b'/y \n\n\n\ni \n\n\n\n\n[ \n\n\n\n/ \n\n\n\n\n>rul \n\n\n\nPuhli shed hy J.jMortinier :N?74 S" 2"^ , St . \n\n\n\ni \n\n\n\n( 1828 \n\n\n\n\n\n\nAitt\xc2\xaema\xc2\xa9Air liisrOTmga* \n\n\n\nEastern District of Pennsylvania^ to wit : \n\n^^fftf^ BE IT REMEMBERED, that on the thir- \n^^w^W^j, tieth day of June, in the fifty-second year \n^1^^^ \xc2\xael>^ \xc2\xb0^ ^^\xc2\xae Independence of the United States of \nt^^fflfe America, A. D. 1828, Charles Mead, of the \n*w^5j^^!^ said District, has deposited in this office the \ntitle of a book, tiie right whereof he claims \nas author, in the words following, to wit : \xe2\x80\x94 \n\n" American Minstrel ; consisting of Poetical Essays \non various subjects. By Chas. Mead." \n\nIn conformity to the Act of the Congress of the United \nStates, intituled, " An act for the Encouragement of \nLearning, by securing the Copies of Maps, Charts, and \nBooks, to the Authors and Proprietors of such Copies, \nduring the times therein mentioned\'" \xe2\x80\x94 And also to the \nAct, entitled, " An Act supplementary to an Act, entitled, \n" An Act for the encouragement of Learning, by secur- \ning the Copies of Maps, Charts and Books, to the Au- \nthors and Proprietors of such copies during the times \ntherein mentioned," and extending the benefits thereof \nto the arts of designing, engraving, and etching histori- \ncal and other prints." \n\nD. CALDWELL, \nClerk of the Eastern District of Pennsylvania. \n\n\n\nW. PILKINGTON & CO. PRINTERS. \n\n\n\nINTRODUCTION. \n\n\n\nWith the same deference that I always feel \ntowards a respected and long tried friend, I now \noffer to the public a volume of Poetical Essays ; \nthe fruits of my less profitable, but more pleas- \ning hours, spent in the fields of imagination. \nIn laying this work before the eyes of a scruti- \nnizing community, it is not to be supposed that I \nshould feel a total indifference in regard to its \nreception. My anxiety, however, neither arises \nfrom the fear of pedantic declaimers, nor from \nthe hope that candour and intelligence will forbear \nto give it that censure which it may be found to \ndeserve. Candid and judicious censure belongs \nto the province of criticism ; and every writer \nshould bow with passive obedience to its decisions. \nBut while ever ready to yield to the opinions of \nthose who are duly qualified to exercise, with jus- \ntice and impartiality, the duties of literary censors, \nI shall consider the illiberal denunciations of those \nwho are influenced either by a groveling prejudice, \n\n\n\nIV \n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nor a \n\ncations \n\nto gratify the public. \n\nDuring a series of prosperous years since our \nnational existence, the tyranny of those whose \npredilections are wholly confined to European \nliterature, has been gradually loosing its influence ; \nand every American now feel his heart warmed \nwith thrilling emotions of honest pride, as he con- \ntemplates the rising importance of his own coun- \ntry. The period has at length arrived when our \nliterary as well as political independence is so far \nestablished, that poetry is not to be rejected solely \nfrom its being American. And while we cherish \na lasting regard for the land of our fathers, and \nadmire its scientific and literary elevation, we are \nnot disposed, in all cases, to look beyond the At- \nlantic for the most salutary food for the American \nmind. The clouds of political and literary ortho- \ndoxy are giving way to the sunshine of reason ; \nand an intelligent public is no longer allured by \nthe fallacious arguments and idle declamations of \nthose who have paid their homage at the feet of \nregal power, and afterwards established them- \nselves in this country as the models of perfection \nin regard to literary taste. \n\n\n\nINTRODUCTION. V \n\nSuch have been the illiberal and selfish princi- \nples of some of our editorial gentlemen, as to \nexercise a hostile disposition towards every author \nwho, either in politics or religion, has advanced \nsentiments not congenial with their own. But \nour country at this time contains a large portion \nof inhabitants whose minds are too expansive to \nbe confined within the narrow limits of party \nproscription or sectarian creeds. Opponents \nmay, however, be expected by every author whose \nproductions are so fortunate as to meet with a \nshare of public approbation. There are many \nwhose intellectual powers are of an inferior order, \nwho are the most eager to appear as combatants \nwith those who may presume to enter the fields \nwhich their own idle dreams of superiority have \nappropriated exclusively to themselves. While \nothers whose minds are artificially filled with the \nliterature of antiquity, and who consider a course \nof collegiate studies as the only legitimate pass- \nport to public favour ; \xe2\x80\x94 proud of receiving the \nsmiles and patronage of those whom wealth and \nignorance have rendered conspicuous, they boldly \nassume to themselves a kind of despotic power in \nthe republic of letters. Though but the mere \ncreatures of arrogance and vanity, they com- \n\nA 2 \n\n\n\nVI INTRODUCTION. \n\nmence offensive warfare, and deal out their denun- \nciations against others with as much confidence as \nif they could wield the club of Hercules, or make \nthe lightning of Jupiter subservient to their pur- \nposes. \n\nLike reptiles croaking round the stagnant pools, \nConceited blockheads and aspiring fools, \nWith silly cants and with disorder\'d eyes, \n.Strain their thick skulls and vainly criticise ; \nAnd censure those who deprecate the praise, \nOf scribbling coxcombs or pedantic lays. \nThere\'s many a dunce who writes a page or two, \nCan call his trash a regular review. \nAnd gain applause in all his promenades, \nWith unfledg\'d bards, and gossipping old maids. \n\nThere\'s modern Sysiphus, a noisy calf, \nWho builds stupendous monuments of chaff \nWithout one grain of sense in all his stuff. \nHe long has labour\'d, and we\'ve heard him puff. \nThe trash brought forward by this modest elf, \nRemains now mould\'ring on the dusty shelf; \nHis hermit is his cell, securely guards \nFrom public view his book on native Bards, \nAnd, no one now can be induced to call \nAnd see the products of a crazy Wal- n. \n\nSir Robert Walsh who most demurely looks, \nWith paste and scissors manufactures books ; \nAnd vainly strives a censor\'s chair to grace, \nThough Nature meant him for some other place. \n\n\n\nINTRODUCTION. Vll \n\nBut may kind Heaven its genial influence shed, \nAnd turn to gold his British crown of lead ; \nNor let the little Jesuit he seen, \nMonarch of caprice, arrogance, and spleen. \n\nProud of the dirt receiv\'d from feet of Kings, \nGreat Everret soars on egotism\'s wings : \nHe thinks all native works deserving death. \nAnd breathes on all his pestilential breath. \nHis classic whims have furnish\'d many an odd dish. \nOf Yankee notions, politics, and codfish. \n\nA famous writer oft to show his skill, \nGave to the west the labour of his quill ; \n\'Tis lawyer Hunt whose talents far surpass, \nIn the Belles Lettres those of Balaam\'s ass. \nAnd those who read the Lexington Review, \nMay find the declaration just and true. \n\nLiquid extracts no longer now inspire \nThe Boston Bard with alcoholic fire. \nBut still we hear a frantic muse reveal. \nThe incoherent rantings of John Neal ; \nAnd fruits of most pedantic pride are found \nIn a Fairfield, where useless weeds abound. \n\nSome shining prospects move each plodding wight, \nTo praise himself, to criticise, and write. \nSome deal in books with sanctimonious airs, \nAnd count their cash by artificial pray\'rs. \nAnd retail slander from a wholesale store, \nAnd only foster sacerdotal lore. \n\nBut let my muse in higher strains aspire. \nO\'er low contention and o\'er self desire. \n\n\n\nVIU INTRODUCTIOIV. \n\nYet still presume to offer notes of praise, \nTo those who sound with skill poetic lays : \nFor lo ! Apollo from Parnassus\' crest, \nSalutes the rising genius of the west ; \nAnd bids the springs of fair Pierus pour. \nTheir sparkling streams upon Columbia\'s shore. \nWoodworth and Percivalnow sound the lyre, \nAnd breathe around the true poetic fire. \nOsborn like Chatterton, poor child of fame, \nHas only left his poetry and name ; \nBut future bards will with delight peruse. \nThe glowing pictures of his sprightly muse. \nAnd unborn thousands will their fondness show, \nFor long neglected beauties of. Freneau ; \nAnd Barlow\'s Epic strains will yet be blest, \nWhen all his critics in oblivion rest. \n\nTHE AUTHOR. \n\n\n\nCONTENTS. \n\n\n\nPAGE. \n\nAmerican Resources ------ 21 \n\nAutumn --------52 \n\nAmerican Volunteers ----- 74 \n\nAddress for the opening of a New Theatre - 80 \n\nBanks of Hudson 99 \n\nBattle of Orleans 105 \n\nCamp Meeting - - - - - -113 \n\nClose of Life 133 \n\nConflagration ------- 150 \n\nDeparted days -------58 \n\nDelusions of Hope ------ 97 \n\nElegy on the death of Thomas Jefferson - - 62 \nEmpire of Peace ------ 109 \n\nEnigmas ------.- 140 \n\nFancy -- 77 \n\nFourth of July 87 \n\nFall of a Leaf ------- 98 \n\nFanaticism - - - - - - -111 \n\nFirst of May 131 \n\nFairraount Water-works ----- 169 \n\nFuture Prospects of the United States - , - 171 \n\nA 2* \n\n\n\nX CONTENTS. \n\nPAGE. \n\nGenius of Liberty - 14 \n\nGeneral La Fayette - 65 \n\nJubilee - - 60 \n\nLove\'s Lamentation ------ 101 \n\nMiseries of War 89 \n\nMusic 94 \n\nNational Prosperity ------ 18 \n\nNorthern \'Canal ------ 72 \n\nNews Carrier\'s Address ----- 125 \n\nOde in commemoration of the American Inde- \npendence -------27 \n\nOde to Peace ------- 46 \n\nOde to Greece ------- 107 \n\nParent of all - - 13 \n\nPride of Neptune ------ 17 \n\nPenn\'s Treaty 68 \n\nPoverty Snd Genius ------ 84 \n\nPainting --------95 \n\nRural Retirement -----. I59 \n\nSpring 48 \n\nSummer -----... 5Q \n\nSocial Evening ----- . 55 \n\nSun-rise at Sea ----._ 54 \n\nSouth American Independence - - - . 66 \n\nSymmes\' Theory 128 \n\nStanzas on leaving New York - - - - 139 \n\nStanzas written in a remote part of Louisiana - 157 \n\nSailing Party 162 \n\n\n\nCONTENTS. XI \n\nPAGE. \n\nTo the Sun 23 \n\nTo the Moon 24 \n\nThe Solar System 25 \n\nTriumphs of Patriotism ----- 29 \n\nThe Tornado 78 \n\nThe Ocean 86 \n\nThe Tear 92 \n\nTo my Flute 96 \n\nThe Serenade 103 \n\nThe Dream - 134 \n\nThe Rainbow - ^ 137 \n\nThe Kiss - - - 138. \n\nThe Cave 152 \n\nTyranny of Wealth 165 \n\nTime - - - - ^- - - - 173 \n\nUngrateful Monarch 123 \n\nVictim of Adversity ------ 141 \n\nVision of Love ------- 146 \n\nView from Catskill Mountain - - - - 167 \n\nWinter 54 \n\nWestern Solitude 154 \n\n\n\nAMERICAN MINSTREL, \n\n\n\nTHE PARENT OF ALL. \n\nGreat God of the Universe ! boundless in pow\'r ! \n\nThy mandate of goodness we all must obey. \nWhen round us the storms of adversity low\'r, \nOr sunshine of happiness brightens our day, \nOn thy earthly province, as children we share \nThy infinite kindness, thy mercy and care. \nAnd all that inhabit the ocean and land, \nOr fly through the air. \nAre made by thy hand ; \nThe ugly, the fair, \nThe great and the small, \nFruition partake from the Parent of all. \n\nAll nature thy impress presents to the eye ; \n\nWe se,-* that thy presence immensity fills. \nAs we gaze with delight on the star-spangled sky, \n\nOr view the green vesture that covers the hills. \nFrom reptiles of earth to the seraphs above, \nAll beings proclaim thy omnipotent love. \n\n\n\n14 AMERICAN M INST BEL. \n\n\n\nAnd what are the forms of devotion to Thee \n\nFrom mortals below. \n\nBelief should be free, \n\nCan splendour and show \n\nEnlighten the soul, \nAnd lead us in love to the Parent of all ? \n\nWhile nations and people who dwell on this sphere, \n\nWage horrible wars in defence of their creeds; \nAnd mingle their blood with humanity\'s tear. \n\nThe purest religion from virtue proceeds; \nThe purest of incense to Heaven aspires \nFrom hearts unpolluted with vicious desires. \nAs worlds without uumber in harmony roll, \nMajestic and grand. \nAnd show thy control ; \nLet all human kind \nWho dwell on this ball, \nAcknowledge in peace the great Parent of all, \n\n\n\nAMERICAN MI^\'STREL. 15 \n\n\n\nTHE GENIUS OF LIBERTY. \n\nWhere nature spread smiles of enchantment around, \nAnd earth\'s fairest scenes caught the beams of Aurora, \n\nI listen\'d with rapture to music\'s sweet sounds, \nAnd view\'d with delight the productions of Flora. \n\nPerfum\'d were the breezes of morning that roll\'d, \n\nThe sky\'s floating curtains were glist\'ning with gold. \n\nOn a mountain\'s high summit that rose in the west, \nPresenting its laurels and ever-green bowers. \n\nThere Liberty\'s Genius resplendently drest, \n\nIn star spangled banners and garlands of flowers, \n\nArose, and to Heaven extended one hand. \n\nWhile the other spread streams of delight o\'er the land. \n\nThe Goddess proclaim\'d from her safe guarded throne. \nHow her sons broke the fetters of tyrants asunder; \n\nHow her proud invaders were all overthrown. \n\nBy the force of her lightning and mandates of thunder; \n\nAnd the deeds of her heroes she joyously sung. \n\nTill her accents were caught by each far distant tongue. \n\nWith eyes that ne\'er blink\'d at the sun\'s fiery blaze, \nShe cast a clear view o\'er the earth\'s distant regions. \n\nSaw millions in chains with a sorrowful gaze, \nAnd despots upheld by the force of their legions. \n\nThen sent forth her heralds of freedom and light. \n\nTo nations that long had been shrouded in night. \n\n\n\n16 AMERICAN MINSTREL. \n\n\n\nAnd Neptune then told her his empire was free, \n\nThat those who had shown so much love and devotion \n\nFor the rights of their country, should traverse the sea, \nAnd spread their white sails undisturb\'d o\'er the ocean ; \n\nWith each friendly nation an intercourse keep, \n\nAnd commerce pass free as the winds o\'er the deep. \n\nOur stars and our stripes which float o\'er the blue main, \nBy sea-faring subjects of kings are respected; \n\nOur charters of freedom we proudly maintain. \nAre borne round the world and in triumph protected. \n\nAnd people afar by their tyrants oppress\'d, \n\nBehold in our land an asylum of rest. \n\nWith voices united we swear to defend \n\nOur country and homes from all hostile invasions, \n\nAnd ne\'er to the dictates of tyranny bend ; \nWhile the firmament shines with its bright constel- \nlations, \n\nNo king but the one in the Heavens above, \n\nShall gain our alleg\'ance of homage and love. \n\n\n\nAMERICAN MINSTREL. 17 \n\n\n\nTHE PRIDE OF NEPTUNE. \n\nWhen our sea-faring subjects abused and impresst, \nBy Britain whose ships held a merciless reign, \nThe Genius of Liberty rose from the west, \nAnd sent forth her murmurs o\'er Neptune\'s domain, \n\nThe ocean\'s old ruler with absolute sway, \nAscended with pride in his wave-beaten car, \nFrom his throne in the deep to the regions of day. \nAnd said that our only redress was in war. \n\nColumbia then thought of entreaties no more. \nBut call\'d on her children to fight and be free ; \nHer language of vengeance the hurricanes bore, \nAnd battles commenced on the land and the sea. \n\nThrough Heaven\'s clear azure the lightnings were \n\nhurl\'d, \nAnd thunders resounded o\'er ocean\'s wild waves ; \nTill the echoes were lost in the noise of the world, \nAnd thousands sunk down in their crystaline graves. \n\nAs Neptune beheld the young Hercules rise, \nThus breathing destruction with desperate ire \nOn his trident our banners he bore through the skies. \nThe Britons were rent by the tempests of fire, \n\nB \n\n\n\nAMERICAN MINSTREL. \n\n\n\nIn peace we now sing to the praises of those, \nWho honours received from the god of the sea ; \nWho valiantly humbled the pride of their foes, \nWith thunders proclaiming " they\'d die or be free." \n\nThat commerce and freedom may travel the deep. \nThat our means of resistance may ever increase. \nIn a firm and defensive position we\'ll keep ; \nOur prowess for war be our guardian of peace. \n\n\n\nNATIONAL PROSPERITY. \n\nFrom a world of woods and wilds, \nDark beneath the western skies ; \nWorks of arts display their smiles, \nCities, towns, and hamlets rise. \n\nFrom a wilderness of shade, \nCultivated fields appear ; \nIn delightful charms array \'d, \nCheering every cottage near. \n\nAgriculture clothes the ground, \nWith luxuriant attire ; \nScatters wealth and plenty round, \n-Makes the landscape bright and fair. \n\n\n\nAMERICAN MINSTREL. 19 \n\n\n\nCommerce rolls in ev\'ry breeze, \nSpreading joy and gladness round ; \nFreighted vessels grace the seas, \nMarts with busy throngs abound. \n\nArts extend their blissful aid, \nWhere the mansions proudly rise ; \nSplendid structures lately made. \nLift their turrets to the skies. \n\nScience beams with light sublime. \nSpreads its lustre round the land ; \nCheering all our happy clime, \nBy its kaid protecting hand. \n\nIn the regions dark with shade, \nHaunts of Indians wild and rude, \nThere in nature\'s garb array\'d. \nLie the lands of solitude. \n\nThere shall future vineyards grow. \nThere shall futijre hamlets rise ; \nOrchards grace the mountain\'s brow. \nBreathe their fragrance to the skies. \n\nMillions from ascending day, \nJourneying towards the setting sun ; \nIn Columbia\'s bosom gay, \nFind a happy peaceful home. \n\n\n\n20 \n\n\n\nAMERICAN MINSTREL. \n\n\n\nHere may Freedom\'s Temple stand. \nSpreading light and truth sublime, \nCheer the earth\'s remotest land, \nBrighten ev\'ry distant clime. \n\nWhile the nations of the earth, \nMarshal\'d by despotic ire ; \nFull of foul, malicious wrath, \nClothe their land with blood and fire ; \n\n\n\nHere may Peace with olive wand, \nCheer the lab\'rer at his toil ; \nAs he views his native land, \nAs he tills his native soil. \n\n\n\nHere may union, peace and love, \nFill the measure of our bliss; \nAnd the God who rules above. \nDeign to guard our happiness. \n\n\n\nAMERICAN MIIV!5T1?i;l. 2]| \n\n\n\nAMERICAN RESOURCES. \n\nFrom the region of chaos the Almighty\'s hand, \n\nHas given a spherical form to the earth, \n\nAnd divided the globe into water and land, \n\nThat each should give myriads of beings their birth ; \n\nAnd all that inhabit the ocean\'s dark flood, \n\nOr traverse the plains show the goodness of God. \n\nThe most needful treasures that chaos contain\'d, \nAnd things that should recompense man for his toil ; \nIn forming this continent Deity gain\'d, \nAnd planted the choicest beneath our own soil ; \nO\'er which the last empire of freedom has risen, \nMuch envied by nations and favour\'d by Heaven. \n\nThen let us look well to our own native land, \nWith national pride all its treasures explore. \nLet us till the earth\'s surface with industry\'s hand, \nAnd raise from its bosom the fossils and ore. \nThat wealth on our rivers abundantly roll. \nFrom mountains of iron and the regions of coal. \n\nLet us form our utensils and mould our own ware, \nFrom things tliat our country affords us alone. \nAnd nations who dwell in the countries afar. \nTo science and civilization unknown ; \nAnd those more enlightened where palaces tow\'r. \nWill view with surprise our republican pow\'r. \n\nB 2 \n\n\n\nAitfJEKlCAN MINSTREL. \n\n\n\nFrom the galaxy\'s glow in the regions above, \nWhere Heaven\'s pavilions replendently shine ; \nIn language of kindness, affection and love, \nWith voices celestial, and accents divine, \nMid seraphs and angels immortal and wise, \nOur heroes departed, thus speak from the skies : \n\n" Ye sons of Columbia who love your own soil, \nAnd culture the fields where your ancestors bled. \nNe\'er give to oppression the fruits of your toil, \nNor let your resources lie dormant and dead: \nImprove all the bounties bestow\'d on your land, \nIs Deity\'s will and is Heaven\'s command." \n\n\n\nAMERICAN MINSTREL. 