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POEMS OF THE HEART. 
 
 BY 
 
 GEOKGE W. S. NICHOLSON, 
 
 AUTHOR OF "A BUDGET OF YOUTHFUL FANCY.' 
 
 PHILADELPHIA : 
 G. S. APPLETON, S. E. COR. SEVENTH AND CHESTNUT STS. 
 
 1850. 
 

 Entered according to act of Congress, in the year 1850, by 
 
 G. S. APPLETON, 
 
 in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States, in and for the 
 Eastern District of Pennsylvania. 
 
fV) n 
 
 ^> 4 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Preface,-.- 5 
 
 Dedication, 11 
 
 Childhood,. 15 
 
 Second Spring,. 25 
 
 The Brigand's Daughter, ,36 
 
 The Dream, 72 
 
 The Star of Intellect, 77 
 
 City and Country, 80 
 
 Friendship, 84 
 
 The Broken Heart, 87 
 
 The Dark Night,. 92 
 
 A Sheet of Paper, 96 
 
 Beauty, • • • 99 
 
 Heilrich Hall,. • • • • 105 
 
 Genius,. 109 
 
 Clara way, • 112 
 
PREFACE 
 
 This is the last production of my boyhood. 
 Since my initiation into the pleasing paradise of 
 the Muses, Poetry, with me, has been an intoxicat- 
 ing pleasure, a mad delight, to the detriment of 
 my pursuing the sterner studies of life, so that 
 I might be enabled to more successfully battle 
 with the cold, the heartless, the striving world. 
 
 In this age of literature, when it is the task 
 of a lengthened lifetime to read the almost 
 innumerable works of erudition and science in 
 our vernacular tongue alone ; and when all the 
 avenues of the press are thronged, flooded by 
 
6 PREFAO E . 
 
 aspiring applicants, it is next to impossible for an 
 author of the present day to even hope to sus- 
 tain existence by the bare, meagre products of 
 his pen. 
 
 When I shall have prepared myself for the 
 emergencies of life by gaining some solid, grave 
 profession, then, provided the patrons of poetry 
 encourage the flight of my young Muse, I may 
 cull the bright gems of thought, which, like golden 
 grains of rust, shall have accumulated on the 
 volume of my pen ; and with the sharpened point 
 of experience, weave them in the loom of fancy, 
 crossed with the threads of imagination, inter- 
 spersed with the flowers of originality, into a 
 decorated robe of poetry, meet for the eye of an 
 amateur. 
 
 What I have written was not from any sor- 
 did desire of gain, nor from any ambitious mo- 
 tives ; but merely to relieve a fanciful, laboring 
 
PREFAC h). 
 
 imagination, of its effervescent ebulliency. Often 
 have I sat, with my gaze fixed into the depths of 
 my soul, heeding nothing, until my thoughts? 
 teeming fresh from my heart, were lying dormant 
 on the sheet before me. The ideas, somehow, 
 would come, and there would be no rest for my 
 spirit ; they would be continually recurring to my 
 inward gaze, till I had banished them from my 
 exuberant brain to the precinct of my scrap-book ; 
 there to remain, mingling with their associate 
 fellows, till ferreted out by some kind, curious 
 friend, who, taking a copy, would exhibit them to 
 others ; and — now the tug — they desire other copies, 
 until it is almost by sheer compulsion that I am 
 constrained to publish these friends and com- 
 panions of my heart. 
 
 This is an excuse (not apologetic) for my intro- 
 ducing this work to the reader, to whom I may be, 
 personally, a stranger. 
 
DEDICATION 
 
11 
 
 TO MY FATHER 
 
 To thee, my father, while I sing 
 A joyous, happy strain, 
 
 With filial love and pride I bring 
 These children of my brain. 
 
 When morning, risen but anew, 
 Had donn'd her golden crest, 
 
 I've pluck'd these jewels from the dew, 
 And hugg'd them to my breast. 
 
12 
 
 TO MY FATHER 
 
 Then up the mountain with my staff, 
 
 I oft to crags did cling, 
 And gather'd with a childish laugh 
 
 The firstlings of the Spring. 
 
 And when the glorious orb of day 
 Cast his first streak of light, 
 
 I've watch'd the songsters soar away, 
 And join'd them in their flight. 
 
 Then, when their mates called from the sky 
 
 These warblers of the plain, 
 I've sought to catch each lonely sigh, 
 
 And versify the strain. 
 
 And from the flowers in the vale, 
 In varied colors wrought, 
 
 While sweetest essence I'd inhale, 
 I've cull'd full many a thought. 
 
TO MY FATHER. 13 
 
 And with some old, forgotten song, 
 When other eyes have slept, 
 
 I've lengthen'd out the night full long, 
 And for the hero wept. 
 
 These gems, and flowers, and buds of thought, 
 
 Fresh from the muse's bower, 
 To thee, my father, have I brought, 
 
 To while some passing hour. 
 
 'Twas Nature, with her charming grace. 
 
 Loved sister of my soul ! 
 Who first essay'd my pen to trace 
 
 The poet's pleasing scroll. 
 
 Oh, thou, the parent of my birth ! 
 
 Whose precepts I have kept, 
 Altho' intrinsic be their worth, 
 
 These buds I pray accept. 
 
 2* 
 
15 
 
 CHILDHOOD. 
 
 My birth place the city, proud Queen of the West, 
 Half rear'd in the hills of Virginia blest : 
 Doomed o'er the world in fancy to roam, 
 My heart in one place, a chaos my home. 
 
 New Song. 
 
 Beloved Age ! by mem'ry loved through, life, 
 Undimm'd by tears of anguish, free from strife ; 
 Impetuous as the brook but new released 
 From ice-bound beds, by drifting snows increased ; 
 
16 CHILDHOOD. 
 
 A morning sunbeam in a forest wood, 
 
 Where hyacinths and violets are strew'd ! 
 
 Thou art the fount of Fancy : golden scenes 
 
 With silver fringed ; and azure tinted greens ; 
 
 The future castellated with delight. 
 
 And fame, and glory burst upon thy sight. 
 
 I gaze into the mirror of my mind : 
 
 In Childhood's hallow'd corner there I find 
 
 The silver morn of mem'ry : I behold 
 
 Its bright and brilliant picture, fringed with gold. 
 
 'Tis sweet to draw the curtain of the past : 
 
 Behold the scenes of Childhood, time amass'd. 
 
 In glorious visions bright, by Nature taught, 
 
 Fond retrospection to my soul has brought — 
 
 While mem'ry, ever dear, doth now engage 
 
 To ope the portals wide of Childhood's page — 
 
 The loved, remember'd scenes of boyhood's hours, 
 
 The ideal scenes, the Elysian fields of flowers, 
 
 Bedabbled, orient in the sun, with dew — 
 
 Past visions bubbling on my fancy's view. 
 
 Blest childhood ! happy in thy innocence, 
 In close embrace all future views condense, 
 
CHILDHOOD. 17 
 
 And shed a halo of delight around 
 The bosom of thy breast, with leaping bound. 
 Hope, with her glorious visions, peopling space, 
 Illumines all the radiance of thy face : 
 No cares find harbor in thy wavy breast ; 
 No dreams of future wo disturb thy rest ; 
 But meek-eyed Peace bides ever in thy heart, 
 And sweet Contentment drowns affliction's smart. 
 Bright dreams of glory weave around thy fate, 
 Light up thy youthful fires with joy elate, 
 And swelling pleasures sparkle in thine eyes, 
 And glow in gleams of present paradise. 
 Thy smiles are soft as May-day morning beams, 
 And fairy fays waft Heaven unto thy dreams ; 
 Thy tears are pearls ; the fount is sooner dried 
 Than April show'rs on the gentle, hilly side. 
 
 Affection, Friendship unalloy'd, is born 
 Of Childhood, cradled in the lap of morn : 
 Life may be sweet, but when gray, winter'd Age 
 Reverts with trembling fingers Friendship's page, 
 He finds there none so lasting, fond and true, 
 As friends in Childhood form'd, when life was new; 
 
18 CHILDHOOD. 
 
 Though some prove false, he plaints with no regret, 
 But joys with mem'ry, and he loves them yet. 
 Experience often turns to Manhood's birth, 
 And fondly gazes — ne'er of lesser worth ; 
 He sees gay youths in circle cluster'd round, 
 Who make the woods with life-like mirth resound, 
 Like nymphs of showers tripping through the vale, 
 Leaving bright beauty in their sweeping trail ; 
 His dear companions, some tempestuous hurl'd, 
 And others gone, their youthful pinions furl'd ; 
 He smiles on dreams that wore the guise of Truth — 
 A hallow'd scene ! gray Age smiling upon Youth. 
 
 The artist loves his sculptur'd scenes to view, 
 And smiles upon the first his pencil drew ; 
 Yet more he cannot love than I to gaze 
 Upon the absent scenes of Boyhood's days : 
 Redundant with romantic forms, they fly 
 Athwart my vision, sparkle in mine eye. 
 Oh ! that I were a boy again, to pass 
 Through life a boy, surfaced as polish'd glass. 
 
CHILDHOOD. 10 
 
 In Childhood how I lov'd the mellow light 
 Of evening's heavenly meteors, twinkling bright ; 
 I marvell'd ; wond'ring on the azure deep, 
 Till, lost in fancy, I would sink to sleep ; 
 And I would strain my infant spirit's sense 
 With marbled orbits, glorified immense : 
 How strange it was, the moon, the stars should wear 
 Such brilliant beauty, swinging in the air. 
 On Luna's soothing face I'd gaze and weep,, 
 And bid her angels guard me while I'd sleep : 
 My soul in dreams would fly to her on high, 
 And roam in fields of ether through the sky ; 
 And little cherubs were my playmates there, 
 We'd gambol, frisk and tumble in the air ; 
 And yet I'd wake to find 'twas all a dream, 
 And on my casement still the silvery beam, 
 Filling the primrose with its sister light, 
 Till drops of dew jump'd in to see the sight. 
 And then methought the tiny stars above 
 Were eyes of little seraphs full of love ; 
 And I would image Psyches to my mind, 
 Their angel pinions o'er my couch entwined. 
 
20 CHILDHOOD. 
 
 And thus would pass my nights in dreams of love : 
 For then I knew no fear of mighty Jove. 
 
 Swell on my fancy memory's cherish'd dreams : 
 
 Once more I wander by the woodland streams ; 
 
 Again I sport in fancy on the lawn, 
 
 As I was wont long absent days agone ; 
 
 Enraptur'd with delight I cull the flowers, 
 
 And revel, childlike, 'midst the rosy bowers ; 
 
 Again I weave a chaplet for the moon ; 
 
 With perfumed roses all my paths adorn ; 
 
 With tripping feet I startle from its nest 
 
 The burrow'd ground rat, with its velvet crest ; 
 
 And from the thick-hedg'd woods I hear 
 
 The merry songsters singing loud and clear ; 
 
 I give my soul to joy a loosen'd rein, 
 
 And echo back the warblers of the plain ; 
 
 The lark begins, arrested in its flight, 
 
 Till all the woods re-echo with delight. 
 
