HEART HISTORIES, SPIRIT LONGINGS, ETC, By'L. B. F. PUBLISHED BY THE AUTHOR. MALONE, K Y. AND 139 EIGHTH ST., NEW YORK. 1877. CHARLES P. SOMERBT, PRINTER, 139 Eighth Street, N Y. LEAVES FROM THE COUNTRY FEELINGS AND FANCIES. Go, little book; yet fear I for theo, lest BO small and frail a craft, when launched upon a doubtful sea, should ride the sport of the rough winds and waves, till sunk beneath the billows. May none but gentle gales and zephyrs bland waft thee upon thy untried way shouldst thou once venture from the safer shore. Dedicated to my Aunt Eunice Conant, as a mark of esteem and gratitude. Hoping in God's kind help, I venture forth. CONTENTS. Dedication, etc., 7 Lines on Publishing Early Pieces, 9 Burning of St. Eustaclie, Canada, 11 A Prologue, 18 Alter News of Lafayette's Death, 19 Lake Champlain, 20 Our Classic Green, 21 The Backsliding Drunkard, 22 Her Jewels, 23 To the Same, 23 Musings, 24 Old Pickwaket, 26 To a Schoolmate, 30 Answer, 30 Love, 31 I'll Take it Back, 32 Words of a Brother Dying at Sea, 33 V Sheridan, 35 ' To , 38 En y and Jealousy, 40 Death's Flowers, 42, The Steamship President, 45 My Grandfather, 48 To the Memory of Little George R 8f 50 The Daughter to Her Father, 51 To a Very Little Child, 52 To A. A , 53 To , 54 The Presented Quilt, 5G Elder Safford, 5T Oh, Wilt Thou Ever Think, 58 To My Child, 60 To My Little Mary. 62 For the Bride, 63 A Mother's Address to Her Child, 65 To the Memory of Elizabeth W , 66 On the Receipt of Wedding Cake, 67 On the Death of a Deceased Brother's Friend, 68 A Ballad of the Olden Time, 70 Spring, 71 My Bible, 71 A New Year's Ditty, 72 Tin- Despondent Mother's Prayer, 74 A Song for the Democracy, 75 After Election, Same Year, 78 To Ireland, 80 Enna and Willio, 81 The Birth of Slander, 34 The Twin Sister's Love and Friend- ship, 86 Ladies' Speaking, 88 Jealousy, 89 > Sunset, 91 Our Little River 92 The Hope of Oppressed Ireland, 93 Ma Wouldn't Let Me Out, 94 A Dying Aged Lady, 95 The Little Child-Flower, 95 Boat Song, 96 Forgive and Forget, 97 Affliction, 98 I Thought, etc., 99 Poor Little Thing, 100 For Mr. and Mrs. S , 102 For the One Man, etc., 103 To the Ladies, 103 A Child's Idea, 104 The Mexican War, 105 A Word for Thanksgiving, 112 Written for M H , 113 Fourth of July, 116 The Dying One's Adieu, 117 A Song ot Solitude, 119 Aspirings, 121, Christian, 123 For Mrs. McP , 124 Kelative to the Death of Little Sarah, 126 For the Sorrowing Wife, 128 To , 130 On an Invitation to a Festival, 130 ToMr.H th, 131 Our Cottage in Winter, 132 A Puff, 133 We Know so Little of Eternity, 134 Farewell, Old Church, 135 New Church Dedication, 136 Lines Suggested by a V sit to Prisoner, 138 Lines Relative to the Same, 140 How Much I Sin, 142 God Pity the Poor, 143 Snowing, 144 Our Canary, 146 Death of Birdie Canary, 143 My Country Home, 150 To a Sister, 152 To the Sea, 153 The Black-sealed Letter, 155 My Grandmother, 156 Our Little May, 158 Plain Work, 159 On the Death of Wm. Safford, 162 Sorrow's Music Strains, 214 "She is Not Dead, but Sleepeth," 215 The Dying Pauper's Adieu, 216 To My Brown-eyed One, 219 Letter to Margaret Verne, 220 A Response to Margaret Verne, 222 The Beautiful Coquette, 224 l To the " Lounger," 225 A Wish for the " Lounger," 226 Friendship, 227 They Think Me Cold, 228 Charley Flinn, 229 Juliet, 231 Our Cottage in Summer, 233 Kindly Words, 235 Lovo and the Maiden, 236 Etty Vale, 237 The Departed Mother, 239 The Lost Sheep, 240 , Kitty LeGrave, 241 In a Little Cottage, 242 Question and Answer, 243 The Swan in the Park, 244 V The Vision, 245 /> wv X I n M'emoryof My Brother^ When Evening"? uts, etc., 249 William, 166 Our Anna, 251 Father Have You no Hope for Me ? 