NUGAMENTA;
A BOOK  OF VERSES
BY
GEORGE EDWARD RICE.
" Nos triftia vitae
Solamur cantu."    STATIUS.
"I left no calling for this idle trade,
No duty broke."  POPE.
BOSTON:
J. E. TILTON AND COMPANY.
i860.




Entered according to A6t of Congrefs, in the year 186o,
BY J. E. TILTON AND CO.,
in the Clerk's Office of the Difiri& Court of the Dilridt of
Maffachufetts.
Riverfide, Cambridge:
Printed by H. 0. Houghton & Co.




TO THE MEMORY OF ONE WHOSE GENTLE EYES WILL,
NEVER REST UPON THESE PRINTED PAGES, THEY ARE INSCRIBED, THOUGH ALL UNWORTHY OF THE HONOR, WITH
SENTIMENTS OF AFFECTION AND REGRET THAT LANGUAGE
CANNOT INDICATE NOR TIME DESTROY.
SUICIDE. We regret to learn that Mr. Georg-e
Edward Rice shot himself yesterday in the boardinghouse of Mr. David Ree t0 Roxhury.   Mr.
Rice was well known in the community as a,
graceful poet, and both his serious and humorous
productions have elicited much praise from competent judges. We have not learned the cause of
the act, but suppose it must have been depressioa
of spirits amounting to aberration of mind.




NUGAMENTA. A 1BOOK OF VERSES. By Gao.
EDwAaD  RICE. Bostonl: TILTON &,Co.
Between the highland of poetry and the
prairies of prose lies a middle ground of verse, fit
to be the, chosen home of refined thought and
graceful feeling, but not often very successfully
occupied. There HORACE built his villa; and
there the most charming of the writers to. whomr
France concedes the honors of the muse abide.
Our own English literature is less rich in such
men, partly, perhaps, because the genius -of the
language lends itself less easily to their fine evanescent fancies, partly because the ways and passions of the, race are too positive to give them
much chance for existence. Yet WALLER belongs
to their order, and no salon of Paris ever listened
to a lighter thrumming of the spiritual guitar than
passed from. the facile fingers of PRAND.
In America few have essayed this mid-region of
music and feeling with so much success as Dr.
HOLMES; and now Boston sends us, in the person
of Mr. GRORGE E,. RIcianother New-England candidate for honors which the heirs of the-cavaliers
might have kbeen supposed more likely to grasp
than the sons of the Puritans. Mr. tICsE's?Vugamenta is a book which none but a gentleman
could have written, full of delicate perceptions,
fleeting gleams, and glooms as fleeting, Qaaint conceits and honorable sentiments. They have been
clothed in metre with. no unskillful hand, and the
writer is over-modest when he offers them to the
uncritical reader alone as the possible solace of
worn or weary hours,
_




PREFACE.
THIS Book contains a few pieces of occafional
Verfe, which, without pretenfion to Poetry, the
writer trubts may beguile fome weary moments for
the uncritical reader.
April, i86o.
i6 COURT STREET, BOSTON',.








CONTENTS.
PAGE
The Prophecy...                    9
Fantafia....               6
What Might have Been...                                  24
Ataraxia..                                          27
To Glycera...                  30
Twilight and Moonlight..                  34
Myrrha....   37
At the Firefide...                          39
The Crowning Mercy..  41
Love, Honor, and Glory...              44
To the Night Winds....           45
Stanzas......       47
A Wreath of Smoke.....  49'
Acrofs the Way....      5o
New Year's Eve..       ~      ~.          55
Mifs Sweetbriar's Courtfiip...                    57
To the Big Tree on Bofton Common...   64
A Revifit......      69
To a Claffinate.....          75
A Cour'e of Bark....              79




Viii                    CONTENTS.
To the Mermaid..              89
A Night in the Rural Diftri&s.       94
To a Butterfly at Sea.....00
An Anfwer to an Invitation to Dine..       4
A Charcoal Sketch....                      Io8
The Jilted Knight........ 
Romeo Montague to Juliet Capulet.  Ii6
The Reafon Why.....     I 9
To my Umbrella.. I20
Old Wine in New Bottles...              25
SONNETS.
Like an indulgent mother, Nature ftill.      34
As fome poor captive, prifoned-and enchained.         I35
Without, the tempeft rages, and the winds.            36
I pine and languifh with defire to know..  137
In genial funihine and in ftormy weather..     I38
As fome light bark upon a fummer fea.. 139
There is an Art no penalties engird...     I4
The knell is tolled of all my joyous dreams   o. I4
Advice is wafted both by Sage and Preacher              I42
Is there no balm in Gilead for the mood.. 743
In this delicious filence fo profound  1.  ~            I44
Before my voice is filent with the dead..         I.45
L ENVOI.
My with is granted, if the paffing hour...    46




VERSES.
THE PROPHECY.
PART I.
IF you would hear me fpeak of one who dwelt
In that fair land of Poland, years agone,
And of his fate, fo mournful, - and would hear
Alfo of one whofe love and grief for him
Raifed her from Earth to Heaven - Liften!
There are fuch things, however worldlings fieer,
As love for all mankind, and fympathy
With every fuffering of humanity,As loftinefs of purpofe in a life,As moral grandeur in a death, that crowns
A peerlefs life with an immortal fame, —
As Woman's love, through forrow and diftrefs, —
As truft unfaltering, and as broken hearts.
The moon was flooding with her gentle light
The green and dewy meadow, and fhe made
2




THE PROPHECY.
The night fo calm and lovely, lovelier ftill;
The ftars, o'erpowered by her brighter beams,
Scarce ventured forth, fave here and there a few
That faintly glimmered in the Orient.
Nature feemed tranquil, -not a breeze fwept by'ro bid the lily rear its coronal,
Or wvft its perfume from the violet;
And fave the murmuring of the rivulet,
That, creeping fluggifhly along, illumed
By calm Diana's rays, feemed molten filver,
The filence was unbroken; till a found,
That feemed the meafured tread of warlike men,
Came from a wooded and far-diftant hill;
Nearer it came, and nearer; now the moon
Gleamed on the bayonets, and touched their points
With her pure argent light, and now they came
With flow and fleady Rfep acrofs the plain
Straight to the river's margin. All were armed:Save one, who trod the proudeft and moft firm,'Though he alone of all had nothing more
To hope on earth, - for he had come to die.
His crime was this: He dared to ftand alone
The champion of the Suffering and the Poor;
He thought that human laws might yet be framed
More equal for the Lowly and the Great;
And that God made this fair and beauteous Earth
So beautiful, for all men to enjoy
And walk ere&t thereon in majefly.




THE PROPHECY.                11
They called it Treafon, when he fpake thefe thoughts,
And led him forth upon the plain to die,To die at night, - this calm and lovely night, -
Becaufe beneath God's glorious eye, - the Sun, -
They dared not kill the man the people loved.
Ere&d and unappalled he tfood; his eye,
Bright with the light of genius and of truth,
Undimmed, could face Death's cruel meffengers.
Godlike he feemed in beauty and in mien;
Young, valiant, noble, and yet doomed to die,His purpofe unaccomplithed, and his great
And lofty deftiny yet unfulfilled.
He looked upon the fky, the moon, the fears,
The river and the meadow he muft leave
In one brief moment; and he thought of Him
Who made them all fo grand and beautiful,
And breathed a prayer that he might find at laft
Reft in His kingdom; then he thought of her -
The flower he had worn upon his heart
In all its bloom, its fragrance, and its beauty -
Whofe calm fweet fmile was ever at his hearth,
Whofe life was love and gentlenefs and peace,
And with her name upon his lips he gave
The fatal fignal. Oh, moft worthy he,
Living, to live in fome true woman's eyes,
And, dying, to be buried in her heart 




I2'THE PROPHECY.
A quick, {harp volley, then a heavy fall,
And all was over.
Oh,'twas bravely done 
Io Triumphe!'twas a worthy deed!
Now found the bugle, beat the rattling drum,
And back to whence ye came. Go I leave the corfe,
That held the foul that God is keeping now,
A prey to wolves lefs mercilefs than ye.
PART II.
Alas, how ill news fpeeds! And yet fhe knew,
Ere they had told her, that her Love lay dead!
Between two great and loving hearts the bond
Of fympathy is fuch, though feas divide,
One cannot bleed alone.  She fhed no tear
And made no moan, but fhe arofe and wrapped
Her mantle'round her flender form and fled
Straight to the blood fained fod, - for Love infpired,
And they whom Love infpires can ne'er be wrong.
The moon, that hid her face behind a cloud
And would not fee him die, ihone forth to light her.
Onward ihe came with fwift unrfeady gait,
Springing, then faltering, like a wounded deer; —
Right on fhe fped to his pale corfe, direEt
As fReel flies to the magnet. When ihe faw
The outline of his figure, where he lay




THE PROPHECY.                 I3
As graceful and as beautiful in death
As e'er in life, there rofe one piercing fhriek,
Wild and unearthly, that might rend the iky;
Yet on fhe came.  O God! what human power
Could keep thefe hearts apart! Ah! never yet
Had Love a truer votary than fhe.
She reached the fpot and knelt, - fhe could not
weep, -
Her eyes feemed balls of fire, and her heart,
Throbbing convulfively with painful fobs
All unrelieved by tears, was breaking now.
She wound her arms around his form, and fpake
To him who ne'er before refuted to liften:"Kind friend, fond lover, gentle hufband, fpeak!
It is your Wenda calls. How oft you've faid,
When fitting fide by fide fome fummer's eve,
Your arm around me, that if you were dead
My kifs would roufe you.  There, my fweet Love,
there 
I prefs my lips fo cold to yours ftill colder;
My arms are'round you; are you dead, quite dead?
Is the heart ftilled whereon my head hath lain
So calm and fweetly tranquil, all unmoved
Save by its throbs that fyllabled my name?
My Love, my Life, my Lord, will you not fpeak?
My bofom ever thrilled at your dear voice
Like harpftring to the minflrel's touch. Oh, speak!
My inmoft thoughts were yours, and every wifh




14              THE PROPHECY.
Of my fond heart, and all my Fancy's dreams;
You were my firft, my laft, and only Love,
And all my fpirit was by yours controlled.
And are you dead, my own fweet Love, quite dead?
So good, fo noble, generous, and brave 
You will not fpeak.  I feem of fenfe bereftMy brain is reeling. Hark! I hear a voice
Not yours, my Love. It is the cry of Blood!
For blood unjutlly fked, blood ftill mult anfwer."
Then rofe ihe from his fide, and Btanding forth
Towered a Pythonefs in majetly.
She turned her face towards Warfaw, and ihe raifed
Trembling aloft one finall and Sculptured hand
As white as alabafter, fave a fpot
Made crimfon by a gallant heart's belt blood,
And thus fhe fpake:" Woe to the Capital!
To the Kingdom, woe! I feel the fpirit
Of prophecy is on me. Woe to Poland!
A century fhall pafs, then there fhall be
The Ruffian in your homes. I hear the thriek
Of dying viAims, and I fee the light
Of blazing roofs.  Woe to fair Poland, woe!
This noble blood fhall be avenged in time."
Then fell fhe on the corfe, and there fhe lay,
Her breaking heart againlt his broken one,
Murmuring fo gently, -" Let me die with him




THE PROPHECY.                 15
I loved fo much!  0 Father, let me die!"
And God was merciful and heard her prayer.
A century has paffed, and that fair land
Is known no more'mid nations of the world.
The Ruffian at their hearths and in their halls
Now reigns fupreme, yet Nature is the fame;
The meadow ftill is fair, the moon beams bright,
The rivulet creeps by, and nought feems changed,
Unlefs, perchance, one bank of violets
Is of a brighter and a lovelier hue
And yields a fweeter perfume, for it grows
Above two noble hearts, and there for aye
The moon fhall beam, the rivulet creep by.




FANTASIA.
WHEN I, in melancholy mood,
By real or by fancied griefs opprefi,
Sigh but for peace and long to be at reft,
I find it good
Alone to wander
Far from the crowded mart and walks of trade,
Where foot of man hath feldom trod,
And there in folitude and filence ponder
On all the works of a moft bounteous God.
I feek Sometimes the Foref fihade;
To the fad mufic of the Pines I liften,
And watch the wild wood flowers,
With hues made brighter by the grateful fhowers,
Wave in the wind and in the funlight glifien;
Or by the margin of the boundlefs fea,
The fhore my couch, the Heaven my canopy,
Reclining on the fand I lie
To hearken to the ripple's mournful tune,
Or by the filvery radiance of the moon
To mark the gorgeous pomp and splendors of the
fky.




