\%^\ POEMS MATILDA, "I'OiiTA NASCITUU, WON FJT.'' RICHMOND; PRINTED BY COLIN, BAPTIST AND NOWLAK. 1851. \ Entered according to Act of Congress, ni the year 1851, By Rev. GEORGE W. NOLLEY, In the Clerk's Office of the Eastern District of Virsinia i TO THE REV.. GEO. W. NOLLEY, or THE VIRGINIA CONFERENCE, AS MY BEST FRIEND AND PATRON, Tins WORK IS RESPECTFULLY AND A F F E C T T O ?J A T F. L Y DEDICATED, BY THE AUTHORESS MATILDA, i;T?ArT, HILL. VIRfJINTA. PUBLISHER'S PEEFACE. The following Poems are from the pen of a Young Lady of Nelson County, Yirginia. She is emphati- cally the Poet of Nature. She received the visits, and imbibed the inspirations, of the Muses in early child- hood. She thought and felt in Poetry, long before she was able to write it. Unfortunately, her father died when she was about twelve years old, having given her the advantages of only about twelve months education, in a common school of the neighbourhood. Being the youngest child, and the latest embodiment of her father's earthly love, her deeply afflicted mother was unwilling to forego the pleasiire of her company, and sent her to school no further. Nevertheless, she continued to encourage the visits of the Muses, and, for the following six years, held almost incessant con^munion with them ; some- what through the medium of books, but more particu- I* VI PREFACE.. larly in the works of Nature ; in the waters of a beau- tiful river that washes the base of her native hill, in the wild mountain scenery that rises, in magnificence, from the opposite shore, and in the romantic hills and dells that surround it in every ather direction. It was the fortune of the Writer of this Preface, and tlie Publisher of this volume of her Poetry, to have been the first stranger who was allowed to examine her manuscripts to any extent. He enjoyed the happiness, a few years before, of seeing her converted to God, un- der his ministry ; and this circumstance may have con- tributed to the confidence with which he was permit- ted to look over her papers. He perceived, as he thought, that she possessed an extraordinary talent for poetry, and determined to en- conrage, and assist her as far as he could, in extending her education. For this purpose, he prevailed upon her to seek the advantages of the Buckingham Female Insti- tute, where she has been prosecuting her studies, with occasional attentions to the Muses, for the last eighteen months. The chief design of this Publication is, to enable her to complete her education, and the Publisher feels as- sured, that the friends of genius and literature will sustain him in the undcrfakiiiij. Indeed, ho is happy .PREFACE. Vll to State, that the Preachers of the Virginia Conference subscribed for fifteen hundred copies of this work, be- fore it was put to the press j and it was his original in- tention, with the approbation of the Authoress, to have it dedicated to them. But, in the meantime, he re- ceived an unexpected communication from her, in which she expressed a wish to dedicate it to him, as her best friend and patron; and the reader will perceive that she has done so. Nearly all the pieces in this volume have passed the criticism, and received the approbation, of the distin- guished and talented Editor of the Q,uarterly Review of the M. E. Church, South. His own numerous en- gagements would not admit of his attention to the whole. We have no fears, however, in regard to the character of any of tliem. We feel every assurance that their intrinsic merits, in connexion with the de- sign of their publication, will secure for them a ready and a rapid sale ; not only in Virginia, but also in the Southern and Western States, where, in the Periodicals of the Church, her Poetry has been extensively circula- ted, and no doubt, is very much admired. We have good authority for saying, that the learned and elo- quent Dr. Wightman, of the Charleston Christian Ad- vocate, considers her the "Queen of his Poets ; " and. VIM HRKFACE. such is his confidence in the excellence of her pieces, he hands them over to his compositor without exami- nation. Such also may be the case with Dr. Henkle, of the Nashville Lady's Companion. As to the colossian Editor of our own Richmond Advocate, he has manifested his appreciation of her genius, by putting her under his " editorial wing ; " where, we have no doubt, he will take good care of her. With these recommendations, we have no fears in regard to the success of this work ; and we shall be very much mistaken, if, at no distant day, the Public do not wish to see another volume from the gifted pen of our Authoress. In that event we shall hold ourselves in readiness, as heretofore, to give her any assistance in our power. Hoping, however, and believing, that the present Publication will give entire satisfaction, we leave the question of a second, to the developments of the fu- ture. GEO. W. NOLLEY. Jiir/iinntul, Vn.j Feb. 7, ISol. CONTENTS Poetry, ..... 1 The Phases of Woman's Life, 4 The SoQg of the Heavenly Harpers, 8 The Missionary's Bride, - . - 11 The Dying Missionary, 14 Farewell, ..... 17 To a Mother on the Death of her Infant, - 19 The Peaks of Otter, 22 Sabbath Morning, .... 25 The Parsonage, . . . . 27 We are Passing Away, ... 30 The Voice of the Lightning, 32 The Sweets of Life, 34 The Orator, .... 36 The Thunder Storm, - ' 39 The Last Dream, 41 Our Preacher, .... 47 The Departed, . r - - 49 The Voice of the Seasons, ... 51 On Reading the Works of Mrs. Hemans, - 55 The City of Silence, 57 The World is full of Beauty, 59 The Time to Die, - . . . GI The Storm King, .... 64 riesiirnniioii, . . „ > 67 C O N T E K T S . The Violet, ..... gg To the Memory of a Young Christian, . . 71 Twilight Musings, .... 74 " Where are They ?" .... 7(3 The Itinerant's Wife, .... 79 The Orphan's Lament, . . . . gl Peace of Mind, ..... §4 A Hope in Heaven, - - - . . 86 On being Compared to an Iceberg, - - - 88 My Mother's Love, ..... 90 The Two Lovers, ..... 94 I cannot say Farewell, . . . . gg I Love Thee Yet, ..... 93 The Dying Boy, ..... |oo Make to Thyself a Name, - . - - 1(1(5 To a Young Friend in Sorrow, . - - 109 Sing Again that Simple Strain, . - - m Thoughts on Immortality, . - . - 113 What It is to be Alone, - . - - 115 On Receiving a Sprig of Flowers, - - - 117 Name not the Dead, - - - - 119 The Voice of Evening Hours, ... 121 On Seeing a Young Lady Asleep, - - - 123 I Love the Night, - . - - - 125 Be Pleasant, - . . . . -127 The Love of the Heart, - . . - 1,30 To an Afflicted Mother, - . . - 132 The Welcome Home, . . . - 135 The Midnight Serenade, • . . - 136 " The Small Sweet Courtesies of Life," - . 138 The Missionary's Burial at Sea, ... \^i) I Am Not Alone, - . . . - 142 Sabbath Evening, - . - . - 11") The Shadows of (he Past. . - - - 117 The Balm of Disappointniini. - - . | jo Away to the Hills, - - - . |,-,(, C O N T ^; N T S . XI The Disappoioted Lover's Song, - - - 152 The Wandering Bird, - - - - 154 Do as You Would be Done by, - - . 156 Twilight Hours, . .... 153 The Mercy Seat, ..... 160 How Sleep the Dead ? - - - - 162 " Forget Me Not," ..... 164 To a Friend on his Marriage, - - - 167 Oblivion, 169 Wild Flowers, 171 Remember the Poor, .... 173 Sleep in Peace, - - - - - 175 Lines Written in Georgie's Album, - - 177. To a Loved One of Other Days, - - - 180 Let me Dream of Heaven, .... 182 Friendship, - - - - - - 184 The Sunbeams^ ... - . - 185 The Rainbow, - - - - - 187 " No Need of Prayer ?".-.- 189 An Epitaph for an Infant, - - - - 191 Home, 192 The Mute Lover, ..... 194 A Message by the Winds, - - - - 196 To a Group of Children at Play, - - - 198 The Voice of Death, - - - - 199 The Unseen Bliss of Heaven, - - - 202 The Exile's Death-Song, ... . - 204 The Rose and the Pink, - - . - 207 The Dying Mother, - .... 210 the World Wearied, 215 "I Laid me down and Slept," - - - 221 The Last Rose, 223 Bring Back the Past, ----- 225 "Love God and be Happy," - - - - 227 The Fireside, 229 Heaven, ...... 231 XII CON T K NTS. Bird of the Morniug The Broken Heart, The Mountains, A Sketch of Annie, Pulpit Eloquence, Guardian Aneels, 23-S 2'3i 235 238 240 243 The Irish Emigrant's Farewell, - - - 247 The Stranger's Grave, - - - - 250 The Captive Dove, ..... 252 A Sister's Love, ..... 254 " There's a Silvery Lining to every Cloud," - 25(3 The Saintly Girl, ..... 258 The Baptismal, ----- 261 The Wanderer to his Home, - - - - 263 For A— L— , To his Lady-Love, - - - 265 The Thorn-tree, - .... 208 The Stormy Winds, - .... 272 The Soaring Bird, .... - 275 The Dying Christian, - - ... 277 "Ne'er can My Heart be Thine," - - - 280 Byron's Despair, ..... 282 God's Witnesses, ..... 285 To Mr. K*****, On his Marriage, - - - 287 To My Sister Lucy, - - - - . 290 The Two Leaves, ----- 293 The Pliantom of Earthly Glory, - - - 298 The Shipwreck, ----- 302 POEMS. POETRY. O ! ASKEST thou for poetry ? Search not amid thy books, Go, wander through the deep green woods, And bend above the brooks ; Go where the winds are murmuring low, Go where the sparkling waters flow, And thou wilt find the pure, the free, — The bounding soul of poetry. O ! there is more of poetry In the sweet hymns of birds, Than all that Poets could ever breathe In all the chime of words ; p o ET nr . More music in one thrilling note, Soft-gushing from a Mock-bird's throat, Than e'er has flowed from minstrel's lyre. However warmed with hallowed fire. There is a world of poetry In flowers and trees and rills ; And stanzas of immortal song Are echoed through the hills ; The winds and waves, the bending grass That trembles where the waters pass ; The stars that twinkle in the sky • Are rich with heaven-born minstrelsy. The world is full of poetry, On every breeze it flies, It trembles on each azure cloud, That floats along the skies ; It glitters on the sunbeam's breast, It comes in night's dark mantle drest ; It fills the earth, the sky, the air — A spirit whispering everywhere. POETRY. O ! give the poetry to me, That dwells in Nature's store ; Give, give to me unwritten thought, I ask, I ask no more ; Give me the breath of flowerets fair. Give me the pure and balmy air. Give me the melody that springs From all of earth's created things ; — The voiceless music of the soul, The gushing hymn that spurns control ; I ask no polished thing of art, I ask the music of the heart. THE PHASES OF WOMAN'S LIFE. I SAW her in the morn of life, A gay and happy child, Her voice was like the Mock-bird's song, Her laugh was free and wild ; Joy sparkled from her dark blue eyes, And on her forehead white, Her golden locks in ringlets fell, All gracefully and bright. I saw her when a lovely girl, Just sixteen years had cast Their smiles and hopes upon her face, Since I beheld her last ; She was a gentle creature then, Her voice still free and wild, As when I heard it long ago. When she was but a child. THE PHASES OF WOMAN'S LIFE I saw her when her girlish glee, Had changed to maiden pride; A noble, good, and generous youth Was sitting by her side ; And softly as he breathed to her Love's fond and gentle vow, I saw the shadow of a shade Steal lightly o'er her brow. I saw her when, a blooming bride, She, at the altar stood. Her smiles were beaming through her tears. Like sunbeams through a cloud ; I saw her from the altar turn. Her cheek was passing fair. White as the glittering orange wreath, Tiiat bound her sunny hair ; Her brow was calm, and from her heart There came a smothered sigh, Like ripples on a sleeping