m 
 
 
 tMl'* r-.' M_iLiA*£iiiij 
 
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 
 
 PS 2^^^ 
 
 ©I|ati Oatt^nB^ fa 
 
 UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 
 
%^Uxk)^jUD VK-'^Wu^ 
 
POEMS, 
 
 RHYMESandVERSES, 
 
 -BY- 
 
 ^/ 
 
 ^ 3 MAURICE MCKENNA, 
 
 FOND DU LAC, WIS.: 
 
 SPENCER PALMER, PRINTER. 
 
 1890. 
 
Mr 
 
 Copyright, 1890, by 
 MAURICE McKENNA. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 The Pioneer - - - - - 13 
 
 Irena's Lesson - - _ _ . 54 
 
 Horatio's History - - - - 118 
 
 Elva Lee . - . . ... igQ 
 
 Melcha's Mission ... . . 223 
 
 Intemperance - - - - - 267 
 
 The Slave's Revenge - - - - 308 
 
 The Picture that Hangs on the Wall - 318 
 
 The Nation's Deeender - - - 320 
 
 There is Crape upon the Door - - 324 
 
 Pride ...... 330 
 
 The Transformation - - - - 335 
 
 Lines at a Cyprian's Grave - - 338 
 
 The Painting - - - - - 343 
 
 Carrier's Address for 1869-70 - - 344 
 
 Lake De Nevue - - - - 354 
 
 The Last Woman - . - . . 35(3 
 
 The Excursion . . . . . 362 
 
 Lines to a Lady . . . . . 330 
 
 My Truant Mustache - - - 381 
 
 Two Histories . - - . . 333 
 
8 contents. 
 
 On a Robin Shot Near its Nest - - - 385 
 
 James Wiseman Carney - - - 388 
 
 Evanescexce - - - - - . - 389 
 
 To a Sister's Memory - - - - 391 
 
 Mrs. Fannie Crowe - .... 39(3 
 
 Mrs. Annie E. McKenna .... 399 
 
 George Hardgrove - - - - 402 
 
 J. H. HoBART Brown - - - 404 
 
 Allie Crawford ... - - 405 
 
 Gen. Thomas F. Meagher - - - 408 
 
 Mary Jane SxMIth - - - - - 410 
 
 Col. Sumner L. Brasted - - - 412 
 
 Michael G. Nash - - - - - 414 
 
 Anna Wall - ... - 4I6 
 
 Joseph Crele - - - - - 418 
 
 Genethliac - ... - - 422 
 
 Minnie Baker - ' 430 
 
 New Year's Wish ..... 433 
 
 Washington Rink - - - - - 437 
 
 My Dead Comrade - - - - 440 
 
 Our Old High School in 'G1 - - - 444 
 
 To James Bowe, Esq. - - - - 448 
 
 Celia - - - - - - 451 
 
 No More ... - - 452 
 
 The Private Soldier - - - - 455 
 
 Thomas F. McKenna - - - - - 458 
 
 Calvary Cemetry . . . . . 461 
 
 One Hundred Years 463 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 Tlie large majority of tlie following compositions, — 
 all of thinn in fact, — except occasional oljituary lines, 
 and some short ctforts of similar character, liave been 
 completed more than twenty years ago. They were 
 written at a period in the author's life, before he had yet 
 entered upon its stern realities, and when he was still 
 undecided what calling, among the men and women of 
 his own generation, he should pursue, to obtain for him- 
 self an honorable livelihood, and, at the same time, 
 accomplish something which should command, e\en 
 though in a slight degree, their good opinion and esteem. 
 
 One of them has been already published in book form 
 and a few others in periodicals of various places, times, 
 and descriptions. The controlling motive of their publi- 
 cation now is to preserve, in some more tangible form 
 than the mutilated pages of a scrap-book, or in .scattered 
 manuscripts, these children of his fancy of the long ago. 
 
 Their composition required some labor, but, to the 
 writer, it was an occupation which amounted to a pas- 
 time, — a labor, indeed, of love —and, in many instances 
 
10 AUTiloK's I'RKFAC'E. 
 
 \uH Hole consolation in surroundings of sadness and dis- 
 couragement, and his comfort and companion in many 
 a solitary and despondent hour. It is hut a natural 
 desire on his part to perpetuate them in some perma- 
 nent form, — at least so long as it pleases Providence 
 that his own life should he spared, — that, haply, at some 
 future times, wlien oj^portunity permits, and inclination 
 prompts, he may turn aside, from his zealous and exact- 
 ing mistress of the law, to those early recollections, and 
 hallowed incidents of the past, which, for him, they en- 
 kindle and recall. 
 
 Lookino- hack from the noondav of an all too check- 
 ered life to the time these lines were chiefiy written, 
 the author believes he has achieved some successes, 
 professionally and otherwise, amon.g his fellow men. 
 He has enjoyed some triuni])hs, has tasted deeply of 
 disappointment and adversity, and experienced many 
 keen and bitter humiliations. He has known and felt 
 the inspiring influence of disinterested friendship and 
 christian forljearance — of men as well as women — far 
 beyond his deserts ; and after all that he has felt, enjoy- 
 ed, and suffered, and, when so many opportunities of 
 his life are irrevocaljly passed, he can now regretfully 
 see how it could liave been amended and its usefulness 
 extended and improved. The following stanzas, on some 
 of those occasions, reflect his feelings, and, for this reason, 
 if for no other, remain endeared among the varying 
 experiences and reminiscences of his life. 
 
author's preface. 11 
 
 Some of the minor pieces and obituary notices are 
 inserted here, not because of any particular merit they 
 are beheved to possess, but because they awaken liallow- 
 ed recollections of scenes and friends that have passed 
 from the stage of life forever. 
 
 This volume is pu])lished, not, in the hope, nor, even 
 with the purpose, of seeking, or obtaining, any pecuniary 
 reward, nor in ihe belief that it will secure to the author 
 any general or very extended fame ; although he avow- 
 edly looks forward to the pleasing possibility that, in 
 years to come, some congenial eye may look its pages 
 over and find, perchance, therein some sentiment that 
 honors the writer's memory, when all other more arduous, 
 pretentious, and temporary, labors, and toils, and suc- 
 cesses, and adversities, of his life, — nay, even himself, 
 may be well-nigh forgotten. 
 
 Such as they are, he submits them to the candid judg- 
 ment of an impartial world, — confident that, in the end, 
 they will be justly dealt with, irrespective of whether 
 that justice shall meet condemnation, or challenge com- 
 pliments, to him ; and, with no other ceremony, parade, 
 excuse, or tinsel, than these few statements, here set 
 down in sincerity and truth, — almost indifferently to the 
 writer, and, certainly, with no vain-glorious, self-conceited, 
 or egotistic, spirit, they are launched upon the sea of 
 literature, to steer what course, and find what port, they 
 may. 
 Fond du Lac, Wis., Feb. 25th, 1888. 
 
THE PIONEER. 
 
 Fair friends, retire we here awhile 
 . Before the coal fire glow, 
 Reverting with a thoughtful smile 
 To some old tale of love and guile, 
 
 A thousand years ago. 
 Yes, there were men and women then. 
 
 Like men and women now ; 
 Far back, almost beyond our ken, 
 The ring-dove cooed in grove and glen. 
 Let narrative trim green again 
 
 The plumage round her brow. 
 
 Suffice it thai those years are gone 
 • In which they lived and died. 
 And free be time to canter on : 
 'Cold death has given to many a one 
 
14 THE PIONEER. 
 
 The warmtli that hfe denied. 
 In that vague harbor where they He 
 
 One day must we reef sail, 
 And wlien our season comes to die 
 It will be proper, by and by, 
 For some to laugh and some to cry ; 
 
 But now we troll a tale. 
 
 Blue stillness smiled on ocean's rocks, 
 
 A maiden false and free, 
 She skimmed the sky of its dark flocks 
 And clipped tlie foamy silver locks 
 
 From the Samson of the sea ; 
 ' The winds resigned their shrewish sway, 
 
 The tempest reel was o'er. 
 The very thought of sound was gray, 
 And the sun led out the steed of day. 
 As the wanderer plied his lonely way 
 
 On a far and stranger shore. 
 
 To heaven no l)illow did belong 
 
 Where a whisper's hull might float ; 
 
 Throughout the forest plumage throngs 
 
 Each bright bird hung his robe of song; 
 In the parlor of his throat. 
 
 The trance of summer overspread 
 Each mountain, vale, and linn ; 
 
 The June-beams lacked no solar bread. 
 
THE PIONEER. 15 
 
 P)iit the old man's heart was full of lead, — 
 December on his palsied head, 
 And its snow-flakes on his chin. 
 
 The bushes and the courtesying brake 
 
 Were overflown with joy, 
 The frisking bee and basking snake ; 
 The sapling hanging in the lake 
 
 A thoughtless timber boy. 
 The insect in its shelly cage 
 
 Confessed no glum control, 
 But this weak exile could not guage 
 His own stift' limbs with their rash rage, 
 For the stormy, frosty, blast of age 
 
 Was whistling through his soul. 
 
 1 saw him cast a lonely look 
 
 On a melancholy rhyme 
 In the last leaf of a lidless book, 
 As he trembled on the bearded hook 
 
 Of the fisherman of time. 
 As soft it trickled o'er the ear 
 
 Of each unguarded thought, 
 A broken list is scheduled here. 
 From his dark bosom, sad, sincere, 
 Each sentence pointed with a tear, 
 
 A slow deliverance sought. 
 
16 THE PIONEER. 
 
 " Yes; r have lived, my life has flown 
 
 Like a dew-drop in July, 
 My days are rusted to the bone, 
 And loneliness has hewn a throne 
 
 In the ashes of mine eye. 
 .V weary hermit, many a day 
 
 Was worn in whims and feuds, 
 Since tirst I stalked its ledgy way 
 When my ambition in its May 
 Essayed with medial powers to sway 
 
 These primal solitudes. 
 
 " Haught, giant-armed, inflexile, trees 
 
 Were feathered with green quills 
 When first I kissed their knotty knees 
 But time has eaten by degrees 
 
 The mammoths of the hills. 
 Some rustic plowman has been fast 
 
 With his relentless share ; 
 Fair maidens of the forest va>st. 
 Shorn of their summer silk, he cast 
 Where his capriciousness amassed 
 
 Destruction here and there. 
 
 "Still I remain an uncalked oak, 
 
 A raveled fract of twine, 
 My burned out heart, a lump of coke 
 Asleep in the ungilded cloak 
 
THE PIONEER. 17 
 
 Of hope's deceptive shine. 
 The winds strip nnde tlie wooden isles 
 
 Of dell and monntain peak, 
 Yet spring renews their leafv tiles, 
 But no impartial month beguiles 
 The foliage l)ack of those fresh smiles 
 
 Long faded from my cheek. 
 
 " The axles of my dreams are worn 
 
 To service insecure, 
 The fal)ric of my manhood torn. 
 And fond expectance rudely shorn 
 
 Of all its fleecy lure : 
 The frame, in which my soul is set, 
 
 Is dozy grown and gray, 
 The gilt that once encased it yet 
 Betrays its ancient alphabet. 
 But those rich symbols soon forget- 
 
 Their lineage of clay. 
 
 " And here I am, a lonely man 
 
 Far from my boyhood home, 
 The guide star of a timorous van. 
 Fenced from the fellows of my clan 
 
 By a thousand leagues of foam ; 
 The title of my meek abode, 
 
 Unknighted and unearled. 
 With often a suggestive goad. 
 
18 THE PIONEER. 
 
 And more that one coquettish node, 
 Like (kist along an August road, 
 Is sifted round the world. 
 
 " How often do I fancy still 
 
 To play the bumpkin games 
 That occupied my life, until 
 Care's reservoir began to fill 
 
 AVith more unhoneyed claims. 
 I climb again the snowy steep 
 
 Of Iceland's chilly mound ; 
 Unmindful now, as then, to keep 
 A shepherd's glance on those stray sheep 
 Who chew the cud of death, asleep 
 
 In monumental ground. 
 
 " O icy world ! thou canst not boast 
 
 Thou has Ijefriended me. 
 What most I treasured cheated most 
 My every vessel on the coast 
 
 Of smooth prosperity. 
 I little have to thank thee for 
 
 In the circlet of my years ; 
 Unceasing, solitary, war 
 With all I love, dej)lore, abhor. 
 Complete the debt all-ruling Thor 
 
 Can charge to my arrears. 
 
THE PIONEER. 19 
 
 " Adown the drift of time's wild bay 
 
 I linger still to float ; 
 The bond against my life is gray, 
 And soon must come the hour to pay 
 
 The promissory note. 
 Ah ! I am dight this many a year 
 
 To cancel that poor claim : 
 A few frail gasps, perchance a tear. 
 The sole possession I have here. 
 Not e'en the mockery of a bier 
 
 Shall comfort this old frame. 
 
 " There was a point in other days 
 
 When lofty hopes were mine ; 
 I ^vas not fain to shun the gaze, 
 Of Adam-kind in the l)road l)laze 
 
 (3f youth's solstitial line : 
 And I had reason for the pride 
 
 I sowed along my brow ; 
 Through all my country far and wide, 
 Few peers there were who cared to chide ■ 
 My vanities in their rash tide, 
 
 So torn and humble now. 
 
 " No blither laugh was heard among 
 
 The comrades of my youth, 
 No brusquer heart, or suppler tongue, 
 Or gayer string, was ever strung 
 
20 THE PIONEER. 
 
 To the tenor key of truth. 
 And I had deemed, wlien pleasure's press 
 
 Would give me time for tliought, 
 No greater dole of luip})iiiess 
 Descended on our vales to bless 
 A human mortal ; ne'ertheless 
 
 New conquest fields were sought. 
 
 " That was a precious flower that bloomed 
 
 'Mid Iceland's chilly hills. 
 The atmosphere the l)lo\v perfunied 
 Entranced my taste, and I presumed 
 
 To steal it from its rills. 
 A rich addition, I conceived, 
 
 Were added to my bliss. 
 Could I secure what 1 believed 
 No brave adventurer e'er achieved 
 In all he doomed, forgave, reprieved, 
 
 From Eden down till this. 
 
 " Divine Thurida ! thou wert all 
 That fancy's self could build ; 
 
 A thousand gallants owned thy thrall, 
 
 A thousand gathered at thy call 
 Where'er thy scepter willed. 
 
 Thy spotless beauty shamed the fleece 
 Of the whitest in the flocks ; 
 
 Thy coquetry and thy caprice 
 
THE PIONEER. 21 
 
 Effected many a sheer release 
 Of ripe content and summer peace 
 From Iceland's sons and rocks. 
 
 "But seldom nature's powers create 
 
 A gem so fair to see : 
 An angel peeping through the gate 
 Of paradise might imitate 
 
 New grace fi'om such as thee. 
 No eye that ever saw thee said 
 
 They ever saw thy peer ; 
 A richer crown hung on thy head. 
 Than fortune's favors ever shed 
 On any devotee still wed 
 
 To fancy's blind career. 
 
 "Thurida ! there is music in the word, 
 
 That thrilled me when a boy : 
 How often, often, has it stirred 
 My heart, lit up my soul's cold bird. 
 
 To one wild flame of joy : — 
 A nameless trance, that seemed to steal 
 
 Anticipation's thrones, 
 An essence I would fain reveal. 
 But which my power may not unseal, 
 As something that I still can feel 
 
 Crawl through these aged bones. 
 
22 
 
 THE PIONEER. 
 
 " Could but the conquering soldier train 
 
 His legions in tlie tield 
 With half the ease thy gifts sustain 
 Dominion o'er the raptured swain 
 
 Thy glances teach to yield, 
 Or could the monarch rule his realm 
 
 With a fragment of thy grace, 
 Sedition would not hew the elm, 
 Nor rank ]"ebellion overwhelm ; — 
 Oh, there's an all commanding helm 
 In the fiagshi}) of thy face ! 
 
 " I wonder dost thou dream of me, 
 
 In thy far off island home, 
 Of my seclusion o'er the sea, 
 80 distant from my joys and thee 
 
 In this woodland's verdant foam ! 
 1 have no need to muse. An age 
 
 Has slowly i)assed a^^'ay 
 ►Since last I trod my heritage; 
 The childmates of my pilgrimage 
 Are dreaming in the loamy cage 
 
 Of the dread all-judging day. 
 
 " The rudest bosom e'er that saw 
 
 Thee, sipped of paradise ; 
 It could not know a wintry law. 
 For, radiant being! tliou couldst thaw 
 
THE I'lONEEK. 23 
 
 All arctic zone of ice. 
 The empty breast, tlioiigli frozen hard, 
 
 A sohd, stony, mass, 
 In thy bright presence lost its guard 
 And mellowed to a minstrel's card, 
 Became at once an amorous bard 
 
 Reflected in thy glass. 
 
 " I know that thou, like most I knew, 
 
 Hast faded from the eye 
 Below time's blank liorizon blue, 
 And thou art lost to human yiew 
 
 Adown the hollow sky. 
 To-day the worm himself l)eguiles, 
 
 With many a loathsome freak. 
 O'er dozens of his insect miles, 
 Outleads, perchance, his untrained files 
 Where once thy superhuman smiles 
 
 Sat rocking in thy cheek. 
 
 " It is not so. 1 can not think 
 
 Thy soul, so pure and deep, 
 Such draught of gall should eyer drink, 
 Or that thy limpid eyes could shrink 
 
 To such a lifeless sleep. 
 Ah ! those rich eyes : like — nothing yet 
 
 That eyer beamed below, — 
 Two diamonds in a coronet. 
 
24 TPIE PIONEER. 
 
 Two stars that in thy face had met. 
 Two crystal globes of azure set 
 In an oval flake of snow. 
 
 " When slnmljer's mystic cliloroform 
 
 Benumbs those ancient limbs ; — 
 For, sometimes still, sleep locks her arm 
 Around my l)rain, and, with a storm 
 
 Of untranslated hymns, 
 She quenches in the silent night 
 
 The agonies of day — 
 Then, then, again I feel the light 
 That oft unnerved me, fill my sigiit. 
 And wake to watch the phantom white 
 
 That steals my soul away. 
 
 " Some charm of time has skimmed the cream 
 
 From exultation's milk, 
 Screwed silver fetters on joy's stream, 
 And robbed the gaudy maiden dream 
 
 Of all her fields of silk. 
 The mirthful, rich, canary, hour 
 
 That cheered its cliildhood cage 
 Has lost its merry-making power ; 
 Cold, ecjuinoctial, vapors lower. 
 E'en pleasure's juices have grown sour, 
 
 Through my lone pilgrimage. 
 
THE rioNKEK. 25 
 
 " Oh ! that I could once more recall 
 
 The meditative hours 
 That 1 have spent upon thee, all 
 \\"<)uld train a formidal)le wall 
 
 '(Jainst dissolution's powers: 
 Could I but gather up the days 
 
 I wasted in a dream, 
 Since l)eing shed its crescent rays, 
 Since life's to-day was Monday, Mays 
 ^Vnd fetes in tides would soon upraise 
 
 To swell its empty stream. 
 
 "Could T hut dam the falls of thought 
 
 That s})urn my weak control. 
 Could fancy, to subjection brought. 
 Enchain the current sorrow-fraught 
 
 Which bubl)lcs o'er my soul. 
 Then calmness might enthrone once more 
 
 Her sovereign on my Ijrow, 
 And she, the lady I adore, 
 Sleep peaceful as she slept of yore. 
 Evanished wishes ! high ashore 
 
 Ye warp in silence now. 
 
 " A bald existence 1 have felt 
 
 A blank, sublunar, lot ; 
 High comfort's sun could never melt 
 The iron shell, or icv belt 
 
26 THK PJONKKH. 
 
 That diingeoiK'd in my cot. 
 No summer beam can tluiw the snow 
 
 Eml)anke(l within l)i'east, 
 Xo venturoLi.s buttercup may grow 
 From the cold soil that lies l)elow, 
 Nor auglit relume the frayed trousseau 
 
 That once my senses dressed. 
 
 " Bright resolutious have been spun 
 
 In nature to aljsorb 
 One blossom from my faith undone. 
 Iiuitile all ; another one 
 
 Will decorate my orb 
 Of earthly turmoil nevermore 
 
 A\'hile the roots of life remain ; 
 There's no elixir for the sore 
 Of discontent and all the eoq)s 
 Of kin<h'ed ills which storm the door 
 
 For entrance to my brain. 
 
 "There is no phcjenix to arise 
 From the dust of my dead ho})e, 
 
 No spectacles can tit my eyes 
 
 To see again those dainty flies 
 My youth's sharp microscope 
 
 Developed tliick in the sweet air 
 And warm meridian 
 
 Of unsuspecting boyhood, wliere 
 
THE PIONEER. 27 
 
 My fancy reaped a cloudless glare, 
 Ere the unsullied culm of care 
 Had yellowed into man. 
 
 " No magic can return tlie wings 
 
 That once my vision wore. 
 New Dredalus at Iceland's springs, 
 I melted off the waxen things 
 
 That tem|)ted me to soar." 
 The old man roused his strength to gird 
 
 Reflection into rest ; 
 He ceased and not a passion stirred 
 Within him ; like a wounded bird. 
 The dreamer's palsied plaint was heard 
 
 In the forest of the west. 
 
 They moored them on an unknown strand, 
 
 A group of daring men ; 
 Along the pine-producing sand 
 Tliey traveled o'er an untamed land 
 
 Through forest, glade, and glen. 
 The portly, aqueous, granite side 
 
 AVet with the white wave's spray. 
 Shut in the grass and out the tide. 
 Whilst admiration occupied 
 Each bosom, as the strangers eyed 
 
 The wildness of the wav. 
 
28 THE PKINEER. 
 
 " What undeciphered land is this 
 
 In science' scales nnweighed, 
 Still chiming in its virgin bliss, 
 Whose sacred cheek no Jndas-kiss 
 
 To insult e'er betrayed, 
 A\'hose unit heart intensified 
 
 Is filled with many souls, 
 Across whose valleys' fragrant pride 
 Where singing fishes sportive glide 
 Through forest surges, dense and wide. 
 
 A green Atlantic rolls? 
 
 "What vast leviathan, aflir 
 
 In this undiscovered sea, 
 So long should sleep a shaded star, 
 The still unl)loody Trafalgar 
 
 ( )f history to l;)e ? 
 Have wars, and storms, and plagues, occured 
 
 'Mong pestilential knaves ; 
 Have kingdoms moiled and empires erred. 
 Nor all the broils crude eartli hath heard 
 Availed to rouse the glorious bird 
 
 From his nest of rocks and waves ? 
 
 "Have warriors borne in every land 
 
 The saber and the shield 
 O'er civil vale and slothful sand, 
 And never chieftain filed his band 
 
THE PIONKER. 29 
 
 Along the martial tiekl ? 
 Have a million sages grown and gone 
 
 Since Adam's fable Inrtli, 
 Nor all the centuries furnished one 
 From Lazarus to Croesus, on 
 ^\dlose form sits wisdom's cloak to throne 
 
 This princess of the earth ? 
 
 " Have savage bear and wolverine 
 
 Prowled in those passes wild, 
 Have suns and moons been bright unseen, 
 Where nature still delays to wean 
 
 The full-grown mammoth child? 
 Where oak, and elm, and beech, have grown 
 
 Unschooled Ijy hands of toil, 
 AVhere Ctesar might carve out a throne 
 From diamond quarries yet unknown, 
 AVliy is it tliat the wolf alone 
 
 Is ca])tain of tlie soil? 
 
 •' Where beauty, like a meadow, l)looms 
 
 Along her solemn face ; 
 fjike tenantless and somber toml)s, 
 Why is it that those deep-lunged glooms 
 
 Are void of human grace ? 
 The cedar roots within the ground 
 
 And wears a stylisli rind ; 
 AVhere vast diversities abound, 
 
30 THE PIOXKKK. 
 
 Wliy is no blood-veined timber fonnd, 
 No bark of clay that doth snrronnd 
 The maple of tlio mind ? 
 
 " From dreams that haunted us of old 
 
 On the canceled side of time, 
 Though magnified a thousand fold, 
 And from the tale our fathers told 
 
 In story and in rhyme. 
 We had not learned that far beyond, 
 
 And fencing ocean l)ack, 
 Was shelyed a yolume all unconncd, 
 Was domiciled a siren l)londe 
 To cheer yon sun with ghnices fond 
 
 (^n his cyening's hectic track. 
 
 " We did not dream this place of resi 
 
 So broad and peaceful lay, 
 Tliat the green pillow of the west 
 AVas that whose silken kindness pressed 
 
 The cold dead cheek of day. 
 Here 'mong the reeds let us rei)osc ; 
 
 Here, 'mid these woodlands cast, 
 Let us o'erlook our distant foes, 
 S])eak of our friends and all our throes, 
 In i^rideful contemplation close 
 
 ( )f the dangers we haye ])assed " 
 
THE I'lOXEER. 31 
 
 There is a lonely woman dwells 
 
 Anear the Arctic pole. 
 Forever to herself she tells 
 Of some strange memory that upwells 
 
 From the strata of her soul. 
 Far otf in frosty Iceland where 
 
 Tlie snow-l)ergs choke the seas, 
 Where the Aurora candles glare 
 In mockery of the hlackened air, 
 \Mien winter's icy teeth are hare, 
 
 She sips life's acid lees. 
 
 For her forenoon of time is gone 
 
 To its graveyard in the east ; 
 Her heart, could we but see't, is \\an. 
 Buried in snows her grief put on 
 
 Since girlliood's April feast. 
 Those furrows in her features need 
 
 No glossarv which saith 
 '' Her race will soon relax its speed," 
 And those white hairs, all sparse indeed. 
 Are hut the blossoms of a seed 
 
 That ripens into death. 
 
 "1 looked upon the stars last night," 
 
 Soliloquized the dame ; 
 "My years are growing frail and white 
 And vet those beads beam out as brigiit. 
 
THK IIOXKKI;. 
 
 Bum witli ;!s full ;i liarui-, 
 As wlieu au iufaul uulicguik'd 
 
 I gazed on each s\\'eet face 
 That turned away from Heaven and smiled 
 In kindness on a lonely child. 
 As simple and as ur.defiled 
 
 As their em])yival race. 
 
 *'My life has had its hidden thorns. 
 
 Its noondays and its shades. 
 Its dewy eves and fragrant morns. 
 And- disappointment's ragged horns 
 
 Have loomed ahove its glades. 
 It hath full furnished many a nest 
 
 AN'itli eggs of gilded glass, 
 Hath prized what falsely seemed the l)est, 
 Unmindful long of all the rest. 
 And many an unwelcome guest 
 
 That nestled in its grass. 
 
 " My hreast has oft heen full of snow 
 
 In the sultry hours of June. 
 And, sometimes, did the roses grow 
 AMien hleak Decemlier's gust would lilow 
 
 Their foliage to prune. 
 AVhat often seemed a sum])tuous hill 
 
 Proved hut a ti'ivial slojie, 
 And contradictions grew, until 
 
THK PIONEER. 33 
 
 Tliev dulled my sense and clogged niv will, 
 Though still was ground in fancy's niill 
 The painted flour of hope. 
 
 " This almost boundless })lain of earth 
 
 Has oftentimes been green, 
 Has often worn this wintry dearth 
 Of vapory ice to mock the mirtli 
 
 Of summer's gaudy sheen ; 
 Yet each new year its garbs ap})ear 
 
 As new as e'er before. 
 And that same freshness kindles liere 
 Which moons agone I held so dear; 
 Why comes no youth again to clieer 
 
 The blitheness once I wore ? 
 
 " My maidenhood was e'en as briglit 
 
 As any of my kind, 
 My heart soared upward, like a kite, 
 And pleasures rare did frequent light 
 
 Their stars along my mind. 
 T wonder do all people feeb 
 
 AMien early Ijlooms decay, 
 80 little of that curbless zeal 
 Which rocked their youth on many a wheel, 
 As r have felt so long congeal 
 
 Witliin this sliell of clav? 
 
34 THE I'lOXKEK. 
 
 " Tliere was a jjoint where no degree 
 
 Of sorrow tinged my sky, 
 No seraplr could excel my glee, 
 Nor the unharnessed reindeer be 
 
 More jubilant tlian I ; 
 There was no s])ot or stain of care 
 
 I^pon my l>riglit brow then, 
 l>ut it was Sunday everywhere, 
 And all the circumambient air, 
 An azure pyramid of ])rayer 
 
 That floated over men. 
 
 " I was as yet a leafless girl 
 
 In the somber grove of life ; 
 1 had not felt my young lio])es curl, 
 And cris]). and shrink, bt'fore the whirl 
 
 ( )f its malicious strife ; 
 Ikit womanhood stood at my door, 
 
 My maiden days had ])assed 
 My childhood's launeh, its journeys o'er. 
 \\^is mooring on a sterner slioiw 
 Tntil I saw around me soar 
 
 My ills in flocks at last. 
 
 " Why do I still in memory dream 
 
 Of a long al)sented form, 
 Still troll along dece])tion's .stream. 
 Oi' Idl\' seek a liuovant tluMue 
 
THE PIONEER. OO 
 
 In the warfore of the storm ? 
 My days are but a crust of l3read, 
 
 And I am but a slave, 
 Still my wild muse is sometimes wed 
 To all that rapture once she shed, 
 Despite these gray weeds on my head 
 
 That drag me to the grave. 
 
 "'Tis true that he was gentle, kind. 
 
 And tender, as the dove ; 
 Refinement, grace, and thought, combined 
 To decorate and fit his mind 
 
 For superhuman love ; 
 And all the powers he could control 
 
 My pleasure might employ ; 
 For me his warm devotion stole 
 Nectarean quaffs from many a l;)Owl, 
 The every effort of his soul 
 
 8et canvas on my joy. 
 
 " But he is not beside me now ; 
 
 Like mist he rose away : 
 My last repulse of his last \o^x 
 Stood, like a midnight, on his brow ; 
 
 A sting v^'dH in that nay 
 That penetrated cold and deep 
 
 The life-chords of my breast, 
 x\nd my poor victim is asleep 
 
36 THE PIONEER. 
 
 AMiere sighs and cares can never cree]) ; 
 It would nncell my lieart to weep 
 Its ruincloud o'er his rest. 
 
 "To talk of Heaven thev did not need 
 
 When my adored was near; 
 I woidd not change my l)liss, indeed, 
 For })aradise's rarest seed 
 
 ( )t' rapture, peace, and cheer. 
 The icefield was a tlower-hed whei'e 
 
 Were shamed the gems of May ; 
 When my devoted halm was there. 
 He stri})ped the frost stings from the air, 
 Converted the hlack tieece of eare 
 
 To season white as day. 
 
 '• A thorn grew up in the }iath we trod 
 
 'lliat choked the hloom of love ; 
 l^nlike its clan, it l;ore a pod. 
 And, when 1 saw't, I thought of (lod 
 
 In the Tuilleries ahove. 
 Around my heart a net was set, 
 
 Around my soul a cloud ; 
 I slowly schooled me to forget 
 Tlie huxomest I ever met, 
 And all that blessed and pleased me yet 
 
 Was nuifHed in a shroud. 
 
THE I'lOXEER. 
 
 " A star arose, as he went down, 
 
 In the evening of my yontli ; 
 The love-glance, robed in virtne's gown, 
 A\^as fossilized a frozen frown 
 
 In the countenance of truth : 
 Another stood where he had stood 
 
 'Neatli the foliage of my heart, 
 Secured the word he never could, 
 And triumphed where his rival should, 
 (yertrami)led on the kind and good 
 
 That l)lanched l)efore his art. 
 
 " The second proved as fond and fair 
 
 In my opinion then ; 
 1 choose him with a timid care, 
 The nuptial bough that I should wear 
 
 To th' wormdiome ark of men. 
 My spouse is gone where I shall go 
 
 Regretless pretty soon ; 
 For time will melt all human snow : 
 I have known what I care to know. 
 And now my life-globe settles low 
 
 Adown the afternoon. 
 
 " But there's one hall within my breast 
 
 Where none have ever been, 
 Except that unbefriended guest 
 Whosejnemory still builds up a nest 
 
 37 
 
38 THK I'lOXKEK. 
 
 And dances out and in 
 Along the eves of my vague soul, 
 
 Now creaking in the blast ; 
 I hear a low, incessant, roll 
 As if of angry waters, troll 
 Its foamy music to the goal 
 
 (_)f something long gone past. 
 
 " I need not angle for its cause, 
 
 Since 1 have known it well ; 
 Tliere is a diamond in the laws 
 Of early love that over awes 
 
 The purest after spell. 
 'Twas love that reigned, — ah ! could I seek 
 
 Tliat gauz}- prize once more, — 
 But I was vain as I am weak, 
 .Vnd now it needs not that I speak 
 AMiat age hath etched along my cheek 
 
 Of foggy fancies o'er. 
 
 " A vessel in yon harbor lies 
 
 Shaking her canvas wings. 
 And l)racing up with new sup})lies 
 Of flaxen muscles for such skies 
 
 As snap the stiffest strings. 
 They tell me she is destined far, 
 
 An obscure shore to seek ; 
 I am resolved to court the star 
 
TJIK I'lOXEKH. 39 
 
 Ol cluuR'C', to ^till, if't may, tliis jar 
 Within my heart, or chaso the sear 
 Of sorrow h'om my eheek." 
 
 And so slie lodged within the ship 
 
 To leap across the sea, 
 To fly oblivion from tlie ti}) 
 Of fate's strange vessel, and to ehij) 
 
 The past's ungracious tree. 
 A few weeks, borne on ocean's Ijack 
 
 O'er the fish-filled billow cave 
 In a wooden saddle tVirough the l)lack, 
 Unfriendly, breast of night's lone track 
 Or seething tempest, and they tack 
 
 Beyond the traitorous wave. 
 
 Home h'iends were there with her to search 
 
 The new-coined western world. 
 If any novelty might perch 
 Upon tlie croivn of grave or church 
 
 In the gilt of ])eace impearled ; 
 And some they found who had Ijefore 
 
 To the wilds of Hossamess 
 Good by'd the lacile. Runic, shore, 
 Joy-clustered ; here and there was store 
 Of wierd romance and ghastly lore 
 
 To thrill, to rouse, and bless. 
 
40 THE PIONEER. 
 
 They told them of new men, new modes, 
 
 111 this left hand side of earth, 
 New systems, wars, and tribes, and eodes, 
 And new found gods whose sky aljodes 
 
 Were hewn of wrath, or mirth. 
 To mate the builder's thought ; as some 
 
 Hinee then in Ijrighter times 
 Have quarried out new creeds to come ; 
 And some laughed loud, and some sat dumb, 
 And some were fluttering in tlie hum 
 
 Of sunflower childhood's climes. 
 
 " Yes, lady, there's an aged man 
 
 Among these warlike triljes. 
 He is not of the sallow tan 
 That designates their bronzy clan 
 
 And calumny describes. 
 In Eastern land this bard was born, — 
 
 For once he knitted song, — 
 He missed the sunshine in the morn 
 Beyond his manhood, and the corn 
 Alone of sadness now is shorn 
 
 The harvest of his wrong. 
 
 " I know fi dl well his shrewd retreat, 
 
 I often seek the spot, 
 And I am sad whene'er I meet 
 The Balbec of that proud conceit 
 
THE PIONEER. 41 
 
 AVhich clouded all his lot. 
 This victim of some fatal charm 
 
 That mystified his life, 
 That mixed his blood, once swift and warm, 
 With the frozen sloth of Greenland's storm 
 And gashed his unresisting form 
 
 With an ever piercing knife." 
 
 " Would it be well, think you, should I," 
 
 The woman meek inquired, 
 " Approach this old man's home? How high 
 'Twould swell my pulse to linger by 
 
 This prison self-inspired ! 
 Some powerful liand has been at toil 
 
 On the crystal of his youth. 
 Some agent forged a fearful moil, 
 T' upheave such rocks through his soul's soil, 
 To spot the brilliant silver foil 
 
 On the rigid Ijust of truth." 
 
 " 'Tis not unmeet and we will go 
 
 To seek the exile's cells. 
 Fair lady, see those willows blow ; ■ 
 Let us observe how green they grow, 
 
 For there the lone one dwells. 
 Here is the haunt of one to whom 
 
 Not many often come. 
 Who little recks the fragrant bloom 
 
42 THE PIONEER. 
 
 That decorates the winter's tomb, 
 Who wraps himself in clouds of gloom 
 And sits forever dumb. 
 
 " This is the door and we will knock 
 
 To see if he be here ; — 
 The heavens doth constitute his clock, 
 Excepting when the clouds do mock 
 
 The hermit's limpid tear. 
 Hark ! He responds." " Good-morrow, friend, 
 
 How tind'st thou thee to-day ? " 
 " But poorly, sir." " Alas, I bend 
 In giief that illness should descend 
 Upon the palsied brow : but mend 
 
 We ever dare and ma}'. 
 
 " A stranger comes with me to ask 
 
 If thou art hale this morn ; 
 It must be long since thou didst bask 
 In any trapping, save the mask 
 
 Of solitude forlorn. 
 This lady comes from o'er the sea, 
 
 She heard of thy rude cell, 
 And, wishing much to visit thee. 
 This morning wanders out with me. 
 Lo ! reverend mourner, this is she, 
 
 Fain here awhile to dwell." 
 
THE pionp:er. 43 
 
 "Come in, kind stranger, thoiigli I fear 
 
 So cold a hearth as mine 
 €an guarantee but trivial cheer ; 
 Still here through, many a tedious year 
 
 I have watched my life deeliue. 
 Come in, fair wanderer. This rude home 
 
 Is all I can bestow ; 
 Yet art thou welcome to the dome 
 Of this lone habitation ; tome 
 Or record of the land we roam 
 
 My mantle does not know. 
 
 " Thou art a woman ? Many days 
 
 Have crawled across my l^row. 
 Since last I knew a woman's praise. 
 And little prophesied to gaze 
 
 Upon a lady now. 
 It sorrows me that my frail eyes 
 
 Are so benumbed by age 
 That I can not observe the prize 
 The heavens have sent me. Oh, there lies 
 In thy fair face, I deem, a guise 
 
 Beyond my power to gauge. 
 
 " Sit on this stool, my gracious guest ; 
 
 I framed it long ago 
 From those rough timbers of the west, 
 When hopes, once white within my breast, 
 
44 THE PIONEER. 
 
 Began to .shed the blow. 
 I .shall be glad, if thou partake 
 
 (3f all my lowly cheer : 
 Thou must be weary. Thou dost wake ? 
 Then share a rest I would not break, 
 If only for that woman's sake 
 
 Whom once I dreamed .so dear. 
 
 " Lady, a human footstep comes 
 
 But seldom through these woods ; 
 Alone I hear the partridge drums. 
 Alone I pick the ripening plums 
 
 That paint these .solitudes. 
 Thou must be far from thy own land, 
 
 In realms as wild as this. 
 What lured to this romantic strand 
 The lace work of .so rich a brand ? 
 Why is it that thy bosom spanned 
 
 The ocean's dread abyss ? 
 
 " So many maidless wings of space 
 Have swept above my soul. 
 
 It almost seemed that woman's face 
 
 Was but a myth, without a place 
 On earth from pole to pole. 
 
 Meek stranger, could thy ftmcy guess 
 That one forgot so soon 
 
 The all in life can trulv bless? 
 
THE PIONEER. 45 
 
 Believe me well, sweet lady. Yes, 
 I would as lief reach to caress 
 The bosom of the moon, 
 
 " But thy fond i)resence rol^s me now 
 
 Of a thorn that scratched my mind. 
 Drapes my dry brain with many a liough, 
 And burns my memory with a vow 
 
 A woman once declined. 
 " Perhaps thou thirsteth ; drink this draught 
 
 From thy discourteous host. 
 It has no philter, save the craft [ed 
 
 It learned from flower-t owned meads, and laugh- 
 To waft along its bubbly raft 
 
 To the hungry ocean's coast. 
 
 '' In all the pomp of this proud world 
 
 I shared to some degree ; 
 But far, far, far, the dream I whirled. 
 And this stone cup so roughly curled 
 
 Is grandeur meet for me. 
 Drink, therefore, welcome lady. Mine 
 
 No Spartan spirit knows. 
 See what a cool, transparent, shine, 
 Is settled in this fluid sign 
 Of purity, for 'tis the wine 
 
 That Heaven itself bestows. 
 
46 THE PIONEER. 
 
 " Not always was this form as bent 
 
 And toppling as 'tis now ; 
 Bnt I have known a swift descent, 
 And time has pitched his ridgy tent 
 
 (3n the prairie of my brow. 
 'Tis well, nor would I dare complain 
 
 (3f my Creator's gift, 
 Although it be a lake of pain ; 
 Howe'er Ave lose, we somehow gain, 
 And there's a balm in every bane 
 
 Through all its bitter tlirift. 
 
 "Here's some refreshment; 'twill, mayhap, 
 
 kSeem very poor to thee ; 
 And yet, last autumn, many a tap 
 Drained the pale flowers, when this sweet sap 
 
 Was plundered l^y the bee. 
 'Tis very long — extremely long — 
 
 Since I left my early home : 
 These little birds are full of song. 
 And very kind to me ; they throng 
 My parks ; and time can forge no wrong 
 
 Where they are free to roam. 
 
 " Do my companions gatlier yet 
 
 In my ancestral halls? 
 Ah ! if there lives as darkly set 
 As their young friend's, then small regret 
 
THE PIONEER. 47 
 
 Hangs round those silent walls. 
 Attentive gaze on this deep sky : 
 
 How sacred, soft, and pure ; 
 For me to-day it bends as high 
 As my most boasted hope can fly 
 And can e'en now as well supply 
 
 All youth had lent to lure. 
 
 " I happy am, and I am sad. 
 
 In each revolving hour ; 
 One moment grieved, one moment glad, 
 And every instant motley clad 
 
 By some unfathomed power. 
 My life was one huge error; — all 
 
 A cheerless, windy, day, — 
 Save one sole nook, so bleak, so small, 
 In youth's blue east, I scarce can call 
 It back to memory ; there's a pall 
 
 On all my after way. 
 
 " T know thou thinkest I am rude — 
 
 Have been since I began — 
 That thus on thee my thoughts intrude. 
 But fifty years of solitude 
 
 Will warp a hardy man. 
 Couldst thou but see me when the bloom 
 
 Hung on my vernal years. 
 Thou wouldst confess that I have room 
 
48 THE PIONEER. 
 
 For aljerration, and tlie doom 
 I bear is one whose fertile womb 
 Yields progeny of tears. 
 
 " I have Ijeen talking without stop 
 
 Against my guest's regards ; 
 And much I fear, I overtop 
 The bourne of courtesy to prop 
 
 My life's decaying cords : 
 But such a swarm of hours have flown 
 
 Above my dizzy head, 
 So many weeds of grief have grown 
 Along my soul's torn edges, prone 
 Am I to think, repent, and moan, 
 
 For the fragrance lost and dead. 
 
 " I now almost forget, indeed, 
 
 Civility herself; 
 For I have had but little need 
 To cultivate her tickle creed. 
 
 On some forgotten shelf 
 I left my manners once asleep 
 
 In this broad wilderness. 
 The wolf, ere now, has come to keej) 
 His feast around their fossils : deep 
 In one whose province is to weep 
 
 The folly they express. 
 
THE PIONEER. 49 
 
 " Perhaps, thou cam'st from Iceland where 
 
 The fates record my birth. 
 Oh ! are there any Hving there 
 Could once adorn with spendthrift care 
 
 The desert of the earth ? 
 If, lady, I appear uncouth 
 
 In aught I hint to thee, 
 Consider that the fires of youth 
 In me are embers ; and, in sooth, 
 A woman's faith, a woman's truth, 
 
 Are toys too tame for me. 
 
 " There was a day, and wert thou she 
 
 Who wrought this wTeck of mine. 
 No eulogy complete would be 
 Profanely that depictured thee 
 
 Less than a gem divine : 
 And though she thought it fit to slight 
 
 A bosom too sincere, 
 And this torn spirit treasures bright 
 The only star that lights iis night. 
 And never more may check the fliglit 
 
 Of an everlasting tear. 
 
 " She did not know how deep the love 
 
 I bore for her too long ; 
 All visions else drooped dead above 
 The snow of my angelic dove 
 
50 THE PIONEER. 
 
 And melted like a song. 
 Yet, lady, she way kind and meek 
 
 To her ill-fated boy. 
 Her lips have kissed this withered cheek, 
 Although by some relentless freak 
 She left at last my bosom bleak 
 
 And rooted up my joy. 
 
 " Could I induce thee to believe 
 
 Attection wild as mine 
 No consolation can receive. 
 When once it leaves a sky to grieve 
 
 That never more shall shine ? 
 It is, alas, a truth too true ; 
 
 Home natures may not feel 
 The heart-ache, sealed in love's adieu, 
 But, trust me, they are coarse, and sue 
 For no adorers from the few 
 
 Whose souls are staunch as steel. 
 
 " Not many know, no more shall know, 
 
 My blasted spirit's power ; 
 Yet 'twas a soil wherein miglit grow 
 With I'ich variety of blow 
 
 Full many a glorious flower. 
 Love is the helm of thousands o'er 
 
 A heaven reflecting sea ; 
 Love is the pharos 'long the shore. 
 
THE PIONEER. 51 
 
 Love is the kind heart's yellow ore, 
 Love is the wing by which we soar, — 
 Ah, would 'twere so with me ! 
 
 " Fair stranger, didst thou ever meet 
 
 In thy frost-bespangled home. 
 With chaste Thurida's spirit sweet, 
 Pure as yon ocean's azure sheet, 
 
 Or alabaster foam ? " 
 " I think, de^r, aged, anchroite, 
 
 That I have seen the maid. 
 'Tis sad that one eternal blight 
 Hath gathered round her heart rose white ; 
 Her life, like thine 's, a moonless night. 
 
 And she a pining shade. . 
 
 " Thou solitary man ! can aught 
 
 To comfort thee be done ? 
 I'm sure Thurida's every thought 
 Would bless thee and her wish be taught 
 
 Fulfillment through her son. 
 Far, far away, her own kind child — 
 
 Her only treasure now — 
 To deem his mother reconciled. 
 Will thread his course in this bleak wild. 
 And kindle peace where once it smiled 
 
 In winrows on thv brow." 
 
62 
 
 THE PIONEER. 
 
 Why, reader, as the woman spoke, 
 
 Need she so deeply sigh ? 
 AVhat weakness did she seek to cloak ? 
 A\'hy did the big tears rise to choke 
 
 The brightness of her eye ? 
 What secret coiled in that despair 
 
 Her pride refused to c|uell ? 
 Why gazed she with that trembling stare, 
 As if strange ghosts rained down the air ? 
 It was Thurida's self was there 
 
 In that sorrow-haunted cell. 
 
 " No, lady, there is nothing now," 
 
 The white-haired hermit said, 
 " Except this somber cypress bough 
 That aptly grows witliin my brow ; 
 
 For all my soul is dead. 
 Here is a little humble ring 
 
 That once Thurida wore. 
 Ah ! I have prized this gilded thing ; 
 Tell her its magic lost its wing, 
 Tell her the fawn of love's bright spring 
 
 Shall vex her nevermore. 
 
 " Here is a sword I send her son ; — 
 
 May he live to wear it long, — 
 And take this circlet home from one 
 Whose act of life is nearly done 
 
THE PIONEER. 53 
 
 To her who wrought his wrong. 
 Still, may the heavens protect her rest 
 
 Where ever she repose ; 
 May floral joys fill high her breast, — 
 Beside her heart was mine once blessed. 
 In my new manhood's fiery zest 
 
 That found so dark a close." 
 
 " Farewell, poor bard. Now must we go." 
 
 She dared no more to speak ; 
 The fiame of love was flickering low. 
 And in its last impulsive glow, 
 
 She kissed his chilly cheek. 
 Ages have flown ; Time's tippling hand 
 
 Has emptied many a year ; 
 Columbia ^\-rought what freedom planned, 
 And cities blossomed round the land ; 
 Has she produced more sad or grand 
 
 Than the blind old pioneer ? 
 
IRENA'S LESSON. 
 
 Morn, like a princess at a feast, 
 Sits smiling in the bounteous east. 
 And from her broad ancestral hall, 
 Flings out her leers of love to all : 
 Or, like a priest in rosy robes, 
 Rich shepherd of a thousand globes, 
 Who kneels awhile to praise and praj^ 
 Along the altar steps of day, 
 And pave the paths our fathers trod 
 M'^ith passports to the court of God. 
 
 Strange specters creep along the skies 
 And softly shut those shining eyes 
 That all night long have twinkled down 
 O'er dreamy vale and silent town. 
 The lion sun with princely air 
 Leaps proudly up from his black lair 
 And flings the light-flakes round the plain, 
 
irena's lesson. 55 
 
 Like dew dro])S, from his purple main : 
 The httle, spotted, heavenly deer 
 Desert their pastimes far and near, 
 And all the hordes above accord 
 Obeisance to their yellow loi'd. 
 
 It is a three-fold holy scene, 
 The night's pale corpse, the virgin green, 
 On valley, field, and mountain, shed. 
 An emerald shroud o'er her still head. 
 And those light reeds that pipe and play 
 To wait the night and hail the day. 
 
 See all around, below, above, 
 
 One universal wreath of love 
 
 Envelop in a golden shroud 
 
 The happy, false, and pure, and proud ; 
 
 All forms of flesh and fruits of clay 
 
 That hang along the boughs of day. 
 
 Where'er the eyes of thought may glance 
 
 The knight of love doth couch his lance : 
 
 Each bent to each, and face to face, 
 
 All life is locked in love's embrace ; 
 
 The cloud that skims the mountain copse 
 
 Delays to kiss its tempting tops ; 
 
 The rock with a fond parent's joy 
 
 Fails not to kiss its fountain boy 
 
 That in his wild, unbridled, glee 
 
56 irp:na's lesson. 
 
 Sings on his father's flinty knee ; 
 The honest bee to court his lass 
 Is buzzing love songs in the grass ; 
 The tree is amorous, like the dove 
 That fondles in its boughs above ; 
 His leaf-gloved fingers fall and rise 
 Along the blue breast of the skies : 
 To charm the siren of his heart, 
 The ivinged gallant exhausts his art, 
 And, while she feigns coquette with him, 
 Pursues her on from limb to limb, 
 His lips with foam-wreaths bearded o'er, 
 The wave steals up to kiss the shore : 
 The rapturous rose leans down to kiss, 
 In phrensied ecstasy of bliss, 
 And cheek to clieek, the daisy bride 
 That blushes blossoms at his side. 
 
 But turn we from the blade, the leaf, 
 The valley gem, the forest chief. 
 The sky, the stream, the mead, the air, 
 And all the webs that spangle there ; 
 Deflect we from the baser charms 
 To hope's fascines and love's alarms. 
 Observing thi'ough the shine and shade 
 The frontispiece of man and maid. 
 Hark, some one speaking, cautious, low ; 
 Now ripe and full their voices grow. 
 
I HEX A S LESSON. O/ 
 
 Like thunder womljed witlnn the blast, 
 But searching, keen, and loud, at last; 
 Or seeds that first obey the Ijreeze 
 And then grow up to stubborn trees 
 Whose towering columns' branchy ends 
 The Samson tempest scarcely bends. 
 Let us ensconce ourselves behind 
 This bole of oak, and seek to find 
 Why is it? pride? or peace? or fear? 
 These people come to gossip here? 
 
 " Irena, oft in solitude 
 At midnight's grave 1 sit and brood : 
 In such weird hour with visions wild, 
 Like some too far-presuming child, 
 I sometimes think through those clay bars 
 I could peep out and count the stars, 
 Descril)e those laioys on nature's sea, — 
 But not the wealth that shines in thee. 
 To paint, thou flower of all the earth, 
 The dimmest fraction of thy worth, 
 Fair Lidia ! never have I thought 
 In all I fancied, hoped, or sought." 
 
 " xVlmost this fervent praise of thine 
 Doth make me deem myself divine. 
 Methinks, I could allure a tear 
 Of joy to trust thou wert sincere." 
 
58 ikena's lesson. 
 
 " Fear that the needle's iron soul 
 Will wander from his lady pole, 
 A\'rll slight the path his maiden strays 
 For some poor arc of greener days, 
 And then distrust the magnet power. 
 To which I tremhle, Cjuail, and cower." 
 
 " But, Cyril, why wouldst tliou displace 
 The pearly spots on candor's face ? 
 I can not feel, I know not why. 
 That thou wilt love me liy and by. 
 Meseems, that, 'mong thy l)irds of sj^ring, 
 I hear some harsh-tongued raven sing ; 
 That from the branches of tliy strain, 
 Doth sprout the buds of future pain. 
 Ah ! tell me truly, will thy love 
 Forever keep its flight above. 
 In all the curves of its free range. 
 The sharpened crags and peaks of change ? 
 Are all those gems thou canst extol 
 But dust and sand to stain my soul ? 
 Delusion smooths, perchance, the glass 
 Before whose face thou see'st me pass : 
 Seen through these lenses of deceit, 
 That worth thou swearest now complete 
 May wear at last a fleasy dress, 
 Condemn to dungeons thy success. 
 And all this gilded, globous, wall 
 May prove at last a hive of gall." 
 
ikena'h lesson. 59 
 
 " Thou magic wand and potent wine 
 Of all that I could fancy mine, 
 Dost thou helieve yon sun will rise 
 No more within the silvered skies ? 
 Will some rude hand's barbarian force 
 Arrest him in his dizzy course? 
 Must this Prometheus share the shock, 
 The curb, the vulture, and the rock ? 
 Yet likelier much mayst thou opine 
 His orange eye shall cease to shine 
 Than that my soul could Ijrook to part 
 The shekels of thy golden heart." 
 
 '' But should I prove not what I seem, 
 
 How weak a rock may dam love's stream. 
 
 Methinks I hear vast waters fall 
 
 Far in the ether's hollow hall. 
 
 That in each sunbeam of thy praise 
 
 Is planted seeds of stormy days. 
 
 Knock at the door-sill of thy breast 
 
 And catechise thy spirit, lest. 
 
 Like down upon some thistle, blown 
 
 To whiten gardens not its own. 
 
 Those words thou rainest round me here 
 
 May build a sigh, or sire a tear. 
 
 Those flatt'ries that descend, like dew, 
 
 To wash my spirit fresh and new, 
 
 Ma}^ give some serpent power and art 
 
60 irena's lesson. 
 
 To coil his folds around my heart ; 
 Some phantom will entrance thee more 
 With deeper mines and purer ore. 
 Thy soul, I dread, will shift this scene; 
 That thy affection, now so green, 
 Will toss its hranches to the moon 
 To mock the love that died so soon." 
 
 " Fair, dear, Irena ! AVhat could be 
 More heavenly pure or dear to me 
 Below this breast of burnished gold 
 Our eyes slant upwards to behold — 
 Yon field where sleep the thunder's guns,. 
 Yon woven sheet of stars and suns. 
 Beneath those orchards of the skies — 
 Than where thou art thyself the prize ; 
 Than those bright smiles of gilded grace 
 That hang in clusters round thy face ; 
 Than those two orbs that roll and shine 
 Below thy Ijrow to beam on mine. 
 To strew my soul and fleck my way 
 AVith roses from the cheeks of May ; 
 Than that weird tongue when thou art near 
 That lures me to a happier sphere ; 
 That steals the senses from my brain 
 And yields them back refined again. 
 To drift my hopes and all their powers 
 With feathery banks of gems and flowers ? " 
 
ikena's lesson. 61 
 
 " Soft, Cyril, soft ! Do I forget 
 The gloss of love's bright alphabet ? 
 ' How many a man these centuries long 
 Have etched thy speech and tuned thy song ; — 
 To haven in some quiet shore, 
 Have chirped thy lessons o'er and o'er. 
 But, when in port arrived at last 
 And anchored from tlie fiendish l)last, 
 How oft unmanned is left tlie Imrge 
 Along the waves to plunge at large, 
 Its beauties painted pale and gray 
 By rude neglect and slow decay ; 
 Its hawsers wasted one by one, 
 Its rudder, mast, and streamer, gone. 
 I would thou didst not know so well 
 The Ijitter truth that all mUst tell. 
 Observe those hulls whose blackened forms 
 Are frowzy food for seas and storms, — 
 Once proud as I am, and as prime, 
 Now stranded on the Ijeach of time." 
 
 " Sometimes, Irena, and the soul 
 Doth not unfold a faithful scroll. 
 And (^ft while e'en we feel its spell 
 Fine language proves a hollow shell. 
 The tower whose base we build too small, 
 More feeble, as it grows more tall, 
 Unskilled to totter or to 1 )end 
 
62 ikena's oxson. 
 
 Must meet some day a lowly end. 
 No blast may fret or storm destroy 
 The marble walls of snowy joy, 
 The glorious spire that looms above 
 The spacious base of candid love, 
 And surely thou canst not believe 
 That I adore thee to decieve ? 
 j\Iy heart is but a pebble strayed 
 In that deep channel thou hast made, 
 O'er which thou pour'st at each caress 
 The foamy streams of happiness, 
 Transparent as a. mistless sky 
 When all may l)ask in God's bright eye. 
 The dim new moon of thy chaste kiss 
 (lives rise to such full tides of bliss 
 As drowns upon its iron throne 
 Each icy ill my life has known." 
 
 " 'Twould please me more those fields among, 
 Didst thou but bridle in thy tongue ; 
 He gallops at too mad a pace. 
 Too wliite a haste to win his race." 
 
 '' Ah ! could I trim that tongue a steed 
 Invested with transcendent speed. 
 And, did he stretch an entire year 
 AVith all the fleetness of the deer, 
 
irexa's lesson. 63 
 
 How far at last from thy wild skill 
 His drowsy fiigbt would leave me still." 
 
 " I know thou wouldst not thus annoy, 
 
 Thus thrust a lance through my frail joy, 
 
 Thus overturn my liquid dream, 
 
 Or jolt my fancy, couldst thou deem 
 
 It is not altogether kind 
 
 So to besiege a tranquil mind. 
 
 As by thy lips to know thee near, 
 
 I would as lief be lonely here ; 
 
 I feel the air about me sweet. 
 
 As if rich flowers were round my feet : 
 
 I can not see the pleasure's cause 
 
 Through all thy flatt'ry's hazy gauze. 
 
 Fain would I hear the random note 
 
 That fills the siren's dulcet throat. 
 
 I can not hear the merry birds 
 
 Through all these walls of oily words." 
 
 " Woul<l thy cold heart were full of lyres, 
 Of dreams, and bees, and crackling fires ; 
 Of bloodless hope, and puffed despair. 
 Like this vexed thing which I must wear. 
 Thou must indeed be cruel, who 
 Wouldst urge a granite arrow through 
 The little springs that still control 
 The tender clock-work of mv soul. 
 
64 ir.KXA's r.Essox. 
 
 A\^itliin my liosoiii what i\ cloud 
 I:^ ."^liutting- out the sun I vowed 
 Should nevermore unviq-ored shine 
 On this chaste bliss of mine and thine." 
 
 " Then roll away this fogg}' fence 
 
 With some faint Ijreeze of thought and sense, 
 
 Some Ijroom to Ijright thy reason's sheen 
 
 And sweep its tiag-stones smooth and clean. 
 
 Thou wingless moth, why dost tliou stare 
 
 Full on the candle's per'lous glare, 
 
 Long for a }irize l:eyond thy claim 
 
 And plunge r.mcng its tongues of flame?" 
 
 " Ah ! wilt thou still make grief my guest, 
 Still leave those millstones in my breast 
 Of croaking doubt and fanged distrust 
 That grind my ho})es to smoke and dust? 
 VChx wilt thou make my desert state 
 So 1.)arren, l)leak, and desolate, 
 ]\Iv pulses waltz so wild a tune, 
 Crown winter on the throne of June, 
 And lock that heart in frost and snow 
 Wliere birds miglit sing and verdure grow?" 
 
 " But, Cyril dear, it makes me sad 
 
 To see whom once I loved, so mad. 
 
 Fill up those seams ])etween thy thoughts 
 
ire::a'8 lesson. (i5 
 
 With some rich engiiiefiil of naughts ; 
 For cj^phers ranged in stahvart ranks 
 Were choicer than those rusty blanks, 
 Whose clam'rous voids of pithless s})eech 
 AVhereby thou wouldst be taught, and teach. 
 Dost thou suppose the grain of sense 
 Received by me from Providence 
 Has taken furlough for a space 
 To visit in some distant place ? 
 Mistaken man, go deal with fools 
 Who talk and love l)y formal rules. 
 Thou canst not palm thy empty tongue, 
 Though thick with lieads of Hatt'ry hung, 
 Enlabled round with zeal and youth. 
 As 'twere a flagon filled with truth — 
 Albeit it shine from candor's shelf — 
 ( )n e'en my unsuspecting self." 
 
 " I little thought that gol )lin day, 
 A\nien first thou mad'st my fancy gay. 
 When love for thee in me was new, 
 'Twould be at last a plant to rue ; 
 Xor for my pains should yet be Ijorn 
 This ineradicable tliorn 
 Whose despot roots usur}) control 
 Through all the subsoil of my soul. 
 I knew not when I saw thee first 
 The tempting viper tliat 1 nursed 
 
66 irena's lesson. 
 
 In scanning thee, thou needle, knife, 
 Tliou Ijlack echpse in my young life ; 
 Nor dreamed to hear my earh^ knell 
 Loud pealed l)y one I loved so well." 
 
 " Thou zero whose sole worth and pride 
 
 Is due to that it stands beside ! 
 
 The worm thou grind'st Ijcneath thy heel 
 
 Has more of love than thou canst feel. 
 
 And, hear me ! I would gladlier wed 
 
 The cold, unmonumented, dead 
 
 Than know that thou hadst snared thy dove 
 
 Within so tame a trap of love ; 
 
 Some sleepy fly or straggling bee 
 
 Enmeshed within so poor a plea. 
 
 I would not pride me to decieve ; 
 
 But, verily, I do believe ■ 
 
 Despite of all thy tact and art, 
 
 They cant and rant aljout thy heart, 
 
 Beneath his silken, mossy frock 
 
 A softer lies in yon black rock, 
 
 That thy affection's pulsing cone 
 
 Is flintier than yon bloodless stone. " 
 
 " Irena, cease, no more, no more ! 
 Good by, sweet peace, forever o'er. 
 'Twas wrong to break within my house 
 And make my heart thy helpless mouse,, 
 
ikkna's lesson. P)7 
 
 Thy toy while anxious hours crawled past 
 
 And crunch it in thy jaws at last : 
 
 To weave that broad mirage of bliss 
 
 And Cj[uench it in a flash like this. 
 
 'Twas grimly, mercilessly, wrong 
 
 To trail thy line for me so long, — 
 
 Poor foolish fish that seized the ])ait 
 
 To bleed upon the beard of fate. 
 
 'Twas damnable at one fell stroke 
 
 To rend in splinters that green oak 
 
 Of warm affection, tliat broad tree 
 
 Whose boughs were meant to shelter me. 
 
 Say, when I slept in thy first tomb, 
 
 Unresurrected from the womb. 
 
 Ye friends who mark our rise and fall, 
 
 Ye reptiles in yon hollow ball, 
 
 AVho, like the past, the future see. 
 
 Was this damned sting in store for me? 
 
 Ye heavenly powers, let me control 
 
 This earthquake bursting through my soul. 
 
 There is no Heav'n for all is Hell. 
 
 False garden-snake, farewell ! " 
 
 " Farewell." 
 
 And thus they parted ; one to wade 
 Through curious ways herself had laid. 
 And one to nurse the Ijitter smart 
 That gnawed his soul and pinched his heart. 
 
"^iH ikexa's j,i<>s()X. 
 
 II 
 
 " AMiile through tlieir wandering Ijeds l)elow 
 
 The thick'ning tidys of hie shah flow, 
 
 As long as on tliis'sceptered slioal 
 
 My dust is luishand to my soul, 
 
 And while these palsied nerves shall twine 
 
 Around those wrinkled Ijones of mine, 
 
 'Till nature snaps my hrittle limbs 
 
 Asunder, and my vision dims 
 
 Forever on my creaking throne, 
 
 Though 'mong my realms I stand alone, 
 
 Tartarean dog shall never rule 
 
 Thy domes and homes, sad Istamlioul." 
 
 8ueh the Arm words that crept Ijetween 
 
 The troubled lips of (bn.stantine. 
 
 As, brooding o'er his own dark hate 
 
 And madd'hing on the rock of fate. 
 
 He raked his memor^^'s smoldering hres 
 
 To exile with his famous sires 
 
 The rugged ice-l)erg in his l)reast 
 
 Of freezing grief — his drifting guest — 
 
 To l)uild a shield of courage round 
 
 The l)row, they said, was weakly crowned, 
 
 To fence that glory from all sore ; 
 
 His father long so nobly wore ; 
 
 Within whose arbor every ^vmg 
 
 Of feathered justice flew to sing. 
 
IK EX A 's LESSON. ()!)• 
 
 Unheedful of the hostile blast 
 'Till all its furious freaks were past ; 
 To melt in drops the heathen claim, 
 That no dishonor stain his name, 
 And nerve his own fierce arm to save 
 The warrior corse of pride a grave. 
 
 The Moslem waits without the walls 
 
 And illy brooks the taunting calls 
 
 From out the town's emliattled Ijrow 
 
 Those proud defenders fling him now. 
 
 Impatient as the steed he reigns, 
 
 To reap a recompense of pains 
 
 He sowed for many an anxious year, 
 
 Whose crimson harvest now was near. 
 
 Where soon the scythe that mows the breath 
 
 Should make in blood the hay of death. 
 
 " Is this the storm," the sultan spoke, 
 " That dints the rock and cracks the oak, 
 Or is it but a school-boy's rage 
 Fretting against his childhood cage, 
 That thus I hover, like a fly. 
 Around the glass of this thin sky 
 Which, like a tombless soldier, lies 
 Between me and my generous prize ? 
 Is this the way my rude sires wore 
 Their garbs of war on fields of yore ? 
 
70 IREXA's LESS()N. 
 
 Are those who form my army's prime 
 
 But leaves above the trunk of time 
 
 Whose tender texture, nascent yet, 
 
 The Ijeam may wiU- and winds may fret, — 
 
 The vigorous hosts at my command 
 
 One paltry momid of shifting sand, 
 
 O'er which the christian billow rolls 
 
 Annihilating their proud souls? — 
 
 AVith every thought, and dream, and word, 
 
 Yet ling'ring like a charmed bird 
 
 Still tluttering round this princely snake, 
 
 Nursing a spell that will not break. 
 