FANTASIA.                  17
While ftraying thus one day
From all the haunts of men
Far, very far away,
To greet the breezes from acrofs the lea,
I came upon a fmall and lovely glen
Where grew the Jafmine and the Violet,
The fpicy Pink, the fragrant Mignonette,
And fweet Anemone;
And in that lonely fpot,
With Woodbine covered o'er,
Stood a fequeftered cot.
Wearied and faint, and tired of meditation,
I hailed with joy this human habitation,
And at the cottage door
I faw a man with flowing filvery hair
Who beckoned me to come, and placed a chair
And afked me to partake his fimple fare.
Refreihed with food and wine,
I thanked this hoft of mine;
And when I rofe, my foofteps to retrace,
Sadly the old man fighed,
And the big tears came ftreaming down his face.
c" You've been by forrow tried,Tell me your tale," I cried,
" Why by this defolate fhore,
Hearing the wind's fad moan




I 8               FANTASIA.
And the deep ocean's roar,
You dwell remote, untended, and alone."
Sadly he gazed on the glorious fea,
And this was the tale as he told it to me:"' Long, long ago in years gone by,
Ere forrow ftruck me with a fatal dart,
And Life was bright and hopes were high,
I wooed and won the Idol of my heart.
" In this little cot lived we,
That gentle girl and I,
As happy as we could be.
Week after week flew by,
Flew by my Love and me,
And month came in and month paffed out,
But we heeded not what the months were aboui
So pleafantly lived we
By the fide of the founding fea.
"' Happy beyond humanity's lot
Were we in this defolate fpot,
For fwiftly and joyoufly paffed the time
While we read volumes of quaint old rhyme
Sung by the Poets whofe wonderful art
Quickens the throbs of a Nation's heart,
And thofe enchanting tales of Fairy land




FANTASIA.                 19
That erft had charmed us in our childhood's hours;
And then, with hand in hand,
Or with my arm around her flender waift,
Happy to be thus placed,
We wandered o'er the fields and plucked the flowers.
"Thofe days have flown, - I can but fay IWoe's
me!'
And think how blithe were we;
Unmindful that calamity might come;
That we might live and love no more
In our fmall cot, betide this rocky fhore,
That made fo dear a home.
We could not fancy as the years flew by, -
Flew by on angel's pinions,That any clouds could darken our bright fky;
That aught could dim the luftre of an eye
Or caufe one tearful figh
In Love's dominions.
" How oft at eve, along the rocks, we ftrolled
To hear the ocean's roar
And watch the waves, as one by one they rolled
Up the refounding fhore!
And as we recognized the mighty hand
Of Him who made the fea, the iky, the land,
We felt our fouls expand,
And loved each other more
Than e'er we loved before.




20                FANTASIA.
"So love went on increafing day by day,
And three years paffed away;
No happier hours were ever known than we
Enjoyed in this fmall cot betide the deep blue fea.
"One fearful night,
When the ftorm was abroad in all its might,
Reading I fat alone
Hearing the moan
Of the fierce tempeft, and the ocean's roar,
And by our cottage door
Swept the great angry waves with many a groan
And many a difmal wail;
Frequent the lightning's flafh,
Frequent the fudden cramh,
That told of fome great tree laid profrate by the gale.
" She in the funfhine of whofe fmile I lived,
In winning whom Life's purpofe feemed to end;
Who never, while I loved her, could have grieved,My better angel and unchanging friend, -
Had feen the heavy clouds around us lower
And fought her chamber at the twilight hour;
But when the ftorm rofe high
And raged with violence fo fuperhuman
I wifhed to join her, - for, when danger's nigh,'Tis thought a gentle woman
Feels lefs inquietude and fear,
If by her fide is one to whom fhe's dear,



FANTASIA.                  2 I
So I the half-read book
Returned to its accurlomed nook
And fought the chamber where I thought there lay
All that my God had given, —all he could take away.
" Softly I opened the unfaflened door;
She who remembered every facred duty,
In all her innocence and beauty,
Was kneeling on the floor.
I knew her prayer afcended,
Meekly, fincerely,
For him fhe loved fo dearly,
And, ere'that prayer was ended,
For me to enter there
Would have profaned the air
Made holy by her prayer.
I could but worfhip her,A faintlike woman who could never err,So ftainlefs and fo fair.
"s When her fond prayer was faid
She raifed her queenlike head
And turned on me her gentle eyes
XVTith a faint fmile of fweet furprifG.
Forth from the threfhold of the door
I sprang to raife her from the floor,
But ere my extended arms
Could clafp her graceful charms




22                FANTASIA.
A fudden, dazzling glare
Lightened the murky air,
And on the floor fhe lay;
Without a figh or groan
Her foul had paffed away
And I was left - alone!
" Stilled is the heart that folely beat for me
Three happy years befide the deep blue fea;
The gentle eyes are clofed
That ihone fo brightly when I fang their praifes,
And o'er the bofom where my head repofed
Grow now the violets and dailies.
There, in her favorite dell,
Where the oft wandered when the Morn was breaking,
She fleeps the fleep that knows no waking,
Surrounded by the flowers The loved in life fo well.
"Long years have fled fince then,
And Time has bowed my head and blanched my hair,
While I, remote from men,
Have paffed my days in ftudy and in prayer.
Here in this fpot made holy by her death
Will I yield up my breath,
And while I live my life ihall be
Kept facred to her memory.




FANTASIA.                  23'Tis good to bear the Crofs,
And if my grievous lofs
To me is fantified,
And I, by fore affliftion tried,
From all my earthly taints
And fins am purified,
In manfions of the Juft,
Beyond the fky, I trufi
To meet her with the Saints."
The fun had tinged the weftern wave with glory,
The twilight had crept on me, and the pall
Of Night had flowly fettled over all,
The while I liftened to this tearful flory;
Then through the air I heard a diftant bell
That pierced my foul like a funereal knell,
And I aroufed me and my footfteps bent
Homeward in ferious and thoughtful mood,
With all mny feelings chaftened and fubdued,
On the philofophy of dreams intent.




WHAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN.
"For of all fad words of tongue or pen,
The faddeft are thefe, -' It might have been."'
WHITTIER.
WHAT lies in the ihadowy Future, alas!
Never falls within a blind Mortal's ken;
We cannot forefee what will come to pafs,
But we know too furely what might have been;
Fulfilment of hopes that our fanguine youth
Thought fimply awaited that we fhould be men
And could buckle our armor on for the Truth
Are among all the things that might have been.
II.
Like miff in the morn fled the rofeate hue
Everything wore in that cloudless day
When hearts beat gayly, for Life was new
And flowers feemed Scattered all over our way;
We thought the time of our triumph fo proud
Would come and denote us victorious men,
Now namelefs we ftruggle amid the crowd
And bitterly think of what might have been.




WHAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN.            25
III.
Sorrow is fruitlefs, -Regret is vain,Experience teaches but little to man;
We fhould negledt our chances again,
Though we now know Something of Nature's
plan;
We talk of the blind undifcerning Age
That hailed us not as the coming men,
Hiftory opened a virgin page
To receive our names, - did we feize the pen?
IV.
Ah, no! we balked and dreamed in the fun
While opportunities rare went by,
We awoke to find that nothing was done,
Then fat us down in the dupf to figh;
We grieve, when we are alone to blame,
We, the vainglorious, cowardly men, -
Not having conquered a wreath from Fame,
It is idle to prate of what might have been.
V.
But yet to us all'tis the folace left,
When difappointment has marked our way,
Being of hope for the Future bereft,
To fpeak of the hope of a former day;
3




26        WHAT MIGHT HAVE BEEN.
Not having been to our Miffion true, —
And heaven ordains to the leafi of men
Manifold duties that he fhould do,
We love to talk of what might have been.
VI.
I might have roamed over this world fo wide,
In happinefs fuch as ne'er mortal knew,
I as your guard, and you as my guide,
In fearch for the Beautiful, Pure, and True;
I might have won an undying fame,
That would live in the hearts of my fellow-men,
And have made you proud that you bore my name:
All there are things that might have been.
VII.
My youth was tinged with a golden hue,
By the fond illufion that you were mine,
That I fhould prove my pafflion was true,
By a life's devotion through ftorm and fhine.
We might have been happy - but let that pafs,
For naught betides that we hoped for then, -
You are fleeping under the waving grafs,
And I live but to think of what might have been.




ATARAXIA.
WHEN I am all aweary of the ftrife,
The turmoil and the reftleffnefs of life,
And can no longer bear my unquiet heart
By cares and fears diftreft,
But need the folace and the balm of reft,
I leave the town with all its bufy hum
And feek the country and its folitude;
Here to thefe fields I come,
And need no Teacher with his formal art
To prove that man is nought and God is good, -
No voice can fpeak like Nature's to my heart; -
In every leaf and bud and flower I fee
How great His power, and feel how weak are we;.
And as betide this violet bank I lie
Marking the ftream glide by
With fteady ceafelefs flow,
Myfelf I fcarcely know;
I am no longer he who came
In fierce defpairing mood
With all his brain aflame,
But I am tranquil, quiet, and fubdued




28               ATARAXIA.
For as the ftream flows onward to the fea,
With gentle murmur foothing my fad foul,
It bears my gloomy thoughts far, far from me,
And off my heart the heavy ihadows roll.
And while befide this river's brink
I lie ouftretched, I think
How true it is we fuffer not alone, —
Of griefs we know our own,
But be he friend or brother
We know not all the forrows of another;
And fome who a& a cheerful part
Have fome great hidden grief
From which there's no efcape — to which there's
no relief,
That like a vulture rends the bleeding heart,
Who yet will not complain,
And ne'er betray,
Coil what the ftruggle may,
By any outward fign, the inward pain.
It is the inevitable law
That man is born to trouble and to forrow,
And uncomplaining he ihould bear the crofs,
For if each to-morrow
Brings not the folace that we hope to-day,
Nor makes atonement for fome bitter lofs,
It fets us farther on our onward way,




ATARAXIA.                  29
And leaves us nearer to that pleafant flore
Where care and- grief can trouble us no more.
Then whatfoe'er the Fates decree,
It ftill fhall be
The contfant burden of my prayer and fong
That I may have the power
In fern Misfortune's hour,
To fuffer and yet evermore be efrong.




TO GLYCERA.
AFTER fo long a thraldom, to be free,
Is happinefs fupreme.  I once fuppofedi
My pulfe could never throb, except for thee;
Thou wert my heart's true Queen, but now, depofed
By thy rebellious fubje&6, who at laft
Brooks not the Tyrant. Go, thy reign is paft 
II.
Though all is over, and'twere worfe than idle
The afhes of this buried love to raife, —
Yet thoughts come thronging, and I cannot bridle
The tongue that fang fo often in thy praife;
The World was all forgotten for thy fake;
And I muft fpeak, or my full heart will break.
III.
The recolleaction of the days now fled,
When all my thoughts were trufted to thy care,



TO GLYCERA.                31
When I fill followed where thy footireps led,
And deemed it happinefs thy griefs to fhare, —
Shall, in the filent night, come back to thee,
And fill thy faddened heart with dreams of me.
IV.
And I, alas! mufr think and figh the while,
How, overcoming all my manhood's pride,
I hailed the funihine of thy glorious fmile,
And knew no pain, but abfence from thy fide;
Apart from thee, this loving heart of mine
Throbbed the dull moments till my lips met thine, -
V.
And then my blood, with lava-flowing tide,
Courting tumultuous through each fwelling vein,
Swept like a torrent down the mountain fide,
Straight to my burning foul and maddening brain;
And in thofe hours of terrible unreft,
I told the love that raged within my breaft.
VI.
Thy lips refponded, and my joyous heart
Leaped like a courfer, as he nears the goal;
My reafon fled, o'ercome by Beauty's Art,
And I was thine at hazard of my foul.
Nay, fpeak not'! I have known by far too well,
Thy voice's mufic, and its magic fpell.




32               TO GLYCERA.
VII.
But now, when Reafon reafferts her fway,
I feel that Life hath nobler ends than Love,
The fond ambitious dreams of Boyhood's day
Return, as to the Ark the wandering dove;
Hard is the ftruggle, but I rend thy chain,
And ftand ere6t. I am a man again!
VIII.
Enfranchifed now, no more my fteps fhall ftray
To thine abode.  We part at length forever!
I ne'er will let thy Siren voice effay
To lure me back again. I fwear, that never
Will I behold thee, left thy charms ihould move
My lips to flatter, and my foul to love.
IX.
No more in trembling accents will I fue,
Or gather bloffoms to bedeck thy head;
The Paffion that I nurfed until it grew
Stronger than Reafon, now is cold and dead,
And cold and dead to thee fhall be the heart
Once fo controlled by thy transcendent Art.
x.
I grieve for mine own weaknefs; I repine
At moments loft in gazing on thy face;




TO GLYCERA.                 33
I have regained my heart, that long was thine,
By one fProng manly effort, and no trace
Of all my fond affeEion ihall be feen;
I will not be the flave that I have been.
XI.
We part! Farewell! I never can forget
What it were better could Oblivion fhroud;
But will not paufe to tell one fad regret;
I'll breathe a figh, then onward with the crowd.
Is that a tear? My ftruggles are in vain;
See, Love, I'm kneeling at thy feet again!




TWILIGHT AND MOONLIGHT.
TWILIGHT.'rHE twilight with its miftinefs and gloom
Over the peopled city flowly falls,
While I am fitting in my lonely room
Watching the fhadows deepening on the walls.
Let me not think of vifions that have pai, -
Of hopes of Fame, - of fiern demands of duty, -
Of Boyhood's dreams too fanciful to laft, -
I'll take the hour to fing of Love and Beauty.
II.
But ere the Lyre yields to my careffing,
Sweet ftrains of mufic float upon the air,
A gentle hand is on my fhoulder prefling,
I turn and fee an angel by my chair.
" From yon blue Heaven," ihe fays, " I guard and
cherifh
All thofe who ftrive to win the I oet's crown,
Be not enflaved by Beauty or you perifh
And fall from Godlike heights ignobly down."




