And where "the just made perfect" are, Where sorrows end, where joys endure, And bright content has banish'd care.

Hail ! blissful regions ! plains of peace !
Untrod by crime, unstained by wars,
Where noise and strife and tumult cease,

The world's wild din and brethren's jars.

Nor death is there, nor parting known,
But more than all, and all to ensure,
There, smiling on th'eternal throne,

The God of heav'n makes heav'n secure.

And there the Lamb whose blood below

A crimson, cleansing fountain ran,
Conducts to streams that ever flow,
And blush not, as they flow, for man!

My spirit longs, my heart aspires

To gain that pure, that blest abode ; When shall I come, my soul inquires, And stand and sing before my God?

INTRODUCTION TO AN ALBUM.

1827.

The first!—ah! who the thoughts shall say, The thousand thoughts that roll

And 'whelm beneath their torrent sway The bold adventurer's soul,

Who first descries some unknown land, And treads, the first, its virgin strand ?

Is such an one's the wide, warm breast
Where generous passions glow,
The lofty mind where truth may rest
As sun on mountain snow?
Methinks of such a soul I hear,

The utterance breathed, and trace it here.

Peace to thy borders! stranger land!
And blessings on thee pour !
Nor let the first who marks thy strand
Pollute the stainless shore!

I come the first, and list the call,-
I claim thee for the Lord of all!

No tyrant's stern decree I bring,
No hostile banner wave,
But here the friendly gauntlet fling
To all the nobly brave;

And bid them dare with me essay
And make this land to heaven a way.

Far hence the host of worthless ones,
The vain delusive crowd!

Poor wanton pleasure's thoughtless sons,
The flatterer and the proud :

But, holiness around thee thrown,
Approach the wise, the good alone!

Of piety the fair retreat,

Of truth the loved resort,

May wisdom here assume her seat
And all that come be taught!
Thy ways, the ways of pleasantness,
Thy paths, the paths of peace!

On all Thy future peopled plains
May purest incense burn!

And mingling, thence, with sweetest strains,
Invoke a blest return!

Nor with the hallowed music float

The discord of a doubtful note. So shalt Thou, holy, happy, free, A region bless'd and blessing be!

ENIGMAS.

1828.

I..

Seen never yet by mortal eyes,
Though beaming in them oft,
Nor felt, yet like-form, texture, size,
Great, narrow, firm, or soft.

Unhurt by wear, unchanged by years,

Yet changed it needs must be,

And tho' it hath, nor eyes, nor ears,

It can both hear and see.

It never spoke, it never smiled,
It never shed a tear,

Yet grief hath torn and joy beguiled,
And speech reveals it near.

Of death in peril, yet to die

Can never be its lot;

Still die it may, yet live to sigh,

Because it liveth not.

II.

Now invested with grandeurs resplendently bright,
Then all hostile to beauty, sworn foe to the light;
Now of delicate tint and of elegant form,

Then as rough as the rock, and as black as the storm;
Gently lulled, like a bake on its mother's soft breast,
Now as lovely and peaceful and quiet I rest,
Then I fly with the wings of the wind, and, beneath,
Widely scatter destruction and terrors and death.
There is one on whose bosom I often repose,
And whenever she mourns I give vent to her woes.
There is one in whose glances I kindle and burn,
Yet not seldom he leaves me, tho' pledged to return;
But, at parting, his gaze is so tender and deep,
I am mantled in blushes and silently weep.

If I smile, or I blush, 'tis delight to the soul,
When I frown, nature trembles and owns my control.
When the victim of terror is wild with his fears,

F

Then I scowl on his griefs while I shed o'er him tears,
Yet when langour and faintness the dying oppress,
I administer succour and banish distress.

I arise from the earth, but am nurtured near heaven,
And am harmless while perfect, but dreadful when riven;
Both an omen of ill and a portent of good,

And an emblem of anything ill understood;
Of materials slighter than feathers, or sand,
Yet a vehicle form the most splendidly grand :
My true province is darkness, my nature to hide,
Yet my fame is on record of old as a guide.

Methought a cloud, frowned darkly o'er my head,
And ever as I raised a fearful eye,

Its bulk seemed larger and its form more dread,

While, slowly, like some Monarch from on high,
In sable majesty, its pomp drew nigh.