THE 
 
 FOREST PILGRIMS, 
 
 AND 
 
 OTHER POEMS. 
 
 BY 
 
 M. F. BIGNEY, 
 
 
 
 NEW ORLEANS: 
 J A M E S A . G R B S H A M , 
 
 92 CAMP STREET, 
 x E w YORK: M . no o i> A n Y. 
 
 1867. 
 
: 
 
 ENTERED, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1866, by 
 M. DOOLADY, 
 
 In the Clerk s Ofllce of the United States District Court for the 
 Southern District of New York. 
 
 JOHN J. REED, PRINTER AND 8TEREOTYPKR, 
 
 43 Centre Street, N. Y. 
 
THIS 
 
 LITTLE VOLUME, 
 
 PRODUCED IN "HOURS OF IDLENESS," 
 
 IS 
 
 RESPECTFULLY AND AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED 
 TO 
 
 FRIENDS AND RELATIVES, 
 
 WIDELY SCATTERED OVER A "BOUNDLESS CONTINENT. 
 New Orleans, December, 1866. 
 
 M19181! 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 The Forest Pilgrims 13 
 
 The Lament 31 
 
 The Song of Commerce 35 
 
 The Mother s Lyric 37 
 
 The Moosehead Lake 39 
 
 Innocence 41 
 
 The Legend of Belle Isle 43 
 
 The "Wind-God s Song 47 
 
 A Mother s Questionings 49 
 
 To the Magnolia 51 
 
 Hope A Fragment 53 
 
 Last Island 55 
 
 The Shadow on the Pillow 62 
 
 The Eagle and the Dove 65 
 
 Lines to .... .69 
 
X CONTEXTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Lines on George Cooke, Esq 71 
 
 Eeligion, Poetry and Music 73 
 
 Address 75 
 
 Lines 78 
 
 The Mayflower of the North 80 
 
 Fragment of a Poern 82 
 
 Wreck of the Nautilus 84 
 
 Wonders of Nature 88 
 
 What is Love like? 91 
 
 The Mourners Wail 93 
 
 The Pleasures of Piety 96 
 
 Visit of the Sunbeams to the Falls of Niagara. . . 98 
 
 The Song of Labor 100 
 
 Henry Clay 103 
 
 Light 108 
 
 Keep Step to the Music 110 
 
 Lines 112 
 
 The Dream of the First Infant 114 
 
 Ode to Spring 119 
 
 Lines 123 
 
 Farewell 125 
 
 The Forsaken One ; 12G 
 
 The Journey of a Sigh 131 
 
 A Vision., ..132 
 
CONTENTS. XI 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Song of the New Year 143 
 
 Impromptu 146 
 
 I Eemember Thee 147 
 
 Lines 149 
 
 Lines 150 
 
 Lines 151 
 
 The Greek Slave 153 
 
 O, think not that I do not Feel ! 155 
 
 Nothing to Eat : 157 
 
 The Ways of Christendom 163 
 
 My Brothers Graves 180 
 
 Solitude 182 
 
 Lines to 184 
 
 On the Death of an Aged Clergyman 185 
 
 Lines to 187 
 
 Lines 188 
 
 Little Willie 189 
 
 O let me Dream 191 
 
 For Thee, my Love, for Thee ! 193 
 
 The Light of My Loved One s Eyes 195 
 
 Forgetting Thee ? 197 
 
 Out, out into the Sunlight 198 
 
 The Golden Chain 201 
 
 Song of Welcome 203 
 
Xll . CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Domestic Felicity 205 
 
 Give me the Harp : " 
 
 Lines 21.. 
 
 The Coming of the Spring 214 
 
 Brothers, Arise 216 
 
 Gone 219 
 
 I ve Kissed Her in a Dream 220 
 
 The Parting 222 
 
 Song of the Netf Year 224 
 
 Science and Art 227 
 
 Ella Lee 233 
 
 The Voyage of Life 235 
 
 New Year Day Jan. 1st, 1863 241 
 
 A Poetical Bouquet of the United States 244 
 
 Compensation 255 
 
 Lines . . . . 258 
 
THE FOREST PILGRIMS. 
 
 [There is a tradition to the effect that one of the original 
 Pilgrim Fathers, after sojourning for some years in the Old 
 Colony, became dissatisfied with the treatment he had 
 received at the hands of his brethren, and with his two 
 children, a son and daughter, abandoned civilization, crossed 
 the Alleghany mountains, and both he and his were slain by 
 the Indians.] 
 
 A LONELY cottage in New England stood, 
 Where a fair glade in the majestic wood 
 Opened its hill-side bosorn to the breeze, 
 Whose wings had wanton d o er Atlantic seas. 
 Beside a casement in that cottage were 
 A brother and a sister, fond and fair : 
 Suited to each, there was in either face, 
 A well-apportioned beauty which might grace 
 Earth s highest courts ; while round them love 
 
 divine 
 Threw its effulgence, as a sacred sign. 
 
 Twas on an eve in May. The rosy sheen 
 Of evening lingered o er that sylvan scene, 
 
14 THE FOREST PILGRIMS. 
 
 And the fond promise of a morrow, bright, 
 Gave added glories to approaching night. 
 On the fair scene the gazers, lingering, look. 
 The air was balm. The music of a brook 
 Mingled melodious with the vesper hymn 
 Of nature s minstrels from each forest limb. 
 ; Twas their last evening gaze. That lovely pair 
 Would wander with the dawn they knew not 
 
 where. 
 
 Forsaking and forsaken ask not why 
 The tear-drop lingered in each youthful eye. 
 
 Their sire approached ; a hale though aged man, 
 In whose determined visage one might scan 
 A look of firmness, in which deep intent 
 And pious resignation both were blent. 
 A man he was whom force could ne er subdue ; 
 Who rendered worship, free and pure and true, 
 To Freedom, Purity and Truth to God 
 Who guides in mercy His avenging rod. 
 He stood within the cottage of the glade, 
 O er which the maple threw its em rald shade, 
 And smiled upon his children. He had braved 
 The storm s loud fury when it madly raved ; 
 The persecutor s ire ; the vengeful cry 
 Of the red warrior, when he sought to try 
 His prowess on the pale-face. To possess 
 A lodgment in the boundless wilderness, 
 Where God alone in love and nature smiled 
 A sanctuary in the pathless wild 
 He had resolved to leave his cottage home 
 
THE FOREST PILGRIMS. 15 
 
 With his two treasures farther still to roam. 
 
 " Fair ones," said he, " fond children of my love, 
 William, Matilda, may the powers above 
 Direct our counsels and our footsteps guide 
 When far away we wander side by side. 
 God be our guiding star, our beacon light, 
 Our never-failing refuge day and night, 
 And blessings will attend our weary way, 
 And be our answers when we humbly pray. 
 
 All things are ready. With the morning sun 
 Our westward journey must be well begun. 
 We seek a home where God s green mountains 
 
 high 
 
 Uprear their crests to kiss the bending sky. 
 I sought this shore, one of the Pilgrim band, 
 Who fled from persecution s iron hand, 
 But those who were my brethren mock me now 
 With that old taunt I m holier than thou ! 
 O, they forget the trials past ; the toil 
 Which made this ancient wilderness to smile ! 
 The sacred rights of conscience they arraign ; 
 The sacred banner of the Cross they stain, 
 And while from persecution they are free 
 They learn to persecute both mine and me. 
 What longer binds us here ? Freedom of thought 
 The boon for which this solitude I sought 
 No longer here is found. The vasty deep 
 Chants ceaseless dirges where the ashes sleep 
 Of what was once your mother. Let them swell 
 These sad but holy tears ! Yet bid farewell, 
 
16 THE FOREST PILGRIMS. 
 
 Without repining, to these sylvan scenes : 
 We ll seek another home where evergreens 
 Hang their fair curtains round some peaceful spot, 
 And there in freedom will we build our cot." 
 
 Wild was the fancy of that fearless man, 
 Who sought no counsel, but of God, to plan. 
 The way he was to wander. In his choice 
 He felt the promptings of " a still small voice," 
 Which whispered ever hope and trust and cheer, 
 And banished from his soul all thoughts of fear. 
 
 The parent-pilgrim, ere he slept that night, 
 And ere he started with the morrow s light 
 Poured forth his spirit to the Guide above 
 The Perfect Counsellor, whose name is Love 
 Praying protection from that Master-hand 
 Which guided Moses to the promised land. 
 
 The first faint glimmering of morning sheen, 
 Contending empire with night s calm serene, 
 Broke in the east to hail that triune band 
 Bending their steps as to some promised land. 
 And on, and on they journeyed, till all trace 
 Of bigot-bondage and of Europe s race 
 Was lost in the deep forest s pathless wild ; 
 But Nature triumphed there, and Freedom smiled, 
 And faith, with stronger pinion, sought the throne 
 Of Him who rules the universe alone. 
 
 happy wanderers ! with little blest ! 
 Contentment dwelt with them, a sacred guest. 
 The forest gave them sustenance and shade 
 And every eve a tent of boughs was made, 
 
THE FOREST PILGRIMS. 17 
 
 Where, serenaded by the whip-poor-will, 
 In peace they slept. The kindled flame was still 
 Their watchful guardian from the beasts of prey, 
 Till with their prayers they hailed returning day. 
 
 Thus on they wandered. Flow rets everywhere 
 Adorned their pathway and perfumed the air, 
 While many a tuneful tenant of the grove 
 On painted pinions, seemed with them to rove. 
 The scenes around were fair, and wild, and bright, 
 As poet s dream, tinged with elysian light, 
 And all was blended in one blissful prayer 
 To Him whose glory fills earth, sea and air. 
 
 At length, on Alleghany s crest they stood 
 A crest, by echoes haunted, crowned with wood, 
 Just as the sun, at close "of fairest day, 
 Gilded that summit with a golden ray. 
 Matilda here, enamored of the scene, 
 Gazed on the wide expanse of living green, 
 As a new revelation, kindly given 
 By the great Architect of earth and heaven. 
 She saw beneath her vasty heaps of earth, 
 Like giant children of chaotic birth, 
 Nestling in fondness, or reclined at rest, 
 Around that higher heap s maternal breast. 
 She loved to think upon their rock-bound base, 
 Which God alone could fashion or displace : 
 She loved the flowers which grew beneath the 
 
 trees 
 
 And gave their odors to the wooing breeze ; 
 She loved the birds soft pean, when they strove 
 
18 THE FOREST PILGRIMS. 
 
 To still the hoarser echoes of the grove ; 
 She loved the murmur of the mountain rill, 
 Which all those ancient forest heights did fill 
 With gushing melody ; while every pine, 
 Through its high boughs, became a harp divine. 
 
 But from that Pisgah-top her worthy sire 
 Looked on the Western vallies, to admire 
 Their wide-spread promise. On and onward still, 
 Spake the firm voice of his controlling will ; 
 And on and onward did that band proceed : 
 All joyously determined ; they agreed 
 To brave the torrent and the rough descent : 
 Danger found courage : peace became content. 
 
