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23 WIST MAIN STRUT
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THE
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BY
A XADT.
'*5tf^A' •
c*Ut\xetl\^^S€l^, l^3>vjaiY€i (A|iR€to))3
«e cheschei point, dan* c« i^t»
^^■■^ esprit, le brillant, 1' eloquenee^-
^e sens bien plus qae Je le pense.
{Demouttier.}
MONTREilL,
^(^p**< .
68750
••'/,
*
'"^^vfe
'V. v/ •.-• • •. ,
i,*V
THE generosity already manifested by the public in so ex-
tensively 8n>>&cribing to a work of the merits of which, nothing
wasg^iven whereby to form an estimate, at the same time that it
indicates a favourable impression towards the author, which can
not but be highly gratifying ; renders doubly painfurthe con-
sciojisness, that she has nothing to offer more worthy of the exci-
ted expectntions : it however encourages her to hop6,'1j^ a cor-
responding liberality will be exerted in extenuation of its ^iu^flS^^
its. It has been observed, •^That for a man of rank and fortune to
write verses at all is some merit^'— and,consequently,ezempts him
from a portion of that severity which they must expect who write
only for bread, and who have no other claim to notice but their
talents to please the public :— The author begs leave toreqfiiett'
from her judges of the opposite 8ex,whose strictures she has mojt
reabon to dread, that they will, out of pure gallantry, extend the
same exemption to another species of the Scribbling Tribe, which
for many reasons is equally deserving of the claim, and allow— ^^
'^That it is softie merit also, for a female to write verses at all.'*
Having read and admired much good poetry in her lifetime,
the author is competent to appreciate the merit of her own at-
tempts, and consequently aware, that they cannot escape the lash
of criticism. She has voluntarily subjected herself to the ordeal
of public opinion, and, as the only alternative, it behoves her to
submit to it with the best possible grace. If there be any, (tho*
the author is very unwilling to indulge the suspiciea) who hara
placed their names for the purpose of indulging their own acute-
ness of judgement, at the expence of her imprudence, she will on-
ly say to them in the words of a much greater poet than herself
♦•Qu'on me critique, mais qu'on me lise," and then sit down, as'
rejanlless pf their admonitions as unincensed by their malignity.
'7.;
i^,
■"*
/
.-vW
fv.
fjp- Notnlthstaiidinif that the hackneyed expressibnir of— ^Tbrtltlf!
Ibgkive pieceSf were composed at odd momentt, merely by way
of relaxation from severer engagement8,an(] confided only to a few
Intimate friends, st whose urgent entreaties they are now offered
to the public,6c.''-*-haye become so proverbially disreputable for
being adopted to usher into light the crude effusions of half-pay
officers, bachelors on short commons, and blue-stdcking poetesses,
that it may be considered trite even to notice their unpopularity;
it is none other but this identical form of apology that she beg;
leave to use in her own behalf— 'if indeed apology be necessary.
th publishing those pieces where she is made the chief object of
light and shade in the picture, the author is willing to incur the
charge of ego/isnt, provided, according to her own estimation, and
.agreeably to the maxim— ^That what we feel most we express
bestf" they be thought to contain the most favourable specimen
of her poor abilities.
At the end of the volume are published, with the author's per-
mission, ^A Negroes BsirBVOLEircE," and other poems, by an
American gentleman, whose talents, though they may be inade-
quate to do away the obloquy so unsparingly cast upon the
Transatlantic Mtjses, will be found, it is hoped, to exhibit not a
_ few symptoms of the daWn of better taste, and more vivid ima-
gination. She is happy in being able to present them to the
public as a relief to the tedium of her own performances, andtl
affordiag something at least deserving of eritioiem.
.. -<.. .
* ■^•■;^
i.i«K> '***»"*' ****'*-"^ i»l*""'"" ■"
■'^■€'
», merely by way
fidedonly toafew
V are now offered
y disreputable for
i^iona of half.pay
tbcking poetesses,
ir unpopularity;
•87 that she be^
?y be necessary,
e chief object of
'ingr to incur the
estimation, and
lost we express
fable specimen
-'&';
#
'^■pi$f- ■
»e author's per-
' poems, by an
n»ay be inade>
cast upon the
► exhibit not a
are vivid ima-
t them to the
kances, andtt
i
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Page.
The Willow of th« Rock. - - • - 11
To the Memory of General Agnew. - - - 31
On vlaiting; the grave of my Daughter — for the last timOf 35
On Credulity. - - - - - - 39
The consolations of Poetry. • • - - 43
An Imitation. • • • • • • 45
On finding my Bower covered with worms. • • 46
The Broken Heart, 48
On a Friend who was supposed to have suffered Shipwreck. 60
On seeing two Funerals pass by. .... 53
Deserted Flower Garden, - r - - - « 64
On Cupid. ^ - - - 66
The LoVe-sick Lady. ...... 53
Warning to a Lap-Dog. - - - - - - 69
The Feather Fan. - - 62
As thine the love that ne^er disdains. - - - > 63
On a Lady^s expressing her preference of the scarlet uni-
formjto the Green. ...... ^5
To a gentleman whose seal bore the motto.
'*Je ne change qu'en mourant.^ 66
To a gentleman satyrizing the Female Character, while
reading the Pirate, ...... g7
On a supposed Courtship. - . - - . . 70
To a beloved Object. ------ 72
On a gentleman's giving away a favourite Spaniel, - 74
Sir Walter Raleigh's advice to his Son, on tlie subject of -
matrimony. .......73
i
J-
^rV Vl.
^^LinesoQ theMeilallion Head of AnaJn«"j9<ir(Nf«M • 86
Soliloquy of Sappho before precipitating herself from the
Rock of Leucadia. • • • • • • 83
i<^org;et me not. ...•••..85
To the Same. ---.---. 87
Petition of a Linnet caught on a limed twig. ... 89
"The Joyful Coming of Birds." 92
The Sparrow. - - -- • • •».94
The Mocking Bird - 97
To a Hvimming.Bird. - - 99
Lines written during a Thunder«storm. ... 100
Lines to a Respected Friend. ...... 102
To General D******* - 107
To a Youpg Poett on hearing him recite for the first time. 1 1t
Address to Fancy. .---..-. 113
The Desertlsle. 116
'Possum up dee Oum-tree. -..--- 129
Tv the British Navy. 136
\^ Negro's Benevolence.
She difid tii the Fall of the Leaf.
The, Remembrance of youth is a sigh.
147
179
185
4
147
179
185
./.
«rf, - 86
rom the
83
- 85
87
- 89
89
• • 94
97
- 99
100
- 102
107
t time. 1 11
- 113
116
- 129
• 138
T
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.V.
THE
(From »A Real Occurrence,)
VouNo Lucy, ftdi*e«t flow^ of Sprii^cild plkita,
Was fredh ati bloHiom df the y<)tid^inliiy*khorri }
And Reuben, blitheit of the village sv^Aim^ ^ '
For Lucy and for love alone seeni'd ' bom :^^
To them joy-wing-d was erery hout^s rieturn^
While sorrow/tliat diitnie love ever waits,
Lay ambuih'd ready to obey the Fates.
KIWySoTfoiidly they were seen,
svlfciS
«-^
|j(ei¥^^^nng'« young blossoms, soil
..•It?'
riDUSB^tfresA^f iiew-born green
tiKi'aiiid love imbu'd the scene i
tiOst in each other all the livelong day,
'"'VS
liifewasto them but one full hour of play.
nh
■*. -i :
\ And move
t ainid the tangling grass i
i'^Xy .
^c^ |he richly-dusterM fruiti
■ >,V^«.^_£;-.-s— t
^^J^J^f^ ppqijtdly to the growing mass,-—
While mutual praises on the pile they pa^i^
fintjrounger urchins, — num'rous fry
Who met it eTert9^xi^YouniH^ eye;
■'■^.■'■-.
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Then might you see tiie»4i||r Ijtrtiie baiik'^aiot«in«ci^^p^^^
Tearing wild Jftowew, tostjpejDtJwiftip^iWi^^
Qr pulling out the Wi of thi9tl^4«9*V^' t^^.uw {^> ^
V. ' " * ' ■ii/'^''^v^f'"-'^ f **^' '^^'iifvif ^ ■' •"
>*■• •"•; ;?,r
To call them birda^and cihaie thena rolimlatid liiS^r^:^:^?*;^
Laugliing till echo caught the joyial souno,
■} -' 4%^.
To hill and dale repeating as she went^r-
tThe natiyestrains of youthful merriment.
Ill,
..^'
r, v'
^nd often when Ijbe ir oodjrt^ro«j jfewp, -yim^^^-^ .. :* ^
Wak'd its wild harmony and dropt its ^'^\.\-C'X\^'^
Stealing out silent o'er the d^f^Uogla^i^.,^. Ltis^m'^^?!^^
^Their search the cat-bird's lowly nest pursue«,r^ ^
She, ever^ stepi with ptdnful |l,Qtt*riiu; views ^-t? rm
They peep into it, "but thejf iKfluJd noUdiifilL 1.^
.-.V >i J '
Thoie pretty e^,--^tli» old IMslw^edWaitfeh.'*
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VI.
Two ikmis al friendljr distapce were their fioi^»v " '
VfMtttLt^ erety tteyi'tfr to some fav'rke knowl * '
Or under some old tree, still constant eome^,
iFhat which from little taftk the earliest stole :-^
Ah! Ijut the hourf too swifUy o^er them roll,*
Thrown on the gre^h, night finds them unawares,
If ocldng the pight-hawk,>^pointing at the star^,
VII.
^hole hours againt iifa HifWat noisy brook, ^
Gath*ring ^hite pebMes^white and ^rystalhne j-^
Pr, thread for line, acid brooked pin for hook, **'*';'
Scouting horn'd-daces, with a vain design :—
Their sinless thoiigt^ ah' undiininishM mme,
tf -^ ■.-.f>f^K<irv.,.lt..',
* ObMljit* i^J^glM^ bat etill UM^ia AiQ<^rio^ tf dfm^ »
Ui^lehiH.
mow),*
*
ole j^
roIV
irares,
"i .-fii
him
H-
■* , . • t
^' < < '*
: J
^^^%
4«
^pr
Whiclr threw supreme delight o*e* tevery ic©iSi^« >' ' *
iA> vivid clouds adori^ the blue serened ^'^ a ^^^ '^'^^
vin.
in such pure J03 s the happy seasons flow, - • '
\ Years, now roll OD^-^light labour is assigtt'd '
And Reuben with his Lucy loves to ftpi**^ siij W-^X yT
Thro* every little tafik ;-^-one heart,< one mind^ ^^'
Their pleastire with their dtity so combin'd, ' ^ '^
i That Labor e'en their happiness increas^di t ^
i
- As the brown west^ets off the golden east, j * ;; ^
^Thrice happy childhood ! «till we turn to thC6, ^^^ A.
In every period of declining life, ,v^ii«'**i m h^mX ll
.^^To mark thy face of Unabated glee, \^•. xuaoolir Qnm^i af
Thy heart still beating in continual strife, a!
With present things, thy thoughts thy feelings rif<i/
^<
' 'V , ,.^--« .--
'■\'-'
• ■«■'
A
36
Sooa ii|^fl|jer>9oon of life begins to wane,
t^^ turn and^^skftfrlivelt i>*er again^
X.
-'-Thrice happy chiTcihood'! tho* thy tad retiirdr
More dnead tbaa^eathlhe human heaHafirigliits?
To ligbt the firsts hope's/gayesiflambeaoKbitiniij
Shewing i<»t eT*r coming-nei* delights^ «>v«v V'trfT
Bm aecond diildhood, led by borrowed lighte,^
- > •
SinkingmidstbeingiofAfieeond age; •
May envy tboiie awept off in l^'k first stage* ' ^
XI.
ilaa ! that happiness is like ft t^wer^ -^^i' '
It buds in beauty, andin'beaa^ blooms* ^t^m^T
In beauty blooms and then forgfet» her power,-*' ^'s^iT
In one profusion sheds its rich perfiimeft.
Then to dishonour all ifts glory dooms ?
"—ft.
afirigbtsT
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ghte.
e.
r,i£»T^j;: fit
' .'?
^^f !•*/"'
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17
rt% /'
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Its fragile leaves the rude blast »weep8 aw»»YC
I And 8uch is happiness,—- so short it^ ^tay*
xn.
\ • ■
Unmarked the years roU on, — in wedlock join'd^
Behold our lovers happy as the pair
ho love with new-bom innocence combined^ '' ^' ■
Ere sin crept in with iselfish «^hborn cate;--^
Which more oriels is noweaith mortal's share-^
I'rue-lovedisiusted with thfe chains of art, • <"''*
Long fled from courts, dwells in the peasant's heart.
XIII." ^
?J^.-
V%v
fVhen thro* the frontier, savage \var no inore
Inspires a kindred people to conteHcf,' ''^
'fom every state » tides of settlers pour. ^^* ^^'^'S J**^^'
As hives in June ui?ir colonies forth-send,— '"^^^ ^^
Now on their own exertions to depend :—
i^a^
mJ
.'^T..v • •
y
. :. <r^ . 1 JO
Hearten with Lac]^,(all fait fortane) bkif, . > -^ix^u
'C-*)^
•xtr
Soa|ilit out the land of promise with the rest.
XIV.
V ■"v ' r
IV
iBiitf oft htivpurpose faltered iT^what could move ^
S^tX:. • T
[J ^' v^^' r yf^o guiit the spot by early youtlr ador'd ?—
L. . . When, irrery hill confess'd a tale of love, /i?: #7 >-* -^sl *?«#
I And ev^ry-tree with'some dear thought was 8tor*d ?
'■' No other spotcould e*er such thoughts afford ;«-
1 Jv^c • v;$tiiSf Lucy be with him,— and where
f*i-
ilig^cj was, all scenes alike were fair.
When firs* this wilderness cxplor'd, began .i^'^;^^
To prove the all-subduing energy . h,uu' ^ .3.^ tji^ii
That gives the civiliz'd o*er savage ina||| ^ j. ?>^j^^ ^^^
In forest and in field the mastery, . .rt^?5)ie/lt{ /
United on Colombia's shores we see ,»;it? f yiv^"^
^ I y
19
K.--
V,i,
»v;-
What thro' the ancient world tiaehHog* td beW,;
The three marked cpocTfa of maiii's hiat^ry^-wbere^^i.
xv<;
<re
s 8tor*d f
►rd J—
e
rw., -^
>a ^^ ''H'.
;(. ,f>>! '<|
The chase, the shepherd's <»>e, the failiwrt toiC^^^^^^^
All flourish simultaneous beneath ' " ^^
A fertile sky, — where plenty's sunnjr smile ''-'''"i^^^^^^'h'..: .-.i
Reigns o'er the farm, the fojrest •and the'heaith,- ''^'^^ "
There now the settler binds the hli^yest w'feath.'^^-'r
Now thro' the snows, the lessening game purbues^^^'
And thus supplies what yet his fields refuse.
XVII.^
\(^•,. ■
J .Vi- f^^-
Deep in the wild on Susquehanna's streium, ' ''^^' '*^'^'
The farm he chose of rich and varied soil, ^^"^^ m^^^
f And clear'd a pelflsage to the sunny gleam,
Which ne'er before had reach'd its cheering smile. ^
Hope nerv'd his arm, and love smooth'd eVery toil;-
i.rj*>;ti";
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Then Dear i/l^«b^w(i^ibi(ri99k mark'A out 4he tpot,
"'>•'''■"''
* ' . -
xvui.
Back fnpm (he #lpie9n»«>tpw*ripg rook upheaves
Its steep and spacioqs UofA \a{» tke a^r ; , - r^»V Mk,-
And at its base a leye) fwfage leaves, ,»iiw-^,/*j^ • ^'i''i>t >
Where f|B^ipM8%iaben piirposes to rear j^: •yi^^fs^iJ
A rbof|9flapl^<l to liis present care, ^k **^^\«H'><ft
His sturdy itr^kojrung thr^mg^ the woods around^ I* ^*'V
Scatt'ring the lo/^y JkreiBs ^po» thegrouiuJ. ^ . ^^y^ ^/zj w*
XIX.
It was a lone retreat into the wild, t^{*
Where Nature reign'd ia undisturbed repose :—
There Lucy— (on her breast s^n infant child,) ivt^r^iv. ;a/
' Would often come at lovely eveping's close ,^ ,15^*77
To see }m toil) and how the pile m3^\ .
'v
pot,
t^iJV ^i^t
■'jiil ii
A^r
Then futore plant employ their happy ffltttpffj ' ;
Till night the lovers in their wahdeHn|$tta|L ^' ' ^
XX.
<K-
'■H*"^V'ti
<,_;•
.*i«
Sweet are the fTotks we4irholIjr call our owofi
They leema portion of onrtelves, and yield
A pure delight in foreign things unknown i—
How swells the settler^s breast to view the field
Whose charms by his own hands hstve been revesJI^d
Where feudal rights no menial toil command, ' '^i) ^K
Nor tyrantSrSuck^he fatness of the landt'*^ \kvynii qo^^'l
XXL/
Chill winter whijbei^ d*er the leaflest^twood^ rii hoa i*. k
And clears a passage to the nortlieni blast ;M^i^^i'^
But now4^inst the«ock his cs(bitt stood» itn h'sa^A i.\i\T
Built of riide logs, with elm bark O'Vercast,*****! '^f J
Of day» of toil to«>morrow isthc last ci?!*}^-^* ^vv* i^. -tXi
1,1
vr''
' *«r-r,
-X-^
T' indulge in their reciprocal content. ,y ^.f^ ,,{^,,,
XXII.
Blest iu ^ath other, iwiAly pait tlie houii;
Their infant lo?es they all recounted o'er,—
AodBtill from every spot reviving Aowen i^yfi^^tf ^,„y, ,
Love puU'd, and from them fragrant freshness hore^
^ Tlf^his blissful joyance nought could sweeten more '
At dawn returning to his pleasant task,—
Deep threatening obudi the face of morning maski
XXIIL V
And now from all their mirky folds they pour, ir HhiZ^
Confusedly the silent-falling snow,-*^ | l e^nvh hi^h
The trees are white,-^e ground is seen no more, ^l
The loaded hemlock boughs are bending low, ftt'tl
Or spring elastic, and their burden throw :-^ ^ ;i>'i0
*hati
■ . ru i n «> .-^
-^■■'»»Wyi « >« f t-
*irr»;-^»'*" ••
v^
•^Z'
The scene of gloom the squirrel only t>roke«
Startling the bougii^ and hideing in the finokd« ' '
XXVI.
I^t length his task is finish'd— night is comt,'*^' "" ^^'"^ '
But ah ! the lowering cloUds too thickly &nf^f
[He fain would bear the joyful tidings home, ' ■ J^'^f'*^
And spend that night the happiest man alive ; '^'^^^
But it were madness with the storm to strive^
Ee lights a fire against the rock's rough 8ide« '
Lnd tbrpws hii limbs upon the soft beards hicj^p <* ^
;.■»
T
XXV,
'hat fatal fire, (alas ! how like the sun !) « vrml ^iV
For good and er'A shed its cheering beami^ '-jurnu^
^hich soon of evil the drebd work begun, " "^^ '' ' • "^
While lulling Reuben in delightful dreams, ^^^forA
(In which bis Lucy's forot still smiling teems)* '^(/^^
>:'■■
I
-s i^^
.#«i^'
"■■".-'V'
:? '%
H>
ilotui^^l^ l»eiieath the rock the rip'roiii oest,
i'fi&eycs of fire and destth-menaciog crest, jj ;.nfrrt, .