TWILIGHT AND MOONLIGHT.            35
III.
I dare to anfwer, and with accents trembling
Exclaim, c Let Fame depart, I'll not repine;
When Beauty finiles, my heart knows no diffembling,
And what were Glory to a Love like mine! "
" Alas," fhe fays, "C Has Reafon then no chance?
Lifi to her clarion voice for one brief minute;"
" Hold! hold! " I cry, " I'll break her fhining lance,
For what is Love if there is Reafon in it? "
IV.
Again ihe fpeaks, but now with exultation,
" Your heart, I find, is in the right condition;'Tis Love that gives'the Poet inspiration,
And power to fulfil his lofty million;
Love on,-'twill keep the heart forever young,
Hymn Beauty's praifes wherefoe'er you're roving,
The noblefc fongs by Poet ever fung
Were fung by him who knew the pains of loving."
MOONLIGHT.
V.
And now Diana, from her throne on high, -
That virgin huntrefs with the filver bow,




36)       TWILIGHT AND MOONLIGHT.
Becomes each moment brighter in the fky,
And fheds her gentle light on all below;
And through each pane within my cafement ftreaming,
My room fhe lightens with her beams divine,
It is the hour when a Poet's dreaming
Is woven into verfe, and this is mine.




Aft fe~~plBP`~ eB efePM  tP    Cheeps    a e.  t
MYRRHA.
"She came in all her Beauty, like the moon from the cloud
of the Eaft. Lovelinefs was around her as light.  Her Reps
were like the mufic of fongs."              OSSIAN.
MY Fancy now has talked her utmoft ikill,
And called before me an entrancing vifion
To foothe my heart, to charm away each ill,
And lap me in a happinefs Elyfian;
II.
For I difcern acrofs the moonbeams flitting
A fylphlike form of excellence moft rare,
And now around the couch whereon I'm fitting
She floats in all her beauty through the air.
III,
I know within that form reigns Myrrha's heart,
To none but her fuch fabled charms are given;
Nature, for once, has far exceeded Art,
And fent her as a perfet work from Heaven.




38                 MYRRHA.
IV.
I feize the Lyre, - in vain I firive to fing
The love my tongue to her would fain exprefs,
Her name alone breathes forth from every ftring, —
My Art is conquered by her lovelinefs.
V.
The {Irength, that I had vainly deemed my ftay,
Melts like the fnow before her Beauty's light,Her charms divine ufurp my mind by day,
And break repofe with reflefs dreams by night.
VI.
In ftore for me are many dreary hours,
But, Myrrha, there are none for one fo fair;
Thy path fhall be enamelled o'er with flowers,The Beautiful are God's efpecial care.




AT THE FIRESIDE.
COME, dearefi, ere they light the evening lamps,
And fit with me and gaze upon the fire.
I like to watch the dying embers fade;
Thup let my arm encircle thee; — now reft
AgainPf my fhoulder thy dear queenlike head,
And I will tell thee how my wayward Life
Was unfulfill'd until I won thy love;
For my fad foul was like the wandering dove
Sent from the Ark, that found no refiing place;
Or like fome rudderlefs and fhattered Bark
Forfaken on a wild tempefruous fea,
Drifting its aimlefs courfe from point to point,
Fixed to no purpofe.  There were few to fmile
And bid God fpeed me on my onward courfe.
Life had for me nor objet, end, nor aim;
All noble aspirations, high refolves
And fond ambitious dreams had fled. I feized
The flowery wreath that fmiling Pleafure held,
And liifened to her Siren voice, nor ftrove
To loofe the arms fhe flung around my neck;
But all was Vanity,- and I grew weary




40             AT THE FIRESIDE.
Of this fad world of trouble, pain, and guilt.
Dark was my foul, but when the light of thine
Shone on me, I arofe like fome way-worn,
Benighted traveller, who perceives that Day
Is breaking in the Eaft, and ftruggles on
To greet the uprifing Sun. Before thy beams,
The clouds disperfed, and life again feemed bright.
Taught by thy grand example then I learned
How dear and pleafant are the ways of Truth.
I ftrove to walk within her peaceful paths,
And Thou wert my exceeding great reward.
a e




THE CROWNING MERCY.
FILL up the cup, my Beauty, fill up,
We've a long way to travel before we can fup;
Your blue eyes are bright, and would they might light:
The dangerous path we muft travel to-night;
Charlie has fled, there's a price on his head,
And many a gallant at Worcefter lies dead.
II.
If the cropheads advance, we fhall forfeit the chance
To efcape from thefe fhores to luxurious France;
Yet here we'll remain for a moment to drain
A flagon and fing a wild cavalier ftrain;
Ere to faddle we fpring thefe rafters ihall ring
With death to Old Noll and long life to the King.
III.
Many times by the fide of Rupert, our pride,
Have I had the honor in battle to ride;
In Marfion Moor's fray, throughout all the day,
I ne'er from the found of his voice was away;
4




42          THE CROWNING MERCY.
At Nafeby's fight, I rode clofe to his right,
And helped him efcape by the fhade of the night.
IV.
But never, I ween, has fuch carnage been feen
In thefe wars as at Worcefter to-day there has been;
Through the gates, which they crafhed, the Puritans
dafhed,
And bright in the funlight their morions flafhed;
Thus taken by florm, our troops couldn't form,
And the hand-to-hand confide was bloody and warm.
V.
No mufic I hear is fo fweet to my ear
As the din of the conteft when weapons ring clear;
Our good fwords were tough, our greeting was rough,
And with crimfon we dyed many jerkins of buff;
Fierce battle we gave all the day, and the wave
Of Severn flowed red with the blood of the brave.
VI.
It was war to the knife, and through the hot ftrife
Each Cavalier knew that he fought for his life;
How fweet were the moans and the fhrieks and the
groans
Of the knaves that our chargers' hoofs trod to the
ftones;
By Jove!'twas a fight, as to left and to right
We cut and we flafhed through that terrible fight.




THE CROWNING MERCY.             43
VII.
By Charlie we flood while it did any good;
But, when he had fled, we efcaped as we could;
The Country is loft, - this we know to our col},And the boisterous channel to-night mufi be crot;
For fuccefs to our trip, pray give me a fip
Of the gliftening dew on that red pouting lip.
VIII.
With fuch a fweet kifs, as that one and this,
My fortune to-day has not been fo amifs;
Feel no alarm for that wound on my arm,
The fafh you tied over it adts like a charm;
But fill up the cup, my Beauty, fill up,
"hen, Comrades, to horfe,'tis in France we muft:
fup.




LOVE, HONOR, AND GLORY.
LIKE a dying old Giant the wind howled and moaned,
And ihook with great fury the fafies,
In fadnefs of heart by the fire I groaned,
And traced out her face in the afhes;
The days of bright hopes like a dream had paffed by,
And Life feemed a very dull ftory,
But I thought of the time when my pulfes beat high
And I fighed for Love, Honor, and Glory.
II.
The fire at aift went entirely out,
And the candles, but I never miffed them;
For Sleep on her pinions came flying about,
And ilooped down to my eyelids and kiffed
them;
Forgot for the time was each fear and each doubt, —
Forgot each disheartening ftory, -
Forgot every grief, - and my heart became itout,
For I dreamed of Love, Honor, and Glory.




TO THE NIGHT WINDS.
GENTLE winds, ye have come over mountain and
dale,
Ye have fwept o'er the ocean and killed the white
fail;
Ye have entered the chamber and gazed on the
flumbers
Of her who is ever the theme of my numbers;
Ye have lingered awhile where my Charmer repofes,
To breathe on her cheek, —that abode of the
rofes;
Ye have preffed for a moment that delicate lip,
Where the bees of Hymettus their honey might
tip;
Ye have hovered enraptured around her fweet
bofom,
More fragrant than dew on the Hyacinth's bloffom;
And as with remembrance of her ye come freighted,
My heart that was fad becomes ftrangely elated;
Ye can mark her repofe in this defolate hour,
For ye enter unheeded, where none have the power;
Then feek her again, in her home by the fea,




46           TO THE NIGHT WINDS.
And bear to her bedfide this meffage from me.
Go! tell her my heart, that has loved her in gladnefs,
Would be fonder and truer in forrow and fadnefs;
And through the wide world (he may roam nor difcover
So truthful a friend and fo faithful a lover.
Alas, this is idle! Fate's cruel decree
Forbids that her love (hould emparadife me;
But who can reitore me my heart as fhe found it,
Or my foul difenthrall from the fpell caft around it?
And when the time comes that forbids all diffembling,When darknefs furrounds, and Life's taper is trembling,
I will breathe her dear name as my forrows are ending,
And then my fad foul to its Heaven ascending
Shall bear a fond prayer to the Powers fupernal,
That her life, like my love, may be pure and eternal.
And when o'er my afhes the lilies are blooming,
The air that floats over me fweetly perfuming,
Ye will paufe by the fpot where in peace I am lying,
Unheeding the world and its fmiling or fighing,
And will mark that whenever the feeling fweeps o'er
her,
That I died, as I always had lived, her adorer,
She comes and bedews, as a forrowful duty,
The flowers that cannot furpafs her in beauty.




STANZAS.'TIs evening, and the moon above
Doth glorioufly fhine;
And to the health of her I love
I drink this ruby wine.
II.
A thoufand leagues my heart returns,
Far, far acrofs the brine,
To her for whom my fpirit yearns,
To whom I drink this wine.
III.
Her figure, graceful as the fawn,
And flender as the vine
From which the cluttering grapes were torn
To make this glorious wine,
IV.
Would gain new ftrength, could fhe but print
Her foot betide the Rhine,




48                 STANZAS.
And her pale cheek would wear a tint
Tranfcending this red wine.
V.
The moon would have a fofter charm,
A light ftill more divine,
If fhe were leaning on my arm
To whom I drink this wine.
VI.
If there is virtue in a prayer
That flows from lips of mine,
Her life ihall be the Angels care,
Her happinefs divine.




A WREATH  OF SMOKE.
WHEN clouds, o'ercharged with care and grief,
Seem gathering around,'Tis in the rolled tobacco leaf
That folace can be found;
With every puff there fades away
Some true or fancied forrow,
And I am happy for the day,
Whate'er betide the morrow.
II.
The graceful wreaths of fmoke I blow,
To yon blue Heavens afcend,
I blefs each one, as off they go,
Like fome departing friend;
And wifh that I could foar above,
Or had, like them, the power
To charm away from thofe I love
Each fad and dreary hour.




ACROSS THE WAY.
I.
THHE moon is filvering old Park-Street fteeple,
Likewife the trees,
And fleep is creeping o'er the Bofton people
By flow degrees.
II.
I throw my cafement open wide, and wheel
My eafy-chair
To face the fireet, that I may breathe and feel
The cool night air.
III.
And while reclining here I mufe and ponder
On life's decay,
A light illuminates a chamber yonder
Acrofs the way.
IV.
And as the tongue of midnight tells the hour
From fireet to fireet,




ACROSS THE WAY.               51
I fee upon the threfhold of her bower
So pure and fweet,
V.
A Beauty ftanding, with a form excelling
All dreams of Art,
And feel a wonderful emotion fwelling
My throbbing heart.
VI.
How gracefully fhe fets the flickering candle
Upon the floor,
The while fhe turns the little ivory handle
And bolts the door.
VII.
Then to the cafement hafzily advances
That charming maid;
For one brief moment at the fky fhe glances,
Then pulls the fhade.
VIII.
Ah! will the {hut out this extremely fine,
Clear night of June?
Yes! {he unmafks not beauty fo divine
E'en to the moon.




52             ACROSS THE WAY.
IX,
But think not, dear, your movements are unknown,
For, by the aid
Of Fancy, and the fhadow that is thrown
Upon the ihade,
X.
I feel,- and either were a faithful guide, -
Extremely certain
Of all that happens on the other fide
Of that thick curtain.
XI.
Now of your taifeful garments you're diveiting
tIoft gracefully,
To make yourfelf look fill more interefting
In " robe de nuit."
XII.
Acrofs the room I fee your form fo fair
Pafs and repafs,
And now you're hfanding taking down your hair
Before the glafs.
XIII.
That hair abundant, whofe rich golden curls
Delight beholders,




ACROSS THE WAY.               53
Loofed from confinement by a few quick twirls
Falls down your ihoulders, -
XIV.
Shoulders as fragrant as the airs about
The funny South, —
Now, darling, take thofe pins diredcly out
Of your fweet mouth.
xV.
You leave the glafs abruptly, and I find
That all is Pfill;
How fweet your pretty face muft lobk behind
That fnowy frill.
XVI.
And now you read a verfe of fome fweet Poet
You think divine,
Tranfported would I be, could I but know it
Were verfe of mine.
XVII.
And now upon the cufhion by the chair
Your figure bends,
And from your lips a pure and heartfelt prayer
To Heaven afcends.




