THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES n 'U /} Tlioii modest church ! witliiii whose sacred walls Each Sabbath morn the sons of toil repair As each low chime the wandering mind recalls From worldly thoughts to fix itself on prayer. Pack lo. TRIBUTES TO THE TEES, BY NATIVES AND STRANGERS, COLLECTED AND ARIIAMGED BY THE AUTHOR OF "PAR AND NEAII." With c-oriscious pride I view the liaiul Of faitliful friends that round me stand ; For they're a wreath of pearls — and I Tlic silken strinj; on winch they lie ! T'ER-^iAN Sonnet. KOK I'KIVATI-; CIKCIU.ATION. D A K LI N H TO N : UAl'l' AND DKESSEIt, I'KINTEKS, HlCll KiiW. 18(54. THE COUPILER'S PREFACF. WnEN, a few months ago, I expressed a wish to form a collection of any scattered verses that mis^ht have been written on the subject which is indicated in my title page, I was surprised at the well-spring of true poetry which, as at the touch of the diviner's rod, I had evoked around me ; — lines, not written for the occasion, but the effusions of time past, and genuine feeling, " Hivetl in the liosoin, like the bag o' tlic bee."' Cnknown to each other— unshared even by familj- or friends — the Absent — the Distant — the Soldier — -the Civilian — each seemed to possess a little hoard of heartf It remembrances which Lad found expression — as all d( tp feelings do — in verse. On the frozen shores of the St. Lawrence — on the burning banks of the Ganges or Sitong— or in yet more remote, though more Anglicised Australia — alike had the calm image of the tranquil Tees haunted the day-dreams of the nnwilling Absentee. Nor had they who still dwelt upon its banks grown insensible to its attractions, as visitors supposed, but felt that Nature's charms could never tire — "nor custom stale her infinite varietj'." Many interesting poems, too, were laid before me which had been preserved in different families, and de- scended from prior generations, and my first idea was to combine the " tributes " of the present century and the last, in a work divided into different parts ; but I found 825067 II that that intention must be postponed, though it is by no means relinquished, as increasing my compilation to an extent, as vrell as occasioning a delay, much beyond what I had for the present projected — and that as not merely in date, but in style and manner, the widest differences existed between them, it would be better to arrange them in entire independence of each other. It is with a feeling of pride and pleasure — and many thanks for the share they have borne in it— that I now pre- sent this little compilation to the friendly living contribu- tors whose thoughts and recollections 1 have thus sought to perpetuate, while heaving a sigh to the memory of those who are no more. And should the eyes of any readers less interested in the theme, casually rest upon the lines, they too may be reminded of localities they love — of village scenes and native streams, still present to their minds, — and all those home feelings, in distance and in absence, which may lead them to sympathize in similar reminiscences. E. M. CONTENTS. SPIRIT OP HOME HKCOr.LKCTIONS OF IirinVOKTH-Ul'OX-TET^S THE TEKS .... TIIK HOY OX THE BANIv's DIX'LIVITV ASLEEP IX MEMOIUA.M THE DVIXG girl's LAMKXT FOR UOME TIIF, TWO KIVKRS UPTURN TO HOME KECOLLECTIOXS ON RETURXIXG THE soldier's RETUKX MY heart's JIADOXXA sonnets on a nightingalk itik valley of the ticks to jiy native river THE SOLttlKll's FAREWELL THE MARBLE TABLET THE soldier's GRAVE TO A YEW TREE ON THE BANKS OF THE TEES SONNET TO TASSO POAVER OF MEXTAL ASSOCIATION . THE FREEDOM OF THE SHRINE VILLAGE GRAVES .... THE CHURCHYARD ON THE BANK MY NATIVE SCENES THE river's flow AVHAT I've seen THE compiler's ADIEU PAGE . P.W. 1 . CO. o . T.AV. o . C.P. 6 . P.M. 8 . F W. 9 10 12 13 14 16 . G.AV. . J.H. 17 J.C. IS . • 19 20 20 . F.W. . 