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 ^.X/^'^/^'^e^..^ /A^f. 
 
EARL RUPERT, 
 
 AND OTHER TALES AND POEMS, 
 
 / 
 
 BV JAMES NACK. 
 
 MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR 
 
 11 Y P. M. WBTMORE. 
 
 
 NEW-YORK : 
 GEORGE ADLARD, 1C8 BROADWAY. 
 
 MDCCCXXXIX. 
 

 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1839, by 
 
 JAMES NACK, 
 
 In the Clerk's office of the Southern District of New-York. 
 
 1 ^- -> Ct 
 
 «S"' i^ 
 
 O. p. SCOTT, PRINTER. 
 
TO HIM WHOSE GENIUS 
 
 PRIDE OF HIS COUNTRY 
 
 THE ADMIRATION OF THE WORLD, 
 
 WASHINGTON IRVING, ESQ, 
 
 ?rt)fs Volume 
 
 IS RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Page- 
 INTRODUCTORY MEMOIR. 
 
 EARL RUPERT ^ 
 
 MY BLUE EYED CHILD 23 
 
 MIGNONNE 24 
 
 THE ROMANCE OF THE RING 26 
 
 THE BELL SONG ^^ 
 
 Calcs. 
 
 THE BATTLE OF THE SNAKES 67 
 
 THE CONQUEROR'S RETURN 69 
 
 THE PEARL-HANDLED KNIFE "6 
 
 THE ENCHANTED CUP '. 82 
 
 GOOD NIGHT, MAMMA 55 
 
 THE LAST GAME 87 
 
 MARY'S BEE 93 
 
 THE SUICIDE ^ 
 
 CATCHING A FOX ^^ 
 
 THE OLD CLOCK ^ 
 
 LEONORA "^* 
 
CONTENTS. Ti 
 
 LAW PROCEEDINGS 117 
 
 THE INDEPENDENT BANNER OF TRUTH 120 
 
 RAT CATCHING 137 
 
 MY GRANDFATHER'S WIG 140 
 
 A CHAPTER ON CURLS 153 
 
 LAW REPORTS 158 
 
 LAST WORDS OF A BACHELOR 162 
 
 iHflisccUaneous ^^orms. 
 
 WALTER SCOTT AND WASHINGTON IRVING 173 
 
 FOREST MUSINGS 176 
 
 MY CAP 179 
 
 THE WAR HORSE 180 
 
 AN EPISTLE TO E. PARMLY 181 
 
 THE PICTURE , 185 
 
 MY WIFE 188 
 
 THE RECOLLECTIONS OF THE PEOPLE 190 
 
 YOUNG NAPOLEON AT HIS FATHER'S GRAVE 194 
 
 THE MIDNIGHT REVIEW 196 
 
 THE BIRTH OF PRINTING 198 
 
 SPRING IS COMING /. 201 
 
 LOVE WILL FIND OUT THE WAY 802 
 
 THE SUN 203 
 
 WHAT SHOULD WE DO, MY BROTHER 204 
 
vii CONTENTS. 
 
 A WINTER ASPIRATION 205 
 
 SONG OF AUSTERLITZ 206 
 
 MY PRETTY BIRDS a07 
 
 BRIDAI, SONG 208 
 
 WEDDED LOVE 20fl 
 
 A THOUGHT OF THE PAST 211 
 
 REST, BABY, REST ib. 
 
 ON THE DEATH OF MY DOG BOZ 212 
 
 A CHRISTMAS GREETING 214 
 
 TUB FLOWER OF LOVE 215 
 
 MY LOVE, LOVES ME ib 
 
 CHRIST BLESSING CHILDREN .....217 
 
 TO MIGNONNE 218 
 
 GREATNESS •. 220 
 
^' 
 
4Sr ^ 
 
 INTRODUCTORY MEMOIR. 
 
 [n the subject of this sketch we find verified the remark of 
 Horace, now become almost trite, tliat poets are born, not made. 
 Had not James Nack been deeply imbued by nature with 
 
 " The vision and the faculty divine ;" 
 
 had he not been impelled by an irresistible love and a feeling 
 for his art, he never could have overcome the numerous, and 
 seemingly insurmountable difficulties, which met him at every 
 turn in the opening of his career. It is indeed a mental phe- 
 nomenon, that one deprived of the sense of hearing, should be 
 able to appreciate correctly the qualities of language, and to 
 hold discourse 
 
 " With all the glorious harmonies of earth." 
 
 Cut off in early youth from that familiar, genial intercourse, 
 whicli sweetens the days of childhood, and smooths the path to 
 knowledge, his sole reliance was on his own natural resources — 
 an intellect, vigorous and clear; an imagination, vivid and 
 far-reaching ; and a resolution, that could meet and subdue the 
 irreparable calamity of his life. 
 
xii INTRODUCTORY MEMOIR. 
 
 The materials for a memoir of Mr. Nack are necessarily 
 very imperfect. In the life of one isolated from the world, 
 struggling with manly fortitude against an adverse fate, there 
 are few incidents that can be moulded to the purposes of bio- 
 graphy ; but the history of such a career is not without an 
 interest which enlists the sympathy of the reader, and furnishes 
 an instructive lesson in the philosophy of the human mind. 
 
 The remarks of Washington Irving, in reference to the poet 
 Campbell, are so peculiarly applicable to the present case, 
 that their introduction will not be deemed inappropriate: — 
 "We are as ignorant respecting the biography of most living 
 authors of celebrity, as though they had existed ages before our 
 time ; and indeed are better informed concerning the characters 
 and lives of authors who have long since passed away, than of 
 those who are actually adding to the stores of our literature. 
 Few think of writing the anecdotes of a distinguished character 
 while living. His intimates, who of course are most capable, 
 are prevented by their very intimacy, little thinking those do- 
 mestic habits and peculiarities, which an every-day acquain- 
 tance has made so trite and familiar to themselves, can be 
 objects of curiosity to all the world besides." 
 
 James Nack was born in the city of New York. While yet 
 a child, the fortunes of his father who was a merchant, suffered 
 severely by the reverses of trade. This adversitj' fell heavil}'^ 
 upon the subject of these remarks, for it deprived him of many 
 of the advantages of education ; indeed the only instruction he 
 received at this period was from a sister, in the few moments of 
 leisure which she could spare from domestic occupations. The 
 native strength of his mind and his ardent longing for know- 
 
INTRODUCTORY MEMOIR xiji 
 
 ledge, triumphed over all opposing obstacles, and In his Iburtli 
 year lie could read with perfect facility. His powers of versi- 
 fication began to dawn even at this tender age, and before his 
 ninth year, he had acquired some knowledge of rythm, and 
 considerable command of language. 
 
 It was about this period that an accident occurred which has 
 thrown a cloud over his whole life, and in a measure shut him 
 out from the intimate communion of his fellow-beings. While 
 descending a flight of stairs, with a little playmate in his arms, 
 his foot slipped ; in his fall he caught at a heavy piece of fur- 
 niture which fell upon his head, crushing and mangling it so 
 severely, that for several hours no sign of life appeared, and 
 many weeks elapsed before consciousness returned. The tym- 
 panum of the ear being injured, his hearing was irrevocably 
 lost, and as a natural consequence, the faculty of speech gra* 
 dually declined. 
 
 When at length his health was sufficiently restored, he was 
 received into that noble and philanthropic establishment, the 
 institution for the instruction of the deaf and dumb, where 
 under the kind and judicious care of the Principal, he made 
 rapid progress in the ordinary branches of education. 
 
 On retiring from the institution, he determined upon prose- 
 cuting his studies with the aid of such few books as he could 
 obtain. The result may be given in the words of the late 
 Samuel L. Knapp, in his " Sketches of Public Characters :" 
 
 " His acquirements at this early age, in the languages and all 
 the branches of knowledge ordinary and extraordinary, are supe- 
 rior to those of any young man of the same age I ever met with. 
 
 ii* 
 
xiv INTRODUCTORY MEMOIR 
 
 There is a strength and maturity about his mind rarely to be 
 found in those who have experienced no such deprivation as he 
 has been visited "with. His criticisms have a sagacity and shrewd- 
 ness unequalled by those who were critics before he was born. He 
 acquires a language with the most astonishing facility. No one 
 T ever knew could do it with the same readiness except the late 
 learned orientalist, George Bethune English. Nack unites, in 
 a degree truly astonishing, those two seemingly inconsistent 
 qualities, restlessness and perseverance. He reads and writes, 
 and does all things as though he had just breathed the Delphic 
 vai)our, and perseveres as though he was chained to the spot by 
 some talismanic power. He is a bunch of delicate fibres, too 
 susceptible for composure; or rather of nerves, jarred to agony 
 if struck by a rude hand. Poetical beings are often too sen- 
 sitive when in possession of every natural property and gift, 
 but in a situation like Nack's, tlie pulses of the heart seem to 
 beat iu our sight, without even the thinne-:t skin to hide them, 
 open to every blast of a cold and cruel world. But in a few 
 years our gifted author will find things changing around him ; 
 and his youthful labours will become the foundation-stones of 
 a goodl}- edifice, in the fashioning of which he has learned the 
 skill of a literary architect, and acquired the strength to raise a 
 temple of imperishable fame for his owni and his country's 
 glory." 
 
 Until his fifteenth year, the effusions of the young poet had 
 attracted little notice. From his retiring and solitary habits, 
 he had formed few acquaintances, and among them, none 
 capable of appreciating his powers, or encouraging their de- 
 velopement. It was the little ^era o[ the Blue-Eyed 3Iaid, 
 
INTRODUCTORY MEMOIR. xv 
 
 written in his fourteenth year, tiiat opened hir career to 
 fame. He had given a copy to a young friend who sliowed 
 it to his fatlier, Mr. Abraham Astcn, a gentleman of culti- 
 vated mind and correct taste. The favourable opinion of the 
 poet's talents thus formed, being fully sustained by an ex- 
 amination of his other productions, this gentleman introduced 
 him to several distinguished literary characters, by whose ad- 
 vice a volume of poems was published, selected from produc- 
 tions written between his fourteenth and seventeenth years. 
 This volume was received with great favour by the public. 
 Of one of these pieces. Colonel Knapp observes — " In his six- 
 teenth year he wrote, with many other poems, that beautiful 
 effort of genius, the Minstrel Boy. This came from his heart, 
 and it reaches the heart of every reader. It has a deep tone of 
 feeling, a sweetness of language and an ease of versification, 
 that will secure its immortality." 
 
 In alluding to this volume, the New England Magazine, a 
 work of high character for its critical acumen, remarks: — " For 
 precocity of talent and attainment under circumstances pecu- 
 liarly unpropitious, James Nack, the deaf and dumb poet of 
 New- York, is an intellectual wonder. As far as known, Chris- 
 tendom contains nothing comparable to him. All things con- 
 sidered, Chatterton did not equal him. He has not yet attained 
 his twentieth year. He has known none of the advantages of 
 a liberal education, has never had until recently free access to 
 books, and has felt through life the tuisparing hand of poverty 
 and misfortune : and yet he has written much, and many of 
 his productions are of a high order ; all of them are marked 
 with the rich and fervid outpourings of genius. For intensity, 
 
xvi INTRODUCTORY MEMOIR. 
 
 and all that gives to poetry its highest character, they are cer- 
 tainly not surpassed, we think not equalled, by any of the early 
 productions of Lord Byron ; and those juvenile offerings of the 
 noble bard have never received the commendations they merit. 
 It is not too much to say of this gifted young American, that 
 when matured by time and finished by labour, some of his 
 future efforts in song may equal the happiest of those that have 
 immortalized the author of Childe Harold.'''' 
 
 Among others whose notice was attracted by the writings of 
 Nack, was an eminent member of the bar in this city, who 
 employed him in his office, and gave him the use of an es^ten- 
 sive and well selected library. "This situation," saj's Colonel 
 Knapi?, "opened a new world to him. He revelled in fresh 
 delights ; devoured books upon poetry, history, philosoph}^ fic- 
 tion, mathematics, politics, ethicks, criticism, and theology. 
 He vrroie as well as read on all these subjects ; formed a thou- 
 sand theories, and tore them up root and branch for new crea- 
 tions." 
 
 On the departure of his employer for Europe, Nack was 
 engaged by Mr. Asten, at that period Clerk of the city and 
 county, as an assistant in his office. From this gentleman, 
 and his official successors, as well as from Colonel Warner, 
 under whose able and efficient supervision, the active duties 
 of the office have been conducted for many years, he has receiv- 
 ed the strongest proofs of friendship, esteem and confidence. 
 The dry details of legal papers, the monotonous toil of search- 
 ing the musty records of the courts, however uncongenial to the 
 poetical temperament, have no power to turn him from the path 
 
INTRODUCTORY MEMOIR. xvii 
 
 of duty. He enters tlioroughly into tlie spirit of his various 
 labours, and discharges lliem with a zeal and ability which 
 probably few could equal, and which has secured for him not 
 only the confidence of his employers, but the warm regard 
 and esteem of the members of the bar- In the early part of 
 the year 1838, Mr. Nack married an amiable young lady, to 
 whom he had been attached almost from her childhood ; and 
 who, it is to be hoped, realizes the beautiful delineation of a 
 wife, whicli will be found in tliis volume. 
 
 Of the contents of tlie present work, it may be proper to ob- 
 serve, that the 7?oma«cc o/'</«c Ring, and several of the minor 
 pieces, were written in the author's seventeenth year. The 
 specimens of translations exhibit a remarkable facility in enter- 
 ing into the spirit of foreign writers, and equal skill in clothing 
 their ideas in well chosen language. The author's power in 
 this respect is most conspicuous in the poem of Leonora, which, 
 as a German critic has observed, " is remarkable in every 
 point of view. Taylor, Scott, and others of less note, have 
 attempted this singular ballad, but have effected no more than 
 to give the reader an outline of the story, and even that unne- 
 cessarily altered. Mr. Nack has given us a translation almost 
 literal in words, and identical in spirit. His success in convey- 
 ing to an English ear the imitation of sounds which the ori- 
 ginal conveys to the German, is truly wonderful, considering 
 his own deprivation of the faculty of hearing. In reading the 
 night-ride, we forget that we are perusing a narrative ; we seem 
 to be ourselves upon the road ; we rise and fall with the bound 
 of the panting steed ; the bridges thunder beneath us ; hills, 
 woods and vales fly pjist us right and left ; and "the heavens 
 
xviii INTRODUCTORY MEMOIR. 
 
 with every star " disappear in the rapidity of the flight. In 
 his Bell-Song, so far as he adheres to Schiller, he walks side by 
 side with the original ; and where he departs from the German 
 author, it is certainly not to fall behind him. The battle-piece, 
 of which there is no trace in Schiller, may rank with the finest 
 passages in the poem." 
 
 Mr. Nack has long had it in contemplation to undertake a 
 free translation of Goethe's Faust; and after reading the preced- 
 ing remarks of a competent judge, upon a kindred work of our 
 author, we are induced to hope that the opportunity may yet 
 present itself for the accomplislament of his object, than which 
 none could be found more wortliy of his intellectual power and 
 poetic genius. To read and appreciate justly the glorious crea- 
 tions of the German poet, is a privilege accorded to few Eng- 
 lish students ; but to ascend with him in the high heaven of in- 
 vention, when his " garland and singing robes" are about him, 
 and bring thencethe rapt minstrelsy of the mighty bard, is a con- 
 summation of poetical dignity and renown, that may well excite 
 the ambition of one emulous of a name which the world would 
 not willingly let die. 
 
 The productions of Nack were noticed in a spirit of enlight- 
 ened criticism in one of the earlier numbers of the Critic, a 
 periodical published in this city about ten years since, and edited 
 with signal ability and independence by one who, while the 
 pen is tracing these lines, has gone to a premature grave. In 
 that notice, Mr. Leggett thus eloquently alludes to the subject of 
 these remarks : — " One of the distinguishing characteristics of 
 Nack's poetry is the smoothness of its versification ; and we 
 cannot but look upon it as a matter of surprise that he, over 
 
INTRODUCTORY MEMOIR. xix 
 
 whose head the crashing thunder rolls unheard, and who is 
 locked up in perpetual silence, as unbroken as that of death, 
 should yet be able to give to thought such euphonious language, 
 and arrange it with such invariable regard to rythm." 
 
 " Another circumstance that we were not prepared to find 
 in the poetry of our young minstrel, is that a large proportion 
 of his illustrations are drawn — and, in many instances, with 
 singular aptness and propriety — from sources which we should 
 suppose totally inaccessible to him. The breeze whispers, the 
 foliage rustles, the streams murmur and gurgle, and the birds 
 carol "their native wood-notes wild," in his stanzas, blending 
 their various sounds into the same delicious harmony, which, in 
 nature, so often creates delight in the breasts of those who have 
 ears to hear." 
 
 The variety indicated in the contents of the present volume, 
 exhibits a versatility of talents in our author, which would appear 
 still more extraordinary if a list were given of his unpublished 
 writings and anonymous contributions to various periodicals. 
 Among his manuscripts are moral and religious essays, novels, 
 dramatic pieces, and poems upon a variety of subjects, none of 
 which he considers worthy of publication, but upon which others 
 might place a very different estimate. He has now reached 
 the period of manhood ; and his maturer efforts, the productions 
 of the little leisure allowed by the active duties of his station, 
 afford abundant evidence of intellectual culture, and fully sus- 
 tain the brilliant promises of his youth. The copiousness of 
 diction, the general precision of language, as well as correctness 
 of rythm and rhyme, are indeed remarkable in one who was 
 deprived, at so early a period of life, of the principal avenue 
 
XX INTRODUCTORY MEMOIR. 
 
 by which to arrive at a correct knowledge of the meaning and 
 melody of words. 
 
 Mr. Nack's habits are regular and retired. The domestic 
 attractions of home have a greater charm for him than the 
 allurements of the world. Tlie amusements and excitements of 
 society can rarely win him from his books or his desk. He is 
 averse to mixed company, reserved in the presence of strangers, 
 but familiar and playful in the circle of his select friends ; of 
 strong passions, quick to resent, but quicker to forgive ; prone 
 to act upon the impulse of the moment ; of a disposition gen- 
 tle, generous, and sincere. He is fond of children, and success- 
 ful in engaging their afiections. With such qualities of mind 
 and heart, it is not surprising that he secures the warm regard 
 of those who have the hap]Mness of his acquaintance, nor that 
 he is most esteemed by those who know hi m best. 
 
 Nkw-York, July 1, 1839. 
 
EARL RUPERT 
 
# 
 
EARL RUPERT. 
 
 3()art ffixst: 
 
 " The sun has left the skies, love, 
 
 And earth, to gloomy night ; 
 But wilt thou not arise, love, 
 
 A sun of sweeter light ? 
 Unshroud those eyes, whose splendor, 
 
 When they upon me break, 
 My soul shall sunlight render — 
 
 Oh, lady-love, awake !" 
 
 He paus'd, but still he fix'd his eye 
 Upon the balcony on high ; 
 There came a sound so light, the ear 
 Of love alone had power to hear; 
 And slowly and tremblingly was raised 
 The lattice, on which he eagerly gazed, 
 And disclosed a figure, all in white, 
 Save that her locks were dark as night ; 
 Convuls'd by shame and fear and grief. 
 She trembled like an aspen leaf; 
 
EARL RUPERT. 
 
 Against the quivering bars she Ican'd, 
 
 And with her hands her feature's screen'd : — 
 
 His arms were open flung, 
 But fixedly the lady stood 
 So long, that words of angry mood 
 Were rushing to his tongue ; 
 But they were instantly repress'd, 
 And thus the lady he address'd 
 
 As mildly as he could ; 
 " Why shouldst thou fly a lover's arms, 
 The surest shelter from alarms ? 
 Oh come to me, my bird of love ! 
 Fly to my bosom like a dove ! 
 And thou shalt find a shelter there, 
 From every sorrow, fear, and care ; 
 And sooner than an arrow, hurl'd 
 
 By danger, should upon thee fall, 
 This arm would cope with all the world, 
 
 And nerved by love, would conquer all ! 
 y\ hat canst thou fear while I am near, 
 
 That trembling thus thou art reclined 1 
 What has thy home than me more dear. 
 
 That thou shouldst weep to leave behind ?" 
 
 •' My father " 
 
 With a hasty stride 
 The knight impatient turn'd aside. 
 
 But slowly back he came ; 
 His brow was dark with wrath and pride. 
 
EARL RUPERT. 
 
 And he with passion quivering cried, — 
 
 " Is this thy love ! — for shame ! — 
 Thy father ! he who tears apart 
 The links that bind us heart to heart, 
 
 But ill deserves the name ! 
 Thy fiithcr ! call'st thou Edric such ? 
 Then may'st thou hate thy father much. 
 
 And little be to blame ! 
 I^'or who of all the world hath wrought 
 Thy misery most? and who hath sought 
 To make that misery greater still, 
 And if thou dost not fly him, will? 
 Who — who but Edric — may such curse 
 As he would doom us — and a worse — 
 
 Burst on the hoary villain " 
 
 " Spare—' 
 Oh spare my father — curse him not ." 
 
 " Well, lady, it shall be my prayer, 
 That be what may our future lot, 
 
 Such lot may Edric bear — 
 Then come, my love — or thou art loth 
 To bless me and thy father both ! 
 
 Oh come ! — behold him there !" 
 She turns — she sees her father stand. 
 With weapon gleaming in his hand ; — 
 His reverend lineaments reveal 
 Far mightier arms than those of steel — 
 1* 
 
EARL RUPERT. 
 
 His silver locks — his tottering limbs — 
 His eyes, which age or anguish dims — 
 The quivering- lip — the bosom's swell, — 
 
 Which choke his utterance of her name. 
 All feelings from her breast repel, 
 
 Opposed to filial duty's claim. 
 And sink her at her father's feet, 
 A suppliant sorrowful and sweet. 
 
 " Dear father ! " 
 
 With a sudden bound 
 
 The knight is at her side. 
 He clasps, springs with her to the ground — 
 
 " Away, my love ! my bride !"— — 
 He throws her on his gallant steed, 
 He mounts behind — with lightning speed 
 
 From Edric's sight they ride. 
 
 Away ! away ! they dash along 
 Upon that courser fleet and strong, 
 And the swift rushing of the air 
 Snatch'd the breath of the lady fair j 
 She could not shriek, she could not speak, 
 
 She scarce could move a limb ; 
 With a convulsive grasp, but weak, 
 
 Her arms encircled him, 
 Who while they madly hurried by. 
 Never upon her turn'd his eye. 
 
EARL RUPERT. 
 
 Till they a forest's border gain'd ; 
 But then the knight his courser rein'd, 
 And turn'd to her, and bade her keep 
 
 Her seat, by clinging to the mane. 
 
 He took the courser by the rein, 
 Then plunging in the forest deep, 
 With furious dash he thrust aside 
 The branches that a path denied, 
 Muttering a curse at the delay, 
 While toiling thus to force a way. 
 
 An hour or more was thus employ'd. 
 And scarce he had a moment joy'd 
 To find the open plain attain'd,. 
 When lo ! he saw his courser rein'd 
 
 By an unwelcome hand ! 
 Oh then the lady's eye was dim, 
 And her brain began to swim, 
 
 For forth he drew his brand — 
 She darted to the ground, and kneeling. 
 Raised to his face a look appealing — 
 But vain was the appeal to him — 
 He lopt away the shrivell'd limb ; 
 The blood of the father, red and hot. 
 Into the face of the daughter shot ! 
 And shrieks of horror from her drew, 
 As it were burnuDg her through and through ! 
 
EARL RUPERT. 
 
 She reel'd against a tree, and there 
 
 Reclined a statue of despair, 
 
 Till waken'd by her father's moan, 
 
 She darted from the tree ; 
 She knelt ; her arms were round him thrown, 
 
 To prop him on her knee ; 
 His drooping eyes were slowly raised, 
 But when they on his daughter gazed. 
 They with indignant lightnings blazed : 
 He waved his mangled limb — " Away ! 
 
 Away, thou parricide!" 
 In wrath he tore his locks of grey, 
 
 With his own blood bedyed ! 
 He struggled from her trembling hold, 
 Then on the ground unconscious roH'd. 
 
 And she upon the ground remain'd. 
 Upon her hand and knee sustain'd, 
 So pale and still, she might have seem'd 
 
 The model of a sculptor's art. 
 Save that her eye a lustre beam'd 
 
 No sculptor could impart. 
 And her dishevell'd tresses stream'd 
 In darkness, yet in brightness gleam'd. 
 
 " Arise, my lady-love. We must 
 In sooth confess that heaven is just ! 
 
EARL RUPERT. 
 
 He sought my death — the dotard ! — well ! 
 
 What death may be he now can tell ! 
 
 I heard him once within his halls. 
 
 Ere I was banish'd from their walls, 
 
 Reciting in a goodly strain 
 
 That death is but the end of pain J 
 
 And it becomes a duteous child 
 
 His doctrine to receive ; 
 Then to his fate be reconciled, 
 
 For thou canst well believe 
 That al' his pains are at an end. 
 And thus am I approved his friend ! 
 And therefore may I well demand 
 To be rewarded with thy hand ; 
 And he hath the example shown. 
 In that he has resign'd his own !" 
 
 He whistled to his gallant steed, 
 
 Which bounded to his side ; 
 " Come, lady fair I we must proceed ! 
 
 For we have far to ride !" 
 
 He laid his hand upon her arm. 
 And rous'd her from her trance. 
 
 She started up in wild alarm. 
 Around she threw her glance ; 
 
 But when it on her father fell. 
 
 Burst from her a convulsive yell. 
 
10 EARL RUPERT. 
 
 '' Be silent ! fool !" exclaim'd the knight, 
 While glared his eyes with demon light ; 
 Hut vain for him to look or speak 
 In menace ; shriek succeeded shriek, 
 Till they were home to many an ear — 
 The knight enraged, beheld appear, 
 On every side, a coming foe. 
 And forced his purpose to forego, 
 While loud and deep his curses rung, 
 In haste upon his steed he sprung. 
 
 IDnvt SrronD. 
 
 Amid the halls of revelry, 
 
 Around Earl Rupert stand 
 The beauty and the chivalry, 
 
 The chosen of the land'; 
 The king himself has deign'd to grace 
 
 His minion's festival ; 
 Yet stands Earl Rupert in the place, 
 
 The goodliest of them all ; 
 And truly had a stranger seen 
 His noble form and regal mien. 
 He would have deem'd, of all the ring. 
 
 Could none but Rupert be the king. 
 
EARL RUPERT. 11 
 
 The monarch leans his arm upon, 
 
 And thanks the deeds that arm has done 
 
 His country's rights to save ; 
 And then looks up to his the eye, 
 Applausive, of the circle by, 
 
 The beautiful, the brave ! 
 The king is speaking ; Rupert bends 
 His stately head, and pleased attends, 
 With sparkling eye and glowing cheek — 
 
 But whence this sudden change ? 
 He staggers like an infant weak, 
 And from him bursts a thrilling shriek — 
 
 How pale his cheek ! 'tis strange ! 
 How wild, how fix'd his eye-balls glare ! 
 What hath he seen ? 
 
 " Look there ? look there !" 
 
 'Twas Edric with his handless arm ! 
 
 The knight against a pillar sunk ; 
 All was confusion and alarm ; 
 
 The timid fled, the bravest shrunk. 
 While motionless the knight reclined, 
 He gather'd up his strength of mind, 
 And suddenly he rais'd his head ; 
 
 To Edric he advanced 
 With fearless and impatient tread ; 
 
 His eyes derision glanced. 
 
12 EARL RUPERT. 
 
 " I care not much to see the dead 
 At festivals," he smiling said ; 
 *' But dead or living, friend or foe, 
 I bid thee free to come and go, 
 
 E'en for thy daughter's sake!" 
 "I live ! for till the end is gain'd 
 For which in life I have remain'd, 
 
 My heart disdains to break ! 
 I live for justice, and before 
 My king, that justice I implore !" 
 
 And at these words, before the king 
 
 Upon his knee he fell ; 
 Around him press'd an eager ring, 
 
 To hear what he might tell, 
 For those who fled at first had now 
 Return'd ; and though with careless brow 
 Earl Rupert heard his foe's complaint, 
 His rage and shame 'twere ill to paint, 
 To think what eyes were on his face. 
 While he was charged with dire disgrace. 
 The eyes that late admiring gazed. 
 While royalty his pro^TOSs praised ! 
 He smiled — and as he smiled, he swore 
 His enemy should smile no more. 
 
EARL RUPERT. 13 
 
 When Edric ceased, there burst a cry 
 
 Of horror from the throng. 
 And Rupert read in every eye 
 
 Their indignation strong, 
 And beauty shudder'd at his glance, 
 And knighthood grasp'd a vengeful lance ; 
 But all were hush'd when the command 
 Was given, that Rupert forth should stand 
 
 And answer for his fame ; 
 And forth with dignity he stept — 
 " From me it hath been secret kept 
 
 If I have been to blame ; 
 For innocently have I thought 
 That what I've done was rightly wrought. 
 
 " Nay, hear me — 'twas no villain's part 
 To woo his child, or win her heart. 
 For I can boast of equal birth 
 And fortune, higher fame and worth ; 
 And yet the cause I can suspect 
 That Edric would my suit reject : 
 Not that, according to his lie. 
 My passions were too fierce and high. 
 For him to trust me with his child, 
 So (imid, delicate and mild ; 
 Although a soldier's ways are rough, 
 She trusted me, that was enough. 
 2 
 
14 EARL RUPERT. 
 
 But Edric would her hand bestow 
 On one avow'd my sovereign's foe — 
 A rebel chieftain, at whose side 
 To battle had been Edric's pride, 
 
 Till the pretender fell, 
 And Edric, with his rebel friend, 
 For pardon were conipell'd to bend — 
 
 They earn that pardon well ! 
 What could their hate upon me call I 
 My loyalty — and that is all ! 
 
 " And say, hath not this wretch profaned 
 
 The name of father? well he knew 
 That I his daughter's heart had gain'd, 
 
 And that my own repaid her too : 
 And yet he, for a dotard's sake, 
 His daughter's heart, and mine, would break ! 
 Oh think, ye ladies young and fair. 
 Whose beauty may with hers compare ; 
 Oh think, what hardship for your charms. 
 To wither in a grey-beard's arms, 
 And from a chosen lover part 
 Of goodly frame, and glowing heart ! 
 And could I leave to fate so drear 
 
 The lady whom I loved the best ? 
 
 My faith ! it would degrade my crest. 
 And blot the name of chevalier ! 
 
EARL RUPERT. 15 
 
 I saved her from a wretched fate : 
 
 And let these damsels tell, 
 Whose strictest judgment I await, 
 
 Ilath Rupert acted well?" 
 
 At first a murmur of applause 
 Betray'd the triumph of his cause 
 
 "Earl Rupert acted well!" 
 But Edric for his sole reply 
 Display'd his limb to every eye 
 
 Which rhill'd them like a si)e}l ; 
 And in the eyes of all around 
 Reproach and doubt Earl Rupert found. 
 
 "Yet hear me further!" he exclaim'd : 
 
 You'll find that I have been 
 In this at least unjustly blamed, 
 
 Whatever else my sin ; 
 For when with me the lady fled 
 For shelter from the sentence dread, 
 Her father sword in hand pursued, 
 Which in her blood had been imbrued, 
 
 Had I not been her shield : 
 He faced me then in mortal fight. 
 And certcs, it was not for a knight 
 
 To either fly or yield 1 
 Fie forced the strife ; by heaven's decree 
 
 Beneath my arm he fell : 
 
16 EARL RUPERT. 
 
 Then say, ye flower of chivalry, 
 Hath Rupert acted welH" 
 
 In loud applause arose the shout — 
 " Earl Rupert acted well !" 
 
