X. FROM FREDERICK TO HONORIA.

Cousin, my thoughts no longer try

To cast the fashion of the sky.

Imagination can extend

Scarcely in part to comprehend

The sweetness of our common food

Ambrosial, which ingratitude

And impious inadvertence waste,

Studious to eat but not to taste.

And who can tell what's yet in store

There, but that earthly things have more

Of all that makes their inmost bliss,

And life's an image still of this,

But haply such a glorious one

As is the rainbow of the sun?

Sweet are your words, but, after all

Their mere reversal may befall

The partners of His glories who

Daily is crucified anew:

Splendid privations, martyrdoms

To which no weak remission comes

Perpetual passion for the good

Of them that feel no gratitude,

Far circlings, as of planets’ fires,

Round never-to-be-reach'd desires,

Whatever rapturously sighs

That life is love, love sacrifice.

All I am sure of heaven is this:

Howe'er the mode, I shall not miss

One true delight which I have known.

Not on the changeful earth alone

Shall loyalty remain unmoved

T'wards everything I ever loved.

So Heaven's voice calls, like Rachel's voice

To Jacob in the field,‘ Rejoice!’

Serve on some seven more sordid years,

Too short for weariness or tears;

Serve on; then, oh, Beloved, well-tried,

Take me for ever as thy Bride!’