 When merry Spring comes laughing through the 
 
 vale, 
 I grasp my books, and dash into the dale ; — 
 
CHILDHOOD. 21 
 
 The spring of life 's unfolded to my view — 
 And sportive from the rose I brush the dew, 
 Press lightly on the daisy, childhood's flower. 
 So meekly smiling, peeping from its bower. 
 
 I love to loiter in the vernal glade, 
 And sport with Music, Heaven inspired maid ; 
 And watch the mist uprising from the hills, 
 Thick cluster'd with perfume from rippling rills, 
 Till, ether lost, it stretches 'long the sky, 
 And leaves my soul to stern reality. 
 I linger : in the distance, looming out, 
 I hear my fellow schoolmate's playful shout : 
 The schoolhouse, with its weather-beaten front, 
 Loved, hallow'd place ! is erudition's fount. 
 The schoolboys romp upon the mossy sward, 
 And strive to gain the victor's proud reward ; 
 Some clamor loudly at the marbles' fray ; 
 Some stand demure ; light hearted, others play ; 
 Their echoing voices borne along the air, 
 To seek their home in some far distant star ; 
 
 3 
 
22 CHILDHOOD. 
 
 Some on the placid lake their vessel slip : — 
 How like is childhood to that trembling ship. 
 A little while 'tis fill'd with gallant life ; 
 Wind comes — Age comes : 'tis lost amid the strife ! 
 There stands the master pensive in the door, 
 Looking science at the children, mighty lore : 
 What thoughts are stirring in his bosom now ? 
 He smiles awhile : it vanishes : his brow 
 Looks gloomy : I can see the furrows here ; 
 And down his cheek there rolls the silent tear. 
 He ponders on the hopes of youth, the sweet, 
 Illusive dreams, the care-worn soul's retreat : — 
 Manhood comes dashing on — Ambition wields 
 The iron-knotted sceptre ; void of shields, 
 Against the tempest-riven shore he's hurl'd, 
 To battle with the breakers of the world ; 
 And plodding Reason, shrinks aback before 
 The frenzy of the blood-shot eye ; no more 
 His guardian angels hover round his path ; 
 Unmeet to strive 'gainst passion, worldly wrath, 
 Without a guide ; without a beacon flame, 
 Save, lone, the ever changing star of Fame, 
 
CHILDHOOD. 23 
 
 He dashes heedless through the roaring waves, 
 The fury of a low'ring sky he braves ; 
 Forlorn of friends ; bereft his Childhood's home, 
 He steers his shatter'd bark through blacken'd 
 
 foam, 
 To glimpse at glory : should he live forsooth, 
 He casts one longing gaze, and wists for youth. 
 
 The schoolboy should be happy — shout with glee ; 
 Could he one page of Childhood's future see, 
 And all of manhood's anguish, wo, behold, 
 He'd prize each moment now as grains of gold: 
 Yet sometimes trivial troubles will o'ershroud ; 
 Ne'er rose and set the sun without a cloud ; 
 The fairest days may end in storm and rain, 
 And meet it is that Childhood should have pain, 
 The transient stinging of a pricking pin — 
 Not such as wears down manhood pale and thin. 
 We are our own posterity: as bends 
 The child in youth, so graver manhood wends. 
 
24 CHILDHOOD. 
 
 Let Childhood heap up knowledge in amount, 
 Drink holy draughts from Wisdom's mighty fount, 
 And court dame Fortune while she smiles in peace, 
 That Age may turn to thee to seek surcease ; 
 If this thou dost, content will be thy noon, 
 And gray-hair'd Age and Childhood be but one. 
 
 
25 
 
 SECOND SPRING, 
 
 The Spring, the gentle, budding Spring, 
 With genial airs, and lowing herds ; 
 With silvery songs from dancing birds, 
 That make the new-fledged forests ring, 
 And Nature clothed in verdant sheen ; 
 The far-stretch' d fields with dappled green 
 The rippling brooks with swelling flow, 
 That bear away the Winter's snow, 
 And lash their banks, 
 With plashing pranks, 
 3* 
 
 
26 SECOND SPRING. 
 
 Like boys just bursting from their school, 
 Who bid farewell to tyrant rule ; — 
 
 And cool, refreshing rain 
 From dew-dipp'd clouds have come again. 
 I love thee, Spring, with all thy flowers, 
 Thy verdure and thy rosy bowers ; 
 Thou speak'st of days long absent gone, 
 That mem'ry joys to dwell upon, 
 "When through thy forests widely spread, 
 Thy shaded nooks, 
 And by thy brooks, 
 I roam'd with one — alas ! who's dead. 
 'Tis past ! the hope of youth has fled, 
 All smiles, all joys, all hopes are dead ; 
 Long years those treasures I'd amass'd, 
 When days were bright, 
 When hearts were light ; 
 When fortune, with a placid face 
 Lit up my youth with comely grace ; 
 But all have perish'd with the blast. 
 I stand within a sea of moan ; 
 
SECOND SPRING 27 
 
 The waves of trouble lash my brow — 
 Strike terror through my crested prow ; 
 But one dark swell more fiercely blown — 
 
 The wave of hopeless grief — 
 Has hurl'd me on a rock-bound reef, 
 A black, unfathomable place, 
 Where fiends are grinning in grimace, 
 Where wander on the barren wastes 
 The restless forms of myriad hosts, 
 Who laugh and dance, a ghostly train, 
 While mournful dirges swell the air, 
 And gnash their teeth with endless pain, 
 Then cast them groaning in the pit, 
 To seek surcease where mad Despair 
 And Grief and Death together sit. 
 I gaze ahead, and all is gloom ; 
 My soul is buried in the tomb, 
 A coffin'd gate through which the soul 
 Departs to endless life, 
 Away from worldly strife ; 
 Or 's doom'd in endless woe to roll. 
 
28 SECOND SPRING. 
 
 The rose, I oft had clasp'd in pride, 
 Has droop'd and faded by my side ; 
 The fairest of the Summer's flowers, 
 
 So slight and frail, 
 Borne down to earth with Autumn's showers 
 
 And blustering gale : 
 Came Spring — I lov'd her in her pride ; 
 Came Summer — and she was my bride ; 
 Came Autumn — and she droop'd and died : 
 Oh, Shade of Death, grant me release, 
 And let these racking torments cease, 
 
 And rest my soul in peace ! 
 Shine on, thou changeful, watchful moon ! 
 
 Cast mildly on her grave, 
 
 Where tender lillies wave, 
 Thy mellow tints of light ; for soon 
 My silken threads of life will sever — 
 My light be dimm'd and gone forever. 
 'Twas once mine eyes could weep, 
 
 And let the tear-drops sweep 
 
 In many a wrinkled streak 
 
 Unheeded o'er my cheek ; 
 
SECOND SPRING. 29 
 
 And large, clear pearl drops sparkled bright 
 Upon the lashes of my sight, 
 Like diamonds glistening in the night ; 
 And, constant dropping, they did trace, 
 Till furrow'd channels groov'd my face ; 
 
 But now — Oh ! say not now ; 
 Cast but one glance upon my brow, 
 Mark well, and read its wrinkled page, 
 That's withered with untimely age ; 
 And see my whiten'd locks of hair 
 Stream flaxen-like into the air ; 
 Behold the wreck that now foretells ; — 
 I strain the fountain to its cells, 
 And dig the essence of a sigh 
 To moist my parch'd and bloodshot eye ; 
 I press my bosom — press my heart, 
 Till drops of life-blood gurgling start. 
 Oh, yes ! I lov'd her madly well, 
 As this frail form alone can tell ; 
 Came Death, and stole my rose away, 
 And took my light of life away, 
 But left me gloom and dread dismay. 
 
30 SECOND SPRING. 
 
 And this is life ; delusive joys ! 
 
 Like clouds within a windy sky ; 
 And men are made to passion toys, 
 
 They hope, possess, despair, and die ; 
 Our youth is fickle, man is frail, 
 As flowers in the Autumn gale. — 
 Still Nature bears me back to youth, 
 The spring of life, its paths all smooth ; 
 I still lament, and ever strike 
 My mournful harpstrings tun'd alike, 
 So solemn is its tone, 
 I sigh, but sigh alone : 
 And there is misery in thought, 
 By retrospection madness wrought, 
 To have the drooping buds of hope, 
 When time had giv'n their leaves full scope, 
 Together folding to enroll, 
 And wrap their meshes round the soul : 
 What grief, what pain, oh ! what despair 
 Are cluster'd in my bosom's lair ; 
 
 The agony of mind 
 
 In hopeless grief confin'd. 
 
SECOND SPRING. 31 
 
 Yet sometimes in my ravings wild 
 
 A ray of hope will steal, 
 
 With many a quicken' d start, 
 Into my compass'd heart, 
 And shed its calm, so gently mild ; 
 
 And bid me burst the seal — 
 Unfold the crescent leaves of grief, 
 That weigh my soul 
 With dread control — 
 
 Let all my wo be hurl'd 
 
 Back to its mother world : 
 And give my bursting heart relief. 
 I mingle with the world — with life ; 
 I see a husband lose his wife, 
 
 Parts death the child and mother, 
 
 The sister and the brother ; 
 The lover digs his lost one's grave ; — 
 They loved not, or, like me, they'd rave ; 
 They dry their tears — they smile on fate ; 
 Perchance they seek another mate ; 
 But I with grief did waste my breath — 
 Am drooping, drooping down to death. 
 
32 SECOND SPRING. 
 
 Avaunt ! I'll be a second man, 
 And learn from men to calmly scan 
 The face of trouble in the brow ; 
 I'll smile at grief ; — forget my vow, 
 And, tho' my heart, my life it clasp, 
 The storm of anguish will I grasp ; 
 I'll blind it from mine eye ; — 
 I'll blind it, tho' I die ; 
 The crescent leaves of grief I'll thrust, 
 I'll crumble, crumble them to dust : 
 'Twere better thus to die — to root 
 My passion ere it bears its fruit. 
 'Tis strange that I of manhood brave, 
 Should be to weakness such a slave. 
 Yet, no ! my soul must still lament, 
 
 And I must let this sadness weave 
 Its shreds of weather-proof cement, 
 And madly let my spirit grieve, 
 Grieve, while my soul's with phrenzy tost. 
 For her, alas ! untimely lost, 
 I rave ! can I forget to live ? 
 Can I procure the fabled sieve 
 
SECOND SPRING. 33 
 
 Of dim forgetfulness. 
 And through the wires my mem'ry press — 
 Drop, shift and shake the leaden ore 
 Till recollection be no more. 
 And can I sway my midnight dreams, 
 Where one pale face forever teems, 
 And beckons me unto the grave ? 
 If so, then I will cease to rave. 
 Oh ! well do I remind each smile 
 Was wont my fortune to beguile ; 
 
 When first the heavenly light 
 
 Of love, broke on my sight — 
 Too happy days ! — 
 My rapturous gaze ! 
 As arm in arm, and hand in hand 
 We wander'd joyous on the strand ; 
 The pealing of the marriage bells, 
 Arousing music from her cells ; 
 And then the solemn, leaden toll, 
 Proclaiming dead another soul ; 
 My wanderings through the lonely glade 
 When Winter stripp'd the earth of shade, 
 
 4 
 
34 SECOND SPRING. 
 
 No one to cheer — no one to guide 
 My faltering footsteps to my bride : 
 No, not for me her love, her breath, 
 She lies a corpse — the bride of Death ; 
 I took no note of time ; it left 
 Me palsied, left me reason reft : 
 
 A chaos filled my brain : 
 
 Insensible to pain 
 I lay for days, for months of time ; 
 I soar'd away to worlds sublime ; 
 'Mid angels in the skies above 
 I saw my long-lost, earthly love ; 
 But oh ! how bright, 
 What dazzling light 
 Encompass'd her, as on she moved, 
 And smiled on me, the one she loved ; 
 I spread my out-stretch'd arms to clasp 
 Her form — embrace her in my grasp ; 
 But ere I had my wish, they hurl'd 
 Me downward to a groaning world : 
 I woke to find the vision gone, 
 Left cheerless, friendless — left alone. 
 