22 . P.M. 23 24 25 26 . N.V. . P.M. 27 . M C. 28 . P.M. 29 . W.TK. 33 . E.M. 34 38 POEMS, SPIRIT OF HOME, BY F. W. Sweet spirit of Home ! Wherever I go, Still thou art with me, In weal and in woe ; Thine is the sunshine That gladdens the scene, Giving a beauty That, else, were unseen. Thine is the rainbow In storm and in rain, Giving a promise Of joys back again ; Thine is the beacon In peril, the light, That brings into harbour The bark all aright. Hearts may be shattered. And weary with woe, Fortune deride us, And man be our foe ; Still thou sweet spirit, 1 rise above care. Whilst thou art with me I never despair. A Scenes though Arcadian, Abroad that we see, Give not the pleasure We still feel in thee ; Aught that is in them Which we see fair. Is the resemblance That they to thee bear. Sweet spirit of Home, Whilst thou art with me, Ne'er shall my soul yield To dark destinj' ; Tliou art the anchor — Strong, firm, and secure, Enabling my soul To bear and endure. RECOLLECTIONS OF HURWORTH- URON-TEES. Written after his return from a visit there to friends. BY THK KKV. C. (i. There is a Village where I ween. If peace and love on earth can dwell ; 'Tis where of late, that Village green, Held o'er my heait its magic spell. 'Tis there the fairest of all streams, That ever ghiddened moital sight. Its empire to my vision seems To liold in undisputed right. TJpnn the beauteous hanks of Tees, 'I'liat village opens to the view ; No spot methinks on earth can jdcase. And clnrni llw iiiind ;is tliat imii (Id, Full many a lovely liill aud glen, "Within these British isles combine, T'entranco and captivate our ken, But Hurworth, none so well as thine ! In leisure hours I've paced along- The hanks of Tees for many a mile, And where the linnet trilled his song I paused to catch his strains awhile. Oft in 'mid stream, on some rough stone, Standing to meet the western gale, I've listened to the silvery tone Of bells that swept athwart the vale. Those Village bells I'm fain to say, Have a peculiar charm for me. They cheer the pilgrim on his way, And tell of Home's festivit^^ The village peasants born and reared Within those scenes so bright and free, Seemed lost to fathom what appeared So passing fair and blithe to me. E'en so it is ; — whate'er each day Our mortal vision can behold ; Becomes, as time rolls on its waj', Insipid as a tale twice told. But if in some sequestered sj^ot, Where Natuic's seen in grave attire ; Like that apportioned to my lot. Where nought the fanc}' can inspire, — If there w'e've spent our mortal years, In calm and undisturbed repose ; And thence transplanted — where appears Land where Klysian water Hows, A strange ineftable deliglit O'er every mortal sense will roll ; Like that which there eutianeed mj- sight, And mocked awhile my stern control. And loth my rustic Muse woiild be lu heedless mood to pass thee by Unsung — for thou wast dear to me, Fair Hurworth's beauteous sanctuary. Oft it hath been my lot to grieve, And iiK)urn beside some Village fane Neglected, while I sought to weave Some lays — memorials of its wane. But here a feeling difterent far, Can.e o'er my glad and chastened breast ; Akin to that when IJethlehem's star. Made Bethlehem's shepherds once so blest. Here proofs of noblest art are seen, Wrought by the Pastor's liberal hand ; Where Nature's choicest gifts liave beeu Strewn so profusely o'er the land. No niggard parsimony there Disclosed her mean and sordid mind ; But grateful hearts aud pious care, To rear that village fane combined. Within those courts 'twas mine to lead Tlie worship of devoted lu arts ; And tliere proclaim the Christian creed Consistdlt throughout all its parts. Tlure in His temple did we iiuft, And chaunt in unison our laj' ; 'I Ik re too before His mercy seat Our grateful homage did we jiav. There too I spake of Him who died Lost Man to rescue and to save ; And liow through Ilitn, the crucified, There's hope for Man beyond the grave. Yon stream our mortal thirst may slake, And aid us in our mortal strife ; But that pure draught He bids us take, Endureth to eternal life. Then farewell, Hurworth, happy plain ! And you, kind hearted friends, adieu ! From home whene'er I roam again, My heart will yearn to roam to you ! THE TEES. BY T. W., DARLINGTON. I love thy murmuring melody, the music of thy streams. The gleaming gold that quivering clothes thy brow in sunny gleams. The tints that tell of summer life that glitter on thy breast, The ceaseless hum of thy wild course that laughs in its unrest ; The crystal depths that lave thy banks of freshest loveliest green, The sunlit smile of eve's last kiss that dimples o'er the scene. 