THE DOMESTIC AFFECTIONS by FELICIA DOROTHEA HEMANS

WHENCE are those tranquil joys in mercy given,
To light the wilderness with beams of Heaven?
To soothe our cares, and through the cloud diffuse
Their tempered sunshine and celestial hues?
Those pure delights, ordained on life to throw
Gleams of the bliss ethereal natures know?
Say, do they grace Ambition's regal throne,
When kneeling myriads call the world his own?
Or dwell with luxury, in the enchanted bowers,
Where taste and wealth exert @3creative@1 powers.

Favoured of Heaven! O Genius! are they thine,
When round thy brow the wreaths of glory shine;
While rapture gazes on thy radiant way,
'Midst the bright realms of clear and mental day?
No, sacred joys, 'tis yours to dwell enshrined,
Most fondly cherished in the purest mind;
To twine with flowers, those loved endearing ties,
On earth so sweet -- so perfect in the skies.

Nursed on the lap of solitude and shade,
The violet smiles, embosomed in the glade;
There sheds her spirit on the lonely gale,
Gem of seclusion! treasure of the vale!
Thus, far retired from life's tumultuous road,
Domestic bliss has fixed her calm abode.
Where hallowed innocence and sweet repose
May strew her shadowy path with many a rose.
As, when dread thunder shakes the troubled sky,
The cherub, infancy, can close its eye,
And sweetly smile, unconscious of a tear,
While viewless angels wave their pinions near;
Thus, while around the storms of discord roll,
Borne on resistless wing, from pole to pole;
While war's red lightnings desolate the ball,
And thrones and empires in destruction fall;
Then, calm as evening on the silvery wave,
When the wind slumbers in the ocean cave,
She dwells, unruffled, in her bower of rest,
@3Her@1 empire, home! -- her throne, affection's breast!

For her, sweet nature wears her loveliest blooms,
And softer sunshine every scene illumes.
When spring awakes the spirit of the breeze,
Whose light wing undulates the sleeping seas;
When summer, waving her creative wand,
Bids verdure smile, and glowing life expand;
Or autumn's pencil shed, with magic trace,
O'er fading loveliness, a moonlight grace;
Oh, still for her, through nature's boundless reign,
No charm is lost, no beauty blooms in vain;
While mental peace, o'er every prospect bright,
Throws mellowing tints, and harmonizing light.
Lo! borne on clouds in rushing might sublime,
Stern winter, bursting from the polar clime,
Triumphant waves his signal-torch on high,
The blood-red meteor of the northern sky:
And high through darkness rears his giant-form,
His throne, the billow -- and his flag, the storm!
Yet then, when bloom and sunshine are no more,
And the wild surges foam along the shore;
Domestic bliss! @3thy@1 heaven is still serene,
Thy star, unclouded, and thy myrtle green;
Thy fane of rest no raging storms invade,
Sweet peace is thine, the seraph of the shade;
Clear through the day, her light around thee glows,
And gilds the midnight of thy deep repose.
Hail! sacred home! where soft affection's hand,
With flowers of Eden twines her magic band,
Where pure and bright, the social ardours rise,
Concentrating all their holiest energies;
When wasting toil had dimmed the vital flame,
And every power deserts the sinking frame;
Exhausted nature still from sleep implores
The charm that lulls, the manna that restores.
Thus, when oppressed with rude tumultuous cares,
To thee, sweet home, the fainting mind repairs,
Still to thy breast, a wearied pilgrim flies,
Her ark of refuge from uncertain skies.

Bower of repose! when torn from all we love,
Through toil we struggle, or through distance rove;
To @3thee@1 we turn, still faithful, from afar,
Thee, our bright vista! thee, our magnet-star!
And from the martial field, the troubled sea,
Unfettered thought still roves to bliss and thee!

