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LIBRARY 
 
 OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA. 
 
 Clots 
 
 x libris 
 
 * T.Ul.tces 
 
I It 
 
 IDEALINA: AND OTHER POEMS. 
 
IDEALINA; 
 
 AND 
 
 BY 
 
 HARRY QUILLEM. 
 
 Scm 
 
 PUBLISHED BY COOKE, KENNY & CO. 
 
 MONTGOMERY STREET, CORNER MERCHANT. 
 
 1853. 
 

CONTENTS. 
 
 1. IDEALINA. 
 
 2. THE LOVER S SIGH. 
 
 3. MARY. 
 
 4. SONNETS. 
 
 5. MIDNIGHT MUSINGS. 
 
 6. STANZAS. 
 
 7. UNBIND THIS WREATH. 
 
 8. LOVE UNCHANGING. 
 
 9. OH ! I REMEMBER. 
 
 10. THE MINIATURE. 
 
 11. LA BAGATELLE. 
 
 12. THE GIRL ON COLLINS STREET. 
 
 13. POEM. 
 
 141719 
 
DEDICATION 
 
 TO 
 
 HON. DELOS LAKE. 
 
 IN assuming the liberty of inscribing to you, Sir, the 
 following pages, it is not that they possess any merit 
 entitling them to so flattering and distinguished an en 
 dorsement, but simply as a slight testimonial of sincere 
 friendship, on the part of one, who, however much may 
 be his deficiencies in the style of meritorious composi 
 tion, would desire to give some evidence of his apprecia 
 tion of your kind heart, your cultivated mind, and exalted 
 character. These pages are mostly the product of my 
 Boyhood s fancy, and are replete with the evidences of 
 immatured thought, and I have sought to preserve them, 
 not with the vain hope of being able to rescue them from 
 the merited oblivion to which they are ultimately des 
 tined ; but if, from the partiality of friends, (for whose eyes 
 alone they are intended,) they may at times beguile the 
 
Vlil DEDICATION. 
 
 monotony of duty into the recreation of an hour, I will 
 have realized the full fruition of my wishes. For the 
 realization of this hope, I do not doubt, but that I shall 
 be indebted more to the use of your name, than to any 
 intrinsic excellence the compositions possess. 
 
 With the assurance of my friendly intention, and with 
 the hope that the liberty thus taken will not displease 
 you beyond the favorable prospect of reconciliation, and 
 with an anxious desire for your prosperity and happiness, 
 
 I subscribe myself respectfully, 
 
 Your obedient and 
 
 Humble servant, 
 
 THE AUTHOR. 
 
IDEALIIA: ;- 
 A METEICAL PHANTASIE 
 
 IN FOUR PARTS. 
 
 PART I. y.Mtfcana 
 
 I. 
 
 Our life is all a mystery 
 
 Too subtle for the finite mind, 
 And oftener tis the wish to free 
 
 The thought from the strong chains that bind 
 It to the dark study of earth 
 
 Its good and ill so strangely blended 
 Than take delight in giving birth 
 
 To fancies that may ne er be ended ; 
 Or vainly seeking to discover 
 
 The clue to that forbidden truth, 
 That from the dawn of thought will hover 
 
 In mist around the dreams of youth. 
 
10 IDEALINA. 
 
 And oh, that mystic thing, the heart ! 
 
 How frail its hopes, how strong its fears ! 
 How much of joy it can impart, 
 
 How much of bitterness and tears ! 
 It is the treasury of life 
 
 In which all thought, emotion, feeling 
 Are garnered up, and oft is rife 
 
 With hope and pleasure s sweet revealing 
 But oftner from the book of fate 
 
 It hoards each sorrow s hateful page, 
 Till life and hope are desolate, 
 
 And nought endears earth s pilgrimage. 
 Unless a joy it is to be 
 The slave and curse of MEMORY ! 
 
 The golden visions of our youth ! 
 
 They come and mock us with their spell,- 
 They seem all loveliness and truth, 
 
 But oh, how soon the sad farewell 
 Is taken, and the heart repines 
 
 For pleasures that have pass d away, 
 And hope mourns o er its broken shrines 
 
 That fast are mould ring in decay. 
 
 We hurry on to Manhood s goal 
 
 To grasp the baubles that are there ; 
 
 We flee to age, and yet the soul 
 Turns back to Eden-joys that were, 
 
 When youth s sweet vision of life s morn 
 Was like a sunbeam on the heart, 
 
IDEALINA. 11 
 
 And all the dreams, now faded, gone, 
 
 Elysian raptures did impart. 
 For feverish, restless are the years 
 
 That make up life s maturer prime ; 
 The wrestle and the strife bring tears 
 
 For homage to ambition s shrine ; 
 The tameless passions that are ours 
 
 With flick ring light lead far astray 
 The reason, whose unguarded powers 
 
 They lull to slumber to betray. 
 Oh then, when sated, wearied, palled 
 
 With the feast of earthly bitterness, 
 How often are the dreams recalled 
 
 That came in early youth to bless, 
 And shed o er life a sunny beam 
 
 As bright as passing meteor s gleam, 
 And yet as transient in its light 
 As is that streaming meteor s flight. 
 
 n. 
 
 When life was young, in boyhood s time, 
 
 I clasp d a vision to my heart, 
 Far sweeter than a poet s rhyme, 
 
 And dearer than the minstrel s art ; 
 A dream of youth, and hope and love, 
 
 Of spring-time with its golden hours, 
 When all of earth, around, above, 
 
 Seem d bright as summer s garden flow rs. 
 
12 IDEALINA. 
 
 The heart was fresh and happy then 
 As loves that bask in beauty s rays ; , 
 
 The blight of time had seared within 
 No hope that guiled life s better days, 
 
 Nor then affection s blight had made 
 A wreck of almost every joy, 
 
 Nor reckless passion had essay d 
 Its guiltier powers to employ ; 
 
 But life flowed on, a quiet stream, 
 
 Whose every bubble was a dream 
 Of more than earthly happiness, 
 Or vision of entrancing bliss. 
 
 I loved ! It was no form of earth 
 
 That won my heart s first sunny dream, 
 It seem d that nought of mortal birth 
 
 Could shed that bright and blissful beam 
 Which to the heart was kindly given 
 To make of earth a Poet s Heaven. 
 It was the coinage of the brain, 
 
 The empress of my fancy s realm, 
 To whom I bowed and lisped the strain 
 
 Of youthful love, that seemed to whelm 
 Me in its tide of glowing dreams 
 
 Till life was nought but ecstacy, 
 And Heav n appeared in sunny gleams 
 
 To hold in spell th enraptured eye. 
 I gazed upon that visioned form 
 
 As thus it glowed in fancy s light, 
 And thoughts impassioned, pure and warm, 
 
IDEALINA. 
 
 Sprang up in stern, resistless might, 
 Forcing the haunted heart to be 
 The prey to vain idolatry. 
 
 Oh, how I loved that image fair 
 
 As glassed upon my heart it lay ! 
 More lovely than the Naiads are, 
 
 Or Nymphs that wake the Poet s lay,- 
 There seemed to it a beauty given 
 More gorgeous e en than tints of even. 
 I worshipped with a heart run wild 
 
 With deep excess of love, and then 
 When thus by passion s dreams beguiled, 
 
 And all was burning woe within, 
 I pined in grief that there was none 
 
 Could be that vision s counterpart, 
 No form of earth to be the sun 
 
 Of dreams that throng th adoring heart. 
 
 ill. 
 
 
 
 A bitter doom it is to love 
 
 And know thy love is all in vain ; 
 To feel your own heart deeply move 
 
 And yet no kindred love may gain ; 
 To live uncheered by other s smiles 
 
 When they alone" the least can bless, 
 And know no kindly heart beguiles 
 
 Your own with loving tenderness. 
 2 
 
 13 
 
14 IDEALIKA. 
 
 And bitter tis to be alone, 
 
 To sigh and weep, and vainly yearn 
 For music of some gentle tone 
 
 To which the heart can trusting turn, 
 And drink its stream of earthly bliss, 
 Scarce less than Heaven s happiness ; 
 To feel a thirst we cannot still, 
 
 A hunger that the soul annoys, 
 The restless hope the feverish thrill 
 
 The wild and longing wish for joys 
 That fortune dooms to be unsated 
 
 The anxious struggle, and the woe 
 To every disappointment fated 
 
 That e er can reach the heart below, 
 Compared to this, e en death would seem 
 
 To be a sweet, refreshing sleep, 
 Whose one unbroken sunny dream, 
 
 Would leave the heart no more to weep. 
 
 Oh, I have felt the madd ning spell 
 
 This chainless impulse to aspire ; 
 Have felt the agony and hell 
 
 That mocking wait on vain desire ; 
 Have wished, till wish became a curse 
 
 From which my thoughts I could not free, 
 A dark and horrid phantom-nurse, 
 
 To haunt the cells of memory. 
 I longed for that ideal love 
 
 That claimed the homage of my soul, 
 The being whom I deemed would prove 
 
IDEALINA. 15 
 
 The heart s best prize and blissful goal ; 
 And still I worshipped on, and still 
 
 The aching void was in my heart, 
 Which time, nor strength, nor hope could fill,. 
 
 Or dream of pleasure once impart ; 
 It is a bitter doom to be 
 
 The sport and child of misery ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 As years grew on, I felt my brow 
 
 With shade of cank ring thought o ercast, 
 The thought that lingered on the vow 
 
 And vision of the early past, 
 The secret longing I had nursed, 
 
 The struggle and the heart s aspirings, 
 And all the tumult that at first 
 
 Gave token of the soul s desirings. 
 My nature that was coined in love, 
 
 Still fed upon its passion-food, 
 Which sweet, though dimly understood, 
 
 Seemed types and tokens from above ; 
 For love is something not of earth, 
 
 A yearning for the good denied, 
 It owns a bright Elysian birth 
 
 And there by angels deified ; 
 It is the restless, vain desire 
 
 For what on earth may not be given, 
 Th unbodied wishes that inspire 
 
16 IDEALINA. 
 
 The fondest hopes and dreams of Heaven. 
 For who can truly love, and feel 
 
 The heart s wild visions all possessed, 
 Or deem that passion can reveal 
 
 No wish with deeper joy impressed ? 
 T were vain ! Love never grants the full 
 
 Of bliss or rapture it inspires, 
 But leaves unsated still the soul 
 
 That s racked with fond and vain desires. 
 These are alike our bliss and doom, 
 
 The sweeter life we sometimes feel, 
 And then, the shadow and the tomb 
 
 Of hopes that lur d us with their spell 
 When earth was to our charmed eyes 
 The dream of early paradise. 
 Enough ! I loved, and could not quell 
 
 The flame that glowed within my soul, 
 Tho oft I strove to break the spell 
 
 That o er me had such strange control. 
 And oft amid the war of life 
 
 Where fierce, contending passions ruled, 
 The anxious struggle and the strife 
 
 In which the baffled thought is schooled, 
 I ve turned me from ambition s dream 
 
 And flatt ring hopes of worldly power, 
 To linger on that visioned beam 
 
 Of happiest light to Boyhood s hour. 
 I ve paused to worship o er again 
 
 The earliest idol of the heart, 
 And when from busy haunts of men 
 
IDEALINA. 17 
 
 I ve wander d from all else apart, 
 Fve knelt at that dear, hallowed shrine 
 
 Where thou dost reign my soul s ideal 
 And heedless asked thee to be mine, 
 
 As though of earth thou could st be real ! 
 I knew twas folly, madness all, 
 
 But slave to thy mysterious power, 
 How vainly would I flee the thrall, 
 
 Or make less consecrate the hour. 
 
 Tis strange, that boyhood s sunny dream ! 
 
 Tis strange, the heart s first vow was given 
 To one who lived in fancy s gleam 
 
 To type the beauteous forms of Heaven. 
 But stranger still, that when long years 
 
 Of hapless anguish and of love, 
 Had left the soul all drowned in tears, 
 
 And grief did my devotion prove, 
 The reign of joy should come at last 
 
 And transport fill the soul s glad streams 
 For I have met, what in the past 
 
 Was but the angel of my dreams ! 
 That sweet embodiment of light 
 
 I ve gazed upon with earthly vision, 
 And then did flee the spirit s night 
 
 Which clouded hopes of birth Elysian, 
 And leaped the heart exultingly 
 
 At thought ANGELICA of thee ! 
 
 *2 
 
18 IDEALINA, 
 
 PART 11. 
 
 Can earthly form or shape compare 
 
 With that which fancy bodies forth ? 
 Can aught e er be as wondrous fair 
 
 As that being of ideal worth, 
 Which lives and glows, and brightly beams 
 The soul of our entrancing dreams ? 
 The Naiad of the sunny stream, 
 The Nymph of Grecian minstrel s dream, 
 The Dryad of the grassy dell, 
 And Peri of the pearly shell, 
 Are creatures of poetic mind, 
 
 And emblem all that s pure and fair ; 
 But can their beauties all combined, 
 
 Or fabled spirits of the air, 
 In life a mortal being find 
 Like them so lovely and refined ? 
 Oh,- brighter far than love s first dream 
 
 The image that my soul has glassed. 
 
IDEALINA. 19 
 
 Brighter than fancy s sunlit gleam 
 
 The vision to my heart is clasped ; 
 Ay, fairer is my earthly love 
 
 Than aught was e er to fancy s seeming^ 
 And lovelier than the thoughts that wove 
 
 The web of boyhood s early dreaming ! 
 I saw and looked my soul s amaze, 
 
 That earth should boast an angel form, 
 And worship drank in every gaze, 
 
 Thus locked in spell of beauty s charm, 
 And felt that fortune then had given 
 The heart its sweetest glimpse of Heaven ! 
 
 ANGELICA ! Twas joy to see 
 
 Thee, radiant as the sun of hope, 
 
 That with its magic beams awoke 
 The Memnon of Love s minstrelsy ! 
 Twas joy to feel that thou wert near. 
 
 And drink in rapture from the vision, 
 To own how sweet the Heaven here 
 
 To which the smile gave joy Elysian, 
 And be in heart and soul sincere, 
 Thy fondest, truest worshipper. 
 