1 love, oh ! how I love, to roam 'mid glories such as these, That speak of high and holy things beside the swelling Tees, I love to mark the wanton wing careei-ing in its pride. As scudding o'er thj' plumy rills its noiseless footsteps glide ; To watch the bird of beauty Hit athwart each glassy bay. Or catch the rainbow bubbles as they hurry fast awaj'. To gaze deep in thy bosom where the softly mirroreii skies Seem a spirit-land of loveliness that in cradled beauty lies. I feel, oh ! how I feel, the spell that liaunts each M'illowy nook, That lingers o'er each serpent sweep, and curve, and pebbly brook. I have trod thy banks in solitude, and worshipped at thy shrine, When eve's soft gold amid the leaves blushed o'er the day's decline. Thou ever onward monarch, I love thy gentle flow, When the music of the wild bird comes floating o'er thy brow. I love thee in thy majesty when armed with giaut force. The proud, the chainless, and the strong, thou rushest ou thy course. I love thee when the Summer sun in full meridian blaze Showers on thy breast a burnished vest of scintillating rays. I love thee at the stilly hour when clad in silvery light. The Moon in qiieenly dignity looks from her stariy height, I love with all a poet's Are thy banks and flow'ry glades, Thy bubbling bells and foaming rills, thy trelliced bowers and shades. And oft again I hope t' enjoy, beside thy fairy streams, That sunshine of the soul which gilds the rapt enthusiast's dreams. TIIK HOY ON TIIK I'.ANK'S DHCLIVITV ASLKKl'. HV A YOINO 1,AI>Y, r. V. Deep solitude was on tlic barren scar. And rivci', rippling on its rocky way ; In Sabbath stillufss I'hdbus rolled his t iir Down the l)liic litaven of suiniuer's sweetest day. T Simple and few the features of the scene, The rock, the river, and the concave bhie ; No type of man to mar the calm serene. Or bring his wild unqviiet world to view. And moods there are of soul when such enchant. With Nature's spirit high discourse we hold ; But soon humanity asserts her want Of sympathy with things of kindred mould. Then small the solace Nature's voice supplies. And cold the eloquence of wind and wave ; They heed us not, or mock with faint replies The feelings that far different answer crave. Ha ! What lights up the bareness of the scene, And gives a human interest to the spot ? Linking its bald sterility, I ween, With thoughts and feelings of the common lot. Oh ! sunburnt truant, in thy pastime stayed. And bound beneath the great magician's spell ; How sweet thy slumbers on the rude cliff laid. When shall my throbbing temples rest as well ? With limbs loose thrown, how perfect thy repose. Lulled on our general mother's kindly breast ; Life's smoothest balm has bid thine eyelids close. And opes them only to be bright and blest. But life with thee is all too young and gay, To waste its moments in unconscious bliss ; Up, loiterer ! and enjoy life's little day, [this ! Know, coming years shall bring thee nought like The plover fans thee with unheeding wing, The bramble wantons her alluring spray ; The cliff's wild tenants to their coverts spring, Where sleep o'ertook thee on thy venturous way. 8 Now up the steep thy boimding steps advance, To manhood's prime his long-lost joys return ; Awhile he follows thee with envious glance, Then turns to muse, to marvel and to mourn. m MEMORIAM. BY "a friend of the foeegoing. But what binds lis, friend to friend, But that soul with soul can blend ? Soul-like were those days of yore — Let us wallv in soul onue more ! — Uhland. By the same river have we strolled together, By the'same banks we've moralized of yore ; In daylight, moonlight— winter, sximmer weather, We've gazed upon that stream — we've trod that shore, But thou !— wilt tread it, gaze on it, no more ! I gaze upon it still, with vacanfgaze — That sees not now the scream that is but was ; Back to life's earlier sources memory strays. And turns to all it had, from all it has ! Why must the past the present still surpass ? Oh ! blent by thee, they yet are both mine own. Those lines — that sketch- -thou gifted one worv thine ; Again with thee I wander forth alone ; Again I trace thy pencil, read tliy line. And feel, what once was oitrs, niou'mad'st for E.M. 9 THK DYING GIKL'S LAMKNr FOK HOME. BY F W, Cari'j' ine back to that swi'd spot of earth, Home of my heart, and the scene of ray birth ; Cany uie back, ere in death my eyes close, Elsewhere, oh ! elsewhere, I cannot repose. Dailj' and hourly swift time sees me more Near and more near to death's gloomy shore ; Ere I may reach it, oh ! let me first see Home of my childhood, so sacred to me. There is the tree underneath whose calm shade, Oft with my playmates — oft I have played ; Dancing around it like fairies in glee, Dancing with hearts that beat joyously free. There is the stream wifliin whose bright wave, Sportive with pleasure my feet loved to lave ; And in whose mirror I thought I could see Spirits below that were smiling on me ! There is the church with its aspect so calm. Where I first learned to join in ihe sweet sacred psalm, And where I first knelt in devotion and prayer. In union with others, for God's holy care. There too are the faces I loved when a cliild. Beaming for me with their looks kindlj' mild ; Fain would my eyesight again them behold. Filled with affection as they were of old. Carry me back then ; at home let me be. When the angel of death gives his signal for me ; That my spirit may rest on that sweet spot of eartli And T may repose where I first had my birih ! It 10 THE TWO in VERS. Lines ivritteii on the bunks oftJie Sitony, in Bunniih. BY F. w. The sun has set, and (^uick his light Is swallowed up by dark' browed night ; And sweet, oh ! passing sweet the time, This moraeut is in Eastern clime. Beneath a Tamarind tree I sit, Whilst fire-flies start around and liit, Now here, now there, and brighter growing, As darkness o'er the earth is flowing ; Whilst 'neath ray feet tliy waves, Sitoug, Flow wiih a current deep and strong, I musing sit, and catch the breeze. And tliink upon thy banks, Tees ! II. The days come back again to me — The days of youthful revelry ; A thousand thoughts of love and homo. Ere yet my footsteps learn'd to roam. The wild flower in the Liuely lane I gather in my hand apain ; And give to her M'ho close stands by. And catch thanks from her light blue eye ; And careless of tlie way we sped, Witli summer scenes before us spread ; We loiter long amidst the trees That_ shade thy bank;-, my mudi luv'd Tecs. III. 'llic faces loved (hen — where are ihey ? .\re many like me, far away ? Tn foreign lands, jierhaps, like nio '1 biuk now nn scenes ol' inCiiuev : And picture me as I see them, 111 happy days of boyhood then ; And man}' more perhaps arc fled To the dark regions of the dead ; The changed too — they no doubt are many, And I, perhaps, as changed as any, Since hvst I sat at peace and ease, Upon thy banks, my still-lov'd Tees IV. And still my spirit longs to see Those dear lov'd scenes of infancy ; The scenes endeared by all that can Make them the holiest themes to man ; That with him like good angels stay, To watch him on his lonely way ; And keep him worthy of the light That led him Hrst to think aright ; Those early lessons ne'er forgot. Wherever fate may fix his lot ; Such thoughts come back — such thoughts as these, A\"hilst thinking on thy banks, Tees I V. Where shall lu}' grave be— oft I say. Shall it be foreign — far away From scenes which 1 liave loved so well ? At sea, with not a stone to tell AVhere I shall rest beneath the wave? Ah ! no, — maj- none such be my grave ; But let it be — I hope and pi'ay. On scenes that saw my earliest daj- ; The ground wherein my fathers sleep, May it mj- ashes also keep ; While thy soft murmur on the breeze Might play around my tomb, Tecs ! 12 II E T U K N TO H il E , BY F W. 3Iy pilgrimage is over, At home I am again ; With feelings of a lover Here would I aye remain. Again live in the rapture That home scenes can insi)ire- ; With these and genial nature '^o foreign aids desire. My native village standeth In beauty and in pride ; And well the love eoinmandeth Of all who there abide. A fairer spot can never I5e trod by human feet ; Where solace lloweth ever, From scenes so calm and sweet. At eve still let me wander Along thy banks, Tees ! And watch thy course meander, O'erhung with verdant trees ; Tlic village homes in beauty, The church rise on the hill ; My heart beats low in duty To all these dear scenes sfilj. At tliis soft hour, reflection Again will issue forth. And strciigtiicu my atfeetion 'I'o tlir. , my jihice of birth. For lurtuiics sad and various A compensation give ; That is no more precarious Whilst I on earth maj' live. In calm and holy quiet, Like all around 1 see ; Far from the world's vain riot, My life I'd trust to Thee ! IIECOLLECTIONS ON KETL^IINING. BY F. ^\'. I thought upon the happy days, the glorious days of youth, When life was pure, and all things breathed of happiness and truth ; I thought upon ttiose happy days, I thought of them and wept, For thousand thoughts within me rose, whieh for long years had slept. I thought of days when hope was bright, undarkened with a cloud. And when a voice spoke in my soul, in language clear and loud. Of deeds that I might henceforth do, a name on earth to gain, And show to all my fellow men [ had not lived in vain. I thought of young companions, who like myself were free To pass the present hours in merriment and glee ; And in the future revelled, as the scene whereon they could Achieve some deed deserving the name of great and good. I thought upon the maiden, to whom I paid my vows, Ik'sidi' the river's margin, beneath the elm tree boughs ; I thought on her and on those vows, they had been breathed in vain ; We parted shortly after— uuil never met again! 14 I thouuht upon tiles'^ liaupy days, uud what a contrast now, When years have planted -wrinkles and age upon my brow, Those glorious di-eams arc vanished in realities awaj^, And nothing now is left me their value to repay I Long years of weary wandering on land and sea I've passed, And fain would taste the ])leasures of home and peace at last ; But these seem to evade me, like water in the grasp ; I seize them but, alas I they leave me nothing in my clasp. The dreams of hope I cherished no longer meet my view, Xor can I, in returning, a youthful heart renew. That looked with faith and confidence on all within its sphere And never knew the demon powers of sorrow and of fear. I think upon those happy days — those hapi)y days gone by' I think upon them with a deep, a fond heart-yearning sigh ; And fain would hope thoy once again might yet retui n to me, And I again as happy and as hoping yet might be I THE SOLDIER'S llETURN ; Or the Perils of Peace. r,\ HIS imoTHEH, F.W. I Escaped from many a battle lield, From dangers lioili l>y land and sea, AVhere fortune o'er liini luld lier shield And kept liiiu from deatli's terrors free, In Chilianwallali's fatal plains, He fought amidst the fearful fight. And heard th' expiring groans and pains Of comrades dying in bis sight, ji At Hamnuggar and (ioojerat, The daring passage of Clunad, lie also fuuglit — still Fortune sat Above him — he her sliield still bad ; 1.") Through all these dangers safely passed, lie thought that wlien sweet peace agaiu Had brought him soldier's rest at last, He would in safety now remain. Ill He left the ranks— to home returns : He bade farewell to war's alarms ; His heart for peace and quiet yearns, And urged him to lay down his arms. In occupations free from danger, In England once again he lived ; Nor dreamt that Fate had any stranger Perils for life or limb contrived. IV But no ! a harder lot was his, — A. marriage festival the scene ; A ccntrast strange indeed was this, To one who had such dangers seen. A cannon burst while he stood nigh. His arm was shatter'd— then cut off ; Doomed thus was he for months to be In sufferings deep, and trials rough. He who had fought in battles many, Where death was flying quick around, Had ne'er met fate adverse in any, Nor e'en received a single wound. Was it not hard for him to be The victim of a random shot ? A cripple, thus, we henceforth see, — 7[;,v(l_-h;iv(l ind'id— such e;ivtl\ly lot! 16 n Strange are the waj-s of Providence ! It lifteth up and casteth down. The hopes of mortals, in the sense They wish, success will seldom crown. Then would Ave hope that he whose fate Has thus so strangely been arranged, Will bear misfortune, though 'tis great. With faith in Providence unchanged ! MY HEART'S MADONNA. BY G. W — K. I loved her not as others love, Whose passion is an idle thing. Which fur a moment tills a breast, And wounds, and swiftly spreads its wing ; But tenderly I wooed and won her — For ah ! she was my heart's Madonna ! I loved her not as others love, She touched the only chord love knew ; And pilgrini-likc I knell to her. And found my soul adoring too ; My tale was love, and truth, and honour — Its heroine — my heart's Madonna! I loved her not as others love — Hut 'twas a joy too great to last; I scarcely knew she was of earth Until from earth lier spirit [)ass'(l. All I Death, too, loved! — he looked u[nn\ Iier — And now I inniirii niv heart's Madonna! S X N !