HIIHI k^^^^J^ Hi i iliii IHIHB ' ' H|iHHH|nl HHi P ' ' ''' ffiii BI^^Hu ttimllllffllli i (!''<'' '*' mKM 1 'liiliilllilii 1 li 1 Hi I^BI 1 llliBII 1 1 1' II lliliilllliit llltl liil illl ill ill li :•{[ J 1 ^M 1 11 ' ^^HH IPiiiiiHiil III iHi ii'ii )'' ' ' ^ ' ^_ f^^^l 1 'y ^^^^j^ ^^y Z^-^^^-^ ^i::^^-<^-c. LIBRi\RY OF CONGRESS. tag. - jOpgrtjW ||o { t ^^ l£^1 I * UNITED STATES OF AMERICA, f THE PARTEERE A COLLECTION OF FLOWERS CULLED BY THE WAYSIDE. BY D. W. BE LISLE. ■ Go, cull the choicest gems of truth ; Go, gather fancy's brilliant flowers." PHILADELPHIA: J. B. LIPPINCOTT AND COMPANY. STEBEOTVPKD BY L. JOHNSON AND CO. 1849. Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1349, by D. W. B E L I S L E , in the office of the Clerk Of the District Court of the United States, in and for the Eastern District of Pennsylvania. EARL WHEELER, Esq., THIS LITTLE VOLUME IS RESPECTF U L LY DEDICATED BY THE AUTHOR. To thee, dear friend, my humble Muse would sing A {ew brief strains— though simple they may seem- 'T is the meek tribute of my heart they bring, The grateful offering of my spirit's dream. And, thus, to thee, I fain would offer up My feeling soul — with all its cherish'd truth — Oh ! say— wilt thou receive the proffer'd cup And drink, or scorn the waywardness of youth ? TO THE READER. As gentle rains recall the drooping flowers, And moisten and revivify the soil — So, a few pearls, culled in my leisure hours, Perchance, may prove a tribute for my toil. And if, the while, there dwell within one heart A hidden germ untouched by sunshine yet, May tliis meek offering of my Muse impart A moral ray that heart will ne"er forget — To call it up from its secluded bower, A full, rich, fragrant, and untainted flower, D. W. B. CONTENTS. Page A Scene from Real Life, 90 A Similitude, 56 Autumn, 67 A Simile, 16 Address to the Reader, 3 A Fragment, 117 An Ode for the Fourth of July, 120 An Obituary, 109 A Poet's Vision, 87 Battle of Buena Vista, 59 Birth Place, My 37 Be Bold ! 126 Chasten'd Face, That 71 Childhood's Home, 58 Death of Major Ringgold, . 72 Dying Soldier to his Mother, The 34 Dedication, ^ Dead of Monterey, The 21 Death of S. B. K., 81 Departed Year, The 82 Evening Reverie, An ...*..•• 52 Exiles' Return, 63 Forsaken, The 26 Flight of Time, 62 Forgiveness, 68 Forest Foundling, The ..,..■•• 55 Genius, Death of 31 Germ of Liberty, 39 Grave of Alaric, 75 Hope, 110 Helen, Dorcas, * 99 Jewels, Memory's • • 65 Lament of the Inebriate, 88 Lost Child, The ^2 A2 5 Contfiits. Page Leaflets of Memory, 74 Lines to a Friend, 50 My Motlier's Grave, 23 My Wife and Child, • 70 Moonlight on the Grave 108 Musings, Twilight 100 Napoleon in the Kremlin, 17 Nature's Music, 119 Nature's Consecration, 86 Our Little Son, .......... 61 Orvilla, To * . 77 Pleasant Valley, 10 Sunlight on the Hills, 25 Stanzas, 20 Storm at Sea, The 35 Strangers, The . . 73 Spring, Return of 102 Spring Voices, 53 Sum of Life, The Sonnet, ^ . . 115 Sadness, IO3 To Tam, 79 The Wallenpaupack, 28 To a Friend— On Parting, 78 The Liberated Slave, To my Wife, To O *****, . . . • 89 There is Music Everywhere, 128 The Expulsion, . . 105 The Wanderer's Return, HO To the Oriole — A Lay, . .122 The Repenting Sinner, HI To Lyra, 123 The Returning Prodigal, ....... 124 The Daughter to her Mother, 112 The Inebriate's Grave, 127 The Loved and Lost, II4 Winter, 104 THE PARTERRE, THE SUM OF LIFE. Bright siinshine gather'd on the hills, And caird to life the flowers ; It smiled upon the darken'd rills, And fiird with song the bowers. A child }iad sought the mountain's side To cull the violets blue — He ranged the greenwood far and wide — Had pleasure in it, too. The forests changed — a deeper shade Upon the earth was spread j Again that little child had stray'd — Though years o'er him had fled. And now a youth of slender mien, Of proud and graceful form — Full twenty summers he had seen Of sunshine, cloud, and storm. Another change — ^the yellow leaf Hung trembling in the breeze ; The child had witness'd joy and grief, Known sorrow, pain, and ease. 5rf)E parterre : 9. (Collection of jTlofcrrs Now forty years had dimm"d the cheek Of him who stood of yore Upon that mountain's simny peak, Where twice he stood before. Another yet — the wintry blast Swept fiercely o'er the plain ; Life's Rubicon the child had pass"d. He sought the hill again. Around him lay the withered leaves Profusely, scattered wide, Like yellow harvest's golden sheaves, — And there he wept and died. LONELINESS. 'T IS sweet to muse o'er seasons past. When joy and hope were fair, When on our sunny paths were cast Life's choicest blessings tliick and fast, Undimm'd by pain or care. But, it is sweeter far to know That there are friends sincere, While passing through this vale below, Who sometimes greet us here ; And whose soft words like music flow, Our lonely hearts to cheer. ©atfjcrrtt bji tfje ©SEaa^sitic. THE DYING EAGLE. Ble>-t with the rainbow's purple rays, Above the clouds of mist and haze, A floating spot was seen ; And upward, upward, upward still. It wheePd its cloud-like form, until Lost in the sun's bright sheen. Now, plunging from his eyrie-height — Reflecting back the rays of light That -on his plumage fell — Down shot the eagle — Freedom's bird — Whose wdld, deep, fearful shriek is heard Along the rocky dell. With lightning speed he darts beneath, And round his mottled crest a wreath Of freedom's gems is hung, — Those gems were placed upon his breast When Freedom's star first lit the west, And Liberty was young. Again the eagle mounts the sky With outspread wing — ^his glancing eye Surveys the hills around: But lo, he wavers in his flight! And from the azure fields of light He topples to the ground ! STfje parterre : ^ Collrclion of Jlotorrg Why lays that noble bird a wreck '? A serpent coil'd around his neck, And fix'd its deadly fang Deep in his side — the eagle's shriek From yon high mountain's craggy peak Far o'er the forest rang. Thus tyranny will seek to bind The freedom of the human mind In chains of slavish fear — Till Liberty at last shall die Like that proud eagle, whose shrill cry Grates on the tyrant's ear. PLEASANT VALLEY. 'T WAS evening, and Lyra was gleammg afar, The fairest, the purest, the loveliest star, And a golden-tinged cloud, like an angel's soft crest. Majestic, hung tremblingly poised in the west. All nature was hush'd into tranquil repose. And nought, save the waterfall's murm'ring, arose O'er the forest-clad mountain whose bold, sable broAV Indignantly frowns on the valley below. On the mild, spicy breeze, in the distance away, Roird a vapoury cloud of the cataract's spray. And borne by the zephyr, 'twas scattered around, Like a shower of dew-drops, afar o'er the ground. 