XXVI.
^j'«-
'J'^?Mi^vA■;
Swifl to their y^ctim fly the fbrious train, ,.^,|^^,^^| ./
Coil tfifwd hii neck, and plant the venom^d sting,
Curdled with fsar^ and writhing in his pain^^^^j^^^^/j^^
JHe feels tjhe jl^ssing tribe around him cUag^j^i,,^^
And in each vein their cui!slees venoip fling»r-^ ,t{i
He seeks the door—resistance all too late, i ^ ^ui0 nti
piyes in the snow, and yiek)s,him to his fate* oi#f>,'/
XXVII.
..I, .-.-
The hardy wopdsiiQan that thro< hijl and brake, "t iwfi
Pursues the wolf the panUi^r ai^d fl^be bgATa. >)- i<>'^
Yet trembles althe hissing ratlLlesnakej—if^iou;, fi:At\'^i ^
Avoids his bodhighisi withconscious care^i >[u 7r
Nor 4area to rouse the reptile from hia lair ;«-• u i ^
^■■•- <.
i^-'
■r-
Quiekfen'd irom torpor, with their bags dist|nti-,^r ;,-
I "^i>4;i>.■,•
On him who gave them life their rage they yent.l^^f ^
25
-^i^'i
xxvm.
':?<J^.-
[In distant village Lucy past Uiat night,
Her tender bof 9m torn with boding fear ;— . ^
h ! wherefore did not Reuben bless her sight--* .
She looks — ^but sees no pitch-pine torch appear,
Yet long ere this her heart it used to cbeer,-<*
And dread, prophetic drea4 was in her thought, .
That somehow at the wood mishap was wroughjt^^)^ .^i
/;.,"; ■ XXIX, ^V-.
She lists the screach^owrs cry amid the blast, ,j ,y.^i ^,>
The bear-dog's howl appals her sinkiflg heart, 7/
And every legend of their warnings past, ' , 1 ^.^ .
Dirts thro' her mind.-^^How could she ever part;f
One moBient from her love ?— ^Did not the start T
,-^^'-
y,*'^
26
''^ -' That thril)*d her breast, when from her longing sighty
He went this morn, presage all was not right ?
XXX.
The weary night is past in restlessness; '*^*^' ia<>f»>b lii
At every blast that sweeps, she lifts her head,
Hope for a moment quiets her distress ; — *?£ >^'^«
In eVery noise she heaira his welcome tread ;
^v And soon as stormy night is vanished,
Her steady purpose cannot be withstood,
She seelis her Reuben in the snowy wood. -
XXXI.
m
In his breast still life holds a feeble sway.
With half formed accents mov'd his swollen tongue*
"Ah ! Could I see thee, Lucyl" he would say, ^ ♦ *^1
She sees him,— (one wild shriek of horror rung,) •
Flif'ft to bis arms and round him lifeless hung: — '-'^
iging Bight,
It?
lead,
Id;
-■ -«v
2t
h*My Hc^ben** all she said, — and Reuben, cried
[The echoing woods, as in her arms he died.
XXXII.
[The dusk now slowly vanishM from the wood,
When early riflenien pursuM their way, —
lut safe the game, for now assembled stood
Around the rock, in pity and dismay
The crowd, where pale in death two lovers lay :—
'^ui Lucy*s fainting form restored to life,
^/|With waneing reason held the doubtful strife.
i
ng:—
<v
> XXXIII.
, ' ' '^ ' ', - '
. ' • i ■•''*'■'" " ■ - '• -' ■.• ' '■-■"■ ■, ."
one,<4kf;one fore/er was that artles? mind, ^^^ ^y
Which light and life from fond affection drew -,
hile rutsic skill, with tender pity join'd,
In vain essay M each remedy it knew, ^,
And bore her lifeless off", «*er the sad view, , ., j^^
V'/i':'-
w»«*«TV
JH-
<0f herdear Itiguben should again recall,
The aDguish'd thought which worked hei^reason'* falh
XXXIV.
Yet, wherefore mourn ye, kind and gentle hearti.
All unsophisticated by the world ?
Has woe» that but in punishment imparts,
Her lessons, ne*er to you her page uofurl'd,
To teach, that reason from her seat when hurPd,
By misery, t*were cruel to recal ?
Death^Only can release iVom madness* thrall. ""'
XXXV. -/^
"The Widow of the Rock'*— Ah! woeful name,
Thi.i the once gay— once happy Lucy bears ! ^
While madness adds a more appalling claim, "-^i-^
To pity, that but mocks the grief she wears :*— ■
As neath the trees by moonlight she appears --■•'
'■*.♦ m
•**•*♦• -^ •< ij. .]i<i
'"-***'• '^|w-«jf«*'**'-«**^»*^^..,y-»'*.*-w-^.
.v>^
....>
Her foim bent over Reubens* early gratt..
No more her griefs in wild dbtraction rare
XXXVL
rl'd,
in hurl'd.
I.
Calm is her mind as the subsided sea.
And settled is the sorrow in her eye : —
^fl by some devious br ook^ or mouldering tree.
She sits indulging the unbidden sigh,
lAnd sometimes turns, and talks to Reuben by,
;Then will she start in terror, — and anon,
Di?e in the woods, and wander farther on.
■m
Dame,
lars ! * ■ '
»;*
ars : — •^-
ars
*■ ■
^'U.'%,
4
f>;W;»---'"-
* I
■ ^
V
■■ --*%^'"'l
■ '
••Hy-
C2
MU^
<ti:^.v^'>-
'!?.••.>
^
f^
^,..
%.
^:J
#
SSt^^W:
«^*.
r^cv^
■ ^AfA" w
::j^;^€<c
i^V^
y^.
.^•^
>.! ''i\
*IV >t.
?■'#
1
-t. ■-:i rriir^i ■?■
iJI
■■►■^ '"^M"'
'*:.>,
V*' •*,
'be 8t
Oftb
'eace i
And
lalltl
iSball D
Tot
J
vV
'^^ viL
'^^^iv
t'
*^ ---I .'^t-'
*. .,; •;» ;■■
TO tHE MEMORY OF
Woe struggle of freedom has past like the swell
f Of the mountain-heav'dhillow that swallows the shore;
^eace reigns whete the hrave and the mighty once fell,
And the yell and the scalping-knife's terrors are o'er.
all the heroes who sunk he forgot ? — and their praise
Be doomed in the grave of ohlivion to lie ?
all no kindred effusion awaken to raise 1^
To their mem*ry the trihute that never can die ?
m
32
Oh I wonld that my fire and my verse were as strong M No fu
As the spirit that dared, and the arm that atchiey*d, H r^y^
To thy memory, my ancestor, both should belong, II Yet t
And no more of its glory thy name be bereav V. ' J| ^^^
w
Thy ashes are hid by th* inglorious sod,
Their place *mong the graves of the humble past o*er ;
By the foot of the foeman unheediogly trod, '
The courage that fired them regarded no more.
Yetthy braveiy wa< known— and thy deeds cannot fail,
In the record of glory thy name ever lives.
j:::..'*v;,-i«^»
Where envy in vain shall attempt to assail
::-,■>
The ne'er-fading wreath that posterity gives !
The warrior firm when mad faction had spread.
Rebellion's red flag, markM with Liberty's call,
J »^ ■■■ ■*
'^;? »:-»'
His life for his country was foremost to shed ;
By the dark hand of treachery at last doom'd to fall.
im
[Thou
To
Yet a
Wj
Perci
Wi
Of tl
'■(
'^ At
•*Th
"He
■ '-'^^s: ■
"e af strong
It atchie?'d,
belong,
ereav'd.
le past o*er ;
I more.
caonot fail,
'•..'.=f-; ut.i u*;-
a'd to faD,
33
-"V, ./•
\0 T
''If
■:-m
■m
. 'if'
ves!
sad,
■ % '
■ ■--.i^-i
. I'K
i call.
''";
[No funeral honours were paid o'er tliygraT^i;
The strife of the combat for these gave bo room ;
^Yet the soldier** rough tear was wiped off for the brave,
And e'en focmen were sad o'er the warriors tomb.
■•>.■■'■•■!■ ■ ■
P Though no storied relievos above it are wrought,
To point where affection may bend o*er and weep,
Yet a record more noble more dear is thy lot, —
Wan age that with three generations doth cre<»p.
Perception a blur, — and sensation a void,
With gratitude still loves to throw back the veil
Of the past, — while remembrance is feebly employed,
And to tell 'mid the fortune of war's sad entail
j_ "There was One^ who protected the sons of the soil,
*' Their rights made his own, & their injuries his care,
*'He crav'd not of power but his en'mies to foil,
•*-■■' ' - tf. '
"Once conquer'd,he strove the defenceless to spare.'*
■■Vi
p
V
L^: -mv;
..r ■
'^\..
'•^r^^^v^
34
The tear Df the widow procIaimB to thy boast,
Such virtue as never aspersion can taint,
Tho* no trophy be raised, tho' thy mem'ry were lost,
This speaks more than Qiarble sepulchral can painty
For this my hearths warmest devotion be paid,
To thy virtues my praise — ^my affection belong ;
And the daughter for this, to her grandfather*s grave,
; Sole ofiPringshe can, pays the Uibute of song.
i^
, ■ .V;
!4'"'^
•m-r- !l%
' 't ^v-
■^C' !
ON
\\
v»<liHfc-». J»i «% .»-«- «*-*»"
oast,
t,
r were lost,
Ed can puint#
lid,
>elong ;
ir*g grafc,
long.
ON VISITING THE GRAVE OP MY DAUGHTER ^
FOR THE LAST TIME.
'is the pale moon of midnight my sad spirit hails, ' ^
I see its dim gleams thro' the tall waving trees:—
Sarth slumbers, — solemnity's silence prevails
I alone break the swell of the wide-sweeping bre^ek^Jf "^
is not the moon in the pride of her power, ^^ -I^T ; ' ^.' ,-**
Nor the soothing relief of the calm midnight shad^i
j'jVt^iigju^
|hat leads me to wander alone at this hour,—
'Tis the moon-lighted hill where my daughter is laid*
'l-i:\! I '•
r ?
, p,
#
lere — there is my heart. — *Midst the forests wild
gloom, '
'.:h Sleeps the babe that once smiling I fondly caress'd:***
V
< 1 — 'V
S6
How I watch*d o'er its beauties and marked its young
bloom ;
Oh ) yet the remembrance is dear to my breast.
This lonely retreat doth the n&oanibg-dove chobse
To pour forth her melting funereal dole :
While listening her notes oft my footstep I lose,
As for thee pours her dirge, it is sweet to my soul !
!•"
m^
And yet happier for thee, that so soon thou hast fled
From the tempest of passion, the trials of life,
Than live thro* the mazes of love to be led,
< ,"■»■■,'"'■
And like me feel the pangs of maternity's strife.
Years have past away since, but I cannot forget thee^
Sweet germ of my hopes, tho' thy sorrows are o'er -,
Thou art happy my daughter i — why should I regret
thee?
Tho' thy mother ziyist weep,— thou wilt never weep
more ! ,
vy
*v*W
J^^^.
*. ■■
*» •% VI,.
Thy spirU e«cap'd ere thou kn^weslto frame
One thought or one wish that couU mem'ry load ;
Ere the dawnings of reason or sentiment came,— y
While eiistOQCf.w^s fresh from t^e hand ofits God.
* W'
Tet I lovM thee mv daoghter ! — I loT'dtheei how dear-
ly.
Tjie bitterness now of my anguish may shew }
Time has not effaced thy young image, nor nearly
PreyailM o^er the bitter excess of my woe.
An I linger in sadness, it pleases to think
That thy fond spirit hovers around me the while :
Ah ! why dearest babe from thy mother thus shrink ?
Thro* the thm air thou {^idest away with a smile.
Stay — stay little darling ! — thy mother would follow^
But the cares and the duties of life interpose ;
[)Still longer this spot with thy dear presence hallow,
Nor^suffer the night-mists thy shade to enclos^.
B
I ;.
I ■
jf
y-^ : - •
"^c^^
^-■'- il^}
38
But even (his solace will soon be denied^
For distant from thee is my destiny cast{ '■*' ''^ '
Tetnerer my^ef for thee babe shall sndside ^^^ ''''
' F«re thee well darling hope ! niy sole daughter !^lDy
last t
m ^
$^^
i\.f •
r -■■ '4 : ?*3> ' ^:?' '>mr i\n^f
i\!-'-'3f-
tiAt
'd
{.•; 7U..'= <5f^(«r»
mvi'^p^ mj
«•>.' ■fU-iT h^m iJii^y
-l'i/% i
J, ■"4- «;ff
**' ■>,!
rt» ■'•n*.
-^
»<ff '.•'■'•,
!*; { I
tW
■^B
■■^^
c-; -f^'^i
va-^ta* J^iiVlv T'^'v-.*
ri'J'
.1 '
'Ui-;«
;/ ■' .r
* '-rii,i»>.!«r, ^'^'
;.,.;^ :te
'^^^
-jr.!.' «,
,:,'^jvy -5
:---.'j . s.
* vfi-} •.
■■r.-
^>
V
-'^■
^^rxhfi^oliMir^i':^ ^
.ii:0
ON CREDULITY.
Credulity !— weakness that worldlings abuse,
* ■
I hail thee the test of ingenuQus hearts !
The pleasures thougivest let stiff Prudeocjs refuse, {''
And smile in derision, where*er she imparts, ,(.;, ,>|
y"*'
Her cold heartless pleasures, if such they can bt
That externals can yield without ent'ring the soul ;^
Far better to brave all the ills causM by thee
Than submit to the bonds that good feelings cOntroi
Oh ! hat the enjoyments this world can bestow,
Whcn we've liv'd to discover that nothing is neH^
Society !— only deception to shew
How ennui iQ lull, or hide folly from view.
i/
:t.^^
'»^*
-.^i»^'■
'':^-^;-
1^,*^
V^-
4d
And hence the delight that the poet can gire,
Who, scorning deception, from truth only draws,-—
Tears off the false mask, like a Byron, to live
In the heart, while the tongue dares deny natures
laws.
Come Wit that to Dulness alone gives offence ! '''A *
Poor Wit ! whose light tresses are cruelly torn^
By dunces with hrain-pans like oyster-shells dense,
(Their contents, if they've any, Wit stoops not to
scorn!) "' ^^^ , . ■■ a ■■ - r,''--:''^'- ^•--■- --
And Satire ! to Wit thafs so nearly allied, —
Twin sisters, — both shunnM yet supporting each
other.
■f-n r^v^rnm^, ^?;v; ft?^.r..?i i^aMm gi^Oik
" Bear up I for without you would pedantry ride
AU rough-shod o'er talent and merit together. ':.,,.. ^
A^. -« .>....*,-,.,.»*. .,i^.
While Vulgarity stuff'd with the offals of gain, *
?ti>'^*;^fc
Apes airs of gentil'ty unfounded in worth*
•*?•:•*•' eH
K .*_ ...-^ M^^**^ **-■ ■• >.
'•^. »;.-*>-. r-
■■\m.
^.
'•^.- tt-it:'-
*',;V«Se
' J- ''"
I Affectation o'er GeDius triumphant would reign^v i,^ -.^^
And Vanity make up for Meanness of Birth.
I Credulity ! — thou injured theme of my song.
So despised by the worldly, the proud, the self-wisQ^
That a poet alone may thy praises prolong,
Tho' thou plumest the wing that would soar to the
skies. , ,'■■.., ...
,1,
■A\
And descend like heaven's dews sprinkled over the
flower, *
Refreshing the heart by sad care long oppress'cl.
With genial attraction in misery's dark hour,
That invites to disburthen the labouring breast..
■■-•i-.TI
■■'M
'-^v/:;.4i
And admitting that wisdom sometimes is in fault, '
When with virtues congenial untried we invest
Those beings whose cold hearts our warm ones hav«
caught .;.' :■;■;.7^•v?^;'' '2 rr'-. ''. • '-fy }v-;j^^^ ,:
At moments when mis'ry in vain sought for rest*^
^ '^ V
4IF -x:
Do we therefore of folly the miner accuse^
Who digs for the ore where with dross 'tit combined t
No rarely,*— yet treasures of her nobler use
Are not deemM worth the trouble of seeking to find
•I"- >' ■«•.. yv «- tins • :'->''.f'^
':■■:.,:'.■■■" - '. - '■ '^^'-
v:^^i^-
' ' ' ' - ," ■■•" .. . :
;•?«!? ,.Hni*j *Ul^W ^i«if • f1> •■ ri 1>'0«V ?.£ftrf>r? Lt^.lMi:f f^j-lV'
v ^\
.'s.-
'^■Q( ,.
*,->
THE CONSOLATIONS OP POETRY.
.r*
fjThe poet's wild Fancy may rove in a dream,
And sport with bright yisions the world cannot know^
I And dim is the glow of her varying beam,'
--' '*.
If sentinel Reason she cannot lay low.
Ft t -
•;;•'■»•>"<'
^^".iYi.'-v.iT''
I Then now for the moment this guardian reposeij
With her may the losses, the crosses of life /"
■ «
[Be forgotten, while stript of their thorns be the rosH
• •■ I*
That hide and embellish its pitifnl strife.
,dmr,*i> -^d'T
To gather these jroses a long retrograde
Must mem*iy fatigued and depressed undergo {
I While travelling a tedious journey thro* shade>
To reach the bright regions of blise where they groiK.
^V,;^.:
f^hile Prudence says, "Turn to the past and remembjefi
*'Woe pursues and will catch thee, forbear then |t
go,
Kor the products of May try to pluck in December.
*Tby path chiird and hid beneath life's winter snow»
'''Rather turn thee, and hasten the last ^eam to catch,
*'That shining from far like a beacon doth seem
*' A spark may yet linger within that can match
**The ray that may light up lifers last fading beam !
s-
■■'\ V^iiii il'5>»
Thai ray to the poet unfolds a bright world
With visions that please when life's joys are decay *d ;
There his eye is still fix'd on a standard unfurl'd,
The standard of glory whose hues never fade.
'%^'
winter anow>
^,;,;«„ AN rMITATION.Kixit Ko . "'
M Eloqucuce tell of her power to persuade,
Her lightiuD^ that flash and her thunders that roll;
tut the converse of lovers requires not her aid,
Tis the language of /oo/es that speaks home to the
eoul. ' s ,
jLet Harmony vain of her influence boast,
How hearts to exalt^ to depress, to entrance ^ '
>ut let eyes meet in concert, her magic is lost.
And the music of spheres is subdued by a glance.
[Let poets from heaven their numbers derive,
Let Byron's wild strains be still praisM by the throngs
lut the eyes of the poets fliir theme when alive.
Would (trust me) have lookM what had vanquish^^",
the eonig.
^'^rhino^'
/y.'^r'' •.•
/^'
i-'-^'
■v>«f»
'i'<'^,r
• •»'•■:• :*
o?j Binding my bower covered with
WORMS AFTER 1 RAIN.
.■■-•••■ :i/i*^ii
TouL crawlers begone ! nor presume ^!l' * '^** '
Th<^sc flowers ere their time to impair ;
The Sun shall awaken their bloom,
And the moisture dispel from the air.
-•> • ' r^ *
'4i »<
Get you gone to the mouldering clay,
That beauty with life hath forsaken^
There fatten at will on your prey, jj^,.,f|| ;^
The prey that destruction hath takes.