23 \n\n\n\nTO THE SUN. \n\nHail source of day I stupend\'ous world of light ! \n. Celestial splendour streaming from thy face, \nMakes each revolving orb shine fair and bright, \nThat flies around thee through unbounded space. \n\nBefore thy rays the shades of night are driv\'n, \nAnd dusky veils roll from the circling sky ; \n\nThy beams illume the v^^ide expanse of heav\'n, \nAnd tinge the clouds with ev\'ry brilliant dye. \n\nThy genial warmth enlivens ev\'ry vale, \n\nAnd gives the flowers, and vegetation birth ; \n\nCheers every insect floating on the gale, \nAnd ev\'ry creature animate on earth. \n\nFountain of light ! to thee unnumbered lays, \nAscend from joyous warblers of the grove ; \n\nWhile nature\'s children speak aloud thy praise \nIn morning songs of wonder, joy, and love. \n\nWhere thy broad disk a twinkling gem appears. \nMysterious works the hand of God has wrought ; \n\nComets and suns, and circuravolving spheres. \nExist beyond the reach of human thought. \n\n\n\n24 AMERICAN MIISSTHEL. \n\n\n\nTO THE MOON. \n\nThou goddess of evening, and daughter of day, \nNow cheering the world with thy light; \n\nAs through thy pale glimmers I pensively stray, \nI feast on the beauties of night. \n\nThe sunbeams are gently withdrawn from the sky, \nThe gales are now charmM to repose ; \n\nUp to thy fair visage I breathe a soft sigh, \nTo thee let me cast all my woes. \n\nHow lovely and lonely the landscapes appear ; \n\nHow glitt\'ring thy glow on the sea ; \nThis silver-faced night how delightfully clear, \n\nThy lustre how tranquil and free. \n\nThou friend of my solitude, soft and serene, \nThy beams that now brighten the waves, \n\nPass through the clear tide with a tremulous gleam, \nAnd shine round the sea-monsters\' caves. \n\nWhile millions repose in the cradle of night, \n\nCaress\'d in old Morpheus\'s arms ; \nTill beams of Aurora shall banish thy light, \n\nI\'ll muse on thy faint glowing charms \n\n\n\nAMERICAN MINSTREL. 25 \n\n\n\nTHE SOLAR SYSTEM. \n\nThe Sun, the bright stupendous orb of day. \n\nUpon his axis turns, enthron\'d in light ; \n\nRound which the worlds of diff \'rent orders move. \n\nAnd bear the solar radiance through the skies. \n\nMercury is first to catch the blaze of day, \n\nAnd hasten round its transitory year. \n\nVenus or Vesper next its course pursues \n\nAround the world of light : \xe2\x80\x94 an evening star, \n\nTo us, for half a year; the other half. \n\nIt shines the brilliant harbinger of day. \n\nEarth with its lunar orb, in order next, \n\nWith oceans, islands, continents and seas, \n\nA wider circuit makes around the Sun. \n\nMore distant still the brilliant Mars is seen. \n\nCoursing around through Heaven\'s ethereal waste. \n\nBeyond the orbit of the fiery Mars, \n\nFour younger worlds called Asteroids* shine, \n\nAnd with eccentric circuits make their years \n\nIn youthful gambols round the source of day. \n\nWith belted disk, and four attendant moons. \n\nGreat Jupiter, more distant, still pursues \n\nA wider circle through the vast expanse. \n\n* The small planets, Ceres, Pallas, Juno, and Vesta \nhave only been observed by modern astronomers. \n\n\n\n26 AMERICAN MINSTREL. \n\n\n\nSaturn still more remote, with seven moons, \n\nAnd atmospheric belt, or zone revolves, \n\nSlow and majestic through creation\'s void. \n\nFarthest of all, and near the utmost bourn \n\nOf the vast system, Herschel glides around \n\nWith six attendant satellites. Though great \n\nIn magnitude, he moves unseen by man, \n\nUnless by means of telescopic gaze. \n\nOther vasBt bodies, with majestic flight, \n\nTrailing their splendour through the heavenly fields. \n\nExcite the wonder of the gazing world. \n\nThese are the comets ; \xe2\x80\x94 flying round the Sun ; \n\nThen sailing through immensity of space. \n\nWith what precision move the heavenly spheres ; \n\nHow grand and wonderful the vast machine, \n\nThat acts obedient to the Eternal will : \n\nBut greater far that Being who can form, \n\nResplendent suns, and their attendant orbs. \n\n\n\nAMERICAN MINSTREL. 27 \n\n\n\nAN ODE \n\nIN COMMEMORATION OF THE ANNIVERSARY OF THE \nAMERICAN INDEPENDENCE. \n\nYe sons of Freedom now arise, \n\nAnd celebrate once more, \nThe day, when echoes fill\'d the skies, \n\nFrom our triumphant shore. \n\nWith starry banners now unfurl\'d \n\nO\'er ocean, land, and sea ; \nIn thunders, let us tell the world \n\nThe day that made us free. \n\nHail happy day ! when Freemen rose, \n\nAnd broke oppression\'s band ; \nAnd spread dismay amongst their foes, \n\nAnd blest a smiling land. \n\nLet tears of grateful joy be shed. \n\nAmidst our social glee ; \nFor many a thousand hearts have bled. \n\nThat we might all be free. \n\nFor Independence, human blood \n\nAnd carnage clothed the ground ; \nTill in the Revolution\'s flood, - \n\nThe sacred boon was found. \n\n\n\n28 AMERICAJN MINSTREL. \n\n\n\nAnd may we guard the prize secure, \n\nOur fathers died to gain ; \nAnd Freedom\'s temple, bright and pure, \n\nEternally remain. \n\nMay peace and Independence glow. \nAnd cheer each smiling morn ; \n\nTheir blessings unobstructed flow, \nTo millions yet unborn. \n\nFrom Maine to Mississippi\'s clime, \n\nOnce but a lonely waste, \nSee fruitful fields and hamlets shine, \n\nWith flowing plenty blest. \n\nThus from a lonely world of shade. \n\nHave splendid cities risen ; \nThe land in fairest charms array\'d, \n\nBlest with the smiles of Heaven. \n\nAs long as seas or rivers flow, \nMay peace and plenty reign ; \n\nRemote from Europe\'s want and wo. \nBeyond the Atlantic main. \n\nShould hostile armies ever try \nTo gain our peaceful shore, \n\nLet millions rise, resolved to die \nOr guard their rights secure. \n\n\n\nAMERICA?^ MINSTREL. 29 \n\n\n\nTHE TRIUMPHS OF PATRIOTISM. \n\nE\'er since the day, when heav\'n, and earth, and sea \n\nProclaim\'d aloud " America is free," \n\nDespots and kings have view\'d with jealous eyes, \n\nHer pow\'r extending and her glory rise. \n\nBut of her warlike deeds in days of yore, \n\nWhen death\'s pale spectres rode her thunder\'s roar; \n\nWhen o\'er the land the Revolution\'s flood \n\nProfusely flow\'d, with carnage, tears, and blood, \n\nI fail to sing. For scenes of later days \n\nInvite my Muse and animate my lays. \n\nBritannia long had kept the world in awe. \nAnd pow\'r alone gave to her outrage law ; \nShe heap\'d indignities with wanton hand \nUpon the natives of the western land : \nTill violated rights, which long forbore \nFrom hostile deeds, sought for redress in war. \nThen rose the genius of the Western world, \nAnd from her battlements her thunders hurl\'d ; \nAnd Mars descending from his fiery throne. \nBeheld the strife and made the cause his own. \nThen round the land the fiery meteors flash, \nFlame combats flame, and swords and sabres clash \n\nc \n\n\n\n30 AMERICAN MINSTREL. \n\n\n\nAvenging- wrath inspires the warring bands. \nTo scatter death with desperation\'s hands. \n\nTempestuous war with clangor wild and rude, \n\nAwakes the Indians from their solitude. \n\nThe savage tribes, rous\'d from the western wilds \n\nBy British presents and by British smiles. \n\nBound forth in fury from each dark abode. \n\nTo surfeit their desires in human blood. \n\nFrom lake to lake, through regions wild and drear, \n\nThe war-hoop sounds : the savage hosts appear \n\nWith instruments of death from British lands, \n\nBy Britons forg\'d, by them put in their hands ; \n\nThey sally forth ; kindle the torturing fire, \n\nWhere fathers, mothers, children, all expire. \n\nThe hardy peasants leave their fond abodes, \n\nAnd march impatient for the western woods. \n\nTo where the sources of the Wabash rise. \n\nAnd savage foe in every thicket lies. \n\nThere lulPd to rest, but on their arms reclin\'d. \n\nWhile dreams of carnage fillM the soldier\'s mind; \n\nBut rous\'d by savage yells in great surprise. \n\nThey snatch their arms, and in a moment rise, \n\nBeneath the trees the whizzing bullets fly, \n\nAnd lurid fires flash lustre to the sky ; \n\nThe savage hearts the pointed bayonets feel, \n\nAnd gushing blood pursues the deadly steel; \n\nAnd fly the tomahawks athwart the plains, \n\nCov\'ring the ground with human blood and brains. \n\n\n\nAMERICAN MINSTREL. 31 \n\n\n\nAs terror through th\' savage host is spread. \nThey bear away their dying and their dead ; \nAnd Harrison\'s brave men at early dawn, \nFind that Tecuraseh\'s forces are withdrawn. \n\nFrom tranquil homes impatient legions rise. \n\nAnd groves of muskets glitter to the skies ; \n\nCeres to Mars, her choicest treasure yields, \n\nAnd spreading tents adorn the vacant fields^ \n\nTo northern lands Bellona rolls her car, \n\nAnd blows around the fiery flames of war. \n\nAs gath\'ring clouds portend a dreadful storm, \n\nBrigades and reg\'ments, and battalions form ; \n\nRevenge inspires Columbia\'s warring trains, \n\nTo scour the woods and sweep Canadian plains. \n\nBut like the waves by shifting breezes borne. \n\nSquadrons arrive, advance, assail, return. \n\nFew laurels won, or victories to claim. \n\nOr deed perform\'d to signalize a name : \n\nHull yields his forces to the captive yoke. \n\nAnd all his boastings vanish into smoke. \n\nBut on the page of infamy his name, \n\nWill live in immortality of shame. \n\nProud chiefs return to tell when danger\'s nigh, \n\nThey in their tents could drink their goblets dry. \n\nThough they from Mars no war-worn trophies bear. \n\nYet they with Bacchus, other glories share. \n\n\n\n32 AMERICAN MINSTREL. \n\n\n\nAs angry waves in quick succession rise, \nSucceeding troops each vacancy supplies; \nSquadrons advance to regions wrapt in snows, \nTo wreak just vengeance on their northern foes. \nWhere spreading lakes the liquid hills display, \nAnd the St. Lawrence bears the floods away \xe2\x80\x94 \nWhere o\'er the rocks united torrents flow, \nAnd fall tremendous in the gulf below ; \nLike the vast ocean of another world, \nAgainst the earth in awful grandeur hurl\'d \xe2\x80\x94 \nWhere circling shores are crowned with ancient trees, \nAnd sylvan isles adorn the inland seas; \nTo these grand scenes our warring bands repair, \nAmidst the dire calamities of war. \nImpatient squadrons, like a rushing flood, \nOur banners bear o\'er smoking fields of blood ; \nAnd Mars descends through smoke and fire to crown \nWith laurel wreaths, Scott, Harrison, and Brown. \n\nIn lone Chakago\'s dark umbrag\'ous bowers, \nMid drifting snows and sununer\'s transient flowers, \nThe bones of those the savages have slain. \nMoulder to dust or whiten on the plain. \nAs winds and waves in dread confusion roar, \nOn Queensto wn fall the thunderbolts of war; \nAscending clouds deform the circling skies, \nAnd streams of blood display the purple dyes. \nBut Raisin\'s banks hold out more scenes of woe, \nMid icy glades and heaps of drifted snow. \n\n\n\nAMERICAN MINSTREL. 33 \n\n\n\nThe purple streams that flow from human veins. \nCongeal to ice or melt the frozen plains. \nHard was the strife in that most awful day, \nWhen Jove his thunders hurled on Chippeway. \nWhen the dire conflict shook the crimson plain, \nAnd lightnings flew o\'er bleeding heaps of slain. \nThere will the peasant in his future toil, \nFind human bones comingled with the soil. \n\nThe brightest laurels from the hand of fame, \nOn Erie\'s bosom, Perry\'s heroes claim. \nThe breathing winds the awful thunders bore, \nAnd swelling surges wash\'d the circling shore ; \nAs in the deadly fight the fleets engaged. \nAnd in the work of death, the conflict raged. \nSuperior valour gain\'d a noble prize, \nA British squadron of superior size. \nO\'er Champlain\'s waters and o\'er Plattsburgh\'s shore, \nBritannia weeps ; for midst the battle\'s roar, \nHer prowess yielded and her heroes slain, \nWere sent to people Pluto\'s dark domain. \nFor there M\'Donough\'s warring soul set free, \nFrom her strong grasp another inland sea. \nMoraviantown beheld with dire alarms. \nValour and conquest beaming from our arms. \nAnd York has seen the British hosts retire. \nAnd valiant Pike triumphantly expire. \nThe fire that to a secret mine was given, \nStarted his body with his soul for Heaven, \n\nc 2 \n\n\n\n34 AMERICAN MINSTREL. \n\n\n\nBut disengaged, it fell on earth below, \nMidst mangled corses and dire scenes of woe. \nWhen savage hosts and Britain\'s martial trains, \nSounded the war whoop o\'er Sandusky\'s plains: \nThe youthful Croghan and his dauntless band, \nResolv\'d to die, or all their force withstand. \nLike the volcanoes of the hottest hell \nTheir fires were sent, the proud besiegers fell ! \nThose who surviv\'d with hasty steps withdrew, \nWhile o\'er their dead our starry banners flew. \n\n\n\nPART II. \n\nAlong our coast resounding thunders roar, \nWhile leaden tempests rage upon the shore ; \nColumbia\'s sons their faithful vigils keep, \nO\'er the vast empire of the rolling deep. \nOur valiant navy rides the liquid plain, \nOur eagle .soars o\'er Neptune\'s wide domain ; \nAnd passing breezes from the ocean bear \nTo ev\'ry land the echoing sounds of war. \nAs round the western isles the Guerriere sails ; \nWaving Britannia\'s banners to the gales ; \nHer boasting crew rejoic\'d to meet a foe. \nPrepare to fight nor dread impending wo. \nPanting for blood and filled with warlike ire, \nThey ope their batt\'ries and let loose their fire. \n\n\n\nAMERICAN MINSTREL. \n\n\n\nThe Constitution, eager to engage, \nManoeuvres round, but holds her lightning\'s rage, \nTill sure of execution, when she throws \nThe fiery torrents \'midst her haughty foes. \nConfounds the Britons ! shakes the welkin round. \nAnd the sea-monsters startle at the sound I \nSpreads death and carnage on the Guerriere\'s deck. \nCaptures her crew and sinks the shatter\'d wreck. \nHull breaks the charm I impregnable no more \n\nAre Britain\'s bulwarks, when our thunders roar. \nThe Macedonian next in naval pride. \nSurveys our coast, and ploughs the swelling tide. \nHer British crew with lofty hopes imprest, \nDefy the youthful navy of the west ; \nTill met by the United States, when lo ! \nThick clouds arise and fiery torrents flow. \nBut soon the Britons, somewhat fond of life, \nPull down their banner and conclude the strife. \nThen Neptune rises in his ancient car. \nAnd lifts his trident o\'er the scenes of war. \nAnd calls on all Columbia\'s sons to view \nThe conquest by Decatur and his crew. \n\nBainbridge another victory can claim, \nTo grace the rising monuments of fame ; \nFor as I stretch my view beyond the line. \nO\'er the wild waves his feats of glory shine, \n\n\n\n36 AM\xc2\xa3P\xc2\xbb1CA?J MIINSTREL. \n\n\n\nThe Java cruises round those sunny isles, \n\nWhere nature blooms and summer ever smiles : \n\nThe Constitution, every danger braves. \n\nLifts the white sails, and cuts the briny waves ; \n\nMeets with the Java, when they both prepare \n\nTo hurl the heavy thunderbolts of war. \n\nThe dire explosions echo to the clouds, \n\nAnd death\'s pale spectres haunt the Java\'s shrouds. \n\nTill spars and rigging, carried by the board. \n\nAnd her surviving crew securely moor\'d, \n\nWithin Columbia\'s most successful ship, \n\nThat gains a British freight in every trip. \n\nThe English Peacock, drest in plumes so fair. \n\nAttacks the Hornet ; when high in the air, \n\nHer feathers fly. She feels the deadly sting, \n\nAnd yields submissive with a broken wing. \n\nShe yields to one of far inferior size. \n\nThen in the deep she sinks, no more to rise. \n\nIjawrence in this proud victory displays \n\nHis naval skill, and gains his country\'s praise ; \n\nBut while the sea-born honours round him bloom, \n\nIn sanguinary strife he meets his doom. \n\nFor naught but death his spirit could subdue. \n\nAnd give his body to the Shannon\'s crew. \n\nThe British Boxer meets the Enterprize, \nWhen dire explosions shake the earth and skies : \nHigh in the Heavens, the clouds of smoke aspire, \nAnd cast a gloom o\'er mutual streams of fire. \n\n\n\nAMERICAN MINSTREL. 37 \n\n\n\nBrave Burrows falls in this most desperate fight ; \nHis spirit travels to the realms of light. \nBut Neptune from his coral bow-rs ascends, \nAnd as he comes the dreadful contest ends : \nHigh o\'er the deep he waves our stripes and stars, \nAnd gives the Boxer to Columbia\'s tars. \n\nSee Porter roam the ocean\'s wide domains, \n\nAnd with the Essex num\'rous prizes gains. \n\nHe makes our commerce travel safe and free, \n\nOn the fair bosom of the western sea. \n\nBut while in port, beneath the southern skies, \n\nTwo British ships, one of superior size, \n\nAttack the Essex, with delib\'rate aim, \n\nAnd lodge their balls midst bursting sheets of flame. \n\nBut nothing daunts the brave, heroic hand. \n\nWho pour their blood round Valparaiso\'s stand : \n\nThey keep the ship though wrapt in wreaths of fire, \n\nTill half the crew with bleeding wounds expire, \n\nBut when their guns dismounted cease to roar, \n\nRather than yield they swim and gain the shore. \n\nAgain the Constitution shows her pow\'r. \nAnd deals destruction at the midnight hour. \nThe conq\'ring club of Hercules she bears. \nWhile from her sides the vivid lightning glares ; \nHer fiery wrath she breathes at once, when, lo ! \nTwp ships of war are taken at a blow. \n\n\n\n38 AMERICAN MINSTREL. \n\n\n\nTheir gloomy fate Levant and Cyane rue, \nThen tamely yield to Stewart and his crew. \nThus may the Constitution of our land. \nOur charter\'d ark of safety ever stand, \nTriumphant in its grand, primeval forms, \nCurbing its foes and braving all the storms: \nTeaching mankind to guard, and proudly save. \nThose equal rights which God and nature gave, \n\nUnnumber\'d strifes upon the ocean rage, \nAnd foes to foes the deadly conflicts wage. \nWhile smokes above obscure the face of day. \nBelow the sharks are fighting for their prey. \nValour and skill, the nation proudly owns, \nIn Rodgers, Biddle, Warrington and Jones; \nChauncey and Morris, in their country\'s cause. \nWith Barney, Blakely, Reid \xe2\x80\x94 gain high applause. \nThe God who rules the wafry world appears \nDispensing glory to our privateers. \nOur humbled foe, their daring prowess feels. \nAnd British commerce to their courage yields. \nTidings of conquests which our heroes gain. \nAre borne on all the breezes from the main. \n\n\n\nAMERlCAlSi MINSTREL. 