 Far in the vale advanced, at length they found 
 A beauteous tract of undulating ground ; 
 And there, on a savannah of the wood, 
 The village of a forest-chieftain stood. 
 They sought the hunters of the wild : their Brave 
 The welcome of a kingly warrior gave. 
 He bade them culture friendship s fruitful tree ; 
 To smoke the calumet of peace : to be 
 His honored guests, the children of his care, 
 Welcome as flow rs of Spring ; as morning, fair. 
 
 The elder pilgrim bowed, and thus replied : 
 " Brother and Chief, thou seest by thy side 
 A man who knows of sorrow, not of fears ; 
 Whose locks are whit ning with the frost of years; 
 Whose strength begins to fail him, and whose 
 
 sight 
 Is not so piercing as in manhood s might. 
 
THE FOREST PILGRIMS. 19 
 
 I am too old for war. Time s tide must cease 
 Ere long for me ; then let it roll in peace, 
 While I upon the changeful stream am borne 
 To that fair land which knows of no return 
 That happy home the spirit s hunting-ground 
 Where ever-bearing trees of life abound 
 That lovely island where the wea*y rest. 
 And the Great Spirit smiles upon the blest. 
 Give me a spot of ground which shall be free ; 
 I ll rear a lodgment there for mine and me, 
 And there we ll live. With corn I ll plant my 
 
 laud, 
 
 And fondly nurse it with a careful hand, 
 And when the Spirit of the Harvest sends 
 Those yellow treasures, which His bounty lends 
 To those who till the soil, the blest increase 
 I ll share with thee in thankfulness and peace. 
 My boy amid your hunters shall be free 
 To tread the forest, and to climb the tree ; 
 To speed the arrow in its destined course, 
 With noble daring and with manly force ; 
 To scorn the fetters of the crouching slave, 
 And speak amid the Councils of the Brave. 
 My girl, the tender flow ret of my care, 
 Must live within my cabin, to prepare 
 My maize and venison ; to watcli my fire, 
 And cheer with songs her brother and her sire. 
 Your maidens songs, she too shall learn to sing 
 Blithe as the birds which carol in the Spring 
 To welcome back the hunter from the chase, 
 
20 THE FOREST PILGRIMS. 
 
 And the young Brave who triumphs in the race. 
 
 Chieftain, my words are ended : wilt thou bring- 
 
 To me the shelter of thy eagle wing, 
 
 When storms are sweeping through the clouds 
 above ; 
 
 And when they pass the quiet of the dove ?" 
 " It shall be as thou wilt " the Chief resumed ; 
 
 And then he called around his warriors plumed, 
 
 And, with a graceful movement of his hand, 
 
 He said : " Go bound a portion of my land 
 
 To be to the pale children of the sun 
 
 As tillage ground." He spoke and it was done. 
 Time fleetly passed, ^sight s empress waxed 
 and waned ; 
 
 Still, harmony and sweet contentment reigned 
 Between the pilgrims and their forest friends, 
 And every day new proof of friendship lends. 
 The son and daughter of the forest Chief, 
 " Young Buffalo" and the fair " Maple-leaf," 
 To William and Matilda soon became 
 As children of one father. Choicest game 
 Young Buffalo would to Matilda bring ; 
 And William unto Maple-leaf would sing- 
 The songs of love, and read the Book of Life, 
 Whose words divine should calm all earthly strife. 
 The youthful chieftain was of stalwart frame, 
 And Maple-leaf, a dusky nymph, whose fame 
 Had circled far and wide. How dear, how fair, 
 The pale-faced strangers to these Indians were ! 
 How wonderful the stories that they told ! 
 
THE FOREST PILGRIMS. 21 
 
 How marvellous a speech which they behold 
 A silent speech which to the eye appears, 
 And mocks the office of the idle ears ! 
 But stranger still than e en the written word, 
 Were the great tidings which thus came, unheard 
 A message from the skies. How fair and bright 
 Seemed Bethlehem s Star, which made their dark 
 ness light ; 
 
 How grand and holy that sublime decree, 
 Which bade from wrath to come the sinner flee 1 
 Wild superstitions all were cast away, 
 As an old garment, and eternal day 
 Beamed on their minds, till their uncultured lays 
 Were all translated into songs of praise. 
 
 And then in turn the dusky converts told 
 Their wild traditions from the days of old, 
 And the strange stories which had filled their ears 
 Of pale-faced nations who of gods were peers. 
 How they had come from a far, distant shore ; 
 How vast canoes these wondrous people bore ; 
 How in their vengeance, with a potent breath, 
 They bade the thunder do their work of death ; 
 How, in their realm, the sun s refulgent crest, 
 Waves o er his sea-bed in his hours of rest, 
 With golden glory which affords delight 
 To warrior-ghosts that wander in the night ; 
 How, in vast bubbles, sailing through the sky, 
 They trace the secrets of the stars on high ; 
 And how wild beasts, subdued at their command, 
 Whirl them in chariots o er the solid land. 
 
22 THE FOREST PILGRIMS. 
 
 At length strange rumors circled far and near, 
 Pointed and venomed by a dusky seer, 
 And all the tribe seemed brought to direst grief, 
 By the apostate children of their Chief. 
 A council soon was called, when twas decreed 
 That the pale-fac d deceivers all should bleed. 
 The seer pronounced their doom : 
 
 " Accursed be they, 
 
 Who would not such ungrateful demons slay ! 
 Accurs d be all who would not tortures bring 
 The poison d arrow and the serpent s sting 
 The burning fagot of the red man s ire, 
 Which leads to death by slow consuming fire. 
 Each pale-face is a fiend ! AVith serpent wile, 
 He crawls and flatters only to beguile ; 
 He steals our lands, deceives us to destroy, 
 And, with fire-water, brings infernal joy, 
 Which maddens every sense and bows the soul 
 In misery and shame. Let thunders roll, 
 And the Great Spirit flash out from the sky, 
 Those flaming arrows which speak vengeance nigh! 
 No home among us for the pale-faced band ! 
 No reptile race to curse our noble land ! 
 The red-man, to be free, must stand alone, 
 And when the white man comes, the white man s 
 
 groan 
 
 Must be the red man s music. Let the feast 
 For the wild vulture and the wilder beast, 
 Be soon prepared. Before three days are o er, 
 Let it be said : These reptiles are no more. " 
 
THE FOREST PILGRIMS. 23 
 
 Soon to the ear of the young Buffalo 
 Such tidings came as whelmed his soul in woe. 
 He heard the doom pronounced against his friends; 
 But the high courage which religion lends, 
 Roused in his soul the will to do and dare ; 
 To save his friends or their worst dangers share. 
 
 Night came a night of storm. The thunder s 
 
 peal 
 
 Seemed on the seer s decree to set the seal 
 Of the Great Spirit. Oak and stately ash 
 Were rived to splinters by the angry flash 
 Of Manitau, the Just ; while the cold rain 
 Of autumn fell unpitying on the plain. 
 
 Through storm and darkness, strong in spite of 
 
 grief, 
 
 Young Buffalo and the fond Maple-leaf, 
 With stealthy steps the pilgrim s cabin sought, 
 And cried " Escape ! we too, will share your lot." 
 
 And hurried preparation soon was made ; 
 A solemn prayer was uttered ; and, afraid 
 Of none but God, that persecuted band 
 Went forth and left no sign. With God s right 
 
 hand 
 
 For shield and guide, their faith became sublime, 
 And persecution seemed earth s foulest crime. 
 The rain, and leaves strewn by the angry blast, 
 Washed out, or hid all trace of where they 
 
 passed ; 
 
 And when the morning came, so fair and bright, 
 How such a day should follow such a night 
 
24 TOE FOREST PILGRIMS. 
 
 Was theme of special wonder. Earth and sky, 
 
 Bathed in the smile of Him who rules on high, 
 
 Seemed filled with peace and promise. As a sign 
 
 It was accepted from the Power divine, 
 
 That the poor pilgrims should be onward led 
 
 As Israel s children, when with manna fed. 
 
 The autumn s frosts with curious chemic skill, 
 
 Had tinted every leaf on vale and hill, 
 
 Till all the forest seemed one fairy scene 
 
 Of gold and crimson, motley brown and green. 
 
 On ripened nuts the playful squir l regaled ; 
 
 High in the air the lordly eagle sailed ; 
 
 And mocking birds, with sweet, melodious tongue, 
 
 Filled all the grove with their orchestral song. 
 
 With grateful hearts the pilgrims onward sped; 
 A leafy carpet neath their feet was spread ; 
 And with one voice all nature seemed to bless 
 That lonely journey through the wilderness. 
 A common danger, which alike they shared ; 
 A common board, at which alike they fared ; 
 A common faith and trust, and that great love 
 Which binds on earth as in the realms above, 
 Filled them with perfect joy. Each day they grew 
 Nearer and dearer. Old, yet ever new, 
 The story of young hearts and young desires 
 Found fresh solution in those holy fires 
 Which stir the pulse to fond affection s glow, 
 And make man s world of happiness below. 
 
 After three days of weary inarch thy came 
 Unto the lodge of Sacato, whose fame, 
 
TPIE FOREST PILGRIMS. 25 
 
 As a great Sachem, spread through all the land ; 
 His arm was strength : blood flowed at his com 
 mand. 
 Young Buffalo thus spoke : 
 
 " Great Chief, attend : 
 We seek in thee protector, father, friend. 
 A brave am I. This, my good sister, here, 
 And these fair strangers in thy realm appear 
 To claim thy kind and hospitable care : 
 Attend, great Chief, to our united prayer. 
 Brothers have proved unkind : We seek in you 
 A more than brother friend and father too." 
 Then the great Sachem thus : 
 
 11 My heart is warm ; 
 
 My arms are open. Fear no vengeful storm. 
 Thyself and friends are safe. Sacato s word 
 Hath said it. When was e er Sacato heard 
 To say what was not so ? Make this your home: 
 Be kindred with my people. If you roam, 
 Come back again. Who dares to do you harm 
 Shall feel the force and vengeance of my arm." 
 
 A wigwam for the strangers was prepared, 
 And hospitality no token spared, 
 Of kind and princely welcome. Ne er had heav n 
 Such cause of thankfulness to pilgrims given, 
 And ne er did pilgrim band their souls pour out 
 In prayer more humble, grateful, and devout. 
 That " perfect love," which casteth out all fear, 
 Filled their true souls with its celestial cheer, 
 Till one in purpose, one in faith, they lent 
 
26 THE FOREST PILGRIMS. 
 
 Each to the other comfort and content. 
 
 Two months passed fleetly by. Twas Christ 
 mas night. 
 