,;irf Come not to the cheerful day-light, , jo4^|f jf^j
Your noisome remains to disperse y ^^'^ jj
Hide away in the bosom of nig]ht,;| ,j^|.^v>, UstW
And feed on the death-stricken c4>si^. ^
■f*PJ»««vj
wnwiii iiMlliw^—iiifcf^
•rtMMk -.». I«^n«.«*f. A i.^-A.«^i^^«
'\. .-^'
•V>
\^--..
M
4*
If the miter wbHe eyeing his clieit»
Sair the worm crawl o*er each piece of goM,
Or the lover with happiness blest.
O'er the1<]Fv*d one ihould feel it creep coH
m^a %f^Q^-t.
The shuddering liedrt, the short breath,
The horrible thrHI 6f Uke soiil;
v.tA« 'ilii-i S.>
t>'
Joy*8 sunShine o*er^hacl6w^d by death.
Might prove the worm's reign o'er the whole
'Xy*
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THE BROKEN. HEAHT. ,.^o
^*Bl.EST happinesi ! if it thy shadow that flie8>
**0*er this heart hut so lately depressed ? '^
^'Or is it the radiant glance of those eyes ...«,. f
'*That rekindles thy form in this breast ? «,i
'*Base deceiver begone ! for thy flattering power
**Sink8 from the real'ty of woe j .
^* And Hope that my love gave to bloom like a flower,
^'Now withered, that love must forego.
'While the smile that gave life to it once in my heart,
**For another is destinM by heaven, ^.
'May its brightness endure and may it impart^
"i'Those joys that from me are aU riven, '^
[Thus sung a lone maiden, whose beauteous form
FlushM up at life's last fading raj,
iike the glow of the sky that succeeds to the storm,
When the sua beams *'fareweir' on the day.
' or long ere meridian lustre had shed ^'^ .',
O'er her beauty its mellowing charm, jj^^ f a^
[Her fuU-matur'd heart in Love's snare had been led.
While she deem'd thajt with friendship *twaa warmk
Those affections one olyect ibrever possess'd, ;^ .
Until truth brought its warning too late ^>—
When his vows to another stooid fully con/e8s'd||^
She in secret succumbs to her fate^ >
<5riers ne'er-dying worm unrelenting and sure, . jv j
Crops the blossom of nature's fair child, ,i ,
Whose love like the scent of the rose is most pupft, ;
^hen its bloom wastes away on the wilck ,/
J
t: -^ ON A I^ADT WHO WAS SUPPOSED TO HAVE
SUFFERED SHIHWRECK.
vTo wake up with the early dawn,
And hail the coming day ; < •*'' f ^i
To ramble o'er the dewy lawn,
With hearts then yeting and gay,
Was ours.^-*ah ! what a soul was thine,
Shade of departed worth !
)7ever did cultur'd nature shine
Hore pure upon this earth f
For thine was every outward grace.
With every virtue fraught ;*-•
Thy bosom was a resting place,
For )oye not to be bought. '
botthou art gone,«^with thee ii fled ,,;...
All hope again to find ^j ,,„^, ^ ;. , „ ^
Another that like thee could shed
Peace o'er the woe-wom mind..
I
«4nd now I wander all alone >
Nor heed the balmy breeze,
But list the ring- dove's tender moan,
And think upon the seas.
The wind that rushes through the wood*
Has swept the fatal waves ;-•
Far — far beneath the briny flood,
Deep — deep in ocean's caves
I
Thou liest ? — ah ! no — ^thou art not there*
Thou soar'st in amber bright, ' ' " '
Perhaps e'en now, in tender care,
Tbylool^ on me may light!
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And could that form return— no drca^
But joy sublime for me, -'' ^n^^n- : ^-^^^ _
To view thy bright celesUal shad^i ^m^fimh
Oace inore to look on tfaeef
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1 T^Uf.'! .- .^v ji' jjni t -itll litii Jai?^
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finrea f'iji'siv; ^r sj^v^fev-jf^^j^v'!
,>i:>ii} i^f; tip ifcdl— da ! dn--^ it'4i vm''^
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ON SEEING TWO FUNERALS PASS BY.
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JAlas ! for man ! — Few sympathetic tears ; ^
Embalm those dead borne by od separate biera I
I Behold them by the thoughtless crowd convey'd',
Without e*en mimic woe's decorous aid !
I I ■ ' t;
With heartless apathy I see the throng, ,
[Each in himself absorbed , pass light along.
[Returning each, his thoughtless tribute paid,
IT* oblivion dooms bis friends' departed shade.
po moral lesson here drawn from the tomb*
I To teach the soul to startle at its doom,
'he crimes of man to picture with disgust^
[And bid him^rawhis wisdom from the dust, , .
Impress the heart with fear and point to heaven, .<
I Where thro* this narrow vale the road to life is given*
a.
DESERTED FLOWER GARDEN^
These flowers left alone, seem to droop with regre!]
Shewing sympathy more than from mankind we meet.
The garden's fair ornaments once might look gay,
But the form which then cheerM them is now far awai{
And the Tisions of fancy that flit o'er the heart,
Recalling past scenes, animation impart
To those emblems of nature,, to which 'tis allowed
As they sigh in the hreese, of that care to be proud
Which nurs'd them so kindly, but left them to mournl
In their prime to be pluck'd Tulgar breasts to adoiu«>|
Yet woman alas ! may well sympathize there,. —
This garden's the type of her own prospects drear.
When reft of protection she vaiuly would shun
SH
ll
)EN.
3 allowed
I be proud
m to mourcl
ts to adoi u«>|
there^ —
cts drear,
shun
/'•.«
The blast of the world, — ^like the blight of the vam
Which withers the soonest the bloom of that rose
Whose delicate sweetness pre-eminent shews ;«^
Tho* yesterday honourMthe pride of the bower,
Now yielding in charms to the lowliest flower.
Of these flowers let me hasten, while some yet remain,
A garland untarnishM for thee to obtain,
And keep, till we meet in the temperate sphere
Of friendship unsullied, where no clouds appear
To darken the glow thy renoembrance impresses
On a heart long a stranger to warmer excesses*
1 ,•
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ON CUPID.
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'*Kot ArgQS with his hundred eyes can find ^, , ...
«« Where Cnpidgoes, tho* he. poor child, is blind.^
Yet that he never sleeps the odds I take, ,
Because for mischief he is wide awake.
His wicked arts have gods themselves jsubdiiM,
Then who resists them ? Who—Except the prudtf.
Ere danger *s warded, it must he foreseen,
And various forms the urchin wears I ween ^
Perhaps not twice in the same shape appears,
A Proteus proved these many thousand years,
From Contradiction and from Folly sprung.
For Venus only nuis'd him when quite young.
Sometimes 'tis nature «fiii8 him, sometimes art }
I •
rudff.
«
iSometiined 'tis faults that wing his keenest dart.
For neither common sense, nor that of schools,
I ^ «
Can save his victims from becoming fools. * . ^^
Tho' in his favour this mustbe confess'^,
That poets (always wise) describe him best.
Without his pranks alas ! what could they do"^— -
His sports they may enjoy and never rue.
£v'n tho* in plaintive mood they may dex>lore
What Cupid always was and will be evermorej
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THE LOVESICK LADY^ ,h k en
M,rt>.i;» f.
Lightly Zephyr pass not by,
That face attractive — form divine t
But bear to him the tender sigh
Of heart ala? ! ?io Ipp^rminQt
Thou canstXan him in the shade,
With sweets of spring thy pinions load.
Bid every flower lend its aid,
To charm the sen§e of love's abode.
'^:U'
Bear not words, — fbr they are vain.
Let raptur'd feelings fill his soul !
Words may try to paint the pain,
The joys of love they can't unrol.
f 'x^
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)d seize the moment when he sleeps,
That dreams may lend their magic power ;—
Po crery breeze that o'er him swe^jis, f ■'^
Give force to speed the blissful hour.
fet ah ! perhaps 'tis not for me
rd thus imagination move I
bother now more blessed may be,
With all that woman dreams of lore.
tei silence then my portion be.
For Tain the effort thus to trace
The conflict caus'd by loving thee,—* .
Yet vainer still that love to chase,
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)e gone then Hope ! no longer lead
A heart no other food can cheer,-^
[Despair at least excuse may plead,
For sighg bestowed oq one too de«r»
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WARNING TO A LAP-DOG.
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My pretty Rosa ! tell me why
That plaintive look — ^that heavy eye.
Hast thou my frail one been deceived,-^
Thy spotted lover's tale believ'd ? ,.
Tale, which^whisper^d in thine ear,
Alas ! were perilous to hear ?
Ah ! Rose beware ! discard the thought
Of foppish love too dearly bought.
Or if of single life thou^rt tir'd,
Choose not a beau so much admired.
For many lessons he has learn'd^
Thmt to thy ruin may be tum'd^'-r
T«o much the world he's rang'd arounll
Too man^ Roses he has fouo^
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Too much be apes the high rendlPn
(Of hero's doffing laurel crown, " ; '
For myrtle's sweeter — softer far
Wh^n Cbpid fchaini *Hhedog?! of war/*y ^^^
Then Rose,' beliere thy w rter friend; "" '
And shun the danger that must end
In woe that thou alone must bear :-*^
While, shifting like the ambient air«
The faithless sighs of faithless swain*
Each breeze sweeps lightly o'er the plain.
To be inhaled by every one.
His spots may dazizle — ^but Pre done.
So, take thy crust, and be content^
^uch roving love ciin but torment
4
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ISt ".«>i'l<}ii — tt^jyl*''' tS^hm^f*,^ Vo' i
fSfrr TO A CBITTLIMXV WITB A PBATHJBft-rA«'
' ■•
On which Roses were depicted* '. c.ri'Vi
Go, light, fantastic, airy thing,
By I ancy pluck'd from Cupid's win^ !
Thy pencird Roses gaily blowing,
(The work of nymph, alas ! unknowing,
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What mischief Hbere might lurk unseen,
y ' Should Zephyr take Apollo^s meio,
r And lightly fanning thoughtless fair,
Excite a flame not cooPd by air.)
But might this gift to friendship be,
;^ The pledge of friendly courtesy.
No mischief hence could e'er ensue,— • '
"^^ More harmless roses never grew.
- V. • ■, if-
!.!
'Us THINS TAIB.LOVE THAT NE'ER PISPAInV^
, )
y>i>'' A pastoral:
■^ -TTA' if'V
As thine the love that ne'er disdains
■' ;^;,.v:.
The simple lay— the shepherds strains,
Awake my loTe, and come with me !
The rising sun hath rous'd the bee,
f'lWV^"
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The soaring lark now tunes her lay, . , .
Arise my lore, and come away ! / . '
■■:■ ■■ : • '-tisr^^^jti^hik
Together let us rang« the mead.
Where daisies spring, and lambkins feed ; .
Wand'ring o*er the dewy lawn, », y ,^> ^. j^
To taste the frcshneiss of the dawn «>:^ljj^:>^>|^
Before the sultry heat of day; - i &' :i5b r »iT
Delay not, love, but come away ! ^^•^'i^^'f'^ '^
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Thus Edwin to his Anna suog,— ^
His dulcet notes the echo rung.
While deep impressed on Anna's heart
The love, Where interest bdre no part, i '
The loTe, disdaimng worUUy pride,
The love, ne'er felt by courtly bride,
But that which in itself, comprised,
All earthly bliss that Anna prizM.
And Edwin, happiest of the swain?^
Of cold reserve no more complains.
When Anna, fairer than the dawn,
And fleeter than the bounding fawq.
Springs forth, with joy her love to mcejt,
This^n otall t6heir tftbijl^t,^ "''^'^^[
To stray where Copid gaily leiads, ''"• ^'^'' ^•
Heedless of every hour that speedy* i'i!i^> ''^^
Thisday*8 the last ofmaidenlife, a Mr .vt . :
Tomorrow dooms her Edwins' wi^ ^,^, •j^fsil
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■•»• -T* ^ «^*- •'^•*-^
'•si.
tiS A LAST'f XXniMSIirO HKR PEXrBKClfCS 0¥ TtfB
ICARLKT VHIFORM T(V. TNX ORBKIT.
. »'
rho' cypress the colour that decks those gay fonn0«
Sfc't guard well your heart, for beneath them are charin!^<
'herc*s a couleur de rost, that with scarlet may vio,
^urking under the green, which may draw forth a
Lnd ah t think not the colour that catches the sights ^'
iike the glow in the bosom your love can excite ;
hit true to the maiim that bright honour teaches^
lewate no ra!se colour your heart ever reaches. ''■
ffho* dipt in the rainbow, the heart of coquette ' '
Is clad but in hues of a trasient date*
"j«, • \i-r. ■ • /
id, (trust me) the tongue that thus pertly can ral^
passion ai heart may yet strive to conceal.
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TO ▲ ttSNTLFMAir WHOSE SEAL BORE THE DFYXCE Ot A
HEART TRAZ^SFXXED BT A DART, WITH THE MOTTO
**/c nc change qu'cn mourant."
**/e ne change qu'cn mourant" — This motto peut-etrs
.. ' ■ ' . < .-
Impress'd in thy heart wouM net warrant my satire.
Br.t sceptic the Fancy that dictates the verse
When Mars ! of thy children the praise she'd rehearse^
r
Tho' aware that exceptions estuhlish a rule, ^;.
Drawing rules from exceptions would stamp her a fool
And doubt must remain where professions we see.
Which call forth a question that had remained free.
But should virtuoso such rare thing require, ^ ,
Let him constancy seek in the heart you inspire.
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TO A GSITTLESfAN SATTRlZZXre THE VEMALI CBARAtTJUl
»■ J
WHILB RBAOINO THE PIBATEf.
I'he spirits of the northern blast,
* --Disturbers of the mighty deep,
't 'luisiiU
My magic spell have o'er thee cast !—
* But, Noma bids thy terrors sleep.
v.-ni. *i i»^ Mt .r<:.i i^y^^it; i.fi— •.Cl^Cfl '!C /<
Great Noma of the Fitful Head
The Fitful Heart now deigns to SSficif
Yet not the heart of mystic lead,
W^> 'c^
-.O'f
But hutnan flrailty's mystic seat.
'ti :qnryu z j\\
■ ;•. * n'f'r M
This woe-worn Noma roving wild,
Disdains the scoffing scorn of man, ' ? '"^f
With worldly self-conceit defilM "* ' '' '^"^^
That woman's heart would seek to scan.
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V4^i9l .iJi<'r* . tr.'uW .W:/ ••>liii,i \
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'Then youthful hero quickly tell
Why thus in unpropitious hour,
Udiiw'd by virtue's potent spell,
Unchain*crt>y beauty'^s softer power.;
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Thou deem'dst thy slander could avail
One half thy species to condemn ?
•■'• ■-■'* •'>'!- :^-i.a:rfU
Know harsh abuse shall ne'er prevail ~ '
Nor harm, — for magic dwells with them;
■ ■ ■ ' * •■ ■■ •,■ » ■
Ah ! dread the vengeance of a witch,
Nor draw her wrathful curses down 1
Her weapons dire may overmatch
Man's lordly arrogating frown*
Behold my dwarf! That hideous form
Once stately—- beauteous charm'd the eye ;
j^ tow'ring pine that bravM the storm,
A blaze that warm'd 'neath Jetlaod's sky*
N -r
T ;^-
69
Behold hitn noiv ! — the monster lell
No more Ills hideous shape conceals,
His pomsbmentbe cannot tell, ^p, g. m< , , .;.
' No tongue his malice now reveals.
V
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»* A'-* .~ ' /»*i .--V iv't CJ (■-> '••' 'i^' -.' T^i^ . t ',■ "^ -*• A • fc
Then trifle not with Noma's wrath, „ i , ■ ;
To frifn^bi)^ still her heart is free, ^, ...j ,^,. ^j
And pities tho^e whom reason hath .i..- r , . ?
Deserted, as it now does thee.
' J ijfi.if X|i*'5i 't'f-f.I 'twvno -iiMiiVT* i.i?.. #;.'?« VV
Full well she knows the healing art,
, |J';•^•:f*•
Of balm and i^otm-wood prr 'estiiexise,
fi
TCe'fli^,'to«oothe the bleeding heart, '^ J J^^-'
TKe Iait,t6ch4bk whs* foul abuse. '''C-- -' *\
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ON A SUPPOSED COURTSHIP.
If the Naiads of old were for beauty ador'd
When love reignM both asdent and frcei— * '
If the Ancients each stream with its Deity stor'dj
Love's fav'rites — then why should not we ? " '
Where three tribute floods pour their waves to One
'^ stream, ,^•■>^r^hod;lli t^i^ui ^U ih;-? !!:/(
Dwells a maiden surpassing in grs^e,. ^ ,t^ ^ -, j
That stream reigns o'er all other waters supreme^
That mymph— the queen>nymph of the place. ,
While the moments all gaily and joyously fly,
To love and to pleasure resigned,
And Cupid, (young urchin) the wicked and sly,
Bids time with bis cares lagbejuod.
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71
teceive from the Muse ihat on beauty's smile liretf
The lay that would strive to combine
i. •
fVith thy fate all that love to the human heart gives,
E'en to that which dares scoff at his shrine.
'■ ff'fi r^i'A :[y\\ yi^:r:'}rh f^'-r ""*voI"j/
Tost glory each system-— each sect ever reaps
From proselytes newly converted, , . ' ,-
■ ,■■•*•;■■.• • ■; ■ i. , Vi};;f y,";,. riaj"
'he bird which he's found hard to catch the boy keepi,
By its struggles for freedom diverted. ^ '> ^ ^' *
''ct hard 'tis to tame it, since never again , ■, ^^ r,\Iyjli
Must it flutter from flower to flower,
^he joy of possession is subject to pain, **' —
And dread lest it fly from his poweri " *^ ' ' ' *'" V
[Then iSaiden ! with watchful solichude keep, '^ **^^ *'^
A captive consign'd to thy care; •><?•» i'> sy?»:' '.•%
I Lul 1 his heart on Love's softest rose-pillow to sleep, ^
•Tis %Uuanti(t^ri>s |iii»ar;tj|^^.; v,,^ , j brA
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TO A BELOVED OBJECT.
.'uAHStt i:\\\.ia i\'j-jfi ►'♦1i.fl f1'>A»v.- .'.:;[♦ C) f;^*l
Te lovers and rbymeni your folly beware !
Attend to full proof, for sucli jiere can W given.
That love may bum brightly Without Cupid's care,
Tho* the flame may not come as suppoeM just from
neaven* i-,«,»«j. >-»»». .•>#>• r,t.. > a i^* f,^?! j^'vlr-^^'^i^ fj^ -)..
Tor as the volcano supplied from below,
Refuses to bum by the rays 6f the sun ; "^ ' '^"^^
Or as steam comes from fountain^' wlidsel^oiliiDgs, o*iP*
flow ^u\uy\ »Vf ;::{4'»i* ti a >(«»«• >^<04 iu ^m^ .:
With health to the weak and th^ sick ^ t^ev nip^
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So the heatfhat Aowwai^si/^ re^e^^^he.A^injj^p a
And leaves it to drowsinesSilengaoFiandeaK^t;): >
May lightly th^'Hushanda'WBke&tfaeflamey'fl ciij I
And love may crejepliif cteii j^tefAil^j^ degree!^ ' '
73
,'VW<
nTis not the mad passion that bi^ty iais|>u'e8«^-»#
No animate object engages this lov6,'-i— f ^^ ;^ ""^ *^
The/re lyarms my heart with reciprojcal fires*.
Mjr attachment is jgreat— bat 'tis all for my 9^ove.
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ON A GENTLEMAN'S GIVING AWAY A
^ ' • FAVOURITE SPANIEL.