 " Though troop by troop and line Ijy line 
 
 They gather liere 'gainst me and mine, 
 
 By Allah ! and by all cHvine ! 
 
 By him who sleeps in Mecca's shrine ! 
 
 This haughty porcupine shall feel 
 
 Through all his shining quills of steel 
 
 Yon uncompassionating moon 
 
 Dance dirges o'er his ashes soon. 
 
 The snarling wolf shall richly feed 
 
 On Constantine and all his creed, 
 
 And vultures drink the chaliced flood 
 
 M}^ powers shall drain of tears and blood. 
 
 ' Farewell at last, thou long-famed town, 
 
 And far-esteemed,' as he goes doivn 
 
 Beyond the ploughed and blood-stained clay, 
 
IHEXa's LE8S0N. 71 
 
 To-morrow's gibing sun shall say. 
 Else may those hills that l^end around 
 Confederate to pile the mound 
 In which my fruitless veins shall sleep, 
 Than Blanc's white peak is high, more deep, 
 And kneel in scorn 'till they shall rust 
 Their knotted knees above my dust. 
 ]\Iay every gem of valor set 
 That lights the brow of Mahomet, 
 The moss and ivy's gloomy freight, 
 Drown deep the moss of glory's gate. 
 And may the way to victory's door 
 Be ever barred to Moslem more." 
 
 Far o'er the skies in zealous speed 
 And garbed in plumes of Koran creed, 
 With one wing pride, and one wing care. 
 Flew up to Heaven the sultan's prayer. 
 
 Ah, Constantine ! thy brain must ache 
 That thus thy slumbers surge and break. 
 With thought enough to burst thy l3reast, 
 There is no " Why dost thou not rest ? " 
 
 " I will not sleep ; I can not seal 
 My vision with this Avax of steel, 
 Or those swift globulets of lead 
 The sulphurous eyes of carnage shed 
 
72 ikena's lesson. 
 
 Tliat ere to-morrow's sky-lamp set 
 
 Shall drench the cheek of Mahomet, 
 
 Now fleeced in hope's Ijright chandeliers 
 
 AVith hideous stains and purple tears. 
 
 My country's drooping daftbdil, 
 
 All meek and weak, I love thee still. 
 
 Oh ! is there hrilje in earth or hell 
 
 To buy thee to the infidel, 
 
 To chain my kingdom where no l)eam 
 
 Of patriot pride may ever gleam, 
 
 Or pluck those dainty gems of mine 
 
 From off the breast on which they shine^, 
 
 Tear out the roots that angle down 
 
 The yellow sultsoil of my crown, 
 
 And melt to streams that may not flow 
 
 Its lustrous sheet of diamond snow ? 
 
 Forbid it, Heaven ; forljid it, Earth ; 
 
 Forbid it, peace, and truth, and worth ; 
 
 Forbid it, field, and vale, and wood ; 
 
 F'orljid it, all ye shades of good ; 
 
 F'orbid it, ye unburied brave ; 
 
 Forbid it, slumberers of the grave ! 
 
 Yes, Destiny, if thou decree'st 
 Such sacrament before the feast. 
 Divorce my senses from my soul 
 As far and cold as pole from pole ; 
 Let me not live to share the shame 
 
irena's lesson. 73 
 
 That spots my kingdom's writhing fame : 
 Here on this stormy bosom's wall 
 Let cone by cone the lead-flakes fall, 
 And may, O God ! it seem Thee best 
 To grant an old man's last request." 
 Thus the christian chieftain's prayer 
 Flowed up to Heaven through banks of air. 
 
 " 'Tis now a w^ary season past 
 Since I had word from Cyril last. 
 I often think at curfew chime 
 Of how we parted in the time 
 AVhen that unmisted sun arose 
 Which sired my many since-felt woes. 
 ITnguarded words and cold indeed 
 Occasioned why we disagreed. 
 A thoughtless girl, from limb to limb 
 I skipped aloft and toyed with him ; 
 Above in my coquettish beech 
 Preserved my perch beyond his reach, 
 Until at last I cooed in vain, 
 Forewent the goal I sought to gain, 
 And smiled with unsuspicious eye 
 While fate's wild wolf went prowling by. 
 
 " I did not dream in that rash hour 
 To cancel quite the siren power 
 I proudly knew that I possessed 
 
74 iim;naV lksson. 
 
 O'er oveiy thought honoath his hroast, 
 Or let this juice of })ri(le iseape 
 To tiiul mv heart so sour a grajK'. 
 Ah. shallow, false, aiul uuilc. (.•a]>rice! 
 Thou author of uiy soul's release 
 l"^-oni silkeu ehaius that ouee it wore — 
 lUu whieh I fear to wear nv more — 
 From every honil and everv snare 
 That 1 shall ever care to wear. 
 Thou hast no othee save to vex 
 TIk' needy soids of half our sex, 
 Alluring us in our white tlays 
 To wile, deceit, and frosty phrase, 
 Condenuiing- all who worshij) thee 
 To wither, each in hei- degree. 
 And fi-oni her heart let slip the dove 
 That ne'er reseeks her ark of love. 
 But in some new-horn orove a euest. 
 Selects a mate and frames a nest. 
 
 '• Here, on my life's unmasted hoat. 
 An unattractive waif 1 float. 
 And, charndess on its harren ]>r(>w. 
 Who is there left to love me now? 
 
 " No matter. There are some more fair 
 With deei>er sores of want and care. 
 1 have no louiiiuii- to suniilv. 
 
IKKNA S I.KSSON. / !) 
 
 But, like a hroidcrcMl luittcrtly. 
 
 Forsake my t'hrv.silis of griel'. 
 
 And bask niv \viii.cs from leaf to leaf. 
 
 N.ot free as 1, this locust host 
 
 That swarui in clouds around our t'oast. 
 
 Those leeches ]>icked hoin Moslem uuid 
 
 That eome to drain our kingdom's Mood. 
 
 Not gay as 1, my own sick land 
 
 With pink-eyed slaughter's hurning hrand 
 
 Thrust, like a lighthou.^e through the storm, 
 
 Against her gray and gasping form. 
 
 " Oh, for a ])ro])het's voice and stall 
 To grave my country's e]»ita])h ! 
 Now, my warped nation, comes the hour 
 That ])lucks thy faithless (|uill of ]»ower; 
 Thy life assumes its yellow U'af, 
 Thy heart is frozen stiif with grief. 
 Thou art thyself as gray a thing, 
 Thou do/y kingdom, as thy king. 
 Bear witness, ye who heai- my voice, 
 Ye wlio eome through fear or choice, 
 Constantinople's towers will fall. 
 And all Avho fight around her wall 
 Shall slee]) unwakened till the roar 
 Of con(jUest shall resound no more: 
 For those anear and those afar 
 The full, impartial loom of Avar 
 
76 irp:na's lesson. 
 
 Shall weave one common shroud whose thread 
 Will thicken o'er the lanceless dead, 
 Its warp and woof be blood and dust 
 Raked from the soil in which they rust. 
 
 " Tell me, ye hosts wliom I survey. 
 
 Ye frail ephemera of to-day. 
 
 Proud warriors, when your brows grow cold,, 
 
 The price for which your lives are sold. 
 
 Glory ? Ah ! is this the prize 
 
 For which you blacken the blue skies, 
 
 Stab the repose of crowns and thrones, 
 
 And floor the earth with bleaching bones ? 
 
 Glory ? Will some champion tried 
 
 Step hitherward and by my side 
 
 Explain what pearl, or star, or creed, 
 
 Is this for which he pines to bleed ? 
 
 This game you seek a gem must be 
 
 That I, methinks, would like to see. 
 
 High Heaven ! let hell, or convex earth, 
 
 Say which of these records its birth. 
 
 Within what month does glory bud, 
 
 What is the tint of glory's blood ; 
 
 Or is she of such 2:)recious grain 
 
 A rainbow flows through each blue vein ? 
 
 In what strange pasture here below 
 
 Does this rare weed of summer grow ? 
 
 What, prithee, may for milk and meat 
 
irena's li:sson. 77 
 
 This prowler of the jungle eat ? 
 How many weeks, her lakes among, 
 Does she require to hatch her young ? 
 Was it at midnight, noon, or morn, 
 This sacrilegious imp was born ? 
 Has she a face to fieclge the lyre ? 
 Who was her matron, who her sire ? 
 
 " Avaunt with glory ! Fie, thou slave ! 
 I have observed the tear, the grave. 
 The April flower, the shallow guile. 
 The falling snow-flake, and the smile 
 That flatt'ry glues to her thin lips. 
 The bubl^le, gossamer, eclipse. 
 And all the roll of nothings, down 
 To my own monarch's frowzy crown : 
 Not e'en the feather of a naught 
 Escapes the searching lens of thought : 
 There's something tangible, some seal 
 We all may see, we all may feel. 
 E'en in the outcast grain of sand 
 That wantons on some desert strand ; 
 But, on that sea of salt we shed 
 In memory of the murdered dead. 
 Where is the quivering victim who. 
 Beaded in 's blood-drops peering through 
 His microscopic bayonet. 
 Has ever glimpsed at glory yet ? 
 
78 irena's lesson. 
 
 Poor soldier, burst those flexile chains 
 That choke the wine within thy veins 
 And crush, despite thy scarlet steel, 
 This painted Inig beneath thy heel. 
 
 " Why do I thus soliloquize 
 
 Of kingly webs and human flies ; 
 
 A\'hy do I talk when none are near 
 
 To censure, praise, or cross me here ? 
 
 I know full well an idiot race 
 
 Will still maintain its wayward chase ; 
 
 It has been so from Adam on ; 
 
 It will be so when I am gone. 
 
 " I wonder what new fly-wheel now 
 Rotates in <Jyrirs busy brow ; 
 Or does the stage on mem'ry's track 
 And love's swift horses bear him back 
 To pleasant peace and boyhood scenes 
 His manhood lost in life's ravines ? 
 I know not now, if evermore 
 He knocks at dead affection's door ; 
 But, if to him my name's still dear, 
 I pledge one penitential tear 
 For all the part that falls to me 
 Whose cold white fangs I failed to see. 
 Too late, when I entrapped the game, 
 The pilot of reflection came, 
 
irena's lesson. 79 
 
 And so the bark that promised most 
 Was wrecked on reason's leeward coast. 
 
 " It oddly sounds in me to sny, 
 
 Despite my froward, wilful way, 
 
 My past demeanor and wild tongue 
 
 Whose chordless notes w^ere random-strung. 
 
 That I have ever dined with love, 
 
 Have ever worn the lily glove. 
 
 Or schooled my heart to break its spell ; 
 
 Yet, Cyril ! I have loved thee well. 
 
 " 'Tis over. Well, what care I then, 
 A dew-drop on the fields of men ? 
 Ere yon great traveler of the air 
 Has combed and curled his" amber hair, 
 Has passed six mile-stones in the sky, 
 The leaf I trembled on is dry, — 
 A grape seed for some gilded gnat. 
 Aha ! 'tis consolation that. 
 However high the fop may soar, 
 He flies his circuit and no more ; 
 That, when his somersault is thrown, 
 He nestles in the seas alone ; 
 That he, too, his poor caper played, 
 Must seek, like me, some lowly shade. 
 I should regret to harp in vain 
 A single disconcerted strain : 
 
80 IK EN A 's LESSON. 
 
 I condescend to watch and wait 
 To swing awhile on fortune's gate, 
 And harass none ; nor will I ask 
 What slumhers for me, when I l)ask 
 Upon the housetop of my prime, 
 Within the mystic womh of time. 
 
 " List to the murmur of those l)ands 
 Assembled here from distant lands, 
 Like grass-blades lolling Ijreast to breast 
 On some wide })rairie of the west. 
 AVhere'er I turn, the hills reveal 
 A sleeping wilderness of steel 
 Beneath yon shyly shining moon. 
 As silvery as the cold lagoon 
 That spurns some insult unforgiven 
 And flings her })icture Ijack to heaven. 
 
 " Aml)iti()us chief who play'st the game 
 Of death and chance, wilt thou proclaim 
 The profit of thy cjuest so inv 
 For one sick, eyeless mole of war ; 
 Or is't, vain-glorious peacock, pride 
 Tliat lures thee from thy heatlien liride 
 T' exhibit here with sword and sail 
 The tints of thy capacious tail ? 
 Lean lightly on the warrior blocks, 
 C'linked dee}) among the i)umice rocks, 
 
irexa'8 lesson. 81 
 
 That constituto the temple, sire, 
 Of which thou art the slender spire. 
 While christian huntsman baits the net 
 Whose strands have failed to toil thee vet, 
 Parade thy plumage, gaudy fool, 
 Strut round the walls of Istamboul, 
 Fill out the cheeks of thy bright hour, 
 Display thy pomp, enjoy tliy power, 
 Lest some Delilah might at length 
 Betray thy locks and cheat thy strength. 
 
 " The night is growing and a robe 
 Of jetty silence wraps the glol)e. 
 No sound is heard along the vale, 
 Save thy calm song, sad nightingale. 
 The sultan sleeps and does not heed 
 The music of thy tribe and creed. 
 Thy glossy chords, lone philomel, 
 Are lost, unless thou weav'st some s})ell 
 To fill the empty ears of sleep 
 With soothing harmony, or keep 
 Some Ranic measure whose rare art 
 May suit the quicksteps of thy heart, 
 Pin wings upon the hours of night 
 And clothe them with a swifter flight. 
 
 " Dost thou observe yon slumljering form 
 Whom thousands wake to fence from harm? 
 
82 ii;i:na's lksson. 
 
 He is tlie lord of fertile lands, 
 
 Of docile slaves and servile bands ; 
 
 On every tield, on t'vt'ry wave, 
 
 He flies his flag to gorge the grave ; 
 
 From clime to clime his cannon ring, 
 
 And nations kneel to crown him king. 
 
 His haughty soul is hnried deep, 
 
 Deep down the hillowy gulf of sleep, 
 
 While, from thy bowery palace, thou 
 
 Oom'st forth to rule his kingdom now. 
 
 "Sweet little queen, would'st thou exchange, 
 
 Among thy mates, thy summer range 
 
 In sparkling May or mellower June 
 
 Thy lowly nest or ])laintive tune 
 
 For all the s])ottrd eticpiette 
 
 That ever moi'ked a sultan yet? 
 
 '' His em})ire is a ])atch oi light, 
 
 And thinr the semi-globe of night ; 
 
 His guards and guides are l)ull)s of clay, 
 
 But moons and stars secure thy way ; 
 
 His favored eyes have never seen 
 
 The sacred hands that crowned thee (jueen. 
 
 That fashioned, while thy speech was young 
 
 A scepter in thy dulcet tongue. 
 
 Thy robes, though ]>lain, are still tliy own, 
 
 The daisy cu|) thy ampk> thrcMie. 
 
IKKN^A S LESSON. < 
 
 And those meek jewels that iipfioat 
 Along the channel of thy throat, 
 No proiul pacha's far-marsliallcd lines 
 Can ever glean from Indian mines. 
 
 "Strange thoughts! still I would not forsake 
 My right to swim in fancy's lake ; 
 These mental wanderings suffice 
 To seal the past's unwelcome eyes. 
 Still the old theme absorbs my ^xiind, 
 And something tells me how unkind 
 I acted some short months ago 
 When my vain pranks served Cyril so. 
 
 " How unexplainaljle is love ! 
 
 Beneath, around, afar,- above. 
 
 On coast or billow, everywhere 
 
 As universal as the air : 
 
 And yet, of all these many men, 
 
 ^Vhat two would chime concordance, when 
 
 They told beside the camp fire pale 
 
 Their early manhood's tender tale ? 
 
 Will one sage volunteer define 
 
 This happy nothing, this weird sign 
 
 Hung out at Heaven's office, — dot 
 
 Of something, and we know not what ? 
 
 Let him command whate'er he ask 
 
 Who executes Irena's task. 
 
84 irena's lesson. 
 
 " When winter sets on all below 
 His far-extending seal of snow, 
 Look upward through the darkened air, 
 Count the wliite insects sporting there ; 
 Tell, one b}' one, the leaves that fall 
 To weave the earth's autumnal pall ; 
 Let staid, pedantic schools pronounce 
 With reason's steelyards, ounce by ounce, 
 How much may be in its green robe 
 The circling weight of this vast globe ; 
 Enumerate the grains of dust 
 That constitute its massive crust ; 
 Persuade the unimpassioned lake 
 Never again its trance to break, 
 Or fright the ocean's stormy brow 
 To quiet with a hazel l;)ough ; 
 Induce the moon to scant her power, 
 Delay her course but one blank hour ; 
 Go, when the snarling thundercloud 
 LTnfolds, that, like a weeping shroud, 
 Doth waste in grief o'er that dead day 
 From which it shuts the soul away ; 
 Range the deep skies from end to end 
 And tc^ll those tears as they descend ; 
 Reverse the drift of nature's plan 
 And then translate the heart of man : 
 Pick from the drapery hung on high 
 Those shining cherries of the sky, 
 
irena's lesson. 85 
 
 Prevent those wheels to roll above, 
 Then write for me the laws of love." 
 
 The maiden's crank, loquacious share 
 Of random thought, usurped her prayer. 
 
 " Irena, still my visions cruise 
 
 On waters I am loth to choose. 
 
 All Cyril's hopes long since have set ; 
 
 Nor can my spirit soon forget 
 
 The avalanche thou thunderest down 
 
 Demolishing an entire town 
 
 Of thrifty fancies thy sly art 
 
 Had planted in this cheated heart, 
 
 With foliage every street o'erspread, 
 
 Upon my unprecautioned head. 
 
 Thou strange, unfathomaljle girl 
 
 My much-remembered, long-lost pearl, 
 
 I have adored thee in my day 
 
 As none on God's green footstool may. 
 
 Although I could but treasure long 
 
 As unforgivable the wrong, 
 
 Without the motive such demands. 
 
 That I have suffered at thy hands ; 
 
 Still my grieved soul misgives me, still 
 
 Some feeling ripples dow^n the hill 
 
 Of dear remembrance, some sky dream 
 
 Flies through the bushes by the stream, 
 
86 irexa's lessox. 
 
 And castles that the air once wore 
 
 Grow loftier than they loomed of yore, 
 
 Till thy supremacy o'erflows 
 
 The meadows of my joys and woes, 
 
 And all I have, no longer mine, 
 
 Of peace and truth is sieved to thine. 
 
 Though now 'twill never l)e my part 
 
 To gather blossoms from thy heart, 
 
 Still in my bosom's orchard, may 
 
 The Ijright fruit cluster, and the play 
 
 Of thy caprices undisturbed, 
 
 Diseaseless, rapturous, and uncurl)ed, 
 
 Forever wheel in fortune's sight 
 
 Till the eagle of thy life alight, 
 
 And thy mild soul discard its cage 
 
 Of clay, to read a smoother page 
 
 Than this l:)lithe world, with all its cheer, 
 
 Could e'er bequeathe to lure thee here." 
 
 The flowers, the willows, the gaimt trees, 
 Their lyric freightage, and the l)reeze. 
 Assumed a deferential air 
 And chimed amen to Cyril's praj'er. 
 
 " All, all is over ; nevermore 
 Shall Constantine his ills deplore, 
 For death's full period ends the strife. 
 This troiil^led sentence of mv life. 
 
irena's lesson. 87 
 
 Oh ! what an oceanfiil of groans 
 Attend on sick and aching thrones ; 
 With what excrnciating thouglit 
 Is dissohition's advent fraught. 
 And what an armament of Ijliss 
 Is wrecked in such an hour as this, 
 When death flits up from his darlc place 
 And perches on the whitening face. 
 Sweet Heaven ! Best diadem of all, 
 Let mercy, like thy sunbeams, fall 
 Upon my miseries and o'ercloud 
 With brightness my ensanguined shroud, 
 That no rude eye shall ever keep 
 Its vulture watch where I shall sleep. 
 
 " Farewell, my country. Sad decree ! 
 Thou, too, art dying. Come with me. 
 They wdll prepare thee some lone tomb 
 In history's churchyard, where thy doom, 
 Thy birthplace, deathplace, and thy age. 
 May occupy one paltry page ; 
 And some rude flower may droop its head 
 In sorrow o'er thy throneless dead. 
 Some heedless bird, perchance, may stray 
 Around the caverns of my clay. 
 Her low memoriam to sing, 
 Above the cinders of a king. — 
 There's something rooting up my l)reath, 
 
88 irena's lesson. 
 
 Deal gently with me, Avolf of death ! — 
 Thy ebon ax and crescent knife 
 Ai'e nibbling at my strings of life. 
 Unconscienced fiend ! AVhy wilt thou stand 
 There with thy Gilead in thy hand, 
 And smile to taste my agony ? Do 
 Thy direst now, and riot through 
 The few torn nerves that still remain ; 
 Dig up my senses, rust my Ijrain, 
 Pluck out my heart, gnaw oil" my head. 
 
 Life's shadow's passing. I am ." 
 
 His lips refused to say the word ; 
 No feature of the monarch stirred, 
 But death's fell tracks are ghastly seen 
 Along the clay of Constantine. 
 
 " Now, Mahomet, thy task is o'er, 
 
 My barge is moored on victory's shore. 
 
 This tragic day, at last is done. 
 
 The fays have buried the dead sun 
 
 In 's midnight cemetery, hurled 
 
 1* roni his sway o'er a frivolous world. 
 
 All now^ is silent, where so late 
 
 The factory of the thunder sate 
 
 Outdealing danger, fear, and death. 
 
 With each deep sulphur-burdened breath,, 
 
 And carrying its cloud-blots even 
 
 Up to th' angelic face of Heaven. 
 
I REN A 'S LESSON. 89 
 
 There is do sounding of the steel 
 
 That trembled in the fiendish zeal 
 
 Of those who stained the lustrous flood 
 
 Of silver round it, with the blood 
 
 That spurted from their bosom when 
 
 Their lances sapped the souls of men. 
 
 I saw to-day a soldier. He 
 
 Had slain another. In the free, 
 
 Licentious, fury of his art. 
 
 He had uptorn his neighbor's heart 
 
 Through pastime, with an eye unwet. 
 
 Fixed on his blunted bayonet, 
 
 I saw it beating in the beams 
 
 Of noonday sunshine ; the red streams 
 
 Least clotted of its scanty stores. 
 
 Were oozing through the crusted pores. 
 
 As if it rolled the bubbling tide 
 
 To light anew its warrior's pride. 
 
 " Sad spectacle ! Lideed, I thought 
 
 That mother would be grieved who brought 
 
 This man to being, could she see 
 
 His heart paled on this iron tree ; 
 
 Some father in his tears be drowned 
 
 To learn the fate his son had found ; 
 
 A brother, sister, and a friend. 
 
 In pity-moving sorrow, blend 
 
 Their briny tribute of regret. 
 
>9() iukna's lesson. 
 
 To think how dark that hfe had set 
 Which often phimed its infant powers, 
 To paint the peace of other .hours 
 When he and they, l:)eneath the shade 
 Together once in childhood, played. 
 Some maiden will be lonely now, 
 For he will never keep the vow 
 He made at parting ; all her care 
 A^^ls centered in that center wliere 
 The lance supports it, which no loom 
 Of love will ever weave in bloom. 
 This too is over; and the friend 
 AA'ho gloated o'er his victim, screened 
 By no one claim of mercy, 's flown 
 To his Almighty j\Iaker's throne. 
 
 " To-day I have been favored ; dressed 
 
 In the gauzy gown of victory, blessed. 
 
 With jaunty wreaths have I been crowned, 
 
 In glory's synagogue been found, 
 
 Have basked beside the conqueror's si)ring, 
 
 O'erthrown a kingdom and a king, 
 
 Subdued an army, have undone 
 
 The toil of centuries lost and won, 
 
 And fixed the fame of Mahomet 
 
 'Till the mystic globe of time shall set. 
 
 " And yet a sense of sadness cliills 
 My bosom, 'mong these crimson hills. 
 
IRENA s lp:ss()X. 91 
 
 Reposing in the noon of niglit 
 
 Beneath the melancliolv hght 
 
 Of those far stars, and overspread 
 
 With l:)lankets of the matted dead. 
 
 I see, wherever I repair, 
 
 A thousand ghastly gateways where 
 
 The souls of valiant men to-day 
 
 Have trickled through their pulpy elay. 
 
 Through trampled faces some have come, 
 
 Through lacerated bosoms some, 
 
 AVhile other spirits whose stout forms 
 
 Were shaken into threads 'neath storms 
 
 Of steel-bolts with their brimstone leaven 
 
 Have gone in fragments up to Heaven, 
 
 Or dripped in gore-drops down to hell. 
 
 What is it asks me, ' Is tliis well ? ' 
 
 Perhaps some merry lad whose frame 
 
 Was rent to atoms, held good claim 
 
 To diverse habitations, led 
 
 Mayhap a checkered life, and fed , 
 
 On the alluring vines of vice. 
 
 Or gamed with virtue's testy dice. 
 
 Till, halting at this deadly dyke. 
 
 His merits and his faults alike. 
 
 He sent his separated soul, 
 
 Each portion, to its proper goal, — 
 
 The dark division, to those cells 
 
 Where wretchedness eternal dwells ; 
 
92 ikkxa's lesson. 
 
 Tlie ric-her, though the smaller, sod 
 Up to the flowery throne of God. 
 
 Mahomet! what eyes will Imrn 
 About their sockets in the urn 
 
 Of vengeance when they see thee cast 
 From the rock of thy ambition ; last 
 Of many myriads whom thy pride 
 Hath launched in slaughter's Judas-tide.. 
 
 "Aside, 3'e cankerous thoughts! uncere 
 Your wings, nor league your minions here 
 With noxious summerflies like these 
 To crop the herbage of my ease. 
 Make way for lighter guests, and yield 
 To chaster themes the mind's free field. 
 
 1 wonder who it was, — that maid 
 I noticed in to-day's parade, 
 AVlio filled my bosom with a thrill 
 That leaves it pained and vacant still. 
 Through all the bustle of this day 
 Her image has been in my way, 
 Since first I saw her in the street 
 Forcing a wildered, faint retreat 
 Against such cataract as flows 
 
 'Twixt jangling friends and furious foes. 
 My thoughts have grown upon her. She,, 
 And she alone, is all I see. 
 A parasitic mistletoe 
 
irexa's lesson. 93 
 
 Among her genial leaves I grow, 
 And find ambition, shelter, peace, 
 As fuller hours advance, increase. 
 Of this meek, fascinating Greek 
 A Ijroader knowledge I must seek : 
 Yet patiently I watch and wait ; 
 The future must unload its freight. 
 Now I recline upon the breast 
 •Of good old mother earth to rest. 
 The spheres are glimmering in my sight, 
 Ye living, and ye dead, good night." 
 
 "After all this moil and ill 
 
 I find myself Irena still. 
 
 A nation has been fractured, yoked ; 
 
 As if it were a kitten, choked 
 
 In the pond of glory ; nevermore 
 
 To waul or pur on her old shore. 
 
 saw, fragile as the flower I give 
 
 To her sad memory, T yet live ; 
 
 While thousands of her champions stanch 
 
 Whose massive energies might craunch 
 
 My system to an eml)er, sleep 
 
 In downy silence. 
 
 " I could keep 
 My watchings for a hundred years 
 Beside them, wrapped in smiles and tears, 
 
94 ikexa's lesson. 
 
 And chatter with them kindly, speak 
 
 Of tender things, pat the cold cheek. 
 
 And tell them curious odds and ends 
 
 ( )f once beloved and trusty friends, 
 
 And still no syllable outstarts 
 
 From the white lips or pulsaless hsirts 
 
 Of those serene reposers : they 
 
 Sigh no answer to the words I weigh ; 
 
 The nerveless and discourteous ear 
 
 Accepts no note of scorn or cheer ; 
 
 They have no peevish murmurings, 
 
 No millionaires, no creeds, no kings ; 
 
 Here, side by side, one cavalcade 
 
 Of unambitious warriors laid, 
 
 The haught, bright sun's unbending glare 
 
 Frowns on their unshut eyes with rare, 
 
 Fierce majesty from oat his chink 
 
 Of azure, and they do not wink. 
 
 Though I should smite their faces, stain 
 
 Their pale foreheads, though the wild rain 
 
 And bitter winds should rudely swee}) 
 
 The pillows of their peaceful sleep, 
 
 No pining, discontented word 
 
 'Mong this dire group is ever heard. 
 
 Mysterious change ! Strange ebl) and flow ! 
 
 Ah ! yesterday it was not so ; 
 
 For all those now otfenseless men 
 
 Were blasphemous in battle then. 
 
ikena's lesson. . 05 
 
 " Alone and friendless, may 1 praise 
 The happy scenes of other days ? 
 Wliy doth my star of sorrow set? 
 I have an eye can shame him yet. 
 That was a meek and virtuous dawn, — 
 I mai-ked her step across the lawn, — 
 And, as I rose that morn to drink 
 On(.' joyous draught, ah ! did I think 
 A snake so fell in its foul slime 
 Lay coiled within that tuft of time? 
 But all that l)liss 1 know no more ; 
 My dream of love 's forever o'er. 
 
 " Ijounteous Heaven ! 'mong all thy stores, 
 To lowly man to soothe his sores, 
 Thou hast no treasure thou canst send 
 More priceless than a faithful friend. 
 Though swinish fate deal out his dole, 
 Root up the fiower-beds of my soul. 
 And rasp his cursed hone-bladed knife 
 Against the fibers of my life ; 
 Though stormy days be slow to close 
 In sunshine, and rebuke my foes ; 
 Though fate and envy strain the rack ; 
 Though l)ristling fear beset my track ; 
 Though mouse-jawed fiend, by dark or day, 
 (hiaw at each nerve that tunes my clay ; 
 With sootv hand come rnde despair 
 
96 ikexa's lesson. 
 
 To soil the lace that hope should wear, 
 And snatch from off lier trenil)ling form 
 The last frail shred that fenced the storm 
 Though every hair upon my head 
 Suspend an oak whose leaves are lead, 
 And in its branches scream and sing- 
 Each boding bird that grief can wing, 
 While on its moss-grown, Ijarky wall 
 The slimy toads and lizards crawl ; 
 Though chill neglect and aspic scorns 
 Dig up my soul to plant their tliorns; — 
 I ask, though all these ills befell, 
 But one true friend to brave them all. 
 
 " But who is yonder messenger? 
 
 He does not seem to sleep or stir. 
 
 His glances all converge this way, 
 
 Like a fish hawk settling on some prey. 
 
 He gazes at me, as if I 
 
 Were some intruder, or a spy. 
 
 As if I bore this smudged tophaike 
 
 For its own worth or beauty's sake, 
 
 Or as, perchance, if I possessed 
 
 One merit more than loads his breast. 
 
 He's coming. Let me close attend." 
 
 " Good-morrow, maiden." 
 
 " My strange friend, 
 
irena's lesson. 97 
 
 Good-nioiTow." 
 
 " Art thou Will to-day, 
 " Fair ladyship ? " 
 
 " Sir, they do say, 
 Despite some twinges in my breast. 
 That I am well, who know me best, 
 And so, I think, I am." 
 
 " But test 
 Me plainly, lady, how is this ? 
 Thou metaphored'st annoyance, Miss, 
 That seemingly steps in to vex 
 Thy spirit witli un\\'holesome checks." 
 
 " And if I did, Sir, I opine 
 
 'Tis my affair and none of tliine." 
 
 "Chaste maid, more softly ; rash offense 
 Was never twin to judgment, sense. 
 Or dignified behaivor ; I 
 Only sought to smooth the sigh 
 That ran so roughly o'er thy soul : 
 'Tis stormy where such l^reakers roll." 
 
 " Oh ! not so deeply, as I think 
 Thou deemest, my complainings sink 
 In this roiled bosom. I have naught 
 Wherein thy sympathy is sought. 
 
98 irexa's lesson. 
 
 What favor, ween yoii, one receives 
 From him in whom she disbeheves?" 
 
 " But, lady, tliough tlie past should wheel 
 Beyond my power to prune or lieal, 
 Yet something of the present might 
 Find searoom in my appetite 
 To do thee benefit, some free, 
 Spontaneous gift to better thee. 
 That might prove janitor, indeed, 
 To loose tliee from the vice of need. 
 Or aid thee in a future liour 
 When even friendship's sky would lower. 
 Bright lady, let a stranger task 
 Thee now to answer what I ask. 
 I fain would learn the lesson how 
 Thy life hath pleased thee until now; 
 Thy injuries and tliy joys proclaim 
 Thy history, nation, creed, and name." 
 
 "Then, soldier, hear the simjile tale 
 That scuds before a narrow sail. 
 1 know I can not aught impart 
 To interest or warm thy heart, 
 Nor would I, if I eould, T should 
 Be recreant to my womanhood, 
 Were I to stoop before thy face 
 With servile port or anxious pace 
 
ikena's lesson. t)9 
 
 To nullify thy full desire 
 
 On every head thou mayst require." 
 
 " Perhaps 'twere well that thou shouldst know, 
 
 Eire thou displayed'st this calico 
 
 If peevish independence, what 
 
 A sentinel inhedged thy cot 
 
 Of arrogance, and him, with whom 
 
 It is, thou ventur'st to presume. 
 
 Then, haughty maiden, I am he 
 
 To whom those armies bend the knee, 
 
 To whom they surge, for whom they pray 
 
 Through desperate night or drowzy day. 
 
 Thou ask'st for whom they bleed and die ? 
 
 Then know, proud lady; he is I. 
 
 I bid them go, and, like a sea 
 
 Rolled in a storm, they heave and flee 
 
 And leave behind them in the wake 
 
 Of conquiest which their rudders take. 
 
 Bleak desolation's fetid waves 
 
 Whose bubbles are but soldiers' graves. 
 
 A nation's pride I frown upon : 
 
 'Twas, yesterday ; to-day, 'tis gone. 
 
 There 's a town-clock in the minaret 
 
 Of fame keeps ticking Mah-o-met. 
 
 And so, I flatter me, 'twill tick 
 
 For ages in its frame of brick. 
 
 Yet thou, a woman, fragiler than 
 
IW IKENA's LEl-HCN. 
 
 This lily's petal, foil'st my plan 
 Of more consumate pleasure, wliik- 
 
 " Twere better, couldst thou reconcile 
 
 This Ycinity with thy lost host 
 
 Than daunt a maid with such a l)oast. 
 
 Unfix a period, if thou may. 
 
 At where thou halt'st, to cut away 
 
 The whole succeeding herd of wrongs 
 
 To which thy list of vaunts belongs. 
 
 Although thou shouldst crush empires, though 
 
 Thou shouldst load down this earth with woe, 
 
 And swim thy navies in the flood 
 
 Thou drainest of thy fellows' blood ; 
 
 Because thy cheeks be blotched with gore 
 
 Must T, forsooth, regard thee more? 
 
 " Thou seek'st imperative and stern 
 The story of my life to learn. 
 I will not shriidv, e'en here, to tell 
 The chapter I have read too well ; 
 Nor shall the sultan's dainty plusli 
 Weave o'er my cheek one l^ashful blush. 
 My life, sir, was of little worth. 
 For aught I wot of, ere my Ijirtli ; 
 And ever since that bridge I crossed 
 Which l)a]ances on either coast 
 Of something, and of nothing, dust 
 
irena's lesson. 101 
 
 And being, I have feit the must 
 Rise round me of my uselessness, , 
 And someivay feel that worth grow less. 
 
 " A few briglit hours and glad confreres, 
 
 Home smiles, some curses, and some prayer^. 
 
 Some sunshine, and some hopes of dew 
 
 That melted as it warmer grew, 
 
 Some gay soirees and happy friends 
 
 Whose exit with their coming blends, 
 
 A packetful of thorns and tares, 
 
 Of disappointments, buffs, and cares. 
 
 Of fond opinions trimmed and crossed, 
 
 Conceits unhorsed, and favors lost, 
 
 Of fancy's harebells trampled on. 
 
 Of opportunities foregone, 
 
 Of here and there some darkened spot 
 
 Afloat within me, w'here the hot. 
 
 Remorseless wheels of flattery's cart. 
 
 In passing by, had scorched my heart; 
 
 Of whims, caprices, and success, 
 
 Anxiety, and happiness. 
 
 Of want and plenty, doubt, delay. 
 
 Of moves aright, and steps astray. 
 
 Of barren places in my breast 
 
 Where death, the black-beaked crow, oppressed 
 
 His vitals with the sprouting corn 
 
 Of my young comrades, rudely torn, 
 
lO'i ikkna's LKSSO.N. 
 
 In tlie dawn of my existence, far 
 
 From tlieir fields to those broad gates ajar, 
 
 They speak of, in the l)ended sky, 
 
 Where thy gross soul can never Hy : 
 
 Some triumphs, and some failures, hate 
 
 And gentleness, revenge and fate, 
 
 Ingratitude and kiiuhiess, [)ain 
 
 And pleasure, envy and disdain, — 
 
 All knit and wound together, mixed 
 
 In strange copartnership, and fixed 
 
 By no unchanging l)ase or law ; 
 
 These, my lord vizier, pacha, 
 
 Or prophet, whichsoever name 
 
 Thy majesty may court or claim, — 
 
 All these, besprinkled o'er with tears, 
 
 kSecurely hooped and cased in fears, 
 
 Well ballasted ^vith groans and sighs 
 
 For idle losses and the prize 
 
 Imagination sculptured out 
 
 Of some far-quarried block of doul)t ; 
 
 As thickly as the tropic snake 
 
 O'erchequered with misfortune's flake, 
 
 These constitute the alphabet 
 
 Which I have learned, — am learning yet : 
 
 On all its poles, and zones, and shores, 
 
 Profusely spiced with aches and sores. 
 
 These elements have formed, combined 
 
 In strange proportions and inclined 
 
ikena's lesson. lOo 
 
 AVitli liiciny fertile sails of strife. 
 My small revolving globe of life." 
 
 " A curious history and, mes.^ems, 
 That all men's lives afibrd such dreams. 
 Fair lady, thou hast painted all 
 The colors of our rise and ftill 
 Adown th' accelerated course 
 (Jf our existence, Avith faint force. 
 What thou has scheduled for thyself 
 Is common ware on every shelf 
 Of frail humanity ; divines, 
 All christians, — those blank, lureless signs 
 Of something, — moslems, pagans, jews 
 And statesmen, monarchs, and their crews 
 Of beggars, heroes, jurists, slaves. 
 Philanthropists, and czars, and knaves, 
 Historians, philosophers. 
 And officers of state, those burs 
 That pest society, the friend, the foe. 
 And each poltroon who sweats below. 
 Might, if he would, himself unfold 
 The selfsame tale which thou hast told. 
 But, maiden, there is one great theme 
 Which thou o'erlook'st, one vast dream 
 That tempers in a trance refined. 
 Each in his season, all mankind : 
 Or hast thou always been, fair dove, 
 A stranger at the feast of love ? " 
 
104 irena's lesson. 
 
 "Thy highness touches on a spell 
 
 Which never brooked a law, nor cell, 
 
 Whose silken ensigns far-unfnrled 
 
 Have veiled the face of all the world. 
 
 Love plays a spruce, peculiar part ; 
 
 His seeds are hid in every heart. 
 
 In some, unendingly it sleeps 
 
 Unfruitful, and, in others, creeps 
 
 Out to see the sunshine ; sometimes, first 
 
 With mildness, but, more often, nursed 
 
 W^ith inappreciation, till 
 
 At last it blooms beside the rill 
 
 Of mutual regard to bright 
 
 Enjoyment of its golden light, 
 
 Or through neglect, through death, deceit, 
 
 ( )r no harmonious heart to beat 
 
 Full music to the strain it ])lays, 
 
 Tt sours, and sickens, and decays, 
 
 'Till nothing now but sandstones roll 
 
 O'er the dry valleys of the soul. 
 
 Ah ! 'tis the sweetest blossom even 
 
 In th' imperial brow of Heaven ! 
 
 Yes, warrior, in my better days 
 
 I dreamed, like others, but the rays, 
 
 By me no more to be beheld, 
 
 A darkened heart has long repelled. 
 
 And, when reflections still recall 
 
 Those thrones, the saddest of them all 
 
IRENA 'S LESSON. lOo 
 
 Is that my hand impaired the wing, 
 That my strained venom armed the sting 
 Which, seorpion-hke, was doomed to turn 
 On my own pride to freeze and burn, 
 And drain another soul-tide low 
 Whose fullness none but me could know 
 
 " sultan, there are some young hearts 
 
 That grow together, counterparts 
 
 Of one another, each to each. 
 
 Who thrive in love beyond the reach 
 
 Of other hearts to separate 
 
 The flowery ties themselves create ; 
 
 And, yet, how often one rude thought 
 
 Reciprocally, sharply caught. 
 
 The idle word, one slight, has bm^st 
 
 Those bonds asunder and dispersed 
 
 The fairy trances that have flown 
 
 So long around the silken throne 
 
 Of their affections, while the eye 
 
 Grows hollow, and the blood-fires die, 
 
 And some huge serpent trails his length. 
 
 Opposes his repulsive strength 
 
 Of falseness on unyielding pride 
 
 To make the breach more deep and wide, 
 
 'Till reconciliation's brow grows wan, 
 
 And the last plank of hope is gone. 
 
 Sire, none of all my playmates feel 
 
lOf) irena's lesson. 
 
 So much as I this truth of steel ; 
 But such was fortuue's harsh decree. 
 AVhate'er I am, was meant to be." 
 
 " Good lady, let the curtains close 
 Round those imaginary woes. 
 Those marbles of thy youth are lost, 
 Those early buds are nipped with frost, 
 Mere playthings, viewed in reason's blaze, 
 And let them pass with childhood's days. 
 Sweet Avoman, wilt thou cast aside 
 This dust and be a sultan's bride? 
 \Yi\i thou return with me and fill 
 My palace witli thy grace ? " 
 
 " I will." 
 
 " I have some maidens in my home 
 Of splendor, but thyself shalt roam 
 The Cjueen of all my mistresses. 
 AA^ilt thou accept the scepter? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " AVhen wilt thou pledge this holy vow ? " 
 "My kind friend, I am ready now." 
 
irexa's lesson. 107 
 
 Irena's star is bright at last 
 
 Far up in fortune's azure vast, 
 
 Yet Cyril's humble name awliile 
 
 Beclouds the verdure of her smile. 
 
 Full often in the buoyant hour 
 
 Of ^\ine, and love, and lawless power, 
 
 Here floating on the gaud of wealth, 
 
 And gemmed with friends and sparkling health, 
 
 How smooth her streams of life may flow. 
 
 We have no rash desire to know. 
 
 Nor is it meet that we report 
 
 Her pastime in the paynim court. 
 
 A few brief months have taken wings 
 
 And slumber with departed things, 
 
 The sultan lolls in all his pride, 
 
 His chiefs of staff are at his side ; 
 
 Beset by friends, unchafed by foes, 
 
 The rising breeze of converse IjIows. 
 
 "And yet, pacha, how strange it is 
 That each base serf should deem as his 
 The right to cross or criticize 
 Whatever lures delight thy eyes ? 
 "Tis sad, indeed,' the soldiers say, 
 'Tliat Mahomet should thus delay, 
 To tease and kiss a christian dame. 
 His bright career of war and fame ; 
 His empires dwindle, and his power 
 
108 irena's lesson. 
 
 Grows thinner-chested hour hy hour ; 
 The heinous rust of idleness 
 Is eating up his armies. Less 
 'Tis than a year, since last insteeled 
 We reaped the harvest in the field 
 Of desolation ; yet our ranks 
 Already overflow the banks 
 Of duty and obedience, and 
 Discord reigns in all the land. 
 'Twas not for this we staked our lives, 
 Abandoned home, and friends, and wives ; 
 'Twas not to fledge a flock of ills 
 We parted from our own dear hills, 
 Much les^, when she he prizes best — 
 The St. Sophia of the rest — 
 Whose needs our blood is spilled to save„ 
 Is but a false-faced christian slave.' 
 These, if thy mighty highness please, 
 Unjust complaints, and such as these, 
 At noonday, and at night, compose 
 The sole refrain their converse knows." 
 
 [ " To hint what touches me so near 
 
 I thank thee much, my dear vizier. 
 I will reflect upon thy words 
 And warning ; to appease those herds 
 Of warfare shall be all my care. 
 Now, to thy post assigned, repair. 
 
irena's lesson. 109 
 
 Till next we meet again, adieu. 
 But, meantime, I would fain review 
 My grumbling legions. Gather all 
 From near and far, from tent and hall. 
 And cot and palace. Let them meet 
 In trappings, arms, and files, complete. 
 To-morrow, when the sun shall ride 
 In splendor to meridian pride, 
 That I may hear their murmuring, 
 That they may see their injured king. 
 Good night, ^"izier, set all things right." 
 
 ■"As thou command'st, pacha. Good night." 
 
 The gates of morning are unclosed. 
 The fates, it seems, are well disposed 
 To lend fair weather, and no feud 
 Disturbs the cumbrous multitude 
 That everywhere may now l)e seen 
 Assembling on the fragrant green. 
 Beneath his Grecian mistress' powers 
 The sultan long beguiles his hours. 
 
 ^' Irena, thou art lost to-da}' 
 Within th}' maze of beauty, say. 
 Sweet seraph, canst thou tell me why 
 Thou seem'st to-day Parnassus-high 
 Above thvself? Ah! why outsoar 
 
110 irena's lesson. 
 
 All thou hast ever been before ? 
 And wherefore now enclasp thy armis 
 About my neck so kindly? Charms 
 Are discount on thy generous brow ; 
 What makes thee so celestial now ? " 
 
 " My good dear lord, I am not changedL 
 Thyself, I fear me, art estranged 
 From thy accustomed, gentle peace. 
 Oh ! that Irena could release 
 Her husband sovereign, and her own 
 Dear shield, from any pang or groan, 
 Or other faithless, cancerous guest 
 That might be lurking in his breast. 
 There hangs a cloud upon thy face ; 
 I can distinguish scarce the place, 
 So feeble are its rays divine. 
 Where kindness' orb was wont to shine. 
 There lies some secret, fathoms deep, 
 Within thy soul ; it does not sleep, 
 But flickers, like a dying lamp, 
 Through the impenetrable damp 
 Of every feature, on some flower 
 That opens in thy heart's broad l^ower. 
 It settles, like a bee, to taste 
 The juices of its stamens' waste. 
 Oh ! does it gather honey thence 
 To sweeten and to recompense 
 
irena's lesson. Ill 
 
 Its doubtful toil, or does it brew- 
 But poison from the painted dew, 
 To hoard from plants of agony 
 A hive of grief for thee and me ? 
 
 " If thou preservest in the boll 
 
 Of thy remotest thought one sole 
 
 Suspicion, undivulged to her 
 
 Who would not let her fancy stir 
 
 Her spirit, hidden from thee long, 
 
 Then, Mahomet, thou dost me wrong. 
 
 Have I denounced my people, creed, 
 
 Flung otf my nation, like a weed, 
 
 Devoted all my soul to yield 
 
 Thee pleasure, till my senses reeled, 
 
 Surveying from my gilded tent 
 
 The gulf of my abandonment ; 
 
 Have I forsaken friends, and e'en 
 
 The thick young love that grew so green 
 
 Along that prairie bosom whose 
 
 Self-offering I would not choose ; 
 
 Have I stormed kisses on thy lips. 
 
 To darken with such base eclipse 
 
 As foul betrayal, that repose 
 
 Of confidence thy bosom knows ? 
 
 If any charge thee I have been 
 
 The agent of unfaithful sin, 
 
 Oh ! give no credence to their tale 
 
112 irena's lesson. 
 
 Of slander, and tear off the veil 
 
 Of cold distrust, and stinging art, 
 
 That shuts me out from thy fond heart." 
 
 " The magnet, passion, ne'er did trace 
 With firier ardor the deep place 
 Of its affection than thy soul 
 Treml)led to its Ijorean pole. 
 Sweet woman, thou art free from taint 
 Of any art to forge complaint 
 Against thee, but — l)ut — " 
 
 " Thou delay'st 
 Along the road and idly stray'st 
 From the smooth highway thou hast sought, 
 To pull the mayweeds of thy thought. 
 This but 's a, plum beyond thy reach 
 Up in the branches of thy speech. 
 Oh, what a fiend is often shut 
 Within the glossy lair of ' but ' ! 
 But. — Fy upon thee, frosty sign ! 
 Thou never wert a friend of mine. 
 Proceed, my husband. Let me kiss 
 Thy lips, lest they should lisp amiss." 
 
 " — But this mysterious world is full 
 
 Of wondrous things. We, sometimes, ] >ull 
 
 The cloak from off' the necks of deeds 
 
irena's lesson. 113 
 
 In honest quest of motives, meads, 
 
 That bribed an action ; still we fl\il 
 
 To find the shore for which we sail ; 
 
 And often, too, we stand alone 
 
 On some high cliff, before unknown, 
 
 From which it needs that we must fall. 
 
 All sides are steep, and, which of all 
 
 Is choicest, deep and dark below, 
 
 Is more than we can ever know. 
 
 Such is the jail, predicament. 
 
 In which I find my present pent. 
 
 Two warships with consummate art 
 
 Have ranged their crossfires on my heart. 
 
 Thyself, Ireiia, most I feel ; 
 
 The other is my country's weal." 
 
 " Good Mahomet, discard those shells 
 Of crushed ideas ; in the wells 
 Of fantasy there 's many a toad 
 Unmeet to share such fair abode. 
 I would our whims and fancies, too, 
 Were even mate with what we do. 
 Half what we sow we never reap ; 
 And stale philosophy is cheap." 
 
 " Oh well ! Irena, then no more 
 
 Of this senile, reflective lore. 
 
 'Tis handsome weather. It will last, 
 
114 irena's lesson. 
 
 Methinks, till this great fete is past. 
 Now come, my tulip, we will ride 
 To yon green hill's enchanting side ; 
 For it would please me, couldst thou see 
 The myriads who are leagued with me, 
 xA.nd that those legions should behold 
 Thy beauty in its sheen and gold." 
 
 " Oh yes, kind husband, what you will." 
 And so they rode to that green hill. 
 
 " Irena, 'tis a pretty flower. 
 Just in its first unfolding hour." 
 
 " 'Tis, Mahomet, and so I gleaned 
 It from its little stalk and weaned 
 Its tiny form from shower and breeze. 
 And all its infant luxuries. 
 I'm sorry now. 'Tis sad to think 
 That this frail gem, just on the brink 
 Of all that summer joys extend, 
 Is thrust to this untimely end." 
 
 " Fair maiden, cast aside that flower. 
 
 I feel it armed with some strange power ; 
 
 It looks me in the face with eyes 
 
 Of censure that I must disguise. 
 
 'Tis well, Irena. O love, see! 
 
ikexa's lesson. 115 
 
 Far lip the azure canopy, 
 I think I see a phantom float ; 
 Now, nearer, ferther, more remote." — 
 And, fohowing with his naked sword. 
 He watched it as it surged and, soared. 
 " It circles with such magic grace, 
 Methinks an angel sweeps the place. 
 'Tis white as chill Decemher's snow. 
 Dost thou not see the vision ?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 " Look closely for 't, maiden. Meet 
 'Tis, thou scan'st it closely. See 't 
 Among those clouds. So ; fix thy gaze. " 
 His weapon glittered in the rays 
 Of noonday for a solemn pause 
 And trembling, like a silken gauze. 
 One moment, skimmed the airy flood, 
 The next one, drank Irena's blood. 
 
 Beheaded at a single blow, 
 Irena's purple life-streams flow. 
 "See," shouts the savage chieftain, "I 
 Can burst the chains of love that tie 
 My soul to beauty, when the land 
 I govern makes the sad demand." 
 
IIS irena's lesson. 
 
 The play is over. Tlie last scene 
 Is shifted on the hillside green. 
 The martial audience converse 
 Upon the actors and disperse. 
 All from the tragic field are gone 
 To quiet firesides ; — all, save one. 
 And she is resting where no sore 
 Of sorrow can disturb her more. 
 Too late she learned the bitter task 
 That all must learn, who vainly ask 
 A higher sphere and brighter gem 
 Than God himself designed for them ; 
 Who sternly frown on those young mates 
 They gayly meet at childhood's gates, 
 Who trample on those cups of snow 
 In summer days that round them hknv, 
 In wild ambition's arm to clasp 
 Some phantom far beyond their grasp. 
 
 May all my friends subdue the fire 
 Of distant and unjust desire, 
 Nor covet poor Irena's spell, 
 Or soar as high to fare as well. 
 Here is the grave the maiden fills 
 On this lone spot among the hills ; 
 Tis here she smiled a sultan's bride, 
 Tis here she closed her life of ])ride, 
 ' Tis here on the all-judging day 
 
irena's lesson. 117 
 
 The trump will peal to wake her clay. 
 Here Cyril's self might come to weep : 
 Gentle traveler, let her sleep. 
 
HORATIO'S HISTORY. 
 
 Long gazing on some purling streamlet's tide 
 Whose crisping waves two concave worlds divide, 
 How fondly do we linger in our dreams 
 To view the pearls that ripple little streams; 
 To drink the soughing gale that rocks their rest, 
 And trace our semblance in their glassy breast ; 
 To pluck the flowers along the banks that grow, 
 Or watch the waters as they stilly flow : 
 Then from our tranced enjoyment turn to trace 
 The beauties that impart a wilder grace. 
 Not unperceived, unsought, nor unsurveyed. 
 The whit'ning rapid, or the wliite cascade, 
 The stormy fall, the whirlpool's madd'ning roar, 
 The groaning clifl' or foam-enveloped shore. 
 
 And where, in mazy flights of giddy chance. 
 Tame visions flit and wilder scenes advance, 
 
HOKATIO'S HISTOKY. 110 
 
 When that still wave aclown its shelving l:)ed 
 Is lashed to foam, a smoking torrent sped : 
 We turn to view with interested gaze 
 The sterner smile of nature's rugged ways, 
 Till every look the warring powers inspire 
 Applauds the vision that we must admire ; 
 And, first denying, then complying, yields 
 The knee of liomage on those angry fields. 
 
 'Tis tlnis kind feeling l)Osoms love to trace 
 The waveless waters of their kindred race, 
 As, streaming softly from the limpid soul, 
 Unstained and still the silver currents roll ; 
 'Tis thus, amid their groves and arrased howers 
 They seek the shade and cull the wayside fl^owers ; 
 'Tis thus along the surgeless shore they stray 
 In trancjuil pleasure on their peaceful way : 
 But when those waves their latent powers unfold, 
 O'er the rough rocks of human passion rolled, 
 They madly plunge along their shrieking course 
 And, sweeping on with demon-wasting force, 
 Aftbrd the hand to paint their foam-downed hreast, 
 A bolder pencil and a deeper zest. 
 Thus, in the balmy calms of peace and home, 
 'Tis mine to bask, to idle, and to roam ; 
 Thus, on the marge of war's chaotic stream, 
 I trim my feather and select my theme. 
 
120 Horatio's history. 
 
 It is the evening hour, and nature's lyre 
 O'erdrops its plenteous notes of rythmic fire, 
 In thrilling waves from time's yEolian wings, 
 The unfenced music of creation rings, 
 And Avondering spheres, to list awhile the peal, 
 Are chained in silence on the orbs the}^ wheel. 
 
 The tumbling world, ere sleep shall seal her eye, 
 Would hymn an anthem to the throne on high, 
 'Till kindred souls responsive chime above 
 And loving strains replume the strain of love, 
 Assume her sweetest dimple and adore 
 The fire-king, drowning on her Avestern shore, 
 Would arch her brow, delay her spouse awhile 
 Reflect to heaven each golden-mantled smile. 
 Bend lowly down her green-robed spine of clay. 
 And thank her Maker for the exiled day. • 
 
 Her husband sun, immersed in vaporous night, 
 
 That gathers o'er the ocean of his light, 
 
 And, stooping where the twilight wave extends. 
 
 Below the eye, regrettingly descends. 
 
 His sapphire garbs of rich Hesperian glow 
 
 Adorn the pulsing flood of gold below 
 
 And drift majestic from the flaming west 
 
 O'er troubled homes and homes of happy rest ; 
 
 While, robed in beauty's silken silver-fold, 
 
 The Noxian queen, through eve's cold concave rolled, 
 
Horatio's history. 121 
 
 Fair, pale-faced Luna in her waning clianns, 
 Is age reclining in her infant's arms. 
 
 Now, gathering from ethereal caves on high. 
 Bright-bannered hosts are marshaled in the sky, 
 And, forming far around tlieir dark'ning arch, 
 Time their slow footfalls to creation's march ; 
 In giant evolutions swell the strain, 
 Shake the huge pier that lifts their ocean plain, 
 Wield, dangling in the skies, their glittering shields, 
 And flaunt the banners of their fenceless fields. 
 Dark, frowning night with world-l)eclouding brow 
 Stands trembling on her field of action now ; 
 Dismayed to meet the Leaven-encompassed host 
 Or charge the lightnings of their Ijurning coast, 
 Recoils before she rouse their strength divine 
 And fjuivers far adown her drooping line, [grow 
 While those great guardians bright and brighter 
 In haughty mockery of their black-browed foe. 
 
 O sacred scene of beauty and repose ! 
 Sweet as the smile of morn's unfolding rose, 
 Still as the calm o'er life's last couch of ease, 
 Soft as the perfumed sigh of summer breeze, 
 Rich as the robes celestial zephyrs wave, 
 Unbroken as the silence of the grave ; 
 All-hallowed hour of recompense and peace. 
 When strife, and toil, and self-spent sorrow, cease, 
 
122 Horatio's history. 
 
 When toil-wrung millions,with their cares o'erpressed, 
 .\nd half a wear}' world go down to rest, 
 Oh ! would that, gazing, we might fondly dwell 
 On those sweet lessons which thy beauties tell, 
 So mildly taught, so sweetly sanctified, 
 Pure as the stars that gem the silver tide, 
 Uncounted and unsinful, still and fair, 
 As slumbering angels in the bowers of air. 
 
 But darkening are the shades we symbol now 
 Along creation's meditative brow ; 
 Ill-l)oding are the types pale fancy molds, 
 And sad the scene tlie pensive eye beholds. 
 Where, stretching onward far, those jeweled skies 
 Earth's mixed affections, seem to emblemize. 
 
 Mourn, sick Columbia, mourn this tranquil eve. 
 Ah ! take of yon far or)) a lingering leave, 
 Receive thee now thy patron's parting glance, 
 Awaken, creep from out thy dreamy trance; 
 Deep be the sigh that Ijreaks thy passive rest, 
 And sad the gaze that greets thy sunset west. 
 Beyond thy native wilds, thy cultured meads. 
 Far from thy fragrant plains thy sun recedes ; 
 His eye beams dimly o'er thy peaceful towers. 
 His level rays fall faintly on thy l)Owers, 
 AVhere,o'er the darkening sward Ijcneath their shades, 
 The nurseling cypress blooms, the olive fades, 
 
Horatio's history. 123 
 
 And, mid the scenes that close his gorgeous plu}', 
 ■Conckides the drama of a happy day. 
 
 Eftulgent o'er thy convalescent woes, 
 
 Thy sun of peace in morning freshness rose ; 
 
 Resplendent o'er thy tiower be-spangled zone 
 
 That sacred globe in noonday splendor shone ; 
 
 Fondly he soared to cheer thy gladsome sight 
 
 And gorgeously pursued his happy flight : 
 
 Now, lowly perched o'er unpacific isles, 
 
 That orl) of peace in evening grandeur smiles, 
 
 And, in the red horizon of thy years, 
 
 Like a dying meteor's phantom, disap})ears. 
 
 Lament, Columbia, o'er his kind sojourn. 
 
 For dark will l)e the hours ere he again return. 
 
 Serenely mild, yon em})ress of the skies 
 
 Records the glory as it blooms and dies : 
 
 Yon modest moon with dumb, unmotioned gaze 
 
 An epicycle of thy years portrays ; 
 
 Thy planetary type her roinid has rolled, 
 
 A cyclic season of thy moon is told. 
 
 Columbia, thrice thy emblem c^ueen was young, 
 
 Thrice o'er thy rest in silver fullness hung, 
 
 And twice, when tranquil years had dried their flood. 
 
 Thy skirts were soiled in carnage and in Ijlood. 
 
 Behold now, gazing at thy sick, gray age, [sage. 
 
 Once more some blood-fraught storm our fears pre- 
 
124 Horatio's history. 
 
 Dark, fearful drifts thy firmament o'erspreacl, 
 Where late so bright thy glorious lamp was sped ; 
 A troubled night is gathering drear and deep, 
 Where vainly long thy woes will pine for sleep, 
 Where long thy palsied arm and fevered brow 
 Will mourn a wild design and broken vow, 
 Where direly bright the fires of carnage burn 
 Till o'er a tempest world the calm of peace return. 
 Ah ! like those gems that gild thy vaulted skies, 
 Star after star, thy zealous children rise, 
 Thick constellations fair o'er worlds Ijelow 
 To quench the hours that drag thy nights of woe : 
 O'er thy rent hills and desolated plains. 
 Thy fertile children will avenge thy pains, 
 Unlade their spirits on the burdened blast. 
 Till morning's dewy hour has dawned at last ; 
 Their gleaming steel on fields of death ungird 
 And wait the thunder of thy trumpet word. 
 
 But lonely, lingering groups of night shall roll, 
 Fair spheres must wander from the starry pole. 
 Bright gems grow dim and faint in night's cold crown,. 
 One after one, in silence shall go down. 
 Till, when reveille thrills the morning air, 
 Full many a star will give no answer there ; 
 Those wandering orbs that ftir have burned away, 
 Columbia's sleeping sons beneath their cloaks of clay. 
 
Horatio's history. 125 
 
 See yon green hills whose flossy capes unfold 
 
 To shade the tender flower when dews are cold ; 
 
 Just o'er their wavy, sphere-embroidered lines, 
 
 Hunil)ly in heaven a twinkling starlet shines. 
 
 Mark its sweet gaze and unassuming glance. 
 
 In lowly flight observe its pinions dance ; 
 
 How valiantly it girdles' for the fight, 
 
 How ploughs its dart the massive shield of night; 
 
 Ah, little star, be thou our theme of praise ; 
 
 How dazzling is thy unpretensive t:)laze : 
 
 Let us pursue along our battle line 
 
 Thy modest course where prouder planets shine, 
 
 Since, in thy higher flight and humbler car 
 
 AVe see in thee " Horatio's symbol star." 
 
 One kindling vernal day I strayed alone 
 Amid ten thousand feasts of nature's own. 
 Fresh rose-red prairies, woodlands mantled green, 
 And heaven's blue meads hung i' the ocean's sheen, 
 Glossed angel smiles of hope's divinest power, 
 Soft mellowed strains of rapture's highest hour, 
 The warbler's sinless song, the wave's wild chime, 
 That tripped its measure to the march of time. 
 
 The soft winds rocked in peaceful slumber sweet 
 The ocean billows at the mountain's feet, 
 Entwined their silky arms in fond embrace 
 Around the bower and kissed her snowy face, 
 
126 Horatio's histoky. 
 
 Dipped their clean fingers in tlie tressy hair 
 And flowing robes the joyous valleys wear ; 
 Now tuned their lyres in concord rich and long^ 
 To hymn for happy man a holy song 
 And lure his raptured soul from toil and care 
 In silver cliimes to their blue house of prayer, 
 Priest nature's hall of praise, creation's shrine, 
 When systems perish and when suns decline. 
 
 O'erjoyous in the gladness fortune gave 
 
 Her swelling heart around her idle grave, 
 
 A silvan wild, outstretching far in view, [of blue. 
 
 ({raced her green arch 'neath heaven's high l)ridge 
 
 In ambient folds her flowing mantles swee|» 
 
 The waveless waste of nature's skyey deep. 
 
 She wore her jo^^ous garb in winsome pride, 
 
 She trailed her flounces 'long the mountain side. 
 
 And her green crown grazed high at nature's call 
 
 The star-gemmed ceiling of her banquet hall. 
 
 There many a mighty tree its pride upheaves 
 To sway aloft its glorious crest of leaves : 
 Mark with what gracious strength and graceful ease, 
 Each flings its emerald banner to the breeze ; 
 Unvanquished chiefs of thrice a hundred years^ 
 And proof alike 'gainst winter's frozen tears 
 And summer's tide of light in air-flakes shed, 
 Unsympathetic as the shrouded dead. 
 
HOKATIO'S HISTORY. 127 
 
 As aged giants, freed from dungeons cold, 
 When tender tales of all their wrongs are told, 
 When smiles assume the throne that sorrow shared 
 And harsh success crowned all their manhood dared ; 
 When fortune smiles upon their labors done 
 And fame bestows the laurels merit won ; 
 E'en thus o'erjoyed each sky-encinctured oak 
 Mocks the alarm its billow-frowns provoke. 
 
 In frantic joy beneath the leafy shade 
 The frisk deer tries his limbs along the glade ; 
 High in the elastic boughs the squirrel springs, 
 Far on the cliff the eagle plumes his wings, 
 And genial hearts that light each other long 
 Fill up the valleys of the turtle's song. 
 Diana's form in huntress' garb arrayed 
 With headlong pace the peaceful haunts invade ; 
 Her gleaming quiver o'er shoulders flung. 
 She leads the foamy chase those wilds among. 
 List now, where far the fiery goddess roves, 
 The thund'ring grottoes and resounding groves. 
 A thousand lures within those wild wood bowers 
 Too fleetly wheel love's chariot of the hours. 
 
 Far to the orient climes of morning's gold 
 
 The rippling desert of the ocean rolled. 
 
 Proud Neptune's trident stemmed the sleeping foam, 
 
 Nereus napped within his crystal home. 
 
128 Horatio's history. 
 
 Eolus frolicked in his mountain cave, 
 
 And Plirjebus speared far down the fohage wave : 
 
 In placid respiration the cold dee}) 
 
 On her nude couch pursued a dreamless sleep, 
 
 Breathing the swell tliat twice as often rolls 
 
 As fleet earth circles round its spindle poles : 
 
 Her breath, tlie a/Aire of the skies of June; 
 
 Her blood, tlie fishes ; and lier lungs, the moon. 
 
