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POEMS. 
 
 26tf 
 
 BY 
 
 MISS LOUISA BLAKE. 
 
 •' Heath cannot separate — is memory dead ? 
 
 Has thought too, vanish'd, and has love grown chill; 
 Has every relic and memento fled ? 
 
 And are the living only with us still? 
 
 "No ! in our hearts the lost we mourn, remain, 
 
 Objects of love and ever fresh delight 5 
 And fancy leads them in her fairy train, 
 
 In half seen transports past the mourner's sight," 
 
 Edmeston. 
 
 BOSTON: 
 
 CARTER, HENDEE AND CO 
 
 1832. 
 
B V T T S . 
 
 F R. E S S « > F 
 
PREFACE 
 
 The following Poems, selected from a few manuscripts 
 left by the Author at her decease, have been printed as a 
 memorial for her friends • although not intended to extend 
 beyond the immediate circle of her acquaintance, yet jus- 
 tice to her, it is deemed, requires that it be here remarked, 
 that many of the pieces were written at an early age, 
 and with the exception of a few, merely for her own 
 -ratification. During many hours of solitude and suffer- 
 ing, it afforded Iter amusement, and probably assisted in 
 enabling her to preserve that uniform tranquillity of mind, 
 which must ever be associated with her memory in the 
 minds of her friends, — an evenness of disposition and un- 
 obtrusive virtue, which will long be remembered by those 
 with whom she was associated. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 v 
 
 Page. 
 
 Worship peculiarly due from Man, .... 1 
 
 Death, 3 
 
 There is an Hour, 5 
 
 Friendship, " 
 
 To the Clouds, 8 
 
 " Ye are changed," .10 
 
 Earth and Heaven, 1~ 
 
 Childhood, 14 
 
 "The World shall pass away," .... 16 
 
 The Sunday School, 18 
 
 Sabbath Eve, 20 
 
 Confidence in God, 22 
 
 Sensibility, 24 
 
 The Widow of Zareptha, 25 
 
 11 1 will never leave thee nor forsake thee," . . 28 
 
 Poetry, ... 30 
 
 Resignation, 31 
 
 Consolation under Affliction, 32 
 
 " Death cannot separate,' 34 
 
\1 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Recollections, 36,40,51 
 
 ~ Disappointment, 39 
 
 Happier Days, 42 
 
 TheGrave > 137,45 
 
 Solitude, y, 
 
 God our Refuge, ^g 
 
 Lines written on Reading H. K. White's Poem on Solitude, 53 
 
 Lines addressed to My Album, .... 54 
 
 Death, . 
 
 ' 00 
 
 The Haven, -q 
 
 Autumn, -, 
 
 To 1 63, 82 
 
 The Idiot Boy, (35 
 
 To a Brother at Parting, . . 79 
 
 Lines addressed to a Canary Bird, .... 74 
 
 Orphan's Song-, 7g 
 
 David and Goliah, ...... 7g 
 
 Address to a Ring, go 
 
 Fair Spirit ! touch those Chords again, ... 84 
 
 Lines on the Death of Lord Byron, ... g7 
 
 La Fayette, 89? 91 
 
 Hannah's Presentation of Samuel at the Temple, 93 
 
 Lines on the Death of W. F. P. . . . 97 
 
 Devotion, 90 
 
 Hymn to be sung at the Dedication of a Church, 101 
 " They went out into the Mount of Olives," . . .102 
 
 Lines on the Death of a Brother, ... 104 
 
 Lines to O. B. E. in * 
 
 Lines on the Death of a Mother and her Infant, 107 
 
 Morning Hymn, 109 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 1st Samuel, 16th, 
 
 The Widow's Son restored, 
 
 Hymn, .... 
 
 The Soul triumphant, 
 
 Thoughts in prospect of Death, 
 
 Lines on the Death of G. F. W. 
 
 Lines on the Death of T. B. W. 
 
 There is a God, 
 
 The Hindoo Widow, 
 
 Life and Death, 
 
 The Happy Change, 
 
 vu 
 
 Page. 
 111. 
 
 114 
 116 
 118 
 121 
 123 
 126 
 128 
 130 
 132 
 135 
 
WORSHIP PECULIARLY DUE 
 FROM MAN. 
 
 I look around, — the bright fair earth 
 With many votaries seems adoring 
 
 The Power that call'd it into birth, 
 And on it life and light is pouring ; 
 
 The Power whose love and constant care 
 
 Made and still keeps it brightly fair. 
 
 I seek the shaded grove's retreat, 
 
 And listen to the matin song, 
 Which, as it rises, wild and sweet, 
 
 Echo's soft answering strains prolong ; 
 Till to His ear the soft notes come 
 Who gave each little bird its home. 
 
 I seek the woods — and in the roar 
 Of their stern monarch, wild and free, 
 
 Methinks I hear him grateful pour 
 
 For his high place his thanks to Thee ; 
 
 To Thee, who made him free to roam 
 
 The pathless wilderness — his home. 
 1 
 
WORSHIP. 
 
 I seek the eagle's eyry high, 
 
 Whence he can soar, and unconfmed. 
 Beyond the reach of mortal eye, 
 
 Stretch his free pinions to the wind ; 
 When on that high and dizzy flight, 
 Does he not thank Thee for his might ? 
 
 I look on man, to whom is given 
 A thinking, reasoning, living soul, 
 
 Made to ascend and dwell in Heaven, 
 While years on years eternal roll ; 
 
 And does not he forever lift 
 
 His heart in praise for that high gift ? 
 
 Man, whose divine, immortal mind, 
 
 When the frail body is decay 'd, 
 May soar, from all earth's dross refined ; 
 
 Man, — little less than angel made ! 
 Man, — intellectual, moral, free, 
 A portion of divinity ! 
 
 Do not his full free thoughts aspire, 
 
 Higher and higher to ascend ? 
 Does not the spark of heavenly fire 
 
 Which warms his bosom, heavenward tend ? 
 O ! should not worship go abroad, 
 From man, the " noblest work of God ! " 
 
DEATH 
 
 There is a gleam of holiest light, 
 Diffused around the darksome tomb, 
 
 When its sad portals ope, — the bright, 
 The loved and lovely, to inhume ; 
 
 It is the hope, with comfort fraught, 
 That the pure spirit cannot die, 
 
 It is the sweet, the blissful thought, 
 Of certain immortality ; 
 
 And though the chill and heavy blight, 
 Fall coldly on the cherish'd form, 
 
 Which shed around our path a light, 
 As evening soft, as summer warm : 
 
 Let not the thoughts of its decay, 
 
 Our bleeding hearts with anguish fill, 
 
 Though beautiful, — the soul's pure ray, 
 Which only made it fair, — lives still. 
 
DEATH 
 
 And if it such a lustre spread, 
 O'er a frail form of mortal birth, 
 
 Think what a glorious light 'twill shed 
 Unfetter'd by the bonds of earth. 
 
THERE IS AN HOUR 
 
 There is an hour of deep distress, 
 When friends are call'd to part, 
 
 A grief which words may not express, 
 When heart is torn from heart. 
 
 There is an hour when none partakes 
 Our grief, or lends us aid, 
 
 'Tis when the heart in secret breaks 
 With hope too long delay'd. 
 
 There is an hour of agony 
 
 When young affection's flower, 
 
 Nipt in the bud, must droop and die 
 Blighted by death's stern power. 
 
 There is an hour of pure delight ! 
 
 'Tis when, earth's ties all riven, 
 The spirit takes its upward flight, 
 
 To join the bless'd in Heaven. 
 1* 
 
FRIENDSHIP. 
 
 Are there those who can say that the heart is not form'd 
 
 Affection's deep impress long to retain ? 
 That the bosom which once has by kindness been warm'd, 
 
 Can grow cold, and say friendship is nought but a name. 
 
 In warmest professions then is there no truth ? 
 
 Are they fleeting and frail as the meteor's light ? 
 Are the blossoms of friendship which flourish'd in youth 
 
 All blighted and crush'd in adversity's night ? 
 
 No ! the heart will long cherish the tender and warm 
 Emotions it felt when 'twas joyous and light ; 
 
 It knew not that sunshine foreboded a storm/ 
 
 And that sorrow would come, the young spirits to blight. 
 
 Time may lay his cold hand on the once youthful heart, 
 And chill the warm current of life as it flows ; 
 
 But he cannot a chill to affection impart, 
 
 Which runs on full and freely to life's latest close. 
 
FRIENDSHIP. i 
 
 And when to the heart there no more can be brought 
 One emotion of gladness, one thrill of delight, 
 
 When the eye, once the bright beaming mirror of thought, 
 Has grown dim in the darkness of age's drear night ; — 
 
 Yet touch but one link of the chain that still binds 
 The heart to the mem'ry of youth's joyous hour, 
 
 That it still is as firm as in youth you will find, 
 Time cannot corrode it, or weaken its power. 
 
 The cords of affection we never can part, 
 
 Whate'er be the tinge that from fortune they take ; 
 
 Hope, wealth, reason, honor, all else may depart, 
 
 But when these cords are broken, the heart too must 
 break. 
 
TO THE CLOUDS. 
 
 Ye do not darkly roll, ye clouds ! 
 
 Though mass on mass is piled so high, 
 Although your fleecy mantle shrouds 
 
 The melting azure of the sky. 
 
 Not darkly, for ye still retain 
 
 The vanish'd sun's last, lingering ray ; 
 O, why may ye not thus remain, 
 
 Why must that splendor fade away ! 
 
 So soft the rays their tints diffuse, 
 As the pure light is richly shed, 
 
 It seems as if the lovely hues 
 
 Some seraph's glowing pencil spread : 
 
 It seems as if those clouds, so full 
 Of richness, had some heavenly birth, 
 
 That things so brightly beautiful, 
 
 Could rise not from our cold damp earth. 
 
TO THE CLOUDS. 
 
 Ah ! they are earthly, for the ray 
 Shines not so brightly as before ; 
 
 Its beams are fading fast away, — 
 The last, faint streak is now no more. 
 
 Yes, it is gone ! and darkness dwells 
 Where light in its pure brightness shone, 
 
 And my sad heart now sadly swells, 
 For its light moments too are gone. 
 
YE ARE CHANGED." 
 
 Ye are changed, scenes of youth, and the bright sun of 
 gladness 
 
 On the fair glowing landscape no longer appears ; 
 To my eye nature now seems apparel'd in sadness, 
 
 For I view her alone, through the dim mist of tears. 
 
 Ye are changed, joys of youth ! for the innocent pleasure 
 Reflected from all things ahove and around, 
 
 Which shed light on my heart in its fulness of measure, 
 Can now r , in its freshness, no longer be found. 
 
 Ye are changed, hopes of youth ! which so brilliantly 
 lighted, 
 
 To fancy's fond visions, the scenes yet to come, 
 Cold reality's hand your fair blossoms has blighted ; 
 
 Exhaled is your fragrance, and wither'd your bloom. 
 
 Ye are changed, loves of youth ! which in beauty and 
 sweetness, 
 
 Like the rose, shed rich fragrance on life's summer day, 
 Alas ! ye partook of the fragile flower's fleetness, 
 
 As the sun rose to noonday, ye faded away. 
 
YE ARE CHANGED." 
 
 I will not on earth's sad vicissitudes dwell, 
 Ye stars ! that of all remain steadfast alone, 
 
 Jn your steady, high course, ye with certainty tell, 
 Of a glorious, all mighty, unchangeable One, 
 
 11 
 
EARTH AND HEAVEN 
 
 It was in youth, and flowers sweet 
 
 Their perfumes far and wide were flinging, 
 
 As closely cluster'd round my feet 
 In varied beauty they were springing ; 
 
 I looked around, and beings bright 
 
 Came o'er my 'raptured vision stealing 
 
 Like angel forms of life and light 
 
 Whose every glance spoke soul and feeling ; 
 
 I look'd above, and far on high 
 
 Countless worlds with me were sharing 
 
 His kind care who made the sky 
 As on they roll'd his love declaring ; 
 
 I look'd within, — my grateful heart 
 Was full of joy and life and gladness, 
 
 It thought not of afflictions dart, 
 
 It never dream'd of aught like sadness. 
 
EARTH AND HEAVEN. 13 
 
 Years pass'd — and lo ! the flowers so fair 
 
 Had all their fragrant petals shed, 
 Their graceful stems were bent and bare, 
 
 Their hues were faded — they were dead! 
 
 I look'd around — the forms so bright 
 
 Unmindful of their heavenly birth, 
 Had turn'd their souls from God's own light, 
 
 Had bound and chain'd them down to earth. 
 
 I look'd within, and there decay 
 
 Had touch'd the chain which bound me here, 
 Till link by link had dropp'd away, 
 
 And left my heart deserted, drear. 
 
 I raised once more my weeping eye, 
 
 Ere it should close in sorrow's night, 
 But no sad changes mark'd the sky, 
 
 There all was lovely, all was bright : 
 
 And there my wearied eye shall rest, 
 
 For to my heart is kindly given 
 In those bright skies, a presage blest, 
 
 Of changeless joy and peace in Heaven. 
 
CHILDHOOD. 
 
 Oh ! there is a dream of life's young day 
 
 'Tis a vision of love and of bliss, 
 It pours over all things a holy ray, 
 
 Too bright for a world like this ; 
 When the young pure heart in its joyous mirth 
 
 Beats with a rapture high, 
 As it looks all around on the beautiful earth, 
 
 And up to the glorious sky ! 
 
 The proud and the heartless ones may scorn, 
 
 May look coldly on or deride 
 The holy affections of life's young morn, 
 
 As they flow in their full warm tide ; 
 But if there is aught to be envied below 
 
 As bliss that is worthy of Heaven, 
 'Tis the feelings refined, in their holiest glow, 
 
 As to young, happy childhood they 're given. 
 
CHILDHOOD. 15 
 
 But alas ! the loveliest, sweetest flower, 
 
 Must shrink 'neath the withering blight, 
 And darkly and thickly the clouds will lower 
 
 To shadow the young spirit's light, 
 And the blest fond heart with its swelling gush 
 
 Of feelings exalted, high, 
 Will pine when it meets not the answering rush 
 
 Of a kindred sympathy. 
 
 Then sadly it feels that the spell is broken, 
 
 That the cold chill hand of time 
 Withers the flowers of which hope had spoken 
 
 In their bright and morning prime : 
 That the soul of man, that ethereal fire 
 
 Whose nature it is to rise, 
 Clings fondly to earth, without a desire 
 
 To mount and burst its ties. 
 
 Oh ! 'tis humbling to think the immortal mind 
 
 Grows fondly attached to earth, 
 Its visions tend downward, its pinions confined, 
 
 Forgetting its heavenly birth : 
 Oh ! they are most blest who unsullied and bright, 
 
 Released from mortality's clod, 
 In youth join the pure happy spirits of light 
 
 Surrounding the throne of God. 
 
THE WORLD SHALL PASS AWAY. 
 
 We cannot look around, and not perceive 
 
 Where'er we turn, the traces of decay, 
 Time's cold hand touches all; — those touches leave 
 
 An impress stronger each revolving day, 
 And though we willingly would shut our ear, 
 
 A still small voice, will whispering to us say, 
 Place not your fondest hopes on ohjects here, 
 
 For they, yourself, the world, shall pass away. 
 
 Yes, all must pass away, we truly know ! 
 
 Bach dear departed friend brings home the truth . 
 The bonds will break that hind us here below, 
 
 Old age departs, and then succeeds the youth ; 
 Each has his different ohject, end, success ; 
 
 To one the road of life is fair and smooth, 
 Another goes through life with none to bless, 
 
 None to care for him, and no one to sooth. 
 
"THE WORLD SHALL PASS AWAV." 17 
 
 And there are some whose grief lies buried, hid 
 
 Deep in the heart, far from the cold world's gaze, 
 And though the tears to rise they may forbid, 
 
 And they may be thought blest, — yet still there preys 
 Upon the very life a secret grief; 
 
 And yet there 's hope of brighter, happier days, 
 There is a glorious prospect of relief, 
 
 Which revelation's hallow'd page displays. 
 
 And though our little bark in the wild storm, 
 
 Upon the sea of life be rudely driven, 
 Though grief assail us in her every form 
 
 Each tie of love and fond affection riven ; 
 And though the billows of distress and care 
 
 Should rise and foam, and make our path uneven, 
 There is enough that 's bright, enough that *s fair, 
 
 Enough that's perfect, in yon azure Heaven. 
 
 2* 
 
THE SUNDAY SCHOOL. 
 
 Sure 'tis a sacred place, for there 
 
 The guiltless spirit bends, 
 By pure lips breathed, the holy prayer 
 
 From holy hearts ascends. 
 
 Ay, holy [• for the darksome blight 
 
 Of sin or of distress, 
 Hath not o'ershadow'd the pure light 
 
 Of those hearts' spotlessness. 
 
 'Tis sweet to turn from earth's sad strife 
 
 Such blissful sight to see, 
 Young beings their bright morn of life 
 
 Devoting, Lord, to thee. 
 
 Oh ! if there is a joy intense, 
 
 It is in youth, when given 
 In its unsullied innocence, 
 
 All meekly up to Heaven. 
 
THE SUNDAY SCHOOL. 19 
 
 And though around their future lot 
 
 Thick clouds and storms combine, 
 One star's soft light, one sunny spot, 
 
 Shall through the darkness shine. 
 
 And should temptation's splendors lure, 
 
 They '11 think of childhood's days, 
 Its bliss serene, its pleasures pure 
 
 And steadfast turn away. 
 
 Thus shall the sacred light of truth 
 
 So richly, fully shed, 
 On these bright spirits' joyous youth. 
 
 Through life its influence spread, 
 
SABBATH EVENING 
 
 How calm the evening of the hallow' d day ! 
 The noisy sound of wheels has long since ceased, 
 The tread of footsteps died upon my ear ; 
 The glorious moon has risen in the heaven, 
 And casts a soften' d lustre all around. 
 
 'Tis now the mind disposed for contemplation 
 
 Can look above this sublunary world ; 
 
 Can in imagination travel far, 
 
 To distant realms, unknown to mortal sight, — 
 
 Can roam through regions of infinity, 
 
 Can lift the curtain of futurity. 
 
 And see what is to be. Can look far back 
 
 To ages that have pass'd, and see what has been. 
 
 Oh, thou Almighty God ! at this lone hour, 
 
 When all around is sunk in calm repose, 
 
 Oh, may my grateful thoughts ascend on high ! 
 
SABBATH EVENING. 21 
 
 My feeble voice join the great song of praise 
 Which nature round is offering unto thee. 
 May every worldly, sinful thought be hush'd, 
 And may devotion's pure and gentle flame 
 Glow in my heart, and influence my life ; 
 May mild religion be my guide through life — 
 May it support me in the hour of death ; — 
 And when at last that solemn hour shall come, 
 When death shall lay his cold and icy hand 
 Upon my heart, and bid its beatings cease, 
 May my glad spirit, freed from cumbrous clay, 
 Shake off the load that kept it prisoner here, 
 And take its upward flight, to join the choirs 
 Of happy angels, who surround thy throne ; 
 Unite with them in their great song of praise, 
 And sing eternal glory to thy name. 
 
CONFIDENCE IN GOD 
 
 When dark afflictions gather round, 
 When friends their trust betray, 
 
 And when the few who really loved 
 Are torn by death away, — 
 
 We feel as if each kindly wish 
 
 Were frozen in the heart, 
 And that the links which bound us here 
 
 Are broken all apart. 
 
 And are we then left all alone, 
 
 Is there not one above ? 
 Yes ! and to him we may apply, 
 
 For God is perfect love. 
 
 Supported by his guardian hand, 
 
 I '11 steadfast fear no ill, 
 Want, penury, disease may come, 
 
 But I will trust him still. 
 
CONFIDENCE IN GOD. 23 
 
 Though sorrow come, and sickness sore 
 
 Bring me to death's dark shade, 
 In humble trust I will adore, 
 
 And never be dismay'd ; 
 
 For there is one firm, constant friend, 
 
 His love I '11 ne'er distrust, 
 And 'mid the chastenings he may send 
 
 Will still say, " God is just." 
 
SENSIBILITY. 
 
 I envy not the frozen heart 
 
 Which cannot feel another's wo, 
 
 For the cold calculating soul 
 The purest bliss can never know. 
 
 I envy hot the stoic's boast, 
 
 That he his feelings can enchain, 
 
 For truly they enjoy the most, 
 
 Who feel extremes of bliss and pain. 
 
 I envy not the harden'd mind 
 That never felt a load of care, 
 
 Nor yet the ever tearless eye 
 
 Which shows no fount of feeling there 
 
 But to the feeling heart and mind 
 Each sorrow brings with it relief, 
 
 For in the midst of agony, 
 There is a joy, "the joy of grief." 
 
THE WIDOW OF ZAREPTHA 
 
 The morning sun shone brightly 
 O'er mount, and stream, and sea, 
 
 And on the ear came lightly 
 The grove's rich melody. 
 
 It seem'd a day of gladness, 
 
 As if the very earth 
 Had shaken off all sadness, 
 For joyousness and mirth ; 
 
 A day to pour a healing 
 Upon the stricken breast, 
 
 In its calm joy revealing 
 A pledge of future rest. 
 
 But there was one lone dwelling , 
 
 One desolated spot, 
 From which low moans came telling, 
 
 That there the sun shone not. 
 3 
 
26 THE WIDOW OF ZAREPTHA. 
 
 One was within, whose sorrow 
 From that effulgent morn 
 
 No brilliant tint could borrow, 
 Her joy on earth was gone, 
 
 With grief too great for weeping, 
 
 She sat beside the bed, 
 Her lone watch silent keeping 
 
 Beside the lately dead. 
 
 Her heart in its deep sadness 
 
 Felt while she look'd on him, 
 All round might smile in gladness, 
 For her her light was dim. 
 
 The last bright spot was clouded 
 Left in her darken 'd sky, 
 
 When death's sad shadows shrouded 
 The light of that young eye ; 
 
 'Twas closed, yet life seemed clingiw 
 
 Still to the lovely clay, 
 And o'er the sweet face flinging 
 
 The bright but parting ray. 
 
THE WIDOW OP ZAREPTHA. 21 
 
 Though death's stern fetters bound him 
 
 In stillness dark and deep, 
 So peaceful all around him 
 
 It seemed a breathing sleep. 
 
 Thou mother, sad reclining 
 
 Beside thine only son, 
 Submissively resigning 
 
 Thy last, thy lovely one — 
 
 Soon blissful and adoring 
 
 Thy wondering eyes shall see 
 The power of God restoring 
 
 The dead to life and thee. 
 
"I WILL NEVER LEAVE THEE 
 NOR FORSAKE THEE." 
 
 Art thou sad, has sorrow banish'd 
 All enjoyment from thy breast ? 
 
 Have thy dreams of gladness vanish'd 
 As thy day of life progress'd ? 
 
 Dost thou weep o'er friendship blighted, 
 Bright and lovely hopes decay'd, 
 
 Weep o'er young affection slighted, 
 Or by withering scorn repaid ? 
 
 Have thy buds of promise faded 
 Ere they burst to perfect bloom ? 
 
 And has disappointment shaded 
 
 Youthful days with clouds of gloom ? 
 
 From thy too absorbing sorrow 
 Hast thou turned to others' grief, 
 
 And some comfort sought to borrow 
 By affording them relief? 
 
"I WILL NEVER LEAVE THEE." 29 
 
 Then when peace was gently stealing 
 
 O'er thy bleeding, broken heart, 
 By its gentle influence healing 
 
 All its anguish, all its smart ; 
 
 Hast thou look'd for grateful feeling 
 
 And from half averted eyes 
 Felt the cold, chill glance congealing 
 
 All thy heart's warm sympathies ? 
 
 Of kind friends did Heaven bereave thee ! 
 
 Still thou art not all alone, 
 He will not forsake, nor leave thee, 
 
 He, the high and mighty one. 
 
 Look to him, and he will lighten 
 
 Sorrow's sad and heavy load, 
 Look to him, and he will brighten 
 
 With his smile, thy life's drear road. 
 
 He is with thee — He hath riven 
 Ties which bound to earth thy heart, 
 
 That they may be joined in Heaven, 
 Where they never more shall part. 
 
 3* 
 
POETRY. 
 
 When the fountain of feeling is dried in the heart, 
 And languor and listlessness steal through the frame ; 
 
 When affection's kind language no joy can impart, 
 And we feel no delight in friendship's sweet name ; 
 
 What is it that then can true pleasure impart ? 
 
 What can the right tone to our feelings restore ? 
 'Tis poetry then, that will speak to the heart, 
 
 'Tis the soul-breathing numbers of Byron and Moore ! 
 
 Oh ! does there exist in this wide-spreading world, 
 A heart, which no natural feelings retains ? 
 
 A man who can read the sweet writings of Moore, 
 And not feel a rapture awaked by the strains ? 
 
 O that man must be cold and unfeeling indeed, 
 If the love of true poetry reach not his mind ! 
 
 All soulless and heartless, he '11 drag through his life, 
 His misery unsoften'd, — his bliss unrefined. 
 
RESIGNATION 
 
 This life is but a varied scene, 
 
 Alternate light and shade ! 
 The flowers just bloom beneath our feet, 
 
 And then they droop and fade. 
 
 In youth all prospects joyous seem, 
 Each path of life looks fair ; 
 
 But age soon proves 'twas all a dream — 
 We wake to pain and care. 
 
 Then since this world is such a scene 
 
 Of misery and of wo, 
 Since pain and grief obstruct our bliss 
 
 In this dark vale below ; 
 
 I'll place my hopes on Heaven above, 
 
 On joys which ne'er decay, 
 But which bloom brightly still, and fair, 
 
 When earth has pass'd away. 
 
CONSOLATION UNDER AFFLICTION 
 
 The dream is o'er: weak, vain, deluded heart. 
 Thy fondest hopes were placed on things below, 
 The ties that bound thee now are rent apart, 
 And disappointment's pang thou 'rt doom'd to know. 
 On all the future falls a shade of wo ; 
 The past has been a bright delightful scene, 
 Deep in the dust my joys are buried low, 
 And left the memory of what once has been, 
 That future sufferings may be yet more keen. 
 
 Yes, though thou knew'st earth's promises were nought, 
 
 Its firmest prop but a poor feeble reed, 
 
 Yet didst thou trust it as a firm support, 
 
 And find thy hope, thy trust, was vain indeed ; 
 
 And must my poor heart then forever bleed ? 
 
 Is there no one to whom I can apply ? 
 
 Yes, thou, great God ! will hear me in my need — 
 
 Wilt wipe the tear of anguish from my eye, — 
 
 And teach me to suppress each murmuring sigh. 
 
CONSOLATION UNDER AFFLICTION. 3$ 
 
 Guided by Thee, my confidence in Heaven, — 
 I'll draw my thoughts from earth, and fix them there, 
 For Thou hast said that they shall be forgiven, 
 Who turn to Thee, and trust Thy guardian care ; 
 Oh ! I will trust thy promise, and beware ; 
 No earthly object shall my heart retain ; 
 For now I know how pure the pleasures are 
 That flow from heavenly love, and ne'er again 
 Shall earthly disappointment give me pain. 
 
''DEATH C A N N O T S B P A It A T E . 
 
 'TlS sail to look back upon youth's sunny mom. 
 
 When the visions in which we delighted, 
 From the heart have been rudely and forcibly torn, 
 And the Mowers of our spring-tide arc blighted. 
 
 To think thai the eye which once beam'd bright 
 
 With the wild buoyant spirit of gladness, 
 Is now dim with tears, and that quench'd is its light 
 
 By the dark forms of sorrow anil sailucss. 
 To look around for the forms we have loved. 
 
 And find that they all have departed, 
 That the friend we adored, has long been removed, 
 
 And we left alone, broken-hearted. 
 
 Ah! those were bright dreams ofwhich fancy spread 
 The hue, with her own fair finger, 
 
 The colors so gorgeous, so flattering, have fled, 
 
 And o'er their loved meni'iy we linger. 
 
"DEATH CANNOT SEPARATE." 35 
 
 Yet why lament those who by death are withdrawn, 
 
 And from memory, anguish borrow ? 
 Should we not rather hope, that a happier dawn 
 
 May arise on the coming tomorrow ? 
 
 Yes, — and though the fond ties of affection and love 
 From the heart have been forcibly riven, 
 
 Those ties will be join'd yet more strongly above 
 When attach'd to their objects in Heaven. 
 
RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 Memory, why with magic power 
 Turn so oft to childhood's hour, 
 And, with vivid sketch, portray 
 All the joys of life's young day ? 
 Why bring up those beings bright 
 Who glanced upon my path of light — 
 
 To whom, my soul was bound by ties 
 Of kindred hopes, and sympathies ; 
 Was bound and blest, but one by one 
 Vanish'd away till all were gone, 
 And in its dark decrees, stern fate 
 Left me alone and desolate ? 
 
 Fate did I say ! — no, rather Heaven 
 
 Hath, in its perfect wisdom, riven 
 
 Cords which perhaps bound down my soul 
 
 Too much to earth, and its control ; 
 
 I would not in my grief repine ; 
 
 That hand is kind which is divine. 
 
RECOLLECT IONS. 
 
 Yet still my thoughts will sometimes rove 
 Back to the days of youthful love, 
 Of childish love; — which I have deem'd 
 Was such as on my pathway beam'd ; 
 The sad reverse my bosom knew 
 When she, the loved one, left me too. 
 For there was one in days now past, 
 Who clung the fondest, and the last, 
 On whom my heart reposed, in bliss 
 Too deep for such a world as this. 
 
 Her smiles now light another spot ; 
 
 Her presence cheers another's lot ; 
 
 One to whose happiness is given 
 
 All of her thoughts not claimed by Heaven ; 
 
 For whom, affection's holy tide 
 
 Flows in its fulness, far and wide, 
 
 Whose beaming smiles of joy and light 
 
 Will make his brightest hours more bright, 
 
 And whose pure love will cast a ray 
 
 Of sunshine on his darkest day. 
 
 Oh ! if there is a bliss on earth 
 Worthy a soul of heavenly birth, 
 4 
 
 37 
 
38 RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 'Tis human love, when pure, refined, 
 It links congenial mind with mind, 
 Lessening the bitter cup of wo 
 Which all must drink, who dwell below ; 
 And making penury's low cot 
 A sunny and a happy spot ! 
 
DISAPPOINTMENT. 
 
 Farewell to the dreams which in childhood 1 cherish'd ; 
 
 Farewell to the sunshine of youth's glowing day ; 
 Farewell to the flowers of my hope ; — they have perish'd, 
 
 Disappointment has touch'd them, they faded away. 
 
 Where, where now are they to whom friendship once 
 bound me, 
 
 The joy of my being, my life's purest light ? 
 Alas ! I then thought they would ever surround me ! 
 
 The smiles of affection be ever as bright ! 
 
 They have form'd other ties, and their smiles fall as bright, 
 And cheer with their sunshine some happier spot, 
 
 Where dear ones assemble, and shadows fall light, 
 While she, the once loved, is alone and forgot. 
 
 Oh, if there is bitterness, 'tis in the feeling 
 
 That we are less valued, less loved than before ! 
 
 If grief, it is when the cold glance is revealing 
 
 That warmly and fondly, we 're cherish'd no more ! 
 
RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 •• Tis night; and in darkness the visions of youth 
 Flit solemn and slow in the eye of the mind : 
 The hope they excited hath perish'd ; — and truth 
 Lament* o'er the wrecks they are leaving behind." 
 
 'Tis night, and thought rolls back to sketch anew 
 
 Scenes that have pass'd : they come like some lair dream, 
 
 Which morning light recalls to memory's view. 
 
 So bright, and yet so fleeting do they seem ; 
 
 Oh. would that some of their soft light would beam 
 
 Oi\ present days ! — that I might once more taste 
 
 The gushing fountain, and the lull free stream 
 
 0\ youthful joy. which runs along life's waste. 
 
 And makes all nature fresh and lovely seem. 
 
 Too freely at that sparkling fount I quaffd. 
 And thought its waves would ever be as sweet : 
 But sorrow soon was mingled in the draught. 
 And those bright waves did bitter waters meet : 
 The friends with whom 1 hoped for converse sweet 
 Through all life's flowery path and sunny way, 
 
RECOLL ECTtONS. 41 
 
 Droop'd withering round me, and my onward feet 
 Left them behind, to silence and decay. 
 
 I left them there, for I must still press on, 
 And leave each dear, and each familiar thing, 
 For friends could not from death's cold arms be won 
 By all my grief and all my sorrowing. 
 And now, life's summit gain'd, I gladly fling 
 The clouds from off my spirit ; and look back 
 To life's fresh clustering hopes and opening spring, 
 To which I now retrace life's mazy track ; 
 
 To memory's eye those scenes yet look most bright, 
 And though dark clouds now on my bosom press, 
 Like a far star, their soft and silvery light 
 Shall glow, to bless my lot of loneliness ; 
 That backward view shall still have power to bless ; 
 Its spreading light shall reach life's latest even, 
 And the soft, distant ray, will not glow less, 
 Till lost in the more glorious light of Heaven. 
 
 4* 
 
HAPPIER DAYS. 
 
 My weak, ungrateful, murmuring heart, 
 Whence that oft repeated sigh? 
 Dost thou weep at fortune's dart, 
 Weep thy hapless destiny ? 
 Are others' lots more hlest than thine r 
 Do others, murmuring, never say, 
 On some kind Heaven smiles henign, 
 And some exist more hlest than they? 
 
 Look around you ; — see the gay, 
 Noisy in their joyous mirth, 
 Would you then he such as they? 
 Their delights arc all of earth ! 
 See that bright and beaming face, 
 Perfect bliss, you say is there ; 
 Yet look again, and you may trace, 
 Beneath the mask, distress, despair. 
 
HAPPIER DAYS. \.\ 
 
 Yes, the face will often smile, 
 
 The boisterous laugh peal loud and high, 
 
 And the secret heart the while 
 
 Be breaking in its agony ; 
 
 So the hectic flush appears 
 
 Health to the observer's eye, 
 
 While 'tis the form disease most wears, 
 
 Death's sure, though lovely augury. 
 
 And my heart assents to this, 
 Feels that others too are sad ; 
 Yet it once was full of bliss, 
 Once was joyous, once was glad ; 
 Every day for pleasure broke,' 
 Every thing look'd fair and bright; 
 Fancy's visions only spoke 
 Of love and friendship's forms of light. 
 
 They have flown like dreams away, 
 Lovely dreams that could not last, 
 Bright the moments of their stay ; 
 Though they pass'd, too quickly pass'd ; 
 Clouds came gathering swiftly on, 
 And, with threatening portents dread, 
 Ere a few more sands had run, 
 Burst on my devoted head. 
 
44 HAPPIER DAYS. 
 
 Yet, O I can truly say ! 
 I would not exchange the bright, 
 The sunny hours of life's young day, 
 Though follow'd e'en by such a night, 
 For one long day of calm repose ; 
 For there 's a lively, heartfelt joy, 
 Which life's bright dawning only knows, 
 'Tis perfect, pure, without alloy. 
 
 And even now I may be blest, 
 Though press'd and bow'd by many a care, 
 My memory yet shall fondly rest 
 On scenes in youth so brightly fair ; 
 And though from my deserted heart 
 Each friend it dearly loved be riven, 
 We shall be join'd, no more to part, 
 In yon pure, shining, azure Heaven. 
 
THE GRAVE. 
 
 There is a rest for those who mourn, 
 A rest the weary fondly crave, 
 
 *T is found within that narrow bourn, 
 The silent grave. 
 
 There, on that still and lowly bed, 
 
 The sorrows which surround us cease, 
 
 There may we lay the aching head, 
 And sleep in peace. 
 
 There may the aged, whose dark fate 
 Has been one long, sad list of woes, 
 
 And the young heart made desolate, 
 Find sure repose. 
 
 But chief which makes the refuge dear, 
 Dear to the thoughts of those in grief. 
 
 Offering for every anguish here 
 A kind relief, — > 
 
46 THE GRAVE. 
 
 Is that while there shall peaceful rest 
 
 The stricken heart, which grief hath riven, 
 
 The spirit seeks her solace blest 
 Above in Heaven. 
 
SOLITUDE. 
 
 " It is not that my lot is low, 
 
 That bids the silent tear to flow, 
 It is not grief that makes me moan, 
 
 It is, that I am all alone." 
 
 Henry Kirke White. 
 
 Yes, it is wo ! a withering, sickening wo, 
 An eager glance on the bright world to fling, 
 And then to turn thought inward, and to know, 
 To feel our lonely hearts are withering ; 
 For they will wither if they may not cling 
 Around some object, — they will pine and die 
 E'en in the opening buds of early spring, 
 Unless some prop, — some loved support be nigh. 
 
 Oh ! I would gladly give the station high, 
 Would joyously the charms of wealth resign, 
 To meet the glance of kindness from one eye, 
 If but the treasures of one heart were mine ; 
 For we may go where mirth and song combine, 
 May seek the hall which joyous beings fill, 
 And yet when all are gay, we still may pine, 
 The heart, the heart, alas ! be lonely still. 
 
GOD OUR REFUGE. 
 
 Oh ! would my sorrowing heart could fling 
 Its grief away ; 
 
 And feel, as felt it in its spring, 
 
 Joyous and gay ; 
 
 When friends beloved their love express'd, 
 In music's tone, 
 
 And all that makes the young heart bless'd, 
 I called my own ; 
 
 When busy thought would seek to stretch 
 Through life's long day, 
 
 And fancy's vivid pencil sketch 
 
 A flowery way ; 
 
 As onward in a path of light 
 
 I [er feet would roam. 
 
 And paint in colors false as bright, 
 
 The time to come. 
 
GOD OUR REFUGE. 4i) 
 
 Ere the cold world had bid repress 
 
 The gushing tide, 
 Of childhood's holy tenderness, 
 
 Which flows so wide ; 
 
 Ere hope, which cast her cheering beam 
 
 On all my way, 
 Changed to a pale and sickly gleam — 
 
 A feeble ray ; 
 
 And Oh ! ere fond hearts grew estranged, 
 
 And love's soft tone, 
 To cold and withering accents changed, 
 
 Told friendship gone. 
 
 But is there none when cold decay 
 
 Kips friendship's bloom, 
 
 No friend in all my weary way, 
 
 But the lone tomb ? 
 
 Yes, there is One, who will not scorn 
 The stricken heart, 
 If it hath ever meekly borne 
 
 Its bitter part. 
 5 
 
50 GOD OUR REFUGE. 
 
 By firmer ties the heart is bound 
 
 When earth's are riven. 
 
 There is a balm for every wound 
 
 Above, in Heaven. 
 
RECOLLECTIONS 
 
 The morning was glorious, unsullied and bright; 
 
 The sun shed his purest and loveliest light, 
 
 As he moved on the course majestic and high, 
 
 Which his maker had traced, through the far-spreading sky. 
 
 With friends fondly loved, at the day's early dawn, 
 I rode out to enjoy the pure air of that morn, 
 And nothing was wanting to heighten to each 
 The pleasures, so pure, of our ride on the beach. 
 
 That excursion of joy, I remember it yet, 
 
 The emotions excited I cannot forget, 
 
 They were mingled 'tis true, but they all were of bliss 
 
 Too exalted to last, in a world such as this. 
 
 The water's smooth surface unruffled and even, 
 Reflected the clear, shining azure of heaven ; 
 In each breath new existence I seem'd to inhale, 
 And health, buoyant spirit, seem'd borne on each gale. 
 
52 RECOLLECTIONS. 
 
 Oh, lives there a person so soulless, so cold, 
 As the fathomless waters unmoved to hehold ! 
 Oh, is there a heart that does feel no emotion, 
 While gazing on thee, thou magnificent ocean ? 
 
 All gentle and calm was thy motionless breast, 
 
 As the billows subsided and sunk into rest, 
 
 And the peace of thy blue waves, so lovely and even. 
 
 Seemed an emblem of that which awaits us in Heaven. 
 
 My sufferings and griefs I remembered them not, 
 For one happy hour they were over — forgot ; 
 I seemed borne to a region of loveliest light, 
 Where all was enjoyment, and all things were bright. 
 
 And though there were tears that unbidden arose 
 As my mind once reverted to life and its woes, 
 1 felt grateful for those few bright moments of joy, 
 So pure, so unmingled with any alloy. 
 
 And now faithful memory, with magical power, 
 
 Brings back that bright morning, that heart cheering hour, 
 
 And in fancy's fond visions I still seem to be, 
 
 Tn transport beholding thy boundlessness, sea ! 
 
LINES, 
 
 WRITTEN UrON READING II. K. WHITE'S POEM ON SOLITUDE. 
 
 And art thou then indeed alone, 
 
 Docs no kind heart responsive beat, 
 
 And does thy smile, so seldom seen, 
 
 No answering smile of friendship meet ? 
 
 Do those who loved thee now forsake, 
 Immersed in paltry gains and cares? 
 
 Thou couldst not in their joys partake, 
 For joys of earth and sense; arc theirs. 
 
 From thy high summit look not down 
 
 On those who are so far below, 
 But look above, and thou shall sec 
 
 The star of hope serenely glow. 
 
 Mourn not that tics which bound thee here 
 From thy young heart so soon are riven, 
 For happy thou when all arc broke, 
 
 And thy pure soul is call'd to Heaven. 
 
 5# 
 
TO MY ALBUM 
 
 Go, little volume ! cull the flowers, 
 The mental flowers, that ne'er decay, 
 
 Go, gather them from friendship's bowers, 
 For none so bright, so sweet as they. 
 
 Go, twine for me a lovely wreath 
 Of all the various plants combined, 
 
 Gather the flowers that plenteous bloom 
 In that rich soil, the cultured mind. 
 
 And in thy pages, now so pure, 
 
 May genius, wit, and sense combine, 
 
 Affection's strain, kind friendship's prayer, 
 Adorn each leaf, breathe through each line. 
 
 When all thy leaves memorials fill, 
 I will thy wandering steps recall, 
 
 And cherish the mementos till 
 
 I part from life, from friends, from all. 
 
DEATH. 
 
 Oh ! is it not a dreadful thing to die 
 
 In the bright morning of youth's happy day, 
 
 When all things joyous look, and hope smiles fair, 
 
 With the bright promise of a blissful life ? 
 
 Is it a mournful thing, to see the cheek 
 
 Once brighten'd with the rosy glow of health 
 
 Grow pale ami thin ? To see consumption fix 
 
 Her gentle, but, alas ! too fatal hand 
 
 On the light buoyant form, all animate 
 
 With hope and youth, — and by degrees 
 
 To weaken all its energies ? To see 
 
 The eye which once with bright effulgence beam'd. 
 
 In whose expression you could read the soul, 
 
 Look brightly still, but with unnatural lustre ? 
 
 Oh ! is't not hard to break the thousand ties, 
 
 So woven and entwined around the heart, 
 
 To see the flowers of friendship droop and fade, 
 
 Blighted by death's cold, chilling, withering blast, 
 
 To have the young affections nipp'd by death, 
 
56 DEATH. 
 
 Those sweetest bonds which bind us to the earth ! 
 
 But are they nipp'd by death ? No ! they will live, 
 
 And swell the heart with kindlier warmth in Heaven ; 
 
 Its growth not check'd by coldness or distrust, 
 
 It there will flourish in its full perfection. 
 
 No I the soul's energies are not extinct, 
 
 It dies not when the feeble body dies ; 
 
 It then begins to live, and the small spark, 
 
 Soon as it quits its earthly prison house, 
 
 Is kindled to a flame of light divine. 
 
 Oh ! who would wish to live till age had cramp'd 
 The youthful powers ! Till time had laid his hand, 
 His cold, chill hand, on the slow beating heart 
 And palsied every feeling ! Live to mourn 
 Friends of his youth torn from his sight by death, 
 While he, a wither'd tree reft of its boughs, 
 Must stand to brave the pelting of the storm, 
 Till by degrees it crumbles into dust, 
 With not a friend to mark its slow decline, 
 And not an eye to weep its final fall ! 
 Oh, yes ! the sun of such a one must set 
 In clouds. True, it may rise on a bright day, 
 A bright and glorious day, when he shall meet, 
 After long parting, with his friends in Heaven. 
 
DEATH. 57 
 
 But yet to spend so many years on earth, 
 
 When all that made life beautiful and blest 
 
 Are torn from our embrace — when the sear'd heart 
 
 Wound after wound receives, till it can bleed 
 
 No longer, and the warm current of life 
 
 Which once in gladness bounded through the veins, 
 
 Now cold and sluggish creeps along its course, 
 
 Till death shall kindly bid it cease to flow. 
 
 Oh, yes ! there is a loneliness in age, 
 
 A feeling of desertion and neglect, 
 
 When the sick heart looks round the bustling world, 
 
 For one that is congenial to itself, 
 
 And finds not one that beats in unison. 
 
 Affection's links, when once they 're torn apart 
 
 By death's unheeding, unrelenting hand, 
 
 Cannot entwine themselves a second time 
 
 Around an earthly object — can but once 
 
 Feel that pure bliss which generous friendship sheds 
 
 O'er two young hearts, united in the bonds 
 
 Of kindred sympathies and sentiments ; 
 
 Oh, say then they are blest whom Heaven shall call 
 
 From earth ere disappointment's iron hand 
 
 Press heavy on the heart — before the tooth 
 
 Of keen remorse turn bliss to agony. 
 
58 DEATH. 
 
 For the pure spirit it is bliss to die, 
 And tin; more lovely is the beauteous flower, 
 Which death transplants ere yet 'tis quite unfolded, 
 The better worthy 't is to bloom in Heaven. 
 
THE HAVEN. 
 
 I saw a little bark alone and cast 
 
 Upon a wide, unfathomable sea ; 
 
 The sea of human life : — The waters round 
 
 Were smooth and calm and peaceful, and itseem'd 
 
 A lovely place for the light fragile thing 
 
 That floated on its surface, and the sun 
 
 Shone sweetly on it, as its placid breast 
 
 Reflected heaven : — JVlethought 't was beautiful 
 
 To float thus gently down the stream of life, 
 
 And as I thought I look'd abroad and gazed 
 
 Upon the mighty ocean which was spread 
 
 In one grand sheet before me, and I saw 
 
 (And trembled at the sight,) huge mountain waves, 
 
 The least of which might in its whelming crush, 
 
 Press down that slender bark forever ; 
 
 I wept to think that ere its voyage was o'er 
 
 The object of my fond solicitude 
 
 Must pass that dreadful sea ; and if the first 
 
 Terrific breaker did not swallow it, 
 
60 THE HAVEN. 
 
 It would be toss'd about, the cruel sport 
 
 Of winds and waves before it should arrive 
 
 (Perhaps all shatter'd) at its destined port. 
 
 How prone are we to anticipate the worst ! 
 
 That little bark was in the hands of one 
 
 Who could uphold it in the fiercest storm ; 
 
 He did uphold it and made all its voyage 
 
 Though short yet most delightful — while I look'd, 
 
 E'en while I gazed upon it, ere it left 
 
 The quiet tranquil spot on which it sail'd, 
 
 'Twas wafted onward to a lovely shore, 
 
 A blissful haven, which no storms could reach ; 
 
 Yet perfect and as fair as when at first 
 
 Its maker cast it on that sea of life, 
 
 He took it thence — for 'twas too beautiful, 
 
 Too frail and lovely far, to be toss'd round, 
 
 A shattered, worthless wreck. 
 
AUTUMN 
 
 There is a pleasure felt amid the gloom 
 
 Of autumn's sad and desolating reign, 
 
 And though we mourn the flower's departed bloom 
 
 We feel assured they will revive again ; 
 
 The seeds of life, though latent, still remain, 
 
 They sleep to burst in brighter loveliness 
 
 And 'neatli the snows of winter, will attain 
 
 Fresh power to charm us, fairer hues to bless, 
 
 And sweet in fragrance, Heaven's kind care confess. 
 
 There 's beauty also in the changing hues 
 Of the rich foliage of an autumn's day, 
 And I have sat for hours to think, to muse, 
 And see the bright, clear, dazzling sunbeams play 
 Upon the leaves, which lighted by the ray, 
 Seem'd like the rainbow's soft and lovely dyes, 
 When on a smiling, tearful April day 
 The glorious pledge of peace attracts our eyes, 
 As it in graceful arch, extends across the skies. 
 6 
 
62 AUTUMN. 
 
 And it is pleasant, although sad to see 
 
 In the decay of nature's lovely bloom 
 
 An emblem of our own mortality, 
 
 Memento of our progress to the tomb ; 
 
 Yet though this thought alone is one of gloom, 
 
 We may look forward with refined delight 
 
 Beyond death's portals, where we shall assume 
 
 A new existence, gloriously bright, 
 
 And spend one lasting spring in Heaven's unchanging light. 
 
TO 
 
 I 'd cull, my friend, the fairest flowers 
 And wreath a chaplet sweet, 
 
 Emblem of friendship's sunny hours 
 Were such memorial meet ; 
 
 But it is not ; — for cold and gloom 
 Those lovely hues would fade, 
 
 While true affection's roses bloom 
 More brightly in the shade ; 
 
 I 'd give thee gems, a splendid show 
 
 Of jewels rare and bright, 
 The ruby in its richest glow, 
 
 The diamond's purest light, 
 
 But though the lustre they impart 
 
 Fall brightly on the eye, 
 It draws not nearer to the heart 
 
 Affection's tender tie ; 
 
64 to . 
 
 I 'd give thee wealth, if I could trust 
 That thou would'st love me more 
 
 I 'd pile on high the shining dust 
 And heap the precious ore ; 
 
 But this I know would be in vain 
 
 Remembrance to impart, 
 The purest, strongest golden chain, 
 
 Cannot link heart with heart ; 
 
 Then take my gift, this little book, 
 The small " memorial v — 
 
 And when you on its pages look 
 May it your friend recall ; 
 
 And should some passage pure and high 
 
 Speak to your inmost soul, 
 Think, while your heart admires, that I 
 Have felt its sweet control. 
 
THE IDIOT BOY.* 
 
 In a remote sequestered glen, 
 
 Far from the busy haunts of men, 
 
 In years long since gone by, there stood 
 
 An humble dwelling, low and rude, 
 
 Beneath whose roof, in peaceful rest, 
 
 An aged man lived happy, — blest; 
 
 His fondest care, his only joy, 
 
 A poor, weak, helpless, idiot boy ; 
 
 And 'twas that very helplessness, 
 
 As all unable to express 
 
 The grief or bliss, the joy or wo 
 
 Which light or shade young childhood's brow 
 
 That claimed a father's tenderest care. — 
 
 His was a face most sweetly fair, 
 
 And, though no thought it could express, 
 
 Of most surpassing loveliness ; 
 
 Such loveliness as oft is shed 
 
 * From a tale in Friendship's Offering for 1826. 
 6* 
 
()6 THE IDIOT BOY. 
 
 Around the fair and beauteous dead, 
 
 When spirit, feeling, soul is fled. 
 
 Oh, it is mournful thus to find 
 
 A human form without a mind ! 
 
 And yet it seem'd as if a ray 
 
 Of intellect would sometimes play 
 
 Across his sadly pensive face, 
 
 And light it one brief moment's space ; 
 
 But quick the meteor flash was o'er, 
 
 And left it tranquil, as before. 
 
 Unlit by mind, his soft blue eye 
 
 Was often fixed on vacancy ; 
 
 And sometimes on a lovely even 
 
 The tearful orbs were raised to Heaven, 
 
 As though he felt how lone and drear 
 
 And desolate his path was here, 
 
 And sunk beneath the withering blight 
 
 Of utter darkness, mental night, 
 
 That night whose sad and chilling gloom, 
 
 Nips life's sweet roses' fairest bloom ; 
 
 And yet, his life was not all shade, 
 
 For in bright intervals there play'd 
 
 A beam of gladness round his heart, 
 
 And made one part, one little part 
 
 Of life, to this poor idiot boy, 
 
 A scene of bright, unmingled joy ; 
 
THE IDIOT BOY. 67 
 
 'Twas filial love ; — as pure, refined, 
 As ever raised the noblest mind ; 
 The earliest passion, only one 
 His single heart had ever known, 
 And the affections as they glow'd 
 Concentred in one channel flow'd, 
 One still, deep stream of filial love, 
 Which could not wander, could not rove. 
 And can proud boasting man, elate 
 In mental riches, deprecate 
 The pleasures of this simple pair? 
 Oh, let him to that hut repair, 
 That lowly, humble, wretched cot, 
 And envy those two beings' lot ! 
 That son, who, since to life he sprang, 
 Ne'er gave his father's heart a pang ; 
 That father, offering thanks to Heaven 
 That to his heart this boy was given, 
 With one pure source of joy endued 
 Feelings of warmest gratitude. 
 
 Unmingled bliss is not of earth ; 
 It is of higher, holier birth ; 
 And this the heart -struck parent felt 
 When by his idiot boy he knelt, 
 
68 THE IDIOT BOY. 
 
 And watch'd his short and laboring breath 
 And marked his features fix'd as death, 
 Save when a dart of sudden pain 
 Convulsed — then left them still again ; 
 And in the intervals his eye 
 Would seek his father's mournfully, 
 As if to ask him to assuage 
 Disease's strongest wildest rage : 
 Poor boy ! not wont to ask in vain 
 Thy father's care to ease thy pain. 
 That fond, appealing, mournful look, 
 The father could no longer brook, 
 His poor unconscious boy he press'd 
 An instant to his bursting breast, 
 Stroked back the glossy ringlets bright 
 From off his brow so deadly white, 
 And saw with agony intense, 
 No signs of mute intelligence 
 As he endeavor'd to explain 
 That he would soon return again ; 
 Then rush'd with grief, with anguish wild, 
 To seek assistance for his child. 
 The winter twilight now had pass'd, 
 The snow was falling thick and fast, 
 Yet onward was the old man driven 
 Unmindful of the blasts of heaven, 
 
THE IDIOT BOY. 69 
 
 For all without was peace and rest 
 Compared to his distracted breast. 
 But soon a deathlike torpor stole 
 With power benumbing o'er his soul, 
 He felt no pain, but calm and still 
 Crept o'er his limbs a shuddering chill. 
 One deep drawn heartfelt sigh he gave, 
 To think that snow must be his grave ; 
 One groan of bitter agony 
 As, thinking of his idiot boy, 
 He roused his energies to make 
 One effort more — he could not break 
 The icy bonds that firmly clasp 
 Each powerless limb in iron grasp. 
 He sunk to earth alone to die, 
 No succor, no assistance nigh. 
 He lay, but lay not long alone, 
 A soft cheek press'd against his own, 
 Seem'd as its warmth it would impart 
 To bring back life to that still heart ; 
 A soft hand stroked that furrow'd brow, 
 A fond lip kiss'd that cheek of snow. 
 Fair arms that form so motionless, 
 Clasp'd in a long and warm caress. — 
 The father felt the warm embrace, 
 He felt the kiss upon his face, 
 
70 THE IDIOT BOY. 
 
 He knew the signs which did express 
 
 His idiot boy's fond tenderness, 
 
 He knew that he had left his home 
 
 In that dark, fearful night, to roam 
 
 Across the wilds, who ne'er before 
 
 Left for an hour the cottage door, 
 
 While Heaven his wandering way did guide 
 
 To perish by his father's side. — 
 
 He came, and long and vainly strove 
 
 By fond endearments, playful love, 
 
 To raise those lids which ere this hour 
 
 Unclosed beneath the magic power 
 
 Of his warm kiss, now given in vain — 
 
 Those eyes shall ne'er unclose again. 
 
 With grief he saw his fond caress 
 
 Met no return of tenderness, 
 
 And that he could not break that sleep, 
 
 So deadly still, so strangely deep ; 
 
 Till finding all his efforts vain 
 
 Repeated o'er and o'er again, 
 
 He sunk upon his chilling bed, 
 
 A snow-wreath pillow'd his fair head, 
 
 One arm flung o'er his father's breast, 
 
 His warm cheek to that form he press'd ; 
 
 Warm for a time, — but soon a chill 
 
 Struck to his heart and it was still : 
 
THE IDIOT BOY. 71 
 
 The father felt that warmth had fled, 
 
 And knew his idiot boy was dead ; 
 
 His grateful heart gave thanks to Heaven 
 
 That nature's ties were gently riven, 
 
 And pray'd that they ere long mightmeet, 
 
 Together at their Saviour's feet : 
 
 And canst thou doubt his earnest prayer 
 
 To Heaven, found acceptance there ? 
 
 That when his heart's faint beatings ceased 
 
 And his tried spirit was released, 
 
 That to his longing soul was given 
 
 To meet his idiot boy in Heaven ? 
 
 Oh, no ! we cannot doubt, for sure 
 
 His gentle spirit was as pure, 
 
 As worthy of its heavenly birth 
 
 As e'er it came to dwell on earth ; 
 
 It never knew the chilling blight 
 
 Which sin casts o'er the spirit's light ; 
 
 And ne'er did crime's dark current roll 
 
 Its troubled waters o'er his soul : 
 
 Then sure the shackles which confined, 
 
 On earth, his high, immortal mind, 
 
 Were burst in sunder when the soul 
 
 Ascended to the heavenly goal, 
 
 When clothed in pure effulgence bright, 
 
 It moves, an angel form of light. 
 
TO A BROTHER, AT PARTING 
 
 My brother ! must you leave us then ? 
 
 Must you then seek some distant shore ? 
 Then one last kiss, for oh, I fear 
 
 That we now part, to meet no more ! 
 
 But, oh, 'tis hard, 'tis very hard, 
 When we are parting with the few 
 
 Whom we have loved, — so dearly loved, 
 To speak that little word adieu. 
 
 May prosperous gales then waft you safe, 
 To the far distant, destined shore ! 
 
 And may the power in whom you trust, 
 Guard you, and guide you evermore, 
 
 And when o'er ocean thou art driven 
 When nought is round but sky and sea, 
 
 Then may your thoughts ascend to Heaven, 
 To meet the prayers that rise for thee. 
 
TO A BROTHER, AT PARTING. 73 
 
 And when at last an utter stranger, 
 
 Upon a foreign shore you stand, 
 May God, to shield you from all danger, 
 
 Extend his own almighty hand. 
 
 And when the object is completed 
 For which you left your native shore, 
 
 May you return again to bless us ; 
 Return again to go no more. 
 
 Farewell ! the vessel now is ready, 
 
 " The waves beneath her proudly swell ;" 
 
 May guardian angels shield, protect thee 
 
 My dear, dear brother, fare thee well ! 
 
LINES 
 
 ADDRESSED TO A CANARY BIRD. 
 
 Farewell, thou little songster ! 
 
 Thou cheerer of my heart ; 
 Thy former mistress claims thee — 
 
 And we, alas ! must part. 
 
 When I had newly fed thee — 
 
 Had given thee fresh food, 
 Thy little songs were sweeter, 
 
 To express thy gratitude. 
 
 When doubts and fears perplex'd me, 
 My mind borne down with care, 
 
 Thy little notes have cheer'd me, 
 And made all bright and fair. 
 
 I loved thee but too fondly, 
 And now no more must hear 
 
 Thy little voice so sweetly 
 Salute my 'raptured ear. 
 
LINES ADDRESSED TO A CANARY BIRD. 75 
 
 Oh, may you still be happy, 
 
 When far from me you dwell ! 
 And now go, go, and leave me, 
 Sweet songster, fare thee well ! 
 
ORPHAN'S SONG. 
 
 Poor, friendless orphans ; we were left 
 
 Deserted, desolate, alone, 
 Of parents, friends and home bereft, 
 
 On a wide world of strangers thrown. 
 
 Too young to work, by hunger led, 
 
 We wander'd round from place to place ; 
 
 The cold ground was our only bed ; 
 Death stared us sternly in the face ; 
 
 But generous ladies heard our plaint, 
 And snatch'd us, both from vice and sin, 
 
 The asylum gates they open'd wide 
 And bade each orphan child come in. 
 
 Dear, generous patrons ! first to Heaven, 
 Then to yourselves, our thanks are due ; 
 
 You must be blest, for morn and even, 
 The orphan's prayer shall rise for you. 
 
ORPHAN'S SONG. 
 
 If high or low our lot shall be, 
 
 With thorns, or flowers our path be strew'd, 
 These orphan girls will ne'er forget 
 
 The sacred bond of gratitude. 
 
DAVID AND GOLIAH. 
 
 There was a peace and quiet in the camp 
 
 Of the opposing armies, as they lay 
 
 Within their tents upon the highest points 
 
 Of the twin mountains ; — no one would have thought 
 
 As they lay stretch'd beneath the quiet sky 
 
 In such apparent harmony, that hate 
 
 Render'd each bosom the unhallow'd seat 
 
 Of the worst passions man can bear to man. 
 
 It was the calmness that precedes the storm, 
 
 The stillness nature sheds on leaf and tree 
 
 As a brief prelude to entire destruction. 
 
 Already at the morning's earliest dawn, 
 The note of preparation had begun, 
 And those two mighty forces were to rush 
 On to the work of death, for none so brave 
 To meet the challenge of that mighty man 
 Whose dread approach at even and at morn 
 Spread panic and affright, through every heart, 
 As he came forth in his gigantic strength, 
 
DAVID AND GOLIAH. 79 
 
 To challenge to the combat, and to praise, 
 
 In words of cruel scoffing, the brave hearts 
 
 Which form'd that mighty army ; to admire 
 
 The latent courage, which was hid so deep 
 
 That all his various efforts quite had fail'd 
 
 To elicit hitherto a single spark ; 
 
 That they possess'd this courage he declared 
 
 (With bitter irony,) he knew full well ; 
 
 For they had often said, their hearts were strong, 
 
 Their spirits fearless, and to doubt the words 
 
 So oft repeated of such valiant men 
 
 Were most uncourteous : — but these all fail'd 
 
 His cold derision, and those bitter taunts, 
 
 Which soonest touch the heart and make it wake 
 
 From any lethargy, now wholly fail'd 
 
 To reach their slumbering and palsied souls. 
 
 The far extended host, collected there 
 
 As patriots to assert their country's rights, 
 
 As what they valued more than life itself, — 
 
 That chosen people whom the most high God 
 
 Had highly favor'd, and who now had come 
 
 To vindicate and to declare his name 
 
 Against a heathen foe who knew him not, 
 
 Lay bound and fetter'd by their slavish fear ; 
 
 While the deep sin press'd heavier on their souls 
 
80 DAVID AND GOLIAH. 
 
 As day by day they heard the haughty man, 
 Blaspheme the great Creator, as he bid 
 Defiance, both to Israel, and her God. 
 
 They were prepared ; and the opposing bands 
 
 Stood ready for the battle ; when once more, 
 
 For the last time the trumpet's sound was heard, 
 
 And once again the herald's voice proclaimed, 
 
 The oft repeated challenge. 
 
 There was a breathless and a deathlike pause — 
 
 Not a voice ansvver'd, not a foot was stirr'd, 
 
 But many eyes were bent upon the face 
 
 Of stern Goiiah, as he proudly stood 
 
 With his tall form drawn to its fullest height, 
 
 And his arms folded on his giant breast, 
 
 While his lip curl'd in his supreme contempt, 
 
 And his dark eye sent forth its bitter scorn, 
 
 As once again he impiously bid 
 
 His blasphemous defiance. 
 
 As he turn'd slowly round to leave the spot, 
 And Israel's soldiers dared not raise their eyes 
 To sec the humbling and the burning shame 
 That redden'd on each cheek, to think that none 
 Of all that countless band, would risk his life, 
 His single life, for Israel's sake, and God's. 
 
DAVID AND GOLIAH. 81 
 
 Then rush'd upon the spot, with breathless haste, 
 
 A stripling youth, whose slight and tender frame 
 
 Seem'd scarcely fitted to contend against 
 
 More than an infant's strength, and calPd aloud 
 
 Upon the bold contemner of his God, 
 
 To turn and to retract his impious words, 
 
 Or meet him in the fight. — Goliah turn'd, 
 
 And stood in silent wonder, that a boy, 
 
 A stripling, should come boldly forth and meet 
 
 The danger old and bearded men had shrunk from. 
 
 They met — Goliah with his lance and spear 
 
 With all his giant limbs encased in steel, 
 
 And David in his shepherd's humble dress, 
 
 No instrument of warfare save a stone 
 
 Chosen from the clear small brook — but 't was enough ; 
 
 Undaunted he advanced — He knew that God, 
 
 Who once had saved him from the lion's jaw, 
 
 Was as strong now, to shield him from the hand 
 
 Of that bad man, — and as he placed his stone 
 
 Within the sling, he felt his arm was strong, 
 
 And his eye steady, while with all his skill 
 
 He hurl'd it at the proud deriding foe. 
 
 The work of death was done — It had sunk deep 
 
 Into Goliah's forehead, and he fell 
 
 And Israel was free! 
 
TO 
 
 The streamlet glides sweetly along 
 The surface unruffled and smooth, 
 
 Its waters are peaceful and calm 
 As the. innocent bosom of youth ; 
 
 Not a zephyr breathes o'er to disturb 
 The waves as they peacefully flow, 
 
 But it glides still and silently on 
 Till 't is lost in the ocean below ; 
 
 Like this streamlet, dear girl, be thy life, 
 May no storms ever ruffle your breast, 
 
 But may it glide gently along 
 
 Till you reach the bright mansions of rest. 
 
ADDRESS TO A RING 
 
 Yes, little glittering pledge, my ring ! 
 
 I love to watch thy emerald's glow, 
 Thou wert given me in childhood's spring, 
 
 And life shone bright, as ye do now ; 
 Then dreams of bliss shone in my eye, 
 And danced in joyous gayety. 
 
 My ring ! 't is not thy gold I prize 
 
 Nor pearls that wreath thy glittering gem, 
 
 Though it in dazzling lustre vies 
 To eclipse a regal diadem, 
 
 Oh, no ! 't is this which memory brings 
 
 To hallow friendship's offerings ; 
 
 But fond dreams fade, and friendships die, 
 And love, and honor pass away, 
 
 E'en proud ambition soars on high 
 To fall a victim to decay, 
 
 And, ring, perchance you will but linger 
 
 To grow dim on death's icy finger. 
 
Fair Spirit ! touch those chords again, 
 And wake to rapture every feeling, 
 Revive, resume that mournful strain, 
 Each corroding grief revealing ; 
 Those sweet rotes so wildly breathing, 
 Speak of other worlds than this, 
 Hearing them, my spirit, leaving 
 Earth, ascends to worlds of bliss. 
 
 She heard, and on her lute with grace 
 Were her taper fingers flung 
 Resignation in her face, 
 Inspiration on her tongue ; 
 
 Spirit, stay ! Oh, do not leave me ! 
 Tell me ! tell me who you are ! 
 Do my senses then deceive me, 
 Art thou not real, form so fair ? 
 Oh ! 't was fancy — visions oft 
 Float around this throbbing head, 
 
85 
 
 'T is not madness, they 're more soft, 
 More fair, than ever madness spread. 
 Ever since my childhood's hour 
 Imagination would portray 
 Scenes so fair, I had no power 
 To tear them from my mind away. 
 'T was a bright, a glorious day 
 When my 'rapt spirit first did soar 
 On fancy's pinions, far away 
 To realms of light, not known before ; 
 Conscious of its heavenly birth, 
 It would not, could not be confined — 
 Shall the narrow bounds of earth 
 Hold captive the immortal mind ! 
 No ; let it soar and leave behind 
 The narrow, grovelling souls of those 
 Whose every feeling unrefined, 
 But one end, one object knows, 
 Who toil and pant, and slave for gold, 
 Nor ever raise the 'raptured eye 
 With admiration to behold 
 The star-bespangled azure sky; 
 But stay, my muse ! why wanderest thou 
 From loftiest strains to themes so low, 
 Thou soaredst once, alas ! but now 
 Thy pinions cramp'd, thy flight is low. 
 8 
 
86 
 
 * # * 
 
 Oh, Albert ! speak, infuse the fire 
 
 Of thy bright genius into me, 
 
 Thy heavenly genius to inspire 
 
 My soul with thoughts resembling thee. 
 
 Albert ! bright angel, once appear — 
 
 Where finds thy happy spirit rest ? 
 
 Describe thy home, in what far sphere, 
 
 What star thou now inhabitest ! 
 
 Or if at large thy spirit roam 
 
 O'er countless worlds and boundless space. 
 
 Deign at my eager call to come, 
 
 Let me behold thy angel face — 
 
 Yes, thou art near, thy form I see, 
 
 I hear thy airy footstep's tread, 
 
 My guardian angel, Albert, be ! 
 
 O shelter this defenceless head ! 
 
 Shield me ! — but stay, thou callest me ; 
 
 Albert, take me to thy rest, 
 
 But one more bound my soul is free, 
 It goes to join the blest — 
 
 1 come, I come to thee. 
 
LINES 
 
 ON THE DEATH OF LORD BYRON. 
 
 He 's gone, the generous and the just, 
 The patriot, soldier, bold and brave ; 
 
 While Greece sits weeping o'er his dust, 
 For 'twas her rights, he died to save. 
 
 Yes, suffering Greece, he fought for thee ! 
 
 Fought from oppression's woes to save, 
 Fought to restore thy liberty, 
 
 And found an honorable grave. 
 
 He left his dear, his native land, 
 Quick at the voice of duty's call, 
 
 Prompt to obey her last command, 
 He gave his wealth, his life, his all. 
 
 Weep, Grecians ! let your hero's grave 
 Be with your plenteous tears bedew'd, 
 
 And may the tears that fall for him 
 Be those of warmest gratitude ! 
 
88 DEATH OF LORD BYRON. 
 
 And though his errors have been great, 
 We hope they all have been forgiven, 
 
 And that the last, brave act of his, 
 Found favor in the sight of Heaven. 
 
LA FAYETTE. 
 
 He left his bright and his sunny home 
 
 In a stranger's land to dwell, 
 He exchanged for the wilds where the Indians roam 
 
 Fair France that he loved so well ; 
 
 Ay, loved right well ! but he loved still more 
 
 To strike off the galling chain, 
 Which pressed on the captives' necks so sore 
 
 That o'er the extended main, 
 
 Their cry arose, till it met his ear 
 
 And soon was the sail unfurl'd, 
 And the blessing exchanged, and the parting tear, 
 
 And he came to this western world — 
 
 He came — and found that the weak and few 
 Were to cope with the many and strong, 
 
 But he felt not fear, for well he knew 
 No power will uphold the wrong — 
 8* 
 
90 LA FAYETTE. 
 
 And those few strong arms in their deeds of might 
 
 Might well the foe appal, 
 They were nerved in the holy cause of right 
 
 Were nerved to rescue all ; 
 
 All was at stake, and all was won, 
 
 And the calm and peaceful sky, 
 Look'd down when the work of death was done 
 
 On a land of Liberty. 
 
 And the lighten'd heart of the soldier felt 
 
 That indeed his chains were riven, 
 And the glad breeze bore, as the warriors knelt, 
 
 A nation's thanks to Heaven. 
 
 Then the stranger return'd from whence he came, 
 And the laurel that circled his brow 
 
 As it cluster'd around in his youth's bright fame, 
 Clusters as brightly now ; 
 
 And still is its perfume as richly shed, 
 
 And still it as fresh appears 
 Though the locks of that high and stately head 
 
 Are white with the frost of years. 
 
 And not e'en the shadows of death can blight, 
 Or shroud in their darkness his fame, 
 
 For his noble deeds like a halo of light 
 Shall ever encircle his name. 
 
LA FAYETTE. 
 
 He came again, when time had spread 
 
 From his cold palsying hand 
 The snows of years upon his head, 
 
 To this far distant land ; 
 
 The glory of his strength was gone, 
 His eye's bright light was dim, 
 
 His steps were faint, — his frame was worn, 
 Would they remember him ? 
 
 Would they in all their pride and power, 
 
 Remember him whose life, 
 In dark affliction's darkest hour, 
 
 Was peril'd in their strife ? 
 
 Yes, noble chief ! the weak and few, 
 
 Left on the barren strand, 
 Now swell' d to millions, welcome you 
 
 To your adopted land ; — 
 
92 LA FAYETTE. 
 
 Those veteran men have not forgot 
 When in their youthful mirth 
 
 Their children cluster'd round that spot 
 Of joy, the social hearth ; — 
 
 In telling how that hearth was won, 
 
 What blood its quiet cost, 
 What deeds of cruelty were done, 
 
 What noble lives were lost ; 
 
 Have not forgot thy glorious name, 
 And young, brave spirits beat, 
 
 To see the man of spotless fame ; 
 Their father's friend to greet ; 
 
 Then welcome, soldier ! to the land 
 
 Thy valor help'd to free, 
 Ten millions form the grateful band 
 Which longs to welcome thee. 
 
HANNAH'S PRESENTATION OF 
 SAMUEL AT THE TEMPLE. 
 
 She sat and watch'd him, as in rosy sleep 
 
 He lay upon her bosom ; — and it seem'd 
 
 To the fond mother's heart, that her fair boy, 
 
 Always so beautiful, was more so now ; 
 
 Now that the day had come, when they must part ; 
 
 Yes, part from him the object of her care, 
 
 Beside whose bed, the stars had found her watching 
 
 If but a murmur pass'd his infant lips, 
 
 Or his bright face was shadow'd as in pain, 
 
 With all a mother's fond solicitude, 
 
 Which never asks repose, — and wakeful eyes, 
 
 Which even after weeks of watchfulness 
 
 Feel that they need not sleep. — She 'd suffer'd all 
 
 A mother's heart can feel of grief and care, 
 
 And she had known, or rather now she knew, 
 
 A mother's perfect bliss ; for his young lips 
 
 Had just began to lisp his pure affection, 
 
 And in fond accents, artless and sincere, 
 
 To speak his childish love ; and Hannah felt 
 
94 PRESENTATION OF SAMUEL. 
 
 In each endearing, innocent caress, 
 A tenfold recompense for all her care. 
 
 I said he slept ; — and Hannah as she gazed 
 
 Scarce breathed lest he should waken, — for she felt 
 
 It was not wrong to give for the last time 
 
 A free indulgence to a mother's love ; 
 
 And if her heart amidst its holy feelings, 
 
 Did harbor aught idolatrous, blame not, 
 
 For the young object who had call'd it forth. 
 
 Had nought of earthly taint, but his bright soul 
 
 Was pure and sinless as it came from Heaven. 
 
 She 'd sometimes trembled lest the hour should come 
 For the fulfilment of her solemn vow, 
 And find her backward ; and she 'd often wept 
 And pray'd she might not sink, — nor impious give 
 As a free offering what her heart still clung to ; 
 For there had been weak moments, when she 'd felt 
 That she could not give up her only boy, 
 That he was all her hope ; that one bright chain 
 So link'd her very being to his presence 
 That when he left her, life and she must part. 
 
 But now the time had come, her feelings changed, 
 And as he slept within her circling arms 
 
PRESENTATION OF SAMUEL. 95 
 
 For the last time, she felt her heart grow strong 
 And swell with holy gratitude and joy, 
 That she could render to the Lord of Hosts 
 So beautiful an offering. 
 
 The moments pass'd and they were on their journey, 
 
 The mother and her boy. — His little hand 
 
 Was clasp'd in hers, as light he bounded on 
 
 In all the untiring buoyancy of youth, 
 
 And spoke his childish wonder and delight 
 
 At vast creation's glories, which were new 
 
 To his 'rapt eye ; — for never till this day 
 
 Had his young footsteps left his father's tent ; 
 
 And he was struck with rapture, which at first 
 
 Found vent in words ; — but as they journey'd on 
 
 And nature in her brightest loveliness 
 
 Burst on his view, his little heart was full, 
 
 Too full of deep delight for utterance 
 
 Save in the eloquent and tearful eye 
 
 Which sought his mother's face, to know if she 
 
 Participated in his perfect bliss. 
 
 Her eye was fix'd on heaven, the clear, blue heaven, 
 And, like that calm and lovely dome, her heart 
 Was passionless, its struggles all had ceased ; 
 She knew the gift she was to offer Heaven 
 
96 PRESENTATION OF SAMUEL. 
 
 Was worthy the receiver, — that his feet 
 Might tread the hallow'd temple of the Lord ; 
 And she felt grateful that in its pure courts 
 He should abide forever. 
 
 But now her thoughts descended, for her boy- 
 More closely press'd her hand, and she beheld 
 Near them the temple gates, and hurrying on, 
 She quick consign'd her tender, trembling boy, 
 To the kind watchings of the reverend priest 
 With many a blessing, many a last, long kiss ; — 
 Once more she press'd him to her throbbing breast, 
 Then broke from him, and as she lonely traced 
 Her homeward way, to heaven's Almighty King 
 Burst forth in songs of praise. 
 
ON THE DEATH OF W. F. P. 
 
 Farewell, instructer, guide and friend ! 
 
 A long, a mournful, last farewell, — 
 Thy soul, too pure for earth, has gone 
 
 With kindred saints, above to dwell. 
 
 We mourn the teacher ! Who shall now 
 Direct our studies, guide our youth, 
 
 Explore with us bright learning's page, 
 And teach our erring minds the truth ? 
 
 We mourn the friend, whose gentle voice 
 Taught us the paths of sin to shun, 
 
 To early make a virtuous choice 
 
 And the bright course of faith to run. 
 
 Spirits like thine were never made 
 In this low world to linger long, 
 
 They are but lent to earth awhile, 
 Then call'd to join the sainted throng. 
 9 
 
$3 ON THE DEATH OF W. F. P. 
 
 Then fare thee well ! our prayer shall be. 
 With all our errors here forgiven, 
 
 When God appoints, to follow thee 
 To thy high home above in Heaven. 
 
DEVOTION 
 
 When every earthly joy is fled, 
 When friends are dead and gone, 
 
 When parents in the grave are laid 
 And we are left alone : 
 
 When sickness comes with torturing pain, 
 And dire disease draws nigh, 
 
 To whom but to a gracious God, 
 For succor shall we fly ? 
 
 When on the stormy sea of life 
 
 Our little bark is toss'd, 
 With care and pain at every turn 
 
 Our devious path is cross'd ; 
 
 What can afford us strength of mind, 
 
 Give patience under pain, 
 What teach us how to be resign'd, 
 
 How sorrow to sustain ? 
 
100 DEVOTION. 
 
 It is Devotion's gentle glow, 
 
 That elevates the heart, 
 That bids us calmly sorrow bear, 
 
 And act the Christian part. 
 
 Devotion's lineaments we trace 
 
 In every Christian breast, 
 And where she makes her dwelling-place, 
 
 Is found sweet peace and rest ; 
 
 She gives a zest to all the good, 
 With which our life is blest, 
 
 Where she resides nought can occur 
 To make the mind distress'd ; 
 
 She 's with us all our journey through, 
 And when our death draws nigh, 
 
 She still remains our constant friend. 
 And points us to the sky. 
 
HYMN, 
 
 WRITTEN TO BE SUNG AT THE DEDICATION OF A CHURCH. 
 
 Almighty God ! who art alone 
 Of countless worlds creator, king, 
 
 Oh, wilt thou kindly deign to own 
 The humble offering which we bring. 
 
 Oh, may thy presence, Lord, be here. 
 
 In these blest courts forever dwell, 
 Here dry the penitential tear, 
 
 Here calm the bosom's sorrowing swell. 
 
 Here may affliction's children feel 
 A balm for bosoms bleeding, riven, 
 
 And here may sorrowing error kneel 
 In humble prayer, and be forgiven. 
 
 9* 
 
# # # # # 
 
 And when they had sung an hymn they went out into the Mount of Olives." 
 
 Matthew xxri. 30. 
 
 The hymn is sung, and while they stand 
 And join their voices in the strain, 
 
 They hardly think, that little band, 
 That they will ne'er unite again ; — 
 
 That ere the-moon, now high in heaven, 
 
 Gives place to morning's cheering breath, 
 They all shall be asunder riven, 
 And he, their master, led to death. 
 
 Those looks of hope and trust and love, 
 Those earnest voices loud declare 
 
 In all his wanderings they will rove, 
 In all his sufferings proudly share. 
 
 And yet within one little hour 
 
 Those coward boasters meanly fly, 
 
 And trembling, shrinking, basely cower 
 Before the ruffian traitor's eye. 
 
Oh, human friendship ! faint and dim 
 Thy brightest, noblest efforts shine ; 
 
 Then let us trusting turn to him, 
 Whose perfect friendship is divine. 
 
 11K 
 
ON A BROTHER'S DEATH IN A 
 DISTANT LAND. 
 
 He was alone in a foreign land, 
 
 When the light of being fled, 
 From his kindred far, a stranger band 
 
 Were gather'd round the dead. 
 
 No mother in that sickness sore 
 Was there to watch and pray — 
 
 No sister's form was bending o'er 
 The couch where low he lay. 
 
 Ah ! little thought they, as the light 
 
 Of bliss around them shone, 
 Death's chill, its withering, fatal blight, 
 
 Had touch'd their absent one ; 
 
 And little thought they, as the prayer 
 
 Went up to Heaven for him, 
 That he was crown'd with blessings where 
 
 Earth's brightest bliss looks dim. 
 
ON A BROTHER'S DEATH. 105 
 
 There 's consolation in the thought 
 
 He did not lonely die, — 
 That kind ones linger'd near and caught 
 
 His last expiring sigh ; 
 
 That kind ones gather'd mournful there 
 
 Around that bed of death, 
 Offer'd with him the fervent prayer, 
 
 And mark'd his latest breath. 
 
 Then why our anguish'd grief retain, 
 
 That thus life's ties were riven ? 
 We soon shall meet, and part again 
 
 No more, in yon high Heaven, 
 
TO O. B. E. 
 
 Hail, lovely boy ! thou com'st when flowers are springing, 
 When brightly over every shrub and tree 
 
 Nature her vernal robe of green is flinging, — 
 Welcome to that — and welcome too to thee. 
 
 Young bud of promise ! may no worm of sadness 
 Corrode thy bosom with its withering blight, 
 
 But springing up 'neath sun and dew in gladness, 
 In full perfection open to the light ; 
 
 And as borne up on the fresh breeze of morning, 
 The rich full perfumes of the flowers ascend, 
 
 So may thy spirit's freshness, in life's dawning, 
 
 By Heaven revived and nourish'd, heavenward tend. 
 
 Then when with all earth's flowers thou too art bending, 
 If to thy God, thy young day's pure were given, 
 
 Thy soul unblighted and unscathed ascending, 
 Shall bloom forever in the light of Heaven. 
 
LINES 
 
 ON THE DEATH OF A MOTHER AND HER INFANT, WHO WERE 
 LAID IN THE SAME COFFIN. 
 
 She hath gone, though the joys of life clung bright, 
 
 Most brightly around her heart, 
 She hath closed her eyes on this world's fair light, 
 
 She hath finish' d her earthly part. 
 
 She lies in her tranquil, dreamless rest, 
 
 And the infant so lately given, 
 Sleeps calmly too on its mother's breast — 
 
 They both shall awake in Heaven. 
 
 Sweet babe ! thy mother will leave thee not 
 
 In a world of doubts and fears, 
 Where sin might thy spirit's whiteness spot 
 
 And thine eye be dimm'd with tears ; 
 
 Where perhaps through a long and dreary way, 
 
 Thy feet might unguided roam ; — 
 She has gone to the realms of endless day, 
 
 And hath taken thee with her home. 
 
108 LINES. 
 
 Shall we selfishly mourn that the forms so beloved 
 To silence and darkness are given ? 
 
 These are but the caskets, the gems are removed 
 To blaze with pure lustre in Heaven. 
 
MORNING HYMN 
 
 FORA SUNDAY SCHOOL. 
 
 To thee, O God of life and light ! 
 This little band would now unite, 
 With cheerful, joyful voice to raise 
 Their morning song of prayer and praise 
 
 Of praise, that unto thee may rise 
 The pure heart's thanks, as sacrifice ; 
 Of prayer, that they may ever bring 
 Before thy throne this offering. 
 
 On these young minds in early youth 
 Oh ! pour thy sacred light of truth, 
 And deeply on each heart impress 
 An image of thy holiness. 
 
 That holy light through life's dark way, 
 Shall guide their feet with steady ray, 
 Shall keep their minds from error free 
 Where'er their onward path may be. 
 10 
 
HO MORNING HYMN. 
 
 \{ in that onward path distress 
 Should heavy, on their spirits press 7 
 If here the way should be uneven, 
 Oh ! grant that it may end in Heaven 
 
I SAMUEL, 16 
 
 In Bethlehem dwelt a poor and aged man, 
 
 Poor if the earth's low dross be counted wealth, 
 
 But passing rich in choicest gifts of Heaven, 
 
 The high and haughty might look down with scorn 
 
 On his low dwelling, as it stood retired, 
 
 And humbly spoke its inmate's lowliness ; 
 
 But little reck'd he of the world's contempt 
 
 As he look'd round, with all a father's pride, 
 
 And all a father's doating tenderness, 
 
 On the bright band of brothers, who were now, 
 
 In all their manly gracefulness and strength, 
 
 A forest of young trees, whose mighty arms 
 
 Stretch'd far and wide, to shield him from the blasts 
 
 And piercing winds of heaven ; — beneath whose shade 
 
 His aged head, bared to the scorching sun, 
 
 And blighting storms for many a circling year, 
 
 Might now repose in calm security. 
 
 His soul in its deep thankfulness, 
 
 Was full to overflowing ; — the rich stream, 
 
112 I SAMUEL, 16. 
 
 The incense of a pure and grateful heart, 
 Went up to God's high throne acceptably. 
 
 'Twas mid-day — and the patriarch Jesse sat 
 As he was wont, within his humble tent 
 Alone and silent, for his sons had gone 
 To labor in the field, and earn by toil 
 The pleasures of repose, when they should meet 
 Around their fire at evening's calm cool hour, 
 And join in those kind offices of love, 
 And fond attentions, which the aged need ; 
 And which are hallow'd and refined, when made 
 By children unto parents. 
 
 In these hours 
 His soul's full tide pour'd out itself in prayer, 
 For when his boys were near him, his fond eye 
 Felt it must rest on them ; and his w T arm heart 
 Clung closely to them, and the patriarch knew 
 That adoration and the voice of prayer, 
 When ofTer'd to the high and holy One 
 Must be estranged from aught that breathes of eartl 
 
 The covering of the tent is slowly raised, 
 And the dim eye of Jesse knew the form. 
 The venerable form that enter'd there 
 To be the aged Samuel's ; the man, 
 The favor'd prophet of the most high God ; 
 
1 SAMUEL, 16. 113 
 
 He hastes to bid him welcome to his tent, 
 
 But as his ear receives the import high 
 
 Of the old prophet's message, 
 
 From the Eternal One, — to him whose bliss 
 
 Ere this had been so perfect, that he felt his heart 
 
 Was almost bursting, with his height of joy. 
 
 The brothers came ; — as one by one, they pass'd 
 And bow'd in manly dignity to crave 
 The blessing of their guest, his gentle eye 
 Linger'd on each, in wonder to behold 
 So many noble youths ; until at last 
 The youngest of the band came smiling in. 
 He left his sheep in haste, and hurried home 
 To see the venerable man whose fame 
 Had reach'd far Bethlehem, and now he stood 
 Before him, and flung back the glossy locks 
 Which cluster'd round his high and open brow, 
 Then knelt in reverence to receive the boon, 
 The only boon he ask'd — the good man's blessing, 
 Samuel bless'd him, and he pour'd the oil 
 Upon his head ; — that fair young head bow'd low 
 As it received the unction, and his heart, 
 His young pure heart, never more deeply felt 
 Its nothingness, than when the prophet's hand 
 Raised him up kindly, and he stood erect 
 In his majestic gracefulness — a King, 
 10* 
 
THE WIDOW'S SON RESTORED 
 
 Why with such slow and measured tread, 
 
 Do these their pathway trace ? 
 What hear they in their arms ? — The dead. 
 
 To his last resting-place. 
 
 An aged female, wasted, wan, 
 
 Totters beside the bier ; 
 The arm she 'd loved to lean upon, 
 Cannot support her here. 
 
 That arm lies stiffen'd by his side, 
 
 As in his silence deep 
 He who was all her joy, her pride, 
 
 Lies in his breathless sleep. 
 
 He was her dear, her only son, 
 
 Her widow'd heart's sole stay, 
 All, all, save him had long since gone, 
 
 Now he is calPd away. 
 
THE WIDOW'S SON RESTORED. 1J5 
 
 With him, all earthly hope decays, 
 
 The last fond tie is riven, 
 And earnestly and long she prays, 
 
 To meet her child in Heaven. 
 
 But who can speak her blessed lot 
 
 When on her ears are pour'd 
 The Saviour's gentle words " weep not, 
 
 Your son shall be restored." 
 
 at that voice the warm blood flows 
 Beneath her warm caress, 
 And all the widow'd mother's woes 
 Are lost in blessedness. 
 
HYMN, 
 
 WRITTEN TO BE SUNG BY THE CHILDREN OP A SUNDAY SCHOOL 
 
 To thee, O God of life and light ! 
 
 This little band would now unite, 
 
 With cheerful, joyful voice to raise 
 
 Their morning hymn of prayer and praise : 
 
 Of praise that unto thee may rise 
 The pure heart's thanks, as sacrifice ; 
 Of prayer, that they may ever bring 
 Before thy throne this offering. 
 
 Here may each young and untried heart 
 Be fitted to bear well its part ; 
 Here may a light be shed whose ray 
 Shall guide them on their future way. 
 
 Religion's light ! — whose beams shall shine 
 Brightly when clouds of grief combine, 
 Shall keep them from pollution free, 
 Where'er their onward path may be. 
 
HYMN. 117 
 
 And when together here no more 
 Their hymn of grateful praise they pour, 
 Still may their spirits oft ascend, 
 And at thy throne in worship blend. 
 
THE SOUL TRIUMPHANT 
 
 Stars ! that roll in a cloudless sky 
 
 Shedding down on this dark world light ; 
 
 Have ye not a sweet home in that blue dome on high, 
 Where ye shine so fair and bright ? 
 
 Bird ! that canst look on the sun's bright rays 
 
 As towards him you soar unconfined ; 
 Do you not exult when our farthest gaze 
 
 You leave far, far behind? 
 
 Ocean ! does not thy bosom sw T ell 
 
 With pride, as thou roll'st in thy might. 
 
 To see how weak man will trembling dwell 
 On thy rage with wild affright ? 
 
 Soul ! that art bound by earthly ties 
 
 So strong to an earthly clod, 
 Dost thou pine to burst thy bonds, and rise 
 
 To thy home, thy Heaven, thy God ? 
 
THE SOUL TRIUMPHANT. 119 
 
 Dost thou weep to change with the stars thy fate ; 
 
 With the bird of day ? with the sea ? 
 Dost thou envy those, their peaceful estate, 
 
 Or these so unshackled, so free ? 
 
 Stars ! but a little time ye shine ! 
 
 But a little longer we gaze ; 
 Soon shall a light supreme, divine, 
 
 Eclipse your feebler blaze. 
 
 Bird ! thou may'st stretch thy wing and soar 
 
 Near the sun, and thy sight fail never, 
 But soon will your highest flight be o'er 
 
 And you sink to the earth forever. 
 
