rill my stricken ear,
I'd pray this hush might be eternal!

RESIGNATION.

Pensylla, look! With tremulous points of fire,
The sun, red-sinking lights yon distant spire
O'er leafy hill and blossoming meadows,
Spreads wide and level his departing beams,
Then sinks to rest, as one sure of sweet dreams,
'Mid pillowing clouds and curtaining shadows.
Night draws her lucid shade o'er sky and earth;
Solemn and bright, Heaven's starry eyes look forth;
The evening hymn of praise and song of mirth
Rise gratefully from man's abode.
O, Night! I love her sombre majesty!
'Tis sweet, her double solitude, to me!
Pensylla, leave me now! Alone I'd be
With Darkness, Silence and my God.

O Thou, whose shadow is but light's excess,
The echo of whose voice but silentness,
Whose light and music, half expended,
Would flood, dissolve the sphery frame; 'twixt whom
And man no endless night can throw its gloom
Till long Eternity is ended--
Which ne'er shall end--to thee, my trust, I turn!
To one, for whom in vain thy lamps now burn,
A hearing deign; nor from thy footstool spurn
The prayer of an imprisoned mind.

Father, thy sun is set; night veils the world,
That orbs more beauteous be to man unfurled,
Then in my Night, let me but find
New realms, where thought and fancy may rejoice;
Let its long silence ne'er displace Thy voice
From whispering hope and peace, 'twere my choice
To be thus smitten deaf and blind!
Fill me with light and music from above,
And so inspire with truth, faith, courage, love,
That Thou and man my work can well approve--
Father, to all I'm then resigned!

Harp of the mournful voice, now fare thee well!
My sad song ended, ended is thy spell.
Perchance thine echoes, memory haunting,
May oft awaken, shadowing forth the swell
Of long sung monody and long tolled knell,
And o'er the dead past, dirges chanting;
But for me, ever hang in Sorrow's hall!
Bid Night and Silence spread oblivion's pall
O'er earthly blooming joys, that seared must fall
And leave the stricken soul to weep:--
Ever, till this devoted head be hoar,
And the swart angel whispering at the door;
When I thy slumbers may disturb once more.
Ere double night bring double sleep,
Till then, I sing in happier, bolder strain:
What's lost to me is G