When ocean-soundsin awful slumber die,
No wave to murmur, and no gale to sigh;
Wide o'er the world, when peace and midnight reign,
And the moon trembles on the sleeping main,
At that still hour, the sailor wakes to keep,
'Midst the dead clam, the vigil of the deep;
No gleaming shores his dim horizon bound,
All heaven -- and sea -- and solitude -- around!
Then from the lonely deck, the silent helm,
From the wide grandeur of the shadowy realm;
Still homeward borne, his fancy unconfined,
Leaving the worlds of ocean far behind,
Wings like a meteor-flash her swift career,
To the loved scene, so distant and so dear.

Lo! the rude whirlwind rushes from its cave,
And danger frowns -- the monarch of the wave!
Lo! rocks and storms the striving bark repel,
And death and shipwreck ride the foaming swell.

Child of the ocean! is thy bier the surge,
Thy grave the billow, and the wind thy dirge!
Yes! thy long toils, thy weary conflicts o'er,
No storm shall wake, no perils rouse thee more.
Yet, in @3that@1 solemn hour, that awful strife,
The struggling agony for death or life;
E'en @3then@1, thy mind, embittering every pain,
Retraced the image so beloved -- in vain;
Still to sweet home, thy @3last@1 regrets were true,
Life's parting sigh -- the murmur of adieu.

Can war's dread scenes the hallowed ties efface,
Each tender thought, each fond remembrance chase?
Can fields of carnage, days of toil, destroy
The loved impressions of domestic joy.

Ye daylight dreams, that cheer the soldier's breast,
In hostile climes, with spells benign and blest;
Soothe his brave heart, and shed your
O'er the long march, through desolation's glowing ray, way;
Oh! still ye bear him from the ensanguined plain,
Armour's bright flash, and victory's choral strain;
To that loved home, where pure affection glows,
That shrine of bliss! asylum of repose!
When all is hushed -- the rage of combat past,
And no dread war-note swells the moaning blast;
When the warm throb of many a heart is o'er,
And many an eye is closed -- to wake no more;
Lulled by the night-wind, pillowed on the ground,
(The dewy death bed of his comrades round!)
While o'er the slain the tears of midnight weep,
Faint with fatigue, he sinks in slumbers deep;
E'en then, soft visions, hovering round, portray,
The cherished forms that o'er his bosom sway;
He sees fond transport light each beaming face,
Meets the warm teardrop, and the long embrace;
While the sweet welcome vibrates through his heart,
"Hail, weary soldier! -- never more to part."

And lo! at last, released from every toil,
He comes! the wanderer views his native soil!
Then the bright raptures, words can @3never@1 speak,
Flash in his eye, and mantle o'er his cheek;
Then love and friendship, whose unceasing prayer
Implored for him, each guardian spirit's care;
Who, for his fate, through sorrow's lingering year,
Had proved each thrilling pulse of hope and fear;
In that blest moment, all the past forget,
Hours of suspense! and vigils of regret.

And oh! for him, the child of rude alarms,
Reared by stern danger in the school of arms;
How sweet to change the war-song's pealing note,
For woodland sounds, in summer air that float,
Through vales of peace, o'er mountain wilds to roam,
And breathe his native gales that whisper "Home!"

Hail! sweet endearments of domestic ties,
Charms of existence! angel sympathies!
Though pleasure smile, a soft Circassian queen!
And guide her votaries through a fairy scene;
Where sylphic forms beguile their vernal hours,
With mirth and music, in Arcadian bowers;
Though gazing nations hail the fiery car,
That bears the sun of conquest from afar;
While Fame's loud paean bids his heart rejoice,
And every life-pulse vibrates to her voice;
Yet from your source @3alone@1 in mazes bright,
Flows the full current of serene delight.

On freedom's wing, that every wild explores,
Through realms of space, the aspiring eagle soars;
Darts o'er the clouds, exulting to admire,
Meridian glory -- on her throne of fire;
Bird of the sun! his keen, unwearied gaze,
Hails the full noon, and triumphs in the blaze;
But soon, descending from his height sublime,
Day's burning fount, and light's empyreal clime
Once more he speeds to joys more calmly blest,
'Midst the dear inmates of his lonely nest.

