I LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. ., 
 
 b|j^"''l^ |op2r¥^ ^^0. 
 
 K UNITED STATES OF AMERICA, f 
 
 
 iv/ V 
 
 
 r. • f ■ i/ - ' V ' • 
 
'i' '."• . 
 
 
 
 • -r, ''^' 
 
 Mi 
 
 f^J 
 
 i^- 
 
 v^ 
 
 "^"^f: 
 
 r. ,_-.^l-\''f 
 
 ^ 
 
 
 ,1", «• •.•..- 
 
 ^rX^f: ' .. * v«El?'^w»fc\i»■- 
 
 --fi 
 
 •I^i-.' 
 
 
 
 ^- 
 
 
 i -v^-A-, 
 
 ^: 
 
 .fe^ 
 
 
 
 W-M'l 
 
 
kn 
 
POEMS AND SELECTIONS 
 
 AN ADDRESS. 
 
 -r 
 
 iBir crosiisr C3- o o 3D 3yi: .a. isr 
 
 Some of these Poems were prmtcd in England, but not completed in 
 
 consequence of contimted sickness, under the ncm de phi7ne of 
 
 "JOHN MY-LORE." 
 
 J^ 
 
 
 ■^ Uo.I.(j.hLi.''Li'\ 
 
 CLEVELAND, O. : 
 
 ROBISON, SAVAGE & CO., PRINTEKS AND STATIONERS 
 
 1877. i V 
 
At 
 
 DEDICATED TO MY FIRST-BORN DAUGHTER. MARY AXX. 
 
POEMS AND SELECTIONS. 
 
 THE FLORENTINE ROSE GIRL. 
 
 Written September 10th, 187-4, at Long's Drug Store, Bryan, Wil- 
 liams County, Ohio.) 
 
 Yandini he galloped in haughty pride, 
 
 On the back of his coal black steed, did ride. 
 
 When a Florentine maid beyond compare, 
 
 With piercing black eyes, and bright auburn hair. 
 
 Appeared in his path, with a basket of roses ; 
 
 He reigned up his charger, flew to her side. 
 
 To the maid with passionate ardor cried, 
 
 Thy form is matchless, to love thee I dare: 
 
 Be constant ever, she said, or beware. 
 
 The thought in my brain to me discloses. 
 
 That he who steals and withers my posies. 
 
 Must beware of the Thorn hid 'iieath my roses. 
 
 Oh! there was wild joy in that maiden's heart ; 
 The Moon shone brightly ; 'twas hard to part. 
 Vandini had sought, and obtained the pearls, 
 That were hidden beneath her clustering curls. 
 He sought for and found the Florentine's Rose ; 
 
4 POEMS AND SELECTIONS. 
 
 He kissed her farewell, and handed a dart. 
 Saying, plunge this into Vandini's heart. 
 Should he think of another, and thee forget. 
 If thou art dishonored then pay the debt; 
 Then to all mankind thou mayest disclose 
 How in thy sad heart deep yengeance arose, 
 Against Yandini, the false, who stole thy rose. 
 In a village, a hundred miles away, 
 Were rich cavaliers, and a cavalcade gay. 
 A groom and a bride, both handsome and fair. 
 But near the church door, one beyond compare, 
 A statue did stand, with a young Moss Rose. 
 The nightingale warbled its lovely lay. 
 Young lambs, on the greensward, did skip and play, 
 The bride when extatic received the dart 
 As she asked for the rose, from a wounded heart. 
 Yandini fell, but he quickly arose. 
 When lightning-like, two Florentine blows 
 Laid him dead at her feet, who held the Moss Rose. 
 
 BEAUTIFUL DREAMS. 
 
 TO 
 
 
 I am with thee ever in beautiful dreams. 
 With thee do I wander by silvery streams ; 
 I sleep on thy bosom — 'tis soft as the dove's — 
 While we breathe to each other our passionate loves. 
 
BEAUTIFUL DREAMS. 5 
 
 Waking or sleeping. I am dreaming of thee ; 
 Sleei^ing or Avaking, thon art thinking of me ; 
 While the stars in their glory are shining above — 
 Sleeping or waking, I dream of thy love. 
 
 A murmuring billow came over the sea, 
 My beautiful one, she hath spoken to me ; 
 Through the tear-drop I gaze — 'tis a drop of pure dew, 
 The ray-light of love, when I'm thinking of you. 
 
 The pulses of time softly beat on my ear 
 As I wander and dream, love, of thee — my dear ! 
 And I fancy the ripples that flow from this shore 
 Will waft thee to me, or carry me o'er. 
 
 Like the eye of Clotilda, the sky that's above, 
 Is blue, is Italian, is glowing with love ! 
 When I gaze on its depths I think of my flower, 
 My fondness, so cruel, did drive from my boAver. 
 
 Yes, yes ! we will wander — yes, we Avill stray 
 Through greeuAvoods and forests, and gather the May, 
 While ^olian zephyrs shall play at our feet, 
 As we sleep heart to heant, 'midst the violets sweet. 
 
 The waves kiss each other — I, in my dreams, 
 Am kissing thee ever, like bubbles in streams — 
 And the fondness they shoAV Avhen blended in one. 
 Is that Avhich lue felt in days that are gone. 
 
 On carpets of daisies, bordered Avith green. 
 We'll sleep, 'neath the light of night's beautiful queen, 
 In meadows by streams, near sAveet flowery groves, 
 'Midst roses, SAveet roses ! recounting our loA'es. 
 
6 POEMS AND SELECTIONS. 
 
 Then sleeping or waking all the night long, 
 Embracing we'll list to the nightingale's song : 
 Angels shall hover, and seraphs above 
 Shall envy and hope for the bliss of our love. 
 
 John My-lore. 
 
 Cleveland, Ohio, 
 
 19th September, 1870. 
 
 GEORGE FRANCIS TRAIN. 
 
 George Francis Train, disgusted at England for not receiving his 
 street railway project, came to U. S. A., and, lecturing at Brain- 
 ard's Hall, Cleveland, Ohio, said : " The English were a nation of 
 cowards and slaves." I, in indignation, went to my store, 256 
 Superior St., and wrote as follows : 
 
 I am an Englishman, born and bred, 
 
 It wounds my feelings to hear it said 
 
 That that dear land of the free and the brave, 
 
 Is the birthplace of the coward and slave. 
 
 It is all very well for G. F. Train, 
 
 From the windy cells of his flighty brain. 
 
 To try to abuse with sarcastic speech 
 
 A land that is far above Jiis reach. 
 
 His lecture was like a novel, when read. 
 
 That is characterless, inert and dead — 
 
 Xo zest when you rise on to-morrow morn; 
 
 ^0 new thought to your mind is born. 
 
 Pigmies might battle with giants of old, 
 
 Arabian Night tales oft are told. 
 
REPLY TO CtEOEGE FRANCIS TRAIN. 7 
 
 But no well-trained sparrow would ever try 
 To mount and soar where the eagles fly; 
 One sun-ray would all their resources drain, 
 They would Avither and fall like G. F. Train. 
 0, England! my dear, my native land! 
 All I can shield with my feeble hand. 
 All I can praise Avith my faltering tongue. 
 When ^-hou doest right, shall be proudly sung. 
 To dream that the land of Byron and Locke 
 From thy puny arm could receive a shock; 
 To think that the land where Shakspeare was born 
 Would Avrithe for an instant beneath thy scorn ! 
 • Can Milton, or Shelley, or NcAvton, or Burns, 
 Lie unscathed in their peaceful urns? 
 Or, is it left for the moth of an hour 
 Vials of wrath on their manes to pour? 
 Must spleen, envenomed, be shoAvered like rain 
 From the fetid pores of his bloodshot brain. 
 Who, because in England he could not rule. 
 Must seek the Far West to play the fool? 
 Are Britain's statesmen at length forgot? 
 Her great machinists, ArkAvright, Watt — 
 Her Burkes, her Cannings, Peel, and Pitt, 
 Johnson, Avith Sheridanian Avit — 
 Cressy, Poictiers, and Agincourt, 
 Blenheim, and Gibraltar's fort; 
 Their grand old ships, and each Avonderful crew. 
 And Wellington in Spain and Waterloo; 
 Their hundred battles by sea and land; 
 Their Marlborough, Nelson, and that band 
 Who fought like gods Avhen their leader blundered — 
 Each man a My — the noble Six Hundred! 
 
POEMS AXD SELECTIOXS. 
 
 "What an insult it was for G. F. Train 
 To venture here with infantile brain, 
 To teach an audience erudite, 
 "Who to him have listened in vain to-night. 
 . To browbeat a nation that rules the world 
 By the moral greatness she hath unfurled; 
 Whose empire fades not beneath the sun — 
 And whose noble career hath but begun. 
 Her peojjle were savage the other day. 
 When the Eomans held the isle in sway, 
 But blending the twain with the Saxon race. 
 Their barbarism hath left no trace ; 
 The sires of those knights who wore the Garter 
 Won from King John the Magna Charta, 
 And all the famous laws and codes 
 Which Freedom gives — the charts, the roads — 
 To all the glorious liberties we prize, 
 Were fought for and won beneath English skies. 
 Look around, and see from what parent stock 
 Is your audience here, and scan the flock — 
 Some Scotch, some Manx, and Irish, I find, 
 Yet the English descent count all combined ; 
 All the language, the art, the skill. 
 The persevering determined will, 
 That energy which prevaileth o'er 
 Impediments great — the Excelsior I 
 Comes from that grand old Saxon race 
 No G. F. Train can ever deface. 
 They will be noble when ?ie is dead ; 
 They will be brave when all he's said 
 Will be light as the ashes of his cigar. 
 When Boreas comes in his rushing car. 
 
EEPLY TO GEORGE FRAJfCIS TRAIN". 
 
 'Tis a waste of words, for they cannot fall 
 
 To vegetate on a mind so small. 
 
 'Twas amisliap sure, that Wilkes — in the "Trent" 
 
 Produced the misfortune we underwent ; 
 
 Yet we made the Austrian toe the mark, 
 
 When he tried in his ports to play the shark. 
 
 No doubt, had the rebels caught Salmon Chase 
 
 On an English brig, and given it chase — 
 
 And it a neutral from neutral shores — 
 
 And ta'en him prisoner, with a nation's encores. 
 
 Our mother had made the same demand, 
 
 To have him placed at her command. 
 
 We are both one people, both one race. 
 
 Each hath a Saxon and Celtic trace — 
 
 We must love each other, the young and old — 
 
 Each people is warlike, loving, and bold ! 
 
 The wailing cry,* borne on the Eastern wind, 
 
 Responded to, shows that our hearts are kind. 
 
 Let the Eagle and Lion shake paws and claws, 
 
 And united remain in humanity's cause I 
 
 Let no angry word from your lips again 
 
 Be passed, that you hear from G. E. Train. 
 
 John My-lore. 
 
 256 Sl^PERior. Stkeet, 
 
 Clevklaxi), Ohio. 
 
 * The appeal of the Cotton Spinners of Lancashire, responded to 
 by contributions from the United States. 
 
10 POEMS AND SELECTIONS. 
 
 REFUGEES FROM THE SOUTH. 
 
 [Written in 1864.] 
 
 Like that sad time when Israel's children toiled, 
 Driven like beasts, urged on by murd'rous lash 
 To Babylonia, from their native homes, 
 Tired, faint, and thirsty, hungering for food, 
 Until, life-wearied, they lay down and died ; 
 Or, like the Britons, who, driven o'er the sea, 
 Bereft of titles, castles, home and lands. 
 Settled in Avild woods near the coast of Gaul ; 
 Or Huguenots, who fled from guilty France 
 To be supported on a foreign soil — 
 So the poor sorrowing victims of the South, 
 Who flee from untold tyranny and wrong. 
 Leave their oppression for the pitying North. 
 Oh ! what a ruin hath the South become, 
 Because she wished to bolster up her sin — 
 Her institution, rotten at the core, 
 Which the fierce blast prevailing o'er the land 
 Will split and splinter and finally uproot. 
 Conscription, rude conscription, in the South 
 Spares not the sorrowing father or the son. 
 Takes food and cattle, implements and arms. 
 Then burning up their j)roduce and their homes, 
 Sends forth the mother and her babe to die. 
 
 JOHX My-lore. 
 
 Cleveland, Ohio, 
 1861. 
 
JESUS CHKIST. 11 
 
 ON JESUS CHRIST. 
 
 What wonders liatli tlie chosen race produced I 
 
 Think of their Moses, who gave forth the hiw 
 
 To rule and guide the actions of mankind 
 
 Through decade centuries of time — David, 
 
 Who in Psalms and Songs doth so electrify. 
 
 Or soothe, or raise the human heart, that all 
 
 Who readeth remember them for ever; 
 
 King Solomon, Avho in his wisdom saw 
 
 The inward promptings of that human heart. 
 
 Told of tenderness none but mothers feel; 
 
 Isaiah, by his writings most sublime. 
 
 Is quite unequaled, and no modern man 
 
 Would dare presume his equal e'er to be; 
 
 But the great Israelite, the Bethlehemite, 
 
 The One pre-eminent, the One alone. 
 
