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MISCELLANEOUS 
 
 POEMS 
 
 MORAL, KELIGIOUS, AND SENTIMENTAL. 
 
 BY JOHN HARVEY. 
 
 •v. 
 
 X CINCINNATI: 
 PUBLISHED BY JAMES HARVEY. 
 
 1848. 
 
TS 1st 
 
 ■ .H4- 
 
 Entered according to act of Congress, by John Harvey, in 
 the year 1848, in the Clerk's Office for the District Court of 
 Ohio. 
 
 CINCINNATI: 
 
 MORGAN & OVEREND, PRIIN'TERS. 
 
TO THE READER. 
 
 As some of my works are about to be published, I 
 tbougbt, witlioiit designing to write a preface, that it 
 might be best to say a few words, by way of apology, 
 for the similarity of matter apparent in many of the 
 pieces. Some of them were written under the pres- 
 sure of affliction, in my own family, and some at the 
 request of different individuals, on the death of rela- 
 tives dear to them; the subjects being similar, of 
 course no great diversity of matter could be expected 
 in them, and yet it has been thought best to publish 
 most of the pieces of this description, for the satisfac- 
 tion of those by whose request they were written, since 
 many of them have become subscribers for the work. 
 
 In making a selection of my works for the press, I 
 have been governed, to some extent, by the previous 
 demand for manuscript copies of different poems, and 
 an observation of individual preferences ; but chiefly 
 by a desire to present as great a variety of matter, in 
 as many different forms of composition as practicable, 
 taking my works as they are. 
 
 It was not my expectation, until within a very short 
 period, that my works, or at least that many of them, 
 would ever be published. I do not claim the title of 
 
IV 
 
 " poet," and if it had Ibeen in my power, it never has 
 been my wish, to please the taste for light and novel 
 reading that prevails to such a great extent at the pre- 
 sent day. Without a feeling of animosity toward any 
 individual, I am not ashamed to confess myself a be- 
 liever in the doctrines of the christian faith, as recor- 
 ded in the new testament, and held, with some small 
 differences, by all the professors of religion whose 
 hope of salvation is in the mercy of God, through a 
 Redeemer. 
 
 And if none of my readers should be pleased with 
 the whole of the work, I hope each one may at least 
 find something in it with which he is satisfied, I ex- 
 pect to derive no pecuniary advantage frQjo; it, but if 
 it could in any degree aid the cause of morality and 
 virtue, among the youth of the present age, I should 
 consider my labors, humble as they have been, not al- 
 together in vain. 
 
 JOHN HARVEY. 
 
 Near Harveysburg. Ohio, 8th month, 1848. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 A sketch of the author's life, &c., - - - 1 
 
 Manasseh, king of Judah, - - - - 6 
 
 Balak and Balaam, - - - - - 13 
 
 The author's lamentation for the death of his wife, - 30 
 
 Story of John Dermot, - - - - 40 
 
 A scriptural enigma, - - - - 45 
 
 The return of spring, - - - - - 46 
 Reflections, while passing along the road from Waynes- 
 
 ville to Harveysburg, - - - - 48 
 Pain and sorrow incident to human life, but evil the re- 
 sult of our own folly, - - - - 52 
 
 Fall, - 54 
 
 Reflections, while looking at a grove of forest trees, 56 
 The widow of Peter Cleaver lamenting the death of her 
 
 husband, - - - - - - 57 
 
 Acrostic, for M. P., - - - ' - - 62 
 Lines supposed to express the feelings of Rebecca Pool, 
 when about to leave the late residence of her de- 
 ceased husband, - - - - - 66 
 
 To the memory of Jesse Ballard, - - - 68 
 
 J. M., or the danger of extremes in religious belief, - 72 
 
VI 
 
 Letter to J. Ballard, of Indiana, 
 
 The comet of 1843, - - - - . - 
 
 To J. and R. Hadley, on the death of their son, 
 An ode, commemorating emancipation in the West In- 
 dia Islands, _ - - - . 
 Story of Elias Harvey, - _ _ _ 
 To Daniel Webster, - - - - . 
 Remarks on the subject of slavery, &c.. 
 Spring and her flowers, _ . . . 
 Letter to Calvin Wasson, - . . _ 
 On the death of Abi Harvey, - - - . 
 To Zilpha Hill and her children, - _ - 
 To an ancient oak, - - - 
 To Jehu Pyle, Sen., 
 
 Defense of Poetry, - - - - - 
 
 Reflections on seeing the solitary grave of a child, 
 To Jemima Ballard, on the death of her husband, 
 To the memory of Elias Fisher, _ _ . 
 
 The falls of Rattlesnake, &c., _ _ _ 
 
 Acknowledgment and prayer of an Ohio farmer, 
 To New Hampshire, &c.. 
 On hearing the roaring of the cannons, &c-. 
 Complaint to Dr. Bailey, - - - 
 
 The Irishman's resolve, - . . - 
 
 A view of the sublime in nature, &c., 
 Frederick Douglass, in Europe, . _ . 
 
 The wonders of the present age. 
 
vu 
 
 To Dr. F. Williamson, on his analysis of the mental and 
 
 moral -character of the author, - - - 188 
 
 On seeing a distant thundercloud, - - - 197 
 
 Sketch of a visit to the west, and incidental reflections, 199 
 
 Leather and shoes, ----- 205 
 
 Recollections of other days, - ■ - - - 208 
 
 A hint for the Millerites, - - - - 214 
 
 To the memory of Thomas Austin, - - - 215 
 
 On reading some extracts from the New York Tribune, 216 
 
 Description of a meteor, - _ . _ 218 
 
 My opinion of an album, - - - - 219 
 
 Lines, for R. G., - - - - - 220 
 
 The garden, - - - - - - 221 
 
 Advice to young persons, _ _ _ - 222 
 
 To E. Hadley, - - - - - 223 
 
 Resignation — for L. Hadley, - - - - 223 
 
 Lines for R. Hadley, - - - - - 224 
 
 For Rebecca Ann Miller, on the death of her mother 
 
 and husband, - - - - - 225 
 
 To the memory of Eleanor Ann Austin, - - 227 
 
 A memento, - - - - - - 227 
 
 For Mary Ann, - - . - - 228 
 
 To the memory of James Harris, Esq., - - 229 
 
 The close of the year, - - - - 230 
 
 Things that I fault among abolitionists, - - 231 
 
 To E. and D. Hobbs, of Indiana, - - - 234 
 
 A recapitulation of past misfortunes and present favors, 243 
 
POEMS.' 
 
 A SKETCH OF THE AUTHOR'S LIFE, 
 
 AND AN APOLOGY FOE THE STYLE AND CHAEACTER OF 
 HIS WORKS. 
 
 I CAME into being, as the record stows, 
 
 When the eighteenth century was just at its close ; 
 
 From North Carolina, the land of my birth, 
 
 I came, with my parents, to this part of the earth, 
 
 ( Ohio, renown'd as a free and rich state ) 
 
 In the spring of one thousand eight hundred and eight. 
 
 This country was chiefly a wilderness then. 
 
 And in many places the abode of red men, 
 
 From the graves of their fathers now driven far west, 
 
 By men of pale faces, who loved themselves best. 
 
 On the banks of Todd's Fork, about twenty-three years, 
 
 My days pass'd in pleasure unmingled with tears ; 
 
 A loving companion, ten years of the time. 
 
 Was still the chief blessing of my early prime, 
 
 My dearest relations were all yet alive, 
 
 And most of them able to work and to thrive ; 
 1 
 
2 
 
 When lialf a dozen miles to the westward I went, 
 
 And settled where the rest of my life has been spent, 
 
 Where sorrow and care have attended my lot, 
 
 While scenes of past pleasure conld not he forgot. 
 
 My faithful companion was the first one that died; 
 
 Of all to whom I was most tenderly tied; 
 
 But all of my losses and causes of care 
 
 Have, in my poor scribbling, been stated elsewhere. 
 
 And, oh ! may I never repine at the rod — 
 
 I still have been follow'd by the mercies of God! 
 
 And while, by his blessing, upon a rich soil, 
 
 I still have been reaping the fruits of my toil, 
 
 A second companion has help'd me along. 
 
 And lighten' d the burden of many a song. 
 
 I now must return to the scenes of Todd's Fork, 
 Or my little narrative will be a lame work : 
 My learning was such as the schools first bestow'd 
 In smoky log cabins, by the side of some road, 
 Or hid in the forest, from the traveler's sight, 
 With greased paper windows to let in the light ; 
 When thro' the thick bushes and grape-viny bowers 
 As lightly we sported as bees among flowers. 
 And twenty- sis winters have over me pass'd 
 Since I, as a student, was in a school last. 
 Though in my first studies some dullness I show'd, 
 Ambition soon lent me the aid of her goad; 
 I learn'd to parse grammar, and how to survey. 
 And was thought quite a scholar for that early day. 
 
The people told my father that I "would be spoil' d, 
 " That so much high larnin' would ruin a child." 
 He told them, I " work'd well as ever on the farm, 
 And hoped that my learning would do me no harm." 
 I next became " teacher," and for two winter terms 
 Of science to pupils gave some of the germs. 
 But to such a business I could not be bound, 
 And loved nothing better than clearing good ground, 
 And making the same with new fences to shine, 
 And wish'd for a dwelling that I could call mine. 
 
 I married in the year I became twenty-one, 
 And in a dense forest my farm was begun. 
 And though at hard work I have often been strain' d, 
 I still in the country on a farm have remain' d. 
 With eight children living (eleven in all). 
 My task, to support them has never been small. 
 The most of the clearing ever done on my lands. 
 And building of fences was by my own hands. 
 Sometimes in the winter I work'd in a shop, 
 And still thro' the summer I toil'd in the crop — 
 Oft writing of evenings, or on a foul day, 
 To pass hours of sorrow and trouble away; 
 Or with the requests of such friends to comply 
 As look'd on my works with a favorable eye, 
 But not with a hope of attaining that fame 
 Which has to some given an immortal name. 
 Such scenery has never excited my dreams 
 As furnisli'd the bards of old Scotland with themes, 
 
Or sucli as, in England, the poets inspiredj 
 Whose genius and writings will long be admired. 
 I pass'd over mountains to come to this land, 
 But no inspiration did then understand ; 
 The hills and the valleys, I left far behind. 
 Imprinted no image on my thoughtless young mind. 
 No mountains or caverns are near to my home, 
 Nor cataracts dashing their waters in foam ; 
 No dark and deep ocean is rolling so near, 
 That the sound of its roaring I ever could hear, — 
 Though some inspiration from the heavens was drawn. 
 And some from the beauties display'd on the lawn, 
 My genius for musing has chiefly been fed 
 From scenes of affliction and themes of the dead. 
 No dramatic fiction my poems contain, 
 Where flights of vain fancy bewilder the brain, 
 But sober relations of passing events, 
 As good as I could make them with my stock of sense.. 
 Which is not abundant, I freely confess. 
 Compared with the portion some others possess ; 
 And since several neighbors have given a hint 
 That they wish'd to see them yet publish' d in prints 
 I will make a brief statement of views which I take, 
 And wait the decision the public shall make. 
 
 The great moral questions which now agitate 
 The world to its center, in church and in state, 
 Have claim' d some attention from my humble pen^ 
 With deference to the feelings of all honest men^ 
 
Who, thongli tliey may differ, all go for just laws, 
 
 And wish the advauceraeiit of every good cause. 
 
 Unfearful of censure, of harm, or disgrace, 
 
 I go for the freedom of the African race, 
 
 Against all oppression, for justice and right, 
 
 Since all men are equal in G-od's holy sight. 
 
 A friend of religion, and all of its claims, 
 
 Yet not a sectarian, or partial to names. 
 
 In what I have written on things of this kind. 
 
 My feelings have been to no party confined; 
 
 My doctrines are such as all christians may claim, 
 
 With Christ for their author, for ever the same. 
 
 Excluding the whims, and the new-fangled rules. 
 
 Of Miller and Smith, and their proselyte fools; 
 
 I^or yet of that notion containing the leaven — 
 
 ^' That man is by nature a subject of heaven, 
 
 That good moral training is all he requires 
 
 To bring the perfection to which he aspires ;" 
 
 With human exertions supplying the place 
 
 Of Christ, the atonement, and Heavenly grace : 
 
 Nor yet that the Scriptures should be thrown away 
 
 For speaking of "servants" and "wars" in that day. 
 
 Such notions are evil, and only obtain 
 
 A place of existence in a sceptical brain. 
 
 To pious professors, of all christian sects. 
 
 And all sober people, I give my respects, 
 
 And dedicate the labors of my humble muse, 
 
 And wish for all sceptics a change of their views, 
 
6 
 
 And for every sinner tliat dwells on the sod, 
 Repentance and peace, through the mercy of God. 
 
 Near Harveysburg, Warren county, Ohio, ) 
 Second mo., 1845. y 
 
 MANASSEH, KING OF JUDAH, 
 
 AN EMINENT INSTANCE OF THE MERCY Or GOD TO 
 PENITENT SINNEE. 
 
 Of all tlie instances of heav'nly grace. 
 Which were to sinners shown in ancient days. 
 None can our admiration more excite 
 Than one on which I now presume to write — - 
 may celestial grace inspire my heart 
 And life and spirit to my song impart ! 
 
 When Hezekiah, Judah's king, was dead. 
 His son, Manasseh, reigned in his stead, — 
 Twelve years of age, when he began to reign^ 
 His reign proved wicked, as his heart was vain. 
 His righteous father, by a strict command, 
 Had banish' d heathen idols from the land, 
 And to their pristine order had restored 
 The Jewish rites, and worship of the Lord, —> 
 Which left Manasseh nothing more to do 
 Than Hezekiah' s virtues to pursue, 
 
To love Ms subjects, and their hearts to gain, 
 
 And make them happy by a peaceful reign. 
 
 But giving to his passions boundless sway, 
 
 He grew more wicked each succeeding day; 
 
 It seem'd as though he set his heart to find 
 
 What things would most displease th' Almighty Mind, 
 
 And what transgression of his righteous law 
 
 The greatest curse would on his people draw. 
 
 The abominations which the heathen wrought 
 
 Were by Manasseh into practice brought ; 
 
 He dedicated gods of gold and brass, 
 
 And caused his children through the fire to pass, — 
 
 A thing which th' Amorites of old practiced, 
 
 When victims were to Moloch sacrificed. 
 
 The fire where wicked men, among the Jews, 
 
 Upon their children did this custom use, 
 
 Was near Jerusalem, where, 't is presumed, 
 
 The rubbish of the city was consumed, 
 
 Where filth was burnt, and num'rous victims fell, 
 
 And thence was taken for a t^^-pe of Hell. 
 
 A graven image -in Grod's house he placed. 
 
 And to the heathen idols altars raised; 
 
 He used enchantments, and pretended arts 
 
 Wherein a wizzard could display his parts; 
 
 To wickedness the people he enticed, 
 
 And they to his dumb idol sacrificed ; 
 
 No law but his own will was understood, 
 
 And his delight was cruelty and blood. 
 
8 
 
 From him tlie innocent no safety knew, 
 
 The best of men, more than the worst, he slew; 
 
 Jerusalem from end to end was fiU'd 
 
 With blood, which by his orders had been spill'd; 
 
 A city, where prosperity had smiled 
 
 With crime polluted and with blood defiled, — 
 
 And e'en the sacred house of G-od profaned 
 
 More than by any former king that reign'd, 
 
 Provoked the wrath of Grod, and vengeance drew 
 
 Upon Manasseh, and his people too. 
 
 Though seers and prophets from the Lord were sent, 
 
 Who by their counsels warn'd him to repent, 
 
 And prophesied that Grod would ruin bring 
 
 Upon the people, and their wicked king; 
 
 That Judah's enemies should be employ' d, 
 
 And by their power Jerusalem destroy' d, — 
 
 As wicked Ahab's house before had been, 
 
 So should the Jews be punish'd for their sin: 
 
 That through the nations where the news would go 
 
 Their ears should tingle with the notes of woe. 
 
 Yet for all this he only sinn'd the more 
 
 And grew more wicked than he was before, 
 
 'Till Grod's displeasure did upon him bring 
 
 The war-like captains of Assyrian king, 
 
 By whom Manasseh was a pris'ner made. 
 
 And off to Babylon in chains convey'd ; 
 
 Where all that had before his hands employ' d, 
 
 The sinful pleasures which his heart enjoy'd, 
 
9 
 
 And all wliereon his foolisli fancy ranged, 
 For bondage and affliction were exchanged; 
 Until the judgments of Almighty Grod, 
 And the chastisements of his righteous rod, 
 Had humbled him, and brought him to believe 
 'T was just he should such punishment receive. 
 With humble heart he then the Grod besought, 
 Against whose will he had such evil wrought ; 
 In deep affliction, though not in despair, 
 He thus to Heav'n preferr'd a solemn prayer: 
 To keep true pathos with his words along. 
 Will far transcend my feeble skill in song. 
 The genins of a Milton 't would require 
 To sing his prayer with life and mental fire ; 
 may the Muses lend the aid I ask. 
 While I attempt a hard and doubtful task. 
 
 PRAYER. 
 
 "Almighty God, by whom the heav'ns were made, 
 The skies adorn'd, and earth's foundations laid, 
 Who to the raging seas their bounds decreed, — 
 The God of Abram and his righteous seed, 
 Whom they adored and honor'd in their day. 
 And through all time the powers of heav'n obey ; 
 Whom all men fear, and feel abased before 
 The power which angels round thy throne adore; 
 The glory and the majesty divine. 
 Which in the highest heavenly places shine. 
 
10 
 
 And througli the universe unbounded flow, 
 Cannot be borne by beings here below; 
 And when thy wrath is to a sinner known, 
 The proudest monarch trembles on his throne. 
 And yet the gracious promise thou hast made^ 
 Wherein thy goodness is to men display'd, 
 Is without measure, and doth far extend 
 Beyond all human powers to comprehend. 
 For thou, Lord, art of compassion high — 
 Of long forbearance and a pitying eye. 
 And still it grieves thy holy spirit when 
 Thou seest evil in the sons of men. 
 And thou, in thy great goodness, dost propose 
 Repentance and forgiveness unto those 
 Who have against thee sinn'd, and disobey'd 
 The law and covenant which thou hast made, 
 And hast appointed in thy boundless grace. 
 That sinners to repent may find a place, 
 And through repentance, and thy pardon craved, 
 Be from their sins with thy salvation saved: 
 Therefore, Lord, the G-od of all the just, 
 In whom our fathers still reposed their trust, 
 As Abraham and Isaac had no need, 
 Thou no repentance hast to such decreed, 
 But, in thy saving grace and mercy free. 
 Thou hast appointed such a thing to me, 
 Who am a sinner, and in evil ways 
 Have spent my time, and brought unhappy days. 
 
11 
 
 For sins, Lord, are multiplied by me 
 
 In number, like the sands along the sea, 
 
 And I am now unworthy to behold 
 
 The hight of heaven, where stars their light unfold. 
 
 My sins which are so many and so great, 
 
 Press on my spirit with a pond'rous weight; 
 
 Bow'd down with iron bands, without release, 
 
 My servile body can enjoy no ease, — 
 
 For I thine anger have provoked, Lord, 
 
 Thy will transgress'd, and have not kept thy word 
 
 Abominations were set up by me, 
 
 Which drew the people from the fear of thee ; 
 
 But now, to thee, Lord, I bow my heart. 
 
 Intending from these evils to depart, 
 
 And on my bended knees thy grace implore — 
 
 My sins are great, but I will sin no more. 
 
 Forgive me, then, Lord, and not destroy 
 
 Me with the works which did my hands employ, 
 
 Nor in thy wrath condemn my soul to go 
 
 To the dark regions of the world below; 
 
 For thou art Grod, and in thy mercy free. 
 
 The friend of sinners who return to thee; 
 
 And thou in me wilt all thy goodness show. 
 
 For thou wilt save me from eternal woe. 
 
 Who am unworthy, and in no degree 
 
 Deserve the mercy thou hast shown to me. 
 
 Therefore, through life, and all succeeding days. 
 
 For all thy mercies, I will sing thy praise; 
 
12 
 
 For all the powers of heaven thy name adore, 
 Which is thy clue, now," and for ever more. 
 
 Amen ! " 
 
 So pray'd Manasseh, and the Grod on high, 
 Who looks on sinners with a pitying eye. 
 Was pleased, in mercy, to accept his prayer, 
 And make him yet an object of his care, 
 And, through the boundless goodness of the Lord, 
 He to his kingdom was again restored, 
 And to Jerusalem, his native place. 
 The residence of all the royal race. 
 To live a better life he now began. 
 And for the future seem'd another man. 
 The image and the altars which he made 
 Where to the heathen idols rites were paid, 
 In which his time had been so much employ'd. 
 Were by his hands and orders all destroy'd; 
 To show for true religion his regard, 
 The altar of the Lord was then repair'd ; 
 With true devotion, on the altar laid 
 Peace and thank off 'rings by the king were made; 
 And to the Jews a strict command he gave 
 To serve the Grod which could a sinner save — 
 The G-od which to their fathers had been known, 
 And to himself had such great mercy shown. 
 
 How old he was when first a pris'ner made, 
 Or in captivity how long he stay'd, 
 
J 
 
 13 
 
 We have not been inform'd upon tlie page 
 Whicli gives us an account of this king's age 
 The space while he in Babylon remain'd 
 Cannot be reckon'd in the time he reign'd 
 His life at home, as from the account appears. 
 Amounts, in all, to sixty-seven years : 
 Twelve years of age when he began to reign, 
 For fifty-five he did the throne retain, 
 And died, through special favor from above, 
 A monument of Grod's redeeming love ; 
 What great encouragement it then doth give 
 For sinners to return, repent, and live. 
 First mo., 1834. 
 
 BALAK AND Bx^LAAM. 
 
 From Numbers, chapters xxii, xxiii, xxiv, and xxxi; 
 Jude, verse 11 ; and Rev., chapter ii, verse 14. 
 
 Arise, my Muse ! and sing in simple lays 
 Upon a sacred theme of ancient days, 
 When Israel, guided by Jehovah's hand, 
 Came near the borders of the promised land ; 
 
 * In the fifty-five years which it is said he reigned in Jeru- 
 salem ; Chron., chap, xxxiil, verse 1. 
 
14 
 
 And Balak, king of Moab, in his fear, 
 From the east country, call'd "the son of Beor" — 
 Balaam, by name, a sacred seer confess'd — 
 To curse a people whom the Lord had bless'd. 
 And may that light, divine inspire my pen, 
 Which, " in old time," illumed the " holy men," 
 That naught of mine, in this degen'rate age. 
 May mar the beauty of the sacred page. 
 
 At foot of Pisgah, Israel's forces lay, 
 From whence king Balak could their tents survey, 
 Along the shore of Jordan, spreading far, 
 Himself unequal to their strength in war ; 
 He, just before, had heard of Og's defeat, 
 And that king Sihon was by Israel beat. 
 And fear'd for his own kingdom and his life, 
 Should he with Israel enter into strife. 
 And wish'd that such a curse might on them fall 
 As to destruction would devote them aU ; 
 And special messengers to Balaam sent, 
 Inform'd the prophet of the king's intent — 
 That he should come and curse a mighty host 
 Which then, near Jordan, spread upon the coast, 
 
 But Balaam gave them soon to understand 
 He could not go beyond the Lord's command; 
 And when he sought the will of God to know, 
 The sacred answer was — " Thou shalt not go, 
 For I have bless'd the people ; and thy curse 
 Is impotent my blessing to reverse." 
 
15 
 
 So Balaam to the men return'd the word 
 Which in a vision from the Lord he heard, 
 And bade them to inform their master why 
 He could not come, his wish to gratify. 
 
 The messengers, dismiss' d, return and bring 
 The prophet's answer to the troubled king. 
 Though disappointed in what he design' d, 
 He still maintain'd the purpose of his mind, 
 And though his object was destined to fail. 
 He hoped a second trial might prevail, 
 And men of higher honor than the first, 
 Or in the arts of flattery better versed, 
 Were sent, with a command, to urge the thing 
 Which had been once requested by the king; 
 And with authority, in Balak's name, 
 To promise Balaam honor, wealth, and fame, 
 If, at their master's pleasure, he would go 
 And curse the Israelites, near Jericho — - 
 That Balak, peradventure, might prevail 
 Against a host which caused his heart to fail. 
 
 But Balaam, who the will of Grod had learn'd, 
 This answer to the messengers return'd: 
 
 "If Balak pleased to fill my house with gold, 
 And all the silver which his coffers hold. 
 Beyond the word of Grod I cannot speak, 
 To please the king, or an advantage seek ; 
 But tarry here until another day 
 That I may hear what more the Lord will say." 
 
16 
 
 Though Balaam knew the word of Grod was plaiiij 
 That any mortal curse would be in vain, 
 It still appears he look'd to the reward 
 Which Balak promised, more than to the Lord ; 
 And Grod, perceiving Balaam's heart perverse 
 And that he wish'd the Israelites to curse, 
 Left him to prove the folly of the thing 
 To which he had been prompted by the king, 
 And said to him that night — " Arise, and go. 
 But only speak what I shall let thee know." 
 
 So Balaam rose before the morning sun 
 And with the men his journey had begun. 
 For him to go, permission had been given, 
 Yet his intent was an offense to heaven — 
 And a bright angel, from a higher sphere, 
 Was sent to check him in his wild career. 
 As Balaam travel' d, riding on an ass, 
 Among the fields he found a narrow pass, 
 A wall of stone upon each side was seen 
 Which he and Balak's men must pass between ; 
 And there, obedient to Jehovah's word, 
 The angel stood, with an uplifted sword, 
 To vindicate the pow'r that rules on high 
 And warn the prophet of his danger nigh. 
 Though Balaam, as a seer, profess'd to know 
 Of things in heaven, as well as things below, 
 Yet, in this instance, it must be confess'd, 
 The vision of his beast was much the best. 
 
17 
 
 The ass saw something, in that narrow place^ 
 Of more than mortal form and earthly grace, 
 And in a fright, regardless of her load, 
 Ran off, abruptly, from the heaten road. 
 When Balaam smote her with a heavy cane, 
 And turned her hack into the narrow lane. 
 But still the angel, seen by her alone, 
 Stood in the way, between the walls of stone : 
 She turn'd again, and with such violence rush'd 
 That Balaam's foot against the wall was crush'd, 
 And the poor beast, unconscious of a crime, 
 Was by her master struck the second time. 
 She then sank down, and would no further go, 
 And he, in wrath, gave her another blow. 
 And here the Lord was pleased to interfere, 
 That the dumb ass might teach the blinded seer ; 
 Her mouth was open'd, and with voice of man 
 She to her angry master thus began — 
 
 " What have I done, that thou hast smitten me 
 Until thy cruel blows have number'd three? " 
 
 He answer'd, " Thou hast disobey'd my word. 
 And I would kill thee if I had a sword." 
 
 " But am not I the ass which thou hast rode 
 Since I was thine ? stiU patient of my load, 
 Have I been wont thy will to disobey 
 Until this time ? " And Balaam answer'd ^' Nay." 
 And now the light upon his vision pour'd, i 
 
 Reveal' d the angel with his shining sword : 
 
 2 
 
18 
 
 And at tlae sigbt witli reverence profound, 
 He bowed himself and fell upon tlie ground. 
 The personage divine then silence broke, 
 And in reproving strains to Balaam spoke : — 
 
 " Wherefore didst thou, in anger, smite the ass, 
 "When she beheld me, and refused to pass ? 
 I went out to oppose thee, with my sword. 
 Because thy way was wrong before the Lord, 
 And had the ass not turn'd, and thus behaved, 
 I should have slain thee and her life have saved." 
 And Balaam answer'd " I have sinn'd this day, 
 Nor did I know that thou wast in the way ; 
 And if thou art displeased, I will return, 
 And Balak's offer of promotion spurn." 
 
 The angel said, " Go with the men, but see 
 Thou speak the word that I shall give to thee." 
 
 So Balaam with the messengers went on 
 To try what could in Balak's case be done. 
 The king had grown impatient of delay. 
 And when he heard the seer was on the way 
 He went in haste and met him on the road. 
 Where, along Moab's border, Arnon fiow'd. 
 
 Which, from the eastern mountains, pour'd its flood 
 Into the sea, where once Zeboim stood ; 
 The land of Moab, stretching toward the south, 
 Reach'd from the mountain to the river's mouth ; 
 And from the river, on its northern side, 
 Along the sea and Jordan's rolling tide, 
 
19 
 
 Up to the border of tlie Amorites, 
 
 And toward the east, included Pisgah's hights ; 
 
 But Sihon took from Moab all her land 
 
 Which lay on Arnon's north and western strand, 
 
 Which the victorious Israelites now held, 
 
 Since Og and Sihon by their arms were quell'd. 
 
 But to return, on Moab's north frontier, 
 " The son of Zippor " met " the son of Beor ; " 
 The king, no doubt, was pleased to see the man, 
 But, to upbraid him, on this wise began — 
 
 " Wherefore didst thou refuse to come to me 
 When I so earnestly entreated thee ; 
 Am I not able, in my kingly power, 
 Kewards and honors on the head to shower ? " 
 
 And Balaam answer' d, "I have come, but can 
 Do nothing for thee in the will of man ; 
 The word which from the mouth of Grod I hear 
 I must declare, nor consequences fear." 
 
 And Balak then brought Balaam on his way 
 To Kirjathhuzath, near where Israel lay, 
 And for his entertainment made a feast, 
 As was the custom of the kings of the east, 
 And sheep and oxen slain for sacrifice. 
 Yet made to. Heaven no grateful incense rise, — 
 His off 'rings and his hopes were all in vain, 
 For Heaven's decree must still the same remain, 
 Concerning those whom Balak wish'd to curse, 
 And doom to death, or from the land disperse. 
 
20 
 
 The night was spent in feasting and repose 
 Until Aurora o'er the monntains rose. 
 And in the morning Balak took the seer 
 Up into the high places of Baalpeor, 
 That Balaam might from thence a view obtain 
 Of all the host encamp' d upon the plain. 
 But, Jacob, in thy tents, thon needst not fear^ 
 The arm of thy protector still is near — 
 Though thou hast often felt the chast'ning rod ; 
 Thy strength, Israel, still is in thy Grod, 
 
 And now the preparation was begun. 
 For doing much, where nothing could be done ;— 
 The curse must be preceded by a train 
 Of works and ceremonies, all in vain. 
 When seven altars by the king were made, 
 A bullock and a ram on each were laid, 
 And all were left in Balak' s care to burn. 
 While Balaam went the will of God to learn. 
 The Lord met Balaam, and his tongue inspired 
 To teach the language which the truth required ; 
 And when to the burnt oiF'ring back he came, 
 The king stood by to watch the rising flame ; 
 And soon appear'd a disappointed man, 
 While Balaam's language thus, in substance, ran 
 
 " Balak, the king of Moab, brought me here 
 From Aram, from my home and country dear, 
 Saying, come, curse me Jacob, and defy 
 
21 
 
 The host of Israel, which have come too nigh. 
 
 How shall I curse whom God hath never cursed? 
 
 (His will and pleasure cannot be reversed) 
 
 Or how defy whom God hath not defied ? 
 
 For he is strong — the Lord is on his side. 
 
 From the tall cliffs I see him, and behold 
 
 Him from the hills, whose tops were form'd of old ; 
 
 And he in safety still shall dwell alone, 
 
 Nor be as one among the nations known. 
 
 The dust of Jacob, who can count or tell, 
 
 Or number the fourth part of Israel ? 
 
 0, let me die the death the righteous die, 
 
 And my last end, like his, be peace on high ! '^ 
 
 And Balak said " What hast thou done to me ? 
 To curse mine enemies I sent for thee, 
 But thou hast bless'd them; and they stiU may stanc 
 Upon my borders and possess the land." 
 
 And Balaam answer' d, "Must I not take heed 
 To speak the words which from the Lord proceed ? '^ 
 
 To stop at this the king was not content, 
 But wish'd to try a new experiment. 
 And passing to the field of Zophim, near, 
 He to the top of Pisgah took the seer. 
 With a vain hope that from a higher place, 
 To curse the people, Balaam might find grace, 
 Yet none could be vouchsafed to aid the thing 
 Whereby the prophet wish'd to please the king. 
 And Balak soon must to his home retire, 
 
22 
 
 Nor gain the lost possessions of Hs sire. 
 
 And Moses, Israel's favor'd leader, stand 
 
 On tlie same hill, to view the promised land. 
 
 New altars here were built, and victim's slain, 
 
 In numbers equal to the first, in vain. 
 