 Yet this the monarch's look of doubt 
 Avail'd not to dispel; 
 
 For Edric answer'd the defence 
 
 In silence that was eloquence. 
 
 "Yet hear me further!" Rupert said 
 
 " I must disclose the cause, 
 That, more than all, upon my head 
 
 Sir Edric's vengeance draws : 
 I once was in his halls a guest, 
 
 And not unwelcome quite, 
 Howbeit that he welcomed best. 
 
 The pardon'd rebel knight : 
 Before me once that rebel chief 
 Began to whine his patriot grief, 
 That we had for our king forsooth, 
 A feeble and capricious youth ! 
 Obedient to my loyal heart, 
 1 took my injured sovereign's part. 
 He madden'd at my loyal fire. 
 And both ere long were high in ire ; 
 We drew — and one of us had died. 
 
EARL RUPERT. 17 
 
 But that at Edric's call 
 His vassals hasten'd to divide 
 The combat, while their master cried, 
 
 " Expel him from the hall !'* 
 They dragged me forth, and never more 
 To me was open'd Edric's door. 
 
 " It sure a loyal knight became 
 To vindicate his monarch's fame, 
 
 And the defamer quell ! 
 My liege, thy judgment let me claim — 
 
 Hath Rupert acted well?" 
 
 The king his head assenting bow'd. 
 While knight and dames acclaim'd aloud, 
 
 " Earl Rupert acted well !" 
 Then Edric knew his cause was lost ; 
 His brow a moment's shadow cross'd, 
 
 As dark and grim as hell ! 
 His bloody wrist in Rupert's face 
 He dash'd, then turn'd to leave the place ; 
 But eveiy knight and courtier ran 
 To seize the rash insulting man : 
 
 " Death to the traitor ! death !" — 
 Said Rupert, with benignant smile, 
 " Let not his blood your swords defile. 
 
 Spare his ig^noble breath ! 
 2* 
 
18 EARL RUPERT. 
 
 My licge, forgive him — I forgive — 
 Let tlic poor crazy dotard live." 
 
 *' Well, for thy sake we are content 
 To change his doom to banishment; 
 
 Expel him from our sight." 
 Again erect Earl Rupert stands, 
 Encircled by applauding bands,. 
 
 While envies every knight. 
 And every dame extols his ruth,. 
 The merciful,, tlie injured youth ! 
 
 The royal train has vanish'd all,. 
 And Rupert in his lunely hall 
 
 In moody thought remains ; 
 Oft to the window he advanced, 
 And often at the portal glanced ;; 
 
 Impatience swcU'd his veins. 
 And to and fro he paced in rage ; 
 But enters now a breathless page — 
 
 " My lord, he comes in chains !" 
 And open wide the portal flew. 
 Disclosing Edric to his view. 
 Surrounded by the vassal band — 
 " Oh welcome ! I'll excuse vour hand T 
 
EARL RUPERT. 19 
 
 Slaves, leave us. — Now we are alone, 
 
 Down, villain ! on a suppliant knee, 
 Implore my pardon, whine and groan, 
 
 And yet may life be spared to thee." 
 " Away with life ! why should I live ? 
 What comfort yet has earth to give 1 
 My child forsook me !" 
 
 •' There you err ; 
 Not such the blame belongs to her. 
 But this hfr blame, that for your sake 
 She chose hci heart and mine to break; 
 To turn her from that silly course, 
 I tore her from her home by force. 
 "Now let within thy heart awake 
 
 The demon of remorse. 
 To wreathe with never-dying fire, 
 Thy ruthless soul, relentless sire. 
 Think of thy child, the fair, the dear, 
 The good, the best of earthly sphere, 
 A houseless, friendless castaway. 
 Abandoned by her only stay. 
 
 To want and shame, and worse ; 
 Behold she lays her down to die. 
 Nor dares to turn a look on high. 
 Crushed by a father's curse I" 
 
 " Not so — the curse is all unsaid — 
 A father's blessing on her head ! 
 
20 EARL RUPERT, 
 
 God's awful curse on thine ! 
 Yet may I clasp her to my breast ! 
 Yet may I live to see her blest, 
 
 Whatever lot be mine !" 
 "Live if you choose ! but not with eyes 
 To see her blest or otherwise ; 
 
 Ho slaves ! the irons — 
 
 " Forbear !" 
 Eail Rupert started in surprise, 
 
 Then shudder'd in despair. 
 For at the portal stood the king 
 Attended by a knightly ring, 
 From which he saw Clorinda spring 
 
 To her glad ftither's heart ; 
 " Now God be thanked, perfidious earl, 
 Who timely sent this injured girl 
 
 To warn me what thou art! 
 Shiver his sword !" the monarch said ; 
 " Off with his spurs, and with his head !" 
 
 " Nay," answer'd Rupert, " good, my lord ! 
 Be this the way to break my sword !" 
 
 And at the royal breast 
 He aimed with fierce and desperate arm. 
 But every knight in prompt alarm 
 
 To guard his sovereign prcst. 
 And fifty blades met Rupert's one. 
 
EARL RUPERT. 21 
 
 But still he scorn'd the strife to shun ; 
 He battled as became the brave, 
 And many a wound recciv'd and gave, 
 
 Till lielple.ss he reclined : 
 " Forlicur to do him further harm ; 
 Alas! that one so brave of arm 
 
 Should be so base of mind !" 
 
 His gory head Earl Rupert raised, 
 
 Dash'd from his eyes the blinding blood 
 
 That trickled down in many a flood. 
 With ghastly look around he gazed. 
 Then gathering strength, upon his hand 
 He lean'd, and on his shiver'd brand, — 
 
 " At least it shall be said. 
 Earl Rupert died a soldier's death. 
 Nor gasp'd away inglorious breath 
 
 Upon a sickly bed. 
 Far better fall in manly strife. 
 Than drivel out ignoble life, 
 
 And totter to the dead !" 
 
 His gaze around him wander'd wild. 
 
 Till fix'd on Edric and his child. 
 
 He waived his hand, and grimly smiled — 
 
 ♦' My lady-love ! farewell !" 
 One struggle — to his feet he sprung, 
 His arms as in defiance flung 
 
 To heaven, and lifeless fell. 
 
J2 EARL RUPERT. 
 
 " So perish all," exclaini'il the king, 
 
 *' Who harm to womankind would bring ! 
 
 Yet, lady, thou hast been to blame, 
 
 And Edric too must censure claim. 
 
 It cannot be a father's right 
 
 To give his child in her despite ; 
 
 And least of all should he engage 
 
 Her blooming youth to withered age. 
 
 But still the daughter should not love 
 
 But whei'e the father may approve, 
 
 And least of all, deceive his eye 
 
 To listen to a lover's sigh ; 
 
 Yet will we pass no censure strong, 
 
 Since both have well atoned the wrong, 
 
 Content to hope that all at last 
 
 Ms/ learn some wisdom from the past," 
 
MY BLUE-EYED CHILD. 
 
 Come to my arms, my blue-eyed child ! 
 
 "Whose innocent endearments cheer 
 A heart, that, of all else despoil'd, 
 
 Would still be blest, so thou wert near ! 
 
 Come to my arms, my blue-eyed child ! 
 
 And bending o'er my shoulder, fling 
 Thy golden tresses, rolling wild 
 
 In many a soft and sunny ring ! 
 
 Come to my arms, my blue-eyed child ! 
 
 And let mc, on thy brow of snow, 
 Pure as thy spirit, undcfiled. 
 
 The burning kiss of love bestow ! 
 
 Come to my arms, my blue-eyed child ! 
 
 When thy dear eyes upon me shine. 
 So bright, and yet so sweet and mild, 
 
 Affection's tears will "ush in mine ! 
 
MIGNONNE. 
 
 She calls me " lather !" — though my ear 
 
 That thrilling name shall never hear, 
 
 Yet to my heart afTcction brings 
 
 The sound in sweet imaginings ; 
 
 I feel its o-ushing music roll 
 
 The stream of rapture on my soul ; 
 
 And when she starts to welcome me, 
 
 And when she totters to my knee, 
 
 And when she climbs it, to embrace 
 
 My bosom for her hiding place. 
 
 And when she nestling there reclines, 
 
 And with her arms my neck entwines, 
 
 And when her lips of roses seek 
 
 To press their sweetness on my cheek, 
 
 Or when upon my careful breast 
 
 I lull her to her cherub rest, 
 
 I whisper o'er the sinless dove, 
 
 "I love thee with a father's love!" 
 
ROMANCE OF THE RING. 
 
ROMA.NCE OF THE RING, 
 ^act JFiist. 
 
 Ai.i, night he rode till the break of day, 
 
 Nor [)iiused he at any place ; 
 The red blood ran on his booted heel, 
 
 And the white foam flew in his face ; 
 The sides of his courser heaved amain, 
 
 The sides of his coal-black steed, 
 And the sweat ran down, and the smoke cuil'd up, 
 
 Yet slackened he not his speed. 
 The horse and the rider, away, away ! 
 
 Shot on like the arrow's whirr, 
 Till (he hand no longer could hold the rein, 
 
 Nor the heel could plunge the spur ; 
 His limbs all droop'd like a dead man's limbs. 
 
 But his steed did not pause at all : 
 Away, away ! was the rider whiri'd — 
 
 'Tvvas wondrous he did not full ! 
 His finger was girt by a little ring ; 
 
 He look'd upon it by chance. 
 And, with a cry you might hear afar, 
 
 Jit' sprang from his drowsy trance ; 
 
:>S THK ROMAMi: OF THE RING. 
 
 He seized the reins — iVoin his courser's llaiiks 
 
 Hot blooil o'er the rowels spUishM ; 
 •• Awav! away!" he shouted aloud, 
 
 And away, ami away, ho dashM. 
 Away, aiul away, for uiany an hour, 
 
 Ho darted, for many a niih- ; 
 The oovu'ser sniok'd as all on a llanie, 
 
 And the blood in his veins did boil. 
 Away, away ! still he dashes on. 
 
 As a sinner would Hy from death. 
 Till the courser's bounds grew less and less. 
 
 And he labours to heave a breath; 
 "Away ! away !" still the eavaliir cried, 
 
 Still spurring the coal-i)laek steed ; 
 l)ui the shout, too taint, and the gore-clogg'd sjaus 
 
 Too blunt to provoke his speed. 
 Vet onward he loilM, till a broad deep stream 
 
 On a sudden checkM the path : 
 The cavalier sprung from the steed to the ground. 
 
 And he stam[)'d on the ground in wrath : 
 He stamp'd on the ground, and he beat his brow , — 
 
 One glance at the ring he cast : 
 Oh! then might it seem o'er his dread aspt et. 
 
 The scowl of a demon past ! 
 Again on his coal-black steed he sprung. 
 
 And never a word he said. 
 But the sweat tVoni his courser's mane he wrung. 
 
 And patted his bending head ; 
 
TIIK ROMANCE OF TIIK RlNO. 29 
 
 The cotirser noigh'd — with a Budden bound 
 
 His rid(;r throii^^h iiir ho bore : 
 He Hhot to the other wide of tlie nlreani, 
 
 Then fell to rise no more. 
 
 TiiR hllle lilades of the tender graH8 
 
 The ;4ronM<l in soft verdure liid(!, 
 And Ihe leafy btjughs ofehj.slering treea 
 
 Are nodding on every side ; 
 And on every bougli ol" every tree 
 
 Tile l»irds in bright phnnaife glance. 
 While to th<! beat of their tiny I'eef, 
 
 The Uiaves all around them dance. 
 And every bird dolli mo.st Hweclly wing, 
 
 And ri^ilit Itlillui.sotne i.s their Hong, 
 And the breeze attempers it.s voice with theirH, 
 
 A.S Hoftly it Hteals along ; 
 Rut a sweeter notrnd than the song of bird. 
 
 Or ilie miiriimr of paHsing air — 
 Oh ! a sweeter sound by far tnny be heard — 
 
 'Tis tlie voice of a lady fair. 
 That lady is fair as lady may be, 
 
 Too fair (<>r this world of ours ; 
 As a blcKsed vision sIk; might appear. 
 
 Come down from the heavenly bowcfH. 
 3* 
 
30 THE ROMANCE OF THE RING. 
 
 A young boy near her, holds by the rein 
 
 A palfrey as white as snow, 
 For never a speck of other hue 
 
 On a hair of his can you show. 
 His mane is long as a lion's mane. 
 
 His tail to the ground is roll'd ; 
 And he is bedight in caparisons rich, 
 
 All gemm'd with silver and gold. 
 The lady signs, and the little page hastes 
 
 With the palfrey to her side ; 
 She lays her hand on the palfrey's neck. 
 
 As if she would mount and ride ; 
 But there is a rustle among the leaves — 
 
 She pauses to know whence it be. 
 And a man comes forth, and reels to her feet, 
 
 And kneels him down on his knee — 
 He kneels him down on his knee, and signs 
 
 The sign of the cross on his breast. 
 While the lady scanneth his form and face. 
 
 And the garb in which he is digest. 
 His form seems faint as a helpless babe's. 
 
 Yet in sooth 'tis a noble one ; 
 His face drops sweat, as the sky drops rain. 
 
 And is red as the setting sun ; 
 His garb is rich, but in many a place 
 
 Is rent, as in furious toil ; 
 He is booted and spurr'd as should cavalier be. 
 
 And his heels have a bloody soil. 
 
THE ROMANCE OF THE RING. 31 
 
 The stranger's bosom heaveth amain, 
 
 As he kneels to the damsel fair; 
 His lips are too parch'd to shape a word, 
 
 And he hath not a breath to spare. 
 " stranger, what art thou ? and why art thou here ? 
 
 And why dost thou kneel on thy knee? 
 Arise from thy knee, and stand on thy feet, 
 
 And tell me what wouldst thou with me 1" 
 Again the stranger assay'd to speak, 
 
 But assay'd to speak in vain. 
 For his lips were parch'd as the lips of death, 
 
 And his breast still heav'd aniain : 
 He sprang to his feet, he stamp'd on the ground. 
 
 And his teeth in fury gnash'd. 
 And he bit his lip till the blood trickled down, 
 
 And his eyes like a demon's flash'd ; 
 And he laid his hand on the palfrey white. 
 
 As if upon it to spring ; 
 The lady's eye to his finger he turn'd. 
 
 Which was girt with a little ring ; 
 He pointed then to the bloody spurs, 
 
 And then to a distant way. 
 And then again to the palfrey white, 
 
 But never a word could he say. 
 "Beshrew thy meaning," the lady said, 
 
 " Art thou such ungallant knight, 
 A lady must tread on a weary foot. 
 
 While thou ridesther palfrey white?" 
 
32 THE ROMANCE OF THE RING. 
 
 He put his hand to his girdle then, 
 
 And a heavy purse he drew, 
 And that heavy purse all fiU'd with gold. 
 
 To the lady's page he threw ; 
 And a golden chain, with a diamond bright. 
 
 He tore from his breast in haste, 
 And that chain of gold, and that jewel rich, 
 
 In the lady's hand he plac'd. 
 Then to the palfrey he turn'd again ; 
 
 But his arm the lady caught: 
 " Nay, keep thy jewels, and keep thy gold, 
 
 The palfrey is thine unbought ; 
 And I would for thy sake, thou weary knight, 
 
 I could give thee a braver steed ; 
 But here thou must take thy I'est awhile, 
 
 For rest thou surely dost need." 
 No word he said, but he shook his head. 
 
 And again he pointed away ; 
 But she held him the faster by the arm — 
 
 " Now thou shall not say me nay !" 
 She look'd in his face with her eyes so blue, 
 
 So beautiful, and so soft, 
 And the stranger felt his dark eyes melt, 
 
 As they had not melted oft. 
 A light breeze play'd, and her coal-black curls 
 
 Were wafted against his cheek, 
 And the delicate touch thrill'd his every vein, 
 
 And render'd his purpose weak ; 
 
THE ROMANCE UF THE RING 33 
 
 Itiit when she lean'd hor head, and he felt 
 
 Iler clieck iniparliiij:; its j^low 
 To his own, and her breJith to blend with his 
 
 Was sent in a rosy flow, 
 What won<ler that by her eharms, such sway 
 
 In that moment was o'er him won, 
 That could he have spoken, he could bnt nay, 
 
 " Swoct lady, thy will be done !" 
 Upon a soft bed of thoridess flowers, 
 
 The lady bade him recline. 
 And the little page went at her sign, and brought 
 
 In each hand a goblet of wine. 
 " Now pledge me, sir knight," said the lady fair. 
 
 And he raised the brim to his lip ; 
 But he suddenly dash'd his cup to the ground, 
 
 As hers she began to si[) ; 
 For the little ring which his finger girt, 
 
 Again attracted his eye, 
 And he started up from the bed of flowers. 
 
 With a loud and a fearful cry ; 
 She seized his arm, he flung her away — 
 
 lie sprung on the palfrey white, 
 And, like the lightning's vanishing flash. 
 
 He shot from the lady's sight. 
 
34 THE ROMANCE OF THE RING. 
 
 The moon is throned in the lovely blue, 
 
 Which melting upon the eye, 
 Allures tlie wish to be ushor'd there, 
 
 Reclined in its depths to lie ; 
 As yet one visible star alone 
 
 The azure realm divides, 
 Which burns with a bright, though trembling light, 
 
 As before its queen it glides ; 
 On the dew-gemm'd leaves, on tlie placid waves, 
 
 The showering moon-beams play — 
 A beauty Hoats o'er all earth and sky, 
 
 That would shame the glory of day. 
 But there cannot be a thing of life 
 
 Beholding this lovely scene, 
 Or its very breath could now be heard 
 
 Disturbing the silence serene. 
 But see ; yon river, so calm till now. 
 
 Is stirr'd, but not by the gale ; 
 And gliding slowly towards the shore 
 
 Some object appears to sail ; 
 But what can it be I to the di.-tant eye, 
 
 Which a glance upon it shouKl throw, 
 'T would seem the image of ynn pale cloud, 
 
 Or a drifting heap of snow. 
 
THE ROMANCE OF THE 1{[NG. 35 
 
 It sinks, it rises, it floats along 
 
 Till upon the shore 'tis thrown, 
 And there it lies, as immovable 
 
 As a thing to life unknown. 
 Now all is calm, till from yonder wood 
 
 A cavalier suddenly starts, 
 On a steed, which despite his voice and the rein. 
 
 Right on to the river darts ; 
 But he suddenly paused as motionless, 
 
 As he had no power to stir, 
 Nor even to breathe, nor scem'd he to feel 
 
 The plunge of his rider's spur. 
 The cavalier thought he heard a sigh ; 
 
 lie eagerly look'd around ; 
 On a human form he cast his eye; 
 
 He hastily sprung to the ground : 
 He raised the form, and he threw aside 
 
 The folds of the snow-white veil, 
 And the moonlight flow'd, in a silver tide, 
 
 On features lovely and pale. 
 The cavalier starting, dropp'd the form. 
 
 As the features met his sight, 
 'Twas the very lady from whom, but now. 
 
 He had taken the palfrey white ; 
 But again he raised her in his arms. 
 
 And he laid her upon his breast ; 
 He wrung the brine from her coal-black hair 
 
 And his lips to hers he prest ; 
 
36 'I'm; KOMANTK OF TUT; KING 
 
 Thoiv WHS iu> w armtli, nor a sioii of lilt-. 
 
 Hut upon (lu)>o li|»s alou(> ; 
 Auil piMliaps tho waiiutli (hoso lips bostowM, 
 
 Thrv l>ul r»u"«Mvoil I'loiu liis own. 
 In vain lit' soui;hl to )»'('»ll luM' to lilV ; 
 
 So, tliat st)uio aiil hf luij^lit liiul, 
 rpon tho pallViv \w laid her lorni. 
 
 And ho niouiitoii luuistlt" l>oliiuii. 
 Tht" sloctl, whioli had ahuost breathloss stood, 
 
 Noi^h'd with a tciriblo sound: 
 With tho knight untl tho lady into tho \vuvos 
 
 llo dush'd, with a hoadh>n«i hiuuid. 
 'I'ho oavali«M"s otloits lilllt> avail'd 
 
 The inuid or hinisolt'to sustain — 
 Tho wnvos olosod o'er him, and jiushM in his (<ar; 
 
 And whirlM his howildor'd luain. 
 llo laisod his hoad, and i^pou'd his (>vo ; 
 
 Mow straniio was tho scouo hv u»«>t : 
 Ho lay in a lordlv hall unhairn'd. 
 
 Nor ono spi>t i>t"his roho was wot. 
 In (ho midst ottho hall \w saw a throno, 
 
 \Vith scoptro autl diailom ; 
 A lady outor'd, shrinod in a voil. 
 
 ^Yhioh burn'd with many a jjom — 
 She took tho cuvalior by tho hand. 
 
 And nsido sho tluuii hor veil ; 
 Fair ns tho blush ot" nu>rn was tho ohook, 
 
 AVhioh latt> ho hatl soon so palo ; 
 
Tiir; uomancr or 'inn kino. at 
 
 And hor rnven ringlotu down hor neck 
 
 In wild liixuriunco dancndt 
 And her (;yr,s — luT HWCfl bliin o.yuH — on hiH 
 
 In milling tcndorncHH glanced. 
 She led him toward iho throne, and Hign'd 
 
 Ah thuro ho should tukc hiH Hoat ; 
 Ttiit ho whv(m1 hiH hand, and Hhook Win head, 
 
 And kncolM him down at her foot ; 
 And UH ho knelt, cmotionH he felt 
 
 Which were far loo Hwe<;t to Npcak ; 
 Till, f^lnncing his eye toward his hand, 
 
 He .started np with a Hhriok : 
 " Ijady, lady, detain ine not I 
 
 For a deed is to be dorjo ; 
 In beauty's cauMO muHt thin 8 word be drawn 
 
 By the dawn oPto-morrow'H 8»n!" 
 " In beauty's caiiHO? I fear uic, wir kniglit, 
 
 For beauty Htnall in thy care ; 
 And little, methinkH, tiiy eourtewy, 
 
 If thou wilt not hear my prayer. 
 Now hear me, nir knight, by royal birth-right 
 
 A wid«; dominion I sway, 
 lint a bold usurper haH risen in might, 
 
 To make my kingdom his prey. 
 Sir kni^^bt, I am a d(;ffcneelesH maid, 
 
 And well may I wish to cull 
 A knight HO noble and brave an thou. 
 
 Friend, champion, lover, and all ! 
 4 
 
38 THE ROMANCE OF THE RING. 
 
 Yes, lever, sir knight, for wouldst thou but stay 
 
 Till to-morrow, and meet my foe, 
 My heart, my hand, my kingdom, my all. 
 
 As thy guerdon would I bestow !" 
 She threw her white arms around his knees, 
 
 As she knell at the cavalier's feet ; 
 And she look'd in his face — ho could ill resist 
 
 That look so imploring and sweet ! 
 But he cast one glance upon his ring, 
 
 And her clasp he then unbound ; 
 And he said — but with a faltering voice — 
 
 As he raised her from the ground : 
 " This moment must I hasten away, 
 
 In the cause of my lady love ; 
 But when her rescue shall be achieved. 
 
 So bless me the saints above, 
 As I shall return, with all speed I may, 
 
 This arm to devote for thee ; 
 I swear me thy friend, and thy champion. 
 
 Though thy lover I may not be !'' 
 " One moment, sir knight, let me know the claim 
 
 Of her who calls thee away ; 
 If that claim is just, I will pardon thee. 
 
 Nor longer demand thy stay." 
 The knight was impatient to be gone, 
 
 But was check'd by her tender hold, 
 And he had not the heart to spurn her otT , 
 
 So briefly his tale he told. 
 
THE ROMANCE OF THE RING. 39 
 
 5i)nvt jFouitl). 
 
 THE CAVALIER S TAI,E. 
 
 I i.ovEU, and was beloved the same : 
 
 Her young heart had not learn'd 
 The world's dissembling forms ; her flame 
 
 Pure and unhidden burn'd : 
 But noticed by her father's eye, 
 
 It soon alann'd his pride . 
 For his were birth and grandeur high, 
 
 Which fate to me denied. 
 Compelled to part, with broken heart, 
 
 I rush'd the war to seek ; 
 But first we both exchanged an oath, 
 
 The dearest love could speak, 
 Tho ring, which girds my finger now, 
 
 I bade her cherish ever. 
 As a memorial of our vow. 
 
 To love and love forever. 
 I sought the field, I forced to yield 
 
 Full many a ])aynim foe ; 
 Methinks her prayers have been my shield ; 
 
 No arm could lay me low. 
 And now I had return'd in fame 
 
 My Dative land to hail, 
 
40 THE ROMANCE OF THE RING. 
 
 When there a page to meet me came, 
 
 Who told a fearful tale ; 
 The every word convulsed my frame, 
 
 My cheek turn'd ashy pale. 
 He told me that my true-love dear 
 
 Was left an orphan maid, 
 Beneath a guardian's care severe, 
 
 Who dared her rights invade ; 
 Who with usurping grasp detain'd 
 
 Her father's gold and land ; 
 Nor his presumption there restrain'd, 
 
 But dared to claim her hand ; 
 And e'en had sworn, if by her scorn 
 
 His suit were still denied, 
 Upon the third return of morn 
 
 Should ruder means be tried. 
 To-morrow is the destined day. 
 
 But we ere then shall meet : 
 I trust this arm the wretch shall lay 
 
 Before my lady's feet. 
 To shield her from his brutal rage, 
 
 The arm of love to bring. 
 She sent in haste her faithful page. 
 
 To seek me with this ring — 
 The ring, which, when our vows were made, 
 
 I on her linger placed j 
 But, lady, I'm too long delay'd-~ 
 
 To save her I must haste I 
 
THE ROMANCE OF THE RING. 41 
 
 But for her sake, thou lady bright, 
 
 My heart would own fhy spell ; 
 But for her sake I could not slight 
 
 Thy charms angelica! ; 
 But for her sake, not thus I might 
 
 Have power to say, farewell ! 
 
 39art ffUt% 
 
 Onk moment the cavalier waits reply, 
 
 On his car no answer falls ; 
 He looks around, and amazed he stands 
 
 By his lady's castle walls. 
 He look'd around, but he look'd in vain 
 
 For the lovely stranger-queen ; 
 Again his gaze he fix'd in amaze, 
 
 On the unexpected scene ; 
 And as he look'd on the well-known towers, 
 
 On his tniiid recollections rush'd 
 Ofliis childhood bliss, and his boyhood love. 
 
 Till the tears unbidden gush'd : 
 But he swept the glimmering from his eye, 
 
 And looking to heaven he said, 
 " Saiiil Mary be thank'd, by whatever means 
 
 So sudden the space has fled. 
 Which parted me from my lady's foe ; 
 
 Saint Mary, arm me this morn !" 
 
42 THE ROMANCE OF THE RING. 
 
 Hhs sword clash' d on the vibrating shield, 
 
 And loudly ho blowtho horn. 
 Every portal expanded wide, 
 
 But he saw no mortal near ; 
 Onward ho strode from hall to hall, 
 
 But ho found no toe njipour. 
 Onward ho strode, (ill «heok'd by a gate. 
 
 Which was lockM and barr'd as yet ; 
 As it yioldod to his gauntlet's stroke, 
 
 A throng ho suddenly mot ; 
 They rush'd upon him, he know not whenro ; 
 
 But from ihoir rude grasp he sprung 
 With such violent force, that by the shock 
 
 Thev all (o (he ground were tlung. 
 Again (hev rose, and on every side 
 
 Their weapons the knight assail'd. 
 He fought full well, and he fought full long, 
 
 But at last his foes provail'd : 
 Still, (hough by their numbers ovorpowcr'd, 
 
 He struggl'das best ho could. 
 Till the ring from his linger dropp'd to earth, 
 
 Anil all in ania/.eniout stood ; 
 For the ring, expanding, girt (ho hall 
 
 In a circle of burning llanie. 
 And contracting, around the cavalier's foes. 
 
 Nearer and nearer it came, 
 Till all were wither'd in its embrace, 
 
 But harmless it passM the knigh( : 
 
Tin: ROMANCE OF THE JUNO 4;i 
 
 In a moment, the ring, and u heap of dust, 
 
 Alone rcinainM to hJH Hight, 
 The ring on hiw finger he replaced, 
 
 And he found hia strength regain'd 
 That moment ; again from hall to hall, 
 
 Uninjured, and iinreKtraiti'd, 
 He pant, till again hi« onward way 
 
 Was check'd by a massy gate ; 
 In vain his efforts to burst the lock, 
 
 Or shake one bar of the grate ; 
 A laugh of derision shook the walls: 
 
 Through the bars he could see appear 
 A being of lofty size, whose lip 
 
 Was curl'd with a fiend-like sneer, 
 As he pointed to a lady pale, 
 
 Who lifeless lay at his feet : 
 The cavalier struggled with frantic rage, 
 
 Impatient the wretch to meet ; 
 But he raged in vain, till he thought he heard 
 
 The musical whiH|*ering 
 Of a sw<;et tender voice, which said, 
 
 " Now bethink thee of thy ring !" 
 Obeying the voice, he instantly 
 
 The ring from his finger drew ; 
 Again expanding, its fiery wreath 
 
 O'er the massy bars it threw : 
 They dropp'd to the ground like molten had ; 
 
 Onward rush'd the eager kriijiht, 
 
44 THE ROMANCE OF THE KING. 
 
 But ho (omul not the lady nor his foe, 
 
 AVho had borne her from his sight. 
 The little ring he snatch'd from the ground 
 
 And on his tinger replaced, 
 He clash'd his shield again and again, 
 
 Till the foe stepped tbrth in haste ; 
 One scowl they exchanged, but paused not for speech. 
 
 At the clash of each mighty stroke 
 Their weapons quiver'd, until at last 
 
 The sword of the cavalier broke; 
 lie flung it aside, he seized his foe, 
 
 As to grapple his life away ; 
 They struggled as every nerve would burst, 
 
 Till sinking together, thoy 
 K.\hausted upon the ground reclined, 
 
 Yet struggling in vain to rise ; 
 And oft as their glances met, the rage 
 
 Of a demon llash'd in their eyes. 
 Ilark! O hark! it seems that all earth 
 
 Upon its foundation rocks, 
 While ten thousand thunders tear the skies 
 
 In louil antl repeated shocks. 
 The tottering roof, the falling walls, 
 
 The knight and the foe behold ; 
 But each still w rithes in the other's arms, 
 
 Which grasp him in desperate fold. 
 The roof now bursts with an awful crash, 
 
 And b( tore their shudderinff eve 
 
THE ROMANCE OF TIIi: IlhNO. 45 
 
 Appear'd iinfoKlcd a Blitttt of fire, 
 
 Enwrapping all curlh and sky ! 
 A shriek was heard — the loftie.st tower 
 
 That moment in ruin crash'd, 
 And disclosed a maid, who stood on high, 
 
 Where destruction around her Hash'd ; 
 Her white robes dishevell'd o'er her hung, 
 
 And waved in the blazing air, 
 Which danced around her shuddering limbs. 
 
