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Updated: May 26, 2025
Saint Swithin's Chair On Hallow-Mass Eve, ere ye boune ye to rest, Ever beware that your couch be bless'd; Sign it with cross, and sain it with bead, Sing the Ave, and say the Creed. For on Hallow-Mass Eve the Night-Hag will ride, And all her nine-fold sweeping on by her side, Whether the wind sing lowly or loud, Sailing through moonshine or swath'd in the cloud.
His happy lot I gladly share, And breathe a purer, freer air; No more by wealthy upstart spurn'd, The bread is sweet by labour earn'd; Indulgent heaven has bless'd the soil, And plenty crowns the woodman's toil.
Yet methinks to live O Heaven! to have Life pronounced by those Bless'd Lips Did they not inspire where they command, it were an immediate Death of Joy.
"I believe Shakespeare was right," she said, with a shy laugh and averted face. "Mercy is always twice bless'd. But I have not told you all, Mr. Van Berg. Yesterday was the most memorable day of my life. On Thursday Mr.
Hearts would leap otherwise at thy advance, Lady, to whom this Tower is consecrate! Like hers, thy face once made all eyes elate, Yet, unlike hers, was bless'd by every glance. The Tower of Hate is outworn, far and strange; A transitory shame of long ago; It dies into the sand from which it sprang; But thine, Love's rock-built Tower, shall fear no change.
After this, who can doubt the existence of miracles in the nineteenth century? I kneel beside the cold grey stone That tells me, dearest, thou art gone To realms more bless'd and left me still To struggle with this world of ill. But oft from out the silent mound Delusive fancy breathes a sound; My pent-up heart within me burns, And all the blessed past returns.
Quick dropp'd the music of her tongue, And forth, with eager joy, she sprung. As swift her ent'ring consort flew, And plum'd, and kindled at the view. Their wings, their souls, embracing, meet, Their hearts with answ'ring measure beat, Half lost in sacred sweets, and bless'd With raptures felt, but ne'er express'd.
They move a bosom steel'd to bear Its own unwonted load of care, That will not bend beneath despair Rise, dearest, rise. Life's but a troubled dream at best; These comes a time when grief shall rest, Kind, faithful hearts shall yet be bless'd 'Neath brighter skies! Oh Nature! in thy ever-varying face, By rocky shore, or 'neath the forest tree, What love divine, what matchless skill, I trace!
How touchingly expressive are the succeeding lines, wrung from a heart which all the trials and temptations and buffetings of the world could not render worldly; which, amid a thousand follies and errors of the head, still retained its childlike innocence; and which, doomed to struggle on to the last amid the din and turmoil of the metropolis, had ever been cheating itself with a dream of rural quiet and seclusion: "Oh, bless'd retirement! friend to life's decline, Retreats from care, that never must be mine, How blest is he who crowns, in shades like these, A youth of labor with an age of ease; Who quits a world where strong temptations try, And, since 'tis hard to combat, learns to fly!
Ida was indifferent to such petty details of life as unknown elderly gentlemen. Her mind was full of troubled thoughts about the friends she had left most of all that one friend whose thrilling voice still sounded in her ears that one voice which had power to move her deepest feeling. 'And come what may, I have been bless'd. That is a woman's first thought in any desperate case of this kind.
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