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Relentless the impulse, and grievous the theme,
That with painful reverse bids me turn from the dream
That else might have pictured thee all that was good^
{lid under the guize of each fanciful mood,
As from the delusion I painfully start,
To pause on fidelity thrown from thy heart
Poor Prince ! not a sigh nor a tear shed for the^,
Comes to hallow the tie from which now thou art free '
In the haii of the stranger alas ! thou must feed.
At the call of the stranger thy footsteps must speed.
The voice that seem'd music no more shalt thou hear,
No longer t^aress'd by the band that was deac,
'' -.1
f3
And long will the whistle's remembered note shrill
On thy ear, as the diige of thy happiness thrilt^
.»— Thy happiness ! — all that by heaven abovft t
* • ' I. ' ' . ,
Is granted to mortals, — permission to love.
But this man denies except in his own way;
And spurns the devotion a poor dog can payv
li
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Ah ! different far from the world's adulation^
The love that increases for paints consolation,—*
That self can quite banish from every reflection,
, And leave but the impulse that springs from affection.
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•IR MTALTBX IlALC16Tr*8 AI>V1CE TO HIS 80R IfeU
TUX SUSJLCT OP MATRIMOVY.
\ {VcrBificd from Campheir^ Magnzmt.y
Since Horace sung, and long before,
Has woman felt man^s tyrant power,
''False" and **fickle" are slight cbiirges
When disappointed man enlargesi
On weak woman's many failings,
While Ae, quite just in all his railings.
For truth and constancy renoun'd,
Her perfect contrast would be found*
But, — just by way of illustration,
A wise man once, in lofty station ,
Bequeathed his son a legacy
Of good advice, to keep him froi^
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Vtorxi all the turmoil care and strife .
That wait upon a wedded life.
♦ ..
"My son," be said, "love on — but think
' 'Tis better far to love than link
"Real thy years, — ^bethink thee when .
*' A sucking child, what thou didst then:
> T
" — Didst, love thy wet-nurse with aficctioa
^'Till wean'd thou mad'st a new election, '
'Thy dry-nurse then sufficed thy heart,
*'Q,uitn willing from the first to part.
"To boyhood grown say didst tl: '»u grieve,
" — Thy second favorite to leave?
" — The fate of these thy first two loves^
(' Their care no longer needfiil)^roTe|v
"That flo 'twill be 'in after years,'
"When beauty thy young heart ensoaret.
«'With ardour first the flame 1I#Ihiiii>
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".4i)d all to one tliy liking turn, . *.,
*'A second will that first supplant,
''Then for a third thy heart will pant,
**And so *twill be with many morei
"From one — two — three — up to a score,'*
Thus sung (or said)- Sir Walter Raleigh, ,
A knight for craAy wisdom fam'd ^
But sailors* hearts are somewhat squallyi
To dove-like constancy not tam'd.
I
Thus men, of woman's bower jealous,
\
Endeay'ring to degrade the fair,
(For their prerogative quite zealous)
Asperse what they should guard with care.
Blind to her chants her faults they chide.
Nor give (o nature'i weakneiii ]«m«iice f
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Their Jvift is but the slave of pride.
Or iort of household-stuff convenienci^
">
A wretched life we must sonfesi,
The Indiao hoi a better mode
His Squaw^his slave,— «o more—nor lesi,-^
To pound bis corn— -to lag bis loaid.
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'tLIKES ON THE MEDALLION HCAI9 OF ARIAPiVC*^*
Parodied.
And why should woman nerer love ? '
Throwing her chance away,
—Her only chance to shine.
When youthful years decax '?
Look into each old history^
And scan each Gossip tale,
They'll tell how spinsters* spleen has made
Their furrow 'd cheeks turn pale.
'' ■ ■ '- -^
Their selfishness, a noxious weed
Withering with very spite ; ^
*Afel7ot«t.
f*''
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A squeamish plant that loaves ho sccc(
Posterity to blight. , /
Look down into the silent grave,—
How much like death the doom
■V,
Of hearts that love has never v.arm'd,—
Their hearts a living tomb.
Look on their hours of solitude j-^^
Mow many lonely liour$ ~
When neither wife^ft nor mother's cares ,
Engage the soul's best powers ?
, -*• -^
Mark that grim face ! ah ! never blusli
Has passed o'er such a churl ;
And never o er a sterner brow
Has wav'd a barber's curl.
And mark how carefully those wrj&atbs
Of curls arc mng'd arouo^
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While cautiously her spite she brea(h^» ' '
'Gainst beauty io Io?e bouud.
**; "'TIS she despisM I what greater proof
Of woman^s destined lot ?
Their happiest doom, quern Nature's doW^r
Is envied — not foi^ot. " '
Heart wkherM — self-love torture^ ^
■> ' '
A life might pity move,
>
A path of thorns — these are hate*s giflts^
Then woman, why not lo? e ? *
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' SOLILOqUY OF SAPPHO.
♦
^PORK PRXCIPITATI90 HKR8ELF FROM TBB
^y ROCK OF LEVCADIA.
(From <A« FrwicA ofDemoustter.}
May the cold wave that now will receire me
From this burning bosom efface
All remembrance of grief, now I leave thcei (-
Great Neptune receive love's last trace I
Thy cold arms at last I will brave,
Great Cupid ! tby victim no more I ^
My last tears shall blend with the wave^
But oh ! I shall then love no more J
Leve no Uuore ! — whati no more shall his view
With trans uc'ft enrapture my soul ?
No more sec him mth joy ever new
•That thrills beyond mortal controls?
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jd^Iuttthis fancy ne*er picture again.
The smile that bids happiness live?
And this heart ooyer 8igb,not in vatrih
For the bliss that he only can give }
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•On the desolate shore shall I neverfw-
More wander the long day alone,
iLnd at night retura sadder than ever
For him. that still cause: my moan ?
Farewell then dear Hope 1 fond Illusion^
Frewell Love I thy soA spell could impart
While indulging the tender effusion,
' The sole solace to this widow'd heart*
»
Ah \ cruel one! still I odoce theej
Despite al! thy heart-rending scoro,
And thai for which most I deplore me.
Ingratel tsfrom Thee to be torpnl
', •»
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FORGET ME NOT.
1. 1
Forget me not ! sweet little flower,
Thou wert christen^ ia that happy hour,
When blooming like thee, the young spring
Of life could such confidence fling,
O'er the heart as could make it fc get
That like thee 'tis the Tictim of Fate i—
— That like thee tho* it bloom for a while
^Neath tlie sunlight of Hope's fairy smile^
Yet Inconstancy's merciless blast
May blight all its dear visions at last.
A? the breeze dashes thee on the thorn,
The young heart by the arrows U scorft
'^3^ran8fix'd, in keen anguish may bleec^
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And its fragrance in lonelinesi shed.
More happy the flowret that blooms
In the wilderness, tho' its perfumes
Unheeded must waste on the gale,
While the forest's protection doth veil
Its sweets from vulgarity's eyes, ,
Which know not thy beauties to priae.
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, TO THE SAME.
*
' orget me not ! yes, lovely flower thou*rt forgotten !
Thy charms were too flimsy not soon *o decay, —
'he south-wind has scorched thee,— the noon-ray has
shot in
The deepest receess where thy cl\picest sweets lay.
[as rifled thy fragjance, and drunk up thy juices.
And left thy parch 'd tendrils to moulder in the dust;
The rose-hud perks o*er thee with little ahuses,
To thy charm^slie succeeds—to thy fortune she must.
'« *■'■•'-
{Ev'n now the bland Zephcr too fondly is revelling,
Her bosom proud-heavM of ka blooms to bereave ;-
[The ruthless marauder still boastful is travelling.
To rifle new beauties, — new flowers to deceive.
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Theu enry her not — Iho' Iby glory u w»tted,
Just emblem of nature a lesson is thine ;
Like the ravishing zephry Old Time when he*s tatted,
The sweets of all things shall not heed their decline]
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PBTinOWOr A UNNXT CAVOHT Iff A UXED T^VIO.
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While here my weary wings 1 beat
With idle unevailing rnge,
And strive in vain my prisoned Tcet
From cruel snares to disengage,
Oh you ! who walk at large below,
And rove at will yon verdant field,
Have pity in a fellows woe,
And succour to the helpless yield !
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If e'er you scorn'd the arts of fraud,
Release me from a villain's chain, ,. ,
If e'er your breast with freedom glow'd,
Gire me my liberty again !
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Oq yonder spray my true-love sitf ,
Ami nunders why so long I roam ;•—
iiai'k ! how the broken lay she twits,
And calls in vain her wand'rcr home t
Beneath her hear my infant brood,
. With luud and unavailing cry,
Importunate demand the food,
Their captive father canH supply
Ifc'er you felt a lover's flame,
Oh ! let me to my love repair ;
If e'er you prov*d a parent's name,
Ah ! listen to a parent's pray'r !
Ind do not strive with barb'rous art,
To force irom me the captive's stsain :
Nor vainly think the freeborn heart
Can r.arrnt MWh<> beneath its cbaio.
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But save mc from oppressive force,
And give me to my native air ;
And so miiy angels guard your course,
And save you from each hidden snare.
For this each morn at dawn Til rise,
With softest notes your sleep prolong, ' ' ^
Or chase the tyrant from your eyes, '-'*
And wake you with a grateful song ♦ ^''^
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"THE JOYFUL COMING OF BIRDS.*
From yonder copse too thin for 8hade>
And faintly clad in green ;
Why burst such notes to cheer the glade,
And praise theseason^s queen ?
■i i't
Each breeze and flower that glids the sense,
To us new raptures bjing,
But do those Warblers learn fromhebce
To bail the coming spring ?
Ah no! they little mark the flower,—
They little heed! the breeze ;
VoT early beam— nor genial shower
Call forth such straias as these.
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Bat with their annual passion mov*«l
'Tifl love that bids them sing,
And still to love and be belor'd.
Is all they knOw of spring.
Shall man then life's chill winter feat
Whose bliss no seasons bound ?
^hall he who loves throughout the year
One hour in grief be found ?
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THE SPARROW.
A Sparrow long before the time
That birds are wont-to pair,
Of winter tir'd in northern clime,
Few forth to take the air.
She plum'd her wing's and look'd around
In hopes, her life to cheer,
A little mate might now be found,
To whom she might be dear.
But cold and dreary still did blow.
The wind which made her me
That unprotected from below
The thatch she ever flew.
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For many days the flattered roundv
In sad and doleful j^ight ;
Her scanty food picked from the ^ound,
And lonely past each night. .
But what the eTiIs we en4<ir%
That love don't soop^oFgi^t?
Or what the pains it cannot cure»
When hearts in oneai^ kpoit,?
The season now adTanc'd^ proclaims ,
From ev'ry bough and spra^,
That love's and nature's' tender ckdqaa.
Are all that birds obey.
t
No more the little wand'rer now,
Is doom'd to hop alone,
No more in helpless state to bow,-*-*
She lovei— her caros are flown.
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Fdr loye alone see now she lives
Nor joy cbq taste unshared ; • ^
Yet this pure bliss that nature gives
Soon leaves her unpreparM.
The summer months pass blithely on.
From glad heart? time fast goes,
Their broad is reared — ^their cares are flown
*^he reign of love must close.
m.
For winter, like the close of life.
Their longer bliss denies, —
Cuts short love's little day of strife.
And breaks the parents' ties,
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THE MOCJONGF BHM).^^
Among the thick fh^igikaieigilovite;
iThe Mock-bi^(!rt{ia«tfhc!r kj^/
Of evVy straits 'ttf<6'si^e^ieiiiei^' j^l^dvfef ,>
And sings ^ Hfe a#iiy.
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*Ti8 now the lark, and noi*. the thrush,
And now the red-bird*8 tones,
And ev*ry note in field or brush
Her saucy talent owns.
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And she tho* in the forest bred«
Seeks out the haunts of man«
From his hand freely takes the bread,
And seems his tones to scan*
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Then (torn this little social 1)iFd|
Let mankind learn the bibs
Of mntQiil benefits conferred
I9 such a world as this.
Nor dread the little playful wit
That sometimes may deride,—*
.«There is no blot until 'tis hit,''
And fear speaks much to {lidtk
f *ih-k"iiy'
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TO A HUMMINQ-BIRU^
{Thtfirtt seen by the Author in Canada,)
Little bird why thui risit my bower f
Like its owner 'tis desolate all, ^-v- '
T he guest that but seeks the gay flower,
At the bowe^ of pleasure should call.
The hum of thy gossamer wbg
Iq the summer's short triumph display'd
More welcome than thousands that sing
Unmark'd in the thick southern shade.
G o--go n^Tef more to return,
To the climes of the south fly away ;
There mayst thou still fearless sojourtk,
Npr winter thy flutt'rings betray/
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WRITTEI^ OyjUN^ lA THUNQJPR STORM.
The distant thnhder deep xeboiudiiig,
Nature's Toice in igrandeur sounding)
Strikes a 'Cbord tbaif a like h&t oivm <
With syinpatby .to fooJs ORfknown.
While thoughtless mirth giyes way to fear»
And weakness sheds the coward tear,
'\ .... - 1 -v . ■ .
Woe dignified can list the storm
That nurture brings ev*n to the worm.
The lightning's flash can rouse the spark
That shews our mind ali99 ! hpw dQf;!)
Or if a ray. cap eii^t^r thjei^s
'T is but to strike with dqiQb despair
The tow'ring pride that seeks to scap
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"The great first cause'* by mortal plan,
Ah i if the human mind could know,
£*en how the blade of grass doth grow,
'T were time enough to scan the power
That blesses it with sun and shower,
The storm that rends the bturdy oak,
If sent by him whom they invoke.
Unscathed had led the guiltless tree,
But not man's arrogance go free.
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ON TAKING LEAVE OF A RESPECTED t'RIEND.
{Written on board the Steam'Boat Phanix.y
Adieu to the stranger whose manifest worth
Bespeaks his descent from my own native shore )
His the greatness without the presumption of birth,— |
The charms of society — from flattery pure.
There's a sympathy tent to congenial- minds,
Like fire drawn from heaven that enters the hear
Which looks not to country but closer still binds,
'Midst the turmoil of prejudice passion and art.
Then let me the flattering thought still indulge,
' That ascribes not this meeting to fortune alone,
But that Fate her decrees who will never divulge,
Thus in willing thy kindness has shewn me her owtfl
p/-t»
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And long fvill thoiie intVcsting moments remain
Heart-impreBsM while I grieve that so lOon ihej
have fled,
Tbo sad was one 8ubject,^yet prov*d not in vain,)
*7/cr talents and virtues when you moum*d the dead
While memory aroused from her sharlowy cell,
In brightness transcendent a moment reviews .
That Being so short time permitted to dwell
In a world where my tribute «he would not refuse.
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Oh ! sbade'of my friend grant me tho^ts to adore thee !
Deign to hover a moment !-»Thy eloquence once
C ould bewitch every heart, — ^grant me words to de-
plore thee !
To struggle like thee with the ills that enhance
Life*8 few fleetlhg pleasure8,--on thee to look back,
To dwell on thy virtues,— thy greatness of mind,
*Se© Notes.
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Tb at a funey to the horrors of Ocean -s wild wreck,
. Thro* Death's shadows triumphant a passage could,
find.
That still unappal'd tho* thy grief for a father
Must embitter the joy that thy trials wer -^ast ! •
While panic-struck beings around thee wo'^ld gather,
And see thy sofl frataie braving death to the last.
Tho^ no dirge has been sung and no monument raised,
Columbia has mournM as if shorn of her beams*
This star of the north, thrO' hiir union that blaz'd, —
That shone on her mountains and ''ilded her streams.
As south east and west like a sylph m eh she roam'd
Exploring her country — its wonde ; ^its powers,
Atj^acted by science, Ohio was doom'd^
The scene of her studies — those halcyon hours
Which ne'er can return. — ^tho* now hopeless the heart,
^1
vj -
And £aeble iJiii^ liand that here fain woidd juuroi
I Past sc eoeis, .fQ,r (hey go like a dream when we «tar^
They CQiine like 4iightViDeti^r o'er Ossian's darl^
soul.
And now, bo me on the wave which was .erewhile the
scene
Of the battle's red tide, — of war's murdering blast,
I When Brittons despising o'er Ocean to reign,
Forsaking his realm from his favour were cast^
I No more to return to their own wide domain.
Here perished those warriors noble and brave ;—
- '
[From each shore has re-echo'd the knell of the slain,
As a kindred contending have sunk in the wave.
Whose broad-bosom'd current, tranquilly flowing,
Regardless of man's slender line in its course,
To both rival nations an emblem is shewing
Of the blessings of union in friendship and force.
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Tl^en long may contiime the concord that reigu^
On the shores of the rich-mantling forest around,
That again I With joy may revisit those plains,
Where generous friendship and kindness abonud^
i^gain meet the friend I Ve so recently foundb
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tINES TO GENERAL D******%^
From Chiinborazo*s monarch brow ,
Fame spreads her wings for distant flig|it>
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A hero's name she echo's now,
Each patriot bosom to delight.
O Thou ! who 'mid fate adverse shone,
When exil'd from thy native land«
With Erin's yirtues all thine own,—
Virtues that every heart command.
And, towering o'er the **little G^eat,"
Chastis'd the arrogating pride
Of upstart with that name elate,
Which Europe in her strength defied^
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Thy worth in priyate life was known t
The friend devoted — heart sincere ;'—
And thence, tho' now thy star has shone,
Thy mem*ry most to me is dear.
i*- ' a
Thy name now Fortune ushers forth,
Which conscious Fame long since had spread ',
But that she knew thy modest worth
Distrusted her capricious aid.
' 'i ti&iV^'
On Andes* top thy form is bright.
In Quito^s walls thy name resounds
Thy country*s claims thou goest to plight
With Kingdom's of earth's utmost bounds.
', And from "the Children of the Sun**
To those who dwell in frosty i^ht
Proclaim the mighty work begun
Which man restores to his birthright.
■mi
109
And as tbou goest/^approving thought
Shall <:beejr thy way o'er desert snowi i
The end that's by thy country sought
The only wish thy bosom knows* ^
■.,»■
d spread
While silent now the snaky thongue^.
And venomless the baleful breath
Of calumny that would hare strung
i
Thine with the names desei#ing death/
■ / . '
Tor still in eyefy hardship ^ed»
Soaring aboTe that skulking fi^nd.
In open day to blast the pride
Of tyrants vnB thy aim-— now g9in'4
Great D******* receive the will.
Which for the deed would faia eipreit»
The memory that lingers still
6f former scenes that on it preii^
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Had I but skill to string the lyre,
Ca]r4fertli for tllee niyToice«iioold.Tiie
Triumphant, fiped by firtendthip's fire,
And Bound thy prtuMS to the skiet .
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TO A YOUNG POET.
{On hearing him rctittfm' the Jint fARf .)
Thy youthful lyre rings ^t;roog and sweet,
From high Parnassus's brow,
But vainly would my feeble feet,
Sustain me there to bow.
Far distant now the sotim
With admiration true
Foreboding the applauding cheer,
■ I , - . ■ •
The world reserves for you,
When Byron's mantle round thee Waves
In folds of chaster form.
And critic wit that talent braves
In thee may dread the storm.
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Think not this flatl'ry i Far from md
That paltry trade of art, —
'Tis instinct bids the poet see
The fount whence flows hia pvtv
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ADDRESS TO FANCY,
....
Of present woe find future care.
