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[Page 95 ]


Brontë, Patrick, 1777-1861.:

THE CHRISTIAN'S FAREWELL.

[from Brontëana. The Rev. Patrick Brontë, A.B., His Collected Works and Life. The Works; And The Brontës of Ireland. Edited, &c., By J. Horsfall Turner (1898)]

1 With whelming force, the fierce disease,
2 The racking pain, and burning fever, dry,
3 My wasting body seize;
4 Whilst death stands threatening by,
5 And steady aims his fatal dart,
6 To pierce my panting, languid heart.
7 My eyes grow fixed, and dim,
8 My pulse's palpitations faintly play,
9 The ambient air, ten thousand angels skim,
10 And soft, I hear, the joyous summons, "COME AWAY!"
11 Then haste, my wife, and children dear,
12 And lend a kind, attentive ear,
13 I'm going hence, with blessed saints to dwell,
14 And now receive, my long, my last farewell.
15 Thou dearest partner of my life,
16 My best beloved, and ever tender wife,
17 By mutual kindness, twined around my heart,
18 Weep not for me, nor mourn because we part.
19 Thy pitying God, in boundless love,
20 Will send his holy Spirit from above,
21 And every aid and comfort lend,
22 And prove a kinder husband---and a firmer friend.---
23 My tender children dear,
24 Suppress the rising sigh, wipe off the falling tear,
25 Be to your loving mother kind,
26 And always keep in mind,
27 The godly precepts I have often taught,
28 Shun each temptation strong,
29 That promises, but yields no real good,
30 And sinks, relentless, in the fiery flood,
31 The yielding, giddy throng.
32 Sin not, by thought, or act, or dark connivance, mean,
33 Survey this empty world, as a lurking foe;
34 How bright soever, shines the tempting scene;
35 And, whilst you o'er its dangerous quicksands ride,
36 Where least does heave its swelling tide,
 
[Page 96 ]
 
37 Suspect a faithless rock, below,
38 Let Jesus be your pole-star, bright,
39 Who shines propitious, in the darkest night,
40 So shall you safely land, on Canaan's shore,
41 Where we shall meet, to part no more.
42 My eyes grow fixed and dim,
43 My pulse's palpitations faintly play,
44 The ambient air, ten thousand angels skim,
45 And soft, I hear, the joyous summons, "COME AWAY!"
46 The opening heavens, around me shine!---
47 I see the looks of Jesus, all benign!---
48 I hear celestial music, where the seraphs dwell;---
49 Loud, loud, my soul, triumphant sing!---
50 The grave and hell, have vanquished fled!---
51 And gently smiling o'er my bed,
52 Pale death has lost his sting!---
53 I go---I go---my wife---my children---all farewell!---
 
 
 
Brontë, Patrick, 1777-1861.:
 
THE HARPER OF ERIN.
 
[from Brontëana. The Rev. Patrick Brontë, A.B., His Collected Works and Life. The Works; And The Brontës of Ireland. Edited, &c., By J. Horsfall Turner (1898)]
 
1 An ancient harper, skilled in rustic lore;
2 When summer hailed the mild departing spring;
3 High on a rock, on sweet Killarney's shore,†
4 With flying fingers, touched the tuneful string.
5 A wildly sentimental grace,
6 Each feature marked, of his expressive face;
7 And whilst his fingers swept the mellow chords along,
8 In sweet accord, with his seraphic lyre,
9 His soul spoke through his eyes, its wild poetic fire;
10 And thus he raised his song.
11 I shall not sing of Erin, beauteous isle,
12 Nor of her courteous sons, for valour famed,
13 Nor of Killarney, queen of lakes,---
14 Adorned with nature's sweetest smile,
 
[Page 97 ]
 
15 And every grace that can be named,---
16 To view whose charms,
17 Insensibility herself awakes,
18 Whilst soft sensation, her dull bosom warms.
19 I would, with soaring mind, to higher notes aspire;
20 Beyond the pole,
21 My glowing soul,
22 Would catch a spark, of pure seraphic fire,
23 Where flows the Fount of life, through the divine abode,---
24 I'd sing the praise of my Redeeming God.
25 O, for a seraph's tongue!
26 And harp immortal strung,
27 And sweetly tuned, by Gabriel's hand,
28 For highest themes divine!
29 O, for a choral seraph-band,
30 To join their aid to mine!
31 But, even then, our notes would feeble prove;
32 And in their greatest flight,
33 Could never reach the height
34 Of his due praise;
35 The Ancient of eternal days,
36 And God of love.
37 He died! he died! the King of glory died!
38 To rescue from his heavenly Father's ire,
39 A guilty world, just sinking in eternal fire.
40 I see! I see the fatal wood,
41 Stained with his pure atoning blood!
42 Whilst looks benign,
43 Beam from his face divine,
44 On the relentless band, by whom that face was marred,
45 Repent ye murderous crew,
46 There's mercy e'en for you,
47 His boundless love, has not debarred
48 Your guilty souls, from washing in the blood that's shed
49 By your relentless hands.---
50 But hark! his dying cry
51 Has rent the saddened sky,
52 And his unspotted soul is fled,
53 Midst bright attendant seraph bands.---
 