 A strange, mysterious power there is 
 
 In e en the accents of thy name, 
 A spell of dearer happiness 
 
 Than visions of serenest fame ; 
 For who can love, and yet not own, 
 
 As oft is heard the loved one s name, 
 
20 IDEALINA. 
 
 A thrill as sweet as music tone 
 
 That o er the heart in childhood came ? 
 The sound at once enchains the thought 
 
 As by a moonbeam s softened spell, 
 And with an influence tis fraught 
 
 Resistless as the ocean s swell, 
 In binding with a stronger chain 
 The heart that beats its bars in vain ! 
 Oh, I adore each word that makes 
 
 Of thy loved name a treasured part, 
 And every syllable creates 
 
 An added bliss within the heart, 
 And when I ve heard them all complete 
 
 And lisp d e en by a stranger tongue, 
 Love s fond emotions throng d to greet 
 The sound so softly, strangely sweet, 
 
 Whereon the heart in transport hnng. 
 
 To know this being is to love ; 
 
 Twere vain to flee from love s control, 
 For every pulse would chime, and move 
 
 To homage the adoring soul. 
 Though shapes of angel beauty flowed 
 
 Upon the thought mid sunny dreams, 
 And though the faultless canvass glowed 
 
 Neath fancy s brush of golden beams, 
 Twere vain the picture there to see 
 
 Of her my life s idolatry 
 For fancy is a finite power, 
 
 A power that is not limitless, 
 
IDBALINA. 21 
 
 While her s is nature s richest dower 
 Perfections infinite, to bless 
 And heaven created loveliness. 
 
 II. 
 
 I ever worship at the shrine 
 
 Of all that s beautiful and fair, 
 And o er the fond heart s sadden d clime 
 
 The joy-beam breaks and lingers there, 
 To show how pure and deep may be 
 For such, the soul s idolatry. 
 The mountain summit bathed in clouds ; 
 
 The cliff that braves the wintry storm, 
 And in its rugged fastness shrouds 
 
 The Genii of romantic charm ; 
 The vale that blooms in vernal pride ; 
 
 The landscape blending every hue, 
 And fraught with fragrant charms beside 
 
 T attract the homage that is due ; 
 The foliage of summer trees ; 
 
 The unclosed bud, the spreading leaf ; 
 The streamlet s varied harmonies ; 
 
 The flower bursting from its sheath ; 
 The fountain bubbling up in song ; 
 
 The music of earth s welling springs ; 
 The murm ring sounds that glide along 
 
 O er orange glades ; the bird that sings ; 
 The stars that gem the vaulted sky 
 
22 IDEALINA. 
 
 Its rich adornment and its pride ; 
 Its walls of vast immensity, 
 
 And all Earth s glorious pomp beside, 
 Have e er for me a charm as sweet 
 
 As loving tones affection hath, 
 And as enduring and complete 
 
 As woman s pure, unsullied faith. 
 
 I gaze upon the hallowed stars 
 
 Whose loveliness enrapts the eye 
 The tumult of the spirit s wars 
 
 Is calmed as by a lullaby ; 
 The tide of eloquence they pour 
 
 Of Music, Poetry and Love, 
 Fall on the heart like silver shower 
 
 Of moonbeams from their source above. 
 And charmed streams in sweetness roll 
 
 O er secret haunts of raptured soul. 
 I gaze upon the blushing flower 
 
 That sparkles in the dew-drop s blaze 
 In glow of morning s early hour, 
 
 That brightens all things neath its rays ; 
 Then too, a silent pleasure steals 
 
 In magic softness o er the heart, 
 Whose kindly influence e er reveals 
 
 The presence of refining art. 
 I ve seen the rainbow, as its form 
 
 Was mirrored in the water-drop, 
 Sparkle most beauteously and bright 
 Beneath the sunbeams glowing light, 
 
IDEALINA. 23 
 
 And harp-strains of emotions warm 
 
 Within the heart were then awoke > 
 It seemed that some mysterious breath 
 
 Had touched its lyre s sweetest strings, 
 And answered with its music wealth, 
 
 Awaking all the soul s deep springs, 
 And was much sweeter, far, than tones 
 
 With which the zephyr s breath abounds, 
 As long the hush of eve it comes 
 
 To waken soft JBolian sounds. 
 
 But what s the livery ef Heaven, 
 
 Its clouds that look so silv ry fair, 
 The iris tints of summer even 
 
 That blend in mystic beauty rare : 
 And what the myriad forms of earth 
 
 That win upon the outward sense, 
 To that deep charm that has its birth 
 
 Within the shrine of innocence 
 That spell of loveliness that binds 
 
 Us by a strength to earth uncommon, 
 And in each beauteous object finds 
 
 Reflected light from peerless woman. 
 She is the centre of our dreams, 
 
 The sun to which turns every thought, 
 
 And makes all things with music fraught, 
 
 Like Memnon s statue that of old 
 
 When felt the rising sun of gold 
 Sang out to its impinging beams. 
 
24 IDEALIST A. 
 
 III. 
 
 * 
 
 The idol that I loved was not 
 
 What I could deem of mortal birth ; 
 
 So pure, without a stain or spot, 
 
 She seemed of Heaven and not of Earth. 
 
 There are faces we sometimes meet 
 So witching with expression sweet, 
 That human power would essay 
 In vain their beauties to portray 
 Would e en the glittering canvass shame. 
 That vaunted mockingly a claim 
 To image them in truthful light 
 Upon its sheen of purest white, 
 E en tho with magic pencil drawn 
 That paints the rosy tints of dawn, 
 Or brush to fancy only known 
 Dipp d in sunbeams of breathless noon. 
 They do not come upon the heart 
 As with the thunder s sudden start, 
 Nor like a torrent madly roll 
 Into the channels of the soul ; 
 But like affection s fondest dream, 
 Their angel-loveliness doth seem 
 To sink with softness in the heart, 
 Becoming through all time a part 
 Of visions that will ever be 
 The haunting spells of memory. 
 
IDEALINA. 25 
 
 We gaze, and feasts the eye the while 
 On beauty s soft, endearing smile, 
 And feel the answ ring look enthrall 
 The mind and heart and senses all 
 As with a chain of charms as bright 
 As visions of a summer night. 
 The kindly offered hand we press 
 And feel a thrill of happiness ; 
 A stream of joy intensely glide 
 Into the soul s impassioned tide, 
 Whose every bound ry overflows, 
 
 And channels deepen where it goes.. 
 
 The angel type enchants the eyes 
 
 And on the heart its image lies, 
 
 And as we gaze the bosom warms 
 
 To clasp its luxury of charms. 
 
 We feel the mystic presence near, 
 
 We own it to the bosom dear, 
 
 The Heaven in her look we see 
 
 And orbs that kindle lovingly ; 
 
 But oh, to image them that all 
 
 May see what holds the heart in thrall, 
 
 Or to another s eye portray 
 
 The heart s enchanting light of day 
 
 How deep s the poverty of thought 
 
 To soar on eagle pinions taught, 
 
 And poor the minstrelsy of words 
 
 Tho flung from Music s sweetest chords. 
 3 
 
26 IDEALINA. 
 
 As difficult twould be to limn 
 
 The likeness of the smiling queen, 
 
 As e er with languaged skill essay 
 
 My love s attractions to. portray. 
 
 The sun of eighteen summers shone 
 
 Upon her beauty s peerless throne, 
 
 And seasons rare they must have been 
 
 Of joy, and rapture s sweetest dream, 
 
 For on her brow no shadow came 
 
 To dim the glory of its reign. 
 
 Her features were as softly sweet 
 
 As day-beam ever joyed to greet, 
 
 Or any moulded by the clime 
 
 Where love is lisp d in minstrel s rhyme, 
 
 Blending the hue of fairest rose 
 
 With loveliest tint the lily knows, 
 
 And fairer far than sweetest bloom 
 
 That smiles beneath the summer noon, 
 
 Or aught that e er propitious grew 
 
 Neath gales perfumed with morning dew 
 
 Its fragrant incense born to rise 
 
 In homage to its genial skies. 
 
 Her eye was dark as noon of night, 
 
 When moon and stars were out of sight, 
 
 Whose lash but part concealed below 
 
 A lid as white as driven snow, 
 
 And from those orbs each wand ring beam 
 
 Brought memory of some sunny dream. 
 
 O er her fair brow the raven tress 
 
 Hung down in braided loveliness, 
 
IDEALINA. 27 
 
 The bloom of youth s Idalian rose 
 
 Upon her cheek found sweet repose, 
 
 And trembling blushes nestling there. 
 
 Showed her sinless as angels are. 
 
 The rich lip, ruddy, fresh and fair, 
 
 And lapped in odors of the air, 
 
 With tempting beauty, sweet and warm,* 
 
 Invited to its glowing charm, 
 
 And in each dimple s fairy cell 
 
 The monarch of the smile did dwell, 
 
 And hallow its delicious reign 
 
 By wreathing weird enchantment s chain. 
 
 So small and delicate the waist, 
 
 A zone of fairy might have clasped ; 
 
 The hand was in concealment thrown 
 
 Within the pressure of your own ; 
 
 She moves ! the air that breathless roves, 
 
 Now sighs in homage as she moves ! 
 
 She smiles ! the pulses lightly bound 
 
 As to the strains of Syrian sound ! 
 
 She speaks ! tis like the music sweet 
 
 That comes in dreams the heart to greet 
 
 A melody of richer tone 
 
 Than aught to music ever known, 
 
 Or breathings of divinest love 
 
 That can the soul with rapture move, 
 
 And sweet as angel harmonies 
 
 From blissful bowers of paradise. 
 
 There s in her look and mien 
 
 A majesty that s seldom seen, 
 
28 IDEALINA. 
 
 And in her eyes 1 a power doth lie 
 To make e en vice to virtue fly ; 
 The rashly erring heart would win* 
 From path of folly and of sin, 
 For wickedness could never live 
 Within the light those planets give, 
 0r mask its hideousness the while 
 Within the radiance of her smile, 
 But turn and rend itself in shame 
 That e er it bore a sullied name. 
 All these, the human beauties were 
 That claimed me an idolater, 
 The clust ring charms around her flung 
 On which Hope s freshest garlands hung, 
 And made the more enchanting real 
 Than fancy s fondest, loved ideal ! 
 
 But better far than angel face, 
 Luxuriant form and winning grace, 
 Than deep dark eye and conqu ring smile, 
 And lips reposing love the while, 
 And dimpling blushes that betray 
 Emotions in the heart at play, 
 And all the beauties that invite 
 The sense, and charm th enraptured sight, 
 Was that deep glow that brightly shone 
 Where mind has its imperial throne, 
 To which the heart owned sweet control 
 As homage to the hallowing soul. 
 
iDEALINA. 29 
 
 Her thoughts that were with love refined, 
 
 Breathed tenderness to all mankind, 
 
 And in the heart a fountain lay 
 
 By kindness wrought to beaded spray, 
 
 Which showed its silver tide to be 
 
 The flow of purest sympathy. 
 
 And though more lovely than the lymph 
 
 Of glassy stream or fountain nymph, 
 
 Yet mildly on her peerless brow 
 
 The sunbeam fell with modest glow, 
 
 And in her smile the want of art 
 
 Portrayed the innocence of heart. 
 
 Ay, modest as the fading beam 
 
 The moon sheds o er the laughing stream, 
 
 And guileless as the sportive fay 
 
 That revels in the starry ray, 
 
 A soft enchantment round her threw 
 
 Hope s blossoms moist with Eden dew, 
 
 And spell of witchery too was given 
 
 To charm the thoughts with love and Heaven, 
 
 Oh, in her presence one could feel 
 That Eden did its sun reveal, 
 And as you walked with her alone 
 Beneath the radiance of the moon, 
 And in the loved and quiet light 
 Of stars that gem the azure night, 
 There seemed a sweet, faint music near 
 Of beams from every starry sphere,, 
 *3 
 
30 IDEALINA. 
 
 Like whispers of -ZEolian strings 
 When fanned by seraphs golden wings, 
 Amid the bowers that bloom above 
 And singing of an angel s love ! 
 
IDEALINA. 31 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 or 
 
 PART III, 
 
 1. 
 
 WHAT is that weird, controlless feeling 
 
 Which gives new impulse to the soul 
 That hope of better life revealing, 
 
 The heart aspiring makes its goal ? 
 What power is that which wakes desires 
 
 That haunt the craving, restless spirit. 
 And vain as oft, yet still aspires 
 
 For that, ne er fated to inherit ? 
 Tis love the ready heart responds 
 
 But what is this controlling love, 
 Of which the dreaming thought abounds, 
 
 And makes each pulse to music move ? 
 
 In lore that reaches from the past, 
 The dreamy lore of years long gone, 
 
 Tis taught that man by fate was cast 
 From glories of a brighter home ; 
 
32 IDEALINA, 
 
 That in another state he shared 
 
 A bliss to lowly earth ne er giv n, 
 And all his present joys are marred . 
 
 By dreamings of a former Heav n , 
 That thought, hope, fancy feeling, all, 
 
 The powers that we now possess, 
 Are what but to the soul recall 
 
 The memories of an Eden bliss ; 
 And that each hoarded truth we learn, 
 
 Revives but some forgotten thought, 
 And all the good for which we yearn 
 
 Is from that bright existence caught. 
 
 Is it not so ? Do we not feel 
 
 That in this fond Athenian dream, 
 There are emotions which reveal 
 
 A sparkle of truth s glimm ring beam ? 
 Can aught in life awaken e er 
 
 Those longings vain and vague desires 
 That ever haunt us strangely here, 
 
 When love our ardent dreams inspires ? 
 The heart that owns to passion s sway, 
 
 And in the light of fancy lives, 
 Finds more of happiness in its ray 
 
 Than aught that worldly pleasure gives 
 Tis lighted up with brighter gleams 
 
 Than charm the lowly sphere of earth, 
 And filled with more enchanting dreams 
 
 Than such dull life has given birth. 
 
IDEALINA. 
 
 Then who can say that love is not 
 
 The brightest mem ry we retain 
 Of glories of that brighter lot 
 
 Which dimly it revives again ? 
 Though fond ambition may aspire 
 
 To reach the loftiest goal of mind, 
 And waken too the vague desire, 
 
 And longing that on earth we find, 
 Tis but a fainter thought revived 
 
 Within the shade of passion s fane, 
 Where all that may be has survived 
 
 Of memory of our blissful reign. 
 The heart that loves, and truly loves, 
 
 Brings brighter visions to the sight, 
 And giving all things beauty, moves 
 
 The soul to homage and delight, 
 And owns within a newer birth 
 
 Of feelings that will not decay, 
 A something that is not of earth, 
 
 Nor perishable with its clay, 
 A pining for a brighter sphere 
 Of which it has the memory here, 
 
 The restless wish and wasting sigh 
 
 To still enjoy its native sky. 
 
 II. 
 