168 I Long to Go Home, 1 71 A Star in the North, 253 Sabbath Evening, '254 Sunset, 255 I Stood Beside His Pillowed Head, 1 73 The Dying One, 256 If Hope, etc., 174 Come To Me, Brother, 175 Sorrow, 176 V He'll Know Me, 177 Mary, Jesus' Mother, 183 Our Babe, 185 Alma's Flood, 187 The Woods, 188 A Little Piece of Prose, 189 The Rainbow, 191 Poetry What Is It? 192 When the Scul, 193 The Word " Mother," 194 Have We Flowers, 194 Is There Not Room? 195 Love Awake My Soul, etc., 196 , My Love's Return, 197 - Let the Little Star Shine, 198 The Sick Child, 200 Our Household Lambs, 201 Our Youngest Cherub, 201 Our Sunbeam, 202 The Child-dream, 203 Another Baby Hhyme, 205 Mamma, Is It Jesus Smiling? 205 The Child's Wish to Pray, 206 I Sat Me Down Weeping, 207 A Child's Prayer, 208 A Beggar's Petition, 209 Cornelia, 210 Our Darlings, 211 Smiles, 257 The Soul's Triumph, 253 Willie Wooer, 261 A Song of the Sea, 262 Beautiful Bird, 264 The Maiden's Confession, 265 The Song I Love, 267 Hearth and Home, 268 Pleadings, 269 A Hint to Husbands, 271 Bird in Central Park, 273 Back to Old England, 274 'Tis Past, 275 Two Brothers, 277 A Call to Democrats, 279 An Appeal to Freemen, 280 A Cry for Peace, 281 Governor Seymour, 283 Rappahannock, 285 Joseph and F. D. Flanders, 288 A Leader of the Republican Party, 290 How Canst Thou, Sun, 292 A Prayer, 293 Where Are They, 295 An Instance of Inhumanity, 296 Vallandigham, 299 Peace, 301 Vallandigham Exiled, 302 Lines Referring to Mrs. Vallandig- ham, 305 My Country, 307 One of the Fruits of Battle, 308 The Wintry Winds, 410 Pestilence, 310 Our Sailor Boy, 411 The Old Negro's Lament, 312 The Lost One, 414 Asking Pardon for Jefferson^'m Growing: Old, 415 Davis, 313 To Thee, Hibernia, 315 To England, 317 My Country, After the Veto, 319 Another Note of Joy, 321 ' - To France, 322 To Editress Nellie, 323 We Shall Meet Again, 324 A Lit tie Prayer for a Great Good, 326 Sunday, 32T A Little Word for "Woman's Rights," 328 I've Changed My Mind, 329 A Dialogue in a Nutshell, 331 Sunday Musings, 333 The Poor Man T s Grave, 334 God's Voice in Nature, 335 The Two, 337 Mary, The Holy, 340 A Little Pearl-drop, 342 The Bird's Song, 343 First Robin of the Spring, 345 We've Wakened, 346 Hearth and Home a Song, 348 "Footprints of the Creator," 350 My Father, Dr. Roswell Bates, 351 My Father, 354 Sweet Twilight Star, 356 Coming and Going, 357 The Old Homestead, 358 Autumn Leaves, 362 Thanklessness, 363 Creation Teaches Wondrous Songs, 365 Jesus Lovinu, 366 The Chicago Fire, 368 The Dying Pauper, 390 Mighii AWhen Shall I See Thee, 416 YOur Sister, 41T We're Dreaming, 419 Our Own Dead, 421 The Angels Came for Her, 422 They Tell Me, 423 Petitions, 424 Despair and Prayer, 425 The Land Beyond, 426 Be Happy, 428 Oh, Whure Arc They Where, 429 VOh, Can They Forget, 431 "VDo They Return, 433 * The Land of the Forever, 435 In a Country Far, 437 Be Still, My Soul, 438 The Hills and Seas, 440 What is Fame to Woman, 441 Lost Souls 442 Autumn Winds, 443 The Lone Tree, 444 The Mother and Baby, 445 A Morning in November, 448 Yc May Part, 448 Mr. William Cassidy, 449 Ye Are Gone, 450 The Way of Life, 454 If All the Prayers, etc., 454 Before Myra H 's Death, 455 After Her Death, 456 VI Love to Believe, 457 x l'm Almost There, 459 Oh, If for Only One Short Hour, 460 My Savior Dear, 461 Why May not Women Preach, 462 Why and Because, 464 Buzz, 465 Wh >n He Comes, 466 An Up Telegram, 467 Autumn's Soughing Winds, 392 Adirondacks, 394 What are the Ocean Wa\ es Doing, 395 Bryant, 468 The Old Year, 396 Centennial Ode, 469 To Cousin May C n, 397 Sing on, Sweet Rill, 398 The Little Beggar Boy, 399 'Tis Sweet, 402 The Orphan Boy, 404 For the Fourth of July, 407 The Noble Fireman, 408 The Warm Weather, 409 Lines for the Fourth, 471 The Cry for Liberty, 472 A Hymn of Praise, 472 World Wonders, 474 Furl the Flag, 476 Central Park, 478 Longfellow, 479 LINES WRITTEN WHEN I FIRST THOUGHT OF PUTTING MY EARLY PIECES IN TYPE, IN THE LONG AGO. Though I am young, in childhood's leisure I court the Muses for my pleasure, Fearing, the while, they'll come to shame me For my presumption, and to blame me That I so youthful and unwise Should dare to lift to t?iem my eyes. But if they frown, and slight, and jeer me, They, sometimes, come so very near me That I can see the chaplets wreathing Their fairy brows, and hear their breathing ; And then I screen my blushing face Lest they deny me, seeking grace. But though youth's shy, 'twill often venture To try its wings in spite of censure ; And so do I, a youthful creature Who to step safe needs yet a teacher Attempt to write a single rhyme, Hoping I may improve in time. 10 Then dear friends (if friends I've any All have either few or many), Should these lays, I write in childhood, Rustic seem, with scent of wildwood, Or too weak or too pathetic, Please be, each, my gentle critic ; For my heart doth faint and falter Here, before the Muses' altar ; And my fingers shrink and tremble, For I cannot well dissemble That I fear they'll spurn each line, Though / love it, for 'tis mine. 183-. 11 THE BURNING OF ST. EUSTACHE, CANADA. NO FICTION. Written and spoken at a School Exhibition in my early school days 1837. Aurora dawned in beauty on our land Skies smiled aloft the air was fresh and bland ; Morn never shone more lovely, bright, or clear; But soon a cloud arose soon dropped the tear - A darksome doom upon our village fell, And few were left the horrid tale to tell. A countless host against the Western sky, With martial tread and banners streaming high, Equipped for fight, on our defenseless town, Like hungry mountain jvolves, came rushing down. And the dark deeds, within that lovely vale, Will be to-night the burthen of my tale. The scene, uprising fresh bofore my sight, Within my brain seems acted o'er to-night. " Hark you ! th' approaching tramp ; the rolling drum ; The ' Tory ' hosts draw near ! They come ! They come 1 Haste ! to our rescue fly ! My son, be brave, And ne'er return a coward or a slave. Let ' Death or Freedom ' your proud war-cry be ; Fight for our homes, but most our liberty." Thus says a widowed mother to her son Her first-born boy and quick the deed is done. 12 He goes, that gallant youth, ~"th eagle eye, And fervent prayers for him ; :~end on high. He joins the " rebel " force, a" d with his might He wields his weapons foremost in the fight. (O ! noble mother of a noble son Such heroism should the-f^ld have won, E'en though his band, but poorly armed and few, Wrestled with thousands who the broadsword drew. But fiends methinks in human shape were there, And Pity fled the field in blank despair ! Dire carnage and disorder gained the day, And valiant arms were crushed amid the fray.) A husband from the scabbard draws his sword, And turns his face to front th hireling horde. With dark forebodings in his anxious mind, He turns from home and dear ones leaves behind ; Yet looks he back upon the faithful wife Who long hath shared with him the toils of life. With gloomy brow, a fond adieu he waves ; Then, speeding swift, o'ertakes the patriot braves. For her, too hard the test, her woman's heart Shrinks from the partner of her life to part. Quick, from the wainscot with her fragile hand A gun is seized. She joins the " rebel " band. And gray-haired men, far past the prime of life, With tott'ring steps, haste onward to the strife. And aged matrons to the battle fly, Beneath the soldier's tread ere long to lie. And children, in the hurry and amaze, Scarce from the parent's knee, their weapons raise. And mothers, trembling from their couch of pain, With tiny babes, press to the bloody plain. Thus, with a force half puerile, the brave Push to the conflict, their loved land to save ; And, though outnumbered, to the fight impelled, In honor and in valor they excelled. 13 Nobly, like men, each battles with his might, For home and country rush befo-e their sight ; They stagger not before the cTashing steel, Nor the broad claymore's thrusts force them to reel ; But like to savage beasts th' opposing host Combat, and honor on the field is lost, While cherished homes and hearths they desecrate In use for their vile purposes to wait. Now serried ranks close on the little band Which, hot contesting, grapple hand to hand. But list ! hoarse shouts of victory arise ; Mis patriot blood the field of carnage dyes ; Dread massacre, with more than brutal mien, With horrid front, now stalks the dismal scene. The gasping warriors fly the battle-plain ; In heaps the dying lie ; in heaps the slain. Some, now o'erpowered and fainting, deign to yield ^ Some raise the flag of truce time-hallowed shield ; While women to the house of God repair, There to invoke the throne of heaven with pray'r. But all in vain the flag is raised on high, And ardent prayers ascend the vaulted sky ; Heaven from the carnage turns its mournful face, Lest God, in wrath, should blast the mortal race. Now, rush the " rebels " to the sacred Fane, And, in their haste, each nerve and fibre strain ; Still, ruthless murderers their steps pursue, Thirsting for blood of those whose souls were true To Peace, to Freedom not the clanking chains Of dark Oppression, or a Tyrant's reins. Quickly overtaking those who hither flee Unmoved by pity or the suppliant knee They thrust through every heart the quiv'ring blade ; The glittering bayonet by no hand is staid ; 14 Not e'en the infant 'neath the fond embrace, Which anxiously looka up with pleading face ; Nor e'en the pale, consumptive, ghastly form Of helpless woman can be spared the storm, Till, desperate, the " rebels " force their way, And close the poitals mid the awful fray. As heroes brave they now the siege withstand, And bar each passage with a mighty hand. Oh, useless effort ; life prolonged in vain ; A moment more, they number with the slain. Sweet Liberty ! that name to them most dear They ne'er can know, ne'er feel its gladd'ning cheer. Yet Freedom from their dust full-armed shall spring, And the u proud bird " shall soar with outspread wing. The foe the sacred temple now defame, (Methinks a curse hangs o'er their deeds and name, Despair and anguish shall their pathway wreathe, And scorpion stings each smitten conscience seethe Asjjranded Cains upon the face of earth, No solace to their souls shall life give birth.) So, nobly, entrance being now denied, Anger inflames ; revenge aloud is cried. Terrific to behold their mad career Thousands 'gainst one he falls the brave Cbenier ! With back against a pillar of the Fane, His eye ne'er quailed, nor frenzied reeled his brain ; Boldly he battled, firm and undismay'd, And slaughtered numbers by his hand were laid. With more than lion-courage, proud he stood TiH countless saber thrusts spilled his life blood. Now, 'gainst the temple fiery darts are hurled The prisoned soon must meet another world Before the great Avenger they will stand To plead their wrongs, that murdered, noble band ; But not as yet the arrows powerless fall, Nor bullets pierce the consecrated wall. 15 Now, to the roof part ply the flaming torch, And part with firebrands light the sacred porch. Red flames uprise and crackle in the wind, And devastation follows fast behind. The massive walls, now fired, are cleaving through ; The savage monsters raise their shouts anew ; The adamantine souls the trumpet blow ; They raise the cup and drink the crimson flow, And toast their lives, their wives, their heav'n, their all, Joying at those foul deeds, which hrave they call. Mercy, to them, is as an unknown word, Its thrilling accents are unheeded lizard. Now, the fierce-raging element within, Thundering, drowns the ribaldry and din. Bursting, the scorching flames to heaven ascend ; The earth's foundation shakes; the echoes rend The air ; keen, piercing shrieks, heartrending cries, Deep, gurgling death-groans from the dying rise ; The ear is stunned ; word* never can portray The dreadful scene, nor man the deeds repay. His soul would faint ere half his work was done ; E'en its foul image he would haste to shun. Some 'scape the luri 1 flames through broken sash, Ere their hot prison-walls around them crash ; They leap upon the graves where sleep the dead Of earlier days, ere yet the hostile tread Of British minions had defiled the sod And drenched the hallowed dust with patriot blood. Here still pursued ? Oh, whither shall they go ? Followed by hosts who aim the deadly blow, They dread the massacre they needs must feel, They dread the mangling of the reeking steel; A prey to fien is begirt with human form, They raise alas ! the suicidal arm. Most gloomy fate ! that man should spill his blood To 'scape the vengeance of a demon crowd. 16 Girond thus perishes; with his own hands Stained by his blood, he enters unknown lands. (One leader he of those few patriot braves Who courted death rather than live as slaves.) Thus many fell upon their native soil Their late proud home a prey to fury's spoil. The foe insatiate still, with rapid haste The dear, devoted villa-ge is laid waste. (But erst is pillaged every house and hut, The greedy hirelings' purse with wealth to glut ) Destruction reigns supreme; the burning air Now drives the rabid soldiery from its lair. Titeir work is finished ; but the day hastes on When God will retribute the dark deeds done. Now turn I back where loved Eustache just stood : I gaze in anguish on the blood-drenched sod ; Here lie in heaps the noble warriors slain Fighting for home and country, but in vain ; And here ihe mother, wife and gentle child, Mangled and to n as by beasts of the wild ; And there, 'mid smoking ruins where once bowed The humble souls before a gracious God, Lie bones and ashes of the bodies doomed To writhe beneath the flames which them consumed ; And there, too, fallen homes around whose hearths The loved ones met ere they had fled from earth. Oh, sickening sight ! With heart appalled I gaze Upon the spot beloved of former days. Havoc of wrath, flames, butchery and death, Late smiling vales, fouled by war's blasting breath. Ye weep, kind ladies ! not unpitying, weep ; Blush not that t^ar-drops from their fountains creep: How could, unmoved, ye view those lone r mains ? Earth, soaked with crimson gore from mortal veins ? 17 The noble husband, youth and aged sire Passed thus from earth to sate a savage ire ! How could, unmoved, ye view your sex enthralled In war's dire carnage brutally despoiled ? Unpitying view the nursling innocent, So harmless, tortured to give vengeance vent ? Poor little trembling captive, hither led To writhe beneath the scourge with kindred dead. The mourning ones (if such their race survive), Friendless, perchance, upon the earth to live ? The sight might cause a saint to drop a tear, To weep with those who still may linger here ; Might cause the angels who sit round the throne To heave a sigh for those who thence have flown. Ladies, that dreadful day is scarcely past The dying embers crackle on the waste And while the mournful ta'e to you I tell, Swine lick the dust where patriot heroes fell. Oh, tell me, spirits, round the judgment bar Ye countless host, who range both near and far Oh, tell me, was such doom decreed on High By Him who reigns beyond the ambient sky ? Or was it so dt creed by hell beneath, Man should thus perish, thus his life bequeath To sate a brutal, hireling, ireful foe ? Here drops the vail this mortals may not know. 18 A PROLOGUE. "Written in my early school days. Kind audience, before you we appear, With grateful thanks for that indulgent ear Which you so gently to our voices lent When last we spake, Avith fear, so diffident. And now, again, we beg that same kind ear To cheer our hearts and calm that youthful fear. We seek for favor, but ask not applause, Nor do we think to speak by critic's laws. Ladies, expect not actresses to come, With much experience and with glory won ; But wait us, simple, inexperienced youth, Whose falt'ring tongues aim to speak only truth, And while in mimic acts we take a part, Survey us with a kind and friendly heart ; And should our efforts of this eve be vain To please or to amuse, dear ladies deign To judge us gently; all the faults excuse Of trembling pupils, who are not much used To tpcak and act in public on the stage, To edify an audience of this age. Mayhap, in course of time, some here will be As learned and famed as most of those I see ; Our minds may grow, our faculties expand, Our knowledge may extend from land to land. Aye, such as great as Hemans may arise (In song as gifted, and in lore as wise) From out these yomhful, student ranks of ours, To show the world their mind's superior powers. Yes ; then some ghosts of writers, long since dead, May meet superiors soaring in their stead, And fear the'r fame eclipsed, come back again, Revise their musty books re wield their pen. AFTER THE NEWS OF LAFAYETTE'S DEATH, Brave Lafayette ! " The nation's guest," "\^ho came to bless a land now blest, Thy noble heart, of heavenly birth, Revered by all who felt thy worth ; Thy ready true and valiant hand, Reached forth to aid our struggling land, Now throbs no more each pulse is staid, In the chill tomb thy form is laid ; Yet though from earth has fled thy soul, Thy fame shall sound while ages roll, And Lafayette shall ever be Linked with the name of Liberty. LAKE CIIAMPLAIF. "Written after crossing it in 1835. Thy waters, beautiful Champlain, . Were calm and clear ; No wave was seen upon thy main- Nothing to fear. But were it always so with thee, Lakelet serene ? Did ne'er man peiish 'neath thy waves, In tempests keen ? Have not thy surges swelled and foamed An ocean wide ? And has not man thy billows roamed A dangerous tide ? Oh, who can tell what thou wert once ? What thou wilt be ? Perchance thy waters yet may roll A boundless sea. OUR CLASSIC GREEK. "When in distant, future years, We are cast on stranger lands, Childhood's joys and childhood's tears Meni'ry then shall call to mind. The green on which we oft have met Shall we ever then forget ? When by time's fast-fleeting breath All our locks are silv'ry gray; When a part lie cold in death, Sleeping 'neath their kindred clay, Then shall those who linger yet Ere their classic green forget ? Where our halls of science stand, Where our happiest days have fled, Where have oft this youthful band Sat beneath their cooling shade ; There upon our classic green Shall we all e'er meet again ? Land of knowledge land of fame Land of light and liberty, Nations, bowing to thy name, Envy now thy majesty ; Shall we all e'er meet again Here upon thy wide domain 2 THE BACKSLIDING DRUNKARD. His name I will not tell. He was a man ; But oh, he loved the bowl too well, And fearful was its fatal spell, So feirful that the fiends of hell Held him in ban. Kind fiiends he had and true A sister dear, A brother and a mother, too, And anxious prayers ascended new, And tears were shed that he might rue His course with fear. He tried in wisdom's plan Awhile he lived But the foul tempter 'gain began (A tempter in the form of man) To burst fair Reason's envied span Again she fled. And now a drunken sot He treads his way And p-ayers and tears of friends forgot, And friends still dear, he heeds them not, But better loves the outcast's lot, And beggary. HER JEWELS. Of a noble and rich lady. Modesty and virtue were the jewels that she wore, And, conscious of their beauty, she never asked for more ; Unmeaning gold and princely gem she felt could not adorn The soul that for Eternity was destined to be born. * Modesty and virtue her every act confest (No pride of birth or pride of wealth e'er lodged within her breast), And radiant with their purity she shone more sweetly bright Than any earthly diadem beheld by mortal sight. TO THE SAME. Since virtue glistens on thy brow, A gem so sweetly fair, Let heaven's grace accompany Ever the jewel there. MUSINGS. Spoken at school. Who was not born to die ? Whose life will never end ? Whose eye hath never wept ? Who hath not lost a friend ? Alas ! 