 The Meteor-star, the ever-shining Light, 
 
 The Man — who fashioned acts of modern times, 
 
 Who fashioned thoughts Avhich will through time 
 
 prevail — 
 He who hath taught pure morals to mankind — 
 He who was lirm beyond Temptation's power — 
 He who for comeliness so far surpassed 
 All mortals born, .that Avell might they apply 
 To Him, that He should thus henceforth be known 
 As Jesus Christ, the well-known Son of God. 
 If any nation e'er had cause for joy. 
 If any nation e'er had cause for pride. 
 It is the Jewish — for among her sons 
 The greatest Teacher of mankind was born ; 
 
12 POEMS AXD SELECTIONS. 
 
 Although whilst living not well understood. 
 
 For all the race were deeply steeped in sin; 
 
 That His great self-denial, His great love, 
 
 They could not comprehend — absorbed in trade. 
 
 And sensual through their luxury and wealth — 
 
 Such unselfishness they could not realize, 
 
 Nor comprehend the Saviour's purity ; 
 
 His new commandment of eternal love, 
 
 His new doctrine of forgiveness ever, 
 
 His kindly feelings to a little child. 
 
 His manly shieldings of the fallen ones, 
 
 His simple-mindedness, his childlike ways, 
 
 While filled with knowledge that amazed them all; 
 
 For He in disputations so excelled 
 
 That all the learned doctors of the law 
 
 Gave Him precedence in the House of God; 
 
 His prayer to Heaven, when nailed upon the tree — 
 
 "Father, forgive, they know not what they do." 
 
 John My-loke. 
 
 256 Superior Street, 
 
 Cleveland, Ohio, April 1st, 1860. 
 
 SCHILLER AND MARY VON ARNIM. 
 
 [Written at the Northern Ohio Lunatic Asylum, Dec. 9th, 1873, in 
 Ward 9.]' 
 
 Mary Von Arnim gazed in Schiller's face, 
 Her lovely form like Juno's did appear ; 
 She also seem'd a Venus, and each grace 
 In her most wondrous loveliness vou'd trace. 
 
SCHILLER AND MAKY YON ARNIM. 13 
 
 None ever equalled lier's, except Poppea, 
 Eome's proud beauty, or Beatrice Cenci, 
 The noblest Latin woman born ; whose cry 
 Of anguish, when her lustful father tried 
 Her honor to o'ercome, her virtuous pride, 
 Hunger and curses and foul blows withstood. 
 Although her thoughts, in dreams, Avere all of blood; 
 Until the demon fierce, raised in her breast, 
 Slew her own father, her friends deemed it best. 
 And when the Popish tyrant, cruel, fell. 
 Sent her to prison, made that prison hell. 
 Her heart was rent, as Mary's heart was rent. 
 When she to tell her love to darling Schiller went. 
 
 You do not love me, Mary, never did ; 
 Your heart 's an icicle, it cannot warm 
 With love's consuming fires. You wish to rid 
 Me of your presence ; your celestial charm 
 Stole to my heart, hiding itself away 
 Deep in the core of cores ; the holiest ray 
 From love's abiding place was only thine ; 
 Thou wert the polished diamond from the mine. 
 Now art Pandora's box, hast op'ed the lid. 
 And like the snakes, Medusa's head doth swarm ; 
 You send ten thousand horrors, these amid 
 My Joyousness, for never would' st thou harm 
 My sensitiveness could your cunning play 
 Upon my heart, and warm without a ray. 
 Your object was to rid, to keep away 
 The poor intruder. Marr}"- whom you will ; 
 The heartfelt love of Schiller Mary will have still. 
 
 John My-lore. 
 
14 POEMS AXD SELECTIONS. 
 
 THE FAIRY QUEEN. 
 
 Scene — Evesham Vale, near Oloucester Road, on the Avon River. Large 
 Oak Tree: Knight Asleep. 
 
 THE KNIGHT AND THE FAIRY. 
 
 Fairy. Brave Knight, will yon not come with me 
 To the bright green spots beneath the sea, 
 Where, on coral hills, in a sea-moss grove, 
 We can revel in the delights of love? 
 
 Knight. 0, no, sweet Fairy! watery queen 
 
 Of the bright spots of emerald green! 
 There is one who dwells in yon vale below, 
 Whom I love so well that I cannot go. 
 
 Fairy. Brave Knight, pray look at my beautiful eyes, 
 There are none more lovely beneath the skies; 
 Look at my tresses — angelic, divine — 
 For none on this earth can compare with mine. 
 
 Knight. 0, beautiful Fairy! pray tempt me not, 
 Or perpetual anguish will be my lot. 
 For my black-eyed maiden doth love me so 
 With her whole heart, that I dare not go. 
 
 Fairy. Brave Knight, just place your lips to mine. 
 The nectar you'll sip will be divine; 
 Or lay your head on my bosom bare, 
 'Twill soothe you to love, and hide your care. 
 
THE FAIKY QUEEX. 15 
 
 KniyM. Wore I to prove false to the maid I love — 
 To my nightingale, my turtledove — 
 Her days would be sorrow, her nights be woe; 
 , So, celestial Fairy, I must not go. 
 
 Fairy. Brave Knight, pray look at my brow, " tis so fair 
 That no mortal one can with mine compare; 
 With an infinite mind to teach thee lore. 
 That cannot be taught on thy earthly shore. 
 Brave Knight, think you not my features di- 
 vine? 
 No mortal's e'er were as classic as mine: 
 Alabaster is white, yet not half so fair 
 As, tresses removed, are my shoulders bare. 
 Brave Knight, pray encircle my swan-like neck. 
 Time cannot alter, no sorrow can wreck; 
 Let face, form, and features, belong all to thee : 
 Come, dwell with me. Knight, in the deep, blue 
 sea. 
 
 Kniglit. 0, I loved my Marie when quite a child, 
 
 We climbed together the mountains wild — 
 
 I loved her, when, Avet with the sunny showers. 
 
 We made wreaths of myrtle, garlands of flow- 
 ers — 
 
 I loved her when first Ave began to knoAV 
 
 The road which the virtuous ever should go — 
 
 Sat with her and loved her in sylvan scenes. 
 
 Had the bliss that is told of by fairy queens — 
 
 I've loved her for ever, and told my love. 
 
 And sworn by what's sacred, below and above, 
 
 To shield her through life from danger and woe; 
 
 So, water-nymj)h, leave me, Fm lost if I go. 
 
16 POEMS AND SELECTIOXS. 
 
 Fairy. BraA'e Knight, I will build, in the deep blue sea, 
 A castle of gold, love, for thee and me, 
 On an island that's covered with fruits and 
 
 flowers — • 
 
 With jessamine hedges and myrtle bowers; 
 It shall be inlaid with diamonds bright, 
 And enfrosted silver to shade their light; 
 With topaz and agate I'll pave each floor, 
 Haijg on hinges of gold each silver door. 
 And each window shall be a crystal clear 
 To let in the sunlight on thee, my dear! 
 I will gather the down from the eider's wing. 
 The gossamer web from afar I'll bring; 
 Make jDillows to lay on an opal frame; 
 Have lamps that shall burn with a sapphire 
 
 flame; 
 The roof shall be wrought from an emerald 
 
 green. 
 To temper the glare of the sunny sheen; 
 The birds shall sing sweetly all the night long. 
 With notes far excelling the nightingale's song. 
 And my naiads they shall play soft music to 
 
 thee, 
 If you will go and dAvell in the bright blue sea. 
 
 Knight. Fairy, sweet fairy, you promise so much. 
 Electrical fire is felt in your touch. 
 AVhat rapture 'twould be to sleep in the arms 
 Of one who possesses such exquisite charms! 
 Celestial! you know poor mortals are weak — 
 Perfume of your breath is fanning my cheek — 
 Through my veins is raging pure heavenly fire! 
 
THE FAIRY QUEEN". 17 
 
 My brain is reeling with ardent desire! 
 Think me not weak, expressing my wishes, 
 I'm longing to melt beneath heavenly kisses! 
 Tell me, enchantress, 'tis wrong to feel so. 
 And help me to say that I will not go. 
 
 Fairy. I'll have baths of dewdrops from flowery cells, 
 And essence of honey from cowslip bells, 
 Will lull thee with music from rocky caves 
 That is borne by shells on the bright green 
 
 waves. 
 An infant's skin is not softer than mine, 
 No finger so taper — arm so divine, 
 No bosom so heaving with love's sweet fires. 
 Kindling for ever such ardent desires! 
 Your life shall be one of bliss so supreme. 
 Surpassing all pleasures of which you dream; 
 Forgetful of earth, all moments of joy. 
 Indulging in happiness never to cloy; 
 With feelings unchanged I will ever love thee. 
 If you will go and dwell in the bright blue sea. 
 
 The Knight drooped his head on her bosom 
 
 bare. 
 And mingled his locks with her golden hair: 
 Their glances met first, then their cherry lips, 
 And they drank in the nectar in burning sips; 
 Around the Knight's neck were her bare white 
 
 arms 
 Pressed close to her bosom and beautiful charms. 
 Forgot Avere the vows he to Marie had given, 
 
 2 
 
18 POEMS AXD SELECTIOXS. 
 
 The bliss he enjoyed — 'twas Eden ! 'twas 
 
 Heaven ! 
 With arms twined around him — caressing the 
 
 Knight, 
 His face on her bosom — prepared for flight, 
 Her eyes speaking love, as she watched awhile 
 The sweet sleeping Knight with his beautiful 
 
 smile, 
 She waked him again, and hour after hour 
 They, reveling in love, with kisses devour — 
 Indulging in draughts no mortal could bear; 
 At length were reposing this beautiful pair! 
 
 The Fairy and Knight passed a mountain high 
 Whose peak appeared almost to reach the sky. 
 As they looked up from a mossy green dell 
 Where the mermaids did sj)ort and love to 
 
 dwell, 
 On the other side were, pellucid and green, 
 The most beaixtiful sights he yet had seen; 
 The gay plumage of birds in Indian climes, 
 Or the tones of the bells of village chimes, 
 Or the lulling music of murmuring streams, 
 ' Or the beautiful fancies of poets' dreams. 
 
 Or the harmonized sounds of a thousand choirs. 
 Or the intense feelings and soft desires 
 Which pervade the minds of a new-wed pair. 
 Or the sweet perfumes of Araby air. 
 Or the language which flows from a lover's 
 
 tongue. 
 Ne'er equal the sights that are yet unsung! 
 
THE FAIBY QUEEX. li' 
 
 The ricli rainbow colors of prismed light 
 Were all interspersed in these waters bright. 
 Fishes that swam in this beautiful sea 
 Were of crystallized clear transparency ! 
 Like pure virgin gold was each spinal bone, 
 Around each neck was an emerald zone, 
 Their tails were like silver enfrosted Avhite, 
 Their eyes were like rubies glistening bright — 
 Each scale like a gem, as the waters they lave. 
 As varied as any mosaic pave; 
 Each fin, as they passed through the Avaters 
 
 cold. 
 Was like chequered pearl and filigree gold; 
 They sported 'neath branches of coral red 
 Near shells of opal in their shallow bed, 
 'Midst sea-weeds green, which were waving in 
 
 curls. 
 Festooned and mingled with clustering jJ earls! 
 The bab-i/ mermaids from under the hill — 
 Bewildered with beauty — would swim so still, 
 Lest they might frighten the fishes away 
 That they could not see them another day; 
 Through their ringlets of gold and near their 
 
 eyes 
 Would these fishes sport, with their jeweled 
 
 dyes, 
 And ere the bright sun was shrouded from sight 
 With their silvery tails would touch them Good 
 
 Night! 
 
 JOHX My-lore. 
 
 Wkitten at 256 Superiok Street, 
 Cleveland, Ohio, April 1st, 1860. 
 
20 POEMS AXD SELECTIONS. 
 
 TO LONGFELLOW. 
 
 Art thou that mortal of Avhoni it is told 
 
 That thy thoughts are purer than virgin gold ? 
 
 Art thou the Longfellow of Avliom men tell 
 
 That thy tones are sweet as a silver bell ? 
 
 Art thou that great poet wlio can disclose 
 
 Pure love in the heart of a new-blown rose ? 
 
 Art thou the philosopher who can scan 
 
 The innermost thoughts of thy felloAV man ? 
 
 Is it shown to your vision, before your eyes. 
 
 What longs for a resting-place in the skies ? 
 
 Can Longfellow tell why the learned and brave 
 
 Show such discontent at their earth-bound grave ? 
 
 No wonder men praise thee with fragrant breath, 
 
 If thou knowest so much of life and death ! 
 
 The world may Deify you — yoti die. 
 
 Yet sink not unnoticed, as worms, or I. 
 
 "When thou wast a babe at thy mother's breast. 
 
 And she softly cradled thee there to rest, 
 
 Was it in thy vision, couldst thou see clear 
 
 What made thee cling so to thy mother dear ? 
 
 (Thy mind was a blank) it is plainly seen 
 
 'Twas warmth like the sun's, the lu'iglit summer's 
 
 sheen ; 
 Thou knowest it now, yet knew it not then ; 
 Yet still thou art great midst th}' fellow men. 
 Shelley arose like a spirit of light. 
 Through bright realms of fancy he took his flight ; 
 And all that is known in poetic lore 
 Bysshe Shelley's jrare sjjirit luith traversed o'er ; 
 
TO LONGFELLOW. 21 
 
 Till you lose yourself in the azure ray, 
 
 Canst thou soar in the height of thy flight ? — 0, say ! 
 
 There is a cii'cle of worlds, where glorious sights 
 
 Are seen by immortals — the uppermost heights — 
 
 Where, if one bright ray struck a mortal's eye, 
 
 It would wither — be dust ! and man would die ! 
 