 The fair ANGELICA, I loved 
 With that intensity of soul, 
 
34 IDEALINA, 
 
 Which to all other passion proved 
 
 The pure and fond heart s only goal. 
 She was to me a mystic light 
 
 Which wizzard fancy had created, 
 To shine upon the deepened night 
 
 Of passion to the heart prefated ; 
 And oh, I worshipped it as one 
 
 Would e er adore the moon-borne tide 
 Of silvery beams that brighter shone 
 
 As for the loved one by the side, 
 When with its stream the words of love 
 
 Mingled in one harmonious flow. 
 And all the beaming worlds above 
 
 Seemed listening to its music low ; 
 Or as the lone heart s evening star 
 
 That sheds its cheering light within, 
 And hushing feelings that would mar 
 
 The spirit s calm repose, or win 
 The gloss from sweetest memories, 
 
 Which are like sunbeams brightly cast 
 Upon the stream of thought that lies 
 
 In lustre of the visioned past. 
 
 I gazed, and o er the heart, the rush 
 Of thoughts like golden fancies came, 
 
 And idol-memories would gush 
 Within the soul, a summer stream 
 
 That flowed with music in each wave, 
 Like rivulet o er sounding shells, 
 
IBEALINA. 35 
 
 As sweet as visions that e er gave 
 
 To youth and hope their garland-spells. 
 Fond love ! Thou art the young heart s dream, 
 
 Its solace in a world of care, 
 Its hope and bliss, its sunny gleam 
 
 That makes all things beauteous and fair ! 
 Beneath its spell I ve wandered forth 
 
 Amid the summer s laureled fields, 
 And found a more enchanting worth 
 
 In all the wealth that nature yields ; 
 The petals of the blooming flower 
 
 Did seem to wear a richer sheen ; 
 The landscape slept beneath a shower 
 
 Of beams that lit a brighter scene ; 
 The woods with all their foliaged wealth 
 
 Gave forth a thousand sunnier dyes ; 
 The air that roved as twere by stealth 
 
 Sighed out in sweetest harmonies ; 
 And beauty reigned on all around 
 
 Triumphant in its proud display, 
 And caused the lightened heart to bound 
 
 Neath its and love s delicious sway. 
 The silver streamlet leaped along 
 
 As gleesome as a fairy s revel, 
 And birds poured forth their tide of song 
 
 That o er the spirit s realm would travel. 
 And leave in each successive flow 
 
 A rapture and a memory 
 The heart of love can only know, 
 
 And feelings that can never die. 
 
36 IDEALINA. 
 
 All these did minister to love, 
 
 Supplying it with angel-food, 
 The thoughts dim-visioned from above 
 
 And pinings for a heavenly good. 
 The heart o ergushing with its tide 
 
 Of rich affection, spread o er earth 
 An Eden splendor, and the pride 
 
 Of glories free from Autumn dearth, 
 And thus, twas happiness to live 
 
 Amid a paradise of bloom, 
 And feel all things in bounty give 
 
 A re"fuge from the waste of gloom. 
 
 And well it is for life s young heart 
 That love is not forbidden there, 
 For sweetest joys it can impart 
 
 Amid a world of gloom and care. 
 And well, that fond affection s stream 
 Its fleshly bounds should overflow, 
 And give the magic of a dream 
 To life amid its waste of woe. 
 For love within the heart confined 
 
 Will stagnate in its fettered sphere, 
 Like streams which circling mountains bind, 
 
 Though full, all motionless appear ; 
 But when it finds a kindred heart, 
 
 And breaks the bounds that pent its flow, 
 It bears rich treasures that impart 
 
 A joy tis happiness to know. 
 Oh thus, did seek my soul s deep tide 
 
IDBALINA. 37 
 
 The channel of my idol s thought, 
 And gushing in its wealth of pride 
 
 Bore music to the shrine it sought. 
 On her, the radiant earthly type 
 
 Of early fancy s fond revealings, 
 I threw my hope with passion ripe, 
 
 And all affection s noblest feelings 
 And recked not of the world s vain glow 
 In dreainings of a Heaven below. 
 
 in. 
 
 I woo d the loved ! the beautiful ! 
 
 I gazed upon her peerless brow 
 With heart of love and hope, as full 
 
 As is the soul of mem ries now. 
 I looked into her deep dark eyes 
 
 That shed within the heart a light 
 Like twilight star s o er paradise, 
 
 When all with golden glow is bright, 
 And poured the hoarded treasures forth 
 
 That love had garnered in its store 
 The sum of rich affection s worth 
 
 That longed with miser wish for more 
 The thoughts that wildly, sweetly gush 
 
 From pent up fountains of the heart, 
 Like sunny streamlet a as they rush 
 
 From hidden spr-h. ,. vith sudden start 
 4 
 
88 IDEALINA. 
 
 The solemn feelings that belong 
 
 To the fond soul that passion moves, 
 And all the dreams that ever throng 
 
 Upon the heart of one who loves 
 Like softened sounds of twilight wave, 
 
 Or dewy foliage whispering low, 
 Her voice came o er the heart and gave 
 
 A thrill of happiness to its flow, 
 And smiles passed o er the sunlit soul 
 
 Like zephyrs soft o er blooming flowers, 
 For passion now had won its goal, 
 
 And linked in one the hearts of ours. 
 
 We loved! Oh, all that Poets feign 
 
 To know of Heav n was in my heart, 
 And then did Music s spirit reign 
 
 Exulting in its blissful art. 
 There is no rapture known to earth, 
 
 No ecstacy that life can coin, 
 No happiness that has its birth 
 
 In which the human heart may join, 
 Like that the ardent lover feels 
 
 When first he learns the magic truth, 
 That love of kindred heart reveals 
 
 The wish attained that haunted youth. 
 To worship with the heart s devotion 
 
 An idol Passion has created, 
 To lavish all the deep emotion 
 
 With which the soul may ne er be sated- 
 
IDEALINA. 39 
 
 To bow before the hallowed shrine 
 
 Of one who did an angel seem, 
 Too pure and fair to link with time 
 
 The blissful hope of wedlock s dream, 
 And know thy yearning s not in vain 
 
 Brings paradise within the soul. 
 And throws o er passion s earthly stain 
 
 The light its garden blooms control. 
 
 We loved ! and love became the food 
 
 Of every thought, the only dream 
 That fraught link d life with seeming good, 
 
 Or gave to earth a pleasure-gleam 
 And all the yearnings that I knew 
 
 The meanings of a severed heart 
 Were hushed as it became anew 
 
 Of its original a part. 
 And then all artless grew our love 
 
 Our eyes beamed confidence on each ; 
 And hearts in bliss together wove 
 
 Held converse free from passion s reach, 
 And knew nor jealousy, nor fear, 
 
 But felt the peace of faithful hearts, 
 And high-born feelings that appear 
 
 Like music of seraphic harps, 
 The earth and air, and sea and sky, 
 
 And all the worlds that beamed above, 
 Seemed rich with sweetest melody, 
 
 And typed the holiness of love ; 
 
40 IDEALINA. 
 
 And from them all were gathered words 
 
 And im ges of affection s truth, 
 And thoughts, that came like summer birds, 
 
 From mem 7 ry- haunted realms of youth. 
 And even now, though time has flown 
 
 Like meteor long the track of night, 
 And feelings have more earthly grown, 
 
 Since all is wrecked that gave delight, 
 And mid the world I ve vainly sought 
 
 A solace for my spirit s tears, 
 And gone the hues my fancy caught 
 
 With which to paint the future years- 
 Yet Mem ry disentombs the past, 
 
 And from the sepulchre of dreams 
 And fancies that o er life were cast 
 
 Mid lustre of Hope s sunny gleams, 
 A low, faint voice comes stealing o er 
 
 The heart, like melodies of youth, 
 When earth and sun and planets wore 
 
 The Heavenly sheen of love and truth. 
 
 IV. 
 
 We often met ! but not amid 
 
 The gaze of such as could not know 
 
 How holy the affection hid 
 
 Within the heart s warm current flow I 
 
 We could not brook that other eyes 
 Should pry into the soul s recess, 
 
IDEALINA. 41 
 
 And penetrate the treasured guise . : 
 
 That masked each ardent, loving breast. 
 For love is timid, and would riot 
 
 Be subject for the idler s jeer, 
 Or have thus marred the peaceful lot 
 
 That Hope did to itself endear, 
 But shrinks with modest awe from rude 
 
 Surmises, yet more rudely given, 
 And seeks its own sweet solitude, 
 
 And blisses of its lonely heaven. 
 We met and drew inspiring breath 
 
 From every breeze that floated by, 
 And drank the summer s hoarded wealth 
 
 Of sweets from flowers blooming nigh. 
 And deep within the soul of each, 
 
 Fond thoughts like stillest waters lay, 
 And from the eye was all the speech 
 
 That oft affection would essay ; 
 For in the heart of love, the wave 
 
 Doth sometimes make its silent flow, 
 And though its tide is oft the grave 
 
 In which the art of words lies low, 
 Yet thought doth take its quiet way 
 
 Reflected in the placid stream, 
 And all the hush d emotions lay 
 
 In lustre of affection s beam. 
 We ve strolled beside the silver lake 
 
 When crimson skies have fled away, 
 And evening zephyr s softly wake 
 
 The blooms that neath the moonlight lay, 
 4* 
 
42 IDEALINA, 
 
 And standing far above its wave, 
 
 With warm emotions in the soul, 
 Have gazed as on a glass that gave 
 
 The likeness of the worlds that roll 
 In beauty and in pride above, 
 
 While we, midway, did seem to stand 
 In sphere, like magic fairy land, 
 
 That fancy formed alone for love. 
 And there we ve listened to the song 
 
 Of flowers, and night bird s roundelay, 
 And star-borne tide of beams that throng 
 
 The heart, and to its music sway 
 Would yield our spirits, as to sounds 
 
 That floated far from Eden bowers, 
 Each note of which with bliss abounds 
 
 To halcyon the fleeting hours. 
 Those peerless hours ! What joy they brought ! 
 
 They came and passed so softly by, 
 That not a foot-print on the thought 
 
 Betrayed the sign that they were nigh ! 
 The Hours are Deities that time 
 
 Has given to the quiet spirit, 
 When life not yet has soiled the shrine 
 
 Of joys, that youth and hope inherit ; 
 And oh, when all is calm within, 
 
 And sleeps the heart in love s repose, 
 We feel their sound of music win 
 
 A thrilling rapture as it flows, 
 And thoughts come forth from spirit-bowers. 
 
 In homage to their idol Hours ! 
 
IDEALINA. 48 
 
 Thus time passed on, but could not dim 
 
 The fervor of that flame which glowed 
 In mutual bosoms, and the hymn 
 
 Of voiced affection sweetly flowed 
 Upon the hush of twilight hour, 
 
 Like soft airs borne on music wings, 
 To breathe upon the slumb ring flower, 
 
 And waken love s imaginings. 
 For love had giv n me higher aims, 
 
 A thirsting breast and vast desire, 
 A spirit mounting up in dreams 
 
 Which bade the slumb ring soul aspire. 
 I felt a more ennobled heart, 
 
 An impulse that exalts, refines, 
 High thoughts and instincts that impart 
 
 Sweet incense to affection s shrines. 
 Within the heart a thousand feelings 
 
 Came welling from the fount of love, 
 And visions, that did seem revealings, 
 
 Though dim and vague, were from above ; 
 And earth did take the sunny hue 
 
 Of glory, and ambition s dream, 
 And fame its lavish sun-light threw 
 
 O er hopes were nursed in fairy realm. 
 I gazed upon some distant goal, 
 
 From which the heart, unloving, shrinks, 
 
44 IDEALINA. 
 
 But loving, rouses all the soul 
 
 That from the spring of passion drinks, 
 
 And then did seek in pride to win 
 A name that on the world might shine 
 
 With light of goodness free from sin 
 Fit offering for my idol s shrine ! 
 
 As fast as time sped on, our love 
 
 Became jet brighter and more strong, 
 And all of nature seem d to move 
 
 In concert with affection s song. 
 Our hearts were as two gentle streams 
 
 That mingled all their wealth in one 
 Our soul s were filled with kindred dreams 
 
 Awaked from life s one chord alone ; 
 Our fancies formed a paradise 
 
 O er which the purest love held sway, 
 And Hope amid its dews would rise 
 
 To welcome each approaching day, 
 And through the night bring visions sweet 
 
 Of birds and flowers, and songs of love, 
 And beauty such as angels meet 
 
 In bow rs of Amaranth above. 
 Thus, life to us was golden bright, 
 
 With music in each breath of air, 
 And from the future peered a light 
 
 To show the Heav n love pictured there ! 
 
IDEALINA. 45 
 
 PART IV. 
 
 I. 
 
 TIME waned ! Oh, what a world of thought 
 
 Lies in the circle of those words ! 
 How much of bliss or woe is brought 
 
 To strike upon the spirit s chords, 
 And make them give forth music tones 
 
 Of joy and hope and happiness, 
 Or answer to the thrilling moans 
 
 Awakened by the heart s distress. 
 The stream of time flows on, and though 
 
 No ripple crisps its peaceful wave, 
 Its surface all unmoved will show 
 
 The wreck of hopes it early gave 
 Of joys that once did gaily float 
 
 Upon its bosom s swelling pride, 
 And feelings that affection wrought, 
 
 Now borne on its oblivious tide. 
 
IDEALINA. 
 
 Time waned ! A few short months had flown 
 
 That glided by on rapture s wing, 
 When all to earth of heaven was known 
 
 The happiness that time could bring 
 Perish d like blooms neath autumn airs, 
 
 And all to manhood s eye was gloom, 
 And life grew up with thronging cares 
 
 That marred the beauty of its bloom, 
 For o er the heart a Samiel came, 
 
 That withered all that blossom d there, 
 And left it nothing but the name 
 
 The waste, the desert of despair ! 
 
 The transient bubble of the wave 
 
 I ve seen in magic beauty rise, 
 And then its mirroring surface gave 
 
 The imag ry of the morning skies ; 
 It seemed a world of life and light, 
 
 Illumined by a mimic sun, 
 Its floating clouds looked silv ry white, 
 
 And fair it was to gaze upon, 
 But soon a breath dissolved the spell, 
 
 And all its mimic beauty fled, 
 The tiny sun in darkness fell 
 
 A world of magic splendor dead ! 
 And thus it is with time which brings 
 
 Fond dreams to lure the trusting soul, 
 A world of bright imaginings 
 
 Which make the pure heart s highest goal, 
 
IDEALINA. 
 