 There many a lofty mountain finds a grave, 
 
 A thousand fathoms 'neath the zenith wave. 
 
 Bespangled there, uinuimbered l)illowy shields 
 
 Rock calmly o'er tlie sheeny waterfields ; 
 
 Unnationed there, in strange commotion whirled, 
 
 A vast creation teems a briny world. 
 
 Where, gayly garljed, the sportive dolplnns sweep 
 
 With bony plume the arching, azure deep. 
 
 And silently the toilsome coral walls 
 
 The finny millions from his lime-reared halls. 
 
 Lo ! o'er the wave yon bark that proudly bears 
 Her pennon streaming through the breathless airs 
 And brings from polar climes or torrid sands, 
 Perchance, some precious freight to ger.ial lands. 
 How richly interlace her twining shrouds 
 The mellow folds of day's rose-colorecl clouds. 
 How seraph-like her snowy pinions spread 
 To waft her swift o'er ocean's salty l)ed, 
 
Horatio's histokv. 129 
 
 How [)iire those robes the tender breezes blow 
 Unsulhed as some sea-cliff's crown of snow, 
 How stainless is tlie heart she flings to rest 
 A sinless infant on a virgin's breast. 
 
 O slumb'ring l)arge on thy unshackled wave! 
 How red the storms thy silver shrouds may brave, 
 How wild the flight thy cord-bound wings ]>ursue 
 Around the waste of ocean's trackless blue, 
 How lordly on the tide those sentries shine 
 That guard thy course along the frothy 1)rine, 
 How dread those steel-cased eyes in slumber bound, 
 Those tongues whose iron thunders peal around. 
 Should fancy trace thy still untraveled way, 
 What chequered futures might lier eye survey, 
 What rocky coasts thy oaken prow may clear, 
 What happy homes in sorrow may'st thou near, 
 What lioneyed draughts of peaceful toil resign 
 To (piafl'the reeking cup of human wine; 
 From ruljy fount of mangled hearts, distilled 
 In one dark hour of war's wild ])hrenzy, filled, 
 What gilded dreams thy oaken loins may bear, 
 Wliat pleasure nurture or what sadness share. 
 
 Oh! who that sees tliee in thy glad array 
 With smiling face along thy s})ai'kling way, 
 (Jould carve for thee from danger's rising breath 
 A self-hewn grave-bed in the pit of death? 
 
130 Horatio's history. 
 
 ^\'ho that now looks upon thy shining spars 
 Or vieAVS thy living gems and streaming bars ; 
 Who that now warmly heaves his pulsing heart, 
 Fires his proud eye to see tliee what thou art ; 
 Who that now prides him in thy slumb'ring power : 
 — Prophetic Fate ! conceal the fearful hour. 
 
 Poor, wayward thing! All dread will be the skies 
 With tiery storms that o'er thee yet shall rise, 
 No death-fraught plume of lawless hurricanes 
 E'er swept the face of India's sultry plains. 
 No red sirocco's world-deforming hands 
 E'er strewed with death Sahara's desert sands, 
 No crashing }>eal when mountain rocks are riven, 
 No thunderlx)lt e'er plowed the hills of heaven, 
 More sharp or tierce, than yet shall sweep the storm, 
 Ill-<lestined bark, around thy darkened form. 
 
 Did ne'er yon radiant orb of paradise 
 
 Invest with life the shell-l)Ound cockatrice, 
 
 Did ne'er some Hower of softest tint entoml > 
 
 The artless heart that sipped its luring ]:)loom, 
 
 Did ne'er the writhing serpent wound the breast 
 
 That wrapped it warm to si amber and to rest? 
 
 Ah, woe the hour of l:)oding solitude 
 
 Whose sun thy unhatched basilisk sliall brood ; 
 
 Woe thy false flower whose corolets unspread 
 
 To chill ten thousand hearts with death and dread ; 
 
Horatio's hihtory. 131 
 
 And woe thy asp-envenomed fang that darts 
 An icy shudder through a milHon hearts ; 
 Woe worth the hour thy j»erjurous bosom rides 
 The stormy swehs of war's purpurea! tides, 
 Stems tlie stained waves of Ne])tune's foamy plains- 
 And clots the sea with streams of human veins. 
 
 O ocean ! let us read thy trouljled flood, 
 High-ridged with type of flame and ink of blood- 
 See in perspective dire, thou faitldess barge, 
 Thy sooty heart resign its precious charge, 
 Betray thy hallowed trust for light exchange. 
 Wheel thy dull form and fix the fearful range, 
 Hurl thy red missiles to the sacred goal, 
 Rend to poor shreds thy own dark-shrouded soul. 
 Deal thy wild thunderburst of lurid flame. 
 And tell a blushing world thy deed of shame ; 
 Thy bosom fair, the flame thy power should quell,. 
 And stamp thy form a miniature of hell ; 
 With strangling gripe enclasp a maiden land. 
 And crush her life beneath thy festering hand, 
 Till, tossing high her pale, imploring arm 
 In wildered throes of anguish and alarm. 
 Offended heaven is roused in one dread hour 
 To seal the terrors of thy demon power. 
 
 Thy crimes are o'er, thy perjured toils are done. 
 Thy pride no more will hail the waking sun ; 
 
132 HOKATlo's HISTORY. 
 
 Beneath thy mangled sisters, cold on thee, 
 Thy heart will mold, thou slumberer of the sea. 
 Ah! scorpiondike, when hopeless and distressed, 
 Tlune own rash fang })rol )es deep thy poisoned l)reast, 
 Pling on a shrinking world thy scowl of ire 
 And wrap thy form in rol;es of crackling tire. 
 One lurid blaze o'ersjneads yon trembling dome, 
 And naught is seen except the plashy foam. 
 One crashing thunder shakes the troubled shore 
 And all is silent save the ocean's roar. 
 The ill-starred Merrimac at last is tame, 
 Her power, a memcry : and her pride, a name. 
 
 Wide o'er the climes of freedom's l)road domain 
 Lay the green bosom of a humble plain, 
 Extending far a happy land around 
 Where homes alike and budding tiowers abound, 
 Where nature's partial band adorns the vale, 
 Where laughing sunmier's earliest smiles prevail. 
 When spring's young beauty flecks the tender hills 
 And joyous gales evolve their gay quadrilles, 
 Where free, beneath the moon's unchiding glance, 
 (dad clioirs unseen entwine the choral dance, 
 Where kind-souled sire, Appollo, richly showers 
 His radiant smiles of gold to gaud the bowers. 
 
 The bright flowers ])lossom on a thousand hills. 
 And frill the margin of their mvriad rills 
 
H()RATI()'S HISTORY. 133 
 
 Whose wizard strains rejoice along the plain 
 
 And bear tlieir cadence to the shining main. 
 
 Lo, well concealer! beside the l)rooklet's In^east, 
 
 The tuneful robin builds her heavy nest, 
 
 While, ever and anon, her swelling heart 
 
 Lets out the joy her silvery notes impart ; 
 
 The new-born buttertiy essays its power 
 
 And gayly flutters o'er the siren flower ; 
 
 The little lambs that gambol, in their joy 
 
 A playmate find in every fustic boy. 
 
 And each in glee a thouo-htless hour beguile 
 
 Along the valley fields that round them smile. 
 
 All innocently gay, meet visions these 
 
 To throng the breast with hallowed ecstasies, 
 
 And mark each scene enraptured l)osoms view 
 
 With magic robes of kindred heavenly hue, 
 
 And from the heart in hushed and pensive hours 
 
 To mirror angels in the prairie flowers. 
 
 Oh ! where is now the queen whose crystal shields 
 Whose spotless garb o'erspread the ambient fields ? 
 Forgotten winter, in thy tombed repose. 
 How little recks for thee this bantling rose. 
 How little sighs for thee the sportive child 
 That vents his joy in shouts as glad as wild, 
 How little heeds the warbler on yon bough 
 The wakeless rest which thou art sleeping now, 
 What miss, as each his round of pleasure goes, 
 
134 HOKATIo's HISTORY. 
 
 Tlieii" listless hearts thy stainless breast of snows? 
 The rippling rivulet dancing gayly on, 
 Unmindful of his queen forever gone. 
 Poor silent winter, like the life of man, 
 Tliy reign is measured by a tiny span, 
 Ere thy swift flight begins, thou see'st the goal 
 Where, o'er thy cold and moldering ashes, roll, 
 Like the wild winds of heaven, in airy mirth 
 The mighty changes of unconscious earth ! 
 
 Now list resound at morning's golden dawn 
 The rustic carol on the dew-sweet lawn. 
 His rai)tured lieart has wandered far away 
 To watch the fluttering of the new-plumed day, 
 Communing with the lark that sings and soars 
 To herald him the hour his heart adores. 
 Imbibing in his soul the trancing strains 
 That far re-echo o'er the rural plains. 
 Ah ! vain would bloom in scenes as rich as this 
 Aladdin's storied fields of magic bliss. 
 Sweet landscape, smiling in thy beauty wild, 
 Be long the home of freedom's favored child. 
 
 See far away beneath the placid skies 
 The humble cottage of tlie freeman rise. 
 Like some lone barge far out upon the sea 
 Around whose breast the breath of heaven is free ; 
 The curling vapor of his happy home, 
 
Horatio's history. 135 
 
 Like incense, rising to bis Fatlier's dome, 
 High o'er the world to hearths of l;)righter fires, 
 In billowy folds soft-swelling, circumgyres ; 
 A symbol meet, far upward as it toils, 
 As the light heart that beats beneath its coils. 
 Round that home in halcyon rambles rove 
 The varied tenants of the field and grove. 
 There, bold retreat the timorous lovers hold 
 And adverse natures seek a common fold : 
 The timid choristers from neighboring bowers 
 Assemble there to spend their gayest hours ; 
 All cuddle there in kind communion kin 
 To bless the free born soul that lords within. 
 Blest spirit would all human kind might share 
 A home so hapj)V and a scene so fair ! 
 
 Note now for future want and household care 
 His anxious step to daily toil repair. 
 With hopeful heart at budding of the morn 
 In distant fields to grow the yellow corn 
 And pray, while delving in the fruitful sward, 
 That meet aljundance may his toil reward ; 
 Columbia's weal, his nation's sacred pride. 
 His happy children and his faithful bride, 
 The only thoughts that serve to entertain 
 The honest Vjosom of the honest swain. 
 Those steal the moments of the toilsome day, 
 These cheer his sorrow and his cares repay. 
 
136 HOKATIo's HISTORY. 
 
 See yon gay maid, yon Ijright-eyed, princely l;oy 
 
 That fill the fields with childhood's shouting joy ; 
 
 See o'er the hills his rosy offsjDring roam, 
 
 Free as the balmy gales that air their home, 
 
 While, wreathing garlands from the plain that yields 
 
 The rarest treasure of enameled fields. 
 
 They twine in love with many a filial vow 
 
 A crotv'n of roses for a mother's brow. 
 
 And seek the flowers o'er pictured vale and hill 
 
 Wliich, childhood says, their father treasures still. 
 
 Ye gaysome strollers of tlie silvery rills, 
 
 Ye jo3''ous ramblers o'er the breezy hills. 
 
 Ye lightsome roamers of the laughing lawn. 
 
 Ye gentle playmates of the infl\nt fawn ! 
 
 Oh, would my soul were now to childhood fiung, 
 
 Oh, would that mortal hearts were ever young, 
 
 Or, ])etter wish and less unholy prayer. 
 
 That childhood's cloudless skies were ever fair, 
 
 That joy's young flowers miglit gild our summer's 
 
 way, 
 Till life's glad round had sped its sunny day! — 
 Ye opening blossoms of immortal bloom. 
 In your pure souls may sorrow never room ; 
 Oh, that your bliss might soar to hights serene, 
 Oh, that your fields might spread forever green, 
 Unguiled companions of the birds and flowers ! 
 But time's steam-pinioned car will l)ear ye darker 
 
 hours. 
 
Horatio's history. 137 
 
 Ye daisied meads, ye floods, and woody dells, 
 How gentle to the heart where beauty dwells, — 
 Such sweet communion do you kindly hold 
 Witliin your sumptuous halls of sheen and gold ; 
 Mild triune of creation, aptly dressed 
 In tasty raiment of your matron's best. 
 Harmonious blending each her native art 
 To swell the fullness of a sister's heart ; 
 Be long the type and haunt of gentle love, 
 The paradise on earth that angels seek above ! 
 
 How sweet to mark the kindness you portray, 
 In courtly peace and generous love to-day. 
 To each low bow of ocean's rocking tide, 
 A courtesy capers on the mountain's sida ; 
 To each glad shout that from the valley springs 
 The list'ning hill or answering woodland, rings; 
 While each coy wave that comss to kiss the shore 
 And soft gallant with her he would adore, 
 Must bear a garland from her treasures dear 
 Across the ocean as a souvenir. 
 
 Full long 1 mused in gayety serene 
 Upon the charms that graced the lovely scene. 
 Till, deeply tranced on fancy's stormy tides, 
 Adown their pearly waves my shallop glides. 
 Far, far away now speeds my raptured soul 
 Where silver wheels of vernal pleasures roll ; 
 
]o(S HOKATIO'S HISTORY. 
 
 Soft airy slumbers o'er my senses fall 
 And cover nature with their silken pall. 
 Ah, brighter fields delight my wakening eyes 
 And holier visions in tlieir riehr.ess rise. 
 
 Pure were the seraph fields whence I withdrew, 
 
 But more divine the realms that now I view : 
 
 Far brighter glows creation's l)lazing mine 
 
 O'er wilds more sylvan and o'er fields more fine, 
 
 And richer is the rainbow s])lendor seen 
 
 O'er vales more verdant aiid o'er groves more green, 
 
 O'er clearer crystals and o'er flowers more fair, 
 
 Than earth |)roduccs or its waters bear. 
 
 The radiant air was filled with fragrant balm, 
 Perfuming climes that knew no breaking calm; 
 In many a massive column piled on high 
 Tall mountains pro])ped the gold-eml)roidered sky 
 ANHiose everlasting rolx's su})erbly glow, 
 Whose diamond crowns are their eternal snow. 
 Surrounding far, where stormy silence reigns, 
 Ambrosial sweetness in Elysian plains. 
 
 From jasper founts, o'er })orphyritic sands, 
 Through meads luxurious in these haunted lands, 
 Througli gilded vales and rainljow gardens gay. 
 Soft rills are dancing in their elfin play. 
 And perfumes rise from aromatic flowers, 
 
Horatio's history. 189 
 
 Dispensing sweetness in delicious bowers, 
 M^here Alma branches in their beauty twine 
 With hvacinthine bloom and luscious vine, 
 Beneath whose shade the pheasant folds her wing 
 And paradisian warblers gayly sing. 
 
 Amid the groves where strains divinest thrill, 
 Behold Ijeyond, a sapphire-circled hill 
 Whose gorgeous Ijrow of opals richly rare 
 Reflects the soul of each l)right vision there, 
 And, peering proudly to the stormless skies, 
 Allures the ravished sight of cherub eyes ; 
 For e'en the pure of Heaven, in kind delight, 
 To dally there swift wing their joyous flight. 
 Ye angels, high in bliss eternal crowned, 
 VMiat do ye call that rich and radiant mound ? 
 Poor mortal, let me fold my clay-made arm 
 And bow my soul in adoration warm. 
 My simple l^reast with deepest reverence fill, [hill. 
 Hail,, virtue's sainted l^ower and Freedom's sacred 
 
 Congenial goddess, can our bosoms know 
 In climes so holy thy inspiring glow, 
 Or deem we, as in hopeful dreams we roam. 
 To find thee fringed in so divine a home ? 
 Art thou so near allied to blissful power 
 That gentle angels seek thy heavenly bower, 
 Wliere needy man ma}'' sell at bounteous price 
 
140 HOKATIO'S HISTORY. 
 
 The lees of life and })iircliase ]iara(lise? 
 Ah, Freedom, yes ! those magic fields are thine, 
 And sunnier ones and regions more divine, 
 Those groves are thine, and this delightful ])lain 
 That undulates across thy gemmed domain ; 
 And thine those fountains and those piles sublime 
 Tliat liound the realms of thy em})yreal elime. 
 
 consecrated queen ! Let me delay 
 Around thy balmy bowers for many a day, 
 And, near thy throne of grandeur and rich grace, 
 The landmarks of thy votive children trace. 
 Full many a faded flower and shriveled leaf 
 Remind me of some valorous victim-chief 
 Who, in cold ages of the darksome })ast. 
 His cherished blossom in thy soil would cast, 
 With deep, ensanguined hope and lioly care. 
 To see the gem take root and flourish there. 
 But, oh ! too blind to cherish such a gem, 
 Poor wayward man despoiled thy diadem 
 And gave to blighting frosts of worldly scorn 
 The only flowers that might thy brow adorn ; 
 Alas, to deeper, darker, shameless, ills consigned 
 The benefactors of his erring kind ; — 
 At last, transfixed witli venom-gilded dart. 
 The dearest treasures of a human heart ! 
 
 Such was the fiower from rugged Alpine steep 
 That made so oft thy glorious archer w^eep. 
 
Horatio's history. 141 
 
 Such was the flower from Russia's frozen flood 
 That crimsoned Poland ;vith her children's l)lood, 
 And shriveled on its stem in wintry gore 
 When Kosciusko's bosom heaved no more ; 
 And such the flow'ret dallying with the gale, 
 Sweet, though unblown, from sorrowing Inisfail, 
 Chilled by the storm that swept around the slave 
 And laid her Emmet in a martyr's grave ; — 
 So cold a meed a freezing world l:)estows 
 To struggline; Freedom in her infant throe?. 
 
 But, O high queen of realms so saintly fair. 
 What buds are those that here thy home declare ; 
 What gems are those for l)lissful souls and thee 
 That gra?3 the walks around thy Liurel tree, — 
 The only blossoms 'neath thy sheltering arms 
 That smile defiance to the blasting storms 
 And keep still gay thy basque of May-day prime, 
 Despite the icebergs on the tide of time ? 
 
 Thou holy emljlem of a happy land. 
 Long may thy bosom to the skies expand. 
 Long may thy fragrance in those bowers al^ound 
 And hope's white laurel crown this hallowed mound, 
 May no rude hand enshroud thy folds in gloom, 
 No tempest chill thy everlasting bloom : 
 Here let my raptured eye exultant rest 
 On each 3'oung gem that crowns thy golden crest ; 
 
142 Horatio's histoey. 
 
 Here let my ftmcy trace, my heart surrey 
 Tlie first-born bloom of Freedom's dawning day; 
 Sweet flowers and laurels smiling side by side, 
 Columbia's emblem, and Columbia's prid^e. 
 
 AVhen bright aurora o'er creation rose, 
 
 And Phfjebus dried the dew of human woes; 
 
 When Liberty's archangel trumpet spoke 
 
 And sleeping millions in their chains awoke, [ed 
 
 When Freedom's shout from hights Olympian peai- 
 
 And called her legions to the tented field, 
 
 'Twas then, fair forms, your snowy robes unfurled 
 
 And poured their magic on a bondaged world. 
 
 Then, like a harp's, in rich accordance strung, 
 
 A thousand strings in each warm breast were rung 
 
 Till kindled millions caught the rising tones 
 
 And turned their soul-dazed eyes on tr-embliiig 
 
 thrones ; 
 Plxultant host to greet the welcome hour 
 They might evolve their all-engulting power, 
 To vent their vengeance on the gorgon's grave 
 And hoot oppression o'er the barrier wave. [steel 
 Then swept the storm and clashed tk' avenging 
 That made red thralldom's burning blood congeal ; 
 Then rang the thunders of your Ijannered brave 
 And shook the Ijleeding realms they rang to save; 
 Then on this mound in stormy ages past 
 The tender germs of thy young flowers were cast; 
 
Horatio's history. 143 
 
 And then uprose in those tempestuous clays 
 Thy bovvers so heavenly that the angels praise. 
 
 Long have I wooed the bliss possession yields 
 To raptured hearts in those perennial fields ; 
 Nor, long delaying, reeked the wave of time 
 That swiftly swept e'en o'er this favored clime, 
 Bright years are buried since my barque was flung 
 On streams of vision when those years were young. 
 Now to your foster realms returned to dwell. 
 Green seats of Freedom, and sweet bowers, farewell. 
 Once more I view my home-born, damsel plain. 
 The court'sying forest, and the courteous main. 
 The fields are blithe as e'er they were of yore, 
 The wave as fresh as when I left its shore. 
 The gentle birds' soft songs as sweet and dear, 
 The courtly smiling heavens as kind and clear. 
 
 But where is now the calm sequestered cot 
 That once adorned this wild, this cultured, spot ? 
 Where is the manly form that cared these bowers. 
 The happy pair that plucked the rosy flowers ? 
 What means yon vine-clad home in day's repose 
 That meekly towers where once his cottage rose? 
 Lo, seated at the cheerful evening fire, 
 A pensive matron and an aged sire. 
 Full well I mark upon that hoary brow 
 Some solemn thought is seated princely now, 
 
144 HOKATIO'S HISTOKY. 
 
 While, through the bar.s of that deei>-l'uiT(>wed face, 
 
 A well known soul my recollections trace. 
 
 His is the form in faithful matin toil 
 
 That rocked the corn to sleep beneath the soil ; 
 
 His is the arm that oft the harvest stored 
 
 And thence abundance drew to grace his Ijoard, 
 
 That sought and found, through ills, and toils, and 
 
 fears, 
 A plenteous hoard for future, feel)ler years. [ed 
 
 Alas ! the years when morn's young sunl:)eams j>lay- 
 Are now long lost in life's dim sunset shade. 
 
 Mysterious time ! How wings thy tireless plume 
 Our trivial flight from childhood to the tomb 
 While l;)rittle bars of clay confine the soul, 
 Through life's short span, how swift thy seasons roll ; 
 First on the globe of life comes smiling spring 
 To make existence wake, and bloom, and sing. 
 And fans with gentle gales and vernal hours 
 As pure, and fair, and tender, as the flowers. 
 Then summer each awaking l)ud unfolds, 
 A\'ith sunny hands the trusty rudder holds, 
 AMnle, now and then, wild sweeps some sullen cloud 
 In lurid blaze and angry ragings loud, 
 But calms again, to leave the scene more gay 
 And paint a rainlxtw on tlie sheet of day. 
 Now autumn yields to zeal the cereal meads, 
 And mocks the idler with a field of weeds ; 
 
HOKATIO'S HISTORY. 145 
 
 Slow wheels across the equinoctial line, 
 That toil may long rejoice and sloth repine, 
 Turns his mild glance on life's receding shore 
 Still to retrace the hours that are no more. 
 Last in the round comes winter's chill repose, 
 When fields and flowers are cold beneath the snows, 
 When frozen skies forget their charter right 
 And pleasure's brumal sun clieats half its light, 
 Bequeathes to frosty age the warmth of lore, 
 Refines the petty crown to golden ore. 
 And points to Heaven, beyond the wintry wave, 
 Where grief can never storm the castle of the grave. 
 
 Within yon house where gentle hearts retire. 
 See lordly now Horatio's humble sire ; — 
 His spring and summer gone and autumn passed, 
 Now winter's snows are falling white and fast. 
 What though where once his little cottage wall 
 Stood on the plain, extends a wider hall? 
 Thou must not deem that aged bosom swells 
 Because its shadow moves in gaudier shells. 
 No, still the self-same, unassuming soul 
 In tender rule those airy fields control, 
 Where fancy's wiles my bosom once imbued 
 Through draughts of talismanic solitude. 
 E'en now, my weary heart that far must roam, 
 'Neath yonder roof may share a friendly home ; 
 And thitherward my journey let me bend, 
 To meet the warmth that greets an absent friend. 
 
146 Horatio's history. 
 
 The little child that once the valley strayed 
 To gather flowers, is grown a blooming maid. 
 No more the fields in girlhood's glee she roams ; 
 Her joys are now her duty's, and her home's ; 
 No more she gathers wreaths of rosy down 
 In filial love, a mother's brow to crown, 
 But kinder deeds her gentle soul engage 
 To soothe the cares and feebleness of age. 
 She balms in love a mother's each desire, 
 And comfort lends to cheer her languid sire. 
 Nor slights her heart with all its toils and cares 
 The weary one that to her home repairs. 
 But with a gracious smile she meets that guest 
 And opes her stores to yield him food and rest. 
 
 The little youth that ranil)k'd l)y her side 
 In life's green hours o'er meadows gay and wide, 
 Looms up in grace, to branching manliood grown, 
 And in far other fields liis name is known. 
 'Mong those fresh trees that crown yon sloping hill, 
 Near that soft fount which feeds yon })urling rill. 
 By yon still stream where shine his father's skies 
 In rural worlds, see lore's meek temple rise. 
 'Twas there long days Horatio passed tlie hours 
 In })ained retirement from the fields and flowers, 
 There many a dark and prol)lematic ]'age 
 Did his vexed mind in painful toil engage; 
 There many a noble task his liosom wnrmed, 
 
HOKATIO'S HISTORY. 147 
 
 There many a feat his fledging soul performed, 
 Till, crowned at last through long, laborious years, 
 He stood the pride of all his young compeers ; 
 In all he sought, among his rivals famed, 
 The first in mildness, first in love, proclaimed, 
 Till, blest by honest hope and unfeigned praise. 
 Were closed the labors of his boyhood days. 
 While virtue lent her shield her child to guard 
 And zeal's keen scythe had reaped a rich reward. 
 
 What marvel that the sire of such a son 
 Should pride him in a life so well begun. 
 Or why should he his treasured child deny 
 A wing of gold to soar a higher sky ? 
 Not such, indeed, could be that father's part ; 
 He knew a nobler soul, a kinder heart. 
 His own long years to toil obscure resigned 
 Inspired his breast to see his son refined. 
 And now far off he sends that youthful heart 
 That he ma}^ learn to play a rarer part, 
 And versed in all that art may learn here. 
 In later life to wheel a wider sphere ; 
 To give the world, perhaps, a deathless mind 
 And leave some jewel to enrich mankind. 
 
 Rejoiced, Horatio bids his home adieu 
 And curves his energies to deeds anew ; 
 He seeks the seats where lofty souls convene 
 
148 Horatio's history. 
 
 To train true troops for life's long battle scene, 
 Where earnest forms, to sleepless toil resigned, 
 . Expend their treasures to expand the mind, 
 
 And through high surnmer's heat or winter's cold, 
 
 Tlie tortuous lal)vrinth of lore unfold. 
 
 And wliere emaciation's fingers trail 
 
 Their snowy tracks o'er Ijrows no longer hale. 
 
 Full conscious of the powers he long possessed, 
 Nerved by the praise that fired his youthful zest, 
 And pledged to chase fame's flying phantom down 
 (_)r scale the rocky summit of renown, 
 Did that free mind to college halls repair 
 To breast new waves and find new harlwrs there ; 
 Nor vainly do his his eagle hopes aspire 
 And white-winged joys exalt his anxious sire. 
 
 No mother weeps for him, thougli far away 
 
 He must remain through many a lengthening day 
 
 No sister bends to dry the falling tear 
 
 That miglit bedim the hour of parting cheer ; 
 
 No friends are sad that lie must leave his home 
 
 And lonely in the stranger's circle roam. 
 
 Full well they know that crime will not degrade 
 
 The name of him on whom their hearts are laid, 
 
 But virtue, zeal, and love, will still attend 
 
 To bless a noble son and guard a friend. 
 
 While honor's generous maids their meeds allow, 
 
Horatio's history. 140 
 
 And twine the laurel wreath around his brow. 
 Succeeding years shall bring them brighter hours 
 And summer days shall deck their paths with 
 flowers, [o'er, 
 
 When that young heart, school's long-wrought lal)ors 
 Returns at last to ]iart ft'om them no more. 
 
 O glittering Hope ! thy painted scenes how sweet. 
 How fond the hearts our future hopes may greet, 
 How dear the souls in verdant circles pressed 
 Which withered age would welcome to its breast, 
 How smoothly on its course life's vessel keeps 
 When soul's wide ocean in the bosom sleej^s, 
 How fair the joys, in fimcy's furnace cast, 
 Of future years far mirrored from the past, 
 When all we loved and prayed, and all we prized. 
 In vanished days, shall yet be realized : — 
 Sweet faded flowers in nature's young repose 
 Which summer showers and sunshine may disclose. 
 But, oh, how stormed, how restless, and how deep. 
 The billowy souls of those who wildly weep. 
 When youth's rich dreams have melted in tlieir 
 
 sight 
 And life's bright morn is gloomed in tempest night, 
 When thy frail bark the eddying wave divides 
 And sinks forever in the foaming tides. 
 When fond, fond hopes have left our bosoms sore 
 And all they wished for once they know no more : — 
 
150 Horatio's history. 
 
 Sweet op'iiing flowers of nature's summer liloom 
 Which fate's inclement storms have crinkled to the 
 tomb. 
 
 Ah ! soon around this modest rural hall 
 The blighted lofty hope will darkly fall, 
 And dancing joy o'er sorrow's steep ravine 
 Step from his rock to darkness unforeseen. 
 Horatio soon shall to his home return, 
 Beseat him where the fireside eml)ers burn, 
 Shake the warm hand of him who liolds him dear 
 And softly, kindly, shed the meeting tear ; 
 But in that home his ];)Osom may not dwell 
 And he must weep tf> ])id its warmth farewell. 
 
 Hark ! whence that wild, prognastic sound 
 That deepening rolls a startled nation round? 
 Oh ! whence afar that deep, mysterious peal 
 Which makes the hearts of awe struck millions reel, 
 As if some storm howled forth its angry roar, 
 Some earthquake prowled along the ocean's shore ? 
 'Tis not the nymphs of nature's frantic arm 
 That marshal in the skies the frowning storm ; 
 'Tis not the sickening world's convulsive throe 
 That rends her bosom with the blade of woe ; 
 'Tis not red volcano's rumbling jar 
 Proclaiming havoc o'er her kingdoms far, 
 And spinning high her streams of burning gloom 
 
Horatio's history. 151 
 
 To pile a mountain on a nation's toml). 
 Oh; speak to man thou dark Atlantic wave 
 The peaceful scene thy pulseless Ijosom gave ; 
 Oh, tell his soul what flame thou hast revealed, 
 AVhat peal tliat swept far round thy foaming field, 
 What nymph of shame and grief that sadly bore 
 This blood-dyed herald to a turtle shore ! 
 
 Thou plaint-tongued ocean in thy l)riny breast 
 How many gentle forms are low at rest : — 
 Oh, name the myriads in thy spheral shrine, 
 On whose cold brows no moonbeams ever shine : — 
 How often plunged thy lurid tempest wild [ed ; 
 O'er liarmless scenes where heaven had kindly smil- 
 How often heaped thy angry furies dark 
 A maniac mountain o'er the maiden bark. 
 Why paled thy brow and reeled thy aching head 
 At war's hoarse thunders and her light'nings dread ? 
 Where slept thy tides when fiamed th}^ fier}- breath 
 That hurled a nation to the gulf of death ? 
 Account, cold ocean, for her reeking graves 
 That yawn unnumbered as the surging waves, [er, 
 O shrieking sphere, where slept thy treacherous pow- 
 When millions shrieked in terror's fearful hour ? 
 Where bore thy winds the world's wild, wintry wail 
 When nature trembled and the stars grew pale ? 
 
 Oh ! wherefore glow from hearts we treasured most 
 Yon iitful flame on Carolina's coast, 
 
lo2 HOJtATIcys HISTORY. 
 
 Thos3 booming sounds that esho far and wide, 
 Like peals of thunder when the skies divide, 
 That bathes a nation's throbliing breast in tears 
 And darkly gloom her beauteous, virgin years? 
 Lo ! the red battle-cloud that wildly falls 
 Around the pile of freedom's crumbling walls. 
 See yon wild Ijurst, yon drift of burning hail 
 That melts the rocks round Siunter's patriot pale, 
 Oh ! list that hollow wailing, sad and lone, 
 'Tis Freedom's sigh, a soldier's dying groan. 
 
 Here once l)cfore, old ocean, on tliy breast 
 The sulphurous cloud of battle lay at rest. 
 When Albion's navies l)ridged upon thy foam 
 Oppression's highway to a freeman's home. 
 When Britain's lion couched in silk and gold 
 Would tear the lambkin from his chosen fold, 
 When Freedom's kindling eye to Heaven u])raised 
 Defiant on her proud oppressor gazed, 
 Wlien, to the spheres, her starry folds unfurled, 
 A weak-limbed l)al)e defied the giant of the world. 
 And thou, wild wave, in other days hast seen 
 The ray of sunshine burst those storms between, 
 Columbia's jewel blaze, Brittania's rust, 
 A misty cipher of its putrid d\ist, [nown 
 
 When Heaven's high hand disclaimed her ill-re- 
 And tore the precious gem from England's haughty 
 crown. 
 
Horatio's history. ' 153 
 
 Then soared the eagle to the solar sun 
 And screamed hosannas for a nation won ; 
 The stars and stripes, like rainbows in the sky, 
 Brought welcome smiles to man}^ a troubled eye 
 . And promise gave to Freedom, bleeding sore, 
 That battle storms might gather there no more. 
 
 Alas, paled ocean, that a valiant band. 
 
 With dark design and suicidal hand, 
 
 The poisoned dart to liberty should guide, 
 
 E'en on that wave where foiled oppression sighed, 
 
 Where once proud Albion's standard fell 
 
 As fell her tears to bid thy shore farewell ; 
 
 Where Freedom reared a rude palmetto pile, 
 
 And valor fought on yonder sandy isle ; 
 
 Where Jaspar's valiant form once bared his brand 
 
 And stood the flag-staff of his chosen land. 
 
 Columbia hears along thy surfy shore 
 The busy guns of burning Sumter roar ; 
 Her faithful few are toiling nobly there, 
 Her banner torn still writhing on the air ; 
 Like some lone beacon when wdld winds unite 
 That gilds the storm with unextinguished light. 
 Forewarning treason with her flaming locks 
 To shun the breakers of Rebellion's rocks. 
 Must Anderson's brave men submit or die ? 
 She hears from sea to sea their feeble cry. 
 
154 Horatio's history. 
 
 Then fires her breast that vahant few to aid 
 And- glorify the truth her sons displayed ; 
 Her mantling millions loud she calls to raise 
 The weeping emblem of her glorious days ; 
 And through the clouds around this isle of Mars, 
 Her wounded eagle, and her darkened stars. 
 From all the climes that belt her broad domain, 
 Her children meet with many a martial strain ; 
 They shade the walls of all her warlike piles, 
 And every vale is ridged with human files ; 
 Her marshaled legions 'neath a midnight sky 
 Unnumbered as the stars that shine on high. 
 
 With patriotic eye Horatio sees 
 
 His country's flag unfolded to the breeze ; 
 
 He hears with ravished ear and kindling soul 
 
 The martial music of Columbia roll ; 
 
 He feels within his heart's remotest urn 
 
 The embryotic sparks of manhood burn. 
 
 Till all that heart is wrapped in one wild flame 
 
 Fed by the cobwebs of his nation's shame. 
 
 His bark bears down upon his country's foe 
 
 And life's best pleasures on the billows go. 
 
 No more, the schoolboy task shall tease his brain, 
 
 No more, success reward the scholar's pain. 
 
 No more, shall cold and toil, perplexing, gloom 
 
 The lonely student in his midnight room ; — 
 
 He loved the pages of enchanting lore. 
 
 But he loves glory and his country more. 
 
Horatio's history. 155 
 
 Farewell, sweet scenes of innocence and cheer, 
 
 Farewell, thou haunts that shall be ever dear. 
 
 Now welcome Ije the soldier's stormy toil 
 
 And purple fields far from his native soil. 
 
 But, ere he cut the ties so long he knew. 
 
 Let him return to bid his home adieu. 
 
 Fain would his filial soul a balm impart 
 
 To soothe the sorrows of a father's heart, 
 
 And cheer the mother that so long will tell 
 
 A tender tale of him she loved so well ; 
 
 And fain would he upon a sister's forehead wreathe 
 
 The garland flowers affection's lips bequeath. 
 
 Ah ! now what once familiar tones he hears 
 Around the home where bloomed his early years ; 
 What spells enchant his boyhood's blest retreat. 
 What visions now his dewy eyelids greet. 
 There stands in happy pride the virgin groves 
 Where sought he oft the wild game's sheltered coves ; 
 There leaps the wave wdiere oft his birchen bark 
 Toyed w4th the weaves till day's bright hours grew 
 
 dark ; 
 There stands his father's dwelling in the glade 
 WTiere oft in romping glee Horatio strayed, 
 And where, among its warblers and its flowers. 
 He past the brightest of life's sweetest hours. 
 The fertile fields are green with growing grain, 
 The joyous herds are grazing on the plain : 
 
156 Horatio's history. 
 
 Once more the fields hold fragrant jubilee, 
 Once more the songster seeks her chosen tree ; 
 Harmonic groves that ring ten-thousand lays 
 Recall the raptures of his by-gone days 
 And fill his breast where clashing feelings foam 
 With all the magic of a childhood home. 
 
 Untraveled wanderer on the waste of life, 
 
 Advent'rous mariner on the gulf of strife, 
 
 Now let thy melting soul rejoice to share 
 
 The sumptuous banquet nature spreads thee there. 
 
 Once more, young soul, a sunny garland glean 
 
 From those pure flowers that glitter on the green ; 
 
 They still remind thee of thy April pride 
 
 When, fair as they, thou blossomed'st at their side.. 
 
 Then let thy hearts rejoice thy friends to greet 
 
 And pass the last sad hours in consolation sweet. 
 
 One nervous sun will quickly speed awa}' , 
 Then shines the lamp that lights thy parting da3^ 
 Oh, how mayst thou improve each flying hour, 
 ;■ Or q\iell the sighs that rise beyond thy power ; 
 And how mayst thou each little look regard 
 That gloomed affection would to thee award ? 
 In overladen mood thy joyless sire 
 Prepares for thee what thou mayst soon require^ 
 With all a father's love, a father's care, 
 To meet the wants an absent eon may share. 
 
Horatio's history. 157 
 
 His aged heart divines the wave of strife 
 
 That breaks around a soldier's rocky Hfe, 
 
 With naught to bony him on that wave of dread, 
 
 But shipwrecked thousands of the silent dead, 
 
 All coldly drifting to that solemn shore 
 
 From which the war-worn warrior roams no more. 
 
 Too well he knew that such may be the doom 
 
 Of him who now goes forth in manhood's bloom ; 
 
 The cloud of death may densely close around, 
 
 Life's wintry sun descend his snowy bound, 
 
 And young Horatio's multilated clay 
 
 Become the jackal's feast or vulture's prey. 
 
 Ah ! hoped he thus, when in his better days 
 
 He fondly traced his infant's little ways? 
 
 Or, hoped he thus, as his loquacious son 
 
 Would climb his knee when honest toil was done, 
 
 With childish grace the simple legend tell 
 
 And from his weary heart fanged grief dispel^ 
 
 Ah ! hoped he thus, when first Horatio's name 
 
 Was scrolled upo]i the page of school boy fame ? 
 
 Dreamed he that thus care's gathering clouds should 
 
 dim 
 The sun-encircled hope that shone on him? 
 Dreamed he that thus, as years enhanced his joy, 
 To part all sadly with his only boy ? 
 Oh, why, dear dreams of parent life, disclose 
 Some hidden thorn l)eneath the feirest rose ? 
 
158 Horatio's history. 
 
 Sharper than thistle the atiection liere, 
 
 And more than rose, the hope he cherished dear. 
 
 Be stilled, ye tempests of a troubled heart ; 
 
 Let milder showers their plenitude impart. 
 
 Goes not his son his nation's flag to bear 
 
 And reap the laurels that the valiant wear? 
 
 Is not Columbia's honor requiem-clad 
 
 The badge of suffering on her bosom sad.; 
 
 And wears she not in pensive sorrow now 
 
 The cypress wreath around her lily brow ? 
 
 As some fair barge when angry billows toss, 
 
 And evil shapes her foamy pathway cross, 
 
 That mutely calls, wdiile wrestling with the wave, 
 
 Her wdldered crew their sinking home to save ; 
 
 So with imploring glance that breathless maid 
 
 Calls now her children in her need of aid : 
 
 Shall his free son from royal duty shrink 
 
 Upon the storm-rocked wave where she may sink ? 
 
 Go ! go, Horatio, to the field of death, 
 
 And shield that maiden to thy dying breath ; 
 
 Arouse thy pride when valiant hearts are cliill 
 
 To fill a warrior's grave on some new Bunker Hill? 
 
 " Long, long, my heart shall ill be reconciled : 
 But go, my son, Columbia needs her child. 
 And oh ! my boy, did not stern sheriff age 
 So closely chain me in this earthly cage, 
 
HOilATIo's HISTORY. 159 
 
 Oh ! were it not that time's red hand hath pressed 
 
 The chihy steel so deep within this breast, 
 
 To serve thy sutfering land, a mourner grown, 
 
 Far from thy home thou shouldst not roam alone, 
 
 Thy feeble sire, to patriot manhood true, 
 
 AVould take with thee of his loved home adieu ; 
 
 Thy father, too, would seek her stormy field. 
 
 Till life's last pulse should heave, his land to shield. 
 
 That father's heart, in duty's spite, shall grieve ; 
 
 But seize thy sword, my noble boy ; receive 
 
 A father's blessing and a father's love, 
 
 And guide thy heart Who guides the stars above." 
 
 See now ; his mother's tear-beclouded gaz3 
 
 Is turned to flow o'er thoughts of happier days. 
 
 Before the face of memory's wizard glass 
 
 The vivid forms of old divinely pass. 
 
 Each litile scene that marked his childliood years 
 
 And bloomed in youth's enchantment reappears ; 
 
 And, as each form attests the mirror's truth. 
 
 Her tender eye she turns upon her youth, 
 
 In all a woman's sorrow undisguised 
 
 While doting on the child she fondly prized ; 
 
 With whom she fears too soon she must declare 
 
 The parting word that rings forever there. 
 
 Rich were those jewels in their bantling home 
 Who swayed the thousands of immortal Rome, 
 
160 Horatio's history. 
 
 Who stemmed the flow of disaflection's flood 
 And sealed their fame with philanthropic blood. 
 But could they fill a mother's raptured eye 
 With loftier hope, when nol)le hope was high, 
 When all a woman's warmest love was fired 
 Than that bright bloom Horatio's smile inspired ? 
 Ah ! never did Cornelia's breast of old 
 With purer pride her ornaments unfold, 
 Than lightened thy exulkmt heart to show 
 Thine own dear pearl in youth's chameleon glow; 
 And never lived a more respectful son 
 Than that fond cliild whose childhood days are done. 
 The eye that swells in tearful tenderness 
 Shall long a mother's lonely love express, 
 And long shall grief her heart's full fountains move, 
 Though friends forbid and duty's self reprove. 
 
 Like some soft lute that sheds a cheering sound 
 To joyless hearts and cheerlessness around, 
 Or when the shroud of nature hides the l)loom 
 And maids of summer in a coral tomb. 
 Like some sweet bird whose solitary voice 
 Makes frost-brown hills and wintry woods rejoice ; 
 In soothing strain and sorrow-healing word, 
 A sister's gentle voice is lowly heard, 
 Imparting to the sickly soul of grief 
 Elixir draughts of comfort and relief. 
 
HOKATIO'S HISTORY. 161 
 
 Corolla's docile heart has learnd to know 
 Each little art that soothes her parents' woe ; 
 She calms their sighs, forgetting all her own, 
 And paints anew bright stars of pleasure flown, 
 AVhile tender words the nymphs of grief decoy 
 And cancel sorrow from the page of joy. 
 The cheerful gaze her modest brow assumes 
 With radiant light each shaded heart illumes ; 
 The joyful beams of ftiir Corolla's face 
 Fill that dark home with loveliness and grace. 
 And sorrow's shades with smiling scenes adorn, 
 E'en as Apollo paints the rising mists of morn. 
 
 A soothing paraclete, and tender guest. 
 Whose sacred presence makes e'en sorrow Idlest, 
 And downs the flinty couch which anguish spreads 
 For aching hearts and grief-unsheltered heads. 
 See mild contentment smiling on each brow 
 That kind forgetfulness leaves tranquil now. 
 How still she sips the poison from the cup 
 That discontentment's cheerless child would sup, 
 Converts the venomed gall to nectar sweet, 
 Or plucks the thistle from his wounded feet. 
 Perfumes the scentless bowers with fragrant balm, 
 Subdues his darkened storm to sunny calm ; 
 From sorrow's drossy ore and rugged folds 
 Joy's beauteous gems of shining metal molds, 
 See even here she crowns the painful scene 
 With richest robes of hope's divinest green. 
 
1G2 Horatio's history. 
 
 No inore shall cold-eyed grief the soul subdue^ 
 Or mute dejection cloud this fireside few ; 
 Meek resignation lights her star to guide 
 Life's vessel o'er affection's wintry tide 
 Details an angel on the rocking mast, 
 Till those dark swells and wilder waves be passed. 
 In festive hours this lingering day shall close, 
 And sweet contentment breathes a sweet repose, 
 For one brief hour spurn sorrow's tyrant sway ; 
 A kinder scepter rules this hearthstone gay. 
 To cheer Horatio's heart and glad his sight, 
 Let sympathizing friends convene to-night. 
 Spread wide the board, the plenteous feast prepare 
 The last beneath this roof that he may ever share. 
 
 His early comrades sitting by his side 
 Around him now are come from far and wide. 
 And all are kind, in social joy discreet ; 
 For it is dear when you.ng companions meet. 
 But there is one among that gathering throng 
 Whom his flowered heart has known and cherished 
 
 long. 
 Oitside his father's walls and gardens green, 
 A dearer form his eyes have never seen ; 
 Except three friends, our first, — perhaps, the best, — 
 No heart so kind e'er warmed his youthful breast. 
 To tell her humble worth suffice alone, 
 Horatio's impress was his Clara's own 
 
Horatio's history. 163 
 
 She shone an angel on his tender mind, 
 In love's blue sky first star of womankind. 
 
 Ye hurrying hours that drive so fleetly by, 
 Rein your swift coursers in the starry sky ; 
 Let those warm hearts their merriment prolong 
 And sweet their joy with innocence and song. 
 Ye happy comrades of the summer bowers, 
 Long-loved associates of remembered hours ; 
 Ye who together roamed when life was young, 
 AVho joyed together, and together sung, 
 Come kneel ye now together, ere we part. 
 Perhaps forever, from Horatio's heart. 
 "0 Thou who light'st the sun and bidcl'st the stars 
 To bind their steeds and wheel their gilded cars, 
 Who look'st upon this sad assemblage here 
 And know'st the fate of him they come to cheer, 
 A brother, friend, a son, oh ! bless, we pray. 
 And shield poor C^lara's all in battle's lurid day." 
 
 Ye have been dear to them, ye sister band. 
 
 Dissolving night, extend thy parting hand. 
 
 So soon to lose thee makes our bosoms sad ; 
 
 We joyed so sweetly, and we sung so glad. 
 
 If ever more thy round be dear as this. 
 
 Oh ! what rapt soul may paint their meeting bliss ? 
 
 And thou, young friend, before they part thee now. 
 
 Let solace kind uncloud thy shaded brow. 
 
164 Horatio's history. 
 
 Thou art not grieved for dangers thou shalt see, 
 But thou art pained that they are sad for thee. 
 While yet they owned thee was thy worth unknown, 
 Unprized the heart that nature makes her own ; 
 In all their rounds they met thy gentle mind, 
 Pure and sincere as thou wert ever kind. 
 
 Afflicted friends, your bosoms overflow. 
 The dernier hour has come, and thou must go. 
 A sister's dewey eyes their smiles betray, 
 And Clara's lips their last sweet homage pay ; 
 A father's trembling accents bless him brief ; 
 A mother weeps in undissembled grief. 
 Now roll the wheels and rings the warning Ijell, — 
 "Oh, fare thee well, Horatio, fare thee well ! " 
 Each melting heart swims down the deluged cheek, 
 And snowy kerchiefs wave the words they cannot 
 speak. 
 
 Ah, verdant warrior, now art thou alone, 
 
 On war's wild field and stormed arena thrown ; 
 
 Thy friends, with downca^t look and measured pace, 
 
 To their still homes the flower-frilled pathways trace. 
 
 Now slender grief and graceful memory see 
 
 Together come, for both are courting thee. 
 
 Like two kind queens that rule a lover's heart. 
 
 Each in thy bosom plays a magic part : 
 
 First in thy breast, when grief's wet rain))ows fade, 
 
Horatio's history. 165 
 
 Dame memory woos in robes of other shade ; 
 Now 'neath her folds thy sunny heart is dim, 
 And thus her plaintive strains we hear thee hymn. 
 Within thy lonely bosom deeply swell 
 Reflection's keys and wail a sad farewell. 
 
 " Farewell, fond Clara, for a lingering while ; 
 
 Oh, long, long, will I miss thy modest smile ! 
 
 Thy gentle face to me was ever bright. 
 
 As yon grown moon in solitudes of night. 
 
 Farewell, dear Clara, more than bosom friend, 
 
 Twin sharer thou of all my life could lend. 
 
 Clean as the fragrant wreath we twined so oft. 
 
 Light as the little birds that sang aloft, 
 
 And mild as fondling zephyrs o'er my breast, [ed. 
 
 Was thy new heart when our young souls were bless- 
 
 Farewell, my father, oh, this hour is cold ! 
 
 Perhaps no more may I thy face behold ; 
 
 The silver snows of age, and thought, and care. 
 
 Are drifting deep above thy raven hair. 
 
 Oh ! if 1 might reward as fits a son 
 
 The thousand things which thou for me hast done : 
 
 This sad occasion will I long deplore, — 
 
 Good bye, my father, till I come once more. 
 
 Farewell, my mother : this numb heart is sore 
 
 To leave thee lonely at thy cottage door. 
 
 When all the world at times was deluged dark, 
 
 In thee 1 ever found a saving ark. 
 
166 HOKATIO'S HISTORY. 
 
 Poor tender heart ! may Heaven he mild to thee 
 As thou, mild sonl, wert kind and fond to me. 
 
 " Farewell, dear comrades of my early years, 
 My childhood pleasures, and my childhood tears. 
 Farewell, soft meads ; fiirewell, ye gentle rills ; 
 Farewell, ye downy vales and sammer hills ; 
 Farewell, ye groves whose woody chancels rang 
 The mimic chorus of the songs I sang ; 
 Farewell, secluded seat in love's green shade, 
 Where many an hour I wooed the haughty maid ; 
 Farewell, high peak, thy wood-land surging side 
 Where climbed so oft my thoughtless boyhood pride ; 
 Farewell, ye little flowers that blushed so meet 
 And smiled with kindness when I called you sweet ; 
 Farew^ell, slow-breathing ocean, nevermore 
 May I glean garlands from thy Eden shore ; 
 Farewell, ye little lutes of joy and love 
 That taught me how to praise the One above : 
 If once again I come to your green Ijowers [ers ; 
 And you are gone, your graves shall share my flow- 
 If never more your silken aisles I see, [to me ! " 
 
 Oh, may I chant in Heav'n the hymns you taught 
 
 But see, Horatio, thou art distant now 
 From that loved shore where ocean leaned his brow. 
 Far sing the groves and laugh the merry streams 
 That still thy spirit hears in happy dreams. 
 
Horatio's history. 167 
 
 Lo, deep in yon receding hills enshrined, 
 Is that calm home thou leavest far behind ; 
 And now, wide round as searcli thy wand'ring eyes, 
 Low groves of steel and canvas cities rise, 
 Where, armored bright in duty's blazoned steel, 
 Our Ijannered fields in human masses wheel, 
 Where, earth thy couch, andheav'n thy glassy dome. 
 Has nature made for thee a martial home, [heave. 
 Here, mingling with the crowds that round thee 
 A soldier's frugal stores shalt thou receive, 
 A soldier's tinsel garb thy limbs shall wear. 
 And thy soft soul a soldier's sorrow share ; 
 Th}^ breast must brave the dark, explosive dust 
 And cold blue liail of battle's fearful gust. 
 While thou must meet, like ocean's fearless rock, 
 Tiie sweeping tempest and the sullen shock. 
 
 But, 'mid the lurid lamps that direly light 
 Bellona's darkened day and wildered night, 
 'Mid tnose wild flocks in robes of gore and gray 
 That bathe their plumes in danger's angry spray, 
 Thy tender heart, still ruled by gentler powers, 
 Turns oft to softer scenes of other hours. 
 E'en now thy soul's kind eye is set in rest 
 On some sweet form that tunes thy thoughtful breast. 
 And, calm reposed 'neatli yon wide sycamore. 
 Thus flow the strains thy chorded heart-strings pour. 
 
168 hokatio's history. 
 
 My Favorite Flower. 
 
 Blooms the rose upon the mountain, 
 
 Smiles tlie daisy on the lea, 
 Pearls refine the crystal fountain, 
 
 And the coral gems the sea: 
 Ah ! I know a richer coral 
 
 Than the ocean billows bear, 
 And a bloom of summer roral 
 
 That no bower may ever wear. 
 
 Not of gold, or diamond splendor 
 
 Is the prize of which I sing, 
 Nor tl)e jewels rich and tender 
 
 In the casket of the spring : 
 Nature's flowers, by Nature given, 
 
 Nature's fields and valleys cheer, 
 But a rose that mirrors Heaven 
 
 Is the blossom I revere. 
 
 Earthen roses, sun- ward smiling. 
 
 Shed their fragrance round the lea ; 
 Toil's sweet-weary hours beguiling, 
 
 Shower their nectar round the bee; 
 Fairer than the flower-fold airy 
 
 That adorns the summer bower, 
 Or the gems that gild the prairie 
 
 Is my angel-coraled flower. 
 
Horatio's history. 169 
 
 Raiiil)0\v tints and golden pistils 
 
 Grace the flowers that grace the fields ; 
 Ocean sands and ocean crystals 
 
 Are the treasures ocean yields : 
 Lovely heart and maiden duty 
 
 Grace my inflorescent tree ; 
 Gentle soul and gentler beauty 
 
 Robe the flower that blooms for me. 
 
 Richer blossoms drooped and perished, 
 
 While I gazed upon their blooms ; 
 Like the hopes T fondest cherished 
 
 Sleep within the coldest tombs : 
 But the mystic blossom lonely 
 
 That perfumes my raptured hours, 
 Brighter blooms, and brighter only, 
 
 When I seek her humble bowers. 
 
 Oh ! that life might fill its measure 
 
 In the radiance of that flower ; 
 My blest soul would bless the treasure 
 
 In its last and lonely hour : 
 Distant lands and ocean waters 
 
 India's gold might keep from me ; 
 Adam's sons and Adam's daughters 
 
 Build a garden bower for thee. 
 
 Far from home among the stranger, 
 In the strife of human souls. 
 
170 H(JRATI0'S HISTORY. 
 
 On the steel-clad field of danger 
 
 Where the stream of slaughter rolls ; 
 
 Lone, where thousands, weary-laden, 
 Sink to everlasting rest, 
 
 Let remembrance of my maiden 
 Be the corselet on my breast. 
 
 The gnarling clouds in many a frowning form 
 Drench thy chilled breast with strife's inclement 
 
 storm, 
 While each dark mist hurls forth its sinuous fire, 
 To blare and burn, and far in tears expire. 
 Fierce o'er Manassas' field has blown the blast, 
 And rains of blood have fallen red and fast ; 
 Now o'er the field, on lonely picket post. 
 Thy vision circumscribes a silent host 
 Who with yon sorrowing sun unscathed arose, 
 But who shall never mark its evening close ; 
 And generous bosom-friends thy heart hath made 
 On life's new stage, in narrow homes are laid. 
 
 But ah ! what makes thy trembling bosom wan 
 
 For other woes than those thou look'st upon ? 
 
 Hears now thy spirit near the magnet pole 
 
 Of thy young home, the solemn church bell knoll ? 
 
 There 'mid its green and monumental piles, 
 
 A long procession treads thy churchyard aisles, 
 
Horatio's history. 171 
 
 Chime their sad epicecle, say their last prayer, 
 And to their homes with clouded hearts repair. 
 But one, alas, within the silent ground, 
 Now calmly waits the angel's trumpet sound. 
 Yon carrier brings to thee a death-fringed seal ; 
 Oh ! nerve thy soul for truths it may reveal. 
 Bend low thy form beneath thy forage fire. 
 For thou must wail the burial of thy sire; — 
 Tliat anxious heart which warms for thee no more 
 In grief, soul-ljorn, Homtio must deplore. 
 
 Lament. 
 
 Have they laid thae, my father, all lonely and low. 
 
 In the cold narrow cell of a clay-circled shrine 
 Where the yellows-plumed beams of the sun never 
 glow 
 
 And the soft lily niys of the stars never shine ? 
 Art thou sleeping, m}' father, as chill as the clay 
 
 That builds its dark vault o'er thy silvery head ? 
 Art thou plodding tliy wearisome journey to-day 
 
 In the snow-drifted lanes of thesummerlessdead? 
 
 Oh ! I miss thee, my father, when iields are in 
 bloom, 
 
 I miss thy sweet voice when the valleys are gay ; 
 I shall miss thee when summer is laid in her tomb, 
 
 And the last tress of autumn is ruffled and gray ; 
 
172 HORATIO'.S HISTORY. 
 
 1 shall miss tliee when tempests iiiclemently l)lo\v, 
 And the spiritless pinions of winter ma\ wave ; 
 
 I shall miss thee, to gaze on the crystalline snow, 
 As it slowly descends on thy grass-covered grave. 
 
 I shall miss thee to think of the scenes I have known 
 
 In the flower-gilded honrs of my infantile years ; 
 I shall miss thee, to think when I wander alone 
 
 Of the hour that we parted in rainljowless tears ; 
 I shall miss thee to dream of the meadows and plains 
 
 Where the strength of thy manliood was wasted 
 for me ; 
 I shall miss thee to muse on the sorrows and pains 
 
 That the cares of my youth ever Ijurdened on 
 thee. 
 
 I shall miss thee when pleasure assumes her sweet 
 smile, 
 
 And the high priest of glory shall wreathe me a 
 crown ; 
 I shall miss thee when morning sings gayly awhile, 
 
 Or the stars of the midnight in silence go down ; 
 I shall miss thee when nature is screened in her veil. 
 
 Or the sun in his splendor is glowing on high ; 
 I shall miss thee when sadness is flung on the gale, 
 
 And the lone sigh of sorrow goes hodingly by. 
 
Horatio's history. 173 
 
 I sliall miss tliee when life like a dream shall ap- 
 pear, [view ; 
 
 When the phantom of time shall recede from my 
 I shall miss thee when cold I recline on my bier, 
 
 And a few cherished friends may my ashes bedew; 
 But, ah ! may I find thee where, far in the skies, 
 
 The high-heaving billows of happiness roll, 
 iVnd the bright sun of Eden shall smilingly rise 
 
 That is never to set on the dav of the soul ! 
 
 Thy father sleeps, Horatio. Not again 
 Mayst thou behold him in the haunts of men. 
 No more thy l:)reast may share his warm eml)race, 
 Thy lips may never press his pallid face. 
 His soul, released, has left its shell of clay, 
 xVnd high on golden plumes soars far away. 
 But war drives on with nmtt'rings deep and hoarse 
 Her death-shod chargers o'er her life-paved course , 
 Far round the ring treads down the helpless host, 
 And Ijinds her l)adge on death's dark winning-post. 
 Thyself hast seen her blood-bedabbled steeds 
 Stretch wide o'er icy vales and sunny meads. 
 Hast, weeping, marked, in her red chariot ride, 
 The lumb'ring wheels crush thousands at thy side, 
 Till battle fields are now familiar grown 
 As those fresh hills where life's first sunbeams shone. 
 
174 HOKATI )"s HISTORY. 
 
 Rejoicing on tliy eoncli with heavenward l)row, 
 On other lliemes tliy soul is musing now. [er'd 
 
 Tlion dreani'st of hojies that briglit before thee tiow- 
 E'er sorrow's cfouds on hfo's young day had lower'd ; 
 For once, in simpler age, thy sparkling eye 
 Gazed full on fame while genius drew thee nigh. 
 E'en on this eve thou steal'st some hopeful glance 
 A\'hich on thy spirit weaves an airy trance; 
 Thou still perceiv'st her, doting fond as then 
 Upon some form she fascinates of men : 
 Tliou fancy 'st hearts in life's gay-verdured isles, 
 E'en now, on whom she rays her lieavenly smiles ; 
 And til us in calm reflection flows the strain 
 That fills thy bosom with ecstatic pain. 
 
 H( )RATi(ys Phantasy. 
 Genius and her Human Bridegroom. 
 
 Kindred souls are now mnted 
 
 In an everlasting tie, 
 Holy vows of love are plighted, 
 
 Soft as summer breezes sigli, 
 Sacred hymns are sweet recited 
 
 By the paranymi)hs on high. 
 And the chandeliers are lighted 
 
 In the castles of the skv. 
 
Horatio's history. 175 
 
 They have pledged a maid in marriage 
 
 Far beyond the moon's cold line, 
 Now she leaves the gilded star edge 
 
 Of her battlements divine : 
 See her wheel her airy carriage 
 
 To a lonely human shrine 
 Wliere her flowing robes disparage 
 
 E'en the orl)s that o'er shine. 
 
 ■<) thou Heav'n-enraptured lover, 
 
 Who may know thy princely dower? 
 See celestial spirits hover 
 
 Round thy home this holy hoiu'. 
 Few her silent flight discover. 
 
 Far she leaves her ruby bower ; 
 Ah ! the spheres shall bend above her 
 
 AVhen that blossom fills its flower. 
 
 'Oh ! the boon to bless thee given 
 
 Ever more thy bosom nigh, 
 Which pure angel corals, driven 
 
 Like the snow-flakes from on liigli. 
 Till the crystal l>anks are even 
 
 More than piles a wintry sky, 
 i)r the diamond stars of Heaven, 
 
 A\"ould be far too poor to Ijuy. 
 
17G Horatio's history. 
 
 Long shall be thy fortune spoken, 
 
 Burning tongues thy praise proclaim, 
 And creation's woodland oaken 
 
 Re-illume thy fading flame ; 
 Eagle plumes bear far the token 
 
 Till the angels know thy name, 
 And the pearly panes are broken 
 
 In the glassy house of fame. 
 
 Treasure thee tlie kind caresses 
 
 Groveling man may never know, 
 Time's wild storm that sorely presses 
 
 Calm around thy breast shall blow 
 Glory's hand will l)raid thy tresses, 
 
 While, in foamings far below, 
 Through its dim and dark recesses 
 
 Shall the stream of ages flow. 
 
 Loud shall chant thy choral hym'er ; 
 
 Bright in sunbeams shalt thou lave. 
 While the paly moonbeams shimmer 
 
 Or the beacon shines to save, 
 When the spherelets glare and glimmer 
 
 On the surging ocean's wave. 
 And the stars of time grow dimmer 
 
 O'er the darkness of the grave. 
 
Horatio's }I[si\)Ry. 177 
 
 Thy trance is broken ; there is icy death 
 
 In every wave of morning's smoky breath. 
 
 The furies are abroad, and hell's profound [crown'd. 
 
 Spumes fortli its demons in their flame-wreaths 
 
 What lights the plunging fires that burn the skies 
 
 And yield mad day ere yet night's curtains rise ? 
 
 Whence speed the death-beaked lightnings on their 
 
 flight 
 Thick as the fire-fly hosts of yesterniglit? 
 Whence burst the thunders from lorn rock and tree 
 That shake the pallid hills of trembling Tennessee ? 
 
 Oh ! rouse thee, warrior, from thy grass-green bed ; 
 Its blades are few Ijeside tliy comrade dead. 
 Nerve thy awed soul to scenes of pregnant fear, 
 (iird up thy loins for life's eclipse is here. 
 Before thee winds, in mortal armor steeled, 
 A closing host across the quiv'ring field. 
 With trij^ping standards and inspiring drum. 
 In their ])roud march the hostile myriads come. 
 Now cool as rippling lake in summer sheen, 
 Now hot as liell's sulphureous magazine, 
 (bnfronting tiiousands, sworn to meet and die, 
 Melt, like the snow beneath a tropic sky. 
 Dark drift the fumes o'er heaven's ethereal Ijrow, 
 And ye clouds, where is Horatio now ? 
 Where, thou pale sun, see'st thou his spirit soar 
 In wider realms than all thy rounds explore? 
 
178 Horatio's histoky. 
 
 Where, sacred guide, liigli uptliy native dome, 
 Do thy rich torches Hght our wanderer home? 
 
 Alas ! Horatio sleeps his long last sleep, 
 And none are near beside his corse to weep. 
 Ah ! vain, far from liis rest, do loved ones yearn 
 To see their absent friend again return; 
 Ah ! within his father's cottage wall 
 Tliey wait for liim at lonely even-fall ; 
 ' In vain for him a lowly wreath they twine. 
 To deck his brow when battle days decline. 
 His brave young life was broken like a reed 
 Upon the altar of his nation's need ; 
 Like thousands of ( V)hnnbia"s children, he gave all 
 That life could promise, at his country's call : 
 From boyhood on to manhood's dawning pride 
 He lived a patriot, — and a patriot died. 
 In some bright land he wears a richer crown ; 
 Hds home is sad, his humble star is down ; 
 O'er his low grave the summer grass has grown, 
 The rains have fallen, and the winds have floAvn. 
 
ElEx^:^ IL.E1R, 
 
TO THE READEK. 
 
 Kind reader, if thy leisure yet 
 
 These pages may devour, 
 And if the humble board I set 
 
 Partake no savor sour, 
 Or, if tbis simple epaulet 
 
 Disguise no hostile giaour, 
 Then bask them in the minaret 
 
 Of favor's sunny tx)wer ; 
 And while I leave this annilet 
 
 Of words thy paltry dower, 
 Thy heart will kindly not forget 
 
 The clouds that sometimes lower 
 Nor slight, if thy chaste eyes have met, 
 
 Some solitary flower. 
 But if this lowly coronet 
 
 Should cloud thy s})irit's power, 
 Forgive the blast that dared to fret 
 
 Her blossom-mantled l)Ower 
 With song's mirth-shading silhouette 
 
 Or joy-curtailing .shower, 
 And pardon him who liolds in debt 
 
 Thy recreative houi-. 
 