 Yet the time will come when the human race 
 
 With Gods in new worlds shall stand face to face — 
 
 After the millenium here hath been, 
 
 And the earth hath blent with night's beautiful queen, 
 
 Like ether ascending, until the twain 
 
 Are received on the surface of Sol again ; 
 
 Eternity's night will be turned to day, 
 
 And a thousand years as a single ray 
 
 Of the infinite morning will appear, 
 
 Eefulgent, eternally brilliant, clear ! 
 
 Then Jupiter, Saturn, Lucifer, Mars, 
 
 Mercury, Venus, and all those bright stars, 
 
 The ancient Mythology, will be shown 
 
 As angelic beings around God's throne I 
 
 Pray, watch you the tiniest blade of grass, 
 That grows at your feet as you daily pass, 
 Then cover it over Avith wood or stone, 
 With the costliest gem, or a golden throne — 
 Plead with it, and beg that there may be seeu, 
 When the stone is removed, its natural green ! 
 Go gather the priests of this modern world, 
 Let the banners of Jesus be unfurled ! 
 Bring angels from Heaven, if they so desire. 
 Then surround the pale grass with miles of fire ; 
 Bring all the proud monarchs who ever were born. 
 
23 POEMS AJiTD SELECTIONS. 
 
 With their marble liearts and unseemly scorn — 
 
 Alexander, Caesar, Napoleon the Great, 
 
 Attilla the Hun, in his barbarous state ; 
 
 Bring the great Carthaginian, who once held Rome 
 
 In panic for years — yea, let them all come ! 
 
 Bring Bajazet and the fierce Tamerlane ; 
 
 Bring old Coeur-de-Lion, and all whose fame 
 
 Hath ever yet gained them renown on earth ; 
 
 Bring high-minded men and Avomen, whose worth 
 
 Shall live on for ever till time shall end — 
 
 Then ask all the poets, wlio ever could bend 
 
 The thoughts of a tyrant away to love. 
 
 And all the departed who reign above ; 
 
 Bring sculptors of old, Avho had power to impart 
 
 Almost human love to a marble heart. 
 
 With the far-famed skill of Phidias the Greek, 
 
 Who could carve like the lightning, and make the 
 
 streak 
 Of the sunbeam warm up a marble cheek ; 
 Tliat distance to chiselled statues would lend 
 The well-known form of some long-lost friend ; 
 Bring painters from every land and clime. 
 Who can portray nature, grand, sublime ; 
 Who can paint fresh bloom on a fair one's cheek, 
 Till you listen in awe to hear her speak ; 
 And depict such anguish in mouth and eye 
 That you bow in respect to hear her sigh ; 
 And portray what the heart hath plainly told. 
 Until her insensible form lies cold. 
 Tennyson, Taylor, nor Longfellow can 
 By no means exceed the power of man — 
 
JESUS PKEACniXG ABOUT THE LILY. 23 
 
 Each and all might try, but would have to pass, 
 
 For colorless still is the Hade of grass ! 
 
 !N"ow remove the stone or the golden throne, 
 
 The cause of its sickness is overthrown ; 
 
 And what all others lacked in strength and j)ower 
 
 Is shown by the sun and an April shower ; 
 
 And the grass once more is now plainly seen 
 
 AVaving erect with its beautiful green. 
 
 / see, and / hnoiv, and I plainly tell, 
 
 That the sun is heaven and cold is hell ! 
 
 John My-lore. 
 
 Corner of Milliard and Brattle Streets, 
 Cambridge, Mass., 
 
 AfarchXWi. 1868. 
 
 JESUS preaching'about the lily. 
 
 [Written upon a picture in Sargent's window on the main street, 
 Cleveland, O., by J. Goodman, on May 30, 1860, at 256 Superior st.] 
 
 There stood Jesus, by the Eiver, 
 By the flowing Jordan's side, 
 
 As He preached about the Lily, 
 Which the water grew beside. 
 
 He stood erect, yet meek and Godlike, 
 As He, barefooted, trod the sod. 
 
 He looked like no other mortal — 
 Jesus Christ, the Son of God. 
 
24 POEMS AND SELECTIONS. 
 
 See the women, and their children, 
 How they gaze into His face ; 
 
 Listening to the inspiration, 
 As He speaks with Heavenly grace. 
 
 See the men, strong built and taAvny — 
 
 Looking like a little child 
 Gazing at its Angel Mother, 
 
 While listening to her tones so mild. 
 
 We cannot speak the same of Moses, 
 
 For he an Egyptian slew ; 
 We cannot speak the same of David, 
 
 For he was a murderer too. 
 
 We cannot speak of good King Alfred, 
 I^Tor of Napoleon the Great, 
 
 For they committed deeds of slaughter 
 To benefit the church or state. 
 
 But He, who preached about the Lily, 
 
 Was an inoffensive man ; 
 And He taught, to us poor mortals. 
 
 The one great, good and glorious i)lan. 
 
 A new commandment He did utter. 
 Unto His lov'd earthly brother, 
 
 On which hangs the law and prophets : 
 Love ye, love ye one another. 
 
 He showed how old-fashioned notions 
 
 Must be clearly cast away, 
 To fit them for the after life 
 
 Of a coming, glorious day. 
 
BOADICEA. 35 
 
 He also showed how worldly splendor, 
 Or any kind of human pride, 
 
 Was in His eye to goodness nothing, 
 So he e'er against them cried. 
 
 Then He taught the callous-hearted 
 To grant the Mercy they'd be shown, 
 
 And if any were less guilty, 
 
 Then let him only cast the stone. 
 
 And speaking of the lovely Lily, 
 The moral did His hearers please. 
 
 Said : '^ Solomon in all his glory 
 Was not arrayed like one of these." 
 
 BOADICEA OF ICENI IN BRITAIN. 
 
 [Written by John Goodman, at the Northern Ohio Lunatic Asyluni, 
 Newburgh, Ohio, March 8th, 1874, in Ward 9.] 
 
 Boadicea, Queen in Britain, 
 Of the ancient tribe Iceni, 
 Who formerly from Ithaca 
 Did leave the shores of ancient Greece, 
 Landed on the coast of Albion, 
 Then blended with the islanders. 
 Who, before the time of Caesar, 
 Came in wicker boats from Gaulland. 
 
 Boadicea of Iceni, 
 
 Beautiful, majestic woman ; 
 
 In the reign of monstrous Nero, 
 
36 POEMS AND SELECTIONS. 
 
 Emperor of all the Komaiis ; 
 In the reign of bloody Nero, 
 In an ignominious manner, 
 By an order of the cruel 
 Savage Roman monster, Nero, 
 She was scourged with cruel lashes 
 On her lovely naked shoulders, 
 In the presence of her daughters 
 And the warriors of Iceni. 
 In presence of the British tribes, 
 Her body bared before soldiers — 
 Eude, uncultivated soldiers — 
 Rude as barbarous Alaric ; 
 Before haughty Roman Legions, 
 Conquerors of the Iceni, 
 Conquerors of Southern Britain, 
 Near the town of Columindine. 
 Teeth of haughty Boadicea 
 Gnashed together in her madness. 
 She lifted up her bare right arm, 
 Called on all the gods to aid her ; 
 Jove, the Thunderer, high in heaven. 
 And his consort, wondrous Juno; 
 Called on Mars, the mighty war god ; 
 Called on Venus, lovely Venus ; 
 Gods and goddesses to aid her; 
 Called on them in tones of anguish. 
 Called on them in tones of madness ; 
 She called on them with woman's tears. 
 The beautiful Boadicea, 
 With a fire-brand fiercely flaming, 
 
BOADICEA. 27 
 
 With her golden hair disheveled, 
 
 With her scarred and bloody shoulders. 
 
 Called upon her brave Iceni ; 
 
 Called upon the hrave barbarians, 
 
 Xoble-minded, high-souled Britons, 
 
 All to rise and fight for freedom ; 
 
 Called on them for to avenge her ; 
 
 Called on them to aid her vengeance, 
 
 To destroy the haughty Romans; 
 
 Show the boasting Roman Legions 
 
 How her noble tribe Iceni, 
 
 Show them how her noble Britons 
 
 For her and liberty could fight. 
 
 Near the City of Verulium, 
 
 On the hill where now stands Warwick, 
 
 Long before the warlike Mercians 
 
 Held their dread sway at Conventree,* 
 
 Down near where now Southampton stands ; 
 
 All along the noble river, 
 
 Near where stands the splendid castle 
 
 Norman builded, ancient Windsor — 
 
 Boadicea, in her chariot, 
 
 Uttering streams of burning language. 
 
 Swearing dreadful oaths of vengeance, 
 
 Drove in unmolested fury. 
 
 Beckoning every one to freedom ; 
 
 Urging the whole tribe Iceni, 
 
 All who could carry spear or shield. 
 
 Who could wield an axe in battle, 
 
 All those who could a chariot drive, 
 
 * Modern Coventry. 
 
2S POEMS A^B SELECTIONS. 
 
 All who could hurl a burning brand ; 
 
 Begged of them, as noble Britons, 
 
 As bold warriors loving freedom. 
 
 To Join hands in one endeavor, 
 
 To join hearts and fight for freedom ; 
 
 Fight the bloody-minded Eomans ; 
 
 Conquer them, destroy their legions, 
 
 All the iron-hearted Eomans ; 
 
 Destroy the emigrants from Rome, 
 And their famous city, London ; 
 Burn and devastate, destroy them ; 
 Wipe out my shame in fire and blood. 
 Take their babes, with spears impale them. 
 Hack the breasts from off their Avomen ; 
 
 Stab and slay the Eoman soldiers ; 
 
 Slash their faces, spoil their beauty ; 
 
 Let them dread to lash a woman ; 
 
 Learn them to fear Boadicea, 
 
 Fear the Queen of the Iceni, 
 
 Fear the Queen of warlike Britons. 
 
 Who in madness, and in vengeance. 
 
 Fighting bravely for our freedom 
 
 The Eomans Avill annihilate. 
 
 All along the coast of Devon, 
 From the land of roaring Humber, 
 The lands of Dorset and of Kent, 
 From the fenlands to the mountains. 
 From the island of Old Mona, 
 The isles of Anglesea and Wight, 
 From the copper lands of Cornwall, 
 From the clear lakes of Cumberland, 
 
BOA DICE A. 29 
 
 And from off the Cimrian Mountains, 
 
 From the lovely vales of Avon, 
 
 From the chalky lands of Oxon, 
 
 And the pastoral meads of Leicester; 
 
 On from every hill and valley. 
 
 On from every plain and river. 
 
 With hearts filled with dreadful vengeance, 
 
 With hearts panting for their freedom, 
 
 Full of universal ardor ; 
 
 From every tribe in Albion 
 
 Came the almost naked Britons 
 
 To combat for Queen Boadicea, 
 
 To fight the Eomans for their freedom ; 
 Bringing scythes, affixed to chariots, 
 Bringing swords and leathern bucklers. 
 Bringing spears, and bows and arrows, 
 Bill hooks and their battle axes. 
 Every kind of slaughtering weapon, 
 For to wound and slay the Romans, 
 Who stole their lands and raped their daughters. 
 Lashed the backs of lovely women. 
 Stole from them the name of freemen, 
 Tlien degraded Queen Boadicea 
 By using on her back the lash. 
 
 The Druid in his wicker cot 
 
 Practices his necromancy ; 
 
 Takes a burning, blazing fire-brand. 
 
 Casts it 'midst the naked Britons ; 
 
 Then he said: as this doth scatter. 
 
 Scatter ye the bloody Romans. 
 
 As his wild eye gleamed in madness. 
 
30 POEMS AND SELECTIONS, 
 
 He aloft his arms extending. 
 Begged the gods of cold and hnnger, 
 Begged the gods of sleet and rain, 
 Begged the gods of raging battle, 
 Begged the gods of forked lightning, 
 Jove, the awful god of Thunder, 
 
 Medusa, with snaky ringlets. 
 
 To produce a thousand horrors ; 
 
 He begged the gods of fire and blood 
 
 To help Britons in their ardor, 
 
 On the battle field of freedom 
 
 To fill each Eoman heart Avith dread. 
 Men there were of iron sinews, 
 Who builded chariots, forged their scythes. 
 Forged their bill-hooks, battle axes; 
 Men with bare legs and naked thighs, 
 Tended sheep and slaughtered cattle. 
 Many who the wild boar hunted, 
 Hunted pheasants and wild rabbits, 
 Partridge, quail and fallow deer, 
 Trained and led gigantic stallions, 
 Aad chained, when captured, savage bulls ; 
 Some days they Avould walk sixty miles ; 
 Full of courage and endeavor, 
 Hardy by their being seasoned 
 To the weather and the changes, 
 Then as noAV ujion our island. 
 
 They were tall, well built, majestic. 
 
 With graceful beard and lengthy hair, 
 
 Men of North and Central Britain 
 
 Were robust, of lofty stature ; 
 
BOADICEA. ol 
 
 Fed, most profusely, meat and grain ; 
 
 And their drink was simply water ; 
 
 Their beds were straw, and oft exchanged ; 
 
 Their cots or hovels thatched with straw ; 
 
 Thus their iron constitutions, 
 
 And their innate British valor 
 
 Nearly conquered Julius Csesar. 
 
 They in the water wade to meet, 
 
 His well armed and serried legions. 
 Their descendants with Boadicea, 
 Queen by right of the Iceni, 
 Queen of many tribes in Britain, 
 Met near Barnet and St. Albans, 
 (St. Albans, where old VeruUum stands ;) 
 Spear men there were fifty thousand. 
 Ten thousand men with battle axe, 
 Ten thousand men with hooks and bills, 
 Bows and arrows without number, 
 Five hundred chariots armed with scythes ; 
 
 The men, they wore a knitted waist, 
 
 A buckskin sheath for hunting knives ; 
 
 Their shoes were coarser than brogans. 
 
 Their garments altogether wool. 
 
 For winter wear they'd untanned skins. 
 
 They had short and simj^le lassos 
 
 They could throw with great precision ; - 
 
 These did Roman generals capture, 
 
 That they might be held as prisoners 
 
 Should they have captives to exchange, 
 
 Or redress those degradations 
 
 To which their captives must submit. 
 
32 POEMS AND SELECTIONS. 
 
 They were proud and cruel tyrants, 
 
 And trod beneath their iron heel 
 
 All the nations who submitted 
 
 To their well armed conquering legions. 
 All the towns wliich end in Cester, 
 Every town that ends in Chester, 
 They Avere Koman camps and stations ; 
 And every town that ends in wieh, 
 These depots were for Roman salt ; 
 Many of these towns were taken, 
 And every soul within them slain. 
 
 AVhat a deep feeling is revenge ; 
 
 What a passion human vengeance ; 
 
 All the blood within the bosom. 
 
 The wildest beatings of the heart, 
 
 A\\ are cultured by deep vengeance. 
 
 Thus the Britons, filled with madness, 
 
 Madness that consumes like fire, 
 
 Madness, raging, daring, savage, 
 
 Which smothers pity, deadens love ; 
 
 So, while their hearts Avere fierce and wild, 
 While they knew but one emotion. 
 They assembled and they slaughtered. 
 They destroyed and burned to ashes 
 Every fort and town and depot 
 Belonging to the hated Romans. 
 
 From Sarum on to Winchester, 
 
 From London down to Dunsmore lieath. 
 
 On again to l!^orthern Chester, 
 
 Were straight, well builded Roman roads ; 
 
 Then across to Eastern Norwich, 
 
BOAIHCEA. 33 
 
 Tlieir chief de2)ot for provisions, 
 
 Chief depot for their salt and arms. 
 
 On the roads the Britons met them, 
 And slaughtered them with wild delight ; 
 Some with Eomans intermarried, 
 Bnt love of country overcame 
 All their family affection ; 
 They, as sons, were native Britons, 
 Fought against their Eoman fathers ; 
 Women fought against their husbands. 
 They loved them well, but Britain more. 
 
 Every fort and inland depot. 
 
 They had stormed and burned to ashes, 
 
 And driven all the legions onward. 
 
 Till centered round Londinium. 
 
 Thirty thousand well trained Eomans 
 
 Were serried like a granite wall ; 
 
 All their shields, like backs of tortoise, 
 
 They seemed quite impervious to steel. 
 
 Eoman swords were short and heavy, 
 
 And Eoman spears were slight but strong, 
 
 Helmets worn for preservation, 
 
 Eoman skulls and brains defended, 
 
 AVith kilts, bare legs, and knees, and thighs, 
 
 They with strong sandals, shod their feet ; 
 
 All shewed a well arranged attire. 
 
 Their martial music, stirring drums. 
 
 Banners and their Eoman Eagles ; 
 
 With experienced commanders. 
 
 Men well taught and trained to battle ; 
 
 3 
 
34 POEMS A XI) SELECTIONS. 
 
 Brave, indeed, were Roman soldiers. 
 
 Fierce and warlike Roman legions. 
 
 And brave, indeed, Avere Roman men ; 
 
 Since when Romulns and Renins 
 
 As young babes by wolves were suckled. 
 
 Since the time of the Horatii, 
 
 Fought the Alban chiefs Curatii ; 
 
 Rome's chief, Coriolanus, 
 
 Made haughty Rome to bow and bend ; 
 
 Since the time of Junius Brutus 
 
 (And the matron, chaste Lucretia), 
 
 Since he killed the tyrant Tarquin ; 
 
 Since Virginius slew his daughter ; 
 
 Since Romans conquered every state 
 
 Belonging to the ancient Latins ; 
 
 Ere that they sold the lands round Rome, 
 
 Carthagenians were vesting. 
 
 Under Hanniball the mighty ; 
 
 Since Scipio reconquered Spain, 
 
 Led his old and well trained legions 
 
 To conquer Carthage and destroy. 
 
 By warring them in Africa ; 
 
 Since the time when Julius Caesar 
 
 Conquered Gaul and Southern Britain, 
 
 Enslaved all surrounding nations ; 
 
 Since the time when Brutus smote him ; 
 
 Since the battle of Pharsalia, 
 
 The famous one at Phillippi ; 
 
 Since the Roman Triumvirate ; 
 
 Since the death of mighty Pompey, 
 
 Of the conquering of Egypt. 
 
BOADICEA. 35 
 
 The slaughter of Mark Autliony ; 
 Since the death of Cleopatra, 
 All in the Augustan ages, 
 Down unto the time of Nero, 
 Every Eoman and each legion. 
 Each son of Italy was brave. 
 
 Think how hard it was for Britain, 
 How hard 'twas for Boadicea 
 To meet well-trained Eoman legions 
 With none but her brave barbarians, 
 And her tribe of the Iceni. 
 But she had a thirst for vengeance. 
 A thirst for deadly, keen revenge ; 
 Revenge upon the cruel Romans, 
 Revenge upon the conquerors. 
 Who lashed her fair, naked shoulders, 
 As they would lash a Nubian slave. 
 What a woman, Boadicea ; 
 How wondrous the Iceni Queen ; 
 Ask Zenobia of Palmyra, 
 Ask the glorious Queen of Sheba, 
 Ask the mighty Semiramis, 
 If their spirits they should wander. 
 If they knew in ancient story. 
 Amid all the mightiest monarchs, 
 Any Amazon or Scythian 
 Who'd compare with Boadicea. 
 
 How she fired the hearts of thousands, 
 How she fought the Roman legions, 
 How she conquered their grand army. 
 Destroying old Londinium ; 
 
36 POEMS AXD SELECTIOXS. 
 
 Slaugliteriiig fully seventy thousand, 
 
 Burning Londinium to ashes. 
 I will try to paint the picture ; 
 Help, ye gods of the Parnassus, 
 Help me all ye gracious muses, 
 Guide my numbers sweet Apollo ; 
 Give to me that inspiration, 
 Heavenly measure and sweet poesy, 
 To make great heroic effort 
 The battle to delineate. 
 
 See the Komans in their masses, 
 
 Serried like a wall of granite ; 
 
 Watch, their spears are all projecting. 
 
 Their swords gleam like scintillations, 
 
 Shields are like the armadillo. 
 
 Like scales ui)on the crocodile ; 
 
 Hear their heavy tread advancing 
 
 To the sound of martial music. 
 
 Like the sound of roaring thunder, 
 
 As they do beat terrifically 
 
 Their pondrous and loud-sounding drums ; 
 Sec their banners proudly waving. 
 See their eagles they have carried 
 Through Assyria and Egypt, 
 Through Gaul and Germany and Greece, 
 Through Asia Minor and through Spain, 
 And throughout Northern Africa ; 
 See their numerous royal standards. 
 Hear the shouts of their commanders, 
 Dressed in more than gorgeous splendor ; 
 Gold and jewels on their fingers, 
 
BOADICEA. 37 
 
 Diamonds in their sword-hilts shine. 
 'Tis a scene of wondrous beauty, 
 A scene to fill with dread alarm. 
 
 'Neath their feet the earth is shaken, 
 
 Such was their regularity; 
 
 There was force in Roman marching, 
 
 Roman weapons, and their banners. 
 
 In their fierce manner of attack ; 
 
 Quick, but steady ; sure, but furious; 
 
 Seldom troops of other nations. 
 
 E'er could cope with Roman legions. 
 You've seen flooded, flowing rivers 
 Running with most tremendous force ; 
 Rushing onward evei', ever, 
 Until they empty in the sea. 
 This is like the Roman marching. 
 Up hill, down hill, over mountains, 
 Right steady onward to the charge ; 
 The avalanche from off the Alps, 
 Bolts of Jove's imperial thunder. 
 Buffaloes in wild battalions. 
 Wild horses on the southern plains. 
 Seemed inadequate to break them, 
 'Their ranks so serried they maintain. 
 
 But when nations' s strike for freedom. 
 
 Like the French in revolution, 
 
 Then you see the sweeping whirlwind. 
 
 Then the mad raging wild typhoon ; 
 
 Then you see a world of waters, 
 
 AVilder than the waves of ocean, 
 
 More blasting than the Sirroco, 
 
38 POEMS AND SELECTI0X8. 
 
 Sweep all impediment away ; 
 Thus the Britoiis met tlie Romans, 
 With one force of fifty thousand, 
 Fifty thousand roaring lions. 
 Fifty thousand thirsting tigers, 
 Fifty thousand furious madmen, 
 Rushed impetuous, running wildly 
 With a shout like Indian whooping, 
 With long pent up indignation; 
 They like ten thousand angry hulls 
 Rush'din mass upon the Romans; 
 Cleft the wall of shields asunder. 
 While scythes on chariots in the rear. 
 Cut the Roman force to pieces. 
 Now the axes and the bill-hooks 
 Cleft the skulls and brains of Romans ; 
 Such a wild and fearful slaughter, 
 Such unmitigated horror, 
 N^ever in a single battle. 
 Perhaps, was ever seen before. 
 
 Zenghis Khan and Tamerlane fought 
 
 Many bloody, furious battles ; 
 
 Ravages of fierce Attilla, 
 
 Who surnamed the Lord's avenger. 
 
 Or the barbarous Alaric, 
 
 Hath swept away more human lives ; 
 
 Waterloo and Albuera, 
 
 Borodino, fought in Russia 
 
 Near the ancient city Moscow ; 
 
 That at Dresden, that at Leipsic, 
 
 Those at Wagram and Vienna, 
 
HO.VDICEA. 39 
 
 Showed a great amount of slaughter. 
 
 But hatred, fierce, intense hatred, 
 
 Urged on to annihihition 
 
 As the pent-up horrid vengeance, 
 
 Which the Britons had for Romans ; 
 
 Simple legions performed wonders, 
 
 Show'd their strength and martial bearing. 
 But the tall and brawny Britons, 
 Madden' d by Queen Boadicea, 
 By a lasting thirst for vengeance. 
 With desire for lasting freedom, 
 Fought with unexampled fury ; 
 Fought as fought the brave Vendeans, 
 Fought as fought the troops of Wallace ; 
 Fought as Bruce for Scotland's freedom, 
 Fought at the famous Bannockburn ; 
 Fought as fought the ancient Spartans ; 
 Fought as fought the brave Hungarians ; 
 Like the troops of black Prince Edward 
 At Cressy and at Agincourt, 
 Like the troops of Frankman Martell 
 When hosts of Saracens he sleAV ; 
 Just as Christian famed Crusaders 
 Fought at Antioch, Bogheda 
 With his three hundred thousand men. 
 Xear the walls of famished Antioch ; 
 Just as fought Judas Maccabees ; 
 Yet with much more tiger fierceness 
 Britons fought the haughty Romans. 
 So for insult, the Iceni, 
 Led by warlike Queen Boadicea, 
 
40 POEMS AXD .SELECTIONS. 
 
 Aided by the vengeful Britons, 
 Did defeat the haughty Eomans ? 
 Slaughtered troops of bloody Nero 
 To obtain once more their freedom. 
 No pen can paint, no language show, 
 'No poetic picture portray 
 All that most unequaled valor 
 Wliich those brave Britons did display. 
 Oh, ye Gods ! what horrid slaughter ! 
 See the Eoman legions kneeling. 
 Listen how they plead for mercy, 
 See the Eoman legions pleading. 
 Hear the Eoman legions praying. 
 Begging for the lash or bondage 
 With their sorrowing eyes uplifted, 
 Begging and craving for their lives. 
 
 But they mock them with their bill-hooks. 
 Mock them with their battle-axes, 
 And mock them with their bloody spears. 
 While the British swords are reeking, 
 Seeking with the blood of Eomans, 
 Boadicea in her chariot 
 Madly dashing with her horses 
 'Mid the wildest scene of carnage, 
 'Mid the scenes of blood and horror. 
 Cried out in words of madness. 
 She cried out in tones of thunder. 
 Cried without a woman's weakness: 
 "Kill the cruel, dastard Eomans !" 
 
 That day no pity touched the hearts 
 Of the warriors of Iceni, 
 
BOADICEA. 41 
 
 Or of the barbarian Britons, 
 
 All the way from old Veralium,* 
 
 Eight np to Londinium gates, 
 
 Lay the bloody Eomaii corpses, 
 
 Lay the crush' d and broken helmets, 
 
 Lay bloody swords and splintered spears. 
 
 Nearly every skull was shattered ; 
 
 Some had horrid thrusts with lances, 
 
 Some without their legs, hoth sever' d 
 
 By British frig Jiff ul chariot scythes ; 
 
 But the fearful battle-axes 
 
 CJeft the head complete asunder ; 
 
 Or, when striking on the shoulder, 
 
 Cleft the whole arm and side away. 
 