My heart the anxions tho^ts forego 1
Tho' pleasure's moments he but rare,
fiid Fancy gilci them as they flow l
/
Her magic wing can lightly SQttrr
■ ■ '^^ /
Too high for grovelling care to reach*— *
J
Despite life's tempest w|n the shore,
Where Joy sports on the flow*ry beach*
"Com e then potent charm 1 — for never, .
To mortal was thy form more dear 4
And be thy dress more bright than ever,
Thine accents those youth lov'd to hear
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And come Thou Memory ! — Fancy's friend
For where she fails ; thy kindly aid
Can call up visions without end ;
• Come both ! nor be my trust betray M.
Oh ! bear me to the flowery vale,
IVhere flows Ohio*s beauteous stream :
From woodland and from cultured dale
Recal of yoiiyi the fairy dream.
mk!
Bhngback tbemocklQg-bird's sweet song,
The gent|ilmoaiiing-cto?e^s coihplaint ;
The red-birdV s|wightiy bote prolong,
And whip-p^i^will so loud and quaint.
" ■ ■ I
^%Dd wisdom's bird, whose iron sway
The cWisters instinctivtEi sliun ;
Tho* l)Teii%^re tliecfeati^niog j
115
And give me back to scent the flowers
That glisten with a thousand dyes ;
*Neuth April suns and April showers,
Rewarding zephyrs constant sighs.
And let the soil and murmVing flow
Of long:lov'd La Belle Riviere ^
Awake the enthusiastic glow
That mantled o'er my heart when there.
Rouse latent taste to view its grand
Majestic overwhelming sweep, •
When its once glassy bosom bland
Breaks forth a proud and mighty deep.
But iF^ancy fails me here, — ^the theme
, ., » > ■
Requires the mind's gigantic swell ;
And grandeur felt but as a dream*
The muse no more vouchsafes to tfiW,
\
i
*
I
1 '.
, \
I -
»v.
■'<i
'1 '
, THE
I.
Like mournfut echo Arom the silent tomb
That pines away upon the midnight air,
Whilst the pale moon breaks out with fitful gloom^
Fond memory turns, with sad but welcome care
To scenes of desolation and despair,-^
<ince bright with all that beauty could bestow,
That peace could shed, or youthful fancy know.
•^.«-:
**/*
lit
II.
To the fair Isle ! reverts the pi«af fng dreuoi,
Again thou riseit m thy green ftttire }
Fresh as at first thy blooming graces seem,
Thy groves, thy fields their wonted sweets respire,—
Again thou*rt all my heart could e'er desire :«-'
Oh ! why dear Isle art thou not still my own i
Thy charms could then for all my griefs atone.
The stranger that descends Ohio^s stream,
CharmM with the beauteous prospects that ariie, '
Marks the soft Isles that 'neath the glist!ning beam
Dance in the wave and mingle with the skies,
Sees also One that now in ruin lies,
Which erst, like fairy queen tow' red o'er the re8t«
b every native charm by culture dressed
i' 1
I
; (
h
tif
, • .'^rt ^
/
■?^
f^ ». ■ ■ - V ^- > • . '
118
IV.
Mi:
«^IFhere rose the scat where cnce, in pride of ilife
'l^t^y eye could piark the queen of riyers flow,
In summer's cahoaess or in winter's strife,
Swol^n with the rains or baffling with the snow \
— Never again my heart swh joy shall know :-••
Havoc and Ruin and rampant War have past
Over that Isle with their destroying hlast. ;
.■■.,- ^
The blackening fire has Swept throughout her halts,
The winds fly, whistling thro* them, and the wav<e ^
No more in spring-flood o'er the sand-beach crawls^ '
But furious drowns in one o'erwhelming grave
The hallow'd haunts it waterM as a slave :— >
Drive on destructive flood ! and ne^er again
On that devoted isle let man remain I
/-
'»^i< wi*iii Kfli «.,» ^. ». .H« je..,.. _,. ,..,.«,,„ ^,.-„,.,,«tj,
'■%-'t
jr.
119
VI,
Toomaiiy liMdsful'niiomentfl'tlMre IVe known,,
Too many faoi»es htnre there met their decay,—
Too many feelings now forever gone
To wish thiat thou^ould'st e'er again display
The joyful colouring of thy prime array ;—
Buried with thee let them remain a blot,—
With thee their sweets, their bitterness forgot ;
.;■' vii. ■
And oh ! rf hat f cotild^holly wipe away
The memory of the ills that WorkM thy fall !-
The memioi^ of that'a]l-ey<'mtful day
When I retum*d and found my owii fa^r hall
Held t>y the infuriate populace in thrall, —
»
My own fireside blockaded by a band [ -
' That once found food and shelter at my hand (
I'll
'■ ii
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f- ,
J^\.i.fi»t»r .^^
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.••.V-,:.
'■U
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yiii.
"
^,
My children ! ^Ah ! a mother's pangs forbeai^
Nor strike again that arrow thro' my soul !)
Clasping the ruffians in suppliant prayer
To free their mother from unjust controul.
While with false crimes and imputations fpv|y
The wretches— vilest refuse of the earth
Mock-jurisdiction held around my hearth {
IX.
iBweetlsle! methinks I see thy hosom torn.
Again hehold the ruthless rabble throng
That wrought diestruction taste must ever mourn V^
Alas ! I see thee now«^-shall see thee long
Yet ne'er ^haU bitter feeling uige the wrong
That to a mob would give the censure due
To tbos^ who ana'd the plunder-greedy creiTv'
Tyrants
--t%-
«1
A« ...
I Tyrants of tdbertyl (name so ador*d -^i
ISf crowds to lawless demagogti^s a prejV
I Who, cheated by the ever-echoing word,
Feel not their liberties are filch'd away,
Themselyes the tools of base Ambition's sway;)
I'Twas yours to loose **the dogs of war," and cry
<Oifc-^n the Traitors ! Strike for Liber^.
'•■■ * XI. ■■
t»
'ii
I
■('
! m
.
■I'
.M'
(■-■'■ ^ £.■ *■ ■
• v:^;^'V^^-»j- .
rhy shores are warmed with bounteous suns in vaini:
Columbia ! if spite and envy spring, ^ /
["o blast the beauty o^ Q^i^^ nature's ^ eign :•«
The European «tranger who wolild tfing
O'er tangled-woods refinements* polishing^
lay find (expended every plan of taste)
^
h works by ruffians render'd doubly waste; , , ,,
I4 . ",'- -..- '''^.'.^-.-^
i y
..Y'r:*-
V2t
XII.
">
'8elf-dubb*d philosopher !-^the mob*8 delight !
Thy *loofning Scieoce like thy mflmmoth's booet
From quiet earth shall ne'er be draggM to light.
Then pray (if thou canst pray) in humble tones.
That trying Death who no distinction owns
From Freedom's shore may sweep thy coward namei
And saye Columbia such4)lot of shame !
XIII.
For thee no patriot lyre shall e'er be strung,
Foul stain of Liberty ! the rabble's choice !
ISTot e'en thy bombast from the chair that rung
Shall live in future generations' Toice,**
Thybaletiil slang no more make fools rejoice ;
For who would sound the blessings of thy reign,
|n
ponfed'rate vile of Atheists and Tom Paint I
•m
^^ l^Twa^i vs4t» atx Virg^niR.
i,i#4«
t I
K
-j^*XJi
XIV. "'•"
Orcat shade of laarel'd Washington arise i
Methinks I see thjr haloed frowning brow,— ^
Indignant see thee turn thy piercing eyes,
Thy Toice exclaims***^" Where are the heroes now
"Who bled for Freedom, that the rabble low
"Dare thus uncurb'd, on Freedom's sacred shore,
V Their' vengeance oo defenceless woman pour.'*
" " XV.
Thine was the soul that knew no base intent
By cringing arts to win the mob's applause ;
^hy purpose on thy country's welfare bent,
In arms thcu'rt foremost to maintain her cause,
And having freed e8tabli«h'd her with laws :-«
How must thou weep illustrious shade I — to sie
Thy plans perverted by Democracy'!
'• M * ; »■
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I •>'
I
, >
i
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iS4
XVI.
freedom do teore— wild Anarchj restraint,
With jarring interests the leTelling throng)
Busy Ambition erery effort strains,
The fangs of tyranny to plant among
-I
The very mob by whom his curse is rung.
Spare — spare me from that phantom of eqwiUfff.
That equah men in knavery and brotqiitj \
■' .?.
•#:
.--_.;• -^
^-jitmrn--^ •*m^-'"
'»••■» .. , Vt J «- •^•— - I.
4* ■
i t.^:
HOW THE SONG WAS MADE.
i\tn.tHt^
Samho, — Ab! Massa Joatan, dat bery fine song yoA
{tb me.^ When you go^n to make dat song bout dee Pre-
ludent an all dee peoples, an all dee tings what you prom*
be noder day ? — Massa Jemmy go'n to N ' putty
pooo,<— I no hab time to wait for em.
/onatAon.-'-T-Whaigh ; I do'ne know Sambo, I hunt
is got abayout it yit, but I inten' teu, some rainy day
^r nother when we git done hayin.
r Sam, — Dat dee ber ting-I come down nex' rainy day
fetch my banjo— >pky him all de times when yoa
lakiD him. %i--- , 1
7on.— Well — I guess nayow, that woald be a purty
oodpian Sambo— 'for, some-hayow-or-notber, I'm not
sry 'Cute bayout makm varses only when I know the
Ibe,-— so I awlus has to git my wMnan, or somebody
I'sgot agQod voice to' sing the tines ove^ as I go on, to '
lee ef they're of the right lenth. Nayow, ef you'll
lest bring dayown that'are gourd-fiddle, a* your'q,
loa can play over the words as fast 's I make'em, and *
|hen they git long enough, fer the teune, I'll put th«
jiymea jteu 'em. — I'm proper good at makin rhymes,.
you know Sambo, that's awlus the hardest part on't,
iJ^-
-T'
M.
:A'.
ise
&im. — You man a* great larnirt Massa Jonfan — I
Want to know why dey always hab to make 'em rhyme
in de song ?
Jon. — ^Whaigh Sambo, I have got party considerable
good larnin, though I never love to brag onH. — I got it
most all on't myself teu. I went to school four wintero
to old Major Beechem, but I use to have to come home
every aternoon to cut wood and fddder cattle. — How-
somdever old Major Beechem use teu say, I was the
smartest scholar he ever knoW'd in all his life. I uie
to have a. proper good memory, soH I know'dthe Spel-
Ifn-Book all by heart, from eend to eend, the secoud
time we went tbreu it.
' 5am.^But, Massa Jontan, what dee reasoft o^ ^ee{
rfiynae ? ^ i ' .
Jon. — Whaigb Sambo, I guess you Ikever studded
much into the nater of the thing, or else youM under*
stand it 's quick's a wink. Whaigh, that's a part of the
teune Sambo,— the song would'nt sing at all witbayoui
the rhyme.
fiSam.— 'Why Massa Jontao, you man a great larniti'
dat for sartin, — ^you make him so plain^ I understand
him so plain 's neber ni^er can do. I don't tink Mas*
sa Jemmy know him half's well. What teune you go'ne
to make President's sopg, Massa Jontan ? ^ ..
Jon, — ^Whaigh, I thought abayout makin it to yankee*
doodle, like that one you see'd tother day. That's the
teune 1 know the best, but I guess it's rather teu old
nayow ; an they say the Canada-foUcsarebeghmio'to
m«ck us abayowt it. '^^^ ** '
3s»;''
It?
reasoA o* deel
iSbm,—- Ah 1 'Massa Jontan, I telFu good tune. "Pos*
sum up dee gum tree'*-— drefful good tune — all dee fash-
ion wi'dee high peoples — Missa ****f*** tell de nig-
ger-fiddler play him in dee great Ball at Awleens.
Jofi.-— But Sambo, money's a purty scace article
uayow-a-days, an 1 han't got no good paper to write it
ontu«
S^am.-^Neber care for dat — I tell Massa Jemmy we
go'ne to make song bout dee President — ^he gib us plen-
ty paper — tell ns plenty tings bout dee President — all
bout he life. — He be dee hero Ehl Massa Jontan ? —
Massa Jemmy say dey always write bout dee heto^-he
great man always dat are hero — he almost big as gen'al.
Jon, — Whaigh — ^you don't say so Sambo. £f so b^
H he will, I shall be quite chirk abayout it. ■^*'*'
Sam.'^Oh ! Massa Jemmy know all bout de Presi-
dent — he lib close to Massa Jemmy's house — I know
all he black peoples.
Jm, — I vags ! that'll be gest the thing Sambo— an
mebby your mastei*'ll show it to the President — an the^,
ef he laughs abayout it, he'll mebby make us a present
asomethin'. I've benthinkin on another plan but you
mus'nt tell on't to no-body Sambo — We got kin of a
notion the President '11 be comin this way nex' summer
— >so I'll be watchin when he passes an' hail him, — ^th^n,
when he stops to shake hands, I'll ges make a present
teu him of the varses,
Sam. — Ah ! Massa Jontan — I tell you nodertingbes*
of all— when dee Presidetitcome to Mass Jenuny'a house
» .:"
:■. ■! '
■|.
&
.1 -..- •> ■■;
V
H»
f
-nei* winter— t go ta brush be coat-— pal dee song in he
pocket.
Jon^ — Well — T*m railly somethin^ of n notion that will
be the best way ater all. But I gaess it's abayoui
time for me to go an^ grind my scythe on the griouitun —
Mind yoQ bring the paper Sambo !
Sam, — Neber fear dee nigger.
Jon, — Stay, — Oh ! wife ! I'm afear'd that arc ink-
9tun*9 all dried up — You must send Nathan ater some
sof-maple bark to make plenty ginst the next rainy daj
—an' I han't got no good goosequills nother,**' ^^ '^
Smn^-^lieXk^u where *ii git em,— -i see some gooses
toder day down by dee mill-pond — I t'mk em drop some
ledden dare.
:\Ut.
-<•
I . ■ . • ■ . I ; ; ■ ■ ;
■''•
■ -
X.{
'■■^
f
TH£
T« ike Tune o/*—^** possum up deb oum-treis.*'
(With Cl(t$8ieal Annotatiom by Sambo.)
'"^Poirum vp'iee gtm-tree'^Raeoon in dee holhw, Z
**Figinif reehlt*i$ dance daymun^let all dee varmints foUovrP
Taiikee-doodle^t not the tean«— a. JackttlV in the ^haitf
So gnossin* folks from gayougin* folks had or't to keep em dar^.
We calculate the notion nayow, of bein* nation Iree,
And Broad-horns must be dam'd, or bayow to Buckskin TenneiN
see.
While ye of neigfabVin* mushroom growth come neigh to the !)»•
tator,
hB9o more to kick m flap your tails— half-hoss half-alligator ; *
But either gallop sink or sweim t' obey the voice o' thunder.
That shakes the Stipes as if 'twould split '6m eeny most assunder.
Whose oaths an' threats like earthquakes shake great Kaintuck^
slippery Clay^*
t
1
1
f,.
* Ah ! Massa Jontan dat bery hard line— I no able play em.^<>^
fle so good DO how OldKaintuck— hab too uucbdnfare CUOf,
V.I
•il^ '"
<•»
t9»
ii
1/
^utthat*! no itwigii-«for I alltyow •'Caoh dog mint hare klf
day.**
Den poi«um vp dee gum'tree-^Raeoon in de hottowt
From 7\Aekekoe to Miniuip^ let ail det Jack-knives fott^w,
Tet savage b«Asti eon coax an crayouch— like Iambi appetfr
quite good.
An' some soft moments still are felt by painter in the wood ;
Lookin* quite soft, when Pluto-like he snatched his Proserpine,*
Tho' She poor $hoat ambition lacked a Qneen in Hell ten shine^
But Love alone then **rurd the roast,'* when leavia' steupid spay"*
ouse,.
A buxom (lame quite frisky gfown, she seoffd at Hymen*tt
vayows; ^,.^*4iMHiS».
While her rantin* roariu* hero nayow toiet her below the linc^
Long known to sever all restraint-where rogues alone may thiat.
An glidiu' dayown the muddy stream— reposin* it is said,
Nut on Lovo*s softest roses sweet— but on a quick-lime bed;-
Till Cupid,:|: foJhV a bad tunh the Furies gave in charge,
Ten guard their chosen favourite and safely steer the barge.
* Missa Prospioe ber putty gal— Massa Pluto run away wid |
her rause she so putty— He big man dat are f /ti/c— ]\Iassa Jem-
my say he presulent too.
t Who dat Hynum Massa Jontan ? Whaigh Sambo I gness yoO
•rt to know that. — Hymen was a priest that use to marry 'em
with a b oom-stick lighted at one eend. DidVit you never hear
'em talk abayout "jnmpin' over the broom-stick ?'*— That meant
when they don't git married by Hymen.
I >|Ah! Massa Jontan, stop a little — I play you little long bout
4at are Cupid— Massa Jemmy lam him tu me.
*«Cupid little hunter-boy,— he shoot 'em in dee heart,
«Dey tink hk neber go away — Oh ! so bad he smart |—«
^Cupid laugh to see ho arrow gib '«>m drefful pain,
' ^ ,^**Den h3 pull be arrow ovit«-Afli aeber cgoie again.**
:J;<.,
'?!>.
16 M
ittit hire Uf
Vfhm h iMm' l!«eth« hmt keep* ap flnt fcn»*d by Cupi^ cif^ ;
An' mtnly oatlu the place lapply of vayowa to soothe the fair.
rieaa*d fall m well mnain'd uhore the husband all forsaken, /
Another help-mate there teu And for her by hero taken,*"
The Fates decreeing then no dayoubt a lesson very pure.
That Liberty should cherish still the flaws it caoaot cure.
Den potnun up de* gtm-tree~^Raeoor, in dee kottow^
De Jackal got him wife bojft !—kt all dte vcrmirUt/oUouf.t
The Jackal with his rough brayown hide, once fiird with goo^•
den Burr$t
Whose out-stretoh'd paw on other brutes importance high eon-
fers;
By rifle law the rank he holds no more to be disputed.
The forest nayow he roams at large to cut an' slay deputed, ^
So ye true sons of Liberty ! and boastin' high renayown.
The Feds no more shall skeer ye nay|ow—>their notions well pull
dayown,
Henceforth shall ayour Columbia all other nations shayme,
Embassydors leb^equious shall bayow before ayour dayme,
And gravely eye the no .el scene, delighted with the fun,
iVho never setr'd sich sights alore they came to Washington.
I guess they^l find we beat 'em all when they see Fed'ral City,
* He no care about he wife like Miss Prospiue ma' care for she,
datter. She go ebery where—all over de world — look-— look— •
look for she datter— ask ebery-body if dey see Miss Prospine.— ^
Den she git pair wings— go 'way up in dee sky, higher *n all dee
clouds, an' allde mountains in dee world. She no nnd Miss Pros-
pine dare. I>en she git big pine light— dig deep bole in dee ground
T-^o way down— doMm deeper 'n all dee seas— look — ^look for
Miss Prospine. — When he wife run 'way in dee lime-boat — he
IMber look for her 'tall— he git ooder in dee woods doges^s wi^JUf'
tAngJIhewifoieiw
•I
■ «;*«/
if they don^ fhink it mighty niMi^hy n«yow<— St it a pity ;«»
,^v?.'^,
"'>^>
We sarting cut all nations ayoat iHtl) ayoar inventions— caase ii^
Ayour city there's no noise nor fuss— gest l^iilt to make the laws in.