EL^^A LEE. 
 
 Oh ! there are scenes in human hves 
 More sweet than draughts the insect hives, 
 More tender than tlie rose's arms 
 Around the germ its bosom warms, 
 More pure than stars of summer night 
 Where seas are cahn and stars are bright, 
 More painted than the beauteous form 
 The rainbow gives the dying storm. 
 And dearer than the clayey nests 
 The mourners build above our breasts. 
 
 Oh ! there are hours in lives of men 
 We would give worlds to live again ; 
 Hours from whose seeming atom-span 
 Is fountained all that flow^s in man ; 
 
182 ELVA LEE. 
 
 Hours, from whose young proemit- look, 
 We know the page of Age's book ; 
 Calm hours, as ripe as Autumn noon, 
 Unshorn as evening's eastern moon, 
 Light as the ark that rode the waves 
 Whose bosoms swelled with sinner's graves, 
 And marked, as marks the nuising eye 
 The planet wanderer of tlie sky. 
 
 Those hours, alas! are quickly fled. 
 We leave them as we leave our dead ; 
 The cold remains of their green prime 
 But driftwood on the floods of time. 
 Where oft we sail in memory's boat 
 To see the wrecks that round us float. 
 No more shall bloom the fragile flowers 
 Of rosy childhood's vanished hours. 
 
 Their broad sun once above us shone, 
 Its light unseen, its love unknown ; 
 And once their winds around us grew ; 
 Still all unfelt the breezes blew. 
 Our life's embattled banner furled 
 On youth's green flagstaff of the world. 
 Ungarbed in care, unfledged in vice, 
 We heeded not our paradise ; 
 While plenty in the garden smiled, 
 We plucked the fruit of Eden's child. 
 
ELVA LEE. 183 
 
 And midnight grief and noonday sweat 
 Must be our meed through ages yet. 
 
 T]:iere are soft words wo have expressed, 
 As downy as the turtle's breast, 
 As mellow as the chorded strings 
 That give their sighs to zephyr's wings, 
 As constant as the hollow note 
 That fills the ocean's plaintive throat, 
 And stainless as the snowy flag 
 That leans on Andes' bleakest crag. 
 
 Tl>ere are harsh words our lips have said, 
 That crowned with thorns some aching head, 
 That bent the bow and fixed the dart 
 Of anguish deep in some fond lieart, 
 That, like the clouds in nature's frown, 
 Have shot their bolts of sulphur down, 
 And, like the soldier's silvery sword. 
 Hang o'er some life-suspending cord 
 In dread address, aside to cast 
 The slender tie that makes it fast. 
 And send to seething gulfs below 
 Some falling heart as pure as snow. 
 
 There are white thoughts within our breasts 
 As continent as angel guests, 
 As happy and from danger free, 
 
184 ELVA I.EE. 
 
 As coral homey Ijeiieatli the sea, 
 
 As high in lieaveii and wide in power 
 
 As Asia's ice-crowned mountains tower, 
 
 And radiant as the solar rays 
 
 Of vernal noons and summer days. 
 
 Some thoughts there are our bosoms bear, 
 Dark as the robes the tempests wear, 
 As hot as throb earth's pulsing veins 
 With poisoned gust of desert plains, 
 And strange as sleeping midnight lowers 
 With phantom shades and meteor showers, 
 Black as the smoke tiiat yet shall spire 
 From dying nature's final fire. 
 And cold as was the people's doom 
 That laid them in their lava tomb, 
 When o'er Pompeii's templed woods, 
 Vesuvius rolled her reinless floods. 
 
 And there are names our hearts liave known. 
 
 As crystal as the polar zone, 
 
 Engraved in undecaying scrolls 
 
 Upon the tablets of our souls. 
 
 And hued, like clouds, the rainbow o'er. 
 
 Above a world they shade no more ; 
 
 Like echoes o'er the waters wide 
 
 That linger long wlien they have died, 
 
 As gentle as the rustling wing 
 
p:lva Lp]E. 185 
 
 Tliat swims the air to soar and sing, 
 As beauteous as the fruits and flowers 
 Of spicy lands and sunny hours, 
 And brighter than the diamond shines 
 In golden India's distant mines : — 
 Unmentioned names, lest we might lure 
 8ome sin-l;)lot round their bosoms pure, 
 And harshly grate the silent ear 
 Attuned to sounds of sweeter cheer. 
 Or clip the hours they calmly rest 
 In matron earth's unfolding breast : — 
 Some holy name a mother gave, 
 Seen on the stone that marks a grave, 
 And, like the Pleiad, lost in Heaven, 
 Leaves now but six where clustered seven. 
 
 There are some hearts our childhood knew. 
 As chaste as eve's descending dew. 
 Whose by-gone tones as deeply swell 
 As tolls the churchyard's chiming l)ell, 
 As welcome to life's sunless vales 
 As flowery notes of nightingales ; 
 More brilliant to the spirit's eye 
 Than all the orbs that people sky. 
 And richer than the pearly pave 
 Of buried gems in ocean's wave. 
 Yea, there are hearts around us now, 
 Ethereal as Heaven's blue brow. 
 
186 ELVA LEE. 
 
 And, could we but a moment gaze 
 
 Into their bosoms' starry maze, 
 
 what a universe would shine 
 
 Along the soul-spread azure line! 
 
 Kind hearts through whose deep channels flow 
 
 Some limpid streams we never know, 
 
 Dear hearts whom blood-hound fortunes bayed 
 
 From pleasure's bower to sorrow's shade, 
 
 To whom, although \\ith many a tear 
 
 They call on us, we give no clieer : 
 
 On wliom we turn that look of love 
 
 The carrion bird bestows the dove, 
 
 And cold by whom we heedless fly 
 
 As wintry winds the mvrtles bv. 
 
 Ah ! were we forced by some high powers 
 To meet their fate and leave them ours, 
 Not thus their breasts would listless heed 
 Our withered hopes and weeping need, 
 And we should learn in our distress 
 The blessedness of those who bless. 
 Then could we see what kindness lends 
 Of sacred joy to cheerless friends, 
 How saintly falls her silken wing. 
 All gently as the rains of spring, 
 And softly as the ivy crawls 
 O'er fallen towers and In-oken walls. 
 
ELY A l.KE. l.Si 
 
 To sliiniiig hearts that roiiiKl us grow, 
 We never pay the debt we owe : 
 Their just reward and honest praise 
 Are told by those of other days. 
 While merit stands within our grasp, 
 Our slothful arms are slow to clasp. 
 And in the spire of selfish ease, 
 The sickly nym])h of pride to please, 
 We stretch our lazy limbs along 
 The idle couch of wonted wrong, 
 Till winter tombs tlie diamond Inid 
 That danced adown an angel's blood, 
 Till haunted by life's empty glass 
 And specter shades of hours that pass. 
 We wake from stu})Oi', crazed and wan, 
 To weep o'er forms foi-evcr gone. 
 
 More deep than e'er dull soul surmised 
 Is grief of worth unrecognized, 
 And when compassion comes too late 
 How can w^e be compassionate ? 
 Like tender seeds in autumn sown. 
 E'er yet the flow'ret is outblown, 
 The boreal winds of winter blow 
 And shroud the bud beneath the snow. 
 
 As bright a smile the morning bore 
 As ever broke on ocean's shore, 
 
18H KiAA m:k. 
 
 And gladdened Natnre never rose 
 
 With so nnieli grace from night's repose. 
 
 The flowers that wooed heneath the boughs 
 
 Had never pledged more holy vows 
 
 Nor formed their army's gilded files 
 
 In sweeter camps and richer aisles ; 
 
 Tlie breeze that came the Avaves across 
 
 Had never worn a softer gloss 
 
 And on the Y\\) of rosy bliss 
 
 Had never stam})ed a sweeter kiss. 
 
 The streamlet with more dimpled grace 
 Had ne'er adorned hei' liquid face 
 Nor in the morning's twilight dim 
 More early sang her native hynni, 
 And lingering dawn had never pressed 
 With gentler hand lier maiden breast. 
 The wood that fringed the water's side 
 Spread far o'er earth his mantles wide, 
 Aiid, through the boughy fields above, 
 Ran, silver like, such streams of love, 
 It seemed the choirs tliat gathered there 
 In rainbow garbs and golden glare. 
 Had strung their lyres on silken spray 
 To bless the birth of infant day. 
 
 The suns that rose when Phoebus set, 
 In morning's crown were shining yet; 
 
ELVA LEE. 189 
 
 The clews distilled on midnight's hill 
 111 silver pearls were falling still, 
 And elfin lips are sipping up 
 The nectar from her silver cup. 
 Hark ! what approaching step intrudes 
 On Nature's peopled solitudes? 
 What human foot doth trespass make 
 On lonely walk and silent brake ? 
 Ere spectred darkness disappear 
 AVHi y roams a guideless virgin here ? 
 
 Upon the green-marged, rippless stream, 
 
 Ere slumbering waves have dreamed their dream, 
 
 Ere yet on high the song is heard 
 
 Of rosy morning's herald bird, 
 
 Oh, why upon their banks should be 
 
 The fairy form of Elva Lee ? 
 
 Ah ! gaze, ye gems of damsel dales. 
 Of curving banks and velvet vales ; 
 Lift meekly each Circean eye 
 To see the flower you would outvie. 
 To steal new beauties from that face 
 And add fresh graces to your grace. 
 Chaste stream, lay by that passive crown 
 And deftly smooth e thy dimples down, 
 Concede to calm unwrinkled rest 
 Her image in thy placid l)reast. 
 
11>0 KLVA LKE. 
 
 Daguerreotype the \-enus Ijud, 
 And bear it far on ocean's flood. 
 Ye merry bards of summer hours, 
 I^riglit flying fields of singing flowers, 
 That thousand-hued as richlv glow 
 As your companions do below, 
 Restrain awhile your music fii-e 
 And list a more concordant lyre ; 
 The softest lute and siveetest bird 
 That ever yet your temples heard. 
 Unnumbered in your verdant eaves 
 As are your native forest leaves. 
 Ye mellow minstrels, swell the throng 
 And catch the flow of Elva's song. 
 
 Mai!mei.( )w Stkkam. 
 
 Ye sweet-scented jewels so lovely adorning 
 
 The maidenhood hours of tlie blossoming year, 
 Ere night is consigned to the grave of the morning 
 
 I know that you marvel why Elva is here. 
 Ye silver-browed ripplets. so calmly reposing 
 
 Beneath the pale robes of the moon's silent beam, 
 Your eyelids will ask, at their hour of unclosing. 
 
 Why Elva should wander l)y Marmelow stream. 
 
 Ye silken-robed giants that shnnber around me 
 
 And pillow your heads where tlie night wardens 
 rise, 
 
ELVA LEE. 191 
 
 Your bosoms will query when sunrise liath found me 
 Why Elva should sleep 'neath the shroud of the 
 skies. 
 
 Ye honey-lyred warblers of sunshine and pleasure, 
 Sleep far into noonday your bright-visioned dream, 
 
 Unwaked by the sighs that attend the sad measiu-e 
 Of Elva that wanders by Marmelow stream. 
 
 Dear mates of my youth in the years that have faded, 
 
 like spring's early flowers ere the winter be o'er ; 
 Oh [ weep not, my comrades, the heart you have shaded, 
 
 Companionless Elva that meets you no more. 
 Ah ! sad was the eve that forever we parted, 
 
 That measureless moments may never redeem, 
 Where, in your cold feeling, you left lonely-hearted 
 
 Poor Elva that wandered l)y Marmelow stream. 
 
 As wide as the wave of the high-crested ocean 
 
 Was love in the heart that was molded in mine, 
 And deep as the river the tide of devotion 
 
 Tliat Elva would roll where his billows recline. 
 Ah ! far in the west has my planet of danger 
 
 Long shed on this bosom a sun-setting gleam, 
 And night will soon close on a shelterless stranger, 
 
 Lone Elva that wandered by Marmelow stream. 
 
 Before the gently rising blast 
 
 In courtesy stoops the bending mast 
 
192 KLVA LEE. 
 
 And, like the winds that round her play. 
 In silence wends her weary way ; 
 P]qiiipped in robes as snowy bright 
 As downy plume of sea-bird white, 
 And sunny as the azure shrouds 
 Above the barges of the clouds : 
 As joyous now^ as soaring lark. 
 Rides gladly on the rocking bark, 
 The playmates of the tinny host 
 That chase her on from coast to coast, 
 The girthless steed that holds his flight 
 Through sunless day or starless night, 
 The pliant toy of every breeze. 
 The fragile bubble of the seas, 
 The water flower of lily hue 
 In ocean's wreath of billows blue. 
 
 Within her northern timbers strong 
 Is heard the din of shout and song, 
 And brightly fly their moments by 
 As sunbeams through a tropic sky; 
 For future want or unborn care 
 No anxious heart is heavy there, 
 As rich in gleesome notes and words 
 As noisy group of autumn birds ; 
 No waking fear or troubled dream 
 May roil their flow of pleasure's stream 
 (3r turn its tide to mistv falls 
 
EJ.VA LEE. 193 
 
 O'er rocky beds and broken walls. 
 Old dizzy earth her heart may roll 
 In anguish round her center pole, 
 Or weep until her valleys flow 
 With icy tears of mountain snow ; 
 No stormy mist shall ride the breeze 
 Or dim the sun to shadow these, 
 All happy on the pathless foam 
 As inmates of some island home. 
 
 Ah, pleasure ! in thy byssine bed 
 The thorns of grief are ever spread, 
 In thy wide walks of happiest bloom 
 Some blossom's breast is garbed in gloom. 
 Upon thy smoothest garden gromid 
 Some pebbly dust will still be found, 
 Within the bowers that shade thy brow 
 W^ill always droop some willow bough, 
 Along the night's superbest line 
 Some distant star will lonely shine, 
 And in the festive forest throng 
 Some bird is seen that sings no song. 
 E'en now above this blithesome group, 
 Why should the plumes of sadness stoop ? 
 When danger sleeps and all are glad, 
 Why should one soul alone be sad ? 
 To question why, his comrades come, 
 The busy tongue of mirth grows diunb. 
 
194 KLVA LEE. 
 
 And discord frets to learn the tale 
 That glooms the heart of Melvin Hale. 
 
 " 'Along happy walks and flowery wa} s 
 Did ]\Ielvin while his youthful days ; 
 With lustrous eye and sunny hrow, 
 He was not what you see him now. 
 On fragrant gales of jubilee 
 The morning brought her sweets to me ; 
 The holy light I lost so soon 
 Was haloed in the blaze of noon, 
 The sun that sought his dark repose, 
 Less mild than I at evening close, 
 The C3^gnet hours I loved too well 
 Were light as dews that round me fell, 
 The happy stars that smiled on high 
 Were not in he.irt so blithe as T, 
 The moon on mine with virgin grace 
 Looked down to meet a calmer face, 
 Pale A^enus sent her earlie.st rays 
 To welcome hynms of Melvin's praise : 
 And, when on Nature's epaulet 
 The shining strings of midnight nK4, 
 The waltzing elves, in rampant mirth 
 That frolic round our dreamy earth, 
 Kejoicing, left their moony shade 
 To lay them where my head was laid 
 And deemed themselves more truly l)lest 
 To share the couch of Melvin's rest. 
 
ELY A LEE. 195 
 
 "111 childhood vvarmth and sinless glee 
 
 I clasped the hand of Elva Lee : 
 
 We roved the fields together o'er, 
 
 Together walked the silvan shore ; 
 
 We sought the founts and loved the rills 
 
 AVhen spring's green garb was on the hills; 
 
 Our venturous feet were first to know 
 
 The fiowery cheek of summer's snow ; 
 
 When leafy clouds of woodland brown 
 
 Would shake their showers of fruitage down, 
 
 Were she and I the first to sing 
 
 Our anthems to the autumn King, 
 
 The first to find in hungry haste 
 
 The banquet served in nature's taste, 
 
 The first around the board to steal 
 
 And eat of summer's bui'ial meal ; 
 
 And, when the earth in solemn rite 
 
 Put on her garb of saintly white. 
 
 Were we the first in worship seen. 
 
 The first to kiss the crystal queen. 
 
 The first who left our footstep molds 
 
 Deep dungeoned in her stainless folds. 
 
 " Ah ! careless tracks our wanderings made 
 Across the flake-embedded glade, 
 'Neath falling mist and tropic sun 
 Your forms have melted one by one. 
 On the cold earth where once vou lav 
 
190 KIAA LKK. 
 
 No liug'ring trace is seen to-day, 
 And, like the things you slept upon. 
 Is all your fleecy beauty gone ; 
 But oh ! the footprints that remain. 
 Where grief has held her rigid reign, 
 Where sorrow ran her limping race, 
 No beam can melt or mist eflace. 
 Ah, would her vestiges to thee 
 Were frail as those, my Elya Lee, 
 When, in the cofhned long ago, 
 Our feet were sliod with flaky snow! 
 But to rememljrance still appears 
 The footmarks of our younger years. 
 While weary memory lives to stroll 
 The knee-deep snow-fleld of the soul. 
 And recollection's feet remain 
 To skate across a frozen brain. 
 
 ''When happiness was helmsman made 
 Of the gay bark in which we played. 
 Or sorrow was commissioned guide 
 On childhood's isled and shoaly tide ; 
 At night or noonday, dark or bright, 
 I wandered not from Elva's sight. 
 WheJi grief would play the sherift^'s part 
 And put his liandcufls on my heart, 
 Wa.s gentle Elva's tiny hand 
 The first to break the iron bjind, 
 
KLVA LEK. 197 
 
 The first who came with mercy's sliears 
 To clip the fringes of my tears, 
 And lay the remnants angel-blest 
 A bandage on my wounded Ijreast. 
 
 " Contentment's landmarks saw tlieir grace 
 Reflected from her tranquil face, 
 And pleasure's eagles soaring by 
 Found eyries in her happy eye. 
 
 "But time drives on through oaks and reeds 
 
 In headlong flight his tireless steeds, 
 
 AVhile every year tliat flies, reveals 
 
 A circuit of Ins chariot wheels, 
 
 And every round, with danger rife, 
 
 ( bnveys us up the hills of life ; 
 
 From knoll to knoll he brouglit me on 
 
 To this cold mound I stand upon. 
 
 Companions, do you think we erred. 
 
 That joy should learn a holy word. 
 
 Or deeper age the sleep should break 
 
 Of intimacy's tranquil lake, 
 
 That, tendril-like, our hearts should twine 
 
 Around affection's verdant vine. 
 
 And from the soil of nude regard 
 
 Should spring hope's daisy-spangled sward, 
 
 From friendship's cotyledons low 
 
 The rich white rose of love should l^low ? 
 
liKS ELVA I.EE. 
 
 " Where'er my fancies might repair 
 No bhss grew up were she not there ; 
 The deepest throng of gayest mood 
 ^\'as but a silent soHtude, 
 Unless her elfin eyes were seen 
 To beam aside the curtain screen, 
 Unless her linnet voice would swim 
 The billows of some happy hymn. 
 Though not a fiower were seen on earth. 
 Though not a bird Ijetrayed his mirth, 
 Though not a friend for dreary miles 
 AVere nigh to light me with his smiles, 
 Still when her fairy form was near 
 The world was liung with gems of cheer. 
 In those glad days I looked on man 
 As only truth and nature can ; 
 I looked on woman as the all 
 That l)less and beautify our l)all, 
 Around whose glowing central soul 
 Our dizzy hearts, like planets, roll, 
 Whose very vices seemed as fair 
 As cloudless fields of autumn air. 
 Whose smallest worth was magnified 
 A million fold the type I spied. 
 Because I saw their seedlings ope 
 Beneath the magic microscope 
 Of thee whom Heaven beatified. 
 Dear guardian angel at my side, 
 
ELVA LEE. \m 
 
 Sweet nightingale of midnight mind, 
 And peerless queen of maiden-kind. 
 
 "All ! yoii to whom fond fate bestowed 
 
 The richest pearl of man's abode, 
 
 To whom a cherub took her rise 
 
 That rivaled those of paradise, 
 
 Why could you, in a thoughtless hour, 
 
 See o'er her soul the tem| :e>t lower 
 
 That sundei'ed us so far apart 
 
 And lightninged round your Elva's heart? 
 
 You knew that she was saintly mine 
 
 By all that love could make divine, 
 
 And by the polu' needle-di]) 
 
 Of infancy's companionship ; 
 
 We asked you, prostrate at your feet, 
 
 'J'o make our Eden world complete 
 
 And diadem our queen of bliss 
 
 A\^ith crown of ]^arents' sanctioning kiss. 
 
 "Alas ! that our entreating tears 
 Were doomed to tall on icy ears. 
 You saw and prized another more 
 Than all the truth that Melvin bore, 
 AMiile day and night you vainly pressed 
 Your child to bless a stranger's breast ; 
 Though still you knew the bosom chords 
 Kind Providence that pearl affords 
 
200 ELVA LEE. 
 
 Were set from his afiection's din 
 
 As far as innocence from sin, 
 
 And bis cold heart from her bright camp 
 
 As Neptune is from Nature's lamp. 
 
 " Yon gave me all that scorn could move 
 And deemed a foreign love could prove, 
 Because of lordlier pedigree, 
 A mate more meet for Elva Lee. 
 But oh ! the shadow you have cast 
 Across the sunliglit of the past. 
 The lonesome shrouds whose folds are tiung 
 O'er childhood's clifls where once we clung, 
 The mourner in your cottage room 
 That knocks for entrance at the tomb, 
 And sad for her whose woes are mine 
 Lone Melvin on the surgy brine ! 
 My comrades, do you marvel now 
 That grief is castled on my brow ? 
 
 ^' My life is like the inttmt rose 
 
 That never saw its leaves unclose, 
 
 Like unhatched egg some rol)in laved 
 
 In far secluded forest shade 
 
 Whose lime-bound wings will never l)ear 
 
 A songster through the wilds of air, 
 
 Nor from whose shell-imprisoned bird 
 
ELVA LEE. 201 
 
 Will festal note be ever heard ; 
 Like Alchemy's full sail of thought 
 That never found the port it sought, 
 And like the meteor in its rise 
 That swiftly sweeps the empty skies, 
 But, ere it reach its human goal, 
 Must Ijurn away its fiery soul : 
 Like flying sparks of ardent fire 
 Did all my hopes of youth expire, 
 And, like the borealis jade, 
 Did childhood's visions flit and fade. 
 The mount where my high mark was set, 
 Peers far in heaven above me yet ; 
 The car of all I once could feel 
 Is crumbled to a rusty wheel 
 Whose wasted rim of rotten ore 
 Will run jour track of joy no more ; 
 Like rills beneath a sultry sky 
 Did, one by one, my pleasures dry ; 
 > My brightest dreams were swept awa}', 
 Like vapors on a breezy day. 
 And, like the tide whose waves divide 
 The Bird and Beast on either side, 
 Did life's deep stream in grief's dark wall 
 In one broad sheet of sadness fall." 
 
 When Melvin's narrative began 
 A joyous race the sky-steed ran, 
 
202 EI.VA LEE. 
 
 And heaven revealed her sunny face 
 From every inch of vaulted space ; 
 But vapors gathering deep and thick 
 Betrayed a sky whose lieart was sick, , 
 AVhile her contortioned brow expressed 
 The secret throes that racked her ]:)reast. 
 Now, in her fever's hectic hight, 
 Her forehead shot electric light, 
 And groans of agony were flung 
 Incessant from her thunder tongue. 
 While death's cold sweat came down in liaS 
 As Melvin closed his plaintive tale. 
 
 So dense and dark the waters fell, 
 
 Not e'en a mariner could tell 
 
 The limit line that might declare 
 
 The seas of earth from those of air 
 
 Whose battling billows warfare led 
 
 From Jove's high throne to Neptune's bed, 
 
 While, here and there, in frantic play 
 
 The dolphin lightnings sped their way. 
 
 And, round and round, the sea-barge whirled 
 
 Her storm-dance through a maelstrom world. 
 
 The day king twice had donned his crown. 
 
 And twice had laid his scepter down, 
 
 But buried in the balmy wave. 
 
 The bark saw not the light he gave. 
 
 Still through the tempest's mazy net, 
 
ELVA LEE. 203 
 
 The weary ship was loihiig yet. 
 Now far at last, fatigued and torn, 
 The heavy clouds are onward borne, 
 And leave unsunk the fragile form 
 That cleft the dark, cyclonic storm. 
 
 Ah ! look upon a thousand graves 
 
 Whose mounds are but surrounding waves ; 
 
 Look on tlie cold and shattered wrecks 
 
 The sullen winds and waters vex. 
 
 Are these the homes of jubilee 
 
 AVhdse deep foundation was the sea, 
 
 That rocked in hope and slept in pride 
 
 That danced along a hostile tide, 
 
 And, in the beam of danger's eye, 
 
 Defiance flung to sea and sky ; 
 
 While yet tlie dame that mocked their power 
 
 AVas in her embryotic hour, 
 
 And long ere wife of winds was wild 
 
 In travail with her tempest child ? 
 
 Where are the spires tliat told to thee 
 
 The shifting cities of the sea? 
 
 Where is the shout that sounded once ? 
 
 Will nature's lips give no response, 
 
 Except the solemn interlude 
 
 Of ocean's shipwrecked solitude ? 
 
 Where yonder waves their freight reveal,, 
 Lies half submerged a burning keel ; 
 
204 KLVA I.EE. 
 
 Of lordly man's deep billow plough, 
 The only trace that lingers now. 
 A single jjlank that burst its tie 
 E'roni its red wreck floats closely Ijy, 
 And in the ardor of despair 
 Tivo fainting forms are clinging there. 
 A lone canoe is on the deep : 
 From mount to gulf, l^ehold it leap 
 Across the unbefriending spray 
 To where the drowning sailors lay ; 
 And Melvin's hand impels the oar 
 From life astern to clpath before. 
 
 Ah ! never yet did woe's appeal 
 
 Upon that soul of love congeal ; 
 
 The f\xintest sigh of heart distressed 
 
 Found echo in his generous breast ; 
 
 The lightest touch of misery's sword 
 
 The armor of his bosom gored, 
 
 And where the storm of grief might l;)urst 
 
 There Melvin spanned his rainbow first. 
 
 The twain that now unconscious float 
 
 Are lifted in his little boat; 
 
 From crest to crest on danger's track 
 
 Jlis oar impels that life boat back, 
 
 And now, his deed of peril past, 
 
 The bark he left is reached at last. 
 
KLVA LEE. 205 
 
 A hast}' couch is soon prepared 
 To shelter those the tempest spared, 
 And sympathy's white arm extends 
 To them the warmth of stranger friends ; 
 While simple arts their stores supply 
 Their starless guests to vivify. 
 With all the gentleness they know, 
 The}^ tease the stagnant pulse to flow, 
 And watch with long-suspended breath 
 The balanced scale of life and death. 
 Now charity's bright smiles go round, 
 For rich success their toil has crowned ; 
 As to the banquet, kindly spread. 
 Approach the slow-reviving dead. 
 
 With brother forms of human kind 
 
 Companionship once more they find. 
 
 Aware of all that late befel. 
 
 They bear their deep misfortune well 
 
 And meekly don the diadem 
 
 That re-existence gives to them. 
 
 l)Ut, while they humbly dedicate 
 
 The sweetest meal they ever ate 
 
 To him who saw their loneliness 
 
 And closed their hour of keen distress, 
 
 They l)reathe a reverential prayer 
 
 For kindred souls that are not there ; 
 
 Bright hearts that, far from haunts of ease, 
 
206 ELVA LEE. 
 
 8et out with tbeni across the seas, 
 Brave sentinels that walk no more 
 Their ocean l)eat from shore to shore, 
 Above whose bosoms far below 
 The corals build their towers of snow. 
 
 On one the sun of life displayed 
 Across the field a length'ning shade, 
 Where forty years had sped their plough 
 Through every sod upon his brow : 
 The orb that sent its golden ray 
 To light the other's mortal day, 
 In heaven's upliended ceiling set, 
 Beams in its bright ascension yet. 
 From lands estranged in clime and name 
 Tlie two ill-fated wanderers came; 
 The ships, on which they voyaged, ne'er 
 Had shaken off their foreign air. 
 Till, sea-besieged and storm-waylaid, 
 Their dving hulks acquaintance made: 
 The hardy seamen, storm-beset, 
 On soil or wave had never met. 
 Till, in that fitful hour of dread 
 Outflung on ocean's seething l)ed, 
 Where struggling with the angry main 
 Against the midnight hurricane, 
 Amid the dead that round them sank, 
 They fostened to that floating plank ; 
 
ELVA LEE. 207 
 
 From which, though tides and death assail, 
 Tliey owe their hves to Melvin Hale. 
 
 Bnt where is Melvin from the throng 
 
 Tliat laizz once more with shout and song. 
 
 As though around each heart no blast 
 
 Of adverse fate had ever passed, 
 
 No storm of grief or cloud of care, 
 
 Had ever wrought a sliii)wreck there ? 
 
 Above the Ijliss tliat round them sings, 
 
 From shroud to shroud his hammock swings. 
 
 This tinsel world and all its train, — 
 
 A gewgaw in the gilded chain 
 
 Coquettish nature strings at reck 
 
 And dangles round her azure neck, — 
 
 Its richness lost and luster dim, 
 
 Ko charm possessed or lure for him. 
 
 His fancy soars to higher fields 
 
 In search of fruits their herbage yields ; 
 
 like eagle to his mountain nest, 
 
 He climbs to solitude for rest. 
 
 And, full of thought and measured words 
 
 As autumn bough with summer birds, 
 
 He turns his soul to themes sublime 
 
 And asks a boon of father Time. 
 
208 ELVA lp:e, 
 
 Mel VI n's Petition. 
 
 King of ages, King of men, 
 King of worlds beyond our ken, 
 Haughty, hoary, wrinkled, Time, 
 Wilt thou pardon me the crime 
 Of a supplicative chime ? 
 
 Though my suit may seem thee cold, 
 Though I test thy patience bold. 
 Still, if thou canst make delay, 
 I have office here to-day, 
 Something Ito thee would say. 
 
 Should thy higliness condescend 
 Lowly thus to see me bend, 
 As I ask but little fees, 
 Steals it not thy hour of ease, 
 Just one moment, if thou please. 
 
 Years untold their round have rolled, 
 And the earth herself is old ; 
 Countless kingdoms passed away, 
 Legions, millions cast their clay. 
 Since thou saw'st thv natal dav. 
 
ELVA LEE. 209 
 
 Stars have glistened, stars decayed, 
 Newer worlds appearance made, 
 Bone and muscle, woe the worth ! 
 Fertilized the sands of earth 
 Since the smirise of thy birth. 
 
 Dark the shades of death were flnng 
 Round thy sinews soft and young ; 
 High thy planet balls were piled 
 On the midnight, wan and wild, 
 That creation bore her child. 
 
 When thy matron's tender eye 
 Sparkled deep and kindled high, 
 When she nursed thy helpless woes, 
 Cradled soft thy young repose, 
 And her orb of ages rose ; 
 
 When her every care was given 
 High to fledge thy soul in heaven ; 
 Then she sent thy sceptered pride 
 In a mazy chariot ride 
 O'er thy blue dominions wide ; 
 
 Placed a gleaming, mystic brand 
 In tliy stainless little hand ; 
 From her stellar canopies, 
 Flung her streamers to the breeze 
 On her dark and shoreless seas ; 
 
210 p:lva lee. 
 
 Ah I she dreamed not of the robes 
 Yet to fold around her globes, 
 Of the billows deep and wide, 
 On whose shoaled and surging tide 
 Far and lone tliy bark should ride. 
 
 Loud the cry of grief has rung, 
 Gay and festive groups among, 
 Since that hour when, oh, sad one ! 
 Eden lost and soul undone, 
 Adam wailed his nuirdered son. 
 
 Sultry days 'twas tlnne to toil 
 Swampy lands and sterile soil 
 Round this dull terraqueous glade ; 
 Cypress bougli and willow shade 
 Mourn the hand that keens thy ])lade. 
 
 Mounded graves in myriad lands. 
 Countless as the sea-side sands. 
 In all space l)elow the sun 
 Where thy cheerless race was run, 
 Tell the deeds thy hands have done. 
 
 Ripening ages slowly trace 
 
 In tne furrows of thy face, 
 
 A\'here the flowers of health had blown, 
 
 Where the corn of joy had grown. 
 
 Deep the seeds of sadness sown. 
 
ELVA LEE. 211 
 
 Lungs tliat served tliy system long, 
 Lips that chimed tliy boyhood song, 
 Queue, once darlv as skyless night. 
 Eyes once, more than noonday, bright ; 
 All have lost thy youth's delight. 
 
 Lo! Thy once emblazoned name 
 111 becomes thy l)«nding frame. 
 Oh ! who dreamed when life began 
 Time, himself, should wear the ban 
 Of emaciated jnan? 
 
 Ah ! poor form whose ills I see, 
 
 I compassionate with thee. 
 
 I do love all aged seers. 
 
 Love them for their joys and tears, 
 
 And the knowledge of their years. 
 
 I would fain their comfort sing, ' 
 Fain to them assistance bring. 
 And I plight sincerest vow 
 'Tis with honorable brow 
 That I make proposal now. 
 
 I have wandered through mankind 
 Some more worthy heart to find, 
 In the maze of millions gone, 
 Than the unassuming one 
 Whom thou deign'st to look upon. 
 
212 i<:lva lee. 
 
 But the mighty host among, 
 Thousands more discreet and youn^ 
 All engaged in better spheres, 
 When the hour of hazard nears, 
 Leave for thee no volunteers. 
 
 Thou art faint and flaccid now, 
 Age is sculptured on thy brow ; 
 Rankling ills the breast annoy ; 
 I have thought in thy employ 
 Thou might'st need a servant boy. 
 
 Oft I saw, in ])oyhood's days, 
 Meadows mown and shaven braes 
 That remembrance pictures yet, 
 And whose every pace was wet 
 With the rain-drops of my sweat. 
 
 Now, thy mighty Mower ! why 
 May not even such as I 
 Who have felt heaven's breezes fan 
 Horny hands and cheeks of tan 
 Mow with thee the ranks of IVIan? 
 
 1 have sought seclusion long 
 From a world of strife and wrong, 
 Friends I loved no more I see. 
 Only few will smile on me ; 
 Now I ask a boon of thee. 
 
ELVA LKK. 213 
 
 In the life that I have led 
 From my humble cradle Ijed, 
 A'^aried was my lonely lot, 
 Thousands known who knew me not, 
 Those who knew have now forgot. 
 
 Still my kind lias not a form, 
 Man or maid, whom I would harm ; 
 Yet I deemed my missioix just. 
 Once installed to do thy trust, 
 Mo^\' for thee where mow I must. 
 
 I will hind myself as thine 
 
 While the rolling spheres shall shine, 
 
 Till creation's lamp is sped 
 
 And eternity shall tread 
 
 In thy steps when thou art dead. 
 
 When the earth will see no sun, 
 When her gyral flight is done, 
 Thou and I will cease to mow ; 
 From our sickled fields below 
 To eternal judgment go. 
 
 Sad am I my soul to bind 
 To this mole-hill of mankind. 
 Sad to stem life's hckle wave, 
 And I loathe to be a slave 
 In the dungeon of the grave. 
 
214 ELVA I.EE. 
 
 I will toil and thou niay'st sleep, 
 I will sell my service cheap, 
 And I pledge in thy employ 
 xVll my hopes and all my joy ; 
 Wilt thou hire a peasant boy ? 
 
 Ah, the frown that clouds thy sight 
 Never 3'et was sunbeamed bright ! 
 That same scowl ill-fortune bore, 
 Wlien, a thousand times before, 
 Throl:)l:)ed my anxious bosom sore. 
 
 Lo ! th}^ flaming answer lies 
 In the furnace of thine eyes : 
 jVfy sublimest hopes are flown ; 
 I must roam the world alone. 
 Till by thee mj^-self am mown. 
 
 Hu.sh, thou demon, drown thine ire 
 In the floods of thine own fire, 
 Thou need'st not thy temper .show. 
 Ah, old man, 'tis long ago 
 Such a storm I learned to know ! 
 
 Thou art not the first I saw 
 Trespass Heaven's holiest law ; 
 "As thyself thy neighbor love," 
 Is a snow-white carrier dove 
 Never sent thee from above. 
 
ELVA LEE. 215 
 
 Disappointment undesigned ! 
 Thou, dark cloud, art not unkind, 
 Till the thunders of thy frown 
 That the livid lightnings crown 
 And the drops of grief come down. 
 
 If I asked of thee, my friend,' 
 
 More, perchance, than thou couldst lend, 
 
 Thy refusal still was all 
 
 That my heart's dismantled wall 
 
 Could defy without a fall. 
 
 I, mayhap, have done thee wrong, 
 Yet I planned this meeting long : 
 Now dissolve, thou sacred spell, 
 That my bosom loved to tell 
 To a friend I loved too well. 
 
 Once full blown my hope flower grew ; 
 Thee, my liege, and hope, adieu ; 
 When I make my peace with men. 
 Offal in the earthworm's den. 
 Thou and I shall meet again. 
 
 Once more with cloud, and fire, and blast, 
 The trembling heavens are overcast ; 
 The angry seas, in their despair, 
 
21 () ELVA LEE. 
 
 Meet hand to hand the troops of air; 
 The storm that rocks from shore to shore 
 Is prince of all that reigned before, 
 While thousands swell in foam-piled graves 
 His churchyard kingdom of the waves. 
 
 Now, darkly closed his fearful reign, 
 The monarch seeks a new domain ; 
 His heart is weak, his face is wan, 
 His courtier winds again are gone. 
 But where on Neptune's wide abode 
 Is now the bark that Melvin rode ? 
 Ask of the gust that boils the wave. 
 The sea-god in his sullen cave, 
 The whirlpool roar and billow shock 
 From gulf to gulf and rock to rock ! 
 
 A little skiff with iiumans three 
 Winds its lone way across the sea : 
 'Tis that same boat that once before 
 Two dying forms from danger bore ; 
 The helpless crew that rode her then 
 Compose her cargo once again, 
 And, pushing on through foam and gale, 
 Her oarsman still is Melvin Hale. 
 Two tedious days have trailed their robes 
 Across the ocean's martless globes ; 
 Three ling'ring nights of weariness 
 
ELVA LEE. 217 
 
 The stars looked down on their distress, 
 And deep within their bosoms clasp 
 The savage claws of famine's grasp. 
 No longer now the cords of life 
 Defy the edge of hunger's knife : 
 One sacrificed, devoted breast 
 Must be a martyr for the rest. 
 By all agreed, one heart must bleed 
 Upon the altar of their need, 
 In destitution's sullen den 
 Be dainty food for fellow men. 
 Beneath the gems of night's dark zone. 
 The lot is cast, the die is thrown. 
 And sorrow turns her languid eye 
 On who may live and who may die. 
 Oh, hide thy face, thou crescent pale. 
 Read not the doom of Melvin Hale! 
 
 Once more the trembling die is cast 
 On sea's green sheet of waters vast. 
 And all await with fevered breath 
 Whose task must be this deed of death. 
 'Tis he, on whom the sun of time 
 Sends down his rays of summer prime. 
 On whom life's orb of day's high hill 
 Shines in its bright ascension still. 
 The steel that soon his blood shall stain 
 From Melvin's belt is drawn amain ; 
 
218 VA.XA LEK. 
 
 The senior sailor takes the brand 
 And lays it in his comrade's hand. 
 
 " Though this poor frame is not thy foe, 
 Strike deep and sure the fatal blow ; 
 The kindest cut that thou canst give 
 Is that which bids me shortest live," 
 And Melvin folds his arms at rest 
 Upon his pale, but cheerful, breast. 
 
 The youthful seaman heaves a sigh, 
 Then turns to Heav'n his planet eye : 
 " O (lod ! is all I feel a dream, 
 Is such a fall in life's black stream. 
 Can this mad heart dare such a deed 
 As make my own redeemer bleed ? 
 Heaven ! rain do^vn thy tears on me 
 And quench this Hame of agony ! 
 Thou thrice accursed and icy steel 
 Whose coldness in my heart I feel, 
 Thou crimson fiend, thou death-clad brand, 
 What dost thou in my jialsied hand? 
 Go, go, far hence, thou shining slave. 
 And serve some monster of the wave. 
 Do thy dark war 'mid centaur bands, 
 Thou hell-lmilt tool of human hands." 
 AVith more than strength of mortal Avrung, 
 The broken l)lade was wheeling fiung. 
 
ELY A LEE. 219 
 
 But ill the elder sailor's breast 
 
 The sword of hunger deeper pressed, 
 
 And feebleness at last had shot 
 
 Its missive through a fatal spot. 
 
 He moved his tongue to say good by 
 
 And stretched him in the boat to die. 
 
 He raised his eyes each form to scan : 
 
 " My comrades," said the dying man, 
 
 " If fortune yet will smile on you 
 
 And flowery shores 'tis yours to view, 
 
 Should some sad form of human kind 
 
 Enquire for one they cannot find, 
 
 Who, questing his alloted queen 
 
 To climes unknown and lands unseen, 
 
 Had left forlorn, far off to roam, 
 
 A peaceful vale and happy home. 
 
 Inform them, wlien their li])s invite, 
 
 Beneatli the seas my bones are white ; 
 
 But, ah ! may Heaven attend that maid 
 
 When 'neath these waves my limbs are laid. 
 
 May blessings bud and bloom for thee, 
 
 Where'er thou art, sweet Elva Lee." 
 
 The last faint words were scarcely said 
 
 Before the suffering man was dead. 
 
 The tameless birds of wild surprise 
 Spread their broad plumes in Melvin's eyes. 
 In one strange hour he saw the chief 
 
220 i:i>\'A i.KK. 
 
 That captiiri?d all hi.s hoyt^ of grief, 
 
 The inlet to his lake of tears 
 
 That Howed from dark departed years. 
 
 A thousand falling glanees storm 
 
 Upon the stranger's silent form ; 
 
 Eaeh comrade kneels and Ijreatlies a i)rayer 
 
 For kindred souls that are not there. 
 
 His feeble mourners hasten through 
 
 The last kind ofHce they may do; 
 
 They lay him on the rolling wave, 
 
 And soon he tills his ocean grave. 
 
 Wants l)ended how and twanging string 
 
 Still speed the shafts of hunger's king ; 
 
 One victim is already laid 
 
 'Neath foam flowers white of sea's green glade: 
 
 The dew of death is falling now 
 
 Upon his young companion's brow, 
 
 And faintly swells the feeble voice 
 
 That once made nature's self rejoice. 
 
 " My comrade, kind and dear to me, 
 
 A parting prayer I breathe for thee ; 
 
 My thanks receive for that cold hour 
 
 Thou snatched'st me from the mermaid bower 
 
 Whose foam-glossed leaves of l^illows green 
 
 Outsnow the coral trunks they screen ; 
 
 May Heaven direct thy toiling oars 
 
 To once loved scenes and sunny sliores, 
 
ELVA LEE. 221 
 
 And when my face thou shall behold 
 All bleak as night and wintry cold, 
 Ah ! let no shade of grief descend 
 To cloud my lone, surviving friend, 
 But lift me from my fragile barge 
 And give my corse to Nature's charge. 
 Heave no sad sigh and shed no tear, 
 But lay me on my billow bier : 
 Through all the ills that late befel, 
 I said no word but knew thee well ; 
 I saw thy form in better days, 
 My lips ere now have sung thy praise, 
 And, lo, my Melvin, take to thee 
 Tliis dying hand of Elva Lee ! " 
 Her closing lips entombed her breath, 
 And her true heart was cold in death. 
 
 In tearful mood of tenderness 
 
 And look of love's wild loneliness, 
 
 All snowy }>ale he stood before 
 
 The seraph heart that beat no more. 
 
 The power of worlds may never roll 
 
 The rock of sadness from his soul : 
 
 But l)y the sweep of sorrow's gust 
 
 Above affection's marl)le dust, 
 
 A thousand times i]i phrenzy bleak, 
 
 He stroked her hair and kissed her cheek. 
 
 Then j)lunging in his s])irit's tide. 
 
222 KL\A LK]0. 
 
 lie couched him by his Elvii's side ; 
 There, in his bosom's hilled relief, 
 He knew no niore of earth and grief. 
 
 Along the tlo(«r of yon l)lne sky . 
 A timely l)ark was shifting ])y. 
 They found the sailors numl) and chill. 
 But coals oflife iii Melvin still. 
 'Tis now compassion's gentle task. 
 In mood aftectionate, to bask 
 A creature's woes in kindness' sun, 
 As once poor Melvin's self had done. 
 Dark hours pass on, and all their art 
 Scart-e warm the current in liis heart, 
 AVhile wasted li])s and temples pale 
 Unfold his long and troubled tale. 
 Once more in sleep his limbs recline. 
 Ere scarce he sung the closing line. 
 He reached to take his Elva's hand 
 And clasped it in the angel's land. 
 
 AVith sadness in their deepest cores 
 
 They bore his clay to foreign shores ; 
 
 Far by the ocean's restless wave 
 
 They spread his shroud and dug his grave, 
 
 And lowly lies — all lonely — he 
 
 That won the heart of Elva Lee. 
 
MELCHA'8 MISSION. 
 
 To my life-long friend, James W. Carney, of Chicago, III., whose just discrimination 
 as 2 critic, whose patriotic devotion to the beautiful, but unfortunate, island of his nativity 
 — a scene in the history of which, is here portrayed, — as well as whose taste and appre- 
 ciative familiarity with English literature, I have intimately known, the following composi- 
 tion is most respectfully inscribed by the author. 
 
 " 'Tis dreamy to drift on the l)lue-bosomed ocetui 
 
 Whose tremulous waves rolling steadily on. 
 Like pilgrims in ranks at their silver devotion, 
 
 Are but the bright tombs of the years that are gone; 
 On the snow-Avoven wings of the limitless ages, 
 
 Like a dove in the a/Aire, far downward to soar 
 And |)ereli on the l)ranch which our fancy engages 
 
 On some long molded tree that may flourish no more. 
 
 "And ah ! in the phalanx of eras and nations, 
 Where tind we another more flowery than thee, 
 
 Least noticed, most favored, of God's sweet creations, 
 Fair evergreen queen on thy throne of the sea ? 
 
 Ireland! to-day, though thy prospects be lowly, 
 
224 mklcha's mission. 
 
 Tliough the stranger and foe may but scoti' at tliee 
 Yet, who regrets disatiectioii should solely [no\\\ 
 
 Begrime every spot on thy lily-like l)row'.'' 
 
 " Oh ! is there no bud in the vale of compassion 
 
 To relieve thy blank spring of monotonous wrongs? 
 ^lust charity's self from tlie rain-clouds of fashion 
 
 But yield thee the droppings of sighs and of songs ? 
 Why droop'st thou before us, disconsolate maiden, 
 
 And laughingly gaze on the gra})e of relief, 
 So far 'l)ove thy grasping? AVhy so art thou laden 
 
 ^^'ith millstones of l)ondage and shackles of grief? 
 
 '■ Ye leaves of mankind in the land of the stranger 
 
 That l)Uoyantly spangle on liberty's trees, 
 Perceive ye afar the black meteors of danger 
 
 That burst through the ribs of the winds and the seas ? 
 And mark ye no stings in those hisses of warning 
 
 Will plunge at the feet that are crushing' them soon ? 
 Vesuvius once frowned in the kingdom of morning, 
 
 But Avh ere were the magnates tliat mocked lier at 
 noon ? 
 
 "A swarm of brave warriors have l)attled on paper 
 And shed the last drop of their ink-l)lood for tliee ; 
 
 But whose is the hand that shall seize the dread taper 
 And wreathe thy proud mountains with tlames of 
 the free? 
 
melcha's mlssion. 225 
 
 Many a lonely and sad separation 
 
 Fulfilled its dark end in thy emerald clime, 
 
 And many a scar of thy long desolation 
 
 Is mapped on the silver-white l)osom of time. 
 
 " From thy gardens and meadows so gemmed and so 
 sunny, 
 
 Within thy loud sea-walls encircled, embraced, 
 For cent'ries thy children have gathered the honey 
 
 Themselves and their dear ones were never to taste. 
 Like the leaves on the aspen that hang but to tremble 
 
 Before the chill breeze of a curse or a frown. 
 Round tlie corpse of thy glory in tears they asseml)le 
 
 And hide from the ghost of tlieir fathers' renown. 
 
 " Confiding and chaste, 'twas unkind to inveigle 
 
 And fetter thy soul and to fence in thy breath, 
 Poor perishing dove in the grasp of the eagle 
 
 And fondling his claws in the frenzy of deatli. 
 Can nothing extract from tliy heart the rude arrow 
 
 That cunning and treachery shot in thy side 't 
 Thy lane of oppression is basely too narrow 
 
 For even the slave to whom all is denied. 
 
 " The fruit that depends from thy l)OUghs of endeavor 
 But crumbles to ashes while feasting the lips : 
 
 Can it be thou art set in the shadow forever 
 Or lost in the realms of eternal eclipse? 
 
226 mkf-cha's mission. 
 
 Glemi the moss from thy sorrow : with spirit iiii(|Uail- 
 Mount into thy ark, for victory's wings [ing 
 
 Aro the Ijillows it floats on, and ])rnne thy bewaihng 
 O'er tlic pknulerod Laigh-fail of thy vah:)rous kings. 
 
 "In tlie cycles long gone it was once a sweet fever 
 Among the scholastic, the good, the letined, 
 
 The infidel sage, and tlie idol believer. 
 
 From Rome to the pigmiest conrts of mankind 
 
 To visit thy homes of religion and learning- 
 New (piarry to seek in the })arks of thy lore : 
 
 Now far to the ends of the globe, nineturning. 
 
 Thy children are sli]»ping in fleets from thy shf)re. 
 
 " Pretensionless all are thy dreams tliat outnnmber 
 
 The star-figured hordes of thy own ( iadel-Glas : 
 Ogygia is l)lack with the fetters of slnmber 
 
 And heeds not the snake, thougli he hiss in the grass. 
 Alas ! thou art weak, and thy slimy oppressors 
 
 Pro])ortionate })leasures still coin from thy pains, 
 And thou art content at the heels of aggressors 
 
 To stalk the proud earth in a cassock of chains. 
 
 "There is ])oison at work in the blood of thy morals, 
 There's a lie in each thread of thy l)ard-woven rann ; 
 
 Else why art thou pillaged of lil erty's laurels, 
 And wherefore so cramped in so trivial a span ? 
 
 Is it true, as a nation, no more will thev trust us 
 
meu'Ha's mission. 227 
 
 \\lu) have woni every trait that belongs to the 
 Ijrave ? 
 There may still be a day for the reign of Augustus 
 When a stabbed uncle sleejjs in the mold of the 
 grave. 
 
 " AMiat dungeon hath frozen the generous leaven 
 
 That planted the heat in thy forefathers' fires? 
 Look into the gold-molded windows of Heaven, 
 
 The question propose to the shades of thy sires. 
 Beliold how tliey sneer at the banner that dims on 
 
 The gilt and the sheen of thy bulletless guns 
 And the cheeks of those sires in their mitres gi-ow 
 crimson 
 
 That manhood forsakes their ol)sequious sons. 
 
 " There's a cloud overshading thy chivalrous spirit ; 
 
 Thou art not to-day what thou wert long ago; 
 Since the stranger is here and his swords disinherit 
 
 Thy gray-templed lords for his temples of snow. 
 Has the razor of conquest the tliroat of thy glory 
 
 So mortally gashed, it is never to heal ? 
 Oh, could the blind future but checker thy story. 
 
 The hour of dissolving thy destiny's seal ! 
 
 " Poor bondsman at toil on that flower- vested island, 
 What strange consolation must })rance in his soul 
 To think of liow manv a waterv mile and 
 
228 mki.ciia's mission. 
 
 How inuny a death-feathered billow may roll 
 Between him and the friends of his bosom departed 
 
 From realms where each monarch once dyed his 
 own Ijrand; 
 Thy noble and gentle are left vacant-hearted, 
 
 While the ]>anper, it seems, is thei^rinceofthe land. 
 
 '' lerne, the ])lamage those monarchs ])araded 
 
 When thou wert a kingdom of diamond and gold, 
 Like the scepter they wore and the laws they invaded, 
 
 Not, ])erhaps, soon again is it thine to l)ehold. 
 Still the weeds of defection are sometimes adorning, 
 
 There is often a talisman wombed in a tear; 
 Fi'om the night that is blackest may ])lossom a 
 morning 
 
 The brightest that ^its in the crown of tiie year. 
 
 " In the eye of that Being who ever disposes 
 
 Some cog of decay to the ])rondly secure. 
 An ii'on-clad built from the leaves of the roses 
 
 Of ])assive contentment might shelter the ])ure. 
 ('om])lainingless, haply, to follow our duty 
 
 Is all we perceive through the dro})S in the eye, 
 Till the rainl)Ow shall arch in ]\vr I'adiance of beauty 
 
 When the cloud of oppression is dead in the sky." 
 
 King Malaclii we})t o'er his crum])liug dominions. 
 And often he ])ausc'd in his troul)led refrain 
 
mkiaha's mission. 229 
 
 To tempt a new hue on his colorless pinions 
 
 And swim o'er the breeze of despondence again. 
 
 Of 1 lis bosom, he paced through each transept and 
 chancel ; 
 He baited each pleasure and challenged each art 
 
 For a philter that yet might efficiently cancel 
 The scorpion's sting in his agonized heart. 
 
 " My crucified country," the monarch proceeded, 
 
 " Unharness my soul from its chariot of clay, 
 In eternity's pastures to roam unimpeded 
 
 And cure the sore thought of thy early decay. 
 When the full moon of freedom shall marshal her 
 allies 
 
 And Tara resmile in her ribbons of joy, 
 When the green buds shall snow far along thy gay 
 valleys, 
 
 Perhaps thou wilt mourn an undiademed boy. 
 
 " Tlie lord of these kingdoms whose weakness dis- 
 graces 
 
 The confidence lost in his coronal bride 
 Will little regret to be tombed in the traces 
 
 Of valiant successors that diet th}^ pride. 
 My blood of ambition grows livid and falters 
 
 At every dim inch of its wearisome flow, 
 And my spirit would worship at factionless altars 
 
 Where never a cypress of carnage shall grow. 
 
230 mklciia's mission. 
 
 " AVas tliy star of niislbrtiine in dizzy asceiidence, 
 
 AVlieii populous evils were teeming on high 
 And the tortuous viper in gaunt independence 
 
 From the mast-head of pestilence trailed intliesky? 
 My soil-shrouded fathers, is this the sad issue 
 
 Of cliiefry like yours your descendant beholds, 
 This pallor-lipped reptile, this hlood-spotted tissue 
 
 That darkens the land with his cumbersome folds? 
 
 " Must mine be the ottice to reap the red Harvest 
 
 That tyrainiy's deep-chested seasons have sown, 
 Or Initton around me the steel-braided war-vest 
 
 Till tlie wild hornets l)uzz o'er a tenantless throne? 
 Oh ! could I l)Ut clear this tempestuous weather 
 
 That blackens my In'ain to its iciest pole, 
 These multifold aches that are digging together 
 
 A liighway of death through the Alps of my soul ! 
 
 " Far sweeter would be the imperial disbursement 
 
 Of all I possess, if my envy could steal 
 From recalcitrant fate an eternal inmiersement 
 
 In the neighborly billow that coffined O'Niall. 
 My })ilgriniage kingward was toilsomely dreary: 
 
 I rule a proud monarch and serve a base slave, 
 A conduct so clieerless, a' splendor so weary, 
 
 1 hate the dead beggar who reigns in the grave. 
 
melcha's mission. -I',)! 
 
 " My lieart at this hour's a disastrous Pharsaha 
 
 Where hope ])y the thousands have perished in vain ? 
 The insect may bask in liis native regalia 
 
 From petal to boll of his joyous domain : 
 For the king of his country no rush of complacence 
 
 Will nod in the breeze o'er the crocodile's nest, 
 And nothing outlives s<ive the smoke of a s])ray ?»ense 
 
 Tliat covers with bubl)les the sea of his l)r('ast. 
 
 " Too grievingly nari'ow the I'oute of evasion 
 
 AVithout the kind thouglit of some heavenly guide, 
 Between the bleak Scylla of tem|)ting occasion 
 
 And Charybdian shoal of an imbecile i)ri(l('. 
 Alas ! it is sad that a fabulous sibyl 
 
 Should l)light the rich buds of a blossoming mind, 
 And sorrow's shrill lungs find a key in the treble 
 
 Of passions unfeasted and conu'ades unkind. 
 
 "Oh! liow many would sli]) from the icy ascension 
 
 That winds to the turret of barren renown, 
 Could they see but the were-wolf's unvirgin })retension 
 
 xVnd the congregate ills of a kingdomless crown! 
 Heaven grant me some guard 'gainst the scorching- 
 invader ; 
 
 Let the knife in my soul cut a way through its 
 crust, 
 Let me hide from the smile of the fawning upl>raider 
 
 And be king of the worms that rejoice in my dust." 
 
232 melc'ha's mission. 
 
 A blank in his manhood, a leaden depression, 
 
 A wealth of such thorns as make glory accursed, 
 Were the only concomitant gifts of possession 
 
 That jeweled the scepter of Malachi I. 
 Turgesius, the chieftain, the tyrant, the stranger, 
 
 Had coiled round his country a cancerous chain. 
 And his land, an asylum of discord and danger, 
 
 Was lost in the sea of the on-rolling Dane. 
 
 The conqueror lolled in the gloss of his palace 
 
 Serenely exulting o'er deeds he had done, 
 And kissing the lips of his red royal chalice 
 
 Heaped high with the symbols of victory won. 
 " My fame," said the soldier, "is ripe to contentment ; 
 
 Not a clog now remains to my pride undestroyed, 
 No more is there left that should feel the resentm'ent 
 
 My foes dearly know I have ever employed. 
 
 " I have planted my heel on the neck of the nation 
 
 Whose concjuest allured me so widely from home 
 Till she grew but one sheet of supreme desolation 
 
 And her fields and her vineyards are red with her 
 foam. 
 I have swept, like a tempest, adown those dim moun- 
 tains 
 
 Across her green bosom outstretching afar, 
 Have flooded her valleys and spotted her fountains 
 
 With the hot, salty paint of the palette of war. 
 
melc'ha's mission. 233 
 
 *' I could sigh for the land that incessantly gnashes 
 
 'Neath agonies, keen as the steel of her knights, 
 And tremblingly kneel at her altars of ashes 
 
 Where the serpent-tressed fury at midnight delights. 
 There's an ache in my pulse when I note the re- 
 searches 
 
 The landmarks require of the grand and the good, 
 When I see the black ruins usurping the churches 
 
 That once here in matchless magnificence stood. 
 
 ^' But ill would it laud a descendant, like Odin's ; 
 
 To lower the battle-dyed flag of the Dane, 
 And the spot I would choicest secure my abode in's 
 
 Where princes' last life-blood has deluged the plain. 
 I would not coquette with conjectural causes 
 
 To justif}^ one of my manifold schemes ; 
 In the grammar of carnage I find the true pauses 
 
 That grace tlie last words of a conqueror's dreams. 
 
 " I would stiffen my cheek with the starch of assur- 
 
 A deadening drug on my tenderness pour, [ance. 
 Till mercy in vain should assail my endurance. 
 
 While the edge of my sword is the god I adore. 
 Not a point in the circle from confine to center 
 
 Of human-spun passion may pass me unsummed. 
 Nor a silken emotion successfully enter 
 
 The virtue-proof shell of a conscience benumbed. 
 
234 mp:i>ciia's mission. 
 
 " The lord of this island were womanly silly, 
 
 If the beams of compassion converged in his throne. 
 And why should I query to spare the last lily 
 
 That grows in the valley to whiten alone? [ter, 
 
 I have long kept an eye on the monarch's trim daugh- 
 
 And proudly resolved that the conquest were mine, 
 Though an army of princes devotedly sought her, 
 
 To lure her where only my passion should shine. 
 
 " In my strife-chequered life through a thousand wing- 
 ed dangers, 
 
 In regions surrounding and countries afar, 
 I have made many friends and subdued the rude 
 strangers 
 
 That launched their last plank on the ocean of war. 
 I have kissed many lips; I liave seen many faces, 
 
 Have basked me in many a paradise smile ; 
 But meagre their merit, and humble their graces 
 
 Compared with fair Melclia, the queen of this isle. 
 
 " I have danced with the belles of fair Sweden and 
 Norway, 
 
 Have shared every gift it was theirs to bestow : 
 Not a meteor that shone in that cupid-gilt star-way. 
 
 While Melcha should live, would I care to re-know. 
 By some unrelinement each heart-snare seems laden 
 
 That filches their beauty and blackens its glow : 
 Hibernia's blooming, unparalleled maiden 
 
 Is white in her love as the new- woven snow. 
 
melcha's mission. 235 
 
 " I cannot know why, but I cage a suspicion 
 
 That chirps in my bosom with dungeonless glee, 
 And which, w^hen reflection inhibits its mission, 
 
 Requires of me what may my destiny be. 
 In her each attraction that nearest 1 cherish 
 
 Embowered in perfection I deem I behold ; 
 For her might a commonplace universe perish, 
 
 Who cheaply were bought for a planet of gold. 
 
 " I will ask the gray king to design me a favor, 
 
 Will dive to the dregs of the homage he pays, 
 x^ncl, maugre the boldness of which it niay savor, 
 
 Demand his sweet daughter to gladden my days. 
 It will pinch his old heart that his haughty subduer 
 
 Should steal the love-rose of his desolate home, 
 But the sails of his life, waxing dimmer and fewer, 
 
 Must shortly be reefed 'neath the grave's grassy 
 foam. 
 
 " I care not a rush for his soul-stabbing sorrow, 
 
 I care not a straw for the tears of iiis age : 
 If there be but one pleasure my passion may borrow, 
 
 'Tis mine, though it cost a young life to assuage. 
 The pang, I presume, he will censure severest, 
 
 The floodgate that frees the last wave of his woe. 
 Is that she, whom he held of all prizes the dearest, 
 
 Must be the vile toy of his bosomless foe. 
 
236 mkix'ha's mission. 
 
 " Oil ! will it not shake from his hyppish delusion, 
 
 In cataract awe, an effeminate king, 
 When he shall discover, through clouds of confusion, 
 
 The arrow of insult that hangs in his wing? 
 Away with these r^uibljles, why stoop I to quarrel 
 
 With troublesome guards of my conscience's wall ? . 
 Why idly disport with this mouse of a moral, 
 
 Or sprinkle a pleasure witli inickles of gall ? 
 
 " Determined am I in the rank of advances 
 
 To fly the first colors my fancy may weave. 
 Despite the mischances and, sometimes, the lances 
 
 That sprout in the heart-beds of those w^ho deceive. 
 This virgin, deficient in amorous uses, 
 
 Shall gorge the long blank of a cardinal need. 
 Shall furnish the luxury beauty produces 
 
 Where high-fronted riot untethered may feed. 
 
 " This holiday eve will T call at the mansion 
 
 And wait with my errand upon her proud sire 
 To sliow liim the tide that his seamed soul must 
 launch on, 
 
 The aUar that smokes where his heart must expire." 
 Turgesius repaired to the halls of the cypiier 
 
 That filled the vague breast of the king of a land, 
 Demanding the favor that climaxed his life, or 
 
 Threatening the vengeance his tyranny planned. 
 
melcha's mission. 237 
 
 " King Malachi, health, benediction, and greeting ! 
 
 So much of such gauze as a chieftain may bring, 
 I humbly bestow thee, to season this meeting." 
 
 " In welcome, Turgesius, thou visit'st thy king, 
 And every sweet magnet my island possesses 
 
 That lures thee one moment a guest to my board, 
 Like yellow-eyed jewels, shall peep through the tresses 
 
 Of languid contentment, new-faced and restored. 
 
 " Thou knowest but seldom the bright tires of Baal 
 
 Are kindled to cheer o'er a hypocrite's shrine ; 
 Still need'st thou not seek a defenseless betrayal, 
 
 While thou art a guest at this palace of mine. 
 It is hard to be mild 'mid my many oppressions. 
 
 And joyless thou deemest my mission must be, 
 A scepterless lord in my frowy possessions. 
 
 Extending so cordial an ave to thee. 
 
 " Thou hast heard, I assume, how the sons of these 
 valleys 
 
 Still welcome the stranger with smiles and with 
 cheer. 
 Although he but coins them the serfs of his galleys 
 
 And shipwrecks each hope in the surge of tear. 
 Now here in my home, as my guest, shalt thou wander, 
 
 The master of all that to me may belong ; 
 The reception I yield thee be warmer and fonder. 
 
 Than though thou hadst never designed me a wrong. 
 
238 melcha's mission. 
 
 " Hospitality shines like a star over Erin 
 
 And warms every Ijosom that throbs in her land, 
 While the foe, with the friend, may equally share in 
 
 The flowers she can glean from her poverty's strand. 
 It flows from the heart of the pauper thou spurnest, 
 
 As free and as pure as the streams of a spring ; 
 Not alone to the lowly, but tow'ringly earnest 
 
 It opens the breast of her scepterless king. 
 
 " Believe me, I weep for my glory departed, 
 
 And thou art the rust that hast gnawed it away ; 
 Yet here in my castle shall dance sunny-hearted 
 
 The moments that measure ni}^ conqueror's stay. 
 The hour was a dark one that brought us together, 
 
 An evil simoon for my country and me ; 
 But we friendlily look for some cleverer weather, 
 
 And may we not hope it will circle from tliee? 
 
 " Too often, alas ! is the sword of the soldier 
 
 An i^egis of blood from the deed he achieves. 
 As cold as the snow at the death of the old year 
 
 And heartless, thou know'st, as its frost- withered 
 leaves. 
 But thou art not cast of such granite-grained metal, 
 
 And tyrant's not writ in the page of thy face ; 
 So feast we to-night, and to-morrow shall settle 
 
 The feuds that o'erclothe us with grief and disgrace." 
 
melcha's mission. 239 
 
 ^' Thou art courteous, sire, and a gratitude surely 
 
 I own that I owe thee too deep to repay: 
 I beheve thou bestowest deceitlessly, purely, 
 
 The honor I share in this holiday way. 
 And, indeed, the respect thou evincest, to-morrow 
 
 May look for the rise of a better reward 
 Til an harsh disappointment or nettle-clad sorrow, 
 
 Though these are the verdiu-e may bend o'er the 
 sward. 
 