 And Balaam went as he had done before, 
 
 The counsel of Jehovah, to explore ; 
 
 And with instructions to the king return' d, 
 
 And thus he spake, while Balak's off 'ring burn'd: 
 
 "Rise up, oh Balak! harken to my speech, 
 And hear, thou son of Zippor, what I teach. 
 The Lord is not a man that he should lie ; 
 Nor like the sons of men beneath the sky, 
 That he should change the purpose of his will, 
 Or fail his own good pleasure to fulfill. 
 His purpose toward the people is the same 
 Which he declared when they from Egypt came. 
 And I to bless them have received command, 
 And 't is in vain his pleasure to withstand : 
 His eye, for good, hath still on Jacob been, 
 Nor yet perverseness hath in Israel seen. 
 The presence of the Lord with them abounds, 
 And the shout of a king among them sounds. 
 Grod out of Egypt hath his people brought, 
 And wond'rous things for their deliverance wrought. 
 His strength excels that of a unicorn, 
 And shall be known to nations yet unborn. 
 Enchantments against Jacob still must fail, 
 
23 
 
 And divmation never can prevail, 
 
 To change tlie destiny of Israel, 
 
 But his free people in this land shall dwell, 
 
 And while his enemies shall come to naught, 
 
 It shall be said of him, What hath God wrought?" 
 
 The king, displeased to \vitness the reverse 
 Of what he hoped from the intended curse, 
 Requested Balaam his discourse to close, 
 And neither bless nor try to curse his foes. 
 But Balaam answer'd in his usual way : 
 "The word that God shall speak I must obey." 
 The king then wish'd to try another place, 
 With a vain hope to change' an adverse case ; 
 And taking Balaam to the top of Peor, 
 The highest pead of a small mountain near. 
 Which lay from Jordan toward the rising sun, 
 But faced the west, and look'd toward Jeshimon; 
 He went to work, built seven altars more, 
 And offer'd rams and bullocks as before. 
 His victims now have number' d forty- two, 
 And show how vain is all that man can do, 
 Unless the blessing of the Lord attend. 
 And sanctify the off 'ring to the end. 
 
 Though Balaam had encouraged the vain thing 
 Which still had baffled the deluded king, 
 So far as building altars to advise, 
 And kiUing beasts to burn for sacrifice. 
 
24 
 
 He now resolved to give such efforts o'er, 
 And for enchantments went to seek no more. 
 And having seen it pleased the Lord to blesS; 
 He turn'd his vision toward the wilderness , 
 And seeing Israel at their tents at rest, 
 The spirit of the Lord his mind possess'd, 
 And him inspired yet further to foretell 
 The strength and happiness of Israel. 
 To give the substance of his words and views, 
 Shall be the highest effort of my muse. 
 
 " Balaam, the son of Beor, the man whose eye 
 Is open to the light that shines on high ; 
 Who heard the words of God, and learn' d his law. 
 And a bright vision of th' Almighty saw. 
 While in a trance; but with his eyes unseal' d 
 Hath spoken of the things to him reveal' d. . 
 And must yet further speak in Israel's praise. 
 Of present things, and things of future days. 
 How goodly are thy tents, oh Jacob ! seen 
 From the high mountains, o'er the valleys green ; 
 Thy tabernacles too, oh Israel ! 
 Wherein thy happy people safely dwell, 
 Spread forth as gardens by the river's side, 
 Or the lignaloes in their flow'ry pride. 
 Which have been planted by the Lord's own hand, 
 Or as the cedars by the waters stand. 
 And he shall water from his buckets pour, 
 And land and sea for him shall yield their store ; 
 
25 
 
 And his descendants stall by thousands fill 
 
 The fruitful earth which they possess and till ; 
 
 And higher than Agog his king shall be, 
 
 And his dominion reach from sea to sea ; 
 
 And he shall still increase in wealth and power, 
 
 And all the nations of the earth devour. 
 
 And blessed is the man that blesseth thee, 
 
 And he that curseth shall accursed be." 
 
 While thus the prophet brought these things to view 
 
 The jealous king into a passion flew ; 
 
 He smote his hands together, and express' d, 
 
 In words like these, the emotions of his breast : 
 
 "I caird thee here mine enemies to curse. 
 And these three times thou hast but made it worse." 
 
 The seer replied, " Thy messengers were told 
 That if the king should fill my house with gold, 
 For good or bad, I could not speak a word 
 Beyond the will and counsel of the Lord ; 
 And now, behold, I to my people go. 
 But will inform thee first of what I know. 
 And tell thee, from a revelation true. 
 Of what this people yet to thine shall do." 
 He then took up his parable and spake 
 The words that Heaven inspired for Israel's sake, 
 •' The man hath said, who saw with a clear eye. 
 Who knew the knowledge of the Lord most high, 
 And of th' Almighty saw a vision bright, 
 While in a trance, but still possessing sight ; 
 
26 
 
 And I shall see him, but not now, and I 
 Hereafter shall behold him, bnt not nigh ; 
 For out of Jacob there shall come a star, 
 Whose brilliant shining shall be seen afar, 
 And out of Israel shall a scepter spring, 
 The glorious scepter of a mighty king, 
 Which shall the people of Moab annoy, 
 And the posterity of Sheth destroy. 
 And into his possession Sier shall faU, 
 And Israel still do valiantly through all. 
 For out of Jacob he shall come whose sway 
 The nations of the earth must all obey; 
 And he that of the city may remain 
 Shall be destroy' d, and help shall be in vain." 
 
 And when he look'd on Amalek he saw 
 The future working of Jehovah's law, 
 Which overturns the strongest works of man ; 
 And thus of Amalek his language ran : 
 
 " First of the nations thou in war ha,st been, 
 And in prosperity much pleasure seen ; 
 But there shall be an end of all thy mirth, 
 And thou forever perish from the earth." 
 
 He then look'd on the Kennites, and foresaw 
 That they from Israel their chief strength should draw 
 The Kennites were relations of Jethro, 
 Who with the Israelites prefer' d to go, 
 And for whose safety Moses still had cared 
 While they with him his toils and fortunes shar'd ; 
 
27 
 
 And in allusion to tlie choice they made, 
 The seer took up his parable and said : 
 
 " Strong is thy dwelling, and thy place of rest. 
 For thou within a rock hast put thy nest, 
 And yet thou shalt be wasted 'till the day 
 When the Assyrians carry thee away 
 Captive, into a distant land ; and who 
 Can hope to live, when G od this thing shall do ? 
 But ships shall from the coast of Chittim sail, 
 And against Ashur's troops, in war, prevail, 
 And Eber, bring into affliction sore, 
 And he shall perish and be known no more." 
 
 The prophet then departed to his place, 
 And left the king in trouble and disgrace. 
 
 The scripture narrative is now gone through, 
 And to king Balak I will bid adieu. 
 But Balaam may some further notice claim : 
 His prophecies from inspiration came. 
 And must for ever on the record stand, 
 Which bears th' impress of the Almighty's hand. 
 The star and sceptre he alluded to, 
 Beyond the temporal blessings brought to view, 
 Prefigure clearly, on the scheme devised, 
 The coming, light, and power of Jesus Christ, 
 Appropriately mention' d in this place ; 
 Since, in the flesh, he came of Jacob's race, 
 Though not alone for Israel's good design' d, 
 But for a general blessing to mankind. 
 
28 
 m 
 
 Had Balaam profited by what lie learn'd, 
 A blessing miglit have been to him return' d ; 
 But though so highly favor'd in this case, 
 It seems his conduct, afterward, was base, 
 In that he counsel' d Balak how to lay 
 A snare which led the Israelites astray : 
 To practice things forbidden by their law, 
 And thus the wrath of heaven upon them draw. 
 He saw the king could not prevail by force, 
 And counsel'd him to try a friendly course. 
 The people mingled with the Moabites, 
 And learn'd to join them in the heathen rites, 
 Which on them drew the judgments of the Lord, 
 And Balaam's end was death by Israel's sword ; 
 But the particulars as far as shown. 
 By reference to the Scriptures may be known ; 
 Though the account is short, it serves to show 
 That evil deeds before destruction go, 
 And that the things which men from heaven may learn. 
 Cannot avail them when to sin they turn. 
 Though Providence may counteract each plan 
 Adopted in the selfish will of man, 
 The power which still the universe controls, 
 Will not force happiness upon our souls. 
 
 Though Balaam yielded to the Lord's command, 
 Ta bless the people where a curse was plann'd, 
 How soon his former selfishness return' d, 
 And of unrighteousness the wages earn'd. 
 
29 
 
 Of God's protection, Israel was secure, 
 While they from evil works continued pure 
 And might defiance bid to all the foes, 
 Which in the nations round against them rose ; 
 But when they from enjoin'd obedience failed, 
 The machinations of their foes prevail' d, 
 And in this case, the sacred records tell, 
 That four and twenty thousand people fell. 
 Not by the sword of their designing foes, 
 But by a plague, which in the camp arose. 
 But soon the Isralites with Midian fought, 
 And Balaam perish' d for the sin he wrought. 
 The Scriptures for our learning have been given, 
 Through holy men, of old, inspired from heaven ; 
 And saving truths contain, in spite of all 
 Which may from tongues and pens of sceptics fall ; 
 It then should be the care of young and old 
 To profit by the things which they unfold. 
 1845. 
 
30 
 
 A LAMENTATION 
 
 FOR THE LOSS OP MY BELOVED COMPANION, LYDIA HAR- 
 VEY, WHO DIED THE 13tH OF THE IItH MONTH, 
 1832, AGED 32 YEARS AND 4 DAYS. 
 
 A melancholy mnse invites ipy lays 
 "While pensive grief upon my spirit preys. 
 Alas I how fluctuating and how vain 
 Are all the hopes which mortals entertain ! 
 What sad misfortunes oft usurp the place 
 Of promised pleasures and of happier days ! 
 To have ill health or be with care oppress'd, 
 A person still may live in hope of rest ; 
 The loss of wealth, into distress may bring ; 
 Yet this may be a temporary thing : 
 A man, by future diligence and care, 
 May such a loss in a short time repair. 
 To lose a parent, brother, child, or friend, 
 Brings strong affliction while the tears descend: 
 But when a loving wife is seen no more, 
 The grief is treble and the wound more sore. 
 I and my spouse a married life begun 
 v^ The fall of eighteen hundred twenty- one ; 
 Our love was not the passion of a day 
 But of that kind which never wears away. 
 She had been with me in my toils and cares, 
 A faithful partner for eleven years. 
 
31 
 
 Six prattling cliildren claim'd her tender care, . 
 
 A task wMcli she did with much patience bear; 
 
 Through all the toils she for them underwent, 
 
 She mostly with her lot appear'd content, 
 
 And often show'd a strong solicitude 
 
 Both for their temporal and eternal good ; 
 
 Her mind to future prospects oft was turn'd 
 
 And seem'd for them as for herself concern' d. 
 
 An even temper mostly she possess'd, 
 
 And anger could not harbor in her breast ; 
 
 A lively pleasantry her manners graced, 
 
 And yet in conversation she was chaste. 
 
 Without deceit, nor fearing to displease, 
 
 Whatever she thought fit, she spake with ease. 
 
 In evil tattling she was never found. 
 
 But to good order and the truth was bound. 
 
 Firm in the faith which all true Christians hold, 
 
 Before new doctrines, she preferr'd the old; 
 
 When notions false throughout the land were spread^ 
 
 And friends, she valued, from the truth were led, 
 
 Her faith, for a short time, was sorely tried ; 
 
 But she remain'd on the Eedeemer's side. 
 
 She had esteem'd all her true friends before, 
 
 But since the schism, seem'd to love them more ; 
 
 At least, all such as had most firmly stood 
 
 For Christians doctrines and the church's good. 
 
 She had, a while, been in a weakly way, 
 But still some work perform'd on every day; 
 
a2 
 
 And of our meetings, miss'd but few beside 
 One on first day, the last, before she died ; 
 She had a sober look through all that day, 
 And seem'd to have not many words to say ; 
 At night, two chapters* in the Bible read, 
 And in a thoughtful frame retired to bed. 
 My mind, that night, more deeply was impress'd 
 Than e'er it felt. When I read to the rest 
 Her voice was solemn and her look composed, 
 And long the pause, when she the book had closed. 
 Our youngest child, though always full of noise, 
 Sat still, with me, nor once did raise his voice ; 
 He ne'er before had been so quiet kept 
 At such a time, unless he soundly slept ; 
 I look'd upon it then as something strange, 
 But had no thought of such an awful change. 
 I did not for some time to bed retire, 
 But sat up, lonely, musing by the fire, 
 While she, in bed, did such a stillness keep, 
 That I supposed she must be fast asleep, 
 But when I went I found her still awake, 
 Which caused me an inquiry soon to make ; 
 She said, she did not then "feel much unwell. 
 But how her case might end she could not tell, 
 That she had entertain'd some doubts of late 
 It might in something worse soon terminate." 
 
 * The 14th and 15th chapters of John. 
 
33 
 
 We tlien in conversation spent a wbile, 
 But gentle sleep did soon my cares beguile. 
 In common Lealtli next morning she appear'd, 
 And no complaint from her, that day, was heard, 
 She seem'd more cheerful than the day before, — 
 That night took ill and saw the light no more. 
 
 No mortal tongue can e'er describe the wound 
 That pierced my heart when I her dying found 
 I knew her pain had, for a; while, been great, 
 But as it seem'd, near midnight, to abate, 
 And she appear'd to fall into a doze, 
 I little thought her life so near its close. 
 Until a sudden fit absorb 'd her sense. 
 And when it ended she departed hence. 
 How inexpressible my weight of wo, 
 When to another world I saw her go, 
 It felt so great, I from my heart did crave 
 To sink with her into the silent grave ; 
 And that my soul (0 wretched thought!) might be 
 Annihilated to eternity. 
 Unless I could, with full assurance, know. 
 That she to Heav'nly peace and rest did go, 
 And be permitted, when I came to die, 
 To meet my dear among the saints on high. 
 I never can forget that awful night. 
 When her immortal spirit took its flight. 
 
 ! canst thou tell, my dear, what Heav'nly power, 
 Thy bed attended, in thy dying ho'ur. 
 
34 
 
 While I "unconscious of tliy end so near, 
 No language used that could thy spirit cheer. 
 Fatigued with nursing our dear youngest child^ 
 That had upon thy knees so often smiled, 
 But now was crying, on the bed to foe 
 Where he had nightly lain, and slept with, thee. 
 Late in the night, with care and sleep oppress 'd 
 I laid me down a while to take some rest; 
 From what I had observed a while before, 
 I thought the greatest danger then was o'er, 
 But soon was roused, to hear thy latest breath. 
 And see thee struggling with the pangs of death. 
 It would have been consoling to my mind 
 To know that thou wast to thy fate resign'd 
 Thou could'st have told me a short time before. 
 'T was now too late, for thou could'st speak no more. 
 
 If aU. the earth had been at my command, 
 Or heaps of gold as countless as the sand, 
 To give them all I should have then felt free, 
 For but five minutes to converse with thee : 
 The time for conversation now was past, 
 And thou, in a few moments, breathed thy last, 
 With fervent thoughts as ever warm'd my breast 
 I wish'd thee safely to eternal rest. 
 Thy death was such an unexpected thing. 
 It to my feelings brought the deepest sting, 
 And in my troubled mind produced a fear 
 That thou wast unaware of death so near. 
 
35 
 
 ■f 
 
 And that too short a time had heen allow'd 
 For thee to be prepared to meet thy God, 
 I with no evil conduct could thee charge. 
 And knew that thy account could not be large ; 
 But if not quite prepared before that hour, 
 It never more could be within thy power. 
 While thus the torments of uncertain thought, 
 With awful weight, upon my feelings wrought, 
 I thought if thou wast gone to endless wo, 
 I should be willing there myself to go, 
 Eternal misery with thee to share. 
 As thou with me the ills of life didst bear. 
 Eut all such doubtings have been since dispell'd, 
 And I have thee in innocence beheld 
 A tender mother and a faithful wife. 
 Peaceful in death, as innocent in life, 
 Thou on a dying bed didst nothing say 
 Which indicated terror or dismay, 
 And thou, of speech didst still retain the power 
 Till near the close of the last solemn hour. 
 Thou hast been cali'd to thy eternal home, 
 In peace away from evil yet to come. 
 But when I think on my dear partner dead, 
 All consolation seems forever fled : 
 It wounds my heart and aggravates my wo, 
 To think what pain thou hadst to undergo 
 In thy short journey to that narrow house, 
 Which now incloses my beloved spouse. 
 
And to my soul how bitter is tlie thought 
 Of former days into remembrance brought : 
 That love which soon reciprocal became, 
 Began with me before I knew thy name ; 
 I saw thee first upon a summer's morn, 
 When youthful freshness did thy face adorn — 
 Ere thou, of sickness, hadst that tedious spell 
 "Which caused thee after ne'er to look so well, 
 But this my love for thee did not impair, 
 I still the impression on my heart did bear, 
 Though twice the sun perform'd his annual round 
 Before we in hymeneal bands were bound. 
 A tall and shapely dame, not yet nineteen, 
 Of sober countenance and graceful mien. 
 Along the path, thou with slow step didst tread^ 
 And by the hand thy youngest sister led. 
 As thou wast coming to the meeting place,* 
 Where all the children went in happier days, 
 Before a seism did the church divide. 
 And draw thy sisters to another side, 
 ' T was then, as I stood near the " meeting house," 
 I saw thee first and mark'd thee for my spouse; 
 When I with thee, had an acquaintance made, 
 ""Affection for thee did my heart pervade ; 
 I at thy uncle's house f sometimes did call 
 
 * Lytle's Creek meeting. 
 
 t The house of Reuben Green, where she boarded during 
 the school. 
 
37 
 
 And we botli went to Carter's school that fall; 
 
 We in our studies there did still improve, 
 
 And for each other had a tender love. 
 
 I often noticed if I look'd at thee 
 
 Thine eye, that moment, glanced away from me, 
 
 While a sweet blush upon thy cheek did rise, 
 
 And beams of love shot from thy sparkling eyes, — ■ 
 
 Now, closed in death, the eyes that sparkled so. 
 
 And cold the cheeks which did with blushes glow ; 
 
 While memory brings these things before my view. 
 
 To teU what my heart feels no pen can do. 
 
 In painful retrospect I still can see 
 
 Thy look. and actions while thou livedst with me, 
 
 x\t work, or with a babe upon thy knee. 
 
 The true affection thou for me didst have. 
 
 Thy quick transition to the gloomy grave. 
 
 The scenes of youth, the smiles thy face then wore, 
 
 Crowd on my thoughts and make my trouble sore ; 
 
 And must I think, ! dearest to my heart ! 
 
 That we forever more have had to part. 
 
 I for no fortune cared in worldly pelf. 
 
 My love for thee was only for thyself. 
 
 I took thee as thou wast, a loving bride. 
 
 And hoped to live with thee until I died. 
 
 We lived together for the greater part. 
 
 In happy love, and both possess'd one heart ; 
 
 I ne'er abused nor call'd thee an ill name. 
 
 And yet find much wherewith myself to blame ; 
 4 
 
38 
 
 Amid my cares some ttings have taken place, 
 Which for the present did my temper raise ; 
 Thy feelings then were hurt by what I said, 
 And all comes home to me since thou art dead; 
 May God, in mercy, pardon me for this, 
 And for all things that I have done amiss. 
 
 We left Todd's Fork, last spring, without a tear, 
 And with no gloomy prospect, settled here. 
 With our new home we were well satisfied, 
 And had begun for winter to provide ; 
 We on our farm had some improvement made, 
 And plans for other works had just been laid, 
 When thou wast call'd away to worlds unknown, 
 And I left here disconsolate — alone — 
 With the sad thought that on this mundane shore, 
 I can my dear companion see no more. 
 My farm, now like a cheerless desert looks ; 
 I find no pleasure in my new-bought books ; * 
 The world but like a dreary waste appears. 
 While sad reflections drown my eyes in tears. 
 Our children all seem well and full of glee. 
 But that no pleasure can afi'ord to me. 
 My parents live with me, and yet my house 
 Looks lonesome in the absence of my spouse. 
 But I must quit that theme and cease to mourn, 
 
 * Clarkson's *' Portraiture of Quakerism," and the works 
 of Barclay, purchased a few days before her death. 
 
39 
 
 Thon never more wilt to this world return, 
 And but a few years only can divide 
 A weeping husband from his partner's side ; 
 "Where all my sorrows, every cause of pain. 
 And all belonging to a world so vain, 
 Shall be forgotten in the silent grave, 
 And to die well is all that I need crave ; 
 For while thy body molders in the dust. 
 Thy soul, immortal, lives in Heav'n, I trusts 
 Farewell, my dear ! among the truly blest 
 I hope to meet thee in eternal rest ; 
 But if I fall upon another shore, 
 Farewell ! a long farewell, forever more ! 
 Then grant, Lord, I freely may resign, 
 
 To thy pure wiU and own thy power divine. 
 Thou first didst give and then didst take away, 
 
 And 't is my duty to revere thy sway. 
 
 I trust she had become prepared to die. 
 
 To leave this world, and join the church on high; 
 
 If by this stroke thou didst some good design, 
 
 Let me no longer at thy will repine ; 
 
 But still I must so great a loss deplore. 
 
 My dear, my loving partner is no more. 
 
 Our tender children still require much care. 
 
 And none with me in such a task can share ; 
 
 Help me, Lord ! to rule them as I ought, 
 
 And let them never suffer by my fault ; 
 
 From evil ways and out of every snare. 
 
Preserye tliem by Thj providential eare. 
 
 My own lost time I never can recall, 
 
 And must endure whate'er shall me befall ; 
 
 Whatever wrong I in my life have done^ 
 
 Forgive me, gracious Father, through Thy Son E 
 
 And grant that I henceforward may fulfill 
 
 The requisitions of Thy holy wiU 
 
 That my poor soul may find a resting place, 
 
 When in this world I shall conclude my days, 
 
 With all the ransom'd and redeem'd to joinj. 
 
 And let the glory be forever thine» Amen 
 
 STORY OF JOHN DERMOT. 
 
 WHO EELL IN A DUEL AT PETERSBURGH IN VIRGINIA 
 (From the prose of Mason L. Weems.) 
 
 Assist me, my muse I while I relate 
 The tragic story of young Dermot's fate. 
 In Ireland this young nobleman was born. 
 Transcendent beauty did his frame adorn, 
 And in his soul such brilliant talents shone. 
 As made all human wisdom seem his own; 
 Though happier if confined to Ireland's strand^ 
 A simple herdsman in his native land, 
 Than far from home, beyond the ocean's roar,. 
 
41 
 
 To meet with death and to return no more. 
 Alas! how often those with talents rare, 
 Who in their morning splendor promise fair 
 For days of glorious shining to the world, 
 Are in an instant from their orbits hurl'd 
 By drmikenness, that rntLless human foe, 
 And quench'd in all the gloom of night below. 
 And thus it was with Dermot, sad to tell, 
 For he to wine an early victim fell. 
 When in life's prime to Petersburgh he came, 
 How idolized by every age and name, 
 The youths in num'rous crowds around him hung, 
 To catch the music of his fluent tongue. 
 His wisdom by the aged was admired, 
 And virgins for him were with love inspired; 
 But in the midst of all, by ways unthought, 
 He soon was to an awful exit brought. 
 It was at Petersburgh, ah ! fatal place, 
 This gay and noble youth must end his days, 
 Though he in innocence no doubt came there, 
 He basely was betray'd into a snare. 
 It was resolved to make a public treat, 
 Where sev'ral foreign gentlemen should meet. 
 Who then at Petersburgh on business were, 
 Or but as travelers happen'd to be there. 
 A splendid table with rich wines was graced, 
 And Dermot in the foremost seat was placed, 
 While many of the dissolute and gay 
 
42 
 
 Were Ms companions on that festal day. 
 
 The first course ended to appearance well, 
 No one got drunk, and none to wrangling fell, 
 And througli the next it might have been the same^ 
 But drunkenness, " that cruel spoiler," came. 
 Their wits at last with wine became eonfusedy 
 And politics must then be introduced. 
 As subject as unfit in such a scene, 
 As fire brands for a powder magazine. 
 And an explosion follow' d quite as dire 
 As could from powder at the touch of fire. 
 French, English, Irish, and Americans^ 
 Conversed upon the diff'rent nation's plans^ 
 'Till some one present thoughtless mention made 
 About the French aggressions on our trade.* 
 Here Dermot, who, although an Irishman, 
 Was yet in heart a true American, 
 The subject seized, and in a thund'ring tone 
 Declared the French "all villains — every one. 
 From Bonaparte down to the lowest grade," 
 And cast on all their crimes the darkest shade. 
 Unthinking wretch ! a Frenchman sitting by 
 Heard from his tongue these fierce invectives fly, 
 And none need be unable to suppose / 
 
 What keen resentment in his bosom rose. 
 His cheeks first redd'ning with an angry glow, 
 
 *The commerce of the United States. 
 
43 
 
 The strongest marks of indignation show, 
 And yet his passion instantly he curb'd, 
 And with the air of one quite undisturb'd, 
 To Dermot coolly thus himself address'd : 
 
 " I hope you do n't rank me among the rest ? " 
 
 "Who are you? I do n't know you," Dermot cried. 
 
 " Perhaps you may some time," he soon replied, 
 Then rising from the table out he went, 
 And straight a challenge was to Dermot sent, 
 Who (thinking he, a man of honor, must 
 His life to the delusive phantom trust) 
 Did to this dke proposal quickly yield, 
 And met him arm'd upon the fatal field ; 
 The pistols once, without effect, were fired. 
 But each, impell'd by rage — by wine inspired, 
 Intent his foe to kill or else be slain, 
 In haste resolved to try it o'er again : 
 So done, a ball to Dermot's heart was blown. 
 Who sinking down expired without a groan. 
 To hiiider the affray no person tried, 
 'T was an affair that bullets must decide; 
 To brook an insult would have brought disgrace 
 Upon a gentleman in such a case. 
 And men of honor to their creed must stand. 
 To suit the practice of this christian land. 
 
 Let each gay youth stop in his swift career, 
 And give a moment to reflection here. 
 
44 
 
 And may you learn to slinn tlie things that lead 
 
 To the commission of each evil deed. 
 
 Here you may read the melaneholy fate 
 
 Of one tKough wise yet impotently great ; 
 
 No person present at the festive scene 
 
 Was more admired than Dermot once had been, 
 
 Or more beloved by many of the gay 
 
 Who saw his fall upon that hapless day. 
 
 " 'T was his misfortune," but the case is worse. 
 
 The things which, caused his death are still our curse, 
 
 And from his grave a voice to us now calls, 
 
 In tones that shake his mansion's moldering walls: 
 
 " To you, oh ! people of America ! 
 
 'T is shameful that in this enlighten'd day 
 
 A base and savage custom still remains, 
 
 Which, tho' called honor, all true honor stains ; 
 
 How many gallant you.ths in duels have 
 
 Been hurried headlong to the silent grave : 
 
 Yet liquors have of late more thousands slain 
 
 Than all the duels since the time of Cain. 
 
 A curse awaits your fashionable feasts, 
 
 Where men are transform'd into savage beasts ; 
 
 And your false honor, in whose cause I fell. 
 
 Is but the scorn of heaven and boast of hell! 
 
 Had it not been for customs void of grace, 
 
 I might have lived a blessing to our race ; 
 
 For I was in the dawn of manhood's prime, 
 
 By them betray' d, and hurried out of time. 
 
45 
 
 And youths and maidens will for many a day 
 Shed tears of sorrow o'er my silent clay, 
 And the more wise, when pointing to my grave, 
 May say, ' There lies a youth more rash than brave. 
 Rulers, beware, such things by you allow'd. 
 Will rouse the vengeance of Almighty Grod ; 
 And, oh ! ye youths beware : let one and all 
 Take special warning from my early fall." 
 1820. 
 
 A SCHIPTUEAL ENIGMA. 
 
 One with whose name we in the Scriptures meet, 
 
 Who "drove" the people "from the judgment seat,'' 
 
 A Temanite who rent, in grief, his robe. 
 
 And" " sat down seven days to mourn" with Job ; 
 
 And one, who, as we in the Bible read. 
 
 Won Caleb's daughter by a valiant deed; 
 
 A prince who "the old men's advice refused," 
 
 And that of his vain, youthful comrades choosed, 
 
 A man who gave wise counsel to the Jews, 
 
 To let th' apostles teach their christian views; 
 
 And a young Buzite, calPd "BarachePs son," 
 
 Who made a speech when Job's three friends were 
 
 A priest who to the Jews did prophesy, [done. 
 
 Saying that "one should for the nation die; " 
 
46 
 
 And he, wlio was of Rome, as we liave heard, 
 The Emp'ror when our Saviour first appear'd, 
 One who at Jericho the spies did hide. 
 And was preserved when all were slain beside ; 
 And one whose name with others is enroU'd, 
 Call'd " King of Nations," in the days of old, 
 ^Vnd the first mention'd man with mortal breath, 
 Who went to Heaven without seeing death ; 
 And one who " to her mother in law did cleave, 
 Eesolved, a friend in trouble not to leave." 
 The individuals meant, above, may claim 
 Two lines of this enigma to each name, 
 And of the names arranged, th' initials make 
 A name I honor, for the person's sake, 
 And my young readers are required to tell 
 The names, off hand, and what th' initials spell 
 Third month, 1820. 
 
 THE RETURN OF SPRING. 
 
 The reign of cold winter is over, at last ; 
 
 The flow'rets are opening along the gay strand : 
 The storms and foul rage of boreas are past, 
 
 " And the voice of the turtle is heard in our land. 
 
 The gay, feather'd songsters, from far distant groves, 
 Have, lately, return'd the glad tidmgs to bring, 
 
47 
 
 Attuning tbeir throats, with the songs of their loveSy 
 And, sweetly, proclaiming the empire of spring. 
 
 All nature is cheerful, and smiling around, [brow ; 
 
 The lambkins are sporting on the hillock's green 
 The farmer, for planting, preparing his ground, 
 
 And whistling for joy, as he follows his plow. 
 
 His hopes, now, are raised from the beauties of spring, 
 That his labors thro' summer, may amply be crown'd, 
 
 When autumn a bountiful treasure shall bring, 
 
 From the blessings of Heav'n bestow'd on his ground. 
 
 May God ever bless thee ! thou land of delight ! 
 
 In all that gives pleasure to seasons of care ; 
 When the glories of spring are unveil'd, on the sight, 
 
 What country under Heav'n can with thee compare I 
 
 Some others may boast of their fruits and their wines, 
 Where spring smiles in beauty, and winter ne'er raves, 
 And yet, in each place where the sun brighter shines, 
 . One man is a tyrant, and the rest are his slaves. 
 
 With freedom and plenty upon a rich shore. 
 From it I would wander to no foreign strand ; 
 
 While Heaven's chief blessings around me still pour, 
 The fairest and dearest 's my own native land. 
 
 1824. 
 
48 
 
 REFLECTIONS 
 
 WHILE PASSING ALONG THE ROAD FROM WAYNESVILLE 
 TO HARVEYSBURG, EXCITED BY THE RECOLLECTION OE 
 THE EIRST CONVERSATION I HAD WITH DEAR LYDIA, 
 WHO IS NOW NO MORE. 
 
 "What causes I can find of late 
 
 For grief and trouble sore, 
 Since by a hapless turn of fate 
 
 Dear Lydia is no more. 
 
 Instead of joys and soften'd cares, 
 
 Unmix'd witb scenes of wo, 
 Of pleasant days and bappy years, 
 
 I naught but sorrow know. 
 
 Though I have wish'd to be resign'd 
 
 To my unhappy lot, 
 Some things imprinted on my mind 
 
 Can never be forgot. 
 
 Oh ! ever dear and loving wife, 
 
 It causes me to grieve 
 That thou so early in thy life 
 
 Shouldst have this world to leave. 
 
49 
 
 That I so soon must "be bereft 
 
 Of one I held so dear, 
 And our poor helpless children left 
 
 Without a mother's care. 
 
 The hopes of future usefulness, 
 Which thy past conduct gave 
 
 (Though we thy virtues still confess) 
 Are blasted in the grave. 
 
 How deeply I have had to mourn, 
 Whene'er the thought arose, 
 
 What racking pain thou must have borne 
 Before the final close, 
 
 That in the space of one short night 
 
 Could lay thy body low, 
 And leave me in this mournful plight 
 
 To bear a load of woe. 
 
 Without one thought to comfort me^ 
 Or ease my troubled breast. 
 
