Poem by Maria Jane Jewsbury

The Presence of Evil

 New times, new climes, new men, new arts, but still,
 The same old tears, old crimes, and oldest ill.

                                           Byron.

SIN thou hast filled our earth with woe,
Alike in city, bower, and wild,
Man but a captive walks below,
And sorrow reigns where Eden smiled;
If happiness awhile revives,
How soon thy evil influence blights it!
And when the heart with anguish strives.
Thou add'st a sting to all that smites it.
From morn till eve, from youth to age,
Unnumbered things we seek and prove,
We wander many a varied stage,
But never from thy power remove.
There's not a passion, pang, or care,
A pleasure, fancy, or emotion,
But thou, with storms, or spells, art there,
Dark spirit of the heart's wild ocean.
SIN thou hast made our earth, a grave,
Thy record in its dust we see,
And blasting fire, and 'whelming wave,
Are only images of thee;
Of thee, and of that darker death,
That hath through thee the soul o'ertaken
Great God, or stay thy creature's breath,
Or let this tyrant power be shaken!

1. The Happy Spirit
2. The Glory of the Heights
3. The Hour of Account
4. A Remembered Scene
5. Now Mine Eyes Seeth Thee

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