'Tis vain to ask, methinks I hear thee say ; All must in time depart ; all, all must hence away. To mansions far beyond these climes immortal souls must take their flight, Or far beneath ! (Unhappy thought.) Dying, yet live through endless night. Who hath not disappointment felt ? Whose fond hopes ne'er decay ? Around whom hath adversity ne'er writhed with with- 'rirg sway ? E'en by the child its grasp is felt these ills in human. shape The infant on its mother's breast can scarce be said to 'scape. Why hope we then for happier days below ? Since hope to us will be of no avail. The curtain drops, and lo ! futurity ah, who can read the direful, doleful tale ? Who ha'h not heard the warning voice ? Who hath not felt the conscience speak ? Who hath not watched the pallid brow ? Who hath not marked the hectic cheek ? 25 Ah, none; none must the answer be; sin causes all a pang to feel ; Sorrow and pain here never rest, nor penitence the wound can heal. But we must look far, far beyond these earthly realms to realms unknown ; There happiness takes its abode ; there all that mor- tals wish is flown. ANSWER. Kay, say not thus, dear friend; that brow was never marked wi'h pain ; That eye the tear of sorrow never shed 'tis all in vain To fix thy thoughts on things so distant, so divine, When now thy cup o'erflows with bliss all wished is thine. REPLY. How little dost thou know of earth, thy youth and inex- perience tell ; This heart its anguish cannot speak ; 'tis known by none, yet 'tis as well ; And though this brow and eye so gay and tranquil may to thee appear, Know thou that many a smile plays on the lip When all within would gladly weep, And drop the penitential tear. OLD PICKWAKET, NOW FRYEBURG, ME. A composition. Fryeburg, Me. Impromptu. My friends, as all our text doth know In rhyme to us was given ; So you will all excuse, I trow A rhyiny composition. Please let me then begin my task, To tell about a hero ; His name or place you need not ask, 'Twill soon be all cognito. In seventeen hundred, twenty-five, From Massachusetts came, then, A hero as gallant as brave, And Lovel was his name, ken. He came up through a forest drear, And swamps and bogs and all that, And quartered at a place quite near, Which then they called Pickwaket. But Lovel came not up alone ; No, there were others came, too, With Frye, a chaplain of their own, Who wondrous ! did the same, too. 'Twas on the seventh day of May That they arrived here safely, 27 And on the eighth began a fray, At ten o'clock, so gayly. But ere they did this fray begin, They wandered from their course some, Till they at length two miles had been, To meet an Indian's welcome. 'Twas at this time that Lovel spied, Upon a neck of land near, An Indian in all his pride, Preparing an escort here. He cried, at once, "Take heed, my boys; We soon shall be gallanted, By those whom we had rather not, If he remains undaunted." Then all at once they went to work, And soon their guns did work, too; TVhile he the Indian quite as quick, Two guns did shoot, and run, too. Yet though he run, 'twas all for naught, The English all had feet, too, And soon he found that he was caught, And soon had lost his scalp, too. But here the fracas ended not Their knapsacks had departed ! They took to heels and left the spot "Where they had been deserted. Now, all must know, who use their eyes, These heels they must have borrowed; So these brave men concluded wise That they had been discovered. 28 And hurried, too, they were, I ween, For soon, at least, full fourscore Of the Pickwaket tribe were seen To from their ambush forth pour. Their welcome, to be sure, was hot From hot it hotter grew, though, Till many Indians were shot Till many of them flew, though. This battle, as you, doubtless, see, Commenced they in the morning, Nor did they from the contest flee Until the sun was setting. 