39 \n\n\n\nPART III. \n\nAs British squadrons round our havens ride, \nTheir flowing canvas darkens half the tide. \nUpon the Chesapeake\'s indented strand. \nBrigades and reg\'ments and battalions land ; \nThe proud phalanxes move o\'er hills and dales, \nWaving triumphant ensigns to the gales, \nTill check\'d by Barney\'s most unyielding crew. \nThey lose their men, but still their course pursue ; \nThey reach our infant Capital, when lo ! \nIn spacious halls the lawless torches glow. \nAnd soon the bursting flames to Heaven aspire, \nAnd all is bright from pyramids of fire. \nOur wearied troops struck with forboding awe. \nIn broken groups ingloriously withdraw. \nSoon as the public domes that tower\'d so high. \nIn shapeless heaps of drifting ashes lie, \nAnd clouds of cinders from our naval stores, \nHad settled on Potomac\'s winding shores, \nWith hurried steps the Britons move away, \nAnd reach their ships, impatient of delay. \nFor this and other deeds upon our land. \nThe god of war with lightning in his hand. \nFills ev\'ry heart with most avenging ire, \nAnd breathes around destruction, wratli and fire. \n\nThe British thunders next are heard to roar, \nAlong the sea-girt plains of Baltimore. \n\n\n\n40 AMERICAN MINSTREL. \n\n\n\nThe warring- ships upon Patapsco ride, \n\nTill streams of blood are mingled with the tide ; \n\nOn Fort M\'Henry all their vengeance falls, \n\nIn glaring rockets, bombs, and pond\'rous balls. \n\nBoth day and night the cannons shake the shores, \n\nBut the proud Britons only waste their stores; \n\nOur battlements display the wreaking fires. \n\nTill out of reach the hostile fleet retires. \n\nOur banners tell as high in air they wave, \n\nWhat Armstead and his thousand men can save. \n\nThey next pour forth their forces on the strand, \n\nResolv\'d to try their fate upon the land. \n\nAlong the plains they show their martial pow\'r, \n\nAnd move their well-train\'d forces from the shore. \n\nTheir burnished arms with gleaming lustre shine. \n\nAnd coats of red adorn the lengthen\'d line. \n\nColumbia\'s sons, unaw\'d by all their show. \n\nAdvance with ardour to oppose the foe. \n\nWhen lo ! at once the hottest fires are sent, \n\nThe circling skies with quick concussions rent, \n\nFrom equal strife the streams of blood is seen. \n\nGushing from wounds, encrimsoning the green. \n\nUntil a rifle from a beardless swain, \n\nLays their proud leader gasping on the plain. \n\nConfusion and dismay attend their loss. \n\nAs they bewail the hapless fate of Ross. \n\nThey leave the grouncNi-their choicest blood behind. \n\nAnd in their ships they peace and safety find. \n\n\n\nAMERICAN MINSTREL. 41 \n\n\n\nThrough future years a monument can tell, \nThe names of those who in the battle fell ; \nAnd passing throngs that tread our happy shore, \nBehold with pride this work of Baltimore. \n\nFrom wide domains of wilderness appear \n\nBarbarian hordes along our vast frontier ; \n\nThe shrieks of innocence to Heav\'n ascend. \n\nAnd dying groans with savage war-whoops blend ; \n\nMatrons and maids, behold in wild despair, \n\nThe tort\'ring fires diffuse an awful glare. \n\nThe infant murder\'d on its mother\'s breast. \n\nIs seen amidst the horrors of the west ; \n\nFerocious tribes spread death and carnage round \n\nAnd nura\'rous scenes of massacre abound. \n\nBut Heaven\'s protecting hand at once inspires \n\nOur w^arring bands to quench in blood the fires ; \n\nTo snatch the hatchet rais\'d to give the blow, \n\nAnd wreak their vengeance on their cruel foe. \n\nJackson, the ruling spirit of the storms, \n\nIn southern wilds Herculean deeds performs ; \n\nFor wheresoe\'er he points his conq\'ring sword. \n\nCarnage and death pursue the savage horde ; \n\nThe slaughter\'d tribes an horrid scene display. \n\nAnd the wild beasts are surfeited with prey. \n\nAnd now the buried hatchet lies secure. \n\nThe brightened chain of friendship shall endure. \n\n\n\n42 AMERICAiS MINSTREL. \n\n\n\nBut oft our soldiers will relate with pride, \nHow Talladaga\'s plains in blood were dyed. \nOf the dread fight of Tallapoosa tell, \nWhere savage hosts of painted warriors fell; \nAnd the poor Indian oft in mournful sounds. \nRelate the slaughter of the Hickory grounds; \nAnd dwind\'ling tribes through future years deplore \nThe fate of war on Alabama\'s shore. \n\nA Spanish garrison our prowess feels, \nAnd Pensacola to old Hickory yields. \nAs o\'er the battlements our banners wave, \nThe choicest laurels recompense the brave. \nAscending clouds obscure the face of day, \nAs streams of fire are sent o\'er Mobile bay : \nOpposing thunders shake the earth and skies, \nAnd shouts of triumph from Fort Bowyer rise. \nThe Britons view their loss with sullen awe, \nAnd from the fight their shattered ships withdraw. \nThe Hermes burns \xe2\x80\x94 her magazine takes fire. \nAnd in one wild convulsion all expire. \n\nBritannia musters her gigantic pow\'r. \nAnd sends her fleets to Mississippi\'s shore, \nWhere her proud legions martial scenes display, \nAnd through the fenny woodlands force their way. \nExpecting spoils of conquest soon to gain, \nStretch their long columns over half the plain. \n\n\n\nAMERICAN MINSTREL. 43 \n\n\n\nColumbia\'s genius sees the tempest low\'r, \n\nAnd calls her children to the scenes of war. \n\nThey hear the call, impatient to obey, \n\nUnite in squadrons, and soon march away \n\nTo meet the foe with promptitude and zeal, \n\nWith show\'rs of lead, and points of glitt\'ring steel. \n\nJackson and Coffee, Carroll and Adar, \n\nLead on her forces to the scenes of war. \n\nWhile gloomy night her sable curtain throws. \n\nAnd hostile bands enjoy serene repose, \n\nUnaw\'d by danger, in their tents reclin\'d, \n\nFond dreams of plunder feast the soldier\'s mind; \n\nAt once the fiery bolts of war are hurl\'d \n\nAgainst the invaders of the western world. \n\nClangour and carnage mar the face of night, \n\nAnd all the welkin glows with rising light. \n\nWars dreadful engines o\'er the plains resound, \n\nUntil th\' astonish\'d Britons leave the ground \n\nTo half their number; but a dauntless crew. \n\nWith hearts of steel, firm, valiant, brave, and true. \n\nBefore Aurora spreads her early dawn. \n\nOur hardy band is cautiously withdrawn. \n\nEntrenchments then our heroes quickly form, \n\nAnd breastworks raise to meet th\' impending storm. \n\nAugmenting forces to their standards join. \nAnd give fresh strength to each extended line. \n\n\n\n44 AMERICAN MINSTREL. \n\n\n\nOn Orleans\' plains wars lighted torches blaze, \n\nAnd partial conflicts frequent thunders raise ; \n\nTill at the dawning of a fatal day, \n\nBritannia\'s forces tired of long delay, \n\nSend forth their fiery meteors through the air, \n\nAnd light the skies with most portentous glare. \n\nLike the dark clouds charg\'d with electric fire, \n\nTheir columns move with banners high in air ; \n\nAs they approach, war\'s dreadful engines roar, \n\nAnd streams of blood o\'erflow the trembling shore. \n\nTen thousand vivid flames the welkin warm, \n\nAnd clouds of smoke the face of Heav\'n deform; \n\nThe well pois\'d rifle, and the cannon\'s breath, \n\nSpread round destruction, carnage, wounds, and death. \n\nThe Britons fall by hundreds on the plain, \' \n\nAnd life\'s warm fluid flows from ev\'ry vein. \n\nTheir broken columns in disorder form, \n\nAnd strive to gain our battlements by storm. \n\nTheir leader feels the instrument of death, \n\nAnd in the awful strife resigns his breath. \n\nTheir hopes destroy \'d, dismay \'d they break and yield, \n\n"With heaps of slain, the blood-encrimson\'d field. \n\nAs in despair their wounded lion roars, \n\nFrom laurel groves Columbia\'s eagle soars, \n\n\n\nAMERICAN MINSTREL. 45 \n\n\n\nWaving in triumph o\'er the scenes of war, \nOur star-bespangled banners in the air. \nBut peace returns; war\'s thunders all expire, \nAnd British squadrons from our land retire ; \nLong to remember, and witji grief deplore. \nTheir laurels lost on Mississippi\'s shore. \n\n\n\nD 9 \n\n\n\n46 AMERICAN MINSTREL. \n\n\n\nODE TO PEACE. \n\nPeace, fair daughter of the skies, \nCome with olive wreaths unfurl\'d ! \nSpreading charms before our eyes; \nSmiling o\'er the western world ! \n\nThunders cease to rend the air; \nHostile banners wave no more : \nStar of Peace serene and fair, \nBeam upon Columbia\'s shore. \n\nBlood and carnage now may cease, \nSwords to scythes and sickles bend ; \nEvery heart be cheer\'d with Peace, \nPeace and plenty cheer the land. \n\nO\'er the waves shall commerce glide, \nTreasures float in ev\'ry gale ; \xe2\x80\x94 \nGrace the undulating tide, \nMake each humble cottage smile. \n\nLegions to their homes retire. \nFrom the fields o\'erspread with gore, \nCircling round the social fire. \nFeel the joys they felt before. \n\n\n\nAMERICAN MINSTREL. 47 \n\n\n\nLet triumphal arches rise, \nRich in wreaths of wintry flo w\'rs ; \nLike the rainbow in the skies, \nShining \'midst departing show\'rs. \n\nMothers, daughters, sons, and sires, \nLet your joyous voices rise! \nHe who guides the rolling spheres \nSends us Peace below the skies ! \n\n\n\n48 AMERICAN MINSTREL. \n\n\n\nSPRING. \n\n\n\nAs surly Winter hides his cheerless brow, \nAnd lifts his snowy mantle from the gronnd. \nGay Spring retiirns with animating glow, \nTo cheer the land and scatter smiles around. \n\nThe Sun, the source and parent of the day, \nTo other climes has lent his fost\'ring pow\'r; \nBut now returns to wake the morning lay. \nTo swell the buds, and open ev\'ry flow\'r. \n\nNow as the fields are cloth\'d in lively green, \nOn ev\'ry side botanic charms abound ; \nUnnumbered hues appear in every scene \nWhere Flora spreads her gaudy treasures round. \n\nWhere festive throngs in rural bliss regale, \nThe blossoms lend their fragrance to the breeze. \nAnd breathing zephyrs in each balmy gale, \nDiffuse sweet odours from the blooming trees. \n\n\n\nAMERICAN MINSTREL. 49 \n\n\n\nBut those gay scenes and landscapes now sublime, \nWill soon forbear to spread their smiling bloom ; \nFor Spring rolls swiftly on the car of time, \nAnd soon will change to Summer\'s sultry noon. \n\nAnd thus, like Spring, will youthful scenes retire, \nAnd years revolving shrouded oft in gloom, \nRoll on, till drooping age, oppressed with care \nSinks to repose beneath the peaceful tomb. \n\n\n\n50 AMERICAN MINSTREL. \n\n\n\nSUMMER. \n\n\n\nThe smiles of Spring have glided from our view, \nAnd Summer comes, with welcome treasures stored; \nFor which, to Nature\'s God our thanks are due, \nFor all the bounties that his hands afford. \n\nThe waving harvest crowns the sultry plain. \nAnd ripening fruits in varied forms are seen; \nWhile social mirth attends the rural train. \nNow toiling in the meadows fresh and green. \n\nIn Summer months what lively scenes arise ; \nThe blissful shades of wild, romantic bowers, \nTh\' electric fluid flashing through the skies. \nThe tepid gales, and cool refreshing showers. \n\nNow as the sun sinks slowly in the west, \nWhat fond delight to view his visage fair; \nWhile breathing zephrys fan the world to rest. \nAnd clouds of insects sport upon the air. \n\n\n\nAMERICAN MINSTREL. 51 \n\n\n\nOr when Aurora throws around her smiles, \nWhat brilliant scenes the landscapes hold to view; \nResplendent beams adorn night\'s dusky veils, \nAnd ev\'ry leaf is tipt with gems of dew. \n\nBut Summer\'s charms must quickly glide away, \nAnd be succeeded by autumnal gloom ; \nSo time\'s corroding hand will soon display, \nA darker visage o\'er life\'s fairest bloom. \n\n\n\n52 AMERICAN MINSTREL. \n\n\n\nAUTUMN. \n\n\n\nNow Autumn like a harbinger of woe, \nTreads rudely on the summer\'s ling\'ring smiles ; \nNow robs the landscapes of the brightest glow, \nAnd Flora\'s charms with careless hand despoils. \n\nHere as I loiter in the lonely glades, \nUnnumber\'d objects strike my wand\'ring view; \nThe leaves that form\'d the summer\'s cooling shades, \nFall to the ground, and wear a sable hue. \n\nAs on a willowy bank, where waters flow, \nI listen to the insects\' feeble moan ; \nThe river\'s brink seems drest in weeds of woe. \nAnd drooping plants say winter must return. \n\nWhere meadows smil\'d in summer days so fair, \nAnd blossoms deck\'d the rich and verdant plain. \nNow chilling frost flies through the evening air, \nAnd no sweet flow\'rets on their stalks remain. \n\n\n\nAMERICAN MINSTREL. 53 \n\n\n\nBut autumn wears its own peculiar charms, \nFor choicest fruits from earth\'s productive soils ; \nAre l\\eld in nature\'s ever bount\'ous arms, \nTo pay the husbandman for all his toils. \n\nBut soon the autumnal gales will cease to blow, \nAnd sullen winter with his frowns appear ; \nTo shake the ice and snow from off his brow, \nAnd breathe his vengeance on the changing year. \n\n\n\n64 AMERICAN MINSTREL. \n\n\n\nWINTER. \n\n\n\nAs surly winter with relentless frown, \nO\'er northern land his icy sceptre sways; \nHe throws his snowy mantle o\'er the ground, \nAnd gives us lengthen\'d nights and shorten\'d days. \n\nThe landscapes which in summer smil\'d so fair, \nRich in the leafy bow\'rs, and fields of green ; \nPresent an aspect cheerless, cold and drear, \nWith frost and snow comingled with the scene. \n\nWhere oft I sought the muse-inspiring shade, \nAnd heard the birds\' wild animating strains, \nNow murm\'ring rills, beneath the icy glades, \nIn mournful accents glide along the plains. \n\nYet there are scenes in nature truly grand, \nWhen drifting snows and northern lights appear. \nPresented to us by supreme command. \nTo give new beauties to the changing year. \n\n\n\nAMERICAN MINSTREL. 55 \n\n\n\nWhen winter breathes his frosty breath around, \nAnd seems to rule with most vindictive ire, \nHow blest are those with peace and plenty crown\'d. \nWho spend their evenings round the social fire. \n\nBut ah ! how many linger out their days \n\nIn pale dejection, misery, and woe ; \n\nIn winter\'s cold they feel no cheering rays, \n\nFrom a kind home \xe2\x80\x94 from love or friendship flow. \n\n\n\n56 AMERICAN MINSTREL. \n\n\n\nA SOCIAL EVENING. \n\n\n\nAs winds of drear winter relentlessly ride, \nO\'er hills and o\'er valleys, deep mantled in snow, \nLet us draw up our chairs to the warm fireside, \nAnd mirth be the magical mistress of woe. \n\nLet us drown all our cares in a flow of delight, \nAnd carefully shun the intrusions of sorrow ; \nThat life may expand with the joys of to-night. \nAnd the joys of to-night cheer the face of to-morrow. \n\nThe ice and the snow that now covers the ground. \nWill soon melt away in the glow of the spring ; \nThe spring spreads a smile of enchantment around. \nAnd birds in the branches melodiously sing. \n\n\n\nBut man with the seasons will never regain, \nThe spring-tide of life full of juvenile joys ; \nFor life is a vapour not long to remain. \nWhich lethargy darkens and often destroys. \n\n\n\nAMERICAN MINSTREL. 57 \n\n\n\nThen let us be cheerful and drive away care, \nFor friendship, affection, and love all combin\'d. \nCan lend a soft smile to the face of despair, \nAnd sweeten a lively repast of the mind. \n\nWhile kings and proud despots with ambitious sway. \nEnkindle the torches and tumults of war; \nAnd marshal their millions in battle\'s array. \nTo overwhelm regions with carnage and fire. \n\nWe\'ll lift our light sails o\'er an ocean of woes, \nNor envy the sceptres by monarchs possess\'d ; \nAs we catch ev\'ry breeze of enjoyment that blows, \nTo waft us in peace to the haven of rest. \n\n\n\nE ^ \n\n\n\n58 AMERICAN MINSTREL. \n\n\n\nDEPARTED DAYS. \n\n\n\nWhen joys of my heart are encumber\'d with care, \n\nI think of the days of ray youth; \nWhen vision-built castles erected on air, \n\nBore charms of enchantment and truth. \n\n\n\nSweet anticipation portray \'d to my view, \n\nEnjoyments unmingled with woe; \nAnd juvenile pleasures successively flew, \n\nEnliven\'d with life\'s early glow. \n\nThen tranquil and sweet were my slumbers of night, \n\nNo thorns to occasion a sigh ; \nMy day dreams of future enjoyment were bright. \n\nAs morning that crimsons the sky. \n\nBut hope\'s dear delusion soon vanish\'d away, \n\nSoon ceased to enrapture my mind ; \nAnd youth\'s glowing season, romantic and gay, \n\nLeft care and vexation behind. \n\n\n\nAMERICAN MINSTREL. 59 \n\n\n\nThe joys and delusions of youth are now o\'er, \nThose visions and phantoms are fled : \n\nMy first and best friends can delight me no more, \nAnd hope\'s blissful charms are half dead. \n\nBut alas ! it is folly to grieve or complain, \nFor days that no more we shall see. \n\nThen let the light smile of indiff\'rence remain, \nAnd the heart beat with rapture and glee. \n\n\n\n60 AMERICAN MINSTREL. \n\n\n\nTHE JUBILEE. \n\n\n\nCome circle round the social board, \n\nAnd let your goblets shine ; \nWe\'ll sing the days when cannons roar\'d, \n\nAnd pass the flowing wine. \n\nNow fifty years have roll\'d away. \nSince Heav\'n and earth and sea, \n\nBore witness to that happy day, \nThat made our country free. \n\nWhen armies in ferocious ire, \n\nFill\'d all our land with woe; \nOur fathers rush\'d through blood and fire, \n\nUpon th\' invading foe. \n\nThey met the tyrants in the field, \nAnd laid them on the ground : \n\nThey made Britannia\'s forces yield. \nAnd brought their spirits down. \n\n\n\nAMERICAN MINSTREL. 6 1 \n\n\n\nThey scorn\'d to murmur, or complain \n\nOf bleeding wounds and scars ; \nWhile bearing o\'er the heaps of slain, \n\nColumbia\'s stripes and stars. \n\nUnited let us proudly stand, \n\nUntil our nation be \nThe queen of science on the land, \n\nAnd mistress of the sea. \n\nMay Heav\'n its blessings ever shed, \n\nUpon our favour\'d shore ; \nAnd war the purple torrents spread \n\nAlong our plains no more. \n\nBut should our country ever need \n\nHer sons to fight again ; \nTen hundred thousand hearts would bleed \n\nOr all their rights maintain. \n\nNow since we\'re blest with Freedom\'s cheer. \n\nLet songs and anthems x\'ise. \nLet louder cannons shake the sphere, \n\nAnd eclioes rend the skies. \n\nAnd as our bosoms proudly thrill. \nWith friendship, joy, and glee ; \n\nLet all of us our glasses fill, \nAnd haU the Jubilee, \n\n\n\n62 AMEEICAN MINSTREL. \n\n\n\nELEGY \n\nON THE DEATH OF THOMAS JEFFERaON. \n\n\n\nAs Jove was list\'ning from his beaming throne, \nTo hear a nation hail a Jubilee ; \nFrom earth he call\'d Columbia\'s favourite son, \nTo leave a people permanently free. \n\nMinerva sent her vehicle of light, \nTo bear his spirit to the realms of day; \nWhere scenes of glory shine forever bright, \nMid souls enfranchis\'d from the mortal clay. \n\nAnthems responsive to the strains below. \nSounded the name of Jefferson above ; \nFor blissful throngs were anxious to bestow \nOn him, the tokens of celestial love. \n\nIllustrious man ! we see thee here no more. \nYet lasting honors will attend thy name; \nOur countrymen will bear from shore to shore \nThe proud memorials of thy deathless fame. \n\n\n\nA3IERICAN MINSTREL. 