10 ©atfjcrrt fig ti^e Wiau-sitjc. The leaves had been falling — all yellow and sere — The aspect of nature was solemn and drear — And the soft rays of Cynthia, feeble and pale, Cast a deep melancholy and gloom on the vale. As I gazed on the Dyberry's pure, crystal tide, That tranquilly flows by the dark mountain's side, Far up through the deep-tangled forest serene The flickering lights of the hamlet were seen. How deep was the stillness ! The river that flows. Like the midnight of death, where the pale taper glows, Held a star in each wave, as the hope of the blest, Which points the sojourner to heaven — ^his rest. I have stood by this stream when its billows roll'd high. And its foam-crested waves hurried furiously by ; I have seen the tall tree borne aloof on its wave, And cast on the shore which its wild surges lave. And thus I have mused, — The cold river of time That bears on its bosom, in every clime. The fair and the gifted, the grave and the gay. Will anchor them safely in Heaven's broad bay. Ef)e parterre : "S (TolIcctioiT of jFlotoers THE LOST CHILD. The world was hush'd — dread stillness reign'd Among the dun-clad hills, And nought was heard, save o'er the plains The music of the rills — And nought above the earth was seen, Save here and there, with glittering sheen, A peerless star reveal'd Its gems upon the brow of night, And sparkled far in heaven's bright Illimitable field. Nighfs stately queen, just risen, appear'd A ball of fiery red. And myriad hosts of brilliant lamps Were burning overhead, — But, soon bedimmxl with gathering clouds, As wrapp'd in death's untimely shrouds. Each starry light expired ; And, hid behind the folds of night. The queenly orb withdrew her light, And modestly retired. The storm-god in his mad career Led on the howling blast. And rustling through the birchen boughs, The snow fell thick and fast ; 12 ©atfjcrctr fia tfje MUn^-siXie. Till o'er the mountain's hoary head, Stern winter's icy robes were spread, And lost was every path — Till spirit-voices in the wild Abstracted from the v^^andering child The courage childhood hath. She drew her mantle to her breast, And braved the beating storm, Till overcome, she sunk to rest, A pale and helpless form ; — She dream'd — and in her dream, behold ! The scenes of childhood backward roU'd, To that fair, sunny spot, Where she had roam'd a wary child, By crystal stream, and leafy wild, Beside her mountain cot. Again the flowers of spring had come — Sweet voices filled the air — The music of the insects' hum She deem"d was everywhere ; — To her the chiming spheres were rife — All nature secm"d replete with life — But, how illusive were The scenes to which that dream had led Her fancy — and, how soon they fled. And left her lifeless there ! The storni subsided — winter past — Within that forest-glen B 13 :±\ Ef)t parterre : ^ Collection of jFloiuers The child's remains were found at last, Far from the haunt of men. As touch'd by spring's Ithuriel wand, Sweet violets sprung through all the land, And from her place of rest, A rose had rear'd its crimson head, Blossom'd and grew above the dead, Then faded on her breast. A MOTHER'S GRIEF. Twilight had spread its silver'd draperies O'er mountain, vale and sea. The stars were just Emerging from their far-off realms, and like The watchful eye of Him who never sleeps Look'd down, in brightness, through the gathering shades. Nought broke the calm, save o'er the quiet vale The noisy stream as it meander'd by, And the shrill tinkling of the distant bell, Or watch-dog's baying from the hermit's cot. The moon with queenly splendour rode the sky. Bathing the earth in her soft, mellow light. It was a sacred hour. The vesper-bells Broke on the stillness of the quiet scene ; And, as their strains in echoes died away In low, sweet cadence, o'er the distant hills, It seem'd as though an angel choir had come From fairer climes to serenade the earth, And then retreated at the gloom they saw ! 14 ©aHjfrc^ 62 tf)e 212Jaa=sitie. Such was the hour. I Avander"d to the place — The silent place — the city of the dead — Where he who treads should turn his thoughts aside From things of earth, and feel himself as nought. I paused. Upon my ear, like the sad tones Of sorrow in severest chastisement, A voice, meek and submissive, caught my ear — Yes ! — thou art dead, my child ! Thy little hands Will toss my curls in playfulness no more ! Thy fingers — they are clench'd — they do not move, — I felt them on my cheek as to ray breast I press'd thy lifeless form — ^but, oh ! how cold ! I gazed into thine eyes ! their lids were closed ! And o'er them Death his signet seal had set. Thy merry voice ! how like a soft-toned lute (Whose strains are sweetest at the twdlight hour) It seem'd, — it too is hushed — save now and then, In whispers from the spirit land, it breathes Such melody as angels love to hear, Bidding my heart be glad. The silvery moon, Half hid, to-night, behind a veil of clouds, Whose broken turrets, pointing upwards, seem Like mountains tinsel'd with a fringe of gold — While in the waters of the rippled sea. Ten thousand stars like living gems are set. Such scenes I love, as by thy grave I weep, So like thy pure and lustrous eyes they seem ; And even now, though silent, cold and dead, Metliinks, through them, thou'rt watching o'er my grief, And counting all my tears. I would not wish 15 8r^e parterre : % CEoIIrction of jFlobJcrs Thee back. Oh, no ! — earth's pilgrimage is drear — So thickly set witli ills, that when a flower Springs up afresh in some deserted bower, A worm is near to blight its opening buds, And sip its sweetness till its trunk decays ! Thou art at rest, my gentle one ! Sleep on Till from the grave each particle of dust, Reanimate, again shall rise adorn'd With never-changing garniture of bliss. Cease weeping then, my heart ! My tears, be dry ! Turn from thy dark forebodings, and be wise, And with creation and creation's God Commune, with angels, happiness and heaven : So when thy turn shall come thou mayst be found Prepared to meet thy lost one in the skies. A SIMILE. The brightest stream that gently flows Through shady grove and flow"ry lea, More deep and dark and turbid grows, As it advances towards the sea. And such is life : time onward glides. Through clouds and storms, until the sea, On which oxu: barque unanchor'd rides. Is lost in vast eternity. ©atfjcrcti I)|i tfje SMaS'-sitic. NAPOLEON IN THE KREMLIN. Within the halls of Russia's Czars Europea's conqueror stood, In all the dignity of Mars — The god of war and blood ; Until each palace, street and tower, In stillness seem'd ; a mystic power Of fear and apprehension stole Athwart the daring Corsic's soul. Despair now seized the Emperor's mind, His hopes were wither'd, fled ; Unto ambition he was blind. His soul was filFd with dread — And yet a noble front he bore, And placid features still he wore. Now, like a molten sea of flame, Swept by an angry blast, The lurid surges onward came, As heaving mountains, vast. And by the sweeping winds were hurl'd Like fiery eddies round the world. And, fearlessly, Napoleon stood Within the Kremlin halls, Regardless of the threatening flood Which swept its massive walls ; b2 r Ei)t ^arterrt : ^ (Collection of jriointrs Until the towering Palace blazed, He stood undaunted, unamazed. Nigh fifty battles he had fought, As m£Uiy victories won, And in the hottest charge ne'er thought To flee a foeman's gun : But now he stood aghast, and wept, While onward still the billows swept. Now to the clouds, huge sheets of fire In pitchy flames were cast, Like burning billows thicker, higher, Which seem'd to light the west ; And as they gather d strength to rise. Their folds had met the bending skies. Thicker and hotter grew the fire, Huge volumes rose and fell; One only place he could retire From that consuming hell • And from the Palace of the Czars The rising surges met the stars. Wildly that broiling, burning sea, Against the Kremlin beat ; Napoleon paused — ^he wish'd to flee — But, lo ! in every street Arose vast sheets of fiery spray, Which seem'd to block the conqueror's way. Those gathering waves, in teeming ire, Sxmk down and rose again. 