 Except, that thou from pain art free^ 
 And in eternal rest. 
 
 But still the scenes of early life, 
 
 And of each happy day, 
 Which with a true and loving wife 
 
 So swiftly pass'd away. 
 
50 
 
 Back to my mind as swiftly come, 
 
 In retrospective view, 
 Upon the road or at my home, 
 
 And anguisli still renew. 
 
 Near fourteen years have now expired 
 Since I first talk'd with thee, 
 
 And of thee first thy name inc[uired. 
 And it was told to me. 
 
 I overtook thee on this hill * 
 
 Upon a summer's day, 
 As we from meeting f at Waynesville, 
 
 Did pass along this way. 
 
 I once before had seen thy face. 
 
 And had thy look admired, 
 Eut of thy name or dwelling place, 
 
 I had not yet inquired. 
 
 Thy person I had borne in mind, 
 
 And wish'd again to see. 
 And now was pleased this chance to find 
 
 To talk awhUe with thee. 
 
 Thy countenance was fair and sweet, 
 Then in the bloom of youth : 
 
 * The hill east of the Waynesville bridge. 
 
 f Miami quarterly meeting, in the eighth month, 1819. 
 
51 
 
 Tliy heart was tender and replete 
 With innocence and truth. 
 
 We rode together sev'ral miles. 
 
 In conversation free, 
 Thy face possessing still such smiles 
 
 As lovers wish to see. 
 
 I now can see thy looks as plain 
 
 As when we rode along. 
 And hear in the same gentle strain 
 
 The language of thy tongue. 
 
 This scene is past, and many more 
 
 Which I reflect upon, 
 Though not with pleasure as before, 
 
 For thou art ever gone. 
 
 The ties which bound thee to my heart 
 Have been asunder torn, 
 
 And while my spirit feels the smart, 
 I still for thee shall mourn. 
 
 I never more shall see thy face, 
 While on the earth I dwell. 
 But if we meet in heavenly grace 
 It will with both be well. 
 1833. 
 
52 
 
 PAIN AND SORROW 
 
 INCIDENT TO HUMAN LIFE, BUT EVIL THE RESULT 
 OUR OWN POLLY. 
 
 The life of man is but a span, 
 
 And full of grief and care, 
 But future bliss, to balance this, 
 
 Will be the christian's share. 
 
 The sweetest rose that ever blows, 
 
 Has thorns upon its stem, 
 And ought below unmix'd with woe, 
 
 Can be no earthly gem. 
 
 Yet all is good when understood, 
 
 In heaven's unerring plan. 
 And the worst ill we have to feel, 
 
 Is from the fault of man. 
 
 For men are all so prone to fall, 
 
 Into an evil course, 
 It often tends to thwart good endS;, 
 
 And leads from bad to worse. 
 
 In youthful pride we turn aside, 
 From the true path of peace, 
 
53 
 
 And tMnk that we may tappy be, 
 If our desires we please. 
 
 But in a while the fatal smile 
 
 Of pleasure fades away, 
 And we begin to see how sin 
 
 Has led the soul astray. 
 
 And while we sup the bitter cup^ 
 
 Which folly thus prepares, 
 We may in vain of ills complain^ 
 
 Which ev'ry sinner shares. 
 
 But when distress'd it is not best 
 
 To sink into despair, 
 A God of love, from heav'n above, 
 
 Will hear a contrite prayer. 
 
 The spirit saith, " Come in true faith, 
 There 's mercy yet in store. 
 
 Let ev'ry one who wrong hath done, 
 Return and sin no more." 
 
 Why will not, then, the sons of men, 
 
 With Grod's sure mercy close. 
 And shun, though late, that dreadful state^ 
 Which brings eternal woes. 
 Twelfth month, 1840. 
 5 
 
u 
 
 FALL. 
 
 Now, notwithstanding all that poets sing 
 
 Of pleasure in " the merry months of Spring," 
 
 Of gentle breezes and refreshing showers, 
 
 Of fost'ring sunbeams and of opening flowers, 
 
 To me most pleasant of the seasons all, 
 
 Is " yellow Autumn," or the months of FalL 
 
 Spring may be sweet to poets, bred in towns, 
 
 Or to some idle, lounging country lowns, 
 
 Worthless for aught but to be deep in love, 
 
 Or listen to the music of the grove ; 
 
 Yet to th' industrious brings a scene of care, 
 
 And bids them for their summer's work prepare ; 
 
 Inspired with hope, yet with concern they view 
 
 Time swiftly fleeting, and their work to do ; 
 
 Aware that all their hopes may chance to fail, 
 
 From summer's drought, or storms of wind and hail ; 
 
 From ravages of worms, black birds, or crows, 
 
 Blasting their labors as the season goes ; 
 
 The farmer's hopes are form'd, his plans devised, 
 
 But ne'er in Spring can they be realized. 
 
 Next Summer comes, and oft with sickness wan, 
 Makes sad impressions on the face of man ; 
 But when in Fall the sickly season ends, 
 The man who has not lost his dearest friends, 
 Who sees he has escaped the fatal blow, 
 
55 
 
 Whicli laid some of liis nearest neighbors low, 
 And now beholds liis toils witli plenty crown'd, 
 With thankfulness will feel his heart to bound. 
 His barn well stored against the winter's day, 
 Affords more pleasure than "the flowers of May; " 
 Large fields of corn with heavy, bending ears, 
 Now, to his eye, a charming sight appears. 
 He often sees his crops have far surpass'd 
 His highest hopes, while summer's drought did last ; 
 The loads of fruit which on his trees now hang, 
 Delight him more than all the birds that sang 
 Among the trees, the merry spring before. 
 While yet from frost the fruit was not secure. 
 Potatoes, pumpkins, garden roots and all, 
 Show their perfection only in the fall. 
 Kich, yellow cheeses on the shelves now shine, 
 Heady for market, from the milk of kine. 
 Dried fruit in heaps upon some upper floor, 
 Or pack'd in casks, augment his ample store, 
 While the rich cider from the press doth flow, 
 To fill his barrels in the vault below ; 
 These, with the treasures of the barn and field, 
 Joy and profusion to the farmer yield, 
 And fill his cheerful heart with gratitude 
 To the all- wise Dispenser of all good. 
 Whose are all things, and from whose bounteous hand 
 -Flow peace and plenty o'er a smiling land. 
 1826, 
 
56 
 
 REFLECTIONS, 
 
 miL^ LOOKING AT A GROVE OF FOREST TREES WHEREOK 
 SOME DEAD LEAVES WERE RUSTLING IN THE WIND, 
 
 Thougli mortal men may lay their schemes 
 
 Through a short life of pain, 
 The world is but a land of dreams, 
 
 And human labor vain. 
 
 The leaves may rustle on these treeSy 
 
 Their lofty tops may wave 
 Before the lively western breeze, 
 
 When I am in the grave. 
 
 It is no harm to form a plan. 
 
 Or modest hopes to raise ; 
 Yet human life is but a span, 
 
 And full of troubled days„ 
 
 My loving wife is gone to rest, 
 
 Though youngest of the twaioj. 
 And I with care and grief oppress' d,. 
 
 Have mourn' d for her in vain. 
 
 Sometimes discouraged in my mind. 
 
 Each prospect dark appears^ 
 And when relief I seem to find^ 
 
 'T is in a flood of tears. 
 
57 
 
 But when, tliroiigli mercy, grief and pais 
 Are banish'd from my Tbrea&t, 
 
 A cheering hope I entertain, 
 That all is for the best. 
 
 Though all things round so sad appear^ 
 
 Since my companion died, 
 My home to me is still more dear. 
 
 Than any spot beside. 
 
 Then while I live^ let me stay here. 
 
 If still a home I have, 
 And when I die, be buried near 
 
 My dear companion's grave, 
 
 1834, 
 
 THE WIDOW OF PETER CLEAVEK, 
 
 LAMENTING THE DEATH OF HER HUSBAND, 
 
 ! may the muse which lends her tuneful breath 
 To poets, when they sing of grief and death. 
 By ancient bards declared to never smile, * 
 
 * The muse which, according to the opinion of the ancientSj, 
 inspired mourners and disappointed lovers, was said to never 
 smile. 
 
58 
 
 Be tlie inspirer of my tumble style, 
 
 While I in plaintive strains my sorrows pour, 
 
 O'er a dear husband who is now no more. 
 
 The gay, the proud, the thoughtless, and the vain, 
 At ill success may murmur and complain ; 
 But thousands in the world can never know, 
 What sore afflictions others undergo ; 
 Without a thought what soon may be their lot, 
 The woes of others are by them forgot : 
 In earthly blessings, oh ! how vain to trust ! 
 And youth and beauty soon are laid in dust. 
 In early life with a kind husband blest, 
 I toil'd with pleasure and in peace could rest : 
 In mutual love we pass'd each happy day, 
 And grief and sorrow then seem'd far away, 
 But with advancing time we learn'd to know 
 All things were quite uncertain here below. 
 And scenes of trouble which excited tears, 
 Appear'd increasing with revolving years ; 
 A younger sister whom I dearly loved, 
 Was out of time in sprightly youth removed ; 
 And two young children, nearer to my heart. 
 In innocence did to the grave depart ; 
 Our house was burnt and property destroy' d. 
 Which to procure had long our hands employ'd. 
 For our dear children though a while we grieved, 
 Time eased our sorrows and our cares relieved ;' 
 To lose our goods seem'd an unhappy lot, 
 
59 
 
 But trouble of this kind may be forgot : 
 
 And all our losses never could compare 
 
 Witb one wbicli I at present baye to bear. 
 
 We still work'd on, and were retrieving fast 
 
 What we bad lost by the destructive blast. 
 
 When in the midst of hopes for better days, 
 
 Which out of sorrow might our spirits raise, 
 
 My loving husband and my constant friend, 
 
 On whom I could so much for help depend, 
 
 Out of an active and laborious life, 
 
 From his dear children and his tender wife. 
 
 Was by the hand of death compell'd to leave 
 
 This wide creation for a narrow grave ; 
 
 And I a solitary mourner left. 
 
 Of earthly consolation quite bereft, 
 
 Here in a lonesome and secluded spot, 
 
 With unavailing tears lament my lot ; 
 
 How all the pleasant days which I have known, 
 
 On time's swift pinions have forever flown. 
 
 Though years may still revolve, they never more 
 
 Will my dear husband to his spouse restore. 
 
 On all his labors now I look in vain, 
 
 What once brought pleasure now produces pain ; 
 
 About the farm his various works I see, 
 
 Perform' d for our dear children and for me i 
 
 While yet in health to hardy toils inured, 
 
 Bread for his family he still procured, 
 
 And still to me display' d his tender care, 
 
60 
 
 To ease eacli burden I was doom'd to bear. 
 But oil ! liow changed appear all things around I 
 'T is silence now and solitude profound, 
 Where once his ax upon the timber play'd, 
 "While fields and buildings on the farm he made. 
 And I am now exposed to hardships more 
 Than I had been in all my life before. 
 
 Next to my husband, in a mourner's hearty 
 Our tender children claim the dearest part, 
 For all his features though in death now cold, 
 I in their faces plainly can behold ; 
 But these dear objects of my fond desire, 
 In childhood yet their father's care require : 
 They all are boys, and his instruction need. 
 In proper business rightly to proceed ; . 
 To show them what to do and make them mind 
 Their sev'ral duties in the tasks assign'd. 
 To work in doors and have without such care, 
 Sometimes seems more than I have strength to bear; 
 The scenes of nature once could give delight, 
 But now look sad and lonesome to my sight. 
 And only have a tendency to raise 
 Li my sad heart the thoughts of former days, 
 When we in health could take a pleasant walk. 
 To view these scenes, and on such subjects talk, 
 Well pleased myself with what I then could see, 
 He seem'd more pleased because it pleased me. 
 But he is gone, his troubles are all o'er, 
 
61 
 
 And I stall see him m this world no more; 
 His love and kindness, though we had to part, 
 With me shall live, engraven on my heart. 
 How long must I continue thus to shed 
 My unavailing sorrows o'er the dead ? 
 Let me endeavor to become resign' d, 
 And hope compose the troubles of my mind : 
 Since G-od has promised that he still would be 
 A friend to such as should be left like me — 
 A father to the fatherless, and those 
 Who in his goodness will their trust repose. 
 If he on me did such a trial send. 
 It was design'd to answer some good en=d; 
 Then may his promises enable me 
 To be content whate'er my lot may be, 
 And my dear children claim his heav'nly care. 
 To keep them out of every sinful snare, 
 That we in this vain world may be so blest 
 As in the end to find eternal rest ; 
 But while I live whate'er my lot may be, 
 I shall, dear Peter, still remember thee, 
 1833. 
 
62 
 
 ACEOSTIC, FOR M. P. 
 
 'Mid all tlie cliaiiges of this transient state, 
 And all the ills wHdi on poor mortals wait, 
 However high or low the ranks we claim, 
 All claim one passion, all possess the same. 
 Love is the name whereby it still is known, 
 And no one wishes long to live alone. 
 Placed as we are in such a world as this, 
 Love was design' d to be our mutual bliss, 
 Unless the heart to tender feelings cold, 
 Makes it consist but in the love of gold. 
 Mere useless trash when mortals come to die. 
 Each sordid miser will be forced to cry. 
 Riches have wings and often leave their place 
 The seat of poverty and foul disgrace ; 
 Hence we should learn to never have our hearts, 
 Raised by our riches or our noble parts, 
 On what we may possess of earthly things. 
 Undue dependence often ruin brings. 
 Give me, therefore, what I would better call, 
 However short it in the end may fall; 
 Though quite unworthy of the gift I crave, 
 Heav'n grant me such a wife as once it gave, 
 In whose sweet company a life of care 
 Shall be no burden, or more light to bear. 
 Such hopes my spirit at the present cheer, 
 
63 
 
 Under a feeling of the love sincere 
 
 My heart possesses for a promised bride, 
 
 More dear to me tlian all the world beside. 
 
 Endear' d by her true love devoid of art, 
 
 Reciprocated from a feeling heart. 
 
 Her friend, whose mind no sordid motive knows, 
 
 Encouraged first the subject to propose, 
 
 Reflects upon its progress with delight, 
 
 Safely concluding that it may be right. 
 
 Gould I recant and my afi"ections place, 
 
 However free from shame or void of grace, 
 
 On one whose value lay in earthly dross, 
 
 Or riches make the object of my choice. 
 
 Lust, and not love, would be the moving cause. 
 
 Were I to lose thee now, my dearer part, 
 
 It would produce deep sarrow in my heart ; 
 
 Long as I lived the light of heav'n to see. 
 
 Life might itself a heavy burden be ; 
 
 Having my thoughts upon a former loss, 
 
 Another added would increase my cross, 
 
 Virtue alone from discontent could save. 
 
 Enabling me the ills of life to brave. 
 
 Therefore, my dear, our highest hopes should rest, 
 
 On what Grod's will may order for the best, 
 
 Mix'd with much ill the cup of life, we find, 
 
 Is often handed down to human kind, 
 
 Nor yet doth Ood such things for ill intend, 
 
 Designing them to answer some good end. 
 
64 
 
 Brouglit to tlie middle of my present song, 
 Unable rightly to keep sense along, 
 Try now, my mnse, to make tke latter part, 
 With better sense and rhyme with equal art, 
 However hard the task while hope remains, 
 Excite me to compose in pleasing strains, 
 Nor baffle with low style poetic pains ; 
 Though hard and rare, as it must be confess'd, 
 It is a subject which demand thy best. 
 Surely my willing muse no pains would spare, 
 On such a trial to delight the fair, 
 Yain the attempt if nonsense put in rhyme 
 Entice my reader to misspend her time. 
 Resuming now what I had left above. 
 To thee I turn, the object of my love. 
 Our mutual bliss, until by death we part. 
 Has love for its foundation in each heart. 
 Each wishing still its virtue to retain, 
 Reciprocal it may through life remain. 
 Let disappointments mingle with our care, 
 Or sickness come, or trials hard to bear; 
 Vital affection dwelling in each heart. 
 Each to the other comfort may impart. 
 Resolved henceforward thy true friend to be, 
 I hope thou wilt not be deceived in me, 
 Nor often have good reason me to blame, 
 While thou and thy true love remain the same, 
 Endow'd with faculties to understand, 
 
65 
 
 Duties required in each divine command, 
 Let us, therefore, while we to these attend, 
 On their fulfillment for true peace depend, 
 (jonsid'ring this well worth our chiefest care, 
 Knowing that time is short and none to spare. 
 Making our wants such prudent limits know, 
 As reason's dictates and our fortune show, 
 Yet never lacking what we ought to have, 
 Because we wish a little cash to save, 
 Endeav'ring thus our duties to fulfill. 
 Just as we ought through scenes of good aiid ill 
 Our time may be improved, and we be blest, 
 In the conclusion with eternal rest. 
 Now reader, if thou wilt the trouble take, 
 Praw off the capitals and see what they make, 
 
 EXPLANATION. 
 
 Mahala Plummer, through this summer^ 
 Her school will have to mind, 
 
 But when 't is over, to her lover, 
 In wedlock may be join'd. 
 Sixth month, 1834. 
 
 6* 
 
66 
 
 LINES 
 
 SUPPOSED TO EXPRESS THE PEELINGS OF REBECCA POOL, 
 WHEN ABOUT TO LEAYE THE LATE RESIDENCE OP HER 
 DECEASED HUSBAND, WILLIAM POOL, NEAR RICHMOND, 
 INDIANA, TO COME TO HARVEYSBURG, IN OHIO. 
 
 This was once the habitation 
 
 Where my fondest hopes did dwell, 
 
 But to me on this plantation, 
 Happy scenes have hid farewell. 
 
 There is nothing here to cheer me 
 
 Now of all that I survey, 
 And from scenes so sad and dreary, 
 
 I in sorrow go away. 
 
 But to go can I be willing 
 
 From my dear companion's grave? 
 
 How the thought my heart is filling, 
 With such grief as parting gave ! 
 
 Oh ! what sad and trying changes 
 
 On this present state attend ! 
 All where human fancy ranges 
 
 Is destined to have an end. 
 
 All our hopes of future pleasure, 
 And what little we enjoy, 
 
67 
 
 All we prize in earthly treasure, 
 One misfortune can destroy. 
 
 In the time of Yearly Meetmg, 
 With our friends in former years, 
 
 We had joy a,nd social greeting, 
 At the last a flood of tears. 
 
 Friends and kindred at our table, 
 We had freely entertain'd, 
 
 Eut this time we were unable, 
 And but few with us remain' d. 
 
 While the meeting was attended, 
 My dear husband dying lay, 
 
 And the very hour it ended, 
 Saw him cover'd in the clay. 
 
 Now disconsolate and mourning, 
 I am left my loss to bear, 
 
 To my native place returning, 
 With a load of grief and care. 
 
 What can soothe or end my sorrow, 
 Will the sight of friends once dear, 
 
 Which at Harveysburg to-morrow, 
 I perhaps may see and hear. 
 
 Oh ! I fear no change of places, 
 Can much pleasure bring to me, 
 
68 
 
 Or a siglit of friends whose faces 
 I have often wisli'd to see. 
 
 "Wbile the greatest earthly blessing. 
 One whose presence pleasure gave, 
 
 From the social band is missing, 
 In the cold and silent grave. 
 
 But I hope I may be patient, 
 Under all the grief I see, 
 
 And that Grod a gracious parent^ 
 May to my dear children be. 
 1839. 
 
 TO THE MEMORY OF JESSE BALLARD, 
 
 WHO RECENTLY DIED AT THE VILLAGE OF TECUMSEBj 
 IN MICHIGAN. 
 
 In Michigan, two hundred miles away, 
 Poor Jesse Ballard molders in the clay ; 
 Dear Lydia's brother, eldest of the four, 
 For whom through life a due respect she bore. 
 At Harvey sburg she * found an early grave, 
 And Jesse near the river Ro-isin's wave. 
 
 * The author's wife. 
 
69 
 
 Upon it's brinli the thriving village stantlsj 
 Where he had labor'd with industrious hands. 
 At the house carpenter's and joiner's trade. 
 And in ten years a handsome fortune made; 
 And by the people's votes oTbtain'd a seat 
 In the assembly of that growing state : 
 A state, though young, more noble far than those 
 Where slavery fills the land with human woes. 
 Ennobled by her firm, decided stand, 
 Against a union with the Texan band, 
 Which had by southern statesmen been design' d, 
 The chains of slavery faster still to bind. 
 Taught in Ohio, and by birth a Friend, 
 The claims of slavery he could not defend ; 
 A friend of temp'rance and of equal laws. 
 He might have useful been in each good cause ; 
 Eut just as he began a part to take 
 In state affairs, and help the laws to make. 
 His chief possessions were in ashes laid, 
 And he return'd to his accustom'd trade ; 
 And while progressing in his business well, 
 A piece of timber from a building fell, 
 Inflicting on his body such a wound. 
 That in four days he was beneath the ground. 
 He lived three days, retaining to the last 
 His senses and his mem'ry of the past. 
 And died with such composure in his breast, 
 As gave assurance of eternal rest. ' 
 
70 
 
 His bodjy peaceful in the grave clotli lie, 
 His spirit lives among the bless'd on high ; 
 Yet his lone widow and their children, four. 
 The loss of their protector must deplore, 
 And claim the tender sympathy of those. 
 Who from experience feel for others' woes ; 
 She lost a husband ere to Jesse wed. 
 And now the second is among the dead. 
 Remote from all his kindred of the name. 
 To their assistance he could have no claim j 
 However strong his wishes might have been 
 To see their faces in a trying scene ; 
 Though by the nearest kindred ties allied, 
 From him and from each other scatter' d wide,. 
 Three brothers yet alive ; and sisters, two, 
 Their different callings and their cares pursue ; 
 His parents in the silent grave repose, 
 And none of them beheld his final close ; 
 They could no more than of his exit hear, 
 And to his mem'ry shed a tender tear, 
 
 We heard that he design' d to come this fall. 
 To see his former friends and kindred all. 
 Once more, in life, his old footsteps retrace, 
 And see th' improvements round his native placCp 
 And bring his wife where she had never been^ 
 To be a witness of each pleasing scene. 
 Pleased with the hope of seeing him again. 
 Our pleasure was destined to end in pain. 
 
71 
 
 For soon his widow information gave, 
 That he was dead and in the silent grave. 
 Though disappointment seems to be our lot. 
 Yet our dear brother shall not be forgot ; 
 If ever in this life a chance I have, 
 I '11 see his children, and their father's grave ; 
 And for his mem'ry my respect to show, 
 On each of them a present will bestow ; 
 And to his spouse, whose lot has been so hard, 
 Crive an assurance of a due regard ; 
 For once my heart by such a loss was tried. 
 When Jesse's sister, my dear partner, died. 
 And still with tender sympathy can glow, 
 When such afflictions others undergo ; 
 And nearer home it brings the present case. 
 Because a brother lies in death's embrace ; 
 And one who more resembled my dear spouse, 
 Than any other in her father's house. 
 But grief is vain, and should the sooner cease, 
 From the reflection that they died in peace, 
 And now are safe upon that blissful shore, 
 Where pain and death can them molest no more. 
 1839. 
 
J. M., 
 
 OR THE DANGER OE EXTREMES IN EELIGIOTJS BELIEF 
 
 J. M. was Lorn no matter wlaere -— 
 
 And when I cannot tell : 
 When first I knew liim he could swear. 
 
 And loved a dram too welL 
 
 In universalism bold, 
 
 He grew a reprobate. 
 And whisky to the drunkards sold 
 
 Who hung about his gate. 
 
 His grocery became a curse, 
 
 What whisky shop is not? 
 And daily growing worse and worse 
 
 At length he died a sot. 
 
 His faithful wife, though young, had sunk 
 
 Into the grave before, 
 And he continued to get drunk 
 
 'Till he could drink no more« 
 
 The wretched man, before he died. 
 
 Condemn' d by his own hearty 
 Another wicked doctrine tried, 
 
 Though he was right in part> 
 
/O 
 
 " That G-od did some predestinate 
 
 To sin and sink in woe, 
 And that among the reprobate 
 
 Men like himself must go." 
 
 The two first lines contain a lie, 
 And Scripture misconstrue ; 
 
 Yet if a man in sin will die, 
 
 The third and fourth are true. 
 
 His parents, and his brothers too, 
 
 Were of a christian sect, 
 And each for aught I ever knew, 
 
 Was worthy of respect. 
 
 Nor do I write this narrative 
 
 Eor aught against the dead, 
 
 But for the sake of some that live, 
 ^j whom it may be read. 
 
 Then let each one the vices shun . 
 
 That ruin'd this poor man. 
 And through this life, exempt from strife. 
 
 Still do the best he can. 
 
 " God wiileth not a sinner's death," 
 Yet none can heaven secure 
 
 Without obedience to that faith 
 Which makes the spirit pure. 
 7 
 
74 
 
 And tliat vile doctrine held by some, 
 Condemning babes unborn, 
 
 Should leave it's lying teachers dumb, 
 Of heaven and earth the scorn. 
 
 TO J. BALLARD, OF INDIANA. 
 
 Dear Brother: 
 
 Though by no strong necessity required. 
 
 The thought of writing has my pen inspired. 
 
 For ease and speed in such a busy time, 
 
 Excuse ray folly if I wte in rhyme. 
 
 In the first place, it comes in course to tell, 
 
 That I and all my family are well ; 
 
 And hope that health and peace may be your lot, 
 
 For though so distant you are not forgot ; 
 
 As far as kindredship or friendship goes, 
 
 I wish to cherish all that from it flows ; 
 
 And far as obligations on me lay, 
 
 I hope I may be able to repay. 
 
 I think you have no reason to complain. 
 
 That I from writing should so long refrain ; 
 
 It has not been so long since you removed. 
 
 That I for much neglect could be reproved. 
 
 While I the welfai-e of my kindred prize, 
 
75 
 
 Witli the afflicted I can symputLize ; 
 
 And e'en tlie slave Ibeneatli a southern sky, 
 
 Claims from my breast a sympathetic sigh. 
 
 On themes like these, and in the case of such, 
 
 You are aware that I have written much. 
 
 But when my relatives are doing well, 
 
 I have but little for their good to telL 
 
 Although it is sometimes a cause of pain, 
 That friends and kindred cannot here remain, 
 I love too well this land of big papaws, 
 To leave it soon for hazel nuts or haws. 
 I love too well where plenty long has smiled. 
 To leave it freely for a western wild. 
 Your country may be good, not better though 
 Than where Miami's streams through Warren flow. 
 If this fair land is not on earth the best, 
 It long has stood unrival'd in the west. 
 All things just now to good advantage show : 
 The wheat looks well, and corn begins to grow, 
 Of last year's products an abundant store 
 Is still on hand ; what can we covet more ? 
 We have our wants — some lack the needful cash 
 To get good bargains in the merchant's trash — 
 And many people know not what to do, 
 To pay the debts that are already due. 
 But it is not the fault of our good land. 
 That men their business have not better plann'd; 
 While speculation an impetus gave, 
 
T6 
 
 To run in debt for all that pride could erave ; 
 
 The Jackson policy^ and Benton schemes, 
 
 Have banish' d cash for golden humbug dreams^ 
 
 Until the people from their stupor rose^ 
 
 And thought to bring such bungling to a close ; 
 
 But now the only hope of some is fled — 
 
 The cash is gone, and Harrison is dead. 
 
 He ruled one month, and paid a debt then due,. 
 
 As all the living soon will have to do. 
 
 His death, however,, can produce no ill. 
 
 If those in power their duty should fulfill; 
 
 But this I fear will never be the case, 
 
 While a slave holder fills the highest place ; 
 
 For southern int'rests he is bound to feel, 
 
 And let the north provide for its own weal. 
 
 If means are used to strengthen slavery's chain. 
 
 We for prosperity may look in vain ; 
 
 For at the present hour this monster holds 
 
 Both north and south within its winding folds ; 
 
 And lasting good can never be enjoy'd, 
 
 Until th' accursed system is destroy'd. 
 
 It's fall, however, is decreed on high^ 
 
 Though we may not be here when it shall die ; 
 
 Yet we therein have duties to fulfill, 
 
 Which cannot be perform'd by being still ; 
 
 And yet no rashness should the conduct stain,. 
 
 Of those who would a glorious triumph gain ; 
 
 Truth, virtue, and good talents, are combined^ 
 
77 
 
 To banisli tliis great evil from mankind. 
 
 And after slavery shall have pass'd away. 
 
 In spite of the great speech of Henry Clay, 
 
 And all the lynchings and the base gag laws, 
 
 Which were intended to suppress the cause, 
 
 The name of Morris * will inspire the lays 
 
 Of ransom'd thousands, in their songs of praise 
 
 To G-od, the author of the work and plan 
 
 Of giving freedom to the eoior'd man. 
 
 And honor to the mem'ry, will he paid, 
 
 Of John Q. Adams and of William Slade; 
 
 These three, who first the cause in congress plead, 
 
 Must ere that time be number'd with the dead ; 
 
 And yet their names will last through time's long course, 
 
 With those of Pitt, and Fox, and Wilberforce ; 
 
 The first who plead the cause beyond the seas, 
 
 Whose names are wafted here on ev'ry breeze 
 
 With that of Clarkson, whose long labors past. 
 
 To Britain's glory did redound at last, 
 
 When from the slaves in the West India Isles^ 
 
 The broken shackles fell in rusty piles ; 
 
 The labors, thus, of fifty years did close, 
 
 Which put an end to countless human woeSo 
 
 Of the first noble band who firmly stood 
 Against the foreign trade in flesh and blood, 
 
 * Thomas Morris, of Cincinnati, who replied to the speech 
 of Henry Clay. 
 
78 
 
 Clarkson, alone, whose years are now four score^ 
 
 Is witli tlie living;, and the rest no more. 
 
 Of those who in the islands broke the chain,. 
 
 A host of true philanthropists remain, 
 
 Whose names and deeds their native land adorn^ 
 
 And will he bless' d by thousands yet unborn. 
 
 Two recent triumphs under wholesome laws, 
 
 Have through this country much advanced the cause^ 
 
 The captives of the Amistead are freed, 
 
 The highest court performed the noble deed ; 
 
 And in this county, as you may have heard, 
 
 Brooke* and his comrades all from guilt were clear'd. 
 
 The cause, in their behalf, was ably plead, 
 
 And much new light upon the subject shed 
 
 By lawyers William Bebb and Bobert Schenck, 
 
 Which show'd the plaintiff's cause was but a blanks. 
 
 The court declared, when making its decree,. 
 
 That ev'ry slave brought here, by law, is free ; 
 
 And that the citizens no wrong would do, 
 
 Such blacks from their oppressors to rescue. 
 
 If no unnecessary violence 
 
 Should be committed under such pretense; 
 
 That Bennet Bains did any money lose, 
 
 Or the defendants any thing abuse^^ 
 
 Or that he ever own'd or lost a slave^ 
 
 * For an explanation of this case, I refer my readers to the 
 Western Star, and other papers, which gave an account of the 
 decision of the Supreme Court, in fifth month, last. 
 
79 
 
 No valid evidence his party gave. 
 
 That he was back'd by evil men was known, 
 
 And all his charges out of court were thrown. 
 
 Thus ends the hope which fill'd the hearts of some. 
 
 That Brooke would at Columbus have his home. 
 
 He prospers stiU in helping the poor slave, 
 
 And Bennet Rains is in the drunkard's grave.* 
 
 Alas ! that such a thing should e'er be said, 
 
 Of any one among the silent dead. 
 
 The poor slave holders now will be afraid, 
 
 To have their negroes through this state convey'd; 
 
 To-morrow, congress will again convene, 
 
 But for what good remains yet to be seen. 
 
 The eyes of thousands are upon it fix'd. 
 
 With hope of good and fear of evil mix'd. 
 
 And yet the thoughts of most no further go, 
 
 Than to make money through the country flow, 
 
 And congress thus is call'd to try its hand. 
 
 To save the credit of a sinking land. 
 
 And if some transient good to us should faU, 
 
 It will be better than no good at all. 
 
 But let us once an end of slavery see, 
 
 And all the labor on our soil be free. 
 
 Let laws redress the wrongs and guard the rights. 
 
 Of liberated blacks as well as whites, 
 
 If justice says they must be colonized, 
 
 * He died a short time before the trial. 
 
80 
 
 Let it be done as may be best advised, 
 
 And not siicli prejudice to gratify, 
 
 As would compel tliem from tLeir bomes to fly. 
 
 Let congress a substantial bank create. 
 
