.0 OA ¥ ' > ,0 "-*>s^ '■<<■ ../• f .^^ ♦ 'o. o^ ^■r:#v A^^ <\ ' , ,v ■* .A b 0^ ■•" aQ A-' ^^ ^ V^^' -".r. •"■■S' K^- ' Myk ' '% '>■ / ■' \~:x ^vs .^•■^: •\d' -x^ CO' ■'^o ^ ^ -r^ .,. ^y .^• Engrswed. by J O B-altre. SKETCHES OP LIFE Af(D LA^fDSCAPE. BY REV. RALPH II Y T , A. M. NEW YORK : A. D. F. R A X D L P 11, G S 3 B R A D TT A Y. LONDON : IT A L L, V 1 R T U E, & C O. 2 5 P A T E R X O S T E R - R W. 186 2. -^^ ^o CONTENTS. True Life, 9 Julia, 35 Edward Bell, . 43 Sxow, 51 To Mary, 5? 5? World-Sale, ,^ ^^ Old, 71 New, 79 Eaix, 89 Shower, . • ', 95 Outalissa, 97 Blacksmith's Night, ...* 107 Angel, . . . . 115 "Where,. . . . ; • 120 Sue, • . . 125 Return, 128 Shadow, 131 d O'er the ITill, 133 Bible, .... 135 Peril, ^ lZ7\ CONTEXTS. Laura, 141 Last Vendue, • . 145 The Two Croakers, lo-l-i? Crystal Palace, . 15/"^ Pledgers' "War, ]^ 1^0 .Aiiisj^r^ 10/3 Flute, 1GB 5^ Birth-Day, ic/b Oui to bait (e ' •' . /^f THE TEUE LIFE; A REVERIE: IN THREE CANTOS I. On dusky wing now niglit comes gently clown; Dissolves the landscape in a vapory gray ; The monarch hills resign their sunset crown, Slow droop the eyelids of the drowsy day ; All weary life, anJ every heart oppressed, In soothing slumber now may sink to rest : Save, I must vigil while all nature sleeps ; Not self-devoted, but ordained to be A poor way-furer o'er life's rugged steeps, Its sternest aspects fated still to see. To taste its bitter draughts at many a brim, And chant withal earth's earnest, awful hymn 9 TRUE LITE. Thou tliat hast tuned my reecl, if tuned it be, If this high prayer to such low dust belongs Ineffable Inspirer ! speak to me. That I sing not an inharmonious song. Speak to me, trembling in thy glory's blaze, That chanting Life, withal I chant thy praise. This earth-strung harp but teaches me to weep. Furrows my aching brow before its time ; ! give me now the lyre that I shall sweep Upon the hills of yon celestial clime : God ! make my spirit like a surging sea. Rolling its thundering anthems up to Thee ! Such scope I covet — fitly to adore ! Such scope, the import of my theme to scan ? Ocean of Life ! no swimmer finds a shore ; Unfathomable mystery of Man ! So vast, so various, whence, or whither, all Shrouded in secrecy as with a pall ! Dread dissonance of earth ! each life a note Swelling the mighty uproar tempest high ; Harmonious voices few, and too remote To temper the wi fd clamor of the sky ; ! for a plunge that ocean to explore ! O ! for a wing that chaos to outsoar ! 10 TRUE LIFE Give me to love my fellow, and in love. If with none other grace, to chant my strain. Sweet key-note of soft cadences above, Sole star of solace in life's night of pain, Chief gem of Eden, fractured in that fall That ruined two fond hearts, and tarnished all ! Redeemer ! be thy kindly spirit mine ; That pearl of paradise to me restore. Pure, fervent, fearless, lasting love, divine, Profomid as ocean, broad as sea and shore. While Man I sing, free, subject, and supreme, ! for a soul as ample as the theme ! Sad prelude I have sung, by Sorrow led Along the mournful shades that own her sway, Where, by a stream that weeping eyes have shed. Low chanted I my melancholy lay. In pensive concord with the sootheless wail Of sighing wanderers in that lonely vale. Ah, chide not those whose wo is hard to bear, The heart must hover where its treasures sleep, I saw the great, the wise, the gifted there, With humbler multitudes compelled to weep ; No penury, no wealth commands relief. No serf, no sovereign in the realms of grief I 11 TliUE LIFE. Equality of ^\o ! a for.m tliere sate. With regal diadem upon his brow. But all the glory of imperial stat 3 Could not console that aching bosom now ; Dcatli in his palace a dread summons spoke, And the stout heart of the proud monarch broke ! Unheeding such high presence, the bereaved Of lowlier name, despondinglj around. In silent anguish, or sad accents grieved, Or sternly smiled in agony profound ; So ecjual poor humanity appears In the humiliating vale of tears ! Stern lesson ! — ^yet much profit to the soul : Good to be taught the nothingness of pride ; To free the spirit from earth's strong control, And on the sea of sorrow hea\ enward glide. Humility ! the burthened heart's release ; Who enters that low portal findeth peace. Not fair Avoca's deep sequestered dell Such sweet serenity and rest bestows ; Nor winding Arno's bowery banks can tell The weary traveller of such repose A.S soothes the soul in that dim shadowy glen, Where miglity monarchs own themselves but men- 12 TRUE LIFE. Hears now th^ loitering muse a stern demand ; Why thus so long these dreary shades among 1 Sad dirges sighing of the spirit-land ; Humanity's grand lyric all unsung. Arise, and with heroic strength be strongs And chime thy numbers in a worthier song t Vain importunity, and counsel vain ; Not mine to follow fancy's airy flight ; Earth's faithful annals must record its pain : Yet, oft the sun may gild the storm with light ; And hope, that makes the gloom of sorrow glow. On showering tears may paint life's brightest bow. As some poor mariner adrift at sea. When ruthless storms have driven his bark a-wreck. Climbing his riven mast in agony, The sole survivor of a crowded deck. Sees, as he clambers upward, sad and slow. The dark horizon widening on his wo ; So, as I climb my splintered spar of life. The dreary desolation still expands ; Float by, betokening the mighty strife. Rude fragments fiom all ages and all lands ; And mournful voices answer to my soul. As far along the roaring surge they roll. 1.^ TRUE LIFE. Each billow wears some diadem uncla.'med, Or sceptre wrested from some regal hand ; Brave palaces, and castles, all unnamed, Yet once the glory of some miglitj land ; The costliest baubles of a royal dream, Gone like a leaf upon a rushing stream. There, rushing headlong, with portentous speed. With faded banners and strange tokens dight, Its destiny fulfilling as decreed. Its crescent wanino- into utter nio-ht. Dismembered, shrouded in a rayless gloom. The Prophet's empire hurries to its doom ! There, gone forever, o'er the heaving deep A mighty fabric plunges on amain, Stern warrior ghosts a bootless vigil keep. In sanguine fields o'er ghastly heaps of slain ; That realm where wide the conqueror's eagles flew, Gone with the battle-smoke of Waterloo ! How humbled haughtiness, how calmed all rage : Helmet, and lance, and shield, and brazen mail. There fill for chivalry its final page. As down the current gloomily they sail, The same irrevocable doom to read. With Goth, and Roman, Hebrew, Greek, and Mede ! 1^ TRUE LIFE. Old Nineveh, of great Aturian Phul, Ecbat'na, Babylon, and Tyre remote, Menuf, and Meroe, that in the dull Far-distant verge of mythic ages float, Careering still upon their fated way, And, mote by mote, still crumbling in decay. Great shrines of Phtha, and hundred-gated walls. The pillared temples where old bactrians knelt, The chiseled marble of imperial halls, Where Pharoes, Ptolemies, and Cesars dwelt. Strong fanes of luve piled to meet the sky. Deep in the dust of perished empires lie. There swoops in awful solitude sublime, The shattered remnant of the elder world, Like some primeval orb, unknown to time. Through the wild realm of chaos helmless hurled : On, on, forever ! rushing o'er the wave, A rebel skeleton denied a grave ! Dark, silent, desolate, an outcast globe Blasted beneath the sin-abhorring frown ; Shorn of the sunbeam, and the verdant robe, In an unbounded deluge still to drown ! Imponderable ruin ! can it be The morning stars sang sweetly once, for theo ! 15 TRUE LIFE. Dread Shape ! In terror though constrained I gaze. The shadows of old ages roll away ; The Past is present, and the first of days Pours brightly down its new-created ray ; Dim, mystic visions aggregate apace, And primal earth stands out august in space ! How wonderful ! Jehovah deigned to will. And this Creation with obedient awe Came booming forth the mandate to fulfil ; From darkness, glory ; from disorder, law. So pure, so beautiful, so formed for love, It might allure the angels from above I I can no more I My struggling pulse beats high, Oppressive thought overwhelms my weary sense, Absorbed in too much grief, I cannot sigh. Nor vent the agony that, too intense To flow in liquid anguish, doth corrode, And canker where it hath its seared abode. Then hush, my lyre ; my mournful muse, adieu ' Day breaks and calls me to its toilsome din ; Farewell ye mighty visions ! but for you. Spirits of all my dead, too deep within My soul's shut sanctuary ye abide, To be submerged in life's oblivious tide. 16 THE TRUE LIFE; A REVERIE II. now changeful and how fleet the things of earth ; But yester' the fair season of sweet flowers, Breathing its odorous beauties into birth, With jessamine and roses twined the bowers ; But soon that time of bud and bloom was o'er, And summer glowed, where spring had smiled before Summer ! gay, golden summer ! Lo, the fields, Flushed with the wealth that Industry hath won ; Blithely the swain his sweeping sickle wields, And binds his heavy sheaves. September's sun Tinges the clusters on the bending bough. And autumn holds a brief dominion now. 17 TRUE LIFE And now His winter ! so tlie moments roll That wear out life in fanciful disguise, And show full oft a winter in the soul, Blight on its blossoms, gloom upon its skies ; The cherished buds of hope unblown depart, And strew their leaves all withered on the heart. Nor Flora's beauty, nor her sweet perfume, O'er hills, and vales, and woodlands, can restore The blighted tree of Life its eden bloom ; It cannot see the sun it saw before, It cannot the decaying stem renew. Dead, in the wintry garden where it grew ! Serenest spirit of the hallowed lyre. Sweet soother of all sorrow, come to me ; My burdened thought with utterance inspire : ■ Sad harp of mme, thy saddest minstrelsie, I here would fling upon the chilling wind. Chanting unto the dead ! Ah, how we bind The memory of each departed joy Close to our bleeding bosoms, till we feel The past our only good, the earth a toy With all its present charms. let me steal From the mad whirl of life, and pour my breath, My heart, my soul, upon the ear of death ! 18 TRUE LIFE. Long years have sped since first I learned to sigh Upon some dear Patroclus^ funeral pyre ; Since sorrow found a channel in mine eye. And for a buried brother, sister, sire, Gushed out in bitter torrents, till this heart. Drained to its depths, no more can feel the smart, That still unsoothed hath sole dominion there ; The busy dream of life but paints it o'er With evanescent hues as brief as fair ; The melancholy groundwork, as before, Stands out unsoftened, unrelieved by time, Drinks up my spirit, saps my early prime. 'Tis midnight now. Upon the latest guest. The weary door hath made its final close, And one sweet hour of deep, oblivious rest. Shall yield my soul luxurious repose — My soul, o'erworn on life's tumultuous sea. And sighing for that stream where peacefully The pillowed mariners unconscious glide. Soothed in a dreamless, care-dispelling sleep : ! let me launch upon that lethean tide. Thought shall be rocked a-slumber, and a deep, Deep plunge of memory beneath its wave Shall leave my spirit quiet as the grave. 19 TRUE LIFE. Illusive hope ; as soon jon gem of night, Soft peering through mj casement from on high, Shall cease its vigilings and quench its light, Tired of its toilsome errands up the skj ; While none but He who lighted up its raj, May bid that little twinkler pass awaj. Star of my Life ! etherial mystic flame, Kindled in heaven, yet deigned to me on earth, Know thou thy destiny is e'en the same : Burn till He gives thee rest, who gave thee birth : From thought no solitude can set thee free. The world shut out, shuts in thyself to thee. That spark aloft at midnight brighter glows, In silence gleams in its sublimest power ; So thou, my soul, while grief around thee throws Its gloomy curtain, let it be the hour Thy noblest energies to freely pour, Yet not to shine,— but from the earth to soar. For what is earth, that spirit e'er should dwell E'en in its sweetest eden ? Let this dust Cling to its fading kindred, — it is well : The soul hath riches where there is no rust, Afar, in heaven, a paradisial grot. Where joy's perfection is, and sorrow cometh not. 20 TRUE LIFE. Now let me call up from the misty past, The venerable one 'twas mine to love Till manhood's years upon my brow had cast Their boding shadows ; — ^he is now above, Nor would I bring him thence, — but oh, to greet That reverend form once more, how sweet, how sweet. Father ! I need not haunt thy resting place. Nor send my thoughts -to seek among the blest, Thy care-worn countenance again to trace : Here lives thy image in this burning breast ^ And here it still shall glow, nor ever fade. Till low beside thee thy lone child is laid. I wot again a flower in life's bright morn, The solace, and the hope, and ay, the pride Of its fond, fostering stem, — that flower was torn By a rude tempest from its parent's side : Where are its beauties now ? — ^go ask the tomb : That rosy child, — ^where now its living bloom i I trode his father's hall, and used to hear His little step light tripping in its glee, But now I hear it not, — and lo, a tear Springs in that eye so gladsome wont to be : Death hath shed mildew on its dearest joy, Borne to the silent world that prattling boy. 21 ' TRUE LIFE Yet can it be that he no more shall come 1 See, here are all his pastime toys arranged As though this moment he had left his home, The recreative for the school-hour chang-ed. o There stands his kite against the chamber Wdll, There hangs his garden hat, there lies his ball, And here, with scientific skill disposed, His tiny cabinet is ope to view ; Would he have left the little door unclosed, Were he to sojourn a long year or twol Ah ! now upon the dusty shelves I see The sad solution, — death — eternity ! And where is Ida? Answer ye sweet flowers Here clustering in the path she loved to tread ; Oft from her hand ye drank the mimic showers ; Now whither hath the gentle Ida fled ? Fair stream, along whose margin oft she strayed^ Where wanders now the lovely, lonely maid 1 The lover's bosom heaves the frequent sigh. The hearts of dear companions inly weep, The varying seasons drearily roll by. Yet Ida seems in some enchanted sleep. Sweet maiden, why so long in slumber bound ? Ah ! mark yon willow '.—Ask the turfy ground I TRUE LIFE dream of time !— Yet good to ponder o'er The strange vicissitudes of this low sphere ; To muse liow s>Yiftly from its rock-bound shore Life's voyagers set sail and disappear : How phantom-like the generations pass, Confessing as they fly, all flesh is grass. Hope draws the outline, let the honest hand Of truth fill up the picture, till we see Life's lights and shades as they are wont to stand, On the broad canvass of reality. Reality, yet strangely frail as fair, Substantial landscape, painted on the air. Mysterious !— It is the hallowed time When spirits are abroad ; and, while I gaze, My buried bosom ones assume their prime. And greet me with the smiles of other days ; And whom I love on earth, a cherished few. Press with the visioned dead upon my view. From guileless infancy, to silvered age, They crowd to make the catalogue complete. As from my heart's imperishable page. Their deep engraven names my thoughts repeat Be these my pencil's theme, while I portray Life's budding, blooming, bearing, and decay. 23 TRUE LIFE. Come, mj Letitia,— mine bj that strange tie Which makes us ever love the artless soul ; Now let me look into that lustrous eye, And trace the course thj coming years shall roll Th' original for life's first picture be, The early stem before the towering tree. Ha I there's a change upon that tiny cheek : Smile on ! not I thy joy would ever mar, Though mournfully it makes the past to speak, And sorrow's heavy step recalls afar : Smile on, and claim my pencil's brightest hues, Life's rainbow tints, to look upon, and lose. Oh, would I were, my cherub child, like thee. So newly from the skies, that earth hath gained No inlet for its deep impurity : Oh, would I were like thee, so soul-unstained ! Sweet Innocence ! my thought, my hand be still 5 The holy theme demands an angel's skill. Hope of thy mother, could her mandate stay The hours that bear thee from a sinless heart, Full amply would thy lessened pangs repay The love that dared to keep thee as thou art. But time's swift tide will ne'er forbear to flow, The little bark must on, the bud must blow. 24 THE TEUE LIFE A EEVERIE. III. Life's germ from heaven, tliough on earth the bloom^ And seems the flower "with full perfection blest ; But ah, there's poison in its sweet perfume, And spots appear within its snowy breast. How could I weep in sootheless, ceaseless grief, That life so soon is sere and yellow leaf. Perfidious heart ; so subtle, so debased ; But for the bitterness in it that springs. The tearful history were soon erased, And earth-born man would soar on seraph wings. Ah, heart, thou need'st the re-creating sway Of Him who is the Life, the Truth, the Way. TRUE LIFE I see the awful vision of all time ; All life, since man became a living soul ; All change, since woman taught him love ; and crime, And death's dark wave began o'er earth to roll : Stupendous pomp ! far reaching to that night Ere stars were kindled, or the sun gave light. Swayed as eternal symphonies impel. Chord answering chord, mysterious harps I hear, And myriad voices still the anthem swell. Pouring grand harmonies from sphere to sphere', Cnanting historic, the great psalm of earth. Since chaos labored with its mighty birth. Man, the epitome ! Still chiefly he The mighty argument of that high song ; Of His omnipotence who bade him be, Sublimest miracle of all the throng That at his mandate from the nought of spaco Camo forth, substantial majesty and grace. Materiality, and essence, each Its full perfection in his form to find ; A universe articulate in his speech ; All spirit-greatness imaged in his mind. Harp on forever, all ye bards above ; Man still your theme, and man-creating love ! 26 TKUE LIFE. Yet must you mourn, ye minstrels of the sky ; Through all your strains still sweeps a note of woe, As myriad hearts were breaking in one sigh ; Now in profoundest octaves moaning low ; Up the careering scale now frantic flies, Shrieks its sad tale in heaven, and wailing dies. Me now instruct, that justly I discourse Those joys and sorrows, your immortal themes ; Reveal of each the annals and the source ; And as I, listening, muse along the streams. And o'er the mountains, all my thoughts inspire Till your high burden thrill my lowly lyre. 'Tis evening now, and all the stars again. Like pensive spirits, look lamenting down ; A sister orb woe-smitten ! and a stain, How deep and lasting, on its old renown. What envious hand so impiously could dare, To mar so mournfully a world so fair. Would I might speak to them ; my soul would know From those high witnesses, so pure and true. Whence came, and why, the desolating blow Could leave such deserts where such edens giew; Could doom to perish an immortal race, And earth itself to fail and have no place. 27 TEUE LIFE. Speak, stars, ye nightly mourners -, and no more In mute amazement wait the coming hour That shall earth's wasted excellence restore, And give man back his innocence and power, Too long your silent sorrow; sootheless grief May quench your glory, yet bring no relief. Known your sad secret; mark the fearful word Kebellion ! traced on every human brow ; And oft in scathing tempests hath been heard The tale that moves your deep compassion now. 0, to my call, ye weeping worlds, reply; Man and his home in ruin ! tell me why ! Great Volume of the Word ; behold, in thee The dark enigma is resolved and clear; But lo, the eye of nature cannot see, And ah, the ear too heavy, cannot hear. His paradise how long with wo overspread; And the immortal dweller, outcast, dead ! Dead ; yet infatuated not to know Essential vigor, beauty, truth, and love Fled when he dealt the self-destroying blow, And lost the Life that ccmeth from above. 0, Word Almighty, the dread bondage break ; Awake the sleeper, bid the dead awake ! TRUE LIFE. Companion mine, along this devious page Let me a tale to tliee discourse awhile, Maj haplj much thy curious ear engage, And this brief hour right worthily beguile ; Yet, as the chronicle unfolds to view. Though fancy's record, deem the burden true, In sooth, my soul is fain to seek repose, And would to thee its lore of years impart ; The meditative gatherings disclose. That miser memory garners in the heart ; A tale of death, pride, passion, riches, fame, And virtue tried in love's intensest flame. In a sweet vale amid a desert waste. There dwelt a maiden radiant as light ; As a pure angel delicate and chaste ; No lovelier form e'er greeted mortal sight; Nor lived she but to bless, and wide to show The living joys that truth and love bestow. At every fount of knowledge drank she deep ; Not erudition's sages so profound ; Of things divine could scale the cloudy steep, And all the depths of faith and reason sound ; Yet ever meek, no one desire she knew, Save still to be all heavenly and true. 29 TRUE LIFE These peerless charms and all -surpassing grace, That humble vale might not unknown retain * A world were blest to look upon that face. And contemplate a heart that knew no stam. From hill to hill wide flew the wondrous tale. So bright a gem in such a lowlj vale ! Came one and knelt adoring at her shrine ; And, sooth, a great and seemly suitor he ; Could she his prayer and plighted troth decline 1 Ah, who can know a maiden's mind, perdie ! Not all unmoved his suppliance she heard. Yet gave no hope, save only ' hope deferred,' Ah, gentle fair, why thus my suit disdain, Cried he, reproachful, with offended pride : A nobler name in story must I gain ; What task performed shall win thee for my bride % Though years attest my studious toil for thee, ' Yet say what more to do ; what more to be. Then she, all-pitying, raised a tearful eye. And owned the fond emotion of her breast, i But thoughtful, drew a deep deploring sigh. And a strange, startling answer thus expressed ; 0, noble youth, though earth's best gifts are shed Around and on thee, thou, alas, art dead ! 30 TRUE LIFE A.S Starts a dreamer wlien some liideous shai)e Tlie slumbering sense with sudden terror thrills; So he, with shuddering soul, would fain escape Back to the refuge of his native hills. But still transfixed he stood, in mute dismay, Till all like some dread vision passed away. Again ere long to conscious thought returned. He sighed the import of those words to know ; Dead 1 while his bosom with such ardor burned ; Love, reason, and ambition all a-glow ; Yet oh, that word, with such dark meaning fraught And that sweet spirit; could they be for nought'! The maiden's bower again he trembling sought, And prayed a lover's pure impassioned prayer 5 0, might he at her feet the truth be taught ; Or would she but vouchsafe to tell him where, Where might he terminate the doubtful strife ; And find, if he were dead, the soul's true life. Oj sweet to see how she inclined the ear -, How soon disclosed the '' the true and living-way And ah, how brake his heart the brimming tear That bade him never from her love to stray, As forth, elate, with hastenmg step she trode, And showed a temple-Truth's august abode. 31 TRUE LITE Now, onward thou, she cried, the mountain climb, And press for yonder porch with steadfast heart, There enter, and the wisdom of okl-time Its prophet-voices shall to thee impart; Obej, and lo, thou shalt to life arise, And this, my long-sought hand shall be thj prize Then thitherward a wistful look he cast. Bending his step within a narrow waj; And on his jojous pilgrimage he passed. Still wending onward all the wearj day. Till at the portal pausing, lowly there He knelt and breathed a penitential prayer. 0, Fount of Life ! in thy blest courts how free The sacramental stream all-cleansing flows, When the benighted wanderer bends the knee, And o'er his head the mystic waters close. ' Baptismal Jordan ! and the Spirit-Dove ! Life, Reconciliation, Peace, and Love ! So knew the pilgrim as the ghostly shower From holy hands descended on his head. Regenerated ! By redeeming power Awaked from sleep ; arisen from the dead ! How flashed the light ! What rapture thrilled the yo^^th -, There, and forever his, were Life and I^ruth 32 JULIA. As sudden sunshine gilds a murky sky, Or moonbeams tip the raven wings of night. That happy word illumined Julia's eye, Made all the clouds of her dark sorrow hrighl, And filled the cottag's aiith a new dehgbl 34 JULIA, AN AUTUMNAL TALE Where rural Chester spreads in hill and plain, And rippling Bronx pursues its peaceful way, Just as you turn within a winding lane, Skirting the border of a little bay, There stands a cottage ivied-o'er and gray. The home of Julia's jo3^ous spring of life ; Ere the sweet blossom ripened into love. Ere she had known the autumn of its strife^ The cold rude blasts that pierce the gentle Dove, And warn its wing to calmer climes above. Alas, there came a change upon her heart, A hopeless sorrow like an April blight : For other lands she saw her swain depart ; And swift departed then each gay delight, Spring became Winter, — Morning turned to night ' JULIA Still climbed the wood-bine by the cottage door; Still sang the robin sweetly to his mate, Still strove parental fondness as before, But Julia's grief still knew but one dark date, And flower and st ng and love came all too late. It was October, — sadly wailed the breeze, As o'er the hill and through the wood it sped ; The fruit was gathered from ihe sapless trees, A frosty veil the meadows overspread, And all the groves were withering or dead. The harvest fields of all their treasures shorn Betrayed again the rude unseemly ground ; Where grew the bending wheat, the towering corn, But stubble now, and leafless stalks were found, Furrow, and ridge, the fading landscape round. Fail Chester seemed like some desponding maid^ The scene so sad beneath the autumn sky j Her summer sun to rival climates strayed, Her dewy pearls ungathered left to lie. And limpid Bronx in grief to murmur by. 3(j JULIA. (All, gentle stream, glide on In ceaseless wo, While by thy margin sleeps th}^ plaintive bard, Sweet minstrel Drake ! Ye autumn winds sinir low ! o Ye seasons all, leave that green slope unmarred Where yon lone willows his dear ashes guard.) There came a stranger to the gate one eve, And craved in gentle words to be a guest ; Might that sweet cot his weariness relieve. Now da}^ so far was drooping down the west . A pilgrim's blessing on the roof should rest All wxdcome ever to that kindly hearth ; None sought its plenty or its peace in vain ; Though pensive Julia knew no more of mirth, Yet none abiding there might know her pain, Did in her heart such holy calmness reign. Came hastening on the chill autumnal night, With rustic pastime and its guiltless glee. The floor was stainless, and the fire was bnght, The nuts were cracking upon every knee. And new-made cider flowed most sweet and free. 37 JULIA. Hif>h rose the mirth as from the embers flew o The roasting chesnut with a sudden start, For bkishing John, or Jane, an omen true Of love's sly passion glowing in the heart, And Hymen's speedy aid with his sweet art. The stranger's heart was moved by Julia's grace And oft he gazed, as bound by beauty's speli, Upon her faultless form and winning face. And as he felt the pure emotion swell He longed the secret of his love to tell. Nor he unworthy such a maid to win ; Of noble aspect, manly, yet serene ; No foul deceiver, stained with reckless sin ; In sportive group upon the village green, He were a goodly king, and she a queea. With gentle accents soon, and whispering low, Besought he Julia for a hopeful smile ; But ah, his suit still added to her wo — Her mournful thoughts were far away the whilf," And loving words might not her heart beguile 38 II JULIA.. Ah ! stranger said she sweetly, one I knew Who wooed and won this simple heart of mine, And to his image still it m.ust be true, Though weary seasons it may yet repine, Till Ufe's last sun of hope in death decline. 'Twas autumn e'en as now when last we met, And seven long years their dreary course have run, Since here we plighted, never to forget ; That holy pledge I may recal for none ; One shares my silent love,— and only one. I still remember how we used to rove, Young and light-hearted in the frosty Fail, Far in the lonely depths of nut-wood grove, List'ning the squirrel's chirp, the cat-bird's call, Kid from the world, and happier than all. How through the rusthng leaves we loved to walk. Our ample baskets bountifully stored, As hand in hand we held our cheerful talk, And still each nook for hidden nuts explored Proud to bear home an unexampled board 39 JULIA. Oft through the bending orcnard have I prest. Among the fruits in rich abundance there, To cull for him the ripest and the best, The evening pastime early to prepare, Undreamins: then that love is linked with care ! When in the barn the laborers and he Threshed out the treasures of the ripened sheaf, ' How sweet the music of his flail to me ! But all is over, — save my helpless grief. And life to me is now an autumn leaf! Oh stransfcr, there be fairer maids than I Would proudly welcome such a proffered hand ; Your lordly wealth a paradise rr.ay buy, But vain for me the glittering, or grand ; My sootheless heart is in another land. Said then the traveler, I knew full well Your wandering Youth in Oriental climes ; Oft have I heard him of sweet Chester tell. Repeat its tales, rehearse its rustic rhymes, And talk of all its pleasant autumn times. 40 JULIA. Tiie ardent skies where he has sojourned long, Have tinged his visage with the Indian hue ; His youthful limbs have stalwart srown and strona: ; And scarce his voice might now be known to you ; Yet beats hia heart unalterably true ! How cruel was the storm that wrecked his bark, And drove him helmless o'er the raging wave ; Above, below, and all around him dark. No voice to soothe him, and no hand to save, No hope, no refuge but a billowy grave, And when the rescue came, and bore him far Through widening seas to India's distant shore, How sank in gloom, his bosom's love-lit star, How seemed the visions of his home all o'er, Without a promise he should see it more. But still he lives ! — and in his dreams of bliss His faithful Julia all his ardor claims ; Oft has he longed for such an hour as this. Oft in his prayer his cherished one he names ; Dear angel ! — I am he,— your long lost James i 41 JULIA. As sudden sunshine gilds a murky sky, Or moonbeams tip the raven wings of night, That happy word illumined Julia's eye, Made all the clouds of her dark sorrow bright, And filled the cottage with a new delight. The glowing hearth grew warmer than before. The baking apples tumbled to and fro. The singing kettle instant spouted o'er, Kate could no longer spin, nor Sally sew. And e'en the wind seemed gladsomely to blow ! Joined all the household in a loving din ; Fantastic shadows danced upon the wall. Such clasping, kissing, gliding out and in ! Such leaping, laughing, talking, one and all, It might be deemed a romping rustic Ball ! Still rural Chester spreads in hill and plain, I Still murmurs rippling Bronx its autumn la3% Still stands a ruin in that winding lane, Skirting the border of a little bay, — But all the dwellers there have passed away ! 42 ED¥AED BELL A HURAL SKETCH OF MAY One bright May morning there were children playing By a brook ; There was no care upon their young hearts weighing ; No sad look : The forests, fields, and flowers were green and gay, That morn in May. And they were six, those children, sweetly mated Two and two ; Three urchins and three maidens, and they prated As such do : They prattled, played, and helped the birds to smg The rosy Spring ! 13 EDWARD BELL. Full simple and all artless was the story That each told ; But truth and innocence have still a glory As of old ; And rudest childhood may inspire a page For wisest age. Oh life ! why are thy early joys forsaken ! Why should time Lull innocence to slumber, and awaken Pride and crime ! Oh years, oh change, how swift ye bear away Life's sinless May ! They were not whispering the shame of others : Nor would fling The brand of enmity among earth's brothers ; Nor the stinsj Of jealous rivalry did they endure, — For they were pure ! They loved each other, and they loved the (lowers, Streams and trees. The vine slow creeping o'er the latticed bowers, Buzzing bees. The mossy cottacre. and the old stone wall, — They loved them all. 44 EDWARD BELL. The fragrant cluster of wild roses glowiiig In the dell, Pink, woodbine, li'lach, and sweet-briar blowing By the well, With holly-hock, like soldiery around, Guarding the ground. Oh, could the sordid ones of earth have listened Each sweet word — The heart had softened and the eye had glistetiisd While they heard : Such guileless love, such gentleness were there, — Alas, so rare ! .May ! o'er the distant wood tne crow is sweiiincr His wild cry ; To pilfering broods in sprouting cornfields telling Danger nigh ! Just as the ambushed farmer to the sun Betrays his gun. Loud chants the brook, some lovelorn myth repealing Shouts each boy ; E'en driftincr leaves, in little eddies meet ins', Dance for joy ; The odorous air, the sky, the sun's warm ray All make it May ! 45 K n W ARD BELx.. But there were two among the group that season, Edward Bell, And one whose name the muse with mournful reason Shrinks to tell — An angel girl — the eldest that was there, And passing fair. They sat together where the trees o'ershaded And they walked Along the margin of the stream, or waded, Sang and talked, A nd looked into each other's eyes to say — Oh, sweet, sweet — May ! And they discoursed of all the rural pleasures Spring imparts ; Field, garden, grove, — ^how full of truest treasures For true hearts ! The sweet vicissitude — the toil — the rest, Supremely blest ! How painted he the picture of the morning From the dawn : The cock's shrill trumpet ear.iest in warning; The green lawn. The rising mist, the far receding night. The orient light ! 46 EDWARD BhLL. The dewy glitter as the sun came peeping O'er the hill ; The lonely willow, where the loved were sleeping, Weeping still ; The skylark mounting with his matin lay To meet the day. The drowsy plough-boy to the meadow wending For the team, The barnyard choir their rueful concert blending With his dream ; The laden cows slow gathering before The dairy door. The creaking bars that John lets down for Sophy With her pails ; The hasty kiss he seizes as a trophy O'er the rails ; The patient oxen yoked and ready now To speed the plough. The gi'umbling mill-wheel indolently starting, And the co:'n In rustic wagons coming and departing ; The far horn Calling to the repast some swain remote, With welcome note 47 EPWA RD BELL. The curling smoke some distant cot denoting 'Mid the trees : The low bright clouds along the azure floating; The soft breeze, Where blooming orchards their sweet odors fling The Spring, — the Spring ! So penciled he, that youth, with raptured feeling Yet serene, The guileless fountain of his heart revealing, That fair scene : And she, elate, delight in each blue eye, Made sweet reply. 'Twas her's to paint the dear domestic heaven That she knew : The tranquil joys, from early morn till even. Pure and true ; The peace that seeks more oft the cottage gate Than courtly state. How eloquent to her each simple token Of the time. The day's approach, — the chains of slumber broken The sweet chime Of songsters warbling from the budding spray — • Hail flowery May ! 48 EDWARD BELL. The cool ablution at the drippinp; fountain, By the bower ; (A crystal treasure newly from the mountain, Since the shower,) The w^oodman's lay soft echoing on the ear, Oh, sweet to hear ! The strain now near, — and faintly now receding On the air ; Now heard, — now^ hushed again, some breeze impeding, Yet seems there, — • The lingering cadence haunting all the sky, Too pure to die ! But yonder whistling teamster home returning O'er the farm, Slow wheeling up his load of brush for burning, Breaks the charm ; The crackling branches, and the axe' sharp fall Out-echoinn; all ! And now the blazing hearth, fair Jane preparing Her rich store : The idle dog the clamorous poultry scaring From the door : The frisking colt, the two pet lambs at play ; 'Tis May,— 'tis IMay ! 40 EDWARD BELL. So mused that gentle pair, the time beguiUng, That bright day ; Dream, d not the joyous group, that hours so smilinj Pass away! They prattled, played, and helped the birds to sing, The rosy Spring ! Ah, brook and flowery bank how soon forsaken ! Ah, that time Should lull our truth to slumber, and awaken Pride and crime ! Oh years, oh change, how swift ye bear away Youth's happy May ! One morn again a poor old man was straying By the brook : Sore seemed the sorrow on his bent form weighing, Sad his look : For him nor field nor flowers were green, or gay, Though it was May. He gazed as dreaming of some brighter morning, Ere his wo : He missed the fairest flow^er that bank adorning, Long ago ! Five turfy mounds were there — there dead he fell ! 'Twas Edward Bell ! 50 Till- jrTuiui fie)ds would luasqneraae ; Fantastic scone ? Trfffi, shrill), n.nd lawn, and lom-ly gl.ido Have cast their g.ecn, And joined the revel, all arrayed So white and cltian. Slow, A WINTER SKETCH, ■^^ ^^&1> The blessed mora has come again; The early gray Taps at the slumberer's window pane, And seems to say Break, break from the enchanter's chain, Away, away ! 'Tis Winter, yet there is no sound Along the air, Of winds upon their battle-ground, But gently there, The snow is faUing, — all around How fair — how fair ! 53 SJXO w. The jocund fields would masquerade ; Fantastic scene ! Tree, shrub, and lawn, and lonely glade Have cast their green, 4nd joined the revel, all array ec^ So white and clean. E'en the old posts, that hold the bars And the old gate. Forgetful of their wintry wars And age sedate, High capped, and plumed, like white hussars, Stand there in state. The drifts are hanging by the sill, The eaves, the door ; The hay-stack has become a hill ; All covered o'er The wagon, loaded for the mill The eve before. Maria brings the water-paii, But Where's the Well ! Like magic of a fairy tale, Most strange to tell, All vanished, curb, and crank, and rail! How deep it fell ! 54 SNOW. The wood-pile too is playing hide ; The axe, the log, The kennel of that friend so tried, (The old watch-dog,) The gi'indstone standing by its side, All now incog. The bustling cock looks out aghast From his high shed ; No spot to scratch him a repast Up curves his head, Starts the dull hamlet with a blast And back to bed. Old drowsy dobbin, at the call. Amazed, awakes; Out from the window of his stall A view he takes. While thick and faster seem to fall The silent flakes. The barn-yard gentry, musing, chime Their morning moan; Like Memnon's music of old time That voice of stone ! So marbled they — and so sublime Their solemn tone. 55 SNOW. Good Ruth has called the younker folk To dress below ; Full welcome was tne word she spoke. Down, dow^n they go, The cottage quietude is broke, — ■ The snow ! — the snow ! Now rises from around the fire A pleasant strain ; Ye giddy sons of mirth, retire ' And ye profane ! A hymn to the Eternal Sire Goes up again. The patriarchal Book divine, Upon the knee, Opes where the gems of Judah shine, (Sweet minstrelsie !) How soars each heart with each fair line Oh God, to Thee ! Around the altar low they bend, Devout in prayer ; As snows upon the roof descend, So angels there Come down that hDusehold to defend With gentle care. s^ow Now sings the kettle o'er the blaze ; The buckwheat heaps ; Rare Mocha, worth an Arab's praise, Sweet Susan steeps ; The old round stand her nod obeys, And out it leaps. Unerring presages declare The banquet near ; Soon, busy appetites are there ; And disappear The glories of the ample fare, With thanks sincere. Now tiny snow-birds venture nigh From copse and spray, (Sweet strangers ! with the winter's sky To pass away ;) And gather crumbs in full supply, For all the day. Let now the busy hours begin : Out rolls the churn ; Forth hastes the farm-boy, and brings in The brush to burn ; Sweep, shovel, scour, sew*, knit, and spin, 'Till night's return. ' 57 SNOW To delve his threshing John must hie ; His sturdy shoe Can all the subtle damp defy ; How wades he through ! While dainty milkmaids, slow and snv. His track pursue. Each to the hour's allotted care ; To shell the corn ; The broken harness to repair ; The sleigh t' adorn ; As cheerful, tranquil, frosty, fair, Speeds on the morn ; While mounts the eddying smoke amam From many a hearth. And all the landscape rings again With rustic mirth ; So gladsome seems to every swam The SNOWY earth. 58 , j» »K«t TO MARY; A WIXTER RETROSPECT. When^ lately, fair cousin, you sued for a dozen Brief lines in a song or a sonnet, Though little you knew it, I trembled to do it, For thoughts of our youth came upon it ; •A sad retrospection of early affection ; The joys of our infancy's morning ; Of many warm hearted now cold or departed ; Dark changes that came without warning. When over the heather we ^'ourneyed together, Or roved in the meadow, beguiling Our hohday hours in gathering flowers. While the bright summer skies were smiling, As sister and brother were we to each other ; As lovers whom nought could dissever, Nor knew that that feeling was rapidly stealing Away like a meteor forever. 59 TO MARY. And while we remember, as frosty December Comes bristling along in his ire, How cheated the season so out of all reason, Our glee bj the crackling fire ; 'Tis mournfiillj pleasant to look from the present Far back on those days of gladness. But none can restore them, dark shadows are o'er them, And memory sinks in sadness. Yet what is life's trouble ; a fable, a bubble, Unreal, or soon to vanish ; A cloud on a, mountain, the mist o'er a fountain, Which the first beam of morn will banish. There cometh an hour of balmiest power. When gloom shall afar be driven, And when we shall fleetly, yet calmly ana sweetly Go up to our rest in heaven. The years in their rolling thus whisper consoling ; And deep though they leave their traces. Disrobing the roses where beauty reposes. While furrows of care take their places. Though thus they pursue us, they shall not subdue us, But when through our course we have wended. Life's stormiest billow will seem a sweet pillow, And all in love's ocean be ended, 60 THE WORLD-SALE. A MORAL SKETCH. There wandered from some mystic sphere, A Youth, celestial, down to earth ; So strangely fair seemed all things here. He e'en would crave a mortal birth : And soon, a rosy boy, he woke, A dweller in some stately dome ; Soft sunbeams on his vision broke, And this low world became his home. WOPwLD-SALE. Ah, cheated child ! Could he but know Sad soul of mine, what thou and I The bud would never wish to blow, The nestling never long to fly ; Perfuming the regardless air, High soaring into empty space ; A blossom ripening to despair, A flight — ^without a resting place ! How bright to him life's opening mom ! No cloud to intercept a ray ; The rose had then no hidden thorn, The tree of life knew no decay. How greeted oft his wondering soul The fairy shapes of childish joy, As gaily on the moments stole And still grew up the blooming boy How gently played the odorous air Among his wavy locks of gold, His eye how bright, his cheek how fa^r As still youth's summer days were told, Seemed each succeeamg hour to tell Of some- more rare unfolding grace ; Some swifter breeze his sail to swell, And press the vavager apace i WOE-LD-S ALE He roved a swain of some sweet vale, Or climbed, a daring mountaineer ; And oft, upon the passing gale, His merry song we used to hear ; Might none e'er mount a fleeter steed, His glittering chariot none outvie. Or village mart, or rural mead. The hero he of heart and eye. Anon a wishful glance he cast Where storied thrones their empire hold And soon beyond the billowy Vast He leaped upon the shores of old ! He sojourned long in classic halls, At learning's feast a favored guest, And oft within imperial walls, He tasted all delights, save — rest ! It was a restless soul he bore. And all unquenchable its fire ; Nor banquet, pomp, nor golden store, Could e'er appease its high desire. And yet would he the phantom band So oft deceiving still pursue, Delicious sweets in every land> But ah, not lasting, pure or true ' WORLD-SALE. He knelt at many a gorgeous shrine ; Reclined in love's voVuptuous bowers ; Yet did his weary soul repine, Were listless still the lingering hours. Then sped an argosie to bear The sated truant to his home, But sorrow's sombre cloud was there, "Twas dark in all that stately dome. Was rent at last life's fair disguise, And that Immortal taught to know He had been wandering from the skies, Alas, how long— alas, how low ! Deluded,— but the dream was done ; A conqueror, — ^but his banner furled ; The race was over, — he had won, — But found his prize— a worthless World ! Oh Earth, he sighed, and gazed afar, How thou encumberest my wing ! My home is yonder radiant star, But thither thee I cannot bring. How have I tried thee long and well, But never found thy joys sincere, Now, now my soul resolves to sell Thy treasures strewn around me here ! 