 A man from off the Cymbrian mountains, — 
 
 They called him Cymrian Carobell — 
 
 Was of most gigantic stature — 
 
 Seven feet six, the giant stood — 
 
 In the mountains he hewed timber. 
 
 Swung his battle axe above him 
 
 With so much ease, all did admire ; 
 
 Fine proportioned, thews of iron. 
 
 His strength could twist a sapling tree. 
 
 Beautiful as Greek Adonis, 
 
 A perfect match for Hercules ; 
 
 He had a manly well-toned voice, 
 
 He led an ancient Celtic tribe. 
 
 A fair young Cimrian, six feet two. 
 
 Gloriously fair proportioned. 
 
 With eyes of perfect polished jet. 
 
 Kinglets black as wing of raven, 
 
 * St. Alban's now, 
 
42 POEMS AND SELECTIONS. 
 
 Grander in her glorious figure 
 Than the splendid Queen of SheV)a: 
 Her teeth a perfect row of pearls. 
 And the music of her language 
 Like the harp tones of Apollo, 
 Or the words which angels wliis[)er, 
 "Were commanding, soft and gentle, 
 Or plaintive as a minor tone ; 
 Then her lovely bust and shoulders. 
 And her limbs in line proportion, 
 Made her look a iserfect Juno ; 
 Showed a woman of such beaut}^ 
 Such as gods on Mount Olympus, 
 Might fairly worship and adore. 
 This lovely maid was Clorandine. 
 And Carobell and Clorandine 
 Were that morning to be wedded. 
 When the Briton war cry sounded. 
 So he called to arms his Cymrians, 
 Kissed his Clorandine and parted ; 
 Strode along o'er hills and mountains. 
 Marched with ardor through the valleys 
 With his warriors; found Boadicea 
 Har war horses and chariot, 
 With her daughters and the Britons, 
 And the warriors of Iceni, 
 Near the town of Verulium. 
 She chose ]tim and the Iceni 
 For to lead the van of battle ; 
 Centre of the fifty thousand — 
 With his most tremendous axe. 
 
BOADICEA. 43 
 
 His blows were like a sledge of steel ; 
 
 Crash'd the Koman ranks asunder 
 
 And sent them reeling right and left : 
 
 Hewed away with the Iceni 
 
 And the tribe he brought from Oymri, 
 
 Aided by the fifty thousand 
 
 To the rear of all the Romans ; 
 
 Then turned round, once more, and smote them, 
 
 Smote hip and thigh, and head and neck, 
 
 Severed oft their trunks asunder; 
 
 The Roman army was a wreck, 
 
 Then old Londinium was burned. 
 
 And the city left in ashes. 
 
 Oarobell with wreath of myrtle. 
 And spear head of so' id silver, 
 And rich golden-hilted sword 
 Set with costly sparkling diamonds 
 Which he captured from a general. 
 Returned to his Cymrian mountains 
 And wedded lovely Clorandine. 
 
 The Britons rested for awhile. 
 
 Bathed themselves within the river, 
 
 Bathed in the royal river Thames ; 
 
 Full five thousand Roman soldiers 
 
 Escaped within Londinium's walls, 
 
 But the most of them were wounded ; 
 
 The inhabitants of London, 
 
 All the proud visitors from Rome, 
 
 Generals' wives, and all their children, 
 
 With all their jewels, wealth and gold, 
 
 Were Avithin the walls environed. 
 
44 POEMS AND SELECTIOXS. 
 
 No retreat except by water. 
 But soon a host of wicker boats 
 Left the road of egress doubtful. 
 The Britons jell and soon assault, 
 Assault with redoubled fierceness ; 
 One by one the forts were taken, 
 Then the gates were burned and broken. 
 Walls were sealed, and Londinium 
 Was the scene of dreadful slaughter. 
 Britons were unlettered furies ; 
 Fire and sword, and spears and axes. 
 Soon did their bloody, horrid work ; 
 The lovely daughters of old Kome, 
 Splendid matrons, Roman womeiT, 
 Some beautiful as Poppea, 
 And as Cleopatra graceful. 
 Every human type of beauty, 
 Some as lovely as Greek Venus ; 
 Fair-haired, blue-eyed, from the German, 
 With ruddy cheeks and rosy lips; 
 While some with hair as black as coal, 
 Eyes of polished jet, which dazzled, 
 Thrilling, with exquisite beauty ; 
 The lovely Jewish type proclaimed. 
 Curled locks and Egyptian noses. 
 Dress magnificent and costly; 
 Their toilet articles were choice ; 
 Their furniture was richly wrought. 
 And statuary most unique ; 
 Silver and gold plate Avas massive. 
 Their chains Avere of Etruscan gold, 
 
BOADICE.V. 45 
 
 AVith signet rings of precious stones ; 
 
 Medallions choice and elegant. 
 The sons of Eomans, the elite ; 
 All the artists who came over, 
 Whose object gold, oi- to refine, 
 All were slaughtered by the vengeance 
 Of a myriad of Britons, 
 And the ire of Boadicea. 
 Seventy thousand men and women. 
 Including children, were destroyed. 
 All because the cruel Romans 
 Lashed the back of Boadicea, 
 Insulted the Iceni's Queen. 
 
 Thus the Britons, in their vengeance, 
 
 Slew the people, burned the city. 
 To their wooden plows and harrows. 
 To their hammers and their anvils. 
 Unto their fields to reap the grain, 
 To their various fields of pasture. 
 They returned in gladdened masses. 
 Forgot in their security, 
 The wondrous power of mighty Eome ; 
 AVho, from the lands of ancient Gaul, 
 From the plains of Hispanola, 
 From Appenines and Pyrenees, 
 From the land of old Iberia, 
 From old Thrace and Macedonia, 
 From the towns of Asia Minor, 
 And from the towns of ancient Greece, 
 Enlisted troops from every land ; 
 Brought the Ebon and the Nubian, 
 
46 POEMS AXD SELECTIONS. 
 
 Some from round old ruined Carthage. 
 Syria, Judea, Egypt, 
 The wanderers from Arabia, 
 Every town and every nation 
 Helped to swell the ranks of Eomans, 
 Helped to form those famous legions, 
 In a little while contended 
 Under their chief, Seutonius, 
 Who, when her Britons were away. 
 And picked men of the Iceni 
 And the flower of all the Britons, 
 He fell upon the Iceni queen. 
 Thus he conquered her in battle. 
 And enslaved again the Britons, 
 Did enslave the brave Iceni, 
 Once more built up ruined London. 
 Boadicea, with her daughter, 
 When she saw her army slaughtered 
 By recruited Eoman legions, 
 Took within her hand a phial 
 Filled with poison, it most deadly, 
 Called her vanquished troops around her, 
 And these words by her were spoken : 
 Listen to me noble Britons, 
 And ye wreck of my Iceni, 
 While I tell you words prophetic : 
 Gaul on Avhom the Romans trample. 
 With Franks or freemen soon will blend, 
 Flaxen-haired from o'er the Danube, 
 Belgie, Teutons from the Rhineland, 
 Goths and Yandals. and Helvetians, 
 
BOAUICEA. ~ 
 
 Arabs, Scythians and Tartars, 
 
 German nations, without number. 
 
 Atilla, fierce, wild Alaric, 
 
 Shall arise in deadly vengeance, 
 
 Boiling o'er with indignation, 
 
 Eemembering their former insults ; 
 
 Paying back, with scorn unbounded. 
 
 Forgetting not their former bondage ; 
 
 Reimburse from stolen taxes 
 
 All that's left from dissipation. 
 
 All iinwasted, in their splendor. 
 
 Of riches in Imperial Rome. 
 
 Then the virtue of their women. 
 
 Honor of their lovely daughters. 
 
 Shall be deflowered and destroyed ; 
 
 Their babes shall be torn asunder 
 
 Dashed to pieces on the pavements ; 
 
 Their men be taken and enslaved. 
 
 As bondsmen made to bear the yoke ; 
 
 Their refined and glorious women, 
 
 Be slaves to brutal conquerors. 
 
 Shall cleanse their stables, feed their swine ; 
 
 Romans shall be cringing beggars, 
 
 A nation of poor crouching slaves ; 
 
 Thus shall every tribe and people 
 
 Destroy the proud and haughty Romans, 
 
 Hun Atilla, God's avenger. 
 
 Shall rush like liquid streams of fire ; 
 
 Sweep away their cultivation ; 
 
 For by their conquests they have min\e 
 
 Enemies of every nation. 
 
 Made foes of every land on earth. 
 
48 POEMS AXD SELECTIOXS. 
 
 But the little island Britain, 
 Held in sway by Roman legions, 
 Shall become the mightiest nation 
 On this green earth was ever seen. 
 And Eastern conntries own her sway, 
 Not e'en known to hanghty Romans. 
 
 All the earth shall own her grandeur. 
 
 All the world shall learn her language ; 
 
 All mankind be her religion. 
 
 One uniyersal brotherhood ; 
 
 Then the Millenium shall come. 
 
 She drank the poison, and exclaimed: 
 
 I die free. Queen Boadicea. 
 
 THE BEAUTIFUL LIGHT. 
 
 [Written by John Goodman, November 12, 1867, at 422 Case avenue, 
 Cleveland, Ohio. 
 
 I'll sing of the light, the beautiful light, 
 Of its luminous queen, transparent, bright ; 
 Of arrows of gold, in thy fountains dipjjed. 
 Of rich rosy tints w^hicli the mountains tipped ; 
 Aurora appears with the blushing morn, 
 And the mantle of gold the moon hath worn ; 
 The beauty reflected at sunset eve ; 
 From thee doth the lily its whiteness receive. 
 The heart of the rose at thy smile doth blush, 
 At thy faintest glance doth the purple rush 
 (While 'tis covered with dew, and pearly wet). 
 To the timid, retiring violet ; 
 
THE BEAUTIFUL LIGHT. 40 
 
 In the dewy mists of the luizy morn 
 When night's pall from the mountain's lirow is torn. 
 As thou liftest thy veil of gauze to the skies. 
 From the throats of sweet warblers doth praise arise. 
 Like bright shining silver, each lake appears, 
 Your particles scintle its rippling tears. 
 The loveliest vale, with its emerald green. 
 Is wrought from the smiles of thy silver sheen ; 
 The morn, at thy l)i(lding, fresh pearls doth fling ; 
 From thy robes do Eubies and Diamonds spring ; 
 Thou art seen in forests, on hill or dale, 
 Thy fairy boat o'er each surface doth sail ; 
 JSToon gathers them up, and then wreaths doth weave 
 To crown thy retreating fair form at eve. 
 Showing thy glory, thy parting bequest. 
 As thou sinkest t.o peace in the distant west ; 
 Thou hast ridden high, through tlie vaulted sk}'. 
 In thy car of sun]:)eams do fleetly fly, 
 Yet like crystal rays in the drooping shower, 
 You bend lowly to kiss the opening flower, 
 Venus dippeth her queenly robes anew 
 In thy fountain dyeth them azure blue. 
 And as soon as the darkened night is born. 
 Pale Luna she filleth her silver horn; 
 At night in the Dome of thy Palace blue. 
 You pierce it with holes to let glory through; 
 'Tis the time when the Fairies leave their caves. 
 In sea shells to float on the dancing Avaves, 
 While spirits ride forth on their misty cars, 
 Admiring thy light, in the twinkling stars. 
 When tliou veilest thy face, the dark clouds weep 
 
 4 
 
50 POEMS AND SELECTIONS. 
 
 And sob till the tear drops soothe them to sleep; 
 Changed into jewels they gratefully bring 
 Sweet odors from Earth, incense to their King, 
 Who stretches thy arch, far above his throne, 
 And tingeth tlie bow of the watery zone, 
 Until all its colors, reflected bright, 
 Are seen in that mystical Bow of light. 
 The care-worn and wearied ones of the earth. 
 Love it, first ushered them in at their birth. 
 The fever-tossed watch for the coming l^ht 
 And wrapped in thy mantle do take their flight. 
 More beautiful even than thou, sweet light. 
 Is the spirit, tliy offspring, fair and bright. 
 Its robe is purity, glory its crown, 
 Its mantle holiness, faith its renown. 
 Its home is far distant, in pure skies bright, 
 And Cometh from God, the Father of light. 
 
 AN ODE TO ALFRED TENNYSON, 
 
 POET LAUREATE OF ENGLAND. 
 
 ^Written May 10, 1SG7, at Mr. Silas Boardman's, Brighton, near 
 Rochester, New York.] 
 
 I marvel not at thy wonderful name ; 
 
 I wonder not thou art Laureate of fame; 
 
 How entranced am I at thy art and skill, 
 
 I am proud of thy strength, thy jiower of will ; 
 
 I love each sentence of silver and gold. 
 
 Thy language is richer than mines untold. 
 
 You write of fresh foliage, blooming and green, 
 
ODE TO ALFRED TENNYSON. 51 
 
 You talk of bright Flowers in summer's slieen, 
 
 Speak of the beautiful winding rivers, 
 
 The Aspen leaf as it quakes and shivers, 
 
 Of deep blue, crimson, and burnished gold, 
 
 Skies, fields, and Palaces stately and old; 
 
 You teach of pure love in the human eye. 
 
 Yet mild as the Luna light in the sky; 
 
 To me a most wondrous joy you impart, 
 
 As you tell of deep love in the human heart; 
 
 Innocent children who roll on the lawn ; 
 
 Of lambkins who skip in the earliest daAvn. 
 
