l^t^^tS*<^^^^^^-^^?\\^ ,-.-..„oi\ .. ...>\ ...N^, i) iSi^ j M :MM i iiaaSiiSSa.Jl^ LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. m^ *.. Copyright, 1883, by H. M. BIEN. T f In place ERRATA. consequence of the great distance from the author to the of publication, the following errors remained uncorrected : 38, line 9 read: -'Chasidim" instead of "the Chasi- dim." " That parents " instead of "And par- ents." "and there" instead of "and then." "concocted rash" instead of "con- cocted " " "concocted rash" instead of "con- cocted." " " curst " instead of " cursed." " curst " instead of " cursed." "was bereft a mother" instead of " mourns her lost — a mother." "a yearning mother " instead of " be- reft a mother." " moans " instead of " mourns." "Rest in peace! all" instead of " Reste in pace." add dash after " Ghetto." read " Till its abode, if " instead of " Until its abode." 38, 46. 49- 57. 52, 54, 78, ' 78 78 79 125 132 19 16 16 9 7 7 15 16 7 14 15 f tmts^m^ \ 0^. I - ^L * ' TO /IRs (Benerous Subscribere WHO HAVE SO KINDLY ENCOURAGED ME TO COLLECT THESE STRAY RHYMES OF MY LEISURE, AND TO THE INTELLIGENT READING PUBLIC AT LARGE, ALL OF WHOM WILL, IT IS HOPED, PATIEIITLY BEAR WITH THEIR MANY DEFECTS, THIS VOLUME IS RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED. CONTENTS. Proem, " ORIENTAL LEGENDS. The Birth of the Heart ii The Creation of Man, 15 The Creation of Woman, ig Paradise Lost and Regained 22 The First-Blown Rose 25 Solomon's Judgment, . . . . , . .28 King and Prophet, 32 JOCHANNAN BeN SaKKAI, 36 The Best and the Worst 43 Dog, Horse, and Hog, 46 Redeemed, 47 Aqua Vit^ ; Or, The First Delirium Tremens, . . -49 Torture (monologue from Drama " Genius "), . . 58 The Accepted Pledge, 59 STREET PICTURES. Street Pictures, 65 LYRIC TRIFLES. Sonnet, In Memoriam — Adolph Cremieux, Life-Senator of France, Judge Not, Condemn Not, . . . Think of It, In Memoriam — William Cullen Bryant, Necrodulie — Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, The Dead Rabbi — Rev. Dr. Max Lilienthal, 77 78 79 80 82 83 84 vl^x CONTENT^. The Song of the Jeweler, . Adieu, Adieu ! I Gave thee Up, To THE Memory of a Departed Friend, Nil Desperandum, I Think of Thee, I Think of Thee, To Love and be Loved in Return, To Love in Vain — What Agony ! . Song (from the Drama "Genius"), Song (from the Drama "Samson"), . Fourth of July, i86i, .... PAGE 87 90 92 93 94 95 96 97 OTHER POEMS. Yah ! Yah ! . . . . lOI Bankrupt, .... 109 \ ( Sunset on Mount Davidson, . 112 r Ticonderoga Centennial, "5 \ 1 Serious Mistake, "7 \ Washington's Judgment, "9 . \ The Whitewash-Brush, . 122 ^ 1 Neir Tomid, .... 124 t Febrile Frenzies, . 130 \ i'j The German Volunteer (1862), 141 i A Court Scene, 143 ^ L Remorse, 147 \ Never, Never, Never ! . 148 \ A Centennial Poem — 1876, 150 \ f The Collector's Wife, . 153 I The Russian Exile, 157 The Orphan Asylum in Vienna, 163 1 1 The Origin of the Diamond, 166 Uriel da Costa, 168 A Doctor's Panegyric, . 171 f An Appeal to America against Sec pari; vn a :jitat ions 176 h EPITOMA judaica. Dedicatory Address v. ^^' ( \\^'^ m ORIENTAL LEGENDS. -S"' '^.r i if) / /lave read yoiir various '■^Oriental Legends" with great interest and pleasure. — H.W. Longfellow. €i.. ^^ PARADISE LOST AND REGAINED. Forlorn and bewildered, and all in despair, Stood, weeping and moaning, the desolate pair. Now Adam exclaimed loud : " From Eden drove hither, Where shall we find comfort? go whither — oh ! whither ? " And Eve on his bosom did pitiful cry : "Alas! disobedient and sinful was I." As thus they lamented, the angel felt sorry To see them thus troubled, to hear them thus worry ; '! And slowing the swing of his glittering blade, In mildest of accents he unto them said : "Bewail your apparent misfortune no longer; Subihission and patience make all of us stronger. " Resign ye the loss— by God it was planned. Now make you an Eden yourself! Understand, No matter how poor and no matter how wealthy ; No matter how suffering, ill, or how healthy ; " No matter the distance, condition, or time, And spite of all hardships of seasons or clime ; "T^ ' ":> i—i ^rii i ORIENTAL LEGENDS. No matter what Providence fates for to-mor- row, Come tears or come smiles, come joy or come sorrow ; " Wherever you wander and whither you roam. Your Eden you'll find where you build up your home — A home filled with quiet, with peace, and con- tentment. Without the arch-temptei, the serpent Resent- ment; " A home which is filled with the purest of love. With best gift of Eden — the trust in Above." So spoke the kind cherub ! They listened as- tonished ; In heart and in soul they felt strong, thus ad- monished. Thus regained for man is, by angel's advice, The Home ! May God bless it — ^the lost Para- dise ! From th' East to the West, by all nations des- canted. The song of " Sweet Home " will forever be chanted. \ v^ I ■» J^IJVG AND PROPHET. III. Crowned and sceptred sate In the temple's gate David as judge — in Hebrew, " Shofet." He and the people behold, In dignity of old, Nathan, the aged seer and prophet. U \ Cries : '*' Whom wrongs aggrieve Justice must receive, King ! — for this are kings appointed. List, then, to my case, Heartless, vile, and base. And redress it, Lord's anointed ! IV. " Sire, there lives within thy realms One whom fortune ever favored, But, though wealth him overwhelms. Greedy, he has never wavered To envy his poor neighbor's share — An only lamb, his love and care. 4 iU'^ 11 1^ m ^^ ^tJ' ORIENTAL LEGENDS. " Guests came to the miser ; hence, Spite remonstrance, spite of tear, He forthwith, on some pretence, All that to the poor is dear Kills ; the cherished pet it died. Sire, thy judgment I abide." Wild with indignation cries David, rising : " Here I swear The villain who hath done this dies ; Let his goods the pauper share ! " " King ! thou art that man ! " the seer Answers. " Be accursed for e'er ! " V V. Ah ! Death spares not youth and never minds age; A beggar he smote on the street, and since He gathered a fool and garnered a sage, And from David's palace he snatched him a prince. The stricken parents stand by the corse. Lamenting and weeping in anguish and fear; Royalty harrowed with deepest remorse. His eyes overflowing with tear upon tear. But all at once a sudden impulse Comes o'er the father; he kneels by his dead. The heart which revolted, his feverish pulse, Grow quiet, and upward his gaze is led. Resigned, he folds his hands and prays: " Heavenly Father, deign list to my word : Sinner I am, and just are Thy ways. Yet deal with me merciful, Lord, O my Lord ! " The prophet, behold { he stands by his side And bids him arise, for God commands. Curses are powerless when we confide In Providence ; trustful raise hearts and hands. W P I U Exalted the king and consoled he became, Exclaiming these words immortally graced ; " The Lord hath given and taken ; the name Of the Lord forever and ever be praised ! " i . ^l^' REDEEMED. REDEEMED. ARABIAN TALE. A YOUTH there lived whom Fortune, oft called blind, Gave all her precious gifts of form and mind, With such a noble heart as only can Make Heaven's fair image of a mortal man. And everybody eagerly pretends To love him — all profess to be his friends. Alas! this changed. Into temptation's power He fell, and sinned in an unguarded hour. If keenest agony atones, then sure Heaven hath received his contrite heart as pure. But then our hypocritic, callous world Its verdict, "Guilty," quick upon him hurled. Each finger points at the condemned; all eyes Frown on him, humiliating, worldly wise. For consolation to his mates he flees ; They knew him only in his luck and glees. One recognized him — ah ! with such a face As showed the great and condescending grace; ORIENTAL LEGENDS. O'erwhelms him — fie upon it ! — with the price Of shamming friendship, so-called good advice. Next his affianced love bade him to go, Inflicting on his heart most crushing blow. Faint, writhing and convulsed^ damned and decried. To his parental roof he homeward hied. Report, the ever-busy, meddling dame, Who circulates and magnifies our shame — She went before him. On the threshold stands His aged father, stern, with trembling hands; He bids him, " Hence ! I've lost my son," be told: " As his did mourn the Patriarch of old. As Jacob wailed his loved Joseph's doom, Uncomforted I'll go into my tomb." The youth drops staggering ; but in fond embrace Is caught, and kisses deck his death -pale face. With tears they're mingled, and the cry sobbed wild : " Oh ! can a mother e'er forsake her child ? " Both kneel. The father, too, no longer stands Unmoved ; he lifts and wide extends his hands, -3- \fj. ^^%n '^_^ ^, '^n i AQUA VI T.