64 ■\VOKLD-SALE. The flatteries 1 so long have stored In memory's casket one by one, Must now be stricken from the hoard The day of tinselled joy is done ! Here go the useless jewels ! see The golden lusire they impart ! But vain the smiles of earth for me, They cannot gild a broken heart ! The world for sale ! — Hannj out the si^n Call every traveller here to me ; Who'll buy this brave estate of mine, And set me from earth's bondage free ! 'Tis going ! — yes I mean to fling The bauble from my soul away ; I'll sell it, whatsoe'er it bring ; — The World at Auction here to-day ! It is a glorious thing to see ; Ah, it has cheated me so sore ! It is not what it seems to be : For sale ! It shall be mine no more. Come, turn it o'er and view it well ; I would not have you purchase dear ; 'Tis going — going ! I must sell ! Who bids ! Who'll buy the Splendid Tear » 65 WORLD-SALS Here's Wealth in glittering heaps of ^old, Who bids! but let me tell you fair, A baser lot was never sold ; Who'll buy the heavy heaps of care And here, spread out in broad domain, A goodly landscape all may trace ; Hall, cottage, tree, field, hill and plain ; Who'll buy himself a Burial Place ! Here's Love, the dreamy potent spell That beauty flings around the heart ! I know its power, alas, too well ! 'Tis going ! Love and I must part ! Must part ! What can I more with Love ! All over the enchanter's reign ! Who'll buy the plumeless, dying dove, An hour of bliss, — an age of Pain ! And Friendship, — rarest gem of earth, (Who e'er hath found the jewel his ?) Frail, fickle, false and little worth, Who bids for Friendship — as it is ! 'Tis going — agoing ! — Hear the call ; Once, twice, and thrice ! — 'Tis very low ! 'Twas once- my hope, my stay, my all, But now the broken staff must go ! 66 WORLD-SALE. Fame! hold the briUiant meteor high How dazzhng every gilded name ! Ye millions, now's the time to buy ! How much for Fame ! How much for Fame 1 Hear how it thunders ! would you stand On high Olympus, far renowned. Now purchase, and a w^orld command ! — And be with a world's curses crowned ! Sweet star of Hope ! with ray to shine In every sad foreboding breast, Save this desponding one of mine. Who bids for man's last friend and best 1 Ah, were not mine a bankrupt life, This treasure should my soul sustain ; But Hope and I are now at strife, Nor ever may unite again. And Song ! — For sale my tuneless lute , Sweet solace, mine no more to hold ; The chords that charmed my soul are mute» I cannot wake the notes of old ! Or e'en were mine a wizard shell, Could chain a world in raptures high ; Yet now a sad farewell ! — farewell ! Must on its last faint echoes die. 67 W R L D - S A L E . Ainljition, fashion, show, and pride, I part from all for ever no"vf' Grief, in an overwhelming tide. Has taught my haughty heart to bo\>. Poor heart ! distracted, ah, so long. And still its aching throb to bear ; How broken, that was once so strong ; How heavy, once so free from care. Ah, cheating earth ! — could man but know Sad soul of mine, what thou and I — The bud would never wish to blow, The nestling never long to fly ! Perfuming the regardless air ; High soaring into empty space ; A blossom ripening to despair, A flight — without a resting place ! No more for me life's fitful dream ; Bright vision, vanishing away ! My bark requires a deeper stream ; My sinking soul a surer stay. By death, stern sheriff*! all bereft, I weep, yet humbly kiss the rod ; The best of all I still have left, — Mv Faith, my Bible, and my God- 6-. Iii/V^^=^&^ .1^ -'■% OLD. Buckled knee and shoe, and broad-rimmed hat, Coat as ancient as the form 'twas folding, Silver buttons, queue, and crimped cravat, Oaken staff his feeble hand upholding. There he sat I Buckled knee and shoe, and broad-rimmed hafii OLD A RURAL SKETCH ^^irWi0 By the way-side, on a mossy stone, Sat a hoary pilgrim sadly musing ; Olt I marked him sitting; there alone. AH the landscape like a page perusing Poor, unknown, By the way-side, on a mossy stone. 7i OLD. Buckled knee and shoe, and broad-rimmed hat, Coat as ancient as the form 'twas folding, Silver buttons, queue, and crimped cravat. Oaken staff, his feeble hand upholding, There he sat ! Buckled knee and shoe, and broad-rimmed hat Seemed it pitiful he should sit there, No one sympathizing, no one heeding, None to love him for his thin grey hair, And the furrows all so mutely pleading Age and care ; Seemed it pitiful he should sit there. It was summer, and we went to school, Dapper country lads and little maidens, Taught the motto of the " Dunce's Stool," Its grave import still my fancy lad ens, "Here's a fool!" It was summer, and w^e went to school. Still, in sooth, our tasks we seldom tried ; Sportive pastime only wortn our learning , But we listened when the old man sighed. And that lesson to our hearts went burnmg, And w^e cried ! Still, in sooth, our tasks we seldom tried. 72 OLD. When the stranger seemed to mark our play, (Some of us were joyous, some sad-hearted,) I remember, well, — too well, — that day ! Oftentimes the tears unbidden started. Would not stay ! When the stranger seemed to mark our play. When we cautiously adventured nigh We could see his lip with anguish quiver : Yet no word he uttered, but his eye Seemed in mournful converse with the river Murmuring by. When we cautiously adventured nigh. One sweet spirit broKe ifte silent spell, Ah ! to me her name was always heaven ! She besought him all his grief to tell, (I was then thirteen, and she eleven,) Isabel! One sweet spirit broke the silent spell. Softly asked she with a voice divine, Why so lonely hast thou wandered hither ; Hast no home ? — then come with me to mine ; There's our cottage, let me lead thee thither; Why repine. Softly asked she with a voice divine. 73 OLD. Angel, said lie sadly, I am old : Earthly hope no longer hath a morrow Yet why I sit here thou shalt be told, Then his eye betrayed a pearl of sorrow ; Down it rolled ; Angel, said he sadly, I am old ! I have tottered here to look once more On the pleasant scene where I delighted In the careless, happy days of yore, Ere the garden of my heart was blighted To the core ! I have tottered here to look once more ! All the picture now to me how dear ! E'en this grey old rock where I am seated. Seems a jewel worth my journey here ; Ah, that such a scene should be completed With a tear ! All the picture now to me how dear ! Old stone School-house ! — it is still the same ! There's the very step so oft I mounted ; There's the window creaking in its frame, And the notches that I cut and counted For the game : Old stone School-hou^e! — it is still the same: 74 OLD. In the cottage yonder I was born ; Long my happy home — that humble dwelHng ; There the fields of clover, wheat, and corn, There the spring with limped nci tar swelling ; Ah, forlorn* - In the cottage yonder I was b^rn. Those two gate-way sycamores you see Then were planted, just so far asunder That long well-pole from the path to free, And the wagon to pass safely under ; Ninety-three ! Those two gate-way sycamores you see. There's the orchard where we used to climb When my mates and I were boys together. Thinking nothing of the flight of time, Fearing nought but work and rainy weather; Past its prime ! There's the orchard where we used to climb ! There the rude three-cornered chestnut rails, Round the pasture where the flocks were grazing, Where so sly I used to watch for quails In the crops of buckwheat we were raising, Traps and trails, There the rude three-cornered chestnut rails. 75 OLD. How in summer have I traced that stream, There through mead and woodland sweetly gliding, Luring simple trout with many a scheme From the nooks where I have .^ound them hiding ; All a dream ! How in summer have I traced that stream. There's the mill that ground our yellow grain ; Pond, and river still serenely flowing ; Cot, there nestling in the shaded lane, Where the lily of my heart was blowing, — Mary Jane ! There's the mill that ground our yellow grain ! There's the gate on which I used to swing. Brook, and bridge, and barn, and old red stable • But, alas ! the morn shall no more bring That dear group around my father's tablv^, ; Taken wing ! There's the gate on which I used to swing ! I am fleeing ! — all I loved are fled ; Yon gi'een meadow was our place for playing ; That old tree can tell of sweet things said. When around it Jane and I were straying ; She is dead! I am fleeing ! — all I loved are fled ! 