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 Wj^j*^ 'vM. 
 
POEMS 
 
 33 A. L L A. D S 
 
 BY 
 
 EMELINE SHERMAN SMITH. 
 
 •• One may well Wess God thai Poetry in in itself strength and jay, ivhether it ba 
 crowned ly all mankind, oi- left alone in its own mayic hei-mitage." 
 
 Ucto gorli: 
 
 RUDD & CAELETON, 310 BROADWAY. 
 iMDCCCUX. 
 
\;:>ZKb'i 
 
 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1859, by 
 
 JAMES M. SMITH, Jr. , 
 
 In the Clerk's Ofllce of the District Court of the United States, for the 
 Southern District of New York. 
 
 6 516 3 
 
 FEB 17 1941 
 
^ 
 
 
 TABLE OF CONTENTS. 
 
 PAOB 
 
 Preface ....•• 
 
 
 — 
 
 Invocation .... 
 
 
 
 
 11 
 
 Death of the Robin . 
 
 
 
 
 15 
 
 The Boy-Hero 
 
 
 
 
 17 
 
 Address to Sleep 
 
 
 
 
 19 
 
 The Fairy Gift 
 
 
 
 
 22 
 
 Ticonderoga ^T 
 
 
 
 
 27 
 
 Dream of a Happy Heart 
 
 
 
 
 33 
 
 To a Tuberose 
 
 
 
 
 37 
 
 The Thistle Blossom . 
 
 
 
 
 39 
 
 Sky-Light 
 
 
 
 
 42 
 
 To the Hudson River 
 
 
 
 
 44 
 
 The Tear 
 
 
 
 
 46 
 
 An Evening Reverie . 
 
 
 
 
 48 
 
 We Are No Longer Young . 
 
 
 
 
 50 
 
 i/Lines on the Death of Webster ' ^ 
 
 
 
 
 53 
 
 The Marble Statue 
 
 
 
 
 58 
 
 Cups of Gold . 
 
 
 
 
 63 
 
 The Robin's Hymn of Joy 
 
 
 
 
 72 
 
 Sister Rose 
 
 
 
 
 74 
 
 Birth-day Verses 
 
 
 
 
 82 
 
 My Children . 
 
 
 
 
 84 
 
 The Wooing . 
 
 
 
 
 87 
 
 The Red Rose and the White 
 
 
 
 
 91 
 
 The Little Trout's Soliloquy 
 
 
 
 
 94 
 
 Thoughts in a Forest 
 
 
 
 
 97 
 
vi CONTENTS, 
 
 PAGE 
 
 The Child- Poet 99 
 
 Bunker Hill 
 
 
 
 
 . 102 
 
 John Quiiicy Ailain3 . 
 
 
 
 
 
 . 112 
 
 Tlie Lover's Rock , 
 
 
 
 
 
 . 115 
 
 The J5i-ook 
 
 
 
 
 
 . 123 
 
 The Maiden's Secret . 
 
 
 
 
 
 126 
 
 The Life-Kiss 
 
 
 
 
 
 128 
 
 Pygnialiou 
 
 
 
 
 
 133 
 
 The Mettawee 
 
 
 
 
 
 . 138 
 
 " Life in Death" 
 
 
 
 
 
 . 140 
 
 Adaionition 
 
 
 
 
 
 144 
 
 A Tliought . 
 
 
 
 
 
 146 
 
 Graves by the Sea-Side 
 
 
 
 
 
 147 
 
 Mary Russell Mitford 
 
 
 
 
 
 151 
 
 " Over the Brook" 
 
 
 
 
 
 154 
 
 The Poet and the Sparrow . 
 
 
 
 
 
 157 
 
 The Modern Martyr . 
 
 
 
 
 
 161 
 
 f iriniis anb Bm^$, 
 
 
 Hymn to the Deity 
 
 . 167 
 
 Hymn to the Passing Year . 
 
 
 
 270 
 
 Song. — " "We've Had our Share of Bliss" 
 
 
 
 173 
 
 Song of the Sea 
 
 
 
 175 
 
 Song of the Summer Flowers 
 
 
 
 179 
 
 Tlie Mother's Hymn .... 
 
 
 
 ISl 
 
 The Misanthrope's Song 
 
 
 
 183 
 
 Love Song • • . . . 
 
 
 
 186 
 
 Boat Song • • . . , 
 
 
 
 188 
 
 An Lidiau Mother's Lament . 
 
 
 
 190 
 
 Ode for the Fourth of July . 
 
 
 
 192 
 
 The Hymn of Joy .... 
 
 
 
 194 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 vii 
 
 
 PAG8 
 
 Song 
 
 . 197 
 
 The Rover's Serenade .... 
 
 . 199 
 
 A Hymn of Thanks ..... 
 
 . 201 
 
 Dirge for a Departing Race .... 
 
 . 203 
 
 ^Ire Miiitcr Mreatl]. 
 
 
 The Aiitiimu Wind ..... 
 
 . 209 
 
 The Bird of Passage . . ! . . 
 
 . 213 
 
 Our Christmas Morn . . . . . 
 
 217 
 
 Thoughts in Winter ..... 
 
 . 219 
 
 Tlie Dawn of Day ..... 
 
 . 221 
 
 Solitude ...... 
 
 . 225 
 
 Tlie Wandering Dove .... 
 
 223 
 
 Our Beloved One 
 
 231 
 
 The Mother's Dream . . . , 
 
 233 
 
 Address to Time ..... 
 
 239 
 
 The Mourner ..... 
 
 243 
 
 To Lillie in Heaven ..... 
 
 245 
 
 ".yords of Cheer 
 
 249 
 
 ^t fiirir's icartlr. 
 
 ' 
 
 The Fairy's Search ...... 
 
 255 
 
 llistclliiiicous liftcs. 
 
 
 The Poet's Appeal ...... 
 
 284 
 
 The American Indians . . . . . 
 
 2SG 
 
 The Happy Band . . . . 
 
 289 
 
 "Her Eye is undimm'd" . . . . . 
 
 293 
 
 The Beacon ....... 
 
 295 
 
viii 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 
 
 
 PAGB 
 
 Sunlight and SliaJow ..... 299 
 
 Tlie Lost Spirit of Youth 
 
 
 
 
 . 302 
 
 Lines for an Album . 
 
 
 
 
 304 
 
 Genius 
 
 
 
 
 
 . 305 
 
 The Burning Boat 
 
 
 
 
 
 307 
 
 The Spirit of Spring 
 
 
 
 
 
 310 
 
 The Stormy Petrel 
 
 
 
 
 
 313 
 
 The Pet Rabbits 
 
 
 
 
 
 . 315 
 
 Autumn Musings 
 
 
 
 
 
 317 
 
 Cecelia 
 
 
 
 
 
 320 
 
 Books 
 
 
 
 
 
 323 
 
 A Portrait 
 
 
 
 
 
 324 
 
 American Liberty 
 
 
 
 
 
 327 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 The bards of by-gone days, with souls inspired 
 By lofty themes, chanted most noble strains — 
 Strains so sublime the listening world did pause, 
 As lost in mute delight. They sang of "War, 
 And all its fervid joys — sang the great deeds 
 Of martyr-men, who gave, 'mid torturing wounds 
 And bitter woes, their heart's last throbbing prayers 
 To Freedom's sacred cause — then, smiling, died, 
 And left behind them names that evermore. 
 Like starry orbs, illum'd the realm of Thought. 
 These bards of old, in tuneful numbers sang 
 The fate of Nations too — sang of their rise. 
 Their glory, their renown ; then sadly sang 
 The story of their swift and sure decline. 
 As Pomp and Pride and Luxury crept in, 
 To undermine the fair and stately towers 
 That self-denying Virtue, frugal Toil, 
 And patient Industry had slowly reared. 
 Oh! these majestic masters of the lyre ! 
 Well they fulfilled their noble mission here. 
 
viii PREFACE. 
 
 They cliarmcd the world's large heart with Truth's pure lore; 
 They taught great lessons to mankiud, and crowned 
 The hoary Years with Wisdom. 
 
 Fain would I 
 Catch the proud spirit of those deathless strains, 
 And waken notes that Fame's resounding voice 
 Might waft adown the rolling flood of Time. 
 
 But this may never be — My soul is formed 
 
 For other thoughts and themes. I may not tune 
 
 My votive lyre in harmony with those 
 
 Whose grand reverberations echo yet, 
 
 To speak the power of those long-vanished bards. 
 
 The stately Muse that wakes heroic song, 
 
 Comes not to me as erst she came to them — 
 
 A proud Minerva, leaping into life 
 
 Full-grown, and panoplied for mighty deeds. 
 
 Lo ! at my call a gentler being comes ! 
 
 As from the swelling ocean waves once rose 
 
 The Goddess of Delight, so from the sea 
 
 Of billowy Thought that surges in my breast. 
 
 Uprises to my view a shape serene — 
 
 Spirit of Poesy I Divinest guest 
 
 That visits this sad earth, — thy smiling eyes 
 
F 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 Flood all my soul with light ; thy dulcet voice, 
 Sweeter than lulling waters, heard at eve, 
 Falling in far-off glens — thrills every chord 
 Of my enraptured heart. Thou bidst me slug — 
 I hear thee name, in softly whispered words, 
 The very themes that haunt, by day and night, 
 Like restless ghosts the chambers of my brain. 
 With reverent soul I bow to thy behest. 
 Oh, gentle Spirit, and attune my lyre 
 To sing the changeful scenes of human life — 
 Its hopes and fears; its sunny moods of joy, 
 And sacred hours of G rief 
 
 Reader, scorn not 
 These unambitious themes. The tiniest flower 
 That lifts its modest head above the earth, 
 Oft in its bosom hides the sweetest scent. 
 Tlie simplest tune that ever minstrel played 
 May sound the key-note to unnumbered hearts : 
 And household lays, tho' framed with little skill, 
 And unadorned by imagery sublime. 
 May go abroad, like sober-vestured nuns, 
 To do great deeds of charity, and speak 
 
P II E F A C E. 
 
 Comfort to suffering souls. — Small are the seeds, 
 
 Most small and light, tliat -nanderiug winds do waft 
 
 To desert isles — yet, mark liow far they go, 
 
 And what a holy ministry is theirs! 
 
 To warm, to quicken in the ungenial soil, 
 
 To bud and bloom and hang on flinty rocks 
 
 Garlands of living beauty ! — Thus, perchance, 
 
 These wandering seeds of Poesy may go 
 
 To darkened homes, to ftxr-off, sad abodes, 
 
 And, falling there on hearts that Grief has seared, 
 
 They may (oh, happy thought !) in that chill soil 
 
 Implant the tender germ of Hope once more, 
 
 And bid the smiling flowers of sweet Content 
 
 And holy Resignation bloom again. 
 
_- 
 
 POEM S. 
 
 INVOCATION. 
 
 I. 
 
 Come from thy fairy realm of dreama; 
 
 Come from thy haunted cell, 
 Sweet Poesy, and o'er me breathe 
 
 Thy soft beguiling spell. 
 Come, let the magic of thy smile 
 
 Inspiring fancies bring ; 
 Come, lend the music of thy voice 
 
 To aid me while I sing. 
 
 II. 
 
 Thou wert with me — oh, spirit fair ! 
 
 In childhood's happy day — 
 I felt thy mystic presence oft, 
 
 Amid my careless play ; 
 
12 I N Y C A T I N. 
 
 And loved o'cu then the uuknowu good, 
 The sweet, though viewless power. 
 
 That bade me see such wondrous charms 
 lu every opeuuig flower. 
 
 III. 
 
 In youth's enchanted season, too, 
 
 Thou wert forever near, 
 Whispering angelic melodies 
 
 To my enraptured ear ; 
 More eloquent than burning words 
 
 Traced by a lover's pen. 
 More tuneful, far, than minstrel's lyre 
 
 Wert thou, dear spirit, then. 
 
 IV. 
 
 And, in the later, darker days, 
 
 When Care had saddened Thought, 
 Thou wert the friend whose accents still 
 
 Sweet consolation brought: 
 Thou wert the anchor of my hope, 
 
 The angel of my home — 
 Where thou did'st smile, no bitter tear, 
 
 No sinful dream could come. 
 
INVOCATION. 10 
 
 Y. 
 Thou bad'st me fiud iu every ill 
 
 Its owa ennobling cure ; 
 Thou bad'st me learn from sorrow's page, 
 
 A lesson high and pure. 
 Thou taught'st that every erring heart 
 
 Some germ of good enshrined ; 
 Thou gavest me too the golden key 
 
 This hidden germ to fiud. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Thou bad'st me hear in murmuring winds 
 
 In ocean's plaintive chime, 
 As in the planets' solemn march 
 
 A melody sublime. 
 Thou bad'st me love the lowliest flower, 
 
 That deck'd the path I trod ; 
 Thou wert the grand Interpreter 
 
 Of Nature's unseen Gron. 
 
 YII. 
 
 Oh, teacher of my early hours! 
 
 Oh, lover of my youth ! 
 Oh, friend most tried, still let me claim 
 
 Thy constancy and truth. 
 
14 INVOCATION. 
 
 Still let the fading flowers of Thought 
 
 Be nurtured by thy smile ; 
 Still linger near, and let thy voice 
 
 Life's gathering cares beguile. 
 
 viir. 
 
 Then shall I yet in every scene 
 
 The Beautiful behold ; 
 And trace, in all earth's wayward hearts, 
 
 The virtues they enfold. 
 Then shall I keep the holy faith 
 
 My sinless childhood knew, 
 And nearer draw to thy High Source, 
 
 Thou Spirit pure and true. 
 
DEATH OF THE ROBIN. 
 I. 
 
 From liis sweet banquet, 'mid the perfumed clover, 
 
 A robiu soared and sung ; 
 Never tlie voice of liappy bard or lover, 
 
 Sucli peals of gladness rung. 
 Lone Echo, loitering by the distant bill-side, 
 
 Or hiding in the glen. 
 Caught up, with thirsting lip, the tide of sweetness. 
 
 Then bade it flow again. 
 
 II. 
 
 The summer air was flooded with the music ; 
 
 "Winds held their breath to hear ; 
 And blushing wild-flowers hung their heads, enamoured, 
 
 To list that "joyance clear." 
 Just then from neighboring covert rudely ringing. 
 
 Broke forth discordant sound. 
 And wily fowler, from his ambush springing, 
 
 Gazed eagerly around. 
 
 III. 
 Still upward thro' the air that yet was thrilling 
 To his melodious lay, 
 
IG THE ROBIN. 
 
 One instant longer, on a trembling pinion, 
 
 The robin cleaved his way. 
 But, ah ! the death shot rankled in his bosom ! 
 
 His life of song was o'er ! 
 Back — back to earth, from out his heavenward pathway 
 He fell to rise no more ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 A sudden silence chilled the heart of Nature, — 
 
 Leaf, blossom, bird and bee. 
 Seemed each, in startled hush, to mourn the pausing 
 
 Of that sweet minstrelsy ; 
 And Echo, breathless in her secret dwelling, 
 
 Like love-lorn maid, in vain 
 Waited and listened long, to catch the accents, 
 She ne'er might hear again. 
 
 V. 
 
 Oh bird ! sweet poet of the summer woodlands ! 
 
 How like tliy lay to those 
 Of tuneful Bards, whose songs begun in gladness, 
 
 Have oft the saddest close! 
 Thus many a strain of human love and rapture. 
 
 Poured from a fond, full heart, 
 Hath been, in one wild moment, hushed forever 
 
 By sorrow's fatal dart. 
 
THE BOY- HERO.* 
 
 I. 
 
 A father and his little son 
 
 On wintry waves were sailing : 
 
 Fast from their way the light of day, 
 In cloud and gloom was failing ; 
 
 And fiercely round their lonely boat 
 The stormy winds were wailing. 
 
 n. 
 
 They knew that peril hovered near — 
 They prayed, " Oh ! Heaven deliver !" 
 
 But a wilder blast came howling past, 
 And soon with sob and shiver, 
 
 They struggled in the icy grasp 
 Of that dark rushing river. 
 
 HI. 
 
 " Cling fast to me, my darling child," 
 An anguished voice was crying; 
 
 While silvery clear, o'er tempest drear, 
 Rose softer tones replying, 
 
 * The incident related in this little ballad is strictly true. 
 2 
 
THE BOY-IIERO. 
 
 IV. 
 
 '• Oil, mind not me, my father dear, 
 
 I'm not afraid of dying — 
 Oh, mind not me — but save yourself 
 
 For mother's sake, dear father — 
 Leave me, and hasten to the shore. 
 
 Or who will comfort mother ?" 
 
 V. 
 
 The angel forms that ever wait 
 
 Unseen, on man attendant, 
 Flew up o'erjoyed to Heaven's bright gate, 
 
 And there, on page resplendent, 
 
 High over those of heroes bold 
 
 And martyrs famed in story. 
 They wrote the name of that brave boy 
 
 And wreathed it round with glory. 
 
 YI. 
 
 " God bless the child !" Ay, He did bless 
 
 That noble self-denial ; 
 And safely bore him to the shore. 
 
 Thro' tempest, toil, and trial. 
 Soon, in their happy, tranquil home, 
 
 Son, sire, and that dear mother 
 For whose sweet sake so much was done, 
 
 In rapture met each other. 
 
ADDRESS TO SLEEP. 
 
 Thou sliadowy realm ! tliou mystic border-land 
 "Twixt Life and Death, how solemn are thy shores! 
 Into their varied scenes, imchained, and free, 
 The spirit nightly goes — Scorning the laws 
 Which rule its earth-born frame, it soars away 
 Like an unfettered bird. Wliat if the soul. 
 That thus in venturous voyages wanders far, 
 Should linger on its airy pilgrimage 
 And never more return ? Such thoughts will come 
 To mingle with our vesper hymns and prayers — 
 Such thought adds solemn import to the spell, 
 That wafts us from this wondrous waking life 
 To one more wondrous still. Lo ! angel shapes 
 Do come to greet us in this land of dreams ! 
 Are these unreal shadows — children, born 
 Of the capricious movements of the brain? 
 Xo — rather let us deem them beings sent 
 From some diviner realm, to smile away 
 The secret griefs of this. Ofttimes they wear 
 The semblance of some well-beloved form 
 Whose steps once gladdened earth with echoes sweet 
 That now are heard no more. Oh ! gentle Sleep, 
 
20 TO SLEEP 
 
 How dear tliou art, when thou dost lead the soul 
 
 Into the presence of its loved and lost ! 
 
 The day hath still its vexing cares and thoughts : 
 
 But Night^ — calm, holy Night, doth ever bring 
 
 Folded in her dark robes an angel bright : 
 
 And when this angel bends above our couch 
 
 Or softly breathes upon our throbbing brow, 
 
 AVhat marvellous change is wrought ! The weary frame 
 
 That,like a goodly bark, hath all day long 
 
 Breasted the waves of Care, lies moored at last 
 
 Upon a quiet shore — while the brave soul, 
 
 Th' adventurous soul that never sleeps or tires, 
 
 Like a bold mariner without a chart. 
 
 Goes forth to traverse fav off, boundless realms. 
 
 Oh ! beautiful as something yet untold 
 
 Are the sweet fairy isles this voyager finds 
 
 In the bright clime of dreams ! There the pure skies 
 
 Are never dimmed by clouds. There, on the wings 
 
 Of every wandering breeze, celestial strains 
 
 Of magic music float. There blossom flowers 
 
 Which do not droop or fade — and there, oh ! there 
 
 The hand of Death comes not to rend away 
 
 Those clinging tendrils, whicli so closely wind 
 
 About the loving heart. 
 
 Bless thee, sweet Sleep ! 
 Thou comest with the balmy dew of heaven — 
 
T S L E E p. 21 
 
 Like that thou bringest life anew to earth. 
 
 From the black wing of Darkness thou dost smile 
 
 Like a pure star-beam from a stormy cloud. 
 
 Thou art a ministering angel unto man : 
 
 The weary welcome thee with languid thoughts 
 
 That shape themselves to prayers ; and sorrowing hearts 
 
 Woo the Enchantress whose soft spell can work 
 
 The miracle that gives them back, once more, 
 
 The treasures Death had stol'n. The happy, too, 
 
 Receive thee gratefully, for thy SAvect dreams, 
 
 Like echoes of rich music, breathe again 
 
 The tuneful story of the day's delight. 
 
 And, by most wondrous process, oft renew 
 
 The broken links of joy. 
 
 Celestial Sleep, 
 Let me await thee reverently, as one 
 Who may unveil the mysteries which lie 
 Beyond this mortal sphere. Let evil thoughts, 
 Let sin and wrong and all uncharity 
 Be banished from the heart, ere it receive 
 So beautiful a guest. Let earnest prayer 
 Make pure the spirit, ere it venture forth 
 With the bright angel who may yield his trust 
 To his pale brother Death before the morn. 
 
THE FAIPtY GIFT. 
 
 I. 
 
 In the summer's lin2:erino: twilinrht, 
 
 A tliouglitful little child 
 Stole from her village playmates, 
 
 To a i)athway lone ami -wilcl. 
 Far from her young companions, 
 
 Far from her home she strayed, 
 Unmindful of the distance, 
 
 Unwearied, undismayed. 
 As a floating cloud moves on\Yard 
 
 To the breathings of the wind, 
 So she, to some soft impulse 
 
 That swayed her musing mind. 
 
 II. 
 
 She passed the distant woodland ; 
 
 She climbed the hill's far hight ; 
 Then paused, to send adown the vale 
 
 A gaze of calm delight. — 
 Tho' but a child in seeminof, 
 
 Yet solitude and tears 
 Had ripened in her spirit 
 
 The fruits of later years. — 
 
THE FAIRY GIFT. 23 
 
 Well might she note the loveliness 
 Of that calm twilight hour, 
 
 For Poesy o'erfilled her soul, 
 As dew an opening flower. 
 
 III. 
 
 The hues of glorious beauty 
 
 Now mantling hill and plain, 
 Thrilled the fine chords of feeling 
 
 Like a magic music-strain. 
 She drank such floods of rapture 
 
 From that landscape wide and bright, 
 That her tender heart grew saddened 
 
 "With its burden of delight ; 
 And, like an early violet 
 
 On which the rain is shed, 
 Her fragile form sank down, oppress'd 
 
 On that green, mossy bed. 
 
 IV. 
 
 She slept — and in her slumber 
 
 A fairy form drew nigh, 
 Which wore to that young dreamer, 
 
 The glory of the sky — 
 It bent above the sleeper ; 
 
 It whispered soft and low, 
 
24 T H E F A I R Y G I F T. 
 
 " I can, on all Earth's children, 
 
 Some precious gift bestow. 
 Then tell me, little maiden, 
 
 Ay, tell me, frank and free. 
 What beauteous trinket, toy or flower 
 
 Wouldst thou receive from me? " 
 
 V. 
 
 The dreamer gently answered — 
 
 (Grazing always in those eyes. 
 Whose wondrous beauty charmed her 
 
 Like stars in cloudless skies) 
 " I wish no gem, bright spirit, 
 
 No flower, or trinket fair ; 
 I crave a boon more precious, 
 
 A gift more rich and rare. 
 Grant me the poet's wondrous skill. 
 
 His tuneful power to tell 
 The strange, sweet thoughts, and mystic dreams 
 
 That in my bosom dwell." 
 
 VI. 
 
 Then sighed, and said the fairy, 
 
 " A solemn boon is this, 
 Wliicb thy young heart bclieveth 
 
 Will brina: unmine-lcd bliss — 
 
1 
 
 THE FAIRY GIFT. 
 
 25 
 
 For clouded skies, aud shadowed paths 
 
 
 To poets oft belong; 
 
 
 And countless drops of sorrow fall 
 
 
 To swell the tide of song." 
 
 
 YII. 
 
 
 " I shi-ink not from the shadows, 
 
 
 Kind fairy — ^nor from pain, 
 
 
 Methinks they would but aid my soul 
 
 
 To wake more tuneful strain. 
 
 
 Oh, let me bear the poet's lot, 
 
 
 However dark or sad, 
 
 
 And like the wood-bird in the storm, 
 
 
 My lay shall make it glad." 
 
 
 Tin. 
 
 
 " Still must I pause young maiden— 
 
 
 The boon you ask of me 
 
 
 Is so divine, so holy. 
 
 
 That it must ever be 
 
 
 Devoted to high uses, 
 
 
 And kept with watchful care, 
 
 
 Lest earthly stain or blemish 
 
 
 Should mar its beauty rare." 
 
 
 1 
 
26 T II E r A I R Y G I F T. 
 
 IX. 
 
 "Trust me, thou gracious spirit, — 
 
 I know its lieavenly birth, 
 And I will keep the hallowed gift 
 
 As one of priceless worth. 
 Pure thoughts, emotions holy, 
 
 And lofty themes alway 
 Shall be in joy or sorrow, 
 
 The key-notes of my lay. 
 Far from the worldling's thouo-htless sonj;: 
 
 My grateful voice shall rise, 
 And float, like hymn of morning lark, 
 
 Up to the tranquil skies." 
 
 X. 
 
 Then brightly smiled that angel shape. 
 
 And touched the sleeper's hand. 
 When straightway, o'er her spirit rushed 
 
 The joys of fairy-laud — 
 That tide of sweet emotion 
 
 Dissolving Slumber's chain, 
 She woke to find Night's sable robe. 
 
 Had mantled hill and plain ; 
 But, cheeril}^ and bravely 
 She trod her homeward way. 
 For on her path there shone a light 
 More beautiful than day. 
 
TICONDEROGA. 
 
 "WRITTEN IN VIEW OF THE RUINED FORT. 
 
 Traveler, roaming far and wide, 
 Linger here by Cliamplain's tide ; 
 "Watch these peaceful waters glide 
 By yon mount, grass-grown and hoary, 
 By you ruin, famed in story, 
 Famed for deeds of martial glory — 
 
 Old Ticouderoga. 
 
 Once the voice of War was here — 
 Bugle notes rang loud and clear ; 
 Cannon thundered far and near. 
 Ouce the victor's thrilling cry; 
 Once the wounded soldier's sigh 
 Wakened Echo's wild reply 
 
 In Ticonderoga. 
 
 Now how changed is all the scene ! 
 Lo, the grass springs, fresh and green, 
 Where the scorching flames have been ! 
 Now, instead of crimson stain. 
 Summer's gentle dew and rain 
 Nurture wild flowers on the plain 
 
 'Round Ticonderoga. 
 
28 
 
 T I C N D E n G A. 
 
 On tliose towers, where buimers gay 
 Floated in a by-gone day, 
 Now soft breezes gently sway 
 Creeping vines that darkly fall 
 O'er each monldcring arch and wall, 
 Shrouding thus, in fitting pall 
 
 Old Ticondcroga. 
 
 Now, in place of bayonets bright 
 Flashing back the sunbeam's light, 
 And telling tales of coming fight, 
 See dark mullein stalks appear 
 Rising grimly, brown and sere — 
 Silent sentries watching here 
 
 At Ticondcroira. 
 
 Hark ! instead of trump and drum 
 What melodious murmurs come ! 
 First the wild bee's drowsy hum, 
 Then a cricket's cheerful strain. 
 Then a robin's sweet refrain 
 Wakens Echo's voice again 
 
 In Ticonderoga. 
 
 Ay ! this old deserted place 
 Is peopled with a busy race. — 
 Thronging troops, and armies, rife 
 
TICONDEROGA. 29 
 
 With the mystic pulse of life, 
 Move and meet, but not in strife, 
 
 At Ticouderoga. 
 
 Tread upon this grassy mound — 
 Straightway springing from the ground, 
 Hosts of insects flutter 'round. 
 Look ye, in the moat below 
 Frogs are leaping to and fro. 
 While, unquestioned, come and go 
 Reptile-bands, that, creeping slow, 
 
 Scale Ticonderoga. 
 
 Busy spiders spin their thread 
 Over apertures whence sped 
 Cannon ball on mission dread. 
 Perfumed flower-bells incense fling 
 On the breeze, and softly ring 
 Requiems for the slumbering 
 
 Of Ticonderoga. 
 
 Low the western sun declines — 
 Faint its parting radiance shines 
 Over Glory's crumbling shrines : 
 Like the love-light of a dream 
 Fadeth now the roseate beam — 
 Not so fades the witching theme 
 
 Of Ticonderoga. 
 
30 T I C N D E R G A. 
 
 As the twiliglit shadows fall 
 Dai'kly o'er each mouldering wall, 
 Dreaming Fancy loves to call 
 Spirit-forms from spirit-land, 
 'Till again a mighty band 
 Seems, in martial pomp, to stand 
 
 In Ticouderoga. 
 
 Every tree with outstretched limb, 
 Every shrub of outline dim 
 Is a warrior tall and grim ; 
 Every night-bird's mournful strain 
 Is a cry of mortal pain — 
 "War's wild accents breathed again 
 
 At Ticonderoga. 
 
 Surely this is haunted ground ! 
 Spirit-voices echo round. 
 Telling tales, in solemn sound, 
 Of the days when freemen stood 
 Battling for their country's good — 
 Buying Liberty with blood 
 
 At Ticonderoga. 
 
 Valor's deeds are still sublime — 
 Still they gleam in every clime, 
 "Watch-lights on the shores of Time. 
 Such pure beacon-flames are here, 
 
T I C N D E R G A. 31 
 
 Shining on from year to year, 
 Making every memory dear 
 
 Of Ticonderoga. 
 
 Nature consecrates the sod 
 By a hero's footsteps trod, 
 Ere his soul went up to God. 
 Nature bids us hallow still, 
 Every battle plain or hill 
 That can make the pulses thrill 
 
 Like Ticonderoga. 
 
 Here, where patriot-blood was shed ; 
 Here where brave men bowed the head, 
 Let us still with reverence tread. 
 Here let Thought with fervor burn, 
 Here let wandering pilgrims turn — 
 Lofty lessons they may learn 
 
 At Ticonderoga. 
 
 Now with musing step and slow, 
 From this witching scene we go — 
 Hark! the winds breathe dirges low, 
 And the soft Avaves beating time. 
 Waken elegies sublime. 
 Elegies that long shall chime 
 
 Near Ticonderoga. 
 
32 TICONDEROGA. 
 
 Fare thee Trell, tliou ruin hoary ! 
 Thou shalt still be crowned -with glory ; 
 Thou shalt live in gong and story. 
 Oft shall patriot bosoms bound 
 As the minstrel breathes around 
 Tribute to thy hallowed ground, 
 
 Old Ticonderosa. 
 
DKEAM OF A HAPPY HEART 
 
 I. 
 
 Ofttimes I have a A'ision, 
 
 In which I seem to stand 
 Amid the magic scenery 
 
 Of some old fairy -land — 
 Blue skies bend cloudless o'er me ; 
 
 Soft music fills the air ; 
 And Joy's sweet voice within me 
 
 Sings a lullaby to Care. 
 
 II. 
 
 Then earth is full of beauty, 
 
 And hearts are full of bliss; 
 And the radiant worlds above me 
 
 Look no lovelier than this. 
 Then in a haunted palace 
 
 I seem to live and move, 
 While near, and round about me 
 
 Gather beings whom I love. 
 
 III. 
 One comes, with stately presence, 
 To linger at my side ; 
 
34 T II E II A P P Y II E A R i . 
 
 Wliisperiug ever low and fondly 
 
 Like a lover to bis bride. 
 And one, a gentle maiden 
 With face serenely fair, 
 Bends on me looks as smiling 
 As sister-angels wear. 
 
 Two others, little fairies 
 
 Most beautiful and bright. 
 In this enchanted palace 
 
 Wake the echoes of delight : 
 Their childish hearts and voices 
 
 Are ever tuned to glee ; 
 And a name most sweet, most holy, 
 
 They both bestow on me. 
 
 V. 
 
 Within this pleasant mansion 
 
 Are pictures half divine ; — 
 Here radiant summer landscaf»es 
 
 In truthful brightness shine ; 
 Here witching types of women, 
 
 So life-like woo the eye. 
 They wake, as they were real. 
 
 Love's soft impassioned sigh. 
 
T II E II A r Pi- HE A K T. 35 
 
 VI. 
 Here forms of classic beauty — 
 
 Gems of creative art, 
 Thrill the deep chords of feeling 
 
 In the gazer's dreaming heart. 
 Here tomes of buried sages, 
 
 Or poet's tuneful lay, 
 Or History's stirring pages 
 
 Beguile the passing day. 
 
 YII. 
 
 And here, when Evening cometh, 
 
 Her shadows seem to call 
 A troop of joyous spirits 
 
 To grace the haunted hall: — 
 Bright flash the lamps above them ; 
 
 Bright sparkle eyes below; 
 While hearts and voices echo 
 
 Sweet Music's tuneful flow. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 When these festive hours are numbered 
 
 And the spirits fade away, 
 I do not wake in sorrow. 
 
 But, dreaming still, I pray 
 
36 THE HAPPY HEART. 
 
 That heaven will spare this vision 
 With holy sweetness rife, 
 
 Long, long to me unbroken, 
 For 't is my own calm life. 
 
 «f' 
 
TO A TUBEROSE. 
 
 What subtile spirit of deliglit dotli dwell 
 
 In thy soft breath, oh ! sweetest, sweetest flower ? 
 
 We drink its honied sighs, then drink again ; 
 
 And strive to turn away — yet lingering, stay. 
 
 Till the soul grows intoxicate with bliss. 
 
 Like the inebriate, who would fain escape 
 
 From the charmed cup that steals away his sense, 
 
 So from the fascination of thy spell. 
 
 We vainly seek to fly. — Oft must we turn 
 
 To quaff, once more, the nectar of that fount 
 
 Which, like a living spring, wells ever up 
 
 From thy heart's balmy depths. 
 
 Thou art twice-dowered, 
 Thou miracle of beauty and perfume ! 
 How lovely are thy rosy-tinted buds. 
 That seem to blush, in very consciousness 
 Of the sweet secret folded in their leaves. 
 As a young maiden blushes, e'en to think 
 On the fond love hid in her fluttering heart : — 
 And thy soft waxen flowers, so pure and pale, 
 So prodigal of the exhaustless wealth 
 That in them lies, they are, in very truth, 
 A "beauty and a mystery" — They awake 
 
38 T A T IT B E R S E. 
 
 Extatic dreams, as miglit a wandering strain 
 Of some wild melody heard from afar, 
 Upon a summer night, M'hen Nature's self 
 Has set our thoughts to music. 
 
 Wondrous flower ! 
 How should I marvel at thy magic spell, 
 Did I not know the Hand that fashioned thee 
 Could shape, with mighty skill, e'en rarer things — 
 Yes, I have known some hearts of liuman mould, 
 Whose gentle breathings were as pure and sweet, 
 And excellent as thine — Hearts that would give, 
 And give, like thee, their kindly treasures forth 
 To bless the admiring world — Hearts richly dowered 
 With wealth of virtue, as thyself with wealth 
 Of balmiest fragrance. Oh, to dwell 
 A-near such lofty natures, is to be 
 Upon the borders of an Eden land, 
 Whose airs are wafted to us, 'til we dream 
 Of tlie bright paradise from whence they came ! 
 I thank thee, eloquent wakener of pure tlioughts, 
 Tliat hast with passionate breathings, lured my mind 
 To contemplation of those rich, rare souls 
 Whose type thou art. From them I can but turn 
 To holier contemplation of the Power 
 Tliat made this fair, bright world, and peopled it 
 With flowers so beautiful, and hearts so good. 
 
THE THISTLE-BLOSSOM. 
 
 I. 
 
 In a beautiful meadow, daiutily spread 
 With clover-blossoms, wbite and red, 
 And sweet wild-flowers of varied hue, 
 An ugly thistle flourished too — 
 
 Loftily, there, 
 In the soft summer air, 
 Uprose its rude form o'er the fragrant and fair. 
 
 II. 
 
 Many a golden butterfly 
 Came, like a sunbeam, hovering nigh. 
 And one, the brightest of all his race 
 Folded his wing in that perilous place. 
 Why did he go. 
 This gaily dressed beau, 
 To a flower that was armed like a deadly foe ? 
 
 III. 
 
 A little ground sparrow, flitting near, 
 Sang aloud in the butterfly's ear, 
 
40 
 
 T H I S T L E - B L S S 31. 
 
 And kindly warned him to hasten away — 
 "Weaving these words in his tuneful lay — 
 
 " Foolish one flee ! 
 
 " Or soon you will be 
 " Pierced thro' by those countless thorns you see. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Beau-butterfly never heeded the song — 
 For so fickle a wooer his courtship was long ; 
 And the very moment he took his flight, 
 A honey-bee came with a hum of delight ; 
 And, hiding his head 
 In that thorn-guarded bed, 
 Forgot the rich clover all round him spread. 
 
 V. 
 
 The sparrow sang in a louder strain 
 His friendly song of warning again, 
 But though its notes were breathed so near, 
 The bee was too busy to heed or to hear ; 
 With thirsting lip 
 He continued to sip, 
 'Til heavy with wealth was his golden hip. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Ah ! the butterfly knew, and so did the bee, 
 Not all sweet flowers are fairest to see ; 
 
THISTLE-BLOSSOM. 41 
 
 And though the thistle was homely and rough, 
 Yet the heart of its blossom had honey enough — 
 Honey to spare — 
 Some for the air, 
 And plenty for fly and for bee to share. 
 
 YII. 
 
 How oft is it thus, in the bowers of earth, 
 With human blossoms of lowly birth ; 
 Their garb may be rude, and their forms uncouth, 
 Yet their spirits enshrine the sweetness of truth. 
 When such you spy. 
 Oh, pass them not by, 
 With haughty step and averted eye. 
 But pause to speak in a kindly strain — 
 A recompense sweet you will surely gain. 
 
SKY LIGHT. 
 
 Why dwellest thou here, in this old mountain tower, 
 When a home could be thine in yon sweet greenwood bower ^ 
 Said a vrandering bard to a student of Art, 
 Who toiled at his task with a tireless heart, 
 "Because," said the Artist, (and mark his reply) 
 " I must have the pure, shadowless light of the sky; 
 Should I work by aught other, ah ! then do you see, 
 Dark with errors the fruit of my labor would be, 
 
 For REFLECTED, Or CROSS-LIGHTS, Or lights frOm BELOAV 
 
 Give proportions all wrong, and false shadows bestow — 
 
 While color, and outline, and form all appear 
 
 Correct in the light from a sky pure and clear — 
 
 For this have I chosen my dwellmg up here." 
 
 Then again spake the poet, as kindled his eye 
 
 In that shadowless flood raining down from on high, 
 
 "I feel, oh, young artist, the truth of each word 
 
 Thou hast uttered e'en now, and my spirit is stirred 
 
 By a higher and holier knowledge, than e'er 
 
 Shone on it before in its visions most dear : 
 
 To the depths of a heart, that, for many a day, 
 
 Hatli been shadowed by gloom, steals the heavenly ray : 
 
 And all things are seen, for the first time, aright, — 
 
 Even sorrow and care by this truth telling light. 
 
SKY L I G n T. 43 
 
 Henceforth I -will strive, in my numbers, to show 
 
 That mortals should trust not to ' light from below,' 
 
 But turn to that radiance, holy and high, 
 
 Which smiles on their labors, direct from the sky ; 
 
 Then, 2:)erchauco, I may teach them Life's picture to see 
 
 As thou hast this moment revealed it to me. 
 
 With its lights all brought out — its proportions all true — 
 
 And e'en its dark shadows made beautiful too." 
 
LINES 
 
 TO THE HUDSON RIVER. 
 I. 
 
 River, that glideth by my childhood's home, 
 
 How beautiful thou art ! 
 Thy crystal waves, green isles, and fertile shores 
 
 Gladden the gazer's heart. 
 I look on thee as faithful lovers look 
 
 On their young idol's face, 
 And still, in every varying aspect, see 
 
 Some new-born charm or grace. 
 
 II. 
 
 Morn dimples thee with smiles ; — and when the moon 
 
 Comes forth at eve, her beams 
 Trace on thy tranquil tide a path of light, 
 
 That leads to loftiest dreams. 
 And when the stars, at midnight's holy hour, 
 
 Are mirrored in thy breast. 
 Thou seemest then^ like the pure heaven o'er thee, 
 
 A place of peace and rest. 
 
 HI. 
 
 River, that glideth by my childhood's home, 
 How eloquent thou art ! 
 
T T II E H [J D S N R I V E R. 45 
 
 What solemn truths from Nature's mystic page 
 
 Thou whisperest to the heart ! 
 I had a frieud — a brother loved so well, 
 
 His lightest word was dear. 
 He speaks no more on earth — ^yet in thy chime 
 
 His voice I seem to hear. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Thus silvery, soft and low, his accents were 
 
 In converse, prayer, or lay, 
 And thus, like thine, fair stream, his sinless life 
 
 In music flowed away — 
 Far in the spirit-land he dwelleth now, 
 
 Yet by some spell divine. 
 The gentle tone of thy sweet murmur seems 
 
 To link his soul to mine. 
 
 V. 
 
 River, that glideth by my childhood's home ! 
 
 Upon thy peaceful shore 
 They made the loved one's tomb — there, too, shall I 
 
 Repose when life is o'er. 
 'Tis sweet to think the soft and lulling song 
 
 Thy tuneful waters gave 
 To bless my earliest dreams, will soothe the last. 
 
 And echo near my grave. 
 
THE TEAR. 
 
 "There is a tear upon your cheek," 
 
 My little Lillie said, 
 "I want to kiss it ofi' maniii;a. 
 
 So please hold down your head."' 
 
 II. 
 
 I did as she desired, dear child — 
 
 The drop was quickly gone, 
 And the young prattler spake once more, 
 
 In Love's melodious tone — 
 
 III. 
 
 " Oh, naughty tears ! they often come 
 
 \Yhen little brother cries ; 
 Bu^ they are naughtier still, mamma 
 
 When standing in your eyes : 
 
 IV. 
 
 And if they dare to come again, 
 You must not lot them stay. 
 
 But call me quick, and I will run 
 To kiss them all away." 
 
Y. 
 
 God bless the child ! I inly prayed, 
 And may she long believe 
 
 Such gentle remedies can cure 
 The ills for which we grieve. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Within her simple faith lies hid 
 
 A moral of rare worth, 
 For Ivindly word and act can soothe 
 
 The deepest woes of earth. 
 
 YII. 
 
 Oh, may she prove the moral true 
 And, still in future years, 
 
 Have ever near her loving lip^j 
 To kiss away her tears. 
 
AN EVENING REVERIE. 
 
 I. 
 
 Day, slowly dying, leaves the western heaven 
 Rich with a dower of smiles, at parting given : 
 As softly ebb those floods of golden hue, 
 To merge at length in a vast sea of blue, 
 Hesper, sweet star, peeps forth with smiling eye 
 And soothes our fond regrets that Day must die. 
 
 TI. 
 
 Earth's varied sounds are hushed — its toil is o'er ;- 
 Now wearied millions may their strength restore 
 With the sweet balm of sleep. Oh, sacred hour ! 
 Sacred to peace and rest — thy hallowed power 
 Can soothe the care-worn mind, and bid it rise 
 On Thought's serial pinions to the skies. 
 
 III. 
 
 Night's solemn reign begins — How swiftly come 
 
 Her starry followers forth ! Her palace dome 
 
 Is now " a temple lit by sacred fires," 
 
 Where the soul, trembling, worships — yet aspires, 
 
 E'en in its humble reverence, to know 
 
 More of the mystic orbs which o'er it glow. 
 
EVENING REVERIE. 49 
 
 IV. 
 
 Those beacon flames, that since the birth of Time, 
 Have cliccrcd Life's voyagers with a light sublime 
 How doth their fadeless splendor bid us yearn 
 To know the laws by which they move and burn ! 
 How do we ponder o'er the lofty pages, 
 Whose lore has charmed the world thro' countless af>- 
 
 c ■ 
 
 V. 
 
 Our spirits must be kindred to the light 
 
 That trembles in those stars, — for when the Nieht 
 
 Broods over earth, and Silence is abroad, 
 
 (That holy silence eloquent of God,) 
 
 We seem to hear the harmony divine 
 
 That links us to the worlds which "sing and shine. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Our hearts, uplifted from earth's care and pain. 
 
 Then catch soft echoes of a heaven-born strain; 
 
 Thus weary mariners, who darkly float 
 
 On storm-tossed billows, catch a wandering note 
 
 Of sweetest music from the far off shore 
 
 Where they shall rest when the last voyage is o'er. 
 
WE AKE NO LONGER YOUNG. 
 
 We arc no longer j'oung, clear friend, 
 
 We are no longer young; 
 And Hope, sweet minstrel of the Past, 
 
 Sings not as once she sung. 
 The early visions of delight 
 
 Change, with Life's changing year, 
 As summer blossoms droop and fade 
 
 When Autumn storms draw near. 
 
 II. 
 
 Upon thy brow, beloved friend, 
 
 And more upon my own, 
 I read the epitaph of years 
 
 Which have forever flown; 
 And hi our voices, where of old 
 
 Such mirthful music rung 
 I hear the softened tones that tell 
 
 We are no longer young. 
 
 ITT. 
 And yet, we are not old, dear friend,- 
 Oh, no, we are not old ! 
 
X O LONGER Y U N G. 51 
 
 Though somewhat changed, our spirits still 
 
 Life's choicest gifts enfold : 
 The dearest blossoms of the heart 
 
 Still cling where first they clung, 
 And bloom as bright and breathe as sweet 
 
 As when we both were young. 
 
 IV. 
 What have we lost with passing years? 
 
 A sunny tress or two ; 
 The lip's glad echo of delight ; 
 
 The cheek's fresh roseate hue. 
 What have wc gained with passing years ? 
 
 Ah ! treasures that repay 
 Our souls for that unreal wealth 
 
 Which Time hath borne away. 
 
 V. 
 
 We' ve gained a love more pure and deep 
 
 Than youth's glad hours could know — 
 A love that sweetens every care. 
 
 And softens ever}- woe. 
 Our children sing us merrier songs 
 
 Than early hope once sung : 
 Our lives are haj^pier, holier now, 
 
 Than when we both were young. 
 
52 
 
 NO LONGER YOUNG. 
 
 YI. 
 
 Then let its not regret the light 
 
 That fades from mornhig's skies, 
 While such a cloudless sunset smiles 
 
 Before our charmed eyes — 
 Our evening hymns may be as sweet 
 
 As those we earliest sung ; 
 Our grateful hearts be blest, altliough 
 
 We are no longer young. 
 
LINES 
 
 ON THE DEATH OF DAXIEL WEBSTER. 
 
 I. 
 
 Dejected, 'mid earth's mighty baud 
 Of nations, see Columbia stand, 
 
 A stricken mourner now f 
 Wo ! — for her starry diadem 
 Hath lost another priceless gem — 
 
 "Wo for her darkened brow 1 
 
 II. 
 Alas, how fast they fade away — 
 Those living stars of purest ray ! 
 
 But late, in southern skies, 
 Paled one most luminously bright, 
 Now, in the north, a grander light 
 
 Along th' horizon dies. 
 
 III. 
 Well may Columbia weep and wail, 
 Well may her children load the gale 
 
 With Sorrow's solemn hymn : 
 
54 DANIEL WEBSTER. 
 
 For .sutldcn darkness, like a pall, 
 Seems over earth's douiaiu to fall, 
 
 When such u light grows dim, 
 
 IV. 
 
 How oft will Time reverse his glass, 
 How many a varj^ng year will pass 
 
 Ere we again can sec 
 His like, whose loss we mourn to-da}' — 
 Then let the tide of grief have way ; 
 
 Let it flow fast and free. 
 
 V. 
 Hark ! now o'er valley hill and plain, 
 
 Mournfully floats the funeral strain — 
 
 How loud the chorus swells ' 
 
 Well may it echo far and wide, 
 
 For that majestic music-tide 
 
 A world's great sorrow tells 
 
 VI. 
 
 No voice is mute ; no lip is still ; 
 
 No heart but doth responsive thrill 
 
 To the unwelcome tale ! 
 From hamlets lone, from village homos 
 And crowded towns the murnmr comes, — 
 One universal wail ! 
 
DA NT EL WEBSTER. 55 
 
 Yir. 
 
 The nation's friend is gone — That voice, 
 Whose tones bade listening crowds rejoice, 
 
 On earth shall wake no more ; 
 Its eloqnent pleadings in the cause 
 Of Freedom's great and sacred laws. 
 
 Are now forever o'er. 
 
 ^111. 
 
 The nation's friend indeed ! — the Sage, 
 "Whose counsels, to his laud and age, 
 
 Were like a beacon light : 
 Whose spirit, in the stormiest hour. 
 Swayed senates with resistless power, 
 
 And led them still aright. 
 
 IX. 
 Alas, that one so wisely great, 
 So priceless here, should meet tlie fate 
 
 Of lowlier sons of earth ! 
 Alas, that from the cold, dark grave, 
 A nation's reverence might not save 
 
 A mind of such rare worth ! 
 
 X. 
 
 "Where shall his sepulchre be made? 
 " Where shall the mighty dead be laid ?" 
 Columbia weeping cries — 
 
56 D A N I E L W E B S T E R. 
 
 Ah, let us choose some hallowed place 
 "\Yherc sleep the noblest of their race — 
 
 There let his proud tomb rise. 
 
 XI. 
 
 Yet stay — for Nature murmurs low 
 Fi'om her serenest haunts, "Ah, no ! 
 
 " Give up thy dead to me. 
 " Upon the lone and quiet shore 
 " Where sleep his fathers, gone before, 
 
 " Let his last slumbers be." 
 
 Xli. 
 
 And so, in simple beauty there, 
 Where all is peaceful pure and fair. 
 
 Behold the patriot's bed ! 
 Lowly and unadorned — yet grand 
 As costliest couch, in proudest land, 
 
 For mightiest monarch spread. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Yes, grand indeed — that narrow bound ; 
 And truly consecrated ground, 
 
 As saintly shrine or grot. 
 All that coiild l)Ow to changeless fate. 
 All that was mortal of the great, 
 
 Sleeps well in such a spot. 
 
D ANIE L WEBS TER. 57 
 
 XIV. 
 What need of marble tomb or shrine ? 
 What need of graven verse or line, 
 
 To laud the statesman's name ? 
 For Time, as ages onwcird sweep, 
 Will still the lofty record keep — 
 
 The record of his fame. 
 
I 
 
 THE M A K B L E S T A T U E. 
 
 [The reader will perceive that this poem is a tribute to the memory 
 of the unfortunate Countess D'Ossola. Her melancholy fate, to- 
 gether with that of her husband and child, must be still fresh in 
 the minds of all — therefore it is scarcely necessary to observe^ 
 that the actual circumstances of the tragedy were very nearly 
 in accordance with those related in the poem.] 
 
 Amid the classic shades of ancient Rome 
 A gifted Sculptor toiled— His ready hand, 
 Obedient to the mandate of his will, 
 Shaped the rude block so cunningly, it grew 
 Instinct with life and beauty. Long he wrought, — 
 Patient and tireless ever, for his heart 
 Enshrined the flame of Genius ; — that pure ray 
 Made every labor sweeter than repose. 
 And set, high o'er the darksome night of toil. 
 The luminous stars of joy. 
 
 The Sculptor's home 
 And native land were far beyond the sea — 
 And oft, amid his sterner darker thoughts, 
 Like anjrel-fiiiures in a troubled dream, 
 Kose gentle memories of his early home. 
 Already in that far off home, his name 
 Was uttered proudly. Thousands there, had paid 
 
THE MARBLE STATUE. 59 
 
 Heart-homage to the eloqueut loveliness 
 
 Of shapes his hand had wrought. Like music-tones, 
 
 Wafted o'er ocean waves, came oft a sound 
 
 Sweet to his listening ear. The murmur rose 
 
 And, gathering power, re-echoed far and wide — 
 
 It was the voice of praise — praise from his own 
 
 Free, happy, prosperous land. How glorious stood, 
 
 'Mid earth's great band of Nations, that young land ! 
 
 How thrilled the dreamer's soul with the proud thought 
 
 That he might do it honor ! — Well he knew 
 
 The sous of Genius hallow still the soil 
 
 That gives them birth. What sweeter thought could shed 
 
 Light o'or the long day's toil? 
 
 And now he sought 
 To shape the semblance of a Man who, late, 
 Had been his country's boast — One of the props 
 That held her greatness up — A statesman, wise, 
 High souled, pure hearted, firm and true 
 To virtue's living principles. The lip 
 That oft had breathed rich strains to crowds enthralled. 
 Was voiceless now, and th' inspired mind 
 That sent such thrilling music to the lip. 
 Had, like a summer sun, in splendor set. 
 A night of sadness rested on the land 
 Reft of that starry light. Tlic nation mourned — 
 Not with a passionate grief that soothes itself 
 
GO 
 
 THE MAllBLE STATUE. 
 
 By varied expression, but a still, 
 Voiceless, abiding sorrow. Long tbe name 
 Of their departed statesman, echoing there, 
 'Mid peopled cities and green forest homes, 
 Burtheued each sigh of Memory with regret. 
 
 To give back to his country, so bereaved, 
 A Likeness of the Lost, was now the hope 
 That set to music all the Sculptor's thoughts. 
 In unison with every skilful stroke, 
 His heart-throbs beat, and, by that harmony 
 Of hand and spirit, soon the fine result 
 Of noble toil was gained. Ere long he stood 
 Before the finished work, and felt it thrill 
 His inmost being with that pure, deep joy 
 That is the soul's sweet recompense, whene'er 
 Its lofty tasks are worthily performed. 
 
 The air was vocal with the busy tread 
 Of Art's admiring votaries. Many came. 
 And lingered long, then mutely turned away — 
 Paying their heart's deep homage silently; 
 While others gave their glad approval voice 
 In gracious words. These tributes of applause 
 Fell on the Artist's sense, as summer rain 
 Falls on the thirsting flower. 
 
 'Mid those who came 
 
THE MARBLE STATUE. 61 
 
 To render homage to that stately Form, 
 
 Was a fair Damo, wlio viewed the noble work 
 
 With searching, soul-lit gaze. Spell-bound she bent 
 
 Before that silent Shape. To her it spake, 
 
 With an eloquent and beguiling voice, 
 
 Of distant friends, and old, beloved scenes. 
 
 Her childhood's home was in that far-oif land 
 
 Whence came the Sculptor — Soon that land would be 
 
 Enriched by this last trophy of his skill ; 
 
 And with this thought came yearnings fond and deep 
 
 To see once more the haunts of by-gone days — 
 
 In truth, she saw them now, for with a power 
 
 Like that Enchanter's own, the Marble Form 
 
 Had conjured up before her spirit-gaze. 
 
 Bright, fairy pictures of her native land : 
 
 Green hills and lovely vales and waving woods 
 
 Eose softly on her sight — gladdening her soul 
 
 With memories of the Past. 
 
 Long, long she gazed 
 Upon that pale, mute Form — blessing it still 
 For the bright dreams it brought. Ah, well might she 
 Feel the deep spell that lives in shapes of beauty ! 
 Her mind was like a shrine o'erSlled with rare 
 And costly treasures — richly dowered it was 
 With wealth that Learning, patient laborer, finds 
 In the deep mines of Knowledge. She had won, 
 
62 
 
 THE MARBLE STATUE. 
 
 While yet the ])loom of girlhood flushed her cheek, 
 The laurel -wreath of fame. As now she stood, 
 Giving most graeions audience to the crowd 
 Of sweet and tender memories that came 
 Clustering around her heart, there spread such light 
 Of inspiration o'er her speaking face, 
 Ye might have deemed her th' embodied form 
 Of Genius worshipping at Art's pure shrine. 
 
 « * * * # 
 
 The ship that bore the Sculptor's marble child 
 From the fiiir clime that smiled upon its birth, 
 Sped gaily o'er the sea. The sunlit wave, 
 The fair and freshening winds, the cloudless heavens 
 All smiled upon its voyage. It was a mom 
 Of glorious beauty, and the stately bark. 
 As light it bounded on its trackless way, 
 Seemed dancing to the music of the breeze ; 
 Rejoicing hearts danced to that music too — 
 For Ocean's perils now were well-nigh past, 
 And Home's sweet haven near. 
 
 With those who tread 
 Tlie vessel's deck, this balmy summer morn. 
 Behold the lady we have named as one 
 Of Nature's favored children. She hath dwelt 
 For many years in Italy's soft clime ; 
 And there her thirsting spirit ofttimes drank 
 
THE :M A i; U L L ,-5 T A T L' E. 63 
 
 Draughts cf pure joy from many a classic fouut. 
 Eut uow a new delight o'erflows her heart — 
 Her native land is near, and every thought, 
 Like a glad bird returning to its nest, 
 Flies, fluttering fondly, homeward. — 
 
 Near her stands 
 A man of stately mien, whose dark bright eye 
 Rests ever on her face with looks of love. 
 His thread of life is closely blent with hers, 
 And tho', for her dear sake, he leaveth now 
 His own fair clime, he feels no fond regrets; — 
 Where'er she dwells, there will all earth, for him. 
 Be robed in hues of beauty — there will be 
 His " own heart's happy home." 
 
 Another form 
 Flits like a sunbeam near them — "Tis a child- — 
 A lovely one, whose infant features blend 
 The beauties of two climes. Its large, dark eyes, 
 Lit by a softened splendor, sw^et tho' sad, 
 Are like to those of its Italian sire ; 
 While the soft rosy lips, and blue-veined skin, 
 And glowing checks bespeak the mother's blood. 
 How beautiful they are ! How blessed those three, 
 Whose blended beings make the perfect xniRD, 
 The chord of sweetest music ! Lo ! they stand, 
 Encircled by an atmosphere of bliss — 
 
llich in the sours best wealth — Life smiles to them, 
 Fair as that summer morn. 
 
 The ship speeds on — 
 Day wanes, and eve draws near, but not serene 
 As the bright morning promised — Troops of clouds 
 Rush into view, and march atliwart the sky. 
 Like eager warriors, hastening to the fight. 
 Black grows the wave beneath the angry scowl 
 Of those malignant clouds — No smiling ray, 
 Peeping from star or moon, sheds hope and cheer 
 Upon the gloomy scene. A boding sound — 
 A voice of evil prophecy is heard. 
 Whispering and moaning thro' the troubled air. 
 Soon, from their mystic lair, the bellowing winds, 
 Like savage beasts of prey, rush madly forth, — 
 All night they howl and roar along the deep ; 
 All night the waves hurl back that angry sound, 
 Yet, like a brave soul battling with stern Fate, 
 The good ship struggles on. Amid the gloom, 
 Each pallid trembler on her heaving deck. 
 Pours forth, from shivering lips, a prayer for aid- 
 Man's organ tone, and woman's feebler voice, 
 With Childhood's plauitive wail, are sadly blent 
 In that appealing strain. 
 
 No creature there, 
 That wore the human form, was still and calm, 
 
THE MAllBLE STATUE. 65 
 
 Save the pale Statue in its cabiu-uiche. 
 
 There, swathed in snow-white, many-folded shroud, 
 
 Shrined in a deep Sarcophagus, and stored 
 
 Far from all contact with ignobler things, 
 
 It lay like some pure sleeper of the tomb, 
 
 Unconscious in its visiouless repose. 
 
 Of all the misery that those hearts above 
 
 So keenly, wildly felt. 
 
 Morn came at last — 
 A pale and tearful morn — that o'er the world 
 Peeped with a timid glance, as loathe to see 
 The devastations of the vanished night. 
 Th' uncertain ray spread o'er the sobbing deep, 
 Yet fell on nothing save the crested waves. 
 Where was the stately vessel ? Where her crew ? 
 Where the fond, smiling group that graced her deck 
 And where her rich, rare freight, the Marble Form? 
 All lost ! all by that dread abyss, entomed ! 
 
 Slowly, reluctantly the traitorous waves 
 
 Give back their stolen hoard — Alas, how changed! 
 
 Those three fond beings, mother, sire and child. 
 
 But yesterday so full of life and love. 
 
 So radiant with the roseate flush of hope, 
 
 XoAV pale and mute on ocean's threshold lie— 
 
 [lushed to the sleep of death ! What sadder sio-ht 
 5 ° ' 
 
66 
 
 T HE M A 11 B L E STAT U E. 
 
 lu hi;-) far-rcac'liliig glances o'er the earth, 
 Could that moru's suii behold? 
 
 The Sculptor's work 
 Lay loug in coral chambers of the sea, 
 For ocean nymphs, enamoured of the Form, 
 Wreathed round it snowy arms, and held it fasi 
 In passionate embrace — But longing eyes 
 Were waiting to behold it. Busy hands 
 And willing hearts toiled bravely, 'til they won. 
 The valued treasure from the Naiad's home — 
 A kingly shape emerging to the light. 
 It came at last in stately beauty forth ; 
 And as men gazed upon its nmte, grave lips, 
 They half believed (so life-like every line) 
 Those pallid portals would unclose, and give 
 Utterance to well-known tones — tones that would teii 
 The sad and solemn secrets of the Deep. 
 
 No voice, no sound may issue from thy lips, 
 Thou silent Shape ! yet ever more, methinks, 
 Thou'lt eloquently speak to thoughtful minds. 
 And not alone wilt thou discourse of him 
 Whose cunning hand so deftly fasliioned thee, 
 Or him, the patriot, whose majestic form 
 Thou imagest so well ; — but thou wilt speak 
 Also of tlicm who shared thy ocean voyage — 
 
THE M A Pt B L E S T A T U E. 67 
 
 The hapless ones, whose hearts' fond hymn of joy 
 Death so untimely hushed. Perchance that, now, 
 (All sorrow past,) they haply roam in worlds 
 Where forms of beauty do not change, or die; 
 Yet still their spirits seem to linger here, 
 And still tlieir gentle memories are linked, 
 In immortality of fame, to thee. 
 Thou muie Jtiistorian of their mournful fate. 
 
CUPS OF GOLD. 
 
 I. 
 
 Little Walter, Fortune's petted darling, 
 
 Chanced one summer day, 
 Spite of watchful nurse and tender mother, 
 
 From his home to stray. 
 On the country's sweet and simple pleasures 
 
 All his thoughts intent — 
 Dreaming still of birds and flowers and pebbles, 
 
 Fast and far he went. 
 
 II. 
 
 Near a meadow gemmed with radiant blossoms 
 
 Paused the happy child ; 
 There a group of rustic lads were playing, 
 
 One ran forth and smiled, 
 Saying " thou hast come, my little master, 
 
 From the town I see ; 
 Wilt thou join us in our merry pastimes ? 
 
 Wilt thou play with me ?" 
 
 III. 
 
 Walter, at the homely-clad young stranger 
 Shyly looked askance, 
 
C U P S F G L D. 69 
 
 "Wlulst a chikli.sh l^itj, scorn and wonder 
 
 Mingled in his glance, 
 As lie mused — " 'tis very strange his mother 
 
 Does not curl his hair ; — 
 Still more strange his father should allow him 
 
 Such poor clothes to wear." 
 
 IV. 
 Then he spake aloud—" I cannot join you — 
 
 That would never do — 
 My father's rich and great — he does not let me 
 
 Play with boys like you.'' 
 Soft and tuneful were the other's accents 
 
 As he made reply — 
 *' I've a Father, too, who's rich and mighty, 
 
 Uut he dwells on High." 
 
 V. 
 " Mine," said Walter, " gives me toys and treasm-es, 
 
 Splendid to behold ! 
 I have, for myself, a plate of silver, 
 
 And a cup of gold." 
 Brightened then with rays of earnest feeling 
 
 Eyes of softest blue, 
 As their little owner gently answered — 
 
 " I have nice thinors too. — ■ 
 
curs OF GOLD. 
 
 vr. 
 
 " My Hcaveiilj Fatlier 's very gciicrous to mc — 
 
 As for cups of gold, 
 I can show you more this very minute 
 
 Than your hands can hold." — 
 Saying this, he ran off toward the meadow — 
 
 Many flowers grew there — 
 Fast he plucked the buttercups so golden, 
 Then, with joyous air, 
 
 VII. 
 
 Hastening back, he shouted — " Here, behold them! 
 
 See how bright they shine ! 
 Yours, I think, cannot be half so lovely 
 
 As these cups of mine : 
 You should only see them in the morning 
 
 When they're filled with dew — 
 Butterflies and bees are humming round them, 
 
 Drinking from them too. 
 
 i 
 
 YIII. 
 Think how rich and good must be my Father 
 
 If such cups as these. 
 Not alone he gives to orphan children, 
 
 But to flies and bees." 
 
 IX. 
 
 Oh, the precious lore on Nature's pages 
 Written out so fair ! 
 
C U P S F G L D. 71 
 
 What of all the Schoolmen's wise instruction 
 
 Can -with this compare ? 
 Still it speaketh to the heart of Childhood 
 
 Words of truth and love ; 
 Still it lifts th' exjjanding soul's pure instincts 
 
 To their Source above. 
 
 X. 
 Little Walter reached his home at eveninff. 
 
 Safe from every harm — 
 Showed his parents all his flowery treasures — 
 
 Hushed their wild alarm. 
 Oft, in dainty words, the day's adventure 
 
 O'er and o'er was told, 
 For the boy had drank sweet draughts of knowledge 
 
 From those " cups of gold." 
 
THE ROBIN'S HYMN OF JOY 
 
 It was a moru iu spring, yet Nature wore 
 A wintry aspect still. — On sunniest plain, 
 Our eyes could scarce discern the delicate hue 
 Of the upspringing grass. The leafless trees. 
 Shivered like half-clad sons of Poverty, 
 And shrank from rude assaults of chilling winds. 
 A cold, dark mi.st, brooded o'er hill and plain ; 
 The blue serene of heaven was veiled by clouds ; 
 And the wide landscape looked a dreary world 
 That never more, beneath the laughiing sun, 
 Would wake to joyous life. The swelling buds 
 Scarce dared to peep from their mysterious cells ; 
 And timid wild-flowers, waiting for the kiss 
 Of gentle southern breezes, ventured not 
 To lift their pretty heads from earth's warm breast. 
 E'en the brave violet, ever first to give 
 A breath of sweetest welcome to the spring, 
 Would not believe the gladsome days had come, 
 But hid herself in doubt, and waited still. 
 Not so a robin, that on neighboring spray 
 Alit, and sang in such " full-throated ease," 
 That far-ofl" hill tops echoed to his voice. 
 He did not fear or doubt ; — he did not wait 
 
THE ROBINS 11 YMX. 
 
 73 
 
 For sunny messengers, or heralds fair. 
 To tell him spring had come. Like a brave heart 
 That sliapes its own bright destiny-, he sought 
 To MAKE the good he wished for. The reward 
 Came, as it ever does, with noble eifort. — 
 That song itself made all the landscape seem 
 Rich with the hues of spring. The morn sped on ; 
 And still that tireless minstrel poured abroad 
 Drops from the sweet fount in his own full heart. 
 No stinted stream — no faint or tremulous trill 
 Of undecided joy ; but a full burst 
 Of rich and gushing gladness — such a sound 
 As straightway takes the soul in bondage sweet, 
 And bears it off on floods of happy thought. 
 Peal after peal rang out ! The cedar grove, 
 "Where that liigh-priest of Nature woke his hymn, 
 Became a temple of melodious 2>raise — 
 Not one alone, but many grateful hearts 
 Seemed offering up most tuneful worship, there, 
 To Nature's unseen God ! 
 
 How full of faith. 
 How touching, how sublime that song of joy. 
 Which, cleaving mist and darkness, floated up 
 E'en to the .'^uu that smiled beyond the cloud ! 
 
SISTER ROSE. 
 
 The pretty legeiul that suggested this ballad, is well told in a work 
 [written liy W. H. Maxwell, entitled " Wild Sports of the West."] 
 
 I. 
 
 The vesper hymn's soft music stole, 
 
 In strains of soothing power, 
 Thro' a convent's solemn corridors 
 
 At Evening's stilly hour — 
 "When suddenly the anthem died 
 
 On every faltering tongue, 
 As loudly at the portal 
 
 A bugle summons rung. 
 
 II. 
 
 Pale grew the gentle sisterhood 
 
 With wonder and afFriglit, 
 For rarely to those holy walls 
 
 Came visitant at night ; 
 But the Lady Abbess calmly rose. 
 
 And murmuring briefest prayer, 
 Signed thrice the cross, then sought ot lean 
 
 Who claimed her pious care. 
 
SISTER ROSE. 75 
 
 m. 
 
 This answer came — " A noble koight. 
 
 Whilst hunting on the plain, 
 Has lost his i)ath and wandered far 
 
 From all his valiant train. 
 The wind is chill, the heath is lone, 
 
 No moonbeam cheers his way — 
 Will ye not give the wearied man 
 
 Rest here, till dawn of day ?" 
 
 IV. 
 "GrO forth again," the Abbess said, 
 
 " To ask his rank and name — " 
 "Lord of Iveagh, Cormac More," 
 
 Was then the word that came. 
 '' Ah ! Cormac Moi-e ! whose bounty oft 
 
 These holy walls has blessed ! 
 Haste — bid him in, — we gladly give 
 
 Welcome to such a guest." 
 
 V. 
 
 And soon, while louder blew the blast 
 
 And wilder rose the storm. 
 The wandering noble sat within 
 
 A chamber bright and warm ; 
 
76 
 
 SISTER ROSE. 
 
 His board uas spread ■with sparkling wine, 
 
 With rich and dainty fare, 
 While pious maidens, closely veiled, 
 
 Served him with zealous care. 
 
 VI. 
 One of these maids had loveliest form 
 
 And moved with matchless grace ; 
 Yet vainly sought the knight to pierce 
 
 The veil that hid her face; 
 Still, like a floating cloud that dims 
 
 The moon's celestial light, 
 That gauzy drapery hung between 
 
 To mock the gazer's sight. 
 
 vir. 
 
 At length his rapier's jewelled hilt 
 
 (Was it by happy chance ?) 
 Caught the soft tissue, and it fell, 
 
 Revealing to his glance, 
 A face of youthful loveliness, 
 
 A beauty such a."? beams 
 But rarely on a mortal eye, 
 
 Save in the world of dreams. 
 
 VIII. 
 As might a tender violet 
 
 Shrink from the sun's warm ray, 
 
SISTER ROSE. 77 
 
 If siuklenly the winds had rent 
 Its veil of leaves away — 
 
 So shrank the tinftd, trembling maid, 
 O'er come by modest fear, 
 
 Seeking to hide her blushing cheek 
 From the bright glances near. 
 
 IX. 
 
 'Twas but an instant that she stood 
 
 Before th' enraptured knight ; 
 'T wa« but an instant, ere she turned 
 
 To vanish from his sicht : 
 Yet in that moment's fleeting space 
 
 Love's mystic passion-flower 
 Burst forth to full and perfect bloom 
 
 Like buds in tropic bower. 
 
 X. 
 
 Tho' soon the beauteous vision fled. 
 
 It left a light behind 
 That wove a golden tissue round 
 
 The gazer's charmed mind. 
 A captive now in bondage sweet, 
 
 He bowed his williuDr soul. 
 And yielded all its hopes and dreams. 
 
 To Love's divine control. 
 
7S 
 
 SISTER ROSE. 
 
 XI. 
 
 The uiglit sped on — untouched remained 
 
 The tempting wine and food; 
 Unheeded died the fire away; 
 
 Untrimmed the tapers stood. 
 Hour after hour the nohle sat, 
 
 Nor marked the dawn draw nigh, 
 Nor waked from thought, 'til matin hymns 
 
 Pealed to the morning sky. 
 
 XII. 
 
 And when the Lady Abbess came 
 
 To greet her honored guest, 
 He spake not of his evening fare. 
 
 Or of his nightly rest ; 
 But quickly questioned of the maid 
 
 Whose charms had thrilled his heart, 
 Then hung upon these answered words 
 
 As they of life were part — 
 
 XIII. 
 
 " She is not of our order, knight, 
 
 Our gentle Sister Rose; 
 She's but an orphan pupil here ; 
 
 Not bound by holy vows — 
 Yet she is loved and cherished well, 
 For she is good as fair : 
 
S I S T E II 11 S E. 79 
 
 Her youth, her innocence and worth 
 Claim holiest watch and care." 
 
 XIV. 
 " A friendless orphan," mused the kuight- 
 
 " Now blessed be wealth and power ! 
 I never knew their worth, methinks, 
 
 'Til this auspicious hour. 
 Kind Lady Abbess, let me speak 
 
 One word to this young maid — 
 One word — no more — and for the boon 
 
 Thy church shall be repaid.'' 
 
 XV. 
 The smiling Lady Abbess went. 
 
 The smiling sister came — 
 She only heard that one low word, 
 
 Yet all may guess its name. 
 The maiden's cheek was bright bef jtj, 
 
 But richer now its hue — 
 Ah ! never face so fair, but Love 
 
 Could lend it charms anew ! 
 
 XVI. 
 Lightly, on every opening flower, 
 Danced Morning's gladsome ray ; 
 
80 S I S T E R 11 S E. 
 
 Yet lightlier dauced young Cormac's heart 
 
 As fast he rode away : 
 Still was he dreaming, as he went 
 
 Of Eden-hours to come, 
 "When Sister Rose, his promised bride, 
 
 Should grace his lordly home. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 Soon came the joyous nuptial day, 
 
 Remembered well and long, 
 For bards its varied splendors told 
 
 In many a tujieful song ; 
 And minstrels still, in glowing strains, 
 
 Re-echo far and wide 
 The bravery of Iveagh's lord, 
 
 The beauty of his bride. 
 
 xvm. 
 
 If, in the shade of cloister walls, 
 
 Bright blushed that gentle flower, 
 Oh ! think how richer far its bloom 
 
 Within a love-lit bower ! 
 And if, amid the brave and true, 
 
 Cor mac was proud before. 
 Oh, think how prouder throbb'd his heart 
 
 When sueh a Rose it wore. 
 
SISTER ROSE. 81 
 
 XIX. 
 
 What generous bouutj did he give 
 
 "\Tliat liberal tribute pay 
 To all the holy patron saints 
 
 Of that old cloister grey ! 
 And he who rarely prayed before, 
 
 Prayed now, 'til life was done, 
 For blessings on the sacred place 
 
 Where his sweet bride was won. 
 
BIRTH-DAY VERSES. 
 
 I. 
 Here — could my pleadings or iny luandaty ytay thee- 
 Oli, fleeting Time ! here would I fain delay thee. 
 My life is lovely here ; — its changeful tide 
 May not, in after years, so calmly glide. 
 
 II. 
 
 As ■wandering voyagers linger near a shore 
 Verdant and bright, but which they never more 
 Shall see again, so, on this pleasant stage 
 Of Life's swift journey, this fair golden age, 
 I fain would pause awhile. The scenes I see 
 Around me now, — oh, would they might not flee ! 
 
 III. 
 
 Far off, yet plainly visible, appears 
 
 The fiiiry landscape of my childhood's years; 
 
 The misty light, the soft celestial hue 
 
 That distance lends, but gives them charms anew. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Next to life's Spring, its golden summer days 
 Rise up and smile in Memory's faithful rays : — 
 
BIRTII-DAY VERSES. 83 
 
 In tbat glad season all the laughing Hours 
 
 Danced onward crowned with light, and robed with flowers. 
 
 V. 
 Back to those scenes mine eye is ofttimes cast ; 
 And yet I sigh not for the A-auished past, 
 For still the landscape smiles serenely fair. 
 Still sweetest music murmurs in the air, 
 Still many flowers that, graced Youth's early dream. 
 In lingering beauty bloom, by mount and stream. 
 
 YI. 
 These Autumn days ! methinks I love them more 
 Thau all the gorgeous ones that went before; 
 This is the heart's glad harvest, this the time 
 It gathers fruits it planted in life's prime, 
 Hoards up its joys, as misers do their gold, 
 Or reapers garner grain from AYinter's cold. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Thus let me garner mine — thus count each joy. 
 
 Thus shield them well from storms that might destroy. 
 
 Let Time speed on, — and if I may not stand 
 
 Longer upon the pleasant border-land 
 
 That youth and age divides, yet can I go 
 
 With cheerful footsteps to the vale below. 
 
MY CHILDREN. 
 
 They are sportive as the fairies 
 
 That, in olden days, were seen 
 By dreaming poets, dancing 
 
 Upon the moonlit green. 
 Their smiles are like the sunbeams 
 
 That kiss a summer flower ; 
 And their love is far more precious 
 
 Thau richest golden dower. 
 
 II. 
 At early dawn, their voices 
 
 So tunefully arise, 
 I seem to list the warbling 
 
 Of birds 'neath morning skies. 
 And at twilight, when they murmur 
 
 Soft and low their evening prayer, 
 Celestial Peace and Holiness 
 
 Seem broodino; in the air. 
 
 III. 
 As all day long they wander, 
 
 Like sunbeams, in and out. 
 They rouse up slumberiug Echo 
 
 With merry laugh or shout ; 
 
MY CHILDREN. 85 
 
 They fill my home with muisic ; 
 
 They flood this beating heart 
 With such full tides of tenderness 
 
 That tears of rapture start. 
 
 IV. 
 
 My hajipy little pilgrims ! 
 
 Life's march they now begin, 
 With brows untouched by sorrow, 
 
 And hearts unstained by sin — 
 Oh ! might they thus forever, 
 
 'Mid fairy prospects go, 
 With cloudless skies above them 
 
 And thornless flowers below ! 
 
 V. 
 
 But vain the wish to keep them 
 
 Thus innocently gay ; — 
 Too soon, perchance, sad changes 
 
 May darken o'er their way. 
 Alas ! they're only mortal. 
 
 Although so pure and fair : 
 No mortal love can shield them 
 
 From the common lot of care. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Oh ! Thou who dwellest in heaven- 
 Great Ruler of the skies ! 
 
86 
 
 M Y C H I L D R E N . 
 
 Who art iiifiDitcly Gracious, 
 
 Aud infiuitclj Wise, 
 Wilt lend thine aid to keep them 
 
 From sin and suiferiug free ? 
 Wilt teach me how to lead them 
 
 To holiness aud Thee ? 
 
 I 1 
 
THE WO I N G. 
 
 AX OLD TABLE IN A NEW DRESS. 
 I. 
 
 In days of old was born a maid, 
 
 Dowered with a sweet beguiling spell ; 
 Sunbeams around her pathway played, 
 
 And flowers sprang where her footsteps fell. 
 Her eyes were lit with heavenly fire; 
 
 Her voice was sweet as seraph's tone : 
 All hearts were moved with fond desire 
 
 To call this charming nymph their own. 
 
 II. 
 
 From far and near men came to woo ; 
 
 Young Wit was foremost of the train : 
 " My jokes," said he, " are arrows true; 
 
 They'll soon a brilliant victory gain." 
 He plied those shining missiles long ; 
 
 He wooed with many a merry wile : 
 But sparkling jest and sportive song 
 
 Could ne'er the maiden's heart beguile. 
 
 III. 
 Next Learning came — a stately wight, 
 Whose mind had searched the orbs above, 
 
And grasped all knowledge, liigli aud bright — 
 All save the " gentle craft of love." 
 
 He talked of history, science, art; 
 
 He AYOoed the maid in classic phrase ; 
 
 Yet all the while her warm young heart 
 Grew cold beneath his formal gaze. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Then Fortune came — a dashing blade, 
 
 With princely garb and pompous air : 
 " A palace is my home," he said, 
 
 " Wilt thou sweet nymph, be sovereign there ? 
 " Thy stately palace," she replied, 
 
 " With all its splendor lures not me ; 
 Its two grim ushers, Care and Pride, 
 
 Still bid me from its precincts flee." 
 
 V. 
 
 Then G enius came — a youth so pale, 
 
 So proud and yet so beauteous, too ; 
 'Twas said he surely could not fail 
 
 The coy young charmer to subdue. 
 His eye had stol'n the star's pure beam ; 
 
 His voice had caught the flow of song; 
 And when he whispered Love's fond theme, 
 
 The tranced maiden listened long. 
 
U' I N a . 89 
 
 At length she sighed, "It may not be ;"- 
 
 And soft regret crept o'er her heart — 
 " Long since, alas ! 'twas fate's decree 
 
 That thou and I should dwell apart. 
 From the first moment of our birth, 
 
 Far different paths to us were given; 
 I dwell amid the flowers of earth — 
 
 Thou soarest to the stars of heaven." 
 
 VII. 
 She turned away — perchance to hide 
 
 The tear that dimmed her e3'e's soft hue — 
 When lo ! already at her side, 
 
 Another suitor met her view. 
 This was a youth of honest toil. 
 
 Of lowly birth and homely name ; 
 A youth, whose store of wealth was small, 
 
 Whose deeds were all " unknown to fame." 
 
 vm. 
 
 Yet long and truly had he loved 
 
 Tliat maiden for herself alone; 
 And when his earnest faith was proved, 
 
 He won the charmer for his own. 
 
4 
 
 90 
 
 WOOING. 
 
 Since then, through all earth's storm and shiue- 
 Its summer days, its wintry weather — 
 
 Sweet Happiness — the maid divine — • 
 And Common Sense have dwelt together. 
 
THE RED ROSE AND THE WHITE. 
 
 I. 
 
 A MAiDEX, fair as moruiug, 
 
 Stood near a rushing stream ; 
 She gazed into its waters, 
 
 And dreamed a happy dream : ^ 
 And e'en the while she dreamed it, 
 
 There stole unto her side 
 A smiling youth who proifered 
 
 A rose-bud, crimson dyed. 
 
 n. 
 
 The maid's fair cheek, so tinted 
 
 By Hope's soft flush before, 
 Grew lovelier with Love's blushes, 
 
 'Til the rose-bud's hue it wore ; 
 And though her lip would never 
 
 The wished-for word confess, 
 Her eye in timid glances. 
 
 Said eloquently — Yes ! 
 
 / 
 
 III. 
 
 When years had come and vanished, 
 That stream still sped along, 
 
 But a pale and thoughtful woman 
 Now listened to its soiiiz : 
 
She watched its gliding waters. 
 
 She loved their tuneful flow, 
 They whispered to her spirit 
 
 Sweet tales of " long ago." 
 
 IV. 
 Bright as those dauclug wavelets, 
 . And musical as they, 
 Had been her heart's glad fancies 
 
 lu youth's unclouded day; 
 Now merry waves still chanted 
 
 Their love-song to the shore, 
 But, alas ! Life's fairy melodies 
 Sang in her heart no more ! 
 
 V. 
 That stream, the flowers beside it, 
 
 The skies that o'er it shone, 
 All kept their early beauty. 
 
 But hers, for aye, was gone ! 
 While there she mused, in sadness, 
 
 That Youth's sweet dreams should close 
 One came to her, who ofi"ered 
 
 A simple, snow-white rose. 
 
 VI. 
 
 A bright, glad flush of feeling 
 Passed o'er that faded cheek, 
 
 1 
 
 I 
 
 i 
 
RED ROSE AND ^VIIITE. 93 
 
 And ej'cs shot forth a teuderness 
 Too deep for lips to speak ; 
 
 She hid the tears that gathered, 
 She only softly said, 
 
 '' Dear frieud, methiuks white roses 
 Are sweeter far than red." 
 
 VII. 
 But he who gazed upon her 
 
 With eye so fond and kind, 
 Know well what deeper musings 
 
 Were passing in her mind : 
 He knew that pale, pure blossom 
 
 To her was symbol true 
 Of a love that through all changes, 
 
 Had gained a holier hue. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Missed she the gorgeous beauty 
 
 Of that red rose of spring. 
 When Autumn's tear-gemmed blossom 
 
 Could so much sweetness bring ? 
 Missed he the maiden blushes 
 
 That charmed his soul in youth, 
 ^Yhen in their stead were beaming 
 
 Such looks of love and truth ? 
 
4 
 
 THE LITTLE TROUT'S SOLILOQUY. 
 
 "Who leads a life so merry as mine?" 
 Said a little brook-trout, one summer day. 
 As suug iu his crystal home he la}' — 
 Half iu shadow, and half in shine — 
 '' AYho leads a life so merry as mine?" 
 
 II. 
 
 "The lily that nods on the wave 
 Has a pleasant time, to be sure ; 
 But HER joy is never secure — 
 She's a fragile creature, and cannot save 
 Her beauty long — Eude hands may break 
 Her delicate stem, and cruelly shake 
 The pearly drops from her form of grace, 
 Then leave her to die in some lonely place. 
 
 III. 
 
 "The butterfly dwells, it is true, 
 
 In the bosoms of honied flowers; 
 
 But HIS pleasures, tho' bright for a few brief hours, 
 
 Fleet away like drops of dew 
 
 Which the sun's ardent glances pursue; 
 
LITTLE TROUT'S SOLILOQUY. 95 
 
 His life is only a vauishiDg dream — 
 It fades and dies with Daylight's beam. 
 
 IV. 
 " Then the birds — oh, how gaily they sing, 
 As they mount in the soft summer air ! 
 How joyous their lot, and how free from care, 
 Could they ever warble and soar uj) there ! 
 But wearily droops their wing — 
 And, perchance, when they seek for rest, 
 Some spoiler hath stolen their nest: 
 Or perchance, on some luckless day, 
 A fowler wandering that way, 
 Hu.shes foi'ever their heart's happy lay. 
 
 V. 
 
 " Whilst I, in this crystal retreat, 
 This dwelling so bright and so pure, 
 Am fiir more blest and secure 
 Than a king on his gilded seat — 
 What have I to dread or to fear? 
 No hand can touch me down here — 
 Through the amber walls of my beautiful home, 
 I can see every foe who may dare to come, 
 And swift as a thought, I can softly glide 
 Through my palace halls in this sparkling tide. 
 And safe in some pebbly chamber stay 
 'Til the foe and the peril have passed away. 
 
96 
 
 LITTLE TROUT'S SOLILOQUY. 
 
 VI. 
 
 " My form is graceful, my robe Js fine; 
 My food most daiuty; my bed most bright; 
 My days glide away in a dream of delight ; 
 I am safe in the storm, as when sunbeams shine; 
 Oh, who leads a life so merry as mine?" 
 
 VII. 
 
 Just then, on the surface of that clear brook. 
 Came sporting along a bright-winged fly, 
 And the boaster caught it eagerly — 
 Alas, it concealed the fatal hook ! 
 And the little trout learned, as many have done, 
 That not a creature beneath the sun 
 Hath a lot so bright, or a dwelling so fair, 
 But the Spirit of Evil may hover there. 
 
THOUGHTS IN A FOREST. 
 
 Here is, indeed, a sweet and sacred slirlue, 
 
 Wliereon to offer up the soul's pure thoughts 
 
 To the Unseen, yet Ever-Preseut Grod ! 
 
 Here is a temple worthy to resound 
 
 With ceaseless echoes of his Mighty name. 
 
 What stately tabernacle, planned by man 
 
 In his most cunning hour, can vie with this? 
 
 Behold how beautiful ! These towering trees, 
 
 Grand pillars of the structure, rise to meet 
 
 The a^ure arch above. Yon glorious dome 
 
 Is lighted by a never failing lamp 
 
 Whose ray gives life and joy. Yon fieecy clouds 
 
 Fresco their azure field with shapes more fair 
 
 Thau earth-born artist ever dreamed or wrought. 
 
 Pictures of living loveliness adorn 
 
 This sacred temple's far extending walls. . 
 
 The shimmerina; light that steals thro' wavins; bouijhs 
 
 Is softer, sweeter than those varied tints 
 
 Which steal thro' casements stained with rainbow dyes. 
 
 Each breeze that floats adown these columr.ed aisles, 
 
 Wafts balmiest incense on its viewless wings. 
 
 And, hark — the music of the unseen choir ! 
 
 How sweet the varied notes ! Aye, sweeter, far. 
 
 7 
 
98 THOUGHTS IN A FOREST. 
 
 Than e'en the deep-moutlied organ's solemn peal. 
 
 Hark yet again — the tuneful chime of -waves ; 
 The prayerful tone of low-voiced whispering winds; 
 The tender murmur of the quivering leaves : 
 
 And, over all, the notes of happy birds, 
 Whose morning orisons are offered up 
 In hymns of eestacy. 
 
 Yes, this in truth 
 Is the heart's chosen place of prayer and praise. 
 Here thought becomes Religion — here the soul 
 Feels the near Presence of the Living God, 
 And bows in adoration, lowly down, 
 Before the visible wonders of his power. 
 
THE CHILD -POET. 
 
 I. 
 
 He steals to tlie window, as evening draws nigh 
 And wistfully turns a fond gaze to the sky — 
 Its vastness, and beauty, and mystery seem 
 To fold his young spirit in Ecstacy's dream. 
 
 II. 
 
 Every soft floating cloud, every rich sunset hue, 
 Every star, peeping timidly out from the blue, 
 Calls up a new flush of delight to his cheek, 
 And wakens sensations his lips cannot speak. 
 
 iir. 
 
 Rapt and moveless he stands, with soft eyes turned above, 
 And fair, childish face full of reverent love, 
 While his low murmured words, as they float on the air, 
 Have the " music of song and the fervor of prayer." 
 
 IV. 
 
 He tells not his fancies — not even to me — 
 
 Yet, by many, an eloquent token, I see 
 
 That heaven-born Thought cometh down in that hour 
 
 To expand his young soul, as the dew doth a flower. 
 
]00 
 
 THE CIIILD-POET 
 
 Ay, the glow on Lis cheek, aud the light in Lis eye, 
 The accent subdued, and the tremulous sigL 
 All tell of emotions too deep for Lis years, 
 AH Avaken sweet Lopes tLat are born amid fears. 
 
 VI. 
 
 jMy beautiful dreamer ! My gifted young cLild — 
 Only five fleeting summers upon him have smiled, 
 Aud, already hath Poesy over him thrown 
 The spell of deep magic that makes him her own. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Already he turns from the sports of his age 
 To ponder alone o'er some 'wilderiug page ; 
 Already his mind, like a swift-pinioned dove, 
 Soars up on high thoughts to pure regions above. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Already he worships, in star-beam and flower, 
 In evening's calm hush, in the tempest's wild power, 
 That Spirit of Beauty which fills the wide earth, 
 Aud is type of the Ec-iug wLo called it to birtL. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Witli tremulous feelings, Lalf pain and Lalf joy, 
 I note tlie bright traits of my star-gazing boy ; 
 
THE CHILD-POET. 101 
 
 And 1UU8C on the duty, so solemnly mine, 
 To guard and to cherish a nature so fine. 
 
 X. 
 
 That sensitive heart, if directed aright. 
 Will thrill to most_excpisite strains of delight ; 
 But should Error mistune it, alas, then I know 
 How its fine chords would echo the wild notes of wo ! 
 
 XL 
 
 So, oft, in the deep hush of midnight I pray 
 That Heaven may shed its pure light on my way, 
 And lend mc the wisdom, the patience, the power 
 To nurture aright this most promising flower. 
 
 XII. 
 Love's tear-drops and smiles, like the rain and the sun, 
 Have fostered the bud since its being begun ; 
 Still each thought is a hope, and each hope is a prayer 
 That its blossoming hour may be gloriously fair. 
 
BUNKER HILL. 
 
 No miu-miu- thrilled the slumberous air ; 
 
 No voice disturbed the night ; — 
 Silence sat throned, majestic there, 
 
 On Freedom's sacred height. 
 Yet busy hands were toiling fast, 
 
 And anxioiis hearts beat high, 
 And stealthy forms went hurrying past 
 
 Beneath the star-lit sky. 
 Noiseless their mystic work went on 
 
 Through many a long dark hour ; — 
 No toiler paused for food or rest — 
 None quailed or sank — each patriot breast 
 
 Throbbed with a Hero's power. 
 Ah, Liberty ! in every clime 
 Thou lurest still to deeds sublime ! 
 
 n. 
 
 The morning's tell-tale beam, 
 
 Flashing o'er hill and stream. 
 
 To many a wondering eye revealed 
 
 What Night, with shadowy veil, concealed- 
 
BUNKER HILL. 103 
 
 Had Sorcerer's spell, since eventide, 
 
 Upreared the lofty mound, 
 That frowning now in sti-ength and pride, 
 
 Stood guarding Freedom's ground? 
 So secretly the work begun, 
 So silently the task was done, 
 That hostile fleets and armies near, 
 And sentry foes with watchful ear, 
 Had caught no sound whose voice might tell 
 The secret Darkness kept so well. 
 
 III. 
 
 And they — the men who reared that mound. 
 
 Beside it took their vantage ground, 
 
 Silent and sternly brave. 
 
 One feeling nerved each heart and hand ; 
 
 One deep resolve — to free their land, 
 
 Or make its soil their grave. 
 
 Unskilled in War — untaught to fight — 
 
 Unused to Battle's "fierce delight" — 
 
 They sought not, 'til the contest hour, 
 
 To show their foes one sign of power. 
 
 No burnished armor glittered there; 
 
 No banners wooed the morning air ; 
 
 No trumpet-summons floated round 
 
 To cheer with soul-inspiring sound j 
 
104 
 
 BUNKER HILL. 
 
 No cloqueut chief spake loud and long, 
 To nerve the weak and thrill the strong; 
 No pealing war-cry rose on high, 
 Luring rapt Fancy to the sky. 
 And making it seem sweet to die. 
 But all was hushed to stern repose — 
 Hushed to the boding calm that shows 
 A gathering storm — Such stillness lies 
 On Nature's breast, ere tempests rise. 
 
 IV. 
 
 From her deep slumber Echo woke. 
 When signal-guns their mandate spoke. 
 Then England's troops, in full array, 
 Came rushing forward to the fray ; 
 Then, flushed with haughty power and pride, 
 They hastened up that green hill side, 
 Trusting full quickly to subdue 
 The hopes of that poor " rebel crew," 
 Who dared, almost unarmed, to stand 
 Before the mio;ht of Briton's baud. 
 
 V. 
 
 " Thrice is he armed," the poet said, 
 "Who hath his quarrel just — " 
 This was the patriot's trust ; 
 
Tills holy sense of. right 
 Was uow his guiding light : 
 It cheered his soul, it nerved his arm, 
 And, like a saintly word or charm, 
 Still kept at bay dark powers of harm. 
 'Twas better than the wondrous shield 
 Achilles wore in olden time — 
 Each breast that bore it to the field 
 Seemed guarded by a spell divine. 
 
 YI. 
 
 The fray began — That yoeman band 
 Who ne'er before hurled Battle's brand, 
 So bravely now maintained the fight. 
 They crowned with glory that green height. 
 No pen unskilled may dare to tell 
 What deeds of valor there befell ; 
 But poet's song, and History's page 
 Shall make them famed in future age. 
 The fray went on — from hill to hill 
 Pealed the dread voice of Carnage still — 
 And, hark ! Amid the mingled flow 
 Of shout and groan and cannon's roar, 
 There softly steals o'er sea and shore, 
 A wilder, deeper note of woe — 
 It tells of some great chief laid low. 
 
lOG BUNKER HILL. 
 
 Yes — there, ere half his task was done, 
 Fell the young Nation's houored son; 
 Warren the good, the true, tlie brave- 
 God's blessing on his martyr-grave! 
 
 VII. 
 
 A moment's hush was in the air; 
 It seemed that angels hovering there 
 Bent in mute sorrow from the sky, 
 To see so true a patriot die. 
 It seemed that even blood-stained War 
 Paused, in his cloud-enveloped car, 
 And held his fieiy breath awhile 
 To watch that hero's parting smile. 
 Calm, on the reddened turf he lay, 
 His life-tide ebbing fast away; 
 His noble soul, unawed by Death, 
 Still murmuring with its latest breath, 
 A prayer for Liberty ! 
 Then, from that noisy field of war, 
 Up to some pure and peaceful star 
 His spirit winged its flight, 
 One moment, 'mid that stormy fight, 
 His comrades paused in mute regret. 
 To wipe the cheeks and eye-lids wec 
 With unaccustomed rain. 
 
Then to the strife again, 
 
 "With henvts new nerved by pain. 
 
 viin. 
 
 Fain -would the muse, too, linger here 
 
 And jiiause for one regretful tear ; 
 
 But SHOULD such drop of sorrow fall 
 
 Upon the glory gilded jiall 
 
 That wraps a chief, "who sinks to rest, 
 
 "By all his country's wishes blest?" 
 
 We weep to see a little child, 
 
 With form and spirit undefiled. 
 
 Pass in its soft unfolding bloom, 
 
 Thro' the dark portals of the tomb. 
 
 And when the mighty reaper fells 
 
 That " fairest flower of all the field"— 
 
 A maiden wreathed in Beauty's spells, 
 
 Our hearts to bitter anguish yield. 
 
 We sorrow e'en to see depart 
 
 The trembling, time-worn man, whose heart 
 
 O'crwearied with Earth's toil and strife, 
 
 Pants feebly for the better life. 
 
 Such tears may fall — ay, let them flow, 
 
 'Til ebbs the bitter tide of woe ; — 
 
 But thou, brave chief — beloved of Fame ! 
 
 No tears should stain thy brilliant name ; 
 
 What though thy life was brief as bright ? 
 
 It did not set in sudden nis;ht, 
 
108 BUNKER HILL. 
 
 But left, upou the clouds of War, 
 
 A glory like the evening star — 
 
 A lio-lit that ffuided to the road 
 
 Thou wouldst, thyself, have bravely trod. 
 
 Well might'st thou ealmly yield thy breath, 
 
 And smile serenely, e'en in death ; 
 
 For, with that mystic foresight given 
 
 To those who near the gates of Heaven, 
 
 Thou sa-w'st, methinks, the glorious ending 
 
 Of the great work that day begun ; 
 
 Saw Victory thro' the clouds descending; 
 
 Saw Freedom's sacred battles won. — 
 
 IX. 
 
 Oh, patriot chief! the vision blest 
 
 That like a tuneful melody 
 
 Soothed thy last pang to peaceful rest, 
 
 Is now a bright reality. 
 
 Far o'er Columbia's hills and plains. 
 
 Her mighty lakes and noble streams, 
 
 Her peopled towns and cities, reigns 
 
 A splendor, like the light of dreams. 
 
 On sunny hills and valleys green, 
 
 And cultured plains. Peace smiles serene; 
 
 While Plenty, thro' the circling year, 
 
 Sheds golden treasures freely here. 
 
BUNKER HILL. 109 
 
 Go, traverse all Earth's varied round, 
 A lovelier land shall not be found. 
 
 X. 
 
 And here, in happy homes enshrined, 
 Lives sweet remembrance of the brave 
 Now gone to rest — the men who gave, 
 In the dread hours of gloom and pain, 
 When War's fierce fires scorched all the plain- 
 Freely as Summer cloud its raiu — 
 Their heart's rich current to secure 
 This harvest time of blessings pure : 
 Yes, then — in peril, care and toil. 
 They planted here, in genial soil. 
 The precious germ whose fruit we reap 
 AYhile they, tlie honored toilers, sleep. 
 Well may we fondly, proudly keep 
 A record of their noble deeds ! 
 Well, cherish every glorious name, 
 And give it to the voice of Fame ! 
 Well may we let sweet Memory twine 
 Wreaths for each hero's funeral shrine; 
 And bid her, like a pilgrim beut 
 On purest, holiest intent, 
 Wander afar, to hallow still 
 Each battle-plain, each fortress-hill, 
 
110 BUNKER HILL. 
 
 Where martyrs perished to fulfill 
 Their destiny sublime ! 
 
 XI. 
 Well may a grateful people rear 
 Proud fanes, like this, uptowering here ! 
 Markiug the spot where brave men fought, 
 The sacred spot where heroes fell, 
 Long shall it waken glowing thought, 
 Long, eloquently tell 
 A tale that bids the bosom swell. 
 Time's mighty tide shall ebb and flow — 
 The hoary Ages come and go, 
 But the great deeds recorded here 
 Shall live, thro' many a changeful year. 
 In future days from far-off lands. 
 Shall come full often pilgrim-bands, 
 And, 'neath this monumental tower 
 Pausing to muse on by-gone hour, 
 Their hearts will reverent homage pay 
 To the brave spirits passed awa}'. 
 Ilei'e, too, Columbia's sons shall come, 
 From lingering voyage, or far-off home, 
 And, breathing this inspiring air. 
 And gazing round on scene so fair. 
 They'll murmur holiest vow and prayer — 
 
BUXKER illLL. Ill 
 
 A vow to keep, undimmVl, unstaiued, 
 The heritage their fathers gained ; 
 A prayer that circling years may see 
 The radiant sun of Liberty 
 Still cloudless shine, as on that morn 
 When, first its glorious smile was born. 
 
JOHN QUINCr ADAMS. 
 
 I. 
 
 In' the scenes where his laboi's began, 
 
 Where the star of his glory arose, 
 'Mid the gifted, the great, and the good of his laud 
 
 The patriot sank to repose. 
 
 II. 
 
 He fell on the field of his fame, 
 
 Like a chief when the battle is won; 
 Like a martyr, who lingered his faith to proclaim; 
 
 Or a saint when his mission is done. 
 
 III. 
 
 It was well, — it was glorious — thus, 
 For the time-honored statesman to die; 
 
 For the halls which oft rang to his eloquent words 
 To echo his last gentle sigh. 
 
 IV. 
 
 It was well for the wise and the great, 
 
 The mighty in station and power. 
 To linger around, and thus reverently wait 
 
 The Patriarch's sun-setting hour. 
 
J UN Q. ADAMS. ]]3 
 
 V. 
 
 Tliat hour was as calmly serene 
 
 As the close of a fair summer day; 
 For the miud that thro' life so unclouded had been, 
 
 Shone brightly while passing away. 
 
 He died as he lived — the pure lips, 
 So instructive in years that were past, 
 
 Still true to the spirit Time could not eclipse, 
 Spake wisely and well to the last. 
 
 VII. 
 He had lived, by his country revered. 
 
 As the wisest and best of his age ; 
 He died, by that country regretted and mourned 
 
 As a Statesman, a scholar, a sage. 
 
 VIII. 
 When the nation's bereavement was known, 
 
 Life's busiest murmurs were stayed — 
 In far-distant hamlet, in village and town 
 
 The symbols of woe were displayed. 
 
 IX. 
 'Round dwelling and temple and tower 
 The sables of sorrow were wreathed ; 
 
114 
 
 J II N Q. AD A M S. 
 
 And, softly, in dwelling and temple and tower, 
 Grief's eloquent autlicms were breathed. 
 
 When his relics were borne to the tomb, 
 
 A multitude gathered aroimd — 
 Old Age in its weakness, and Youth in its bloom 
 
 All pressed to that hallowed ground. 
 
 XI. 
 
 And all by one feeling were swayed, — 
 All, hushed in mute reverence stood, 
 
 As the last solemn tribute of honor was paid 
 To the dust of the wise and the good. 
 
 XII. 
 
 Now, silent he sleeps in the grave, 
 
 Yet his teachings our homage command, 
 
 And still, like a beacon that guides o'er the wave 
 His memory shines in the land. 
 
THE LOVERS' ROCK. 
 
 [" La Pena de los Euiamorados (the Piock of tlie Lovers,) received 
 its name from a tragical incident in Moorish history. A Christ- 
 ian captive succeeded' in inspiring the daughter of his captor, a 
 wealthy Mussulman of Granada, with a passion for himself. The 
 two lovers, after some time, fearful of detection, determined to 
 make their escape into the Spanish territory. Before they could 
 eflect their purpose, however, they were hotly pursued by the dam- 
 sel's father at the head of a party of Moorish horsemen, and over- 
 taken near a precipice. The unfortunate fugitives, who had scram- 
 bled to the summit of the rocks, finding all further escape imprac- 
 ticable, after tenderly embracing each other, threw themselves 
 headlong from the dizzy height, prefering this dreadful death to 
 falling into the hands of their vindictive pursuers."] 
 
 I. 
 
 Within a Moorish castle 
 
 Young Roclerigo lies, 
 Piuiug iu lonely bondage 
 
 For his fair Castilian skies. 
 How wearil}-, how mournfully 
 
 The slow hours roll away ! 
 At morn he prayeth for the night- 
 
 At eve he h^ighs for day. 
 
 II. 
 He knows the flower of chivalry, 
 The noble youth of Spain, 
 
116 
 
 THE LOVEllS' HOCK. 
 
 Are battliug with their foemeu 
 On many a distant plain. 
 
 His tliouglits are ever witli tlieni — 
 His brave heart yearns to be 
 
 Foremost amid that phalanx 
 Of valiant men, and free. 
 
 III. 
 Oh, better to be tramj^led 
 
 By foot of 31oorish slave ! 
 Ay ! better to be lying 
 
 Within a warrior's grave, 
 Than thus to live and languish 
 
 In fetters dark and vile — 
 Uncheered by Heaven's sunshine — 
 
 Unblessed by Freedom's smile ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 The Spring days come and vanish ; 
 
 The Summer roses blow — 
 Yet naught of all their sweetness 
 
 Can the weary captive know; 
 Until a star of beauty — 
 
 Love's star, of magic ray, 
 Kises to gild his prison 
 
 With light more fair than day 
 
T HE L V E R S ' R C K. 117 
 
 V. 
 
 The ]Moorisli cliieftaiu's daugbter, 
 
 Young Zara — loveliest maid ! 
 Hath ou Aifectiou's altar 
 
 A votive garland laid. 
 She saw the Christian warrior; 
 
 She loosed his heavy chain, 
 Then bound in silken fetters, 
 
 His willing heart again. 
 
 YI. 
 
 Now, oft they meet at midnight, 
 
 In her father's garden bowers — 
 Meet, on the brink of danger, 
 
 While fly the golden hours ; 
 Sweet blossoms breathe around them; 
 
 Soft star-beams smile above; 
 While murmuring fountains echo 
 
 Their souls glad hj-mn of Love. 
 
 YIL 
 
 Oh, season of enchantment ! 
 
 Spring time of youthful hearts, 
 \Yheu Nature seems to sanction 
 
 The bliss that Love imparts. 
 Life were one dream of beauty 
 
 Could such fond hours remain ! 
 
118 
 
 THE LOVERS' ROCK. 
 
 But fast as falling tides thoj ebb, 
 And ne'er flow back again. 
 
 VIII. 
 Young Zara's trusted hand-maid 
 
 Hath -whispered to her sire, 
 And, in his bosom, lighted 
 
 Susj^ieion's baleful fire. 
 When next they meet at midnight, 
 
 Oh, fond and hapless pair ! 
 Their bower is still an Eden, 
 
 But the Serpent lurketh there. 
 
 IX. 
 
 A fierce, hot breath of vengeance 
 
 Is mingled with the sigh 
 That pure and dewy blossoms 
 
 Send upward to the sky ; 
 They feel that Evil presence — 
 
 One whispered word they say ; 
 Then clasp their hands in firm resolve, 
 
 And noiseless glide away. 
 
 An armed band pursues them — 
 Fast thro' the gloom of night 
 
 Loud, trampling footsteps echo ; 
 And Zara sinks with fright. 
 
But the youth's free heart, exultiuo- 
 In mauly strength and pride, 
 
 Could dare a host of demons 
 For the trembler at his side, 
 
 XL 
 He whispers words of fondness ; 
 
 He cheers her more and more, 
 By picturing blissful morrows 
 
 When this wild night is o'er. 
 Yet, still she droops and filters — 
 
 He clasps her to his breast, 
 And thus speeds on from peril, 
 
 O'erburthened, yet — how blest I 
 
 XII. 
 
 Oh, Love, — young Love is mighty ! 
 
 And Zara's form is lio;ht ; 
 Her heart, so near him beating. 
 
 Seems to aid the captive's flight. 
 But, alas — the way is weary, 
 
 And perchance, the listless hours 
 Passed in that noisome dungeon, 
 
 Have wasted manhood's powers. 
 
 XIII. 
 Roderigo's footstep falters, 
 
 His heart throbs wild and fast; 
 
1 20 
 
 THE LOVERS' ROC K. 
 
 His foes come uoar, and nearer — 
 
 Oh, must he sink at hist ? 
 Before liim towers a mountain — 
 
 Its stern and rocky brow 
 'Wakens a hope of refuge, 
 
 But — can he climb it now ? 
 
 XIV. 
 He whispers to the maiden — 
 
 She lifts her drooping head, 
 As, hoarsely, on the morning air, 
 
 Ring out these accents dread — 
 " I charge ye, kill the maid alone ! 
 
 " The Christian take alive, 
 " That he may feel the tortures 
 " My vengeance shall contrive." 
 
 XV. 
 
 These words have winged their footsteps 
 
 Together, now they go, 
 Up, bravely, to the summit — 
 
 Their foes still far below. 
 Their trembling forms are weary, 
 
 Yet their souls are strong with love ; 
 The vale yawns black beneath them, 
 
 Yet Heaven smiles bright above. 
 
 I 
 
T HE LOVERS' ROC K. 121 
 
 XVI. 
 
 They look to that calm Heaven — 
 
 They kneel one moment there, 
 To oifer on that rocky shrine, 
 
 The incense-breath of prayer. 
 One fond embrace is given ; 
 
 One brief farewell is said; 
 Then down they sink together, 
 
 On a flinty bridal bed. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 The startled echoes, 'wakened 
 
 By that wild despairing leap, 
 Fly upward, loudly shrieking, 
 
 From caverns dark and deep. 
 A wail of human sorrow 
 
 Is mingled with their cry — 
 Remorse hath touched a parent's heart, 
 
 Remorse that ne'er can die. 
 
 XVIII. 
 Now evermore that mountain, 
 
 "With its frowning rock above, 
 Is hallowed by the story 
 
 Of the Moorish maiden's love. 
 There pious travelers offer 
 
 Petitions as they go. 
 
122 
 
 THE LOVERS' 11 C K 
 
 For the two unburied corses 
 Mouldering far down below. 
 
 XIX. 
 What tho' they sleep unhonored 
 
 By solemn funeral rite ? 
 What tho' their couch is gloomy — 
 
 Their chamber dark as night ? 
 Yet their dreams methiuks are peaceful, 
 
 Their waking griefs are o'er, 
 And their loving spirits wander 
 
 Where nought can harm them more. 
 
THE BROOK. 
 
 I. 
 
 A MERRY little mountain brook 
 
 Went dancing on its way, 
 And as it leaped fi-om stone to stone, 
 
 It sang a tuneful lay — 
 A lay, that to each listener's heart 
 
 Was sweet as love's low sigh, 
 And cheering as the song of birds 
 
 When Morn laughs o'er the sky. 
 
 II. 
 Xo heart could long resist the power 
 
 Of that melodious strain — 
 It hushed the fretful voice of Care, 
 
 And soothed the throb of Pain. 
 A sunny atmosphere of joy 
 
 Seemed round that brook to dwell ; 
 All things that came a-near it, owned 
 
 The influence of the spell. 
 
 III. 
 If \rild-flowers drooped 'neatH burning suns, 
 Those soft waves kiss'd them o'er, 
 
124 T II E B II K. 
 
 And lo ! tliey rose with blooming cheeks, 
 
 More lovely than before. 
 If birds grew weary in their flight, 
 
 They need but dip their wing 
 In that sweet fount, then soon again 
 
 They'd j^roudly soar and sing. 
 
 IV. 
 If little children, as they turned 
 
 Upon their homeward way, 
 Wlien saddened by the irksome tasks 
 
 Conned o'er at school that day — 
 But sported near the brook awhile, 
 
 Its joy-awaking powers 
 Soon made them happy as the birds, 
 
 And blooming as the flowers. 
 
 V. 
 If world-worn men, with spirits bowed 
 
 Beneath a weight of care, 
 Came from the busy haunts of life 
 
 To muse in quiet thei'e — 
 The soothing murmur of those waves, 
 
 Rippling so soft and low. 
 Fell on their sense like some loved voico 
 
 That charmed them long ago. 
 
THE BR K. 125 
 
 VI. 
 And blissful dreams of early hours 
 
 Were wakened by the strain 
 Until the listener's furrowed brow 
 
 Grew bright and glad again. 
 Oh, magic melody, that thus 
 
 Could Life's lost bloom restore. 
 And lend the darkened heart of Ase 
 
 o 
 
 The glow of youth once more ! 
 
 vn. 
 
 Thou tuneful little stream ! methinks, 
 
 Within thy song is found, 
 A lesson teaching good to all 
 
 Who listen to the sound. 
 Thus may the accents of a heart 
 
 To kindly instincts true, 
 Sustain and cheer earth's pilgrims here, 
 
 And lend them strength anew. 
 
THE MAIDENS SECRET. 
 
 I. 
 " I HAVE a secret," sang a youthful maid — 
 " A precious, precious secret, that must not be betrayed! 
 " Lest any one should know 
 " How it sets my heart a-glow, 
 " I'll hide it as do misers the gold they dare not show."' 
 
 II. 
 
 The maiden from her casement looked forth upon the Xiglit, 
 
 Behold, her secret written in characters of Light ! 
 
 The Moon, with fingers pale, 
 
 Traced it out on hill and dale, 
 
 x\nd the stars in mystic glances revealed the tender tale. 
 
 III. 
 Then lo ! at early morning, when walking forth alone. 
 The maiden starts and trembles at every wakening tone — 
 For the breeze upon the hill, 
 The laughing little rill 
 And the whispering leaves are busy with her cherish'd secret still 
 
 IV. 
 
 How should the minstrel birds, who have slept the whole night 
 
 through. 
 Have learned that sacred secret — and learned to tell it too ? 
 
But list the babblers now, 
 
 How tliej shout, from every bough, 
 
 A tale that calls fresh beauty to the maiden's cheek and brow 
 
 V. 
 
 And not alone she blushes — sweet flowers in lowly beds 
 
 All flush to deeper blooming, and hang their pretty heads; 
 
 While cloud and wave and sky, 
 
 "With all the landscape nigh, 
 
 Have caught, by some sweet sympathy, that rich and rosy dye 
 
 VI. 
 
 She dare no longer linger upon her homeward way, 
 
 For spirits of enchantment are all abroad to day ; 
 
 And there's such a roguish gleam 
 
 In the sunlight's dancing beam. 
 
 That it seems a merry Elf who is reading her sweet dream. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Now, maidens — pretty maidens, who list this idle song — 
 
 If ye have not guess'd the secret — 't will be told to ye ere long, 
 
 One mystic word alone, 
 
 One magic look or tone 
 
 Shall make the charming mystery forever more your own. 
 
THE LIFE- KISS.* 
 
 Fair rose the morn upon a summer sea ; 
 The waves, that had been hushed to sleeji at uight 
 Waked by the warm caresses of the sun, 
 Leaped up in frolic phaj, as children do 
 Meeting their mother's smile. The light wind rose 
 And softly kissed the bosom of the Deep ; 
 Then with a buoyant wing, sped gaily on — 
 A tuneful, unseen Spirit of Delight, 
 That carolled as it went a matin song 
 To greet the new-born Day. 
 
 Upon the breast 
 Of that bright sea a stately vessel moved. 
 With snowy sails all spread to catch the breeze, 
 And stately form serenely gliding on, 
 She looked like some " white phantom of the Wave," 
 Some fairy vision that too soon would fade 
 From the charmed gazer's eye. Her silent course 
 O'er that unclouded path, seemed like the soft 
 And tender transit of a happy dream 
 Thro' an untroubled mind. — That fresh, fair morn, 
 
 *Thc singular circumstance related in the above poem, was found 
 in a biographical sketch of the early life of ;\Iadame Soarron, after- 
 ward the celebrated De Maintenon. 
 
THE LIFE -KISS. 129 
 
 That smiling sea and proudly floating ship, 
 
 Seemed they not all symbols of peace and joy ? 
 
 Yet Sorrow, pallid guest, who ever comes 
 
 Unhid to Life's great feast, intruding there, 
 
 Darkened the rosy hours. A lovely child — 
 
 Erewhile a blooming type of bounding life — 
 
 Lay mute and pale upon the vessel's deck. 
 
 And by its side a tearful woman knelt. 
 
 To look her last upon the innocent face 
 
 Whose sunny smiles, for six sweet summers past, 
 
 Had decked her path with flowers, and made all earth 
 
 A paradise of joy. 
 
 A graceful garb, 
 Such as in life she wore, attired the form 
 Of that young sleeper, and upon her brow 
 The mother's trembling hand had placed a crown 
 Of snow-white mimic flowers. The goldeu curls, 
 Clustering around each little dimpled cheek, 
 Flashed back the sunbeam's light; and a calm smile, 
 The spirit's parting legacy of love. 
 Lingered, like some pure messenger of Peace, 
 Upon the beauteous lip. 
 
 Around that fair 
 And delicate-featured child were grouped stern men — 
 Their stalwart forms such contrast showing there, 
 
130 
 
 THE L I F E - K I S S. 
 
 As might a baud of weather-beaten oaks 
 Towering above some tender flower of spring, 
 Too early blighted by the passing storm. 
 Ah! many a cheek that morn was wet with dew 
 (3thcr than that the salt sea spray doth fling ! 
 And many a heart, that ne'er had quailed before, 
 Quailed now with fear and dread — Yes, bravest men 
 Shrank, coward-like, from the unwelcome task 
 Of shrouding that sweet image of young life 
 Beneath the Ocean's wave. 
 
 The hour had come — 
 The dreaded, parting hour — yet still, in tones 
 Broken, and full of woe, the mother prayed 
 " Oh, let me keep her yet a little while! 
 " T is soon to thrust my peerless treasure down 
 " To the black caves of ocean — soon to yield 
 " Those dainty lips which late have pressed mine own, 
 " To foul-mouthed finny monsters of the deep 1 
 " So lately closed those love-illumined eyes, 
 ' ' Their lids seem trembling now to ope once more ; 
 "And see, she smileth still ! Ye would not give 
 " That face to reptile worms, with Heaven's own seal 
 "So plainly stamped thereon ! Back, cruel men ! 
 " And let me drink the beauty of that smile 
 " 'Til something of its own pure light shall pass 
 'Into mv darkened soul." 
 
THE LIFE-KISS. 131 
 
 As thus she praj^ed, 
 He who was sovereign of that floating reahn 
 Motioned his seamen to their saddening task. 
 The mourner marked that gesture of command, 
 And, with a cry of anguish, bowed her head 
 To chisp the silent form, and hohl it still 
 In passionate embrace. Fondly she pressed 
 Her burning lips to those so icy cold ; 
 Firmly she held that pulseless breast to one 
 Throbbing with wildest tumult of mad life. 
 Such eloquent woe was in that last, long kiss 
 Tliat pitying gazers turned aside to weep — 
 Fearing to see the mystic thread of life 
 Break in the mother's heart, the while she bent 
 O'er her departed child. But what is this? 
 Hath the wild wail Love breathes above its lost 
 Miraculous power to bid the dead revive? 
 Look to the sleeper now ! Her gentle breast 
 Heaves with a languid movement, like to that 
 Of water-lilies, when the rising tide 
 Slowly begins to lift their pearly leaves. 
 The golden curls, stirred by deluding winds, 
 Have xow a motion that no longer cheats 
 The gazer's loving eye. What magic spell 
 Hath wrought this wondrous change ? Did Love's fond call 
 Reach the young spirit in its heavenward flight 
 
132 
 
 THE LIFE-KISS. 
 
 Aud lure it back to earth ? Or did a spark, 
 
 Struck from the deathless flame that ever burns 
 
 On the pvtre altar of a mother's heart, 
 
 Relume again the faded fire of Life ? 
 
 Vainly we question — Even unto those 
 
 Who saw that sleeper wake, the thrilling scene 
 
 Remained a mystery still. As steals the flush 
 
 Of roseate Morn along the eastern sky. 
 
 So stole the lovely token flower of health 
 
 Back to that fair child's cheek. Ere long she stood 
 
 Restored to joyous life — a radiant gem 
 
 Plucked from the Spoiler, and reset once more 
 
 In Love's fair diadem. E'en coldest hearts 
 
 Beat fast and warm to see that fairy child 
 
 Flitting again in gleeful health and hope 
 
 Around that ocean home. Think then what joy 
 
 O'erflowed the mother's soul. But none save Him 
 
 Who reads all hearts may dare to lift the veil 
 
 Whose sacred folds conceal a bliss so pure. 
 
PYaMALIOX. 
 
 I. 
 
 A "\TiLD, sweet dream — a vision strangely bright, 
 
 In bajipiest moment stole 
 
 O'er the young Sculptor's soul, 
 
 Flooding his spirit-gaze with hues of light. 
 
 And lending glimpses of those forms divine 
 
 That, robed in Heaven's own beauty, changeless shine 
 
 II. 
 
 While yet his fancy glowed 
 With that celestial beam, 
 lie plied the chisel, 'til its ti'acery showed 
 Hints of his Eden-dream. 
 From morn 'til midnight hour 
 He wrought with tireless hand ; — 
 If Labor's stern command 
 Could bow the cold, rude block to mortal power ; 
 If patient toil could gain the meed it sought, 
 Then would he shadow forth his heaven-born thought- 
 Then, from th' unyielding stone, in triumph win 
 The hidden form of loveliness, that in 
 Its flinty heart a prisoner, dwelt. — 
 Oh, Genius ! still is felt 
 Thy power divine ! Thou hast th' Enchanter's wand, 
 
134 
 
 PYGMALION. 
 
 That bid'st all lovely shapes before us stand. 
 'Tis thine to fashion from the common earth 
 Bright forms that wear the stamp nf heavenly birth; 
 And thine, from every humble couch, to wake 
 The slumbering Spirit of Beauty, and to make 
 Earth's wonders visible to the world's charm'd eyes. 
 
 in. 
 
 At length the toiler saw, with glad surprise, 
 
 That his long task was done, 
 
 And the rich guerdon won — 
 
 A shape, serenely bright 
 
 As the Greek's Aplirodite, 
 
 Before him smiling stood — He gazed, 
 
 With tear-dimm'd eye and soul amazed, 
 
 On the sweet vision his own spell had raised. 
 
 IV. 
 The faultless limbs, the attitude of grace, 
 Youth's radiant charm, illuming all the face, 
 The record of sweet thought that seemed to glow 
 On the pure tablet of that marble brow, 
 The tender smile playing upon the cheek, 
 The lip just parted, as in act to speak, — 
 All met the 'wildered eye, so wondrous fair, 
 They woke a fond belief that life was there. 
 
 J 
 
 1 
 
PYGMALION. 135 
 
 V. 
 Vaiuly the gazer turned him to dejiart, 
 For strange emotious clustering round his heart, 
 13adc him still lingering look, and still delay, 
 To turn from such rare loveliness away. 
 Like one in dreams, who strives, yet sti-ives in vain 
 To loose the weight of an invisible chain, 
 So he, a captive there despite his will, 
 Struggled against some unseen fetter still. 
 Soon o'er his sense, like vivid lightning-stroke, 
 The blinding flash of truth impetuous broke — 
 He LOVED the statue ! — loved the soulless form 
 Xo mortal skill could ever wake or warm ! 
 Oh ! fatal destiny ! — until that hour, 
 Xe'er had his heart bowed to Love's conquering power- 
 Now rushing forth, as long-pent waters roll, 
 Came the swift tide, o'erflooding all his soul. 
 In passionate hope and wild desire, he knelt 
 To tell the pitying gods the woe he felt, 
 And pray each bright Divinity above. 
 Who e'er had favoring smiled on mortal love, 
 To smile on his — and lend Life's mystic tide 
 To warm the cold, pale slumberer at his side. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Days past — and still he sought 
 The idol of his thought, 
 
136 
 
 P Y G M A L I N. 
 
 To breathe, iu eloquent strain, 
 
 The prayer that seemed so vain. 
 
 Days past — and still he clung 
 
 To his wild hope — still, with fond yearning, hung 
 
 Over the j^ale, mute form, whose veiled eyes 
 
 Could give no soft response to all his passionate sighs. 
 
 VII. 
 'Twas summer eve — Sweet Day had gone to rest; 
 But her last smile, still lingering in the West, 
 Flooded the world with splendor : 
 This light, so rich yet tender. 
 Made rudest objects fair, 
 And bade the beauteous wear 
 An aspect half divine : 
 Behold ! those beams now shine 
 On the white marble Shape — Its cheek of snow 
 Catches a rosy glow ! 
 
 And mark its half-veiled eyes ! — those tender beams, 
 Are they but mockery of the sun-set gleams ? 
 Are they not living rays, sent from a fount within? 
 Is't madness now, or sin. 
 To deem that snowy breast 
 Throbs with a sweet unrest ? 
 Oh, miracle most blest ! 
 The fair creation lives! Behold, th' uplifted eyes 
 
 I 
 
r 
 
 P Y G M A L I N. 137 
 
 Turn, witli a soft surprise, 
 
 Tlieir loving liglit U2wn tlic "wildcred youth, 
 
 Wlioso (Ircuni of heaven is now a thrillinc; truth. 
 
 Oh ! legend of old time ! 
 
 Fable, or myth, or whatsoe'er thou art, 
 
 Fain would the poet's heart 
 
 Win, from thy hidden sense, a truth sublime. — 
 
 Ye toiling sous of Genius, mark the tale ! 
 
 If mid your labors iu the field of Art, 
 
 Despondency assail ; 
 
 If strength and courage fail, 
 
 Yield not to black despair, 
 
 But breathe Faith's earnest prayer: — 
 
 Still ask, still hope, still pray. 
 
 And still believe — Lo ! on some favored day. 
 
 In answer to your earnest, trustful thought. 
 
 Again the olden miracle will be wrought, 
 
 And gracious Heaven the priceless boon will give 
 
 That bids the product of your labor live ! 
 
THE MET-TA-WEE* 
 
 Long hours we had journeyed o'er meadow aud mountain : 
 
 The sunbeams wei-e fervid, the way-side w^as drear ; 
 And our souls felt athirst for some pure sparkling fountain 
 
 Whose wave might refresh, and whose beauty might cheer. 
 O'crwearied and faint, in the twilight's soft splendor 
 
 We happily chanced a lone valley to see, 
 Thro' whose tranquil breast like a thought pure and tender. 
 
 Flowed tunefully onward the bright Mettawee. 
 
 II. 
 
 Oh, never, mcthinks, a more beautiful vision 
 
 Appeared to the eyes of the weary and worn ! 
 Twas a fairy oasis — a green spot Elysiau, 
 
 Like those that mid sands of the desert are born, 
 The birds hovering o'er it, poised long on light pinions. 
 
 Enamoured their forms in that mirror to see; 
 And winds, stealing out of their mystic dominions. 
 
 Breathed low as they crept by the calm Mettawee. 
 
 III. 
 
 Cloud-figures, angelic, hung over its bosom ; 
 Tall willows like lovers beut low at its side : 
 
 * This pretty Indian name is given to a. beautiful little stream tliat 
 traces its devious course tlu'ough a valley in the nortliern part of 
 the state of New York. 
 
THE M E T - T A-^\ E E. 139 
 
 "T was kissed o'er and o'er by each rosy-lipp'd blossom 
 Tliat leaned in mute tenderness down to its tide. 
 
 How fondly we lingered to gaze on that river 
 To (juaff its pure nectar — for all flowing free! 
 
 How weariness fled, — and how Care's fitful fe^-er 
 
 Was soothed by the charms of the bright Mettawee ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 That moment so dear, and that scene so beguiling 
 
 Come back oftentimes to my memory again — 
 I see o'er the landscape a soft sunset smiling, 
 
 I see the green hills and the flower-vestured plain. 
 The deep azure skj and the first star of even, 
 
 Above me in holiest beauty I see, 
 AYhile lo ! as I gaze, there's another pure heaven 
 
 Far down in the breast of the bright Mettawee. 
 
 V. 
 
 Time speeds on his pathway, and still as he's flying. 
 
 Our joy-lighted moments he shakes from his glass, 
 But the brightest and dearest emit, while they're dying, 
 
 A beam that illumines the rest as they pass. 
 These sparks of enjoyment are Memory's treasure 
 
 She hoards them — she keeps them from dark changes free, 
 Oh, long may she cherish the sweet dream of pleasure 
 
 \Ye dreamed on the bank of the Ijriirht ^lettawee ! 
 
"LIFE IN DEATH." 
 
 I. 
 I SAW an old aud withei-ed oak ; — 
 Its trunk was scathed by lightuiug's stroke; 
 Its leafless branches, sere and bare, 
 Stretched darkly in the summer air, 
 Like human arms in mute despair. 
 No wild-bird in that old tree sung ; 
 No twining tendrils round it clung ; 
 No joyous child beneath it played ; 
 No whispering lovers wooed its shade^ 
 Bereft of beauty life and bloom. 
 It seemed abandoned to its doom, 
 The doom of lone and sad decay, 
 "With nought to cheer its latest day 
 Or sorrow that it pass'd away. 
 
 n. 
 
 Yet 'twas not so — one little flower, 
 Bright as if born in Beauty's bower, 
 Nestled, those rough dark roots among, 
 And o'er them sweetest perfume flung. 
 No bud that eA-er drank the dew 
 Had fairer form, or lovelier hue ; 
 No tropic blossom, rich and rare. 
 
'•LIFE IN DEATH." 141 
 
 Fostered with fondest watch aud care, 
 
 Could breathe more sweet, or smile more fair. 
 
 A touch iug thing it was to see 
 
 That flow'ret 'neath the blighted tree — 
 
 One, purest type of life and bloom, 
 
 Aud one, dark symbol of the tomb. 
 
 III. 
 
 AVhile Thought still brooded o'er this theme, 
 
 Another sight woke sadder dream — 
 
 This was a way-worn man, whose head, 
 
 Whitened by snows that Time had shed, 
 
 Seemed drooping to its last low bed. 
 
 His eyes were dim with mist-like tears — 
 
 The frosty drops of wintry years. 
 
 His form was bowed, his steps were slow ; 
 
 His broken tones were faint and low. 
 
 As oft be spake of "long ago." 
 
 No bird of hope sang in his ear ; 
 
 No early dream came back to cheer ; 
 
 No gleam, on furrowed brow or cheek 
 
 Remained, of vanished youth to speak. 
 
 No relic of Life's summer tide. 
 
 No remnant of its strength aud pride 
 
 Lingered about that aged form; — 
 
 The old oak, smitten by the storm, 
 
 "Was not so sad a wreck as he. 
 
142 '• L I F E I N D E A T II." 
 
 Becahncd thus, ou Time's shoreless sea, 
 Slow drifting to Eteriiitv ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 Thus .<:ully musing, I beheld 
 
 A child, fair as some Fay of Eld, 
 
 Bound to the old man's side, and grasp 
 
 His withered hand with loving clasp. 
 
 Then, full of frolic, life and glee, 
 
 He climbed upon that tottering knee, 
 
 And those thin locks put softly by 
 
 To look up in that faded eye ; 
 
 Then, smiling, kissed the furrowed cheek, 
 
 And seemed soft words of love to speak; — 
 
 Meanwhile his curls of golden light 
 
 Blent with those threads of silvery white. 
 
 And made a picture strangely bright. 
 
 V. 
 
 AYhat sudden beauty round me bloomed ? 
 What new-born light my soul illumed ? 
 Bright, and more bright the landscape grew, 
 As Tliouglit assumed a happier hue ! 
 The very air that floated near 
 Breathed music tones of hope and cheer. 
 And seemed, by some beguiling spell, 
 These welcome words of truth to tell — 
 " Life is not dark and full of woe: 
 
LIFE IX DEATH." 143 
 
 " Life doth uot, like a taper go 
 
 " lu utter darkness out — all, no! 
 
 "Nature, who gives the wound, doth still 
 
 " Provide a balm for eveiy ill : 
 
 " Nature, with ready hand rej^airs 
 
 " The wrecks she makes — Each creature shares 
 
 " Her loving watch, her tender cares — 
 
 " The old oak falls not, 'til its bower 
 
 " Is birth-place of some budding flower; 
 
 " The old man dies not 'til his place 
 
 " Is filled by some young form of grace, 
 
 " Some vigorous, bounding, joyous elf 
 
 '•Who re-creates his former self: 
 
 " Thus nought is lost or cast away, 
 
 " For bloom spx-ings up 'mid dark decay, 
 
 " And Death becomes Life's natal day !" 
 
A D ]M N I T I N. 
 
 There is a harp Avliose trembling strings 
 Are tuned to siicli a thrilling key, 
 
 That zephyrs borne on lightest wings 
 Awake its plaintive melody. 
 
 II. 
 
 Oft in the hush of summer eves, 
 
 When Avhispering winds scarce woo the leaves, 
 You hear that harp's melodious sigh 
 
 Breathing a soft and sad reply. 
 To some lone Spirit of the Air 
 
 That floats on viewless pinions there. 
 
 III. 
 
 Think, if this gentle harp doth tell 
 Such piteous tale in summer hours. 
 
 How wildly must its music swell 
 
 To stormy winds, wheu Winter lowers ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 The human heart, once touched by Pain- 
 Once tuned to Sorrow's plaintive key. 
 
 Like to this harp of airy strain, 
 
 Gives forth a music, wild and free — 
 
ADMOXITIOX. 145 
 
 Like the bruised flo^ver it scarce can bear 
 
 The soft caress of summer air. 
 The gentlest words that round it float 
 
 ]\Iay waken some regretful note ; 
 E'en merry lays, by glad lips sung, 
 
 Oft jar the chords too finely strung; 
 While Friendship's voice or Love's fond smile 
 
 Arousing memories hushed awhile, 
 May thrill that wounded heart again 
 
 With echoes of its earlier pain, 
 
 Y. 
 
 Then breathe no harsh or bitter word 
 
 Anear this trembling instrument, 
 
 Lest its fine chords be rudely rent — 
 Think, if its every pulse is stirred 
 
 To mournful music by the touch 
 
 Of Love's warm breath, — oh, think how mucl- 
 
 Its gentle nature must endure, 
 
 If Anger stern, or Hate impure 
 
 Breathe their discordant blasts around, 
 
 To wake its wild, despairing sound ! 
 
 10 
 
A THOUGHT. 
 
 I. 
 
 The rose unveils its bosom to the day, 
 And freely pours its perfumed life away ; 
 Lavish of sweets, it loads each passing gale 
 With the rich tide whose founts arc slow to fail 
 Yet, spite of all it gives, the floweret's heart 
 Still keeps a portion it can ne'er impart; 
 Deep amid folded leaves that sweetness lies 
 And, lingering there, with the frail blossom dies. 
 
 II. 
 
 Thus doth the dreaming Bard unveil his mind 
 And freely give its treasures to his kind ; 
 Thus richly freight each passing wave of Time 
 With tuneful tributes from a fairy clime; 
 Yet still he gives not all — his soul retains 
 Gems brighter far than e'er illum'd his strains ; 
 Unuttered music — thoughts so pure and high 
 They cannot find a voice, but must in silence die. 
 
GRAVES BY THE SEA-SIDE. 
 
 ["Here in Uic sand, on the very sliore, .stand two headstones side by 
 side. Tlieir silence tells the same story as the fretlulness of the 
 rock rent waves beyond."] 
 
 I. 
 HAPac to those moauiug waves ! 
 Their dirge-like voices rising, swelling, 
 Seem ever some sad story telling — 
 And mark those two pale stones 
 That, ghost-like, stand 
 Upon the pebbly strand ; 
 Their silence well accords 
 "With Ocean's solemn words — 
 What do they seem to say ^ 
 What is the burthen of that mournful lay 
 The billows chant, unceasing, night and day ? 
 All else around. 
 Both sight and sound, 
 Is full of life and glee — 
 The sunbeams laugh from out a smiling sky ; 
 The sportive breeze sings as it dances by ; 
 White clouds above, and white-sailed ships below, 
 Gaily upon their azure pathway go. 
 Lightly the sea-gulls soar, on buoyant wing ; 
 Merrilv tlie home-bound boatmen shout and sing; 
 
148 GllAA'ES BY THE SEA- SIDE 
 
 While liappy children, sjiortiiig near the shore, 
 Blend silvery laughter with old Ocean's roar. 
 
 II. 
 
 'Mid all these types of joyous life, 
 
 Ever the waves, in ceaseless strife. 
 
 Ever those stones, so cold and still. 
 
 Seem whispering to the heart some tale of ill. 
 
 Who may the slumbering tenants be 
 
 Of those lone graves beside the sea ? 
 
 Thought, lingering near the spot, 
 
 Questions, yet Icarneth not ; 
 
 It asks the voiceless stones — tliey show 
 
 No record of the mouldering forms below; 
 
 It asks the moaning waves — they rise and fall. 
 
 And sadly answer, yet they tell not all. 
 
 III. 
 
 Perchance some maiden, fond and true, 
 In whose young heart Love, budding new, 
 Tinted all Earth with Heaven's own hue, 
 Met, in her grace and bloom, 
 This cold, untimely doom. 
 Perchance some Bard, in being's prime, 
 Whose thoughts flowed like a tuneful rhyme, 
 Whose every heart-beat was a lay 
 That sans the dancinc hours away, 
 
GRAVES BY THE SEA-SIDE. 149 
 
 Found all tlie dreams his soul held dear 
 Dissolve, in sudden anguish, here. 
 Perchance some Mariner, returnino: 
 From distant shores, with spirit yearning 
 To clasp, in Home's sweet haven of rest, 
 Forms whorse I'emembered smiles had blest, 
 Like beacon lights, his stormy way. 
 Met, in the place of promised bliss, 
 This doom of sadness — even this. 
 Perchance some Scholar, deeply learned, 
 Whose soul with noble ardor burned, 
 "Whose subtile powers of thought could sound 
 Eaith, Air, and Ocean's depths profound, 
 Encountered here, in all his pride, 
 A problem that his skill defied — 
 A truth, mysterious, dark and stern, 
 That Man still vainly seeks to learn. 
 
 IV. 
 Away with all this idle dreaming! 
 Long as yon quiet stars are beamin;^, 
 Long as yon restless waters flow, 
 "We may not learn who lies below. 
 Then leave them to their tranquil sleep — 
 Let Earth her solemn secret keep. 
 Yet, stay ! — one moment more we'll dream 
 Upon this wild, yet witehino; theme — 
 
150 
 
 Ci IL A y E S li Y T HE S E A - S I D E. 
 
 Is not our life like jon dark .shore ? 
 Tliere Care\s rude billows cliufe and roar; 
 There saddest iiieniories ever staud 
 Like ghostly stones upon the strand, 
 Solemnly pointing to the grave 
 Of joys we A'aiuly sought to save. 
 Ah ! were this all — then might we o'o 
 From these dark waves in hopeless woe; 
 But, look to you horizon's verge — 
 How sweetly, o'er the angry surge, 
 Fair Hesperus smiles ! 
 Oh, Faith ! thou art that evening star 
 Shining o'er Life's wild waves, afar ! 
 Thou com'st, with soft consoling ray, 
 To smile the gathering gloom away ; 
 Thou risest, when Joy's sun is set, 
 To soothe the spirit's fond regret; 
 Thou pointest upward to a sphere 
 "Where Truth, long veiled iu darkness here, 
 Shall in her own pure radiance glow, 
 And teach us all we yearn to know. 
 
MARY RUSSELL MITFORD. 
 
 W R I T T E X OX II E A R I X G T 1 I) I X G S OF II E U HE A. T 11. 
 
 I. 
 
 Ye tireless stars, that with unwinking eyes, 
 Watch near the radiant portals of the skies ; 
 Ye faithful sentinels, that ever wait, 
 Unwearied there, at Heaven's celestial gate, 
 Have ye not seen a spirit wondrous bright 
 Pass in, of late, to those pure realms of light ? 
 
 II. 
 
 Such one, alas ! has vanished from this Earth, 
 And dark-robed Sorrow sits by many a hearth >=> 
 Oh, eyes of Heaven, you've witnessed mortel woe 
 Dimming full oft the light of eyes below. 
 But never shone your calm and solemn ray 
 On grief more true than that ye view to-day. 
 
 III. 
 O'er stormy seas, like evil omened birds. 
 Darkly careering, came the unwelcome words — 
 Pale lips first wailed them on a distant shore, 
 And trembling ones, here breathed them o'er and o'ei', 
 'Til listening Echo caught the strain, and said, 
 In sad rcspouso, " The well-beloved is dead. 
 
152 MAllY K. MITFUIU). 
 
 IV. 
 
 If Sorrow rests upon this :ilieii strand, 
 
 How is it in the lost one's native hind ? 
 
 That " Mcrrie England," where each grove and gler 
 
 Have borrowed light and beauty from her pen ? 
 
 There, where each leafy nook and winding lane 
 
 Are hallowed by the memory of her strain ? 
 
 V. 
 
 Yes, there her snnny spirit lent a beam 
 Of its own light to gild the lowliest theme : 
 There oft her sportive fancy wove a spell 
 Of soft enchantment 'round each sylvan dell ; 
 And there, like poet's song with magic rife, 
 Her words aw\ak'd e'en soulless things to life. 
 
 VI. 
 
 The simplest flower she named upon her page, 
 AVill live to breathe sweet thanks in future ao-e : 
 The rural homes and haunts whose charms she drew 
 Will keep her memory ever bright and new ; 
 While hearts that love her strains will con them o'er, 
 And grow ennobled by the genial lore. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Her life's sweet task was still to bless and cheer — 
 Angelic mission, well accomplished here ! 
 
M A n Y v.. M I T F II D. 153 
 
 Now, in the fullness of its years aud fame, 
 Her spirit soars, its pure reward to claim — 
 Oh, watchful star-beams, leud your holiest ray, 
 To guide tliat spirit on its heavenward way. 
 
"OVER THE BROOK." 
 
 A K U S T I C BALLAD. 
 I. 
 
 One fair sabbath morn, in the sweet month of May — 
 My thoughts all in tune with the beautiful day — 
 I dressed me with care, and a ramble I took 
 To a snug little cottage just over the brook. 
 
 II. 
 
 Oh ! sweet were the roses that bloomed by the door ! 
 And fragrant the vine-blossoms, clambering o'er; 
 And bright looked that cot as some festival hall, 
 Yet my Bessie was brighter and sweeter than all. 
 
 III. 
 
 She blushed and looked down — then she gave a low sigh. 
 Yet I saw not regret nor reproof in her eye. 
 So I sat by her side, and her small hand I took, 
 While I asked her to walk with me over the brook. 
 
 IV. 
 
 How sang the glad birds and how smiled the bright sun. 
 As rejoicing with me o'er the prize I had won ! 
 Shall I ever forget that dear moment ? — Ah, no ! 
 Its bliss lingers yet, tho' it passed long ago. 
 
OVER THE BROOK/ 
 
 V. 
 My Bessie was mute, yet by many a sign, 
 I knew that her heart beat responsive to mine ; 
 For we saw, near the church, the good priest with his book, 
 And the people assembling just over the brook. 
 
 VI. 
 We came to the bridge — 'twas a plank — nothing more — 
 Thrown carelessly over from this to that shore : 
 Too narrow aj^peared the frail footing for two. 
 So close to my bosom dear Bessie I drew. 
 
 VII. 
 
 The stream seemed to laugh as it danced on its way. 
 And to babble the secret of that happy day 
 When first in my arms, while with gladness they shook, 
 I bore the shy maiden, thus, over the brook. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 We reached the church door, as a sweet bridal strain. 
 Pealed merrily out, over hill-side and jilaiu — 
 Those bells had a voice that, to me, plainly said, 
 ''Thy bride is the fairest that ever was wed." 
 
 IX. 
 When the vows were all spoken — the kind pastor gone — ■ 
 The cood wishes breathed, and the festival done — 
 
1/3G '-OYER THE BROOK-" 
 
 In the soft hush of evening, sweet Bessie I took 
 To my own little cottage, just over the brook. 
 
 X. 
 
 "While stars in their beauty looked forth on tlie Night 
 And smilingly sanctioned the Morn's solemn rite, 
 Two hearts filled with love, as twin flow'retswith dew. 
 Sent upward sweet offerings of thankfulness too. 
 
 XI. 
 
 That time is long past, yet its gladness remains ; 
 For Bessie still soothes all Life's cares and its pains- 
 Ever hallowed to me is the day that I took 
 My bride from her cottage just over the brook. 
 
THE POET AND THE SPARRO^T? 
 
 I. 
 
 A FRIENDLESS poet, sad and poor, 
 
 "Went fortia one morn from his bumble door, 
 
 The genial sunbeams cheered his way; 
 
 The busy streets of the town were gay ; 
 
 And smiling crowds allured his eye, 
 
 As fast and free they hurried by, 
 
 Like sparkling waves 'neath summer sky. 
 
 But he, amid that rushino- tide, 
 
 Moved ever slowly on, and sighed : — 
 
 Joy's rapid march he might not share, 
 
 For his heart beat low to the notes of Care. 
 
 11. 
 He had hoped for fame — He had sought it long — 
 Pouring out his soul in a tide of song ; 
 And oft had listened, yet still in vain. 
 For the voice of praise to reward his strain. 
 Now he pined to be in some lonely glen, 
 Afar from the noisy haunts of men. 
 Believing holy peace and rest 
 Would lull the tumult of his breast. 
 
158 THE POET AND THE SPARIIOAV. 
 
 III. 
 
 "When lieVl wandered on a weary hour, 
 He came at last to a wild-wood bower, 
 A beauteous, calm and cool retreat, 
 Where violets breathed their perfume sweet, 
 Where dainty mosses, softly spread. 
 And green boughs waving overhead. 
 Made drapery meet for a monarch's bed. 
 
 IV. 
 There Nature with an aspect mild, 
 Looked kindly on her sorrowing child ; 
 Whilst he, the wayward one, meanwhile. 
 Regardless of her soothing smile, 
 Sank down, to breathe a fretful sia-h. 
 And murmur, " Here Avould I like to die.'' 
 Just then, from the long grass waving near, 
 Came a wild-bird's note, so sweet and clear, 
 So eloquent of heart-felt pleasure. 
 So tuned to Joy's inspiring measure. 
 The listener could not choose but feel 
 Its cheering influence o'er him steal. 
 Aroused and charmed, he gazed around, 
 To see what warbler woke the sound. 
 It was not one of plumage bright, 
 Of matchless form, or wing of might ; 
 It was not one that soars on high 
 To trill its music in the sky : 
 
THE P E T A XD T II E S PA R R W. 1 59 
 
 No " scorner of the ground" was lie 
 Who chanted forth that minstrelsy. 
 A tiny sparrow ! — one that made 
 Its nest within the lowly shade 
 Of mossy dell, or grass-grown spot, 
 And happy there, with humblest lot, 
 Poured forth, from morn 'til eve, a strain 
 That gladdened all the neighboring plain. 
 
 V. 
 The moody man who heard it now, 
 Uprose with lightened heart and brow — 
 Like one just waked from troubled dream, 
 He gazed on flow'ret tree and stream. 
 What sudden radiance filled the sky ! 
 What new-born beauty met his eye I 
 Ah, would he then have wished to die ? 
 'T is sweet, when lingering storms are o'er, 
 To see the sun-beams smile once more; 
 But sweeter far, when from the soul 
 Despair's dark, sullen shadows roll, 
 To mark the dawning of that ray 
 Which ushers in a happier day. 
 As homeward, now, the poet turned, 
 Hope's heaven-lit star before him burned : 
 
IGO THE P E T A ND T II E S TA R R W. 
 
 TI. 
 
 Light was his heart, his footstep free, 
 For still the wild-bird's minstrelsy 
 Attuned his thoughts to Joy's sweet key; 
 And, on the pleasant theme intent, 
 These words he murmured as he went — 
 " His life, like mine, is passed amid 
 
 The lowliest scenes ; — his home is hid 
 
 In shades obscure, yet is his lay 
 
 Attuned to Rapture's note alway ; 
 
 And still, with gratitude elate, 
 
 As if 'twere breathed at heaven's bright gate. 
 
 Oh, let me, from the sparrow's song, 
 
 A noble lesson learn — Too long 
 
 My 'plaining heart hath murmured low 
 
 The sad, unvarying notes of woe. 
 
 How could I hope that praise Avould flow 
 
 Responsive to so dull a theme? 
 
 How could I deem the world would show 
 
 Favor, to Sorrow's oft told dream ? 
 
 Henceforth I'll woo a merrier chime, 
 
 And if in any future time, 
 
 I wake one heart, as mine this hour 
 
 Was wakened in yon green-wood bower, 
 
 I shall not then have idly strung 
 
 My votive lyre, or vainly sung." 
 
THE MODERN MAETYE. 
 
 A FUNERAL II Y JI N TO DOCTOR KANE. 
 
 " Till the Future dares 
 Forget the Past, his fate and fame shall be 
 • An echo, and a light unto eternity !" 
 
 Ye mourning ones, who now, in many homes, 
 
 Are linked in one vast brotherhood of grief, 
 
 Hush your deep voice of sorrow ! What have tears 
 
 And wild laments to do with one like him, 
 
 Our hero-martyr, who so early won 
 
 A fadeless crown of glory ? True, the flowers 
 
 Of that bright crown scarce ope'd their leaves on earth. 
 
 But theyll unfold to full and perfect bloom 
 
 In the pure light of Heaven's celestial bowers. 
 
 Think how that wreath, gained here in toil and, pain 
 
 And perils, which we shudder but to name, 
 
 Think how it looks on the angelic brow 
 
 That wears it now 'mid Paradisial joys ! 
 
 Oh ! Earth, with all your gifts, you had not one 
 
 Holy and pure enough to recompense 
 
 The brave young spirit that relinquished all, 
 
 And suffered all, in the ennobling cause 
 
 Of human knowledge and of human good ! 
 
 "What were the best awards that man could give— 
 11 
 
1G2 THE MO dp: UN MARTYR. 
 
 Honor, aud fame, and love of countless hearts — 
 What were all these, to Heaven's ineffable peace ? 
 Peace — welcome rainbow after many storms I 
 
 Then hush the voice of sorrow I He ye mourn, 
 Went not to his serene and well-earned rest. 
 Till his great task was done. Oh ! not in vain 
 He lived and toiled aud suffered I — Ages hence, 
 His pure example, shining like a star, 
 Shall light young pilgrims on the path to Fame. 
 Men shall grow wiser, holier, as they bend 
 Entranced, above the page whereon is writ. 
 In language simply truthful, yet sublime, 
 The record of his deeds. How many eyes 
 Shall weep above that page ! How many hearts 
 Throb with ennobling sympathy, the while 
 They trace the Wanderer through a pilgrimage 
 More perilous, more wild and wondrous, far. 
 Than all the fairy ones which bards of old 
 Sang to a listening world I 
 
 We need not build 
 A monument above our Martyr's grave. 
 For every generous heart will rear a shrine 
 Within its holiest chamber, there to keep, 
 Amid all sacred memories, his name. 
 And, Nature, too, like an enamoured maid 
 Who mourns her lover, shall in varied tones, 
 
THE M D E R X M A R T Y R. 
 
 163 
 
 I 
 
 Breathe eloquent tributes to the noble dead. 
 Her minstrel winds shall oft his requiem sing; 
 Her noisy troops of ocean waves shall chant 
 The story of their conflicts with the true 
 And valiant mariner, who never quailed 
 Before their stormiest might. Year after year 
 The myriad stars which gleam in winter skies 
 Shall trace, upon the illumined page of heaven, 
 The history of those long, dark Arctic nights, 
 Whose rigors could not chill, nor horrors daunt 
 The pilgrim's patient soul. E'en the wild sprite 
 That on our casement draws, in frosty eves, 
 Such wondrous pictures — he, too, shall become 
 The Arctic Hero's mute historian ; 
 And when we wake at morning, there will be 
 Outspread before us, on that crystal map, 
 A semblance of the Ice King's dread abode ! 
 There shall we see the wild, bleak, desolate shores — 
 The pathless fields of snow — the lonely ship 
 Locked in her dreary prison, and her crew. 
 Flitting like pallid phantoms here and there, 
 Battling with hunger, cold, disease and death — 
 And conquering only by the unfailing aid 
 Of one who moves amid their shadowy band — 
 A minister of life and hope to all ! 
 
1 64 T HE I\I D E U X M A R T Y R. 
 
 TVc need not trace the loved and honored name 
 Of him whose fate hath claimed our tears to-day. 
 Oh, sacred name ! — Will not the world's great hcari 
 To quick pulsations throb, when e'er 'tis breathed ? 
 Will it not shine upon the minds of men — 
 A radiant sun in the calm heaven of Thoucrht ? 
 And the bright deeds linked to its memory still, 
 Circling it round like music-breathing stars, 
 Will they not be — as sang the tuneful bard 
 "An echo and a light unto eternity?" 
 
I 
 
IIYMXS AND SOXGS. 
 
 HYMN TO THE DEITY. 
 
 Thoc Giver of all cartbly good, 
 
 Thou wonder-working Power 
 ^Yho.se spirit smiles in every star, 
 
 And breathes in every flower — 
 How gratefully we speak thy name ! 
 
 How gladly own thy sway ! 
 How thrillingly thy presence feel, 
 
 When 'mid thy works we stray! 
 
 ir. 
 
 We may forget thy glorious gifts 
 
 In scenes with tumult rife, 
 Where worldly care or pleasure claims 
 
 Too large a share of life; 
 But not in Nature's sweet domain 
 
 Where every thing we see, 
 
168 II y M N T THE DEITY, 
 
 From loftiest mount to lowliest flower, 
 Is eloquent of Thee. 
 
 III. 
 
 Where waves lift up their tuneful voice, 
 
 And solemn anthems chime ; 
 Where wiuds through echoing forests peal 
 
 Their melodies sublime; 
 Where e'en insensate objects breathe 
 
 Devotion's grateful lays, 
 Man cannot choose but join the choir 
 
 That hymns his Maker's praise. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Beneath the city's gilded domes, 
 
 In temples decked with care, 
 Where Art and Splendor vie to make 
 
 Thine earthly mansions fair ; 
 Our forms may lowly bend, our lips 
 
 May breathe a formal lay, 
 The while our wayward hearts refuse 
 
 These holy rites to pay. 
 
 Y. 
 
 But in that grander temple, reared 
 By thine Almighty hand. 
 
II Y M X T THE D E I T Y. 169 
 
 "Wlicrc glorious beauty bids the mind's 
 
 Diviner powers expand, 
 Our thoughts like willing vassals give 
 
 A homage glad and free, 
 Our souls in adoration bow, 
 
 And mutely reverence Thee, 
 
HYMN TO THE PASSING YEAR 
 
 While thy last footsteps linger on the verge 
 Of that most solemn realm we call the Past, 
 Let us, dej^artiug Pilgrim, wake a hymn 
 Meet for thy closing hours. And not in strains 
 Of sorrow or regret, be breathed the lay ; 
 But in jiroud numbers, such' as bards of old 
 Were wont to sing o'er heroes as they fell — 
 For like to one whose task is bravely done. 
 Thou goest to thy rest, Oh, dying Year. 
 Thy flying moments and thy dancing hours, 
 Fleet-footed days, and slowly-gliding months 
 Have all fulfilled their mission. Each, in turn, 
 Has brought some welcome tribute unto man. 
 Thy rosy Morns have laughed along the sky. 
 And woke the world to new-born hope and joy ; 
 Thy tranquil Eves have hushed the pulse of Care 
 And given to toiling men the sweets of rest. 
 The starry glances of thy midnight hours 
 Have filled the poet's soul with dreams sublime, 
 And lit the student on his path to fame. 
 Thy Winter, with its dear domestic joys. 
 Hath closelier knit the holy bonds of Love, 
 And riveted anew the silvery links 
 
HYMN TO THE PASSING YEAR. 171 
 
 Of Friendship's sacred chain. Thy balmy Spring 
 
 Didst, with her " dewey fingers," clothe each wild 
 
 And barren glen, 'til it became as fair 
 
 A a Eden's primal bower. Thy summer, too, 
 
 Strewing her fairy favors far and wide, 
 
 Didst make all Earth a temple of sweet praise, 
 
 A sanctuary, whence the song of birds 
 
 And incense-breath of countless pure-lipped flowers. 
 
 Rose as meet offerings to the smiling heaven. 
 
 As still, oh ! tireless Year, thy march went on, 
 
 Autumn, the loveliest of thy children, came 
 
 T(j breathe new spells of sorcery o'er the land. 
 
 Then Nature's fairest, goodliest gifts were ours ; 
 
 Then teeming fields gave up their buried wealth. 
 
 And yellow harvests spread like lakes of gold 
 
 O'er all the level plain. Then tempting fruits 
 
 Blushed bright on every bough, and like glad smiles 
 
 Dimpling a beautious face, added new charms 
 
 To all the witching scene. 
 
 Now, pilgrim Year, 
 Thy varied tasks are done, well mayest thou go 
 To thine eternal rest. Our hearts shall hold 
 Loving remembrance of thee, as a friend 
 Who brought us precious gifts — bright dreams, sweet hopes, 
 And many sacred joys. Also, shalt thou 
 Be gratefully remembered, for the wise 
 
172 TO THE PASSING YEAK. 
 
 And truthful admonitions thou hast given. 
 And if, perchance, we sometimes must recall 
 The added weight of sorrow or of care 
 Thou laidst iipon our hearts, yet will we deem 
 That this, like chastening to a wayward child. 
 Was needfid to our good. \Yiscr are we 
 For all thy lessons, and more skilled to bear 
 Whate'er of disappointment or of ill 
 Thy yet uncrowned successor may unveil. 
 
S N G. 
 
 "we've had our share of bliss.' 
 
 I. 
 
 We've had oiu* share of bliss, beloved ; 
 
 We've had our share of bliss; 
 And mid the varying scenes of life, 
 
 Let us remember this. 
 If sorrows come, from vanished joy 
 
 We'll borrow holiest light, — 
 Such sweet reflection as the sun 
 
 Lends to the queen of Night ; 
 And thus by Memory's moonbeams cheered, 
 
 Hope's sun we shall not miss, 
 But tread life's path as gay as when 
 
 We had our share of bliss. 
 
 II. 
 'T is true our sky hath had its clouds ; 
 
 Our spring its stormy hours, 
 When we have mourned, as all must mourn, 
 
 O'er blighted buds and flowers. 
 And true our bark hath sometimes neared 
 
 Despair's most desert shore. 
 When gloomy looked the waves around, 
 
 And dark the land before. 
 
17i ■• W r:' V E II A D U U II SHARE OF B L I S S." 
 
 But Love was ever at the helm ! — 
 
 He could not go amiss, 
 So long as two fond spirits sang 
 
 "We've had our share of bliss." 
 
 III. 
 These holy -watch-words of the Past 
 
 Shall be the Future's stay; — 
 Still by their magic aid we'll keep 
 
 A host of ills at bay. 
 Our happy hearts, like tireless bees, 
 
 "While reveling mid the flowers, 
 Hived a rich store of summer sweets 
 
 To cheer life's wintry hours. 
 While ^Memory lives, and Love remains, 
 
 We'll ask no more than this. 
 But ever sing, in grateful strains, 
 
 " AVe've had our share of bliss." 
 
SONG OF THE SEA. 
 
 I. 
 
 Wake, slumbering billows, wake! 
 'Tis neai" the midnight hour — 
 Now lift your crested heads, and make 
 Earth tremble at your power. 
 The winds have left their caves ; 
 Dark clouds are in the sky; 
 
 And the spirit of the gathering storm 
 Sends forth its warning cry. 
 
 Then wake my billows, wake 
 
 And dance in wild delight. 
 
 And sing and shout and leap about — 
 
 For well have good work to-night ! 
 
 II. 
 
 There's a noble youth and a gentle maid, 
 
 Who have plighted heart and hand — 
 Now they merrily sail with a favoring gale. 
 
 Away from their native land. 
 They fly from those who vainly sought 
 
 To sever Love's fond tie; 
 And on some sweet isle, where sunbeams smilo 
 
 They hope to live and die. 
 Their hearts are brave, and their dreams are fair- 
 
But their barque is frail and light — • 
 The tiuy thing, with its loving freight, 
 
 Must be your jirey to night. 
 Ye may take the youth in his manly pride; 
 
 The maid in her blooming grace, 
 And bear them off on your foaming tide, 
 
 While they cling in a last embrace. 
 Then down, far down, in my caverns dim, 
 
 Their nuptial couch we'll spread ; 
 And grand shall be the bridal hymn 
 We chant above the dead. 
 
 Then wake my billows, wake ! 
 And dance in wild delight, 
 And sing and shout and leap about. 
 For we'll have good work to-night ! 
 
 III. 
 There's a stately ship on its homeward course - 
 
 The voyage is almost o'er; 
 And a happy band on the deck now stand 
 
 To watch for their native .shore 
 How glad and bright with Hope's sweet light. 
 
 Is every eye and brow ; 
 How blest and dear, to all appear 
 
 The joys that wait them now. 
 WHiat pleasant thoughts of friends and home, 
 
 Of love and peace and rest, 
 
Thrill, like a magic music toue, 
 
 Each weary wauderer's breast ! 
 
 But come, my merry waves, aud bid 
 
 These glowiug dreams depart ; 
 
 And plaut instead, wild fear and dread 
 
 In every throbbing heart. 
 
 Come gather all your stormy force, 
 
 And bravely work awhile, 
 
 And bear the good ship from its course 
 
 To the rocks of yonder isle. 
 
 Then merry 'twill be, the strife to see, 
 
 As she nears the rugged shore. 
 
 And her timbers dash with a mighty crash 
 
 On the stern unyeilding floor. 
 
 What a stirring sound will peal around 
 
 la that triumphant hour, 
 
 When every pallid trembler owns 
 
 The Ocean-Spirit's power ! 
 
 Oh, many a cry of wild dismay. 
 
 And many an anguished prayer, 
 
 And many a shriek of mortal dread 
 
 Will rise on the midnight air ! 
 
 But heed them not my merry waves, 
 
 For this is your jubilee. 
 
 And ye may drown each note of grief 
 
 In a shout of frolic glee. 
 12 
 
ITS SONG OF THE SEA. 
 
 Ye may dance around your victim-band, 
 
 Ere ye bear them oif below ; 
 Ye may laugh to scorn the wild appeals 
 
 They breathe in that hour of woo. 
 Ye may take the wedded pair who strive 
 
 Each dearer self to save, 
 And ffive the hearts "so linked in life 
 
 An undivided grave." 
 Ye may take the mother, as she folds 
 
 Her infant to her breast, 
 And rock them both in a cradle-bed, 
 
 Thus lovingly to rest. 
 Ye may take them each and every one — 
 
 The mariner stout and bold ; 
 The youth in the prime of his glad spring time 
 
 The man who is worn and old. 
 Ye may take them all, as a conqueror takes 
 
 His foes in the conquest hour. 
 And wake the victor's proudest strains 
 O'er the band that braved your power. 
 Then, wake, my merry waves, awake ! 
 And dance in wild delight ; 
 And sing and shout and leap about, 
 For we'll have good work to night ! 
 
SONG OF THE SUMMER FLOWERS. 
 
 I. 
 
 We coniG with smiles of gladness, 
 
 Tho' chased by dread Decay; 
 And we claim a kindly welcome 
 
 For we have not long to stay. 
 Grant us a gleam of sunshine, 
 
 A kiss from Summer's breeze, 
 A few of heaven's dew-drops, — 
 
 We ask no more than these. 
 
 II. 
 
 Then, in your daily pathway 
 
 So cheerfully we'll bloom, 
 And 'round your pleasant dwellings 
 
 We'll lavish rich perfume. 
 Your hours of toil we'll sweeten ; 
 
 We'll smile away your care. 
 And we'll even bid your sorrows 
 
 A holy aspect wear. 
 
 III. 
 
 This world hath human blossoms 
 
 With nature's like our own, 
 Whose bloom, from Earth's fair bowers 
 
 May be as quickly gone. 
 
180 SOXG OF THE SUMMER FLOWERS. 
 
 Such pure, pale buds of beauty 
 Are the angels of Life's way ; — 
 
 Oh, cherish them with kiuduess, 
 While in your homes they stay ! 
 
 IV. 
 Grive them plenty of Love's sunshine, 
 
 "With Pity's gentle dew ; 
 And let the breath of tenderness 
 
 Their daily steps pursue. 
 Then while they dwell among you, 
 
 They'll brighten all your hours, 
 And when they pass to Heaven, 
 
 They'll go gently like the flowers. 
 
THE MOTHER'S HYMN TO THE 
 DEPARTED. 
 
 I. 
 
 Sleep, dearest, sleep! Love yearns to take tliee 
 
 From thy deep repose ; 
 But 'twere cruel now to wake thee 
 
 To life's bitter woes. 
 Sleep in peace — tby mother's sorrow 
 
 Shall not break thy rest, 
 For amid her grief she'll borrow 
 
 Joy to know thee blest 
 
 II. 
 
 Sleep, dearest, sleep ! — Tho' Hope departed 
 
 When I laid thee low. 
 She who soothes the broken-hearted, — 
 
 Memory, did not go. 
 Now she cheers my mournful dreaming 
 
 With thy smiling eyes, 
 'Til like rainbows they are beaming 
 
 In Thought's clouded skies. 
 
 III. 
 Sleep, dearest, sleep ! No power shall harm thee 
 Tho' I am not nigh ; 
 
182 HYMN TO THE DEPARTED. 
 
 Augel voices now shall charm thee 
 
 With soft lullaby ; 
 Angel mothers now caress thee 
 
 With a love like mine ; 
 Angel care and kindness bless thee 
 
 In thy home divine. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Sleep, dearest, sleep ! The tie that bound us 
 
 Is not severed quite ; 
 Still Love's mystic chain is 'round us; 
 
 Still our souls unite. 
 By that sacred tie I greet thee 
 
 Mid the pure and blest ; 
 By its aid I hope to meet thee 
 
 And partake thy rest. 
 
THE MISANTHROPE'S SONG. 
 
 I. 
 
 In the morning hours of life 
 I believed that no reviling, 
 No harsh word of scorn or strife 
 Marred a world so sweet and smiling. 
 Wrapped in visions pure as those 
 Which a slumbering infant knows, 
 Lived I on from day to day, 
 Ever blest and ever gay. 
 Not the butterfly that dances 
 Over Summer's perfumed flower, 
 Not the sunny beam that glances 
 Slyly thro' a leafy bower, 
 Not a thing in earth or sky 
 Half so light and free as I. 
 
 II. 
 Then — oh, then, how rich was earth ! 
 Rich in things of priceless worth — 
 Stars and flowers and birds and streams, 
 All awoke ecstatic dreams; 
 And human hearts — oh, the}- to me 
 Were, then such mines of truth and love. 
 
184 MISANTHROPE'S SONG. 
 
 I deemed them all from error free, 
 All pure as angel hearts above. 
 
 III. 
 
 Creation still is robed in light, 
 
 And Earth still graced with many a treasure; 
 
 Flowers, trees and birds, and star-beams bright 
 
 Still wake the old poetic pleasure. 
 
 But where 's the trust in human kind — 
 
 That holy faith which bade me find 
 
 The germ of good in every mind ? 
 
 Alas, the sweet belief is fled ! 
 
 I fear me that 'tis gone forever ! 
 
 The sunny light that once it shed 
 
 Around my path, now cheers me never. 
 
 I find the world so cold and stern. 
 
 So difi"erent from my first believing. 
 
 That oft I know not where to turn 
 
 From traitorous lips and hearts deceiving. 
 
 TV. 
 And now, as o'er the Past I glance, 
 I sigh not for Youth's fairy pleasures. 
 Its golden hours of song and dance. 
 Its smiling hopes, its blooming treasures — 
 I only sigh with fond regret. 
 For that lost star whose light is set — 
 
MISANTHllOPE'S S X G. 185 
 
 That trusting faith iu human worth 
 "Which brightened every early vision, 
 And made the lowliest haunt of earth 
 As beautiful as realms Elysian. 
 
LOVE SONG-. 
 
 I. 
 
 I ATorLD be with thee, love, at Morn's sweet hour, 
 When smiling sun-beams woo the earliest flower; 
 When waking zephyrs kiss the slumbering lake 
 And bid its languid breast to music wake ; 
 When every tuneful bird, with bliss elate, 
 Trills out melodious greetings to his mate ; 
 "When Nature's mighty heart, in grove and glen, 
 Beats warm with love — I would be with thee then. 
 
 II. 
 
 I would be with thee at the twilight dim, 
 
 When Earth sends up to heaven her evening hymn; 
 
 When whispering night- winds breathe their passionate sit^hs, 
 
 And soft clouds weep adieu, as day-light dies ; 
 
 When flow'rets droop their heads in fond regret, 
 
 While their pale cheeks with dewy tears are wet ; 
 
 When over Earth and all her livinff men 
 
 Love breathes its spell — I would be with thee then. 
 
 III. 
 
 I would be with thee, dearest, at the hour 
 Of starry midnight, when a holy power 
 
LOYE SONG. 187 
 
 Broods over peaceful homes — wLeu fond hearts yearn 
 To know the mystery of those worlds which burn, 
 Forever, o'er them — When they feel the gleam 
 Of theii- own love, kin to the fadeless beam 
 That lights the stars! Oh, dear to mortal ken 
 Is midnight's hour — I would be with thee then. 
 
 IV. 
 
 I would be with thee ever — What to me 
 Were Nature's music if unheard by thee ? 
 What starry night, bright morn, or evening fair, 
 Wert thou not near, their varied charms to share ? 
 Ever beside thee — In Life's spring time gay. 
 Its summer, autumn, e'en its winter day, 
 And, when our spirits leave the abodes of men, 
 Ob, most of all, I would be with thee then. 
 
BOAT SONG. 
 
 Gliding on, in a .shallop that dances 
 
 So gaily away from the shore : 
 Gliding on, o'er a stream whose soft glances 
 
 Are bright as the smiles we adore : 
 Gliding on, o'er this beautiful river, 
 
 With favoring breezes and skies, 
 Let our hearts be secure as if never 
 
 The wind or the tempest could rise. 
 
 II. 
 W^e know that dark shadows may cover 
 
 The wave that now smiles so serene; 
 VYe know the wild storm-cloud may hover. 
 
 In wrath, o'er this glorious scene. 
 But we'll trust to these moments of pleasure, 
 
 And while they are speeding away, 
 We'll enbalm them in songs of glad measure, 
 
 To sing on some far-future day. 
 
 m. 
 
 While the sky bends so lovingly o'er us, 
 And the wave looks so tranquil below, 
 
 We'll fancy Life's current, before us. 
 Ever lit by the same magic glow. 
 
BOAT SONG. 189 
 
 And we'll sing, as we glide o'er the river, 
 "With favoring breezes and skies — 
 
 Gaily sing, with glad hearts, as if never 
 The wind or the tempest could rise. 
 
4N INDIAN MOTHER'S LAMENT. 
 
 [Os-he-oua-mai, the wife of Little Wolf, one of the Iowa Indians, 
 died while in Paris, of an affection of the lungs, brought on by grief 
 for the death of her young child in London. Her husband was un- 
 remitting in his endeavors to console her, and restore her to the love 
 of life, but she constantly replied — " No ! no! my four children re- 
 call me. — I see them by the side of the Great Spirit. — They stretch 
 out their arms to me, and are astonished that I do not join them."' j 
 
 I. 
 
 I must, I must depart 
 From all earth's pleasant scenes — they do but wake 
 Those thrilling memories of the lost which shake 
 
 Its life-sands from my heart. 
 
 II. 
 
 "Why do you bid me stay ? 
 Should the rose linger when the young buds die, 
 Or the tree flourish, when its branches lie 
 
 Stricken by sad decay ? 
 
 in. 
 
 Doth not the parent dove, 
 When her young nurslings leave their lowly home, 
 And soar on joyous wings to heaven's blue dome — 
 
 Fly the deserted grove ? 
 
INDIAN MOTHER'S LAMENT. 191 
 
 IV. 
 
 Then why should I remain ? 
 Have I not seen my sweet-voiced Wcarblers soar 
 So far away, that Love's fond wiles, no more 
 
 May lure them back again? 
 
 V. 
 
 They cannot come to me ! 
 
 But I may go to them — and as parched flowers 
 
 Await the dewy eve, I wait the horn- 
 That sets my spirit free. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Hark ! heard ye not a sound 
 Sweeter than wild-bird's note or lover's lay ? 
 [ know that music well, for night and day 
 
 It echoes softly round. 
 
 VIL 
 
 It is the tuneful chime 
 Of spirit-voices; — 'tis my infant band 
 Calling their mother from this darkened land, 
 
 To joy's unclouded clime. 
 
ODE FOR THE 4t\i OF JULY. 
 
 I. 
 An anthem of glory, a soul-stirring strain, 
 Afar over mountain and valley is pealing ! 
 Now it swells on the breeze, now it floats o'er the main — 
 A Nation's proud story of triumph revealing, 
 
 'Tis Columbia's glad lay ! 
 
 And it welcomes the day 
 When she first cast Oppression's dark fetters away — 
 Oh, long may such music an amulet be 
 To shield from all dangers this land of the free ! 
 
 II. 
 
 In the tempest of warfare our fore-fathers rose, 
 
 And fearless they stood when its thunders burst o'er them , 
 
 They fell in that storm, but they sank to repose, 
 
 With the sunbeams of liberty smiling before them. 
 
 Thus our country was won, 
 
 And her glory begun, 
 For Valor inspired every true hearted son, 
 Whose life-blood was poured on the germ of that tree 
 Which now proudly shelters the home of the free. 
 
FOURTH OF JULY. 193 
 
 III. 
 Those heroes still live ia the records of fame ; 
 Their deeds are inscribed on the temple of glory ; 
 A nation reveres every patriot name, 
 And the children of freemen repeat their proud story. 
 
 As years roll away, 
 
 Still this festival day 
 Shall claim the proud theme for a soul-stirring lay ; 
 While its hallowed memory ever shall be 
 Embalmed in the hearts of the brave and the free. 
 
THE HYMN TO JOY. 
 
 UGGESTED BY A PICTURE. 
 
 I. 
 
 There lived a poet, in a by-gone clay, 
 
 Kenowned for weaving many a tuneful lay — 
 
 His own fair land paid homage to his name, 
 
 And distant nations chronicled his fame. 
 
 Each song he sung, from lip and heart would gain 
 
 The meed of praise — but one harmonious strain. 
 
 Whose dulcet notes have echoed far and wide, 
 
 Is loved and chanted more than all beside : 
 
 Sacred, e'en yet, the dwelling where 'twas penu'd. 
 
 For, as the traveler's footsteps thither tend. 
 
 He sees inscribed above the lowly door 
 
 Where the great poet lived in days of yore. 
 
 These words — whicli none may darken or destroy — 
 
 Here Schiller wrote his noble Hymn to Joy I 
 
 II. 
 
 A Hymn to Joy ! — well might the minstrel's lyre 
 Be tuned to sweetness — well his soul aspire 
 To loftiest strains of music, when his dream 
 Lured him to choose so eloquent a theme. 
 
HYMX TO JOY. 195 
 
 Joy ! is it uot a thing of birth divine ? 
 
 Methiuks where'er its holy light cloth shine, 
 
 It showeth beauties unrevealecl before. 
 
 If its pure radiance, round the lowly door 
 
 Of humblest cottage smile, that home, straightway, 
 
 Is fair as palace proud or mansion gay. 
 
 If its glad beam, o'er features dull and cold 
 
 Flash like the morn, then may the eye behold 
 
 A magic change — the dark, unlovely face 
 
 Catches, at once, the charm of bloom and grace. 
 
 III. 
 
 But joy is holiest when its ray illumes 
 
 The brows of happy children; — when it blooms 
 
 [Jpon their glowing cheeks — a stainless flower, 
 
 Pure as the buds that oped in Eden's bower. 
 
 I saw, one summer morn, beside a stream 
 
 Whose wave was calm as rivers in a dream, 
 
 A group of little ones, whose features wore 
 
 This light divine ; — and as they bent them o'er 
 
 The mimic lake, their smiling, sparkling eyes 
 
 Jewelled the wave, as stars begem the skies. 
 
 Sweet were the flowers that sprung beneath their feet; 
 
 Soft was the moss that cushioned each low seat; 
 
 While the tall tree, that like a curtain spread 
 
 Its graceful drapery o'er each fair young head, 
 
Waved in the breeze to let the smiling sun 
 Peep thro', at times, to view their childish fun. 
 A mimic ship was launched upon the wave — 
 And, as it onward moved, glad voices gave 
 A tiny cheer, which echoing gaily round, 
 Woke fond belief some fairy mock'd the sound. 
 
 IV. 
 How happy were they in their sinless play ! 
 How, from each boiinding heart, went up to heaven 
 A hymn to joy, all tuneful as that lay 
 The dreaming bard once sang! Such incense, given 
 By the young stainless spirit, in its hour 
 Of innocent mirth, is, to the Unseen Power 
 That rules this beauteous world, an offering fair 
 And sacred as the holiest voice of prayer. 
 
S N G. 
 
 I. 
 
 It Lath beeu said that Love's sweet dream 
 
 Is dearest in life's early hours, 
 When Earth is lit by Rapture's beam, 
 
 And Time moves on o'er thornless flowers. 
 
 II. 
 
 Believe it not — those happy years 
 May prove that vision fond and true, 
 
 But darker days of clouds and tears 
 Will robe it in a heavenly hue. 
 
 III. 
 
 Oh, none save hearts long tried in woe 
 Can feel Affection's might sublime ; 
 
 And none save those can truly linow 
 
 How hallowed 'tis by Change and Time. 
 
 IV. 
 
 'T is sweet our loved ones' smiles to share 
 
 In the gay season of delight ; 
 But sweeter far to soothe their care. 
 
 And weep with them thro' Sorrow's night. 
 
V. 
 
 Love's morning drcani is like a flower 
 Of balmiest breath and brightest hue, 
 
 Blooming in Summer's radiant hour, 
 
 And gcmm'd with sparkling pearls of dew 
 
 VI 
 
 But that sweet dream, in later days, 
 
 Is like the holy star of even, 
 That points, with ever-smiling rays, 
 
 To joys which have their source in heaven. 
 
THE KOVEE'S SERENADE. 
 
 I. 
 Wake ! wake, fairest maiden, and hasten ■\vitli me 
 O'er the sparkling waves of this star-lighted sea ; 
 Gentle breezes shall waft our fleet bark, ere the day, 
 To a kingdom where thou shalt be sov'reign alway. 
 
 II. 
 
 I have made thee a home on a beautiful Isle 
 Where sunbeams first fall, and where moonbeams last smile ; 
 Where fragrance floats ever on zephyr's light wing 
 And wild-birds their sweetest of melodies sing. 
 
 III. 
 L have placed near thy dwelling the vines you love best ; 
 With thy favorite blossoms its gardens I've dressed ; 
 I have decked it with spoils from the land and the sea, 
 To make it, love, worthy thy beauty and thee. 
 
 IV. 
 
 I have stolen bright gems from the mermaid's deep cave, 
 And plucked the rich coral she hides in the wave ; 
 I have been 'neath the darkest and stormiest tide, 
 To gather its purest of pearls for my bride. 
 
200 ROVER'S SERENADE. 
 
 Then come, dearest maiden — haste, baste o'er tlie deep, 
 AVIiile its waves are all hushed, and the winds all asleep , 
 While the Storm-spirit hides in his dark home afar, 
 And Love smiles serene from each beautiful star. 
 
 VI. 
 Ob, baste thee — my comrades, true-hearted and brave, 
 Give the signal that calls me again o'er the wave : 
 Our fleet bark is ready — with Morn's early smile 
 It shall anchor thee safe near thy own fairy Isle. 
 
A HYMX OF THANKS. 
 
 As a frail flower, o'erburthened with sweet dew, 
 
 Bends 'neath the radiant flood, so niy full heart 
 
 Bendeth this morn beneath a spai'kling tide 
 
 Of inexpressible joy — The crystal drops 
 
 That weigh the blossom down descend from heaven, 
 
 And so, from heaven descends this precious flood 
 
 Of grateful feeling. 
 
 Jlany a weary day, 
 A.nd woeful night my shuddering soul hath known 
 The chilling grasp of Fear — Fear for the life 
 Of a beloved child. Hour aftei' hour 
 [ bent me o'er his couch, noting the si^'ns 
 That suflPering traced upon his beauteous brow. 
 When every art the skilful Healer tried 
 Had failed to stay the dread march of Disease ; 
 When all my yearning love could aid no more ; 
 And when sweet Hope had smiled her last, and died. 
 Then, deep in stillest chambers of my heart, 
 Hiding the woe that hath no type in words, 
 I stood in the mute calmness of despair. 
 Waiting the last dread change. But God was good I 
 And tho' the prayers that ceaselessly arose 
 From my bowed soul, went voiceless up to heaven, 
 
202 A HYMN OF THANKS. 
 
 Yet was each mute appeal accepted tliei'c ; 
 And UDSwered graciously. 
 
 There came a change — 
 Not such as I had feared, but a most sweet 
 And gladsome change ! The fainting pulse of life 
 Regained its tranquil beat ; the healthful glow 
 Stole slowly back to pallid lip and brow : 
 The dim and half closed eye, once more sent forth 
 Its ray of glorious beauty. He was saved ! 
 The child of many a tearful ^^rayer was saved — • 
 And when the light of that most welcome truth 
 Broke like the morn, this flood of holiest joy, 
 Which I have likened to the balmy dew 
 That pitying Night distils on perishing flowers, 
 'er-filled the life-cells of my drooping heart, 
 And bade it lift itself to hope and heaven. 
 
DIRGE FOR A DEPARTING RACE 
 
 I. 
 
 Amid the cheerful sounds that float 
 
 Around our pleasant homes, 
 An under-toue of Sorrow's note, 
 
 In mournful music comes. 
 
 II. 
 It lingers round the sun-lit mount 
 
 And o'er the shadowy vale, 
 Breathes soft in every murmuring fount, 
 
 And sighs in every gale. 
 
 III. 
 
 ^Yilder, within our forest shades, 
 
 And near our mighty lakes, 
 And o'er the prairie's broad expanse. 
 
 The plaintive cadence wakes. 
 
 IT. 
 
 The Spu'it of Nature breathes this chant 
 
 In every sylvan place — 
 Methinks it is her farewell hymn 
 
 To a departing race. 
 
204 DIRGE FOR A DEPARTING RACE. 
 
 V. 
 
 Methinks she mourns the Red Man's fate, 
 
 As, with a heavy heart, 
 Depressed, dishonoured, desolate, 
 
 He turns him to depart. 
 
 VI. 
 
 His father's consecrated tomb, 
 His children's birth-place too. 
 
 His " hunting grounds," his well loved home- 
 He bids them all adieu. 
 
 VII. 
 Lone, exiled remnant of a race 
 
 Once happy jfree and brave ; — 
 In all this beauteous heritage 
 
 He can but have — a grave ! 
 
 VIII. 
 Behind him lie, forever lost, 
 
 The scenes forever dear ; 
 Yet this sad farewell scarce doth cost 
 
 His stoic soul a tear. 
 
 IX. 
 Before him lies his weary way, 
 On toward the setting sun : 
 
DIRGE FOR A DEPARTING RACE. 205 
 
 His hopes are fled, his home is left, 
 His pilgrimage begun. 
 
 X. 
 
 Ay, Natui'e, geutle mother, mourn — 
 Mourn for thy hapless child ; 
 
 A requiem give in every gale, 
 A tomb in every wild. 
 
 XI. 
 
 Let thy fair scenes, where once he dwelt. 
 
 His tragic history tell ; 
 And let thy voice, in varying notes, 
 His funeral anthem swell. 
 
T H E W INTER W R E A T II.* 
 
 THE A U T U IM N WIND. 
 
 I. 
 
 "What says the autumu wind to thee, 
 
 Thou merry-hearted child? 
 What says the autumu wiud to thee, 
 
 With its cadence sad and wild ? " 
 
 II. 
 
 Then a flood of light, like that which runs 
 
 On a fitful summer day, 
 O'er waving fields of golden grain, 
 
 On the boy's glad face did play; 
 And happy thoughts, from his azure eye 
 Flashed forth, like stars from a twilight sky, 
 As he paused in his sport to make reply — 
 
 *The poems comprised under this title were written during a sea- 
 son of domestic affliction. This will account to the reader for the 
 melancholy nature of their subjects. The little wintry chaplet, wo- 
 ven in the chill atmosphere of sorrow, is dedicated to the memory of 
 a dear child, gone from earth, but not lost to the world of love. 
 
21U T II E A U T U M N W I N D. 
 
 III. 
 
 "What says the autumn wind to me? 
 
 Oh, it singeth a merry song! 
 A song of the breezy hills and plains, 
 
 Where my kite soars far and long ; 
 It tells sweet tales, as it hurries past, 
 
 Of the waving chestnut tree, 
 With its brown nuts falling thick and fast — 
 
 Enough for the squirrel and me. 
 
 It whispers too of ponds and streams 
 
 That will soon be frozen o'er; 
 Where I shall sing, and my skates will ring 
 
 As they skim o'er the crystal floor. 
 Oh, the autumn wind — I love it well ! 
 
 It hath many a pleasant chime — 
 And, list ! — even now you may hear it tell 
 
 Of a happier season drawing near, 
 
 The happiest one of all the year, 
 
 The merry Christmas time." 
 
 IV. 
 "What says the autumn wind to thee, 
 
 Thou mourner sad and pale ? 
 What says the autumn wind to thee. 
 
 With its deep and solemn wail ?' 
 
THE AUTUMN WIND. 211 
 
 Y. 
 
 Then, over that mourner's furrowed brow 
 
 A beam of memory passed ; 
 It was faint and cold as a misty light 
 
 On snow- veiled landscaj^es cast ; 
 And it only served, like the feeble ray 
 
 Of a midnight taper, to betray 
 
 The gloom it could not smile away. 
 Solemn and low, as a spirit's sigh, 
 Was the tremulous voice that made reply- 
 
 VI. 
 " "\Yhat says the autumn wind to me ? 
 
 Oh, it speaks in saddest tone — 
 Like a ship-wrecked soul on a stormy sea 
 
 I shudder at its moan. 
 It tells me of a wintry stream, 
 
 AYith a dark and leafless shore. 
 Which the beauty of returning spring 
 
 Can brighten, never more. 
 It whispers tales of earth's lone ^■ales, 
 
 AYhere sleep the earl}- dead, 
 While withered leaves fall sadly down 
 
 On each cold, silent bed. 
 It breathes a dirge for summer flowers 
 
 That perished in their pride ; 
 
212 THE AUTUMN WIND. 
 
 It wails o'er sweet unfoldiug buds, 
 
 That in their promise died. 
 Oh, the autumu wind ! — iu fear and jDain 
 
 I list its mournful chime, 
 And fain would hide me from the strain 
 
 In some serener clime. 
 Methinks, on heaven's bright shore 
 
 Where spring smiles all the year, 
 
 This sound, so wild, so drear, 
 "Would chill the heart no more." 
 
THE BIRD OF PASSAGE. 
 
 I. 
 
 It lighted on our shores in early spring, 
 A wandering voyager from a radiant clime ; 
 It came in days of cloud and storm, to bring 
 Promise of summer time. 
 
 n. 
 
 It warHed songs the sweetest ever heard ; 
 Songs that with happy tears o'er-brimmed the eye- 
 We listened, asking " Is it sprite or bird, 
 Or seraph from the sky ? " 
 
 III. 
 A winged joy — a shape of airy grace — 
 It flitted gayly round its new-found nest ; 
 And Earth, uplifting cloud-veils from her face, 
 Smiled on the welcome guest. 
 
 IV. 
 
 April's moist eyes, in many a laughing ray, 
 Made rich atonement for the tearful past ; 
 And winds, that long had piped a wintry lay, 
 Hushed now each stormy blast. 
 
211 THE BIRD OF PASSAGE. 
 
 V. 
 
 The ylumberiug flowrcts, heariDg 'mid their dreams 
 A merry call, awoke — aud, robed iu state, 
 Came smiling forth by sunlit hills and streams, 
 To greet their tuneful mate. 
 
 YI. 
 How sweet it was, through all the summer hours, 
 To list that joyous songster's glad refrain ! 
 Ah, ne'er before, methinks, did earthly bowers 
 Echo such heaven-born strain. 
 
 VII. 
 Our hearts, o'erflooded by a tide of bliss, 
 Beat heavily and faint — a shadowy fear 
 AVhispered, for cold and changeful clime like this, 
 Such notes were all too dear. 
 
 VIII. 
 With fleetest steps the dancing hour.s went by : 
 And Summer, like a dream of beauty, fled. 
 Then came pale Autumn — tear-drops in her eye, 
 And sorrow in her tread. 
 
 IX. 
 
 The skies grew dim — to us they still seemed bright; 
 The flowrets drooped — we wept not their decay : 
 Had we not still a fountain of delight 
 
 To cheer each darkened day? 
 
THE BIRD OF PASSAGE. 216 
 
 X. 
 
 But -when November's chilling winds did come, 
 They breathed grim desolation o'er the land; 
 They sent our wandering minstrel from its home, 
 To a far distant strand. 
 
 XL 
 
 Then hushed were notes that bade all hearts rejoice, 
 And mute each haunt so musical before; 
 For Echo, missing her lost playmate's voice. 
 Would wake to joy no more. 
 
 XII. 
 Ah, me ! how cheerless was the winter scene ! 
 How slowly dragged each weary day along, 
 Wanting the tender joys that still had been 
 
 Linked to that summer song. 
 
 XIII. 
 Yet o'er the depths of this " divine despair," 
 Arose a light, that, like a rainbow, spanned 
 The sea of grief — and 'neath its archway fiiir 
 "We saw Hope, smiling stand. 
 
 XI Y. 
 She bade us still each wild and vain regret; 
 She pointed o'er dark waves, to tropic bowers. 
 Where birds of passage flew, to carol yet 
 
 Glad sonjTs through summer hours. 
 
21G THE BIRD OF PASSAGE. 
 
 XV. 
 
 "Not lost," she said, "nor hushed for aye, the lay, 
 Whose loving cadence once was all your own; 
 Still doth it sound, in realms of brighter day, 
 With a diviner tone. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 " And think, when here dark wintry tempests rise, 
 How sweet to know they cannot reach that shore 
 Where dwells your lost delight, 'neath cloudless skies 
 Sheltered for ever more." 
 
OUR CHRISTMAS 31 R N. 
 
 I. 
 Heayex robed in blue — earth clad in snow! 
 Each seemed a festal garb to wear, 
 While merry bells, in tuneful flow. 
 Sent gladness thro' the frosty air. 
 Within our home Peace seemed to smile — 
 Kindred were met, the feast was spread ; 
 While Love, from every eye and lip, 
 The heart's best light and music shed. 
 
 II. 
 
 Yet, to our little household band. 
 How sadly came that hallowed morn ! 
 Since last we hailed the welcome day, 
 What joy had fled, what grief was born ! 
 One Christmas morn so deeply bless'd, 
 So rich we could not ask for more, — 
 Another — lo ! the robber. Death, 
 Had stolen half Life's precious store. 
 
 III. 
 We sought to smile — we sourrht to cheer 
 Each other's stricken hearts, in vain — 
 
218 
 
 OUR CHRIS T U A S U R N. 
 
 Love could not likle tlie fre(|uent tear, 
 IS or veil the bosom's throb of pain. 
 Softly we woke the voice of song — 
 The trembling notes soon died away 
 In thrilling memories of sweet tones 
 That used to join each festive lay. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Silent we gathered to the board, 
 So merry in the vanished years — 
 Alas, we missed one dear, bright face, 
 And all our feasting turned to tears. 
 We I'ose and sought the lighted hearth — 
 No warmth or eo-mfort met us there ; 
 The lost one's little vacant seat 
 Changed our mute sorrow to despair. 
 
 V. 
 
 That weary day — it went at last. 
 As each long day of misery will ; 
 But all the fond regrets it brought. 
 Darken the world of memory still. 
 Oh, ye, whose homes and hearts are bless'd 
 With all your loved and cherished flowers, 
 Pray, pray to heaven ye ne'er may have 
 So .«ad a Christmas Morn as ours. 
 
THOUGHTS IX WIXTEIl. 
 
 T. 
 Earth vails the brightness of her beauty novr, 
 And wears a robe, dark as her clouded brow : 
 A childless mother, living in the Past, 
 ^Yith buried hopes and joys too sweet to last, 
 Silent and tearful, thro' these wintry hours, 
 She mourns her lost — her smiling brood of flowers. 
 
 II. 
 
 They all have fled — All gone to dark decay — 
 Those glorious beings of the summer day ; 
 Pure were their lives, and sweet their latest breath;- 
 Like sinless children, early claimed by Death, 
 Gently they passed away. By hill and stream 
 They smile no more, save in fond memory's dream. 
 
 III. 
 
 Well may the Earth look sad — well may she wear 
 
 A mourning raiment for liev children fair ; 
 
 "Well may her birds, so tuneful in the fpriug, 
 
 Flit songless by upon a joyless wing ; 
 
 "Well may her countless rills in silence glide 
 
 By the low graves, where their sweet playmates died. 
 
r2G THOUGHTS IN W I N T E R. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Yet brief will be pale Sorrow's gloomy reign ; 
 Soon Nature's heart will throb with joy again; 
 Soon the warm suu and soft caressing wind, 
 Kissing to life each slumbering bud they find, 
 Will people hills and plains and garden bowers 
 With a new race of lovely, smiling flowers. 
 
 V. 
 
 Not so with thee, sad heart — oh, never more 
 Can rolling Time thy blissful spring restore ! 
 Often shall Earth's fair summers come and go, 
 "Whilst thou must still but wintry seasons know ; 
 Thy perished buds, thy dear ones in the tomb, 
 No breath of love can wake to life and bloom. 
 
THE DAWN OF DAY, 
 
 Is this the dawn of day, mother ,- 
 
 Is this the dawn of day ?" 
 I heard a voice of melody, 
 
 In lisping accents say. 
 I turned towards the speaker. 
 
 And saw a little child. 
 Upon whose innocent, young brow 
 
 Angelic beauty smiled. 
 
 11. 
 
 The early sunbeams, playing 
 
 Amid her golden hair, 
 Enwreathed it with the halo 
 
 That pictured seraphs wear. 
 She seemed, herself, a symbol 
 
 Of Morning's lovely hour — 
 Pure as its sparkling dew-drop, 
 
 Fail' as-its opening flower. 
 
 III. 
 
 " Is this the dawn of day, mother ':" 
 And she who made reply. 
 
THE DAWN OF D A Y, 
 
 Gazed fir^t upon lier treasure, 
 With fond, admiring eye ; 
 
 Yet something'kin to sorrow 
 Was in that lovin^c c-aze — 
 
 o to 
 
 The mother's pallid cheek foretold 
 That brief might be her days. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Perchance this thought ojipress'd her; 
 Perchance she feared to leave 
 Her dear one, lonely, in a world 
 Where every heart must grieve ; 
 For her voice was sad and solemn 
 
 As she did softly say — 
 " With TiiEE, my precious little one, 
 " It IS the dawn of day." 
 
 When Autumn leaves were falling 
 
 I saw that child again, 
 But then, alas ! she moaning lay 
 
 Ujiou a couch of pain — 
 The sad, pale mother, paler grown, 
 
 Bent ever fondly there ; 
 Her hands employed in loving tasks. 
 
 Her soul engaged in prayer. 
 
THE D A W N OF DA Y. 223 
 
 YI. 
 
 Oh, many cLays of suffering, 
 
 And many nights of dread. 
 That gentle child lay tossing 
 
 Upon her feverish bed. 
 Oft, in her wild delirium, 
 
 Sweet, thrilling words she'd say ; 
 And once she softly whispered 
 
 "Is it the dawn of day ? " 
 
 VII. 
 
 The watcher shivered at these words, 
 
 And felt the hour was nigh, 
 "When never more a joyful dawn. 
 
 For her would light the sky. 
 Oft had she prayed for life to rear 
 
 The bud so fondly nursed ; 
 And now the Mighty Keaper 
 
 Would take that sweet bud first. 
 
 VIII. 
 Too soon the fatal moment came — 
 
 The tender flower lay low. 
 And the pde mourner o'er it breathed 
 
 This gentle plaint of woe — • 
 
i 
 
 '2-^i 
 
 THE DAWN OE DAY. 
 
 " My sainted child ! tho' darkest night 
 
 Glooms o'er thy mother's way, 
 Yet — blissful thought — thy pangs are past — 
 
 With THEE 'tis dawn of day. " 
 
SOLITUDE. 
 
 Call ye it solitude, to dwell apart 
 
 From the world's busy crowd ? It is not so — 
 
 That fairy realm, the kingdom of the heart. 
 
 Is thronged with lovelier shapes than those that glow 
 
 "With youth and beauty, in the festal hall. 
 
 "Whene'er from Pleasure's gilded haunts I roam 
 
 To some secluded scene — soon, at my call, 
 
 A host of airy beings round me come ; 
 
 The sweet creations of the poet's brain. 
 
 The graceful shapes that people Fancy's dream, 
 
 AH smiling come — they speak in gentlest strain, 
 
 They bid my thoughts with holiest gladness beam, 
 
 'Til my rapt spirit, in extatic mood. 
 
 Thrills to the potent charm of such sweet solitude. 
 
THE WAND EKING DOVE. 
 
 I. 
 
 A DOVE fluttered in at ca window 
 
 Widely opened, one fair summer day 
 And gave a new joy to two children 
 
 Who were busied with innocent play. 
 They caught and caressed the poor trembler ; 
 
 They called it by names sweet and dear; 
 And they sought, by fond tokens of kindness, 
 
 To quiet its heart-throbs of fear. 
 
 11. 
 
 Yet ever it fluttered and panted, 
 
 And shrank in the wildest alarm, 
 While still its soft eyes' timid glances 
 
 Seemed asking protection from harm. 
 Then a cage was procured — large and airy — 
 
 Finely gilded, and furnished with care, 
 And the little ones shouted with rapture 
 
 When the stranger was domiciled there. 
 
 III. 
 Oh, never before was a wanderer 
 
 So welcomed, so watched, so caress'd ! 
 
 1 
 
THE AV A N D E R I N G DOVE. 227 
 
 Never found weary bird of the woodlands 
 Such sheltered and love-guarded nest. 
 
 Every morning those two happy children 
 Came smiling, like Dawn's rosy hours, 
 
 To replenish the dove's pretty dwelling 
 With food, with fresh water and flowers. 
 
 IV. 
 
 But alas ! all their gentle endeavours 
 
 Failed to render captivity sweet — 
 The prisoner, like many before him. 
 
 Drooped and pined in his gilded I'etreat 
 What was kindness, or care, or protection, 
 
 Or dainties so lovingly given? 
 AA'hat were all, to a bird that was pining 
 
 For the breeze and the sunshine of heaven ? 
 
 V. 
 
 Still their favourite fretted and languished : 
 
 Then sad grew each gentle young heart, 
 And, with sorrow, at last they consented 
 
 To let the poor captive depart. 
 Oh ! dearly-loved, innocent children ! 
 
 The}^ had ne'er known the rude touch of Care ; 
 To relinquish a treasure so valued, 
 
 "Was a grief that they scarcely could bear. 
 
22S THE WANDERING DOVE. 
 
 With fast-falling tears thej caressed it, 
 
 And stroked its soft plumes o'er and o'er — 
 Asking often, in tremulous accents, 
 
 " When freed, shall Ave see it no more ? " 
 A moment they paused at the window — 
 
 Fondly hoping, e'en then, it might stay. 
 But the instant its wings were unfettered 
 
 It spread them, and floated away. 
 
 VII. 
 Far up, over tree-tops and dwellings, 
 
 Far up to the shadowless sky. 
 With a wing growing stronger and stronger, 
 
 It soared until lost to the eye ! 
 Like a fair morning suddenly clouded ; 
 
 Like a sweet dream that fades with the night; 
 Like the hush of triad sonff was the silence 
 
 That followed the wanderer's flight. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 The boy, with his wild earnest glances, 
 And featui'es o'ershadowed by pain, 
 
 Watched it long, then in petulance murmured 
 " I want it to come back again." 
 
 But his fair little playmate sighed softly, 
 And her sweet face more beautiful grew 
 
THE WAN'DERIXG DOVE. 229 
 
 As still gazing heavenward, she whispered, 
 " Oh, could I but fly up there too ! " 
 
 IX. 
 
 Then, the mother, who lingered a-near her 
 
 And heard that soft wish spoken low, 
 Looking into the face of her darling. 
 
 Seemed to read there some wild dream of woe. 
 What shadow of coming affliction 
 
 Had suddenly darkened the day? 
 What dread voice, prophetic of evil, 
 
 Bade her haste to her chamber and pray ? 
 
 X. 
 
 There''s a joy near akin to pale sorrow ; 
 
 There arc hopes only fostered by tears ; 
 There arc some of earth's treasures we cherish 
 
 With a love overshadowed by fears. 
 Sucli a joy, such a hope felt that parent, 
 
 Whenever she looked on the fair 
 And delicate child, whose soft beauty 
 
 Seemed native to heaven's pure air. 
 
 XI. 
 
 Ah ! these shadows foreboded the tempest 
 That soon on that bright home would fall ! 
 
 It came — and it blighted the blossom 
 Most cherished, most precious to all. 
 
230 THE WANDERING DOVE 
 
 No tokens of tender affection, 
 
 No sweet bonds of holiest love, 
 Could fetter to earth the bright wanderer 
 
 Who had strayed from some pure realm above. 
 
 XII. 
 One morn, from its beautiful temple, 
 
 That sinless young spirit took flight ; 
 Like the dove speeding joyously homeward, 
 
 It soared up to regions of light. 
 'Mid a hush of unspeakable sorrow. 
 
 There rose one loud murmur of pain ; 
 The brother, bereft of his playmate, 
 
 Cried, " I want her to come back again." 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Then, another bereaved one remembered 
 
 Tlie soft plaint of grief she had heard, 
 When that dear one, now gone to the angels, 
 
 Had mourned o'er the flight of her bird. 
 Oh ! forgive the wild, passionate yearning, 
 
 The anguish she could not subdue — ■ 
 As, wistfully searching the heavens, 
 
 She prayed, " Let me soar up there, too." 
 
OUK BELOVED ONE. 
 
 I. 
 
 She slumbers on the liill-skle 
 
 Where oft she played of yore ; 
 She slumbers on the hill-side 
 
 Where she never will play more. 
 The wild flower blooms as brightly 
 
 On the turf, that shrouds her breast, 
 As erst it bloomed, when lightly 
 
 That mossy turf she prest. 
 
 11. 
 The robin singeth daily 
 
 'Mid boughs that o'er her wave, 
 And the sunshine danceth gaily 
 
 Upon her early grave. 
 The beautiful bright river 
 
 Goes singing on its way. 
 And soothes her slumbers ever, 
 
 As once it cheered her play. 
 
 III. 
 Ofttimes our footsteps wander 
 By that hill-side green and fair 
 
U R BELOVED ON E. 
 
 While our loving hearts still ponder 
 On the lost one sleeping there ; 
 
 'Til busy Fancy dreameth 
 A dream divinely dear, 
 
 And the beloved one seemeth 
 To come and linger near. 
 
 lY. 
 
 Then mystic thoughts brood o'er us : 
 
 "VVe see a shadowy hand 
 Pointing the way before us 
 
 To a happy Eden-land. 
 Then low, soft music, stealing 
 
 On the hush'd and breathless air, 
 Awakes the faith, the feeling 
 
 That angels hover there. 
 
 V. 
 
 Oh beautiful, beloved one ! 
 
 Tho' thou art gone to rest ; 
 Though all too soon thou loft us, 
 
 Thou bright and peerless guest ! 
 Yet we have not wholly lost thee ; 
 
 Still, from thy grave's low shrine, 
 There comes a voice whose teaching 
 
 Is fraught with hope divine. 
 
THE MOTHER'S DREAM. 
 
 T. 
 
 Ix a soft and sheltered valley, 
 One of England's loveliest valleys, 
 By the marge of winding river, 
 
 Rose a mansion proudly fair. 
 Stately trees were waving near it; 
 Sweetest flowers were blooming round it; 
 Art and Nature vied to lavish 
 
 All their rich adornments there. 
 
 II- 
 
 Oh, to see its lofty turrets 
 
 Gleaming thro' the soft green foliage ! 
 
 And to mark its smiling casements 
 
 Flashing back the sunbeams' glow I 
 And to list the sounds of gladness — 
 Song of birds, and laugh of fountains, 
 Thrilling all the air with music, 
 
 Who could deem it home of woe ? 
 
 III. 
 Yet, like smiling face tliat veileth 
 Wounded spirit's secret anguish, 
 
234 THE MOTHER'S D R E A M. 
 
 Bloom aud beauty 'round that mansion 
 
 Only veiled deep gloom ■\vitlilu. 
 There, in hopeless sorrow pining, 
 Sat a pale and stricken woman, 
 Weeping, ever — weeping sorely — • 
 
 Weeping 'til her tears were sin. 
 
 lY. 
 
 She had once a gentle daugliter; 
 
 Only one — a child so lovely 
 
 That she won all hearts to worship — 
 
 Happy mother most of all. 
 Sparkling gem of light and beauty ; 
 Sweetest fount of love and rapture, 
 She, the little dancing fairy — 
 
 How she graced that grand old hall ' 
 
 Y. 
 
 Brighter than the sportive sunbeams; 
 Fairer far than opening roses ; 
 Happier e'en than life of song-birds 
 
 Seemed her sinless sojourn there. 
 But, in all her budding beauty, 
 Went the being loved so wildly. 
 Went away to dwell in Eden — 
 
 Clime most fit for flower no fair. 
 
T H E MOTHER'S D R E A M. 
 
 YI. 
 
 Then arose a dirge of sorrow — 
 Master, servant, guest aud neighbor, 
 E'en the dumb domestic creatures 
 
 Seemed to wail the dear one gone. 
 Calmer was the mother's weeping; 
 Meeker, gentler her sad 'plaining, 
 Yet, when other griefs were ended. 
 
 Hers still breathed its ceaseless moan. 
 
 YTI. 
 
 In a lone and gloomy chamber. 
 Closed against the cheerful sunbeams, 
 Sat the mourner, mute and pallid. 
 
 Shedding ever drops of woe. 
 Like a fount from spring unfailing; 
 Like a torrent never pausing; 
 Like the restless surge of ocean 
 
 Seemed that bitter tide to flow. 
 
 YIII. 
 
 Mornings brightened — evenings faded — 
 Smiled fair Spring and laughed gay Summer — 
 Yet the changing charms of Nature 
 
 Changed not Sorrow's gloomy hue. 
 
236 T II E M T II E ir S DUE A M. 
 
 Still unheard were words of comfort ; 
 Still unheeded friends and household; 
 Daily duties all forgotten — 
 
 Nightly prayers forgotten too. 
 
 IX. 
 'Mid this deep and erring sorrow 
 Came, one eve in troubled slumber, 
 Dream or vision that beguiled her 
 
 From the spell of wild Despair. 
 She beheld the courts of heaven 
 Radiant with little children, 
 Happy, smiling, glorious beings — 
 
 All, like angels, purely fair. 
 
 X. 
 
 Each one bore a lamp, whose gleaming 
 Shed a flood of light celestial 
 On the flower-clad paths of Eden, 
 
 Trod by this seraphic throng. 
 Each soft eye was full of gladness ; 
 Each fair brow was crowned with glory ; 
 Each young lip gave voice to rapture 
 
 In a tide of thrilling song. 
 
 XI. 
 While the dreamer gazed upon them, 
 Watching for her own lost darling, 
 
THE MOTHERS D R E A M. 237 
 
 Changed at once the beauteous visiou ; 
 Rose at once a piteous cry. 
 To that cry her soul responded — 
 Looking thro' the gathering shadows 
 To a clouded sphere, and lonely, 
 
 There, her dear one met her eye. 
 
 XII. 
 
 Quick she cried, in wild amazement, 
 "Why — oh, why, my child, my blessed one, 
 Dost thou dwell in outer darkness. 
 
 Far from yon angelic band ?" 
 Then a voice, in mournful cadence. 
 Said, " Oh mother, thou dost keep me, 
 With thy ceaseless, ceaseless weeping. 
 
 From the joys of spirit land." 
 
 XIII. 
 " This pure lamp which is to guide me 
 From my prison, dark and lonely, 
 I have lighted and relighted, 
 
 But thy tears still quench its ray. 
 Never, to my home celestial 
 Can I go without this beacon — 
 Dearest mother, as you love me. 
 
 Weep no more, but trust and pray " 
 
2.3^ THE MOTHER'S D R E A M. 
 
 XTV. 
 
 Up, wiien Morn dispelled her slumber, 
 Rose that pale and awe-struck woman, 
 Oped her casement to the sunshine, — 
 
 Met its glance with answering eye 
 "Wondrous change ! and blessed as wondrous — 
 Never more the mourner murmured ; 
 Never more, on those pale features, 
 
 Mortal glance did tear-drop spy. 
 
 XV. 
 
 Now, the harmonies of Nature, 
 And the scenes of tranquil beauty 
 Lavished 'round that proud old mansion, 
 
 Tell deceitful tales no more. 
 Now, beneath those stately turrets 
 Dwells a meek and chastened spirit — 
 Hope and trusting faith in heaven 
 
 Cheer the home so dark before. 
 
ADDRESS TO TIME. 
 
 I. 
 
 On, Time ! to thee I sing ! 
 'Tis said that thou canst bring 
 Balm, on thy healing wing, 
 For every ill we know, — 
 For all the tears that flow 
 From founts of human woe. 
 
 II. 
 
 If so — then speed away I 
 Let the young Hours decay ; 
 Let Night give place to day ; 
 Let weeks and months go by; 
 Let years be born and die. 
 So that Grief too may fly ! 
 
 III. 
 I care not, envious wight, 
 If record of your flight 
 Upon my brow you write. — 
 Change these dark locks to snow : 
 Make these quick footsteps slow. 
 And bow this proud form low. 
 
2iO ADD RESS TO TIM E. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Take youth's most glorious dower — 
 The bloom, the grace, the power 
 That marked Life's morning hour. 
 Take all that's rich and fair, 
 But, with this precious share, 
 Take also dark Despair. 
 
 V. 
 
 Oh ! soothe this wild regret ! 
 Oh I dry the tears that yet 
 My sleepless pillow wet ! 
 Lift the iDruised heart that Fate 
 Bows to such lowly state ; 
 Take ofi" this weary weight. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Thou briugest to the flower 
 That's crushed by tempest's power, 
 Or chilled in wintry hour. 
 The sunshine and the dew 
 That will its bloom renew ; 
 Bring comfort to me too. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Away then. Time, away ! 
 That I may learn to say, 
 
ADDRESS TO TIM E. 241 
 
 In some fai' future day, 
 
 AVhen Griefs wild course is run, 
 
 And better daj's begun, 
 
 " Father— Thy will be done." 
 
'J^ II K M TJ 11 N E H. 
 
 [ 
 
 A WOMAN, young aud fair, tlio' pale with woe, 
 
 Looked forth, at sunset Lour, 
 
 From a proud mansion's tower : — 
 
 Bright was the scene that met her eye below, 
 
 For wood and vale aud stream 
 
 Were bathed in such a beam 
 
 As fairy landscapes wear, in some most happy dream. 
 
 II. 
 
 Yet ever, as she gazed, more sad and pale 
 
 The gentle watcher grew — 
 
 Her eyes of azure hue, 
 
 O'er-filled with Sorrow's dew, 
 
 Drooped like twin violets in a flooded vale; 
 
 And her low voice, sad as the wind-harp's wail, 
 
 Rose in melodious tone, 
 
 As sitting there, alone, 
 
 She breathed to the hushed air this soft and plaintive moaa 
 
 III. 
 ' Ye crystal waves, that leap in frolic play, 
 How tuneful is your flow ' 
 How merrily ye go, 
 
THE MOURNER. 243 
 
 Speeding along upon your flower-clad way ! 
 
 Oh, gladsome things, delay ! 
 
 One moment pause, or stay — 
 
 Perchance my soul may glide 
 
 Off, on your rapid tide. 
 
 To that unfading shore wliere endless joys abide. 
 
 lY. 
 " Ye soaring birds — embodied shapes of bliss ! 
 Lend me your tireless pinions, 
 That I, thro' Air's dominions. 
 May soar away to brighter realms than this. 
 Here, in this chilling clime. 
 Flowers perish ere their prime ; 
 Here countless tears are shed; 
 Here Hope's last smile hath fled; 
 And here, alas, Love's dream dies in the grave's dark bed. 
 
 Y. 
 
 " Ye floating clouds, that thro' you fields of space, 
 
 Sail onward, fast and free 
 
 As ships o'er wind-swept sea. 
 
 Can ye not list to me ? 
 
 Oh, airy shapes of grace ! 
 
 Winged voyagers of the air ! 
 
 Let me your wanderings share — 
 
 Let me be wafted, on your buoyant forms, 
 
244 THE MOURNER. 
 
 Far upward, o'er this region of wild storms; — 
 
 My pining soul would fain 
 
 Fly from this world of pain, 
 
 This battle-field of Life, where all Life's joys lie slain." 
 
 VI. 
 
 The mourner ceased her wail — while cloud, and wave, 
 
 And soaring bird swept by, 
 
 Unmindful of the cry 
 
 That sorrowing spirit gave. 
 
 But Nature, kindly mother, did not steel 
 
 Her ear against that passionate appeal; 
 
 Gently she took the grieved one to her breast. 
 
 Gently she hushed that suifering heart to rest; — 
 
 And, ere young smiling Day 
 
 Kissed Night's soft, tears away. 
 
 On rushing wave, or cloud, or song bird's strain 
 
 That unchained spirit floated off, to be 
 
 Forever glad and free. 
 
 Forever more untouched by earth's wild pain. 
 
TO LILLIE IN HEAVEN. 
 
 I. 
 
 LiLLiE, my lost delight! my angel child! 
 
 I know thou art forever far removed 
 
 From this, thine earthly home— and yet, beloved, 
 
 Ofttlmes amid my tears and murmurings wild, 
 
 I seem to feel thy gentle presence near, 
 
 And thy soft voice to hear. 
 
 11. 
 
 ^^l\ would this were no dream! for still I pine, 
 With a fond yearning that is one long prayer. 
 For the sweet eyes that even here did wear 
 A look of heaven— a loveliness divine. 
 Methinks, if I could see their light once more. 
 
 It would my peace restore. 
 
 III. 
 
 I sit alone, and muse, at eventide, 
 Upon each feature of thy fair young face. 
 Upon thy winning wiles, thy sportive grace ; 
 'Til Fancy whispers thou art at my side 
 Trembling, I turn a wistful gaze, but meet 
 
 Only thy vacant seat. 
 
24G TO LILLIE. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Alas ! and shall I never more behold 
 
 The innocent brow, the glad and sunny smile, 
 
 The soft blue eyes, whose glance could care beguile ? 
 
 Shall I no more thy bounding form enfold, 
 
 Nor feel the touch of thy caressing hands, 
 
 Riveting Love's sweet bands 
 
 V. 
 
 Oh, sainted Shade ! the tender links that bind 
 My spirit still to thine, what lip can count ? — 
 As well compute the whisperings of the wind, 
 Or number drops that swell the Sea's deep fount. 
 With all I think or feel, or see or hear, 
 
 Is woven thy memory dear. 
 
 VI. 
 And all things wake my tears — the budding flowers. 
 So like to thee — Morning and parting Day, 
 And low-voiced winds, that ,secm thy name to say; 
 Song birds, and children in their sportive hours, 
 And, most of all, the throbbing stars that shine 
 
 Up, near thy home divine. 
 
 vir. 
 
 Thou must be ftir from earth — far from its pain 
 And weariness and woe; — yet, darling child, 
 
TO L ILL IE 217 
 
 If so thou art, wliy comes so oft this' wild 
 Sweet thrill that speaks thee near again? 
 Ts it a whisper from thyself? — a token, 
 
 By thy clear spirit spoken, 
 
 viir. 
 
 To comfort and console ? Ah, if it be ! 
 \\"elcome, thou airy messenger of Love ; 
 Welcome, dear herald from the court above ; 
 Speak to me still — and if I may not see 
 The viewless shape, the angel form so dear. 
 
 Still let me feel it near. 
 
 IX. 
 
 I would not ask too much — this yearning heart, 
 Though by its deep, deep loss so j^ained and riven. 
 Seeks not to pluck its treasure back from heaven. — 
 No, dear one, no ! Secure and safe thou art, 
 Safe from all sorrow, iu that " better land," 
 
 Amid the angel baud. 
 
 X. 
 
 Yet, best beloved ! if thou canst leave awhile 
 The realms of bliss — oh, come, iu visions bright. 
 In dreams and airy fancies of the night, 
 Come, cheer my darkened spirit with thy smile ; 
 
218 TO LI LL IE. 
 
 Methinks all sin, all doubt, all woe would tiy 
 
 Whilst thou wert hovering uigb. 
 
 XI. 
 I was thy guide, thy teacher here, dear child ! 
 Now be thou mine — and, with thy seraph-eyes. 
 Keep watch o'er this sad heart — Oh, make it wise 
 And patient — hush its 'plainings wild ; 
 And, most of all, instruct it how to be 
 
 Worthy of heaven and thee 
 
WORDS OF CHEER. 
 
 'T WAS a fair morn in spring — The warm south wind 
 
 Breathed its caressing whispers low and sweet 
 
 As Love's first tremulous sighs. Tlie cloudless sun 
 
 Scattered a shower of golden favors down 
 
 On earthly homes, giving, alike to all. 
 
 Such liberal share, that Poverty's low shed, 
 
 Like Wealth's fair dome was mantled o'er with beauty, 
 
 Slowly, along the city's crowded ways, 
 
 I musing strayed, and marked the laborer pass 
 
 With cheerful footstep to his daily toil; 
 
 Saw the pale student issue from his home, 
 
 Languid and worn, yet winning as he went 
 
 New life and hope and joy; heard the soft tones 
 
 Of merry-hearted children, as they sang, 
 
 Like wakening birds, loud songs to greet the day. 
 
 How sweet, to one a- weary of sad thoughts, 
 
 Was the glad influence of that April morn ! 
 
 The viewless Spirit of Delight which floats 
 
 Upon the breath of Spring was busy then ; 
 
 Her gentle whisperings lured to pleasant scenes, 
 
 To far-ofi" glens, where, from the lowly soil. 
 
 Bright flowers, like hope and faith in darkened hearts, 
 
 Were springing to the light. — Methought the voice 
 
 Of that sweet Spirit shaped itself to words, 
 
250 W R D S OF CHEER. 
 
 And softly saiifz;, to every child of Grief, 
 Consoling words like these — 
 
 I. 
 
 Look up, oh, tear-dimmed eye! 
 Look up and weep no more ; 
 Ever 3'on sunlit sky 
 Bendeth this glad earth o'er : 
 Tho' storm-clouds intervene 
 And shadows darkly fall, 
 Beyond, still shines serene 
 The light that shines for all. 
 
 II. 
 
 Smile, sorrow-breathing lip ! 
 Smile off the frown of Care — 
 Come, sad one, forth, and sip 
 Heaven's joy-inspiring air : 
 Sweet as the breath of Love 
 It floats o'er hill and plain ; 
 Come, let its sweetness prove 
 A balm to soothe thy pain. 
 
 III. 
 
 Hope, oh, repining heart ! 
 Hope on, thro' good and ill — 
 Nature acts well her part, 
 And cheers her children still. 
 
W R D S F C II E E R. 2-51 
 
 Her bright and starry lore, 
 Writ iu yon page above, 
 Reveals an endless store 
 Of goodness and of love. 
 
 IV. 
 
 The frailest flower of earth 
 Is nursed by sun and shower , 
 The man of lowliest birth 
 Claims still a princely dower — 
 For him the star-beams shine; 
 For him the sweet dews fall — 
 Then, mourner, why repine, 
 Since Heaven is kind to all ? 
 
i 
 
THE FAIRY'S SEARCH. 
 
 I. 
 
 The fragrant shade of a rose-clad bower 
 
 Was a Fairy's chosen home; 
 There she gaily spent the summer hour 
 
 With never a wish to roam. 
 Her sweet employ was to watch with care 
 
 Each beautiful bud unfolding there, 
 And to guard, from every blighting spell. 
 
 The delicate blossoms loved so well. 
 Her gentle presence was a charm 
 
 That banished every power of harm ; 
 No wandering footstep dare intrude 
 
 To mar that pleasant solitude ; 
 No mortal hand might pluck a flower 
 Whose beauty graced that magic bower j 
 
 No evil influence could appear 
 
 While the fair guardian lingered near. 
 
 II. 
 
 It chanced, too soon, a merry baud 
 
 Of sister fairies, hand in hand, 
 
 Came dancing to that perfumed grove, 
 And lured its gentle queen to rove 
 
 Far off to the banks of a silvery stream, 
 
256 THE FAIRY'S SEARCH. 
 
 To revel and sport 'neath the moon's bright beam. 
 
 'T was such an eve as fairies love — 
 
 All cloudless smiled the heaven above; 
 And wooing zephyrs wandered by 
 With the witching tone of a lover's sigh, 
 Or paused awhile, in their wayward flight, 
 
 To kiss some rose of richest bloom, 
 Which received the caress in mute delijrht, 
 
 Tlien paid it back in a breath of perfume. 
 The minstrel night-bird's plaintive song 
 
 So sweetly stole o'er dewy plains. 
 That hidden Echo, listening long, 
 
 Learned to repeat the tender strains. 
 So calm the sleeping waters lay. 
 
 So true they mirrored back the glow 
 Of sky, and moon, and starry ray, 
 
 There seemed another heaven below, 
 As pure, as fair, as full of love 
 
 As the blue, boundless heaven above. 
 
 III. 
 
 'Mid scene thus bright, the sportive Fay 
 Forgot her treasures far away, 
 
 And lingered late, and listened long 
 
 To Pleasure's soft beguiling song; 
 Listened until its cadence stole 
 
THE FAIRY^S SEARCH. 257 
 
 Like witchery o'er the charmed soul, 
 And lulled, within her guileless breast. 
 Each care, each fear, to transient rest. 
 She woke as dreamers ofttimes wake 
 From some dear vision of delight. 
 When Morn's intrusive footsteps break 
 
 The airy structures reared at night. 
 With sad forebodings for her bower, 
 Deserted since the twilight hour, 
 She left the fairies' maffic rins;, 
 And, like a bird on rapid wing 
 Flew fast away. Yet, Morn's bright eye 
 [^'lashed glory o'er the eastern sk}-. 
 
 Ere she regained her home. Ah, then, 
 How sadly changed that well-loved scene ' 
 Et seemed all desolate and lone 
 
 As some deserted garden-bound, 
 Where autumn winds, in mournful tone, 
 W^ail over withered leaflets, strown 
 
 In darkest ruin i-ound. 
 Some daring hand had strippVl the bower. 
 And borne away each beauteous flower : — • 
 
 Far off", amid the busy crowd 
 Of a tlironged city, now they smiled ; 
 And lent new pleasure to the proud, 
 
 Or solaced Sorrow's child. 
 17 
 
258 THE FAIRY'S SEARCH. 
 
 IV. 
 
 As storm-clouds pass o'er summer skies, 
 Dimming their soft and lovely dyes, 
 So passed the gloomy shade of woe 
 Athwart the Fairy's radiant brow, 
 The while she gazed, in mute despair, 
 Around the dwelling, once so fair. 
 Brief time she mused, brief time she mourned 
 Upon the wreck and ruin near her, 
 
 For soon, like dawning light, returned 
 Hope's gentle smile to cheer her ; 
 And, lured by that beguiling ray. 
 Her fancy wandered far away. 
 To show her many a distant scene 
 Graced by the flowers that once had been 
 
 Her joy and pride. Could she not rove 
 To those far scenes, and there regain 
 
 The objects of her tender love? 
 Quick, with this thought, she plumed her wing. 
 
 And, like a rosy cloud of even 
 Floating upon the breath of Spring, 
 
 Lightly uprose to the bright heaven, 
 And soared away. Onward she flew. 
 O'er hill and vale and streamlet blue; 
 Nor paused until she spied afar. 
 Soft gleaming thro' the lucid air. 
 The city's towers and temples fair. 
 
THE FAIRY'S SEARCH. 259 
 
 Gladly she hailed the welcome sight, 
 Gladly she stayed her rapid flight, 
 And rested on the stately height 
 
 Of a proud dome, from whence her eye 
 Could new and wondrous scenes descry. 
 Within the narrow street below, 
 What crowds are hurrying to and fro ! 
 Ever a vast and restless throng, 
 Like surging torrent sweeps along. — 
 Old Age, with furrowed brow, and eye 
 Dim with the shadowy mist of Time; 
 Youth, radiant as the cloudless sky 
 
 Of summer in its prime ; 
 And Childhood, beautiful and gay 
 As blossoms in the morning ray, 
 All mingle in that rushing stream ; 
 All pass like shapes that haunt a dream. 
 
 And mark, where comes a happy band 
 Of youthful beings, hand in hand : 
 
 Their forms are robed in raiment bright ; 
 
 Their brows are radiant with delight ; 
 Their footsteps move to joyous measure ; 
 Their hearts leap up to notes of pleasure. 
 
2GU T II E F A I R Y ' S S E A R C II. 
 
 So gay their smiles, so pui'e tlieir mirth, 
 
 They seem not children of this earth, 
 But brighter, lovelier spirits, come 
 From some far-off, celestial home, 
 
 Some realm where R'lpture reigns supreme 
 
 And life is all one happy dream. 
 Ah ! Ever thus Youth's fairy land 
 
 Appears a pure and holy clime, 
 Secure from Care or Sorrow's hand, 
 
 Secure from all dark powers, save Time. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Beside a temple vast and high, 
 
 Whose spire points upward to the sky. 
 The gay ones pause. Each smiling brow 
 Grows grave with Thought's calm shadow now. 
 
 "With footsteps slow, with reverent air 
 
 They seek the shrine of praise and prayer. 
 Soon by the sacred altar stand 
 
 A happy youth and blushing maid, — 
 As eye meets eye, and hand clasps hand. 
 
 And Love's sweet radiance is portrayed 
 On either brow ; they seem, by heaven — 
 Whose smiles are to their future given — 
 
 Designed in storm or sunny weather, 
 
 To tread life's devious path together. 
 
THE FAIRY'S SEARCH. 261 
 
 VII. 
 Fair is the Lridc — Youth's holy charm 
 Leads all its witchery to her form ; 
 
 Aud Beauty's deepest spell is seen 
 
 lu downcast eye, and modest mien. 
 A graceful robe of stainless white 
 Falls round her, as the moon's soft light 
 Falls over earth in cloudless night; 
 
 A floating veil of silvery hue, 
 
 Whose folds her brow looks lovelier through, 
 Hangs, like the mist on mountain side, 
 And heightens charms 'twas meant to hide. 
 
 White roses gemmed with morning dew, 
 Bedeck her bosom's snowy vest, 
 
 And borrow loveliness anew 
 Fi-om their sweet place of rest. 
 
 YIII. 
 The vows are said — the twain are one — 
 
 The bridal band has turned away. 
 Like some bright dream, when sleep is gone, 
 
 Fades now the vision gay. 
 The Fairy, who with strange delight 
 Had viewed that solemn nuptial rite. 
 
 And marked, with azure e3'e suffused, 
 
 Iler well-knoAvn flowers, thus softly mused — 
 
263 THE FAIRY'S SEARCH. 
 
 " How lovingly they seemed to rest 
 " Upon that maiden's sinless breast ! 
 
 "What hand could take them thence? Ah, there, 
 
 " More bright than in my bower they wtre — 
 " IMethought they looked as born to gface 
 " That beauteous form and blooming face. 
 
 " 'T was, well to deck thee, gentle bride, 
 
 " "With my sweet roses — thus allied 
 " To youth, to innocence and worth, 
 " They seemed the holiest gifts of earth ; 
 
 " Offerings most pure and most divine, 
 
 " For Love to lay on Beauty's shrine." 
 IX. 
 These gentle thoughts, in gentlest strain 
 The fairy spake, then soared again ; 
 
 And flew o'er many a narrow street 
 Where Morning's smile so dimly fell. 
 
 Its cheering light could scarcely greet 
 The pallid beings doomed to dwell 
 
 In changeless darkness there. — Ah ! they 
 
 Who joyfully hail each new-born day 
 From some sweet home on hill or plain, 
 How can they know the weary pain. 
 
 The pining thoughts of those whose life 
 
 Is passed 'mid ceaseless care and strife ? 
 Who toil, perchance, from morn 'til night, 
 
lu cheerless yliops or gloomy lanes, 
 Scarce knowing whether summer light 
 
 Or winter darkness reigns. 
 They ne'er can feel the pulse and heart 
 To quick and healthful music start 
 
 In Nature's genial hour ; 
 They ne'er can feel Spring's balmy air 
 Float round them, with its perfume rare, 
 
 Waking new life and power : 
 To them the ever varying year, 
 
 Whose changeful beauties so beguile 
 More favored eyes, is still as drear 
 
 As human face without a smile. 
 
 In one of those o'crshadowed homes, 
 Where gleam of beauty rarely comes, 
 Behold a cluster, fresh and fair, 
 Of summer roses — Smiling there, 
 Within that melancholy room. 
 They seem its darkness to illume; 
 
 Tiieir beauty lends the cheerless place 
 A tender charm — a softening grace. 
 And One, with pale and thoughtful brow. 
 Is bending fondly o'er them now. 
 
 He drinks their sweetness, e'er he turns 
 
:64 
 
 THE FAIRY'S SEARCH. 
 
 To trace his thoughts upon the page — 
 
 His cheek is flushed, his deep eye burns 
 With a most pure and holy beam, 
 As if his heart hckl liappiest dream. 
 
 What radiant visions so engage 
 His musing spirit ? What fond spell 
 Lurks in the tales those blossoms tell ? 
 
 Ah ! flowers, to him, are like the chime 
 Of his own native melodies 
 
 To wanderer in a foreign clime ; 
 They image to his soul the light 
 
 Of lovely scenes afar, 
 Truly as waters calm and bright 
 
 Eeflect the twilight star. 
 
 Though voiceless, for his car they have 
 A language all their own ; 
 
 And as the shell from Ocean's cave, 
 Still murmurs in melodious tone 
 
 Of its far-distant home, 
 So, eloquently whisper they 
 Of their bright birth-place far away. 
 
 No marvel, then, the poet loves 
 These " children of the sun and shower;" 
 
 No marvel their sweet presence moves 
 His spirit with resistless power. 
 
 And who that marked the genial flame 
 
THE FAIRl'S SEARCH. -liLO 
 
 Thus kindled iu his eye, 
 
 Could mar his dream, or seek to claim 
 
 Those flowers from such proud destiny ? 
 
 XI. 
 
 "No I ever must my bower remain 
 
 " Without a rose to blossom near, 
 " Ere I can wreathe it o'er again 
 
 " With treasures gathered here. 
 " Let the young minstrel's loving gaze 
 
 " Rest on their beauties long ; 
 " Though lowly, tliey perchance, may raise 
 
 " High thoughts for tuneful song; 
 " And though so perishable, still 
 
 " They may inspire a lay, 
 " Whose melody the world shall thrill 
 
 " In a far future day. 
 " Ay ! let the priest of Nature keep 
 " Her offspring fair — for it is meet 
 
 " Their incense-breath should round him float, 
 " And mingle with the anthems sweet 
 
 " Which from his souFs pure altar rise, 
 
 " Like grateful offerings to the skies." 
 
 XII. 
 ]\[urmuring these words, the wanderer flew 
 From the Bard's dwelling, to renew 
 
2G6 
 
 THE F A I R Y S S E A R C II 
 
 Her loving search. — IIow grandly fair ! 
 
 How radiant, with treasures rare, 
 Was the proud home that next she sought. 
 It seemed that Wealth and Taste had brought 
 
 Their choicest offerings to that shrine ; 
 
 And Art had lent its aid divine, 
 
 To bid the scene with beauty shine. 
 It seemed that Rapture's thrilling song 
 
 Might echo round those pictured walls; 
 And hope and joy and peace belong 
 
 To all who trod those stately halls. 
 But, ah ! v.'hat mortal home is free 
 
 From Care's intrusive form ? 
 What heart that loves, can ever be 
 
 Shielded from Sorrow's storm ? 
 Within that home is anguish wild — 
 A mother there bewails her child. 
 Her only child, whose beauteous clay 
 
 Enshrined when yestermorn had birth, 
 A gem of pure, unsullied ray, 
 
 A pearl of priceless worth. 
 A Mighty Power has claimed that gem, 
 
 With purpose good and wise. 
 And set it in a diadem 
 
 Whose light illumes the skies. 
 The mother kn )ws her treasure shines 
 
T II lu F A I II Y S S E A R C U 267 
 
 In its celestial home, 
 Yet still her yearning heart repines ; 
 
 Still fund regrets will come. 
 The rifled casket jet is deai', 
 
 Although its light has fled, 
 And mourning Love must droj) a tear 
 Above the early dead. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 With eyes that stream like summer showers, 
 
 With trembling hand, and pallid face. 
 The mourner twines a wreath of flowers 
 
 To deck her child's last dwelling place. 
 Ah, see how fair his marble brow 
 Looks, in that rosy garland now ! 
 
 And mark, what life-like hue is cauo-ht 
 By voiceless lip and moveless cheek, 
 
 As if again the spirit wrought 
 In its fah" temple, and would speak 
 Some sweet and cheerful thought. 
 What magic tints of life and light. 
 
 And beauty, those fresh flowerets give ! 
 They make those clay-cold features blight, 
 
 And whisper that the lost doth live. 
 So fair tlie dear deception grows, 
 That the pale mother's bosom glows 
 
:g6 
 
 THE FATIIY'S SEARCH. 
 
 With a faiut, shadowy touch of joy, 
 
 While gaziug ou her lovely boy. 
 More hopeful now her watch she keeps, 
 
 More calmly views his lingering siuile, 
 Vriiich seems to say he only sleeps, 
 
 Sleeps calm, and dreams of heaven the while. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 " Ay ! twine them round the silent head, 
 
 " And strew them o'er that quiet breast ; 
 " Meet emblems of the early dead, 
 
 " And fit, on such pure shrine to I'cst. 
 
 " Let none remove those fragrant things — 
 
 " Affection's votive ofterings — 
 
 " From the pale clay ; — there let them fade 
 " And when in darksome tomb they're laid, 
 
 " Memory shall oft the lost restore, 
 
 " And paint him as he looked before, 
 " With a sweet garland round his brow, 
 " And his lip wreathed in smiles. 
 
 " Thus shall the mourning mother borrow 
 
 *' A pleasant thought to soothe her sorrow 
 " And deem her child was fitly dressed 
 " To enter mansions of the blest, 
 
 " And join the angel band." 
 
THE FAIRY'S SEARCH. 269 
 
 XV. 
 
 The pitying Fay, 
 Thus gently musing, turned away ; 
 
 And next, beneath a church-yard's shade, 
 
 Her airy pilgrimage was stayed. 
 Ah, me ! it is a solemn sight, 
 A burial place in scene so bright! 
 
 \Yhcre footsteps glad and voices gay 
 
 Echo along the crowded way. 
 Where Silence reigns not, night or day. 
 
 Methinks the quiet dead should rest 
 Far from the busy haunts of life ; 
 
 Far from all care and toil, unblest, 
 Far from all noise and strife. 
 
 In some lone spot, where Nature sheds 
 A smile serenely fair. 
 
 We e'er should make the slumberers' beds, 
 And lay thom softly there. 
 
 Pale star-beams, or the pensive moon, 
 Or sun-set rays should light the shrine ; 
 While murmuring waves, with lulling tune, 
 
 Or birds, with minstrelsy divine. 
 Should lend soft music-tones, to play 
 
 Around the solemn scene, alway. 
 And there light winds, thro' leafy bowers, 
 Should whispei- low to answering flowers. 
 
THE FAIRY'S SEARCH. 
 
 And wakeu dirges wildly sweet 
 O'er dwellers ia that hushed retreat. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 As sadly gazed the Fairy 'round 
 
 On marble tomb and mossy mound, 
 She sighed to think of all the woe 
 That living, loving hearts must know 
 For those who slept so calm below. 
 
 But Peace sj)ake softly to her heart. 
 
 When she beheld a grave apart, 
 So hallowed by Afiection's light, 
 'T was cheerful to the gazer's sight. 
 
 The lowly bed was planted o'er 
 With shrubs and flowers, 
 
 So chosen that their own sweet lore, 
 
 Their "mystic language," might disclose 
 A touching tale. The pale white rose 
 
 Was there of sadness deep to tell ; 
 
 And Hyacinth, whose purple bell 
 Is eloquent of sorrow ; 
 
 And violets of the azure hue. 
 
 Which change not with the changing skies, 
 
 And therefore are the emblems, true. 
 Of faithful love. Its fra<rrant sighs 
 
 Sweet Rosemary breathed around, 
 
THE FAIRY'S SEARCH. 271 
 
 And, with its leaves of fadeless green, 
 Spake of remeinbrauce. Tlieve was fouud 
 Tiie graceful locust too, wliicli gave 
 
 A cheerful aspect to the scene, 
 And told of love beyond the grave. 
 These tokea-flowers revealed that he 
 
 Who slept below was unforgot ; 
 That fond and faithful memory 
 
 Would linger long around the spot, 
 The sacred shrine that Love had sou<rht 
 For the dear idol of its thouo-ht. 
 
 o 
 
 XVII. 
 
 Now, lowly kneeling on that bed. 
 
 That flower-strown grave — the brightest there- 
 Is One whose cheek's young bloom is fled, 
 Whose brow is dark with, grief and care. 
 Behold, how eloquent of tears 
 Is her dim eye ! — Its shadowy light 
 Tells that a cold, untimely blight 
 
 Hatli fallen on life's summer years. 
 But, look ! she weaves a wreath of bloom, — 
 
 A garland of t!ie Fairy's roses. 
 To grace and hallow the dark tomb 
 
 Where her beloved reposes. 
 Mark, how the tide of woe is stayed. 
 
272 
 
 THE FAIllY'S SEARCH. 
 
 How Sorrow's murky .shadows fade 
 
 From her pale hrow and mournful eyes, 
 The while that loving task she plies. 
 
 The tear drops pause upon her cheek 
 And linger there, and gleam awhile, 
 
 As Night's soft dews, on mountain steep. 
 Gleam in the Dawn's glad smile. 
 
 While bending o'er those hright-hued flowers, 
 And drinking in their soft perfume. 
 
 There comes a dream of happier hours 
 To cheer this night of gloom. 
 The vanished scenes of other days 
 Ptise brightly to her spirit-gaze ; 
 
 Her sobs are hushed, her tears are dried. 
 
 Her heart hath cast its weight aside. 
 And ceased, awhile, its plaint of woe 
 For loss of him who sleeps below. 
 
 XVIII. 
 " Dream on, dream on, poor widowed heart ! 
 " Such dreams may transient peace impart — 
 
 " The purest pleasures left for thee, 
 " Fond wife, are those of memory; 
 '' And they, in very truth are thine, 
 " Whilst votive garlands thou dost twine 
 " Around Love's sweet, tho' darkened shrine. 
 
"Ob, let my cherished favorites be 
 " Companions of thy grief and thee — 
 " They'll soothe, perchance, tlie wild regret 
 " That rankles in thy bosom yet. 
 
 " Emblems of faithful love, they'll give 
 " A breath of fragrance while they live ; 
 " And e'en when withered, dark and dead, 
 " Some lingering sweetness still tliey'll shed, 
 " Poor moui'ner, round thy lost one's bed." 
 
 XIX. 
 
 Thus — ere she plumed her wing again 
 
 The wanderer spake, in pitying strain ; 
 Then onward flew in doubt and fear 
 To a dark prison, towering near. 
 
 Her heart too truly told her, there 
 
 Dwelt many a victim of Despair. 
 
 Shut out from Peace and Hope's sweet ray, 
 Shut out from Honor's flowery way. 
 
 Shut out from every gladsome sight 
 
 And sound that wakes such pure delight 
 In the FREE heart — ^from the blue sky, 
 
 The balmy air and sunny beams, 
 
 Tlie breathing flowers and bounding streams, 
 And all thy blessings. Liberty ! 
 
 Oil, Crime, thou art a fearful thing ! 
 
 IS 
 
274 THE FAIRY'vS SEAllOII. 
 
 Thou brood'st o'er earth with darkest wing- 
 Aud blighted ho^jes, and ruined name, 
 Unchanging woe, unfailing shame, 
 
 With Man's contempt and Heaven's wrath 
 
 Must light on all who tread thy path ! 
 Too late do wayward mortals learn 
 The fatal power of Sin to spurn. 
 
 In every record of the past 
 
 They read this bitter truth at last, — 
 " The culprit meets a culprit's doom." 
 
 The good and pure alone can know 
 
 The joys which in life's pathway bloom ; 
 
 The heaven, that even here below 
 
 Can fill the heart, and waken there 
 All its diviner powers. 
 
 To such Creation.'s face is fair, 
 To such, its fields and flowern 
 
 Are still all robed in hues of light, 
 
 The magic hues, serenely bright. 
 That shone on Eden's bowers. 
 And such, however low their lot. 
 However circumscribed the spot 
 
 They call their home, may tread this earth, 
 
 Proud in the consciousness of worth, 
 And freely claim a kindred tie 
 With the angelic host on high. 
 
THE FAIRY'S SEARCH. 275 
 
 XX. 
 
 Mark, what a sad and cheerless sight 
 
 Xow greets the Fairy's gaze ! 
 It seemeth as if sudden night 
 
 Had veiled the noontide's blaze ; 
 It seemeth as some evil spell 
 Had conjured up that gloomy cell. 
 Narrow and low and dark the walls — 
 From whence a noisome moisture falls ; 
 Upon the unswept floor is spread 
 A heap of straw — the captive's bed ; 
 \ tattered garment wraps him round ; 
 His shrunken limbs, in fetters bound, 
 Make, as they move, most dismal sound. 
 But, mark I e'en in this hapless state, 
 He holds a link that now unites 
 His spirit to a better fate. 
 
 Crouched on the floor, just where a ray 
 Of sickly sunshine makes its way 
 Thro' grating small, behold him clasp, 
 "With energy's convulsive grasp, 
 
 A few frail flowers ! — How they had found 
 Their way within that prison's bound, 
 'T were vain to tell. With kind intent. 
 Perchance some friend of other days 
 Had these sweet missionaries sent, 
 Repentance for the past to raise. 
 
27G THE FAIRY'S SKAJICII. 
 
 PcTcluince that Love, (it oft hath given 
 
 Such token of its hallowed powers,) 
 Had, with a pity born of heaven, 
 
 Thus sought to soothe the weary hours 
 Of that lone man. Needless to know 
 
 How those fresh, fragrant flowers he gained,* 
 Be mine the grateful task to show 
 
 With, what beguiling power they reigned 
 O'er the sad 'heritor of shame. 
 
 Long had he paced the prison floor, 
 
 And eyed its narrow boundary o'er 
 With glance like lightning's flame; 
 While thoughts of evil, dark and dire, 
 Awoke his soul to vengeful ire. 
 
 And curses, deep and dreadful, fell 
 
 Like muttering thunder round his cell, 
 LTntil it seemed the gloomy lair 
 Of some dark demon of Despair. 
 
 But now, a sudden change is wrought 
 
 In the fierce current of his thought — - 
 Those flowers have touched the only chord 
 Yet tuneful in that rugged breast, 
 
 And Feeling's fount is strangely stirred, 
 Like waters in the storm's unrest. 
 
 The one pure spark that never dies 
 Even in coldest, hardest hearts. 
 
 That trlcams, like stars in clouded skies. 
 
THE FAIllY'S SEARCH. 277 
 
 Thro' all the blackness Siu imparts, 
 
 Now wakes and brightens to a ray 
 
 That drives less hallowed thoughts away. 
 The memokv: of a mother's love — 
 How, like a voice from worlds above. 
 
 It thrills the soul ! How long it dwells, 
 
 Shrined in the heart's most secret cells, 
 A sacred thing ! If darkening powers 
 Have quenched the light of early hours 
 
 And bade all sweet emotions fly. 
 
 All pure and holy feelings die, 
 Save this — Yet this will bloom 
 Like a lone flower o'er some dark tomb : 
 
 And tho' it may be buried deep 
 Beneath a load of sin and shame ; 
 
 Though, for loiig seasons it may keep 
 
 Hidden from all its gentle flame. 
 Yet it WILL wake, in some lone hour. 
 And rule the soul with mightiest power. 
 
 XXT. 
 
 Thus with the captive — thick and fast 
 As stars steal out when day is past. 
 
 Now soft and gentle memories steal 
 
 Into his spirit — they reveal 
 Glimpses of better things. How bright appears 
 
278 THE FAIRY'S SEARCH. 
 
 The vision of his sinless years ! 
 
 How pui'cly, to his dreaming gaze, 
 Comes up the dear, the' faded form 
 Of her "who watched with love most warm 
 
 His Childhood's wayward days ! 
 Each token of her care for him, 
 
 Her only son, her hope and pride ; 
 Her -watchings 'til the stars grew dim, 
 
 In nightly vigils by his side 
 When jjain oppressed. Her tireless care 
 
 To teach him lessons good and pure : 
 Her oft repeated wish and prayer 
 
 That he might Learning's wealth secure , 
 
 Her counsel sage, so sweetly given. 
 
 It well might lure to hopes of heaven : — 
 All these fond memories cluster now 
 
 Around the captive's heart — their power 
 Is like the sun's reviving glow 
 
 In Spring's enchanted hour. 
 " Oh, God ! and can it really be 
 " A wretch so vile, so lost as me, 
 
 " Could e'er have been so rich, so bless'd ? 
 " Did such a love, with purest ray, 
 " In truth illume my Childhood's day ? 
 
 "Ah, would to heaven that Death's cold hand 
 " Had laid me in an early grave, 
 
"i Jl J: V A I R Y ' S S E A R C 11. 279 
 
 " Ere I forgot one soft command 
 " My sainted mother gave ! " 
 
 XXII. 
 These earnest words the captive said, 
 Then bent his form, and bowed his head. 
 
 And wejDt — Ay, wept ! — that man of crime, 
 
 Freely, as in life's holier time. 
 Thus he, whose spirit woe and pain. 
 And gloomy cell and galling chain 
 
 Had failed to soften or subdue, 
 Now melted to remorseful tears, 
 
 To penitence sincere and true 
 Before those fairy flowers. And she 
 
 Who came to bear them to her bower, 
 Wept too, with wondering joy, to see 
 
 This last proud token of their power. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 " Ah, never more my heart shall dream 
 " Of winning back its treasures fair, 
 
 "So dear to mortal homes they seem, 
 
 " 'Tis meet they spend their sweet lives there. 
 
 Dear unto all — the young and gay, 
 
 " The aged, in their wintry day, 
 
 " The happy, in their blissful mood, 
 
 " The sorrowing, when their griefs intrude. 
 
280 THE r A i 11 Y ' S S E A R C II. 
 
 " Oh ! let these beauteous products, tlien, 
 
 '• Bloom ever near the haunts of men ; 
 '' Let lowly cot and lordly hall, 
 " And wide domaiu and gai'dou small 
 
 " Receive the gentle guests. And they, 
 '' Henceforth shall rule with loftier sway; 
 
 " For I am homeless now — my bower 
 " Is desolate, and I must dwell 
 
 " Awhile with every varied flower 
 " That buds and blooms, A mystic spell, 
 
 " A high and holy charm shall be 
 " Their recompense, who shelter me; 
 
 " 'Round each and all this gift shall live, 
 
 "E'en after they have ceased to give 
 
 " The wandering Fay a home. 
 " But ever, in fond memory 
 
 " Of my own chosen flower, 
 " Roses, of every hue shall own 
 
 " A spell of deepest power : 
 " The charm I lend to them, shall cast 
 
 " Its witchery over every heart, 
 '• And hold sweet influence there, and last 
 
 " ' Til life itself depart. 
 " Angelic spirits, when tliey grieve 
 
 " O'er those who stray from Virtue's track, 
 " Shall bless the spells that roses weave, 
 
THE FAUIY'S SEARCH 2S1 
 
 " Aud choose them as fond messengers 
 " To call the wanderers back. 
 
 XXIY. 
 
 No more the Fah-y spake — No more 
 
 She mourned her lost. Her search was o'er, 
 
 But not her wanderings — oft she strayed 
 
 Where varied flow'rets bloomed, and made 
 Her home awhile with each. And still 
 She roams earth's garden-bowers at will, 
 
 And nestles in Spring's earliest rose, 
 Or flutters round the tulip's bell. 
 
 Or creeps, at evening's dewy close. 
 Within the lily's fragrant cell, 
 
 To slumber there, and dream away 
 
 The summer night, in visions gay ; 
 And when the Mornino; smiles a<i;ain, 
 
 Leaving the bright-hued garden flowers, 
 She hies to far hill-side or plain, 
 
 To spend a few delicious hours 
 Where wilding honey-suckles fling 
 Their balmy sweets on zephyr's wing. 
 
 Whene'er a storm-cloud veils the sk}', 
 
 Or threatening winds sweep rudely by, 
 
 She hastens to a safe retreat, 
 The violet's sheltered home, — and there 
 
2e'i THE FxilRY'S SEARCH. 
 
 Eeceives a welcome sweet, 
 
 And rests 'til heaven again is fair. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 Oh ! je who nurture flowers, and feel 
 Their perfumed breathings softly steal. 
 
 Like witchery to your heart, be sure 
 The wandering Fay hath sojourned there, 
 Amid 3'our cherished treasures, where 
 
 Her charm doth yet endure. 
 And ye who roam o'er daisied gi-ound, 
 When Spring or Summer smiles around, 
 
 And taste a bliss words may not tell, 
 
 Know that the gentle Fairy's spell — 
 Most potent in such place and time — 
 Awakes that sense of joy sublime. 
 
 And now my pleasant task were done, 
 Save that there comes a thought of one 
 Who truly said — " They write in vain 
 Who Aveave no moral with their strain. "- 
 And mine wei'e little worth, indeed, 
 If wanting this. To those who read 
 This simple tale, I humbly say 
 
THE FAIRY'S SEARCH. 283 
 
 Cherish and love the lowly thiii£:s 
 
 Which form the burthen of my lay ; 
 
 For their sweet lives, tho' brief as bright, 
 
 Are guarded by that Power Divine 
 
 Which bids each glorious world of light 
 In its appointed orbit shine. 
 
 And not more wondrous to the soul, 
 
 Those radiant orbs which o'er us roll. 
 
 Unchanged by Time— than the frail flower 
 AVhose Jife is compassed by an hour. 
 
 Each speaks the same high language ! Each, 
 
 In thrilling eloquence, doth teach 
 Our hearts in reverent love to bend 
 To the Pure Source, from whence descend 
 Blessings and beauties without end. 
 
THE POET'S APPEAL. 
 
 Lexd me your voice, ye winds, wlio wake a straiu so high! 
 Lend me your voice to sing a song that shall not die : 
 
 On pinions fast and free 
 And chainlcss as your own. 
 
 My thoughts, o'er land and sea, 
 Sweep on from zone to zone. 
 Their flight is proud as yours — no laws of Time control, 
 No earthly limits bound these heralds of the soul ; 
 Far up, thro' realms of space, up to the source of day. 
 Like ye, great minstrel-bands, they take their lofty way ; 
 And could they too, like ye, oh! airy bards, go forth, 
 Sino-ino- in cadence errand of their immortal birth, 
 How might they chain and charm the listening sons of earth > 
 
 II. 
 
 Lend i"fte your hues, ye flowers ! lend me your rainbow dyes, 
 To paint the gorgeous dreams that in my soul arise : 
 The forms of beauty there, 
 
 The visioned shapes of grace. 
 Are all as pure and fair 
 As ye, oh, gentle race ! 
 These beings of the mind, like ye sweet flowers, decay, 
 The chilling breath of Care steals their soft bloom awnv; 
 
THE POET'S APPEAL. 285 
 
 Yet over when the storms of Carq and Grief are o'er, 
 They rise, like ye in spring, more lovely than before. 
 Then, children of the sun, lend me 3'our hues of light, 
 That I may learn to paint my spirit-dreams aright, 
 And thus entrance the world with pictures truly bright. 
 
 III. 
 Lend me your beams, ye stars ! ye pilgrims of the sky, 
 Wandering forever there, so pure, so calm, so high; 
 Lend me your light serene, 
 
 To guide my footsteps here ; 
 Then shall earth's mazy scene 
 To me be plain and clear. 
 My hopes are like yourselves, holy, and high and pure : 
 Amid life's clouds and storms, like ye, they smile secure; 
 But ah, like ye they shine far off, beyond my reach, — 
 How best to win them here, your fadeless beams may teach 
 Then shed upon my path, oh, beae(«i-flames sublime ! 
 The light by which my soul may learn the way to climb 
 To those far heights which tower beyond the waves of Time 
 
THE AMERICAN INDIANS. 
 
 TiiEY are exiled, ])y Destiny's changeless decree, 
 
 From heritage, birth-place and home ; 
 They are doomed, like the winds that sweep over the sea, 
 
 Forever unresting to roam. 
 They are driven afar from their dear natal clime ; 
 
 They are hastening on to decay — 
 A few more dark waves from the ocean of Time 
 
 Will sweep their last remnant away. 
 
 II. 
 
 E"cu now, from each wild forest scene of the "West, 
 
 From valley and hill-side and stream, 
 From the lake's sunny border, the prairie's broad breast 
 
 Their memories fade like a dream. 
 When a few more brief years shall have roll'd o'er this land. 
 
 And cities embellish each plain, 
 On our far western hills will the traveller stand 
 
 And ask for the Red men in vain. 
 
 III. 
 
 In vain will he ask for the wild sports they loved 
 In their happy and prosperous hour, 
 
THE AMERICAN INDIANS. 2S7 
 
 For the homes where they dwelt,and the haunts where they roved 
 
 In the days of their freedom and power. 
 No elofjueut record shall tell of the race ; 
 
 No epitaph point to its tomb ; — 
 The surges of Time will have swallowed each trace 
 
 Of the Red Man's renown, and his doom. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Where graceful canoes once were gliding about, 
 
 Proud Steamers will hurry along; 
 Where Echo once woke to the warrior's shout, 
 
 She will answer the husbandman's song. 
 Where green forests waved, or fair hunting grounds spread : 
 
 Where roamed the wild bison or deer, 
 Glad children shall sport, and gay multitudes tread, 
 And beautiful cities appear. 
 
 V. 
 The flock of the herdsman will feed o'er the grave 
 
 Where the form of a chieftain was laid ; 
 The rich golden harvest of Autumn will wave 
 
 Where the tomb of a nation was made. 
 The liloughman will pause in the midst of his toil, 
 
 To ask, with a wondering gaze, 
 As he bends over relics he turns with the soil, 
 
 "■ Who dwelt here in earlier days ?" 
 
28S 
 
 THE A 1^1 E R I C A N INDIANS. 
 
 YI. 
 
 No voice from the Past can ari.se to reveal 
 The secret he questions to know ; 
 
 For Poesy's song will not wake to the theme, 
 Nor History an answer bestow. 
 
 Only Echo's low voice will reply to the sound- 
 By hilkside and valley and plain, 
 
 Her mystical melody, lingering around. 
 Will repeat the sad question again. 
 
 vir. 
 
 Ah, well may we mourn the poor Indian's doom ! 
 
 When his last earthly wanderings are o'er, 
 He must sink to a dark and unchronicled tomb. 
 
 To be named or remembered, no more. 
 Let us hope, in the far spirit-land he may find 
 
 Those " Hunting grounds," blissful and bright, 
 "Whose glimpses of happiness here filled his mind 
 
 With undisturbed dreams of delight. 
 
THE HAPPY BAND. 
 
 I. 
 
 Ix life's sweet morn we wei-e a band 
 
 Of cliildren glad and gay, 
 Who sported ever, band in hand, 
 
 The rosy hours away. 
 Like social birds that roam in flocks 
 
 To seek their summer bowers, 
 We wandered closely side by side, 
 
 Hunting the early flowers. 
 
 11. 
 We numbered eight — eight loving hearts 
 
 So fondly knit together. 
 That sunny peace and kindness made 
 
 Unchanging summer weather. 
 No clouds arose — no coldness came — 
 
 No stormy words or tears ; 
 But each to each remained the same 
 
 Thro' childhood's wayward 3'ears. 
 
 III. 
 
 Youth came — The music of our lives 
 
 Still kept its joyous tone, 
 
 For each harmonious note was breathed 
 19 
 
2\)0 
 
 THE HAPPY BAND. 
 
 By hearts that beat as one. 
 And changes came — yet still the love 
 
 That brightened childhood's day, 
 Shone like a star upon our souls. 
 
 And cheered our onward way. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Years passed — and mingled light and shade 
 
 Played o'er Life's changeful sky, 
 Yet still we were a happy band 
 
 Linked by a holy tie. 
 If e'er we parted, 'twas to meet 
 
 In deeper bliss again, 
 For time and absence only seemed 
 
 To strengthen Love's fond chain. 
 
 But ah, a mightier power than Time 
 
 Brought saddest change at last, 
 And o'er the brightness of our lives 
 
 A mournful shadow cast. 
 One precious link of Love's sweet chain 
 
 Was severed ! — Never more 
 Can wish or hope, or prayer or tear, 
 
 That parted link restore. 
 
 J 
 
THE HAPPY BAND. 291 
 
 VI. 
 
 The dearest member of our baud 
 
 Comes not to join us now — 
 The cold earth lies upon his breast, 
 
 The green sod veils his brow. 
 Sweet Spring, who wakens sleeping flowers, 
 
 And bids them freshly bloom, 
 Has no life-giving ray to call 
 
 Oar sluniberer from the tomb. 
 
 VII. 
 
 "We meet, but 'tis in silent grief, 
 
 For thoughtfully we stand, 
 Each reading on the other's brow 
 
 " We are a broken band." 
 Our household group is like a harp 
 
 AVhose sweetest string is gone, — 
 
 Xo longer can its music make 
 A full and perfect tone. 
 
 viir. 
 
 We breatlie no fretful, murmuring words, 
 
 We shed no bitter tears ; 
 But we feel that life hath lost the charm 
 
 Of its departed years. 
 
292 
 
 THE HAPPY BAND. 
 
 Youth's confidence in earthly bliss, 
 Its faith in Love's high powers, 
 
 Its fearless trust in future good 
 Can never more be ours. 
 
 IX. 
 
 One solemn lesson now hath taught 
 
 Our souls this truth severe, 
 Love has no bond or lease to hold 
 
 Its precious treasures here. 
 Since Death has stolen one away, 
 
 We hojie and trust no more ; 
 But ever fear, as misers do 
 
 Who dread to lose their store. 
 
 X. 
 
 Tet we repine not — for there comes 
 
 A memory pure and bright. 
 That, like the rainbow after storms, 
 
 We welcome with delight. 
 Our sainted brother, ere his soul 
 
 Passed to the better land. 
 Bade us all hope that there, once more, 
 
 We'd form a " happy band." 
 
'HER EYE IS UNDIMM'D." 
 
 I. 
 
 Her eye is undimm'cl aud her brow still unclouded ; 
 
 You would tliiuk that Joy's sunbeams yet brighten'd her soul, 
 But alas ! every hope in a dark veil is shrouded, 
 
 And the waves of Despair o'er wrecked Happiness roll. 
 The dream she most cherished, most rudely is broken; 
 
 The heart she most trusted has deeply deceived; 
 And the shrine where she lavished each love-breathing token 
 
 Has proved all unworthy the gifts it received. 
 
 II. 
 
 Yet she wears the same look that she wore in the season 
 
 When all her glad steps pressed the flowers of delight, 
 And tlionghtless observers believe they have reason 
 
 To envy tliat maiden her destiny bright. 
 She breathes not a word of the woes that oppress her ; 
 
 She asks not, she hopes not, for cure or relief; 
 And the lovers who flatter, the friends who caress her 
 
 Dream not that their idol is dying of grief. 
 
 III. 
 
 Ah I thus have I seen some proud fane, famed in story, 
 Tho' dim with the mouldering touch of decay. 
 
 Still wearing to outn'ard appearance the glory 
 It wore in its better and earlier day ; 
 
294 "II E R EYE IS U N D 1 M M ' L> . 
 
 And while the soft sunlight danced cheerily o'er it, 
 And clustering vines veiled each blemish with flowers, 
 
 No pilgrim who passed in mute reverence before it, 
 Could dream of the ruin that lurked 'neath its towers. 
 
THE BEACON. 
 
 "The island of Rona is a small and very rocky spot of land lying 
 between the isle of Skye and the mainland of Applecross, and is -well 
 known to mariners for the rugged and dangerous nature of the coast. 
 At the extremity of this dreary solitude is the residence of a poor 
 widow, whose lonely cottage is called " the light-house," from the 
 fact that she uniformly keeps a lamp burning in her window at night. 
 During the silent and solitary watches of the night she may be seen 
 trimming her little lamp, being fearful that some misguided and frail 
 bark may perish through her neglect ; and for this she receives no 
 manner of remuneration — it is pure, unmingled philanthropy." 
 
 '• So shines a good deed in a naughty world." 
 
 I. 
 There's a lonely isle, on whose rocky shore 
 The wild surge dashes, ever more, 
 With a sullen sound like thunder's roar. 
 
 II. 
 There stormy winds strange revels keep — 
 Wailing and wandering o'er the deej), 
 Like troubled souls that cannot sleep. 
 
 III. 
 With watchful care, by night or day, 
 In winter stern or summer gay, 
 The mariner shuns that coast alway. 
 
296 THE BEACON. 
 
 IV. 
 
 "What tho' tlie skies arc bright and fair? 
 Tho' calm and safety smile elsewhere ? 
 Yet danger ever lurketh there. 
 
 V. 
 On t!ie wildest jDart of that wild spot, 
 Where other human home is not, 
 Dwells a woman lone, in an humble cot. 
 
 VI. 
 
 She hath no friend or neighbor near; 
 No pleasant sight or sound to cheer — 
 Why lingers she in home so drear '? 
 
 VII. 
 As twilight shadows deepen round, 
 More dismal grows the night-wind's sound ; 
 More fierce the wild wave beats the ground. 
 
 vni. 
 
 Yet that lone dweller by the sea 
 Beholds, with heart from terror free, 
 The night approach so gloomily. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Her spirit, blameless, good and pure. 
 
 In its own holy light secure, 
 
 May well that outward gloom endure. 
 
THE BEACON. 297 
 
 X. 
 
 Look ! from her casement streams a ray 
 That cheers aud guides till dawn of day. 
 The wanderer on his trackless way. 
 
 XI. 
 Thro' the lou^ watches of the nin-ht, 
 Like vestal guarding sacred light, 
 She trims and keeps that beacon bright. 
 
 xir. 
 
 Oft, when the storm-winds wildly rave, 
 She prays her signal-flame may save 
 Some voyager from untimely grave. 
 
 XIII. 
 The Mighty Watcher hears her praA'er ! 
 And many a storm-toss'd bark doth spare, 
 To recompense her pious care. 
 
 XIV. 
 And thus, the varying seasons through — 
 Patient and tireless, firm and true. 
 This noble task doth she pursue, 
 
 XV. 
 
 Ah ! warriors, in their country's need. 
 May boldly fight and bravely bleed, 
 But Glory's laurels are their meed. 
 
298 THE BEACON. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 And Statesmen, when they toil by day, 
 Or wear in thought the night away, 
 Win fame or fortune for their pay. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 All who enact the martyr's j^art. 
 Hide ever, in their secret heart, 
 Some hope that well may strength impart. 
 
 XVIII. 
 But here a nobler one we sec ! 
 One, whose lone life proclaims that she 
 From every selfish aim is free, — 
 
 XIX, 
 
 Enacting part so truly great. 
 That angels, from their high estate. 
 Might bend, as we the tale relate. 
 
 XX. 
 
 Oh, may a deed so like divine, 
 
 Bright in the world's best annals shine, 
 
 And live, while rolling years decline ! 
 
SUNLIGHT AND SHADOW. 
 
 I. 
 
 I STOOD beside a rippling stream, 
 
 One changeful April day, 
 And watched the sun's capricious beam 
 
 Upon the waters play ; 
 Like some pure spirit of delight 
 
 It sported here and there, 
 Making each tiny wavelet bright 
 
 As gems that monarchs wear. 
 
 II. 
 Yet never long that glittering guest 
 
 Might dancing waves illume; 
 Cloud-shadows oft would o'er them cast 
 
 A veil of sudden gloom; 
 One moment Summer's placid smile 
 
 Played on the streamlet's face, 
 The next, cold Winter's angry frown 
 
 Seemed lowering in its place. 
 
 III. 
 Yet, whether darkened o'er by clouds 
 
 Or brightened by a ray, 
 Those never-resting waters still 
 
 Went gliding on their way. 
 
300 SUNLIGHT AND SHADOW. 
 
 They liugered not when .sunshine came; 
 
 They hurried not in shade; 
 But, with the same unvarying j)ace 
 
 Their onward journey made. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Mcthouglit, whilst gazing on those waves, 
 
 That in them I could see 
 A solemn type of human life — 
 
 Their voices unto me 
 Seemed whispering of that mightier stream, 
 
 The rushing wave of Time, 
 Which bears us still, in light or gloom, 
 
 On toward the S2)irit-clime. 
 
 Y. 
 
 Sunlight and shadow mark the course 
 
 Of Life's departing day — 
 Our sorrows are the frowning cloud, 
 
 Our joys the laughing ray. 
 Sunlight and shadow in our home ; 
 
 The same within our heart ; 
 Sunlight and shadow o'er the world 
 
 Their changeful hues impart. 
 
SUNLIGHT AND S II A D W. 301 
 
 VI. 
 
 Alike upon the lowly cot 
 
 And on the mansion fixir, 
 The sunlight and the shadows foil 
 
 With just and equal share : 
 The poorest toiler need not fear 
 
 To live in shade alway ; 
 The proudest Monarch may not hope 
 
 To bid the sunshine stay. 
 
 YII. 
 
 For every wave of life will have 
 
 Its portion of the light ; 
 And that which glides in gloom to day 
 
 To-morrow will be bright : 
 And whether, like the river's wave, 
 
 In sun or shade they roll, 
 They still, with never resting pace, 
 
 Flow onward to their goal, 
 
THE LOST SPIRIT OF YOUTH. 
 
 T. 
 I WEAR uo sables on iny form, no C3'pres3 on my brow, 
 And yet the mourner's gloomy garb would well befit me now ; 
 For darkly o'er my musing heart, the pall of grief is spread 
 And like a weeper at a tomb I mourn a spirit fled. 
 
 II. 
 
 A spirit of delight, that east its own glad radiance round, 
 And made all thought one dream of bliss, all earth enchanted 
 
 ground. 
 Oh, glorious spirit of my youth ! Is thy sweet mission o'er? 
 And canst thou come, with witching spells to bless rae, 
 
 never more? 
 
 III. 
 
 I do not ask the eye's lost light, the cheek's once roseate hue ; 
 I would but keep the heart's sweet flowers from changing, 
 
 fading too. 
 What tho' this temple of the soul be worn by grief or care. 
 If still the holy light within might shine undimned and fair ? 
 
 IV. 
 But, woe is me ! Life's many storms have touched the 
 
 "spark divine," 
 A.nd now 'tis like a dying lamp within a ruined shrine — 
 
THE LOST SPIRIT OF YOUTH. 30; 
 
 Its fitful radiance yet reveals some relics pure and bright, 
 But more It shows the saddening power of Time's unfailing 
 blight. 
 
 V. 
 
 Ah, joyous spirit of my youth! thou didst too quickly flee — 
 "Without thy aid I can no more Earth's varied beauty see ; 
 I miss the glorious smile of morn, the magic charms of eve ; 
 Glad nature thrills my heart no more — how can I choose 
 but grieve ? 
 
 VI. 
 
 Yet even now, while o'er the tomb of buried Youth I bend, 
 Beguiling tones of melody with Sorrow's murmurs blend; 
 I seem to hear an angel-voice, telling of climes more fair. 
 And whispering low these welcome words, "Youth is eternal 
 there." 
 
LINES FOR AN ALBUM. 
 
 Could yvc chain the sweet airs that float round us in spring, 
 Could we prison the music the wild robins sing ; 
 Could we stay the bright rose, in its opening hour, 
 And keep it thus glowing, half bud and half flower, 
 Could we catch the rich hues of that arch in the sky 
 Which smiles o'er the clouds, when the storm has gone by, 
 Oh ! then might we hope — ^by some magical chain — 
 The beautiful spirit of youth to detain ! 
 
 II- 
 
 But alas ! never mortal might boast this liigh power : 
 Life's march we may stay not — e'en one happy hour — 
 Ah! 'tis well then to learn ere our pleasures decay. 
 How to strengthen the soul for a stormier day. 
 If our homes are enriched with Affection's bright store, 
 And our minds are the garners of Wisdom's pure lore ; 
 If we list to the counsel that Virtue imparts, 
 And shrine the fair jewel of truth in our hearts; 
 Then we'll miss not the glories of Youth's sunny morn. 
 Nor sigia for the good that can never return ; 
 But, relinquishing calmly the blossoms of Spring, 
 We'll welcome the fruits that calm Autunm will brinfj. 
 
O E N I U S. 
 
 I. 
 
 There is a fragile, fair and fragrant flower 
 
 That blooms on rocks, or Alpine summits high , 
 
 It never feels the summer sun or shower ; 
 It never sees a smiling summer sky. 
 
 II. 
 The icy breath of winter round it blows, 
 
 And frowning tempests gather o'er its head ; 
 Yet still as bright and beautiful it grows 
 
 As cultured tenant of a garden-bed. 
 
 III. 
 Like that lone blossom, oft is Genius found 
 
 In some rude scene, where all is bleak and drear ; 
 Where no soft, genial influence smiles around, 
 
 And no warm ray of hope is lent to cheer. 
 
 
 IV^ 
 
 
 
 Where 
 
 the keen breath of Slander sheds a blight ; 
 
 Wh 
 
 ere stern Misfortune's bitter 
 
 tempa 
 
 sts come ; 
 
 Where 
 
 Envy, Pain and Penury unite 
 
 
 To crush the bud — there Genius 
 
 finds a home. 
 
 
 20 
 
 
 
V. 
 
 And tliere it lives — despite the many storms 
 That, gathering round it, threaten to destroy ; 
 
 There too it blooms more bright than favored plants 
 Reared on the sunny plains of peace and joy. 
 
THE BUR XING BOAT. 
 
 I. 
 O'er the dark wintry waters low night winds were sighing ; 
 
 The young moon's pale smile faintly gleamed in the west 
 As a boat o'er the foam-crested billow was flying, 
 
 Like a sea-bird at eve to her far-away nest. 
 
 II. 
 
 iMany warm, loving hearts in that ocean-home beating, 
 Had just said " farewell," with a sigh and a tear; 
 
 While others were thrilled with the fond hope of meeting 
 The loved ones, whose smiles made existence so dear. 
 
 III. 
 Yes, many were hastening to Home's peaceful pleasures, 
 
 After wandering long on the perilous main — 
 How bright were their dreams, as life's holiest treasures 
 
 Drew near, and in fancy they clasped them again ! 
 
 lY. 
 
 No gale in her pathway — no storm cloud above her ; 
 
 No fierce, angry tempest proclaiming its power — 
 Ah, why should the spirit of dark ruin hover 
 
 Above that lone boat, at the calm evening hour ? 
 
308 THE BURNING BOAT. 
 
 y. 
 
 Like the miduight assassiu, a dread foe comes stealing 
 To do its foul work, amid silence and gloom — 
 
 Too soon the sad truth, all its terrors revealinjr, 
 Will thrill every heart with the fiat of doom. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Lo ! the boat is in flames ! Hark ! afer o'er the oceaii, 
 Kings the loud cry of fear, and the shriek of dismay — 
 
 In that dreadful moment of direst commotion, 
 How wildly, how vainly the pale tremblers pray } 
 
 vir. 
 
 The red flames are bursting in fury around them — 
 No path of retreat ; and no angel to save — 
 
 The wide waste of dark wintry waters around tliem — 
 No hope, and no choice, save the fire or the wave ! 
 
 VIII. 
 One thought to their loved ones — one prayer to heaven — 
 
 One shuddering glance on their merciless foe — 
 A shriek, a wild plunge, and the victims have given 
 
 Themselves to the grave that yawns darkly below. 
 
 IX. 
 
 More hurriedly now the wild flames are careering; 
 
 More faint grow the cries, and more solemn the scene ; 
 
THE BURNING BOAT. 309 
 
 Beneath the cokl wave they are fast disappearing — 
 Ah ! Death and Destruction triumphant have been I 
 
 X. 
 
 'Tis morn — and the sun o'er the bright wave is beaming- 
 No traces of shipwreck or suffering remain, 
 
 But many bereaved ones in anguish are dreaming 
 That night's mournful tragedy over again. 
 
THE SPIRIT OF SPRING. 
 
 I. 
 
 There is a joyous spirit in the air — 
 
 Her presence thrills us like a magic spell; 
 
 Her breath is pure as blossoms fresh and fair ; 
 Her accents sweet as Music's gentlest swell. 
 
 ir. 
 
 High power o'er Nature hath this viewless sprite — 
 Freely she floats o'er mount, o'er vale and stream, 
 
 Painting them each in hues most soft and briglit, 
 And bidding Earth in primal beauty beam. 
 
 III. 
 Like a victorious chieftain, marching on, 
 
 'Mid songs and plaudits of his soldier-band, 
 "Winning the meed of praise from every tongue, 
 
 So moves fair Spring, triumphant, thro the land. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Her followers are a multitude of flowers. 
 
 That wake to life where'er her footsteps fall ; 
 
 Her minstrels are the birds from southern bowers, 
 Who tune their notes obedient to her call. 
 
THE SPIRIT OF SPRING. 311 
 
 V. 
 
 Her plumes are graceful boughs of waving trees, 
 That nod and sport, with every zephyr's sigh ; 
 
 Her banner is the sunlight, streaming free. 
 Her tented home tlie blue, far-reaching sky. 
 
 VI. 
 Where'er she moves a wonderons change is seen — 
 
 Dark clouds and mists hide from her smiling eyes, 
 While barren hills put on their robes of green. 
 
 And wreath their brows with flowers of rainbow dyes 
 
 VIT. 
 And not o'er Nature's works alone, fair Spring 
 
 Breathes the soft might of her reviving power — 
 To Nature's cliildren she doth ever bring 
 
 A balm that soothes the saddest, weariest hour. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Man feels this gentle magic, and his heart 
 Leaps to the rapid measure of delight ; 
 
 Each languid pulse to "healthful music" starts; 
 Each somber thoujrht gives place to visions brigl't, 
 
 IX. 
 
 The youth leads forth the maiden of his choice — 
 Together 'neath a smiling heaven they rove, 
 
312 THE SriRIT OF SPRING. 
 
 While all their fond emotions find a voice 
 
 To praise the Power that woke their souls to love. 
 
 X. 
 
 And frolic Childhood, with a shout of glee 
 
 Hailing the joyous Spirit of the air, 
 Bounds o'er the hills, with footsteps light and free, 
 
 To hunt the birds, or gather violets fair. 
 
 XI. 
 
 E'en the poor outcast, who is lured to crime, 
 Whose erring steps have wandered long astray, 
 
 Won by the softening influence of the time, 
 Breathes a low prayer to turn to Virtue's way. 
 
 XII. 
 As genial sunbeams pierce Earth's frozen breast 
 
 To warm the seed and wake it into flower 
 So doth the glance of Sjiring, on mission blest, 
 
 Steal to the heart of Man with holiest power. 
 
r' 
 
 THE S T II :\r Y PETREL. 
 
 " Flocks of these birds aro seen at almost all seasons of tlie year, 
 roaming fearless and tireless over the wide waste of the Atlantic 
 Ocean. Many mariners believe them to be the heralds of an ap- 
 proaching storm, (hence their name,) and the more superstitious 
 class ot seamen deem them spirits of the departed, undergoing a 
 sort of penance for their sins." 
 
 I. 
 
 WuEXCE come ye, mystic pilgrims of tlie deep ? 
 
 What are ye seeking on the restless wave? 
 "Why do ye thus such weary wanderings keep ? 
 
 Why do ye ever these wild perils brave ? 
 
 11. 
 
 Are there not waving trees, and sheltering bowers, 
 And jileasant valleys on the f;\r-off shore ? 
 
 There might ye nestle 'mid soft-breathing flowers, 
 And rest, untroubled by the billow's roar. 
 
 III. 
 
 The countless warblers of tlie lowly vale, 
 
 The wild-winged songsters of the mountain rock 
 
 Fly to their homes when warring winds assail, 
 Nor seek to brave the tempest's fearful shock. 
 
3U 'IIIE STORMY PETREL. 
 
 IV. 
 
 But ye ! lone dwellers by the sounding sea, 
 
 Heed not dark clouds, nor fly the whirlwind's might ; 
 
 Ye shim the deep as fearless and as free 
 
 When the storm howls, as when all heaven is bright. 
 
 V. 
 
 "Why do ye tlius ? Conjecture roams abroad 
 To Ifarn the secret of your mystic way; 
 
 Pale "Wonder whispers of your strange abode, 
 And busy Fancy asks why thus ye stray. 
 
 YI. 
 
 Are ye, in truth, mute heralds of the gale. 
 
 In mercy sent to hover o'er our deck, 
 And warn the mariner to furl his sail. 
 
 And timel}' guard his goodly ship from wreck? 
 
 vir. 
 
 Or are ye troubled souls of erring men 
 
 Wliose lives on earth were marked by sin and crime. 
 Doomed, in sad penance, onward still to roam. 
 
 With flight unresting as the march of time? 
 
 viir. 
 
 W'hate'er 3'c are, wild Avanderers of the deep, 
 
 There is a lesson in your bold career, 
 That bids the soul its changeless progress keep 
 
 'Mid all the storms that darken round it here. 
 
THE PET RABBITS. 
 
 I. 
 
 The breaking dawn is lovelier than day, 
 
 And opening buds more beautiful than flowers ; 
 
 Thus Life, when gilded by its morning ray. 
 Is brighter, purer than in after hours. 
 
 II. 
 
 A happy child, whose joy-illumined face 
 Borrows the sunlight of a sinless heart, 
 
 Is a far fairer vision than we trace 
 
 In 2:)oet's dream, or painter's work of art. 
 
 in. 
 
 One such I knew — a loving little girl, 
 
 ^Yith pure, pale brow, and cheek of roseate hue ; 
 
 With golden locks that waved in many a curl, 
 And eyes, like angel eyes, serene and blue. 
 
 IV. 
 
 She used to sit within the garden bound, 
 
 'Mid blooming flowers, " herself the ftiircst there," 
 
 And call her troop of timid pets around, 
 
 To feed them each with tender love and care. 
 
316 THE TET RABBITS. 
 
 They had no fear of her — tho' wild and shy, 
 And shrinking ever from another hand ; 
 
 They read the loving language of her e3-e, 
 And hastened gladly at the soft command. 
 
 TI. 
 
 Oft have I watched those pretty followers press, 
 Like reasoning creatures, round the darling's seat 
 
 And each in turn await her fond caress, 
 Her tender glances, and her accents sweet. 
 
 Yir. 
 
 From this fair scene the musino; heart mio-ht jrain 
 A lesson pure — a lesson sweet to know ; 
 
 Thus KINDNESS ever, in this world of pain. 
 Can still the heavenly seeds of gladness sow. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 No living thing so low or little worth, 
 But feels the magic of that gentle spell 
 
 Which moves all hearts, and makes this home of earth 
 Fair as the mansions where the blessed dwell. 
 
AUTUMN MUSINGS. 
 
 T. 
 
 How summer lingers round this cottage-liome I 
 How slowly, here, the autumnal changes come ! 
 I watch the radiant flow'retsday by day, 
 And fear to see their beauty fade away ; 
 Yet every morn they gaily greet my eye, 
 Dressed in their summer robes of brilliant dye. 
 
 II. 
 
 Out on the hills the forest trees stand bare — 
 Their unclothed branches shivering to the air ; 
 While even those within the sheltered vale 
 Give out their leaves to every passing gale. 
 On mount and jjlain the grass lies black and sere 
 And Earth wears mourning for the dying year. 
 
 III. 
 Yet though I mark, by many a solemn sign, 
 Nature fast sinking- to her sad decline ; 
 Though every eve I list the solemn sigh 
 Of wailing winds, proclaiming Winter nigh, 
 Yet still that dark despoiler doth not come 
 To steal the treasures round this cottage-home. 
 
318 
 
 AUTUMN MUSINGS. 
 
 IV. 
 
 The purple Pansies plan ted near my door, 
 
 Smile there in modest beauty, as before ; 
 
 The scarlet blossoms of tlie clustering vine 
 
 That wreathes the columned porch, still gaily shine ; 
 
 Whilst leaf and flower coquetting M'ith the ray 
 
 Of the warna sun, make summer there all day. 
 
 V. 
 
 A.nd when I tread the garden's peaceful walks, 
 
 Familiar friends nod from their graceful stalks ; 
 
 There golden Coreopsis, with her smile 
 
 Of cheerful welcome, bids me pause awhile ; 
 
 And modest Heliotrope sends up a sigh 
 
 Of fragrant greeting, as I wander by. 
 
 YI. 
 
 From her low bed, sweet Mignonette doth fling 
 A balm, inspiring as the breath of Spring ; — 
 Gay China Pinks and Asters, here and there, 
 Like queens in costly robes, stand proudly fair; 
 While radiant Marygolds, like suns illume 
 The lowly spheres where they so brightly bloom. 
 
 YII. 
 
 These smiling favorites, lingering round me still, 
 Attune my thoughts to Joy's harmonious thrill : 
 
AUTUMN MUSINGS. 319 
 
 The pensive beauty of these Autumn days 
 Passes into my spirit, wakening praise, 
 And fervent thanks, and purest worship there, 
 For the Great Power that made this world so fair. 
 
 VITI. 
 
 And when I turn within, it is to pray 
 That thus my own Life's summer may decay ; 
 Thus slowly change — thus leave around the heart 
 Some precious flowers that shall not soon depart. 
 Let me not pine, if wintry changes come 
 Slowly to me as to my cottage home. 
 
CECELIA. 
 
 I SAW her for her bridal morn arrayed — 
 A wreath of purest flowers was on her brow ; 
 And her white veil fell softly round a form 
 Whose delicate proportions well might vie 
 With the bright shapes that haunt a poet's dream. 
 Her face was wondrous fair — It wore a calm 
 And spiritual loveliness, whose hidden fount 
 Was the pure mind within. No need of words 
 To tell the passing thoughts — The delicate hue 
 Upon her varying cheek ; the gentle eye, 
 Now soft and tearful, now illum'd with joy, 
 And the sweet, flexile, love-inspiring lips 
 Were eacli so eloquent, they truly spake 
 The spirit's deep emotions. 
 
 Now she mused 
 Upon that thrilling moment, drawing near. 
 When she, before the sacred shrine would stand. 
 And speak the vows full fraught with bliss or woe. 
 She was not one to pass with thoughtless step 
 Into a new and untried path of life. 
 The while she mused, a tide of solemn thouglit 
 Swept darkly o'er her face — thus have I seen 
 The shadow of a passing cloud o'ersweep 
 
CECELIA. ' 32] 
 
 A flowery field, aud for a moment, dim 
 Its radiant beauty. Soon the shadow fled — 
 She had but paused to ask her heart, ouce more, 
 If it coukl well fulfillthe sacred dues 
 Of wedded life ; and, by the tender light 
 That stole into her downcast, modest eye, 
 I knew that Love and Hope had made reply 
 Such as her soul approved. 
 
 Thou art no cold 
 And vain Ideal, beautiful Cecelia ! 
 I've seen the home where thou dost live and love , 
 I know the hearts made happy by thy smile ; 
 And if my spirit's earnest wish or prayer 
 Could shape thy coming fate, that fate would be 
 Cloudless and lovely as a summer day 
 That dawns and dies in beauty. — But, alas ! 
 What loving heart can shield, by wish or prayer, 
 Its dear one from the inevitable ills 
 That wait on human life ? Ah me ! this thought 
 "Were bitter to me now, did there not come 
 The sweet belief that virtuous souls, like thine, 
 Have in themselves an Eden-world, whose bloom 
 No power of Time can blight. Then, go thy way ; 
 And let not doubt disturb the blissful dream 
 That Love hath whispered to thy gentle heart : 
 
322 CECELIA. 
 
 Tho' care and grief may ^ cloud thy future lot, 
 They cannot dim the sweet and holy faith 
 That in thy spirit lives ; and this shall be 
 A star to guide thee safe thro' every storm. 
 
BOOKS. 
 
 TiiEY arc the heritage that glorious iniuds 
 
 Bequeath unto tlie world ! — a golden store 
 
 Of wealtli, more precious far, than that he finds, 
 
 Who searches miser's hidden treasures o'er. 
 
 They are the light, the guiding star of Youth ; 
 
 They lead his spirit to the realms of Thought, 
 
 And point the "way to virtue, knowledge, truth. 
 
 Their lessons, oft with purest pearls inwrought, 
 
 Wrap shining drapery round our earliest dreams, 
 
 And brighten the dark woof of daily life. 
 
 They lead the soul afar to fairy scenes. 
 
 Where enter not the forms of care and strife — 
 
 They are immortal ! — ages pass away. 
 
 Yet still they speak, instruct, inspire, amidst decay. 
 
A PORTRAIT. 
 
 I. 
 Her brow was fair — its stainless hue 
 
 Was like tlie moon's white glow; 
 While here and there blue veins peeped through, 
 
 Like violets from the snow. 
 Now o'er that brow would gladness stray, 
 
 And now a shadow rise, 
 As sun and cloud alternate play 
 
 In changeful April skies, 
 
 II. 
 
 Her eyes were dream-like, soft, yet bright, 
 
 Their color none might tell. 
 For now they danced in Rapture's light 
 
 And now, 'ncath Sorrow's spell 
 They drooped — But whether mirth 
 
 Or sadness slumbered tliere. 
 No other eyes in tlie wide earth 
 
 Could match that matchless pair 
 
 III. 
 
 Her voice, like a melodious lute 
 
 Woke Echo's sweetest sigh; 
 Her lightest accents seemed to leave 
 
 Soft music lingering nigh. 
 
A PORTRAIT. 325 
 
 That tuneful voice ! its soncj of srlee 
 
 Entranced the listener's will ; 
 But when it thrilled to Grrief's low key 
 
 'Twas dearer, sweeter still. 
 
 IV. 
 Her smile ! How shall I seek to paint 
 
 A thing so wondrous bright ? 
 As well might artist's hand attempt 
 
 To sketch the rainbow's light. 
 'Twas sudden splendor, like the rays 
 
 From Morn's uprising sun, — 
 A flood of glor}', whose rich blaze 
 
 Dazzled the while it shone. 
 
 Y. 
 
 But that bright smile would pass away 
 
 As quickly as it came, 
 For tears in embryo ever lay 
 
 To dim the eye's sweet flame. 
 As lightest clouds veil heaven's pure beam, 
 
 So would a trivial thing, 
 A word, a look, a thought, a dream. 
 
 The sudden shadow bring. 
 
 VI. 
 She ne'er could see the face of woe 
 Or list the voice of pain, 
 
326 A PORTRAIT. 
 
 But sympathetic tears would flow, 
 
 Free as the summer rain. 
 And careless words from Yiiis beloved, 
 
 Or frowns on foreheads dear 
 Would move her soul, as seas are moved 
 
 By tlie wild wind's career. 
 
 VII. 
 
 And thus her heart was like her face — 
 
 As changeful and as fair ; 
 Now Pleasure's sunny dwelling place ; 
 
 Now the dark haunt of Care. 
 But ever good, and pure, and true 
 
 She was, in storm and shine, 
 'Til of her wayward moods, we knew 
 
 Not which was most divine. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 For still, in each, her soul was like 
 
 A pure and silvery stream, 
 That mirrors, in its fiiithful breast. 
 
 Alike the cloud and beam. 
 It might be sunlight, i-milinf fair. 
 
 Or storm shades o'er it driven, 
 Yet every hue reflected there 
 
 Was stlU^ hue from heaven. 
 
AMEKICAN LIBERTY. 
 
 I. 
 
 Born in a night of danger — when the cloud 
 Of dark Opiiression gathered o'er the Land; 
 
 When War's fierce thunders echoed far and loud, 
 And Death's red fires leaped forth on every hand 
 
 II. 
 Cradled in wild alarm — when Freedom's foe 
 
 Still sought to cast his tetters o'er the brave ; 
 When glorious deeds but gained the meed of woe, 
 
 And Valor's self seemed powerless to save. 
 
 III. 
 
 Nurtured in sorrow — when the bitter tear 
 
 Of wrong and suffering dimm'd the Nation's eye ; 
 
 When still the woes of warfare lingered near, 
 And still men struggled on to " do or die." 
 
 But reared in hope, in happiness and light, 
 
 And cherished by fond hearts, with loving care, 
 
 The precious germ, no adverse storm could blight, 
 Now towers, a stately tree, surpassing fair. 
 
 V. 
 
 Far o'er tlie land its sheltering branches spread, 
 Offerino- to all earth's weary pilgrims rest : 
 
828 
 
 AMERICAN LIBERTY. 
 
 Peace smiles serenely on its sun-lit head ; 
 And 'neath its shadow man is truly blest. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Millions revere the hour that saw its birth ; 
 
 The world's applauding smiles are freely given : 
 Fame's voice proclaims it "ornament of Earth," 
 
 And Wisdom names it "favorite child of Heaven." 
 
"THE LILY OF A DAY." 
 
 I. 
 Beautiful blossom — gift divine 
 From heaven to earth, what a mission is thine I 
 Tarrying here only one brief day, 
 Yet doing so much ere thou passest away ! 
 Gladdening our eyes with such delicate bloom ; 
 Blessing our homes with such wealth of perfume ; 
 Filling our hearts with emotions so pure ; 
 Teaching us meekly the storms to endure ; 
 Smiling so sweet, as the death-hour draws nigh, 
 And showing how calmly the sinless can die. 
 
 n. 
 
 Beautiful blossom — the baptismal dew 
 
 Morn showers, with light fingers of roseate hue, 
 
 Scarce dries on thy forehead, ere evening's soft tear 
 
 Falls silently, tenderly, over thy bier : 
 
 And thy birth-song of welcome, that festival strain 
 
 Which birds sent so gayly at dawn o'er the plain, 
 
 Scarce faints into silence, ere night-winds arise 
 
 To breathe out thy dirge in melodious sighs. 
 
 Oh ! brief as the hopes and the joys we hold dear, 
 
 Is thy sojourn, thou radiant mystery, here 1 
 
530 "THE LILY OF A DAY." 
 
 III. 
 Beautiful blossom ! so pure and so fair 
 That seraplis might weave thee in garlands to wear, 
 Let me gaze on thee still with a tear-moistened eye — 
 Let me blend with thy breathings grief's tenderest sigh, 
 For thou art, to me, like a symbol or sign 
 Of one whose young life was as lovely as thine ; 
 Of one whose light form had thy own airy grace ; 
 And who wore Heaven's smile, mirrored thus, in her face ; 
 Whose heart was as stainless, whose spirit as free 
 From all earthly blemish, sweet blossom, as thee. 
 Her name — her dear name — ah ! we breathe it uo more — 
 Its echo has floated to Eden's bright shoi'e, 
 
 IV. 
 Beautiful blossom ! we dare not repine 
 That the life of our Lily was fleeting as thine ; 
 For like thee she fulfilled, in her short sojourn here, 
 The mission angelic to bless and to cheer — 
 We are better and wiser for dwelling awhile 
 In the breath of her sweetness, the glow of her smile ; 
 And 'tis joy to reflect that she drank every ray 
 Of the warm sun of Love, thro' her brief summer day ; 
 That she faded, like thee, darling daughter of Light, 
 Ere the chill dew of eve or the dark frown of Night 
 Had saddened her spirit, or clouded her brow, 
 Or made her less fair than to memory now. 
 
SPRIN-G-TIME. 
 
 " The Spring is here— the dclicatc-fuoted May, 
 With her slight fingers full of leaves and Uowers." 
 
 Yes, all her fairy labors are begun ! 
 
 Out on the hills where merry sunshine laughs, 
 
 In moist, cool grottos, where sly shadows liide, 
 
 And even here, around our city homes, ' ■ 
 
 The beautiful and wondrous work goes on ! 
 
 We watch its silent progress, day by day, 
 
 "With pleased surprise — with ever-new delight, 
 
 As if the lovely miracle had ne'er 
 
 Gladdened our eyes before. The brightening skies. 
 
 The warm, light showers, and balm-distilling air, 
 
 The tender grass piercing the heavy mould, 
 
 The delicate unfolding of the flowers, 
 
 The fairy mechanism of the buds 
 
 "Weaving, in cells minute, a magic web 
 
 That soon will clothe the landscape far and wide 
 
 In wealth of waving drapery — all this 
 
 Is a sweet mystery still, and charms the sense 
 
 Like the bright changes of a pleasant dream. 
 
332 S r II I N G - T I M E . 
 
 This spirit of the Spring that yearly comes 
 
 To weave, with her " slight fingers," such a rich 
 
 And radiant garment for the gladsome earth, 
 
 How ceaseless is her toil ! She doth not pause 
 
 Either at noon-tide, or at silent eve, 
 
 Or through the long, still watches of the night ; 
 
 But ever, like a brave and resolute soul 
 
 Devoted to some purpose grand and good, 
 
 With calm, untiring energy toils on. 
 
 And mark how gradual all her gentle steps I 
 
 How noiseless every movement^ — how serene 
 
 The onward progress of her mighty task ! 
 
 Oh ! zealot-men, who seek in vain to be 
 
 Reformers of the vrorld, will ye not take 
 
 A lesson from this " delicate-footed May," 
 
 This gentle missionary, who performs 
 
 Her work of good so meekly ? She but breathes 
 
 The warm and vivifying breath of love 
 
 Over the world, and all its living things 
 
 Become her willing votaries. Birds and bees, 
 
 And tiny insects, with their tender strains, 
 
 And bands of winds, with their majestic notes, 
 
 And waters, with their flowing cadences. 
 
 And Man, with all the pomp and power of word?.,, 
 
 Unite in mingled harmony, to sing 
 
 Glad hymns of worship to her. She but smiles, 
 
 And lo I the earth, from out its secret cells, 
 
S P E I X Ct - T I M E . 333 
 
 Gives forth its fairest treasures. Not a glen 
 So deep, or dim, or liiddeu from tlie liglit, 
 But giveth sometliing from its silent heart — 
 Some tender plant, some rare and delicate flower, 
 Which, lifting up its meek and lovely face, 
 And breathing out its brief and fragrant life, 
 Thus pays its modest tribute to the Spring, 
 And dies unseen by any eye save Heaven's. 
 Oh ! sacred are the teachings of the Spring 1 
 AVhen she unfetters, by her soft light touch, 
 The ice-bound lakes and streams, and, with a smile, 
 Pierces the frozen bosom of the earth, 
 "We read a lesson of the magic might 
 Of gentle word or deed — and when we see 
 The buried flowers rise up, to bloom again 
 In their angelic robes of loveliness. 
 We feel our immortality, and know 
 That thus, when death's long wintry sleep is o'er, 
 A heavenly Spring shall smile upon our tombs, 
 And waken us, as May awakes the flowers. 
 
THE RIGHTFUL KIXGS 
 
 1. , 
 
 Oh ! Avlio are the crowned monarclis that sway 
 
 Their subjects by laws sublime ? 
 The rightful rulers whom all obey — 
 The men whose words move the world to-day, 
 
 And will, till the twi-light of time ? 
 
 n. 
 
 They do not dwell in palaces proud, 
 
 Nor sit on a gilded throne ; 
 They do not dazzle the wondering crowd, 
 Nor move amid plaudits long and loud : — 
 
 These splendors are all unknown. 
 
 III. 
 But oft their palace is some old tower, 
 
 Their throne a mouldering chair ; 
 And the sceptre they wield with resistless power. 
 Is light as the stem of a fragile flower 
 
 That bends to the summer air. 
 
THE RIGHTFUL KINGS. 335 
 
 IV, 
 Yet, oh ! this sceptre, if wielded aright, 
 
 Is more than a magic waud ! 
 It conjures up visions of purest dehght ; 
 It paiuts us pictures celestially bright — 
 
 Sweet pictures of fairy-land. 
 
 V. 
 It nioveth awhile — and our souls, straightway, 
 
 'Neath floods of sorrow are bowed ; 
 It moveth again — and lo ! we are gay — 
 The bright thought chasiug the sad away, 
 
 As the sunbeam chaseth a cloud. 
 
 VI. 
 
 These monarchs of mind ! amid want and pain 
 
 And weariness, oft they dwell ; 
 Yet they fashion a rare and a delicate chain, 
 Who^e precious links are wrought in the brain, 
 
 Or forged in the heart's deep cell. 
 
 VII. 
 
 This wonderful chain, so cunningly wrought. 
 
 It stretches from clime to clime ; 
 Tlie world's large heart in its clasp is caught, 
 And Humanity blesses the magic of Thought 
 For weaviim* a bond so sublime. 
 
336 THE EIGHTFUL KINGS. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 All ! yes the child, in its imiocent play, 
 
 The laborer sturdy and strong, 
 The wise, the unlearned, the grave and the gay, 
 Alike bow down to the pleasing sway 
 
 Of the poet's melodious song, 
 
 IX. 
 
 Long life to the poet ! the only king 
 
 "Who rules by a " right divine" — 
 Who can ever a sacred charter bring 
 From that starry court where the angels sing, 
 
 And where crowns of glory shine. 
 
 X. 
 
 Long life to the poet ! he reigns supreme 
 
 While the rolling years go by ; 
 Though monarchies change, like a changing dream, 
 And thrones are buried in Time's dark stream, 
 
 His empire cannot die. 
 
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