 And wreath'd in her raven hair. 
 The cavalier would have rush'd to her aid, 
 
 But he could not burst the grasp 
 Of his foe, which so closely press'd him now, 
 
 That he scarce had power to gasp. 
 The cavalier raged at the savage grin, 
 
 And the glance of malicious scorn ; 
 But the more his rage, the more the mirth 
 
 On the hated features worn. 
 " Now by this ring," said the cavalier, 
 
 " If near me be any power 
 Propitious to faithful love like mine, 
 
 Its favour I claim this hour." 
 Instantly, in a whirlwind of flame 
 
 The ground was asunder rent. 
 And shrieking down the burning abysR 
 
 His foe from his sight was sent. 
 The ktkight look'd up where the lady stood ; 
 
 A tower trtinblcd o'er her head ; 
 
46 THE ROMANCE OF THE RING. 
 
 The scorching flames, and the smothering smoke, 
 
 More thickly around her spread ; 
 The ruins roll'd from his climbing foot, 
 
 As he rush'd through the smoke and blaze : 
 In a moment the lady sunk in his arms, 
 
 Shrieking in fear and amaze. 
 He looks below, but the awful depth 
 
 Forbids the desperate spring. 
 Nor can he on the ruins descend, 
 
 While his arms to the lady cling. 
 He looks above, merciful heaven ! 
 
 The tower now bends to its fall ! 
 The knight in despair, could scarce breathe a prayer, 
 
 On the guardian power to call. 
 He heard a crash — he averted his eye — 
 
 Nearer he drew to his breast 
 The lady, as he said, " AVe must die, 
 
 But dying with thee lam blest!'' 
 
 ^art Siytl). 
 
 The knight look'd around — he could ill expect 
 Such a scene would his eye await : 
 
 Unharm'd the lady lay at his feet, 
 By his father's castle-gate. 
 
 The vassals clasp'd his knees, and his name 
 Repeated in shouts of joy ; 
 
THE ROMANCE OF THE RING. 47 
 
 And forth the old warrior tottering came 
 
 To welcome his fjallant boy. 
 As soon as the cavalier was released 
 
 From the fond paternal embrace, 
 Ho raised the lady, who lay at his feet, 
 
 And eagerly look'd in her face ; 
 He started away, he clench'd his hands, 
 
 He gnash'd his teeth in despair ; 
 " Is it thou I have saved from those fatal towers — 
 
 While she^-has she periah'd there?" 
 She open'd her eyes, she sprung to his neck, — 
 
 " My love, and art thou restored 1 
 The dangers I've met I shall not regret, 
 
 Since redeem'd by my true-love's sword." 
 Such voice, such look, he had heard and seen 
 
 In the joy of his youthful day ; 
 But the features are those of the stranger-queen, 
 
 Who had tempted him on his way. 
 lie looks again, and he cannot tell 
 
 If it be his true-love or not ; 
 For, perhaps in his absence, aome trait of hers 
 
 Might either be changed or forgot. 
 Raising his eye, ho saw on the sky 
 
 A halo of dazzling light, 
 And in a car, with many a star, 
 
 Bespangled, a being bright 
 Was seen to glide, till it paused beside 
 
 The wondering lady and knight. 
 
48 THE ROMANCE OF THE RING. 
 
 From luT dazzling face when it hover'd near, 
 
 Thoy hill their eyes on the ground » 
 Her accents floated into their ear« 
 
 In soft and musical sound : 
 '♦ Arise, sir knight, she hids thee arise, 
 
 Who has well approved thy worth ; 
 Arise, fair maid, she bids thee arise, 
 
 Who has loved thee from thy birth. 
 Nay, lady, shun not my presence thus, 
 
 As it threaten'd danger nigh ; 
 Thy dearest welcome 1 should connnand, 
 
 Thy Guardian Genius am I. 
 From thy earliest hour it has been my care 
 
 To shield thee from every ill, 
 And my guardian wing shall o'ershadow thee 
 
 To thy latest moment still. 
 Sir knight, 'twas I who the token brought 
 
 To tell thee thy lady's need ; 
 'Twas I who wing'd thy impetuous flight 
 
 Upon an earthly steed ; 
 'Twas I who assumed this lady's channs, 
 
 The fairest that can be worn, 
 Sur|)assing all by thy memory sketch'd 
 
 Of the dawn of her beauty's mom; 
 And thus I met thee in beauty's bower, 
 
 And in regal grandeur's hall. 
 Where the smile of love, nor ambition's j>ower. 
 
 Thy heart ci.>uld change or enthral. 
 
THE ROMANOK OK TllK RING. 49 
 
 Through many peril.s hawt thou boon led, 
 
 Hut thy soul its strrn^fth iipprovfd ; 
 Many tcinptiitiouH around thee .s|)r<!ad, 
 
 But thy faith was still uiunovod. 
 Thine is a heart that can nover be 
 
 Kstrangcd fr«)rn r.onstiuicy'H r«'i<;n, 
 And tu such a heart the hand is due 
 
 Which else thou shoiddst ne'er obtain. 
 Here is thy ring, restore it, sir knight, 
 
 To the hand I now link to tliinc ; 
 Of your heart's dearest oath, let it be to ye boUi 
 
 Forcv« r and ever the sign. 
 This ring was to the(! a talisman 
 
 To save thc^e all danger through ; 
 This ring on thy hand, and Irulh in thy sold. 
 
 No evil could thee sididuc. 
 And should the spell from the ring depart, 
 
 When danger again is known. 
 Little the need of thy faithful heart 
 
 For other aid than its own. 
 Ye faithful pair, it shall be my care 
 
 That blessings shall both await ; 
 But if at times ye are df)oni'd (o bear 
 
 The scowl of a darker fate. 
 Ye still may triumph o'er its control. 
 
 If ye still to each other cling ; 
 For evil can never enslave the soul 
 
 Encircled by Constancv's Rino. 
 6 
 
THE BELL SONG. 
 
TiiK iiuitprirtls fortius po^•m arc in a jjroat nioasuro dorivod fVoin 
 Soliillor's Lifit von dfr (ilocke ; wliich «l lirst 1 ooiitiim|)latoil traiia- 
 liitinji, bill I conolinlod lo troal iho sul>|fct altor my own fashion, as 
 several new ideas sujfjjosloil then\selves; ami in truth the jieculiar 
 moiils of the original cannot be transfused into any other language ; 
 besides, the technical details of a bell-foundry can bo of no interoat to 
 those who havo not wisnessed the process. My object has been to 
 Kci/e the poetical features of Schiller's production, to incorporate thenv 
 with niv own ideas, and to produce a poeu). which, unembarrassed by 
 local or technical allusions, may address itself to every class of rea- 
 ders. 
 
I hi: hki-i. ,s()N(i. 
 
 AiiovK \]\<- Hr«;ri«H ol «;iirllily liilniur, 
 
 In Iiciivoii'h ciciir vaiill, iIk; IiIu*;, IIk; l)ri;^lit, 
 Sli«; Hvvin^H on ln<^li, lli<; lliiinil«;r'H nci^liltoiir, 
 
 And Itorflcrs on lli<- woild oCliLilil, 
 Wlmns roll tin; Mtarn in «.ir«;ling inuy,«M, 
 
 lli'.r vinno, r<->i|M)n(iiri)/ to their moiij^, 
 VVIiiU'- ihf.y r«-|»(!iit lh<;ir MnUrr'n pniiM*.'^, 
 
 And Icttd III*; crowned ytiti uloii^. 
 
 II<:r iron lon^nr,, m fiirri'iMt nictiMiirc, 
 
 HpcaliM of llic Hol< mil and Mnhlini*-, 
 And lioiirly wiirnM hsoCHk- lr«!iHiir«; 
 
 W#! fionrly waHirt, nnvuliicd linu; ! 
 'i'o dcHtiriy u voir*; irnpurtin^, 
 
 8he MwirifjH, iU chan^^cH to iirocjanr', 
 And hither, thittior, Hwiflly Mtnrting, 
 
 KcepM time to hfo'n incoriMtant game. 
 
64 Tilt: ui;li, si)\(^ 
 
 Ilin^ (ml ! iiii'>; out « joyous j;roetiiig. 
 
 In \vt>lroiu(i (o tho lovcl) child. 
 Whoso litlU- lu iut begins its beating 
 
 III slurnbor's urnis, tho undefiled ! 
 His future lot of gloom or splendor 
 Is curtain'd iVoui his vision tender ; 
 A mother's love, her best mlorniiig. 
 Keeps wali'h upon his i;,i)lileu uiorniug. 
 
 Yeius spictl hke wnul — tor scenes of strife 
 
 Prou I vouth iVom girlhood tiercely sunders, 
 IMuiiges nito the sti>ruis ofiile, 
 
 And waiuUrs through the world of woiulers ; 
 A sti anger, to his father's home 
 
 Ketiuniug, lo! in youthfid splendor, 
 All-gh>rious as an angel come 
 
 Troin htMvt-n, with bashful look and tender, 
 And blushing like the orient skies, 
 The maiden stanils before his eyes ! 
 
 His heart is sei/.t>d with nameless yearning ; 
 
 ll»> tin US asiile ; alone he strays; 
 His eyes with sudilen teal's are burning ; 
 
 Again he turns to seek her gaze, 
 And blush ingly her pathway traces 
 
 I'ntil luM- greeting makes him blest : 
 He seeks the fairest tlower, and places 
 
 Its beauty on her lairer breast ! 
 
TllK blJLL SONG. 55 
 
 Young love ! what lon^iri^' ho|)t;H iinroldcdi . 
 
 Tliy golden tiiiu- ! wliut joyH ol" price ! 
 The eye an open heaven boholdeih, 
 
 And swells the heart in Paradise ! 
 Young love ! uh, coiddst ihou ever nourish 
 The golden dream ! for ever llourisli ! 
 
 Let him, enthrall'd by passion strong, 
 
 Approve, Ixiforc the luHting union. 
 
 If heart with heart in in conununion ; 
 The dream is short, repentance long ! 
 
 Ring out ! ring out! for triumph blesses 
 
 The youth who by the altar Htands, 
 And lovely in the youtjg bride's tresses 
 
 The nuptial wreath entwines its band.s. 
 Alas! that life's enraptur'd fire 
 
 Should with the May of life decay, 
 The fairy dreams of young desire 
 
 With veil and girdle rent away ! 
 
 Flits passion's lujur ; 
 
 Yet love remaiaetli, 
 A ripening flower 
 
 Which truth sustaineth. 
 Into hostile life 
 
 Man forth must enter ; 
 In toil and strife 
 
 His thoughts must centre ; 
 
56 THE BKLL SONG. 
 
 In planting ami making, 
 Pursuing and taking, 
 llisking and timing, 
 Plotting and raring. 
 Anil running his race 
 In turtuno's chase- 
 no prospers: — forlutn^ rolls u houmlless title ; 
 His stores increase ; (>xpinuls his ilwelling wide 
 And therein rnleth 
 
 The ntatron chaste, 
 The chilihen's mother, 
 
 With w isilouj graced ; 
 In her circle moving, 
 Smiling or reproving, 
 The little girl directing, 
 The Uttle boy correcting, 
 She plies her husy lingers 
 With work that never lingers, 
 Her husband's gains increases 
 With tod that never ceases. 
 And tills the closets with tVagrant stores, 
 And spins at the wheel that rolls and snores. 
 And piles the wardrobe's well-polish'd row 
 With the shinmg wool, and the tlax ot'snow, 
 And joins witli the sliowy the useful ever, 
 And rosteth never! 
 
THE nVAA. SONG. 67 
 
 The father with a glance of pride 
 
 Looks from his f"ur-ext(;ii(Jetl dwelling, 
 And counts his gains on (svory side, 
 
 And views his stores with treaHures swelling ; 
 Then boasting lifts his haughty hand — 
 " Finn as the earth's foinidulions stand, 
 Against misfortune's rudest shock, 
 My house is founded on a rock !" 
 Vain boast ! who can resist an hour 
 To destiny's almi;,'-hty j)ower '{ 
 
 Ring out ! afeaiful [)eal ring out, 
 To second terror's fnuitic shout! 
 
 Hark ! the crashing thunder 
 
 R(!uds the skies asunder ! 
 liightnings (|uiver, flash and shiver, 
 And roll through heaven a blazing river ; 
 Earth reflects the burning flood, 
 Glow the skies as red as blood, 
 
 IJut not with glow of day ; 
 Yet the night is glaring bright 
 As the sun's meridian light : 
 
 The clamour of dismay 
 Higher swells and higher ; 
 Loud and loud the bell is rung. 
 Flies the cry from tongue to tongue, 
 "Fire! fire! fire!" 
 
58 THE BELL SONG. 
 
 Lo ! a pyramid of flame 
 Fierce as if from hell it came, 
 Clouds of smoke around it curl'd, 
 Soars as if to show the world 
 
 Creation's funeral pyre ! 
 Lo ! unconquerably strong 
 Rolls the burning- Hood along", 
 While the air around its path 
 Glows as with an oven's wrath — 
 
 Fire ! lire ! tire ! 
 
 Sinks the roof and totters wall, 
 
 Pillars shake and columns fall ; 
 
 Treasure «on by toil of years 
 
 111 a moment disappears; 
 
 All are running, rushing, flying, 
 
 Shouting, shrieking, trembling, crying ; 
 
 Beneath the smoking ruins crush'd 
 The boast is moaning, 
 The child is groaning, 
 
 Till both in suflbcatioa hush'd. 
 
 But steady stand an active band — 
 The buckets fly tVom hand to hand, 
 And from the toiliny: engine rushes 
 A cataract in showery gushes : 
 
 In vain — in vain — 
 
 The splashing rain 
 
THE U1:LL song. 59 
 
 Thft mipfhly oloment drvourH 
 III Hcorn ; — fhrii |ralli<Titi<5 up itH powerH, 
 Ah if iVodi l)il)ouring eurth 
 
 A Titan strugglod into hirtli, 
 
 Towrrs <^i<iii(-likr; on l>i{^li ; 
 And iKilplcsH, to its godlike Htrcngth 
 Man yieIdH the hopclcHS Htrifc nt length. 
 
 And Htnndu all idly by, 
 While the poHsesHionH, late hiH trust, 
 Melt like a Hhrivcll'd scroll in dust. 
 
 One hfickwnrd ghmro he calmly throws 
 
 Upon his fortune's grave, 
 'F'lirn turns awfiy in slnrn repose. 
 
 His coining fate to hrave. 
 Though destiny her power has |)rov«'d, 
 
 She spares liini still the best of blisses; 
 lie counts the heads of his beloved, 
 
 And lo ! not one dear head he misses! 
 
 Ring out ! ring out! 
 
 Sad and slow 
 Tolls the bell 
 
 The dirge of woe. 
 In solemti train, a band of mourning friends 
 A wanderer to the home of all attends. 
 
CO 'I'llK 1U;I,L SONG. 
 
 Alas! (h«' wife! (h<> loiul, ll\e clurishM! 
 'I'lic fuithriil nutthor ! she has porish'il ! 
 From luir huNbniur!* amis for over 
 The Prince of Tenors bids h«>r st>ver, 
 And bt»nr8 her, witli liis shntU>\vy Imnd, 
 Kroni amid the l(Mider band, 
 \\ hicli sh(> in blooming' boaiily bore 
 To him, uliom n1u< may bh>ss no more ; 
 And on htT l)osi>in nomishinfj;, 
 NValch'd cnniptnr'd llt>nrishin<;, 
 With the lov(>, the pri<U', the |deasnre, 
 ftlodier-hearts ahme ean nieuanro. 
 
 All ((Mxler ties of home! ye sever! 
 
 I<\>r she who was (he l\onse*s niothcr 
 In bed of darkness sh><'|>s for ever, 
 
 And now her pliice receives another ! 
 Poor orphans! where Ix-i gentle "uidanee? 
 
 Her tendt<r eare all (>ls«> above ( 
 Ah ! where she rnled a stran«ier rnleth, 
 
 AN hose love is — /icf a molluM's love! 
 
 Hinji; ont ! rin«j ont ! a peal of dread! 
 
 Sonnd trnmpet ! thnndt>r drnm ! 
 Wake — rise — prepaie for battle's b(>d ! 
 
 The foe ! tln>v eome ! (lu>veome! 
 All start in a bewilder'd drt>am, 
 And woman's shrit>k, and ehildlunul's scream 
 
THi: niAA. SONO'. CI 
 
 llulf drown (he hcll'M ularrriH ; 
 Wliih; yoijfh und tnanliood liUHtfjrj oiif, 
 And rush, and run, and Htorrri, and «hout — 
 
 '♦ To artriH ! to arrrm ! to arrn« !" 
 
 A thuiiHand torches Kcuttcr light 
 On HConcH of fury or affright ; 
 While women, with dinhcvcll'd buir 
 And wringing handH, dart here und there, 
 And wfc(;() and clamour, loud aiifl wild, 
 All h(;l[»l(;HH as tlu; wondering chdd ; 
 Or otherH with Mcraphic eye 
 liOok up, and truxt in Ciod on high, 
 Pale, hreathlcHH, nilent, and Huhlirne, 
 Like Htatue of the Grecian time ! 
 And others bowed in weeping prayer, 
 Invoke a heavenly Father'M care. 
 
 ffood Cod ! who would not die for thcKC — 
 The cherub child that claspH our knees, 
 
 The wife of angel charms, 
 The virgin, fresh in beauty's glow, 
 'I'hc home, our paradise below — 
 
 To arms ! !o arrns ! to armfc ! 
 
 A thousiifid mingled weapons clash 
 ArKJ quiver in the torch's fki^h ; 
 6 
 
«2 THE BELL SONC?. 
 
 Some grasp the swoid, the musket sonic. 
 The axe, the spade, whalc'cr juay come 
 
 To the unfiiniish'd hand : 
 StafT, ckib or missile — all may serve — 
 No weapon but the arm can nerve 
 
 To guard its native land. 
 
 Haik! the storm of battle! 
 
 Guns and cannons ttumder 
 
 As earth would rend asunder; 
 Bullets whiz and rattle. 
 
 Showering death around ; 
 
 Thousands press the ground. 
 And groan away their souls ; 
 
 Every sword is ruddy, 
 
 Every hand is bloody, 
 And Carnage o'er the field her iron chariot rolls. 
 
 See the foe receding 
 
 From the victor's might; 
 See the hero leading 
 
 To pursue their flight ; 
 See the warrior bleeding, 
 Struggling still to fight — 
 On the field disabled lying, 
 Sec he grasps his weapon dying, 
 
 Shouting, while from the battle storm. 
 The foes, confusedly flying, 
 
THR BELL SONG. 63 
 
 Trample upon his mangled form, 
 Lightnings flashing from the eyes 
 Closed in death that soon ehali be, 
 " Victory! 
 Victory !" 
 Away he springs 
 On conquest's wings, 
 And in the bright embrace of glory dies! 
 
 King out ! ring out a solemn peal. 
 While to the King of kings we kneel. 
 
 Through whom our arms prevail ! 
 Each soldier bends his laurell'd brow, 
 And bows the knee no foe could bow — 
 
 Hail ! God of Armies ! hail ! 
 
 Around him kneel the wife, the mother, 
 The child, caressing each the other ; 
 
 Their cheeks, but now so pale, 
 ^Yith triumph flushing, while their eyea 
 In rapture swimming seek the skies — 
 Hail! God of Glory! hail! 
 
 Ring oit ! a glorious peal ring out ! 
 
 While like a rushing storm we rise, 
 
 And stand erect, and rend the skies 
 With one triumphant shout ! 
 Hurrah ! 
 
64 THE BELL SONG. 
 
 Ring out ! ling out in tone sublime — 
 liow anful ! .swells the glorious chime ! 
 Ascending heaven, it peals along 
 To God as our thanksgiving song. 
 To God, the Father of the free, 
 Who givoth us the victory ! 
 
TALES. 
 
 6* 
 
THE BATTLE OF THE SNAKES. 
 
 AN EPISTLE TO. CATHAIllNE. 
 
 Dear Kate — More dear than I can tell ! 
 No matter, though — you know it well — 
 Dear Kate — in this delicious weather, 
 I wish, don't you ? we were together ; 
 That we might wander, hand in hand, 
 Amid those scenes of fairy land, 
 Which now, to glad thy vision, rise, 
 And fancy pictures to mine eyes ! 
 To climb the hills, the woods explore, 
 Or ramble by the sea-beat shore, 
 Where ringing waves delight thine ear 
 With music, mine shall never hear : 
 Or rove where sweetest flowers embower 
 My pretty Kate, "a sweeter flower!" 
 While balmy zephyrs kiss thy brow 
 Of beauty — (might I kiss it now !) 
 
 Mid scenes like these, one summer's day, 
 A lordly serpent wound his way ; 
 From Ratler's line of length he came. 
 And gloried in a tail of fame ; 
 
6S 'riii: HA rn.K ov Tin; snaki;s. 
 
 His pointed tongue, his spnrkling eyes, 
 His porpcous rol)o of thousand dyos — 
 All those wilh lapluie swillM his hide, 
 For snuki's, liUo t)th«T tools, have prido. 
 
 Whilo winding through a tungled brnkc, 
 Ho ohanood to moot anothor simke — 
 AVho wore a suit t>(* sober blaok, 
 Whieh might bceonio a dootor's baok — 
 And, coiled in many a riuii;, roelined, 
 While tlunmhts as eoilod pcrplox'd his mind. 
 
 " (Jood |)arson Hlaek ! nh, is it you {" 
 Qui^th flippant lluttle, " How d' yc do?" 
 *' I'm pretty well, 1 thank you, sir.'' 
 " How's Mrs. lllack?" ''All's well with her," 
 ** How are tho little dtfars?" " So, so ; 
 The youngest hns been ailing though.'' 
 " How go the times T' " Oh, very bad }" 
 Sighed Hlaek : " Tho times are truly sad, 
 "VVhie'.i i)hmgos me in deep dojoetion. 
 And miikos njo iusk, in sago rellection, 
 Why nil that is beneath tho ski«s,. 
 Is what it is — not otherwise ! 
 Why Vrovidouee, by strange mistakes, 
 Instead ot' men, has made us snakes ; 
 Why wo lire born — and wherefore die^ 
 
 Why " " Kool !" quoth liattle, " eare not why! 
 
 Ho who hiiusell' will wretched nmke, 
 Deserves tho hiss ofevorv snake. 
 
THE HATrU: OF Tin: S.NAIvKS 6!> 
 
 Enougli for us tliut ull on caitli 
 
 Is full of Ijcuuty, life untJ iiiiitli ; 
 
 >Vhile of its joys I have a Hh.'irc, 
 
 I care not who may cherish care — 
 
 Mine he tlie maxim, wiuc and just : 
 
 ' Live while you live, die when you munt !' " 
 
 *' Then, die this moment !" lilaek exclaim'd, 
 
 With foaming h|) and eye intlatned. 
 
 At this the other »hook his rattle, 
 
 To sound the stirrinj^ charge to hattle. 
 
 So fiercely they together Hew, 
 
 They bit each other right in two, 
 
 Quolli liluck, " I beg a truce, my friend. 
 
 To ponder on my latter end !" 
 
 So each in difiorent windings pa8t» 
 
 To seek his tail, and fix it fast ; 
 
 But in their hurry, by mistake, 
 
 IJlack got the tail of Rattlesnake, 
 
 And Rattle to himself did tack* 
 
 Unwittingly, the tail of lilack. 
 
 Now Rattle fiercely shook the taH 
 He thought his own, without avail. 
 To wake the sound once wont to be. 
 His " earih(iuake voice of victory ! " 
 Now right, now left, he lash'd the ground^ 
 But, burn the tail ! it gave no sound ! 
 He swings it left, he swings it right — 
 In vain, poor Rattle bursts with spite. 
 
70 THE BAT ILK OF TilK SNAKES. 
 
 IJluck, for his part, had run away I 
 
 IJiit as ho runs, to his {hsinny, 
 Loiul iVoiu his tail a laUlo peals, 
 As if Iho foo woro at his heels, 
 IMoio fast he runs, niort> loud it rincfi 
 And louder, as he faster springs : 
 lie runs for six successive suns, 
 And still it rattles as he runs: 
 lie runs and runs, till out of breath, 
 And then the rattle sleeps in deatli. 
 
 You say ths story can't be true — 
 Dear Kate, 1 (|uite agree with vou ! 
 Hut now that 1 nuist say farewell, 
 One little word of truth I'll tell ; 
 And well you know 1 speak sincerely, 
 In saying," I\al(\ 1 love i/on </oaW(//'' 
 
 Farew ell ! may every joy awuit 
 IMy own, luy gi>oil, uiy gentle Kate I 
 God and good angels bless vou, tieaiest ! 
 Sweet Kate, adieu ! Your fri^Mul sincerest. 
 
 PosTsriMi'i' — •Sonu' say they arc not able 
 To see llie moral of my fable ! 
 Inform them, had the snakes been wise, 
 'Tis like they would have usfd llwir eyes! 
 And secondly, it henc5e appears. 
 Our eyes are bettor tluxn our ears ; 
 From which retlection 1 contrive 
 Sonic consolation to derive ; 
 
TIIF, n.VTTLE OF THE .SNAKES. 7| 
 
 Fur lliDiii^h I <)!'( have si^liod, my dciir, 
 Thill it is not for iik; to hear 
 The thrilhiig tniisic of thy voice, 
 Timt would my wry heart rejoice : 
 Yet when my urm is round thee wreathing, 
 And on tl»y brow my Up is breathing — 
 Wlien thy dear head my hand caressen. 
 Or wreathes among thy raven tresses, 
 Or clasps in mine thy fairy lingers, 
 While fond my look upon theo lingers, 
 Then, while cmparadised, F trace, 
 Alfeetion breathing from thy face — • 
 Oil, then I feel in deep delight, 
 There is a musick roii tmt. sioiit! 
 Wliieh I would not exchange f(tr all 
 That ever on the car may fall. 
 
Tin: c'ONQUKKOirS IIETUIIN. 
 
 Hi: c'omos, \\v rotiKs* in pomp aiul prido 
 
 .ViwI pUniduU" nf powv r ; 
 Jle conns to rlaim liis l\aiij;luy luiilo. 
 
 With kin^iU>ms lor his iU>\\or. 
 A thousand slavrs ol" princoly birth 
 
 Arc soattriinji in his train 
 'ri\i> riihi'st troasnns torn iVoni t'lirth. 
 
 Or jt^Wi'ls ol' llio main. 
 
 A tlu>iisand <iorj;;iHHis baniUTs stroam, 
 The \\ ini^s ol" vaKnir's lanoo : 
 Ton thousand Uni^lits in arinonr <;Unim, 
 Ton tliousand coursers pranoo. 
 Drums, trumpets, clarions, swell en ln<;h 
 
 Tlie miiihtv eon»ineror's tame. 
 \nd nnllitms thunder to the .-k_v 
 The oehocs olhis name. 
 
THE CONgiJEROR'S JiKTIIJlN. 73 
 
 He Htrtnd.s IIS nii;;lit Apollo Htaiid, 
 
 Sublime ill {godlike ffiuco, 
 Upon a Hpcar ho leans his hand, 
 
 ISiil proudly lifts his face, 
 A robe, where gold and jewels blaze, 
 
 Scarce veils his iiiiiiily Irainc ; 
 A diadeirk of glory plays 
 
 To Hhade his eyes of flame. 
 
 He camo where stood that lady proud, 
 
 With bearing bold and free ; 
 His hauf^hty li<;ad he lightly bow'd. 
 
 And half inclined his knee ; 
 But it was widi a curling smile, 
 
 That HoeiiKuJ but to deride, 
 And scowi'd upon liis brow the while 
 
 Unconquerable pride. 
 
 '• Ah lady ; 'twas a bitter jest. 
 
 Yet was it well, in sooth, 
 To scorn me, when I was at best 
 
 A fair and gentle youth ; 
 When all the glory 1 could boast 
 
 Was an unsullied name ; 
 And all my genius served at most 
 
 An idle song to frame ! 
 7 
 
74 THE CONQFETlOirs KETURX. 
 
 But now I've wndeil flnough the flood 
 
 or many a nation's tears, 
 And tloliigoil earth witli seas of blood 
 
 That shall not ebb lor years — 
 Now with tlio sword of victory, 
 
 And sceptre of a king ; — 
 I will not deem it is for thee 
 
 To scorn my olToring. 
 
 I told thee once of beauty's power, 
 
 [ tell thee of my own ; 
 I told thee once of virtue's dower — 
 
 My virtue is a throne. 
 I once implored thy pride to bow — 
 
 I beckon thee to rise ; 
 The proudest place I offer now 
 
 Of all beneath the skies. 
 
 A marble smile the lady smiled ; 
 
 " Not thus can I be won ; 
 Though thrones on thrones thy arm has piled» 
 
 Until they hit the sun ; 
 Though thou hast humbled to thy sway 
 
 Creation's every part. 
 Thou hast not found the only May 
 
 To conquer woman's heart. 
 
THE CONQIIEROirs KETIIUN. 75 
 
 For there is one thing which thy .soul 
 
 Could never truly know, 
 Though thou Imst raved of its control, 
 
 And well assumed the show : 
 O'er woman's hcort it wcsro u Kpell 
 
 All pomp and power ahovc ; 
 For learn the truth, and mark it well — 
 
 Her love is won — by love ! " 
 
rni'. rK\ui.-ii\Nni<i:i> knikk. 
 
 A 1 irri r. bov sils by his motluM's (omb, 
 AjuI wutors tho Howors tlml above ht'r bloom, 
 \\\{\\ tours, that (low (V«>in liis t)i|ihanM ho;ut, 
 Sobbiii;;- us il'it would burst J.purt. 
 
 lie looUs anuuiil with a •.\hii\»o of tear. 
 
 To 8*00 that no ruthloss ryo is near, 
 
 Thon thaws tVom his b»>som his eherishM {o\. 
 
 His mother's last iiil\ to her own th\ir bov : 
 
 It was a Ui\it"e with a silv<>r blade. 
 
 And ol n>olher-ot'-|)earl was the handle made. 
 
 'I'lial hide bov has a step-dame sten\. 
 >Vhi»so ovil leelin^';s ajjtainst him luirn ; 
 'rhoiij;h onei> on llu- oi|>hai\ bov she sniiU'd, 
 And Kindlv liealed her husband's child ; 
 l>ul a ihaniie was i>n her le«>Iinij,s thrown 
 >Vhei\ slie hud a hlth< l>abe of her own. 
 For she loveil her bid)e wuh a lo\«< so {:;roal, 
 Uei Kne l"or the orphaii turnM to hate : 
 
Tin; I'D A II I, IIANDI.KI) KNIKK 77 
 
 For it wtiH II lliou|i{lil hIio could iio<. boar 
 'I'liitt Kfhviii HJioiild Imi liJH (iitlin'H licir; 
 " And id! would 1x1 lor my f-lidd," hIio niikI 
 In hrr guilty liciut, " wrrc IhiI llrlwin dcud!" 
 
 Oil, II motlicr'H lovn in n hn\y lliirif^ ! 
 
 Jiul ovrn ("rom (j;ood iriiiy ovil N|)riii^, 
 
 And tlnty win* woidrl lovn with it HiiilrHM love, 
 
 MunI NCil llii'ir idl'i (lioipi oii tliin^ot id»(iv<-, 
 
 Nor ovort for poriMliin/; tliin^N of'rlny, 
 
 From («od ami liiM law l»«; led a^lray. 
 