Thus Genius, mounting on his bright career,
Through the wide regions of the mental sphere;
And proudly waving, in his gifted hand,
O'er Fancy's worlds, Invention's plastic wand;
Fearless and firm, with lightning-eye surveys
The clearest heaven of intellectual rays;
Yet on his coursethough loftiest hopes attend,
And kindling raptures aid him to ascend;
(While in his mind, with high-born grandeur fraught,
Dilate the noblest energies of thought;)
Still, from the bliss, ethereal and refined,
Which crowns the soarings of triumphant mind,
At length he flies, to that serene retreat,
Where calm and pure, the mild affections meet,
Embosomed there, to feel and to impart,
The softer pleasures of the social heart.

Ah! weep for those deserted and forlorn,
From every tie, by fate relentless torn.
See, on the barren coast, the lonely isle,
Marked with no step, uncheered by human smile;
Heart-sick and faint, the shipwrecked wanderer stand.
Raise the dim eye, and lift the suppliant hand:
Explore with fruitless gase the billowy main,
And weep -- and pray -- and linger! -- but in vain.

Thence, roving wild through many a depth of shade,
Where voice ne'er echoed, footstep never strayed;
He fondly seeks, o'er cliffs and deserts rude,
Haunts of mankind, 'midst realms of solitude;
And pauses oft, and sadly hears alone,
The wood's deep sigh, the surge's distant moan;
All else is hushed! so silent, so profound,
As if some viewless power, presiding round,
With mystic spell unbroken by a breath:
Had spread for ages the repose of death;
Ah! still the wanderer, by the boundless deep,
Lives but to watch, -- and watches but to weep;
He sees no sail in faint perspective rise,
His the dread loneliness of sea and skies;
Far from his cherished friends, his native shore,
Banished from being -- to return no more!
There must he die! -- within that circling wave,
That lonely isle -- his prison and his grave.

Lo! through the waste, the wilderness of snows,
With fainting step, Siberia's exile goes;
Homeless and sad, o'er many a polar wild,
Where beam, or flower, or verdure never smiled,
Where frost and silence hold their despot-reign,
And bind existence in eternal chain;
Child of the desert! pilgrim of the gloom,
Dark is the path which leads thee to the tomb;
While on thy faded cheek, the arctic air
Congeals the bitter tear-drop of despair;
Yet not, that fate condemns thy closing day
In that stern clime, to shed its parting ray
Not that fair Nature's loveliness and light,
No more shall beam enchantment on thy sight;
Ah! not for @3this@1, far, far beyond relief,
Deep in thy bosom dwells the hopeless grief;
But that no friend of kindred heart is there,
Thy woes to meliorate, thy toils to share;
That no mild soother fondly shall assuage;
The stormy trials of thy lingering age;
No smile of tenderness, with angel power,
Lull the dread pangs of dissolution's hour;
For this alone, despair, a withering guest,
Sits on thy brow, and cankers in thy breast.

Yes, there, e'en there, in that tremendous clime,
Where desert grandeur frowns, in pomp sublime;
Where winter triumphs, through the polar night,
In all his wild magnificence of might;
E'en @3there@1, Affection's hallowed spell might pour,
The light of heaven around the inclement shore;
And, like the vales with bloom and sunshine graced,
That smile, by circling Pyrenees embraced,
Teach the pure heart, with vital fires to glow,
E'en 'midst the world of solitude and snow;
The Halcyon's charm, thus dreaming fictions feign,
With mystic power could tranquillize the main;
Bid the loud wind, the mountain-billow sleep,
And peace and silence brood upon the deep.