^. And blesses them in pious, good old ways. " My lost is found again ! " he mildly says. Thus was one, else from sin to crime depraved A suicide, or worse, redeemed and saved By that great power, equalled but Above — A mother's tender and undying love. AQUA VIT JE\ OR, THE FIRST DELIRIUM TREMENS. KNOW ye the antique record how erst into this world The direst of all curses, King Alcohol, was hurled ? And how the Fates avenged it in body, heart, and soul On him who first concocted th' intoxicating bowl ? The night was dark and chilly, the storm made heaven weep. While all but crime and suffering were wrapt in dreamful sleep ; 6 i u^ i ^L i ^^^ ' ^L-^ ORIENTAL LEGENDS. Then in his laboratory — yon subterranean space — An Alchemist wrought miser)' e'er since upon our race. \ Around, rich candelabra pale ra^s, blue tinted, shed ; The hoarv, pensive student has leaned his withered head Against a solid column of cross bones, skulls, and books, While on a burnished hour glass he has bent his anxious looks. All treasures life doth offer he sacrificed as naught ; His golden locks untimely are bleached by ceaseless thought. For day and night he's pitying into forbidden lore ; He fain would solve the mystery, that death should be no more. And hark ! the dome serenely aloud proclaims the time. Twelve peals the echo vibrates like some weird, ghostly chime ; r^ip AQUA VITAi.. With its last sound the student is hastening to and Iro, A beverage to distil and b(jii above the em- bers' glow. 'Tis the decisive moment — the midnight hour. On high He lifts a brimfid goblet, and spills some droj)S thereby ; The flames are whirling, whizzing, while caba- listic words lie mutters, and strange signs describes, and hell and heaven girds. The fire transforms its colors, a halo of sweet light In which are bands of angels enveloped fair and bright ; And strains of solemn music, breathed like ^^olian strings. A monitor of good, these words the choir sublimely sings : " Touch not, lift not the poisonous cup ! Taste not, drink not a single drop ! Man's life is dark. Yet breaks a spark t I' V ' / / » J 52 ORIENTAL LEGENDS. Into his future, decked by night ; Faith with strong wing, And Hope the eternal beacon-light, From death its sting, from death its sting Long since did sever ! This is true blessing ; oh, beware ! Whoever durst Attempt to 'scape his mortal share, He shall be cursed ! forever cursed ! " Then dies away the music and pales again the fire, But in his breast burns fiercer the student's wild desire : He fills anew the goblet with bold, defying mien, The flames stirred up take human form, dark as the night has been. Satire and wile and cunning are twinkling in his e3'es ; Thus must have looked the tempter when in the snake's disguise. The student even trembles and utters loud a shriek. But " Silence ! " bids the spirit ; he thus is heard to speak : 1 \^ \i JQC/A VITM. " Man ! know thy father's name is lust, Thy mother's baptized weakness ; They glare to Heaven, but the dust They'll share in perfect meekness ; And their begotten offspring's fear, On Hope's sweet bosom nourished. Led to Religion's taming bier, A germ dead ere it flourished. 'Tis thee! 'tis thee I like them thou diest, If thou not, brave and bold, defiest Those hands which chain thee to death's brink, Then drink! drink deep ! drink ever! drink!" And with satanic laughter the phantom dis- appears. The Alchemist is startled ; his blood and brains and tears Seem melted as by fire ; he loud and wildly laughed. The goblet then defiantly he emptied in one draught. Without, the storm is raging ; each angry thunderbolt Hurls flash on flash of lightning — a nocturnal black revolt ; ORIENTAL LEGENDS. Then sad through night and weather sound like a dying moan These words into the student's ear again, in plaintive tone : " Whoever durst Attempt to 'scape his mortal share, He shall be cursed ! forever cursed ! " The draught thus won at midnight, consumed, its power reveals, And, like a newly-born one, revived the old man feels ; At last, then, his ambition, the ideal ot his strife, He gloriously now has attained — th' Elixir of human life ! Thenceforth he has continued to mix, boil, and produce The Alcohol ; to his pupils he taught its make and use ; And with the new discovery all o'er our globe they went — To castles, churches, down into the hungry beggar's tent. ■ •■l ' ^^ - ^^ AQUA VIT^. So time passed on. Yet never trom the de- cree of fate Can one escape; for certain it cometh soon or late ; And thus, too, found the student his final, di-eadful goal. 'Tis midnight. Hark! what screams and yells through storm and thunder roll! W It wakes from sleep the people, it rouses old and young ; Unto the laboratory bewildered masses throng. And they behold with terror what man ne'er saw before — The first " Delirium Tremens " there, on its most hideous score. The ground, a raging maniac, his limbs in terror smite : Lo ! from his lips and nostrils break flames of purple light : He 'gainst the block of granite his skull con- vulsive throws. Until his blood, from gashing wounds, with brains mixed, fatal flows. V ORIENTAL LEGENDS. Thus died he, and was buried — none knows his grave or name, But still the curse eternal has been his awful fame. Where'er his poisonous beverage, the Alco- hol, was sent, It sounds, from church and castle down to the hungry beggar's tent. Widows, orphans, nations — all curse the hid- eous deed. As mothers do and fathers whose hearts were made to bleed ; And children will, while hungry, and crying loud for bread ; The noble, good, and pure — all curse the memory of the dead. Well known is yet, however, the laboratory, where The dram was first discovered ; 'tis still sold \ I freely there. The subterranean workshop has now been modernized — Yon bar-room 'tis, across the street, so much by drunkards prized. ii r AQUA VIT^. 57 They are the student's pupils, who nightly congregate, That they in drunken revels his doom per- petuate : For when they stagger homeward, sidis sense, and none be near, Then it is said the maniac's ghost doth nightly there appear. Through all the evolutions of the delirium he Must pass, a horrid spectre, till daylight sets him free ; And God in Heaven only will pardon his offence When the last inebriate takes the vow of to- tal abstinence. This is the antique record, how first into the world The direst of all curses, King Alcohol, was hurled : And thus the Fates avenged it in bod}^, heart, and soul On him who first concocted th' intoxicating bowl. ►S- 58 ORIENTAL LEGENDS, TORTURE. MONOLOGUE FROM DRAMA " GENIUS. THE Buddha tells a tale which runs this wise : Ci"uel demons will mischievously at times Select a human being for their pranks. They grant him all the gifts of which are woven The precious jewel, mortal happiness : They grant him cruelly all but one ; that one Which forms the culmination-point and centre Of every other — the power to secure. His prize flits by him, never near* enough, In spite of all his efforts, to be grasped. They starve the hungr}^ victim 'midst of plenty ; They parch the thirsty lips in sight of foun- tains ; They freeze the heart in midst of vernal sun- shine ; They scorch the fevered brains in iciest winter, Until the gods in mercy interpose W THE ACCEPTED PLEDGE And grant him the possession of the price Of all his direful, undeserved suff'ring, Or move him from such power to higher spheres. THE ACCEPTED PLEDGE. THE B'douin's keen-edged cimeter is As cruel as lion and tiger are. He'll slay the men, enslave the women. But never has in peace or war His blade defiled By blood of child, For surely cursed were he and his, Dared he to brave the mythic lore Which every Arab knows and fears When Allah he heeds and dreads no more. Thus runs pathetical the story : When his ancestral kindred saw Themselves released from Egypt's bondage, Came unto Sinai for the law ; Heard was a cry ' ORIENTAL LEGENDS. " What hostage will these people give My revelation and commands That they will cherish and obey, If I shall place them in their hands?' Then