6S \n\n\n\nAnd as they travel o\'er the ocean\'s waves, \nOr bear our banners on a distant sea; \xe2\x80\x94 \nWill boldly tell to tyrants and to slaves. \nThat God creates all human beings free. \n\nIn those dark days that tried the hearts of men. \nThy words of truth were echoed to the sky; \nAs millions gained instruction from thy pen, \nThey swore to live as freemen or to die. \n\nA quick reverse from joy\'s enliv\'ning glow, \n\nTo scenes where pensive sadness spreads a gloom ; \n\nWe see the dark habiliments of woe, \n\nAnd hear the plaintive dirges of the tomb ; \n\nAs tears of sorrow in profusion rise. \nAnd shine like dew drops on the drooping flow\'rs ; \nYet balmy zephyrs, breathe your mournful sighs. \nAnd whisper grief through Monticello\'s bow\'rs. \n\n\n\n64 AMERICAN MINSTREL. \n\n\n\nSUNRISE AT SEA. \n\n\n\nThe ruler of day spreads a charm o\'er the sea, \nThe stars that bespangl\'d the curtains of night, \nIn morning\'s fair dawn are now fading away, \nAnd the concave above is replenish\'d with light. \n\nThe crystaline waves of the liquid expanse, \nReflect the pure gold of Aurora\'s first gleam. \nAmidst the light breezes they carelessly dance. \nAnd earth vies with heaven to brighten the scene. \n\nLet grateful emotions of piety rise. \nTowards the great bountiful Parent of gbod, \nAs we view yonder orb in the orient skies, \nDiffusing its beams on the tremulous flood. \n\nHow oft does the sea-beaten mariner\'s soul \nFeel cheer \'d at thy presence bright god of the morn, \nWhen he on a wreck by a tempest\'s control. \nO\'er mountains and valleys of water is born. \n\n\n\nAMERICAN MINSTREL. 65 \n\n\n\nGENERAL LA FAYETTE. \n\n\n\nWhen gloomy clouds hung o\'er the western world, \nAnd fields were smoking with our father\'s blood ; \nThen as the hostile banners were unfurl\'d \nThroughout our land war roll\'d its crimson flood. \n\nIn those dark days of carnage, tears and woes, \nKind Heav\'n inspir\'d Fayette our present guest, \nTo come and fight our country\'s haughty foes. \nAnd aid a struggling nation in the west. \n\nUnaw\'d by danger, or despotic laws, \nFor us he made the Gallic thunders roar; \nHe drew his sword in Freedom\'s sacred cause. \nAnd shed his gen\'rous blood upon our shore. \n\nThough absent leng from his adopted land, \nHe comes mid acclamations sounding high ; \' \nHe comes; and millions hail Columbia\'s friend, \nAnd greatful tears are seen in ev\'ry eye. \n\nF \n\n\n\n66 AMERICAN MINSTREL. \n\n\n\nSOUTH AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE. \n\n\n\nThe contest for freedom has ended at last, \n\nAnd milhons proclaim that the struggle is o\'er; \nThe dark days of horror and carnage have past, \nAnd glory succeeds the destructions of war. \nThe battle\'s loud roar, \nNo longer is heard, \nAnd tyranny\'s power \nNo longer is fear\'d. \nThe engines of war may in peace now repose. \nFor valour has triumph\'d o\'er liberty\'s foes. \n\nThe plains of Caraccas, the Andean heights, \n\nThe regions of Chili, andshoresof Peru, \nSound praise to the heroes, who fought for their rights. \nAnd show\'d what devotion to country could do. \n\nGreat Bolivar\'s name \n\nWith others shall shine. \n\nOn tablets of fame \n\nUnsullied by time : \nAnd millions be blest by the deeds of their sires. \nAs reason o\'er dark superstition aspires. \n\n\n\nAMERICAN MINSTREL. 67 \n\n\n\nLa Plata\'s smooth surface, uncoloured with blood, \n\nThrough plains of rich verdure shall peacefully wind, \nAnd Amazon rolling- an ocean-like flood, \n\nDisplay on its bosom the wealth of mankind. \n\nFrom forests now drear, \n\nWhere monsters abound, \n\nShall cities appear; \n\nAnd music\'s soft sound \nBe heard from the mansions, when people are gay. \nInstead of the bowlings of wild beasts of prey. \n\nMay science and civilization diffuse \n\nTheir light like god of the Inca around ; \nAnd man speak his mind, as he joyously views \nThe trammels of bigotry laid in the ground. \n\nMay knowledge expand, \n\nAnd virtue prevail \n\nThroughout all the land : \n\nAnd myriads hail \nThe bounties of freedom, that valour has giv\'n, \nAnd guard them secure as the pillars of heav\'n. \n\n\n\n68 AMERICAN MINSTREL. \n\n\n\nPENN\'S TREATY WITH THE INDIANS. \n\n\n\nWhen Europe\'s tyrants rui\'d the sons of men, \nAnd earth accursed with envy, strife and war ; \nA messenger of peace and good will, Penn, \nWas sent by Heaven to bless the western shore. \n\nDark wastes of woods a gloomy grandeur spread ; \nFew were the hamlets that display\'d their smiles, \nThe Indian tribes exciting fear and dread ; \nRoam\'d the proud heroes of their native wilds. \n\nBut nature\'s god so forms the human breast, \nThat kindness, truth and justice may impart, \nTheir charms to calm the passions down to rest ; \nAnd tame the most vindictive savage heart. \n\nThe place where Philadelphia proudly stands, \nCoaquannoc was call\'d in days of yore ; \nThere white and red men met as mutual friends; \nAnd held their converse on the river\'s shore. \n\n\n\nAMERICAN MINSTREL. 69 \n\n\n\nBeneath an elm that spread around its shade, \nAnd rais\'d aloft its giant arms in air ; \nAn honest treaty there in peace was made, \nTo last as long as sun and moon endure. \n\nNo sceptres, crowns, nor marks of princely sway \nNor formal oaths, nor ostentations glare ; \nThe Indian warriors laid their arms away, \nAnd only ask\'d for what was just and fair. \n\nThere axes, kettles, knives and woollen goods, \nWith other things were spread upon the ground : \nFor which the natives gave a world of woods, \nAnd held their contract sacred and profound. \n\nNo lurking serpent as in Eden\'s grove, \nEnrich\'d with earth\'s primeval fruits and flowers. \nCould make illwill usurp the place of love. \nNor blast the joys of Shackamaxon\'s bowers.* \n\n\n\n* The spot now occupied by Kensington, which forms \nthe northern extremity of Philadelphia was called Shack- \namaxon b}\'^ the aborigines, separated from Coaquannoe, \nby the Cohocksink creek. Here Peun and the Indians \nmade their treaty. \n\nF 2 \n\n\n\n70 AMERICAN MINSTREL. \n\n\n\nBright prospects open\'d to the mind of Penn, \nHis vision pierc\'d the veil of future years; \nAnd what he saw through fancy\'s vista then. \nTo us in bright reahty appears. \n\n\n\nWhere trunks of trees in mould\'ring ruins lay, \nBeneath the branching walnut\'s bow\'rs of green; \nThe axe was heard, the forest clear\'d away, \nAnd houses, fields, and gardens soon were seen. \n\n\n\nA city next as Penn had wisely planned, \nOn Delav/are\'s reedy banks receiv\'d it* birth ; \nDestin\'d to be the glory of the land, \nUnrivaird by another one on earth. \n\n\n\nLong rows of mansions then began to rise. \nThe streets appeared in straight extended lines ; \nThe social fires sent smoke towards the skies. \nCurling o\'er tops, o\'er tops of sycamores and pines. \n\nCommerce began to move before the gales, \nThe freighted vessels grac\'d the rolling stream ; \nThe people saw with joy the passing sails. \nFor in these days they had not thoug-ht of steam. \n\n\n\nAMERICAN 3IINSTREL. 71 \n\n\n\nHere people throng\'d from lands and realms afar, \nOf different customs, languages and creeds ; \nWith Penn Britannia\'s children sought the shore. \nThough first were here the Germans, Fins and Swedes. \n\nNo ranting fools in Puritanic ire, \nSought the destruction of their fellow men; \nBelief and conscience left as free as air, \nTo all within the happy land of Penn. \n\nWith works of art now Pennsylania shines, \nBut nature still invites the hand of toil ; \nTo her fair plains, her mountains rich in mines. \nHer winding rivers and prolific soil. \n\n\n\n72 AMERICAN MI^STRKL. \n\n\n\nTHE NORTHERN CANAL. \n\n\n\nWRITTEN AT THR TIME OF ITS COMPLETION. \n\nLet Egypt and India exultingly boast, \nOf structures that million^\' have labour\'d to raise; \nAnd Rome with her temples now crumbhng to dust, \nDemand for past labours a tribute of praise. \n\nThe empires dissolved in the ocean of time, \nAnd those now where tyrants their subjects enthral, \nNever offered the world, with their projects sublime, \nA work that can vie with the Northern Canal. \n\nThis work has been finished ; the cannons"\' loud roar, \nFrom lakes to the sea spread the news of delight ; \nThe work has been finished, the labour is o\'er, \nAnd Erie\'\'s and Hudson\'s pure waters unite. \n\nThis work has been finish\'d old Neptune declares, \nAnd welcomes the produce from far in the west; \nWhich now his vast ocean triumphantly bears \nTo every clime on its tremulous breast. \n\n\n\nAMERICAN MINSTREL. 73 \n\n\n\nDiana\'s dark region of forest and shade, \n\nAre yielding to Ceres, Apollo, and Pan ; \n\nAnd where the wild beasts of the wilderness stray\'d, \n\nFair cities are forming for civiliz\'d man. \n\nThe fruits of industry shall yield to the gales, \nBeyond Lake Superior\'s furthermost isle ; \nAnd Huron and Erie be shadow\'d with sails, \nAnd hamlets and villages joyously smile. \n\nWhen earth\'s present people in quiet shall rest. \nOr mingle their ashes with those of their sires ; \nTheir children will culture the plains of the west. \nWhere tribes of rude Indians now kindle their fires. \n\nOh Clinton \'twas thine, mid the strife of thy foes, \nBy virtue directed and genius thy guide, \nTo rise o\'er the sordid ambition of those \nWho follow\'d the dictates of envy and pride. \n\nGenerations to come will be proud of thy name. \nWhen calumny dies with its factious cabal ; \nAnd millions will view as one mark of thy fame, \nThis channel of commerce the Northern Canal. \n\n\n\n74 AMERICAN MIXSTREL. \n\n\n\nAMERICAN VOLUNTEERS. \n\n\n\nSound the loud anthem with accents of glory, \n\nWinds waft to heaven the soul-cheering lay; \nClouds disappear, for the beams of Aurora, \n\nSmile forth again upon Freedom\'s birth-day. \nUnion of States like a bright constellation. \n\nRisen through carnage, commotion and tears; \nValour and virtue, our country\'s salvation, \nDwell in the hearts of our brave Volunteers. \nThey guard our happy land. \nThey equal rights defend, \nThejr lead the nation to glory and fame. \nThey wave the banners round, \nThey raise the martial sound, \nThey fill the land with a joyous acclaim. \n\n\n\nHail to the nation\'s triumphant defender, \nJackson we hail as the first in our choice ; \n\nHe made Britannia\'s proud forces surrender, \nHe made our camps and our councils rejoice. \n\n\n\nAMERICAIS MI.NSTREL. 75 \n\n\n\nLiberty\'s temple that heroes have founded, \nPride of the nation in splendour appears ; \nNoble the structure, by millions surrounded, \nGuarded secure by our brave Volunteers. \nShould dire oppression reign, \nThey\'ll break the galling chain, \nThey in defence of their birth-rights will rise. \nThey throw their bullets well, \nThey\'ll make their ballots tell. \nWhere solid worth and integrity lies, \n\n\n\nNations of earth are with envy beholding. \n\nFreedom\'s last empire, that lies in tlie west; \nAll our resources are daily unfolding. \n\nAll our wide regions abundantly blest. \nWhen first was kindled a. war\'s dire commotion; \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nCities in flames and our mothers in tears; \nLightnings were hurl\'d o\'er the land and the ocean. \nArmies subdued by the brave Volunteers. \nThey struck the fatal blow, \nThey laid the Britons low. \nOn fields their children now culture in peace. \nWhere a proline soil. \nYield the reward of toil, \nFairest of fruits and abundant increase. \n\n\n\n76 AMERICAN MINSTREL. \n\n\n\nHeroes departed from heaven\'s pavilions, \n\nLook on the land they have left with delight; \nHere an asylum is oiFer\'d to millions, \n\nWho leave the realms of oppression and night. \nLong as the sun spreads around us his splendour; \n\nLong as a wave on the ocean appears ; \nValour be freedom\'s triumphant defender, \nTyrants kept down by the brave Volunteers. \nNow let the thrilling strain, \nCheer ev\'ry hill and plain, \nWliile the bright banners so splendidly fly. \nLet festive torrents flow, \nJoy cheer the face of woe, \nGrateful hosannas ascend to the sky. \n\n\n\nAMERICAN MINSTREL. 77 \n\n\n\nTO FANCY. \n\nWhat ideal pleasures thy visions impart ! \nWhat bright glowing pictures thy pencils portray I \nWhen blissful delusions enrapture the heart \nWith charms of enchantment, romantic and gay. \n\nOn thy airy pinions the muses may fly, \nO\'er eternity\'s tide, and the current of time. \nOr follow the comets that sail thro\' the sky, \nOr visit the system of planets sublime. \n\nConducted by fancy what pleasure to soar. \nTriumphant o\'er care and adversity "s-gloom, \nAnd fields with celestial productions explore, \nOr muse in the mouldering caves of the moon. \n\nWhere anthems are heard in the regions of bliss, \nThy frolicsome fairies may wander around. \nOr dive to the ocean\'s unfathom\'d abyss. \nWhere trophies of Neptune profusely abound. \n\nThrough earth\'s wide dominions the Fancy can rove, \nAnd dwell on the charms of the mountains and vales ; \nWhere scenes are enchanted with lustre and love, \nAnd harmony\'s accents are borne on the gales, \nG \n\n\n\n78 AMERICAN MINSTREL. \n\n\n\nTHE TORNADO. \n\nEre the rising shades of night, \nHide the sun\'s declining ray ; \nClouds in wild portentous flight. \nDarken all the face of day. \n\nAs the winds of vengeance rise, \nWaves in dire commotions dash ; \nThunders shake the earth and skies, \nAnd the vivid lightnings flash. \n\nLiquid mountains raise their heads. \nBy the rude Tornado driv\'n ; \nOcean throug-h the welkin spreads, \nFoaming round the skii\'ts of Heav\'n. \n\nAs the waves ascend the sky, \nIn their wild resistless pow\'r ; \nThe sea monsters shudd\'ring lie, \nIn the gloomy coral bow\'r. \n\nSeamen lose at once their hopes. \nAnd as lurid lightnings glare, \nSeize upon the trembling ropes, \nWith the grasp of wild despair. \n\n\n\nAMERICAN MINSTREL, 79 \n\n\n\nMen are hurried to their graves. \nHavoc rides upon the land ; \nWhile the sea\'s avenging waves. \nHurl the ships upon the strand. \n\nFrom the magazines on high, \nBorne upon the angry gale ; \nThrough the air the torrents fly, \xe2\x80\x94 \nFloods of rain and balls of hail. \n\nTrees are drifted round afar, \nTowns in shatter\'d fragments hurl\'d, \nO\'er the mountains, through the air. \nClashing \'gainst a shudd\'ring world. \n\nO ye gods ! who rule the storm, \nStop its desolating rage. \nGive the sea its usual form, \nAnd the elements assuage. \n\nLet the hostile r^-^^ ^^^ire, \nAnd the w- -^"\xc2\xb0 ^^"^\xc2\xab \xc2\xabu^^\xc2\xabide ;\xe2\x80\x94 \nLet t^ -zephyrs mild and fair, \np..a the undulating tide. \n\n\n\n80 AMERICAN MINSTREL. \n\n\n\nAN ADDRESS, \n\nFOR THE OPENING OF A NEW THEATRE. \n\nLo ! here we meet ! and with delight behold \n\nA splendid edifice, but lately rear\'d ; \n\nTo be devoted to dramatic lore. \n\nHere works of art display their charms around ; \n\nThe scenery is drest in richest hues, \n\nAnd brightest prospects open to the stage. \n\nThis night, this night, the carnival begins ; \n\nHence flow the streams of intellectual joy. \n\nThe boxes, pit, and galleries are fill\'d \n\nWith welcome visitants, to whom we bow. \n\nColumbia\'s risUgr genius, rob\'d in light. \n\nDevoted oft to politix^ ^^^^^ ^g^j.^ \n\nNow sees her empire blesi ,;^jj peace, and crown\'d \n\nWith honour, glory, liberty ana ^ ,^,j.^ \n\nAnd where her valiant navy ploughs u^ ^^^p. \n\nOr where her star-bespangled banners wav. \n\nHer sons are recognised as bold and free; \n\nTheir country able to avenge their wrongs. \n\nWhile thus in tranquil majesty she dwells, \n\nDispensing justice from her laurel\'d throne, \n\n\n\nAMERICAN MINSTREL. 81 \n\n\n\nShe bids the muses, sound the magic lyre, \nAnd turns her eye to where the Graces meet, \nThen hail! all hail I the welcome drama, hail! \n\nTheatric glory long has grac\'d the brow \n\nOf old Britannia, circled by the sea, \n\nOn wliiph her thousand floating bulwarks ride, \n\nRich in the fruits of science, arts and lore, \n\nFrom age to age, she celebrates the deeds \n\nOf her departed sons of fame; and from \n\nThe stage, proclaims their virtues to the world. \n\nThus may Columbia through succeeding years \n\nRehearse the glory of her early days. \n\nAnd in her drama, sound with just applause \n\nThe val\'rous deeds of her immortal sons. \n\nWho pour\'d profusely on the battle field. \n\nTheir gen\'rous blood. And in the noble cause \n\nOf Independence, purchased with their lives \n\nThose sacred blessings, which we now enjoy. \n\nDark superstition, in ferocious ire. \nHas, with despotic, hand, in ages past, \nRul\'d o\'er the empire of the human mind. \nAnd circumscrib\'d the sphere of social joys. \nBut like Aurora\'s radiant beams of day. \nScience and truth, now spread their light around. \nAnd tho^e who view with astronomic gaze. \nStupendous worlds revolving round the sun, \nG 2 \n\n\n\n82 AMERICAN MINSTREL. \n\n\n\nOr trace the comets through creation\'s void, \nOr guide the fi\'ry thunderbolts of heav\'n, \nMay contemplate the works of nature\'s God, \nAnd v/orship him, as reason points the way. \nWithout the fear of prison, chains, or death, \nFrom persecution\'s desolating rage ; \nAnd now, where\'er the light of Science glows, \nOr mental liberty her empire holds, \nVirtue may claim the drama as her friend. \n\nWhat scenes of wonder, nature\'s hand has wrought \n\nWithin our country\'s wide and happy climes : \n\nThe thundering cataracts and inland seas, \n\nThe tow\'ring mountains, and luxuriant plains. \n\nThe shady forests, and savannas fair. \n\nThe glowing landscapes, and the darksome glens, \n\nMay grace the canvass, and diffuse a charm \n\nOf artificial grandeur, round the stage ; \n\nWhere thronging multitudes, express bj\'^ smiles \n\nThe soul enliv\'ning joy of comic plays. \n\nOr drop the tender tear at tragic scenes. \n\nThen Shakespear\'s spirit from the stage above. \n\nThrough the ethereal curtains of the sky. \n\nMay view with approbation and applause, \n\nA splendid drama on our happy shore. \n\nThose rising cities of the western world. \n\nWhere peace and plenty, spread their joys around, \n\n\n\namehicav minstrel. 83 \n\n\n\nWill see with pride dramatic geiiiag rise \nTo add new honours to our country\'s name. \nAnd this metropolis which foremost stands \nIn magnitude, in elegance and wealth; \nIn arts and literature, may justly claim \nPre-eminence of talents in dramatic lore. \n\nInstructive drama, what displays are thine ! \nTaste and refinement own thy potent sway ; \nVirtue is seen adorn\'d with brightest hues, \nAnd Vice appears in dark detested shades. \nWhen by thy skilful, mimic hand portray\'d: \nBe thine the province to enrich the mind. \nTo catch the fleeting manners of the day. \nAnd hold the mirror of departed times, \nTo brighten melancholy\'s sullen brow \nAnd pass the cup of social joys around. \nTo melt the icy fetters of the soul \nOf grov\'ling av\'rice, and with hum\'rous glee. \nMake long-fac\'d superstition lend a smile. \n\n\n\n84 AMERICAN M\xc2\xbb^^STREL. \n\n\n\nPOVERTY AND GENIUS. \n\n\n\nHow oft has genius with celestial glow, \nBurst through the clouds of indigence and woe. \nThough want bo"re heavy on his mortal frame, \nGreat Homer\'s genius, like the solar flame, \nO\'er earth\'s wide realms its beaming lustre flung, \nAs wars of ancient kings he proudly sung. \nThe fruits of Virgil\'s fertile fancy cheers, \nAges that rise beyond departed years ; \nThough want and indigence his body chill\'d, \nHis soul with warm poetic raptures thrill\'d. \nW^ith what bright charms did Dryden\'s fancy blaze, \nThrough the wide range of meditation\'s maze ; \nThough rich in thought which cast a lucid glow, \nHis life was crown\'d with care, with want and woe. \nThough Otway liv\'d neglected and unknown. \nFrom his dark\' shades poetic flow\'rs are drawn. \nWhile Milton\'s mortal view was wrapped in night, \nHis flaming fancy trac\'d the worlds of light ; \nResplendent genius warmed his mental powTS, \nAnd in the fields of fiction strew^M its flow\'rs. \nPoor Spencer\'s muse bore adverse fortune\'s gales, \nTo entertain us with its fairy tales. \n\n\n\nAMERICAN MINSTREL. 