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, With its isles teeming. Cliffs wrapped in snows of years, Autumn's blue heaven: New faces greet thee ! Pilgrims from many a shrine And when such visions come Unto thy olden home, Will they not waken Deep thoughts of Him whose hand 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, 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 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 me! - at times that last dread scene Of Frost and Fire and moaning Sea, 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 |