18 (Satf)crrti ig tf)e OTag^silje. In whirling eddies, upward, higher, Like waves that rise and then retire, — It seem'd a boist'rous sea of fire, Which floods could not restrain. But still amid that sea arose The Kremlin's lofty spire, A type of truth, which will disclose, Nature's dissoh ing pyre, When round Creation's vast extent The quivering barbs of wrath are sent. As when God spake, on Sinai's height, In thunders from his throne. Up shot the lurid flashes, bright. And trembled as they shone — And, borne upon the rising swell. Vast sheets of burning canvass fell. There desolation seem'd to spread Its all-consuming wings. As if the heavens again had shed, Down from the King of kings. Another shower of fire and rain. Like that wliich fell in Siddim's plain. 19 Ei)c ^artcrrr : ^ (Collection of JTlotaers STANZAS. 'T WAS summer, and 'round me the flowers were springing, And sweetly their incense was home on the hreeze ; The woodlands and forests with music were ringing, ^ From birds that were warbling among the green trees. The zephyrs' soft pinions afar o'er the ocean Had borne the perfumes of the sweet-scented rose ; And curled its soft bosom in gentle commotion, Like stripes in the heavens at sunlight's repose. Both careless and reckless I wander'd, unheeding The music, the birds, and the soft passing breeze, Which now in low murmurs were gently receding, In angel-like whispers, afar 'mong the trees. The cool breath of evening, with sweet salutation, Had greeted my brow, and then hastened away — Yet, it left on my spirit this mournful impression, That man, like frail roses, here blooms to decay. Still reckless I roam'd, till a white slab of marble Beneath a green willow attracted my sight; I paused — but I heard not the linnet's sweet warble, For all was profound as the stillness of night. Just then, a low voice, as the soft breath of even. Came stealing serenely athwart the deep gloom That shrouded my spirit, and wliispered " in heaven Shall friends reunite who repose in the tomb." 20 ©atfjcrrli bg tfjc SMag^silre. I turn"H, to the. place whence it had proceeded, When lo I there appeared to my rapturous sight An Image — whose whispers had slowly receded — Whose countenance glowed with ineffable light. Her garments were white as the spray of the Ocean, When toss'd to and fro by the tempest's rude blast, — Her voice fell in strains of sublimest devotion, As the low sighing breeze, when the storm-god is past. With rapt exultation, I hail'd the fair stranger. As an angel of mercy, sent down from above — And found by experience this heavenly ranger Stamped her name on my heart — "twas religion and love. THE DEAD OF MONTEREY. Thet sleep in silence — o'er their graves The flag of Freedom proudly waves ; And, as the sun, with stately tread. Bends meekly down to kiss the dead. Our Stars and Stripes above them stream, And glitter in the morning's beam. No monument points out the spot — The warriers tramp disturbs them not — Nor battle-shout, nor clashing steel, Nor rumbling of war's chariot-wheel. Can rouse the sleepers from the gloom That circumscribes the silent tomb. STfje Parterre : % eToflrrtion of JFloiners They sleep in quiet — one by one Sunk down before the foeman's gun — While on that dreadful field of strife The drum's deep roll and thrilling fife Inspired the brave to forward press, Till valor crown'd them w4th success. But, lo ! above the unconscious dead The sable folds of night were spread In mourning vestures overhead, — Beneath the war-steeds' iron tread Their marr'd and mangled forms were trod Deep in the reeking, blood-stain"d sod ! The battle's strife had died away, — The towering spires of Monterey, That glitter'd on that fearful day. Like giants, in the dreadful fray. Fell in the furious blast. Now all was hush'd — the watchman's fiie Blazed broader, brighter, clearer, higher ; And where a brother, husband, sire. In groans and agonies expire. Its fitfiil gleams are cast. Those valiant heroes — side by side Tliey stood and fought, and bled, and died ! And from their breasts a crimson tide Of thick and clotted gore did glide In torrents all around ; But, now they sleep — a noble band. Who side by side no more shall stand, 22 <5at^mti ba tf)c WiaQ'-zitie. To save their own, free, happy land From Despotism's cruel hand, — They sleep beneath the ground ! " Peace to their ashes !" — may they rest In peace, till from earth's floweiy breast, The tree of freedom waves Its tufted boughs and vernal fold, Above their lonely, quiet, cold, And solitary graves. MY MOTHER'S GRAVE. There is one little quiet spot, A purling stream beside, Scarce twenty paces from the cot Where my dear mother died. "Tis many years since then — but still The cot, and grave, and sloping hill, The bounding brook, and dancing rill Are there — I think of them until Sad musings make my blood run chill, And tears my weeping eyes do fill, And grief subdues my pride. I sought that place when autumn skies Wept o'er a fading world — When eve, wdth twice ten thousand dyes. Its starry wings unfurl'd — Kf)e parterre : a CCoUectton of JFlniners And memory back my thoughts had flung, When I in years and hope was young, When from that tender mother's tongue The voice of music sweetly rung. While to her sleeping babe she sung As fondly to her breast it clung. Ere death at her was hurl'd. 