V<\t; / 
 
 
 

 
PLANTATION^AYS 
 
 m 
 
 OTHER POEMS^ 
 
 BELTON O'NEALL TOWNSEND, A. B., and 
 
 Attorney at Law. 
 
 33 
 
 " Mr. Bret Harte is credited with the statement that the South offers special 
 advantages to the novelist. He might truly have added, to the poet also. ' 
 
 Atlantic Monthlv 
 
 COLUMHIA, S. C 
 Charles A. Calvo, Jk., Pkintek. 
 
 1884. 
 
T3 
 
 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1884, 
 
 By Belton O'Neall Townsend, 
 In the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington. 
 
 NOTICE. 
 
 Copies hereof sent by mail postpaid, on receipt of I1.25 each, (usual discount to 
 booksellers,) by the author, at Florence, S. C. 
 
DEDICATION 
 
 Mr. W. D. Howells: 
 
 Not only am I indebted to you more than to any other literary 
 friend for assistance, kindness and attention, but also for frequent 
 encouraging and flattering expressions such as these: "I have no 
 doubt that your destiny is literature. -^ * * You have already 
 made an impression which few men of your age have done, and you 
 have but to go on in the course you have taken. ^ * * Do you 
 know that they [my prose productions, anonymous or under notns de 
 plume'] have been made the subject of wide editorial comment in the 
 North?" 
 
 As some token of gratitude, I beg to inscriiie to you these few 
 poems — the rather limited crop (though secretly the real life-work) 
 of twenty-nine ambitious years; and all the more is it appropriate in 
 that the longest of them, " Wild Wiih All Regret," was originally 
 instigated (along with much not in verse) by another sentence of yours 
 in a letter to me : " Why not try something in the way of a very 
 realistic stoiy of South Carolinian life? I am sure that you have the 
 materials for it." In confirmation of which inference of yours, by the 
 way, Longfellow (to whom was sent the MS. of about one-third of 
 these verses before his death) also wrote me : " One thing strikes me 
 very favorably in reference to your poems : I see that you have chosen 
 subjects of local interest and written about things that lie close around 
 you. That is a great secret and promise of success. We write best 
 of things into which we can put our hearts. But pray don't speak 
 of the 'despised South' — [I had in my letter referred to its position 
 
in literature.] Call it the beautiful South and write of its beauties. 
 That will interest us all." Most sincerely do I hope his assertion will 
 be vindicated by the reception of this volume, where I have attempted 
 to write of the beauties of the South, and that I may succeed in " inter- 
 esting you all" at the North, as well as those of whom I crave a nearer 
 audience. Though, as you are aware, and as I hope the public can 
 discern from the face of my verses, I am fond enough to aim far higher 
 than at being the poet of a section, a faction or a subject. Yet in 
 regard to my acquaintance with Southern life, I will say, that in the 
 main poem here printed I have endeavored to give, as it chances, a 
 true picture of the excesses during Reconstruction of the blacks. If its 
 reception convinces me that you and the public still think me possessed 
 of materials and capacity for writing stories of South Carolinian life, 
 I may publish others, mainly pi-ose, and will always endeavor, as here, 
 to fearlessly set forth the doings, the faults and the good traits of both 
 races, from the cold, impartial standpoint of the student, the scholar 
 and (I hope) the cosmopolitan; trying to 
 
 " Nothing extenuate, 
 Nor set down aught in malice." 
 
 The Author. 
 Florence, S. C, Feb^y 22, 1884. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PLANTATION LAYS. 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 1. WiM) With Ai.i, Recjhet ; a Tale of Keconstructioii 7 
 
 2. TuE Old Driver's L.vment 55 
 
 8. Poor Boss 5H 
 
 4. The Charleston* Fairy 57 
 
 5. Southern Mi'nicipal Elections. A satire (H 
 
 <■). A Serenade <i5 
 
 'i . Two Fates W 
 
 OTHER POEMS. 
 
 1. A Plea foh Jlm 69 
 
 2. Love and Estran(;ement ; a Meditative Romance 71 
 
 3. Reformation 81 
 
 4. The World's Fair, ls7<) 8H 
 
 5. Sue Never Smiles 87 
 
 f). Enviuonmknt 88 
 
 7. '• First Principles.*' 91 
 
 H. Lack of Stamps 97 
 
 9. An Ins( kiption 98 
 
 10. An Excise 99 
 
 11. .\L\.I<)1< Sl'KEAl) 99 
 
 12. Ode to Narciss.v— Anacreontic 103 
 
 13. A Ne(;ro Valentine 104 
 
 14. A Fi{A(;ment (Juvenile) 105 
 
3>*iC 
 
 ^WILDiWITHlflLLlREGRET;^ 
 
 AtTALEtOFtRECONSTRUCTION. 
 
 I'll not invoke the Muses, 
 
 But with a sheriffs sale, 
 A very homely matter, 
 
 You may think, will start my tale. 
 Yet there is not a subject 
 
 You can find in all romance 
 More tragic than the auction 
 
 Of an old inheritance. 
 The Berkeleys were a family 
 
 Whose name from earliest age 
 Of Carolina's annals 
 
 Appears on every page. 
 Before the war, their bondsmen 
 
 By the hundreds could be told. 
 And the land was half a district^ 
 
 Which their head alone controlled. 
 At peace his slaves were freedmen. 
 
 His lands were on his hands. 
 As the present of an elephant 
 
 In Eastern story stands. 
 For them there was no market, 
 
 Yet they were under tax. 
 
PLANTATION LAYS. 
 
 Which simply confiscated, 
 
 Yet would yearly greater wax. 
 Plantation on plantation 
 
 Beneath the hammer fell, 
 Till the sheriff advertised at last 
 
 He must the homestead sell. 
 ''The Oaks" was what they styled it, 
 
 A beautiful estate, 
 In all the Southern country 
 
 You would hardly find its mate. 
 And it, for generations, 
 
 Had passed from head to son, 
 Among the Berkeley people, 
 
 Ere their fortunes were undone. 
 They tried to chill the bidding, — 
 
 For land was no demand. 
 And only speculators 
 
 Were apt to be on hand : 
 A set of sharks who waited. 
 
 On every day of sale. 
 During all of Reconstruction, 
 
 Round the court house steps and jail. 
 In hopes to catch a bargain, 
 
 And for a farthing buy 
 The home of v/idows, orphans, 
 
 And turn them 'neath the sky. 
 And though I think it error 
 
 When aught the law o'errules. 
 These men were sometimes beaten 
 
 By their persecuted tools; 
 Or told (as by these Berkeleys, 
 
 While the advertisement ran,) 
 " 'Twas best on this occasion 
 
PLANTATION LAYS. 
 
 For them to have no plan ; 
 'Twas meant to buy the property, 
 
 At lowest price 'twould bring, 
 For Berkeley's wife — the owner 
 
 Could thus to homestead cling." 
 So off they stood, like vultures 
 
 Which circle round the sky, 
 While men stay near to corpses 
 
 That still unburied lie. 
 But at the last a rumor 
 
 Began to stir and grow, 
 That there would be a bidder. 
 
 Whom Berkeley knew his foe. 
 He was the county senator. 
 
 Had Bureau-Agent been, 
 And once, in course of duty, 
 
 Knocked the Oaks to enter in. 
 They spurned him from the doorway, 
 
 When they heard his hated name, 
 And told him the dogs should tear him, 
 
 If ever again he came. 
 He was termed a carpet-bagger, 
 
 For he came within the State 
 With one valise's contents, 
 
 But intent t' accumulate. 
 And fortune in battalions. 
 
 Not singly, sent her gifts, 
 As she's wont to do with blessings, 
 
 Or ills, as humor shifts. 
 For Whitmire soon held office, 
 
 Which once the Berkeleys filled. 
 While horses, rooms and equipage 
 
 In thrift proclaimed him skilled. 
 
10 PLANTATION LAYS. 
 
 First Monday dawned ; to traffic 
 
 Crowds ever come that day, ^* 
 On foot, or horse, in buggy, — 
 
 Drink sometimes makes affray. 
 The Berkelej^s' friends and kindred. 
 
 Well mounted men and brave, 
 Came early to the Court House, 
 
 With talk and aspect grave; 
 With Whitmire came a rabble 
 
 Of black militia there. 
 To which the band of Falstaff 
 
 Would very well compare. 
 A fife and drum made discord. 
 
 No step was ever kept. 
 At moves and rifle handling 
 
 An Upton would have wept. 
 These soldiers would, in conflict. 
 
 Have scattered quick and blind. 
 But the Cavaliers were conscious 
 
 Of the mighty North behind. 
 The auction was exciting. 
 
 The Berkeley party bid 
 Their utmost means, but Whitmire 
 
 Their very best outdid. 
 To raise a dollar strained them 
 
 Than fifty once far worse. 
 And very low he gained it, 
 
 'Mid many a muttered curse. 
 Then his troops, with mighty cheering, 
 
 Paraded up and down, 
 A dozen times each highway 
 
 And the public square in town. 
 Each sullen white was hooted, 
 
PLANTATION LAYS. 
 
 And while they marched in rank, 
 Large colored crowds beside them 
 
 Ran on, with curious prank. 
 With apish tricks, preceded 
 
 A clown, upon an ox. 
 While women halloaed "Glory!" 
 
 And, dancing, flapped their frocks. 
 Each white aside stood darkly. 
 
 And scarcely yielded way. 
 If on him in their marching 
 
 The column chanced to stray. 
 Till sunset lingered Berkeley, 
 
 With others used to rule. 
 And checked a dozen riots. 
 
 And kept the young men cool. 
 He rode away at twilight, 
 
 When half the crowd was gone. 
 And found the highways streaming 
 
 As he to th' Oaks went on. 
 
 His wife and daughter waited, 
 
 At their old residence. 
 All day to hear the tidings. 
 
 In weeping and suspense. 
 They ate but little dinner; 
 
 The dreary afternoon 
 Passed on the broad verandah 
 
 Until uprose the moon. 
 Their supper was dispensed with 
 
 Till Berkeley should arrive, 
 And finally to the gateway 
 
 They went adown the drive. 
 Old Chloe followed with them, 
 
13 PLANTATION LAYS. 
 
 She had been the younger's nurse, 
 And had waited on the mother 
 
 With a love unbought of purse. 
 They reached the gate, with pillars 
 
 Surmounted high with balls, 
 And listened. Soon upon their ears 
 
 A distant murmur falls. 
 It came from towards the Court House, 
 
 And as it nearer drew, 
 They made it out militia, 
 
 Dispersing — drunken, too; 
 For they were yelling, hooting, 
 
 And talking most obscene, 
 And firing, now a rifle, 
 
 Then a pistol shot between. 
 The females closed the portal. 
 
 Inside withdrew a space. 
 In hopes the rabble would pass on 
 
 And not molest the place. 
 But they stopped afront the entrance, 
 
 And loud, derisive talked 
 Of how their hero, Whitmire, 
 
 Had Berkeley's bidding balked.- 
 From this the trembling women 
 
 Their adverse fortune learned; 
 But rising grief by terror 
 
 Was quickly overturned. 
 On serenading Berkeley 
 
 (Whose absence seemed unknown) 
 The crowd resolved, and entered 
 
 The gateway, open thrown. 
 Of old who dared to visit 
 
 Without a pass was scourged, 
 
PLANTATION LAYS. 13 
 
 Hut now, ere flecl the women, 
 
 The mob around them surg 
 
 It halted at their screamin 
 
 '&' 
 
 But quickly ribaldry, 
 And shouting and derision, 
 
 Showed its hostility. 
 But suddenly a gallop 
 
 Was heard ad own the road, 
 And Berkeley burst upon them, — 
 
 His face with anger glowed. 
 But if his rage was kindling, 
 
 At their trespass, thus begun, 
 What felt he on discovering 
 
 His dear ones near o'errun ! 
 Forthwith there flashed his pistol. 
 
 And cries of fear arose. 
 As with a random volley. 
 
 Scattered his ebon foes. 
 Oblivious of their firing. 
 
 He sprang from off his steed, 
 And to the cowering females 
 
 Rushed headlong in his speed. 
 They saw his sudden entrance. 
 
 His perilous attack 
 Upon a brutish multitude, 
 
 Who did not weapons lack. 
 A gun ball struck the mother. 
 
 She sank in Chloe's arms, 
 And with one moan her soul hath flown 
 
 Far from this earth's alarms. 
 Her daughter rushed to aid her. 
 
 Saw the blood, and wildly fell 
 In fits of screaming, fainting, 
 
 Wliich weeks could hardly quell. 
 
14 PLANTATION LAYS. 
 
 The Oaks was splendid property, 
 
 But ample for a duke, 
 So Whitmire seized occasion 
 
 Th' old system to rebuke. 
 No land was owned by negroes. 
 
 As yet, though eager sought, 
 Then whites to sell them thought it 
 
 A shame, whate'er it brought. 
 (We learned full many a lesson, 
 
 In Reconstruction days, 
 And now sell white or negro. 
 
 Who can the money raise.) 
 So he cut half the property 
 
 Into a hundred farms; 
 To purchase them the freed men 
 
 Came flocking up in swarms. 
 He sold them all they wanted, 
 
 For credit or for cash, — 
 (Though those who took on credit 
 
 Discovered they were rash. 
 He did not give them titles, 
 
 But simply a receipt, 
 And promised them the papers 
 
 When payments were complete. 
 Each moved upon his purchase. 
 
 Paid more, improved it years. 
 But found when Whitmire sold the Oaks, 
 
 As afterwards appears, — 
 The gentleman who bought it 
 
 Owned each undeeded home, 
 And, but for generosity. 
 
PLANTATION LAYS. 15 
 
 They must pay o'er or roam.) 
 These newly fledged freeholders, 
 
 To build upon their land, 
 Buy all their former cabins. 
 
 That in the cpiarters stand. 
 These quickly down are taken, 
 
 And carted piecemeal on 
 Each buyer's farm though distant, 
 
 And erected o'er anon. 
 Of quarters there were several ; 
 
 The largest one was seen 
 Some furlongs from the mansion. 
 
 That crowned the whole demesne. 
 This quarter first was sold from ; 
 
 And only a single house 
 Was left a half year after, 
 
 Your attention to arouse. 
 'Twas the overseer's dwelling, 
 
 Around it was a field 
 Where in the earlier era 
 
 The cabins were revealed. 
 Law gives the bankrupt homestead — 
 
 Of very humble kind. 
 Compared to the great mansion 
 
 That Berkeley left behind. 
 A thousand dollars only 
 
 The sheriff laid aside, 
 From what the Oaks was sold for. 
 
 This refuge to provide. 
 The court must make selection. 
 
 And Whitmire interfered. 
 To mortify the enemy. 
 
 Who at him once had sneered. 
 
16 PLANTATION LAYS. 
 
 To place him in the cottage 
 
 Where his overseer had dwelt, 
 While Whitmire moved to the mansion. 
 
 Would be triumph keenly felt. 
 So this house, with fifty acres, 
 
 As the homestead was approved 
 For Berkeley, by a circuit judge 
 
 Whom Whitmire made and moved. 
 And vain protested Berkeley 
 
 And counsel that he paid, 
 The court was firm, and ordered 
 
 The investment to be made. 
 'Twas deep humiliation 
 
 To take for future home 
 A place so near the mansion 
 
 That he could see its dome. 
 Whither, of old, he'd lofty 
 
 Wave off late traveler 
 That lodging asked, if aspect 
 
 Might chance to give demur. 
 There were Berkeley, Allie, Chloe, 
 
 (Still faithful) went along, 
 He farmed the field allotted. 
 
 And brooded o'er each wrong; 
 He could not brook his fortune, 
 
 And tried to drown his woe 
 By drinking deep, a remedy 
 
 Oft tried by high and low. 
 And all the solemn lectures 
 
 The world will ever hear 
 Will hardly make us temperate, 
 
 When fortune serves severe. 
 
PLANTATION LAYS. 17 
 
 So tlie alien and negro make revel 
 
 In the banqueting halls of the proud, 
 While the olden owner is toiling, 
 
 And the mother is wrapped in the shroud. 
 And the daughter dreamily looketh, 
 
 With her elbow at rest on the sill, 
 And her hand to her cheek, as she sitteth 
 
 Each day at the house on the hill. 
 Ah Christ ! when was there such vision? 
 
