Hymn to the Evening Star

Be hallowed thy memory, illustrious shade !

A shepherd can ill understand,
But he weens that as clear and unbiassed a head,
As clean and less sordid a hand,
Or a heart more untainted, did never command
The wealth of a nation on earth ;
And he knows that long hence, when his head's low as thine,
That the Good, and the Great, and the Brave, and
Benign,
And the Lovers of Country and King, will combine
To hallow the hour of thy birth !

ARISE, arise, thou Queen of love !

Thy bed is chilled with evening dew ;
Thy robe the virgin fays have wove,
And reared thy canopy of blue.

O, let me see thy golden breast,
Thy amber halo o'er the hill,
And all the chambers of the west,
Thy coronal with glory fill !

O come ! — the evening colours fade.

Soft silence broods o'er lawn and lea ;
And beauty in the greenwood shade
Uplifts a longing eye for thee.

Thy temple be this sylvan bower,
Where wounded lovers kneel confest ;
Thine altar-cloth the daisy flower ;
Thy tabernacle beauty's breast.

Be this thy dearest, holiest shrine ;
Thy breviary two beaming eyes ;
And aye I'll pant to see thee shine —
Beloved star, arise, arise !

O let thy spirit seek the glade,
To hear thy holy vesper sung, —
But tell not where my cheek was laid,
Nor where my careless arm was flung.

As slowly steals, on angel's wing,
Thy light pavilion down the sky,
Before thee let young seraphs sing
The softest love-sick melody !

And here on thy beloved shrine,
Where fragrant flames of incense glow,
Pure as that heavenly breast of thine,
And fairer than the virgin snow ;
Here will I worship with delight,
And pay the vows I made to thee,
Until thy mild and modest light
Is cradled on the heaving sea.