76 OLD. Yon white spire — a pencil on the sky, Tracing silently life's changeful story, So familiar to my dim old eye, Points me to seven thcit are now in glory I'I.ere on high! Yon white spi'T a pencil on the sky. Oft the aisle or that old church we trod. Guided thither by an angel mother, Now she sleeps beneath its sacred sod, Sire and sisters, and my little brother ; Gone to God ! Oft the aisle of that old church we trod ! There I heard of Wisdom's pleasant ways ; Bless the holy lesson ! — but, ah, never Shall I hear again those songs of praise. Those sweet voices silent now forever ! Peaceful days ! There I heard of Wisdom's pleasant ways. There my Mary blest me with her hand, When our souls drank in the nuptial blessing Ere she hastened to the spirit land : Yonder turf her gentle bosom pressing : Broken band! There my Mary blest me with her hand. OLD I have come to see that grave once more. And the sacred place where we delighted. Where we worshipped in the days of yore, Ere the garden of my heart was blighted To the core ! I have come to see that grave once more. Haply, ere the verdure there shall fade, I, all withering with years, shall perish ; With my Mary may I there be laid. Join forever — all the wish I cherish — Her dear Shade ! — Haply, ere the verdm'e there shall fade. Angel, said he sadly, I am old ! Earthly hope no longer hath a morrow ; Now why I sit here thou hast been told ; In his eye another pearl of sorrow, — Down it rolled ! Angel, said he sadly, I am old ! By the way-side, on a mossy stone, Sat the hoary pilgrim, sadly musing ; Still 1 marked him sitting there alone. All the landscape like a page perusing Poor, unknown, By the way-side, on a mossy stone. 78 NEW, A PORTRAITURE OF DISCONTENT. Still sighs the world for sometliing ne For something new ; Imploring me, imploring you, Some Will-o'-wisp to help pursue ; Ah, liapless world, what will it do ! Imploring me, imploring you, For somethino: xew ! Each pleasure, tasted, fades away, It fades away ; Nor 3^ou nor I can bid it stay ; A dew-drop trembling on a spra}'- ; A rainbow at the close of day ; Nor you nor I can bid it stay ; It fades aw a}' ! 7D NE W. Fill up life's chalice to the brim ; Up to the brim ; 'Tis only a capricious whim ; A dreamy phantom, flitting dim, Inconstant still for Her, or Him ; *Tis only a capricious whim. Up to the brim ' SHE. She, young and fair, expects dehght ; Expects delight ; Forsooth, because the morn is bright, She deems it never will be ^ight, That youth hath not a wing for flight. Forsooth, because the morn is bright, Expects delight ! The rose, once gathered, cannot please , It cannot please ; Ah, simple maid, a rose to seize, That only blooms to tempt and teaze : With thorns to rob the h«art of case ; Ah, simple maid, a rose to seize ; It cannot please I 80 NEW. 'Tis winter, but sbe pines for spring ; She pines for spring ; No bliss its frost and follies bring ; A bird of passage on the wing ; Unhappy, discontented thing No bUss its frost and follies bring ; She pines for spring ! Delicious May, and azure skies, And azure sides ; With flowers of paradisial dyes ; Now, maiden, happy be and wise Ah, June can only charm her eyes With flowers of paradisial dyes, And azure skies ! The glowing, tranquil summertime, The Summer-time ; Too listless in a maiden's prime, Dull, melancholy pantomime ; Oh, for a gay autumnal clime : Too listless in a maiden's prime, The Summer-time ! 81 NEW. October ! with earth's richest store ; Eartlis r'ciiest store ! Alas, iiisipitl as.bcforo,? Days, ino:nhs, .-ind seasons, o*cr and o*cr Remotest hmas tiicir treasures pour ; Alas, insipid as before, Earth's richest store : Love nestles in that gentle breast ; That gentle breast ; Ah, love will never let it rest ! The cruel, sly, ungratclul guest , A viper in a linnet's nest ; Ah, love will never let it rest ; That gentle breast ! Could she embark on Fashion's tide ; On fashion's tide ; How gaily might a maiden glide ; — Contentment, innocence, and pricio. All stranded upon either side ' — How gail}^ might a maiden glide. On fashion's tide ' 82 K E W AI], maiden, time will make thee smart . Will make thee smart ; .^ome new, and keen, and poisoned dart. Will pierce at last that restless heart . VoQth, friends, and beauty will depart : Some new, and keen, and poisoned dart, Will make thee smart ! So pants for change the fickle fair ; The fickle fair ; A feather fioatmg in the air. Still wafled here, and wafted there. No charm, no hazard worth her care , A feather floating in the air, The fickle Fair ! HE . How sad his lot, the hapless swain ; The hapless Swain ; With care, and toil, in lieat and ram. To speed the plough or harvest-wain Still reaping only fields of grain, With care, and toil, in heat and ram , The hapless vSwain ! 83 X E \Y. Must bear, alas, parental rule ; Parental rule ; The tiresome task ; the irksome school ; His life is but a passive pool ; O, were he but a man !— (the fool !) The tiresome task, the irksome school, Parental rule ! Youth, weary youth, 'twill soon be past ; 'Twill soon be past ; His isiaxhood's happiness shall last ; Renown, and riches, far and fast. Their potent charms shall round him cast, His Manhood's happiness shall last : — 'Twill soon be past ! Now toiling up ambition's steep ; Ambition's steep ; The rugged path is hard to keep ; The spring how far ! the well how deep ! Ah me ! in folly's bower asleep ! The rugged path is hard to keep ; Ambition's steep ! 84 NEW The dream fulfilled ! rank, fortune, fame ; Rank, fortune, fame ; Vain fuel for celestial flame I He wins and wears a glittering name, Yet sighs his longing soul the same ; Vain fuel for celestial flame, Rank, fortune, fame ! Sweet Beaut}" aims with Cupid's Bow With Cupid's bow ; Can she transflx him now ? — ah, no ! Amid the fairest flowers that blow, The torment but alights — to go ; Can she transfix him now ? — ah, no, With Cupid's bow ! Indulgent heaven grant but this, O grant but this. The boon shall be enough of bhss, A HOME, with true affection's kiss. To mend whate'er may hap amiss, The boon shall be enough of bliss ; C grant but this ! 85 N E ^Y.. The Eden won :— insatiate still, Insatiate still ; — A wider, fairer range, he will ; Some mountain highei than his liiil ; Some prospect fancy's map to fill ; A \vider, fairer range he will; Insatiate still ! From maid to matron, son to sire ; From son to sire, Kach bosom bums with quenchless fire, Where life's vain phantasies expire In some new phoenix of desire ; Each bosom burns witli quenchless fire, From son to sire ! Still sighs the world for something now, For somcthino: new : Imploring me, imploring 3'ou, Some Will-o'-wisp to helj) pursue ; Ah, hapless world, what will it do ; Imploring me, imploring you, For SOMETHING NEW ' S6 RAIN. Yonder, at the Inn, together Fast a wayside group conecting. Much discourse of rainy weather, Idle ahnanacs rejecting. Boy and man Each predicting all he cast. RAIK A SUMMER REMINISCENCE. In the valley, I remember, Where my life's bright morn was glovnug, Summer-morning ! — no December Wintry gales of sorrow blowing; Wilton dale I All was bliss in that sweet vale I There were gently sloping meadows, Where sweet streams went softly gliding, Sunny glades and forest shadows, All in beauty there abiding : Simple swain. Most of all I loved— the Rain! RA IN". Summer! — lies the fragrant clover Where the harvestmen were reaping^ But the morninoj task is over, And the laborers are sleeping: It is noon, In the sultry time of June. 'Mid the brook that murmurs yonder, Deep the weary ox is wading To the cool retreat, far under Where the arching boughs o'ershadingi Shun the fly, Tiresome yoke, and burning sky. Happy valley ! — so serenely Morning's toilsome season closing ; E'en the scythe, that mowed so keenly, Rake, and haystack seem reposing ; Vale and hill. Rural noontide — warm and still. Long the thirsty fields have waited, Of refreshing nectar dreaming , But the tokens have abated, Every hope fallacious seeming Drooping low, All the harvests mourn the wo. 90 yoice beyond the mountains !—harken ! Nature's awful bass is pealing ; Clouds the fair horizon darken, Over all the valley stealing — Up ! — prepare ! — There's a deluge in the air ! Now the distant woods awaken, Where the gusty wind is calling; Now the nearer trees are shaken^ And the great round drops are falling; Take the lane ! — There w^ill be a drenching rain ! Homestead ! — ours was very lowly, Rafters on the lattice pressing ; Yet, though humble, it seemed holy — For, when God sent down his blessing From the cloud, The old roof would sing aloud! With the past as memory mingles. Often yet mine ear is hstening For that anthem of the shingles!— Hopeful — till mine eye is glistening With this truth — Gone the music of my youth ! 