 That slender, tall, beautiful form. 
 The lustrous eye and the wavy hair, 
 
 And the marble-cut, sinuous arm. 
 Yes, wavy her hair, for 'tis loose to the air, 
 
 And her dress is all crumpled and wild : 
 Ah. shame to the one who this fell work hath done, 
 
 Who hath crazed this magnificent child ! 
 Yes, crazed! — for months she lingered 
 
 From the shock of her mother's death, 
 Her brain in whirl of fever, 
 
 On fire her panting breath. 
 They long scarce hoped to save her, 
 
 Yet at the last she rose, 
 But, alas! they found that madness 
 
 Had seized her in its throes. 
 They tenderly w^aited on her. 
 
 Her, father, Chloe, too. 
 And sometimes one called Willie, 
 
 Who had loved her, ere her rue. 
 She sits and mourns, but weeps not, 
 
 Her gaze is forever kept on 
 Her olden home in the distance, 
 
 Her thoughts on the days that are gone. 
 We think not how grateful is weeping, 
 
1'^ PLANTATION LAYS. 
 
 The reason may hang on a tear, 
 For it giveth a vent to the feelings 
 
 Which, pent, into madness may flare. 
 Yet sometimes she'd roam to the churchyard, 
 
 And you'd hear the deep moan and the sigh 
 As she gazed on a wooden headmark^ 
 
 Though the tear glistened not in her eye. 
 That sculplureless grave contrasted 
 
 With its neighbors, marble crowned; 
 For a century here her kindred 
 
 Had made their burying ground; 
 But alone the murdered lady 
 
 Of all lay under the soil, 
 Without a shaft to tell you 
 
 She rested from her toil. 
 
 One day— a year from the auction — 
 
 Young Allie was thus at the grave, 
 And sat till the dews of evening 
 
 Began all things to lave, 
 Then, rising, her arms she foldeth. 
 
 And fixedly stares at the Oaks, 
 Which looms above the tree-tops, 
 
 Though the dusk her vision chokes. 
 At length she wildly starteth, 
 
 And throweth her right hand up. 
 And she swears some oath as solemn, 
 
 As if by the Holy Cup. 
 Then suddenly ceased her transport, 
 
 She left the graveyard old, 
 And rapidly walked and stealthy 
 
 Towards her home which had been sold. 
 
PLANTATION LAYS. 19 
 
 Between the Oaks and Court House 
 
 That night the meeting's held 
 Of the Loyal League, in forest 
 
 And swamp unchiimed of eld. 
 A stump sufficed for altar, 
 
 With stars and stripes 't was draped, 
 And laden with other emblems, 
 
 In certain order shaped; 
 The Bible, Constitution, 
 
 The Declaration, Sword, 
 The Ballot-box, and Sickle, 
 
 And Gavel there were stored. 
 No Censer with Liberty's Fire 
 
 Shone there, — as the ritual charged; 
 But a pine torch. Round this altar 
 
 Their circle was formed, and enlarged 
 By numerous truants, who entered 
 
 Past the sentinels posted around. 
 While the distant passer noticed 
 
 A wild and wailing sound — 
 Peculiar to negro singing 
 
 (Of which they justly brag,) 
 As they chanted "John Brown's Body," 
 
 Or '' We'll Rally Round the Flag." 
 But each prayer and exhortation, 
 
 Each oath and deep response, 
 Their gliding forms and shadows, — 
 
 All these the woods ensconce. 
 They take in several members, 
 
 With full and mystic rite, 
 Who are sworn to join the party 
 
 Which burst their bonds in might. 
 Savage and weird the picture, — 
 
20 PLANTATION LAYS. 
 
 Salvator Rosa's brush 
 Had placed it on the canvas 
 
 Such way your breath to hush. 
 There first was trained the freed man 
 
 In politics, debate; 
 And taught to love '' the Party," 
 
 And his former masters hate. 
 There was instilled the lesson 
 
 That it was right in turn 
 To steal from white oppressor, 
 
 His residence to burn. 
 So nightly rose a flaming 
 
 Far o'er the land to warn 
 That negro torch had kindled 
 
 Some dwelling, gin or barn. 
 And with gun and baying watch-dog, 
 
 You lightly slept of night, 
 And dreamed of fire and burglar, 
 
 And wakened in affright. 
 
 But to-night their chairman's absent — 
 
 'Twas Whitmire held the place — 
 They missed his thorough knowledge. 
 
 And long familiar face. 
 They late dispersed. One cluster 
 
 To approach the Oaks began. 
 All black, except a couple 
 
 Of the carpet-bagging clan : 
 Some of the brood of vultures 
 
 Who, when the battling ceased, 
 Thronged to the field and gorged till they reeled 
 
 On their national garbage feast. 
 The negroes sang and holloaed, 
 
PLANTATION LAYS. 21 
 
 Or made peculiar cries 
 Which Southrons nightly list to 
 As the negro homeward hies. 
 As they reached their homes they lingered, 
 
 Till very few were left 
 When they passed by Berkeley's cottage, 
 
 Where he dwelt of home bereft. 
 But then their uproar doi>bled, 
 
 As they marched along the street, 
 They cursed his dogs for barking, 
 
 And on his palings beat. 
 "The mad girl's not at her window," 
 
 One of the party said ; 
 Another rejoined : "Let's raid them, 
 
 Since for once we have caught her abed. 
 So when they had passed a little 
 
 Two of the crowd returned, 
 And a chicken and turn offence rails 
 They bagged while they sojourned. 
 — Such were the persecutions 
 Of Reconstruction time — 
 No wonder there were Ku Klux, 
 
 No wonder there was crime! 
 I don't believe in bondage, 
 Though Carolinian true. 
 And now regret that on us 
 
 It ever cast its hue. 
 I hope in future era 
 
 To see the negro rise 
 To worth of mind and character 
 
 Which wins of life the prize. 
 
 But to turn him loose as master — 
 
 A child in freedom's ways — 
 
22 PLANTATION LAYS. 
 
 And make his owners subjects, 
 
 Was this best way to raise? 
 God knows, perhaps 'twas better 
 
 At once to meet the shockj 
 Extract the tooth, and bolt the dose, 
 
 Not wear by drops the rock. 
 Wherever freedom dwelleth 
 
 A certain course she'll take, 
 Be sometimes charming fairy, 
 
 And sometimes groveling snake. '^ 
 I'd fain have seen the negro 
 
 Improve his chances great. 
 But he was simply human. 
 
 And met the general fate. 
 For all the course of history 
 
 Hath tended this to show: 
 That sudden revolutions 
 
 Are apt to backward flow. 
 It takes well nigh a century. 
 
 As proves each precedent. 
 One foot above the ocean 
 
 To raise a continent. 
 The dropping of a delta 
 
 Will take ten thousand years. 
 And countless ages to change rocks 
 
 To fertile hemispheres. 
 So, too, with social order, 
 
 With pleasures of mankind, 
 With all the thoughts and habits 
 
 Like ivy round him twined. 
 They will not change of sudden. 
 
 However hard you try, 
 But only after many 
 
PLANTATION LAYS. 
 
 Generations onward fly. 
 Clothe the mule with skin of lion, 
 
 'Twill quickly come to pass 
 His braying will betray him, 
 And show him still the ass. 
 The cat may change to lady, 
 But when she sees a mouse. 
 She'll straightway leap upon him, 
 And not scream o'er the house. 
 You may shave and paint the leopard, 
 
 Whiten skin of Ethiop men, 
 But the spots and ebon color 
 Will soon push out again. 
 The sow will to her wallow, 
 
 To his vomit turn the dog ; 
 And the devil's cloven foot appears, 
 
 Howe'er he tries to clog. 
 And men may raze a Bastile, 
 
 And use the guillotine 
 On many a proud aristocrat, 
 
 And on the king and queen, 
 But empire quickly follows; 
 
 Napoleon's worse than king; 
 And finally time's whirligig 
 
 The Bourbons back will bring. 
 The early Christians gloried 
 
 When their faith was made the state's; 
 But ([uickly found that baptism 
 
 Changed no man's likes or hates. 
 The awful Roman city 
 ■ Named the universal church; 
 Of pagan rites and practices 
 The converts went in search. 
 
PLANTATION LAYS. 
 
 They were told to break their idols 
 
 And bow to ideal God, 
 But 'tis ever human failing 
 
 At abstract things to nod. 
 So very soon the images 
 
 Of Virgin, Christ and saint 
 AVere crowding Christian churches. 
 
 Bowed to without restraint.'^ 
 And it proved artificial, 
 
 Unnatural and wrong, 
 That blacks should rule the Saxon, 
 
 Through Northern aid too long, — 
 Like angry ape, or Titmouse, 
 
 With his thousands ten a year, 
 While the law of mighty England 
 
 Sustained him in his sphere. 
 The same blood welled in Southrons 
 
 As those Bostonians had 
 Who threw the tea in ocean, 
 
 With Indian guises clad; 
 And left alone, like spring bent. 
 
 They rose with mighty power, 
 And the negro ceased fantastic tricks. 
 
 And helpless 'gan to cower. 
 
 Well, our crowd went on commenting 
 
 Where Whitmire was to-night, 
 ''He promised to come, at tea-time," 
 
 Said one whose face was white ; 
 '' His family's in New England, 
 
 We others, with one design, 
 Left his house to-night for the meeting, 
 
 While he lingered to write a line." 
 
PLANTATION LAYS. 
 
 Through fields of corn and cotton, 
 
 And — such the times — broomsedge, 
 The thoroughfare ran ere touching 
 
 The lawn's extended edge. 
 Then half a mile, the portal 
 
 At last before them stood 
 Where the mob on Berkeley's lady 
 
 Had wrought their work so good. 
 — I feel some disi)osition 
 
 Just here to paint the place, 
 For it was truly lovely, 
 
 And well deserves the space. 
 The people from a distance 
 
 Who travel in the South, 
 When we boast of former splendor. 
 
 Think we merely wish to mouth. 
 Our old ancestral homesteads 
 
 Are ne'er from railway seen. 
 But only swamps and pinelands. 
 
 Poor fields and buildings mean. 
 The old-time planters, fearing 
 
 Near growth of noisy town, 
 And owning horse and equipage 
 
 To ride to depots down. 
 Objected to surveyors 
 
 Running upon them close. 
 So that a line of railroad 
 
 E'er'd the poorest land engross. 
 But in each rural District 
 
 Some two or three estates 
 Were ever found, whose splendor 
 
 No pen e.xaggerates. 
 The balance of the County 
 
23 PLANTATION LAYS. 
 
 Might stunted be and poor, 
 And unto every gentleman 
 
 Full many a slave and boor, 
 But that is simply stating 
 
 We did the North precede : 
 Our planters to your Vanderbilts 
 
 Had seemed in direst need ! 
 I've strolled along Fifth Avenue, 
 
 Where fifty millionaires dwell. 
 Whose wealth the other million 
 
 New Yorkers' will excel. 
 And so with every country 
 
 That lies in human ken, 
 In England half the realty 
 
 Belongs to a hundred men. 
 A very few are happy, 
 
 A very few are rich ; 
 But most of poor humanity 
 
 Is slaving in the ditch. 
 The strongest force in physics 
 
 Is found to be evolved 
 When the greatest heap of matter 
 
 Is consumed, and thus resolved. 
 So perhaps in mortal matters, 
 
 The keenest happiness 
 Is witnessed where our neighbors 
 
 Are put to most distress. 
 Oh ! I have read and pondered 
 
 On each book that Darwin wrote. 
 And over Herbert Spencer 
 
 I once would fairly gloat. 
 And when on Nature gazing 
 
 I own they speak the truth. 
 
PLANTATION LAYS. 
 
 That the strongest are the fittest, 
 
 And give the weakest ruth. 
 That through the boundless universe 
 
 All beings have one aim — 
 Men, insects, beasts and flowers — 
 
 To make each other game. 
 But though their observations 
 
 Have made the churchmen quake. 
 And the orthodox conclusions 
 
 As to Bible-science shake, 
 Though they've shown that nature's battling 
 
 As we all admit who view, 
 Yet is this struggling moral? 
 
 Does only good accrue? 
 I know that beast and savage 
 
 Will extirpate the weak. 
 But is nature's state the model 
 
 For civilized men to seek? 
 If so, then Herbert Spencer 
 
 Should have been impaled at once, 
 He was puny, and most people 
 
 Believed him impious dunce. 
 Closed up should be each hospital. 
 
 Each orphan house, free school, 
 Each means for dealing charity. 
 
 Each move against misrule. 
 Yes, leave mankind to nature, 
 
 Then Might alone is Right, 
 And those will take who have the power. 
 
 Those keep who've strength to fight.' 
 P)Ut all of human history 
 
 Has been a contest hard, 
 Of Right with Might, and Progress 
 
 Trying Nature to discard. 
 
28 PLANTATION LAYS. 
 
 And the foremost men and nations 
 
 Have most of charity, 
 And, unlike the natural savage. 
 
 Guard e'en beasts from tyranny. 
 And whether God or human, 
 
 I know that Jesus Christ 
 Touched civilization's keynote, 
 
 In language apt and spiced, 
 When he said "Do unto others 
 
 As you'd have them do to you," 
 And praised the good Samaritan 
 
 Who saved the wounded Jew. 
 Let Spencer reason, using 
 
 Every favorite thundering word, 
 (Which he's coining e'er, while censuring 
 
 The classics as absurd,) 
 But the pupil of his Ethics 
 
 May lay the book aside, 
 And kill or steal with conscience, 
 
 If his crime he can but hide, 
 Like the people of old Sparta 
 
 Who did not deem it aught 
 Of wrong to go a thieving, 
 
 Unless the thief was caught. 
 Like Offitt the Bread Winner, 
 
 Who felt a better man 
 When he had two men nigh murdered 
 
 In his money getting plan. 
 
 But this makes two digressions, 
 
 A thing I quite abhor; 
 Pray spare: — 't is first I've published 
 
 Unpruned by editor; 
 
PLANTATION LAYS. 29 
 
 I've tried my wings and sported 
 
 Jn most unwonted glee, 
 Because 't is strange sensation 
 
 To feel at last I'm free. 
 Besides I do but co})y 
 
 The modern novel's style, 
 Which stops the tale to moralize 
 
 So oft — 't is sometimes vile. 
 Yet of me've said some critics 
 
 (Not knowing e'en my name,) 
 *'To the gift of closely following 
 
 His theme he has some claim." 
 Thanks; henceforth right I'll prove you, 
 
 Or try; so let's retrace 
 Our steps, and join the strollers, 
 
 Who had reached the Berkeley place. 
 The stately portal entered, 
 
 They took the avenue, 
 Which pierced the lawn of oak trees 
 
 And mat of Kentucky blue. 
 This passed, they reached the garden 
 
 Of flowers, 'twixt house and lawn. 
 When whom do they meet in its pathways — 
 
 Like a glorious dream of the dawn ? 
 They stop, and glances mutual 
 
 Exchange, all know her well ; 
 But the maiden onward passes. 
 
 And vanishes like a spell. 
 And they suddenly hear a crying, 
 
 As of some one in despair, 
 Half smothered, in the mansion, 
 
 Where there shines a brilliant glare ! 
 
30 PLANTATION LAYS. 
 
 A surmise— all go rushing 
 
 Up steps, 'cross balcony, 
 Through hall, and down to cellar, 
 
 Whence comes that awful cry. 
 The stair is barricaded, 
 
 With barrels, wood, debris, 
 And the heap is freshly fired. 
 
 But does not yet blaze free. 
 They do not stop or linger, 
 
 But rush to the attack. 
 The flames are soon extinguished. 
 
 But leave their mark of black. 
 Then the cellar quick is opened. 
 
 And gasping in his fright 
 They find their leader 'prisoned. 
 
 Who had missed the tryst to-night ! 
 Ah, he will ne'er forget it ! 
 
 His agony, despair! 
 When the maiden burst upon him. 
 
 And signalled to the stair ; 
 And followed, — tea just over — 
 
 — Her pistol cocked in hand — 
 Till she turned the key upon him, 
 
 No help at his command. 
 The cellar in old era 
 
 Had held its store of wine; 
 But under its new owner 
 
 Had a very changed design. 
 He was militia-Colonel, 
 
 And for their armory 
 His cellar had been chosen, 
 As if by destiny. 
 