■: T s , ity J. ]i., On a Niyhtingale once heard on the Banks of the Tees. [This singular exception to a •icneral nile— tliat the Nightingale is never heard North of tlie (tusc— occurred in tlie vicinity of this villajie about a century ayo, and was coninienioratcd at the time in a poem whicli lias come (Uiw n to us, and of wliich I once possessed a cojiy, l)\it wliicli, unfortunately, canudt now he found, thnuuh it ouuht rather perliaps to lie acccnuited " the gain of a loss " in havius given rise to the foUowiuK; elegant Sou- nets from the pen of a gifted friend. J I Tradition tells— and an old bard the truth Attests with pride in his remembered rhyme — That Philomela " once upon a time" — Perchance 'twas in our grandsire's joyous youth — Was in our bonny Tecsdale nightly heard ; "What was it Northward brought so far the bird, In that so highly favoured year of grace ? And wherefore never since in glorious Spring, Hath wandering Nightingale been known to sing. In that sweet, shady, still, sequestered place ? Say, was the songstress blown unwilling there ; Or in the aim to build, secure, a nest — Lured by the iuiiuenee of the genial air, While feeling love's warm instinct in lur breast ^ ir AVhate'er the cause, 'tis pleasant to recall That once, charming Tees, thy banks were Made vocal by the thrilling rise and fall [thus Of sounds nocturnal, never heard by us ; And tit it were that i'oet's song should blend Witli thine, melodious bird ! in such a scene. ! that such music to my gentle Friend ilv sueh a minstrel once vouchsafed had been 18 How had her raptured ear druak iu the sound, Her lively fancy fondly dwelt upon it, Until the echo of the strain she'd bound Within the magio measure of a Sonnet ! But where the Nightingale no more is heard Eta, with sweeter song, now rivals the sweet bird, in A hundred years ago— so 'tis averred By ancient people, and one Poet's song — On Tees' fair banks a Nightingale was heard Pouring her evening descant loud and long — Did accident, or instinct strangely stirred Make thee fly thus far North, South-loving bird, And was thy featheredlove-mate with thee there ? And was, for once, that favoured grove possest Of Natuje's sweetest minstrel, and the nest Of that more vent'rous Pliiloraelan pair ? If so — Oh ! would that one of the same race Would visit HurworthI and in that sweet place Onee more with song nocturnal strike and please The grateful dwellers on the Banks of Tees. THK VALI.KY OF THE TEES. BY J. C, .IXTN. Delightful A^ile ! my childhood's sweetest scene ! 1 loved to linger in thy flowery flelds, When Nature clad in fairest robes of green, Her fruitful stores in rich abundance yields. Through tangled dell, o'er wooded height and grove, 'Neath where, Tees, thy crystal waters flow, How did I love, in boyhood's days to rove, When purr delights wit bin tbo liosom glow I 19 Thou modest church ! within whose sacred walls Each Sabbath morn the sons of toil repair As each low chime the wandering mind recalls From worldly thoughts to iix itself on prayer. And thou, fair tree ! beneath whose leafy shade, When Summer's scorching beams at noontide glow, I've idly sat — or boyish antics played Where clustering filberts on the branches grow. Farewell, ye fields ! each much lov'd spot adieu, Though other scenes must now my mind engage, Imagination still will turn to j'ou, Till blooming manhood rijjens into age. TO MY NATIVE UIVER, BY THE samp:. I wander on thy fiowery banks, sweet Tees ! at eventide. And gaZe upon the landscape fair that smiles on cither side ; The setting sun in mellow rays his golden radiance thr..ws Upon the calm and crystal stream that gently past mefiows. Alone the murmuring waters break the silence reigning round , And on the balmy Summer air there floats no other sound. Memory recalls the happy hours when first in childhood's bloom I sported on those grassy banks, beside my village home ; Or stretch'd beneath the leafy shade of some tall spreading tree, I've listened to the gushing stream, or to the humming bee ; Till, lulled by the monotony, sleep o'er my eyes would steal And pleasant dreams fiit ihrough my mind — how happy did I feel ! But yet those joys will ne'er return, those careless youthful days, 2(1 The sweetest moments of the life that nothiug can erase From off the tablets