86 \n\n\n\nWhen bright effulgence glow\'d from Goldsmith\'s \n\nmind, \nTo warm the heart, and gratify mankind ; \nPerplexity and care his frame impair\'d, \nBut time shall cherish what his genius rear\'d. \nOft has the muse of pity sought the shade \nWhere poor neglected Chatterton was laid. \nThat orb from whence poetic lustres flow. \nSoon sunk beneath the horizon of woe. \nColumbus, too, with mighty genius blest, \nWho led mankind to regions in the west ; \nHe who first crost th\' Atlantic and survey\'d, \nA blooming world of wilderness and shade, \nFor wond\'rous deeds on ocean\'s wild domains. \nFound his reward but prison, grief, and chains. \n\nThough genius led her sons through want and care. \n\nFor them does fame triumphant honours bear; \n\nHer sister gratitude for them appears. \n\nTo float their mem\'ry o\'er a tide of years. \n\nFor them, through time, they make their joyous flight, \n\nAnd o\'er their ashes wave their wings of light. \n\n\n\n86 AMERICAN MINSTREL. \n\n\n\nTHE OCEAN. \n\nHow awful and grand is the liquid expanse, \n\nWhen a tempest rides over the deep ; \nOr when the rude billows have ended a dance, \n\nAnd are calm\'d to a tremulous sleep. \n\nWhil\xc2\xbb ridges of water successively roar, \nAnd the salt surf is thrown to the sky ; \n\nOn a rock in the sea, near an iron-bound shore, \nI see the l)ig waves rolling by. \n\nThe evening has follow\'d the splendour of day. \nWith an atmosphere pure and serene; \n\nThe clouds with the twilight are passing away. \nAnd the moonlight illumines the scene. \n\nThe noise of the notes of the sea-fowl I hear, \nGently borne on the sea-breeze\'s sigh ; \n\nAnd sound of the surges that break on the shore, \nWhere rocks all their fury defy. \n\nThe monsters that dwell in the ocean\'s dark beds. \nAnd sleep mid the coral trees\' gloom; \n\nFrom the sea-forests wander and raise up their heads. \nAnd bask in the light of the moon. \n\n\n\nAMERICAN MINSTREI- 87 \n\n\n\nTHE FOURTH OF JULY. \n\nWhile war and oppression in nations afar, \n\nObscure the political sky, \nYe sons of Columbia your glory declare, \n\nAnd rejoice on the Fourth of July. \n\nWhen armies from Europe invaded our shore. \n\nAnd blood-flowing rivers ran high ; \nThe heroes of Freedom broke tyranny\'s pow\'r. \n\nAnd triumph\'d the Fourth of July. \n\nWhile Britons for conquest exulting so loud, \n\nTheir equals in glory deny ; \nLet them with their army and navy so proud, \n\nRemember the Fourth of July. \n\nMay those who would favour a despotic pow\'r, \nThrough plans and deceptions so sly. \n\nFrom the temple of Liberty quickly retire. \nNor be seen on the Fourth of July. \n\nMay those who are tired of the blessings of peace, \n\nTo far distant shores swiftly fly ; \nThere let them conduct in what manner they please, \n\nWhile we triumph the Fourth of July. \n\n\n\n88 AMERICAN MINSTREL. \n\n\n\nMay arts ever flourish, and science remain, \n\nAnd plenty our wishes supply ; \nOur country\'s defenders their glory maintain, \n\nAnd be happy the Fourth of July. \n\nMay liberty\'s tree the fair evergreen stand, \nPerfuming the earth and the sky ; \n\nThe joy of the just and the pride of our land, \nShade us on the Fourth of July. \n\nYe American fair with your graces combin\'d, \nYour smiles and your beauty display ; \n\nAnd show to the world that you\'re ever inclin\'d. \nTo rejoice on the Fourth of July. \n\nAs time\'s rolling char\'ot moves swiftly along, \nAnd Freedom\'s birth-day is near by. \n\nLet yearly emotions influence my song. \nTo speak of each Fourth of July. \n\n\n\nAMERICA]^ MINSTREL. 89 \n\n\n\nMISERIES OF WAR. \n\n\n\nFrom the ruthless hand of war. \nWaste and havoc spread around ; \nFields are clad in human gore, \nMangled bodies strew the ground. \n\nHuman blood in rivers flow ; \nFiery cascades rend the air; \nWaste and mis\'ry want and woe, \nAre the dreadful fruits of war. \n\nSmoke revolving like a flood. \nInto mazy columns spread ; \nCloud the trampled fields of blood : \nShade the dying and the dead. \n\nLike the rivulets from the hills, \nGliding o\'er the verdant plain ; \nFlow around the purple rills. \nFrom the mangl\'d heaps of slain. \n\nH \n\n\n\n90 AMERICAN MINSTREL. \n\n\n\nCities rise in wreathes of fire, \nDrifting ashes cloud the sky, \nInjur\'d multitudes expire, \nO\'er them heaps of ruins lie. \n\n\n\nOrphans perishing with woe, \nO\'er their slaughter \'d fathers stand; \nAs the tearful torrents flow, \nLook to Heav\'n, and ask a friend. \n\n\n\nHungry wolves do often share \nSpoils of war mid tears and groans, \nAs the human flesh they tear \nFrom the shatter\'d broken bones. \n\n\n\nFrom the horrid scenes of war. \nCan immortal laurels grow? \nCan bright gems from clods of gore, \nSparkle round a Christian\'s brow ? \n\n\n\nYes, the choicest gems appear. \nSparkling round the laurel\'d head \nOf him who held his rights secure. \nAnd with his bleeding country bled. \n\n\n\nAMERICAN MINSTREL. 91 \n\n\n\nThere are greater evils far. \nThan from carnage ever fell ; \nWhat those greater evils are \nSlaves, in chains, with grief can tell. \n\nPeaceful tyrants holding pow\'r. \nGrim with superstitious zeal, \nDread more the awful curse of war, \nThan those who their oppression feel. \n\n\n\n92 AMERICAN MINSTREL. \n\n\n\nTHE TEAR. \n\n\n\nLeaving the haunts of worldly care. \nAnd wand\'ring near a mountain ; \n\nI saw Marilda pensive there, \nAside a chrystal fountain. \n\nHer pallid visage seem\'d to show, \nThat grief dwelt in her bosom ; \n\nAnd like the spring\'s untimely snow, \nImpair\'d a lovely blossom. \n\nHer heart had been opprest with woes, \nRock\'d by misfortune\'s billow ; \n\nShe there retir\'d to seek repose. \nBeneath a weeping willow. \n\nThe sun then sinking down to rest, \n\nUpon her faintly glimmer\'d ; \nCool zephyrs fann\'d her throbbing breast. \n\nAs through the trees they murmur\'d. \n\n\n\nAMERICAN MINSTREL. 93 \n\n\n\nBut soon a tear, a precious gem, \n\nBespoke her heart\'s emotion ; \nIt fell upon a limpid stream. \n\nWhich bore it to the ocean. \n\nThen quick a briny foaming wave, \n\nA distance far convey\'d it, \nTo sparkle where the tempests rave, \n\nAnd shine as love had made it. \n\nAnd there perhaps her swain so dear, \n\nNow feels some sad emotion ; \nAnd kindly drops a tender tear, \n\nUpon the boundless ocean. \n\nAnd as the tears together join, \n\nUpon the raging billow ; \nThough worn with grief she seem\'d divine, \n\nBeneath the weeping willow. \n\n\n\nh2 \n\n\n\n94 AMERICAN MINSTREL. \n\n\n\nMUSIC. \n\n\n\nHow oft has music soften\'d human woes, \nAnd caused to flow the sympathetic tear ; \nHow often charm\'d rude passions to repose, \nWith thrilling sounds, meliffluent and clear. \n\nWhen moon and stars their lucid smiles display, \nAnd all is calm beneath the evening shade ; \nWhat joy to listen to the magic lay, \nThe social concert, or the serenade. \n\nCome child of genius, lend thy power awhile, \nAnd ev\'ry tender sympathy excite ; \nWith thy smooth numbers, all my cares beguile, \nAnd fill my soul with visions of delight. \n\nCold is the heart that never felt the thrills \nOf music\'s soft but animating strains ; \nBut hearts there are which superstition chills. \nAnd parsimony holds in icy chains. \n\n\n\nAMERICAN MINSTREL. 95 \n\n\n\nPAINTING. \n\n\n\nDaughter of genius, what displays are thine, \nWhat pleasing wonders have thy pencils wrought ; \nDeparted scenes with those the dust enshrine, \nBefore our view in living forms are brought. \' \n\nWhen winter o\'er the land his mantle flings, \nAnd shrouds in gloom the landscape from our view; \nThy magic pow\'r the smiles of summer brings. \nOr shows the spring with soft and rosy hue. \n\nTaste and refinement where the graces move, \nAre thy dear handmaids, and with gen\'rous care, \nDisplay thy works : \xe2\x80\x94 the tragic scenes of love, \nOf glory, art, and nature, as they are. \n\n\n\n96 AMERICAN MINSTREL. \n\n\n\nTO MY FLUTE. \n\nWhile tempests, tornadoes, and earthquakes and war. \n\nThe bliss of the nations dispute ; \nAnd dangers roll round me, I\'ll smoke my segar. \n\nThen carelessly play on my Flute. \n\nWhen war-breathing bugles are heard in our land, \n\nWhat musical mind can be mute ; \nWere I in old Orpheus\' magical band, \n\nMy notes should proceed from my Flute. \n\nAs I look all around me, or take a survey. \n\nFull many I cannot well suit ; \nI return to myself as regardless as they. \n\nAnd give all my love to my Flute. \n\nWhile cynics and zealots, and madmen unite, \n\nAnd dictates of reason dispute ; \nI heed not their folly, but cherish delight, \n\nProduc\'d by the sound of my Flute. \n\nAs writing and study my senses oft tire, \nAnd friends are but treach\'rous or mute ; \n\nMy writings would flame in a funeral pyre, \nWere I never consol\'d by my Flute. \n\n\n\nAMERICAN MINSTREL. 97 \n\n\n\nDELUSIONS OF HOPE. \n\n\n\nThou kind Enchantress who relieves the breast, \nFrom cares oppressive, and corroding woe ; \n\'jjlV^ho calms the raging passions all to rest, \nAnd throws a smile around misfortune\'s brow. \n\nWelcome to me deceiver as thou art, \nA lonely wand\'rer all thy charms may own ; \nWhen dire adversity distubs the heart. \nAnd fancy\'d pleasures dwell in thee alone. \n\nFrom thy delusive power, O ! let me borrow \nSome dreams of bliss, depictured bright and gay, \nThat through the fancy\'d pleasures of to-morrow, \nI\'ll feel not half the burdens of to-day. \n\nO thou Deceiver with thy fairy smiles. \nCome and relieve the care-encumber\'d breast ; \nCome scatter flow\'rs o\'er life\'s perplexing wilds, \nFor life without thee is a dreary waste. \n\n\n\n98 AMERICAN MINSTREL. \n\n\n\nON THE FALL OF A LEAF. \n\n\n\nWithin a lonely glade, \nWhere lofty trees abound, \nI sought the silent shade, \nTo cast a view around. \n\nWhen lo ! a leaf once fair, \nFell from the lofty spray, \nDescended through the air. \nThen on the ground it lay. \n\nThus like the faded leaf, \nMan falls from fairest bloom, \nThrough sickness, pain, and grief, \nAnd drops beneath the tomb. \n\nWhen at ambition\'s call. \nThe angry passions rise. \nThink of the leaves that fall, \nAnd all your pomp despise. \n\n\n\ni \n\n\n\nAMERICAN MINSTREL. 99 \n\n\n\nBANKS OF HUDSON. \n\nYe hills ! ye rocks, and cedar bow\'rs ! \nWhere Hudson winds its Hmpid stream, \nWhere lovers spend their blissful hours, \nAnd musing bards court fancy\'s drean \n\nThere oft beneath the airy grove, \n\'^ On broken banks I\'ve spent the day ; \nWhere all was kindness, joy, and love, \nIn scenes of nature wild and gay. \n\nAlmira, blooming fresh and fair. \nWhose cheeks display \'d the richest hue, \nI first beheld with rapture there. \nAnd caught her eye of Heav\'nly blue. \n\nHer social home between the hills. \nBeneath the trees of fairest green ; \nMid shining pools and sparkling rills, \nEnrich\'d with rural charms was seen. \n\nIt seem\'d the seat of tranquil joy. \nWhere pure domestic comforts meet; \nWhere clouds of grief would ne\'er destroy \nThe flow\'rs that grac\'d the calm retreat. \n\n\n\n100 AMERICAN MINSTREL. \n\n\n\nBut soon the maid of fairest bloom, \nWhose smiles the face of woe could cheer, \nThe hand of death laid in the tomb, \nRegardless of affection\'s tear. \n\nOn turf that shrouds her mortal form, \nBeneath a drooping willow laid ; \nYoung blushing flow\'rets there are born. \nSweet emblems of the lovely maid. \n\nBut as I traee the road of time, \nThe charms of nature still remain ; \nThe Hudson prospects yet sublime, \nWhere golden dreams have yielded pain^ \n\n\n\nAMERICAN MINSTREL. 101 \n\n\n\nLOVE\'S LAMENTATION. \n\n\n\nHow tender and dear, \n\nThe bright warm tear, \nLike a twinkling star on the Heav\'ns\' fair face. \n\nThe grief-clouded eyes. \n\nAnd the heart-breathing sighs. \nGive JuHa Ann\'s emotions a soft, sad grace. \n\nI heard her complain. \n\nIn a mournful strain, \nThat her absent Alphonso she ne\'er should see : \n\nHow on a far coast, \n\nHis dear life was lost, \nHis body thrown into the deep salt sea. \n\nShe pray\'d that the God, \n\nWho rules with a nod. \nThe tempest and tide, and who calms each wave, \n\nWould bury her swain, \n\nIn the shell-cover\'d plain, \nAnd raise coral bow\'rs around his grave. \nI \n\n\n\n102 AMERICAN MINSTKEL. \n\n\n\n" What is life to rae, \n\nAnd the world\'s light glee, \nOr the landscapes drest in the spring\'s fair bloom ;" \n\nDeep sighing, she said, \n\nSince her mind was led, \nIn sorrow to dwell on a watery tomb. \n\nBut dried were her tears, \n\nAnd calm-d were her fears, \nWhen she heard that her lover would soon return. \n\nThe news of his death, \n\nA miscreant\'s breath, \nTo poison and blast all her hopes had born. \n\nThe kind cheering gales. \n\nThat fill\'d all the sails, \nSoon wafted Alphonso safe to the land : \n\nDelighted she flies, \n\nWith joy-beaming eyes, \nAnd meets his embraces upon the strand. \n\n\n\nAMERICAN MINSTREL. 103 \n\n\n\nTHE SERENADE. \n\n\n\nThe moon like a dutiful daughter of day, \n\nShone fair on the bosom of night; \nAnd clouds from tlie heavens were passing away, \n\nTo yield a calm hour of delight. \n\nRetir\'d from the day\'s dreary turmoils and care, \n\nIn peace on my couch I reclin\'d ; \nWhen strains of soft harmony broke thro\' the air, \n\nAnd call\'d forth my pleasures of mind. \n\nIt seem\'d like a concert of angels above, \nSo thrilling, enchanting, and clear ; \n\nInspiring the soul with devotion and love, \nAnd starting the tremulous tear. \n\nO ! who could repose in a moment like this, \n\nOf melody\'s sweet melting strains, \nWhich give to the senses a foretaste of bliss, \n\nThat Heaven\'s bright region contains. \n\n\n\n104 AMERICAN MINSTEEIi. \n\n\n\nMelliffluent notes on the night breezes roll, \n\nAnd feelings of rapture impart ; \nThose tones which unlock all the springs of the soul, \n\nAnd vibrate the chords of the heart. \n\nIn earth\'s early days when creation was young, \nRound Eden\'s cool fountains and shades, \n\nTo cheer our first parents, soft anthems were sung, \nAnd seraphims held serenades. \n\n\n\nAMEEICAN MINSTREL. 105 \n\n\n\nBATTLE OF ORLEANS. \n\nWhen Britain\'s proud legions invaded our shore, \nFor valour and conquest exulting so high ; \nThe heavens were rent with their cannon\'s loud roar, \nAnd war\'s flaming torches illumin\'d the sky. \n\nColumbia\'s fair genius with eagle-cy\'d gaze. \nThe contest beheld from her evergreen throne, \nSaw blood-cover\'d plains and our cities\' bright blaze, \nAnd call\'d to the contest her favourite son. \n\nThen Jackson, who long both in council and war, \nHad labour\'d with wisdom, with prudence, and zeal ; \nFor the good of his country, her glory and pow\'r, \nRepair\'d to the field with his vet\'rans of steel. \n\nBritannia\'s loud thunders awaken\'d the land, \nBellona rode swiftly around in her car ; \nAs the boasted invincible, conquering band, \nExultingly gain\'d Mississippi\'s fair shore. \n\nThe rocket\'s bright glare hail\'d the dawn of the day. \nOf which in a sorrov/ful strain they must tell, \nWhen their choicest battahons so valiant and gay, \nBefore the American yeomanry fell, \n\nl2 \n\n\n\n106 AMERICAN MINSTREL. \n\n\n\nFor met by the valorous sons of the west, \n\nThey found that their boasting and threats were in vain ; \n\nA tempest of lead put their leaders to rest, \n\nAnd cover\'d the ground with the heaps of the slain. \n\nThe Britons beheld with affright and despair, \n\nOur ensigns in triumph so splendidly wave : \n\nThe sun shone like blood, thro\' the thick smoke of war, \n\nBut honour\'s bright haloes encircled the brave. \n\nAnd now let a thrill of warm gratitude rise, \nWhile joyously sounding the accents of praise, \nOur songs shall proclaim to the earth and the skies, \nThe contest was ended in glory\'s bright blaze. \n\nOur banners that wave o\'er old Neptune\'s domain. \nProtect, uninsulted, our subjects who roam. \nIn blessings their forefathers died to obtain, \nTo rights on the ocean, a country and home. \n\nLet joyous emotions now cheer ev\'ry soul. \nAnd freedom\'s pure incense to Pleaven ascend; \nFor ne\'er will we yield to a foreign control. \nWhile earth yields support to the children of men. \n\n\n\nAMERICAN MINSTREL. 107 \n\n\n\nODE TO GREECE. \n\nGreece, oh ! Greece, once rich in fame, \nLand renown\'d for classic lore ; \nNations venerate thy name, \nFor thy deeds in days of yore. \n\nWhen the people of the earth, \nGrop\'d in ignorance and night. \nThou didst give to science birth, \xe2\x80\x94 \nScience on thee shed her light. \n\nLong has the barbarian hand. \nO\'er thee held oppression\'s rod ; \nStrike ! then strike the savage band ! \nSave thy country \xe2\x80\x94 honour God. \n\nHeroes of illustr\'ous sires, \nBravely fighting to be free ; \nWave your banners, light your fires. \nRaise the songs of liberty. \n\nScio\'s blood for vengeance cries. \nSouls of martyrs throng the sky ; \nMissolonghi\'s ashes rise. \nTell how bravely Greeks can die. \n\n\n\n108 AMERICAN MINSTREL. \n\n\n\nLet your proud invaders find. \nAs your thunders rend the air; \nDauntless souls together join\'d, \nEv\'ry tent a lion\'s lair. \n\nFrom beyond the ocean\'s flood, \nFrom where Freedom proudly reigns, \nIn thy cause will freemen\'s blood, \nFlow profusely on thy plains. \n\nThough in death thy children sleep, \nThough thy daughters torn away, \nDoom\'d in servitude to weep, \nThou, oh Greece ! wilt yet be free. \n\nSee the Crescent on the wane, \nMecca\'s flag shall yet be furl\'d ; \nSavage tyrants cease to reign. \nDespots from their thrones be hurl\'d. \n\n\n\nAMERICAN MINSTREL. 