"
A generation nurtured in poetic susceptibility by the genius of Keats and
Tennyson, should not forget the early muse of Crashaw. His verse is the
very soul of tenderness and imaginative luxury: less intellectual, less
severe in the formation of a broad, manly character than Herbert; catching
up the brighter inspirations of Vaughan, and excelling him in richness--it
has a warm, graceful garb of its own. It is tinged with the glowing hues
of Spenser's fancy; baptized in the fountains of sacred love, it draws an
earthly inspiration from the beautiful in nature and life, as in the
devout paintings of the great Italian masters, we find the models of their
angels and seraphs on earth.
MISERERE DOMINE.
BY WILLIAM H. BURLEIGH.
Thou who look'st with pitying eye
From Thy radiant home on high,
On the spirit tempest-tost,
Wretched, weary, wandering, lost--
Ever ready help to give,
And entreating, "_Look and live!_"
By that love, exceeding thought,
Which from Heaven the Saviour brought,
By that mercy which could dare
Death to save us from despair,
Lowly bending at Thy feet,
We adore, implore, entreat,
Lifting heart and voice to Thee--
_Miserere Domine_!
With the vain and giddy throng,
FATHER! we have wandered long;
Eager from Thy paths to stray,
Chosen the forbidden way;
Heedless of the light within,
Hurried on from sin to sin,
And with scoffers madly trod
On the mercy of our God!
Now to where Thine altars burn,
FATHER! sorrowing we return.
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