54            ACROSS THE WAY.
XVIII.
" Nymph, in thy orifons be all my fins
Remembered " now,
And give one thought to me ere fleep begins
rTo touch your brow.
XIX.
So all is dark and quiet, you have juft
Put out the light;
Sleep, fleep protedted by the Heaven you truf!
Fair Saint, - Good night.




NEW YEAR'S EVE.
OLD Father Time with glafs in hand
And fcythe acrofs his fhoulder,
Is by my fide reminding me
That I am'growing older;
And fadly fays the kind old man,
In accents foft and clear,
" My hour-glafs I foon fhall turn,
Then vanifhes the year."
II.
So from this long and graceful jar
I pour the fragrant wine,
And, when old Time turns up his glafs,
I'll do the fame to mine,
And drink to all upon the land,
And all upon the fea,
And figh the while I bid Farewell
To Eighteen Fifty-Three.




56             NEW  YEAR'S EVE.
III.
I'll grieve not for deceitful friends
Whofe falfenefs I've detedted,
But drink to thofe exalted hearts
I never have fufpedced,
Who changing not with every turn
Of Fortune's tipfy wheel,
Are ever grappled to my foul
With hooks'of triple freel.
IV.
I'll drink to her who does not fcorn
My rude unpolifhed verfe,
Whofe love would be a talifman
Though all' the world fhould curfe,
And who would fmile upon the chain
With which I'd gladly bind her,
I'll drink to her with all my heart,
And love her, - when I find her.




MISS SWEETBRIAR'S COURTSHIP.
A BALLAD.
THERE flood, when happened fome fummers ago
The events of the following ftory,
A large flone hotel, as many folks know,
At the end of Nahant's promontory;
And when they couldn't endure the heat,
Then all the world and its daughter,
Some of whom are "elite," but fome very effete,
Would ftart for the falt fea-water.
II.
What bevies of feminine beauties rare,
Such as feen in a poet's dream are,
Going down to Nahant for the bracing air,
Have I met in that little fteamer;
And I thought it aware of its precious freight
And endowed with human fenfation,
For every plank feemed very elate
And gave an extra vibration.
5




58       MISS SWEETBRIAR S COURTSHIP.
Now of all the charmers who vifited there,
To look at the broad Atlantic,
A few years fince, was one who was fair,
Surpaffingly fair and romantic;
But as the ftory that I fhall tell
Is a very veracious hiftory,
The name of " la plus belle des belles"
Muft remain forever a myftery.
IV.
Yet as names are very convenient things
To the poet who ftrikes his lyre,
And deeds of lovers and heroes fings,
I fhall call her Mifs Jane Sweetbriar;
And this you will underftand to be
But a fanciful appellation,
For her real name wouldn't be breathed by me
On any confideration.
V.
Now Jane Sweetbriar, - with her mamma,Was the very earlieft comer,
For the rooms were engaged by her dear papa
Throughout the entire fummer;
But'twas during the month of the fultry air,
When the fiery dog-ftar rages,




MISS SWEETBRIAR S COURTSHIP.         59
That occurred and tranfpired the little affair
I relate in the following pages.
VI.
Mifs Jane Sweetbriar was always told
By her mother and other relations
She was deftined to make, in the world fo cold,
The greateft of all fenfations;
That her father was wealthy, and fhe was fair,
And by nature defigned to wed
A reigning prince, - or the fon and heir
Who'd be prince when his father was dead.
VII.
Now as this was inftilled from her earlieft youth,
Of courfe fhe grew very inflated,
Believing it all to be gofpel truth,
And her princely lover awaited;
And though gentlemen very well born and bred,
Accomplifhed, refined, and clever,
Were attentive, fhe bridled her haughty head
And diffinfdly faid, 1s No, Sir, never."
VIII.
Then men began to keep very aloof,
As the vulgar would fay, " fight thy,"
For they never will woo when there's pretty good
proof
It ifn't of ufe to try.




60       MISS SWEETBRIAR S COURTSHIP.
And I heard full many a perfon fay,
Who of charity hadn't a particle,
That her market fhe'd certainly overftay
And become a fhop-worn article.
IX.
But one Auguft day by the boat there came,
To adorn the hotel fociety,
A fhort young man with a very long name
Who was dreffed with extreme propriety,
And as he danced fo exceedingly well,
And fang to the ladies, divinely,
And was quite an agreeable fea-fhore fwell,
He got on, of courfe, quite finely.
X.
But that he might be the better received
By the girls, he to fome confided
That he was a Duke, which they all believed,
But I will be blefi if I did,
For I moft audacioufly dared furmife
That his Grace was an imposition,
But angry glances from beautiful eyes
Frowned on the foul fufpicion.
XI.
Now femalp artillery brought to bear,
Opened at once their fire,




MISS SWEETBRIAR S COURTSHIP.         6I
And the Duke foon fell at the exquifite pair
Of feet of Mifs Jane Sweetbriar;
And Jane was as pleafant as fhe could be,
And put on her airs and graces,
And it wafn't a difficult thing to fee
She was going through all her paces.
XII.
And if any one afked where fhe could be found,
They'd fay, "That foreigner has her,
Conftantly walking her'round and around
The ladies' upper piazza."
Ah, me! If every balcony rail
Had the means of communication,
How many a foft and tender tale
It could tell of each fweet flirtation.
XIII.
Jane's delicate blood the Duke would ftir,
As he'd tell, in his manner romantic,
Of the " Chateau in Spain " that was ready for her
Juft over the briny Atlantic.
And then he'd defcribe the magnificent fpot
That was fo like a fairy fcene,
Juft as mendacious Claude Melnotte
Ufed to talk to the filly Pauline.




62      MISS SWEETBRIAR S COURTSHIP.
XIV.
And now one evening after tea,
As they fat in their room together,
Did Jane and her darling mother agree
That the Duke had views, but whether'Twere beft to content at once, or defer,
WVas a matter for confultation,
And mamma told Jane it was left to her,
After ferious converfation.
XV,.
Then Jane faid, "Mother, I'm twenty-three,
And no prince has come hither to wed,
And I think on the whole it were better for me'ro put up with a Duke inftead."
And fo'twas decided. The following day
The rumor abroad was carried
That Jane Sweetbriar was "fiancee"
To the Duke, and would foon be married.
XVI.
Then how important the family grew,
And evinced an increased gentility,
Which proved that they were poffeffing a true
Republican love for nobility;




MISS SWEETBRIAR'S COURTSHIP.        63
And even papa declared that he
From trade would at once retire,
When on a ducal family tree
Was engrafted a fair Sweetbriar.
XVII.
It foon turned out that this elegant Duke,
(Oh, Jane, what a fad difafter!)
At a New York Inn was affiftant cook,
And had robbed and fled from his malter.
Now this employed the goffips awhile,
And I fancied that I detedted
Many a very triumphant fmile
On the faces of Jane's reje6ted.
XVIII.
To hear the remarks and perceive the fneers
Of her friends, was, of courfe, unpleafant,
So the went abroad to remain for years,
And there the refides at prefent;
And doubtless noblemen mark her way,
And on Love's fleet wings purfue her,
But {he'll never forget till her dying day
The counterfeit Duke, —her wooer.




TO THE BIG TREE ON BOSTON COMMON.
WHEN firft from Mother Earth you fprung,
Ere Puritans had come among
The favages to loofe each tongue
In pfalms and prayers,
Thefe " Forty Acres, more or lefs,"
Now putting on their fiimmer drefs,
Were but a " howling wildernefs"
Of wolves and bears.
II.
Moft wondrous changes you have feen
Since you put forth your primal green
And tender fhoot;
Three hundred years your life has fpanned,
Yet calm, ferene, erect you ftand,
Of great renown throughout the land,
Though fhowing marks of Time's hard hand
From crown to root.




TO THE BIG TREE ON BOSTON COMMON.  65
III.
You, when a flender fapling, faw
The perfecuted reach this ihore
And in their turn
Treat others juft as they'd been treated;
To mete the meafure that's been meted,
How man does yearn.
Iv.
Of tales, perchance devoid of truth,
With which they would in early youth
My heart appall,
Was one the goflips ufed to tell
About a witch: fo grim and fell
They hung on you for raifing- Well,
It wafn't Saul.
V.
Since you beheld the light of day
A race has nearly palfed away, —
A warlike nation,
Who oft with fire-water plied
Loft all their bravery and pride
And yielded to the rapid ftride
Of annexation.




66  TO THE BIG TREE ON BOSTON COMMON.
VI.
Behold, a mightier race appears
And high a valf Republic rears
Her giant features,
And weftward ifeadily we drive
The few poor Indian who furvive
And barely keep the race alive,Degenerate creatures!
VII.
For, are we not the mighty Lords
And Mafiers of all favage hordes
(In our opinion)?
And when we with Inferiors deal
Do not we ufe the iron heel
And make them wince and writhe and feel
Their Lords' dominion?
VIII.
You heard the firif rebellious hum
Of voices, and the fife and drum
Of revolution;
And heard the bells and welkin ring
When they threw off old George the King
And thereby gained a better thing, -
Our Conflitution.




TO THE BIG TREE ON BOSTON COMMON.  67
IX.
And you ftill thrive and live to fee
The country prosperous and free,
In fpite of all
The very fage prognoftications
Of prophets in exalted ftations
Who could foretell the fate of Nations,
And faid fhe'd fall.
x.
Majeftic Tree, you've feen much worth
From little Bofton iffue forth,
And many men,
Who love their kind and give their ftore
To help the fiiffering and the Poor; —
Heaven blefs their wealth and grant them more,
I pray again.
XI.
And you fhall fee much more befide
Ere to your root, old Bofton's pride,
The axe is laid;
And long,. I truft, the time will be
Ere Mayor and Council fit on thee
And find with unanimity
That you're decayed.




68  TO THE BIG TREE ON BOSTON COMMON.
XII.
For you are ftill quite hale and ftanch
Though here and there perchance a branch
Is flightly rotten,
And you will itand and hold your fway
When he who pens this rhyme to-day
Shall mingle with the common clay
And be forgotten.




A REVISIT.
ONE bright and charming day lafi Fall
Some miles of ground I wandered over
And climbed o'er many a fence and wall
In the purfuit of quail- and plover;
But all my toil was vain and fruitlefs,
My fowling-piece not once I fired,
The expedition proved quite bootlefs,
And I became extremely tired.
II.
The day declined, - the Sun was fetting,
As is its cuftom, in the Wefr,
And I, this world of care forgetting,
Reclined beneath a tree to refr;
But ere my drowfy fenfes failed me
A ftalwart farmer I defcried,
Who from his market-wagon hailed me,
And afked me if I'd like to ride.




70                A REVISIT.
III.
" I live in Guilford, next to Stow,
You'll fee it from the hill quite plain,
I'll drive you there and you can go
To Bofton in the evening train."
So, thankful for the invitation
That honeft Rufticus had offered,
I left my graffy fituation
And took the feat fo kindly proffered.
IV.
" So, that is Guilford, - I am glad
To fee the place; I well remember
I paffed fome months there when a lad,
Blefs me, the tenth of next November
Will make juft twenty years fince I
Went there a graceless little fcholar
(Alas! How quickly'Fime flips by!)
In corduroys and ruffled collar.
V.
"I boarded with old Parfon Short,
Whofe dwelling flood befide the hill."
" The Parfon's houfe I've lately bought."
" Indeed! is he not living ftill? "




A REVISIT.                  7 1
" You might have known he'd go at length
The way of finner and of faint.
At Eighty-five he loft his ftrength,
Then died, Sir, of his old complaint."
VI.
" Though crofs, he was the beft of men,
And I'll not let his faults outlive him,
He'll never box my ears again
And fo I cordially forgive him
And truft that'mid the flars and faints
He now partakes celeftial joys,
Relieved of all his bad complaints,
The afthma, and unruly boys.
VII.
" And where is white-haired Dr. Sloat?
With venerable locks of fnow;
He ufed to make my boyifh throat
A channel for Elixir Pro.
I think I fee his little fhop,His bookcafe, with its queer old fixtures
And ftuff'd gray owl upon the top
That feemed to guard the pills and mixtures.
VIII.
"The map of Europe on the wall,
The grinning fkull upon the fhelf;




72                A REVISIT.
His patients, - did he kill them all?"
" He did, and then he killed himfelf,
For feeling out of forts one day
He took his celebrated pill,
Then died, and fince, I'm glad to fay
We haven't had a perfon ill."
IX.
" Ah! There's the pond I ufed to fwim in,
And gather fragrant water-lilies
To give the fweeteft of young women,
Who lived near where the cider-mill is.
Yes! fhe my very earliefi flame was,
(At ten Love's very hard to fmother,)
Matilda Jane her charming name was, -
She's now a wife, I truft, and mother."
x.
Our drives, like all drives, had an end,
We reached the parfonage at laft;
" Alas i" faid I, " my worthy friend,
This fets me thinking of the PafT;
I recolledt the fpot right well,
The very woodpile feems the fame;
And there's my chamber in the L,
To which no funbeams ever came.




