Earth lies dumb before me, and the shadows
Of midnight cast their dim forms athwart it.
Quiet is brooding o’er a silent world,
And the soft hush of slumber seals each lid.
Night is too fair for sleep: with me thought wakes
And treads in distant paths, where human step
Ne’er left an echo on the vacant air.
The gorgeous canopy of heaven is wrapped
In silvery haze: Gems of uncounted wealth
Bestud the lofty concave; and the bright
Moon seems rolling like a silvery ball
Across the trackless æther, mantling the earth
In glory;—while her mellowed light
Falls on my spirit with a holy calm, like that
Of heaven. Tell us—why are we chained to earth?
’Tis far too gross for the immortal mind,
Which yearns for higher realms, and pants in vain
For the full measure of perfection. Oh!
I have gazed upon night’s starry volume,
Till I have read long lessons of delight,
And drank the raptures of another world.
Thought, living thought, burns to embrace the whole
Of those deep mysteries eternity
Conceals from mortal understanding; and
The mind speaks out, and questions every beam
Which falls from the bright reservoir of heaven—
Interrogates each plant and breathing thing—
Retires within itself, and calls up every
Faculty—sends powerful fancy forth to
Search through untrod regions, but spends its pow’rs
Unsatisfied, till it sinks down at last
Exhausted by its own intensity.
O for a walk among those stars of light,
Where grandeur fills immensity! I long
To fling my soul upon the pinions of
Eternity, and revel in the blaze
Of glory unrevealed—to gaze upon
The light that emanates from God’s vast throne,
And hear the music of the rolling spheres
As they revolve in mystic circles round
The deep centre of unknown attraction.
Spirits of heaven are hov’ring round me,
And breathe sweet songs of rapture in my ear.
The rustle of their wings is like the sigh
Of leaves, when the soft zephyr moves among
Their quiv’ring branches. Their hallowed voices
Wake the eternity within me, and warm
Aspirations rise from my heart’s altar
To the great throne of Uncreated Power,
The wings of seraphim seem wafting me
In thought far through the bright and boundless ether.
O for the freedom of unbodied life!
To rove where thought ne’er ventured—where fancy
Halts, her swift wing wearied in its lofty flight.
I gaze upon the stars, and drink the full
Glory of the midnight heavens—and breathe
The breath of spiritual existence
Till my soul beats, like a captive bird,
Against its prison grates, and longs to soar away, and mix
With immortality.
Are not the stars
Immortal? Do they not live forever
In a joy of light? Have they not looked down
From age to age upon this distant world
And watched its evolutions? Viewed its face
Change beneath the whelming flood—its cities
Sink beneath the earthquake’s shock—its mountains
Belch destruction—its boasted empires fall—
Its armies crushed in battle—its proud kings
Fade from earth—its ancient monumental
Grandeur crumble into dust? Yet they roll on,
Creatures of life, a beaming essence,
A mysterious throng of heavenly
Pageantry. But is there not a region
Far above that envious height; above
The stars; where beings live forever, and
No darkness comes; where light exists for ages,
Unborrowed from the sun; where storms dim not
Its brightness? and where rapture never dies?
Yes, far above the sky-bound ceiling, there
Is light—eternal light—joy unsubdued,
And everlasting life!
Is there such a
Thing as sin? I feel it not. This is a
Holy hour. Nothing exists to me but
Heaven, and heaven’s pure habitants; all worldly
Thoughts are drowned in high communing. Is there
Such a thing as pain? I know it not, who
Oft have known it. Heaven’s high-wrought happiness
Is mine. This is a peaceful hour, and I
Could deem myself already entered on
Immortal ground, did not this clog of clay
Assure me I am yet of earth, and have,
Perchance, long years of pain, and wo, and sin
To witness, and the dark vale of death is
Yet unpassed by me, though ever near. Well,
If it must be so, welcome the hour that
Breaks these mortal shackles, and lets loose my
Spirit on the wings of life, to find its
Native element and long sought home, if
Heaven at last be mine. Congenial spirits
Of unknown existence! would that your forms
Could be perceived by mortal eyes, that I
Might hold sweet converse with you, and forget
That I am mortal.
Oh! there is that
Within, which tells me I was destined for
A higher sphere; that heaven was made for me;
For _all_—if we accept the gift, and mount
Faith’s ladder, as the word of life directs
This life is not our destiny; ’tis but
A prelude to a state eternal, a
Mere beginning of existence, when once
Begun, that ne’er shall cease to be. Life! Life!
What art thou _now_—what art thou doomed to be?
A shade; a substance; dream; reality;
A blessing or a curse; a moment here;
Hereafter an eternity! Dread thought,
Eternity! Eternity! My soul
Is lost in that vast subject, and I shrink
Appalled from the unmeasured time to come.
No more I ask to know its hidden space;
’Twill soon unfold to me, and I shall dwell
Forever in its changeless realm; no more
To feel emotions known on earth, or think
As now I think, or live as now I live;
’Till then, “the mysteries of fate are hid,”
And all lie buried in a world to come.
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A LADY M. D. OCCULIST AND AURIST RESTORES to Sight from Blindness,
Amaurosis, Granulated Eye Lids and Weak and Sore Eyes of any standing;
opening Tear Glands, removing Cataracts, Scums, Films, Ulcers, Tumors,
Cancer &c., without operation or pain. Persons wearing spectacles
permaturely, enabled to do without them by recovering the natural tone
of the eye. Those of the aged strengthened and restored to the natural
form or convexity. Worst of cases treated successfully, as seen at the
Infirmary, from 12 M to 2 P. M., on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays.