1830-40.] SALMON P. CHASE. 171 Tliat still attends earth's loveliest, enter thou The port of peace eternal ! They passed on — Such visions never last — and, ray by ray, From earth and sky and from the spark- ling wave The glory all departed. Even so, I thought — and with the thought a heavy sigh Came from my inmost heart — must fade away All that the earth of beautiful inherits. And so must these bright creatures pass from earth, Leaving behind, to tell that they have been, Naught but the memory of their loveliness, Like fragrance lingering still around the spot Where late the rose was bloominor. TO A STAR. Mournful thy beam, pale star ! Shining afar with solitary light, Though hosts around thee are. Decking the bosom of the blue midnight. I would not be as thou ! Cut off from all communion with my kind. Though round me might blaze now The hght and glory in which thou art shrin'd. For thou art all alone ! Companionless in thine afar career — While silently rolls on. In paths of living light, each radiant sphere. Thy goings forth have been, In thy bright beauty, since that elder time, When, undefiled by sin, Earth too was lovely in her being's prime. And still thou art the same ! As beautiful and fair as then thou wert ; As if thy virgin flame Had power Time's wasting influence to avert. Shine on awhile, thou star ! Yet shall thy brightness fade in endless night ; Roll on thy diamond car ! Yet soon thy fiery track will not be bright. Then shall a star arise ! A star far lovelier than night's brightest gem, To shine in purer skies, — The fadeless, glorious star of Bethlehem ! THEMES. Lightly that feather floats upon the vi^ind ! Yet in the eternal balance mightiest deeds Of mightiest men are lighter ! Yes : Plutus is the god of little souls. Who, in his dark caves searching, may em- ploy Eyes which the sun had blinded ! How oft does seeming worth, that thorn- less rose. Shoot out, when by Affection nurtured, The rough thorns of Ingratitude, and wound The gentle hand that tends it. How shifts the varying scene ! The great, to-day. Are by the turn of fickle Fortune's wheel To-moiTow mingled with the general mass.