A REVISIT.                 73
XI.
"C The venerable tree that bore
Thofe pears fo puckery and hard,
Is flanding, as it did of yore,
Right in the middle of the yard;
And there's the church,-  I fee the vane
Is pointing ftill to fou'-fou'-weft;
It always did, - but why complain
Of aught that does its very beft?"
XII.
I'll take a feat on yonder wall
The while I'm waiting for the train,
My bygone joys and griefs recall,
And live my boyhood o'er again;
But flay i if life I've found is not
Juft what my youthful fancy painted,
And I revifit this old fpot
With care and forrow well acquainted,
XIII.
And if no gentle heart is near me,
Beating refponfive to my own,
To aid, to counfel, and to cheer me,
But I Life's battle fight alone;
Why fhould I rend the veil apart
That keeps the Paft from coming o'er me,
6




74                 A REVISIT.
To caft a fhadow on my heart,
When I've the Future all before me?"
XIV.
There ftill are prizes worth the ftrife,
And Fame and Honor to the gainer;
The foul that takes fad-views of life
Should let this wholefome truth fuftain her;
My heart, lefs buoyant than of yore,
Still afks of Fortune profperous breezes,
I've pufhed my fhallop from the fhore,
Its fate to be what Heaven pleafes.
UG(3C




TO A CLASSMATE.
"We have heard the chimes at midnight."
HENRY IV., SECOND PART.
OLD times come o'er me, and I fain would hear
Something of one my heart holds ever dear,
Whether he's living;
Oh, can it be that he I love has gone'Whence there is no return, to that long bourn?
I've my mifgiving.
II.
So now, my friend, for want of Something better,
I'll fend this very fhort and rhyming letter,
To afcertain
If you ftill live, and recolled the chimes
5We've heard at midnight.  Thofe delightful times
Come not again
III.
And how ofttimes to Fancy's realms we'd mount,
And drink deep draughts - from the Pierian fount,
To baniih cares;




76             TO A CLASSMATE.
Then bivalve broils that marred the night's repofe,
And then the larks, — I mean with which we rofe
In time for prayers!
IV.
Our clafs is fcattered. Some by trade have thriven
And fome have laid their treafure up in heaven,
(A fafe inveftment,)
And there are fome the young idea who teach,
And fome who pradtife, fome who only preach,
But here's no jeft meant.
V.
Some live in town, their quiet way purfuing,
Who would be pleafed to hear what you are doing,
And how you are;
So write us word, in profe, or woo the Mufe;
That you do either well, whene'er you choofe,
We're quite aware.
VI.
How are your talents?  Have they run to wafte?
Do you frill write, or have you loft your tafte
For the poetic?
Are you religious? Have you joined the church?
And have you found, or are you ftill in fearch
Of the AEfthetic?




TO A CLASSMATE.                77
VII.
Do you find aught that gives you fatisfadtion?
Does life prefent to you the fame attraction
It did "lang fyne?"
Or have your hopes of winning fame and glory,
And being widely known, in fong and flory
Vanifhed, like mine?
VIII.
Unlefs you've fadly changed, I know you've gained
The peace that's purchafed by a life unflained,
Upright and moral;
More fatisfadtory than vulgar praife,
And better, nobler far, than poets' bays,
Or heroes' laurel.
IX.
Write ame and tell me how you pafs the time,
In your delightful and far-difiant clime
Of fruits and flowers.
But ere I clofe, perhaps you'd like to know
Of forne with whom you paffed, a while ago,
Such pleafant hours.
x.
Well; Kate Pfili plays her tinkling guitar,
And fits and gazes at that favorite ftar
She named for you,




78             TO A CLASSMATE.
And fighs and languifhes, and rolls her eye;
She thinks you're coming back! (At one time I
Believed that true.)
XI.
And as for Caroline, fhe took offence,
Merely becaufe I faid fhe wanted fenfe
So we don't fpeak.
Poor little Sue, with whom you ufed to ride,
Laft June was married; and the darling died
Within a week!
XII.
How could you find it in your heart to leave her!
She was a fplendid girl; in faEt, I never
Have feen a finer.
Her fifter Jane-whom, doubtlefs, you rememberMarried a miffionary, laft November,
And went to China.
XIII.
And now, farewell! - my horfe is at the door;
I'm for a ride, and therefore can't fay more.
I really mifs you,
And mean to write again, fome future day,
But now I've merely time enough to fay,
God blefs you.




A COURSE OF BARK.
OF Peter Van Duyfen, a Dutchman by birth,
But a toper by habit and tanner by trade,
TWho for many a year but encumbered the earth,
Yet at laft of the Church was an ornament made,
Whofe true reformation
And regeneration
So ftruck with furprife every friend and relation,
Aftonifhed his neighbors, delighted his wife,
(Who had long felt aggrieved by his diffolute life):
And the caufe of his fudden return to the fold,
Of which the particulars never were told,
And have hitherto been fo enveloped in myftery,
The beneficent mufe
Will no longer refufe
To relate the authentic and wonderful hiftory.
Now, Peter perceived not the fhame and difgrace
Of a thicknefs of fpeech and a rubicund face,
And the name he had gained of "a very hard cafe;"
And the deeper he drank
The more deeply he fank,
Till his body was nought but an alcohol tank.




80            A COURSE OF BARK.
The day had long paffed fince he offered his reafons
For confPant libations, at all times and feafons;
And though fuch apologies feldom are found,
Nor fupported by reafoning very profound,
Yet I never would fneer at them,
Laugh at or jeer at them,
Or hurl an exprefiion uncommonly queer at them,
For they prove that their maker, is fully awake
To the faet that he runs'gainft the views of fociety,
And feels himfelf called on excufes to make,
Juft to fhow he's not loft to all fenfe of propriety.
Mr. A. takes a drop for a pain in his head,
And he thinks it will cure him without any queftion; 
Mr. B. drinks becaufe he has oft heard it Laid
A little good brandy affifts the digeRtion;
Mr. C. will remark he's been ill for a week;
Mr. D. has a very bad pain in his cheek;
Mr. E. fears the falad may poffibly hurt him;
Mr. F. has the blues, and he drinks to divert him;
The powerful argument offered by G.,
Is that, much to his joy, he has lately been told
Hot whifky and water is good for a cold;
And fo it goes on down to X., Y., and Z.
The reafons for what a man wifhes to do,
Though oftentimes weak, yet are never a few.




A COURSE OF BARK.               81
I once knew a man fo addicted to grog
That he'd drink till his fenfes were loft in a fog,
Becaufe he'd been working, he faid, like a dog.
I prefunie that the meaning he wifihed to convey
Was, of courfe, that he'd been working hard all the
day;
But, as far as my own fmall experience goes,
The work that all thofe that belong to the race
Called canine, perform, is, in fome funny place,
(Forever preferring the large cellar-doors,)
With their jaws foftly cufhioned on both their forepaws,
To fniff off the flies as they light on their nofe,
And I always opined
He was that way inclined,
For, though earneftly feeking, I never could find,
That fcience or art or religion or trade
Had ever derived the leaft poffible aid
From any exertion he ever had made.
N. vi_ I advocate always excefive fobriety,
Th.,j lgh I never have joined a tee-total fociety,
And might not fay nay,
On a very hot day,
To a very large goblet of champagne "frappe,"
Regardlefs of all Mrs. Grundy might fay,
And provided, of courfe, there was nothing to pay;
Yet,'tis better to keep from temptation away,




82            A COURSE OF BARK.
For I learned when a lad, in a fchool of defign,
What a very hard matter is drawing a line.
But it feems, while I pen this irregular metre,
That I'm faying uncommonly little of Peter.
So, without more ado, I will briefly relate
His narrow efcape froim  a danger he ran,
By which he was faved from a terrible fate,
And inftantly made a refpeftable man.
Though Peter, I've faid, was a tanner by trade,
Yet a fortune by tanning he never had made —
For bufinefs of any kind needs attention,
A fadf it is never amifs to mention,; —
And his cuftomers fled from him, one after one,
When they found that his work was moll wretchedly
done,
And faw what a rig he was trying to run.
Then he'd nothing to do, yet for fpirits he'd fpend,
And foon discovered, with many regrets,
That liquor will never liqui-date debts,
And his courfe muft fpeedily come to an end.
His creditors clamored for their demands,
And his tannery foon paffed out of his hands;
With the brindle dog he was forced to part,
Which touched, though it didn't renew, his heart.
His wife worked on in grief and pain,
That her child ihouldn't cry for bread in vain;




A COURSE OF BARK.               83
And fhe frruggled and hoped, as women will,
While Peter fank lower and lower frill;
Soliciting alms of each paffer-by,
Drinking throughout the day his fill,
And lodging at night in the nearefrt fy.
If I picture him truly, you'll fay I draw
As wretched a being as ever you faw.
But ftill, in the midfr of his downward courfe,
Would arife a feeling of deep remorfe,
That would lead him oft in forrow at night -
When ghofrs and goblins gibber and moan,
Who are never beheld by the morning lightTo vifit the tannery once his own;
And one ftormy night, as he rcaggered along,
Meandering the hides and the vats among,
While the wind blew high and the night was dark,
There came a guft that took off his hat;
He tried to catch it, but reeled and fell,
And down he went with a fearful yell,
Tumbling headlong into a vat,
There to go through with a courSe of bark.
Down he went, and he fplaflled and fpluttered,
And fierce were the cries that the vi6{im uttered;
But fruitlefs all, - there was no one near,
Not a human being with ears to hear,
And a heart to feel, and a rope to throw;
Yet, had there been, I can fcarcely tell,




84           A COURSE OF BARK.
(For what others will do no one can know,)
If they wouldn't have thought it jult as well,
And have left him to tan with the hides below.
Then Peter's agony foon began,
For his paft career appeared before him,
And he knew himfelf a detelfed man,
And that none would in the leall deplore him
He knew repentance was all too late,
That he foon mufl yield to impending fate,
Down, down to fink, and there to flay,
Till fome, Heaven knows how dilcant, day,
When they'd find him tanned in the ufual way
Then how they'd laugh, and fpeculate whether
He'd make on the whole a durable leather,
And load him with well-deferved abufe,
And fay that for once they'd make him of ufe,
And then into foles they'd cut up his body,
So well preferved by the tan and the toddy.
But while this ruffied acrofs his brain,
He twice went down and rofe again;
And now his ltrength was failing faft,
And weaker grew each vain endeavorOne bubbling fhriek - it was the lall
Of Peter, who then fank forever, —
Or would, had not that deathly cry
Struck on the ear of a paffer-by,




A COURSE OF BARK.                85
In the fhape of the fame intelligent brute
That Peter had owned in his beft eftate;
And now of his kindnefs he reaped the fruit,
By being faved from a fearful fate;
For this mofi grateful of brindled Towzers,
With a bound, and a dafh,
And a howl, and a fplafh,
Jumped into the vat, as quick as a flafh,
And faftened his jaws in a leg of his trowfers.
Ah i how one's experience conflantly teaches
What many a ftern and cold moralift preaches,
That Gilead poffeffes for all men a balm,
And a form is a certain forerunner of calm,
And when all things appear
MoRf dark, cheerlefs, and drear,
That circumfance proves that the daylight is near;
For, when grief and defpondency wholly enflave us,
And fad the forebodings and fears of the heart,
When it feems as if nought from defruAion could
fave us,
And the laft rays of hope in the darknefs depart,
Unlooked-for affiftance will raife and affuage us,
Although adventitious, yet moft advantageous.
But the courfe of events to delay by reflefdions,
In a writer of tales, is the worft of objeations;
And I think I fhall run little hazard in frating,




86            A COURSE OF BARK.
That when fuch a perfon abandons narrating,
And takes in its fRead both to profing and prating,
He's a bore of a fize that there's no overrating;
And one's hero to leave at a critical time
Should be reckoned by readers not lefs than a crime;
And I ought to have laid
That Peter, half-dead,
Was refcued when hope had entirely fled,
And have told you at once how his canine preserver,
By tugging with dog-gednefs, vigor, and fervor,
Through the darknefs a guide,
Brought him clofe to the fide
Of the vat, where a rope had been recently tied.
If a man when he's drowning will catch at a ftraw,
Why, of courfe, he will catch at a rope all the more;
So Peter itruck out, and at laft made a grafp
At the rope, and held on with the mufcular clafp
Of a man who is jut at his very laft gafp;
And there he hung for the reft of the night,
Till the morning broke with its ftreaks of light,
When feveral workmen, who happened to pafs,
Saved both of the brutes from their perilous ftate,
And they carried Peter right out of the gate,
Acrofs the road to a field of grafs,
And there they punched him, and rolled him over;
And you'll not deny when I venture to ftate
That, though in the grafs, yet he wafn't in clover;
But fuccefs attended the operation,




A COURSE OF BARK.                87
And reftored the fufpended animation,
By bringing on the proper pulfation;
And he came to himfelf, and then went to his wife,
A different man for the reft of his life.
No mufe of mine poffeffes the art
To tell in any poetical ftrain
Of the rapture pervading a woman's heart,
Whatever her rank and worldly ftation,
WVhen fhe finds that her prayers were not made in
vain,
For of joy that feems a foretafte of Heaven
A true portrayal can never be given,
But muff ever be left to imagination.
I fear I'm tedious, fo I'll briefly fay,
That Peter lived from that eventful day -
Or night- an honeft, prudent, upright man
And many a long-loft friend of old
Held forth his hand when he was told,
That for the future Peter had a plan.
By toil and prudence, and fome flight afliftance,
He, ftep by ftep, regained the ground he'd loft.
To all temptation he made fierce refiftance,
Thinking experience was not worth its coft.
Now firft at meeting, loudeft in the prayer,
You'd fcarce fuppofe he'd e'er from virtue drifted;




88            A COURSE OF BARK.
And many a perfon I have heard declare,
That in exhorting he feemed truly gifted.
Soon fortune fmiled, for vice was at an end,
And though'twas humble, he adorned his fiation;
To all good projeds was a zealous friend,
And gave his fon a liberal education;
And oft in after years, when old and fat,
The village boys at eve would clufter round him,
To hear him tell the ftory of the Vat,
And how poor dead and buried Towzer found him.
Perchance the precepts that he threw around
Did not fall profitlefs on barren ground.




