II.

This was written at St. Agata, on the way to Naples, in the same manner, December 31, 1829.

HARK to the summons of departing Time!
Its echoes die upon the fading year;
Build up its requiem in some solemn rhyme,
And bring the final end of all things near.
The tide of being, rushing from afar,

Bears on the fortunes of the deathless soul;
Bright o'er its waters beams a holy star,

And heaven's blest island crowns the glorious whole. Review the past of this all-varying scene;

Recount with gratitude its every joy;

How few the days unclouded and serene!

How mixed the happiest moments with alloy ! Yet from this mingled mass the soul may reap The harvest gathered after death's long sleep.

A SUNDAY MORNING ECLOGUE.

WRITTEN

IMMEDIATELY AFTER THE DEATH OF REV. GEORGE WHITNEY, OF JAMAICA PLAIN, ROXBURY, AND REV. DR. HARRIS, OF DORCHESTER.

SCENE. A rustic Cottage on a Hill-side; a Lake beneath; a Village in the distance beyond. — A Child is sitting on the bank near the cottage door, at which his Father appears.

CHILD.

Is it not time, dear father, for the bell?
I'm weary listening for it. Here I've sat
Since breakfast, waiting, waiting; but I hear
No sound. I'm tired of waiting!

FATHER.

How the child

Delights to catch the music of that bell!
And so do I, in truth. I love its peal,
As it comes swelling o'er the placid lake,
And stirs the silence of our far hill-side.
The undulating tones float calmly on,

As if from heaven's broad depths they wafted down
Sweet messages of peace, such as befit

A Sunday's sacred calm.

Come hither, boy;

Sit on the door-stone by your father's side,
And I will listen with you for the bell.

How beautiful it is!

CHILD.

FATHER.

What's beautiful?

Why, every thing;

CHILD.

the trees, and flowers, and clouds,

And pond, and houses; all are beautiful.

What makes them always look most beautiful

On Sunday morning?

FATHER.

Do they so?

CHILD.

Why, yes;

And mother says so too; and then she asks,

If heaven will be more fair than this bright earth.

FATHER.

Well, child, and will it?

CHILD.

O, I asked her that;

She answered, "Surely yes;" and said the hymn,

"If God hath made this world so fair,

Where sin and death abound,

How beautiful, beyond compare,

Must Paradise be found!"

But why on Sunday should it seem most fair?

FATHER.

Because the mind is then in tune; its thoughts
Of holy truth have roused it to perceive
The harmony of all with things divine:

The heart, attuned to heavenly melody,

Beats in accord with nature's melodies,

Which always are of Heaven. You understand?

CHILD.

O, yes; for mother always says, you know,
If I am sweet and pleasant, every thing
Will pleasant be to me and sweet; and so
All things will be most heavenly to the eye
Beneath a Sabbath sun, because ourselves
Are then most heavenly.

But children fret, and then all joys are soured;
And men disturb their minds with foolish cares,
Till nature's peace and God's great presence fade;
Till noxious mists have darkened all their world,
And rarely yield a moment's glimpse of heaven.
Bless me, this day, my God, with one such glimpse!
Lift off the darkness from my soul! Remove
The dimness of my eye, that I may see,

The dulness of my ear, that I may hear,

The melodies and beauties of thy realms.

CHILD.

Hark! hark! Methought I heard it. - Have they bells In heaven, father?

FATHER.

They have music, dear,

And worship- love and angels. - Hark! -"Tis strange!
'Tis very strange! The shadows have grown short,
The sun rides high, and yet no call to church!
The air is still we could not fail to hear.

But what should cause that iron tongue to lie
Speechless to-day, which for two hundred years
Ne'er failed before to ring its summons forth,
Proclaiming, to the forests and the hills,

That toil had pause, and earth was bowed in praise?
What can it mean?

CHILD.

List, father! Up the steep,

Straight from the village, comes the sound of wheels.

FATHER.

And now I see the wagon, as it winds
Round yonder turn. I will approach and know
The reason of this mystery. Neighbor, hail!
A Sabbath's salutation to you, friend!

But why this more than Sabbath's silence? Why
No customary bell?

NEIGHBOR.

Have you not heard?