lake, When night winds sweep them by. THE PHASES OF WOMANS LIFE I saw her wlieii a lovely wife, In all her beauteous bloom, She was the blossom and the light, The sunbeam of her home ; Her step was light, her smile was bright, Her voice still free and wild. As when I looked upon her first, When she was but a child. I saw her when a mother^s joy Was beaming from her eye. When love and care a garland bound Upon her forehead high ; A lovely boy was by her side. And one was on her knee ; They gazed upon her smiling face, And clapped their hands with glee. I saw her when she sadly knelt Beside a couch of death, And watched with all a mother's fears Her darling ijiftniCs breath. THE PHASES OF WOMAN'S LIFE She laid her hand in tenderness Upon the loved one's head, Then turned aside in agony, — Her darling boy was dead. I saw her when, with weeping eyes, She o'er her husband bent. As swiftly from his heaving breast The hot breath came and went ; The tell-tale pulse had ceased to beat. The warm heart ceased to thrill ; She knelt in prayer and murmured low, It is my Father's will. He died, as summer flowerets die, Scarce conscious of decay, Like the last lingering light that gilds The clouds at close of day. I saw her when they laid her down Upon the silent bier, And many heaved the throbbing sigh. And shed the bitter tear : 8 SONG OF THE HEAVENLY HARPERS. Low in the silent dust she sleeps, Free from all toil and strife, Till, startled from her dreamless rest, She wakes to endless life. THE SONG OF THE HEAVENLY HARPERS. " How long is it since Eternity has known an hour, in which was not heard the prelude of the heavenly harpers, ' they come, they come !' " [ Dasconi's Sermons. Hark ! from the portals of the skies, A joyous anthem peals, Through all the shining courts above. The melting echo steals ; SONG OF THE HEAVENLY HARPERS. 9 As angels, with their deep-toned harps, Bend from the heavenly dome, And shout, as millions enter there, Behold ! " they come, they come." From every nation, every clime, From every sea and laud. See, how in crowds, they enter there, United heart and hand ; From all affliction, pain, and grief, From sorrow, sin, and gloom. From all the toils and ills of life. Behold ! " they come, they come." " They come, they come," — the blood-washed band, From doubt and pain and woe ; They come to share these heavenly courts, Where sorrow is no more ; Here, not a cloud shall shade their brows. Their eyes ne'er shed a tear ; No anxious doubts can pain them now. No sorrowing hearts are here. 1* 10 SONO OF THF. HEAVENLY HARPERS " They come, they come," — long severed ones Are all united now ; They come, with wreaths of gladness twined Around each beaming brow ; They come with rapturous songs of joy, They come with gladness home, While Angels touch their harps anew. And shout, " they come, they come." THE MISSIONARY'S BRIDE. Her's was a high devotion, — That fair girl. In the fresh hour of youth forsaking all The friends who blessed her childhood — all the scenes To her so long familiar — leaving all The looks and smiles and voices she had loved With all a young heart's fervor, she went forth Among the thankless heathen, with one heart, One heart alone — to love her, and one hand To shield her in affliction. It was morn : The sun had risen brightly, and the skies Looked down serenely on the bright green earth That lay beneath it smiling. In a cot. Half hid in vines and clustering eglantines, And opening roses, and sweet jessamine flowers, A bride and bridegroom lingered as if bound By some enchantment to the hallowed spot — 12 THE iMISSIONARY's BRIDE. So loved from early .childhood. There were all The friends whom they had cherished, all the hearts That had been clustering round them with a love Undying in its nature. And the hour, The solemn hour of parting was to them An age of speechless sorrow. One by one They gathered round them, whispering farewell From lips that shook with anguish. And the bride, That fair young creature, going forth abroad Upon life's trustless ocean, stood amid That sorrowing group in silence. Not a tear Stole from her downcast eye-lids. Not a sigh Came from her swelling bosom. Brothers all, And friends, and sisters — all had said farewell ! And she had felt their hot tears on her cheek, — And yet she wept not. Her's was the still grief That scorneth to be uttered. She had breathed Farewell to all, save one, and that last one Was a devoted mother. She had watched Around her gentle being, like the sun That warms to life the flowerets, and her life Was linked with her existence. All their hopes THE missionary's BRIDE. 13 And joys had been commingled, till their hearts Seemed melted into one. But she was strong — Strong in the Rock of ages. With a smile Of high and pure affection she bent down And pressed her pale lips to the throbbing brow Of her fair child. " Go thou, my treasure, go," The mother softly whispered, " I have prayed For strength to bear this parting. Be thou strong And bear the cross with patience. I shall miss The mirthful music of thy silvery voice, And thy clear laugh, my Daughter, and thy smile So like a cheerful sunbeam in my home. And thy light step, my Fair one, will no more Be heard in my still chamber. But that God Who gave thee to my keeping — He who calls Thee onward to thy work — Yes, He will be Companion to thy mother." — It was done, The parting hour was over, and the Bride, With her high-placed affections, left her home — The glad home of her childhood. THE DYING MISSIONARY. Silently he lay With his dark eyes closed softly, and the tears, The warm tears pressed through the silken fringe Of their fast drooping lids. Upon his cheek Life's parting light was lingering, like the rays Of waning twilight. And his brow, though calm, Was pale and cold, beneath the dew of death. The breeze came through the lattice, bringing in The breath of summer flowers, and the heart Of the lone sufferer thrilled with joy intense. As lightly o'er his marble brow it strayed, And lifted the dark curls that clustered there. To his home, — The bright home of his infancy, his thoughts. Like swift birds had been wandering, and his eyes Beamed with a holy lustre, as he looked Upon the summer blossoms sweet, that threw THE DYING MISSIONARY. 15 Their fragrance in his chamber. And his smile Grew brighter, and still brighter as the sun Cast his last lingering beam upon his brow, And on the trembling curtain, which betrayed, By its slight motion, that the beating heart Was struggling hard for freedom. " Home, sweet home," He murmured soft .and slowly, " I would lay This throbbing brow upon my mother's breast. And thus go home rejoicing. But the will Of Heaven has not so ordered. I must die Far from my home and country — far from all The friends who blessed my boyhood — I go to My heavenly home with gladness, like a bird Rejoicing in its freedom. I have done The work that God appointed me to do ; Have finished all my labor — all my toil ; The battle's fought, — the victory almost won ; And angels gather round me, whispering soft. Come home, come home, thou faithful servant come, Thy Father's house is ready. Enter in, And live with him forever." 16 THE DYING MISSIONARY It was night, Tlie pale moon trembled in the dewy skies, And twinkling stars shone brightly, and the winds Breathed gently through the vine leaves, and the birds. The lonely night-birds, flattered on soft wings Around a faithful and a holy band, — A band of new-made christians, as they bore, With solemn chant, and slow and measured tread. Their voiceless teacher through the solemn wood, And laid him in the silent earth. The leaves. The quivering leaves, bent over his lone grave, Like trembling mourners. And the sighing winds, With pensive steps, stole round him as he slept, " The sleep that knows no waking." FAREWELL. I I've breathed " farewell," in other years, With careless heart and brow ; My heart is strangely altered since, I cannot do it now ; It thrills each chord within my soul, 'Tis like a funeral knell ; O let mine eyes their language speak, I cannot say, "farewell." They tell me when the lips move not, The heart more deeply feels. That gentler grows the load of grief. By every tear that steals ; / weep, but still a fresh despair Around my heart will swell ; We cannot hope to meet again. Yet dare not say, "farewell." 18 FAREWELL. . A moment longer, and we part ; Time flies, alas ! how fast ! One trembling pressure of the hand, One look — it is the last. It is our heavenly Father's will, And he does all things well ; In Heaven may we all meet at last, No more to say " farewell." LINES TO A MOTHER, ON THE DEATH OF HER INFANT Weep not, though Providence has snatched Thy lovely infant from thy breast ; Before thy Father's throne it stands. Among the saints a welcome guest. It scarce was folded to thy heart, With all a mother's pride and joy, Ere death appeared with blighting touch, Thy cherished idol to destroy. But though it sleeps in death's cold arms. Its soul has fled beyond the grave ; God called the spirit back to heaven. And took the fleeting breath Pie gave. 20 LINES TO A MOTHER. The death-pang rends no more its heart, Its spirit is unfettered now, The withering finger of decay, No more can blight its beauteous brow. Another voice has joined the songs, That echo sweetly through the skies ; Another form is gliding through The shining courts of Paradise. And wouldst thou win thy child from thence, From those bright realms of endless day, To cast its heavenly garments by. And wear again a robe of clay ? Wouldst thon recall its ransomed soul. From that eternity of bliss, To live, to sutler, and to feel The sorrows of a world like this? LINES TO A MOTHER. 21 O ! bear with resignation meek, The chastenings of thy Father's rod, Be joyful, for thou hast returned Thy child, an angel, back to God. Weep not, though from thy stricken heart, The dearest, sweetest tie is riven, A bud has fallen from thy breast To bloom eternally in heaven. THE PEAKS OF OTTER, SEEN AT A DISTANCE. Approach ! Has earth a fairer sight Than this bright hour displays, Did e'er a scene of deeper power Fall on a mortal's gaze! Behold those glorious lines of blue, Faint as a pcncil'd cloud, Soft as an angel's azure wing, Veiled in a heavenly shroud. Peak beside peak, in awful pride. Together, there they rest, With the last light of parting day. Reposing/ on their breast ; THE PEAKS OF OTTEK. 23 Oh ! they are beautiful, beyond Aught that my heart had dreamed ; Such scenes of loveliness before Ne'er on my soul had gleamed. Thou glorious Peak ! Could I but stand A moment on thy brow, To see the proud sun sink to rest. As he is sinking now ; To see the clouds beneath my feet. Tinged with his golden blaze, Oh ! such an hour were joy enough For all life's coming days. Thou hast been in my dreams by night, And through the busy day. Thy far-off image o'er my heart, In beauty's light doth stray ; I've longed to stand upon thy brow, With wishes deep but vain, And now my last, last hope is gone, 'Twere wrong to hope again. 