PLANTATION LAYS. 31 
 
 And in it thcMi was ciuartcred 
 
 A store of uniforms, 
 Of rifles, bayonets, powder, 
 
 And cartridges in swarms. 
 And if that fire had lasted, 
 
 And burnt the Oaks to ground. 
 The explosion, like an earthquake, 
 
 Would have shaken the counties round. 
 She ha(i seen by the straggling troopers 
 
 Her mother's life o'erthrown ; 
 She knew their evil leader 
 
 Had made tlie Oaks his own. 
 She had heard the talk (in silence) 
 
 Of father and his friends. 
 When the new possessor altered 
 
 The old wine cellar's ends. 
 And she had watched the wagons, 
 
 Wliich, with militia throng, 
 And heaped with their equipments. 
 
 Passed to the Oaks along. 
 And she pointed to them, saying. 
 
 As she marched him in to-night: 
 "Your weapons killed my mother 
 
 But their owner now shall smite 1 " 
 She caged him with no exit. 
 
 And built a barricade 
 As for funeral pile, he trembled, 
 
 And vainly mercy prayed; 
 No word she ever uttered. 
 
 But when her task was done 
 She sat outside, in vigil. 
 
 Till half the night was run. 
 Then she struck a match, he heard it, 
 
PLANTATION LAYS. 
 
 He screamed to her, to God, 
 Till he lost his breath, and his heart beat 
 In his breast like a thrasher's rod. 
 
 Of course there was sensation. 
 
 Both very deep and wide, 
 When Allie's act was published, 
 
 As usual magnified. 
 The Stalwart press devoted 
 
 Some columns each per day, 
 To showing how rebellion 
 
 Again was in array. 
 And a motion passed the Senate 
 
 (See the Journal of that date). 
 At once t' appoint Committee 
 
 To go, and investigate ; 
 With power to send for persons, 
 
 And papers, and to sit 
 In any distant city. 
 
 If the Oaks would not permit. 
 To the Probate Judge went Whitmire, 
 
 Intent to crush his foe, 
 And to the State Asylum 
 
 He swore that she should go. 
 The papers de lunatico 
 
 Are very quickly filed ; 
 A day's set for the hearing, — 
 
 Her father's grief is wild. 
 And wild, too, is her lover. 
 
 Young Willie, who has clung 
 Through all to her since childhood; 
 
 And Chloe, too, is stung. 
 
PLANTATION LAYS. .33 
 
 They importune their foeman, 
 
 He swears to have no check ; 
 All the State and Union army 
 
 Are at his call and beck. 
 And ere the time appointed 
 
 Full many a sleepless night 
 These faithful three pass weeping 
 
 And praying in their plight. 
 But every thing was hopeless, 
 
 The prison seemed her lot, 
 And there was naught could save her 
 
 From the deep and thickening plot ! 
 
 Your captors e'en now: are assembling. 
 
 To tear thee from all that was thine. 
 And I feel that your fingers are trembling, 
 
 As I madly encase them in mine. 
 Ah ! this of all yet is the hardest. 
 
 And evils past number have thronged ; 
 To part us, to take thee, my darling, 
 
 Indeed, 't is the worst they have wronged. 
 
 You would linger all day by the curtain ; 
 
 To strangers you seldom gave heed ; 
 Yet one step to rouse you was certain. 
 
 And you heard it when service e'er freed. 
 For you blushed and were silent with worship, 
 
 As I drew up my chair to your side, 
 And toyed with your ringlets, caressed you, 
 
 And called you my AUie, my bride. 
 
 But all my fond visions are blighted. 
 
 That reason will never return ; 
 They bear you from those who delighted 
 
 To tend you, to those who will spurn. 
 Yet nay ! I know well that e'en strangers 
 
 Will start when they gaze on your face, 
 And wait on you constant and tender ; 
 
 15ut the home-life they cannot replace. 
 
34 PLANTATION LAYS. 
 
 And can it be that you will miss me, 
 
 As you pine in your cheerless brick cell ? 
 If we e'er meet again will you kiss me, 
 
 And know him who loved you so well ? 
 Yes ! absence ne'er conquers true passion ; 
 
 My heart will go with you afar. 
 And yours will stay with me, my darling, 
 
 Though they part us by distance and bar. 
 
 And we itjill meet ! ill lasts not forever ! 
 
 A just God's in heaven above ; 
 And I feel that He'll suffer it never, 
 
 Such hate e'er to smother His love. 
 The spoiler shall yet meet with vengeance. 
 
 The bondsman he chastened for pride ; 
 And your reason shall come with the tide-turn. 
 
 And then I shall call you my bride ! 
 
 Ah ! shame to you, shame to you ! 
 
 Who would have believed 
 You'd e'er be so cruel 
 
 To those you'd aggrieved ? 
 You slaughtered their kinsmen. 
 
 You conquered their band. 
 You turned free their bondsmen, 
 
 And stole all their land. 
 
 You drove them from homestead. 
 
 The mother you crushed. 
 The daughter you maddened, 
 
 At nothing you blushed. 
 And now when the maiden 
 
 Does what she knows not. 
 She's dragged from her loved ones 
 
 — The prison her lot. 
 
 Ah, this is not justice ! 
 
 —My brothers just freed. 
 Will you back up the alien, 
 
 E'en in his worst deed? 
 Oh, no ! as God liveth 
 
 You should not do this ; 
 Ah ! have you forgotten 
 
 Your kindly old Miss ? 
 
•LAXTATIOX LAYS. 
 
 She came to the cabins 
 
 To visit the sick, 
 The girls for weddings 
 
 She ever would trick. 
 If a slave, in her presence. 
 
 Was doomed to the lash. 
 She'd beg for and save him, 
 
 With cheek like the ash. 
 
 But ah ! the good lady. 
 
 Is laid in the grave 1 
 The soft heart was broken. 
 
 That pitied the slave ! 
 And now her poor daughter. 
 
 Of reason bereft, 
 Is all that old Chloe 
 
 Can claim to have lefc. 
 
 For I nursed her dear mother, 
 
 And then I nursed her; 
 And I'll cling to the poor child. 
 
 Though all men deter! 
 Alas ! she now needs me 
 
 Far more than at first ; 
 And if you should part us. 
 
 Your deed is accurst. 
 
 Well, over i.s the trial, 
 
 Where mighty crowd was seen. 
 Of course there was no contest, 
 
 No plea to intervene. 
 Her friends ask simj)!)' mercy, 
 
 But sternly are refused. 
 Though promising her freedom 
 
 Shall be ne'er again abused. 
 The mad-house is her sentence, 
 
 The judge adjourns the court, 
 A deadly silence follows, — 
 
 Man ask if this be sport? 
 
36 PLANTATION LAYS. 
 
 Then such a storm arises 
 
 As seldom gathers head, 
 For hundreds swore they'd guard her 
 
 Until their blood ran red. 
 They snatched her ere the sheriff 
 
 Took charge, and marched away, 
 A colored J>c?sse followed 
 
 With very short delay; 
 Then the wildest scene of riot 
 
 Was witnessed in the town, 
 But when Saxon meets the negro. 
 
 The negro's quickly down. 
 In less than thirty minutes. 
 
 No colored man was seen. 
 Save two or three who lingered, 
 
 Stretched out upon the green. 
 And what became of Whitmire 
 
 No man exactly knew, 
 He disappeared like magic, — 
 
 To far off city flew. 
 
 That night a mystic column 
 
 Filed o'er the chiefest road, 
 On horses clothed with housings. 
 
 That to their ankles flowed. 
 Each rider too was hooded. 
 
 Each wore a gown and mask. 
 And each was strapped with weapons. 
 
 Ready for deadly task. 
 They steadfast onward traveled. 
 
 The negro quaked and feared, 
 Who saw that ghastly cavalcade, 
 
 As from his hut he peered. 
 
PLANTATION LAYS. 37 
 
 But no one they molested, 
 
 That night ; they traveled on 
 Till the first faint streaks of morning 
 
 Showed gloom was nearly gone. 
 Then the mystic column faded, 
 
 With night, as sun uprose, 
 And the news spread through the county 
 
 They had saved her from her foes. 
 To distant State they bore her, 
 
 For years none knew the place, 
 Because all through the country 
 
 Dwelt Berkeley's kin and race. 
 And she was gently cared for 
 
 Away from olden scenes, 
 And Whitmire never found her. 
 
 Though he freely lavished means. 
 Her father at his cottage 
 
 Dwelt on in quiet gloom, 
 While Chloe went with AUie, 
 
 To share her every doom. 
 I don't approve of Ku Klux, 
 
 Nor Nihilistic plan. 
 My blood is mainly English, — 
 
 Likes the fairly fighting man. 
 But I have seen oppression 
 
 So cruel, absolute, 
 I glow to hear of vengeance, 
 
 Though philosophy dispute. 
 And x\llie, years thereafter, 
 
 When mind again was clear, 
 Would ever detest the cruel, 
 
 And the ones who domineer; 
 
38 PLANTATION LAYS. 
 
 She was not consistent always, 
 
 — (Perhaps her reason still, 
 On the subject of a tyrant 
 
 Will always serve her ill.) 
 And though it seems strange fountain 
 
 From which to hear such creed, — 
 A Southern planter's daughter, 
 
 Not of the Commune breed, — 
 Yet I have heard her urging 
 
 That when oppressors smite. 
 It is right to make resistance, 
 
 ''E'en," she'll sing, "with dynamite! 
 
 ''Oh ! take the awful tyrant 
 
 Whom the Russians call the Czar, 
 With his knout, police and army 
 
 And Siberian mines afar; 
 And take the wailing people, 
 
 Ever cowering in affright, — 
 And can you blame them turning 
 
 In despair to dynamite? 
 
 "Ah ! all the world was startled, 
 
 When it heard his father's fate; 
 But a Avife he had discarded. 
 
 For a mistress kept in state ; 
 And to squander on her millions 
 
 Taxed a thousand homes to blight — 
 Oh think of this, and wonder 
 
 Why they threw the dynamite ! 
 
TLA STATION' LAVS. 39 
 
 "What does the Czar with jewels, 
 
 When myriads are in need? 
 Why rules be sixty million 
 
 Purer men, of kindred breed? 
 Will he let them meet and organize 
 
 To give him equal fight? 
 — Oh, no ! he strikes unfairly, 
 
 So they take to dynamite. 
 
 "Think on the Irish landlord — 
 
 Whose fathers robbed the land 
 From the father of his tenants, 
 
 Whose rights on bayonets stand. 
 A thousand squalid renters 
 
 Their little means unite 
 To buy him London's fatness, — 
 
 Till they rush to dynamite. 
 
 •'O despots, tremble everywhere. 
 
 Your doom is knelling now ! 
 For men have cool and stern resolved 
 
 No more to you to bow. 
 We will obey no ruler, 
 
 Save to choose we have the right; 
 And if he tries the hand of mail. 
 
 We'll fight with dynamite! 
 
 "We hail the name of Brutus! 
 
 We hail the name of Tell ! 
 And own with bow and dagger 
 
 They served their tyrants well; 
 lUit a Gessler now, or Caisar, 
 
 Will feel redoubled fright. 
 For the future Tell and Brutus 
 
 Will be armed with dynamite! 
 
40 PLANTATION LAYS. 
 
 ''In many a million hovel, 
 
 Or ghastly tenement, 
 Are a billion creatures starving, — 
 
 Though their lives are slaving spent. 
 Yet a Gould to cut their wages 
 
 E'er is watching like a kite, 
 And the public's damned by Vanderbilt, 
 
 — Despite their dynamite. 
 
 ''Oh ! Jesus tells the story 
 
 Of the good Samaritan, 
 Who, while the others passed aside. 
 
 Gave help to dying man. 
 So while around our firesides, 
 
 Where wealth and cheer delight. 
 Let's spare for human suffering, 
 
 — It may banish dynamite." 
 
 Our story takes a recess 
 
 Of six or seven years, 
 Ere Allie on the stage again 
 
 And at the Oaks appears. 
 To Whitmire come promotions 
 
 So great, that rural scenes 
 He quits, and seeks Columbia, 
 
 Where harvests- fat he gleans. 
 A mansard roof receives him, 
 
 A fountain plays in front. 
 To sport with steed and landaulet 
 
 Is constantly his wont. 
 He sold the Oaks on moving, 
 
 And Willie's father bought, 
 
PLANTATION LAYS. 41 
 
 The acres half were lessened, 
 • But the house unchanged in aught. 
 'Twas opened warm to Berkeley, 
 
 Who both was far too proud 
 To take of alms, and t' enter 
 
 The Oaks no more had vowed. 
 Will's f^uher had been lucky, 
 
 Some fortune he had saved, 
 And son, and father also. 
 
 Had well their troubles braved. 
 They went to work right nobly 
 
 Like many Southrons, then. 
 And proved not mere patricians. 
 
 But self supporting men. 
 (Oh, Northern people, watch it! 
 
 The coming Southern race, 
 In arts and money-making, 
 
 Are going to give you chase ! 
 'Twas sternest of necessity 
 
 That forced them to the plow, 
 But of himself each Southerner 
 
 Can take the best care now. 
 Some of the olden manners 
 
 Could not sustain the fight. 
 And, moping, brooding, drinking. 
 
 Soon sank from public sight. 
 But now no work's degrading, — 
 
 Too many of the ton 
 Are plowing, clerking, teaching, — 
 
 All sneer at idle Don. 
 I now think slavery error; 
 
 AUhou'di tlie North must own 
 
42 PLANTATION LAYS. 
 
 'Tis hardly found entitled 
 
 First at us to've thrown the stone. 
 You, too, had slaves once; tenements 
 
 Our negro quarters beat, 
 The master kept the aged — 
 
 Where's your laborer's retreat? 
 And, as usual with an evil. 
 
 It had its side of good, — 
 Half civilized the Afric 
 
 Brought to our neighborhood. 
 But the old Plantation era 
 
 Is passed fore'er away, 
 And I rejoice that slavery 
 
 Has seen its final day. 
 I see the State improving 
 
 In numbers now and wealth. 
 So wondrously, I own it: 
 
 "Our old life was not health!" 
 Our land is filled with engines, 
 
 With factories and mines; 
 And Progress, the iconoclast. 
 
 Is breaking olden slirines. 
 There's no one now can tarry. 
 
 No time is there for play. 
 For Satan takes the hindmost. 
 
 And the smartest wins the day.) 
 
 'Twas — 76, and Hampton 
 
 His famous circuit rode. 
 And all the State with tumult 
 
 From hills to sea o'erflowed. 
 And when the hot election 
 
 Results in contest, doubt. 
 
PLANTATION LAYS. ^55 
 
 And Union bayonets grimly 
 
 Keei) Hami)ton's party out; 
 But all the signs are pointing 
 
 To his success at last, — 
 Then Berkeley brings back AUie, 
 
 Regardless of the past. 
 And Chloe, old and feeble, 
 
 With her returns at length; 
 Still madness clings t-o Allie, 
 
 Though scarce with former strength. 
 She had been melancholy 
 
 And silent when away, 
 But remembered Berkeley's cottage, 
 
 As if not gone a day. 
 She showed some little gladness, 
 
 Then took her window seat, 
 And at the Oaks intently 
 
 She gazed with olden heat. 
 She warmly greeted Willie, 
 
 Her father, too, she knew, 
 But of her ancient neighbors 
 
 Remembered very few. 
 A week or two passed over. 
 
 Then words and posture showed 
 A strange hallucination 
 
 Within her forehead glowed. 
 She seemed like one expectant, 
 
 And ever waiting now, 
 And not with brooding sadness 
 
 As formerly to bow. 
 While now and then she'd murmur. 
 
 As if in self amaze, 
 
PLANTATION LAYS. 
 
 "I thoiiglu I would Ikivc licard it 
 
 Long since, or seen the blaze." 
 And if she chanced to notice 
 
 One moving toward the Oaks, 
 To liim she beckons warnings 
 
 And not to go invokes. 
 She evidently fancied 
 
 Her prisoner still secure, 
 And the debris still burning. 
 
 The loud explosion sure! 
 The doctors gave o})inion, 
 
 A crisis was at hand. 
 When mania would forsake her. 
 
 Or turn to stronger brand. 
 Quite urgent were their cautions 
 
 To guard from every chance 
 Of sudden, strong excitement. 
 
 Which might th' event advance. 
 
 The papers meanwhile daily 
 
 Were filling every page 
 With burnings, stealings, shootings, 
 
 Such was the races' rage. 
 And all throughout the county. 
 
 Both main and private road. 
 Each night with red-clad horsemen. 
 