 "Thou hast never denied me tlie lightest indulgence 
 
 That I have besought from the roll of thy gifts; 
 Thy senile submission emits an effulgence 
 
 To which, like a moth, my gray vanity drifts. 
 Thy conduct translates thee as readier ever 
 
 To grant me a fayor than any to ask. 
 And I will not frown on the ster'lest endeavor 
 
 That tempts thee anew to some palateless task. 
 
 " Now, sire, on this niglit thou hast manifold duties 
 
 That beckon thee towards them to harness and share, 
 And fain would I riot among the gilt l;)eauties 
 
 Alone as they flit in their vacuum of care. 
 Go thou on thy errands ; another complexion. 
 
 Another vignette will be set upon mine : 
 I would chirrap awhile in the boughs of afl'ection 
 
 And kidnap from cupid a draught of his wine." 
 
240 • mklcha's mission. 
 
 •' Enjoy thee, Tiirgesius ; may fortune environ 
 
 Thy spirit with hope on the path to success, 
 Though pleasure is oft but a treacherous siren 
 
 That magic'ly hires to her deadly caress. 
 Thou'rt welcome, indeed, to stroll unregarded 
 
 Through every pasterre that my palace affords ; 
 On thyself hangs the risk that marks thee rewarded 
 
 With fringes of peace or on arras of swords." 
 
 " 'Tis well, my kind king, and farewell for the present. 
 
 I would glide, like a fish, in the aquarium of joy 
 That sparkles alike for the lord and the peasant 
 
 Whose bosoms are clean from grief's briny alloy. 
 He is gone, troubled man, and I can not but pity 
 
 The evils that 'round him descend in such showers; 
 His heart must bo filled with a populous city 
 
 Of ills that, like snakes, are concealed in its bowers. 
 
 " But sorrow, like autumn, grows cold on our spirits 
 
 When hope, like the summer, is locked in the past ; 
 Life's fruit, as it ripens, grows bitter, inherits 
 
 A nature diverse from the seeds we outcast. 
 All men and all women are equally sharers, 
 
 And each wears a garment he clips from some grief ; 
 Deep i\Tinkles, gray temples, but slow standard-bearers, 
 
 That stamp the battalions where woe is the chief. 
 
 " His winter i.-? dark'ning. Sire Malachi shivers, 
 A blanched, shrunken leaf on the twig of decay : 
 
melcha's mission. 241 
 
 No haruspice needs he whose foreknowledge dehvers, 
 ' The kmg is almost at the-end of his way.' 
 
 I doubt not my hour o'er the mystic horizon 
 Of sallow dejection will open at last, 
 
 That my chance of defeat or of victory lies on 
 The grain of the reefs where my anchor is cast. 
 
 "But while the sun shines with encouraging bright- 
 ness, 
 
 Let sorrow, the owl, l)rood afar in the shade ; 
 No lead shall be hung on my heart in its lightness. 
 
 No feather must ftill from my harlequinade. 
 Though the hour-glass be flowing, the dark cloud be 
 growing, 
 
 Tlie worm be at work in the strength of tne oak. 
 Let fancy all glowing, her favors bestowing, 
 
 Still laugh at the snow of seignurial smoke. 
 
 " What a magical damsel is Malachi's daughter, 
 
 So plaguily witching and zealously sweet ; 
 Too justly may languish the many who sought her 
 
 And foinid their reward in the fen of deceit : 
 For who that is mortal could hope the encagement 
 
 Of such a capricious and exquisite dove. 
 The trivial triumph and easy assuagement 
 
 And conquest of such a vast kingdom of love ? 
 
 " The sire and the child ; oh ! what vivid complexions 
 Of opposite types do these beings afford, 
 
242 melcha's mission. 
 
 The zenith and nadir of contrast affections 
 
 That tremble unmeasured from hfe's jarring chord. 
 
 How spritely the one, and how dully the other, 
 Move on to that ferry they never repass ; 
 
 The one is a willow whose gloomy boughs smother 
 The pink on the edges of pastime's crevasse. 
 
 " The one is a bud on the Ijlossom of summer. 
 
 Bright as the branch of her chrysalis days : 
 The other, a time-piece whose beating grows dumber 
 
 Before the pale power of her chemical rays. 
 The one is a new-fitted, blemishless vessel 
 
 Rocked on the brow of her satellite wave ; 
 The other, a meteor descending to nestle 
 
 Within the black depth of the rudderless grave. 
 
 "All welcome, gay lady. Fair JNIelcha, good morrow. 
 
 'Tis rapture to gaze on the rose of thy cheek. 
 'Twere pity that ever the frost-work of sorrow 
 
 Should flaunt its cold flag from a leaf so unique. 
 Approach, lovely woman ; nor would I eschew thee, 
 
 Though princesses vied to aftbrd me delight; 
 The wealth of the world would be less than is due thee, 
 
 Bright sun of the noon-day, and star of my night. 
 
 " Sweet bt^ the tide of our converse together. 
 And gay the refrain of the carols we sing ; 
 
melcha's mission. 243 
 
 Let us skim the black gloom from the brow of foul 
 weather 
 
 And melt the cold winter to gems of the spring : 
 For, while I am with thee, the tempest may thunder, 
 
 The snow may descend till it throttle the sea, 
 But naught shall avail in their fury to sunder 
 
 The love that enchains me forever to thee. 
 
 " I admire thee, thou swan of this beautiful island, 
 
 Beyond a degree that soul may confess : 
 How poor are the charms of the beauties of my land, 
 
 Compared with the virtues of her I address. 
 There is gold in thy feathers, sweet bird of the moun- 
 tain, 
 
 I sinfully envy another to own ; 
 T})ere's a treasure asleep in thy undefiled fountain, 
 
 For which I Lave pined to be fisher alone. 
 
 " My heart is a priest at thy grace-covered altar, 
 
 No conge would deign to the fiat of Rome ; 
 And the psalms I select from affection's own psalter. 
 
 Like doves flutter forth from the ark of thy home. 
 O Melcha, I love thee ! 'Twere a weak adulation 
 
 In one who beholds thee, admires, and adores, 
 To crown thee the first of the bright constellation 
 
 Of feminine circles that shine from those shores; 
 
 "All-beauteous rainbow o'erspanning the sadness 
 That hangs, like a shroud, over manv a land. 
 
244 MEJ.CHA's Mlt^SION. 
 
 Thoii'rt fairest, meseems, in thy stationless gladness 
 For tlie drops and the cloud-palls from which thou 
 art planned. 
 
 And, Melcha, thou rainbow, thy country o'erarching 
 Beneath the dark sky of a conqueror's throne ; 
 
 I admire thee the more that the death-tick is marching 
 So fast o'er the cloud whence the silver hath flown. 
 
 "As a flower of the Alps, which the odorous breezes 
 
 Can never disturb in- her setting of snow ; 
 Yet, in the cold blast that her bare bosom seizes, 
 
 Blooms fair as the cream of the valleys below : 
 So thou art a bud on the bosom of sorrow [clime, 
 
 That peers, like a tower, through the haze of thy 
 The dearer and richer, because thou dost borrow 
 
 No charm from thy kindred to garnish thy prime. 
 
 " I have watched from afar in thy garden of duty 
 
 The flowers thou hast i)lucked for thy frost-templed 
 sire, 
 And never disputed the laurel of beauty, 
 
 'Mong all its wild gems, to the queen I admire. 
 Now, lady, I ask thee to sluire the dominions 
 
 Turgesius hath painted in gore with his sword, 
 More broad than the eagle may circle his pinions, 
 
 And as grand as earth's greatest hath ever explored. 
 
 " No empress of time can compete Avith thy splendor. 
 Can vie with the power T will shower upon tliee ; 
 
melcha's mission. 245 
 
 The globe has no treasure I will not surrender 
 To my pure damask rose of the gem of the sea. 
 
 My pine-pinioned seabirds will plough the dark ocean 
 To do the least favor thy heart may require ; 
 
 Thou shalt be my one object of life's long devotion : 
 Oh, calm the weird notes of a conqueror's lyre ! " 
 
 " I scarcely divine thee, m}^ country's invader, 
 
 Thou hero of many a war-darkened field. 
 Bold, triumphing, conquerless. island-crusader. 
 
 All vainly to whom, have brave armies appealed. 
 Now thou ask'st a poor favor, the pallid affection 
 
 Of one wdiose pale heart was but destined for woe: 
 Wouldst bear me away from paternal protection 
 
 To orgies and banquets I care not to know ? 
 
 " My heart-broken father I can not leave lonely 
 
 Till his dim setting sun of existence go down ; 
 I must bide with him kindly, and ever, and only. 
 
 To soothe his sad soul for a kingdom's lost crown. 
 I thank thee, brave chief, thus to flatter the spirit 
 
 Who dreams that her future can never be bright, 
 Who is born, she believes, at the least to inherit 
 
 The grief of her sire and the gloom of his night. 
 
 "Thou wouldst not, indeed, think so high of a maiden' 
 
 So withered in spirit and lowl}' as I ; 
 So comfortless, cheerless, and manacle-laden, 
 
246 melcha's mission. 
 
 That, as soon as her father, is ready to die. 
 So lustrous a warrior my destiny never 
 
 E'er dreamed to bequeathe me for happiness here ; 
 O chieftain, brave chieftain, would I could ever 
 
 Expect through this life any mate but a tear ! 
 
 '•Success be long with thee; let others enrapture 
 
 The heart that so darkly my country o'erthrew : 
 My esteem and affection thou never canst capture, 
 
 Bold scourge of my kindred, Turgesius, adieu ! " 
 " But, Melcha, thou knowest that mine is the fiat 
 
 Could limit thy life to a gossamer space ; 
 Thyself and thy sire I could destine to die at 
 
 The loop of the gallows, and stained in disgrace." 
 
 ''And is it gallant to bethreaten so coldly 
 
 A desolate girl your proud hand would obtain ; 
 Or is courtship a trade that is harrowed so boldly 
 
 In this island of ours by an amorous Dane? 
 Sometimes, a vast kingdom might suddenly crumble ; 
 
 Before thy hot weapons, like dew, may depart ; [ble, 
 But thou canst not reckon how oft thou mayst stum- 
 
 Ere thou art enthroned in a woman's pure heart." 
 
 " Sweet lady, believe me ; I would not dismantle 
 
 Such joy as seemed most to be fitting to thee, 
 Though entreaties should come from the best of my 
 band till 
 
melcha's mission. 247 
 
 Tlie tide from their lips filled the Suir to the sea ; 
 For thoii art too sacred in my fond opinion, 
 
 From any department to feel any thong, 
 And, so long as this heart has a motion, no minion 
 
 Of navies or armies can do thee a wrong. 
 
 " No regret shall e'er darken thy cherubic spirit, 
 
 Sweetest flower of the blossoms that whiten these 
 vales, 
 Thyself shalt enjoy and thy children inherit 
 
 Whatever the world may transport with its gales. 
 Thy father, thy friends, and thy chosen companions, 
 
 Shall liave a kind home with their monarch and 
 » thee : 
 
 My charity's bough will be broad as the banyan's, — 
 
 Oh, come witli thy kindred and harbor with me ! 
 
 " How gloomily now comes thy snow-crested father, 
 
 I'll ask him the favor thou seem'st to refuse. 
 For I know thou wouldst wed with ihy enemy rather 
 
 Than decline for an instant the lord he would choose. 
 How fares it, brave king, since the hour of our part- 
 ing ? " 
 
 " Turgesius, as well as I truly desire, 
 Receiving my friends and good-humoredly thwarting 
 
 The embers, still glowing, of liberty's fire. 
 
 " For, though but a slave who was once a commander, 
 How can I forget the bright days of the past. 
 
248 melcha's mission. 
 
 When memories still, like swift brooklets, meander 
 Through the sunshiny scenes where my fortunes 
 were cast ? 
 
 And, even in pleasure's own garlanded wildwood, 
 With all the dear peace it could bring me to-day, 
 
 My mind stretches back to the season of childhood, 
 When my heart was in bloom and my country was 
 
 gay- 
 
 " Not happier then were the birds in the bushes 
 
 Bright decked with bouquets b}" the fingers of 
 spring — 
 The sweet little robins, the linnets, the thrushes — 
 
 Than was the young soul of that long-ago king. 
 The lambs on the hill-sides in all their gay gambols, 
 
 The trout in the brooks, and the sheen of the sea ; 
 The fawn in the woodland, the finch in the brambles^ 
 
 Not blither, nor freer, more thoughtless, than me. 
 
 " 1 watched the' great sun, as lie rode in the tourney 
 
 Of azure-mailed day or the helmeted year ; 
 Sympathetic I mused on his measureless journey, 
 
 His conquerless sweep over darkness and fear ; 
 And, in silence, I vowed to pursue his example ; 
 
 Wherever the tide of my destiny flowed 
 To deluge the foeman, and ruthlessly trample 
 
 Th' invader, or tvrant, that darkened mv road." 
 
melcha's mission. 249 
 
 Then spoke not Turgesius, but sullenly muttered, 
 
 The blood of his pride rankling hot in his cheek, 
 *' By the gods of my country whose names now un- 
 uttered, 
 
 I call on, old grumbler, thou shalt \)e more meek. 
 The lands which thou mournest, the realms thou hast 
 cherished, 
 
 Must descend ever more unto me and to mine ; 
 Nor will I desist, until she shall have perished. 
 
 Disgraced and dishonored, the pride of thy line." 
 
 Proceeded the king, as if mournfully musing, 
 
 " Majestic, and modest, and silvery, moon, 
 I have watched thee far up in the firmament cruising, 
 
 Like a sail on the sea, in the night's silent noon ; 
 And I thought how, like thee, when my life should be 
 over, 
 
 When history's tale should be told of the brave. 
 My name, among many, should many discover 
 
 To shine down all time through the night of the 
 grave. 
 
 " But, alas ! 'tis not so. M}^ fate hath outrun me 
 And kingdomless left me, shorn bare of my power ; 
 
 The evils of life, in their might have undone me 
 And left me alone but a mendicant's hour. 
 
 The ambition, that once so divinely I treasured, 
 Now^ sleepily nestles wdthin these old bones ; 
 
250 melcha's mission. 
 
 The arcli of my life can be never re-measured, — 
 Its ruin, a mass but of cinders and stones. 
 
 " thou lamp of the heavens! in majesty rolling, 
 
 So genial, so faithful, so bright, and so grand, 
 Thou gladd'st one, indeed, thy high nature extolling 
 
 The virtues that shine in the sons of my land. 
 And thou meek-eyed, pale maiden that shin'ston my 
 palace 
 
 O'er all the bleak vales of the night's stilly waste ; — 
 The daughters of Erin, though bitter their chalice, 
 
 As bright as thou art, and as meek, and as chaste. 
 
 " Pardon, Turgesius, an old man's digression : 
 
 My mind waxes feeble, as well as my form. 
 And trebly I feel the cold blast of oppression 
 
 That tosses my heart, like a leaf, in the storm : 
 Nor does selfishness play any part in my sorrow ; 
 
 'Tis not for myself that I nourish such grief. 
 But for my kind sulyects, long destined to borrow 
 
 The slave's poor rewai'd through the fall of their 
 chief. 
 
 " Oh ! that life should be checkered by such an excres- 
 As sadness or failure, those twins of decay ; [cence 
 
 That the substance of being is but evanescence, 
 That yesterday's smile is the tear of to-day, 
 
 Had I never been cursed with the care of dominion, 
 
melcha's mission. 251 
 
 Never been perched 'bove the plain of mankind, 
 Never have worn the proud conqueror's pinion ; 
 This evil to-day could be light on my mind. 
 
 " There's an hour in our being when fortune is shining, 
 
 A place for the rainbow, a place for the cloud, 
 A cause for rejoicing, a cause for repining, 
 
 A time for the cradle, a time for the shroud, [leys,. 
 Til ere are mountains, and hills, and balm-scented val- 
 
 And far-reaching dales in their trappings of bloom, 
 Vicious volcanoes, and sin-begrimed alleys, 
 
 The dance, and the feast, and the blush, and the 
 tomb. 
 
 " The ivy dotli creep o'er the wrecks of ambition, 
 
 We anchor a throne with a sand-stranded rope. 
 We cling to a weed o'er the gulf of sedition. 
 
 And the owl hoots alone in the ruins of liope. 
 The wild foxes pla\ in tb(^ halls of that spirit 
 
 Once thrilled witli the lions of knighthood and power; 
 The moth, and the bug, and the blind bat, iidierit 
 
 The palaces built in prosperity's hour. 
 
 " We chase the rich l)utterHy ujt the rough mountain, 
 And reap the reward of ephemeral gauze ; 
 
 And fetally come, like a fawn, to the fountain 
 And feed on the grasses to find them but straws ; 
 
 We are victors to-day and to-morrow we perish. 
 
252 melcha's mission. 
 
 To-day shining gold and to-morrow but dross; 
 We hail a dim phantom we frantie'ly cherish, 
 
 But some alchemy changes the crown to the cross. 
 
 " We pierce the deep skies, like the pine of the forest, 
 
 Above the low stature of commonplace men, [sorest, 
 But the tempest doth sweej) 'gainst our l)osoms the 
 
 Till broken and splintered, we bow down again. 
 Though we soar to the stars with the wings of the eagle, 
 
 To the earth, as our home, we are doomed to return, 
 Though we rush o'er the meads with the speed of the 
 beagle, 
 
 At last we must halt at the goal of the urn. 
 
 "As a ship in the seething and turbulent ocean. 
 
 With the treasure of toil and humanity stored, 
 Engulfed in the wild billows' boiling commotion. 
 
 So fare we, at last, by adversity's sword. 
 The heart has its ills, and the soul has its fevers, 
 
 More potent than burn in its casement of clay ; 
 The serpents that hiss have their votive believers ; 
 
 The great and the lowly must finish their day. 
 
 " The temple will fall and the tall tower will tumble 
 And vacancy reign in the mist of a throne ; 
 
 The stars will decay and the universe crumble, 
 And nothing be left, save their Maker alone. 
 
 Turgesius, thou'rt young, in the flush of thy glory; 
 
melcha's mission. 253 
 
 Like the green earth abroad.in the June of thy strife ; 
 Oh ! let not the ever-monotonous story, 
 
 'He rose, but he fell,' be the book of thy life. 
 
 " I can wish thee no wrong ; and I harbor no malice ; 
 
 Thou'rt valiant, and worthy, and noble, and wise ; 
 Thou'rt mild to the fallen to sweeten their chalice, 
 
 And these are high traits I can never despise. 
 I can live out the day of my feeble existence 
 
 Till the dagger of death be transfixed in my heart ; 
 And, when, like a spirit, he appears in the distance, 
 
 I can lean on my couch and serenely depart. 
 
 " I ask thee no favor ; the boon I now treasure 
 
 Is calmly to pass from this prison of earth ; 
 For me is no more of the world and its pleasure ; 
 
 But, eternity ! come with thy w^elcomer worth. 
 Though the conqueror swoop from his home on the 
 water 
 
 His thirst of dominion in gore to assuage, 
 Dear Melcha, my patient, affectionate daughter, 
 
 Thou art all I require to embellish my age. 
 
 " I have watched thee a nurseling in infancy's weakness, 
 Have proudly indulged thee through childhood's 
 
 career, 
 Have looked with pure pride on thy maidenhood 
 
 meekness, 
 
254 melcha's mission. 
 
 And joyed in thy smile throughout many a year ; 
 And now that misfortune's wild Ijeasts have assailed me, 
 
 I rely upon tliee in my drearisome hours [}^^^, 
 
 To comfort gray childhood ; when all else hath failed 
 
 Thou wilt pluck out the nettles, and gather the 
 flowers." 
 
 • " Yes father, thy Melcha, can neyer forget thee, 
 
 Her guardian friend through so many a day ; 
 A motherless infant, thy poor Melcha met thee 
 
 Unconscious of her that was calm in tlie clay. 
 And now while I liye, I shall deem it a duty 
 
 That no human power may erase from my heart, 
 Despite the allurements of jewels or beauty, 
 
 To play the fond role of a daughter's true part. 
 
 '■ I remember thy deeds in the days when they flour- 
 ished, 
 
 When all thy high aims were but centered in mine. 
 And the fondness for me, so earnestly nourished. 
 
 Restitution demands, and shall eyer be thine. 
 Often, when sadness beclouded my vision. 
 
 Like a vapor far off in the tremulous night. 
 To leaye me in error; thy kindly decision 
 
 Removed the dark burden and set me aright. 
 
 " When sickness and sorrow ivere perched on my pillow 
 Like sentinel demons in scorpions dressed, 
 
melcha's mission. 255 
 
 Thou didst lean o'er my breast, like a l)i'eeze o'er the 
 billow, 
 
 My anchor of peace in the haven of rest : 
 And how could I leave my paternal protector 
 
 To buffet disease and misfortune alone, [tar, 
 
 Though secure through my life of joy's crystallest nec- 
 
 A palace, and peace, and a totterless throne ? 
 
 *' The aid I can give the^ is pale in complexion 
 
 Compared with tlie love I have shared in thy home ; 
 Though small is the mete of thy daughter's affection, 
 
 Thou shalt rest thee, till death, 'neath its sheltering 
 dome. 
 Thou forgott'st thy own griefs to enhance my young 
 pleasure ; 
 
 And, now that the shine of thy glory is o'er, 
 Let Melcha console thee till time and the measure 
 
 Of earth and its ills shall disturb thee no more." 
 
 *' 1 thank thee, sweet daughter ; but thou must be w^eary 
 
 For sitting in sighs in this chamber so long : 
 I would not that thou shouldst be evermore dreary ; 
 
 Go seek thy companions and join in their song. 
 Turgesius and I will discourse of the nation. 
 
 On the scenes that trans})ire on this evergreen isle ; 
 And each in a way, as beseemeth his station." 
 
 " As says my dear father. Good bye for a while." 
 
256 melcha's mission. 
 
 "Malachi, when, ere thj' years were so yellow," 
 
 Sneeriiigly queried the chivalrous Dane, 
 " Was the summer as bright or the autumn as mellow 
 
 As now they are seen in my merciful reign ? [ance ? 
 Did the fields yield such harvests of hope and abund- 
 
 Were the orchards as luscious and rich to behold ? 
 Was there ever then known such a boundless redund- 
 ance 
 
 Of plenty and peace, or of jewels and gold ? 
 
 " It is true that my laws may Ije framed with some 
 rigor 
 
 To tally with those whom my destiny rules, — 
 Obedience, and manhood, and spirit, and vigor. 
 
 The lessons they learn in the foreigner's schools. 
 And, while I inherit a conqueror's scepter. 
 
 No evil mast press its cold cheek on this land ; 
 In prosperous kelter I ever have kept her 
 
 And with the new years shall her glory expand. 
 
 " On the brink of thy life ; thou art welcome to shelter 
 
 Beneath the green boughs of security's tree : 
 In the beams of despondence thou need'st not to welter 
 
 On this wave-circled isle in thy jail of the sea. 
 Turgesius will guard thee, as wert thou his brother, 
 
 Will piece out thy comfort and solace thy grief, 
 Respectfully treat thee, designing to smother 
 
 Remembrances sad of a once victor chief. 
 
melcha's mission. 257 
 
 " Though mhie is the conquest, existing forever, 
 
 Of all the rich fields of thy former domain, [deavor 
 'Gainst my throne, like a pillar, the wild waves' en- 
 
 Of complaint and sedition, I treat with disdain. 
 I laugh at the futile and imbecile trial [their limbs ; 
 
 Of those who would shake my rough chains from 
 But from me thou shalt carry no icy denial. 
 
 Till the planet, at last, of my destiny dims." 
 
 '' I deserve not, Turgesius, such civil behavior 
 
 And did not expect it, at least, from thy hands ; 
 Nor seek I, my victor should turn into savior 
 
 Of all that is left in the wreck of my lands. 
 Nor will I look out on my fortune so blindly [mine ; 
 
 As slighting the ])oon which thou say'st may be 
 The pure consolation thou ofier'st so kindly 
 
 In me 'twere unmanly to-night to decline. 
 
 "Yet rest from the world, its rebukes, and contention, 
 
 The modest division I only require ; 
 It were weakly in me to depend on thy pension 
 
 For the notes I must wake from humility's lyre. 
 I would dwell all alone, like a pine on the mount-iin, 
 
 To muse on those follies my fancies beguiled, 
 When manhood and youth stood elate at their fountain 
 
 xlnd plucked at the bubbles that dazzle the child. 
 
 " I would bask in the rays of contented seclusion 
 Awav from mv kind and their cancerous cares : 
 
258 melcha's mission. 
 
 I am weary of life and the specious delusion 
 
 That fills its bright fields with an autumn of tares, 
 
 To retire with my child far away from tlie Ijustle 
 Of trouble, and toil, and concupiscent man, 
 
 Is all I desire ; and to shut out life's rustle, — 
 
 And to hide in the grave at the head of my clan." 
 
 " Ex-king, it afflicts me to see tliee so broken, 
 
 The fox has a forest wherethrough he may roam ; 
 The felon, a haunt where his gibes may be spoken. 
 
 Wilt thou be an exile within thy own home? 
 The hare sleeps at ease in his haw-blossomed hedges, 
 
 The doves cuddle close in the summer-day boughs, 
 The bittern is happy within its rank sedges : 
 
 Why hast thou sucli cause for thy meaningless vows ? 
 
 '' But though that thyself wilt be still melancholy, 
 
 Thou canst not, indeed, hold thy daughter to share 
 In the rigorous confines of thy austere folly, 
 
 And pine in her bloom, 'neath thy fardel of care ? 
 The young love indentures to cloudless enjoyment ; 
 
 A title to dance, and to feast, and to sing. 
 And may ever be bred to a better employment 
 
 Than liarvesting sighs in the soft days of spring. 
 
 " Thou lovest thy Melcha too well to enchain her, 
 
 Endungeoned with thee to an abbess's life, 
 When there are so many would gladly maintain her 
 
melciia's Mie^sioN. 259 
 
 111 the sacred relations of mother and wife. 
 Oh ! cliaseoff the phantom that fluttereth o'er thee, 
 
 And teach the base dream that its taunts are defied ; 
 Abohsli this gloom, like the millions before thee, 
 
 And give me thy Melcha herself as my bride ! " 
 
 " Turgesins, thou canst not, thou canst not, be earnest, 
 
 This is the acme of madness's scheme. 
 Of all my harsh fortunes this last is the sternest, 
 
 Or is it the waking of misery's dream ? 
 I mean thee but kindness wliere thou art suspicious 
 
 That evil is hatched in the soils of my heart. 
 I ask thee but mildly, and nothing malicious 
 
 Shall thy bosom disturb, or its cheerfulness smart. 
 
 " Thou wilt not go down in the gulf of my spirit 
 
 To root up such peace as might there find a berth. 
 I have never so sinneti that at last I should merit 
 
 The outlaw to rol) my sole comfort on earth. 
 ]My last refined solace thou aim'st not to plunder 
 
 From the bosom of him so ingrained in his child ; 
 I can not believe that this bolt and its thunder 
 
 Is candidly shot on a mission so wild." 
 
 " I will cover thy IVIelcha with jewels and luster. 
 For thee and for her build a castle of gold, [er, 
 
 And surround her with pleasure that brilliantly clust- 
 Till even thyself wilt l^e proud to behold. 
 
260 melcha's HUSSION. 
 
 Of her joys and her peace will I heap up to the meas- 
 And hasten to cherish her slightest desires; [ure 
 
 I shall hold her a prize and regard her a treasure, 
 More grand than my scepter, my lands, or my sireS.'^ 
 
 " Tliou must not expect me to yield thee my daughter 
 
 As a heart-broken toy for thy amorous bands ! 
 Why perished she not in tlie merciless slaughter 
 
 That buried my yeomen and deluged my lands ? " 
 " But she shall be queen of my manifold legions ; 
 
 Her fame through the world shall be spoken afar, 
 Through tliose realms I })0ssess and the unforseen re- 
 gions 
 
 That I yet shall o'er sweep with my engines of war." 
 
 " Thou canst not, Turgesius, witli canning persuade mo 
 
 To part with my child for the wealtli of the world." 
 " Then, Malachi, king ! by the spirit that made me, 
 
 Thy pride from its throne shall be ruthlessly hurled. 
 Like locusts, once swept o'er thy haughty possessions 
 
 The swords that yield only allegiance to me ; 
 And the same sullen force will compel the concessions- 
 
 Thou idly clesir'st in thy lowly degree. 
 
 " Mine will be Melcha in spite of thy madness, 
 As sure as the sun moveth on in its course : 
 
 Then yield the frail thing, with a seeming of gladness, 
 Ere death doth thyself and thy daughter divorce." 
 
MEL( iia's mission. 261 
 
 '^' If, Targesius, the fates must so sorely unbend mo, 
 Ere my child to dishonor and shame I consign, 
 
 I ask thee one gift, and its grant will defend me 
 
 When unfriended and sad must my loneliness pine" 
 
 "Thou sbalt have thy request, whatsoever the color, 
 
 Except that thy Melcha must fall to my arms, 
 For the glow of the topaz and diamond were duller 
 
 Then the sheen of her soul through her fetterless 
 charms." 
 *" Turgesius, 'tis this : Let our Melcha discover 
 
 Among her companions in pastime and youth, 
 But fifteen sweet maidens to smile on her lover, 
 
 In whom she may pride for their beauty and truth. 
 
 •" For Melcha is meek ; and 't\vould illy become her 
 
 Alone to embrace thee or share in thy sport. 
 With maids of her choice 'twill l)e rapturous summer 
 
 And frantic enjoyment for thee and thy court. 
 But, lest that the world should scoff at the story, 
 
 Let them enter thy castle through some hidden door, 
 And cover thy heart with the peace-plated glory 
 
 That nothing is known when the revel is o'er." 
 
 ''^ Thou say'st it, good father : so richly deserving 
 The gem which thou hast in the love of thy child, 
 
 At that door of my palace, no being observing. 
 When the stars of to-morrow are shiningly mild, 
 
262 meu'ha's mission. 
 
 Wliere last tliou hast stood I will meet tliy l)right 
 daughter [bring; 
 
 And the fair young companions her fancy may 
 And nothing shall lack of the land or the water 
 
 That graces the taste in the feast of a king. 
 
 "Brave ex-lord of Erin, good niglit for the ])resent : 
 
 The chariot of morning is drawing full nigh." 
 "Turgesius, goo:I night. We may meet when the 
 crescent 
 
 Will sometimes le dim in the vault of the sky." 
 From Malachi's castle the invader departed, 
 
 His bosom filled full of imagining's themes, 
 And retirees to his couch, in his deeds happy-hearted, 
 
 T' enjoy the fruition of vanity's dreams. 
 
 " Is it thou, my di-ar Mclcha, thy tired father seeking, 
 
 Wlio come-; to his chamljer at tliis lonely hour? 
 My brain is bedizened, and wildered, and reeking 
 
 Witii thoughts that the strength ot my heart over- 
 })Ower. 
 The tyrant, Turgesius, that tiend of oppression, 
 
 Hath set his foul heart, like a leech, upon thee; 
 And he swears thou shalt be his own rightful pos- 
 ession." 
 
 " Even so, my dear father, he hinted to me." 
 
 "And let it be, Melcha, as he would desire it ; 
 
 1 would humor once more at thy own j)riceless cost 
 
melcha's mission. 263 
 
 This beast of the iiortli, since the fates so require it, 
 To restore the l)right phimage of hberty lost." 
 
 " Thou knowest, my sire, I will do as thou deeniest 
 To be for thy daughter the worthier part. 
 
 If I can assist that his friend thou still seemest, 
 Oh! spare not the pangs of a sacrificed heart." 
 
 " True comrades fifteen I will choose to attend thee, 
 
 On whose loyal escort thou well niayst rely. 
 With these to his revels this eve must thou wend thee, 
 
 So soon as the sun lias abandoned the sky. 
 My spirit will swoon at this cruel descending, 
 
 But we may not wage Avar 'gainst the fiats of fate." 
 " I will do as thou bidd'st me, whatever the ending. 
 
 And, as soon as the star-light, will knock at his gate." 
 
 The day hath o'erpassed and the eve-star is glowing; 
 
 There is one unit more in eternity scored : 
 The banquet is high and the wine cup is flowing 
 
 Among the gay clnefs of Turgesius's board ; 
 And fifteen brave lords of his clans are invited 
 
 To partake of the feast their proud master contrived, 
 Each with the prospect supremely delighted 
 
 T' enjoy his sweet maid tliat will soon have arrived. 
 
 " 'Tis time they were come for the evening is waning. 
 
 And I grow impatient," Turgesius said ; [maining 
 
 " There will scarce be enough of the dark hours re- 
 
264 melcha's mission. 
 
 T' indulge the wild whims, of this holiday bred. 
 List, my companions ! Heard ye that drumming, 
 
 Like the patter of rain, on the outermost door? 
 By the honor of knighthood the virgins are coming ! 
 
 I will fly down to meet them with welcomes galore. 
 
 " Sweet Melcha, good-morrow. I knew thou wouldst 
 please me ; 
 
 Th3^self and these fair ones are welcome to night. 
 May the ills of all evil immortally seize me 
 
 If aught shall be lacking that kindles delight. 
 But come to the hall where tiie banquet is royal, 
 
 Where the chiefs of my kingdom and potency wait, 
 Gallant, and noljle, and princely, and loyal, [mate. 
 
 And where each of these ladies may choose her a 
 
 " Lo here the l)old heroes ! Kise, captains of danger, 
 
 To honor this princess of Malachi's isle [stranger, 
 Nor appear these meek maidens more distant, or 
 
 That never before have you basked in their smile. 
 Sit down, merry Melcha, in calm self-possession ; 
 
 Partake of this banquet for thee and for thine : 
 Let joy have no limit, nor mirth retrogression 
 
 And spare not the sparkling bright goblets of wine. 
 
 " The wealth of the world were miserly slender [land, 
 To bless thee, sweet nymph of this sea-cinctured 
 And naught is too costly and nothing too tender 
 
melcha's :\iission. 2G5 
 
 That pleasure may give to thyself and thy band." 
 *' Brave chief of these chieftains, too richly and kindly 
 
 Thou greet'st the i)Oor bridesmaids who gather with 
 Oh ! let not affection betray thee too blindly [me. 
 
 To gild o'er a creature unworthy of thee." 
 
 ^' Thou'rt brilliant, sweet girl, as the sunshine in heaven, 
 
 And as warm as the glow of Promethean fire ; 
 But 'tis meet that our banquet with passion we leaven ; 
 
 And is it not time that we all might retire?" 
 *'I think so," said Melcha. Then rashly advances 
 
 Each hero, selecting a dame to depart, — 
 But mark the dark issue of pleasure's mischances, — 
 
 That instant each chief is impaled to the heart. 
 
 Those maids that with Melcha came here in seclusion, 
 
 The stalwartest knights that her country could 
 bring, 
 Arrayed in her toilets of richest profusion ; 
 
 The beardless athletes of a kingdomless king. 
 Like a wolf from the jungle, the northern invader 
 
 A captive is led from his mansion of pride : 
 King Malachi welcomes the savage crusader 
 
 And th' heroic child that is safe at his side. 
 
 The dark night is passed and the morning is dawning, 
 And the wide world smiles 'neath Apollo's kind glow ; 
 
266 melcha's mission. 
 
 The mast-head is high, and the blue waters yawning 
 In passionless silence are playing below. 
 
 Turgesius, farewell to thy life and its story ; 
 
 Thy triumphs and conquests are evermore passed ; 
 
 And, a moment still dreaming of passionless glory, 
 He is flung, like a beast, from the crown of the mast. 
 
 Jlis blood-thirsty hordes have a leader no longer, 
 
 Like insects they flee to their boats from tlie strand. 
 Now, monarch once more of thy kingdom, all stronger,. 
 
 Hail, Malachi, king of the emerald land. 
 And Melcha hath wrought, by a weapon of beauty 
 
 With virt'ue alone as her adamant sliield. 
 What thousands on thousands in soldierly duty 
 
 Hath perished in vain to achieve on the field. 
 
 Erin, green island ! Forever remember 
 
 The deeds of thy sons in the days that are gone. 
 Thy memory. May ; let no sullen December [won . 
 
 E'er rol) thy proud names of the robes they have 
 Time will be keen with thy bards and thy sages 
 
 And much be denied that thy children recjuire, 
 But wreathe through the vista of forthcoming ages 
 
 Green garlands for INIeleha, her maids, and her sire. 
 
INTEMPERANCE. 
 
 I 
 
 Intemperance! Thou art my theme,. 
 And while thy treacherous, fitful gleam 
 Shall light me through thy cavern cage, 
 And lead me on from stage to stage. 
 My heart will sigh, my brain implore. 
 That the unsavory task were o'er. 
 
 I look upon thy boundless sea 
 And all the world so gulfed in thee, 
 On struggling millions now afloat 
 O'er all thy waves so far remote, 
 That scarcely can I comprehend 
 My dark beginning or dim end. 
 Where far around the tempests blow 
 And hideous specters come and go, 
 AVhere rocks on rocks are ghastly piled, 
 
268 IXTEMl'KKANC'K. 
 
 AVhere days are fierce and niglits are wild, 
 
 But illy can my soul conceive 
 
 What most to shun, or l)est to sheave ; 
 
 While lightnings fall and cloud-wreaths hurst, 
 
 Where 'tis most meet to anchor first. 
 
 Intemperance, thou dragon vile I 
 Inveigling with thy painted smile, 
 From mankind's moonless flow and ehb, 
 New victims to thy deadly web ; 
 Thou hungry harpy, fierce, uidvind, 
 That steal'st the last cruml) from the blind. 
 E'en as we read in Grecian lore. 
 Thy namesake did in days of yore. 
 When from Phineus gaunt and gray. 
 She plucked the meager meal away ; 
 Thou snake-tressed gorgon, grim, alone, 
 Transforming hearts to sapless stone, 
 That once were tender, soft, and meek, 
 As is the rose on lady's cheek. 
 Thy brow, with hideous vipers curled, 
 Doth scowd upon a peaceful world. 
 
 Because thy vision cannot plan 
 New^ sorrows for the tribes of man. 
 Because thou canst not add one more 
 To those already gone before, 
 One single drop to the dead sea 
 
INTEMPERANCE. 269 
 
 Of reeking human misery, 
 Corruption's frowzy tide to swell, 
 One victim more to guide to hell, 
 Because thou canst not chill the cheer, 
 Because thou canst not heap the bier 
 A mountain more nor add one birth 
 Of torture to the groaning earth. 
 Because thou canst devise no art 
 More Ijlack to pinch the human heart 
 More sort^ly than thy reign hath done 
 In every zone beneath the sun, 
 Thou rankest scourge of human kind. 
 Thou seem'st at last despair-inclined ; 
 Protrud'st thy sting at Adam^s race, 
 And chafest in thy halting place. 
 
 Like to the leaves upon the trees. 
 Uncounted, are thy devotees. 
 And numberless as summer flowers 
 The victims of thy witchcraft powers, 
 Where'er one goes o'er all the lands 
 Behold recruits for thy dark bands. 
 The old, the young, the spruce, the gay. 
 The honored being of to-day. 
 The bright-robed worshipers of truth, 
 The prize of strength, the hope of youth. 
 The witching wound of cupid's dart, 
 The cultured nnnd, the gentle heart, 
 
270 INTEMPERANCE. 
 
 The wise man's haunt, the gentle bard, 
 The surpHced servant of the Lord, 
 The white-haired sigh, the infant breath. 
 The helpless agony of death, 
 The speaking eye that knows no guile, 
 And maiden's grace, and woman's smile, 
 Are blighted in thy evil glance 
 And ])oisoned Ijreath, Intemperance. 
 
 Thou stalkest through the crowded town. 
 
 The lonely heath, the heather brown, 
 
 The peasant's home, the castle's walls, 
 
 The pauper's' liut, the lordly halls. [courts, 
 
 Through schools, and temples, and through 
 
 With equal zeal thy form disports. 
 
 O'er prairie vast or valley low. 
 
 In summer's sun or winter's snow, 
 
 On mountain high, or modest dell, 
 
 Thou weavest still thy deadly spell. 
 
 Above the ocean's angry roar, 
 
 And on the sea and on the shore, 
 
 Through clustered forests and through bowers, 
 
 The blossoms, or the April showers, 
 
 The poor man's walks, the seats of wealth, 
 
 The haunts of competence and health ; 
 
 Go where we may, or where we will, 
 
 Behold thy l)lighting presence still. 
 
INTEMPERANCE. - 271 
 
 II 
 
 'Tis wintry night. Fold close the door. 
 
 The mountain rihs of earth are sore, 
 
 And nature hides her ghastly head 
 
 In those white sheets her nymphs have spread. 
 
 There is to-night a hollow tongue 
 
 In the bleak jaws of nature hung : 
 
 And, hark ! the echoes that are cast 
 
 O'er all lier temples wide and vast. 
 
 Oh, what a shrill divine! How loud 
 
 He preaches from his pulpit cloud ; 
 
 Of terror forged for those below, 
 
 How deep and darkling is the flow. 
 
 It numbs the souls and chains the sense 
 
 To hear this awful eloquence. 
 
 Along the sky some panther prowls. 
 
 Hear how he chafes, and how tie howls ; 
 
 Some hoarse-lunged warbler of the air 
 
 Is coining notes that mock despair ; 
 
 The very wind that fills his bill 
 
 Doth make the seal of Greenland chill. 
 
 Ah ! truly, 'tis a savage night. 
 Wild winter stalks abroad in fright. 
 He throws his heels at such a heat 
 His rider scarce can keep his seat ; 
 
272 IXTKMPKHAXOE. 
 
 He asks no cairb where he may roam ; 
 
 His nostrils whiten witli tlieir foam, 
 
 And fling full far o'er tower and town 
 
 A fleecy inundation down. 
 
 Home lavish hand commands the key 
 
 That locks thy store, immensity. 
 
 The snow outvies that lofty flower 
 
 Which grows an age and blooms an hour. 
 
 Indeed, I deem the mad buffoon 
 
 Is tirmly bent to hedge the moon ; 
 
 And when the new to-morrow comes, 
 
 When this loud night hatli stilled its drums. 
 
 When sullen Phoebus sternly pleads 
 
 His charioteer to yoke liis steeds, 
 
 The diamond slaves that prance for him — 
 
 Though deep of lung and lithe of limb — 
 
 Despite their pride and strength, I trow, 
 
 Must founder in those piles of snow. 
 
 'Twill cover ere Aurora rise 
 
 The starry pines that prop tlie skies, 
 
 As one by one to midnight creep 
 
 The silent hours of ])hantom sleep. 
 
 (3'er all the frosty fields a])Out 
 
 The flaky waste is widening out, 
 
 Foreshortening by some degrees 
 
 The stature of the giant trees, 
 
 And every moment swells the store 
 
 A fraction richer than before. 
 
INTEMPERANCE. 273 
 
 Here at the mercies of this storm 
 
 Lies locked in death a luiman form. 
 
 These drifting snows have filled his eyes 
 
 And from his brow shut out the skies. 
 
 There are no friends, no kindred, near, 
 
 To fold his hands or drop one tear 
 
 For him whose souls they do not know 
 
 Went out with life beneath tlie snow. 
 
 No hand was there to bathe tlie Ijrow, 
 
 So rigid, and so glossy, now. 
 
 When death transfixed that heart once warm, 
 
 He had no comrade, save the storm. 
 
 Why by the side of yon cold stone 
 
 In life's proud prime sleeps he alone ? 
 
 Against the elemental fight, 
 
 All homes are closed, all fires are bright ; 
 
 E'en the wild wolves by cave and creek 
 
 This bitter night a shelter seek. 
 
 Poor, lost, dead, thing ! Thy hour is o'er ; 
 
 Thy blood shall course thy veins no more. 
 
 Thou mad'st to-day too free with wine. 
 
 And leav'st thy life at Bacchus' shrine. 
 
 All wildly didst thou riot, revel. 
 
 And dauce and banquet with the devil, 
 
 AVho lead thee wide from paths of good 
 
 And tluis repaid thy hardihood. 
 
 Not far from where thy cold corpse lies 
 
 Peer through the storm two tear-dimmed eyes, 
 
274 INTEMl'EKAXCE. 
 
 Wide o'er the wild and snowy lea, 
 
 That never more shall welcome thee. 
 
 The fragrant meal is long prepared 
 
 Thou hadst with her so often shared. 
 
 A blazing fire is on the grate. 
 
 Wh}^ dost delay ? 'Tis getting late. 
 
 There in her glad, angelic way 
 
 Thy little child is still at play. 
 
 And wond'ring what should papa keep, 
 
 The night so cold, the snow so deep. 
 
 Poor innocent! Her life shall miss 
 
 Forever more a father's kiss. 
 
 Thy child an orphan, and thy wife 
 
 A wreck upon the reefs of life, 
 
 Tliou sleepest, heedless of tlieir woe, 
 
 And tearless, in thy banks of snow. 
 
 Thou hadst a fireside warm and gay 
 
 Where thou couldst read and thou couldst pray 
 
 How truly ])lest would be mankind 
 
 If all, like thine, a home could find ; 
 
 Each daughter, wife, and friend, and sire, 
 
 Watch such a night by such a fire, 
 
 •While some weird spirit smiled to tell 
 
 That all we loved should fare as \\'ell. 
 
 Alas, alas ! tliere needs must fall 
 In all sweet cups some drops of gall. 
 How mauv at this moment feel 
 
INTEMPERANCE. 275 
 
 The keen cuts of the northern steel ; 
 
 How many may be suffering 
 
 From waspy winter's pinching sting ; 
 
 How many 'gainst this arrowy air 
 
 Put on the breastplate of despair ; 
 
 For many, oh, how bitter 1)ite 
 
 The icy teeth of this cold nigiit ; 
 
 To peck at his relentless claws 
 
 How many doves have mortal cause ; 
 
 How many locked in leaky holds 
 
 Are writhing in his frozen folds. 
 
 Perchance that at this very hour 
 
 Some roofless wretch must brave its power, 
 
 While on his panting bosom go 
 
 The drifting surges of the snow. 
 
 Without one smiling star to guide 
 
 His voyage o'er the seething tide, 
 
 Or with new flame to re-invest 
 
 The cindered hopes within his breast. 
 
 Thou hadst a home and thou hadst wealth, 
 
 And thou hadst competence of health, 
 
 And ttiou hadst dear ones nursed in glee 
 
 That many a teir will shed for thee. 
 
 Thou couldst not one poor weakness shun ; — : 
 
 Thy soul is lost, thy life undone. 
 
 HI. 
 
 Another vision dotli a])pear. 
 
 'Tis the l>right summer o' the vear. 
 
27() IXTKMPKUANCE. 
 
 O'er hill, and dale, and prairie, rolled, 
 The harvests spread their billowy gold. 
 The fertile sun is drowned in light. 
 The day is glad, the world is bright ; 
 Above the brook and by the spring 
 The happy ])irds thanksgiving sing ; 
 The great Creator smiles to-day 
 And all the world is blest and gay. 
 The fishes in the shady streams 
 Are silent, full of peaceful dreams ; 
 The fair flowers from the fragrant sod 
 A\^ake their pure souls to worship God. 
 O'er yonder bower-emblossomed vale 
 The perfumes rise, and blows the gale, 
 And through the groves the whole day long 
 Kare warblers tune a various song. 
 A courtly mansion rears on high 
 Its turrets to the bright blue sky. 
 Why there, beneath this azure dome, 
 Should care descend to seek a home? 
 
 His is a powerful, skillful hand, 
 • That shapes the atoms of the sand ; — 
 A tender nurse that rocks to sleep 
 The wood-worm in its maple keep, 
 That leads across the hollow hill 
 His starry troops to midnight drill. 
 That doth to each sucli luuture deal 
 
INTEMPEKAXCK. 271 
 
 As best becomes the suppliant's meal. 
 He molds the seas and builds the air 
 And gives to earth her dower of care, — 
 A pale, unwelcome, treacherous, guest, 
 Beneath our eves to build its nest. 
 
 To kindlier spirits, 'tis too true. 
 
 Too often do we weep adieu. 
 
 But all the hosts that spring to Ijirth 
 
 To tread the castle of the earth, 
 
 And all the pirate fleets of crime 
 
 Have sea room in the docks of time. 
 
 The idle snail must have his shell, 
 
 Tarantula his webb}^ cell, 
 
 The minnows swim, as well as he, 
 
 The fishy mountain of the sea. 
 
 The vagrant flea in iiature hid. 
 
 As Asia's tusky pyramid, 
 
 Or he whose Himalayan zones 
 
 Encumber earth with fossil l)ones. 
 
 All nature is composed of wheels 
 Revolving in their several creels. 
 To-day, behold ! one side goes up 
 And kisses pleasure's gilded cup ; 
 To-morrow from the firmament 
 It cuts a swift, compelled descent. 
 And Imthes it, like a pale recluse, 
 
278 INTian'KKANCE. 
 
 Ill bk'uk seclusion's Avonnwood juice. 
 But, see! it moves, and moves, and moves, 
 Along the everlasting grooves, 
 And he who climbs with patience meet 
 And keeps his i)lace on duty's seat, 
 Who shuns with zeal sin's sandy bars 
 And turns his l)ow-sprit to the stars. 
 One day at last his wheel may fix 
 Where grief with joy can never mix. 
 
 To-day the noontide lamp was l)right, 
 But 'twill not burn the oil of night. 
 The lizard crawls in that same .shade 
 Where India's chaste gazelles have played, 
 And that same beam our lives must beg 
 Doth hatch the serpent's gilded egg. 
 Beneath our roofs come now and then 
 Guests that we welcome not again ; 
 But, good or ill, 'tis nearly one 
 When those we love or })rize are gone. 
 Oh, would the Heavens might kindly spare 
 Some power to blunt the fangs of care ! 
 
 Yon dwelling seems the haunt of love. 
 The day is calm, around, above. 
 'Mid such a glorious scene as this. 
 Its halls must needs be steeped in bliss. 
 But wbv, when all is sun and shine, 
 
INTEMPERANCE. 279 
 
 Should pencil draw a darkened line ? 
 And in the valley's verdant dress 
 Those walls, so framed for happiness, 
 Where health and peace were meant to reign, 
 Should terror hold supreme domain? 
 
 Here on a couch of misery flung 
 Is stretched a form, superb and young. 
 And joyousness, refinement, grace. 
 Were pictured once in that fair face. 
 Designed a pattern and a guide, 
 Here was a man long since the pride 
 Of all 'mong whom his lot was cast. 
 Equaled by few, by none surpassed. 
 Possessor of a master's mind, 
 Respected, honored, and refined, 
 A noble soul, a generous heart, 
 He might have played a lofty part ; 
 Fit in his country's congress halls. 
 Or where the voice of honor calls. 
 In whatsoe'er demands a man, 
 To be the first among the van. 
 
 Now, in his frenzied agonies, 
 He does not know the friends he sees. 
 Grim fiends are hewing off his head, 
 And crawling reptiles swarm his bed. 
 The fulsome creatures scream and weep 
 
280 IXTKMrKHANCE. 
 
 And will not let their victim sleep. 
 
 Beyond, around, above, below, 
 
 Tlie writhing spectres come and go. 
 
 One hideous viper whets his dart 
 
 And coils itself in his numb heart ; 
 
 And slimy snakes fall from the skies 
 
 To fix themselves in his wild eyes. 
 
 His frame is full of aches and goads. 
 
 Ferocious beasts and dismal toads 
 
 Whose names and shapes no pen can paint, 
 
 His lieartstrings tear, his brain attaint. 
 
 Racked by a hundred thousand fears, 
 
 He feels cold lizards in his ears. 
 
 Unbidden forms that spurn control 
 
 Rend out the roots of his mad soul. 
 
 Fierce carnival they hold, and high 
 
 Poor sufferer ! Canst thou not die ? 
 
 E'en hell itself must be a cure 
 
 Against the ills thy nerves endure. 
 
 What sprite hath sown this fearful storm 
 Witliin the frame of this young form? 
 What Ijlackened life in its Ijright hour? 
 What rent the beauty from this flower ? 
 Wherefore this pestilential breath, 
 This war with fiends, this maniac death ? 
 Intemperance ! Thou add'st one more 
 To thy already frightful score. 
 
INTEMPERANCE. 281 
 
 He sought in pride thy banquet hall, 
 
 And thou bequeath 'st the piteous pall. 
 
 Robed in the garbs of smiles and truth, 
 
 Thou played'st the siren with his youth. 
 
 Mistrustless of thy subtle charms, 
 
 He clasped thee in his stalwart arms. 
 
 Thou found'st in him no common guest, 
 
 For he was noble, gifted, blest ; 
 
 And he had friends j^diose ecstasy 
 
 He long might share, except for thee. 
 
 His mind a ruin, and his heart 
 
 The seat of torture's direst art. 
 
 Thou saw'st thy net work 'round him spread, 
 
 And leav'st the fallen drunkard dead. 
 
 IV 
 
 A lowlier scene looms in the view. 
 
 The magnet's point is not more true. 
 
 Here, in a little group of trees, 
 
 And swept by midnight's freshening breeze. 
 
 Midst flowers tricked out by fairy hands 
 
 In night's still hours, a cottage stands. 
 
 Of all the world there is one place 
 Most welcome still to our frail race. 
 The wand'rer wheresoe'er he goes. 
 Through Libyan sands or desert snows, 
 In crowded town where millions teem, 
 
282 INTEMPERANCE. 
 
 By crashing wave or sootlii]ig stream, 
 Where prowling beasts an<l birds distress 
 The night-enshrouded wilderness, 
 Or where tlie ship rides silently 
 The foam-erowned billows of the sea — 
 • Where'er he roams from zone to zone, 
 O'er fertile clime or ocean lone, 
 On desert bleak or peopled hill, 
 There is one thought that haunts him still. 
 Go where he may 'neath Heaven's blue dome, 
 His heart aspires to seek a home. 
 
 Sweet home ! thou holy, calm retreat, — 
 No wonder bards have called thee sweet! 
 Safe, sacred, refuge from harsh cares — 
 And each new day its burden bears — 
 Seraphic jwiradise of earth. 
 Thou seat of comfort, peace, and mirth^ 
 Where love is queen, and man is free 
 From toil and care, we welcome thee I 
 Thou mind'st me of that happier sphere 
 Where man forgets his miseries here ; 
 That harbor deep, that golden shore, 
 Where grief and ill can come no more. 
 'Tis here the precious circle draws 
 For their own rules their own fond laws ; 
 Here, round the hearth of comfort c&rled, 
 They build and mold a guileless world. 
 
intp:mpekance. 28;-3 
 
 The fret of toil, the taunt, the tear, 
 
 Find but a brief admission here. 
 
 Outside, earth's ills may loudly call ; 
 
 Here is a shield that foils them all. 
 
 Thou who rulest every land, 
 
 And all the spheres Thy power hath planned, 
 
 Give me a home by wold or wave ! 
 
 'Tis all I ask this side the grave. 
 
 Such is the scene the spirit sees 
 
 Nestled among these cozy trees ; 
 
 Nor wanton thought, nor guilt, nor fear. 
 
 Has hardihood to enter here. 
 
 Its hearth is blazing, and its light 
 
 Gleams brightly out this starry night. 
 
 Come, reader, string contentment's lyre 
 
 And circle close this friendly fire. 
 
 What glowing hues, Avhat lines of grace. 
 
 Are chiseled in his living face ; 
 
 How strong he writhes, how hard he toils, 
 
 How deep he links his liquid coils. 
 
 Strains every nerve that serves him best, 
 
 Works the red engines of his breast — 
 
 Nay, to protect the prize he grooms, 
 
 His very soul itself consumes. 
 
 The words his flaming tongue would speak 
 
 Are stamped upon his burning cheek ; 
 
 And what a broad uncanceled vow 
 
284 INTEMPERANCE. 
 
 Is written on Ids yellow brow ! 
 Warder and watch of this small group, 
 Three happy fowl in this snug coop, 
 Our tested sword and trusty shield 
 On more than one frost-soldiered field. 
 
 Within this home, beside this fire, 
 Are seated wife, and child, and sire. 
 Perhaps with hushed, complacent look. 
 He delves in some instructive book ; 
 Or they, perchance, on him prevail 
 To interweave a nimble tale. 
 The fumes of idleness are strong, 
 The hour is dull, the evening long. 
 It can be no rebellious plot 
 At mirth to fire one random shot. 
 To seek one shell along the shore 
 Where all the world glean less or more, 
 To plant one seed that shall grow green 
 Through many a long-succeeding scene. 
 And fish for pleasure, though he float 
 In frail romance's rosy boat. 
 To swell the bliss he kindly sees, 
 On swarm his fancy's clustering bees. 
 Each in its own peculiar soil 
 And simple dress, or gaudy foil. 
 Through all the vast profound of air 
 Are blossoms smiling here and there ; 
 
INTEMPERANCE. 285 
 
 Those winged toilers wand'ring far 
 From stalk to stalk and star to star 
 May bring from them some silver foam 
 That shall be sweet in thine own home. 
 
 To chloroform the imps of strife, 
 
 To squander thus one dime of life, 
 
 With fable's aquafortis power 
 
 To gnaw away a tedious hour, 
 
 To have one swing at fiction's bell, 
 
 One measure from her phantom well, 
 
 To quell the visionary fight 
 
 Of goblins in the caves of night, — 
 
 In themes like these we haste to bask 
 
 In the broad sunshine of thy task ; 
 
 And, though thy power may not entrance, 
 
 The hill to skip or mountain dance, 
 
 Yet hit one stroke on fancy's nail. 
 
 Let story hoist one specious sail. 
 
 Along the spokes thy fingers steal 
 
 Of spruce invention's spinning-wheel. 
 
 The theme to which thou bend'st thy voice, 
 
 We mutely leave to thine own choice. 
 
 Be't warrior on the purple field, 
 
 The scourge of vice or virtue's shield. 
 
 Ambition's daring leap at fame — 
 
 That rushy bulwark of a name — 
 
 Or, better still, thou deign'st to tell 
 
286 INTEMPERANCE. 
 
 Of one who loved a lady well, 
 
 To weave one braid of silken words 
 
 That ma}^ become thy parlor birds ; 
 
 To censure is no part of ours ; 
 
 Thine own will land thy humble powers. 
 
 No raven wing shall fold above 
 
 The syllables of him they love, 
 
 In beady order deftly hung 
 
 And dripping from a mossy tongue : 
 
 And in thy household's sparkling rays, 
 
 Thy heart will hear thy loved one's praise 
 
 In simple drafts of home and love. 
 
 That lift the soul to realms above. 
 
 Alas ! True goodness can but rue 
 That such a scene should i)ass from view. 
 In this neat home that seems so blest 
 Truth must portray another guest. 
 Here through the lattice, like a thief, 
 Peeps in the wolfish face of grief. 
 Whose spirit tells an ancient theme 
 And melts, like hope, our silver dream. 
 
 Now, I perceive, I am below ; 
 Such sparks fly but from flints of woe. 
 No newt like this had ever birth, 
 Except in some green swamp of earth ; 
 Such foggy lines are only seen 
 
INTEMPERANCE. 287 
 
 Where clouds or planets, planets screen. 
 Grief is a weed doth only fare 
 On this sphered island of the air, 
 A grating note that will not ring, 
 Except on earth's discordant string ; 
 It is a bug doth ever crawl, 
 As, one by one, life's leaflets fall, 
 A prisoned beast whose rage maintains 
 His tugs and teeth at patience' chains, 
 A four winged fool that still would pass 
 Opposing walls of treach'rous glass. 
 Too light, dark stranger, dost thou scan 
 Tlie aching breasts of troubled man, 
 Though thou must needs, alas, confess 
 The geysers lodged in their distress, 
 And, towering in the misty air, 
 The rocky Alps their shoulders bear. 
 May He who all tlieir miseries knows 
 And metes to each his ounce of woes, 
 Allay the nipping viper smarts 
 And weed the thistles from our hearts ! 
 Why should the shining coin of joy 
 Be tempered with such base alloy? 
 
 Oh, that the bird of such a flight 
 Should build its nest in eaves so bright ! 
 This quiet home thou hast not passed, 
 But smit'st it with a bitter blast. 
 
288 INTEMPERANCE. 
 
 At yonder pane, see that sweet face, 
 
 So full of love and artless grace, 
 
 So void of folly and pretense, 
 
 The painting pure of innocence ! 
 
 What lurking sorrow ventures now 
 
 To make his march across her brow ? 
 
 What mortal fantasy doth seek 
 
 A haven in her silken cheek? 
 
 What pris'ner in his caged unrest 
 
 Doth skip around her harassed breast? 
 
 What bubbling dreams doth darkly roll 
 
 Along the surface of her soul ? 
 
 What moody thought doth sadly lie 
 
 In the soft sofa of her eye? 
 
 Let all draw near tliis spirit true, 
 
 Who would obtain a closer view. 
 
 The seat of so much tender grace 
 
 Must surely be a sainted place. 
 
 But hark ! I hear at every sob 
 
 Her pure, responsive bosom throb. 
 
 That beauteous mould, for bliss designed, 
 
 Should bear a bright, unburdened mind. 
 
 That form, so delicate and fair, 
 
 Was never meant for tears and care. 
 
 In the parterres that Morpheus keeps 
 Unconsciously her infant sleeps. 
 Now silence sits on his dark throne. 
 
INTEMPERANCE. 289 
 
 The birds to their still nests have flown ; 
 In their hushed liives the weary bees 
 Repose beneath the rustling trees ; 
 The moon is breathless, and on high 
 The stars wink in the silent sky. 
 No sound of man, or beast, or bird, 
 Save night's lone sentinel is heard. 
 The world is steeped in slumber deep. 
 Why wak'st thou, lady, now to weep ? 
 When all the earth lie down and close 
 The volume of their varied woes. 
 When stillness rules the restless sea. 
 What is the grief that burdens thee ? 
 
 Intemperance ! We sadly trace 
 
 Thy handiwork to this sweet place ; 
 
 For not a spot so blest or rare 
 
 But thou canst wreak destruction there. 
 
 List ! Through the far-ascending air, 
 
 The murmuring of her anxious prayer. 
 
 " O Thou ! Wlio in Thy glory dressed 
 
 Dost deign to give the weary rest ; 
 
 Who in Thy majesty divine, 
 
 Command'st yon moon and stars to shine ; 
 
 Who didst unroll the Milky Way, 
 
 Dost light the night and quench the day 
 
 With grand inimitable art. 
 
 And didst attune the human heart 
 
290 INTEMPERANCE. 
 
 To liappiness ; I ask of Thee, 
 Be gracious to my child and me ! 
 And, oh ! I pray Thee to look down 
 With mercy, not with hopeless frown, 
 On my dear spouse and guide his ways 
 To his bright paths of yonnger days ; 
 For Thou dost know, benignant Lord, 
 Ere dissipation's hand hath marred 
 His generous heart, that one more kind, 
 Devoted, tender, none could find. 
 Reclaim him. Lord, from evil ties. 
 From tJiat whence all his errors rise ! 
 Avert the drunkard's destiny 
 And bring him bax;k to Thee and me. "' 
 
 But where this stilly night so late 
 Does he, for whom she watches, wait? 
 Here in the slums of the dim town. 
 The same calm moon looks keenly down 
 That glances on the sorrowing gnome. 
 The lone, pure guardian of thy home ; 
 And here, 'mongst thy besotted friends, 
 Where shame begins and honor ends, 
 Where strife, and blasphemy, and crime, 
 Doth mock the preciousness of time. 
 And where the oft-returning bowl 
 Bedaubs with death a priceless' soul ; 
 Where unseen demons in their glee 
 
INTEMPKKAXCK. 291 
 
 Rejoice to see tliy revelry, 
 Where victims buy and liarpies sell 
 The reeking heritage of hell ; — 
 Here in this kraal dost thou delight 
 To pass the lone, long hours of night. 
 No thought of thy sweet infant child, 
 So l)eauteous and so unbeguiled,- — 
 'Tis well it cannot feel the prong- 
 That yet shall sting, its father's wrong ; 
 That, in its angel innocence. 
 It does not know thy high offence ; — 
 No thought of her whose eyes o'erfiow 
 For thee with tears of poignant woe, 
 Who left a home of peace and ease, 
 And full of holy memories, 
 To cast herself and all her charms 
 An offering in thy eager arms ; 
 Who bravely faced life's stormy sea 
 And left the world to be with thee. 
 Was this her hope in thy gay prime. 
 In the tranced days of olden time, 
 When thy young form to her did seem 
 Fulfillment of her brightest dream, 
 When 'mong the millions of mankind. 
 None other could love's blindness find — 
 Though many sought of proud degree 
 And manly heart — to equal thee ? 
 Was this thy promise in glad hours 
 
292 intp:mperance. 
 
 In lonely walks among the flowers, 
 Beneath the sunset's crimson gleam, 
 Or by the fragrance-margined stream, 
 When e'en a zephyr could not stir, 
 Thou didst not deem too rude for her? 
 Was this thy promise when in pride 
 Thou stood'st beside thy virgin bride 
 iVnd led'st her glad and beautified 
 An angel to the altar side ? 
 
 Oh, shame upon thy fettered wings ! 
 Thy heart was made for better things. 
 Shake off the shackles of thy life, 
 Bring pleasure back to thy fond wife ; 
 Paint bright again her brow ; imyjart 
 New happiness to her pure heart. 
 Forever close thy orgies wild, 
 Return to home, to wife, to child ; 
 ({uard as through life they weary plod 
 Then give the precious gems to ( iod. 
 
 V. 
 
 Again the scene is shifted. Spring 
 Doth hover on a balmy wing. 
 It is a mild, emblossomed day ; 
 The happy world is clad with May. 
 In all thy ornaments portrayed. 
 Thou painting of a passing shade, 
 
INTEMPERANCE. "iDo 
 
 What grace and grandeur now doth shine 
 
 On every surging blush of thine ! 
 
 Circassian daughter of the skies 
 
 Smile on our globe with all thine eyes! 
 