SECOND SPRING. 35 
 
 For me may come and go the Spring ; 
 The rippling brooks may laugh and leap, 
 And merry time their Sowings keep : 
 
 For me the dancing birds may sing, 
 May swell their throats 
 With silvery notes, 
 
 From bough to bough may chirp and laugh, 
 
 Intoxicating pleasure quaff ; 
 
 Their vernal robes the fields may stretch, 
 
 And I, from zephyrs, music catch ; 
 
 For me the flowers may waft perfume, 
 And essence sweet 
 My senses greet ; 
 The cooling dew from rosy bowers 
 May lave my heated brow with showers ; 
 
 I heed them not ; for, steep 'd in gloom 
 
 My mind, my soul no pleasures move ; 
 
 But, chain' d till death to exiled love, 
 
 I'll dig from out my heart one sigh ; 
 And, blasted like the stricken oak, 
 I'll sink beneath the harden'd stroke ; — 
 
 I'll waste my life — triumphant die — 
 
 A victim to Despondency. 
 
THE BRIGAND'S DAUGHTER 
 
 4* 
 
39 
 
 THE BRIGAND'S DAUGHTER 
 
 PART I. 
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 The night winds whistled murky past. 
 And blew a gale in every blast ; 
 And by the fading light of day 
 The shrieking condor call'd his prey ; 
 
40 THE BRIGAND'S DAUGHTER, 
 
 And from full many a craggy height 
 
 The jaguar's howl broke on the night, 
 
 When slowly up the mountain way 
 
 A band of Northmen, in array, 
 
 Along the precipice's bank 
 
 Pursued their march, rank after rank : 
 
 Some two score warriors, young and old, 
 
 Each mounted on a war-horse bold, 
 
 And gleaming with their steel and gold, 
 
 In silence onward toil'd their march, 
 
 Now 'neath some overhanging arch, 
 
 Now on the slippery, slimy edge 
 
 Of some dark cavern's dreary ledge, 
 
 Now wending through some barren dale, 
 
 Where loud the owlets hoot and wail ; 
 
 But riding foremost in the band, 
 
 Upon a charger nobly grand, 
 
 That paws the stones within his path, 
 
 And beats them down in furious wrath, 
 
 The chieftain, with his youthful front, 
 
 And brow scarce sear'd by battle's brunt, 
 
 Is bravely leading on his men 
 
 O'er hill and dale, and gloomy glen. 
 
THE BRIGAND'S DAUGHTER. 41 
 
 Still onward over rock and crag 
 With stealthy pace the troopers drag ; 
 Until at last the warlike train 
 Emerges in a w r oody plain ; 
 Scarce have they enter'd in the copse 
 Before the chieftain's charger stops, 
 And, stamping 'neath his feet the ground, 
 Glares wildly in the hedges round ; 
 And, with his nostrils in the air, 
 Betokens some foul, lurking lair. 
 "Back!" cried the chieftain to his men, 
 " In lines form quickly, ten by ten ; 
 We've broke upon some brigand's gorge : 
 Now gather round, and onward charge." 
 His words had broke the silent spell : 
 Now from each thicket in the dell 
 Arose a loud and lengthen'd yell ; 
 And as the troopers onward rush 
 They meet a spear in every bush : 
 Now hand to hand their arms engage, 
 And fiercely does the battle rage ; 
 And long and loud the sound of strife 
 Proclaims the work of death is rife. 
 
42 the brigand's daughter. 
 
 The chieftain on his noble steed 
 Now rushes on with maddened speed ; 
 And as he through the brigands press'd 
 Full many a spear is at his breast ; 
 His body slightly backward bends, 
 And with his trusty sword he sends 
 A thousand fragments in the air, 
 And leaves the front of weapons bare. 
 Now shouting loudly to his men, 
 Until the echoes ring again, 
 He dashes through the bold redoubt, 
 And scatters heads like balls about ; — 
 But see ! his charger droops his head, 
 And groaning, drops beneath him dead : 
 And now the grim guerilla chief 
 Is fronting him in bold relief, 
 With giant form and sword of ill, 
 And eye that tells his iron will, 
 With brow whose wrinkled, ruffled page 
 Foretells the lion in his cage. 
 Such was the man as there he stood, 
 Who fain would reek his blade in blood 
 
 
THE BRIGAND'S DAUGHTER. 43 
 
 Now wildly gleams his bloodshot eye ; — 
 He wields his iron sword on high — 
 Down comes the hissing, thirsty blade, 
 And flashes through the dreary glade ; 
 But, ha ! our chieftain meets him there, 
 With sword unsheath'd and weapon bare. 
 And now with hilt to hilt they close, 
 Together parry blows on blows ; 
 Now comes the tug of mortal strife, 
 Each striving fiercely life for life : 
 The brigand with his giant strength 
 Gains inch by inch his falchion's length ; 
 And pressing on the chieftain hard 
 His bosom leaves without a guard — 
 The chieftain's sword is at his breast ; 
 But on the mail beneath his vest 
 It shivers with the weighty blow, 
 And leaves him swordless 'fore his foe : 
 Now backward on his prostrate horse 
 He sinks beneath the brigand's force ; 
 And on the clotted, bloody ground 
 His pinion'd form lies firmly bound. 
 

 44 the brigand's daughter. 
 
 There lies the chieftain when his troop 
 Sweeps by him with victorious whoop ; 
 They leave their fallen chief behind, 
 Whose shouts are borne along the wind ; 
 They, safe themselves, reck not of one, 
 Who lies defenceless overthrown. 
 
 The brigand chief comes creeping near, 
 And sounds his whistle shrill and clear ; 
 Then quickly round about him stand 
 The blood-stained faces of his band, 
 Exulting with ferocious eyes 
 Upon their prostrate, captured prize ; 
 Then, with their chieftain's silent sign, 
 They rank their bodies in a line, 
 And, lifting up their captive's form, 
 Pursue their way without alarm. 
 The brigand mutters with a smile, 
 " This one will serve us for a while ; 
 And, by my leaping falchion's clank, 
 A captain is this captive's rank ; 
 The ransom shall be dearly paid 
 Who would to him bestow their aid." 
 
 
THE BRIGAND'S DAUGHTER. 45 
 
 Along the mountain's rugged side 
 They swiftly to their castle glide : 
 While far below a ridgy train 
 Of hills stretch out their lengthen' d chain ; 
 And here and there the valleys deep 
 Tell where the flowing rivers sweep ; 
 And now the falling waters roar, 
 As down the dizzy heights they pour, 
 And from their struggling, groaning tomb 
 Is cast on high a cloud of foam : 
 Still pass they on with measured tread 
 Until their castle rears its head, 
 And from its lofty height looks down 
 With blacken' d front and gloomy frown ; 
 And, as against the deep blue sky 
 It swells out boldly from on high, 
 Far down the rugged mountain's side 
 It casts its shadows far and wide. 
 The brigands reach the massive gate, 
 And loudly on its iron plate 
 They make their butted falchions ring, 
 Unitl its foldings open swing ; 
 
 5 
 
46 the brigand's daughter 
 
 And to the pinion'd captive's view 
 
 Unfolds within its gloomy hue. 
 
 Then straightway with a triple guard 
 
 They cast him in a dungeon barr'd ; 
 
 Its desolation all around, 
 
 Its bed of straw upon the ground, 
 
 Its eye-like windows far apart, 
 
 With thick-set bars weigh down his heart. 
 
 Oh, for one true and trusty sword 
 
 To hew his way from out the horde ! 
 
 The brigands now with wine and jests 
 Are stilling down their guilty breasts ; 
 But silently their surly chief 
 Sits, looking like a wither'd leaf; 
 His vacant stare, his brow betray 
 His secret thoughts are far away : 
 He touches wine nor touches cup, 
 Nor of the viands does he sup ; 
 But when each brigand from his chair 
 Rolls on the floor with drunken air 
 He casts on them a secret smile 
 Of mingled scorn and guilty guile. 
 
THE BRIGAND^ DAUGHTER 
 
 PART II. 
 
 Was ever yet a mortal eye, 
 
 So lost to passion's power, 
 Who has not wept at Beauty's sigh^ 
 
 Nor revel' d in her bower. 
 Whose soul has not within him stirr'd, 
 Whose very heart-strings have not fired 
 When witnessing the dropping tear 
 From some fair angel of this sphere ? 
 If such there be upon this earth 
 
 With all my soul I pity thee : 
 
 'Twere better thou did'st never see 
 The light of life break on thy birth, 
 Than live to be a wretch so hard, 
 A soul unhonor'd and abhor'd ; 
 Back to the earth, thou groveling worm ! 
 And cast not shame on mortal form. 
 
48 the brigand's daughter. 
 
 Mankind should bow to Beauty's power. 
 
 As doth the tall and proud sun-flower 
 
 Yield homage to the Eye of Heaven, 
 Where through the open, rounded space 
 
 Is dazzling glory brightly driven, 
 To cast on earth's dark sinful face 
 A promise of redeeming grace. 
 
 Oh ! Solitude, sweet is thy rest ; 
 
 Thou art a welcome, happy guest, 
 
 When from the turmoil of the crowd, 
 
 Within thy sanctuary bow'd, 
 
 To thought sublime my soul I yield, 
 
 And revel in a fairy field ; 
 
 But when with Beauty, all alone, 
 
 Thou shar'st the silence of thy throne. 
 
 And catchest every tone of mirth, 
 
 Thou art a paradise on earth. 
 