24 THE PEAKS OF OTTER. Stand there, thou glorious monument, Of God's eternal might ; Stand thou, unchanged by changing years, Unbroken by their flight ; Age after age Eiround thy head, Their mantling robes have cast, But thou hast mocked at every change, That o'er thy form has past — And thou wilt stand unbroken there. Unaltered to the last. SABBATH MORNING. How proudly through yon azure field The bright sua threads his way, Dispensing o'er creation round The glittering beams of day ! The silken flowers of every hue Bend with the pearly drops of dew, That rest like diadems of light. On every bud and petal bright. Far up, on yonder mountain top A misty shadow lies. Soft mingling with the spotless blue That tints the glowing skies ; And yonder calm and quiet stream Glides, like the spirit of a dream, So lightly, that its muffled sound Scarce wakes a whispering echo round. 2 26 S A B U A T H M O H N I N C . Thro' the green boughs Ihc spring birds glance, And warble forth their laj's, Each sounding his divinest note To the Creator's praise ; Till rock, and tree, and mountain high, Are vocal with their minstrelsy ; Song answers song, till all around Is steeped in melody of sound. How glorious is the Sabbath day. With all its sacred hours ! There is a balm upon its breeze, A freshness in its flowers ; A beauty in its quiet rest, That calms the tumult of the breast : A voice in every dale and hill, That bids the troubled soul bo still. Thrice welcome, day of holiness ! Thrice welcome to this heart ! Sweet emblem of eternal rest, To me, to all thou art; THE PARSONAGE. 27 Oome with thy deep and noiseless hush, And let our thoughts together rush From earth's dull vanities away, To God's eternal Sabbath day. THE PARSONAGE. It is a sweet and pleasant spot. With green and graceful trees, Around it towering everywhere. Slow nodding to the breeze ; A spot with softly waving grass, Upon the spreading lawn. That- looks like emerald, when the sun Comes dancing there at morn. 28 THr. PARSONAGE. "Tis true it has no marble porch, No high and costly dome, No towering windows mark the place Where stands omv preacher's home ; Oar preacher's home ! no grandeur marks That oldeji tenement, But kindness, quietness, and love, And goodness and content. The birds go singing there at morn, As gay as birds can be, And make the sweet air wave and thrill, With their rich melody ; And busily the honey bees Fly through the clover bloom. And from their petals gather sweets, To grace the preacher's home. The green boughs bend above the roof, Most gracefully and low. And make long shadows on the porch, Rv swinging to niid fro ; THE PARS O^ AGE. 29 And round beneath the cottage doors, Sweet flowers are blooming free, Oh ! such a home as this would make The very home for me. I love that bright green spot of earth, That consecrated ground, It seems to me the breath of peace Is dwelling all around ; Around that little cottage home. All is so green and fair, It seems to me that sinful thoughts Could find no entrance there. I do not know what future years "May have in store for me ; I know not what my destiny In coming time may be ; But let it be what e'er it may, A life of pain or bliss, I only ask that I may have A peaceful homo like this. WE ARE PASSING AWAY. -When morning is breaking and darkness has fled, And the stars sink to rest in their fathomless bed, When the sun rises up from his glorious sleep, The bright world in beauty and gladness to steep, As soft o'er creation his golden beams stray, They speak to our hearts, " We are passing away." The dewdrops that fall from the blue sky above, To rest on the flowers and leaves in the grove, Like tears that steal soft from the angels' bright eyes. As they stoop to look down from their home in the skies, Each glittering drop in tlie wood seems to say, "Take warning, frail mortals, ye are passing away." WE ARE PASSING AWAY. 31 We are passing away when we look on the flowers That bloom in the brightest and greenest of bowers, We view them with feelings of joy and of pain, For we know when we enter the garden again, The sweetest among them will have gone to decay, And the dead leaves will whisper, '' We are passing away." When the birds are all soaring away from our clime. To find a warm sky, and a bright summer time, Where the soft breeze comes fresh from the beautiful sea, And the flowers spring up from the moss-covered lea, As they rise to their wings on their sunny bound way, They sing to our hearts, " We are passing away." We are passing away to the gloom of the grave. We are passing away on time's rapid wave ; Life's valuable moments are vanishing fast. And the present, ere long, will belong to the past. Then let us improve each momerit we stay ; For lo ! '' We are passing, we are passing away !" THE VOICE OF THE LIGHTNING. Away, away, over the bounding stream, Over the mountain tops and the liills I gleam, I crown, with a halo, the brow of night, And I fan the earth with my wing of light ; I dart my shafts at a guilty world, And mortals down to their graves are hurled. Over the ocean wave, and the forest high, Over the valleys deep, and the plains I fly ; I dance along on the Storm-king's breath. And fling from my bright bow the darts of death; I throw on creation my withering glance. And the frail earth trembles as I advance. THE VOICE OF THE LIGHTNING. 33 Ye scoffing ones ! And ye proud ! stand by, Ye shall see the glance of my piercing eye, Ye shall feel the touch of my burning wings, Ye shall own the power of the King of kings ; As I pass you by with my glittering sword, Ye shall feel in your hearts the strength of the Lord. Away, away, over the darkened sky. Through the trackless air, like a fiend, I fly ; The shivered tree and the broken mast. Will tell of my might when the storm is past ; And the blighted pine in the forest green, Will show where the tread of my foot hath been. Over the bounding waves of the rolling sea, My flight is onward, proud and free. In the valleys deep, on the mountain's crest, In the storm-cloud's bosom I pause for rest; And a flash of fire to the earth I bring, Make way for the bird of the burning wing. THE SWEETS OF IJFE. Sweet is the breath of summer flowers, When zephyrs glide along Through the green woods and shady bowers, In murmurs of sweet song ; Sweet is the whisper of the rill, And sweet the hum of bees, When, with glad Avings, they wander out Upon the flowery leas ; But sweeter far than purling rills, Or than the fragrant flowers. Are words of friendship, kind and dear. And smiles that answer ours. Sweet is the light of opening day, And sweet the rising sun. When stars from yonder azure sky, Are fading, one by one : THE SWEETS OF LIFE. 35 Sweet is the hour when evening spreads Her mantle o'er the earth, When loved ones, free from daily cares, Are gathering round the hearth ; But sweeter far than morning dews, Or than the starry showers, Are those, whose every hope and joy, Are ever blent with ours. Sweet is the rustling of the leaves, When summer winds pass by. When not a lowering cloud obscures The brightness of the sky ; Sweet is the minstrelsy of birds, Amid the shady grove, • When every tongue seems breathing forth The melody of love ; But sweeter far than singing birds. Or woods, or rills, or bowers, Are hearts of tenderness and love, That kindly throb with ours. THE ORATOR. He stood amid an anxious throng, His brow was pale and high, And melancholy was the light Of his dark searching eye — A trembling smile was on his lip, A smile of light and love, As if the thoughts that filled his soul Were gleaming from above. He spoke, and every lip was hushed, And every brow was raised. And every eye in that dense throng Upon the speaker gazed ; And every heart with rapture thrilled. To hear the words that fell. Like the mysterious voice that fills The murmuring ocean sliell. THE ORATOR. Not softer melts a bird's low song Upon the summer breeze — Not gentler dies that breeze away Among the trembling trees — Than came the words, the thrilling words, From his deep throbbing heart, And yet he knew not, gifted one ! The power of his high art. Now, like the sounding ocean surge, Came forth his burning words : Now, like the voice of many harps. Now, like the voice of birds ; Now, like the murmur of a lute. Or soft ^olian strings, When evening zephyrs pass them by And touch them with their wings. He was most gifted, yet his brow Had something of despair, Alas ! alas ! what could have left So much of sadness there ? 37 38 THE ORATOR. He spoke to me of earlier years, And trembled like a bird, When, 'mid the music and the mirth. The "stilly night" he heard. Ah ! he was sad, I knew it well, Tho' much he strove to hide The gush of feeling that swelled up His bosom like a tide ; Some memories sad'ning in his heart. Were wakened by that strain ; He smiled most sadly, but his smile Was deeply fraught with pain ; And then he turned aside, and — I — Ne'er saw his face again. I THE THUNDER STORM. T hear the muttering thunders roll, I see the lightnings fly, Like comets starting into life, Along the darkened sky. How beautiful ! how grand ! how bright ! How glorious ! how sublime ! My soul seems borne away from earth, Beyond the bounds of time. I love to stand in rapt delight, And see the lightnings fly, As if with darts of living fire, They sought to cleave the sky. 40 THE THUNDER STORM. Ill each electric flash I see God's majesty and might ; He rides upon the stormy wind And clothes himself with light. The fool has said, '• there is no God," But let him look on high, When through the air those lightning fires In wild confusion fly. When bursting thunder shakes the ground, And mighty forests nod Before the rushing of the winds, — He feels there is a God. THE LAST DREAM. It was a darkened chamber. Lightly moved The silent watchers round the Sleeper's bed, And gazed upon her Avith a love too deep, Too strong for utterance. Silently she lay In hushed and holy slumber. Soft and low The quick breath fluttered on her pale white lips Like a caged bird that struggles to be free From its close thraldom. Ever and anon A crystal tear from her fringed eyelids stole. And, like a dewdrop, trembled on her cheek, That lay in its dim beauty, as a leaf Shook by the rude breath of the summer breeze From the sweet lily's bosom, — lovelier in its fall Than in its early freshness. Rich, dark curls Lay on her snow-white pillow, shading softly The deadly paleness of her languid face ; They fell in graceful ringlets round her brow, 42 T H K LAST D K i: A M That, white as polished ivory, reposed In its calm beauty on one wasted hand, Which, through the ringlets of her dark hair, gleamed Like alabaster. Death, stern death was there, Upon that lovely Sleeper. Even there Upon that calm white brow and faded cheek, His signet he was sealing. Yet a smile — A smile of radiant beauty wreathed her lips. And joy was in her bosom ; for her dreams Were of her loved and lost ones. Night by night Their shrouded forms had gathered round her bed, With their low whispers calling her away To their veiled homes, far in the spirit land. Gently her lips moved With a scarce breathed murmur ; and the thoughts That long had filled her bosom now gushed forth In low and plaintive numbers. " From whence do ye come, ye shrouded band, From whence do ye come, ah ! say. Have ye left your homes in the spirit-land, Around my couch to stray ? THE LAST DREAM. 