 Ocean ! roll on in thy might, and thy power, 
 
 In thy anger with terror so fraught ; 
 Soon thy proud bosom rising with triumph no more 3 
 
 You will shrink to what once thou wast, — nought- 
 Soul ! then will the hour of thy triumph be ; 
 
 Far beyond these fair orbs so bright, 
 Eternally happy, eternally free, 
 
 Thou shalt dwell in pure regions of light. 
 
120 THE SOUL TRIUMPHANT. 
 
 Yes, the soul is divine ! and though now so dark 
 Its abode, — soon its bonds will be riven, 
 
 And gloriously rising, the glorious spark, 
 Shall blaze in full lustre in Heaven. 
 
THOUGHTS IN PROSPECT OF DEATH 
 
 Oh ! can it be, when youth no longer flings 
 O'er all things, bright and sunny hues of bliss, 
 That the weak heart more closely, strongly clings, 
 In its blind fondness, to a world like this ; 
 When all the high and bright imaginings 
 Which made our childhood's fairy bliss, have flown, 
 And left instead the sober light age brings, 
 When all our feelings take a different tone, 
 And we are sad, and helpless, and alone ? 
 
 We must be lone ! for all the friends w r e loved 
 Cannot through lengthen'd life with us remain, 
 Some by the hand of death may be removed, 
 Some, in a distant land, may not retain 
 A memory of us long : — The precious chain, 
 Which bound together all we prized, must break, 
 The sever'd links may not unite again ; 
 Then what is lengthen'd life but lengthen'd pain ? 
 11 
 
122 THOUGHTS IN PROSPECT OF DEATH. 
 
 Strange, age should cling to earth ! — methinks that I 
 The near approach of death with joy should know, 
 That each fond hope destroy 'd, would break a tie 
 Which bound me to this dwelling place below ; 
 That when life's ebbing tide should feebly flow, 
 And each entwining cord of earth be riven, 
 My sun's declining rays would brightly glow, 
 Not with the lustre of aught earthly given, 
 But with the glorious beams of dawning Heaven. 
 
ON THE DEATH OF G . F . W . 
 
 He has sunk into rest, and is peacefully sleeping 
 
 That deep, happy sleep, which no anguish can break, 
 
 Whilst round the loved form happy spirits are keeping 
 Their vigils unwearied till it shall awake. 
 
 Then resign him, fond parents, to earth's peaceful pillow. 
 
 He will sweetly repose on her untroubled breast ; 
 To one lately toss'd on adversity's billow, 
 
 How grateful must be that calm haven of rest ! 
 
 Oh ! think not the clods of the valley will sever 
 From you the loved object of tenderest care ; 
 
 Or that long ling'ring look is the last one that ever 
 You shall cast on that cold face, still beauteously fair. 
 
 The form is in death ; but the unsullied spirit 
 
 When mortality's ties which confin'd it were riven, 
 
 All joyful, enfranchised arose to inherit, 
 
 Its promised abode, "the kingdom of Heaven." 
 
124 ON THE DEATH OF G. F. W. 
 
 Then let not thought linger around the cold tomb, 
 
 The child you lament reposes not there : 
 But, hark ! what low murmuring sound through the gloom 
 
 Comes floating along, on the pinions of air ? 
 
 'Tis the voice of your infant, which gently comes stealing 
 Like music's soft breath to your listening ear ; 
 
 Its spirit's pure bliss in sweet accents revealing, 
 Unknowing to sorrow, uncheck'd by a tear. 
 
 Around you an instant my spirit would hover 
 Ere it goes to the beautiful home of the blest, 
 
 To bid you not mourn that my agony 's over, 
 Exchanged for eternal, immutable rest. 
 
 My father ! regret not that I should abide 
 
 So short space on earth ; — that life's ties were riven 
 
 Ere thy precepts should lead me, thy hand gently guide 
 My feet in the path which would lead me to Heaven. 
 
 My mother ! although I was summon'd away 
 Ere thy watchful attentions, thy vigilant love, 
 
 A future devotion of life could repay, 
 
 They ascended, like smoke of sweet incense, above* 
 
ON THE DEATH OF G. F. W. 125 
 
 You did your whole duty to him who was given, 
 While he sojourn'd on earth, to your guardian care, 
 
 Thy trust, thus fulfill'd, is recorded in heaven, 
 And now, and forever, will speak for thee there. 
 
 Farewell for a season, and when your thoughts wander 
 To your infant departed, as often they will, 
 
 On his early remove do not mournfully ponder, 
 But think that in spirit he 's near to you still. 
 
 11* 
 
ON THE DEATH OF T.B.W. 
 
 Thou hast gone from us, bright one, in life's early morn ! 
 
 From thy mother's fond arms thou wert suddenly torn ; 
 
 Oh ! cold on her heart fell a shuddering chill, 
 
 When thine, in its joyous pulsations, was still ; 
 
 For around thee, thou dear one, were tenderly wove 
 
 The strong holy ties^of a mother's pure love ; 
 
 Love received with existence, drawn in with life's breath, 
 
 And unquench'd in the dark, bitter waters of death. 
 
 Thou hast gone, lovely boy ! ere thy young spirit's light 
 
 Was clouded by grief, ere the withering blight 
 
 Of sin, and of shame, shed its gloom on thy brow 
 
 Which reposes in innocent loveliness now ; 
 
 Ere the passions of earth found a home in thy breast, 
 
 Thou hast sunk in thy peacefulness sweetly to rest ; 
 
 Far better thus early to sink to repose, 
 
 Than live to encounter this world's chilling woes ! 
 
ON THE DEATH OF T. B. W . 127 
 
 Then why do we sorrow ? Oh why should the tear, 
 
 Fall in anguish of spirit on infancy's bier ? 
 
 Why mourn the young being thus early made blest, 
 
 Released from all suffering, so soon called to rest ? 
 
 Fond mother ! when raised from the heart-rending stroke, 
 
 Which the frail " silver cord " of your life almost broke, 
 
 Rejoice that to your happy lot it was given. 
 
 To add one seraph more to the bright band in Heaven. 
 
THERE IS A GOD.' 
 
 How glorious on this summer even, 
 Appear those shining orbs on high ! 
 
 How like a bright and happy heaven, 
 Appears yon tranquil azure sky ! 
 
 Thou glorious, all-existing God, 
 Art the creator of the whole ! 
 
 Of all the worlds dispersed abroad, 
 Thou art the centre and the soul ! 
 
 O'er all thy works, thy wonders shine ! 
 
 O'er all those glorious hosts, we see 
 The traces of a hand divin, 
 
 The light that emanates from thee ! 
 
 From thee ! to whom the utmost stretch 
 
 Of human thought can never reach ! 
 And shall the daring, impious wretch, 
 Thy love arraign, thy power impeach ? 
 
"THERE IS A GOD." 129 
 
 There is a^God ! each voice that breaks 
 From cliff, or cloud, in flood or flame, 
 
 Each gentle breeze, each blossom speaks, — 
 And all this truth to man proclaim. 
 
 But chief above the rest, my soul, 
 
 That spark divine, sent from on high, 
 Feels 't is not under earth's control — 
 Feels that it was not made to die. 
 
THE HINDOO WIDOW. 
 
 She stood up calmly — for to die 
 
 Was nought, since death had riven 
 The strongest and the holiest tie, 
 
 Which made the earth seem heaven ; 
 Of nature's shuddering not a trace 
 
 Broke the mild light that shone 
 From her serene, untroubled face, 
 
 And told of victory won. 
 
 On the terrific pile of death 
 
 She fixed her fearless eye ; 
 What reck'd she, if her fleeting breath 
 
 Expired in agony? 
 Why should she shrink from suffering, 
 
 Her earthly joy is gone, 
 And all her fond affections cling 
 
 Round her departed one ? 
 
THE HINDOO WIDOW. 
 
 She'd loved and cberish'd him in life, 
 
 She 'd eased his parting breath, 
 Had soothed him in his last sad strife, 
 
 When life contends with death ; 
 And now, with heart and courage high 
 
 She'd come, prepared to prove 
 By life resign'd in agony, 
 
 Her constancy and love. 
 
 Oh woman 1 though the pitying tear 
 
 At thy sad fate must fall, 
 When thou art darkly bound as here, 
 
 Stern superstition's thrall ! 
 Yet, thy devotedness of heart, 
 
 Thy pure, heroic love, 
 Which such high courage can impart, 
 
 Courage all feel above ; 
 
 That love is still the same, where'er 
 
 Thy gentle sex is found — 
 Superior to all selfish fear, 
 
 Though dangers gather round ; 
 That love which nothing can estrange ; 
 
 Where'er thy lot is cast, 
 Not subject to decay or change, 
 
 Is steadfast to the last. 
 
 131 
 
LIFE AND DEATH 
 
 There is a mournful thought comes o'er the soul. 
 
 When what we once consider'd as a dream. 
 
 In the light buoyancy of youthful hearts, 
 
 Which did not yet conceive there could exist 
 
 Aught in this lovely world of wretchedness, 
 
 Is now presented to the sober'd mind 
 
 In all its sad realities, too true ; 
 
 We find, alas, our hopes of bliss a dream i — 
 
 A sad, delusive dream. If we have placed, 
 
 Too fondly placed them upon aught below ; 
 
 And all things tell to our dejected hearts 
 
 That man was made to mourn ; we weep, that friends 
 
 Who once sprang round our feet like beauteous flowers. 
 
 Have proved as short lived, and as fragile too ; 
 
 And yet, why should we ? — they will live again, 
 
 And in the genial light of other skies 
 
 Will flourish still in beautiful perfection ; 
 
 And when our clearest friends drop one by one 
 
 Into the grave, — till all have disappear'd, 
 
LIFE AND DEATH. 133 
 
 And the sad sense of utter loneliness 
 Is creeping o'er the spirit, and we feel 
 That each cold bolt of death that laid them low, 
 Hath struck our bosoms too ; — we should remember, 
 Though the grim tyrant holds in icy bonds 
 The body formed of perishable earth, 
 He has no power o'er the immortal part, 
 He cannot touch the soul, nor break one link 
 Of our affection's chain, — the golden chain, 
 Which binds it still to earth, though now in Heaven. 
 Oh, no ! we cannot think the immortal soul, 
 When 'tis recalled to Him from whom it came, 
 By whom 'twas sent to dwell on earth, and form 
 Attachments pure, with kindred, sister souls, 
 And worship him, by blessing one another ; 
 We cannot think that when 't is called to Heaven, 
 The friendships formed on earth must be dissolved, 
 And the fond ties of purest sympathies, 
 Which bound it to its earliest home below, 
 Must be at once snapp'd suddenly asunder ; 
 Oh, let us rather think, that though our friend 
 In higher thoughts and things is now engaged 
 Than our imaginations can conceive, 
 Placed even by the throne itself of God ; 
 Oh, let us think, that still he does retain 
 Friendship for us, though in this vale of tears, 
 12 
 
134 LIFE AND DEATH. 
 
 Protects us with a guardian angel's care 
 Through all our life, and on the bed of death 
 Will hover near, and when the summons comes, 
 Which shall dissolve earth's bonds, and set us free, 
 Will bear us on his azure wings to Heaven. 
 
THE HAPPY CHANGE 
 
 When that young fond heart is breaking 
 
 With a weight of grief and wo, 
 When the weary eye is taking 
 
 Leave of all it loved below ; 
 Do not look with pity, stranger, 
 
 Do not weep that one so fair 
 Leaves a world of doubt and danger, 
 
 Leaves a world of grief and care. 
 
 All her hopes are turn'd to sadness, 
 
 And the bosom's joyous thrill, 
 Which answer'd once to notes of gladness. 
 
 Now lies coldly, deadly still ; 
 Dead to aught of earthly feeling, 
 
 But the raised and raptured eye 
 Tells of sacred thought, revealing 
 
 To her soul, that Heaven is nigh ; 
 
136 THE HAPPY CHANGE. 
 
 Heaven is nigh, and sweet communion 
 
 Her enfranchised soul shall know, 
 When she 's joined in blest re- union 
 
 With the friends she loved below ; 
 Then mourn not thou ; that broken spirit, 
 
 When its ties to earth are riven, 
 Soars all joyful to inherit 
 
 The dories of its native Heaven, 
 
THE GRAVE 
 
 When this fond heart's faint throbs have ceased, 
 
 Its earthly ties all riven, 
 And the glad soul, at length released, 
 
 Hath sought its home in Heaven — 
 
 Oh ! lay me not within the tomb, 
 
 The tomb so damp and dark, 
 Too much of dread, and cold, and gloom, 
 
 Its sad recesses mark. 
 
 I would not have my sleeping dust 
 
 Memento sole revive, 
 To friends forgetful and unjust 
 
 The thought I once did live ; 
 
 I would repose on earth's warm breast ; 
 
 Then peaceful and serene, 
 The clods should on my cold form rest, 
 
 The light clods, fresh and green : 
 
138 THE GRAVE. 
 
 While not a rising stone should tell 
 My humble grave was nigh ; 
 
 If then the rising bosom swell, 
 The tear dim friendship's eye ; 
 
 I would rejoice, Oh, could I not ! 
 
 For that fond pledge so given, 
 That T was not, when gone, forgot, 
 
 And bless them, though in Heaven. 
 
 C 32 89 '* 
 

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