 Sweet May ! thou child of trancing charms, 
 
 Rocked in the ocean's silver arms 
 
 And clinging in tliy guileless mirth 
 
 Around the neck of this fair earth ! 
 
 Oh, would thou couldst be always young, 
 
 And sucking with thy sunny tongue 
 
 In playful wile and wanton zest 
 
 The flowery milk from her green breast ! 
 
 Of all thy mates thou art the prime 
 
 That prop the twelve-piered bridge of time. 
 
 Fifth of the twelve, thou amber tear 
 
 Set in the necklace of the year, 
 
 The heart beyond its playground skips 
 
 And seats itself upon the lips, 
 
 We so rejoice to see thy arch 
 
 And step by step to count thy march : 
 
 The gaudy world and the wide sea. 
 
 Are filled with tongues to worship thee. 
 
 See yon strong oak in weird repose 
 That broad in air his branches throws — 
 Leaf-mantled monarch crowned the pride 
 Of all his kingdom, wild and wide — 
 O'er his tall empire's jungly vast 
 
294 INTKM.rEKANCE. 
 
 Around the globe his glances cast, 
 And from his green, imperial seat 
 Look lordly down on his retreat. 
 With all the powers of might and mind, 
 By all the ties her thoughts can wind, 
 Imploring with extended hands. 
 Outside his jjorch a sunbeam stands. 
 But all thy magic art must fail ; 
 No .sad appealing may prevail. 
 No prayer of thine that warder win 
 To take the far-toiled |)ilgrim in. 
 Through his calked heart to find a lane 
 Tliat wandering beam doth search in vain. 
 The troops of time and winds have warred 
 On his proud frontlet still unscarred ; 
 The whirring thunder's crushing blow 
 Against the lightning wedge below 
 From pole to pole and east to west 
 Have toiled in vain to cleave his breast. 
 
 Beneath that tow'ring oak's deep shade. 
 
 Now with whose locks the May-cloud played, 
 
 In pathless contemi)lation lost, 
 
 On thought's wide ocean tempest-tossed, 
 
 The type of sinewy hardihood. 
 
 Forlorn and sad a stranger stood. 
 
 To dote upon his gilded locks 
 
 The sirens leave their ocean rocks. 
 
INTEMPERANCE. 29.J 
 
 A block from nature's tempest sky 
 
 Did she hew out to build his eye. 
 
 Refined with all her shining craft, 
 
 And charged w4th many a burning shaft, 
 
 A globe of soul bepeopled fair, 
 
 Dejected stood that stranger there. 
 
 The proud sun's self smiled to allow 
 
 The rival radiance of his brow, 
 
 The title page, from which survey 
 
 The ocean vast that washed its bay. 
 
 His brawny arms might tilt a sword 
 
 Would humble many a knighted lord, 
 
 Or him who smiled in savage joy 
 
 Above the flower of fallen Troy. 
 
 In that deep bosom's spacious bound 
 
 Did iron strength an empire found ; 
 
 A princely eagle soaring high 
 
 The heart within that flesh-domed sky ; 
 
 And lavish nature does not spare 
 
 Such charms as most may claim her care, 
 
 A long, majestic caravan 
 
 Of qualities that make a man. 
 
 At source of fortune's sunny Nile, 
 In wonder vague he stands awhile, 
 Fixed as the nude and knotted root 
 That warped the soil beneath his foot, 
 Inflexile as the stubborn wood, 
 
290 INTEMPERANCE. 
 
 The mossy trunk by which he stood. 
 At length wild thoughts that flee control 
 Begin to buzz within his soul. 
 " Is that the cold material sky 
 Through which I aim this dark'ning eye, 
 Or have I tracked some wizard road 
 That led me to this strange abode? 
 Is that thing clay on which I stand ? 
 Is this my staff and this my hand ? 
 Is yon a flower I think I see ? 
 Is that a cloud and this a tree ? 
 Is that black fragment yonder rock ? 
 Are all these toys to gibe and mock ? 
 Is yon a bird that flies so high ? 
 I wonder now if I am I. 
 Is this strange structure w^hat it seems, 
 Or is it but a bale of dreams? 
 * Are these rough ribs substantial zones, 
 
 Or sinipl}^ bubbles painted bones ? 
 Is this tiling flesh that seems so fair, 
 Or something not so tough as air ? 
 Was that the wind I thought I heard, 
 Or in the boughs some linnet stirred ? 
 Was that some tinkling silver bell ? 
 It could not be a leaf that fell ! 
 
 "But mum, my soul, I hear some strain. 
 It patters down, methinks like rain. 
 
INTEMPERANCE. 297 
 
 Oh, what a dainty kernel lies 
 
 In yon blue nutshell of the skies ! 
 
 Sweet Paradise ! Have I at last 
 
 In thy deep port my anchor cast ? 
 
 What hand hath piled these cliffs of gold 
 
 Whose diamond towers I now behold ? 
 
 What kind of leaf grows on the flowers, 
 
 That fragrance thus o'erflows the bowers — 
 
 A sea of sweetness, on whose tide 
 
 Tlie Pyrenees, like foam, might ride ? 
 
 Ye golden-winged and bright-faced throng. 
 
 Why did I rust on earth so long, 
 
 To grow and eat, uproot and mar, 
 
 A tin-worm on a vapory star, 
 
 To tipple, shout, and reel, and fall. 
 
 In cesspool vineyards of that ball, 
 
 To fodder on the tares of strife. 
 
 And Avriggle tlirough the mire of life, 
 
 To snatch at every painted shape, 
 
 And suck tlie gall from out the grape? 
 
 " l*oor moth, I dabbled in its glare 
 And fancied I was happy there. 
 Alone and cheerless, may I praise 
 The joyful scenes of other days ? 
 AVhy doth my star of sorrow set ? 
 I have an eye can shame him yet. 
 That was a meek and virtuous dawn — 
 
298 INTEMPERANCE. 
 
 I marked her step across the lawn — 
 And, as I rose at morn to drink 
 One joyous draught, ah! did I think 
 A snake so fell in his foul slime 
 Lay coiled within that tuft of time ? 
 
 " But where so suddenly hath gone 
 
 The green old steed I jockeyed on? 
 
 Where is that whirlwind planet-cloud, 
 
 At whose dim altars once I howed ? 
 
 Where is that dark, death-windowed shop, 
 
 Where is that sorrow-painted top 
 
 Spinning along the level skies 
 
 That once I held at such a prize ? 
 
 Alas ! 'Tis here. My senses reel. 
 
 The damn'd know not the pangs I feel. 
 
 That hell were bliss that did contain 
 
 But half of my transcendent pain. 
 
 Whence come those throngs that, like a sea, 
 
 Assemble now to stare at me ? 
 
 So humble here, and once so proud, 
 
 AVhy do I shrink from yon cold crowd ? 
 
 Through all their mazes, hushed, compressed, 
 
 A shudder creeps from breast to breast. 
 
 What is this mantle of disgrace 
 
 That muffles up my wildered face ? 
 
 O'er all surrounding life no cloud. 
 
 What means this coffin and this shroud? 
 
INTEMPERANCE. 299 
 
 Appalling sprite ! Dark gallows tree ! 
 Why dost thou scowl so black at me? 
 
 " Life's doubtful bliss I know no more, 
 
 And love's weird dream's forever o'er. 
 
 Here, 'neath this dark and frowning beam, 
 
 Is there no hand that can redeem 
 
 My forfeit life ? Is there no friend 
 
 In this dire hour some aid can lend ? , 
 
 Sweet friendship, for the soul distressed, 
 
 Thou art indeed a cheering guest. 
 
 To lowly man to soothe his sores, 
 
 O bounteous Heaven ! 'mong all thy stores. 
 
 Thou hast no treasure thou canst send 
 
 More priceless than a faithful friend. 
 
 " Let fate and envy strain the rack, 
 Let bristling fear beset my track, 
 Let mouse-jawed fiend by dark or day 
 Gnaw at each nerve that tunes my clay. 
 With sooty hand come rude despair 
 To soil the lace that hope should wear, 
 And snatch from off her trembling form 
 The last frail shred that fenced the storm ; 
 Though every hair upon my head 
 Suspend an oak whose leaves are lead. 
 Though in its branches scream and sing 
 Each boding bird that woe can wing. 
 
300 INTKMl'EKAXCK. 
 
 Though on its moss-grown, barky wall 
 Jler slimy toads and lizards crawl ; 
 Though swinish fate deijl out his dole, 
 Root up the tiower-beds of my soul. 
 And rasp his cursed bone-bhuh'd knife 
 Against the fibers of my life : 
 Though stormy days be slow to close 
 In sunshine and rebuke my foes ; 
 Though chill neglect and aspic scoi'ns 
 Dig up my soul and plant their thorns ; — 
 I ask, though all these ills befall, 
 But one true friend to brave them all. 
 
 " Why around my scarlet hand 
 
 Should gather all this surging Ijand ? 
 
 Ye silent thousands, look at one 
 
 Whose pilgrimage of life is run ; 
 
 Who here atones in manhood's bud 
 
 The stain he wears of human blood. 
 
 Once I was crimsonless and gay 
 
 As any in this vast array. 
 
 Ah ! little did I comprehend 
 
 The hangman's noose my life should end. 
 
 On this bright day when the broad world, 
 
 In balnw banners far unfurled, 
 
 Doth seem for gaiety alone 
 
 To sit upon a flowery throne. 
 
 When feathered singers fill the air 
 
intp:mp?:rance. 301 
 
 With melody divine and rare ; 
 
 Beneath this tree whose crown uprears 
 
 A promise to succeeding years : 
 
 My few, few friends, on whom I lean, 
 
 Oh ! haste to close this torturing scene. 
 
 How near to me those thousands are, 
 
 Yet how immeasurably far ! 
 
 How deep and dread, — Oh ! can it be?— 
 
 The gulf that shuts them out from me ! 
 
 Where are the friends that once in showers 
 
 Swarmed 'round me in my better hours? 
 
 " My sainted mother from thy grave 
 Come out to-day my soul to save ! 
 Was this the honored destiny 
 Thy proud, fond heart forecast for me. 
 When I cavorted, pure and free, 
 A feeble child beside thy knee ? 
 Why didst thou yield my sinking soul 
 To the allurements of the bowl ? 
 Why didst thou not, my spirit, arm 
 Against the wine-cup's siren charm ? 
 Then, then, indeed ! thou wert not here, 
 And never should the burning tear 
 That clouds this tragic moment, trace 
 A pathway on my crimsoned face. 
 To Thee, Oreat Spirit ! I appeal, 
 At whose high throne I soon must kneel. 
 
302 INTEMPERANCE. 
 
 Forgive the heart that wine beguiled. 
 Oh, pardon tliy repentant child ! " 
 
 The multitude have vanished and 
 The sunlight falls on all the land ; 
 The oak tree swings its massive limbs, 
 The birds rechant their sylvan hymns ; 
 Through their green banks the brooklets run ; 
 The drunkard sleeps ; the scene is done. 
 
 VI 
 
 'Twas not with mild and friendly glance 
 I sought thy fane, Intemperance. 
 'Twas not through love I felt for thee 
 I sat me 'neath thy upas tree, 
 And not for what thy friends commend 
 Sought I thy bowers an hour to spend. 
 
 • est such a goddess might refuse, 
 
 I would invoke no courtly muse 
 
 Of golden heart or azure wing 
 
 To tune my rhyme and aid me sing. 
 
 Though from her far, ambrosial bower 
 
 To lure the nymph were in my power. 
 
 Though that weird skill should all be mine 
 
 To wave my wand and see her shine 
 
 A dazzling star and lustrous bow 
 
 Of help and love above my brow. 
 
INTEMPERANCE. 303 
 
 Though I possessed her sweet regard 
 As deep as Scio's bhnd old bard ; 
 In tide as full, in force as strong 
 As rolled the Mantuan epic song ; 
 As freighted with poetic fire 
 As Dante's strain, or Tasso'slyre, 
 The Lusiad grot, or IMilton's sweep 
 Where demons howl or angels weep ; 
 The course were blasphemy in me 
 With what is pure to couple thee. 
 
 All powerful queen of guilt and ill, 
 
 I knew thee once, I know thee still. 
 
 My fellow moths of liuman kind, 
 
 With motives pure and grief-refined — 
 
 The wrecks I marked on misery's beach — 
 
 I sat me down this hour to teach. 
 
 It is not that I sought applause 
 
 By dextrous verse or skillful pause, 
 
 'Tis not that I would carve my name 
 
 Upon the icy dome of fame. 
 
 That with the aid of pen and press 
 
 I creep before the world to dress 
 
 The fiend in her own robes and trace 
 
 Her visage in the market place ; 
 
 'Tis not for deeds of high renown, 
 
 The shaking down of tower or town, 
 
 The listed fight of warrior bold, 
 
304 ixtempp:rance. 
 
 The torrid heat or polar cold, 
 The tender sigh, the lover's smile, 
 Unmixed with taint of guilt or guile, 
 Nor marching millions stained in blood : 
 But for the liope of human good. 
 That I implore this little span 
 Before the audience of man. 
 
 If any eye shall ever see 
 These lowly lines, oh ! be it free 
 From all the chains of vice and care. 
 Of grief, and suff ring, and despair, 
 Of folly, wickedness, and crime, 
 The wastings out before their time 
 Of life and love that quench the soul 
 And heart of him who courts tlie bowl. 
 If any ear shall ever hear 
 The footfall of a drunkard's tear, 
 Can ever trace on this sad page 
 Th' unenvious, lowly heritage 
 That welcomes him and all he deems 
 The dearest of his heart's warm streams,, 
 If any may discern the cloud 
 Which glooms existence, like a shroud, 
 Or like the dark, forbidding pall 
 That periods life and shuts out all 
 The world and home can ever give 
 To those who still do love to live; 
 
INTEMPERANCE. 305 
 
 If any in these lines observe 
 The languid brain and shattered nerve, 
 The early blight and swift decay 
 Of some sweet flower of yesterday, 
 And, heeding thus,, aside should turn 
 From where th' engulfing fires do burn, 
 Should shun a precipice more dread 
 ' Than Gloster's faiftliful son outspread 
 Before his sightless sire, or fiee 
 
 The waters of a salty sea 
 
 As all-pervading and as dire 
 
 As that which drowned the world's wide choir 
 
 Of being, save the few who sat 
 
 At last on lonely Ararat ; 
 
 Then shall I feel that not in vain 
 
 My hand hath traced this simple strain. 
 
 If I can help but one poor waif 
 
 Of weak humanity and safe 
 
 Escort him to the flowery shore 
 
 Beside the cataract's angry roar — 
 
 He now so near, and yet so for, 
 
 From that dark frown of liquid war, — 
 
 The labor then will not be lost 
 
 Which this poor task of mine hath cost. 
 
 Thou heartless malelactress, know 
 Thy luring smile and venom glow. 
 Thy witching presence unrefined 
 
306 INTEMPEKANCE. 
 
 Not always may entrap mankind ; 
 Thy face may yet be shunned by all, 
 Thy handcuffs, chains, and shackles, fall 
 From off the cankered limbs where long 
 The clasp was tight, the bolt was strong ; 
 And humankind more purely soar 
 Than any that have flown before. 
 If Lucifer be Prince of Hell, 
 Thou art, indeed, his consort fell ; 
 Meet queen, malicious and alone. 
 To grace the arch-fiend's burning throne ; 
 Fit, if thy power on earth be named, 
 To rule o'er empires of the damn'd. 
 
 Come, sweet millenium, swiftly come, 
 When the appalling vice be dumb. 
 When, far or near, no drunken band 
 Shall desecrate a christian land ; 
 Transformed from fair and precious mold. 
 From hearts and minds of priceless gold. 
 No armies more of drunken brutes — 
 Prince Alcohol's ungracious fruits — 
 Shall march adown the fields of time 
 To fill the world with sighs and crime. 
 To court destruction from above, 
 To darken homes and roll sweet love 
 Of all the joys her godship hives 
 For sincere truth and -sober lives. 
 
INTEMPERANCE. »{)', 
 
 To quench the stars in vacancy 
 And blot the high sun from the sky, 
 To gloom the circumambient air 
 In rainbows charged with tears and care, 
 And hurl destruction down in showers, 
 To parch the earth and bhght the flowers. 
 To make mankind and all below 
 A desert waste of sleet and snow. 
 
 Advance, advance, thou glorious age, 
 Thy boons alone our hearts engage, 
 When alcohol shall be unknown. 
 When Temperance shall mount his throne — 
 The arch-fiend from his fortress hurled. 
 No more to scourge a happy world — 
 When mothers smile to see their sons 
 Unchained from fell debauchery's duns, 
 When husbands leading even lives 
 Bring peace and bliss to faithful wives, 
 When children full of youth's bright fires 
 Shall point with pride to sober sires. 
 Prosperity with gentle rule 
 Teach old and young in her sweet school. 
 When virtue's sun alone shall shine, 
 Nor all the earth her wealth confine — 
 Nor hearts, nor homss, by ill distressed — 
 When few are sad and many blessed. 
 All men rejoice, and angels dance 
 Upon thy grave. Intemperance. 
 
THP: SLAVE'S RE\^ENGE. 
 
 There are sighs of sadness heaving 
 
 From many a melting soul, 
 There are wheels of friendship broken 
 
 That never more may roll, 
 And troubled friends, lamenting 
 
 In many a bleeding home. 
 Bewail in sorrow lonely 
 
 The faded flowers of Rome. 
 
 The dark lists of proscription 
 
 Are posted through the town 
 And the bloodhounds of Augustus 
 
 Htill hunt their victims down : 
 The life-stream of the fairest 
 
 Her proudest ages know 
 Are mingling with the waters 
 
 Of Tiber's purj^le How. 
 
THE slave's itEVEXdE. IJOlt 
 
 A tliousaiid liearts are bleeding, 
 
 A thousand hearts have bled, 
 While thousands more are numbered 
 
 To join the injured dead ; 
 And on that list, immortal 
 
 To Caesar's crimson fame, 
 Behold the rank and title 
 
 Of many a haughty name. 
 
 There Antius among them 
 
 May live no more unsci'eened, 
 But meet the ghostly legions 
 
 His tyrant guillotined. 
 Ah I life's poor gift is gracious 
 
 E'en in fortune's stormy day, 
 And Kestio is determined 
 
 To journey far away. 
 
 While the robes of darkness circle 
 
 The weak and wearied grown, 
 This child of Rome is taking 
 
 His journey long and lone ; 
 The slaves he leaves behind him 
 
 Complete his overthrow, 
 And the plunder of his mansions 
 
 Adds sorrow to his woe. 
 
 " Farewell," said he, departing. 
 bleeding land of mine ! 
 
olO THE slave's revenge. 
 
 No more thy martial glory 
 Shall rouse this child of thine 
 
 Or nerve his arm in danger 
 To some unwonted deed 
 
 Tn vengeance on the demons 
 That made his nation bleed. 
 
 "Farewell, my heaving country, 
 
 Thou cradle of my sires. — 
 Ah ! Never more to bless thee 
 
 Shall blaze their altar fires ! — 
 May the gods divine encircle 
 
 Thy myrtle covered shore. 
 But, mansion of my ftithers, 
 
 Farewell forever more." 
 
 He said and sighed adieuing, 
 
 Then dried the burning tear 
 For those around his fireside 
 
 Whom he may never cheer : 
 Their anguish and their sorrows 
 
 Come thronging on his breast, 
 While Italia's caves and mountains 
 
 Deny the pilgrim rest. 
 
 Upon his way uncertain 
 
 Through forest, flood, and field, 
 Amid the hostile dangers 
 
THE slave's revenge. 311 
 
 That furious thousauds yield ; 
 While hope and will are fading 
 
 Within that sinking soul. 
 Cold, cold across his bosom 
 
 Misfortune's billows roll. 
 
 The spells of night are broken. 
 
 He hears a boding sound 
 In the stillness of the midnight 
 
 And the wilderness profound. 
 'Tis the footstep of a human 
 
 In the forest deep and wild 
 On the pathway long and lonely 
 
 Of a flying Roman child. 
 
 Now he hears a voice beside him — 
 
 Ah, unwelcome let it be 
 To the sad and heaving bosom 
 
 Of a homeless refugee ! — 
 And that magic voice reminds him 
 
 Of a voice he heard before 
 When he trod the stately mansions 
 
 That his pride shall know no more. 
 
 'Tis the slave he once degraded 
 
 When in passion's evil hour 
 He displayed the centaur nature 
 
 Of injustice leagued with power : 
 
312 THE slave's revenge. 
 
 And the Ibrin that once he branded 
 Stands in pride before him now 
 
 With the symbols of dishonor 
 Still im])lanted on his l)ro\v. 
 
 'Tis but now the bondmen freed him 
 
 From a felon's weary wall 
 Which a master's wrong decreed liim 
 
 In the dungeon's gloomy hall : 
 Seeks he now that heartless master 
 
 On his lone, bewildered way ; 
 Now he hails the hour approacliing 
 
 Of a dark, avenging day. 
 
 O, ye gods of man's creation. 
 
 Stay the hand that digs the grave. 
 
 ]Must the scion of the noble 
 Be the victim of a slave? 
 
 Not a soul of kindred near him, 
 
 Nor a lonely epicede, 
 Not a weeping heart beside him. 
 
 Not a friend to see him bleed. 
 
 " Master," said the injured l)ondsman, 
 " Curse the fate that dooms thee here, 
 
 A forlorn and flying exile 
 
 Far from home and country dear : 
 
 Curse the storm that sweeps around thee, 
 
THE slave's KEVKX(iE. 313 
 
 And the tempest cloud that Hies 
 O'er the once attractive bosom 
 Of Italia's sunny skies. 
 
 ^' Now I ask thee to remember 
 
 All thy cruelty to me, 
 And the vengeance tliat I promised 
 
 If this arm were ever free. 
 Fate has changed our situations. 
 
 I am thy proud master now. 
 I could light the stars of justice 
 
 On thy cold and craven l)row. 
 
 " Yet await no deed of danger 
 
 From this injured hand of mine ; 
 Far away cast each reflection 
 
 Of the darkest deed of thine : 
 Think upon thy virtues only 
 
 And the favors thou hast shown 
 To the servants of thy houseliold 
 
 Ere its pride was overthrown. 
 
 " Pleasant days we passed together 
 
 'Neath the myrtle and the vine, 
 Where the flowers of summer blooming 
 
 In their fragrance used to twine 
 With the beauties and the splendor 
 
 Which our hearts could once adore 
 
;14 THE slave's PxEVENGE. 
 
 In the valleys and the gardens 
 We are doomed to see no more. 
 
 " We have sighed, and we have sorrowed^ 
 
 Smiled in bright and sunny hours 
 In the fields and in the valleys, 
 
 'Mid the forest and the bowers ; 
 Yet how vain the sad reflections 
 
 O'er an exile's heart that roam 
 As the soul reverts in sorrow 
 
 To the scenes enjoyed at home ! 
 
 " Then bethink thee of thy danger. 
 
 In this darksome hour of dread 
 Let the mantle of the panther 
 
 Be the pillow of thy head. 
 And the cavern of the mountain 
 
 Prove to thee a downy sheet 
 Where the noble of thy nation 
 
 And the forest sleepers meet. 
 
 '' Safe within will I conceal thee, 
 And no human fiend shall find 
 
 The refuge of my master 
 
 In his mountain cell enshrined : 
 
 The labor and the danger, 
 My liege, consign to me 
 
THE SLAVES HEVEN(iE. 315 
 
 And far from Caesar's kingdom 
 Thy lordship soon shall be." 
 
 Now xVntius is sheltered 
 
 In liis lonely mountain cave, 
 His life within the keeping 
 
 Of his sorely injured slave ; 
 A]id that servant is preparing, 
 
 While his features wear a smile, 
 The structure rude and rugged 
 
 Of his master's solemn pile. 
 
 Nor is the work completed, 
 
 Ere on that hapless way 
 Is seen a weary palmer 
 
 Whose silken locks are gray. 
 Now, to the place advancing. 
 
 The stranger bids him hail, 
 But list the dying accents 
 
 That swell upon the gale. 
 
 The servant arm of Kestio 
 
 Has made that victim reel 
 And the bosom of that stranger 
 
 Is the scabbard of his steel. 
 He came with weary footstep 
 
 Where that lonely pile was made 
 
ol() TlIK slave's KKVKXiiK. 
 
 And on its solenni summit 
 His aged limbs were laid. 
 
 Behold! the toivli is lighted 
 
 And sul)limelY dark and dire 
 Are rolling to the heavens 
 
 The vapors of that tire. 
 And in the distant valley 
 
 See C'tcsar's troops advance 
 Arrayed in savage si)lendor 
 
 With helmet, plume, and lanee. 
 
 " Ho, Warriors!" cries the bondsman, 
 
 " Behold a victim here 
 The current of whose l)OSom 
 
 To Ctesar's wrath is dear : 
 This man was once a master 
 
 And I his servant true. 
 Well for his dark injustice 
 
 This gory meed was due. 
 
 " There lies his lifeless body 
 And feeds that hungry flame, 
 
 And where his head is lying- 
 Yon stony eyes proclaim. 
 
 Bear Restio's bleeding tro}ihy 
 For Roman eves to see. 
 
THE slave's REVEN(JE. olT 
 
 And be your monarch's plcMsuve 
 A rich reward to me." 
 
 Tliose steel-mailed hearts rejoicing 
 
 That trophy bear away, 
 While the servant seeks his master 
 
 With all the haste he may. 
 Behold, with joyous bosoms 
 
 They walk a sylvan strand 
 And soon resume their journey 
 
 To seek a distant land. 
 
 They found a friendly harl)or 
 
 And rode a peaceful \vave, 
 This symbol of injustice, 
 
 This crimson human slave. 
 And thus they dwelt together 
 
 The tempest billows o'er. 
 Far from the vines and myrtles 
 
 That I'obe the Roman shore. 
 
THE PICTURE THAT HANGS ON THE WALL. 
 
 When fancy creeps back to the hours that have faded, 
 The friends that long years have now mehowed and 
 
 shaded, 
 And all the fond hopes that my boyhood paraded, 
 
 No gift of my youth I more fondly recall, 
 Among the gay haunts recollection replaces. 
 The snow-pinioned spirits, and narrow arch-graces, 
 Diaphanous bosoms, and cherul)ic faces, 
 
 Tlian this little picture that hangs on the wall. 
 
 That motioidess shadow was once my })roud treasure, 
 My constant companion in sadness and pleasure, 
 With a merciful eye ever ready to measure 
 
 The sky of my triumph, the gulf of my fall. 
 The universe surged at her slightest emotion, 
 She kindled my soul into flames of devotion. 
 And all tliat is left of that magical ocean 
 
 Is this little }>icture that hangs on the Avail. 
 
THE PICTURE THAT HAX(;S OX THE WALL. 319 
 
 The picture to me a briglit being discloses 
 
 That once in the breast where this silence reposes 
 
 Was as pure as the lilies and sweet as the roses 
 
 AVhose fragrance aml)rosial enveloped us alb 
 Too fondly I dreamed that my destiny never 
 Should call upon me and this treasure to sever, — 
 Alas ! that my soul should be darkened forever 
 
 By this little picture that liangs on the wall. 
 
 When I gaze there awhik> and with all my attention 
 Observe the faint lines of its trivial extension, 
 It seems that the heart in so small a dimension, 
 
 Was less than the raindrop that fades in its fall. 
 But ah ! in the l:)reast, of ivhich this is a token, 
 Beat a heart whose true worth must be ever unspoken ; 
 And no fragment remains of its spells that are broken 
 
 But this little picture that hangs on the wall. 
 
 That orbit of vision, so silently tender, 
 
 Was bright as the sun in the cloak of his splendor ; 
 
 Till the being it Ijrightened was called to surrender 
 
 Its beauteous glance in the jail of the pall. 
 Ah, fate ! thou wert always awake to aggrieve me : 
 What flattered me most was the first to deceive me, 
 Till at last, thou cold world, all I ask thee to leave me 
 
 Is this little picture that hangs on the wall. 
 
THE NATION'S DEFENDER. 
 
 There droops an iinj)retencliiig bud 
 
 Above a time-hewn clod, 
 Where armies filed their surging flood 
 
 In shoes of purple shod, 
 And globulets of patriot blood 
 
 Have circled o'er its sod. 
 
 It rises on the silver cliord 
 
 Of memory to me, 
 As sacred as the spirit guard 
 
 Of gilded Galilee— 
 That little, green, secluded sward 
 
 In a copse of Tennessee. 
 
 A graveless soldier's bleaching bones 
 
 Are sleeping on that spot, 
 Accusers of the tinsel thrones 
 
 For which tlieir lime must rot, 
 And dreaming of the holy tones 
 
 Of childhood's lowlv cot. 
 
THE nation's dkfxnder. 321 
 
 'Tis lonely round his loyal bower 
 
 When, gray old day undressed, 
 They snatch the bulbous solar flower 
 
 From her bosom of the west, 
 And darkness consecrates the hour 
 
 To sorrow, thought, and rest. 
 
 'Tis lonely when the fireflies meet 
 
 In conclave o'er his head, 
 'Tis lonely when the dewy sheet 
 
 Above his dust is spread, 
 And lonely long shall be the beat 
 
 He never more may tread. 
 
 That frame whose powers could once o'erswim 
 
 A Dardanelles of fear. 
 Now, nerve by nerve, and liml) l)y limb, 
 
 Doth softly disappeai' ; 
 While chaste Columbia weeps for him, 
 
 Her martyr volunteer. 
 
 His seamy breast is bared to flght 
 
 Full many a furious foe. 
 And in the stormy, frosty night 
 
 When winter winds do blow. 
 His fleshless ribs, all smooth and white, 
 
 Are filled with lungs of snow. 
 
322 THE nation's dkfkndek. 
 
 He watches, tliroiigh his eyes of ice, 
 His soul among the stars ; 
 
 While peris IVesli from paradise 
 Arrest their silver ears 
 
 To hide by many a bleak device 
 The warrior's boii}' scars. 
 
 December, blind with frozen tears, 
 Her cnrtain round him draws, 
 
 To pay her queenshi})'s cold arrears 
 Of sharp and pale applause 
 
 And hang her crystal chandeliers 
 Along bis gumless jaws. 
 
 But when the green blood of the spring 
 Doth creep through blade and tree. 
 
 And leafy feathers lift their wing- 
 Along the forest sea, 
 
 There nature's lyre is strung to sing 
 A merrier matinee. 
 
 From out the ])ores of Ins nude brow 
 
 Doth moss and ivy start ; 
 While here and there, a tendril bough 
 
 Fulfills a pulse's part, 
 And a tuft of grass the wind stirs now 
 
 Replaces his proud heart. 
 
THE nation's dkfkndki;. o2o 
 
 The r()l)iii hops across his face, 
 
 An unobtrusive guest, 
 And, looking at the liollow space 
 
 His vision once possessed, 
 ConcUides 'twould be a cozy place 
 
 To build a summer nest. 
 
 Bright Ijuttercu}) and violet 
 
 Are sprouting through his hands, 
 
 The maiden-ljosomed mignonette, 
 And Howers of genial lands 
 
 Which, till tlie orlj of glory set, 
 Shall l)loom above his sands. 
 
 The cone that cracked his life's fair glass 
 
 Hath but a l:)arren l)ed, 
 For the brain through which it would not pass, 
 
 That flowed around its lead, 
 Hath mingled with the l)oiling mass 
 
 Of cloudhills overhead. 
 
 Alas, 'tis sad and many weep, 
 
 'Xeatli his forehead's arching wall. 
 
 To hear the mice that ski]) and leaj) 
 And rattle that cold ball, 
 
 When this huge world is still in sleep 
 And silence dungeons all. 
 
.")24 THE nation's dkkkndkh. 
 
 Around his reckless finger twines 
 
 A jaunty gem of gold 
 Through whose mute lips a secret shines 
 
 Was cast in days of old, 
 Initialed on whose surface lines 
 
 A hright-eyed tale is told. 
 
 But she whose name is scrolled to speak 
 Of silkier scenes than this, 
 
 Knows nothing of the swarms that seek 
 In heyday summer's bliss 
 
 To hask upon the stony cheek 
 She never more may kiss. 
 
 Her spirit lost its trancing })Ower 
 
 And she is mateless yet — 
 A chaste, neglected, wilting flower 
 
 Her tears ke})t ever wet, 
 That crisped and faded hour by hour 
 
 When her sun of love had set. 
 
 Oh ! bad we but some magic art 
 Of marrying mind and clay. 
 
 How quickly would that poor man start 
 From his dull dust to day 
 
 To weed those nettles from bis heart 
 Xo gardener evei' mav. 
 
THE nation's dkkkndkk. 325 
 
 All ! memory's peaks are hung with snow 
 
 And bonnd in chains of frost, 
 To think of all now laid so low 
 
 Whom we have loved and lost, 
 And that bleak sea of hnman ^voe 
 
 Our nation's battles cost. 
 
 THERE IS CRAPE UPON THE DOOR. 
 
 'Tis a touch of necromancy 
 
 At our prudish world to stare 
 Through the telescope of fancy 
 
 From some college in the air. 
 See, in all the gold of gladness 
 
 What a tissue of alloy, 
 What a gorgeous cape of sadness, 
 
 On the sunny waist of joy: 
 In the ripples of the river, 
 
 In the grass-waves of the shore, 
 In the shaft of cupid's quiver, 
 
 There is crape upon the door. 
 
 In the autumn and the summer. 
 
 In the gallopade of spring, 
 In the clouds' electric drummer, 
 
 In the pauper and the king, 
 
320 THERE IS CJ!A]*K IJ'oX THE DOOlt. 
 
 On tlie mountain, in tlie valley, 
 
 In the desert and the town, 
 In retreat, and charge, and rally, 
 
 Fierj'' green, and sol)er bi-own. 
 In the flier and the creeper, 
 
 In the groan, the growl, the roar, 
 There is ahva}^? something deeper ; 
 
 There is crape upon the door. 
 
 Wlien we butt the salient angles 
 
 Of ingratitude and scorn, 
 Of deceit, and cares, and wrangles. 
 
 From the loins of justice born ; 
 When we find the arrant foxes 
 
 Of hypocrisy and wrong 
 That, like pesudo-orthodoxes, 
 
 Have inveigled us so long ; 
 When we kiss the empty flagon 
 
 For the soul which once it wore, 
 Near the undertaker's w^agon. 
 
 There is crape upon the door. 
 
 When we hazard on the ocean 
 Of the coming or the past. 
 
 And the streamers of emotion 
 Are unfolded from the mast ; 
 
 When we let the steam on duty 
 O'er some unfrecjuented track, 
 
THERE IS CRAPE VPOy. THE DOOR. 
 
 When we strip the He from beauty, 
 AVhen we warn the victim back, 
 
 When our comrades melt their faces, 
 Each to its primeval ore, 
 
 And but ciphers mark their places ; 
 There is crape upon the door. 
 
 When the dull and stony-breasted 
 Sneer at chaste and humble toil, 
 
 And our spirits fire-invested 
 
 In their clay-casks heave and l)oil, 
 
 When the pitchy Ijait of blindness 
 lAires to some beleaguered goal 
 
 Where the truncheon of unkindness, 
 Cuts a gash across the soul, 
 
 When the cold and the unfeeling- 
 Pinch the sentient bosom sore, 
 
 The unspoken wrongs revealing, 
 There is crape upon the door. 
 
 When the folds of disappointment 
 
 Coil around the throat of care, 
 When we sip the nauseous ointment 
 
 Of misfortune and despair, 
 When the flakes of woe fall thicker, 
 
 From some providential dome, 
 And coquettish hearts grow sicker 
 
 Of the sacred wealth of home ; 
 
328 TIIEJJE IS CKAl'K II'OX THE DOOK. 
 
 AVhen the friend, the foe, the .stranger, 
 8weh thy lieart-aches more and more, 
 
 'Tis the evening star of danger; 
 There is era])e u])on the door. 
 
 When the colioi'ts of secession 
 Siege the port of hnman good, 
 
 Drive the })icl<ets of ])rogression 
 Back to ignorance's wood, 
 
 Where tlie steely sliare of angui.sli 
 Digs a fnrrow througli tlie hrain, 
 
 When the ho])es tliat gnash and languish 
 Are reported 'mongst the slain, 
 
 When the patriot is sleeping 
 On his downy sheet of gore. 
 
 And our eyes grow lean witli weeping- 
 There is eraiie U})on the door. 
 
 When the bay of satisfaction, 
 
 With its fleet of pleasures fraught, 
 Wakes to equinoctial action 
 
 'Neath September clouds of thought ; 
 AVhen fell innuendo's cannon 
 
 Is unliml)ered at the head, 
 And we drift along a Shannon 
 
 Of the flying waves of lead ; 
 When the dreams of some snow-lover, 
 
 O'er our pebbly musings ])Our, 
 
^riTKKK IS CI I A I' K ri'ox TIIK I)()()|;. 
 
 A\'licii romance has lost its cover; 
 There is crape upon tlie tloor. 
 
 When the frothy tongue of slander 
 
 Is protruding from the j'aws 
 Of some jealous reprimander 
 
 In a charitable cause ; 
 When a patriachal lady 
 
 •Spends a play-day in the grave, — 
 'Neath the cypress, weird and shady. 
 
 Picks the bones of glory's slave ; 
 AVhen refinement galls the ashes 
 
 ( )f the gifted gone before 
 AVith her poisoned cuts and lashes; 
 
 There is crape upon the door. 
 
 When we feel the blood-tears trickle 
 
 Down the cheeks of blanching hearts, 
 AMien we fall l)efore the sickle 
 
 ( )f dece[)tion's slings and darts, 
 AVhen Ave shrink Ijeneatli a palace, 
 
 Or a Juggernaut of crime, 
 When we take the hemlock chalice 
 
 From the trembling hand of time ; 
 AVhen we vanish in the distance, 
 
 When we leap from deatli's cold tloor 
 Through the threshold of existence, 
 
 There is crape upon the door. 
 
3:50 
 
 PRIDE. 
 
 Hail, luiil, l.auglity moiiavcli of error and eriiue. 
 Hail, arrogant king of misfortune's bloak clime, 
 Where vice's green ]>inions and inftimy's snow 
 \yv the elements only that glitter and glow. 
 Say, spirit of evil, wlience comes thy renown 
 iVnd the jewels that tlash in thy glittering ci'own ? 
 Not from the wide kingdonis ex])anding helow 
 The dawnings of ])leasnre and sunsets of woe, 
 Noi- regions celestial when' cheru])s unite 
 To echo afar their wild dreams of delight ; 
 But from the dark caverns of grief and des})air 
 Spring the gems of delusion thy l)Osom doth wear : 
 From regions infernal thy flag was unfurled 
 And it swept, like a holt, o'er the brow of the world. 
 
 Behold the dire phalanx of vanity fade. 
 
 In all the regalia of fashion displayed, 
 
 From the monarch with scepter aloft on his throne 
 
 To the heggar that wanders all weary and lone. 
 
 Oh ! the folly, the pomp, and the i)ageaiit, t)f pride, 
 
 To the thousands that faltered, the millions that died. 
 
 As frail and as fleeting to glory and thee, 
 
 As the bubble that sits on the foam of the sea. 
 
i>iMDE. r;r]i 
 
 Look down to tlu' hills of our own favored land 
 "Where the chieftains who rule o'er America stand : 
 Pride sits in the forums our nations afibrd 
 And, e'en, on the altars where Clod is adored. 
 Ah ! mark the poor creature that honors thy name, 
 A waytarer lost on the highway of sliame, 
 A wanderer far from the home he would find, 
 A traitor to (lod, and a curse to mankind. 
 
 (laze round on our })lanet from mountain to sea 
 On the iron-mailed legions that 1)attle for thee : 
 As tlie flowers of the valley unmind)ered and fair, 
 As the lierds of the tield, and the flocks of the air, 
 As the crystals of watei" in ocean displayed, 
 Or the sands of tliat bed where tlu' ocean is laid, [high, 
 Were tlie millions arrayed when thy banner waved 
 Like a })haiitom of grief on the dome of the sky. 
 
 Oh! wlien love, like tlie dove, flnds an ark in the soul, 
 AVhat blissful compassion and meekness control. 
 How, spreading her pinions in fanciful flight, 
 She hails the fair morning ; — no sunset gives light 
 To the mansions of gold and the hues of each shoal 
 Where the darkening waves of our memories roll. 
 Alas! when she thinks of the lam-els for man, [he ran, 
 Through the grief and the blood in thy course which 
 Far away soars the dove with a sanctified air, 
 To chant a liosanna of " never despair." 
 
' >» > ■) 
 
 riiiDio. 
 
 list ! the threat of detianco that circles this liour, 
 The fiat of vengaiice that rails at thy power. 
 Yes! loose the fierce tiend of the far-i-agiiig storm, 
 Till it deafen the sound of tlie tocsin's alarm. 
 Till the heasts of the forest grow frantic and (.lie 
 And the eagle he hurled from liis eyry on high : 
 Let the tempest arise and the storm-demon sweep 
 Till tlie lu'avens are enguH'ed in the waves of the di>ep. 
 
 J^laze the hres of thy vengeance in darkness and dread 
 
 Till creation he wild and yon ether l)e red , 
 
 Heave the holts of thy wrath till they shatter tlie gloom 
 
 Wliich nature consigns to the slec]) of the tomh, 
 
 Till, volley on volley, and })eal upon i)eal, 
 
 The mountains that rise on our planet shall reel, 
 
 Yet, nnwav'ring and firm, this spirit of mine [pii^e; 
 
 Should stand 'gainst thy hlast like the strong mountain 
 
 AVhile legions, through elements wild and afar, 
 
 ( )hserve the ctt'ulgence of modesty's star. 
 
 Like A^eniis aloft in the pitch of her flight, [niglit 
 
 As she shone thi'ough the stars that convened in the 
 
 Ivound Ik'thlehem's Savior, so meek and so fair. 
 
 In the ocean of darkness that circled Him there, 
 
 Bequeathing redemption to soothe and to heal 
 
 The kiss of Iscarioth and Calvary's steel ; 
 
 'When 'gainst lofty Heaven in terror's dark day 
 
 Assembled hell's legions in jijigry array. 
 
O form of delusion ! come kneel at the grave 
 
 Where the dark -rolling waters of vanity lave ; 
 
 See the standard unfurled through the desolate night. 
 
 The trumpet that wails through the pauses of fight, 
 
 The poison of sin which embitters the mind 
 
 And fosters ambition, that pest of mankind. 
 
 Achillean justice, where then was thy power 
 
 O'er the iiencl and the foe of this heart-rending hour, 
 
 While the demon of vengeance swept wild o'er the plain 
 
 Wliere the l)lood and the ])ones of the mangled remain, 
 
 And the millions of slaugliter are red in their gore 
 
 Wlio shall rush to the onset of battle no more? 
 
 Again, my ])r()ud monarch, thy throne I assail 
 
 And with tauntings I owe thee my bosom regale. 
 
 Oh ! furnish a l)alm for each desolate heart, 
 
 A joy for the jnuig of each death-dealing dart ; 
 
 (iive cheer to that grief which thy votaries know, 
 
 Give comfort to sorrow and solace to woe, 
 
 Give peace and remission to sadness and sin, 
 
 And melody teach to the wai'-trum])et's din; 
 
 Go, wipe out tlie stain of that limitless flood 
 
 Which ages have gathered of sacrificed blood : 
 
 O lawless usurper! Give joy to (les[)air, 
 
 Give peace to the victims of merciless care. 
 
 Give back t<» our planet the millions who bled, 
 
 With a curse on their tongues o'er the battlefields red; 
 
 And oh I give to man what his forefathers lost, 
 
oiU I'RIDK. 
 
 Ivestore to Omniscience the blood that it cost, 
 Raise the ensign of j)eace o'er creation's wide span, 
 And then, wretched demon, ask homage of man. 
 
 do, sleep in the grave which thy courtiers have made 
 
 And where in pale glory their ashe>s are laid ; 
 
 Resign to thy rival thy pomp and thy crow]i 
 
 And all the wild deeds of thy evil renown ; 
 
 l.et her rise in her triumph on pinions of air 
 
 And assume the rich garbs that her enemies wear : 
 
 ]\roi"e bright than the rainbow thy casket would be, 
 
 And silenced thy wailings, wild nymph of the sea. 
 
 Oh ! tlien, how fondly would bend at thy throne 
 
 The hearts of the millions thy missiles have strown, 
 
 To plant in their bosoms a souvenir sweet 
 
 From the lx)Ughs of the ivy that springs at thy feet ; — 
 
 And remember, proud monarch, the ivy sfiall twine 
 
 Around every helmet and scepter of thine — 
 
 AMiat legions would fly to love's trembling embrace, 
 
 AMiat myriads leap up from the tond^ of our race, 
 
 To ]-obe their new goddess in fantasy blessed 
 
 And bestow her the power which her rival possessed. 
 
 Remember, proud chieftain, that hour sliall ap})ear. 
 Thine eye shall grow dim and shall nurture a tear, 
 The dark weary rounds of thy life roll away, 
 Like the mist of the morning, thy glory decay ; 
 While modestv, clad in her raiment of gold, 
 
TlIK TKAXSFOIIMATIOX. ooO 
 
 And wearing tlu' crown of her rival of old, • 
 A phoenix of glory in splendor arrrayed, 
 Shall arise from the dust where thy ashes are laid ; 
 As elear as tlie noonday and high as the sun 
 .Sliall wheel the wide circle thy ages have run. 
 And shed from the bosom her children adore 
 A smile from the millions that perish no more. 
 
 TH E TK ANSFORMATTOX. 
 
 Upon tliis circHng orb of ours 
 They tell of two mysterious powers 
 That on(;e appeared in Eden's bowers, 
 
 J-^eraphic and sul)lime, 
 When joy enthrone<l our infant sphere. 
 And, spreading splendor far and near, 
 Ascended on her wild career 
 
 Tlie matin star of time. 
 
 The first was framed of earthly mold, — 
 Not diamond dust or gilded gold, 
 Xor such as graced the marble cold 
 
 Wlience l)reathing heroes spring. 
 But of the clay that forms the frame 
 AV^hicli wears the garl) and bears the name 
 That once in Paradise l)ecame 
 
 Creation's chosen king. 
 
'.]'■>() THK TRANSFORMATION. 
 
 It claimed a pure and sweeter grace- 
 Than rested on that hap])y place 
 When Hope and Mercy came to trace- 
 
 The home for them designed ; 
 it wore the garh that millions wear, 
 It hore the stamp that millions hear, 
 It shared the doom that millions share,. 
 
 And millions yet shall find. 
 
 For cold and still the heart that lay 
 Within that mystic form of clay, 
 And pale those features that ])ortray 
 
 The essence of his race ; 
 Lifeless was each graceful limh. 
 The orhs that gave him light were dim,. 
 And death was there disrohing him 
 
 Of glory and of grace. 
 
 And, lo the other angel form, 
 
 Majestic from tlie matchless Arm 
 
 That called her forth and hade her warm* 
 
 The creature she reveres! 
 The seraphim her mantles hring, 
 And cheruh choirs hei- ])raises sing, 
 Immortal as the mighty King- 
 That I'eared the I'olling s])heres. 
 
TJIK TKANSFOKMATK^X. 
 
 More Ijright than suii.s that shine afar, 
 8ublimer than the planets are, 
 And fairer than the morning star 
 
 Behold her splendors shine ; 
 Enrobed within the golden cloud 
 Of serapli love, sweet, pure, and proud. 
 The gilded glories that enshroud 
 
 Omnipotence Divine. 
 
 That clay-cold form this spirit views, 
 While grief and love her soul diffuse 
 In sym[)athy's eml)alming dews 
 
 Above that marble mold. 
 And long in solitude's wild steeps 
 And mute unconsciousness she weeps 
 The silence of the heart that sleeps 
 
 In sluml)ers long and cold. 
 
 But now l)clio]d while gazing there 
 The changes in that vision fair 
 Ordained by heavenly i)Owcr to wear 
 
 The handiwork of God ; — 
 O wondrous metamorphosis! 
 It pledges in an hour like this 
 An immortality of t)liss 
 
 To that uncoiisious clod. 
 
oo.S LIJs'ES AT A (VrTUAX's (iRAVK. 
 
 In peace, and love, and grace, and niiglit, 
 Those kindred elements nnite, 
 And al] the world is robed in light 
 
 The spirit change to scan, 
 While angels in exultant hours, 
 Advised. by more omniscient powers, 
 Descend to Eden's happy bowers 
 
 To bless the home of MAN. 
 
 LINES AT A ('YPRIAN'S (JHAX^E. 
 
 Pale ashes, may a stranger glance 
 
 In thy dead face? 
 I'ldioly 'twere that rude advance 
 Should desecrate the pallid trance 
 That girdles round thy soul's ex])anse 
 
 In tins lone place. 
 
 Thy bosom that so fondly lieaved 
 
 Is pulseless now ; 
 And all that thou hast ever grieved 
 Who trusted, loved, or disbelieved, 
 Have left their shipwreck unperceived 
 
 On thv cold brow. 
 
LINES AT A CVPHIAX'S (JKAVK. 339 
 
 Spumed plaything of a tlioiisaiid men, 
 
 Abandoned clay, 
 Like pinks in girlhood's sunny glen 
 Could thy young charms l:)ut Ijlooni again, 
 Perhaps the moths that fluttered then 
 
 Would wing to day. 
 
 Of all who ever shared the cheer 
 
 ( )f thy bright hour, 
 There is not one who lingers near 
 Thy bloodless dust. There is no tear 
 To balm the melancholy jeer 
 
 Of this dead flower. 
 
 Where is thy father? AVliere is she 
 
 Who bore and bred, 
 Elately dandling on her knee 
 The future waif of misery ? 
 Where may all thy dear ones be, 
 
 Far from the dead ? 
 
 Blown blossom from the fragrant bough 
 
 Thy mother gave, 
 Why will the world revile thee now, — 
 E'en those base worms, more lost than thou. 
 And why should hide thy l)eauteous brow 
 
 A l)eggar's grave ? 
 
840 LINKS AT A (YrRlAN's (illAVII 
 
 Tlioii luust aiiorded doiil)tl'ul joy 
 
 To all who sought : 
 Will none I'espect the hroken toy 
 That gave them pleasure? Love's alloy 
 (_)fsii] Averi' null, ift eould destroy 
 
 The coffin thought. 
 
 Shall we i'xhaust tlie elnistian store 
 
 Of nierey here? 
 Shall charity close up the door 
 Against the clay that sins no more, 
 Or cheat the heart wliose aches are o'er^ 
 
 Of one ])ure teai\ 
 
 Jvcmiss in love, and wild in wine. 
 
 Frail, fa(K'<l girl ! 
 How many a ivvel has heeii thine, 
 Since that sweet hour of auld lang syne 
 When. Heaven to childhood did eonsign 
 
 Thy soul's rare ]»earl? 
 
 Thou hast known all that life can know 
 
 ( )f joy and gall : 
 Hast ti-am])led virtue, chaste as snow 
 l)t'cend)er's ehristiiuis nudnights l)low, 
 I^egi'imed and stained, all lilaek l)elow 
 
 The harlot's ])all. 
 
LINKS AT A CVl'lilAN's (illANK. ;]4;1 
 
 And when lier womanliood grew sick. 
 
 Of life aghast, 
 Fatigued ahke of tiask and cliiiuc. 
 Of gaudy rohe, and flimsy ti'ick, 
 i5he Ht with poison love's last wick, 
 
 And death came past. 
 
 Ui)on her heaving l)Osom, some 
 
 Have swooned them long, 
 In paroxysmal pleasure dund), — 
 To virtue and religion, mind) 
 As was herself. Why not now eomc 
 
 To rhyme death's song? 
 
 In that hyemal, l)ittei- idght 
 
 When all grew eohl 
 That once in her was warm and l)right 
 As vernal noonday's zenith light, 
 How did the angels disunite 
 
 Her dross and gold ? 
 
 Did elves and houris wave tlie wing- 
 To guide her on 
 
 Far upM'ard from the cesspool spring 
 
 Of years, to which she would not cling; 
 
 Or hideous, cursing demons sting 
 The spirit one? 
 
'M"! I>IXKS AT A CYI'KIAn's (iltAVK. 
 
 Doivs slie enjoy .soiuo Iji'oad alxxlo 
 
 111 ( Jod's mild j^ky ; 
 Or are lier errors such a load 
 Slie may not reacli Ijeyoiid the node 
 Ivemorse dis])lays long all lliy road, 
 
 intern it y? 
 
 High in tlic s('ra]»li's golden parks 
 
 She lunv may dwell, 
 To Avatch the robins and the larks 
 In Heaven : or haply she remarks 
 From brimstone nooks the blackened barks 
 
 Afloat in hell. 
 
 Slu' may possess the sweetest smile 
 
 To love allied ; 
 Or, potent still for ill or guile, 
 Nude siren on some white-hot isle, 
 She may be queen of all the vile 
 
 That ever died. 
 
 Yet no. Though soiled, dcsjiiscil, and naught. 
 
 In man's hard mind. 
 Such erring ones the Savior sought. 
 Thy soul's salvation Jesus wrought. 
 And joy is thine, since hell is hot. 
 
 And Ood is kind. 
 
343 
 
 THE PAINTINi;. 
 
 Tliore's u iVcirrior aslco]) on the l)anks of St. Fraiu-is 
 Who, once in the phalanx of hberty's lances, 
 
 Seemed l)right as the eagle that glanced on his lireast, 
 iVnd fresh as the bloom of the new-budded roses 
 That rock o'er the clay where the hero re])Oses, 
 
 To shed their pure tears o'er tlie grass-covered guest. 
 
 There's an old man (le})ressed ])y some hurdi'U of sorj'ow. 
 Who looks on his gi'ave o'er the wall of to-morrow 
 
 With an ominous gaze through the awnings of age : 
 He heeds not the kiss of the velvet-cheeked breezes,. 
 And he looks on the birds as they thread the tall trees as 
 
 lleminders of one in his <lust-covered cage. 
 
 There's another crisped gray, like the Hower on the 
 
 mountain, 
 A picture of grief, for the deep seated fountain 
 
 That flowed from the vale of her bosom is dried, 
 And the gilt of her life disappears from its edges. 
 As she fancies the fortress, the brake, and the sedges, 
 
 That designate still the low spot where he died. 
 
 There's an empty-eyed woman, a lily-browed maiden, 
 A sister whose heart with its grief overladen, 
 
■ 144. carhjkk's address koi; l<S()i)-7(). 
 
 (Joes down in the waves of her foani-featlieitd woe: 
 The June of existence is bleak as Decemlter, 
 And of all liei- warm hopes, the last feeble ember 
 
 ({rows cold as her liearthstone and pale as the snow. 
 
 There's somewhere a eot in ( 'olunibia's valleys [rallies, 
 Wliere, while freedom still bleeds, and the soldiei' still 
 
 This four-visaged ])ainting dotli look from the wall. 
 () heirs of the future! If slander should lash us, 
 When the eoals of our lives are asleep in their ashes, 
 
 Remember the frame in your forefather's hall. 
 
 CARHIEK'S ADDRESS FOR l8()5)-70. 
 
 A glad New Year, a bliss refined, 
 
 May each and all enjoy : 
 A golden heart and silver mind, 
 Serenely, sweetly entertwined, 
 Let this inclement morning find 
 In each chaste bosom that is kind 
 To your poor carrier bov. 
 
 Let cheer assume her lofty place 
 Where cherubs love to stray, 
 
 ( dad fortune run a sumiy race 
 ^\'ith features sweetly gay: 
 
carrier's address for 1869-70 345 
 
 Nor let one line of sadness trace 
 Your hearts and homes of peace and grace, 
 But a smile sit king of each fair face 
 That looks on me to-day. 
 
 Last night at twelve a babe was born : 
 We chant his name and fame this morn 
 
 In his cradle lowly set ; 
 And well it were, might we adorn 
 
 The stranger we have met, 
 For other other days might seem forlorn, 
 If now we fail to sound that horn 
 
 Must rouse the chieftain yet. 
 
 So calm is his blue eye, so mild. 
 So beauteous, and so unbeguiled, 
 That scarce is reason reconciled 
 
 With fancy's vague employ ; 
 On castles in the future piled 
 All disproportioned, weird, and wild, 
 Baptizing his unconscious child 
 
 In the Jordan of its joy. 
 
 Last night at twelve an old man died. 
 
 We heard him breathe his last, 
 We marked his dark and sullen pride 
 
 On his midnight deathbed cast. 
 
346 carrier's ADDRESS FOR 1869-70. 
 
 " Ah ! " swollen- veined and stony-eyed, 
 " Is this the dream of life ? " he cried ; 
 And, rolling on his azure side, 
 He drifted to the past. 
 
 It seemed so strange to see him sick, 
 
 Who lived so proud till now, [quick, 
 
 When the pulse grew lame which was once so 
 When the last spark flew from life's pale wick, 
 When his heart- wheels clicked their last faint click, 
 And the starry sweat stood cold and thick 
 Along his frozen brow. 
 
 Another is what he has been. 
 Inherits all he toiled to win 
 
 Through age, and youth, and prime ; 
 Another whale has worn its fin, 
 Another worm crawled out to spin 
 
 Its silk in some new clime. 
 Another leaf has lost its kin, 
 Another drop gone down the linn. 
 Another sand's unchained from sin, 
 And another block is fitted in 
 
 The monument of time. 
 
 But now he's gone, and let him roll 
 Along his specter track ; 
 
carrier's address for 1869-70. 347 
 
 For there are those to his far goal 
 
 The voyage would not slack, 
 Or seize the gray hairs of his poll 
 
 To pluck the wanderer back. 
 
 No tear fell from the summer shower 
 
 On that dead friend of mine ; 
 No blossom sat within the bower, 
 
 No cluster on the vine; 
 But, by some freak of nature's power. 
 The whole broad earth was one white flower, 
 When, in the still and solemn hour, 
 
 They buried '69. 
 
 Though cold thyself, yet unexpired, 
 
 What memories round thee cling, 
 What mystic changes have transpired, 
 
 What anthems did we ring. 
 Since thy possessions new-acf|uired. 
 In all thy robes of wealth attired. 
 And, by thy lithe ambition fired, 
 
 Thou gav'st thy falcon wing. 
 How many tasted undesired 
 
 Misfortune's waspy sting ; 
 Thy throne of glass, what hordes admired 
 
 Since nature crowned thee king. 
 
 The maid that was, is now a wife, 
 With a thorn in her mind ; 
 
348 carrier's address for 1869-70. 
 
 New tilings have l^ubbled into life 
 On the surface of mankind, 
 
 Poor privates in the cheerless strife, 
 Too often they must find, — 
 
 Before them gulf and battle-knife, 
 And the plains of peace behind. 
 
 And some that we have seen and prized 
 
 In the merry days of old, 
 Some being we have idolized 
 
 AVith a love we never told, 
 Rare gems that once we recognized 
 
 No more shall we behold. 
 In masks of clay their brows are guised, 
 Their spirit dreams are realized, 
 Their sacred dust is canonized. 
 
 And their crumbling hearts are cold. 
 
 Within the arms of this small year. 
 How vast a shade of varying cheer 
 
 Each one of us hath found : 
 The smile of love has dried the tear 
 From the sallow cheek and rain}^ sphere, 
 And all again was ftiir and clear 
 
 As the waltzing weeks went round ; 
 The tale of friends we deemed sincere , 
 
 Was but an empty sound. 
 
carrier's address for 1869-70. 349 
 
 Some hearts have proved that might be dear 
 But shoals and reefs of hate and fear, 
 While some, we wish to-day were here, 
 Are planted in the ground. 
 
 And stouter frames have felt the jerk 
 
 Thy giant tingers gave ; 
 The conquered Crete and cruel Turk 
 
 Are master still aiid slave: 
 Deception's arm has bared its dirk, 
 Some limbs were lopjied from court and kirk ; 
 Within our chambers long did lurk 
 
 Some confidential knave, 
 And a shameless ghoul has been at work 
 
 In the uncomplaining grave. 
 
 New martyrs have been sought and crowned, 
 And new disciples have been found 
 
 To thunder freedom's bells. 
 At once potential and profound. 
 From clime to clime the peal goes round. 
 And tyrants tremble at the sound 
 
 That shakes their citadels. 
 For, like the earthquake 'neath the ground, 
 Still liberty shall burst its bound 
 
 AncI cast her broken shells ; 
 Her victim sons shall deal the wound. 
 And ftir those names shall yet resound 
 
350 carrier's address for 1869-70. 
 
 Whose patriot hearts to-day are drowned 
 In Albion's iron hells. 
 
 Old, absent year! We know too late 
 
 Thy worth intrinsic when 
 Thy life has paid its debt to late : 
 But now, that thou hast left a mate 
 To sail our barge, transport our freight, 
 
 And guide us once again. 
 Where shall we build and re-create, 
 And where begin to celebrate 
 The truly good and truly great 
 
 Of nations and of men ? 
 
 We need not 'mong the stranger seek 
 
 For one that is more grand ; 
 Nor need we shift to times antique, 
 On some far-famed Olympian peak 
 
 Triumphantly to stand ; 
 For there are words that we might speak 
 In the beauteous growth and life unique 
 
 Of our own unrivaled land. 
 With its snow-paint on her mountain cheek 
 
 And the olive in her hand. 
 
 Ah ! lonely is thy maiden mien. 
 
 At morning, noon, and vesper, seen * 
 
 In sadness or in mirth. 
 And proud be he this New Year's e'en 
 
carrier's address for 1869-70 351 
 
 Who loved thee from his hirth. 
 Vain empires lose their tinsel sheen 
 Beside thy robes of living green, 
 For, sweet Columbia, thou art queen 
 
 Of all the realms of earth. 
 
 And in the year that is now gone 
 
 How great has been thy gain ; 
 The blood that smoked thy face upon 
 
 Was washed in mercy's rain ; 
 Thy scars are healing one by one, 
 
 And passing is thy pain, 
 Despite the tears of sullen John 
 
 Across the briny main. 
 Or the black intrigue of knave and don 
 
 On the martial hills of Spain. 
 
 Beside thy blue, and white, and red. 
 
 This day of thy romance. 
 How thinly worn the standard shred 
 
 That other lands advance : 
 Beside the plumes that overspread 
 The heavenly bird that brings thee bread. 
 
 In the atmosphere of chance, 
 How barbarous is the languid tread 
 
 Of Russia's Cossack lance 
 The badge of Austria's martial dead, 
 
 Or the oriflamme of France. 
 
352 carrier's address for ] 869-70. 
 
 Long ma}^ our nation thrive and teem 
 
 And fling her foeman hack : 
 And now, my patrons, let us deem 
 This day's festivities heseem 
 
 No spirit dressed in hlack. 
 How often still, in thought or dream, 
 We followed on some fitful gleam 
 
 Along our airy track, 
 To-day Ave light another beam, 
 To-day we sail another stream, 
 To-day your carrier's wandering theme 
 
 Comes home to Fond du Lac. 
 
 Dear shelter of our fond ones, may 
 Thy bouyant heart be ever gay ; 
 In all our state from bay to bay 
 
 Where folly frets or foams, 
 'Mong all the towns that lead the way^ 
 In homespun garb or spruce array. 
 With thy broad aisles and temples gray 
 
 And heaven-aspiring domes, 
 Whate'er thy envious sisters say. 
 We find but one we must obey : 
 Thou rulest, empress-like, to-day 
 
 Wisconsin's hills and homes. 
 
 We pride in thee that thou hast will 
 In toil and art to show thy skill, 
 
carrier's address for 1869-70. 353 
 
 By justice, fame, PvDcI stealth, 
 At every turn along thy rill. 
 To stretch the bridge and build the mill ; 
 We pride in thee that we fulfill 
 
 The laws of hope and health. 
 Thou hast the blood that will not chill, 
 'Tis here each .Jack can have his gill, 
 'Tis thou that dost thy friend no ill, 
 'Twas thou gav'st birth to Gertie Hill, 
 Thou lofty star, ascending still, 
 
 To light our commonwealth. 
 
 Again a glad new year to all ; 
 
 A thousand times and more, 
 From home to home and hall to hall. 
 
 We greet you o'er and o'er. 
 For rich and poor, and great and small, 
 Let kindliness build such a wall 
 
 As never rose before. 
 We need it on our moody ball, 
 We need it when we slip and fall, 
 We need it in some sudden squall 
 
 That makes our senses sore ; 
 We need its aid in jibe and brawl, 
 We need it when sin's sirens call. 
 We need it when our ills grow tall, 
 We need it round our cups of gall, 
 
354 carrier's address for 1869-70. 
 
 We need it when they bear some pall 
 Forever from our door. 
 
 Adieu ! Kind patrons, there are those 
 
 Along your lengthy line 
 That have presented many a rose 
 
 To garnish me and mine. 
 To-day your goblet overflows 
 
 With pleasure's dancing wine; 
 When once again we tread these snows, 
 For you, dear friends, may '70 close 
 With all the joys but not the woes, 
 
 That chequered '69. 
 
 LAKE DE NEVEU. 
 
 Sweet lake, in the shade of thy willow-edged shore, 
 I love to look long on thy beauty once more, 
 For thou hast been dear in a summer of yore 
 
 To a bosom whose fondness I knew. 
 Let me look on thy dimples, thou beautiful lake, 
 Let no rash intruder my ecstasy break ; 
 I would muse all alone for the memory's sake 
 
 Of the maid I have loved on th}^ banks, De Neveu. 
 
 Ye gay little birds, come and help me to sing, 
 Lend me a plume from each frolicsome wing. 
 
LAKE DENEVEU. OOO 
 
 That I may soar far o'er the turrets of spring, 
 
 In your sky-cinctured playground of bhie. 
 
 I would gather a wreath from each valley and hill, 
 
 My heart with remembrances fondly to fill. 
 
 Of one whose affection was saintlier still [Neveu. 
 
 Than thy silver transparence, dear Lake De 
 
 Spangle, bright water ! Say, dost thou yet know 
 
 How she gazed on thy weaves with a rapturous glow, 
 
 As she nestled beside me in days long ago 
 
 With a heart that was only too true ? 
 
 Swinging far down in thy liquid embrace, 
 
 I saw the fond sun kiss thy silvery face : 
 
 I, too, stole a kiss from affectionate grace 
 
 That smiled at my side by thy shore, De Neveu. 
 