91 11 A I N . Now descends the brimming fountain! Window, door and eaves are dripping ; O'er the pasture, up the mountain, Scannpering cattle soon outstripping — Onward yet — All the landscape drowning wet! Leisure now for jest and story, Village news, or song, or reading, Ballad tales of love and glory ; All the clattering storm unheeding, Let it poiu', — Cannot reach the old oak floor! Peace within that household ever ; Love's sweet rule each breast controlling ; Truth's high precepts broken never : What though clouds around are rolling — Let them roll — Theirs the sunshine of the soul ! Matchless painter ! — leaf and flower All their faded hues reviving ; How the garden drinks the shower, Life and loveliness deriving ; Grove and glade All in sprightly pearls arrayed. RAIN. E'en less mournful yon lone willow, By the churchyai 1 ever weeping ; And the daisies o'er each pillow Where the blessed dead are sleeping, Seem to say — We revive — and so will they ! Yonder, at the Inn, together Fast a wayside group collecting ; Much discourse of rainy weather, Idle almanacs rejecting, Boy and man Each predicting all he can. Hark the ring of happy voices ; Wagon from the school appearing; How each drowning imp rejoices, As the puzzled team go veering Gee, and haw. With the noisy load they draw. Slowly eventide advances , Fanny at the window reading, Slyly from the casement glances ;— Who the youth the storm unheeding, At the gate ? — Blushes Fanny— whispers Kate. 93 K A I N . Is he stranger worn with travel, Refuge from the torrent seeking ? Timid looks the doubt unravel, Looks all eloquently speaking ! Happy guest. With a welcome so confest ! Earnest he apologizes, From the mill in haste returning, (Ah, forgive young love's disguises. Though it rains, his heart is burning ;) He will stay Just a moment on his way. Now the motley barnyard nation, Cackling, lowing, neighing, squealing, Crowd at their accustomed station, For the evening fare appealing ; Hastens Ned, And the poor wet things are fed. Slowly spread the shades of even ; Night, on raven wing descended. Shuts the mighty doors of heaven ; And, the landscape's glory ended. Ends the Lay, Happy — ^lural — Rainy day, 94 SHO¥ER. In a valley that I know, — Happy scene! There are meadows sloping low, There the fairest flowers blow, And the brightest waters flow, All serene ; But the sweetest thing to see. If you ask the dripping tree, Or the harvest-hoping swain. Is the Rain! Ah, the dwellers of the town, How they sigh. How ungratefully they frown When the cloud-king shakes his crown. And the pearls come pouring down From the sky ! They descry no charm at all Where the sparkling jewels fall, And each moment of the snower. Seems an hour. 95 SHOWER. Yet there's something very sweet In the sight, When the crystal currents meet, In the dry and dusty street. And they wrestle with the heat, In their might ! While they seem to hold a talk With the stones along the walk, And remind them of the rule, To " keep cool !" But in that quiet dell, Ever fair, Still the Lord doth all things well, When His clouds with blessings swell. And they break a brimming sheii On the air ; There the Shower hath its charms Sweet and welcome to the farms, As they listen to its voice And rejoice ! 96 OUTALISSA. A TRADITION OF SENECA LAKE. Note.— [Seneca Lake, on which the town of Geneva is situ- ated, is perhaps the most picturesque sheet of water ia our State. It is about forty-one miles long, and two miles wide ; embellished with the most romantic scenery, and furnishing at every point fine subjects for the pen or for the pencil. The water rises and falls a few inches at regular intervals ; a pheno- menon not accounted for in this, nor observed in our other lakes. Dead bodies never float upon its surface, but its extreme trans- parency often reveals what, like a subtle murderer, it would never otherwise confess. A large tree has been floating up and down, from end to end of this beautiful lake, during many OUTALISSA. years, and it is now regarded with much interest by the anciejit dwellers of the neighborhood, from whom the writer gathered the wild tradition concerning it, which, in the following poem. be has endeavored to preserve.] OUTALISSA. The tempest gathering fierce and fast Darkly the welkin overcast ; The sun v,ras o'er the western hill ; And autumn winds blew chill ; The ominous melancholy owl Screamed to the prowling pantlier's howl The wolf lay lurking in his lair, Scenting the treacherous air. By Seneca, that wildly tossed,. A weary stranger, lone and lost, Pursued his dismal, dangerous way, Seeking a place to lay His fainting neart and aching head And slecD the slumber of the dead , 9ft OUTALISSA Fraying onl}^ that he might die Screened from each monster's eye. As sadly onward still he pressed, Deep anguish brooding in his breast, The last hope quenching in despair, — *' Yaiconiah ! — who comes there ?" A forest-voice demanded mild ! — " Peace to the wanderer of the wild ! Rest, stranger, — hide thee from the blast Till this drear night be past. In Outalissa's friendly cell, The white man shall securely dwell, Shall sit upon the welcome-seat, And share his children's meat.'' To where a taper dimly burned, The worn wayfarer fainting turned, And soon within the red man's door Slept, all his sorrows o'er. Went past the night, — went past the storm , The morning sun came bright and warm Adown on hill, and vale, and wood. Cheering the mighty solitude. 99 OUTALISSA. Where grew the sacred Council-Tree, Upon the verge of Outalee, The chieftain and the guest ascend, And free in social converse blend ; Beguiling still the toilsome way With kindest words that each could say, Till, from the summit's lofty crown. They on the scene below looked down, Far-gazing, as o'er half the globe, On nature in her fairest robe ; Old forests, dells, and silver streams. It seemed but Fancy's land of dreams, A glorious inspiring sight — A world all bathed in living light I But deeply now the patriarch sighed, And, o'er the lovely vision, cried " Alas, that these old eyes should see. Home of my sires, thy destiny ! Mark, stranger ! When these limbs are still. When Outalissa's heart is chill. When his fleet arrow flies no more By Seneca's wild mountain shore, Then this fair landscape shall be thine ; 100 OUTALISSA. The white man's sword these fields of mine Will stain with the poor Indian's blood ; Each rivulet will be a flood Swoll'n with our wives' and orphans' tears ' Ah, that these eyes should see those years .' That I, prophetic, should behold The wolf in my defenceless fold, And unavenged, foredoomed to die, My trusty warriors lifeless lie ! Oh stranger, that dark hour I see. Yet turns my heart in hope to thee ; Say, when the red man's hut shall blaze, And thy white brothers fierce shall raise The long, annihilating knife. Wilt thou protect my widowed wife ; My comely, dark-eyed daughter save From brutal hands, if not the grave. But ah, too much from thee I ask ; 'Twere e'en for me a mighty task, Though I were then as firm to be, And stalwart, as this Council-Tree : I would not, stranger, ask thee swear To see fulfilled a hopeless prayer, 101 OUTALISSA. But this one boon I joy to know Thou canst and freely wilt bestow ; Take this green branch, and o*er it bend, And swear to be the Indian's friend I Then thrice the stranger bowed him o'er The mystic misletoe and swore, *' By Manitou that hears me vow, By yon bright orb that sees me bow, By the deep lake beneath our feet, By heaven above, that marks deceit. And by this sacred Tree, whose shade A solemn council-hall is made, Eternal love to thee and thine Shall warm this grateful heart of mine !" " Enough !'* the aged Sachem said, And pensive drooped his silvered head ; Sad thougnts oppressed his heart, — he wept. Then leaned against the tree, and slept. Now noon was glowing on the hills, The herds were laving in the rills, The lake, rejoicing in its sheen, 102 OUTALISSA. Reflected all tlie golden scene, The sky was cloudless, and the breeze Came odorous o'er sweet-scented trees, 'Twas, near and far, a fair domain A monarch might be proud to gain. Then rushed upon the stranger's soul, Temptation dark, — 'tis but to roll The sleeping chief beyond the brink And all is mine ! — 'tis but a link That, breaking, I shall sooner buy What must be mine by prophecy. The spell had power I — Oh gratitude, Where then thy thunderbolts ! — he viewed The slumber deepening on' the eye, Watched the last, sad, foreboding sigh. Till all in quiet sleep were stilled, Then crept, a murderer, staunch and skilled. And the dread perjury falfilled ! The deed was seen in heavenj and swiil The Spirit-Senecas uplift Their vengeftd prayer: — Oh I Manitou f loa OUT ALISS A. That see'st o'er all the world below, And mark'st the ingrate, and deceit, Let flee the whhiwind from thy feet ! But e'er that prayer had reached the throne, The dire, avenging blast was down ! Clutched the foul wretch, and reft the tree That shadowed o'er the perjury, And instant, as the lightning's flash, Down, down the craggy steep the}^ crash ! Till from the jutting rock they take The last wild bound and reach the lake ! Th' astonished water hastes to hide The twain intruders in its tide ; Mid-depth they part,- — the villain white Sinks to the caves, — the tree, to sight Its way with swift ascension wins, And its long wandering begins. - The sires of Seneca are dead, A thousand moons have come and fled, Their hunting seasons all are past. Yet still that Council-Tree shall last. And as it journeys still complain — ** I SAW GREAT OuTALTSSA SLAIN !" 104 BLACKSMITH 8 NIOHT. Yet as from my low smithy now I gaze, Far to the envcs of his great shop sublime, Still seems his mighty furnace all a-blaze, Still seems to chime His ponderous anvil with t!ie sledge of Time. THE BLACKSMITH'S NIGHT. WELCOME hour wlien pc