in the council of the nation, The prophet great, the elders wise. They offered memories hallowed, Progenitors in Paradise. Historic claims, The sainted names Of Abram, Isaac, Israel ; But not sufficient were these deemed. Birthright does not avail in Heaven: Each one must be himself redeemed. f ' In second council of the people They all unanimous agree To turn bond one unto another, Themselves be their own guarantee. This sacrifice Would not suffice. For they were told in language plain, " You are unworthy and untried — Men who proved stiff'-necked and uncouth. Already have the laws defied." ■ ss^sm^s^^k wm ^^^^- fUlBE 'i ^ l g ^— ^ * M[. ' THE ACCEPTED PLEDGE. A third time then they met together, " What can we offer loved and dear Which unreserved will be accepted Without a doubt, without a fear ? What is the best, All pure and blest, Such as we cherish more than life, By which our hearts and souls are swept? Our children let us offer ; sure These Justice certain will accept." And so it proved ! The bond thus given Abundant was, as well it might. The young and future generations. On Sinai pledged for law and right. In every clime. Unchanged by time, Were sacred held by friend and foe. None with impunity may wrong The children ; by this solemn act, Unto High Heaven they all belong. I ORIENTAL LEGENDS. WINE. A TALMUDICAL PARABLE. WHEN God the grape created, every vine He with a triple tincture fructified — With blood of lion, ape, and that of swine. Which in the ripened juice three proper- ties supplied : Drink once of wine, and you'll feel strong- and bold. Combative, brave, without discrimination ; You fancy strength increased a thousand-fold, A sovereign king of all the animal creation. Now drink again, and you are jolly, glad; You sing — it sounds like braying of a donkey. You jump and laugh and caper ; maudlin gad, Behaving like unto a veritable monkey. Now drink once more — you'll lose all self- control. You can no longer rant, but mumble, mutter. Unable on your feet to keep, you roll And wallow like a hog, low grunting in the gutter. '^ i u^ ■ ■ STREET PICTURES. Into a passionate, heaven-invoking prayer ; And now his heir He brands " the drunkard's child ! " Once his ambition soared for highest fame, The pride of all his friends awhile ; He long ago in rum drowned hope and name. Delirious most, of reason near bereft, All for him left Is but a lunatic's exile. How came this doom to pass ? take heed ; come, come, Young friends, be warned, imbibing host! In an unguarded moment he met some Hilarious company — ^drank once — he fell And, clutched by hell, Forever he was lost. ^1 Hence, hence! I'll lead him home! Our pic- ture will O'er all the world encountered be ; Till church and school unite 'gainst bar and still. True civilization trembles all afear, And drops a tear On man's depravity ! , U^ . H I '^ M rfr^ STREET PICTURES. ^%.i II. Right through tlie middle of the street, In rain or sunshine, storm or sleet — Most with bundles, with coffers some — That's the way our " greenhorns " come. The women are buxom, and strong the men- German or Irish, no matter; when They touch the ground of this free Land, Re-born are all in heart and hand. Settling soon 'midst friends near and dear — There are no stranijers among: us here. Though some become servants and " help " for a time. None are made slaves but committers of crime. Open to all is the area of wealth — Open to all the sources of health. Thus many c poor one few 3^ears ago came, Who now. has attained high position and fame. 'Tis so with the emigrant women of now ; "Lis'le" becomes a fat Dutchman's frau ; Bidd}^ is married unto her old beau — And that is the way our " greenhorns " go ! STREET PICTURES. \v } III. Please give me a penny ! I'm luingiy and cold! My mother at home is sick and old. Please give me a penny ! My father has Been in prison for weeks, alas ! He had no work, and we had no bread ; And he wished himself and all of us dead. And then he drank liquor — it set him wild ; And he struck poor mother and me, his child. When first I visited him in the cell He huo^ored me so close and with such a yell ! And he cried and sobbed, and sobbed and cried, 'Midst kiss and caresses I had to chide. So give me a penny, if you think meet, Wherewith to buy bread for mother to eat. Say you, sir, all this money is mine ? Thank God and bless you ! — it pays father's fine. V STREET PICTURES. I need not beg to-night any more ! We shall be happy as we were before And all in return I can offer to give, You I'll remember as \ox\z ^s I live. IV. V Through all the town, 'midst clatter and din, Cries loud a voice : "Ho! who will buy sin?" Buy sin in most hideous, repulsive guile — ■ Woman abandoned, degraded, and vile ; And, as she wanders to and fro. Proclaiming: "Society made me so!" Society, boasting of virtue sublime, Vet pressing us creatures into crime ; Building churches, all velvet-pewed. Yet making her daughters debased and lewd ; Sending the children t(3 Sunday-school, Then throws them into a fiery pool ; Society- dancing for charity's sake, While lives are perishing, souls are at stake ; Robbing the masses wholesale, and then Gives them a penny to starve in a den ; Boasting enlightenment, science, and art, While hunger and ignorance never depart; With all the progress but for the rich; For the rest aye misery, prison, and ditch ; Society, meaning the moneyed folks. While secret she fun at poverty pokes ; Marshaling 'gainst virtue the glitter of wealth ; Cursing the wanton she maketh by stealth. If I Will ye who are guiltless now cast the first 1 stone I On outcasts, who. Heaven grant, may yet I- atone ? ►E- .i.r.,t».>au^._.i..^,P.M^.i^u^w... «i^^..^P^:ir^ ■STREET PICTURES. While all through the town, 'midst clatter and din, Cries loud a voice: "Ho! who will buy sin ? " Buy sin in most hideous, repulsive guile- Woman abandoned, degraded, and vile ; And, as she wanders to and fro, Proclaiming: ''Society made me so!" V. On the first floor in the parlor A lass, all youth and glee, Sits, by her beaux surrounded- Young Southern chivalry. Under her window the orsfan A one-armed soldier grinds ; The scar across his forehead Of battle hot, reminds. !^^^«^H=S« y\ STREET PIC T URE S. 73 Those up ill the parlor are laughing; They bask in comfort and ease, While, shivering, the invalid freezes — A Union-defender in peace. The girl leans out of the window And throws him a coin from her hand " Take this ; and now, old beggar. Come play us ' Dixie Land ! ' " But through the open window He hurls the money back; Then tighter the crank he clutches, While slowly making track. And fast and fierce he's grinding The tunes of the boys in blue- AU-conquering " Yankee Doodle," And " Hail Columbia " too ! A man across the corner Has watched the curious scene ; He knew the maimed, brave fellow- Had his commander been, 9 y. „i^ »^ i ^V I STREET PICTURES. "Well done, my noble comrade!" And brightly shone his eyes ; "Thou shalt find home and comfort!" He with emotion cries. " Here, take my hand as token : Long- may the Union wave ! " His word has broken never — His general true and brave ! y^ ... ^ -^ — (^ LYRIC TRIFLES. -&' \^ \ > X SONNET. DISSONANCE and Harmony combined Form that sweet music which unlocks our soul And makes the ear feast under its control. Thus is the heart, too, touched, if we can find The poet's song, conveying to our mind Word music. Alternately should roll The tears of woe and anguish copious flow- in o" Dissolved by sparkling wit and joy all glow^- My songs were culled in such varieties Of wine and love, intrigue and merry glees. Alas ! I hear the living and the dying Cry loud for help and see all the degrees Of misery in all its stages. Denying Me all — but dissonance and gyrating melodies. ^ LYKIC TRIFLES. IN MEMORIAM. ADOLPH CREMIEUX, LIFE SENATOR OF FRANCE. YISGADAL w'yiskadash!* The Hebrew's mourning- prayer — Resounds in temple and synagogue ; For Time, the cruel sla3'er, Laid fatal hand upon a chief. All Isr'el is in tears and grief. As Rachel mourns her lost — a mother — We Cremieux mourn — our brother. Yisgadal w'yiskadash ! Religion feels extending, Wherever people worship God, The woful loss, heartrending. Alike for Gentile and for Jew A great man left us — good and true. Religion, like bereft a mother, She Cremieux mourns— our brother. Yisgadal w'yiskadash ! Law, Justice loud are wailing. Oppressed of every land and clime May well feel faint and failing. 