Miscellaneous Poems | Page 3

blinks as we go past,
The watch-dog shrinks
and fears to bark;
The watch-tower's bell sounds shrill; and, hark

The free wind blows--we've left the town -
A wild sepulchral ground
I mark,
And on a tombstone place me down.
What monuments of mighty dead!
What tombs of various kinds are
found!
And stones erect their shadows shed
On humble graves,
with wickers bound,
Some risen fresh, above the ground,
Some
level with the native clay:
What sleeping millions wait the sound,

"Arise, ye dead, and come away!"
Alas! they stay not for that call;
Spare me this woe! ye demons, spare!

They come! the shrouded shadows all, -
'Tis more than mortal
brain can bear;
Rustling they rise, they sternly glare
At man upheld
by vital breath;
Who, led by wicked fiends, should dare
To join the
shadowy troops of death!
Yes, I have felt all man can feel,
Till he shall pay his nature's debt;

Ills that no hope has strength to heal,
No mind the comfort to forget:

Whatever cares the heart can fret,
The spirits wear, the temper gall,

Woe, want, dread, anguish, all beset
My sinful soul!--together all!
Those fiends upon a shaking fen
Fix'd me, in dark tempestuous night;

There never trod the foot of men,
There flock'd the fowl in wint'ry
flight;
There danced the moor's deceitful light
Above the pool
where sedges grow;
And when the morning-sun shone bright,
It
shone upon a field of snow.
They hung me on a bow so small,
The rook could build her nest no
higher;
They fix'd me on the trembling ball
That crowns the
steeple's quiv'ring spire;
They set me where the seas retire,
But
drown with their returning tide;
And made me flee the mountain's fire,


When rolling from its burning side.
I've hung upon the ridgy steep
Of cliffs, and held the rambling brier;

I've plunged below the billowy deep,
Where air was sent me to
respire;
I've been where hungry wolves retire;
And (to complete my
woes) I've ran
Where Bedlam's crazy crew conspire
Against the life
of reasoning man.
I've furl'd in storms the flapping sail,
By hanging from the
topmast-head;
I've served the vilest slaves in jail,
And pick'd the
dunghill's spoil for bread;
I've made the badger's hole my bed:
I've
wander'd with a gipsy crew;
I've dreaded all the guilty dread,
And
done what they would fear to do.
On sand, where ebbs and flows the flood,
Midway they placed and
bade me die;
Propp'd on my staff, I stoutly stood
When the swift
waves came rolling by;
And high they rose, and still more high,
Till
my lips drank the bitter brine;
I sobb'd convulsed, then cast mine eye,

And saw the tide's re-flowing sign.
And then, my dreams were such as nought
Could yield but my
unhappy case;
I've been of thousand devils caught,
And thrust into
that horrid place
Where reign dismay, despair, disgrace;
Furies with
iron fangs were there,
To torture that accursed race
Doom'd to
dismay, disgrace, despair.
Harmless I was; yet hunted down
For treasons, to my soul unfit;

I've been pursued through many a town,
For crimes that petty knaves
commit;
I've been adjudged t'have lost my wit,
Because I preached
so loud and well;
And thrown into the dungeon's pit,
For trampling
on the pit of hell.
Such were the evils, man of sin,
That I was fated to sustain;
And
add to all, without--within,

A soul defiled with every stain
That
man's reflecting mind can pain;
That pride, wrong, rage, despair, can

make;
In fact, they'd nearly touch'd my brain,
And reason on her
throne would shake.
But pity will the vilest seek,
If punish'd guilt will not repine, -
I
heard a heavenly teacher speak,
And felt the SUN OF MERCY shine:

I hailed the light! the birth divine!
And then was seal'd among the
few;
Those angry fiends beheld the sign,
And from me in an instant
flew.
Come hear how thus the charmers cry
To wandering sheep, the strays
of sin,
While some the wicket-gate pass by,
And some will knock
and enter in:
Full joyful 'tis a soul to win,
For he that winneth souls
is wise;
Now hark! the holy strains begin,
And thus the sainted
preacher cries: --{1}
"Pilgrim, burthen'd with thy sin,
Come the way to Zion's gate,

There, till Mercy let thee in,
Knock and weep and watch and wait.

Knock!--He knows the sinner's cry!
Weep!--He loves the mourner's
tears:
Watch!--for saving grace is nigh:
Wait,--till heavenly light
appears.
"Hark! it is the Bridegroom's voice:
Welcome, pilgrim, to thy rest;

Now within the gate rejoice,
Safe and seal'd and bought and blest!

Safe--from all the lures of vice,
Seal'd--by signs the chosen know,

Bought--by love and life the price,
Blest--the mighty debt to owe.
"Holy Pilgrim! what for thee
In a world like this remain?
From thy
guarded breast shall flee
Fear and shame, and doubt and pain.

Fear--the hope of Heaven shall fly,
Shame--from glory's view retire,

Doubt--in certain rapture die,
Pain--in endless bliss expire."
But though my day of grace was come,
Yet still my days of grief I
find;
The former clouds' collected gloom
Still sadden the reflecting
mind;

The soul, to evil things consign'd,
Will of their evil some
retain;
The man will seem to earth inclined,
And will not look erect

again.
Thus, though elect, I feel it hard
To lose what I possess'd before,
To
be from all my wealth debarr'd, -
The brave Sir Eustace is no more:

But old I wax, and