 'Twas at the midnight hour, 
 When lonely in her tower 
 
THE BRIGAND'S DAUGHTER. 49 
 
 Young Zella, bright as any marigold, 
 The daughter of the brigand bold, 
 Reclined upon her velvet couch, 
 Whose silken softness to the touch 
 Surpass'd in texture wondrous fine 
 The snowy down of swans divine. 
 The wealth of Indies strew' d around, 
 
 Seem'd sparkling in a maze of light ; 
 While not a breath of air, nor sound 
 
 Disturb 'd the holy calm of night : 
 And 'neath a fair Madonna chaste, 
 
 Upon an altar laid with gold — 
 
 A relic of exquisite mould — 
 A cross of ebony was placed ; 
 And vases, fill'd with buds in bloom, 
 Cast sweetly out their rich perfume : 
 And old-time portraits, 'most decay'd, 
 
 Seem'd from their lengthened sleep to rouse, 
 
 And twisted up their wrinkled brows 
 To cast one look where Zella laid, 
 And smile upon the beauteous maid ; 
 
 5* 
 
50 THE BRIGAND'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 But, as the night before the day 
 Sinks to its haven far away, 
 The grim old warriors' transient sight 
 Was blinded by the maiden's light ; 
 Yet 'round their lips a smile still play'd, 
 For Beauty cast one pleasing dart, 
 And touch'd the tendons of each heart. 
 
 'Twere some old master's pleasing part 
 
 To carve the choicest of his art, 
 
 A model work, a form divine, 
 
 An angel should be his design, 
 
 The heavenly radiance of whose face 
 
 Should teem with ev'ry lovely grace ; 
 
 Beneath the forehead he should trace 
 
 A brow whose curve should shame the shell ; 
 
 And in its concave there should dwell 
 
 Of pearl-like brilliancy an eye, 
 
 Like sunset in a blue-tinged sky ; 
 
 Her rosebud lips should rubies seem, 
 
 And put the blushing rose to shame ; 
 With melting softness they should teem, 
 
 And fire the soul with passion's flame : 
 
THE BRIGAND'S DAUGHTER. 51 
 
 And, when this angel-form was made, 
 
 The God of Life should lend his aid ; 
 
 And mortal breath he should bestow, 
 
 And cause her veins to ebb and flow ; 
 
 And bright tho' be this maiden's sheen 
 
 Yet Zella still would reign her queen, 
 
 With her majestic, regal mien. 
 
 Rich raven ringlets, curling 'round, 
 Hang waving on her neck with grace, 
 And deck the radiance of her face, 
 
 Where Beauty's mildness does abound : 
 
 Her starlike eyes shine sparkling bright, 
 
 And glow her path with brilliant light ; 
 
 Should all the jewels of the sea 
 
 Concenter their bright brilliancy 
 
 They could not shed more mild a ray, 
 
 Nor greater purity display ; 
 
 Like the bright seraphims above, 
 
 So Zella's form was love, all love ; 
 
 'Twere but to gaze upon her eyes 
 
 To madly love, to idolize. 
 
52 the brigand's daughter, 
 
 When young she lost her mother dear, 
 , And lost with her affection's tear : 
 And, sent within a distant land, 
 Was guided by a stranger's hand ; 
 But then her soul, all innocence, 
 Was train'd in purity intense ; 
 But, oh ! she shudder'd at her fate, 
 That she should be a brigand's mate : 
 'Twas helpless Beauty in distress, 
 Longing a mother's fond caress. 
 
 But from her sweet and mild repose 
 With vacant air she lightly rose. 
 The silence now her footsteps break, 
 And lightly o'er the carpets trip 
 As when the evening zephyrs skip 
 The smooth, unruffled mountain lake ; 
 An angel in her lovely guise, 
 Seem'd rising out of Paradise, — 
 And bending humbly low her knee 
 'Neath her Madonna's guardian care, 
 
THE BRIGAND'S DAUGHTER. 53 
 
 Chaste emblem of her purity — 
 
 She breath'd on high a fervent prayer. 
 
 Thus was she 'fore her altar bent, 
 On soothing prayer her soul intent, 
 When Bertha came, her chambermaid, 
 Whose brunette face her birth betray'd : 
 But Zella seated on the floor, 
 
 Unwittingly her lips did move, 
 "I fear," said she, "my peace is o'er, 
 
 No one is here for me to love." 
 
 " Oh ! say not so," her maid did cry, 
 " You still have Bertha by your side, 
 
 Dry up each tear within your eye, 
 
 And to your maid your woes confide." 
 
 "You know my father, Bertha dear, 
 And his companions ever near ; 
 And this he tells me is my fate, 
 That I'm to be a brigand's mate, 
 
54 the brigand's daughter. 
 
 A loathsome, murderous brigand's bride ; 
 
 Oh ! would that I had rather died 
 
 An infant at my mother's breast ; 
 
 Then would my spirit find its rest, 
 
 Than be a puppet to the will 
 
 Of one who knows but deeds of ill ; 
 
 Yet to the parent of my birth 
 
 I'll yield my life, my woman's worth. 
 
 You know it was but yesterday 
 
 For years I had beheld his face ; 
 And now my soul, fill'd with dismay, 
 
 Seeks to escape from this vile place." 
 
 " Hist ! not so loud, sweet Zella, dear, 
 For fear thy father should be near ; 
 But now he pass'd the castle's gate; 
 And by the torch's fitful light 
 Within the middle of the band 
 I saw a fetter'd captive stand ; 
 And, as he pass'd the dungeon's grate, 
 I saw his epaulettes shine bright ; 
 
THE BRIGAND'S DAUGHTER. 55 
 
 And they, all sparkling with their geld, 
 Were like the ones I once beheld, 
 When we had stopp'd at Monterey, 
 
 On that young captain, you remind, 
 Who, wounded in the battle's fray, 
 
 Was nurs'd by you, so gently kind." 
 
 " Ha ! say you so, then quick, a light ; 
 
 And bide without till I return." 
 Then pushing up a mirror bright 
 
 Disclosed a passage grim and stern ; 
 Hope banished from her breast her grief — 
 Instill'd its soothing, calm relief. 
 Now Zella glides along the walls, 
 Where long and loud the echo calls ; 
 Yet light her fairy footstep falls, 
 
 And yields a muffled sound ; 
 
 The chill, damp air around 
 Sends shudders through her tender frame, 
 And flick and flare the trembling flame : 
 Then winding down the dark descent, 
 
56 the brigand's daughter. 
 
 Through devious wendings cold and damp, 
 No light except her gleaming lamp, 
 Still down and downwards Zella went ■ 
 On steps of hard and aged cement : 
 The lamp-light gleaming o'er her head, 
 
 And casting far away 
 Its ghost-like gloatings scarlet red, 
 
 Which 'round the jutments play. 
 At length she paused before a door, 
 
 And still'd her beating, sounding breath, 
 Save which the silence was like death, — 
 And dropp'd her gaze unto the floor ; 
 Then seem'd to be engaged in thought — 
 In some bright dream of fancy wrought ; 
 But soon she raised her lustrous gaze ; 
 And with a spring the door slid back, 
 Unfolding front a dungeon black, 
 While through the darkness stream 'd the rays. 
 
 Then gath'ring up the flowing robe, 
 And while her pulses wildly throb, 
 
 
THE BRIGAND'S DAUGHTER. 57 
 
 She softly through the dungeon crept 
 To where the captive soundly slept ; 
 And fondly gaz'd upon his face, 
 
 On which had nature placed her seal 
 For nobleness and honor'd worth, 
 Tho' manhood there was in its birth : 
 The warlike garments, martial crest, 
 The blue surtout, the crimson vest, 
 The eagle button'dband, reveal 
 A chieftain of the northern race. 
 Stretch'd on the humid straw he lay, 
 And, tho' with danger all around, 
 He gave his soul to sleep profound, 
 And banish'd trouble for its sway : 
 And Zella, kneeling by his side, 
 Caught every murmur as he sigh'd : 
 And watch'd each dreaming, smiling glance, 
 That lit his features in his trance, 
 As some bright dream of mem'ry blest 
 Disturb 'd his slumbering, caregone rest, 
 And every wrinkle in his brow, 
 As in his changing dream 
 
 6 
 
58 the brigand's daughter. 
 
 He thought him at his troopers' prow, 
 'Mid war and battle's stream, 
 Where deadly weapons flash and gleam. 
 
 How Zella's bosom rose and fell, 
 
 And heaved with joy and rapture wild ; 
 In vain she still'd its rising swell, 
 
 Not to disturb his slumbers mild, 
 She wish'd, yet fear'd for him to wake, 
 For love, the little witching rake, 
 Had raised a tempest in her breast, 
 
 And caus'd her face to flush with bloom ; 
 And love and fear in a contest 
 
 Were striving each to overcome : 
 These words she whisper'd to her mind, 
 
 " What chance has brought Lenardo here, 
 He, whom I left far, far behind, 
 
 And left with him my love sincere, 
 Immur'd within this deadly hive, 
 Whence none have ever pass'd alive ; 
 But see ! his mind seems to revive : 
 
THE BRIGAND'S DAUGHTER. 59 
 
 His breathings, soft as snowy flakes, 
 
 In lighter murmurs quicker flow ; 
 
 His cheeks with blushes seem to glow ; 
 He sighs ; he turns ; he starts ; he wakes ! 
 
 Lenardo wildly gaz'd around 
 Upon the walls, then on the ground ; 
 An instant, as he turned his sight, 
 His eyes were blinded by the light, 
 But then he caught the witching rays 
 Of Zella's upturn'd rapturous gaze ; — 
 "My lov'd, lost Zella, thou too here," — 
 "But for thy weal, Lenardo dear." 
 He clasp'd her to his beating heart, 
 And told by silence what nor art 
 Nor gifted accents could impart ; 
 
 Her half expectant lips he kiss'd ; 
 And closer in his fond embrace 
 He press'd each charm, each glowing grace ; 
 And gaz'd upon her placid face, 
 
 Where love and innocence exist. 
 
60 THE BRIGAND'S DAUGHTER 
 
 As to his future fate all fear 
 
 Was in that blissful moment gone : 
 'Tho in a dungeon still sweet cheer, 
 The very life of love was drawn. 
 Triumphant love ! we all must feel 
 Thy sweeten'd pain, tho' ribb'd in steel ; 
 Time hath no power over love ; 
 In vain its fleet-like chariots move, 
 Forever beams the star of hope — 
 Successfully with time to cope. 
 " This is nor time nor fitting place," 
 She said, and slid from his embrace, 
 " For us to spend in this delight : 
 My father holds a feast to night, 
 Ere long the day will overtake, 
 His revelry he then will break ; 
 Then let us not these moments waste, 
 But from the castle thou must haste." 
 " My angel, were I not Lenardo brave, 
 I willingly would be thy slave — 
 My sweet preserver, be my guide." 
 
THE BRIGAND'S DAUGHTER. 61 
 
 She pass'd with him the secret slide, 
 And up the narrow passage hied : 
 Then from her chamber, swift and fleet 
 They took their way with stealthy feet ; 
 And by the brigand's feasting hall 
 They swiftly glided 'long the wall, 
 While loud within the roar of mirth 
 Gave freedom to their passage forth. 
 
 With wild excitement still they speed 
 
 The halls and galleries in haste ; 
 No sentinels their path impede, 
 
 For all have join'd the rev'lers' feast. 
 Through ruined arches, lofty halls, 
 They seek the shadow of the walls ; 
 Down windings steep and intricate 
 They reach secure the postern gate ; 
 Now Zella, handing him the key, 
 Bids her Lenardo haste, to flee ; 
 And when the sun shall light the sky, 
 To meet her there to save — to fly. 
 