1 * " Be exalted and sanctified." The beginning words of the Hebrew prayer for the dead, called " Kadish." JUDGE NOT, CONDEMN NOT. For Freedom lost one of her stays When death cut short his mortal days. Truth sorrows like a stricken mother Cremieux is dead— our brother. Yisgadal w'yiskadash ! Humanity in anguish " Reste in pace ! " trembling weeps, Nor soon her woe will languish. For God hath stilled a human heart In which the whole world had a part. Humanity, our common mother, Weeps Cremieux ! — weeps our brother! JUDGE NOT, CONDEMN NOT. T UDGE not, condemn not ! Men who I are accused *- Often are guiltless and cruelly abused. Error is quick, restitution comes slow ; Be not foremost the first stone to throw. Time enough, time enough guilt to de- plore ! Judge not — wait till the trial is o'er! 8o LYRIC TRIFLES. Often appearances tend to betray, Often passions our judgment sway, Often is innocence foully assailed — Truth is naked, while falsehood is mailed Honor once taken you cannot restore. Judge not — wait till the trial is o'er I Ere the fair fame of a brother you doom, Ponder as if you stood over his tomb; I Dip it in kindness, steep it in love ; Handle it tenderly— think of Above ! i* Judge not, condemn not! 'twas bidden ol i yore. ■i: . . . . , ^ Judge not — wait till the trial is o er. THINK OF IT. THINK of it ! our joy and sorrow Of the present, of the morrow, Love and hate, and hope and fear, Friends afar or e'er so near, All must die to live ! — 'tis writ. Think of it, Oh ! think of it. THINK OF IT. Think of it! then let no trouble E'er attempt its share to double. Think of it, and let no joy Time of more importance c\oy. All must die to live!— 'tis writ. Think of it, Oii ! think of it. Think of it ! for all affection Cannot stay its deep deflection ; Nor may hatred at the best Tmie in his due course arrest. All must die to live!— 'tis writ. Think of it, Oh! think of it. Think of it!' when fearing, hoping— We're not e'er in darkness groping. Those afar or e'er so near Think of it and never fear: All must die to live!— 'tis writ. Think of it, Oh ! thmk of it. LYRIC TRIFLES. IN MEMORIAM. WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT. WEEP, nation of America — mourn, all the world! A man whose fame around humanity is furled, A great, good man, is dead! His life had been anointed, A bard and seer, by the hand of God ap- pointed ; His words and thoughts and deeds harmo- nious pearled As one great poem, most sublimely wrought and jointed, A never-dying song contained in this syn- opsis — The ever-living, the immortal " Thanatopsis ! " Thy native country, thy beloved fatherland. For one like unto thee who all revered, departs. Has but one Pantheon ! It must be beauti- fully grand To be enshrined forever in loving, human hearts. l u^ i ii ^^f^*- ■*"I?C^ THE DEAD RABBI. His was the battle for knowledge awd truth ; A man of the sturdiest, grandest, and best — A laborer and sage In our time and age. His was the struggle for right and light. To set the oppressed and bonded free ; To teach to his people, advancing the world : " Nearer, my God, to Thee, nearer to Thee." »( 1! As time shall roll on they'll erect him a shaft Of bronze or Carrarian marble white. With golden letters it will hold inscribed His life and death so pure and bright. But needed are scarcely the metal or stone — The task he achieved shall time defy ; For thought is immortal and mind has no end, And Love, Hope, and Charity never will die. Invisibly kept, Are tears sadl}' wept ; The ache of the heart and the anguish of souls Exist for eternit3% floating on. Until humanity's mission is reached And earth and time their work have done. LYRIC TRIFLES. A life thus completed, a labor thus wrought, A goal thus achieved which divinely was born, A day thus closed and an eve thus begun, Must have after nightfall again a morn. There must be a waking from such a dream ; There will be a rising after such sleep. Nothing in nature does really die : The world shall not mourn forever and weep. Ah, sorrow no more ! It was wiitten of yore: " The dust shall return unto mother earth, But home the Lord our souls will call." The name of the righteous shall ever be blessed — Then rest in peace, Rabbi Lilienthal. ,.n^ » rif^ m, ^ m, THE SONG OF THE JEWELER. 87 THE SONG OF THE JEWELER. A BALLAD. I'VE been commissioned to make this thing— A wedding-ring-, a wedding-ring ; And while I melt and mould this gold My lay is short and quickly told. The maid to wear this band so fine — She loved me, promised to be mine. It is the story old as time, Rehearsed in prose and sung in rhyme : Since he is rich and I am poor. She now forsakes me, perjured sure. Into this crucible I'd rhelt The pangs I feel, the pangs I felt. It is the hardest work, I con, I'll ever do, I've ever done; The sadder all, that with this ring I'd pray, that happiness it bring. No matter, though, how hard my fate, All scorn and hate, all scorn and hate. Within my heart they take their flight If she'll this circlet cherish right. LYRIC TRIFLES. God bless the ring-, the sign sublime! My hammer and my anvil chime! And " Amen " shall my true love say To-morrow on her wedding-day. ADIEU, ADIEU! I GAVE THEE UP. A DIEU, adieu! I gave thee up With bleeding heart and quiver- ing soul, And from a blasted hope this drop — A tear, I'm not ashamed of— roll. Yes ! thou wast very dear to me ; I happy dreamed to be with thee. Thy and my fate I but bewail That thou should be so fair and frail, And that I loved, one more loved never, And now must give thee up forever. ^ \\i i/-,'^ ■c^ \.j A ^ TO THE MEMORY OF A DEPARTED FRIEND. 89 TO THE MEMORY OF A DEPARTED FRIEND. WHOEVER was able unraveling life, With all its great joy and great sorrow, With all its ambition, loves, hopes, and strife And the cares we borrow? When barely begun we end our career To "leave love, hope, and ambition here. Whoever was able unfathoming death, Who comes 'midst tears and heart-aching ; Closing dear eyes and quenching loved breath, No station forsaking ? The rich and the poor, the lowly, the great, Are equally meeting the certain fate*. 'Tis all a blank mystery, all wrapt in night ! With only this high consolation : Humanity, goodness, love, honor, and right, Our immortal creation. Like Heaven eternal, like God, know no end ! Requiescat in pace ! xwy noble, good friend. II ►E- -3- \ I^SS SSB LYRIC TRIFLES. NIL DESPERANDUM. I. THE poorest thing on earth to life doth cling ; And I — must 1 despair? My heart is quivering, feverish, in each string 'Tis sore with grief and care. To Heaven 1 stare, Praying sans hope ; the eye filled with a tear — Within the breast a sting — the soul all fear. II. When I was yet a child, Roaming and wild, I often dreamt many a dream so bright, By day and night. But youth has vanished, all dreams are gone, Like bubbles that into thin air are blown. All that life hath brought To manhood wrought Is but ceaseless, fruitless toil And wild turmoil. And this for enough of bread but to reap, To feel the hunger that banishes sleep. I '•' BANKRUPT. Where life was so tranquil, there cannot be room For aught but for hope, love, and faith in the tomb. Rose and magnolia plant over it bright ; On modest memorial this epitaph write : ' Here rests a true woman from Germany, " Yah," Who lived and died blessing America ! ' " BANKRUPT. A PICTURE OF THE TIMES. OUT of the thousands but few peruse ' One petit item, scarce more than a line. Next editorial or telegraph news ; Typed — it is almost for reading too fine — Making report of some business encumber'd, Such as appear now uncounted, unnumber'd. " Bankrupt " it heralds a mercantile firm Somewhere up in a country town. Well, who does care if another must squirm? Old is the story of life up and down ; no OTHER POEMS. But while it seems, ah ! one more bursted bubble, Fathom who can, its heartache and trouble. Suffering- and tears of the man who has failed, One already advanced in years — He who never from hardships has quailed, Never knew selfishness, cringing, or fears. Weary long years he has labored and striven, Building the fortune a moment has riven. ' is Highly respected and honored his fame, Bond made his word with all whom he dealt ; Unquestioned credit attached to his name ; Wealthy and poor a friend in him felt. Wife and children his home happy render — Loving, beloved, kind, generous, and tender. Bankrupt now, and helpless involved ! Caused by the unforeseen crisis ; betrayed Sadly by those whom he trusted; resolved — Honestly facing his doom undismayed — All that he owns in this world, to his lend- ers Scrupulously and fully surrenders. BANKRUPT. Bankrupt ! Now do you know what it is, Blighting one of his sensitive sort? — One who never knew want such as this. One to whom loved ones look up for support; Penniless, houseless, friendless, despairing. Hopelessly into the dark future staring. Look at the contrast ! .Affluence and ease Changed into poverty, actual need — Barely enough common wants to appease. Pride is alone, and that shame, indeed. Left him, that natural shrinking feeling Which from the world his woe is concealing. Winter approaches, and there is no fuel ; Hunger is gnawing, and there is no bread ; Children are naked — O God! 