 The stars looked down with a fond, loving light, 
 And that same astral gem, whose guiding ray, 
 The wise men led to "where the young child lay," 
 Held high his course in heaven. The pilgrim 
 
 priest 
 
 Had in his tent prepared a marriage feast. 
 A loving daughter and a loving son 
 Were, with his blessing, to be joined as one, 
 To those they dearly loved those forest friends, 
 Whose faith had proved so true. Two brides 
 
 there were, 
 
 Each, in her way, superlatively fair ; 
 Like the wise virgins, each with oil supplied, 
 To greet the master s coming. Side by side 
 They stood with those they loved, and with one 
 
 breath 
 Vowed to be " faithful even unto death." 
 
 Ah I who can tell how soon o er scenes most 
 
 bright 
 
 Shadows may fall with gloom of darkest night 
 How soon the purest, faithfulest, and best 
 May press the sod and with the weary rest ! 
 God s ways, "past finding out," no man can 
 
 know : 
 
 The foeman s wrath and the assassin s blow 
 May yield him praise, and kindest mercy prove : 
 Great are his judgments greater still his love ! 
 
THE FOREST PILGRIMS. 27 
 
 The Christmas watch was kept ; the midnight 
 
 prayer 
 
 Went up to God, and his paternal care 
 Was asked for Christ s sake, on the joined lives 
 Of those fond husbands and those loving wives. 
 But hark a rush a yell the knife the brand 
 Wielded by many a fierce and dusky hand, 
 Brought sudden death where, late, fond life and 
 
 peace 
 
 Nursed brightest hopes, and looked for joy s in 
 crease. 
 
 That fearful scene of blood neath fury s sway, 
 Nor tongue, nor pen, nor pencil can portray. 
 Brief was the struggle. Wounded, scalped and 
 
 bound ; 
 
 Their eyes plucked out and cast upon the ground ; 
 Their bodies mutilated ; burning darts 
 Fixed deep within their flesh. Still in their 
 
 hearts 
 These Christians called on God, as did the 
 
 Son! 
 " Forgive them, Father : Thy great will be 
 
 done !" 
 At length to spear and flame their bodies 
 
 yield ; 
 
 The book of their sad martyrdom is sealed ; 
 And to eternal mansions in the skies, 
 From earthly hate, their pilgrim spirits rise. 
 Swift as the eagle s flight the direful blow 
 Fell on the Christian hamlet, to o erthrow 
 
28 THE FOREST PILGRIMS, 
 
 The fondest hopes e er nursed. But Vengeance 
 
 stood 
 
 The Nemesis of that wild, ancient wood 
 With shafts already barb d. In God s fixed hour 
 E en human wrath must vindicate His power. 
 Deep in the soil appeared a crimson stain, 
 And martyr-blood ne er cried to heaven in vain 1 
 The dusky triumph the surprise by night 
 May turn to mourning with the morrow s light, 
 When the red foeman the wild war-path seeks, 
 And a rude anger under honor speaks I 
 
 Whose was the deed ? The act itself pro 
 claimed 
 
 Its superstitious authors, and defamed 
 The very name of Brave. Fanatic ire 
 Alone such deeds of darkness could inspire ! 
 When first the pilgrims fled, pursuit had failed ; 
 Then the stern Seer against his warriors railed 
 Because with girdles scalpless they returned. 
 He mocked them ; called them women ; told how 
 
 burned 
 
 The old Chiefs ire, for children led astray 
 By pale-faced sorcery. Then: " I ll lead the way, 
 And woe to all who fail 1" A trusty band 
 With that fierce Seer to counsel and command, 
 Again took up the trail. A serpent s eyes, 
 When fixed in evil on some charmed prize, 
 Were, than the Seer s, less keen. The serpent s 
 
 guile 
 Could never equal his, and in his smile 
 
THE FOREST PILGRIMS. 29 
 
 There was a demon s power, a demon s pride, 
 That in self-confidence and hate relied. 
 With cunning and with patience he pursued 
 The cruel war-path through the peaceful wood, 
 Until, at length, his murderous success 
 Gave Christian martyrs to the wilderness. 
 When to the ears of proud Sacato came 
 The tidings of the massacre, a flame 
 Of anger burned within him, and a vow 
 He registered to the Great Spirit : " Now, 
 Be this, my right arm, withered ; be my heart 
 Torn from my bosom ; let my spirit start, 
 Dishonored to some hunting-ground of shame, 
 Where mocking fiends may scoff Sacato s name, 
 If swift extermination shall not fall 
 On the accursed tribe. I sentence all 
 To die the death of dogs." 
 
 Three thousand men 
 
 Sprang at Sacato s word from hill and glen, 
 And at the war-dance, by the bended bow, 
 And battle hatchet, swore that they would 
 
 show 
 
 No mercy to those wild wolves of the wood, 
 Who roused their hate by such a deed of blood. 
 The war commenced ; fierce as Sacato s wrath, 
 Destruction followed the avenger s path, 
 Till the gorged raven and the vulture turned 
 With loathing from the bloody feast, and spurned 
 The proffered carnage. Age nor sex was spared. 
 Infant and mother ; sire and maiden, shared, 
 
30 THE FOREST PILGRIMS. 
 
 With dusky braves, the death which bow and 
 
 spear, 
 
 And fiery torture gave to war s career. 
 But Chief the Seer Wild Serpent called who 
 
 planned 
 
 The murder of the pilgrims, and whose hand 
 Was reddest with their blood, felt the full flow 
 Of uncurbed vengeance. Tortures sure but slow, 
 With every pang that savage nerves can feel, 
 Fed on his flesh and gnawed his heart of steel. 
 Bound to a tree ; a thousand spears of pine, 
 Ranged in fantastic figures, line o er line, 
 Were thrust into his body. Flame applied, 
 They blazed in pitchy fatness, till they fried 
 The living victim, so he writhed again 
 With all the stings of concentrated pain. 
 Thus lingeringly he lived for many an hour, 
 Until, at length, e en torture lost its power, 
 And then he died last of a fallen race 
 With stern defiance branded on his face ! 
 
THE LAMENT. 31 
 
 THE LAMENT. 
 
 [The following lines were suggested by the story of a 
 somewhat aged wanderer whom the author met in a crowd 
 ed city of the old world. Sorrow more than disease had 
 left its traces on his cheek, and its palsy on his limbs, and 
 it is presumed that long ere this he has passed to the object 
 of his love in the spirit-land.] ^ 
 
 MY soul is lone, 
 
 As stepping o er the stumbling blocks of Time, 
 And seeking happiness in many a clime, 
 
 I tread unknown, 
 
 Mid granite solitudes and marble piles, 
 Where Poverty laments and Plenty smiles. 
 
 Oh ! there is pain 
 
 In that sad sense of loneliness, which steals 
 O er the too conscious spirit, and reveals 
 
 The severed chain 
 
 Of Friendship, which in other days was bright 
 As Hope s young buds were bursting into light ! 
 
 But distant far, 
 
 All sunny hours and early friends are now ; 
 For care has traced deep furrows on my brow ; 
 
 And many a scar, 
 
32 THE LAMENT. 
 
 The fadeless record of the foeman s strife, 
 Has made deformity my lot through life, 
 
 In early years, 
 When wealth embraced me, and when life s warm 
 
 gush 
 Went bounding onward with a joyous rush, 
 
 I nursed no fears 
 
 Foreshadowing a future, such as mine, 
 With care and grief recorded in each line, 
 
 I then did love, 
 
 And loving, was beloved ; but ah ! how soon 
 Death snatched my floweret in her spring s bright 
 noon ! 
 
 Now, far above, 
 
 Her spirit blooms in ether realms again, 
 While mine droops here in penury and pain. 
 
 Oh ! how I wept 
 
 When she, the bright the beautiful the first, 
 For whom my soul s deep treasur d love was nurst, 
 
 Faded and slept ! 
 
 And when the narrow house closed o er her form, 
 I felt a calm more dreadful than the storm.. 
 
 But soon I left 
 
 The dwelling of my fathers, and the home 
 Where, with my sweetest, I no more could roam : 
 
 Of all bereft, 
 
THE LAMENT. 33 
 
 Save the sad recollections of a scene 
 
 Which could to me no more be clothed in green. 
 
 i. sped away, 
 
 And where the tocsin and the drum were heard ; 
 And where fame s clarion the spirit stirred, 
 
 I sought to stay 
 
 The current of remembrance, and to blot 
 Her cherished image from my soul s sad thought. 
 
 But ah ! no drop 
 From Lethean springs would check my wasting 
 
 sigh, 
 Nor, till the fountains of my tears were dry 
 
 Would they e er stop 
 
 Their sad outpourings : and the midnight gale 
 Was oft wild witness of my mournful wail. 
 
 I courted death 
 
 Defied the fleshless monster and would clasp 
 The pike and halbert with a phrensied grasp, 
 
 But still my breath 
 
 Lingered within my nostrils : none would try 
 The fatal steel on one who fought to die I 
 
 I left the field, 
 
 Sad, broken down in body as in mind, 
 Seeking relief ; but still, I failed to find 
 
 Aught which could yield 
 
34 THE LAMENT, 
 
 The balm of quiet to my troubled soul, 
 
 Which, like the ocean, heaves with ceaseless roll. 
 
 Fve sought for peace 
 In distant lands and gay exotic climes ; 
 And revelry I ve witnessed, sports, and crimes, 
 
 But no release 
 
 Would my heart s jailor furnish. All as yet 
 Have failed to teach my spirit to forget. 
 
 On life s dark verge 
 
 I stand in sadness, as in manhood s might, 
 When Hope s bright star first sank in sorrow s 
 night. 
 
 The ceaseless surge 
 Which speaks Eternity but whispers peace, 
 
 For in it all our earthly sorrows cease. 
 
 
 
 Welcome the day 
 
 When my o erburdened spirit shall be free 
 From all the pains of earth-born misery ! 
 
 When, far away, 
 
 I ll meet my life-lamented love on high, 
 To bid me welcome to Love s purer sky ! 
 
THE SONG OF COMMERCE. 35 
 
 THE SONG OF COMMERCE. 
 
 I WAS born in the East, amid myrtle groves, 
 Where flowerets forever bloom ; 
 I was fanned by the breeze which in fragrance 
 
 roves 
 
 O er the gardens of Gul s perfume ; 
 And mine were the gold and the jewels, bright, 
 
 Which were reared by a kingly hand, 
 As.the joy and the pride of a people s might, 
 In the Temple of Judah s land. 
 
 And mine were the cedars which waved on high, 
 
 And mine were the ships of Tyre, 
 And mine were the breeze, which swept softly by, 
 
 And the gale, which was loud in ire. 
 The costly ores from a thousand mines 
 
 Were raised by my vassal train, 
 And the stately oaks and the mountain pines, 
 
 For me, sought the distant main. 
 
 With the " staff of life " in my jewel d hand, 
 
 I have traced the majestic Nile 
 I have stood where the Pyramid-mountains stand, 
 
 And where Babel was wont to smile ; 
 
36 THE SONG OF COMMERCE. 
 
 I have passed o er the lovely isles of Greece 
 
 I have dwelt in imperial Kome ; 
 Aiid Carthage was mine, in her hours of peace, 
 
 And in Venice I ve sought a home. 
 
