The flower-bulb may rest when dull Winter it beareth, But when Spring comes, and bright sunny sheen, When the many-hued flower, and ripe fruit it prepareth, It toils then unceasing, I ween. For no rest Nature knows, Where the heart warm glows, And in mystical current the strong tide flows; In vain would ye break, with a fretful revulsion, In his march old Time, If you will not climb, Will leave you to gather the fruit of your crime; Leave ease to the idols of old Epicurus; Through danger, and doubt, and delay, To the word of the truth with strong faith we will moor us, And work while 'tis called to-day; For God no repose In the wide world knows, G But working and wearing His wise spirit goes, JOHN STUART BLACKIE, 1810 LOOK UP! "Look up!" cried the seaman, with nerves like steel, As skyward his glance he cast, And beheld his own son grow giddy, and reel Look up! and the bold boy lifted his face, Slid down at once from his perilous place, And leapt in his father's arms. Look up! we cry to the sorely oppress'd, You had better look up to the mountain crest, The one offers heights ye may hope to gain, With roughness, and danger, and gloom. Look up ! meek soul, by affliction bent, Nor dally with dull despair, Look up, and with faith, to the firmament, For Heaven and mercy are there. The frail flower droops in the stormy shower, Look up sad man, by adversity brought Play not with the bane of corrosive thought, Renew thy hopes; look the world in the face, For it helps not those who repine; Press on, and its cheer will amend thy pace; Succeed, and its homage is thine. Look up! great crowd, who are foremost set In the changeful battle of life; Some days of calm may reward ye yet For years of allotted strife. Look up, and beyond, there's a guerdon there For the humble and pure of heart, Fruition of joys unalloy'd by care, Of peace that can never depart. Look up, large spirit, by Heaven inspired, Look up, with endeavour and zeal untired, And strive for the loftiest goal; Advance, and encourage the kindred throng, To follow, and hail with triumphant song JOHN CRITCHLEY PRINCE, 1808 TO-DAY AND TO-MORROW. HIGH hopes that burn'd like Stars sublime, But never sit we down and say, There's nothing left but sorrow: We walk the Wilderness To-day, The Promised Land To-morrow. Our birds of song are silent now, There are no flowers blooming! Yet life stirs in the frozen bough, And Freedom's Spring is coming! And Freedom's tide comes up alway, Though we may strand in sorrow: And our good bark, aground To-day, Shall float again To-morrow. Through all the long, dark night of years And Earth is wet with blood and tears; But our meek sufferance endeth! The Few shall not for ever sway, The Many moil in sorrow : The Powers of Hell are strong To-day, Though hearts brood o'er the Past, our eyes For lo! our day bursts up the skies: O Youth! flame-earnest, still aspire, Our yearning opes a portal! The Harvest comes To-morrow. Build up heroic lives, and all Be like a sheathen sabre, Ready to flash out at God's call, O Chivalry of Labour ! |