of the heart — so deeply printed there, To soothe us when o'erwhelm'd with grief, or when opprest by care. THE SOLDIER'S FAREWELL On leavinfi his Coiudry. liY THE SAME. How proudly glides our gallant ship o'er ocean's glassy breast, As slowly sinks the orb of day with glory in the West ; Yon ros-^ate clouds the rippling waves with golden radiance dye, And calmly 'mong our snowy sails soft evening zephyrs sigh ; We turn one last long ardent gaze on our dear native land, Our noble vessel bears us on, toward India's arid strand. Adieu ! adieu ! my Fatherland — my dear, my cherished home, I go for long, long years upon a foreign strand to roam ; I go to fight my country's cause —perhaps to fight and die. Far from my own lov'd island home, beneath another sky. O.ice more, adieu ! for through the gloom no longer I behold The tall white clifts on England's coast — the cliffs and headland bold. ^\'il(l siorms may rise upon the deep, and angry waves o'erwhelm Our stalwart bark a floating wreck — bereft of mast and helm ; Or should I gain far India's shore, with safety o'er the wave, I there may find, midst thundering war, a soldier's honoured grave, Hul should I die on battle field, or 'neaili wild ocean's foam, .My latest thoughts shall be upon my distant English liome ! THE MAinJLE TABLET. Lines niii///rsl('tl hi/ rcddint/ tlic Inscription on ti Tahlvt in Ifunroiih CIniicli, to the Mi'niorj/ o/'t/ic f'onyoitN/ — a 'i'ouiit/ Ojjivcr. liV 1'. w. Into the village church I pass'd, Willi reverence inid \\\\\\ awe, A solemn cloud my llnuiglils o'eroast — A T:iM( 1 Ihcir i ;iw. 21 'Twas that of one who bore a iiaTue, An honoured name to rae ; Cut off in pride of lif(! and fame, Uuwaru'd by Death's decree. I knew him Avhen lie was a boy, The gay spring time of life ; Ere }'ot to him the cup of joy Had tainted been by strife ; In all things: frank and free, true hearted, And worthy of his name, He left his home, and henca departed, To seek a soldier's fame. In pestilential climes he lived, Where death flies quick abroad. Where few lived long, and have survived • To tread their native sod. Escaped from danger and disease, He hailed his native land ; And little thought, beyond all these. Death lurked so near at hand. Not in the battle field fell he, As brave men wish to die ; Cheering his men to victory, With life's departing cry. A death in glory thus arra^sai Had been his dearest doom ; Whilst honoiu*'s choicest flowers displayed Their beauty o'er his tomb. A random shot, by hands unknown, Transpierced his heart — he fell ! With scarcely time to breathe a groan, Or sav the woid " I-'arcwell." •22 And thus his soul, without a sign Of dissolution near, Sped to its native source divine, To its eternal sphere. Then peace — young Soldier — to thy spirit* Few nobler we can tind ; Though few thy years, high was thy merit In graces of the mind. Respected, loved, almost revered, By all ranks in thy Corps ; Thou hast left a name by deeds endeared To all hearts evermore. Well may surviving friends deplore His early lot with grief ; That life which such high virtues bore Should have a date so brief! The comfort still remains to them 'Midst sorrow at his fate ; He left a name none can condemn, But all might imitate. THE SOLDIER'S GRAVE. BY THE SAME, "Gone I Gone I Fill up the bliiiik ! '— C. N. Soldier rest ! — Life's fitful fever Now on earth for thee is o'er ; Its alarum guns shall never Wake thee from thy slumbers more. Young and brave, and highly cherished, Noblest hopes for thee in view ; Hard, untimely to have perished, Krr thlirnil .'^U'■ll urliaii Imnuiirs I n siiiu, nb, iuiIm iiic "Inc" of (bat -wnl .sJiiiiK 1 viLLACK gi;avi;s. [Snf/f/t'fifc(f hi/ sonic nrir/i/ iiuirlr ours.) «V K. M, Gathering rmnid tis, }i;;xtlierin;^ round, I^ast they till the hallowed ground ; Friends and strangers, young and old, Here their silent meetings hold. Sonic in anguish rent away. Some that sunk in slow decay ; Some that as b}' lightning stroke From their eartlily boiulage broke. Some that calmly sle])t away. To ope their eyes on brighter day ; Hear, Lord I our humble prayers — Let our parting be like theirs ! All have passed the ebon door That opens on the shining shore ; Shining may it be to them — Here, no startling crimes condemn. May their human frailties be. Gracious Lord ! absolved by Thee ; May a family