 I ve lingered in Holland, and in my smile, 
 
 Her fleets have sought every sea ; 
 I ve circled around Albion s sea-girt isle, 
 
 Then hied to " the land of the free ;" 
 And my standard now waves on Columbia s shore, 
 
 Where the earth, from her teeming breast, 
 Hath gathered for me an unbounded store, 
 
 On the plains of the "giant West." 
 
 Lakes, rivers, and " wooden walls" are mine, 
 
 And those, who on Polar seas, 
 Seek treasures which I to the brave resign, 
 
 Where the glittering icebergs freeze. 
 The world is mine, and my smile shall dwell 
 
 With the peaceful of every land ; 
 The coffers I ll store, and the garners swell, 
 
 Which the fearless and free have planned. 
 
 Then, hurra ! hurra ! for my fleets of pride 
 
 For my cities, a loud hurra ! 
 I traverse the earth and the ocean wide, 
 
 And naught shall impede my way. 
 The beautiful East and the boundless West, 
 
 The chill and the burning clime, 
 Shall for aye rejoice in my high behest, 
 
 Through the cycles of future time. 
 
THE MOTHER S LYRIC. 31 
 
 THE MOTHER S LYRIC. 
 
 THREE there were, my boys, my trea 
 sures ! 
 
 Wai lie first, my eldest born, 
 Like a dream of angel pleasures, 
 
 Heralding eternal morn : 
 Gone to prove the soul s evangel, 
 Now a child, and now an angel ! 
 Change of being, gentle, blissful, 
 Twas when little Wallie died. 
 
 Georgie next, a laughing flower, 
 Early blooming for the sky ; 
 
 Seeming, by some mystic power, 
 Linked to fairer lands on high : 
 
 Proving still the soul s evangel, 
 
 Now a child, and now an angel ! 
 
 Change of being, gentle, blissful, 
 Twas when little Georgie died. 
 
 Then came Willie, latest, fleetest 
 Faded he from earth away ; 
 
 Fading thus, he seemed the sweetest 
 Flow r that ever knew decay : 
 
38 THE MOTHER S LYRIC. 
 
 Still lie proved the soul s evangel, 
 Now a child, and now an angel ! 
 Change of being, gentle, blissful, 
 Twas when little Willie died. 
 
 NEVT ORLEANS, 1856. 
 
TO MOOSEHEAD LAKE. 39 
 
 TO MOOSEHEAD LAKE.* 
 
 FAIR lake of the mountains, whose bright 
 waters seem 
 
 To flow on in bliss like a beautiful dream ; 
 Now laving in gladness the hundreds of isles 
 Which gem thy broad surface and joy in thy 
 
 smiles ; 
 
 To zephyr s soft music now dancing in pride, 
 As the hunter s light shallop the blue waves di 
 vide, 
 
 Or spreading in silver to mirror the skies, 
 And the forest-crowned mountains which round 
 thee arise. 
 
 Fair lake of the mountains, proud Kineo s brow 
 For ages has frowned far above thee as now : 
 When the neighboring highlands, now sylvan and 
 
 tame, 
 O erflowed at their summits with lava and flame, 
 
 * Written during a visit to Maine in 1854. 
 
 It fe said that the Indians used in "the olden time" to 
 sacrifice their victims by throwing them over the perpen 
 dicular cliffs of Mount Kineo. 
 
40 TO MOOSEHEAD LAKE. 
 
 And the Indian chieftains on Kineo met, 
 To pay to the war-god their terrible debt ; 
 Thy waters were witness ; and deep in thy caves 
 Are gathered the bones of the sacrificed " braves." 
 
 Fair lake of the mountains, romantic and wild 
 Are the scenes which in grandeur around thee 
 
 have smiled, 
 
 Since poured forth in brightness from Deity s hand, 
 Thou hast looked on the charms of this mountain 
 ous land. 
 
 In sunshine, in shadow, in calm and in storm, 
 Thou hast varying beauties no change can deform; 
 And thy sons and thy daughters, may they ever be 
 As fair as thy waters, as pure and as free ! 
 
INNOCENCE. 41 
 
 INNOCENCE. 
 
 TO . 
 
 HOUGH fair were the earliest bowers of 
 JL love, 
 
 With their beautiful blossoms of every hue, 
 Though pure was the incense of Eden s grove, 
 
 Which on zephyr-pinions in fragrance flew, 
 Yet fairer and purer, and sweeter still, 
 Than Eden s flow rs or fragrant air, 
 Was the guileless charm- find the vestal will, 
 Which Innocence gave unto all things there. 
 
 But the serpent came, and the charm was lost, 
 
 And briars and thorns in the garden grew, 
 And Innocence, frighted and tempest-tost, 
 
 For a place of rest o er the waters flew. 
 Like an angel-spirit too pure for earth, 
 
 It sometimes wandered from star to star, 
 But it still would sigh for its place of birth 
 
 For its native Eden, afar, afar ! 
 
 And then it would seek in some spicy grove, 
 A spot where the daisies had blushed unseen, 
 
 Where it could, mid the flowers in freedom rove, 
 And the children of Flora could hail it queen. 
 
42 INNOCENCE. 
 
 Still, still for a temple more purely bright, 
 As a wandering Peri again twould roam, 
 
 And it ne er found that temple of love and light, 
 Till it found iu thy breast an abiding home. 
 
THE LEGEND OF BELLE ISLE. 43 
 
 THE LEGEND OF RELLE ISLE. 
 
 AMONG- the many places in Newfoundland 
 remarkable for their romantic sublimity, 
 Belle Isle, in Conception Bay, is especially in 
 teresting. The rocks on the eastern end of the 
 island are most beautifully fluted out by the 
 hammerless masonry of the ever-working waves, 
 and towering up some hundreds of feet into the 
 air, they present no imperfect imitation of the 
 sublimest specimens of architectural grandeur. 
 Standing on two promontory projections of the 
 overhanging cliff, may be seen a male and a female 
 figure, perfect in shape, as if cut out of the solid 
 rock by the delicate hand of the sculptor. But 
 there the artist never stood the shelving rock 
 would mock at his attempt to scale it, and the 
 sublime proportions of the statues could never be 
 copied by his hand. Thus it is that the freaks of 
 Nature are more wonderful at times than the 
 proudest triumphs of Art. 
 
 A traditionary legend speaks of these figures 
 as being the tutelar angels of the Isle, and once its 
 sole inhabitants. The place was then a very 
 paradise of delight, and so enraptured were they 
 
44 THE LEGEND OF BELLE ISLE. 
 
 with its beauties that they fixed a bell on the end 
 of it which fronts the setting sun, which would 
 ring a peal, melodiously enchanting at morn, at 
 mid-day, and at the approach of night; but 
 whenever wandering spirits agitated the air or the 
 surrounding waters by their motions, it gave a 
 tone so wild, discordant, and frightful as to urge 
 the intruders hastily from the loved domain. This 
 bell, with its clapper, may still be seen near the 
 site it originally occupied ; but an invisible guar 
 dian protects them from the polluted tread and 
 scrutinizing examination of man. 
 
 In course of time, tradition proceeds to say, 
 its inhabitants made wings to take their loved 
 island to the land of the gods. The gods, infu 
 riate at their presumption, about the midnight 
 that ushered in May-morning of the year, sent a 
 sword of fiery flame which clipped the monster 
 wings just trembling on the eve of motion, and 
 drove the aspiring angels over the island s eastern 
 brow. The rocks on that portion of the island 
 being enchanted, were no sooner touched by the 
 falling victims of ambition than the once happy 
 pair were converted into marble, as solid as the 
 rock against which they clung. And there they 
 have ever since been ; and on every annual return 
 of the hour that they fell, the echoes of the Isle 
 are awakened by a strain of music from each, 
 the only vestiges they retain of their once heav 
 enly powers. 
 
THE LEGEND OF BELLE ISLE. 45 
 
 The male sings thus : 
 
 I HAVE roamed, I have roamed, as the lord of the 
 
 Isle, 
 
 And alone I have lived in my loved one s smile ; 
 I have braved, I have braved the celestial ire, 
 And the sword that was edged with electric fire ; 
 And my yearly song, from the marble steep 
 I sing, when the ocean is lulled to sleep. 
 Still, still its burden my loved one s smile, 
 And the verdant plains of my beautiful Isle, 
 
 On my wave-washed cliff I have stood, I have 
 
 stood, 
 
 Since the deluge rolled its resistless flood : 
 A thousand nations have passed away 
 Since the echoes awoke to my yearly lay : 
 The gods of the ocean in worship meet 
 In the billowy waters beneath my feet, 
 But they re naught when compared with my lov d 
 
 one s smile 
 And the Eden plains of my beautiful Isle. 
 
 The female sings thus : 
 
 Awake, O awake ! to my midnight song : 
 The maiden who lists will live happy and long. 
 And the youth who attends to my yearly lay, 
 With the roses of pleasure I ll scatter his way. 
 
46 THE LEGEND OF BELLE ISLE. 
 
 I have lived in my Isle when unending spring 
 Would its scented flow rets around me fling ; 
 And I ve revelled in bliss, while my loved one s 
 
 smile 
 Still hailed me queen of my beautiful Isle. 
 
 The sportive mermaids around me play ! 
 And the ocean-nymphs with enchanting lay 
 Stil cheer me onward from year to year, 
 With the echoing song which to me is dear ; 
 And dear are the strains of celestial bands, 
 And the myriad songs of Elysian lands, 
 But dearer by far is my loved one s smile, 
 And the Eden plains of my beautiful Isle. 
 
THE WIND-GOD S SONG. 4t 
 
 THE WIND-GOD S SONG. 
 
 IN my car of clouds, through the "upper deep," 
 I sweep o er the trembling sea ; 
 And the billowy surges, aroused from sleep, 
 Keep time to my minstrelsy. 
 
 A thousand ships from a thousand climes 
 
 Await my uncertain breath, 
 Where, freighted with treasures, and hopes, and 
 crimes, 
 
 They would steer by the shoals of death : 
 
 But my ire, aroused by the vassal train, 
 
 I give, to the tempest, birth, 
 And I laugh, in my might, at the sons of pain 
 
 As they sigh for the solid earth. 
 
 The cry of sorrow aloud is heard ! 
 
 The shriek, and the dying wail 
 The ships have sunk ! the waves are stirr d 
 
 In the dance, to the midnight gale. 
 
48 THE WIXD-GOD S SOXG. 
 
 Now I breathe a calm o er the " yeast of waves," 
 
 And the watery warrings cease ; 
 And deep, in the mermaid s ocean caves, 
 
 The mariner sleeps in peace. 
 
 And afar, afar, o er the desert land 
 
 I pass in my fleecy car ; 
 And the pestilence bows to my high command, 
 
 And the Siroc is sent afar. 
 
