Martin Farquhar Tupper (1810 – 1880)
English writer, and poet, and the author of Proverbial Philosophy.
Rise! ye gallant youth of Britain,
Gather to your country's call,
On your hearts her name is written,
Rise to help her, one and all!
Away with false fashion, so calm and so chill,
Where pleasure itself cannot please;
Away with cold breeding, that faithlessly still
Affects to be quite at its ease;
For the deepest in feeling is highest in rank,
The freest is first of the band,
Nature's own Nobleman, friendly and frank,
Is a man with his heart in his hand!
Never give up! it is wiser and better
Always to hope, than once to despair.
Fling off the load of Doubt's cankering fetter,
And break the dark spell of tyrannical care.
The dews of Hermon rest upon thee now,
Fair saint and martyr! and yet once again
Faith, hope and charity, like gracious rain,
Fall on thy consecrated virgin brow.
"Let byegones be byegones," — they foolishly say,
And bid me be wise and forget them;
But old recollections are active to-day,
And I can do nought but regret them.
If the mind is wearied by study, or the body worn with sickness,
It is well to lie fallow for a while, in the vacancy of sheer amusement ;
But when thou prosprest in health, and thine intellect can soar untired,
To seek uninstructive pleasure is to slumber on the couch of indolence.
Tell me, ye that strive in vain to cramp and dwarf the soul,
Wherefore should it cease to be, and when shall essence die?
His fashion is passion, sincere and intense, —
His impulse is simple and true;
Yet temper'd by judgment, and taught by good sense,
And cordial with me and with you.
For life, good youth, hath never an ill
Which hope cannot scatter, and faith cannot kill;
And stubborn realities never shall bind
The free-spreading wings of a cheerful mind.
Error is a hardy plant; it flourisheth in every soil;
In the heart of the wise and good, alike with the wicked and foolish;
For there is no error so crooked, but it hath in it some lines of truth;
Nor is any poison so deadly, that it serveth not some wholesome use.
Clamorous pauperism feasteth
While honest Labor, pining, hideth his sharp ribs.
There is a limit to enjoyment, though the sources of wealth be boundless
And the choicest pleasures of life lie within the ring of moderation.
Wait, thou child of hope, for Time shall teach thee all things.
Hush,—for the halo of calmness is spreading
Over my spirit as mild as a dove;
Hush,—for the angel of comfort is shedding
Over my body his vial of love;
Hush,—for new slumbers are over me stealing,
Thus would I court them again and again,
Hush,—for my heart is intoxicate,—reeling
In the swift waltz of my beautiful brain!
Who can wrestle against Sleep? — Yet is that giant very gentleness.
I am not old, — I cannot be old,
Though tottering, wrinkled, and gray ;
Though my eyes are dim, and my marrow is cold,
Call me not old to-day.
Open the casement, and up with the Sun!
His gallant journey is just begun;
Over the hills his chariot is roll'd,
Banner'd with glory, and burnish'd with gold,—
Over the hills he comes sublime,
Bridegroom of Earth, and brother of Time!
Well-timed silence hath more eloquence than speech.
A babe in the house is a well-spring of pleasure, a messenger of peace and love, a resting place for innocence on earth, a link between angels and men.
Naples sitteth by the sea, keystone of an arch of azure,
Crowned by consenting nations peerless queen of gayety:
She laugheth at the wrath of Ocean, she mocketh the fury of Vesuvius,
She spurneth disease, and misery, and famine, that crowd her sunny streets.