 Patrolling, overflowed ; 
 And e'en the court house village 
 
 Was guarded, too, till day. 
 Yet many a conflagration 
 
 Still shone with reddening ray. 
 One night while dragged the contest 
 
 Her lover spent the eve 
 
PLANTATION LAYS. 45 
 
 With AUie till his column 
 
 Should pass, when he must leave. 
 Quite mournful his reflections, 
 
 As he sat her hand in grasp ; 
 '•'Oh ! is there naught can save her. 
 
 And snatch from madness' grasp? 
 So young as yet, so lovely. 
 
 She stirs like music's self; 
 To cure her I would squander. 
 
 If mine, the wide world's pelf. 
 She wakes in me emotions 
 
 No other's sight can rouse, 
 My breast will e'er be vacant 
 
 If heaven our parting allows. 
 For my heart has been torn from my bosom. 
 
 And placed on her tender shrine, 
 God grant that her reason, like sunshine. 
 
 May break forth — and then she'll be mine.'' 
 But his comrades call, he leaveth. 
 
 While, with the weird look of a seer. 
 She says, "Good-night, 't is coming, 
 
 Revenge at last is near." 
 
 The column on their mission 
 
 Adown the road deploy. 
 And watch till all aweary 
 
 Their relief is hailed with joy. 
 As they repass the cottage. 
 
 They see by the light within 
 That Allie is still at the window. 
 
 And she starts at their passing din, 
 And open throws the sashes. 
 
 And utters loud the cry : 
 
PLANTATION LAYS. 
 
 "Al)l)r()ach not ! it is coming ! 
 
 Revenge's sweet hour is nigli I" 
 Then she j)oints to the old mansion, 
 
 Where all the horsemen stare, 
 And they start and cry of sudden, 
 
 For there shines a brilliant glare ! 
 A streak of fire is stealing 
 
 And creeping up the house, 
 They gallop wildly to it, 
 
 And the sleejjing inmates rouse. 
 The Oaks burns fast, — no buckets — 
 
 The reservoir on top 
 Has lop.g been idle ornament, 
 
 About to pieces drop. 
 The match of negro prowlers 
 
 Had done its tatal work; — 
 They haunted bush and thicket 
 
 Would in your outgrounds lurk ; 
 They'd dodge the patrol; watch-dogs 
 
 They'd hush with poisoned meat, 
 Then break, steal, fire, or outrage. 
 
 With Indian's noiseless feet. — 
 From all attempts to extinguish 
 
 They very soon withdrew, 
 And fell to moving furniture, 
 
 *Twas all that they could do. 
 Among the things they rescued 
 
 Was the famous cellar's store; 
 You'll feel surprised, as armory 
 
 To hear 't was used once more. 
 The Rifle Club would gather 
 
 At the Oaks as central place; 
 Of weapons, i)owder, cartridges 
 
 Was stored there many a case. 
 
PLANTATION LAYS. 47 
 
 From wood-heap in piazza 
 
 The fire sprang, 't was found; 
 It traversed side and roofing, 
 
 Ere inside or to ground. 
 So all the cellar's contents, 
 
 And those of parlor, room, 
 They save before the dwelling 
 
 Is half of flames a tomb. 
 Then sadly from the garden 
 
 They look upon the blaze, 
 When sudden a mournful object 
 
 Attracts their wondering- gaze. 
 'Twas the maddened maiden dancing, 
 
 Not far adown the lawn, — 
 Spread to breeze her tresses — 
 
 As lovely as a fawn. 
 x\nd presently notes of music, 
 
 As sweet as a dying bird's. 
 Trilled from her lips of ruby, — 
 
 Though wild the stirring words: 
 
 " " O tramp not on the serpent, 
 
 Or his venomous tooth will strike ; 
 And kick not the sickened lion, 
 
 For strength may revive vk'ith dislike. 
 Throw down what you spurn with a caution. 
 
 For often there cometh recoil ; 
 Be careful to stand from the building. 
 
 Your hands would tear down and despoil. 
 
 ■' You have trampled on the serpent. 
 
 And the weakened lion struck, 
 You have thrown us to earth with our fortunes, 
 
 — You have sipped the sweet chalice of luck ! 
 Rut a bell in the distance is ringing. 
 
 And there flaps at your window a wing, 
 The dread form of vengeance is crouching. 
 
 And nothing will save from his spring !" 
 
PLANTATION LAYS. 
 
 Iler lover tried to (aim her, 
 But wilder fast she grew, 
 And when the flames high-mounted, 
 
 Out from the lawn she flew; 
 She beckoned all to follow, 
 
 And cried : *' 'Tis here at last. 
 Flee far from the fated mansion, 
 
 In time to escape from the blast." 
 To all it was aj^parent 
 
 She thought her. olden foe 
 Was still within the cellar, 
 
 Where she fastened him long ago; 
 And she was madly certain 
 
 The house with mighty noise 
 Would soon blow up, and kill him, 
 
 So at the gate she joys. 
 Then sudden, like the lightning, 
 
 Flashed a thought on Willie's brain, 
 And he hastens to call the gazers, 
 
 And his lucky device explain. 
 He had heard, he said, that one's reason 
 
 Is often awakened, when lost, 
 By the sudden seeing or meeting with things 
 
 Whi( h your path in old time had crossed. 
 And if sudden and strong emotion 
 
 From its place first shook the mind, 
 If reshaken bf passion severe as the first, 
 
 'Twill again to its place be consigned. 
 So he seized a keg of powder, 
 
 And wrapped it thic k around 
 With several blankets, wetted, 
 
 Whic h lying round he found. 
 No words will stop, he warns them 
 
 To leave the dangerous jjlace; 
 
PLANTATION LAYS. 49 
 
 They go, and he waiteth patient, 
 
 Till he sees them off some space. 
 Then shouldering keg, he chargeth, 
 
 Mounts flaming porch, and throws 
 His burden far in the hall way 
 
 Where yet no fire glows. 
 Then off he springs and races. 
 
 As never he raced before, 
 Half charred with lapping flame-tongues, 
 
 And deafened by their roar. 
 He rushes down the avenue. 
 
 But stops when half the way, 
 And behind an ancient oak tree 
 
 He crouches, — and well he may; 
 There comes a sound terrific, 
 
 And volcanic, meteor flash. 
 And the grand old Berkeley mansion 
 
 Hath met its final crash. 
 The fragments, like vast rockets. 
 
 Rise to heaven and fall again, 
 And the fearful boom and its echoes 
 
 Shake the country, and rouse all men. 
 And then the gleam of madness 
 
 Shone fierce in the maiden's eye. 
 And she wildly danced by the flaming 
 
 That reddened the midnight sky: 
 
 " Oh do not press the Russian, 
 
 Or he burns his proudest town ! 
 
 O do not goad a Samson, 
 
 Or he teareth the temple down ! 
 
 " You have goaded the blinded Samson, 
 And the fleeing Russian pressed, 
 
 And song and legend forever 
 
 Their vengeance will attest." 
 
so PLANTATION LAVS. 
 
 They lead her away to the cottage, 
 
 She laughs and sings as she goes ; 
 Her mania, alas! seems strengthened, 
 
 And all through the night it grows. 
 She does not rise in the morning, 
 
 A crimson fever hums; 
 She lies long weeks, and raveth, 
 
 But at last the illness turns; 
 And she lies there quiet and teeble, 
 
 And pale, her sweet eyes closed ; 
 Long time she lay there silent, 
 
 But she wakened at length composed '. 
 Round the strange room looked she wondering, 
 
 And then for her mother called, — 
 Ah, bitter at first the waking, 
 
 But madness was disenthralled ! 
 Her Willie was her savior, 
 
 By his perilous wild design. 
 And his splendid hero's promptness, 
 
 When there was no time to refine. 
 The delusion all absorbing 
 
 That held her brain in throe 
 Was by th' explosion gratified, — 
 
 And then it had to go. 
 
 This almost ends my story ; — 
 About a year was i)asse(l 
 
 Ere Will and Allie wedded. 
 But it came about at last. 
 
 It happened at the cai)ital 
 
 Where both their fathers dwell. 
 
PLANTATION LAYS. 51 
 
 And hold again high office 
 
 Since black dominion fell. 
 Old Chloe waited on her, 
 
 And tottered in delight, 
 ''She had decked old Miss at her wedding, 
 
 And why not Miss Allie to-night?" 
 As Willie's marriage present, 
 
 His father gave the Oaks, 
 Insurers had rebuilt it 
 
 Ere had cleared away its smokes. 
 And Allie in the church yard — 
 
 Sought ought the earliest day — 
 Cried much (not all in sorrow^. 
 
 Upon her first survey. 
 A tall but broken column 
 
 Of frosted marble is there. 
 And carved her mother's name and this: 
 
 "How long, O Lord?" appear. 
 And in a gloomy dungeon, 
 
 Within the prison of State, 
 A familiar form was lying. 
 
 While the wedding guests were elate. 
 It was the carpet-bagger 
 
 Whom Allie would once have slain, 
 At last to justice accounting 
 
 For the larcenous crimes of his reign. 
 But very joyful Whitmire 
 
 When his eyes with the sun were unclosed, 
 For they brought him the Governor's pardon, 
 
 — But terms were there imposed : 
 ''You're pardoned, he7- prayer hath saved you. 
 
 But this I must ordain. 
 
TLANTATIUN LAVS. 
 
 'I'hat you '^o from the State where you ghitted your 
 hate, 
 
 And never ( onie bac k again." 
 And working on a railway, 
 
 In after years, a gang 
 Were seen of dusky convicts, 
 
 'Twas l)etter far to hang ! 
 (Alas ! if ever torture 
 
 That passeth human speech, 
 Cirinds soul and mind to lorutishness, 
 
 And frame past cure of leech. 
 Was ever seen 'mong prisoners, — 
 
 E'en on the galley bench — 
 'Tis where the leasing system 
 
 Emits its putrid stench. 
 Ah : blot it out forever I 
 
 — Take not my single word, 
 Pjut let the voice of Cable 
 
 And all the world be heard ! 
 But I've seen to censure prisons 
 
 All through this mighty land,— 
 State, county, Northern, Southern, 
 
 In shameful plight they stand ; 
 They're freezing in the winter. 
 
 In summer are Black Holes, 
 With vermin, filth, poor feeding, — 
 
 While jailor-l)rute controls. 
 More service get the clients 
 
 Whom I see in jail confined, 
 Than those on bail, — my pity 
 
 Rouses all my soul and mind. 
 We justly may imj)rison. 
 
 But not torture at the stake. 
 
PLANTATION LAYS. 53 
 
 O shade of Howard warn us, 
 
 O politicians wake ! 
 Grand-juries, ever shallow, 
 
 Presentments cease to file 
 Praising the jail's good order ! 
 
 — Report the system vile !/'' 
 Among them those whose torches 
 
 Had fired the mansion last. 
 That night when AUie, dancing, 
 
 x\t last heard the terrible blast; 
 These too were given freedom. 
 
 Will's plea their pardon won, — 
 He owned that by their arson 
 
 Was Allie's cure begun. 
 And after a due conviction. 
 
 And a year or two of pain. 
 Knowing their evil counsels, 
 
 He saved them from the bane. 
 Then, too, it pleased his Allie, 
 
 Who, sane, is ever crossed 
 With pain, if any enemy 
 
 In revenge is put to cost. ^ 
 
 She is ever kind and tender 
 
 To every thing that's frail. 
 Will weep if hound is bleeding,^ 
 
 And e'er start at human wail. 
 And sometimes she composes 
 
 A verse or plaintive song. 
 Which always counsels pity 
 
 When the weak offend the strong. 
 
 Oh stop ! think as above me 
 You stand to strike the blow, 
 
 That I've had few to love me. 
 And much to undergo. 
 
PLANTATION LAVS. 
 
 For fortune never brightly 
 
 Shone on my pathway lone. 
 No food by day, and nightly 
 
 My head upon the stone ! 
 And it was far more mournful 
 
 Beneath the load to bend. 
 Because the world was scornful. 
 
 And quick to reprehend. 
 
 then, how can you wonder 
 That I should bitter be, 
 
 That I should slay and plunder 
 To 'scape from misery ? 
 
 1 will not say 'tis rightful 
 
 To stain your hands with crime, 
 But poverty is frightful, 
 
 Endurance is sublime! 
 And think if I have deeply 
 
 My hands in sin imbued, 
 The world might once so cheaply 
 
 Have saved what has ensued. 
 Vou'd own if you had sadly 
 
 Been forced my life to live, 
 You must have done as badly ; 
 
 Then can you not forgive? 
 O I would mind it scarcely 
 
 With even death to meet, 
 Since fate has served so fiercely, 
 
 Yet spare me— life is sweet. 
 
PLANTATION LAYS. 55 
 
 THE OLD DRIVER'S LfiMENT, 
 
 I used to sound the mornin' horn to call the darkies up, 
 
 For to get their breakfasts, ere the daylight broke. 
 Because I was the driver then, and had an easy time, 
 
 For I made the others work and feel the stroke. 
 But now Fm old and has to work, my chilluns all are 'way. 
 
 And old Massa and his folks are dead, or poor; 
 I rings the white folks' church-bell, and I farms the quar- 
 ter field. 
 
 And my freedom's brought me little good, Fm sure. 
 
 Of all the quarters in the land this was the biggest one. 
 
 But my lonely house is all that's left to stay; 
 The colored folks have gone to live within the new Free- 
 Town, 
 And they've bought their huts and moved them far 
 away. 
 The street and land on which the cabins once was 'rected 
 thick 
 And the gardings, too, are now within the field. 
 And those dark, tall spots of cotton where the houses 
 used to stand. 
 By these alone the past is now revealed. 
 
 The well has vanished, too, the pole and beam have rotted 
 down. 
 And the hollow tree-curb long ago caved in; 
 I gets my water now from out the spring just in the woods, 
 
 For my young gran-chile can tote it far — and spin; 
 And her wheel-buzz whistles 'cross the field and makes a 
 mournful noise. 
 For I used to hear a dozen at a time ; 
 
f)3 ri.AN lAIIoN I. A VS. 
 
 And there's now no guineas cacklia' loud, and nightfall 
 hears no more 
 Of calling up the hogs the niclhjw ( iiime. 
 
 The ole mule gin and packin' screw you cannot see no more, 
 
 For they keeps a press and toll-gin in the town, 
 And the barn and stables too are gone, excei>' the fodder crib. 
 
 And the fodder crib is fast atumblin' down. 
 The overseer's house is burnt and mine's a-gettin' ole. 
 
 And rickety and shaky, like myself, 
 For the chimbly bricks are loose on top, the mouldin' roof 
 it leaks, 
 
 And nearly down's the steps and water shelf. 
 
 CHORUS. 
 
 I dunno how to get along, I was not raised to this, 
 For slavin where I once had full command ; 
 
 My ole woman's gone before me, and I soon will follow her. 
 For my head's a-whitening for the other land. 
 
 POOR BOSS. 
 
 Poor boss is lying low to-night, 
 
 He will not see the day ; 
 I've hoped him out in many a fight, 
 
 But now he tells me, "Nay." 
 
 Poor boss is dying ! O I ne'er 
 Believed 't would come to this, — 
 
 To die within the cabin here. 
 
 When the big house once was his. 
 
PLANTATION LAYS. 57 
 
 Poor boss is lonely, — all are 'way, 
 
 Old Missis is no more ; 
 Young Missy's teachin' off for pay, 
 
 Young Massa's in the store. 
 
 Poor boss ! your birthday gift was me ! 
 
 They raised me by your side ; 
 And when I heard that I was free, 
 
 I said with you I'd bide. 
 
 And true I've been, poor boss, to you, 
 Though gone the rich old time ; 
 
 And I hope we'll soon be joined anew 
 Within the heavenly clime. 
 
 THE CHARLESTON FSIRY. 
 
 I've seen and read of many a maid 
 
 Whose face and form were lovely, airy; 
 But all their beauties pale and fade 
 
 Before the Charleston King Street Fairy ! 
 That olden city is the Troy 
 
 Or Saragossa of the nation. 
 But her women make her chiefest joy, 
 
 And give her widest reputation. 
 
 I love her breezy Battery, 
 
 With glorious relics seaward looming; 
 Each house with latticed balcony 
 
 And orange gardens around it blooming; 
 I love to hear the ancient bells 
 
 In mother's church, St. Michael's, chiming; 
 Most Charleston objects teem with spells, — 
 
 But her girls on King street set me rhyming. 
 