 And now I come with the sweets of spring, 
 And the leaf and the flow ret s bloom 
 
 Break forth, in the warmth of my zephyr-wing 
 From the chill of their wintry tomb. 
 
 And now, again, through the summer air, 
 
 I breathe on the fevered brow ; 
 And a joyous welcome awaits me where 
 
 The faint and the feeble bow. 
 
 And now, to the bowers of love I hie, 
 
 And I bend unto lips of bliss, 
 (From my viewless home in the changeful sky), 
 
 "Which an angel might stoop to kiss. 
 
 And I pass o er the fields of ripening corn, 
 
 The children of toil to cheer ; 
 And in joy, at the fullness of Plenty s horn, 
 
 I speed in my wild career. 
 
A MOTHER S QUESTIONINGS. 49 
 
 A MOTHER S QUESTIONINGS. 
 
 ~YTT~HERE art thou gone, my Henry ? 
 
 V V 0, I could not think that thou 
 Wouldst leave us, as Ihe sunlight leaves, 
 
 At eve, the mountain s brow. 
 Thy presence was a constant joy 
 
 A ray of life and light 
 And now thou rt gone, the world seems filled 
 
 With Absence and with Night ! 
 
 Go ask the wailing waters, 
 
 Gentle mother, they can tell ; 
 There s speech within their darkened flow, 
 
 To thee, perchance a knell ! 
 Amid their coral colonnades 
 
 His form was gently laid, 
 And well he sleeps, as if his couch 
 
 By loving hands were made. 
 
 I ve spoken to the waters, 
 
 But they rolled along in pride, 
 All heedless of my questionings, 
 
 And not a wave replied 
 
50 A MOTHER S QUESTIONINGS. 
 
 Save in sad, hollow murmur-tones 
 Which seemed like echoes dread, 
 
 Of lov d ones lost, forever lost, 
 Till seas gave up their dead. 
 
 Then question thou the heavens, 
 
 And the radiant orbs, which sweep 
 In music and in brilliancy 
 
 Through the celestial deep. 
 The sea but holds the casket, frail 
 
 The sky has claimed the gem, 
 And now it sparkles in the light 
 
 Of God s own diadem. 
 
 come to me, my Henry, 
 
 Come in thy angelic guise, 
 And to my earthly questionings 
 
 Give heavenly replies. 
 It is his voice I know it well 
 
 It comes to bless and cheer 
 My Henry lives the better life : 
 
 Farewell to grief and fear ! 
 
 NEW ORLEANS, October, 1856. 
 
 The above lines were written by request, on the death of 
 a pupil in the New Orleans Public .Schools, who was acci 
 dentally knocked overboard from a vessel, and drowned in 
 the Gulf of Mexico. 
 
TO THE MAGNOLIA. 51 
 
 TO THE MAGNOLIA. 
 
 GEM of the forest, delicately bright, 
 Spotless and pure as Eden s fairest flower ; 
 That comest with thy treasures to delight 
 The fairy halls of Love s encircling bower. 
 
 o 
 
 In the gay world, methinks, I ve heard it said, 
 That there were mysteries of Floral lore, 
 
 Recorded on fair flow ret-leaves which, read. 
 By ardent lovers, caused them to adore. 
 
 And oft have I, with wrapt attention, sought 
 For the full knowledge of each gentle page 
 
 Which warms the soul with joyousness when 
 
 taught, 
 And gives a higher wisdom to the sage. 
 
 And thou, sweet forest flow r, hast always seemed 
 The best translatress of Affection s sigh ; 
 
 For warmth, and truth, and purity have beamed 
 From the warm sun which lights thy native sky. 
 
52 TO THE MAGNOLIA. 
 
 Canst thou " translate the poetry of hearts ?" 
 I whisper, then, the story of my flame 
 
 The dream of bliss its silent thought imparts 
 Its soft devotion to one cherished name. 
 
 And I will bless thee for the kindly deed, 
 And own thy balmy breath and gentle swell 
 
 All musical and eloquent, to plead 
 
 The deep emotions words can never tell. 
 
HOPE A FRAGMENT. 53 
 
 HOPE A FRAGMENT. 
 
 9~TV /TID the glittering gems, so profusely strewed, 
 _1\JL O er the boundless wilds of Infinitude, 
 One star, of a lovelier, purer sheen 
 Than its sister lights could boast, was seen : 
 But a cloud appeared ; and I looked with pain 
 On the shrouding gloom of its sable train, 
 As that chosen star with the silv ry ray 
 In its deep embrace seemed to fade away. 
 All sadly I looked ; and a darkening shade 
 O er my world of thought like a demon strayed, 
 For the choir which shouted Creation s hymn 
 In that partial blackness had all grown dim. 
 But now, through the silence of gloom was heard 
 The reviving tone of a whispered word 
 Tvvas Hope and then, dropping a grateful tear, 
 
 I knew that my star would again appear. 
 # * * * * 
 
 Mid the flowers that smiled in a garden dell, 
 And honeyed the dews as they softly fell, 
 And anointed the breeze, ever wont to stray 
 "With its cooling charm at the close of day, 
 I sat ; and a rapture, unknown before, 
 Seemed roused in the midst of that Floral store, 
 
54 HOPE A FRAGMENT. 
 
 As a flower, of flowers the fairest queen, 
 
 In that beautiful sisterhood first was seen. 
 
 With its fragrance so sweet, and its tints so rare, 
 
 Ko rival blossom could e er compare ; 
 
 And I gazed with a new and strange delight, 
 
 As the sun swept on to his couch of night. 
 
 Long ere I had ended my fond survey, 
 
 " The glorious king" of declining day 
 
 Had missioned his heralds to softly close 
 
 The blossoms which joyed in a fond repose ; 
 
 And I sighed, as lovers alone can do, 
 
 When my beautiful flower was lost to view. 
 
 But Hope, forever a constant friend, 
 With words of promise drew near to lend 
 That soothing light which can bless and cheer 
 That guide to thought in its dark career ; 
 And then, I kuew that my longing sight 
 Should again be blessed with a morrow s light 
 That my flower again, as a queenly bride, 
 Should appear in the blush of its maiden pride. 
 Then bright, through the shadows which would 
 
 destroy, 
 Beamed the sunlight promise of future joy. 
 
LAST ISLAND. 55 
 
 LAST ISLAND. 
 
 [On the 10th of August, 1856, a hurricane swept over a 
 portion of the Gulf of Mexico, and entirely submerged Last 
 Island, one of the group of sand islands stretching along the 
 southern coast of Louisiana. The island was a favorite 
 summer resort for planters and their families, and, when 
 visited by the storm, had a temporary population of about 
 four hundred souls, chiefly from adjacent parishes. Of this 
 number more than half were drowned, and every building 
 on the island was swept away by the fury of the storm.] 
 
 A STRANGE Wild Spot 
 
 "Was that " Last Island" in the Mexic sea, 
 Where winds and waves and wild birds wandered 
 free; 
 
 And there was naught 
 
 But promised joy for those who gathered there 
 To seek in summer ease divorce from care. 
 
 The fair and young, 
 
 The wise, the eloquent, the true, the brave, 
 Found health and music in each rolling wave ; 
 
 And wild harps, strung 
 To softer minstrelsy, essayed to please 
 By peans gentle as the gentlest breeze. 
 
56 LAST ISLAND. 
 
 Oh, what delight 
 
 It was, at eve, to wander round the isle 
 When all was golden with Sol s parting smile ! 
 
 And when young Night 
 Her zone enriched with Yeuus and with Mars 
 Arrayed her bosom with her wealth of stars ! 
 
 Lovers there were 
 Who thus would wander, and who thus were 
 
 blest ; 
 While e en the foam-bells on each wavelet s crest, 
 
 As if to share 
 
 In love s Elysium, kissed the sounding shore, 
 And with prismatic glories strewed it o er. 
 
 Morn to the isle 
 
 Came with a rosy flush. The balmy air 
 Breathed of delights which it were bliss to share, 
 
 And Nature s smile 
 
 Never more true, and ne er more kindly seemed 
 Since first in light it on creation beamed. 
 
 But soon a change 
 Spread darkling o er the heav ns. The sea-gulls 
 
 cry 
 Gave note, prophetic, of some danger nigh, 
 
 As with wild rage 
 
 They swept the air, and sought, perchance, to flee 
 The coming fury of the wind and sea. 
 
LAST ISLAND. 57 
 
 A heaving surge, 
 
 With all a storm s deep prelude in its roar, 
 Began to beat along the island s shore ; 
 
 And still did urge 
 
 Each wave its fellow with resistless force, 
 And hurried onward in its headlong course. 
 
 And now the gale 
 
 Burst in its might that lonely isle upon. 
 The hurricane, the hurricane swept on, 
 
 And a wild wail, 
 That seemed the knell of hope, and shriek and 
 
 sigh 
 And wilder prayers assailed the stormy sky. 
 
 Gods ! what a sight ! 
 When the mad waves overwhelmed the troubled 
 
 Strand, 
 And mingled in their yeast that isle of sand ; 
 
 And in their might 
 
 Bore piecemeal off, as trophies of their foam, 
 The strong-bound mansion and the humbler home. 
 
 Amid the strife 
 
 Of raging waters and of raging wind 
 What sure protector shall weak woman find ? 
 
 And childhood s life, 
 Tis as a bubble, where ascends " the cry 
 Of the strong swimmer in his agony !" 
 
58 LAST ISLAXD. 
 
 0, cruel wave ! 
 
 Why didst thou bear from a fond lover s arms 
 His fair affianced one, and of her charms 
 
 So fiercely rave ? 
 
 And when thou hadst her living form caressed, 
 Why didst thou hide her corse within thy breast ? 
 
 But on, Death ! 
 
 Thou hast thy harvest now ; bestrew thy path 
 With the dark records of thy wasting wrath, 
 
 For fleeting breath, 
 
 Though linked to immortality, must yield 
 To such an enemy on such a field ! 
 
 Yet triumph not, 
 
 For when what seemeth human life is gone, 
 The mortal immortality puts on 
 
 A blissful lot ! 
 
 And meets a welcome from an angel band, 
 In songs that breathe of the celestial land. 
 
 Xo storms are there, 
 In that far country of supreme delight, 
 To which the soaring spirit takes its flight, 
 
 But all is fail- 
 As seraph dreams of some supernal isle, 
 Bathed in the light of God s eternal smile. 
 
 A steamer s wreck, 
 
 Imbedded in the island s shifting sand, 
 Forms a last refuge for a broken band ; 
 
LAST ISLAND. 59 
 
 And on her deck 
 
 Together cling, washed by the whelming spray, 
 The few who mourn the many swept away. 
 
 What tears were shed 
 What perilous attempts were made to save 
 The fair and helpless from the hostile wave 
 
 What lovers, wed 
 
 By the stern storm s espousal, heard their knell 
 In the loud thunder s crash twere vain to tell ! 
 
 Night came anon ; 
 
 O, clingers to the wreck, a fearful night ! 
 The lightning s fitful flash your only light ! 
 