 Kings may be happy in castles of gold. 
 
 Rhymers be glad for the songs they have trolled, 
 
 And tyrants rejoice when laudhigly told 
 
 Of those fountains that manhood renew. 
 
 No laurel for me of the king, or the bard ; 
 
 Give me the green palace my soul can regard 
 
 Of thy soft mossy shore and thy flower-jeweled 
 
 sward. 
 And the lady I wooed by the l)lue De Neveu. 
 
 All ! the spell is long l;)roken, the pleasure long past ; 
 A cloud o'er my present and future is cast, 
 
356 THE LAST WOMAN. 
 
 All alone I am gazing upon thee at last 
 Where she and I gazed in the days I review. 
 My gauzy romance of existence is o'er ; 
 I wander in dreamland and rapture no more, 
 As once I could roam on thy forest-fringed shore, 
 When Heaven was so near thee, sweet Lake* 
 De Neveu. 
 
 THE LAST WOMAN. 
 
 This orb and all it ever bore, 
 
 Must couple with decay, 
 Before that lady's precious ore 
 
 Is sifted from its clay. 
 Sweet Campbell, sleep a rosy sleep. 
 And let with thine my spirit " sweep. 
 
 Adown the gulf of time," 
 To see this last of human mold. 
 When dame creation's self is old, 
 Her stormy death that shall behold: 
 
 As Eve her blossom j^rime. 
 
 A blade, that maid, a straw still lost 
 
 On nature's stubble-field, 
 A rose Ijefore the warrior, frost, 
 
 Without her sunny shield. 
 Her fear lay dungeoned in her breast, 
 
THE LAST WOMAN. 
 
 -And he that stood beside her guessed 
 
 The siin-ghiss of her pride ; 
 '■' What siren hand o'ersweeps the chord 
 'That snows thy face so deep, my lord, 
 Plucks wary courage from his ward, 
 And manhood from thy side ? 
 
 '" What tire usurps such fierce control 
 
 And wakes a heat so high 
 As melts the substance of thy soul 
 
 And sucks it through thine eye? 
 Rip off that rope despondence winds 
 Around the necks of subtle minds 
 
 Celestial as the spheres ; 
 Oh ! keep that burglar from the heart, 
 Let woman play the tragic part ; 
 "'Twas Eve invented the shrewd art 
 
 Of coining silver tears. 
 
 "No, no, my trembling lord ; alas, 
 
 That e'er that task were thine ! 
 'Tis mine to brew the last cursed glass 
 
 Of sorrow's salty wine. 
 Ha ! let us note this wild ado, 
 •Some awful wind is sweeping through 
 
 The forest of the air ; 
 Observe the ether oak in grief, 
 »See how some unsubstantial thief 
 
358 THE LAST WOMAN. 
 
 Rends off each golden planet leaf 
 And strips its branches bare. 
 
 " No longer swings athwart yon prow 
 
 The anchor chains of crime, 
 And a flag of truce is flying now 
 
 From the mizzen mast of Time. 
 Oh ! what a vast she voyaged o'er ! 
 Far, far, upon that other shore 
 
 Mortality began, 
 Where practiced once their simple glee 
 The may-quetns of humanity ; 
 But you and I are Y and Z 
 
 In the alphabet of man. 
 
 " The moon is flung upon the ground 
 
 From gravitation's back ; 
 No more she wheels her charger round 
 
 His orby, azure track. 
 Of shame, of sorrow, and of sin. 
 The dark accounts are balanced in 
 
 The last bleak sheet of Fate, 
 And miser Time o'er his green purse 
 Rails at the dying universe ; 
 Eternity, who drives his hearse, 
 
 Is waiting at the gate. 
 
 " Creation trails her somber gown 
 Along the tomb of space, 
 
THE LAST WOMAN. 359 
 
 And starry tears are stealing down 
 
 Her penitential face. 
 The wave forgets to rise and ebb, 
 The spider now to weave his web, 
 
 The timid fawn his rest. 
 The nightingale heeds not to sing. 
 The chicken flower the cluck of spring. 
 And the eagle flaps his feeble wing 
 
 Within his mountain nest. 
 
 " The ant discards his trusty spade, 
 
 The wasp her pungent wedge 
 And the lute on which the linnet played 
 
 Is tuneless in the hedge. 
 Magician Death's grim wand is stirred, 
 And goldfinch Now, the last sweet bird 
 
 In the flock of ages, flown ; 
 The lion seeks his cave to die. 
 The silk-worm seals her watery eye, 
 And sick Ambition hobbles by 
 
 A scepter and a throne. 
 
 " The minstrel siren's green abode 
 
 Breeds rapture in the furze, 
 But the one-string fiddle of the toad 
 
 Is just as loud as hers ; 
 The avalanche must have his freak. 
 And on the Alpine virgin's cheek 
 
360 THE LAST WOMAN. 
 
 He banks his drifting hail ; 
 The hurricane with all his will 
 Is whistling through his ebon bill, 
 The minnow comes from Guayaquil 
 
 To wrestle Hudson's whale. 
 
 " Medina pools a cuckoo's egg 
 
 And swears by woolly Pan 
 She will hop further on one leg 
 
 Than Rome or London can ; 
 Yon elephant is lost in love, 
 Hear how he vows to all above 
 
 That mouse must be his bride ; 
 This squeaking cricket, and this earth, 
 The pussy author of his birth, 
 Are frantic o'er their ravished mirth 
 
 And gasping side by side. 
 
 " It wrings my heart to see this rout. 
 
 Must all this beauty die ? 
 Is there no drug that can wash out 
 
 This cancer from the sky ? 
 See yonder snow-faced mountains waltz, 
 While limber J^^tna somersaults 
 
 O'er Chimborazo's head ; 
 Oh, what a friglitful holiday ! 
 See schoolboy ocean frisk and play ; 
 He would not give a Lapland fay 
 
 For all a Plato read. 
 
THE LAST WOMAN. 361 
 
 " What is that gourmand whose red hps 
 
 Are sore against my siglit, 
 That picks np Europe by the hips 
 
 In one delirious bite? 
 The whirlwind in his hot career 
 Shakes his black engine out of gear, 
 
 And checks his tempest cars ; 
 The boiling cataracts meet and greet, 
 Their brains are full of strange conceit, 
 And up the skies they madly fleet 
 
 To Avash the scurvy stars. 
 
 '' Too far beyond our spirits' reach 
 
 This drama that we see ; 
 Is this the mellowing of the peach 
 
 That grew on Eden's tree ? 
 Ah, let us here no longer dwell, 
 All, all is madness, all is hell, 
 
 Mad Nature foams and raves ; 
 The stained and pure, the damn'd and just, 
 The very dead, upon whose dust 
 The rotten ages heaped their rust, 
 
 Are leaping from their graves. 
 
 " Stay not for me one moment more. 
 
 Black night succeeds the day, 
 And I will close the curtains o'er 
 
 The windows of thy clay. 
 
S&2 THE EXCURSION. 
 
 But when thou art where thou art not^ 
 Choose on the road some sunny spot : 
 
 Flit round that grassy sod ; 
 Nor fear I shall delay you long ; 
 Whence, chanting some befitting song,. 
 Together will we pass along 
 
 The judgment halls of God." 
 
 THE EXCURSION. 
 
 So NEAR our sphere in caudal flame 
 
 Of recent years, a comet came, 
 
 That fear o'ershadowed man awhile 
 
 From snow-crowned clift to sea-girt isle, 
 
 Absorbing all in sullen gloom 
 
 To wait the world's approaching doom. 
 
 'Twas at this time I chanced to stray 
 Among the hills one autumn day, 
 And in my frolic rambles far 
 Communed with field, and flood, and star, 
 I saw a man enrobed in black. 
 The Pilgrim's Progress on his back : 
 A coral cane was in his hand 
 That service did in many a land, 
 A cylinder upon his head 
 
THE EXCURSION. 363- 
 
 Of fur that warmed the beaver's bed ; 
 
 A standing collar pearly white, 
 
 And orbs he wore to mend his sight ; 
 
 A shoddy coat of flimsy wool 
 
 That fleeced the sheep of Johnny Bull ; 
 
 His bending masts and spheral sails, 
 
 A garment putted with fartliingales. 
 
 Thus gayly robed he jogged along 
 
 And jigged aloud some happy song. 
 
 To where I stood the stranger came ; 
 
 I made my bow, inquired his name. 
 
 Observed his garb and something said 
 
 About his tube-encircled head. 
 
 Asked why he looked so spruce and gay, 
 
 And where he went that autumn day. 
 
 " To Heav'n where yon bright stars reside 
 
 My course is far," the man replied. 
 
 " This day my friend arrives the hour 
 
 When old vain earth sliall know her power 
 
 And madam nature must deplore 
 
 The luckless child that lives no more. 
 
 The comet greets the world to day, 
 
 The age of man has passed'away. — 
 
 Oh ! prize the hours that hurry on 
 
 Before thy glass of time is run." 
 
 With anxious look and earnest eye 
 
 He sighed adieu and ambled^by. 
 
364 THE EXCURSION. 
 
 For present use and future store 
 A motley pack the stranger bore. 
 The task was hard, the journey long 
 He must have food to keep him strong ; 
 A slice of ham might useful be, 
 A steak of beef, a cap of tea, 
 A loaf of l)read, a roll of rye, 
 A ginger cake, and pumpkin pie. 
 Some luscious fruit both rich and ripe, 
 A match or two to light his pipe, — 
 A thousand useful little things 
 For future use the stranger brings. 
 
 A pocket knife when he must eat 
 He brought along to carve his meat, 
 A bar of soap to wash his face 
 When he approached the land of grace, 
 And, to make him gay, and keep him frisky 
 A spacious jug of high-proof whisky. 
 When one goes far to some strange land 
 He should have such as these at hand, 
 And surely he who sought the sphere 
 Where things like these, jjerhaps, are dear. 
 
 In this odd plight he wandered on, 
 I watched his form till it was gone : 
 With high-heeled boots and crinoline 
 The stranger urged his wide design, 
 
THE EXCURSION. 365 
 
 While lips unconscious nursed a smile 
 To dream o'er whims those men beguile, 
 Who wisely flee this vale of crime 
 Before the Lord's appointed time, 
 From that plain way which God has given 
 Project an air-line route to Heaven ; 
 Then pleasure's course my path pursued 
 In sober thought and pensive mood. 
 
 But far in realms above our sphere 
 
 I saw the blazing orb appear. 
 
 In frantic freak, like ocean whale, 
 
 He foamed the skies around his trail. 
 
 His surging robes of flame unfurled, 
 
 Fast onward came the burning world : 
 
 The more I looked, the more my eyes 
 
 Beheld the troops of terror rise. 
 
 My scornful heart, hadst thou but heard 
 
 That stranger's monitory word, 
 
 Thou mightst not know an hour like this 
 
 Nor stalk in tears for deeds amiss. 
 
 O soul of mine ! where are the toys 
 
 That feed the forms of faded joys 
 
 And tempted me so many a year 
 
 To slight the truths I should revere ? 
 
 Couldst thou not heed, so keenly cold. 
 
 The fate to thee that fortune told ? 
 
 Hadst thou thy coach of prudence driven 
 
 Thou mighst ere now b.e half to Heaven." 
 
366 THE EXCURSION. 
 
 I looked again and much surprised 
 Saw that strange form my fears disguised. 
 'Twas nothing but a railway train 
 Upon the track of nature's plain 
 That jo}^ dispatched from polar hight 
 To see his lands and leave them right. 
 Go on, thou fool, along the way 
 Which tired and lone thou go'st to-day ; 
 Perhaps thy enterprising soul 
 May soon descry the shining goal, 
 Perhaps, with hope and courage high, 
 With tipsy head and reeling eye, 
 Thou'lt climb to glory by and by. 
 The man went on, but he went slow. 
 Proceed the tale and let him go. 
 
 The train slowed up as she drew near 
 The ha^f-way house of Adam's sphere, 
 And loud a voice proclaimed afar, 
 *' Free passage to the polar star." 
 The hope was high, the field was fair, 
 In skies to ride the chanco was rare, 
 The feat was new, the fare was free, 
 And I resolved the skies to see. 
 
 The steam-pipe loosed its thunder tongue, 
 The creaking Irakes were soon unsprung ; 
 Awav, awav from human kind 
 
THE EXCURSION. 367 
 
 My native hills glide far behind. 
 The engine heaves her plunging form 
 Beyond the clouds that hide the storm, 
 And, skipping round his roomy hall, 
 Old earth is but a tennis ball. 
 
 I straggled out among the cars, 
 My congees made to passing stars. 
 And smiled on friends I chanced to see 
 Upon the train that carried me ; 
 Nor wandered far at leisure pace 
 Ere I beheld, in martial grace, 
 A famous form my youth had known, 
 Who walked his round, a sentry Ion©. 
 His garb was dark, except his vest, 
 And that excelled a pheasant's breast ; 
 His face bespoke a mighty heart, 
 The highest tower of warlike art, 
 No less a soul than Bonaparte. 
 The foremost brakeman on the cars, 
 A foster-son of Uncle Mars, 
 The jest of envy's fane of slander 
 Was th' glassy ghost of Alexander ; 
 And, second in that comet home. 
 The steeple warrior of Rome. 
 But now my eyes were glad, and, oh ! 
 My soul was drowned in joy to know, 
 'Mid all the mighty gathered here. 
 
368 THE EXC'rRSI()]S'„ 
 
 Our president and engineer 
 
 Was freedom's sire, and glory's son, 
 
 Columbia's patriot, Washington. 
 
 The fireman's form was last in view; 
 
 His manly face at once I knew, 
 
 Far now removed from earth's capriee, 
 
 Themistocles, the child of Greece. 
 
 He seized my hand with joyful clasp 
 
 And I returned the ardent grasp. 
 
 We smoked our pipes and talked together 
 
 About the ride, and skies, and weather. 
 
 But here we ceased our conversation, 
 
 For the bell announced some railway station, 
 
 I looked around and saw full soon 
 
 A country town they call the Moon. 
 
 The engine stopped to cool awhile, 
 
 And purchase water, coal, and " ile," 
 
 While peddlers came with sundry packs 
 
 To sell us some of their kniekknacks; 
 
 I only bought a piece of pie. 
 
 And gla&s of ale for I was dry. 
 
 When time was up, at signal toll, 
 The wheels once more l)egan to roll, 
 And far awa^^ o'er mead and hill, 
 Our comet train was heaving still. 
 I thought of friends I left that day, 
 
THE EXCURSKJN. 369 
 
 (3f liome and country far away, 
 And of the fields, so fair and far, 
 That*must surround yon polar star. 
 
 Thus musing on my situation 
 The bell proclaimed another station. 
 They told me Venus was the name, 
 A handsome maid ot ancient fame. 
 In silks arrayed and satins fine 
 And circled wide with crinoline. 
 A single glance at her attire 
 Completely set my soul afire. 
 And sped that thrill of beauty's glow 
 Which only those desci'ibe that know. 
 The fireman was a heartless lad ; 
 His coldness made my bosom sad, 
 For our fleet train through azure sky 
 In chill neglect went steaming by. 
 E'en there within that waste of air 
 Should one delay to court the fair. 
 
 Our train moved on, lier time to keep, 
 But I was tired and fell asleep. 
 In cozy rest I slumbered well 
 Till rung again the signal bell. 
 This town was Mercury of yore, 
 A harbor on some foreign shore. 
 It seems it was so near the sun 
 
§70 THE EXCURSION. 
 
 Their water there was nearh^ none, 
 And the few pails they had arranged 
 In cooler shades, to steam was changed. 
 But the}' who flourished there were handy 
 And in its stead made use of brandy. 
 This was the town where Bacchus came 
 In mystic days of Grecian fame. 
 When barleycorn was malted not, 
 He shantied on this little spot, 
 With tipsy hopes of high renown 
 To build a hut and found a town. 
 'Tis here he still in glory dwells. 
 With magic dream his bosom swells, 
 And nectar from artesian wells; 
 Plays out the bower and ace of trumps, 
 And drinks his wine with suction pumps. 
 
 Once more the cars went o'er the deep ; 
 So I lay down to have my sleep. 
 And cozily reposed until 
 The whistling train was drawing still. 
 I think this town was called the Sun. 
 The people there were full of fun. 
 Some played on fiddles, some on lyres, 
 And some were busy building fires. 
 'Twas here I met a friend of mine, 
 Old Dandy Jim from "Caroline;" 
 We had a whiff and took a glass, 
 
THE EXCURSION. 371 
 
 And sat ourselves upon the grass ; 
 T?hen we enjoyed a pleasant stroll 
 And played three games of pigeon hole. 
 Indeed 'twas frolicsome to view 
 The sportive lads this city knew. 
 'Tis here the heroes dance and sing 
 Who once adorned the British ring, 
 Who far from their own planet shore 
 In their last box shall box no more ; 
 'Tis here where gayest souls convene 
 Presides our frank and gallant queen 
 Whose fame bestows the highest boon 
 To him who makes the best buffoon 
 "Or chants in true Cervantic stanza 
 The blanket freaks of Sancho Panza. 
 
 'They switched the train at this strange station 
 And backward turned to cross creation. 
 The port and maid were passed full soon 
 And in due time we reached the moon ; 
 Then on my native village ground 
 I heard once more the words resound. 
 They wished to rest ere they prepare 
 Again to tread the tracks of air 
 And take some fire and liquid on, 
 To meet their wants while they were gone 
 Upon the trackless region far 
 That intercept the borean star. 
 
372 THE exci;ksi()n. 
 
 When setting out to meet the sun, 
 
 Along tlie road I liad no pun, 
 
 Because there was no maid along 
 
 To play a tune or sing a song ; 
 
 But now more wise from having learned' 
 
 A lesson that so much concerned, 
 
 I sought to make my error good 
 
 And, while the hands were loading wood, 
 
 Resolved to do the best I could. 
 
 There was a certain lady near 
 
 That filled my mind for many a year. 
 
 That fledged my soul and fii-ed my dreams, 
 
 And walked with me by pleasant streams, — 
 
 I asked her if she would agree 
 
 To tour the skies along with me, 
 
 To my surprise, for one so young 
 
 She answered in a classic tongue 
 
 And set my anxious heart aglow 
 
 To hear her sweetly answer " No." 
 
 'Twas Avell for me in earlier days 
 
 That I was schooled in foreign phrase,, 
 
 And could translate the ancient Greek 
 
 That nature tints on woman's cheek. 
 
 For I had learned l.y instinct, art 
 
 That something stamps within the heart., 
 
 The Latin no which they express, 
 
 In English term, is rendered yes : 
 
 So when I heard her kind reply 
 
THE EXCURSION. 373 
 
 My heart was filled with transport high. 
 We took our places on the train 
 And in the skies I road again. 
 As we went on among the sturs 
 I took her out among the cars 
 And introduced her to the few 
 That cleft with us the- azure hlue. 
 Each took her hand in kind surprise 
 That she was pleased to patronize 
 The train he rode upon so long, 
 While she gave thanks and sang a song ; 
 But now of all the great and gay 
 That she admired that happy day - 
 Amid the famed assemblage here, 
 She saw and knew the engineer, 
 And long she viewed with visage warm 
 The chieftain's mild and manly form. 
 
 'Our observations here were closed. 
 For now in air the train reposed. 
 ' The people called this station Mars, 
 -By many known as god of wars, 
 A gruff old man with temples gray 
 From whom we joyed to steam away ; 
 And once again the train set out, 
 The steam-pipe puffing fast and stout. 
 -Around us was a lonely lake, 
 -By hills enclosed and fringed with brake 
 
374 THE EXCURSIOX. 
 
 And, swimming round those ether voids^ 
 
 A kind of tish called asteroids. 
 
 This was the dark and gloomy water 
 
 That once enshrined Lord Allen's daughter^ 
 
 As our dull ride was rough and strong 
 
 I asked the girl to sing a song. 
 
 The lovely lay was scarcely sung 
 
 Ere once again the hell was rung, 
 
 And now, before our weary eyes, 
 
 The domes of Jupiter arise, 
 
 With lofty towers and castles fine, 
 
 A famous jjlace l)eyond the Rhine. 
 
 It was not long before I saw 
 
 The place was under martial law, 
 
 And there along the picket line 
 
 I recognized a friend of mine 
 
 Whose sable hue and woolly head 
 
 Kept watch and ward as Uncle Ned. 
 
 We would have joyed this town to A'iew 
 But the train went off and we went too. 
 Along the route no scene occurred 
 To tell a tale or claim a word. 
 And I sat down to read awhile 
 That I might there the hours beguile. 
 Once more aloud the whistle blew ; 
 Of course I went the place to view. 
 Young Saturn showed his smiling face 
 
THE EXCURSION. 375 
 
 And welcomed us with courtier grace. 
 His noble brow was broad and high, 
 In some bold deed he lost an eye ; 
 His graceful form was richly dressed, 
 And two gold rings his fingers pressed. 
 The choicest one of purest pearl, 
 With gracious heart he gave our girl, 
 Who gajdy still the trophy wears, 
 A token of creation's airs. 
 
 We bade our generous friend adieu 
 And on our way sped out anew. 
 Old Herschel's form we hailed at last ; 
 In some strange mold of fancy cast, 
 A noseless knave, both deaf and dumb,; 
 Besides a leg, he lost a thumb. 
 Being stern of soul, and not impartial,. 
 He proved to be a provost marshal ; 
 The wily rogue was arch and sly 
 So we kept still and passed him Ijy. 
 
 And now the shades of night set in. 
 
 Despite the planetary din ; 
 
 But ere as yet the morning broke 
 
 Another town the bell besj)oke. 
 
 This was the place that poets sing 
 
 As water-god or ocean king, 
 
 Old Neptune, gorgeous and sublime;, 
 
376 THE EXCURSION. 
 
 Unbitten by the tooth of time; 
 A seaport town and desert strand 
 Beyond the bourn, of fairy land. 
 
 'Tis there 1 saw a stranger form 
 In liigh debate and passion warm, 
 And hector hmguage rude and rough, 
 Accusing one Jack Fisticuff 
 Of certain misdemeanors wrought 
 By Jack's new water power of thought. 
 And wild aljout some royal tea 
 This rowdy tipped in Neptune's sea. 
 I thought I saw the man before. 
 And closely eyed him o'er and o'er. 
 By sheepskin breeches he had on, 
 I knew it must be neighbor John 
 Who keeps a small shebeen beyond. 
 Old Yankee Doodle's fishing pond. 
 
 He was a man of sportive turn. 
 
 Wild in his breast did passion burn ; 
 
 In selfish mood for many a day 
 
 He kept his house in st3dish way. 
 
 And oft assailed some fistic fop 
 
 That, seeking pleasure in his shop, 
 
 Politely took a little drop ; 
 
 For Johnny's friends, good-natured men, 
 
 Would take a jigger now and then ; 
 
THE EXCURSION. 377 
 
 But, innocently taking more 
 
 Than artless confidence could store, 
 
 Conviviality displayed 
 
 In brazen-browed fanfaronade 
 
 The demon wile of Johnny's trade, 
 
 Till boast on boast, like Alps, arose, 
 
 Protruding high, compelling those 
 
 Who met as friends to part as foes, 
 
 While those poor guests from friendship torn 
 
 In age and want were left to mourn. 
 
 Yet every time did fortune bless 
 
 Poor neighbor John with fair success. 
 
 He was not much disposed to roam, 
 
 Had always fought his friends at home, 
 
 And how it chanced he strayed so far 
 
 Beyond his chosen fields of war, 
 
 I little knew, and heeded less, 
 
 For he himself could hardly guess. 
 
 Suffice to say that he got here 
 And met a match he might revere. 
 "W^ith anxious look and gaze profound 
 A doubtful crowd was gathered round, 
 Conjecturing as neutrals might 
 The prospects of a pending fight. 
 John's iron frame was large and strong, 
 In fistic glory noted long, 
 But Jack was game, and lithe, and young. 
 
378 THE KXCIKRION. 
 
 And had a frame more finely strung. 
 
 When once they closed it seemed at first 
 
 That Jack's success might he the worst. 
 
 He had received well nigh a score 
 
 Of reeling blows he manly bore ; 
 
 But, goaded by such insult given, 
 
 To deed of desperation di-iven. 
 
 And, conscious of a friend in Heaven, 
 
 He forced at once a savage close 
 
 And broke the bridge of Johnny's nose. 
 
 His triumph was so smartly won, 
 
 I scarcely knew how it was done : 
 
 In righteous vengeance did he pull 
 
 With mazy twist of fleecy wool 
 
 The stubborn head of Johnny Bull. 
 
 The vanquished hero deeply l)leeds 
 
 In presence of his sinful deeds, 
 
 Atoning for the blood he spilt. 
 
 His dark extremes of human guilt : 
 
 And his denuded bosom types 
 
 The flowing forms of freedom's stripes,, 
 
 While in the azure of his mind 
 
 Are, one by one, her stnrs dellned. 
 
 She flaunts above her dungeon Ijars 
 
 Her glorious sheet of stripes and stars, 
 
 And Jack's eternal victory now 
 
 Was stamped u})on creation's brow; 
 
 While, beaming in the orient skies, 
 
THE EXCURSION. 379 
 
 He saw his sun of triumph rise 
 And pour afar in full resplendence 
 The morning blaze of Independence. 
 
 From Neptune's strand we could not go ; 
 The road was poor, the bridges low ; 
 The streams had swelled the night before 
 Ten thousand fathoms, less or more, 
 And there within the boundless airs 
 They stopped the train to make repairs, 
 Not being pleased to thus delay, 
 I changed my mind to go that way, 
 And when Apollo's ebbing eye 
 Unloosed his floods along the sky, 
 I left my train and lady fair 
 And took a sunbeam through tlie air. 
 Well pleased to think of moments gone, 
 I hoisted sail and hastened on : 
 My ray I steered for Uncle Sam, 
 Returned to earth and here I am. 
 
380 
 
 LINES TO A LADY. 
 
 Air. Last Rose of hjunimer. 
 
 TpioiXiH our [)athway.s may sever 
 
 O'er mountain and sea, 
 Still my memory never 
 
 Shall wander from tliee. 
 Oh ! then lady remember, 
 
 When life shall grow gray, 
 In its frosty December 
 
 The gift of to-day. 
 
 If, at last, we are parted, 
 
 Our souls will be sad, 
 But the maid golden-hearted 
 
 May only be glad : 
 And though sorrow make paler 
 
 Her life for awliile, 
 There is love to regale her 
 
 And joy to beguile. 
 
 The rosebud and lily 
 
 Sit sweet on thy brow. 
 Nor become thee so illy, — 
 
 No purer than thou. 
 May thy heart grow but lighter 
 
 As life disappears, 
 And brighter and brighter 
 
 The crown of thv vears. 
 
381 
 
 MY TKL^ANT :\irSTACHE. 
 
 Once I was fervent, and buoyant, and jolly, 
 
 For tlien I had hopes that my fiincy-nursed holly 
 
 Would grow to an evergreen tree ; 
 But how futile the zeal and how iaded the folly 
 
 That ever confided in thee. 
 
 It grieves me my pride's loud persuasion 
 Hatli lured me to venture invasion 
 
 On a siren I courted too soon : 
 'Twere as well I had taken occasion 
 
 To fur the cold lips of the moon. 
 
 Thou nap-given villain ! I wonder 
 By what unaccountable blunder 
 
 Thou go'st to thy duty so slack ; 
 But, knave, I will shake thee with thunder, 
 
 For the sky of my patience is black. 
 
 I am murdered, thou sable discarder ; 
 [ will whistle the stars out of order 
 
 And give thee Fred Williams's bail ; 
 I will send thee across the stone border 
 
 To tlie poor colored martyr in jail. 
 
382 MY TRUANT MUSTACHE. 
 
 I have dewed the last drop of compassion, 
 I am shoaled in the fog of a fashion 
 
 To find thee so dull at thy work : 
 Now tremble, thou slothful Circassian, 
 
 I will ship thee to solace the Turk. 
 
 Though the sun of my pride's at the highest, 
 I Avould not upbraid with a " why is 't," 
 
 To snare the last sand of thy brains, 
 But I know, poor effete, thou behest 
 
 The manhood that swims in these veins. 
 
 I have long been aboard of thy treason, 
 I have waited thy ripening season, 
 
 Beset with an army of stings, 
 Still dreaming the feathers of reason 
 
 Would lift up thy imbecile wings. 
 
 I have toiled, I have sown, I have waited, 
 And rich was the harvest, I rated 
 
 Would grow in the wake of my toil ; 
 But the fleet of my hopes has been freighted 
 
 With a moss that disgraces the soil. 
 
 I have labored for years to unbin thee, 
 
 I have made every vow that might win thee, 
 
 Have knelt at each shrine that I know. 
 And what in the devil is in thee 
 
 That I never could coax thee to grow ? 
 
TWO IlISTOUIES. 088 
 
 Thou art worthy to danco with old Nero. 
 From Hades to trumpet the liero, 
 
 With thy tyrannous liide and go seek. 
 Is my spirit so far below zero 
 
 No clover can live on my cheek? 
 
 Ye spirits of evil creation, 
 
 Come forth from your parched desolation, 
 
 Let each be prepared with a lash ; 
 I will l)rave every ill of damnation 
 
 But the hell of a sluggard mustache. 
 
 TWO HISTORIES. 
 
 TiiK myrtle boughs their bloom uprenr 
 
 Beneath the smile of spring. 
 And gaily in the meadows near 
 
 The bright birds come and sing. 
 Beneath that Inidding myrtle l)Ower 
 
 Two children wildly play, 
 Lingering there for many an hour 
 
 In childhood's rapturous way. 
 
 The little boy, a rosy child. 
 Free as the bird that sings ; 
 
 In song as light, in heart as wild 
 As the warbler with his wings. 
 
384 TWO HISTORIES. 
 
 A little maiden holds his arm, 
 
 In sonl as light as he, 
 And fairer is her tiny form 
 
 Than the flower she smiles to see. 
 
 A few fleet years have fluttered by, 
 
 And now beneath that shade 
 A manly youth with love-lit eye 
 
 Beholds a blushing maid. 
 In converse sweet they linger long 
 
 Beneath that myrtle now ; 
 All heedless of the warbler's song, 
 
 They plight a sweeter vow. 
 
 They seek again the myrtle shades : 
 
 'Tis the twilight of their years. 
 And roam once more the flowery glades 
 
 The aged heart reveres. 
 Three little children sporting there 
 
 M^here nature's flowers are strown; 
 Recall the bliss that simple pair 
 
 In their own days had known.. 
 
 A few more seasons trundle on ; 
 
 Once more I view the bough. 
 But, dreaming of the days agone,. 
 
 I hear no solemn vow. 
 
ON A ROBIN SH(yr NEAR ITS NEST. "■iSo- 
 
 Two grass-green mounds alone declare 
 Where those fond hearts are laid, 
 
 And, side by side, they slumber fair 
 Beneath the myrtle shade. 
 
 ON A ROBIN SHOT NEAR ITS NEST. 
 
 Sweet little warbler through many a year. 
 
 And fleet airy rambler of many a mile, 
 No more will thy carols my pensiveness cheer. 
 
 No more thy sweet lays my lone moments beguile. 
 Thou hast witnessed misfortune's dark tempests arise. 
 
 While happy and high were thy hopes of the spring. 
 No more the bright dome of the azure-arched skies 
 
 Canst thou fill with thy music or cleave with thy wing. 
 
 Three times have I known the fair lily to grow, 
 
 And thrice seen the earth robed in mantles of green, 
 And as oft I have known the fierce tempest to blow 
 
 O'er the snow-covered brow of the lilied ravine. 
 But as often, fair bird, as that lily has bloomed, 
 
 I have heard with pure pleasure thy spring-telling^ 
 chimes. 
 And as oft as the earth in its shroud was entombed 
 
 I have traced thee departing to sunnier climes. 
 
oiS() ON A UoniN SHOT XKAK ITS NKST. 
 
 Wlien the valleys were blooming and verdant the glen 
 
 In the sunshiny dawn of this grief-burdened year, 
 With pleasure I saw thee returning again, 
 
 The garden, the field, and the woodland, to cheer; 
 And how deep was the joy in this blood-dripping breast 
 
 As you sat in tlie bougli of yon green ap})letree, 
 Wliere year after year you eonstiaieted your nest 
 
 And caroled sweet songs to vour children and me. 
 
 Do you hear the sad cries of your })uor little mate 
 
 As he sits on the branch where your life has e.xjtired, 
 A picture of anguish, lamenting the fate 
 
 Of the long-faithful mistress he proudly admired? 
 Lone littie mourner, she heais you no more. 
 
 The death-shade hath blinded her long-lighted eye : 
 Her songs and her labors are evermore o'er, 
 
 And never again will she wake to your cry. 
 
 Poor cliirruj)ing orphans within the rent nest 
 
 Your parent erected with motherly care, 
 How deep the distress in each clamoring breast, 
 
 And how darksome the shadows of bhghting despair. 
 Be calm, helpless mourners, and hush those drear cries: 
 
 Sad, I know, is the fate that has fallen to you, 
 And sharp is the task to repress the deep sighs, 
 
 Affection must claim for a parent so true. 
 
ON A KOIUN SHOT NEAR ITS NEST. 0(S' 
 
 Dead, songless comjmnion of happier hour^^, 
 
 Fond care for thy ciiildreii wiU vex thee no more, 
 Nor joy fill thy bosom when 'mong the rich bowers 
 
 They carol the lays which thou caroled'st before. 
 No more shall I see thee, as ofi I have seen, 
 
 When fortune bestoAved thee a heritage fair, 
 Instructing thy children o'er mountains of green 
 
 To try the young ])lume througli the l)illows of air. 
 
 Yet he who beholds thee laid low as thou art, 
 
 May hope for a j)rospect no brighter than ihine. 
 And misfortune's shar]> lightnings as rashly may dart 
 
 As they fell on this summer companion of mine. 
 But be mine, little singer, the rapturous joy 
 
 Which filled the last throb of thy perishing l)reast. 
 As pure be my i)leasure, my song swell as high. 
 
 When my spirit de])arts to the regions of rest. 
 
388 
 
 JAMES WISEMAN CARNEY. 
 
 ACROSTIC. 
 
 Joy- wasted ?( inter, crdwliog to his tomb, 
 Awakes young spring from nature's fecund womb : 
 Mur»i'ring o'er deeds, once scorning which she smiled 
 Ere death came hinting of his pranks too wild, 
 Strew.s his broad empires on liis vernal child. 
 
 Wake now, sweet princess, and from cliaos creep; 
 Indeed, 'tis meet that somewhat thou shouldst weep :: 
 Since leased his wardrobe, with thy flowery flake 
 Enwrap wide kingdoms for his memory's sake, 
 Make joyous 7»any whom thou must deceive, 
 And leave not almsless those that pluck thy sleeve,, 
 Nor lend me sca?ttly for the wreath I weave. 
 
 Choose me the ricliest of thy fresh-coned flowers,, 
 And after years moy gild this path of ours. 
 Remember all, thy pride who love to share, 
 Nor slighting one, on whom thy smiles sit fair ; 
 Each wand'ring year beseech thy fruitfulness 
 Yield him such thrift?/ robes as Jewels 26'ould confess.. 
 
 Note, — In the above, of course, the first letter of each line downward spells the name. 
 The initial letters of the three first words of the first line, as well as those of the three last 
 words of the last line, are the initials of the name. It will be further observed that the 
 first letter of the first line, the third letter of the second line, the fourth letter of the third 
 line, and so on down to the nineteenth letter in the last, and eighteenth, line, and being 
 the italicised letters, also give the name. 
 
389 
 
 EVANESCIENCE. 
 
 'Of glory pure and fame secure 
 
 How little may we trace, 
 As, year by year, we draw more near 
 
 The mystic end of Adam's race. 
 In fancy gaze on the distant days 
 
 When our fathers' lives were new ; 
 Take heed of fame, as it went and came 
 
 To glory's favored few. 
 
 The proud, the great, the crown, the state. 
 
 Have moldered into rust ; 
 And the iron frame of honor's name 
 
 Is eaten by the rust. 
 The weak and vain arose amain 
 
 To rule o'er land and sea : 
 The kind, the brave, has been a slave 
 
 And the tyrant's arm was free. 
 
 Proud nations rose, but found a close, 
 
 Like flowers beneath the snow, 
 And heroes fell, through death to tell 
 
 The patriot's ardent glow. 
 The soldier led o'er millions dead 
 
 Jlis tried and trusty band ; 
 In town and hall, with shroud and pall, 
 
 He covered all the land. 
 
390 KVAXKSCKNCK. 
 
 Proud sons of lore liavc pondered o'er 
 
 The themes of many lands. 
 And in tlie toils of seienee' sjioils 
 
 Plave mingled with its sands, 
 The seiilptor's hand is now in sand 
 
 Wlio framed the gods of yore, 
 And the forms of fame which l)ore his name 
 
 (an now he seen no more. 
 
 The painter true has hade adieu 
 
 To canvas and to pen. 
 While the gems he framed decay lias claimed. 
 
 To share the lot of men, 
 The earth and air, the things they bear, 
 
 Have witnessed hoary locks, 
 And nature's law re})lete with awe 
 
 Is written on the rocks. 
 
 The dises that light the crown of night 
 
 In heavt-n's expande(l hlue, 
 When day aj pears, in othei- s])heres 
 
 Evanish like the dew. 
 Our dearest friend ai;d nature hlend 
 
 Tlieir cold and ])lacid clay, 
 While those we love, claimed from above, 
 
 Forever pass away. 
 
TO A SIS rial's mkmdry. ;>91 
 
 The rich and great with weahh elate 
 
 Have suffered want and woe, 
 While the poor and weak on glory's peak 
 
 Have plucked the flowers that grow: 
 The things that were have perished where 
 
 Their glory saw its bloom ; 
 The meek, the proud, have found a shroud 
 
 And crumble in the tomb. 
 
 TO A SISTER'S MEMORY. 
 
 TiiK sweet conveyancer of song 
 
 'I'hat strung her harj) our groves among 
 
 And bathed her sparkling plumes along 
 
 Our valley's fiowery foam 
 Is gone with all the feathered throng 
 
 To some more sunny home. 
 
 The flowers that flecked the sunnner glade 
 ^Vith all the bloom their beauty made 
 In nature's fanciest garbs arrayed, 
 
 To-day are lying low. 
 And winter sends his cold brocade 
 
 To make their shroud of snow. 
 
392 TO A sister's memory. 
 
 Departed plumes and perished flowers, 
 Though seeu no more in your blitlie bowers, 
 Ye make us sad for vanished liours ; 
 
 Yet not for you I mourn : 
 A darker cloud above me lowers 
 
 Than skies have ever worn. 
 
 Ah ! now I feel the poignant dart 
 Of grief transfixed within my heart, 
 And in lone hall or surging mart 
 
 My joylessness deplore. 
 Oh, must the dearest, fondest part 
 
 To meet on earth no more? 
 
 Omniscient Heaven ! 'twas mine to know 
 The joys that nurse the ardent glow 
 Which life's ungarnished hopes bestow 
 
 When fortune's planet beams 
 And balmy gales of pleasure blow 
 
 To waft our airy dreams. 
 
 From me to-day that flitting star 
 The clustering clouds of grief debar, 
 While gentle airs of pleasure are 
 
 In regions far from me, 
 And, rolling round me wide and far, 
 
 Is sorrow's sullen sea. 
 
TO A sister's memory. , 393 
 
 My sister, hear the sigh to-day 
 That I would heave beside thy clay, 
 And rising winds bear far away 
 
 To other hearts than mine ; 
 Receive the homage I would pay 
 
 A sister's solemn shrine. 
 
 I know the scenes that once I knew, 
 In gloomy thought they greet my view. 
 And, sister cold, thy form imbue 
 
 With many a magic power. 
 Still pictured in the crystal dew 
 
 That gemmed the forest flower. 
 
 Bright beamed the day that thou wert born : 
 I hailed the sun thy infant morn, 
 And saw his smile the hills adorn 
 
 Far over plain and lea, — 
 Yon sun that beams to-day forlorn 
 
 And shines no more for thee. 
 
 1 rocked the willow mansion where 
 Thy form was laid with holy care. 
 Ah, thought I then to ever share 
 
 A mourner's solemn gloom, 
 Or see thy sad companions bear 
 
 That treasure to the tomb? 
 
394 • TO A sister's memoky. 
 
 I heard the last words, death-distressed, 
 That ever crossed tliy heaving breast, — 
 Thy last dark hours those words expressed 
 
 A dying sister's love ; 
 Oh, sweet and gentle be thy rest 
 
 In angel courts above ! 
 
 How many an unforgotten hour 
 
 We blessed the gifts of nature's dower 
 
 When thy little hands would cull the flower 
 
 That made the valley gay ! 
 Ah ! cold to-day the icy bower 
 
 That shades thy nerveless clay. 
 
 My sister, did thy spirit know, 
 
 When thy cheek assumed the i>allor glow 
 
 And thy stream of life had turned to flow 
 
 To a bright and better land. 
 The grief that keyed my living woe 
 
 To clasp thy dying hand? 
 
 My sister, did thy spirit see 
 The last sad token that may be 
 A souvenir on earth to me 
 
 Of thy unconscious mold, 
 The kiss affliction gave to thee 
 
 Ere yet thy clay was cold ? 
 
TO A sister's memory. 395 
 
 Thy kindred stood around the bed 
 
 Where o'er thy breast the shroud was spread 
 
 That wrapped in many a fold the dead 
 
 They never more may see ; 
 Say, didst thou see the tears they shed 
 
 Wliile gazing there on thee? 
 
 Oh ! ever will we cull the flowers 
 That fade within the autumn bowers 
 When dark November's tempest lowers 
 
 To blast their silken forms, 
 In token of the lonely hours 
 
 That tore thee from our arms. 
 
 Scarce sixteen autumns hadst thou seen 
 The golden hue and velvet sheen 
 That folded in the years between 
 
 Thy cradle and thy tomb, — 
 Alas ! for thee the valley green 
 
 Is never more to bloom. 
 
 May violets bend beneath thy bier, 
 Thy grave long share a dewy tear, 
 And pensive angels, bending near 
 
 When flowers tlie fields adorn, 
 Commemorate for many a year 
 
 Thy vernal natal morn. 
 
390 MRS. FANNIE CROWE. 
 
 May the little birds come there to sing, 
 And to thy tomb their tribute bring 
 When nature smiles to wed the spring 
 
 And fields are green and gay, 
 And may for thee their matins ring 
 
 When they are far away. 
 
 Alas ! thy life on earth is o'er, 
 
 And, though my heart and hopes deplore 
 
 To see thy features nevermore, 
 
 Farewell forever now. 
 Oh, may the heav'nly angel corps 
 
 Wreatlie roses round thy brow ! 
 
 MRS. FANNIE CROWE. 
 
 Died, March 1st, 1872. 
 
 'Neath the clay-knit sheet o'er thy lone, cold breast, 
 Sleep, lady, sleep in thy long, last rest. 
 Though the ceaseless wings of the changing year. 
 Thy friend's sad sigh, or the stranger's tear. 
 Should bring thee the gift of the yew tree bough. 
 No kindness would shine from thy white brow now. 
 
 Sweet, gentle Fannie, asleep in the grave, 
 Gone back to the realms of the Giver who gave ; 
 
MKS. FAXME f'ROWE. 397 
 
 Though they needs must feel that thyself art glad, 
 There are those thou hast left who shall long be sad. 
 " Will Fannie come back? " they sometimes sigh ; 
 Ah ! tlie answer is writ in the grave near by. 
 
 Meek as the pink that hides by the brook, 
 
 The soul portrayed in thy kind, fond look ; 
 
 All were thy friends who had known tlieo, from whom 
 
 Thou art fenced out now by the cold, dumb tomb ; 
 
 Thick as the flowers in the spring-time spread 
 
 The perfumed traits of the dear one dead. 
 
 If round the mound of thy marble clay 
 Thy sad friends gather to weep or to pray. 
 Thou wreathest no smile on thy face all chill. 
 Thy Ijreast does not heave, and thy lips are still , 
 This was not the way in the years long gone, 
 Thou welcomed'st once the absent one. 
 
 Nature is iced, and, somehow, the power 
 Is filched from the dawn, the star, and the shower : 
 Thee thy children call, and thy sisters kiss ; 
 Thou art deaf to their grief, and blind to all bliss. 
 And the memory fond of thy love-crowned vow 
 Cannot brighten the gloom on thy snow-cold brow. 
 
 Too tender a leaf for the harsh, cold earth. 
 Too grave for the mirth of its gew-gaw worth ; 
 
3©8 MRS. FANNIE CKOWK. 
 
 An early liour of thy life streams down, 
 And the cofhn plank is thy crimson gown. 
 If grieved ones touch thy dust with sighs, 
 Thy heart's chilled drops cannot fill thine eyes. 
 
 From the earth's new breast will tlie frail flowers peep 
 But thou wilt not wake from thy long deep sleep. 
 The insect will chirj), and the gay bird sing, 
 While thou hast no heed of the gladsome spring ; 
 The cloud shall grow cold, and the snow-fields fall, 
 But nothing shall add to thy dark chill pall. 
 
 Thou, chaste as the lily and fond as the dove. 
 Though many have loved thee and some still love, 
 There is one on the earth in whose sad, dim eye 
 The great l)right drop will be slow to dry ; 
 And a mother's broad love shall still shine clear 
 When none else bequeatlies thee a sigh or a tear. 
 
 Thy husband will weej) for a true wife gone, 
 Thy sisters mourn for an unseen one ; 
 Thy children may grow to a gray old age. 
 May read life through to its last bleak page : 
 Yet, merged in memory's siren stream. 
 Their mother's name's but a keyless dream. 
 
 Fannip:, farewell. 'Tis a sad, sad word. 
 By thee nevermore shall its sound be heard. 
 
MRS. ANNIE E. MCKENNA. 399 
 
 In our grief we rejoice that thou canst not hear 
 The footfall ftiint of affection's tear: 
 We fear, didst thou know wliat thy loved ones crave, 
 That thou, too, wouldst weep in thy spring-green grave. 
 
 'Twas a drear, dark hour to see thee dead, 
 To lay thee deep in thy clay-down hed : 
 May thy rest be sweet till time's dread close 
 Shall rouse us all from the shroud's repose. 
 Thy friends are grieved that thy days are o'er, 
 But Heaven exults in an angel more. 
 
 MRS. ANNIE E. McKENNA. 
 
 Died. August 24th, 1883. 
 
 I LISTEN to the birds that sing 
 
 On blithesome bough and happy wing 
 
 Above the world l)elow, — 
 As if no sadness could descend 
 To steal the treasure of a friend, 
 
 Nor adverse wind could blow ; 
 As if the bloom of summer time 
 Should never hide its fragrant prime 
 
 In a coverlet of snow. 
 
 But far away in another land 
 The tidings come of a heavy hand 
 
400 MRS. ANNIE E. M KENNA. 
 
 That lies at home to-day ; 
 Of a gentle pulse that throbs no more, 
 Of one whose storm of life is o'er 
 
 In its summer noonday raj' ; 
 That a heart once filled with hope and light. 
 The living grace of a fireside bright, 
 
 Is silent in the clay. 
 
 Poor Amiie, was there naught to save 
 Thee from the dark and silent grave 
 
 When thy life was but in bloom ? 
 What may replace a mother's brow 
 To bless thy little orphans now 
 
 And guide their days from gloom ? 
 She who could read their little wills, 
 Could dry their tears and soothe their ills, 
 
 Is sleeping in the tomb. 
 
 Beside thy corpse tliy friends have prayed, 
 ' Where thy kindred rest thy grave is made, 
 
 And thy task of time is done. 
 Eternity its pall hath spread, 
 And laid thee with the countless dead 
 
 Whose varied sands are run : 
 Thy friends, indeed, were stricken down. 
 But that they know thou shar'st the crown 
 
 Thy worthiness hath won. 
 
MKS. ANNIE E. MCKENNA. 401 
 
 Yet one by one the years will pass, 
 The flowers will bloom and the verdant grass 
 . Will courtesy to the breeze ; 
 The choristers will wake tlieir song 
 And chant sweet hymns the summer long 
 
 In mystic symphonies , 
 But thou canst never more return 
 Excepting for a sad sojourn 
 
 Of dreams and memories. 
 
 Sleep, Annie, in thy new framed grave ; 
 Thou leav'st behind but few to brave 
 
 The world, more pure than thee. 
 Let all mankind speak out the truth 
 About thy womanhood, thy youth. 
 
 Thy artless maiden glee ; 
 A maid, a mother, and a wife. 
 Thy ever stainless, peaceaful life 
 
 From calumny is free. 
 
 Thou'rt gone to the bourne where we all must go, 
 From the strife and scenes of this globe below, 
 
 Where death makes mortals even ; 
 Thou hast left the ties that once were fond, 
 Hast launched on the gulf of the far beyond 
 
 And the life that it doth leaven ; 
 Thou hast left a life of empty worth, 
 Left all thy stricken ones on earth 
 
 To pray for them in Heaven. 
 
402 (iKOHGK IIAKIXIKOVK. 
 
 Tliy heart is still and thy hrow is cold 
 That welcomed all to her little fold 
 
 Where now but sadness creeps ; 
 Wliere grief supplants the joy that e'er 
 Shut out the harbinger of care ; 
 
 Where the gust of sorrow sweeps ; 
 And the sun looks down from his throne at noon, 
 And the silent face of the midniglit moon, 
 
 On the grave where Annie sleeps. 
 
 GEORGE HARDGROVE. 
 
 Died, May 2:5kd, 1S75. 
 
 Dear friend, it is sad, while the year is so young 
 
 And the world is so sweet with its jewels of IVIay, 
 That a silence so awful should hang on thy tongue, 
 
 And thy heart keep so still in its house of decay. 
 That heart never faltered, though agony rung 
 
 Its sheltering casement for many a day ; 
 No fountain of friendshi]» more pure ever sprung 
 
 From the mystical fabric of spirit and clay. 
 
 There are many thou knew'st in a habit of tears 
 Which round thy new tomb they expressively shed, 
 
 'Oh ! tis hard to believe in tlie fllower of thy years 
 That thou art afar in the realms of the dead. 
 
GEORGL HARDGKOVE. 4()o 
 
 Ma}^ the praises and prayers of thy stricken compeers, 
 When they mention thy name, be respectfully said ; 
 
 The friend whom they honored and loved so long here 's 
 But a memory now in a comfortless l)ed. 
 
 'Tis the willow that hangs its lank leaves o'er the lyre. 
 
 The cypress replaces the myrtle of yore ; 
 Can Gabriel only rekindle the tire 
 
 Now quenched in the bosom so fervent before? 
 Thy virtues were many, and those who aspire 
 
 Among thy companions more nobly to soar, 
 Will make themselves purer, and better, and higher. 
 
 To imitate him, who, alas! is no more. 
 
 The birds are all gay in their new-budded bowers. 
 
 Far into the ether their anthems arise ; 
 They do not remember this dead friend of ours. 
 
 Whose song is now sweeter than theirs in the skies. 
 The pleasure and peace of once happier hours 
 
 Are blessings decayed we can never reprise ; 
 Let us answer our sorrow and garland such flowers 
 
 As honest regret fi"om its valley's supplies. 
 
 Thy brief life is closed ; and, though few were the days 
 That time from its store-house in scantiness gave. 
 
 Yet long were the tale that recounted his praise 
 
 Whom .so keenly we miss and were helpless to save. 
 
4()4 J. H. HOBART BROWX. 
 
 Bright, bright be the gems that we weave in thy bays^ 
 For, George, tliou wert noble, and honest, and brave> 
 
 Peace to thy soul. Nevermore may we gaze 
 
 On thv kind face so cold 'neath the cloud of the grave. 
 
 J. H. HOBART BROWN. 
 
 J):el). Mav 2ni), ]S8S. 
 First Ei'Iscopal Bishop of the Dio^'ese of Fond du Lac. 
 
 His heart is still and his face is cold ; 
 
 The tale of a lofty life is told. 
 
 ^Vllile tlnit life liut beamed in its noonday sun,. 
 
 The skies grew dark and his task was done. 
 
 He heard the voice of his Master call 
 
 From the golden throne of that Master's hall, 
 
 And the clayey gyves of his l)right soul fall 
 
 In the gulf of death that awaits us all. 
 
 Silent and pale is the good man laid 
 
 In the stricken home where he smiled and j)rayed. 
 
 E'en the skies are wet with the rain-tears shed 
 
 O'er the deathbed scene of the gifted dead. 
 
 Let the limpid eye that is painted here, 
 
 The sigh-frowned word, and the thought sincere — 
 
 The offering ])Oor of a stranger's tear — 
 
 Its tribute pay to his stainless bier. 
 
MRS. ALLIE CRAWFORD. 405 
 
 His own great gain is liis mourners' loss ; 
 The banner he bore was the christian's cross ; 
 To aid mnnkind through earth's stormy strife, 
 The aim of his brave and his toilsome life. 
 X/ong be the years ere his memory fade 
 From the grateful hearts where his sunlight 
 
 strayed ; 
 The garlands, green that their hands shall braid, 
 And calm be his sleep neath the yew tree's shade. 
 
 The gay green robes of the l)litliesome spring 
 Will spangle soon rounct the vernal king, 
 And nature's face in its bliss grow ,gay 
 "With the flowery wealth of the gems of May ; 
 But all the lures that this world may pour 
 In the richest streams of its summer store, 
 Jl^rom the happier scenes of a brighter shore, 
 Oan call him back to its ills no more. 
 
 MRS. ALLIE CRAWFORD. 
 
 Died, Sept. 30th, 1874. 
 
 " Such a one do I remember. 
 
 Whom to look at was to love." 
 
 Tennyson. 
 It is done ! The cold grave is covered to-night 
 Over one we have known in her womanhood bright. 
 The peeress of any who live in the land. 
 
4()() MRS. ALLIE CRAWFORD. 
 
 Allie Crawford is dead. Oh, how ])leak tlie distress^ 
 Like an icdcle hung at the heart, is the press 
 Recollection still paints of the christian caress 
 Her pure lips once gave to our juvcnilo hand. 
 
 It is sad, trebly sad, that so gentle a soul. 
 So far from the cheer of the family roll. 
 
 Should slee]) all alone through this dark, silent 
 night 
 Away from the friends and the dear ones she knew, 
 In Rienzi's still grove, where the chill autumn dew 
 Never fell o'er the dust of a sjjirit so true. 
 
 And the moon never shown with a lovelier light. 
 
 Can it be this })ure woman is cold in the day. 
 Whom even the stranger, so many a day, 
 
 Loved and esteemed for tlie gifts she possessed? 
 Can it be that this lady, hut yesterday here, 
 From her home in the stars should look down on 
 
 her bier. 
 And respond with no comfort to agony's tear. 
 
 That, like a keen dagger, moves up tlirough the 
 1 )reast ? 
 
 Dear lady, I knew thee in earlier days. 
 
 And always rejoiced to be heard in thy praise. 
 
 But now thou art deaf and canst hear me no more. 
 Oh ! that justice might sit on tlie silvery lyre 
 
MRS. ALIJE CRAWFORD. 407 
 
 Thy hand ever touched with a magical fire, [aspire 
 Then, indeed, might thy schoolmate all humbly 
 To honor the author whose labors are o'er. 
 
 Thy years were but dawning, when death's message 
 
 came 
 To cancel thy life, and to limit thy fame, [earth. 
 
 That else would have circled allwhere round the 
 The bud that would l)loom to a glorious flower, 
 In a sad, undefined, and mysterious, hour 
 Is shorn of its fragrance, is robbed of its power, 
 
 And drowned in the genius that fostered its birth. 
 
 A rich, precious pearl hath slip])ed from the clasp 
 Of its stricken possessors, who tremble and gasp 
 
 As it settles so deep through eternity's sea. 
 No guest ever lighted the glee of our halls, 
 None ere responded to charity's calls, 
 None ever shone in the old High School's walls. 
 
 That was purer, or brighter, or better, than thee. 
 
 As I saw thy mute casket descend in the grave, 
 I remembered how noble, and gifted, and brave. 
 
 Was the beautifal one that it hid from our gaze ; 
 When I saw thy old classmates and teachers in tears^ 
 I remembered fond scenes of the now vanished years, 
 
 When hundreds had welcomed with smiles and with 
 cheers. 
 Thy wonderful soul that illumined those days. 
 
408 GEN. THOMAS F. MKAdHKR. 
 
 The stranger this hour is a mourner as well 
 
 As the sorrow-clad hearts where thy saintliness fell, 
 
 Like an angel's, so pure, so su])reme, so refined. 
 
 Never more shall we see thee, or hear thy mild voice : 
 
 But God hath long loved thee, and made it His choice 
 
 To take thee to Heaven ; and hence we rejoice 
 
 That thou baskest at last wliere thy mind most 
 inclined. 
 
 GEN. THOMAS F. MEAGHER. 
 
 Died,. Jcly 1st, 1867. 
 
 Ah! the lulling gale of breath ; 
 
 Ah ! the rainbow of our day ; 
 When the storm-cloud of death 
 
 Deepens o'er oxir deluged clay I 
 Like the fair l)ut fragile flower, 
 
 Like the children of the bough, 
 Shattered by the thunder-sliower. 
 
 Is the chieftain broken now. 
 
 Millions wake from dreamy rest 
 
 Li the nightmare of surprise, 
 While the floods within the breast 
 
 Mock tlie levees of their eyes. 
 Not alone Columbia heeds. 
 
 He is missed in many lands, — 
 While the sporting minnow feeds 
 
 Round his slumbers on the sands. 
 
GEN. THOMAS E. MEA(iHEK. 409 
 
 On the viewless plumes of air 
 
 Far a funeral wail will ride ; 
 Dark the robes his mourners wear 
 
 As the day-god's starless bride. 
 See the sorely sorrowing bend 
 
 On his native shamrock shore ; 
 See the swell of grief extend 
 
 Wliere the Indian billows roar. 
 
 Tenant of a lonely home, 
 
 Danger's hour was light to thee ; 
 Exile bark and ocean foam 
 
 Were thy boughs from glory's tree : 
 Purple steel and crimson lead 
 
 Were the toys of thy delight, — 
 Where thy tow'ring, hatless head 
 
 Was the flag of Freedom's fight. 
 
 Rode he once the surgj^ car. 
 
 Braved a despot nation's frown, 
 Stemmed the boiling gulfs of war 
 
 In thy barge of triumph down ;— 
 Lowly was thy couch of rest, 
 
 Ah, Missouri's faithless wave ! 
 In thy chill and troubled breast, 
 
 For his death-bed and his grave. 
 
410 MARY JANE SMITH. 
 
 Favorite of the fickle dame 
 
 All desire and few behold, — 
 Bright upon the page of fame 
 
 Is the warrior's name enscrolled ; 
 Lips now mute and fireless eye 
 
 Once the bolts of language hurled, 
 Through the deep A\ilcanian sky 
 
 Of a Ciceronian world. 
 
 Lift him from his liquid tomb. 
 
 Delve for him a warmer bed, 
 You that longest weep the doom 
 
 Of the laureled stranger dead. 
 May the angels smiling sweet 
 
 Give thy soul a place to dwell ; 
 Till beyond the stars we meet, 
 
 (llorious exile, fare thee well! 
 
 MAKY JANE SMITH. 
 
 Dini), June Kith, 1.SS4. 
 
 In the joyous hours of years agone 
 She was full of artless glee ; 
 
 No warbler led his rapture on 
 More glad or ga}' than she. 
 
 Her kindly heart possessed the gold 
 That gave her many friends, 
 
MARY JANE SMITH. 411 
 
 And, though the heart to-day be cold, 
 
 Remembered fondness lends 
 A halo to the memories 
 
 Of the happy long ago, 
 Ere disappointment and disease 
 
 Had aimed the fatal blow. 
 
 A silent grave on Byron hill, 
 
 O'erswept by wind and rain, 
 Is nearly all they treasure still 
 
 Of sweet-souled Mary Jane. 
 In the rosy hours of womanhood, 
 
 The May-day of her life, 
 She, uncomplaining, pure, and good. 
 
 Retreated from its strife ; 
 Among the millions left behind 
 
 In earth's tempestuous mart. 
 Adorned alike in heart and mind 
 
 To fill a lofty part. 
 
 To each in life that knew her well 
 
 Her memory will be green. 
 Till death shall weave its chilly spell 
 
 Round his own closing scene. 
 Throughout her life beloved by all, 
 
 And cherished still in death. 
 She saw the shadowy curtains fall 
 
 Above her latest breath. 
 
412 COL. SUMNER L. BRASTED. 
 
 Poor Mary Jane, adieu, adieu. 
 
 Thy woman's heart was brave, 
 Would all might pass as pure and true 
 
 From childhood to the grave. 
 
 The spring-time flowers will blush and bloom. 
 
 And the summer winds will blow, 
 And the winter will o'erlay her tomb 
 
 With a spotless robe of snow ; 
 The sinless birds will chirp and sing 
 
 Where her lowly grave was made. 
 The radiant morn new glories bring 
 
 To grace her silent shade ; 
 But nothing breaks the calm repose 
 
 No sorrow knows, nor pain, 
 And Heaven shares another rose 
 
 In the soul of Mary Jane. 
 
 COL. SUMNER L. BR.VSTED. 
 
 Died, Fkb. 7th, 1886. 
 
 At last, by the law of God's high will 
 Thy brow is cold and thy heart is still. 
 The day was mild and the sun was bright 
 On the outer world, but, alas ! no light 
 That Phoebus flung from his azure dome 
 Could comfort bring to thy dai'kened home. 
 In thy life's bright years and thy manhood prime 
 Thy life is writ in the tome of time. 
 
COL. SUMNER L. BRASTED. 413 
 
 But not alone by the fireside few 
 
 That best he loved, and that best he knew, 
 
 Will sorrow's tear be dumbly shed, — 
 
 For thousands know that their friend is dead. 
 
 From out the country far and near 
 
 Will mourners gather round his bier 
 
 Respectful tribute to declare. 
 
 It will seem lonesome everywhere 
 
 When Colonel Brasted is not there ; 
 
 And many a stranger's heart grows sore 
 
 As he thinks of the friend he can meet no more. 
 
 Amid the wrecks of human strife 
 He leaves the tower of a spotless life. 
 When the nation's heart in its danger palled, 
 And the fainting voice of his country called. 
 When the blood ran cold, and the brave grew wan, 
 He put the garb of a soldier on. 
 In the swamps and bights of southern lands, 
 'Mong treason's fierce and blood-stained bands, 
 The cannon's frown nor the bomb's red glare 
 Could make him swerve from his duty where 
 It called for a heart that was stout and brave, — 
 And he will be laid in a soldier's grave. 
 
 As his life moved on, his honors grew [knew, 
 
 'Mong the friends and the scenes that his childhood 
 And, ere time's snows had touched his hair, 
 
414 MICHAEL C. NASH. 
 
 He had won all wreathes that he wished to wear. 
 He shared the love and he kept the power 
 Of untold friends to his dying hour ; 
 And when the early flowers shall bloom. 
 And sweet birds sing, near Brasted's tomb, 
 The sorrowing hearts he left behind 
 Will also come and a garland bind 
 To his memory dear, with a tender care 
 For the honored dust that is sleeping there. 
 
 MICHAEL ('. NASH. 
 
 Died, Feb. 10th, 1879. 
 
 The ages roll on without compass or number, 
 
 The first, and the least, and the greatest, are gone; 
 The bell of eternity wakes from its slumber, 
 
 And death in its coldness creeps silently on. 
 In the blossom of life and the dews of its morning 
 
 With all the enchantment existence could lend. 
 From the circle of many, those many adorning. 
 
 We miss the kind face of a true-hearted friend. 
 
 The tear-drops have fallen, for a liome is left lonely, 
 One being has gone to the grave unbeguiled; 
 
 And father, and mother, are weeping, as only 
 A parent can weep for so noble a child. 
 
 Sisters and In-others are strangers to pleasure. 
 
 On tlie threshold of life has been opened a door; 
 
MICHAKL C. NASH. 415 
 
 In the cold, snowy ground they have hurled u treasure 
 That back from his tomb can be welcomed no more. 
 
 Perhaps there is one who will longingly miss him 
 Too rudely awaked from affection's sweet dream ; 
 
 But away in yon Heaven some angel may kiss him, 
 Far from the rush of life's turbulent stream. 
 
 Wliite o'er thy grave be the tombstone erected — 
 Nature's stern dictum we may not reverse : 
 
 That in death, as in life, thou wert loved and respected 
 
 Was shown in the thousands who followed thy 
 hearse. 
 
 All were thy friends who had pleasure to know thee, 
 
 The young, and the old, and the grave, and the gay, 
 The social above, and the worthy below thee 
 
 Do homage and weep o'er thy ashes to-day. 
 Throughout thy young life thou hadst gleaned many 
 laurels 
 
 Thy clay-covered coffin can never confine — 
 Remarked among men as a pattern of morals, 
 
 The memory now that we treasure as thine. 
 
 Farewell, our dear friend. 'Tis a fruitless endeavor 
 The sheet that enwraps thee, again to unwind. 
 
 But sleep calmy on in thy shroud-robe forever. 
 
 Till death chills the millions thou lea vest behind. 
 
 And, when thy long trance in the grave hath been 
 ended, 
 
416 ANNA WALL. 
 
 And the dim sun of time shall expire in the west ; 
 'Mong those earth spirits with whose thine has been 
 blended, 
 Receive in Elysium the meed of the blest. 
 
 'Tis a sore task and dark — to say " farewell forever," 
 
 To think that the friend we have cherished so dear 
 Has gone from our hearths and our homes, and can 
 never 
 
 Be with us again on this grief-checkered sphere. 
 But 'tis cheering to think of the joyous hereafter 
 
 When the good and the pure may their concourse 
 renew ; 
 And till then, be our vineyards of tears or of laughter, 
 
 Dear friend of our firesides, a silent adieu. 
 
 ANNA WALL. 
 
 Died, March 2d, 1884. 
 
 It is the morning of the spring, 
 
 The streams begin to flow, 
 The birds are coming soon to sing. 
 
 And the little flowers to blow. 
 But there's one home that will not share 
 
 The brightness of the hour, 
 For death hath entered darkly there 
 
 And stolen its sweet flower. 
 
