Daughter of Heaven! if here, e’en _here_, The wing of towering thought was thine; If, on this dim and mundane sphere, Fair truth illumed thy bright career, With morning-star divine; How must thy bless’d ethereal soul _Now_ kindle in her noontide ray, And hail, unfetter’d by control, The Fount of Day! E’en _now_, perhaps, thy seraph eyes, Undimm’d by doubt, nor veil’d by fear, Behold a chain of wonders rise-- Gaze on the noon-beam of the skies, Transcendant, pure, and clear! E’en _now_, the fair, the good, the true, From mortal sight conceal’d, Bless in one blaze thy raptured view, In light reveal’d! If _here_ the lore of distant time, And learning’s flowers, were all thine own; How must thy mind ascend sublime, Matured in heaven’s empyreal clime, To light’s unclouded throne! Perhaps e’en _now_ thy kindling glance Each orb of living fire explores, Darts o’er creation’s wide expanse, Admires--adores! Oh! if that lightning-eye surveys This dark and sublunary plain; How must the wreath of human praise Fade, wither, vanish, in thy gaze, So dim, so pale, so vain! How, like a faint and shadowy dream, Must quiver learning’s brightest ray; While on thine eyes, with lucid stream, The sun of glory pours his beam, Perfection’s day! [The reader may contrast these early lines of Mrs Hemans with the maturer ones on the same subject by Professor Wilson.--_Poems_, vol. ii. p. 140-9.] THE RUIN AND ITS FLOWERS. Sweets of the wild! that breathe and bloom On this lone tower, this ivied wall, Lend to the gale a rich perfume, And grace the ruin in its fall. Though doom’d, remote from careless eye, To smile, to flourish, and to die In solitude sublime, Oh! ever may the spring renew, Your balmy scent and glowing hue, To deck the robe of time! Breathe, fragrance! breathe! enrich the air, Though wasted on its wing unknown! Blow, flowerets! blow! though vainly fair, Neglected and alone! These flowers that long withstood the blast, These mossy towers, are mouldering fast, While Flora’s children stay-- To mantle o’er the lonely pile, To gild Destruction with a smile, And beautify Decay! Sweets of the wild! uncultured blowing, Neglected in luxuriance glowing; From the dark ruins frowning near, Your charms in brighter tints appear, And richer blush assume; You smile with softer beauty crown’d, Whilst all is desolate around, Like sunshine on a tomb! Thou hoary pile, majestic still, Memento of departed fame! While roving o’er the moss-clad hill, I ponder on thine ancient name!