 I'oor Mdwin! Ii<^ round il ii rriirl clinngd, 
 l''or all w.iM hillir ami ull waM Mlnuigo ; 
 Now lirHt in IiIh lif'o \ui frit iind Ik nrd 
 'J'lio pOHMiomito l)low, iifid tli»; ntti>ry woni, 
 And IwM'W not what it r(/idd m<aii lh<: winh', 
 For li<; h;i<l li< <'ii ruled \>y \iKih and Hmili-. 
 
 IIiH falher had ^on'; nhroarj for rt time 
 
 To gather wealth in a diMtant elime, 
 
 And Fid win wnn h-ft in hin Mtrp-darnri'M (»ow»;r, 
 
 Who heat and ahii K-d him ryt-ry hour. 
 
 Mnt once in a day the /)r|ihaii fed, 
 
 And then on a hrme or a eriiMl of hread, 
 
 litH Htrefi;^lli deeay'd, and a f«i}/rr eume, 
 
 Hut il inude nochunge in the ruthleMN dumo ; 
 
 7* 
 
7S THE PEARL-HANDLED KNIFE. 
 
 She spnrn'd him up as he sunk on the floor, 
 From which he ghxdly would rise no more ; 
 And she made him work hkc the veriest slave ; 
 How he long'd to rest in his mother's grave ! 
 
 To that motluM-'s grave he crawled one day, 
 When he thought the dreaded eye away, 
 And told her unconscious ear the wrong 
 Her poor little hoy liad endured so long ; 
 Then drew from a secret slit in his vest 
 Tlie only comfort he yet possest ; 
 It was a knife with a silver blade, 
 And of mother-of-pearl w as the handle made. 
 
 Alas ! for the cruel stcp-dame was near, 
 And heard what ho n^eant for his mother's ear ; 
 On her evil mind temptation flash'd : 
 At a blow the boy to earth she dash'd, — 
 She snalch'd the knife with a sudden start, 
 And buried the blade in the orphan's heart. 
 
 She open'd the door of his mother's tomb. 
 And thrust him down in that place of gloom ; 
 She haston'd home, and she laugh'd so wild — 
 " Come kiss me ! all is your own, my child." 
 
 A month elaps'd, and the father came, 
 And kiss'd his babe and his smiling dame ; 
 
THE PEARL-HANDLED KNIFE. 79 
 
 But when he nsk'd for his pretty boy, 
 To deepest sorrow it changed his joy ; 
 •' The child," she said, "of a fever died, 
 And was buried at his mother's side." 
 
 A year and another pass'd away, 
 And the babe grew lovelier every day : 
 It was a bright and a merry child, 
 And the father of half his grief beguil'd. 
 Another year and another past. 
 And the child in beauty flourish'd fast. 
 And the father's heart no more was sad, 
 And the mother's heart was proud and glad : 
 She forgot her sin, as too many do, 
 And fancied God had forgot it too. 
 A guilty deed may be long conccal'd, 
 But its time shall come to be reveal'd. 
 And long unpunish'd may flourish crime, 
 But vengeance cometh in God's good time. 
 
 It was a fair and a sunny day. 
 
 And Robert went into the fields to play ; 
 
 But the shades of night began to fall 
 
 Before ho return'd to his father's hall — 
 
 " Oh Robert ! where have you been so long ? 
 
 My child, to wander so late is wrong." 
 
80 THE PEARL-HANDLED KNIFE. 
 
 " Mama, I am sorry I stay'd so late, — 
 
 This morning- 1 pass'd by the churchyard gate, 
 
 And found it open ; I wander'd there, 
 
 To gather the flowers so fresh and fair; 
 
 And weary at last of my play alone, 
 
 I lay me down on the nearest stone. 
 
 I had not been resting long, before 
 
 I noticed a tomb with a little door : 
 
 Oh mother ! I gazed in fear and doubt, 
 
 For open'd the door, and a boy stept out ; 
 
 But when his beauty beam'd on my sight. 
 
 My fear gave way to a strange delight. 
 
 His cheek was fair as the sunset skies, 
 
 And like stars of heaven, his sparkling eyes : 
 
 Adown hid shoulders his ringlets roU'd, 
 
 And glisten'd and gleam'd in sunny gold ; 
 
 But the charm all other charms above, 
 
 Was the smile that melted the heart to love ; 
 
 Yet was it a sad and a serious smile, 
 
 And the tears would start to your eyes the while. 
 
 He came where I lay ; — he spoke — the sound 
 
 Breathed music in all the air around , 
 
 He lay at my side, and he took my hand, 
 
 And he talk'd of a brighter and better land. 
 
 Where nothing of evil can enter in, 
 
 Nor sickness nor death, nor sorrow nor sin ; 
 
THE PEARL-HANDLED KNIFE. 81 
 
 Where God's holy children, a radiant band,. 
 
 In his garden of glory walk hand in hand ; 
 
 Where all is bliss, and all is love — 
 
 And he whisper'd — *0h come to my home above!' 
 
 And thus we talk'd till the close of day, 
 
 And then we arose to go away ; 
 
 But he flung his arms around me, mother. 
 
 And kiss'd my forehead, and call'd mc — * Brother!' 
 
 And as he turn'd to descend the grave, 
 
 He gave me a keepsake — see what he gave !" 
 
 The mother look'd — with a frantic start 
 
 She plung'd it into her guilty heart. 
 
 It was a knife with a silver blade. 
 
 And of mother-of-pearl was the handle made ! 
 
THE ENCHANTED CUP. 
 
 " Those only can consider any personal deformity a fit object of 
 ridicule, who, from some deficiency in the reasoning powers, are in- 
 capable of this obvious reflection — that if any peculiarity, which now 
 passes for a deformity, were to become universal, from that moment 
 it would be considered the standard of beauty, and the want of it a 
 deformity." 
 
 JOHXSON. 
 
 A PAIR of arms, hands, legs and feet, 
 And eyes and ears our form discloses ; 
 
 But why, for symmetry complete, 
 Why have we not a pair of noses ? 
 
 In truth there bloom'd, in early times. 
 One nose behind, and one before. 
 
 But ah ! a lilack magician's crimes 
 The loss have doom'd us to deplore ! 
 
 There was a maid beyond compare, 
 Who flourish'd then as beauty's rose ; 
 
 How glorious from her raven hair 
 Emerg'd the whiteness of her nose ! 
 
THE ENCHANTED CUP. 83 
 
 She had a lover young and brave, 
 
 ^Vho soon would claim her as his bride ; 
 
 But Sombruer, to the fiends a slave, 
 His arts to blast their love applied. 
 
 He filled a cup wth magic wine. 
 
 And placed it in the lovers' way ; 
 Poor Jocond ! what a fate is thine ! 
 
 How soon art thou the wizard's prey ! 
 
 He drains the ciip — he sighs for more — 
 
 But louder will he sigh, to find 
 The nose he had behind before. 
 
 Departs, and leaves no trace behind! 
 
 The women shudder'd at the sight, 
 
 A howl from all the dogs arose ; 
 The children shouted with affright, 
 
 " Oh mother ! he has lost a nose !" 
 
 His lady spurn'd him from the breast 
 That once such fond affection tvarm'd ; 
 
 Her shrieks ascended with the rest ; 
 
 " Get out! get out ! you wretch deform'd!" 
 
 The wizard knew the lovers were 
 
 Protected by a fairy dame. 
 Whose skill could with his own compare, 
 
 And fear'd she would revenge the shame. 
 
84 THE ENCHANTED CUP. 
 
 So least his noses, both or either 
 Sliould be domolish'd by her art, 
 
 He laid a spell on both, that neither 
 Should ever from himself depart. 
 
 For Jocond to the fairy tied, 
 
 And tearful told his piteous case ; 
 
 '♦ Alas," she said, " upon thy head 
 A second nose shall have no place. 
 
 No magic power, not Sombmev^s own, 
 The spells of Sombrucr can unbind ; 
 
 But he shall rue himself alone, 
 
 The mischief for your head design'd." 
 
 She waived her wand, and then Avas clear 
 To all mankind its virtues rare, 
 
 For all the noses in the rear 
 Departing melted — into hair ! 
 
 All, all but Sombruer's, which remains 
 Fix'd as a mountain by his charms, 
 
 He little by his cunning gains ; 
 
 'Tis Sombruer's presence now alarms. 
 
 'Tis Sombruer, who, where'er he goes, 
 Is doom'd the children's scream to hear 
 
 '" Oh, granny ! what is that? a nose ! 
 A nose behind his head ! oh dear !" 
 
THE ENCHANTED CUP. g^ 
 
 Where'er he came, the ladies scream'cJ, 
 
 The nasal pair their feelings shock'cJ, 
 While Jocond's single nose was deem'd 
 
 A beauty — though a little cock'd ! 
 
 Oh, may the warning reach your breast. 
 
 With which I wind the story up : — 
 Since we have but one nose at best, 
 
 Beware of the enchanted cup ! 
 
 GOOD NIGHT, MAMA! 
 
 A LITTLE girl, some five years old, 
 Came, like the morning star, 
 
 Each morrow to her mother's heart — 
 " Good morning, dear mama!" 
 
 And running to her mother's arms, 
 
 She kiss'd her o'er and o'er, 
 And prattled out her love to one 
 
 Who loved her more and more. 
 
 And when night's curtains closed around 
 
 The sun's resplendent car. 
 She kiss'd her mother, and she said, 
 
 " Good night, my dear mama !'* 
 8 
 
86 GOOD NIGHT, MAMA. 
 
 Poor little girl ! her mother died. 
 And to the grave was borne ; 
 
 Where shall she find a mother now. 
 To greet at night and mom ? 
 
 Next morning, when she rose and dress'd, 
 
 And found no mother near, 
 Without a word she slipp'd away, 
 
 To seek her mother dear. 
 
 In haste she to the churchyard ran ; 
 
 From home it was not far ; 
 She clasp'd her mother's grave, and said, 
 
 " Good morning, dear mama !" 
 
 All day she linger'd near the grave, 
 
 Till rose the evening star, 
 Then turning slowly home, she said, 
 
 " Good night, my dear mama !" 
 
TIIK LAST GAME. 
 
 'TwAS truce ; and warlike Frederick's forces 
 Were longing for their wonted courses 
 Of blood and plunder, wounds and glory ; 
 
 And none more grieved at the inaction 
 Than did the hero of our story, 
 
 Who sigh'd at every moment's fraction 
 That was not spent in glorious fight, 
 
 Or at the scientific game 
 Of nine-pins, his supreme delight, 
 
 Which oft had crown'd his skill with fame. 
 
 Imagine his impatient sorrow, 
 
 To hear that there would be perform'd 
 A match at nine-pins on the morrow, 
 
 Some ten leagues off! He stamp'd and storm'd, 
 And tore his beard with such a twirl. 
 It put his whiskers out of curl : 
 " Stop !" roar'd his Colonel ; " that's a sin 
 Against all rule and discipline !" 
 
8<^ THE LAST OA.MK. 
 
 " Sir, I appeal (o youilmmanil)'," 
 Exclainicil Guslavus with a sigh^ 
 
 " Allow mc, in your great urbanity, 
 SoniQ three days' absence, or I die !" 
 
 The colonel, happy to rct'iise, 
 
 Courteous replied, " Die if you choose !" 
 
 Gustave in desperation sought 
 
 The king, ami i'altered his petition — 
 •* I really know not it' I ought, 
 
 But may," said he, " on one condition : 
 .For I have not forgot the day 
 
 When, in the thickest of the fight, 
 Xou slicedan Austrian's head away, 
 
 Then bowled it on Avith all your might ; 
 Against another head it dashed. 
 And that against another splashed, 
 A third was sniash'd, 
 A fourth was crash'd, 
 Head knocking head 
 Till nine were sped ; 
 IVhich proves, when used with apt agility, 
 The nine-jjin game of sonie utility." 
 
 ** A head," said Baron Krakerkramp, 
 
 The bluntest talker in the camp, 
 H A head can many wonders work ; 
 
THE LAST GAME. gg 
 
 And I could tell, an please you, me, 
 A solemn story of (ho Turk, 
 
 Would make your majesty admire." 
 
 " Of that anon. We first dismiss 
 
 Our suitor. Upon one condition 
 Gustavo, we yield to your petition. 
 
 And the condition's this — 
 Three days we grant ynti, and no more — 
 'Tis certain death to linger four. — 
 Now J5aron with the tale proceed — " 
 " 'Tis worth a royal ear indeed. 
 
 This Turk, an please you, had two brothers, 
 Who shared with him their father's throne, 
 
 And being jealous of the others, 
 He diought it best to reign alone ; 
 
 So, that too high they might not tread. 
 
 He made (hem shorter by the head. 
 
 One night upon his couch reposing 
 Complacently, and lightly dozing, 
 
 lie heard a groan and raised his head. 
 And partially his eyes unclosing. 
 
 Beheld, advancing (o his bed. 
 His brodicr Haniet, who awhile 
 Glared on him with a ghastly smile, 
 Then nodded with a bow profound; — 
 
 Off rolled the head upon (he ground, 
 
 8* 
 
90 THE LAST GAME. 
 
 Away it bounded, here and there. 
 While Ilamct chased it everywhere. 
 Till down flic stairs it roll'd at last, 
 By headlong llamct foUow'd fast. 
 
 "Bisniillah !" said the Turk; '"Tis strange. 
 But shall not my. repose derange." 
 
 Next night rcturn'd the virion duly, 
 But 'twas not Ilaniet then, but Muley : 
 "When Muley bowed his head, it dropped 
 And rolled about, nor ever stopped ; 
 Away it bounced from place to place. 
 And Muley followed hard in chaso. 
 The Turk in meditation deep 
 Began to muse, and foil asleep. 
 
 The third night, with a sullen frown 
 
 Both brothers stalked before his glance. 
 Then hand in hand began to prance 
 Around his bed, in spectral dance. 
 Their heads still bobbing up and down, 
 O; whirling round and round and round. 
 But never dropping to the ground. 
 
 At last the Turk began to say, 
 " I wish they'd bow and run away 
 As on each former night ; 
 
THE LAST GAME. 91 
 
 Too long they break my slumber sweet ; ' 
 A hint I'll give them to repeat 
 
 Their congees so polite!" 
 With that he bowed — his head with theirs 
 Rolled on the floor and down the stairs, 
 Each headless brother giving chase, 
 Till closed in Eblis' hall the race." 
 
 Such was the Baron's tale. With ours 
 
 We now proceed, Gustavus came 
 Where nine-pin heroes proved their powers — 
 
 lie played — and lost ! — oh hour of shame ! 
 Again he played, and yet again. 
 Till day had closed, but all in vain ! 
 
 Misguided man ! another day 
 
 lie ventured on the game to waste, 
 
 Believing that by extra haste 
 He might retrieve the short delay, 
 He played — he lost — four days had passed 
 When hopeless, he returned at last, 
 
 " Off with his head !" exclaimed the king ; 
 
 " The doom is just !" was his reply, 
 
 " Yet let iKie not dishonoured die ! 
 Oh grant me this one only thing. 
 That I may win another game. 
 And thus retrieve my sullied fame." 
 
92 'I'm: I. AST (JAMIv 
 
 '• Pltiy !'' said llio nioiianh — " if voii viii 
 
 I pardon you — pivpaio — l)c»in — '' 
 
 Tlic luon arc placed — with raj)luro firctl, 
 
 GustaviH now from earth 1o sky 
 
 III a l\ur freir/.y rolls his v\o 
 Like one inspired ! 
 
 •' Descend, ye iiimi ! dcvseend, ye nine !" 
 
 Not one of all (he nine would stir! 
 They served him as (hoso nymplis divine 
 
 Have served loo many a worshijiper. 
 lie phiy(Ml and hist, and hist and phiyed 
 Nor any w ill to pause h(<fraved ; 
 
 TI.e iiinj.', his patience <'ouhl coir.nuuid 
 No more, and to the headsman signed, 
 AVho at tlu> signal ^;lipped behind 
 
 And raised tlu> wt>apon in his hand, 
 And as (iuslavus sfoojXMl to howl, 
 
 The liead was from his shoulders lopped, 
 
 And in his open linnds it dropped — 
 Swift o'(>r the lii-ltl \\r inad(> it roll — 
 Success atU'nds the novel hall — 
 Down fall tlu> nine-pins, one and all ! 
 
 " I've won the game !" exclaimed the lu-ad — 
 *' You're |>ardoneil !" gracious I'^rederick f-aid. 
 
MARY'S nVM. 
 
 As Mnry wilh licr lip al' rosrs, 
 
 Was tripiHng o'er llic llinvciy mead, 
 
 A foolish littlo !)('(; .supposes 
 Tlic rosy lip a rose irjdoiu], 
 
 And so, aslonisli'd a< Ilio bliss, 
 
 IIo steals tho honey of her Kiss. 
 
 A inomoiil ther(3 he wantons — lif^hlly 
 lie spoils away on careless winj^ — 
 
 IJiit ah ! why swells (hat woimd unsightly? 
 The rascal ! ho has left a sling ! 
 
 She runs to mo with weeping eyes, 
 
 Sweet images of April skies. 
 
 '^ Bo this," said I, " to heedless misses, 
 A warning they slioidd hear in mind ; 
 
 Too oft a lover steals their kisses, 
 
 Then flics, and leaves a sting behind." 
 
 " This may be wisdom to be sure," 
 
 Said Mary — '« but I want a euro." 
 
94 MAKVS BF.E. 
 
 What could I «lo { Ti) case the swolling 
 My lips with h(M"s impiissioiiM moot — 
 
 And trust ino, tVom so sweet a dwoUiug, 
 I found the voiy poison sweet ! 
 
 Fond boy ! uiicoiisrious ol'th(> siunit, 
 
 I suck'd tlu' poi.-^on (o my hi'iut ! 
 
 THE SUICIDE. 
 
 WiiKN Wilham sont n loKcr to doclaro 
 
 That he was wedded to a fairer fair, 
 
 Poor Lucy shrieked — " To hfi — to all — adieu !' 
 
 And in the iiidiji;nation of despair, 
 
 She tore the letter and her rnven hair, 
 
 She beat her bosom and the post-boy too — 
 Then to an open window wildly flew. 
 
 And madly (lung herself into a ehair. 
 
CATCHING A FOX. 
 £1 jfable. 
 
 INSCniPliU TO MV LITTLE I'llIEND CATIlAItlNE. 
 
 The lisc of provisions, and Imrdnoss of times, 
 Had thinned a poor fox like; a stringer of rhymes, 
 And thinner and thinner became the poor sinner, 
 With never a pcmiy to get him a dinner ; 
 (For me, when I come to that sorrowful state, 
 I know where to go — to my own little Kate.) 
 But the fox only went, with a sigh and a shiver, 
 To drink, lik(! a temperance man, at the river; 
 When, hark ! from the stream came a musical voice, 
 
 Disturbing his reverie sad — 
 " Rejoice ! rejoice ! 
 Rejoice ! rejoice ! 
 
 Oh ! is not an oyster a clever lad !" 
 
 The fox turned round with a cheerful gleam, 
 And dipped his tail in tho cooling stream, 
 And twitched and twirled it with all his might, 
 But never a fish was the fool to bite ; 
 This the oyster saw, while his merry voice. 
 
96 CATCHING A FOX. 
 
 Repeated the chorus glad : 
 " Rejoice ! rejoice ! 
 Rejoice ! rejoice ! 
 Oh ! is not an oyster a clever lad?' 
 
 Thought the oyster, " Now is the time for glory, 
 And to win a name in historic story ! 
 This mighty fox shall my triumph grace, 
 And my fame shall shine on the oyster race." 
 This said, he snapped at the fox's tail, 
 While all the fishes stood mute and pale. 
 " Sir fox," says he, with exulting voice, 
 
 " I guess you are caught, egad ! 
 Rejoice ! rejoice ! 
 Rejoice ! rejoice ! 
 
 Oh ! is not an oyster a clever lad !" 
 
 Away from the river sped the fox, 
 Nor stopfied till he came to a pile of rocks. 
 Then he swung his tail right fast and well. 
 And banged the oyster out of his shell, 
 And ate him up for a dinner choice, 
 And chuckled the chorus glad, 
 " Rejoice ! rejoice ! 
 Rejoice ! rejoice ! 
 Oh ! is not an oyster a clever lad I" 
 
THE OLD CLOCK. 
 
 Two Yankee wags, one summer day, 
 Stopped at a tavern on their way, 
 Supped, frolicked, late retired to rest, 
 And woke to breakfast on the best. 
 
 The breakfast over, Tom and Will 
 
 Sent for the landlord and the bill ; 
 
 Will looked it over ; " Very right — 
 
 But hold ! what wonder meets my sight ! 
 
 Tom ! the surprise is quite a shock !" — 
 
 " What wonder ? where ?"— " The clock ! the clock !' 
 
 Tom and the landlord in amaze 
 Stared at the clock with stupid gaze, 
 And for a moment neither spoke ; 
 At last the landlord silence broke — 
 
 " You mean the clock that's ticking there I 
 
 I see no wonder I declare ; 
 
 Though may be, if the truth were told, 
 
 'Tis rather ugly — somewhat old ; 
 
 Yet time it keeps to half a minute ; 
 
 But, if you please, what wonder's in it?" 
 
98 THE OLD CLOCK. 
 
 " Tom ; don't you recollect," said Will, 
 " The clock at Jersey near the mill» 
 The very image of this present, 
 With which I won the wager pleasant V 
 Will ended with a knowing wink — 
 Tom scratched his head and tried to think. 
 "Sir, begging pardon for inquiring," 
 The landlord said, with grin admiring, 
 " What wager was it?" 
 
 " You remember 
 It happened, Tom, in last December, 
 In sport I bet a Jersey Blue 
 That it was more than he could do, 
 To make his finger go and come 
 In keeping with the pendulum, 
 Repeating, till one hour should close, 
 Still, ' Here she goes — and there she goes' — 
 He lost the bet in half a minute." 
 
 " Well, if i would, the dense is in it !" 
 Exclaimed the landlord ; " try me yet. 
 And fifty dollars be the bet." 
 " Agreed, but we will play some trick 
 To make you of the bargain sick!" 
 " I'm up to that !" 
 
THE OLD CLOCK. 99 
 
 " Don't make us wait, 
 Begin. The clock is striking eight." 
 He seats himself, and left and right 
 His finger wags with all its might, 
 And hoarse his voice and hoarser grows 
 With — " here sJic goes — and there she goesP'' 
 
 " Hold !" sdid the Yankee, " plank the ready !" 
 
 The landlord wagged his finger steady, 
 
 While his left hand, as well as able, 
 
 Conveyed a purse upon the table. 
 
 " Tom, with the money let's be off!" 
 
 This made the landlord only scoff; 
 
 He heard them running down the stair, 
 
 But was not tempted from his chair ; 
 
 Thought he, " the fools ! I'll bite them yet I 
 
 So poor a trick shan't win the bet." 
 
 And loud and loud the chorus rose 
 
 (Jf, " here she goes — and there she goes /" 
 
 While right and left his finger swung, 
 
 In keeping to his clock and tongue. 
 
 His mother happened in, to see 
 
 Her daughter ; " where is Mrs. B ? 
 
 When will she come, as you suppose ? 
 Son !" 
 
 " Here she goes — and t/icrc she goes .'" 
 
100 THE OLD CLOCK. 
 
 " Hero ? — where ?" — the hidy in surprise 
 His fingor followed with her eyes ; 
 " Son, why that stoutly jjazo and sad ? 
 Those words — that motion — are you mad ? 
 I?ut here's your wile — perhaps she knows 
 Ami" 
 
 " Here she ixoes — nnti Uitre s^ir [i;ors /' 
 
 His wiib surveyed him with aliuiii. 
 And rushed to him and sei/.ed his arm ; 
 Ho shook her oiY, and to and fro 
 His linger persevered to go, 
 While curl'd his very nose with ire, 
 That she against him should conspire, 
 And with more furious tone arose 
 The, ^^ here she ^oes — and tlwve sJic f:;oes !'' 
 
 " liawks!" scrcam'd the wife, " I'm in a whirl ! 
 Uuu down and hriiig the little girl ; 
 She is his darling, and who knows 
 
 P>„t" 
 
 " I fere she n'ocs — a)Hl tlityc she i^-oes /'' 
 
 " Lawks ! he is mail ! wl\ut nunle him thus ? 
 Good lord ! what w ill become of us ? 
 Run for a doctor — run — run — run — 
 For doctor Ikown, and doctor Hun, 
 And doctor Ulack, and doctor While, 
 And doctor Grey, with all your might." 
 
THE ()].]) (;i-()(;i< 101 
 
 Tho doctors cnine, and look'd and wondcrr'd, 
 
 And sliook their hciid.s, and |>nu8cd and pondor'd, 
 
 'Till one: |)r()|)OS(ul ho should be bled, 
 
 " No — Icoch'd you mean — " the other said— 
 
 "Clap on a blister," roar'd another, 
 
 " No — cup him" — ''no — trepnn him, brother !" 
 
 A sixth would recommend a |)urge. 
 
 The next would an emetic urge, 
 
 Tho eighth, just come from a dissection. 
 
 His verdict gave for an injection ; 
 
 Till' last produced a box of pills, 
 
 A certain cure for earthly ills ; 
 
 " [ had a patient yesternight," 
 
 (^iioth he, " aud wretched was her plif^ht, 
 
 And as the only means to save her 
 
 Three doztri patent pills I gave her. 
 
 And by to-morrow 1 suppose 
 
 That" 
 
 *' Here site frots — utid t/icrc ahe goes !" 
 
 '* You all are fools," the lady said, 
 " The way is, just to shave his head. 
 Kun, bid the barber come anon" — 
 " Thanks mother," thought Iht clever son, 
 " You help the knaves that would have bit me, 
 Hut all creation shan't outwit me !" 
 This to himself, while to and fro 
 His finger perseveres to go, 
 9* 
 
102 THE OLD CLOCK. 
 
 And from his lip no accent flows 
 
 But " here she goes — and Ihere she goes /" 
 
 The barber came — " Lord help him ! what 
 A qucerish customer I've got; 
 But we must do our best to save him — 
 So hold him, gcmmen, while I shavo him !" 
 But here the doctors interpose — 
 
 " A woman never" 
 
 " There she goes /" 
 
 '' A woman is no judge of physic, 
 
 Not even when her baby is sick. 
 
 He must be bled" — " no — no — a blister" — 
 
 '■^ A purge you mean" — " I say a clyster" — 
 
 " No — cup him — " " leech him — " " pills ! pills ! pills !' 
 
 And all the house tl\e uproar fills. 
 
 What means that smile ? what means that shiver t 
 The landlord's limbs with rapture quiver, 
 And triumph brightens up his face — 
 His finger yet shall win the race ! 
 The clock is on the stroke of nine — 
 
 And up he starts " ' Tis mine ! ' tis mine !" 
 
 '' What do you mean V 
 
 " I mean the fifty ! 
 I never spent an hour so thrifty ; 
 But you, who tried to make me lose. 
 Go, burst with envy, if you choose I 
 
THE OLD CLOCK. l03 
 
 But how is this ? where are they ]" 
 
 "Who?" 
 " The gentlemen — I mean the two 
 Came yesterday — are they below V 
 " They galloped off an hour ago." 
 " Oh, purge me ! blister ! shave and bleed ! 
 For, hang the knaves, I'm mad indeed!" 
 
LEONORA. 
 
 A BALLAD, FROM THE GERMAN OK BCRliKi; 
 
 Up starts she from a dream of dread 
 
 At blush of dawning day ; 
 " Art faithless, William ! art thou dead ! 
 
 How long wilt thou delay '^" 
 
 Her lover went with Frederick's might 
 Upon the fields of Prague to fight, 
 And still no tidings came to tell. 
 Or were he ill, or were he well. 
 
 Weary, at last, of war's debate. 
 The sovereigns bade it cease, 
 
 To milder moods subdued their hate. 
 And swore to lasting peace. 
 
 With song and shout the soldiers come, 
 With clash and clang, and roll of drum, 
 Bedeck'd with garlands green and gay, 
 Rejoicing on their homeward way. 
 
LEONORA. 105 
 
 And everywhere, and everywhere, 
 
 With shouts of jubilee. 
 Both old and young, ia throngs repair. 
 
 Their cohiing friends to see. 
 
 " Now God be praised !" said wife and child, 
 And many a bride her " welcome !" smiled ; 
 But Leonor no friend is meeting ; 
 No kiss for her, for her no greeting ! 
 
 From rank to rank she wander'd fast, 
 
 Arid question'd all that came ; 
 In vain she question'd' all that past. 
 
 And named her lover's narne. 
 
 All — all past on — she gazed around — 
 She dash'd herself upon the ground ; 
 She wept — she tore her raven hair. 
 And tost her arms in mad despair ! 
 
 Now hastes to her the mother mild : 
 
 " Oh ! why art thou distrcst ? 
 (iod's pity on my darling child !" 
 
 She clasped her to her breast. 
 
 " Oh, mother ! mother ! gone is gone! 
 Away with all beneath the sun ! 
 In God no mercy can I see ! 
 Ah ! wo is me ! ah I wo is me !" 
 
1116 l.KONOKA. 
 
 " Oh, iiolp her, Lord ! with gracious rye 
 liook down. My child to prayer apply- 
 All — all is well that (lod may do — 
 Oh, («od ! my child willi pity view !" 
 
 •' Oh, mother ! mother! ilreums of air ! 
 
 <Tod deals not well with me. 
 What hel|) have I — what liel[) is prayer I 
 
 No good to como can be." 
 
 '* Help, Lord ! a father is above, 
 Who helps the children of his love — 
 The holy sacrament, my child, 
 Will make thy sharpest sorrow mild." 
 
 " Oh, mother ! mother ! how I burn ! 
 
 All sacraments were vain ; 
 I\o sacrament that can return 
 
 The dead to life again !" 
 
 •' Nay, child, what if the faithless youth 
 1 n stranger lands forgets his truth, 
 And careless of his plighted band. 
 On other maid bestows his hand ; 
 
 • Why, let it go — his worthless heart — 
 And small his gain shall bo : 
 
 riis soul, when soul and body part. 
 Shall rue its perjury." 
 
 
LEONORA. l(,7 
 
 " Oh, inotlier! iiioiIkm- ! goiif is gone! 
 
 Forever must I mourn ! 
 Death ! death I seek ! and death alone ! 
 
 Would I hud ne'er been born ! 
 
 " Go out — forever out — my light! 
 In horror vanish, and in night ! 
 In God no mercy can I see ! 
 Ah ! wo is mo ! ah ! wo is me !" 
 
 " Help, Lord ! nor with my hapless child 
 
 Thy judgment enter in ; 
 She knows not what she utt<;rs wild ; 
 
 Oh count it not her sin. 
 
 " Ah, child ! forget thy earthly rod, 
 And think of heaven, and think of God ; 
 So shall thy soul through all prevail, 
 Nor of its heavenly bridegroom fail." 
 
 " Oh, mother ! mother ! what is heaven ! 
 
 Oh, inothor, what is hell ? 
 With him alone, with him, is heaven — 
 
 Without my William, hell ! 
 
 " Go out — forever out — my light ! 
 In darkness vanish, and in night — 
 Without his sight — without his love — 
 No joy is here — no joy above !" 
 
iOS LBONOJIA. 
 
 Thus raved th« madness of despair 
 That burn'd through brain and vein, 
 
 And rashly God's foreseeing care 
 Slie blamed with thoughts profane. 
 