[Page 98 ]
 
54 The rocks are rent, the dead arise,
55 With heavings strange, the solid earth is torn:
56 The conscious sun withdraws his light,
57 As if unable to support the sight;
58 And ten-fold night invades the saddened skies:
59 E'en things inanimate, their great Creator mourn;
60 Unfeeling man, alone, for whom he bled,
61 Nor drops one pitying tear, nor mourns his Saviour dead!
62 Assume, my harp, your softest, and most solemn tone;
63 Let every mellow chord, in plaintive cadence moan:
64 And whilst the hollow sound,
65 Floats on the sighing breeze, around,
66 Let echo, weeping in her gloomy cave,
67 Repeat in soothing strain,
68 (Whilst tears run down my aged cheeks like rain,)
69 The King of glory bowed his sacred head,
70 Gave up the ghost, and now is numbered with the dead,
71 In the cold grave.
72 But hark! a shout of triumph, rent the skies!
73 And all the host of heaven, loud anthems sing,
74 To their victorious King,
75 As through their shining ranks he flies.---
76 Burst from the vanquished grave, in heaven he reigns,
77 Fast binding death, and hell, in captive chains.
78 Again, again he comes! I see him in the air;
79 The loudest notes that heavenly breath can blow,
80 The coming God declare:
81 Before his presence, rocks and mountains flow,
82 In fiery torrents, o'er the burning ground;
83 The shrivelling heavens, have passed away with dreadful sound:
84 And loud angelic heralds say,
85 "Come to judgment! come away!"
86 Throughout the boundless whole, has fled,
87 The voice sonorous, and has waked the dead!
88 To the eternal throne,
89 Where Jesus, judging, sits alone;
90 The writhing dragon, of the gloomy deep,
91 With all his hellish crew, repair,
92 And trembling, wail, and weep,
 
[Page 99 ]
 
93 And gnash their teeth, in black despair.---
94 The impetus resistless, hurries all along;
95 The good, the bad, the old, the young,
96 The quick, and dead,
97 Are forth to judgment led,
98 To hear their sentence passed,
99 That shall for ever last.---
100 See! opening hell, receives the wicked throng,---
101 The righteous travel with their God,
102 In shining ranks, along the heavenly road,
103 To dwell, the seraphs bright among.
104 The harp resumed a livelier tone,
105 Its hollow murmurs, ceased to moan;
106 His hand too nimble for the view,
107 Still quick, and quicker, flew,
108 Like lightning o'er the sounding strings;
109 On to the blue summit of his speaking eyes,
110 His soul enraptured, seemed with out-stretched wings,
111 To aim its flight, beyond the glowing skies.---
112 But now the sun had kissed the western main,
113 And hummed the beetle o'er the dusky plain,
114 Killarney, matchless lake, could scarce be seen;
115 A misty veil o'erspread the lovely scene.---
116 The woods and mountains, could be viewed no more,
117 And jutting rocks, that hem its flowing shore.---
118 The sweet musician, homeward took his way,
119 Resolved to tune his harp, another day.
 
 
THE COTTAGE IN THE WOOD, OR THE

Art of Becoming Rich and Happy.
[Page ] [Page 121 ]

Brontë, Patrick, 1777-1861.:

The Pious Cottager's Sabbath. [from Brontëana. The Rev. Patrick Brontë, A.B., His Collected Works and Life. The Works; And The Brontës of Ireland. Edited, &c., By J. Horsfall Turner (1898)]

1 DEEP in yon wood, beneath, a spreading tree,
2 A humble mansion, peeping through the leaves,
3 Sends up a column of blue curling smoke
4 To hail the rising sun; whose golden beams,
5 In rich variety of hues, divine,
6 The tranquil east adorn.---Sleep, short and sweet,
7 The sure reward of toilsome days has fled,
8 And left the brisk inhabitants refresh'd,
9 Attun'd, and in full tone sublime, for the
10 High duties of a Sabbath-morn. Alert,
11 And ever watchful to redeem the time,
12 With quick dispatch, their breakfast they prepare.
13 The chrystal spring, and grit of wholesome oats,
14 With milk from udder of the playful goat,
15 That browses by the hedge, affords a meal,
16 Not such as pamper'd appetites would please,
17 But such as suits the unperverted taste;
18 Gives to the cheeks the opening rose of health,
19 And strength and vigour to the gleeful nerves.
20 The scanty wants of nature all supplied,
21 With nimble fingers they put quickly on
22 Their Sunday clothes, well sav'd and seldom worn,
23 But when their duty calls them to appear,
24 In neat, becoming, but not gay attire,
25 Before their God, the Giver of all good.
26 Now they assemble round the throne of grace,
27 On bended knee: with contrite hearts and pure,
28 And hands unstain'd by crime, they offer up
29 The voice of prayer, to kind approving heaven.
30 They plead that he who made the heart, would far
31 Remove each wand'ring thought, and vain desire,
32 And warm their bosoms with celestial zeal,
33 That so they may, as God commands they should,
34 The Sabbath dedicate to deeds divine.
35 This work of duty done, they straight repair
36 To acts of public worship, by the bells
 
