Read Ebook: Poems on Serious and Sacred Subjects Printed only as Private Tokens of Regard for the Particular Friends of the Author by Hayley William

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POEMS ON SERIOUS AND SACRED SUBJECTS,

PRINTED ONLY AS PRIVATE TOKENS OF REGARD,

....nec pia cessant In tumulo officia.

MILTONI MANSUS.

A Christian's kindness ends not in the tomb.

Chichester:

PRINTED AT THE PRIVATE PRESS OF W. MASON.

ON THE FEAR OF DEATH:

AN EPISTLE TO A LADY.

THE FEAR OF DEATH.

FELPHAM:

AN EPISTLE TO HENRIETTA OF LAVANT.

FELPHAM.

Dear Henrietta, to whom justice pays Her cordial tribute in these local lays; 'Tis the prime privilege of souls like thine, To feast on heavenly thoughts in life's decline. Faith to thy veteran bard exults to bring Her living water from the Christian spring; Hence the sweet vision, soft as evening's ray, Shedding enchantment o'er the close of day: Hence the persuasion, which all time endears, That our true friendship, firm thro' changeful years, In scenes exempt from clouds of pain and strife, Has sure expectancy of endless life.

Epistle

TO THE BISHOP OF LANDAFF.

Christmas Day, 1811.

Epistle.

Thy fav'rite Prelate haste, my verse! to greet Adorning nature in his sylvan seat! His southern hermit, his unchanging friend, Sends him such tribute, as the heart may send, Love, that, in honouring a peaceful sage, Invokes all blessings on his hallowed age. Though many a mountain rears its head between His wood-crown'd mansion, and my cell marine, In mental vision I his form survey Thro' various periods of our vital day; Now as his manly figure struck my sight, When first I heard his voice, with new delight, Imparting science, or celestial truth, With Latin eloquence, to English youth; And now, as when, o'erpowering sceptic strife In his mild vigor of maturer life: His liberal spirit gain'd the world's applause, The mitred champion of the Christian cause! Oh ever friendly to a guileless bard, Whose pure ambition sought thy kind regard; How fervently I wish, that verse of mine, Nor vain, nor languid, tho' in life's decline, Might thro' thy heart the cheering glow diffuse, That friendship welcomes from no venal muse, When worth time-honour'd, still as frank as youth, Owns that her words of praise are words of truth! Benign Landaff! to liberal arts a friend! May all those arts thy well-earned fame attend! Grateful for all thy kindness to his sire, My filial sculptor, with Promethean fire, While yet a boy, confess'd a proud design, To make thy spirit in his marble shine; And, with expression eloquently just, Charm future Christians by thy breathing bust, That, hope, with many a plan devoutly bold, The great disposer of our days controll'd; Saw tortured youth angelically calm, And call'd the martyr to his heav'nly palm. If love, inherent in a parent's heart, Sighs for that lost Marcellus of his art, Still can I joy, that with rare length of days, Heaven yet allows my hallow'd friend to raise, A portrait of himself:--thou much-lov'd sage! Far yet extend that biographic page, Where conscious of existence well employ'd, And mental treasures gratefully enjoy'd, Thy virtuous age will morally display The various labours of thy useful day: And in thy own rich eloquence enshrin'd, Leave thy instructive life, a lesson for mankind!

Epistle

TO JOHN SARGENT, ESQ.

OCTOBER, 1814.

Epistle.

Friend of my vernal and autumnal day, In life's gay bloom, and in its slow decay: Sargent! who leav'st thy hermit's studious cell, To act thy busier part, and act it well, In courts of rural justice to preside, In temperate dignity unstain'd with pride. Oft let us meet, that friendship's honour'd chain, In its extension may new lustre gain; So let us, cheer'd by memory's social blaze, Live o'er again our long-departed days. I thank kind Heaven, that made the pleasure mine Beneath my roof to see thy virtues shine; When Providence thy fondest wishes crown'd, Casting thy lot on fair, and southern ground: When the gay songs of Eartham's friendly grove Proclaim'd the triumph of thy prosperous love-- Tis sweet to plant a friend in genial land, And see his branches round the world expand! I share thy joy, the heart's parental feast To learn thy filial pilgrim in the East, Thy youthful Harry, is among the prime, Whom learning honours in her Indian clime: Nor less the joy to hear thy eldest-born, Whom gifts of sacred eloquence adorn, Has, with Cicestria's liberal applause, Those gifts exerted in the noblest cause: Pleas'd to promote the most sublime emprise That Christian charity could e'er devise; To blend her votaries of every name In one harmonious universal aim; To make the word of God, that truest wealth, The heart's nutrition, and the spirit's health As common as the food, by heavenly power Pour'd from the skies, a life-preserving shower, On deserts pour'd, in hopeless hunger's track, When He, who gather'd little, felt no lack. My friend of many years! we both have found Darkness and sunshine on the chequer'd ground, In different paths appointed to our feet: You in the world--your host in his retreat! Yet blest be Heaven, that grants us to behold Wonders of Providence like those of old, When mortals in the waste, they murmuring trod, Saw, and rever'd the guidance of their God, We have beheld, and with one heart and voice Hail'd the bright scene, that bids the globe rejoice; Nature releas'd from devastation's flood, And peace emerging from a sea of blood. Wonders yet happier to devotion's eyes In blissful vision will now widely rise, From pure diffusive zeal in Britain sprung, Bidding the Gospel speak in every tongue; Till its effect earth's utmost bounds attest, Jesus enthron'd in every human breast, And all his subjects, as his mercy will'd, Feeling within themselves his joy fulfill'd. Yes, my time-honoured friend, with one accord We bless the promised advent of our Lord, In heavenly prospect, tho' we still sustain Our unexhausted share of earthly pain. But whatsoever ills yet undisplay'd May o'er our eve of life throw deeper shade, We have the constant comfort to possess An antidote against the mind's distress;