43 Ye are whispering memories of old, Ye are telling of other days, And I know, aye, I know, that you love me yet, By your long and earnest gaze. Say, where is your home, ye spirit band, Where rest ye when night has fled, Say where do you roam ? Ye pass away, And I hear not the sound of your tread ? I meet the glance of your loving eyes. And I hear each familiar tone, Bnt ah ! when I wake from my nightly dreams, I am startled to find you gone. I catch the gleam of your sunny brows As ye turn from my couch away, And I long to gaze on your forms again, But ye Avill not, ye will not stay. 44 THE LAST DREAM Prom whence do ye come, ye fairy ones, When ye people my dreams at night ; Do ye come, do ye come from the world above, From the glorious land of light ? I know that ye live, but I know not where, Ye gentle and holy hand! Oh ! guard me, still guard me, ye blessed throng 'Till I enter the spirit land."' * Closer round her bed The bright throng gathered, and with earnest eyes They gazed far down into the Dreamer's soul With more of joy than sorrow. Soft and low Her plaintive lay they answered. And their songs, Unheard by mortals, pealed along the skies In sweet and tnnefnl echoes. " Dreamer we are ever near you, Watching you with earnest eyes, Bending, with our love unaltered. From the portals of the skies. THE LAST DREAM. 45 Fondly we have gathered round you, Whispering to you through the night, With our low and solemn voices, Holy dreams of joy and light. Loved one ! we are v/ith you ever, In your thoughts we love to stray, Breathing to you hopes of Heaven, Where all tears are wiped away. Life with you is almost over, Your departure is at hand. We are waiting now to lead you, Upward to the promised land. There, no doubt, nor pain can reach you, There no lowering cloud shall come. Heaven is opening to receive you. Suffering one ! Come home, come home." 46 THE r. A S T DREAM. A change passed o'er the quiet Dreamer's brow, A change like morning bright'ning into noon, A smile of rapture played upon her cheek, And lighted up her face with such deep joy, That human love, with breathless awe, bent down In holy admiration. One brief cloud Of untold anguish o'er her features swept — One bitter moment. And the Dreamer slept The "sleep that knows no waking." She had passed From time into eternity. OUR PREACHER. We miss him at the evening hour, When all around is still ; When Phoebus sheds his last faint rays, Upon the western hill ; When o'er the sky the silvery moon Steals gently on her way ; We miss him from the Bible-stand Where he was wont to pray. We miss him from the fire-side When' cold the bleak wind blows, When on the hearth, the sparkling fire In cheerful splendour glows ; When eyes are beaming tenderly. And words are kind and sweet. We miss our much loved Preacher then From his accustomed seat. 48 OUR P R K A C H E R . We miss his kind and gentle words. His soft and winning ways ; We miss the sunlight of pure bliss That on his features plays ; We miss the smile we loved to see, Soft stealing o'er his cheek ; We miss the truths — tlie sacred truths, Our Preacher used to speak. We miss him when the morning light, Spreads gently o'er the skies ; We miss him through the busy day, In sadness and in sighs : But oh ! when done with earthly things, May we our Preacher meet, All gathered with the angel-band, Around our Father's feet. THE DEPARTED. Oh ! where are those who have passed away ? Can the dead, can the dead forget ? The kind, the true, and the gentle ones, Do they love, do they love us yet ? f Do they look from above with tlieir eyes of love, To WEARIED. 219 I'm weary of this heavy clay That fetters down my wings, I long for freer, higher life, A purer fount of bliss, I long for that bright world, where love Is holier than in this ; Earth ! earth ! thou hast not much to bind My spirit to thee now. In vain thy jewelled fingers twine Rich garlands 'round my brow ; I turn with weariness from all Thy joys, I would depart, I would mount up to higher scenes And join the pure in heart." He ceased, and in his dark soft eye A deeper radiance shone. And a calmer mood of melody Dwelt in his manly tone ; A softer look was on his brow, And on his moulded cheek 220 THE WORLD W E A R I K D . Were written thoughts that mortal tongue May never, never speak ; He seemed a glorious spark of life Prom earth's wide orbit riven, His thoughts were all unlinked from ours, And fixed alone on Heaven ; World-wearied Pilgrim, turn like him From all life's gilded toys. And seek for treasures where no rust. Nor cankering worm destroys. "I LAID ME DOWN AND SLEPT, I AWOKE, FOR THY HAND SUSTAINED ME." Amid the stilly hours of night, In quiet rest I slept. While thy sustaining arm, O Lord ! My soul in safety kept. Thine angels round me hovering stood To whisper dreams of bliss, Dreams of a happy land of rest. Far from the ills of this. I woke, for thy sustaining hand, Was still beneath my head. And morning o'er my waking hours, Its holy incense shed. 222 I LAID ME DOWN AND SLEPT I see the wonders of thy hand In every flower and tree, And marvel that thou shouldst behold A worm so frail as me. Thy mercy, everlasting Lord, Has led me on thus far. Beneath thy all protecting hand, Thy children need not fear. Help me to love as thou dost love, My fierce and bitter foes, Teach me to hide another's faults And heal another's woes. Teach me to fly alone to thee In sorrow and distress, Teach me to love and praise thee more And love my idols less. THE LAST ROSE 223 O ! bind around the sacred cross, Each wandering thought of mine, Let me forget my stubborn will, And yield, with joy, to thine. THE LAST ROSE. The last rose is fading, Its beauty has fled. Its leaves are all withered And drooping and dead. But still, a sweet fragrance Is stealing around, Though its beautiful petals Lie low on the ground. 224 THE LAST ROSE 'Tis falling, 'tis falling. That beautiful rose, To slumber forever In dreamless repose. Each breeze that sweeps o'er it Seems sadly to say, " The last rose of summer Is passing away." 'Tis thus that we blossom, 'Tis thus that we die, We bloom with a smile, And depart with a sigh. But like that sweet rose. May we leave in each heart, A record of worth That shall never depart. BRING BACK THE PAST. " Call them, let me see them." [ Shakspeart;. Bring back the past, I fain would see The faces that I loved of yore, Bring back the friends who used to be My playmates long, aye, long ago ; I know them well, — those who belonged To our familiar household band, I knew them well, — those who have thronged The portal to the spirit land. Bring back the past, the varied past, With all its hours of grief and pain, I'd bear the tempest's wildest blast To taste its hopes and joys again ; 10* . ^26 BRING BACK T U F. PAST. Ah ! brighter flowers have bloomed for me Than uU the future can l)esto\v, The rose is gone, and now I see Ten thousand thorns around me grow. Bring back the past to me once more, And though, alas ! no longer mine, I would review the number o'er Of those I loved in " Auld lang syne ;" Oh ! call them back, e'en though they bring The shroud, the coffin, and the pall, Let not oblivion's brooding wing Around their sacred memories fall. Bring back the past, for there are friends And hopes, and joys, all buried there, The bright smile with the tear-drop blends, And holiest memories there appear ; Roll back thy tide, thou sea of time ! And bring me back the lost once more, Bring back my childhood's sunny hours ^nd all the joys of "long ago." "LOVE GOD, LOVE TRUTH, LOVE VIRTUE, AND BE HAPPY." [ POLLOK. " Love God,''^ while youth is on thy brow, And joy is in thy heart. Love God with all thy powers now. Ere youth's bright dreams depart ; He claims from thee thy heart, thy all. Oh ! let the boon be given, Give God thy heart, and thine shall be Eternal life in Heaven. " Love trutli,''^ her hand will guide thee safe Thro' life's tempestuous wave, Her light will be a lamp to lead Thy footsteps to the grave ; 228 LOVE n o D . Her arm will bear thee up thro' all Earth's ever dark'ning cares, While blackened error " falls and dies Amid her worshippers." " Love virtue" hold within thy breast, Her pure and sinless name, Oh ! leave her not, to tread the paths Of folly and of shame ; Her steps will lead thee to that land Where joys no more depart. Where sin and grief no more can come To touch the pure m heart. " Be happy," mercy every day Upon your path descends, God gives to you all needful things, He gives you health and friends ; He bids you come to him and dwell Among the sainted blest, "Love God, love truth, love virtue, and Be happy" in that rest. THE FIRESIDE. The "fireside!" what a mystic spell, What magic in that word doth dwell ! The sailor boy, far, far from home, As bounding o'er the ocean foam The noble ship is sweeping fast. Like a proud bird before the blast. Back to his home his thoughts will glide, Back to his own loved "fireside." He sees his father's brow of white. He sees his sister's eye of light. He sees again his mother's face. And feels, once more, her fond embrace ; He sees again his brother's form, Like sunlight glancing through the storm. And in the bounding billows wide. He sees again his "fireside." 230 THE FIRESIDE. The warrior rushing o'er the plain A moment drops his bloody rein, And sends his thoughtful spirit back O'er life's long, bright and beauteous track : He sees again his mother's eye. He hears again her heaving sigh, When, on his cheek, her hot tears fell. And soft she whispered, '' Son ! farewell ;" He sees again his sister's tear, He sees his father's brow of care. And fondly back his thoughts will glide To that loved spot, the " fireside." When storms are gathering o'er our way. When every joy has passed away. When fortune frowns, and friends are few, When those we loved have proved untrue, Oh ! then, how sweet, to turn aside To our loved home and " fireside." HEAVEN. / When o'er our pathway, dark and chill, Life's lowering clouds are driven, How sweet it is to look and find A cordial for the troubled mind, A soothing calm in Heaven^ ^When from our hearts, like blossoms bright. The dearest ties are riven, How sweet to find on Jesus' breast A holy calm, a sacred rest, A blessing sent from Heaven. I When we have tasted sorrow's cup Which God has wisely given, How sweet it is to look on high. And see with faith's illumined eye The kind concern of Heaven. 232 HEAVEN. / And when upon life's latest hour We stand through Christ forgiven, How sweet the hope of meeting those Who slumber now in hushed repose, All landed safe in Heaven. Lord ! let thy billows and thy clouds "" Across my track be driven, But let me find my bark at last Far, far beyond this dangerous coast At rest with thee in Heaven. Let sorrow, suffering and distress To me be freely given. What God appoints I gladly bear, 'Twill soon be o'er, we know there are No sufferinsr hearts in Heaven. BIRD OF THE MORNING. Bird of the morning ! Thy beautiful lays Carry me back to life's earlier days, Back to the years when no sorrow was mine, When, like the ivy that encircles the pine, Fondly my heart in its gladness would cling. Closely and firmly to each beautiful thing. Bird of the morning ! Sing on in thy glee, Holy and sweet is thy music to me, Soft as the dew drops, it falls on my breast, Lulling its griefs and its sorrows to rest, Calming the fears of my desolate heart, Bidding its clouds and its shadows depart, Taking me back to the days that are gone, Bird ,of the morning ! Sing on, sing on ! THE BROKEN HEART. / There's an hour when the heart like a delicate vine, Encircles the nearest and tenderest things, And fondly and firmly through sunshine and storm. Around its loved shelter tenaciously clings ; But, Oh ! when the tendrils that bound it are crushed, When the tempest has severed the delicate chain, It droopeth away from the spot it had loved, And falls to the earth, ne'er to flourish again. [Thus, the heart that is broken by cruel distrust, Shrinks back from the place where its tendrils once grew,— ^li^^ A"**-*^ And droops like a floweret, when wholly bereft Of the light of the sun, and the strength of the dew : THE MOUNTAINS, 235 The smile may seem joyous, the eye may be bright, And the brow wear no trace of a lingering care, But the All-seeing Eye that looks down on the heart, Knows well that a blight and a shadow are there. ^^»^ THE MOUNTAINS. '' Thanks be to God for the mountains." {HowitVs Book of the Seasons. The mountains ! aye, the mountains ! How beautiful they rise, In dark and awful grandeur, Against the azure skiesj. 236 THE MOUNTAINS. There's a beauty in each lofty crag. A majesty subHme, That scorns the mildew of decay, And mocks the flight of time. Man's proudest works have crumbled, And fallen to decay. And empires have departed, Like fleeting winds away ; Thrones to the dust have fallen, Proud kings have lived and died, And kingdoms strong have tottered down. In spite of all their pride. But ye have stood the test of time. Ye mountains ! high and proud. Ye stand unmoved in the trackless air, Each clad in a mystic shroud ; There shall ye stand through time, Untouched by dull decay. Till Heaven and earth shall disappear, Like a meteor's flash away. THE MOUNTAINS. How many holy memories Around the mountains throng ! How many deeds enacted there Have been embalmed in song ; But when the bard's sweet numbers No more on earth shall thrill, The high and holy mountains Will tower above us still. From Sinai's shrouded summit To Calvary's blood-stained sod, Where died for our transgressions, The spotless Lamb of God ; The chain of memory circles Around each sacred spot, And through eternity to come, They shall not be forgot. Stand, stand, yo " sacred mountains !" Stand in your beauty grand, Stand ye as glorious monuments Of the Almighty's hand ; 337 238 A SKETCH OF ANNIE. Tell all the world around you, O ! publish it abroad, '' Earth, with her thousand voices," Sends praises up to God. A SKETCH OF ANNIE. She is a thing of joy and mirth, The beauty of unconscious worth Hangs o'er her like a golden spell, And mantles all her faults so well. That even were she vain and proud, As some in envy have avowed. One look upon her features gay. Would chase such evil thoughts away. A SKETCH OF ANNIE. 239 She's like a bird in summer time, That gladdens nature with its chime, Her merry tones, now soft, now high. Now like a zephyr floating by ; And when her song falls on your ear, You think of an embodied sphere. Sent down on wings of light and love. To sing as angels sing above. Upon her young expressive face, There is a world of truth and grace, And in her blue and sunny eyes An ocean of affection lies, Deep, pure, and still, like stars at night. They sparkle with unearthly light. And from her lips such kind words fall, As bring a joy to gladden all. / Oh ! she is good, and pure, and kind. With manners gentle and refined, With such a sweet and earnest face. So full of tenderness and grace, 240 PULPIT ELO(iUENCK. Now like a sunbeam, now a shade, So merry, and withal so staid ; — Such is our darling little Nan, Now match her, ladies, if you can. PULPIT ELOaUENCE. [A MEMORY OF THE ReV. L******* R,*****^ OF THE Virginia Conference.] Soft as the distant murmur of a rill, In rich deep music from his glowing lips, Fell words of burning eloquence. Now low, Like the faint whisper of a zephyr's breath. PULPIT ELOQ,UENCE, 241 So still, so deep, so holy, that it seemed Like the sweet echo of an angel's lute Around us gently stealing. Then again, His rich full voice came pealing, like the tones Swept from a thousand harp-strings, bringing thoughts Of wild unearthly beauty, clothed in words Of thrilling power. Like gems of light And precious jewels from the bending skies. They fell in sparkling showers upon our hearts, And waked ten thousand glowing visions up That long had slumbered there. ! I have thought That the sacred eloquence which stole Around us then, re-echoed through the skies, In all their shining courts and glittering domes, Until it reached the very throne of God, And brought from thence a blessing on the flock Who waited to receive it. Go on, go on, thou holy man of God ! For thee there is a crown, — a rich reward Laid up in Heaven. So walk that thou mayst wm Life everlasting in that belter land, 11 242 PULPIT ELOQUENCE. Where comes no pain nor parting. Oh ! be strong, Resist the world. Turn, — from its homage turn. Its honours seek not. To thy God belongs All might and glory. Be thou stayed on Him, And when before Him thou art called to hear The final sentence, mayest thou feel and say, " / WAS NOT VAINLY GIFTED." GUARDIAN ANGELS. [Suggested by hearing a Sermon from the Rev. G***** \V. L********, of the Virginia Conference. ] They guard us well, These holy messengers of God our King, In the Avide world wherever we may dwell, Around our paths, their sheltering arms they fling. Where dangers rise. And hope has almost vanished, then we hear Their spirit-whispers from the far off skies, Or from the viewless air ; " soul do not fear." When pain and grief Comes o'er us like a tempest, and our hearts Seek round and round in vain for some relief, Their still small whisper sweetest peace imparts. 4» 244 r; u A R D I A N a n n f. i< s . Ill the still night When darkness gathers o'er us like a cloud, They watch our slumbers with their eyes of light, Whispering sweet dreams as round our beds they crowd. And some there are, — The loved and lost, and gentle ones ol" ours, Who may be gathering with that bright throng there, Filling our hearts with thoughts like starry showers. O ! tell me not Our loved ones are not M'ith us day by day, Methinks they guard us, we are not forgot By all our kindred who liave passed away. They who have wept When grief had cast its mantle on our brow, They wlio have round us nightly vigils kept, Think you, O! think you, they forget us now GUARDIAN ANGELS. 245 Think you that love So pure, so holy while it dwelt below, Will not be brightened in the world above, Where earth's dark dreams can sadden us no more ? I love to dream That angels are around me, to recall The names of the departed ; it doth seem That I am watched and guarded by them all. Ye spirit band ! Still guide me through my pilgrimage below, And lead my footsteps to the better land, Where all the spirit's weariness is o'er. No night is there, No lonely watching by the bed of death, No broken sigh, no look of keen despair, No painful listening for the parting breath. 246 GUARDIAN ANGELS. No fear, no dread, No last farewell, no clasping of the hand With vain regret, no tear, no parting tread. Can mar the pleasures of that glorious land. Oh ! guard us home, Ye holy messengers of God ; our steps attend, Through life's dark vale of bitterness and gloom, Up to that land where joy shall never end. And when we meet Around our Father's throne, all face to face, With what deep rapture will our spirits greet The throng who led us to that happy place ! A few more years, And we will join them in the spirit land, Where God himself shall wipe away our tears. And bid us welcome to that Angel Band. THE IRISH EMIGRANT'S FAREWELL. Farewell! farewell! my native land, I leave, I leave thee now, I leave thee, but no eye shall see A shadow on my brow ; They shall not know the pangs I feel. They shall not know that I Am weak enough to drop a tear. In biddmg thee good bye. Yet 'tis not weakness, no, oh no ! To weep o'er things I leave^'^ For thee, my native land, for thee Ten thousand bosoms grieve ; For thee ten thousand hearts do mourn. For thee unnumbered cries Go upward from thy toiling sons. Like incense to the skies. 248 THE IRISH K Jr I O U A N T ' S FAREWELL This hour divides iny heart from all That makes this world so dear. This hour I break each fettering chain That binds me captive here ; I leave thee, Erin ! with a heart Proud as thy winds and free, I leave thee with a soul that scorns Thy servile slavery. Oh Erin ! thou wilt yet be free, Our prayers will yet be heard, And thou wilt from thy thraldom 'scape, Like an unfettered bird ; Too long, too long the tyrant's yoke Has bowed and humbled thee, The hour for thy relief draws near, Thou shall, — thou shalt be free. There is an hour when I may come, A freeman to thy shores, An hour when I may rest at home. Triumphant o'er thy foes ; T H K IRISH emigrant's F A R K W E L L . 249 And those who whisper farewell now, May shout a welcome then ; Oh Erin ! famt not in the hope, Thy sons are valiant men. Farewell my Erin ! Fare thee well, A brighter day appears, A day of victory will be ours, Baptized in blood and tears ; A day, when those who bow us down By proud oppression now, May stand before us, conquered then. With humbled heart and brow. 11* THE STRANGER'S GRAVE. Alone, alone, on the cold dark earth, In the winter hour they found him, And they laid him down in the friendly grave, With his pilgrim cloak aronnd him ; No mourner came to the lonely spot. Sad tears of sorrow weeping, None knew the name of the pilgrim lone, As he lay on the cold ground sleeping. His grave is far from his native home, Where the wild deer's feet are bounding, And the wailing winds, with their voices deep, Through the dark dim woods are sounding ; No loved one comes to that lonely place To scatter flowers above him, For he sleeps afar from his own green land, And the friends who tised to love him. THE stranger's GRAVE. 251 He dreams no more of his early home, Of the love that used to bless him, He thinks no more of his father's face When bending to caress him ; He sees no more in his wandering dreams, His mother — vigils keeping, As he lay at night on her holy breast In peaceful stillness sleeping. O ! wake him not from his dreamless rest, Let your step be light around him, Ye know not, how many cords of love. To this changing life once bound him ; Tread lightly there, for soon, aye, soon, You may fall like him ; there's danger ; And some may point to your mound, and say, ^'Behold the grave of a stranger.''