'Tis many leagues away, but yet My childhood's home I see — Ah ! tridy. I can ne'er forget That spot so dear to me ! For, calmly there I laid to rest The truest, fondest, kindest, best Of mothers, who had oft caress'd Her reckless child upon her breast — My father I — the ocean's briny crest Which rolls along the darken 'd west, Beats o'er him wild and free. That grave with grass is overgrown — The brook and dancing rill To me hath each a plaintive moan While rushing down the hill : That cot, the place where I was born, Stands lonely, desolate, forlorn : The blooming fields of waving com. Of all their beauties rudely shorn, | Look meekly up and seem to momn — | While through the glen the hunter's horn | Is echo'd loud and shrill! I 24 ©atfjrrctJ tji tfje WLa^csitif. SUNLIGHT ON THE HILLS. Upon a lofty mountain's brow, Bedeck"d with forests wild, Where waving cedars richly grow, A something paused and smiled ; It rested on the summit high, Where early dew distils ; And now it spanned the earth and sky — 'Twas sunlight on the hills, A radiant gleam of mellow light Its dappled wings unroll'd, Until the far-ofF mountain height Seem'd limn'd with leaves of gold. — And falling to the plains below, It sported on the rills, Until the valley seem'd to glow With sunlight on the hills. Night gather "d thick and fast around, — A weary pilgrim's eye Had caught this ray — then on the ground Laid calmly down to die Beside a tranquil flowing stream : Convulsed with death's damp chills, He longed to catch another gleam Of sunlight on the hills, C 25 E^e parterre : % (Collection of JFloincrs The autumn winds went sweeping by, Breathing a mournful strain ; And clouds that darkened all the sky- Hung trembling o'er the plain, — For long ere mom dispersed the night, And shone upon the rills, His soul had caught a ray of light On the eternal hills. THE FORSAKEN. Like the lone dove that mourns her mate, Alone she walked the leafy dell, And on her ear. all desolate, Her echoing footsteps wildly fell. She strove to hide the starting tear, The deep-drawai sigh, but half suppressed, The impulse of a conscious fear, And poignant anguish of her breast. She seldom smiled — but now and then, Involuntarily, her eye Assumed as wild a glance, as when The lightnings flash athwart tlie sky. The spirit-chord that bound her soul In spells of pure enchantment sweet, Sent to her heart a death-like toll. At which her spirit shrank to meet. ©atfjcrcti bn tljc 5Ma2=sitoc. She sleeps ! — above her lonely tomb The hawthorn weaves a branchy shade, Whose tufted boughs and vernal bloom Mark where the gifted one was laid. Hers was the muse's lofty power, — And, as she struck the trembling lyre, Her numbers breath"d through life's short hour The genius of the poet's fire. Her feelings were so finely strung — So deep her thoughts — ^her heart so kind — That every disappointment flung A blighting shadow o'er her mind. And while the Muses on her smiled. And deeper roll'd each thrilling tone — Without a friend, in yonder wild She died — forsaken and alone ! ^f)t parterre : a Collection of J'loiucrs TO MY WIFE. "Tis night — the silvery moon is high — The stars look down on dewy plains — The balmy winds pass softly by. And sweetly sound the vesper strains. Bathed in the moonbeams' mellow light, The limpid streams go dancing by, And every wavelet seems as bright As gems suspended in the sky. But I am sad ! Thou art not here — Within these halls thy tread is not ! And yet, remembrance brings thee near, And we are happy. Are we not 1 Thy gentle voice, though far away, Falls on my ear like music sweet — T quickly turn, as well I may. Thy meek, submissive glance to meet. I gaze upon the dome of heaven, Where countless lamps hang high and fair, Whose pensive beams illume the even — And seem to trace thy image there ! The world is hush'd — deep silence reigns — Still as the noiseless grave it seems — And, gathering flowers among the plains, I see thee in my midnight dreams. 28 ©atfjcrcU fcn tfjc 5Mai!=silJc. Morn breaks — night's shadows flee away — The stars are lost in purer light — Save that which ushers in the day, And shines the loveliest through the night. Like it thy smiles have nerved my soul, To tread the thorny path of life, And back the waves of sadness roll, When thou art here, my gentle wife. THE GERM OF LIBERTY. On Plymouth's bleak and sterile rock A band of pilgrims stood, Unshelter'd from the tempest shock. Which shook the gloomy wood. And, while the cold, ungenial air Hung on each rock and tree A frosty fringe — they planted there The germ of Liberty. The Indian from his covert gazed ; His bow and hatchet fell ; Awe fill'd his heart, he stood amazed. As by a magic spell. He saw that bold and fearless band, Whose hearts beat high and free, Resolve to make his native land The home ol Liberty, 02 29 Ei)e ^artcrrf : '^ (Collection of JFloiDtrs The dusky vistas of the wood Were clothed in darker night — Still, there the pilgrim fathers stood ; A wilderness in sight ! — And then, as Memory backward traced Its flight across the sea — Before their God they knelt around The shrine of liberty. The bloody stains of War, since then, Columbia's soil have wet : But o'er her sunny liills and streams That Tree is waving yet. Would that its boughs might wider spread, Until its branches twined A massive fortress round the world. Embracing all mankind. The slave would then shake off" his chains,- War's burning curse would cease — Ajar the prison gates would fly, And men would live in peace. That stately tree, now green and fair, Would lift its lofty head Up to the clouds — and back to earth Its heavenly blessings shed. ©atfjcrrt bn tfjc ffijaag^gitic. THE DEATH OF GENIUS. It was a summer sunset, such as oft Gives glorious beauty to our western heavens. The clouds burn'd with a thousand stolen fires, And in the borrow'd beauty of an hour Lay bathed far in the depths of silence, bright As some Elysian dream of poetry. The golden radiance of expiring day Stream'd through an open casement in rich floods Of mellow'd lustre, o'er a couch of death "Which for a moment seem'd to lose the gloom Aroimd it hanging. On it lay a form Wasted and weak with sickness in the sweat Of its death agony ; and tearful eyes Watch'd with a vigil of anxiety. It was a form of manliness where age, As yet, had sent no pioneering sign To herald its approach. He had not seen The suns of thirty summers, and his locks, Unwhiten'd by a line of silver yet. Around his temples curl'd, and tliick fell o'er The sno^\7■ pillow. On his lofty brow, Pallid and icy, thought and care had left The signet that seems much more meet for one Farther descended in the vale of years. There was a flashing in his large, dark eye. ®;f)c parterre : ^ Collection of J'loiutra At times, as lightnings from a cloud of storms : 'Twas not the fire of health and intellect, But a wild, unwonted light ; and words Came in unmeaning murmurs from his lips, Half utter'd to the silence, and to those Who wept in sadness 'round his dying bed — That told the fever of delirium Had fired his brain, and reason from her throne, Where she had ruled so mighty — a queen — Was driven afar. And as the glorious sun Hid his slant beams behind the horizon. The breath departed from him. His had been A path untrodden by the thoughtless crowd Of earth's mortality, mark'd for the few, The gifted few that seem unmeet to move In our gross atmosphere ; whose spirit-chords. So finely strung, in a serener air Long to vibrate more freely. Realms of thought Had been his spirit home, and it had roam'd The fairy land of wild imaginings. Peopled with the creations of itself, Happy or sorrowful ; his throbbing brain Had labour'd with the beings that had birth Unbidden in its cells. And he had held Communion with creation and its God. The beautifiil had been his worship : he had found Beauties, that thousands pass unheeded by, And dream not of 5 — along his pathway strewn There were some dreams, whispering happiness Common to all, that an alluring light 32 . That when my life shall cease On earth, my soul shall soar away To Heaven, and joy, and peace. "Then I shall clasp my family Into my arms again. And be exempt from cares and tears. And sublunary pain ; — "There, too, their smiles I shall enjoy, And never more repine. But, as an angel clothed in light. My soul shall ever shine.