That settled trust in Providence divine. Which lets the Christian at no lot repine: But, when most tried, his faith's prime power employ, And make affliction minister to joy. We both have past thro' many a troubled day, And felt adversity's heart-searching sway: But when most wounded, both have kiss'd the rod, And blest the pangs assign'd us by our God; To wean us from a world, which, Nature sees, None estimate aright, or quit with ease, But souls Heaven-taught, that, free from doubt's alarm, Hail death their herald to the Saviour's arms. We both, my friend, in mind sedate and firm Enter'd with thankfulness life's latest term. And I might claim First to attain the quiet of the tomb; There show me still the friendship of our youth, And still speak of me with indulgent truth. May'st thou, less worn by griefs of many a year, Still rich in filial gems, that earth endear! Thy public duties long with grace discharge, Esteem'd and honour'd by the world at large. Thy elder, idler friend that world may spare, And yet allow his name a station there; For he long literary zeal has shown, To honour merit, that surpassed his own: And hop'd to live beyond his mortal days, In England's memory, and friendship's praise. High hopes! o'er which his holier thoughts aspire, And make the peace of God his paramount desire.

Epistle.

TO MRS. HANNAH MORE

JUNE 1811.

Epistle

Monitory Verses

Dear nymph of a feeling, and delicate mind! Whose eye the rash tears of timidity blind, When fancy alarm'd takes a heart-chilling hue, And the prospect of life is all dark in thy view, Let me, as thy monitor, mild and sincere, To thy spirit the gift of existence endear! And shew thee, if darkened by fear or chagrin, The sunshine of friendship can gild every scene! Those, who true to the Ruler of every hour, Rely on his mercy, and trust in his power;

Whatso'er is their lot, may, by viewing it right, Convert all its darkness to visions of light When mortals of hope the fair presage assume, Even death's sable pall is no object of gloom: They smile on the path which their best friends have trod, And rejoice, when they feel, they are summon'd to God. Be it long, my young friend, ere such joy can be thine, First embrace all the gifts, faith exults to resign. The best prelude to death is, without mental strife. To be grateful for all the pure pleasures of life: And many pure pleasures to mortals are given, Sick or well, rich or poor, by the bounty of heaven, If we all draw them forth From that mine of delight, an affectionate heart!

Epistle

TO A FRIEND, ON THE DIVINITY OF OUR SAVIOUR.

Epistle.

A COLLECTION OF HYMNS

Of all the Christian virtues chief With modest charms, and mild relief, Most apt to heal the wounds of pride, and spleen, To thee, humility; I bend; O let me feel, thou art my friend! Rule thou my bosom, as its gentle queen!

'Tis thine benignly to repress All proud conceit, all vain excess; To give the chasten'd mind its proper tone; To make it keep in sight The worth of others with delight, And never look too fondly on its own.

Teach me, with active zeal, to wake At nature's sigh, for pity's sake, When pride in dreams of apathy will nod! Still guided by thy Christian breath, Keep me, thro' scenes of life, and death, To mortals kind, and dutiful to God.

Tenderest Herald of the sky, Nature's safeguard from perdition, Friend of sweet, tho' tearful eye, Call'd by angels meek Contrition--

Bid me with a due concern Sigh for recollected error, And to purer conduct turn, Full of hope, and free from terror!

All, who have thy succour tried. Near to Heaven's expanding portal, Blessing Thee, their chosen guide, Joy, in ceasing to be mortal.

Hand-maid of the Saviour's throne, Sent by Him to check depression, Make my chasten'd soul thy own, Guarding it from all transgression.

Saviour! pure source of life and zeal intense, Whose words were peace, whose deeds benificence, Around thy servant ever may I see The sunshine of the soul deriv'd from Thee.

So may we, comforted by words from Heaven, That clearly prove the penitent forgiven, With trust beyond the confidence of youth, Rest on our guardian God--the God of Truth!

TWO HYMNS

Written for the Asylum of Female Orphans.

Parent to those, whose infant days No human parent know; To thee, O Charity! the praise Of filial love shall flow.

Base want, and vice, a foe to all! Round us their snares had thrown. Had not thy arm, at pity's call, Embrac'd us for thine own.

O blest the land! where all to Thee A tender homage pay! Where indigence and wealth agree To venerate thy sway!

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