^ THE CAPTIVE DOVE. How can I keep thee pining here In thraldom day by day, When thou art sighing to depart On thy bright wings away ? I bend above thy little form With tenderness and love, And yet thou art the same sad thing, My little captive dove ; Still pining for the bright green hills And yon blue sky above. And yet, I fain would hold thee here, For Oh ! when thou art gone, My spirit will be very sad Thou little meek-eyed one : THE CAPTIVE DOVE. 253 Why was my heart so formed for love ? For, prize whate'er I may, My idol changes into dust, Or vanishes away ; And with a stricken soul I stand To see their swift decay. I must not keep thee, for I know I'll love thee but too much. And thou wilt feel, like all things else, Time's cold ancT blighting touch ; And thou wilt die and leave me too. Like all things that I love ; I must not, cannot, keep thee here ; Go then, my Captive Dove ; Away, away to yon green hills, And thy blue home above. A SISTER'S LOVE. f There is a joy that gladdens life, A balm that soothes its vexing strife, A light that gilds our cloudiest way. That turns our darkness into day, That gives a fragrance to the hours. Sweet as the breath of summer flowers That gladdens us where'er we move — It is, it is, a sister^s love. / The friendship of the world departs And leaves strange shadows on our hearts. Dark ghosts that whisper of the past. That tell of vows that could not last, Of friendship's bright, yet broken chain, Of hearts that cannot love again ; But none, aye, none of those we prove In this sweet boon, a sister^ s love. A sister's love. 255 f A sister's love ! O ! every thought Is with this pure affection wrought, The whispering winds, the waving limbs, The night-bird warbling forth his hymns, The distant sound of purling rills, The guardian spirit of the hills, All bring to me where'er I rove. The memory of a sister'' s love. . A sister^^s love ! it gladdens life. It is a balm for pain and strife, A lamp to gild the clouds that lie So often on our wintry sky, A flower, whose fragrant breath imparts A holy gladness to our hearts, A boon of beauty from above. Is this sweet gift — a sister's love. '' THERE'S A SILVERY LINING TO EVERY CLOUD." O ! WE know not, we know not, what future joys May spring from the shadows that 'round us crowd, The sun shines brightest just after the storm, " There's a silvery lining to every cloud." Our pathway may teem with a thousand thorns. But deep in the shade of the leaflet's green. The holy flowers with their dewy eyes. Looking up from their delicate beds are seen ; And the humblest flower has the sweetest breath, Which it yields more sweetly when deepest bowed, And we feel as we trample it down in death, "There's a silvery lining to every cloud.'' SILVERY LINING TO EVERY CLOUD. 257 And though our pathway, here, is a thorny one, And our hopes all fade like the light of even, Yet we look with faith upon the lowering cloud Whose " silvery lining" is seen in Heaven ; Let us bear with meekness, the gloom it flings O'er our spirits here, it will soon be past, Though dark to us now, it will brighten soon, And turn to "a silvery" cloud at last. There's a mournful shadow upon my heart, And a dark, deep shadow upon my brow, And a darker cloud over the future hangs, And saddens my life with its denseness now ; But the bright bow of promise is arching the skies. It is folding its wings "round the gloomy shroud, And I feel, O ! I feel, though my pathway is dark, " There's a silvery lining to every cloud." THE SAINTLY GIRL. I met her on a festal night, The winter winds were loud, And o'er the dark and lowering sky Hung many a dismal cloud ; She was the fairest of the throng, The brightest and the best. No care had ever touched her soul Or marred her spirit's rest ; And yet a mournful shade, methought, Was on her pensive breast. She was most beautiful, her cheek Was like the snow-flake white, And in her melancholy eye. There was a dewy light, — THK SAINTLY GIRL. 259 A dewy light that won the soul And melted it to tears, Aye ! melted it with hopes of her, Half blended into fears ; — , That shadows, dark and desolate, Would shroud her coming years. I marked her, as with silent step, She moved amid the throng. Or paused with brightening eyes to hear The music of some song That warbled out from beauty's lip, And charmed the listening soul, Until the voice of melody O'erraantled all her soul, And like a spirit, tenderly Around her being stole. Her cheek was like a snowy cloud Across the blue sky driven. And oh ! her sweet eye spoke to me, Far less of earth than Heaven ; 260 THK SAINTLY GIRL. I Stood entranced, and looked into Her dark and dreamy eyes, And thought how lovely she would be An angel in the skies, — An angel, where the love of hearts No longer droops or dies. But she is gone, that Saintly Girl, She died in early Spring, When leaves were quivering in the breeze And flowers were blossoming ; When birds were singing in the wood And every thing looked gay. That fair young being like a gleam Of moonlight passed away, Away from all beneath the skies. To shine in endless day. THE BAPTISMAL. With high and holy faith, The mother brought her Infant ; and, with prayers Of deep and earnest fervour, she offered up Its young and sinless being unto Him, By whom its life was given. Like a bird It lay upon her bosom ; its soft eyes Were veiled in holy slumber, and its lip Was wreathed with smiles, as if its dreams Were filled with forms of heavenly beauty. Its young heart Beat lightly 'gainst the mother's, as she pressed Its form softly to her own, and, with tears And fervent prayers, looked up. And gave her infant to the man of God Who waited there to bless it. 262 THE BAPTISMAL. Soft and low- Were the deep words he uttered, as he touched The infant's brow so exquisitely white, With the baptismal water. And his face Was lighted up with joy, as he gave It back to its mother's arms again. And knelt in supplication at the feet Of the Almighty Maker ; and there went up From that kneeling multitude one prayer, One universal prayer from countless hearts, To the high seat of Mercy, that the child Might be through life, as spotless aud as pure As the bright water that had touched its brow, Blessed by the Lord's anointed. It was done, The high vow had been taken, which was sealed, — Sealed in the sight of angels. And she turned, That pure young mother with her precious child, Turned from the good man's presence, where with heart, And soul, and spirit, her Fair Boy, To Heaven she had consecrated. THE WANDERER TO HIS HOME. My own bright home ! I have thoughts of thee. In the deep dark wood, on the mountam free, 'Mid the desert wide, on the ocean deep, Where the bounding billows in beauty sweep, And the sea-bird floats o'er the waters dark. And sings a dirge to the buried bark, And dips her wing in the boiling foam ; There, there, I have thoughts of thee my home, And my spirit flies o'er the dark blue sea. To my friends, my own heart friends, and thee. I can see the lawn where I used to run. And the trees, I can number them one by one, I can see the hill, and the rippling tide, With the light canoe, where I used to ride, And the willow branches that over it fell. And the flowers that gladdened the woodland dell ; 264 THE W A N D E K E H TO HIS HOME. And I hear the birds as they wander by, With their glad notes floating along the sky, And I see my cottage all bright and fair. And the blossoms that grew in their beauty there, But a voice comes booming across the deep, " They are all departed ! " and I wake to weep. The dream is gone, I can see no more My beautiful home on the distant shore, The dark deep sea with its sparkling foam. Divides me away from my own bright home. And its garden walks, they are not for me, Another's eye will their beauty see. Another's hand will the blossoms twine, Those beautiful blossoms that once were mine. And strangers will list to the lute-like songs From the forest birds, Oh ! my bosom throngs With memories wild of my home afar, As it looks through the shadows, my life's first star. FOR A L , TO HIS LADY-LOVE. ' IF I were a blossom, would bloom upon thy way, I'd touch thy flowing mantle With my lips so soft and gay ; 1 would hang upon thy bosom, I would press my cheek to thme, And thy balmy breath should mingle Its soft perfume with mine ; And with thy slender fingers, Thou would'st twine me in thy hau', Then I'd hide among thy ringlets And sleep in silence there. Or, — if I were a zephyr, A balmy zephyr now, I would brush aside the ringlets That cluster on thy brow ; 12 266 FOR A, L. TO HIS LADY-LOVE 1 would search tlie orange blossoms. I would sweep the citron tree, And gather up sweet fragrance, To sacrifice to thee ; And with my downy pinions, I would fan thy cheek of snow, Till thy rosy lips should bless me, Wherever I might go. Or, — if I were a lute-string, Or a music-breathing bird, My songs should always 'round thee, By day and night be heard ; I would perch upon thy pillow, When thine eyes were closed in sleep. And my wings with dew-drops shining, O'er thy lovely brow I'd sweep ; And I'd glide around thee daily With my heart -hymns soft and free, O ! if I were a song-bird. How much I'd sing for thee. FOR A. L. TO HIS LABY-LOVE. 267 Or, — if I were a sunbeam, I would brighten all thy way, And not one dark'ning shadow Should o'er thy bosom stray ; I would nestle on thy forehead, I would flit among thy curls, Till every hair of thine should look As if 'twere strung with pearls ; I would chase all darkness from thee, I would make thee glad and gay, And I'd wake the brightest blossoms, To sparkle on thy way. But if I were an angel, I would do all blessed things, I'd flit about thee all day long, And fan thee with my wings ; I would keep thee in all places, I would guard thee night and day, And nought should harm thy spirit, Or take thy peace away : 268 THE THORN TREE. And in death, I'd hover near thee With deep unchanging love, And I'd bear thee on my pinions. To the "better land" above. THE THORN TREE. It was the hour when fancy's Iiand Her richest garland weaves, The rain was over, and the winds Lay cradled in the leaves ; The wild birds warbled forth their lays, From every drooping spray. And on the sky the massive clouds, Like snow-wreaths shining, lay : THE THORN TREE. 269 The blossoms dripping with tlie rain, Hung down their petals fair, And breathed their sweetest fragrance out Upon the summer air. I sat within a vine-clad porch, A friend was at my side, Who, with a smile of calm content, The scene before him eyed ; Said he, as earnestly he looked Upon the spreading lawn, And glanced, with very sage contempt, At an unsightly thorn ; " That tree is quite unwelcome here, With its great thistles brown And clumsy shape, it does no good, I'll hew the cumberer down." I looked upon the hated tree. And sorrow filled my heart, Alas ! thought I, poor helpless tree, Like many a one thou art, 270 THE THORN TREE. Who passes down life's stream alone, With shadowed heart and brow, Who is by all men cast aside, As good for nought as thou. Whose only portion while he lives. Is hate, contempt and scorn, And who, in death, lies spurned like thee, Thou outcast lonely thorn. Just then a slanting sunbeam fell Upon the joyless tree, And O ! the sight that met my gaze. Shall ne'er forgotten be ; Within the bosom of that thorn. Upon a spreading stem, The rain-drops bright had gathered up And formed a diadem ; " Aye," said I to the jewelled tree, " Like many a one thou art, Who lives unloved, yet holds unseen A treasure in his hearth THE THORN TREE. 271 The roughest bud a blossom bears Within its scaly folds, The coarsest rock within its breast, The brightest diamond holds ; Jewels are born beneath the sea. And pearls beneath the tide, And stormy nights and clouded skies. The brightest stars will hide ; Then judge not, from the outward form, Whate'er, Avhoe'er thou art, Man looks upon exterior acts, " God looks upo7i the heart." THE STORMY WINDS. "god help the sailor now." The stormy winds, they are out to-night, They are sweeping across the hills. They are dipping their wings in the rolling tide, They are dancing along the rills ; They are wrestling now with the forest king. And now with the mountain hoar, They are whistling now, and the rocking pines. With their mingled voices roar ; They are rolling down with their giant arms, The rocks from the mountain's brow, They are marching in armies along the deep, "God help the sailor now." T H R STORMY WINDS. 