'tis too cruel: An invalid wife confined to her bed. Hark ! How he shrieks ! insane ! How he cowers " Spare them, O Lord ! Upon me fall Thy powers ! " Thus is struck down the cultured, refined, By a commercial tidal wave. Easy the end can be told or defined : Broken, a heart fills a newly-made grave. ^'^^g^^^g^j^^saga^ h '^fmcF OTHER POEMS. Widow and orphans are weeping and wail- ing— Father of Mercy, oh ! be Thou not faihng. SUNSET ON MOUNT DAVIDSON.* 1865. MOUNTAIN-CONE, upon thy summit, where the North wind icy blows, In the dying evening twilight, dying like a full-blown rose, Lingers one beholding wonders more sub- lime eyes never saw : Steep the hillsides, deep the valleys — landscape picture without flaw. Miles above the ocean-level, isolated from the* world. Sterile, only heather growing, and the sage- brush thickly curled — Rarefied, the air can barely breath supply — ^ still here attests Every knoll that human labor ne'er is daunted, never rests. Virginia City and Gold Hill, Nev., lie at the foot of Mt. Davidson \S w SUNSET ON MOUNT DA VIDSON. One decade ere this the Indian roamed alone here, digging root ; Now see palaces of granite dot the country black with soot ; Instead of wigwam and of camp-fire rolls the flame of coal and pines From the mouth of steam- machinery through the densely peopled mines. f As if by a dream created, or as by some magic spell. Roads and houses, hamlets, cities, gird the hill and grace the dell. High up into the Sierra, who the wond'rous sight beholds, Far away to Utah's desert, where the Salt- Lake growls and scolds : Yes, as high as sight will carry, and as low as travel sound. Pick and axe have shaft and tunnel hewn into the rock and ground ; For since Nature, always loving, clothed the surface all in dearth. She has planted richest treasures in the bowels of the earth. •,i, I l u-^ l u^L, * ^ \ ^ i U4 OTHER POEMS. Deep below, the virgin-metal joyous weds with Industry — Thus is close the far off Northland joined to Civilization nigh. People leave their homes and country, flock to places waste and sere — They are coming, coming, coming, spite of hardship, risk, and fear ; Coming like a new migration, traveling on the wings of steam — A reality which shortly seemed but like a maniac's scheme ; Telegraph and locomotive, electric wire and iron track. Modern knights, jumped on the giant, on old Rocky Mountain's back. Every day brings new processions ; thus they pour in file by file ; They find room, find peace and plenty, find a home. Perhaps you smile ; But the watchword of the Nations, worthy of the present day. Liberty's parole is : ''^Ubi bene ibi patria / " * * Wherever I fare well, there is my home |LI^ '"^L ■■^ TICONDEROGA CENTENNIAL TICONDEROGA CENTENNIAL. 1775 — MAY 10 — 1875. * THERE stands many a castle-ruin in other far-off climes. The traveler looks in wonder, reminded of bygone times — Reminded of horror and terror of bonds, and fetters and slaves, ,Of untold tyrant-oppression and despots' un- known graves. How different sounds the story, like song's undying strain, From the Ruins of Ticonderoga, on beautiful Lake Champlain ! The very place is holy, and sanctified each mound ; A monument is each wall-stone, on consecrated ground. It speaks of a Nation rising and hewing in twain its yoke. Wielding a giant's weapon with death-defy- ing stroke. ■ % ri6 THE/? POEMS. r^u It speaks of Freedom's natal, proclaiming in g its throe ^| , The birth of the Republic one hundred years | i ago- . f i. t " /;/ the name of the Great Jehovah ! " was \ 1/ made the stern demand, I % • ■ i ' '■^ And the Continental Congress!'' by Ethan ^ Allen's band. ij;' It opened to the summons, the foreigner moved out, f- While freemen took possession with glorious Yankee shout. Immortal be the story, like song's undying | ,^^ stram — W !( The Ruins of Ticonderoga, on beautiful Lake | I Champlain. () The place be ever holy, and sanctified each i| mound ; I A monument each wall- stone, on consecrated L ground. F? ,Tl^ I — I. SERIOUS MISTAKE. FOR pencil or chisel it would be a scene, Could artist or sculptor but present have been — A tableau that would have established their fame, To paint or to model the ancient dame. Behold her there sitting- in grandfather's chair, Wrinkled and withered, in silver-bleached hair, The spectacles her well-pointed nose squeeze. The family Bible lies on her knees. i And there she reads of the first man's birth, I 'ii How God creates Adam from dust of the ^J earth. i^ But hold ! here she stops ; the page is all 1 done : |_ Over she turns, but two leaves instead one. >^ 9 A -i'1»^ ^^— i "^ra i OTHER POEMS. I Serene she continues, and never does mark This turning has gone in old Noah's new Ark. And thus she proceeds, with voice cracked and thin : " He covered w^ith pitch both outside and in!" Imagine who can her face, mouth, and eyes ! If lightning had struck her from Heaven's blue skies, Bewildered, astonished she could not be more. One jump, and erect she stands straight on the floor. And then she exclaims: "I'm three-score and one, But never did dream how frail we were done. La, mercy ! man made out of dust of the ditch, And ' kivered ' all inside and outside with pitch ! " WASHINGTON'S JUDGMENT. I 1 9 WASHINGTON'S JUDGMENT. A VISION. [1861.] YON, where the Potomac winds its course round Vernon's holy height, I've seen the spirit of Washington rise in my dream at night ; The hero blest, Who stood the test Of trying time, no more can rest ; Aroused by dreadful battle-cry with which his children rave — The sons unworthy of their sires — it woke him from his grave. The Continental chief, he stands, yon on the topmost hill ; His right hand holds the sword high raised, the tears of sorrow fill His eyes ; thus may He've looked that day When foes held o'er the country sway ; When he did life and honor pledge to his own native land, The Father of his country, 'midst that noble, stalwart band — I20 OTHER POEMS. Aye, this, his own, his native land, for which he fought and bled. The pride and glory of our globe e'er since his arm it led ; The hallowed sod With brother's blood Is red, and into dust is trod. That glorious banner 'neath which he, as if by Heaven's power. Victoriously the Delaware crossed, in that self-same hour. America's Constitution ! — this, our modern Bible, torn, This sacred patrimony decked with hatred, guilt, and scorn ; The verdant tree Of Liberty, Beneath whose shadow all were free, Leaf-stripped, and by the dreadful storm which from the Southward blows, Columbia's hero no longer more finds in his tomb repose. Yon, where the Potomac winds its course round Vernon's holy height, ^ »-^ ■ <£. ••^ ■ ^^■^ WASHINGTON'S JUDGMENT. I've seen the spirit of Washington rise in my dreams at night : The hero brave From out his grave, By his own sons dishonored, gave His judgment, awful and serene, like ancient prophecy : That odious, hated, and accursed all traitors surely be. I \ [ I w " Fugitives and vagabonds ! like Cain's shall be their dooms ; Br^.nded and marked like him, free soil shall ne'er contain their tombs ; A by-word and Example stand For coming eras in every land ; Their country's woe, their children's curse, and their ancestors' shame, Thus shall America's history preserve hence- forth their name." * Thus cried aloud George Washington. The morning dawned afar ; Shrill sounded fife and drum, and all the circumstance of war, 15 M 122 