TO A FRIEND, ON HER RETURN FROM EUROPE. How smiled the land of France Old walls of chateaux grey, Now midst the brilliant train Of the wild Alpine range, Waking with change on change Vales, soft Elysian, Like those in the vision Of Mirza, when, dreaming, He saw the long hollow dell, Into an ocean swell With its isles teeming. Cliffs wrapped in snows of years, Autumn's blue heaven: Loose rock and frozen slide, Led thee o'er sea and land Whence thou wast taken ? While, at the sunset time, Prompter of silent prayer, In the mind's chamber, And, through each coming day Him, who, as staff and stay, Watched o'er thy wandering way, Freshly remember. So, when the call shall be As to all given, Still may that picture live, And to thy spirit give Gladness in Heaven! THE ANGEL OF PATIENCE. A FREE PARAPHRASE OF THE GERMAN. To weary hearts, to mourning homes, There's quiet in that Angel's glance, Nor wounds with words the mourner's ear; Angel of Patience! sent to calm Our feverish brows with cooling palm; Oh! thou who mournest on thy way, FOLLEN. ON READING HIS ESSAY ON THE "FUTURE STATE." FRIEND of my soul!-as with moist eye I look up from this page of thine, Is it a dream that thou art nigh, That presence seems before me now, The calm brow through the parted hair, Ah meat times that last dread scene The failing eyes of Faith and thee. Yet, lingering o'er thy charmed page, Where through the twilight air of earth, Alike enthusiast and sage, Prophet and bard, thou gazest forth; Lifting the Future's solemn veil; The reaching of a mortal hand To put aside the cold and pale |