58 PLANTATION LAYS. 
 
 Yet it is not so much tlicir form, 
 
 Nor glory of their Southern beauty, 
 That thrills you hke the wild alarm 
 
 Which sends the fire brigacie to duty. 
 Their looks are rare, and make you stare. 
 
 ihil do not form their chief attraction; 
 It is the soul that's glowing there 
 
 That whirls your blood and pulse to action. 
 
 The Charleston maiden can surpass 
 
 In doing three things all existence: — 
 In raven locks and eyes the lass 
 
 Of Spain leaves others at a distance; 
 The English girl has azure eyes, 
 
 And blooming cheeks, and sunny tresses; 
 New York and Paris ladies prize 
 
 Their jewels, toilets, costly dresses. 
 
 Kentucky shows most si)len(li(l growth 
 
 And size in women, men and horses; 
 Virginian manners, ease — in both. 
 
 The sexes — every one endorses; 
 The Nation's Daisy Miller's known 
 
 For fresh, frank freedom o'er the ocean ; 
 The Creole fair ones stand alone 
 
 For willowy shape and languid motion ; 
 
 The Boston girl has studied most. 
 
 In learning chief dependence places; 
 The Persians and Circassians boast 
 
 Their perfect female forms and faces; — 
 But none like Charleston's maid can 7i'alk^ 
 
 Her dancing makes all rivals wary. 
 And earth has never heard such talk 
 
 As rattles from the King Street Fairy ! 
 
PLANTATION LAYS. 59 
 
 Like twinkling stars her tiny feet 
 
 E'er 'neath her, in and out are popping, 
 And scarcely touch that dear old street 
 
 In evening stroll or morning shopping. 
 Up, down it's length, without a rest, 
 
 Or round the bend, she'll spicy saunter, 
 With kerchief talk, bow, pause to test 
 
 Von Santen's cream, if it enchant her. 
 
 And when you see her in the glide. 
 
 Or any other kind of dancing, 
 There's nothing earthly you decide 
 
 So witching, utterly entrancing. 
 Old poets, watch those mice-like feet 
 
 Which peep and hide, of day-light scary! — 
 Your Julias are completely beat 
 
 And Easter suns by Charleston's Fairy ! 
 
 And conversation's never heard 
 
 On all the globe like Charleston's ladies'. 
 — A form that sculptors worship's blurred. 
 
 Unless possessed of warmth the maid is ! 
 Some girls are dolls; — though beauty's such 
 
 As from his Psyche to tempt Cupid, 
 They Quaker parties make — the Dutch 
 
 Are not themselves one half as stupid. 
 
 In Charleston women Nature pours 
 
 Just twice the life she grants to others, 
 So bubbling talk bursts out in stores 
 
 From girlhood till they're wives and mothers. 
 Each always takes you just aright, 
 
 Her soul divines your every feeling, — 
 Your mood attunes her converse bright 
 
 Or laugh, like silver bell outpealing. 
 
flO i'LAMATlON LAYS. 
 
 Ill otluT places if a man 
 
 liululges in a little smiling, 
 His wife or sweetheart takes the plan 
 
 Of hooking grave, or loud reviling, 
 l^ut Charleston girls will laugh at you, 
 
 And take your antics off to-morrow; 
 And, unrejiroxed, you vow to do 
 
 No drinking that will bring them sorrow. 
 
 But out of all who promenade 
 
 This royal street of Charles's city," 
 There is one rare and matchless maid 
 
 Whose charms excel all bounds of ditty. 
 Among that endless stream of fays, 
 
 Her glancing feet antl rij^ijling laughter 
 Impress you like the meteor's rays, 
 
 Which make the stars seem paler after. 
 
 Oh ! music hushes at her voice. 
 
 But wakens to her waltzing, walking ! 
 Your soul and being leap, rejoice, 
 
 To hear her bright, vivacious talking! 
 Oh ! count me of the Roman Church, 
 
 Though of their doctrines once (juite chary 
 If on their altars they will perch 
 
 The image of this Charleston Mary! 
 
 I know not when she takes her sleep, — 
 
 E'er restless, e'er in animation ; 
 And at her funeral none will weep, — 
 
 She'll never die, to give occasion ! 
 She's angel now! — Oh, my device 
 
 To 'scape from death and regions Stygian, 
 Is : Move at once to Paradise, 
 
 And dwellin Charleston !—\y\^\.''i religion. 
 
PLANTATION LAYS. 61 
 
 SOUTHERN MUNICIPAL ELECTIONS. 
 
 K SATIRE.* 
 
 There was once, on the banks of a Western rivaire, 
 
 A man to be tried as a hog stealaire; 
 
 So he goes to an office and employs a lawyaire, 
 
 Who examines the case, and gives up in despaire. 
 
 For he said: ''Sir, your guilt's so transparent and claire, 
 
 I can't help you, would cheat you to take a.dollaire; 
 
 You had better, my friend, come out on the squaire, 
 
 Plead guilty, 'twill lighten your term by a yaire." 
 
 But the fellow was hopeful, and said : " My dear saire. 
 
 Just fire away, here's your retainaire. 
 
 In regard to your losing, I haven't a faire. 
 
 But if you should chance to, 'tis my own mattaire." 
 
 So the trial came on, and the crime did appaire 
 
 Bythe mouth of each witness who was put up to swaire. 
 
 And the lawyer, though reputed a great orataire. 
 
 Made the lamest defence that was everiieard thaire; 
 
 And the stern old judge, with a terrible glaire. 
 
 Charged the jury : "Find hira guilty," as far as he daire. 
 
 So the jury went out, but in half an houaire. 
 
 They returned him, "Not Guilty," mid a general staire ! 
 
 *Florence friends will from this at last discover the author of an anonymous 
 and untraceable municipal election squib, circulated here five years ago, which 
 created some commotion, and of which copies are yet preserved about town. 
 Many unkindly temporary and personal hits are expunged, in consonance with the 
 sound principles of art and criticism, and a few modifications and readjustments 
 made in consequence. The author has been tempted to publish not a few other 
 local squibs in the same (or different) metres, which he has perpetrated duripg life, 
 but his literary conscience has not only forbidden, but impels him to request any 
 parties holding copies, who may now at last suspect the origin, to consign them to 
 oblivion. 
 
62 PLANTATION LAVS. 
 
 And (jf all the spectators who heard with woiidaire, 
 There was no (jne more astounded than that ftllow's law- 
 
 yaire ! 
 So he called him aside when court rose for dinnaire, 
 And said : '' There is something beneath this affaire 
 That I don't understand, and I hereby declaire 
 I'll return you the money if you'll explain the mattaire." 
 The fellow, as cool as a cucumbaire, 
 Said: "Old cock, it's a bargain, hand back my papaire ; 
 Sir, the secret is this, I stole tJic i^nintairc, 
 But diviJt'ii tJic bacon 701 th the twelve men /aire /' ' 
 
 'Twas the same in New York where they started to raire 
 
 Concerning Boss Tweed and his plunderings thaire. 
 
 He locked up the records, and every vouchaire. 
 
 Through fire and burglar began to disappaire. 
 
 The people held meetings and every papaire 
 
 Was calling for justice; the election was naire, 
 
 So Tweed runs again, and scatters silvaire. 
 
 Knocks the head from a barrel in each barroom thaire. 
 
 Gags and bucks of every board the chief managaire 
 
 To place illegal voters on each poll registaire. 
 
 He saw he was j^laced in a tight cornaire 
 
 And just said to the rabble : "In my spoils you can shaire." 
 
 So he bought thirty thousand, and the ballot box thaire 
 
 Rolled him out a majority that made us all staire. 
 
 So you see that a verdict isn't always faire, 
 Nor elections won with money and with Bumgardnaire. 
 Yet the voice of the peoj)le rang loud and loudaire, 
 Till Tweed left the State House for the Toombs jailaire. 
 But they never would have caught him had he only dwelt 
 
 ha ire. 
 In South Carolina — of some town the mastaire. 
 
PLANTATION LAYS. 63 
 
 For the number of the people is by far smallaire, 
 
 And the problem's much simpler with the nigger votaire. 
 
 Tweed spent half a million in legal tendaire, 
 
 But the voters were white men and not the niggaire ; 
 
 Had he here been some town boss a quart of liquaire 
 
 And a dollar a nigger would have fixed the mattaire. 
 
 And his triumph would have been such a signal affaire 
 
 He'd have treated the population to a big suppaire, 
 
 While his niggers, preceded by the boss managaire, 
 
 Made a torch light procession through the main thorough - 
 
 faire. 
 And as long as these niggers, led by their preachaire, 
 Dictated the nominations and the voting each yaire, 
 Boss Tweed would have reigned till Gabriel's toutaire 
 At last notified him his judgment was naire ! 
 
 Some whites are disgusted, ask : " How shall we faire, 
 If money and whiskey are to rule us each yaire ? 
 We'd submit were we whipped at the ballot box squaire. 
 But they whipped us at the till box and the liquor coun- 
 
 taire. 
 And we see but one way to prevent it next yaire, 
 And that is to drop and count out the niggaire." 
 But these contests are frolics, only come once a yaire 
 To break the monotony, nothing's to seaire; 
 There's far more bribing at elections elsewhaire — 
 At the North and in England 'tis a business affaire. 
 To sit in the Commons to each candidate thaire 
 Costs five thousand sterling, as from books will appaire ; 
 I first, too, felt angry, but now think it should chaire 
 That in town elections we consult the niggaire; 
 We have got him beside us forever to shaire 
 Our good luck or ill, let us make him bettaire. 
 
tt4 PLANTATION LAYS. 
 
 He was not fit to vote or l)e officehoklaire, 
 
 When the Yankees enfranchised and made him mastaire; 
 
 So fantastic his tricks during his brief powaire 
 
 That the an<;els were saddened, shed many a taire. 
 
 But when Hayes had withdrawn every Union soldaire, 
 
 And the nigger was single, he treinl^led with faire ; 
 
 Tlie State was republican two score thousand claire, 
 
 Now the democrats carry it by that and ovaire; 
 
 They've laid aside shot gun and revolvaire. 
 
 And rely on arithmetic and tissue papaire. 
 
 These work quite effectual and save from the faire 
 
 Of rousing the Yankees with a dead niggaire. 
 
 So the blacks are reduced to a mere ciphaire 
 
 In general elections, and things are bettaire. 
 
 The State is improving, both white and niggaire 
 
 Are piling up money in a rapid mannaire ; 
 
 The niggers own land and are treated quite squaire 
 
 As long as in politics they don't interfaire. 
 
 And I scarcely regret it, — a reign of terraire 
 
 Was the era just passed of the carpet baggaire. 
 
 While now to black freedom there's naught of dangaire, 
 
 And time and the free school will mend their charactaire. 
 
 They must creep ere they walk, and I discovaire 
 
 Many tokens of good for their hereaftaire. 
 
 As constables, bailiffs, police, they appaire. 
 
 Quite frequent already, placed by white men thaire. 
 
 To turn democratic is a certain levaire 
 
 For negroes to office of a kind minaire, 
 
 Though in Charleston (and one or two counties elsewhaire") 
 
 The democrats have chosen a black legislataire ! 
 
 In matters municipal no parties appaire. 
 
 And the nigger's allowed a considerable shaire. 
 
PLANTATION LAYS. 65 
 
 So though I'm revolted at the shameless mannaire 
 
 He offers his vote for the mighty doUaire, 
 
 Yet it will be training to both the niggaire 
 
 In voting, and white men to vote with him faire ; 
 
 There both sides bribe niggers, and give them liquaire, 
 
 Split their vote, rely on them, and counting is squaire. 
 
 If the nigger will hear me he'll no longer chaire 
 For ^'de Party," but drop it like a coal of fiaire; 
 Let him turn democratic, that party will taire 
 In fragments the moment there's no fight to faire; 
 Every runner for office will court the niggaire, 
 Protect all his rights — and the pie with him shaire. 
 
 1879. 
 
 R SERENADE, 
 
 'Tis a lovely Southern midnight, 
 
 In the glowing summer time ; 
 He stands in the beautiful garden. 
 
 Where the vines to her window climb. 
 
 No clouds, nor mist, and the heavens 
 Are a blue ground, studded with gold. 
 
 And the silvery beams of the moonlight 
 Streak the tree-shades downward rolled. 
 
 The scent of the rich magnolia 
 Is abroad on the cool, moist air, 
 
 And the dark green hedges and foliage 
 Seem sculpturing, massy and rare. 
 
m rLA'NTATlON LAVS. 
 
 And tlie soft, sweet strains of his iiuisic 
 Rouse her up, as she dreamily sleeps, 
 
 She lifteth her head for a moment, 
 Aiul then to llie wintlow she tree[)s ; 
 
 And wlien, for an instant, he pauses, 
 A rustling is heart! from above, — 
 
 And he hastily picks up the flowers. 
 And kisses his hand to his love I 
 
 TWO FATES, 
 
 Her form was as delicate, melting, — 
 With beauty, deep, glowing and ric h, — 
 
 As the statues in echoing galleries, 
 Each gracefully set in its niche. 
 
 Her complexion was white as the marble, 
 Her features so mobile with thought 
 
 That passion shone on them like lightning. 
 Once seen she was never forgot. 
 
 She would pensively bend o'er the needle. 
 
 Or do other service as light; 
 Or wait at her young mistress' toilet. 
 
 And sleej) on her tloor in the night. 
 
 With the swarthy ones round her slie mingled. 
 With the scorn of a militant race. 
 
 Yet you saw her move round the old mansion, 
 A\'iih sadness impressed on her face. 
 
PLANTATIOxV LAYS. 6: 
 
 For oft from her mistress in passion, 
 
 "You forget whom you are!" came the cry, 
 
 And the red -blood would mount to her forehead, 
 And the hot tear would start in her eye. 
 
 From beneath the magnificent lashes 
 
 That shaded the fiery beam, — 
 Then her face in her hands she would bury. 
 
 While passion burst forth in a stream. 
 
 For oh ! this most delicate maiden, 
 
 With the tresses that fall to the ground, 
 
 Is a slave ! and the slightest of taints in the blood 
 Is a curse that can ne'er be effaced. 
 
 — It is whispered that from the plantation 
 
 The trader once bore far away 
 A quadroon slave mother forever, 
 
 Though she prayed with her child to stay. 
 
 But this child by that mistress was pitied, 
 Whose hate sent the mother to roam. 
 
 She was kept as the young lady's playmate, 
 Aiid to tend on the beautiful home. 
 
 And these maidens, the playmate and mistress. 
 Have the tale ever kept from their reach 
 
 That the mansion's imperious owner 
 Could well be styled father by each ; 
 
 So the one as her parent may hail him, 
 And be honored and worshipped of all, 
 
 While the other must call him her Master, 
 And ever live under the thrall. 
 
68 
 
 PLANTATION LAYS. 
 
 For the bluotl in her veins is too anient 
 
 To leave her content with her lot, 
 Like the herd she is classed with, — she mourneth. 
 
 But she cannot unravel the knot ! 
 
PLANTATION LAYS. 69 
 
 R PLES FOR JIM, 
 
 Almost always it is bitter to stan^d upon the brink 
 
 Of the deep and icy waters, we shudder and we shrink; 
 
 But sometimes one can truly ask, "Where is the sting of 
 
 death, 
 And where the victory of the grave?" as he yields his 
 
 mortal breath. 
 
 Despite the shock and agony, we think it sweet and grand' 
 To die upon the battle field, to save our native land ; 
 And the thought is very soothing that death will o'er us 
 
 creep, 
 As we lie at home on the sick bed, like a soft and gentle 
 
 sleep; 
 
 With our head upon the pillow, on which so oft before 
 
 We've met with rest and pleasing dreams, or thought each 
 purpose o'er, — 
 
 With our weeping friends around us to bid the last fare- 
 well. 
 
 And some gentle hand upon our brow to soothe the pains 
 that swell. 
 
 [*These lines were composed at Darlington Court House, S. C, in October, 1879, 
 during the rather restless night passed by the author before argument in case of the 
 T/ie State vs. jfavies Cajiipbcll, a colored man, on trial for murder, and were 
 actually repeated at the conclusion of the author's speech in defense next day, before 
 Judge J . B. Kershaw and the jury, — though, it is needless to say, without announc- 
 ing their source. Jim (being acq\iitted in spite of the verses) has since named a 
 child after me, and I return the compliment by appending his name to my lines, 
 which until herein printed stood "A Plea to the Jury," in MS. I will add that 
 since 1877, executions have been private in S. C, — lest the verses mislead.] 
 