And here youll find tqwdUy of every plan the basis,
And allth||pi44ic buildings pat for this in sepVate places:—-
Which a;ives iia all a chance you s ee— I awlus thoug^ht 'twai pity
''They did'nt make America all intu one great city.
And in ayour city they may luu from Buckskin King aod Queen»
Who keep their levtes every night as grand as e'er you seen.
To dance all sorts a' dances, and tu dress as rich as goold,-»
««^y Missis Jackal up an' dayown '^the Figure a four" is rul'd
''^'^'isioA-Wl^ you'll seethe £mbassydo:rs from every foreign land,
With bayow and scrape so mighty slick— come up to take her
hand:
Uayew hands across — move right an left— 4tart straight dayown
tiireu the middle
Lah'd a massy on us ! an't it fine ?— >I vayow I loves the fiddle !
PI ay possum xq> dee gum-tree — Racoon in dee hoU&Wt
,^_^ TVhile missis Jackal leads the dance^et none InU varmints fot'
hv>.
- -S'./jr^
Nayow— go to London, France an' Spain— an' all the for'in na-
tions,
Toull see their lords an' cayounts an' deukes a stiddn' in their sta^
tions
As stifi* as wax-work all the while, — ^tarnation take their pride!
An' no poor man presaumes to dare to come anear their side.
Or if they should the soldieit, Sir, would quidter make'em fly.
With bagonets they'd ittick'em threu a« quick 's you'd wink your
. *8ye.
9ut blessins on ayour Liberty !^-we 've no sich things to scare ue.
#^ #>A c e at i drum an' guns, an' gtwrds— » multitadt icfaiiMf*
, t
■¥■■
We hau*t no aeed of sich restraioivaty our actions teu ene»mpi«^
It wa'ut but Hother day the Embassydors kick'd up a rumpusi
r
Because, when crowdin' ott to see the President's lev^e,
We happenM to shove— ^or toant a guardt'—their lordships
ayottt o* the way.
With us nayowr— every sober decent clever man can go,
To ball or lev^e— 'mongst the best his head straight up to shew^><v>
Nayow— ef John Bull should see a farmer walkin* on before him
Who offered him his horny fist—he'd scourgie his indeeorunit*
But here we say (in Liberty's most friee and happy land)
I t^Hayow are you Mr. President ?" an' shake him by the hand.
Denpoimm up dee gum-tree-'Reuioon in dee hoUow% " '
Let eVry nation lam f rem dis equalitjf iofollow.
a"&'
An' nayow— ef I had time to a^ow, or you had time to liear mi^
I'd tell bayout ayour inventions— which, says my unde Jeremy^
'^Beat other nations all teu si^uff."— There's first that grand con-
trivance
I States-prison, where rogues ne'er git ayout when they deu there
arrive once,
[Buttiiere they stick teu drudge an' delve till they are hone|t
felluz, ^ t
Wheras John Bull would h<ing fi man for stealio* twenty dullaz,<r
\n awful shame !— wl^ile nayow with us— for evei^ o-ime pro-
portion'd,
3o many years we clap'cm in jail, which makes States-prison
more shunn'd
"ban twenty hangin's,tho' some folks declare that many a sinnef
Vould steal a boss, or coaeac ges teu git safely in there,
*Dat are lon;^: word mean badhavin'a — Iviassa Jemmy tell ipe
0— he ben to Valc-Collt^i.> — ne bring Uomelibap long wordiTP*
le bes' lamia in all d«« worlu—iviai^a Jemmy j
i^:.
.-l:-^*'
;^
■■--iit^
•<!
. ■ Jl • /
134
Mf^M
■mat
■ Then there's ayour gun-boats and ayour Steam-boats^-^whj
, but we e^er tho*t
To make the water carry us when the wind blows or not ?
And as for fightin' last war shows, an' teu all i^es will,
Hayow ayour inventions '^bore the bush" from Captain Bobadil.l
I guess the British boys 'd afayoond, by killing each his inan-a>|
day,
£f Bouey had'nt ben froze up, we'd soon a taken Canada.
An' then for larnin'«--every one must sartingly acknowledge
' What other people only git by twenty years at College,
We larn in teu-three years at least, teu a boy that's purty sma
By gittin' Webster's Spellin-Book an' the Grammar^ooks
heart.
When these grayound-works are well put in, (which no i
need'nt dayoubt to gain,)
There's little dawnger as I think, that they will e'er git ay out i
igain;^
For that's the very wedge an' beetle which threu all will drive,]
An' heavy skulls an' empty skulls by it will eqiuil thrive.
By it ayour little garls are taught Bellettres at the school.
And at pathetic parts are made to sigh an' cry by reule.
An' that's the reason ; I opine, why we're so well infawin'd.
As 'tis eonfess'dby every one who threu ayour land has roam'd.
An' fuddermore, with us youli find the best a' £!nglish spoken, |
Of ayour fine edducasheon a most convincin' token,—
Look at ayour Congress* orators,*— what most purdigious
speeches.
An' hayow e^h priest in meetin'-hayouse, an' at tea-table
preaches ^
"f he first know all the ticklin'-strings by which ^ teu twitcbl
nation,
'PxB last deal ayout the biggest dose of-^-Eesence oi Salvatiop.
135
:eam-boats*<^whj| An^ then for poems—Romances an' all sich works of Genus,
Whaigh ! tho' we men tomakin' varses seldom deu demean us,
(Leavin' sich things ascuttin' up words intu rhymes an* measures,
As only fit for little boys' an' women-folkses .pleasures,)
But yit we've writ enough teu show the world we leave all far
low, /
Videlicet ColtmUfiadhy Poet Joel Barlow*
na or not ?
» will,
Uaptain Bobadil.
each his man-a<
m Canada,
acknowledge
t College,
hat'spurty sma
raminarJ)ooks
I, (which no 1
1 e'er git ay out t
iNayow, I preseume you' ve larn't enougli— so, fear youll think
mereude,
1 1 guess, I blieve; I calculate,— I reckon 111 conclude.
JBut first, should any critter think this is in ridicule, ' '
(ill tell him leu his face an'eyes, he is a Carnal fool I
V*
Den possum rvp dee gum-tre.-'-Racoon in dee hollow^
Let tb^ry varmint larnfrom dis-'dec Jackal King to follow.
mall will drive, I
al thrive,
the school,
)y reule.
11 infawin'd,
and has roamM.
IHnglish spokeDi |
>ken,—
st purdigious
"'■' c
f ,
)' at tea-table
h.teu
e of Salvatiop.
5 ;;l,i^
::J/l:.h.' ::fr--
*
am
no THE NAVY OF GREAT BRITAIN.
Cnce more, my little lyre of humble choice,
What tho* thy untun'd chords are feeble all
Unwilling oft togive the feeling voice
Or when for grief or when for love I call.
"f et once a bolder note vouchsafe ! — 4he theme
Too venturous I own for thee to achieve,
But quit thyself as lyre it doth beseem,
And then to long repose thy strings I leave.
Strike to the Lords of Ocean \ Let me raise
The tribute due to naviil gallantry,
Wherever England's peerless flag displays
Its proud deminion o'er the subject sea t
ill
;i1
■«V»...«rf %■ ■ •*. ,, »-j« -w 4
137 ..
iroald not tell of countless thousands faU'D
WhelmM by her thunders into ocean's caves,
rhile the sear'd sea with the red tide was swollen »-•*
Sleep they in peace beneath the briny waves^
iTis the renown for honour which her sons
Spread thro* the world the herald of their name,->^
[he spirit of bravery which thro' them runs > ., ^
They still surpass by chivalrous acclaim.
^eath to the proud — protection to the weak—
A heart for gentleness-^a hand for war—
lory the only guerdon which they seek,-—
These are the triumphs of a British tar.
[urs'd on the boundless deep, their hearts are free,**
Long prov*d in hardihood their wills are bold^ y >
pen and warm to generosity, x •f:^
To interest and baseness only cold.
m
i
138
It may be, that the air which they inhale
I9 ;jpurer, freer than th^ landsman breathes,
And that Old Ocean weighs in loAier scale
The hearts of those whom with his crown h
wreathes,
It may he — that uprooted from the earth,
Torn from its ties, and toss'd the world aroun
Their fortunes* rudeness hritigs to light their wo|
As wave- worn pebbles are more polish'd fouodj
I know npt^but, for every grac« that warms
With generous impulses the manly soul,
For aH thiat dignifies — exatfs-^isarins
Of selfishness and grovelling control.
"»
—For native nobleness unwarp'd by art.
Give me— (I speak disdaining adulatioo)
Give me the seaman's rough but genuine heart I
And it shall have^my warmest adourationi
inhale
in breathes,
er scale
his crown hi
earth,
world around
light their woj
polish'd fouDdj
hat warms
alysoul,
inns
titrol.
)yart,
lulation)
snuineheartr
Imirationi
lt(D^Ii@<
h
s
If '■
• - ■-*
I :,, .11
:i.'
Page 32— line 16.
^'By the dark head of treachery at last doomed to tiHV
Gen. Agnew, who took Germantown, during the American
Revolution, was treacherously shot by an unknown hand whilo
engaged in a consultation with his officers on the approach of the
American forces. The brigade, which he commanded being for-
ced to retreat, he was buried on the spot. His grave is still
shewn with gratitude and affection by a superanuated old woman
who remembers his kindness to the inhabitants of Germautown
among the most endeared incideats of her early years.
Page 80— line 1.
LIAES ON THE MEDALLIAlf HEAD OF ARIAPITE.
Oh ! why should woman ever love«
Throwing her chance away.
Her little chance of shine
Upon a rainbow ray ?
Look back on each old history,
Each fresh remember'd tale,
Theyll tell how often love has made
The cheek of wonao pal*. ^.. ,
I
142
Her unrequited love a flower^
Dying; for air and light '
Her jiove betray'd, another flower
^Vither'd before a blight !
Look down within the silent grate,
How much of breath and bloom
Have wasted passion's sacrifice
Offered to the silent tomb !
Look4>n her hour of solitude,
How many bitter cares
Belie the smile with which the lip
Would sun the wound it bears,
Mark this sweet face ! Ah never blush
Has past o'er one more fair,
And never o'er a brighter brow ,
Has wanderM raven hair.
And mark how carelessly those wreaths
Of curl are flung behind,
And mark how pensively the brow
Leans ou the hand reclin'd.
*Tis she of Crete— another proof
Of woman's weary lot,
Their April doom of sun and shower
To Love,— then be forgot. '^
143
Heart-sickness, feelinga tortured,
A sky of storm above,
A path of thorns—these are love's gifts,
Ah ! why must woman love !
i;
Parge 103—line 4— »ller talents, &c.
Alluding tQ the death of an American Lady, universally ad»
' mird and esteemed for her many acquirements and correct clas-
sical taste. She wav isupposed to have been ship- wrecked, as the
vessel in which she had embarked at Chftrlestoo to come to N.
York, was never heard of.
Page 104— line 10.^^**That shone on her mountain, &e.
This lady was celebrate^d for her chemical and mineral re^
leatches and studies in natural history.
Page 121— line 1 .—"Tyrants of Liberty &c.»
' The disgraceful outrages here nlluded to, committed in the
year 1807, under the pretext of suppressing treason,— ou pri-
vate property and a helpless family in the absence of it^ protec-
tor, by a band of undisciplined and unprincipled militia, at the
instigation of those who then held the reins of government, are
too well known to those who have taken any concern in the his-
tory oi that period, to need any comment.
Page 129— line 6.— "Broad-horns."
A term given b/ the Virginians to the inhabitants of the New-
England states from their using oxen. The Virginians use horset?^
Page 129— line 6.— "Buckskin,"
A name applied to the back-woodsmen or hunters on the A-
^erican frontiers from their using the deer-skin as an article of
clothing. ^ ^. , . . ,
144
Vage 129— line 8.— **HalAhoa8, half-alig^ator,*'
The Kentuokians are so called from the prinnipal staple of tha
lOUDtry being; bones and from their possessing in the early settle-
ment of the state the almost exclusive trade of the Mississippi,
where alligators abound.
Page 130-^ine 10.>-»*7b/M her below the line,**
The line here alluded to is Ellieots line,as it was called,that for-
oerly separated the Mississippi Territory from the Spanish do-
(unions— >*7b tote^" signifies to carry— as they say in the South-
;m States— ^a negro totes a pail of water on his head.
Page 133-4ine 4y— "Clever** is us^d for goodnatured.
Page 134— line 16.
•^And at pathejtic parts are made to sigh an* cry by reule.*
- A certain Miss— of boarding-school memory much countep-
iced at one time at L ■■ in the United States, taught the
)nng ladies in her charge, while reading, to hold their pocket-
mdkerchiefs in readiness to be applied to the fountains oi tears
\ such parts as her own delicate sensibility should dictate to b«
tost pathetic.
A NEGRO'S BENEVOLENCE,
'iK. '
\
i
\
"WBWPWWiw^i
""".i *.>,•■'"
r.-KWissvrat:
: n>~^ Z^ii ■ ■ i*j
»:
»i
/ .
"rt^MMtaftr
•=^k: •
'i
A NEGRO'S BENEVOLENCE.
\ L
Man's ever right in his own eyed : — ^whate*er
Ton shew him excellent in ether men, * : ^
Humane, benevolent, upright, sincere, —
If they be counted pure — without a stain
Of earthly dregs, and Passion's self restrain
From blinding impulse, — ^in his breast he'll find *
A sample of their virtues : — nay, 'tis plain,
Theirs are but counterfeit — of spurious kind,
[While his are gold — ^puregold, sprung from a spotless
mind. • . » »>
".^M\>:^-
/ .
ti^KZTTtfirzi:.
148
- -. * ; '' ' ■-
**The world by lore of gain and praise is ruPd,''
- «( 'Tis to the motive we should look alone —
<'The greatest sages havb at times — ^been fool'd
••By vicious men, to sin and passion prone ; —
**The dress they wore, so much like virtues' 4)ywD,
^*|I'en Scrutiny bimseljr it might deceive,
'*^TiU touched by time the cloak fell instaat down,
>*And core of rottenness was seen to leave :
>Men should examine well before they credence g|ve."
III.
As he, who living at the farthest bound
Of a proad street long and magnificent,
^ In humble cottage, ne-it, and deck'd around
With small conveniences that yield content
' To hi9 confined desires, should represent
The domes and palaces that distant rise,
(In the perspective all their grandeur spent,)
As too fantastic, and of low emprise,
Not for convenience made but for rude gazer's eyes.
■r<»rfA.«l«rvfl «»•»>!■ *■*
18 rul'd,—
lone—
I fooVd
•one ; —
artues'ijysvD,
stant down,
ave :
dence g|re."
149
IV.
■■it
"■4'- «.
und
ontent •
sent
t
spent,)
ser's ey«».
Thus mortals reason : — Each, in his own breast,
And the felicities he finds there lost,
Will measure in penpecti^e all the rest :—
The veriest wight by wUom your path is crossM
Would shew (if you but knew what's in him most,)
That even the lowest of the human race
By nakeid Want, and vagrant Misery tdss'd,
Thinks if for man's desert heaven dealt each place
limself it would upraise and others all debase.
i V.
Search distant regions — -from the Hindoo priest.
To him — ^the naked wanderer that hunts
Thro' northern snows, and picks' the uncertain feast^
Now from the beaver'a tail — now hap'ly stunts
His appetite lO husky skins and runts
Of d^varfish roots torn up with eager greed,
That hides his ignorance — the other blunts.
With the fame salvo all the ills of need, —
^ach damns all oth^ ways and hu^ his father's crA«df.
N2 ~ . :- :
iit
11
\
!
- . .
•
- • ' P*
*■
-^
■•
4
♦ •
-*-*>•-
'~^"~— - — .
. .^
...-.-•..^.■^F*-.*.^,.'**. ,
^«
- . ■ • -. .-
. *»
^^^
^^^
^^
1
•
150
VI.
Empires, and systems, nations, sects and casts,
With every differing age in this agree, —
To love themselves : — Each one his form contrasts,
In what His beautiful, from blemish free,
»
With what awry in others he may see.
And thence concludes from certain premises
That his the fairest form of all should be :— -
In him alone the sunlight perfect is,
The others only beam reflected radiences.
VII.
.. And so, where Grey-beard Education long
With birchen law has plied the ductile mind,
(Even by its self-abasement rendered strong)
And all its subtle energies confined
In intellectual mazes, undefined
To wits untutored in h^r school's stiff Pride,
With matchless arrogance, says lieaven designed
Her head alone for Reason's ruling tide, —
To those without her pale e?eD commoD sense denied
H
A
The
*(
Jl4»*tJj*V.
^*: y
151
»
:r-
leasts,
'»
rm contrasts,
free,
e,
nises
d be : —
8.
ong
tile mindy
strong)
Pride,
iven designed
[Je, —
A sense denied
VIII.
Thus, vrhen the naked savage they harangue
With their inventions, and the powers of Art,
He who knows nothing but th^ bow to twang.
With arrow whizzing to the panther*s heart.
Nor ather powers but those his nerves impart ;
Firm-braced by toil and hardy enterprize.
Tells them he knows the nimble dear to start.
And other arts arid knowledge can despise :
They call him *^Savage — scarce above the brute that
' dies." -
.;;',;■ ; .' IX. .' ,
They bid him fell the trees *mong which are cast
' His father's bones, and reap the fruits of toil,-—
To build a shelter that may fend the blast,
And guard the sweat-eam*d tribute of the soil :*-
— **Give me my native hills, and of the spoil
*<0f beasts that range free as myself possessed, >
'*I scorn the sordid heaps for which you broil ;
**And, free from care, with natufe's bounty blessed,
*« Fling me at night upon my bealtbj snows to rest
oiu»uau!ni*^i-^ -u^..
'M>'
i' '■ '.' 'i ■
"*,'
k
153
X.
Borne in a bark diat seemed a moving isle,
(By skill traditional not instinct wrought)
Tb^ frizzled African unknowing guile,
The sons of art with cruel jpurpose sought ;
They found htm simple, free, in fraud untaught,-*
The Ttcthn of bis own benerolence,
Pecoyed by friendships garb in snares they caught,
And, bleedliiig froift bis home, distraught of sense,
Tq toi^neatiblthelasb they bore him o'er the immense.
XI.
And why ? It chanced his skin's fair crystalline
Was thickened by the sun's prevailing ray,
And that his heart untutored was a shrine
' For strong affection more than reason's sway ;—
Ilis life in joys primeval past away,
Tree from ambition and from lust of gain : —
There music breathed her rude impassioned lay,
Her rousing notes o'er nerves alone obtain,
With unsympbonious loudness tearing out her strain.
Th
Na
<n
t)
-,^"Sy'"**''^^^J3^'
-.. . ,.^ . I. . . .1 1 . .»»■•« •<* .< ».m^-t'*^''<g*^-
M
They fomid )iis mip4 uidettered.-^What avatl
To htm tbe masked misteFiefl of things ?
Nature on him pour*d fourth in full entail
All the delights that science with her wings
Expansive soaring from her mazes brin^
Of deep research and demonstration .-^Blest
With the sun^s light— -the shadow of the vale,
He spent the flying hours as seemM him best,
By care of wealth unvex*d, by rapine undistressM.
^ XIII.
His brain unracked by study-^this pretence
Doth Education take to call him "void
*'0f man^s distinguishing pre-eminence,-—
^'His soul with something baser is alloyed ;
- . "Or if 'twas bright, — its brightness is destroy 'd
' *'By ignorance and degradation vile,
^< 'T is doubtful that his frame is not employed
"In mockVy of our own by Satan's wile,
"Slave ! — he shall slake our vengeance doomed io
stripes and toil."