TO THE MERMAID.
"Thou comeit in filch a queflionable fhape
That I will fpeak to thee."
HAMLET.
MYSTERIOUS HYBRID! Near the Fejee Ifles
You were entrapped, they fay, one Summer's eve,
When, unfufpicious of the feaman's wiles,
You fweetly fung, (but this I can't believe,)
With execution that outrivalled GRISI,
Arias from operas by no means eafy.
II.
Strange denizen of fomewhere in the deep,
You come to us fo very well preserved
That we might, think you in the tranquil fleep
Your innocence and beauty well deferved,
Although your graceful figure's quite ere&E;
For what from Mermaids could we not expet?
III.
But there's no power now in your dark eyes
To look with fcorn upon the dandy's fuit,
7




90             TO THE MERMAID.
You anfwer not to beauty's finiles and fighs 
Then muft that heart be ftilled, that tongue be
mute;
And this glafs cafe, excluding you from air,
Proves the fad fadt that life is abfent there.
IV.
I promifed me a very pleafant tafk,
And hoped to pafs the evening tete-d-tete;
Trhere's many a queftion that I wifihed to afk,
Concerning all the cuftoms of your ftate;
I'm getting up a book, and looked to you
For ftores of information ftrange and new.
V.
I wifhed to know if Mermaids had a king,
Or chofe a prefident each year or two, -
Had ftringent laws, for that's the fort of thing
To make the populace their duty do;
Or lived together in a crazed community,
Where each did as he lifted, with impunity 
VI.
And all that happens in thofe coral groves
That you inhabit in the realms below;
If you write tender veifes to your loves,
If there's a place where naughty Mermaids go,



TO THE MERMAID.                91
If you have ledtures in the Winter fea fon, -
And if your Poets write both rhyme and reafon?
VII.
If you have Mermaid lawyers and divines,
And if the lafi fay everything is vanity;
Whether you Speculate in copper mines,
And are not Mermaids fubjeat to infanity;
If pure falt water's all you have to drink,
And if your tails don't Sometimes get a kink?
VIII.
Fond of the water you muft furely be,
But do you have regattas every year?
And do you navigate the briny fea
In fea-weed barks, - or ufe your tails to fleer
Some fcooped-out tortoife fhells from grot to grot;
And is there any one who owns a yacht?
IX.
Are any of the Mermaids politicians?
Do they fulfil each promife to the letter?
And do you find, if you employ phyficians,
That of their fluff the lefs you take the better
Your health becomes? In faEt, I'm very fure
You muft be patrons of the " Water Cure."




92            TO THE MERMAID.
X.
Do you prohibit fmoking in the ftreets?
Do you confine the voting to the males?
What is the Salutation when one meets
Another Mermaid? Do you fhake your tails?
Is charity much prafdifed in the fea,
Or do you fancy fcandal with your tea?
XI.
Have you the Magazines and the Reviews?
Do any of your fpinfters have the vapors?
How foon do you obtain the freamer's news?
And pray, do all the Mermaids take the papers?
Do your young men do military duty?
And what's the Standard market-price of putty?
XII.
But this is ufelefs, - the grim tyrant, Death,
Has placed his icy hand upon your brow;
Had I been near, to catch your parting breath,
(It's very fafe for me to fay fo, now,)
I might have gained a mafs of information
That now is loft to me and to the nation.
XIII.
I grieve to think fome infidels there be
Who fmile in fcorn whene'er your name they hear,




TO THE MERMAID.                 93
Make it a point to difbelieve in thee,
And dare to fpeak with fupercilious fneer,
Who fay you are a wondrous incongruity,
A fpecimen of Yankee ingenuity.
XIV.
As for myfelf, I'm willing to believe
In all that travellers delight to tell;
I think the mefmerizers don't deceive,
I frown on thofe who fay that you're a " fell;
I think all the magicians fuperhuman,
And will believe the Giantefs a woman.
XV.
I place a truft in the Aerial Ship,
My love for the Hydrarchos is quite fervent,
I've cruifed about our coaft to get a peep
At my much flighted friend, the great Sea Serpent.
A man can't put himfelf to nobler ufes
Than taking fides with thofe the world abufes.
XVI.
And now, farewell! There's more that I could fay,
For my regard becomes each moment ftronger,
But I'll poitpone it for fome other day;
This won't be read, if it is any longer;
You'll triumph yet, defpite the fceptic's laugh,
Marvellous fpecimen of half and half!




A NIGHT IN THE RURAL DISTRICTS.
HOW THE WRITER PLAYED THE FRIEND OF HUMANITY, -
THE RESULT OF THE SAME, AND AN INSTRUCTIVE MORAL
DEDUCED THEREFROM.
IT was a drear December night,
My duties were performed,The Chairman, as he paid my fee,
Remarked how hard it flormed;
Perhaps he thought the leAure poorOr, didn't think at all,
Or didn't care what might that night
The leAurer befall;
I afked him where the Tavern was, -
He pointed down the ftreet,
So Tavernward I bent my freps
And faced the cutting fleet.
"What ho, within there, Houfe! I fay!
Oh, blefs your fcraggy head!
Grim Boniface, and give to me
This flormy night a bed! "
He faintly fmiled and faid to me
He'd do the beft he could,




A NIGHT IN THE RURAL DISTRICTS.   95
While I, as faintly fmiling back,
Replied, I hoped he would.
"I think," faid he, "I have a room
That has a bed to fpare;"
" Enough," faid I, " my wearied frame
Is anxious to be there."
He led the way, - I followed him
To -I forget the number;
Two beds were there, in one I faw
A traveller in flumber.
Five minutes later, and difrobed
And gazing at the ceiling,
I felt the charms of drowfinefs
O'er all my fenfes ftealing;
But when 1" the early village " clock
Announced that it was four,
I was awakened by a yawn
That founded like a roar,
I flily cafi my eyes about
And faw my unknown friend
In very flim apparel, and
A-fitting up on end;
He rubbed his eyes, he Scratched his nofe,
He liftened to the ftorm,
His teeth they chattered in his head
As if he waffi't warm;
And while I lay and looked at him,
I wondered more and more,




96    A NIGHT IN THE RURAL DISTRICTSo
And faw him glance towards my bed
And ftep upon the floor,
Then hurry on his clothes and tie
His tippet round his throat,
And put his head infide his hat
And button up his coat,
Then walk up to the glafs and take
His razor in his hand,
The while on every pore of mine
Did watery globules ftand;
I thought he meant to kill me, and
Made ready for a fpring,
But it feems he wafn't thinking
Of any fuch a thing,
For he put it in his carpet-bag
And flowly turned the key,
And as he drew it from the lock
He looked again at me;
And then the fole hypothefis
By which thefe movements myftic
I could explain, was that the man
Had turns fomnambuliftic.
My kindly feelings rofe at this,
Thought I, this lucklefs ftranger
I muft obferve, to fee that he
Comes not to any danger;
He took his carpet-bag and left
And foftly clofed the door, —




A NIGHT IN THE RURAL DISTRICTS.   97
One inflant, and I flood ere&t
In middle of the floor,
Then dreffed myfelf with greater fpeed
Than ever yet did mortal,
And feized my hat, crept down the flairs,
And iffued from the portal;
I faw him crofs a turnip-field
And then the turnpike take,
And as I thought he was afleep,
I followed in his wake;
I wondered where he meant to go,
And fancied, with a Ihiver,
His obje6t was to drown himfelf
On coming to the river;
But no; he fafely croffed the bridge,
While I crept clofe behind,
Prepared to feize him if he feemed
To fuicide inclined;
He then pufhed on to where there ftood
A little way-fide inn,
And there he knocked until he woke
The bar-keeper within;
I, looking through the window-panes,
DiftinEtly faw him take
A glafs of fomething hot and fProng
As if he were awake;
Then out he came and on he fped,
In feeming defperation,




98    A NIGHT IN THE RURAL DISTRICTS.
For three long miles until he reached
A lonefome railway itation;
The truth flafhed out, - he meant to throw
Himfelf acrofs the track,
And fo Humanity forbade
My longer holding back,
And as the day was breaking fall
I felt a trifle bolder,
So walked up to the wretched man
And flapped him on the fhoulder;
He turned on me moft tiger-like
And faid, " Confound your eyes!
Jufi you be careful how you take
A fellow by furprife."
I flammered out - becaufe the cafe
Admitted no diffemblingThat I had followed him for miles
With all my members trembling,
For fear left into danger's jaws
He might perchance be brought
While he was walking in his fleep,
As I fincerely thought.
He looked at me from head to foot,
Then fneeringly he faid,
" You're either drunk or cracked or elfe
The fools are not all dead."
And thus for merely yielding to
The dicdates of humanity,




A NIGHT IN THE RURAL DISTRICTS.    99
I was accufed of drunkennefs,
Of folly, and infanity;
A leffion then and there was taught,To mind my own affairs,
And in fpite of all temptations
To let other folks mind theirs.




TO A BUTTERFLY AT SEA.
I.'Tis very kind, though vafily queer,
That you fhould call to fee me here,
And I'll addrefs you;
For though I cannot underfiand
How you came out fo far from land,
And you'll not tell, yet there's my hand,
I greet and blefs you!
II.
But fhould as foon expe&t to fee
Mofs-rofe-buds on the main croff-tree;
(Ah, how I'd pet them!)
Or'round about the capftan's foot
A bed of violets taking root,
And telling me, although they're mute,
Not to forget them! -
III.
Or in the fhadow of the fail
A lily lifting up her pale
And lovely face,




TO A BUTTERFLY AT SEA.            101
As on the ratlines to efpy
A gay and brilliant butterfly,
Seeking in vain, with anxious eye,
One flowery place.
IV.
Sail on with us, -there's no objeStion,
And you can truft in my protection,
For you're to me
Suggeftive of green fields and flowers,
Woodbine and honeyfuckle bowers,
And call to mind delightful hours,
Of which, when fadnefs overpowers,
I think at fea.
V.
The pantry-door fihall ne'er be clofed,
And not a wifh fhall be oppofed,
If you'll remain.
The fugar-bowl"ihall yield its fweets,
We'll give you fome luxurious treats,
And ope our many potted meats,
And beft champagne.
VI.
Go, range the cabin through and through,
And truft me when I fwear to you,
As I'm a finner,




102       TO A BUTTERFLY AT SEA.
That, fhould the fteward thwart your wifihes,
I'll break his head with his own difhes,
And hurl his carcafs to the fiihes,
For dinner.
VII.
You heed me not; and now you're gone,
To tempt the mighty deep alone
And unprotected.
No! One who hears the raven's cry,
And marks each fparrow fall and die,
Watches o'er all with fleeplefs eye
And even a fitnple butterfly
Is not neglected.
VIII.
And he the rhymefter, who to-day
Has wooed you in an idle lay,
Is but like you
A wanderer acrofs the feas,
And dreams away thefe days of eafe,
Entranced with idle fantafies,
Sweet, though ufntrue.
IX.
And though to ferious contemplation,
And calm and pious meditation,
Too oft a ftranger,




TO A BUTTERFLY AT SEA.           103
Knows that the ftrong, proteding arm,
That can fubdue the fiercefi ftorm,
Is thrown around his powerlefs form,
In time of danger.




AN ANSWER TO AN  INVITATION  TO DINE
"cui corpus porrigitur."
VIRGIL.
I'VE juft received your invitation
To a rare banquet, thus you'clept it,
And much regret my fituation
Is fuch that I cannot accept it;
No dining out is there for me now,
My illnefs is sufficient reafon;
And could you but look in you'd fee now
That I am laid up for a feafon.
II.
In payment for my fins I've caught a
Diftrefling cold, and am in bed,
With napkins wet with rum and water
Twifted around my aching head.
It feems as if that namelefs Gent.,
With cloven foot and fable coat,
On my annihilation bent,
Had fixed his talons in my throat.