 Then bubble-like, a wave of air 
 
 Dissolves the blissful period s charm, 
 And life with hope no longer warm, 
 
 Awakes the frenzy of despair. " 
 
 It may be there are those who live 
 
 Within the sphere of fancied bliss, 
 Whose very sorrows to them give 
 
 The joy and happiness of this ; 
 But such there are who feel desire, 
 
 A deep, a yearning curse within, 
 Whose every thought glows with a fire 
 
 Some high and fancied goal to win; 
 Who live indeed in fancy s realm 
 
 And clasp in every cloud a vision, 
 Whose life is but one constant dream, 
 
 And pinings for a bliss Elysian. 
 They yield to some unbodied thought 
 
 The worship of life s holiest time, 
 And every feeling, wish, is fraught 
 
 With homage to some ideal shrine, 
 For whose divinity they yearn, 
 
 And waste their life in vain desirings, 
 For seldom earthly shapes may turn 
 
 To what called forth the soul s aspirings. 
 But if the bodied form is found, 
 
 Which lived in fancy s glowing light 
 If earth should chance within its bound 
 
 To hold the spell that breaks the night 
 
48 IDEAL1NA. 
 
 Of pinings vague for bliss below, 
 
 And such a spirit learns to love, 
 To feel deep passion s burning glow 
 
 For one of earth, but born above 
 And then the love of each be plighted 
 
 What rapturous bliss is there ! 
 But if affection s hops be blighted, 
 
 What guage can measure its despair ? 
 
 ii. 
 
 I saw and loved the idol sun 
 
 O er fancy s growing realm that shone, 
 I bowed before the worshipped one, 
 
 Was loved, and was by fate undone ! 
 Oh, there are times when the warm heart 
 
 Doth love to travel back, and live 
 Amid the dreams that form a part 
 
 Of joys its Eden memories give ; 
 It lingers on the tide of years 
 
 That bore rich freight unto the soul, 
 Ere life had changed its smiles to tears, 
 
 Or Hope had reached affliction s goal. 
 
 ANGELICA ! I miss Hiee now ! 
 I stroll beside the glassy stream, 
 
 Where zephyrs fan in / aching brow, 
 And all of happy life doth seem 
 The faded image of a dream. . 
 
IDEALINA. 49 
 
 I cast around my longing eyes, 
 
 And what now meets the anxious view, 
 Brings mem ry of the paradise 
 
 O er which I roved \\ith love and you. 
 I see the sinking sun, and wave 
 
 That flows in murm ring sweetness by> 
 I feel its balmy breeze that gave 
 
 Sweet melody when thou wert nigh ; 
 I hear the whisp ring stir of leaves, 
 
 The rills that from their fountains gush,. 
 And song-birds trill mid woodbine wreaths,. 
 
 The lays that waken twilight s hush 
 The sounds oft heard when thou wert near, 
 
 And joys sprang up like summer flowers - 
 They re now upon my cheerless ear, 
 
 Remembrancers of happier hours 1 
 I feel once more thy arm in mine, 
 
 In all the confidence of love ; 
 Thy eyes in gentleness doth shine 
 
 Like chasten d moonlight from above, 
 And as my spirit drinks the gaze, 
 
 The heart throbs wildly with delight 
 The rapture of love s halcyon days, 
 
 Throws sunshine o er the soul s deep night. 
 Thy winning voice in accents low, 
 
 Comes floating back on mem ry s stream ; 
 The deep, warm thoughts will come and go, 
 
 That guiled me mid love s blissful dream, 
 But when I turned to speak to thee 
 
 The fond, the vain illusion s gone, 
 5 
 
60 IDEALINA. 
 
 Is gone the spell of memory, 
 And with despair I m left alone. 
 
 The silvery morn of summer breaks , 
 
 And birds are singing in the grove, 
 Sweet warblers that the dawn awakes 
 
 To hymn the minstrelsy of love. 
 The sportive swallow from his height 
 
 Twitters his merry roundelay, 
 And plunging, in a circling flight 
 
 Now headlong -makes his downward way, 
 And then in merry mood will rise 
 
 And seek by fickle turns his spire, 
 And warble o er the melodies 
 
 That trill on morning s mystic lyre. 
 And there are hearts that gleeful spring 
 
 To meet the mantling morn, and bask 
 In dewy light of gladness wing 
 
 Unused to wear the world s cold mask* 
 But there is one to whom the morn, 
 
 Nor hope nor fond rejoicing brings, 
 And Heaven seems to smile in scorn 
 
 Upon the soul s exhausted spring?. 
 One heart, that sees no joy on earth, 
 
 And feels the skies look darkly down, 
 To make more sad the spirit s dearth, 
 
 And leave it bleeding and forlorn. 
 The very air that fans the cheek 
 
 And gives the fevered brow relief, 
 
IDEALINA. Oi. 
 
 In that, a bitterness doth speak, 
 
 And seem a mockery of grief; 
 For oh, I ve borne the cureless stain 
 
 Of woe, that e er the heart could bear, 
 And all the soul doth writhe in pain 
 
 Of cureless anguish and despair. 
 
 I miss thee, my betrothed ! my own ! 
 
 Thou st ceased to linger by my side 
 At evening s hush and night s deep noon, 
 
 Who once was wont to be my guide ! 
 I hear thy voice-harp swell no more 
 
 The music of the zephyr s breath, 
 And fled the witching smile you wore, 
 
 When love was lavish of its wealth. 
 But thou hast not been false, my love ! 
 
 No treach rous vow thy lips have passed 
 No dark deceit could ever move 
 
 Thy heart in Eden mouldings cast ! 
 But thou art where this broken heart 
 
 In death s lone quietude should rest, 
 For thy sweet words and gentle art, 
 
 Sleep now on Heaven s unchanging breast. 
 
 in. 
 
 The fair ANGELICA ! she 1 died ! 
 She that was loved and beautiful, 
 
52 IDEALINA, 
 
 That was my soul,, my life, my pride 
 
 The charm my bosom s rage could lull ! 
 She died like music o er the flowers 
 
 That blushing greet the early spring, 
 Or meteor mid the morning hours 
 
 When stars are brightly glimmering ! 
 Oh, she that was so fair and bright, 
 
 Did feel the trace of parting life 
 On her fair cheek and brow of light 
 
 Alone with sweetest sunshine rife- 
 And winds did breathe in hollow sighs 
 
 Their mournful tale of grief and woe, 
 As round her feverish couch, the cries 
 
 Of breaking hearts, uncheck d did flow 
 The requiem of my love and hope 
 
 The knell of bliss and raptures fled 
 The story of life s bubble broke, 
 
 And all youth s summer visions sped. 
 And then, dark shadows thickly stole 
 
 Upon the sun-beam of my fate, 
 And left the Eden of the soul, 
 
 All blighted withered desolate. 
 Dark thoughts, a wild, disordered brood, 
 
 Like harpy fiends would throng the heart, 
 And make its cherished memories food 
 
 To sate their vile, vindictive art. 
 Twas death and agony and hell, 
 
 The torment that my bosom knew, 
 When love wailed thus its wild farewell, 
 
 And Hope expired in anguish too. 
 
IDEALINA. 
 
 I never thought amid life s bloom 
 
 When Heav n was floating in the air, 
 That e er the shadow of the tomb 
 
 Would fall on hope and wake despair. 
 I did not dream as oft I sipped 
 
 At rapture s fount of blissful tears, 
 That joy s sweet blossoms would be nipped 
 
 Around its banks by frost of years ; 
 Or pleasure mount on sorrow s wings, 
 
 .And from its peaceful home depart, 
 And with it the imaginings 
 
 That blessed the deeply loving heart. 
 I ne er did think that air and earth 
 
 Would lose their beauty s witching spell, 
 And blooming flowers of summer birth 
 
 Increase my bosom s burning hell, 
 And all that formed my early bliss 
 
 Should only bring a spell of woe, 
 And every gleam of happiness 
 
 But hurry grief s unchanging flow. 
 But fate hath hurl d its poisoned spear, 
 
 The hurt and rankling spirit falls, 
 Now, reckless of what once was dear, 
 
 And memory like a curse appals. 
 The shade of darkness now is thrown 
 
 Upon my sad and cheerless way, 
 And grief hath marked me for its own, 
 
 Unblest by one kind, sunny ray, 
 And all my soul s deep worship s cast, 
 
 A wreck upon a boundless sea 
 *5 
 
54 IDEALINA. 
 
 The pure affections of the past 
 Are icicles of memory ! 
 
 Oh, why when broke life s tender chord 
 
 And flew thy spirit unto Heaven, 
 Did not the bosom that adored 
 
 Thee, feel to it love s respite given ? 
 Why ceased not then, the throbbing veins 
 
 That swelled the filling heart with woe y 
 And why is left to me the pains 
 
 Alone of anguish d love below ? 
 Were we, ANGELICA, riot one ! 
 
 In heart and trusting love the same ! 
 Then why, oh why should st thou be gone, 
 
 And I a blighted thing remain ? 
 Our hearts were linked, our souls were wed, 
 
 Our thoughts and feelings all united, 
 Entwined as by a mystic thread, 
 
 And every fond affection plighted. 
 My dreams in thine were born anew, 
 
 Thy nerves did vibrate to my own, 
 Our eyes unto each other grew, 
 
 And lips with kindred warmth did burn. 
 Thou wert my Life s best, purest part, 
 
 The soul s divinity within, 
 The angel of my trusting heart 
 
 To guard me from the world s dark sin. 
 But now, the eye that shone with love 
 
 And kindled high its mutual flame, 
 
IDEALINA. 55 
 
 Is lustreless, and may not rove 
 
 As in our happier days the same. 
 Thy lips whose gentle words did start 
 
 Within the soul a blissful light, 
 Are cold and wan, and can impart 
 
 No ray to cheer the heart s deep night, 
 And all that love could e er adore 
 
 Now sleeps, to wake on earth no more. 
 
 Thou wert on life s dark pilgrimage 
 
 To be my staff, and hope, and guide, 
 The joy and comfort of my age, 
 
 As of my youth the bosom s pride. 
 And when the world looked darkly on 
 
 The travail of th aspiring soul, 
 When fortune gazed but with a frown 
 
 And fate denied the heart its goal, 
 Thou wast to be my hope s reward, 
 
 The world whose smiles would not forsake, 
 The bosom s best and lonely hoard 
 
 Of wealth misfortune could not take. 
 And I, whatever fate befel, 
 
 Would shield thee from its deadly aim ; 
 My breast alone, should ward the spell 
 
 Of wrath that o er life s sunshine came. 
 And thus secure in mutual love 
 
 O er which beams e er a summer sky 
 Each heart mid fairy bowers would rove, 
 
 And chilling airs of earth defy, 
 
56 IDEALINA. 
 
 But cease, oh memory ! cease to bring 
 Life s vision of the past to view 
 
 The fickle, transitory thing 
 
 That blessed the heart but to undo ! 
 
 Tis vain ! while lingering on the brink 
 Of time, my " curse shall be to think" 
 
 IV. 
 
 And I will love thee, shrined one, still ! 
 
 Tho oft the voice of pleasure lures, 
 And joy and music earth s bow rs fill, 
 
 No spell like these the spirit cures, 
 But all such cheerful sounds doth seem 
 
 A banquet in the midst of death, 
 Or painful memory of a dream 
 
 That fled before the simoom s breath. 
 Aye ! I will love thee, tho the thought 
 
 " Doth work like madness in the brain," 
 Though tears that to the soul are brought, 
 
 Fall o er its waste, a purple rain, 
 Though every memory is a pang, 
 
 And thoughts are serpents in the heart, 
 That pierce the core with sheathless fang 
 
 Till poison fills up every part ! 
 For what is life but love for thee ? 
 
 Take love away and life is not ! 
 Then cease oh ! cease my memory, 
 
 That I may share her peaceful lot ! 
 
IDEALINA. 57 
 
 Bark world ! thou hast no spell to win 
 
 Me from the woes of blighted love, 
 Thy countless shadowings of sin, 
 
 But teach the heart to look above ! 
 Ambition s dream has now no charm 
 
 To solace suffering like mine ; 
 I cannot bow with feelings warm 
 
 At Fame s or Glory s hallowed shrine ; 
 I care not for earth s laurels now, 
 
 Its vain distinctions and its pride ; 
 They cannot glow upon the brow 
 
 Of her my heart-shrined ANGEL-BRIDE ! 
 
 i. 
 
 To thee, my love s last lay, I sing, 
 
 Sweet angel of the sky ! 
 And then will break the harp s lone string 
 
 And its sad echoes die ! 
 It woke when fancy s faith was strong, 
 And then its finest chords were strung 
 
 To love s sweet melody, 
 But soon the blight of autumn years 
 Awoke the heart and it to tears I 
 
58 IDEALINA. 
 
 II. 
 
 I ve loved thee long ! The angel thou 
 
 Of passion s earliest dream, 
 And then the sun-beam lit my brow 
 
 As with Hope s fairy gleam, 
 For I had found thee on the earth 
 A stranger fair of heavenly birth, 
 
 As thou to me didst seem, 
 And then I made thy heart my shrine, 
 And worshipped thee as though divine ! 
 
 in. 
 
 I love thee now ! And though I ve wept 
 
 Life s warm and bitter tears, 
 And woes, like adders coiled, have crept 
 
 Around youth s better years, 
 Since thou hast taken back thy flight 
 To that far sphere of Eden light 
 
 Thy birth to thee endears 
 Still still thy image is a part 
 Of my forlorn and bleeding heart. 
 
IDEALINA. 59 
 
 IV. 
 
 Perchance tis well that thou art freed 
 
 From chains that bound thee here ! 
 I would not see thy bosom bleed, 
 
 Or have thee shed a tear ; 
 And oh, if thou didst linger long 
 A part of Earth s deceitful throng, 
 
 The dark contact might sear 
 The pure fresh thoughts that glow within, 
 Ere AKT doth teach the soul to sin. 
 
 v. 
 
 I would not meet thee when the thrall 
 
 Of earth had bound thee fast, 
 The world s dark follies would appal 
 
 The memories of the past ! 
 I would not ever have thee feel 
 "What hollow Fashion would reveal, 
 
 Or o er thy heart have cast 
 One doubt of that dear friendship s truth 
 Which gave the hallowing charm to youth. 
 
60 IDEALINA. 
 
 VI. 
 
 But woe is mine, and I must weep 
 
 Its bitter, burning tears 
 Nor heart, nor memory will sleep 
 
 Through life s long, ling ring years ; 
 But thoughts of thee will haunt the shrine 
 O er which Hope s early sun did shine, 
 
 Undimmed by time s dark fears, 
 And then I feel the curse and blight 
 Of hopeless love s unchanging night. 
 