109 \n\n\n\nEMPIRE OF PEACE. \n\nIn what blest region of this earthly ball, \nDoes Peace securely hold her blissful sway ; \nWhere animated beings great and small, \nDread not the monsters lurking for their prey. \n\nNot in the air where vultures thirst for blood, \nAnd screaming ravens load their beaks with gore ; \nNor where rapacious tyrants cleave the flood, \nTo crush their prey beneath the ocean\'s roar. \n\nNot in the cities\' throng can peace be found, \nWhere wealth o\'er crime its gilded mantle throws \nNor in the waste of woods where panthers bound, \nAnd howling wolves break solitude\'s repose. \n\nNot where Religion lifts her splendid fanes. \nWhere pride and pomp display the silvery glare ; \nFor there the great, the humbler soul disdains. \nAnd reason vainly pleads for mercy there. \n\nPeace holds her Empire in sepulchral gloom, \nWhere rest the millions, once so proud of life ; \nUnconcious of the tears that wet the tomb, \nAlike unconscious of our idle strife. \n\n\n\n110 AMERICAN MINSTREL. \n\n\n\nThe hand of death directs the pilgrim\'s way, \nAnd from th\' opprest removes his heavy load ; \nBut fills the vicious heart with dire dismay, \nAnd scatters thorns^ along the tyrant\'s road. \n\nUpon those tongues now dipp\'d in slander\'s gall, \nThe loathsome reptiles of the earth shall feed, \nAnd on those lips, whence purest accents fall, \nShall nauseous insects in profusion breed. \n\nYet there\'s an Empire of repose below \nThe earth\'s green surface, where no tempests roar ; \nWhere countless numbers rest, releas\'d from woe, \nWho breathe their sighs and shed their tears no more. \n\n\n\nAMERICAN MINSTREL. Ill \n\n\n\nFANATICISM. \n\nDetested monster with malignant ire, \n\nWho fills the world with misery and woe, \n\nWhat guiltless victims to thy rage expire ! \n\nWhat streams of tears and blood around thee flow ! \n\nMan\'s dearest right to liberty and laws, \nAre lost where\'er thy hungry harpies meet; \nHell\'s fiercest demons labour in thy cause. \nAnd fiDes to reason bow before thy feet. \n\nWhat toils and treasures to avert thy arm, \n\nThe thoughtless millions have with pleasure giv\'n, \n\nAnd robb\'d fair virtue of her richest charm. \n\nTo gain thy smiles and promises of Heav\'n. \n\nFrom others\' grief thy greatest joys arise, \nAround thy throne no social comforts smile ; \nThe scenes of woe delight thy bloated eyes. \nWhere justice stoops to tyrants base and vile. \n\nThy breath displays the frost of wild despair, \nTo blight the flow\'rs of life\'s unclouded morn ; \nAnd spreads a wintry gloom of sadness there. \nWith prospects dreary, and with hopes forlorn. \n\n\n\nAMERICAN MINSTREL. \n\n\n\nFair science trembles at thy wanton sway, \nThy wolves and vultures \xc2\xab,11 her works deface ; \nThy tender mercies cruelties display, \nAnd not one thrill of sympathy embrace. \n\nLook round the world, and ponder o\'er each deed \nOf infamy, that springs from anti-christian zeal ; \nThe best of men are often caused to bleed. \nAnd wisest men dare not their thoughts reveal. \n\nBut thanks to God, who rules our happy shore, \nHere oft the monster\'s head dejected hangs ; \nOur charter\'d rights unfetter\'d by its pow\'r. \nWithholds the deadly poison from its fangs. \n\nBut in Columbia\'s highly favour\'d land, \nThe pointed darts of calumny are hurl\'d. \nWith studied aim, from orthodoxy\'s hand, \nAgainst th\' enquiring children of the world. \n\nTo free the sacred fields from noxious weeds, \nWhat means does pious pomp and pride employ : \nThe warring spirits, to enforce their creeds, \nThe fairest flow\'rs and choicest plants destroy. \n\n\n\nAMERICAN MINSTREL. 113 \n\n\n\nA CAMP MEETING. \n\n\n\nAs folly bids her trumpets loudly sound, \nAnd superstition spreads her influence round ; \nThousands at once the sounding calls obey, \nAnd to the sylvan shades direct their way. \nFrom their own homes to a sequestered grove, \nThe mighty crowds in mighty numbers rove ; \nThe thronging multitudes the forest gain, \nAnd with their vocal thunders shake the plain. \nLoud jarring tumults shake the limpid air. \nAnd fill the soul with wildness and despair. \n\nWhen all conven\'d beneath the leafy bower. \nTo offer homage to a sovereign Power ; \nA Power to whom our homage should be found \nTo flow from thoughts most solemn and profound ; \nWild frantic zeal its raging flames impart, \nTo fire the senses and disturb the heart. \nIn sad dismay spectators stand aghast, \nWhile scenes of wonder agitate the breast. \nWith clapping hands, with shouts and rending cries, \nThe pious saints fall down and view the skies. \nFrom morn to eve, from eve to morn the sound \nSpreads through the camp, and echoes far around. \nK \n\n\n\n114 AMERICAN MINSTREL. \n\n\n\nThe feather\'d tribes of such dire noise afraid. \nOn swiftest pinions seek a calmer shade. \nThe owls and nightingales forbear to sing, \nWhile mingling accents through the vallies ring. \nAt such a tumult see the angry steed \nflis bridle break and prance away with speed. \nThe hissing snakes quick to their dens repair, \nAnd cringe with horror and foreboding fear. \nThe wild quadrupeds leave their bowei\'s of ease, \nAnd seek asylums in the hollow trees. \nThe croaking toads their anthems cease to sound, \nWhile in the camp a thousand strains resound. \nThe\'snails and beetles speed their march along, \nNor dare look back on the distracted throng. \nWhat dreadful tumults tlirough the camp resound I \nWhat pious souls lie prostrate on the ground I \nThe valiant speakers, mounted high in air, \nLike rods of steel attract electric fire ; \nAs from the head converging fires combined, \nBurst with explosion, and distract the mind ; \nThe gaping crowd, struck with foreboding fear, \nTurn social bliss to horrors wild and drear. \nFrom frantic mouths terrific bolts are thrown. \nWhich pierce the hearts of those to sense unknown. \nAround the standard of fanatic zeal, \nFull many stagger, and full many reel ; \nWhile many stretch themselves upon the ground, \nAnd in the dirt regardless roll around. \n\n\n\nAMERICAN MINSTREL. 11. \n\n\n\nYes many a fool expresses what he feels, \nWith downward shoulders and uplifted heels ! \nYoung ladies too whom nature forniM for love, \nLike furies rave and jump about the grove. \n\nCrowds after crowds in swagg\'ring marches come, \nAnd seem inspired with brandy, gin, or rum. \nThe love-sick maid here fondly meets her swain, \nAnd Cupid throw his arrows o\'er the plain; \nThe am\'rous bosom feels the pointed dart. \nAnd breathes emotions from the wounded heart. \nHere friends are happy that they meet once more. \nAnd laugh at what they\'ve never seen before. \nHere honest Jack beholds his brother tar, \nAnd tells what sports abound in lands afar. \nThe female cruiser here spreads out her sails, \nAnd lifts her silken streamers to the gales ; \nWith looks and smiles she does the most she can, \nTo gain attention, and to capture man. \n\nThe strange manoeuvres, with uncommon sway, \nAlmost make rocks with crimson blushes say, \nThey are amazed, astonish\'d and confused, \nAlarm\'d, distrest, insulted and abussd. \nDiscordant yells fly swiftly through the air, \nAnd seem much like the savage whoops of war; \nThe lofty trees, oft waved by zephyr\'s gales. \nAppear dejected while the camp prevails. \n\n\n\n116 AMERICAN MINSTREL. \n\n\n\nShort lived insects in thick crowds retire, \n\nFar from this tumult, and this sacred war, \n\nSave the musquitoes, who in war\'s array. \n\nIn throngs of millions dreadful scenes display. \n\nThey feast on cheeks where smiles and kisses flow, \n\nNor heed the tears of bigotry and woe. \n\nThrough the pale night the battle\'s sounding bray. \n\nWithin the grove, spreads wonder and dismay. \n\nBut darker gloom succeeds the moon\'s pale beams. \n\nAnd throws its mantle o\'er th\' unhallow\'d scenes ; \n\nWhere many wearied by much toil and care, \n\nIn bundling crowds to canvass tents repair. \n\nThere pious swains extend their circling arms, \n\nAnd press with joy those nymphs with mortal charms. \n\nThen tranquil sleep calms ev\'ry wakeful care. \n\nAnd pain and trouble have no entrance there. \n\nSave what wild wond\'rous visions do impart, \n\nWith dreadful dreams to terrify the heart, \n\nOn fancy\'s wing, the senses oft explore \n\nThe dreadful scenes, rebea.rst the day before. \n\nSwifter than comets sailing through the sky, \n\nImagination\'s airy visions fly \n\nTo yawnmg gulfs, where fiends and devils join \n\nTo wage rude war with fanatics divine; \n\nSwift from the flames red sparkling fires are hurl\'d, \n\nBy Satan\'s hand, to scourge a stubborn world. \n\nThick sheets of fire, from the infernal realm, \n\n\n\nAMERICAN MINSTREL. 11? \n\n\n\nWith unrelenting fury overwhelm \n\nAll those except the pious, faultless band, \n\nWho spread their terror through the astonish\'d land. \n\nThough fiery bolts rend rocks and rive the trees. \n\nEach pious hero laughs at what he sees ; \n\nOn him alone the shafts are hurPd in vain, \n\nFrom the infernal shades where demons reign. \n\nIn strong array proud hypocrites divine \nAnd shouting zealots in alliance join. \nAnd raise such "thunders, with assuming air, \nThat Satan\'s host is struck with sullen fear ; \nAnd Satan too, tired of the war\'s alarms. \nBids his proud veterans lay down their arms. \nHis warring bands from the dread fight retire, \nAnd safety find in sulph\'rous caves of fire. \nNow as fair laurels grace the conqu\'rors\' brow, \nAnd all subdued within the world below. \nRomantic dreams inspire the mind to rise \nTo higher mansions in the distant skies ; \nFrom whence loud anthems cheer each list\'ning world, \nAnd former troubles to oblivion hurl\'d. \nFrom earth\'s Cam>p-meetings thousands speed their way \nThrough the fair morning of eternal day, \nTo golden gates, on airy nothing hung, \nWhich quickly open to receive a throng \nK 2 \n\n\n\n1 1 8 AMERICAN MINSTREL. \n\n\n\nOf those who through thick storms and gloomy night, \nSubdued their foes and put them all to flight. \nAs they progress the crowded streets of air. \nWhere no toll bridges and no turnpikes are. \nThey cast a look on earth where once they stood, \nAnd slander\'d there who morally are good. \nBut from those scenes, where fancied joys abound, \nThey \'wake, and find themselves upon the ground, \nWithin their tents, adorn\'d with leaves and straw. \nWhere noxious weeds and fruitless briars grow. \nWhile from the camp shrill screeches rend the air. \nLike noise of cats when fighting in despair. \n\nThe shouting zealots feel some dreadful shocks. \nAnd deals contagion from Pandora\'s box. \nHot fevers rage ; the cheeks red as the rose ; \nThe pulse beats high ; the purple fluid flows \nIrregularly through each swelling vein. \nAnd wild delirium acts\'upon the brain, \nTill life suspended gives the sufF\'rers rest, \nAnd calms the dire emotions of the breast. \nBut when the kindling spark of life returns. \nGlory is felt ; the soul enraptured burns \nWith heavenly fire ; the eyes forbear to weep. \nFor sorrow, pain and sin, are lost in sleep. \n\nSome altercations agitate the crowd, \n\nAnd swell to quarrels, angry, fierce and loud. \n\n\n\nAMERICAN MINSTREL. 119 \n\n\n\nTill warring saints with poles and cudgels join \nTo chastise those who say such works are vain. \nThe pious watchmen show their dreadful power, \nAnd wield their weapons at the midnight hour. \nAt once bold fists and cudgels swiftly fly, \nIn spite of tears or heart-distressing sigh. \nTill vict\'ry crowns the pious watchman\'s brow, \nAnd songs of triumph high exulting flow ; \nThen pious dames, their feelings to declare, \nStrong ribbons break and wave their caps in air. \n\nTo the great altar, fenced with crooked poles. \nNone must approach but pure converted souls. \nNo man must enter where the ladies are. \nUnless \'tis he who joins in shouts and prayer; \nFor fear the coquette will her smiles impart, \nTo raise his passions and seduce his heart. \n\nOn all the confines of the camp of Mars, \nThose who are wearied with the holy wars \nCan gain refreshments from the sutler\'s hand, \nAnd feast on all the products of the land. \nAround the mingling scenes of joy and woe \nWhiskey and rum in lucid torrents flow. \nMeat, fruits and bread on num\'rous boards appear, \nMid cider pools and foaming floods of beer. \nBut Bacchus spreads his magic powers around. \nAnd throws his faithful subjects on the ground. \n\n\n\n120 AMERICAN MINSTREL. \n\n\n\nIn circling grandeur round the noisy crowd. \nTents after tents, promiscuously are strew\'d ; \nIn front of these are seen their smoking fires, \nBehind them waggons, baggage and their stores. \nFrora distant lands and distant climes appear \nThe good, the bad, the ugly and the fair. \nThe aged sire joins in the vocal sound. \nAnd bids the son spread shouts of glory round. \nThe pious matron bids the blooming maid \nSupport their virtue while beneath the shade. \nBut ah ! perhaps too many of them feel \nMore wanton amours than religious zeal. \nWhat pleasure, joy and ecstacy have those \nWho in the camp feel neither care nor woes; \nWho cheer\'d with love, with rapture and delight, \nSing all the day, and kiss away the night. \nWhat balmy kisses on sweet lips are hung I \nWhat tales of love flow from the pious tongue ! \nBut should I all those wond\'rous scenes rehearse, \nThe muse of mirth no more would aid my verse. \n\nWould time forbear to wheel her rapid flight, \nI\'d tell more truths with rapture and delight ; \nBut as much care hangs heavy on my time, \nI fail to tell of many scenes sublime. \nThough after days and nights had roll\'d along, \nAnd weariness had seized the toiling throng, \n\n\n\nAMERICAN MINSTREL. 121 \n\n\n\nThey tumbled down their splendid canvass domes, \nAnd soon expect to hail their happy homes. \nAs they forsake where sylvan beauty reigns, \nThe mud-gilt waggons thunder o\'er the plains ; \nAnd bear those zealots, in tremendous loads. \nTo their own dwellings and their fond abodes. \n\nNow milder notes spread through th\' astonish\'d grove. \nFrom warblers chaunting mutual strains of love. \nOn ground polluted by unhallow\'d deeds, \nThe rabbit plays and the opossum feeds. \nThe glitt\'ring insects sport in ev\'ry breeze. \nAnd wand\'ring screech-owls gain the hollow trees, \nThere dwell in safety and in rapture sing. \nAnd feel the joys evacuations bring. \nThe feather\'d tribes relate from their own bower, \nWhat things are done by superstition\'s power. \nSuch wond\'rous things were never known before, i \nSince the rude savage tribes were on our shore. \nAnd in their revels raised most hideous noise, \nAnd hail\'d the jug of rum with heart-felt joys. \nBut one at least amongst an Indian crew. \nForbears to drink while all the rest pursue \nThe odious pleasure drunkenness can yield ; \nHe guides their sports ; each weapon in its shield \nFrom them secures ; and he withholds the hand \nThat might do mischief to the frantic band. \n\n\n\n122 AMERICAN MINSTREL. \n\n\n\nBut in this camp from superstition\'s bowl, \n\nStrong draughts were urged on ev\'ry thirstless soul, \n\nAnd all of those who dare refuse to drink, \n\nWere headlong hurl\'d down hell\'s sulphureous brink. \n\nNow as the scatter\'d throngs their homes regain, \nThey sing of glory on the shaded plain, \nWith fondest joy the pious heroes tell, \nHow many triumph\'d, and how many fell ; \nHow Heaven assisted all the warlike train, \nWith health and vigour in the great campaign, \nOf four long days and nights, mid dust and toil, \nWhere perspiration wet the thirsty soil ; \nWhere ev\'ry frantic sword was drawn t\' oppose, \nIn dreadful conflict, all their unseen foes. \nBut through the grove, now tranquil joys remain, \nAnd here I put a period to my strain. \n\n\n\nAMERICAN MIISSTREL. 123 \n\n\n\nTHE UNGRATEFUL MONARCH. \n\n\n\nThere is a King of potent reign, \nWhose empire o\'\'er our States extends ; \nWho lets his enemies complain, \nBut slays his most devoted friends. \n\nAll those who court the tyrant\'s ire. \nAnd revel round his burning throne, \nFeel life consuming by his fire. \nAnd with the gout and palsy groan. \n\nFve seen him kindle strife and rage \nAmong his Bacchanalian train ; \nAnd then the rioting assuage, \nBy driving reason from the brain. \n\n\n\nFve seen him change the florid glow \nOf life, to visage wild and pale; \nAnd heard young orphans, plung\'d in woe, \nO\'er his fallen victims wail. \n\n\n\n124 AMERICAN MINSTREL. \n\n\n\nThe choicest products of our fields. \nThe juice of cane from Southern climes, \nMaintain his power ; \xe2\x80\x94 the grape too yields \nTo him an instrument of crimes. \n\nAnd do you wish to know the name \nOf him before whom millions fall, \nCover\'d with infamy and shame ? \n\'Tis the great tyrant \xe2\x80\x94 Alcohol. \n\n\n\nAMEKICAN MINSTREL. 125 \n\n\n\nNEW YEAR\'S ADDRESS \n\n\n\nOF THE NEWS CARRIER. \n\n\n\nTo you my kind patrons and friends, I appear, \nWith a POETIC SCRAP, to present to your view ; \nWhich takes a light glance of the just ended year, \nAnd pictures the prospects that smile on the new. \n\nBut few the events to be courted in story, \n\nOr things to be class\'d with the great or sublime, \n\nWill be found on the records of national glory, \n\nIn the year that\'s just dropp\'d in the ocean of time. \n\nThough the angel of mercy, from Heaven descended. \nHas partially silenc\'d the tumults of war. \nYet peace and oppression are mutually blended, \nFor kings support kings in the nations afar. \n\nIn Turkey the torches of war are still blazing. \nAnd slaughter and carnage encrimson the plains ; \nThe Greeks by their valour their bulwarks are raising. \nWith bones of the tyrants who held them in chains \n\n\n\n126 AMERICAN MINSTREL. \n\n\n\nIn Southern Columbia vast empires are founded, \nWhere freedom and peace shall unitedly reign, \nAnd men with the bounties of Heaven surrounded, \nSpurn the shackles and crimes of degenerate Spain. \n\nWhat wonders are there in the works of creation ! \nPresenting the pow\'r of the Almighty\'s hand; \nThe Andes\' white summits of great elevation, \nO\'er the thunder-clouds\' rage appear awful and grand. \n\nOn the ocean our stars and our stripes are respected, \nO\'er the empire of Neptune our eagle may rove; \nOur seamen, who visit all climes, are protected \nBy the flag they protect \xe2\x80\x94 by the country they love. \n\nOur wide-spreading region now let us survey, \nAnd see how improvements begin to increase ; \nOur cities and hamlets are glitt\'ring and gay. \nOur country is blest with abundance and peace. \n\nAgriculture displays the rich growth of the soil. \nManufactures and commerce their treasures unfold, \nThat all may partake of the fruits of their toil. \nWorth more to a nation than mountains of gold. \n\n\n\nAMERICAN MINSTREL. 127 \n\n\n\nInternal improvements already begun, \nNew channels of enterprise offer to view ; \nCanals from the lakes to the rivers will run, \nAnd millions of people their courses pursue. \n\nMay our country be blest with the bounties of Heav\'n \nAnd angels of peace guard the land and the sea; \nOur journey of life we have found so uneven, \nBe smooth for the future, delightful and free. \n\nMay the light of American literature shine \nUnobstructed by traitors, or foreign control. \nAnd virtue and piety, treasures divine. \nImprove ev\'ry heart and exalt cv\'ry soul. \n\nMay the Fair of our land with their beaut}^ and graces, \nWith rosy cheek\'d health feci a flow of delight; \nAnd loves fond emotions from Hymen\'s embraces, \nMake scenes of this life appear lovely and bright. \n\nSo now, worthy patrons, I bid you adieu ! \nI presented you this with my heart\'s v/armest cheer | \nTho\' 1 leave you awhile, and my travels pursue, \nI wish you a prosp\'roas and happy new year. \n\n\n\n128 AMERICAN MINSTREL. \n\n\n\nSYMMES\' THEORY \n\n\n\nOF THE HOLLOWNESS OF THE EARTH. \n\n\n\nIn modern days when genius soars so high, \nExploring Heav\'ns bright fields in giddy flight; \nSymmes takes another course, and points the way, \nThrough polar op\'nings, to old Pluto\'s realm: \nAnd tells what concave lands and seas abound \nWithin the globe, on which we mortals dwelL \nThat there the sun sends forth his genial rays, \nThat there another Flora decks the fields ; \nAnother Ceres scatters fruits around, \nTo be enjoyed by animals and men. \n\nIt may be so that earth is but a shell, \n\nThat men upon its inner surface live \n\nIn socia.l comfort, and like us partake \n\nOf Heav\'n\'s best gift, the pure, the vital air. \n\nAlthough our holy men demurely say, \n\nThat downward lie the caverns dark and drear. \n\nWhere tliose who doubt their dogmas soon must go, \n\nTo dwell for ever in sulphureous gloom, \n\n\n\nAJIERICAJ* MINSTREL. 