 6* 
 
62 the brigand's daughter. 
 
 She droops her head upon his breast, 
 Which fain would ever there to dwell ; 
 
 And tho' the light peeps from the East, 
 She cannot speak the sad farewell. 
 
 Awhile Lenardo lingers there, 
 Loth to depart, yet still must go : 
 Again his lips have kiss'd her brow, 
 
 Of snow-like fairness, pure as air : 
 
 Once more he folds her slender waist ; 
 
 Once more she bids him haste, oh, haste ! 
 
 And with a sigh long, low, and deep, 
 
 He rushes headlong down the steep. 
 
 She totter'd forward — bade him stay, 
 
 But Echo answer'd far away ; 
 
 And then her tears with passion's force, 
 
 In streams along her cheeks did course ; 
 
 And, anguishing, she cried, "he's gone; 
 
 Again I'm left; and left alone." 
 
THE BRIGANDS DAUGHTER. 63 
 
 PART III. 
 
 Whene'er the heart — the gentle heart 
 Is bow'd beneath affliction's yoke ; 
 
 And pleaures from the bosom part, 
 Like summer's foliage from the oak ; 
 
 And when the dreary robe of grief 
 
 Comes like the Autumn's wither'd leaf, 
 'Tis then that men the passion seek 
 Of love, not obdurate, but meek ; 
 
 And know the peace of its relief. 
 
 There's nought in life to man more sweet, 
 More kindly or more dear, 
 
 Than in adversity to meet 
 The sympathetic tear. 
 
 The sturdy oak with cypress twined, 
 
 While Spring-time yields its myriad charms. 
 And flow'ry leaves bedeck its arms, 
 
64 the brigand's daughter. 
 
 Heeds not the soft caresses kind ; 
 But when the Summer's scorching heat, 
 The Winter's blast, with driving sleet, 
 Shall parch or chill the far stretch' d field, 
 Its feels with joy the cypress shield. 
 'Twas ever thus : and will be so, 
 
 So long as man shall tread the earth ; 
 So long as fortune's smiles shall flow, 
 
 And while his brow shall teem with mirth, 
 He casts aside meek woman's worth ; 
 But when grim time — when fickle fate 
 Shall blast his brow, 'tis then too late ; 
 The gentle flow'r, man should protect, 
 Has sunk beneath his cold neglect. 
 
 The feast was o'er ; the hall was clear'd ; 
 The wine and mirth had disappear'd : 
 The bowl, the cup, so late endear'd, 
 Were lying dormant on the floor, 
 Mementos of a wasted hour ; 
 The sun's first rays were streaming through 
 The casements with a lurid hue. 
 
THE BRIGAND'S DAUGHTER. 65 
 
 The brigand chief still keeps the board, 
 Nor utters sound, nor utters word ; 
 A sense of evil in his eye 
 Seems to foretell that harm is nigh, 
 One of those dreams which seems to pry 
 Into the dim futurity, 
 And when the soul is near its end 
 The bars of fate asunder rend ; — 
 That glance into the space ahead, 
 And see the empire of the dead ; 
 But wo to him of fancy's flight 
 Should ghostly visions meet his sight — 
 But suddenly he lifts his head, 
 And hearkens to the hurried tread, 
 And tramping to and fro of feet, 
 While murmur'd sounds his senses greet. 
 They come ; he grasps his iron sword, 
 And stands expectant by his board ; 
 They reach the door now open wide ; 
 " 'Tis not a foe," he said and sigh'd: 
 But foremost spake the one who led, 
 " Our captive has escaped," he said. 
 
66 the brigand's daughter. 
 
 " Then treason in the castle dwells ; 
 
 Let every brigand quit the cells, 
 
 And to the hall unarmed come, 
 
 To see the traitor meet his doom ; 
 
 Away ; and when the whistle calls, 
 
 Be sure his blood shall stain the walls.' ' 
 
 He ceas'd ; and through the open door 
 
 He sought his daughter's fair boudoir. 
 
 " Come, 'rouse thee, maiden, and with me, 
 
 To see a traitor's penalty : 
 
 What ails thee, girl, that thou should'st quake 
 
 As if it were thy doom I spake ; 
 
 Thy form is trembling as a leaf; 
 
 And now thine eyes seem dimm'd with grief. 
 
 It fits me now — 'tis thus my mood 
 
 That thou should'st use to scenes of blood. 
 
 Come, follow me unto the hall, 
 
 That justice may be done to all." 
 
 The hall was fill'd ; each brigand's gaze 
 Was fixed upon the chieftain's face ; 
 
THE BRIGAND'S DAUGHTER. 67 
 
 They knew that eye so stern, so chill, 
 
 Possess'd the pow'r to read the will : 
 
 But each with conscious innocence 
 
 Abode his look with confidence. 
 
 He scann'd each face, each eye again ; 
 
 But wateh'd their working lips in vain. 
 
 How was it — 'tw T as a mystery, 
 
 For he, himself, possess'd the key — 
 
 That from the dungeon, strong and barr'd, 
 
 The captive should escape the guard ? 
 
 He knew that in the tower's walls 
 
 A secret passage downward falls ; 
 
 But who could find the hidden slide, 
 
 Imbedded in the dungeon's side ? 
 
 At length a thought flash' d on his mind, 
 
 And as a sudden gust of wind 
 
 Changes the hush to roarings wild, 
 
 He turn'd to where his beauteous child, 
 
 With beating heart, with eyelids bow'd, 
 
 Stood trembling 'fore the lawless crowd. 
 
 A strange contrast ; the brigand chief, 
 
 And Beauty mourning, weigh'd with grief — 
 
68 the brigand's daughter. 
 
 The dusky faces of the band — 
 
 The father clothed with stern command, 
 
 His giant form, his flashing eye, 
 
 Like a meteor from a clouded sky, 
 
 His overarching brow impart 
 
 The hell of passions in his heart ; 
 
 And, as a vulture from its peak, 
 
 He frown'd upon his daughter meek. 
 
 The daughter with a trembling frame, 
 
 Bow'd down with grief, but not with shame ; 
 
 And quiv'ring as the lily frail 
 
 When shook by storm and blustering gale : 
 
 Her rounded cheeks to whiteness froze, 
 
 As snowflakes on a blushing rose ; 
 
 Her crimson lips made marble white, 
 
 Like toombstones in a moonlight night ; 
 
 Her slender hands so firmly press'd, 
 
 To still the anguish in her breast. 
 
 Thus stood she 'fore the heartless chief, 
 
 A monument of beauty's grief. 
 
 The brigand for an instant stood 
 Before the scion of his blood : 
 
THE BRIGAND'S DAUGHTER. 89 
 
 Her quiv'ring form, her head declin'd 
 Made no impression on his mind — 
 To stone I would compare his heart 
 But that it oft hath a soft part ; 
 More rather as a diamond bright, 
 Hard within, but shedding light — 
 He hearken' d to her throbbing breath ; 
 But in the silence hover'd death. 
 He spake the doom, the doom was death. 
 When justice by such lawless breath 
 Shall be invok'd from off her throne, 
 To grant to all their lawful own, 
 Shall writhe the guilty wretch beneath 
 Her falchion, gleaming from its sheath ; 
 But purity and innocence 
 Shall triumph, tho' with frail defence, 
 Despite of honied eloquence. 
 He spake ; but ere the words were o'er 
 Fell Zella senseless on the floor. 
 She was a child of Nature, and 
 No more of grief could she withstand ; 
 
 7 
 
70 THE BRIGAND'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 But as she fell one piercing shriek 
 
 Resounded to the castle's peak. 
 
 The father stood above his child ; 
 
 His bright eye flashing stern and wild — 
 
 The Spanish poniard rais'd on high 
 
 To strike, "thus shall the traitress die." 
 
 But Justice interposed her aid, 
 
 The fiendish deed of guilt she staid. 
 
 The shriek, which like the swan's last note 
 
 Told life a moment was afloat, 
 
 Was borne to brave Lenardo's ear ; 
 
 Then rush'd he on in mad career. 
 
 The shouts without rang loud and high, 
 And petrified each brigand's eye ; 
 The clash of arms resounded through 
 The halls and galleries anew. 
 Still nearer sounds the tramp of feet ; 
 Still nearer sounds their senses greet ; 
 Like a breaker hurl'd upon the shore, 
 Lenardo stands within the door ; 
 
THE BRIGAND'S DAUGHTER. 71 
 
 And 'round about, behind him stand, 
 
 With grim aspect his faithful band. 
 
 " Unsheathe your swords,'' the brigand cried; 
 
 Their sheaths hung swordless by each side. 
 
 The blood rush'd back to Zella's cheek ; 
 
 And, tottering forward, frail and weak, 
 
 She rested on Lenardo's arm : 
 
 And cried, " Saved ! saved at last from harm : 
 
 But spare my father — " 'twas too late : 
 
 He rush'd upon his own sad fate. 
 
 But one more stroke — a stroke of death — 
 
 A score of swords then still' d his breath : 
 
 His dream of life would soon be o'er ; 
 
 He grappled with the oaken floor ; 
 
 Like whirling eddies in the tide 
 
 His eyes seem'd starting from his head ; 
 
 He loudly gnash'd his teeth — he's dead ! — 
 'Twas thus the guilty brigand died : 
 Unpardon'd, and unpardoning he died. 
 
THE DREAM 
 
 If sometime in the mighty realm of verse, 
 
 When shook by storm — when shook by blast ; — 
 
 Oppress'd by winds adverse : — 
 When quiv'ring to its oaken mast, 
 Our country's cause shall 'rouse the minstrel's pen, 
 May vile disunion seek the harbor of its den. 
 
 The evening zephyrs in the gentle spring — 
 When night had closed the gates of day — 
 
 Came, borne on music's wing, 
 So soft from flowery fields away ; 
 The dying embers in my grate essay'd 
 To cast one feeble ray, then sank to endless shade. 
 
THE DREAM. 73 
 
 My troubled mind felt wearied, and I slept ; 
 
 And as I slept, I dreamed a dream : 
 Cold shudders o'er me crept ; 
 
 Grim, ghostly forms did 'fore me gleam ; 
 I stood alone, it seem'd my native land — 
 A blacken'd, ruin'd mass — a dark, dark, dreary 
 
 strand. 
 
 Two mighty armies did I see engaged ; 
 
 The one came South, the other North ; 
 With deadly weapons waged ; 
 
 They met upon their mother earth ; 
 And fathers to their sons were there opposed ; 
 And brothers in the deadly grip of anger closed. 
 
 Came gloomy night, and frown'd upon their strife ; 
 
 The sun went down, and rose in blood, 
 The work of death was rife ; 
 
 And blood was shed, and flow'd a flood ; 
 And war with desolation did preside ; 
 The cry was " yield or die," and fighting still they 
 
 died. 
 
 7* 
 
74 THE DREAM. 
 
 Came morn, came noon ; yet none from battle fled ; 
 
 Tho' mangled thousands laid a heap 
 Of groaning, dying, dead, 
 
 And tears of blood the earth did weep ; 
 Yet still extermination's havoc peal'd, 
 And left their mouldering bodies tombless on the 
 
 field. 
 