 Your glorious sentences make the world ring 
 
 With sweet, flowery words, thou poetic king, 
 Oh, I have a wonderful strange desire 
 To gaze on the sun, the poetic fire 
 Within my mind makes me wish to excel 
 In language, sweet poesy ; there is a sj^ell 
 Thou hast over me thrown ; I am not to blame 
 If I wish for the holy of holies of fame; 
 I am a Daisy, I lay at thy feet. 
 Look up, and my well pleased eyes do meet 
 The passion flower, or the beautiful rose ; 
 'Tis thee and thy rhythm that doth disclose 
 What a distance between the earth and sky. 
 What a distance there is between You and I. 
 Oh ! had I been born 'neath an Eastern sun. 
 Ere the Christian era had first begun. 
 As a Persian, had dwelt in the land of flowers, 
 Had read its Lore, and exjiended my hours 
 In describing those Oriental scenes, 
 Where Rivulets flow, and water careens, 
 Where birds, ever musical, slug in groves. 
 
o3 P0E.M8 AND SELECTIONS. 
 
 In praise of the Sun, or their warbling loves ; 
 Had I seen Cyrus, the mighty in war, 
 As he rode in his grand triumphal car. 
 And had seen his grand army, glitt'ring bright, 
 With their shining helmets, — entrancing sight ; 
 Or had seen them with gorgeous golden spoils 
 With kings and princes enslaved in their coils ; 
 Or gem-clad Captives avIio wailed the breeze. 
 As sadly they pass'd o'er the Euphrates, 
 Or had seen bright stars in an Eastern sky 
 Which seem to bless Earth as they glorify ; 
 Perhaps then, and then only, I might have tried 
 To have sung, or in the wilderness cried, 
 And taught in new language that holy creed 
 Which man doth assist in his greatest need ; 
 Then although a space of a thousand years 
 Had rolled between us, and humanity's tears, 
 Which shed would have formed a voluminous stream; 
 Yet I then would have met thee in my dream ; 
 Thou would' st be a rose on a flourishing tree. 
 And I a small bud, by the side of thee. 
 
 SCHILLER AND CHARLOTTE. 
 
 [Written by John Goodman, March 8, 1874:, at the Northern Ohio 
 Lnnatic Asylum, Ward 8, Newburgh, Cuyahoga County, Ohio.] 
 
 When thou art gone, my Schiller, from my side. 
 And I feel humbled in my woman's pride, 
 The sun will shine, but will not shine for me. 
 The clouds be rent, and weep in agony ; 
 The gleaming sky be dark, all nature dead. 
 
SCIIILLEK AND CHAELOTTE. 53 
 
 And sorrow light, upon my heart and head, 
 
 For I have lived for Schiller, lived for fhee, 
 
 Hoped for thy love throughout eternity ; 
 
 Yet thou wilt not be happy, for thy heart 
 
 Will tell thy soul what thou hast lost, the dart 
 
 Will pierce and rankle, and thy cheek in pride. 
 
 Even when taken at its coolest tide, 
 
 Will redden. Thou in thy innermost soul 
 
 Will be all flame, burning beyond control ; 
 
 And yet thy Charlotte will not Schiller chide, 
 
 For shouldst thou leave me, in hauteur and pride, 
 
 Thou wilt then find thou has cast thy bread 
 
 On stormy waters ; the incessant tread 
 
 Of grief upon thy mind will surely tell 
 
 That thou hast exchanged thy Heaven for deep Hell. 
 
 (rood comes from Evil, Evil follows Good, 
 I live ujDon thy fame, tltou art my food ; 
 Thou art my summer, and I love thy sun. 
 It were too glorious if my race is run ; 
 Were we perfection, lovely, fair and true, 
 No disappointments e'er could come, no rue, 
 But human life is checquered, and in mind 
 Some soar to highest heav'ns, and they find. 
 As history ever doth the record tell. 
 That, like the God of Morning, when He fell 
 The Angels groaned ; and, Schiller, when you die. 
 One universal groan, one heart-rending cry. 
 Will tell Earth's sympathy, how a human heart 
 With sadness filled, doth sorrow e'er impart. 
 So Schiller thou, when thou hast sorrow seen, 
 Will fiy to Charlotte, .^he thine own licart's queen. 
 
54 POEMS AND SELECTIONS. 
 
 What are Kings or Princes, Gems or gold. 
 
 Or all the gorgeousness of wealth untold 
 
 Compared with inspiration from above, 
 
 Or the deep warmth of an impassioned love : 
 
 Or what is broad Demesne, or power or land 
 
 With all plethoric wealth can e'er command : 
 
 What are high titles, ceremonial form. 
 
 Beside a loving heart that's true and warm ? 
 
 What is choice Logic, choicer art and skill, 
 
 Or power to act with an Imperial will ; 
 
 Or power of speech, artistic eloquence. 
 
 Or public plaudits, as a recompense. 
 
 Beside the warmth and ardency of love. 
 
 Those God-like feelings giv'n from Heav'n above? 
 
 What are Relations, and your dearest friends? 
 
 They have their motives, hobbies, and their ends. 
 
 Look through their hearts, and every leaf unfold, 
 
 And see the smouldering fire grow dim and cold. 
 
 Nothing on earth will bring a recompense, 
 
 No matter what the feeling, how intense. 
 
 Except an ardent heart that's filled with love, 
 
 As that for Juno felt by the great Thunderer, Jove. 
 
 SCHILLER AND CHARLOTTE. 
 
 [Written March 8th, 1874, at the Northern Ohio Lunatic Asylum, 
 Ward 8.] 
 
 Ah, Schiller, how I loved thee, words can never tell. 
 Thy spirit, thy great soul, the beautiful I love ; 
 Thou art my saint, my idol, yea, my Demi-God. 
 Depart not from me Schiller, spare the rod 
 
SCHILLER AND CHAKLOTTE. 55 
 
 That chastens, purifies, destroys, for in thine eyes. 
 Thy creative genius, thy noble thoughts, a spell 
 High as the heavens, and more j^owerful than Jove 
 When He hurls down liis thunder, when his angry nod. 
 Hurls like terrific whirlwinds, lightnings to the sod. 
 Confused creation leaps, and gravitation flies 
 Unto the earth's remote, then quietly it dies. 
 
 I know thy meaning Schiller, know thy inner mind, 
 I know thou lovest Charlotte, and that thou art kind. 
 But thou hast wonderful ambition, thy soul soars 
 Into the awful regions of deep space, I see 
 Thee guide thy fairy boat, as through the azure skies 
 It divinely floats in Chariot gorgeous. My part 
 Is, to admire and love. Love is not always blind. 
 I know the Titan greatness of thy mind, which towers 
 Over all creation's bounds. It divinely pours 
 Thy sympathy into my heart, and wipes mine eyes, 
 And cools my burning breath, and soothes my stifled 
 cries. 
 
 AVhat glorious inspiration, Schiller, hast thou brought 
 
 Into my imaginings, glimmers of thy soul 
 
 Are like scintillations, which on aerial cars 
 
 Of Ether ride, as they shoot through the ambient air 
 
 Seem lofty, gorgeoiis, grand, beyond the mind whose 
 
 thought 
 Holds a deep, holy converse with my inner soul, 
 Creating sorrow sad, and those wild inward wars 
 That throw all tortured Nature with her stringent laws 
 Into the most dread confusion, and lay thy bosom bare 
 And join it unto mine in an untimely snare. 
 
5G POEMS AND SELECTIOXS. 
 
 And say, sweet Schiller dear, that you do Charlotte love, 
 Say that no single part of thy dear cherished heart, 
 No single particle of ardent in thy brain, 
 That is entire thy own, but hers ; and once again 
 Speak those loving, burning Avords, that tear up, and 
 
 scare 
 Until the rent heart's stricken, and the sacred grove 
 Where my heart's pure love is hidden, is torn apart. 
 Wounded and tortured with the fearful, rankling smart, 
 And tears are shed in torrents, flowing like the rain. 
 Then furrows deep the cheek, whilst in thine own will 
 
 wear. 
 Until thy harrowed thoughts are sunk in deej) despair. 
 
 Oil, Schiller, hear me darling, wliile I truly tell 
 
 To thee my deep, deeji sorrow, then 3'our heart will 
 
 break ; 
 I never, never wronged you, never tried to sell. 
 You were my daily sunrise, were my morning streak. 
 You were the glory of the bright etherial skies, 
 The gorgeousness of grandeur, from thy meaning eyes 
 I gathered inspiration, and I did enjoy 
 The harmonies in nature, moments swiftly fly. 
 Schiller, best thou wert witli me ever, no control 
 I ever tried to gain, for tliij dear image dwelt 
 W^ithin my inmost heart, and thy glorious soul 
 Seemed blended in with mine, if thine own heart did 
 
 melt. 
 
ADDRESS. 57 
 
 ADDRESS OF JOHN GOODMAN, 
 
 [On July 5th, for July 4th, 1875, when a patient of the N. O. L. A., 
 Newbiu'gh, O.. Written in Room 9, Ward 9.] 
 
 Laijies akd Gextlemex: On Tiiesduy, the sixth of 
 July, it will be one hundred years since John Hancock, 
 the Carrolls of Carrollton, and other l)rave patriots, 
 signed the D'eclaration of American Independence, fear- 
 less of consequences. The beacon light of liberty, the 
 meteor star to enslaved mankind, was hung in the light- 
 house of Freedom, and those brave patriots placed it as 
 a landmark for the pilgrims of hope, as a starting point 
 for universal liberty. Then, this was a weak Nation. On 
 July the 4th, 1776, the Congress of the States adopted 
 the Declaration of Independence. 
 
 The colonies, numerically weak, were strong in faith 
 and warred against the mightiest power on Earth for 
 their independence and their freedom, and to obtain a 
 constitution under which theii could live in peace and 
 harmony with themselves and the rest of mankind. 
 
 At Concord, at Boston on Breed's or Bunker Hill, at 
 New York, at White Plains, on Long Island, at Phila- 
 delphia, at Brandy wine and at Germantown they fought; 
 till at length Providence favored American arms, and 
 Burgoyne surrendered to Gates at Saratoga. 
 
 The Guerrilla warfare of Green, Morgan, Sumpter and 
 Marion assisted the operations of the Colonists, and in 
 five years, the war was terminated by the surrender of 
 Cornwallis, at Yorktown, to the combined French and 
 American forces under Kochambeau and Washington. 
 
 The present federal constitution of the United States 
 
58 POEMS AND SELECTIONS. 
 
 was adopted in 1789, and George Washington, once a 
 Colonel in the British Army, became the first President 
 of the United States. 
 
 Had I the wondrons power of Cicero, 
 
 The eloquence of Greek Demosthenes, 
 Great power of language, one grand overflow 
 
 Of classic words, like Grecian Socrates ; 
 Had I the clear and philosophic mind 
 
 Of Locke or Bacon, wit of Sheridan, 
 Portraying strength and elegance combined 
 
 Of all those ancient, gifted-minded men 
 Who lit the world; with moral grandeur crowned, 
 
 And stand unrivaled, and the most renowned ; 
 Could I like Solomon in famous songs. 
 
 Or like King David, in his language choice. 
 Speak of our people and their daily wrongs; 
 
 Or like Apollo tune my heart and voice; 
 Or like to Wallace, make one grand appeal ; 
 
 Like Hofer speak those burning words which tell 
 With energy pourtray the public weal ; 
 
 Enchant and bind you in a Classic spell ; 
 Or like the early Brutus chain the *mind 
 
 By scathing eloquence, like the Hermit,* fire 
 The whole of Christendom, until combined 
 
 The states of Europe had one grand desire ; 
 Or like the Maccabees, whose wondrous power 
 
 Of eloquence, and grandeur of design, 
 Did blend opposing parties in an hour. 
 
 And those who fought and hated did combine 
 
 *Peter the Hermit. 
 
ADDRESS. 59^ 
 
 Into one glorious army, to set free 
 
 Their native land ; who fought against all odds, 
 And with a burning thirst for Liberty, 
 
 Fought like so many Neys or Demigods ; 
 Caractacus, the Briton, whose appeal 
 
 To Claudius, told in language pure and clear, 
 That he loved freedom and his nation's weal ; 
 
 To him, a prisoner. Liberty was dear. 
 
 Shall I forget that Harewood, who alone, 
 
 With sixty Englishmen, did fight for years, 
 Daring the Norman Monarch on his throne, 
 
 And weeping o'er his country's fate, with tears 
 Of burning shame and sorrow, till his heart 
 
 Was cold as death ; or as a Cauldron, boiled ? 
 Revenge on Tyrants, ever told the smart 
 
 That pained like Greek fire, for freedom foiled ; 
 Had I the language, and the fire appeal 
 
 Of murdered Emmet, who doth silent sleep 
 With millions worshiping his patriot zeal. 
 
 Whose purity did make his judges weep ; 
 Were I like Sadi, Persian Hero slain. 
 
 Who with his handful of brave mountaineers. 
 Fought battle after battle o'er again. 
 
 Until o'ertaken by his deadly foe, 
 
 O'erwhelmed and murdered by a crushing blow. 
 Then would I in loud Clarion notes resound 
 
 Of great John Hancock (and of Washington), 
 Who with a majesty and grace profound. 
 Did sign and act, until the battle won 
 
 That did set free a nation from the coils 
 
 Of British wrath and power, that gave us peace. 
 