[Page 122 ]
 
37 Invited, that with heavenly music swell
38 Upon the fresh'ning breeze---And as the way
39 Is long, they carry plain and ready fare;
40 Lest by returning home to better food,
41 Their souls should lose the richer banquet of
42 The afternoon. Thrice happy day of rest!
43 How swift it passes o'er their heads! And as
44 The smiling moments fly, they scatter from
45 Their fragrant wings, ten thousand sweets exhal'd
46 From the pure Fountain of Eternal life.
47 In prayer and praise, and exposition true,
48 The faithful legate of the skies, fulfils
49 His sacred office. From his lips, touch'd with
50 A living coal blown to the clearest flame
51 By breath divine, there flows a tepid stream
52 Of eloquence, that rushing o'er the soul,
53 Fills it with ecstasies of pure delight.
54 The holy, just, and strict condemning law,
55 In Sinai's thunder cloth'd, he loud proclaims;
56 The fatal sin original, is then
57 Expos'd to the red bolts of angry heaven,---
58 Whilst o'er the guilty conscience, flashing fierce,
59 Conviction shakes the sinking frame: the still
60 Small voice of the mild gospel, soothing says,
61 'Behold the Lamb of God! the bleeding Lamb,
62 Who by an offering of himself, removes
63 The curse, and cancels all the guilt of a
64 Lost world!---See, whilst he bleeds, with looks benign,
65 In the sweet voice of mercy, he invites!---
66 Come all ye weary laden souls and cast
67 Your weight of sins on me: yea, come and live.'---
68 Hope brightens at the cheering thought: despair
69 Retires: the tear of grief is wip'd away:
70 The world recedes: and Faith, on wings of fire,
71 Ascends triumphant to the realms of bliss.
72 Our Pious Cottagers, from scenes like these,
73 Return, with hearts and souls prepar'd to taste
74 Of purest joys; and in their humble shed,
75 To close the day with holy worship meet.
76 No worldly cares obtrude; no busy scenes,
77 Their minds divert; theirs is the calm retreat,
 
[Page 123 ]
 
78 The genial soil for deeds of heavenly growth,
79 Where no rude winds disturb the rising plants,
80 Nor rushing torrents whelm their broken stems,
81 But warm prolific breezes softly breathe;
82 And meditation like the dew from heaven,
83 A rich variety diffuses wide,
84 Of odorous, flow'ry, green, and fruitful gold.
85 This is the golden harvest of the word,
86 Where they who sow in sorrow, reap in joy:
87 And man forgets the evils of this life,
88 In sweetest antepast of bliss above.
89 Now, wrapt in holy fire, they spend the time,
90 In close perusal of the Sacred Book;
91 Or, all their conversation rais'd to heaven,
92 They dwell on Christ's Eternal Love, and see,
93 Through Faith, the brightness of his face, and feel
94 The breathings of his Spirit whisp'ring peace.
95 When night around her sable curtain draws,
96 And wearied nature claims her wonted boon---
97 They take their frugal meal, and then in sweet
98 Accord, with tuneful tongues, they joyful sing
99 His praise, who on his bright eternal throne,
100 Sways the vast sceptre of the boundless whole.
101 With holy boldness, kneeling down, they call
102 Him Father; all their wants make known, and crave
103 A full supply.---He hears his children's voice,
104 Well pleas'd; and gives them more than they can ask.---
105 Secure beneath the shadow of his wings,
106 They go to rest; sweet sleep their eyelids close,
107 And fits them for the duties of the morn.
108 How rich, how fair, are heavenly Wisdom's ways!
109 How peaceful all her paths! the narrow road
110 Of bliss, how dazzling bright?---None walk therein,
111 But those who follow Christ, and bear his cross,
112 With all the shame annex'd---and as they go,
113 Ne'er dare to turn aside, nor backward cast
114 A wishful look, but hasten on with firm
115 Resolve, and steady peace, by faith upheld,
116 The prize immortal, keeping still in view.
 
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© Митрофанова Екатерина Борисовна, 2009 |