Behold the storm-beat wanderer in repose! He lists the sounds at which the Heavens unclose, Gleam, through expanding bars, the angel-wings, And floats the music borne from seraph-strings. Holy the oldest creed which Nature gives, Proclaiming God where'er Creation lives; But _there_ the doubt will come!--the clear design Attests the Maker and suggests the Shrine; But in that visible harmonious plan, What present shows the _future_ world to man? What lore detects, beneath our crumbling clay, A soul exiled, and journeying back to day; What knowledge, in the bones of charnel urns, The etherial spark, the undying thought, discerns? How from the universal war, the prey Of life on life, can love explore the way? Search the material tribes of earth, sea, air, And the fierce SELF that strives and slays is there. What but that SELF to Man doth Nature teach? Where the charm'd link that binds the all to each? Where the sweet Law--(doth Nature boast its birth)-- "Good will to man, and charity to earth?" Not in the world without, but that within, Reveal'd, not instinct--soul from sense can win! And where the Natural halts, where cramp'd, confined, The seen horizon bounds the baffled mind, The Inspired begins--the onward march is given; Bridging all space, nor ending ev'n in Heaven! There, veil'd on earth, we mark divinely clear, Duty and end--the There explains the Here! We see the link that binds the future band, Foeman with foeman gliding hand in hand; And feel that Hate is but an hour's--the son Of earth, to perish when the earth is done-- But Love eternal; and we turn below, To hail the brother where we loathed the foe; There, in the soft and beautiful Belief, Flows the true Lethe for the lips of Grief; There, Penury, Hunger, Misery, cast their eyes, How soon the bright Republic of the Skies! There, Love, heart-broken, sees prepared the bower, And hears the bridal step, and waits the nuptial hour! There, smiles the mother we have wept! there bloom Again the buds asleep within the tomb; There, souls regain what hearts had lost before In that fix'd moment call'd the--Evermore! Refresh'd in that soft baptism, and reborn, The Indian woke, and on the world was morn! All things seem'd new--rose-colour'd in the skies Shone the hoar peaks of the old memories; No more enshrouded with unbroken gloom Calantha's injured name and early tomb-- No more with woe (how ill-suppress'd by pride!) Thought sounds the gulf that parts the promised bride! Faithful no less to Death, and true to Love, This blooms again--that shall rejoin, above! The Stoic courage had the wound conceal'd; The Christian hope the wound's sharp torture heal'd. As rude the waste, but now before him shone } The star;--he rose, and cheerful journey'd on, } Full of the God most with us when alone! } III.