■m
(
A ^f^--».^B
XIV.
Ashakned to own him brother when his hue
Would wound their pride, his guiltless heart th^
brand ; ' • ,
With foul aspersions,— ^^*he is base,— untrue,—
**A faithless coward in his native land,
**And here his service fears alone command •;
'*Low wishes rule hiih — passions uns\ibdued
^'Beyond the power of reason to withstanc^,
'*His breast is void of sentiment and rude,—
'*The blooded lash ^lone can tame his savage mood.*^
XV.
But what can eolour ? Is the soul allied
To yellow, green, — to orange, flesh, or pink ?
Colour is fancy — with the self-same pride
On his black plume the raven loves to think,
As on his white the swan — (along the brink
Of rushy stream, sailing with high-arched neck.)
Nor do we call that brute a higher link
Whose hide is white, unblemished by a speck,
Than that whose colour*s red, roan, brownish, dua or
klack.
1V»- A.*.*.^**- •*
<* ^••-•••«'««>l».W,l«^««
k«»»Ca.tli**'''-^--^>^"
1 1
eart th^y
/ ■
d
\ mood.**
pink ?
link,
nk
ck.)
eck,
1, duQ or
XVI,
*
ynless perchance the highly-lettered muMl
Bj deep-extracted simile shall say,
t^Blackstiirsthe baser colour — for we find
*rThe diamond which gathers every ray
>*And seems to emulate the sparkling day
f*Is the same substance as the 61thy coal
"Prized only for the sparks i| flings away,
"For use designed— thus may the Negro's soiil
f'Tho* like pur own, be but a portion of the wh4)le.*^
XVII.
Y«3^ is the Negro*s heart ; however bowe4
By crushing slavery, and grovelling fear^
^Vitb human nature's sympathies endowed,
As briight, as pure, magnanimous, sincere,
As those which in oyr own loved skin appear^
jUst to my tale, from truth is drawn its source,
(Be that its praise : — Fancy can never rear
The structure fraught with pative truth's full force,^
ft shewA the Negro'» heart benevolfnt, tho' coarse;. .
\
31
\ "■"
tn'
n^*.*;-^^-"*-.
»i
m
1,
is* -
I
A iaeW^mtfheiolA arband the beartb
On whMtb tli[e np'^Uazing flame g^ws white and blue,
Some iiimerV'iilgfat, when all Fe|4ete with mirth,
On foreign ills may Rpend a thought or two,
(In Dther circumstance men seldom do,) •
Or if perohaDce too yulgar jou opine, '
The 01^ laughter-loving fireside ;—-^
May ten the same at taUe where you dine^
When other subfects fail, over a glass of wine^
XIX.*
Prowned by the sun, and battered by the Mast
Of keen adversity,— •his' best days spent,
Homeless, and friendless, on the wide world cast^
Far from the rugged hills where erst he spent
His youthftil years in pleasant merriment,
A harcly son of Scotia — one of those
Who see|^ in other climes emolument,
Jiy fortune driven alhoug his country 't^ foes.
Had come on Mississippi's baoka his life to cloei^
mmm
■k
( '!
u'M.
'J.",.
XX.
Full hard for him to hrook the fitter tavnt
Of heated democratic iDSolence,
And longed he much their boastings vain to flaunt,
With England's flag, and put their high pretence
For martial skill to stricter evidence.
He loved his country t-^cotchmen always do^
Where'er they wander bear the same high sense
Of Patriotism : — Tho* bleak their country, — few,
Like Scotchmen to their country's weal prove true,
XXI.
For he had fought in foreign climes, — in Spain, '
And by the far-ofi" plague-engendering Nile,
'Neath Abercrombie's standard, and again
With Wellington pursued the man of guile
Who late in Europe wrought full many a wile,-«>
Had bortie the brunt of many a bitter fight,
Ahd trod with measured step full many a mile,
For courage proved, — for skill and martial might,
I i)oubt not tiieir boastings pierced his British mettle
quite.
O
. •*,<:
I--
A
V
158
XXII.
A-
' He dad their scofVings :— and the wilds among
Sought out a resting place, where he at will
Might mitBe, unTezed with factions rancorous tongot,-
Which even Arom looks ?i|e treason can distil ir*
'Where he might wander by the pleasant rill,
Indulging Memory *s delusive dream,
Or at the closing day, slow time to kill,
Chat with the swains as meetly doth beseem
Those who their rough-cast thoughts not- unamusipg
deem.
XXIII.
Notd
Up
TcleF
To
Thro'
Foi
Thev
S(
^han taste the sweets for which hiP fellQW-creatiirp
bleed.
Hithei
To I
One grief was lel^ : — He saw from day to day,
The human cattle driven to the toil.
Gored with the lash by men more brutes than they
•r-He saw the flesh back from the lash-wounds coilj
And *neath the cruel sun the gashes broil,—
He cursed the unfeeling wretches for the deed,
Cursed too the fruits thus plundered from the sdil
Rather that man the bread of life should need,
Asa
Aga
And, a
Pid
Tochi
Hf conq!
tr
among . .
RiwUl
OrOfU tOBglM^
can distil fe—
Bant ril1»
seem
lot unamusipg
i to clay,
ites thtan they,
b-wounda cxAy
broil,—
tl^e deed,
1 from the
uld need,
lQW-creatur(|i
3UCIV. ^
• » . ■ •■
Not distant fur — a summer-erening's walk.
Uprose Palmyra, from that ancient seat
Tcleped, Whose ruins once the common talk^
(By Volney rescued from oblivion
To found the ruin of his creed upon,)
Thro* witless herds had spread the levelling flame.
For Reason Reason^s bulwarks to pull down :^7
They both are like, in colour^ as m tiamtt
Brown— one with age, and one with wooden huts the
same.
XXV.
Hither Mac Donald ott would stray — (I*m bouQd
To tell the truth — even to the very name.
And therefore tho* the musejreject the sound.
As all too modem and of low acclaim.
Against her ear for once V\\ risk my fame,
And, as his fathers call'd him^ so most she,)
Picking amusement from whatever came,
To charm the eye as wending carelessly
If conquered furrowed vale, brown hill and road-iidlq
trecw ' '
r
1 1
I
Ml
n ■'':
I
160
XXVL
"'jgfe-..
Mild 18 the clime, and fair the prospect spreads,
'' ' With fields in fields most beautifully lost;
Stretcbipg ia broad expanse their wavy beds,
By negros* huts and by-roads frequent crossed ^
Afer the Mississippi pours his host
,^^ Of'mightyrwaters rolling to the main,
^f: With tufts of trees and grassy isles embosse^^
Along its banks extends the golden plain,
Where grow the silky cotton and the sugary cane.
XXVII,
Oil 'neath the shade the tall magnolia cast*
Pleased with the view, he whiled the hours away,
What timeihe sun her middle arch had passM,
*
And nature blithe, to want his zenith lay,
Awakening from the sultry dumb decay.
With cooler breath *gan robe her limbs in dew . —
The lawn around with opening ^JAtfiei's.viras.g^y,
Their drooping wings the warbling choir renew,
Uflfrequent first, tiien fast, along the glade they ficw.
Beyc
Im
With
His
Th
Fortl
- Th.
There
And thei
In nati
The
Thc»as
Bys
The
Tom
Sheer
Their i
\*he hare
xxvin.
■ i
Beyond bim stretched the interminable waste.
Impervious to the sun e'er since the nood,
With the luxuriant cane 80 interlaced,
His fiercest noon-tide ray it had withstood : —
Thick-tangling here and there the underwood
For the dire monster built the effe,ptive screen,
~ There crouched the panther in his ireful mood,
There lounged the bear of senatorial meio,
.\nd there the fat oppossum chose his lair to yean.
XXIX.
In native pride the fir-tree, rear'd his cone.
The elm and maple heaved their heads to heaven ,.
Thevasb, that ne'er with hollow-echoing groan
By sacrilegious woodman had been riven.
The oak, that long with all the winds had striven,
Tom up at length lay stretched upon the ground,
Sheer through the tall trees had his huge hulk driven,
Their hanging splinters owned the dreadful wound, —
|The bare and partridge in its levelled top abound.
02
^
t>'i'«
I:
?
'■V^.
..^:
162
bj, '■■
■* Ji'S"
, -.:%..
XXX.
Here he who erst his native hills among,
At morning starting from his heathery bed,
From brae to brae with lightsome heart had sprti&g^
And over fell and moor and mountain sped,
To rouse the dun-deer from his covert shed,
Still loved to range in memory of the past,
While yet nor strength nor youth were wholly fle<?
The wilds where all magnificent and vast
Proclaimed that nature here profused her grandest caet,
XXXI.
Oft would he wander when the rosy sua
Spread out his first soil fleecy folds of lightj
Over a glowing prospect, and begun
That course which soon with hour-increasing migli
Shall drink up all the dewy moisture quite :•««
Fair is the sun on Mississippi's wave,
Her mists he seems to drink with pure delight^
Fair is the land those dark-brown waters lave,
To Scotland's musing exile iweet the tho'ts they j^re
At
163'
XXXII.
.•M.
bed,
bad aprv^gv
sped,
rt Hbed,
3lSt,
e wbolly fle^
ist
grandest cast.
D
>f ligbtj
reas'iDg mighti
i quite :-^
uredeligbt;
irs lave,
o*tfl tbey gave
The bright-haired sun was up — the smile of June,
0*er all the scene a verdant flush had throwD|
From every bush pourd forth the joyous tune.
The elastic boughs with dew hung heavy d owd^
Forth fared he gay -hearted and alone : —
Never was morning half so glorious seen.
Never had scene so bright — so luf^trous shone^.
So lovely was the summer^s leafy sheen.
Seemed it as if in glorious Fairy-land he'd bee^
- XXXIII.
With frequent paups, the still continuous plain
He trod, inhaling of the balir^y air
That, charged with sweetness tiom the fields of caqi^
Fluttered along as if afraid to mar
The spell of beauty that was every where
Infused with such a charm of new delight,
^ Ne eye of man saw ever ought so fair,—
Such sweetness, and such melting colours brighi^
At length the peerless sun attained more BoweiKil
beight.*'**
Mi
164
XXXIV.
Tlie dewy balm y vanished, — sweltering
Poured down the searching floods of liquid heat,
The little birds let fall the wearied wing,
— Huahed was the warbling oftheir voices sweet,—
The lowing herds overcome refuse to eat :
-^Amid the forest^s thick-inwoven shade
Sought he the cool sequestered retreat,
Seizing what path the browzing herd had made
Where through the thick-set canes the sunbeams faintly
played.
XXXV.
Musing he wandered on, — in full review
Came up the.motley movements of his hfe,
^ ,Back to the hour when first his young heavt knew,
With all the dreams of inexperience rife
The pleasing anxiousness of love's fond strife :— •
-<-^Twa8 thus in sylvan bnwer Mariah stood
And heard him plight bis faith to make her wife :
•Again^ a tree he leaned in pensive mood,
While dear-cemembeced thoughts cane o*er him Uke a
flood.
'
"•li
•v
'^ ti
heat,
ireet,-
ide
} faintly
koew.
xife :—
tr wife :
mUlce«
165
XXXVl
^was thus she clasped him in her arms tmd said,
*'Ah ! wherefore wander ? 8t«y*-thpu bast at home
*'A11 the delights that peace and virtue shed
•'Upon the heart of innocence, — thou wilt roam
"A round of pleasures cold and wearisome,-—
"Honour and glory say thou wilt obtain,
**Will these reward thee for a foreign tomb ,? _
* 'Thou art full as dear to me my humbte swain-*-
*'0h then ! forget thy purpose and with me remain !*^
XXXVJt<
One blissful tear escaped. — Why had he nol
Obeyed his loved Mlkriah*s dear request ?
Then had he tasted in^his narrow lot.
The sweetest caresof man— the fondest—happiest—
Of all of life that life is worth, possessed :>—
Ah ! he would give a world for the dear press
With which she strained him to her tortured breast
Her artless mind dissolved in deep distress ; —
Xuughl he hsMl known sweet as Mariah's 1 ist caresji.
t-.i
,'
•*:.
^
mTN'
ft
t
H
m
xxxviii.
Stow past he oo, while nothing came to break
The current of his mental revelling,
Save that, at times the bough would start and shakes
And vengeful stroke upon the intruder fling ;
Or the Scared bird liil up the drooping wing
For partial flight, — then eel tie down again :*—
A gloominess to thought most nourishing
And the cool freshness of the shade restrain
His mind from all desire to seek the sultry plain.
XXXIX.
So wrapt in meditation was he, — ^lost
In the oblivions reading of the past,
Ne roused him 'till the sun had crossed \
The arch of heaven, and, sailing westward f^t '
A level ray upon the forest cast, —
The cane-leaves spread around the obstructive
hedge.
He saw one ray and knew it was the last,
. Twinkling upon a high leaTs golden edge,
Of other glorious career that gave the pledgjsu
. . ■ • * ■'Mm";
./I
187
' ^ ■ ' 3LL. * • ■ ,
Surprised he stood bethipkicg of his case,— '
*<He could not from his path haye wandered fe^r»^
— Then seizing straight bis homeward steps to trace
A transverse coune that seemed directed where
That morn he had estrayed him void of care,
Nor doubting once he led his steps arig^it,
Briskly he bounded onward till a star,
Shot through the leaves, proclaimed the young twilight,
i^In double darkness down came brooding silent night.
XLI.
Startled^— confounded, still he wandered on,
And saw in prospect still the opening plain.
And now the dim twilight more clearly shone,
And now the shout of herd-compelling swain
Rung in his ears and urged him on to strai»
His utmost nerve :-^the sweat from every pore
Washed — while all issue still he sought in vain :-*
He wandered till his limbs would yield no more,
Then sunk exhausted down and all his hopes gave o^^*
, III
«
Ml
•ii
XLH.
I
I ■ , •
%Qng time he lay and in his mind resolved
The imprudent wish that led his steps astray,
—Saw ay his happiness in woe dissolved,'-
A plaintive voice that treacherous winds convey,
—•He starts with joy and bends his steps that way,
With cry reftponsive all the echoes rent, —
<~-It was the panther*a moan,— in wild dismay
One scream of terror through the woods he sent,
Bristled with fear, — then sunk in languishment.
. XLIII.
'-'Fair as the visions of the **world unknown,**.
And sweet as music in the heavenly spheres,
With the sun's sleepy ray the forest shone, -
In every bush the wakened choir appears,-—
— Ffom dread and dreams dele^ious uprears
His anguished head. — ''Stay dear Mariah — stay *
'' Didst theu not rescue me — I feel thy tear|
"Fresh on my cheek — ah no I it is the spray
**That dropples down, I am left bewildered in my way.*'
IKI
1
stray.
Is conyey,
ithutway,
iismay
s sent,
enU
iWD, .
[leres,
e, -
lars,—
iars
•I
ah — stay »
teari
■"?/■ •:
ray
«(
16^
XLIV.
M« thought among **Vich-Alpine*s" hills I rOTe4«
**To spring the tender pheasant-hen for thee, —
Climbing the steep my treacherous foothold moved,
«*DowD^-*down 1 sink in endless jeopardy,
'*Below me still a monster dire I see,
'^Wiitb jaws wide-opened raging to devour ;— »
**Then shrined in beauty thou didst come to free^
''And snatch me from Destruction's scapeless power,
And that thou hadst me safe I telt thy teary shower.**
XLV.
Again the sun^m his array is dressed,
Bathes him in dew and cools him in the streams v
Yet long he lingers on Aurora's breast,
And calls the cloudH to bids his amorous beamb ;
Love-chained behind their virgin veils, he seemf
Soft-slumbering scarce to feel his radiiince :^-*
— Such mom is beautiful like to the dreams
That laughing play on youthful Innocence,
priakling from odorous flower-cups^healinyredoleoec^.
P
'^r
I'
^
*/>'
170 W
XLVI.
•—Fair though the morn, to him it springs in Taiii>
The sun he sees not nor the lighted scene ;
His rolling eye the sylvan shades restrain,'
He scarce may see the aky the leaves between ;>«-
His onward ken the thickening arbours screen,
The drizzling dews down-splash in drenching riUs,—
Wet his attire as he in flood had been,
Cold~darop dejection forward prospects chills.
And fear of springing monster, him with horror fills.
XLVI I.
,^in he pierced the path'-bewildered wood,
^„ And sought (in vain) some champagne-issuing vent;
The mournful silence of the solitude,
Fell with unwelcome boding as he went, |
Upon his spirit with fear and fasting spent, —
The thirsty Noon was panting for his breath,—
The boughs no more with dewy drops besprent,
flushed was all nature like the smile of death, ..
pr like tb« pauf e which bodes the tempest's gatherji
trrath^
Again
Fr(
And I
Sec
To
hiPa
An
After
To wat<
His €
Or
Spen
Of
A
—Si
Su
€h^i
Sweete
:«.■
171
g8 m vun^
cene ;
in,
I between ;'^
irs screen,
iching riUs,-
en,
tt9 chills*
horror fills.
wood,
e-issuing vent;
vent,
spent,— •
b^eath,—
3p8 besprent,
)f death, ..
pest's gatberina
XLVllI.
Again the little birds their evening hymn
From all the quivering boughs in concert pour,
And nature in serenr^ .md cheerful trim,
Seemed as all things she would again restore
To that calm innocence which erst they bore
h) Paradise : — ^Such evening he had seen
Among his native hills e/l time before,
After a sportive day thrown on the green,
To watch the sun <lepart — the stars come twinkling in.
XLiX,
His eye, — his soul could never look unmoved
On the fair face of nature : — Even r^w,
Spent as^he was with all that he had proved
Of dark incertitude and stress of woe,
y
A smile played faintly on his palid brow, ,
— Stich pleasant fragrance in the stirless air, . ,
Such strain of music thrilling to and fro.
Charmed for n moment all the weight of care,—
Sweeter that momept's charm thus rescued trom dcsp»ir
-*j»«'r ,
na
))e g9zed io eitd delight :— Ao old rough ehA'
PoodVouf with 3'cari, frowa'd grimly o^ertht wood,
lie knew the tree, — fresh sorrows overwhelm
llis failing hciirt, — There yesterday he stood
And of his life's uoblest vicisitude
Counted whut bade at numerous pauses weep f^-^
Again for his Mariah poured the flood,
—For her, and all his other griefs, till slecp^ .
f-jficrs bitterness in rest, came gently on to steep.
LI. -
A troublous scene between each sigh 'm deep spasm
Led him a wild interiniouble maze,*-^
Now swells a topless steep,T-now yawns a chasm)
— Enveloped in Cimmerian night he strays,
While ^y^v^ step the sliding ground betrays :—
— Sudden broke out a pure and holy light,—
Mariah circled in a radiant blaze,
Offered her aid with angel look,— the night
Engulphed her in his jaw8,—he screamed with mad-
dening fright.
173
LII.
^ elm* \,
)'erth« ffoofi;
rwhelm
he stood
weep f*— •
Blccp^ .
ft t.
to steep.
leep spasm
I a chasm,
strays »
betrays : —
;ht,—
ft
ight
(I with mad-
He woke — The air was roaring with his voice,
From thousand trees struck back the dreadful cry,
Night with hnr sister Silengc — at the noise -^,
Martled, and b<tde her echoes all reply : —
The little birds in stupid wonder fly,
Scared at the unwonted sound from bush to bush,
Their flight they could not by the moon descry, —
The hare and squirrel through the thick leaves rusli.