'€0 POEMS AND SELECTIONS, 
 
 A resting place from our laborious toils, 
 
 And brought that commerce did our wealth in- 
 crease. 
 Oh, glorious Fourth I the proudest natal day 
 
 That ever graced a Nation, or rejoiced 
 The glowing human heart ; I truly say 
 
 I wish you joy, and speak witli trumpet voice, 
 That all mankind may hear, in thunder tones, 
 
 That all the people on the earth may hear, 
 That European Tyrants on their thrones. 
 
 Trembling, may repent, with hearts filled with 
 fear ; 
 Although twelve years and eight days passed away 
 
 Ere our grand constitution they adopt. 
 And many of the State rights lopped away, 
 
 Yet it Avas glorious seed, and it hath cropjied 
 A mammoth land with freedom, brought that joy 
 
 That we who meet together on this day. 
 Can tell our Children's Children, as each eye 
 
 Is gazing on our face, while we do say 
 A hundred years had come, a hundred gone, 
 
 Wlien Ave all meet that day to celebrate. 
 Our freedom is achieved, our battle won, 
 
 We the Centennial, then will consecrate. 
 Our English mother fought a hundred years 
 Against tli' Stuarts, and unjust taxation. 
 Flooded each home and all the land Avitli tears. 
 
 To obtain freedom for the English nation ; 
 A century passed, Avhen her grandchildren fought 
 
 In Avestern lands against their mother dear. 
 NoAv science, art, and gentler thoughts have taught, 
 That the great reconciling time is near ; 
 
ADDRESS. 01: 
 
 For Britain, at our own Centennial, 
 
 Will be tlie chief of actors on the stage; 
 Let it be lasting, be perennial, 
 
 And in a binding bond let us engage ; 
 And now that Freemen have their second birth, 
 
 Let trade be free with every foreign land. 
 Till universal freedom fills the earth, 
 Let all be re-united, hand in hand ; 
 If nations be downtrodden 'neath despair. 
 
 Let England and America unite. 
 And to the scene of mortal wrong repair. 
 Proclaiming freedom, universal right ; 
 Then every tongue shall praise, and heart shall bless 
 
 Those wondrous nations who have one design. 
 Those who have had the courage to redress, 
 In elevation of, the human race to Join. 
 
 Just see the wondrous growth the States have made,. 
 
 The wondrous homage paid unto your flag, 
 
 How high her Bonds do rate in Eastern lands ; 
 
 Her Sculptors and her Painters classical ; 
 
 While Buildings on the very grandest scale. 
 
 And Cities grow with rapid giant strides ; 
 
 Mark you the tidal wave ; for in the east. 
 
 The grand intelligence, the famous wealth, 
 
 G-randeur of designs, the art and skill. 
 
 Progressing manufactures, and the power 
 
 To do, to plan, to calculate for man ; 
 
 From Manhattan's isle to Oregon, 
 
 From the great Northern Lakes unto the Gulf ; 
 
 The goods that they from Europe and Japan, 
 
 From Persia, Turkey, China, and from Ind, 
 
•62 POEMS AND SELECTIONS. 
 
 Do import, and the tools and implements, 
 They in the East do make, or the utensils 
 That they fashion, clothing that fills as freight 
 A thousand cars, that thunder west and south; 
 Watches and clocks, for millions of ol^r land; 
 The Sugars, and the Coffees, and the Teas 
 That comfort and regale; the generous "Wines, 
 And Medicines for the States ; the Cutlery, 
 The Axes, for to fell our mighty woods ; 
 They manufacture lightning for the land, 
 And send forth streams to circle round the Earth. 
 To save man's labor they have grand machines, 
 For reaping, sewing, plowing and to mow. 
 Not only for Columbia's fields and glades. 
 But they export, and Foreign Nations give 
 The benefit of Yankee art and skill. 
 A thousand things, and gum elastic one, 
 Will shew the wonders of that mighty trade, 
 That by its profits pays a Titan debt. 
 And purchases the products of the West. 
 
 Think of your generous West, prolific South. 
 Italy and Britain your Corn would feed. 
 Your Cotton clothes one-half the Human race, 
 Your Wheat and Pork, beyond your millions' here. 
 Supplies Great Britain with her surplus food; 
 Your Eggs, your Poultry, Butter, and your Cheese, 
 Feed the Mechanics of the laboring East, 
 Your Wool and Feathers warm and clothe and bed 
 Full fifty millions ; while your gold would plate 
 A continent. You yourselves purchase tea 
 For half of Europe, and make silverware 
 
ADDRESS. 63 
 
 Sufficient, quite, for every one to use ' 
 
 Who sets a table in this promised land. 
 
 The day is come that England lionoi's you, 
 
 And as your parent, you must her forgive ; 
 
 Let bygones be bygones; remember this, 
 
 That England's Language, Laws, and art and skill, 
 
 England's dramatic lore, philosophy, 
 
 Wondrous energy of our mother land 
 
 You do possess ; her famous Literature, 
 
 Her Poesy and her Prose, her sterling worth, 
 
 Her grand example to the Human race ; 
 
 The knowledge of the glorious struggles made 
 
 Eor Magna Charta and the Bill of Eights ; 
 
 All these are yours, and now old England comes 
 
 To pay her tribute to a Nation's worth ; 
 
 She, the great mistress of the modern world, 
 
 Doth come to honor on your natal day. 
 
 The mighty progress that her child hath made. 
 
 No more the Lion will look down with scorn, 
 
 No more the Eagle spreads its spacious wings 
 
 To move to combat as two Titan foes. 
 
 But with a whole souled, universal love. 
 
 Two of the grandest powers on all the earth, 
 
 With power and beauty, loveliness and worth. 
 
 Will act in harmony, and every land. 
 
 And every People on this mundane globe, 
 
 Will glory that the burning heart-sore's healed ; 
 
 That young America for mother land 
 
 Did feel ; now the Atlantic Ocean's bed. 
 
 Will be a net-work of the daily roads. 
 
 The mighty Navies, and commercial ships 
 
(;4 POEMS AXD SELECTIONS. 
 
 Of either country, to each other's shores 
 Will travel, and each great heart expanding. 
 Reveal the value of each other's souls. 
 Thus, by an interchange of courtesy, 
 The past will be forgotten and forgiven. 
 In sweet concord, which shall be perpetual, 
 The Eno-lish and Americans will live. 
 
 THE GLADIATORS' SALUTATION TO 
 C^SAR. 
 
 Written August 10, 1875, at the Northern Ohio Insane Asylum, in 
 Ward 3, by John Goodman, 433 Case Avenue, Cleveland, Qhio.] 
 
 In the ancient Coliseum, 
 
 The giant structure of old Rome, 
 
 When the numerous Gladiators, 
 
 Bravest men of every nation, 
 
 Mightiest Chieftains of each tribe, 
 
 Those who loved their country's freedom, 
 
 AVho fought for years for liberty, 
 
 To fight with savage beasts were doomed; 
 
 Warlike men, the ancient Britons, 
 
 Noble-minded men of Belgie, 
 
 Huge Teutons from the frosty land. 
 
 Fair-haired, blue-eyed, and wondrous brave ; 
 
 Celts from off the Cymrian mountains. 
 
 And the wild Hibernian savage, 
 
 Picts from off the Highland mountains, 
 
 Scots from old Caledonia ; 
 
 Saxe and Jutes beyond the Danube, 
 
THE gladiators' SALUTATION. 65 
 
 Polislied, brave Hispanolians ; 
 
 Proud magnates of Iberia, 
 
 And the scattered chiefs of Carthage, 
 
 With the wonderful Egyptian ; 
 
 Chiefs from every Syrian nation ; 
 
 Men from Athens, noble-minded. 
 
 And the proud, imperious Gaul men, 
 
 With fierce and brave determined Jews ; 
 
 All who loved their country's freedom, 
 
 All men who fought for liberty ; 
 
 These were dragged in chains to bondage 
 
 And were cast in the arena 
 
 To satisfy the bloody minds 
 
 Of the ever-conquering Eomans. 
 
 Thus a mass of great endeavor 
 
 By men of proportions classic. 
 
 With nerves of iron, limbs of steel. 
 
 The grandest human specimens 
 
 Gathered in a band promiscuous 
 
 In the Eoman Coliseum, 
 
 Did salute the Eoman Caesar. 
 
 First the naked, painted Briton, 
 
 Proud as Jove on Mount Olympus, 
 
 Thus addressed the Emjoeror Claudius : 
 
 How can you. Imperial Csesar, 
 
 With your stores of wealth unbounded 
 
 With your universal grandeur, 
 
 Degrade me with your slavery. 
 
 Deprive me of my liberty. 
 
 Envy me my cot in Britain ? 
 
 The time shall come when Britain's sons 
 
 5 
 
66 POEMS AXD SELECTIONS. 
 
 Shall rule o'er a mightier Empire, 
 Shall have a Navy of such strength 
 That yours which fought at Actium, 
 Or that captured Carthagenia, 
 AVould be a set of children's toys 
 Compared with the ships of Britain. 
 Then the Belgie, from tlie Dyke land, 
 Spoke of deeds of horrid slaughter 
 And of ravishment of beauty, 
 That e'en obtuse Roman women 
 Shuddered as they heard the story. 
 
 Next the German, proud and haughty. 
 Spoke of noble-minded Tuetons, 
 Of the Patriot hero, Herman, 
 Of the conquering of Varrus, 
 And said the time would surely come 
 When the Warriors of the Northland 
 Combined, Avould crush Imperial Eome. 
 Then the Cymrian from the mountains, 
 With a hiss of scorn contemptuous. 
 Said, not all your seried legions. 
 Headed by yonr brave commanders, 
 Ever shall enjoy the glory 
 Of conquering Britons on their hills. 
 Fiercely the wild Hibernian spake : 
 Why should ^ve, if rude, be driven 
 From our lands of fertile beauty, 
 From our lakes and charming scenery 
 To dwell in mountains and in bogs. 
 That ye curses of creation 
 Should possess our lovely valleys? 
 
THE GLADIATOKS' SALUTATION". 67 
 
 The Scottish chief, in Tartan plaid, 
 With Heron's feather in his cap, 
 Although tattered was his garment. 
 Like a King in haughty grandeur 
 Stalked in front of the arena. 
 Hurled his buckskin leathern gauntlet 
 To the frontage of proud Caesar, 
 Saying : ' 'Emperor, I defy thee ! " 
 
 A Spainard, with his arms firm folded. 
 
 And a brow of harrowing rage. 
 
 Said : Ye proud and upstart Romans, 
 
 Long before the Trojans landed, 
 
 ^-Eneas as their commander, 
 
 On the old Latinium shore. 
 
 Long ere Imperial Rome was founded. 
 
 My forefathers cities builded. 
 
 Traded with old Tyre and Sidon ; 
 
 And the same undying spirit 
 
 Guided them to former glory. 
 
 Still reigns in Hispanola. 
 Then the magnate of Iberia 
 Spake in words of boiling anger: 
 Treacherous is the so-called noble. 
 Treacherous ever is the Roman ; 
 How ye swore if we were neutral 
 In your fierce, grasping, deadly wars, 
 When ye craved for Hispanola, 
 That henceforth you would sure respect 
 All the lands of famed Iberia, 
 But when ye your roads had builded 
 Your Imperial word was broken ; 
 
68 POEMS AXD SELECTIONS. 
 
 The Romans are a band of thieves. 
 
 The Carthagenian chief next spake, 
 
 Spake with deep sorrow, mixed with rage: 
 
 HoAv insatiate are ye Romans ; 
 
 When famous Carthagenians reared 
 
 Cities built of polished marble, 
 
 Carthage, of such wondrous splendor, 
 
 Athens, Corinth, or old Thebes, 
 
 Lesbos, or Egyptian cities. 
 
 Even old famous Babylon, 
 
 Nineveh with grand proportions. 
 
 Or the city of Palmyra, 
 
 Etruscan cities of much note. 
 
 Or Antioch on rentes. 
 
 Fade before the golden splendor 
 
 Of that gold and gem-clad city. 
 
 There were palaces of marble 
 
 Carved and scrolled with choice devices, 
 
 Grapes clustered like the living fruit, 
 
 Public halls of grand proportions 
 
 With statuary oft immense, 
 
 The walls enameled green and gold, 
 
 Jaspar Pillars and Mosaics 
 
 That showed bouquets of living flowers. 
 
 Gorgeous birds of Eastern plumage 
 
 With Onyx and with Sapphire Avrought, 
 
 Even the birds of Paradise 
 
 Emblematized in precious stones ; 
 
 Every style of architecture 
 
 E'er known to Egypt or to Greece, 
 
 Known to Rome, or Asia Minor, 
 
THE GLADIATOES' SALUTATION". 69 
 
 Whatever gold, or art, or skill 
 Conld combine in glorious building, 
 Or by architect be fashioned 
 With chaste or wondrous gorgeous taste. 
 All such could be found in Carthage. 
 Fluted columns, noble arches. 
 Pillars were circled as though turned. 
 Pictures, vases, and utensils, 
 With furniture magnificent 
 Inlaid with ivory, gold and gems; 
 Pearls from out the Indian ocean 
 Were set in thousands in their chairs. 
 Turquoise bordered all their lounges, 
 Picture frames of carved coral. 
 Bedsteads were inlaid with amber. 
 Harps were fashioned with tortoise shell. 
 While gems like burning suns were set 
 In gold pure as famed Etruscan, 
 Ears were circled with pure rubies. 
 Armlets set with gorgeous emeralds. 
 And the anklets blazed with diamonds ; 
 An enormous wealth of weapons. 
 Costly gems of gold and silver. 
 Flowers rich with radiant beauty ; 
 Eoads of flint, sidewalks of granite. 
 Moles and quays of strength enormous. 
 Ships of every shore and nation ; 
 Yet ye Eoman men of iron 
 Crushed to atoms all this sjDlendor, 
 Destroyed a grand and classic people, 
 Left my Carthage clothed in ashes. 
 