 With pow'r to have a branch in ev'ry state, 
 
 Not subject to executive control, 
 
 Nor managed like the funds that Swartwout stole ; 
 
 To please no party nor the president, 
 
 But for the people and the government, 
 
 With such safeguards as would prevent great fraud, 
 
 Or speculation on a scale too broad. 
 
 Let duties be increased upon those things 
 
 From whence the greatest pride or luxury springs, 
 
 And on an inverse scale decreased on those 
 
 From whence substantial good or comfort flows, 
 
 Or let such treaties be with nations made. 
 
 As will produce a free exchange of trade, 
 
 That our own products may our wants supply. 
 
 Or pay for all the foreign goods we buy. 
 
 Let temperance throughout the land prevail, 
 
 And all the grog shops and distilleries fail. 
 
 Let all forget their enmity, and feel 
 
 That their own good is in the common weal, 
 
 With industry and christian morals join'd, 
 
 And we may be the happiest of mankind ; 
 
 Not happy only in the wealth we share. 
 
 But just as truly blest as men could bear. 
 
 Who now are living in a land of slaves. 
 
81 
 
 Boasting of freedom over martyrs' graves, 
 
 Witli things into snch wild disorder run, 
 
 That good whicli may /be plann'd can not be done, 
 
 If a reform can not be wrought some way, 
 
 I fear the doom of proud America. 
 
 To go thus far I did not first propose, 
 
 But still kept scribbling as the thoughts arose ; 
 
 Perhaps you may not thank me for my pains, 
 
 But still a little to relate remains. 
 
 That drunken, swearing lawyer, Thomas Ross, 
 
 Has quit the bottle to defend the cross, 
 
 He quit the court house for the tavern bar, 
 
 And in the sinners path had travel' d far. 
 
 But join'd the Methodists some time ago. 
 
 And from the pulpit now his words can flow. 
 
 His wife had been divorced for several years, 
 
 But his conversion has dispell' d her fears, 
 
 The long-lost husband and his former spouse. 
 
 Before John Blodget* have renew'd their vows. 
 
 And hope from hence to walk in virtue's ways. 
 
 And pass in love and peace their latter days. 
 
 A H , who had so nearly got 
 
 To be what might be call'd a drunken sot, 
 
 A sober man his duty now fulfills, 
 
 A brother in the church f with Ephraim Mills. 
 
 *The Baptist preacher at Lebanon, 
 t United Brethren at Harveysburg. 
 
82 
 
 I am not so sectarian in my views, 
 
 But that such changes are to me good news ; 
 
 While I prefer the principles of Friends, 
 
 I own as good whatever works good ends, 
 
 A sinner turning from his evil ways. 
 
 Makes joy in heav'n to the Kedeemer's praise, 
 
 And God of persons no respect will show, 
 
 Whate'er their names, who do the best they know. 
 
 I do not say that I will not remove, 
 
 But the necessity must stronger prove, 
 
 Than any reason I at present have. 
 
 To leave this country and dear Lydia's grave. 
 
 In friendship now with all my neighbors round, 
 
 Attached to them more than the fertile ground, 
 
 Enjoying privileges yet unknown, 
 
 To a new-settled country like your own; . 
 
 Grood mills, and schools, and friends located near, 
 
 All have a tendency to keep me here. 
 
 If friends forsake me or my home I lose, 
 
 'Twill then be time another place to choose, 
 
 And here I wish to let the matter rest, 
 
 And on conviction do what seems the best. 
 
 Let those who read excuse this hasty scroll. 
 
 For with it comes my best respects to all. 
 
 Farewell. 
 
 Fifth month, 30th, 1841. 
 
83 
 
 THE COMET OF 184S, 
 
 Though many people saw its tail, 
 Not many saw the comet, 
 
 Yet some weak hearts did nearly fail 
 For fear of danger from it. 
 
 But it is gone, and in its time 
 No bands of life did sever^ 
 
 And we shall see it in this clime 
 Again no more forever. 
 
 Though sev'ral had before been seen. 
 And some of them more splendid^ 
 
 And people had in terror been 
 Until the danger ended, 
 
 The present one did some affright, 
 
 Beyond my calculation ; 
 For I have view'd them with delight. 
 
 As wonders of creation. 
 
 In my short life I have seen three, 
 And each one was a stranger^ 
 
 But more than from the moon we see^ 
 I never thought of danger. 
 
84 
 
 The pow'r wliicli form'd the starry train 
 Is still his works controlling. 
 
 And in their places will retain 
 The orbs around us rolling. 
 
 Displaying wisdom, pow'r, and skill, 
 Unmatch'd by earthly splendor, 
 
 And while the mind with awe they fill, 
 Should none unhappy render. 
 
 What made the comet cause more dread. 
 
 Was Miller's declaration, 
 Made from the phantoms of his head. 
 
 More than from revelation. 
 
 That " some time in the present year, 
 
 The earth should burn " like Tophet, 
 
 But a mistake will soon appear, 
 And show he was no prophet. 
 
 To get the human mind confused 
 By some new fangled notion. 
 
 Is oft a scheme by Satan used 
 To hinder true devotion. 
 
 To follow truth, in what we know, 
 Would free the heart from error, 
 
 And no confusion then would grow 
 Out of these tales of terror. 
 
85 
 
 We shouid no Scripture truths deny. 
 Nor aftti' men he running, 
 
 Who vainly into myst'ries pry 
 By human wit and cunning. 
 
 One thing we know — a solemn thing. 
 Which needs no nice explaining. 
 
 That time, to us, an end will bring, 
 Of aU to earth pertaining. 
 
 When all who now in being are 
 
 Shall with the dust he blended, 
 
 Death and the grave may witness bear,^ 
 The world, to us, is ended. 
 
 And Christ, the Scriptures will fulfill. 
 To all whose hearts are given, 
 
 That God, on earth, may do his will, 
 "As it is done in heaven," 
 
 And to the wicked will reveal 
 Himself in flaming terrors, 
 
 That they the punishment may feel 
 Of all their sins and errors. 
 
 " But of the day or hour," or when, 
 " No man on earth can know it,'' 
 
 Nor angels, by their purer ken, 
 Until the day shall show it. 
 
86 
 
 " One day is as a thousand years," 
 
 And vice versa stated, 
 Witli Him whose glory still appears 
 
 In all that was created. 
 
 Which tells to man a truth sublime, 
 
 That heav'nly operations 
 €an not be limited by time, 
 
 Nor human calculations. 
 
 Whatever God, for man, design' d, 
 
 Upon his part is doing. 
 And sinners in the end will find 
 
 Their everlasting ruin. 
 
 The righteous, with the host shall join, 
 Which round the throne are singing, 
 
 And as the stars forever shine, 
 
 To God the glory bringing. 
 Fourth month, 1843. 
 
 TO JONATHAN AND EEBECCA HADLY, 
 
 ON THE DEATH OF THEIR SON, ISAAC. 
 
 As I am one that has affliction borne, 
 
 And have at diff 'rent times been call'd to mourn, 
 
87 
 
 I sympathize witli you in the great loss 
 Whieh to your feelings has been such a cross. 
 Though death in his best attitude may come, 
 To summon mortals to the silent tomb, 
 Whate'er may be the state of those he calls, 
 The stroke, with weight, on the survivor falls, 
 And oft by sympathetic force extends. 
 To their surrounding relatives and friends. 
 
 Mortality, since first the world began, 
 Was by Jehovah's mandate stamp'd on man, 
 Yet in most cases, even to the best. 
 Death in their houses is no welcome guest ; 
 Our love of life from nature we receive. 
 And the desire to see our children live ; 
 But death must come, and some dear one departs. 
 Which break the ties that bound him to our hearts, 
 And these must smart and bleed at every pore. 
 An object of our love is now no more. 
 Thus often under death's relentless power, 
 Our fondest hopes are blasted in an hour. 
 Yet oft behind the curtain which he draws. 
 Of consolation we may find a cause : 
 The subject has exchanged a world of pain. 
 For realms where bliss and life immortal reign ; 
 Happy are those who virtuous paths have trod. 
 And "bless'd are those who die in peace with Grod, 
 From henceforth they shall from their labors rest," 
 And dwell forever with the truly blest; 
 
88 
 
 And your dear Isaac, subject of my song, 
 
 Thougii by disease he was afflicted long, 
 
 Has gone in peace to liis eternal borne, 
 
 Wbere pain, disease, and death can never come. 
 
 The proofs of piety which he had given, 
 
 His resignation to the will of heaven. 
 
 The peaceful state, the countenance serene, 
 
 "With which he left a tribulated scene, 
 
 To all concern' d a full assurance gave 
 
 Of his eternal peace beyond the grave. 
 
 And yet, for him, the fond regard you bore, 
 The health and comfort all eujoy'd before : 
 
 In the abundance of good things possess'd, 
 And the obedience of your children bless' d, 
 Contrasted with the loss that you have borne, 
 Have sorely tried, and caused your hearts to mourn. 
 Those finer feelings of the inmost soul, 
 Under excitement, hardest to control. 
 Are seldom reaKzed, or fully known, 
 Before their object may be dead and gone. 
 When all were well you loved him with the rest. 
 Of your affections, each a share possess'd; 
 When sickness came, it brought you more to see,, - 
 If he should die, how great the loss would be ; 
 But has not death in the conclusion shown, 
 That love's true pathos was before unknown — 
 How dear he was no language could declare, 
 And the affliction seem'd too great to bear. 
 
89 
 
 Those tilings wHcli once to you some pleasure gaye. 
 
 All went with Isaac to the silent grave : 
 
 A void was form'd which nothing seems to fill, 
 
 Of all that once could please the human will. 
 
 Our consolation then on Him depends, 
 
 Who sends affliction to promote good ends ; 
 
 Perhaps the dispensation which He sent 
 
 For your instruction has been kindly meant, 
 
 Be as it may, I have no doubt you feel 
 
 That Providence would not unjustly deal; 
 
 For Isaac's sake alone it might have been, 
 
 That he was call'd to leave this transient scene ; 
 
 By sin unsullied, angel's wings could bear 
 
 His soul unfetter' d from a world of care. 
 
 Wherein the best and most obedient child, 
 
 In after years might be by sin defiled ; 
 
 And while you cherish in remembrance dear 
 
 The virtues of your son while living here, 
 
 Let the reflection give your spirits rest, 
 
 That God is gracious and his will the best. 
 
 Thus having written what my feelings were, 
 Upon the subject of your grief and care, 
 I now will write an epitaph upon 
 The humble grave of your departed son. 
 Eleventh month, 1843. 
 
 8 
 
90 
 
 EPITAPH, 
 
 TO THE MEMORY OF ISAAC HADLY, OF CLINTON COUNTY, 
 
 OHIO. 
 
 In death's impenetralble sLade, 
 
 Below this grassy heap, 
 The cold remains in silence laid, 
 
 Of Isaac Hadlj sleep. 
 
 In early life he took good ways, 
 
 Avoiding sin and shame, 
 His end was happy, to the praise 
 
 Of his Redeemer's name. 
 
 His body lies in peaceful rest. 
 
 And his immortal soul 
 Is gone to dwell among the blest, 
 
 While endless ages roll. 
 
 AN ODE, 
 
 COMMEMORATING EMANCIPATION IN THE WES*r INDIA 
 
 ISLANDS. 
 
 What G-od for our brethren so recently wrotightj 
 Who dwell far away in the West India Isles^ 
 
91 
 
 Upon sneli a day to remembrance is brouglit, 
 
 Of thousands rejoicing where sweet freedom smiles, 
 Proclaiming in triumph, with heart-thrilling strains, 
 " Oppression is ended and liberty reigns." 
 
 They groan'd for some ages in bondage severe, 
 
 But Mercy came down and has broken their bands, 
 
 A voice of rejoicing in fancy we hear. 
 
 Gome with a shrill echo from far distant lands; 
 
 " G-od in his great mercy has broken our chains. 
 
 Oppression is ^nded and liberty reigns." 
 
 Achieved without blood by Jehovah's own arm, 
 
 Unlike the liberation of St. Domingo, 
 When in the midst of terrors and constant alarm. 
 
 The life blood of many like water did flow, 
 And of a late struggle her annals now stains. 
 Where slavery is ended and liberty reigns. 
 
 The good men of Britain have merited praise. 
 
 Who, under Jehovah, such wonders have wrought, 
 
 When for the poor bondmen of th' African race. 
 The boon of sweet freedom to the Islands was bro't. 
 
 And as a rich blessing upon them remains, 
 
 Where slavery is ended and liberty reigns. 
 
 Their hearts with true thankfulness forever sbould glow^ 
 Por such a great mercy upon them bestow'd, 
 
92 
 
 WHle thousands of others the wrongs undergo, 
 
 Which make life a burden and existence a load ; 
 Where slavery the name of religion profanes, 
 And ever will do it 'till liberty reigns. 
 
 And while thus rejoicing, deep sorrow we feel, 
 For all the poor bondmen of our native land, 
 
 Whose hmbs have been pierced by the iron and steely . 
 Whose spirits are crush'd by oppression's strong hand, 
 
 But some are escaping to Canada's plains, 
 
 In Victoria's dominions, where liberty reigns. 
 
 Our feeling of pity can not be too deep, 
 
 But into rash measures should never be drawn, 
 
 And while for their wrongs and afflictions we weep. 
 The day of redemption is beginning to dawn, 
 
 When they may sing joyfully, relieved from their pains, 
 
 " Oppression is ended and liberty reigns." 
 
 And even the oppressor our pity should share, 
 Who now in his pride and his pleasure can roily 
 
 For a coming judgment neglecting to prepare. 
 Or seek for God's mercy to save his own soul, 
 
 Who still for expedients is racking his brains, 
 
 And will not " do justly" 'till liberty reigns. 
 
 May infinite Mercy so soften his heart, 
 That his sad condition he timely may see;, 
 
93 
 
 A.nd from Ms great folly and evil depart, 
 
 "And break ev'ry yoke" that the bond may be free, 
 Whom he so unjustly in thraldom detains, 
 A.nd still must imbrute them 'till Kberty reigns. 
 
 Grood men of all parties are aiding the cause, 
 And may heaven's blessing their efforts yet crown. 
 
 Producing such equal and rational laws, 
 
 That slavery may end and oppression go down. 
 
 That every human being with blood in his veinSj 
 
 May stand up a freeman when liberty reigns. 
 
 Our voices 'till then must be heard in true prayer^ 
 And when the great jubilee comes to its birth, 
 
 The name of Jehovah in a free land declare, 
 
 And sound forth " his praises to the ends of the earth'' 
 
 Whom the earth nor the heaven of heavens contains. 
 
 But through his creation omnipotent reigns, 
 1843. 
 
94 
 
 STOEY 
 
 OF THE LIFE AND DEATH OF ELIAS HARYET, OP WAR- 
 SEN COUNTY, OHIO, WHO DEPARTED THIS LIFE AT 
 THE HOUSE OF HIS UNCLE, JAMES L. WHITSON, IN 
 POSEY COUNTY, INDIANA, ON THE TWELFTH DAY OF 
 THE NINTH MONTH, 1842, AGED SEVENTEEN YEARS, 
 THREE MONTHS, AND TWO DAYS. 
 
 The life of man is full of eare and pain. 
 
 His breath a vapor and his labor vain; i 
 
 Though we sometimes a little pleasure know, 
 
 No joj or bliss is lasting here below. 
 
 I now have grief like that which once I bore, 
 
 When my dear partner could be seen no more; 
 
 A son beloved, though hapless in his day. 
 
 Has lately been consign'd to silent clay — 
 
 Far from his home and native dwelling place, 
 
 Where no relations lie in earth's embrace. 
 
 Where none of those who were to him most dear, 
 
 Could soothe his pains or shed a parting tear. 
 
 Assist my muse, while I the story trace. 
 
 Of a poor wand'rer who has run his race, 
 
 Elias Harvey was my subject's name — 
 Of honest parents, but unknown to fame ; 
 Of a peculiar turn from infant days, 
 He did not seem inclined to evil ways, 
 But <jften in the woods and fields was known. 
 
95 
 
 To spend wliole days and even nigbts alone, 
 Attended only by a faithful hound, 
 Whose barkmg often made the woods resound. 
 Where rabbits and racoons did most resort, 
 To hunt and catch them was his fav'rite sport, 
 And with their skins the outer buildings lined, 
 Afforded pleasure to his youthful mind; 
 Would hunt at night and labor through the day, 
 And spent but little time at common play. 
 As time advanced his wishes stronger grew, 
 To be where he could better business do, 
 He read the story of those hunters brave, 
 Who in the wilderness had found their grave. 
 And wish'd to imitate old Daniel Boone, 
 In hunting game much larger than the coon, 
 To be exempt from common work and care, 
 And iunt the deer, the buffalo, and bear. 
 
 When nearly seventeen he ran away. 
 And more than forty days from home did stay. 
 His first excursion to the north was made,* 
 Where through the mire and snow he had to wade- 
 Endured fatigue and caught but little game. 
 And to his father's house return' d with shame. 
 I welcomed him as a returning son. 
 And cheerfully forgave what he had done, 
 In hope he might do better than before, 
 
 *To the heads of the Augiaise, in Allen county. 
 
96 
 
 And act in sueb. a reckless way no more. 
 
 But the next summer, to the future blind, 
 
 Intent to satisfy a roving mind, 
 
 With a young fav'rite dog and rifle gun, 
 
 In the far western wilds to have some fun, 
 
 He left one morning ere the break of day, 
 
 And on a steamboat bound for Iowa, 
 
 From Cincinnati to St. Louis went, 
 
 And all his money by this time was spent. 
 
 The Mississippi had become so low. 
 
 No steamboats travel'd where he wish'd to go, 
 
 So he resolved a homeward course to take, 
 
 And at an uncle's house a call to make, 
 
 In Indiana, near the state's confines, 
 
 Where the Wabash the broad Ohio joins, 
 
 And on a steamboat he procured employ. 
 
 Which to Mount Yernon brought the wand'ring boy- 
 
 He then proceeded to his uncle's house, 
 
 Where dwelt two sisters of my former spouse. 
 
 With whom Elias had acquainted been, 
 
 But neither of them for some years had seen. 
 
 His own dear mother, sister of the two, 
 
 Ten years gone by had bid the world adieu; 
 
 This was the first great stroke I had to bear, 
 
 Which deeply sunk my heart in grief and care; 
 
 A second loss my feelings briefly tried, 
 
 When a sweet little boy last winter died, 
 
 And now the third with greater force has come, 
 
97 
 
 A wife and two dear sons are in the tomb. 
 
 Wlien at his uncle's house he had arrived, 
 
 He wrote informing how he had contrived; 
 
 " That he was well and homeward would repair, 
 
 When he got money the expense to bear." 
 
 Though we were sorry that he went away, 
 
 And yet some longer from his home must stay. 
 
 It gave us pleasure in so bad a case, 
 
 To hear that he was at so good a place, 
 
 Where he could work and money might obtain, 
 
 To bring him to his father's house again ; 
 
 And so we rested with a hope once more 
 
 To see the lost returning to our door. 
 
 Two months then pass'd away before we learn' d 
 
 The cause why he no sooner had return'd, 
 
 And our conclusion came to this amount, 
 
 '' He soon would come and bring his own account, 
 
 That we should not be uninform'd so long, 
 
 If he were dead or any thing was wrong. 
 
 That now the sickly season was well past. 
 
 And the poor wand'rer would return at last." 
 
 Thus with delusive hopes and thoughts like these. 
 
 His anxious parents did their fancy please. 
 
 Until a letter from his uncle came. 
 
 Which brought sad news connected with his name, 
 
 That he had died almost a month before, 
 
 And by his kindred could be seen no more, 
 
 And to his sisters in the same with care, 
 
 9 
 
98 
 
 Was sent a lock of tbeir dead brother's hair, 
 Which they will long in dear memorial keep, 
 Of poor Elias for whose death they weep. 
 When first on opening it I saw the lock, 
 It gave my feelings a tremendous shock ; 
 Before I read a word I knew full well 
 What news the letter would be sure to tell. 
 The dark brown color of the lock of hair, 
 Told who it was that once the same did wear, 
 That it was sever'd from Elias's head, 
 And he was gone among the silent dead. 
 I read, and of the pain that fiU'd my heart, 
 No language can an idea impart; 
 He had been there in health a month or more, 
 And had but little sickness known before, 
 But having in that climate been exposed, 
 The flux and fever his existence closed. 
 He by his labor had some clothing earn'd, 
 Which he design'd to wear as he return'd, 
 But from the first attack, two weeks allow'd, 
 His lifeless corpse was in the fun'ral shroud. 
 
 When leaving home,"^ with pleasure in his aim, 
 To view the country and to look for game, 
 He thought in distant lands awhile to roam, 
 And in the fall review his native home, 
 
 *He left home the 20th of Seventh month, and wrote to us 
 from his wncle, under date of the 31st of the same month, 1842. 
 
99 
 
 To see the objects of his former care, 
 
 And witness scenes which might he passing there ; 
 
 And if well satisfied with Iowa, 
 
 To settle in that land some future day. 
 
 But having fail'd the country to explore, 
 
 His journey ended as described before. 
 
 To think of a poor youth so far from home, 
 
 With a strong wish but not the pow'r to come; 
 
 With painful recollections of the day, 
 
 When from his father's house he went astray. 
 
 The circumstances of the case combined. 
 
 Are calculated to affect the mind. 
 
 Much more than when at home or places nigh, 
 
 We see our friends and dear relations die; 
 
 Can soothe their pains or calm the troubled breast, 
 
 And feel assured of their eternal rest. 
 
 In health one may think lightly of his home. 
 
 But oh ! how dear, when pain and sickness come I 
 
 And this was realized by my poor son. 
 
 In the short race which he so swiftly run. 
 
 When taken sick, it seem'd his chief concern. 
 
 That he might soon be able to return 
 
 To see his dear relations face to face. 
 
 And little sister Caroline embrace ; 
 
 A lovely child, which often on his knee 
 
 Had laugh'd and chatter'd in the highest glee. 
 
 He own'd that he did wrong in leaving home 
 
 Without our knowledge, in the west to roam. 
 
100 
 
 Express'd his sorrow for the trifling way * 
 In which he did some thoughts to us convey ; 
 And such forgiveness wish'd from us to hear 
 As might his spirit in affliction cheer. 
 Had we been there it freely should have been 
 Dispensed to him in such a trying scene ; 
 Far better though, I hope, he had a friend, 
 Which could forgiveness to his soul extend, 
 And where he was, the kindness to him shown 
 Was such as we with gratitude could own. 
 
 The thought of home still in his mind arose 
 Until the day before the final close ; 
 He then was cheerful, and presumed to tell 
 His uncle that he felt "like getting well." 
 But on a false criterion he relied. 
 That night grew worse and in the morning died. 
 Thus ends his hope of pleasure in the chase, 
 And ours a son and brother to embrace. 
 Ear from his mother's grave, upon the shore 
 Where the Wabash and the Ohio roar, 
 Where the dark waters still their banks may lave, 
 And winter winds may howl above his grave. 
 In silent death he lies beneath the clay, 
 And soon in dust will be dissolved away. 
 
 * Some expressions which he considered too light and im- 
 pertinent, contained in the letter alluded to in the preceding 
 note, the only one he wrote after he left home. 
 
101 
 
 At sncTi a distance from his native Lome, 
 We liave no hope to ever see his tomb. 
 But while his body by the earth is press'd, 
 We humbly trust his soul is gone to rest ; 
 And though it is a cause of grief full sore, 
 That we can see him in this world no more, 
 Far better thus to end his mortal name. 
 Than live to an old age of sin and shame. 
 Exempt from lying and those actions mean, 
 Which might in many other lads be seen, 
 With the exception of his roving ways 
 His innocence was always to his praise. 
 
 Of the few monuments which we behold 
 Of his past labors, some are growing old, 
 And o'er the hills and in the woods around, 
 Where once was heard the barking of his honndj 
 Where crashing fell the trees he cut for coons 
 In the bright shining of autumnal moons, 
 Or, in long winter nights, when all was still 
 Except the dog that bark'd so loud and shrill, 
 No sound is heard but of the winds that roar ; 
 The dog is gone, Elias is no more ; 
 And prostrate on the ground the trees decay, 
 Sad emblems of his body in the clay. 
 
 Yet many things upon the farm appear, 
 
 Which show his works within the present year^, 
 
 Where through the fields of corn we daily go^ 
 
 Of his last plowing still the furrows show, 
 9* 
 
102 
 
 We see the stubble where be belp'd make hay, 
 The last he did before he went away. 
 And painful thoughts arise when we behold, 
 His recent works who now in death is cold. 
 The gaudy pea fowl which he coop'd and fed, 
 With plaintive v^oice reminds us of the dead. 
 Some little fruit trees still display his care 
 About the things he undertook to rear, 
 And near the meeting house, in order stand 
 Some aspen bushes, planted by his hand. 
 Which if they live, and to full size attain. 
 Will a memorial of his works remain, 
 Until each heart which now with grief o'erflows 
 Shall like his own in silent dust repose. 
 The faithful dog which still did him attend, 
 And in his travels was his constant friend, 
 Now lost and discontented, seems inclined 
 To search for one that he can never find. 
 And as we learn, has lately tried to leave 
 The place of his kind master's death and grave, 
 And if to bring him home a chance be found. 
 He shall return to the old hunting ground. 
 The dog may come, but now forever vain 
 To hope Elias will return again. 
 Though at his uncle's house his lot was hard, 
 His home relations claim' d his first regard. 
 And may his death a solemn warning prove 
 To such as may incline from home to rove, 
 
103 
 
 Lest far from friends they meet a harder fate, 
 And mourn their rashness when it is too late. 
 
 Farewell, Elias ! still thy name is dear, 
 And in remembrance we shall keep it here. 
 We trust that thou art gone to endless rest, 
 And may our loss to others' good be blest. 
 That where the story of thy life is read. 
 The living yet may profit by the dead. 
 May ev'ry youth, at home with plenty blest, 
 Still think his native residence the best, 
 And in obedience to his parent's will, 
 His filial duties with content fulfill. 
 'Till riper judgment, or advice of friends, 
 By useful changes may promote good ends. 
 That Grod may bless them, and no risk be run, 
 To end in pain what had been wrong begun ; 
 And that no ill-requited parent's cares. 
 Increase the sorrows which attend grey hairs. 
 
 EPITAPH. 
 
 Here young Elias Harvey lies, 
 Far from his native home. 
 
 And claims the tears of strangers' eyes, 
 Upon his humble tomb. 
 
 Beloved for innocence and truth, 
 Yet as a hunter brave, 
 
104 
 
 He left his father's house in youth, 
 And found a distant grave. 
 Eleventh month, 1842. 
 
 His Dog has returned^ hut he can come no more. 
 
 For poor Elias I have mourn' d, 
 
 And still my grief is sore, 
 His faithful dog has just return' d, 
 
 But HE can come no more. 
 
 To see his things at home again 
 
 Kenews the grief I bore, 
 When first I heard the mournful strain. 
 
 That "HE could come no more." 
 
 His eldest brother has been there, 
 
 And from that fatal shore. 
 His little stock of goods did bear, 
 
 But HE can come no more. 
 
 His clothes, his dog, and gun appear 
 
 Just as they did before, 
 But the young hunter is not here, 
 
 And can return no more. 
 
 His brother saw where he was laid,* 
 And shed his sorrows o'er 
 
 * In the Methodist burying ground, near the Wabash. 
 
105 
 
 The humble mansion of tlie dead 
 That can return no more. 
 
 But I am now advanced in years. 
 
 And never can explore. 
 The churchyard where his tomb appears 
 
 Who can return no more. 
 
 But here with many a sigh and tear 
 The loss may still deplore, 
 
 Of one that was and still is dear 
 But can be seen no more. 
 First month, 1843. 
 
 TO DANIEL WEBSTER, 
 
 3N HEARING THAT HE WOULD SOME TIME BESIGN HIS 
 PLACE IN TYLEH'S CABINET, BUT WISHED TO HOLD 
 ON A WHILE LONaER. 
 
 Oh ! Daniel, what canst thou be thinking about, 
 That thou art so strongly retaining thy place, 
 
 While Tyler is turning all honest men out, 
 
 And acting the traitor, to his country's disgrace. 
 
106 
 
 Defeating tlie liopes of a party so strong, 
 
 AYhich raised laim, witli Harrison, to office and power; 
 
 His treachery has proven our confidence wrong, 
 And all that we boasted was lost in an hour. 
 
 So basely returning the favor once shown, 
 
 Sy those who esteem'd him as one of their friends ; 
 
 To stick with him longer, from causes unknown, 
 To thine own dishonor and infamy tends. 
 
 Then leave the poor creature ! — our ruler by chance ; 
 
 Thou canst not accomplish thy purpose too soon. 
 And stand for the doctrine which thou didst advance 
 
 In a speech once deliver'd at Niblo's saloon. 
 
 Declaring for the honor of thy native land, 
 That "no such a principle we should embrace, 
 
 As in opposition to freedom w'ould stand, 
 
 Or strengthen the slavery of the African race." 
 
 Wliat then would become of that infamous claim 
 Which thou hast been urging in slavery's behalf. 
 
 While honest Americans are blushing for shame, 
 And nations around at our foolishness laugh. 
 
 The people of Britain have rather more sense, 
 Than ever to pay us the price of the slaves 
 
 Who, on board the Creole, arose in defense 
 Of all that inspired the American "braves." 
 
In all that is noble, or honest and fair, 
 Connected with a system professedly free. 
 
 Our na,tional interests should all have a share 
 Of req[uisite care and attention from theCo 
 
 Good men, of all parties, united will stand, 
 
 Before this generation passes awa}^, 
 Against the worst evil that curses our land, 
 
 And thou shouldst be equal with Cassius M. Clay, 
 
 Who boldly stood forth for Kentucky's best laws, 
 His own native state from dishonor to save ; 
 
 May heaven preserve him for the good of the cause. 
 And make him yet more a true friend of the slave. 
 
 I make no apology for speaking my mind. 
 While wishing no mortal on earth to offend ; 
 
 The path of true virtue I hope thou wilt find, 
 The way to true honor and glory in the end. 
 
108 
 
 EEMARKS ON THE SUBJECT OF SLAYEEY, 
 
 ADDRESSED TO SUCH AS THINK THE QUESTION OE ITS 
 ABOLITION SHOULD NOT BE AGITATED BECAUSE IT 
 PRODUCES EXCITEMENT. 
 
 Next to religion and its sacred claim 
 To veneration from its author's name. 
 The anti-slavery cause may he defined, 
 The best and greatest that excites mankind; 
 And slavery to the human race a foe^ 
 By whose influence other evils grow : 
 Intemp 'ranee, gambling, dueling, and all 
 That lust can make upon its victims fall, 
 Imbruting men who have immortal souls, 
 While the oppressor in his pleasure rolls. 
 What wicknedness in that dark region reigns 
 Where slavery holds its millions fast in chainSj, 
 Where lordly whites with eolor'd concubines, 
 Sustain a splendor which but dimly shines, 
 And labor to support a sinking cause, 
 By gags, and lynchings, whips, and cruel laws •— 
 Where shrieks of bleeding bondmen rend the air,, 
 And for their suff 'rings few appear to care ! 
 What blood and treasure were in Florida, 
 To please slaveholders basely thrown away ; 
 Near forty millions from our coffers dram'd, 
 Have but in part their sordid claims sustain'd- 
 
109 
 
 The wretched Seminoles can witness hear, 
 
 Of the hloocl hounds that prowl'd for slavery there, 
 
 From Cuba brought and set upon the chase, 
 
 To crush the remnant of an injured race. 
 
 Who from true hospitality could dare 
 
 To let some negroes fiiid protection there. 
 
 A cause that would remove a curse so dire, 
 Should all good men with confidence inspire ; 
 But the excitement is sometimes so high 
 That some regard it with a jealous eye, 
 And think an anti-slavery man is one 
 Whose reckless principles we ought to shun. 
 Though some are wrong who advocate its claims^ 
 And in their lectures use offensive names ; 
 Though some espouse it from mere selfish ends, 
 And infidels be found among its friends, 
 Who more in censure of the churches deal, 
 Than with the wrongs of slaves that christians fee 
 The cause is good, and has from truth a force 
 That will direct it in the safest course, 
 And will, we trust, yet regulate the ways 
 Of all whose actions bring the cause no praise * 
 Among its friends and its excited foes, 
 For truth will triumph where discussion goes, 
 
 *The errors above named, with which some abolitionists 
 are charged, are mentioned by me more with a hope that they 
 may be corrected where they exist, than for any other reason. 
 