 VII. 
 
 And now, loved one ! a last adieu ! 
 
 My fitful strain is o er ; 
 The lyre that hymned thee fond and true, 
 
 Will wake its chords no more ; 
 But oh, its shattered wreck will prove 
 The emblem of a blighted love ! 
 
 Thy memory I ll adore 
 But now, I feel woe s madd ning spell, 
 And bid with breaking heart farewell ! ! 
 
THE LOVER S SIGH, 
 
 A LEQEND OF THE BILOXIS 
 
 I. 
 
 A SOUND of mirth is on the air, 
 
 A joyous sound of revelry ; 
 And brightly gleam the torches glare 
 
 Where dusky forms are revelling nigh, 
 And they have come from far and near 
 To mingle in the present cheer, 
 Where o er them now is softly thrown 
 A radiance from the Joy-God s throne, 
 And brightly beams on every brow 
 The mellow tint of Pleasure s glow. 
 
 Is aught within this scene of mirth 
 The base alloy of lowly earth ! 
 6 
 
Is this bright hour of gladness blent 
 With aught of passion s dark intent ? 
 
 Tis not to boast of many scars 
 
 Received in recent bloody wars, 
 
 Or from the past their prowess prove, 
 
 By scalps, around each girdle wove, 
 
 That were in hour of battle dread 
 
 Torn from many a warrior head : 
 
 Tis not to kindle new the ire 
 
 That once had glowed with madd ning fire, 
 
 Or conjure up some demon spell 
 
 Too dark for minstrel lore to tell 
 
 To lure within their dread embrace 
 
 The Chieftain of some hated Race ; 
 
 Nor e en to light the torrid blaze, 
 
 And on its wreath- wrought pinions gaze, 
 
 As when it circles high in air 
 
 The stake-bound victim of despair, 
 
 That now those noble forms have met, 
 
 On whom the seal of joy is set. 
 
 Beneath the dusky veil of night, 
 
 Within the blazing torches light, 
 
 The Chieftain of a warrior race 
 
 Has brought the fairest of his Tribe, 
 And now upon her blushing face 
 
 He prints the seal A CHIEFTAIN S BRIDE. 
 
THE LOVER S SIGH. 63 
 
 n. 
 
 And they are too a bright array 
 
 Of youthful charms concentred there. 
 And eyes than dimmer earth more fair 
 
 Shoot forth many a sparkling ray. 
 But She, the fairest of them all, 
 
 For whom the youthful maidens vie 
 " To sing her praise and wait her call" 
 
 Will peace her bosom ever fly ? 
 Alas ! a fearful shadow steals 
 Already o er a heart that feels 
 The cup of Life is drained of all 
 That could its joyous dreams enthrall. 
 Yet on the brow no shadow came 
 Indeed, twere worse than endless shame, 
 By action, thought, or word to show 
 That there was aught but pleasure s glow, 
 Could flush her cheek of olive then 
 And sorrow sheathed its shaft within. 
 Deep, deep within her bosom shrined, \ , , 
 Were feelings of no heav nly kind ; 
 For tho with hers was linked a name 
 
 That shed fame s brightness o er her fate 
 Reigned fondly still love s passion-flame 
 
 For one whose heart was desolate. 
 
 She loved a youthful form and face, 
 
 In which her trusting thoughts could trace 
 
IKE LOVER S SIGH. 
 
 A heart that throbbed in unison 
 
 With all the feelings of her own. 
 
 And oft this Indian youth had wooed 
 
 The maiden in her solitude, 
 
 And in those secret haunts, had learned 
 
 The depth of that strange love which burned 
 
 In still unfading brightness round 
 
 The hopes that were with cypress crowned. 
 
 Now swift the maiden s fancy flew 
 
 O er realms fresh bathed in morning dew, 
 
 When Hope had seen its earliest light 
 
 And heav nward plumed its eager flight ; 
 
 And in that fairy land is seen 
 
 The freshness of Life s morning dream, 
 
 And neath its soft and mellow skies 
 
 A thousand struggling memories rise, 
 
 Which force the heart to live and feel 
 
 Despite the fear of coming ill. 
 
 But now, again, the vision s passed 
 
 That for a moment o er was cast 
 
 The darkness of her mental sky, 
 
 And Hope is left to droop and die. 
 
 The warrior-youth who claimed her love 
 
 Was one of a forbidden Tribe ; f 
 And she his fond and gentle Dove 
 
 A stern Biloxi Chieftain s Bride 1 
 
THE LOVER S SIGH. 65 
 
 in. 
 
 The cheering sounds of mirth have died 
 
 Away upon the zephyr s wing, 
 And quiet reigns in primal pride 
 
 Where late was joyous revelling. 
 A pall of darkness hovering nigh 
 Is seen upon the midnight sky ; 
 But there is one of youthful form 
 With daring high and pulses warm, 
 Who lingers still in ambush, near 
 Th abandoned scene of festive cheer, 
 As if, within his bosom deep, 
 A feeling strange that will not sleep, 
 Impelled him to some rash emprise 
 Beneath those darkly low ring skies 
 Whose fearful shadows now are blent 
 With darkness of the deep intent 
 And o er him comes the cherished thought 
 Of vengeance that his bosom sought. 
 
 Go tempt the monarch lion in his lair 
 When hungry passion wakes the startled air, 
 And with a fury s crying madd ning sound 
 The woods and hollow caves re-echo round 
 When from his burning eye -balls fiercely dash 
 The* streaming terrors of the lightning s flash, 
 Or quickly flames within each angry eye 
 The fearful glance of woful destiny ; 
 6* 
 
THE LOVER S SIGH. 
 
 Go to the royal Tigress secret den 
 
 Where yet the hunter s guilty trace is seen, 
 
 And first, the mother feels her bosom pierced 
 
 With fortune s demon shaft with grief accurst, 
 
 And in her boiling-heart, a wretched fire 
 
 Glowing with deadly, deep, revengeful ire, 
 
 She starts aloud the fearful, shrieking cry 
 
 Of worse far worse than mortal agony, 
 
 And then is prest, is fondly, madly prest 
 
 Her lifeless young ones to her bleeding breast ; 
 
 Aye go, and still with safety you may dare 
 
 The more than madness of her grief s despair, 
 
 Destroy the angry tigress in her cave 
 
 Where gladly seeks she then, a welcome grave ; 
 
 Or e en may challenge too the forest king 
 
 Whose tones in fierce and wrathful echo s ring, 
 
 And from the dread rencontre proudly rise 
 
 With triumph gleaming from your sparkling eyes. 
 
 But nought may hope to scape the dreadful ire, 
 
 That s waked by youthful Passion s warm desire, 
 
 Or quench the maddening thoughts that anxious burn 
 
 In fitful gleams around Hope s early urn, 
 
 And vainly would the helpless victim hope 
 
 The deadly vengeance-spell around him broke, 
 
 Which dwells within the joyless soul s recess 
 
 Nor pitying calms its deep and wild distress. 
 
 For oh, when shadows cloud the heart, 
 And from its fairy realms depart 
 
THE LOVER S SIGH. 67 
 
 The empress Pleasure from her throne, 
 
 And hush d the spell of Music s tone 
 
 Which thrilled through every chord 
 
 Till Passion s demon throng adored ; 
 
 When all that erst was bright and fair 
 
 On earth or sea, in sky or air 
 As if some fiend of darkness came 
 O er fancy s beauteous realm to reign, 
 And spreading wide each sable wing 
 Gives Hope its darkened coloring 
 
 No more may gild th enraptured view 
 
 Or bloom with Hope s enchanting hue ; 
 
 When Love hath sheathed with practised art 
 
 Its pois nous arrows in the heart, 
 
 And then is felt the bitter curse 
 
 Of Passion horrid phantom-nurse 
 
 The blight of Eden s dearest flowers 
 
 That garlanded life s morning hours, 
 
 And in the soul a quenchless flame 
 
 That sears the heart and rends the brain 
 
 Oh then will come the desperate thought 
 
 To flaming glow of frenzy wrought, 
 
 That would with reckless fury dare 
 
 The darkest bidding of despair. 
 
 And now within that youthful Indian s breast 
 When all, save him, have sought their couches rest, 
 There lurks a deadly and prophetic hate 
 That spurns the fell decree of recent fate 
 
68 THE LOVER S SIGH. 
 
 And fiercely in its growing madness glows 
 To wreak full vengeance on exulting foes. 
 And when shall blushing break the new-born clay 
 And shine again on earth dawn s earliest ray 
 A piercing wail will startle all the land 
 And quickly rouse to arms each warrior band, 
 And hills and dales will echo round 
 The startling war-whoop s yelling sound. 
 
 Sleep on ! Concealed in midnight shade, 
 
 The lover of that fair young maid. 
 
 All fiery with the fell intent 
 
 On which his soul was firmly bent, 
 
 Drew forth from neath the shell-decked veil 
 
 That shields his bosom from the gale 
 
 Where hidden now its empty sheath 
 
 The poisoned instrument of death, 
 
 And as with stern uplifted eye 
 
 He reared its point toward the sky, 
 
 Whose shadows feed the soul s unrest 
 
 Bade all his idol-Gods attest 
 
 And on Heaven s azure-tinted brow 
 
 Record his soul-avenging vow 
 
 That ere the dawn shall tint the sky, 
 
 Its blade shall blush with crimson pride, 
 And wakeless in his slumber lie 
 
 The Chief of Bilox haughty Tribe. 
 
THE LOVER S SIGH. 69 
 
 IV. 
 
 Tis morn, a fair and beauteous morn ! 
 
 All cloudless now the azure scene 
 Where gathering shadows late had been, 
 
 But slept the spirit of the storm. 
 Tis morn ! that bright and cheerful hour 
 
 When Heaven puts forth a ruddy glare 
 And blushing wakes the dew-gemrn d flow r 
 
 To scatter fragrance on the air, 
 The time when sounds of air and earth 
 Within the anxious heart give birth 
 To quiet dreams of hope and joy, 
 And visions of life s unalloy. ; 
 When pleasure with her golden crown 
 Sits high on her imperial throne, 
 And proudly waves her sceptre hand j 
 To shower blessings o er the land. 
 
 But oh, there is many a heart 
 
 That feels not now the blissful hope 
 Which those sweet visions can impart, 
 And sighs to know its spirit broke ! 
 Oh ! there s many an eye once bright 
 Now shines with a decaying light, 
 And shaded brows that never knew 
 As now, the depth of sorrow s hue. 
 The stream of their existence grows 
 Yet darker as the current flows, 
 
70 
 
 And on its surface swift are borne 
 The wreck of joys forever gone. 
 
 Deep deep within their bosoms swell 
 The thoughts no earthly power can quell, 
 And on the track of guilt they fly 
 To wreak full vengeance or to die. 
 Where now is he who wakes the grief 
 That seeks in streams of blood relief ? 
 Who madjy in his vengeance swore 
 The Chieftain should awake no more, 
 And to his couch in secret went, 
 Nor proved in vain his dark intent ? 
 
 No beaten trail he now pursues 
 As through the forest realm he goes, 
 No customed track he seeks to find 
 As anxious oft he looks behind 
 In hope to lure the fearful wrath 
 Of vengeance on his hidden path. 
 And does he tread those wilds alone ? 
 Have all his hopes so sterile grown, 
 That not a glimpse of pleasure s gleam 
 Lights up the dread and lonely scene ? 
 
 A fair and fragile form is by 
 There stirs within no anguish d sigh, 
 For blest, with all his wishes blest, 
 Joy rears its throne within his breast. 
 
4 
 
 THE LOVER S SIGH. 71 
 
 And she is lovely as the morn 
 
 When first awakes the flush of dawn, 
 
 And o er the earth is mildly thrown 
 
 Soft radiance from Aurora s throne. 
 
 In vain the limner s art might trace 
 
 The sweetness of that fair young face 
 
 In vain his skilful hand essay 
 
 Its many beauties to portray ; 
 
 Such pleasing charms such potent spell 
 
 Within those clustering graces dwell, 
 
 It seems as if to earth was given 
 
 A spirit robed in hues of Heaven. 
 Who is the venturous maid, so sweetly fair 
 As beauteous as Heaven s angels are 
 That clings so fondly to her loved one s side 
 
 As hurriedly he threads his doubtful way ? 
 Say, can it be the fallen Chieftain s bride ? 
 
 Will peace within her trusting bosom stay ? 
 Will sweetest flowers along her path be strown 
 And angel happiness guard her as its own ? 
 
 v. 
 
 The sun is waning in decline, 
 Its last, faint rays but dimly shine 
 Upon the tall tree-tops, and now 
 Yet linger on the mountain s brow. 
 Deep in that dark and lonely wood 
 Where nature s throned in solitude. 
 
72 THE LOVER S SIGH. 
 
 There rose erect in towering pride, 
 And closely standing side by side, 
 Two pines of equal height and size, 
 Far reaching to the nether skies, 
 And at their base two forms recline 
 Oh fair each spirit s earthly shrine 
 By hunger, thirst and toil o ercome, 
 Their race, alas, untimely run ! 
 For where the Indian lovers slept, 
 Around them, thickly, slyly crept 
 The deadliest reptiles that have birth 
 Within those secret haunts of earth ; 
 With sparkling eyes, now hissing round, 
 They coil them for the fatal bound 
 And now is tlirust the threatened fang 
 That wakes them with its deadly pang. 
 
 Hark ! pon their fast pursuing path 
 Rings loud the echoed yell of wrath ; 
 Nearer and nearer still they come 
 At last, the vengeance- goal is won. 
 A mellow music mong the trees 
 As swaying to the zephhyr s breeze, 
 Commingling with the last sad sigh 
 Of those young lovers ere they die, 
 Fell pon each dread pursuer s ear 
 And filled him with a nameless fear 
 A thrill a strange, mysterious dread 
 They turned -and left unharmed the dead. 
 
THE LOVER S SIGIL 73 
 
 As oft is heard at evening s quiet hour, 
 When nature charms with weird, mysterious power, 
 The soft, low, wailing sounds that often come, 
 From pine-trees breathing gentle zephyr s moan, 
 The dusky sons of Bilox haughty Tribe, 
 Tell of the Chieftain s fair and faithless Bride, 
 And of the youthful lovers shuddering tell 
 The righteous fate their wanton hopes befel, 
 And name the moaning sound that wantons by 
 THE DYING INDIAN LOVERS SIGH, 
 
MARY. 
 