-' I 97 E^e parterre : ^ (CoUcttion of Slo'iatxs " Oh yes, kind sir, you there shall wear A crown of glory bright, And there enjoy, around God's Throne, Unwavering delight. "And you shall range the fields of bliss. By Life's pellucid stream. While on your aged and wrinkled brow Eternal light shall beam." " Farewell," he said, " I leave you now, Though tears are in my eyes. But hope that we may meet again Beyond the starry skies." We parted then, to meet no more, Till Gabriel's trump shall sound, And call th' unnumber'd millions forth, That sleep beneath the ground. ffiatlKrctJ br) tijc jyHaa=2iUe. DORCAS HELEN. I SAW her in the bloom of youth, A sylph-like maid, with downcast eyes — She seem'd the title-page of truth — A faultless being from the skies. It seem'd, amid her sinless mirth, While music blended with the chimes. That, though her body.dwelt on earth. Her spirit roam'd through purer climes. 'T was sad to see her hectic cheek — That marble brow and beaming eye ; And yet, 't was sweet to hear her speak, It seem'd like whispers from the sky. Her home is in the hills away— The summer breezes fan her brow; And sparkling rills and brooklets play Around her mountain cottage now. Her thoughts seem rich with moral worth. And free from sublunary care, As if she 'd only come to earth To show what perfect angels are. 09 2Cf)£ ipavterrc: a Collection of Jloinerg TWILIGHT MUSINGS. The golden sun went down Amid Hesperian skies, And, on the battlemented clouds That seem'd to rise Like umbrage columns, or Egyptian shrouds, Shed variegated dyes. The evening zephyr came From woody dell, and glade. And stooping from its lofty height, It paused — and play'd Upon the bosom of a streamlet bright. And thus it said : — " To-day I left the southern shore. Laved by the bright, blue sea, — And in my course, I 've wandered o'er Rich fields, and mountains free. " I saw the slave in servile chains. Beneath the tropic sun. By tyrants scourged, till from his veins A crimson torrent run." 100 ®atf)nT'l3 bQ tfje Wlnu-siOe. Thus must humanity- Kneel at oppression's shrine ! And kiss the rod, upraised to deal Stripes not condign — Inflicted by the men who never feel A good design ! The shades of night came on, And Vesta's radiant light, Like Luna, unobscured, sent forth, "^ Li lustre bright. Her brilliant rays, till from the north It sunk from sight. Methought, while thus I view'd This grand and glorious scene. That man, though bound in servile chains, Shall be absolved from all the stains That sin hath made — And on the wings of faith arise To purer realms beyond the skies. 101 Kl}t ^artrrrc: a Collcrtion of jFIoiners RETURN OF SPRING. 'T IS sweet to hear the birds of Spring Their early lays and anthenas sing, Which make the budding forests ring, And which to sighing mortals bring New thoughts of life. The dancing rill Leaps, foaming, headlong down the hill. And hurries onward to the mill. In whirling eddies. Now the trout Plays beautifully thereabout — How I would like to hook his snout, Then twirl him round, and bring him out. To see him flounder, jump, and spout Like a young lawyer. Lo ! the skies Are full of atoms, smoke, and flies, Which thicker and faster seem to rise. Until, alas ! my aching eyes — Not that they are of such a size. Nor yet because they look so wise — Are full of dust. The violets blue, Which on the hill-side meekly grew. CItntfjcrrti l)ji tf)c JI15IIan=sttif. Again present a lively hue, And woodbines now are peeping through Their icy folds of winter, too, And warming in the sun. SADNESS. The silvery moon to-night is pale. The stars but dimly shine, And plaintively the passing gale Sighs o'er the Brandywine : But softly from the Ocean's breast, Pure as the breath of Spring, A cool breeze lulls my heart to rest, By its sweet murmuring. A cloud hangs darkly in the west, Touch'd with the day's last gleams, As if the sun had sunk to rest Into a land of dreams. I turn, in this sad, lonely hour. My thoughts to thee afar. While o'er my head night's curtains hang. Suspended from a star. 103 STTjc ^Parterrr : "S CoIIrrtion of JFIofccvs WINTER. 'T js winter now — the hollow winds are high, The wither'd leaves bestrew the woods again, And swiftly float the dark clouds through the sky, Whose gloonny shadows lengthen on the plain. Obsequious voices, borne upon the breeze, Like funeral rites, along the hills are heard, Whose dismal sounds, among the forest trees, Seem like the moanings of the evening bird. The philomel hath hush'd her plaintive song. Her vesper-strain, sung by yon dancing rill, \ Whose shrill, sweet voice rose high, and loud, and long Then, in soft echoes, died along the hill. But, spring again, with vernal zephyrs bland. Will call to life the swelling buds and flowers. And with rich fragrance scatter o'er the land The germs of life — revived by genial showers. Thus bud and bloom the fairest of our race, — In early life sweet flowers around us spring. But soon, too soon, will strangers take our place And sighing winds our funeral dirges sing. 104 CEatfjcrctj bii tfje EJKaa^siTjc. THE EXPULSION. On the dim verge of day, when creation was young, And the first twinkling stars in the heavens were hung, In the distance appear 'd, like a spectre of night, A soft, fleecy cloud ; and, with pinions as light As the down of a thistle, it floated all free O'er the boundless expanse of the fathomless sea. The sun's parting rays tipp'd its edges with gold. As away on the horizon's borders it roll'd. While back to the earth a light shadow was spread From that crimson-tinged cloud floating gently o'erhead. The breeze from Euphrates, at twilight's calm hour, Came laden with incense through Eden's rich bower, And the cloud on its pinions was passing away, Like a vapory mist at the dawning of day ; Then, changing its texture to darkness from light. Again sallied forth in the strength of its might, Till across the broad heavens its shadow was cast. And the tempest swept by on the wing of the blast ! Still thicker and thicker the dark shadow grew J And fiercer and louder the hurricane blew ! And swifter and brighter the lightnings shot by. Till their bright coruscations bedazzled the eye. Till 305 STfje ^arttrre: a CToUectinn of jFlofiocrs In a vine-trellised spot, where the citron and date, And the lemon and orange a fragrance create. Where the robin's sweet song, and the hum of the bee, Echoed all the day long from each blossom and tree. Beneath a green lime sat the first of our race. With gloom in each heart and despair in each face ! " I have dream'd ! and my dream, how ill-omen'd it came ! It reveal'd a bright sword in the midst of a flame ! And cherubim guarded the flowery retreat. Where oft in the fulness of rapture we meet ! And the sword, a broad falchion, two-edged