 10 
 
110 
 
 And wlien it tLrougli tlie churclies shall prevail, 
 
 The canting strains of infidels will fail, 
 
 And upright christians more the ranks adorn. 
 
 In this great cause of millions yet unborn. 
 
 It must advance, and still in strength will grow, 
 
 'Till slavery meets its final overthrow. 
 
 And o'er the world as in the Indies now, 
 
 At freedom's altar every knee shall bow. 
 
 A cause which in its blessings would embrace 
 So many millions of the human race : 
 Which has from heaven received propitious smiles, 
 And banish'd slavery from the British isles. 
 Demands the firm support of every man 
 Whose sense of justice comprehends the plan 
 Whereby the boon of freedom was obtain'd, 
 In lands where slavery had so long remain 'd. 
 No scheme devised in man's own selfish will 
 Of such a cause can the design fulfill, 
 To end by fair and peaceful means alone, 
 The foulest source of evil ever known. 
 No anti- christian means can ever bring 
 The healing waters from th' Eternal Spring; 
 But if religious feeling can control, 
 And of the movement be the life and soul. 
 The body may in part be form'd of those 
 Whose human hearts can feel for others' woes, 
 Who from an impulse the Creator gave. 
 Could soothe the anguish of the bleeding slave. 
 
Ill 
 
 Or like tlie good Samaritan, would try, 
 
 When both the " Priest and Levite pass'd him by." 
 
 The diff'rent churches in their proper spheres 
 Should pour the truth in the slaveholders' ears, 
 And foremost to support a righteous cause, 
 Stand forth for " human rights," and "ec^ual laws," 
 Which soon will follow in a peaceful train. 
 When truth and justice the ascendant gain. 
 That Heav'n may aid the cause, let christians pray, 
 And ail may help to do the sin away. 
 
 If free discussion must excitement raise. 
 Let those who fear it stand aloof and gaze ; 
 It must go on, as easy to restrain 
 As the strong surges of the stormy main ; 
 As much defying mortal man's control, 
 As the proud waves that o'er the ocean roll. 
 
 Why of excitement should we have such dread, 
 If it can cause good principles to spread ? 
 Should Heav'n from Nature's plan the thunder spare. 
 And lightning never purify the air. 
 Or should the winds suspend their stormy breath, 
 All human life woiild soon be lost in death. 
 When noxious vapors with the air combine, 
 Some agitation must the same refine ; 
 And all its poison particles destroy, 
 That those who breathe it may good health enjoy, 
 In morals thus, and in religion so, 
 A calm or torpor makes an evil grow, 
 
112 
 
 Some agitation then must operate, 
 To cure an evil in a chnrcli or state^ 
 And by tlie stimulus wliicli it imparts^ 
 Arouse to healthful action torpid hearts. 
 If good he offer'd and the bad oppose, 
 Must the reformers here their labors close. 
 
 No evil custom ever was assail' d, 
 But that excitement in some way prevail'd; 
 No reformation e'er on earth was wrought, 
 But agitation to its aid was brought ; 
 And grand results have still the labors crown'^. 
 Of all who firmly stood on christian ground. 
 If christians in this cause must silent stand. 
 Because mobocracy is in the land, 
 Or a plain duty in the church neglect. 
 Because they fear "revivals will be check'd; " 
 Why did th' Apostles in those evil days, 
 Among the heathen an excitement raise. 
 Lest great Diana should be brought so low, 
 No gain from her would to the craftsmen flow ; 
 Why did the early Friends adopt a course, 
 Which roused the mobocrats to open force ? 
 The priests were fearful they would lose their gain^ 
 And set the lawless mob to work in vain ; 
 Their institutions in such danger were, 
 That laws were pass'd to foster them with care ; 
 But Friends had faith that G-od was on their side^ 
 Though some were hung and some in prison died, 
 
113 
 
 They still proclaim'd the truth and for it stood, 
 Unawed b j threats, by violence, and blood ; 
 Or why did Wesley still maintain his ground, 
 When opposition to his course he found? 
 Of slavery thus his definition run, 
 "' The vilest sin that ever saw the sun." 
 How then can those who in his creed believe, 
 Slaveholders into fellowship receive. 
 And ministers and members still retain, 
 Who by oppression make unrighteous gain. 
 
 We hear some say that " slavery is a curse, 
 But the excitement only makes it worse : 
 Adds to the wrongs, and aggravates the woe, 
 Which the poor slave is doom'd to undergo ; 
 That a mild system has more cruel grown, 
 And would have ended sooner, let alone." 
 This doctrine sprung from a polluted source. 
 And with the best inform'd has lost its force; 
 Things are no worse upon a general scale, 
 Than when .no agitation did prevail, 
 Upon the whole the prospect is more clear, 
 And light increasing shines through darkness here; 
 While a mild radiance gleaming from afar, 
 Directs our vision to the eastern star,* 
 Which brightly shines on the West Indian Isles, 
 Where slavery has gone down and freedom smiles, 
 
 * British emancipation. 
 
114 
 
 The glad precursor of a joyful morn, 
 
 To our poor bondmen and their race unborn ; 
 
 When freedom's sun shall in its splendor rise. 
 
 Dispel the darkness from our southern skies. 
 
 And over this and every other land 
 
 Her broad, resplendent wing of light expand. 
 
 Why did not Moses cease in freedom's cause. 
 When Pharoah strengthen'd his oppressive laws I 
 Increasing tasks that were too hard before^ 
 'Till God his judgments did on Egypt pour. 
 And out of cruel bondage in that land, 
 Brought Israel's children with a mighty hand^ 
 And over Pharoah "'triumph'd gloriously, 
 The horse and rider drowning in the sea." 
 And equal judgments on this land must fall. 
 If we much longer should the blacks inthralL 
 If slavery cannot end by peaceful means^ 
 'T will be a harbinger of bloody scenes, 
 By cruel laws the slave is robb'd of all^ 
 And righteous laws can make the system fall^. 
 Let this be done, a " sinking land to save," 
 And war and blood will never aid the slave. 
 
 We ask no harsher weapon on our part. 
 Than that the truth may reach th' oppressor's hearty, 
 That in the day of mercy he may bow, 
 And shun the judgments that await him now. 
 As friends of slaves and their oppressors too, t 
 
 We wish no more than what is right to do ; 
 
115 
 
 And if against us mobs tlieir weapons raise, 
 Are we to blame, or tliey to merit praise ? 
 Witb honest wishes for our country's good, 
 We hope to stand as in the cause we should, 
 Opposing slavery in a peaceful way, 
 Until it ceases, or we rest in clay. 
 
 I now conclude with a few hints to those 
 Who make profession slavery to oppose, 
 But think " we ought to stand for Henry Clay, 
 For he could help to do the sin away, 
 His talents and influence are so great, 
 That in the nation they would have some weight." 
 If abolitionists their duty miss, 
 Is there no inconsistency in this ? 
 Let those who voted for John Tyler say 
 How much they yet have gain'd or hope they may^ 
 And never vote again for one who can 
 Support a claim of property in man. 
 Let such as have no principles at all. 
 Vote as they please, and by it stand or fall, 
 But those who would consistency approve, 
 Should not one inch from this position move ; 
 And if no one is named that we can trust, 
 Let all alone and to ourselves be just. 
 May God in mercy haste the happy day, 
 When all oppression shall be done away. 
 That "Ethiopia may stretch out her hands," 
 When freedom's light shall shine upon all lands, 
 
116 
 
 And Afric's children LasMng in its rays, 
 Send up to heaven tlieir joyful song of praise 
 For tlieir deliv'rance and the wonders wrought, 
 Which have an end to their aiSictions brought ; 
 And from imbruted beings rise to know 
 The benefits which from the gospel flow. 
 1843. 
 
 SPEING AND HEE FLOWERS. 
 
 'T IS now a season of the year 
 Most charming to the sight, 
 
 While the sweet melody we hear . 
 Grives every ear delight. 
 
 But while some save their rhyming powers 
 For " the sweet scented rose," 
 
 And other gay and fruitless flowers 
 So grateful to the nose ; 
 
 Give me the blossoms on the trees, 
 Whose crops of fruit next fall. 
 
 May sight and smell and palate please, 
 And cheer the hearts of all. 
 
117 
 
 The fields now clad in robes of green 
 
 My fancy better suit, 
 Than all the flowrets I have seen 
 
 Which fade and leave no fruit. 
 
 And ,yet I love the simplest flower 
 
 That rises from the sod, 
 For all display the matchless power 
 
 Of their creator, God. 
 
 The same Almighty hand that decks 
 
 " The lilies of the field, " 
 And gives the flowers their tints and specks 
 And the perfume they yield, • 
 
 Is that which has such blessings shed 
 
 Upon our fertile plains, 
 And crown' d our harvests with the bread 
 
 Which still our life sustains. 
 
 His pow'r and goodness still pervade 
 The heavens, the earth, and air, 
 
 And all the things which He has made 
 Omnipotence declare. 
 
 1844. 
 
118 
 
 TO CALYIN WASSON. 
 Dear Friend : 
 
 With tlie exception of tbe night, 
 
 I have but little time, 
 A letter to a friend to write. 
 
 In either prose or rhyme. 
 
 But as the subject I revolved, 
 
 Which thy plain hint embraced, 
 
 I on this evening have resolved. 
 To write a sketch in haste. 
 
 And first, it may be right to tell, 
 
 Before I further go. 
 That we are all at present well. 
 
 And hope you may be so. 
 
 Our friends in gen'ral through these parts. 
 
 Their usual health enjoy, 
 And most of them with cheerful hearts, 
 
 Their hands at work employ. 
 
 And what a blessing is good health. 
 
 With competency shared ! 
 No luxury or worldly wealth 
 
 Can be with it compared. 
 
119 
 
 Witliout good liealtli no earthly things 
 
 Can be so well enjoy' d, 
 And riches oft have taken wings, 
 
 Where health has been destroy' d. 
 
 The weather now is warm and dry. 
 
 The birds begin to sing, 
 And all presented to the eye. 
 
 Betokens coming Spring. 
 
 My work has been for some few days 
 
 Among the sugar trees ; 
 But there my eye no scene surveys. 
 
 That can my fancy please. 
 
 It o'er my feelings brings a damp. 
 
 And starts a tender tear. 
 To think Elias at the camp. 
 
 Can never more appear. 
 
 I saw a name, cut by his hands. 
 
 Upon an aged tree. 
 Which as a brief memorial stands. 
 
 Of one I cannot see. 
 
 Two years ago, upon the ground 
 Which I to-day pass'd o'er, 
 
 He work'd and still his works are found. 
 But he is now no more. 
 
120 
 
 But I intended to be brief, 
 
 And must tliis subject leave, 
 
 Nor wisb. to dwell on themes of grief, 
 That can no pleasure give. 
 
 Thy recent visit at our home, 
 
 Was pleasant to us all. 
 And we still hope the time may come, 
 
 When thou again wilt call. 
 
 It always to our pleasure tends, 
 And seems to cheer our lot. 
 
 When we reflect that by our friends 
 We have not been forgot. 
 
 Though thy appointments in these parts 
 
 Are for the present o'er, 
 And some remain with their vain hearts, 
 
 No better than before. 
 
 Thy friends with thee have sympathized, 
 Where'er thy lot was cast, 
 
 And good we trust was realized, 
 
 Which long with some may last. 
 
 The servant of a Master, meek. 
 
 Can here no merit claim, 
 But must the praise and honor seek, 
 
 Of his Employer's name. 
 
121 
 
 And thougli the work is often hard, 
 Which thou art bound to bear, 
 
 We hope true peace is thy reward, 
 Through Grod's peculiar care. 
 
 And that of the good things of life. 
 Thy portion may be blest, 
 
 And in the church no party strife. 
 Disturb thy peace and rest. 
 
 But while the breaches we survey, 
 Which mar our Zion's walls, 
 
 It to the faithful seems a day, 
 Which for exertion calls. 
 
 While some are making breaches wide^ 
 Some will not help repair, 
 
 And those upon the builder's side, 
 Have harder tasks to bear. 
 
 A harvest of eternal good. 
 
 Is whitening in the field. 
 But to the idle will no food, 
 
 Of life immortal yield. 
 
 And some who long had borne the heat 
 
 And burden of the day. 
 Have left their place for a retreat, 
 
 Where many are at play. 
 
122 
 
 But still tliej make profession strong, 
 
 Of doing greater good, 
 By party action with the throng, 
 
 Than while with us they stood. 
 
 And of the faithful who remain' d, 
 
 James Hadley is no more ; 
 The church has thus a loss sustain'd, 
 
 Which m^ny may deplore. 
 
 But why should things at home be wrong, 
 While prospects brighten round, 
 
 And light is shining now, wher<3 long 
 The darkness was profound. 
 
 In regions of the earth remote. 
 
 Where Pagan idols stood, 
 The christian may with pleasure note. 
 
 The gospel has done good. 
 
 Where Daniel Wheeler's travels lay 
 Through seas beyond the line, 
 
 Among the Islands far away 
 The light begins to shine. 
 
 The gospel freely in those parts 
 
 Was preach'd at Christ's command 
 
 And fell upon the people's hearts 
 Like show'rs upon the land. 
 
123 
 
 The bey of Tunis from the slaves 
 
 In his dominions all, 
 A place of many captive's graves, 
 
 Has made the schackles fall. 
 
 And in the East and "Western Isles, 
 Which own Great Britain's sway, 
 
 Slavery no more the land defiles, 
 But now is done away. 
 
 And in our own dark southern states. 
 Where slavery long has reign'd, 
 
 Philanthropy anticipates 
 
 A triumph will be gain'd. 
 
 There seems to be a march of mind 
 Which under Heav'n's control 
 
 Is for the future good design'd 
 Of many a human soul. 
 
 And though defection may prevail, 
 
 And evil may abound, 
 The faith of those should never fail 
 
 Who stand upon good ground. 
 
 The principles which Friends maintain, 
 Though some but hold the form, 
 
 Must to the end of time remain, 
 Unmoved by ev'ry storm. 
 
124 
 
 And may tlie power of grace divine 
 More standard bearers raise, 
 
 Tliat our society may sliine 
 As in her pristine days. 
 
 That onr good fruits to others shown 
 May Grod's free grace proclaim, 
 
 And many bring his power to own, 
 And glorify his name. 
 
 That slavery, dueling, and war, 
 
 And other evils all. 
 Which now the peace of nations mar^ 
 
 Before the truth may fall. 
 
 And that the day may come to birth, 
 
 As saving light extends, 
 When righteousness shall fill the earth 
 
 To its remotest ends. 
 
 But for a better time than now 
 
 We still may look in vain, 
 Until more souls to him shall bow 
 
 Whose right it is to reign. 
 
 Each workman wrought near his own house, 
 
 Upon Jerus'lem's walls, 
 
 And thus the cause that we espouse 
 
 On each for action calls. 
 1844. 
 
125 
 ON THE DEATH OF ABI HARYEY, 
 
 INFANT DAUGHTER OF THE AUTHOR. 
 
 Our little Abi, lovely child ! 
 
 Is cold in death's embrace, 
 As sweet a babe as ever smiled, 
 
 Among the human race. 
 
 For half a year among the rest, 
 
 It ran abont the yard, 
 And more than infant sense possess'd, 
 
 To merit our regard. 
 
 It's speech was plain for one so young. 
 
 It's looks and actions gay; 
 But now it's little prattling tongue. 
 
 Is silent in the clay. 
 
 With rich, brown hair six inches long^ 
 
 And well-set teeth before, 
 For no dear child a love more strong, 
 
 It's parents ever bore. 
 
 But heaven took the pledge of love, 
 
 Which once to us it gave, 
 It's soul is gone to rest above. 
 
 It's body in the grave. 
 
126 
 
 For tliongli to silent dust consign' d, 
 With all its pleasing cLarms, 
 
 The blessed Saviour of mankind, 
 Received it in his arms. 
 
 It was a lovely creature while 
 It drew the vital breath, 
 
 And on it's face a settled smile, 
 Illumed the shades of death. 
 
 Rest then, sweet little happy soul, 
 Beyond the silent tomb, 
 
 And while eternal ages roll. 
 In brighter beauty bloom. 
 
 1844. 
 
 TO ZILPHA HILL AND HER CHILDREN, 
 on the death of jonathan and calvin hill. 
 
 Dear Friends: 
 
 To you a stranger, but to grief not so, 
 My heart has learn' d to feel for others woe. 
 And sympathize with sorrows such as fill, 
 The deeply- wounded heart of Zilpha Hill, 
 
127 
 
 For a dear Lnsband and beloved son, 
 With all tlie scenes of earth forever done ; 
 And with the pious tears her children shed, 
 For a dear father and a brother dead; 
 So near each other taken out of time, 
 One middle aged, and one in youthful prime. 
 'Tis not my object in your minds to raise 
 Keflections on the scenes of former days, 
 Or make a sad display of the contrast, 
 Between your present grief and pleasures past; 
 But to express, in the few lines I send, 
 The feelings of a sympathizing friend. 
 And if I could I gladly would impart, 
 The balm of comfort to each wounded heart ; 
 But heav'n alone this blessing can bestow — 
 An antidote of every human woe. 
 Of deep, heart-rending sorrow few alive, 
 Have known much more than I at forty-five, 
 And all the causes of my grief and tears. 
 Have happened in the course of thirteen years; 
 A loving wife, one evening on her feet, 
 And the next morning in the winding sheet ; 
 A roving son, four hundred miles away, 
 By hands of strangers cover' d in the clay ; 
 And two sweet, smiling babes as heav'n e'er gave, 
 A son and daughter in the silent grave. 
 Have furnish' d me with themes of sorrow sore. 
 For dear ones gone that could return no more, 
 
128 
 
 And the same heart which, has so often hled^ 
 
 Can join with yon in sorrow for the dead. 
 
 The two that were yonr strongest earthly stay^ 
 
 By death's relentless pow'r are torn away, 
 
 And on the farm where they had toil'd for years, 
 
 How solitary every thing appears, 
 
 While from the social circle round the fire, 
 
 You mourn the ahsence of the son and sire. 
 
 The orphan's tears, the lonely widow's moan,, 
 
 I see and hear as sorrows of my own, 
 
 And hope the blessings of Almighty pow'r, 
 
 May he your solace in each trying hour. 
 
 Afflictions of this kind befall the best. 
 
 And this vain world is not our place of rest; 
 
 In the best earthly things we vainly trust, 
 
 And human hopes are written in the dust, 
 
 And oh ! how little joy the world e'er gave. 
 
 To those whose hopes were blasted in the grave. 
 
 But when the hand of death has dealt the blow,. 
 
 "Which lays some object of affection low — 
 
 A dear companion, or a favorite son, 
 
 The blooming maid, or little smiling one — 
 
 Those pearly drops which mingle with our grief. 
 
 From nature's efforts to obtain relief, 
 
 Are no offense to Him whose ways are just^ 
 
 If in his goodness we repose our trust. 
 
 And at his righteous rod do not repine, 
 
 Who still afflicts us for some wise design. 
 
129 
 
 Perbaps the objects of our love to save, 
 
 From futiire ill in peace beyond the grave, 
 
 And in submission we should ever stand, 
 
 To all the turnings of His mighty hand. 
 
 Who from affliction can the mourners raise, 
 
 And put into their mouths a song of praise. 
 
 Though now of 'earthly help you seem bereft, 
 
 An-d almost comfortless in mourning left. 
 
 There is still One on whom you may depend, 
 
 The orphan's Father and the widow's Friend, 
 
 Who still can make a way where none appears. 
 
 For your safe journey through this vale of tears. 
 
 And He who "hath our grief and sorrows borne'' 
 
 Is able still "to comfort all that mourn; " 
 
 To guard from evil to our latest breath, 
 
 And lead us safely through the shades of death. 
 
 Then may such comfort ever be your lot, 
 
 Though "the departed" cannot be forgot, 
 
 And while their living virtues you revere, 
 
 Let the reflection still your spirits cheer, 
 
 That they are gone among the truly blest, 
 
 And you may meet them in eternal rest. 
 
 And though, while here, to grief you give some scope. 
 
 You " sorrow not as those that have no hope." 
 
 I had proposed to end my letter here, 
 And of the subject hoped I might be clear. 
 But feel my mind to the dear children drawn, 
 Whose worthy father is deceased and gone ; 
 
130 
 
 While of the lovely band lie left behind. 
 
 Each one possesses an immortal mind, 
 
 To be prepared by its probation here. 
 
 To shine forever in a brighter sphere, 
 
 And to this happy state if we attain, 
 
 The selfish will must on the cross be slain ; 
 
 And children should begin in early days ' 
 
 To walk in virtue's safe and pleasant ways, 
 
 And much upon the parent's care depends. 
 
 And much on children in their choice of friends. 
 
 I've known of cases where the father died, 
 
 And though her best the tender mother tried 
 
 To keep them in a course of doing well, 
 
 The children would against her word rebel, 
 
 And into evil company have run. 
 
 And learn' d such things as all good children shun : 
 
 To frolic, dance, get drunk, blackguard, and sweaij 
 
 And cause the widow's heart more grief to bear. 
 
 But in your case let no such things be true, 
 
 Or ever said of any one of you. 
 
 Your mother has a harder task to bear " 
 
 Since you have lost your faithful father's care. 
 
 And you must do whatever she commands. 
 
 To make the burden lighter on her hands ; 
 
 She will not be requiring more of you, 
 
 Than you, if willing, have the pow'r to do. 
 
 And if you yield your hearts to grace divine, 
 
 You may in every christian virtue shine, 
 
131 
 
 And walking in the path the good have trod, 
 Live happy here, and die in peace with Grod. 
 Farewell ! and may the Lord in mercy still 
 Preserve you in obedience to his will. 
 1845. 
 
 , TO AN ANCIENT OAK. 
 
 Thou aged, venerable oak, 
 
 Of strength an emblem still. 
 As yet unscath'd by any stroke, 
 
 Thou standest on the hill. 
 
 While time has wasted many forms, 
 
 And naught of them appears, 
 Thou hast withstood the frosts and storms. 
 
 Of some two hundred years. 
 
 Thy look was ancient at the time 
 
 When first I saw thee here, 
 And I was then in manhood's prime. 
 
 About my thirtieth year. 
 
 But since that day my flesh has sunk, 
 
 My vigor has decay'd, p 
 
 While the same years upon thy trunk, 
 Have no impression made. 
 
132 
 
 And as our prospects now appear, 
 
 If winds no stronger blow, 
 Thou wilt be firmly standing liere, 
 
 When death has laid me low. 
 
 But thou at length with thund'ring sound, 
 
 Attended by no pain, 
 Shall fall and rot upon the ground, 
 
 No more to rise again. 
 
 Not so with man — in pain he dies. 
 
 And from the world must go. 
 To blissful mansions in the skies, 
 
 Or realms of endless woe. 
 1845, 
 
 TO JEHU PYLE, Sen. 
 Dear Friend: 
 
 It brings a pleasure to my mind^ 
 Which cannot be express' d. 
 
 To hear that thou hast been inclined 
 To seek eternal rest. 
 
 That one whose youth and prime of days' 
 Had been in evil spent, 
 
133 
 
 Should in old age, tbroiigli saving grace, 
 Be favor' d to repent. 
 
 The ransom paid on Calvary Monnt, 
 
 In the Redeemer's blood, 
 I hope has cancel' d the account, 
 
 Which once against thee stood. 
 
 And that the same redeeming grace, 
 Which first awaken' d thee, 
 
 May make the evening of thy days, 
 From clouds and darkness free. 
 
 And give thee to commemorate, 
 The boundless love of God, 
 
 Upon us in this fallen state. 
 
 Through Jesus Christ, bestow'd. 
 
 That matchless love and mercy free, 
 
 To every sinner's soul. 
 Who humbly bows the heart and knee, 
 
 To the divine control. 
 
 Though " our transgressions as a cloud" 
 
 May often hide His face. 
 From thee no more may darkness shroud, 
 Thy Saviour's dwelling place. 
 12 
 
134 
 
 Be steadfast then, my ag^d friend, 
 The strife will soon be o'er, 
 
 " He that endureth to the end," 
 Is safe forever more. 
 
 My strength is failing, and my cares 
 Seem to increase with years, 
 
 And of our friends we need the prayers, 
 "While in this vale of tears. 
 
 Farewell ! and may the arm divine, 
 Which has sustain'd thee long, 
 
 Support thee still, and peace he thine, 
 With an immortal song. 
 1845. 
 
 DEFENSE OF POETRY. 
 
 My gentle muse, though weak, I love thee still, 
 For thou hast often breathed upon my quill, 
 And in my journey through this vale of tears, 
 Been my companion more than twenty years. 
 And through full many a dark and troubled day 
 Hast help'd to while my hours of grief away. 
 Assist me then, while I, in simple rhj^me, 
 Maintain that writing verse is not a crime, 
 
135 
 
 If to our other duties we attend, 
 
 And naught unchaste is by the writer penn'd. 
 
 Upon what grov'ling blockheads say or think, 
 
 It cannot be worth while to waste my ink ; 
 
 But when some sober men who claim good sense, 
 
 Find fault with verse, and with its use dispense, 
 
 Asserting that it rises from the brain, 
 
 And only tends to make the writer vain, 
 
 'T is time for a poor scribbler like myself 
 
 To see if nothing wrong lies on the shelf. 
 
 Opinions differ on important things, 
 
 And prejudice from education springs, 
 
 Or from the want of it, among mankind, 
 
 While low pursuits too much absorb the mind. 
 
 Upon some subjects a conceited pride 
 
 Makes one more wise than all the world beside. 
 
 While a false notion rests with not a few, 
 
 That naught is right except what they can do, 
 
 " That common prose is better understood, 
 
 And writing poetry can do no good; " 
 
 Philosophy and grammar make them sick, 
 
 "And all is wrong beyond arithmetic." 
 
 But a " diversity of gifts " confess' d. 
 
 Should be the principle on which we rest, 
 
 Or rather act, in making up our mind. 
 
 Upon the part which heaven to each assign'd ; 
 
 On some than others better talents fall, 
 
 To be exerted for the good of all, 
 
136 
 
 And the abuse of any talent given, 
 
 Is man's own fault, and an offense to heaven. 
 
 The poet's art howe'er it's worth we scan, 
 Is, like all other gifts of Grod to man. 
 For good design' d, though often badly used, 
 Yet not condemn'd because it is abused, 
 For He who gave sweet music to the birds 
 Gave to mankind a harmony of words. 
 Whereby our thoughts in even numbers roll, 
 From the affections of the human soul : 
 And in a more impressive style impart 
 The writer's feelings to the reader's heart ; 
 And when the mind is ruled by virtue's laws, 
 Poetic talents may promote her cause. 
 
 Although a poet may have pow'r to charm, 
 And if immoral may be cause of harm, 
 Do we suppose that Byron and poor Burns, 
 Were worse for having such poetic turns ? 
 Resplendent talents in each soul combined, 
 Displayed the genius of a powerful mind. 
 And yet almost one half each author wrote 
 Deserves our censure more than public note; 
 And with the trashy works of Walter Scott, 
 Should be expunged and by the world forgot ; 
 Their foolish novels, blackguard songs, and plays, 
 Possess no merit and deserve no praise, 
 And yet for this should we their genius blame ? 
 On its perversion rests the sin and shame ; 
 
137 
 
 And on tlie customs and prevailing taste, 
 Which thus influenced them their time to waste, 
 For each, when writing his own thoughts, confess' ( 
 The way of virtue and the truth the best. 
 Although some poets chant in martial lays. 
 The victor's honors and the hero's praise. 
 Though bacchanalians sing in dogg'rel rhyme, 
 And bards themselves have fallen into crime, 
 The muses in their native state abhor 
 Intemp'rance, slavery, cruelty and war, 
 And e'en through darkness oft so brightly shine, 
 That we confess their origin divine. 
 In all my reading; I have never read, 
 Of any poet who for slavery plead. 
 And of the worst in folly's path who trod, 
 I know of none who said, " There is no God.'^ 
 Those latent virtues with the muses join'd, 
 Still brought a Deity before the mind, 
 And from a native tenderness of heart. 
 Of which they all appear'd to have a part. 
 The wildest bards their sober thoughts to tell, 
 Placed deeds of carnage with the works of helL 
 We find the worst lamenting their own state, 
 And some repenting when it seem'd to late, 
 But still confessing the main truths which bind, 
 The dilF'rent christian sects among mankind; 
 The common proneness of the world to sin, 
 12* 
 
138 « 
 
 Caused them like others to be taken in, 
 And o'er their faults should cast as broad a veil, 
 As thousands claim who in their duty fail. 
 Good men in these as well as other days, 
 Have told their feelings in poetic lays, 
 And with devotion kindled from above, 
 Portray'd the wonders of redeeming love; 
 And yet some think, " to write in verse is wrong, 
 " Because it may be turn'd into a song," 
 And thus condemn all measured verse and rhyme, 
 From " Homer's work's' to " Pollock's Course of Time." 
 To cure such persons of these foolish qualms, 
 Let them but ask the author of the psalms, 
 Why he presumed in such poetic lays. 
 To sing his troubles and his Maker's praise. 
 And let him once for their instruction tell, 
 That heav'n inspired his songs for Israel. 
 With a small want of accent, and the chime, 
 Which constitute our common verse and rhyme, 
 " The book of Job," almost throughout, contains 
 A sweet succession of poetic strains ; 
 While in Isaiah's writings we admire 
 The emanations of poetic fire, 
 And Jeremiah's Lamentations flow. 
 In plaintive numbers through the notes of woe. 
 These ancient writers with their feelings raised 
 To a poetic pitch their Maker praised, 
 
• 139 
 
 Or on Him for His saving mercy call, 
 
 And His regard for Zion's broken wall, 
 
 And when their harps were "on the willows hung," 
 
 "The songs of Zion" were no longer sung; 
 
 Until at length in Nehemiah's days, 
 
 "The sons of Asaph" did their voices raise. 
 
 And sang again on Zion's sacred hill, 
 
 The emanations of poetic skill. 
 
 And may we not those modern works admire, 
 
 Which blend true virtue with poetic fire — 
 
 Of Milton, Cowper, Parnell, Gray, and Young, 
 
 And many more who once in England sung? 
 
 What prose or preaching in the present day. 
 
 Is better than the Elegy of Gray ? 
 
 But these great poets of exalted sense. 
 From me ask nothing in this weak defense. 
 Their noble art shall flourish and prevail, 
 When bigots in their opposition fail ; 
 When bacchanals and slavery shall be o'er, 
 And nations learn the art of war no more. 
 
140 
 
 REFLECTIONS 
 
 ON SEEING THE SOLITARY GRATE OE A CHILD, AT THE 
 SIDE OE A FIELD ADJOINING MY EARM. 
 
 Thou little solitary grave ! 
 
 . Of one that lived and died, 
 Whose death to parents sorrow gave, 
 And children's feelings tried. 
 
 Why is thy little tenant left, 
 
 Within it's lonely bed. 
 Of all the tender care bereft. 
 
 Which still is due the dead. 
 
 That have relations living near. 
 
 Who once for them could care, 
 A brother or a sister dear, 
 
 Though small, lies buried there. 
 
 yes ! to some it once was dear, , 
 
 When in it's early bloom, 
 But now no relative comes near, 
 
 To weep upon it's tomb. 
 
 Some twenty years have pass'd away^ 
 
 Perhaps it may be more, 
 Since it's poor little lifeless clay. 
 
 In earth was cover' d o'er. 
 
« 141 
 
 Ten years ago, some rotten rails 
 
 Were round its humble grave, 
 But now this slight protection fails, 
 v'From injury to save. 
 
 No rising mound of earth is seen, 
 It's resting place to show. 
 
 But grass and weeds, each season, green 
 Above it's body grow. 
 
 But for one stone yet standing there. 
 Which I have oft survey' d, 
 
 No one could tell correctly where 
 The smiling child was laid. 
 
 For once it smiled and toddled round, 
 And was by friends caress'd, 
 
 Now low and cold beneath the ground, 
 The clods lie on it's breast. 
 
 Some beechen trees upon one side ' 
 Their spreading branches wave, 
 
 And the tall oak, the forest's pride, 
 Is nodding o'er it's grave. 
 
 But earthly things are prone to change, 
 And all our eyes survey, 
 ''^Or over which our thoughts may range, 
 Is doom'd to pass away. 
 
142 # 
 
 Tlie earth may run her annual round. 
 
 And every spring restore, 
 The rich productions of the ground, 
 
 'Till time shall be no more. 41^ 
 
 Yet man is wretched from his hirth. 
 