 She wrung her hands — she beat her breast, 
 
 Until the sun had gone to rest, 
 
 XTntil the golden stars about 
 
 The heavenly arch came dancing out. 
 
 And hark ! without, a tramp, tramp, tramp ! 
 
 Some steed is trampling by ; 
 And clattering ap the stairs, the stamp 
 
 Of knightly feet is nigh. 
 
 And hark ! a tinkle, tinkling ring ; 
 Ijoose swings the bell's vibrating string ; 
 Then comes a voice, and every word 
 Distinctly through the door is heard. 
 
 " Hollo ! hollo ! my child arise ! 
 
 My love, dost wake or sleep ? 
 Was I before thy fancy's eyes ? 
 
 And dost thou laugh or weep ?" 
 
 " Ah ! William ! tliou ! I have not slept 
 Nor smiled, but I have watch'd and wept, 
 And sorely sorrow'd for thy sight — 
 Whence ridest thou so late at night?" 
 
LEONORA. 109 
 
 ♦ At midnight wc prepare the steed, 
 
 And iVoiii IJohoinia ride. 
 I mounted late — but good my speed ; 
 
 I come for Ihee, my bride !" 
 
 '• Ah ^Villiam, here awhile repose ; 
 The wind is whistling as it blows ; 
 My heart's beloved, my own, my best, 
 Come to my arms for warmth and rest." 
 
 " And let it whistle — let it blow — 
 
 Yes, let it blow, my dear ! 
 Steed stamps — spur clinks — 'tis time to go— 
 
 I may not house me here. 
 
 " Come, gird thyself, and spring and swing 
 Upon my steed, behind me cling ; 
 To-night, before I wed my bride. 
 We have a hundred miles to ride." 
 
 *' A hundred miles ere morning's light, 
 
 To seek the bridal liower ! 
 And hark ! the clock ! 'tis late at night — 
 
 'Tis the eleventh hour." 
 
 ■ J-.ook there ! look here ! the moon shines clear ! 
 How swift the dead and we career ! 
 Come, come, my love, to-night wc wed ; 
 To-night we reach the bridal bed !" 
 10 
 
no LEONORA. 
 
 " But where the bridal chamber, say ? 
 
 What bed doth it contain 1 " 
 " Small, cool, and quiet — far away , 
 
 Six planks, and shingles twain." 
 
 " Hast room for me ?" " For me and thee ; 
 Come, gird thyself, and mount with me ; 
 Spring, cling behind — the guests await. 
 And open stands the bridal gate." 
 
 She girt herself — she sprung — she swung 
 
 Upon the steed in haste ; 
 Her lily hands were clasp'd and clung 
 
 Around the rider's waist. 
 
 And hurra ! hurra ! patter patter ! 
 On — on — like whistling Avinds they clatter ; 
 The steed and rider panting bound. 
 And sparks and pebbles flash around. 
 
 Swift on the left — swift on the right — 
 
 Sweeps every scene asunder ! 
 Heaths, meadows, fields — how swift their flight ! 
 
 And how the bridges thunder ! 
 
 " Love, dost thou fear 1 the moon shines clear ; 
 Hurrah ! how- swift the dead career ! 
 " Love, dost thou fear ? and dost thou dread 
 The dead ?" " Ah ! no— but leave the dead !" 
 
LEONORA. Ill 
 
 Hark ! hark ! the raven flaps his wiii}^ ; ♦ 
 
 What songs and sounds of gloom ! 
 The knell they ring — the dirge they sing — 
 
 *' Lei us the dead entomb !" 
 
 And now, with coflin and with bier, 
 A luneral train approaches near : 
 The gurgled song was like the sound 
 Of croaking frogs in marshy ground. 
 
 " With clang and cry the dead entomb 
 
 When midnight hour has ceast ; 
 But now I take my young wife home ; 
 
 Come to the marriage feast. 
 
 " Come — with the chorus, come along, 
 Sacristan — croak the bridal song ; 
 Come, priest, and be thy blessing said 
 Before we seek the bridal bed." 
 
 The bier is gone, and hushed the song, 
 
 The train behind him steals. 
 And hurry-scurry scuds along 
 
 Hard at his courser's heels. 
 
 And faster faster, patter patter. 
 On — on — like whistling winds they clatter ; 
 The steed and rider panting bound, 
 And s])arks and pebbles flash around. 
 
112 LEONORA. 
 
 Hon swift CMi right, how swift on leH, 
 Hills, woods and valos sweep by ! 
 
 How swill on loft, iind right, and loft, 
 The towns aj>d hamlets fly! 
 
 '■'■ liOvo, dost tljou fear .' (ho moon shines clear 
 Hurrah ! how swit\ the dead career ! 
 liOve, dost thou fear? and dost thou dread 
 The dead ?" " Oh ! lot thorn rest, the dead !" 
 
 IJohold ! n gibbet ! phantoms dance 
 
 Around the gory wheel ; 
 Half visible by moonlight's glance 
 
 An airy rabble reel. 
 
 *'Ho! ho! come, rabble, hasten here. 
 Come, rabble, after me career ; 
 For yo the bridal dance must tread 
 When we repair to bridal bed." 
 
 lie spoko ! the rabble, hush, hush, hush ! 
 
 Behind him rustling thrOng, 
 As whirlwinds through the forest rush. 
 
 And brush its leaves along. 
 
 And faster faster, patter patter. 
 On — on — like whistlinu; winds Ihey clatter ; 
 The steed and rider panting bound. 
 And sparks and pebbles llash around. 
 
LEONORA. 113 
 
 How flics whatc'cr the moon beholds ! 
 
 I low swill it flics — how far! 
 How flies whate'er the sky enfolds, 
 
 The heavens with every star ! 
 
 " Lovo, dost thou fear ? the moon shines clear ! 
 Hurrah ! how swift the dead career ! 
 Love, dost thou fear? and dost thou dread 
 The (lead ?" " Ah, wo ! why name the dead ?" 
 
 •' On — on — my steed — the cock will crow — 
 
 The sand will soon be run — 
 The morning air begins to blow — 
 
 Ho ! ho ! the goal is won ! 
 
 " Our race is run — prepare — prepare ; 
 The bridal bed awaits us there ; 
 Ho ! ho ! how swift the dead career ! 
 He welcome, love, our home is here I" 
 
 And instant to an iron gate, 
 
 With loosened rein they speed ; 
 With slender rod he smites the grate, 
 
 And bolt and bar recede. 
 
 The gate flies back with clashing crash. 
 And onward over graves they dash, 
 Where in the moon's uncertain light, 
 The grave-stones gleam in ghastly white. 
 10* 
 
114 LEONORA. 
 
 liO ! In the twiiikliiif]; of an oyc — 
 Hush! husli ! n fearliil wonder! 
 
 The rider's vestments piecemeal fly, 
 liikc tintliM- drop asunder ! 
 
 His head a ghastly skull has grown, 
 For flesh, and hair, and eyes have flown ; 
 His form a skeleton unfolds. 
 An hour-glass and a scythe ho holds. 
 
 The courser snorts and wildly rears. 
 
 And scatters flro around ; 
 And, lo ! at (»nce he disappears 
 
 Beneath the yawning ground. 
 
 And howls and howls arc heard on high, 
 And iVoui the graves a mournful cry ; 
 How heats her heart — how heaves her breath 
 Tost to and fro l)y life and death ! 
 
 Now hand in hund, by moonlight's glance, 
 
 Appear the spectral crowd, 
 In circling measures weave the dance, 
 
 And howl those words aloud : 
 
 " Bo patient — patient — break thy heart, 
 
 But blame not God's control ! 
 Thy time has come with life to part ; 
 
 God's mercy on thy soul !" 
 
MY COUSIN; 
 
 AMUSEMENTS OF A KAINY T3AY. 
 
As some apology for llio slight coniiuclioii between the lollowing 
 chapters, it may be as well to observe, that they originally formed part 
 of a more cxlemled work, which the author has coiicluiled to supjircss. 
 
MY COUSIN. 
 
 1. 
 
 Law proceedings. 
 
 *' A\ iiAT arc you doing, John ?" inquired my cousin, look- 
 ing over my shoulder one rainy morning, while my pen was 
 racing at the rate of fifty miles an hour, and my desk was 
 creaking beneath the load of papers. 
 
 " I am copying the pleadings in an action for assault and 
 battery ; for that whereas the said defendant with force and 
 arms, to wit, with sword.>!, staves, ropes, hands, and feet, 
 made an assaidt upon the said plaintiff, and did then and 
 there pull said plaintifT's nose, so that his life was greatly 
 despaired of, and other injuries to him then and there did, 
 against the peace of the people of this state, and fo the great 
 damage of the said plaintiff. And also, that the said defend- 
 ant, on the same day and year, and at the place aforesaid, 
 with force and arms, to wit, with swords, staves, ropes, hands, 
 and feet, made another as.sault upon said plaintiff, anrl did 
 then and there pull his nose, so tliat his life was greatly des- 
 paired of. And also" 
 
118 MV COUSIN 
 
 " That will do, John. I must devise some expedient to 
 abridge your labour. The whole substance of the pleadings 
 on both sidles could be expressed in half a page — as for 
 example — 
 
 Hig<2:ins vs. lVi<igiiis — fViggins ads. Higgins. 
 Declaralion. 
 
 Defendant pulled [tlaintiff's nose. 
 Vka. 
 
 You lie. 
 
 JVotlce. 
 
 Take notice that on the trial of the above cause the de- 
 fendant will insist upon, and give in evidence, under the 
 general issue above pleaded, that before, and at, and after the 
 said time of said supposed pulling, the said nose of said 
 plaintiff was, then and there, of an unreasonable, unwarrant- 
 able, egregious, preposterous and impertinent length, thereby 
 mviting and justifying such supposed pulling as aforesaid. 
 xVnd this defendant, by leave of the court here for this pur- 
 pose iirst had and obtained, will further insist upon and give 
 n\ eviilcncc, that at and before the said time when, &c., this 
 defendant requested and admonished said plaintift* to protect 
 said nose from being pulled, by soaping the same ; Avhich 
 reasonable request of this defendant, this defendant well 
 hoped would have been complied with. Nevertheless, the 
 said plaintift' not regarding, &c., but wickedly and fraudulent- 
 ly contriving and intending, craftily and subtly to inju.e and 
 oppress this defendant in the premises, wholly and utterly ne- 
 glected and refused to soap said nose, or any part thereof. 
 
MY COUSIN. 119 
 
 Wherefore this dciendant, as he lawfully might do, peaceably 
 and quirtiv laid hands upon said nose of said plaintiff, and 
 tweaked the tJanic with all imaginable tenderness and de- 
 corum. 
 
 Jieplicaliou. 
 
 You lie. 
 You lie. 
 Vou lie. 
 
 Rejoimhr. 
 Surrejoinder. 
 
 Opinion. 
 
 Per curiam. You lie on both sides. 
 Verdict of the Jurrj. 
 
 We can make neither head nor tail ol" the maltcr. Let's 
 go to dinner. 
 
 " A most righteous verdict, in which I woidd readily eon- 
 cur, especially if the dinner was a good one. However, I 
 would suggest that in the notice accompanying the plea, the 
 professional pen appears to be still running riot in its a<>- 
 customcd luxuriance." 
 
 " A thorough reform cannot he expected all at otict . 1 
 am a friend to gradual reform ; like the Irishman, who being 
 ordered by his master to cut his dog's tail off, had not the 
 heart to chop it all off at one blow, and humanely slice<l it 
 away little by little ! But this is sorry amusement for such 
 dismal weather, give your pen a moment's repose, while I 
 read the paper for you. 
 
IL 
 
 THE INDEPENDENT BANNER OF TKb'TH. 
 
 Peter Hannibal C.esak Snigoins, Editor and proprietor. 
 
 New-York, Friday, April 1. 
 
 EDITORIAL. 
 
 Our readers are aware that a discussion has been going 
 nn tor the past week between our paper and the JMorning 
 Oracle, on the subject of the weather in January. As we 
 are now about to bring it to a conchision, \\e will, with our 
 usual impartialit)', present a brief sunnnaiy of the arguments 
 on botli sides. On Monday last the Oracle came out with 
 this extraordinary assertion : " The weather is gencra/li] cold 
 in January !" Whether this egregious falsehood originated 
 in the preposterous ignorance of the booby who »i/sconducts 
 the Oracle, or in his notorious contempt of veracity, we leave 
 it to our readers to determine. Be that as it may, we imme- 
 diately set the Oracle right in our paper of Tuesday, by 
 stating the fact that the weather is seldom cold in January. 
 The Oracle, with its usual intemperate violence, responded 
 that the weather is always cold in January ! ! To which we, 
 of course, replied that the weather is never cold in January. 
 
MY COUSIN. 121 
 
 Will our readers believe it ! Yesterday, stubbornly resisting 
 all conviction, and plunging deeper and deeper in the mire of 
 ignorance and duplicity, the Oracle had the assurance to 
 allege that the weather in January is as cold as a cucumber ! ! ! 
 We have omitted the personalities and vituperations with 
 which the Oracle has lc)aded us in the course of this contro- 
 versy. We disdain to recriminate. We consider all per- 
 sonalities beneath a gentleman ; and wrapt up in dignified 
 Milence, we only smile at the abuse of this idiot, this sneaking 
 buffoon, this thrice sodden dunce, this demon in human 
 shape — we mean in a shape intended to be human ; this red- 
 haired, blear-eyed, hump-backed, bandy-legged, bottle-nosed, 
 long-eared donkey ; this chaanting cherub, this Sing-Sing 
 singing-bird, this bank hireling, this kitchen cabinet scullion, 
 this shirtless ruffian ; this drinking, lying, swearing, gambling, 
 thieving, libidinous, murdering son of a gun ; this walking 
 corruption, this thrice-cow-skinned-and-ninety-ninc-times- 
 kicked poltroon, this bought and sold Judas Iscariot — this — 
 in short, this editor of the Oracle. Once for all, to put an 
 end to the controversy, we assure the Oracle, point blank, 
 and to his utter confusion, that the weather in January is as 
 hot as Vesuvius. 
 
 OUR CIRCULATIO.t. 
 
 Our circulation! ay, there's the rub, there's the thorn in 
 our neighbor's side, the pricks against which the clumsy fool 
 of the Oracle is kicking. It is welJ known our circulation 
 
 11 
 
12a MY COUSIN. 
 
 exceeds that of any other paper by one hundred thousand 
 copies. Hence wc are most resorted to by advertisers; and 
 this accounts for the malicious attacks made upon us by the 
 Oracle — the following, for example : 
 
 " Thoro is an expedient in imicli request with the scribblers of tlic 
 day to bring anybody's reputation into disrepute, by propounding, 
 through the columns of a newspaper, a string of impertinent queries, 
 calling upon tlie devoted individual to admit or deny thai he has been 
 guilty of ihe most unheard-of crimes. This course is sure of answering 
 its purpose one way or other. Perhaps the paper never meets the eye 
 of the accused, or, if it does, he disdains to notice it. In either case, 
 silence is taken for confession by the candid, enlightened, and liberal 
 publick. But if he docs reply, it is still worse for him; "he finds him- 
 self involved in an expensive and disgraceful newspaper controversy, 
 and his character is ruined by the very circumstance of its being the 
 subject of such a controversy. Shame upon the cowardly assassin who 
 can resort to such despicable artifice ! Compared to him, the barefaced 
 libeller is respectable, for he is not a coivard at least." 
 
 VVe arc sure the above was penned by the Oracle in the 
 express object of doing us an injury ; as our large circulation 
 makes our paper the chosen vehicle for the articles so unfairly 
 reflected upon. Wo accordingly have had the Oracle indited 
 for malicious slander, and we confidently e.xpcct an indig- 
 nant jury to award us at least ten thousand dollars damages, 
 in righteous vindication of the liberty of the press, and as a 
 balm to our lacerated feelings. In the mean time, we shall 
 not be turned from the plain path of our duty ; and we insert 
 the following article, as we will any other of the kind when 
 as well paid for. We know nothing, indeed, of Mr. Wilkins ; 
 but, if he feels himself aggrieved, we are perfectly willing to 
 
MY COUSIN. 123 
 
 act with our nccustomcd iil)oralit)i, and to publish his reply 
 on tho usual terms. 
 
 A KKW I'LAIN qUKSTIONS TO MR. I'ICTKR \V1^K1^3. 
 
 Did or did you not poison your grandtnothcr with a pic 
 inado of rats, which had died of putcnt tncdicincd? 
 
 Did or did you not throw your wile out of tho garret win- 
 dow, nnd dishjcato her noso ? 
 
 Did or did you not Hinj^your youngest son riglit iihove the 
 Htecple of St. Patrick's cathedral, so that tho poor little fellow 
 in falling was impaled on the spire ? 
 
 Did or did you not blow up Ihc Orphan Asylum, by which 
 two hundred and fifty-seven fatherless babes miserably 
 perished, tho thermometer af the time being fifteen degrccH 
 below zero? 
 
 Did or did you not set the North river on fire, to tho great 
 prejudice of the fish market? 
 
 Did or did you not vote against the j)atriotic Simpkins? 
 
 When these questions arc answered to our satisfaction, we 
 have a few others to propound. 
 
 MOKE ANON. 
 
M4 MY COUSIN 
 
 URING OUT TIIK BIO OUaN! 
 GBEAT AND 1. OniOUS NEWS!! 
 
 The ball rolling and gathering as it rolls ! I ! 
 
 TIinEK CIIBKRS FOR OHIO ! ! ! ! 
 niako way for RattU-Snakc Vllln^c t! ! ! ! 
 
 \Vc have just received advices from Ohio that Mr. Mc- 
 Grub, the administration candidate for the office of constable 
 of Rattle Snake village, has been elected by a triumphant 
 majority of three voles ! ! ! 
 
 rosracniPT. 
 
 We vvrro eoincwliat prcmaUiro in announcing the election of Mr. 
 Mc(7ri\l). It n|i|)oar.-t, after all, the 0|)|)o,silion canilidate has been 
 elected hy a majority of ilficen. We congratuliilc our readers on liic re- 
 sult. In the last election, it will be rcineaibcicd that the ojiposition had 
 a majority of twenty-one, by wliieh it njipears wo iiavc acquired an ac- 
 cession of strength to tho extent of six vole.?. This is decisive of the 
 question of the triumph of pure democracy, and the indubitable elevation 
 of Mr. Thompson, the hero of lloboken, to tho presidential chair. 
 
 BY r.xruKss. 
 In our anxiety to lay the latest intelligence before our 
 readers, we incur tlie enormous expense of stopping the 
 press to announce the news just come in by express — 
 A*o//ijM<r new. 
 
 OUIGINAI. ANKCDOTE. 
 
 The other day tho king of the French observed to our 
 .distinguished statesman, Daniel Webster, that his coat ap- 
 
MY COUSIN. 186 
 
 peared to be rather too short for him ; to wjiich the witty 
 senator replied, '♦ Ah, sire, it will be long enough before I 
 get another. " We venture to say there is nothing to match 
 this in Joe Miller. 
 
 DISTRESSINQ CASUALTY. 
 
 Yesterday as a celebrated poet was patting a dog, on a 
 sudden the perfidious animal made a snap at his astonished 
 nose. The unfortunate individual immediately went down 
 on all-fours, and bounced about the room like a cracker, 
 wagging his tail and slavering at the mouth in all the hor- 
 rors of hydrophobia. Even in this melancholy situation his 
 poetical powers did not quite forsake him, for he was dis- 
 tinctly and repeatedly heard to recite the following stanzas — 
 
 " now ! 
 
 Wow ! ! 
 Ow!!!" 
 
 Which is supposed to be a hymn in Irving's unknown 
 tongue. 
 
 MELANCHOLY SUICIDE. 
 
 It is our painful duty to announce the death of our worthy 
 fellow-citizen, Assistant Alderman Guttle, who yesterday 
 committed suicide by a surfeit of turtle soup and canvass 
 liacks. No cause is assigned for the rash act. 
 
 11* 
 
126 MY COUSIN. 
 
 OUIGINAI. rOKTKY. 
 
 Thirty days hath Soptombor, 
 April, Juno and Novonibcr. 
 
 MTKUAllY NOTICES. 
 Caleb Williams — Two volumes. 
 
 A Icnfinthc (irst vohnno is lorn, and tho printer's devil 
 has loft tho injprcssion of his Ihinnb on a page of the second 
 voliuno. Tho copy sent us by the publishers will fully jus- 
 tify tho severity of those roniarks. AYo therefore feel it our 
 imperative duty to say wo cannot roconunend this work to our 
 readers, but pronounce it tho low, contemptible, stupid 
 drivelling of some obscure ignoramus. 
 
 Prost; Dosy — An historical romance. 
 
 Wo have not had time to read a word of this work ; but 
 wo confidently recommend it to our readers as the most in- 
 lollectual production of the age. Wo have no hesitation to 
 say there is more of mind, more of that which sots people 
 a-thinking in tlieso two volunuis, than in all Scott has over 
 written. 
 
MY COUSIN. 127 
 
 Searsburgk Porby ; rnnnisliiii; of licaiUiful prntluctinns of miitd and 
 fancy in .sentiment and lanffiiasc aided by the jirodifiatily of f^ emu a ; 
 a garland of miscfUaneous ■poems, on nuuet and mlcirntiu^ subjects ; 
 also, several ar.roslics, ingeniously arranged and hiip/nly calculated 
 to amuse, and delight ; togelher vilh a poetic eulogy on the (haractcra 
 of Thomas Jefferson and John Adams, late presidents of the United 
 Stales. By William Eaton. 
 
 This bcaiilifiil volume is tlio most admirable t- (To it of poetic 
 genius ihul lias iippcarcd since (lie dcalh of Hyion, vvhoHc 
 vacant throne Mr. Eaton is surely destined to 111!, unlesa 
 anticipated by the aiiiiuble cockney, Alfred Tennyson, or the 
 ponderous Pop Etntnons. Our poetacts upon the rule of 
 Horace, to blend amusement with instruction. The reader 
 will certainly find both in the following stanza : 
 
 " I'Voin Bcv<'ril»'Cii liiiiidifd lliirly-(ivo, 
 Thid inronnatiun I dorivi*, 
 As iiiyjli i\% ovfir I coiilil Icnrn, 
 In Boatoii was .lolin A«iums born." 
 
 In speaking of Thomas JcflTerson, our author displays 
 considerable anatomical lore : 
 
 " Up, being a youth of skill and art, 
 PodftCRtfcd of a scientific heart, 
 A curious thing this Bccnicd to he, 
 'I'o which coniiiiillcesj did oyrcc." 
 
 Very curious, indeed ! 
 
 Wo advise all who intend to acquaint themselves with 
 Popo'-s " Essay on Man," if thry have not already done so, 
 to Bct about it without delay ; for we can assure them that 
 
128 MV ('OUSIN. 
 
 Pope's Essay will never iiioro be heard of when it has been 
 compared with the fuHowin^ essay, hy ^ViUiani Eaton : 
 
 " All l''sxni/. 
 
 " For j)0('try mid oroslici round, 
 
 Sumo 8iil cm down (or evil, 
 While I in llic {Tionl cliuir uni found, 
 
 To serve lliiMU OS n swivel ; 
 Yet some will sny, wiulc I'm in piny, 
 
 And xtrivo liuMr nuiul lo l>oj>jilo, 
 They'd sooner have ilie swivel out, 
 
 And in its pLu-n u tojjylo!" 
 My \\\fi '■ f ueh poetry lis lliis 
 
 Miissl set you nil a-[;oi;yle ! 
 
 It may be surmised wo ourselves added the two Inst linos 
 as an involuntary tribute ; and we own the soH impoaeh- 
 niont. Hut eu()u;;li has been said to demonstrate that the 
 l)oetry of Williiun I'lalon is as sublimely unintclligiblo as the 
 prose ol" Coleriilge. Praise cannot go higlu"r. 
 
 ■r n i: a the. 
 
 " To wiike llio soul liy lender strokes of iirt, 
 'I'o niiso liio genius, and to ineiul tiie lieuvt." 
 
 l)NrAl{AI,l,Kl,Kl) ATi'KAtrriON ! 
 
 Slupcjidous, J'jgiegioiis, ICiiiiniwiis, l'io(lif;iuiis, raiifnloua und 
 Prrposleious Siiccvus ! I 
 
 In consequenee of the triumphant ami overwhelming sue- 
 cess of the Grand llomuntic Melo- Dramatic Tule oj'Torrour, 
 culled 
 
MY (JOIJSIN 129 
 
 TIIH SIX MIDN'ICflT MIJUDKRS, 
 
 written expressly for (liis or any ollxr llifiilrc, hy Mr. Caper, 
 tho ccIobru<(Ml liondon <]ramatist ; and wliicli lias Ijoctn re- 
 ceived, tii^^lit aClcr iiij^hf, by an enthusiastic and dclif^lited 
 audience, with shouts of applause and the most hideous ap- 
 probation, it will be rf[)('ated this evening. 
 
 IN TMK COL'KSK OK TUK TliRlOll M A NCK, 
 
 4«i inUrcating view of a Charncl Jlouae, wilk skulls and mariowhoncM, 
 
 INVOCATION OK DEMONS. 
 «iRANU DANCE OI' GHOSTS AND SKKLKTONS. 
 
 Mr. Charles Brazen, Esquire, of Yorkshire, the celebrated 
 American tra;^edian, will, in his popular character of Haw 
 Head and Bloody Bones, commit Mix murders, to the tuno 
 ofJiin Crow. 
 
 Tcrri/ir apparition of a Ficnj Draf^on and Iwentij Snap Drairona. 
 
 Mr. Bellow, the olhcr American tragedian, who has been 
 pronounecd by one of the printer's devils in a Boston paper, 
 " K(pjal to Booth 1" will perform Hamlet on horseback, 
 standing on his head. 
 
 A Grarid Procession of Starved Elep/iants, Drvincdarics, Horses, 
 Camels, Baboons, and Tom Cuts. 
 
 Mr. Snipes, the celebrated Man-Monkey, who is nightly 
 received wilii yells of applause and tears of sympalhy, by a 
 crowded and intelligent audience, will go through his extra- 
 
130 MY COUSIN. 
 
 ordinary pciTormanccs of tumbling and scratching his head, 
 and concluded by hanging himself to his own tail. 
 
 The celebrated Mademoiselle. Toiirbillon will spin round 
 on the tip of her big-toe nail for three hours, with her left foot 
 on a level with her car, and bore a hole in the stage, through 
 which she will disappear in a flash of fire and brimstone. 
 
 Tarific viov of the hifcrnal regions. 
 
 TREMENDOUS KXI'LOSION OV SQUIBS .^ND CR.tCKEns. 
 
 Terrific Combat hj Miss Thumb. 
 
 AWFUL CONFLAGRATION OF SPIRITS OF WINK. 
 
 On Saturday, the celebrated Master Squall, only two years 
 old, in Richard the Third, on which occasion the free list 
 will be tetotaciously suspended. 
 
 ORIGINAL TALES. 
 THE P11\NT0.M BRIDli — CONTINUED FROM OUR L.<ST. 
 
 And laying her hand tremulously uj)on his arm, she whis- 
 pered these appalling words 
 
 {To be continued.) 
 
 MR. PETERS, THE IRISH OCCULIST. 
 
 Let all blind people look at his advertisement. 
 
MY COUSIN. 131 
 
 Mr. Jolin Cake to Miss Betsy Baker, all of this city. 
 
 Tlic Baker has resigned ilic name, 
 
 But not llic trade forsakes — 
 For from llic marriajjc will j>rocced 
 
 A lot of Joliny Cakes I 
 
 died: 
 
 At Tyburn of suffocation, Mr. Paul Bamboozle. He was 
 an affectionate husband, a kind father, a generous friend, a 
 sincere chri.stian, and an honest man. He has left three 
 wives and twenty children to mourn his loss. 
 
 Jlnolher revolutionatij hero p^one. — Died at the Bcllevue 
 Alms-Housc, Captain John Watson, a soldier of the Revo- 
 lution, in the nindy-seventh year of his age. His memory 
 is embalmed in the tears of a grateful country. 
 
 Slram .flccidcnl. — Yesterday the steamboat Hurricane 
 coming in contact with the Whirlwind, by the captain's 
 orders, both ves.scl.s put on all their steam, in Fpite of the 
 remonstrances of the passengers. After an interesting 
 race of two minutes, in which the Hurricane evidently had 
 the advantage, unfortunately both ves.sels blew up, and four 
 hundred lives were lost. No blame attaches to any one. 
 
13S MY COUSIN. 
 
 COMMUNICATtONS. 
 TPIE MAINE QUESTION 
 
 in (his un- 
 
 S ETT I,E D 
 
 state of the weather, is how to ilefoncl ourselves from the 
 
 WAR 
 
 of elements ; persons desirous of being furnished 
 
 WITH 
 
 an antidote to the bad ofTecls of the weather, more efficient 
 than any that can be imported from 
 
 ENGLAND 
 
 or elsewhere, are recommended to try Dooliltle's pills, which 
 make the sUin rain-and-water-proof, as is generally 
 
 DECLARED 
 by all who have tried (lieni. 
 
 The most atrocious of murders! ! ! is unquestionably 
 suicide ; and no better name can be given to the fully of 
 those who neglect to make use of Dr. Flasher's Universal 
 Vegetable Soothing Syrup. Price two dollars a bottle. 
 
 N. B. Sold only at Mr^--. Smith's thread and needle store, 
 Mr. Dobbin's second-hand furniture warehouse, Mr. Moses' 
 pawnbroker's oflice, Mr. Snob's junk-shop, and Mr. Flasher'* 
 Universal Vegetable Soothing Syrup office. 
 
MY COUSIN. 133 
 
 Take notice. — Important caution to the public. — Cave nt 
 litibus. No dm^^gist is aiitliori/cd (o vend tliis medicine. 
 
 Postscript. IJowarc ol" licensed [)hysiciuns und surgeons ! 
 Misled l>y un unfortunate acquaintance with medicine and 
 anatomy, they_ never recommend Dr. Flasher's Universal 
 Vegetable Soothing Syrup ! ! ! 
 
 N. B. Advice gratis, (to buy the .syrup.) 
 
 THE L O V i: u s . 
 
 A Talc (if Truth. 
 
 The young, beautiful, and accomplished Seraphina An- 
 gelica Mortimer was engaged to the amiable and interesting 
 G. Washington Clifford, Esq. ; but there is no durable hap- 
 piness in this world ; and the lovely victim fell a prey to 
 the most insidious of diseases, consumption. The un- 
 happy (JliflTord was in despair. Imagine his felicity, when, 
 on calling to inquire after the health of his adorable Angelica, 
 he found her, whom he had left on the bed of death, dancing 
 a pus seul before a splendid mirror, in a magnificent gilt 
 frame ! On inquiring as to the cause of her miraculous resto- 
 ration, she pointed her delicate little finger, with exultation, 
 to a row of shelves filled with empty pill boxes, labelled, 
 " Dr. Gullem's eternity pills." Price, 50 cents a box. 
 
 12 
 
194 MY COUSIN. 
 
 TO DU. THOMAS IIUMMUM. 
 
 We the subscribers having cxperiencoil iho surprising be- 
 nefits of your gonuino vegetable corn-pliiistor, have Unirned 
 with deep concern that it is your intention to Knive (he city 
 for the purpose of returning to the bosom of your family. 
 Wo take the Uborty, in the name of sulfering humanity, to 
 implore you to remain to relieve the corns of our ufllicted 
 fellow-citizens. 
 