 I. 
 
 THERE S brightness on thy brow, Mary, 
 
 And thine the sunny glow of youth, 
 And dreams of happiness are now 
 
 To thee, the spirit-spell of truth. 
 Thy heart is free from every cloud 
 
 That comes from cavern- depths of care, 
 And free from sorrow s early shroud 
 
 The spirit-dove that nestles there. 
 
 n. 
 
 There s hope in thy young heart, Mary, 
 And pleasure sparkles in thy smile, 
 
 And thine the soul-entrancing art 
 Another s sorrow can beguile. 
 
MARY. 75 
 
 Bright visions of the future now 
 
 In fancy s mirror you behold, 
 And joy and hope illume thy brow 
 
 Like gems empearled in beauty s mould. 
 
 III. 
 
 There s brightness in thy glance, Mary, 
 
 The Day-God sheds no fonder beam 
 than those bright orbs which can entrance 
 
 The heart by their resplendent sheen. 
 And oh, the sweetness of thy smile 
 
 Gives glow of radiance to thy cheek, 
 In whose bright beams can bask the while 
 
 Love s fairy, and its vigils keep. 
 
 IV. 
 
 There s music in thy voice, Mary, 
 
 In every tone a heavenly thrill, 
 And proudly does the soul rejoice 
 
 In treasuring each soft cadence still. 
 Thy song is yet upon the air, 
 
 And unseen spirits worship round, 
 And to the heart s deep chambers bear 
 
 The rapture of its thrilling sound. 
 
76 MARY, 
 
 V. 
 
 All earth to thee is bright, Mary, 
 
 With every soft enchanting hue, 
 And flowers greet thy raptured sight, 
 
 Without one bitter thorn in view. 
 And oh, were mine the fairy spell 
 
 To circle round thy coming days, 
 In thy pure heart should ever dwell 
 
 The brightness of life s morning rays. 
 
 VI. 
 
 But clouds come o er the sky, Mary, 
 
 And darkly robe the beam of day, 
 And hearts are often made to sigh 
 
 Ere youth has spent its earliest ray. 
 The shafts of canker -care are worn 
 
 Deep deep within the bosom s cell, 
 And sorrow plants its bitter thorn 
 
 Where joy had wreathed its garland- spell. 
 
 VII. 
 
 And he, who strikes the lyre, Mary, 
 
 Who sweeps e en now its trembling strings, 
 
MAEY. 77 
 
 Has felt the glow of passion-fire 
 
 That to the heart ambition brings : 
 
 And ere the ocean of his youth 
 
 Had laved proud manhood s distant shore, 
 
 What life had known of joy and truth 
 Was mingled with affliction s store. 
 
 vm. 
 
 A glorious gift is thine, Mary, 
 
 Mind s signet on thy forehead beams, 
 And round thy spirit s earthly shrine 
 
 A glow of sun-like radiance streams. 
 But o er thy brow will come a shade, 
 
 And Passion there will set its seal, 
 And flowers in thy path will fade 
 
 When life its darker hues reveal. 
 
 IX. 
 
 I would thou could st not share, Mary, 
 
 The canker-spell of care and pain, 
 Or in thy gentle bosom bear 
 
 The sadness of hope s dying strain. 
 But seldom cloudless is the sky 
 
 O er which the rays of genius shine 
 And surely flashes from thine eye 
 
 The radiance of that light divine. 
 *7 
 
78 MARY. 
 
 X. 
 
 A friend s fond wish is thine, Mary, 
 
 Oh, may life s each revolving year, 
 Renew youth s cherished primrose time, 
 
 Thy heart unsullied by a tear : 
 And may thy light of joy e er shame 
 
 The lustre of youth s sunny beam, 
 And thou continue e er to reign 
 
 The Empress of Hope s radiant scene. 
 
SONNETS, 
 
 SUSAN. 
 
 i. 
 
 A WORLD of thought, of dreamy thought lies stored 
 
 Within the depths of those bright, sparkling orbs 
 That beam upon the soul with wondrous power, 
 
 And captive bind the unreluctant heart. 
 In gazing on thy features fair, a hoard 
 
 Of fancies throng the brain the soul absorbs 
 Each pleasing dream, and consecrates the hour 
 
 That formed of friendship pure, and thee a part. 
 A gem-like sheen upon thy brow appears, 
 
 Which is the reflex of immortal mind 
 A glow that will not fade in after years, 
 
 When beauty, pleasure, youth are left behind, 
 But be through time and change, a light to bless 
 Thee with its constant beam of happiness. 
 
80 SONNETS. 
 
 FANNIE. 
 
 n. 
 
 Upon thy fair and placid brow I love 
 
 To look. There beauty sits enthroned, and waves 
 The idol-sceptre that the heart can move 
 
 To mild obedience, when it madly braves 
 The power of love. The gift of high command 
 
 O er thoughts all cold and passionless is thine. 
 And thine to hold o er hearts the mystic wand 
 
 That homage draws to beauty s gem-wrought shrine, 
 And thou art good as fair ! Within thy breast 
 
 There lies of instincts pure, a treasured mine, 
 And each loved trait that virtue knows, a guest 
 
 Thy heart doth own, and all its worth is thine. 
 What joy to thee ! what brilliant hope it brings ! 
 
 What happy thoughts and blest imaginings ! 
 
SONNETS. 81 
 
 JANE. 
 
 in. 
 
 The witchery of gentleness and truth 
 
 Doth spell-like hold thee in its pleasant thrall, 
 And blooming with the hues of primrose youth, 
 
 Joy crowns thee with its radiant coronal. 
 Retiring as the day-light s fading beam, 
 
 And modest as the blushing tints of dawn 
 Thou seem st the angel of a lover s dream 
 
 Or rosy Goddess of the vernal morn* 
 Within thy heart is innocence enshrined, 
 
 And on thy brow hope s impress bright appears ; 
 Thy face is radiant with the glow of mind 
 
 That casts a pleasure-beam o er coming years. 
 The sweetest flowers along thy path are strown 
 And angel-happiness guards thee as its own. 
 
MIDNIGHT MUSINGS. 
 
 I. 
 
 AT this lone hour, when all is still 
 
 Save oft the wanton breeze s moan, 
 The thoughts that then my bosom thrill, 
 
 When left, sad, weary and alone, 
 Cast gloomy shadows on my mind, 
 
 And life a fearful vision seems, 
 So fraught with hopes that ne er may find 
 
 Existence save in fitful gleams. 
 
 n. 
 
 And often at this cheerless hour 
 This hour of quietude and gloom, 
 
 I yield my heart unto that power 
 
 Which breathes of sadness and the tomb. 
 
MIDNIGHT MUSINGS. 83 
 
 The dreams of other years come back 
 And cluster wildly on the heart, 
 
 And Feeling, tortured on the rack 
 Of Memory, seeks its shrine apart. 
 
 ni. 
 
 How frail indeed are human hopes 
 
 All fair in Boyhood s primrose time ; 
 But soon as when the flow ret opes 
 
 Their beauties wither and decline. 
 And yet, tis well our early years 
 
 Are full of HopVs indulgent smiles, 
 Since after-time is fraught with tears, 
 
 And seldom joy the heart beguiles. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Those youthful hopes, man s early dreams, 
 
 They fondly cling to memory s chain, 
 And to the heart their sunny beams 
 
 Oft give delight, alas ! how vain, 
 We ask again for joyous youth, 
 
 The bounding pulse, the cheerful tread, 
 The heart s first innocence and truth, 
 
 Which now like summer dreams have fled. 
 
84 MIDNIGHT MUSINGS. 
 
 V. 
 
 In vain the call the vision s past 
 
 From youth s gay scenes we re torn apart, 
 And lone remembrance shrines at last 
 
 In silent hope the joyless heart. 
 Those early dreams have fled away, 
 
 And now the storm of bitter ills 
 That make man s life a wintry day, 
 
 Alone our sad existence fills. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Such are the thoughts that wildly come 
 
 In midnight s silence o er the mind, 
 And mar the blissful hopes that bloom 
 
 In visions with our being twined. 
 And I have felt the sadd ning change 
 
 Which grief has wrought upon the heart, 
 And hopes, and fears, and tumults strange,- 
 
 Unwelcome guests that ne er may part. 
 
 Not thus howe er at noon of night 
 These hated visions crowded e er, 
 
MIDNIGHT MUSINGS. 85 
 
 Twas oft in dreams of fond delight 
 
 I learned its muteness to revere. 
 Then buried in my books and lone, 
 
 A daring thought possessed my brain, 
 I would not live and die unknown 
 
 Or wear an undistinguished name. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Twas then Ambition seized my mind 
 
 And lit up fiery dreams of fame, 
 And oft I thought that I could find 
 
 The goal whence burned the flickering flame. 
 The anxious hope, the fevered brain, 
 
 Did startle Thought s electric fire, 
 Till tortured nerves and growing pain 
 
 Forbid me longer to aspire. 
 
 IX. 
 
 And now the frenzied hope is dead, 
 
 That made the bubble fame its goal, 
 And thoughts and feelings all are fled, 
 
 That Passion flooded on the soul. 
 The time of youth, the boyhood time, 
 
 When dreams flash brightness on life s path," 
 Ambition s visions, all, in fine, 
 
 Are rent as by the lightning s wrath. 
 8 
 
86 MIDNIGHT MUSINGS. 
 
 X. 
 
 All all are gone, and I am not 
 
 The dreaming boy of other years, 
 Those fruitless fancies are forgot, 
 
 And what were smiles are changed to tears. 
 Upon my heart the vulture feeds, 
 
 And hence, all daring hope of fame, 
 And thoughts that aimed at lofty deeds 
 
 Have wandered back to whence they came. 
 
 XI. 
 
 Thus, let them rest, my brow is mild, 
 
 And now my pulse beats gently on, 
 And passions that were deep and wild 
 
 Have fluttered on the heart and gone. 
 Yet am I changed. And oft as moans 
 
 Each murmuring breeze that wantons by, 
 Fve felt its cadence in life s tones 
 
 And thought twere luxury to die. 
 
STANZAS, 
 
 i. 
 
 You ask me fair Lady, why slumbers 
 
 My harp-string neglected so long, 
 And bid me awaken its numbers 
 
 To echos of gladness and song. 
 Oh, you know not what sorrows oppress 
 
 The heart that is nurtured in woe, 
 For the spell of Youth s vision can bless 
 
 The harp of the Minstrel no more. 
 
 ii. 
 
 My bark was thrown out on life s ocean 
 In the brightness of youth s early morn, 
 
 When hope and the heart s fond emotion 
 Were free from the touch of the thorn. 
 
88 STANZAS. 
 
 In the sky of my fate there appeared 
 A star that shone bright and serene, 
 
 And with pleasure s wild fancies I reared 
 The fabric of life s golden dream. 
 
 in. 
 
 O er the waves a dark tempest appearing 
 
 There burst from the storm-cloud a flame, 
 That reft the proud vessel careering 
 
 Of all but a fragment and name. 
 And the star o er my fate that was cast, 
 
 To lead me to fortune and fame, 
 Grew dim, until extinguished at last 
 
 In the depth of my folly and shame. 
 
 IV. 
 
 The Roman in sadness once musing 
 
 On the ruins that grew dark on his sight, 
 Felt a glow of deep sorrow suffusing 
 
 The heart that had nurtured delight. 
 Thus aroused to reflection he stood 
 
 A statue of grief and despair, 
 And moved at the wreck of time s flood, 
 
 He paid the sad tribute a tear. 
 
STANZAS. 
 
 V. 
 
 How dark are the hopes and 4espairing 
 
 That cluster around my sad heart 
 The spells of deep sorrow are tearing 
 
 Youth s pleasure and being apart. 
 The sweet visions that fancy would call 
 
 From the depths of the spirit land, 
 The hopes of my manhood appal, 
 
 Like a spectral and shadowy band. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Then ask not, fair Lady, why slumbers 
 
 My harp-string neglected so long, 
 Nor bid me awaken its numbers 
 
 To echoes of gladness and song. 
 Alas ! you know not what sorrows oppress 
 
 The heart that is nurtured in woe, 
 For the spell of youth s vision can bless 
 
 The Harp of the Minstrel no more. 
 
UNBIND THIS WREATH. 
 
 i. 
 
 UNBIND this "wreath upon my brow 
 
 Whence hope and joy have fled, 
 This garland ill beseems me now 
 
 My thoughts are with the dead. 
 They linger o er the grave where sleeps 
 
 The loved of other days, 
 And oh, the heart in sadness weeps 
 
 For hope s departed rays. 
 
 11. 
 
 Take back take back the worthless prize 
 
 That lured my parent s will, 
 I cannot wed in joy s disguise 
 
 When griefs my bosom fill. 
 
UNBIND THIS WEEATH. 91 
 
 This gaudy wreath would fairer bloom 
 
 On hope s young, spotless brow 
 On mine alas, there is a gloom 
 
 That dims its cheerful glow. 
 
 in. 
 
 Unbind this wreath ! I will not wear 
 
 The joy I do not feel 
 These bridal robes bedeck despair 
 
 Whose wounds they cannot heal. 
 Oh, what is gold, that life should give 
 
 Its memory of years, 
 And force the broken heart to live 
 
 In wretchedness and tears. 
 
LOVE UNCHANGING. 
 
 I. 
 
 THY eye still brightly beams, Love, 
 
 With light that erst was thine, 
 In which affection seems 
 
 To keep its sainted shrine. 
 Thy gaze so sweet, with joy complete, 
 Thy cheerful smile that knows no wile. 
 
 Are links that bind me fast 
 
 To memories of the past. 
 
 II. 
 
 No change is in thy heart, Love, 
 Thou art in all the same, 
 
 As when thy winning art 
 Did first nuy homage claim. 
 
LOVE UNCHANGING. 
 
 And though we ve seen youth s faded dream, 
 And lived through years of toil and tears 3 
 
 No fortune e er beguiles 
 
 From love its trusting smiles. 
 
 in. 
 
 How oft in mem ry s glass, Love, 
 
 I pierce the misty veil 
 That time throws o er the past 
 
 To dim Love s youthful tale. 
 Oh then I feel thy image steal 
 In light of youth, of love and truth 
 
 Across my soul that shares 
 
 The burden of thy cares. 
 
 IV. 
 
 And you through life will be, Love, 
 
 A faithful spirit still, 
 And I the same to thee, 
 
 Through scenes of joy and ill. 
 Thy bloom will fade, and time will shade 
 Thy beauty s page with dents of age, 
 
 But in my heart will be 
 
 Unchanging love for thee. 
 