And thus, Affection, can @3thy@1 voice compose
The stormy tide of passions and of woes;
Bid every throb of wild emotion cease,
And lull misfortune in the arms of peace,

Oh! mark you drooping form, of aged mien,
Wan, yet resigned, and hopeless yet serene;
Long ere victorious time had sought to chase
The bloom, the smile, that once illumed his face;
That faded eye was dimmed with many a care,
Those waving locks were silvered by despair;
Yet filial love can pour the sovereign balm,
Assuage his pangs, his wounded spirit calm.
He, a sad emigrant! condemned to roam
In life's pale autumn from his ruined home:
Has borne the shock of peril's darkest wave,
Where joy -- and hope -- and fortune -- found a grave!
'Twas his to see destruction's fiercest band,
Rush, like a TYPHON, on his native land,
And roll, triumphant, on their blasted way,
In fire and blood -- the deluge of dismay;
Unequal combat raged on many a plain,
And patriot valour waved the sword -- in vain.
Ah! gallant exile! nobly, long he bled
Long braved the tempest gathering o'er his head
Till all was lost, and horror's darkening eye,
Roused the stern spirit of despair -- to die!

Ah! gallant exile! in the storm that rolled
Far o'er his country, rushing uncontrolled;
The flowers that graced his path with loveliest bloom,
Torn by the blast -- were scattered on the tomb!
When carnage burst, exulting in the strife,
The bosom ties that bound his soul to life;
Yet one was spared! and she, whose filial smile,
Can soothe his wanderings and his tears beguile,
E'en @3then@1, could temper, with divine relief,
The wild delirium of unbounded grief;
And whispering peace conceal, with duteous art,
Her own deep sorrows in her inmost heart;
And now, though time, subduing every trace,
Has @3mellowed@1 all, he @3never@1 can @3erase;@1
Oft will the wanderer's tears in silence flow,
Still sadly faithful to remembered woe!
Then she, who feels a father's pang alone
(Still fondly struggling to suppress her own)
With anxious tenderness is ever nigh,
To chase the image that awakes the sigh;
Her angel voice his fainting soul can raise
To brighter visions of celestial days!
And speak of realms where virtue's wing shall soar
On eagle plume -- to wonder and adore.
And friends, divided here, shall meet at last,
Unite their kindred souls -- and smile on all the past.

Yes, we may hope that nature's deathless ties,
Renewed, refined -- shall triumph in the skies!
Heart-soothing thought! whose loved consoling power,
With seraph-dreams can gild reflection's hour;
Oh! still be near, and brightening through the gloom,
Beam and ascend, the day-star of the tomb!
And smile for those, in sternest ordeals proved,
Those lonely hearts, bereft of all they loved!

Lo! by the couch, where pain and chill disease,
In every vein the ebbing life-blood freeze;
Where youth is taught, by stealing slow decay,
Life's closing lesson -- in its dawning day;
Where beauty's rose is withering are its prime,
Unchanged by sorrow -- and unsoiled by time;
There, bending still, with fixed and sleepless eye,
There, from her child, the mother learns -- to die;
Explores, with fearful gaze, each mournful trace
Of lingering sickness in the faded face;
Through the sad night when every hope is fled.
Keeps her lone vigil by the sufferer's bed;
And starts each morn as deeper marks declare
The spoiler's hand -- the blight of death is there.
He comes! now feebly in th' exhausted frame,
Slow, languid, quivering, burns the vital flame;
From the glazed eyeball sheds its parting ray,
Dim, transient spark, that fluttering fades away!
Faint beats the hovering pulse, the trembling heart,
Yet fond existence lingers -- ere she part!

'Tis past! the struggle and the pang are o'er,
And life shall throb with agony no more!
While o'er the wasted form, the features pale,
Death's awful shadows throw their silvery veil!
Departed spirit! on this earthly sphere,
Though poignant suffering marked thy short career,
Still could maternal love beguile thy woes,
And hush thy sighs -- an angel of repose.