 Of all this mighty host but few remain'd ; 
 
 Their arms sank powerless to the ground ; 
 And, hideously strain' d, 
 
 Their eyes unearthly glared around. 
 They died defenceless — to wild beasts a prey ; 
 And none were left to tell the horrors of the day. 
 
 Before me stretch'd as far as eye could stray, 
 
 A heap of human forms — all dead. 
 A ghastly light did play 
 
 Around the plain, glaring with red ; 
 And vultures shriek'd aloud with putrid breath, 
 And hover'd o'er the dead ; then fell as gorged to 
 
 death. 
 
THE DREAM. 75 
 
 And prowling wolves did roam the hideous place ; 
 
 And wallow'd in a sea of gore : 
 They tore the flesh apace ; 
 
 There was enough for all ; and more : 
 There died a brother by a brother's hand ; 
 And fathers with their sons did moulder on the sand. 
 
 Still changing did my heated fancy glide. — 
 The plants grew up, but bore no fruit ; 
 
 Their stems with blood were dyed : 
 And ruin'd towns did moulder mute. 
 
 The air, the earth, the water all look'd grave ; 
 
 And ships did wander manless on the deep blue 
 wave. 
 
 And faction strove with faction to the death : 
 
 The tillers of the soil did make 
 The share into a sheath : 
 
 The fields were one vast bloody lake : 
 And I did see upon a cloud of flame 
 A hideous, hellish hag — Disunion was her name. 
 
76 THE DREAM. 
 
 Like devils grinning o'er a dying prey 
 She smiled ; but in her smile was death : 
 
 She blasted to decay 
 The fields and cities with her breath ; 
 And whirlwinds issued from her wither'd face 
 Until each rock-ribbed mountain trembled to its 
 base. 
 
 My brain did whirl in frensy ; I was sad : 
 
 My soul did sicken at the sight 
 That men should thus be mad, 
 
 And gage their arms in deadly fight, 
 And shed the blood by nature made most dear. — 
 I turn'd away ; and, grieving, sought another sphere. 
 
77 
 
 THE STAR OF INTELLECT 
 
 As I gazed upon the heavens I beheld a rising star, 
 'Twas a bright and brilliant meteor shining from 
 
 the sky afar : 
 It was born within a moment ; yet it died not at its 
 
 birth ; 
 But it shed its radiant brilliance to the utmost verge 
 
 of earth. 
 
 When above the dim horizon it first lifted up its 
 
 head, 
 And its scarlet and its golden on the other stars 
 
 were shed, 
 
78 THE STAR OF INTELLECT. 
 
 All the sky was in commotion which could glow 
 
 the greater light, 
 But their stores were all exhausted, and they left 
 
 it king of night. 
 
 Then away with freedom roaming through the 
 
 spangled milky-way, 
 It rose higher in the heavens, and then journey'd 
 
 far away ; 
 And the brightest of the meteors, as it took them 
 
 in its track, 
 Were but specks beside its glory — were but spots 
 
 of darkness black. 
 
 And it left its brilliance glowing in its many-wind- 
 ing trail, 
 
 Like a glance of Heaven's glory peeping through 
 the ether veil : 
 
 And the stars that were behind it shed a double 
 ray of light, 
 
 Which they borrow'd from their monarch as it 
 pass'd them in its flight. 
 
THE STAR OF INTELLECT. 79 
 
 And the maiden loves to ponder on the twinkling 
 
 of that star ; 
 And the soldier seeks its solace as he journeys to 
 
 the war ; 
 For, unlike the gentle Venus, or of Mars the flashes 
 
 stern, 
 In its many varied colors all the others we discern. 
 
 And that star is ever beaming in its radiancy clear, 
 With its scarlet and its golden blended in its mad 
 
 career : 
 And my spirit, fill'd with joyance, seeks to grasp 
 
 one straggling ray, 
 And embosom it forever from the glaring light of 
 
 day. 
 
 Oh ! I gaze upon its brilliance, and could gaze for- 
 
 evermore, 
 Still enchanted with its beauty 'till my dream of 
 
 life was o'er : 
 When my soul unto the Heavens shall away from 
 
 earth repair, 
 I will meet that star so lovely — I will meet it in 
 
 the air. 
 
80 
 
 CITY AND COUNTRY 
 
 I hie me from the city now, 
 
 To rest in peace my fever'd brow 
 
 Beneath some spreading willow bough, 
 
 Where peace forever reigns. 
 The souls of men, ambition blind ; 
 The parting smile so coldly kind ; 
 And city's strife I leave behind ! — 
 
 All thinking of their gains. 
 
CITfY AND COUNTRY. 81 
 
 And fashion's plumages so gay, 
 
 Which primp 'd-up maidens there display ; 
 
 And beggars loitering in the way, 
 
 All mingled into one — 
 The tramping to and fro of feet ; 
 The choking sense of sultry heat, 
 Are in the city's busy street, 
 
 Where silence ne'er was known. 
 
 The city's throng, in heat so poor, 
 
 Is beautiful by art to lure ; 
 
 But Nature, goddess of the pure ! 
 
 In sweet communion dwells 
 In flowery fields forever green, 
 When zephyrs calmly, soft, serene, 
 Waft incense to their worship 'd queen 
 
 From sweetly scented cells. 
 
 Loved Nature, charmer of my soul ! 
 Thy empire is from pole to pole ; 
 E'en where the foaming billows roll, 
 
 Lashing the sinful world ; 
 
 8 
 
82 CITY AND COUNTRY. 
 
 As if they would the arts defy 
 Casting their briny spray on high, 
 Unto the far-stretch' d silent sky ; 
 Then, thundering back, are hurl'd. 
 
 Give me the country's wholesome air, 
 When morning in her robes so fair 
 Arises from her moisten' d lair, 
 
 Far off behind the hills, — 
 The carolings of songsters sweet, 
 Which with the dews of morning greet 
 The soul, in joyful strains replete, — 
 
 And gentle, rippling rills. 
 
 What joy to stray at break of day ; 
 And catch the sun's first rising ray ; 
 And watch the dew-drops melt away, 
 
 So softly dropping down ; 
 And see the mist, like to a shroud, 
 Enveloping the mountain proud, 
 'Till far above it hangs a cloud. 
 
 And glistens like a crown. 
 
CITY AND COUNTRY. 83 
 
 No smoky veil obscures the night : 
 But Heaven's harbingers so bright 
 Smile softly from their realms of light, 
 
 And twinkle in the air : 
 No rattling, rolling of the dray, 
 But sweet contentment's silent sway 
 Has shed its calm — drove care away, 
 
 'Till all is sweet and fair. 
 
 Trudge on, ye sons of paltry gain ! 
 Enjoy your pleasures — all is pain 
 Where dust and dirt supremely reign, 
 
 And knowing no release — 
 Seek comfort in the motley crowd ; 
 But here the pride of wealth is bow'd : 
 The woods, the fields proclaim aloud 
 
 That all is peace, peace, peace. 
 
84 
 
 FRIENDSHIP. 
 
 A priceless jewel is true friendship rare, 
 
 Seen glittering isolated in the wilds 
 
 Of an uncultivated, desert waste, 
 
 A bright and sparkling diamond gem of night, 
 
 Resplendent in the lustre of its hue. 
 
 To gain forever, and embosom in 
 
 His breast, one true, one solitary friend, 
 
 Mankind starts on the pleasing pilgrimage ; 
 
 Now on the stormy shore tempestuous thrown ; 
 
 Now buffetting the billows of the world : 
 
 Now o'er his head the breakers burst their roar ; 
 
 Yet still he passes harmless on his way 
 
 To seek the only comfort of his life ; 
 
FRIENDSHIP. 85 
 
 For what is life without one friend to share 
 
 The ebbs and flows of fickle fortune's tide ? 
 
 Again he speeds along impetuous, 
 
 And drives the beasts of envv from their lairs : 
 
 In vain the birds of prey shriek from the air : 
 
 Their wailings all but render thrice more dear 
 
 The power of the distant, desert gem, 
 
 Then, blinded by the spell of flattery, 
 
 He clutches, as he thinks, the long-sought gem 
 
 And clasps it to his heart in gladsome pride ; 
 
 And while posterity and wealth remain 
 
 'Twill ever break upon his flatter'd sight, 
 
 Glittering with affection's steady light ; 
 
 But when grim time shall have bedimm'd his brow, 
 
 And cluster'd o'er his head its chilling dew ; — 
 
 When wealth, the bauble of a tainted earth, 
 
 Shall scatter'd be unto the mammon world ; — 
 
 And when adversity shall, in her course 
 
 Of sorrow^, through the rich abodes of man, 
 
 Have yielded him of abject poverty 
 
 An ample due — then will he wistful turn 
 
 Unto his fondly-cherish'd bosom friend, 
 
 8* 
 
86 FRIENDSHIP. 
 
 And seek within its sparkling radiance 
 
 For sympathetic condolence, to bid 
 
 Him hope, and sternly battle fate's decree : 
 
 But vainly will he seek that diamond gem ; 
 
 For with prosperity has fled his friend. 
 
 Now, while his aged brow with gloom's o'erspread, 
 
 Will flash upon the simple, wo-struck wretch 
 
 The anguishing conviction that, instead 
 
 Of the true jewel from the desert gem, 
 
 Which still shines brightly in the distance far, 
 
 And sheds its radiant lustre, as a star 
 
 Glists through the misty screen of darkness vague, 
 
 He has for years hugged to his bosom close, 
 
 And wasted all his wealth upon its shrine, 
 
 An ignis fatuus, which, when the clouds 
 
 Of threatening ruin gather'd thickly round, 
 
 And when the fog of stern adversity 
 
 Had in a mantle drear of blasted hopes 
 
 Enveloped him, stole softly from his breast, 
 
 And left his aching bosom void of hope ; 
 
 Then silently departed on its ways 
 
 To lure another victim to despair. 
 
87 
 
 THE BROKEN HEART 
 
 I follow'd in the trail of one 
 
 Whose pinions light were furl'd, 
 Whose spirit to its home had gone, 
 
 And left this wicked world. 
 The church-bell melancholy chimed 
 
 Its loud and solemn strain, 
 While to its beatings slowly timed 
 
 The footsteps of the train : 
 Still swept the trailing mourners by, 
 And dimm'd with tears the gazer's eye. 
 
 It was a silent, sleeping spot, 
 Where was the new-made grave, 
 
88 THE BROKEN HEART. 
 
 A golden, moss-embosom'd grot, 
 
 Where weeping willows wave : 
 Here, scatter'd round, old, hoary tombs 
 
 The moss of time amass ; 
 And o'er their crumbling sides there plumes 
 
 The rankly-growing grass ; 
 The rust of ages had effaced 
 The epitaphs that friends had traced. 
 
 When twilight's spreading drapery 
 
 Betoken'd coming e'en, 
 I stood hard by a willow tree, 
 
 And gazed upon the scene : 
 They placed the coffin in the ground, 
 
 And, when upon the dead 
 They dropp'd the earth with dismal sound, 
 
 A silent tear I shed : 
 And then there echoed through the vale, 
 A youthful maiden's weeping wail. 
 