and bright, Gleam'd forth, like a star through the black folds of night ! I saw in our garden the lilies decay. The orabanche wither and moulder away. The tall oak grew leafless ; and up from the earth A willow came weeping a dirge o'er its birth ! And then a stern voice from the green, bossy glade. Where the wolf and the fawn in their innocence play'd. Pronounced a stern edict that we should depart From our Eden, and all that is dear to the heart ! I sought for the serpent who gave me to eat The fruit interdicted, so pleasant and sweet, That our fall and my sorrows to him I could give, And by eating once more might recover and live ; But, wherever I go, or, wherever I be, The sword and the angel before me I see !" Thus spake our first mother, and ere she had told The whole of her vision, the shadow unroll'd, 106 CKat^crcU fig tl^f WiaQ'-sitie. Like a badge of deep mourning, a curtain on high, And a flash as of lightning was seen in the sky ! And the voice of the Deity broke from the cloud In tones of deep thunder, portentous and loud : " Where art thou ?" — through Eden's green pastures and glades, Rich arbours, and dingles, cool fountains, and shades, Broke forth the inquiry, while, trembling with dread, Away from the voice of Jehovah they fled ! The sun rose that morning, and blushM as it rose O'er the sin-smitten vale where the olive-tree grows, And the dew-drops that glitter'd in diamond-like spray Wept themselves into vapour and floated away, — And, mingling once more in the tempest's rude blast, Again to the earth in wild torrents were cast. Till the sombre-crown'd hills, and the mountains were spread With omens that fiU'd Shinar's valleys with dread. 107 E:!jc yarlrrrr: Q. (CoUrrtioa of jFIoiacrs MOONLIGHT ON THE GRAVE. The twilight hour had passed. The ebon folds Of darkness gather'd thickly in the West, And nature seem'd attired in weeds of wo. No star was seen in the broad dome of heaven ; The moon was hid ; and not a ray of light, Save that which glimmer'd on the distant hill From some low cottage, fell upon the plain. Thus wrapped in gloom, and curtain'd with a cloud That spread its sable folds from zone to zone, The earth reposed ! How tranquil nature seemed ! No sound disturbed the quietness around. Save the low murmurs of a purling brook Which leapt from rock to rock, and in its course Made lonely music in the ear of night. I turned towards the city of the dead, Where sleep the gay, the beautiful and good. And where the youth, the matron, and the sage, Of every hue, of every age and name. In countless numbers lie. All, all was dark! But suddenly, as from a shattered cloud, A single ray of soft and mellow light Furst from the sky and rested on a grave — A grave half hid beneath encircling vines. 108 ©atrjcvflJ fia tlje 2ISJan=sil(c. I paused awhile to wonder at the scene, And as I mused, a voice approached my ear — This grave contains a Christian's slumb'ring dust ! That ray is but the silvery path that leads From death to life — from earth to heaven — on which The sainted dead revisit earth again, And angels bear their messages to God ! AN OBITUARY. Thus in the morn of life, when Hope With dappled wings and plumage gay, Spreads out her evanescent smiles, To lure the mind from Christ away — We see the cherish'd ones of earth, Like blasted roses fade and die ! — Nor did we dream their day of mirth, Alas ! would flit so quickly by. But it is so ! — the burning tear That falls from sorrow's weeping eyes In melting drops upon the bier Where a devoted brother lies ; Is but an anodyne of grief Which speaks the language of the heart, K 109 IT^== ci-Ijc parterre: S (Collection of JFIo&jrrs And oft imparts a sweet relief To mitigate the keenest smart. With proud ambition towering high, And prospects of unsullied bliss, He passed his " golden moments" by, Nor sought a better world than this ! Amid Earth's conflicts, wo and care, The " Gospel call" he heeded not. That " still small voice," which said ^^ Prepare," Tlie " one thing needful" he forgot. HOPE. A RAINBOW bent from a morning cloud. And kiss'd the dewy earth — It smiled, like an angel visitant. Through the tears that gave it birth ; And midway in the crimson'd sky Its mellow'd lustre met the eye. Thus Hope's bright rainbow, like a gleam Of sunlight glowing there, Attracts the toil-worn child of earth From life's turmoil and care ; And when through grief he sighs for Heaven, He sees it in his prayer. 110 (Satljcrrt in tf)c JMaa^sitic. THE REPENTING SINNER. I SLEPT, and dream'd, and in my vision saw A man stand weeping by his cottage door, — And in his hand a blazing light he held — The book that taught his soul the way to Heaven. And as I gazed, and saw his tears condole, With heart-felt grief, I heard him thus exclaim — " What shall I do !— what shall I do V' and then A man, with countenance sublime, drew near To him, and asked him why he mourned. 'Because,-'' said he, "I find myself a man condemn'd To die — exposed to endless misery And wo ! No ray of light can I discern. But sable darkness spreads its curtain round My path, and leaves my hopeless heart in gloom I" " Look yonder, sinner !" cried the reverend sage; " See the glorious sun, how brilliantly It shows its lucid beams — dispelling gloom And darkness from the world ! Just so this Book Will cast a radiant beam of light on Thy dark path, and change thy mental gloom, to Light divine, and guide thy soul to heaven. " Dost thou believe ?" " I do," said he. " Then let Us pray," the reverend sage exclaimed ; and 111 Z])t laartcnx : "SI (CcIIcrtion of JTlofeicrs When the sinner knelt in humble prayer, true And sincere, the Lord descended, blessed his Soul, and sent him on his journey to the Skies. He now is on his road to glory ; God is his guide, and heaven his final rest. Farewell, vain world, my Saviour bids me come Where pain and sorrow shall for ever cease, And tears are wiped from every weeping eye. THE DAUGHTER TO HER MOTHER. Oh ! Mother ! 'mid the blessed light Of new and tender ties, Thou knowest not the hoarded love That in this spirit lies; The love that with a thousand dreams Is on that path of thine ; That goeth forth with fervent love From this fond heart of mine ! Thou knowest not what mournful tints My homeward fancies trace, And how, with many silent tears, I pine to see thy face ; How all my lightly spoken words Repentantly return ; — (Sattfrrt hn ti)t WLaQ-sitit. Ah, me ! how many painful thoughts The absent one must learn ! Yet, I am blest ! and kindest words Are ever answering mine ; But never can there speak to me A voice so sweet as thine ; It soundeth in my pleasant dreams, It soundeth soft and low, And I feel again thy farewell kiss Imprinted on my brow. Oh ! let me in thy tenderness My early place retain, Though many years of change may pass Before we meet again J God bless thee, Mother! would that I Thy voiceless thoughts might share, For mine are ever following thee, In blessing and in Prayer. K2 113 2ri)e parterre : a (Collectttin of JFloiners THE LOVED AND LOST. The loved and lost I — their memory Is lingering round me now, As some soft vernal zephyr's wing, That fann'd my fever'd brow : — I heard the accents of their love In melting cadence fall. Nor dreamed the change would e'er be theirs Which comes alike to all. The loved and lost ! — Where are they now ? Those locks of auburn hair ; Those beaming eyes, with lustre bright ! — An echo answers — where ! — Where are they now ? — the silent tomb Is their serene repose ; And oft I wander to the grave. Which doth their dust enclose. The loved and lost ! — I see them yet, As roses, fresh and gay — I look again — and lo, their cheeks Are cold and pale as clay ! — Their forms, once fair, are lifeless now, Their eyes are closed in death ! They saw a brighter world, and then To God resign'd their breath. 