But who may charm @3her@1 sleepless pang to rest,
Or draw the thorn that rankles in her breast?
And while she bends in silence o'er thy bier,
Assuage the grief, too heart-sick for a tear?
Visions of hope! in loveliest hues arrayed,
Fair scenes of bliss! by Fancy's hand portrayed,
And were ye doomed, with false, illusive smile,
With flattering promise, to enchant awhile?
And are ye vanished, never to return,
Set in the darkness of the mouldering urn?
Will no bright hour departed joys restore?
Shall the sad parent meet her child no more;
Behold no more the soul-illumined face,
Th' expressive smile, the animated grace?
Must the fair blossom, withered in the tomb,
Revive no more in loveliness and bloom?
Descend, blest Faith! dispel the hopeless care,
And chase the gathering phantoms of despair;
Tell that the flower transplanted in its morn,
Enjoys bright Eden, freed from every thorn;
Expands to milder suns, and softer dews,
The full perfection of immortal hues!
Tell that when mounting to her native skies,
By death released, the parent-spirit flies;
There shall the child, in anguish mourned so long
With rapture hail her, 'midst the cherub throng;
And guide her pinion, on exulting flight,
Through glory's boundless realms, and worlds of living light!

Ye gentle spirits of departed friends!
If e'er on earth your buoyant wing descends;
If with benignant care, ye linger near,
To guard the objects in existence dear;
If hovering o'er, ethereal band! ye view
The tender sorrows, to @3your@1 memory true;
Oh! in the musing hour, at midnight deep,
While for your loss Affection wakes to weep;
While every sound in hallowed stillness lies,
But the low murmur of her plaintive sighs;
Oh! then, amidst that holy calm, be near,
Breathe your light whisper softly in her ear!
With secret spells her wounded mind compose;
And chase the faithful tear -- for you that flows;
Be near! when moonlight spreads the charm you loved,
O'er scenes where once your @3earthly@1 footstep roved
Then, while she wanders o'er the sparkling dew,
Through glens, and wood-paths, once endeared by you,
And fondly lingers, in your favourite bowers,
And pauses oft, recalling former hours;
Then wave your pinion o'er each well-known vale,
Float in the moonbeam, sigh upon the gale!
Bid your wild symphonies remotely swell,
Borne by the summer-wind, from grot and dell;
And touch your viewless harps, and soothe her soul,
With soft enchantments and divine control!
Be near! sweet guardians! watch her sacred rest,
When slumber folds her in his magic vest
Around her, smiling, let your forms arise,
Returned in dreams, to bless her mental eyes;
Efface the memory of your last farewell,
Of glowing joys, of radiant prospects, tell;
The sweet communion of the past, renew,
Reviving former scenes, arrayed in softer hue.

Be near, when death, in virtue's brightest hour,
Calls up each pang, and summons all his power;
Oh! then, transcending Fancy's loveliest dream;
Then let your forms, unveiled, around her beam;
Then waft the visions of unclouded light,
A burst of glory, on her closing sight!
Wake from the harp of heaven the immortal strain,
To hush the final agonies of pain;
With rapture's flame, the parting soul illume.
And smile triumphant through the shadowy gloom.
Oh! still be near, when darting into day,
Th' exulting spirit leaves her bonds of clay,
Be yours to guide her fluttering wing on high,
O'er many a world, ascending to the sky;
There let your presence, once her earthly joy,
Though dimmed with tears, and clouded with alloy;
Now form her bliss on that celestial shore,
Where death shall sever kindred hearts no more.
Yes! in the noon of that Elysian clime,
Beyond the sphere of anguish, death, or time;
Where mind's bright eye, with renovated fire,
Shall beam on glories -- never to expire;
Oh! there, th' illumined soul may fondly trust,
More pure, more perfect, rising from the dust;
Those mild affections whose consoling light
Sheds the soft moonbeam on terrestrial night;
Sublimed, ennobled, shall for ever glow,
Exalting rapture -- not assuaging woe.

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