Contusion ceased at last and all the grove was husk,
LIIL
^Twas at the hour when tnid night holds her court
Of most serene and solemn stillness, — not :
A single brpeze durst carry the report
That Nature's pulse was beating ; — so full-wrought
The pause, — the swell of waters fiintly caught
Seemed but a whisper from the eternal tomb, V
To which all living things must sure be brought :
(Thence to be quickened into second bloom)
—The moon half-shewed her dusky face but to increase
the gloom. P2
V,
!
-
-
m
«
*
■. '■
V 174
1
, /■
, , *
LIV.
At length dull Night resumed her ebon cai*,
And slowly — suUenly forsook her throne, .
A frowning duskiness she cast afar
As up the east the peerless sunbeam shone,
The partridge whurred his muster-roll alone ;
The barking foxes all the grove molest
In raillery of watch-dog's deep-mouthed tone,
The dozy awl flew hooting off to rest, —
And all was life and noise in open day confessed.
With failing strength, again, and fainting heart.
The now despondent task he must renew,
And try (in vain) if fortune would impart
Some happier path the dreary labyrinth through,
From roots and herbs what sustenance he drew
(Pernicious oft) uncertitin force supplied,
His only drink the little cups of dew y
That in the hollow-leaved magnolia's hide,—
From day today, hid strength, his hopes, his life, subside
.,1*.
■'^■-
1»* .T
ne,
ilone ;
1 tone,
}sed.
eart,
,h through,
he drew
life, subside
LVI.
Twelve days he wandered,~on the thirteenth ^spentt
His limbs no more the wonted aid supply in-
still with the last faint ray of hope he bent ^
His every nerve if yet he might descry
Some door of refuge ; — one short, feeble cry, —
One groan that pined distressfully away, ^ ^ *
And down he flung him in despair to di€ : —
The turkey-buzzards gatlilLr in array, ' -
As soon as life departs to pounce upon their prey.
LVII.
It chanced, — denounced for some obnoxious strife, ,
(Curse on the laws that leave man free to kill
His brother man, — that render human life
The uncertain tenure of a tyrant's will !)
Fled from the wretch who sought his blood to 8piU»
There came that way a hunted Negro slaves-
He doubted not his lord would soon fulfil
His bloody purpose, — and his life to save
He fled ; — *t were vaia he knew for lenience to crave*
w ..<
!
^11
« 15t>
i i ^ - '
' '. -4
XVIII.
Fiotti swamp to swamp in jeopardy he went,
A slave — an exiled wretch — a vile outcast :—
One day he came, where deadly pale, and spent,
A white man lay, in death relaxing fast ; —
Patient he seemed, — all hope of succour past,
Waiting from remnant life to be unbound : .
— The shrivelled cheek — the hollow eye agliast,
The clenchhig teeth-— the quivering lips around,—
.MI in the Negroes heart a vein of pity found.
LIX.
What think^st thou ? — In his mind did there arise
A storm of thoughts, — a scruple — balancing
Between his heart, and the contingencies
Of punishment his tenderness might bring ?•—
Perhaps he did exult to see the sting
Of death on one of his destroyers brought ;
Or yet^ — perchance it was but pondering
On rich reward that moved bis heart— Be/tei>e it not }
'^*:
».' , >
1. •
^ ■
'"
•%v.
Upo
**:
ist : — ,
spent,
past,
e agiiast,
■ound,"
e ari8«
cing
177
LX.
lie saw nfelloW'Creature in dislress,— ' "
' Enough he saw, nor could his heart misgive t
The warmth of its benevolence — the press
Gf sympathies that urged him to relieve : — ,
(Blest are those sympathies ! Blest, — I believe
Above all that the moral page pretends :)
A human being at life's last stage to leave
-He could not brook :~Even though his lite depends
Upon the step, he bore him to his home— bis fricnfl.^.
mi
ng
?— .
S
eit not}
i V r 5'
:V^
^Mirk
^HJS-,
r
^
1
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WiE DIED AT THE FALL OF THE LEAF.
• *
At the foot of a hill, on the Green-Mountain^s side,
Lived Elmira, her mother's sole solace and pride, -^ ."
Their wants and their cares a few acres sujrtUed,
They were happy and lived all alone ;
Like u little bird's uest in the midst of a bough
Their hut of round logs as the tall trees allow
That wate round the hill and look down from its brow.
In modest concealment was shewn.
While the flbwers were all dripping her garden she drtn#J«
And so artless the change by her culture inrpressed
That nature wcll-plent>cd thr impinvement confessed.
And copied its cluirms from Lite maid. >
The hue of her check by the apple was worn, a
Her locks were the silkb of the tasseling com.
Her breath on the gale w>'h her rose-tiees' was bomc;.'
lliat i^e w by the h<Hise in the shftdo.-
y
I'H
m
As she went to fetch water at noon frimi the spring,
The Zephyr would quicken his fluttering^ wing,
Andf wafting cool odours around her would fling
The freshness that breathed in the wild ;
As she wandered and listened the sound of the bell
When the shadows of night on the deep forest fell,
The grove ponr'd itrsong aH its fondness to teH^
And the sun-set more blushingly smiled.
i
As nature Moray*, through her limpid mind pass
... The fair copies of things ; or, if bodings harrass
' tJninnocent— «oon as the air from the glass
Wipes the mist*— breaks the burden of thoi]|^t;
Yet sometimes bewildered her steps she will lose,
And as all the soene in its richness she views,
On something unknown she will suddenly mus^,
And sigh tho* she knows not for what.
'•«»
Not far from the road on the hill-fide arose
A waste which the loose rock disorderly strew%—
The blackberry there in wild nakedness growi
And alone to the soene gives relief ;—
The sun the last remnant of day was delivering,
The jay's dismal scream laro* the dead air was qoiverii^
The maples were crimsoned the l>eech-trees were diivfnq||i*'
It was just at the fall of the lea£
••My
••We
'•WehJ
.^9
,4-
i'
■ ■'■»»
»;i
^ M^tVlC '
181 •*
A Utile bark-baiket was hung round h«r ariu,
^o th« windi-flowed her looks in array of alarm,
<(0*rom a rodk te the fruit as bent forward her form,
The statue of beauty she stood {
—A rustling is heard in the bramble-dell near,
Her crimson Aules fast at the impulse of fear,
Then rallying baok thick the blushes appear,
As a stranger steps forth from the wood.
The free-moulded form with the shoulder of might«
The' bold mountain-step energetic and ligh^
•^e mien independent asserting its righti
The American axman declare ;
A"pieldR|f blaok-berries as nearer he came*
The maideh hM hushed all her fearSf but a flaBM»
Starte-«tlrembles— and bustles all over her fram^
As the thunder-light plays in the air*
wiflg:'
While the laigisst imd blackest the bush^ supplied
He picked, and to giye ^em came up to her side,
*^! have o<Hne to hire out for the season,^ he crie<^
**Do yon know any one who would hire?'*
**My Moth«)r, flir, lives at the foot of the uiU—
**We are left aU idem thr^' Iho winter so cbill,
>«We have no one to go with our corn to the miiy
/^^t to fetch us home wood for the fire.''
%
im
T ha log-heap ii piled of the maple and beedhi <^
9ee the bantiii|f chipi far in the driven mowf reaeht
The back-log andfone-etiok tre aevered off eadi,
While the diitant woode eoho^the ^dia )
The mow-bank maf grow and the ft«at obain the a^ght.
And tiie forest oft eraok with the-oonf uevor*! nuigiiti
With clay and witk smm «f ery ohink it made t%htr
And three hap|^ hearts are within*
The snow ilbks away at tbebnathiagof 3priMf|
The pioneer crows are now seen «n the wing*
His axe it is time for the woodman to swing.
And Elnathan goes forth to his tSwpj^aag ;
As he traokft out the snow-path-and weloones thebri
Where bristleaad threaten the age-seonraliMl,
F ttture corn-fields already in prospect he sees*
With pumpkins thiok iMv* aisd- there droppii^
ltd
She
. »■
To a
She I
I
But tl
Thee
Alas!
' 81
Herg;a
Like
If she
The line is marked out^md< Ute «im iyddr es s a di
Twenty giants at once t^ttiegveund^iball be proaiadt
'Tis the scene whidi the axmaa of all lovfis4he beit»
The ftti7-4he roar of the «*slasking ;*V .
It is noon, and the signal is heaird iar«nd aaart
—A shrill melting vmoe it were teusio to AMuyi-
Bat the strolse rests awhilefrom i\» murderou^aurMK,
Andher vtfioa »itbw Iflbt iB4lM'0raibiii|g.
\s **0h» b
•*In my
"On tht
3j»eina
Nor (heP
•"^he heal
No*
A
186
tt QruhM-*>it crashes— the roar will not oeftse,
^»»Now it thunders no more and its tNshoes are lev»
She peases— fiHie listens— H shriek of distress,
^ — »«Oh Mother !— I hear him— he'k dying !**
^<— Thfl soft snow receives herv-«las ! that its bed
To a life of despair should reeal from the dead,
She revives as the plough-mangled flower lifts its head,
Stem-broken— its brittle leaves lying*
» ' ■ •
Bnt the Spring has returo*J in her mantle of green,
The earth puts forth blossoms to welcome the queen,
Alas I that her diarms should be wasted unseen,
Since her date like Elmira*s is brief;
Her garden last year like Elmira was gay.
Like her garden Elmira^s now withering away.
If she weeps with her mother— *tis only to to say,
Ml ihall die at the fall of the Leaf.'*
ib«it«
**0h ! bring my bark basket, dear mother"— she cried,
"In my weUUing-gown dress, me ull lit for a bride,
"On the black-berry heath he will come. to my side^—
**He is there and already a-picking ;**
9|ie marked not the yellow clouds shading the gun,
Nor the leaves from the trees falling one after one,
:^he hears not the boding blast thro' the trees run.
Nor the blue-jay her funeral shrieking.
id4
She Mtnmt— but already the death-dew he* itriek^
Her eyes fade in languor— her cheeks Aide and uekeiv-*
No cordial the dim rayi of beauty can quickea*
She yieldi to the poison of grief ;
"Oh Mother I I cannot live longer^— >she cried<
^Thii world has no Ix^auty— 'Why should I abide ?
u>E]nathan is gone— then she faltered and died,**—
~3he 4ied at the full of th* leaf.
•--»
t. ,.:
\y\
<■ ■
Bu
ll
^<*
*"•."»•
Til
Rot
THE REMEMBRANCE OF YOUTH IS A 81GH
tf\
'\-
.-- -V
Youth ! — of every season sweetest,
Youth ! — I love thee and regret thee !
. — I would not for the world forget thee.
Wheresoever thou Memory meetest.
By the tree — or by the brook
Revisited when long forsook,
There thou art with rosy face.
Eye of glee, and heart uncumbered.
Sporting in thy day of grace,
Running round thy busy race, * '
With a hope that has not slumbered.
Scattering flowery joys unnumbered ? ,
What IS knowledge — thought — experience !-
These in age will waste away.
As an old tree*s boughs decay ;
But, while nature has adherence
' In the heart— 4he will — ^the mind,
As at the old tree^s root we find
Tiny infant shoots up-springing,
Round the withered parent clinging,
*" • ^\
> 'M
m
IMAGE EVALUATION
TEST TARGET (MT-S)
1.0 ^KSISi
■^ 122 12.2
m m
lU
lit
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2.0
I.I
6"
Hiotograpdiic
Sciences
CorpOTalion
23 WEST MAIN STRUT
WIBSTIR.N.Y. 145M
(716)t73-4S03
196
Youth shall still bloom up Bfresh
Through the memory of thd past,--*
»^A thing to bless^^a thiiig to last,
With aU the life of breathing flesh.
Free from strfiggle-~pure from passion,
Is the thought of dnys gone bjF >
When we strive to form and fiishion
What we were, — reKght tbe eye
Recai the fire — the youthful hue, '
And all the grace of limbs renew.
If in age-~ftbo\it tbi;^' d^^elfiiig
Thou gpbest lone— pompaniotilesSf
While every ancient thing Js telling
*«AM is fled that oncie coy|d bless :*'-i"
— Sit thee down-r-indulgc thy sorfew \
iTet S^emory fill the yacancy !
She from traveHeid climes caoborlo
New delights, — and thou mayesl see
;•('!;"■
-■f-c'.
. fV": ■
':im
' : T '• ■
■ ; , *' ■
-K--
With alt thine in^t earqestneiis,^
Lucid gleams JT brightn<^^fii^: ^^^^
Busy schemes that crowd aQ^JpJ^s,:
, Hopes new plaits of life begejpng,
Ending all in nothingneM »
Like the swimming sjitapes thai mock
'^^^l
..-A ■■„.
A*» tffcs*^
'•!^^R'
-/'■■
fi^Jj't^^
vf ^■fcit
i!^:>
liT
187
The strainiDg eye-ball in the d^rk*
While we chase the daocing floek^ ' .
# They melt away and leave no m^rk.
Is there in thy heart ho ifeSuhg ? ' *
All its kindly warmth decayed,--^'
/^It holds — tho' in its de]pth concealiogi
!' One halcyon spot that cannot fade^ ,
Likethe Widow's cruise of oil ii;. ' »v
U the sigh for youthful days ;
Thb' men have made thy heart a spoil
That AtgVis left— ^the last which stayv
Tbo' thy hesff^e«s t^e tockr ily--^^,^-'
Letyouthfttl memory on it riishy
-M^Htjll]^! ownlha magic shock, ' .
And streams of ibrmer joys shall gusb '<
Thoii ti>f/^ sigh,-— butoh l; think not
The>«^P||H^ of thAt sigh if^bittet ! tH -^lit
Or when youth tfan be fo^oit^.
:^ jigpo Irtem its fli<?ht for i^je is^^
v.That9igh shall from h^r grave unbi^
•■■' '■ '■■■■',' ' *^<*' ■ ■'■ ". /
V Faney ot the»viiii^i^iving|f<i<iij4^ i > i
^ She again thM0iieats shall '^findii^^^^^^^^^
Where thj young heart she used to bring ;
Aoio*ertbyaged,Tiiionl»lind, '
, 1
m^'
'.'^
The tints .of rosy y^Hth shall fling ;
And to thy half-b6lie?iog mind,
The very^Dotes of youth «4)aU sing;
As the full-toned ^utomn-wind.,
Cbaunts the^quiem of tltj^^priog*
if in thy heart 4iie ray is left,
As morning ivesh— as dew-fall calm,—
One drop the world iiaS ttot bereft
Of all its gast— of ail Hs balm ; ,
If then causttfaink and feei as when
Thy cup of joy was yti nnprimed.
And all thy t)ioughts^of things add pea -
To Fancy's fool akvie were timed} *
— ^WhenthoQ couldst life drii^ Apeim the eyev
And bliish forconscioQS bhiih relvniy -
l^ordeem the^woould'c<ver(die»
The fire of fa^ng4;ease 1o bwM'f v i '
If still thy breast that ;|brm enfold, ^
Which LoVt^yooQg hind basactilpliiMd ihert ^
Tho* its likenesa lidw is cM,
■ Buried in the g*aw i i**'»da s | ti y;v t4^ M-^^^u,
AndOhl if LoTetbydSinverorsfflig;
Hasfa«ited!t»>Viigh^a»d D<iltio1)|e|% -
Foih rifled joys has,
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Lert thee cold and comfortless ;^—
•*^Then with me tlioa hast confessed
(>f the years to man alotted,
Youth is far the happiest,
And with fewest sorows spotted. -
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;i8 there a whUper thrilling yet,
At times when nature canH dissemble r
And now and then will blushes flit,
i^nd the he»rt-pi)Ises start'And tremble f "
—That whisper is the voice of /ot»<, *
The sweetest voice thoo e*er hast known,
Till life is rtm thy heart shall mov#
Exultant to that- stirring tone.
And 1^ there sometimes in the air,
A balmy breath— a rosy dew,
A sunlight more serenely fair,
A sky of deeper hcavenlier hue ?
•~Thu8 looked the sunny fields-rrrthe sky,
r J The perfume of the air thtf same,
' What time abui^ant youth thine eye^
FtBed with liave's delighted flame.
And after miJfili all unexpected,
While there steal^fl^^lear— dear sigh.
That shews though ftlambering and neglected;
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Lo?<s can neW Wholly die ? • ■ . ai:^ Vr.. ;
Of buried hofies fbtit sights th* kneOi^^ w;
Of youtfafu) pleaianred faded ittet, - ^ • "'
Tb^ only record left to tell,
Tl^^fli^it of tbe hvp^fpasti -
And dost tbou still deligbt to wander^
O'er tie scenes of Infancy,
And n pon t^ic^e thoughts to ponder,
Tb{![t.opoe coukl Bll thy heart with glee,?
And «vhen thy heart these things reiiiemben>
Is there ye| a gleam that flashes*
Like the spafkof mouldering emb^rt!,
Dying in their shroud of ashe^ ?^^^
Dost thou thinly that heart can jever
Beat again as once it did ?
Or when age and sorrow seter,
Joy cai^ waiiton as 'tis lid?
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Then if iiijthjr latter day,
When age thy reitoant jAys ii rifling;
. Thou shouldit that £ alttof b^d In l^y^
Youth witfi all Om ardcHit triflh%|*' ':>
Will not a tear unbidden stlr^, >:^n
And roll retehtftil of tby Mifllni t
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0|l the dozy fiie-heap fwKfc, ■,
Are" the itingingi <^ tf>» waimil,
, That'marks thfi.fimwMffmiiif j^aftf«
Ah t think with me and say of youth
y That 'tis the only jjioie of b^iss f
*Tis then we fall with feeling's truth,
With passion ^n but its excess.
Wlien the tender mind untou^t,
Sipped the flow of IhipstQebce,
From crim^en^eas^Mf-from aiidcMKij^^hon^bit/i^
That was Joy *s Qmiiif«tence.
ii not the shoot J^hMh^^iises^^iie, !
IVom out tftiM<i'RBs:flQ:d«licBtea;^ f i: ^
As beautiful in miiyetace.
As is thf tree of brdKeM ais(toFl /
Does not babl4big<iiillftliatigiufaes,
Cleilr as erystal doiw>thtt>rDdC|
Please as well jiijtfaatiarhidb'nwhes
** ; On to^ ineet the Opean'js shopk ?
Isnotihe first blui^ of mprnin^; ,
Beaudful^s bl^^e of day t
Do we loT^Jd Sprijjg's ^tujnjni,
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8aniiier*t ardent sway f
8tadiftd«m '
iing brigbt magnificence i*^
is true, has but dne gem^ 'ik-: ' ^■
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i: '||^ ^;^|t^ the pearl of Innocence I
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s^ . ^ Thin* ib<$ fickle mind and tender,
'"••**f^. ITo.fixed character express, ,. ^ A^||:;,.^f^'
Wi«||^yethe^onn(;5#9
For itti^ry artleiineai.
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VNever can the witclung play 'v^
' Whlf^ ydo4h*0 racaot moments stolo»
Fancy-^wheedl^ ml th^ day^ ^f,w t? v^;t>"; , ;
E'er he jbl^!^ from Ac wiili
TKosa you^^&l kiasinga of the ieyiSi
That th#^mo8t soul detect^
As the S«n hi tropic sky.
His rayi retnming meets direol^ i; 4 > ;
Never ^n the heart can die,
Nor their 9iehp»ry be checke^ ^^
Until Reown's srif shsdl fefl,
And thrihiiv^ forget her order^
Youth's prime pf sM^eetness shall pfeva^ '
v-A sprina; «f eyerhistinji tefdnjMl
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