 His flesh but as the grass, 
 While millions molder in the earth, 
 
 Rude plows o'er thousands pass» 
 
 And e'en the loved ones I have lost, 
 
 Among the silent dead, 
 May have their graves by plowshares crossed, 
 
 While horses o'er them tread. 
 
 Why not o'er them, as well as one 
 Who long for truth was brave ? 
 
 The ruthless plowshare has been run 
 O'er Warner Mifflin's grave ! 
 
 No one alive can find the spot 
 
 Where this good man was laid ; 
 
 Yet he will never be forgot, 
 For what his life display'd. 
 
 But where are all the mighty now, 
 
 And ail that beauty gave ? 
 To death, they all were doom'd to bow^ 
 
 And molder in the grave. 
 
143 
 
 This little cliild was happier far, 
 
 Than thousands of the great, 
 Who pass'd through scenes of "glorious war," 
 
 And were entomb'd in state. 
 
 The celebrated Spartan Queen, 
 
 Who caused the fall of Troy, 
 With all her charms, no more is seen 
 
 Proud armies to employ. 
 
 The beautiful Cleopatra, 
 
 Who set the world in arms, * 
 Fell to her pride and grief a prey, 
 
 With all her pleasing charms. 
 
 Octavius Csesar overcame 
 
 The chief that she adored, 
 And he, to hide his future shame. 
 
 Had fallen on his sword. 
 
 And while a shower of tears she shed 
 
 Upon her lover's tomb, 
 She meditated the dark deed 
 
 That seal'd her hapless doom. 
 
 * Rome, about this time, had become mistress of the world 
 and Octavius, afterward called Augustus, at the head of the 
 Roman Empire, made war against " Anthony and Cleopatra," 
 and overcame their forces at the battle of Actium. 
 
144 
 
 " Oh ! Antliony, my dearest lord ! " 
 She sigh'd in deep despair. 
 
 While o'er his lifeless clay, each word 
 Was lost in empty air. 
 
 " I was a c[ueen, and wore no chains^ 
 But by the scepter graced, 
 
 When in this tomb, with costly pains. 
 Thy honor' d corse I placed. 
 
 '' But now the fates my body dooM 
 To grace proud Csesar's train^, 
 
 Then hide me here within thy tomb. 
 And let his hope be yain." 
 
 Then put an asp upon her arm, 
 Which caused her soon to die ; 
 
 Who once could kings and heroes char®. 
 With her bright, shining eye. 
 
 And Mary, Queen of Scots, is gone ; 
 
 Whose beauteous form and face^ 
 Unrival'd in all Europe shone^ 
 
 For majesty and grace. 
 
 With all her beauty she must die 
 And m^et a hapless death ; 
 
 She lost her head to satisfy 
 The proud Elizabeth. 
 
145 
 
 And tlie old jealous maiden cjiieeDj 
 "V^lio cut off Mary's hea,d, 
 
 At deatb, in wretchedness was seen, 
 And full of future dread. 
 
 The hapless Mary met her fate 
 
 Apparently resign' d, 
 While one esteem'd more wise and great 
 
 Betray'd a troubled mind. 
 
 And what is Alexander now 
 
 Who once o'er earth could rave, 
 
 And made the bleeding nations bow ? 
 Dust! in the drunkard's grave. 
 
 The great Napoleon fiU'd with dread 
 
 All Europe for awhile; 
 But now among the vulo-ar dead 
 
 Lies on a barren isle. 
 
 Beat by the dark Atlantic's flood 
 
 ' Ear from his native shore ; 
 Who deeply drench'd in human blood, 
 Each land he travel' d o'er. 
 
 No man more swiftly rose to power 
 
 In every human view, 
 But his vain glory in an hour 
 
 Came down at Waterloo. 
 
146 
 
 Where now are all the monuments 
 
 Erected in old times ? 
 Sunk in the dust, with their contents 
 
 All stain'd with blood and crimes. 
 
 Though yet some moldering py ramid. 
 
 May strike the trav'lerVt ^K^ f 
 The kings and queens in darknesslnd 
 
 All undistinguish'd lie. 
 
 How many a costly urn and bust 
 That men could once admire, 
 
 Was lost forever in the dust 
 Of Babylon and Tyre, 
 
 Of Carthage, Ninevah, and all 
 The famous towns of yore, 
 
 Whose wickedness produced their fall 
 To rise again no more ! 
 
 And in a few short fleeting days 
 How lifeless and how cold 
 
 Will be each lovely form and face 
 We now in life behold ! 
 
 But I grow sick with such a theme, 
 
 And will no further go. 
 The life of man is like a dream. 
 
 This world a place of, woe. 
 
 1845. 
 
147 
 TO JEMIMA BALLARD, 
 
 ON THE DEATH OF HER HUSBAND, JONATHAN BALLARD, 
 OP PARKE COUNTY, lA. 
 
 Dear sister, I cannot express 
 
 ■ The feelings of my heart, 
 For one thus, left in deep distress, 
 
 And lonely as thou art. 
 
 How we, like all of mortal birth, 
 
 To disappointment doom'd, 
 Have seen our fondest hopes on earth, 
 
 Among the dead entomb 'd. 
 
 Thy liusband, and my brother dear, 
 
 Whom we had hoped to see 
 This fall upon a visit here, 
 
 In company with thee, 
 
 Was call'd to join the silent dead, 
 
 So distant from his home, 
 That we could not be there to shed 
 
 Our tears around his tomb. 
 
 But though so far away he died, 
 
 From his afflicted spouse, 
 And many relatives beside, 
 
 'T was at his brother's house,'^ 
 
 * At the house of William Ballard, in Randolph county, la. 
 
148 
 
 Where care on liim was still bestow'd. 
 
 To give liis body ease, 
 And with his soul resign'd to God, 
 
 He left the world in peace. 
 
 Then let us fancy how much worse 
 Might be the cross we bear, 
 
 And words would fail, in prose or verse. 
 The diff 'renee to declare. 
 
 It would have given us more paioy 
 And harder been for thee, 
 
 If he had been in battle slain, 
 Or lost upon the sea ; 
 
 Where burial would have been in vain. 
 
 But in a common grave. 
 Without a coffin, on the plain, 
 
 Or in the briny wave. 
 
 Or if he had a convict died, 
 As many husbands have, 
 
 Or had committed suicide, 
 
 Or found a drunkard's grave. 
 
 A lonely widow then might mourn. 
 
 And have such cause of care,. 
 As scarcely could be firmly borne 
 
 By strangers to despair. 
 
149 
 
 But wlien t"be present case we scan, 
 "With an impartial eye, 
 
 We grieve but for a pious man 
 Who died as others die. 
 
 And though we from affliction's cup 
 May often have our fill, 
 
 There still is peace in giving up 
 Our hearts to God's pure wiU. 
 
 Then may it be our happy lot 
 To find the rest we crave, 
 
 When earthly cares shall be forgot, 
 Beyond the silent grave. 
 
 1845o 
 
 TO THE MEMORY OF ELIAS FISHER, 
 
 DECEASED 22nD OF THE TWELFTH MONTH, 1845. 
 
 Our worthy friend Fisher, once active and strong, 
 And whose late affliction continued so long, 
 Is gone to his rest, at the age of fourscore, 
 And the place which has known him shall know him 
 no more. 
 
150 
 
 He long had been one wlio devoted his mind 
 To the best of all causes, the good of mankind ; 
 His talents though humble, at home and abroad, 
 Were occupied chiefly for the honor of God. 
 
 His widow, his friends, and his neighbors have shared 
 In a loss, by his death, which cannot be repair'd ; 
 But bless' d are the dead, who have died in the Lord^ 
 They rest from their labors and have their reward. 
 
 THE FALLS 01 RATTLESNAKE, 
 
 AND THE SUEROUNDING SCENERY, 
 
 I LATELY told my readers all, 
 
 That I had never seen 
 A cavern or a waterfall, 
 
 Or near the ocean been. 
 
 Eut I have since been at " the Falls,'^ 
 And on " the sounding shore " 
 
 Survey'd the black, stupendous walls.. 
 And heard the waters roar. 
 
 * In Highland county. 
 
151 
 
 They fell in a broad, wliiten'd sheet, 
 And made a thund'ring sound, 
 
 While rocks above me, fifty feet, 
 Hung o'er the deep profound. 
 
 The scenery all is quite sublime, 
 Along those lofty banks, 
 
 Where Nature, since the birth of time, 
 Has been at her wild pranks. 
 
 With trees and shrubs of evergreen, 
 
 The cliffs are overhung, 
 And on a more imposing scene, 
 
 My muse has never sung. 
 
 Some cedars stand those cliffs among, 
 Whose age, from what appears, 
 
 If any tree could live so long, 
 Is half a thousand years. 
 
 A feeling rose within my breast. 
 As on these things I mused, 
 
 Which cannot be in words express'd, 
 My thoughts were so confused. 
 
 Yet I will give a partial sketch. 
 To show how mix'd they were, 
 
 On all that lay in Fancy's reach. 
 In ocean, earth, and air. 
 
152 
 
 I thonglit of what I tlien could see — 
 Why had I seen no more ! 
 
 And what a pleasure it would be 
 To hear Niagara roar. 
 
 What splendid cedars must have stood 
 
 Of yore, upon the sod 
 Where Solomon procured the wood, 
 
 To build the house of Grod. 
 
 And 't was from the same cedar ridge, 
 The Grecian soldiers bore 
 
 TJie timber for a two mile bridge. 
 That reach' d the Tyrean shore. 
 
 Where Alexander cross 'd and made 
 
 A ruin of the town ; 
 Which, for it's riches, dyes, and trade, 
 
 Was long of high renown. 
 
 I thought of Alexander's fate — 
 The conqueror dying drunk — 
 
 And of Napoleon's sad estate, 
 When deep in ruin sunk ; 
 
 A friendless exile on the shore 
 
 Of St. Helena's isle. 
 Who but a little while before 
 
 Lived in such princely style. 
 
153 
 
 And hence, I thought how vain and frail 
 
 Are all the works of man, 
 Compared with those that never fail 
 
 Upon Jehovah's plan. 
 
 Then what a glorious theme of thought 
 
 Is that Eternal Power 
 Which first into existence brought 
 
 The rocks that o'er me tower; 
 
 Which, though with years grown old and grey, 
 
 May yet for ages stand, 
 And through all time the work display 
 
 Of an Almighty hand. 
 
 And if the rocky hills I see 
 
 Afford me such delight, 
 What must the gazer's wonder be 
 
 On Chimborazo's hight ? 
 
 To look from Etna's tallest cliff 
 
 Through her volcanic caves. 
 Or from the peak of Teneriffe 
 
 To view the rolling waves 
 
 Far on the ocean's broad expanse ; 
 
 And hear the solemn roar, 
 As they with fury still advance 
 
 And dash against the shore. 
 
154 
 
 And wliat I saw reminded me 
 
 Of my old native home, 
 And of my days of cliildisli glee 
 
 About my father's dome. 
 
 The pines and cedars which adorn 
 
 The Carolina hills; 
 The cliffs around where I was born, 
 
 And all the pleasant rills, 
 
 That flow'd from fountains pure and cool, 
 Beneath the rocks and fern ; 
 
 And of the scenery round the school 
 Where I began to learn. 
 
 I left that state when but a boy, 
 
 Near forty years before ; 
 Such a resemblance here I saw, 
 
 Of my old native shore. 
 
 And thus I mused among the rocks, 
 And clamber' d up the steep 
 
 From whence a thousand massy blocks 
 Had tumbled in the deep. 
 
 Romantic, dark, and craggy peaks, 
 
 Arose on either side, 
 Where all the game the hunter seeks 
 
 Could once in safety hide. 
 
155 
 
 The catamount and panther then, 
 
 Could here their young ones rear : 
 
 Time was when even savage men 
 Did not molest them there. 
 
 But where enlighten'd man has smiled, 
 The beasts have fled away, 
 
 That once through all this region, wild, 
 Could rove by night or day. 
 
 And the red men who onee could roam 
 These hills and valleys o'er, 
 
 Are dead, or gone to a new home, 
 On some far western shore. 
 
 A little town is rising near 
 
 This still romantic ground, 
 
 And Cherry's mills, whose clack we hea; 
 Dispense their blessings round. 
 
 So much for nature and for art, 
 
 Despite my simple lays. 
 For both have acted here their part. 
 
 And merited some praise. 
 
 The stream is not Niagara, 
 
 And yet it has a fall, 
 And all who chance to pass that way 
 
 Should give the place a call. 
 1846. 
 
156 
 
 ACKNOWLEDaMENT AND PRAYEE 
 
 OF AN OHIO FARMER, WHEN CONTRASTING THE PLENT 
 WITH WHICH WE ARE BLESSED IN THIS COUNTRY 
 WITH THE SCARCITY THAT PREVAILS IN IRELANI 
 AND AMONG THE POOR AND OPPRESSED OF ALL NATIONS 
 
 We thank Thee, oli Lord ! for the plenty before us, 
 And for the good health we at present enjoy, 
 
 And though we are sinners, to favor restore us, 
 That themes of thy glory our tongues may employ. 
 
 While we live in plenty and luxury here, 
 What thousands of others in poverty pine, 
 
 Subsisting on less than we cast every year, 
 
 From o'erflowing tables to the dogs and the swine. 
 
 Instead of exulting in what we can sell 
 To famishing millions in nations abroad, 
 
 In deeper humility and fear we should dwell, 
 And ever acknowledge Thy goodness, oh Grod ! 
 
 Thou stand'st on the base of the broad universe, 
 And this mighty creation is held in Thy span; 
 
 Thine eye through immens'ty and darkness can pierce 
 Yet looks with compassion on thy creature, man. 
 
157 
 
 Chen let us acknowledge in Immiliation, 
 The multiplied blessings received from above, 
 
 Embracing the plan of eternal salvation, 
 A glorious emanation of infinite love. 
 
 rhouo-h man is so wretched and frail from his birth, 
 Whatever thou sendest, for good is design' d, 
 
 And all of the evil existing on earth, 
 
 Originates, mainlj, in the fault of mankind. 
 
 If we are afflicted in thy holy will. 
 
 It is but to answer some righteous design. 
 
 And when overtaken by casual ill, 
 Enable us to bear it and never repine. 
 
 And for all the needy, we pray Thee, oh Lord ! 
 
 Where innocent children are suff 'ring for bread. 
 To them, in Thy goodness, such comforts afford. 
 
 As in this rich country upon us are shed. 
 
 The earth has upon it a sufficiency quite 
 
 To give all the comfort which Thou hast design'd, 
 
 Then teach the affluent to act in Thy sight, 
 As each one should do to the rest of his kind. 
 
 And further, we pray Thee, oh Grod of all grace ! 
 
 Whose hatred of oppression has often been shown, 
 To hasten the freedom of th' African race, 
 
 And all who in bondage under tyranny groan. 
 
158 
 
 All races of men have been made of one blood, 
 
 Some wbite, and some color'd, as seem'd best to Thee, 
 
 And by thy influence upon them for good, 
 
 Let fetters be broken and the captives go free. 
 
 Let peace fill the nations and wars be no more, 
 And temperance her banner in every j)lace raise, 
 
 And all be united. Thy name to adore. 
 Eternally worthy of honor and praise. 
 1846. 
 
 TO NEW HAMPSHIKE, 
 
 ON HEARING THAT THE PRO-SLAVERY PARTY WAS DE- 
 FEATED AT THE LATE ELECTION IN THAT STATE. 
 
 Well done ! thou gallant little state ! 
 
 Among the granite hills ; 
 The spirit thou hast shown of late. 
 
 Our hearts with pleasure fills. 
 
 That thou shouldst thus an efi'ort make, 
 
 To stand on better ground. 
 And bravely through the shackles break, 
 ♦Which had the parties bound, 
 
159 
 
 Is to the lionor of thy name, 
 
 While in the northern states, 
 
 It makes doughfaces blush for shame, 
 And each true heart elates. 
 
 Though false democracy long reign'd, 
 And thought herself so strong, 
 
 While to the car of slavery- chain 'd, 
 She dragg'd thee still along. 
 
 Thou hast arisen from the mire 
 That smears the servile crew, 
 
 Who go where slavery may req[uire. 
 And all her bidding do. 
 
 Thy Athertons are now put down, 
 The paltry southern tools, 
 
 Who, while they sought to win renown, 
 Keap'd the reward of fools. 
 
 Let them before the spirit quail, 
 Which in the land may reign, 
 
 While Cilley, and the gallant Hale, 
 Thy honor shall maintain. 
 
 And may the laurels thou hast won, 
 With time still brighter grow, 
 
 While in each state the work begun, 
 May briskly forward go. 
 
160 
 
 Firm as the rocks of thy own hills, 
 May thy free people stand, 
 
 'Till slavery and it's countless ills, 
 Shall cease throughout the land. 
 1846. 
 
 ON HEARING THE EOARINa OF THE 
 
 CANNONS, 
 
 AT A PUBLIC EEJOICING IN WARREN COUNTY, 0111% 
 FOR VICTORIES OBTAINED OVER THE MEXICANS. 
 
 The cannons are thund'ring at the news from afar, 
 
 While the cries are unheard of the victims of war, 
 
 Our soldiers are plundering the Mexican shore, 
 
 And staining their garments with innocent gore. 
 
 The bidding of slavery must always he done, 
 
 And her faithful allies into warfare have run, 
 
 And thousands must pour out their blood on the plain. 
 
 That she may yet wider extend her domain. 
 
 Though other excuses are stated by Polk, 
 
 They make for blood guiltiness a pitiful cloak; 
 
 Should we for the money a nation may owe, 
 
 Plunge thousands of widows and orphans in woC; 
 
 Or for the offenses that Mexico gave, 
 
 Let loose horrid war to feed hell and the grave? 
 
161 
 
 The president's motives and action were base, 
 
 And congress but sanction'd a deed of disgrace; 
 
 The very offenses of which we complain, 
 
 Were caused by the action our rulers maintain; 
 
 The scheme was concocted in an ill-fated hour, 
 
 That made Texas over to the slave-holding power, 
 
 And then Taylor's army was sent on pretense, 
 
 Of standing prepared for the country's defense; 
 
 But more for the purpose, it seems, to provoke 
 
 The Mexicans to furnish a pretext for Polk 
 
 To plunder their country and make out a claim, 
 
 To ample indemnity for doing the same ; 
 
 And Mexican soldiers have taken the field. 
 
 Their homes and their altars from plunder to shield, 
 
 And inno'^ent women from ruffians to save. 
 
 Who basely dishonor the title of " brave " — 
 
 The fathers are murder' d, defending their farms, 
 
 And mothers are flying with babes in their arms. 
 
 And while desolation around them is spread, 
 
 And widows and orphans lament for the dead, 
 
 And while yet the wounded are writhing with pain, 
 
 And dogs may be tearing the flesh of the slain, 
 
 We fall to rejoicing in true savage glee. 
 
 For what none but demons with pleasure could see, 
 
 While in the chief journals our children peruse, 
 
 Long columns are headed with " Grlorious News," 
 
 And whigs yoked with democrats push on the ear, 
 
 Fraught with the dire curses of an infamous war. 
 14 
 
162 
 
 While soTitliern slave holders are praying their G-od, 
 To give them a little more Mexican sod, 
 Some christian professors are leaving this state. 
 To fight for a thing they pretended to hate ; 
 But how can such hypocrites pray for success, 
 Or hope the Almighty their efforts to bless. 
 
 I blush for thy honor, my dear native land ! 
 That thus it is tarnish'd by the same ruthless hand, 
 That keeps with the cowhide it's subjects in awe, 
 And to other nations would give the same law. 
 The Florida war we have not yet forgot, 
 And this brings upon thee another foul blot. 
 And naught but repentance can ever efface 
 From off thy escutcheon the deepest disgrace, 
 Or from thee avert the just judgments of God, 
 In the day when he makes " inc[uisition for blood." 
 
 I love thee, my country ! but not for the wrong. 
 That crushes the weak by the power of the strong, 
 And the worst in my heart I am wishing for thee. 
 Is that I may see thee yet happy and free ; 
 Not boasting of freedom while slavery remains, 
 But free from a curse that holds millions in chains ; 
 That cannons in warfare no longer may roar, 
 And peace reign forever on my native shore. 
 1846. 
 
16c 
 
 COMPLAINT TO DOCTOH BAILEY. 
 
 WHAT HAS BECOME OF KATE CLEVELAND ? 
 
 Kate Cleveland shone for a short time 
 
 In an exalted sphere ; 
 But must have left our chilly clime, 
 
 The autumn of last year. 
 
 How, of her radiant course, the sheen 
 Was like the meteor's glare : 
 
 A while in dazzhng splendor seen, 
 But soon dissolved in air. 
 
 In the Queen City of the west, 
 Where many sang her praise, 
 
 Her first effusion shone, the best, 
 The rest with dimmer rays. 
 
 But how or whence she came or went, 
 
 No one appears to know. 
 Or who it was that thus gave vent. 
 
 To love's melodious woe. 
 
 A love-lorn dame she must have been, 
 Who travel'd from the east. 
 
 In search of some bright western scene, 
 That might her fancy feast. 
 
164 
 
 And sucli a genius where it flies 
 
 Must dazzle as it goes; 
 Reflected from tlie southern skies, 
 
 Or from the northern snows. 
 
 Perhaps she may he dead, and laid 
 Where none can know her grave; 
 
 Or if alive, where has she stray'd ? 
 To know it, how I crave ! 
 
 Yet after all, I do not care, 
 
 As much as some may think ; 
 
 I had a little time to spare, 
 With paper, pen, and ink ; 
 
 And thought I might exhibit thus, 
 
 The fickle mind of man, 
 So prone to make a useless fuss, 
 
 When unknown works we scan. 
 
 But when we find the author out, 
 How soon the wonder ends ; 
 
 " She never shone at ball or rout, 
 And has no wealthy friends." 
 
 If Kate had been well known in town^ 
 And lived there all her days, 
 
 No writer would have set her down, 
 As worthy of much praise. 
 
165 
 
 And some of the same rtymmg clerks, 
 
 That have extoll'd her so, 
 Might have been carping at her works. 
 
 And laughing at her woe. 
 
 For my own pen I never claim' d, 
 Nor for applause could seek ; 
 
 But scribbled 'till I got ashamed, 
 And from experience speak. 
 
 I wrote a poem, which was sent, 
 
 (Some friend must bear the blame) 
 
 And at your office put in print. 
 Without a date or name. 
 
 Your patrons here admired the same, 
 And thought it half divine ; 
 
 But, oh ! how soon it lost it's fame, 
 When they found out 't was mine. 
 
 Another in the " Western Star," 
 
 My own initials bore; 
 But it was thought too good and rare, 
 
 To come from such a store. 
 
 One person ask'd me if 't was mine, 
 And I the truth must tell ; 
 
 He said, " some thought it was not thine,. 
 Because 't was done so well. 
 
166 
 
 So Kate had "better live unknown, 
 And let her works be praised, 
 If o'er her dust no letter'd stone, 
 
 Be to her memory raised. 
 1846. 
 
 THE IRISHMAN'S EESOLVE. 
 
 The following simple tale was suggested by the reading of an 
 account, from Ireland, that great suffering prevailed among 
 the poorer classes, in consequence of a disease among the 
 potatoes; but that Father Matthew was still administering 
 the pledge, and many were bettering their condition by 
 receiving it. 
 
 *T WAS on a cold night, as a poor Irish wight, 
 Whose use of strong drink had been free, 
 
 Sat in his low shed, o'er a morsel of bread, 
 With a dear little child on his knee. 
 
 While two or three more sat on the dirt floor, 
 And their mother lay sick on the cot, 
 
 That thus the poor man, in deep sorrow began 
 To lament his disconsolate lot : 
 
167 
 
 ** An' what sliall we do, for the meal is gone through 
 
 I got when I wove the last paice, 
 An' now to be vex'd, about gettin' the next, 
 
 I 'm a thiuldn' 's a mighty bad case. 
 
 " The potatoes have got what the folks call the rot, 
 
 An' bread stuff is comin' so high, 
 That it 's no use to beg, an' I rather wud deg, 
 
 But fear my poor childer must die. 
 
 " I was brought up a waiver, an' none have been braver, 
 
 At keepin' the loom in a clack, 
 'Till in evil days, bad luck, an' bad ways, 
 
 Have brought me aflat o' my back. 
 
 " When I could get work, I 've not been a shurk, 
 
 But now there 's no gettin' ahead ; 
 An' my heart how it tries, when this little one cries, 
 
 And all of us suffer for bread. 
 
 " I can't get away, or in America, 
 
 Would try a new part of the earth ; 
 But know I should grieve, if ever I leave 
 
 Dear Ireland, the land of my birth. 
 
 " An' when I 'm a thinkin', about quittin' drinkin,' 
 
 I only get into it farther, 
 An' each botheration, increases temptation, 
 
 An' jist makes the quittin' go harder. 
 
168 
 
 " But good luck upon me, I 'm now out of money, 
 An' dealers won't trust me for liquor, 
 
 An' since I can't get it, I jist better quet it. 
 
 So now for tlie pledge, an' I '11 sign it tlie quicker. 
 
 " And then, my dear Mary, I wisli you 'd be chary, 
 
 Nor longer about us be grievin', 
 For good people yet may kelp us to get 
 
 Some things that will make out a livin'." 
 
 And on the next morning, a smile was adorning 
 
 The face of his true-hearted wife ; 
 His word he could seal, with potatoes and meal, 
 
 That the pledge he had taken, for life. 
 
 He now could draw rations, from certain donations 
 
 In favor of poor men that sign'd, 
 To assist them until their own labor and skill 
 
 The means of subsistence should find. 
 1846. 
 
169 
 
 A VIEW OF THE SUBLIME IN NATUKE, 
 
 CALCULATED TO EXAIiT OUR IDEAS OF THE WISDOM, 
 GOODNESS, AND POWEE OP THE CREATOR. 
 
 Written on returning from a cave, and a view of 
 the scenery o?i " the Rocky Fork of Paint,^^ in High- 
 land county. 
 
 '• The invisible things of him, from the creation of the 
 world, are clearly seen, being understood by the things that 
 are made; even his eternal power and Godhead." — Romans 
 chap. I, verse 20. 
 
 I AND my wife have just got througli, 
 
 A short, delightful tour ; 
 Wherein some friendly interview, 
 
 Beguiled each passing hour. 
 
 We witness'd many a pleasing scene, 
 
 But I can only write 
 Such thoughts as chance to intervene, . 
 
 In a discursive flight. 
 
 I would describe the cave we saw, 
 
 But words in vain would be, 
 An outline of the scene to draw, 
 
 As it appear' d to me. 
 15 
 
170 
 
 And therefore I shall do no more, 
 
 Than bid my readers go, 
 And for themselves the cave explore, 
 
 And see a splendid show. 
 
 We pass'd into the seventh room, 
 
 And view'd the white-wash'd walls, 
 
 Where nature, silent as the tomh, 
 Dwells in her garnish'd halls. 
 
 Whjsre, though no ray of sunshine gleams, 
 
 To aid our mortal sight. 
 She hasks in the eternal beams. 
 
 Of heaven's primeval light. 
 
 Then go, my friends, and have a view, 
 Among those clifll sublime ; 
 
 It will but take a day or two, 
 And not be mis-spent time. 
 
 Some think that nothing is of use, 
 Except what fills the purse, 
 
 And that of time 't is an abuse, 
 With nature to converse. 
 
 But I care not how men may talk, 
 
 Who feel no charm divine, 
 Beyond the pleasures of a walk. 
 
 Among the corn and swine. 
 
171 
 
 Or what from sordid feeling springs, 
 
 In view of plenty given, 
 Of cash and other earthly things, 
 
 "Which constitute their heav'n. 
 
 A human soul that has no taste. 
 For pleasures more refined. 
 
 Exhibits but a moral waste — 
 A desert of the mind. 
 
 And though some notions I possess, 
 Which others may condemn, 
 
 Yet industry I love no less 
 Than any one of them.. 
 
 And I esteem as much as they. 
 
 Each blessing on the sod, 
 Yet wish more widely to survey 
 
 The wondrous works of God, 
 
 The cavern and the waterfall, 
 
 'Mid scenes sublime and grand, 
 
 Which we " the works of nature " call. 
 Were made at his command. 
 
 Whose power is seen in all the forms 
 Which life and beauty wear, 
 
 And in the lightning, clouds, and storms, 
 And fiery meteor's glare. 
 
172 
 
 Religion never can discard 
 
 What may improve the mind; 
 
 And things vrhich many disregard, 
 Were for this end design'd. 
 
 Whatever may in human hearts, 
 True, mental pleasure raise, 
 
 To man a clearer view imparts 
 Of the Almighty's ways. 
 
 And hence I love, when I have time, 
 Among the cliffs to stray, 
 
 And have a view of the sublime, 
 Which nature's works display. 
 
 As recently a few miles east. 
 
 Beneath the sun's bright beams. 
 
 My fancy had a splendid feast 
 
 Among the rocks and streams. 
 
 I never heard the ocean roar. 
 And yet should like to be 
 
 A while upon some craggy shore, 
 To view the rolling sea. 
 
 But since this view I cannot gain, 
 I shall no murmur raise, 
 
 And on the same alluvial plain. 
 Expect to end my days. 
 
173 
 
 I still have toil'd for needful food, 
 
 A farmer in tlie field, 
 And yet I love the solitude 
 
 Which the deep woods can yield. 
 
 I love to stand upon the shore, 
 And view the sweeping tide. 
 
 And hear the dashing waters roar, 
 When all is still beside. 
 
 I love to see the rippling spring 
 Meander through the glade : 
 
 I love to hear the birds that sing 
 In the thick woodland shade. 
 
 I love to see the flowers in bloom, 
 
 The blossoms on the trees : 
 I love the sweet and rich perfume 
 
 With which they scent the breese. 
 
 I love to see the stars at night, 
 
 In fields of ether blue. 
 Where worlds on worlds all shining bright, 
 
 Their stated rounds pursue. 
 
 The glorious sun still deigns to shine 
 
 Upon them as they roll ; 
 An emblem of the Source Divine, 
 
 Of light to every soul. 
 15* 
 
174 
 
 And thus, from eartli, where mortals plod 
 
 And toil beneath the curse, 
 My thoughts are raised to Nature's God, 
 
 Who rules the universe; 
 
 Who first the earth from chaos brought, 
 
 To her appointed place ; 
 And since, for man, such wonders wrought. 
 
 Of mercy, love, and grace. 
 
 The further through creation wide, 
 The works of Grod we scan, 
 
 The more we find to humble pride 
 And arrogance in man. 
 
 And what instruction still is lost, 
 
 By all the grov'ling train. 
 Who follow mammon at the cost 
 
 Of all but paltry gain. 
 
 And by the thousands who must toil 
 
 To pamper lordly pride, 
 While their own share upon the soil 
 
 Is by the rich denied. 
 
 If we go on the richest land. 
 
 Where blessings most abound, 
 
 There mammon's altar's thickest stand, 
 And sordid souls are found. 
 
175 
 
 But go to yonder mountains blue, 
 
 The lofty spires of stone, 
 From Nature's temples point us to 
 
 The Lord Almighty's throne. 
 
 As well, in mental vision, seen 
 
 Through rocks, from cliffs, and caves, 
 As through the sky, whose starry sheen 
 
 Illumes the ocean's waves. 
 
 In many works of human art, 
 
 The devil claims a share ; 
 But in creation has no part. 
 
 For God himself is there. 
 
 And Nature working to his hand, 
 
 In ocean, earth, and sky ; 
 Which from the simple to the grand, 
 
 Beveal the Power on high. 
 
 And how appropriate the term, 
 
 " The everlasting hills," 
 To ancient piles yet standing firm, 
 
 Upon their rocky sills. 
 
 Which have been figurative made, 
 
 Of the *' Foundation sure, 
 The corner stone in Zion laid," 
 
 And all that can endure. 
 
176 
 
 And hence, wBat ideas sublime, 
 
 Associate with rocks 
 Wbich have maintain'd their place through time, 
 
 Amid convulsive shocks. 
 
 Defying winds, earthquakes, and waves, 
 
 And unimpair'd by rust, 
 While ages fill'd successive graves, 
 
 And cities sunk in dust. 
 
 And while on some stupendous crag, 
 Where naught but moss can grow, 
 
 Imagination seems to lag, 
 We cast a look below. 
 
 These are thy mighty works, God ! 
 
 Enraptured, we exclaim. 
 On barren cliffs and the rich sod, 
 
 Thy wonders are the same. 
 
 But there immersed in sweat and toil, 
 
 How dimly we could see 
 That every blessing on the soil, 
 
 Should draw our hearts to Thee. 
 