114 (ffiatfjerrti hQ tfte ffiEaii^siUe. Their souls have gained a higher sphere. And death's cold stream is past, — Theirs are the joys at God's right hand. Which shall for ever last. The song of Moses and the Lamb Dwell sweetly on their tongue ; — A note of harmony and praise. Which angels never sung. SONNET. Wife ! yes, I love thee; yet my heart is sad, And friends are sinking one by one away ; Oh ! do not think that from thee I will stray, For I have nought, save thee, to make me glad. I sometimes weep, but wilt thou not forgive, And let me in thy pure affections live? 'T will cheer my heart to know thou still canst find A place for my lorn spirit in thy mind. Why should the past our happiness destroy ? 'Tis best to let those by-gone seasons rest. And make the welfare of ourselves and boy, — Who toys and sports upon thy tender breast, — The consummation of our daily toil. To save him from temptation's deadly coil. 115 Efje Parterre: ^ Collection of JFlolners THE WANDERER'S RETURN. I STOOD upon a pleasant hill, With summer verdure crown'd, And tall old trees, the giant kings Of nature, stood around ; Before me lay a lovely vale. And on the balmy air — RoU'd the blue smoke in quiet trains From the chimneys scatter'd there. I saw w^here, in my early days, I pass'd the pleasant hours. Beside the winding brook that still Went murmuring through the flowers — And yet, beside my ancient home The grand old elm yet grew. Whose verdant leaves were sway'd and turn'd By every wind that blew. The wild vine in its woody glen Swung o'er the sounding brook. The robin-redbreast and the wren Chirp'd gaily in their nook; I saw the clouds on crimson'd wings Float swiftly through the sky. When the evening's blush came o'er the hills Where the ample woodlands lie. 116 ffiatfjcrtto lijj tfje ?12JaD=sitic. All these are what they were, when last These pleasant hills I ranged, But the faces that I knew before, By time and grief are changed ; Where youth and bloom were on the cheek, And gladness on the brow, I only see the marks of care. Of pain and sorrow now ! A FRAGMENT. The noon is still, and sabbath reigns among These pine-clad hills with a pervading power Of holiness and life. Such deep repose Embalm'd Judea's mountains, when the Lord Of life proclaim'd to willing ear the words Of hope and peace. An overarching sky Above him spread, and earth beneath, while down The mountain's shady side the multitudes "Were gathered. Canaan's sunny fields and hills And peaceful villages were smiling near ; And all that living landscape and the 'bode Of men were imaged in the speaker's eye And heart. How sweetly rose that voice divine Upon the ravish'd ear, and died away a:f)e ^avtfrre : ^ CDllcrtioix of JloiDcrs To silence in the distant space ! How sank Its sacred accents into burning hearts That felt the majesty and power of truth, While tears of penitence, and joy, and love, Descending, wet those cheeks, embrown' d by toil, Which sin had harden'd — melted now by touch Of grace Divine. And there was age, with locks Of silvery white ; and lisping infancy Unconcious in its mother's arms ; who sat With earnest eye, attentive to the words Of wisdom. Rosy boys, and laughing girls With sun-bright hair and eyes of childhood's light. Forgot their sports and gather'd round with looks Of wonder. Each young heart was wafted on That stream of heavenly sound, proceeding from The Saviour's lips. Each childlike countenance Upraised in attitude of innocent Inquiry, mark'd with earnest look the mild And placid majesty that overspreads The Saviour's face. But who describe the face Where Deity his bright effulgence shows. And chastens all, and manifests to sense, The Godhead stands reveaPd in human form Illustrious ! What pity, quite beyond The reach of human power to comprehend. Gleams in the sweetness of his hallow'd smile ! What radiance in those eyes, from whose calm 118 (SatljeretJ hQ t\)e ?!Maa=0{tfC. Depths beam infinite intelligence and Love ! With simplest, plainest imagery And illustration did the Man Divine Convey to simple hearts profoundest truth, And solve the grand, momentous problem of Man's destiny and Heaven's purposes To be evolved in this our mortal state. Yonder the city set upon a hill — And here the sparrow chirping on the bough — The lilies of the field are growing near — And each became a vehicle of truth. Poor atheistic man, whose practice still Belies the language of his lips, was made To know, even from the perishable grass, One common Providence is over all. NATURE'S MUSIC. There 's music in the winds that sweep So piercing o'er the hills — There 's music in the foaming deep, And in the flowing rills : Around us, on the wings of air. Are strains of music floating there. 119 Efje ^artnu : "^ Coilcr tion of jTIoSBcrs AN ODE FOE, THE FOURTH OF JULY. Hark ! — the jubilant songs of our Freemen are heard, And loud hallelujahs arise, Each patriot's bosom is thrill' d with the word, That our Nation is blest; And the star-spangled banner, which ever must wave « O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave," Still floats in the breeze. And shades the low spot where her patriots rest. The thunder-toned cannon o'er mountains and plains, — Proclaims the return of the day When our country was sever'd from tyranny's chains, And our land became free — When the bold sons of Liberty valiantly rose, With armour and shield to combat with their foes In martial array, And fought, bled, and died— to achieve liberty ! — Behold those brave heroes on Lexington's plains, When that hamlet was burn'd to the ground ; How bravely they stood by its smoking remains When her citizens fell, And the earth became tinged with the blood of the brave- The night-bird now mournfully sings by their grave, 120 (Satfjcrrli in tfje ?