ANNA WALL. 417 
 
 The father's toil hath lost its pride, 
 
 The mother's soul is sad, 
 Though all the busy world beside 
 
 Hath prospered and is glad. 
 They did not know till now, in thee. 
 
 So pure and unbeguiled. 
 That so much airy company 
 
 Could perish with their child. 
 
 It is strange these happy days 
 
 That sorrow should descend, 
 To shadow with its sullen rays 
 
 The bosom of a friend. 
 But sadness is a feeble word. 
 
 When dreaming silently 
 Of the absence of that blithesome bird, 
 
 That never more may see. 
 
 Sleep, Anna, in thy little grave. 
 
 Where grief can never creep. 
 May smiling angels guard and save 
 
 The gift they could not keep ! 
 The rose's bloom, the warbler's voice. 
 
 Shall swell above the sod ; 
 Though sad and lone, their hearts rejoice 
 
 That thou art home with God. 
 
418 
 
 JOSEPH CRELE. 
 
 Died, January l'7th, 1866. 
 CLAIMED TO BE ] 40 YEARS OLD. 
 
 Stormy j^ears, three score and ten, 
 Providence allots to men, 
 And unfolds tlie prosi)ect then 
 
 Of His plan. 
 Forty and a hundred years 
 Rolled the world and shone the spheres 
 O'er thy triumplis and thy tears, 
 
 Aged man. 
 
 Fifty thousand times yon sun 
 Hath his course in nature run : 
 Thou hast seen his duty done 
 
 In the west. 
 Thou hast witnessed on our ball 
 Nations rise and kingdoms fall, 
 Ere creation spread her pall 
 
 O'er thy rest. 
 
 Wondrous form of human mold, 
 O'er thy ashes still and cold 
 Let us sweet communion hold 
 
JOSEPH CRELE. 
 
 With the past. 
 Let us dwell composedly 
 ■On the scenes that hurried by 
 Where that dim and languid eye 
 
 Once was cast. 
 
 It has seen Columbia rise 
 From colonial disguise 
 To the temple of the skies 
 
 Freedom won. 
 Gazed upon the livid flame 
 Of the battle's red acclaim 
 Till the echo of her fame 
 
 Reached the sun. 
 
 It has known the eagle soar 
 From Atlantic's hollow roar 
 To Pacific's stormy shore, 
 
 Westward bound. 
 Heard the scream of triumph hoarse 
 Sweep from Mississippi's source 
 To the limits of his course, 
 
 A^ictor crowned. 
 
 It has marked the holy will 
 Of the martyrs, bleeding still 
 'On the sward of Bunker Hill, 
 Red in gore : 
 
 419 
 
420 JOSEPH CRELE. 
 
 Seen the form of him who rose, 
 Fought and quelled his nation's foes^ 
 Who from Vernon's calm repose 
 Wakes no more. 
 
 Once again did it behold 
 Crimson revolution rolled 
 By the hireling slave of gold 
 
 From his sling ; 
 Saw it sweep to ocean's flood 
 Tyranny's embosomed bud 
 On a reeking tide of blood 
 
 To its king. 
 
 It has seen the darksome tide 
 Of rebellion's blinded pride 
 Spreading desolation wide 
 
 O'er her bloom ; 
 Seen the bubble burst in woe 
 By the agonizing throe 
 Of her minions crumbled low 
 
 In the tomb. 
 
 Once it saw the fiery star 
 Of exterminating war 
 Beaming over climes afar 
 
 In the sky ; 
 Till the tyrants clanking chains 
 
JOSEPH CRELE. 421 
 
 Over Europe's fertile plains 
 Froze the blood in human veins 
 With a sigh. 
 
 It has known the wild ado 
 Of the soldiers' rendezvous 
 Quenched in blood at Waterloo 
 
 By the brave : 
 Saw the warrior phantom smile 
 O'er creation for awhile, 
 Then on lone Helena's isle 
 
 Find a grave. 
 
 Relic old of other days ! 
 
 Let admiring millions' praise 
 
 Be the monument we raise 
 
 O'er thy breast. 
 Till the tide of nature rolls 
 O'er the legions of its souls 
 Who shall breast her stormy shoals, 
 
 Gently rest. 
 
 Ere the men of hoary hairs 
 On a changing world of cares 
 First inhaled the azure airs, 
 
 Thou wert old. 
 Thou hast seen their manhood pride 
 Far from years of youth divide 
 Till they slumbered side by side 
 
 Calm and cold. 
 
422 GENETHLIAC. 
 
 Like the buds of spring unrollecl 
 In their hues of green and gold, 
 Ages did to thee unfold 
 
 Blossoms bright. 
 Like the summer flowers that fade- 
 Li the chilly autumn shade, 
 Generations have decayed 
 
 In thy sight. 
 
 Let the sounding trump of time 
 O'er the universe sublime 
 And creation's solemn chime 
 
 Sound thy knell. 
 Mold of matter and of mind 
 In thy wondrous frame combined ;- 
 Prodig}^ of human kind, 
 
 Fare thee well. 
 
 GENETHLIAC. 
 
 Far yon trackless regions o'er, 
 I mark a well known bird of yore 
 Returning from his distant shore 
 
 To seat upon my brow. 
 And bearing in his beak once more- 
 
 A blooming olive bough. 
 
GEXETHLIAC. 423 
 
 Thou wanderer of regions bright ! 
 What varied visions greet thy sight 
 Careering in thy azure hight, 
 
 Swift-pinioned bird of time, 
 Far tracing in thy onward tiight 
 
 My morn of manhood prime. 
 
 Come, rest thee now, type of my age, 
 
 I have marked thee long thy powers engage 
 
 With adverse sky and stormy rage, 
 
 While weary rounds rolled on 
 That, far within thy planet cage, 
 
 Have circled twenty one. 
 
 The busy flight retard awhile. 
 Inclement hours of grief and guile 
 Will cloud thy brow and dim thy smile 
 
 Man's wide dominions o'er. 
 Ere thou shalt droop on that lone isle 
 
 AVhence thou mayst never soar. 
 
 And gay, fleet bird of mystic mold, 
 When thou art wan, and w^eak, and old, 
 Where will thy dying pinions fold, 
 
 Thy restless wanderings end. 
 When with thy wasting ashes cold 
 
 Eternity shall blend ! 
 
424 (JENETHLIAC 
 
 Weird form ! thy fate and mine are one. 
 Pursue thy ceaseless journeyings on, 
 Till the glor}' of thy plumes be gone, 
 
 Thy russet robe be gray ; 
 Till the gazer and the gazed upon 
 
 Forever ftide away. 
 
 Through gloomy mists of vanished years, 
 Illumed with hopes, beset with fears, 
 Enbalmed in joys, diffused in tears, 
 
 By fortune's changing ray. 
 On the brow of time again appears 
 
 M}' welcome natal day. 
 
 A~ fallen leaf from nature cast. 
 Another year has glided past. 
 With all the mysteries it amassed 
 
 In the specter march of time. 
 And now, to-day, I greet at last 
 
 The day-dawn of my prime. 
 
 The glorious morn how shall I hail? 
 Rend off the future's magic vail 
 And my ambitious thoughts regale 
 
 Of fortune's cherished powers ; 
 Or in my soul to-day bewail 
 
 The joys of vanished hours? 
 
GENETHLIAC. 425 
 
 I see the incandescent forms 
 
 Of fancy-framed, delusive charms, 
 
 And glory's fair, but icy, arms 
 
 Extend above my head. 
 While passion wild my bosom warms 
 
 To seek their flowery bed. 
 
 The siren voice of future bliss 
 Foretells a time more blithe than this ; 
 She sings of actions wrought amiss 
 
 In my unaspiring soul 
 And asks to stamp the sealing kiss 
 
 On the days I yet control. 
 
 The golden sands attract my gaze ; 
 That silver voice demands my praise, 
 And I repine for future days 
 
 With the pleasures which they bear, 
 And hope to win the hallowed bays 
 
 The sibyl joys to wear. 
 
 I lend my soul to happy hours 
 
 And gild its pride with fancied powers 
 
 Among the meads of fragrant flowers 
 
 Where after steps may roam. 
 And bid it seek the myrtle bowers 
 
 May shade my future home. 
 
426 GKNKTIILIAC. 
 
 But, ah ! my soul, what dreams are these 
 That fill my life with fancied ease? 
 A fragile bough to every breeze 
 
 That fancy may bestow. 
 What mean those lowly bending kneea 
 
 This cheek of crimson glow ? 
 
 The gems thou fram'st of yellow gold, 
 To-day dost thou with hope behold, 
 As once thou saw'st in days of old, 
 
 The shrine of youthful bloom, — 
 The forms which now assume the mold 
 
 That clusters in the tonilj ? 
 
 Despite the ardent, trancing glow, 
 M\ pulse and heart are beating low 
 And I am sorrowful to know, 
 
 With the empty joys they bear. 
 That all the siren queens can show 
 
 Are castles in the air. 
 
 They charm my unsuspecting soul 
 With magic draughts from beauty's bow! 
 And move beyond her self control 
 
 The once inherent powers, 
 While disappointment's felloes roll 
 
 Above her cherished flowers. 
 
GENKTHLIAC. 427 
 
 Too well I know the painted walls, 
 The golden isles and marble halls, 
 The orgies of the midnight balls 
 
 Within those mansions seen ; 
 For I have long obeyed the calls 
 
 Of their inspiring queen. 
 
 I heard them when I was a child, 
 When fading hopes my youth beguile(,l, 
 And tempting pleasures round me smiled 
 
 With a benignant face, 
 To lure me o'er the deserts wild 
 
 In the regions of her race. 
 
 Deluded child of many a whim. 
 My brightest joys have faded dim, — 
 Inflated bubbles o'er the brim 
 
 Where phantom w'aters roll. 
 Exploding in the grasp of him 
 
 Who knelt to kiss the bowl. 
 
 Year after year my soul aspired 
 To all the hights my passions fired, 
 In fancy's gayest garbs attired 
 
 With trappings rich and new; 
 Yet th' highest hopes my heart desired 
 
 Have faded from mv view. 
 
428 GENETHLIAC. 
 
 And while I see yon orb arise 
 
 To wheel his flight across the skies, 
 
 Rekindling my despondent eyes 
 
 As he often did of yore, 
 Shall I again renew my sighs 
 
 For dreams that are no more ? 
 
 The boughs are wa\nng in the trees, 
 With all the grace and gentle ease 
 That bowed obeisance to the breeze 
 
 Just one short year ago ; 
 But the verdure green that garnished these 
 
 Has faded 'neath the snow. 
 
 Sweet songsters warble on the hill, 
 They cheer the banks of many a rill, 
 And nature's verdant valleys fill 
 
 With gratitude and ])raise; 
 But the singers sweet are cold and still 
 
 That chai'med my earlier days. 
 
 Full often have I seen the bowers 
 Assume the garb of blossom showers 
 That bind my heart with magic powers 
 
 To the sunny days of May, 
 And every time I kiss the flowers 
 
 That one by one decay. 
 
GENETHLIAC. 429 
 
 Then shall I greet again to-day 
 The phantoms which beset my way 
 In all the splendor rich and gay 
 
 With which they robe their forms ? 
 Or, in my warmth, forget that they 
 
 Are flowers in fancy's arms ? 
 
 The wintry winds from time's cold foam 
 Will sweep the realms they make their home, 
 While they who seek shall lonely roam 
 
 O'er meadows bleak and drear ; 
 But I will slight the faithless gnome 
 
 I know too well to hear. 
 
 Where are those friends I loved to greet, 
 The happy hearts I joyed to meet 
 With friendly smile in converse sweet 
 
 When this happy day came round ? 
 They sleep in cold and calm retreat 
 
 In the mansions of the ground. 
 
 'Twill be full soon my lot to share 
 The snowy shroud they coldly wear, 
 And I must slumber shortly where 
 
 The still pale couch is spread, 
 And where no castles in the air 
 
 Allure the peaceful dead. 
 
430 MINNIE BAKEK. 
 
 Who knows but ere the leaves will fade 
 That deck to-day the vernal glade 
 Where oft my boyish footsteps strayed 
 
 \V hen years were speeding on, 
 My soul may find the destined shade 
 
 Before the flowers are gone ? 
 
 But that regret the sleeping rose, 
 Enrobed within its shroud of snows, 
 In dear remembrance claims from those 
 
 Who saw her summer bloom. 
 May I but claim when round me close 
 
 The curtains of the tomb. 
 
 MINNIE BAKER. 
 
 When I was young in soul and tongue, 
 
 I sang a joyous measure. 
 Both day and night 'twas my delight 
 
 To fish the pond of pleasure. 
 But now my heart is rent apart 
 
 And broader than an acre, 
 Since 'twas my hap to set my cap 
 
 For little Minnie Baker. 
 
 How sweet a smile she wore the while 
 When first I stood beside her. 
 
 Nor did I think while on the brink, 
 I dallied with a spider ; 
 
MINNIE BAKER. 431 
 
 Yet censure not my starless lot 
 
 If that I did mistake her. 
 What guileless fly could flutter by 
 
 The web of Minnie Baker ? 
 
 When I beheld her eyes of eld, 
 
 How plenty grew the roses. 
 Ah! I could float the bulrush l)oat 
 
 Of good old Mr. Moses. 
 Might evil pinch me inch by incli 
 
 If e'er I should forsake her ; 
 I'd give a race of commonplace 
 
 For one like Minnie Baker. 
 
 Alack 'twas vain to strain the chain 
 
 Of silken love that l)Ound us, 
 While hour on hour enlarged the flower 
 
 That spread its perfume round us. 
 I never knew a sweeter Jew 
 
 Nor met a meeker Quaker ; 
 You could not find in all her kind 
 
 A gem like Minnie Baker. 
 
 It seemed absurd to see some bird 
 
 Go by on liappy pinions ; — 
 No bumblebee could buzz like me 
 
 In Minnie's bright dominions. 
 
432 MINNIE BAKER. 
 
 No storm or breeze that swept the seas 
 Could raise an angry breaker ; 
 
 And it was nice as paradise 
 To be near Minnie Baker. 
 
 Alas, alas ! My house was glass, 
 
 Poor playful little kitten. 
 She might have known I was no stone,. 
 
 And did not woo a mitten. 
 I can not tell what fiend of hell 
 
 Was pleased to overtake her ; 
 And change to gall this whole bright ball, 
 
 Including Minnie Baker. 
 
 Oh ! had I wings, like other things. 
 
 To seek a habitation. 
 On Cancer's line I'd build a shrine 
 
 And wail my desolation ; 
 Procure new robes from foreign globes 
 
 To glorify my Maker; 
 Forget despairs, and hopes, and cares. 
 
 And, also, Minnie Baker. 
 
 Could I disclose a fifth the woes 
 She piled upon my shoulder. 
 
 You would excuse the words I use 
 Nor hanker to behold her ; . 
 
 Such deep conceit you seldom meet^ 
 
THE NEW year's WISH. 433 
 
 So now the devil take her, 
 What fool would sigh for such a lie, — 
 A fig for Minnie Baker. 
 
 THE NEW YEAR'S WISH. 
 
 [from the GERMAN OF Z KE.] 
 
 Yonder soul existence hardens 
 
 Still to hope for ages old, 
 Fields and meadows, groves and gardens, 
 
 All his boxes filled with gold. 
 Should we realize what he 
 On this day desired to be, 
 Then first the world was ill designed, 
 And all the laws that guide mankind- 
 Told a thousand years our story. 
 
 Where would pleasure intervene ? — 
 Naked temples, tresses hoary. 
 
 And the same eternal scene. 
 For the mighty throng uprising, 
 Of the multitude surprising, 
 Town and city compromising. 
 
 Soon the world would be too small. 
 Long as death could claim no merit, 
 None on earth might lands inherit 
 
 And the surgeon's sphere would falL 
 
484 THE NEW year's WISH. 
 
 Were all men in gold as free 
 As this dreaming soul would scan it, 
 Then alike upon our planet 
 
 All would ragamuflfins be ; 
 Since the load of him who tarries 
 None for gold or silver carries, 
 Each must share the wide decree 
 And his own good servant be. 
 Worn-out robes must he restore 
 Or wear the garbs that Adam wore. 
 He must cook, and fry, and bake, 
 Of the feast would he partake : . 
 Winter's wood must he prepare, 
 Or embrace the wintry air. 
 
 Did we know no sinful pleasures — 
 
 Here endowed with angel treasures — 
 
 Oh ! it were an evil time 
 
 For the sainted foes of crime. 
 
 Who would be a parson even 
 
 In our sublunary heaven 
 
 When the layman would be better 
 
 Than the sermon which he hears. 
 And its precepts only fetter 
 
 Where no other worth appears? 
 
 Jurists would be solitary, 
 Judges be unnecessary, 
 
THK NEW year's WISH. 4:)." 
 
 "City peers and lords of nations, 
 Debtor slaves and war's creations, 
 Officers and musketeer, 
 Drummer boy and cannoneer, 
 Men and pageants military, 
 Would be wares unnecessary. 
 
 Oil ! within our earthly heaven 
 
 Dawns a deeper, darker dread. 
 For to endless sorrow driven 
 
 Many brave would beg their bread. 
 
 Were all maidens passing fair, 
 Inward souls and outward faces, 
 
 Neck and crown the beauty share 
 Of immortfll, blooming graces, 
 
 Too familiar were the scene 
 
 Of a comely maiden's mien. 
 
 And no eye would gaze upon her, 
 Were each stone and grain of sand 
 But a gorgeous diamond planned, 
 
 No one then would stoop to honor. 
 
 If the ninny knowledge knew, 
 And the fool in wisdom grew, 
 Did no one excel his neighbor. 
 Oh ! then little might we labor. 
 Nothing teaching, nothing learning, 
 
43() THE NEW year's WISH. 
 
 Nothing blaming nor discerning, 
 Every babbler would be sage, 
 In our undisputing age, 
 And the world with 3^es and no 
 Sleepy, dull, and gloomy, grow. 
 
 Yonder soul new life desires ; — 
 Did nature grant what he requires. 
 Then first the world was ill-designed 
 And all the laws that guide mankind. 
 Wouldst thou change thy situation, — 
 
 Barren hope will not suffice 
 
 To effect the great emprise, — 
 Wouldst thou change thy situation, 
 
 Then let each reformer try 
 For the center of creation 
 
 Is the everlasting I. 
 
 Every I disports its missiles, 
 Hwift as burning planets roll, 
 Through the kingdoms of the soul. 
 
 As it seems itself, so bristles 
 Every scene we love to view. 
 Gloomy tint and gorgeous hue. 
 
 Friend, what thou mayst here obtain,. 
 What thou dost of man complain, 
 What thou praisest, what thou blamest,, 
 What thou sayest, what thou shamest,. 
 
WASHINGTON KINK. 437 
 
 Pictures not the world around 
 But the soul that speaks the sound : 
 All the evil thou canst see 
 Only tells a tale of thee. 
 
 WASHINGTON RINK. 
 
 How poor were the toils of those hoary-haired sages 
 
 Who bent o'er the billows of wisdom for years, 
 Whose childhood was rocked in the cradle of ages, 
 
 And whose fame circled wide as the paths of the 
 spheres. 
 Their hands could upbuild the Pyramidal piles 
 
 And fashion the limbs of the mystical Sphinx, 
 But what were their idols, their lialls, and their aisles, 
 
 To the silver-floored splendor of Washington Rink's ! 
 
 "When the pebbles of thought to the days of our daddies, 
 
 Sink deep in the sea of the spiritless past, 
 What sympathies wake for the lassies and laddies 
 
 Whose blossoming years in those eras were cast : 
 Oh ! how did they while the dull moments that heaved 
 
 When the world was enchained in her frost-wedded 
 link, 
 While, as yet, 'mong her millions no head had conceiv- 
 
 The Eden enclosed in a Washington Rink ! [ep 
 
4oS \\'ashin(;ton rink. 
 
 Call it be that the .stars in the sky of invention 
 
 Through all the long night of our ancestor's days 
 Refused to look down from their lofty ascension, 
 
 Till our generation shall bask in their blaze ? 
 Ah ! why through lost ^^ears do we vainly explore 
 
 The flowerbeds of pleasure in search of the pink, 
 And in the parterre of Websterian lore 
 
 Discover no bud of a Washington Rink ? 
 
 How vague were the pastimes they deemed so excelling^ 
 
 That filled the deep tank of our forefathers' joy, 
 Ere the fox found a den or the owl sought his dwelling 
 
 Where once stood the castles of Carthage and Troy i 
 They had shared in the battle and joined in the chase^ 
 
 Luxurious feasting and nectarine drink. 
 But, ah ! what a cipher was set in the place 
 
 We fill with the digit of Washington Rink ! 
 
 All hail, socitil progress ! Thou giv'st to our city. 
 
 Though far in the land of the sunset our home, 
 A source of enjoyment that epic or ditty 
 
 Has never recorded of Athens or Rome. 
 What thanks shall we give thee, majestical queen. 
 
 Of us, thy poor children, so kindly to think, 
 As to build in the heart of blind Winter's demense 
 
 A fane so colossal as Washington Rink. 
 
WASHINGTON RINK. 43& 
 
 Oh ! the kings of the forest that pined for thy plunder 
 
 Till their hearts were as nude as their branches were- 
 bare, 
 That cursed as they fell in their language of thunder 
 
 The hands that unpeopled their home of the air, — 
 Decapitate corpses in rollways remote 
 
 On some ice-fettered river's precipitous brink, 
 Or on wide Winnebago's dark waters afloat 
 
 To the city that boasts of a Washington Rink. 
 
 How far in its grandeur all others exceeding 
 
 Is the worship they hold in those classical walls, 
 How dull the assemblage religiously pleading 
 
 In humbler apartments, through diamonded halls ;. 
 In lowlier churches they kneel in their prayer, 
 
 But here where the spirit unbridled may blink. 
 Like fairies or phantoms, they flit through the air 
 
 When deepest in worship at Washington Rink. 
 
 Magnificent temple ! Stand forth in thy splendor 
 
 On the picturesque bank of thy neighboring stream,.. 
 Nor in forthcoming ages be lured to surrender 
 
 Thy spectral quintessence of vanity's dream. 
 May that goddess for whom thy foundation was laid 
 
 Repel all invasions of muskrat or mink 
 Till the last son of Adam shall sing with his maid 
 
 A dying hosanna for Washington Rink. 
 
440 
 
 MY DEAD COMRADE. 
 
 How many are the hapless homes, 
 
 Death ! whieli thou hast made, 
 How many are thq catacombs 
 
 Where friendship's heart is laid, 
 How many are the weary forms 
 
 Who plod life's lonely way 
 To those cold climes of spirit storms 
 
 That fold our kindred clay? 
 
 Tis mine in sorrow now to share 
 
 Their bosom-cleaving woe 
 And mourn a boon companion fair 
 
 Who molders cold and low. 
 Thy chilling hand liath touched his brow 
 
 In an untimely hour, 
 And pulseless is his bosom now 
 
 In nature's silent bower. 
 
 Oh, why couldst thou from Adam's seeds 
 
 Select the richest germ, 
 The only flower 'mongst many weeds, 
 
 To feed the glutton worm ! 
 Couldst thou not guide thy cruel dart 
 
 To some more guilty throne 
 And spare the deep, unsullied heart 
 
 Where wrong was never known ? 
 
MY COMRADE. 441 
 
 November's tempest armies sweep 
 
 All things that summers grow ; 
 Alike the rose and thistle sleep 
 
 Beneath December's snow ; 
 But, dark death ! thy sad decree 
 
 Just nature's laws deplore ; 
 'The thistle lives and smiles on thee, 
 
 But the rose is seen no more. 
 
 I mark the throngs of idleness 
 
 That day by day pass on. 
 While gloomy thoughts my bosom press 
 
 To think that thou art gone. 
 Ah ! I lament that vice should live 
 
 So many a cloudless day 
 When all that fate to thee could give 
 
 Was a dungeon wall of clay. 
 
 .Ye feathered tenants of the bough 
 
 Unguarded of annoy, 
 Why pour such streams of gladness now 
 
 That deep must be your joy, 
 When he who loved of all mankind 
 
 To hear you singing there 
 May never more the rapture find 
 
 That once his soul could share ? 
 
442 MY COMRADE. 
 
 Ye ruby gems of hill and vale, 
 
 Why bloom so fair this hour ; 
 For soon, alas, shall you inhale 
 
 The breath of winter's power. 
 And 'tis but meet that he who prized 
 
 The prairie blossoms dear, 
 When life's last hope is realized. 
 
 Should claim a flowery tear. 
 
 heartless man, why so rejoice 
 
 While 1 unheeded mourn, 
 If sorrow's crown must be your choice 
 
 When joy is over-worn ? 
 Full deep within your bosoms lie 
 
 The fountains of decay, 
 And you shall echo by and by 
 
 What I complain to-day. 
 
 Cold man, glad bird, and heedless flower, 
 
 Fill each yoar course of joy 
 Ere nature's autumn-frosted power 
 
 Your fondest hopes destroy. 
 For me no other joys appear, 
 
 None other do I crave. 
 Than drop an undissembled tear 
 
 Upon my comrade's grave. 
 
MY COMRADE. 443 
 
 Thougli never more thy face I view 
 
 And pale that face may be, 
 More than all worlds, my comrade true, 
 
 Is that cold face to me ; 
 And peace to me will come again, 
 
 Nor hope I rest before. 
 When I forsake the haunts of men 
 
 To ramble earth no more. 
 
 But sleep, dear friend, in slumbers lone 
 
 Where thy earthen bed is made, 
 Till the ivy crown thy crumbling stone 
 
 And the myrtle droop its shade, 
 A warmer heart than lowly lies 
 
 Beneath thy mound of clay 
 Did never in the bosoms rise 
 
 Of those who nurse decay. 
 
 Farewell, my friend, thy life is closed, 
 
 No more will you and I 
 Behold the climes where we reposed 
 
 When youth went laughing by ; 
 The birds may sing their sweetest vow 
 
 And summer flowers may bloom, 
 They cannot warm thy fancy now. 
 
 My comrade, in the toml). 
 
444 ouK ojj) JiKiii s('ii()(_)i, IN '61. 
 
 And when at last my soul has passed 
 
 From earth's material borne, 
 Oh, would that i-ound niv grave were cast 
 
 The gems which thine adorn ; 
 And when we hear the trumpeter 
 
 From mountain, tomb, and sea. 
 To judgment dread call forth the dead. 
 
 IVIav I but be with thee. 
 
 OUR OLD HIGH SCHOOL IN '61. 
 
 Twenty years ago this spring — 
 
 Busy thought doth flutter back 
 On our memory's wizard wing 
 
 To that school in Fond du Lac. 
 Yet it seems but yesterday 
 
 Tliat we watched tlie ruthless clock, 
 As it ticked the hours away, 
 
 In the high school gravel block. 
 Though the moons and years have flown 
 
 Since we all were gatliered there, 
 And though some too well have known 
 
 Of distress, and pain, and care, 
 Time sped on, like transient dreams 
 
 In its evanescent flow. 
 And, as fleeting as it seems, 
 
 It is twenty years ago. 
 
OUR OLD HIGH SCHOOL IN T)l. 445 
 
 What a gay group filled its isles ! 
 
 Ah ! I see their faces still, 
 Spangled o'er with joyous smiles 
 
 And unconscious of all ill. 
 Prudence taught them each to arm 
 
 For the life that lay beyond, 
 Lest they find the struggle warm 
 
 And in combat should despond. 
 Sunny eyes and brows were there, 
 
 Many a good and kindly heart ; 
 After years brought them despair 
 
 That may never more depart. 
 Cheeks wore bloom in those old days, 
 
 And our lives were all aglow — 
 Still it thrills me — the weird haze — 
 
 Of those twenty years ago. 
 
 Youths just launched on man's career 
 
 To disport in unknown seas, 
 Full of hope assembled here, 
 
 And they plucked from science' trees 
 Each his share of the rich fruit 
 
 Which peeped out beneath the bough. 
 The w^eak forces to recruit 
 
 'iliat were bivouacked in his brow. 
 Hearts were full of blossoms then, 
 
 Rich and rare chameleon leaves ; 
 Theirs the spirit that makes men, 
 
446 OUR OLD HIGH SCHO JL IN '61. 
 
 Alid the soul that never grieves. 
 Dreamed they not of bhghts that fall 
 
 Over all we know below ; 
 When their bosoms knew no pall, 
 
 It was twenty years ago. 
 
 Oh, how mild and debonair, 
 
 When the woodlands were in tune, 
 Were thy maidens, pure and fair 
 
 As the roses are in June ! 
 Like the flowers that flecked the vales, 
 
 In their beauty, fresh and bright ; 
 Like the minstrel nightingale's, 
 
 Swelled their voices with delight. 
 All the building's avenues 
 
 Were resplendent with their grace. 
 As the ever changing hues 
 
 Of the heart sweep o'er each face. 
 Happ3' and enchanted hours 
 
 That we never more can know 
 In the lone and faded bowers 
 
 Of those twenty years ago. 
 
 Call to-day from their retreats 
 All the forms we knew so well 
 
 As they drifted to their seats 
 At the tinkle of the bell. 
 
 Far and wide the billows swept 
 
OUR OLD HIGH SCHOOL IN '61. 447 
 
 And divided that young band, 
 All have laughed, and most have wept. 
 
 Some are in the better land. 
 Some expired in quiet rooms, 
 
 Others perished far away 
 'Mid the cannon's fitful booms 
 
 In the battle's awful day. 
 Age, and care, and toil, have rocked 
 
 Us asunder — to and fro. 
 How thy hopes have all been mocked, 
 
 Thoughtless twenty years ago ! 
 
 All professions, trades, and toils. 
 
 Have those pupils' hands unfurled ; 
 They have garnered many spoils 
 
 From a hard and stormy world. 
 .Some marched out with patriot bands, 
 
 Served their country in its wars, 
 Left their footprints in the sands 
 
 Crimsoned with the paint of Mars. 
 Useful be each life's employ 
 
 While its checkered lot endures ; 
 Little tears and much of joy 
 
 As this mortal life secures. 
 Comrades of those olden days, 
 
 Melting like the spring-time snow, 
 Who of us will live to praise 
 
 Two times twenty years ago ? 
 
448 
 
 TO JAMES BOWE, ESQ. 
 
 What saintly visions cluster round 
 
 Our young companion peers 
 When memory treads the sacred ground 
 Or bends beside burial-mound, 
 
 Of long departed years ! 
 
 When stranger waves would seek control 
 
 Of hope's uprising mast, 
 How^ far we flee each sandy shoal 
 And veer the vessel of the soul 
 
 To havens of the past ! 
 
 'Tis thus, m}' friend, through ample doors 
 
 My thoughts walk out to thee, 
 And the fountain of my spirit pours 
 A duteous stream through silvan shores 
 To friendship's placid sea. 
 
 Com mutual bliss of hours long flown 
 
 'Twas thine and mine to feel, 
 And now, as bright as once she shone,, 
 Let pleasure re-assert her throne. 
 To pay my debt of zeal. 
 
TO JAMES BOWL, ESQ. 449 
 
 Full loth would I the joy forego 
 
 That sparkles in my breast, 
 Some backward glances still to throw 
 Upon that sunny long ago 
 
 Which tliou and I possessed. 
 
 But ah ! what shades the fates decree 
 
 Since those glad years of yore 
 To gloom our haunts of jubilee ; 
 For comrades dear to thee and me 
 
 Walk forth with us no more. 
 
 And some are laid in foreign lands 
 And some where laurels bloom ; 
 Above their breasts' dissolving sands 
 All piously they fold their hands 
 In temples of the tomb. 
 
 Of those who live, ah ! where reside 
 
 Our dearest and our best ; 
 Where now are seen all far and. wide 
 The hearts that panted side by side 
 
 And leaped from breast to breast ? 
 
 E'en I from thee can scarcely share 
 
 The specter of a smile, . 
 
 While separation veils the air, 
 
 Or jeers me with the impish stare 
 Of many a saucy mile. 
 
450 TO JAMES BOVVE, ESQ. 
 
 Yet what enjoyment 'tis to trace 
 
 As one by one depart, 
 The photograph of some kind face 
 That fills its dear allotted place 
 
 In the album of the heart ! 
 
 Think not, my friend, that flattery's veins 
 
 Return the tides of youth, 
 Nor dream I dwell in those domains 
 Where rank exaggeration stains 
 
 The spotless robes of truth. 
 
 And yet how keen the joy to find. 
 
 In whirlpool life below, 
 A friend, like thee, whose kingly mind 
 Proclaims thee one of human kind 
 
 That thousands yet shall know. 
 
 Through many an evanescent hour 
 
 That time around me fiung, 
 'Twas mine in childhood's elfin bower 
 To cull the bloom of friendship's flower 
 From wreathes thy fingers strung. 
 
 And when thy years the hight had won 
 
 Where light of manhood glows. 
 What joy to see thy form uprun 
 That, like the heaven-ascending sun, 
 Beamed brighter as it rose. 
 
CELIA. 451 
 
 Behold the bough of lore still droops 
 
 With honeycombs of dew 
 Where once 'twas thine to lead the troops 
 Of all the gay, convening groups 
 
 Thy toilsome childhood knew. 
 
 And, ah ! though yet they spin the line 
 
 With all the powers of age, 
 Thy young companions when they shine, 
 Must turn them back te thee and thine, 
 
 To find their brightest page. 
 
 CELIA. 
 
 Let me dream of the days of my childhood again. 
 
 Let me weep for companions that meet me no more; 
 Again 1 would wander through grove and through glen 
 
 In those magical isles where 'I rambled of yore. 
 Poor Celia ! How sweet were thy moments and mine 
 
 As we strolled in the meadow or stood by the mill, 
 No thought of the future, no broad mountain pine, 
 
 Ever darkened the orb of thy life's azure hill. 
 
 Thy soul was as bright as a smile of the sun, 
 And as pure as the tear in an angel's blue eye, 
 
 A spirit more fair than my sanctified one 
 Will never be seen on this shore of the sky. 
 
452 NO MORE. 
 
 But thy silk of existence was wasted too soon 
 By the moth of disease and the mildew of care, 
 
 And when thou wert sought in the calmness of noon 
 The dew of the morning had melted to air. 
 
 Too dimly the star of my bosom goes down, 
 
 Too wildly the tides of my bitterness flow, 
 The hills of my fancy are yellow and brown, [blow. 
 
 Long, long ere the bleak winds of autumn should 
 Ah ! Celia, I learned when I knew thou wert dead 
 
 That grief, like the field, has a season to bloom, 
 For my heart ever buds as it bends o'er the bed 
 
 Of the lilies and daisies that shingle thy tomb. 
 
 NQ MORE. 
 
 Frail as flowers of summer bloom, 
 
 Or flake of falling snow. 
 Sad memory paints to pensive gloom 
 
 The scenes of long ago, 
 And ever wails tlie parting doom 
 
 Of all we now deplore 
 That slumbers in the haunted tomb 
 
 Of time that is no more. 
 
NO MORE. 453 
 
 As fleeting as the flakes and flowers, 
 
 Or robe of morning dew, 
 On snow-crowned hill or summer bowers 
 
 Departing from our view, 
 When sunbeams glow and tempest lowers 
 
 And days of bloom are o'er, 
 Were those sweet scenes of sunn}^ hours 
 
 That we shall see no more. 
 
 As tender as the lily's brow 
 
 That angels' smiles unfold, — 
 As glowing as the grandeur now 
 
 In evening's crown of gold. 
 Around some form our souls endow 
 
 With more than love may store, 
 Was manhood plight or virgin vow 
 
 To one that is no more. 
 
 Dear as the moonbeam's feeble ray 
 
 Above a darkened sky, 
 When mists enrobe the parting day 
 
 And howling winds are high, 
 To guide the wand'rer led astray 
 
 While clouds inclement pour, 
 Is memory tracing far away 
 
 Some home that is no more. 
 
454 NO MORE. 
 
 Mild as the rainbow's fading grace, 
 
 Or shade of summer cloud, 
 The vision round some hallowed place 
 
 Of bridal or of shroud, 
 While memory's ftiithful pencils trace 
 
 In scenes we still adore 
 The sunlight of some happy face 
 
 That we shall see no more. 
 
 As transient as the bubble seen 
 
 On ocean's surging wave, 
 As changing as the ocean sheen 
 
 Aliove an ocean grave, 
 We hail far down some pallid mien 
 
 Beneath the billow's roar, 
 Or weep beside the earth-clod green 
 
 O'er hearts that are no more. 
 
 Like autumn leaves tliat strew the ground 
 
 When fields are bleak and l)are. 
 Or viewless atoms floating round 
 
 Wide wilderness of air, 
 The countless millions coffiii-bound 
 
 That once our evils bore 
 Who swell the weeping-willow mound 
 
 (_)f those that are no more. 
 
THE PRIVATE SOLDIER. 455 
 
 But brighter than the summer sun 
 
 When skies are mild and fair 
 And half his cloudless race is run 
 
 In the azure waste of air, 
 Each crown the kind-departed won 
 
 Beyond our stormy shore 
 That gems the brow of virtue's son 
 
 When ages roll no more. 
 
 THE PRIVATE SOLDIER. 
 
 My country! Remember thy chieftains who bore 
 The brunt of thy battles that thunder no more ; 
 Remember the leaders and blazon each name 
 High on the towers of thy limitless fame. 
 They deserve that thou l)uildest the urn and the bust 
 Above the green sheet that encloses their dust ; 
 But never, fair land, till thy glory decline. 
 Forget the brave soldier who fought in the line. 
 
 While the high-titled warrior exultingly led, 
 'Twas the plain private soldier that suffered and bled ; 
 'Twas he, where the torrent of slaughter was poured, 
 That leveled the musket and wielded the sword ; 
 That stood on no shallow nor empty pretence, 
 But bared his brave breast in his country's defense. 
 
456 THK PRIVATE SOLDIEK. 
 
 That the silk-woven stars of his nation might shine 
 In the sky of the private that shot in the hne. 
 
 The stout private soldier pursued his stern trade, 
 - He watched on the picket and rode on the raid ; 
 He waded through streams in their pitiless flow, 
 And he slept on the ground in a blanket of snow : 
 Through illness and health, as his destiny carved, 
 In the pestilent prison he sutfered and starved ; 
 He stood in the trenches, he delved in the mine, 
 The plain private soldier that marched in the line. 
 
 It was he that confronted the frown of disease, 
 The miasma of swamps, and the surf of the seas. 
 The desolate marches o'er mountain and plain, 
 In the red sultry sun and the cold sleety rain : 
 It was he that far off from the home of his pride, 
 From the smile ol^his sweetheart, the kiss of his bride, 
 Who could hear his sad comrades, all helpless repine, 
 For the poor bleeding soldier that fell in the line. 
 
 The strife and the shock of the onset he Ijore, 
 Far out on the ocean, and high on the shore ; 
 Where dangers descended in desolate flocks, 
 And the breakers of battle dashed liberty's rocks; 
 Where the black iron throats of artillery roared. 
 Where the hot leaden tempest of carnage was poured. 
 
THE PRIVATE SOLDIER. 457 
 
 It was he that far off from tlie liome of bis pride, 
 From the smile of his sweetheart, the kiss of his bride. 
 Who could hear his sad comrades, all helpless, repine 
 For the poor bleeding soldier that fell in the line. 
 
 And it was not the guerdon of glory or gold 
 
 That made him a hero invincibly bold, 
 
 That made him blaze out, like a rainbow, to bless 
 
 In the stormiest hours of his country's distress. 
 
 It was duty alone in his bosom that glowed 
 
 To discharge to that country the debt which he owed. 
 
 This alone was the lodestar, the sanctified shrine. 
 
 Of the patriot private that cheered in the line. 
 
 The strife and the shock of the onset he bore, 
 Far out on the ocean, and high on the shore. 
 Where dangers descended in desolate flocks. 
 And the breakers of battle dashed liberty's rocks. 
 Where the black iron throats of artillery roared, 
 Where the hot leaden tempest of carnage was poured, 
 Along the low vale, or beside the dark pine, [line. 
 'Twas the brave hearted private that charged in the 
 
 Triumphant Columbia! Time will engage 
 To honor thy captains on history's page : 
 But take to thy bosom that child of thine own, — 
 The poor private soldier, unnamed and unknown. 
 
458 THOMAS F. MCkENiSTA. 
 
 'Neath the rainbow of peace in prosperity's hours 
 O'ercircle the vaneys and gather the flowers, 
 The hohest wreaths of sad love to entwine 
 For thy brave private soldier that died in the line. 
 
 THOMAS F. MeKENNA. 
 
 DiKD Dec. 21x1, 1s74, Aokd 21. 
 E'en for those who read its page 
 To a lorn and palsied age, 
 While it slowly disappears 
 O'er the surge of cares and tears; — 
 Who have worn its edges bare 
 With the brambles of despair ; 
 E'en to those with want and woe 
 Hand in hand that ever go, 
 Who, 'neath fortune's frozen frown 
 Lay the long-borne burden down, — 
 Save a small and starless few, 
 Sad to all its life's adieu. 
 
 But oh ! bitter, sorrow-fraught, 
 Is the blackness of the thought, 
 When the dark destroyer's art 
 Chills the soul and spans the heart; 
 Where the billows heave and roll 
 Through a bright aspiring soul, 
 
THOMAS F. MCKENNA. 459 
 
 And the wing of hope is high 
 In a broad undarkened sky. 
 Ere the sun's undimmed ascent, 
 Pauses in the firmament. 
 
 Ere thy star might fully shine, 
 
 Or thy soul explore the mine 
 
 Which, thy comrades all could see. 
 
 Glory had in store for thee ; 
 
 At the budding of the flower. 
 
 In an ill-starred frosty hour. 
 
 While thy spring was bright and green, 
 
 Death o'erspanned the hopeful scene, 
 
 And the fetters of thy bier 
 
 Checked alone a high career. 
 
 Fortune's wings had found thee not; 
 Rising from a lowly cot, 
 Hour by hour and day by day, 
 Thou didst toil thy rugged way ; 
 And, although thy life was brief, — 
 But a tender April-leaf, — 
 Yet with proud unbending will, 
 Struggling up the thorny hill, 
 Thy companions saw with pride 
 Worth and knowledge grace thy tide, 
 Till thou won'st an honored place 
 'Mongst the brightest of thy race. 
 
460 THOMAS F. MCKENNA. 
 
 When thy toils were backward cast, 
 And the darkUng clouds had passed, 
 When the world was steeped in glee,- 
 All the future Ijright for thee, — 
 When thy beams of fortune shone 
 O'er an ever broadening zone ; 
 Perad venture, it was well 
 That eternal silence fell 
 O'er the brightness of thy life ; 
 Ere the bitterness of strife. 
 Or of cares, and toils, and tears. 
 Deepened with advancing years ; 
 Ere the scenes of storm and sleet 
 Those surviving thee must meet. 
 
 Oh ! we hope that nothing mars 
 Thy repose among the stars, 
 That thou shar'st a purer glow 
 Than our earthly life can know. 
 That the Being, great and grand. 
 Who all things in wisdom planned, 
 Gives to thee a mead more dear 
 Than could grace thy triumph here. 
 
 AVhere deception's minions meet 
 And her angry billows beat, 
 We have seen thine eyelids close 
 
CALVARY CEMETERY. 461 
 
 On the world and all its woes, 
 On its gilded hollowness, 
 On its darkness and distress. 
 
 May the angels vigil keep 
 O'er thy everlasting sleep, 
 And thy spirit blithesome be 
 All throughout eternity. 
 
 CALVARY CEMETERY. 
 
 Lines on its Dedication, at Fond du Lac, Wis., Oct. 20, '89. 
 
 Oh, solemn be the words we say 
 This glorious bright October day ! 
 The omnipresent eye of God 
 Surveys this consecrated sod. 
 We wear no crown of sorrow now, 
 No grief is throned upon the brow ; 
 We come to-day with reverent tread 
 To found a city for the dead, 
 To choose a spot where by and by 
 Our ashes cold, perchance, shall lie. 
 
 Full oft within this field serene 
 AVill sorrow come to dim the scene ; 
 The hearse, the coffin, and the bier. 
 Will come with us to gather here, 
 
462 CALVARY CEMETERY. 
 
 And many tombs shall cluster round 
 The summit of this burial ground ; — 
 Where thousands come with bosoms brave, 
 And meet to-day without a grave. 
 
 The long and weary pilgrimage, 
 The stooping form of weak old age, 
 And manhood in his stalwart prime 
 Shall droop before the scythe of time ; 
 The guileless child, with fading eye 
 Shall lay its little playthings by, 
 And, nevermore to shed a tear, 
 Will fold its arms in slumber here. 
 
 The vain, who deem tlieir deeds endure, 
 
 The lowly, suffering, cheerless poor, 
 
 The bright young maid whose tear will flow; 
 
 To part from all she loved below; 
 
 The bridegroom from the wedding feast. 
 
 Physician, lawyer, merchant, priest. 
 
 Shall lonely here be laid away 
 
 And calmly wait the judgment day. 
 
 Here on each grave along the line 
 The sun will beam, the stars will shine. 
 The sweet flowers grace advancing spring. 
 Some briglit bird come his song to sing; 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS. 463 
 
 And o'er the sod that hides us all, 
 The cloud will float, the snowflake fall, 
 The fitful hreeze of summer blow, 
 And winter weave his robes of snow. 
 
 But when mankind forbears to chide, 
 When we have lived, and wept, and died, 
 When all our toils of life are o'er. 
 When we can meet with men no more, 
 When th' last fair form has passed away 
 Of all who tread these grounds to-day : 
 Oh ! that some friend will kneel and weep 
 Among the graves where we shall sleep, 
 And ask of Heaven the gracious claim 
 To keep our souls in mercy's name. 
 
 ONE HUNDRED YEARS. 
 
 Prep.ired by request, and read April 30, 1889, at Fand da Lac.Wis., on the occasion 
 of the centennial celebration of the presidential inauguration of Geo. Washington. 
 
 Proud was the scene in the century gone 
 On that April day of our nation's dawn 
 When freedom smiled with a heavenly grace 
 On the natal liour of a sturdy race, 
 On the gathered host of a brilliant band. 
 The founders brave of a state so grand. 
 To that pregnant hour of hopes and cheers. 
 The heart beats back through a hundred years. 
 
464: ONE HUNDRED YEARS. 
 
 Let memory sweep to that glorious star 
 AVho was " first in peace and first in war ; " 
 Who soared so high, but who left behind 
 A patriot's name that exalts mankind ; 
 That beams o'er the world with a light sublime, 
 iVnd matchless shines in the sky of time ; 
 Who assumed the trust of his country's sway, 
 One hundred years ago to-day. 
 
 Seasons have passed in their flight since then, 
 And death spread his wings in the homes of men. 
 The statesman, the soldier, the pure, and the 
 
 brave, — 
 Nobody halts on the march to tlie grave, — 
 And the hallowed dust of the chieftain sleeps 
 Where the somber blue Potomac sweeps. 
 Where the breezes blow and the lilacs bloom. 
 And silence sits on Vernon's tomb. 
 
 Serene and grand that chieftain stood 
 Before the surging multitude, 
 Enveloped new with freedom's flame. 
 That saw his face and loved his name ; 
 That sang the anthems of the free. 
 That pealed the chimes of liberty. 
 That cheered and marched in proud array 
 One hundred years ago to-day. 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS. 465 
 
 Where are those moving thousands now ? 
 
 Not one remains to pledge a vow 
 
 In memory of his comrades gone, 
 
 Or speak the name of Washington. 
 
 We look for tlie smiles that once they wore, 
 
 But the search is vain. They will smile no more. 
 
 A¥e call the roll, luit none respond, — 
 
 All dwellers now in the dark heyond. 
 
 There were white souls there as the stainless snow 
 Tliat immortal day of the long ago ; 
 There were nursing bahes in that day's parades, 
 And stalwart men and beauteous maids. 
 Mothers, and sons, and wives, and sii-es. 
 Wrapped in the glow of the patriot's fires. 
 And heroes of many a gliastly atfray. 
 One hundred years ago to-day. 
 
 One l)y one to the grave they have filed — 
 The stalwart man, and the sinless child ; 
 But the land they loved and the tlag they bore 
 Are as l)right to-day as they seemed of yore. 
 The same sun shines in the dome above. 
 The same God reigns on His throne of love, 
 And millions bow^ in reverent thought 
 Of the glorious deeds that our fathers wrought. 
 
4G6 ONE HUNDRED YEARS. 
 
 We are proud, indeed, of a da}^ like this. 
 'Tis a hallowed scene that we would not miss. 
 Where the christian priest and the exiled Jew, — 
 All who have souls to their country true, — 
 Where each may kneel at his chosen shrine, 
 And, looking up to the Throne Divine, 
 Give heartfelt praise for a gift so grand 
 As our country's sire and his patriot band. 
 
 Since the fateful hour of our nation's birth, — 
 Fair, graceful queen of the climes of earth. 
 Dark hours came with a bittei> flood 
 Of human tears and liuman blood, 
 Carnage lit her Ephesian dom^s. 
 And sorrow swept o'er a million homes. 
 Death stalked abroad in the dreadful van, 
 Destruction fell upon helpless man : 
 Bat the fierce cloud passed in its swath of fiame, 
 The foeman fell and the triumph came ; 
 And that same flag which our fathers bore. 
 In the howling storm and the battle's roar. 
 Preserved by the blood of countless bands. 
 By loyal hearts, and by valiant hands, 
 Triumphant waves where the angels pray. 
 And adorns this lowly stage to-day. 
 
 I thank thee, Heaven ! for thy bounteous hand. 
 Thy blessings showered on this great free bmd. 
 
ONE HUNDRED YEARS. 467 
 
 Wherever history's eye explores 
 
 The mountain's side or the ocean's shores, 
 
 From out the misty shadows cast 
 
 O'er all the realms of the silent past, 
 
 Where'er yon kindling sun doth shine, 
 
 There is no happier land than mine. 
 
 One hundred years from this buoyant day 
 Will witness the scene of a grand array ; 
 There is no one here who will triumph there, 
 For we will be far from the haunts of care. 
 Oh ! Proud be the swell of our country's tide. 
 Her armies shout and her navies ride, 
 Though our brows be cold and our lij^s all dumb. 
 In the hundred years that is next to come. 
 
 Our native land ! from sea to sea 
 Thy gallant sons are proud of thee. 
 Oh ! thou canst never meet a foe 
 That shall have power to lay thee low ; 
 Though treason shout its wild alarms, 
 Though all the world leap out in arms, 
 While a freeman's sword shall lead the van 
 And Heaven looks down on the deeds of man. 
 
 Thy children's love thy life secures ; 
 And while yon firmament endures. 
 While one bright star of all remains, 
 
468 ONE HUNDRED YEARS. 
 
 And the christian's God of mercy reigns; 
 While this frail earth as freight shall bear 
 One human soul its chance to share; 
 While future millions live to pray 
 And celebrate this glorious day ; 
 Columbia ! may thy glory climb 
 Far up the mighty spjre of time, 
 Thy proud career but only pause 
 When eartii be crushed in nature's laws ; 
 Each century new strength reveal, 
 And thy eternal progress wheel, 
 Co-heiress of the rolling spheres, — 
 Ten thousand times a hundred years. 
 
NOTES. 
 
 NOTE 1.— ERRORS. 
 
 It will, no doubt, ba observed that occasional errors, 
 orthographical and grammatical, as well as errors in 
 punctuation, have crept into the text. It was the 
 author's intention to have taken these up seriatim and 
 have them connected in an errata to this volume ; but, 
 inasmuch, as the present edition is limited, and more 
 especially on account of his inability to spare the neces- 
 sary time; and inasmuch, also, as its publication has al- 
 ready been unusually delayed ; he has concluded to leave 
 the subject as it i-. Suffice it to say, without being 
 harshly reminded of those inaccuracies, — patent as 
 many of them are, — that no one can be more painfully 
 conscious of their presence than he is himself. With 
 more time at his command, many of them could, and 
 undoubtedly would, be avoided or removed. For the 
 present, with this simple remark, the entire subject is 
 dismissed ; not, however, without expressing a hope 
 that his readers will be as indulgent as they may. 
 
 NOTE 2.— THE PIONEER. Page 13. 
 
 "Although the acquaintance of the nations of Europe 
 with the western part of the earth is the main subject of 
 our consideration in this section, and that, around which 
 the numerous relations of a more correct and a grander 
 view of the universe are grouped, we must yet draw a 
 
470 NOTES. 
 
 strong line of separation between the undoubted first 
 discovery of America, in its northern portions, by the 
 Northmen, and its subsequent re-discovery; in its trop- 
 ical regions. Whilst the Caliphate still flourished un- 
 der the Abassides at Bagdad, and Persia was under the 
 dominion of the Samanides, whose age was so f ivorable 
 to poetry, America was discovered in the year 1000 by 
 Leif, the son of Eric the Red, by the northern route, 
 and as far as 41 degrees and 30 minutes north lati- 
 tude. The first, although accidental, incitement 
 towards this event emanated from Norway. Towards 
 the close of the ninth century Naddod was driven 
 by storms to Iceland whilst attem})ting to reach 
 the Faroe Islands which had already been visited by 
 the Irish. The first settlement of the Northmen was 
 made in 875 by Ingolf . Greenland, the eastern penin- 
 sula of a land which appears to be everywhere separated 
 Ijy the sea from America Proper, was early seen, al- 
 though it was first peopled from Iceland a hundred 
 years later (983). The colonization of Iceland, which 
 Naddod first called Snowland, (Snjoland) was carried 
 tlirough Greenland in a southwestern direction to the 
 New Continent." ***** 
 
 "Notwithstanding the proximity of the opposite 
 shores of Labrador (Helluland it Mikla), 125 years 
 elapsed from its first settlement of the Northmen in Ice- 
 land to Leif s great discovery of America. So small 
 were the means possessed by a noble, enterprising, but 
 not wealthy race for furthering navigation in these re- 
 mote and dreary regions of the earth. The littoral 
 tracts of Vinland, so called by the German 'J'yrker from 
 the wild grapes that were found there, delighted its dis- 
 coverers by the fruitfulness of the soil, and the mild- 
 ness of its climate, when compared with Iceland and 
 Greenland. This tract, which was named by Leif the 
 
NOTES. 471 
 
 "Good Vinland" (^^inland it goda), comprised the coast 
 line, between Boston and New York, and parts of 
 the present states of Massachusetts, Rhode Island, and 
 Connecticut, between the parahels of hititude Civita 
 Vecchia, and Terracina, wliich, liowever, correspond 
 there only to mean annual temperatures of 47.8 deg. 
 and 52.1 deg. This was tlie principal settlement of the 
 Northmen. The colonists had often to contend with a vei y 
 warlike race of Esquimaux, who then extended further 
 to the south under the names of Skralinger. The first 
 Bishop of Greenland, Eric Upsi, an Icelander, undertook, 
 in 11 21, a christian mission to Vinland; and the name 
 of the colonized country has been discovered in old 
 national songs of the inhabitants of the Faroe Islands. 
 "The activity and Ijold spirit of enterprise manifested 
 by the Greenland and Icelandic adventurers are proved 
 by tlie circumstance that, after they had established 
 settlements south of 41 degrees and 80 minutes north 
 latitude, they erected there, boundary pillars on the 
 eastern shores of Baffin's Bay at the latitude of 72 de- 
 grees and 55 minutes on one of the Woman's Islands, 
 north-west of the present most northern Dan- 
 ish colony of Upernavick. The Runic descriptions, 
 which were discovered in the autumn of 1824, according 
 to Rask and Fimi Magnusen, the date 1135. From this 
 eastern coast of Baffin's Bay, more than 600 years be- 
 fore the bold expeditions of Parry and Ross, the colon- 
 ists very regularly visited Lancaster ^ound and a part 
 of Barrow's Straits for the puj-pose of fishing. The lo- 
 cality of the fishing ground is very definitely described, 
 and Greenland priests, from the bishopric of Gardar, 
 conducted the first voyage of discovery (1226). This 
 north-western summer station was called Kroksfjarclar 
 Heath. Mention is even made of the driftwood (un- 
 
472 ^"OTES. 
 
 doubtedly from Siberia) collected there, and of the abun- 
 dance of whales, seals, walruses, and sea bears. 
 
 "Certain accounts of the iiitercourse maintained be- 
 tween the extreme North of iCurope, or between Green- 
 land and Iceland with the American Continent, prop- 
 erly so called, do not extend beyond the 34th century. 
 In the year of 1347, a ship was sent from Greenland to 
 Markland (Nova Scotia) to collect building timber and 
 other necessary articles. On the return yoyage the 
 ship encountered heavy storms, and was obliged to take 
 refuge at Straumfjord, in the west of Iceland. These 
 are the latest accounts preserved to us by ancient Scan- 
 dinavian authorities of the visits of Northmen to Am- 
 erica. 
 
 "We have hitherto kept strictly on historical gi'ound 
 By means of the critical and highly praiseworthy efforts 
 01 Christian Kafn and of the Royal Society of the North- 
 ern Anticparies at Copenhagen, the sagas and narra- 
 tives of the voyages of the Northmen to Helluland 
 (Newfoundland)toMarkland (the mouth of the St. Law- 
 rence and Nova Scotia) and to Vinland (Massachusetts) 
 have been separately printed, accompanied by able 
 commentaries. The lengtli of the voyage, the direc- 
 tion of its course, and the times of the rising and set- 
 ting of tlie sun are all minutely detailed." 
 
 The foregoing extract is taken fi'om Ilundjoldt's Cos- 
 mos, Vol. 2, pp. G03 to G07. 
 
 This composition undertakes to give some of the in- 
 cidents in the life of one of thos« early adventurers 
 who lived and died hundreds of yeai's ago within the 
 very same territory now end)raced in the limits of the 
 New England States. 
 
NOTES. 473 
 
 NOTE 3.— IRENA'S LESSON. Page 54. 
 
 Constantinople was overthrown by Sultan Moham- 
 met II, May 29th, 1453. The Byzantme empire which 
 had borne and preserved through the dark ages the 
 light of letters and civilization, was prostrate at the 
 feet of the invading and conquering barbarians. On 
 April 6th, 1453, the Turks appeared before the city Math 
 an army of 400,000 men. Constantine XIII, the last 
 Byzantine Emperor, lost his life, heroically defend- 
 ing the breach. The city, on its overthrow, was given 
 over to rapine and the larger immber of its inhabitants 
 sold into slavery. There was one christian lady, among 
 the unfortunate residents of the ill-fated city, who came 
 under the notice of the Mohammedan conqueror, and 
 whom he not only spared from the general humiliation 
 and persecution of the conquered people, but whom he 
 placed in his court, and on whom he bestowed the high- 
 est favors and most distinguished honors. Indeed her 
 influence in his court, and her ascendency over him 
 were so great, as to become noticeable to his subjects, 
 and obnoxious to them. They could not endure that a 
 christian captive should have more influence with their 
 monarch than almost any other person of even his own 
 creed in all his dominions. Finally, after her long sup- 
 remacy, to quell the the dissatisfaction of his people, he 
 resolved to make a public sacrifice of his favorite, 
 and she was, accordingly, beheaded with his own hand. 
 Such is a brief outline of the incidents which furnish 
 the subject of " Irena's Lesson." 
 
 NOTE 4.— HORATIO'S HISTORY. Page 118. 
 
 This was written shortly after the close of the 
 great civil war of the United States, of '61 to '65, in which 
 
474 NOTES. 
 
 it was the fortune and privilege of the author to have 
 been a humble participant, and while the echoes of that 
 conflict were still resounding throughout the nation. Were 
 he to attempt the same task now, when the stern realities 
 of that convulsive period are but memories, softened and 
 dimmed by the lapse of time, the result would no doubt 
 be somewhat different. He leaves it, however, as it is, as 
 he left it then, containing not an overdrawn presentation 
 of some scenes which in those days were but the common, 
 experience of thousands of American homes. 
 
 NOTE 5.— ELVA LEE. Page 180. 
 This was published in book-form in 1868, at Chicago, 111. 
 
 NOTE 6.— MELCHA'S MISSION. Page 223. 
 
 The incident, upon which this composition is founded, 
 is thus stated in the first division of the "History of Ireland 
 by Sylvester O'Halloran, " on pp. 220—221. 
 
 "Tlie oppressions the Irish nation labored under contin- 
 ued during almost the entire of Malachie's reign ; and for 
 a period of thirteen years, we read of no generous effort 
 made by this prince to restore peace and liberty to his 
 country, except the few attempts made in the fir.st year 
 of his administration. The event, however, proves that, 
 far from wanting abilities, genius, or courage, he was, in 
 the main, as great a statesman and general as an}^ na- 
 tion produced; but the nerves by which onl}^ these tal- 
 ents and virtues could be called forth, had not yet suffered 
 the slightest vibration. Neither the love of glory, or of 
 his country, were the predominant passions of Malachie; 
 as is evident by his abject passivenessfor so many years, 
 but the measure of the iniquities of Turgesius, and of his 
 
NOTES. 475 
 
 barbarous hosts, was now filled, and the vengfeance of an 
 afflicted people was to be satisfied. 
 
 "Turgesius, accustomed to the most passive obe- 
 dience, and wantonly indulging every lawless passion, 
 had seen the lovely Melcha, daughter to the monarch, 
 and was resolved to enjoy her. He found means to make 
 his desires known to her, but they were rejected witti dis- 
 dain. He applied to her father, and probably with an in- 
 tent to make her his wife, thereby to give some appearance 
 of justice to the entailing of the supreme command of Ire- 
 land in his family; but this last is a mere surmise of 
 mine, unsupported by any authority. That he requested 
 the father's interest to procure him the daughter is cer- 
 tain ; and now it was that these passions, which the Jove 
 of his country could not inspire, blazed forth, and, in 
 the insults offered to his name and family, Malachie 
 wept, over the distresses of his country, and sought to re- 
 medy them. In order to gain time, he requested of Tur- 
 gesius two days to prepare his daughter for this sacrifice 
 and. in return for this condescension, he engaged that she 
 should be attended by fifteen of the finest virgins in 
 Meath (for this tyrant's residence was near Tara,) in order 
 to be disposed of among his principal favorites. The Dane 
 agreeing to this, JMalachie became more composed, and, 
 we are told, proposed to him the following question, prob- 
 ably to determine his own future conduct : 'What (says 
 he) shall we do to clear the country effectually of a par- 
 cel of foreign birds, lately come among us, of a most pest- 
 iferous nature?' Tlie tyrant, not aware of the tendency of 
 the question, answered ; 'If they build nests, you can nev- 
 er hope to root them out without destroying these nests 
 everywhere.' This plainly pointed out to Malachie, that, 
 in his meditated scheme of ruining the Danes, to insure 
 success, he must destroy their castles, also. 
 "Malachie, immediately after this, retired to his palace to 
 
476 NOTES. 
 
 consider more at leisure the conduct he si lould pursue. 
 "To sacrifice his daughter to a heathen Dane, the tyrant 
 and usurper of his country ! his soul recoiled at the 
 thought ! The shortness of the time and the numbers of 
 Danish enemies, and spies in every nook of the Kingdom, 
 could not shake him from his purpose. With wonderful 
 secrecy, he had procured fifteen heardless young men, 
 but with hearts burning to avenge the cause of their 
 countrv; and these were to be attired in female habits 
 each with a dirk concealed, to attend the princess of Ire- 
 land to the castle of Turgesius. He, at thesame time, call- 
 ed together a few of his most faithful adherents and 
 opened to them his intentions. Expresses were also sent 
 with the greatest privacy, from prince to prince, and 
 from chief to chief, exhorting them to fall everywhere 
 upon the perfidious Danes, as expeditiously as possible, 
 on the day luarked down, by which means they would 
 be disabled from affording relief to each other. During 
 these preparations, thoughts of love only, filled the breast 
 of the amorous Dane. He prepared a most sumptuous 
 bancjuet, to which he invited his chief favorites to cele- 
 brate the reception of his mi«tr«.-ss with great splendor. 
 
 "The evening of the fatal day approached, the princess 
 with her attendants advanced towards the castle of Tur- 
 gesius, and the father with a throbbing heart, anxious 
 for the issue of the great events, prepared, with his forces, 
 secretly and speedily to follow. Tlie directions given to 
 the young men were; the moment they preceived the Dane 
 advancing tow;irds the princess, they were to sieze him 
 and manacle, but by no means, kill him. A sign agreed 
 on was then to be given, the gates to be burst open, and 
 Malachie, and his party without, were to force in and 
 put the garrison to the sword, Turgesius only ex- 
 cepted ; all which were executed with as much courage 
 and exactness, as they were planned with secrecy and 
 
NOTES. 477 
 
 wisdom. Malachie, now in possession of the tyrant, 
 liad him led in fetters in the midst of his troops, the 
 better to encourage his countrymen and intimidate tlie 
 Danes, who, without head or hearts, feU everywhere an 
 easy prey to the encouraged Irish. In a short time the 
 country became clear of their hostile troops, either fall- 
 ing in battle or escaping by their ships, and an armed 
 Dane was not to be seen in the land! Liberty was pro- 
 claimed, the remains of the clergy and literati came forth 
 from their lurking places, and many of those who fledto 
 France, returned. Churcties and monesteries were re- 
 consecrated, colleges and universities again opened, and 
 such works as could be gleaned, or had escaped the 
 Danish conflagrations, were carefully collected. The 
 glory of Malachie, and the greatness of his exploits, 
 were the themes of the Senachies and Bards, and the 
 kingdom re-echoed the sound. 
 
 "It was, however, decreed that Turgesius should be 
 ])ut to death, and it was done in the most public man- 
 ner, he being thrown into Loch-Ainin, bound hand and 
 foot in the presence of his surviving countrymen and 
 thousands of spectators." 
 
 History records this event as taking place. A. D., 862. 
 'J'his same subject has been treated by Charles Lever in 
 a humorous poem entitled "The Maiden Masque ;" but 
 it may not l:)e improper to state here, what is the truth, 
 that the writer never had the pleasure of seeing, or 
 even knowing the existence of. Lever's poem until 
 some years after this composition was concluded. 
 
 NOTE 7.— THE SLAVE'S REVENGE. Page 308. ' 
 
 The incident which is the basis of these verses, will 
 be found under the title "Antius Restio" — which was 
 the name of the mastei", referred to in the text — in Ar- 
 nold's " History of the Later Roman Commonwealth. "