 And while in luxury we pass'd 
 
 Our precious time away, 
 We thought too little on the last 
 
 And awful judgment day. 
 
177 
 
 But here abstracted from the cares 
 
 That stupify the soul, 
 We offer Thee our humble prayers, 
 
 And yield to Thy control. 
 
 Forgive us, gracious Grod ! for our 
 
 Forgetfulness of Thee ; 
 And help us, through Thy saving power. 
 
 From sin and death to flee. 
 
 Inspire us, from these views sublime, 
 
 Thy goodness to adore, 
 Of honor worthy, through all time, 
 
 And praise forever more. 
 1846. 
 
 FREDERICK DOUaLASS IN EUROPE. 
 
 AN EXILE EEOM HIS NATIVE LAND; BECAUSE A MAN 
 WHO QUIETLY WALKS OUT OE SLAVERY, WITHOUT HIS 
 master's consent, CANNOT BE SAFE IN THIS BOASTED 
 "LAND OE THE EREE." 
 
 Though Douglass escaped from the slave prison house, 
 He soon ascertain' d that his ruin was plann'd. 
 
 And forced from his country, his children, and spouse, 
 Became an exile in a far-distant land. 
 
178 
 
 He first was found guilty of a dark- color' cl skin, 
 And by his white brothers was doom'd as their prey: 
 
 But longing for freedom, committed the sin, 
 Of breaking his shackles and running away. 
 
 He came to a state that was said to be free, 
 And married a young and affectionate wife, 
 
 And hoped, in his freedom, such comforts to see, 
 As soften the troubles and cares of this life. 
 
 An eloquent speaker, his words sent a thrill 
 
 To th' hearts of his hearers, while themes he diseuss's 
 
 Of brutal outrages at the slave holder's will, 
 Inflicted on victims of rapine and lust. 
 
 The slave hunters heard of his place of abode, 
 And vowing their vengeance upon the poor man, 
 
 Resolved to restore him his soul-crushing load, 
 And for this vile purpose were forming their plan. 
 
 But now the same spirit which led him at first 
 To cast from his body the slave holder's chain, 
 
 Sent him from a land by oppression long cursed, 
 To seek human freedom beyond the broad main. 
 
 And though in his bosom he yet feels the stings 
 That pierced his brave heart at his own native place. 
 
 He now enjoys freedom, where princes and kicgs 
 Acknowledge the rights of the African race. 
 
179 
 
 Though honor'd in Europe, and treated as well 
 As any white person, yet far from his home, 
 
 And without a cottage wherein he may dwell, 
 He but as a straftger in exile must roam. 
 
 The scenes of his childhood were only of ill, 
 
 But those of his manhood saw freedom's first dawn, 
 
 And it must his bosom with sorrow now fill. 
 To think they forever are from him withdrawn. 
 
 His wife and his children are not held as slaves, 
 Yet knowing they cannot from danger be free, 
 
 What must be his feelings beyond the dark waves, 
 That sweep o'er the face of the deep, rolling sea ! 
 
 But they will go to him as soon as they can, 
 And may they in safety the ocean pass o'er, 
 
 To gladden the spirit of a noble-soul'd man, 
 
 By slavery now banish' d from his own native shore. 
 
 1846. 
 
180 
 
 THE WONDERS OF THE PRESENT AGE. 
 
 I HAYE been tempted much, of late, 
 
 To write at least a page, 
 Upon some works of recent date, 
 
 Tlie wonders of tbe age. 
 
 We in an age of wonders live. 
 
 Wherein the skill of man. 
 Seems an impulsion to receive 
 
 To do what mortal can. 
 
 Since skill and science have combined 
 
 To foster enterprise, 
 Some great improvements, thus designed. 
 
 Have come before our eyes. 
 
 The truckles, drags, and sleds, once drawn 
 
 By oxen through the mud, 
 Are out of use, forgot, and gone, 
 
 Like things before the flood. 
 
 Steam ships ride on the stormy maiuj, 
 
 Steam boats on rivers ply, 
 And locomotives o'er the plain, 
 
 With eq[ual swiftness fly. 
 
181 
 
 I daily hear the humming sound, 
 
 And ringing of the cars, 
 Which pass six miles from my own ground, 
 
 On trails of iron bars. 
 
 Thek varied noises often seem, 
 
 The hum and louder roar. 
 Like that of some wild, dashing stream, 
 
 Upon its craggy shore. 
 
 Or like the sound, at distance heard, 
 
 Among the leafless trees, 
 When they by wintry blasts are stirr'd, 
 
 And shudder in the breeze. 
 
 The locomotive proudly sails 
 
 Along Miami's shore; 
 And often o'er the hills and dales 
 
 We hear his whistle roar. 
 
 The steam, let through a copper horn. 
 
 Produces a shrill sound, 
 Which on the gentle breezes borne, 
 
 Is heard for miles around. 
 
 We sometimes hear it at our house, 
 
 Resound in upper air ; 
 The object is, the hogs and cows, 
 
 From off the track to scare. 
 18 
 
182 
 
 Yet many a cow is doom'd to feel 
 
 The locomotive's weight, 
 And hogs have scarcely time to squeal, 
 
 Before it is too late. 
 
 And yet no farmer loses more 
 
 Than balances his gain, 
 Since higher prices than before 
 
 Are paid for pork and grain. 
 
 From Cincinnati to the lake 
 
 The road will soon be done, 
 
 And forty minutes it will take. 
 Each fifteen miles to run. 
 
 And forty cents for these fifteen 
 
 The passenger must pay. 
 And have a pleasant ride between 
 
 The depots on the way. 
 
 I now will try my rustic muse 
 
 On the magnetic wires, 
 That Morse contrived to carry news 
 
 Wherever man desires. 
 
 The word is sent as quick as thought, 
 Or as the lightning's speed; 
 
 What bank is broke, what rogue is caught, 
 What swindlers still succeed; 
 
183 
 
 What officer, by Polk, turn'd out, 
 What loafer took his place, 
 
 And all that congress is about, 
 The nation to disgrace ; 
 
 That we have gone beyond our bounds, 
 To please the Texas knaves, 
 
 And now want Cuba, with her hounds, 
 To guard our gangs of slaves. 
 
 Thus men dispatch what they may think, 
 Or what the news may be ; 
 
 The pen, a pointed wire, — the ink 
 Is electricity. 
 
 Though news of outrage and abuse, 
 May be the chief convey'd, 
 
 The telegraph is of great use 
 To men engaged in trade. 
 
 And elexjtricity, of late, 
 
 A potent aid is found. 
 Of all the things that vegetate 
 
 In the prolific ground. 
 
 Some roots mature in half the time 
 The common mode req[uires, 
 
 And every thing is soon in prime, 
 From the galvanic wires. 
 
184 
 
 And we from hence a proof obtain, 
 
 That heaven's own lightning yields. 
 
 As well as sunshine and the rain^ 
 A blessing on our fields. 
 
 Another wonder I mugt name, 
 
 Which lately came to pass. 
 For making salt, the needful flame 
 
 Is now kept up with gas, 
 
 That rises with the water, stilly 
 
 As if by heaven ordain' d. 
 The very purpose to fulfill. 
 
 By this discovery gain'd. 
 
 A solemn feeling, mix'd with joy. 
 May well pervade the mind, 
 
 While we admire how men employ 
 The means for good design'd» 
 
 God made the means, man found them ont^ 
 
 Of the improvements vast. 
 Wherein the present age, no doubt, 
 
 Excels most ages past. 
 
 In miUs and factories, in all parts, 
 What changes have been made I 
 
 What grand improvements in the arts? 
 And implements of trade I 
 
185 
 
 With patent things of every kind, 
 Our shops and markets teem, 
 
 From books and letters for the blind, 
 To chickens hatch'd by steam. 
 
 And we have colleges and schools, 
 Which number hundreds more, 
 
 And flourish under better rules, 
 Than ever known before. 
 
 Asylums where the deaf and blind 
 Are taught to read and write. 
 
 Through darkness pour upon the mind 
 A flood of mental light. 
 
 Which shows a march of intellect, 
 From whence invention springs, 
 
 And all that mortal could expect, 
 To his possession brings. 
 
 But luxury, that bane of life, 
 
 Is making sad inroads 
 Among mankind; while party strife 
 
 Some men to madness goads. 
 
 While speculation of all kinds, 
 The sole influence seems. 
 
 The vagaries of many minds, 
 But end in blasted schemes. 
 
186 
 
 We at the present time have more 
 Than half a score of isms, 
 
 To all mankind unknown before^ 
 This fruitful age of schisms. 
 
 But which is wrong or nearest rights, 
 I have not time to show; 
 
 A few may bear the test of light=, 
 The rest for humbug go. 
 
 The isms of the Mormon sham^. 
 
 And the eommunitist, 
 Of Miller, Mesmer, and G-rahaia^ 
 
 Are on the humbug list. 
 
 The greatest wonder that appears^ 
 Out of these things to rise. 
 
 Is that some men of sense and year.^ 
 Become the dupes of lies. 
 
 There yet remains a thing or two^ 
 That I am bound to name^ 
 
 And do it with an honest view 
 To hold them up to shame» 
 
 While fashion still has sought to Sn^^ 
 
 Expedients to efface 
 All beauty from the human mind;, 
 
 And every sense of grace^ 
 
187 
 
 Tlie devil has been mixing things, 
 
 Among the works of man ; 
 Invented corset boards * and strings, 
 
 And bustles — stuff 'd with bran, 
 
 To give " the ladies " such ill shapes, 
 
 As none but fools approve ; 
 Such belles may please some dandy apes, 
 
 But gain no wise man's love. 
 
 It is a wonder, then, that such 
 
 Pernicious things are used; 
 Whereby God's workmanship so much 
 
 Is, in this age, abused. 
 
 Such things can never be of use, 
 
 Except to punish pride ; 
 And rid the world of such as choose 
 
 This plan of suicide. 
 
 Thus, many wonders have been done, 
 
 Beneath this western sky ; 
 And a " perpetual motion " none 
 
 But fools will ever try. 
 
 1847. 
 
 * Bronson, the celebrated professor of elocution, in his re- 
 marks upon the subject of tight lacing, uses the term " cursed 
 boards," instead of the words which I have used. 
 
188 
 
 TO DR. F. WILLIAMSON, 
 
 ON HIS ANALYSIS OP THE MENTAL AND MORAL CHARACTER 
 OE THE AUTHOR. 
 
 I THINK my friend was right in what he said 
 So far as the defects may be concern' d, 
 
 Both in my character and what he read 
 From the unskillful pen of an unlearn'd 
 And rustic countryman, who never turn'd 
 
 From the old, heaten track, new paths to try ; 
 But while each low and sordid aim he spurn'd, 
 
 Still thought Parnassus' hill so steep and high, 
 
 That the ascent his efforts must defy. 
 
 And yet, I fear, where he bestows some praise, 
 
 It is unmerited on works of mine. 
 Since I have written but in simple lays, 
 
 And never entertain' d a hope to shine 
 
 Among the favorites of the " Sacred Nine; " 
 And though some transient longings after fame. 
 
 With other youthful follies seem'd to join, 
 I thought it wiser to assert no claim 
 That might involve me in defeat and shame. 
 
 He thinks the bumps upon my cranium show 
 
 That I possess a strong poetic vein, 
 From whence " the lofty verse " could burst and flow 
 
 In a subKme and sympathetic strain ; 
 
189 
 
 But here, I doubt, lie overrates my brain ; 
 Yet if my readers should believe it true, 
 
 Let no such passion in my bosom reign, 
 As would the follies of my youth renew, 
 Since my remaining days can be but few. 
 
 I long have had a taste for writing rhyme. 
 
 But always thought my style so low and dull, 
 That nothing worthy to be call'd sublime. 
 
 Could emanate from such a stupid skull ; 
 
 Yet oft my head and heart became so full, 
 An overflowing was the consequence ; 
 
 And I must give the words a chime, to lull 
 My mind to rest, and make some recompense 
 For what the composition lack'd in sense. 
 
 For study I could have but little chance, 
 
 And did my scribbling mostly after night, 
 And 'mid my daily cares could not advance. 
 
 In the pursuit of intellectual light. 
 
 And some declared my "rhyming was not right; 
 That such vain things would only end in loss, 
 
 By leading me the simple truth to slight ; " 
 And others thought I " ought to have a boss, 
 Because my lines did not run clear across." 
 
 My days of sorrow have been many, here, 
 
 And from my muse I have some solace found. 
 And none should envy me, if this could cheer 
 
190 
 
 My steps, wliile pacing tlirougli this weary round, 
 And still to virtue, truth, and justice bound, 
 I have endeavor' d to defend the same, 
 
 And if my doctrines may be deem'd unsound, 
 That honesty of purpose still I claim, 
 Which saves the ignorant from a sense, of shame. 
 
 In one important thing, if in no more, 
 I must confess, my friend has hit it well ; 
 
 I think the battle field, besmear'd with gore. 
 Displays on earth the foulest work of hell, 
 And on such themes I do not love to dwell; 
 
 Much less would covet the blood-stain'd renown, 
 By licensed murderers won where thousands fell ; 
 
 Their deeds of fame to future times go down, 
 
 When dark oblivion should their memory drown. 
 
 If any mortals are deserving praise, 
 
 The benefactors of mankind are those, 
 Who out of sorrow could the mourner raise, 
 
 And while they love their friends would make no foes. 
 
 But do their best to lighten human woes; 
 Yet these imp ell' d by duty, disregard 
 
 The vain and empty praise that fame bestows, 
 And though their lot on earth is often hard, 
 Their works of mercy bring a sure reward. 
 
 Who would not rather have his name enroll'd 
 With those of Clarkson, Wilberforce, and Penn, 
 
191 
 
 Than with successful warriors, fierce and bold, 
 Who but deserve the name of "wicked men," 
 Or to be inmates of some horrid den, 
 
 From whence the monster hies in quest of blood, 
 Eaves o'er the mangled carcases, and then 
 
 Pursues new victims through the sanguine flood, 
 
 And at his pleasure to his den may scud. 
 
 I class the warrior with those beasts of prey. 
 That feast upon the flesh of weaker kinds; 
 
 Yet man, forsooth ! is rather worse than they. 
 
 For beasts have none, and men have reasoning minds 
 Yet oft the human will a pretext finds. 
 
 To aid in some foul work the devil plann'd, 
 And disregarding every tie that binds 
 
 Man to his brother, a blood-thirsty band 
 
 Must fight for money or a strip of land.* 
 
 Destructiveness must run to an extreme, 
 
 That shows great moral darkness of the mind, 
 If in the aid of any cause or scheme. 
 
 It leads to the destruction of mankind; 
 
 And were it to its proper use confined, 
 It could no more the hands of men employ, 
 
 Beyond the lives of beasts, for food design' d. 
 And those mischievous kinds, that might annoy 
 Our flocks or fields, or human life destroy. 
 
 * Th© Mexican indemnity, or California, for instance. 
 
192 
 
 Some wars were autliorized in ancient times, 
 
 When God by outward means Lis people led, 
 And some became the scourge of other's crimes, . 
 
 While pagan darkness through the nations spread ; 
 
 But such excuses cannot now be plead — 
 God's house of old king David could not build, 
 
 Because much blood had by his hands been shed; 
 And now if gospel precepts be fulfiU'd. 
 No man can by his fellow man be kill'd. 
 
 Dismissing here my theme of war and blood, 
 The next I hope may not detain me long, 
 
 The composition be at least as good, 
 Though my opinion may in part be wrong, 
 The subject may perhaps be class'd among, 
 
 The things that benefit the good and just. 
 And yet is that which oft impels the strong, 
 
 Who worship mammon and in riches trust, 
 
 To crush the weak and sink them in the dust. 
 
 "Acquisitiveness" cannot agree with verse, 
 And our poor scribblers are always behind, 
 
 They want the faculty that fills the purse. 
 But let me ask, before it leaves my mind, 
 Can great benevolence with it be join'd? 
 
 Or is it not, beyond a certain mark, 
 
 A thing that makes the human heart unkind? 
 
193 
 
 The miser's soul is ever in the dark*, 
 And of benevolence has not a spark. 
 
 But just enough of any thing is best, 
 
 And yet what great extremes we often see, 
 
 For all are not alike by nature bless'd, — 
 
 At least, some things she ne'er bestow'd on me. 
 That others may possess, — but let it be 
 
 As nature's author may for us ordain ; 
 And from repining let my heart be free, 
 
 Through sorrow, sickness, poverty, and pain, 
 
 If these may come, and still my mind be sane, 
 
 I tbink "the broad-brim-hat influence" next 
 
 May from my pen a passing notice claim, 
 And furnish my poor muse with a pretext. 
 
 At least three stanzas of some sort to frame ; 
 
 But why shouldst thou the broad brim wearers blam© 
 More than the rest of Adam's fallen race, 
 
 Unless they run into such deeds of shame, 
 As would on nonprofessors bring disgrace, 
 And through hypocrisy become more base. 
 
 An evil heart may dwell with clothing plain^ 
 And dress is not a certain test, I know ; 
 
 Yet, after all the changes of the vain, 
 Good sense and decency can never go, 
 Nor any real christian dress for show. 
 
194 
 
 I do not like tlie very broad and flat, 
 
 And think tlie " churn crown " ugly as the low, 
 But give me just a plain and decent hat, 
 And christian conduct to accord with that. 
 
 I know 't was in good humor on thy part, 
 That such a subject, first, was briefly named, 
 
 And 't is from no ill feeling in my heart, 
 That such a notice it from me has claim' d, 
 Of Quaker plainness I am not ashamed, 
 
 Nor of the principles which they profess, 
 And neither by the other should be blamed 
 
 If in the sentiments that we express, 
 
 We differ on an article of dress. 
 
 I know but little of philosophy. 
 
 Yet I love nature and admire her laws. 
 
 While every thing which through her works I see. 
 Proclaims the being of a great First Cause, 
 Whence every creature its existence draws, 
 
 And on His bounty for support depends. 
 
 Who moves ten thousand worlds, without a noise. 
 
 And each from danger in its round defends, 
 
 While all upon it toward the center tends. 
 
 But since no true philosophy can bring 
 
 The christian system into disrepute, 
 I learn to scan, with caution, every thing 
 
 That seems the carnal will of man to suit, 
 
195 
 
 Lest there be some unsoundness at the root, 
 That may those vital principles destroy, 
 
 Which to the pious christian constitute 
 His comfort here, and hope of future joy, 
 And in the heavens, the tongues of saints employ. 
 
 Those scripture doctrines which have been received 
 
 By all professors of the christian name, 
 Continue worthy to be still believed, 
 
 As when they first from their great Author came ; 
 
 For Christ and his precepts remain the same, 
 And reason can but boast a borrow'd light 
 
 In sacred things, while light divine may claim 
 To be the guide that leads the soul aright. 
 Though reason may in outward things be bright. 
 
 And if phrenology must aught contain, 
 
 That seeks the christian faith to overthrow, 
 
 A hope of it's utility is vain, 
 
 For scepticism out of it must grow. 
 And less of good than evil from it flow. 
 
 For while some part may be acknowledged true, 
 If anti- christian doctrines with them go, 
 
 A wrong influence greater harm may do, 
 
 Than could from ignorance of the whole ensue. 
 
 To shun the rock whereon so many split, 
 ! let me seek the shade of Zion's hill, 
 
196 
 
 That I may there in contemplation sit, 
 Or of the streams of Shiloh drink my fill, 
 "Which flow in many a soft and gentle rill, 
 
 Through the green valleys, spreading far and wide,, 
 Where Christ by his eternal spirit still 
 
 Deigns with his true disciples to abide, 
 
 To feed his flock and be their constant guide. 
 
 With these remarks, I shall my subject leave^ 
 
 And hope no controversy may arise 
 Between us, as to what we should receive 
 
 And hold for truth, since error often lies 
 
 In the best systems reason can devise ; 
 Though reason is a necessary thing, 
 
 In all that makes a mortal good and wise, 
 Yet, unassisted, it can never bring 
 That peace which must from christian virtue spring. 
 
 And in conclusion — though my scroll is long— - 
 At least, some longer than I first design'd, 
 
 I have therein intended nothing wrong. 
 
 But aim'd with freedom to express my mindj 
 "Wliich, in this form, cjuite difiicult I find. 
 
 And though a rough and hasty sketch I send, 
 I have no doubt thy feeling will be kind. 
 
 And if thou shouldst review what I have penn'd. 
 
 Remember it is from thy unlearn'd friend. 
 1847. 
 
197 
 
 ON SEEING A DISTANT THUNDER CLOUD. 
 
 Around, througli nature's ample field, 
 
 How much I see and hear, 
 Which still to me can pleasure yield, 
 
 While others look with fear. 
 
 Upon the awful and sublime. 
 
 My mind delights to dwell, 
 Though often out of tune for rhyme, 
 
 In a long, rainy speU. 
 
 I love to see a thunder cloud. 
 
 When it is moving slow, 
 Before its dark and misty shroud 
 
 Obscures the sun's bright glow. 
 
 There is a grandeur in the sight. 
 
 When massy piles are seen, 
 Reflecting different shades of light, 
 
 Through skies that show between. 
 
 I love to hear the thunder roll, 
 
 (The sound can do no harm), 
 And distant winds have for my soul, 
 
 A sad, yet pleasing charm. 
 17 
 
198 
 
 And while the streaks of lightning fall, 
 
 I stand where I can see, 
 With little or no fear at all, 
 ■ That they will injure me. 
 
 The voice of Grod is in the clouds, 
 He rides upon the storm, 
 
 And nature's face in darkness shrouds, 
 His pleasure to perform. 
 
 "Which, still, is to promote the good 
 
 Of all the human race, 
 And fill our fertile land with food, 
 
 That flows to every place ; 
 
 For traffic, or where want prevails. 
 On Europe's distant shores, 
 
 And when the food in Ireland fails, 
 Her people share our stores. 
 
 By storms the air is purified, 
 
 And vegetation grows. 
 From electricity applied. 
 
 As from the rain that flows. 
 
 As light and science still advance. 
 New things are brought to view, 
 
 But ours is not a " world of chance" 
 And what we see is true. 
 
199 
 
 And if electric wires promote 
 A rapid growth of things, 
 
 From natural lightning, who can doubt, 
 A greater blessing springs. 
 
 And while our admiration grows. 
 
 Of the Creator's ways, 
 The good that from his bounty flows, 
 
 Should stiU promote his praise. 
 
 1847. 
 
 SKETCH OF A VISIT TO " THE WEST," 
 
 AND INCIDENTAL REFLECTIONS. 
 
 We now are safely at our home, 
 
 Among our children dear. 
 Nor wish again so far to roam, 
 
 This season of the year. 
 
 We saw upon our route some fair 
 
 And thriving business towns. 
 And smiling plenty every where, 
 
 The farmers' labor crowns. 
 
200 
 
 Except Tipon tlie marsliy plains, 
 
 The ague-breeding bogs, 
 Where if great plenty ever reigns, 
 
 'Twill be of grass and frogs. 
 
 Through thunder storms and swollen streams, 
 
 And over muddy roads, 
 We pass'd and pitied the poor teams, 
 
 While men put on the goads. 
 
 And yet the kindness to us shown, 
 
 By relatives and friends, 
 For sacrifices of our own, 
 
 Made adequate amends. 
 
 We found our dear relations weU, 
 
 And some of them in tears, 
 Which from the recollection fell. 
 
 Of things in former years. 
 
 Oh ! for a sweeter strain to touch 
 
 Those feelings of the soul, 
 Which through life's varied scenes, so much 
 
 The heart of man control. 
 
 In either case, though joy and grief 
 
 From diff'rent causes grow, 
 Our strong emotions find relief. 
 
 When tears begin to flow. 
 
201 
 
 Of human nature 'tis a part, 
 Yet heaven ordain'd it so, 
 
 To vent the feelings of the heart, 
 In scenes of joy and woe. 
 
 No wonder then that some are moved^ 
 With joy to mingle tears, 
 
 When meeting relatives beloved, 
 And absent twenty years ; 
 
 Companions of our youthful days, 
 
 Through fancy's brightest dreams; 
 
 And partners in our childish plays, 
 Along our native streams. 
 
 With such as these in love we met, 
 And parted in good faith, 
 
 Whose friendship I shall not forget. 
 In absence or in death. 
 
 And for some friends, not relatives. 
 From our acquaintance past, 
 
 Within my heart a feeling lives, 
 Which seems destined to last. 
 
 Such large assemblies as I saw, 
 Of plain-dress'd people there, 
 
 From true affection seem'd to drawj 
 For them this simple prayer : 
 
202 
 
 ! that your works may eorrespondj 
 With what appears so plain, 
 
 And your best treasure lie beyond. 
 What from the world we gain. 
 
 The doctrines for which we arc bound, 
 Upon their sacred claims, 
 
 Are spreading still and gaining ground^ 
 With those of other names. 
 
 Some principles which had so long 
 Distinguish'd us from them. 
 
 Are now acknowledged, and the wrong 
 More freely they condemn. 
 
 Then we should not be found behind, 
 
 In what our duty shows 
 Essential to redeem mankind, 
 
 Or lighten human woes. 
 
 We had, some days, with pleasure been 
 Near Mooresville, on White Lick, 
 
 And visited our friends and kin, 
 Near Springfield, on Mill creek. 
 
 And then departed for our home, 
 
 Of places still the best ; 
 Though we saw many a farm and dome, 
 
 That pleased us in the west. 
 
203 
 
 We came in three days and a part, 
 Prom Bridgeport to our farm^ 
 
 Where now I feel a thankful heart. 
 That we escaped all harm. 
 
 We heard, at Richmond, all were well 
 At home, to us most dear, 
 
 Which in delightful accents fell 
 Upon the heart and ear. 
 
 But when to Eaton we had come^, 
 The news no pleasure gave, 
 
 That Dr. Harvey, far from home^ 
 Was in the silent grave ; 
 
 My cousin, and my constant friend, 
 Through many trials past, 
 
 Whose funeral I could not attend. 
 Nor see of him the last. 
 
 For those who had been thus hereavedj 
 
 Of one to them so dear, 
 My sympathizing bosom heaved 
 
 A sigh they could not hear. 
 
 Their loss, in solitude, they mourn, 
 
 Upon the Kansas shore, 
 And if they to this land return. 
 
 They see his grave no more. 
 
■ 204 
 
 One consolation, still, we have : 
 He died in that true faith, 
 
 Which points to bliss beyond the grave, 
 And triumphs over death. 
 
 The neighb'ring missionaries came 
 
 Fraternal tears to shed, 
 And the poor Indians did the same 
 
 In sorrow for the dead. 
 
 At such a place how souls unite. 
 Though under different names ; 
 
 And all, when they are aiming rightj 
 To good have ec[ual claims. 
 
 A solemn meeting first was held, 
 Where all could take a part, 
 
 And sympathetic drops distill'd. 
 From every feeling heart. 
 
 An Indian spoke in soothing strains, 
 Then silence fiU'd the room. 
 
 And they convey'd their friend's remains 
 To the cold, silent tomb. 
 
 A corner of the orchard ground, 
 
 Is now his resting place ; 
 Who felt himself in duty bound 
 
 To aid the Indian race. 
 
205 
 
 And thus, far in the west, is made 
 
 A consecrated spot, 
 Where other friends may yet be laid 
 
 Who find an equal lot. 
 1846. 
 
 LEATHER AND SHOES. • 
 
 It seems a poor subject, but my rustic muse 
 Has teased me to sing about " leather and shoes/' 
 'Till I have concluded it might be the best 
 To humor her, in such a simple request. 
 
 You know that the leather is, first, in " raw hides,'' 
 And all the large skins are cut up into " sides," 
 And yet every side has two sides of its own, 
 Unlike in their texture as cloth and whalebone ; 
 The tanners have call'd them "the flesh and the grain., 
 And of the distinction I shall not complain, 
 Yet there is a difference of more than one half, 
 Between the two sides of the skin of a calf; 
 And we will first tell how the tanners abuse 
 The skins that are made into leather and shoes. 
 
 The grain side, adapted to the growth of the hair, 
 
 Is porous and spungy and easy to tear ; 
 18 
 
206 
 
 The Qther, unlike it, is solid and tongb, 
 And, work'd as it should be, would be good enongli ; 
 But ladies and dandies love thin shoes so well, 
 The leather must suit them in order to sell ; 
 And dandies are numerous in this day of light,. 
 As crows in a cornfield, and shine just as bright ; 
 But, save the goat whiskers, that outshine the Jews, 
 The thing that shines brightest, is black on their shoes. 
 
 The tanners and curriers, to please a vain taste, 
 Must dress down their leather to a scandalous waste,. 
 And whether it be a good, thick, or thin hide. 
 They make it still thinner, upon the wrong side ; 
 The thicker is "kip," and the thinner is "calf," 
 And both, by the dressing, have lost the best half; 
 But give it a polish and make it to shine. 
 And fools care for nothing but so it looks fine, 
 But though it be such as the dandy would choose, 
 I want no such leather put into my shoes. 
 
 The whole of the process 't is needless to state — 
 You know upper leather is not sold by weight, 
 But sole leather is, and is always left thick, 
 With all the bark on it that chances to stick, 
 Aed yet the time has been when two pairs of soles 
 Were gone, while the " uppers " were yet without holes. 
 And now we all see how the case is reversed : 
 The first soles are good. when the vamp leathers burst; 
 
207 
 
 But men of good judgment should ever refuse 
 SucTi thin, rotten shavings, in leather or shoes. 
 
 Next comes the shoemaker, who makes it still worse. 
 
 And of the thin leather increases the curse : 
 
 The "last" should be nearly as broad as the foot, 
 
 And the "instep" proportion' d, the " measure" to suit, 
 
 Yet one is not chosen sufficiently wide. 
 
 And thus the vamp leathers upon either side 
 
 Must spread, with the pressure, out over the soles, 
 
 And in a few days they are worn full of holes ; 
 
 And yet our dear children cannot change their views. 
 
 Their feet may be broad, but they love narrow shoes. 
 
 A skin of great thickness cannot be best, 
 But one of good body and not overdress'd : 
 The thickest of calf skin, for men, may be right, 
 The thinnest, for women, is always too light. 
 Unless they should never set foot on the ground, 
 Except in warm weather, when dust may abound ; 
 Or wear overshoes of such texture and weight, 
 No water or dampness can them penetrate ; 
 Some die of consumption from corsets and screws, 
 Yet thousands more take it from wearing thin shoes. 
 
 I fault not the dresser, for making it nice. 
 But thin, flimsy leather -is not worth the price. 
 To shoes with broad toes no objection I see, 
 
• 208 
 
 But despise them so narrow, where they broadest should 
 
 And every shoemaker that follows the trade [be, 
 
 To make wider "bottoms " should not be afraid; 
 
 Then let every person that has a sore toe, 
 
 Tell " where the shoe pinches," if he 's sense to know, 
 
 And all of the tanners and shoemakers use 
 
 The means and the measures to furnish good shoes. 
 
 KECOLLECTIONS OF OTHER DAYS. 
 
 INSCRIBED TO ANN HADLEY, * OF INDIANA. 
 
 Dear cousin, it is in my thought 
 
 To write some simple lays. 
 Upon the scenes to memory brought, 
 
 Of long departed days. 
 
 Though circumstances fix'd our lot, 
 
 In places far apart, 
 That friendship cannot be forgot, 
 
 Which rises from the heart. 
 
 In early life it first begun. 
 
 Upon our native shore, 
 And, since through every change has run, 
 
 And but increased the more. 
 
 * Hef maiden name was Harvey. 
 
209 
 
 And seeing tliee again, renew'd 
 The tliouglit of happy scenes, 
 
 When we the pleasing sports pursued^ 
 Of childhood and our teens. 
 
 It is, no douht, remember' d well, 
 
 By thee, as yesterday. 
 How lightly, over hill and dell, 
 
 We rambled in our play. 
 
 Pick'd chinkopins, along the rills, 
 
 On Carolina's shore. 
 And huckle berries, on the hills 
 
 That we shall see no more. 
 
 This seems too childish ; — let it go 
 For what it may be worth, 
 
 For quite as trifling, and more so, 
 Are half the things of earth, 
 
 I still in veneration hold. 
 
 The hills and mossy rocks. 
 
 And all the scenery where of old, 
 Our fathers fed their flocks. 
 
 But in our childhood, coming here, 
 Transferr'd my simple theme 
 
 To things and scenes in memory dear, 
 On our adopted stream. 
 