'■<» PLANTATION LAVS. 
 
 Willi the dear old doc tor l)y our side, who has saved us in 
 
 the past 
 A hundred times and tries to now, hut's powerless at last, 
 And to know we'll then be laid beside the loved ones who 
 
 repose 
 Beneath the willow, and the grass, that in tiie church yard 
 
 grows. 
 
 lint the convict has no mourning friends to cheer him as 
 
 he tlies, 
 lUit the brutal crowd swarm round him, to gape and strain 
 
 their eyes; 
 Beneath him are no easing folds on which to pass away, 
 But the gallows and the tightening rope bear up their 
 
 strangling prey. 
 
 He has no hand to soothe him, all men are there to see 
 That pitilessly is carried out the bloody law's decree; 
 The troops among whose glittering ranks to fall it were 
 
 such fame 
 Are in array to see that he shall die a death of shame. 
 
 E'en the doctors, e'er at other times intent to save and 
 
 cure, 
 Are there to see he's not cut down until the work is sure; 
 Till his pulse is still and (piiet, and the life has ebbed 
 
 awa}' ; 
 When careless hands his body seize, and in the coffin lay. 
 
 With his eyes blood-shot, protruding, and the foam upon 
 
 his \']\), 
 And then in a mean, ilishonored grave the corpse they 
 
 quickly slip; 
 
PLANTATION LAYS. 71 
 
 While his spirit, rudely torn away, of that region goes in 
 
 quest, 
 Where the wicked cease from troubling and the weary are 
 
 at rest. 
 
 LOYE AND ESTRANGEMENT. 
 
 A MEDITATIYE ROMANCE. 
 
 Ah ! there is naught can match the bliss 
 Which every ardent lover feels 
 When she to whom he pleads and kneels 
 
 Allows him the warm betrothal kiss. 
 
 And oh ! I ask the bards who paint 
 The torments of the damned below, 
 To say if there be deeper woe 
 
 Than loss of her for whom we faint ? 
 
 'Tis kinship of the soul makes love ; 
 Some natures jar, seem ne'er in tune, 
 While others, like the sun to noon 
 
 Seem fitted, e'er together move. 
 
 Because we've need for sympathy, 
 Appreciation, tender, true. 
 For some to trust, confide in, who 
 
 Will feel with us, and laugh or cry. 
 
PLANTATION LAYS. 
 
 So all love's sweet— in mother kind, 
 In father, brother, sister, friend ; 
 And torturing pangs the spirit rend 
 
 If these are to its longings blind. 
 
 I^iit— such of sex the natural charm- 
 When we repose on woman's breast, 
 When heart to throbbing heart is pressed, 
 
 Flows sympathy most full and warm. 
 
 i^ecause as boyhood into youth. 
 Like dawn into the morning, opes. 
 Our taste is palled by wonted hopes, 
 
 By scenes and things that used to soothe. 
 
 There comes a sense of unknown need. 
 We muse and i)ine, we know not why, 
 And aimless live, till by and by 
 
 We suddenly awake, take heed : 
 
 The soul has found it loves, at last ! 
 
 A thrilling form within the view 
 
 Has risen ; blindly we pursue, 
 Stake weal or woe, upon the cast. 
 
 And for each one there's some bright soub — 
 Who'd suit no other, made for him; — 
 Who seen will make his vision swim. 
 
 And gained will make his nature whole. 
 
 For there's a magnet force in love; 
 A hundred girls may fail to draw 
 A man to them, though not a (law 
 
 Is in them, fair as those above. 
 
PLANTATION LAYS. 73 
 
 But let him see the one that fate 
 Designed for him, and he will start, 
 Quick to his throat will leap his heart. 
 
 And he must die or with her mate. 
 
 So if we hold a needle near 
 A hundred stones or iron bolts, 
 No force within them draws or jolts, 
 
 To them it never will adhere. 
 
 But hold it near the magnet bar, 
 
 Or lode-stone true, and it will spring 
 To either one, and to it cling, 
 
 Though you may roughly shake or jar. 
 
 Yet I may err : to Boswell said 
 
 Gruff Johnson, dear to English heart, ^ 
 "The sexes have no counterpart ; 
 
 A man could fifty thousand wed, 
 
 And each would suit him just as well 
 As any other; for 't were best 
 Your wife to choose by cool behest 
 
 Of judge, and not by passion's spell." 
 
 Still, passion's strong ! I lived apart 
 From men, my soul intent on fame, 
 Long years, resolved to win the game, 
 
 Though everything should try to thwart; 
 
 No man, or great, or small, no king 
 
 Could make me, cringing, yield to him, 
 • And yet I've kneeled while all grew dim 
 Before this slight and delicate thing. 
 
I'LANTAIION LAVS. 
 
 I'd read of Maggie TulUver, 
 
 Of Beulah, Myrrlia," and I'd long 
 To find some girl amidst the throng 
 
 Like them, so I could worship her. 
 
 Yes, often, often, I had sighed 
 
 To find one who could feel with me — 
 Had sometimes thought, ''At last 't is she, 
 
 I've found my own true love, my bride." 
 
 But something told me each time ere 
 
 I spoke, "She's not for thee,"— it passed ! 
 But well 1 knew my love at last, 
 
 When full I came within jw//- sphere .' 
 
 At this, I know, the world would laugh. 
 Men look on marriage business-wise, 
 Think ''true love," "kindred souls," and sighs 
 
 Are talk made of the veriest chaff. 
 
 But I would die without you; none 
 Save you would suit me; we are kin, 
 Of soul, made each for each; I'd win 
 
 The world itself if you were won ! 
 
 And strange ! o'er books she does not pore, 
 
 She loves not many things I love, 
 
 But, like a voice heard from above, 
 She thrills me, so I must adore. 
 
 Ah ! she is joyous, young and warm, 
 
 But just si.xteen, and life and -light, 
 
 As if she were some vision bright. 
 Breathe from her slender, chiseled form. 
 
PLANTATION LAYS. 
 
 give me the girl of sweet sixteen ! 
 Ere time her ardor has assuaged, 
 Before she has grown formal, aged, — 
 
 Crisp, fresh, each impulse swift and keen. 
 
 For I detest the maiden cold, 
 
 The one whom proper notions rule, — 
 Who most of all's in loving cool, 
 
 Shrinks from a kiss, thinks candor bold. 
 
 1 love the girl who worships me ! 
 
 Who, should I warmly kiss and press, 
 Will tremble, blush, — but acquiesce; 
 For love should not one-sided be. 
 
 I love the girl who when my step 
 
 Is heard, will start with reddening cheek, 
 Who eager lists whene'er I speak, 
 
 For love that's hidden 's shallow, cheap. 
 
 For what is life unless we feel? 
 
 Ah ! throw stiff custom to the dogs, 
 Throw off each formal way that clogs 
 
 The soul, and quenches ardent zeal ! 
 
 Give me the man who speaks aloud. 
 
 Whose face betrays what passion moves, 
 W^ho wHole-souled works, or hates, or loves, 
 
 Who never is by habit cowed. 
 
 For so 't should be ! I love extremes; 
 If one's e'er ardent for the wrong, 
 He'll some day for the right be strong; 
 
 He's weak who always moderate seems. 
 
I'I,AN r,\'!I().\ I. A vs. 
 
 For rliythni and reaction rule 
 
 In nature's works, not roniproniise,'" 
 And he'll in old age be most wise 
 
 Whose youthful i)nsv,ions least are cool. 
 
 For none can reason, save they're stirred, 
 And first were warmed to search, explore; 
 And should we strive to teach before 
 
 We've felt, our reasoning's weak and blurred 
 
 And thus it happens that a time 
 Of trusting, bigotry, precedes 
 The doubt for, tolerance of all creeds; 
 
 If deep the last, the first 's sublime. 
 
 Yes, strange though 't is, fanatics are 
 
 Cosmopolites and liberals 
 
 Just in the bud,— the arsenals 
 To gather future, needed ware. 
 
 And hero worship, oft cried down, 
 Is after all the core, the germ. 
 Whence science springs, which we affirm. 
 
 With justice, gives our age renown. 
 
 O most of men will plod along. 
 
 Contented with their dull, jjoor lot. 
 And caring not one single jot 
 
 For all the themes of science, song ! 
 
 So when we see an earnest girl, 
 
 Or boy who dreams and worships e'er, 
 O give them hope! O give them cheer : 
 
 They are of precious price a pearl ! 
 
PLANTATION LAYS. 77 
 
 The crowd's so dull and stupefied 
 By earthly ways, that if a man 
 Were placed within perfection's van, 
 
 To mark a change we long should bide. 
 
 But take some girls of Maggie's stamp, 
 Some boy Macaulays,^'''' Bacons, Watts, 
 And give to them congenial lots — 
 
 They'd grow as if released from cramp. 
 
 And O ! the agonies that fall 
 
 On genius born amidst the herd! 
 O far, O far to be preferred 
 
 Of fabled hells the burning thrall ! 
 
 No wonder men of mighty mind 
 
 And spirit, lacking sympathy. 
 
 Burst, Byron-like, in awful cry 
 That starts the world, relief to find. 
 
 Nor that Mokannas, Bonapartes, 
 
 And Caesars, maddened, frenzied, starved, 
 Unsympathized with, fierce, have carved 
 
 Their fame with sword, to move men's hearts. 
 
 The conqueror's guilt, the antics queer 
 Of him who sang of Auburn's fate. 
 The brooding Manfred's ruthless hate. 
 
 The same source have, — the need of cheer. 
 
 Yet ah ! 'tis never possible 
 
 To read all thoughts of those we love ; 
 
 For like the hand within the glove. 
 The spirit's hidden in its cell. 
 
I'l.ANTA'lIo.N I.AV.s. 
 
 '•Spirit?" I spoke the cominon way ! 
 I woukl, I would we were not Ijliiid 
 And knew the truth; but ah : the mind 
 
 May not the inner self survey. 
 
 It call not look within itself, 
 
 Still less can look beneath the face 
 Of other men ; it leaves no trace 
 
 When death has wrought — like vanished elf. 
 
 We live; and then — sink back to earth? 
 Or rise? Ah, 'tis the law of laws 
 To know^ effects, but never cause ! 
 
 mournful dearth .' (J mournful dearth ! 
 
 — And can it really be my doom 
 To lose the one was made for me? 
 Then why did God e'er let me be, 
 
 Or hold me from the welcome tomb? 
 
 'Twas jealousy upon my part, 
 
 On hers 'twas will and wounded pride. 
 
 I left my youthful promised bride 
 So bitter grew the ache of heart. 
 
 1 boasted that I did not care, 
 
 Alas ! I knew not what I spoke, 
 The spell was strong, could not be broke. 
 And it will haunt me now fore'er. 
 
 I care not now to mix with men. 
 My absent looks are noticed there; 
 Nor do I meet with better ( heer, 
 
 When all alone with book or pen. 
 
PLANTATION LAYS. 79 
 
 When sometimes forced among the crowd, 
 I see them marvel at my mirth, 
 So loud and fierce — unnatural birth, 
 
 As hollow vessels ring most loud. 
 
 While those who cross me and oppose 
 Start back before my deadly glance ; 
 Yet see it is not arrogance, 
 
 But moody recklessness that shows. 
 
 An aching void is in my life, 
 I have no one to feel with me; 
 I loathe all things I hear or see. 
 
 They fail to soothe my spirit's strife. 
 
 I long to meet a loved one's look. 
 To clasp her warmly to my breast, 
 And feel her beating heart attest 
 
 Her love for me has stood the shock. 
 
 It may be that I did her wrong, — 
 I acted blind; she told me, "Go !" 
 But scorn, not guilt, she showed, and O ! 
 
 Without a word we parted long. 
 
 Ah ! who can say that beauty's naught, 
 That ill can dwell in lovely fane?^^ 
 By feelings, thoughts we entertain, 
 
 x\re features and expression wrought. 
 
 And is she not a lovely girl ? 
 
 Gaze on her face and glorious form. 
 You feel the blood roll quick and warm. 
 
 And judgment rushes into whirl ! 
 
go IM.AN TAIIoN' LAYS. 
 
 The face an artist loves to see, 
 
 O'er Nvhicli the soul is playing e'er, 
 Which ([uickly shows she is aware 
 
 Of all that ^tirs you, grief or glee. 
 
 The willowy form in Southlands made, 
 So ''airy, fairy," in its grace; 
 No stiff lines, angles, to deface. 
 
 Soft, rounded, melting, every shade. 
 
 And dreamy eyes, blue as the sea, 
 
 Where gentlest thoughts are pictured e'er, 
 That glorious wealth of golden hair,— 
 
 Ah I daisies are not sweet as she. 
 
 They tell me that she languishes 
 As if she might be all undone, 
 Like morning flower beneath the sun. 
 
 So sad is she, and si)iritless. 
 
 O who can tell why does she so? 
 O can it be that she is torn 
 By the same grief that me has worn ? 
 
 Then whv should last our bitter woe? 
 
 The slightest thing can change a life, 
 No cruelty could last in her, 
 And when my life was nigh a l)lur, 
 
 We chanced to meet : paused awkward ; rife 
 
PLANTATION LAYS. 81 
 
 We flushed. I knelt, said, "Love me, please; 
 
 I love you, in you move and live; 
 
 O ! can we not forget, forgive 
 The things that part us, mar our peace?" 
 
 And oh ! I feel the rapture now ! 
 
 Her curls were on my breast again ! 
 
 The storm-cloud passed from o'er me then, 
 The heavens shone out, grief ceased to bow ! 
 
 REFORMATION, 
 
 O ! if Christ, as man, to mortals 
 
 As of old appeared again. 
 We should see the Church's portals 
 
 Closed to him again, as then. 
 For against what men think normal 
 
 He would, as before, inveigh, 
 Pharisaic, heartless, formal 
 
 Yet is man in thought and way. 
 So we'd see both laymen, preachers 
 
 Rise against His doctrines strange. 
 Call him one of those false teachers 
 
 Who around for victims range. 
 And about the Second Advent 
 
 (If in humble guise He come) 
 'Twill be writ: ''The people mad went. 
 
 He again met martyrdom !" 
 For we ne'er are rendered better 
 
 By some sudden change of creed ; 
 We may loud profess the letter — 
 
 The old spirit rules the deed. 
 
S2 
 
 ri.ANlAIIoN LAVS. 
 
 And iiKinkiiul acts not to others 
 As he'd have them act in turn, 
 But each one against his l)rothers 
 
 Seems with jealousy to burn. 
 In the struggle for a living 
 
 Or for honors others seek, 
 All are taking blows and giving, 
 
 And the strong crush down the weak. 
 ''Times were bad, but skies are brightening,' 
 
 Thus we boast as we progress, 
 But I doubt if steam and lightning 
 
 Have increased our happiness. 
 More men now to live are able 
 
 Than could live in olden time; 
 But these still are miserable. 
 
 Toiling hard in dirt and slime. ^■- 
 While some dwell in stately houses 
 
 Millions into hovels crowd, 
 Where one man eats, drinks, carouses. 
 
 Ten are slaving, hunger cowed. 
 Management succeeds to fervor 
 
 In reforms; a livelihood 
 Seeks the preacher now, subserver 
 
 Of the fashion, not of good. 
 And I sometimes think that Jesus 
 Taught a creed we can't obey; 
 Till our passions, ills release us 
 We must on each other prey. 
 For if love of life continue, 
 
 And the love of woman last. 
 Earth must swarm, and straining sinew 
 Nor machine can save from fast. 
 
PLANTATION LAYS. 83 
 
 And while hunger man oppresses 
 
 Every one will work for self, 
 Seeking first to live, successes 
 
 Craze him, grows the love of pelf. 
 Then there follows lust of power; 
 
 And the strongest make advance, 
 Till the millions helpless cower 
 
 Underneath a tyrant's glance. 
 Nor do individuals solely 
 
 Strive their fellow men to blight, 
 Well if this described it wholly ! 
 
 But we band and nations fight. 
 Knowledge waxes, but to blind men 
 
 Matters it though glows the lamp 
 On their path? and still we find men 
 
 Warring, Europe all a camp. 
 Then the race is custom ridden. 
 