AN ANSWER TO AN INVITATION TO DINE,. 105
III.
My voice, whofe tones, if not o'er pleafant,
Would doubtlefs very much delight you,
Is filent, and if you were prefent,
I could not fay what now I write you.
You'll find it not an eafy tafk
Deciphering this wretched fcrawl,
But he can fome indulgence afk
Who writes in bed againft the wall.
IV.
So when you read this lucubration,
I muff requeft you'll not be critical
Confider that my fituation
Is not by any means poetical.
A blifter that could draw a wagon
Ufurps poffeflion of my cheft;
It feems as if a fiery dragon
Had made his home upon my breaft.
V.
I'm being now, like gold, refined
With very fierce and raging fires,
But not exaaly of the kind
That wit or verfe-making infpires.
With not a thing to eat or drink,
One can't be very bright or merry,
8




o106 AN ANSWER TO AN INVITATION TO DINE.
I'd feel much better now, I think,
If I could have a glafs of Sherry.
VI.
I'll own the wine-cup I have drained
Since I've been itretched upon my back,
But then the wine the cup contained
Is known as Wine of Ipecac;
And that, my candid mind confeffes,
(A far I feel convinced that you know,)
Does not alleviate diftreffes
As much as your delicious "' Juno."
VII.
Juft as the clock is ftriking five
I'll know you're fitting down to dinner,
And at that time, if I'm alive,
I'll pledge you in a draught of Senna;
And figh to lofe thofe fcintillations
From wit that never yet was fpiteful,
And all your brilliant corufcations
Of fancy that are fo delightful.
VIII,
Pleafe give your guefts to underfiand
I'd gladly meet them at that hour,
Were not misfortune's heavy hand
Upon me with refiitlefs power;




AN ANSWER TO AN INVITATION TO DINE. 107
And though " in propria perfona"
To vifit them I'll not be able,
My fpirit yet may have the honor
To come and rap upon the table.
IX.
When rifing from the board the crowd are
"' yino ciboque" quite " gravatus,"
I {hall be taking Dover's powder
And mourning my unhappy "Jfatus."
Then let me hope they'll kindly think
Of him who pens this trifling ftanza,
And filling up their glaffes, drink
Confufion to the Influenza!




c cc? c Av     o    6 C'   0 44
A CHARCOAL SKETCH.
" Perhaps, and then again perhaps not."
Familiar Saying.
I MEET a fellow often in my way,
Urging a horfe and wagon through the ftreets,
And  fhouting  " Charcoal!"  to  each  one he
meets;
I paffed him in the thoroughfare to-day
But did not ridicule his features grim, -
His ragged coat, and hat without a brim.
Thought I, " That fellow in thofe fhabby clothes,
Driving all day his fhapelefs horfe and cart,
Owes nothing to the tailor or his art,
Like many of our gallant city beaux;
And would that all of us, like him, could fay,
Each night, that our purfuits throughout the day
Had left no tarniflh harder to erafe
Than what he has upon his hands and face 
There's not a fpot of black upon his heart,
It's all upon his face and hands and cart,




A CHARCOAL SKETCH.             IO9
And he may ftand a better chance to go
To Heaven than I, or many that I know."
But this was Fancy's work, and we,
Though better dreffed, perchance, are juft as good
as he.




THE JILTED KNIGHT.
A BALLAD.
I.
A GALLANT knight and lady bright,
(They termed them thus of yore,)
Beneath a tree, love, confrancy,
And truth forever fwore.
II.
"My deareif love! the Heavens-above
Record the vows we've made;
With many a knight I go to fight
Upon a great crufade;
III.'Tis honor calls me from my halls
And far, my love, from thee,
With my good fword, from Paynim horde
The Holy Land to free.




THE JILTED  KNIGHT.            I
IV.
It rends my heart from thee to part,
But love muft yield to duty;
For valor, Fame fhall fpread my name
As far as thine for beauty.
V.
And though, alas! a twelvemonth pafs,
My truth is pledged forever,You'll not forget our fouls have met?"
The: lady anfwered, "Never."
VI.
One long, laft fip of her fweet lipOne preffure of the handThe knight befirode his fReed and rode
Towards the Holy Land.
VII.
The lady fighed and fobbed and cried
To fee him ride away;
In wretched plight fhe paffed that night
And part of the next day.
VIII.
But ere the fun its courfe had run
Another knight came by,



I12          THE JILTED  KNIGHT.
She fmoothed each trefs, arranged her drefs,
And wiped her tearful eye.
IX,
This knight he fwore, though ne'er before
He'd fet his eyes upon her,
That he'd prefer to live for her
Than die for empty honor.
x.
She ceafed her fighs, and raifed her eyes
That late with tears had gliflened,
And could but hear thofe vows fincere, —
Becaufe in footh fhe liftened.
XI.
Perchance (he thought, as life was fhort,
One lover near at hand
Was worth at leaft ten in the Eaft, —
Far in the Holy Land.
XII.
For juft fuppofe that Paynim foes
Should flay that abfent lover,Slight good'twould do that fhe'd been true,
When Love's fweet dream was over.




THE JILTED  KNIGHT.            113
XIII.
As years advance, lefs grows their chance
To captivate mankind:
This fadt, they fay, will often fway
A lovely woman's mind.
XIV.
A bitter truth it is, that youth
And beauty do not tarry,
So ere they go, all maidens know'Tis better that they marry.
Xv.
One ne'er would end did he pretend
To ftate how fome will ufe
Pure logic's art, their want of heart
And falfenefs to excufe.
XVI.
O'er meadow, dale, and hill and vale
The bridal bells rang out,
While one true knight in bloody fight
Was putting fcores to rout.
XVII.'Neath burning fun brave deeds were done,
Through love of her and glory, —




I 14         THE JILTED KNIGHT.
That her dear name by his great fame
Might live in fong and ftory.
XVIII.
Her fcarf he wore his breaft before, -
Upon his helm her glove, -
Some Poet fings, what foolifh things
Wife men will do for love.
XIX.
Where lances gleamed and banners ftreamed
And life-blood ebbed away,
Oh, would that knight had lolt the fight
And fallen in the fray!
XX.
Thrice happy he right peacefully
To fleep among the dead,
Than live to find in womankind
His faith forever fled.
MORAL.
XXI.
Now fhould you be by Love's decree
Poffeffor of a treafure,
Whofe lofs would make you loth to take
In life the flighteft pleafure,




THE JILTED  KNIGHT.            I I
XXII.
There's one great rule, and he's a fool
Whoever dares difcard it: —
Go not afar to fcenes of war,
But fray at home and guard it.
XXIII.
Scorn confidence, —let common fenfe
Alone be your advifer,
Or elfe fome morn you'll wake forlorn,
A fadder man, and wifer.




ROMEO  MONTAGUE TO JULIET CAPULET.
DEAR JULIET, come down from your lattice fo high,
I've no ladder with which I can reach you;
There's no dew on the grafs and the walks are quite
dry,
So, deareft, defcend, I befeech you!
Love-making you'll find very nice, if you'll try,
And I'm juft the perfon to teach you.
II.
I have come over roads very ifony and rough,
And through perils revere that beret me,
Nor tarried to afk of each Capulet gruff
If to love you he's willing to let me;
I'd have proved myfelf made of moft obftinate ftuff
To each and to all, had they met me.
III.
At a very great rifk to my clothes and my neck,
I have clambered right over the wall,
And the broken glafs-bottles its fummit that deck
Did not fcare or refitrain me at all, —




ROMEO MONTAGUE TO JULIET CAPULET. I 17
Though I knew I would be a moft terrible wreck,
If by chance I fhould happen to fall.
IV.
Nor fear I the fword of your big, burly brother,
Who, perhaps, now is hovering nigh,
But I'll dare every danger each night for another
Bright glance from your dark rolling eye.
It's no eafy thing, let me tell you, to finother
The flame that is lighted on high
V.
He who ne'er has been wounded may well jeft at
fcars,
And to overcome peril efiay,
Broken bottles fet endwife, nor locks, bolts, and bars,
Can keep a true lover away;
Thent by the foft light of the innocent ftars,
Lift to all the fweet things I've to fay.
VI.
It feems you objed to my family name,I would I'd my vifiting card;
For although for my name'tis not I who's to blame,
Yet I'd tear in ten pieces the word;
But for fuch a flight caufe to extinguith Love's flame
Would truly be vaftly abfurd,




rI8  ROMEO MONTAGUE TO JULIET CAPULET.
VII.
The flower we fancy fo much as a rofe'Would affuredly feem juft as fweet,
And be as agreeable to eyes and to nofe
If we called it a carrot or beet,
And I as John Smith or Tom Brown, I fuppofe,
Would appear juft as well in the ftreet.
VIII.
So in order no more to be under a ban,
And denied an accefs to your door,
I'll have my name changed juft as foon as I can,
Nor be Romeo Montague more;
To think aught a facrifice -I'm not the manThat is done for the girl I adore.
Ix.
Then, Juliet, defcend from that balcony high,
I've a fermon on Love that I'll preach you, -
We'll take a nice walk'round the garden fo dry,
So, deareft, come down, I befeech you;
Love-making, I think, you will like if you try,
And I know'twill be pleafant to teach you.




THE REASON WHY.
I.
HER eye was like the violet
When morning dews are on it,
Her cheek competed with the rofe
She wore in her Spring bonnet,
Her lips were cherries in the fun
Juft ripening on the ftem,
Her teeth were like the glifrening pearls
On royal diadem.
II.
Her figure was fuperb,- her grace
Seemed really fuperhuman,
For Nature fometimes does her beft
To beautify a Woman;
In footh the was a lovely thing
For Memory to recall,
And yet he wooed her not — becaufe
Her dividends were fmall.




TO MY UMBRELLA.
MY well-tried friend, we've been together
Through many a change of wind and weather
Three years and more;
While ftrolling down the London Strand,
To satisfy a fhower's demand
And fave my clothes, I made a Rfand
At what appeared a " Hat, cap, and
Umbrella fitre."
And then and there I purchased you,
The beft of all that were on view,
For one pound one,
And never fince have felt regret
For what I paid; you're worth it yet,
And I confers that getting wet
Affords no fun.
III.
While looking at you through the finoke
('That now enfhrouds me like a cloak)
Of my cigar,




TO MY UMBRELLA.              1 21
My Fancy, for the humor's fake,
A backward range effays to take,
And fpeak of what has helped to make
You what you are.
IV.
Some tree that raifed its branches high
As if to paint the azure fky,
Was forced to fall,
And from a portion of its wood,
Your ftaff was made, fo ftrong and good
That many a fearful gale has flood
Nor cracked at all.
V.
From the deep bofom of the earth,
Where they experience quite a dearth
Of light and air,
The miner with his pick and fpade,
Has dug the ore from which were made
The tips you wear.
VI.
A monfrer who affeds the fea
Has been prevailed upon to be
Harpooned'till dead.
And from his great and mighty jaw
9




122           TO MY UMBRELLA.
A fubftance, mifcalled bone, they tore,
And fafhioned it with knife and faw
Into fome dozen rods or more
That you might fpread.
VII.
Another monfter, who beguiled
The time by roaming India's wild
Near Coromandel,
While gambolling upon the plain,
Defpite, and for, his teeth was flain
That you for ufe, in cafe of rain,
Might have a handle.
VIII.
Your filken cover, - to be brief,Was once a fimple mulberry-leaf
On mulberry-tree,
And now by procesfes I'll not
Mention, becaufe I can't, is what
I plainly fee.
IX.
Many a fhower you have braved,
And many a coat and hat you've faved, -
Protecting thing!
All know there are not many ways
In which a rhymesfer ever pays




TO MY UMBRELLA.              123
For benefits conferred, — his lays
Are Sometimes all that he can raife,
So reft contented if your praife
I briefly fing.
x.
I've found you through all change the fame,You've ne'er deferved that hateful name,
Fair-weather friend;
VThere'er I've been, on land or fea,
By day or night, you've flood by me
When ftorms arofe, right gallantly,
Until the end.
XI.
I prize you, though you have no beauty,
For this, that you have done your duty
As if you knew it.
Now calm and quietly you ftand
In reach of my extended hand,
Ready, when fuch is my command,
Again to do it.
XII.
When in a proper frame of mind
There's nought in which one cannot find
Inftrudive teaching,
That will improve him, if he'll lay it




124           TO MY UMBRELLA.
Clofe to his heart, and will obey it,
As much, with all refped I fay it,
As pulpit preaching.
XIII.
I'll moralize, for foon or late,
Such is the fern decree of Fate,
An angel comes
With power to fummon us away,
No choice have we to go or flay,
But that fad word, Farewell, mufi fay
To our' dear hom-es.
XIV.
When to my life he puts the bound,
In one refpeat would I be found
Not unlike thee.
Ere yet by Death my limbs are chilled,
On this alone my hopes I build,
That when my beating heart is ftilled
I may be thought to have fulfilled
My deftiny.




OLD WINE IN NEW  BOTTLES.
NO. I.
SAID James to John, "' Pray tell me, Sir,
Why is it that the Devil,
In fpite of all his naughtinefs,
Can never be uncivil? "
Then John replied, " The anfwer's plain
To any mind that's bright,The Imp o' Darknefs ne'er can be
Confidered Imp o' Light."
NO. II.
My Chriftian friend, I've heard it faid
The highly valued rarity, -
A perfea wife, - with Satan has
One point of fimilarity;
For, while in fleep the Hufband-man
Forgets his worldly cares,
She, to her credit be it faid,
Then comes and jews the tears.