 Wives, children gone ! 
 
 Your hearts and hearths left desolate ! yet o er 
 The hurricane still sweeps and asks for more ! 
 
 So passed away 
 
 A night of anguish on the stranded wreck. 
 Morn came, the fury of the storm to check ; 
 
 And as the day 
 
 Advanced, the waters fell, and the lone isle, 
 E en in its ruin, seemed to wear a smile ! 
 
 Along the strand, 
 
 Care-worn and sad, with slow and mournful tread, 
 The living wander, searching for the dead ! 
 
 For those who planned 
 
 With them, but yestermorn, fair-fashioned schemes 
 Of life and bliss, now fled, like morning dreams ! 
 
GO LAST ISLAND. 
 
 And here and there, 
 
 Stretched on the sand or roiling with the wave, 
 Some dear, familiar form demands a grave : 
 
 The young, the fair, 
 
 The servant and his master, side by side 
 For death, the robber, robbed them e en of pride ! 
 
 Sad was the task 
 
 To give them fitting sepulture to hide 
 Its fairest trophies from the moaning tide, 
 
 Which seemed to ask, 
 
 With hollow, dirge-like cadence, what had led 
 These tearful mourners thus to claim its dead ! 
 
 But far away, 
 
 Down in the depths, or to some distant shore, 
 Or on some life-supporting fragment, o er 
 
 The water s play, 
 
 The lost were chiefly borne. How few again 
 Shall ever mingle in the walks of men ! 
 
 Another night 
 
 A night of storm, and still another day, 
 A day of anxious longing wore away, 
 
 Before the sight 
 
 Of a strong steam-urged bark announced relief, 
 And joy again gleamed o er the brow of grief. 
 
 Hail to the saved ! 
 
 What welcome now awaits them ! rapture wild 
 Is that fond mother s, when she clasps her child 
 
LAST ISLAND. 61 
 
 Who fearless braved 
 
 The war of waters form enclasped to form 
 And hurried questionings the storm ? the storm ? 
 
 Strange answer came : 
 Absence and Silence told a tale of dread 
 Spoke of the loved the lost the early dead, 
 
 For words were tame 
 To tell how desolation breathed upon 
 The isle, and its inhabitants were gone ! 
 
 NEW ORLEANS, August, 1856. 
 
THE SHADOW ON THE PILLOW. 
 
 THE SHADOW ON THE PILLOW. 
 
 [A highland soldier, who had been severely wounded in 
 battle, and whose life was saved by the careful nursing and 
 gentle ministrations of Florence Nightingale the heroine 
 of the Crimea said, on being asked how he felt towards his 
 preserver, that his gratitude was too great for words, and 
 the only mode he had of giving vent to his feelings, was by 
 kissing her shadow when it fell on his pillow as she passed 
 through the ward on her nightly visit. Foreign Paper.] 
 
 AMOXG the wounded, on his couch, 
 The Highland soldier lay, 
 And from his wounds the tide of life 
 
 Was ebbing fast away, 
 When o er him bent a gentle form, 
 
 To hear his dying tale 
 >Twas that angel of the Hospital, 
 Fair Florence Nightingale. 
 
 " Ah, me !" he cried that soldier stern- 
 
 " My wife and children dear, 
 So far, so very far away, 
 
 While I am dying here. 
 Great God ! and must I perish thus ; 
 
 And shelterless and lone, 
 Leave those whose love is more than life- 
 
 My beautiful my own ?" 
 
THE SHADOW ON THE PILLOW. 63 
 
 " Cease, soldier !" said a gentle voice, 
 
 " For He, who rules on high, 
 Can hear as well the widow s wall 
 
 As the young raven s cry. 
 Trust in His strength, as thou art weak, 
 
 And let thy prayers ascend 
 To Him, the widow s surest stay 
 
 The orphan s kindest friend. 
 
 " And haply, soldier, we may yet, 
 
 With God s good aid, restore 
 Thee to thy wife and little ones 
 
 As hale as heretofore ; 
 And 0, what swelling, thankful hearts 
 
 What joy there will be then, 
 To brighten up the soldier s home 
 
 Within his Highland glen !" 
 
 Like dew upon the bruised reed 
 
 Like light to dungeons dark 
 Or like the dove, with olive boughs, 
 
 Returning to the ark, 
 Came those kind, gentle, hopeful words 
 
 Unto the soldier s ear, 
 With prophet-dreams of health restored, 
 
 And home s reviving cheer. 
 
 With skillful hands the angel nurse 
 
 Poured oil and wine upon 
 The soldier s agonizing wounds, 
 
 Until their pang was gone ; 
 
64 THE SHADOW OX THE PILLOW. 
 
 And still she nursed him tenderly 
 Through months, which glided by, 
 
 Before health bloomed upon his cheek 
 Or brightened in his eye. 
 
 Ah, gentle one, tis thine to bless ! 
 
 Thy mission is divine ; 
 And rays from Heaven s mercy seat 
 
 Upon thy pathway shine. 
 There s healing in thy woman s hand, 
 
 And, in thy woman s heart, 
 A fount of gentleness, whose flow 
 
 No impulse gains from art. 
 
 And, soldier, say what thoughts arise 
 
 When she, thy nurse, appears ? 
 The soldier turned upon his couch, 
 
 And, checked by manly tears, 
 He answered, " words are weak to tell 
 
 Her shadow seems like light, 
 And I kiss it as she walks the ward 
 
 To cheer the sick by night !" 
 
 ORLEANS, November, 1856. 
 
THE EAGLE AND THE DOVE. 65 
 
 THE EAGLE AND THE DOYE. 
 
 [The following legend was related to the author at one 
 of the " Posts " of the Hudson Bay Company. The " Eagle " 
 and the "Dove " belonged to a tribe of mountain Indians, in 
 Lower Canada, among whom a superstition, relative to the 
 deification of celebrated warriors, was prevalent. The 
 religious opinions of the mountain Indians differ in many 
 respects, as well as in this particular, from those commonly 
 received by the American tribes.] 
 
 "IP) ENEATH, swept on the mighty stream, 
 
 I J Above, the maiden stood, 
 
 And calmly fell the moon s pale beam 
 
 Upon that ancient wood. 
 And graceful seemed that forest maid, 
 
 As in the checkered light, 
 To the stern battle-god she prayed 
 
 For succor in the fight. 
 
 Her lover was an Eagle Brave, 
 
 By danger compassed round, 
 Though for each wound his arrows gave, 
 
 A foe would bite the ground ; 
 But she, with woman s sympathy, 
 
 And woman s fearless love, 
 Would read the words of mystery 
 
 The stars had traced above. 
 
66 THE EAGLE AND THE DOVE. 
 
 An earthen mound was by her side, 
 
 Within, the dust was laid 
 Of him the dead the deified, 
 
 To whom that maiden prayed ; 
 And long she prayed before the god 
 
 In giant-guise appeared, 
 And noiseless o er the velvet sod, 
 
 With his high hand upreared. 
 
 He moved, and pointing to the sky, 
 
 With accents cold and stern, 
 He said, " your chief in victory 
 
 To you can ne er return. 
 The star which gleamed along his path, 
 
 With its protecting light, 
 Is darkened by a cloud of wrath 
 
 Which shadows o er the fight : 
 
 " Your loosened spirit can alone 
 
 Ascend, and roll away 
 The cloud which o er that star is thrown, 
 
 To intercept its ray. 
 But if the shadow still remains 
 
 Around your Eagle-Brave, 
 His arm no more its strength retains 
 
 His bow no more can save." 
 
 " Then his shall be the victory, 
 
 As his has been the right, 
 If death and darkness shrouding me 
 
 Can send him life and light n 
 
THE EAGLE AND THE DOVE. 6t 
 
 She said and with a fawn-like bound, 
 She plunged beneath the stream ; 
 
 And coldly where the maid was drowned 
 Still slept the moon-lit beam. 
 
 But soon a cloud was rolled away 
 
 From the o erarching sky, 
 And glittering with peerless ray, 
 
 A star appeared on high : 
 Again an arm, as erst, was strong 
 
 Again a bow was bent 
 But little knew the victor-throng 
 
 By whom success was lent. 
 
 And now the storm of war is stilled, 
 
 And as its thunders cease, 
 For victor warriors are filled 
 
 The cups of love and peace : 
 And many a maiden s song of praise 
 
 Mid forest-vines, is heard, 
 As joyous as when upward strays 
 
 The music of a bird. 
 
 But she, the bird of sweetest tone 
 
 The Eagle-lover s pride 
 Is silent, and the Dove alone 
 
 Is distant from his side. 
 And long the victor-chieftain mourned 
 
 The silence of that voice 
 Which never to his ear returned, 
 
 To gladden and rejoice. 
 
68 THE EAGLE AND THE DOVE. 
 
 And ne er again his battle-spear, 
 
 Or shaft-impelling bow, 
 Did onward urge a stern career, 
 
 To triumph o er a foe. 
 And when, at length, the chieftain died, 
 
 Full oft, at close of day, 
 Two spirit-shadows, side by side, 
 
 Were seen in love to stray. 
 
LINES TO . 69 
 
 LINES TO . 
 
 AS when the softly wooing breeze, 
 In fondness, sweeps the sylvan lyre, 
 And, mid the fragrant orange trees, 
 A sound as from an angel choir, 
 In music, tells its lov d career, 
 
 While all the odor-sweets of spring, 
 A sisterhood, forever dear, 
 
 Attend, on zephyr s viewless wing : 
 
 So, to my ear thy harp s rich sound 
 
 Comes, breathing melody s perfume ; 
 For ne er was sweeter music found 
 
 To stray o er Eden s virgin bloom : 
 And my poor harp, all lone, and sad, 
 
 Would fondly echo back the strain, 
 If it thy purer ear could glad, 
 
 And bid thee wake those tones again. 
 
 But fate forbids. The blissful dream 
 
 Inspired by thy minstrelsy 
 Must pass for never, never deem 
 
 That I could bring down cares on thee I 
 
70 LINES TO . 
 
 O! would st thou "cling?" fond creature !- 
 th on 
 
 Art far too innocent and fair, 
 Before the storms of life to bow, 
 
 And with me all their perils dare. 
 
 Would I could wed thee ! but the thought 
 
 Is madness ! I will not repine 
 Though all the treasures of my lot 
 
 My heart and hurp shall aye be thine : 
 To see thee fade, I could not bear, 
 
 So thou shalt be my " spirit-bride P 
 Nor time, nor misery, nor care 
 
 Shall ever force thee from my side. 
 
LINES ON GEORGE COOKE, ESQ. 71 
 
 LINES ON GEORGE COOKE, ESQ. 
 
 [The following lines, humbly inscribed to the nearest and 
 dearest friend of the deceased, were written in memory of 
 George Cooke, Esq., distinguished alike for his talents as an 
 artist, and his virtues as a man. Mr. Cooke departed this 
 life on 26th March, 1849, at his residence in the city of 
 New Orleans.] 
 
