Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine — Volume 53, No. 329, March, 1843. Various

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      Yes, there's a patent of nobility

      Above the meanness of our common state;

      With what they do the vulgar natures buy

      Its titles—and with what they are, the great!

      When draw the Prosperous near me, I forget

      The gods of heaven; but where

      Sorrow and suffering in my sight are set,

      The gods, I feel, are there!

      What the chief end of Man?—Behold yon tree,

      And let it teach thee, Friend!

       Will what that will-less yearns for;—and for thee

      Is compass'd Man's chief end!

      To gain his home all oceans he explored—

      Here Scylla frown'd—and there Charybdis roar'd;

      Horror on sea—and horror on the land—

      In hell's dark boat he sought the spectre land,

      Till borne—a slumberer—to his native spot

      He woke—and sorrowing, knew his country not!

      'Twas not my nectar made thy strength divine,

      But 'twas thy strength which made my nectar thine!

      See, full of hope, thou trustest to the earth

      The golden seed, and waitest till the spring

      Summons the buried to a happier birth;

      But in Time's furrow duly scattering,

      Think'st thou, how deeds by wisdom sown may be,

      Silently ripen'd for Eternity?

      Where sails the ship?—It leads the Tyrian forth

      For the rich amber of the liberal North.

      Be kind ye seas—winds lend your gentlest wing,

      May in each creek, sweet wells restoring spring!—

      To you, ye gods, belong the Merchant!—o'er

      The waves, his sails the wide world's goods explore;

      And, all the while, wherever waft the gales,

      The wide world's good sails with him as he sails!

      Steer on, bold Sailor—Wit may mock thy soul that sees the land,

      And hopeless at the helm may drop the weak and weary hand,

      YET EVER—EVER TO THE WEST, for there the coast must lie,

      And dim it dawns and glimmering dawns before thy reason's eye;

      Yea, trust the guiding God—and go along the floating grave,

      Though hid till now—yet now, behold the New World o'er the wave!

      With Genius Nature ever stands in solemn union still,

      And ever what the One foretels the Other shall fulfil.

      And o'er the river hast thou past, and o'er the mighty sea,

      And o'er the Alps, the dizzy bridge hath borne thy steps to me;

      To look all near upon the bloom my deathless beauty knows,

      And, face to face, to front the pomp whose fame through ages goes—

      Gaze on, and touch my relics now! At last thou standest here,

      But art thou nearer now to me—or I to thee more near?

      What the Grecian arts created,

      May the victor Gaul, elated,

      Bear with banners to his strand.45

      In museums many a row,

      May the conquering showman show

      To his startled Fatherland!

      Mute to him, they crowd the halls,

      Ever on their pedestals

      Lifeless stand they!—He alone

      Who alone, the Muses seeing,

      Clasps—can warm them into being;

      The Muses to the Vandal—stone!

      "Who would himself with shadows entertain,

      Or gild his life with lights that shine in vain,

      Or nurse false hopes that do but cheat the true?

      Though with my dream my heaven should be resign'd—

      Though the free-pinion'd soul that now can dwell

      In the large empire of the Possible,

      This work-day life with iron chains may bind,

      Yet thus the mastery o'er ourselves we find,

      And solemn duty to our acts decreed,

      Meets us thus tutor'd in the hour of need,

      With a more sober and submissive mind!

      How front Necessity—yet bid thy youth

      Shun the mild rule of life's calm sovereign, Truth."

      So speak'st thou, friend, how stronger far than I;