266 Glimpses of Our Ancestors.
in which extensive reading, good taste, and considerable powers of fancy and invention are displayed, but some poems rising above the average. Such, we think, the reader will admit, was the following one, entitled
. Airy vision!—thou'rt to me
The spirit of tranquillity— Whispering to the sleeping-breast Tales of all it loves the best; Lulling sorrow's pensive note With a soothing antidote; Bringing hither friends we love— Friends that o'er the wide world rove, Like some lovely falling star, Leaving all its mates afar. Oh! I woo thee, gentle dream, As a wanderer woos the beam Of moonlight o'er the troubled stream, When all around his trembling bark Is doubtful, desolate and dark. Would that the spirit could awake, And not thy bright illusion break, But dream through life so sad as this In one fair harmony of bliss! Dear Spirit! in thy wide domain, Misery drops her fetter-chain— Envy's tumult-voice is still— Raging passions cease to thrill— Hope is there with laughing eye, Beaming in her extasy; Every feeling, every sense, Is mingled with benevolence. How should hatred e'er invade The silence of thy spirit-shade ? There, within thy twilight realm, No jarring shouts of strife o'erwhelm; But thought and action blend and shine Like Nature at the day's decline. I know not if thou always art As soothing to the troubled heart! Some say that terror's fitful gleams Hover o'er the land of dreams; That fearful phantoms wildly frown— That sorrow there usurps a crown!— That all the woes of life appear Doubly deep within thy sphere! Dear Spirit!—can it, can it be? Thou never hast seemed thus to me! If ever, in day's beam of gold, Fickle friendship's heart was cold,