Class y^M 
 Book , f1 i ? 2. 
 
 Copyright If. 
 
 COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 
 
 <^9 
 
SECULAR AND RELIGIOUS WORKS 
 
 OF 
 
 PENINA MOISE, 
 
 WITH BRIEF SKETCH OF HER LIFE. 
 
 COMPILED AND PUBLISHED 
 
 BY 
 
 Charleston Section, CouncilofJewishWomen. 
 
 CHARLESTON, S. C : 
 Nicholas G. Duffy, Printer. 
 1911. 
 

 Copyright, 1911, 
 
 BY 
 
 Charleston Section, Council op Jewish Women 
 
 
 ©CI.A295203 
 
TO 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 This little volume is compiled by the undersigned members of the 
 Charleston Section, of the Council of Jewish Women, who were per- 
 sonally acquainted with the beloved and revered authoress, either as 
 relatives, pupils, or children of dear friends. It has been a work of 
 love, and though containing but few of her prose writings, and not 
 all of her poems, it is as complete as was possible, considering lapse 
 of time, condition of manuscripts, and the difficulty of thorough 
 research. They were composed between 1820 and 1880 and are pub- 
 lished in the order in which they were written, or as nearly so as can 
 be determined. Much assistance has been found through the old 
 files of The Charleston Courier . The publication has been a volun- 
 tary tribute from the Section to one of the three Jewish women whose 
 Hves and works fitted them for positions of distinction in the world. 
 Rebecca Gratz, Emma Lazarus and Penina Moise represent much in 
 Jewish womanhood. The two first had beauty, wealth and social 
 prestige; the last had the social position by birth but owing to poverty 
 from childhood, and ill health, followed by years of blindness, she 
 lived the life of a martyr. Not withstanding this, she became through 
 her character and mind, the nucleus of a coterie of refined and cul- 
 tivated people scarcely credible under the circumstances. She was 
 a poetess of the heart and soul. No claim is laid that the literature 
 of the world will be augmented by this little book. Somewhere 
 among her poems, will be found something to fit almost any human 
 emotion. Nowhere will be found anything but Faith, Submission, 
 Affection, Cheerfulness and a passionate love for nature and her 
 works. Can any more be asked ? Penina Moise left behind her, the 
 incense of a purely religious life. This volume is a tribute to her 
 memory. 
 
 Rebecca O . Cohen, 
 
 BlyUHMA C. IvOEB, 
 
 Hortense S. Cohen, 
 Beixe E . Biank, 
 Sarah B. Visanska, 
 Eleanor L. Hai^sey. 
 
INDEX TO POEMS. 
 
 Page 
 
 1. To Persecuted Foreigners (23 years old) 1820 177 
 
 2. The Apple ..178 
 
 3. The Gift of the Snowdrop 1 .180 
 
 4. On Reading "The Motherless " 181 
 
 5. Enigma 183 
 
 6. Replies to Some of Montgomery's Poetic Questions 183 
 
 7. The Comet Again 185 
 
 8. The Widow's Petition 187 
 
 9. Ireland . 188 
 
 10. Enigma 190 
 
 11. Camille Demouslins to His Wife 191 
 
 12. The Prodigal Son 192 
 
 13. Cain 193 
 
 14. The Loss of the Ship Boston 195 
 
 15. The Murder of Col. Hayne 196 
 
 16. Joseph's Dream 197 
 
 17. Bonaparte and the Sentinel 198 
 
 18. A Freak of Fancy 199 
 
 19. The Bird of Paradise 201 
 
 20. A Drop of Water 202 
 
 21. The Rival Senses 203 
 
 22. The Meteor and the Flying Fish . 204 
 
 23. Love's Martyr 205 
 
 24. Ivove and Law 207 
 
 25. To Sadness 208 
 
 26. On the Death of Mrs. R. Cohen 209 
 
 27 . The Prize 210 
 
 28. Epigram 211 
 
 29. Rejection of the "Jew Bill" in the House of Lords, England 212 
 
 30. Lament of the Irish Mother 213 
 
 31. The Peri's Creed 214 
 
 32. The Muse's Vindication of Cards 215 
 
 33. The Newspaper 218 
 
 34. Bonaparte to Josephine from St. Helena .219 
 
 35. Balloon Ascension 220 
 
 36. St. Philip's Prayer and Soliloquy 222 
 
 37. Madame Malibran 223 
 
 38. The Flower Auction 224 
 
 39. The Caledonian Muse to the 5th Month 226 
 
 40. The Proffered Rose 227 
 
Index to Poems. 
 
 Page 
 
 41. Time and Ton 228 
 
 42. The Snowdrop 231 
 
 43. The Duke's Solace 231 
 
 44. The Chimney Sweeper's Complaint 233 
 
 45. Bring Dowers 234 
 
 46. Light and Thought 235 
 
 47. Reflections on Death of an Infant 238 
 
 48. Great Failure in Central Greece 240 
 
 49. Note from a Bankrupt Minstrel 241 
 
 50. L'Aime Inconnue 243 
 
 51 . Lines on a Broken Tea Cup 244 
 
 52. Cupid and Bacchus 246 
 
 53. A Poetic Homily on the Late Calamity 248 
 
 54. After a Walk over the Ruins 249 
 
 55. Reply to a Kind Invitation 250 
 
 56. The Voluntary Prisoner 251 
 
 57. The Pulaski 253 
 
 58. The Moral Bridge of Sighs 254 
 
 59. LeFebvre and Bonaparte 256 
 
 60. The Lost Treasure 257 
 
 61. Fancy and Feeling 260 
 
 62. Singular Disputes 260 
 
 63. Natural and Artificial Flowers 261 
 
 64. Moral Vegetation 263 
 
 65. Silver Forks and Steel Knives - 266 
 
 66. Bonaparte and Baron de Menneval 267 
 
 67. On Beholding the New Synagogue 269 
 
 68. Persecution of the Jews at Damascus 270 
 
 69. A Funeral Chant, David Arari 272 
 
 70. The Jessamine and the Evening Star 273 
 
 71. ' 'Know Before Whom Thou Standest' ' 275 
 
 72. Address to the Comet, 1843 277 
 
 73. Hope, Laughter and Sleep 278 
 
 74. Etiquette 280 
 
 75. Madame L'Etiquette 281 
 
 76. Workhouse Ellen 282 
 
 77. Reflections of a Belle 284 
 
 78. The Penitential Days 285 
 
 79. Follow My Plume. 287 
 
 80. On Introduction of Gas Light in Charleston 289 
 
 81. Invocation to Frost 289 
 
 82. Imaginary Conversation Among the Flowers 291 
 
 83. Date of My Sister's Birth and My Brother's Death 293 
 
 84. Meditation on Death on a Brother 294 
 
 85. Lines on the Rose of Sharon 295 
 
Index to Poems. 
 
 Page 
 
 86. Sudden Death of a Niece 297 
 
 87. Alphabet of Authors 299 
 
 88. Lines to a Sister of Charity 301 
 
 89. Song of the Mosquito 302 
 
 90. A Peep Into a School Room 303 
 
 91. A Mother's Grief 304 
 
 92. Frozen Music 306 
 
 93. To My Dear Niece J. E. Iv., on her Birthday 308 
 
 94. Geographical Alphabet 310 
 
 95. The Minstrel's Prophecy 310 
 
 96. AThought 312 
 
 97. A Farewell Message to All, in 83d year, 1879 312 
 
LIFE OF PENINA MOISE. 
 
 Penina Moise was the daughter of Abram Moise, a native 
 of Alsace on the Rhine and his wife Sarah, a resident of 
 the Island of St. Eustace, West Indies, and born in the 
 French colony. Mr. Moise was a simple, honest and un- 
 worldy man, of industrious habits and possessing strict 
 integrity of character. His wife was a woman of good 
 mind, and of handsome personal appearance. They were 
 highly respected in their community and had amassed 
 great wealth when in 1791 the insurrection of St. Domingo 
 occurred. The ire of the natives being especially directed 
 to this prosperous colony, they suffered in proportion, 
 They were aroused in the dead of night and told of their 
 danger by a faithful servant, (who, afterwards, under the 
 title of Gen. Moise,) took a conspicuous part in the insur- 
 rection of the slaves. After using every effort they suc- 
 ceeded in getting passage on a vessel about to sail for Amer- 
 ica. They, with their four little sons, escaped with only 
 the clothing they wore and a small trunk of valuables. 
 The boat arrived safely at Charleston, and there they had 
 to begin life over again, learning the manners, customs and 
 language of their new home. Three more sons were born 
 to them and two daughters, the youngest of whom was 
 Penina, born April 23, 1797. At the age of twelve her 
 father died and this was the first of a series of tragedies 
 which followed one upon the other until her death, seventy- 
 one years later. 
 
 She was compelled to leave school, as the children had 
 each to do their share towards the support of the large 
 family, but so fond was Penina of study that as soon as 
 domestic duties were over she could be found with book 
 and pencil hidden away in some quiet corner, or at night, 
 fearful of interruptions, she would steal away to the garret 
 and read by the light of the moon. She was always near- 
 sighted, but possessed powerful vision and worked exquis- 
 
 i. 
 
IylFB OF PKNINA Moi.SE. 
 
 itely in all the fashionable laces and embroideries of the 
 day, Doubtless such practices, more than any other, 
 injured and finalh' destroyed her sight. Her only sister, 
 Rachel, married at an early age, but although Penina had 
 many eligible offers she rejected many an ardent suitor to 
 keep unfettered the faith of her fathers, in which she lived 
 and died. 
 
 At an early age her family letters showed so much talent 
 as a writer that their regular purchase by her favorite 
 brother encouraged her to show her attempts at poetry. 
 
 In 1833 she was induced to publish a volume of her 
 poems entitled, "Fancy's Sketch Book," which she dedi- 
 cated to her sister. 
 
 Thereafter she wrote for newspapers and periodicals in 
 Washington, Boston, New York and New Orleans. 
 
 Her sister's early marriage left her the only companion 
 of her mother who about this time, 1838, became paralyzed 
 and for two years was a helpless invalid, during which 
 time Penina nursed her with untiring devotion, patiently 
 bearing the exactions of this naturally irritable disposition, 
 and standing without complaint, day and night, the close 
 confinement of a sick room. 
 
 In 1838 a very destructive fire occurred in Charleston, 
 demolishing the Synagogue, with hundreds of other build- 
 ings. A very fine production from her pen appeared in 
 The Courier, and was copied in other papers, entitled 
 "While I Mused the Fire Burned, then Spake I With My 
 Tongue." Three years later in 1841 the Synagogue was 
 rebuilt in Hasell Street, where it now stands. 
 
 She also composed the ode, which, set to appropriate 
 music, and sung at the consecration service, made a beau- 
 tiful offering at the throne of Almighty God. 
 
 The organ and choir were introduced at this time into the 
 Synagogue, and she began the composition of a volume of 
 hymns for the use of the congregation. This book went 
 through four editions, and many of her hymns have been 
 
 ii. 
 
L,ife of Pknina MoisE. 
 
 incorporated into other collections, and, as a rule, without 
 acknowledgment. Charlotte Adams characterized her 
 hymns well when she said of them, "They are beautiful 
 and stately hymns, reminding- one in their rhythmic march 
 of the religious verse that Cowper, Pope, Addison, and 
 other eighteenth century poets bequeathed to the world." 
 Several of her best poems were devoted to the emancipation 
 of her people. 
 
 Modest to an unfortunate degree, she shrank from writ- 
 ing or publishing anything which at that time was condemned 
 as the utterance of "Woman's Rights," but many wise and 
 noble acts were performed by her, known only to a favored 
 few. 
 
 In 1854 the scourge of yellow fever came upon her loved 
 city and like a second Florence Nightingale she nursed 
 victim after victim without regard to sect or station. She 
 beguiled the hours of the convalescent with song and poem, 
 and mingled her prayers with the ill and dying. The gen- 
 eral craving was for cold weather to put an end to the de- 
 stroying plague; then it was that she penned her "invoca- 
 tion to Frost." 
 
 She looked with coldness on nothing that God had made — 
 flowers were to her, special messengers from the Great Be- 
 stower of Beauty. The outer world spoke to her soul, whis- 
 pering of eternal love and mercy, and her feeling of near- 
 ness to God and His creatures gave her writings their emi- 
 nently religious tone. Her sense of humor was of the 
 keenest type, and its range extended from lightest social 
 banter to the repartee, pun and brilliant epigram which 
 made her presence a light wherever she was — yet in all her 
 writings there was no bitterness, nor in any dash of humor 
 a jibe to rankle in the heart of a friend. Her affections 
 were deep and lasting, and her idea of friendship was the 
 highest type. She said: "To be capable of friendship in 
 its most exalted sense is with me the test of Nature's true 
 nobility." 
 
 in. 
 
Lifk of Pknina Moise. 
 
 In 1838 a Jewish Sunday School was founded by Miss 
 Sallie Lopez, (only the second in America,) and Miss 
 Penina succeeded Miss Lopez as the superintendent of this 
 school. She wrote hymns, recitations and poems for its use. 
 
 Her sister, Rachel, from whom she has been separated 
 for thirty years, now a widow, returned with her only daugh- 
 ter, Jacqueline, and "the trio," as the two sisters and niece 
 were called, continued to live in Charleston, until the civil 
 war, when they were obliged to move to a place of safety. 
 a day's journey from the city. Her sight had been failing 
 for years, but at this time it became so much worse she was 
 entirely dependent upon others to transcribe her thoughts. 
 Sometimes days would elapse before she could have her 
 writing done, but so wonderful was her memory that she 
 would after even a week, call out stanza after stanza as cor- 
 rectly as if reading them aloud. Even to the day of her 
 death a reference to her literary authority was undisputed. 
 
 As refugees to Sumter, and quite poor, they opened a 
 little school in the two bed rooms occupied by "The Trio." 
 An old wardrobe and a piece of chalk did duty as a black- 
 board and many boys and girls there taught are to-day cul- 
 tured men and women of the world. To the dear blind 
 aunt was consigned the care of those branches which were 
 in a measure oral— elocution, reading and for a long time 
 oral spelling. This last and similar impromptu instruction 
 found the little pupils seated on the floor about her knees, 
 holding her hand or leaning over the back of her chair, 
 drinking in every word and sorry when the allotted time 
 was over. Not one of these children would have even 
 thought of deceiving, or, as school children call it "cheat- 
 ing," Miss Penina. To them her sightless eyes were more 
 to be respected than had they been in perfect strength. In 
 elocution she even taught the gestures and many a prize has 
 been won by her pupils in the yearly Sunday School exer- 
 cises held in the synagogue. 
 
 Before her sight failed completely she suffered from severe 
 
 IV. 
 
l,wn of Penina Moisk. 
 
 attacks of neuralgia, which made her days and nights 
 insufferable, yet she humorously defines her torture thus : 
 "Neuralgia, a fugitive from purgatory, who, having served 
 as an apprentice in Lucifer's penal laboratory, acquired 
 such proficiency in the art of torturing that, having excited 
 the jealousy of her master, quitted the Satanic institute, 
 and established a patent rack and screw factory, distancing 
 all nerve-racking competitors — not excepting the familiars 
 of the Inquisition." 
 
 After the war, when they returned to Charleston , she, I 
 think, never again left the house, and was even a greater 
 martyr to neuralgia. She would when able descend to the 
 sitting room in the afternoons, and this she would always 
 insist on doing alone. 
 
 Again they had to battle with hardships, and decided to 
 continue teaching. They opened a school in their humble 
 home to which flocked the children of those who saw the ad- 
 vantage to be gained from such teachers as the now famous 
 "Trio." 
 
 The house is on Coming street, three doors from Beau- 
 fain, on the left-hand side, now a dilapidated shanty, and 
 in those days diagonally across was Madame Gerard's 
 fashionable finishing school for young ladies. The "Trio' ' 
 seldom carried their girls beyond 15 years of age, but these 
 girls were able to enter the highest classes in large semi- 
 naries so well had they been taught. Let us in memory 
 go in the little sitting room. Seated in the corner, in the 
 shadow, in a high backed rocking chair is an old lady, 
 whose head and face swathed even in summer in soft 
 woolen shawls, with her sensitive eyes shielded by blu e 
 glasses, eye shades or baize curtains. This is "Miss 
 Penina," as she was called by all but relatives. It was 
 customary as one entered to greet her at once, so as not to 
 startle her. "Good afternoon, Miss Penina," was almost 
 invariably answered by the comer's name in greeting. She 
 soon became familiar with a voice and seldom had to ask 
 
Life of Pfnina Moisk. 
 
 a name. She loved children, romance, flowers, poetry, 
 music and took pleasure in hearing all the news. Sitting 
 at the piano she would often say, "Put my finger on 'g,' 
 or 'a,' " or any note, which, being done, she would play 
 sweetly and correctly, though in no way a musician, as we 
 use the term. 
 
 So much was she loved and so much revered among her 
 friends of all creeds that there was no engagement, but the 
 contracting parties did not go for "Miss Penina's" bless- 
 ing, even ^though one of them often was unacquainted. 
 Sometimes she was in the secret of an affaire de coeur, and 
 the courtship often progressed in her little sanctum. She 
 was too much in sympathy to make the accidental (?) caller 
 go, though she would often punish him by making him 
 listen to reading even though his looks and hands were 
 not seen by her. Be sure she knew they were not idle, 
 for a book did not always need to be held with two hands. 
 No marriages were just right till the newly wedded couple 
 had her gentle hands laid in blessing on their bowed heads. 
 No new baby was sent to any of its friends but at its first 
 outing the happy mother took it for "Miss Penina's bless- 
 ing." Can't you seethe beauty of this and the reverence 
 this good woman inspired ? Blind, poor, very plain in 
 appearance, yet for all and to all her "God bless you" was 
 ever ready and earnestly sought. Where else can you find 
 another such instance ? 
 
 "My hand on many a fair young head 
 
 In benediction has been laid 
 On birthdays when by custom led 
 
 Kindred and friends fond tribute paid, 
 A blessing and an earnest prayer 
 
 To some indeed may seem as naught . 
 
 Yet these alone have I the power 
 
 On natal festivals to yield, 
 Each but a spiritual flower 
 
 Annuals that spring from Faith's own field 
 
 VI. 
 
Life of Pknina Moisb. 
 
 "God bless you" by affection spoken, 
 
 And sanctified by solemn truth, 
 May prove the choicest birthday token, 
 
 Age can bestow on fervid youth. 
 
 As steel is refined by the furnace, so the human heart is 
 tested and purified by trials and sorrows. Penina Moise's 
 trials began when she was 12 years old. They continued 
 until the close of her life at 83, a period of seventy-one 
 years of hardship and poverty, including nearly twenty-five 
 years of blindness and suffering. Think of it, and try to 
 imagine the character of the woman who, under the most 
 severe trials, still devoted her time and talents to instruct- 
 ing the young, teaching the uncertain to understand the 
 laws of our religion, and by her example imparting the 
 grand truths of resignation, faith and unselfishness. It 
 was a privilege to know her, and few communities can 
 boast the proud possession of the poems of any member 
 considered worthy to be used as hymns in the services of a 
 place of worship. Such is the distinction of the congrega- 
 tion of Beth Elohim, of which this gifted woman was a 
 member. 
 
 The greatest sorrow of her life was the death of her 
 brother Jacob which occurred in 1839 on the same date as 
 her sister's birth. The only evidence of murmuring 
 against Fate was at this time, and her feelings are exquis- 
 itely shown in a hymn which begins 
 
 "When I would smile, remembrance brings." 
 
 Again she was destined to bear a crushing sorrow. In 
 the year 1872, on March 11th, her only sister died suddenly 
 when about to enter the school room. This loss was indee A. 
 a heavy one for her to bear, but she did not rebel nor give 
 her sorrow words. 
 
 It was necessary after her loved sister died that her niece 
 take daily exercise, and these afternoon hours were eagerly 
 filled by volunteered readers, who would in turn stay until 
 "Miss Jacque" or Jacqueline returned. 
 
 VII. 
 
LIFE OF PKNINA MoiSE. 
 
 Each day had its regular reader, who would send a sub- 
 stitute if unable to keep her engagement. Sometimes Miss 
 Penina would say : "Let us not read to-day, let's talk." 
 Oh ! what a treat. It either meant memories of her's 
 delightfully told, or interest in your affairs most sympa- 
 thetically shared. On Kippur day a regular schedule 
 previously made out worked like clockwork. The first 
 girl would go at 10 o'clock to begin the services to her, 
 and five minutes before each hour a young lady would leave 
 the Synagogue, another entering about five minutes after 
 the hour, having been relieved at Miss Penina' s. This 
 went on without interruption until the holy day was over. 
 Was not this a privilege always to be remembered by those 
 who served as her eyes on this sacred day? She composed 
 a game called "facts for you and me," general instruction 
 in the world's important facts. This was played every 
 Friday by the advanced pupils. It was a fund of informa- 
 tion gained in a delightful way. Her only exercise in 18 
 years was around her bed. She counted the distance by 
 steps, and so many times around was a mile. To keep her 
 mind alert and her memory fresh she used in her walk to 
 take the subject of geography, history or literature, and 
 according to the alphabet recall cities, rivers, mountains, 
 persons, characters. Bach day she would take a different 
 letter. To-day in her walk she would begin with A and 
 name over every city beginning with A. The next day B, 
 and so on. Then rivers, people, etc. At the finish of each 
 letter and a certain number of miles she would rest for that 
 da}'. After months she would begin again, all being then 
 exhausted. She was a magnificent grammarian, yet never 
 studied a word of it in school. She never went to one after 
 she was twelve years old. She was a self-taught woman, 
 and her store house of knowledge was crowded with the 
 best information. Much of her beautiful poetry was writ- 
 ten at night. She kept under her pillow a large slate from 
 which suspended a pencil on a cord. 
 
 VIII. 
 
Life of Penina Moise. 
 
 Suffering and wakefulness were her lot, and when some- 
 times she would feel overburdened with poetic thought she 
 would abstract the slate from its hiding place, write until 
 she was relieved of her unrest, leave the crossed and re- 
 crossed lines on a chair always beside her bed, and get the 
 sleep she so much needed. Next morning her faithful 
 niece would copy the beautiful thoughts, she alone know- 
 ing how to make order out of this chaotic writing. That 
 is the way most of her poetry of the last twenty years was 
 written. She used a patchwork quilt on her bed whose 
 colors she could tell by simply passing her hand over them. 
 When unable to leave her room she used often to occupy her- 
 self by ripping some old garment, and she has often re- 
 marked that she never cut the material. She, of course, 
 was slow, but very careful. She had a deep-seated dis- 
 approval of intermarriages and for this reason is said to 
 have always remained single. Her love in youth was un- 
 fortunately placed and she preferred to be true to her faith 
 than to marry out of it. In one thing she was firm, even if 
 in error. She would never recognize even her relatives, 
 who broke this law of the Jewish religion, forgetting or 
 failing to see that she had no right to be the judge. I sup- 
 pose she hoped her opposition would influence some of her 
 acquaintances. Her legacy to the Hasell Street Synagogue, 
 and to all Jews, in her beautiful hymns, were a regular 
 part of every service, having been written to suit every- 
 occasion. They were household words; may they rise 
 again phoenix-like from their ashes and become the com- 
 fort they were once to all. 
 
 Of her Charlotte Adams writes: ''Blind, poor, and get- 
 ting her living in her old age by keeping a little school, she 
 yet created a literary salon to which the best minds of 
 Charleston flocked . Her Friday afternoons were centres of 
 intellectual intercourse. To the romantic imaginations of 
 tb.ft young girls whom she taught sitting in her large rocking 
 chair y in her plain calico gown, with her sightless eyes 
 
 ix. 
 
IylPE OF PKNINA MOISE. 
 
 looking out from under her black coif, which completely 
 hid her hair, she presented herself as an incarnation of in- 
 tellectual and social strength. Madame De Stael squab- 
 bling with Napoleon Bonaparte, Madame Recamier reclin- 
 ing in limp garments on her tub-like couch with M. 
 Chautaubrian reading his manuscript to her — these were 
 but the prototj'pes of Penina. Miss Moise was jonnected 
 with best Hebrew families in Charleston, and many of her 
 scholars w T ere of her own kindred. Her methods of in- 
 struction were of the Magnall's Question order, and might 
 have befitted the reign of George IV. She delighted in 
 composing alphabets for literary novices, geographical 
 rhymes and historical conundrums, her pupils read aloud 
 to her, and by her system of education girls of twelve were 
 made familiar with George Eliot, Charlotte Bronte, Walter 
 Scott and other English classics. Numerous volumes of 
 French female memoirs were perused by Miss Moise' s 
 scholars — for 'Penina,' as her pupils fondly called her, 
 had all the ga3^ety, contentment and jo3^ous philosophy of 
 the French temperament. Twenty-five years of blindness 
 did not diminish her fondness for life's pleasures. She 
 lived in books, and especially in the lives of noted French 
 women found the keenest sympathy/' 
 
 Chastened and purified in spirit, her life henceforth was 
 devoted to sacred thoughts and home affections. 
 
 Thus she lived on to the eighty-third year, her health 
 always delicate, herself a prisoner in her home for twenty- 
 five years, her sight entirely gone, yet her mind as active 
 and powerful as ever. Like a second Joseph, she had so 
 well filled her mental storehouse that when unable to add 
 more she had laid by so much that to all, who requested a 
 full share was given. It was then that her friends, both 
 Jew and Gentile, came daily to read to her from the papers 
 and magazines, and while giving her this great pleasure, 
 received in return gems of historical and literary value. 
 She continued to live with her niece until the fall of 1880, 
 
I,IFE OF PBNINA MOISE. 
 
 when on September 13 her pure spirit passed from earth 
 and rested in the bosom of her God. 
 
 We pass over the weeks of her last illness, during which 
 she suffered so intensely that even her niece, who loved 
 her as a daughter, prayed for her release, yet no murmur 
 escaped her lips ; she had learned in suffering what she 
 taught in song. Unostentatious in life, in death she taught 
 lessons of humility, requesting a plain coffin, simple fun- 
 eral and no floral display . Her remains were buried in the 
 Coming Street Cemetery. Living her chastened life apart 
 from the gay world, in a rarefied impersonal atmosphere. 
 Penina was, in the finest sense, the mother of her people. 
 
 XI. 
 
HYMNS. 
 
 CONSECRATION HYMNS. 
 
 When Faith too young for a sublimer creed, 
 
 Her simple text from nature's volume taught, 
 She 'wakened Melody, whose shell and reed, 
 
 Though rude, upon her spirit gently wrought. 
 But soon from sylvan altars she took wing, 
 
 And music followed still the angel's flight; 
 Savage no more, she touched a golden string, 
 And sung of God, in Revelation's light. 
 Lend, lend our chords, ye seraph-pair, 
 
 The soul of Jesse's son, 
 That we may, in harmonious prayer, 
 Exalt the Holy One ! 
 
 Girt in His lightning robe, God gave the law, 
 
 From trembling Sinai, to His eldest-born; 
 Tablets, that time from memory could not draw, 
 A talisman in Judah's bosom worn. 
 His spirit before thousands past, 
 
 To one alone revealed; 
 And 'mid the thunder's awful blast, 
 Faith's covenant was sealed. 
 
 "Him first, Him last," Him let us ever sing, 
 
 Whose promise yet the Hebrew pilgrim cheers; 
 Who shall His wandering people once more bring 
 Back to the glory of departed years. 
 Bright pillars of our desert path, 
 
 Through shame and scorn adored; 
 Thy mercy triumph's o'er thy wrath, 
 Creator, King, and Lord ! 
 
 *Hymn 1 was sung at the consecration of the Synagogue of the 
 Congregation Beth F,lohim, on Friday, the 26th of Adar, A. M. 5601. 
 
Hymns. 
 
 Lost is the pomp, that in the land of palms 
 
 Thy regal temple on Moriah graced ; 
 No wreathing incense here Thy shrine embalms, 
 No cherub-plumes are round its altars placed. 
 Our censer is the "vital urn," 
 Our ark's upborne by zeal ; 
 To these, Almighty ! wilt thou turn 
 At Israel's appeal. 
 
 Now, let joyous Hallelujah's ring, 
 
 The fallen casts her ashes far away ; 
 Behold another fane from ruin spring, 
 In brighter and more beautiful array. 
 Enter in brotherly accord 
 
 God's holy dwelling-place ; 
 
 Chastened in spirit and in word, 
 
 There supplicate His grace. 
 
 Hear, O Supreme ! our humble invocation ; 
 
 Our country, kindred, and the stranger bless ! 
 Bless, too, this sanctuary's consecration, 
 Its hallowed purpose on our hearts impress. 
 Still, still let choral harmony 
 Ascend before Thy throne ; 
 While echoing seraphim reply : 
 The Lord our God is One ! 
 
 ATTRIBUTES OF GOD. 
 Unity of God. 
 
 One God ! One Lord ! One mighty King ! 
 In unity will Judah sing ; 
 Transmitting e'er from sire to son 
 The truth that God is only One. 
 
 Thee, Sov'reign of the universe, 
 Through ages, 'mid all sects diverse, 
 The Hebrew child is taught to praise, 
 To lisp Thy name, and learn Thy ways. 
 
 2 
 
Hymns. 
 
 To Thee alone, when life recedes, 
 The dying Israelite still pleads ; 
 In One Redeemer, God, and guide 
 His fleeting spirit doth confide. 
 
 Centre and Source of truth sublime ! 
 The sun is but a lamp of time, 
 A transient spark by mercy fed, 
 That man might up to Thee be led. 
 
 Thy law is that eternal Light, 
 That dawning first on Horeb's height, 
 Still deigns on Israel to shine, 
 A proof of grace and love divine. 
 
 It penetrates the stubborn heart, 
 And purifies its sinful part, 
 The voice of God, O Judah ! hear, 
 And fix His law for ever there. 
 
 IMMUTABILITY OF GOD. 
 
 PSAI,M XC. 
 
 O God ! as we on nature gaze, 
 
 We see through all her mighty maze, 
 
 The spirit of mutation ; 
 Thou art alone with power endued 
 To triumph o'er vicissitude ; 
 Thou knowest no variation. 
 
 Stars disappear 
 
 From heaven's sphere, 
 
 Yet Thou art there ! 
 
 Seas shrink to rills, 
 
 High rocks to hills : 
 Such change but nature's law fulfills. 
 
Hymns. 
 
 Exhaustless Source of countless suns ! 
 Thy voice to earth's unheeding ones 
 
 This mandate e'er resoundeth : 
 Alike ye abject and august, 
 Sink, downward sink, to kindred dust, 
 Where death his empire foundeth. 
 
 God of the spheres ! 
 
 A thousand years 
 
 One day appears 
 
 To Thee, whose hand 
 
 The heavens spanned, 
 And worlds on worlds stupendous planned. 
 
 We are as flowers of the mead, 
 Bearing corruption's fatal seed 
 Within our heart's recesses ; 
 But, oh ! believe the truth we sing, 
 To soul and blossom comes a spring, 
 That vivifies and blesses. 
 
 Each hath its tears, 
 
 Each tribute bears 
 
 Of sweets or prayers ; 
 
 But man, whose mind 
 
 God's image shrined, 
 Shall place among immortals find. 
 
 Behold the grass with dew-drops decked ! 
 Canst thou in its green spikes detect 
 
 Aught that decay portend eth ? 
 Yet look, at eve, on each young blade 
 That in the beams of morning played, 
 Cut down — with dust it blendeth. 
 Type of man's fate ! 
 With youth elate 
 His mortal date 
 Remote appears : 
 'Till waning years 
 Wither the verdure life first bears. 
 
 4 
 
Hymns. 
 
 Three-score— how small a part is this, 
 Of ages cast in that abyss 
 
 Where time his victims hideth ; 
 That tomb of many yesterdays, 
 From which a voice proceeds and says 
 To those whom reason guideth : 
 
 From this our grave, 
 
 Ye fair and brave, 
 
 Your morrows save 
 
 Lest by neglect 
 
 These two are wrecked, 
 And buried 'neath oblivion's wave. 
 
 Then count the moments as they pass, 
 Shining or dark, from time's sand-glass. 
 
 Ere they depart for ever ; 
 From each some blessed thought extract, 
 To each attach some godly act, 
 Or virtuous endeavor. 
 
 Then shall no change 
 
 Your peace derange, 
 
 Your souls estrange 
 
 From that great guide 
 
 Who rules the tide, 
 That past from future doth divide. 
 
 Immutability is Thine, 
 Creator, King, and Lord divine, 
 In whom perfection dwelleth ! 
 Oh ! bring us nearer to Thy throne, 
 Let us from angels catch the tone 
 That of thy glory telleth. 
 Oh ! bless the meek 
 Who daily seek 
 Thy praise to speak ; 
 Whose efforts blend, 
 Faith to extend 
 In Thee, man's never-changing Friend ! 
 
 5 
 
 / 
 
Hymns. 
 
 OMNIPOTENCE. 
 
 A Glorified throughout all time, 
 
 Be the name of God supreme ! 
 Who in heaven reigned sublime, 
 Ere creation felt His beam. 
 
 He the world's foundation laid 
 By His strength of will alone ; 
 
 Suns and stars around him played, 
 Catching splendor from His throne. 
 
 Nature, at His bidding brought 
 
 Atoms into elements ; 
 Works of beauty then were wrought, 
 
 Worthy of Omnipotence. 
 
 Mountains towered high and vast, 
 Seas from viewless caverns gushed, 
 
 Infant winds serenely passed, 
 Flowers into being blushed. 
 
 Tenants of the air and deep, 
 Animals that tread the ground, 
 
 Insect tribes that o'er it creep, 
 Were to life and order bound. 
 
 Man, at last, God's spirit felt 
 Glowing warmly in his soul 
 
 Earth before a sov'reign knelt, 
 And acknowledged his control. 
 
 With this spark of light divine, 
 Shining o'er the breast within, 
 
 Mortal, oh ! what shame is thine, 
 When thou fallest into sin. 
 
Hymns. 
 
 C The Lord of heaven reigns, 
 Eternal and sublime ; 
 All limit he disdains 
 
 Of power, space, or time. 
 
 Though ages take their flight, 
 No change in Him it makes, 
 
 Whose raiment is the light, 
 
 Whose voice in thunder speaks. 
 
 Stars with His essence fraught, 
 
 In harmony unite, 
 To praise the Hand that wrought 
 
 The orbs of day and night. 
 
 As ocean ebbs and flows, 
 
 Swayed by its viewless guide, 
 
 In tempest or repose, 
 God still is glorified. 
 
 O Lord ! let me not fail 
 
 In trials of the soul ; 
 Let perfect faith prevail, 
 
 And pious self-control. 
 
 Desert not Thy frail charge, 
 But with a father's care 
 
 My heart and mind enlarge, 
 To bear and to forbear. 
 
 OMNISCIENCE. 
 
 /C In God, the holy, wise, and just. 
 From childhood's tender years, 
 Have I reposed with perfect trust 
 My worldly hopes and fears. 
 
 7 
 
Hym:n t s. 
 
 From every page that time has turned, 
 Since that bright season fled, 
 
 Some useful lesson have I learned, 
 Some striking moral read. 
 
 The prize ambition keenly sought, 
 A worthless bauble proved ; 
 
 The web of gold by av'rice wrought, 
 A mighty Hand removed. 
 
 No self -exalting scheme can man, 
 Unknown to God, project ; 
 
 No dark device the sland'rer plan, 
 Which He will not detect. 
 
 In vain would evil-doers hope 
 
 His scrutiny to fly ; 
 Naught passes beneath heaven's cope, 
 
 Unnoticed by His eye. 
 
 Oh ! should my term of life exceed 
 
 Frail man's allotted days, 
 In age to Mercy would I plead 
 
 For strength my God to praise. 
 
 Divine Disposer of events ! 
 
 To whom all praise belongs ; 
 Each attribute of Thine presents 
 
 A theme for countless songs. 
 
 Though mortal years were multiplied 
 A thousand thousand fold ; 
 
 Yet time would scarcely be supplied, 
 Thy powers to unfold . 
 
Hymns. 
 
 How shall a feeble, finite mind 
 
 Of Thine omniscience sing ? 
 Wisdom for this no words can find, 
 
 And melody no string. 
 
 In timid tones if angels speak 
 
 Of Thee, all-knowing God ! 
 How then shall man, minute and weak, 
 
 Thy excellencies laud ? 
 
 All heights and depths in nature's bound 
 
 Are visible to Thee, 
 The lofty heart, the mind profound, 
 
 The mountains and the sea. 
 
 No eye but Thine, eternal King ! 
 
 Can penetrate the grave ; 
 No hand but Thine from thence can bring 
 
 The soul Thy grace will save. 
 
 Oh ! let us then in virtue's scale 
 
 Strive ever to ascend, 
 And find, beyond this tearful vale, 
 
 An everlasting Friend. 
 
 GENESIS, CHAP. XVI., V. 13. 
 
 O Almighty God ! whose will alone 
 
 Sufficed the world to fabricate , 
 Whose comprehensive glance is thrown 
 
 O'er every empire, realm and state : 
 How from Thy ever-searching eye, 
 
 Can man the heart's dominion hide ? 
 Where passions among virtues lie, 
 
 As reptiles among flowers glide. 
 
Hymns. 
 
 Father of mercies ! aid my soul 
 
 Its failings to eradicate ; 
 Let truth its every thought control, 
 
 Its every feeling elevate. 
 Fearless before Thee let me stand, 
 
 O Lord ! in conscious rectitude ; 
 And feel, when human deeds are scanned, 
 
 That mine with favor shall be viewed. 
 
 OMNIPRESENCE. 
 
 Wherefore Hallelujah sing, 
 
 O though who knowest not 
 Where an omnipresent King 
 
 May by thy soul be sought ? 
 Canst thou fix the point or place 
 
 That His spirit holdeth ? 
 Earth and heaven, time and space, 
 
 In His grasp He foldeth. 
 
 Dust-born atom ! look above, 
 
 Where lustrous worlds are shrined 
 Ask, if all-pervading Love, 
 
 To these His light confined ? 
 Let proud ocean's voice attest, 
 
 (Though fathomless to man,) 
 If ubiquity may rest 
 
 Within its mighty span. 
 
 Ask of the blast that rendeth 
 
 The forest's sylvan robe, 
 Whether it comprehendeth 
 
 The Ruler of the globe ? 
 Turn from living elements 
 
 To those by death dissolved ; 
 Ever-present Providence ! 
 
 Art Thou in these involved ? 
 * 10 
 
Hymns. 
 
 All repeat as they respond : 
 
 "What can the boundless hold?" 
 Answered from the world beyond : 
 
 "Naught of a finite mould !" 
 Yet by whirlwinds, stars and seas, 
 
 The L,ord is magnified ; 
 Shall not human praise then please 
 
 Our omnipresent Guide ? 
 
 Oh ! then let no emotion 
 
 By which the heart is swayed, 
 Prevent that deep devotion, 
 
 That should to God be paid. 
 Social life and solitude 
 
 Alike shall prompt the prater, 
 That faith, hope, and gratitude 
 
 Before His throne shall bear. 
 
 I tremble not ! Thou, Lord, art nigh, 
 All-knowing and all-seeing ! 
 
 To Thee, disconsolate, I fly, 
 Kind Guardian of my being. 
 
 From infancy to age mature, 
 
 Thee only did my soul adore. 
 
 To ev'ry evil that annoys, 
 
 To every trial fearful, 
 Thou bringest some light counterpoise, 
 
 To make earth's vale less tearful, 
 But, oh ! how few interpret right, 
 Either the blessing or the blight. 
 
 Sad consciousness have I, alas ! 
 
 Of sinful meditation ; 
 O'er which Omniscience cannot pass 
 
 Without stern reprobation. 
 Yet doubt shall not my faith debase, 
 That sets no limit to Thy grace. 
 
 11 
 
Hymns. 
 
 Self -kindled, Thine intelligence 
 
 The universe enlightens ; 
 And darkness, e'en the most intense, 
 
 To mid-day splendor brightens. 
 Guilt vainly seeks nocturnal shades, 
 Since naught Thy mighty grasp evades. 
 
 A sinner's cry, a seraph's call, 
 
 Alternate Thou attendest ; 
 A flower's rise, an empire's fall, 
 
 In one survey Thou blend est. 
 All nature 'neath Thy glance expands, 
 But who Thine essence understands ? 
 
 "Show me Thy glory ?" said the seer, 
 
 Who Sinai's law attested ; 
 "in graciousness will I appear 
 
 Before Thee manifested." 
 Thus did the voice of God proclaim, — 
 Goodness and glory were the same. 
 
 Invisibly He passeth by 
 
 His children every hour, 
 Who from devotion's rock descry 
 
 His majesty and power ; 
 But none among the living seen 
 May contemplate His awful mien. 
 
 Yet through my spirit, oft I see 
 His countenance all beaming ; 
 
 When charity, by His decree, 
 Worth is from want redeeming. 
 
 And man, most like his Maker, shows 
 
 When this pure love within him glows, 
 
 I tremble not my heart to bare 
 Before Thee, Judge eternal ! 
 
 Whose hand will dry contrition's tear, 
 With tenderness paternal. 
 
 Whose mercy hath to mortals given 
 
 Promise and foretaste of Thy heaven. 
 
 12 
 
Hymns. 
 DIVINE LOVE. 
 
 -1 -1 Not for affliction, gracious God ? 
 Sons of dust didst Thou create 
 Blossoms on Thy penal rod, 
 Its keen strokes to mitigate. 
 
 Buds of joy and thorns of sorrow 
 
 On the tree of life arise ; 
 Care to-day, content to-morrow, 
 
 Thus human lot diversifies. 
 
 Upon the verge of midnight's skies, 
 Dawn's silver herald gleams ; 
 
 So hope, that on grief's border lies, 
 The heart from gloom redeems. 
 
 And as night's silence, deep and drear, 
 By morning's voice is broken, 
 
 So is the stillness of despair, 
 By words that faith had spoken. 
 
 Winter, inclement and unkind, 
 Yet guards the sleeping flowers, 
 
 That spring on its return may find 
 These smiling in her bowers. 
 
 Adversity's most bitter day 
 
 From us this world estrangeth ; 
 
 But for the soul prepares the way 
 To one that never changeth. 
 
 The thunder-clouds of war contain 
 
 Elements of peace serene, 
 That brings a rainbow back again, 
 
 Where martial storm had been. 
 13 
 
Hymns- 
 
 Meek faith converts the couch of pain 
 
 Into a bed of roses ; 
 For there we moral vigor gain, 
 
 To bear what God disposes. 
 
 The soul there breaks its carnal shell, 
 
 Impatient for that station 
 Where saints and seraphs ever dwell, - 
 
 The kingdom of salvation. 
 
 A God, a Father, holds the scale 
 That good and ill comprises ; 
 
 Oh ! then let trust in Him prevail, 
 Which e'er of these arises. 
 
 DIVINE MERCY. 
 
 Genesis, chap, ix., v. 13. 
 
 -i O When light broke forth at God's command, 
 It brightened ocean, air and land, 
 'Twas then that clouds, and shells, and flowers 
 Caught vivid colors from its showers. 
 
 But soon the earth waxed bold in guilt, 
 Defiling shrines by virtue built ; 
 Proud man pursued his evil course, 
 Unchecked by reason or remorse. 
 
 No ray of light creation cheered ; 
 Skies black as mortal sin appeared ; 
 Then burst the deluge o'er the doomed, 
 And wrath divine a world entombed. 
 
 Behold ! upon the wings of light, 
 Tremble the rain-drops large and bright ; 
 And, lo ! the tears of recent storm 
 Have taken Mercy's radiant form. 
 ■ 14 
 
Hymns. 
 
 The bow, the covenant, the token, 
 The promise never to be broken, 
 Expands in beauty o'er the sod, 
 Where Noah rears a shrine to God. 
 
 ^2 O King of glory ! when we contemplate 
 Thy majesty and our mean estate ; 
 Thy purity, that by the angels seen, 
 Makes even their bright spirits seem unclean. 
 How wondrously benign dost Thou appear, 
 O'er mortals to extend a Father's care ! 
 
 Oh ! were it not for mercy such as Thine, 
 How could the conscious sinner seek Thy shrine ? 
 How hope for grace, when long arrears of sin 
 Recorded stand upon the soul within ? 
 But Thou, O Lord ! with clemency divine, 
 Wilt not the guilty to despair consign. 
 
 Who more than Judah can this truth attest ? 
 To whom hath goodness been more manifest ? 
 Though from the prophet's harp he proudly turned, 
 And inspiration's warning music spurned ; 
 Through ages he to Heaven's promise clings, 
 And far from Zion of salvation sings. 
 
 Beneath the pressure of a thousand ills, 
 One hope the heart of every Hebrew thrills, 
 That he may yet prove worthy of Thy love, 
 And by repentance ling' ring wrath remove ; 
 The frown of Justice change to Mercy's smile, 
 Blest as an Israelite devoid of guile. 
 
 Genesis, chap. xxi. 
 
 Weeping, and loth from all she loved to part, 
 Stood Hagar, trembling at her Lord's decree ; 
 
 And, oh ! how like a desert was her heart, 
 When from His gentle presence urged to flee. 
 15 
 
Hymns. 
 
 But Sarah's looks, full of indignant scorn. 
 The truth to her foreboding soul revealed ; 
 
 Forth with her infant son she fled forlorn, 
 And to his Sire above for aid appealed. 
 
 Her scanty bread and beverage are spent, 
 Yet Ishmael sleeps unconscious of her pain ; 
 
 A cry of agony to God is sent : 
 
 ' 'Would that the child would never wake again! " 
 
 The earth grows brighter where the mother stands, 
 A hand divine arrests her falling tears ; 
 
 A cloud of glory gilds the burning sands, 
 And a celestial voice the mourner cheers. 
 
 "Arise and drink of yonder balmy well ! 
 
 Nor from the wilderness henceforward roam ; 
 Father of nations here the lad shall dwell, 
 
 With freedom blest for ages yet to come." 
 
 Oh, ever Bountiful ! forsake us not, 
 
 When driven forth to wander through lif e' s waste ; 
 But cheer with beams of love each barren spot, 
 
 And let us of the spring of mercy taste. 
 
 15 
 
 DIVINE PROVIDENCE. 
 
 How cold that man ! to faith how dead ! 
 Who, having nature's volume read, 
 
 Finds not, from first to last, 
 Some truth that to his moral sense 
 Proves an eternal Providence — 
 
 A present, future, past. 
 
 Below the brute that being ranks, 
 Who fails to render grateful thanks, 
 
 When he creation scans ; 
 Where mountains lift their heads sublime, 
 Gray witnesses from elder time, 
 
 Of Wisdom's mighty plans, 
 16 
 
Hymns. 
 
 Where forests wave and oceans flow, 
 And light sheds an impartial glow, 
 
 Like that of Mercy's rays ; 
 Where gentle flowers yield their sweets, 
 And ev'ry warbling bird repeats, 
 
 Instinctive notes of praise. 
 
 Yet such there are in human kind, 
 Whose souls to worldly claims resigned, 
 
 With apathy behold, 
 Not only blossoms, hills and streams, 
 But heaven with its starry beams 
 
 Of incorruptive gold. 
 
 Blind pilgrims these who grope their way, 
 Without a guide their steps to sway, 
 
 Until a sudden fall 
 Reminds them, when perhaps too late, 
 Of those vicissitudes of fate 
 
 Which for religion call. 
 
 Oh ! then will startled conscience seek 
 Peace with an angry God to make, 
 
 And lips will move in prayer ; 
 Gracious and long-enduring Lord ! 
 Pardon e'en then wilt Thou accord, 
 
 If man but proves sincere. 
 
 Psai,m i,xxvn. 
 
 i (I I will still remain with Thee, 
 
 My God ! in each vicissitude ; 
 Though misfortune compass me, 
 
 My trust shall never be subdued. 
 Father ! to Thy hand I cling, 
 Seeking refuge 'neath Thy wing. 
 
 17 
 
Hymns. 
 
 When some bold inquirer asks : 
 
 Whom callest thou a gracious master ? 
 Is it love that overtasks ? 
 
 Is it grace that brings disaster ? 
 Silencing the scoffer's strain, 
 Faithful still do I remain. 
 Once again the scorner speaks : 
 
 Why should the transgressor nourish ? 
 Him who every statute breaks, 
 
 Why should Heaven's bounty nourish ? 
 Fool ! the sun matures the seeds, 
 Both of flowers and of weeds. 
 
 But beyond life's little hour, 
 Memory the blossom shieldeth ; 
 
 For each leaflet of the flower 
 Still a grateful odor yieldeth ; 
 
 Whilst noxious plant, decayed, 
 
 Scentless in the dust is laid. 
 
 Thus embalmed, each spirit pure, 
 By remembrance e'er is cherished ; 
 
 Where is then the evil doer ? 
 
 Where the place on which he perished ? 
 
 Let oblivion answer this, 
 
 From its dark and dread abyss. 
 
 Lord ! to Thee will I adhere, 
 
 Though condemned in grief to languish ; 
 Though the whole of my career 
 
 May be spent in tears and anguish. 
 See I not a better land ? 
 Hold I not a Father's hand ? 
 
 Source of light and purity ! 
 
 Living, let truth my mind illume ; 
 God of all futurity ! 
 
 Unlock the portals of my tomb. 
 Let my soul the blessing gain, 
 With Thee ever to remain. 
 
 18 
 
Hymns. 
 
 -J *7 We look to Thee, ineffable King ! 
 
 Whose spirit dust could organize, 
 Into each bright and beauteous thing, 
 
 That in the globe's wide compass lies ; 
 Paternal, providential I^ord ! 
 ' We look to Thee and praise accord. 
 
 We look to Thee, protective Power, 
 Whose beauty for no claimant waits ; 
 
 But freely flowing every hour, 
 Thy children's want anticipates. 
 
 To satisfy our soul's desire, 
 
 We look to Thee, almighty Sire ! 
 
 We look to Thee when sorrow's season 
 Covers with frost the head and heart ; 
 
 When suffering from social treason, 
 Friend after friend we see depart. 
 
 Thus desolate, O God ! above, 
 
 We look to Thee alone for love. 
 
 We look to Thee when feeling gaineth 
 Mastery o'er the moral sense ; 
 
 When curb and counsel it disdaineth, 
 By reason brought for its defence. 
 
 From this dread trial to be free, 
 
 Searcher of hearts ! we look to Thee. 
 
 We look to Thee when we discover 
 Death's shadow on our pathway rest ; 
 
 When all life's interests are over, 
 That once elated or depressed. 
 
 A better, brighter world to see, 
 
 Saviour and Lord ! we look to Thee. 
 
 19 
 
Hymns. 
 
 Lo ! He sleeps and slumbers not, 
 
 Israel's God and Guide ! 
 Then, whatever be thy lot, 
 
 In Him thy hope confide. 
 To Him be all thy heart resigned, 
 Whose hands alone its wounds can bind. 
 
 Oh, fear not ! 
 But trust to His paternal care, 
 All that on earth to thee is dear ; 
 Never from remembrance blot : 
 Omnipotence slumbers not. 
 
 Lo ! it sleeps and slumbers not, 
 
 The providence of heaven ! 
 But has watched o'er every spot, 
 
 To which thou hast been driven. 
 Special hath been the protection 
 Of the race of its election. 
 
 Tremble not ! 
 But ever to his will conform, 
 Whose word can tranquilize the storm. 
 Who (oh ! be it ne'er forgot,) 
 Ever present, slumbers not. 
 
 Lo ! they sleep and slumber not, 
 God's transcendent powers ! 
 
 These all radiant beauties wrought, 
 From stars, and gems, and flowers, 
 
 Brighter than all, man's spirit made, 
 
 In His similitude array 'd. 
 Despond not ! 
 
 Love, that nature animated, 
 
 Will defend what it created ; 
 
 Rock, worm, bud, in wisdom brought, 
 
 Say : God's power slumbers not ! 
 
 Lo ! it sleeps and slumbers not, 
 That deep abiding love ! 
 
 20 
 
Hymns. 
 
 With forbearing patience fraught, 
 
 That man's remorse should move. 
 That mightiest of attributes, 
 Which evil into good transmutes. 
 
 Oh, weep not ! 
 For in this charity divide, 
 Thou hast a token and a sign, 
 That whate'er God may allot, 
 His compassion slumbers not. 
 
 L,o ! it sleeps and slumbers not, 
 
 God's equity supreme ! 
 That casts in every mortal's lot 
 
 A shadow and a beam. 
 Whose bolt retributive descends 
 On him who 'gainst His law offends. 
 
 Yet, doubt not 
 That he who acts a righteous part, 
 Will rest upon his Father's heart, 
 When that kingdom shall be sought, 
 Where pure justice slumbers not. 
 
 Lo ! it sleeps and slumbers not, 
 That all pervading grace, 
 
 That in palace and in cot, 
 Leaves its benignant trace ; 
 
 Whose radiations mild are thrown, 
 
 Unceasingly from zone to zone. 
 Oh ! linger not. 
 
 Thou wanderer from virtue's way. 
 
 To Providence contritely pray, 
 
 Mercy ne'er is vainly sought ; 
 
 Judah's Guardian slumbers not. 
 
 Isaiah, chap. xliv. 
 
 •1 Q Fear not, fear not, O Jeshurun, 
 
 My own, my chosen treasure ! 
 
 Blessings are for thy offspring won , 
 
 Yea, mercies without measure. 
 21 
 
Hymns. 
 
 Like willows by the water-course, 
 Ye righteous servants flourish ; 
 
 My spirit, the unfailing source, 
 That Jacob's seed shall nourish. 
 
 Idols of earth usurp my praise, — 
 Beware, O cherished nation ! 
 
 Lest ye your hearts in homage raise, 
 To God's abomination. 
 
 "I am the first, I am the last ;" 
 Woe to the bold blasphemer ! 
 
 Who shall some monstrous image cast, 
 And call it his Redeemer. 
 
 Beneath the firmament's broad cope, 
 
 Bear witness as ye gather, 
 That I alone am Israel's Hope, 
 
 His Judge, his King, his Father. 
 
 Psai,m cxxvn. 
 
 Of) Unless the land where ye abide, 
 The care of Heaven boasts, 
 Falsely to watchmen ye confide 
 The safety of its coasts. 
 
 Except the Lord will fortify 
 
 The fabrics ye erect, 
 Vain are the pillars, strong and high, 
 
 Of mortal architect. 
 
 Whether, O Judah ! ye sojourn 
 In deserts, towns, or tents, 
 
 To God, as to your fortress, turn 
 Your tower of defence. 
 
 22 
 
Hymns. 
 
 On land and sea, enslaved or free, 
 
 His name alone extol : 
 Who is, who was, and e'er shall be, 
 
 Guardian and King of all. 
 
 MAN'S DIGNITY AND DESTINATION. 
 
 21 
 
 MAN'S DIGNITY. 
 
 O God ! within Thy temple- walls, 
 
 Light my spirit seems, and free, 
 Regardless of those worldly calls, 
 
 That withdraw it oft from Thee. 
 Faith to the proudest whispers : Here 
 
 Riches are but righteous deeds, 
 And he who dries a human tear, 
 
 Ne'er to mercy vainly pleads. 
 
 Can sorrow at Thy altar raise 
 
 The voice of lamentation ? 
 Oh, no ! its plaint is changed to praise, 
 
 Regret, to Resignation. 
 To naught all human evil shrinks, 
 
 Where revelation showeth 
 That God each soul to heaven links, 
 
 Which ne'er in trust foregoeth. 
 
 Oh ! Brightest, most benignant boon, 
 
 Above all others rated : 
 With Thee, Creator to commune, 
 
 In temples consecrated ; 
 That when life's boundary is past, 
 
 More glorious still appears ; 
 Since sanctuary, we at last, 
 
 Find in celestial spheres, — 
 
 23 
 
Hymns. 
 
 Where no distinction shall be found, 
 Between immortals heav'n born, 
 
 And spirits that, by virtue crowned, 
 Once the chains of earth have worn. 
 
 Merciful Father ! may Thy child 
 Claim this privilege divine ? 
 
 Shall I, by sinful thoughts defiled, 
 
 Call a boon so precious mine ? 
 
 My courage fails not, since Thy grace 
 
 Exceeds in boundless measure, 
 The guilt of that transgressive race 
 
 Who kindle Thy displeasure. 
 Therefore to the house of pray'r 
 
 E'er will I my steps address, 
 All Thy mercies to declare, 
 
 While my errors I confess. 
 
 MAN, THE IMAGE OF GOD. 
 
 oo Exult, my soul, in consciousness proud, 
 That I in God's image was made : 
 That 'mid nature's irrational crowd, 
 Moral light to me was conveyed ; 
 
 When dust, by His pure breath refined. 
 In flesh the "vital spark" enshrined, 
 
 Oh ! how shall I deserve the station 
 
 Omnipotence assigns to me ; 
 Whose spiritual elevation 
 Is next to angels in degree ? 
 
 How Mercy's likeness manifest, 
 Reflected in each mortal breast? 
 
 Perilous pre-eminence ! to hold 
 
 Perfection's model in the mind ; 
 Yet feel how the inferior mould 
 
 24 
 
Hymns. 
 
 In which its essence is confined, 
 May all its majesty efface, 
 And leave of stamp divine no trace. 
 
 Immortal reason ! hast thou no beam 
 
 Of bright intelligence to prove 
 Thy semblance to that Sire supreme, 
 Whose breath is life, whose blessing love ? 
 Triumph ! though passions dim thy ray, 
 In thee God's image we survey. 
 
 Justice, by thee for e'er directed, 
 His strongest feature typifies ; 
 In truth (through reason best reflected) 
 His spirit's light I recognise ; 
 And in beneficence e'er trace 
 His brightest trait : celestial grace ! 
 
 How glorious this filiation, 
 
 Between the Lord of worlds and me ! 
 Oh ! how shall I deserve the station, 
 Next to the angels in degree ? 
 
 Like these, by walking in His ways ; 
 Like these, by singing e'er His praise. 
 
 VIRTUE. 
 
 03 God °f power ! in Thy gift 
 
 Though countless blessings lie, 
 My voice for one alone I lift, 
 In prayer to Thee on high. 
 
 No covetous appeal for gold 
 Shall from my lips proceed ; 
 
 Nor by the love of fame controlled, 
 For crowns of glory plead. 
 
 25 
 
24 
 
 Hymns. 
 
 I ask but for the precious ore 
 Contained in Virtue's mine ; 
 
 And for her wreath that will endure, 
 When diadems decline. 
 
 Of godliness, by Grace supreme, 
 Would I become possessed ; 
 
 Grant that its pure and perfect beam 
 May on my spirit rest. 
 
 Let wisdom of the heart, O Lord ! 
 
 Be now and ever mine ; 
 All else is but corruption's hoard, 
 
 Dust, hiding light divine. 
 
 Oh ! what avails my destination, 
 
 As immortality's great heir, 
 If I, regardless of salvation, 
 
 Do not my soul for this prepare ? 
 If to the world's illusive pleasures 
 
 My spirit hourly I yield, 
 And for its frail and fleeting treasures, 
 
 Uncultured leave fair virtue's field ? 
 
 And what is temporal ambition, 
 
 That never yet fruition found ? 
 A most unhallowed superstition 
 
 In deities, itself hath crowned. 
 That in its soul false idols setting, 
 
 Makes their decree a law supreme, — 
 The statutes of that God forgetting, 
 
 Whose power can alone redeem. 
 
 Mean avarice ! how low the perches 
 To which thy grasping talons cling ; 
 
 Thy downward glance unwearied searches 
 For gold, — thy precious phantom-king. 
 26 
 
Hymns- 
 
 Barren the ground in which it lieth, 
 Buried and hidden from thy view ; 
 
 And nature to its grave denieth 
 
 Flowers, she elsewhere loves to strew. 
 
 Should I not yield to the temptations 
 
 Of passions fierce and wild as these, 
 Self-worship still exacts oblations 
 
 That will not less my God displease — 
 To my own service consecrating 
 
 All that His bounteous hand conferred ; 
 My neighbor ne'er conciliating, 
 
 By gift of love or gentle word. 
 
 Gracious Creator ! ere I perish, 
 
 Let me my trespasses retrieve ; 
 Righteous desires let me cherish, 
 
 And works of godliness achieve. 
 In Thy covenant let me rejoice, 
 
 And in its precepts persevere, 
 For life's chief ornament, making choice 
 
 Of Truth, whose crown the angels wear. 
 
 When in the valley of death I walk, 
 
 Firm be my step, my mind serene ; 
 There, on my God, Redeemer and Rock, 
 
 Will I in trust unfalt'ring lean. 
 My soul shall not tremble while waiting 
 
 Its sentence within the dark tomb ; 
 But heaven beyond contemplating, 
 
 Shrink not from its prelusive gloom. 
 
 PIETY. 
 
 O £J Oh ! turn at meek devotion's call 
 
 From idle dreams of worldly power ; 
 Which flourishes awhile, to fall 
 And perish, like an earth-born flower. 
 27 
 
Hymns. 
 
 Countless are pleasure's bright decoys, 
 
 Unwary mortals to ensnare ; 
 Faith beckons thee from barren joys, 
 
 And points to her immortal sphere. 
 
 Wouldst thou thy soul to God commend ? 
 
 Forsake the scene of heartless mirth ; 
 Seek those who weep without a friend, 
 
 Bring wine and oil to suff'ring worth. 
 
 Let piety direct thy choice, 
 
 In all thy spirit's high concerns ; 
 
 Then shall the pilgrim's heart rejoice, 
 Who in the 'Vale of tears" sojourns. 
 
 O/C How long will man in pleasure merged, 
 Religion's claims neglect ? 
 How long, by worldly interest urged, 
 Her warning hints reject ? 
 
 Vain prodigal of precious time ! 
 
 Were mental gifts bestowed 
 To waste in folly or in crime, 
 
 Oblivious of thy God ? 
 
 When surfeited with life's repast, 
 Its sweetness turned to gall, 
 
 Thy conscience will be roused at last, 
 And death thy soul appal. 
 
 Will worshipers of gold then fly, 
 Thy d> ing couch to cheer ? 
 
 Thy spirit's cravings to supply, 
 Will Mirth desert her sphere ? 
 
 No ! Piety forsaken long, 
 Invoked with earnest zeal, 
 
 Will, even then, forget her wrong, 
 And answer thy appeal. 
 28 
 
Hymns. 
 
 But better, wiser far are all, 
 Whose youth devoutly past, 
 
 On heaven's ''Great Physician" call 
 With confidence at last. 
 
 O^ Man of the world ! wilt thou not pause, 
 And give thy heart to Heaven's cause ? 
 In paths of interest wilt thou plod, 
 Forgetful of the Lord thy God ? 
 
 Oh ! turn away from life's parade, 
 Before thy soul hath been betrayed 
 From virtue's eminence to stoop, 
 And forfeit its eternal hope. 
 
 What purer pleasures wouldst thou taste, 
 Than are by piety embraced ? 
 What higher prize couldst thou obtain, 
 Than thy Creator's love to gain ? 
 
 The wealth and glory of the skies 
 Are won, by generous sacrifice, 
 By him who selfish joy foregoes 
 To mitigate another's woes ; 
 
 Whose resignation, calm and meek, 
 Will humbly of God's chastening speak ; 
 Whose soul from perjury is free, 
 And worships but one Diety. 
 
 Man of the world ! no gift of thine 
 Compares with Mercy's pledge divine, 
 Which pardon to each sinner yields, 
 Whose spirit true contrition feels. 
 
 29 
 
Hymns. 
 
 OO In holiness, Eternal Lord ! 
 Thy servant would excel ; 
 Oh ! let its spirit in each word 
 And in each action dwell. 
 
 No strength have I to combat long 
 With passions fierce and wild ; 
 
 Nor hope amid corruption's throng, 
 To wander undefiled. 
 
 For self-direction too unwise, 
 
 For self-defence too frail ; 
 On godliness my hope relies, 
 
 Their spells to countervail. 
 
 This shall my heart's best warder prove, 
 When proud and venal foes 
 
 Presume against benignant love, 
 Its avenues to close. 
 
 This shall from avarice secure 
 Thy worshiper's weak thought, 
 
 By showing that its golden lure, 
 True bliss hath never caught. 
 
 From envy, vanity, and pride, 
 This, too, my soul shall save ; 
 
 O gracious God ! O holy Guide ! 
 Grant me the grace I crave. 
 
 29 
 
 "Blest is the man to whom the Lord 
 
 No iniquity e'er imputes," 
 Who hath the grounds of truth explored, 
 
 And meekly gleaned its godly fruits. 
 
 Above all mortals blest is he, 
 
 Who, from temptation's tangled maze, 
 Hath set his struggling spirit free 
 
 To walk in God's appointed ways. 
 30 
 
Hymns. 
 
 King of the universe ! impart 
 
 To me that energy divine, 
 Which nerves the weak and wayward heart, 
 
 Unrighteous feelings to resign. 
 
 With Thine immortal presence fill 
 The depths of my degenerate soul ; 
 
 Subject its motions to Thy will, 
 Its passions to Thy pure control. 
 
 Oh ! let Thine interdict suffice 
 Each wrong desire to restrain ; 
 
 From what a Father's law denies, 
 L,et me in filial love refrain. 
 
 Care shall not enter then my breast, 
 
 Now to solicitude a prey ; 
 No bitter thought shall break my rest, 
 
 No danger then my sense dismay. 
 
 Welcome the moment that shall bring 
 
 A boon so earnestly desired ! 
 And which from Thee alone must spring, 
 
 From whom all blessings are acquired. 
 
 1A Oh ! how imperfect, blind, and false, 
 Does that faith to me appear, 
 Which from all moral law revolts, 
 
 And exhausts itself in prayer ; 
 That more its sanctity displays 
 In holy words than holy ways. 
 
 Know we not, from revelation, 
 
 What true piety dictates ? 
 Is not Love the best oblation 
 
 That its altar decorates ! 
 The love that with our neighbor shares, 
 In brotherhood, life's joys and cares ? 
 
 31 
 
Hymns. 
 
 Benevolence, whose varied alms, 
 Dealt alike by heart and hand, 
 
 Now virtue's wounded spirit calms, 
 Now relieves want's famished band, — 
 
 Making an Eden oft to bloom, 
 
 E'en amid desolation's gloom. 
 
 Trust, that firmly stands its trial 
 With the arrow in its breast ; 
 
 Meek forgiveness, self-denial, 
 These are Faith's sublimest test. 
 
 Worship like this will supersede 
 
 The lip's loud echo of her creed. 
 
 Oh ! wherefore Heaven's will rehearse 
 In a grave and measured tone, 
 
 If the ungodly and perverse 
 To that will prefer their own ? 
 
 And deem their sacred duties o'er 
 
 When they in prayer their feelings pour ? 
 
 Though precepts may be multiplied, 
 
 Mercy's aim is not fulfilled ; 
 Earth must by us be beautified, 
 
 Truth alone its shrines must build, — 
 Uprooting thence corruption's weeds, 
 To plant religion's purest seeds. 
 
 *5-J The heavens, Almighty ! Thy glory declare, 
 The earth with Thy riches abounds ; 
 Thy provident presence is felt everywhere, 
 Thy name through all nature resounds. 
 
 Day showeth to day the pavilion of light 
 In which Thou hast made Thine abode ; 
 
 And night, breaking silence, extolleth to night 
 The knowledge and power of God. 
 32 
 
Hymns. 
 
 Thou canst not, O man! 'neath the firmanent stand 
 With the fixed star of faith in thy breast, 
 
 Not lifting- in homage thy heart and thy hand, 
 His wisdom and truth to attest. 
 
 Yet think not in verbal devotion alone, 
 
 Thou hast all thy duty achieved ; 
 For prayer without practice ne'er reaches the throne 
 
 From whence all thy gifts are received. 
 
 Thou canst not declare that the way is unknown, 
 
 In which thou'rt required to walk ; 
 For never had pilgrim as true a guide-stone 
 
 As the tablet on Horeb's high rock. 
 
 Though feeble thy step, if thy purpose be strong, 
 
 Life's journey directed by this, 
 Shall close without fear that the mem'ry of wrong 
 
 Will cloud the soul's prospect of bliss. 
 
 22 Lord, my Redeemer and my Rock ! 
 Grant me Thy aid divine 
 To keep Thy judgments, and to walk 
 In truth's unerring line. 
 
 Thou, who hast charge of human kind, 
 
 Thy suppliant e'er save 
 From all that vitiates the mind, 
 
 Or may the heart deprave. 
 
 An infant's helplessness is mine. 
 
 When strong temptations rise, 
 And bid me heaven's hope resign 
 
 For some unhallowed prize. 
 
 Perhaps a plume from glory's wing, 
 A link from pleasure's chain, 
 
 A harp without one holy string, 
 For pure devotion's strain. 
 
 33 
 
33 
 
 Hymns. 
 
 Alas ! how poor is either meed 
 
 For an immortal soul ; 
 Yet oft for these will it recede 
 
 From its celestial goal. 
 
 God of compassion ! to Thy care 
 
 My spirit I commend ; 
 Let it to Thee unblemished bear 
 
 The likeness Thou didst lend. 
 
 IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 
 
 A mournful lament for the dead ! 
 
 Woe unto me ! it is gone ; 
 The hope of my heart is now fled ; 
 
 My joy from earth is withdrawn. 
 
 Whither shall I, broken-hearted, 
 Find balsam for wounds so deep ? 
 
 Silent remain the departed, 
 
 My tears disturb not their sleep. 
 
 Thus e'er when the last angel calls, 
 Man waileth around the tomb ; 
 
 Thus ever when life's blossom falls, 
 Surrenders his soul to gloom. 
 
 Oh ! would he turn upward the eye 
 Despair has fixed in the dust, 
 
 A voice would from thence fortify 
 His faith, his hope, and his trust. 
 
 Excessive grief is unbelief ; 
 
 Hear Omnipotence and heed ! 
 If immortality's first leaf 
 
 Upsprings from Corruption's seed, 
 
 34 
 
Hymns. 
 
 Why then in horror e'er recoil 
 From the mention of decay, 
 
 That hath no power to despoil 
 
 Aught beyond the breathing clay ? 
 
 Think not my providence will cease 
 O'er my children in the grave ; 
 
 Death, my messenger of peace, 
 Frees the soul my grace will save. 
 
 Thy God, thy Father, this proclaims, 
 Whose promises will ne'er deceive. 
 
 Then tremble not at empty names, 
 Ye who Mercy's word believe. 
 
 ^d. Though man of all the ruin hears 
 By time or tempest wrought ; 
 One ray throughout all gloom appears 
 By hope from heaven brought. 
 
 For though the mighty waters shrink 
 
 From oceans into rills, 
 And nature's lofty bulwarks sink 
 
 From mountains into hills ; 
 
 Though these, with many frailer things, 
 
 Perish and pass away ; 
 Faith to the holy promise clings, 
 
 That triumphs o'er decay. 
 
 Man's spirit, by divine decree, 
 
 The stroke of death defies ; 
 And from the bonds of death set free, 
 
 Immortal shall arise. 
 
 3 C Through the valleyof tears as we thoughtfully stray, 
 Where the wrecks of mortality lie ; 
 I^et the spirit of faith spring from dust and decay 
 To Omnipotence throned in the sky. 
 
 35 
 
Hymns. 
 
 The date of a star, (that bright firmament flower, ) 
 
 Is as brief in eternity's sphere, 
 As the blossom that breathes out its life in an hour, 
 
 Nevermore upon earth to appear. 
 
 With that region of infinite Glory compared, 
 Where ages like moments take flight, 
 
 The world seems a cell for man's dwelling prepared, 
 Till his soul grows familiar with light. 
 
 Yea, the earth is a place of probation and pray'r. 
 
 Wherein beggars for bounty divine, 
 Still their sorrows and wounds, to their Father declare, 
 
 That His hand to relief may incline. 
 
 But in heaven the voice of petition shall cease, 
 
 And loud praises for ever resound 
 To the merciful God, for the spirit's release 
 
 From the shackles by which it was bound. 
 
 COMMEMORATION OF THE DEAD. 
 
 Part First. 
 
 *lfi O man ! frail child of finite pow'rs ! 
 Nature, by changeless order. 
 Places thy cradle 'mid the flow'rs 
 That on the grave-yard border. 
 Though youth, while at play 
 In life's vernal ray, 
 Will not take for death' s token 
 Blossoms withered and broken. 
 
 And truth from age to age repeats 
 
 At every pilgrim's portal ; 
 Life as a shadow from thee fleets, 
 
 Remember, thou art mortal ; 
 Wake at that call, wild dreamer ! 
 
 36 
 
Hymns. 
 
 And, by its warning guided, 
 Be yet the wise redeemer 
 
 Of time to thee confided. 
 Woe ! fragile being of an hour, 
 
 Prey to annihilation's power. 
 
 But wherefore, man, in thy serenest mood, 
 
 When joy upon thee flashes, 
 Still minglest thou with songs of gratitude 
 
 Sad thoughts of dust and ashes ? 
 Wilt thou no hint from frailer natures take ? 
 
 From flowers, that at eve appear to die, 
 Yet 'neath the canopy of heaven wake 
 
 To greet God's morning messenger on high ? 
 
 Part Second. 
 
 O Thou ! who dwell 'st in heights supernal, 
 God ! self-existent and eternal ! 
 What traveler shall reach Thy mountain ? 
 What thirsting spirit taste Thy fountain ? 
 
 Mortal ! in thee resides the power, 
 
 Of gaining access unto each ; 
 But he who would to heaven tower, 
 
 Must first the height of virtue reach ; 
 Must see in holiness a beauty 
 
 Earth rivals not in all its bound ; 
 Ne'er mock at truth, nor turn from duty 
 
 Idly to tread life's pleasure ground. 
 Then shall the recording angel render 
 
 Account of all thy righteous wa3^s, 
 And crowning thee, reveal the splendor 
 
 Thy Father's blessed realm displays. 
 
 37 
 
Hymns. 
 
 Woe ! woe ! to the immortal soul 
 That virtue's voice ne'er heeds, 
 
 When justice reads the roll 
 Of its ungodly deeds. 
 
 Joy to the pure and pious breast 
 That darkness never heedeth ; 
 
 With light from spheres celestial blest, 
 When life's last sun recedeth. 
 
 The soul religion trained from youth 
 To scorn the world's dominion, 
 
 Shall reach the native land of truth 
 With free and fearless pinion. 
 
 Triumph ? ye but escape a prison, 
 
 When death that vital chord doth sever 
 Triumph ! when mercy's star hath risen 
 
 To guide ye to your God for ever. 
 Triumph ! on eagle's wings ye tower 
 
 Up to eternity's bright portals ; 
 Triumph ! time hastens to the hour 
 
 That gives ye place with the immortals. 
 
 RELATION BETWEEN GOD AND MAN. 
 
 REVELATION. 
 
 ^O Let choral songs of gladness flow, 
 The Lord of hosts to praise ; 
 Who deigned on darkened minds to throw 
 The law's enlight'ning rays. 
 
 No plea hath Israel for crime ; 
 
 Since God's paternal grace 
 To him revealed those truths sublime; 
 
 Which time can ne'er efface. 
 38 . 
 
Hymns. 
 
 Before our eyes then let us set 
 
 Our Father's bond of love ; 
 With praise repay our filial debt 
 
 To Him who reigns above. 
 
 Let Sinai proudly lift her head 
 
 Above the hills of earth ; 
 For God thereon His glory shed 
 
 At revelation's birth. 
 
 Exalt the Lord ! to whom we owe 
 
 The first and latter rain, 
 And dews from Mercy's fount that flow 
 
 To bless the thirsty plain. 
 
 As those refreshing showers tend 
 
 To fertilize the field ; 
 Thy laws, O God ! our hearts amend, 
 
 And virtue's harvest yield. 
 
 DIVINE LAW. 
 
 'JQ Lord ! when I hear Thy holy law, 
 Its spirit let me comprehend, 
 And meditate with silent awe 
 On words that to salvation tend. 
 
 Oh ! far above the finest gold 
 
 Thy testimonies I esteem ; 
 These shall my faltering feet uphold, 
 
 My steps from evil paths redeem. 
 
 To Thee will I my prayers address, 
 The free-will offerings of my soul ; 
 
 Guardian ! through life's dark wilderness, 
 Do Thou my erring course control. 
 39 
 
Hymns. 
 
 Oh ! let unblemished truth alone 
 My heart and mind for e'er inspire ; 
 
 That I may, in its purest tone, 
 Extol my gracious King and Sire. 
 
 RELIGION. 
 To smile when we on life's breakers are tost, 
 
 And serenely its tempest survey ; 
 To say, though the beacon of hope is lost, 
 Mercy's star will direct our way : 
 Such trust in trial's hour 
 Springs from religion's pow'r. 
 At morn, with cheerful emotions to rise, 
 
 Glorifying the Giver of rest ; 
 Ne'er to let sleep our senses surprise, 
 Ere the world's Benefactor is blest : 
 Such is the righteous course 
 Man's reason should enforce. 
 
 Resolving the path of duty to tread, 
 
 Though our fondest wish this may frustrate ; 
 Never by temptation's voice to be led, 
 The sacred laws of God to violate : 
 Faith only nerves the soul 
 To this great self-control. 
 
 To live harmoniously with all mankind, 
 
 With favors our hurts to requite ; 
 To hold in the heart God's image enshrined, 
 Nor its purity by sin to blight : 
 This shall our peace insure, 
 Now, and for evermore. 
 Undazzled by gold, by menace unmoved, 
 
 One sole Supreme Being to cherish ; 
 To be firm in the faith our fathers loved, 
 Though for this as martyrs we perish ; 
 To piety alone 
 Such fortitude is known. 
 
 40 
 
Hymns- 
 
 Decay to be made ever clear to the mind, 
 And God's herald in death to perceive, 
 Who, when the mortal breath has been resigned, 
 Will the soul to its Redeemer leave : 
 What but religion can 
 Reveal this gracious plan ? 
 
 ^^ Remember, man ! while thou art young, 
 To turn thy heart towards the Lord, 
 Ere sorrow hath thy bosom wrung, 
 Or life hath "loosed its silver chord," 
 
 Spring hath its flowers, — youth its sweets, 
 
 Cradled in both the canker lies ; 
 And when one little season fleets, 
 
 Man's spirit droops— the blossom dies. 
 Ye triflers on the brink of time, 
 
 Scorn not the sage and silver-haired, 
 When they forewarn ye in your prime 
 
 To be for evil days prepared. 
 
 Strong as ye are, shall ye not fall 
 Down to the dust at God's decree ? 
 
 Proud as ye are, shall not the pall 
 Mantle your frail mortality ? 
 
 Praise the Creator, ere decay 
 
 Your energies shall paralyze, 
 Or darkness, in the latter day, 
 
 Shall hide the heavens from your eyes. 
 
 49 Blest are tne enlight'ners of mankind, 
 Thrice blest the holy teacher, 
 Who, with a pure and patient mind, 
 
 Instructs his fellow-creature, — 
 Who, swayed by virtue's golden rule, 
 
 Would her precepts inculcate, 
 And in her chaste and godly school, 
 Erring spirits educate. 
 41 
 
Hymns. 
 
 All are Thy ministers, O Lord ! 
 
 Who, imprest with truth divine, 
 Speed the work, and speak the word 
 
 That shall make its light to shine, — 
 Who in flowers that blush below, 
 
 And in stars that beam above, 
 A glory and perfection show, 
 
 That to faith the heart must move. 
 
 All who, uprooting error's weeds, 
 
 Leave for moral culture room, 
 And with imperishable seeds. 
 
 Cause the barren mind to bloom, — 
 Interpreters of Heaven's law, 
 
 May its God their efforts guide. 
 And to celestial regions draw 
 
 Souls who thus have lived and died. 
 
 Psalm cxuv. 
 
 A *1 Lord ! what is man, that Thou should 'st take 
 Account or knowledge of his ways ? 
 Like shadows from the summer lake, 
 Briefly depart his measured days. 
 
 Yet, though but vanity and dust, 
 Oh ! hear Thy worshiper sincere, 
 
 Who now appeals with humble trust, 
 That Thou wilt grant his earnest prayer. 
 
 Through the world may Israel's youth, 
 Like branches of some goodly tree, 
 
 Enlightened by the rays of truth, 
 Flourish in grace and dignity. 
 
 Dispersed in many climes and zones, 
 May Judah's sprightly daughters be 
 
 Polished, as are the corner-stones, 
 In palaces of royalty. 
 
 42 
 
Hymns. 
 
 May these, above all earthly fame, 
 The favor of their God esteem, 
 
 And merit that distinguished name, 
 The chosen race of the Supreme. 
 
 DUTIES TOWARD GOD. 
 
 ACQUISITION OF THE KNOWLEDGE OF THE 
 
 LORD. 
 
 Glory not in a gift so vain 
 
 As worldly knowledge, ye discreet ! 
 Whose stream, like the treacherous main, 
 
 Rolls onward awhile to retreat. 
 But wisdom by faith purified 
 
 Is light radiating afar, 
 And love for your heavenly Guide 
 
 Its brightest and loveliest star. 
 
 Glory not, O ye that are strong ! 
 
 For on dust your vigor is based ; 
 Strength only to him can belong 
 
 Whose spirit by virtue is braced, 
 'Gainst passions that nature disturb. 
 
 This, this is man's moral resource ; 
 No power their progress to curb, 
 
 Resides in corporeal force. 
 
 Glory not ! ye rich in your gold ! 
 
 More brittle is this than the reed ; 
 Beware ! lest its glittering mould 
 
 The pathway to heaven impede. 
 True honor it can ne'er impart, 
 
 Nor solace in sorrow afford ; 
 Rather pray for a guileless heart, 
 
 That trustingly turns to its Lord. 
 43 
 
Hymns. 
 
 Glory in wisdom that augments 
 
 Your knowledge of a God supreme, 
 Who will, as virtue's recompense, 
 
 Man's spirit from the grave redeem. 
 Glory in energy of soul, 
 
 That truth's assailants will oppose, 
 And with a mighty self-control, 
 
 Crush all religion's bosom foes. 
 
 There is a wealth of words in prayer, 
 
 Though poor the suppliant may be, 
 And themes for many volumes rarei 
 
 In every work of God ye see. 
 Yours be the gold that never frets, 
 
 The wisdom-star that never wanes ; 
 The honor that remembers debts 
 
 Due to the Source of all your gains. 
 
 OBEDIENCE TO THE WILL OF GOD. 
 
 Genesis, chap. i. 
 
 AC Formless and void creation stood, 
 The deep in darkness lay ; 
 When from Thy spirit, Lord ! the flood 
 Borrowed a quick'ning ray. 
 
 Light from the gates of heaven beamed 
 
 On flower, herb, and fruit ; 
 Each element with tenants teemed, 
 
 Fish, reptile, bird, and brute. 
 
 A glowing firmament was seen 
 
 The waters to divide, 
 Whose lustrous orbs seemed links between 
 
 Earth's pilgrim and his Guide. 
 44 
 
Hymns. 
 
 A thousand witnesses appeared, 
 
 God's love to testify ; 
 Mountains and Hills His might declared, 
 
 And bowed as He passed by. 
 
 Man by the tree of knowledge stood, 
 
 Master of all around ; 
 And woman, in her softest mood, 
 
 The gifts of mercy crowned. 
 
 They sin, they fall, — oh ! weep and pray, 
 
 That, tempted, ye may turn 
 From all forbidden things away, 
 
 Nor God's displeasure earn. 
 
 By doubts of His almighty word 
 
 Or His all-perfect ways ; 
 But, firm in faith, obey the I^ord, 
 
 And all His judgments praise. 
 
 Job, chap. ix. 
 
 A £i Oh ! how shall man with God contend, 
 Mighty in strength and wise of heart ? 
 Or hope to prosper in his end , 
 
 Who blindly plays so bold a part ? 
 
 Frail, finite mortal ! shall I stand 
 In judgment with the King of kings, 
 
 Who can the rising sun command 
 To gather up His golden wings ; 
 
 Conceal his light, his course arrest ; 
 
 Seal up the stars ; the heavens spread ; 
 Move mountains from their place of rest ; 
 
 And on the waves of ocean tread ? 
 45 
 
Hymns. 
 
 Should I my righteousness rehearse, 
 Or boast my constant rectitude ? 
 
 What perfect seemed, might prove perverse, 
 When by the eye of Heaven viewed. 
 
 I will not reason or reply, 
 
 But supplicate the Judge Supreme, 
 My soul with hope to fortify, 
 
 That I may bless His holy name. 
 
 A J Though sorrows may be multiplied, 
 And cares around thee throng, 
 In Israel's Guardian still confide, 
 And lift thy voice in song. 
 
 Wilt thou on gold or glory dote, 
 Or covet pomp and power ? 
 
 Bubbles that on life's current float, 
 To break in one brief hour ? 
 
 Though health and competence be thine, 
 And peace thy portion crown, 
 
 Will thine ungrateful spirit pine 
 To reach at high renown ? 
 
 As well might stars rebellious turn 
 From their allotted spheres, 
 
 Ambitious of the solar urn, 
 
 More bright and vast than theirs. 
 
 Oh ! not to question but obey 
 
 The great Creator's word, 
 Was intellect's transcendant ray 
 
 On human dust conferred. 
 
 Praise is the noble privilege 
 
 On man alone bestowed ; 
 Redeem, immortal soul, thy pledge, 
 
 Extol the living God. 
 46 
 
Hymns. 
 
 Genesis, chap, xxvii. 
 
 Deep silence reigned in Isaac's tent, 
 His voice was faint, his vigor spent, 
 Dim were his eyes, for death was near, 
 He spoke' and Esau bowed to hear : 
 
 Awaj^, my first-born, to the field ! 
 Thy quiver take, thy weapons wield ; 
 And let thy filial hand supply 
 Sweet nutriment before I die. 
 
 That life to God I'll soon resign, 
 Once ransomed from Moriah's shrine ; 
 Blest shalt thou be, e'er I depart, 
 Child of my heritage and heart. 
 
 Cheered is the dying patriarch, 
 But age hath made his sense too dark 
 To heed the bold supplanter's lure, 
 His primal blessing to secure. 
 
 Earth's fatness and the dews of heav'n, 
 To thee, young Israel ! are given ; 
 No portion can the prophet 's word 
 To Edom promise, but the sword. 
 
 Too late he mourns his lost birthright, 
 Contemned through carnal appetite : 
 Omnipotence decrees this fate, 
 His outraged laws to vindicate. 
 
 Such is the lot the frail deserve, 
 Who unto idol worship swerve. 
 The favor of some heart to win, 
 Sunk like itself in mortal sin. 
 
 Strengthen me, I^ord ! with moral power 
 Safely to pass temptation's hour ; 
 Nor let me ever lightly prize 
 Aught that Thy wisdom sanctifies. 
 
 47 
 
Hymns. 
 
 FAITH IN GOD. 
 
 AQ I weep not now as once I wept, 
 At fortune's strokes severe ; 
 Since faith hath to my bosom crept, 
 And placed a buckler there. 
 
 Lightly upon this holy shield 
 
 Falls sorrow's thorny rod, 
 And he who wears it learns to yield 
 
 Submissive^ to God. 
 
 It breaks the force of ev'ry dart 
 
 By disappointment hurled 
 Against the shrinking human heart, 
 
 In this cold, callous world. 
 
 Wrestling with this, I have defied 
 All that my peace assailed ; 
 
 Passion subdued hath turned aside, 
 And sin before it quailed. 
 
 How many wounds would now be mine, 
 
 How many pangs intense ! 
 But for the shield of faith divine, 
 
 My spirit's strong defence. 
 
 Oh ! when in prayer my hands I lift 
 
 To Thee, Almighty God ! 
 The excellence of this Thy gift, 
 
 With fervor will I laud. 
 
 Cf\ O God ! to Thy paternal grace, 
 
 That ne'er its bounty measures, 
 
 All gifts Thy grateful children trace, 
 
 That constitutes life's pleasures. 
 
 48 
 
Hymns. 
 
 Light, being, liberty, and joy, 
 
 All, all to Thee are owing ; 
 Nor can another hand destroy 
 
 Blessings of Thy bestowing. 
 
 None, save our own; for in man's heart 
 
 Such passions are secreted, 
 That peace affrighted weeps apart, 
 
 To see Thy aim defeated. 
 
 Light is made dim by human guile, 
 Existence doth but languish, 
 
 And freedom loses her bright smile 
 'Mid scenes of strife and anguish. 
 
 Father ! though forfeited by sin 
 Are all Thy tender mercies ; 
 
 There is a trusting faith within 
 That ev'ry fear disperses. 
 
 Honor and praise to Thee belong, 
 
 O God of our salvation ! 
 Who will defend from shame and wrong 
 
 Thy first elected nation. 
 
 Protector of the quick and dead ! 
 
 Thy love this world o'erfloweth ; 
 And, when the "vital spark" hath fled, 
 
 Eternal life bestoweth. 
 
 Psai,m XXXVII. 
 
 Ci Let thy heart forever delight in the Lord, 
 Though its purity malice assaileth : 
 For naught that detractors may breathe or record 
 Against innocence ever prevaileth, 
 49 
 
Hymns. 
 
 The slanderer's shaft on himself shall recoil, 
 
 By the heavenly Father reverted ; 
 Whose hand cutteth down the green herb to the soil, 
 
 And the being that justice perverted. 
 
 Fret not thyself when prosperity bringeth 
 Treasures untold to the proud and unjust ; 
 
 Righteousness over their sepulchres singeth ; 
 "Gold cannot ransom the soul from the dust." 
 
 From evil depart* let wrath be forsaken ; 
 
 Meekness and truth God's blessings shall merit, 
 Let poverty's plaint thy pity awaken, 
 
 Thou, who the gifts of earth wouldst inherit. 
 
 Awhile the transgressor may seem to tower 
 Like a green bay-tree in the genial ray ; 
 
 But his seed shall perish in life's first hour. 
 And his land to strangers shall pass away. 
 
 Oh ! follow the perfect man — mark the upright, 
 For to him salvation and peace belong ; 
 
 His judgments are clear as meridian light, 
 And the branch of his root shall flourish long. 
 
 Psai,m XXXVIII. 
 
 CO Rebuke me not nor chasten me, 
 In Thy displeasure, Lord ! 
 But let a frail transgressor be 
 To virtue's path restored. 
 
 My heart like grass is withered up 
 Sorrow my strength destroys ; 
 
 Sin's bitter drop within my cup, 
 Life's sparkling draught alloys. 
 
 50 
 
Hymns. 
 
 In vain my spirit seeks repose 
 From all its worldly cares ; 
 
 Mine adversaries round me close, 
 They compass me with snares. 
 
 My friends and kinsmen stand aloof, 
 
 And mock me from afar ; 
 My soul, untouched by their reproof, 
 
 Turns to its guiding Star. 
 
 For with unbroken trust will I 
 In Thee, my God ! confide, 
 
 Who deigns the meek to dignify, 
 The arrogant to chide. 
 
 C*2 Though I from kindred meet but scorn, 
 And am by parents left forlorn ; 
 Still my heart, absolved from wrong, 
 Lifts to God its grateful song. 
 
 Thy countenance, celestial Sire ! 
 With courage shall my soul inspire. 
 Meekly man's contempt to bear, 
 And all worldly woe and care. 
 
 Mark him* from whom all Israel sprang ; 
 Keenly he feels the parting pang, 
 When from kindred far removed, 
 And from childhood's home beloved. 
 
 Then was the angel's ladder brought 
 Before the dreaming exile's thought, 
 Which the righteous soul might teach 
 How the throne of God to reach. 
 
 From base to summit, the blest youth 
 Beheld progressive steps to truth, 
 Beaming with immortal bands 
 That reveal their Maker's plans. 
 
 * Genesis, chap, xxxvii, 10, 17. 
 
 51 
 
Hymns. 
 
 These to the sleeper heaven ope, 
 Whence issue thrilling words of hope : 
 "Son of man ! I am with thee 
 Wheresoever thou mayst flee." 
 
 And is not God's paternal tone 
 
 To Jacob's chosen offspring known ? 
 
 Is there no celestial gate 
 
 To the House we consecrate ? 
 
 Devotion here a ladder rears, 
 Whose golden steps are guileless prayers 
 These will the angel-forms disclose, 
 When the soul here seeks repose. 
 
 Therefore in filial trust will I 
 To Thee, my God, in sorrow fly : 
 If, though wounded and forlorn, 
 In my heart guilt hides no thorn. 
 
 Psalm xui. v. 11. 
 
 CA "Why art thou cast down, my soul?" 
 
 Does not a God in heaven reign, 
 And each human lot control, 
 
 Whether with pleasure fraught or pain ? 
 Will He not life's bark conduct, 
 
 Tho' darkness hides the treach'rous shoal 
 That thy passage would obstruct ? 
 
 "Why art thou cast down, my soul ?" 
 
 "Why art thou disquieted ?*' 
 
 Terror his bosom agitates 
 Who in sin has rioted, 
 
 And Heaven's wrath anticipates ; 
 
 52 
 
Hymns. 
 
 But he whose breast is free from guilt, 
 Undaunted hears His thunders roll, 
 
 His trust on grace divine is built ; 
 What disquiets thee, my soul ? 
 
 "Oh ! forever hope in God !" 
 
 Who has countless suns created, 
 And enamelled earth's green sod 
 
 By their beams illuminated ; — 
 Who from ruin joy can bring 
 
 To the believer's blest abode, 
 And make the mourner's heart to sing ; 
 
 "Oh ! forever hope in God." 
 
 "Thou shalt praise and thank Him yet !" 
 
 Joyfully to Him confessing, 
 Thou in seeming blight hast met 
 
 Oft a parent's real blessing, — 
 Him who, on the grave's dark brink, 
 
 Has salvation's fountain set, 
 That each godly soul may drink : 
 
 "Thou shalt praise and thank Him yet. : 
 
 "My support and help art Thou," 
 
 Lord ! when clouds of sadness lower, 
 Rock of my defence art Thou, 
 
 O gracious God ! in peril's hour. 
 Star to star and deep to deep 
 
 Thy providence do e' er avow ; 
 My song with theirs shall concert keep ; 
 
 "My support and help art Thou." 
 
 Cj C When grief on the heart has weighed 
 Till its finest chords are hushed, 
 And feelings that hope once swayed, 
 
 By clamorous cares are crushed : 
 Remember, God most prizes 
 Those whom His rod chastises. 
 
 53 
 
Hymns. 
 
 When man no respite taketh 
 From trouble, pain, or sorrow, 
 
 But from brief slumber waketh 
 To toils and cares each morrow : 
 
 To God if he still turneth, 
 
 His trust God's blessing earneth. 
 
 When, by the world neglected, 
 Alone thou bravest dangers ; 
 
 When those thy heart selected, 
 
 From friends are changed to strangers 
 
 Look ! lorn pilgrim, look above 
 
 For better life and stronger love. 
 
 And oh ! when death advances, 
 
 Tremble not at the vision, 
 But meet with smiling glances, 
 
 That angel of transition, 
 Whose scythe the fetter cleaveth, 
 That thy bruised spirit grieveth. 
 
 LOVE OF GOD. 
 
 Cf. Oh ! love the Lord with all thy heart ; 
 Its best affections sacrifice, 
 Rather than from His law depart, 
 Who is most holy, just, and wise. 
 
 Oh ! love the Lord with all thy soul, 
 Which bears a principle divine, 
 
 That shall beyond its human goal 
 Among angelic natures shine. 
 
 Oh ! love the Lord with all thy might ; 
 
 For He has made thy spirit strong, 
 Firmly to wrestle for the right, 
 
 And fearlessly resist the wrong. 
 54 
 
Hymns. 
 
 Oh ! love the Lord ! to Him devote 
 
 Thy time, thy treasure, and thy thought ; 
 
 Let these each holy scheme promote, 
 By which salvation may be wrought. 
 
 Oh ! love the Lord ! who, from thy birth 
 To life's last moment, naught denies, 
 
 And after death commands the earth 
 To yield the spirit to the skies. 
 
 GRATITUDE TOWARDS GOD, 
 
 EJ With ardent love and reverence deep, 
 
 We bow before Thee, gracious Lord ; 
 Whose marvels we in memory keep, 
 
 Whose mercies on our hearts record ; 
 And with a fervent gratitude, 
 Praise Thee for gifts each day renewed. 
 
 For that first life, from dust created, 
 Which, though fragile as the flowers, 
 
 By Thine own image animated, 
 O'er the dust in triumph towers : 
 
 For bounties every day renewed, 
 
 Father ! accept our gratitude. 
 
 For verdant earth for ever teeming 
 With beautiful and balmy forms ; 
 
 For light, from star and planet streaming, 
 Whose glow all nature cheers and warms : 
 
 For blessings every day renewed, 
 
 Father ! accept our gratitude. 
 
 For memory's amazing powers, 
 Long buried treasures to restore, 
 
 And make felicity's dead flowers 
 
 Bloom in her atmosphere once more : 
 
 For blessings every day renewed, 
 
 Father ! accept our gratitude. 
 
 55 
 
Hymns. 
 
 For conscience, every thought arresting, 
 
 Its purity to scrutinize ; 
 By virtue's moral standard testing 
 
 The good or ill that in it lies ; 
 For bounties every day renewed, 
 Father ! accept our gratitude. 
 
 But chiefly for that love paternal 
 
 Which for Thy children hath ordained 
 
 A second life in realms eternal, 
 
 If faith on earth their souls sustained : 
 
 For an existence thus renewed, 
 
 O God ! accept our gratitude. 
 
 CO To man with reason's gift endued, 
 The pleasing task pertains, 
 Of pouring forth his gratitude 
 In pure and pious strains. 
 
 L,o ! how the branches of a tree 
 Back to its root convey 
 
 The sap that gave vitality 
 
 To blossom, fruit, and spray. 
 
 From mute, external nature, then, 
 
 A gentle lesson learn ; 
 With filial love, ye sons of men, 
 
 Parental care return. 
 
 Let gratitude within each breast 
 Exert its high control ; 
 
 Its presence, like an angel guest, 
 Shall sanctify the soul. 
 
 Canst thou, O Jeshurun ! forget 
 Thy Benefactor's claim? 
 
 The God who o'er all others set 
 Thy nation, faith and name ? 
 56 
 
Hymns. 
 
 Oh ! let us in His praise unite, 
 Who gave with liberal hand 
 
 Life, liberty, and moral light, 
 His law to understand. 
 
 SUBMISSION TO THE WILL OF GOD. 
 
 CQ God Supreme ! to Thee I pray, 
 Let my lips be taught to say, 
 Whether good or ill may flow, 
 Hallelujah, be it so ! 
 
 What Thy wisdom may dictate 
 Let Thy servant vindicate ; 
 Though it may my hopes o'erthrow, 
 Hallelujah, be it so ! 
 
 Friends may falsify my trust, 
 Kindred also prove unjust, 
 Wound my heart and chill its glow, — 
 Hallelujah, be it so ! 
 
 Health and comfort may decline, 
 Why at this should I repine ? 
 Both to Thee, my God, I owe, 
 Hallelujah, be it so ! 
 
 When by disappointment stung, 
 Hard it is for human tongue 
 Still to say, though tears may flow, 
 Hallelujah, be it so ! 
 
 Yet, from Mercy's aid shall spring 
 Strength of spirit still to sing 
 'Mid bereavement, pain, and woe, 
 Hallelujah, be it so ! 
 
 fi A Oh ! that on morning's dewy wings 
 I from the world might flee away ; 
 And thus escape the bosom-stings 
 Fate may inflict some future day. 
 57 
 
Hymns- 
 
 And is it virtue's part to shrink 
 
 From aught that Heaven may ordain ? 
 
 Shall man, the first and brightest link 
 In animated nature's chain, 
 
 Accept the gifts of grace divine, 
 Yet murmur at the mingled ill ? 
 
 Nor patiently his soul resign 
 To God's unalterable will ? 
 
 Mortal ! thy impious wish recall, 
 Thy spirit arm with fortitude ; 
 
 Let guilt alone thy breast appal, 
 
 Tho' thorns be in thy pathway strewed. 
 
 Prostrate thyself before the Lord, 
 Ask not from pain or woe to fly ; 
 
 But that He will that strength accord 
 Which triumphs o'er calamity. 
 
 /C-1 Draw nigh, O Lord ! unto my soul ; 
 Compassionate and kind, 
 Thou only canst the grief control 
 Within its depths confined. 
 
 How long, how deeply I have mourned, 
 No human tongue can tell ; 
 
 For from a heartless world I turned 
 To weep but not rebel. 
 
 No ! ne'er have I, with lip profane, 
 
 Presumed to ask my God 
 Why I the bitter cup should drain, 
 
 Why writhe beneath the rod. 
 
 The hand of Mercy well I knew 
 No burthen would impose, 
 
 That man's endurance could subdue, 
 If faith her aid bestows. 
 58 
 
Hymns. 
 
 Crushed are my hopes, my kindred gone 
 
 Before me to the tomb ; 
 And thou alone, most Holy One, 
 
 Canst dissipate my gloom. 
 
 The arrow in my bosom lies ; 
 
 But stricken hearts have learned, 
 That oft to "blessings in disguise," 
 
 Misfortunes have been turned. 
 
 £ty I wept when from my eager grasp, 
 The hollow toys of fortune fell ; 
 Nor would that Holy Book unclasp, 
 Where purer, brighter treasures dwell. 
 
 There came another heavy stroke, — 
 Those I loved from earth departed : 
 
 Yet were the words religion spoke 
 Lost upon the broken-hearted. 
 
 I dared that Providence distrust, 
 From whom calamities had flowed ; 
 
 Forgetting as I bowed to dust, 
 
 Whose hand past blessings had bestowed, 
 
 But suddenly, as from a dream, 
 Humbled and self-rebuked I woke ; 
 
 My spirit then saw Mercy's beam. 
 And heard the words that wisdom spoke. 
 
 How long wilt thou, O child of clay ! 
 
 Thy Maker's frown in trials see ? 
 Nor mark His smile in every ray 
 
 That brightens thy prosperity ? 
 
 I wept again ; but blest the rod 
 Against whose chast'ning I rebelled, 
 
 And praised, with equal zeal, my God 
 For what He gave and what withheld. 
 59 
 
63 
 
 Hymns. 
 
 O Thou ! in whom the power dwells 
 
 To heal or wound, to save or slay, 
 Whose hand alone the mandate seals 
 
 That hastens or arrests decay, — 
 Let me, with pious fortitude, 
 
 Thy dispensations justify, 
 And in each great vicissitude, 
 
 With perfect faith on Thee rely. 
 
 Oh ye ! who have consigned to dust 
 
 Some darling object of your care, 
 Fail not in Heaven still to trust, 
 
 Whose Mercy will your loss repair ; 
 Nor let the bitter cup in vain 
 
 Be tendered to your trembling lips ; 
 For God, with beneficial pain, 
 
 Thus of its pride the spirit strips. 
 
 Mortals presume to call their own 
 
 Blessings vouchsafed by grace divine ; 
 Not as a gift but as a loan, 
 
 Father ! will I consider mine. 
 And when Thou wiliest to recall 
 
 All that on earth I love the best, 
 Before Thy footstool I will fall, 
 
 And bow to Thy supreme behest. 
 
 The messengers of death surround 
 
 Alike the palace and the cot ; 
 Nor king, nor vassal can be found 
 
 Who shall escape the common lot. 
 Let mighty conquerors declare, 
 
 If they can with disease contend, 
 Nor in their final struggle share 
 
 The pangs that meaner bosoms rend. 
 
 Pilgrims ! whose aggregate of days, 
 With vast eternity compared , 
 
 But as a fleeting moment weighs, 
 For the last hour be prepared ; 
 60 
 
Hymns. 
 
 Wrestle with sin, watch, worship, praise, 
 And glorify the L,ord your God, 
 
 Who shall to life eternal raise 
 
 The saints that sleep beneath the sod. 
 
 /ZA ' 'Affliction cometh not from dust, 
 Nor trouble from the ground ; ' ' 
 But from a Source all-wise and just, 
 A God with mercy crowned. 
 
 The heavy hand from heaven came, 
 That on thy heart is pressed ; 
 
 But, oh ? remember 'tis the same 
 By which thou oft art blessed. 
 
 Hast thou, in looking o'er the list 
 Of friends and kindred dear, 
 
 The names of many loved and missed, 
 That were but lately there ? 
 
 O, selfish mourner ! weep no more 
 
 For spirits disenthralled, 
 For those who mortals were before, 
 But now are angels called. 
 
 Wouldst thou, who stand est on the brink 
 
 Of the sepulchral sod, 
 To suff'ring clay those souls relink 
 
 That have escaped to God ? 
 
 Rather than lower these to thee, 
 
 Let faith exalt thy mind, 
 In death God's delegate to see, 
 
 Who will the severed bind. 
 
 All terror from thy thought dismiss ; 
 
 For on His wings alone 
 The righteous leave the grave's ab\^ss, 
 
 To reach their Father's throne. 
 61 
 
65 
 
 Hymns. 
 
 Healer of the wounded heart ! 
 
 Hearer of the mourner's prayer ! 
 Fortitude to me impart, 
 
 Life's vicissitudes to bear. 
 
 Let me be possessed alone 
 
 Of the wealth that wisdom yields, 
 Such as leads to Heaven's throne, 
 
 Such as virtue's stamp reveals. 
 
 What is knowledge but the light 
 From Omnipotence derived ? 
 
 Truth, by whose reflection bright, 
 Faith and hope are e'er revived ? 
 
 Grant, O Lord ! above all gifts 
 Understanding may be mine, 
 
 Such as human nature lifts 
 Up to that which is divine. 
 
 Then what mercy hath decreed 
 Will be rightly understood ; 
 
 That no heart is doomed to bleed 
 But for some determined good. 
 
 (L(L Lord ! let Thy countenance now shine 
 Upon Thy creature's clouded sense ; 
 That I my spirit may resign 
 To all Thou wiliest to dispense. 
 
 That, struggling in the depths of woe, 
 I may not to despondence yield ; 
 
 But, while affliction's waters flow, 
 Praise my Redeemer, Rock, and Shield, 
 
 Let sorrow to my stricken heart, 
 Through faith, be ever sanctified ; 
 
 Let grief perform an angel's part, 
 And unto Thee the mourner guide. 
 
 62 
 
Hymns. 
 
 Alas ! what fragile props indeed 
 Doth human nature rest upon ; 
 
 Its staff is but a broken reed, 
 
 By death in one brief hour withdrawn. 
 
 Draw nigh to me, O gracious God ! 
 
 No more let my affections cleave 
 To earth's frail idols, which the sod 
 
 Is ever open to receive. 
 
 Sire, eternal and supreme ! 
 
 To Thee my trembling voice I raise, 
 Praying Thou wilt with mercy's beam 
 
 Enlighten all my future ways. 
 
 £Jl Despond not, O my heart ! 
 But firmly bear thy part 
 
 In life's severe probation ; 
 The path by virtue trod, 
 Though rugged, leads to God, 
 
 My Rock and my salvation. 
 
 Banish thy secret grief, 
 Earth's pilgrimage is brief, 
 
 Its turmoils evanescent ; 
 And when the flesh decays, 
 God's word the hope conveys, 
 
 Of happiness incessant. 
 
 The innocent shrink not 
 From their appointed lot ; 
 
 But, in the deepest sorrow, 
 Believe that heaven's light 
 Follows fate's starless night, 
 
 To gild the unborn morrow. 
 63 
 
Hymns. 
 
 Lord ! though my cares increase, 
 Oh ! grant me inward peace 
 
 And pious resignation ; 
 Let all I may endure, 
 Render my spirit pure, 
 
 And worthy of salvation. 
 
 /CO Many are the pains and sorrows 
 
 Life has yet for me in store ; 
 But from faith my spirit borrows 
 
 Strength, its trials to endure. 
 Through darkest clouds bright sunbeams break 
 Lord ! Thou wilt not Thy child forsake ! 
 
 Though falsehood, with envenomed dart, 
 
 May my innocence assail, 
 It cannot long affect my heart, 
 
 Shielded by religion's mail, 
 Nor thence the sweet conviction take, 
 God ne'er will virtue's cause forsake. 
 
 Though all I love and cherish sink 
 
 Prematurely in the grave, 
 In woe I will not cease to think : 
 
 Mercy smiteth but to save. 
 The dead will in God's kingdom wake ; 
 The living He will not forsake. 
 
 Though death in frightful form appear. 
 
 'Gainst my life to lift his scythe, 
 My mind shall triumph over fear, 
 
 Though the frailer flesh may writhe, 
 Its perfect trust this cannot shake ; 
 The faithful God will not forsake. 
 
 64 
 
Hymns. 
 
 Omnipotent ! Thou art with me 
 
 In tears and tribulation ; 
 Creator ! I submit to Thee 
 
 In every dispensation. 
 My soul Thy essence doth partake ; 
 This, Father ! Thou wilt not forsake. 
 
 /CQ When I would smile, remembrance brings 
 A thousand sad and bitter things, 
 Vexations, crosses, wrongs and woes, 
 That blighted hope and broke repose. 
 Heavenly Sire ! Holy One ! 
 When shall I say, Thy will be done ! 
 
 I mourned for one, who like a twin, 
 
 Shared every thought that passed within ; 
 
 "Oh ! would that I might die for thee," 
 
 Was echoed in my agony. 
 
 Heavenly Sire ! Holy One ! 
 
 I should have said, Thy will be done ! 
 
 Time brought me to the Lord, my Shield, 
 Whose help my wounds had scarcely healed, 
 When suif'rings, various and deep, 
 Destroyed my health and banished sleep ; 
 Heavenly Sire ! Holy One ! 
 My words were not, Thy will be done ! 
 
 I saw my kindred's fortunes changed, 
 The feelings of my friends estranged ; 
 In silence I was doomed to grieve 
 O'er wants my hand could not relieve. 
 Heavenly Sire ! Holy One ! 
 I said not yet, Thy will be done ! 
 
 65 
 
Hymns. 
 
 How weak in faith must I have been ; 
 
 How led by sorrow into sin, 
 
 In trial ne'er to recognise 
 
 The seraph mercy in disguise. 
 
 Heavenly Sire ! Holy One J 
 
 My heart now says, Thy will be done ! 
 
 *7A God of the universe J unfailing friend 
 
 Of all who meekly at Thy footstool bend, 
 In pious gratitude for blessings gained, 
 Or resignation to the ills ordained, — 
 
 Oh ! grant me firmness in the hour of woe, 
 To bless the being who has dealt the blow ; 
 And in the furnace, with unceasing prayer, 
 Avert the evil promptings of despair. 
 
 Hast Thou withdrawn the authors of my birth ? 
 Recalled my dearest kindred from the earth ? 
 Though nature may her tearful tribute claim, 
 Still let the voice of faith exalt Thy name. 
 
 God of the universe ! at Thy command, 
 
 The sun himself and all the starry band 
 
 Shall, like the human frame, at last decay, 
 
 Nor leave, from globes dissolved, one ling'ringray, 
 
 All, all must perish by progressive blight, 
 Or sudden failure of the vital light ; 
 What unction then shall be to mourners left, 
 Of their material treasures thus bereft ? 
 
 Graven on rocks with pen of diamond point, 
 Axe words that shall like balm their wounds anoint: 
 The soul of man o'er ruined worlds shall spring, 
 And with immortal hosts Thy glories sing. 
 
 66 
 
Hymns. 
 
 ^J'i Frail, feeble, inefficient man ! 
 
 In one thing only art thou strong ; 
 In will, to thwart thy Maker's plan, 
 In deed, to execute the wrong. 
 
 Unreal glory and false shame, 
 
 By turns thy heart and mind divide ; 
 
 The first is found in wealth or fame, 
 The last is only wounded pride. 
 
 The just who doth the poor redress. 
 
 Below the judge corrupt is placed ; 
 And friends untitled please thee less 
 
 Than strangers that with rank are graced. 
 
 The majesty of mortal kings, 
 
 To thee is ever sanctified ; 
 Yet from thy lips arraignment springs 
 
 Of God, who doth o'er all preside. 
 
 O shallow worldling ! when they smite, 
 In silence thou receivest the blow ; 
 
 Yet question' st thy Creator's right 
 The stroke corrective to bestow. 
 
 Thou dar'st not in familar tone 
 To princes of this world appeal ; 
 
 And yet upon the great Unknown 
 Call lightly in thy woe or weal. 
 
 The Lord's anointed is not he 
 Who in a robe of state appears ; 
 
 It is the pious, pure and free, 
 
 Whose spirit virtue's ermine wears. 
 
 Frail, feeble, inefficient man ! 
 
 Oh pray ! that thou be ever strong 
 In will, to prosecute God's plan, 
 
 In deed, for e'er to shun the wrong. 
 67 
 
72 
 
 Hymns. 
 
 My God ! my God ! to Thee I cling 
 
 In sorrow's trying hour ; 
 Solace from Thee alone must spring, 
 
 Blest and benignant Power ! 
 
 I know there's mercy in the stroke 
 
 That bows me to the dust, 
 It frees me from my worldly yoke, 
 
 And wakens self -distrust. 
 
 I feel that faith her tower builds 
 
 On life's most dreary spot ; 
 Her beam the couch of suff 'ring gilds, 
 
 And cheers the darkest lot. 
 
 The wounds that from Thy hand divine, 
 
 In meekness we receive, 
 The spirit will at last refine, 
 
 And without blemish leave. 
 
 Boast not, O man ! that thou art free 
 
 From salutary pain, 
 Which well-endured will prove to thee 
 
 A glory and a gain. 
 
 DUTIES TOWARDS OURSELVES. 
 SELF-KNOWLEDGE. 
 
 *J*1 While man explores, with curious eye, 
 The works of nature and of art, 
 He passeth real wisdom by. 
 
 Nor cares to read the human heart. 
 
 A stranger to himself alone, 
 
 He walketh forth in worldly guise ; 
 
 Nor wouldst thou in his lofty tone 
 The child of frailty recognize. 
 68 
 
Hymns. 
 
 Yet pause, O man ! in thy career, 
 And search the chambers of thy soul ; 
 
 For passions dark and deep are there, 
 That spurn at reason's weak control. 
 
 A thirst for blood, for gold, for fame, 
 Pollutes thee, yet thou know'st it not ; 
 
 Because it borrows glory's name, 
 And sheds false lustre on thy lot. 
 
 Seek piety — self-knowledge seek, 
 Their guidance ask to virtue's road ; 
 
 On thee will Heaven's light then break, 
 And thou wilt know and bless thy God, 
 
 SELF-EXAMINATION. 
 
 *7 A Descend into thyself, my soul ! 
 And ask religion's aid 
 To search thy chambers and control 
 The passions there arrayed. 
 
 E'en from the cradle to the grave, 
 God heareth frailty's cry : 
 
 Nor can the voice of reason crave 
 What mercy will deny. 
 
 Oh ! ever prone is mortal man 
 
 To self-deceit and sin ; 
 And he who would reform his plan, 
 
 Must turn his eye within. 
 
 For often vice, with specious art, 
 Will virtue's tone affect, 
 
 Deceive the sense, deprave the heart, 
 And riot there unchecked. 
 
 69 
 
Hymns. 
 
 Then firmly watch and freely probe 
 
 The slightest moral wound, 
 And boldly rend deception's robe 
 
 That hides what is unsound. 
 
 Long hast Thou taught Thy servant, Lord ! 
 
 That trust and timely prayer 
 Will to the spirit strength afford, 
 
 Such discipline to bear. 
 
 The balm that heals the sinner's hurt 
 
 Springs from a source divine ; 
 O God ! regard not my desert, 
 
 But let that balm be mine. 
 
 *7C Why, O heedless mortal ! dost thou fly 
 So lightly o'er life's rapid stream. 
 While its shores are briefly passing by, 
 
 Like the dim shadows of a dream ? 
 Can thy spirit be a stranger, 
 To that current's depth and danger ? 
 
 Why, O child of pride ! wilt thou not pause, 
 Earth's tangled pathway to explore? 
 
 On to ruin that bold pilgrim draws, 
 Who in his own strength rests secure ; 
 
 Nor by self -investigation 
 
 Arms his senses 'gainst temptation. 
 
 Daily of myself should I inquire : 
 Have I fulfilled my being's end ? 
 
 Is it e'er my heart's supreme desire, 
 With heaven all its thoughts to blend ? 
 
 Ah ! woe is me ! I dare not say 
 
 Earth does not lead them far astray. 
 
 70 
 
Hymns. 
 
 Have I in that first law delighted, 
 
 Which doth false gods to man forbid ? 
 
 Or, while my lip that law recited, 
 Within my breast some idol hid ? 
 
 Oh ! that I could in truth declare : 
 
 One God alone is graven there ! 
 
 Precepts to brotherhood pertaining, 
 
 Have I implicitly observed ? 
 Or my poor neighbor's love disdaining, 
 
 From God's paternal mandate swerved ? 
 Oh ! that I might indeed respond : 
 I have not broken nature's bond. 
 
 When felicit3 r was changed to woe, 
 
 Did I still glorify my God ? 
 Or was faith, that man should ne'er forego, 
 
 Relaxed beneath His chast'ning rod ? 
 Alas ! my frail and feeble mind 
 Forgot past blessings, and repined. 
 
 Lord ! let this self-examination, 
 Answered fore'er in truthful tone, 
 
 Lead to the perfect reformation 
 Of sin, to which my soul is prone, 
 
 And fit it in a future state 
 
 With angels to associate. 
 
 J/Z In glory, Lord ! dost Thou appear, 
 And we the call of angels hear, 
 The holy praise of Thy great name, 
 With pious rapture thus proclaim : 
 
 Hallelujah ! 
 
 If in palaces we abide, 
 Or in rude cottages reside, 
 Among life's flowers or its weeds, 
 Still let us strew devotion's seeds. 
 
 Hallelujah ! 
 71 
 
HymNvS. 
 
 Deep in the heart let virtues dwell, 
 Like pearls within a mortal shell ; 
 What purer gems for age or youth 
 Than meekness, innocence, and truth ? 
 
 Hallelujah ! 
 
 These weigh not down the spirit's wing 
 That would to heaven's portal spring ; 
 But speed it in its upward course, 
 By dint of their own moral force ; 
 
 Hallelujah ! 
 
 O Thou ! who art the living Fount, 
 Of mercies man can never count, 
 From bonds of sin my spirit free, 
 And let it soar and sing to Thee : 
 
 Hallelujah ! 
 
 No higher privilege I claim 
 Than to extol Thy blessed name, 
 And answer, when the angels call, 
 Holy art Thou, O God of all ! 
 
 Hallelujah ! 
 
 HUMILITY. 
 
 *1*1 Hearken not, man ! to the voice of self-love ; 
 Adverse to meekness and truth it will prove : 
 Calling all puny achievements august, 
 That gild common clay or magnify dust. 
 
 Wisdom is walking for e'er by thy side, 
 Checking thy arrogance, chast'ning thy pride, 
 Bidding thee measure thy fabrics infirm 
 With works to which time can affix no term. 
 
 How will thy temples and altars compare 
 With those that nature delighted to rear ? 
 With the perfect, sublime, and vast designs 
 Of her forest, ocean, or mountain-shrines ? 
 
 72 
 
Hymns. 
 
 What is thy beauty ? the bloom of an hour ; 
 What fame's duration ? the life of a flower } 
 Genius seems ever to sing 'neath a cloud, 
 Gold cannot brighten one thread of the shroud. 
 
 Self "lauding man ! through the firmament's bars 
 List to the chorus of seraphs and stars : 
 Then will thy heart in humility's tone, 
 Bow to the world's mighty Master alone. 
 
 ^O Out of sorrow's depths I cry 
 
 To my Father, throned on high, ; 
 Mercy's hand, I humbly trust, 
 Will remove the mourner's dust, 
 While my heart repeats again, 
 Bless the Holy One, Amen ! 
 
 Should not I more favor win, 
 Than the sons of shame and sin? 
 Yet the sweets of life are theirs, 
 While my portion is but tears. 
 Wherefore have I shouted then, 
 Bless the Holy One, Amen! 
 
 What shall Heaven render thee, 
 
 Who thy neighbor's fault canst see, 
 
 Yet art sightless, as the mole, 
 
 To the blots upon thy soul? 
 
 Still unclean, though loud thy strain, 
 
 Bless the Holy One, Amen! 
 
 He who stands self -justified 
 
 In his spiritual pride, 
 
 Shall no grace from God receive, 
 
 Though he may the world deceive 
 
 By repeating o'er again, 
 
 Bless the Holy One, Amen! 
 
 73 
 
Hymns. 
 
 Genesis, Chap. xi. 
 
 *7Q On Shinar's plain see Babel's tower rise; 
 
 Woe shall the builders and their work betide! 
 For that which seeks to penetrate the skies, 
 Shall prove a ruined monument of pride. 
 
 Here let the bold trangressor read his fate, 
 
 And, trembling, pause amid his plans profane; 
 
 Confusion shall upon his deeds await, 
 
 And incomplete his daring schemes remain. 
 
 Vainly he braves the vengeance of his God. 
 
 For as a moral beacon shall he stand, 
 While many tongues shall spread his shame abroad , 
 
 His guilt proclaiming through each foreign land. 
 
 Like lofty towers, haughty hearts shall fall, 
 While humble ones to heaven shall aspire, 
 
 As they in unity of worship call, 
 
 In death and life, on one Eternal Sire. 
 
 OA My God, my Father, and my Guide! 
 On Thee for aid I call; 
 Oh! save my soul from wordly pride, 
 Which causeth man to fall. 
 
 Power is but a subtle snare, 
 
 Frail spirits to mislead; 
 Wealth, a treacherous betrayer, 
 
 Fame but a broken reed. 
 
 Against these lures, Thy servant, Lord! 
 
 For succor hath appealed, 
 Thou only canst these dangers ward, 
 
 Who art my Strength and Shield. 
 
 The storm will smite the lofty tree 
 That with its rage contends, 
 
 But leave the pliant sapling free 
 That to its fury bends. 
 
 74 
 
Hymns. 
 
 So shall the meek, who humbly strive 
 
 Thy wrath to deprecate, 
 Those blasts of adverse fate survive 
 
 Which shall the proud prostrate. 
 
 Save Israel from worldly pride, 
 All-perfect Source of grace, 
 
 And to the gates of heaven guide 
 A blind and wandering race! 
 
 CONTENTMENT. 
 
 Ol In the great scales of human life 
 God casteth good and ill, 
 The sweet and bitter, peace and strife, 
 By turns the balance fill. 
 
 Mingled is every mortal draught; 
 
 Yet thus will folly rave: 
 Wormwood alone have I e'er quaffed. 
 
 My neighbor's cup I crave. 
 
 His prayer by Providence is heard: 
 Doth he the change enjoy? 
 
 No! in his heart the gall-drop 's stirred, 
 That must all things alloy. 
 
 His competence enlarged to wealth, 
 
 Brings not expected bliss; 
 Unsated appetite and health 
 
 Have been exchanged for this. 
 
 Another of his lot complains, 
 Whom all the world thinks blest; 
 
 Mere gold his lofty soul disdains, 
 But sighs for glory's crest. 
 75 
 
Hymns. 
 
 And soon upon his brow august, 
 
 The meed of honor shines; 
 But ah! his lov'd ones lie in dust, 
 
 For these his spirit pines. 
 
 Take then, O man! the chequered lot, 
 
 To thee by God assigned; 
 Give thanks for every blessing brought, 
 
 To evil — be resigned, 
 
 QO On' whence doth human happiness arise? 
 Is it dependent upon cloudless skies? 
 Or on that changeless sunshine of the soul, 
 That calm content derived from self-control? 
 
 Light of all seasons, in life's wintry scene, 
 As in its buoyant spring-time still serene, 
 Its tempered glory radiates for e'er 
 From virtue's orbit and religion's sphere. 
 
 Let us not hope contentment's beam to find 
 In a restless and ambitious mind; 
 It rests not on that rainbow of an hour, 
 The gold and purple robe of worldly pow'r. 
 
 It gildeth not the godless dome of pride, 
 Nor in the sordid bosom will abide; 
 But as the day-star of each mortal shines, 
 Who in full trust his heart to Heaven resigns 
 
 O Thou! whose eye all human wants can see, 
 Grant that its influence may govern me; 
 Let that blest ray of peace my soul illume, 
 Nor wane till I descend into the tomb. 
 
 0*5 On dim futurity, with idle aim, 
 
 Man's restless mind is ever prone to gaze, 
 To know what portion he may chance to claim 
 Of all the good and ill that fate displays. 
 
 76 
 
Hymns- 
 
 Impious waste alike of time and thought! 
 
 Insane attempt, that curtain dark to rend, 
 The hand of Providence itself hath wrought, 
 
 To veil the evils that o'er life impend. 
 
 Unwise and rash! foreknowledge, if possest, 
 
 Would aggravate inevitable woe, 
 Would make the present period unblest, 
 
 And crush the nerve that else might brave the blow . 
 
 Thus, too, would promised pleasure lose its zest, 
 Forestalled by expectation long and keen: 
 
 Oh! then let Heaven's wisdom be confest, 
 
 That doth from mortal eyes the future screen. 
 
 How grateful is my heart to Thee, O Lord! 
 
 For this concealment of life's chequered lines; 
 No tongue can utter, and no pen record 
 
 The depth of all Thy merciful designs. 
 
 Proverbs, Chap, xxvii, v. 1. 
 
 OA Let me for present hours borrow 
 The garland pleasure wears; 
 To God I'll dedicate the morrow, 
 And mourn for misspent years. 
 
 Half of thy prayer, to thy own sorrow, 
 
 Is granted, child of mirth! 
 The wreath is thine, but e'er the morrow 
 
 'Twill lie with thee in earth. 
 
 The rich man 'neath his purple awning 
 
 Contented sits at eve, 
 Nor dreams the sepulchre is yawning, 
 
 His ashes to receive. 
 
 77 
 
Hymns. 
 
 A widow lifts the voice of mourning, 
 
 For him who yesterday 
 Vowed with another sun's returning, 
 
 His pious debts to pay. 
 
 "The world with graves is perforated," 
 
 But these beheld them not, 
 Their hearts with luxury elated, 
 
 Death's dwelling-place forgot. 
 
 O Israel! the lesson borrow, 
 
 Nor, for earth's brightest things, 
 
 Defer to an uncertain morrow 
 Praise to the Kiug of kings. 
 
 Of Oh! where is he who yesterday 
 
 Stood erect in manhood's prime? 
 Weep! for the shadow of decay 
 Rests upon the child of time; 
 Weep for creation's noble chief, 
 Whose vital tenure is so brief. 
 
 Woe to the man, who in a cloudless morning 
 Promise of a golden sunset sees! 
 
 Nor heeds experience that whispers warning, 
 "Peril lurks in every passing breeze." 
 
 From the same elements may spring 
 Balm, and bloom, and mortal blight; 
 
 Yet we watch not time's fleet wing, 
 But pursue some vain delight. 
 
 For changing seasons unprepared, 
 
 Though every leaf of life is seared, 
 
 O shame! thus to foil our Maker's intent, 
 
 Who moral sagacity gave; 
 That we might improve to their utmost extent, 
 
 Years that pass between birth and the grave. 
 
 78 
 
Hymns. 
 
 Waste not the present in regret 
 
 For omissions of the past; 
 Bright blossoms may be gathered yet, 
 
 Through eternity to last, 
 These are virtues — angel flowers, — 
 Natives of celestial bowers. 
 
 He that to immortality aspires, 
 
 Must his heart to Heaven dedicate, 
 
 And all its thoughts, its feelings, and desires, 
 By the laws of mercy regulate. 
 
 FOR THE SICK. 
 
 O/C Hear my voice and grant my pray'r, 
 O Thou life-sustaining God! 
 Heal my flesh, my spirit cheer, 
 That I may Thy mercy laud. 
 
 Trespasses that seemed but light, 
 
 When my health and strength remained, 
 
 Now that these have taken flight, 
 All the weight of guilt have gained. 
 
 Oh! that I, in hours past, 
 
 With my soul had oft communed; 
 
 Slumb'ring passions thence to cast, 
 That awaken but to wound. 
 
 Lengthen out the little span 
 
 Of Thy worshipper, O Lord! 
 Nor, till I reform my plan, 
 
 Cleave for e'er the vital cord, 
 
 As the dial's shadow turned 
 At the pray'r of Judah's king, 
 
 Let not my appeal be spurned, 
 Save me still Thy praise to sing. 
 79 
 
Hymns. 
 
 PREPARATION FOR DEATH. 
 
 o^7 O thou! possest of health and bloom, 
 
 Think how they once in others glowed; 
 And yet, how many to the tomb 
 
 Passed, unprepared, to meet their God. 
 
 Pilgrim! "thy house in order set!" 
 Thy soul for sudden change prepare, 
 
 Ere thou, to cancel nature's debt, 
 Art forced into an unknown sphere. 
 
 To every fleeting day then link 
 Some blest remembrance as it flies, 
 
 Some deed that on the grave's dark brink 
 To soothe thy conscience may arise. 
 
 Keep mercy ever in thy sight, 
 
 Whether thou judgest friend or foe, 
 
 Her mantle, pure as heaven's light, 
 Around each erring spirit throw. 
 
 Let faith triumphant o'er all things. 
 
 Virtue teach and self-denial, 
 And firmly shall her angel wings, 
 
 Bear thee through life's stormy trial. 
 
 Mortal! be warned, while yet thy prime 
 By dread disease is unassailed; 
 
 Oh! trust not to the future time, 
 
 Whose aspect God himself hath veiled. 
 
 DUTIES TOWARDS OTHERS. 
 
 I. TRUTH. 
 
 OO Let the standard of truth by Judah be planted, 
 Where'er he may chance to abide; 
 Let praise to the God of his father be chanted, 
 Though strangers his worship deride. 
 
 80 
 
Hymns. 
 
 Oh! fail not to foster each pious emotion 
 
 That reason or faith generates; 
 But freely and faerlessly breathe your devotion 
 
 To God, who the soul animates. 
 
 How weak is the sceptre of temporal power, 
 
 The spirit of truth to o'er throw! 
 Sublimely o'er time doth her majesty tower, 
 
 Eternity's herald below. 
 
 Her law is a lamp to the feet of each mortal 
 That else would in dark places stray; 
 
 Its light radiates immortality's portal, 
 Nor wanes, though a world may decay. 
 
 Oh! follow her path, and forsake that of error, 
 All ye who salvation would seek; 
 
 Nor ever, through danger, through shame, or 
 through terror, 
 Her glorious ordinance break. 
 
 OQ Early and late my God I seek, 
 Before Him stand and pray; 
 Yet find all human words too weak 
 His wonders to portray. 
 
 I love to see the morning light 
 Break forth to gladden earth, 
 
 L,ike charity, that takes delight 
 In cheering humble worth. 
 
 And when the glorious star of eve 
 Ascends the vault on high, 
 
 The first to reach, the last to leave 
 Its station in the sky. 
 
 I think of hope, whose rays serene 
 The dawn of life illume, 
 
 And still in its decline are seen 
 lingering above the tomb. 
 81 
 
Hymns. 
 
 But brighter, purer, more divine, 
 Is truth than either orb; 
 
 Let this, O God! forever shine, 
 And all my soul absorb. 
 
 HONESTY. 
 
 QA Father! will abstinence, or prayer, or song, 
 Open for us celestial portals? 
 Or as atonement serve for any wrong 
 Committed 'gainst our fellow-mortals? 
 
 Oh, no! the key of mercy's golden gates 
 Turns when touched by penitential tears; 
 
 And joy alike the contrite soul awaits, 
 
 And the meek, that no deep blemish bears. 
 
 Thou lovest him who faithful, true, and just, 
 
 Even when by poverty beset, 
 Would perish rather than betray his trust, 
 
 Or the claims of probity forget. 
 
 The honor Thou as pure dost recognise, 
 Builds not on its predecessor's fame; 
 
 Nobility in its own spirit lies, 
 Clad in virtue's ermine — a good name. 
 
 Thy image we behold in human love, 
 In human justice trace Thy form divine; 
 
 The soul's high statue, soaring high above 
 All mean artifice and low design. 
 
 From all that their integrity might blight, 
 God of mercy! Thy weak children shield; 
 
 Most sacred let them hold each other's right, 
 Nor to guileful passions ever yield. 
 
 82 
 
Hymns. 
 
 JUSTICE. 
 Deuteronomy, Chap. i. 
 Qi The prophet to the people said, 
 
 (Whose numbers none might count,) 
 Full long have ye, O Israel! stayed 
 In Horeb's marble mount. 
 
 Accomplished are your holy wars, 
 Ye tread the promised land; 
 
 Your multitudes are as the stars: 
 God's blessing's on your band. 
 
 But how can I your cumbrance bear, 
 Your burthen and your strife? 
 
 Wise men among the tribes there are 
 To govern ye through life. 
 
 Let these adjudge the Hebrew's cause, 
 The stranger's claim decide, 
 
 And in expounding Heaven's laws, 
 Heed not the person tried. 
 
 For in the eye nature's God, 
 
 Degree no favor finds, 
 Rank falls 'neath the judicial rod, 
 
 Low as the meanest minds. 
 
 Of mortal face be not afraid, 
 For judgment will descend 
 
 From Him who is in truth arrayed, 
 The pious poor man's friend. 
 
 Oh! let the modern Israelite, 
 
 Taught by the elder time, 
 Treasure this golden rule of right, 
 
 So simple, yet sublime. 
 
 When ye as arbiters are called 
 Between the small and great, 
 
 Let equity stand unappalled 
 And speak its pure dictate. 
 83 
 
Hymns. 
 
 RIGHTEOUSNESS. 
 
 Psalm xv. 
 
 QO Who, God of glory! shall be found 
 Worthy of so high a grace, 
 As e'er Thy praises to resound 
 
 In Thy holy dwelling-place, — 
 And with heaven, earth and sea, 
 Join in choral hymns to Thee? 
 
 He whose soul, all sin abhorring, 
 E'er to virtue's height aspires, 
 
 And 'gainst evil passions warring, 
 Quenches their unholy fires; 
 
 Who 'mid fortune's worst caprice, 
 
 Loses not internal peace. 
 
 Who shall in the house of prayer, 
 God supreme! Thy praise declare? 
 
 He who with forebearing meekness, 
 Guilt in others palliates. 
 
 Yet in self each lesser weakness 
 Searches out and reprobates. 
 
 He who from reproach or shame 
 
 Guards a fellow-creature's name. 
 
 Who shall in His holy place 
 Praise the Lord of life and grace? 
 
 He whose acts and meditations 
 Are alike from falsehood free, 
 
 And of truth, on all occasions, 
 Will the fearless champion be. 
 
 Who with life as soon would part, 
 
 As the angel of the heart. 
 
 Who, O God! is justified 
 In Thy temple to abide. 
 
 84 
 
93 
 
 Hymns. 
 
 He who sees in moral duty 
 The right tenor of the heart, 
 
 And in holiness a beauty, 
 
 That with time will not depart, 
 
 Virtue thus his soul must raise, 
 
 Who would his Creator praise. 
 
 FORBEARANCE. 
 
 Of all the virtues that we find 
 Promoting bliss among mankind, 
 Forbearance, (upon which depends 
 The peace of kindred and of friends,) 
 Is that which, more than all the rest, 
 Conduces to make mortals blest. 
 
 Can wit, whose tone is ever high, 
 Or beauty that enchants the eye, 
 With this domestic grace compare, 
 Which doth the robes of meekness wear? 
 Whose look serene, and language sweet, 
 Rude passion ever can defeat? 
 
 Accomplishments, however rare, 
 Do not enable us to bear 
 The wrongs, the trials, and the strife, 
 To which we are exposed through life; 
 Or cause us humbly to sustain 
 Grief, disappointment, want, or pain. 
 
 No! to this child of faith alone 
 
 Are powers of endurance known, — 
 
 A sufferance of worldly ill, 
 
 A self-denying pious will, 
 
 That malice quells, and can assuage 
 
 The fiercest mood of frantic rage. 
 
 Long, long didst Thou forbear, O God! 
 To chasten Israel with Thy rod; 
 That chosen but rebellious host, 
 
 85 
 
94 
 
 Hymns. 
 
 Thy loving kindness never lost. 
 Be patient still, almighty Sire! 
 Although their sins provoke Thine ire. 
 
 Grant me, O ever Just and Wise! 
 The virtue I most highly prize, 
 Whose placid temper and soft tone 
 I pray henceforth may be my own. 
 Forbearance grant, in deed and word, 
 To Thy frail worshiper, O Lord! 
 
 Oh! ever adverse to the scheme 
 
 Of Providence divine, 
 Is proud intolerance, whose beam 
 
 Lights but a single shrine. 
 
 One creed, one teacher, and one sect, 
 
 Its advocates uphold, 
 Regardless if a world be wrecked, 
 
 Beyond its narrow fold. 
 
 It reasons not, but strives to mock 
 
 That charitable zeal, 
 That e'en for a dissenting flock, 
 
 Kind sympathy can feel. 
 
 How patiently hast Thou, O Lord! 
 
 Discordant faiths allowed, 
 How equally dispensed reward, 
 
 Or chastisement bestowed: 
 
 Yet would the bigot sons of pride, 
 (Mere bloated worms at best,) 
 
 The movements of man's spirit guide, 
 And its free march arrest. 
 86 
 
Hymns. 
 
 Father of mercies! Thou alone 
 This blindness canst remove, 
 
 And bring us all before Thy throne, 
 In bonds of peace and love. 
 
 QC Why, O man! is not thy soul's desire 
 To virtue's excellence confined? 
 Why let sinful passions e'er conspire 
 
 To drive her from thy heart and mind! 
 So that in earth's most gifted creatures, 
 Seldom we mark her modest features. 
 
 One vain-glorious mortal oft will pray 
 To be with worldly honor crowned; 
 
 And one with the shafts of wit will play, 
 Though these the innocent may wound. 
 
 Others there are in the human fold, 
 
 Who ask of Heaven no gift but gold. 
 
 Shall a righteous neighbor then desert 
 The frailest portion of God's flock, 
 
 Nor from weak wanderers harm avert, 
 Because in evil paths they walk? 
 
 Oh! with friendly care and frequent call, 
 
 Watch and warn the erring, lest they fall. 
 
 Yea, though to the verge of vice they stray, 
 Your zealous effort ne'er suspend; 
 
 Thence, at last they may be led away, 
 And made at virtue's shrine to bend. 
 
 Pride alone fram sinners stands aloof; 
 
 I<ove e'er brings them weeping to her roof. 
 
 Forbearing love! patient, gentle, pure, 
 
 On thee the holy task devolves, 
 Peace to guilty brethren to restore, 
 
 87 
 
Hymns. 
 
 And strengthen penitent resolves; 
 In each life, howe'er depraved and dark, 
 Some bright point or moral star to mark. 
 
 Oh! let man then kindle at that light 
 Fire, his base passion to consume; 
 Then his soul may rise to virtue's height, 
 
 And God's similitude resume. 
 This blest end forbearance e'er effects, 
 And human rashness by meek counsel checks, 
 
 Genesis, Chap. xlv. 
 
 q/Z What cause hath thou; O Israel, for tears? 
 The gifts of plenty cheer thy latter years; 
 And wheresoe'er thine aged feet may rest, 
 Men shall arise to praise and call thee blest. 
 
 Ah, woe is me! the patriarch repeats, 
 Since he no more his darling Joseph greets. 
 In sorrow to the grave must I go down, 
 Nor peace, nor happiness my gray hairs crown. 
 
 And where was he, lamented thus as lost? 
 From pit and prison up to honor's post; 
 Heaven progressively the wand'rer led, 
 To bless the hands that would his blood have shed 
 
 His dreams of stars and sheaves are realized; 
 Awhile his deep emotions are disguised, 
 When at his foot-stool all his brethren fall, 
 And upon Egypt's lord for succor call. 
 
 I am that man, that brother whom ye sold! 
 Say, does my father live? Would I might fold 
 Within my arms that parent well-beloved, 
 Whose partial tenderness your envy moved! 
 
 88 
 
Hymns. 
 
 Yet, fear ye not! regret alone I feel, 
 Ye against nature should your bosom steel; 
 The hand of Mercy we may here detect, 
 From evil cause producing good effect. 
 
 O ye! who with vindictive anger burn, 
 Forbearance now from this example learn; 
 Forgive your foes, and in the part delight, 
 Their injuries with kindness to requite. 
 
 BROTHERLY LOVK. 
 
 How beautiful it is to see, 
 Brethren unite harmoniously! 
 Of kindred sympathies possest, 
 By the same joys and woes imprest. 
 
 But ah! how very slight a cause, 
 Will counteract kind nature's laws, 
 And to that dread estrangement lead, 
 Against which God and angels plead! 
 
 An unkind word, pronounced in haste, 
 Hath years of tenderness effaced, 
 Checked confidence, whose genial flow 
 Is sweeter than aught else below. 
 
 In jealousy a poison lurks, 
 That oft affection's ruin works; ••' 
 This first implants suspicion's seeds, 
 And to fraternal contest leads. 
 
 Ye brothers, who would cherish strife, 
 Oh, think of those who gave you life! 
 By whom ye were together blest, 
 Watched, prayed for, counseled and car est; 
 
 What deep reproach to these it bears, 
 What Grief entails on their gray hairs, 
 When discord on their household band, 
 Hath laid a cold and with' ring hand. 
 
 89 
 
Hymns- 
 
 Lord of the universe! we pray, 
 Thou wilt this evil put away, 
 And Grant that Isreal may be found, 
 In faith by concord ever crowned. 
 
 QQ "Let there be love!" it is the light 
 
 That makes the sphere of heaven bright, 
 First, from creative Mercy's thought, 
 By the rejoicing angels caught. 
 
 "Let there be love!" it is the beam 
 That earth from darkness shall redeem, 
 And in its mighty heart mature 
 The only bud that shall endure. 
 
 "Let there be love!" its vital ray, 
 Alone exempt from brief decay, 
 Shall in the human soul entomb 
 The gem of its immortal bloom. 
 
 "Let there be love!" its gentle tone 
 Is music heard from Mercy's throne, 
 Echoed by charity below 
 To hush the cry of guilt or woe. 
 
 "Let there be love!" blest is the creed 
 That doth to this pure issue lead, 
 And thus promotes the hallowed plan 
 Of brotherhood 'twixt man and man. 
 
 "Let there be love!" earth, air, and sea, 
 Obedience yield to this decree; 
 Woe then to reason fro ward child! 
 Whose spirit is by hate defiled. 
 
 O God! let universal love, 
 Unholy strife from earth remove, 
 And link, in one harmonious whole, 
 All human kind from pole to pole. 
 
 90 
 
Hymns. 
 
 Truly and tenderly should I 
 
 As myself my neighbor love, 
 His weal promote, his wants supply, 
 
 And with him in concord move. 
 Thus by God's benign command, 
 Clasping close the social band. 
 
 For this did Providence decree, 
 From the cradle to the tomb, 
 
 None from sorrow should be free, 
 But partake one common doom ; 
 
 That the tried and suffering heart 
 
 Might kind sympathy impart. 
 
 The poor, the rich, the meek, the proud, 
 Side by side our Father placed, 
 
 Bach with reason's power endowed, 
 Bach with his own image graced. 
 
 Who shall then with selfish aim, 
 
 Mock at man's fraternal claim? 
 
 Will destiny, that through the globe 
 
 Flings for e'er its iron barb, 
 More venerate the monarch's robe 
 
 Than the beggar's tattered garb? 
 With hand impartial, it will strike 
 Pride and poverty alike! 
 
 Oh! wherefore then as strangers treat 
 Pilgrims seeking the one road, 
 
 That leads them to the mercy-seat 
 Of a universal God? 
 
 Who alone beyond life's goal, 
 
 Shall distinguish soul from soul, 
 
 Men, who live on earth as brothers, 
 There shall find a Father's love; 
 
 And the tears here wept for others, 
 There shall pearls of ransom prove. 
 
 Mortal frailties to redeem 
 
 From the wrath of the Supreme. 
 
 91 
 
Hymns. 
 
 FILIAL LOVE. 
 
 Exodus, Chap, xx., v. 13. 
 
 When I remember, O my God! 
 
 The bounties from my birth received, 
 Knowledge that from my parents flowed, 
 Of all Thy mercies had achieved: 
 
 Those guardians, how shall I requite, 
 
 Who cherished me thro' childhood's stage? 
 
 Unless I in Thy law delight, 
 
 And shield and honor them in age; 
 
 Soften with unremitting care, 
 
 Frailties they may through life betray, 
 
 With love and reverential fear, 
 
 Their least command or wish obey. 
 
 Ye outcasts from the social pale! 
 
 Apostates from the filial creed! 
 Let Sinai's warning voice prevail, 
 
 When nature fails her cause to plead. 
 
 Bless ye the authors of your birth, 
 
 Next to your heavenly Father's praise, 
 
 The highest duty upon earth, 
 That faith enjoins or man obeys. 
 
 i Ai Intensely radiant was thy peak, 
 Majestic Horeb! on the day 
 That moral light was seen to break 
 On Israel's benighted way. 
 Hallowed sod! 
 Where a God 
 Through His delegate conveyed 
 Laws in mercy's spirit made. 
 
 List, O ye children of the earth! 
 List to the mandate of the Lord! 
 
 92 
 
102 
 
 Hymns. 
 
 Honor the sources of your birth, 
 
 And with your love their care reward 
 
 These defend 
 
 To life's end, 
 Nor your filial task relax 
 Till the grave its prey exacts. 
 
 Let grateful memory look back 
 
 To infancy's dependent hours, 
 Who drew you through its thorny track, 
 And taught you where to find its flowers? 
 Parent hearts 
 By soft arts, 
 Safe your steps through peril led , 
 And life's roses 'neath them spread. 
 
 Nature's voice, to you appealing, 
 
 Claims return for past protection, 
 Guarding, both by faith and feeling. 
 This her holiest affection. 
 Ne'er forget 
 Her just debt; 
 But, while with existence blest, 
 Fond devotion manifest. 
 
 O Lord! Thy choicest blessing yield 
 
 To our loved parents while they live; 
 And when in death theirs eyes are sealed, 
 Their souls receive, their sins forgive. 
 From the grave, 
 Father! save 
 Those who trained us, from early youth, 
 To know and love the laws of truth. 
 
 MATRIMONIAL LOVE. 
 
 Blest is the bond of wedded love, 
 
 When they who at its altar bow, 
 
 Remember that the God above 
 
 Is witness to their holy vow, — 
 93 
 
Hymns. 
 
 When they sweet counsel interchange, 
 And as each season onward rolls, 
 
 Prove that no chance can e'er estrange 
 The feeling that unites their souls. 
 
 To woman, in the stormy hour, 
 
 Doth not her stronger partner turn? 
 
 And from her spirit gather power, 
 Peril and pain alike to spurn? 
 
 And she, the gentle, tender one, 
 Whose atmosphere is purity, — 
 
 Doth she not in his love alone 
 Confide for her security? 
 
 That noble trust, O man! fulfill, 
 
 Which before heaven hath been sworn; 
 
 Cherish thy wife through good and ill, 
 Her virtues love, her frailties mourn. 
 
 Blest are the vows of wedded life, 
 
 When they from righteous lips proceed, 
 
 When free from wrath, perverseness, strife, 
 Time hallows that which God decreed. 
 
 CHARITY. 
 
 10^ O thou, whose shrine the sweetest incense bears 
 Which human gratitude for God prepares, 
 Exalted charity! in whom we trace 
 Mercy's twin -attribute and sister grace, 
 Thy name we glorify, thy praise prolong, 
 Whose power changeth mourning into song. 
 
 'Tis thine, benevolence! with soft control, 
 To draw the arrow from the stricken soul, 
 To fly unbidden to thy brother's aid, 
 And balm the wound by cruel fortune made, 
 O'er widowed worth thy shelt'ring wings to spread, 
 And cheer the drooping children of the dead. 
 
 94 
 
Hymns. 
 
 Oft by the cypress of the parent's tomb 
 The orphan's bud of hope is seen to bloom 
 Thy smile the beam, thy tear the gentle dew, 
 That brighter make the infant-blossom's hue. 
 Oh! not less kind shall mercy prove above 
 To those who follow here her law of love. 
 
 Prov., Chap, xiv., 11. 
 
 1 04 * Saw a P a * ace P rou d and high, 
 
 A work that vanity had planned, 
 Its towers pointed to the sky, 
 
 Not so its master's heart or hand. 
 
 There stood an humble mansion near, 
 And wisdom was its architect, 
 
 Pillars of holiness were there, 
 While charity its portals decked. 
 
 And worldly men, as these they past, 
 Would linger long before the first, 
 
 But look with scorn upon the last, 
 As though it were a thing accursed. 
 
 Behold! a bolt from heaven falls 
 
 And blasts the rich man's residence; 
 
 While from its neighbor's lowly walls 
 Rise songs of praise to Providence. 
 
 That house is built on barren sand 
 
 In which faith's treasures are not stored; 
 
 Nor long shall any fabric stand 
 
 Whose founder feareth not the Lord. 
 
 Job, Chap. xxix. 
 
 105 Return ' ° Lord! and let me be 
 
 As I have been in seasons past, 
 When, graciously preserved by Thee, 
 No shadow on my soul was cast. 
 95 
 
Hymns. 
 
 When firm and fearless in my youth, 
 Through darkness oft I walked abroad, 
 
 Wanting no star but perfect truth, 
 No sun to light me, but my God, 
 
 Where are the troops of flatterers now, 
 Who once my tabernacle sought? 
 
 No word of comfort they bestow 
 Upon a heart with anguish fraught. 
 
 The poor in me a father hailed, 
 And freely of my stores partook; 
 
 But since my earthly treasures failed, 
 B'en these my presence cannot brook. 
 
 Proud men and princes hold their peace, 
 When I for justice raised my voice, 
 
 And caused the orphan's tear to cease, 
 The widow's spirit to rejoice. 
 
 Yea, righteousness hath been my robe, 
 
 And Equity my diadem; 
 Yet scorners seek my wounds to probe, 
 
 And my integrity to condemn. 
 
 Oh, blest be he who, when bereaved 
 
 Of worldly substance, children, friends, 
 
 Finds balm in former good achieved, 
 And with his prayer no murmur blends. 
 
 Bouateous Father ! by what course 
 May we hope Thy grace to gain ? 
 
 Oh ? must we not, in active force, 
 All Thy laws of love maintain ? 
 
 Linked alike in mind and heart, 
 
 Should not all thy creatures live ? 
 Bidding revenge and hate depart, 
 And delighting to forgive ? 
 
 96 
 
Hymns. 
 
 Ne'er, O man! this charge foreg6; 
 
 But with unaffected zeal, 
 E'en an erring brother's woe, 
 
 Strive with gentle hand to heal. 
 
 Doth he wear the prisoner's bond? 
 
 Seek him in his dark abode, 
 Show what beams from spheres beyond, 
 
 Light the weeping pilgrim's road. 
 
 Art thou with ease and comfort blest, 
 While he languishes in need? 
 
 Cast in the field of barrenness, 
 Part of fortune's golden seed. 
 
 Welcome poor earth-mates to thy roof, 
 Share with these thy daily bread ; 
 
 Our Father never stands aloof 
 While His children thus are fed. 
 
 When thy hearth-stone brightly gloweth, 
 
 There to love an altar rear, 
 That which Providence bestoweth, 
 
 For its sacrifice prepare. 
 
 Wouldst thou please thy heavenly Sire? 
 
 Let thy mite precede thy meal; 
 Grace like this ascendeth higher 
 
 Than the lips prescribed appeal. 
 
 Be to the lame a strong support, 
 For the blind thine eyes exert: 
 
 And angels then shall make report 
 Of thy glorious desert. 
 
 Faith ever in its sacred scope 
 
 Sweet charity embraces, 
 And on it man's eternal hope 
 
 By God's commandment bases. 
 
 97 
 
Hymns. 
 
 PSAIvM XIvI. 
 
 1 07 ^* bl est ^ e ^ e W ^° ne ' er forgets the poor, 
 But with the needy freely shares his store; 
 Upon the bed of languishing and pain, 
 He shall not call upon the Lord in vain; 
 For hirn, who doth a brother's anguish feel, 
 A Father's hand shall strengthen then, and heal. 
 
 That man's name on earth shall never perish, 
 Who doth the widow cheer, the orphan cherish, 
 Who with inter grity has treasures earned, 
 That to the use of charity are turned: 
 Time shall repeat his deeds through future years, 
 And angels sing them in celestial spheres. 
 
 But, oh! let none of those who practice fraud, 
 
 Believe they can propitiate their God, 
 
 By placing in the beggar's outstretched hand, 
 
 Gold gathered up by breach of his command. 
 
 E'en mercy will refuse his gift to bless. 
 
 Who 'gainst the laws of justice doth transgress. 
 
 Let all who would their Maker's love requite, 
 Beneficence with probity unite. 
 He who created pure the human heart, 
 Meant not that these should ever dwell apart; 
 His bounty Providence will ne'er approve, 
 Who dares his neighbor's landmark to remove. 
 
 1 0<K Stretched languidly upon his crouch, 
 The child of pomp seeks rest, 
 While those who round his chamber crouch, 
 Believe him truly blest. 
 
 From these the curtained sluggard hid, 
 Seems wrapped in mimic death; 
 
 They cannot see his unclosed lid, 
 Nor mark his panting breath. 
 98 
 
Hymns- 
 
 Of precious balsams sleep alone 
 
 Baffles his costly bribe; 
 Balm to the temperate e'er known, 
 
 And to the toiling tribe. 
 
 And cannot affluence indeed 
 
 This priceless gift possess? 
 Yes! of orphan's tear take heed, 
 
 The widow's wrong redress. 
 
 Call famished brethren to thy board, 
 
 And in their blessings taste 
 A luxury wealth ne'er procured 
 
 In all its boundless waste. 
 
 The work of charity begin 
 
 That selfish ease foregoes; 
 The poor man's prayer for thee shall win 
 
 Serene and sweet repose. 
 
 Body and soul beneath thy sway 
 
 Shall healthful vigor gain, 
 And slumber, chased by sloth away, 
 
 Come to thy couch again. 
 
 109 Pray in the ni £ ht! when silence and the stars 
 
 Alone bear witness to thy holy zeal, 
 And when the morn removes light's golden bars, 
 
 Praise Nature's God who heareth man's appeal. 
 For praise, like manna, ever is most sweet, 
 
 Ere yet the spirit, like the noontide sun, 
 Wax in its worldly course to that fierce heat 
 
 By which corruption's fatal work is done. 
 And if the measure of thy blessing prove 
 
 More ample than thy neighbor's lot contains, 
 Forget not Heaven's ordinance of love, 
 
 But yield to him a portion of thy gain. 
 99 
 
Hymns. 
 
 So shall tlie sons of Israel regain 
 
 The love of God long forfeited by guile; 
 
 Like a relenting father will He deign 
 
 Once more on contrite worshipers to smile. 
 
 Prov. xiii., v. 7. 
 
 How oft has man, with "heart of stone," 
 The gifts of Providence received, 
 
 Nor felt they were but mercy's loan, 
 
 That good through him might be achieved. 
 
 Wrapt in himself he will not see 
 
 That, as the Lord's appointed steward, 
 
 He must dispense, with spirit free, 
 Treasures ne'er meant to be immured. 
 
 Whence does all mortal strength proceed, 
 If not from wealth? the boaster cries; 
 
 No privilege can nature need, 
 
 Or thought suggest that gold denies. 
 
 Oh! false and fatal estimate 
 
 Of specious, unsubstantial dross 
 
 Which cannot ward one stroke of faith, 
 Or lighter make affection's loss. 
 
 Its glitter mocks the coffin-plate 
 
 Where life's epitome is traced; 
 Can it redeem one evil trait 
 
 Ity which the soul has been debased? 
 
 Impassive lies the frozen heart, 
 Till care or woe its current thaws; 
 
 Nor till its brighter hopes depart, 
 Will bow to love's benignant laws. 
 
 Children of opulence! reflect, 
 
 That ye from God your pensions gained, 
 And, as His almoners elect, 
 
 Share with the poor the gifts obtained. 
 
 100 
 
Hymns. 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS HYMNS. 
 
 FAITH, HOPK, AND LOVE. 
 
 111 Who is that angel of the universe, 
 
 That first and purest spiritual grace, 
 
 Through whom alone man may with God converse, 
 And with a tear his trespasses efface? 
 
 That gentle spirit who, when stricken saith, 
 God's holy will be done? 'Tis faith, meek faith! 
 
 Who is that second messenger divine, 
 
 That 'mid life's stormy elements suspendeth 
 
 A bow, a promise — an eternal sign, 
 
 That Heaven's mercy e'er its wrath transcendeth? 
 
 Not long can sorrow its deep fountains ope 
 Before that seraph. It is hope, sweet hope! 
 
 Lo! a third angel to the earth repairs, 
 
 Kindred to both of these celestial powers; 
 
 Religion's self its oracle declares, 
 
 And finds its essence in all mortal flowers. 
 
 The mourner's heart to rapture it can move — 
 Its voice is melody. Its name is love! 
 
 Welcome, ye angels of the universe! 
 
 Welcome, faith, hope, and love, to Israel's tents! 
 Ye who the shadows of the soul disperse, 
 
 And peace and gladness to the world dispense. 
 With song we praise each spiritual grace 
 
 That links immortals to the human race. 
 
 PRAYER. 
 
 Pray when the morn unveileth 
 Her glories to thine eyes; 
 
 Pray when the sun-light faileth, 
 And stars usurp the skies , 
 101 
 
Hymns. 
 
 Far from my bosom flinging 
 Each worldly thought impure, 
 
 The praise of God be singing, 
 Mortal! for evermore, 
 
 Pray for the friend whose kindness 
 
 Ne'er failed in word or deed; 
 Pray for the foe whose blindness 
 
 Hath caused thy heart to bleed. 
 A blessing for thy neighbor 
 
 Ask thou of God above; 
 And on thy hallowed labor 
 
 Shall fall His smile of love. 
 
 Beside the stranger's altar, 
 Or at thy proper shrine, 
 
 Let not thy accents falter 
 In utt'ring truths divine. 
 
 But e'en when life is waning, 
 Thy faith with zeal declare — 
 
 One God alone is reigning 
 
 Whose worship none may share. 
 
 1 1 ^ When night from nature's kingdom flies, 
 Let prayer and light together rise; 
 For prayer shall, like the morning beam, 
 From darkness e'en thy soul redeem. 
 
 No worldly service should precede 
 The praise of Him whose will decreed 
 That sleep should like the dew descend, 
 And freshness to life's flower lend. 
 
 Present thy spirit before God, 
 Unsullied by the mortal load 
 Of follies, passions, crimes, and cares, 
 Earth for her weary sons prepares. 
 102 
 
Hymns. 
 
 Thy heart before His eye unmask, 
 And crave a blessing on thy task, 
 Strongly shalt thou be fortified 
 To wrestle then with scorn and pride. 
 
 Then, when the sleep of death is near, 
 And thou hath said thy farewell prayer, 
 In prospect, pilgrim, shalt thou see 
 The sunrise of eternity. 
 
 Though faith's discordant worshipers may rear 
 A thousand shrines, and cherish creeds diverse. 
 
 Yet harmonize they in regarding prayer 
 As virtue's guardian and religion's nurse. 
 
 Prayer is the only universal tongue 
 Familiar both to the refined and rude; 
 
 Incense on household altars daily flung 
 From the o'erflowing urn of gratitude. 
 
 Prayer is the valve made for the heart's relief 
 From all that pride hath in its depths concealed; 
 
 'Tis the securest vent for smothered grief 
 For hopes long damped and sorrows never healed. 
 
 Prayer is of Heaven's bond the holy seal, 
 
 That man with God may hold high intercourse, 
 
 Who hears and answers ev'ry pure appeal, 
 Whether of righteousness or true remorse. 
 
 Sweet is the voice of childhood when it pleads 
 For earthly parents to its Sire above, 
 
 When with unsullied lips it intercedes, 
 
 To win for them his His blessing, grace and love. 
 
 And oh ! how solemn are the prayers of age, 
 When all the vanities of earth are fled; 
 
 103 
 
Hymns. 
 
 How tremblingly it turns the holy page, 
 And prays to God who raiseth up the dead. 
 
 First balm of youth, last unction of the old, 
 
 Thy efficacy mortals shall attest, 
 Till life's last breath in prayer becometh cold. 
 
 And the long burthened spirit sinks to rest. 
 
 ■i -J £ In perilous probation here 
 
 Where ye, O mortals ! sent 
 For future being to prepare 
 Of infinite extent. 
 
 The soul against the flesh contends 
 
 For its immortal right; 
 Victorious, when faith descends 
 
 To aid its upward flight. 
 
 But if temptation's voice ye hear, 
 Persuasive, strong and sweet, 
 
 And strive not then by fervent prayer, 
 Her power to defeat. 
 
 Then will the earth-bound spirit fall, 
 
 Degraded and supine, 
 And at the carnal tempter's call 
 
 Its heritage resign. 
 
 Likeness to God man's features boast, 
 
 Reflected in the soul; 
 But this similitude is lost 
 
 'Neath sensual control. 
 
 Back to heaven, whence it came, 
 
 Let it return again, 
 Unsullied by the brand of shame, 
 
 Or sin's deep-seated stain, 
 1C4 
 
Hymns. 
 
 DIVINE WORSHIP. 
 
 116 ^k> worship God ! approach His shrine, 
 
 All ye children of the dust ; 
 Exalt that Providence divine 
 
 In whose guardianship ye trust. 
 Are ye the affluent ? Alas ! 
 
 Wealth preserves ye not from woe ; 
 Care e'en through palace gates will pass, 
 
 Bribes suspend not death's strong blow. 
 
 Oh, worship God ! His temple seek, 
 
 Helpless offspring of despair ! 
 Advance, ye languishing and weak ! 
 
 To the nursery of prayer. 
 Has fortune crushed beneath her wheel, 
 
 Those she once with riches crowned ? 
 Has friendship, that her wounds should heal, 
 Left your bleeding hearts unbound ? 
 
 Oh, worship God ! His name extol, 
 
 Who man's lot hath equalized, 
 Causing pride of wealth to fall, 
 
 Raising needy worth despised. 
 Forget not then, ye righteous poor, 
 
 Though ye taste not of the sweets 
 With which your brother's cup runs o'er, 
 
 Justice still each portion metes. 
 
 Worship the Lord, ye widowed hearts ! 
 
 Whose promise faith hath spoken, 
 Who balm to the bereaved imparts, 
 
 And soothes the spirit broken. 
 Ye fatherless ! your grief assuage, 
 
 And to God address your prayers ; 
 The shield of youth, the staff of age, 
 
 Gently dries the orphan tears. 
 
 105 
 
Hymns. 
 
 Worship your Maker; sons of earth ! 
 
 In plenty or privation ; 
 Though high or humble be your birth, 
 
 Lofty or low your station. 
 In kindness oft life's bitter draught 
 
 To human lips is tendered ; 
 Let homage, e'en while it is quaffed, 
 
 To God be meekly rendered. 
 
 •1 -1 J Lift, lift the voice of praise on high, 
 The Lord of life to glorify ! 
 Thy spirit bow in humble prayer, 
 Remember, mortal, God is here. 
 
 Within the Sanctuary's walls, 
 To dust all proud pretension falls ; 
 The curtain of the soul is drawn, 
 And worldly vanities are gone. 
 
 Art thou in power's highest place? 
 Oh! turn towards the throne of Grace; 
 How will thy fancied grandeur fleet 
 Before thy Maker's mercy-seat. 
 
 Doth thou of temp'ral treasures boast? 
 Faith slumbers not upon her post, 
 But asks thee, with impressive tone, 
 How thou repay est Heaven's loan. 
 
 If want, by thee unaided, weeps, 
 Nor gleanings from thy harvest reaps, 
 Then art thou poor, with all thy gold, 
 For virtue casts thee from her fold. 
 
 Oh! may our thoughts, eternal God! 
 Be suitable to Thy abode; 
 These disengage from sordid schemes, 
 And wean from all ambition's dreams. 
 
 106 
 
Hymns. 
 
 Let holiness alone pervade 
 The soul by Thee immortal made; 
 And grant that, till its final flight, 
 Thy praise may prove its chief delight. 
 
 DEVOTION. 
 
 118 ^ e ^ ll £ e * see k at tne shrine of devotion, 
 
 When life's evil destinies compass me round, 
 There can my heart ever calm its commotion, 
 
 By voicing the prayers that within it abound. 
 Those who in smiles and in sunshine are basking, 
 
 Listen but coldly to sorrow's rehearsal; 
 Witness Thou only my spirit's unmasking, 
 
 Father of mercy and Friend universal. 
 
 Thou, by whose hand every wound is anointed, 
 
 Wilt (as thy servant each weakness confesses) 
 Give to the heart, of its hope disappointed, 
 
 Counsel that chastens not less than it blesses. 
 Grant me great Fountain of faith and of feeling! 
 
 Patient endurance and meek self-denial, 
 Give to the soul at Thy altar appealing, 
 
 Courage in peril and firmness in trial. 
 
 119 ^ eg ^ n t ^ ie k Qr y hymn of praise, 
 And let the choral band 
 Repeat, as they their voices raise: 
 Know before whom ye stand ! 
 
 All ye in convocation brought 
 
 By God's divine command, 
 Remember what His hand hath wrought: 
 
 Know before whom ye stand! 
 
 'Tis He whose ark the deluge braved, 
 Whose rainbow heaven spanned, 
 
 Whose outstretched arm the righteous saved: 
 Know before whom ye stand! 
 107 
 
Hymns. 
 
 The self -revealed, the great I AM, 
 Who lead from Egypt's land 
 
 The heirs of faithful Abraham: 
 Know before whom ye stand! 
 
 Who sent to Bethel (house of God) 
 
 A glorious angel band 
 To bless the dreamer on the sod: 
 
 Know before whom ye stand! 
 
 Though now the glory may be lost, 
 That God for Judah planned, 
 
 Forsake not faith's exalted post: 
 Know before whom ye stand! 
 
 Oh! let devotion, pure and strong, 
 Your grateful hearts expand. 
 
 Repeating s'dll in sacred song: 
 Know before whom ye stand! 
 
 PRAISE AND THANKSGIVING. 
 Psalm cl. 
 
 His mighty acts to magnify, 
 And make those mercies understood, 
 His hand delights to multiply. 
 Praise ye the Lord! 
 
 Break forth, O Israel! into song, 
 
 Let hymns ascend to heaven's vault; 
 
 No sweeter task hath mortal tongue, 
 Than its Creator to exalt 
 Praise ye the Lord! 
 
 The firmament's bright starry wall 
 
 Shall tremblingly vibrate the sound, 
 When with a trumpet ye extol 
 
 A God who doth in grace abound. 
 Praise ye the Lord! 
 108 
 
Hymns- 
 
 Smite ye the harp, the timbrel roll, 
 And let the organ swell sublime 
 
 In praise of Him who formed the soul 
 For bliss beyond the bounds of time. 
 Praise ye the Lord! 
 
 O holy, holy, holy King! 
 
 Prostrate we bow before Thy throne, 
 And of salvation's power sing, 
 
 Possessed by Thee, and Thee alone. 
 Praise ye the Lord! 
 
 Let hallelujah loudly rise! 
 
 Let hallelujah softly fall! 
 Until on angel lips it dies, 
 
 As they unto each other call- 
 Praise ye the Lord! 
 
 lOI Let the Lord be ever praised, 
 Ever loved and glorified; 
 Though His mighty hand be raised, 
 Sons of earth to bless or chide. 
 
 Wisdom, justice, truth, and grace, 
 Are His attributes sublime; 
 
 These are seen throughout all space, 
 These are felt throughout all time. 
 
 Contemplate, O mortal man! 
 
 Heaven and its starry host, 
 Worlds of light, whose perfect plan 
 
 Leaves the soul in wonder lost. 
 
 Turn and view the elements, 
 In their calmness or their strife, 
 
 Ocean, that appals the sense, 
 Air, that ministers to life. 
 109 
 
122 
 
 Hymns. 
 
 Earth, that, while thou livest, yields 
 All her fruitful breast contains, 
 
 When thou diest, kindly shields 
 All of thee that then remains. 
 
 L,ast, the restless flame behold, 
 As it towers to the clouds, 
 
 Bursting through its smoky fold, 
 Like thy spirit from its shrouds 
 
 Seest thou not in all of these 
 Emanations, pure and bright, 
 
 From that power whose decrees 
 Can alone bring bloom or blight ? 
 
 Seek not then, whate'er they state, 
 
 Whether lofty or obscure, 
 Mysteries to penetrate, 
 
 But be silent and adore. 
 
 Eternal, almighty, invisible God! 
 
 We gratefully enter Thy sacred abode, 
 
 With rev'rence and love to exalt Thy great name, 
 
 And loudly thy manifold mercies proclaim. 
 
 As kindred surrounding a family shrine, 
 We here stand assembled for worship divine; 
 Thy presence, O Lord! let us all realize, 
 While songs to thy Throne shall in harmony rise. 
 
 Though angels their voices with mortals unite, 
 And sing of Thy glory from morning till night; 
 All praises must short of Thy excellence fall, 
 Creator, Protector, and Father of all! 
 
 Oh! still be the shepherd of Israel's flock, 
 Progressive in faith let us steadily walk, 
 Made pure by Thy law, to whose promise and threat 
 The seals, both of justice and mercy were set. 
 
 110 
 
Hymns. 
 
 Blest witnesses shall we continue to be, 
 That we have no god nor redeemer but Thee, 
 Thy truth and Thy unity zealous to urge, 
 In life or when brought to eternity's verge 
 
 •J yi We bless Thee, O Lord! as the bountiful Source 
 Of gifts which the seasons renew in their course; 
 For the showers of Spring, whose verdure and bloom 
 Are redeemed by Thy hand from a wintry tomb. 
 
 In Summer departed, the Lord, our Shield, 
 To man all the glory of nature revealed, 
 The light of whose spirit past over the earth; 
 Undimmed by the shadows of sickness or dearth. 
 
 Thy mercy, O God! let the living extol, 
 When leaves of the Autumn around them shall fall, 
 Who still with the fruits of abundance are crowned, 
 While death for his sickle no harvest hath found. 
 
 Thou wilt not forsake in the Winter of age, 
 The righteous who praised Thee in life's early stage 
 The sacrifice, then, of thanksgiving ne'er cease, 
 All ye who are blessed with health, freedom, and 
 peace. 
 
 A few may yet weep in the fullness of love, 
 For those whom Thy wisdom thought fit to remove: 
 Grieve not when a child in its purity dies, 
 From dust as a cherub it soon shall arise. 
 
 Nor long mourn for those who, maturer in years, 
 Before us have passed from the valley of tears; 
 Though dead to this world, in a brighter abode 
 They dwell with their Father, their Friend, and 
 their God. 
 
 Ill 
 
Hymns. 
 
 "i OA Extol the King who, throned above, 
 
 And crowned with righteousness and love, 
 Hath reigned from the eternal past, 
 And shall be Sovereign to the last. 
 
 His praise the morning sun began, 
 Ere he the course of nature ran, 
 When conscious of a glow divine, 
 In majesty he rose to shine. 
 
 His praise the stars of evening sung, 
 When they into their orbits sprung, 
 And fill the firmament of night, 
 With glory from a greater light. 
 
 And earth to its remotest bound, 
 
 Still circulates the joyous sound, 
 
 Rock, wave, and wind, and tree, and flow'r, 
 
 Confess an omnipresent Pow'r. 
 
 Art thou alone, O mortal man! 
 
 A silent witness of that plan, 
 
 By wisdom and by mercy wrought, 
 
 That faith might to thy soul be taught? 
 
 Arise! and with thy heart and voice, 
 In presence of thy God rejoice! 
 For thought and speech to thee belong, 
 For meditative praise and song. 
 
 125 
 
 All living souls shall bless Thy name, 
 
 O just and gracious God! 
 All flesh Thy providence proclaim, 
 
 Thy holy works applaud. 
 
 112 
 
Hymns. 
 
 From age to age will we relate 
 The wonders Thou hast wrought, 
 
 Delighting to expatiate 
 
 On all which Thou hast taught. 
 
 Young men and maidens lift the voice, 
 
 Thy wisdom to extol; 
 And children in Thy praise rejoice, 
 
 Father and Friend of all ! 
 
 But though our hands should be outspread, 
 
 As are the eagle's wings, 
 To thank Thee for the daily bread, 
 
 That from Thy bounty springs; 
 
 Though song, like sounding billows, too, 
 
 Should from our lips proceed; 
 How large a debt would yet be due 
 
 To Thee, from Jacob's seed! 
 
 Thrice holy, Lord of hosts! art Thou, 
 
 Ineffable and pure! 
 Before Thy Majesty we bow, 
 
 Great King, whom we adore. 
 
 "\Ofi Above all honor and all praise, 
 Art Thou exalted, Lord! 
 Yet would our lips in holy lays, 
 Glory to Thee accord: 
 
 Thy truth transcend eth human thought, 
 
 Thy love no limit knows; 
 And every precept Thou hast taught, 
 
 With mercy's spirit glows. 
 
 Time hath for Thee no present hour, 
 
 No past or future day; 
 Eternity attests Thy pow'r, 
 
 And mocks his measured sway. 
 113 
 
Hymns. 
 
 Though brief our mortal period, 
 
 Let us that knowledge gain, 
 Which brings us near to Thee, O God! 
 
 And bursts our worldly chain. 
 
 Oh! let it be our chief delight, 
 
 From carnal links to free 
 The soul, whose essence, pure and bright, 
 
 Claims kindred, Lord! with Thee 
 
 197 Glory and praise to the bountiful Sire, 
 
 Whose hand gave to man all his heart could desire. 
 Placed organs of speech in the temple of thought, 
 And the music of prayer from the soul was thus 
 brought. 
 
 O beautiful harmony! spirit and voice 
 In the praise of their maker together rejoice, 
 His name magnify and His attributes laud, 
 Past, present, and future — the One, only God! 
 
 Sing, Israel! sing of that Power Supreme, 
 Whose wisdom reflecting its own chastened beam, 
 On the image of clay upon which it had breathed, 
 To mortals the blessing of reason bequeathed. 
 
 O ineffable gift! unparalleled grace! 
 
 Let it ring through all time, resound through all 
 
 .space, 
 That star of the mind virtue's course indicates, 
 And truth's holy light in its orb concentrates. 
 
 And though no conception or language of ours, 
 E'en faintly may shadow God's presence or powers, 
 Let us never forego the music of prayer, 
 Nor anthems of praise that His mercies declare. 
 
 114 
 
Hymns. 
 
 House of Judah, bless the Lord! 
 
 Let His praise be your delight; 
 On your hearts His law record, 
 
 Walk ye in its perfect light. 
 
 Let the poor an altar rear, 
 
 Though with roughest stones they build; 
 If the worship be sincere, 
 
 Faith's high purpose is fullfilled. 
 
 Round that unpretending shrine, 
 
 Angel visitants shall stand; 
 'Tis a bethel as divine, 
 
 As the Luz of holy land. 
 
 By the rich, who oft to pride 
 
 Cedar palaces erect, 
 Temples should be multiplied 
 
 Like the fane that Zion decked. 
 
 Yet if sacrifice in these 
 
 Rise not up from righteous folds, 
 It will fail that God to please 
 
 Who but asks unblemished souls. 
 
 Bless the Lord, ye rich and poor! 
 
 E'en as brothers, bless One Sire; 
 Love fraternal, meek and pure, 
 
 Feeds devotion's altar-fire. 
 
 If mortal vision may not meet 
 
 The sun's meridian rays; 
 But would beneath some cloud retreat, 
 
 To shun its noontide blaze: 
 
 Oh! how shall man then elevate 
 
 The soul's eternal eye 
 To God, the awful aggregate 
 
 Of suns that never die, 
 115 
 
Hymns. 
 
 In whom the lights of truth and grace, 
 
 Of wisdom, justice, love, 
 In one stupendous mind embrace. 
 
 And in one glory move. 
 
 As angels cover with their wings, 
 Their dazzled orbs on high, 
 
 Friendly to faith, kind nature flings 
 'Twixt God and man, the sky. 
 
 Softly the veil thus interposed, 
 
 Relieves the spirit's gaze, 
 And lips that e'er in fear had closed, 
 
 Now ope, the Lord to praise. 
 
 Reflective of Almighty beams, 
 
 The soul intensely burns, 
 And ever most immortal seems, 
 
 When heavenward it turns. 
 
 ■1 *1 A Princes of earth! bend lowly down 
 Before the Lord of hosts, 
 Who sees in holiness a crown, 
 
 More bright than monarch boasts. 
 
 And ye, who o'er the free preside 
 
 With delegated sway, 
 Ask counsel of that gracious Guide, 
 
 Who bids the light of day. 
 
 With equal radiance to gild 
 The simplest shrub or flower, 
 
 As the tall cedar that may build 
 A temple or a tower. 
 
 Ye erring multitudes who bow 
 To kings of transient date, 
 
 To heaven's Sovereign homage bow, 
 Whose will controls your fate. 
 116 
 
Hymns. 
 
 God's majesty and mercy sing, 
 All ye, whose pleasant lot 
 
 Is cast where freedom's altars spring, 
 And where her creed is taught. 
 
 But whether ye as bondmen live, 
 Or freemen's rights possess, 
 
 Praise to the Lord for ever give, 
 And all his statutes bless- 
 
 MORNING. 
 
 i 71 Refresh' d by sleep, that sovereign balm, 
 Which best can human woes assuage; 
 My spirit feels a holy calm, 
 And pious thoughts my soul engage. 
 
 That soul which but the previous hour 
 Had in the world of dreams been lost, 
 
 And perch 'd on many a thornless flower, 
 Which fields of fancy only boast. 
 
 Return 'd from its wild pilgrimage, 
 Sings first unto the lord of light, 
 
 A heav'nly bird in mortal cage, 
 Preparing for its final flight. 
 
 Hear it, O thou, eternal God! 
 
 And grant the blessing it may crave, 
 Cherish it, while on earth's abode, 
 
 Receive it, when beyond the grave 
 
 Too often in this narrow vale, 
 Its note is saddened by distress; 
 
 But whether joy or grief prevail, 
 Thy name it shall for ever bless. 
 
 And when it struggles to be free, 
 What then is its exalted aim? 
 
 To reach that immorality. 
 
 Where angel hosts Thy praise proclaim. 
 117 
 
Hymns. 
 
 EVENING. 
 
 •i'lO The Lord, a watchful Guardian, reigns 
 13 & Q , er all create( i sou i s; 
 
 His hand the universe sustains, 
 His will its course controls. 
 
 Conception, at its utmost height, 
 
 Can never comprehend 
 The glory, majesty, and might, 
 
 That in Omniscience blend. 
 
 When musing, I at eventide 
 
 The firmament survey, 
 Whose golden orbs, celestial Guide 
 
 Thy wondrous skill display. 
 
 In silent adoration lost, 
 My soul the earth forgets, 
 
 Itself; like that immortal host, 
 A star that never sets. 
 
 How great the mercy, vast the love 
 
 Of Providence divine, 
 Who thus created worlds above, 
 
 For man's delight to shine! 
 
 Oh! ever in their presence bright, 
 Devotion stronger grows, 
 
 Ascending to the God of light, 
 Of darkness and repose. 
 
 SPRING. 
 
 -|^ Holy and everlasting One! 
 
 ^^^ With joy we hail the vernal sun, 
 
 With pride on nature's temple gaze, 
 Where spring her sweet oblation lays, 
 118 
 
Hymns. 
 
 Firstlings of fragrance there abound, 
 Blossoms without a blemish found, 
 OIF rings, the Invite e'en might prize, 
 For incense worthy of the skies . 
 
 The strangers now in Palestine, 
 The rose of Sharon we resign , 
 Lilies no more, within its light, 
 Expand to gladden Israel's sight. 
 
 Holy and everlasting One! 
 Glory is from Thy people gone; 
 Yet praise from their lips shall gush, 
 Who seem, like Thy own burning bush, 
 
 Endued with some mysterious power, 
 O'er hostile elements to tower; 
 A human branch by Heav'n illumed, 
 Through time to flourish unconsumed. 
 
 WINTER. 
 
 Oh! sad is nature's aspect now, 
 
 When summer-birds no longer sing, 
 
 And leaves are dying on each bough, 
 That were but infants in the spring. 
 
 So perish youth's ambitious hopes, 
 The foliage of the tree of life, 
 
 Till every verdant relic drops, 
 Amid the storm of worldy strife. 
 
 But Providence, for ever kind, 
 Hath left to man one evergreen. 
 
 That, when his blooming hours declined, 
 On the grave's border might be seen. 
 
 That gift is faith! the brightest, best, 
 That mercy plants in mortal spheres; 
 
 Beneath its shade the spirit blest, 
 Its farewell from this earth prepares. 
 119 
 
Hymns. 
 
 *J 'JC How sad the wintry hours seem, 
 
 When birds are mute and blossoms die, 
 That in the Summer's brighter beam, 
 Sent song and incense to the sky. 
 
 Will thoughtless man thus meditate, 
 And glean not in his walks abroad, 
 From nature in each varied state, 
 Fresh cause for glorifying God ? 
 
 The frost that lies upon the earth 
 Is but the shroud of transient death; 
 
 And silently for second birth, 
 
 The plants and herbs prepare beneath. 
 
 The leafless branch has warned the bird 
 
 Of winter's desolating sway, 
 The voice of instinct has been heard, 
 It warbles 'neath a warmer ray. 
 
 Shepherds their timid flocks secure 
 
 From blasts that would destroy the shorn, 
 
 And God, the Pastor of the poor, 
 Protects the feeble and forlorn. 
 
 Author of seasons! teach my mind 
 
 To view, in each vicissitude, 
 A Providence divine and kind, 
 
 Whose wonders are for e'er renewed. 
 
 PEACE. 
 
 -1 *lfL O Thou! who, as the Great Unknown, 
 From pole to pole art glorified, 
 Whose lavish hand, for every zone, 
 Doth gifts appropriate provide — 
 Of Thee a special blessing now 
 Most fervently do we implore, 
 That discord may no shadow throw 
 On freedom's altar evermore. 
 120 
 
Hymns. 
 
 Let thrones of righteous judgment here 
 
 Throughout all future years be found: 
 And may that spirit disappear, 
 
 Whose breath pollutes that hallowed ground, - 
 That selfish spirit which pursues, 
 
 (Regardless of a neighbor's right,) 
 Each purpose that promotes its views, 
 
 Or raises it to power's height. 
 
 Serene, harmonious, and sublime, 
 
 Let peace prevail, from age to age, 
 Untarnished by the stroke of time, 
 
 Or rude assault of jealous rage. 
 From civil conflict keep us free, 
 
 Abhorrent to the pious mind — 
 And grant us, Father, peace with Thee, 
 
 With conscience, and with all mankind. 
 
 137 
 
 Is there within the world's wide bound 
 A place where peace may e'er be found ? 
 Oh ! not in palaces of pride 
 Will Heaven's messenger abide. 
 
 With glory she will not sojourn, 
 But from its trophies trembling turn, 
 Nor long with human love remain, 
 That born on earth, must bear its stain. 
 
 She passeth not the gates of sin, 
 Nor want nor wealth her smile can win; 
 She droppeth not her olive-leaf 
 Upon the couch of pain or grief. 
 
 What being then on mortal ground, 
 By peace hath ever yet been crowned ? 
 She dwelleth as a seraph guest, 
 With such as succor the opprest. 
 
 121 
 
Hymns. 
 
 Her blessing ever is with those 
 Who freely will forgive their foes, 
 Who, firm in faith, in feeling pure, 
 The One Eternal God adore. 
 
 OUR COUNTRY. 
 
 i 'SO Father of nations! Judge divine ! 
 
 From Thy blessed realms above 
 Thine ear to prayers and hymns incline, 
 
 Breathed by patriotic love. 
 Is there one upon this earth, 
 
 Who in welfare or in woe, 
 For the country of his birth, 
 
 Feels not sympathy's strong glow ? 
 
 Oh ! may we not this feeling trace 
 To creation's primal date ? 
 
 When the great parent of our race 
 Felt the exile's bitter fate ? 
 
 His first tears were not for toil. 
 But for his lost flower-land — 
 
 Paradise, his native soil, 
 
 Closed on him by God's command. 
 
 That pure sentiment was nursed 
 
 When man's innocence had waned; 
 His progeny, where'er dispersed, 
 
 Kept this virtue unprofaned. 
 Native to all human kind 
 
 Is the sod of liberty ! 
 Where no tyrant's law may bind 
 
 Souls by nature's God made free. 
 
 Brethren ! let hearts and voices blend 
 In one deep and earnest prayer, 
 
 That Heaven's blessing may descend 
 Upon Freedom's hallowed sphere; 
 
 122 
 
Hymns. 
 
 Where untrammeled faith may sing 
 Fearless of the bigot's frown, 
 
 But to One Celestial King 
 Bowing her pure spirit down. 
 
 Where, upon wisdom's equal plan, 
 
 Conscience no controller dreads, 
 Secure that on the rights of man 
 
 No usurping despot treads; 
 Where unto the highest throne, 
 
 Free-will offerings are brought, 
 Homage to that One alone, 
 
 In whose image we are wrought. 
 
 Fountain of justice, truth and peace ! 
 
 May these virtues animate, 
 Until life itself shall cease, 
 
 All the sons of freedom's state. 
 Grant, that when transferred to earth, 
 
 (As religion's charter shows,) 
 In heaven, where our souls had birth, 
 
 They at last may find repose. 
 
 PENITENCE. 
 
 1 ^0 ^ * Answer me > my God ! this day 
 Of abstinence and prayer ; 
 Put my transgressions far away, 
 And soften my despair. 
 
 Answer me, Thou ! in whom alone 
 
 A Saviour I behold, 
 When I confess before Thy throne 
 
 My frailties manifold. 
 
 But in what language shall I paint 
 The depth of my remorse, 
 
 For sins of free-will and constraint, 
 Done in my evil course ? 
 123 
 
Hymns. 
 
 The vast, the awful aggregate, 
 My conscious soul confounds; 
 
 Pity, O Lord ! and meliorate 
 Thy servant's moral wounds. 
 
 Oh ! answer me, eternal King ! 
 
 When, overwhelmed with shame, 
 I to thy sacred altar cling, 
 
 And call upon Thy name. 
 
 Sinner in practice and in speech. 
 Yet dare I hope for grace ; 
 
 For angel-mercy fills the breach 
 Where wrath once found a place. 
 
 (Partially paraphrased from the 51st Psalm.) 
 
 14-0 -^ ave merc y on thy servant, Lord ! 
 
 According to Thy loving kindness ; 
 And from my spirit ever ward 
 
 That worst of evils — moral blindness. 
 
 Oft doth the world man's deeds applaud, 
 His seeming righteousness believing ; 
 
 But Thy all-searching eye, O God ! 
 There is no power of deceiving. 
 
 This witnesses each guilty thought, 
 Watches each criminal impression, 
 
 Long, long before it has been wrought 
 Into an active, bold transgression. 
 
 Wisdom that in the inward part, 
 
 With pure truth should in alliance dwell, 
 
 Forsakes too oft my feeble heart, 
 Prone gainst Thy statutes to rebel. 
 
 Oh ! wash me with Thy gracious hand, 
 Thou whose judgments e'er are justified, 
 
 That in Thy presence I may stand, 
 From unhallowed passions purified. 
 124 
 
141 
 
 Hymns. 
 
 Thoroughly cleansed by Thee alone 
 Can the children of corruption be ; 
 
 No hyssop upon earth is known 
 That can from stain the spirit free. 
 
 Oh ! give me, Father, some kind token, 
 
 That Thou wilt change to songs of gladness, 
 
 Prayers that from a spirit broken, 
 
 Have been breathed here in contrite sadness. 
 
 With sacrifice Thou wilt dispense, 
 
 Glorious Author of Creation ! 
 But to the soul that sin repents 
 
 Hast promised pardon and salvation. 
 
 Isaiah, chap. i<viii. 
 
 Leaders of Israel arise ! 
 
 Shout with a trumpet-tone, 
 The Lord, our God, ne'er sanctifies 
 
 Fasts of the flesh alone. 
 
 Behold ! in strife and loud debate, 
 
 Your sinful lives are spent ; 
 Falsehood ye freely circulate, 
 
 To nourish discontent. 
 
 And ye for trespasses like these, 
 
 The flesh would mortify ; 
 Such sacrifice will ne'er appease 
 
 The Sov' reign of the sky. 
 
 Thy brother from the yoke release, 
 Thy neighbor's burden bear ; 
 
 Speak to the widow words of peace, 
 The orphan' s loss repair. 
 
 Then glorious as morning light 
 
 Shall ye be seen to shine ; 
 Such deeds find grace in Heaven's sight, 
 
 And soften wrath divine. 
 125 
 
Hymns. 
 
 1 4.9 What painful mem'ries from the buried past 
 
 Doth conscience rouse, my soul in gloom to cast ! 
 
 Her whisper changing to a tone as loud, 
 
 As when the thunder rends the summer cloud. 
 
 Remorse now speaks of sabbath-days profaned, 
 That some poor gift of fortune might be gained, 
 Of shrines neglected, by the righteous built, 
 And perseverance in the path of guilt. 
 
 God's grace made manifest by word and sign, 
 Could not to holiness my heart incline ; 
 The sin of Achan in my spirit strove 
 Against each token of a Father's love. 
 
 For wealth I prayed, and labored from my youth, 
 In search of this I lost the way of truth ; 
 And when bereavement brought me to the dust, 
 I dared, O God ! to say Thou wert unjust. 
 
 But now for riches that can ne'er decay, 
 
 For precious faith that passeth not away, 
 
 For vital godliness that ever shines 
 
 More bright than gems, or gold from earthly mines, 
 
 The heaven of Thy bounty I entreat, 
 And cast myself before Thy mercy-seat; 
 Time cannot tarnish nor can dust corrode, 
 The treasures garnered in the Lord's abode. 
 
 \A*l Oh worship not at glory's shrine, 
 Nor bow to wealth or pow'r ; 
 False are their gifts, though held divine 
 By beings of an hour. 
 
 126 
 
Hymns. 
 
 They bring not to thy couch of pain 
 Balm-drops to ease thy breast ; 
 
 They take not from thy soul the stain 
 That robs thee of thy rest. 
 
 The work of faith cannot be done, 
 When these the spirit move ; 
 
 They lead thee from the Holy One, 
 The God of truth and love. 
 
 Look well unto thy soul's estate ! 
 
 It needeth all Thy care, 
 From sin's rank growth to extricate 
 
 The germ God planted there. 
 
 Oh ! then ere vanisheth thy prime, 
 Pray to the I y ord Supreme, 
 
 That righteousness, in future time, 
 Past errors may redeem. 
 
 1 44 Unto Thine altar, King of kings ! 
 Each contrite worshiper now clings, 
 While self-accusing conscience reads 
 The record of all past misdeeds, 
 Imploring grace at ev'ry pause, 
 For breach of thy great moral laws. 
 
 Oh ! can the tongue, to falsehood prone, 
 Send its appeals to Heaven's throne, 
 Where truth exalted and refined, 
 (Pure essence of a perfect mind,) 
 Supreme in holy beauty sits, 
 And light ineffable transmits ? 
 
 127 
 
Hymns. 
 
 Can he who justice has abhorred, 
 Believe that Power will accord 
 Pardon to him, who has transgressed 
 Statutes, that human wrongs redressed ? 
 Sternly the upright spirit frowns 
 On mortals who o'erleap its bounds. 
 
 Oh God ! though great my sins may be, 
 From stains like these my soul is free. 
 Perverseness, arrogrance, and pride 
 Have oft Thy precepts set aside ; 
 For evil, both in word and deed, 
 Forgiveness doth Thy servant need. 
 
 But Thou the penitent will raise, 
 Who humbly at thy altar prays, 
 Stretch out Thy right hand to the meek, 
 Sustain the desolate and weak ; 
 And in the book of mercy write, 
 The broken-hearted and contrite. 
 
 •i AC Exalted theme of human praise, 
 In filial confidence I raise 
 
 To Thee the voice of prayer ; 
 Burthened with guilt and shame and grief, 
 Father in heaven! for relief 
 
 To Thee I still repair. 
 
 Thou seest the shadows of my heart, 
 To man it turns its sunny part, 
 Ashamed of passion's storm. 
 In Thy compassion I confide, 
 O gentle Judge and gracious Guide! 
 My frailties to reform. 
 
 128 
 
Hymns. 
 
 Meekly will I thy chastening bear, 
 And sackcloth on my spirit wear, 
 
 For trespass to atone ; 
 But pity e'er transcends Thine ire, 
 When to thy footstool, Holy Sire ! 
 
 Sin hath for mercy flown. 
 
 Now let that attribute divine, 
 Upon contrition's tear-drops shine, 
 
 And like a rainbow rest 
 On the horizon of my soul, 
 Till ev'ry cloud shall from it roll, 
 
 And leave it pure and blest. 
 
 Psalm ci. 
 
 From my voice shall virtue's praise proceed, 
 Though my heart bears corruption's blot? 
 
 Oft shall I repeat her holy creed, 
 Yet act as though I knew it not ? 
 
 God of mercy ! though this moral grace 
 A stranger to my breast hath been, 
 
 Turn not from a penitent Thy face, 
 Who would a better life begin. 
 
 An humble pilgrim seeks Thy dwelling, 
 
 Virtue to bless and glorify, 
 No more against her laws rebelling, 
 
 But in their light to live and die. 
 
 My tent no flatterer shall profane, 
 Favor to win by converse bland, 
 
 Nor my household sanctuary stain, 
 
 By aught that breaks the Lord's command. 
 
 129 
 
Hymns. 
 
 Whatsoe'er with duty may conflict, 
 Shall ever from my mind be cast, 
 
 Which by discipline, severe and strict, 
 May excellence attain at last, 
 
 Ne'er to me in vain shall widows plead, 
 Nor helpless children of the dead ; 
 
 To those in sorrow's dwelling will I speed, 
 With portion of my daily bread, 
 
 By my Father's will, am I not bound 
 To share with my poorer brothers 
 
 Manna that, gathered upon my ground, 
 Out-measures the grain of others ? 
 
 As a house of God shall be my home, 
 Where I in innocence will walk, 
 
 Nor shall scorners o'er my threshold come, 
 Domestic piety to mock. 
 
 My song to virtue consecrated, 
 
 Revives her image in my soul. 
 Which to its God now elevated, 
 
 Counsel implores for its control. 
 
 1 AH ^ ast me not fr° m ^ky Presence, Lord ! 
 When at Thy gracious hands 
 Forgiveness humbly is implored, 
 For breach of Thy commands. 
 
 Past years like frowning spectres rise, 
 
 My spirit to upbraid, 
 Which pleased with folly's enterprise, 
 
 The task of faith delayed; 
 
 The task of plucking vicious weeds, 
 And planting in their stead, 
 
 Imperishable moral seeds, 
 By godly culture spread. 
 
 130 
 
Hymns. 
 
 For sins against Thy holy laws, 
 Behold me self-arraigned ! 
 
 For coldness in religion's cause, 
 For passions unrestrained. 
 
 Thy frequent gifts with feeble praise 
 
 Did I for e'er requite ; 
 And murmurs loud presumed to raise 
 
 At chastisements, though slight. 
 
 At Heaven's bar I now appear, 
 
 A culprit before God ; 
 Hearken, O Mercy ! to my prayer, 
 
 Ere justice lifts the rod. 
 
 Turn not thy countenance away, 
 
 When pardon I entreat ; 
 But let the beams of pity play 
 
 Around thy judgment seat. 
 
 i 4-R Stranger to that pure ambition, 
 Which to godliness aspires, 
 Man forgetting his high mission, 
 Cherisheth but vain desires. 
 
 What is it for which he toileth, 
 
 Rising early, resting late ? 
 Things that Time's strong finger spoileth 
 
 By the great decree of fate. 
 
 Power, riches, reputation, 
 
 Draw him from the one true shrine ; 
 These receive his adoration, 
 
 Due but to the Lord Divine. 
 
 Look within the lofty palace : 
 What is it we there behold ? 
 
 Venal thirst and vengeful malice, 
 Dropping gall in cups of gold. 
 
 131 
 
Hymns. 
 
 Oh ! repent of all your errors, 
 Ere the light of life departs ; 
 
 Wait not until dying terrors 
 
 Wring confession from your hearts. 
 
 Mournfully chant ! for our choir accords 
 In sadness of soul with Zion's exiles ; 
 
 Plaintive their melodies, pensive their words, 
 Tears of repentence now banishing smiles. 
 
 Who will to Israel comfort impart ? 
 
 Who shall his spirit from sorrow release, 
 Bind up the wounds of his penitent heart, 
 
 Bring the glad tidings of pardon and peace ? 
 
 Thou, Thou alone, who o'er Egypt's red wave, 
 (When the proud tyrant Thy people opprest,) 
 
 Did' st rise in majesty, Judah to save, 
 
 And redeemed it with thy covenant blest, — 
 
 Thou, Thou alone, O ineffable God ! 
 
 Hope to the contrite canst ever dispense ; 
 Though in the pathway of guilt we have trod, 
 
 Mercy will plead for the soul that repents. 
 
 i CA Woe unto Zion ! She is spoiled 
 Of all that made her proud ; 
 God's anger hath her beauty foiled, 
 And covered with a cloud. 
 
 She spreadeth forth her feeble hands, 
 
 But none will comfort yield ; 
 She hath transgressed the Lord's commands, 
 
 Her refuge once and shield. 
 
 132 
 
Hymns. 
 
 Her elders sit upon the ground, 
 And troubled silence keep ; 
 
 With sackcloth they are girded — round 
 Her ruined shrine they weep. 
 
 Mothers, to nature's instinct dead, 
 
 Upon their infants prey ; 
 Youth struggles with the hoary head, 
 
 'Neath famine's horrid sway. 
 
 The conqueror thy Sabbath mocks, 
 
 Oh Salem ! in his pride ; 
 The fox upon thy mountain walks, 
 
 Thy foe is magnified. 
 
 Woe unto us that we have erred ! 
 
 For this our hearts despair ; 
 But let compassion now be stirred, 
 
 Turn not from Israel's prayer ! 
 
 151 0h ! P laintive be the touch and tone 
 Of instrument and voice ; 
 A shadow on the heart is thrown, 
 It cannot now rejoice. 
 
 We sing of sorrow upon earth, 
 When evil passions woke, 
 
 And sin, on those of mortal birth, 
 Fastened its iron yoke. 
 
 Behold in tears a captive band 
 'Neath Shinar's willows move, 
 
 Writhing beneath rebellion's brand, 
 Mourning the land they love. 
 
 Wisely did we the warning take, 
 And from their guilt abstain : 
 
 Oh God ! Thy statutes still we break, 
 Still slaves to sin remain. 
 133 
 
152 
 
 Hymns. 
 
 Yet blest are we, who, tho' afar 
 
 From Zion's sacred fold, 
 Have found a shrine 'neath freedom's star, 
 
 Where faith is uncontrolled. 
 
 Oh ! hither bring those pearls of price 
 
 Which Mercy will accept, — 
 Contrition's purest sacrifice, 
 
 Tears for transgression wept. 
 
 Creator of the universe ! 
 
 When I before Thee would rehearse 
 
 The trespasses of years, — 
 
 Standing on judgment's awful brink, 
 
 In terror from the task I shrink, 
 Oppressed by rising fears. 
 
 Thy consecrated festivals 
 
 To me have been no solemn calls 
 
 To penitence and prayer, 
 Deserted was thy dwelling-place, 
 Unheeded all Thy acts of grace 
 
 And providential care. 
 
 Traitor to holiness, I strove 
 
 Its force and beaut}^ to disprove, 
 
 Its excellence to doubt ; 
 No loveliness in faith I saw, 
 Nor felt that spiritual awe 
 
 Which fills the soul devout. 
 
 Thus have I lived unsanctified, 
 The slave of prejudice and pride, 
 
 The foe of sacred truth, 
 Listening to pleasure's serpent hiss, 
 Who, with a bribe of worldly bliss, 
 
 Beguiled me from my youth. 
 
 134 
 
Hymns. 
 
 Roused by the cornet's warning blast, 
 I looked upon the vanished past, 
 
 And wept for wasted years ; 
 But thou wilt ope compassion's gate, 
 And all my guilt obliterate, 
 
 God of supernal spheres ! 
 
 SABBATH HYMNS. 
 
 1 C *2 Gather and worship ! The first star of eve 
 To usher the Sabbath in glory appears, 
 As that day of rest comes from gloom to relieve 
 The spirits that toil in the valley of tears. 
 
 Gather and worship ! Can Judah forget 
 
 The soul-cheering promise of Mercy supreme ? 
 Though few, where the righteous in God's name 
 
 are met, 
 On these shall the light of His countenance 
 
 beam. 
 
 Gather and worship ! These hours serene 
 To labors of holiness, e'er dedicate ; 
 
 With waters of penitence make your hearts clean, 
 Or meekly the woes of the poor mitigate. 
 
 Gather and worship ! the stars as they move, 
 To faith, in their orbits of glory appear 
 
 L,ike Sabbath-lamps, lighted by angels above, 
 To lure human hearts to their own house of 
 prayer. 
 
 Gather and worship ! the power of time 
 
 Shall cause every planet in heaven to wane ; 
 
 But there, ever fixed, is a star more sublime, 
 The soul that on earth has contracted no stain . 
 135 
 
Hymns- 
 
 •1 CA Daughters of Israel, arise ! 
 
 The Sabbath-morn to greet, 
 Send songs and praises to the skies , 
 Than frank incense more sweet. 
 
 Take heed, lest ye the drift mistake 
 Of heaven's hallowed hours, 
 
 And from those dreams too late awake, 
 That show you but life's flowers. 
 
 Leave not the spirit unarrayed, 
 To deck the mortal frame ; 
 
 With gems of grace let woman aid 
 Charms that from nature came. 
 
 With jewels of a gentle mind, 
 More precious far than gold, 
 
 Brightened by love, by faith refined, 
 And set in chastest mould. 
 
 Wife ! mother ! sister ! on ye all 
 
 A tender task devolves ; 
 Child, husband, brother, on ye call 
 
 To nerve their best resolves. 
 
 Your hands must gird the buckler on. 
 The moral weapons cleanse, 
 
 By which that battle may be won, 
 That in self -conquest ends. 
 
 155 
 
 It is the solemn Sabbath-day, 
 Let praise to God ascend ; 
 
 In holiness thy soul array, 
 
 And worldly thoughts suspend . 
 
 Come forth, ye weary sons of care, 
 Toil-worn and grief -opprest. 
 
 To heaven send a grateful pray'r, 
 For these calm hours of rest. 
 136 
 
Hymns. 
 
 Let not the poorest of ye ask 
 
 Of Providence, (long tried,) 
 "if I forego my daily task, 
 Whose hand will bread provide?" 
 
 Remember that celestial food 
 
 To Israel ordained, 
 When mercy double portions strewed, 
 
 Lest Sabbath be profaned. 
 
 With ten-fold gifts will God repay 
 
 The transient loss incurred ; 
 But tremble ye ! who disobey 
 The mandate of the Lord. 
 
 1 C< Source of mercy, truth and grace ! 
 Humbly we this Sabbath-day, 
 In Thy holy dwelling-place, 
 Grateful adoration pay. 
 
 Ere these hours of rest depart, 
 Man ! recall each past misdeed, 
 
 This will purify thy heart, 
 And extract corruption's seed. 
 
 Self-exalted dost thou stand, 
 Whilst thy neighbor is decried ? 
 
 Listen to the Lord's command, 
 Love shall supersede thy pride. 
 
 Hast thou dared the poor to spurn, 
 Though with every virtue graced ? 
 
 With confusion shalt thou learn, 
 These are far above thee placed. 
 
 Is the guilt of slander thine ? 
 
 Thou wilt shudder at thy wrong, 
 When thou hearest wrath divine 
 
 Hath denounced its serpent-tongue. 
 137 
 
Hymns. 
 
 Let the hypocrite reflect, 
 
 That a spirit-searching God, 
 
 Will his evil ways detect, 
 And avenge with penal rod. 
 
 For this pure and noble end 
 Was the Sabbath set apart ; 
 
 May the Lord of life extend 
 Peace to each repentant heart ! 
 
 1 *?7 God of tne Sabbath ! to Thy praise, 
 As once in Zion's palmy days, 
 
 The organ sweetly swells ; 
 While thousands to thy temples throng, 
 And in alternate prayer and song, 
 
 Send up their meek appeals. 
 
 Gently we lay our burdens down, 
 Where faith assumes her Sabbath-crown, 
 
 And wears the robe of peace ; 
 When from the web of worldly strife, 
 We draw that golden thread of life, 
 
 The seventh day's release. 
 
 But think not 'tis enough, that we 
 Our hands from servile labor free, 
 
 On this most holy day : 
 If malice in the soul still works, 
 If there one spark of anger lurks, 
 
 In vain we sing and pray. 
 
 When shall the jubilee begin, 
 That from the slavery of sin, 
 
 Man's spirit shall redeem ? 
 Not till we plant with pious toil, 
 On Sabbaths, in the moral soil, 
 
 The law of God supreme. 
 
 138 
 
Hymns. 
 
 ■ICO In harmony with Heaven's peace, 
 Sabbath's deep repose descends, 
 From toil the weary to release, 
 
 The sordid draw from worldly ends, 
 Lord ! let devotion fill our hearts, 
 Ere time's serenest day departs. 
 
 Rest, worshipers ! and pray and sing, 
 To the Healer of all woes, 
 
 From whose exhaustless, balmy spring 
 Consolation ever flows. 
 
 Here will the burthened spirit gain 
 
 Courage, all trials to sustain. 
 
 Thine, Father ! is the mighty will, 
 And Thine the gracious pow'r, 
 
 The tumults of the mind to still, 
 In sorrow's stormy hour. 
 
 Nor e'er unsolaced shall they grieve, 
 
 Who righteously Thy word receive. 
 
 O God ! let passion's flood recede 
 From Thy hallowed dwelling-place, 
 L,est from the soul Thy moral creed 
 
 Its wild current may efface ; 
 And from that inner temple sweep 
 
 The statutes we should therein keep. 
 
 Hear us ! when we uplift our hands 
 
 In fervent supplication, 
 That Thou wilt bless and speed all plans 
 
 For freedom's preservation ; 
 And o'er the country of our love, 
 L,et peace, the Sabbath-angel, move. 
 
 Come ye afflicted and forlorn ! 
 To this consecrated shrine, 
 Where e'en the breast, by anguish torn 
 139 
 
Hymns. 
 
 Care forgets in rest divine 
 In the fullness of devotion, 
 Merging every sad emotion. 
 
 Now let the hand of toil suspend 
 
 Its daily task severe, 
 And youth and age their voices blend, 
 
 In glad and grateful praj^er. 
 
 Behold ! the Sabbath sun appears 
 
 Beneficent and bright, 
 As if it drew from from higher spheres 
 
 A part of Mercy's light ! 
 
 Pause ye, whom sordid schemes engross 
 In virtue's balance weighed, 
 
 Your present gain is future loss, 
 Your substance but a shade. 
 
 And ye, whom pleasure can beguile, 
 
 From piety to stray, 
 Pause ! and against her hollow smile, 
 
 God's awful frown array. 
 
 Come hither, ye by sorrow bowed ! 
 
 For pure and earnest prayer 
 Hath power to dispel each cloud 
 
 Of mortal grief and care. 
 
 The mourner's failing hope revives, 
 
 Beneath that sacred dome, 
 Where faith divine a promise gives, 
 
 Of Sabbaths yet to come. 
 
 Praise the Lord God, the glorious Supreme ! 
 Whose Sabbath we the highest gift esteem, 
 By His munificence on man bestowed, 
 Since first on earth the fount of mercy flowed. 
 
 140 
 
Hymns. 
 
 Praise the ineffable, eternal One ! 
 Whose holy will with rev'rence should be done, 
 Who to angelic hosts proclaimed on high, 
 This day for ever shall ye sanctify ! 
 
 O crowning evidence of love and grace ! 
 O best of blessings to the human race ! 
 Shall we thy lustre dim by deeds impure, 
 Seeking some worldly treasure to secure- 
 
 Let it not be ! Let feeling, thought and word, 
 With this day's sweet serenity accord ; 
 In vain the hand its daily task foregoes, 
 If the mind labors and rejects repose. 
 
 There is a soil within that culture needs — 
 A moral field o'errun with evil weeds — 
 These to extract, this holy time employ, 
 Lest they the growth of righteousness destroy. 
 
 Be this, O Israel ! your sacred task, 
 And not in vain shall ye God's blessing ask , 
 Sing hallelujahs, children of His choice, 
 And in the Sabbath of -.he Lord rejoice. 
 
 Ezekiei,, xx., v. 20. 
 
 Hallow my Sabbaths ! Will Israel respond, 
 
 With filial delight, to his Father's command ? 
 Or sever by trespass the holiest bond 
 
 That ever was signed by His merciful hand ? 
 
 Hallow my Sabbaths ? Elect of all nations. 
 The voice of the prophet is lifted in vain ; 
 
 Earth taketh from heaven your vows and oblations , 
 Your prayer is for power — your precept is gain. 
 
 Hallow my Sabbaths ! Can Jeshurun falter, 
 When God for a single day's sacrifice pleads? 
 
 Void is the temple, and vacant the altar, 
 
 The world's profane service His worship impedes. 
 141 
 
Hymns. 
 
 Hallow my Sabbaths! The hand of life's dial 
 Moves rapidly on, in its limited sphere, 
 
 While faith keeps her eye on that hour of trial, 
 When man must his soul to Omnipotence bare. 
 
 Hallow my Sabbath! By this ye shall merit, 
 With angels in bright convocation to meet, 
 
 The kingdom of Heaven for e'er to inherit, 
 
 And sing with the saints before God's mercy-seat. 
 
 *\f\) P re P are an( i P ur ify m y heart, 
 
 Thou who receivest mortal prayer! 
 Its Sabbath-thoughts to set apart 
 From every worldly hope and fear. 
 
 Oh! lead my spirit far away, 
 
 From evil haunts of human -kind; 
 
 Withdraw it from the fragile clay, 
 
 In which Thou hast its light enshrined. 
 
 Let not Thy servant pass unblest, 
 
 From mercy's hallowed dwelling-place; 
 
 There, when my frailties are confest, 
 Give me assurance of Thy grace. 
 
 *1 f^/y Rest for the Lord! The work is done, 
 That order out of chaos brought, 
 Gave to the firmament a sun, 
 
 To man — the glorious light of thought. 
 
 Rest for the new-created globe ! 
 
 Forth went the law of love divine, 
 And peace put on her purest robe, 
 
 And smiling stood at Eden's shrine. 
 
 142 
 
Hymns. 
 
 Brighter the flower-altar grew, 
 
 As there the Sabbath-angel prayed, 
 
 That her own spirit might imbue 
 All that by Mercy had been made. 
 
 But when serenity departs, 
 
 And sin has closed its golden gate ; 
 When thorns spring up in human hearts, 
 
 And tears reveal man's altered state: 
 
 Most sensibly will sons of earth, 
 (Of costly knowledge once possest,) 
 
 Appreciate the real worth 
 Of hallowed periodic rest. 
 
 O ye • whose paradise is found, 
 
 Not where the leaves of truth expand, 
 
 But where the fruits of wealth abound, 
 Remember Heaven's great command. 
 
 Six days to labor may ye give, 
 But on the seventh shall repose. 
 
 That in the land ye long may live, 
 Which with God's bounty overflows. 
 
 Fulfilled — ye shall in spheres above, 
 (Where centuries like hours roll,) 
 
 Enjoy the gift of perfect love — 
 Th' eternal Sabbath of the soul. 
 
 gLA Praise to the God of nations sing, 
 Who in sublime repose, 
 Bade Sabbath into being spring, 
 Creation's work to close. 
 
 The solace which this day of rest 
 To suff 'ring mortals brings, 
 
 Must take from ev'ry troubled breast 
 The sharpest of its stings. 
 143 
 
Hymns. 
 
 Banished from Eden and bereaved 
 
 By guilt of all its flow'rs, 
 Oh ! how would toiling man have grieved, 
 
 But for these hallowed hours. 
 
 Yet, oh ! beware, lest sin once more 
 
 In God's own temple creep, 
 And tempt thy spirit as before, 
 
 When faith was lulled to sleep. 
 
 Though now the proffered fruit be gold, 
 
 Turn from the gift away, — 
 For this, immortal souls are sold 
 
 On Heaven's holy day. 
 
 Upon thy conscience leave no stain, 
 
 So durable and deep, 
 As that of giving up to gain 
 
 The Sabbath angels keep. 
 
 FESTIVAL HYMNS. 
 
 NEW YEAR. 
 
 1 (\% Between the past and future year, 
 We pause awhile in our career, 
 
 Two voices to attend ; 
 One speaks of life, and light, and bloom, 
 One warns us of the unseen tomb, 
 
 To which all must descend. 
 
 Experience and hope thus stand, 
 Addressing all the human band, 
 
 As on they swiftly speed ; 
 Young pilgrims but the promise hear, 
 That time in every coming year 
 
 Will but to pleasure lead. 
 144 
 
Hymns. 
 
 Few, even of maturest age, 
 
 Can that grave wisdom long engage, 
 
 Which for reflection calls ; 
 Still blind and rash, they forward pass, 
 The last few minutes of their glass 
 
 Wasting in mirth's gay halls. 
 
 Oh ! listen to the warning tone, 
 
 In sorrow sent from mem'ry's throne, 
 
 Ye children of the dust ! 
 No falsehood rests upon the tongue, 
 That counsels both the old and young, 
 
 In God alone to trust. 
 
 Oh ! what a crowd of by-gone things, 
 Home to the heart remembrance brings, 
 
 At our annual feast ; 
 Many with smiles their kindred greet, 
 Some weeping, show each vacant seat 
 
 Once filled by friends deceased. 
 
 L,ook round on nature's varied scene, 
 What chequered objects lie between 
 
 The cradle and the bier — 
 The sunbeam and the stormy cloud, 
 The wedding raiment and the shroud 
 
 Sadden, by turns, and cheer. 
 
 Now on that inner being gaze, 
 Where passion oft its shadow lays 
 
 On all that once was bright ; 
 Where pride so frequently expels 
 That love in which God's likeness dwells, 
 
 Reflecting moral light. 
 
 Remember that a day, an hour, 
 May place beyond all mortal pow'r 
 Forgiveness to bestow ; 
 
 145 
 
Hymns. 
 
 Let not the New Year's sun decline, 
 Ere ye have vowed before this shrine 
 Resentment to forego. 
 
 Put off each ling' ring weakness now, 
 Faith will your minds with strength endow, 
 
 Self-conquest to achieve ; — 
 Will give you fortitude to bear 
 The chastenings, frequent and severe, 
 
 Ye may on earth receive. 
 
 Oh ! then shall Mercy's hand record 
 That blessed, that benignant word : 
 
 Pardon to sinful man ! 
 Whose soul, triumphant o'er decay, 
 To that world shall direct its way, 
 
 Which knows no annual span. 
 
 1 /C/C Into the tomb of ages past 
 
 Another year hath now been cast : 
 Shall time, unheeded, take its flight, 
 Nor leave one ray of moral light, 
 That on man's pilgrimage may shine, 
 And lead his soul to spheres divine ? 
 
 Ah, which of us, if self -reviewed, 
 
 Can boast unfailing rectitude ? 
 
 Who can declare his wayward will 
 
 More prone to righteous deeds than ill ? 
 
 Or, in his retrospect of life, 
 
 No traces find of passion's strife? 
 
 A "still small voice," as time departs, 
 Bids us inspect our secret hearts, 
 Whose hidden depths too oft contain 
 Some spot, which suffered to remain, 
 Will, (slight at first) by sad neglect 
 The hue of vice at last reflect. 
 
 146 
 
Hymns- 
 
 With firm resolve your bosoms nerve 
 The God of truth alone to serve, 
 Speech, thought, and act to regulate, 
 By what His perfect laws dictate ; 
 Nor from His sanctuary stray, 
 By worldly idols lured away. 
 
 Peace to the house of Israel ! 
 May joy within it ever dwell ! 
 May sorrow on the opening year, 
 Forgetting its accustomed tear, 
 With smiles again fond kindred meet, 
 With hopes revived the festal greet ! 
 
 1 (\7 Morn breaks upon Moriah's height: 
 A father and his only son 
 There bow towards the rising light, 
 And humbly say, God's will be done ! 
 
 With trembling hand but faithful heart, 
 The sire binds his sinless boy, 
 
 Prepared with that sweet pledge to part, 
 Which he who lent would now destroy. 
 
 On Sarah most his thoughts were bent, 
 When she no more should meet her child ; 
 
 But mourn within her lonely tent 
 For him the pure, the undefiled. 
 
 Yet firmly Abram grasps the blade ; 
 
 But ere the fatal stroke descends, 
 A beam hath round the victim played, 
 
 An angel o'er the altar bends: 
 
 Forbear ! the test of faith is o'er ! 
 
 Unbind the sacrificial cord ! 
 Yon Heav'n provided ram secure, 
 
 To bleed and burn before the Lord ! 
 147 
 
Hymns. 
 
 Blow, blow the trumpet of gladness now ! 
 
 God's clemency and love confess ! 
 Who hath fulfilled His solemn vow, 
 
 In Isaac's seed the earth to bless. 
 
 •i fiQ Look down, O God I with gracious eye 
 
 On Thy worshipers contrite ! 
 And let each penitential sigh, 
 
 Thy compassion now excite. 
 When we Thy sanctuary seek, 
 
 In solemn prayer, with spirit meek, 
 Past transgressions to declare, 
 
 No judge relentless wilt Thou prove, 
 But with a father's boundless love„ 
 
 Pardon grant on this New Year. 
 
 Look down in mercy, mighty King ! 
 
 Upon our domestic spheres — 
 Remove from these whate'er may bring 
 
 Remorse in our future years. 
 From our beloved home-circles keep 
 The shadows dark and sorrows deep, 
 
 Encountered in life's career. 
 Banish from there all passions stern, 
 And to the course of virtue turn 
 
 Our hearts on this New Year. 
 
 Look down upon this city, Lord ! 
 
 And all danger and distress 
 From its remotest limits ward, 
 
 With parental tenderness. 
 Increase, kind Providence ! the store 
 Of the honest, laboring poor, 
 
 Who in mind Thy statutes bear ; 
 Relieve the sons of want and woe, 
 That tears may not be seen to flow 
 
 On the birth of this New Year. 
 148 
 
Hymns. 
 
 Look down and bless, eternal King ! 
 
 Thy holy habitation, 
 Where sinners to Thy altar cling, 
 
 In contrite supplication. 
 Not for ourselves alone we pray— 
 For fellow-creatures gone astray 
 
 We implore forgiveness here ! 
 Oh God ! when we depart from hence, 
 In heaven may our soul commence 
 
 Immortality's New Year. 
 
 DAY OF ATONEMENT. 
 
 1 60 My heart is bared to Thee, O Lord ! 
 Rebellious oft against Thy laws ; 
 My frailties justice must record, 
 But, oh ! let mercy plead my cause. 
 
 That angel finds a saving grace, 
 
 Where sterner truth but guilt descries; 
 
 Her shrine is still a shelt'ring place, 
 To which the trembling sinner flies. 
 
 To other gods I've gone astray, 
 Idols of man's own fabrication, 
 
 Riches and fame, that flee away, 
 And leave the soul in desolation. 
 
 I've dwelt with unrelenting stress, 
 Upon my neighbor's lightest sin, 
 
 And looked with partial tenderness 
 Upon the deeper taint within. 
 
 Proud, covetous, vindictive, vain, 
 Thy contrite servant oft hath been ; 
 
 Yet from Thy chast'ning rod refrain, 
 O God ! and let me pardon win. 
 
 149 
 
Hymns. 
 
 Thus have I rent the flimsy veil, 
 That hid my heart's deformity, 
 
 Not yet beyond salvation's pale, 
 If mercy will but plead for me. 
 
 f J[\ Lord of the world ! when I behold 
 
 The ling' ring shadows of the night, 
 Far, far from the horizon rolled, 
 By the effulgent source of light — 
 
 Cheered is my soul, howe'er oppressed; 
 
 For thus it trusts with mercy's ray 
 Shine on the penitential breast, 
 
 And chase the clouds of sin away. 
 
 Yet, while my eye from nature takes 
 A token that may hope convey, 
 
 A secret dread my spirit shakes, 
 O God ! upon this fearful day. 
 
 The mourner's dust should strew my head, 
 
 The shroud my fitting raiment prove ; 
 For now my sentence must be read 
 By the eternal Judge above. 
 
 Woe, woe is me ! the vain, the proud, 
 The votary of idle mirth ; 
 
 E'en as a bulrush am I bowed, 
 By conscious frailty to the earth. 
 
 Peace, mortal man ! nor in despair 
 Forget there is a mighty Hand, 
 
 Which can redemption's standard rear, 
 And break corruption's iron band. 
 
 But, oh ! if thou wouldst grace entreat 
 Of him who rends the yoke of sin, 
 
 That mercy let thy brother meet, 
 
 Which thou wouldst from thy Father win. 
 
 150 
 
Hymns. 
 
 The wicked Thou wilt not forsake, 
 Almighty Sovereign and Sire ! 
 
 But from their hearts defilement shake, 
 And love of purity inspire. 
 
 Shepherd of Israel ! Thy rod 
 
 Hath driven us from Zion's fold ; 
 
 Let us, through righteousness, O God ! 
 The better land of faith behold. 
 
 i ^i Father of mercies ! on this morning, 
 
 Trembling I stand before Thy shrine, 
 Appalled by conscience, whose forewarning 
 
 Sternly prefigures wrath divine, 
 Whose bolt, (forgiving as Thou art,) 
 Hath stricken oft the sinful heart. 
 
 Yet, though opprest with shame and terror, 
 
 Freely will I to Thee expose 
 Bach foible and each flagrant error, 
 
 That from unbridled passion grows, 
 Though from Omniscience none may screen 
 Guilt that no mortal eye hath seen. 
 
 But, O my Judge and Benefactor ! 
 
 What trespass shall be first proclaimed ? 
 The slander of the base detractor, 
 
 Whose shaft at more than life is aimed, 
 That e'er with jealousy conspires, 
 
 To mar what all the world admires ? 
 
 Or, from my manifold offences, 
 Shall I that scornful pride select, 
 
 Which all its love in self condenses, 
 And will no social tie respect, 
 
 Frustrating thus thy gracious end, 
 
 In fellowship mankind to blend ? 
 
 151 
 
Hymns. 
 
 Eternal Sovereign ! Sire Supreme ! 
 
 When I Thy glory should promote, 
 My powers to some worldly scheme 
 
 Unrighteously do I devote, 
 And e'en Thy Sabbaths oft profane, 
 Some selfish object to attain. 
 
 Alas ! were all these faults forgiven, 
 So many would remain untold, 
 
 That to despair I should be driven, 
 Did I not in remembrance hold 
 
 Thy mercy from creation's birth, 
 
 Dispensed to sinners upon earth. 
 
 Oh ! may that shield of the offender, 
 On this great judgment-day arise, 
 
 And prompt Thee, Father ! to surrender 
 The scourge uplifted to chastise ! 
 
 Thy boundless grace for me shall ope 
 The gates of pardon, peace, and hope. 
 
 *1 *70 Comfort ye, O Israel ! and lift no more 
 
 The voice of trembling and of tribulation ; 
 But songs of gladness and thanksgiving pour 
 To Him who hears and anwers supplication. 
 
 Comfort ye, frail transgressors ! Hence depart, 
 
 Cheered by the belief that He who reigns above, 
 Will to himself draw every contrite heart 
 
 With the soft chords of pure paternal love. 
 But ere ye from this holy place retreat, 
 
 Vow, firmly vow, before the throne of Heaven, 
 That ye will never more those sins repeat 
 
 Which God, in mercy, hath this day forgiven. 
 
 Turn to your home ! But, oh ! Remember there 
 The pious purposes here meditated ! 
 
 Let each man's dwelling be a house of prayer, 
 To peace, to love, to justice consecrated. 
 152 
 
Hymns. 
 
 TABERNACLES. 
 
 173 ** ow desolate thy fields and vales, 
 O Palestine ! once fair and free — 
 No reaper-train the harvest hails 
 With hymns to Israel's Deity. 
 
 The torch hath been upon thy sheaf, 
 The brand upon thy fruitful vine, 
 
 And thou art like a withered leaf, 
 Hurled to the dust by wrath divine. 
 
 No more upon thy blighted soil 
 The tents of all the tribes arise ; 
 
 Thou art indeed a pray and spoil — 
 
 Thy crown and sceptre Ishmael's prize. 
 
 Afar we tabernacles rear, 
 
 And seek a righteous substitute, 
 
 In grateful praise and godly prayer, 
 For offerings of grain and fruit. 
 
 Myrtles and willows we entwine, 
 And palm and fairer citron bring, 
 
 Creations of one Hand divine, 
 
 From which all nature's blessings spring. 
 
 And as we thus together place 
 Inodorous and fragrant boughs, 
 
 So mingle too, the human race, 
 
 Whom God with diverse gifts endows. 
 
 Our habitations we forsake 
 
 For booths whose open roofs reveal 
 
 That Heaven, to whose I^ord we make 
 Our first address and last appeal. 
 
 Such change the pious soul prepares 
 For final passage to the grave, 
 
 Whence it may reach immortal spheres, 
 Where saints the palm of glory wave! 
 
 153 
 
Hymns. 
 
 O Thou! whose presence glorified 
 Our pilgrim fathers' desert-tents, 
 
 Let truth be now our angel-guide, 
 And light to Israel dispense! 
 
 *1 *1 A Praise the Counselor supreme! 
 
 Oh! praise the Judge divine! 
 Who deigned Judah to redeem, 
 
 With wonder, word, and sign. 
 Feeble must all language prove, 
 
 His glories to rehearse, 
 Tokens of whose boundless love 
 
 Make glad the universe. 
 
 Led from Egypt's servile sod, 
 
 Our sires (a pilgrim band) 
 Trackless wilds securely trod 
 
 To Canaan's vine-clad land. 
 Frail the tent, but firm the trust. 
 
 Of Israel that day; 
 For through desert-clouds of dust, 
 
 He still saw Mercy's ray. 
 
 Lost to us is that blessed soil 
 
 Whose trees shed fragrant tears; 
 But the Hand that wrought the spoil, 
 
 Fresh drops of balm prepares. 
 Genial now, as in the past, 
 
 Are beam, and breeze, and dew, 
 Which, for toiling man's repast, 
 
 The harvest-fruits renew. 
 
 Now, on freedom's rock sublime, 
 God's moral law is read; 
 
 Now, as in the elder time, 
 The wilderness yields bread. 
 
 154 
 
Hymns. 
 
 Set your tabernacles up, 
 
 Ye righteous Hebrews! here. 
 
 Sanctify your sweetened cup 
 With sacred song and prayer. 
 
 In life's wilderness, man's fame 
 
 A transient booth appears, 
 Where the soul, that from God came, 
 
 Dwells for a few brief years. 
 Lord! when from this fabric slight 
 
 My spirit shall remove, 
 Guide it Thou to heaven's height, 
 
 The promised land of love! 
 
 175 Rude are the tabernacles now 
 Of Israel's scattered band; 
 Still to the East the faithful bow, 
 
 And bless their fatherland. 
 Oh! save us, we beseech Thee, Lord! 
 Through every chance and change adored, 
 
 Oh! when we think of Palestine, 
 
 Whose consecrated dust 
 Once bore the hallowed ark and shrine 
 
 Of Judah's only trust: 
 We mourn to mark the stranger there, 
 Who only mocks the Hebrew's prayer. 
 
 Wake ye, who in the deadly sleep 
 
 Of self-delusion lie ! 
 Arise! or ye may live to weep 
 
 The time now passing by. 
 Save us, O everlasting Lord! 
 Thy aid against remorse afford. 
 
 Let us re-open mercy's law, 
 
 And in our bosoms lock 
 Precepts, that humble hearts shall draw 
 
 155 
 
Hymns. 
 
 Towards salvations' s rock; 
 Praises to heaven's supreme Lord, 
 Who did this sovereign gift accord! 
 
 1 1f% ^ Heaven's bounties let us sing, 
 
 That, countless as the stars above, 
 Through all the varied seasons spring 
 
 From the eternal Source of love! 
 Mirrored alike on vale and mount, 
 
 Are images of Grace benign; 
 Fields, moistened o'er by Mercy's fount, 
 
 To yield the reaper wheat and wine. 
 
 In spring, the whisp'ring breezes give 
 
 God's gracious message to the earth, 
 That languid nature shall revive, 
 
 And all that's beautiful have birth. 
 Brief the life-time of the flowers; 
 
 But scarcely have these passed away, 
 When the autumnal harvest-hours 
 
 Come to atone for their decay. 
 Shall lab 'ring man on fallen leaves 
 
 Bestow his unavailing tears, 
 When on their ruin rise the sheaves 
 
 Whose golden grain his spirit cheers? 
 No! joyously he then should lift 
 
 His grateful heart to God in prayer, 
 Who to the season suits the gift, 
 
 But ne'er suspends a parent's care. 
 
 With moral providence, likewise, 
 
 Let beings of this world prepare 
 'Gainst days when youth's bright verdure dies, 
 
 And life is like the waning year. 
 For then shall virtue vegetate, 
 
 And nourish on the inner ground; 
 Joy shall the reaper animate, 
 
 Within whose tents its fruits are found. 
 156 
 
Hymns. 
 
 i J J How great, how pure is my delight, 
 
 Thee to serve and praise, O Lord! 
 Thy wondrous judgements to recite, 
 
 Thy kind precepts to record. 
 Let my career be sanctified 
 
 From this day by godly deeds, 
 And through that path my footsteps guide 
 
 Which to thy own kingdom leads. 
 
 With spiritual manna, Thou 
 
 Craving hearts hast e'er sustained: — 
 
 Nourish with two-fold portion now 
 
 Those whose moral strength has waned. 
 
 Again, again, O gracious King! 
 By Thy mild, paternal grace 
 
 Am I allowed to pray and sing 
 In Thy blessed dwelling-place. 
 
 Oh! that my thoughts were like my theme, 
 
 Holy, glorious, and pure; 
 That they would with reflected beam, 
 
 Come from Thee and to Thee soar! 
 Alas! but half immortal here, 
 
 The soul is powerless to boast, 
 Of sending on the wings of prayer, 
 
 Thoughts that glorify Thee most. 
 
 Yet even prayer from lips defiled, 
 
 With indulgence have been heard — 
 On the suppliant Thou hast smiled, 
 
 W T ho with tears his plea preferred. 
 Me Thou never hast rejected, 
 
 When towards Thy mercy-seat 
 Faith my spirit hath directed, 
 
 Thy forgiveness to entreat. 
 
 157 
 
Hymns. 
 
 With what can we compare the joy, 
 
 Lord! of tending at Thy shrine, 
 The rapture, free from all alloy, 
 
 Of a service so divine ? 
 Oh! grant our lives through future years 
 
 One long festival may prove, 
 And we from seeds first sown in tears, 
 
 Fruits may reap of peace and love. 
 
 FEAST OF DEDICATION. 
 
 1 78 G feat Arbiter of human fate, 
 Whose glorj r ne'er decays, 
 To Thee alone we dedicate 
 The song and soul of praise. 
 
 Thy presence Judah's host inspired, 
 
 On danger's post to rush ; 
 By Thee the Maccabee was fired, 
 
 Idolatry to crush. 
 
 Amid the ruins of their land. 
 
 (In Salem's sad decline,) 
 Stood forth a brave but scanty band 
 
 To battle for their shrine. 
 
 In bitterness of soul they wept, 
 
 Without the temple wall; 
 For weeds around its courts had crept, 
 
 And foes its priests enthral. 
 
 Not long to vain regrets they yield, 
 But for their cherished fane, 
 
 Nerved by true faith they take the field, 
 And victory obtain. 
 
 158 
 
Hymns. 
 
 But whose the power, whose the hand, 
 
 Which thus to triumph led 
 That slender but heroic band, 
 
 From which blasphemers fled ? 
 
 'Twas Thine, O everlasting King 
 
 And universal Lord! 
 Whose wonder still thy servants sing. 
 
 Whose mercies they record. 
 
 The priest of God his robe resumed, 
 When Israel's warlike guide 
 
 The sanctuary's lamp relumed, 
 Its altar purified. 
 
 Oh! thus shall Mercy's hand delight 
 To cleanse the blemished heart, 
 
 Rekindle virtue's waning light, 
 And peace and truth impart. 
 
 FEAST OF ESTHER. 
 
 1 70 Almighty God ! Thy special grace, 
 In seasons of distress, 
 Hath ever by the Hebrew race, 
 Been gratefully confest. 
 
 When lots were cast with evil aim, 
 Thy people to destroy, 
 
 From Thee the great decision came 
 That turned their hearts to joy. 
 
 Earth's mightiest, at thy decree, 
 E'en to the frailest yield, 
 
 And Susa's shore and Egypt's sea, 
 Proclaim Thee Israel's Shield. 
 159 
 
Hymns. 
 
 The mourner at the palace-gate, 
 
 The maiden at the throne 
 Were but the instruments of fate 
 
 To make God's mercy known. 
 
 To Thee alone the praise belongs, 
 
 Who, with a father's hand, 
 From Judah's race averts the wrongs 
 
 By adversaries planned. 
 
 Let proud, ungodly men elate 
 
 With triumphs of an hour, 
 Remember, heaven can frustrate 
 
 Each dark device of power. 
 
 Sov' reign of worlds J Thou wilt extend 
 
 Thy sceptre to the just, 
 The rights of innocence defend, 
 
 And bring its foes to dust. 
 
 PASSOVER. 
 
 1 80 ^°^ °* ^ e eartn > the an *> tne sea > 
 
 Source of Israel's salvation ! 
 Whose power set our fathers free 
 
 From Egypt's task and tribulation ; 
 Through ages shall their seed proclaim 
 Their glorious Redeemer's name. 
 
 Thy angel in the pillar stood, 
 
 Towering, by turns, in flame and cloud, 
 And bade the winds pass o'er the flood, 
 
 To shield the meek and blast the proud ; 
 The song of Miriam evermore 
 Shall echo find from freedom's shore 
 
 160 
 
Hymns. 
 
 Here every bosom holds a chord, 
 
 That to her grateful strain responds, 
 Ascribing glory to the Lord, 
 
 Who can alone break human bonds. 
 Praise to the Guide of Israel's host, 
 Who maketh vain the tyrant's boast. 
 Let every soul be purified 
 
 From dark corruption's fatal leaven, 
 Nor in its blind and stubborn pride, 
 
 Reject the manna sent from heaven— 
 The pure, sweet seed of revelation, 
 By Mercy dropt for man's salvation. 
 
 181 ^ * let US min £ le h ear t and voice, 
 In unison let us rejoice, 
 
 To one great God appealing ; 
 The children of the Hebrew race, 
 Who, tho' divided now by space, 
 Are linked by fate and feeling. 
 Bondage hath ceased, 
 And freedom's feast 
 For souls released, 
 By mem'ry kept, 
 Bach chord hath swept, 
 In which her sacred music slept. 
 The sword of vengeance flashed abroad ! 
 The sceptre that became a rod 
 Has by a rod been broken ; 
 The child redeemed from Nile's great flood, 
 Has changed its waters into blood ! 
 A warning and a token 
 Of plagues reserved 
 For those who swerved, 
 By power nerved, 
 From laws humane, 
 And dared constrain 
 God's witnesses to works profane ! 
 
 161 
 
Hymns. 
 
 The clime of darkness blacker grows, 
 No beam the worship' d sun-god throws 
 
 Within the heathen's palace ; 
 Regardless of the despot's prayer 
 Compell'd with trembling and with fear 
 To drain the bitter chalice ; 
 
 Behold and praise 
 
 God's wondrous ways 
 
 Each hour displays ! 
 
 In contrast bright 
 
 To Egypt's night 
 On Israel's home shines perfect light. 
 
 And thus with concentrated ray 
 On all who heaven's will obey, 
 
 Whate'er may be their station, 
 Through all the shadows cast by time, 
 Shall rise in lustrous grace sublime 
 The blest star of salvation ! 
 
 The tyrant's doom 
 
 In midnight gloom, 
 
 From throne to tomb 
 
 On freedom's spot 
 
 It resteth not ; 
 Light to man's spirit there is brought. 
 
 Creator ! Liberator ! Lord ! 
 Let peace to us its palm accord, 
 
 Twined with faith's pure evergreen ; 
 Oh ! bless the rulers of each land, 
 Who causes its branches to expand, 
 Its rare fruitage to be seen. 
 Most holy King ! 
 Let Judah cling 
 To laws that spring 
 From Mercy's seat, 
 While at Thy feet 
 This day's memorial we repeat. 
 
 162 
 
Hymns. 
 
 182 Hallelu J' ah ! Prais e to Thee, 
 Mighty God of victory ! 
 Voice of Jacob, now repeat 
 Paschal anthems, loud and sweet. 
 
 Hallelujah ! God hath bowed 
 Hearts idolatrous and proud — 
 Whelmed amid their vain career, 
 Courser, car, and charioteer ! 
 
 Hallelujah ! I,et us sing-, 
 Sound the trump, the timbrels ring ! 
 Tyrant-kings shall never more 
 Scorn the God that we adore. 
 
 Hallelujah ! Spear and shield 
 Vainly may the strongest wield ; 
 Weak the cause that virtue wrongs, 
 Triumph but to truth belongs. 
 
 Hallelujah ! Symbol bright 
 Of divine, impartial light 
 Is the sun that taketh heed 
 Of the flower and the weed. 
 
 Hallelujah ! Even so 
 Mercy beams on all below ; 
 Nor to saints its smiles confines, 
 But on guilt forgiving shines. 
 
 Hallelujah ! Full and free 
 Swelled the Hebrews' choral glee, 
 As to Palestine they sped, 
 By the God of battles led. 
 
 Hallelujah ! May our race, 
 Heirs of promise and of grace, 
 Enter heav'n beyond life's goal, 
 Blessed Canaan of the soul ! 
 
 Haiaei,ujah ! 
 163 
 
Hymns. 
 
 -| Q'J Glory to God ! whose outstretched hand 
 Hath smitten Pharaoh's mighty band. 
 Let songs through all the tribes resound, 
 Ransom for Israel hath been found, 
 A refuge from the scourge and chain, 
 A shield from the oppressor's reign. 
 
 The Red Sea is in triumph past ; 
 
 Praise to the Ruler of the blast ! 
 
 At whose strong breath the waves rolled by, 
 
 And left the deep foundation dry. 
 
 Behold the pride of Egypt checked, 
 
 Her princes, priests, and warriors wrecked. 
 
 In vain to helpless gods they plead 
 For succor in the hour of need ; 
 No providence like ours they know, 
 To make the flood its prey forego. 
 Rider and steed in terror sink, 
 While Judah gains the desert's brink. 
 
 Sole King of heaven and earth ! protect 
 The residue of Thy elect ! 
 Let piety redeem their souls. 
 Whom sin in fearful bondage holds ! 
 O Israel ! hear hear angel tone, 
 And bow before One God alone I 
 
 1 QA Hallelujah ! 
 
 Sing ever thus before the Lord, 
 O Israel ! with one accord 
 
 His name thus glorify ; 
 Such tribute piety demands 
 From dwellers in the desert sands, 
 And nations proud and high, 
 
 Hallelujah ! 
 
 164 
 
Hymns. 
 
 Hallelujah ! 
 
 In battle who shall be our shield ? 
 By whom shall our wounds be healed, 
 
 By Thee, O God Supreme? 
 Saviour, in danger and distress, 
 Who can alone, all wrongs redress, 
 And man from sin redeem, 
 
 Hallelujah ! 
 Hallelujah ! 
 When before Judah's host He past, 
 Earth from its orb night's shadow cast, 
 
 And brighter grew than day ; 
 As changing to a golden cloud, 
 The moving columns dusky shroud, 
 Unveiled his glory lay. 
 
 Hallelujah ! 
 Hallelujah? 
 
 On, on the holy standards new, 
 And victory the angel knew 
 
 Whose light her course controls ; 
 And to the legions of the Lord 
 Gave liberty — the blest reward 
 Of their confiding souls. 
 
 Hallelujah ! 
 
 Hallelujah ! 
 
 Woe to the courser and the car, 
 Struggling to stem the liquid bar, 
 
 That would their progress check ; 
 Woe to the prince, whose daring band, 
 Braved Him in whose almighty hand, 
 Redemption lies, and wreck. 
 
 Hallelujah ! 
 
 Hallelujah ? 
 And now from the triumphant ranks 
 Sweet minstrels send melodious thanks 
 To God, for ever near ; 
 165 
 
Hymns- 
 
 Whose spirit like the parting sun, 
 Smiled on the work itself had done, 
 And left a glory there. 
 Hallelujah ! 
 
 Hallelujah ! 
 
 When first devotion's heart was stirred, 
 It found a volume on this word, 
 Dropt from a seraph's tongue ; 
 And, oh J when life is on the wane, 
 By faith shall this celestial strain 
 Be to man's spirit hung. 
 
 Hallelujah I 
 
 PENTECOST. 
 
 Eet us to prayer ! it is the holy time, 
 When Moses stood on Sinai's mount sublime, 
 Communing with that uncreated One, 
 Whose glory on his brow reflected shone. 
 
 Earth reeled in presence of its mighty King, 
 From whom eternal truth and knowledge spring ; 
 Red lightnings quivered o'er the conscious sod, 
 As man revealed the graven laws of God. 
 
 O house of Jacob ! upon "eagles' wings" 
 Triumphant borne through desert wanderings ; 
 Ye who have been the Lord's peculiar choice, 
 For ever in that covenant rejoice ! 
 
 Oh ! treasure until life itself departs 
 Those precious statutes in your inmost hearts ! 
 Cause every member of your household band 
 Daily to meditate on each command ; 
 
 Until the spirit of those words divine, 
 Sheds on their souls its influence benign ! 
 Blessing and curse are both before ye set, 
 May ye the promise win, and ward the threat ! 
 166 
 
Hymns. 
 
 We bring not to our holy shrine, 
 Gath' rings like those of Palestine ; 
 No golden sheaves, or olives green, 
 Or clustering grapes may there be seen ; 
 
 No harvest-song is heard to swell, 
 Where Hebrews in their exile dwell ; 
 Yet mourn not Israel for this, 
 Bring ye the fruits of righteousness ! 
 
 Cultivate virtue's holy ground, 
 Where pure philanthropy is found ; 
 That human vine which in its folds, 
 With loving clasp its neighbor holds. 
 
 Let peace its palmy branches spread, 
 And charity its balm-drops shed ; 
 Meek faith unto the altar bring, 
 And tears for trespass-offering. 
 
 Fruits of the spirit consecrate 
 To God, supremely wise and great ; 
 Reapers of grace shall ye then be 
 In fields of immortality. 
 
 CONFIRMATION HYMNS. 
 
 1 87 ^°^ ' to my s Pi r ^' s great delight, 
 I Thy law in childhood learned, 
 When faith towards my wond'ring sight, 
 
 Thine eternal tablets turned ; 
 Showing with what abundant grace, 
 
 Father ! Thou with hand divine 
 Didst those testimonies trace, 
 
 Which now mark man's moral line. 
 167 
 
Hymns. 
 
 Young are the lips that venture now, 
 
 In thy gracious presence, Lord ! 
 To pronounce the solemn vow, 
 
 Listening angels will record ; 
 Yet firmly, freely we respond 
 
 Unto piety's appeal, 
 Now to take on us the bond, 
 
 Under confirmation's seal ! 
 As members enter Israel's fold, 
 
 With consent of heart and mind, 
 In fellowship of faith enrolled, 
 
 Until life shall be resigned ; 
 In every clime beneath the sun, 
 Loudly will we e'er proclaim, 
 That the Lord our God is One ! 
 
 And adore His holy name. 
 Heavenly Sire ! watchers station 
 
 O'er the wavering and the weak, 
 Who the meshes of temptation, 
 
 Have not strength enough to break ; 
 Oh ! let not sin, (an infant yet 
 
 At the threshold of the soul,) 
 There mature, decoys to set, 
 
 All its movements to control. 
 
 Guide of innocence ! direct us 
 
 Onward to salvation's road. 
 From those passions still protect us, 
 
 Which e'en youthful hearts corrode. 
 Links of love let us not sever, 
 
 By rude strife or wrathful words ; 
 But unite in kind endeavor, 
 
 Closer still to bind its chords. 
 
 Thou sendest angels pure to guard 
 The cradles by our mother rocked, 
 
 These first the gates of truth unbarred, 
 And with these in prayer we talked. 
 168 
 
Hymns. 
 
 And when in earth's last cradle set, 
 
 The trembling soul would heav'n reach, 
 
 These as its holy guardians yet 
 Shall the young immortal teach. 
 
 188 ** ap Py ne wnom nature mouldeth, 
 Virtue's impress to receive, — 
 Whom her moral law upholdeth, 
 And will to her practice cleave. 
 
 Happy he who seeks promotion 
 Only where her ranks are found ; 
 
 Disciplined by true devotion, 
 Fearlessly to tread her ground. 
 
 Happy he who, young and tender, 
 
 Enters piety's abode ; 
 Prayers to breathe, and praises render, 
 
 For the gifts by God bestow' d. 
 
 Happy he who as his preacher 
 Hath that angel from above, 
 
 Frailty's most indulgent teacher ; 
 Blessed, pure, benignant love ; 
 
 Who as Mercy's envoy meekly 
 Judges young transgressors here, 
 
 In unguarded moments weakly 
 Drawn into corruption's sphere ; 
 
 Who, when earthly parents perish, 
 Tidings to the orphan brings : 
 
 God the fatherless will cherish 
 'Neath the shadow of His wings. 
 
 Happy he who humbly hearkens 
 To religion's voice in youth, 
 
 That when time his prospect darkens, 
 Cheers him with the beams of truth. 
 
 169 
 
Hymns. 
 
 Turn then, O ye young and careless ! 
 
 Leave awhile your sports, to learn 
 Laws to which, in seasons cheerless, 
 
 Ye for light and warmth may turn : 
 
 Precepts that shall overpower 
 
 Peril, poverty, and pain, 
 Such as in the last dread hour, 
 
 Victory o'er death shall gain ! 
 
 Faith her erring children calleth, 
 God's forgiveness to implore ; 
 
 Promising each tear that falleth, 
 Ransom shall for sin procure. 
 
 God of my fathers ! in Thy sight 
 With reverential awe, I vow 
 To be confirmed an Israelite, 
 And only at Thy altar bow. 
 Merciful Lord ! with grief intense, 
 I think, how often when a child, 
 The paradise of innocence 
 
 Was by my passions rude defiled. 
 
 Oft did my wayward spirit break 
 
 The prime injunction of Thy law, 
 And for some worthless idol's sake, 
 
 Its worship from Thyself withdraw. 
 And, oh ! tho' from Thy holy book 
 
 Another text was daily read, 
 Vainly Thy sacred name I took, 
 
 By levity or anger led. 
 
 Blest Sabbath ! nature's golden hours, 
 
 Holy, sanctified, serene, 
 When children yet with youthful pow'rs, 
 
 The fruits of godliness should glean, 
 170 
 
Hymns. 
 
 No incense from that little urn, 
 
 Where infant life its spark secretes, 
 
 Was brought before Thy shrine to burn, 
 Whose bounty lavished countless sweets. 
 
 Nor, though an angel's voice might call 
 
 For silence in the house of pray'r, 
 And show the writing on the wall : 
 
 ' 'Know before whom thou standest here ! ' ' 
 From idle converse would I pause ; 
 
 Regardless of paternal threats 
 'Gainst those who coldly serve Thy cause, 
 
 I failed to pay my filial debts. 
 
 Remembrance now my soul alarms, 
 
 By bringing back in sad review, 
 The guardians to whose fost'ring arms 
 
 I sun"' ring or in sorrow flew, 
 Wounded by my rebellious ways, 
 
 Infringing on that great command : 
 "Honor thy parents, that thy days 
 
 Be long and happy in the land." 
 
 "Thou shalt not covet !" Woe is me ! 
 
 Forgetful of that charge divine, 
 Not without envy could I see 
 
 A neighbor's gift excelling mine ! 
 O gracious God ! dare I then stand 
 
 Before Thee as a candidate 
 For place among the chosen band, 
 
 Who shall Thy law perpetuate ? 
 
 But hark ! A seraph whispers now : 
 "Courage ! and from thy sins depart ! 
 
 God will accept thy contrite vow, 
 And make thee of His fold a part. 
 
 171 
 
Hymns. 
 
 Be thou a Hebrew, sanctified, 
 
 His Unity to promulgate, 
 Nor, tho' dissenting brothers chide, 
 
 From thy great purpose deviate. 
 
 In Providence then firmly trust, 
 
 B'en when it seemeth most to frown ; 
 It raiseth meekness from the dust, 
 
 And to it brings the haughty down. 
 God's promise reacheth to the tomb, 
 
 Whence righteous spirits shall migrate, 
 Immortal graces to assume, 
 
 And all His glory contemplate." 
 
 SCHOOL HYMNS. 
 
 1 QO Oh ! fill our hearts, Almighty King ! 
 With gratitude to Thee, 
 That we Thy praise may gladly sing, 
 In all humility. 
 
 May we instruction now receive, 
 With willing heart and mind, 
 
 And all Thy laws, O God ! believe, 
 Who art so just and kind ; 
 
 Who watchest o'er our actions here, 
 And guardest us from ill ; 
 
 Oh ! teach us humbly to revere, 
 And bow before Thy will. 
 
 And when our souls thou callest hence 
 To life beyond the tomb, 
 
 May there our youth we recommence 
 For everlasting bloom 
 
 172 
 
POEMS. 
 TO PERSECUTED FOREIGNERS. 
 
 [From the Southern Patriot, February 23, 1820.] 
 23 Years Old. 
 
 Fly from the soil whose desolating creed, 
 Outraging faith, makes human victims bleed, 
 Welcome ! where every Muse has reared a shrine, 
 The respect of wild Freedom to refine. 
 
 Upon OUR Chieftain's brow no crown appears; 
 No gems are mingled with his silver hairs. 
 Enough that Eaurels bloom amid its snows, 
 Enriched with these, the sage all else foregoes. 
 
 If thou art one of that oppressed race, 
 Whose name's a proverb, and whose lot's disgrace, 
 Brave the Atlantic — Hope's broad anchor weigh, 
 A Western Sun will gild your future day. 
 
 Zeal is not blind in this our temp 'rate soil ; 
 She has no scourge to make the soul recoil. 
 Her darkness vanished when our stars did flash; 
 Her red arm, grasped by Reason, dropt the lash. 
 
 Our Union, Liberty and Peace imparts, 
 Stampt on our standards, graven on our hearts ; 
 The first, from crush'd Ambition's ruin rose, 
 The last, on Victory's field spontaneous grows. 
 
 Rise, then, elastic from Oppression's tread, 
 Come and repose on Plenty's flowery bed. 
 Oh ! not as Strangers shall welcome be, 
 Come to the homes and bosoms of the free. 
 
 177 
 
POBMS. 
 
 THE APPLE. 
 
 An Apple lay where luxury reigned, 
 The Radiant glow by all disdained, 
 
 Soon caught my wandering eye ; 
 Strange, by what spell in Bden's bowers, 
 'Mid thousand lovelier fruits and flowers, 
 
 Fair Eve for this should sigh. 
 
 As thus, I thought, a laughing child, 
 Intent on freaks, and gambols wild, 
 
 The fruit a foot ball made ; 
 Which breaking, as it onward roll'd 
 Like Jotham's vocal trees of old, 
 
 Remonstrance thus essay 'd. 
 
 Rash boy — thy impious sport forebear, 
 And patient lend, thy youthful ear, 
 
 To what I shall unfold, 
 In Paradise, by Heaven blest, 
 The seeds of knowledge in my breast, 
 
 Lay pure as virgin gold. 
 
 The peerless Orange, bride of day, 
 Her proud alliance to display, 
 
 Disclosed her sun-gilt ring , 
 The purple grape its prison burst 
 With nectar to allay the thirst, 
 
 Of man — creation's King. 
 
 In vain Pomona's treasures gleam 'd, 
 And odorous trees unheeded stream' d, 
 
 Before the primal pair ; 
 Still panting for that precious food, 
 Whose taste made truth first understood, 
 
 And men, like gods, appear. 
 
 178 
 
Poems. 
 
 When Liberty arose with Tell 
 A tyrant's lawless pride to quell, 
 
 What victim earliest bled ? 
 With broken heart I fell to earth, 
 That independence might have birth, 
 
 Nor guiltless blood be shed. 
 
 Fair Science too, must homage yield. 
 For who to Newton first reveal' d 
 
 Attraction's laws profound? 
 'Twas I — who falling at His feet 
 Inspired the glorious conceit, 
 
 Which Fame will e'er resound. 
 
 Nor rest my proud pretensions here, 
 Enshrined within a golden sphere 
 
 As beauty's palm I shone ; 
 E'en majesty with wrath was fir'd, 
 And wisdom frowningly retir'd, 
 
 When by the fairest won. 
 
 Ah ! fickle Fate delighting still, 
 
 To change the course of Fortune's wheel, 
 
 Thou' st brought me to the dust. 
 Let this instruct thee wayward child, 
 How soon thy soul may be defiled — 
 
 And but in Mercy trust. 
 
 That gentle impulse then obey — 
 Nor let the triumph of a day, 
 
 Thy mortal doom efface ; 
 And as compassion fails or flows, 
 May joys prevail, or bitter woes, 
 
 Thro' life's unequal race. 
 
 179 
 
POKMS. 
 
 THE GIFT OF THE SNOWDROP. 
 
 Fair Nature sat on her throne, enshrined 
 
 Amid rocks, her colossal castles, 
 She had sent forth the thunder and trumpeting wind 
 
 To summon her courtiers and vassals. 
 Knights of the lyre then might be seen 
 
 Nymphs of the season's wooing 
 And Winter looking with deep chagrin, 
 
 At all that the Queen was doing. 
 
 For this was the Natal day of Spring 
 
 Her favorite dame-d'honneur ; 
 To whom she presented a tiny ring, 
 
 Tho' upon it there fell a tear; 
 That ring was but a simple flower 
 
 That tear a drop of dew 
 Yet had this talisman the power 
 
 To change Earth's general hue. 
 
 For tyrant winter feared to look 
 
 Upon the signet bright, 
 Which brought to blossom, bird and brook. 
 
 Redemption from his blight. 
 In vain he sought his icy shield 
 
 With its motto : "La mort des fleurs ;" 
 In vain to his myrmidon blasts appealed 
 
 To bring him his frosty spear. 
 
 Spirits of light round his snow feathers play, 
 
 Envoys despatched from the sky, 
 To bear from his helmet that plumage away, 
 
 And warn him that peril was nigh. 
 Yet he stirred not at all, till the Snow-Drop leapt 
 
 Fearlessly over his border ; 
 And watch by the temple of flowers kept 
 
 Like a pure and intrepid warder. 
 
 180 
 
Poems. 
 
 Spring lifted her rosy finger up 
 
 And her gift was seen afar 
 In the exquisite pearl and emerald cup 
 
 Of the floral "Morning Star." 
 Homeward in haste from their foreign tours, 
 
 Her warblers in troups returned ; 
 Trilling like sylvan troubadours, 
 
 The songs in exile learned. 
 
 The Nero of seasons then snatched up a card 
 
 And wrathfully traced P. P. C. 
 It lies in the rack of the whimsical bard 
 
 Who welcomes it ever with glee. 
 And hence has the Snow-Drop become a sure token 
 
 That the advent of Flora is near 
 Yet oft has that trinket of Nature been broken 
 
 Because neither fragrant or rare. 
 
 My own lily goblet I fill to the brim 
 
 With wine of the temperance brand 
 Dew bubbles alone on my beverage swim 
 
 By poets the most in demand. 
 To the Vernal Victoria who splendor condemns, 
 
 I pledge my allegiance and love ; 
 Golconda is shamed by my sovereign's gems 
 
 The buds of the garden and grove. 
 
 ON READING "THE MOTHERLESS." 
 (By Mrs. Abdy.) 
 Oh ! well has thou and truly, told the semi-orphan's woe 
 Who in a world so wide and cold, no mother's care may 
 know — 
 
 Thy fingers swept athwart the cords of every human heart ; 
 
 Accompanied by tender words, that made the tear-drops 
 
 start. 
 
 Sing on ! thy task is yet, sweet Bard, but partially achieved; 
 
 Another lives — yet more ill-starred, than were thy half 
 
 bereaved. 
 
 181 
 
POKMS. 
 
 Hope at her birth her palette hid, life had no touch of light 
 For childhood oped its languid lid, upon a Mother's 
 blight. 
 
 And memory in pity drew, over her father's fate 
 
 A curtain of too deep a hue for her to penetrate. 
 
 It was enough for her to learn, with agony intense 
 
 She from a Mother's grave must turn, Life's journey to 
 commence. 
 
 I saw her neath a stranger's roof, among his household bevy; 
 
 Her dress as black as fortune's woof, her eyes as dark 
 and heavy. 
 
 I should have known her from the rest without the mourn- 
 er's garb ; 
 
 Have felt that in her little breast, was sheathed the 
 orphan's barb. 
 
 Yet were her guardians not unkind, her playmates not un- 
 feeling ; 
 
 She for a parent's blessing pined, while they to their's 
 were kneeling. 
 
 I could have bidden that lorn girl thrice welcome to my 
 dome ; 
 
 But my shell too, for that stray pearl, wanted the tints 
 of Home. 
 
 Tints that within the soul ungrained, resist time's rushing 
 wave ; 
 
 Pleiads have vanished, — flower's waned, these flourish 
 to the grave. 
 
 I could not bear the restless eye that seemed the lost to seek; 
 
 Heedless of pleasure's butterfly whose wings the buoyant 
 break. 
 
 I marked in every glance and tone, the shadow of the past, 
 
 And knew that she must stand alone, 'mid crowds how- 
 ever vast. 
 
 I would her various fortunes trace, for they my heart have 
 wrung ; 
 
 182 
 
} ■> 
 
 Poems. 
 
 Had I but half the pensive grace, for which thy lay was sung. 
 But lady — when thy lyric sweets, on my remembrance press, 
 My timid Muse in haste retreats, before "The Motherless 
 
 ENIGMA. 
 Three Bards in the pure undefiled English tongue, 
 Of various "Pleasures" alternately sung, 
 One for the theme of his versification, 
 Selected the "Pleasures of Imagination." 
 Another one gave to his fancy free scope, 
 And melodiously chanted, the Pleasures of Hope. 
 Past enjoyments, the last of these three Poets chose, 
 And before us, the "Pleasures of Memory" rose ; 
 Now tell me the names, of the minstrels so gifted, 
 That Fame to her pedestal, each has uplifted. 
 
 Answer: 
 Sons of Britain are Akenside, Rogers and Campbell 
 Whose works time delights to reset and enamel. 
 
 REPLIES TO A FEW OF MONTGOMERY'S POETIC 
 
 QUESTIONS. 
 ' 'Flowers Wherefore Do Ye Bloom V } 
 
 We were born in a world where the spring never waned 
 
 A coronet we for the first bridal wreathed ; 
 Ere whispering Sin, woman's purity stained 
 
 Whose frailty and blush to our Queen were bequeathed, 
 But the Spirit of perfume though sullied, and shorn 
 
 Of the sweetness it shed on the fair brow of Eve ; 
 To wedded L,ove ever pure incense hath borne, 
 
 And garlands for Glory yet lingers to weave. 
 When thou gifted Minstrel art summoned by doom, 
 
 Our balms will be mingled with tears on thy tomb. 
 
 "Stars ! Where for e Do Ye Rise?" 
 
 We are Heaven's ambassadors, holy and bright, 
 With mortals a treaty of Faith to effect ; 
 
 183 
 
Poems. 
 
 Like souls upon Earth, we are pilgrims of light, 
 
 Created the essence divine to reflect. 
 Radiant atoms are we of Eternity's sun, 
 
 Undimmed by duration, untouched by decajr ; 
 Our goal (by Omnipotence fixed) shall be won, 
 
 When immortals behold the wrecked world pass away ; 
 When thou who hast asked why the stars should arise, 
 
 Wilt thy own answer read by the lamps in the skies. 
 
 "Ye Clouds, What Bring Ye in your Train?" 
 
 We are ariels all to the planet of day, 
 
 Through islands of air, at his bidding we flee ; 
 We are liveried oft in his own rich array 
 
 And laden with spoils from the earth and the sea. 
 Our task is to gather up spangles of dew, 
 
 And shower them down upon Summer's green robe ; 
 Tempestuous Spirits to raise or subdue, 
 
 And chequer the Seasons that circle the globe. 
 Behind our curtains, snow-crystals we mould. 
 
 For the dead Avalanche's colossal frost tower . 
 Or, op'ning dark mines of electrical gold, 
 
 Reveal the red Lightning's sublime throne of power. 
 But the one "little cloud" of thy fancy's creation, 
 
 Only floats brightly upward to Fame's elevation. 
 
 ''Bow in the Cloud j What Token Dost Thou Bear ?" 
 
 When the floodgates of Ocean in ire were oped, 
 
 And Light from the Universe turned and retreated, 
 The tears by the Angel of Mercy then dropt. 
 
 Were caught by the tremulous beams as they fleeted 
 Thus mingled, the Rainbow's mosaic appeared 
 
 Which frailty's Avenger, relenting approved, 
 The surges recoiled as Omnipotence reared 
 
 The halo first wrought by the seraph he loved ! 
 This token sweet poet, is Faith's brilliant charter, 
 
 That of justice divine, man shall ne'er be the martyr. 
 
 184 
 
Poems. 
 THE COMET AGAIN. 
 
 An extravagant use has been made of the poetic license at the con- 
 clusion of the following verses, where it is assured that stars are 
 brought down as souls are borne up by the power of spiritual magnet- 
 ism. That in obedience to this principle the lost Pleiad left her 
 Sisters in the sky to become a brilliant witness to its truth. Rhymes 
 indeed have as many difficulties about boundary lines as reasoners, 
 and often quarrel with common sense for encroachments on legiti- 
 mate borders. A reward will therefore be given of the finest pearl 
 in the coronet of poetry to any of the Woodbridges, Willards, Mit- 
 chells, Olivers, &c, who will declare the proper latitude of fancy. 
 
 In her parlor one evening Astronomy sat 
 
 In dishabille quite at her ease, 
 Engaged with the muses in classical chat 
 
 About fame and her fair devotees. 
 
 Before them lay Somerville's volume sublime 
 Where thoughts as resplendent as stars 
 
 Sparkle out from the soul of a daughter of time 
 As she bounds, o'er the firmament's bars. 
 
 They proposed to read over some passages then 
 And make extracts for memory from it 
 
 But scarcely had each of them taken a pen, 
 When there unannounced stood a Comet ! 
 
 Recovering first from her terrible fright 
 
 Urania glanced down at her robe 
 And said had she dreamed on so rainy a night 
 
 Such a guest would have honored her globe, 
 
 She had surely been decked in the brightest regalia 
 
 Her heavenly wardrobe afforded 
 E'en such as she wore on her throne in Italia 
 
 Whose splendor all bards have recorded. 
 
 How much (thought the Comet) the nymphs of the skies 
 
 Resemble the belles of the earth ; 
 Alike they both tinsel and finery prize 
 
 But to neatness attach little worth. 
 
 185 
 
Poems. n 
 
 The hostess suspecting with feminine tact 
 
 That her visitor meant to remain 
 Declared her state chambers with stars were so packed 
 
 Not another admission could gain. 
 
 Compose yourself lady replied the bold stranger 
 
 The wildest knight errant above, 
 Can sleep quite as well in Pegasus 's manger 
 
 As on beds lined with down from the dove. 
 
 Desisting at last from all shallow excuses 
 
 For household disorder and dress 
 With tears in her eyes she the theme introduces 
 
 That e'er must her feelings distress. 
 
 Oh ! say can you give any tidings whatever 
 
 Of a beautiful Pleiad of mine ? 
 From a mother's embrace will the destinies sever 
 
 A spirit so pure and divine ? 
 
 Oh ! tell me the lost one in exile is shining 
 Though far from my presence removed 
 
 No more will I weep or indulge in repining 
 If life is yet spared my beloved. 
 
 The Comet related his meeting one day 
 
 With a Pleiad whose tremulous light 
 Seemed bound some invisible hand to obey 
 
 That to earth was directing its flight. 
 
 The star of thy heart which thou mournest as dead 
 
 Thus fell to the valley of tears ; 
 Deep mysteries soon to the world shall be read 
 
 By the light which from heav'n it bears. 
 
 And there is a magnet of truth in the skies, 
 
 That reversely shall act on the soul, 
 Compelling it higher and higher to rise 
 
 Till it reach immortality's goal. 
 
 186 
 
Poems. 
 TKK WIDOW'S PETITION, 
 
 Praying the Governor not to Sanction the 
 Suspension of Banks. 
 
 Suspend them not ! Suspend them not, kind rulers of the 
 
 State, 
 Nor yet more bitter make the lot of one bereaved by fate. 
 Of all that gives to life a zest, love, confidence and hope, 
 A fond, confiding, faithful breast, on which her tears might 
 
 drop. 
 
 L,ess for myself do I now plead, than for my orphans 
 
 young. 
 Oh ! could you hear, you sure would heed, each little 
 
 plaintive tongue. 
 
 L,ook, father, on thy own sweet girls, ah ! not less fair are 
 
 mine ; 
 Though tears have been their only pearls, since their lost 
 
 sire's decline ; 
 God save thee ! but a moment, think of death in thy 
 
 domain 
 Withdrawing thee, the firmest link in the domestic chain ! 
 
 The widow's pittance from her hurled, (in banks that 
 vested lay); 
 
 Thy children cast upon the world, to poverty a prey. 
 
 Oh ! to thy mind this image bring, and thou wilt dash to 
 earth, 
 
 The pen, that with an adder's sting, would give such mis- 
 ery birth. 
 
 187 
 
POEMS- 
 IRELAND. 
 
 A beam from heaven breaks at last upon the Emerald 
 
 Isle, 
 That of its bounty seemed bereaved, its blessing and its 
 
 smile, 
 The Angel of Benevolence her banner has unfurled 
 And thrillingly f or sympathy appeals to freedom's world. 
 
 In Mercy's name, (which is indeed but Charity above), 
 It calls upon us to fulfill her covenant of love — 
 And to that call with one consent, we tenderly respond, 
 And hallow with our tears the bread required by her 
 bond. 
 
 There echoed late from Erin' s shore a long and piercing 
 cry, 
 
 In which were blended all the tones of mortal agony. 
 
 We dwell upon a mother's wail, most wild and broken- 
 hearted, 
 
 The seraph of the cradle from her cabin has departed. 
 
 *Her sleeping babe no longer smiles, its livid lips are sealed — 
 But Heaven now has to its soul a brighter home reveal' d; 
 It wakes among its cherub-mates that bliss to realize, 
 In dreams so gently whispered once by wanderers from the 
 skies. 
 
 But she who watched distractedly its breathless deep 
 
 repose, 
 Forgets the balm a father's hand applies to human woes! 
 
 *This alludes to the beautiful superstition that when a child smiles in its sleep, 
 it is listening to the whisper of an angel. 
 
 188 
 
Poems. 
 
 Not to her touch but to her heart, Death's presence is 
 
 betrayed, 
 Her infant is no colder now, where shroudless it is laid, 
 Than when in mockery of life the vital spark still 
 
 shone 
 Through limbs to which the luxury of rags was e'en 
 
 unknown. 
 
 And on that mother's memory forever is engraved 
 
 How plaintively another child a grain of corn had 
 craved, 
 
 And how her words had failed to make its spirit under- 
 stand, 
 
 That earth's green bosom to the dead would now alone 
 expand. 
 
 Do we in this a single case of wretchedness reveal ? 
 
 'Tis but the type of thousands who for succor now 
 
 appeal. 
 And oh ! shall any harp be mute when from the land of 
 
 song 
 The voice of supplication bursts from a despairing throng? 
 
 No ! by that honored minstrel's shade who nobly burntf 
 
 his lyre 
 To kindle for the traveller a bright and cheering fire. 
 The heart and lute of every bard, the humble and the 
 
 high, 
 Shall charitably harmonize to hush Hibernia's cry. 
 
 On tablets of beneficence one single law we read, 
 And this commands love's ministry to every child of 
 need, 
 
 tFact. 
 
 189 
 
Poems. 
 
 No matter what may be the clime, that spot is holy- 
 ground, 
 
 Where gleanings for the indigent in every field are 
 found. 
 
 Faith here has no discordant tone around her shrines assem- 
 bling, 
 
 Men pray that Ireland no more may taste the "cup of 
 trembling." 
 
 They ask not whether famine may not be a chastening 
 rod, 
 
 Their sacrifice is offered to a universal God ! 
 
 ENIGMA. 
 
 My first is the product of brisk operatives, 
 Whose masonic achievements astonish the natives. 
 Though to Flora no better than burglars they seem, 
 For to rifle her banks is their uniform scheme. 
 Choice nectar likewise they can skillfully brew, 
 Such as now in my first is presented to view. 
 
 My second the poets describe as a ''queen," 
 Whose reign though less brilliant, is far more serene, 
 Than that of her kinsman and great predecessor, 
 Who at times plays the part of a cruel oppressor. 
 
 My all is a period devoid of all strife, 
 
 But alas ! it occurs only once in a life. 
 
 That sweetest of seasons so bright and so brief, 
 
 Where Love in his garland finds no withered leaf ; 
 
 And hope like a siren, the heart can decoy, 
 
 With melodious warblings prophetic of joy. 
 
 Honeymoon. 
 
 190 
 
Poems. 
 
 CAMILLE DEMOUSLINS TO HIS WIFE, 
 Written a Short Time Previous to His Execution, 
 
 Adieu Lucile ! from me life's shore 
 
 Now rapidly recedes ; — 
 For thee its flower- time is o'er, 
 
 Earth yields but thorns and weeds. 
 
 Thee still my loving eyes behold, 
 
 My fettered arms embrace ! 
 Thy heart my severed head shall hold, 
 
 Love's chosen resting place. 
 
 In Liberty's blest cause, Lucile, 
 
 My spirit long has striven— 
 For this, by tyranny's red steel, 
 
 The cord of life is riven. 
 
 Yet mourn not for thy martyred spouse— 
 
 My faithful, fond Lucile ! 
 To Freedom give thy future vows — 
 
 Before her altar kneel. 
 
 Remember, love, that mortal clay 
 
 Is but the soul's Bastile — 
 Which keep out the celestial ray, 
 
 Its captive pants to feel. 
 
 To God I send a last appeal, 
 
 As I to death advance 
 To guard and bless my lorn Lucile, 
 
 And save my native France ! 
 
 Fast, fast," the shore of life retreats — 
 
 The scaffold meets my view ! 
 Again, again, my heart repeats 
 
 Lucile ! my bride ! adieu ! 
 191 
 
Poems* 
 
 THE PRODIGAL SON. 
 
 The Palm-trees are waving in morn's purple light 
 And Camels are bending beneath their broad shade, 
 
 To receive from yon pilgrim a burden more slight, 
 Than that on the heart of a Father now laid. 
 
 Sublime in his sadnes the Sire advances— 
 
 His faltering steps by his first-born sustained ; 
 
 On the self-exiled stripling he pensively glances ; 
 
 The child, who his grey-haired control now disdained. 
 
 Behold ! has thy bosom no filial access, 
 
 That tenderness touching thy soul may subdue ? 
 
 No chord, fond remembrance, may feelingly press, 
 The thrilling vibrations of I/Ove to renew ? 
 
 Ah ! no ! thou wilt fly from thy guardian and guide 
 With the crafty and courtly thou' It mingle afar ; 
 
 And thy youth on the passion's tempestuous tide 
 Will struggle and weep for its lost beacon star ! 
 
 Fare thee well ! Fare thee well ! at distance thou 'It think 
 Of thy home and the placid delights thou'st forsaken, 
 
 Nay bow thy proud head — from my blessings ne'er shrink, 
 In the land of the stranger, pure thoughts 'twill awaken 
 
 Impatient the wayward youth goes on his way — 
 His fancy outstripping the swift camel's speed ; 
 
 In banquets and revels brief years pass away, 
 'Till Purity, Plenty and Peace are all fled. 
 
 The Palm-trees are waving in morn's purple light ! 
 
 A Pilgrim is standing beneath their broad shade ; 
 His eye fain would look on that Heav'n so bright, 
 
 But his soul's pious impulse by sin is dismayed. 
 
 192 
 
Poems. 
 
 In sorrow the feeble form heavily bent, 
 
 And his cold slimy lips showed that famine was near ; 
 The sharp bones his fragments of finery rent, 
 
 And his once haughty brow revealed trenches of care. 
 
 Yet nature, thy vision than Eagles more piercing, 
 Nor griefs sad mutations, nor guilts can evade ; 
 
 One glance — and the Prodigal Son is rehearsing 
 
 On his Sire's fond breast, how the meek had been made. 
 
 Enough my lost darling ! my own famished heart. 
 
 In thy presence now blest, shall again taste of joy ; 
 'Neath the balm of affection, thy wounds shall depart, 
 
 And rapturous tears be thy cordial, my boy. 
 
 Hark ! Laughter and minstrelsy float on the gale 
 Still rising on jealousy's e'en like a knell, 
 
 "Shall the toil of my prime of its recompense fail ? 
 And honor be his, who from virtue late fell ?" 
 
 Ah, cease • for the harps of the Seraphs are ringing, 
 The triumphs of mercy o'er spirits that err ; 
 
 Pure sighs from the soul of the penitent springing, 
 With their melodies reach the celestial sphere ! 
 
 Forbear ! nor pollute with thy envious plaint, 
 What angels delight to behold and record ; 
 
 For frailty redeemed from corruptions dark taint, 
 Is hallowed as Saints, in the sight of the Lord ! 
 
 CAIN. 
 
 O ! bring the rose, that bent its blushing head, 
 When Eden's bowers felt the Serpent's tread, 
 The Lily seek, whose vegetable snow, 
 Caught the first crystal-drop of human woe. 
 Twine the frail emblems round the Harp of Time, 
 In quivering cadence sing the birth of Crime, 
 O'er two fair shrines imagination bends — 
 On one alone the light of Heaven descends ; 
 
 193 
 
Poems. 
 
 From one alone the soul's pure incense springs 
 Its glowing wafture sped by Angel wings. 
 Not far remote from Eve's celestial heir, 
 Cain's unblest Urn sends up its lurid glare, 
 Pale, and portentous in his jealous pride, 
 The ruined spirit marks the ruddy tide 
 Yet streaming from the sacrificial steel, 
 While fitful murmurs, frenzied thoughts reveal. 
 In vain would timid Love, with tender art, 
 Lure truant joy back to his tortured heart, 
 The arms of Beauty round his bosom twined/ 
 Seem Snow-wreaths drifting on the stormy wind- 
 His sportive innocents in mute surprise, 
 Look up to learn the secret from his eyes ; 
 But, startled by their vengeful light' nings, fly 
 Like larks, recoiling from a lowering sky. 
 Alas ! each infant Passion wildly wakes, 
 And scowling Envy, Nature's barrier breaks : 
 While sanguine Murder dips his sable wing, 
 With horrid triumph in Pollution's spring, 
 Fiend ! Wilt thou not forbear a Brother's blood ? 
 Nor yield at Mercy's call, thy wrathful mood ? 
 Oh ! Think of her to meeting anguish stirred, 
 When first the Falcon crushed the timid bird. 
 If such, the bitter gushings of Remorse 
 Plow will that dread libation swell its course ? 
 In vain ! the primal Martyrdom is past, 
 A lingering death-cry fills the sullen blast ; 
 The Spoiler rushes from the sullied sod. 
 To hide his gory garments from his God ! 
 Delusive thought ! the Searcher's voice sublime, 
 Thunders the retribution of the crime. 
 From every mortal bond and blessing riven — 
 Exiled from Plope, thy heritage and Heaven ! 
 While on thy shrivelled brow a mighty hand, 
 Eternal wanderer, leaves Corruption's brand. 
 
 194 
 
Poems. 
 
 LINKS ON THE LOSS OF THE SHIP BOSTON. 
 
 Saw ye the Barque, that lately passed, in beautiful array? 
 Bounding- along the liquid fields, so buoyant, free and gay? 
 The flashing waters proudly swell, to bear it to its Mart, 
 And every brightening influence fell upon that gem of Art; 
 But frowning Heaven banished soon the elemental smile 
 And desolating Spirits rose, its lustre to defile, 
 The livid Ministers of wrath rush from their cloudy caves— 
 Their fiery arrows cleave the skies, and pierce the troubled 
 
 waves — 
 The lambent lightning circling flies around the shivering 
 
 mast, 
 
 As if a golden wreath upon the sacrifice were cast ; 
 
 Uncoiled, the crisping cordage lies clust'ring like snaky hair 
 
 About the wild and withered brow of envious despair ! 
 
 Sublime that meteor of the main, its parting glories bright 
 
 As when the regal Day declines upon his throne of light, 
 
 But Pity's interposing arm, amid the scene appears, 
 
 And o'er the human treasures there, her shield triumphant 
 rears ; 
 
 Unscathed each gallant soul escapes, from that tempestuous 
 fire — 
 
 Why mingles then the plaint of woe, when grateful prayers 
 
 aspire ! 
 Alas ! your surgy sepulchre enshrines one gentle form, 
 Too sensitive for earthly strife —too fragile for the storm, 
 For her, the tints of Health had fled, Decay was in their track, 
 The wanderer only sought to woo the rosy spirit back ; 
 But deeper grew the vital blight — the sainted victim fell — 
 The balm of Faith upon her lips — a blessing her farewell ! 
 Oh ! who shall sing the mighty grief, fraternal love op- 
 pressed, 
 When the ark of his redemption lost her trackless place of 
 
 rest ! 
 Forever be the harp untouched, rebellious grief inspires, 
 Celestial hope, alone may breathe, upon its trembling wires! 
 
 195 
 
Poems. 
 THE MURDER OF COL. HAYNE. 
 
 Lines suggested by the perusal of an account of Col. Hay tie's 
 murder, during the American Revolution. After an interview be- 
 tween the father and son, in prison, the latter attended him to the place 
 of execution, and became frantic from the impression of the scene. 
 
 Fettered, yet fetterless, 'mid the dungeon's gloom 
 Stood the majestic martyr ! On his brow 
 The mazy mysteries of thought were seen ; 
 Like twilight musings, where the inward beam 
 Contends against the darkness of despair. 
 Sudden, a sound of agony subdued, 
 Aroused him from his meditative trance. 
 Before him drooped his pale and trembling boy, 
 Bending to win his parting benediction, 
 It swelled the soul, and struggled thro' the lip ; 
 But when his hand essayed, the outward sign, 
 Vainly it warred against the cruel circlet, 
 "Curse on the coward's bond — the traitor's chain. 
 That strains my sinews in its cold embrace. 
 Yet, shake thy sorrow off, my gentle child, 
 And let a fiercer impulse nerve the breast ; 
 Disdain the stagnant sadness that arrests 
 The vengful current's bold impetuous course. 
 Oh ! that the lava of my bursting veins, 
 In its transmitted flow would fire thy soul. 
 It is for me to know the felon's fate ? 
 I, to whom lofty peril w T as delight ! 
 Yet, undefiled snail be the captive's corse ; 
 His country's triumph, shall dispel the taint, 
 And Freedom's glories, gild her champion's grave." 
 "Alas ! My father, thy ignoble heir, 
 Feels not the haughty grief thou would 'st inspire, 
 His life, his light, his luxury is here ! 
 This cell is luminous to his fond sense, 
 While thick' ning blackness now deforms the world. 
 Give me the banquet of thy presence still ; 
 
 196 
 
Poems. 
 
 Strive not my spirit to divorce from thine, 
 
 Nor scorn the stricken, who, with thee, would die." 
 
 Briton ! wert thou baptised at mercy's fount ? 
 
 Or was it frozen at thy fatal birth ? 
 
 Victor ! did'st thou behold the stony gaze, 
 
 The marble fixedness of mute despair 
 
 The swift retreat of reason from her throne, 
 
 When, on the tortured sense of filial love, 
 
 P A ill the defaced image of his sire ? 
 
 Yet peace to thee ! And may thy prisoned soul, 
 
 Ransomed from Death, attain its final goal ! 
 
 JOSEPH'S DREAM. 
 
 The Patriarch bowed before the eastern beam, 
 
 Like the gray herald of the golden day — 
 
 Awhile he lingered, for that rising light 
 
 Whose kindling lustre should his own efface. 
 
 But the prophetic dreamer slumbered on: 
 
 In Glory's bright meridian he seemed. 
 
 Celestial orbs their glistening spheres forsook: 
 
 Meteors flew ministrant to his commands, 
 
 And the careering planets at his feet 
 
 In visionary vassalage appeared. 
 
 Still the delusive spell his sense entranced, 
 
 While Israel's orison alone arose 
 
 Upon the odorous breezes of the morn, 
 
 But the mellifluous tones of infancy 
 
 Dissolved the deep enchantment of repose. 
 
 "Brother, my cherished lamb has bounded far, 
 
 And broke the flowery chain that Judah twined : 
 
 Wilt thou not seek the fleecy fugitive, 
 
 And lure the truant back to Benoni ?" 
 
 Forth sprang the youth, with fancied power, elate, 
 
 His sire saluted and implored to solve 
 
 The mystic import of the dreamy text. 
 
 197 
 
Poems. 
 
 Indignant he in those bright phantoms saw 
 
 Homage reversed, and silver-haired allegiance 
 
 In humble suppliance at the filial shrine. 
 
 As if the sun that cherished the spring flower, 
 
 Should yield the incense it was wont t 1 receive. 
 
 Yet soon relapsing into tenderness, 
 
 He kissed the forehead of the future seer 
 
 And in his rainbow robe, like Mercy's type, 
 
 But not, alas ! a covenant of peace 
 
 With fatal gladness Joseph fled the tent, 
 
 To seek his shepherd-brethren on the plain. 
 
 BONAPARTE AND THE SENTINEL. 
 
 The chieftain from his courser sprang, and with a flashing 
 
 eye 
 Grasped that tri-colored Banner he would defend or die, 
 Waving it proudly o'er the bridge, be bounded to its verge, 
 On to Areola's battlefield, his warriors to urge, 
 Shall Lodi's laurels wither here? Forbid it, Fame and 
 
 France ! 
 Follow your leader, gallant hearts — to Victory advance, 
 Dauntless each bosom, when he touched enthusiasm's chord, 
 And Austria's haughty genius bowed at that young hero's 
 
 word. 
 'Tis midnight and a measured tread upon the captured 
 
 ground, 
 Denotes that Valor's daring work, by Vigilance is crowned, 
 It ceases and on Glory's prop, the Sentinel reposes, 
 Transported to his cottage-home, amid his bower of roses, 
 By the delusive power that loves in flowery links to bind 
 The spirit that would scorn its sway, over the conscious 
 
 mind. 
 But soon upon that martial couch, a mighty hand isprest, 
 Yet gently, as a sire afraid to break his infant's rest. 
 
 198 
 
Poems. 
 
 Softly upon the verdant soil, the sleeper's head is laid, 
 While round the noble Corsican, the beams of Mercy 
 
 played. 
 And he who o'er Italia's plain victorious legions led, 
 Was now at the subaltern's post, pacing with noiseless 
 
 tread, 
 Horror ! the hours of duty past, a comrade brings relief, 
 At the qui vive the slumberer starts, it issues from his 
 
 chief ! 
 Napoleon ! Or do I yet dream ? Alas ! I am undone : 
 Farewell, my long- forsaken wife — farewell to thee my son ! 
 Dismiss thy fear — thou art not doomed to that ignoble death 
 Whose lightnings were decreed to blast the Traitor's tar- 
 nished wreath, 
 Sleep is thy only conqueror, invincible to all 
 E'en Bonaparte surrenders to its resistless thrall. 
 
 A FREAK OF FANCY. 
 
 A congress of animals lately convened, 
 When Renard, the subtle upon a stump leaned. 
 To declare the occasion that brought them together 
 At the tinkling summons of Signor Bell-wether, 
 He knew he possest not the Art oratorical, 
 The eloquent gesture, or grace metaphorical ; 
 Yet before public exigence everything vanished, 
 And therefore false shame from his bosom was banished, 
 As Genius, he said, was of no sect or station, 
 But a root known to nourish in every nation, 
 He could not, in justice to each fellow-brute, 
 Believe they were all of that gift destitute. 
 There are some among us much given to prating ; 
 While others less sprightly prefer ruminating. 
 Their various talents with due cultivation, 
 May elevate those to some high legal station, 
 While the latter adorning Philosophy's chair, 
 New temples to Fame may ambitiously rear. 
 
 199 
 
Poems. 
 
 Craniology now, with long strides is advancing ; 
 
 And though sages may call it, the art of romancing, 
 
 The Lynx, who is blessed with uncommon perception, 
 
 Foresees it will meet with a flattering reception. 
 
 I now recommend that we forthwith depute, 
 
 Some shrewd-looking, silver-tongued, garrulous brute, 
 
 The ablest Phrenologist soon to select, 
 
 Organic developments here to inspect, 
 
 Our several capacities thus ascertained. 
 
 We shall speedily know if it e'er was ordained, 
 
 That we should enjoy the diffusion of learning, 
 
 For which my aspiring spirit is yearning, 
 
 Then the envoy by this honored bod}^ is named, 
 
 Without more delay, let credentials be framed. 
 
 Goose-quills in abundance, conveniently stand ; 
 
 One of these may be dip't in the Great Cuttle's gland ; 
 
 From the Sheep, in a trice you may parchment procure, 
 
 And the Seal with its secrecy doubtless insure. 
 
 The speaker thought fit at this period to pause, 
 
 And his motion elicited general applause : 
 
 Except from the Serpent and Owl, who expected, 
 
 By hissing and hooting to have it rejected. 
 
 A few restive horses too, hoped by their neighs, 
 
 To escape the curb-rein that enlightenment lays ; 
 
 But pity alone or contempt was excited 
 
 For those who preferred to continue benighted. 
 
 And now a discussion the most animated, 
 
 Arose, about him who should be delegated. 
 
 The Crab was too backward, the Cur, too dogmatic 
 
 And the Porpoise (who had a great head) was asthmatic. 
 
 Categorical arguments would not be needed, 
 
 Therefore the pretentions of Puss were unheeded ; 
 
 The Dolphin changed color at being proposed, 
 
 And the Dormouse at that very meeting had dozed. 
 
 The Emute declared that his claim was Anterior 
 
 To anyone there, though they might be superior, 
 
 200 
 
Poems. 
 
 The herd, by a number of precedents showed, 
 That, to send out a Bull, was the Catholic mode. 
 To silence the clamor, a beautiful bird 
 Fluttered up to the Fox, and requested a word. 
 'Twas the Carrier-pigeon, the legate of L,ove 
 Whose right to that dignity none could disprove, 
 With his known shining qualities, speed was combined, 
 And each candidate soon, in his favor resigned. 
 May the loveliest of envoys, find grace in the sight 
 Of all, who dispense intellectual light. 
 
 THE BIRD OF PARADISE. 
 
 A Bird of Paradise was sometime since discovered in a garden of 
 one of the Northern States. The poet supposes it to be addressed 
 by the American Kagle. 
 
 Why, stranger hast thou left the spicy gale 
 
 Thy tissue-plumage on our fields to trail ? 
 A Peri's banner first thy pinion seemed, 
 
 Emblazed with tints from Eden's wreck redeemed. 
 Say, beauteous volatile — can it then be, 
 
 That thou enamoured too of Liberty, 
 Would for her perch that sweet Aroma shun 
 
 Whose balm is purest near the rising Sun ? 
 Thrice welcome, radiant pilgrim, to those groves, 
 
 Through which the Monarch-bird triumphant roves ! 
 Ay, linger here — let orient buds expand 
 
 For some colossal trampler of the land : 
 L,et the frail blossoms of the human Stem 
 
 Yield their crushed incense 'neath a diadem. 
 Here, Freedom's sensitive and starry flower 
 
 Recedes, elastic from the touch of power. 
 
 Oh ! would my timid wing might now retrace 
 
 It's erring flight back to my natal place, 
 Thy Sylvan deities my sense affright 
 
 Such verdant Titans startle suns of L,ight, 
 
 201 
 
Poems. 
 
 I dare not gaze upon thy dazzling eye, 
 
 And form dilating into Majesty. 
 If independence wears an aspect bold, 
 
 As that which Nature's image doth unfold, 
 Where the Sun cradles, let me seek my nest 
 
 Far from the fearful region of his rest. 
 
 Speed then ! ignoble trembler, turn and speed 
 
 Where fragrance mingles with the moral weed 
 Thy dastard spirit shrinks from the sublime 
 
 And clings, degenerate, to the Despot's clime, 
 Away • and when thy beauty's splendid lure, 
 
 Shall tempt the sordid weed, on thy loved shore, 
 Perhaps, thy sad, expiring thought may be 
 
 Would I had died among the glorious free ! 
 
 A DROP OF WATER. 
 
 A Drop of Water in the Ocean, complained of its insignificance ; it 
 was swallowed b}' an oyster and hardened into the celebrated pearl, 
 that decks the Persian diadem. 
 
 A single drop amid the boundless Main 
 
 Once fancied the soliloquizing strain : — 
 Why was I but a petty bubble born 
 
 Too insignificant for love or scorn ? 
 Why did I not into a lake expand 
 
 Or boldly, like a bay invade the land. 
 A giant's tear — yet on Creation's face 
 
 Seem I not dwindled to the pigmy race ? 
 In my pellucid globule, e'en a fly 
 
 Fearless of drowning might serenely lie, 
 As thus the water drop its Fate deplores, 
 
 A gaping oyster in its shell immures 
 The jealous rebel, who with fear congealed 
 
 Became a pearl, and left the liquid field. 
 
 202 
 
Poems. 
 
 Exalted to the brow of regal pride, 
 
 Ambitious gem, thou art to pomp allied. 
 In Nature's pageant, tremulously bright 
 
 Wert thou not lovelier than at grandeur's height ; 
 Callous, in thy conversion thou hast lost, 
 
 Reflection's power, once thy proudest boast. 
 The Sun, that kindled in thy crystal sphere, 
 
 Tints that might with the diamond's compare, 
 Now sees thy rayiess purity obscured 
 
 By every twinkler in the glittering horde. 
 
 THE RIVAL SENSES. 
 Two lovely sisters once referred to Reason's arbitration 
 Their several long-contested claims to general admiration, 
 Fair Visuala first appeared before the judgment seat, 
 And in her azure tunic looked most languishingly sweet. 
 Trembling awhile with downcast air, she dropt her snowy 
 
 veil 
 But kindling soon with confidence proceeded to appeal . 
 Through a contracted casement, long I gazed upon the 
 
 world, 
 Until by sentiment arra} r ed, by sympathy impearled, 
 I flashed in conscious beauty forth — and with a magic ball 
 Struck all the hidden chords of Love, and held the Heart 
 
 enthralled. 
 Mine is the elfin mirror too, whose fairy forms convey 
 Light to Imagination's cell, and 'round her, visions play, 
 When Time has o'er the tracer of Recollection past, 
 My rays regild the image his shadow had o'er cast. 
 Iris in vain with graceful curve might on the cloud recline 
 Were I not there her glowing hues and grandeur to define, 
 'Tis mine with graphic skill to mark the planetary blaze, 
 And track Urania's truant child through his erratic ways. 
 Should I on mimic Portraiture, my chrystal portals close 
 In vain on Nature's lineaments her vivid tints she throws. 
 No more — I see my eloquence your gravity disarms, 
 
 203 
 
Poems. 
 
 For even Reason boasts no shield against my various charms. 
 The Judge relaxed into a smile, when the soft pleader 
 
 ceased, 
 And from her painful silence next Auricula released, 
 A prelude on the drum was heard ere this appellant spoke 
 And at the sound the faculties though dormant, then 
 
 awoke. 
 Well has my rival now displayed attractions that may vie 
 For their enchanting elegance with aught beneath the sky. 
 But not exclusively her gift some of those vaunted powers: 
 Not hers alone th' inspiring form 'round dreaming Fancy 
 
 hovers ; 
 And Memory reposing oft upon Oblivion's brink 
 Starts when electric echo strikes Association's link. 
 Was she the sylph whose talisman touched sightless 
 
 Homer's muse? 
 O'er Milton's Eden did her spell celestial bloom diffuse? 
 Spirit of Melody ! to whom the mightiest have knelt, 
 That senseless nerve has never yet thy soft vibrations felt, 
 The melting cadence of thy song — the breathings of thy 
 
 shell, 
 Through me usurp th' impassioned soul and Feeling's 
 
 course impel. 
 To Reason now they both appeared so equal in their claims, 
 Alike so pleasing in their arts and in their generous aims, 
 Perplexed the Umpire, soon resigned the task of arbitration, 
 Declaring both, entitled were to general admiration. 
 
 THE METEOR AND THE FLYING FISH. 
 
 It was a brilliant summer eve, 
 
 When sportive Sylphs delight to leave 
 
 In crowds their distant caves ,* 
 And Fancy tracks their tiny prints 
 Among the fairest flower's tints 
 
 That ever dew-star laves. 
 I stood upon the Ocean's brink 
 
 204 
 
Poems. 
 
 And felt my spirit pant to link 
 
 Itself with loftier things, 
 When lo ! an exiled child of space 
 Th' ephemera of the starry race 
 
 A meteor earthward springs. 
 The semi-seabird marked its flight 
 And vainly strove to reach the height 
 
 From whence the ethereal fell, 
 Then bitterly broke forth in ire — 
 "Sun-born, yet ineffectual fire 
 
 Can erring nature tell 
 Why thou, a splendid mockery, 
 Impatient of the glorious sky 
 
 Shouldst briefly brighten here ? 
 While I, disdainful of the deep 
 In crystal confines still must sleep 
 
 Nor fill that genial sphere?" 
 I started for that thought allied 
 Itself to my aspiring pride, 
 
 That musingly conjured 
 Each spirit of intelligence 
 To break the bonds and bars of sense 
 
 That Heaven might be explored. 
 That circling free round Dian's throne 
 I might transpierce that mystic zone 
 
 Where worlds lie unrevealed ; 
 But Faith arrested Fancy here 
 And caught my penitential tear 
 
 On her celestial shield. 
 
 LELIA, OR LOVE'S MARTYR. 
 
 Pale was the Bride, as Purity's sweet rose 
 
 That lay on Thought's light throne in soft repose, 
 
 But paler far, that rival vestal's cheek, 
 
 205 
 
POKMS. 
 
 Where weeping Pity, traced wild Passion's wreck. 
 
 Yet lingering graces, in the ruin slept, 
 
 Soft touching relics, by the storm unswept. 
 
 The self-deriding instinct of Despair 
 
 Had placed a crimson blossom in her hair ; 
 
 And as the hectic herald of Decay 
 
 Within the sphere of smiles insidious lay, 
 
 So coiled corruption in that ruby cave 
 
 Seeking its banquet still at Beauty's grave. 
 
 But oh ! what thrilling tones the vault ascend ; 
 
 When wreathing wasted arms around her friend 
 
 Long hoarded feelings to her lips arise : 
 
 "Yes ! let my heart's strings latest harmonies 
 
 Though broken, and untuned to strains of joy 
 
 Swell out, to wish thee bliss without alloy, 
 
 Yet shrink not, should this truth thine ear assail 
 
 My burial shroud shall be thy bridal veil, 
 
 Twin-born with thine the hope that now has perished 
 
 Behold in him the idol both have cherished, 
 
 Oh ! false discretion, fatal source of woe ! 
 
 That when the fount of confidence would flow 
 
 With its cold breath, the gentle stream congealed 
 
 And left the worshipped one still unrevealed ; 
 
 Alas the shame — that he alone discerned 
 
 The lofty quarry to which Lelia turned 
 
 And strove to lure with gentle artifice 
 
 The fluttering falcon to the perch of Peace. 
 
 Ne'er swerving from the fond allegiance sworn 
 
 Yet soothing oft the sensitive forlorn. 
 
 I knew, I knew this chord would wing my soul 
 
 Yet fain must press it ere I reached my goal." 
 
 The sufferer ceased, and soon the waiting crowd 
 
 Saw in the bridal veil, her bridal shroud. 
 
 Her faint farewell, amid its folds w T ere breathed 
 
 And Love's sweet myrtles thus with cypress wreathed- 
 
 206 
 
Poems. 
 
 LOVE AND LAW. 
 
 A random shaft from Cupid's quiver, 
 Once struck a famous barrister ; 
 The lady was a cold deceiver, 
 Therefore his suit ne'er harassed her. 
 But during a long evening session, 
 When he to Hymen's bond alluded ; 
 She only laughed at his confession 
 And said the thought must be precluded. 
 The Muses with the Graces joined, 
 A lovely jury soon composed ; 
 To try the fellow who purloined 
 Hearts that no flaw had e'er disclosed. 
 Deeper in crime her soul to steep, 
 (As urged by the Solicitor ;) 
 This modern Macbeth murdered sleep, 
 When to his eyes a visitor. 
 To court subpoena' d the coquette 
 Was rashly gui^ of misprison ; 
 Her judges at defiance set, 
 And boldly plead without permission. 
 "Try me for larcenies in Love ?" 
 The law of Nature learn to read ; 
 Woman's prerogative 'twill prove, 
 And not a felon's flagrant deed. 
 If actionable such offence, 
 Ye Nine consulting justice strict, 
 Who steal with Fiction's keys each sense 
 I can of pilfering convict. 
 Not for myself but sex I plead, 
 Prescriptive right of breaking chains ; 
 Once from this privilege recede, 
 And not a wreck of power remains. 
 What penalty must I endure 
 In this case of attachment ? 
 Yon plaintiff-lawyer may procure 
 207 
 
Poems. 
 
 Of writs a whole detachment : 
 
 This form he feigns to love so well, 
 
 May even now incarcerate ; 
 
 I'll find new suitors in my cell, 
 
 Fearless your verdict I await. 
 
 Not guilty ! from the Graces burst 
 
 When the appeal was ended ; 
 
 But soon the sentence was reversed, 
 
 Nor mercy recommended. 
 
 At once the Muses seized their lyres, 
 
 Untwisted all the silver strings ; 
 
 And bound the culprit with their wires. 
 
 Who still in bondage smiles and sings. 
 
 TO SADNESS. 
 
 Mysterious monarch of the human soul ! 
 Who can define the bounds of thy control ? 
 In vassalage to thee imperial Queen 
 Bend frail and firm, the savage and serene, 
 Thy sable wing is seen alike to lower 
 O'er Fancy's terrace and o'er Reason's tower. 
 Darkening the forms of majesty o'er grace, 
 The variant powers e'er delight to trace. 
 In Pleasure's track we find thy frequent print 
 And beauty's brow tenacious of thy tint. 
 ' Mid all its bright revealings will betray 
 Thy shadow stealing oft o'er raptures ray. 
 Unbidden at the banquet thou' It dismiss 
 Each sparkling bubble from the bowl of bliss. 
 In vain may youth to song and dance be wooed, 
 Touch but a chord in Memory's solitude, 
 And all the magic of the minstrel's art 
 Shall fail to chase its echoes from the heart. 
 It is thy spirit then with serpent wile 
 Would in Love's Eden every flower defile, 
 
 208 
 
POKMS. 
 
 Yet mirth at best is treacherously bright, 
 And mocks the senses with its meteor light. 
 Fain would the pensive muse its flash evade 
 And languid rest within thy sombre shade. 
 Twining a wreath of thorns around my lyre 
 Thou sadness, shalt fore'er its chords inspire. 
 
 ON THE DEATH OF MRS. R. COHEN, 
 
 Who, with her two children, perished in the Edwina, on Monday, 
 
 June 25th. 
 
 A liquid firmament the ocean seemed, 
 
 A placid glory on its waters gleamed, 
 
 When buoyant late the lost Edwina past, 
 
 Proudly careering o'er the chrystal waste, 
 
 In wailing zephyrs, no aerial sprite. 
 
 Whispered dark bodings of approaching blight, 
 
 Blythely she sped, and spirits firm and frail 
 
 Sanguine within her covert wooed the gale, 
 
 But e'en from the pavilion of the sun, 
 
 The storm unheralded came hurling on, 
 
 Radiant in wrathful majesty awhile 
 
 The tempest masked its form but to beguile. 
 
 Stirred by the trumpet breezes, myriad waves 
 
 In foamy coronets forsook their caves, 
 
 Rushed like banditti on the reeling barque 
 
 And dashed those trembling pilgrims from their ark. 
 
 From one of these let Friendship lift the pall 
 
 And Virtue's offspring from oblivion call. 
 
 For though no marble orator proclaims 
 
 Her devotional and lofty aims, 
 
 The hearts inscription ne'er can be effaced 
 
 On which her moral image has been traced 
 
 The gentle guardian of domestic bliss, 
 
 'T was hers to press the ruffled plume of peace 
 
 209 
 
Poems- 
 
 Enchanting by her mien and manners bland. 
 
 In duty's sphere she waved a magic wand, 
 
 Subdued ambition sought no loud acclaim, 
 
 Her partner's plaudit was her highest fame, 
 
 Alas ! for him whose bosom feels the shaft 
 
 Deeper, as mem'ry doth her worth ingraft 
 
 The wild disorder of his wandering glance 
 
 Seeks her, incredulous of Fate's romance ; 
 
 Three broken chords life's harmony destroy. 
 
 The triple source of transitory joy ; 
 
 Their rifled bloom impatient to restore 
 
 His idols to the shrine of health he bore, 
 
 But death impetuous forestalled decay 
 
 And Hope long cherished lost that lingering ray. 
 
 Oh ! balmy pity thou a barrier rear 
 
 Nor let deep sorrow darken to despair, 
 
 Thy power shall lift his thoughts to purer spheres 
 
 And fervid faith exhale the mourner's tears. 
 
 THE PRIZE. 
 
 A Wreath and a robe of imperial dye, 
 For the one that kills Time, or compels him to fly 
 On gossamer wing with the lightning's speed ! 
 Who first will come forth for the promised meed ? 
 By the Nightingale perched on her rosy finger . 
 By the echoes of air that round her linger, 
 Tis melody sounding her sweetest shell, 
 And her softest lute for the wanderer's knell. 
 But the listener's laugh on the Zephyr is borne, 
 And the robe and the wreath yet remain unworn. 
 
 A grape-stone is levelled against his glass, 
 
 And Saturn awhile seems more swiftly to pass. 
 
 But woe to the Bacchanal whose rash hand 
 
 Thus wildly has shaken his golden sand ; 
 
 It recoils in dust in the reveller's head, 
 
 And the hoary for this, will more heavily tread. 
 
 210 
 
Poems. 
 
 Who next for a guerdon so precious applies ? 
 A shaft from the quiver of Cupid now flies. 
 Yet why waste his archery ? Does he not know, 
 That Time is of Love the inveterate foe ? 
 That the bloom of the heart, the hope we most cherish 
 In the snows of the withering spirit will perish ? 
 For the Graces the child made a dial of flowers, 
 The Sage laid an index of ice on the hours 
 Away then — the robe and wreath are unworn, 
 Truth will not award them to Beauty's third son. 
 The Muse in despair wished the prize to revoke, 
 When Toil seizing Time by his silver forelock, 
 Compelled him to fly with the lightning's speed, 
 And claimed from the Minstrel the promised meed. 
 Love, Music, and Wine, are too fleeting and light, 
 'Tis Labor that best can hasten Time's flight. 
 On his sun-burnt brow then let the wreath rest, 
 And his sinewy form in the Robe shall be drest. 
 
 EPIGRAM. 
 
 The following coincident actually occurred : 
 
 And am I no longer betrothed, dear mother ? 
 Oh Cupid ! suppose I should ne'er get another ? 
 And must I return his perfumed billet-deux 
 And the gold heart, that loveliest little bijou ? 
 
 Weep no more, dearest daughter, for such a deserter 
 I protest that your sorrows exceed those of Werther ; 
 And deeply it grieves me your feelings to shock 
 But he must be made to surrender your lock. 
 Oh ! would that were all of my delicate task. 
 To resign is more difficult far than to ask, 
 For indeed softly whispered the yet sobbing girl 
 My own hair is innocent — 'twas a false curl ! 
 
 211 
 
Poems. 
 # * * * 
 
 The gentleman on hearing the above, returned the lock with the 
 following couplet : 
 
 How false the foundation on which both have built, 
 If your hair was spurious —my heart was guilt. 
 
 THE REJECTION OF THE JEW BILL, BY THE 
 HOUSE OF LORDS. 
 
 ' 'And the heart of Pharaoh was hardened — neither would he let 
 the children of Israel go." 
 
 Why against Folly point satiric swords ? 
 
 Rise scornful Muse and sing the House of Lords ! 
 
 Let bigot pride your boldest stroke receive, 
 
 Patrician prejudice relentless cleave. 
 
 Who would have looked for Jesuitic tenets, 
 
 St. Omer's scourges within British Senates ? 
 
 Who could have dreamed a faggot yet would blaze, 
 
 Far more unquenchable than zealots raise, 
 
 Felled from the highest branches of a tree, 
 
 Rooted within the soil of Liberty ? 
 
 Spotless are now the records of old Spain ! 
 
 For Acts of Faith leave not so deep a stain, 
 
 Nor structures based on erring superstition, 
 
 As this Aristocratic Inquisition. 
 
 Was it a Vulture fierce or gentle Dove 
 
 Sent as the type of mediatorial love ? 
 
 Faithful disciples ! well ye emulate 
 
 Your intercessor by intolerant hate. 
 
 Forgetting Fate's antithesis, ye wield 
 
 Oppression's rod, instead of Mercy's shield. 
 
 Apostatizing from that plan divine, 
 
 Which grants to Justice no sectarian shrine. 
 
 A star once led to Virtue in the East, 
 
 Not such the sparkler on a ducal breast. 
 
 212 
 
POKMS. 
 
 This to no godlike attribute will guide, 
 Though Fame a Wellington has deified. 
 Hero ! if laurelled brow that name deserve. 
 Coward ! by nobler test — the moral nerve. 
 Proud Philistine, explore the secret spring, 
 That moved the puppets of thy martial ring : 
 In Israel's hand thou' It find the golden wire, 
 Whose impulse stirred Enthusiasm's fire. 
 And to this sordid bourn they would confine 
 The noble remnant of a lofty line ; 
 Crush the high aspirant to Glory's meed, 
 And bid him from her brilliant lists recede. 
 By civil excommunication blast, 
 Souls in the purest mould of Honor cast. 
 Like the red text upon the regal wall, 
 Truth flashes warning of that nation's fall, 
 Which in the revel of prosperity 
 Profanes the cup — nor heeds the captives' cry. 
 It cannot be — Britannia must explode 
 That dark deformity from Freedom's code. 
 It shall not be ! with prescient exultation, 
 My joyous harp rings out Emancipation ! 
 
 THE IRISH MOTHER'S LAMENT. 
 
 Lament of the Irish Mother, who hid her dead child in her bosom, 
 to prevent its being thrown into the deep . It was afterwards buried 
 under a cliff, by a sympathizing spectator. 
 
 Erin, my love, my native soil, 
 
 Why fled I from thy emerald earth ! 
 Less poignant far the pangs of toil, 
 
 Less keen the shaft of spectral dearth ; 
 Than this dread famine of the heart, 
 
 Where madding grief in Silence preys 
 On its lost hope —concealed by art, 
 
 From the sea-monster's vulture gaze. 
 213 
 
Poems. 
 
 Cold mists are on my infant's brow, 
 
 Are these the genial summer dews, 
 That fall on buds in primal glow 
 
 To brighten their sweet morning hues ? 
 Through purple penciling of decay, 
 
 Trace we the laughter's rosy light ? 
 Ah yes ! it owes a twilight ray, 
 
 E'en Death could hardly banish quite. 
 
 Come nearer, near, to Nature's shrine 
 
 Tho' vain the offering now poured ; 
 Be still my soul — lest man divine 
 
 Where my treasure of L,ove is stored. 
 Thou'rt no tribute for Ocean-Kings 
 
 No toy for Triton's booty ; 
 Nor crave I sea-nymph's coral rings, 
 
 To crown thy delicate beauty. 
 Where first thou tasted sweet repose, 
 
 Be thy place of eternal rest ; 
 Tearless despair will not disclose, 
 
 Thy tomb on thy Mother's breast. 
 
 With moistened eye and faltering tone, 
 
 Philanthropy its balm applied : 
 "Tho' waves may o'er thy cherub moan, 
 
 "Or tranquil o'er his green turf glide ; 
 "Yet ransomed from the ravening deep, 
 
 "Inviolate his dust shall be 
 ' 'Beneath yon surge-environed steep, 
 
 "As 'twere the sod of sanctity !" 
 
 THE PERI'S CREED. 
 
 A Poet, intent grave Polemics to weave 
 In a fanciful tissue of thought, 
 
 Asked a Peri he met meditating one eve, 
 What news she from fairy-land brought ? 
 
 214 
 
Poems. 
 
 And if the sweet spirit would just condescend 
 
 To inform him what creed she prof est, 
 At what shrine such a beautiful votress might bend, 
 
 To what pow'r adoration addrest ? 
 The fair Orientalist frankly replied, 
 
 My Creed is essentially free, 
 Untainted by jealous, sectarian pride 
 
 Such as prompted your question to me. 
 
 When I to confession of sins am inclined, 
 
 To flowery altars I fly, 
 In yon brilliant tulip a temple I find, 
 
 My rosary dew beads supply. 
 
 No cup of communion more precious or pure, 
 Than the silvery snow-drop is found, 
 
 Sacramental libations to nature I pour 
 Her praises forever resound. 
 
 Vestal Lilies have lured me in homage to bow, 
 Where their own forms immaculate bend, 
 
 But ne'er to the bondage of veil or of vow, 
 Did my transient conformity tend. 
 
 The Sabbath of conscience, the spirits repose, 
 
 Perennial with me, supersedes 
 The culture of that periodical rose, 
 
 That blushes amid daily weed. 
 
 Hallelujahs to God universal I sing, 
 
 In the stars revelation descry, 
 From Earth's tabernacles my incense I fling, 
 
 Farewell ! now to vespers I fly. 
 
 THE MUSES' VINDICATION OF CARDS. 
 
 Believing sportive mental exercise to be the best antidote to spleen, 
 I vented a fit in the following Bagatelle : 
 
 The Muses are addicted, say the Bards, 
 
 Like other Spinsters to Souchong and Cards. 
 
 Whist is their pet game —loo, their second choice 
 
 215 
 
Poems. 
 
 For in the Pam they must of course rejoice. 
 
 They have another — when the trump of Fame 
 
 Tribute from all around may amply claim. 
 
 Here chance and skill exert alternate sway, 
 
 Success alone decides Judicious play. 
 
 Books are their only stakes — list British ladies ! 
 
 And let it ring from Petersburgh to Cadiz. 
 
 Pamphlets are substituted there for Pence 
 
 Folios for sterling - pounds, Reviews for cents, 
 
 Poetic metal is most precious there ! 
 
 To lose a Pope, a Byron or Shakespeare, 
 
 Is partial bankruptcy among Parnassians 
 
 And more than minted thousands, moves their passions 
 
 Melpomene once smiled through all her terrors, 
 
 Because she gained the "Comedy of Errors," 
 
 For which young Thalia wept, till she too won 
 
 The tragic adversary's best "King John." 
 
 Clio, for a whole twelve-month never carolled 
 
 Because she lost her idolized "Childe Harold." 
 
 Her health declined — her care was given o'er 
 
 Till she retrieved herself with Scott and Moore. 
 
 But let me not forget the main design, 
 
 That led me thus to introduce the nine 
 
 Which was to vindicate their chief diversion 
 
 From fanatic invective and aspersion. 
 
 For new celestial excommunication, 
 
 Denounced against each guileless recreation, 
 
 A moral web of filmy texture weaves, 
 
 Which faith, of her prime attribute, bereaves. 
 
 Supplanting cheerfulness by gloom austere 
 
 Making men worship less in Hope than Fear 
 
 The lyre commending piety more plastic, 
 
 Drowned by the din of "drum ecclesiastic." 
 
 Will to annihilation be consigned, 
 
 By superstition frantic grown and blind. 
 
 Like Oedipus sustained with filial care, 
 
 216 
 
POKMS. 
 
 Ity temporal pride — and spiritual fear. 
 
 But what has this harangue to do with Cards ? 
 
 Digression ? thou besetting sin of Bards, 
 
 Twice hast thou borne me far from Knaves and Kings 
 
 Of whom some wag synonymously sings. 
 
 But I a courtier-minstrel, ne'er confound 
 
 The regal rogue with him who walks uncrowned. 
 
 Now 'ere my episodic fit recurs, 
 
 Authentic memory to a fact refers, 
 
 That prejudice perchance may dissipate, 
 
 And tend e'en Zealots to propitiate, 
 
 Proving that Protestants once owed salvation 
 
 To Cards, their present mark of reprobation, 
 
 When Bloody Mary doomed that hapless sect 
 
 In persecution's tempest to be wrecked. 
 
 The task nefarious was delegated, 
 
 To Dr. Cole whose mission was frustrated, 
 
 By shrewd device of a devoted sister ; 
 
 At whose abode, detained awhile at Chester, 
 
 The unwary herald to a friend revealed 
 
 The box that his certificate concealed. 
 
 Of which forgetful he soon left the room, 
 
 Wherein remained the deed of murderous doom. 
 
 With eager haste the hostess* raised the lid, 
 
 The document within her bosom hid, 
 
 Placing instead a curious deposit, 
 
 A pack of Cards brought from a neighboring closet. 
 
 To Dublin went the Dr. and when there, 
 
 Unclasped the chest with self-important air, 
 
 His dark credentials duly to unfold : 
 
 When lo ! hearts, spades and clubs before him rolled. 
 
 On such a scene, not e'en official eyes 
 
 Could look with aught but ludicrous surprise, 
 
 Reiterated laughter rent the air 
 
 While ransomed Protestants bent down in prayer. 
 
 * Mrs. Elizabeth Edmunds who had a Protestant brother residing in Ireland. 
 
 217 
 
Poems- 
 THE NEWSPAPER. 
 
 To a Venetian coin, the first Gazetta 
 For its generic title became debtor . 
 
 Whither excursive Fancy tends thy Flight ? 
 Like Eastern Caliph masking thee at night, 
 By Vezier memory attended still, 
 Thou pertly pryest in each domicil. 
 Woe ! to the Caitiff then who in his cups, 
 Unconscious with sublimity he sups, 
 Shall vow in Bacchanalian truth or fun 
 Thou art not kindred to the glorious sun ! 
 I fear thee not, clandestine ambulator ! 
 Thou most sophistical and specious traitor 
 To Truth and Reason, those imperial twins 
 Whose Empire with thy Martyrdom begins. 
 What is thy drift in brandishing a flag, 
 Whose motto is a metamorphosed rag ! 
 As by those motley streaks of white and jet, 
 I trace that aboriginal Gazette, 
 The British prototype of '65 
 From which all modern journals we derive. 
 At first confined to faction's revelations, 
 Mere politics, or plodding speculations. 
 Now to a semi-cyclopedia risen 
 Which the assembled arts, delight to dizen. 
 Its grand mosaic ground work ever graced 
 With polished gems of miscellaneous taste. 
 Philosophy his portico regains 
 In columns where profoundest science reigns. 
 While in relief a neighboring sphere discloses 
 Clio's with Nature's kind exotic roses. 
 A curious melange of mental food 
 In fragments thus promiscuously strewed ; 
 Rising Aeronauts, and sinking funds, 
 Fearful phenomena of stars or suns. 
 
 218 
 
Poems. 
 
 Men in the stocks, uneasy as old Kent, 
 
 Others appalled by fluctuating rent. 
 
 New ministers to preach, and spirit lamps, 
 
 Foreign intelligence from Courts and Camps 
 
 Don-Pedro— and a fresh supply of leeches 
 
 A ball that blackens, and a wash that bleaches, 
 
 Here, Hymen's herald to the world declares 
 
 When Love triumphant at his shrine appears. 
 
 There, tenderness bereaved, its tribute brings 
 
 And Hope's crushed odours on Death's altar flings. 
 
 Advertisements of various commodities, 
 
 And anecdotes of Irish whims and oddities. 
 
 Bills of mortality, and Board of Health, 
 
 A fine green turtle — and a miser's wealth. 
 
 The prices current — a cheap hasty pudding, 
 
 Detected fallacies — and falcon-hooding, 
 
 Arrivals and departures — births and deaths, 
 
 A dreadful Storm — and artificial wreaths, 
 
 One fugitive forsakes the Cotton pod, 
 
 In terror of the Supervisor's rod. 
 
 Another dreading critic castigation, 
 
 Flies from the fields of rich imagination. 
 
 Thus from discordant interests Genius hurled 
 
 The elements that form this typic world. 
 
 BONAPARTE TO JOSEPHINE FROM ST. HELENA. 
 
 Thou art avenged ! Yes noble Josephine, 
 
 In my heart's empire, never less than Queen : 
 
 Though like the vacillating race I swayed, 
 
 A regal foil my loyalty betrayed. 
 
 Madly impelled at power's shrine to bow 
 
 Reckless of Honor's violated vow. 
 
 Thou wert avenged, and Love's apostate lost, 
 When^'Russia's fatal Rubicon was crost. 
 When Arctic Genii raised their snowy shields 
 
 219 
 
Poems. 
 
 Against the invader of their frigid fields. 
 And giant elements till then adverse, 
 Confederated for Ambition's curse. 
 
 Thou wert avenged, when e'en this rocky throne, 
 The proud Napoleon could not call his own ! 
 And his young Eaglet at the trainer's call, 
 Was lured from Glory's perch, to joyous thrall. 
 That final gall-drop which o'erflowed his bowl, 
 And left its venom in the captive's soul. 
 
 Away base thought that wrongs my peerless bride ! 
 
 Thy idol ne'er has been undeified. 
 
 Not to the purple was thy incense given, 
 
 But to the Spirit of the sceptre-riven. 
 
 The mind's regalia still magnetic proved, 
 
 Though diadems forsook the brow-beloved. 
 
 But for thy Austrian rival was reserved 
 Faith, that with treach'rous tiaras swerved. 
 Who when Imperial rays no longer darted, 
 . Deemed with the halo, deity departed. 
 Farewell to both ! to thee a fond farewell ! 
 Let memory ne'er divorce thy infidel. 
 
 BALLOON ASCENSION, 
 
 October 29, 1834 . 
 
 Messrs. Editors — You will readily imagine that if the late Aero- 
 static apparition excited such a sensation in the bureau of bright 
 Phoebus, it could not but produce a very bewildering effect in the 
 Cabinet of his twin Sister, the Queen of Night, since the organ of 
 inquisitiveness is most conspicuously developed in the female cra- 
 nium. As maidens delight not however in mute wonder, they re- 
 versed Hamlet's injunction and gave it tongue, but no understand- 
 ing . A celebrated fairy stenographer translated the following con- 
 jectural colloquy from the Iyingua-luna : 
 
 Sweet voices were heard in the orb of the moon 
 As the wing of the breeze wafted on the Balloon 
 "in my sandals of silver," said Dian, "I'll travel" 
 
 220 
 
Poems. 
 
 "Thro' mazes of ether this mystery to ravel." 
 
 "Perhaps," said a sprightly satirical vestal, 
 
 "in his Air-Castle thus, some mad poet holds festal. 
 
 And lunatic legends to us dedicated 
 
 May by post from Parnassus be anticipated." 
 
 "Flying Dutchman I've heard of" said Cynthia's pet star, 
 
 As it dashed through the clouds in the wake of her Car. 
 
 The "Phantom Ship" haply has fled the Atlantic, 
 
 To tempt upper tides on affairs necromantic. 
 
 'Tis no Chateau-d'Espagnc, nor a creature of lymph, 
 But Eternity's hour glass," said a bright nymph, 
 "See ye not through this tube how the shining sands fall 
 Through infinite space on that sub-lunar ball ?" 
 One ray-crested belle, said, to her apprehension 
 
 'Twas nought but a Vane of gigantic dimension 
 Of that strange mechanism which mists magnify 
 By masonic clouds reared, to delude faiKry's eye." 
 Another declared a machine so inflated, 
 For removing deposits, was best calculated. 
 A beautiful planet now shouted "Eureka !" 
 And silenced at once every luminous speaker. 
 1 'Tis a state from the Federal Union detached 
 By spirits immortal its flight has been watched. 
 A stray-star from Liberty's bright Constellation, 
 The beacon erratic of nullification. 
 Shining on though political elements lower 
 Too buoyant, for billows of strife to o'erpower." 
 "Forbear, 'tis a pneumatic comet" said Hecate, 
 Once off from its tangent, what power can check it ? 
 A symbol of moral expansion in youth, 
 Thus flexile and fluttering, before revealed Truth, 
 Has riven the trammels that bound it below, 
 And bade it for Heaven, Earth's pleasures forego." 
 What similes else the Balloon might suggest, 
 By elfin eaves-droppers, could only be guessed. 
 For Lucifer now, from the firmament banished, 
 The colossal phenomenon sparkled and vanished. 
 
 221 
 
Poems. 
 ST. PHILIP'S PRAYER AND SOLILOQUY. 
 
 During the Conflagration of his Church, 1835 - 
 A weeping Seraph hovered o'er the fane, 
 As from afar he marked the radiant bane. 
 It's baleful sparkle, round those wine-cups wreathing, 
 O'er which unhallowed lips were lately breathing. 
 Oh ! let the winglets of young Cherubim, 
 Baptized in purity's primeval stream, 
 Shield from yon red omnipotent, the dome, 
 Where pilgrim faith first* found a Sabbath home. 
 He paused, as on, the bright-haired demon rushed, 
 And in its beam the Sanctuary blushed. 
 Its plumes resplendent circled Music's throne, 
 The Spirit breathed for once a syren tone. 
 Melodiously invoking mortal aid 
 To peril thus by sympathy betrayed. 
 On burning sands despairing votaries tread, 
 Bewildered mid the desert of the dead. 
 And hark ! the struggling sentinel of time, 
 Now hoarsely fulminates its final chime. 
 The random breeze wafts its prophetic wail. 
 And baffled fortitude forsakes its mail. 
 The shuddering saint that multitude reproved, 
 Clustering dismayed around the shrine beloved. 
 Doth strenuous zeal too cower, to thy might, 
 Fierce gladiator of material light ? 
 Is there no champion to avert the doom ? 
 Shall change devotion's cradle, to a tomb? 
 Thy stars have paled the flowers of the sky, 
 And e'en the Moon in all her Majesty 
 Too chaste for contact flies her ardent foe, 
 As truth recedes from fancy's fervid glow. 
 Morn broke upon the martyr's orison, 
 The Lucifer of elements had flown, 
 But crimson ruin reared its serpent crest, 
 And grief alone, redemptions power confest. 
 
 *In Carolina. 
 
 222 
 
Poems. 
 
 ON HEARING OF MME. MALIBRAN'S ACCIDENT. 
 
 Nature was seen like some ambitious bride, 
 
 Arrayed in snowy gems by Winter's side. 
 
 For him, her woodland progeny forsaken, 
 
 And buds and leaflets from her bosom shaken, 
 
 In frosty fetters died within her bower — 
 
 Sweet martyr to her surly consort's power. 
 
 But soon his frigid splendors ceased to charm, 
 
 His ruffian ruptures but inspired alarm. 
 
 She sighed to wander through her green domain, 
 
 And list the Nightingale's impassioned strain. 
 
 Coy serenader of the starlit grove, 
 
 Warbling in incense to his blushing love. 
 
 In vain the great magicians of romance 
 
 Raise errant Fancy's legendary lance, 
 
 In spectral combat to her listless view : 
 
 Her pensive soul to purer memories true, 
 
 Spurns Fiction's rainbow, whose mimetic tints 
 
 Distort her traits, and dwarf her elements. 
 Vainly Terpsichore in flexile maze, 
 To artful symphonies her craft displays. 
 The dance and legend on her senses pall, 
 She pants for freedom from her wintry thrall. 
 A single petal from the vernal page, 
 Were worth the treasures of her glittering cage. 
 As thus she mused, sounds reached her ravished ear, 
 Like Philomel's upon his fragrant sphere. 
 Does Heaven, then, my secret wish explore 
 And my melodious exile now restore ? 
 But Art, her grand antagonist, advanced, 
 Proudly on Malibran, her Mentor, glanced. 
 "Behold the bird that hath thy sense beguiled ! 
 Have I thy gift of silver tones defied ? 
 Or by refining culture taught mankind 
 Where Music's sweetest spirit lay enshrined ? 
 Will not such Harmony thy loss atone. 
 
 223 
 
Poems. 
 
 Of feathered melodists in Flora's Zone. 
 Plumed Prima-Donnas must resign the palm, 
 Yon wingless warbler has restored thy calm.' 
 With beaming eyes upon the minstrel bent, 
 Relenting Nature yielded soft assent. 
 Alas ! their transient joy dissolves in tears, 
 For jealousy a viewless dagger fears ; 
 Deep in the springs of Melody it sinks, 
 Perhaps to sever its enchanting links. 
 Oh ! let the Seraph, by thy lay decoyed 
 To leave in spheres celestial a bright void, 
 Descend, and to eternal shame consign 
 This bold arch foe of science so divine. 
 
 THE FLOWER AUCTION. 
 
 The flowers were ranged like Circassian belles, 
 
 In some Orient mart for slaves ; 
 They had mutely wept in their fragrant cells 
 
 Ere quitting their kindred's graves. 
 
 For many a lovely child of Flora 
 
 Had yielded its balmy breath ; 
 When the snow-spirit changed the tears of Aurora, 
 
 To lustreless drops of Death. 
 
 The violets shrunk from the stranger's gaze, 
 
 Mimosa incessantly trembled ; 
 And the Roses blushed as they listened to praise, 
 
 From bidders they most resembled. 
 
 "I have Satan's own beauty" exclaimed Evergreen, 
 
 "The gift of perpetual prime," 
 "Oh ! yes, but no change in your living is seen, 
 
 And variety's charming," cried Tlryme. 
 
 224 
 
J >> 
 
 Poems. 
 
 "They call, me the 'Swan of the Silver Lake, 
 
 Said the Lily in tones more bland ; 
 "When to revel in dew, at dawn I awoke 
 
 And my petalous plumes expand. ' ' 
 
 A lot of Laburnus next these were placed, 
 
 Who, tossing their chrysolite tassels ; 
 Thought their loveliness might a Sultana have graced 
 
 And wept to be treated as vassals. 
 
 The Snowdrop stood there with its verdant speck, 
 
 Like Hope upon Faith's pure brink ; 
 Though feeble, defying the wintry wreck, 
 
 In which loftier associates sink. 
 
 "With trumpets of coral," said rambling Woodbine, 
 
 We summon the bees to sip nectar ; 
 And when round the pastoral lattice we twine, 
 
 Content there beholds her reflector :" 
 
 The Jasmines sprang up at the last peroration 
 And thus from their resting place driven, 
 
 Resembled some beautiful new constellation 
 From Arabia's bright firmament riven. 
 
 The fairy queen seemed to have left her regalia 
 By chance in Noisettes'* gay parterre ; 
 
 Her purple adorned the imperial Dahlia, 
 Her ermine Syringa's still wear. 
 
 There were beauties in Spring's seraglio hid 
 
 Who would not their charms unveil ; 
 For these the amateur florists bid 
 
 At a private and pre-arranged sale. 
 
 The flowers now crowded the auction table 
 
 For all of their passions were stirred 
 And so clamorous was this Botanical Babel 
 
 The Cereus scarce could be heard. 
 
 * Florists. 
 
 225 
 
Poems. 
 
 "She had left her nursery couch" she said 
 
 "in grief for the late dispensation 
 To breathe odorous sighs for the recent dead,f 
 
 And bewail their own separation." 
 
 "Oh ! who shall that fostering parent replace, 
 
 By science long gifted with power ; 
 To guard the ephemeral, delicate race 
 
 And avert the blight from the bower." 
 
 Let us all with one voice supplicate then a boon, 
 From those to whose guidance we turn ; 
 
 That a blossom from each shall be gathered and strewn 
 With gratitude's balm on his Urn." 
 
 Farewell to the soil our infancy cherished ! 
 
 From whispering zephyrs alone 
 Shall we learn if our exiled companions have perished; 
 
 Or bloom in a genial zone." 
 
 One flowret remained on the parting spot, 
 
 Still drooping with sorrow intense ; 
 It was memory's sylph, the Forget-me-not I 
 
 No power could e'er root it thence. 
 
 t Michel, the florist. 
 
 THE CALEDONIAN MUSE TO THE FIFTH MONTH. 
 
 Hail bonniest lassie o' the seasons 
 
 Fu' lang the bard thy coming wooed, 
 I lo' thee best for mony reasons, 
 
 And care nae wha may think me rude. 
 Thou art na like thy sister fickle 
 
 A down whase cheek mid mirth and laughter 
 The tear drops aft are seen to trickle 
 
 The beams and clouds so blend abaft her. 
 
 Nor fervid as the nymph wha lingers 
 
 Closest on thy verdant wake 
 To press the vine wi' glowing fingers 
 
 Or Ceres' golden tassels shake, 
 
 226 
 
POKMS. 
 
 Still mair unlike thy features bland 
 To fierce July they choleric brither 
 
 Wha maddens all the canine band 
 
 And gars them rin, the de'il cares whither. 
 
 Let August and September pass 
 
 That bardie would thy beauties wrang ; 
 Wha either to the lad or lass 
 
 Should parallel thee in his song 
 October to thy matchless mein 
 
 An tranquil temper comes the nearest 
 Yet in my heart unrivalled queen 
 
 Thou reignest even as the fairest. 
 
 Nae wintry month shall link its gloom 
 
 Even in name with thine, Sweet May, 
 Its snaws would a' thy buds entomb 
 
 Thy warblers chase frae like a spray. 
 Tho' March first dons the vernal swood, 
 
 She's aye too fond of frost3 r treasons 
 I care na then wha thinks me rude 
 
 I hail thee, bonniest o' the seasons. 
 
 THE PROFERRED ROSE. 
 
 A Lady delicately refused a Rose presented by a Gentleman after 
 he had, the previous evening, in her presence, distributed several to 
 other friends and not to her. To make amends for such uninten- 
 tional omission, he waited on the Iyady, and handed to her the next 
 season, the earliest and finest of that splendid flower he could pro- 
 cure. On accepting it the following lines were returned by her : 
 
 For golden violets and roses 
 
 The Troubadours contended ; 
 Thus graceful art her mimic posies 
 
 With lyric laurels blended. 
 
 No glittering weed, but Gratitude 
 
 Wakes my capricious lyre ; 
 And bids it change to joyous mood 
 
 Its tones of transient ire. 
 227 
 
POKMS. 
 
 For truant Flora with a blush 
 Leads from her ancient bower, 
 
 A rosy rival, that shall crush 
 Sad memory's thorny flower. 
 
 The peerless blossom sent by thee 
 My verse may ne'er requite ; 
 
 But ah ! the "tear drops in my ee, 
 Now flow from pure delight. 
 
 TIME AND TON. 
 Of Time and Ton, the Muse discourses, 
 And of their several feuds and forces. 
 The aim of each to neutralize 
 Whate'er the other may devise, 
 Nature and art their powers divide, 
 Subsidiary to either side. 
 Scarcely can Fashion elevate 
 Some favorite to imperial State, 
 Than Time capriciously deposes 
 The minion from her throne of roses, 
 La Mode avenges slights like these, 
 By making Music's chords and keys 
 (Too impotent for execution) 
 The instruments of retribution. 
 Beating the venerable martyr, 
 As if he were a Turk or Tartar, 
 While in his prison bars with staves 
 Disgraceful e'en to common knaves. 
 But vengeance never slumbers long 
 With either subject of my song. 
 Saturn, the jest of cynic bleachers, 
 A Ferguson in all his features, 
 His rival's arrogance abates, 
 Her lofty tone humiliates, 
 By whitening all the flaxen threads 
 Cherished upon the fairest heads. 
 
 228 
 
Poems. 
 
 True, on a Brutus she might call, 
 To shield her in the capital, 
 But despots are no friends to whigs, 
 Nor to their hairbrained, rambling rigs. 
 Block-aid is but a false reliance, 
 And ruined tresses bid defiance — 
 To foreign succor, though it claim 
 To link itself with Roman fame. 
 Again — the magic wand of Ton 
 Urges the dancing hours on, 
 With waltzes, pirouettes and — twirls, 
 That would not shame Parisian girls. 
 When Time a stagnant aspect wears, 
 The antlered victim's fate he shares. 
 Game is the cry ! and all the town 
 Engage with packs to hunt him down. 
 But their most violent altercation 
 Arises from Ton's innovation, 
 On tranquil periods of rest, 
 To silence and to sleep addrest. 
 When her rebellious vassals seek 
 On midnight witcheries to break ; 
 And clamorous orgies celebrate, 
 While masked assassins round her wait. 
 Time-murderers, whose bright decoy, 
 First dazzles what it would destroy ; 
 Whose syren-fascinations sweep 
 Thousands within her vortex deep ; 
 Whose plead perfidy we learn 
 Only by Fortune's fitful turn. 
 But bursting from her brilliant toils, 
 The Sage his foe insidious foils ; 
 And to a calendar transforms 
 The cheek and brow his touch deforms ; 
 There with his iron pencil traces, 
 A doom no seraph's tear effaces. 
 
 229 
 
POKMvS. 
 
 The date, duration and decline 
 
 Of empire she must soon resign. 
 
 Each dying Grace awhile reposes, 
 
 In terror, on factitious roses ; 
 
 While every moment seems to waft her 
 
 Far, far away from Love and Laughter. 
 
 Twin-truants from that coral shell, 
 
 Whose murmurs, past delights reveal : 
 
 Yet Time will pityingly-assist 
 
 His oft-perplexed antagonist. 
 
 When all her worshippers invoke 
 
 Some novel costume, cap or cloak, 
 
 Some new amendment of her code, 
 
 Change of material or mode, 
 
 Ransacking wardrobes obsolete, 
 
 The pressing exigence to meet. 
 
 He drags out some ancestral oddity, 
 
 Some long-exploded stiff commodity ; 
 
 Brocade that mocks its modern sisters, 
 
 The glory of by-gone silk twisters, 
 
 That stands alone, on conscious bloom, 
 
 The ne plus ultra of the loom. 
 
 And this finesse can e'er delude 
 
 The vain, the thoughtless multitude. 
 
 Fashion, the obligation feels, 
 
 And casts beneath Time's golden wheels 
 
 Those tributary diamonds. 
 
 That look like little Central suns. 
 
 Or, for the oracle divine, 
 
 Constructs some graceful classic shrine ; 
 
 Against whose fairy sculpturings 
 
 The fugitive will strike his wings, 
 
 Impatient as a bird may be 
 
 Of splendor in captivity ; 
 
 Yet ever to mankind repeating, 
 
 "On to Eternity ye' re fleeting ! 
 
 230 
 
 >J 
 
Poems. 
 THE SNOW DROP. 
 
 When Faith and Hope, in firm alliance, 
 Set adverse fortune at defiance, 
 The snow-drop with its emerald stripe, 
 Was their selected union-type. 
 
 When Jealousy won spotless Love, 
 This emblem Flora's fingers wove ; 
 As if the bells of infant Spring, 
 The knell of confidence should ring. 
 
 Ah, no ! relenting winter brings, 
 This vernal cherub on his wings ; 
 To show that justice may uphold, 
 Blind mercy on his pinions cold. 
 
 And thou art like the desert* bird, 
 When just from nature's slumber stirred ; 
 Alike ye start in eager haste, 
 And wear the livery of her waste. 
 
 ♦The swallows of the desert, whose plumage is said to derive its hue from the 
 sands over which it skims. 
 
 THE DUKE'S SOLACE. 
 
 Shakespeare, in "As you Ivike It," makes the exiled Duke find 
 "Tongues in trees —Books in the running brooks — Sermons in Stones 
 — and good in everything . ' ' 
 
 We need not go to kirk or college 
 
 To learn that when the Tree of Knowledge 
 
 Was rifled by Bog Logic primo, 
 
 Dominie Lucifer sublimo ; 
 
 Imperial master of magicians 
 
 And subtlest of all rhetoricians ; 
 
 Eve found a tongue, that in a trice 
 
 Prattled her out of Paradise, 
 
 And science left her sylvan cell 
 
 231 
 
Poems. 
 
 On mortal lips thenceforth to dwell. 
 
 Has no one ever yet suggested 
 
 That Ischah's* brain might be infected 
 
 By some mysterious Blue-devil, 
 
 Whose whisperings allured to evil ? 
 
 Reader, the imps of Ennui 
 
 Have often tempted you and me 
 
 To even worse than apple-stealing, 
 
 While round the cerebellum reeling, 
 
 Oppressed by their dull noxious vapors, 
 
 Fancy has cut more curious capers, 
 
 And further into mischief slid 
 
 Than Adam's "bonnie wee wife" did. 
 
 But we digress from our drift, 
 
 Which was the motto's truth to sift. 
 
 Brooks are but diamond editions 
 
 Of Ocean's tributary legions, 
 
 In whose grand volume, after ages 
 
 Will find these small, poetic pages. 
 
 Perused by Nature's glorious light 
 
 The beams of day — the stars of night. 
 
 Sparkling reflections they unfold 
 
 In letters of the purest gold. 
 
 "Sermons in stones" — When Shakespeare wrote 
 
 The lines we here presume to quote, 
 
 No Scottish genius had devised 
 
 That streets should be macadamized. 
 
 Now that the preachers are all crushed, 
 
 Must not their homilies be hushed ? 
 
 This part of the dramatic text 
 
 Has much the minstrel's thought perplext. 
 
 The muse of Dr. Young alone 
 
 Could well expatiate on stone. 
 
 And with unrivalled pathos warble 
 
 Nightly, on monumental marble ; 
 
 *Ischah, signifying woman, was Eve's first name. 
 
 232 
 
Poems. 
 
 But my Pegasus bounds away 
 
 When stumbling-stones around him lay ; 
 
 Although I strive by sundry twitches 
 
 To make him leap o'er them like ditches, 
 
 He fears my novice-nerves to shatter 
 
 By their reverberating clatter, 
 
 Or dogerelizing to annul 
 
 By fracturing the rhymer's skull. 
 
 His timid hoofs therefore retire, 
 
 Nor strike that scintillating lyre. 
 
 He's right — for if I fail, the Muses 
 
 Will never medicate my bruises, 
 
 For rattles are a pleasing sound 
 
 When elegiac quarry's found. 
 
 4 'And good in everything.'' Indeed? 
 If once the Bard my verse could read, 
 Poetic equity would tax him 
 To make exceptions to his maxim. 
 
 THE CHIMNEY SWEEPER'S COMPLAINT. 
 
 Fairy biographers relate the rise of Cinderella ; 
 
 But we who soar above the grate, ne'er find a fortune teller. 
 
 We mix in gay and gallant crowds distinguished as we 
 
 stray ; 
 As Sable specks on summer clouds, chased by the light away. 
 
 Vesta preserves a proud location in Grandeur's gilded walls; 
 While we, the foe of conflagration, are tainted in her halls. 
 The very Dogs will oft retreat from sooties in a fluster ; 
 I^est their impure, incautious feet, might mar their brazen 
 lustre. 
 
 Ljke ebon caskets, we contain a pure and pearly wreath ; 
 And Beauty's self, might not disdain our firm and brilliant 
 teeth. 
 
 233 
 
Poems. 
 
 But what avails this wasted treasure, to members of our 
 
 craft ? 
 Who with the gust of childish pleasure, have seldom freely 
 
 laughed. 
 
 On festal days, all others seek delight in sportive flashes, 
 With us, 7 tis ever Ember week, and scattering of ashes. 
 Lamented Montague! no more thy Ma3'-day boon rewards us; 
 No friend unlocks her ample store, or generous gift accords us. 
 
 Yet in the Sweep, Mankind may see by gradual elevation, 
 How finally obscurity may reach the loftiest station. 
 
 BRING DOWERS. 
 
 The following lines are a sort of semi-parody of Mrs. H email's 
 "Bring Flowers." Her manes will, we trust, forgive the outrage : 
 
 Bring Dowers, rich dowers for the bridal gift, 
 
 A heritage gathered by toil or by thrift. 
 
 No matter if features be haggard or pale, 
 
 All are equally charming, beneath a blond veil. 
 
 And the touch of the purse-strings, with magical power, 
 
 Transforms a base weed to a beautiful flower. 
 
 Bring Fortune — and strew in that conqueror's path 
 Domestic thrones shaken by termagant wrath. 
 With the spoils of Felicity let her come back — , 
 Crushed hearts that ensanguine her chariot's track, 
 Let Luxury chant a triumphant lay. 
 And Bacchus his bright purple banner display. 
 
 Bring wealth to the wife, in whose stately saloon 
 Ne'er glimmered the radiance of Love's honey-moon. 
 Her frescoes are rare — and her marbles unique ; 
 But where for that firmness and purity seek, 
 Which blended, impart to the conjugal station 
 A lustre transcending art's fairest creation. 
 
 Bring gold to the altar, whose incense should breathe 
 Of flowers, immaculate Feeling should wreathe, 
 
 234 
 
Poems. 
 
 To Destiny pour out polluted libation, 
 And blessings invoke with a sordid oblation. 
 Away with the Graces — both sportive and pensive, 
 Their bowers are bartered for fields more extensive. 
 
 Away with the Syrens — their musical powers 
 
 Are lost on the Bride-groom, — bring dowers, rich dowers. 
 
 LIGHT AND THOUGHT. 
 
 [Written for the Charleston Courier.] 
 
 Messrs. Kditors — It is my peculiar felicity to be gifted with a sixth 
 sense, that not only concentrates the powers of the other five, but 
 expands its perceptions to sights and sounds invisible and inaudible 
 to common organs. It was this faculty that recently enabled me to 
 comprehend the following dialogue between Iyight and Thought. 
 
 IvIGHT. 
 
 I peeped in your apartments, a little after dawn, 
 
 But supposing that you slumbered, as your curtains were 
 
 undrawn ; 
 I would not then disturb you, but stole noiselessly away, 
 For which you doubtless thank me, dearest Cousin La Pen- 
 see. 
 
 Thought. 
 
 That step must have been light indeed, that failed to waken 
 
 me, 
 But I was dreaming at that time of quarreling with thee ; 
 It was the hacknied topic of superior velocity, 
 To which we both maintained our claims, with firmness and 
 
 ferocity. 
 
 Light. 
 
 I would not condescend of course to combat a mere vision, 
 And waking Thought, would not expose himself to such 
 
 derision. 
 As to compare the speed of Light, with his elaborate pace, 
 'Twould be like Snail and Butterfly, running a garden-race. 
 
 235 
 
Poems. 
 
 Thought. 
 
 Suppose I tell you boasting v Sir, in spite of your demeanor, 
 I'll break a lance with you for this, upon the World's arena. 
 
 Light. 
 
 Mad Thought ! I'd call for scourges then, straight- jackets 
 
 and a cell, 
 And bid the braggart lunatic, to other maniacs tell, 
 What self -deluding fantasies Imagination weaves, 
 When Reason in her truant pranks, the mental empire leaves. 
 * ^ * * * * * 
 
 This outrage to their noble liege, roused the colleagues and 
 vassals, 
 
 That guard the citadel of Thought or tend his airy castles. 
 
 Judgment uplifted his broad shield, Wit raised her battle- 
 axe, 
 
 Whose keen and stunning edge compels stern muscles to 
 relax ; 
 
 While Fancy strung the giant-bow, great Shakespeare loved 
 to wield 
 
 And Memory came with Addison, Spectator of the field. 
 
 Nor were the adverse forces less alert or animated, 
 
 For all at once the firmament appeared depopulated. 
 
 Diana through her silver horn, a loud alarm sounded, 
 
 And down the glittering hosts of stars, towards their sover- 
 eign bounded. 
 
 Platoons of planets might be seen, cohorts of constellations, 
 
 Emitting as they move along, belligerent scintillations. 
 
 Light's radiant standard streamed afar, upon the mountain- 
 top, 
 
 And meteors, ranged in single file, beside the banner drop. 
 
 But these are like Swiss hirelings, and will desert the skies, 
 
 When some terrestrial casualty, revives their kindred ties. 
 
 The carol of some melodist itinerant from Earth, 
 
 Will draw them from exotic ranks, down to their place of 
 
 birth. 
 
 236 
 
Poems. 
 
 But both antagonists declined aid in their present quarrel, 
 Resolving single-handed to obtain the victor's laurel. 
 Breaking the silence, long and deep, that followed this 
 
 commotion 
 Thought (second of his dynasty) thus spoke with some 
 
 emotion. 
 
 Thought. 
 
 Display not brilliant Cousin, so much warmth in trivial 
 
 matters, 
 Nor tear like Hamlet's players, every passion into tatters. 
 Remember, genuine Courage is with coolness e'er conjoined 
 Its counterfeit Temerity in metal base was coined. 
 Put up your flaming sword and in dispassionate rehearsal, 
 Now briefly vindicate your claims to homage universal. 
 
 Light. 
 
 Outstripping morning's dapple-grey's, I cleave elastic air, 
 Annihilating space in my magnificent steam-car. 
 With golden pencil I delight to trace the grand outline, 
 Of lineaments and landscapes that in Nature's models shine, 
 I make the lily-novices in Flora's convent pale, 
 By posing them clandestinely beneath the snowy veil. 
 I steal their dewy rosaries, on which in expiration, 
 They piously commend themselves for solar profanation. 
 Yet spite of these impediments, so great is my celerity, 
 Ten thousand miles a minute are accomplished with dex- 
 terity. 
 Nor fail I e'er to reach my goal upon the border land, 
 Whereon opposing Eve and Day in twilight silence stand, 
 Before impatient Night compels by star-expatriation, 
 (A sort of Astracism known to each supernal nation) 
 The swift surrender of my theme, my sceptre and my robe, 
 Light's glorious insignia of dominion o'er the globe. 
 
 The orator concluded here his luminous harangue, 
 While Thought on lyric wires pearls of replication Strang. 
 
 237 
 
Poems. 
 
 Thought. 
 
 Who ever tracked my progress from the "Heaven of Inven- 
 tion," 
 
 Or dared to mete by statute its unlimited extension ? 
 
 I freely range the elements of bold Imagination 
 
 Or dart along the rapids of rhetoric declamation. 
 
 More fleetly than the Zephyrs aid incendiary malice, 
 
 I kindle Cupid's firebrand within the vital palace ; 
 
 And what elective influence like that of meditation, 
 
 Brightens the future glories that elate anticipation. 
 
 'Twixt Radiance and Reflections speed, a mootpoint e'er 
 must be, 
 
 Since conjecture cannot follow my excursions far and free. 
 
 L,ight to his orient source returned its minarets to gild, 
 Where prostrate fire- worshippers his glowing temples filled; 
 But Thought departing, recognized one of the rhyming tribe, 
 And struck my brain, commanding me, their contest to 
 transcribe. 
 
 REFLECTIONS ON THE DEATH OF AN INFANT. 
 
 "It is a fearful thing to love what Death may touch.'' 
 
 Our hearts are agitated by conflicting emotions at the 
 recital of Tell's trial, when commanded by an imperious 
 Governor to cleave the fruit upon the filial stem. But the 
 patriotic motive and successful result of his daring, convert 
 the thrilling pathos of that incident into a subject of rap- 
 turous delight. Not so however, when the arrows of 
 despotic Fate are levelled against some cherub-model of 
 innocence and beauty. One strong, one absorbing feeling 
 of ungratified sorrow, wrings the rebellious bosom. This 
 reflection occurred to me, while bending over the death- 
 couch of a lovely infant. I had lately looked upon it as 
 relic-rose-bud of Eden, destined to brighten the pathway 
 of its parents. Its purity seemed capable of baffling all 
 evil influences, and of charming even the spoiler from 
 
 238 
 
POKMS. 
 
 preying upon its perfumed breath. There was a serene 
 lustre in its beautiful eyes that resembled the brilliant and 
 chaste oratory of truth. Was this the babe mingling its 
 feverish pantings with the fearful heavings of a mother's 
 heart ? Now lying in icy immobility upon a father's bosom, 
 stilled by the very torpor of despair? It was indeed a kiss; 
 that banquet of affection was henceforth to become an in- 
 terdicted luxury. The last one had been given and Hope 
 lay wrecked upon the rigid lip, like some light buoyant 
 bark upon a coral strand. In vain would officious kindness 
 remove every familiar object from the presence of the 
 mourners. Memory had chiselled the image of the one, 
 and niched it in the recess of their soul. The feeblest in 
 her tearless agony, calls for some token that may free the 
 stagnant tide of feeling. A lock of hair is brought; she 
 wildly asks, from whose fair head this sweet memorial had 
 been severed and shrinks from the reply. Can even man- 
 hood bare his breast to such a stroke ? Alas ! in nature's 
 warfare, there is no corslet against which the shaft of des- 
 tiny may glance unscathingly. The firmest falters at the 
 funeral rite, where custom bids him cast a clod on one so 
 often clasped in love ! He cannot see the shadows of the 
 tomb deepen to indistinctness, around a being so beloved ; 
 he cannot leave the slumberer in her loneliness, though 
 piety may pledge herself to bear that angel from the desert; 
 without a burst of passionate and rebellious grief that de- 
 monstrates the ascendancy of feeling over his strong spirit. 
 And when the father turns toward his childless home, does 
 not his slow and heavy step denote how much the bondage 
 of affection has enfeebled his power of sustaining the drag 
 chain of existence? Believe it not, bereaved one. Accept 
 the staff -religion offers to life's pilgrims, and regard not 
 the suggestions of impatient sorrow. We are pierced with 
 thorns to awaken us from temporal dreams, that we may 
 give audience to Faith in the tabernacle of a purified spirit. 
 Let us bow and bless the chastener. 
 
 239 
 
Poems. 
 
 GREAT FAILURE IN CENTRAL GREECE. 
 
 We must stop payment! said the firm of Clio, Euterpe & Co. 
 
 Of bankruptcy I saw the germ said Polyhymia long ago. 
 
 And well you might, replied Urania, for who but prodigals 
 in verse, 
 
 Or those possessed with lyro-mania, would rhyme so lav- 
 ishly disburse ? 
 
 Consult the stars then, and declare how all the Capital in- 
 vested, 
 In the Parnassian funds will fare ! and if those notes will 
 
 be protected 
 So lately offered at the Bank, wherein Apollo is presiding. 
 Bright muse ! this service suits your rank far better than 
 
 censorious chiding. 
 All wear a most portentious scowl, said the celestial specu- 
 lator ; 
 And Ursa Major's furious growl would fright a polar navi- 
 gator. 
 Then close your splendid volume love, and let us try to 
 
 cancel debts 
 By gifts received from father Jove ; they're immortality's 
 
 assets. 
 Clio advanced with lute and quill, Urania's azure robe of 
 
 light 
 Was cast beside the trumpet shrill; Calliope was forced to 
 
 flight. 
 With blazing flambeau came Erato, roses and myrtles round 
 
 her brow 
 Were twined by each enamorata; but all must be surrendered 
 
 now. 
 With muffled tabor came the Grace that sets all Pindus in 
 
 commotion ; 
 The first tears on Terpsichore's face fell as she played the 
 
 dirge of motion. 
 The gentle Euterpe approached her simple assignal to yield; 
 A crown that ne'er on mines encroached, composed of gems 
 
 from Flora's field. 
 Fair Polyhymia next resigned gifts that all tender hearts 
 
 engage ; 
 
 240 
 
Poems. 
 
 But these to mortals were assigned and melodized Italia' s 
 stage. 
 
 Melpomene, her buskin dropt beside the comic sock of 
 Thalia ; 
 
 And thus the muses payment stopt while memory chroni- 
 icled her failure. 
 
 The Prices Current now review of Staples intellectual ; 
 
 And learn your wonder to subdue if sales are ineffectual. 
 
 For Fancy Goods there's no demand, Novels are scarcely 
 brisk ; 
 
 Romances now are contraband, nor worth the smuggling 
 risk. 
 
 Poetic spirits flourish not, whatever be their proof ; 
 
 Though Roscoe (be it ne'er forgot) distilled them 'neath 
 
 his roof. 
 Indigo blue as Learning's hue, can never hope to rise. 
 
 Its brilliant tint can ne'er imbue souls stained with sordid 
 dyes. 
 
 Dramatic talent has declined since Billy Shakespeare's age, 
 
 Whose Ariel- wand could loose or bind, the conjured Tem- 
 pest's rage. 
 
 Impromptu wares like wit, rely for fair appreciation ; 
 
 L,ess on profusion of supply than just appropriation. 
 
 Of attic Salt refined and rare we find but few quotations ; 
 
 Thus mental merchandise must share in general defalcation. 
 
 NOTE FROM A BANKRUPT MINSTREL. 
 
 Burns sought for Fame the Banks of Doon, 
 
 Of Ettrick, Creel and Yarrow ; 
 And Charlie Fox for Fortune's boon, 
 
 Strayed to the Banks of Faro. 
 
 But men in our temperate days, 
 
 Sage and profound reflectors, 
 Consider Banks a risky maze 
 
 When muses turn directors. 
 
 241 
 
Poems. 
 
 They say that in Life's chequered scene 
 
 They serve to fill up blanks ; 
 But should not oyster-like be seen 
 
 Gaping fore'er on Banks. 
 
 No ! though the loveliest pearl lies hid 
 
 Within its silver shell ; 
 Must they unclose the glittering lid 
 
 To free it from its cell ? 
 
 My lip with indignation curled, 
 
 When I the mandate heard ; 
 For Bank-quakes that convulsed the world 
 
 Castalia's stream had stirred. 
 
 And shall the mound of prejudice 
 
 Stem the poetic tide? 
 And classic eddies thus compress 
 
 To fortify man's pride. 
 
 Rather let verse like Nilus rise 
 
 Its tribute to bestow ; 
 And sterile banks to fertilize 
 
 With periodic flow. 
 
 I vow to paper agents 
 
 I mean no detriment, 
 By ranking them in pageants, 
 
 With Fallstaff's regiment. 
 
 For credit finds in such recruits 
 Support as staunch and loyal 
 As if they wore untarnished suits, 
 Adorned with trappings royal. 
 
 But mobs are like Macbeth the Thane, 
 
 From Sable Cape to Blanco ; 
 And selfish interests to maintain, 
 
 Would sacrifice a Bank O ! 
 
 242 
 
POKMS. 
 
 No Caledonian crown indeed 
 
 Arouses their cupidity ; 
 For Carolina's coin they plead 
 
 Secure of its validity. 
 
 But revolutionary forms 
 
 Mummies in memory's balm ; 
 
 Arise amid commercial storms 
 Their violence to calm. 
 
 Around the vaults with grief profound 
 
 Each apparition lingers ; 
 Pointing to currency's deep mound 
 
 With cautionary fingers. 
 
 The times these spectres now evoke 
 
 To aid Bank conversation. 
 Evade at once the threatened stroke 
 
 Of dread depreciation. 
 
 L'AIME INCONNUE- 
 
 Qui peut recondre le mystere 
 D'une clef qui ouvre quatre coeure ? 
 
 "A second gift from the mysterious stranger !" said my 
 brother, presenting a sentimental-looking blue billet, fas- 
 tened on the outside by a golden key passing through 
 quadruple hearts, and containing within a gilt-paper wreath, 
 too exquisitely minute and beautiful for any brow but that 
 of the Fairyqueen at her coronation. What could this 
 mean ? I called upon the witch of the heath, and the war- 
 lock of the glen — upon the Sage of the Mountain cavern, 
 and the Lybi of the sea-girt cave — upon Ariel and Puck — 
 the lamp and ring genii of Aladdin, and upon all the black 
 and yellow dwarfs that ever figured on legendary, or 
 romantic lore in aid of denouement. In vain ! None came 
 to relieve my perplexity— for alas ! though my lip pro- 
 nounced the invocation, my hand wielded not the magic 
 wand that moves the wires of supernatural puppets and 
 constrains them to mechanical ministry. I remained upon 
 
 243 
 
Poems. 
 
 the qui vive of conjecture, and challenged memory to de- 
 liver up all the keys in her custod}', and to throw open all 
 the turnpike gates that lead to the avenues of the brain. 
 She ventured to remonstrate, and reminded me of the mar- 
 tyrdom of Blue-beard's wives, incurred by fatal curiosity. 
 "The keys !" vociferated I, in a tone imperative as that of 
 the jealous Moor, when demanding the strawberry kerchief 
 of Desdemona. A small bunch was speedily surrendered. 
 The first I took up was the golden key, which court-etiquette 
 obliges the grand Chamberlain of England to carry. "What 
 analogy ?' ' inquired I. "Flattery is at your elbow; ' ' replied 
 the mental portress, ready to answer your interrogations. 
 "it is poetry" said the parasite, "whose glittering key 
 affords free access to the chambers of the heart." I smiled 
 complacently, but soon perceived that the honey-drop of 
 adulation had attracted a satiric fly, for a monitory buzz in 
 my ear warned me to beware of being beguiled into the con- 
 ceit of being a Lock-hart. "Fico por los malignatores," 
 retorted I, disdainfully. "Have you any eclaircissement 
 to substitute?" Cupid in league with Plutus, opens the 
 vital portals with a golden key. But the wreath— the 
 wreath ! It is in mimicry of that, said flattery, with which 
 renown designs to circle your brow. Satire has already 
 prepared her neutralizing verjuice, for after sneeringly sur- 
 veying my tiny crown, she flew away, laconically exclaim- 
 ing—' 'dimensions equal to pretensions. ' ' Rational surmise 
 now suggested that some generous enthusiast in requital of 
 my muses' efforts, had thus delicately offered tribute upon 
 the humble shrine. A nightingale's note would best con- 
 sort with such incense ; in its absence, gratitude can only 
 offer the magpie garrulity of m. p. 
 
 LINES ON A BROKEN TEA CUP. 
 
 Suggested by seeing a I v ady intent on uttering a censorious comment 
 break a beautiful China Cup, by suddenly dipping it in scalding water. 
 
 Mingle it not with meaner clay, 
 
 'Twas precious porcelain yesterday ; 
 
 By Beauty's coral lip carest, 
 
 By taper fingers gently prest. 244 
 
Poems- 
 
 Acclimatized to torrid beams, 
 I dreamt not calorific streams, 
 Its tempered pores would e'er relax 
 Or fragile texture overtax. 
 The Oriental Flora mourns 
 Disconsolate mid reeking urns ; 
 The chalice to whose golden brim, 
 ''Souchong and scandal" loved to swim. 
 Arise fair Teazle, Sneerwell, Candor, 
 Weep the communion-cup of Slander ! 
 Whose beverage lent a zest poignant 
 To Fashion's clique, and Folly's cant. 
 In female parliaments with reason 
 We may expect Gunpowder treason. 
 But more successful than Guy Fawkes, 
 The traitor here in triumph stalks. 
 
 And covert Envoy's kindled train 
 On merit leaves the blackest stain. 
 While reputation's ruins lie 
 A theme for sharp contumely. 
 
 But where is sympathy the while 
 That should the saucer's grief beguile? 
 The lonely widower retreats 
 From gossip— gatherings and fetes. 
 Forlorn amid his glittering peers, 
 His dusty, dreary aspect bears, 
 Sad evidence of cold neglect 
 From her whose service he had decked. 
 No longer burnished by the hand 
 That severed the connubial band. 
 
 So fares it with the finest clay 
 That human cabinets display. 
 Dissolve but once the social bond, 
 Or break Utility's strong wand, 
 The solitary unit, man, 
 245 
 
Poems. 
 
 Incurs, fore'er the civil ban. 
 Of former deeds 'twere vain to plead 
 In desolation's hour of need, 
 Oblivion veils the by-gone glory 
 And Dust reveals his tragic story. 
 
 CUPID AND BACCHUS. 
 On the fanciful origin of the introduction of Olives and Wines. 
 
 Two infant- gods once flew to earth 
 
 To play their several parts ; 
 One reigning o'er convivial mirth, 
 
 The other over Hearts. 
 
 'Twixt these, as Fate full oft disposes. 
 
 Ill-will and Strife abounded ; 
 Love pelted Bacchus with his roses, 
 
 In turn with Grape-shot wounded. 
 
 Mounted upon his globe of stars, 
 Wine freely ranged the world ; 
 
 But meeting with the Son of Mars, 
 His lips sarcastic curled. 
 
 "Good morrow Cupid — what's the news, 
 
 Among the Paphian folks ? 
 How many wrinkles do they lose, 
 
 By listening to your jokes ? 
 
 They say my panthers (silly things) ! 
 
 Have pawed your pretty Doves ; 
 You ought to clip their little wings, 
 
 Or keep them in your groves. 
 
 I cannot help it if they fly 
 
 Away from thee and Care ; 
 And refuge take in revelry, 
 
 'Gainst tyrants so severe." 
 246 
 
Poems. 
 
 ' "Move on" said Bros, "let me pass, 
 
 Or by eternal Styx, 
 I swear to break the magic Glass 
 
 That aids thy juggling tricks. 
 
 Move on ! or rather list awhile, 
 To my last note's contents. 
 
 The graces of my native Isle, 
 Whom you so oft incense, 
 
 Remonstrances have sent to Jove, 
 Against your usurpation ; 
 
 Declaring you a foe to Love, 
 No less than to flirtation." 
 
 When they to Dinner-parties hie, 
 In conscious charms elate ; 
 
 The Bottle-imp is ever nigh 
 Their conquests to frustrate. 
 
 Soon as their Beauty, sense, or wit 
 Man's soul begins to thaw, 
 
 Up starts the Bowl, and Etiquette, 
 Compels them to withdraw. 
 
 The net of Hope thus rudely broken, 
 
 I seldom spun again ; 
 For Prudence oft retracts the token, 
 
 Tendered in pleasure's reign. 
 
 The Fair, this grievance to redress, 
 
 Petition the immortals, 
 Thy boundless power to repress, 
 
 And close thy crystal portals. 
 
 Look to thy own, lost sceptic, Love ! 
 
 And check this wrathful tide ; 
 Thy taunt a spirit cannot move 
 
 So purely rectified. 
 
 247 
 
Poems. 
 
 I,ook to thy own frail diadem, 
 
 So arrogantly worn ; 
 Nor think by witt}^ stratagem, 
 
 To hide its secret thorn." 
 
 "Now pray thee Bacchus, cool thine ire, 
 
 The oriental way ; 
 A little snow upon thy fire 
 
 Its ferment would allay." 
 
 To what this rupture might have led 
 
 I'm not prepared to say ; 
 For Wisdom from Olympus sped, 
 
 To quell the childish fray. 
 
 Pallas, the petty wranglers drew 
 
 Towards a festive scene, 
 Where sparkled Champagne's diamond-dew, 
 
 With vine-gems more serene. 
 
 Her own pet-olive then she cast 
 
 On the luxurious board ; 
 Both sprang at once to the repast, 
 
 And concord was restored. 
 
 "A POETIC HOMILY ON THE LATE CALAMITY.''* 
 
 "While I mused the fire burned — then spake I with my tongue*'- — 
 Psalm 3903. 
 
 What art those spirits of the brilliant wing, 
 
 Whose radiance pales the night-queen's lustrous ring ! 
 
 Not now the comet's "calculated blaze" 
 
 Reveals to darkness its portentous rays. 
 
 No nieteor-missionary downward flies 
 
 To preach connection 'twixt the earth and skies, 
 
 What then in such terrific splendor streams, 
 
 Awakening man from mercenary dreams ? 
 
 Approach ye Western Magi and translate 
 
 Yon fiery transcript of impending fate, 
 
 * Great fire of 1838 which destroyed Charleston. 
 
 248 
 
Poems. 
 
 Expound the blazonry of banquet halls 
 To haughty revellers within their walls — 
 Sage Daniels ! find ye here no parallel, 
 No moral compeers of imperial Bel ? 
 No hearts oblivious of Omnipotence 
 Until His rod appals the pampered sense ? 
 Denounce their deities of wood and stone, 
 False gods in towering fabrics may be known. 
 Tell them that when by venal impulse stirred 
 Gold is from charity to pomp transferred, 
 That precious vessel is not less profaned 
 Than temple cups at tyrant orgies drained. 
 Let opulence divert the golden tide 
 That flows around its palaces of pride ; 
 In free, unselfish channels let it run 
 And oriental victors are outdone. 
 But hark ! a wail from yonder Fame ascends, 
 And Israel's Nestor o'er the ruin bends. 
 In youth his hallelujahs here resounded, 
 His age's hope these sacred precincts bounded, 
 As falls the altar where in faith he bowed 
 The patriarch lifts his voice and weeps aloud. 
 Three-score-and-ten already are o'er past 
 On this burnt offering be my gray hairs cast. 
 No other shroud or sepulchre I crave ; 
 Glory of life, be thou my hallowed grave. 
 
 WRITTEN AFTER A WALK OVER THE RUINS OF 
 
 THE LATE FIRE. 
 
 Let antiquarian sympathy expend itself on scenes, 
 
 Where the desert-bride Palmyra towered once o'er eastern 
 
 queens, 
 Let tradition's shrivelled finger touch the granite's fallen 
 
 glory, 
 While ambition's spendid toys form the staple of his story, 
 
 249 
 
Poems. 
 
 Moisten regions, where the rhapsodists Homeric numbers 
 
 sung, 
 With the tears of modern tourists, from enthusiasm wrung. 
 Tune your lyres, classic pilgrims, and with mournful into- 
 nation 
 Sing the monumental victims of barbaric mutilation. 
 'Mid the ruins of her Capital, a Carolina muse 
 Would tributary sorrow from her loyal harp effuse ; 
 No prostrate colonnade is thine, no tablature or arch, 
 By which research might regulate man's intellectual march. 
 But though no chiselled wonder e'er commingled with thy 
 
 dust, 
 And virtuoso might regard thy relics with disgust ; 
 To my spirit they appeal, by a spell that ne'er was broken, 
 The local love that consecrates our home's minutest token. 
 Woe for the household wreck ! comprising fruits of patient 
 
 toil, 
 Its gifts and gleanings suddenly transformed to glowing 
 
 spoil ; 
 Beshew the Herod-elernent ! that turned from lofty towers, 
 To perpetrate the martyrdom of lovely infant flowers. 
 Forsaken by light zephyrs, and resigned to rougher gales, 
 Without a drop of balmy dew, each little life exhales ; 
 A single stride the giant made from garden unto waste, 
 As if its course the flaming sword of Paradise had traced. 
 They tell me Freedom's bird was seen to sway above the fire, 
 Welcome the glorious augury ! new fabrics shall aspire, 
 Where Liberty shall rally back prosperity and peace, 
 Bach Phoenix dome and temple, thus confederate to bless. 
 
 TO A FRIEND IN REPLY TO KIND INVITATION. 
 
 I have smiles for the living, the tender, the gay, 
 Who fain from my brow would the cloud chase away, 
 'Tis the innocent wile of a sensitive heart 
 To feign the sweet solace they wish to impart. 
 But counterfeit smiles have as sickly a gleam 
 
 250 
 
Poems. 
 
 As banquet lamps waning before morning's beam. 
 
 I would not to life's gentle novice expose 
 
 The wounds that have broken my spirit's repose. 
 
 I would not to youth's ardent vision betray, 
 
 How slight is the thread that has bound its bouquet, 
 
 How soon chance may sever the beautiful cluster 
 
 And to dust bring the blossoms despoiled of their luster, 
 
 I have tears for the dead ! and in solitude mourn 
 
 O'er the ashes that lie within memory's urn, 
 
 My soul like a miniature Auburn discloses 
 
 Remains o'er which fancy has scattered some roses. 
 
 Hope's skeleton rattles within its recesses, 
 
 And buried ambition a moral addresses, 
 
 Felicity, lost in its earliest bloom, 
 
 A spectral monition sends up from the tomb, 
 
 Fair promises crushed as they lifted the wing, 
 
 And ventured of glorious emprize to sing, 
 
 These wrapt in the cerements of temporal pride 
 
 The budding of fate now in coldness abide. 
 
 Then heed me not Lady — but turn to the world, 
 
 Which to thee has a banner of beauty unfurled, 
 
 Full many a pleiad has dropt from my Heaven, 
 
 Far brighter to me than the firmament's seven. 
 
 The weeping recluse to her sorrows then leave, 
 
 No mortal can forfeited pleasures retrieve, 
 
 Yet blessings on her whose Samaritan cruise 
 
 Its unction would pour on the pilgrim's heart bruise. 
 
 'THE VOLUNTARY PRISONER." 
 
 1838. 
 
 Lock, doubly lock my dreary cell, 
 Gladly I bid the world farewell ! 
 The world ? 'tis but another name 
 For dungeon of gigantic frame. 
 Custom within her narrow walls 
 The struggling spirit there enthralls, 
 
 251 
 
Poems . 
 
 And cold, conventional opinion 
 O'er man exerts supreme dominion. 
 What boots it then if straw or roses 
 Bestrew the couch where he reposes ? 
 The key is turned upon the heart, 
 No impulse free may thence depart. 
 Who would not rather wear the chain. 
 That but inflicts corporeal pain 
 Than rivet on the writhing soul 
 Bonds that imply a base control ? 
 
 Vainly through Fashion's gilded grate 
 
 Celestial light would penetrate. 
 
 A straggling beam of revelation 
 
 Emits a feeble radiation ; 
 
 A truant, transitory beam, 
 
 Too faint to break the captive's dream. 
 
 If Gratitude's insolvent-debtors, 
 Were doomed to prison -fare and fetters 
 How many epicurean martyrs 
 Would diet upon broth like Sparta s ? 
 And bracelets of that metal wear 
 Lycurgus passed for specie there. 
 Creatures of every caste and gender 
 Would to a truncheon-tap surrender. 
 E'en Judge and Janitor would quail 
 Themselves in need of bankrupt bail. 
 
 Yon heavy portal let me close 
 And rid me thus of wordly woes. 
 The vapid visitor who sits 
 Impassive amid yawning flits, 
 The restless hunter of "on dits" 
 (Whose blast is heard in every breeze) 
 Leaping in gossip chase, the hedge — 
 That borders friendly privilege. 
 More odious still the scandal-queen 
 
 252 
 
Poems. 
 
 Who Cleopatra-like is seen, 
 
 Delighting human pearls to drop 
 
 In spleen's acidulated cup. 
 
 Venom and froth, vain things and venal 
 
 Are ye not worse than statutes penal ? 
 
 Then draw the bolt, and turn the key, 
 Freedom for thought ! if not for me. 
 Rather the social sphere forego, 
 Than wear deception's domino. 
 
 Now trim Imagination's lamp, 
 These limits are no longer damp, 
 My faculties are disenthralled, 
 In gold and granite I am walled. 
 My pallet is a bed of state, 
 Round which obsequious vassals wait 
 My seat expands into a throne, 
 My voice assumes imperial tone, 
 Victoria's wardrobe is a failure 
 When paralleled with my regalia, 
 The coronation-oath is taken, 
 Yet the delusion is not shaken. 
 A King, "aye every inch a King" 
 Am I when fancy spreads her wing. 
 
 THE PULASKI. 
 
 Forth from the soil where Freedom contended 
 
 The hero whose title the proud Steamer bore, 
 Went the fearless Pulaski, with promise as splendid, 
 
 As that which allured the brave Pole to her shore. 
 Forth went the gallant, the gentle, the gay 
 
 Defiance to hurl at tyrannical care, 
 Heedless how like to the diamond spray, 
 
 Are the bubbles that brighten in pleasure's career. 
 Woe to the deck ! where the withered and blooming 
 
 But lately in Hope's buoyant fellowship stood ; 
 
 253 
 
POKMS- 
 
 Dream they of maritime Molochs consuming 
 
 Treasures unharmed by the turbulent flood ? 
 Hark ! the red demon in triumph has thundered, 
 
 Answering Destiny's dread invocation ; 
 Hearts that no peace but Death could have sundered 
 
 Lie on his alter, a reeking oblation ! 
 Curtain the victims ! each couch is a bier 
 
 That Horror in shuddering silence reveals ; 
 Muffle the chords of the harp stricken there, 
 
 To Heaven alone dedicate its appeals. 
 Turn to that spectacle truly sublime 
 
 When Famine with ravenous beak has assailed 
 Life's polar extremes, and its vigorous prime, 
 
 Which before the fell monster so frantic'lly quailed. 
 Turn then to the spirit sustaining L,a Mar 
 
 That light of the water-waste ! star of the wreck ; 
 Or list to Humanity's noble hussar, 
 
 And the brow of a Heath, with the civic crown deck. 
 Oh ! is there in Nature aught half so enchanting, 
 As feminine fortitude blandly exerted ? 
 
 Or heroic philanthropy boldly replanting 
 The standard of feeling, in madness deserted ? 
 
 Boy ! to the breast of thy father now clinging 
 Closely by him in his agony prest 
 
 Mercy e'en now on her mission is winging 
 Soon at their homes shall the wanderers rest. 
 
 Wife ! who the waters of bitterness quaffed 
 To find on the heart of her husband a tomb 
 
 Slave, whose fidelity chartered a raft 
 
 A master to save from his own threatened doom. 
 
 Yours be the wreath immortality weaves, 
 
 Where myrtles and amaranths mingle their leaves. 
 
 THE MORAL BRIDGE OF SIGHS. 
 My soul is like the famous Bridge of Sighs, 
 I wish I had a travelled Muse like Byron's ; 
 
 254 
 
Poems. 
 
 Palace and prison then in verse should rise 
 To illustrate its singular environs. 
 
 Would like that viaduct it were of stone ! 
 
 A marble fixture on a mortal base ; 
 Rising above affection's watery zone 
 
 An arch of triumph over Time and space. 
 
 My soul, I said, was like the Bridge of Sighs, 
 
 Restraint or victory on either side ; 
 Fancy, a gondolier beside it plies 
 
 A flashing oar upon her fairy tide : 
 
 And sings the while a few remembered cantos 
 But not in truth of Tasso's inspiration ; 
 
 They are no more than plaintive heart mementoes 
 Of incidents beyond all revocation, 
 
 Gaze on my spirits first colossal tower, 
 
 Its architect was Folly in disguise ; 
 'Twas meant to hold distinctions dazzling dower 
 
 Its cobwebs now catch but deluded flies. 
 
 Obscure its chronicles in various inks 
 Ruby and sapphire, liquid gold and jet ; 
 
 Detached, they are but chronologic links 
 United, a historic carkanet. 
 
 Each of these tints a mystery unravels. 
 
 The red, is but a truant blush reflected, 
 In chrysolite some jealous feeling cavils, 
 
 And secret joy in azure is detected. 
 
 The darkest hue despondency betrays 
 
 When haply some pet rattle has been broken ; 
 
 Young Love no longer carols roundelays 
 Or freshens carefully his flower token. 
 
 How many dynasties of hopes and fears, 
 Have been by turns exalted and deposed ; 
 
 How often peace a sullied ermine wears, 
 To weeping consciousness alone disclosed. 
 
 255 
 
Poems. 
 
 And this is pride's imperial habitation, 
 
 As mere a mockery as ducal halls ; 
 Pass we by scarcely sensible gradation 
 
 To where stand vis-a-vis its prison walls. 
 
 What e'er the name, gaol, dungeon or Bastille, 
 Pozzi, or pale emotions deeper wells, 
 
 If doge, or destiny, the warrant seals, 
 
 Remanding thought, or traitors, to their cells, 
 
 'Tis anguish still, to see the noblest, best, 
 Thus from all human sympathy debarred ; 
 
 Until existence, losing all its zest, 
 
 The paltry boon of breathing would discard. 
 
 LEFEBVRE AND BONAPARTE, 
 
 "At Pere Lachaise, near toMassena's Tomb, stands that of Marshal 
 Ivefebvre. This monument was raised by the deceased warrior's wife, 
 who for that purpose sold her diamonds ' ' 
 
 What marble here arrests the stranger's glance, 
 
 O'er which twin victories their plumes advance, 
 
 As if the heralds of his martial course, 
 
 Forbade e'en death their spirits to divorce ? 
 
 Surmounted by a list of glorious fields 
 
 Eefebvre's name the pediment reveals. 
 
 Hero of Dantzic ! valour's cherished son, 
 
 Was this fair trophy from thy country won ? 
 
 Did Alten, Kirchen, Montmirail or Jena, 
 
 Proudly enshrine thee near the brave Massena ? 
 
 A glittering cross in Honour's courtly region, 
 
 Announced thee living of her gallant legion. 
 
 Long might thy scarred remains have mouldered here. 
 
 Unsanctified by Gratitude's warm tear. 
 
 No ! on a conquest of sublimer cast 
 
 Was this thy mortuary palace based. 
 
 A woman's faithful heart, by thee subdued, 
 
 Thy dust with diamonds thus nobly strewed. 
 
 256 
 
Poems . 
 
 Content reflected brilliancy to bear, 
 
 She scorned the coronet of pride to wear. 
 
 Her gems transmuted to one Precious Stone 
 
 By which her husband's history is known. 
 
 At Pere Lachaise we trace his bold career 
 
 In glorious sequence — Soldier, Marshal, Peer ! 
 
 Thrice hallowed be that monumental shrine, 
 
 Constructed by a love so like divine. 
 
 But where alas J rests the Imperial dead ? 
 
 Leader of myriads, with the loftiest wed. 
 
 A lorn and rocky sepulchre is his, 
 
 By Nature carved with rudest effigies. 
 
 Earth, ocean, sky, as if to mark his sway, 
 
 Like a tri-colored banner round him lay. 
 
 No ''troops of friends" the exiled chieftain finds, 
 
 A bosom frost the callous phalanx binds. 
 
 No Saxon bride St. Helena adjured 
 
 To guard the captive's ashes there immured. 
 
 No pilgrim fond, the surgy peril stemmed, 
 
 By perfect faith alone endiademed. 
 
 Rifling her casket to erect a tomb 
 
 In bold relief against the landscape's gloom ; 
 
 Whose spire towards Heaven elevated, 
 
 Might seem to say, the martyr there translated, 
 
 Not vainly pleads before the King of Kings 
 
 For refuge under mercy's mighty wings. 
 
 Fearless of further banishment or thrall 
 
 His cup divested of its earthly gall, 
 
 With buoyant spirit conscious of release, 
 
 Ranges in freedom through the realms of peace 
 
 But no such beacon greets the travellers' eye, 
 
 Who on that rock bestows a passing sigh. 
 
 Thrice desolate that grave of the renowned 
 
 By royal apathy thus left uncrowned. 
 
 THE LOST TREASURE. 
 I was a young enthusiastic girl, 
 
 Nor yet had broken the rose-coloured spell ; 
 
 257 
 
Poems. 
 
 The waxen bead of Life appeared a pearl 
 
 For it was lying in Illusion's shell. 
 But even then my restless spirit sought, 
 
 To peer beyond the golden age of Youth ; 
 And, as if miracles for me were wrought, 
 
 Sudden before me, stood a dwarf uncouth. 
 
 A volume iron-bound was in his hand. 
 
 It seemed a primer, in his potent grasp ; 
 He pointed to it with a gesture bland 
 
 And waited my permission to unclasp. 
 Affrighted by this formidable vision, 
 
 No power had I to articulate ; 
 He saw, and said with something like derision 
 
 4 'Methought you wished to read the Book of Fate- 
 
 "But Lady, I've no time for idling here, 
 
 Thou 'It scan these pages presently, or never ! 
 If curiosity can't conquer fear, 
 
 I blame thee not — but say farewell for ever." 
 It was my boast above my sex to rise, 
 
 Nor to frail nerves yield faculties robust ; 
 I therefore strove my terror to disguise, 
 
 And to conceal invincible disgust. 
 
 Trembling with eagerness, I seized the tome, 
 In frontispiece a wood -cut represented ; 
 
 A cradled infant in its cottage home, 
 
 Beneath a window with the woodbine scented. 
 A second picture— of superior grace. 
 
 Subject unvaried, scene diversified ; 
 
 A child, but recognized of gentle race, 
 By nursery appendages of pride. 
 
 Turn over — a magnificent engraving ! 
 
 Another infant in a grand berceau 
 Feathers from birds of rarest beauty* waving 
 
 To guard its slumbers from the insect foe. 
 
 * Peacock. 
 
 258 
 
Poems. 
 
 The social tiers-etat here thus defined, 
 Distinctions at which levellers still laugh ; 
 
 But what I dreaded, yet desired to find, 
 
 Was my own doom, in Fate's great autograph. 
 
 "Courage !" exclaimed the pigmy, as his finger, 
 
 Passed to a dark inscription in the centre ; 
 But ere my eye upon the leaf could linger, 
 
 A warning reached me from a viewless mentor. 
 "Beware ! nor heed the false and fatal guide, 
 
 Tempting thy soul to such enormity ; 
 Thou would 'st have known, but for presumptuous pride 
 
 Man's direst foe in that deformity." 
 
 The voice tho' low was so distinct and clear, 
 
 On the malignant' s startled ear it fell : 
 'Twas now his turn, for demonstrating fear, 
 
 Aghast he fled, uttering a fiendish yell. 
 Illusion, once again to reinstate, 
 
 Was now my guardian-angel's darling aim ; 
 She raised the knocker of a Fairy-gate, 
 
 The Queen of dreams, herself as portress came. 
 
 "I call to ask, if thou with subtle thread, 
 
 Will cross thy loom, for yon intrepid mortal ; 
 She seeks Reality, the stern, the dread, 
 
 And stood but lately at his icy portal. 
 She fancies she can wrestle with the giant, 
 
 Nor knows his glove of steel is ever on ; 
 Oh ! shield her spirit, sensitive and pliant, 
 
 From shocks that crush the moral amazon." 
 
 Mab kindly wrought a net of all things bright 
 
 Coleur-de-rose reviving briefly there ; 
 But Youth past o'er it, though with sandal light 
 
 And Fancies' broidery was left threadbare. 
 
 259 
 
Poems. 
 
 FANCY AND FEELING. 
 
 Oh ! think not that Fancy, the slave of my will, 
 E'er turns at its bidding" to chords of the heart ; 
 
 With the touch of the past, they are tremulous still, 
 And their plaintive vibrations will never depart. 
 
 But Fancy is free — and will range at her pleasure, 
 
 Wherever capricious variety leads ; 
 Disdaining the shell whose monotonous measure, 
 
 L,ike the moan of the sea-conch is murmured through weeds. 
 
 And oft in her rambles are caroilings heard, 
 Like sudden out-breakings of infantile glee, 
 
 While the strings of the spirit by memory stirred, 
 Elicit such tears as the world may not see. 
 
 The morgue* represents in eccentric tableau, 
 
 The lights of the living, and shades of the dead ; 
 
 For music is there — a parterre, and jets-d'eau — 
 And children will sport in its hearse it is said. 
 
 Even thus amid melodies, fountains and flowers, 
 The muse independent of feeling will stray ; 
 
 In the soul which the pall of despondency covers, 
 Her offspring poetic will carelessly play. 
 
 Then wrong not the minstrel nor think while she sings, 
 The drop of forgetfulness deadens her woe ; 
 
 Tenaciously still to her bosom it clings, 
 
 Though fanciful warblings she may not forego. 
 
 * A receptacle for suicides. 
 
 A SINGULAR DISPUTE. 
 
 "In the garden of the Palais Royal, there is a small brass cannon, 
 upon the touch-hole of which the rays of the sun as it passes the 
 meridian are brought to a focus with a lens — this fires the cannon 
 and indicates the hour of twelve." 
 
 Among the celestials, paraded two cars, 
 
 The one of Apollo, the other of Mars, 
 
 The steeds of the Sun, trailed a network of gold, 
 
 260 
 
Poems. 
 
 And clouds caught its radiance as onward it rolled. 
 The War-team equipped in a different taste, 
 Wore meshes of crimson with pearls interlaced ; 
 A type of the union 'twixt tear drops and blood, 
 By the Genius of Battle, so well understood. 
 'Twas nearly meridian (at Paris I mean) 
 The Palais Royal in perspective was seen. 
 Its garden a motley assemblage attracted, 
 To see the noon-miracle duly enacted. 
 
 "Stand back from the zenith !" cried Sol the divine, 
 
 "Do I ever intrude upon your gory shrine? 
 
 Away, yonder cannon my touch is awaiting, 
 
 Yet here for precedence you keep me debating." 
 
 "That task shall be mine !" shouted ireful Mars, 
 
 And the clash of their chariots elicited Stars. 
 
 "Talk' st thou of encroaching, tame twin of the Moon 
 
 To whom did Jove grant the belligerent boon ? 
 
 Thy rays may the harp of old Memnon requite, 
 
 Thy gilding its melodized chords may delight, 
 
 To thee sylvan gods may surrender the bow 
 
 With quarry from tiger to timorous doe ; 
 
 But in all that to martial achievement pertains 
 
 Thy brother, young minstrel, lord paramount reigns. 
 
 Then yield — nor my miniature ordnance fire 
 
 Or vengeance shall light on thy laurel, and lyre." 
 
 Twelve strokes on the musical clock of the Graces ! 
 
 Lo ! vertical Day, with victorious paces, 
 
 The wonted explosion has just consummated, 
 
 By amateur engineers long celebrated. 
 
 NATURAL AND ARTIFICIAL FLOWERS, 
 
 Two lovely Floras stood before me, 
 So much alike in hue and stature, 
 Vision alone could not assure me, 
 
 261 
 
Poems. 
 
 They were not children both of nature. 
 Flattered beyond discretion's power, 
 The artificial nymph advanced. 
 Forgetful that no fragrant dower, 
 The beauty of her tints enhanced, 
 Rashness betrayed the mimic Flora, 
 At once her talisman was broken ; 
 I turned to her on whom Aurora, 
 Had lavished many a pearly token; 
 The blush, the odour, and the grace, 
 Were such as art had never known, 
 And gazing on her glowing face, 
 Prayed to the gods to give her tone. 
 Not vainly was the boon implored, 
 Her lips no longer were comprest, 
 But flowery tropes profusely poured, < 
 Whose melody the world confest. 
 Cupid flew round to belles and beaux, 
 To greet them on the novel gift, 
 That so adroitly could disclose, 
 Delicate hearts' most secret drift. 
 And whose rhetorical bouquets 
 Human address must supersede ; 
 Whose vegetable lyres and lays 
 Supplant the pastoral lute and reed. 
 The spirit whose inodorous heath, 
 Repelled at first my admiration, 
 In triumph now displayed her wreath, 
 And vented thus her indignation, 
 My rival's bloom so greatly prized, 
 Must with the summer-birds depart ; 
 We too the Gods have vocalized, 
 Each timid feeling to impart. 
 Un withered I maintain my station, 
 Let seasons vary as they may, 
 Nor heed the wintry congelation, 
 
 262 
 
Poems. 
 
 More than the dog* star's burning' ray, 
 Towards the rose of my creation, 
 The Nightingale deceived shall wing 
 And with melodious gratuition, 
 Salute the fancied queen of Spring. 
 My blossoms shall delude the bees, 
 And lure the wandering butterflies ; 
 Too vast the catalogue of these, 
 For me to name or you surmise. 
 Suffice it that despotic fashion, 
 To me the palm has ne'er denied ; 
 And that the poetry of passion, 
 My balmless buds have typified. 
 She ceased — and nature's late adorer, 
 No longer art's pretension spurns, 
 Raising a shrine to either Flora, 
 She vows to worship both by turns. 
 
 MORAL VEGETATION. 
 
 I traced from nature's tiniest leaf, 
 
 As it were on a fancy chart, 
 Through buds and briars, joy and grief 
 
 The vegetation of the heart. 
 
 I saw a careless hand destroy 
 
 The mimic watch a child had worn 
 
 And knew that in that broken toy, 
 I looked upon Life's pristine thorn. 
 
 Another nettle soon projected, 
 
 It was the little scholar's task ; 
 Forbidden sweets by toil collected, 
 
 Its playful spirit did not ask. 
 
 From filaments the most minute, 
 
 That wound themselves round every feeling 
 Shot out Hope's green, excursive root, 
 
 A thousand evil weeds concealing. 
 263 
 
Poems. 
 
 From that same radicle uprose, 
 
 A stem that seemed almost too slender, 
 
 For aught upon it to repose, 
 
 But things the lightest and most tender. 
 
 Yet was the blossom it sustained, 
 So firmly with its fibres bound, 
 
 Though Reason every nerve had strained, 
 She could not bring it to the ground. 
 
 Tenacious L,ove alone I said 
 
 Would on such slight support be leaning, 
 On hope it rests its blushing head, 
 
 Fresh odor from the contact gleaning. 
 
 Near these a fine perennial bloomed, 
 Whose depth of shadow fell on both ; 
 
 The loved, the lost, the long entombed, 
 Were balmed beneath its ample growth. 
 
 Who could not Memory recognize? 
 
 Or that sweet efflorescence crave, 
 Which flings its incense to the skies, 
 
 Or flourishes above the grave ? 
 
 There was a jaundiced-colored vine 
 Of Moorish soils the frequent guest, 
 
 To love its tendrils would incline, 
 Blighting the petals it carest. 
 
 'Tis noxious Jealousy that twists 
 Its tangled claspers round the soul, 
 
 And every gentle art resists 
 Its course erratic to control. 
 
 I touched a trembler in my path, 
 
 Nor thought the action had been heeded. 
 
 Until from wounded pride or wrath 
 Its quivering foliage had receded. 
 
 264 
 
Poems. 
 
 I marked with curious eye the tree, 
 
 That e'en the dew drops seemed to crush; 
 
 And pitied Sensibility, 
 
 Oppressed by sorrow's gentlest gush. 
 
 There was a frothy looking flower, 
 That tossed its bell in every breeze; 
 
 Ogling the beaux of every bower 
 Gay butterflies and graver bees. 
 
 I knew by its inanity, 
 
 Not less than by its tawdry glare, 
 I contemplated Vanity, 
 
 Of human walks the worthless tare. 
 
 Another plant, (seen from afar) 
 
 With this might be identified; 
 Between a meteor and a star, 
 
 Disparity is not more wide. 
 
 The first to earth will humbly sink 
 
 In evanescent adulation; 
 True Pride from this will ever shrink , 
 
 Aspiring to self -approbation. 
 
 Ambitious grandiflora there 
 
 Towers upon its lofty stalk; 
 Nor limit brooks of space or air 
 
 That might its bold expansion balk. 
 
 I gazed upon it and was thrilled ! 
 
 Its verdant pedestal is rooted 
 Beside false Glory that will gild 
 
 Its palmy leaves howe'er polluted. 
 
 Joy's brilliant calyx bursts aloft 
 To dust Grief's dark corolla droops; 
 
 Thus Passion-flowers, stern or soft, 
 In idle mood the minstrel groups. 
 
 265 
 
Poems. 
 
 Spirit of this disastrous hour 
 
 Thy shadow rests upon my chart, 
 
 Bursting with vital bud and flower, 
 The vegetation of the heart. 
 
 SILVER FORKS AND STEEL KNIVES. 
 
 1838. 
 
 Out on the silver Fork ; lost to all pride, 
 
 It is linked to a base-born, inglorious bride; 
 
 Finely-tempered, perhaps, but of pedigree mean, 
 
 And e'er at the tables of commoners seen. 
 
 Of viands plebeian, it conjures the shade 
 
 And mutton-chop memories cling to its blade ; 
 
 True History parallels such misdemeanors ; 
 
 Lo ! Peter the Great and his laundress-czarina, 
 
 Canaille, too, by Cupid to peeresses raised, 
 
 And many odd things, that the world have amazed, 
 
 Yet cannot I tolerate such misalliance, 
 
 Lilliputians in rank, with Brobdignags giants 
 
 Should a Fork whose escutcheon exhibits no soil 
 
 Its quarterings blend with a Birmingham foil ? 
 
 Or argent supporters coarse fragments sustain 
 
 Of herds that in shambles ignobly were slain ? 
 
 Anatomized ortolans, nightingales' tongues, 
 
 Alone should in contact be brought with its prongs. 
 
 Why not trim common homespun with Valenciennes lace? 
 
 Or Dresden tea-cups within Delft saucers place ? 
 
 Tuscan vases pollute with the poppy's perfume, 
 
 Or a rustic hat deck with a rich ostrich plume ? 
 
 Such things ye might quite as consistently mate. 
 
 As a couple now flanking yon gold-edged plate. 
 
 The knife seemed this moment my insult to feel, 
 And replied in a style, not unworthy of steel. 
 "ignoble indeed is the Silver Fork's bride ; 
 And cutting alas ! must be to his pride, 
 
 266 
 
Poems. 
 
 To see me indebted to menials and dust, 
 For the polish that tends to preserve me from rust. 
 Yet, kindred am I to the warrior's sword, 
 The feudal appendage of Baron and L,ord. 
 To the classical spear, and to Chivalry's lance, 
 That flourish in epics, and flash in romance. 
 A thousand bright links of my lineage proud, 
 Have gallantly gleamed in the tournament crowd. 
 Nor can' st thou forget, what a numerous clan, 
 Have carved out renown for aspiring man. 
 Ungrateful the Bard, who with weapon of steel, 
 Has turned 'gainst itself in satiric appeal. 
 
 BONAPARTE AND BARON DE MENNEVAL. 
 
 Upon some important occasion Sec. de Menneval, after three days' 
 incessant employment of his pen fell asleep in the midst of a sen- 
 tence. Napoleon, whose practice it was to dictate while pacing the 
 room without looking at his amanuensis ascertained the fact only by 
 the cessation of the accustomed sound of the quill. Gently approach- 
 ing the sleeper, he extricated the implement from his fingers and 
 calmly continued his task. The Baron's consternation upon awaking 
 may be readily conjectured. Poetic latitude has become indulged in 
 amplifying the Kmperor's "Allez vous Concher." 
 
 The Secretary yielded— long and vain 
 Had been his struggle against slumber's chain 
 With aching- head declined upon his breast 
 His wearied organs were betrayed to rest, 
 Three days, three toilsome days, his trusted pen, 
 Obeyed the dictate of the first of men, 
 The fourth, a more imperious behest 
 Decreed the little traveller should rest. 
 The quill suspends its course at slumber's call 
 Relaxing fingers menacing its fall. 
 Napoleon pacing- still the chamber's length, 
 Sustained by wild ambition's fiercest strength 
 Intent alone upon its eagle swoop, 
 Had never dreamed another's sense might droop, 
 
 267 
 
Poems. 
 
 Who 'neath the shadow of his mighty wing- 
 Poised a slight plume, to aid his glorious spring, 
 With head averted from the sleeping scribe, 
 His rapid phrase directs the threat or bribe, 
 The subtle policy or stretch of power 
 As best might suit the spirit of the hour. 
 But soon he missed the pen's familiar sound 
 Sudden he turned— and wrathful looked around. 
 Another minute and his anger fled, 
 The noble Emperor, with anxious tread 
 Approached the desk — the implement assumed 
 And the suspended bulletin resumed. 
 The patron's footfall now no more recurs, 
 Instinctive memory the dreamer stirs, 
 He wakes — he starts— his eye has caught the form 
 That dread distorts to an embodied stone, 
 Terror and shame divide the sway of feeling 
 His brow is burning and his brain is reeling. 
 "O ! pardon Sire ! Nature's strong appeal 
 Long combated by unremitting zeal 
 Prevailed not with me till the midnight oil, 
 Three several times illumed my ceaseless toil." 
 "So long without repose ? the hero asked 
 Why not remind methou'st been overtasked? 
 "Allez concher !*' I had forgotten quite 
 The bird whose feather followed thus my flight. 
 I who have couched upon an atlas oft, 
 Remembered not that others were more soft. 
 "Allez concher" the curtain of the sky, 
 Has often hung above my sleepless eye. 
 And when upon the outer world it closes 
 Think you I dream of lying upon roses ? 
 Tocsins in universal 'larum ring 
 And servile tributaries incense bring, 
 Then, papal potentates suspend their masses 
 To sing the victor's paean as he passes. 
 
 268 
 
Poems. 
 
 Crowns, mitres, coronets lie at my feet, 
 In every brother I a monarch greet, 
 To Simplon's snow-girt road I link my name 
 And through that via gloria trust to fame. 
 Mother and Country triumph in my birth 
 Their son still wresting homage from the Earth, 
 Who would exchange with visions such as these 
 A stony pillow for a couch of ease ? 
 Three days have I too worn my warrior's casque 
 Yet shall my iron nerves complete thy task 
 "Allez concher" unlaurelled temples need 
 The rest that from tiaras may recede." 
 
 LINES. 
 
 On Beholding the New Synagogue, 
 
 1840. 
 
 Ere Hebrew Minstrel's hands were chained 
 
 Or Harps on willows slept ; 
 Idolatry his chords had strained, 
 
 Though prophets warned and wept. 
 The wreath that bound his brow sublime 
 
 Fell withering at their curse 
 Captivity avenged the crime, 
 
 Of all his race perverse. 
 
 He sings again beneath the star 
 
 Of Freedom's Holy Land ; 
 And Hallelujahs heard afar 
 
 Resound from Israel's band. 
 Lips are the only censers now. 
 
 To waft the heart's oblation 
 On these, Eternal Ruler ! throw 
 
 Thy spirit's radiation. 
 
 Behold, O ! Mighty Architect, 
 
 What love for Thee, has wrought ; 
 This Fane arising from the wrecked, 
 
 269 
 
Poems . 
 
 Beauty from ashes brought. 
 Oh ! when we glance with finite eye, 
 
 From Stars to Ocean's shells, 
 A Temple each, where Deity, 
 
 Magnificently dwells. 
 
 How shrink the noblest works of man 
 
 And all his boasted powers, 
 Before Creation's glorious plan 
 
 From satellites to flowers. 
 But Hope yet brighter far than these, 
 
 Sister of Faith divine 
 By her own light a blessing sees 
 
 Descending on this shrine. 
 
 From Angel now to Angel flies 
 
 Amen ! in sweet accord : 
 Ye mortal choristers arise 
 
 And echo Mercy's word. 
 
 LINKS 
 
 On the Persecution of the Jews of Damascus. 
 
 Why slumbers now, on Palestine, the spirit of the past ? 
 When thy holy hills re-echoed to the silver clarion's blast 
 That summoned to the battle field the tribes of the elect 
 Whose tents like snowy pyramids, thy sacred borders specked. 
 Where are thy martial princes now, their cohorts and their 
 cars, 
 
 And all the "pomp and circumstance" of Israel's glorious 
 
 wars ? 
 The laurels of thy chivalry in vassalage were blighted 
 And ruin on thy palaces and temples has alighted. 
 Oh ! for the god-like champion now, the gallant charioteer 
 To rally with a brother's love, round Hebrews in despair. 
 Yet woe to thee, Damascus ! whose burden was rehearsed, 
 When prophesy denounced thee as a city thrice accursed. 
 The quiver of Omnipotence hath not its arrows spent 
 
 270 
 
Pop:ms. 
 
 Though thy sceptre then was broken, and thjr robes of 
 splendor rent. 
 
 For modern scripture dips in gore the pen that would record 
 
 Wrongs that for vengeance loudly cry, to Judah's Sovereign 
 Iyord 
 
 Long has the spirit's chain been worn by bigotry's decree, 
 
 But Persecution's flimsy veil is cast aside by thee. 
 
 The fiend's deformity revealed, with execrable arts, 
 
 She rouses dormant Prejudice, to blacken human hearts, 
 
 With subtle craft, she weaves a snare, the purest to decoy, 
 
 And laughs to see the timid son, his tortured sire destroy. 
 
 Confessions, wrung from agony, are registered in blood 
 
 And Mercy yet denies the stroke by faltering nature wooed. 
 
 Compassion drops the curtain here, and sensitively quails, 
 
 At all historic truth unfolds of tragical details. 
 
 The oriental sun looks forth, and sees the shuddering earth 
 
 Crimsoned with moisture as when homicide had birth. 
 
 His golden panoply grows dim at that appalling sight, 
 
 And Hermon's dews like heavenly tears tremble as they 
 
 alight, 
 
 Where is the knightly valor, that to Virtue's rescue flies 
 
 No matter what the shrine may be whereon the victim dies? 
 
 Ye delegates of nations ! could ye the suppliants scorn, 
 
 From whose inspired relics, revelation has been born? 
 
 Sajr, was the jealousy of faith, too strong for feeling's flow, 
 
 That ye, the bright prerogative of justice should forego ? 
 
 Were there no memories in your hearts, that brought op- 
 pression home 
 
 When the crescent of the Ottoman, gleamed o'er the classic 
 
 dome ? 
 Philanthropy's mild treaty then, the Christian votary freed? 
 Spirit of musical love ! that knows no special creed. 
 Yet generous Britain ! for thy sake that thought shall be 
 
 repelled 
 Who in thy zealous promptitude all Europe hath excelled ! 
 God of the human commonwealth! thy promise consummate, 
 And in thy favor once again, "thy chosen" reinstate. 
 
 271 
 
Poems. 
 
 That with me, above the rest of Earth's distinctions claim 
 For man can boast no heraldry, of higher, prouder fame. 
 Great pillar of the wilderness ! turn not thy light away 
 But let the beams of clemenc}' around the remnant play 
 The adversary lifts his bow, his shafts are on the wing, 
 Arise, oh ! Lord of hosts arise ! and swift redemption bring. 
 One prayer ascends from Israel, one chorus from the heart 
 That sorrow from the dwellings of their brethren may depart! 
 Then shall my song like Miriam's in grateful triumph swell 
 As when her country's callous foe, and stern oppressor fell! 
 
 Note. — Damascus, signifying the blood of a righteous person is 
 said to have derived its name from Abel's having been murdered there. 
 
 A FUNERAL CHANT. 
 For David Arari — Thk Hero of Damascus. 
 
 Rest martyr, rest ! 'neath the Syrian sod, 
 
 Whose spirit ne'er bowed but to truth, and thy God ! 
 
 No tyrant the freedom of Faith now controls, 
 
 Or breaks the repose of the Sabbath of souls, 
 
 Thou art gone hoary victim in heavenly trust 
 
 Thy ransom for Israel shall spring from the dust. 
 
 Rest, martyr rest ! 
 
 Has glory a trophy for one of thy mould ? 
 Her laurels, her palms, and her fillets of gold, 
 Are trinkets and tares for those heroes of earth 
 Whose deeds in profaner ambition have birth. 
 Their pulses to perilous emprise are stirred 
 By mountebank fame with a magical word. 
 
 She points to the pyramid, power ascends, 
 And a plume to the pinion of victory lends. 
 
 Rest, Martyr rest ! 
 
 But visions of conquest, no radiance shed, 
 When thou self-devoted in sacrifice bled. 
 No balm for thy quivering fibres were found, 
 No lenitive need for the spiritual mound. 
 
 272 
 
Poems. 
 
 Alone hast thou wrested in Life's writing mane, 
 And fallen untainted by perjury's stain. 
 The beauty of holiness closed thy career, 
 Immortality's echo repeats thy last prayer. 
 
 Rest, Martyr rest ! 
 
 In fancy awhile, we to foreign shores stray 
 And look placid stranger upon thy pale clay. 
 The smile on thy lip of benignity born, 
 Seams parted in death between pity and scorn. 
 Thy bosom's deep agony left not a trace, 
 Integrity's bold granite brow to deface ; 
 There, still is that fortitude finely revealed, 
 That from man to thy Maker for justice appealed. 
 
 Rest, Martyr rest ! 
 
 The rose of Damascus shall deepen its glow, 
 
 On that spot that has witnessed thy mercy and woe 
 
 While pilgrim enthusiasts gather the flower 
 
 That blushingly clings to thy own ruined bower, 
 
 And pensively over thy sepulchre strew 
 
 Its leaves and their purest libation of dew. 
 
 Away thoughtless bard ! to the East must they turn 
 
 O'er the tomb of the murdered Arari to mourn ? 
 
 In vain shall they seek it upon the world's chart, 
 
 His monument stands in the Hebrew's sad heart. 
 
 THE JESSAMINE AND THE EVENING STAR. 
 
 A sweet little flower lay drooping and pale, and Flora in 
 tender dismay, 
 
 Implored every sunbeam and dewdrop and gale, to shield 
 her fair child from decay. 
 
 But she turned from them all with an audible sigh, which 
 the breeze in his pilgrimage stole 
 
 For he said 'twas a pity such perfume should die, as ex- 
 haled from the Jessamine's soul. 
 
 273 
 
Poems. 
 
 In vain did her sisters now weep, now bewail, as she daily 
 
 more delicate grew ; 
 Her leaves o'er her heart were drawn closer, to veil her 
 
 sorrowful secret from view. 
 The fairy Arabian had fallen in love, with what or with 
 
 whom, you demand ? 
 With the star of the evening, that glittered above, like a 
 
 beacon in Faith's father-land. 
 
 The planet had looked on the vestal of Earth, and admired 
 its exquisite form ; 
 
 Still wondering whether it there had its birth, or had 
 downward been cast by a storm. 
 
 For so much it resembled his beautiful race, that he fan- 
 cied some cherub of light 
 
 Had fallen perhaps, in its infantine grace, like spirits pre- 
 destined to blight. 
 
 The innocent blossom observing his gaze, so frequently 
 
 fastened upon her, 
 Her brown head uplifted in timid amaze till his lustre and 
 
 purity won her 
 She thought not of danger to one in her station whose hope 
 
 should so highly aspire ; 
 For oft had she listened to I^ove's revelation, as sung upon 
 
 poetry's lyre. 
 
 It told her of links between angel and mortal, cemented by 
 
 his sovereign spell, 
 Which now might re-open the firmament's portal, and lure 
 
 the star down to her cell. 
 But in vain had her vigil at twilight been kept, for he left 
 
 not his brilliant location ; 
 And though touched when he saw that the Jessamine wept, 
 
 of her tears never guessed the occasion. 
 
 274 
 
Poems- 
 
 She asked of the meteors that fell from the sky, if no billet 
 or message they brought ? 
 
 But they ever expired without a reply and no change in her 
 feelings was wrought. 
 
 And, as in the secrets of Nature while prying, some mys- 
 tery strange to explore 
 
 I found that the sweet little flower was dying, and the veil 
 from its bosom then tore. 
 
 The cause of its grief at a glance I detected, and the suf- 
 ferer bore to a brook, 
 
 When the image of Heaven was clearly reflected, that again 
 on its light she might look. 
 
 For no longer she lifted her languishing head, to the planet 
 so madly adored ; 
 
 But turned in despair to her last earthly bed, and peace for 
 her spirit implored. 
 
 Alas, on beholding the stream's mimic rays, to the depths 
 the enamored soon darted 
 
 And the Evening star yet in tranquility plays, where the 
 Jessamine died broken-hearted. 
 
 Now read gentle maidens my moral aright, nor blindly in- 
 dulge predilections, 
 
 For those who long placed on some eminence bright, regard 
 not the human affections. 
 
 LINES. 
 
 On the Following Inscription Fronting the New 
 
 Synagogue. 
 
 "Know Before Whom Thou Standest." 
 
 A voice of power from the elder time 
 
 A voice that homage from the Earth commandeth, 
 On Israel calls with energy sublime, 
 
 To know in whose dread presence he here standeth. 
 
 275 
 
Poems. 
 
 It bids him at the portal put away 
 
 His sandal sullied o'er with sordid dust ; 
 
 In godliness his spirit to array 
 
 Or ere he seeks the merciful and just. 
 
 Passions profane ye mortals cast afar, 
 And let your hearts to holy love expand, 
 
 Ere ye the sanctuary's gates unbar 
 Or dare before Omnipotence to stand. 
 
 In vain would ye some worldly idol hide 
 Within the temple of the spirit shrined, 
 
 Some golden monster blindly deified 
 
 To which immortal hope has been resigned. 
 
 No fibre in the meshes of temptation 
 
 By the all-seeing eye has been unscanned ; 
 
 No lure that leads thy soul from its salvation 
 Evade the Searcher before whom ye stand . 
 
 If wrath towards thy fellow man remain 
 In thy frail bosom an abiding guest, 
 
 Seek not the altar, like the vengeful Cain 
 
 With malice 'gainst thy brethren in thy breast. 
 
 E'en at the threshold the dark feeling cast, 
 Whose shadow dwelt upon the brow too long, 
 
 Thou stand'st before the present, future, past ! 
 The judge supreme of every human wrong. 
 
 Enter not lightly then the house of prayer, 
 Nor hymn with lip of guile the praise of God ; 
 
 Balm will be found for meek contrition there 
 For contumacy, an impeding rod. 
 
 Behold yon testimonial tablets traced 
 
 By Judah's providence with outstretched hand 
 
 List to the voice that thunders from the waste 
 "Know ye, before whose majesty ye stand ! M 
 
 276 
 
Poems. 
 
 ADDRESSED TO THE COMET. 
 
 March, 1843. 
 
 Mysterious star ! whose course is uncontrolled, 
 To curious mortals wilt thou not unfold 
 The purpose of thy presence in our skies 
 That e'en Urania views with deep surprise ? 
 
 The Queen of night rude to her stranger guest 
 Thy cognizance eclipses with her quest ; 
 And wisdom's voice hath never well revealed 
 What means thy blazonry on yon blue field. 
 
 Conjecture hath indeed a cheerless task 
 When the eccentric comets would unmask ; 
 But fancy may (if from irreverence free) 
 To heaven's gate apply her golden key. 
 
 To call thee Robin Hood would be profane 
 Though thou hath worn the celestial chain, 
 Woven by harmony, in holy love 
 To bind the brilliant brotherhood above. 
 
 A Caesar of the planetary sphere 
 
 No rubicon could bound thy bold career ! 
 
 No element'ry foe arrest thy race, 
 
 Or check thy march through universal space 
 
 Now haply thou would 'st reconnoitre posts 
 By science fill'd with formidable hosts 
 Com' st thou to quicken mesmerism's scheme 
 Or prove it only an attractive dream ? 
 
 Perhaps magnetic force compels thy flight 
 On to the source and centre of all light. 
 Doomed as the slave of great Sol's restless will 
 The lamp of waning satellites to fill. 
 
 Yet thine may be a pilgrimage divine 
 And thou' a monitor from Mercy's shrine 
 Mantled in glory to declare to earth 
 Things that move souls, e'en of immortal worth. 
 
 277 
 
POKMS. 
 
 Whether thou heraldest the martial storm 
 That shall the beauty of this globe deform ; 
 Point from afar the pestilential dart 
 Against each human sinner's hardened heart ; 
 
 Or bearest promise from the throne of grace 
 That the ''recording Angel" shall efface 
 Whole years of guilt if penitence sincere 
 For past transgressions drop the frequent tear. 
 
 Thou art a marvel still, a link sublime, 
 Between the present and the elder time ! 
 And vassal man, to God, the sovereign kneels. 
 Whose frown or smile, in thee, he fears or feels, 
 
 HOPE, LAUGHTER AND SLEEP. 
 
 A pretty trio truly to bring before the public ! The first a notorious 
 promise breaker ! a siren against whose melodies there would have 
 been no brazen defence even for the mariners of Ulysses. A little 
 coquette to whom Prometheus gave a box ticket when manager of 
 the theatre of the passions. The second a decided muscle man, an 
 abettor of the practices of dentists, who without his connivance would 
 find little sale for their porcelain counterfeits of nature's pear] s, his 
 broad demonstrations being necessary to keep up a stock in the coral 
 show case. The third Cousin-german to the king of terrors makes a 
 prisoner of free will and keeps him in chains while a vagrant usurper 
 turns the palace of reason into a play house where the dramatic unities 
 of time and place are utterly outraged, scenes shifted with magical 
 celerity by invisible agents, and characters represented that would 
 startle the muses of the sock and buskin. Talk of Macbeth's mur- 
 dering sleep ? a mere flourish of the metaphorical quill ! Why a 
 wish or a nod of his is sufficient to make royalty itself bow down. 
 Hey-day ! have I been slumbering ? Well I shall be better able to 
 judge of the verses after this rest-oration of my faculties. 
 
 Hope, Laughter and Sleep accidentally met 
 
 One day in the valley of tears 
 There they strove by their spells to make mortals forget 
 
 The briars Life's tree ever bears. 
 
 278 
 
Poems. 
 
 Then was it that Laughter the title assumed 
 
 Of chief counter acter of care 
 Protesting the roses of health ever bloomed 
 
 Most brightly within his own sphere. 
 
 That buried in dimples the blue devils lay 
 
 Whenever his muscles dilated 
 That embryo wrinkles and wringlets of gray 
 
 Were by gaiety expatriated. 
 
 Then Hope (fairy god dame of each Cinderella 
 
 To sackcloth and ashes condemned) 
 Declared herself principal vapor distiller 
 
 Of all by Ennui overwhelmed. 
 
 That the indigo banner that demon unfurled 
 
 Had been sent by her power alone, 
 And that laughter is sweet to the ear of the world 
 
 As the echo of Hope's silver tone. 
 
 ''Not so" replied mirth "for you sing a falsetto 
 
 That truth's amateurs disapprove 
 Yet thy spirit I grant lends a fine allegretto 
 
 To the music of nature and love." 
 
 Now Sleep, though her eyelids were closed all the while 
 Caught some of the words they had spoken 
 
 Half dreaming she mingled a song and a smile, 
 Lips parted and promises broken. 
 
 "To me above either" she drowsily muttered 
 
 "A garland should gratitude fling 
 Who when the heart's pulse by life's fever is fluttered 
 
 My balmly restorative bring." 
 
 Who paupers transform into proud millionaires 
 
 For ruffles exchanging their rags, 
 Large dividends give to small holder of shares 
 
 Fresh graces to withering hags. 
 
 279 
 
Poems. 
 
 For fancy is ready to honor each draught, 
 That on temples of Mammon I make, 
 
 And sensitive bankrupts in slumber have laughed 
 At debts which they dread when awake. 
 
 Will Shakespeare once borrowed my needles to knit 
 Ravelled sleeves appertaining to care. 
 
 Though I would not obey his poetical writ 
 When summoned by Kings to appear. 
 
 The years of an antediluvian would fail 
 
 Ere I would my exploits recount, 
 But night is assuming her "star spangled veil'' 
 
 And with Mab, I my chariot must mount. 
 
 Some leaves from her chaplet of poppies she threw 
 On those who w~ould rival her power, 
 
 And away to the land of oblivion they flew 
 Nor returned till the dawn's dreary hour. 
 
 ETIQUETTE. 
 
 Dialogue Between Mrs. Fr ankle y and Mr. Trueman. 
 
 Mr. T. — Pray, Madam can you inform me what this Etiquette really 
 is, about which such a clamour is constantly raised ? 
 
 Mrs F.— My sir, your question would be better answered by a 
 Chinese or a Spaniard, with whom points of precedence and punc- 
 tilio are nearly as important as points of honor — and either of whom 
 would be well qualified to act as Grand Master of the Lodge of Cere- 
 mony As regards the word Etiquette, it is simply the French sub- 
 stitue for — A Ticket — by which talisman admission might be gained 
 into the magical circle of modish existence ; and indeed the present 
 state of social intercourse justifies this etymology. 
 
 Mr. T. — I wonder that sensible people do not agree to cage this 
 little porcupine of proprieties, whose quills are cast against all who 
 threw off the "Buckram suit" of decorum. Generally speaking how- 
 ever, Etiquette is most minutely practised and rigidly enforced when- 
 ever there is a want of self-respect or a doubt of possessing qualities 
 calculated to elicit respect from others. I have also remarked in the 
 
 280 
 
Poems. 
 
 course of my reading that empires verging to their decline were 
 always more exacting with regard to external demonstrations of def- 
 erence than such as have their constitutional sinews firmly strung. 
 
 Mrs F. — Commend me to the present method of making calls ! 
 Your servant presents you with a card pinched like some poor Cali- 
 ban by some invisible sprite. This pasteboard tacitly telegraphs that 
 a part or all of your family have been favored by a visitor. If you are 
 at all poetic you will exclaim : 
 
 Friendship indeed is but a name, 
 For racks of rare device to hoard, 
 A shadow cast by wealth or fame 
 Upon a strip of Bristol board. 
 
 And with this sublime quatrain you will close your reflections upon 
 hand-seeing, instead of hand-shaking, but this reminds me of Marie 
 Antoinette's nick name for Madame de Noailles of, Madame Etiquette, 
 whose insistence on the observance of ceremonies caused the poor 
 queen much annoyance. 
 
 MADAME VETIQUETTE. 
 
 Marie Antoinette's Nick Name for Madame de 
 
 Noaiixes. 
 
 Oh ! peace to thy spirit, Marie Antoinette, 
 With thy royal permission I'll honor awhile 
 
 A name of thy coinage, (Madame L,' Etiquette) 
 And with it re-christen each modern Noailles. 
 
 When I meet with the stately who will not descend 
 From the perch pointed out by formality's code 
 
 Who leave a dumb card at the door of a friend 
 In return for a visit by feeling bestowed. 
 
 I think of the fidgety, cold chaperone, 
 
 Of the graceful, free-mannered Marie Antoinette, 
 And the frost bitten gentry who mimic her home 
 
 I address as, Monsieur or Madame 1' Etiquette. 
 
 281 
 
Poems. 
 
 How long will the hearts of God's creatures be hollowed 
 
 By servile obedience to frivolous fashion ? 
 At whose bidding no impulse of glory is followed 
 
 No sentiment cherished of generous passion. 
 
 Let man through the rules of morality break, 
 
 Let woman the Faith she has plighted withdraw, 
 
 But the standard of Ton, let no mortal forsake 
 Nor rashly transgress her Imperial law. 
 
 Defend me kind Heaven (whatever their gender) 
 
 From those "wire-drawn puppets" who move at her pleasure 
 
 Who regardless of all that is truthful and tender 
 
 To that Empress of tinsel, resign friendship's treasure . 
 
 Oh ! peace to thy memory fair Antoinette, 
 
 A virtual slave, though a nominal Queen, 
 First crushed by that Engine of State, Etiquette, 
 
 Scarce felt was the stroke of the red guillotine. 
 
 WORKHOUSE ELLEN. 
 
 Founded on Fact. 
 
 Weeping at thought of fortune's altered mood 
 
 Within a parish workhouse Ellen stood ; 
 
 Her weekly task completed, she with tears, 
 
 Reviews a single relic of past years — 
 
 A silken gown, which to her lips she lifts 
 
 As the last fragment, of all luxury's gifts, 
 
 Was it the loss of finery she wept ? 
 
 Or that the rustling of that garment, swept 
 
 Sadly, yet soothingly, athwart the strings 
 
 Of that fine harp to which remembrance sings ? 
 
 282 
 
Poems. 
 
 Now the poor girl forgets the lapse of years ! 
 
 In her own village home again she hears 
 
 The Sabbath bell, that with its measured sound 
 
 Broke sweetly on the quietude profound. 
 
 There she before her rustic toilet stands 
 
 And at her glass resolves coquettish plans ; 
 
 Yet smiles in fancy upon him alone, 
 
 Whose glance she feels will first on her be thrown, 
 
 With whom from Church so pleasantly she walked 
 
 And o'er the moral of the sermon talked 
 
 While frequent deviations from the text, 
 
 Flattered their spirits, and their words perplexed. 
 
 Lastly the blush, that like a traitor rose 
 A woman's dearest secret to disclose ; 
 Followed by paleness that too plainly said 
 My love, my faith, my heart were all betrayed, 
 This and much more than poet can express 
 A record found upon that faded dress. 
 But on the day that I beheld her first 
 A flaw was seen in what she fondly nurst 
 A failing thread — a feeble pioneer, 
 That seemed the way for ruin to prepare. 
 Oh ! how shall I describe her wretched look 
 When in her trembling hand the robe she took, 
 And mildly asked me, "Will it, will it break? 
 Oh, say that it will not, for Mercy's sake 
 This silken fibre, to all eyes but mine 
 May seem as worthless as a spider's line ; 
 To me it is as one of Music's chords 
 That to the touch of memory affords 
 The echo of past melodies — a tone 
 That leads me to my mother's cold grave stone." 
 L,ife hung suspended on that fragile thread — 
 It broke and Bllen's sorrowing spirit fled ! 
 Did she by nature's hand there guiltless fall ? 
 Ah, no ! dark drops of blood defile her pall. 
 
 283 
 
Poems. 
 REFLECTIONS OF A BELLE. 
 
 On Her 20th Birthday. 
 
 Time has now tolled the knell of parting- teens, 
 And I have flourished among Fashion's queens 
 In all the sovereignty of youthful pace 
 Heedless how many years had fled apace. 
 "Full many a gem of purest ray serene,' ' 
 Upon the fingers of each hand is seen ; 
 One ring alone less beautiful, less bright 
 But far more precious in a maiden's sight 
 Is wanting to give value to the rest 
 The little circlet Love's last vow has blest. 
 
 What was Aladdin's talisman to this 
 True, timely token of connubial bliss ? 
 Slaves of the ring, had he, why such are all 
 Whom woman's magic blandishments enthraL 
 'Tis very strange, my centre table teems 
 With Souvenirs as brilliant as sunbeams, 
 And serenades, and exquisite bouquets, 
 Sweeten and melodize my nights and days. 
 Pope, of a birthday, justly says somewhere 
 1 'Tis but the funeral of a former year." 
 
 At twenty for lost time some tears may start 
 Although real sorrow touches not the heart 
 But when another score has swelled the list 
 And we the last remains of Youth have kissed ; 
 When Hope, chief mourner, at its burial stands. 
 Her golden wings enveloped in crepe bands 
 When Love with muffled tambourine appears, 
 Playing a dead march for departed years 
 Oh ! then how clamorous becomes our grief 
 Shaking the heart like an Autumnal leaf 
 To speak of fortitude is mockery then 
 'Tis like the opening of a wound again. 
 
 284 
 
Poems. 
 
 Twenty to-day ! why that's somewhat alarming" 
 And yet my glass assures me I am charming 
 And many voices echo its report 
 And fine, full whiskered beaus my favor court. 
 What can have put such folly in my head ? 
 Can I in loneliness Life's pathway tread ? 
 Impossible ! and yet of belles I've often heard 
 Who spread the lure so long, that not a bird 
 At last would venture near the known decoy 
 Framed of the arrows of the Paphian boy. 
 
 And Uncle tells me Plutus is abroad 
 
 Stealing the incense of the infant God ; 
 
 That crowds of worshippers his shrine attend 
 
 While few before poor Cupid's altar bend. 
 
 "The times are out of joint" — and no bone setter 
 
 Can make the cripples, march a jot the better; 
 
 And they who with their movements would keep pac 
 
 Must on their feet the meanest gaiters brace. 
 And throwing sentimental stilts away 
 To cent-per-cent alone devotion pay. 
 
 So then, Romance, I bid thee here farewell ; 
 And break at once, from they delusive spell. 
 W 7 ithin a month, (at least if in my power) 
 My brow shall wear the bridal orange flower. 
 
 THOUGHTS. 
 
 On the "Ten Days of Penitence" that Precede thi» 
 Day of Atonement. 
 
 Ten days of penitence ? Will these suffice 
 To cleanse the bosom of its hidden vice ? 
 Oh ! can these periodic tithes of time 
 Suffice to expiate whole years of crime ? 
 
 285 
 
Poems. 
 
 No ! true contrition's date is ne'er defined, 
 Its tears flow not at seasons thus assigned ; 
 It asks of all who would reform their course, 
 A tenor, not a spasm, of remorse. 
 
 Yet some there are who heed the dial's hand, 
 More than religion's uniform command ! 
 Some who to calendars and customs cleave, 
 And ever wait their sanction to receive, 
 E'er from the world they brief! y will retreat, 
 To cast themselves at their Creators 's feet ! 
 Worshipping more in terror than in trust, 
 The God who breathed his spirit in their dust. 
 
 And yet, if only on appointed days 
 Frail man his soul's infirmities surveys, 
 Nor will diverge from interest's golden track 
 Till summoned thence by custom's almanac. 
 'Tis well ! for e'en by this imperfect token, 
 He proves his spirit's slumber has been broken, 
 
 But oh ! far better would it be for man, 
 If every day of his allotted span 
 He would some little portion set apart, 
 For self -review and chastening of the heart. 
 Take but a tithe of four and twenty hours, 
 To plant the seeds of virtue's rarest flowers, 
 Or pluck away the moral tares that lie, 
 Hidden from all but Heaven's watchful eye. 
 
 Then prejudice its rancor would resign, 
 Which even at the consecrated shrine, 
 While for a Father's blessing it appeals, 
 Hate to a harmless Brother oft reveals. 
 Fierce malice then from falsehood would desist, 
 And in the service of fair truth enlist. 
 Shallow pretension would its pride forego 
 
 286 
 
Poems- 
 
 And dignity's true essence learn to know. 
 
 The mantle then o'er mortal passions cast, 
 
 By daily probings pierced, would fall at last ! 
 
 And when Atonement's period draws near, 
 
 Triumphant Hope would silence timid fear. 
 
 And faith whose great commandment had been heard, 
 
 Forbidding penitence to be deferred, 
 
 Would keep, unstained by guilt, undimmed by shame, 
 
 God's holy image in the human frame. 
 
 FOLLOW MY PLUME ! 
 
 'Follow my Plume ! you will always find it on the road to victory. ' ' 
 
 [Henry IV. 
 
 Though royal Henry was indeed the first 
 
 From whose bold lip this ralljdng sentence burst ! 
 
 Yet sounds like these e'en from creation's date, 
 
 Seemed through all nature to reverberate. 
 
 At least so fancy whispered in a dream 
 
 And thus the muse reports it in her theme. 
 
 Follow my star ! a seraph- chieftain said, 
 And Lucifer the holy Creatures led 
 Far from the throne of everlasting love, 
 Where they in harmony were wont to move. 
 
 Follow my crest the subtle serpent cried — 
 And woman listened to rebellion's guide — 
 But wept when first corruption played its part, 
 And entered as a worm, a flower's heart. 
 Precursor of the canker brought by sin, 
 To spoil the loom without— the sweets within 
 Man, thrilling heard the ruined angel's call ! 
 Earth, trembling felt the ruined mortal's fall ! 
 
 287 
 
Poems. 
 
 Follow my Plume ! by turns the passions next 
 Took for their motto, and their magic text 
 These simple words — in which there seemed to dwell 
 A charm, a witchery, a potent spell. 
 
 A voice of scorn rings through the vale of tears ; 
 
 In princes only I behold my peers ! 
 
 Fondly to all life's pageantries I cleave 
 
 And e'en my shroud of glittering threads would weave, 
 
 Me from the herd let boundless space divide— 
 
 Follow, ye courtly few, the plume of pride. 
 
 Ambition's heart to its deep core vibrates 
 The tone that from that spirit emanates 
 Be mine the sceptre ! 'tis the gilded rod, 
 By which the world is into homage awed. 
 Mine be the tuft, forever seen to tower 
 In glory's casque, above the brow of power. 
 Touched are the bosom-chords of avarice too, 
 Who keeps the brilliant crest of wealth in view. 
 
 But jealousy exclaims with looks of gloom, 
 Follow not pride — she wears a peacock's plume ; 
 And where ambition's crimson feather waves, 
 Earth's garden changes to a place of graves. 
 Nor yet to affluence allegiance yield, 
 'Gainst sorrow's dart, it hath no golden shield. 
 
 What is the burthen of the banquet song 
 By pleasure carolled to the passing throng ! 
 And what the chorus sent from beauty's bower, 
 Where blight, unseen, is working every hour ? 
 This chime melodious ! till their days consume, 
 And o'er the death car droops the sable plume. 
 
 Can virtue then find no triumphal arch ! 
 No trophies gather in her tardy march ? 
 Because in purple she is not arrayed, 
 Shall not her call be honored and obeyed ? 
 
 288 
 
Poems . 
 
 Ye righteous few, who, honest, pure and meek 
 Her standard follow — her encampment seek ; 
 Who vindicate her cause, profess her creed, 
 Content with Heaven's smile as your sole meed, 
 Yours are not conquests of a single day 
 Nor yours the laurels destined to decay — 
 But flowers that take not of frailty's doom 
 Shall crown the followers of virtue's plume ! 
 
 IMPROMPTU. 
 
 On hearing that Gas Ivight was introduced into a house just as an 
 intellectual lady had made it her abode. 
 
 Mrs. C. M. M. 
 
 "Two stars held not their zenith in one sphere" — 
 Thus saith old England's gifted Will Shakespeare. 
 In our blessed land quite the reverse is seen ; 
 And in full view of our college campus green 
 There Two bright lights together forth have burst — 
 So lustrous both, 'tis hard to rank the first, 
 Save that the one shines brightest far by night, 
 While from the other beams perpetual light . 
 November 22, 1848. 
 
 INVOCATION TO FROST. 
 
 October, 1854.* 
 
 Descend to us Frost, from thy place in the cloud ! 
 
 Down, down to the world, with thy heaviest fall — 
 Though many bright things might be wrapped in thy shroud, 
 
 One life in God's image is worth more than all. 
 
 No sensitive mother is Earth, to bewail 
 When her beautiful progeny passeth away — 
 
 For these have no sweet little voices to fail 
 In the midst of their mirthful and innocent play. 
 
 *Yellow Fever Scourge. 
 
 289 
 
POKMS- 
 
 The keenest of arrows are kind when compared 
 With those of the "pestilence walking abroad" — 
 
 Which shatter the hearthstone where L,ove was ensphered, 
 Alike in his highest and humblest abode. 
 
 On mute vegetation thy quiver exhaust 
 
 Strip flowery relics from Autumn's sad brow — 
 
 These trophies shall hang from the tower of Frost, 
 
 Where its shafts shall the Scourge of the South overthrow. 
 
 Oh ! touch with thy sceptre the tears of the night ! 
 
 Into icicles change them ere blushes the dawn — 
 Those glistening telegraphs gladdening the sight, 
 
 Shall tidings announce that the foe has withdrawn. 
 
 Tarry not ! lest the lingering Summer presume, 
 Beyond the due season to lengthen her reign — 
 
 For fatal is now her unnatural bloom, 
 The brilliant disguise of a feverish bane. 
 
 Ah ! many a household thy presence implored 
 From thy merciless spoiler its dear ones to save 
 
 Alas could' st thou not from thy throne be allured, 
 
 Ere the land of the stranger was pierced for his grave ? 
 
 Come now from thy palace of crystal above, 
 
 And press thy white fingers on nature's quick pulse — 
 
 That touch with its fiery throbbings remove 
 With the power and speed of electric results. 
 
 Oh ! Come to the rescue of fathers and mothers ! 
 
 Thy flakes have a virtue corruption to cleanse — 
 At once to the rescue of sisters and brothers, 
 
 Of wives and of husbands, sons, daughters and friends. 
 
 All these have been mourners — but yesterday's sorrow, 
 In joy at thy coming will suddenly vanish — 
 
 For hope shall be theirs that for many a morrow, 
 Thy great winding sheet all the evil shall banish ! 
 
 290 
 
POKMS. 
 
 IMAGINARY CONVERSATION AMONG THE 
 
 FLOWERS, 
 
 In the Garden of the Celebrated Florist, 
 j#** m***** ON THK j) AY of his Death, 
 
 November 1, 1854. 
 
 Said carnation to lily why comes not the friend 
 Who for years never failed upon us to attend ? 
 May Heaven avert from us such a disaster 
 As the loss of our kind and most excellent master ! 
 Indeed said the Iyily I like not the token 
 Of silence, so long in his chamber unbroken ; 
 There's a gloom everywhere, that I cannot define 
 A sickliness e'en in the very sunshine. 
 
 Oh ! What will become of the helpless young flowers, 
 
 Without his protection in cold wintry hours ? 
 
 To whom shall the nursery of orphans now turn 
 
 When they wake from their sleep, and for nourishment 
 yearn ? 
 
 Alas ! all will pine for that provident care, 
 
 Which for varying seasons would ever prepare ; 
 
 Bow down, oh ye blossoms ! your guardian is gone ! 
 
 No more will he greet you with smiles at the dawn. 
 
 He has left my pale stars, said the Jasmine in tears, 
 For brighter ones clust'ringin heavenly spheres ; 
 Happy they, whispered Violets born in the dale, 
 Who retreat from the world to the shadowy vale ; 
 But the Rose, whose affliction can parallel her's, 
 When the thought of his tender devotion recurs ? 
 How fondly her family e'er were carest, 
 How near to his heart had her infants found rest. 
 
 What solace his sympathy e'er had imparted, 
 To those whom the canker had left broken-hearted ! 
 What search he had made on many strange lands 
 For the choicest of all her illustrious clans — 
 And how proudly that banner would ever advance, 
 
 291 
 
Poems. 
 
 Whose folds when unfurled showed the ' 'Glory of France." 
 
 But Camelia the Indian, and Dahlia the Swede, 
 
 Seemed more than all others compassion to need, 
 
 For who would now watch o'er those beautiful strangers 
 
 In exile exposed to such various dangers ; 
 
 Like the kind foster-father by whom they were cherished 
 
 Till the sorrowful hour in which he had perished ? 
 
 From the palace of crystal, where dwelt the patricians, 
 
 To classes of plants in the lowest conditions, 
 
 A wail universal ran through the parterre, 
 
 For the Lord of the soil who reigned paramount there. 
 
 The nervous Mimosa, in great agitation, 
 
 Endeavored to check or subdue lamentation ; 
 
 He is gone, she exclaimed from this garden of ours 
 
 To one ever filled with imperishing flowers. 
 
 For us he has frequently opened the earth 
 
 A cradle to form for some bud's future birth. 
 
 For him, other hands have now broken the mould 
 
 The relics of finite existence to hold ; 
 
 But already has Mercy transplanted that germ, 
 
 Which braves the destroyer and baffles the worm ; 
 
 Immortality's germ, awhile buried in clay 
 
 But cannot like ours be touched by decay, 
 
 (A voice from the death-bed Mimosa had reached, 
 
 And the words it now uttered were those she now preached;) 
 
 Her sensitive leaflets soon after were sealed, 
 
 For blossoms bereaved were not thus to be healed. 
 
 At length the Heart's Ease thus the mourner's addresst — 
 Ah ! well may ye weep, who have lain on his breast ; 
 But what spirit like mine, among all his loved flowers, 
 Such calm could impart to his last earthly hours ? 
 'Twas my privilege there in his bosom to lie, 
 And my essence most gratefully there to apply, 
 But now let us all our best odors blend, 
 To embalm the remains of our father and friend 
 
 292 
 
POBMS. 
 
 Let flowery tribute forever be borne 
 To the grave of the guardian we honor and mourn 
 Let Forget-me-not, there its beauty expand 
 And as memory's motto for epitaph stand. 
 
 THE DATE OF MY SISTER'S BIRTH AND OF MY 
 BROTHER'S DEATH. 
 
 December 28, 1854. 
 
 Scarce can I realize, my Sister, dear, 
 
 That to threescore you have approached so near ; 
 
 It seems to me so very short a time 
 
 Since you were blooming in your summer-prime — 
 
 And though external roses lately grew 
 
 More pale than when they drank Life's morning-dew, 
 
 So free from furrows did your cheek remain, 
 
 So little tinged with Autumn's sallow stain 
 
 It seemed that Time, e'en while he stole its tint, 
 
 Had of his passing footsteps left no print \ 
 
 Nor did he lay his hand upon your head, 
 
 Its locks to interlace with silver thread. 
 
 Till Nature, tired of his long delay 
 
 Thinned the dark mass, and dappled it with gray. 
 
 Sadly you turned from your reflecting-glass, 
 
 To watch the one through which the hours pass — 
 
 Starting to find that you with ease could count 
 
 Of its remaining sands, the small amount. 
 
 Yet wherefore, my loved Sister ? not in vain 
 For you has fallen e'en a single grain — 
 And oft have you by actions kind and just 
 To golden droppings changed its heavy dust. 
 Nor has your spirit e'er been dispossesst 
 Of mortal bloom — the brightest and the best ; 
 But to the world doth sweetness still impart 
 From Nature's finest vase— a feeling heart ! 
 
 293 
 
Poems. 
 
 A double anniversary this day, 
 
 Now cheers my soul, now clouds its joyous ray, 
 
 For by capricious chequering of Fate, 
 
 It forms at once my sister's natal date, 
 
 And in the chronicle of death appears 
 
 Linked with a treasure lost in former years. 
 
 Thus, between living- and departed worth 
 
 A soul immortal, and a child of earth, 
 
 Thought is by turns in light and shadow cast — 
 
 The smiling present and the tearful past. 
 
 Oh ! may the widow's God each year increase 
 The meal of plenty, and the oil of peace ! 
 And grace divine from an exhaustless cruse 
 The blessed balm of Health fore'er effuse. 
 
 And when existence reaches its last hour, 
 May Faith, the great re-animative power, 
 Within the chamber of thy spirit lurk 
 More than Elijah's miracle to work — 
 One by which Virtue's offspring shall enjoy 
 Life without limit, and without alloy. 
 
 MEDITATION ON THE DEATH OF MY BROTHER. 
 
 Has Faith forbidden human tears to flow, 
 
 When loving souls their last farewell have spoken ? 
 
 Or Nature asked that tribute to forego, 
 When link by link her strongest chain is broken ? 
 
 Oh ! best of all That Faith to me appears, 
 Which walks with simple Nature, side by side — 
 
 Nor, on the grave when fall affliction's tears, 
 Those drops of feeling, as rebellious chide. 
 
 Welcome that Grace whose cheering "Nahamoo " 
 
 Still promising a Comforter supreme, 
 Reveals to the despairing mourner's view 
 
 Through present shadows, Mercy's future beam — 
 
 294 
 
POEMS. 
 
 Which shows the gates of Heaven opened wide 
 By angel hands, lost kindred to admit ; 
 
 By long and patient suffering sanctified, 
 In presence of their Judge benign to sit. 
 
 In holy vision I behold the last 
 
 Of those, for whose bereavement I have wept — 
 His spirit brightened by the glory cast 
 
 From Him, whose image undefiled he kept. 
 
 Oh ! blest reward, for meek endurance here 
 Of life's oppressive pains and countless woes ; 
 
 Freely to breathe in Mercy's atmosphere, 
 And find eternal and serene repose. 
 
 That meed, lamented Brother, now is thine — 
 Thine, too, the privilege with saints to sing 
 
 The praise of that beneficence divine, 
 
 Which thus removes from death its poignant sting. 
 
 Friends mourn below, but friends above rejoice 
 To see thee enter those celestial folds — 
 
 And celebrate with one united voice 
 
 Thy first birthday among immortal souls. 
 
 LINES 
 On the Fou<owing Affecting Incident: 
 
 A circumstance occurred a few days since, says the Gospel Banner, 
 at the funeral of a little babe in New Sharon, remarkably cheering 
 and suggestive. The little one, all beautifully robed for the grave, 
 was laid in the coffin on the morning of its burial. The weeping 
 friends placed in its little hand a small bouquet of flowers, among 
 which was an unopened rose-bud of the "Rose of Sharon." The lid 
 was then placed upon the coffin, and the funeral services performed. 
 
 295 
 
Poems. 
 
 When, after the lapse of not more than three hours, the coffin was 
 opened again, and the friends gathered round to look upon it for the 
 last time, that bud had become a full blown rose, while grasped in 
 the cold hand of death. 
 
 A child was lately in its coffin laid, 
 That for a season in life's sunshine played ; 
 But drooping soon, hastened from our globe, 
 To change its raiment for a cherub's robe. 
 
 But ere the little stranger left our sphere, 
 Flowers were gathered, moist with many a tear, 
 That it might carry to the spirit-land, 
 Love's parting gift within its tiny hand, 
 
 Among those blossoms, delicate and sweet, 
 
 Was one with sacred memories replete : 
 
 The Rose of Sharon — scarcely yet half blown. 
 
 (Offsprings of emigrants from Faith's old zone,) 
 
 This gave its freshest odor to the heart 
 
 Of the lost infant — it's frail counterpart, 
 
 The pastor having closed his book of prayer, 
 Kindred, for one last look, surround the bier ; 
 Ha ! what strange sight arrests the mourners' eyes, 
 Suspends their grief, and fills them with surprise ? 
 
 Oh ! will the human bud they wept as dead, 
 
 Still upon earth its fragrant essence shed ? 
 
 No ! death triumphant e'er in mortal strife, 
 
 Left it not clinging to the tree of life, 
 
 But to its very core his arrows sent, 
 
 And all its tender fibres rudely rent ; 
 
 Yet, with mock clemency, the tyrant spares 
 
 A soulless bud, whose blight would cause no tears. 
 
 Lo ! mid the dews that damp his victim's hands, 
 Sharon's young flow 'ret to a Rose expands ! 
 At once matured beneath the coffin's lid, 
 Though from all genial influences hid — 
 
 296 
 
Poems. 
 
 As if 'twere conscious that its mission high, 
 Was to embalm that pilgrim for the sky, 
 Who without blemish, from its brief sojourn, 
 Would to angelic playmates now return. 
 
 Ah ! well it might with earthly beams dispense, 
 
 For immortality's bright elements, 
 
 Which from that child while living were concealed, 
 
 Their glory to his spirit now revealed. 
 
 In their broad radiance that sweet flower bloomed 
 
 Whose predecessors had the dust perfumed, 
 
 By heavenly embassadors once trod, 
 
 When they to Man brought covenants from God. 
 
 Forever consecrated be the Rose, 
 
 That like benevolence, its cup bestows, 
 
 Filled with the purest balm, for those who dwell, 
 
 Within mortality's most gloomy cell. 
 
 ON THE DEATH OF A NIECE. 
 
 Mrs. c******* M. C****. 
 
 "All's well," proclaimed the Angel of the Spring 
 When first she heard the birds and poets sing 
 A long farewell to Winter's dreary reign 
 And hail her presence in the world again. 
 But why droops yonder minstrel's hoary head 
 While on her silent lyre tears are shed ? 
 Or why when all in festal robes appear 
 Does she the sackcloth of the mourner wear. 
 And ashes strew upon her silvered hair ? 
 Tell me I pray thee why that harp is mute 
 Once foremost April's advent to salute ? 
 First to bring tribute to those vernal powers 
 That bless the thirsting earth with genial showers, 
 
 297 
 
Poems. 
 
 "Queen of the seasons ! can'st thou say 'all's well,' " 
 
 Replied the bard, "while tolls the funeral knell 
 
 Of one who in her springtime might compare 
 
 With thy own lovely rose, in beauty rare ? 
 
 That gifted one who in melodious song 
 
 Rivalled the sweetest of thy feathered throng 
 
 Oh ! how can Nature so serenely smile, 
 
 When a fond mother, free from earthly guile 
 
 One like herself, most tender and benign 
 
 Must now her children's guardianship resign. 
 
 And leave affection's glowing precincts here 
 
 To dwell alone in death's cold atmosphere." 
 
 The pitying spirit heard this plaint of love 
 
 And sought the sting of sorrow to remove. 
 
 "Thou art indeed bereaved — yet raise thy head 
 
 Vain is affliction for the righteous dead 
 
 Doubt not that Nature's sympathies are stirred 
 
 When worth's true models are to dust transferred 
 
 Her smile was only a reflected light 
 
 From thy friend's soul, that in its upward flight 
 
 Revealed when from the mists of earth set free 
 
 The first bright beams of immortality. 
 
 And when it soared to Heaven's golden gate 
 
 Opened by Angels for their future mate, 
 
 A glory visible to Faith's clear eye. 
 
 A radiance caught from the rejoicing sky 
 
 Then marked her entrance into Mercy's sphere 
 
 And blissful meeting with lost kindred there. 
 
 A token to beloved ones left below 
 
 That virtue's meed repays all mortal woe." 
 
 Now gentle spring returning to her bowers 
 
 Entered the nursery of sleeping flowers, 
 
 And lifting each young blossom from its bed 
 
 With balmy dew anointed its fair head. 
 
 Away the wondering innocents she leads 
 
 And with her gift to weeping friendship speeds 
 
 298 
 
Poems. 
 
 Whom thus in faltering accents she addrest 
 Oh ! take these lilies pure— my choicest, best 
 With these my pale and blushing roses, braid 
 The violet meek— humility's hand maid. 
 And take this blossom found in memory's grot 
 This floral souvenir — ' 'Forget-me-not" 
 Others less beautiful thou wilt not slight 
 But in one bond harmonious all unite, 
 A single chord from thy own harp remove 
 And let it be to them a link of love. 
 This simple tribute gratefully I bring 
 For her who never failed to welcome spring 
 Who oft to me the sweetest incense brought 
 The bloom and perfume of poetic thought, 
 These to her last home, I with her would send 
 Their odorous ashes with her dust to blend. 
 Together grouped the peerless blossoms lay, 
 Yielding their fragrance to the lifeless clay— 
 Buds from the cradle to the coffin borne 
 Like orphans, their lost parents seemed to mourn, 
 Whilst full blown flowers on the lid repose 
 Soon their brief lives upon her bier to close, 
 Embalming one who might with justice claim 
 The purest wreath of friendship and of fame. 
 
 AN ALPHABET OF AUTHORS, 
 
 Written as an Exercise for the Pupils of Miss Jac- 
 queline Levy's School, by an Old Contributor. 
 
 A stands for Addison — famous Spectator, 
 Of all that occurred on the world's great Theatre. 
 B stands for Barbauld, who well may be styled, 
 The familiar instructress and friend of each child. 
 C stands for Crabbe, who so feelingly talks, 
 
 299 
 
Poems- 
 
 Of all that transpires, in life's humblest walks. 
 
 D stands for Dickens — an author so genial, 
 
 That by turns he delights both the mighty and menial. 
 
 K stands for Evans— two bearing the name, 
 
 High as Novelists rank in the records of fame. 
 
 F for Fenelon stands, ever renowned 
 
 For the graces of style in Telemachus found. 
 
 G stands for Goldsmith— of whom 'tis asserted, 
 
 That "Village" (poetic) will ne'er be deserted. 
 
 H stands for Hemans, whose sensitive muse, 
 
 With tears every flower of fancy bedews. 
 
 I stands for Irving, whose Sketch Book is placed, 
 
 Among the best models of classical taste. 
 
 J stands for Johnson — immortal become, 
 
 Since Boswell the dauntless, invaded his home. 
 
 K stands for Knowles — in whose Hunchback is shown, 
 
 How for physical blight, moral worth may atone. 
 
 I, stands for Lamb — unto whom we are debtors, 
 
 For his exquisite Klia and humorous letters. 
 
 M stands for Milman to decide it is hard, 
 
 Whether most he excels, as Historian or bard. 
 
 N stands for Norton of Sheridan's race, 
 
 In whom we his talent, transmitted may trace. 
 
 O for Owenson stands, whose "Wild Irish Girl," 
 
 Among gems of fiction was prized as a pearl. 
 
 P stands for Porter — whose "Scottish Chiefs" first, 
 
 A taste for Historical romances nursed. 
 
 Quack enbos, and Quintilian may stand for the Q, 
 
 The one known to many — the latter to few. 
 
 R stands for Rame, — alas ! for the gifted, 
 
 Who from modesty's course, so widely has drifted. 
 
 S stands for Smith, Sydney, Horace, and James, 
 
 Bach for wit a large share of celebrity claims; 
 
 T stands for Tobin, whose Honey-moon rare, 
 
 Undimmed still remains, in the Thespian sphere. 
 
 U stands for Uhland — a fine German poet, 
 
 300 
 
Poems. 
 
 Whose ballad the "Rose and the Minstrel" will show it, 
 
 V stands for Voltaire — Ah ! what wrote he not, 
 But his works are defiled, by the infidel's blot. 
 W for Wilson now boldly stands forth, 
 
 Whose alias is Blackwood, or Christopher North. 
 X stands for Xerxes, who took the odd notion, 
 Of whipping the waves and of chaining the Ocean. 
 
 Y stands for Young — whose Night Thoughts are cast, 
 In a mould of sublimity seldom surpassed. 
 
 Z stands for Zimmerman — let none intrude, 
 On him who so charmingly paints solitude. 
 
 LINES ADDRESSED TO A SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 Who in the calendar of Saints, shall hold 
 
 Pre-eminence above that living one, 
 Who with a fragile form, but spirit bold, 
 
 Compels e'en Death full oft, her walks to shun ? 
 
 Perhaps some great convulsion of the heart 
 Ruined the hopes she once half realized — 
 
 And now from worldly joys she stands apart, 
 Wondering their hollow promise e'er was prized. 
 
 Had she wedded love her vows addrest, 
 
 One selfish aim had all her thoughts engrossed ; 
 
 Now, in the uniform of Mercy drest, 
 
 Bravely she takes her stand at danger's post. 
 
 Throw back thy hood — there is a holy beauty 
 
 Expressive of thy ministry divine, 
 In features rendered pale by rigid duty, 
 
 Thou meek cup-bearer of Hope's balmy wine ! 
 
 Thy form is slightly curved — for it is bent 
 By day and night, over the couch of pain ; 
 
 Thine eye is dim — its lustre hath been spent 
 In vigils held on Charity's domain. 
 
 301 
 
Poems. 
 
 Thou hast an angel's comeliness, to those 
 
 Whom from thy hand the healing draught receive ; 
 
 Whom, by thy loss of rest, gain their repose, 
 And health through that blest sacrifice retrieve. 
 
 Aye, in Heaven's gallery of grace, 
 
 Thou in the brightest setting wilt appear — 
 
 God's image manifested in that face 
 
 Which beamed benignly on his creatures here. 
 
 Thy prayer is for the stranger — so is mine ! 
 
 For thee and all thy Sisterhood. I pray 
 Earth's sovereign to renew that wondrous sign, 
 
 Which once arrested time, and checked decay. 
 
 So that when Death shall to his chambers call 
 Ye who to misery's wards humanely throng, — 
 
 Back from life's dial may the shadow fall, 
 And Providence your pilgrimage prolong. 
 
 SONG OF THE MOSQUITO. 
 
 I came with the beautiful blossoms of June, 
 
 My flight radiated by Summer's broad moon ; 
 
 I came when the nightingale's warblings were heard, 
 
 And the heart of the rose was by melody stirred. 
 
 But I envy him neither his lay or his love — 
 
 To the penile pavilion I joyously rove. 
 
 In vain cautious beauty her curtain suspends 
 
 Where taste with utility gracefully blends ; 
 
 Her throne of repose if she wishes to reach, 
 
 The net- work is raised, and I rush through the breach, 
 
 Forgetting their gentleness e'er and anon, 
 
 The ladies will strike at my tire-de-bouchon. 
 
 In revenge for assaults such as these, I but linger 
 
 A minute or two upon brow, cheek or finger ; 
 
 302 
 
Poems. 
 
 And ere I depart, there deposit a cluster 
 
 Of little Cornelians unmatched in their lustre. 
 
 Away with the vintage of France or Madeira, 
 
 The wine that I quaff is both brighter and rarer ; 
 
 Away with your hydromel, cider and perry, 
 
 The famed leaf of China, and Mocha's green berry : 
 
 With each sort of beverage sipped since the fall — 
 
 My vein-distilled nectar surpasses them all ! 
 
 The heart is its cellar, from which it is poured 
 
 Into delicate vessels, by nature the steward ; 
 
 'Till time, who to temperance lends approbation, 
 
 Strikes them all with his scythe, and arrests circulation, 
 
 The hero, the statesman, divine, and civilian, 
 
 Acknowledge my power within the pavilion : 
 
 More restless than dreams of ambition can make them 
 
 Are they when my song or by sting I awake them. 
 
 But volumes far more than by Omar were burnt, 
 
 Must be written ere all my achievements are learnt, 
 
 You place upon farther self -plaudits your veto, 
 
 And cry prithee drop now the petty mosquito. 
 
 A PEEP INTO A SCHOOL ROOM. 
 
 Schools, academies and seminaries, 
 
 Although in name, each from the other varies, 
 
 Are cages all — where human birds remain, 
 
 And oft their feeble faculties o'erstrain, 
 
 Slowly to gather up, small scraps of learning 
 
 While they for pastimes, and for toys are yearning. 
 
 We enter one of these — a curtsey drop, 
 
 For this is education's own workshop ; 
 
 Trusting we trespass not against its rules, 
 
 Some notice here we take of several tools. 
 
 Behold of books, a formidable band, 
 
 That side by side, like dwarfs and giants stand, 
 
 303 
 
Poems. 
 
 Primers that suit young minds in their first leaf, 
 
 With pictures plentiful, and lessons brief. 
 
 Readers — a literary pic-nic treat, 
 
 At which in their best dresses Authors meet, 
 
 History, a chronicle of crime, 
 
 Cain's brand, still lingering on the brow of Time, 
 
 Geography, in which a child's weak brain, 
 
 Must like old Atlas, a whole world sustain. 
 
 Grammar, that e'en when simplified by Smith, 
 
 Must to young students, e'er remain a myth. 
 
 Arithmetic — foe to the scholar's slumbers, 
 
 Whose ghastly Nightmare takes the shape of numbers, 
 
 Philosophy, that in its brightest phase, 
 
 No charm to lad or lassie e'er displays. 
 
 Astronomy — Ah ! e'en God's noblest creatures, 
 
 On this grand text, at best, are but blind preachers. 
 
 Botany — yes ! plants to children speak, 
 
 But call not flowers by I^atin names, or Greek, 
 
 •A? <t« +A, vl» *T* vL* *.!-» 
 
 *^ *J* *^ *J» »-J* *J* *-^ 
 
 At what conclusion then do I arrive ? 
 
 Must youth no thought, or time to knowledge give ? 
 
 Yes — but I'd have each mental engineer, 
 
 Of the high-pressure system to beware ! 
 
 Nor of the memory a freight car make. 
 
 Such loads of useless articles to take 
 
 Lest swaying neath their weight, 'tis found at last, 
 
 A shattered wreck upon life's highway cast. 
 
 A MOTHER'S GRIEF. 
 
 Silence, we stand in presence of the dead ! 
 A Mother's hand is laid on that young head, 
 Where still a lingering warmth her touch deceives, 
 Embers, that fever in its furnace leaves 
 Inspiring the vain hope that vital heat 
 Its glow will yet rekindle in life's seat. 
 
 304 
 
Poems . 
 
 The truth has flashed upon her mind at last, 
 
 Into the vale of shadows, death has cast 
 
 One household jewel of that precious set 
 
 By nature locked in her heart's cabinet, 
 
 Selecting e'er for his own diadem 
 
 Some pearl of love — some priceless bosom gem. 
 
 Alas ! for widowed mothers, so bereaved, 
 Of Treasures never more to be retrieved, 
 Oh ! . what is worldly poverty to those 
 Thus doomed the choicest gifts of God to lose, 
 In bitter anguish comes the parent's cry — 
 "Oh ! why for thee, my son, could I not die." 
 
 Though often Hope to me had falsely spoken 
 Oft in departed years her promise broken 
 Yet had she power to delude my sense 
 With pictures of a mother's recompense — 
 Where as the guardian of my grey hairs, thou 
 Nobly performed thy pious filial vow 
 Gently to lead me through life's rugged road 
 Nor suffer me to bear its lightest load. 
 There wert thou, on virtue's proudest height 
 A shining mark— a moral beacon-light — . 
 
 Sower in youth, of fortune's golden seed, 
 Reaper in age of honor's highest meed. 
 Thus brightly outlined was thy future lot 
 Oh ! how could fate, so fair a prospect blot, 
 And destine thee in manhood's early bloom 
 To leave the light of home, for the dark tomb?" , 
 
 Ye kind Samaritan who turns aside,; " * 
 Wine for the wounded spirit to provide'/ *" 
 Waste not on one so crushed your 'tender 1 zeal 
 Which e'en the balm of friendship cannot heal 
 The only solace now my sorrows crave 
 Is but to wander to my child's lone grave 
 
 305 
 
Poems. 
 
 All nature there, in sympathy will weep 
 Whilst o'er my buried flower watch I'll keep 
 For into dust those blossoms have returned 
 That briefly in her summer tent sojourned. 
 
 That consecrated garden will I seek 
 Upon whose hallowed silence none may break, 
 Save gentle Faith — who in an angel's guise 
 To mourners brings a message from the skies 
 Glad tidings that their loved and early lost 
 In glory robed, have joined the heavenly host. 
 And warns them ne'er her covenant to break 
 But in meek spirit Mercy's chastening take 
 Lest they those links of blest re-union sever 
 That soul to soul in heaven bind forever. 
 
 FROZEN MUSIC. 
 
 I have often heard of Frozen Music, and as often doubted 
 the possibility of its existence. Not long since an aged 
 pilgrim, standing near the Valley of the Shadow of Death, 
 heard certain melodious sounds, in which she recognized a 
 prelude, frequently played by the spirit of Peace, oh com- 
 mencing her Overture. Eagerly she listened to the cheer- 
 ing strain, when suddenly some freezing element inter- 
 cepted it on its way to her heart, in which there was a 
 responsive chord and congealed it into silence. This then 
 was Frozen Music. Alas ! was it the shadow of Pride that 
 so clouded and chilled the genial atmosphere of Peace, as 
 to cause her to suspend that sweet minstrelsy ? Saddened 
 by this circumstance, the old wayfarer fell into a train of 
 thought, the drift of which may be found in the following 
 meditation. Ah ! Why is it that memory whose records 
 should be made with a pen plucked from the wing of an 
 Angel, should rather choose to register the sayings and 
 doings of the past with so trenchant an implement as to 
 
 306 
 
Poems . 
 
 render them indelible? And wherefore is it that such 
 frail mortals as we are should turn from the counsels of 
 Nature, and benignant Faith, to follow the bitter sugges- 
 tions of their Antagonist. 
 
 LINES 
 
 Addressed to my Dear Niece J. E. L — y, on Her 
 
 Birthday. 
 
 Oh ] that some gem of thought were mine, 
 
 Some brilliant jewel of the brain, 
 Lustre to shed on every line, 
 
 Of this my tributary strain ; 
 No other aid would I then need, 
 
 To show how much thy worth is prized, 
 For then thy merit and its mead, 
 
 By fortune would be equalized — 
 Or that some fairy would appear, 
 
 With gift like that on one bestowed, 
 In recompense of kindly care : 
 
 When speech in pearls, and diamonds flowed. 
 Yet must the timid minstrel bring, 
 
 An offering on this joyous day — 
 Once more a winter blossom fling, 
 
 The last I may before thee lay. 
 Upon a harp of magic mould, 
 
 His rugged hand cold Saturn lays, 
 Before him several scores enrolled. 
 
 Point out the number of man's days. 
 But only once in every year, 
 
 Its chords will to his touch vibrate, 
 And from the cradle to the bier, 
 
 Birth-days alone will celebrate. 
 A new string added to his lyre, 
 
 Denotes that thou art sixty-five. 
 
 307 
 
Poems. 
 
 Glory to God, our Heavenly sire, 
 
 From whom all blessings we derive. 
 The choicest gift of grace divine, 
 
 Thy precious self do I esteem, 
 By mercy sent in my decline, 
 
 Whilst drifting on life's ebbing stream 
 A daughter's place within my heart, 
 
 My sister's only child e'er claimed, 
 And I to act a mother's part. 
 
 Most fondly, fervently, have aimed. 
 Should I e'er reach the angel's home, 
 
 I'd supplicate the God of Love, 
 Thy guardian spirit to become, 
 
 Thy guide to realms of bliss above. 
 
 A GEOGRAPHICAL ALPHABET. 
 
 A stands for Alsace — a famous old place 
 
 That Prussia would in its dominions embrace. 
 B stands for Brussels, — in which we may trace, 
 
 A city renowned for its carpets and lace. 
 C brings to view California the rich 
 
 Where many gold-diggers their tents often pitch. 
 D stands for Denmark — a fine northern land, 
 
 Whose monarchs o'er Britain once held brief command. 
 K stands for England — whose John, tho' a Tartar t 
 
 Was forced by his nobles to sign Magna Charta. 
 F stands for France — whose old name of GauL 
 
 Best accords with the bitterness felt in its fall. 
 G stands for Germany — Lord of the Rhine, 
 
 On whose Castles, Confederate flags now entwine. 
 H stands for Holland — whose dyke and Van Dyke 
 
 Never fail the attention of travellers to strike. 
 I stands for Italy, — classical soil 
 
 Now to bigotry's spirit, a prey and a spoil. 
 
 308 
 
Poems. 
 
 J for Japan, —whose knowledge of arts 
 
 Though scant, to their wares — a rare polish imparts. 
 K stands for Kamschatka — a region remote 
 
 Whose natives their time to Bear Hunting devote. 
 L stands for L,apland, — whose lot has been brightened 
 
 Since learning's first beams their rude dwellings enlight- 
 ened. 
 M for Mauritius — that fair Isle of France, 
 
 Where St. Pierre witnessed Paul and Virginia's romance. 
 N stands for Naples — whose glorious bay 
 
 The sun photographs in most gorgeous array. 
 O stands for Orleans, — in tears Histr'y steeps 
 
 The page which the record of Joan of Arc keeps. 
 P stands for Poland, — more cruel than Nero's, 
 
 Were the deeds that have blighted that birthplace of 
 heroes. 
 Q for Quebec, — upon whose battle ground, 
 
 Gallant Wolfe was with laurels of victory crowned. 
 R stands for Russia — whose czar celebrated, 
 
 A poor peasant girl to his throne elevated. 
 S stands for Switzerland's mountainous land 
 
 Where Tell against tyranny made a bold stand. 
 T stands for Turkey,— so full of Kiosks, 
 
 Of Musselmen, Minarets, Muftis and Mosques. 
 U stands for Utah— where Mormons abide 
 
 Who the laws of a civilized wedlock deride. 
 
 V for Verona, — where a tomb among roses 
 
 Shows the spot where young Romeo with Juliet resposes. 
 W stands for Warsaw — wrapt in liberty's pall, 
 
 Kosciosko, her Champion, was here seen to fall. 
 X for Xeres or Sherry — a town of old Spain 
 
 Whence a wine of rich flavor our merchants obtain. 
 
 Y stands for Yarmouth — whose great herring trade 
 And salubrious waters its fortune has made. 
 
 Z stands for Zurich — whose beautiful lake 
 The picturesque form of a crescent doth take. 
 
 309 
 
Poems. 
 "THE MINSTREL'S PROPHECY." 
 
 The title of ' 'Howards' ' used in the following lines, is not applied 
 to any special association, but includes those benevolent volunteers 
 of both sexes who kindly and actively devoted themselves to the 
 service of the sick and poor, during the prevalence of Yellow Fever 
 in our city. 
 
 Radiant in beauty, came the Summer queen, 
 In whom the graces of the Spring were seen 
 
 Developed to perfection's highest power, 
 And bringing with her an imperial dower. 
 
 The poets, mourning for departed May- 
 Refused their laurels at her feet to lay — 
 
 Resolving in full meeting of their choir, 
 
 That each should on the willow hang his lyre-, 
 
 Till they again the vernal nymph discern, 
 Gracefully rising from her transient urn. 
 
 But Nature on the lyric rebels frowned, 
 
 And bade them greet the sovereign newly crowned. 
 On penalty of forfeiting the bays, 
 
 Won on their favorite's coronation-days. 
 "Disloyal bards ! (the angry matron cried) 
 
 Shall homage to that spirit be denied, 
 Whose glowing beam alone with luscious fruit 
 
 The wasted horn of plenty can recruit ? 
 Who more than all the regents of the year, 
 
 Deserves the triple-coronet to wear ; 
 Since to the world, most freely she presents 
 
 Proofs of a provident beneficence — 
 Yet, while her praise rings from a Thompson's lute, 
 
 Your meaner harps, remain perversely mute." 
 
 One minstrel then, an elder of his tribe, 
 
 Whom menace ne'er could daunt, nor flattery bribe, 
 
 Responding under sanction of the rest, 
 The parent of all seasons, thus addrest : 
 
 "It grieves us much, that Nature has appealed 
 For one, to whom we can no tribute yield. 
 
 310 
 
Poems. 
 
 Frankly we own her fertilizing powers, 
 
 Her genial elements, and golden hours — 
 That choicer banquets, she for Man disposes 
 
 Than Spring, who offers but a feast of roses — 
 But Memory that still the cypress wears, 
 
 As an accusing angel, now appears : 
 And as she walks among Death's glassy hills, 
 
 Whose marble alters Summer chiefly builds, 
 Asks if the gifts and glories of her reign, 
 
 Will compensate us, for our kindred slain. 
 
 Prophetic powers, second this appeal, 
 
 And to my eyes, prospectively reveal 
 The Tropic fiend that from its yellow wings, 
 
 Poison as dewdrops, on our pathway flings. 
 Not distant far, that spoiler I perceive, 
 
 And mark the household wrecks it soon will leave. 
 
 In perches upon luxury's proud roof — 
 
 What architect could make it fever-proof ? 
 To poverty's rude cabin it repairs, 
 
 And to a narrower home, its victim bears, 
 Alike the needy, and the rich it scorns, 
 
 Who sleep on beds of roses, or of thorns. 
 Nor sex, nor age, nor station, does it heed 
 
 But e'er delights on random-prey to feed. 
 
 Now, from the cradle (love's own Flower-vase) 
 It takes the bud, Hope promised once to raise — 
 
 Now, from the desk, 'mid scenes of worldly strife, 
 Strikes manhood down, and blots the Book of Life. 
 
 Ah ! now I see it, from the braided hair 
 
 Of a young bride the orange-blossoms tear — 
 
 Without a touch of pity, or remorse, 
 
 To cast their withered relics on her corpse ! 
 
 Lo ! where it hovers o'er an old arm-chair, 
 To seize the veteran, calmly waiting there, 
 
 311 
 
Poems. 
 
 Till Nature's gentle stroke should cleave the cord, 
 That kept his spirit, parted from its Lord. 
 
 It spares not e'en Religion's holy seat — 
 
 The pastor, who but late did Heaven entreat 
 
 To rescue friends, and strangers from its grasp, 
 Breathes his last prayer, within its burning clasp. 
 
 The Minstrel paused— no farther could he go 
 In these foreshadowings, of human woe. 
 
 Was it the trickery of a morbid mind, 
 
 That darkly thus, the Future had outlined ? 
 
 Answer, ye Howards ! answer one and all, 
 
 Whose hearts responded nobly to the call 
 Made by philanthropy in Heaven's name, 
 
 Your time, your treasure, and your tears to claim, 
 Say, if the "Minstrel's Prophecy" ye deem 
 
 Nought but imagination's troubled dream — 
 Or, if that vision's fearful gloom at last 
 
 Was not by sad reality surpast. 
 
 A THOUGHT. 
 
 One cannot think of one's own existence, without think- 
 ing of the eternal author of it. It is true we can have no 
 adequate idea of the attributes of a being so infinitely 
 superior to us ; but according to the best notions which we 
 are capable of forming of his justice and mercy the latter 
 seems necessarily to preponderate in the scale. 
 
 A FAREWELL MESSAGE TO ALL FRIENDS. 
 
 Old, blind and poor, Penina Moise, in her 83rd year, addressed her 
 last poem to all her "dear relatives and friends in acknowledgment 
 of their unremitting kindness :" 
 
 Long past the allotted term of mortal years, 
 My soul, a captive in the vale of tears, 
 Flutters its wings, to shake the dust away, 
 
 312 
 
Poems. 
 
 Contracted in its narrow cage of clay ; 
 
 Conscious the hour of freedom is at hand, 
 
 When it will soar to Faith's own fatherland, 
 
 By mercy there with manna to be fed, 
 
 Gathered by angels for their daily bread, 
 
 And with ''the just made perfect" ever shared, 
 
 Whose deeds on earth, their souls for heaven prepared. 
 
 Such is at least the promise Hope has made, 
 
 In dreams where Paradise is oft portrayed 
 
 As a more glorious Eden than the first, 
 
 Where life's most tragic drama was rehearsed. 
 
 But why should I not wish to linger here ? 
 
 Do I not dwell in Friendship's atmosphere ? 
 
 Where generous souls such balmy tribute bring, 
 
 As makes my wintry age so like to spring 
 
 That scarce the blind recluse, amid its snows, 
 
 Detects the absence of the vernal rose. 
 
 Scant in the hour-glass of Time are now 
 The sands symbolic of life's measured flow, 
 But ere the few that still remain shall fall, 
 On thee, long slumbering muse, for aid I call, 
 Through inspiration's golden medium, yet 
 In part to cancel gratitude's just debt. 
 Vain hope ! that such poor coinage could repay 
 The sterling gifts received from day to day . 
 To Heaven for requital I commend 
 My kindred dear, and many a faithful friend, 
 Praying through future years they may enjoy, 
 Health, peace and happiness without alloy. 
 
 Praise to my young associates who delight 
 
 To be as 'twere to me a second sight , 
 
 Through which alone I may again behold, 
 
 Flowers and gems of intellectual mould, 
 
 Whose gentle ministry, with soothing power, 
 
 Brightens my spirit in its cloudiest hour, 
 
 Till e'en through darkened vision it perceives 
 
 The silver interlining Mercy weaves. 
 
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