273 They sweep the sea with their icy hands, They heap the billows high, They dash them up, till their spray-crowned beads, Seem resting 'gainst the sJ^y ; Yon proud white ship, like a mighty bird, Is skimming a mountain wave, But the wind-spirits ! see how they hold it back, While they scoop out its hollow grave ,• Their work is done, and the ship sinks down, For the waves have touched its brow. It sinks in the deep like a weight of lead, " God help the sailor now." We know how wildly the sailor's wife Awakes from her troubled sleep, And looks abroad like a frightened bird O'er the breast of the boiling deep ; We know how closely she folds her hands In the might of her keen despair, When she gazes down upon the dusky beach And sees no white ship there ; 12* 274 THE STORMY WINDS. And we know how bitter lier grief will be When the light of the morning's brow, Will show the wreck of the victim ship ; God help the watcher now. O ! Thou who didst walk on the restless deep When the surging waves rolled high, Look down, look down from thy dwelling place, And list to the sailor's cry, The winds, the seas, and the tempests loud, Are servants that do thy will. Say Thou to the wind-spirits, fold your wings, And say to the waves, " be still ; " By his earnest call, by his fervent prayer, By the tear on his lifted brow, By his cold clasped hands, by his pale wet cheek, " God help the sailor now." THE SOARING BIRD. Soar upward and oaward thou pinioned bird, In the far off realms let thy voice be heard, With the blue sky pressing upon thy brow, And the sunlight gilding thy breast as now, With thy heart hymns gushing along thy throat. Still upward and onward, thou proud bird ! float. Away, away, to the bright blue sky. Away to the clime where the cloudlets lie. With the sunbeam's wing, away bright bird, Away like the flight of a light'ning word. Give thy glowing pinions to the upper air. Away, for no shadows may reach thee there. 276 TIIK SOARINf; BIRD. Thou hast upward flown, thou hast left the storm, And the blue sky circles thy graceful form, Thou hast left the tempest and gloom below, Through a clime of beauty in grandeur to soar, 'Till the golden tint of thy glancing wings Shines brightly, above all earthly things. O ! wouldst thou lend me thy pinions fair, Like thee, the breast of the storm I'd dare, I'd soar away to the land of love, I'd taste the joys of the realms above, I'd float away to those regions free. Would ! would that my spirit could soar like thee. THE DYING CHRISTIAN. I He lay in silent dreamings. His dark hair Upon his brow was parted, and fell back In rich and heavy masses ; and his cheek, Pale as a gathered snow wreath, wan and cold, Upon his thin hand rested. His dark eyes, . Beaming with soul-lit radiance, were upturned To the pure world above him ; and his frame Gluivered with heaven-born joy, as thus he breathed His last heart-hymn on earth. O ! I sigh for a world that is brighter than this, Where the heart from its cares shall be free ; Where storm clouds no longer shall darken my sky, And no billow shall roll on life's sea; 278 THE DYING CHRISTIAN. I sigh for a home where affliction no more Around me its shadow will cast, And I long to escape from this valley of woe, Where joy shall be mine at the last. I know of a world where temptation comes not, Where the heart is pure as a flower, Where holiness makes up a Heaven of bliss, And love gilds each beautiful hour ; I know of a home where my soul shall forget The pains it has suffered in this, Where sorrow and sickness and death are no more. And each moment is filled up with bliss. I Oh! had I the wings of the white-bosomed dove, ' That soars through the regions of air, How soon would I cast off" this mantle of clay. And fly to those bright mansions there ; Too dark is this desolate world for my heart, Too full of life's burdensome things. Too often the cumbersome cares of this earth. Have weighed down my spirit's bright wings. THE DYING CHRISTIAN. 279 f[ am weary, quite weary of life and its woes, I am weary of sin and its gloom, I am weary of friendship that dies in an hour. And I fain, Oh ! I fain would go home ; I am weary of staying away from my God, Away from yon Heaven above, Oh ! when shall I enter the regions of bliss, And drink at the fountain of love.- / Bright Angels ! ye call me, ye beckon me up, To your glorious home in the skies. Ye bend from the beautiful portals of bliss, Ye watch me with love-beaming eyes. Ye call me, ye call me, ye wait for me now. Ye are leading me down to the tomb. Ye are bearing me up to the beautiful land, Receive me, my Saviour, I come." "NE'ER CAN MY HEART BE THINE." . You may talk to me of a fairer clime, You may talk of a warmer sky, Where the flowers are bright, and the summer breeze Like the breath of joy goes by ; Where the clear bright streams, like silver threads In the glorious sunlight shine ; These flowers and rills allure me not. For '-ne'er can my heart be thine." ) You may tell me in truth of a costly home, Of a home in your southern land, You may say that vassals around my seat In servile fear shall stand ; You may tell me that blossoms of joy and hope Around me shall ever twine, But I heed it not, I heed it not. For "ne'er can my heart be thine." ne'ek can my heart be thine. 281 ^You may tell me that jewels shall deck my brow, That pearls shall gem my hair, And you promise that joy, and hope, and love, Shall attend me everywhere ; You say that a high and a holy lot, And all you have are mine, When my hand is yours, but no. Oh no ! For " ne'er can my heart be thine." I know of a home and a heart I love, Tho' low and unknown they be. And the home that I love will yet be mine, And that heart will cling to me ; Aye, cling to me like the ivy branch *■ That clings to the forest pine ; Then go to thy home in the summer clime, For "ne'er can my heart be thine.^Jp:z BYRON'S DESPAIR. (f^ Past pleasure doubles present pain^ To sorrow adds regret, Regret and hope are both in vain ;y I ask but to forget." [ Byron. I Forget the past ! Then would the light Of memory fade away ; Would'st thoii not sometimes turn aside To catch a lingering ray ? With all before thee dark and drear, With every joy " forgot," Without the rainbow tints of " hope," How wretched were thy lot. Dost call it happiness to dwell Upon the past no more, Because thy hopes of future bliss Have all been shadowed o'er ? Byron's despair. 283 / Forget the past ! No ! Though Fm doomed Its pleasures to resign, The memory of departed joys Around my heart sfiall twine. When thy proud soul was writhing 'neath The sting of sorrow's dart, When disappointment, like* a fiend, Was grappling at thy heart, If thou hadst paused to dwell aright Upon departed hours. Thy path, so thickly strewn with thorns. Had been entwined with flowers. And well I know how desolate, How mournful was thy lot, Seeking a spirit like thine own, But yet to find it not ; Thy heart was on the mountain high, And in the rushing stream, These, these alone could well pourtray Thy spirit's mighty dream. 284 byron's despair. 1 Great Poet ! thou hast fled away, Thy mantle too is gone ; Would, like the prophet, some might claim This relic by thee worn ; But none received it when thy soul Took its eternal flight, That gift, too mighty for this earth, Dissolved in rayless night. GOD'S WITNESSES. f They are around us everywhere, Air, ocean, woods, proclaim a God, In every thing we see the prints Where his eternal steps have trod ; We see them in the winds that rush In fierce tornadoes through the air, We see them in the lightning's flash ; We see that God is everywhere. The stars that roll with mighty speed Through yon immense blue field afar, Speak to each heart this thrilling truth. That God's own hand has placed them there ; The sun that sheds the beams of day. The beams that gladden every eye, The moon, with soft and holy light. All teach, He fills both earth and sky. 286 god's witnesses. The countless flowers that bloom in spring, And spread their soft perfume around, Breathe in the thoughtful list'ner's ear, In these, God's witnesses are found ; The rippling brook, the rushing stream, The forest wide, the bounding sea. The mountains, hills and verdant plains. All speak a present God to me. TO Mr. K*=**** on his MARRIAGE. 'Tis done, 'tis done, and angels bright, Have registered those vows above, They smiled with joy, to find on earth. Two hearts so formed for mutual love ; Take her, but let her not regret, That e'er she gave her heart to thee, " Twining around thee like a vine Around its chosen forest tree.'' She is thine own through good or ill, Thy happiness or grief to share, " Thy joys to hallow with a smile, Thy grief to soften with a tear ;" Thou hast in her a treasure found, A precious gem, a jewel rare, " Richer, by far, than Ophir's gold," Or than ten thousand rubies are. 288 TO M K . K . ON HIS M A R U 1 A G E . To thy especial care we give The sacred trust, Oh! guard it well, May fond affection firmly bind Around thy heart its potent spell ; Supply a mother's watchful love, Let not unkindness shade her brow, And let not coldness damp the joy That dwells within her bosom now. Accept a sister's fondest wish For thee, my valued friend and thine, May joys, like garlands, crown thy brow. And round thy heart, like tendrils, twine ; And if we meet in after years, May life, from care, be free as now ; I would not have thee come again, With altered heart and saddened brow. Take her, though dear to every heart. She's dearer to thy bosom still, But here she leaves an aching void, " This world can never, never fill ;" TO MR. K. ON HIS MARRIAGE. 289 And hoping 'tis God's holy will, We would not murmur nor repine, Though every heart must deeply feel, We would not give one pang to thine. A few more days, and we must part, To meet, perchance, no more for years, 'Tis anguish to the bursting heart, 'Tis agony too deep for tears ; And if it be we may not meet Again on life's tempestuous sea, O ! may we meet in Heaven above, To live ill bliss eternally. 13 TO MY SISTER LUCY. The day is parting from us, The sun is setting now, I see his last faint glimmer Upon the mountain's brow ; The eve is closing round us, And nature's harp is still. And night has pinned her mantle Around our own "Grape Hill;" And on its inmates, Sister, The holy moonbeams shine, I see kind faces round me, But, Sister, where is thine ? I am thinking of thee, Lucy, I am thinking of thee now, And wonder, if the same pure light Is resting on thy brow j TO MY SISTER LUCY. 291 I am thinking of that bright blue eye, And of that cheek so fair, And wondering if the lovely rose Of health is blooming there ; And of thy heart, thy pure young heart, O ! Sister ! is it still As light as when you left your home. Your beautiful " Grape Hill ?" When shall we meet thee, Sister ; When shall we welcome thee To thine own native bowers, When shall the meeting be ? We miss thee, O ! we miss thee much, At morning and at night, We miss thy voice of kindness, Thy smile of love and light ; We miss the songs of gladness That made our bosoms thtill, When wilt thou come, thou distant star. Of this our own "Grape Hill." 202 TO MY SISTER LUCY. Forget me not, dear Sister, In thy bright and sunny home, Where blossoms sweet are breathing Around thee, rich perfume, When the voice of kindness greets tliee, When the eye of love doth shine Most tenderly, dear Sister, Most lovingly in thine ; O ! let remembrance wander back To those who love thee still, Back to thy own sweet vine-clad bowers, Thy beautiful '' Grapr Hilt.." THE TWO LEAVES. 