 18* 
 
210 
 
 Where we built houses in the sand. 
 Like thousands at this day, 
 
 Whose works in speculation plann'd, 
 Are shortly swept away. 
 
 And where we pluck' d the native flowers, 
 
 Which all around us grew. 
 Unthinking that in after hours, 
 
 Such changes we should view. 
 
 On leisure days, or when our task 
 
 Of easy work was done, 
 We ranged the forests, or would bask 
 
 In the bright, shining sun, 
 
 That sent down many a warming beam, 
 Through openings in the trees, 
 
 Along the margin of the stream, 
 That saw our days of ease. 
 
 In innocence and sweet content. 
 
 Our childhood pass'd away, 
 And youth had little to repent. 
 
 Of base or wanton play. 
 
 But ! what changes we have seen, 
 
 Around our happy home, 
 Where, through the fields and forests greenj 
 
 So lightly we could roam. 
 
211 
 
 Another race is on tte ground, 
 Our worthy fathers clear' d, 
 
 And 1but few traces now are found, 
 Of all that first appear'd. 
 
 My father, and our uncle Hale, 
 Each tott'ring on his cane, 
 
 And destined, soon, from earth to fail, 
 Are all that now remain. 
 
 Of those who from an early choice. 
 Where Todd's Fork gently flows, 
 
 Soon made " the wilderness rejoice, 
 And blossom as the rose." 
 
 The rest have vanish'd from the land ; 
 
 Their sons are growing grey, 
 A few days more on earth to stand, 
 
 Then sink beneath the clay. 
 
 The forms of things are so much changed, 
 
 With the surviving race, 
 That where in early life we ranged, 
 
 We hardly know the place. 
 
 The bottom 's covered with papaws ; 
 
 The hills we rambled o'er ; 
 Our ample fields of grapes and haws, 
 
 Are seen as such no more. 
 
212 
 
 The old school house, where first we went, 
 
 Has sunk into decay ; 
 And still I give my feelings vent, 
 
 Whene'er I pass that way. 
 
 The ground looks natural, and each scene^ 
 
 I still in memory bear. 
 Yet few would know there e'er had been, 
 
 A quaker meeting there. 
 
 For sev'ral years, it was the place 
 Where all the Harveys went. 
 
 To hear and feel the prayer for grace, 
 Which to the throne was sent. 
 
 But such a house would now be thought 
 
 Almost too mean a place 
 For horses to a meeting brought, 
 
 In these progressive days. 
 
 These times of silk and fine broad cloth, 
 
 Of dandies and their mates, 
 And every thing that breeds the moth. 
 
 That eats up whole estates. 
 
 Though great improvements have been made^ 
 
 Yet, much that I despise, 
 In costly show and vain parade, 
 
 Still comes before my eyes. 
 
213 
 
 While rustic innocence and peace, 
 
 To otlier lands are fled ; 
 And we, from trouble find release, 
 
 But with the silent dead. 
 
 I know good houses are good things, 
 And a well order'd farm, . 
 
 Besides the stores of food it brings, 
 Has many a pleasing charm. 
 
 But rocks and hills, and ancient woods. 
 Are where the muses dwell; 
 
 And oft, in nature's solitudes 
 I bid the world farewell. 
 
 And though I still work on, and see 
 The corn around me grow. 
 
 The world has but few charms for me, 
 In all its fading show. 
 
 I still have seen the final end 
 
 Of most that we can do. 
 And things to make and things to mend. 
 
 Our labors still renew. 
 
 And yet, though long my lot has been, 
 To see much grief and care, 
 
 I still have pass'd each trying scene, 
 A stranger to despair. 
 
214 
 
 Then let me seek to live content. 
 And peaceful let me die ; 
 
 And wlio is there that need lament 
 For such a one as I ? 
 
 Now, in conclusion, — for my friend^ 
 And all that claim her care, — 
 That blessings, still, may them attend^ 
 
 Remains to be my prayer. 
 1848. 
 
 A HINT EOH THE MILLERITES. 
 
 Though Miller still keeps up his folly, 
 And frightens some to melancholy, 
 
 "With his terrific tales, 
 The sun and moon and planets still. 
 Their stated annual rounds fulfill, 
 
 And order still prevails. 
 
 Except among those foolish men. 
 Who listen to his tongue and pen. 
 
 Until they lose their wits ; 
 Then mourning over wasted wealth. 
 The loss of comfort and of health, 
 
 Go into crazy fits. 
 
215 
 
 It is a higli and daring crime, 
 For mortal man to state the time 
 
 Of a divine decree, 
 When Christ's own words so plainly show, 
 That neither men nor angels know 
 
 When such a time shall be. 
 
 What God has thus from man conceal' d, 
 In his own time will be reveal' d. 
 
 As suits his wisdom best ; 
 Without regard to Miller's rules, 
 Or the " ascension robes " of fools, 
 
 In Irish linen dress'd. 
 
 Then let each one his folly cease, 
 And humbly seek for that true peace, 
 
 Which heav'n alone bestows ; 
 And where bur duty may be plain, 
 Let all good works our aid obtain, 
 
 To liffhten others' woes. 
 
 TO THE MEMOEY OF THOMAS AUSTIN, 
 
 Here lies, below this grassy mound, 
 Cold in his native earth, 
 
216 
 
 A man beloved by all around, 
 
 Who knew his honest worth. 
 
 Through many years of trial past. 
 He acted well his part, 
 
 And for his virtues may be class'd. 
 With " the upright in heart," 
 
 As parent, friend, and christian toOj, 
 His memory is bless'd, 
 
 And with a better world in view^, 
 He calmly sunk to rest. 
 
 ON KEADINa SOME EXTEACTS 
 
 EROM THE NJEW YORK TRIBUNE. 
 
 Oe all the men who still are prating 
 About " the Birney party hating 
 The whigs more than the locofocos, 
 While their influence all for Polk goes," 
 No one appears in quite such high tune^ 
 As the conductor of the Tribune. 
 He has of angry talk a tissue, 
 " That Polk's election was the issue 
 Of the misguided party action, 
 Of the vile abolition faction, 
 
217 
 
 That anti- slavery strengtli was wasted, 
 And bitter fruit will yet be tasted." 
 But in despite of all tliis clatter, 
 The truth is quite another matter ; 
 The character of the whig leader 
 Made many a stay-at-home seeeder, 
 And his great speech in congress meeting, 
 And " Mendenhall petition " greeting, 
 Of which he boasted as the pure stuff, 
 Caused Polk to beat him sure enough. 
 The ball of freedom was in motion, 
 Unmoved by Clay or Polk devotion, 
 And of its course we kept the tenor. 
 With " truth and justice " for our banner, 
 And scorn' d to take upon our shoulders 
 " The best " or worst of two slaveholders, 
 And still are some respect commanding, 
 The great whig forgeries notwithstanding, 
 And with our lot shall be contented, 
 The Birney vote is not repented. 
 1844 
 
218 
 
 DESCRIPTION OF A METEOK. 
 
 In. an Tiiiruffled summer sky, 
 
 Just as the twilight ended, 
 A fiery meteor flash'd on high. 
 
 And toward the earth descended. 
 
 A whizzing noise went with the Maze, 
 
 Or in an instant follow'd, 
 But just as we "began to gaze, 
 
 It was in darkness swallow'd. 
 
 While its bright glare shed light around 
 
 It cleft the air asunder, 
 And was succeeded by a sound 
 
 Hesembling heavy thunder. 
 
 'Twas seen three hundred miles from here. 
 To the north east inclining, 
 
 And by some thousands, far and near, 
 With dazzling splendor sbining. 
 
 It's light was brighter than the moon, 
 When shining in her glory, 
 
 But lost its brilliancy so soon. 
 It claims no longer story. 
 
 Such things should make no one afraid. 
 
 But raise our admiration 
 Of the eternal power display' d,y 
 
 In wonders of creation. 
 
219 
 
 -MY OPINION OF AN ALBUM. 
 
 An album is a curious thing, 
 Fill'd up with rhymes and names 
 
 While some their tribute to it bring, 
 Some only state their claims. 
 
 The gay desire, the friendship dear, 
 
 Of those who look thereon, 
 While the afflicted claim a tear, 
 
 When they are dead and gone. 
 
 It should a book of record be 
 
 Of what is good and fair, 
 And naught bespeaking levity 
 
 Should be admitted there. 
 
 But words of soberness and truth 
 Should shine upon each page, 
 
 If they be written by the youth, 
 Or those advanced in age. 
 
 J'or time will be when all who write, 
 
 As well as those who read, 
 Must in one common lot unite, 
 
 Among the silent dead. 
 
220 
 
 LINES, FOR R. a. 
 
 At the request of a yoimg friend, 
 
 Upon an album's page, 
 These short and simple lines are pennN 
 
 By one advanced in age ; 
 
 Not taken from a printed book, 
 But from experience drawn. 
 
 And may'st thou live on them to look„ 
 When I am dead and gone. 
 
 My youthful days were free from care^ 
 And full of sport and fun, 
 
 But time to me did soon declare. 
 That pleasure's race was run. 
 
 The cares of life came on with weight. 
 
 My dear companion died. 
 And I beheld the empty state 
 
 Of vanity and pride. 
 
 Although I have some comfort stilly 
 
 The losses I have borne 
 Have sorely cross' d the human will, 
 
 And caused my heart to mourn. 
 
221 
 
 And I extort my youthful friends 
 To cherisli in tteir hearts 
 
 That good on which their bliss depends, 
 When earthly joy departs. 
 
 THE aARDEN. 
 
 I LOVE a garden clear of weeds, 
 
 Where flow'rs their beauty show, 
 
 And plants from well-assorted seeds. 
 In rich luxuriance grow. 
 
 An emblem of the human mind. 
 When under proper care ; 
 
 Where grace and science have combined, 
 The useful and the fair. 
 
 Where virtue's germs with vigor spring, 
 " And blossom as the rose," 
 
 Producing fruit like each good thing, 
 That in the garden grows. 
 
 Not like the flow'rs, to blight and fade, 
 And lose their early bloom, 
 
 But in the richest charms array' d, 
 To live beyond ,the tomb. 
 
222 
 
 ADVICE TO YOUJSra PERSONS. 
 
 Avoid the snares tbat lead to crimen 
 
 And virtue still pursue, 
 And let tHe vanities of time 
 
 Be tarnisli'd in your view. 
 
 Of decency, observe tlie rules, 
 
 And cleanliness applaud, 
 But pride, the common vice of fools^ 
 
 With costliness, avoid. 
 
 With industry perform the part 
 
 In life to you as sign' d, 
 In common cares, or works of art^ 
 
 Or labors of the mind. 
 
 In hours of leisure read such works 
 As may instruction bring, 
 
 But shun the deadly bane that lurks 
 In every novel thing. 
 
 To the afflicted still be kind, 
 
 And pity the poor slave ; 
 And may you the true riches find 
 
 Which last beyond the grave. 
 
223 
 
 TO E. ExiDLEY. 
 
 While tlie votaries of fashion 
 SportiDg on tlie stream of time, 
 
 With no other guide but passion, 
 Spend in vain, their youthful prime, 
 
 Thou, my friend, I hope, art choosing 
 Those true ornaments of youth, 
 
 Which are not destroy' d by using, 
 In the way of peace and truth ; 
 
 Which, through scenes the most distressing. 
 In this life may cheer the soul, 
 
 And remain its greatest blessing. 
 While eternal ages roll. 
 
 RESiaNATION. 
 
 FOR L. HADLEY. 
 
 We have to bear much grief and care. 
 While in this world we stay. 
 
 And life may seem but as a dream, 
 That passes soon away. 
 
224 
 
 Yet all is sent with good intent, 
 That Heaven for us ordains, 
 
 xlnd if resign'd, we soon may find 
 An end of all our pains. 
 
 The j)ure and holy, meek and lowly, 
 Ever bless'd Son of Grod, 
 
 For us the way to endless day. 
 
 Through pain and sorrow trod. 
 
 Then we should seek to be as meek, 
 As all his saints have been. 
 
 And in the end, with him ascend 
 Above this troubled scene. 
 
 FOU R. HADLEY. 
 
 Though now we to the earth are bound, 
 We feel a power yet stronger. 
 
 Which draws us toward the solemn sound, 
 Of " Time shall be no longer." 
 
 Then we in our few days should try 
 To make such preparation. 
 
 As may secure for us on high 
 The joys of God's salvation. 
 
225 
 
 If in this life our only hope 
 
 We from the world must borrow, 
 We for the soul can have no prop, 
 
 In times of pain and sorrow. 
 
 Lord ! grant us then such strength divine, 
 
 That sin may foil us never, 
 And let the glory all be thine, 
 
 Henceforward and forever. 
 
 FOE REBECCA ANN MILLER, 
 
 <5N THE DEATH OF HER MOTHER, ELEANOR ANN AUSTIN, 
 AND HER HUSBAND, JOSEPH H. MILLER. 
 
 The trees are in the yellow leaf, 
 
 The flowers have lost their bloom. 
 
 And all appears to me in grief, 
 As lonely as the tomb. 
 
 Just when the glories of the year, 
 
 Began to pass away, 
 My mother and my husband dear 
 
 Were laid in silent clay. 
 
 It has the sorest trial proved, 
 That I have ever borne, 
 
226 
 
 Since for tliese two most dearly loved, 
 I have been call'd to mourn. 
 
 And yet I sorrow not as one 
 
 Whose faith and hope are gone. 
 
 The brightness of their setting sun, 
 Presaged a glorious dawn 
 
 Of life immortal in that bliss, 
 Of which no tongue can tell, 
 
 In a far better world than this, 
 Where all the ransom' d dwello 
 
 A mother worthy of my love, 
 My stay in tender years, 
 
 For mansions in the realms above, 
 Has left this vale of tears. 
 
 And my dear partner in his prime 
 Has yielded up his soul. 
 
 For joys beyond the things of time. 
 While years eternal roll. 
 
 Then may I be prepared to meet 
 Them on that happy shore, 
 Where kindred souls each other greet. 
 And parting is no more. 
 1846. 
 
227 
 TO THE MEMORY OE ELEANOR A. AUSTIN, 
 
 CONSORT OF THE LATE THOMAS AUSTIN, 
 
 Those who as pious cbristians livOj 
 
 Become prepared to die, 
 And an immortal crown receive, 
 
 Among the saints on high. 
 
 And she whose body now lies cold, 
 
 Beneath the turf she trod. 
 Lived in the faith that christians hold. 
 
 And died in peace with God. » 
 
 As mother, sister, friend, and wife^ 
 
 Her bright example shed 
 A luster that adorn' d her life, 
 
 And lives since she is dead, 
 1846. 
 
 A MEMENTO. 
 
 As spring and summer are withdrawn, 
 And autumn now is here, 
 
 "When youth and middle age are gone, 
 Old age and death are near. 
 
228 
 
 The frosts of autumn quickly blast 
 
 The things through summer green, 
 
 And gloomy winter comes at last, 
 And finishes the scene. 
 
 We are allow' d no time to spend, 
 
 In great or little sins ; 
 For time is short, and at the end 
 
 Eternity begins. 
 
 FOR MARY ANN, 
 
 •DAUGHTER OF THE AUTHOR, WHEN ABOUT TO LEAVE HER 
 father's HOUSE, TO SETTLE WITH HER HUSBAND, .IN 
 INDIANA. 
 
 Farewell, dear daughter ! it is true, 
 
 That we ere long must part. 
 And thou must bid the friends adieu. 
 
 Once dearest to thy heart. 
 
 And oft in retrospective thought. 
 
 Thy mind will hither stray. 
 And dwell on scenes to memory brought. 
 
 Long past and far away. 
 
229 
 
 Yet hoping in the present ease, 
 The change is for the best^^ 
 
 ThoTi wilt but move thy dwelling place 
 A little further west. 
 
 And other objects of thy care 
 May there thy mind employ, 
 
 And other friends with thee must share 
 In scenes of grief and joj. 
 
 Then may for thee a parent's prayer 
 Be blest with what I crave. 
 
 Content and peace through scenes of care^ 
 And bHss beyond the grave, 
 1846. 
 
 TO THE MEMORY OF JAMES HARRIS, ESQ. 
 
 OE CLINTON COUNTY, OHIO. 
 
 Another of the farmer pioneers, 
 
 Who clear'd the forests of the mighty west. 
 Is gone, in full maturity of years, 
 
 Eorevermore, from all his works to rest. 
 
 He reach' d the term of '-'three score years and teii," 
 An age that now can be by few attain' d^ 
 
230 
 
 And throiigli tliat time, among Ms fellow men, 
 Due honor for Ms moral virtues gain'd. 
 
 Long tried in offices of public trust. 
 
 The principles that govern'd him were wise, 
 ^ And his decisions all so fair and just, 
 No controversy out of them could rise. 
 
 As husband, father, and the poor man's friend, 
 The tears of sorrow to his memory shed 
 
 Attest much better than the notice penn'd. 
 The living virtues of the honor' d dead. 
 
 1847. 
 
 THE CLOSE OF THE YEAE. 
 
 WRITTEN DURING A SNOW STORM. 
 
 The year is drawing to a close, 
 A frowning sky is o'er us, 
 
 And winter, with his winds and snows, 
 In stormy rage before us. 
 
 How sadly chang'd is every thing, 
 
 That once could give us pleasure ; 
 
 From the first charms of early spring,. 
 To autumn's latest treasure. 
 
231 
 
 No birds are singing on tlie trees ; . 
 
 The time of flowers is over ; 
 And silent all tlie hum of bees, 
 
 Among the fragrant clover. 
 
 Instead of grain fields shining bright, 
 
 In golden waves before us, 
 A funeral shroud, of snowy white. 
 
 Enwraps aU nature's glories. 
 
 And like the things through summer green. 
 And with the earth now blending, 
 
 Toward an eternal closing scene, 
 We all are swiftly tending. 
 
 Then may it be our lot, when time 
 Our life from earth shall sever, 
 
 To find a pure and happy clime. 
 Where beauty reigns forever. 
 
 1847. 
 
 THINGS THAT I FAULT AMONG ABOLL 
 TIONISTS. 
 
 We have no friends of slavery here^ 
 Yet anti- slavery men 
 
232 
 
 Are, in some instances, severoj 
 
 Botli with tlie tongue and pen. 
 
 They deprecate all lawless force, 
 Yet in hard names indulge, 
 
 And think they only by this coursey 
 Can the whole truth divulge. 
 
 " Friends, and religious bodies all," 
 Are class'd with noxious trash, 
 
 On which they wish their bolts to fallj 
 And " tear it all to smash." 
 
 " A common brotherhood of thieves^ 
 
 As base as prostitutes. 
 Or those who deal in men like beeves, 
 
 And treat them worse than brutes." 
 
 And while by evil names they call 
 Professors worse than knaves. 
 
 They seem to think the church's fall^ 
 Would liberate the slaves. 
 
 And all must gape, while many a low 
 
 And self-conceited clown 
 The bolts of fools at random throw, 
 
 " To break the evil down." 
 
 I stand to all that I have said 
 Or written in times past. 
 
233 
 
 And tliink that I, upon tliis head, 
 Need not with thieves be class'd. 
 
 Yet hundreds, better far than I, 
 
 According to their views, 
 Should under heavy pressure lie 
 
 From abolition screws. 
 
 Though all professors be not right, 
 
 Nor acting as they should, 
 Yet anti- christian slang, or spite, 
 • Cannot accomplish good. 
 
 In vain our lecturers may seek 
 To make the churches wise. 
 
 If the admitted truths they speak 
 Are jumbled up with lies. 
 
 And some of them such stretches make, 
 
 As would induce belief 
 That they were wi^ong in what they spake, 
 
 Ox every man a thief. 
 
 Who wiU not come into their views, 
 Up to the mark they chalk. 
 
 And justify their coarse abuse. 
 And worse than idle talk. 
 
 And yet the slave has honest friends 
 Among the moving throng, 
 20 
 
234 
 
 Who only act for noble ends, 
 
 From motives pure and strong. 
 
 And may tliis cause of justice still , 
 Have faithful advocates, 
 
 And all the wishes soon fulfill, 
 Of thousands in these states. 
 
 When slavery, with its countless train 
 Of human woes, shall cease, 
 
 And universal freedom reign 
 In triumph and in peace. 
 
 TO E. AND D. HOBBS, OF INDIANA. 
 
 At Deborah's request my pen I take, 
 A few remarks on several things to make ; 
 My business now allows but little time, 
 For me to write a tedious string in rhyme. 
 And •■' short and sweet " is what I cannot do. 
 It always takes a while to bring me through. 
 In former days I entertain'd some hope. 
 That I might rival Alexander Pope, 
 Or Cowper, Dryden, Addison, or Young, 
 Or some of the best bards that ever sung; 
 
235 
 
 But these vain notions, and my yoiitliful pride, ' 
 
 Have in advancing years been laid aside ; 
 
 I strive to imitate no poet's art, 
 
 But to express the feelings of my heart, 
 
 I fear no censure, no applause I ask, 
 
 While I endeavor to perform my task. 
 
 Your relatives, who in this country dwell. 
 Are now in health as far as I can tell, 
 And some of them I trust are doing all 
 For which their int'rest and their duty eallo 
 We still have had enough to eat and wear, 
 But present prospects are not very fair ; 
 The wheat is light, and backward is the corn, 
 But we have never been of hope forlorn, 
 And ought to feel more thankfulness of heart, 
 For all the blessings heaven and earth impart, 
 And our misfortunes should with patience bear, 
 Though some are struggling with a load of care 
 From diff 'rent causes many are involved, 
 But to be wiser have from hence resolved, 
 And I have hope that in each trying case, 
 We all may get along without disgrace. 
 And that our children may a lesson learn, 
 Which will in time to their advantage turn. 
 Our greatest money craving at this day 
 Is for enough our honest debts to pay. 
 And still some things elicit our regard, 
 Which may we trust yet bring a rich reward; 
 
236 
 
 Not to ourselves in our remaining days, 
 But in the future good of all our race, 
 When slavery with its train of evils ends. 
 And human freedom o'er the world extends ; 
 This subject now is the absorbing theme. 
 Awake we talk, and when asleep we dream ; 
 Opinions vary but the end the same, 
 To free the country from a sin and shame. 
 
 The school at Harveysburg has been sustain'd, 
 And through the country has some credit gain'd ; 
 'Tis an advantage to our little town, 
 Though some are wishing that it might go down. 
 I feel a secret joy to hear the bell, 
 Which long I hope may of its being tell, 
 And still continue there to hang and ring, 
 When my poor feeble muse shall cease to sing ; 
 'Tis not because I love the bell to hear, 
 But that the subject to my heart is dear. 
 The opposition which it long withstood 
 Has mostly terminated for its good. 
 Yet some their children to it will not send. 
 Because its founder is the negro's friend ; 
 A color' d school exists so near the white, 
 They have a notion all cannot be right; 
 " Some abolition bears a little sway. 
 And that won't do in this enlighten'd day, 
 For this to an equality would tend. 
 Which in disgrace to all the whites would end ; 
 
237 
 
 Black men, of course, would wliite companions choose, 
 And our fail' daughters could not well refuse. 
 
 While thus they try our ohject to defeat, 
 They think the triumph of their wit complete, 
 But still I think some of their arguments 
 Have no foundation in good sober sense. 
 
 Some of our friends their patronage refused, 
 Because the house by lecturers was used, 
 From liberty which Dr. Harvey gave, 
 To plead the cause of the afflicted slave ; 
 But now a meeting house is occupied, 
 And in this case we are no longer tried. 
 
 Most friends just here are friendly to the cause^ 
 But will not break the yearly meeting's laws, 
 This brings me to a thing which I proposed 
 To write some thoughts upon before I closed; 
 Some think that we cannot befriend the slave, 
 Unless we spurn advice the meeting gave ; 
 But such a thing, according to my mind, 
 Was never on the part of friends design'd, 
 That we should cease to act in every way, 
 The meeting's rules in order to obey. 
 But that we only cease to act with those 
 Who do not with our other doctrines close, — 
 That we may stand on our own christian ground, 
 Against the sins which in the world abound : 
 Intemp'rance, slavery, dueling, and war. 
 And all those things that an ti- christian are. 
 
238 
 
 To move witli firm and cautious steps along, 
 Clear of excitement and tlie bustling throng ; 
 While ev'ry proper measure we embrace, 
 To aid the cause of Afric's injured race, 
 And of no other testimony make, 
 A compromise for abolition's sake. 
 
 Can our united voice produce no good, 
 Unless we act with a mix'd multitude, 
 Embracing both professors and profane. 
 Whose lectures often are too light and vain. 
 We know that many pious christians stand, 
 Enlisted in this cause throughout the land. 
 And while we wish them well in what they do. 
 We are not bound their courses to pursue. 
 More than to worship with all other sects, 
 Who hold such views as ours, in some respects, 
 But still such diff 'rent rules and creeds maintain, 
 A hope of harmony would be in vain. 
 And I am sorry that some valued friends 
 Have left the church for anti- slavery ends : 
 No good to them, I think, will from it flow, 
 Nor one day sooner end the bondman's woe; 
 They now may help to circulate some tracts, 
 And freely vote for anti-slavery acts, 
 But this can do no more in common sense 
 Than we may do with our own documents ; 
 Such as have to the public been display'd. 
 Against home slavery and the foreign trade, 
 
239 
 
 And we may all, wlien at the voting place 
 
 Act as one would in any otlier case. 
 
 Tlie riglit of suffrage is to us as free 
 
 As it can to tlie separatists be ; 
 
 Pear old Charles Osborn should our pity claim, 
 
 And none of them we should too rashly blame, 
 
 But lead them out of error if we can, 
 
 And all stand upright for the rights of man. 
 
 There are still some with us, and not a few, 
 
 Whose views are wrong of what we ought to do ; 
 
 And to all such we should no favor show, 
 
 Beyond the bounds that truth and justice know ; 
 
 For a pro-slavery quaker is a shame 
 
 To a profession of the christian name ; 
 
 And from my heart I hope that there are none 
 
 Who go as far as others long have done ; 
 
 But some have too much of that selfish pride, 
 
 Which has to color'd men some rights denied. 
 
 And of that policy which " wants no fuss. 
 
 We have no slaves and they don't trouble us;" 
 
 And some, no better yet, abruptly say, 
 
 " If they are freed they must be sent away ; 
 
 Or black and white so mix'd in time will be, 
 
 That we can none but yellow faces see." 
 
 But now such sentiments are in bad grace. 
 
 And a progressive change is taking place. 
 
 And when we turn to the West Indian shores, 
 
 A stream of light upon our vision pours, 
 
240 
 
 Whicli gives us courage onward to proceed, 
 
 Until we consummate tlie glorious deed. 
 
 And I have hoped that Friends would stand upright. 
 
 And in this cause of righteousness unite, 
 
 To follow in the path that Woolman trod, 
 
 And leave the consequences all to God. 
 
 Perhaps your patience by this time is tired, 
 But I have written what the muse inspired, 
 And to some other subjects now proceed — 
 If I have time to write, you have to read. 
 
 Our governor (from clemency I hope) 
 Has saved John Andrews * from the hangman's rope, 
 And he is to the penitentiary sent, 
 Yf here of his wicked deed he may repent, 
 Or be prevented from such murd'rous strife, 
 Confined, at labor, to the end of life. 
 The governor, I think, deserves some praise. 
 And has received it in the present case; 
 Yet some were mad, who strongly wish'd to see 
 A negro hang upon the gallows tree, 
 And being disappointed of their fun. 
 They cursed and swore because it was not done. 
 ! why should human hearts be so depraved. 
 That such a horrid sight by them was craved? 
 
 Although my limits I have gone beyond, 
 
 * A black man condemned to be iiungin this county, on the 
 16th of the present month, for murder. 
 
241 
 
 To Delborali's request I must respond, 
 And a few words on tlie woolpicking say, 
 Made at her brother's house one rainy day. 
 Her friends and relatives collected there. 
 In social converse for a while to share, 
 The house of female visitants was full, 
 And while the talk went on they pick'd the wool, 
 And when the evening shades had nearly come. 
 The husbands came to take their spouses home. 
 To see so many of her friends and kin, 
 A source of pleasure to her must have been, 
 And now may be a cause of solemn thought, 
 When the reflection to her mind is brought, 
 That all whom then she saw and loved before, 
 In such a circle may convene no more. 
 That some of them, before a jenr goes by. 
 In death's embrace may cold and silent lie, 
 Or if the most of them again should meet, 
 It may not be in conversation sweet, 
 But when the solemn funeral they attend, 
 Of some dear relative or worthy friend ; 
 But we should still be cheerful while we can, 
 For a mix'd cup must be the lot of man. 
 I miss my poor Elias from each place, 
 Where he had work'd with me in former days ; 
 He has been gone from home almost a year, 
 But still his works upon the farm appear; 
 I work'd to day where he had placed manure, 
 
^ 242 
 
 A crop of watermelons to insure ; 
 The corn is flourisliing where it was spread, 
 But he is number'd with the silent dead. 
 The sad reflection often fills my heart, 
 
 ! why did the poor youth from home depart, 
 And leave the joys and comforts which it gave. 
 For an untimely death and distant grave! 
 The faithful dog, which travel'd by his side, 
 And still stuck with him till he stopp'd and died, 
 Is now at home, and a memento stands 
 
 Of his young master's fate in distant lands; 
 But grief is vain and all the tears that fall, 
 Can never from the grave the dead recall, 
 Yet active fancy often to our view. 
 Brings fresh the features of the friends we knew. 
 Which adds but to the grief we felt before. 
 For they are dead and gone fore verm ore. 
 
 1 have of care and sorrow seen enough, 
 To show me that the path of life is rough, 
 And that the only way in safety trod, 
 
 Is that which leads the soul to peace with God, 
 And that this peace may be your happy lot, 
 In earthly treasure whether rich or not, 
 While health and comfort on your lives attend^ 
 Is the desire of your well-wishing friend, 
 1843. 
 
243 
 A EECAPITULATION 
 
 OF PAST MISFORTUNES AND PRESENT FAYORS. 
 
 Though the rememlbrance often wounds my heart, 
 
 Of a dear wife with whom I had to part, 
 
 And other losses of a trifling weight. 
 
 Had some effect to lesson my estate, 
 
 Yet ample cause of thankfulness remains, 
 
 For present favors which reward my pains. 
 
 Blest with a loving and beloved wife. 
 
 To soothe my cares and share the toils of life, 
 
 With a sweet, smiling habe upon her knee, 
 
 And all the family from sickness free. 
 
 My life, which at this time three years ago, 
 
 Seem'd but a scene of wretchedness and woe 
 
 Now mostly in an even tenor goes. 
 
 And from the joys of home contentment flows. 
 
 But when I think how swiftly time doth fly, 
 
 1 hear the sentence that I soon must die, 
 
 And all the pleasures of this world forego, 
 
 For an immortal state in bliss or woe. 
 
 Three years and near five months have pass'd away. 
 Since my dear Lydia was consign' d to clay ; 
 And eighteen months have gone with rapid pace. 
 Since dear Mahala came to take her place. 
 Although two winters since have pass'd away. 
 It seems no longer than but yesterday ; 
 And having learn'd from things already pass'd. 
 That earthly joys are not destined to last, 
 I entertain but little confidence 
 
V 
 
 244 
 
 In human pleasures and the joys of sense ; 
 
 For time in the same manner pass'd before 
 
 My first companion conld be here no more ; 
 
 And when my earthly bliss was thus destroy' d, 
 
 Within my heart it left a mighty void ; 
 
 For want of more of that celestial grace, 
 
 Which from the earth a wounded heart could raise^ 
 
 Until through mercy I became resign' d, 
 
 And from affliction some relief did find, 
 
 And the affection of a second wife, 
 
 Restored the bx jssing of a cheerful life, 
 
 For which I wish to feel a thankful heart, 
 
 Until by death we shall be doom'd to part. 
 
 It is our portion through life's mazy dance, 
 
 To live as well as we may have the chance, 
 
 If we do not abuse the blessings given, 
 
 From the rich bounty of a gracious Heaven. 
 
 And while we set a value, as we should. 
 
 On our possessions and all temp'ral good, 
 
 We should not let them have the foremost place 
 
 Within our hearts, instead of Heav'nly grace, 
 
 For every " perfect gift is from above," 
 
 And claims for God the tribute of our love. 
 
 And if for trash we miss the good Supreme, \ • 
 
 Our bliss at death will vanish like a dream, ^' \. 
 
 x\nd in a future state eternal pain, * V 
 
 Reward a life of pleasure spent in vain, 
 
 Which I would wish might never be the case, 
 
 With any beiog of the human race. 
 

 
 
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