OTHER POEMS. I, 'midst the roar, Saw Heavenward soar An eagle who a rattlesnake bore: And then awoke ; but could not help — I thought this dream must be A vision which rebellion judged, like an- cient prophecy. M THE WHITEWASH-BRUSH. THE whitewash-brush, the whitewash- brush, Is higher than Allah, greater than ''Josh"; In letters and science, in commerce and art, It plays its wondrous, powerful part ; Aye ! all its haughty compeers are bosh Compared to the mighty whitewash-brush. Commanded by influence or gold, It is the protector of young and old. Every department of modern life Reeking with wickedness and strife. Society, politics, religion — hush ! They are all safe 'neath the whitewash- brush. I | U^ "»^ THE WHITEWASH-BRUSH. Scandal and gossip, the signs of our time, Petty sin and unheard-of crime, Judge and president, priest and flock, May boldly at public opinion mock ; Whatever the peril, let them rush And hide in the shade of the whitewash- brush. With a few quick strokes it covers shames, Paints all fairly the blackest of names ; Investigation it renders short With a friendly committee's swift report ; \ ^ And behold, instead of the sinner's crush, A coat laid on by the whitewash-brush ! ' All other emblems, then, let us lay down — The cross and the sword, the mitre and ' ' crown ; Nor learning, nor justice, nor faith should miss To take for their standard a sign like this, f Without a scruple, without a blush : f The gilded sign of a whitewash-brush ! '9 f ^ u^ nm L ■'v. ^>.' OTHER POEMS. NEIR TOMID.* A HEBREW LEGEND FROM THE CHRONICLES OF THE CITY OF WORMS. OLD Worms, the Teuton's stronghold, close buckled to the Rhine, Shows yet the massive synagogue with its time-hallowed shrine ; There burn two lamps for ever, the chronicle does state — A most mysterious legend, which they still perpetuate. i'^ And thus* is told the story : It chanced in times of yore, When history its gloomiest fruit of blood and carnage bore ; The Jews were then the objects of hatred and disdain, Denounced by hypocritic priests, by blinded people slain. * Lamps burned constantly in memory of a beloved dead. :^g^s;^^^3^ | u^ mm^ *k ^ l^"- 'JVHI/i TOMID. Fanatics, well supported with superstition's aid, Against Worms' congregation raised a cruel, dangerous raid. " The public wells are poisoned," report first whispers shy ; " The public wells are poisoned ! " soon goes forth the dreadful cry. " They who of old our Saviour with malice crucified Now caused the pestilence by which so many Christians died ; Their Rabbins have been loitering suspi- ciously around, And in their cursed Ghetto are all yet well, and sound." The streets are filled with people e'er ready for a row. " Hepp, hepp ! " * they cry ; and " Kill the \ \ Jews ; they are damned anyhow ! " Into the threatened quarter the raging masses sped ; The frightened outcasts quick into the syna- gogue they fled. '' '' /■ OTHER POEMS. , ■, I Upon their knees are lying men, women, young and old, All weeping-, wrapt into their shrouds, most . awful to behold ; ^ They're solemnly reciting their dismal, dying chants, 'i While for their blood the riot fierce with- ;| out loud cries and pants : | 'I " The cabalists, the criminals, we of your f hands require, J Doomed in the holy Roman realm to death 1 upon the pyre! \| If you withhold our bidding, or to resist ,],' connive, We'll burn forthwith the Ghetto — aye, we'll roast you all alive!" I The elders and the people for counsel quick j combine, % Their hoary teachers praying on before the holy shrine. | Loud sounds their " Sh'ma Israel " * into w each ear and heart ; \ Crowbar and axe outside attempt the door i to break or part. ;| * The leading Hebrew prayer. 'A NEIR TOMID. 127 ^ " These walls are strong — a fortress in this '< our time of need ; Our wives and children we'll defend, and, if God hath decreed, We'll die here with our teachers, like heroes - and like men : ^ Do like the Maccabeans — arm ! arm for re- \ sistance then ! " All rush now to the portals with death- defying will. But hark ! outside the noise subsides ; it suddenly grows still ; The port-bolts give, and by themselves the ! doors are open cast. . Hence flies the startled, boisterous mob ; all V danger, sure, is past. The vestibule is lighted, and unconsumed, ^; like spells, \ The faggots burn, as once the bush of which the Bible tells ; And where the flames lick topmost the pyres in purple sheen. Two aged men are standing firm, by all the people seen. V:/ ^ ^ w | u^ i ^^L ' "*^. ' ^^-' -"^^ly'^a ' OTHER POEMS. They had come, none knew whither, and loudly did exclaim Unto the furious Christians : " Stay ! we are alone to blame ! ■^ Shed not the blood that's innocent ; on us may fall your ire ! " Forthwith the stack is kindled ; they are doomed unto the fire. But lo ! the flame ne'er singes upon their heads a hair ; I" Erect they stand, with upraised hands : their ^| persecutors stare In frenzied consternation unto the awful sight ; And terror smites fanatics wild, who take, confused, to flight. The Israelites, too, see there the miracle declared By which the hour of danger thus has passed and they are spared ; They still cry: " Sh'ma Israel!" Behold, the embers feared Die out at once, and suddenly the two men disappeared. !/4 ' NEIR TOMID. They vanished, none knew whither ; but from that day till now Before the tabernacle were, as a most sa- cred vow, By day and night kept burning — thus is each sexton bid — Two lamps, denominated well the martyrs' " Neir Tomid ! " Old Worms, the Teuton's stronghold, close buckled to the Rhine, Shows yet the massive synagogue with its time-hallowed shrine ; And with its two lamps burning, the chroni- cle does state — This most mysterious legend, which they still perpetuate. f^i FEBRILE FRENZIES. FANTASIA. I. I TOSS abed in fever craze, Clam perspiration decks my face ; And ugly visions rise and strain My burning, throbbing, aching brain. Nor sleep nor wake, as one who dies. Wide glaring, open stand my eyes; And soon in cataleptic throes Methinks are fading hopes and woes. Dim pass away my thoughts and songs, Whate'er the heart loves, fears, and longs ; And, like a fleeting shadow stray. Life ebbs oblivious soon away. The people come, the people go ; Some turn me over to and fro; My body in a coffin crowd, Clean washed, and clothed in linen shroud. ^ ^ U^ 11 ^ *"^ ^^'' A FEBRILE FRENZIES. By usage old, which yet prevails, Six unplaned boards, box-shaped with nails, Is every Hebrew's final share, For beggar as for millionaire. Though many an eye, behold, is wet; Though all feel sorry, still they fret Until the hearse starts off with me Unto the Jewish cemet'ry. But ere with fresh, damp earth all ends. The last sad rites an old man tends ; He lifts the lid, and on his knees Performs most curious cer'monies. According to some ancient code. Half-solemn and half-cruel mode. With fragments of a broken cup The eyes and mouth he covers up. An earth -filled pillow 'neath the head, A taleth * 'round the neck that's dead — ■ 'Tis all according to the form Of mystic, cabalistic norm ; I * The sacred garb used by the orthodox as] cover for head and shoul- ders during prayer. As in the " Book of Life " 'tis writ — Named " Book of Death " were better fit. The ropes are placed, the box let down Into the yawning- grave, afrown. Now men and shovels fill the tomb With clay and maggots, night and gloom. The grubs, I fear, will bring to naught The resurrection we are taught. And curious still, it seemed withal My soul did hover o'er the pall. It would abide on earth and stay Until the corpse is laid away. What next became of it, we'll trust The future may reveal, and must, Until its abode, bad or well, Is fixed for paradise or hell. But, after all, I'm glad to say I died but in my fever. Ay, These dreams and rhymes I gladly give A little longer yet to live. FEBRILE FRENZIES. II. Once more the fever made me wander ; I dreamed another, loftier sight : My soul went to the Hfe that's yonder, Unto the Heavenly portals bright. Yet there, with quick perceptive vision, I noticed a most strange provision : Some side-doors stood ajar ; these portals Were sally-points from whence approach Long-bearded saints, once living mortals, Who on my trembling soul encroach ; And every holy, hoary father His neighbor crowds and tries to bother. And when I made the exclamation : "Who opes