of love Meet, as here, in bliss above ! When beside them we shall slec]), May o\ir rest be calm and deep. That it may — oh ! j^rant us grace To run with zeal our lieavenward race. While we trust to Thee alone. Let our faith by works be shown ; Sterner judgment ^/(cy but win Who make their faith a cloak for sin. 28 Lft us nut our oAvn weak pow'r Trust in dire temptation's hour ; Let us cast on Thee our care — • liCt our panoply be prayer ! Let us, armed and strengthened thus, Prove the faith that dwells in \is ; Yea, as labourers for their pay, " Work while it is called to-day." Grant that when our work is o'er We to heavenly rest may soar ; When before Thee we appear, " AVell done, thou faithful servant,'' hear I From the bosom of the earth When we spring to second birth, Grant that from this lowly sod All that rise, may rise to God ! tup: CIIUllCH ON THE BANK. BV M. C. Strangers have told mo how they lo\e to muse AVithin thy soothing precincts, sacred pile ; While the rapt soul eacli solemn thought pursues. Lulled by the murmurs of the Tecs the while. Or whenr the Church's peal of Sabbath bells G\iided their footsteps to the house of i)rajTr ; As the soft echo, o'er the stream tlmt swells, I'repared the soul to bend in reverence there. If sneh tin; feelin^^s in the stranger's mind NVliere no sad thoughts of scvend lies iiilmde. Deep, deep, 1 own, the secret charm 1 lind ; A elidvd is i(iiiche(l in sorrow's plaintive nuMid. This village chur.'hyaid is my kindrcd'.s bed, Aiu[ all my ihiiuglits luc ccutt red in the dead. 29 MY NATIVE SCENES. Addrest to a Poetical Friend* " And I, too, am Arcailiaii ! " Banks of tlie Tees I ye are beautiful and green — Flowers, the year ronnd, on your sunny slope are springing; Though many a lovely spot in many a land I've seen, To tlie fairest as tlie dearest, in thine uiy lieart was clinging. Ear to the East, blue hills are brightly swelling — • Far to the West, other hills close the scene ; Oh ! what a Paradise, meet for Poet's dwelling, The soft vale thy banks along, stretching verdantly between ! Meet for Poet's haunts, tho' a Milton were the bard ! Meet for Poet's home, tho' the minstrel were a Scott. t Though to a woman it was destiny's award That her muse should inherit and consecrate the spot ! Scenes where that j'oung Muse first started into life-- Scenes where life's meridian still found her straying, With what greater charms could existence have been rife Than to shed upon your charms an existence uudecaying ? ( ' Though no eyes could gaze on you with the tenderness of hers, Nor have seen in you the charm love sheds on the belov'd ; Heal charms to impartial eyes still Nature here confers — Through the prism of true poetry how glorious had they proved ! »Now, alas ! no more. See her poem, page li, ami lines to her memory, p. 6. t Alhnling to Ilowitfs ileliKlitful Iidiik, " The Haunts and Homes of the Poets." 30 But tliongli no mighty Minstrel amid them may liave dwelt, Yet not without a charm where a humbler Muse hath been ; Xot without a charm where feelings have^been^felt — Where friends — and where a Fkiknd — have hallowed all the scene. How well they frame the picture, those high enclosing hills ! How fair is the picture, and worthy of the frame ! How lovely is the landscape, with its meadows, woods, and rills. And thou, smiling river — always tranquil, never tame ! Tees — Father Tees ! on thy banks I sported first. When life yet was new, and I fancied it was fair ; There, poetic dreams by my lonely soul were nurst — Glorious were the dreams that have perished in despair. Yet better hopes were mine, and with less of earthly leaven ; Better hopes were mine, — to a woman, what is fame ? Humbler joys' here below — higher destinies in heaven — Ah I could slip but seeuro them, those should be her aim. Nor hast thou been iinsung, oh ! thou River of my Sires,* — Old Barnard's stately tower, aiul Uokeby's fairy scene. Where the Greta to sweet union with thy kindred stream aspires, By the charming Border ^linstnl immortalized have been. Tecs — Father Tees I I have seen thy rocky source — All thy wild meanderings 1 have tracked with delight ; Till ships proudly rode on thy grandly widening course, And ()((au received and absorbed ihee fmui the sight Willi fur iK'nrty n I'cntiiry ami ii liiilf liiivo ihvi'll ii|iiim ils liaiiks. .•n And su