 Danh'i, UiuiM, 
 
 Pastor of the onlij Christian Church. 
 
 Maky Ann Dumts. 
 1*atki»;k lIicciMtoruAM. 
 
 TO the EDITOU of TIIK INUEPENDENT HANNEU of TIlDTir. 
 DEAR SIR, 
 
 r had iiitotuhHl to return to the boson) of my family, 
 from whiih I liave been st'parat«!d for numy years, but 1 am 
 unable to resist the above pathetic appeal in behalf of my 
 suflering fellow-creatures, and 1 ihoreforc request you to 
 inform the nunuMOUs and respectable petitioners, that it is 
 my intention to remain in the city. 
 
 Thomas IIi)m:mem, jm. u. 
 
 Corn Plaisterrr to hin Majesti/, the Queen of ICnoland. 
 
 IV. li. The poor arc invited to call gratis, between one 
 and two, p. m., when the doctor is not at home. 
 
MY COUSIN 135 
 
 To L K T — A store 
 
 •y of interested physicians, that consumption cannot 
 be cured, prevent your making trial of Dr. Noddy's pills, 
 is a piece of credulity unworthy of this enlightened com- 
 munity. 
 
 $10,000 REWARD. 
 A Challenge to all the World. 
 
 Professor Abraham PufHnblow, teacher of the anti-circular 
 system of writing, challenges any competitor in teaching the 
 following branchc.i, in six easy lessons of one hour each : 
 Orthography, Geography, Astronomy, Algebra, Mathe- 
 matics, Geometry, Navigation, Surveying, Music, Dancing 
 on moral princii)lcs. Needle-work and i)lain Sewing, Greek, 
 Latin, Hebrew, Dutch, Russia, Kamschatan, Hindoo, Chi- 
 nese, English, Scotch, Irish, all which can be taught to a 
 whole family in one week, the baby included. 
 
 Early application is advisable, as Professor Pufiinblow 
 '"ontomplates going to Europe with his family, consisting of 
 his wife Deborah,5 aged 52, his daughter, Barbara Poly- 
 hymnia Tisiphona, aged 13, and his son, Abraham Sile- 
 usn Patulacius Puirwiblow, aged fourteen years, two months, 
 and six days. 
 
I3t> MY COUSIN. 
 
 TO READERS AND CORRESPONDENTS. 
 
 Plain Truth will not suit our columns. Common Sense 
 is inadmissible. We don't know what Honesty means. 
 Decency is respectfully declined. No mistake is under a 
 great mistake ; we can tell him our paper is not the proper 
 -vehicle for personalities. We admit that till within these few 
 days we have justly held up Mr. Snooks to public execration 
 as a thief, a liar, and a cut-throat ; but wc wish No Mistake 
 to understand that since Mr. Snooks has become a 
 subscriber to our paper, there is no longer any truth in such 
 aspersions ; we will, however, print No Mistake's commu- 
 nication, if paid for. A Nuiirancc is under consideration. 
 
111. 
 
 RAT CATCHING. 
 
 " Now you have finishod your paper, let me read you this 
 from the Courier and Enquirer. It may put something in 
 your pocket, or at least in your head." 
 
 •• I am all attention," 
 
 To Rat Catchers. — Any person acquainted with iho mode of destroy- 
 ing raia wilhout using poison, can receive a liberal compensation for his 
 services by addressing II. II., at this o/Ticc, staling his address, and the 
 hour.s at which he can be seen. 
 
 " You are right, John. Tliat is quite in my line. Hand 
 us a pen." 
 
 TO U. II. OFFICE or TUR COURIER AND ENQUIRER. 
 
 Sir — III roply to the above advertisement, I beg leave to 
 inform you that in the course of my scientific and philosophi- 
 cal researches, I have discovered many methods of destroy- 
 ing rats without the use of poison, vk'hich I proceed to lay 
 before you for your advisement : 
 
 First. — There is believed to be, somewhere in the savage 
 wilds of America, an animal of the genus Tom Cattus, of 
 
 12 * 
 
138 MY COUSIN. 
 
 whose capacity for rat-exterminntion an interesting account 
 may be found in the History of the Life and Adventures of 
 Richard VVhittington, late Lord Mayor of London. 
 
 Secondly. — There is an ingenious mechanical invention, 
 which Will Shakspeare designates a " njouse trap;" by 
 which commentators say he means a rat-trap — indeed, Doc- 
 tor Johnson defines a mouse to be a young rat : as a musket 
 is a young cannon, and a pistol a little son of a gun. Hon- 
 orable mention of this invention is made in the History of 
 England, reign of George the third ; it being related of that 
 monarch that, on finding a rat-trap at a peasant's cottage, he 
 inquired to what purpose it was intended. " To catch rats, 
 sire." "And how do the rats get inl" "Through them 
 there holes, an' please your majesty." " And what makes 
 'em go in?" " A bait of toasted cheese." "And why don't 
 the fools come out again at one of these holes ?" inquired 
 his majesty, thrusting his finger into one of them — no an- 
 swer was necessary. 
 
 If you consider a rat-trap /oo expensive, there is another 
 contrivance : as it were, a natural rat-trap ; the maner of 
 using which will appear from the following story : Moses, 
 the parish clerk, went to church with a wig well powdered 
 with meal ; and, before Parson Dozey had got through with 
 his " eleventhly," poor Moses fell fast asleep, leaning with 
 his head back and his mouth wide open. A parish mouse, 
 attracted by the meal, invaded his wig, and, in the course of 
 his devastating march, let his tail fall down over Moses' face. 
 Moses, feeling something tickling his mouth, shut it with 
 
MY COUSIN. 139 
 
 a sudden snap, and with the most brilliant success, biting ofT 
 the tail and two hind logs of the unhappy depredator I 
 
 Another expedient, which Pindar informs us has been 
 made use of, is to collect a f(iw hundred men, women, chil- 
 dren, and dogs, armed with guns, pistols, broomsticks, brick- 
 bats, and teeth ; then set fire to the house infested with the 
 vermin, and as they scamper from the flames, fall upon them 
 tooth and nail, and exterminate the whole generation. 
 
 Jjastly. — Invite them to a public meeting in the Park, and 
 read to them the newspaper accounts of steamboat explo- 
 sions and rail-road accidents for the last month, and you 
 will effectually frighten them out of their skins — which skins 
 you will do well to collect and sell to the furrier. 
 
 In consideration of these suggestions, do me the favor to 
 send the " liberal compensation," directed to Solomon Sly, 
 office of the New-York Mirror. 
 
 SOLOMON SLY. 
 
 The above wa.^ duly forwarded, but we regret to say the 
 " liberal compensation'' has never come to hand. 
 
IV. 
 
 MY GRANDFATHER'S WIG. 
 
 I took up my pen — to lay it down again ; I took up 
 another — to dash it, as Saul did his javelin, into the wall, 
 where it hung in tremulous uncertainty, like an uncommitted 
 politician ; and, like him, at last made up its mind to accept 
 a place — ready, however, to drop ofT as soon as might suit 
 its convenience. I tried a third pen — I dashed it on the 
 floor; I gnashed my teeth ; I darted my convulsed fingers 
 through the wild luxuriance of my hair — (which has not been 
 trimmed those six months, owing to my disapprobation to the 
 strike among hair-dressers) — I clenched my fists — I set my 
 feet ; I leaped up to the ceiling, somewhat to the prejudice 
 of my head, and descending like a thiindeiboll cr a n.ad bull, 
 crushed the detested pen into a thousand pieces. 
 
 " Bless me ! my dear John," exclaimed my admiring 
 cousin, " what, in the name of Socrates, has disturbed the 
 serenity of your philosophical mind ?" 
 
 " The post will be oft' in five minutes. This letter is of 
 great consequence. Do, my dear cousin, sit down and finish 
 it for me from my dictation." 
 
MY COUSIN. 141 
 
 My unsuspecting cousin stepped to ir-y vacated scat and 
 helped himself to a pen. 
 
 " Well, I am ready." 
 
 " AVhal uas liio last \v<jr<l I wrote ? Oh — the first syllable 
 of ban!;niplcy. Go on and say, ' ruptcy has actually taken 
 place, and of course yon will not confide the goods to his 
 agent.' " 
 
 "Stop, while I wrile." 
 
 Write, indeed ! the pen made no more impression upon 
 the paper, than Sir ^Val(er Scott's imitators can make upon 
 the reader; they being to Scott what Alexander's succes- 
 sors were to Alexander. My cousin quietly laid down the 
 pen and selected another. IJIot — blot — blot — blot. Another: 
 scratch — scrat(;h — scratch. And yet another: dig — dig — 
 dig. And another yet : tear — tear — tear. 
 
 " By the wig of my grandfather!" exclaimed my cousin, 
 wiping his brow. 
 
 " And why not by his soul ?" 
 
 " Because, of the two, the old gentleman appeared to set 
 the most value upon his wig." 
 
 " How so ?'' 
 
 " I will tfll you directly. But to go on with the letter. I 
 have not yet finished the r. I will try what can be done 
 with this pin." 
 
 Split — split — split — split. 
 
 My cousin took up the only remaining pen, and put forth 
 the whole strength of his arm and soul to master its perverse- 
 ness. It shivered ; a fragment flew up and saluted his eye ; 
 
142 MY COUSIN. 
 
 he pushed over the desk,, he kicked the chair from him, and 
 danced about, now on one leg, now on the other, with a dis- 
 regard ofthe estabhi-hed principles of saltatory exercise, which 
 would have shocked Mr. Charraud ; and withal he swore 
 like a mosstrooper, or a member of congress. 
 
 The fragment had only hit his eye without taking lodgings 
 in it ; and the pain, though intense at first, was soon gone, 
 "just like love." My cousin tock up the card on which the 
 pens had been filed and read the inscription, which was in a 
 beautiful blue and red livery. 
 
 " Slumjiem^s quintuple pate?it pens.^^ 
 " A quintuple patent curse confound them !" 
 " Warranted tj write one hundred lines at a single c/tp." 
 " Yes, if they will write one line at one hundred dips." 
 " Pen-f?iending- tolcdltj superseded.'" 
 "Indeed! pens like these are past mending !" 
 I looked at my watch ; it was too late for tlie post. My 
 cousin tore the letter and lighted a cigar, in whose ambrosial 
 vapors the clouds of vexation evaporated from his brow. I 
 drew my chair to the fire, and pointing with my toe to the 
 grate, which was heaped up to the top with glowing coals, I 
 propounded the following query : 
 
 " Why is this grate like an empty one ?" 
 My consul took the cigar from his mouth, and looked wist- 
 fully at its gathering ashes in search of insi.iration. After a 
 few moments' meditation, he laid his finger on his sagacious 
 nose, and winking, (for in spite of poor Mrs. TroUope's in- 
 dignant reviewers, Americans do wink sometimes,) winking 
 I say, he replied ************* 
 
MY COUSIN. 143 
 
 And all his good humor returned. 
 
 Observing tlii^j, I drew my chair nearer to him. 
 
 " What was that you were saying about your grandfathor'a 
 wig ?" 
 
 " Whether I had a grandfather or not," said my cousin, 
 " is more than I shall take it upon me to say of my own 
 knowledge, for I never saw him myself. So all I am about 
 to relate rests only on hearsay evidence." 
 
 " My grandfather was a hearty old lad, with a rich nose, 
 and a pair of cheeks bearing their blushing honors thick upon 
 them. His waist was of great service to a neighboring school- 
 master, in explaining to the little boys, puzzling over their 
 geography, what is meant by a hemisphere. His step was 
 firm and somewhat heavy, so that whenever Broadway was 
 repaving, which you know happens every month, if my grand- 
 father chanced to cross on the newly-laid stones, the pavers 
 rested on their mallets and blest him for the labor he saved 
 them. The only signs of the encroachments of age which 
 forced themselves upon my grandfather's notice, were a 
 difficulty of breathing and the daily depletion of his hair, 
 which, white as it was, he preferred to no hair at all. He 
 combed it and brushed it, he greased it and perfumed it, he 
 twisted and curled it, he stroked it and coaxed ir, but all 
 would not do ; it thinned and thinned like molting snow, or 
 a poet's purse, or an iW-starred theatre. 
 
 •' While my grandfather was fretting and grumbling at the 
 idea of surrendering the last honors of his head to the scythe 
 oftimc, (who, considering he is himself somewhat declined 
 
144 MY COUSIN. 
 
 into the vale of years, exhibits a wonderful deficiency of 
 sympathy for the feelings of other old gentlemen,) fortunate- 
 ly, as he thought, he met with an advertisement in the Inde- 
 pendent Banner of Tridh. Now, as my grandfather had 
 taken that paper regularly for the last twenty years, it was a 
 natural consequence that he pinned his faith upon the vera- 
 city of all its contents, and had followed its lead through all 
 its political vagaries, so that he was often at a loss to recol- 
 lect which party he belonged to. But to do the Banner 
 justice, it was a paper of more than ordinary political con- 
 sistency, and seldom changed sides more than six times a 
 year ; and then it slided from one side to the other with such 
 easy and imperceptible grace, that the majority of its readers 
 were unconscious of the transition, and the rest were struck 
 dumb with admiration. 
 
 " The following, as near as I can recollect, was the ad- 
 vertisement which arrested my grandfather's wondering eye : 
 
 '« S 100,000.— I, William W. Williams, do hereby certify that I have 
 been for the last twenty-five years of my life grievously afflicted with 
 the pleurisy, dyspepsia, gout, rickets, headache, toothache, stomachache, 
 teething, thrush, whooping cough, plethora, consumption, hydrophot)ia, 
 marasmus, Uimhago, rheumatism, yellow fevrr, small pox, cholera, 
 measles, elephantiasis, cholio, asthma, baldness, deafnet's, dumbness, 
 lameness, blindness, lunacy ; and divers other complaints too numerous 
 to mention in the limits of an advertisement. But fortunately havincr 
 been recommended to make trial of Dr. Zachariah Doolittle's Genuine 
 Chinese Teetotal Vegetable Anti-Mercurial Ching-changchong-chung 
 Pills, by the blessing of heaven, after the use of one box and a half, I 
 was completely restored to my health. 
 
 WILLIAM \v. \VILLIA^fcS, 
 
 109 Ninth Avenue. 
 Sworn before me, t. flummery, Commissioner, 4-c. 
 
MY COUSIN. 145 
 
 Note. — Prevention is better than cure. While in the* enjoyment of 
 health we don't reflect it is ten to one we may get sick before wc die. 
 Since, then, oh man and woman and child, these pills will prevent as 
 well as cure all the ills which flesh and blood are heir at law to ; call at 
 the Doolililelonian office, No. 537 Dutch-street, and buy a few boxes, 
 price fifty cents per box. 
 
 Caution. — The celebrity of these pills has induced several unprin- 
 cipled venders to counterfeit a spurious article. They have even the 
 depravity to imitate the green label ! To 'prevent imposition, be cer- 
 tain to ask for Dr. Doolittle's Genuine Chinese Teetotal Vegetable 
 Anti-Mercurial Ching-chang-chong-chung Pills. None are genuine un- 
 less signed, his 
 
 ZaCH.VRT.VH X DOOLITTLE, 
 
 mark. 
 
 M. D. G. C. T. v. A. M. C. C. C. C. A. M. 
 
 In any other paper this advertisement would not have been 
 noticed by my grandfather ; but was it not in the Indepen- 
 dent Banner of Truth ? Of course, it must be true every 
 word of it. Whereupon being immensely tickled at the idea 
 of laying in a fresh supply of breath and hair, and keeping 
 the gout, rheumatism, and other usual attendants of old age 
 at a respectful distance out of pill-shot, he grasped his cane, 
 which, like himself, was silver-headed, and strode manfully 
 to No. 537 Dutch-street. To prevent imposition, in asking 
 for the pills, he referred to the paper and read their title from 
 the advertisement pretty correctly, only he made some con- 
 fusion with the changs and chings and chongs. Having 
 carefully authenticated the signatures, he bought a dozen 
 boxes and went home as fast as he could, impatient to begin 
 the mighty work. 
 
 My grandfather being a prudent man, took only one of the 
 13 
 
146 MY COUSIN. 
 
 pills at first, and it turned him inside out ; then he took 
 another, and it turned him outside in, or he would never after 
 have been tit to be seen. But the rudeness of the process 
 did not agree with a man of his quiet habits. He was con- 
 fined to his bed for a month ; he felt as if he had breathed 
 his last ; and he was obliged to wear a nightcap to keep his 
 hair from blowing off. His faith was shaken in the Inde- 
 pendenl Banner of 2Vuth, and the editor of that paper having 
 been so ill-advised, soon af\er, as to raise the subscription a 
 few shillings, my grandfather suddenly discovered that there 
 was a great falling off in the spirit of its columns ; and 
 penned the following emphatic expression of his critical acu- 
 men, which he despatched by his servant : 
 
 " Please stop my paper." 
 
 My grandfather's patronage was transferred to the JSIoiii- 
 ing Oracle ; in which he found the advertisement of a person 
 calling himself Doctor De Bite, from Paris ; who, after ad- 
 ministering a wholesome rebuke to the arrogant pretenders 
 to universal remedies, announced that 7ie confined his pre- 
 tensions to restoring hair to the bald, and bloom to the faded. 
 Now, as my grandmother's roses had been for some time in 
 the " sear and yellow leaf," she persuaded her husband they 
 might as well have recourse to this unpretending Doctor De 
 Bite. The result may be easily anticipated ; the Genuine 
 Nova Scotia Ointment for the growth of the hair, stripped 
 my grandfather of every hair of his head ; and by virtue of 
 the Genuine Italian Carnation Lotion, my grandmother's 
 cheeks were dyed with an imperishable scarlet, which they 
 
MY COUSIN. 147 
 
 carried (o the grave, for its victorious color triumphed over 
 death hirnsflf. Unfortunalcly, too, out of the curiosity na- 
 tural to an old woman, she had dipped her nose into the lotion, 
 by way of smelling out its properties. 
 
 Somewhat disturbed by results so unexpected, my grand- 
 father smnmonrd Dc liito to appear Ijeforo him. That wor- 
 thy coMi|)lied without hesitation. My grandfather took the 
 liberty to explain his sentiments at considerable length, en- 
 forcing his eloquence as the great orator of antiquity recom- 
 mends, with " action, action, action." De Bite made no 
 attempt to interrupt him; indeed you should never interrupt 
 an angry person, for that is pouring oil upon fire. Do as 
 De Bite did : let him scold himself out of breath, and he will 
 be effectually silenced. 
 
 With a villanous effort to Frenchify his English with a 
 few words he had picked out of a tattered grammar, and 
 knew not how to pronounce or to use in the right place, the 
 pretended Frenchman responded in manner and form fol- 
 lowing, to wit : 
 
 " What willcz youcz havez? May foy ! Havcz youez 
 ever haddcz a looth drawn — painder, as we Frances say?" 
 
 My grandfather groaned at an agonizing recollection. 
 
 " I mean, jentend, when you was a little i)oy — un pew gaj;- 
 son — as we Frances say. Lorska the old tooth come out to 
 make way for the new tooth, sest non ray 1 Well, scst towt 
 a fait the same with your hair ; the old hair senva, goes 
 away to make room for the now hair — the noof, as wo 
 
148 MY COUSIN. 
 
 Frances call it. Comma donk 1 It is all right and comma 
 il fort, scst non ray !" 
 
 My grandfather made no answer ; the novel point of view 
 in which the subject was placed, plunged him into the depths 
 of silent meditation. Not so my grandmother. Crimsoned 
 lio less with anger than with the lotion, she seized the pause 
 to pour out her own abjurations. 
 
 De Bite shrunk not, but shrugged his shoulders as French- 
 man never shrugged. 
 
 " Ah, madame ! sest pily, sest damage, as we Frances 
 say. Madame has took too much — fort de trop — which 
 shows it is a good thing, for too much of a good thing is 
 good for nothing, you knowcz. Never mind — sest eagle — I 
 have some cream of pearl, which will set it all to rights." 
 
 And madam was mollified, and the cream of pearl was be- 
 spoke. No flour speculator of the present day understands 
 his business so well as De Bite did, for by a mere change of 
 itfi name he sold his flour at ten dollars an ounce. 
 
 My grandfather waited with exemplary impatience for a 
 new growth of hair, but waited in vain. He had been a 
 pretty fellow in his youth, and a pretty fellow he had deter- 
 mined to be to the last ; but now he could never look in the 
 glass without distorting his countenance with furious grimaces. 
 His health and spirits visibly declined. He took to reading 
 Halstead on Dyspepsia, and at that alarming symptom, his 
 friends agreed it was all over with him. 
 
 But it was not. 
 
MY COUSIN. 149 
 
 One clay as he was perambulating Broadway, his eye was 
 caught by the window of a pcrruquicr. Heavens ! what an 
 angel of a wig! My grandfather rushed into the shop, and 
 pointed to the wig, which was iuimediately handed to him. 
 He tried it on, looked in the glass, and cut a caper of delight. 
 He paid the pcrruquier's demand without hesitation, and then 
 strode across the way to a fashionable hatter's, where ho 
 purchased the most expensive hat in the shop, to do honor to 
 liis wig. 
 
 While he was strutting down Broadway with a weight of 
 glory on his head, a gentleman whom he did not recollect 
 having ever seen before, approached in the opposite direction, 
 who, taking off his hat and holding it out at the full length of 
 his arm, made my grandfather a profound bow. The old 
 gentleman, though wondering who the stranger could be, re- 
 turned the compliment no less profoundly, so that his eyes 
 were for a moment fixed on the pavement ; but at a sudden 
 jerk he uncurved himself, and perceived that his friend un- 
 known, had snatched his new hat, and was running ofT with 
 it as if a bull was at his heels. 
 
 One, two, three, and away ! OfT they go — the thief and 
 my grandfather. Run, boys, run ! Speed, daddy, speed ! 
 Away they go — down Murray-street to Church, up Church 
 to Reade, down Readc to Washington, up Washington to Jay, 
 up Jay to Hudson, down Hudson to Thomas, up Thomas to 
 Church, down Church to Leonard, up Leonard to Broadway, 
 down Broadway to the place of beginning : " be the same 
 more or less." 
 
 13* 
 
150 MY COUSIN. 
 
 Away and away they went ; and all the fools in the streets 
 left everything else to take part in the race ; and shopmen 
 darted out, and clerks upset their inkstands, and doors flew 
 open, and windows flew up, and servants flew out. " Fire ! 
 fire ! fire !" screamed the muddy-faced vagabonds ; "• Stop 
 thief !" panted my grandfather ; and the cry ran among the 
 crowd — "Stop thief! murder! fire! water! slang! bang! 
 whang !" And away and away they go, hurry-scurry ! 
 
 On goes the thief, and on goes my grandfather, throwing 
 down or stumbling over five men, seven women, ten children, 
 thirteen dogs, eleven fruit-stands, six chimney-sweeps, and 
 swine without number. At last my grandfather was forced 
 to give in. He sank exhausted upon the steps of the Park 
 Theatre, panting like a rhinoceros. He took his wig off", 
 and held it in his left hand, while with the right he wiped the 
 perspiration from his head. 
 
 A grave gentleman passing by, stopped and gazed at him 
 compassionately. 
 
 " What is the matter, my dear sir 1" 
 
 " A villain has — sto-lcn my hat — and I am — so tired — ugh 
 — with run-ning after him — I can't — move a step — ugh !" 
 
 " Not a step !" 
 
 " Not a step." 
 
 " Then here goes for your wig." 
 
 And the grave gentleman snatched the wig, rolled it up, 
 and put it into his pocket. 
 
 " Good by, sir." 
 
 And nodding carelessly, he turned on his heel quite lei- 
 surely, leaving my grandfather in bald amazement. 
 
MY COUSIN. 151 
 
 " Burn my wig !" ejaculated my grandfather^as soon as 
 he could articulate. 
 
 After an hour's reflection and repose, he was sufficiently 
 recovered to decide what was to be done. He returned to 
 the perruquier. 
 
 " This is fortunate," said the artiste ; " the wig you have 
 lost, sir, added only, five years to your juvenility ; but here, 
 sir, here is one which will sweep twenty years at once from 
 the sum total of your age, and make you a younger man than 
 your youngest son. But I hope you will be careful of your 
 wig this time, my good sir, for there is not another like it to 
 be had in the world, for love or money." 
 
 And my grandfather was careful of it. The next day 
 being Sunday, he went to church to exhibit the glories of his 
 new wig. The congregation, who, year after year, and Sun- 
 day after Sunday had been accustomed to stare at the white- 
 ness of his head, now stared indeed at its blackness. A buzz 
 of admiration drowned the voice of the preacher ; and the 
 eyes most apt to wander in church, wandered not a moment 
 from my grandfather's raven locks. It was evident the con- 
 gregation thought more of his wig than of their souls. No 
 wonder if my grandfather did. 
 
 Service being over, he went home, and had just sat down 
 to dinner, when a deacon of the church entered, with a coun- 
 tenance of vinegar solemnity. 
 
 " My friend," said the deacon, " I have come to speak a 
 word in season." 
 
152 MY COUSIN. 
 
 " It will be more seasonable after dinner. Take a seat 
 and help yourself." 
 
 The deacon reconnoitred the table, recognised his most 
 valued acquaintance, a roast-turkey, and sat down without 
 further pressing. After the cloth was removed, the deacon 
 hemmed and hummed, and at last said : 
 
 " You are aware, sir, of the cause of this visitation ?" 
 
 " Not that I know of." 
 
 " Pray, sir, is this hair your own ?" 
 
 " That puts me in mind of a story of Dean Swift ; he met 
 a porter carrying a hare on his shoulder, and asked him if it 
 was his own hair or a wig." 
 
 " I know nothing about Dean Swift," said the deacon. 
 " What I ask you, in the name of the church, is this, sir : is 
 this hair your own ?" 
 
 " That puts me in mind — but 1 believe I told you the story 
 before — well, to be sure it is my own hair, for I paid for it." 
 
 " Ah ! you own it theni" 
 
 " Own it 1 Who else should own it ?" 
 
 "I mean, you own it to be a wig." 
 
 "What else should it be?" 
 
 " My friend, you are getting old, and should think of better 
 things. To wear a wig at your time of life, is to indulge the 
 lusts of the flesh and the vanities thereof; and moreover it is 
 a stumbling-block and an oflcnce to those that be weak 
 among the brethren. Wherefore I say unto you, my friend, 
 you must part with your wig, if you have any regard for your 
 soul." 
 
 " I would sooner part with my soul !" said ray grandfather. 
 
A CHAPTER ON CURLS. 
 
 " Peace to the old gentleman's soul, and may his wig 
 flourish for ever ! But come to the window, my cousin. Is 
 not that a beautiful girl ?" 
 
 " It is her own fault if she is not; but I cannot admire 
 any countenance where the forehead is made to assume 
 the shape of an inverted V, by being hid, as well as half 
 the cheek, under a plaster of hair. Give me the open 
 brow — the floating curl — the " 
 
 " No more of that, my cousin ; it is not the fashion." 
 
 " Out upon fashion ! It is but another name for deformity 
 and folly. Yet in every part of the world, civilized or 
 savage, wherever woman is, there is fashion at her elbow to 
 whisper that ' God has made her out of taste.' At the dic- 
 tates of this fantastic goddess, the Parisian belle tinges her 
 cheek with rouge, while she of Greenland trowels on a 
 plaster of blue and yellow ; the Indian reddens her teeth, the 
 Guzurat blackens them, and the Japanese gilds them, all in 
 homage to fashion. On the same principle of devotion to 
 fashion, the belle is redolent of oils and pomatums, and the 
 
154 MY COUSIN. 
 
 Hottentot of grease ; the belle crushes her ribs in steel and 
 whalebone ; the Chinese tortures her foot into deformity and 
 uselessness ; but it is chiefly in regard to the hair that I re- 
 sent the interference of fashion. For what saith Apuliusl 
 
 ' The hair i.s as great an ornament to the head as the 
 most magniiicent robes can be to the body. Shave the 
 head of the handsomest woman that ever existed, thus di- 
 vesting her countenance of its natural ornament, and were 
 she descended from the skies, engendered of the sea, 
 cradled in the bosom of the waves — in a word, were she 
 Venus herself, attended by the loves and the graces, and 
 adorned with her cestus, still her bald head would deprive 
 her of all her power of pleasing. Vulcan himself would turn 
 away with disgust. 
 
 ' But what can be more charming than the locks of a 
 beautiful woman, glistening in the sua with a titful splendor 
 before the dazzled eye ; some, of the shining auburn, whose 
 golden light gradually embrowns toward the roots ; others 
 dark as the plumage of the ravon, and changeable as the 
 throat of the pigeon. And what a beautiful sight it is to see 
 a profusion of long hair rolling down, and floating apart 
 upon the shoulders !' 
 
 " The poet and the painter are peculiarly susceptible to the 
 beautiful. Their descriptions or delineations of female 
 beauty are justly considered the standard of taste on that sub- 
 ject ; and yet, in one respect, it is the pleasure of dear, 
 lovely, foolish woman, to depart as widely from that standard 
 as possible. Hair was given to her for n beauty and an 
 
MY COUSIN. 156 
 
 ornament : it is her will to make it a deformity/ She has, 
 indeed, abandoned, for the present, the Hottentot system 
 which was in fashion less than a century ago, and which will 
 probably return before the present century expires, namely, 
 the custom of plastering up her hair, tier above tier, with 
 grease, powder, and the genius of filth knows what, baking 
 the whole together in a species of brick-kiln. This is dis- 
 carded for the present, and I thank heaven on my knees for 
 it ; but even now, if I wish to delight my eye with such a 
 head of hair as the poet or painter can contemplate with 
 pleasure, I must look for it among children, not yet disfi- 
 gured with the manacles of fashion. As soon as a girl has 
 outgrown her happy and beautiful childhood, she gives her- 
 self up to u<;liness ; buries her exquisite little arms in a pair 
 of those awful balloons, which obliged our corporation to widen 
 half the streets of the city ; mangles and bruises her waist 
 in an infernal machine of steel and whalebone ; plants corn 
 upon her toes, in emulation of Cinderella's sisters; and — 
 climax of horrors ! the wretch abandons her curls, twists her 
 hair like a skein of yarn, i)laits it like the tail uf an arma- 
 dilla, coils it up like a rope, exposing my particular aversion, 
 a few straggling- hairs on the back of the neck ; and fortifies 
 her head with a formidable cJuveux-de-frise of combs and 
 |)in3 ! Wo to the rash man who ventures to lay a caressing 
 hand upon a woman's head ! it will prove a dangerous busi- 
 ness. Whether she completes her enormities, as Goldsmith 
 insinuates, by wearing, for her husband's detestation, " six 
 greasy night-caps," I can tell better when I am married. I 
 
156 MY COUSIN. 
 
 will only observe, en passant, that I cannot tolerate even one 
 night-cap. One of the inconsistencies of women, which has 
 always perplexed and displeased me, is, that with the power 
 to wear natural curls, she gives the preference to artificial 
 ones. 
 
 " As they were better stolen from the dead 
 Than of the native beauty of their head." 
 
 " But on that subject I shall say no more ; since Shakspeare 
 himself has in vain launched the artillery of half his sonnets 
 against false curls. Eloquence may fail — reason succumb — 
 but fashion is omnipotent." 
 