 The earth they sodded o'er the grave; 
 Then turn'd the mourning maid, 
 
THE BROKEN HEART. 89 
 
 Who lov'd the living, youthful brave, 
 
 Nor dying, did it fade. 
 She pass'd me, clothed in sable guise, 
 
 A solemn, touching sight ; 
 Her drooping lashes fringed her eyes, 
 
 Like noonday tinged by night : 
 And from those orbs of brilliant hue 
 Fast flow'd down drops of pearly dew. 
 
 Her form for earth was far too fair, 
 
 Rounded in rich relief; 
 And on her neck hung down her hair, 
 
 Dishevel'd by her grief: 
 And from her lips she murmur'd low 
 
 The moans of blasted love, 
 Which, smother'd forth, incessant flow 
 
 Unto the youth above : 
 Her every dream of joy had fled — 
 All center'd in the absent dead. 
 
 Her lover dead at e'en she'd sit, 
 And gaze on vacancy ; 
 
90 THE BROKEN HEART. 
 
 Her eye, now dull, with sorrow lit, 
 
 Had lost its energy. 
 She loved but now that hope was gone, 
 
 She'd drain her eye-lids bare ; 
 Her spirit's soul she knew was lone — 
 
 All given to despair : 
 Could ever grief like this survive, 
 When sympathy no aid could give ? 
 
 No human heart, no mortal frame 
 
 Could bide such lingering pain — 
 The higher mounts the fiery flame 
 
 To sooner droop again : 
 The dove that parts its mate, will sigh 
 
 Awhile disconsolate : 
 But soon its tears of grief 'twill dry, 
 
 Then woo another mate ; 
 But woman's grief will last till death 
 Shall still in peace her burning breath. 
 
 When Autumn drear had spread her screen 
 O'er nature's flowery face, 
 
THE BROKEN HEART. 91 
 
 I came unto the village scene, 
 
 I sought the sacred place : 
 And when unto the tomb I came, 
 
 And read the words indent, 
 I saw engraved the maiden's name 
 
 Upon the monument. 
 It needed not of mystic art 
 To read the tale of a broken heart. 
 
92 
 
 THE DARK NIGHT 
 
 The sun lay just above the hills. 
 Casting his gorgeous robe of gold 
 
 Far o'er the fields and rippling rills, 
 And tinged the tops of castles old. 
 
 Awhile he lay and cast his rays 
 
 More brilliant for the coming dearth ; 
 
 For night would soon exert her sway, 
 And shed her gloom o'er prostrate earth, 
 
 Then downward quickly in despair 
 He hides his face from mortal view : 
 
 Now darkness hovers through the air — 
 Unfolds his shroud of sable hue. 
 
THE DARK NIGHT. 93 
 
 dreary night ! no twinkling stars, 
 
 No blushing moon, now yield their light ; 
 
 But darkness reigns — forever mars 
 The peaceful pleasures of the night. 
 
 Still onward speeds he o'er the land, 
 
 Leaves desolation in his sweep ; 
 And lightly with his magic wand 
 
 Closes the drowsy lids in sleep. 
 
 A sigh for thee, bright, beauteous moon, 
 Now shrouded from my longing view ; 
 
 And yet another for the noon, 
 
 And for the morning bathed in dew. 
 
 A dreary, solemn sound of w r o 
 
 Comes moaning through the heavy air, 
 
 And measures out its accents slow, 
 
 Like the smother'd sobbings of despair. 
 
 Thick, heavy clouds of darkness hang 
 
 O'er city, land and sea in gloom ; 
 
 9 
 
94 THE DARK NIGHT. 
 
 The ocean with its boist'rous clang 
 
 Seems like a midnight, groaning tomb. 
 
 No light beams from the heavenly grot, 
 Save here and there a single spark 
 
 Breaks from some farmer's lowly cot, 
 To make the darkness still more dark. 
 
 What deeds of darkness, deeds of blood, 
 The murderer on his victim's trail, 
 
 Despairing manhood seeking food, 
 Are hid beneath thy dismal veil. 
 
 The throbbing brows by anguish toss'd, 
 Tho' smiling midst the multitude, 
 
 By seeming placid, life exhaust, 
 Find refuge in thy solitude. 
 
 Wander, ye ghosts, ye restless souls ; 
 
 The curtain of your life's unfurl' d, 
 Crime-blazon'd on eternal scrolls ; 
 
 'Tis meet such forms should be thy world. 
 
THE DARK NIGHT. 95 
 
 Cold shudders o'er my spirit creep, 
 
 And parch the fountains of my breath : 
 
 This silence seems not that of sleep ; 
 But rather like the hush of death. 
 
96 
 
 A SHEET OF PAPER. 
 
 Let me, fair, snow-white sheet, thy mystic read. 
 
 The story of thy life, 
 Ere thou shalt to the world with fancy speed, 
 
 Ere thou art doom'd to strife. 
 
 Oh ! what a world of happy thoughts condense 
 
 Around thy former fate ! 
 Now stretch' d before me in thy innocence, 
 
 With form so delicate. 
 
 Let wiser men unfold their mighty strains, 
 
 Or fools thy beauty blot ; 
 But I will bear thee free from awkward stains, 
 
 And ponder on thy lot. 
 
A SHEET OF PAPER. 97 
 
 Perchance a rag within the gutter laid, 
 
 But some poor ruffian pick'd ; 
 Since thou wert fondled by some gentle maid, 
 
 Then from her chamber kick'd. 
 
 Who knows but that when in thy former state, 
 
 Once woven in a sack, 
 Thou wast encircled round some monarch great, 
 
 Or cloth'd some beggar's back ? 
 
 Or yet perchance, within thy fond embrace 
 
 Some swan-like, snowy neck 
 Thou didst encircle with a lovely grace, 
 
 And some fair maiden deck. 
 
 What boots it what thou wert ? to me thou art 
 
 For aye a virgin sheet, 
 Fit partner for the secrets of my heart, 
 
 So silent and discreet. 
 
 I love thee when thy form is deck'd with love, 
 
 Sweet messenger of thought ! 
 
 9* 
 
98 A SHEET OF PAPER. 
 
 To me thou art then gentle as a dove 
 By beauteous angels brought. 
 
 Yet not immaculate, thou hast the lines 
 
 Of trouble on thy brow : 
 Mysterious destiny ! thus fate entwines 
 
 Its marks on sheets of snow. 
 
99 
 
 BEAUTY. 
 
 We love to gaze upon the rose. 
 
 With festal view, 
 Where modesty, where beauty glows ; 
 
 And brush the dew 
 From off its leaves; and softly close 
 Its rich, ripe lips so bright, 
 
 In crimson light, 
 
 Its petals slight 
 From weather and from blight, 
 From envy and from jealous eyes ; 
 
 And then to greet, 
 As it doth, spreading upwards, rise, 
 
 The perfume sweet ; 
 
 Enraptur'd meet 
 
100 BEAUTY. 
 
 The essence of a thousand sighs. 
 We love the rose ; for in its cells, 
 
 'Mid perfum'd smells, 
 
 There ever dwells 
 Rich Beauty with her spells, 
 Entrancing, witching, magic spells. 
 
 We love the sunset in the eve, 
 
 When new-born spring 
 O'er nature, over earth doth weave 
 
 Its flowery wing — 
 An angel of redeeming grace, 
 Redeeming earth from Winter's chill embrace. 
 We love the sunset with its rays, 
 
 Its radiant tinge, 
 
 Like golden fringe 
 Reflected from a distant blaze — 
 The gentle, soothing light, 
 
 That beams so bright, 
 That spreads along the sky — 
 The deep, blue silent sky — 
 Its variegated colors clear 
 
BEAUTY. 101 
 
 With rich transparency ; 
 
 Then silently, 
 Like lengthen'd echoes seeming near, 
 Its heavenly splendors disappear ; 
 
 And, fix'd in gaze, 
 It leaves the eye as lost in maze. 
 We love the sunset in the vale, 
 
 The sun's last trail ; 
 For Beauty spreads the golden veil, 
 The azure-tinted varied veil, 
 The rich, and rare, and radiant veil. 
 
 Music, music with its strains 
 
 Of melody, 
 Melodious from its secret veins, 
 
 So merrily 
 With swelling numbers haply chains 
 
 The listening soul 
 With pleasant, sweet control — 
 In rapture lets the spirit roll ; — 
 
 Orchestral strains, 
 
 Like hurricanes, 
 
102 BEAUTY. 
 
 First sounding in the distance far, 
 Harmonious stealing through the air 
 With liquid notes ; — 
 So softly floats, 
 As mellow-sounding bells 
 From curtain'd cells, 
 Sweet melody from bird-like throats- 
 Then nigher, nigher, 
 Higher, higher — 
 Now is loose the number'd bar — 
 
 Like martial notes of war, 
 It swells out boldly on the breeze, 
 Mounts high in air, 
 With wellings rare ; 
 Then doubles o'er a cloud, 
 That's floating on so proud : 
 And downward bends, 
 To earth descends 
 With soothing, solemn sounds : 
 In exstacy my heart rebounds 
 
 With joy and peace. 
 For me will music never cease 
 
BEAUTY. 103 
 
 To give surcease ; 
 And while its strains in action move 
 I yield my soul to lasting love ; 
 
 For from its cells, 
 
 In close embrace 
 
 Peeps Beauty's face 
 
 With all her spells, 
 Her witching, magic spells. 
 
 We love to gaze upon the bright, 
 
 The angel-like 
 And lovely maid, with sweet delight ; 
 Her radiant beauties strike 
 
 Upon the heart 
 
 With pleasing art, 
 And stirring pleasures dart 
 Through all the channels of the frame 
 
 With passion's flame, 
 With soul-entrancing, fiery flame : 
 We bend, we bow beneath her rays ; 
 
 And rapturous gaze 
 Upon the love-light of her eyes ; 
 
104 BEAUTY. 
 
 In spotless purity 
 We idolize ; 
 We love, and, worshipping, we die : 
 'Tis meet we thus should yield our breath, 
 
 'Till, doom'd to death, 
 We sink beneath the bursting load. 
 The maiden bright 
 Is Beauty's fix'd abode, 
 A paradisial site, 
 A heavenly home, with angels for her light, 
 
105 
 
 HEILRICH HALL. 
 
 The feast was gay in Heilrich Hall ; 
 
 The wine and mirth did flow like rain : 
 And all was jqj^, for but that night 
 
 The lord had wed the lady Jane. 
 
 A thousand lights did shed their light, 
 A thousand songs did swell the air ; 
 
 And all was joy to see the lord, 
 And by his side the lady fair. 
 
 His armor flash'd and gleam'd with gold, 
 
 And pleasure teem'd upon his brow; 
 
 And all was joy, the old lord smiled, 
 
 Like sunshine on a wither 'd bough. 
 
 10 
 
106 HEILRICH HALL. 
 
 The lady Jane was robed in white. 
 And blushes mantled o'er her face ; 
 
 And all was joy, to see the bride 
 
 Bedeck'd with Beauty's smiling grace. 
 