'Twas then that to the water's brink A Paugus was escorted, By one called Chamberlain, I think, When one the other challenged. But which it was I've quite forgot, Though Paugus 'twas who paid it; For there he died upon the spot, And none did e'er regret it. Now, as I once before have said, Within this battle, eighty Of Indians there were, but of The English, four and thirty. Yet, though of Englishmen there were But few in point of number, The loss to them was soon made up As they lacked not for valor They beat the Indians, out and out, And ransacked old Pickwaket, 29 Till not a single soul was left To fight for or redeem it. But, I've before my story got, For e'er the battle ended, 'Twas Captain Lovel had been shot, And Chaplain Frye been wounded. And fourteen more there were who found That they were tired of fighting, And prone extended on the ground They seemed, in quiet, resting. And there they rested five days long, When they, at length, were buried (At least, mcthinks, so says the song), And then the rest departed. [Written running, March, 1841 ] 30 TO A SCHOOLMATE IN GORIIAM, ME. Dear friend, like many, we are doomed to part, As we, like many, here on earth have met; But shall the tie that binds a heart to heart Perish by time or wither by neglect? And must we part to meet no more for years To meet, perchance, but in eternity; Or shall we meet within this vale of tears As strangers meet, and pass by silently; Or shall we meet in friendship's warm embrace, Remembered by each other long and well? Whate'er the time, whate'er the way or place, This last fond tale may I be doomed to tell. ANSWER. Aye, friend in joy, we here have met, Within this earthly vale of tears, And now in sorrow we must part, To meet no more perhaps for years To meet (but must it, can it be?) To meet but in eternity. 'Tis hard to leave the friends we love, With this sad destiny in view; 'Tis hard to sever youthful hearts, Enchained by frienship warm and true. But we can meet on heaven's shore, Where friends are doomed to part no more. 31 LOVE. Love! love! Pray what is love? Tell me, oh, ye who feel its witchery. They say that love has charms I do not know And that its object of faults disarms An instance show. I never saw one right in mind and looks; I've only read the thing in fairy books. They say, blind are Love's eyes Can this be true? And that he aims his darts from yon blue skies I wish I knew. I never saw his arrows cleave the air; And yet they say it is a thing not rare. They say that Love is coy I cannot tell; And yet they say that Cupid is a boy Oh, very well. Yet still it is a thing to me most strange That through the world a boy so shy should. range. Oh, naughty little Love! Thou art unkind To reckless aim thy arrows from above, When thou art blind. Poor, silly thing, thou'rt but a name; no more Imagination gives thee life and powder. I'LL TAKE IT BACK. TO LOVE. So, little Mr. Cupid, You think me very stupid, And you really do resent it, And you mean I shall repent it, Because I called you "silly thing," Little boy, with silver wing. So you aimed at me a dart, Thinking it would pierce my heart, Meaning I should make confession That I did commit transgression When I called you " silly thing" Little boy, with silver wing. But, indeed, you were unkind, Little boy, though you were blind, Thus to aim at me love's arrow ; For I own my 'scape was narrow, For I almost felt the sting, Little boy, with silver wing. And I will take back the word Which, unluckily, you heard, Though my heart is safe and sound yet ; And you needn't think to wound it, Because I called you "silly thing," Little boy, with silver wing. 33 THE WORDS OF A BROTHER, DYING AT SEA- SHERIDAN. " Don't leave me don't leave me don't leave me," he cried, " Thus to die here alone on the sea ; Don't leave me don't leave me, but watch by my side, My dear father would were it he. " My father, my father, oh, father, come near ; Is this death that is scorching my brain ? How harsh is his touch, how racking and sear, Yet, Heaven, I must not complain.