129 \n\n\n\nAnd swim upon a boist\'rous sea of fire, \nAnd groan and grieve beneath eternal wrath. \n\nShould the bold traveirrs eye no hell explore, \nBut find a subterraneous world with fields, \nWhich lend their fragrance to the breath of spring ; \nAnd waving groves which yield their summer shade, \nAnd hills and vales that winter decks with snow ; \nThen must vindictive superstition rise, \nTo other regions of some other orb, \nAnd there locate a place of endless woe. \n\nMysterious things there are in nature\'s works. \n\nWhich baflie man"\'s research, but which invite \n\nThe philosophic mind to bold conjecture, \n\nAs to the cause of what we often see. \n\nWhy does the needle point towards the poles ? \n\nThrough the long wintry nights o\'er arctic lands. \n\nFrom whence that radiance* streaming through the \n\nsky,\xe2\x80\x94 \nReflecting grandeur round the ice-bound earth ? \n\nWhen first \'twas said this earth was but a sphere, \nRevolving yearly round the source of day. \nAnd daily on its axis turning round; \n\n* Aurora Borealis. \nL 2 \n\n\n\n130 AMERICAN MINSTREL. \n\n\n\nDenouncing ignorance with pious sneers, \nHeld it as blasphemy what then was said \nIn truth, of nature\'s just harmonious laws. \n\nWhen Galileo\'s telescopic gaze. \nSaw worlds that man had never seen before, \nThe hand of superstition soon prepar\'d \nFor him a dungeon, and debar\'d his view \nFrom those celestial orbs that round us roll. \nGenius has found in prejudice a foe \nTo her sublime research, in ev\'ry age. \nThen let our theorist be fully heard. \nTill we can prove his doctrine is absurd. \n\n\n\nAMERICAN MINSTREL. 131 \n\n\n\nTHE FIRST OF MAY. \n\nSTANZAS WRITTEN FOR THE PUPILS OF A SCHOOL IN PHI- \nLADELPHIA, ON THEIR EXCURSION INTO THE \nCOUNTRY TO GATHER FLOWERS. \n\nAurora smiles \n\nThrough shady wilds. \nThe morning bright and fair, \n\nAnd Flora breathes, \n\nFrom shrubs and trees, \nHer fragrance in the air. \n\nThe gems of dew \n\nAre held to view, \nOn ev\'ry smiling flow\'r; \n\nAnd cheerful lay, \n\nFrom leafy spray. \nEnchants t^ie rural bow\'r. \n\nThe snow is lost, \n\nAnd chilling frost. \nNo longer now prevails ; \n\nThe streams unbound, \n\nSpread gladness round, \nAnd ships display their sailt:. \n\n\n\n132 AMERICAN MINSTREL. \n\n\n\nThe landscape shines, \nWhere Schuylkill winds, \n\nAnd youthful crowds so gay, \nFrom school released, \nWith joy increased, \n\nSalute the passing day. \n\nNow dance and sing, \nFor lovely Spring, \n\nDisplays her blooming train ; \nAnd girls and boys \nMake prattling noise. \n\nAs they her tributes gain. \n\nYe sportive throng. \n\nTo you belong \nLight joys unmixed with woej \n\nWhile garlands bloom, \n\nWith rich perfume, \nAnd choicest incense flow. \n\nAll regal crowns \nShall meet our frowns, \n\nTo them we ne\'er can bow; \nBut crowns of flow\'rs. \nFrom our own bow\'rs, \n\nMay grace the youthful brow. \n\n\n\nAMERICAN MINSTREL. 133 \n\n\n\nTHE CLOSE OF LIFE. \n\n\n\nAs glowing lustre from the source of day, \nIs lost as evening\'s spreading shade appears ; \nSo is the glow of life\'s meridian day, \nSoon lost amidst the wintry waste of years. \n\nBut like the sun, when spreading fairest rays, \nTo clear the skies of dark and cheerless gloom ; \nA virt\'ous life when led in wisdom\'s ways, \nMay cast a smile of glory round the tomb. \n\nThen let the days of youth with virtue shine. \nLet Education raise the mental pow\'rs; \nThat days well spent may cheer our life\'s decline, \nAnd beam benignly on our latest hours. \n\n\n\n134 AMERICAN MINSTREL. \n\n\n\nTHE DREAM. \n\n\n\nWearied with earth\'s unnumbered cares I lay, \n\nMusing upon the destinies of man, \n\nTiH Morpheus prest his fingers on my eyes, \n\nAnd sleep stole o\'er me like a summer cloud, \n\nAnd shut the light of reason from my mind. \n\nBut still I rode on mem\'ry\'s broken car. \n\nWhere\'er imagination chanc\'d to guide. \n\nI first was led to scenes of early life, \n\nMid hills and rocks, and vales and gliding streams. \n\nThen on the icy surface of a pool, \n\nWith skates bound to my feet, I cours\'d around, \n\nAs in my youthful days I oft had done, \n\nAmbitious to excel the sportive throng ; \n\nTill the smooth crust gave way, and down I went. \n\nI then the fancy\'d death of drowning felt ; \n\nBut still I saw the fishes round me play, \n\nAnd slimy eels like serpents to me clung. \n\nBeneath the ice a sluggish current bore \n\nMe, gently, to the outlet of the pool. \n\nThen an impet\'ous torrent forced me on, \n\nO\'er cragged rock?, until I reached the sea. \n\nAs on the ocean\'s bottom then I roam\'d, \n\nJ saw the waving verdure of tiie deep, \n\n\n\nAMERICAN MINSTREL. 135 \n\n\n\nSaw coral groves and forests round me rise, \nAs through the watVy world I made my way, \nCer mazy streets, pav\'d with the shining pearls. \nAll forms of shell-fish lay upon the ground : \nI saw the finny monsters chase their prey, \nAnd oft the sharks with open jaws appear \'d \nReady to seize me in voracious ire. \nBut still I wander\'d through the liquid v/aste. \nAbove I saw the ships, with sails unfurl\'d. \nGliding majestic through the rolling waves. \nA gloomy darkness next began to spread ; \nThe heaving ocean spoke a dreadful storm. \nAnd by the billows was I thrown around. \nUntil an angry surge against a cliff, \nThat rear\'d its rocky summit to the sky, \nThrew me aloft : As broke the mountain wave, \nI rose amid the spray, and reacli\'d the moon. \nThen through the lunar fields I made my way, \nTravers\'d the seas, and saw unnumberM isles, \nSurvey\'d her side that earth had never seen. \nI then ascended to a mountain*\'s brow. \nAnd as I stood upon the dizzy height, \nA dread volcano bursting from below, \nLaunch\'d me again into the sea of space, \nThrough which 1 travelled till I reached the sun. \nAnd there stupendous wonders caught my view, \nLandscapes that glitter\'d in eternal day, \nAnd hills and dales with fadeless verdure clad, \n\n\n\n136 AMERICAN MINSTREL. \n\n\n\nSpread round their charms, and fill\'d my soul with joy. \n\nBeings unlike to mortals here below, \n\nBut more exalted, walk\'d the solar plains. \n\nPlanets that owe allegiance to the sun, \n\nI saw afar in the cerulean waste ; \n\nThey mov\'d around, but shown as twinkling gems. \n\nAnd the mysterious comets swiftly sail\'d. \n\nIn awful grandeur, round the source of day. \n\nWhen in their near approaches to the sun. \n\nMyriads of beings rais\'d their loud huzzas, \n\nThe sounds of salutation echo\'d round. \n\nTill the receding worlds were distant far. \n\nBut while my fancy visited the sun. \n\nThe sun to me his usual visit made. \n\nWith cheering beams. For in the blaze of day \n\nMy slumbers broke \xe2\x80\x94 I found it was a dream. \n\n\n\nAMERICAN MINSTREL. 137 \n\n\n\nTHE RAINBOW, \n\n\n\nAs the show\'r is passing from us, \nSee the splendid bow of promise \nRich in ev\'ry brilliant hue, \nPurple, orange, red and blue ; \nAs these colours join together. \nShine the token of fair weather. \nRain and sunbeams now combining. \nForm the arch with splendour shining, \nWhence the bright prismatic dyes, \nAre reflected to the eyes. \nWho but loves to view the pow\'r \nOf nature in the summer show\'r, \nWhen the forked lightnings fly, \nAnd the thunders shake the sky ; \nAs the dark\'ning cloud retires, \nAnd the angry blast expires ; \nThen the milder zephyr brings, \nCool refreshment on its wings. \n\n\n\nM \n\n\n\n138 AMEKICAN MINSTREL. \n\n\n\nTHE KISS. \n\n\n\nCan warmer emotions of rapture be giv\'n \nTo man, from the mutable sources of bliss ; \nTo lend for a moment a foretaste of Heav\'n, \nThan that which proceeds from an innocent kiss, \nWhen sweeten\'d with love. \n\nCould one choose for himself any kind of delight. \nThat would please him for ever, his choice might be \n\nthis \xe2\x80\x94 \nTo feel pure affection by day and by night, \nAnd ever be cheer\'d by the joys of a kiss. \n\nProceeding from love. \n\nThe heart that is fill\'d with purest desires, \nAnd lingers with hope on an angel-like miss, \nFinds icicles mingled with Venus\' fires. \nWhen meeting a frown in obtaining a kiss \n\nFrom one that he loves. \n\n\n\nAMERICAN MINSTREL. 139 \n\n\n\nON LEAVING NEW YORK \n\n\n\nFOR THE WESTERN COUNTRY. \n\n\n\nThou pride of our land I now bid thee adieu, \n\nAnd o\'er thy fair haven depart ; \nThy charms will remain ever fresh to my view, \n\nThy children be dear to my heart. \n\nEmotions of sorrow encumber my breast, \nI breathe out my heart\'s dearest sighs, \n\nAs I take the last look of thy smoke clouded crest, \nWhere thy spires point into the skies. \n\nWhenever in regions remote I shall stray, \nRecollection will bring to my mind, \n\nThe days I have spent on the verge of the sea, \nAnd the objects I now leave behind. \n\n\n\n140 AMERICAN MINSTREL. \n\n\n\nENIGMA. \n\nT race the mysterious wonders of the world, \nH old up to view the finest works of art, \nE xtend research ; you\'ll not my equal find. \n\nA source of light and intellectual joy, \nL ! here on earth to bless mankind I dwell. \nP lac\'d oft upon white ground, in black I stand \nH igh are my pow\'rs, tho\' devils with me deal. \nA long time have I serv\'d the human kind. \nB y me when used aright, much good is done ; \nE xalting man, and guiding him to Heav\'n ; \nT hough oft I kindle rancour, pride, and strife. \n\nANOTHER. \n\nMy form is quite noble, my conduct is good, \nWhen travelling I\'m eating and drinking ; \n\nMy drink is all water, I feed upon wood, \nA stranger to feelinjr and thinking:. \n\n\n\nAMERICAN MINSTREL. Hi \n\n\n\nTHE VICTIM OF ADVERSITY. \n\n\n\nRemote in a rural, romantic retreat, \n\nResolv\'d on retirement and rest ; \nContentment set bounds for a while to my feet, \n\nAnd calm\'d all the cares of my breast. \n\nA bank overshaded with branches of trees. \nWhich shone in a crystalline flood, \n\nAfforded a scene for retirement and ease, \nAnd offer\'d a tranquil abode. \n\nA mansion though rudely constructed, appear\'d \n\nWith peace and simplicity blest ; \nEnliven \'d the scene, the lone valley chcer\'d, \n\nAnd seemed the asj^lum of rest. \n\nIn soft charms of grief faded beauty array\'d, \nA maid sat beneath the green bow\'rs. \n\nWhich ofter\'d a shelter and also a shade, \nBespangled with wild blooming flow\'rs. \n\nM 2 \n\n\n\n142 AMERICAN MINSTREL. \n\n\n\nHer voice was so sweet, so enchanting her smiles, \n\nHer eyes beam\'d such heavenly fire, \nI felt the emotions of love for a while, \n\nEnkindle the purest desire. \n\nWe talk\'d of the wide-spreading plains of the west, \nThe mountains, the lakes and the streams ; \n\n\'Till sleep unexpectedly sunk me to rest, \nAnd fancy enliven\'d my dreams. \n\nBut when I awoke from a tranquil repose, \nSerene were the moments that flew ; \n\nBy feasting on dreams I\'d forgotten my woes, \nAnd fancied each fiction was true. \n\nI listen\'d to hear this Encb^mtress relate, \nSome things that sunk deep in my breast ; \n\nAnd wish\'d her to tell me what merciless fate, \nHad thrown her rero,ote in the west. \n\nIn sorrowful accents she quickly reply\'d, \n\n" In silent seclusion I find, \nBeyond the dominions of splendour and pride. \n\nRelief and solace to my mind. \n\n" My father remov\'d from the banks of the Seine, \n\nWhen Jacobin fury was high ; \nAnd found a retreat in tlie bosom of Spain, \n\nNor thouifht his destruotion was niffh. \n\n\n\nAMERICAN MINSTREL. 143 \n\n\n\n" \'Till fiends of infernal delusion combin\'d, \n\nTo clothe their religion in blood : \xe2\x80\x94 \nIn bigoted fury destroy\'d human kind, \n\nAnd said \'twas to glorify God. \n\n" My father, alas ! fell a prey to their rage, \n\nIn prison he breath\'d his last breath; \nBorne down with distress in the noon-tide of age, \n\nTo repose on the pillow of death. \n\n" We left the religious assassins of Spain, \n\nAnd sail\'d for the sea-circled Isles, \nIn the western expanse of the tremulous main, \n\nWhere summer eternally smiles. \n\n" We landed on Hayti ; there fix\'d our abode. \n\nAttended with plenty and peace : \xe2\x80\x94 \nRemote from war\'s clangour, from carnage and blood, \n\nOur comforts began to increase. \n\n" But all our fair prospects of bliss were o\'erclouded, \n\nA merciless banditti rose ; \nMy morning of life was then suddenly shrouded, \n\nIn horror\'s dark mantle of woes. \n\n" We left our dear Island \'midst carnage and blood. \nWhich spread like the tornado\'s roar : \n\nWinds wafted us over the waves of the flood. \nTo towns on the continent\'s shore. \n\n\n\n144 AMERICAN MINSTREL. \n\n\n\n"The face of Columbia we fondly explor\'d, \nAnd saw many mansions of bliss ; \n\nBut nothing wo found was design\'d to afford \nFor us a retreat from distress. \n\n\n\n\xe2\x99\xa6\' From Maine to Missouri, from thence to this land\xc2\xbb \nWhere breathes the warm tropical gale, \n\nWe travell\'d to see the wide regions expand, \nUntil we arriv\'d in this vale. \n\n\n\n" Where wild blooming blossoms spread round me their \ncharms. \n\nAnd minstrels enliven the bow\'rs ; \nBut here recollection rekindles alarms. \n\nAnd preys on my lone pensive hours. \n\n" Near where the Ohio rolls forth its fair flood. \n\nWe stopt at request of my mother ; \nBut merciless savages thirsting for blood, \n\nTook, tortur\'d, and murder\'d my brother." \n\nHaving spoke thus, a tear from her heart\'s sad emotion, \n\nMeander\'d and fell on her breast ; \nHer eyes, tho\' as bright as the pearl of the ocean, \n\nProclaim\'d she was deeply distrest. \n\n\n\nAMERICAN MINSTREL. 145 \n\n\n\nBe consol\'d, nor let sorrow encumber thy heart, \n\nI said to this Angelic fair; \nFor anguish and sorrow their flame may impart. \n\nAnd kindle your grief to despair. \n\nWhen carnage encrimsons the earth\'s fairest shore. \n\nDepriving the people of breath ; \nAnd vultures and wolves reap the harvest of war, \n\nThink not you\'re alone in distress. \n\nTho\' desolate orphans may sigh to the winds, \nThat wafted the groans of their sires ; \n\nBelieve that a merciful Heav\'n designs \nSome future reward for their pray\'rs. \n\nWhen furious tempests tear up the wide ocean, \nWhen whirlwinds and hurricanes rise, \n\nWhen elements rage in tumult\'ous commotion. \nThink God is as good as he\'s wise. \n\n\n\n146 AMEKICAN MINSTREL. \n\n\n\nVISION OF LOVE. \n\n\n\nIn rosy bow\'rs, and fair sequester\'d vales, \nEvastus oft his tales of love had told; \nAnd fair Jacintha oft invok\'d the gales \nTo breathe his welcome, and her mind unfold. \nBoth felt emotions tender, warm, and pure. \nNor thought their earthly bliss was insecure. \n\nTill base detraction of a female tongue, \n\nWas spread around with more envenom\'d breath, \n\nAnd sweet Jacintha, blooming, fair, and young, \n\nEvastus left ; she sought the arms of death. \n\nHer whom he long had wish\'d to make his bride, \n\nHe sought no more ; her heart soun broke \xe2\x80\x94 she died. \n\nTruth came too late his mind to reconcile ; \nBut truth reveaPd, increas"d his love and ire ; \nHe curs\'d the slandVous wretch so base and vile, \nWho fill\'d his breast with quenchless flames of fire. \nJacintha\'s name dwelt on his mournful tongue ; \nHe oft in tears her plaintive requiem sung. \n\n\n\nAMERICAN MINSTREL. 147 \n\n\n\nWhere the Potomac\'s limpid waters flow, \nAnd mountain cedars shade Ihs rocky steep ; \nAnd branching- elms o\'er-arch the stream below, \nHe oft repair\'d in solitude to weep ; \nFor sighs and tears assuage the storms of grief, \nWith gloomy joys, and give the heart relief. \n\nOne sultry day, when wearied and oppressed, \nEvastus sought the cool, secluded shade. \nConsoling slumbers calmM his troubled breast, \nAnd fancy\'d joys his real griefs allay \'d, \nA glowing vision led his soul away. \nThrough boundless regions of eternal day. \n\nFrom earthly scenes on wings of joy he flew, \nFree from attraction of the orbs that roll\'d, \nAnd reached the fields that open\'d to his view, \nWhere other suns diffuse their raj\'^s of gold : \nThere met Jacintha with a blissful train. \nWhen love\'s warm passion feast their souls again. \n\nCelestial walks, adorn\'d with heavenly flow\'rs, \nGuided their steps to fountains and to shades, \nWhere dewy fragrance wet the embrosial bow\'rs, \nAnd threw enchantment round their promenades. \nNo lying spirits strove to break their love, \nFor all is peace and harmony above- \n\n\n\n148 AMERICAN MINSTKEL. \n\n\n\nSweet was their converse of eternal things, \nEvastus thought not of departed tears ; \nUnnumber\'d angels, born on glitt\'ring wings, \nSent thrilling sounds to his delighted ears, \nHis eyes beheld with joy each glowing scene, \nHe saw savannas wave immortal green. \n\n" In those blest regions, ever bright and pure," \nJacintha said, " thou must not long remain ; \nWhy didst thou listen to that syren\'s lure ? \nAnd fill my heart with misery and pain ; \nGo to the earth, your mortal form renew, \nThen die for me as I have died for you. \n\n" Your soul divested of its mortal clay, \nWill fly beyond the earth\'s encumbent air ; \nAnd gain these regions of celestial day, \nAnd dwell with me in mansioois bright and fair. \nOur blissful union of immortal love. \nAngels will chant in all the choirs above." \n\nAs thus those words Jacintha mildly said, \nThe scenes of glory vanished from his sight; \nA sudden darkness o\'er his vision spread ; \nBack to the earth he made his cheerless fjght. \nAnd as deep sighs his fancied pleasures broke, \nTo life\'s realities he then awoke. \n\n\n\nAMERICAN MINSTREL. 149 \n\n\n\nErastus rose, he pray\'d for sudden death ; \nTowards the Heavens he gaz\'d in wild surprise, \nAnd as he felt the tempest\'s angry breath. \nSaw lightnings glare, and clouds obscure the skies ; \nThen called on Jove to spare the mountain\'s crest, \nAnd hurl his thunderbolts against his breast. \n\nBut Jove regarded not the suppliant\'s cry, \nAnd threw his lurid lightnings in the air ; \nThe storm was spent, the angry clouds past by. \nThe humid rainbow shone sublime and fair ; \nAnd as the evening came, with mind opprest, \nErastus found his home, but found no rest. \n\nAs through his passing days Jacintha\'s name, \nIn mournful accents dwelt upon his tongue. \nHe seem\'d regardless of his mortal frame ; \nLong grew his beard, his locks neglected hung ; \nTill death reliev\'d him from the pains of love. \nAnd cheer\'d his spirit with the joys above. \n\n\n\nl60 AMERICAN MINSTKEL. \n\n\n\nTHE CONFLAGRATION. \n\n\n\n\'Tis midnight now, and all retired to rest, \nSave those who guard the city\'s calm repose ; \nThe piercing wind is breathing from the west, \nFrom regions wrapt in winter\'s frost and snow&. \n\nBut hark ! methinks I hear the cry of fire ! \nYes 1 and the bells the awful tidings sound ; \nIncreasing tumults echo through the air, \nFrom engines hurrying o\'er the frozen ground. \n\nAs thousands start impatient from their beds, \nSee I see I how soon the crackling flames arise ; \nThro\' night\'s dark gloom the redd\'ning lustre spreads, \nAnd gives an awful grandeur to the skies. \n\nAdjacent buildings now are wrapt in flames, \nThe wind increasing fans the spreading blaze ;: \nThe fire has seiz\'d the roofs, the floors, the frames, \nAnd falling timbers clouds of cinders raise. \n\n\n\nAMERICAN MINSTREL. 