 THE sun of genius smiled upon his way, 
 And warmed his soul with its creative beams, 
 While painted fancies round him seemed to play, 
 To bless and beautify his waking dreams. 
 
 Then glowed the canvas with the warmth of life, 
 Then Beauty owned the magic of his will, 
 
 As the fond mother and the loving wife 
 Immortal seemed the triumph of his skill. 
 
 The wasting ruin and the floating wreck 
 
 The suffering form the madness of despair 
 The bower which Floral offerings bedeck 
 The lover-hero, doomed to " do and dare" 
 
72 LINES ON GEORGE COOKE, ESQ. 
 
 All these have, neath his pencil s magic touch, 
 Through the dim vista of far-distant years, 
 
 Cast a reflected light, which, Fame shall much 
 Delight to cherish, as the future nears. 
 
 And while Fame waits on Genius; Friendship, 
 Love, 
 
 Awake in Memory the tear of joy, 
 As soaring Faith attends his course above, 
 
 To where his higher " talents" claim employ. 
 
RELIGION, POETRY AND MUSIC. 73 
 
 RELIGION, POETRY AND MUSIC. 
 
 [Written for a Lady s Album, in which Religion, Poetry 
 and Music were beautifully represented by an appropriate 
 trio of figures.] 
 
 RELIGION. 
 
 "YTTHEN sorrow s mantle shadows o er the 
 VV soul, 
 
 Religion spreads around her holy calm 
 Which dissipates the tempest clouds, that roll 
 
 O er troubled waters as the spirit s balm : 
 And when the vanities of life shall end, 
 
 And earth s endearments have forever fled, 
 Religion then, Hope s Heaven arch d bow shall 
 bend 
 
 Above the silent " Cities of the Dead." 
 
 POETRY. 
 
 The poet s fancy is a breathing stream 
 
 Which gathers incense from each flow ry way 
 
 As full of freshness as love s virgin dream, 
 And wild and sportive as an untamed fay; 
 
74 RELIGION, POETRY AXD MUSIC. 
 
 It binds in flowing wreaths the burning thought 
 It plays with Jhe wing d lightning thro the sky 
 
 It laughs at Desolation s tramp ; and naught 
 Can tame its wildness, or its sources dry. 
 
 MUSIC. 
 
 The voice of music, like an angel s breath, 
 
 Xow, full of gentle sweetness, soars above 
 The fields of Fancy, from which bards enwreathe 
 
 The kindred flowers of Purity and Love ! 
 And now, it takes a spirit-stirring tone 
 
 Which nerves the senses fraught with martial 
 
 strife, 
 And rolls wild ardor through the " living zone" 
 
 Which circles round the sterner paths of life. 
 
ADDRESS. 75 
 
 ADDRESS.* 
 
 [Written for the occasion of the Firemen s Annual Benefit 
 in the Variet6s Theatre, and respectfully dedicated to the 
 Firemen of the Consolidated City of New Orleans.] 
 
 GOD bless the Firemen ! You my constant 
 friends, 
 
 From whose warm hearts the generous prayer as 
 cends, 
 
 Can give the orison an incense wing J 
 As soft and fragrant as the breeze of spring. 
 God bless the Firemen ! let the echoes rise, 
 In truthful breathings through the ambient skies. 
 
 When in the " noon of night " the loud alarm 
 Startles the sleeper, and the voice of harm, 
 Spoken by iron tongues, gives note that, led 
 By fiends of flame, empanoplied with dread, 
 The spirit of destruction is abroad, 
 Fierce with the fury of a demon-god ! 
 
 * This Address was recited by that gifted actress, Mrs. 
 C. Howard, so long a favorite at the Varietcs, in 185-. 
 
76 ADDRESS. 
 
 Whose then the task to meet the raging foe ? 
 And whose, to lay the fell destroyer low ? 
 Needless it were to answer. All can tell, 
 For all the Fireman s daring know full well. 
 
 Still, onward still, Destruction s lurid tide 
 Rolls with the gale, its vassel and its guide. 
 Raging and surging on, from roof to roof, 
 As if it claimed for its own mad behoof, 
 Art s choicest triumphs ; while the builder s skill 
 Is naught compared with its wild, wayward will. 
 
 Now the proud column and the strong bound 
 
 arch 
 
 Crumble and fall beneath the onward march 
 Of the fierce waves of flame, which, rising, seem 
 To realize some hell-engendered dream. 
 
 But tired, at length, of inorganic prize, 
 For nobler sacrifice the fire-fiend cries 
 Tis life he asks nor longer will he tread 
 On things alone, inanimate and dead. 
 Ho ! let the triumphs of the loom be brought, 
 And golden gifts, and treasure tomes of thought ! 
 He mocks them all, and marks them with his hate, 
 And still he asks for Life ! for Life ! too late, 
 Perchance, will be the Fireman s saving arm 
 To free from danger and to shield from harm. 
 
ADDRESS. 77 
 
 Here in an attic s flame-encircled height, 
 A little child, a thing of life and light, 
 Slumbers, unconscious of the danger near 
 Its angel mother never taught it fear. 
 Twine as ye list, wild wreathes of glaring flame, 
 Ye cannot check the Fireman s noble aim 
 He rears the ladder scales the tottering wall 
 To save that infant s life, he perils all ! 
 And oh ! success his saving arm attends 
 Heaven will befriend him, who that child be 
 friends ! 
 
 Then is it strange that beauty s gentle breast 
 Swells with wild heavings, as, when dream- 
 caressed, 
 
 "Whene er the Fireman s noble deeds are told 
 And love is his reward more prized than gold ? 
 In Beauty s breast tis e er the Fireman s aim 
 To kindle, not annihilate a flame ; 
 For in that breast, and in that Beauty s worth, 
 Are meet rewards for more than deeds of earth. 
 So may it ever be let woman s eye 
 Light on the brave to nobly do, or die ! 
 
78 LINES. 
 
 LINES. 
 
 [Written on the bursting of the boilers of a large steam 
 mill in Nova Scotia.] 
 
 sun beamed high in Heaven. With 
 I tireless arm 
 The steam-urged engine played its constant 
 
 round, 
 And moved with iron-life, as if a charm 
 
 Of wizard spell was in its motion bound, 
 And lava-like its lymph-blood boiled, and found 
 
 Its madd ning way through each conflicting vein ; 
 And foaming, murmured with unearthly sound 
 Against all those who would attempt to rein 
 Its madden d pulse, or giant force, for fame or gain. 
 
 But soon, determined not to brook control 
 Nor be the slave of man s ambitious might, 
 
 It burst its iron vestment, as a soul 
 
 Bursts its dark prison for the realms of light. 
 
 A thousand scattered fragments in their flight, 
 
LINES. 79 
 
 And the loud thunder of the startled air, 
 Aroused the fears of each attendant wight, 
 
 And many sought their fellows in despair, 
 And feared for each that death which all might 
 dread to share. 
 
 For mountain heaps of masonry and brick 
 
 Were strewn around them as a vengeful rain 
 Of heav n directed fury : fast and thick 
 
 Fell the huge fragments ; and the shriek of 
 
 pain 
 
 Was heard ; and wond ring that they were not 
 slain, 
 
 The living found the wounded and the dead ; 
 The mangled body and the scattered brain 
 
 Arrest their steps ; and if they further tread, 
 The scalded man appears mid devastation s spread. 
 
80 THE MAY FLOWER OF THE NORTH. 
 
 THE MAY FLOWER OF THE NORTH * 
 
 [In imitation of the Persian.] 
 
 I. 
 
 T3EATJTIFUL flower, why dost thou nestle 
 TJ lowly amid the snows ? The chill breeze 
 of the North is upon thee, and though the green 
 leaves of thy native vine gather protectingly round, 
 they cannot gladden and warm thee as could the 
 softer smiles of a sunny clime. Beautiful flower, 
 all lonely and hidden thou lyest now ; but if thy 
 petals were expanded where a kinder sun warms 
 a land of unfading spring, then mightest thou 
 stand erect among the beautiful children of Flora, 
 and claim thy worship of the fragrant sisterhood. 
 
 II. 
 
 Close and more closely nestled the beautiful 
 flower beneath the emerald leaves which preserved 
 their freshness through all the storms of winter, 
 and grateful for the shelter they afforded, it gave 
 
 * The May flower is the political emblem of the Author s 
 native land, Nova Scotia. 
 
THE MAY FLOWER OF THE NORTH. 81 
 
 its incense to the tiny bowers which decorated 
 the hillock upon which it grew. A faint voice 
 from the snow-margined hillock was heard, and it 
 seemed to say : " I sigh not for the land of un 
 fading spring, nor the worship of a gaudy and 
 haughty sisterhood. In a warmer clime the hot 
 sun would scorch me with its withering beams, 
 and more proud and queenly flow rets would look 
 on me with contempt. Here I am first, and 
 fondest, and dearest, being first there, amid 
 continuous bloom I could not be first, and lowly 
 and unknown, I would be trampled on and des 
 pised." Then fainter and fainter became the voice 
 till its sounds were no longer heard. 
 
 III. 
 
 Beautiful flower, there is wisdom in thy voice 
 and instruction in thy leaves, and the child of 
 man who listens to thy teachings will learn to be 
 humble and content. Though the perfume and 
 the beauty of the orange blossom are thine, yet 
 where the bloom of the orange sheds its fragrance 
 on the air, thou mightest indeed be overlooked in 
 thy lowliness and trampled on in neglect ; and all 
 unknown in thy modest beauty and humble worth, 
 thy sweetness wquld be wasted and thy blushes 
 be unseen. Beautiful flower, I thank thee for the 
 lesson thou hast given, and 0, that I may profit 
 by thy teachings ! 
 
82 FRAGMENT OF A POEM. 
 
 FRAGMENT pP A POEM. 
 
 [Written on visiting " Signal Hill," at the entrance of the 
 harbor of St. John s, Newfoundland.] 
 
 ENEATIT, upon the harbor s silv ry tide, 
 JL3 The white-winged messengers of Commerce 
 
 glide, 
 
 Whose banners, trembling in the unseen breeze, 
 Mark whence they hail these wonders of the 
 
 seas. 
 
 We turn unnumbered beauties gild the scene ; 
 In the rich rays of evening s rosy sheen, 
 The distant hills with burnished splendor rise 
 To kiss the cloud-robed spirit of the skies. 
 Xearer, the fields, whose cultivated soil 
 Shows the reward of industry and toil, 
 Bare their broad bosoms to the king of light, 
 Who, smiling, lingers as he bids good night ! 
 While nearer still, the limpid lake is spread, 
 O er which the dancing zephyrs lightly tread ; 
 And into which the purling streamlets flow, 
 In their bright journey to the seas below. 
 And here is reared the adamantine rock, 
 Whose rugged crest ascends aloft to mock 
 
FRAGMENT OF A POEM. 83 
 
 Th electric blaze the thunder s dreadful roar, 
 And ocean s surge, which sounds along- the shore. 
 