 " Have you not met with some exceptions?" 
 *' Yes, and it does my heart good to mention it. You re- 
 collect, for example, the lady at the last ball, who shone the 
 brightest in a firmament of beauty. What elegant simplicity 
 of dress ! what grace in her movements ! what sweetness in 
 her smile ! 
 
 " And ia her eyes there was such light 
 
 As beautifies the waken'd sun, 
 Advancing to the throne of night 
 
 When stars are dying one by one. 
 Her cheek was freshened by the glow 
 Of roses melting into snow. 
 
 The clusters of her raven hair, 
 
 In showers of darkness, fell to deck 
 
 Her marble brow, nor lingered there — 
 But wantoned round her snowy neck, 
 
 Till stealing to her breast's embrace. 
 
 They slept in that sweet hiding-place." 
 
MY COUSIN. 167 
 
 " There now, my dears, Ihat is the way to arrange your 
 hair to my satisfaction ; there is only one other shape in 
 which it can give me pleasure, and what that is, you can 
 gather from the following lines. 
 
 THE RINGLET. 
 
 Though to thee this little tress 
 Brings no thought of loveliness : 
 Nothing that mine eye can meet, 
 For that eye hath charm as sweet ; 
 Nor such witchery is spread 
 By the locks on beauty's head ; 
 Whether their dishevelled dance 
 Floats in wild luxuriance, 
 Or their gently waving rings 
 Fall in sunny glistenings ; 
 Or in their ambrosial wreath — 
 Violets and roses breathe ; 
 Or in regal band controlled, 
 They entwine with gems and gold. 
 Whether, their light clusters through. 
 Peeps the laughing eye of blue ; 
 Or the shade of raven wing. 
 O'er the eye of night they fling. 
 Know, if thou wouldst have me tell 
 Whence it hath derived a spell, — 
 Far all other charms above — 
 'Twas her first fond gift of love. 
 
 14 
 
VI. 
 
 LAW REPORTS. 
 
 '• And still we are prisoners to rain. In very desperation, 
 I will read a volume of Johnson's Reports." 
 
 " I will save you the trouble," said my cousin, taking up 
 a hook, which appeared to be Longworth's Directory ; and 
 he proceeded to read what I have never since been able to 
 find in that interesting work. 
 
 JVeiu-York, Common Pleas. Flam v. Sham. 
 
 This was an action in a plea of humbug. It appeared in 
 evidence that the plaintiff had written to the defendant, to 
 inquire if they had any green cucumbers to dispose of. The 
 defendant wrote in reply, that he had one thousand green cu- 
 cumbers, and the plaintiff might have them at the rate of one 
 dollar per hundred. The plaintiff, in consequence, trans- 
 mitted the defendant the sum of ten dollars, and made a great 
 preparation, inviting all his brethren to a feast of cucumbers ; 
 but, when the goods arrived, it was found that the cucumbers 
 
MY COUSIN. 159 
 
 were ichite. The plaintiff contended that the defendant had 
 not fulfilled his part of the contract, and this action was 
 brought for the recovery of the sum advanced. 
 
 Stokes, for the plaintiff, contended that white cucumbers 
 could not be comprehended under the appellation of green 
 cucumbers ; for it is an established principle of law that 
 black is not white ; ergo, white is not green. 25 Johns. 
 Rep. 200. 
 
 JVokes, for defendant. It is notorious that all cucumbers 
 arc white when they are green ; as, indeed, that is the best 
 evidence of their greenness. 12 Doru. 289. 6 Ves. 490. 
 3 Jllk. 76. It has also been laid down by Lord Eldon, that 
 blackberries are red when they are green. 35 Ch. Rep. 286. 
 
 Slakes. With submission to my learned brother, the case 
 cited is irrelevant. The principles of a court of equity are 
 not applicable at common law, for law is one thing and 
 equity another. 6 Fes. t^- £. 37. 12 J^e*. jr. 30. Black- 
 slone, 145. Besides, green' blackberries can be applied 
 to some useful purpose ; for instance, to be boiled up into 
 dye-stuff; but T put it to the court, what use in the world can 
 a man make of white cucumbers ! 
 
 JVokes. He can feed his hogs with them. 3 Chiity, 507. 
 
 .Stokes. The court must take into consideration the ob- 
 ject with which the plaintiff sent for the cucumbers. It ap- 
 pears by the evidence that it was to feast his brethren ; now, 
 feasting his hogs would not answer that purpose ; for no 
 person can say that the hogs are the plaintiff's brethren, 
 without calling the plaintiff a hog, and that is actionable, and 
 
160 MY COUSIN. 
 
 derogatory to the dignity of the court. 4 Starkie, 75. 3 Atk. 
 6. 2 Jac. 999. I Bla. 44:6. 14 Hopk. 512. 2Dick.609. 
 
 JVokes. It is considered by philosophers that there is no 
 such thing as color, that it is something merely imaginary ; 
 and of this there can be no doubt ; for here's black, white, 
 green, red, and blue ; let the couit shut their eyes, and they 
 are aU one. 
 
 Stokes. I put it to my learned brother, whether it would 
 be all one to him whether his nose were red or green ? 
 
 [Here the nose in question reddened more than ever.] 
 
 JVokes. I appeal to the court against personal reflections. 
 
 The plaintiff's counsel was called to order, and the court 
 expressed a wish to see the articles in respect to which the 
 controversy was brought. The cucumbers were accordingly 
 produced, and, after minute inspection and profound delibe- 
 ration, the court delivered the following learned and elaborate 
 opinion. 
 
 Per curiam. This is a case of great importance and 
 some difficulty. On the one hand it is contended that white 
 is not green ; and on the other, that all green cucumbers are 
 white. But it appears, that both plaintiff and defendant have 
 mistaken their grounds. Upon inspecting the articles, it is 
 evident they are neither white nor green, being both. There 
 is a case in point. In the celebrated case of Stradling versus 
 Stiles, it was decided, that pied horses did not come under 
 the denomination of black and xvhite horses, being neither 
 black nor white, but both. As to the suggestion of the de- 
 fendant's counsel to shut our eyes». and then the colors will 
 
MY COUSIN. 161 
 
 be alike, it merits our severest reprehension, as calling upon 
 the court to decide blindlij, which is inconsistent with the 
 perfection of human reason, and our known regard to justice. 
 The defendant contends that green cucumbers are all white ; 
 then, by his own showing, these cucumbers are not green, 
 inasmuch as they are not all white, but spotted with green in 
 divers places. The defendant, therefore, has not fulfilled 
 his part of the contract, and the money must be refunded. 
 You will accordingly find for the plaintiflf. 
 
 Motion in arrest of judgment, on the ground that the 
 plaintifT had, in the declaration, erroneously spelled the ar- 
 ticles cucumbers instead of cowcumhers. 
 
 This motion was resisted by the plaintiff''s counsel, on the 
 ground that the defendant had made use of the same erro- 
 neous orthography in the pleadings. 
 
 Per curiam. The motion is well taken. A word of such 
 importance ought to be properly spelled ; but the defendant, 
 having committed the same error, has no right to the remedy 
 he seeks. Even the suggested correction is erroneous, and 
 the court thinks it due to its dignity to reprimand all parties 
 for their disregard of the proper- orthography of the word, 
 which is howlc umber. The motion is denied, with costs. 
 
 14 * 
 
'4 
 
 VII. 
 
 THE LAST WORDS OF A BACHELOR. 
 
 " Don't you think it will hold up ?" 
 
 " Can't say. Thcio is a }i;rcat holding up ot' uml»iollas.'' 
 
 " O dear!" And I sauntered inoiunlully to tlic window 
 for the fiftieth tim(> within the last five minutes, and looked 
 wistfully through the streaked panes as if to stare the rain out 
 of countenance. " Stare away!" isaid the rain, as plain as it 
 could speak. 
 
 " There — look there — <food news — don't you see that 
 man is carrying his umhrclla folded up J It is evidently 
 clearing off." 
 
 " I am <j,lud to hear it, if you say so," replied my cousin. 
 
 " Why, don't you see ho has tied up his umbrella T' 
 
 " (Jood reason whv, it is blown to pieces !" 
 
 " Oh dear !" 
 
 " And look tliere at the procession of umbrellas, with 
 dripping wretches sneaking along under tiiem ; red, blue, 
 green, black, brown ; umbrella follows umbrella, presenting 
 the variety of hues, but not the cheering promise of the 
 rainbow." 
 
MY COUSIN. 163 
 
 •' dear! how I Imto un uiubrLllii !" 
 
 " Then you will have no objection to lend me yours." 
 
 " Excuse iiif, my very good cousin ; I will lend it you 
 with all the |tlea.surc in the world while you ninain hero, but 
 cannot permit it to go out of the ollico." 
 
 " Well, then, I niu.st try to do without," said my cousin. 
 " But it is time to be oil'. Pity you can't come along !" 
 
 " This intolerable influenza !" 
 
 " I told you what would be the consequence, when you 
 were .sporting your new hat ye.sterday in the winds of March, 
 ' the sunny mouth of March,' as l''elicia liemans tejms it, 
 with unreeling irony. If you had only worn a cap !" 
 
 And my cousin depuited ; and i was alone — yet not alone 
 — tli(^ induen/.a rcMuained to keep me company ; and head- 
 ache came — I could never see the use of headache. 
 
 Did you ever experience a sensation as if a stcarn-cngino 
 of a hundred thoiLsand horse power were at work within your 
 pericranium, clicking and clacking, clinking and clanging, 
 creaking and screeching, thumping and banging, crashing 
 and crushing, and playiiig the wry deuce with your unhappy 
 l)rain ? Do you feel the blood bubbling and boiling up, hissing 
 and whiz'/.ing, swelling the veins of your head till they nigh 
 burst with agony, and every throb tears like on eartluiiiakc? 
 Docs vour cheek glow, your forehead redden 1 Do you start 
 at every fall of pussy's velvet foot on the soft carpet, as if a 
 giant were trampling upon your brain? J^o you strike your 
 forehead with your right hand, and then try the left with the 
 like result? and then resort to both fist.'*, in unconscious imi- 
 tation of Kean when he exclaimed : 
 
164 MY COUSIN. 
 
 " Lear ! Lear ! Lear ! 
 Beat at this gate, that let thy folly in, 
 And thy dear judgment out !" 
 
 Do you first lean, and then beat your head against the wall ? 
 Do you fling yourself into a seat, fold your arms upon the 
 table, recline your head upon them — and start up with a 
 groan of despair t Do you dash yourself upon the floor and 
 loss about in all the varieties of a posturemasterl Do you 
 spring to your feet, snatch up, " Beccaria on Crimes," and 
 study the chapter on suicide 1 If with all this you know not 
 what is the matter, come to me and I will give it as my can- 
 did opinion, you have the headache or something like it. 
 Such were my occupations and amusements after my cousin 
 left me, while waiting the good pleasure of the weather to 
 permit my going home. Books might have been a resource, 
 though I doubt if my throbbing eyeballs could have dwelt 
 long even on a Waverley novel ; but all the books in my 
 oflice are manuscripts of business transactions, two or three 
 volumes of law, a copy of Walker's Dictionary, and Long- 
 worth's New- York Directory ; which last being the most 
 amusing of all, I toiled in very desperation through the editor's 
 pathetic denunciation of the atrocious borrowers of his useful 
 book, and yawned over the important articles in the chrono- 
 logical table, such as the " sloop St. Louis was launched in 
 June, 1828 ;" " Tom, a negro slave, died in April, 1829," 
 &c. &c. &c. Tired of this, I was thrown upon the re- 
 sources of my mind, and endeavoured to console myself by 
 inditing the following bombast : 
 
MY COUSIN. 165 
 
 Though oft this head must be a globe of pain, 
 Which the particular throb of every vein 
 Tears like an earthquake, nor shall on it play 
 One flash of glory's consecrating ray ; 
 Yet if within this fevered brain may roll 
 Tho high conceptions of the poet's soul. 
 This pained, unhonoured head, may well contemn 
 Health, glory, and imperial diadem ! 
 
 The day had been dark ever since the sun ought to have 
 risen ; but now even the gloomy phantom of daylight was 
 vanishing. I returned to the window, and after an earnest 
 stare, was satisfied there was no rain to be seen. 
 
 The number of umlirellas, indeed, was rather unfavorable 
 to the conclusion I wished to draw ;, but doubtless, said I, 
 those persons I see go past with umbrellas up, are in delicate 
 health like myself, and carry them for a protection against the 
 dampness of the air, as I intend to do with mine. The rain 
 has certainly had time to stop. At any rate it won't do to 
 sleep at the office, and I am in a hurry to get home — " Home ! 
 home I sweet home !" 
 
 And yet my home offered no particular attractions. I 
 could not, and indeed I did not, expect to find a wife there to 
 welcome mc with the sunlight of her smiles, nor a rosy child 
 to start up and shout " Papa !" and leap quivering into my 
 
 I would there were a loving eye 
 To watch my coming home, 
 
 And arms that would wide open fly 
 To clasp me when I come ; 
 
166 MY COUSIN. 
 
 And lips that when the toil of day 
 
 My weary brow opprcst, 
 Would sweetly kiss the pain away, 
 
 And cherish me to rest ! 
 Oh then, whatever toil or care, 
 
 To every day were known, 
 For such reward I well could bear — 
 
 But I am ail alone ! 
 
 But it is not my fault, ladies, " most sweet ladies," it is not 
 my fault ! nor yours either, my dears ! Doubtless the wife I 
 have long been in search of is somewhere to be found ; but 
 as I do not know loliere that somewhere is, I would thank her 
 to save me the trouble of further search, by sending me word, 
 " post paid," That the wrong lady may not apply, I give a 
 desci-iption of the right one : 
 
 In person decent, and in dress, 
 Her manners and her words express 
 
 The decency of mind ; 
 Good humour brightens up her face, 
 Where passion never leaves a trace, 
 
 Nor frowns a look unkind. 
 
 No vexing sneer, no angry word. 
 No scandal from her lips is heard. 
 
 Where truth and sweetness blend ; 
 Submission to her husband's will. 
 Her study is to please him still, 
 
 His fond and faithful friend. 
 
 She watches his returning way. 
 When from the troubles of the day 
 
 He seeks a home of bliss ; 
 She runs to meet him with a smile, 
 And if no eye be near the while. 
 
 The smile is with a kiss ! 
 
MY COUSIN. 167 
 
 Ah ! could I meet with such a wife ! 
 For she would make my weary life 
 
 A paradise below 1 
 And surely earth can give the same — 
 But where she lives, and what her name, 
 
 l!> — what I wish to know ! 
 
 As soon as I stepped out of my office, I discovered that 
 the rain, though invisible, was not impalpable. My umbrella, 
 which had been thoroughly soaked in coming to the office, 
 and was still bowed down with a weight of water, flapped in 
 my face and about my ears like the wings of a crippled 
 dragon. My coat flew open, and the skirts " streamed like a 
 meteor to the troubled Avind," while the rain pelted my inex- 
 pressibles ; the mud and water entered my water-proof boots 
 by some invisible apertures ; a sudden gust of wind blew the 
 umbrella out of my hands, and myself upon my back. I 
 crawled to my feet and gave chase to the umbrella, limping 
 hopping, jumping, splashing and floundering along after it ; 
 and succeeded in recovering it just as it was making the best 
 of its way into the North River. I had scarce time to con- 
 gratulate myself, when another furious gust blew the um- 
 brella inside out ; and another again blew it down with such 
 violence that it broke upon my head and encircled my neck. 
 At this moment I met my cousin, who had stopped at home, 
 and was now on the way to a party to which we had both 
 been invited, but which the influenza had obliged me to 
 decline. 
 
 My cousin stopped and laughed. I tried. 
 
 " Come," said my cousin, ofTering his arm, " you see I 
 
 d'J 
 
168 MY COUSIN. 
 
 have borrowed an umbrella ;" and he laughed more than 
 ever. People are very foolish to lend umbrellas. 
 
 I would advise you never to walk arm in arm with any 
 body under the same umbrella. Stand as uncomfortably 
 close as you can, still at least one of your shoulders will find 
 itself right under the extremity of the umbrella down which 
 the rain is pouring. I have the rheumatism in my left 
 shoulder. 
 
 While I grumbled at every step, my cousin, by way of 
 condolence, hummed the following song — 
 
 I'm complaining, I'm complaining, 
 
 And good reason why ; 
 It is raining, it is raining ! 
 
 When will it be dry 1 
 I'm complaining, I'm complaining, 
 
 For I'm soaking wet, 
 And 'lis raining, and 'tis raining, 
 
 Raining, raining yet I 
 
 I'm complaining, I'm complaining, 
 
 My umbrella's broke, 
 And 'lis raining, and 'tis raining. 
 
 Plague upon the joke ! 
 I'm complaining, I'm complaining. 
 
 Sure a cold I'll get ! 
 And 'tis raining, and 'tis raining, 
 
 Raining, raining yet ! 
 Raining, raining, raining, raining. 
 
 Raining! raining yet! 
 
 My cousin favored me with the drippings of his umbrella 
 till we reached my boarding-house, when he took leave of 
 me. " Now for a little comfort !" thought I ; " a glowing 
 fire, a warm and fragrant cup of coftee, and the Evening 
 
 .ffil^ 
 
MY COUSIN. 169 
 
 Star.'' I entered the parlor — not a spark of fire iif the grate ! 
 At this wi'^rateful spectacle I hastily retreated to the base- 
 ment. On throwing open the door I recoiled, like poor Fat- 
 una at the first glance of the fatal chamber. Lines crossing 
 each other in every direction stretched from wall to wall, 
 laden with linen dripping from the tub. A red-haired, blue- 
 armed, " green-eyed monster," was splashing the suds in 
 every direction ; and a younger animal of the same species 
 was scrubbing the uncarpeted floor. Two or three green 
 sticks of wood were puffing away in the fireplace, with feeble 
 efforts at burning, and an immense kettle full of soaking 
 clothes hung from the trammel. 
 
 I am a patient man. 
 
 " Why is there no fire up stairs ?" 
 
 " The coal is all out, and they ask fifteen dollars a ton : 
 and this is no weather for to get more." 
 
 " Where is the coffee ?" 
 
 A cupful of cold black water was handed to me by the 
 monster, who held it with her thumb in the midst of it. I 
 took the cup of "coffee" from her, and looked at it. 
 
 " Where is the paper ?" 
 
 " Why we had to tear it up to make the fire burn." 
 
 I did not swear. I repeat, I am a palient man. 
 
 " I will go to bed." 
 
 I took a candle and toiled my way to my atiic bedroom. 
 I entered — and patience did forsake me. The bed was 
 drenched with inverted water-spouts streaming through the 
 roof. 
 
 15 
 
170 - MY COUSIN. 
 
 " This, indeed, is too much !" I exclaimed ; " all that re- 
 mains is to poison myself. Yes! I will poison myself ! I 
 will take a box of Doolittle's pills. Adieu, gentle reader ! 
 " Adieu ! adieu ! adieu ! remember me !" or forget me, if you 
 like that better. But fare thee well ! Vale ! vale ! 
 
 The eye that has seen me 
 
 Shall see me no more : 
 The heart that has loved me 
 
 My fate shall deplore. 
 The worm-tangled sod 
 
 My body shall cover, 
 It oft shall be trod 
 
 By friend or by lover, 
 Nor ever the clod 
 
 Their presence discover. 
 
 I've genius, I've fame, 
 
 I've friends without number, 
 But the sound of my name 
 
 Shall not break on my slumber, 
 The harp that I sweep 
 
 Shall rot in my grave ; 
 My friends can but weep — 
 
 They never could save ! 
 
 Thou beautiful world ! 
 
 Farewell ! and ye skies ! 
 f Your glory forever 
 
 Must fade from mine eyes ! 
 And I must be hidden 
 
 The cold grave within, 
 To be as a thing • , 
 
 That never had been ! 
 
 And these toere the la^t words of a bachelor — for though I 
 only took the pills — to the window — and threw them out — 
 the next day I ceased to exist — as a bachelor. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
WALTER SCOTT AND WASHINGTON IRVING. 
 
 God bless thee, Walter Scott ! 
 
 For thou hast bless'd mankind, 
 And flung upon their lot 
 
 The brightness of thy mind, 
 And filled the soul with pleasures 
 
 None other can impart, 
 And stored the mind with treasures, 
 
 And purified the heart. 
 Shame on them who abuse 
 
 Their gifts of peerless price, 
 And prostitute the muse 
 
 To passion or to vice ! 
 Who pour into the mind 
 
 The bitterness and gall 
 Which makes us hate mankind, 
 
 Ourselves, and heaven and all ! 
 We leave their withering page 
 
 For thine, with healing rife. 
 The fevered soul assuage, 
 
 And drink the stream of life ! 
 Thy shrine is virtue's altar. 
 
 Thy fame without a blot ; 
 15* 
 
174 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 God bless thee, dear Sir Walter ! 
 God bless thee, Walter Scott ! 
 
 One only son of light 
 
 Attends thy cloudless path, 
 In purity as bright 
 
 As thy own spirit hath ; 
 To charm away distress. 
 
 To comfort, to delight, 
 To teach, to aid, to bless, 
 
 He shares thy wizard might. 
 His muse from virtue's shrine 
 
 Has never turned astray, 
 Nor ever breathed a line 
 
 That love could wish away ; 
 The temple of the free 
 
 Is radiant with his fame ; 
 His country's glory he — 
 
 And Irving is his name. 
 
 God's blessing on ye both ! 
 
 Twin heirs of glory's prize ! 
 How often, when I loathe 
 
 All that around me lies, 
 When, in the crowded world 
 
 I feel myself alone. 
 From all communion hurled 
 
 That by the rest is known, 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 175 
 
 Debarred by fate's control, 
 
 From every humsin sound, 
 And burying my soul 
 
 In solitude profound — 
 Oh then, ye glorious pair ! 
 
 I seek the world ye give. 
 And find a kindred there 
 
 With whom I love to live, 
 Your precious magic nerving 
 
 My soul to bear its lot — 
 God bless thee, gentle Irving ! 
 
 God bless thee, Walter Scott I 
 
 FOREST MUSINGS. 
 
 When I am dead, I would be laid 
 Within a wood's romantic shade. 
 With canopying boughs, to wave 
 Blossoms and leaflets on the grave, 
 Whose grassy sod, in dew bespangled. 
 With wilding flowers in beauty tangled. 
 For I would linger to the last 
 In scenes of this bewitching cast, 
 As if in death itself to feel 
 Their beauty's magic on me steal. 
 
176 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS 
 
 But let us on — the dying day 
 Reminds us of the lengthened way — 
 ToiUng through tangled wood and brake, 
 At last we reach the forest-lake, 
 What time the sun's departing gleams 
 Mix with the moon's efTulging beams. 
 Which in a dance of splendor quiver 
 Upon that verdure-girdled river ; 
 The glory of its beauty lies 
 An image of the rainbow skies, 
 In lucid silver here unroll'd. 
 And burning there with liquid gold ; 
 In flashing brilliance wreaths between 
 The ruby's glow, or emerald's green, 
 And azure blends its softest dye, 
 (The sweetest tint in woman's eye) — 
 While midst a rush of darkness flings 
 The temper of its shadowings ! 
 
 But we must homeward — scenes so dear ! 
 I leave you — would my home were here ! 
 Scarce in these fairy scenes the name 
 Of toil, would toil deserve to claim, 
 While drowning labour's stroke were heard 
 The carol of the bright-winged bird. 
 Till pour'd the sun his hottest tide, 
 When I might fling my tools aside, 
 And then from the meridian heat 
 To verdant canopies retreat, 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS 177 
 
 Beneath the shading trees lo bask 
 At leisure from the morning's task, 
 And by the minstrel-wizard's page 
 Transport my mind to fancy's stage. 
 And in his bright creation drown'd 
 Awhile be from the world unbound ; 
 While she — my beautiful — my bright — 
 Bent with my own her eyes of light 
 Upon the page, and caught the fire 
 With mine her bosom to inspire ; 
 And rosy cherubs, on whose faces 
 Of hers and mine combined the traces, 
 Around us gambol'd in the free 
 Wild frolic mirth of infancy. 
 Or to our arms alternate springing. 
 Their lips to ours in fondness clinging. 
 They lisp'd the name of " Father dear !'* 
 A name that I shall never hear ! 
 
 Though deep is my regret that slumbers 
 
 My ear to music's thrilling numbers, 
 
 Which in Elysium could embower 
 
 My spirit, in the happier hour 
 
 Of childhood, when I bending hung 
 
 Beside the trembling strings, which rung 
 
 Beneath the hand of ivory whiteness. 
 
 Whose fingers danced with snowy lightness — 
 
178 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS 
 
 Though deep is my regret that ne'er 
 Shall nature's music bless my ear, 
 The warbling of the feather'd throng 
 Winging to heaven with their glad song, 
 The torrent's dash, the streamlet's flow, 
 The slumbering ocean's breathings low, 
 Or the wild terror of itfs roar, 
 Foaming against the rocky shore. 
 The evening zephyrs' whispered sighs, 
 The thunder bursting through the skies- 
 
 Though deep is my regret that those 
 Must find my ear against them close, 
 Were this the only curse ordain'd, 
 Methinks it might be well sustain'd — 
 But ah ! my lot indeed is hard 
 To be from human voice debarr'd ! 
 
 Though fortune ever on me frown'd, 
 The smiles of friendship I have found, 
 And lips of love at times have prest me— 
 But ah ! their accents never blest me ! 
 At times my heart is almost broken, 
 To think, of all the accents spoken, 
 Not one, not even one, shall ever 
 Address my ear — oh never ! never ! 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 179 
 
 MY CAP. 
 
 My Ccip ! my well-worn leather cap ! 
 
 Though time has dimmed thy glossy hue. 
 Though broken hangs thy useless strap, 
 
 And spots obscure thy band of blue, 
 I would not give thee for the best 
 
 That graces fashion's votary ; 
 So long hast thou my brow carest. 
 
 Thou hast become a part of me ; 
 
 And happy thoughts, of better worth, 
 
 Are born in thy obscure embrace, 
 Than any diadem of earth 
 
 Encircles in its resting place. 
 With thee on my unhonor'd head 
 
 I con the page of mystic lore. 
 Explore the lights by genius shed, 
 
 And gather wisdom's precious ore. 
 
 For years, in every scene of pride 
 
 Or joy that it was mine to tread, 
 My chosen friend was at my side. 
 
 And thou, my cap ! upon my head ; 
 And thus we rambled many a mile, 
 
 To witness nature's wildest charms, 
 To revel in her glorious smile. 
 
 Or worship her subUme alarms. 
 
ISO MISCELLANEOUS POEMS 
 
 We braved the tempest's furious shock. 
 
 In shivering night, or burning day ; 
 Headlong we leaped from rock to rock, 
 
 Or through the forest toil'd our way, 
 Or wander'd where the rivers glide 
 
 In darkness by the tangled cliff, 
 Or toss'd upon their swelling tide 
 
 That sobbed around the shuddering skiff! 
 
 With Jerome thou hast seen me share 
 
 All the communion friendship knows. 
 The wildest hope, the deepest care, 
 
 The brightest joys, the darkest woes — 
 To him, then, when I must depart 
 
 To lay my head in nature's lap, 
 For kingdom I'd bequeath my heart, 
 
 For diadem — my leather cap ! 
 
 THE WAR-HORSE. 
 
 Job xxxix. 19 to 25. 
 
 His neck is encircled with thunder ; 
 
 The vallies resound at his tread ; 
 In the pride of his strength he rejoiceth. 
 
 And mocketh at danger and dread ; 
 He laughs at the sound of the trumpet. 
 
 He smelleth the battle afar ; 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 181 
 
 The thunder of captains, the shouting,* 
 
 And hastens to be where they are ; 
 He teareth the ground in his fury. 
 
 While rushing away to the field, 
 Where rattleth the quiver against him. 
 
 The glitterhig spear and the shield ! 
 
 AN EPISTLE 
 
 TO ELEAZER PARMLY. 
 
 The loveliest and holiest thing 
 That may to human vision spring 
 Is infancy, whose cherub charms 
 Are cradled in the mother's arms. 
 What awe its beauty should command ! 
 Fresh from the consecrating hand 
 Of its Creator, we may trace 
 The tints of heaven upon its face, 
 And in its sweet and sinless eyes, 
 The glories of its native skies. 
 
 Now pillow'd on the yielding breast, 
 It softly sinks to balmy rest; 
 But ah! what fiend disturbs its dreams? 
 It starts awake — it cries — it screams — 
 15 
 
J 82 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 The mother's soothing words are vain 
 
 To calm the agony of pain — 
 
 In vain the kiss, the soft caress, 
 
 The looks that vi^orlds of love express — 
 
 No charm can lull the pain to sleep — 
 
 The mother can no more but weep. 
 
 What sudden fear suspends her breath ? 
 Before her glides the phantom death — 
 She clasps her babe in terror wild — 
 *' Strike — if thou wilt — but not my child !" 
 
 Now turn we to the brilliant scene. 
 Where beauty moves, a peerless queen ; 
 Behold that bright and glorious one. 
 Amid a thousand stars the sun ! 
 Oh never yet did eye behold 
 A form more perfect ! for the mould 
 Of every feature, were a charm 
 That would alone all blame disarm 
 Were all imperfect else — but all 
 Are perfect — sculptor could not call 
 From his poetic dreams a grace 
 That is not breathing o'er that face, 
 Nor with such soft celestial streak 
 Could aptest painter tinge the cheek. 
 
 Her noble forehead, high and fair, 
 With majesty doth beauty share ; 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 183 
 
 The liquid azure of the skies 
 Is imaged in her melting eyes : 
 Her sunny tresses roll to deck 
 The marble of her brow and neck, 
 Beautiful as the golden rings 
 That float upon a seraph's wings ! 
 
 Gazing upon her, you could weep 
 In raptures passionate and deep — 
 But when she smiles — oh then is felt 
 The heart in gushing pleasure melt ! 
 
 But ah ! that smile forsakes her face, 
 And writhing pain usurps the place : 
 The voice that gush'd in liquid words, 
 Sweet as the song of summer birds, 
 Now quivers with convulsive sighs. 
 And tears bedim the sunny eyes. 
 
 High on his throne of glory sits 
 The conqueror of Austerlitz : 
 Above him conquest's wings unfurl'd, 
 And at his feet a trembling world ! 
 His lordly glance he proudly flings 
 On shivered thrones and crouching kings ; 
 Surpassing all of mortal birth, 
 He deems himself a god on earth ! 
 But lo ! a sudden thrill of pain 
 That shoots through every nerve and vein ; 
 
184 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 And he who saw with marble eye. 
 And cheek unblanched, his niiUions die» 
 And rush'd himself to death's embrace. 
 To grapple with him face to face — 
 The man of iron, deigns to own 
 His mortal nature by a groan ! 
 
 What pouor this demon can disarm^ 
 No infant innocence can charm, 
 Nor roseate childhood's budding flower, 
 Nor beauty in her jjroudest hour ; 
 Nor stern pliiiosophy enthrall, 
 Nor valour thai could conquer all. 
 
 That power, my friend, that power is thine, 
 For whom this humble wreath I twine ; 
 How many a mother's anxious heart 
 Has blest thee and thy skilful art. 
 While snateh'd from pain, the cherub child 
 Look'd in thy face — and grateful smiled — 
 How often beauty's glorious blaze 
 Upon thee beams with thankful rays — 
 And godlike genius, which careers 
 Sublime through systems, suns, and spheres, 
 Freed by thy science from the pain 
 That dragged its flight to earth again. 
 Upon its wing would waft thy name 
 To place it with the stars of fame. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 185 
 
 With these permit a youthful friend 
 His humbler oftering to blend 
 Nor wealth nor fame to him belong — 
 So take — his friendship and a song ! 
 