the main port unto me?" You should have seen their consternation ! Each one contends that it was he. If I would own their faith and power. My answer made them start and cower : " My faith is God— God, One, Eternal ! " And as the words I uttered, lo ! The Heavens opened ; glory vernal — No mortal comprehends it so — 134 OTHER POEMS. Burst on my vivified conception, A disenthralled soul's first reception. A seraph came, and he conducted Me to the foot of God's High Throne. By him I was forthwith instructed To kneel contrite, demure, and prone. My judgment will, as all announce. The Heavenly Father now pronounce. A voice, awful, sublime, and stately. Spake forth these words — they sound like songs — " My son ! on earth thou suffered greatly. Thou wast a poet — all thy wrongs. Though they were mau}^, are forgiven ; Thou wast an author — enter Heaven ! " The angel my companion, nearing, A password whispered in my ears. Through endless spaces we are steering — For wings had grown me unawares — He led me thus to that collection Inscribed: "The Poet's celestial section." And here he left me as I entered. My goodness, what a sight was there ! — -^^ U^ IW ^^ ^r\ FEBRILE FRENZIES. Soft, rosy light, in which was centered Capacious, but a crowded sphere. Watch held one o'er the golden chapter — He seemed less poet than adapter. "What hast thou written?" he demanded; " The Febrile Frenzies ! " I replied. "Read!" As the manuscript I handed It quickly at my head was shied. He pointed at his stack of writing, From which peered amours, crime, and fight- ing. Were thus, then, all my ideals ending Of song immortal in spirit-lands? As, searching, I my head was bending. In agony I wrung my hands! Such trash in front ! away back hidden The masters, as if here unbidden. Back to the throne of God I fluttered ; Insane I stared and loudly cried : "From Heaven banish me!" — then muttered, " Such a state Above as I descried. I will be damned, in hell be roasted ! " — And then awoke, all wet, exhausted. " OTHER POEMS. III. I had ray wish — it makes me cower — In Hades I was chained to brood 'Midst fire of the wildest power, With flames for garments, coals for food. But still kept up rebellious pondering. Nor murmured, craven, with complaint ; Ne'er minding the caloric thundering, I bore all patient like a saint. Had only not so noisy clamored Vile politicians, priests, and kings. As they were scorched, and pinched, and hammered, Till with their howls inferno rings. Ah ! in the pool of fire eternal I noticed baking heads and hands. To cinders changed all pomp external. Of bank and store, of seas and lands. '\ Oh, what a multitude of errors! I What tigers, once disguised as lambs ! ,1 The pious, trusted, now in terrors ; Aflame pretence, conceit, and shams. \l \l FEBRILE FRENZIES. But once a week, comes Friday even Here, too, reigns quiet, with fare of fish; And unto every sinner given Is then the granting of one wish. Such lesson find in the Agadah, Of high Tahnudic lore and fame ; Yea, Sabbath-pudding,* a panada Comes to each suff'rer all the same. Thus, red-hot, time was quickly flying. Of wings deprived, I had to roast. My wrath calcined ; up went defying, In fire, all anger, pride, and boast. Wheft Friday came around, as usual My old friend seraph neared, and he This time met not with a refusal In offering kindness unto me. On earth I had left dearest kindred, Who must have learned that I was dead. Oh ! that I were no longer hinder'd To soothe their hearts, which must have bled. I ^^ ^LJ-- a^ ^ lli •^ 1 1 M i^ ri : " '! «! OTHER POEMS. I would for once ask the permission Returning to yon mundane sphere ; Could such be done on the decision That I might wing myself from here Therefore I asked if he objected His pinions for a while to spare ? When instantly I too detected They grew upon my shoulders bare. And quick I flew. It needed flying In my old German fatherland. An angel would be law- defying, Were not a passport in his hand. " ' The Lord Himself they would imprison If He committed such offence. So, turning upwards, I had risen And reached my old home-residence. Hark ! Midnight ! every one is sleeping, Except my sorrowing people, who Their pillows drench with bitter weeping, As only parents can and do. | U^ W ^L '* *< « ^^ ' *' -■~^ ^J *— 'ii^'** FEBRILE FRENZIES. Then slowly, softly I fanned slumber Upon their tear-sore, weary eyes. Asleep their heart-aches, cruel, somber, To soothed consoling prayers rise. Low-bending, their beloved features, I saw them, as in years ago. Time, these adored and dear creatures Had kindl}'' dealt with, spite their woe. And now, in accents mild and tender, I whispered in their ears this strain : " Dust all, we unto dust surrender, But by God's mercy meet again ! " Alas ! I meanwhile thought in terror Of my confounded, cruel fate ; Of retribution, sin, and error. I rose again, for it grew late. Poor seraph ! I indeed feel sorry ! Thou wilt not soon behold me more Without, thy wings wilt have to worr};- Below in waiting, sad and sore. 1' ss: Sr9BS -■~'^ ~lJlf » "^ri » 140 OTHER POEMS. Too far on high I rose ; already Had sun and •moon and comets scored. When wide I 'woke, was calm and steady, And fully, God be thanked, restored ! And now that I can calmly ponder. May not our whole theology. Our speculations on the Yonder, Such dreams of fever- frenzy be? Lord ! grant that when we wake hereafter, We fully be restored and well ; That we may mix our tears and laughter On our conceits of Heaven and Hell. % ' THE GERMAN VOLUNTEER, (1862 AMONG the maimed and slaiig-htered 111 the field of fierce contest, One of the dying- soldiers — Shot through and through his breast — Supported by his musket, he Convulsively did rise ; Death rattled in his throat, and loud Yet tremulous he cries : « " I came across the ocean. At home I've been a slave. I fought and die for liberty, And find a freeman's grave ! And if I had ten thousand lives I'd sacrifice them all Ere I would see the Stars and Stripes A prey to traitors fall. ** Adieu, my wife and children Whom I abroad have left ! The God of babes and widows Protect you, now bereft ! siSBSEsa^sssa \i ^u^ t ^L *"^ ^^ ' ^ OTHER POEMS, And when hereafter peace returns, Columbia, ne'er forget That many a sod beneath thy feet With foreign blood is wet. " May Heaven guide this struggle, And keep the country free — On earth the only refuge \S For life and liberty. The Union one forever ! — 'gain On high the eagle soar ! " Thus shouts the German volunteer, And falls and is no more. He saw not, knew not, 'round him Did silently gather then, In deep and sad emotion, General, staff, and men. They bore him on their muskets thence- Brave soldier's envied bier — And buried him on the battle-field ; With many a sigh and tear. ^ v^ w^ L ' *< A COURT SCENE A COURT SCENE. {FROM AN ACTUAL OCCURRENCE.) M AY so it please 3^our honor, my own case I would plead. Assign me no attorney : I have no lawyers need. And, gentlemen of the jury, my words may be uncouth, I'll tell the truth ! — I've sworn — and nothing: but the truth : I've killed the man — I own it; my weapon there you see ; And when you've heard my story you may do as you please with me. Low creature they call me ; I know it, my name is not of the best ; But still I am a woman, with feelings and rights of the rest. I' l U^ B ^L ^t. ^^' ■ -i» -i^ -^ i n i \i ^f 144 OTHER POEMS. My eyes and features reveal it, as true as God stamped Cain's ; Indian blood and passion run hotly through my veins. You know my husband left me — it was before I fell. Abandoned, with hung-r}^ children, what others would do, you tell. The night when this deed I committed, my youngest one lay sick With burning, raging fever ; her breath came hot and thick. There stands the doctor who told me with rest and nursing she'd live ; A mother, I trusted fondly in his restorative. When outside, with boisterous clamor, crazy with drink and lust, At midnight the man insisted that enter my house he must. With tears I begged, I implored him not to disturb our peace, But to the purpose only to make his rage increase. II If 1 I \ A COURT SCENE. He swore and raved ; he clamored and threatened — then perfectly wild — If the door I'd not quickly open he'd kill me and the child. And then he fell in his fury to batter down the lock ; I cannot tell now was it with hammer oi a rock. I could not bear