OH! I REMEMBER! 
 
 OH, I remember well the hour 
 When first I owned thy beauty s power, 
 And felt to earth a charm was given 
 To guile me with its mimic Heaven. 
 Enchained I sat beside thee then 
 While feelings strange grew up within, 
 My heart s fond happiness to prove 
 But oh ! I did not dream twas love ! 
 
 I left thee only for a day, 
 But thought did yield to fancy s sway, 
 And still I bask d the ling ring while 
 Within the light of beauty s smile. 
 
OH! I REMEMBER. 9 5 
 
 I heard thy gentle accents o er, 
 Thy eyes, bright beaming as before, 
 And felt my heart s deep fountains move, 
 But oh ! I did not dream twas love ! 
 
 m, 
 
 And now, I look into my heart, 
 Thy image fills up every part ; 
 I scan the mirror of my soul, 
 And there thy shadow has control ; 
 And thought ne er borne on wings afar, 
 Makes thee its bourne and idol-star ; 
 Let these thy trophies amply prove, 
 How close each feeling links with love. 
 
THE MINIATURE. 
 
 I GAZE entranced ! and as my wondering eyes 
 Drink in the beauty of thy witching smile, 
 
 The hopes and haunted thoughts of years arise 
 That line the shore of memory s dream-girt isle, 
 
 And Moslem-like, I feel at length tis given, 
 
 To view the Houri of my visioned Heaven. 
 
 I gaze, and fain would bow and worship thee, 
 For ne er did to the Grecian minstrel seem 
 
 A Goddess worthier of the homaged knee, 
 
 Nor e er did Nymph that haunted Poet s dream, 
 
 Awaken half the deep idolatry 
 
 My heart has gathered to its shrine for thee. 
 
THE MINIATURE. 97 
 
 III. 
 
 Thou seem st too lovely far for mortal birth 
 An angel-visitant of this lowly sphere, 
 
 Thy charms are of the primrose morn of earth 
 When every flower did its God revere 
 
 When Naiads laughed beside the silver stream 
 
 And fairies revelled in the orient beam. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Sweet shape ! Thy beauty has enchained my thought, 
 And fixed its anchored dreams on thee alone, 
 
 And oh, the shrine my pilgrim-fancy sought 
 Is in the marvel of thy graces won. 
 
 Thou art the cynosure of every dream 
 
 That gave to earth its brightest, happiest beam. 
 
 v. 
 
 The Elfin-genius of the smile doth beam 
 In kindling beauty on thy blooming lip, 
 
 Where nectar, rich as Hermion dews, I ween 
 Would tempt the Grecian Deities to sip. 
 
 Oh oft, my kisses warm I ve showered there 
 
 And fain would breathe my life on lips so fair. 
 9 
 
98 THE MINIATURE. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Sweet image, say ! Art thou of Earth or Air ? 
 
 Art thou a being of the realms of life, 
 Or has the Artist s fancy placed thee there, 
 
 The sun of dreams with which his soul was rife, 
 To type some Naiad of the moonlit wave, 
 Or Peri of the ocean s coral cave ? 
 
 VII. 
 
 Thou art so fair in feature and in form, 
 
 It seems, some Angel quitting Heaven s sphere, 
 
 Dissolved in light, whose radiant beam of morn 
 Quick flew to earth and left its image here. 
 
 Whate er thy source, I know and feel thou art 
 
 The loved Egeria of my dreaming heart. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 I gaze, and lingering gaze as on the star 
 
 That brightest shines in Love s Ausonian sky, 
 
 Whose beams fall softly from their home afar 
 And on the soul in mirrored beauty lie, 
 
 Awaking in the heart a music-tone, 
 
 Like Harp of Memnon answering to the sun. 
 
THE MINIATURE. 99 
 
 IX. 
 
 For veiled within the heart there is a lyre 
 That sweetly echoes to affection s breath, 
 
 And every feeling wakes a kindred wire 
 
 That twines about the soul its music-wreath ; 
 
 And now, I feel some fond emotion move 
 
 The chord that trembles to the sigh of love. 
 
 x. 
 
 Yes, image fair ! I own thou hast a spell 
 Zanoni-like, around my being thrown, 
 
 And hopes and feelings that no power can quell 
 Have with each look at thee more earthly grown, 
 
 Until encompassed by Love s mystic chain, 
 
 I struggle with its faultless links in vain. 
 
 Thou art indeed, the idol of my soul, 
 
 The earth-born Goddess at whose shrine I bow, 
 And e er I ll turn me from earth s low control 
 
 To Eden visions such as haunt me now, 
 And seek in pride of fame and power to be 
 More pure in heart and less unworthy thee. 
 
100 THE MINIATURE. 
 
 XII. 
 
 What though be filled the storehouse of the mind 
 With lessons taught in tomes of ancient lore, 
 
 Or quaffed Pierian fount where song is shrined 
 And Poesy sweeps still its harp of yore, 
 
 If o er Ambition s way thy light doth throw 
 
 No beam to hallow life with kindred glow ? 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Oh, Life would be a bleak and barren waste 
 Where flowers shed no fragrance o er the scene, 
 
 And death misnamed of Terrors be embraced 
 In welcome sweetness as a pleasant dream, 
 
 If in my future was no sphere for thee 
 
 In which to shape and rule my destiny. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Another gaze ! and now the trembling string 
 
 Of my weak lyre must cease its wand ring strain- 
 
 And yet, tis not the breath of fancy s wing 
 That wakens notes that may, alas, be vain, 
 
 For on the spirit-altar, tones divine 
 
 Make music round the heart s enchanting shrine. 
 
THE MINIATURE. 101 
 
 XV. 
 
 I love thee, WIFE ! Life s holiest thought is thine ! 
 
 For thee I d dare the steep ascent of fame, 
 And with the trophied laurels proudly twine 
 
 In fadeless wreaths the letters of thy name 
 Now glassed upon the mirror of my soul, 
 To keep me free from sin and earth s control. 
 
LA BAGATELLE. 
 
 WRITTEN IN CHURCH 
 
 I. 
 
 A HUNDRED eyes, a hundred eyes, Ned, 
 
 All beaming gently bright, 
 Are tempting prize, are tempting prize, Ned, 
 
 To win an anchorite. 
 There s black and blue, there s black and blue, Ned ? 
 
 A careless thing to you, 
 And yet to you I own tis true, Ned, 
 
 I once preferred the blue. 
 
 II. 
 
 Twas at a time, a charming time, Ned - 
 In confidence tis told 
 
LA BAGATELLE. 108 
 
 In folly s prime, in folly s prime, Ned, 
 
 When I was young and bold. 
 I dared to love, I dared to love, Ned, 
 
 This charming eye of blue, 
 And hard I strove, and hard I strove, Ned, 
 
 To win the charmer too. 
 
 m. 
 
 My harp was strung, with garlands hung, Ned, 
 
 And fancy touched the strings, 
 While passion sung, the flowers among, Ned, 
 
 Its wild imaginings. 
 I saw a tear, a trembling tear, Ned, 
 
 O erflow its crystal cell, 
 And Hope did cheer with flattering cheer, Ned, 
 
 Much more than tongue can tell. 
 
 IV. 
 
 I touched again with tender strain, Ned, 
 
 The string made doubly dear 
 Twas all in vain it broke in twain, Ned, 
 
 Alas, the faithless tear. 
 And now I m free, as ever free, Ned, 
 
 To sport with Beauty s chain, 
 Too soon to be, perhaps with thee, Ned, 
 
 Far worse entwined again. 
 
10J: LA BAGATELLE. 
 
 V. 
 
 So many eyes, of various dyes, Ned, 
 
 All beaming gently bright, 
 Are tempting prize to win the sighs, Ned, 
 
 Of e en an anchorite. 
 Then how can we, oh how can we, Ned. 
 
 Who love a glance so well, 
 Hope long to be, all fancy free, Ned, 
 
 Untouched by beauty s spell. 
 
THE GIRL ON COLLINS STREET- 
 
 I. 
 
 IN storied verse and olden song 
 
 We re told of maidens fair, 
 Whose glance could e er disarm the strong 
 
 Or strengthen wan despair. 
 Such beauty s charm is lingering yet, 
 
 And yet the homage meet ; 
 A peerless one I oft have met 
 
 The girl on Collins Street. 
 
 n. 
 
 I ve heard the sweet Parnassian lyre 
 In beauty s praise awake, 
 
 And quivering with poetic fire, 
 The marble heart would break. 
 
106 THE GIRL ON COLLINS STREET. 
 
 But never strain that Genius sung 
 In Delian numbers sweet, 
 
 Did more to maiden fair belong 
 Than her on Collins Street. 
 
 in. 
 
 I ve seen the lovely Southern maid 
 
 Full blest with beauty s charms, 
 And Northern girls in smiles arrayed 
 
 Whom truth and virtue warms ; 
 The Eastern fair with polished mind 
 
 And Western ones I meet, 
 But ne er the counterpart could find 
 
 Of her on Collins Street. 
 
 IV. 
 
 The lovely form of Grecian mould, 
 
 And face enwreathed with smiles, 
 The tress of raven and of gold 
 
 And eye that love beguiles, 
 Have often stirred the heart s deep strain 
 
 Of music wildly sweet, 
 But none could prompt its best refrain 
 
 Like her on Collins Street. 
 
THE GIKL ON COLLINS STREET. 107 
 
 V. 
 
 I ve sat and worshipped at her side, 
 
 In summer s quiet even, 
 When Hope has whispered of a bride, 
 
 To make of earth a Heaven. 
 I ve gazed upon her features fair 
 
 And beauty all complete, 
 And thought that none could e er compare 
 
 With her on Collins Street. 
 
 VI. 
 
 I lingered on each gentle tone 
 
 From her sweet lips that fell, 
 And marked how bright her clear eyes shone 
 
 That pierced my bosom s cell. 
 The pinioned hours flew swiftly by, 
 
 And fast my pulses beat 
 I could not speak- but oft did sigh 
 
 For her on Collins Street. 
 
 VII. 
 
 The fondest dreams e er fancy knew 
 Within my heart found birth, 
 
 And hope was tinged with radiant hue, 
 As vernal blooms of earth. 
 
108 THE GIRL ON COLLINS STREET. 
 
 The sky of life seemed bright and fair 
 As mingling rays that meet, 
 
 And then to woo, I ve thought I d dare 
 The girl on Collins Street. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 With this resolve one eve I went, 
 
 The moon shone clear above, 
 And all the starry firmament 
 
 Seemed poetry and love. 
 I quaffed the soul-inspiring scene, 
 
 And felt its influence sweet, 
 While dreaming of my heart s dear queen. 
 
 The girl on Collins Street. 
 
 XI. 
 
 With hope elate and heart of love 
 
 I touched the sounding wire, 
 Its thrilling music did but move 
 
 My love s impassioned fire. 
 The door flew wide, but what, alas ! 
 
 My anxious eyes did greet ! 
 Nine hats like spectres in the pass 
 
 Of beaux on Collins Street. 
 
THE GIRL ON COLLINS STREET. 109 
 
 X. 
 
 My memory oft recalls that hour 
 
 And all the thoughts it gave, 
 When hope decayed like blasted flower 
 
 And happ ness found a grave. 
 The sudden shock which moved me then 
 
 My startled nerves repeat, 
 As oft the memory comes again 
 
 Of beaux on Collins Street. 
 
 XI. 
 
 Those hats like ghouls their vigils keep 
 
 Around my thoughts by day, 
 And e en when locked in dreamy sleep 
 
 Like spectres haunt their prey. 
 Sometimes I feel renewed love s spell. 
 
 And should I chance to meet 
 Those hats no more, all may be well 
 
 With me on Collins Street. 
 
 10 
 
POEM, 
 
 Delivered before the Mercantile Library Association 
 San Francisco, California, 1853. 
 
 No paltry task my humble Muse essays- 
 Unused to bask beneath the solar blaze 
 As like some maiden coy, she views the lyre, 
 And blushing hopes, yet trembles to aspire. 
 When Homer touched the lyre s slumbering chord 
 It woke to music and the world adored ; 
 When Maro s harp with garden riches twined 
 By rural themes entranced the public mind, 
 The air all laden with the wealth of praise 
 Resigned its freight in homage to his lays. 
 When Tasso touched with true promethean fire 
 Sent forth the echos of a magic lyre, 
 The nations owned the beatific strain 
 And Heaven gladdened at the Poet s reign. 
 
POEM. Ill 
 
 When Milton rapt with dreams of richest light 
 Looked up to Heaven and soared in daring flight, 
 The holiest honors of the tuneful Nine 
 Were wreathed to decorate his Muse s shrine. 
 Not such the dream an humble bard inspires 
 Whose trembling Muse to lesser heights aspires ; 
 Who ne er has known to build the palaced rhyme 
 Nor breathed the odors of the Minstrel s clime. 
 Well may she pause and seek to shun the flight 
 That palsies now her pinions with affright, 
 But lured by smiles, and by your favor won, 
 She braves the task, with flattering trust begun. 
 
 I. 
 
 As slowly sinks th expiring God of Day 
 
 Its track sublime throughout its lengthened way 
 
 The occidental wave invites to rest 
 
 The shining Monarch on its limpid breast, 
 
 And ere his burning car to view is lost 
 
 His latest beam lights up our golden coast. 
 
 This land, which, like some tale of fairy seems 
 
 The fancied fable of the Poet s dreams, 
 
 Like Pallas armed, proclaimed its magic birth 
 
 The monarch-splendor of the startled earth. 
 
 To it as to the Mecca s sainted shrine 
 
 The pilgrim-world began its march sublime, 
 
 The calm, the rash, the wise and zealot, all 
 
 Renouncing home, its ties and kindred thrall. 
 
112 POEM. 
 
 Not all the wealth of legendary lore 
 From which the Minstrel heaps his hoarded store,, 
 Nor fancies thronging on the Poet s brain 
 In fond accord, or wild, disordered train, 
 Such marvel to the gazing world conveyed 
 Such seeming false in holiest truth arrayed. 
 The Bard whose lyre by Fable s Goddess strung. 
 Th enchanting strains of weird Tradition sung, 
 Ne er dreamed mid fictions of the fertile mind, 
 The Real, which this golden land enshrined. 
 Where freedom dwells or haughty despots reign, 
 And vile oppression boasts a hallowed name, 
 The same ambitious dreams the heart inspired 
 And Fancy fashioned what the Hope desired. 
 Thus roused, and starting from lethargic sleep, 
 Their straining eyes looked o er the mighty deep, 
 And to their anxious visions came the sight 
 Of Goddess throwing off the robes of night, 
 And then her glittering garments they behold 
 As waves a queenly sceptre o er the land of gold. 
 To Fancy s eye the glistening shore did seem, 
 More bright by far than Grecian minstrel s dream. 
 And as they viewed, imagination warm 
 New beauties gave, enriched with every charm, 
 Till lost in wonder, in amazement lost, 
 Each thought was haunted by the distant Coast. 
 