'TwAs autumn, and the crimson leaves Were falling thick and fast, And o'er the brow of nature sad, A gloomy look was cast. She seemed to mourn the falling leaves That long had been her pride, And wept above the flowers that drooped And perished side by side. With silent step, at twilight hour, I sought a lone retreat. And sighed to hear the wither'd leaves Fall rustling at my feet. 294 THE TWO LEAVES. And there, in that sequestered spot, I sat me down to rest, To watch awhile the crimsoned clouds That lingered in the west. It was a mournful silent hour, The autumn wind swept by, As though 'twas mourning for the year That soon, alas ! would die. The birds had ceased their carollings, And far away had sped, The flowers no longer bloomed around, Their fragrance all was dead. Above me, trembling in dismay, A withered leaflet hung, Whilst near it, on a bending spray. Its proud green neighbour swung. THE TWO LEAVES. 295 '•Why, why," cried he, with looks of scorn, '• My friend ! you look so pale ? I fear you'll have a dreadful fall, In this tempestuous gale. Such doleful sighs I cannot bear. Be quiet if you can, And if you perish, why, be firm, And perish like a man." The trembling leaf, with stricken heart His neighbour's scoffings heard. And every feeling of despair. Within his breast was stirred. " Unfeeling one !" at length he cried, "Your cruel tauntings spare, Remember! you must perish too. It boots you to prepare." 296 THE TWO LEAVES. Just then a proud and chilling blast Came whistling loudly by, The leaflet bowed his head, resigned, And died without a sii^h. "Ho! ho!" his neighbour loud exclaimed, " My friend ! art dead so soon ? While I am left to flutter here In all life's slorious bloom? Full many a day is left to me, And many an hour of joy, Ere autumn's chilling blight will come My beauty to destroy. And while below me, cold and dead, My meaner neighbours lie, I'll triumph here till every bird Has left the autumn sky." THE TWO LEAVES. 297 Another chilling blast swept o'er That leaf so proud and gay. He struggled bravely for his life, And loudly plead to stay. Bnt, heedless of his prayers and cries, Old Boreas laid him down. Among his long despised friends. To moulder on the ground. With an important lesson stamped Upon my heart and mind, I rose and left the fallen leaves And that lone place behind. And now, when foolish human pride Within my heart Avould swell, I turn me to the withered leaves And read the moral well. 13* THE PHANTOIM OF EARTHLY GLORY. We are prone to make our wishes vain, And sigh for what we cannot gain ; Thus a romantic boy, Saw in the distance rising high, A mount that seemed to reach the sky, And hailed the sight with joy. Uj)on the mountain's topmost height There gleamed a spark as dazzling bright As gems that deck a crown ; White-handed Hope stood watching by, And bade him climb the summit hisrh And make that gem his own. PHANTOM OF EARTHLY GLORY. 299 He Starts at once with eager tread, With sparkling eyes and lifted head, ' To gain the jewel rare ; But dangers multiply around. He starts and trembles at each sound That breaks upon his ear. " O ! struggle on, nor faint, nor stop, Behold upon the mountain top A royal diadem ; Not all the monarchs of the east Could in their lofty grandeur boast Of such a precious gem." Thus, whispered Hope ; the happy youth Deemed it the sacred word of truth, And still his path pursued ; Up, onward, o'er the mighty steeps Behold the fearless tyro leaps With vigour fresh endued. 30(1 PHANTOM OF EARTHLY GLORY. When lo ! a Seraph-form came nigh With glowing smile and beaming eye, And thus the youth addressed ; " Poor mortal ! give thy journey o'er, And seek earth's glittering spoils no more, In Heaven alone is rest. My name is Wisdom, born on high, My home is far beyond the sky. Yet I am with the meek, I fill the universe around, By those who seek, I soon am found, To every one I speak.'" He paused with weariness oppressed. And thus the heavenly maid addressed, " I pray thee speak no more, Upon the mountain top behold A diamond set in stars of gold, Must I that prize forego ? " PHANTOM OF KARTHLY GLORY. 301 The Seraph gently glided past, She gave a look, it was the last, The sweetest to him given ; " Adieu mistaken youth," she cried, And as the echo quickly died. She fled away to Heaven. The youth toiled on from night till morn, 'Till weary, vexed, and sorely torn, He reached the mountain's height. He gazed around the gem to see. But oh, alas ! what misery ! It no where met his sight. 'Twas but a white and flinty stone. Which in the glittering sunlight shone, That promised such delight ; Such are the glories of this earth, They shine a moment at their birth, Then fade in endless night. THE SHIPWRECK. The wind was loud and the night was dark, And the waves beat high 'round a ship at sea, The moon was hid 'neath an angry cloud, And no light shone on the distant lea ; The gallant crew in that noble ship For a moment gazed on the far-off shore, Then looked on the waves that soon must shroud. That ship and crew in their ceaseless roar. The surf-sprites shrieked with fiendish joy. And clapped their hands as they rode on the wave, " There is room," they cried, " in the dark deep sea, There is room enough for each mariner's grave ; Old Neptune waits in his jewelled grot. To welcome his guest to the emerald sea. And we've come to light you down to your home, Make haste, make haste, we wait for thee. T 11 K SHIPWRECK. 303 The storm-king trod like a giant bold, The rushing main, and his step was proud, As he trampled the trembling mariners down, And wrapped them up in their watery shroud ; The lover went to his emerald home. With his loved one near him, side by side, They sank to rest, they had loved in life, And death would not their fates divide. Wave after wave o'er the deck dashed by. While the ship was stayed on a coral reef, But the tide at length on the ocean fell, And the wind was heard like a sigh of grief; The storm-king sunk in the sea to rest, The surf-sprites went to their homes in the deep, They wrapped the sea-weed around the dead, And laid them down in their caves to sleep. Old Neptune rose from his jasper throne, And welcomed the dead to his sea-girt home, "Come in," he cried, "for where could yo find A fairer land or a costlier dome? 304 T H K SHIPWRECK. Here are gems to deck each mariner's bed, Here are jewels washed from a distant shore, And the ocean snrge, like a weeping friend. Shall chaunt your dirge for evermore." Not one remained of that noble band, Save a Lover true and his destined Bride, Like wandering doves they sat and mourned O'er their friends that had perished, side by side ; And night by night their spirits rose. To call that Lover and loved one away, And the surf-sprite sang on the wreathing surge, And beckoned to them from the dashing spray : "Come away with lis To the deep, deep blue, Your friends are here. They await for yon ; In their coral caves, They have waited long, THE SHIPWRECK. O ! come at the call Of our spirit song ; There are jewelled beds Where the weary rest, With the sea-weed wrapped O'er each silent breast ; The ocean wave Shall your requiem sing; Its wild sweet notes Shall forever ring ; Come, come away From the upper aii*, Leave all your cares And sorrows there ; Weep not for the dead, From pain they are free, They sleep in peace 'Neath the rolling sea ; They have called you long, From their emerald bed, Will you come and rest With the peaceful dead ?" 305 306 THE S H 1 P \V 11 E C K . The song was hushed, and its cadence fell Like an angel's whisper, soft and low, On the waves it sweetly re-echoed back And mingled with ocean's eternal roar ; ZoTiLLA heard with a throbbing heart. The summons that called her soul away, " I will go," she said, " to my ocean grave, For here no longer do I wish to stay." With a faltering lip and a trembling hand, She wakened her harp, so long unstrung, And thus, as she sat by her Lover's side. This mournful song she sweetly sung : " I am coming soon to your peaceful home. Dear Friends ! in the deep, deep blue, I am failing fast, I shall rest ere long, 'Neath the rolling waves with you ; 1 have clung to life — to this fleeting life, With affection fond and true. But ye have departed, and now I come To rest in the ocean too ; THE SHIPWRECK. 307 I shall bring with me my early Choice, We must journey hand in hand, We have loved in life, and we would not part As we enter the spirit land ; I have heard you call fr.om your ocean beds, From your shrouds in the cave so deep, Dear Parents ! Sisters ! I shall come ere long. In the arms of death to sleep ; I am failing fast, and I soon shall rest In peace 'neath the snow-white foam, But my spirit shall rise from its lowly bed And find in Heaven a home." ZoTiLLA laid her harp aside. And her brow was calm and pale, Her voice in melting music died On the breath of the evening gale ; The Lovers stood on the silent deck, And gazed on the far-off west. Where the golden sun on his crimson couch, Had gone to his nightly rest. 308 THE SHIPWRECK. BoDiAH smiled, for he thought of home And the friends who were waiting there, And a gentle hope in his bosom rose Like the glow of the evening star ; " Home, pleasant home," Zotilla sighed, As she looked on his love-lit eye, " BoDiAH ! dream of thy home no more, 'Tis away in yon azure sky. I know 'tis pleasant to think of home. Where thy loved ones are 'waiting thee, But the friends who lighted our early home, Are they not in the deep, deep sea ? We have suffered much in this fearful ship. But relief will come ere long, * Trust then in Him who will be your stay, O ! suffer and be stronor." BoDiAH turned with a tear-dimmed eye To the Fair One at his side, And he strove, but strove in vain, from her His anguish deep to hide; THE SHIPWRECK. 309 ^' Ah ! must J leave thee all alone, Without one kind friend near. To wipe from thy brow the dew of death, Or dry the burning tear ?" " Oh ! mourn not thus," cried the faithful Maid, As she pillowed his head on her breast, " A few more moments of suffering here, And thy soul shall find its rest ; / shall follow you soon to the rolling deep. Where sleep the good and the brave ; The surge shall be our winding sheet. And the ocean bed our grave." The morning rose, and the ship went down. As the Avaves around it fell. It sank in the waters dark and deep, Where fearful monsters dwell ; The sunbeams rose on the heaving tide. And sparkled like jewels bright, The sea-bird moved o'er the golden waves. And basked in the streamins: liffht. 310 THE SHIPWRECK. The surf-sprite sat on the jewelled foam, And chanted the Lovers' dirge, Its notes so wild, so full and sweet, Were heard o'er the murmuring surge : " Weep not for the dead, They are happy now, Where the sea-weed twines Round their youthful brow ; I have laid them down In old ocean's cave. With the friends they loved, In the self-same grave ; I have strewed o'er their bosoms Jewels rare. And left them to slumber Peacefully there ; Weep not for the dead, They have passed away To a brighter sky And a purer day ; THE SHIPWRECK. 311 The ocean wave Shall forever sing, In thundering notes, Their requiem ; 'Till the trumpet sounds To call the dead From their coral graves In the ocean bed." ^ Ll-.i n OeacidHied using the Bookkeeper process. Neutralizing agent; Magnesium Oxide Treatment Date: Sept. 2009 PreservationTechnologies , WORLD LEADER .NC0UECT.ONSPRESERVAT.0. * *°*"- 1,1 Thomson Park Drive Cranberry Township. PA 16066 (724) 779-2111