126        OLD WINE IN NEW BOTTLES.
NO. III.
Old Paterfamilias called to his fide
Little Tommy, his wonderful fon,
And inquired, " How differs a hen with two wings
From a hen that poffeffes but one?"
Then Tommy replied, for the lad in the field
Of wit held extenfive dominion,
"The diftinEtion is fmall, for there feems but to be
A flight difference, Sir, of a pinion."
NO. IV.
Were you ever in Cork, Sir? was Foote afked one
day;
And the A&or replied in his humorous way,
That though in moft cities of note he had been
Yet of Cork'twas the drawings alone that he'd feen.
NO. V.
Said Johnfon, this galvanized goblet of lead
Shall be his who can fooneft affemble
His wits, and fay when can a candle be faid
A tombftone at all to refemble.
Then Jackfon replied, with fuccefsful endeavor,
Extending his hand for the cup,
That a candle refembles a tombftone whenever'Tis for any late huJband Jet up.




OLD WINE IN NEW BOTTLES.           127
NO. VI.''The Pilgrim o'er a defert wild
Should ne'er let want confound hirm,
For he at any time can eat
Thefand which is around him.
It might feem odd that he could find
Such palatable fare,
Did not we know the fons of Ham
Were bred and muJlered there.
NO. VII.
Jane fears to walk'mid flowers in Spring,
Though each one fragrance diftils,
Becaufe her nerves are weak, and all'Ihe plants are hooting pffils.
NO. VIII.
a rage to the office of Counfellor B.
Ruihed a gallant militia commander
Two learn whether " Jackafs," as oft he was called,
Was a ground for an adtion of flander;
The lawyer replied, " In fome cafes the term,
If not flanderous, at leaft is pfeudonymous,
But in yours, (and for this I fhall make you no
charge,)
I confider it merely fynonymous.




128       OLD WINE IN NEW  BOTTLES.
NO. IX.
Blank's Poems fell on Julia's head,
Not long fhe bore the pain; -
The Jury found the died of milk
And water on the brain.
NO. X.
I put my pen to this fcrap of paper
To afk if you comprehend the relation
The entry-mat bears to the outfide fcraper?
If you do, pleafe reply without hefitation;
But you don't, for your brain works exceedingly flow,
And you needn't fmile in that imbecile way
When I fay, a Jlep farther; for you didn't know,
And that ifn't what you were juft going to fay.
NO. XI.
At church, Joe fays, his manly heart
With true devotion fwells;
Difproving that - as fome affert -
He's led there by the Belles;
While Jane, the happieft of coquettes,
Whofe eye no forrow dims,
Moft pioufly employs her time
In looking for the Hims.




OLD WINE IN NEW BOTTLES.           129
NO. XII.
When Sambo, with a bull behind,
Of life and limb in danger,
Shuns any clofe acquaintance with
The rude unpleafant firanger,
No doubt, like Patriots of old,
Should fear ftill leave him fenfe,
He'd give, if nought for tribute, yet
His'" millions for defence."
NO. XII1.
"'Are there not too many pajages
In Plagiary's Play?"
" Yes, fo many that the meaning
Has wholly loit its way."
NO. X1V.
The Philofopher who feeks
The fabled rfone in vain,
Is like old Father Neptune,
The Monarch of the Main;
For no perfon in his fenfes
The conclufion can refift,
When I fay, he is afeeking
What never did exijt.




130       OLD WINE IN NEW  BOTTLES.
NO. XV.
The reafon why a bear fhould feek
A dry-goods fhop feems puzzling,
And fo I'll ftate that there he'd want
Juft nothing elfe but muzzling.
NO. XV1.
Byron afked Moore, " In Love wherein
Aught of refemblance lies
To the potato?"  " Why! " faid Moore,
" They both Jhoot from the eyes."
" That anfwer's good," rejoined my Lord,
In the general laughter fharing,:" But the likenefs that I fancied, was,
They both decreafe by paring."
NO. XVII.'Tis not caprice that moves the duck,
Throughout all times and feafons,
To difappear beneath the wave,
For it has divers reafons;
And its return to light and air
Caprice does not direRt,
The reafons for this fecond move
Are fundry, I fufped.




OLD WINE IN NEW BOTTLES.           13I
NO. XVIII.
When Johnfon for a time diffolved
The conjugal relation,
He told his wife he'd fend her funds,
Which was a confolation;
But fhe at laft was forced to fay,
As by the months went flitting
And nothing came, "Great kindnefs this,'Tis truly unremitting."
NO. XIX.
Luck varies with the men who hunt
For gold, as I'll explain:
Some find the ore in creajes,
WVhile others feek in vein.
NO. XX.
Knoweft thou, whene'er the joylefs mind
Seems moft diftraught with grief,
Where fympathy the heart can find,
And genuine relief?
If not, then Reader, learn from me,
Howe'er the cafes vary,
You'll find Relief and Sympathy
In every DifAionary.




132      OLD WINE IN NEW BOTTLES.
NO. XXI.
Once, at a feaft, when jokes flew'round
Much thicker than the flies,
The hoff had doubts if he fhould carve
The mutton faddlewife,
And therefore turned to Theodore Hook,
The celebrated Wit,
Who anfwered, " Bridlewife, for in
My mouth will be a bit."
NO. XXII.
Forth from the Opera I faw a wag,
Well known to Fame in all his glory come,
And as he ftepped upon the icy flag
He fell with force enough to firike him dumb,
And rolling over, landed in the gutter;
I fprang to fave,  but only caught his hat,And as he rofe I thought I heard him mutter,
" One muft Cjharp if he would not B flat."
NO. XXIII.
QUESTION.
Fair Joan of Arc, they fay, was not
Sword, lance or pike afraid of;
Can any perfon tell me what
So brave a girl was made of?




OLD WINE IN NEW BOTTLES.           133
ANSWER.
The Heroine, whofe triumphant blade
Made Bedford's foildiers dance,
If Hiftory tells the truth, was Maid
Of Orleans, in France.




SONNETS.
LIKE an indulgent mother, Nature fSill
Awaits her prodigal's return; - nor blame
Nor fcorn has fhe, but ever fmiles the fame
And yields her bounties to each one who will;
Her generous arms fhe opes to him who worn
With toil and forrow, hopelefs and forlorn,
Jaded and fainting with the unceafing ftrife
And battle with the world, would feek for reft, -
Enfolds him like an infant to her breafk
And reads him leffons of a purer life.
Here, with this fireamlet rippling at my feet,
Far from the roar and turmoil of the town,
I feel the rapture of her prefence fweet,
Nor would refign it for an Emperor's crown.'34




As fome poor captive, prifoned and enchained,
Who long in vain has ftruggled to be free,
Will learn to deem his lot by Heaven ordained
And yield to what he thought a ftern decree,
So I, rebellious once, now can but blefs'The fate that makes me fo entirely thine,'To love and ferve thee is my happinefs; —
Who would be free where bondage is divine!
In joy and grief, in pleafure and in pain,
Nearelf and deareft to thy heart I've Rfood;'Tis mockery to say, " Be free once more,"
My arm is powerlefs to ope the door
Would lead me forth;- fo long I've worn thy chain
I could not break it, Deareft, if I would.
135




WITHOUT, the tempeft rages, and the winds
Howl like unearthly fpirits through the ftreet,
My cafements ihake in concert with the blinds,
And all the panes are crufted o'er with fleet;
But here within is comfort and repofe,
The cheerful logs are blazing on my hearth,
Of favorite books in rows fucceeding rows,
That ftand at my command, there is no dearth;
Thefe are the valued friends with whom I live,Friends who affume no privilege to fay
Unwelcome truths, or mark my faults, or give
Unafked advice, - right pleafant friends are they.
With them, -  this pipe, -  that flafk of Rhenif
wine, -
Though tempeits rage, - beatitude is mine.
1'36




I PINE and languifh with defire to know
Something of this unquiet heart of mine,
The myftery of its life, and where {hall flow
In future time this effence fo divine,Soul, Spirit, Mind, Intelligence, or Love,
Or whatfoe'er, -that raifes me above
The brutes that wholly die; and whence arofe
The fpark that lighted in my heart this fire.
As Life is haftening on, more fiercely glows
Within me this unfatisfied defire
Heaven's book of knowledge in my hands to grafp
And all the bonds of Ignorance unclafp;
But I muft wait God's time, — then each {hall
know
Whence his life came and whither it {hall go.
137
10




IN genial funthine and in ftormy weather
O'er pleafant flopes and through fome rugged ways,
E'en from the earliefi of our boyhood's days,
We two have walked Life's varied path together,
And fhall we now, in fpite of what hath been
Through all thefe years, ignore the well-knit band
Of fellowfhip? Aloof fhall we two tfand
While wider grows the gulf that yawns between,
Until its hollow jaws {hall ope fo wide
That all endeavor will be vain to crofs,While we regret, too late, each other's lofs,
And all for cherishing a foolifh pride?
No.  Not if one atoning word of mine
Sent from my heart hath power to meet with thine.
138




As ibme light bark upon a fummer fea
Holding its homeward courfe, with hope elate
And joy triumphant, fpeeding gallantly,
Unconfcious of its fad impending fate,
Is fuddenly by Jove's dread lightning riven,
Then, wrecked and ihattered, by the tempeft driven;
So my confiding heart, that day by day
Seemed haftening to the haven of its reft
Where Care and Sorrow ne'er fhould find their way,
But Love and Happinefs would build their nef,
Was ftricken by a fatal blow, and hurled
Again upon a cold and heartlefs world;
Hope, as ihe fled me, whifpered all was loft,
And now my heart is wrecked and tempeft-toft.'39




THERE is an Art no penalties engird,
Of power tranfcendent, - ever in our reach, —
And our own hearts its daily need can teach;
No laws reftria its ufe, — to all'tis free
As Heaven's great gift of air; the vulgar herd
Have equal rights with Kings; and yet'tis ftrange,
Knowing its limitlefs extent of range,
So few employ its magic minifiry.
Its fway o'er young and old no voice can fpeak, -
It hath a charm to change the wayward mood
Of friends and lovers, -  to fuflain the weak, —
To tame the brutal, — to reftrain the rude,
To win the wandering, and to foothe diffress.'Tis Love's own graceful Art of Gentlenefs.
140




THE knell is tolled of all my joyous dreams
Of tranquil happinefs, my Love, with thee.
And all the Future, once fo brilliant, teems
With nought but lonelinefs and mifery;
For Hope lies buried, - funeral tapers burn
Where Hymen's torch fhould throw its gladdening
beams.
Dark fhadows greet me wherefoe'er I turn,
And feem to mock me with a fiendifh glee,No refignation can my fpirit learn,No confolation can Time bring to me;A barren fpot whereon no funfhine gleams,A wreck abandoned on a ftormy fea, -
A withered garland on Sepulchral urn, -
Are what my heart is like, apart from thee.
04'
lo *




ADVICE is wafted both by Sage and Preacher
Becaufe Experience ever keeps the fchool
VWherein all learn, — the wife man and the fool;
Whate'er men fay, fhe is the only teacher,
Her talks are hard, - her leffons, flowly learned,
Are ne'er forgotten; deeply are they burned
Into the very foul. Ah, yes! and when
In later years our felf-conceit departs,
And, if at all, true wifdom comes to men,
A confcioufnefs of folly fills our hearts;
The miffs that fhroud our vifion break away
And then to our regret we clearly fee
What vain illufions lured our fteps affray; —
How falfe the Gods to which we bent the knee.
142




Is there no balm in Gilead for the mood
Wherein I fit in mifery, and feel
Anew the agony Time will not heal?
In hopeleffinefs, defpair, and grief I brood,
My heart confuming in this folitude,
Groping in darknefs, - feeking but in vain
For comfort to this mourning foul of mine;
Hath Friendfhip's gentle craft no anodyne
To foothe the trouble of an o'erwrought brain?
Alas! No minifiry of human art, —
Whate'er its mifflion in this world of pain, -
Can cure the defolation of'the heart;
But Faith, that bids us never to defpond,
Can rend the gloom and fhow the Heaven beyond.'43




IN this delicious filence fo profound
Of Night's moft halcyon hour, as I lie
Stretched on the turf beneath a gorgeous fky
While all the world is huflied, am I not crowned
With Heaven's divineft gift,- a joyous heart?
All paffions ceafe, - no evil thought can mar
The glory fhed on me by moon and ftar,The world's vexations one by one depart,
The wounds of daily fuffering are healed, -
Long-cherifhed hatreds, and all fenfe of wrong
Held in my inmoft foul I freely yield;For perfe&t Love, e'en fuch as Poet's fong
Hath never told, fo fills this heart of mine,
I know the Prefence near me is Divine.
I44




BEFORE my voice is filent with the dead,
Would I might breathe one grand and noble lay
That, — fung befide the dying fufferer's bed, -
Would foothe the fainting foul and aching head, —
Teach my fad brethren on their onward way
To ftruggle manfully from day to day, —
Infpire a firmer truftfulnefs, - relieve
The bitter agony of thofe who grieve,Roufe the defpairing, — and make cold hearts beat
With a fublime emotion. I would give
All of this life in human hearts to live.
Grant me to fing that fong divinely fweet,
Then'neath the dairies joyfully I'll lie
For I fhall know I cannot wholly die.
I45




LVENVOL
TO THE READER.
MY wifh is granted, if the paffing hour
That thou hafl given to thee, — my fmiles and
tears, 
Should have by happy chance the magic power
As friends to leave us for the coming years;
It may be fo, if aught from heart of mine
Hath touched a chord that vibrated in thine.
146