 Each one thinks his set the world, 
 And — all heresy forbidden — 
 
 Slowly is new thought unfurled. 
 Tickle, flatter, — reputation 
 
 Is upon the instant won ! 
 But the path of Reformation, 
 
 If your quest be glory, shun ! 
 He who tries may gain a hearing 
 
 Late when pleasure's gone from life 
 Or, when dead, receive the cheering 
 
 Which he needed in the strife. 
 Yes, 't is evil prematurely 
 
 For a youth to dare to think; 
 Though he reasons strongly, surely. 
 
 Men will laugh, and pass the wink. 
 
H4 
 
 I'l.A.N iahon I. a vs. 
 
 Silly comrades he surpasses 
 
 Ridicule and persecute ; 
 
 Patronage from age, alas! is 
 
 SympatiiN 's poor substitute. 
 For the old man laughs: "a dreamer, 
 
 But in time he will amend; 
 I, too, was in youth a schemer, 
 I)Ut experience did unbend." 
 Ah ! aged m-n act harshly, wrongly, 
 
 Thus to smile at youthful hope; 
 We might ( ure all ills, if strongly 
 
 Each with his fair share would cope. 
 But when old men bear so tamelv 
 
 What when young they hated, loathetl, 
 Can we marvel if yet lamely 
 
 Moves Reform, pinched, starved, unclothed? 
 Ah, yes! men and nations often. 
 
 Like the Church, reject their Christ; 
 Hard his task who tries to soften 
 
 Hearts by custom hardened, iced. 
 And methinks when on the pages 
 
 Of the i)ast I read the tale 
 Of the conflicts genius wages, 
 
 This could be its owner's wail : 
 " Cast me out, revile and censure, 
 
 Cut me keenly, to the qui( k, 
 If I e'er to serve you venture 
 
 Insults follow fast and thick. 
 Yet I thought if learning, merit 
 
 Won respect, I'd not be stung, 
 lUii the old curse I inherit, — 
 'Tis atrocious to be young,'-' 
 
PLANTATION LAYS. 85 
 
 But if youth had long since vanished, 
 
 Could I hope for better cheer? 
 No ! for men have ever banished 
 
 Genius from its native sphere. 
 Envy ! — truly spake the gentle 
 
 Jesus, ' Honors end at home !' 
 Talents ne'er are instrumental 
 
 In the life race, save you roam. 
 Ridicule me, say my speeches 
 
 Are a nuisance, out of place; 
 I submit, your act but teaches 
 
 Worth at first is but disgrace. 
 Drive me off — just Aristides, 
 
 Ostracised, survived the blow ; 
 Disraeli had to bide his 
 
 Time when hissed at starting so; 
 So Demosthenes was hooted 
 
 At the outset; 'in their pride 
 Perish sleepless souls,' naught booted 
 
 By their genius, lofty, wide. 
 Of all men the wisest, brightest, 
 
 Dying left his fame sublime. 
 Which at home was held the lightest, 
 
 Unto aliens, future time.^* 
 Yes, you spurn me, I am willing ! 
 
 Yet I swear some future day — 
 Should naught keep me from fulfilling 
 
 All the tasks I would essay, — 
 That I'll make you rue it deeply, 
 
 Deeply rue the evil hour, 
 When you chose to rate so cheaply 
 
 One on whom Fame's gifts will shower. 
 
*^ PLANTATION LAVS. 
 
 Vcs, I .swear it (k-cply, sternly, 
 
 Men shall judge 'twixt you and me 
 P>e my ashes in the urn lie 
 
 Vou your cruel fault shall see! 
 If I win in life's great battle, 
 
 You may yet be pointed out 
 As dumb, envious, driven cattle,'^ 
 
 And the world will at you scout ; 
 Saying: 'See the Lilliputians, 
 
 And the Gulliver they bound !' 
 — O your fault needs absolutions 
 Numberless, past speech profound !' 
 
 W'rUtcn a year or two after leavitii; College. 
 
 THE WORLD'S FJIIR. 
 
 1876. 
 
 I saw the throngs, of them I was a part ; 
 
 I moved a stranger midst the swelling tides. 
 
 Lonelier than had I been where wonted glides 
 My still existence, far from crowded mart. 
 I saw the trophies there displayed of art, 
 
 And gloried as I thought what vast advance 
 Those treasures showed since first mankind made start 
 
 In progress, crushed by want and ignorance. 
 Hut there were things which saddened all my joy: 
 
 I saw the monster gun at Essen"' cast, 
 And thought: " Peace reigns a while, its arts employ 
 
 The race; soon war si)reads ruin, dreadful, vast. 
 Ah : why say things of old were all amiss 
 And i^rogress boast, then weapons show like this?" 
 
 Philadklpmia, August, 1S76. 
 
PLANTATION LAYS. 
 
 SHE NEYER SMILES, 
 
 I gazed upon her in the skating rink, 
 
 Where crowds, on rollers, glided round the hall; 
 She sat alone, and though she did not shrink 
 
 From public gaze, she leaned against the wall, 
 And seemed of far off things to dream and think. 
 
 E'er now and then there came a slip, a fall. 
 And all would laugh in hearty, sportsome style, 
 But she looked pensive on, and did not smile. 
 
 I met her in her uncle's parlors, where 
 
 All things were redolent of wealth and taste, 
 
 Some evenings crowds would go to parties there, 
 Some evenings she by me alone was faced. 
 
 She was not dull, and fully would she bear 
 
 Her part in converse. Some with wit were graced, 
 
 And we were jesting, laughing all the while; 
 
 She heard, commented, but would never smile. 
 
 I met her at the dance, where music swelled. 
 Where light and beauty shone upon the scene, 
 
 Where all the soul and all existence welled 
 Into the limbs, and felt for motion keen. 
 
 She joined the mazes; could aught have dispelled 
 The cares of mind and made one feel serene 
 
 'Twas this voluptuous whirl, which ran us wild 
 
 With joy; — but though she waltzed, she never smiled. 
 
88 IM.ANTATIOX I. A VS. 
 
 She was not shy nor iiiisoi)hist icated ; 
 
 She ( ame of those wlio trace their lineage bac k ; 
 Her education could not low be rated, 
 
 Her manners richest culture did not ]iu k ; 
 So(Mety's best life she knew till sated, 
 
 In town and country travels was not sla( k ; 
 She was agreeable, talked well, was sought; 
 Hilt she was never known to sniile at aught. 
 
 All ! she had grace and deepest loveliness; 
 
 She seemed to me some grief-wrecked, fair Lucile 
 Or convent-sister who relieves distress. 
 
 But sorrow ne'er had acted to congeal — 
 Few beings could a gentler past possess; 
 
 While present, future, teemed with only weal. 
 'Twas Nature's bent, Madonna's lioly style 
 Was her's, so lovely, pure, devoitl oi' smile; 
 
 And sculi)tors would delight to model her, 
 Or artists to portray her on one knee, 
 
 With hands upraised and clasi)ed, her soul astir. 
 Her face to heaven upturned, in meekest plea. 
 
 Oh ! she would make a Virgin clear of blur, 
 An ideal Mary for us all to see; 
 
 So holy, calm, so guiltless of all guile, 
 
 So infinitely yearning, free of smile. 
 
 ENVIRONMENT, 
 
 Oh Chatterton, O Shelley ! I have oft 
 
 Wept o'er your sad tales with true sympathy; 
 
 The worltl laughs at emotion, calls it soft, 
 But fellow feeling cures austerity. 
 
PLANTATION LAYS. 89 
 
 &' 
 
 For never yet did mortal sin or err, 
 
 Laugh, groan;— when others called it foolish, wrong 
 But things within his life, and character, 
 
 Unseen to others, hurried him along. 
 
 There never yet was upright juror, judge. 
 
 Trying some lowly prisoner for crime. 
 But would have sinned the same, if, born to drudge. 
 
 He, too, had slaved for bread in dirt and slime. 
 
 O ! easy is it for the man of means, 
 
 Lolling his life away 'mid comforts, joys. 
 
 To thank God what a distance intervenes 
 
 Between himself and those that crime employs. 
 
 Why should he err? his wishes gratified, 
 In ease reclined, he feels no care nor want. 
 
 But let him take the poor man's place he'd chide, 
 Fast, shiver, toil, would he be complaisant? 
 
 We are all circumstance's creatures! each 
 Would act alike if breeding, ills concurred. 
 
 O let us think ere homilies we preach 
 
 " Had we been placed the same, then we had erred. 
 
 O Tolerance ! thou brightest gem of time, 
 The last and best sensation man evolves, 
 
 How long before to hate one 'twill be crime. 
 
 Who different from yourself life's problems solves? 
 
 Yes, destitution, bodily desire 
 
 Would make the purest, gentlest angel sin; 
 But men have not perceived that just as dire 
 
 To some men are the hungerings within. 
 
IH) IM.ANTATION LAVS. 
 
 Oh, 1 luivc passed my days a lonely man, 
 I've lived anumg, nut of the crowd around, 
 
 No drop to drink, though everywhere I scan, 
 Unmeasured ot eans, boundless seas are found. 
 
 And you have laughed at me and patronized, 
 Considered me a harmless, dreaming hov, 
 
 A theorist, a student, signalized 
 
 By fear of men, distaste for plcaMnx-, i. u\ [ 
 
 So coy in fact that naught could tempt his talk, 
 Could draw his presence, make him seem at home 
 
 With other men ; firm ever as the rock 
 
 To shun the world, he bends o'er ponderous tome. 
 
 Oh ! you have never dreamed he dared to think — 
 Think for himself, and you to criticise; 
 
 Oh, could you see, you'd start from him, ami shrink — 
 The depth of storm that 'neath the calmness lies. 
 
 I've longed to throw the gage down, tell the men 
 Who've loutlly to my face spoke out their thought, 
 
 Not dreaming I could think, had mine own ken. 
 
 That I, too, thought, and — not all things they taught. 
 
 In Carolinians flows the Hotspur blood. 
 
 Their State's the Harry Percy of the States; 
 
 Brave, generous, rash, there's nothing understood 
 Of half way measures in their loves and hates. 
 
 Oh 1 I have known \our si)irit far too well ; 
 
 Your fiery blood within mine own veins burns. 
 My quiet life, reserve, hath been a hell, 
 
 From discipline e'er soul impulsive turns. 
 
PLANTATION LAYS. 91 
 
 But why, like Arnold, leap upon the spears? 
 
 When there are none to help, to follow one. 
 Unlike to Curtius, maddened one appears 
 
 Who plunges in the gulf with reason none. 
 
 If one loves truly, yearns to help some cause. 
 He proves how deep his love not by a wild, 
 
 Impetuous effort, but by making pause 
 
 Till tells his sure blow, meanwhile though reviled. 
 
 And I have loved the truth, have spent my life 
 In quest of truth, and I will show my love 
 
 Not by the rush called for by feelings rife, 
 But by such halt as reason will approve. 
 
 1875-6. 
 
 "FIRST principles; 
 
 I once was friendly with an eremite, 
 A pale, sad, stern, abstracted college youth. 
 Who shunned all men, — till children at his sight 
 In passing ceased their play, looked awed, uncouth, - 
 Whose midnight lamp in his lone search for truth 
 Gleamed steady from the casement blinds aloft. 
 We thought him quite eccentric, and forsooth. 
 Although in life I've seen strange beings oft, 
 His equal never. But we never at him scoffed. 
 
''•i PLANTATION LAYS. 
 
 r^r he was posted in our stiKlies all, 
 In conniii'; pa^^cs from the classic lore, 
 In theorem and science, all we call 
 Good letters in the modern writers' store. 
 But 1 discovered that he pondereil o'er, 
 The most, religion and philosophy, 
 And day by day he talked, confided more ; 
 And College done some years, he made such cry 
 Of woe, as I've ne'er heard. To cite it I will try : 
 
 *'Alas ! what use is it to hold aloof 
 From what is wrong, to languish and to pine 
 For better things? Nay would it be behoof 
 If we past doubt could ascertain, define 
 What things would be perfection? —every sign 
 And proof we gain by conning Nature's laws 
 Shows, ah too surely ! that the whole design 
 Of Nature never will permit a ])ause 
 In the stern cause of evil; ever will be flaws. 
 
 "Oh, I have pored, for many a weary hour, 
 O'er treatises whose object 't was to show 
 Some consolation for the ills that shower 
 Upon the world. They say that long ago 
 The world was worse than now, men had more woe ; 
 That the hereafter shall still better be 
 And future men still happier; it is slow, 
 Improvement's march; but, as they all agree, 
 Is sure; the distant future will perfection see. 
 
 ''What mockery's here I — 'tis said when death's ilark 
 doom 
 
 Against the Orient prisoner is decreed. 
 If one agrees to suffer in his room, 
 The law is satisfied, the felon's freed; 
 Thus often guiltless men for guilty bleed. 
 
PLANTATION LAYS. 93 
 
 Oh, this is well for those who live, survive, 
 Whom friends — Alcestis-like — will supersede, 
 Or who get deputies by donative, 
 But would we be the other who must cease to live ! 
 
 '^\nd does it comfort us, if we reflect 
 That future men will have contentment, joy. 
 While we are wretched, suffering, deject? 
 Thoughts of supposed Milleniums oft employ 
 The minds of men, but can they give alloy 
 To present sorrow, if to think we halt? 
 Ah, no ! this question will. our pleasure cloy; 
 ' What good to us, when rotting in the vault. 
 The golden times which will the coming race exalt !' 
 
 "And after all, what is this progress worth? 
 Suppose that we could ride ten times as fast, 
 Send thought to distance quick as it has birth, 
 Cure ails, live better, healthier, than in past, 
 Let countless goods material be amassed; 
 Yet still would we be happy? there's the test 
 By which alone all eras must be classed; 
 And had we reached what will be progress' best 
 We still should be unhappy, languish, have unrest. 
 
 "For will we ever know what follows death, 
 If we are forms that matter chanced to take ? 
 If thought is motion, and when stops our breath 
 Then ceases life, we sleep ne'er more to wake? 
 Or have we soul within us, which will shake 
 The gross clay from it, when earth's life is quenched. 
 And glad, or slow, this world to e'er forsake 
 Search distant regions where joys will retrench 
 All earthly ills — or where 't will be in torments drenched? 
 
9* I'LA.N TArioN I. A VS. 
 
 *M)ut vain the iiuestion, all important, though; 
 For consc iousncss our grasp will e'er elude. 
 I'here's something back of what we think and do, 
 We trace its workings some; none has pursued 
 The search till ended, and the origin viewed. 
 And till we pierce the secret, happiness 
 Will still eschew us as 't has e'er eschewed. 
 But there are other things whic h wuuld depress 
 If e'er to farthest liuman limits we progress. 
 
 ''For we've e'er pined to know what underlies 
 The universe, what caused, supports all things. 
 Force, it may be, in space and time gives rise 
 To what things do and seem, what to them clings. 
 But this relieves not all the falterings 
 Which we've e'er felt when we contemplated 
 That finalest of problems— for whence springs 
 What we call force, what is it? None has read 
 That secret, nor what's flitting time? or space o'erspread 
 
 ''Let sages think and search, their triumphs are 
 But tracing back effects to causes lower, 
 And underlying all things we're aware 
 Of something which defies thought's utmost power, 
 Unknowable. Though knowledge would devour 
 All things whatever, yet there's not one fact 
 Or thing, though simple, which we can explore 
 In substance, birth. And we shall e'er be racked 
 With bitterest anguish while these things remain untracked. 
 
 "But not alone would yearnings of the soul 
 Impair our hap[)iness, but there' d remain 
 Material ills— 'spite progress— dealing dole. 
 The fight for life will ever us enchain. 
 Will ever bring its fearful share of pain. 
 
PLANTATION LAYS. 95 
 
 Suppose reclaimed, stocked full with men the earth, 
 These men well cherished under science' reign : 
 Yet, passion's ruthless, there would be new birth, 
 The strong will rear their offspring, though the weak get 
 dearth. 
 
 *'In time the human race must supersede 
 All other forms of life, and then will come 
 A contest mid its members, and the meed 
 Will fall upon the strongest ; for the doom 
 Of those not fit and strong is death and gloom. 
 Ah! sad it is, but happiness is based 
 On misery, because to make it bloom 
 Intense on some, most others deep must taste 
 Of woe, must lose their weal which on the few is placed. 
 
 '' What good is science? — for machines to save 
 Labor severe, though they enable more 
 Of mortal men to live, yet all must slave 
 Hard as before; for now as heretofore 
 The law Malthusian, hard though we deplore. 
 Must hold its course. The lifeless instrument 
 When first invented much will swell our store 
 Of time and means; yet, e'er improvident. 
 Offspring increase, till all we gained on them is spent. 
 