it longer ; with none to help me near, Frantic, grasped my weapon, and its report I hear. What happened next I know not, but see, the man is dead ; It fits my pistol's barrel, from out his heart the lead. >' If any of my sisters condemn my life of shame, With Christian indignation a wicked woman blame, OTHER POEMS. She throw the first stone upon me ; but I do not refrain To vow, the outrage repeated, that I would shoot again ! Such, gentlemen, is my story ! My life is. in your hand ; Bring in your verdict justly, as law and right demand. I f But judge me as a mother ; if I have acted wild — Ah ! I see tears here flowing — I did protect my child ! You will not leave the court-room^ — you have made up your mind ? " Not guilty," says the foreman ; you all this verdict find ? I'm free? may go? God bless you! And now at once for home; My heart yearns for my baby. Come, doctor, quickly come ! REMORSE. REMORSE. f THE dreary night drags slowly by — Will it be never morning ? Like mockery or scorning Has hovered 'round, now far, now nigh, The sleep I covet ; but the eye Is aching, painful burning. There was a time I, too, enjoyed The balm of peaceful slumber — Now all is dark and sombre ; For since I wilfully destroyed My better self, by sin decoyed, My woes are without number. Look over there — on )^onder wall, Where night-lamp rays are crawling, A sight which is appalling. The words stick in my throat — I'd call — • O Heaven ! is there no grace at all For one who has been falling? My feverish hands run through my hair. That foul deed's apparition. In sitting, stark position. OTHER POEMS. Involuntar'Iy from my lair It draws me ; like insane I stare, And there behold perdition. Curst and condemned! — I hear it coarse. My pulse grows thin and thinner. Ah ! Satan has been winner. Curst and condemned! — a voice speaks hoarse ! I scream in anguish and remorse : God pity a poor sinner! r NEVER, NEVER, NEVER! A WANTON shot of a cruel hand Brought down the eagle from on high, Crippling his wings. He flapped the sand, In vain endeavoring still to fly, His shrieks all agony, a strain Methought it was — the wild refrain : "My pure, blue sky, forever Our ties we must now sever, .For I can reach thee never — never — never!" ^^1 ^J ^m l^n , NEVER, NEVER, NEVER! While furious gusts the waters lashed And rolled them back far out of reach, One of the finn}' tribe was dashed, By storm, high on the rocky beach ; Mute, eloquent the writhing pain Spoke dying, gasping the refrain: " My pure, green ocean, ever Our ties we must now sever, For I can reach thee never— never never!" More sad than these, I saw a sight A man, a human being, wrecked. All battling in a deathly fight; For feign he'd rise, but e'er was checked By cruel fate. His heart and brain, All full of song, moaned the refrain : "My pure, high home, forever Our ties we must now sever. For I can reach thee never— never — never ! " I ; W ^^ m' ^ " m ^L ' ^v. i^L.* g ""^^ ^ai i ^ i l^t^ ; } OTHER POEMS. A CENTENNIAL POEM— 1876. * ONE hundred years onl}' — one hundred years — The fathers of this nation, 'Midst hope and trembling, trust and fears. Signed Freedom's glorious proclamation. In history's annals 'tis but like a da}' — One hundred years only have passed awa}' ! From world's end to world's end . the mes- sage flew forth, To oppressed of all classes and people. From East to West, from South to North, From city to hamlet, from palace to steeple. Men welcomed it ferv^ently near and far; All hailed it — " Liberty's morning star ! " Degraded pigmies of a giant race. How have you guarded the treasure? Look at our realm, its shame and disgrace. It overflows the long-filled measure Of misery, suff'ring, starvation, and Crime stalking brazen through the land. I * At the time when this was written, as nearly everybody will remember, the country was in a most deplorable condition. ■ i "^l»»^3g"«l^'i ; -J I A CENI^ENNIAL POEM—i^-](i. Fanaticism and bigotry All nooks and corners are filling. The dollar's almighty monopoly The people's blood is distilling. Vile politicians govern the state, And dramshops rule the Republic's fate Justice is blind, and deaf, and dumb; Law is but trick and contrivance ; Truth only is honored if bringing a crumb Of gain from lie and connivance ; And patriotism means now — the woe ! — Corruption in office, high and low. There once was a time — the trembling lip Owns up the sad reflection — To boast American citizenship Meant safety, honor, and protection ; While now the pettiest tyrant must The " Stars and Stripes " trail in the dust. Shall we, then, perish ? Must we go down, Suicides cursed by damnation? Despots' stigma, Liberty's frown, A byword — is there no salvation? Devoid of hearts, of brains and hands, Bearing the trifiers' and cowards' brands? ^1 ^i^ i -m -^^n l»ni^ OTHER POEMS. Spirit of Washington, Franklin, and Clay, Spirit of martyr and hero, Help us on High ! and, if 'you may, Send us the man — be it Cato or Nero — To raise this people from lethargy And drive from the temple the Pharisee. One hundred years hence, then — one hundred years — When thus is saved the nation, 'Midst hopes and trembling, trust and fears. Saved Freedom's glorious proclamation ! One hundred yeai-s hence — blessed be that day. From history never to pass away ! \S I THK COLLECTOR'S WIFE. THE COLLECTOR'S WIFE. A TRUE STORY. 'M dressed and waiting; supper is ready ; the house is in trim and fix. He told me he would be home at even — and now 'tis nearly six. The cakes and cookies and dishes I've made he likes so well : Man loves a woman better, if his taste she knows to tell. "Hurrah! I hear his Bessy's neighing! Hark ! he comes not alone ! I wonder who is his company — and — how long ei'e they'll be gone ? I rather had been without strangers ; I know it is selfish and sin — Not him ? For the first time mistaken ! They rap. Come in — -come in ! "'What would ye with me? O Heaven! masked faces ! My husband is gone, but then You will not harm a helpless woman, if you are American men ! 19 _S^ -^J^iuu^g^A . OTHER POEMS. The money he has collected? the Govern- ment's revenue? Kill me! but tell I'll never where 'tis hid- den ; see if I do ! *' ' He placed it in my charge and keeping, leaving home — a trust Which while I live I'll not give over ! Try, if you dare and must! Ye twist those ropes so tightly, they cut to the bone my hands. I would not more have resisted without those cruel bands.' '* They're gone to search the house. I'd scream, but, alas ! no one is nigh. They will not find the hidden treasure, let them till doomsday try I Would that returned my husband and see me suffer here ! I'm shaking in my agony 'twixt pain, and hope, and fear. "Hark! hark! they've found the coffer. It staggers all belief. Disgraced will be as a defaulter the man I love — a thief! ( ii M ' T/fE COLLECTOR'S WIFE. The Government will denounce him, all in his innocence. Enough is money missing, convicting evi- dence. " My limbs are free again ; they bid me to give them supper quick. An interposition of Heaven clearly, 1 see in this foolish trick : These rogues tempt God their wickedness to punish ; and, behold ! 1 am His humble instrument our honor to uphold. " 'Tis awful ! they jest and they make merry so near the brink of death ! I see it work already in each short and heaving breath : The poison is creeping surely and fatal through blood and brain. They're dying and expiring! I'm safe and free again. " Now quick I will unmask these villains, who thus their sex disgrace; Perhaps that I can recognize one or the other's face. *■ "at^ f^ ^f^axr-^ OTHER POEMS. Not one ol all I'm knowing — here is the very last — His mask oft', too! I'll see him, since danger all is past. "O horrible sight! O cruel vision! It can- not, cannot be — My all, my loved one, O my husband ! in this dread company. Body and soul, and safety, love, happiness, all gone by ; Housebreaker he and robber, and I, his mur- deress — I ! " Frenzied, with hair dishevelled and flying, with countenance ghastly and pale. She reaches, panting, a magistrate's office, and tells her fearful tale. Her eyes are rolling wildly, her limbs and body shake ; Madness follows her footsteps, and Death is in her wake. Then as she staggers blind, and prostrate, expiring, falls to the floor. Maniac-like, in the midst of people, she sud- % denly rises once more. 1/ ^^^^gilfe U