70 POEMS AND SELECTIONS. 
 
 Cleopatra's brother's grandcliild, 
 Tall and erect, with eyes of fire, 
 "With a choking voice did utter 
 In the wildest Arab language, 
 Fearful, horrid imprecations ; 
 Prophesied how Eome should fall 
 And become a land of beggars, 
 Crouching, yea, humbled to the dust, 
 That they should drink the very dregs 
 Of cringing, base submissiveness. 
 And every spurning heel will crush ; 
 Be enslaved by petty princes, 
 And taught to kiss and bear the rod. 
 The Syrian, lithe as seasoned ash. 
 Supple as any willow Avithe, 
 Cast his dark eye, proudly gleaming 
 On the god of all the Romans, 
 For they worshipped all the Caesars. 
 Then he spake, in hurried language : 
 Look at Eastern lands of beaut}'. 
 All is wildness and commotion, 
 Not a single Syrian people, 
 Not a tribe in Asia Minor ; 
 None have any kind of nation 
 From Euphrates to Casjjian, 
 No people have a fatherland. 
 
 A noble Greek, of classic mould, 
 Who ever tried to raise the heart 
 Within dying Grecian people. 
 Struggling oft for Grecian freedom. 
 He pointed to the arts of Greece, 
 
THE gladiators' SALUTATION. 71 
 
 To their paintings and their statues, 
 To their wondrous power of reasoning, 
 Their mentalized jjhilosophy ; 
 Spoke of Socrates and Zeno, 
 Aristotle, Epicurus, 
 Lycurgus and Diogenes. 
 •Of Minos, of Alcibiades, 
 Of Praxiteles and Phideas, 
 And the wondrous Macedonian 
 Conqueror, famed Alexander, 
 And those Avho held Thermopylse ; 
 The Greek retreat of Xenophon, 
 And the great siege of Syracuse ; 
 Showed the grandeur of their men, 
 Various styles of architecture, 
 Of their choice and polished language. 
 Of their most wondrous art in war, 
 'Of the splendor of their buildings, 
 Of their great navies on the sea. 
 Of the knowledge of their teachers, 
 And of Spartan-G-recian firmness. 
 Their arts refined the human face. 
 But ye came like an avalanche, 
 With your numerous seried legions. 
 Pouring horde on horde upon us. 
 Till you enslaved the whole of Greece. 
 Private soldiers, with more honor 
 Than have Roman great commanders. 
 Philosophers with giant brains ; 
 All degraded, driven to bondage. 
 To grace the triumph of the Romans. 
 
72 POEMS AND SELECTIONS. 
 
 The Gaul, with long black hair, came forth,. 
 A grand, majestic type of man ; 
 Then he uttered forth his wailings. 
 Wailing for his dear native land : 
 There's no end to your ambition, 
 Conquering in a circle ever, 
 Bring Eastward legions Westward, 
 The Northmen fight in Africa, 
 You take Gauls and warlike Britons 
 To enslave Syrians and the Jews. 
 
 Then they all in one grand chorus 
 Uttered these di'ead prophetic words. 
 Listen to us while we curse you, 
 Ye men of tyranny in Rome ; 
 All the landmarks of old freedom 
 Ye have uprooted, scattered wide. 
 Just to found your mighty Empire; 
 Robbed the world by your taxation, 
 So that in every human heart 
 You have deadly vengeance gendered.. 
 An awful retribution's near, 
 Claudius ; on your late descendants 
 Will fall unheard calamities. 
 With most horrid scenes of misery. 
 When mankind can bear no longer 
 Your ever grinding tyranny. 
 They will rend the Roman Empire 
 As we rend in shreds this garment. 
 They will trample on your people 
 As thus we trample to the dust 
 These fragments we have torn and rent.. 
 
THE GLADIATOES' SALUTATION. 73^ 
 
 All your proud civilization 
 
 Most ruthlessly will be destroyed. 
 
 Your legions will be swept away, 
 
 And the heavy yoke of bondage 
 
 Shall remain a thousand years 
 
 Kiveted upon the shoulders 
 
 Of enslaved and groveling Romans. 
 Then one of God's chosen people, 
 Black-bearded, and eyes gleaming fire. 
 Seemed a grand type of Abraham, 
 With Egyptian features blended, 
 And a spice of Esau's boldness. 
 Made a splendid combination. 
 
 With his finger high uplifted 
 
 And a frown like midnight darkness. 
 
 Or that which shrouded Pompeii, 
 
 As full surcharged with frightful storm. 
 
 He hurled forth a hundred curses, 
 
 Cursed their kindred, land and language,. 
 
 Cursed their women and their children. 
 
 For as they'd ruined old Judea 
 
 So would the nations ruin Rome ; 
 
 Painted the dark avenging spirit 
 
 That would prevail in after times ; 
 
 How a hundred petty princes, 
 
 Tyrants deadly and outrageous 
 
 Would load the Romans, now exempt,, 
 
 Bow them down with vast taxation. 
 
 Savage hordes uproot their gardens. 
 
 Destroy their classic statuary. 
 
 Raze to the ground their palaces. 
 
74 POEMS AND SELECTIONS. . 
 
 Load their ships with gold and silver, 
 With works of art and precious gems. 
 
 Then defiling lovely women 
 
 And slaughtering their very babes, 
 
 Shall sail away to Africa. 
 
 All tlie gold the Eomans gathered 
 
 In a thousand years of plunder 
 
 Will oe wrecked in a single storm. 
 
 Then he raved in tones of thunder. 
 
 Lifting both his hands up wildly. 
 
 Thus I curse the Roman people ! 
 
 What a picture of deep vengeance, 
 
 A picture of unmeasured scorn. 
 
 Yet but one from out a nation, 
 
 From nations were most prominent, 
 
 Albans, or the old Etruscans, 
 
 The Aleman's or Tyrolese, 
 
 Men of Biscay or the Scythians, 
 
 Parthians or Numidians, 
 
 The Abyssinians or the Danes, 
 
 The Arabs or Palmyrians, 
 
 A thousand other petty States, 
 
 Most of them by Romans conquered. 
 
 Were not there or represented. 
 
 Who can recite the million pangs 
 
 And heart-burnings without number. 
 
 That wrung and writhed each human heart. 
 
 A mother from her children torn, 
 
 A husband from his faithful wife. 
 
 Children sold from one another, 
 
 Those Avho each other fondly loved, 
 
THE gladiators' SALUTATION. 75 
 
 And ere enslaved were oft defiled. 
 
 Some in Asiatic bondage, 
 
 Some in proud Rome or Africa, 
 
 While many Jews or Syrians brave, 
 
 Many Egyptians, learned Greeks, 
 
 Were blent with dark Numidians, 
 
 To crush down Britons, Picts or Scots ; 
 
 Just one year of Roman slavery, 
 
 With scenes debauched and brutal lust. 
 
 The lash, and worse, rude derision. 
 
 Soon broke a heart was sensitive. 
 
 'Now came the haughty slaves 
 
 Ere they commenced their conflict dread, 
 
 Joining in one mighty chorus, 
 
 Each one in his native language. 
 
 Saluting with wild words of scorn. 
 
 They defied the Roman Csesars. 
 
CATALOGUE OF POEMS, 
 
 (PUBLISHED AND UNPUBLISHED.) 
 
 By JOHN GOODMAN. 
 
 No. Lines. 
 
 Antediluvia ,. .. 800 
 
 Castles of the Rhine 1,600 
 
 The Fairy Queen 900 
 
 The Hunchback 1,900 
 
 The Crusader 1,700 
 
 An Appeal to France 360 
 
 The Martyrdom of Genius 360 
 
 The Journey to the Moon 400 
 
 Arjuna's Journey to Heaven 360 
 
 Alabama ; or, Here We Rest 320 
 
 The History of the Late War, in blank verse, 2 voliunes 
 
 Boadicea, Queen of Briton 697 
 
 Darwin ; or, Funny Jake 240 
 
 Temperance 160 
 
 Loyola, the Jesuit 2,816 
 
 An Ode to Longfellow , 96 
 
 An Ode to A. Tennyson 96 
 
 Reply to G. F. Train 98 
 
 Dewdrop on the Tomato 24 
 
 The Seduced Daughter 36 
 
 To Sarah 16 
 
78 POEMS AND SELECTIOXS. 
 
 No. Lines. 
 
 To Maria 1& 
 
 To Jane 16 
 
 Spencer, the Magnetizer 48 
 
 On Flowers 36 
 
 Love 16 
 
 Give Me One Crust of Bread, Mother 16 
 
 The Woodsawyers 24 
 
 On Asylums 30 
 
 The Dance 24 
 
 The Spirit's Ascension to Heaven 30 
 
 Rock Me to Sleep, Mother 16 
 
 Answer to My Mary 83 
 
 The Capitol at Washington 53 
 
 The Woman I Should be Proud to Love 40 
 
 What Makes Me Love England 32 
 
 To Kossuth 33 
 
 To Garibaldi 13 
 
 Belisarius 32 
 
 Daughter of Belisarius 32 
 
 The Budding Plants 23 
 
 Schiller and Charlotte 33 
 
 Tyrants 60 
 
 Mary Van Arnim and Schiller 32 
 
 American Slavery 33 
 
 Tom Moore's Burial 38 
 
 Jesus Preaching About the Lily. . . . * 23 
 
 Refugees from the South 16 
 
 I Would Love to Live with Thee 16 
 
 Character of Christ .... 33 
 
 Galatzin, the Prince 40 
 
 In Memory of Grace Perkins 16 
 
 Look You in the Sky To-night 33 
 
 You Do Not Love as I Love 16 
 
 The Carob Tree 60 
 
 History of Boston 112 
 
 The Black Crook at Niblo's 80 
 
 Beautiful Snow 17 
 
 Actason and Dione 353 
 
 The Cyclopian Encyclopedia 96 
 
UNPUBLISHED POEMS. 79> 
 
 No. Lines. 
 
 The Eastern Prince '. 98 
 
 The Florentine Rose Girl 17 
 
 Ice Clad Woods 37 
 
 The Unforgiven 156 
 
 Julius Caesar 688 
 
 Baby on a Car 28. 
 
 Fallen Angels (Henry "Ward Beecher) 83 
 
 Value of Atoms 20 
 
 The True Love 74 
 
 My Native Land 28 
 
 The Scottish Laddie 32 
 
 Catherina 24 
 
 The Setting Sun .' 12. 
 
 St. George of Merry England 
 
 There is no Prostitution Here for Gold 
 
 Contrasts in Nature 
 
 An Appeal to a Wife 
 
 The Pestering Insect 
 
 There are no Fields so Green 
 
 Napoleon's Soliloquy 
 
 What is there in a Kiss 
 
 Do Not Abandon Poland. 
 
 My Daughter Dear 
 
 Sleeping Humanity 
 
 Moonshine Pantaloons 
 
 The Green 
 
 Bulls and Bears 
 
 Aladdin ; or, The Wonderful Lamp 
 
 Carlona 
 
 The Gladiators' Salutation to Caesar 
 
 Mr. Caudle and the Velocipede 
 
 The Frozen Woods 
 
 Ingratitude 
 
 Liberty and Slavery 
 
 American Slavery 
 
 The Leg of a Duck for me 
 
 When Sleeping on my Downy Bed 
 
 The Origin of the Horchish 
 
 Hatton Asylum Garden (Old England) 
 
■80 POEMS AXl) SELECTIONS. 
 
 No. Lines. 
 
 Harold, Last of the Saxon Kings 
 
 Ossian Transposed 
 
 Hurl the Invaders Back Over the Rhine 
 
 John Morgan's Raid 
 
 The Black Banner 
 
 The Wild Indian 
 
 Sherman's March to Savannah 
 
 We Crossed our Swords at Donaldson 
 
 A Baby Spirit Laid to Rest 
 
 Thanks to God for Making our Wives Women instead of Angels 
 
 The Telegraph 
 
 The Cornucopia of Goat 
 
 They Won't Do So When They are Old 
 
 To Ella 
 
 Twin Brother 
 
 God's Curse on Tyi-ants 
 
 I Dreamed Last Night 
 
 The Beautiful Sun 
 

 
 fc. 1'.^- f ^ ■» • (j 
 
 
■•■ '< ■ ^ . 
 
 » ^ »» 
 
 
 .A>- i J^ 
 
 y %'il 
 
 '^'V- 'i'^ 
 
 =■- *H. v% 
 
 >*-' t^ 
 
 '-. ^ • .fr<f% 
 
 ri^ «»?^ 9 :X 
 
 ■ym^' 
 
 2i?fit: 
 
 'J/* ^ • 
 
 X-.?^ ^.^i^ 
 
 ■^^ 
 
 ':>V 
 
 te^ 
 
 ' '/4r^-. /■. ■••.;