 ''But what if Progress was as perfect here 
 As it could be when reached earth's utmost bounds? 
 How long would it continue? Ah, 't is clear 
 That here, as ever, mournful answer sounds ! 
 For all the spheres upon their orbits' rounds, 
 Our own and all, existence all, must be 
 Resolved at last to mist ! Ah this confounds 
 The very hopefuUest, — that destiny 
 Of earthly progress simply's nebulosity. 
 
••*■' PLANTATION I.AV8. 
 
 "For th' universe, with all its various life, 
 (Jrcw troin a measureless and mattery cloud, 
 And when the time comes, when shall end the strife 
 Of evolution, mist will be our shroud, 
 And then witii the same properties endowed 
 This mattery cloud will cool to worlds again, 
 And these turn cloud once more I oh, crushed and bowed 
 Beneath remorseless laws, we here remain, 
 Unhapj)y, longing, helpless, moaning in our pain. 
 
 '• What boots it, then, to fret beneath our lot, 
 To hunt for ills and pine about their cure? 
 Are we not here jjart of a j^Ian and plor ? 
 From kicking 'gainst the goad can good enure ? 
 Each thing of life is born, becomes mature. 
 Produces offspring, languishes and dies: 
 The chiefest pleasures, then, the only sure, 
 Are eating, drinking, loving, resting! wise 
 'i'he man who revels here, drops aspirations, sighs. 
 
 "Yes, after all there is no hai)|)iness 
 Which equals that which from these sources flows. 
 Oh, to be hai)|)y we must acquiesce 
 In what experience, what reason, shows 
 To be inevitable; who but knows 
 We are put here, each in peculiar place, '^ 
 To draw nutrition, propagate till mows 
 The scythe of death, when, lying 'neath the grass. 
 We'll rot and into other forms of matter pass! 
 
 "Oh, I've done wrong to rail upon mankind ! 
 They seize the pleasures of the present hour, 
 They neither look ahead, or look behind. 
 Think not on evils that above them tower; 
 
PLANTATION LAYS. 97 
 
 They seek each other; when within their power 
 They rest from labor, shimber, feast and drink, 
 Seek beauty's arms within the nuptial bower. 
 And they do right! why should I weep and think 
 Of what the world should be, and from my fellows shrink?"' 
 
 LSCK OF STAMPS, 
 
 [Dedicated to a young gentleman friend who had been engaged for four years.] 
 
 I clasp you to my heart, my love, 
 And sip the nectar from your lip. 
 
 And feel as if I were above. 
 
 While fleet the moments onward slip. 
 
 And warmly you return the press 
 And kiss me back again, my love. 
 
 But short these gleams of blissfulness. 
 
 Dark clouds their shadows forward shove. 
 
 For though }ou're in my arms, my love. 
 Though daily I am at your side, 
 
 'Tis fated by the powers above 
 That you may never be my bride. 
 
 For there, alas ! is many a bar 
 
 Can sever nearest hearts, my love; 
 
 — We could not touch, though near, the star. 
 If cased our hand in iron glove. 
 
PLANTATION LAYS. 
 
 O! all the tears wf shed, my luve, 
 Arc due nut to the wealthy swain, 
 
 Who warmly strives to win his dove, 
 But finds he is not loved again. 
 
 For wed her — if she willed — he could, 
 And he may find another dove; 
 
 Hut wed 7c>r ma\' not, though we would. 
 Nor could 1 wed another love. 
 
 Ah ! what's this cruel bar, my love, 
 That parts us and our being cramps — 
 
 What is this dark decree above? 
 
 'Tis merelv,— well, the lack of stamps! 
 
 M INSCRIPTION, 
 
 [Written on the fly leaf of a young lady's autograph album.] 
 
 Ask a girl for her fnt and she will not resist, 
 But writes it quite childdike and bland ; 
 
 But all are aware 'tis a different affair, 
 If you ask for the gift of her hand. 
 
 Now if it shall haj) that any \oung ihap 
 In this Albtmi e'er finds such a fist, 
 
 As to wish and demand and be \ ielded the hand, 
 My object shall not have been missed 1 
 
PLANTATION LAYS. 99 
 
 M EXCUSE, 
 
 [Written in shorthand in the album of a young lady in Charleston.] 
 
 You asked me to write, but such was my plight 
 That though I searched volumes of song, 
 
 I found not a line, which I'd like to assign 
 To a place in your Album's choice throng. 
 
 And I even did worse, when I turned from the verse 
 Of others, and tried my own hand ; — 
 
 So spare me abuse, if I write this excuse 
 Instead of some sentiment grand ! 
 
 MAJOR SPREID. ' 
 
 A BURLESQUE ON AN ACTUAL INCIDENT, 
 
 Read from the Reading Box of Eiiphradian Society, at College, when the author 
 was just seventeen. Given uncorrected.] 
 
 From ancient Greece a host of heroes sprang 
 Far famed in rapine, deeds of blood and spleen 
 
 And of their actions Father Homer sang, 
 Outdoing every author that we've seen. 
 
 But of their battles we have heard enough ! 
 
 A modern is the subject of my song. 
 Inspire me, Muse, and though the ways are rough 
 
 To thy bright temple, let me not go wrong. 
 
100 I'KANTATION I.AY8. 
 
 I sing the actions of fierce Major Spread, 
 
 A hero and a Carolinian trne, 
 Who by the fair ones and good whiskey led, 
 
 Committed blunders which I'll tell to you. 
 
 For Major Spread a ladies' man was he, 
 
 And he would ilance and flirt and kill his time, 
 
 And go to i)arties and get on a sjjree, 
 
 Or to his sweetheart write a verse in rhyme. 
 
 The Major was a handsome man in truth, 
 His features fine, and of the Roman cast; 
 
 Moustaches long, and waxed like jolly youth. 
 
 While limbs and cheeks were of i)roportions vast. 
 
 Once was a jxirty on a star-lit night. 
 
 To which the Major with some friends had gone. 
 And where a fair one, to his great delight. 
 
 Had asked a favor of our gallant Don. 
 
 For then the tyrant, fashion, had ordained 
 That every lady should a framework get 
 
 Of copper wire bent and interchained, 
 Just like a basket, and with moss o'erset. 
 
 And this— a hanging basket called by name- 
 Was what the lady wished to make just then; 
 
 She had the framework, and to him she came 
 To ask for moss, out of some swamp or fen. 
 
 Next day ecjuipped with basket, axe and saw, 
 Into the woods he sped his hasty way. 
 
 He wished to go to Cedar Creek, and draw 
 
 From off some moss grown tree the clusters grev. 
 
PLANTATION LAYS. 101 
 
 Far in the inmost recess of the swamp 
 
 He penetrates, and seeks the slippery bank 
 
 Of Cedar Creek, on which he took a romp, 
 And from. its waters clear and deep he drank, 
 
 As also of some waters stronger far 
 
 Which he had loaded in a pocket flask, 
 
 Not quite enough to stir his perpendicular, 
 But too much for his safety on such task. 
 
 And being then refreshed and rested well, 
 He hies him to his work of love and trust, 
 
 And climbs aloft into a tree, they tell. 
 
 With branches o'er the water's surface thrust. 
 
 And taking now the saw into his hands, 
 
 A moss hung branch which o'er the water frowned 
 He picks him out, and quick on it he stands. 
 
 Upright and steady as if on the ground. 
 
 And then our Major, leaning o'er the limb, 
 Between himself and trunk began to saw. 
 
 From love and nectar was his sight so dim 
 That from his peril he did not withdraw. 
 
 With the utmost haste was the limb sawed through. 
 And, giving away with a horrible crash, 
 
 Down it and the Major to the water flew, 
 And tumbled in with a deafening splash ! 
 
 And now he yells and cries and roars aloud. 
 
 He screams with fright and wallows in the mud, 
 
 The water gurgles, and, with grandeur proud. 
 Enveloping, sinks him under the flood. 
 
102 PLANTATION LAYS. 
 
 Dui .\Lijur Spread, lu- (|ui( kly rose again; — 
 
 A gas-bag cannot under water slay ; 
 But one of his boots, it was a number ten, 
 
 It left his foot and swiftly sailed away. 
 
 The tenants of the water, rudely roused, 
 
 Came swimming from their dens in terror wild, 
 
 To where our struggling hero, badly soused, 
 Was rolling yet and bawling like a child. 
 
 And some into his coat-sleeves swam and stayed, 
 And down his only boot leg creeped a pack ; 
 
 A little perch into his jHxket strayed, 
 
 A slippery eel slid down his flinching back. 
 
 At last the Major crept out to the bank, 
 He sat upon a log and sucked his paw; 
 
 The trees and moss looked down upon him frank, 
 A crow which flew above cawed , ' ' Haw ! Haw ! Haw I ' 
 
 At length the Major rose up from his seat 
 
 "And slowly homeward i)lud his weary way," 
 
 While every i)erson on tiie road he'd meet 
 
 Would look at him antl cry, *'Oh, Hay, Hay, Hay!' 
 
 And from that day our hero's been 
 
 A very altered man. 
 He says the fiiir sex led him in 
 
 To dangers which he ran. 
 
 So from the ladies ever since 
 
 He's kept himself awav, 
 And from his books he does not wince 
 
 So here I end my lay ! 
 
PLANTATION LAYS. 103 
 
 ODE TO NfiRCISSS, 
 
 ANACREONTIC. 
 
 [Written at College, while sixteen years old. Also read from the Euphradian 
 Reading Box.] 
 
 Dreaming in a rustic chair 
 Placed beneath a shade-tree fair, 
 On a sultry Summer's day, 
 Methought I saw Narcissa stray 
 From out the house to where I slept, 
 When softly up to me she crept, 
 And on my willing lips she pressed 
 A kiss as sweet as nectar blessed ! 
 Forthwith with sudden rapture, rent 
 At this sweet gift so coyly sent 
 Up from the seat I sprang with haste 
 And cried, "Another on me waste !" 
 But with this cry the dream fell off. 
 And waking up with many a scoff, 
 To find it all a trance and naught. 
 And that I was by Cupid caught, 
 Straight to this God I cried aloud 
 And to him tlien and there I vowed. 
 By all things dear to me on earth, 
 His golden arrow sent in mirth 
 Forth from my heart to never pluck. 
 But with Narcissa try my luck ! 
 
»«4 PLANTATION i.AYb. 
 
 R NEGRO VHLENTINE,* 
 
 (*The lines below were the first ever composed by the author. He wrote them 
 when ten years uf age lor a family servant, a ncgress, to send to one of the colored 
 men on his father's place. This man aspired to be a dandy, shirked work when- 
 ever able, and loafed so much in the kitchen that this woman was accused of at- 
 tracting him quite as much as the victuals. Indignant at being thus teased, she- 
 asked the author to write her a " letter" warning him off. The author, as it' was 
 near the 14th February, suggested a valentine as the better plan, and it being urged 
 by the family (to tease him) that it ought to be in rhyme, he set to work and to 
 their surprise produced the lines bolow, which the woman duly mailed the loafer 
 Ihcy worked a cure, fjr when, at his re]u.-st, we read them to him on his getting 
 them, he suspected she had sent them, an J, taking it as a casus belli, he shunned 
 her and the kitchen some time. 1 
 
 To Anderson : 
 
 You think yourself so fine 
 That you try to cut a shine, 
 But I think you're mistaken, 
 So you'd better save your bacon. 
 For you loaf around the kitchen, 
 Wont work with the men, 
 And I'll give you a switchin', 
 If you come here again I 
 
 VaLENI INK 
 
PLANTATION LAYS. 105 
 
 R FRAGMENT. 
 
 JUVENILE. 
 
 Oh ! Byron was with anger not more rife 
 
 When first he felt the coarse reviewer's knife, 
 
 And he that sang the Dunciad's lay not more 
 
 Wrought up to pay the Grub street pack its score, 
 
 Than I'll be ready, when shall come the time, 
 
 To take my vengeance for your similar crime ! 
 
 We have a score to settle deep as hell, 
 
 x'\nd I will force the issue sternly, well ! 
 
 Your crowd, yes every individual name, 
 
 Though, Cottle-like, too greasy, coarse for fame, 
 
 Unflinchingly, relentless, up I'll hold 
 
 To execrations just and manifold. 
 
 You yet shall hear of how with impious hand, 
 
 Like the base Indian^^ of the roaming band, 
 
 You did not halt to throw a pearl away 
 
 Than all your tribe more rich, as worthless clay. 
 
 So think not then that you have put me down, 
 
 When you suppress my efforts, on me frown ! 
 
 The world moved on, Galileo's law was true 
 
 Despite the Inquisition's cry and hue. 
 
 They burnt the books of Luther, hurled the bull 
 
 Of excommunication 'gainst him full ; 
 
 But who's most famous, Luther or the crowd 
 
 Of churchmen, who the heretic would have cowed? 
 
 — You've scotched the snake, not killed it, like Macbeth, 
 
 'Tis the old tale of honest Wickliffe's death: 
 
 "To Severn flows the Avon, both to sea, 
 
 His dust shall spread where'er the waters be." 
 
10« 
 
 PLANTATION LAY^ 
 
 You know not whom y(ju slighted. When tlic band 
 Of pirates once found Bacchus on the strand, 
 They bore him off, restjlved to sell the lad 
 To slavery's life, and to tiieir riches add. 
 But presently the fated vessel stopped. 
 The youth — a <(od disclosed — above them tojjjjed ; 
 The tiger, lynx and panther round him stood. 
 Green vines twined up all round the vessel's wood. 
 Then terror-stricken at the monstrous thing 
 Which they had done, all haste o'erboard to spring, 
 .\nd changed to dolphins pondered long and well, 
 That sometimes worth ' neath moiiest looks may dwelt. 
 
 
nsroTiES. 
 
 — m — 
 
 I. '-District" was the appellation given to Counties by law in South 
 
 Carolina, prior to 1868. 
 
 \(i. The first Monday in every month is known as ''Sales Day"" in 
 South Carolina, being set aside by law as the time on which all 
 judicial sales must be made at the Court House door of eacli 
 County by the Sheriff and other officers. On Sales Days thou- 
 sands of people, white and black, throng in on foot or horseback, 
 or in buggies, to the County towns, to sell produce, cotton, eggs, 
 chickens, &c., swap horses or buggies, buy goods, talk to the 
 lawyers and merchants, to drink and to fight. 
 
 2; See Macaulay's Milton : "Ariosto tells a pretty story,'" &c. 
 
 ;}. See also Macaulay's Milton. 
 
 4. See Wordsworth ; Eob Roy's Grave. 
 
 ■hi. Since the preparation of this volume for the printer, the Grand 
 Jury of Charleston County have made in reference to their jail a 
 presentment in which my strictures on jails are strikingly con- 
 firmed. See News and Courier of February 29, 1884. 
 
 5. "And maidens with such eyes as would grow dim over a bleeding 
 
 hound." — TiMKOD, Charleston. 
 
 6. This refers to the origin of Charleston's name^ of course. 
 
 7. Horace; "Dulceet decorum," &c. 
 
 8. Boswell's Johnson, amw 1776. 
 
 9. See George Eliot, Mrs. Wilson {nee Evans), and Byron. 
 
 10. A favorite doctrine of Herbert Spencer's. 
 
 10a. See Trevelyan's Life and Letters, as to Macaulay's precocity. 
 
 II. "There's nothing ill can dwell in such a temple.'' — Tempest, i, 2. 
 
 12. Labor saving machines, says Bagehot, " have enabled more people 
 to exist, but these people work jijst as hard," ^fec. — Physics am) 
 Politics, v. 
 
 13. " The atrocious crime of being a young man.'' — Lord Chatha^f. 
 Speech, March 6, 1741. 
 
 14. "Think how Bacon shined. The wisest, brightest, meanest of 
 mankind."— Pope, 4 Epistle, 281. 
 
 "For my name and memory, I leave it to * * * * foreign nations. 
 and to the next ages.'' — Bacon's Will. 
 
 15. Longfellow's Psalm of Life. 
 
 16. The great Krupp gun in Machinery Hall is alluded to. 
 
 17. " Fixed like a plant on his peculiar spot, 
 
 To draw nutrition, propagate and rot.'' — Pope, 2 Epistle, (33. 
 
 18. " Of one whose hand 
 
 Like the base Indian threw a pearl away 
 Richer than all his tribe."— Othello, v. 2. 
 
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