POEM. 113 
 
 II. 
 
 It seemed a land that basked beneath the sun 
 
 Whose genial smiles upon it ever shone, 
 
 Where fruits and flowers in its green parterres 
 
 Would homage yield from Nature s worshippers, 
 
 And Nature s self by rosy wreaths in thrall 
 
 Would vie in mirth with joyous Bacchanal. 
 
 A land whose streams are rich with precious ores, 
 
 And tempting Naiads more than Grecian shores, 
 
 Whose mountains bathing in eternal snows 
 
 O erlook the vales that sleep in sweet repose, 
 
 Where summer smiling, with its gorgeous train 
 
 Sheds o er the scene the glories of its reign. 
 
 A land with hills the Arcadian fancy saw 
 
 With Oreads filled unknown to Nature s law - 
 
 And fountains graced by water-nymphs that lave 
 
 Their beauties in the fresh, translucent wave. 
 
 A land whose mountains, hills and vales and plains, 
 
 Whose streams, and fountains breathing music s strains, 
 
 Are rich with treasures to the eye unseen 
 
 And give to truth the semblance of a dream. 
 
 The while they sought, the hopeful fancy grew, 
 
 And splendors brightened on the pilgrim s view ; 
 
 The stony mountain in its height serene, 
 
 And valley blooming in eternal green, 
 
 All, turning like the fabled dream of old 
 
 By Midas touch to heaps of massive gold. 
 
 no 
 
114 POEM. 
 
 III. 
 
 Lo ! Now the mighty throng of pilgrims stand 
 
 Exulting on the Western Ocean s strand, 
 
 The peril past the mountain and the deep 
 
 Kind fortune smiles and cares forget to weep. 
 
 Upon the drowsy world begins to break 
 
 The dawn of truth to bid its legions wake 
 
 From slumbers by despotic poppies shed, 
 
 And own the memories of their horrors fled. 
 
 The tinsel drapery of thrones conceals 
 
 But ill what human misery reveals, 
 
 And man by power forced to kiss the rod 
 
 Will smite the smiter neath the smile of God. 
 
 The law of might will yield to lordly right, 
 
 The sword by Justice sheathed will shun the fight, 
 
 And Earth s proud Monarchs like their Serfs will be ? 
 
 A people Sovereign, happy, proud and free, 
 
 Wise Heaven marks the spot for freedom s home 
 
 Where towering minaret and lofty dome 
 
 Shall seek in pride to reach the vaulted skies 
 
 And be a solace for Oppression s sighs. 
 
 Of every nation, age, complexion, race, 
 
 Th anomoly of human kind we trace ; 
 
 Religions, creeds and fantasies repose 
 
 In mild, indulgent humor to their foes, 
 
 And all in seeming harmony unite 
 
 To wrestle in ambition s zealous fight. 
 
POEM. 115 
 
 Here rests the Briton s rage gainst Gallic foes 
 And sleeps the Frenchman s fury in repose ; 
 Here Austrian pride forgetful of its ha\;e 
 Bohemia s sons discerns in equal state, 
 And exiles driven from Hungarian shore 
 Their wrongs retain but feel their fears no more. 
 The titled Noble, with ancestral pride, 
 Scorns not the low-born subject at his side ; 
 The wise, the princely, and the worldly great 
 No honors claim o er humbler man s estate ; 
 By rank, distinction, wealth, degree, 
 N o form is hallowed and the mind is free ; 
 Sole patent of man s noble birth we claim, 
 Not royal favors, but an honest name. 
 All here alike, the humble and the proud, 
 Unheeding join ambition s eager crowd, 
 And each doth vie with each to win the prize, 
 The soil auriferous in its wealth supplys. 
 Europe her multifarious offspring sends, 
 And Asia with its dusky hordes attends, 
 And e en the Aztec with remembrance strong, 
 Though unforgiving, swells the motely throng. 
 
 IV. 
 
 But most the victors of this chosen land 
 The muse exalts and audience does demand 
 Who roused by country s wrongs to seize the sword 
 Did hurl just vengeance on the Aztec horde, 
 
116 POEM. 
 
 And from the haughty Mexic tore the crest 
 And plucked this gem from off her bleeding breast, 
 Went forth the champions of the deathless right. 
 Like heroes proud to woo the willing fight, 
 As fiercely shrieked the eagle s piercing cry, 
 Which told the Condor s hateful brood were nigh. 
 The brave battalia formed in stern array, 
 And beating hearts were eager for the fray ; 
 And now at sound of drum and thrilling fife 
 The warriors march, impatient for the strife. 
 They went as did of yore their nobler sires, 
 Who burned with freedom s sublimated fires, 
 While in their glowing cheeks and glistening eyes 
 Forth flashed the dauntless spirit of emprise, 
 And as the eagle ensign o er them streams 
 They pant to blazon it with honor s beams. 
 That banner bears the imprint of their fame, 
 And from its starry folds each deathless name 
 Will ever in immortal glory stream, 
 And mock the splendors of the fading dream. 
 The grateful tongues of millions yet unborn 
 . Shall keep their deeds as fresh as dewy morn, 
 And while the sun shall on earth s fragments glo 
 Their fame will link with name of Mexico. 
 
 V. 
 
 When war s alarms no longer woke the day, 
 And Peace resumed her mild, benignant sway, 
 
POEM. 117 
 
 And from the foe this ocean-gem was torn 
 
 In just requital of her causeless scorn, 
 
 The bold, brave hearts that then in triumph shone 
 
 Now seek the land their priceless valor won. 
 
 Towards the setting sun their faces turned, 
 
 And strong emotions in each bosom burned 
 
 As sped the bark beneath the bending sail, 
 
 Or braved the pilgrim s heart the mountain gale. 
 
 How sad the memories on the bosom throng 
 
 And fill with tears the Muse s mournful song. 
 
 The quiet home, the cherished social hearth, 
 
 The scenes which gave indulgent childhood mirth ; 
 
 The stream that crept beneath the flowering vine 
 
 Where youth did sport in boyhood s sunny time, 
 
 The garden swelling with its wealth of flowers 
 
 Its odorous incense on the morning hours, 
 
 And all the scenes by hallowing fondness blest, 
 
 In vain, could still the haunted soul s unrest. 
 
 The holy trysting place where lovers met 
 
 To hide their fondness and their fears forget, 
 
 To breathe the vows by lovers only spoken 
 
 And guard the trust by faithful hearts unbroken ; 
 
 And e en the idol of the dreaming heart, 
 
 The fond Egeria, of the soul a part, 
 
 Who when the stars alone their vigils kept, 
 
 At passion s holy breathing s fondly wept, 
 
 Were reft of power, their witching spells disowned. 
 
 And mad ambition in their stead enthroned. 
 
 One look, one fond and lingering look was all 
 
 The heart betrayed, then broke the silken thrall, 
 
1x8 POEM. 
 
 And onward then, and still the speedy flight 
 
 To new-born realms now glittering on the sight. 
 
 O er mighty plains the pilgrim bends his way, 
 
 Nor can untrodden wilds his soul dismay ; 
 
 To him the arid rock or fertile ground 
 
 Alike, alike the awful waste around ; 
 
 He sees one only star, one guiding light, 
 
 And onward hastes through danger s thickening night. 
 
 Oh, who can tell the secrets of that soul 
 
 As throbbing under passion s wild control, 
 
 He hurry s from the hopes of earlier years, 
 
 Nor bathes remembrance in repenting tears ! 
 
 What eye can read the depths of that stern heart, 
 
 From early memories rudely torn apart, 
 
 As mid the silence of untroubled night 
 
 Thought wooes the happy realms of earlier light ! 
 
 What hopes, what varied dreams are now inspired, 
 
 Before unknown, nor to the heart desired ! 
 
 How oft o er all the withering simoom came, 
 
 And hopes, and visions fraught with golden fame, 
 
 Like summer dreams the orange groves beneath, 
 
 Were swept as autumn leaves before its breath. 
 
 Where yon Sierras lift their frowning forms, 
 
 Around whose summits play eternal storms, 
 
 Many a wearied pilgrim paused to rest, 
 
 And sunk supinely on the mountain s crest. 
 
 Though full in view the tempting goal appears, 
 
 To crown their hopes and dissipate their fears, 
 
 Like him, who once on Pisgah s summit stood, 
 
 They saw, but ne er could reach, the promised good. 
 
POEM. 119 
 
 Now wintry blasts sweep o er each manly head, 
 And sing the only requiem for the dead. 
 
 VI. 
 
 But on, my trembling Muse, nor still prolong, 
 The saddened echos of unhappy song. 
 A~lofty theme thy feeble praises claim, 
 And tasks the faltering tribute of thy strain. 
 Where er the eye its truant gaze compels, 
 A world of magic in the circle dwells, 
 And in its charmed sphere we still advance, 
 And breathe the odorous breezes of romance. 
 Of late, along this occidental shore, 
 The red-browed Monarch, skill d in savage lore, 
 Rejoiced on crimson fields to vaunt his pride, 
 And covet fame on battle s swelling tide. 
 Was his, the mighty mountain, and the plain, 
 And his, the prospect of the boundless main, 
 And streams that rolled their silver tides along, 
 And hills that echoed to his native song. 
 The flame of Thought that o er the Nation s spread, 
 To startle Monarchs wi.th untimely dread, 
 Make kingdom s crumble at their fickle base, 
 And Empires pause to gaze on Freedom s face 
 This darkened spot illumed with wondrous light, 
 And Wisdom s radiance shed o er Error s Night. 
 His native haunts no more the savage treads 
 With bounding pulse, and heart no danger dreads, 
 
120 POEM. 
 
 But exiled from the peace of other days, 
 
 His home no longer beams with tranquil blaze. 
 
 The bending sky looks darkly on his fate, 
 
 And all his hopes of earth are desolate 
 
 Alas ! the feeble wand rer well may crave 
 
 The only boon that s left him now a grave ! 
 
 The drowsy Aztec and his Indian foe, 7^ , 
 
 Like ocean-waves receding in their flow, 
 
 Are wasting fast upon their native soil, ;, : - , 
 
 Where freedom wakens neath the sun of toil. 
 
 The morning light that bathed them in its beams, 
 
 When manhood s pride was flush d with happy dreams. 
 
 Sheds brightly now, its wide, expanded glow, 
 
 O er hills and streams, that swell with music s flow, 
 
 Where mightier sovereigns wield the conqu ring rod, 
 
 And own o er all, the righteous hand of God. 
 
 Here Freedom now its mighty temple rears, 
 
 To light with hope the dawn of coming years, 
 
 And give to earth the more than magic beam, 
 
 That wisdom hallows with awakened dream. 
 
 A star has risen in the western sky, 
 Whose light doth seem like Heaven s beauteous eye, 
 And o er the earth its quivering beams are thrown, 
 Like radiance from Aurora s dazzling throne. 
 No comet s wildness marks its wondrous birth, 
 Or lightning s gleams that, flash and darken earth, 
 But brilliant as the noon-tide s fervent rays, 
 It shines with steady and increasing blaze ! 
 
POEM. 
 
 Pacific planet hail ! Luxurious coast I 
 Of every land the freeman s proudest boast ! 
 What forms of shining splendor round thee throng, 
 And swell the accents of melodious song ! 
 The gentle Peace with cadence fills the air, 
 And Graces, in harmonious* numbers rare, 
 Unite with Muses to enhance the strain, 
 While Plenty follows with her jovial train. 
 Here Labor with gigantic arm outspread, 
 Bids Hunger leave in hope its crumbless shed, 
 And Wisdom too puts Indolence to shame, 
 And loses it the trophies of its reign. 
 Here Learning guides, and reign d by virtue s laws, 
 The noblest homage to its Temple draws, 
 And scanning Earth as with an Eagle s gaze, 
 Sees Nations basking in its future blaze. 
 The fondest dreams the Saxon s hope inspires, 
 His heart inflames, and all his being fires. 
 He braved the Stony Mountain and the sand, 
 And ocean wave, at freedom s blest command, 
 And still Ambition, monarch of his breast, 
 Obedience owns to freedom s high behest. 
 Along his beaten track, o er drought and sand, 
 Where teeming life but waits th enchanter s wand, 
 The iron-steed with lightning hoof will fly 
 Like meteor-gleam athwart the desert sky, 
 And bear from clime to clime with matchless worth 
 The gorgeous treasures of the teeming earth. 
 What dreams of wealth, and hope and future fame, 
 Encircle now, the Saxon s shining name ! 
 11 
 
122 POEM. 
 
 The Orient unlocks its portals wide, 
 And Asia floats its treasures on the tide ; 
 The wealth of India and the ocean isles. 
 Enchants the eye and freights the heart with smiles, 
 And scarce the Saxon wish e er moves the air 
 Ere all their opulence repays his care. 
 Nor yet is ancient Babylon forgot, 
 Whose riches crowned that city s happier lot, 
 Nor cities vast which Commerce built of yore 
 Along the Tiber, and Euphrates shore. 
 The wealth of Tyre, and Sidon s equal fame, 
 That sprang from Commerce wafting o er the main, 
 v The Saxon s heart with kindred wish inspires, 
 And fortune grants whate er ihe hope desires. 
 Already round the Freedom-Goddess throne 
 The Queen of Commerce draws her shining zone, 
 And now, from every nation, mart and clime, 
 Brings riches vaster than Golconda s mine. 
 The peerless Clipper, monarch of our bays, 
 With willing sheets unfurled, its anchor weighs, 
 And in its winged flight on ocean s breast 
 Becomes of every clime a favored guest. 
 Where flows the Danube, or the Ganges tide, 
 The Po, or Nile s impetuous waters glide, 
 The wealth that glistens on each distant shore, 
 In richest streams upon our Commerce pour. 
 On earth, there s not a tide or stream that flows ; 
 No winter s wind, or summer breeze that blows ; 
 
POEM. 
 
 123 
 
 No raj of morning light, or sunshine warm ; 
 No flower that falls, or rose s blooming charm ; 
 But each doth hoard its treasures richest store, 
 And plant their fulness on our favored shore. 
 
 THE END. 
 
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