[13Ilas=sitic. And her low, plaintive sound, Wakes the lonely retreat where those noble men dwell. But the clashing of armour hath all pass'd away, And the struggle for freedom is o'er — No gushing of life-blood is here seen to-day ; While the flag of the free Waves proudly and gloriously over the land Which once was oppress'd by cold tyranny's hand, And thraldom no more Shall stain the gonfalon of our Liberty. The shouts of ten thousands ascend to the skies In triumphs for victories won, And loud acclamations of millions arise To swell the glad song Of a nation set free, — and the fervor to save Inextinguishably burns in the breasts of the brave — And truly there 's none Who will not, rejoicing, her glory prolong. Rise, gallants of freedom, with helmet and shield, And wide be your banners unfurl'd, As when you expell'd the grand foe from the field, And the tyrant, aghast, Turn'd again to the land that is ruled by a king. While we in loud anthems our freedom can sing. Each part of the world Owns Columbia /ree — independent, at last. L 121 Ei)z parterre: a (Collection of JTlofners Let your cannon's loud thunder resound through the land In tones of rejoicing to-day ! And the trumpets declare that no Britan7i,ic band Shall martial our coast : While our banners still wave o'er the land of the free, America e'er independent shall be ! And no foreign array Shall dampen the vigor with which we now boast. TO THE ORIOLE. — A LAY. Fly home, gentle bird, to thy own native land, "Where the primrose and violets spring, Where the soft, evening zephyrs, salubriously bland. And songsters melodiously sing: To the land where the orange and lemon trees bloom. And the daisy and orabanche rise, Exhaling their fragrance in richest perfume. From the lily-deck'd vale, to the skies. ffiatl)crcti bji tfje ?12Eaii:sitic. TO LYRA. I SEE thee set, thou lovely star, I see thy light expire — As down the western hills afar, Thy radiant beams retire. I 've watch'd thee, when the firmament Glowed with a thousand beams — When star by star, in their descent, Were mirror'd in the streams. And oft I 've thought — how lovely fair Thy chariot-car must be, As gently through the ambient air Thy rays fall on the sea. And when I see thee set, sweet star, Thy light to fade away, I think of one that is afar. Who loves thy cheering ray. How oft upon thee, tve have gazed When all above was bright, When rivulets and rills were bathed In thy soft mellow light. 123 Sr^c parterre : a (JfToIkctton of jFlo&jers THE RETURNING PRODIGAL. Far from his home, his country, and his friends, A stranger, in a stranger's land he roam'd, — And when the pomp of Earth's luxuriant domes Had mock'd his proud design — he bitterly- Repented of the evil he had done. Sore pestilence and famine strew'd the land With desolation, — and anon he felt His riches and his reputation gone ! Debased in sack-cloth and forlorn in tears. The prodigal in bitterness exclaim'd : — " How many servants in my father's house Have bread enough to satiate their wants, While I am starving in a foreign land ! I will arise and wipe away my tears — I '11 bid my sorrow and my anguish cease. And straightway to my father will return, — And though, unfit to be a legal heir, I '11 seek a servant's place — for I have sinn'd Against my father's will, and now, alas ! Am no more worthy to be call'd his son." The father strain'd his aching gaze beyond The myrtle forests and the orange groves, 124 (SatfjrrrlJ hQ tfjc Witiiusitie. To where the perfumes of the orabanche Exhaled its fragrance to the balmy winds, And fraught each zephyr with its incense rare. Pale, and dejected — lo ! he saw his son Pensive and sad, returning to his home With downcast look, expressing deep regret. The father saw him — and with sympathy, In eager haste, embraced and kiss'd his son. The son exclaim'd in mournful words and meek — " I am not worthy to be call'd thy son ; Assign to me a menial's lowly lot !" But, when the father heard his contrite tale, His heart began to yearn with tenderness, And said,-^" Place on his hand a golden ring — Rejoice, and be exceeding glad with me ! My son was dead — but yet he lives again ! Was lost — but has at length returned, — prepare The fatted calf — and let it now be slain — Arise, rejoice, and keep this festival In fond remembrance of my son's return.'* 'Tis thus the Lord in tenderness and love Invites poor sinners to the gospel feast. To satiate their longing appetites With food ambrosial from the Tree of Life : " Come unto me, and I will give you rest, — Will save you from eternal misery. And fill your souls with all the life of love, And wipe all tears from sorrow's weeping eyes." L2 125 ffl;f)e ^parterre: ^ Collection of jTIoiners BE BOLD! Up, sons of toil ! assert your right ; Put down the tyrant's power ; Rise in your majesty and might, And shrink as slaves no more. Delay no longer ! danger spreads Its snares along your way. The wily fiend of Avarice treads Upon your necks to-day ! The cherish'd things you prize so high. Your country and your hearth, Protect them, freemen, for they are The dearest things of earth. Around their sacred altars rise Songs of delight and joy As incense offerings to the skies, Pure, and without alloy. But when Oppression's iron car Sweeps o'er that happy throng. How do the sweetest accents jar. That trembled in their song ! Then, in your majesty arise, Put on your sword and shield ; And, if you move at all, advance. But never, never yield ! 126 (Satljcrfti 632 tfjc CMan^sitif. THE INEBRIATE'S GRAVE. There is one spot — one little spot of earth, Sacred to memory, and to friendship dear, Where woodbines twine their leafy tendrils 'round The antique walls that circumscribe the place. The willows' boughs in pendent posture hang Ahove that lonely consecrated spot. And 'mong their branches, in the time of flowers. The warbling linnet's cheerful songs are heard. An aged woman, bending down with care. With hoary locks, and palsied step and slow, — When Eve her silver-draperied curtain draws In silent grandeur, round the western world, — Repairs to wet that hallow'd ground with tears. The night winds bear upon their ether wings The fragrant breath of orange groves and bowers. And play familiar with her silvery curls. — But pause ! a tear-drop trembles in her eye — A tear that speaks the language of her soul — That stirs the fountain of remembrance up. And calls to mind the days and years that were. She cries " My son ! my son !" and on the air In deep and mournful iteration comes The echo back, responsive to her call. In deeper accents still, " My son ! my son !" L2 127 E^c ^artcrvc. Now the low winds sigh o'er that little mound, And in soft murmurs, whisper as they pass Sic transit gloria mundi, — while her tears Fall thick and warm upon the drunkard's grave. THERE IS MUSIC IN EVERYTHING There is music in the breeze Floating gently through the trees ; In the twitter of the birds Singing sweetly in the woods. There is music everywhere, In the waters, in the air — On the mountains, in the sea, There is music, wild and free. Music, music, soft and low, Cheers the pilgrim here below — Soothes the heart with sorrow riven, Points the Christian up to Heaven. May sweet music, when I die, Charm my spirit to the sky, And conduct me through the air. Free from sorrow and despair ! FINIS. 128 Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process. Neutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide Treatment Date: Sept. 2009 PreservationTechnologies A V,?ORLD LEADER IN COLLECTIONS PRESERVATION 111 Thomson Park Drive Cranberry Township, PA 16056 (724) 779-2111