 THE PICTURE. 
 
 " On revient toujours a ses premiers amours." 
 
 I glanced at a picture ; 
 
 I paused with delight ; 
 A vision of beauty 
 
 Return'd to my sight ; 
 The years of my boyhood 
 
 Rush'd back to my soul, 
 When love first awaken'd 
 
 Its witching control. 
 
 I gazed at the picture — 
 
 The heavenly glow — 
 The ringlets of raven, 
 
 The forehead of snow, 
 The lip of a seraph, — 
 
 And — sweetest to me — 
 The eyes of pure heaven — 
 
 All whisper'd of thee ! 
 
 15* 
 
186 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 First love of my bosom ! 
 
 Bright star of my youth ! 
 Whom still I have worshipp'd 
 
 In silence and truth — 
 Though long I have shunn'd thee. 
 
 As thou wert forgot, 
 Too noble to wish thee 
 
 My wearisome lot — 
 
 And trusting a better 
 
 Ere long thou shouldst meet. 
 The treasures of fortune, 
 
 To lay at thy feet ; 
 No selfish impression 
 
 Had place in my breast ; 
 And the bliss that I sought, 
 
 Was to know thou wert blest. 
 
 One glance at a picture 
 
 Has shook my repose. 
 And open'd the fountains 
 
 I struggled to close, 
 And sent me to whisper 
 
 The voice of my heart. 
 And to ask if thy own 
 
 Can an echo impart. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 187 
 
 I'll battle with fortune, 
 
 I'll struggle for fame, 
 Till the halo of glory 
 
 Encircles my name ; 
 And lord of the treasures 
 
 IJy genius unrolled^ 
 I'll envy no mortal 
 
 Whose treasure is — gold J 
 
 No fortune I offer 
 
 To dazzle thy sight, 
 But name that is spotless, 
 
 And fame that is bright ; 
 A mind that is gifted, 
 
 A heart that is pure, 
 A soul whose affection 
 
 Shall ever endure* 
 
 Hast thou too remember'd 
 
 The dream of our youth, 
 And cherish'd i!s flame 
 
 On the altar of truth? 
 The star of my home 
 
 And my heart, wilt thou shine ? 
 My chosen ! my cherub ! 
 
 Say — wilt thou be mine ? 
 
188 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 I triumph ! I triumph ! 
 
 She yields to my claim, 
 Preferring to fortune 
 
 My love and my fame ! 
 The man has accomplish'd 
 
 The dream of the boy ! 
 Thou friend of my bosom ! 
 
 Rejoice in my joy ! 
 
 MY WIFE. 
 
 A wife — no flame of fickle glow 
 
 For wanton moths to flutter round, 
 No soulless picture for a show, 
 
 No slave in fashion's fetters bound ; 
 No dressed-up doll, for vain parade, 
 
 No toy for pleasure's giddy dance, 
 No trifling fool, by caprice swayed. 
 
 No prude that chills the heart's romance ; 
 Though such a thousand charms may own. 
 
 And fortune, boundless as the sea. 
 Or even beckon from a throne. 
 
 Oh, such is not the wife for me ! 
 
 But give me one whose youth has sprung 
 Ensancturaried in her home, 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 189 
 
 The dear domestic ties among 
 
 From which our holiest feelings come ; 
 
 Where like a (lower of Eden sweet. 
 She breathes all love and purity — 
 
 Oh, were it mine with such to meet ! 
 For such should be the wife for me ! 
 
 A wife ! — I in a wife would find 
 
 A ministering angel's part. 
 To soothe my vexed and wearied mind, 
 
 To balm and bless my wounded heart ; 
 To pillow on her gentle breast 
 
 My aching head, and while her kiss 
 My brow of agony caressed, 
 
 To change its throbs to thrills of bliss. 
 
 Or if in lingering pain I lay, 
 
 To hover near my restless bed. 
 With care unwearied night and day, 
 
 "With angel look, and fairy tread ; 
 To do whate'er may do me good — 
 
 And if a murmur from me breaks, 
 To bear with every wayward mood 
 
 The fretfulness of pain awakes. 
 
 In better hours with heart and soul 
 
 My pleasures, hopes, and views to share, 
 
 And when misfortunes on us roll. 
 To bear, and teach me how to bear. 
 
190 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 With me on pious knee to fall 
 Before our God, and from above 
 
 Upon each other's head to call 
 The choicest blessings of his love. 
 
 '• Through good or ill, through storm or shine," 
 
 In sickness, poverty, or death. 
 To cling to me, entirely min<c, 
 
 Unchanging to her latest breath : 
 To gratify my least desire. 
 
 To all my wants to minister — 
 All this from her I would require — 
 
 All this and more I'd do for her. 
 
 For such a wife, in every part 
 
 My anxious glance had long been cast ; 
 
 But dearest ! now I read thy heart, 
 And know that she is found at last ! 
 
 THE RECOLLECTIONS OF THE PEOPLE. 
 
 FROM THE FRENCH. 
 
 He and his glory shall be long 
 The theme of fireside tale and song. 
 In fifty years there shall be known 
 No history, but his alone, 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 191 
 
 Within the humble cottage, where 
 
 At eve the peasants shall repair, 
 
 And to some reverend dame shall say ; 
 
 " By stories of a former day, 
 
 Good mother, help us pass the time — 
 
 Oh speak of him, that man sublime ! 
 
 Though some, his fame to dim. 
 Pretend that he has wrought us ill, 
 The people all revere him still, 
 Revere him still, revere him still — 
 
 Good mother speak of him ! " 
 
 " My children, in my early life, 
 When I had scarce become a wife, 
 He pass'd this village with a train 
 Of kings — a better view to gain, 
 I stood upon a hill — he came 
 Anon, and climbed the very same. 
 He was not marked by proud array. 
 But well his riding-hood of grey 
 And little hat we knew. 
 
 I trembled when I saw him near — 
 He spoke to me — " Good day, my dear — 
 Good day, my dear — Good day, my dear." 
 
 " Ah ! did he speak to you ?" 
 
 " I saw him the succeeding year 
 At Paris with hia court appear. 
 
192 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Upon his way to Notre Dame. 
 
 All eyes admired his splendour's flame; 
 
 But when he smiled, that smile so sweet, 
 
 It made all hearts with rapture beat ! 
 
 ' Behold,' were our exulting cries, 
 
 ' Behold the favourite of the skies ! 
 
 Still to his fortune true. 
 They crown his wishes every one. 
 They bless him with a lovely son — 
 A lovely son — a lovely son.' 
 
 " What happy times for you /" 
 
 But when our country fell at last, 
 A prey to hireling strangers cast. 
 He braved all perils round her thrown, 
 And seem'd to keep the field alone. 
 One day I heard a knock — to me 
 It seems but yesterday to be — 
 The door I opcn'd — and good God ! 
 'Twas he ! — with weary step he trod — 
 
 He sunk into this chair — 
 Behind him came an escort slight — 
 He sigh'd and said, ' Oh fatal fight ! 
 Oh fatal fight ! Oh fatal fight !' 
 
 " Ah ! 7vas he seated there ?" 
 
 " He said, ''J'm hungry ;' and in haste 
 I bread and wine before him placed, 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 193 
 
 And by the fireside here he slept — 
 Awaking, he perceived I wept — 
 He said to me — ' Bonne esperance ! 
 I hasten to avenge my France, 
 
 And shield you from all ill ! ' 
 He v,ent — his glass I've treasured well — ^ 
 Its worth to me ill could I tell — 
 111 could I tell— ill could I tell ! " 
 
 Ah ! have you got it still ? " 
 
 " See, here it is ! — But he was borne 
 
 To ruin we must ever mourn ! 
 
 He whom the Holy Father crown'd 
 
 And consecrated — he has found 
 
 Upon a desert isle his grave ! 
 
 We to his death no credence gave 
 
 At first — ' He comes to set us free ! 
 
 The stranger shall his master see 
 
 Again ! ' we fondly said — 
 But when at last his real fate 
 Was known too well, my grief was great — 
 My grief was great — my grief was great ! " 
 GotVs blessings on yotir head ! " 
 
 16 
 
194 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 YOUNG NAPOLEON AT HIS FATHER'S GRAVE. ^ 
 
 rROM THE GERMAN OF SAPHIR. 
 
 The king of Rome in slumber 
 
 In Schonbrun's garden lies ; 
 Sees not the light of heaven, 
 
 Sees not the vaulted skies ; 
 Far on a foreign island 
 ■ RecHnes Napoleon ; 
 Lies not with his own people. 
 
 Lies not beside his son ; 
 Lies not amid his marshals, 
 
 The pillars of his throne. 
 Lies not among his soldiers, 
 
 In Europe, once his own ; 
 But buried deep in darkness, 
 
 Mid circling seas and skies. 
 Chained to a rock forever 
 
 The dead Prometheus lies. 
 
 Where scorching sunbeams wither 
 
 Trunk, leaf, and branch and all. 
 The mighty Emperor slumbers, 
 
 " The little Corporal ! " 
 No flowers above him flourish^ 
 
 No cypress branches wave ; 
 In sight of all creation, 
 
 No pilgrim seeks his grave. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 195 
 
 Thus many years he slumbers, 
 
 Deserted and alone ; 
 When hark ! there comes at midnight 
 
 A knock upon the stone ; 
 A knock — a gentle whisper 
 
 But of no mortal breath : » 
 
 " Wake up ! wake up ! thou hero ! 
 
 Wake from the sleep of death !" 
 Another knock and whisper ; 
 
 " Rise mighty Emperor ! 
 Here to thy court with tidings 
 
 Comes earth's ambassador ! " 
 Another knock and whisper : 
 
 " Rise father ! take me home ! 
 My soul has come in lightning ! 
 
 Thy only child has come ! " 
 
 Earth crumbles — marble sunders, 
 
 And heaves aside the Ud, 
 That long of the dead hero 
 
 The awful ashes hid, 
 And then its fleshless finger 
 
 Th' imperial corpse extends, 
 To show his heir of glory 
 
 His empire's farthest end. 
 
 " Look down into my palace. 
 My dear, my only son ! 
 
196 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Again do I behold thee. 
 
 My child — Napoleon ! 
 Survey the ground beneath me. 
 
 The walls on either hand ; 
 The length and breadth thou seest 
 
 Of all thy father's land ! "^ 
 Then hand in hand they grappled 
 
 In skeleton embrace ; 
 And lip to lip caressing, 
 
 They nestled face to face ; 
 The grave closed in that moment 
 
 On father and on son ; 
 And vanished in that moment 
 
 The House, Napoleon ! 
 
 THE MIDNIGHT REVIEW. 
 
 FROM THE GERMAN OF ZEDLIZ. 
 
 The drummer from his grave 
 
 At midnight seeks the ground. 
 And drumming up and down 
 
 Parades around and round ; 
 Fast in his fleshless grasp 
 
 The drumsticks rise and fall. 
 To roll the reveille 
 
 And beat the muster- call. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 197 
 
 And as the drum gives out 
 
 Its wild and awful sound, 
 The dead old soldiers rise 
 
 From slumber under ground ; 
 Those frozen into stone 
 
 In deepest northern snows, 
 Those who in fervid sun 
 
 Of Italy repose, 
 Those hid in slime of Nile, 
 
 Or in Arabia's sand — 
 All start up from their graves, 
 
 And take the sword in hand ! 
 
 And wakes the trumpeter 
 
 When midnight shadows frown, 
 And blows a stirring blast, 
 
 And gallops up and down ; 
 And forth on airy steeds 
 
 Dead riders swiftly pass, 
 The veteran bands of blood 
 
 With arms of every class ; 
 Forth from the helmed skull 
 
 Gleams out the spectral eye. 
 And waves the bony hand 
 
 The flashing sword on high. 
 
 Now comes at midnight hour 
 The General from his grave, 
 16* 
 
19S MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Surrounded by his slaff 
 
 The bravest of the brave. 
 Upon a courser white 
 
 He slowly rides his way ; 
 He wears a little hat, 
 
 A riding-hood of gray, 
 The moon with golden light 
 
 Illumes the spacious plain ; 
 He of the little hat 
 
 Surveys the martial train. 
 Which at his summons shook 
 
 The world with war's alarms ; 
 The ranks at his approach 
 
 Present and shoulder arms : 
 Then all the army files 
 
 Along with clinking sound ; 
 The marshals and the chiefs 
 
 Their General close around. 
 
 The leader breathes a word 
 
 Into his neighbour's ear, 
 And round and round it goes 
 
 In whispers far and near. 
 And round and round it goes 
 
 Still echoed far and nigh — 
 The word "5/. Helena! " 
 
 And " France ! " the battle-cry. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 199 
 
 This is Ihe great parade 
 
 That Gvcry midnight yields, 
 Which the dead Ctcsar holds 
 
 In the Elysian fields. 
 
 THE BIRTH OF PRINTING. 
 
 FROM THE DUTCH OF TOLLENS. 
 
 With glowing face and beaming eye, 
 Earth's angel turned to the most High, 
 
 While hell was moved with ire ; 
 He bowed before the godhead's throne 
 Until the will supreme was known, 
 Then from the beams that round him shone 
 
 He caught a radiant fire. 
 Away through systems and through spheres, 
 With floating wing he downward steers, 
 More nigh to earth, and nighcr. 
 
 Now o'er the cloud-encircled sphere 
 He hovers, still more near and near ; 
 
 And now a moment stays 
 On doubtful wing, to watch the whole, 
 While kingdoms, states, and nations roll 
 
 Alternate on his gaze. 
 He searches all, to find the place 
 Most worthy upon earth to grace 
 
 With the celestial rays. 
 
200 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 At last he saw a little spot, 
 Neglected, humble, and forgot, 
 
 The lowest at his feet ; 
 But from the sea, its place of birth, 
 Soon to arise the pearl of earth, 
 
 For heaven a jewel meet. 
 That spot still keeping in his sight. 
 With rapid wing he speeds his flight, 
 
 Descending from on high — 
 Then down he pours, in dazzling blaze, 
 The glory of the sacred rays 
 
 He ushered from the sky. 
 
 At once through clouds and vapours streams 
 The sacred fire, with flashing beams 
 
 To Netherland it flies ; 
 And there remains, forever bright, 
 The ray of heaven, creation's light, 
 
 The sun of mental eyes. 
 
 Among the groves while *Koster strayed, 
 Deep-musing in their quivering shade, 
 
 Some blessing to impart — 
 Behold the god-born spirit rushes 
 Upon him — light around him gushes 
 
 And flashes to his heart ! — 
 
 * Laurent Koster, to whom the invention of printing is nscribcd, at 
 
 least by his own countrymen. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 201 
 
 He feels — he welcomes — through his veins 
 It tingles — Earth ! thy glory reigns ! 
 Behold the printer's art ! 
 
 SPRING IS COMING. 
 
 Spring is coming ! spring is coming ! 
 Birds are chirping, insects humming ; 
 Flowers are peeping from their sleeping ; 
 Streams, escaped from winter's keeping, 
 In delighted freedom rushing, 
 Dance along in music gushing. 
 
 Scenes, of late in deadness saddened. 
 
 Smile in animation gladdened : 
 
 All is beauty, all is mirth. 
 
 All is glory upon earth ; 
 
 Shout we then with nature's voice, 
 
 " Welome spring ! rejoice ! rejoice !" 
 
 Spring is coming I come, my brother, 
 Let us wander with each other 
 To our well remembered wildwood. 
 Flourishing in nature's childhood. 
 Where a thousand birds are singing 
 And a thousand flowers are springing^ 
 
202 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 When the dancing sunbeams quiver 
 On the forest-shaded river ; 
 Let our youth of feeling out 
 To the youth of nature shout, 
 While the waves repeat our voice — 
 " Welcome spring ! rejoice ! rejoice 
 
 LOVE WILL FIND OUT THE WAY. 
 
 Though father and mother 
 
 Forbid me thy sight, 
 Though sister and brother 
 
 Against us unite, 
 Though all that surround us 
 
 To part us assay. 
 From all will I win thee — 
 
 Love will find out the way. 
 
 Though oceans may sunder, 
 
 Or mountains may close, 
 Or tempests may thunder 
 
 The path to oppose ; 
 Though earthquakes between us 
 
 The abyss may display, 
 Through all will I win thee — 
 
 Love will find out the way. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 203 
 
 Through forest and desert, 
 
 Through flood and through flames 
 Through pain and thro' perils 
 
 Through sorrow and shame, 
 Through darkness and danger, 
 
 By night or by day, 
 Through death and destruction, 
 
 Love will find out the way. 
 
 Yes, I will regain thee, 
 
 My chosen, my best ! 
 My bird ! thou shalt nestle 
 
 Again in my breast ;] 
 This heart for thy refuge, 
 
 This arm for thy stay, 
 I will guard thee forever — 
 
 Love will find out the way- 
 
 THE SUN. 
 
 Come forth, thou glorious sun ! 
 
 And brighten up the skies, 
 And smile the world upon, 
 
 Whose life is in thine eyes ! 
 Thou beautiful and bright ! 
 
 Come to thy throne of day, 
 Within whose mellow light 
 
 My soul would melt away ! 
 
204 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS, 
 
 He comes ! he comes ! he blesses 
 
 Creation like a god ; 
 And flin«:s his golden tresses 
 
 Of glory all abroad ! 
 Look up, my soul, forsaken 
 
 But now by every one, 
 To greet thy friend awaken — 
 
 The sun ! the lovely sun ! 
 
 WHAT SHOULD WE DO, MY BROTHER? 
 
 Where pleasant fields are growing, 
 
 Where rocks are tossed on high, 
 Where streams in music flowing 
 
 Delight the ear and eye. 
 Where rivalling each other. 
 
 Fair scenes invite our choice, 
 What should we do, my brother 1 
 
 Rejoice ! we should rejoice ! 
 
 Where woods in tangled wildness 
 
 Oppose our weary way. 
 Where bowers in shady mildness 
 
 Invite a sweet delay, 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 602 
 
 Where wild birds to each other 
 
 Their bhthesome carols voice, 
 What should we do, my brother 1 
 
 Rejoice ! we should rejoice ! 
 
 When slowly home returning, 
 
 While moonlight's golden streams 
 Refresh the veins, still burning 
 
 With day's departing beams, 
 While cheering on each other 
 
 AVith songs of merry voice, 
 What should we do, my brother ? 
 
 Rejoice ! we should rejoice ! 
 
 A WINTER ASPIRATION. 
 
 Oh come, thou beautiful spirit of spring, 
 Let the demon of winter before thee fly. 
 
 While the gentle fan of thy delicate wing 
 Repels the ardour of summer's eye ! 
 
 Oh come, with thy infant fruits and flowers, 
 
 Thy sunny snules and thy fragremt showers ! 
 Oh come ! oh come ! 
 
 Oh come, and preserve us from tempest and cold, 
 
 With thy beautiful calm and thy delicate heat ! 
 
 17 
 
2CC MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Oh come, and the thousands of beauties unfold 
 
 That Ue in concealment thy welcome to greet ! 
 Oh come, to thy desolate bridegroom, the earth ! 
 Restore him to beauty, to love, and to mirth ! 
 Oh come ! oh come ! 
 
 SONG OF AUSTERLITZ. 
 
 " Pass the word from left to right !" 
 At the voice which fate controls, 
 Onward, with determined souls, 
 Column after column rolls, 
 Forward — forward — 
 Forward — forward — 
 Forward to the fight ! 
 
 See, they to the charge advance ; 
 See as either column wheels, 
 Every foe before them reels — 
 Hark ! the mighty chorus peals — 
 
 " The Emperor I the Emperor ! 
 The Emperor and France ! " 
 
 Hark ! the thunders nearer draw ! 
 Dripping with a thousand gashes, 
 To his chief a hero dashes, 
 Triumph from his features flashes — 
 " Victory ! Victory ! 
 
 Victory — hurrah I" 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 207 
 
 See the chief with kind endeavour 
 Lifts the foe that sought his fate, 
 Mercy smihng upon hate ! 
 Hail to liim, the good and great ! 
 Napoleon ! Napolewi ! 
 
 Napoleon forever ! 
 
 f -^ MY PRETTY BIRDS. 
 
 My pretty birds, as sweet your song, 
 
 And of as blithesome kind, 
 As when you winged your flight along 
 
 By but the skies confined ; 
 Though severed from your native bowers, 
 
 And caged in narrow space, 
 As gay ye carol through your hours 
 
 As in your native place. 
 
 And grateful to the tender hand 
 
 That watches o'er your need. 
 Your little hearts with love expand, 
 
 While from that hand ye feed ; 
 And this is well — ye need not mourn 
 
 The scenes that ye have lost, 
 For there the pangs ye might have borne 
 
 Of famine or of frost. 
 
208 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 But man less wise — restrained from ill 
 
 By the Almighty's bars, 
 The rage to have his erring will 
 
 His spirit's music jars. 
 My birds, my sweet philosophers,. 
 
 May I your wisdom learn, 
 And welcoming what God confers. 
 
 To His protection turn. 
 
 BRIDAL SONG. 
 
 FROM THE GERMAN. 
 
 With the hood of thy mother 
 
 Bedeck thee, fair maiden, 
 And put on her ribbons 
 
 Thy tresses to braiden ; 
 With the fillet of care, 
 
 And the bandage of duty 
 Encircle, fair maiden, 
 
 The brow of thy beauty. 
 And weep not, oh weep not 
 
 In thy bridal array ! 
 Thou wilt weep all thy life 
 
 If thou weepest to-day. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS 209 
 
 In the seat of thy mother 
 
 Be seated, fair maiden, 
 And walk in her footsteps, 
 
 With blessings beladen. 
 Nay, why shouldst thou weep 
 
 In the moment of gladness, 
 Look up to thy lover. 
 
 And banish thy sadness ; 
 Oh chase from thy beauty 
 
 The shadows away. 
 And smile all thy life 
 
 As thou smilest to-day ! 
 
 WEDDED LOVE. 
 
 I may not call to grandeur's halt 
 
 The lady of my heart ; 
 I have not power or wealthy dower 
 
 My true love to impart ; 
 I bid her from a sphere to come 
 
 That far is mine above ; 
 Yet shall not this impair the bliss. 
 
 That hails our wedded lov» 
 
 17* 
 
210 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS; 
 
 She will not grieve a home to leave 
 
 Magnificent in pride, 
 In lonely cot to share my lot, 
 
 Obscurely there to hide ; 
 Though desolate of friend or mate, 
 
 Save me and God above, 
 Yet shall not this impair the bliss- 
 
 That hails our wedded love. 
 
 She has been nurst among the first 
 
 And proudest of the land, 
 Where from her head all danger fled, 
 
 At fortune's magic wand : 
 But ill my bower in stormy hour 
 
 Can shield my gentle dove ; 
 Yet shall not this impair the bliss 
 
 That hails our wedded love. 
 
 I every day a tender lay 
 
 Shall waken to her name. 
 And every night to throne of might 
 
 Shall kneel to bless the same ; 
 For years and years, through smiles and tears,^ 
 
 I'll prize her all above ; 
 And well shall this insure the bliss 
 
 That hails our wedded love. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS 211 
 
 A THOUGHT OF THE PAST. 
 
 The steed and hi5 rider 
 
 Are crumbled to dust ; 
 The bride and the bridegroom 
 
 Are gone — as we must — 
 The castle has fallen — 
 
 Its place is unknown— 
 And the house that we live in 
 
 Shall leave not a stone. 
 
 Armies and nations 
 
 To ruin are hurl'd ; 
 Victors and vanquish'd 
 
 Are swept from the world ; 
 Like the leaves of the forest, 
 
 Forgotten they fall — 
 What leaflet can murmur 
 
 At fariner as all ? 
 
 REST, BABY, REST ! 
 
 Rest, baby, rest ! rest, baby, rest ! 
 Thy pillow is a mother's breast, 
 Which heaves and falls with throbs of joy 
 Beneath thy cherub head, my boy ! 
 Upon the heart that loves thee best, 
 Rest, baby, rest ! rest, baby, rest ! 
 
212 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Sleep, baby, sleep ! sleep, baby, sleep ! 
 And closer to thy shelter creep ; 
 Thy cradle is a motha^'s heart — 
 Watch'd by a mother's eyes thou art, 
 Which could for very fondness weep — 
 Sleep, baby, sleep ! sleep, baby, sleep ! 
 
 My boy ! my own and only boy ! 
 Thy father's pride ! thy mother's joy ! 
 May God thy future being keep 
 As sinless as thy infant sleep ! 
 May dreams as pure thy life employ, 
 My boy, my bright and blessed boy ! 
 
 ON THE DEATH OF MY DOG BOZ. 
 
 Since nothing dies but something mourns, 
 Poor Boz ! I well may mourn for thee. 
 
 Nor heed the stoic pride that scorns 
 Affection*s tear of sympathy. 
 
 And while upon the turf I tread 
 
 , With which thy mangled relics blend, 
 
 I feel as if it might be said, 
 
 Here sleeps my best and truest friend ! 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS 213 
 
 For when on all thy love and truth, 
 
 Docility and zeal I dwell, 
 I cannot help but ask, in sooth. 
 
 What human heart has loved so well ? 
 
 And can it be ! but yesterday 
 
 A thing of life in every limb. 
 Now scudding o'er the fields in play, 
 
 Now dashing in the waves to swim ; 
 
 Or crouching at thy master's feet 
 
 With look of grave intelligence, 
 His every word and glance to meet 
 
 With fond, though silent eloquence ; 
 
 Or rising in thy honest pride, 
 
 With gnashing teeth, and eyes of flame. 
 To battle at thy master's side 
 
 If near a doubtful stranger came. 
 
 And can it be that thou art dead ! 
 
 It warns me all must life resign — 
 Oh, may as fervent tears be shed 
 
 Upon my grave, as fall on thine ! 
 
214 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 A CHRISTMAS GREETING. 
 
 A merry, merry christmas ! 
 
 Hark to the song of earth ! 
 Fain would I swell the chorus 
 
 Though mine no heart for mirth ; 
 But to thy presence, lady, 
 
 I come, thy joy to share, 
 And in the light of beauty 
 
 Forget the clouds of care. 
 
 A merry, merry christmas ! 
 
 It surely shall be thine, 
 For peace and joy are angels 
 
 That wait on virtue's shrine ; 
 Their smile shall never brighten 
 
 The sinner's troubled breast. 
 But they shall bless thee, lady. 
 
 For innocence is blest ! 
 
 A merry, merry christmas I 
 
 And may thy cloudless heart 
 Receive the same enjoyment 
 
 It can to mine impart ! 
 Thy voice in witching sweetness 
 
 To other hearts can wind, 
 But it is mine to treasure 
 
 The music of thy mind ! 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 216 
 
 THE FLOWER OF LOVE. 
 
 That we for riper years should stay, 
 
 Though coldly thou declarest, 
 I tell thee, in the bloom of May 
 
 The flower of love is fairest. 
 All who have loved must know the truth 
 
 That love with time is flying ; 
 It blooms but in the bloom of youth. 
 
 Its power with beauty dying. 
 To beauty, by her magic strung, 
 
 Love consecrates his lyre, 
 And none, except the fair and young. 
 
 Its accents can inspire. 
 That we for riper years should stay, 
 
 Though coldly thou declarest, 
 I tell thee, in the bloom of May 
 
 The flower of love is fairest ! 
 
 MY LOVE LOVES ME. 
 
 Oh there is a song 
 
 That the young heart sings ! 
 That forth in a fountain 
 
 Of music springs, 
 
216 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 As fresh as the dance 
 Of the streams set free — 
 
 " I love my love, 
 
 And my love loves me !" 
 
 Sweetest and dearest, 
 
 Fondest and best, 
 While with thy presence 
 
 No longer blest, 
 My heart murmurs o'er, 
 
 As it strays to thee, 
 " I love my love, 
 
 And my love loves me !" 
 
 And thou, my beloved, 
 
 When I leave thy sight. 
 It soothes me to think 
 
 That thou wilt delight 
 To murmur the song 
 
 I taught to thee, 
 " I love my love. 
 
 And my love loves me !" 
 
 We heed not the pleasures 
 
 To others known, 
 A better and dearer 
 
 Is ours alone, 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS 217 
 
 To whisper our hearts 
 
 In their secret glee, 
 " 1 love my love, 
 
 And my love loves nie !" 
 
 And oh! when again 
 
 I welcome thy face, 
 When again I clasp thee 
 
 In fond embrace, 
 To me wilt thou whisper, 
 
 And 1 to thee, 
 " I love my lovf, 
 
 And my love loves me !'' 
 
 LINES TO A LITTLE GIRL. 
 
 WRITTtN UNDER A SKETCH OK CHRIST BLESSING CHILDREN 
 
 When children ciimft the Saviour nigh. 
 
 And those around forbade them, 
 " Forbid them not!" was his reply, 
 
 And on his breast he laid them ; 
 He took them in his arms of love,, 
 
 With sacred kiss he prest them. 
 And to his Father's throne above. 
 
 His prayer ascending blest them ! 
 IS 
 
218 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 And thus, my bright-eyed cherub child, 
 
 While fondly I caress thee, 
 I pray that as on them he smiled. 
 
 His smile of love may bless thee ; 
 And when by thine ascending wing 
 
 This world shall be forsaken. 
 To Jesus may Ihy spirit spring. 
 
 And to his breast be taken ! 
 
 TO MIGNGNNE. 
 
 Sweet Mignonne ! thou whose love and truth 
 
 Unchanged through every trial past. 
 From childhood's dawn to noon of youth, 
 
 My best beloved ! my first and last ! 
 At fortune's clouds shall I repine, 
 
 While beams thy love, so sweet a star ? 
 Or for her treasures care, while mine 
 
 Thy heart 1 a treasure dearer far ! 
 
 How often, when my spirit feels 
 The weight of ills too hard to bear, 
 
 Thv dear remembrance on me steals. 
 To save me from my soul's despair ! 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 219 
 
 A ministering angel's part 
 
 Is thine, to pour affection's balm 
 Upon my often wounded heart, 
 
 And all my soul's convulsions calm ! 
 
 How oft in childhood when oppress'd 
 
 Thou found'st me in my hour of pain. 
 Thy hand my throbbing brow caress'd 
 
 Till pleasure thrill'd its every vein ! 
 That touch — it was enough to heal — 
 
 And ever, in my suffering hours, 
 I sigh again that touch to feel 
 
 And bless its sweet and soothing powers. 
 
 All other hope — ail other joy. 
 
 Have fled — no matter — let them go ! 
 But may no power thy love destroy, 
 
 The only comfort 1 may know ! 
 Thy innoc(Mit affection makes 
 
 My all of heaven that earth can give ; 
 And till that love thy heark forsakes, 
 
 I can through every sorrow live! 
 
22) MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 GREATNESS. 
 
 Greatness is only greatness in itself; 
 
 It rests not on externals, nor its wor*h 
 Derives from gorgeous pomp or glittering pelf, 
 
 Or chance of arms, or accident of birth ; 
 It lavs its deep foundations in the soul, 
 
 And piles a tower of virtues to the skies, 
 Around whose pinnacle majestic roll 
 
 The clouds of glory, starred with angel eyes. 
 
 THE END. 
 

 
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