Phenix gazette. [volume] (Alexandria [D.C.]) 1825-1833, 1833-11-19
From. B!ackwood's Magazine, for October.
yesterday IN A MOUNTAIN
CHURCH-YARD.
BY MRS. HEMANS.

There is Sakening on the mighty hill,
klndling with the spirit OF the morn!
Rroht cleans are scatter'd from the thousand
ns,
And q soft visionary hue is born
On the young foliage, worn
~ all the imbosom'd woods, "a silvery green.
Made up Of spring aud dew, tremendously serene.
And 10! where floating through glory, sings
The Lark, alone amidst a crystal sky!
IO! where the darkness OF his buoyant wings,
Agains, soft aud rosy cloud on high,
Trembles with melody!
While the far echo,ng solitudes rejoice
To the rich laugh of music in that voice.
Bu, purer light than Of the early sun
|, on you cast, oh, mountains Of the earth!
And for your dwsllsrs nobler Joy is won
Than the sweet echoes Of the skylark's mirtb,
By this glad mornings birth!
And gifts more precious by its breath are shed
Than musieon the breeze, dew on the vioiet's
head.
ahs for the soul, from whuse illuminated eye
Der natures face the coloring glory flows;
G.fs from the fuunt of Immortality.
Which, fll'd with balm, unknown to human
woes,
Law hush'd in dark rspose,
Till Thou, bright Daysprins! mad'st its waves
our own,
By time unsealins Of the burial stone.
SIM, then, with all your choral strains, ye hills
Aud let full victorious tone be given
By rock and cavern 10 the wind which fills
Your urn.hke depths with sound! The tomb
is riyen,,
The radiant gate Of Heaven
rrf,lded-and the stern, dark shadow cast
B. Deaths o'ersweeping wing, from the earth's
bosom past.
And you, We graves! upon whose turf stand,
Grit with the slumber of the hamlet's Dead,
Time with soft and reconciling hand
The covering mantle Of bright moss hath spread
Ger every narrow bed:
But not by tune, and not by nature sown
Was the celestial seed, whence round you Peace
hath grown.
Christ hath arisen! oh. not one CHERISHED head
HAth midst the lowery sods, been pillow'd here
Without hope, (howe'er the heart hath bled
lnIts vain yearnings o'er the unconscious bier,i
A hope. upsprinsing clear
from those majestic tidlngs OF the morn,
Which Ii, the living way TO all Of woman born.
inOa hast wept mournfully, oh, human love!
Zen 90 this green sward: night hath heard thy
cry,
heartstricken one! thy precious dust above,
| Nlgnt and tho hilio xuhtsh Earth mn
reply
Unto thine agony!
hut He who wept like thee, thy Lord, thy guide,
CAnst hath arisen, oh Love! thy tears shall oil
be dried.
u DaS must have been the gushing Of those tears,
heavy the uuseeplng Phantom Of the tomb
W Va, 'hine impassoned soul, in elder years
"Aen, burden'd with the mystery Of the doom,
Il MOrtality's thick gloom
SSaos Ger the sunny world, and with the breath,
"@e triumphant rose, came bleeding thoughts
Of death.
:, nee sad Love. and BY thy sister, Fear,
eu vas the ideal robe Of beauty wrought
s @mi that haunting shadow, still too near,
W" ruling secretly the conqueror's thought,
w., And where the board was fraught
Nv "M VINE and myrtles in the summer bower,
'0' cen when disavow'd, presence and
power.
s"ns dark night is closed, and DER the dead,
't where the gleamy primrose tufts have
ss where the mountain heath q couch has