15 1 \n\n\n\nThe works of years are borne in smoke away, \nLeaving their ashes level with the ground ; \nWhere lofty mansions stood so grand, so gay,\' \nThe crumblino" walls and embers now abound. \n\n\n\nThe lab\'ring engines throw the streams in air, \nUpon the raging fire the waters flow; \xe2\x80\x94 \nFrom winding hose the gushing floods appear, \nAnd check the raging element below. \n\nThe flames grow dim, the fire at length subdu\'d, \nThe wintry clouds no more are tinged with light, \nNow desolation, gloom and solitude, \nTheir empire hold beneath the shades of night. \n\n\n\n152 AMERICAN MINSTREL. \n\n\n\nTHE CAVE. \n\n\n\nWhere rocks on rocks in awful grandeur tow\'r, \nAnd seem to scowl indignant o\'er the stream ; \nA darksome cave, beneath a shady bow\'r, \nInvites my mind to solitude serene. \n\nThough night eternal in this Cave prevails, \nAround those rocks reflecting beauties glow ; \nWhere fragrant flowers perfume the breathing gales, \nAnd shine inverted in the waves below. \n\nRound this dark Cave enchanted scenes appear, \nWhene\'er the eye is stretched in prospect wide, \nWhere distant hills their broken summits rear, \nAnd with their shadows streak the gleaming tide. \n\nMust I, alas ! forsake those sylvan bow\'rs, \n\nWhere round the rocks the spreading limbs are twin\'d, \n\nIn distant lands to waste my pensive hours. \n\nAnd view those wonders only in my mind. \n\n\n\nAMERICAN JTINSTIiEL. \n\n\n\nCould I from all the cares of life retire, \nAnd yonder cottage be my last abode; \nFrom thence to this lone cavern oft repair, \nTo muse in silence o\'er the Ohio\'s flood : \n\nAmbition then should never haunt my breast, \nNor make me restless with her wild alarms ; \nBut as the evening calms the world to rest. \nAll cares should yield submissive to those charms. \n\nWhen far from this lone cave my feet shall roam. \nAnd other scenes before my view appear ; \xe2\x80\x94 \nSerenely musing in poetic gloom. \nImagination oft will lead me here. \n\n\n\nN 2 \n\n\n\n154 AMERICAN MINSTREL. \n\n\n\nWESTERN SOLITUDE. \n\n\n\nSTANZAS WRITTEN AT THE MOUTH OF THE OHIO RIVER. \n\nFrom the shore where the waves of the Atlantic ocean \nRoll rudely beneath the soft sea breezes\' sigh, \n\nTo the wilds of the v/est where floods are in motion, \nI\'ve wander\'d o\'er mountains majestic and high. \n\nBut here are no mountains romantic and airy. \n\nNor grove-crested hills to o\'erlook the v/ide plains ; \n\nAnd the swamps all around me seem dismal and dreary, \nAnd dark gloomy Solitude silently reigns. \n\nIn a land wrapt in shade since the dawn of creation, \nWhere forests o\'ershadow Columbia\'s wide breast ; \n\nRemote from the scenes that excite animation, \nI mingle my notes with the gales of the west. \n\nWhile I roam the lone shore which the dry trees encum- \nber, \n\nWhere grape-vines and briars and green rushes grow, \nMy friends in yon vessel unconsciously slumber. \n\nWhere glides the Ohio, smootli, limpid and slow. \n\n\n\nAMERICAN MINSTREL. 155 \n\n\n\nBut yonder\'s a cottage surrounded with willows, \nTlie emigrant\'s cabin of unpolish\'d joy; \n\nThere cool zephyrs glide from the fresh water billows, \nAnd those who are humble no cares can annoy. \n\nThen let me be humble, nor ask for the glory \nThat title and grandeur to tyrants impart ; \n\nBut feel some delight as T breathe out my story, \nIn fancy\'s effusions which flow from the heart. \n\nAs the beams of the sun, which is slowly descending. \nStill linger with smiles on the regions above. \n\nRecollection retraces the bliss once extending \n\nThrough youth\'s bright delusion of friendship and love. \n\nBut to yonder margin I quickly shall wander, \nTo see the rude torrents tumultuously flow ; \n\nO\'er the deep Mississippi awhile let me ponder, \n\nO\'er waters which glide from white mountains of snow. \n\nLike eternity\'s current of time swiftly rolling, \nThe stream of this monarch of rivers appears, \n\nWith the objects upon its rough surface unfolding, \nLike men passing off in a torrent of years. \n\n\n\n156 AMERICAN MINSTREL. \n\n\n\nDark waters here roll from majestic Missouri, \n\nCold tears that are shed from the regions of snow, \n\nLike the tides of adversity mingling with sorrow, \nTo plunge all our joys in the ocean of woe. \n\nBut let not my mind be disturb\'d with emotion, \nI\'ll traverse the streams to the Mexican shore. \n\nAnd there may the winds that glide over the ocean, \nConduct me to happier regions once more. \n\n\n\nAMERICAN MINSTREL. 167 \n\n\n\nSTANZAS \n\nWRITTEN IN A REMOTE PART OF LOUISIANA. \n\nYe wide spreading plains most enchantingly fair, \nEver gay and bespangled with flow\'rs ; \n\nAre all that I here can find pleasing or dear, \nSave the wild blooming thickets and bow\'rs. \n\nUnsocial, and boorish, and rustic and rude. \n\nAre the people who dwell in this land ; \nWith no fond desire for improvement endow\'d, \n\nNor wish that the mind should expand. \n\nAs through this lone region I pensively stray, \n\nBut transient my joy, or my home ; \nLike the wild warbling bird as it flies from the spray, \n\nThrough other wide regions to roam. \n\nBut Hope the enchantress spreads round me her smiles, \n\nWhich bright in futurity glow ; \nShe pictures an Eden in wastes and in wilds. \n\nAnd calms the emotions of woe. \n\n\n\n158 AMERICAN MINSTREL. \n\n\n\nWith fanciful visions enlivens my breast, \n\nMy poetic reveries cheer ; \nAs I roam o\'er the gay rosy plains of the west, \n\nOr wood-lands dark, dismal and drear. \n\nBut soon may I fix my abode in some place, \n\nFrom the wilderness regions afar ; \nIn social enjoyment my days then I\'ll pass \n\nOn life\'s rolling ocean of care. \n\nThen ever farewell to the wide spreading plains, \nSavannas and forests and streams, \n\nWhere no lofty structures nor art lifted fanes. \nEnliven the halcyon scenes. \n\n\n\nAMERICAN MINSTREL. 159 \n\n\n\nRURAL RETIREMENT. \n\n\n\nYe tranquil scenes where nature smiles. \nIn weaving groves and leafy bow\'rs ; \nHow oft in your sequestered wilds, \nI\'ve spent with joy my pensive hours. \n\nHow blest is he whose mind at ease, \nIn rural scenes receives delight ; \nAnd finds that life has charms to please, \nIn morning walks, and dreams at night. \n\nWhat fond delight to wander through \nThe dewy fragrance of the morn ; \nWhere nature holds her charms to view. \nIn orchards, groves and fields of corn. \n\nWithin the meadows fresh and fair, \nWithin the clover-fields so gay ; \xe2\x80\x94 \nAlong the brooks that glitter there, \nI love to pass my hours away. \n\n\n\n160 america:^^ minstkel. \n\n\n\nTo set beneath the coolhig shade, \nNo books about me I desire ; \nI read on nature\'s verdant page, \nWhen from the city I retire. \n\n\n\nAnd who but feels his bosom glow, \nWith zeal, devotion, joy and love ; \xe2\x80\x94 \nIn reading nature here below, \nThe mind is rais\'d to Lhinsrs above. \n\n\n\nHow blest the farmer at his toil ; \nPeace and abundance round him spread ; \nHe guides the plough, \xe2\x80\x94 inverts the soil. \nThat his own fields may yield him bread. \n\n\n\nAnd when from labour he retires. \nNo splendid poverty annoys ; \nAs joyous round the social fires, \nHe sees his prattling girls and boys. \n\n\n\nHow vain are all the cities charms. \nWhere fashion throws around her hue \nTo what we find upon the farms; \xe2\x80\x94 \nThe smiles of nature fresh and pure. \n\n\n\nAMERICAN MINSTREL. 161 \n\n\n\nLove, peace and friendship when combin\'d, \nCan give the soul an Heavenly rest, \nAnd elevate the human mind. \nAnd cheer the care corroded breast. \n\nOh ! could I live in tranquil bliss, \nFrom noise and tumults far retire ; \nIn rural scenes find happiness, \nWhile warm\'d with meditation\'s fire. \n\n\n\n162 AMERICAN MINSTREL. \n\n\n\nTHE SAILING PARTY. \n\n\n\nThe vessel thfong\'d with social friends, \nNow cleaves the liquid plain ; \n\nAnd Heav\'n its cheering breezes lends, \nTo waft us to the main. \n\nThe shores we pass are drest in green j \nHow rich are nature\'s charms! \n\nThe azure sky adorns the scene\xc2\xbb \nNo clouds excite alarms. \n\nThen pass around the cup of joy, \n\nAnd throw all cares away ; \nLet jocund mirth our time employ, \n\nOn this delightful day. \n\nAs onward we our course pursue, \n\nWe leave the land behind ; \nOn ev\'ry side a shoreless view \n\nWe now begin to find. \n\n\n\nAMERICAN MINSTREL. 163 \n\n\n\nThe bright resplendent orb of day, \nFar in the west has roll\'d ; \n\nThe restless billows of the sea. \nReflect his beams of gold. \n\nA calm now o\'er the deep prevails. \nThe dolphins round us play ; \n\nNo wind to fill the drooping sails, \nNor drive dull cares away. \n\nBut lo ! beneath the western skies, \nThe gathering clouds appear ; \n\nSee, see, the angry storm .arise, \nThe distant thunders hear. \n\n\n\nThe sun is hid behind the clouds, \n\nAgain we feel the gales ; \nWe hear them murmur through the Bhrouds, \n\nAgain they fill the sails. \n\nThe lurid lightnings round us glare, \n\nThe rain begins to pour ; \nThe spray is drifted through the air, \n\nThe thunders loudly roar. \n\n\n\n164 AMERICAN MINSTREL. \n\n\n\nNow joy is turn\'d to chilling fear, \n\nAll wear a palid hue ; \nAnd sad and gloomy all appear. \n\nExcept the vessel\'s crew. \n\nThe angry storm is passing by, \n\nWith terrors truly grand ; \nAnd yonder beacon blazing high, \n\nInvites us to the land. \n\nThere let us pass the night away, \n\nIn light romantic dreams \nOf mermaids waltzing on the sea, \n\nWithin the moon\'s pale beams. \n\nOf Syren\'s voices sweet and clear. \nThat soft enchantments spread ; \n\nBy which the ocean\'s pilgrims near. \nAre on the breakers led. \n\nOf Tritons, who, with sounding shells. \n\nGive music to the deep ; \nAnd bind the waves in magic spells. \n\nTo let old Neptune sleep. \n\n\n\nAMERICAN MINSTREL. 165 \n\n\n\nTYRANNY OF WEALTH. \n\n\n\nLo ! yon proud fool, with cares of wealth opprest. \n\nWith ceaseless labours to increase his store ; \n\nHis dreams of loss disturb his nightly rest, \n\nWith ev\'ry sigh he breathes a prayer for more. \n\nA prayer for what the wise do oft deplore, \n\nFor mental joys are strangers to the soul \n\nOf him whose God is form\'d from shining ore ; \n\nWhose heart yields not to sympathy\'s control. \n\nBut dwells with stupid pride, where\'er his treasures roll. \n\n\n\nWealth, with its potent arm, with tyrant sway, \nBears down the feeble with its magic pow\'rs ; \nTriumphant vice, pursues its fearless way, \nWith those who riches gain in golden show\'rs ; \nWho in licentious revels spend their hours. \nAnd oft oppression\'s fruits around display, \nin mansions, gardens, and their blooming bowers ; \nThey see no charms in nature rich and gay, \nFor languid, sickly cares a sullen gloom portray, \no 2 \n\n\n\n166 AMERICAN MINSTREL. \n\n\n\nHappy are those with competence and peace, \n\nWhose honest labours give them health and joy ; \n\nWho see domestic comforts still increase. \n\nAs they the means of doing good employ. \n\nAnd feel no vain desires of wealth annoy ; \n\nFor virtuous minds a sweet contentment share ; ^ \n\nForeboding ills cannot their bliss destroy; \n\nDeath the consoling sister of despair, \n\nThey view without alarm, because their ways are fair. \n\n\n\nAMERICAN MINSTREL. 167 \n\n\n\nVIEW FROM THE CATSKILL MOUNTAIN. \n\n\n\nOn the top of a vast and stupendous pile. \nWhere heaven\'s pure breezes delightfully blow, \nOn a rock, let me rest from fatigue for a while, \nAnd cast round my view o\'er the landscapes below. \n\nA prospect unrival\'d before me now shines. \nGroves, hills, fields and valleys their beauties display, \nNear which the fair Hudson majestic\'ly winds. \nReflecting with lustre the bright orb of day. \n\nIts bosom now grac\'d by the white swelling sails. \nWafting commerce and wealth o\'er the chrystalline \n\nstream ; \nAnd palace-like vessels regardless of gales, \nAre drove thro\' the tide by the impulse of steam. \n\nAs the eye travels east it may rest on a scene, \nWhere nature\'s vast monuments rise to the view ; \nFor there the white mountains and those we call gre.en^ \nThrough distance are veil\'d in a mantle of blue. \n\n\n\n1G8 AMi;piCAN MINSTREL. \n\n\n\nThe num\'rous projections that rise in the west, \nAppear like the waves that the ocean displays, \nWhen the mist of the morning hangs light o\'er its breast, \nReflecting but faintly the sun\'s cheering rays. \n\nBut here on those heights where Aurora first smiles, \nSoft music and mirth now enliven the soul ; \nRefinements and social delights cheer the wilds. \nIn regions beneath which the thunder-clouds roll. \n\n\n\nAMERICAN MINSTREL. 169 \n\n\n\nFAIRMOUNT WATER WORKS \n\nNEAR PHILADELPHIA. \n\nWhat richer prospects can this earth afford, \n\nThan here is offered to delight the eye. \n\nFrom this high summit where the basin stands, \n\nThe groves, the hills, the vales, the sloping lawns. \n\nThe fountains, pools, and cataracts appear. \n\nMeand\'ring Schu\'ylkill rolls its glitt\'ring stream ; \n\nAnd on its bosom num\'rous vessels move. \n\nBridges whose arches o\'er the river stride, \n\nGive grace and grandeur to the scene below : \n\nWhile Beck\'s high tower,* where flows the melted lead, \n\nRising in simple majesty appears. \n\nUp the smooth stream the eye delighted roves. \n\nAlong the shady banks with verdure clad. \n\nThere bowers of Pratt around his mansion bloom. \n\nDiffusing sweets and rich botanic charms. \n\nEastward a splendid city meets the view. \n\nThe eye can rest on turrets, domes, and spires, \\ \n\nOr roam where art has heighten\'d nature\'s charms \n\n* Shot tower on the banks of Schuylkill. \n\n\n\nJTO AMERICAN MINSTREL. \n\n\n\nIn mazy walks of Smith and M\'Arann,t \nWhere shrubs and plants invite the social throng. \nMore to the north a prison\'s gloomy walls, \nDisplay the lofty battlements and towers. \nA Chinese temple, rising high in air, \nUnlike all other structures in our land. \nWith pendent bells, and most fantastic form, \nOverlooks the scene ; \xe2\x80\x94 gives grandeur to the view. \nRound this Pagoda thousands show their zeal, \nAnd pour libations to the god of wine. \nThe weary pilgrim, as he worships here. \nFrom liquid spirits inspiration feels. \n\nA flight of stairs now favours our descent, \nAnd down the rugged precipice we go. \nNow see the pondrous wheels revolving round. \nTo force the water up the rocky steep. \nSee fountains throw in air the misty tide. \nAnd the bright Iris form\'d with liquid gems. \nSee the Canal along the other shore. \nWhere jolly boatmen blow their sounding horns. \nSee foaming waters falling o\'er the dam, \nWhich charm the ear with an incessant roar. \nHere social throngs both day and night appear, \nAnd music, beauty, love, enrich the scene. \n\nt The celebrated ffardens of Smith and M\'Arann, \n\n\n\nAMERICAN MINSTREL. 171 \n\n\n\nFUTURE PROSPECTS \n\n\n\nOF THE UNITED STATES. \n\n\n\nHail happy States ! where peace and plenty reign ; \nWhere plains prolific spread around their smiles ; \nWhere mountains rise ; where winding rivers roll ; \nWhere lakes and seas the spreading sails display ; \nBlest be those climes I the bond of union blest. \n\nWhat glowing prospects burst upon the ruind. \nAs fancy flies beyond some future years ; \nAnd travels o\'er our country\'s wide domains 1 \nStupendous works of art adorn the land; \nVast cities smile where now tliey\'re scarcel}^ known. \nThe lakes and seas connected by canals, \nOn ev\'ry wave float wealth and treasures round ; \nAnd groves of masts adorn the peopl\'d shores. \nThose western tracts of wilderness and shade, \nAre seen no more ; no savage haunts are found. \nBut cities, towns and hamlets grace the land. \nAnd gardens, orchards, fields and meadows glow \nIn rural charms. Where forests now abound. \nFrom quarries unexplor\'d shall structures rise, \nAnd halls and crov.-ded porticoes be seen, \nWith columns sculptured by the hand of art. \n\n\n\n172 AMERICAN MINSTREL. \n\n\n\nOn those rude mounds, the works of ancient years, \nRais\'d and constructed by barbarian hands, \nShall fanes appear ! and sacred altars throng\'d, \nWith pious suppliants. And music flow. \nIn chiming anthems from the house of God. \n\nOn all those rivers of the western world, \n\nWhich nought but Indians\' fragile barks have borne, \n\nShall vessels of majestic form and size, \n\nPass up and down ; and scatter through the land \n\nThe choicest products of remoter climes. \n\nThen shall Columbia spread her glory round \n\nEach distant land, where\'er her children roam, \n\nAnd all the states and kingdoms of the earth, \n\nWith envious eyes, shall see and own her pow\'r. \n\nHer ships of war will thunder o\'er the main, \n\nAnd proudly wave her starry banners round \n\nOld Neptune\'s foaming realms; and show afar, \n\nWhat vast resources lie within those states, \n\nWhere Freedom reigns ; where now from nature\'s hand, \n\nRich bounties flow, and Heaven benignly breathes, \n\nUnnumber\'d blessings on the Western world. \n\nWhat proud advances does our land display, \nThe gloomy wilds yield to the hand of toil. \nAnd equal rights the breasts of men inspire, \nWith warm devotion to their country\'s cause. \n\n\n\nAMERICAN MINSTREL. 173 \n\n\n\nTIME. \n\n\n\nSay, what is time ? of which in mournful strains, \n\nPoets have sung, and with a secret awe. \n\nSome people mention as a dreadful thing ; \xe2\x80\x94 \n\nA great detsroyer, with corroding hands ; \n\nAnd dust of ancient cities on his wings. \n\nCrumbling the proudest monuments of art, \n\nAnd spreading death through nature\'s boundless range. \n\nAsk the bright orbs that travel through the sky, \n\nThey mark his progress, and his flight sustain ; \n\nAnd witness bear, that time no more destroys, \n\nThan it creates, for nature still the same, \n\nIn ev\'ry age, shows her prolific pow\'r. \n\nWe only know eternity by time, \n\nAnd time we know by consciousness of things \n\nThat move, and act within the mortal view. \n\nEarth\'s choicest products, through the lapse of yejlr* \n\nResolve to dust, to water, and to air; \n\nFrom these again new forms of life arise, \n\nAnd scatter beauties on the stream of time. \n\n\n\n174 AMEEICAN MINSTRJEt. \n\n\n\nWhen years more iiuraTous than the blades of grass. \n\nOn all the fertile regions of the earth. \n\nWith countless nations shall have pass\'d away\xc2\xbb \n\nTime will be measurM by revolving orbs, \n\nAnd matter with vitality appear. \n\nYoung animated forms will still arise, \n\nTo fill the places of departed things ; \n\nFor nothing can restrain creative powV,- \n\nNor tire with labour tlie Eternal hand. \n\n\n\nTHE F.^iV, \n\n\n\nERRATA . \n\nPftge 4, eighth line, iorfeel, read feels. \n\n35, space between 9th and lOth lines, should be \n\nbetween 10th and 11th. \n63, last line but one, for yet, read ye, \n70, last line of fourth stanza, for o^er tops o\'er tops, \n\nread o\'\'er tops. \nJ46, for Evastus read Erastus, \n\n\n\nnrT -^f^ 1945 \n\n\n\n'