 The bridal wreath was on her brow, 
 And diamonds sparkled on each hand : 
 
 And all was joy; the lord had wed 
 The loveliest lady of the land. 
 
 She wed the old lord for his wealthy 
 She wed him for his acres broad ; 
 
 But far away young Roderick Gray 
 Her heart had ta'en with him abroad. 
 
 A thousand forms kept merry time, 
 And waltzed along so proud and tall ; 
 
 And all was joy, the lady smiled, 
 For she was queen of Heilrich Hall. 
 
 She whirl' d unheeded through the waltz, 
 And with a stranger sought the lawn ; 
 
HEILRICH HALL. 107 
 
 While all was joy, a murmur rose 
 That lovely lady Jane was gone. 
 
 The feast is o'er in Heilrich Hall, 
 
 And tears are flowing down like rain ; 
 
 And all is grief; for the old lord 
 Has lost the lovely lady Jane. 
 
 They sought her in the lofty halls, 
 
 They sought her in the woods around ; 
 
 They search'd three days, they search'd three 
 nights, 
 But lady Jane was never found. 
 
 The lamp lights gloat along the walls, 
 
 And in their golden sockets gleam ; 
 And all is grief, to see the lord 
 
 Roam o'er the hall as in a dream. 
 
 The guests have fled from Heilrich Hall ! 
 
 They left the old man with his cane, 
 And all his grief; a piteous sight, 
 
 The old lord seeking lady Jane. 
 
108 HEILRICH HALL. 
 
 With gait unsteady still he seeks, 
 
 And wanders up and down the brook ; 
 
 He roams again the forest wood, 
 And pries into each shaded nook. 
 
 His form is bent, his brow is pale — 
 The work of ages in a night : 
 
 And all is grief; no more shall he 
 Behold his lovely lady bright. 
 
 The feast was high in Heilrich Hall, 
 
 When to a vessel in the bay 
 There fled an erring, guilty pair ; — 
 
 'Twas lady Jane and Roderick Gray. 
 
 The storm blew loud with angry breath, 
 And lash'd the vessel with its spray ; 
 
 It struck ! it sank ! and thus the death 
 Of lady Jane and Roderick Gray. 
 
109 
 
 GENIUS. 
 
 Fancy urges, reason lingers, 
 Meditating on her fingers 
 
 Of the flowing, 
 
 And the glowing 
 Of the tide of public feeling ; — > 
 On so dilatory stealing, 
 All its tardiness revealing, 
 And its fear of life concealing ; 
 Until Genius lightly jetting, 
 All its gems together linking 
 With its bright and brilliant thinking, 
 
 With no flushes, with no blushes, — 
 Plodding reason oversetting ; 
 
 From its fountain upward gushes, 
 
 Ever onward madly rushes. 
 
 Fancy saunters through the flowers, 
 
 Through the roses, through the bowers ; 
 
 10* 
 
110 GENIUS. 
 
 Softly welling, 
 
 Gently swelling 
 Through the realm of rare romances, 
 Over gardens lightly dances, 
 Casting here and there its glances, 
 Teeming fresh from sunny trances 
 With its tiny wreaths of roses ; 
 
 But through fields of golden tresses, 
 Proudly stalking, Genius presses, 
 
 Culling gems of rarest splendor ; 
 In the field of life reposes, 
 
 Mingling feelings soft and tender 
 
 Homage never doth it render. 
 
 Fancy, as a child who's smiling, 
 All its future fate beguiling, 
 
 With its twinkling, 
 
 And its tinkling, 
 Lightly flowing, cometh leaping ; 
 Culling flowers softly sleeping, 
 From their mossy bowers peeping ; 
 But, with mighty pinions sweeping, 
 
GENIUS, 111 
 
 Genius grasps the golden treasures, 
 Weaves a cliaplet for the season 
 From the mines unknown to reason — 
 Polish'd than the snow-drift whiter, 
 Bears them off to gladden'd pleasures. 
 Fancy is the feeling lighter ; 
 Genius is the passion brighter. 
 
 Fancy ! Fancy ! thou art tender, 
 While with genius all is splendor : 
 
 As the fountain 
 
 From the mountain 
 Thou art welling, gaily twining : 
 Rich with beauties thou art shining, 
 All the sweets of life combining ; 
 In a rosy bed reclining, 
 Light and pleasant are thy slumbers. 
 Genius ! Genius ! with thy glory, 
 Never ancient, never hoary ; 
 
 Thou art joyous, sweetly pleasant 
 With thy mighty, magic numbers ; 
 
 And thy thoughts are ever crescent 
 
 On the Future, Past, and Present. 
 
112 
 
 CLARAWAY. 
 
 In the soothing hour of night, when the stars were 
 twinkling bright, 
 I sat lonely, with me only, in the moonbeams' 
 mellow ray ; 
 Of my lov'd one was I dreaming, her each token 
 
 'fore me beaming, 
 Glisten'd freshly to my sight, all her loveliness was 
 teeming ; 
 And I wept o'er every gift, stretch'd before me 
 as they lay, 
 
 For my lost Claraway. 
 
 'Twas when nature was austere, in the Autumn 
 time of year, 
 When the flowers in the bowers had all moul- 
 der'd to decay ; 
 
CLARA W A Y . 118 
 
 When the turtle broken-hearted call'd its mate that 
 
 had departed, 
 And in plaintives low and clear, told its happiness 
 was thwarted ; 
 That I warbled in a sigh, a soft melancholy lay 
 
 For my lost Claraway. 
 
 First I sang the carol slowly in accents soft and 
 low, 
 But then quicker and still quicker did I chant 
 my roundelay ; 
 And my bosom full of grieving, fell to beating and 
 
 to heaving 
 With an overweight of wo which my fancy was con- 
 ceiving, 
 For an image on the table led my spirit off astray 
 
 For my lost Claraway. 
 
 Then I ponder'd on the face, and the lineaments 
 did trace, 
 Which were planted, as I chanted to the evening 
 silver-gray, 
 
114 CLARAWAY. 
 
 In my bosom young and tender, with their soft and 
 
 witching splendor ; 
 And my homage to each grace of the picture did I 
 render ; 
 Then I ceased my gentle lay, and it echoed far 
 away 
 
 To my lost Claraway. 
 
 Then a radiant cloud of light saw I floating on so 
 bright : 
 It descended as it wended through the glittering 
 milky-way, 
 To the turrets old and hoary with its splendor and 
 
 its glory. 
 And its edges were as white as ever teem'd in 
 fabled story, 
 And as charming, and as innocently charming 
 as a ray 
 
 From the eyes of Claraway. 
 
DLARAWAY. 115 
 
 Still it downwards slowly came, shedding out its 
 brilliant flame, 
 Then it whirling and it twirling in the radiance 
 of its ray, 
 'Till it hover'd o'er my chamber, in the fragrance 
 
 sweet as amber 
 From the cypress at my frame, which did, twining 
 upwards, clamber, 
 Where full many a happy day have I sweetly 
 pass'd away 
 
 With my loved Claraway. 
 
 Then so gently from the cloud came a warbling 
 sweet and loud ; 
 And it thrill'd me, and it fill'd me with a feeling 
 soft and gay ; 
 For the music o'er me stealing to the ceiling came 
 
 a-pealing, 
 And the warbling from the cloud to my sadden'd 
 soul revealing 
 That the melody I heard was from her so far 
 away, 
 
 From mine own Claraway. 
 
116 CLARAWA Y . 
 
 " Let thy sadden'd soul rejoice," said the happy, 
 happy voice, 
 " And thy sadness be to gladness in this moment 
 changed away ; 
 I have watch' d thy midnight dreaming when the 
 
 silver queen was beaming, 
 And thy spirit's only choice was unto thy fancy 
 teeming, 
 And the zephyrs bore away thy soft melancholy 
 
 lay, 
 
 To thine own Claraway. 
 
 " I was floating through the skies, when thy sad, 
 heart-rending sighs 
 Came resounding and rebounding on the pinions 
 of a fay ; 
 And then quickly to my master I sped onward fast 
 
 and faster, 
 And unfolded to his eyes thy despairing and disaster, 
 Then he bade me haste away, and thy faithful 
 soul convey 
 
 To thine own Claraway. 
 
CLARA WAY. 117 
 
 " Come, and follow me, thy love, to the myrtle 
 groves above ; 
 In Elysian fields of vision you may ever, ever 
 stray ; 
 And 'mid scenes of crystal splendor our unbroken 
 
 vows we'll render : 
 There no troubles will commove thy pure spirit, 
 meek and tender." 
 Here the warbling died away, and my voice did 
 then essay 
 
 Thus to answer Claraway. 
 
 " Yes, I'll follow thee, my love, to the myrtle groves 
 above, 
 Where each token, vows unbroken, shall be har- 
 bor'd from decay ; 
 Where sweet melodies are ringing, and the angels 
 
 all are singing, 
 Where the messengers of love their pure offerings 
 are bringing ; 
 There away unto the skies will I journey far away 
 
 With mine own Claraway. 
 11 
 
118 CLARAWAY. 
 
 "Oh! what rapture will be there as we hover on 
 the air ; 
 Ever flitting, never sitting, will we pass the 
 live-long day : 
 There will be no solemn sorrow, neither anguish 
 
 for the morrow, 
 But the pleasures of the air from the angels will we 
 borrow ; — 
 I still chanting in my lay all my gloom and wo 
 away 
 
 With mine own Claraway." 
 
 By my casement was I leaning, looking forth upon 
 the scene, 
 
 When so brightly and so lightly came the vision 
 and the lay ; 
 But my bosom then conceiving a foul, filthy tone 
 
 of grieving 
 That the singing and the sheen were my heated 
 fancy's weaving ; 
 
 I did murmur in dismay, " tis but mockery I 
 survey, 
 
 Not mine own Claraway." 
 
CLARA WAY. 119 
 
 " Be thy meager soul abhor'd, for the vile, distrust- 
 ing word 
 Thou hast spoken, has now broken all the links 
 of love away ; 
 And the bolts shall all be riven that thy Truth and 
 
 Faith had driven, 
 For the soul that can distrust cannot ever enter 
 Heaven : 
 Now return unto thy dreaming and thy melan- 
 choly lay ; 
 
 Thou hast lost Claraway." 
 
 Then the radiant cloud of light slowly wended 
 through the night ; 
 And then quicker did it flicker as it floated far 
 away; 
 And the night grew dark and dreary, and my soul 
 
 grew weak and weary ; 
 And the moon grew dim for shame, leaving me with 
 midnight dreary ; 
 And the rustling of the breeze at my window 
 seem'd to say, 
 
 " Thou hast lost Claraway." 
 
120 CLARAWAY, 
 
 Oh ! I shudder at the thought what Distrust has on 
 me wrought ; 
 
 For so solemn, like a column, from my casement 
 far away 
 I am gazing, broken-hearted, where the cloud of 
 
 light departed ; 
 And a moaning wears my spirit, now my hopes 
 have all been thwarted, 
 
 And in tones like molten lead I still hear an 
 echo say, 
 
 " Thou hast lost Claraway." 
 
 THE END, 
 
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