 Seaward we turn our gaze and from the steep, 
 The brown-sail d "Jack,"* is seen to skim the 
 
 deep; 
 
 She bears the fisher, hardy, strong and brave, 
 And ocean-treasures, drawn from neath the wave; 
 By day, she breasts the billowy foam ; at night, 
 She marks her course with phosphorescent light. 
 
 Aloft, on buoyant wing, the sea-birds rise, 
 In trackless circles through the ambient skies, 
 And round the proud ship course the watery 
 
 plain, 
 And mock her tardy movements in disdain. 
 
 Here too, the soldier, with his measured pace, 
 With form erect, and with becoming grace, 
 Strides to and fro, and glancing o er the foam, 
 Thinks of his early love 1 his early home 1 
 
 And here we stand ; and ne er shall be erased 
 These pictur d scenes on meni ry s pages traced, 
 Yaried in beauty wildly, boldly grand 
 By Nature s pencil drawn, by Nature planned. 
 Amid these scenes may knowledge rear her head, 
 Her brightest lustre here may virtue shed, 
 And here may bards of brighter genius rise, 
 " For souls may ripen in these Northern skies." 
 
 * A fishing-boat, so called in Newfoundland. 
 
84 WRECK OF THE NAUTILUS. 
 
 WRECK OF THE NAUTILUS/ 
 
 "T~YT~AR on the waters ! now the Cyclone s 
 
 VV breath 
 
 Bouses the waves in the wild dance of death, 
 Tears off their crests, as revolutions tear 
 The crowns from Kings. There s fury in the air, 
 Assuming horrent shapes, which madly sweep, 
 With demon cries, across the tortured deep. 
 
 Woe to the mariner ! his oak-ribbed bark 
 No more can serve as a protecting ark ! 
 Mastless and rudderless she drifts, a wreck, 
 While the fierce billows thunder on her deck, 
 Still clamorous for victims ! Woe to thee, 
 Thou peopled plaything of the raging sea ! 
 
 Here cling the brave, whom storms cannot 
 
 appal, 
 
 And there, the timid, who all vainly call, 
 In prayers, fear-prompted, for some swift relief, 
 Still mingling with the waves their tears of grief. 
 
WRECK OF THE " NAUTILUS. 85 
 
 O, soaring Hope, thy gentle wings must fail 
 When scathful ruin rides upon the gale ! 
 Man s puny might is powerless to save ; 
 For regal Neptune has prepared a grave, 
 All coral gemm d, down in his purple deep, 
 And summoned all his Nereids to weep ! 
 
 High and still higher rolls the mountain surge ; 
 Fierce and still fiercer angry tempests urge 
 Its onward sweep : it comes ! it comes ! be 
 ware ! 
 
 Whom, in its whelming fury, will it spare ? . 
 O erturned and torn, a thing of broken pride, 
 The wreck is swallowed by the hungry tide, 
 And, as it disappears, wild prayers and cries 
 Of concentrated agony arise. 
 O man, still clinging to that bubble, life, 
 Why art thou still with destiny at strife ? 
 What boots thy frantic struggles? Death is 
 
 nigh- 
 Yield, yield and learn : it is not hard to die I 
 
 Some sink at once within the roaring sea, 
 To rise, the heirs of immortality ; 
 While others, battling with the billows, gain 
 A few sad moments more of life and pain. 
 Thus, one by one, the victims disappear, 
 Till all save two are gone, two stragglers, near 
 Each other clinging to a floating tree, 
 Thrown in their way by chance or destiny. 
 
86 WRECK OF THE NAUTILUS. 
 
 The storm has spent its fury : now again 
 Bright skies are mirrored in the glassy main, 
 And the two seamen, on their friendly pine, 
 Voyage along in safety o er the brine. 
 Their bark, of roots fantastic is possessed, 
 Wreathed in the form of a gigantic nest, 
 Where, in the wilds of ocean solitude, 
 Some monster bird has nursed her callow brood. 
 
 Here nestling, hopeful seemed the twain at first, 
 But soon came hunger and unceasing thirst 
 To rack them into torture. Oh ! what pain 
 To be thus starving on the wat ry plain ! 
 To hope till hope assumes the guise of death, 
 And torture is increased with every breath ! 
 Thus days and days were spent, till phantoms 
 
 rose 
 
 With ghastly horrors to augment their woes ; 
 Strange shapes flit past that mocked them as 
 
 they flew ; 
 Strange sounds seemed uttered by some demon 
 
 crew, 
 
 And all seemed strange, and terrible, and dread 
 As fiendish revels round the uushrived dead ! 
 E en the wing d fish, in fond and sportive flight, 
 Were birds of evil omen to their sight ; 
 And the fair nautilus, with silken sail, 
 Was but the prophet or" some rising gale. 
 Down in the deep what monster forms drew nigh, 
 With eyes of fire ; and skeletons swam by, 
 
WRECK OF THE NAUTILUS. 87 
 
 Like mocking deaths, which seemed, with bony 
 
 hand, 
 
 To point new terrors in some viewless land, 
 Surrounded thus with every form of woe 
 That shipwrecked man was ever doomed to know, 
 One of the two leaped madly in the tide 
 To cool his burning brow ; he sank, and died ! 
 
 The other still lived on, if it be life, 
 When every breath with agony is rife, 
 And when, with waning strength, to know and feel 
 Has more of pang than torture s racking wheel, 
 lie was of Ethiop blood and stalwart frame, 
 And lived, he knew not why. No honor d name 
 And wealth of hopes were his ; still lived he on 
 Till hope and all but agony were gone. 
 
 Eight days of pain had passed. The evening star 
 Already gleamed in azure depths, afar, 
 When, like some sea bird vast, a sail drew nigh, 
 Paused by the pine to hear the victim s cry, 
 And gentle hands raised to a friendly deck, 
 The lone surviver of the foundered wreck. 
 
 *The steamship Nautilus, belonging to the "Southern 
 Steamship Company, was wrecked by the hurricane which 
 swept over the Gulf of Mexico on the 10th of August, 1856, 
 and by which Last Island was destroyed. She was at the 
 time on her way from Galveston to New Orleans with quite 
 a number of passengers. All on board perished, with the 
 exception of the colored steward, Jim Frisby, who was 
 rescued on the eighth day, as above described. 
 
88 WONDERS OF NATURE. 
 
 WONDERS OF NATURE. 
 
 ASK you for mystery ? then look upon 
 The ever changing miracle of life, 
 And if you can, trace out the wondrous link 
 Unseen, which joins the living to the dead. 
 The dead were living once, ere those, our friends, 
 Had form and being ; aye, and those whose life 
 Now charms the eye of animated dust, 
 Live, on what lived before. The flower of spring 
 Which gathers fragrance from the foulest spot, 
 And gives delicious odors to the breeze, 
 Where was it once ? whence came it ? who can 
 
 trace 
 The story of its atoms ? 
 
 One little month before 
 It ope d its petals to the wooing winds, 
 Where was the scented incense of its charm? 
 Where were those softly-tinted flow ret-leaves, 
 O er which a more than angel skill has left 
 The traces of its genius ? canst thou tell ? 
 Or, with thy " mind s creative eye " discern 
 Aught half so wonderful? Oh I marvel not 
 " The glorious king of day " bends low to kiss 
 These " handiworks " which Nature s potent art 
 
WONDERS OF NATURE. 89 
 
 Hath wrought out with an alchimistic charm 
 From Earth s discordant elements. The dust, 
 The stagnant and polluted water-pool, 
 And the revolting triumphs of decay, 
 Unsav ry and unsightly, these, aye, these 
 Are the materialities, with which 
 Nature performs her wonders. But e en here 
 We find the oft-used elements which have 
 A thousand times assumed a thousand shapes, 
 And will a thousand thousand shapes assume 
 Ere Nature bids them rest. All other things 
 Which glory in the plastic life of earth, 
 Like to the flow rets, flourish and decay, 
 Then wake renewed to being. Thus it is 
 Through all the fibres of that silver chord 
 Which circles round existence. But in man 
 A stranger mystery, combined, appears 
 A mental moral mortal mystery I 
 See st thou that strange expression in his eye 2 
 That stirring in his blood ? His face appears 
 To bear slight record, in its changeful flush, 
 Of some internal converse. Deep within 
 The vast profundity of noiseless thought 
 There seems a movement which communicates 
 A mystic impress to his speaking eye, 
 The mirror of his soul. 
 
 Even that eye 
 
 Now sparkling with so eloquent a sheen, 
 Will all its lustre lose, if we withhold 
 The nurture of the body. And that cheek 
 
90 WONDERS OF NATURE. 
 
 Which crimsons o er with innocence or shame 
 
 Will lose the rushing freshness of its blood 
 
 If food be but denied. Does thought, concealed, 
 
 And undeveloped, find a lurking place 
 
 In each insensate clod which ministers 
 
 To give organic growth ? Is that which leads 
 
 To thought its spirit-wing, itself unwinged ? 
 
 Is the low produce of the teeming earth, 
 
 An atom of the soul ? Cease, daring thought, 
 
 Nor farther tempt the strange inquiry, 
 
 Which spurns at thy connection with the dust. 
 
WHAT "iS LOVE LIKE? 91 
 
 WHAT IS LOVE LIKE ? 
 
 ~T~ IKE the balmy breath of the early spring 
 
 I J Is the first fond dream of love 
 A spirit which sighs on its viewless wing, 
 And comes as from worlds above. 
 
 Like the voiceless music which breathes delight 
 
 In the mystic and ceaseless roll 
 Of the starry hosts, that in robes of light, 
 
 Hymn bliss to the raptur d soul. 
 
 Like the Moslem s dream of a happier land, 
 When he gives to his fancy wing, 
 
 And the courtly charms of a Houri baud 
 Love s flow rets around him flin^. 
 
 Like the sun-born ray which awakes the hues 
 Of the blossoms that deck the plain, 
 
 And scatters its tints through the morning dews 
 Which have mirrored some fairy train. 
 
92 WHAT IS LOVE LIKE ? 
 
 Like the joyous song of the forest bird, 
 
 As it warbles its blissful lay, 
 When the leaflet worlds in the winds are stirred, 
 
 And the sylvan nymphs are at play : 
 
 Such, such is love may its blissful dream, 
 
 With its realm of untold delight 
 Round thy pathway shine, with a joyous beam 
 
 Of affection, forever bright ! 
 
 The foregoing lines, written for a lady s album in St. 
 John s, N. F., were in answer to the question which stands 
 as their heading. 
 
THE MOURNER S WAIT,. 93 
 
 THE MOURNER S WAIL. 
 
 " Blessed are they that mourn, for they shall be comforted." 
 
 [The following lines were written at the request of Mrs. 
 S , a relative of ex- President Fillmore s, and are intended 
 to convey a faint idea of her feelings when her two sons 
 were suddenly called away to the spirit-land, in the bloom 
 of early manhood.] 
 
 AND have ye gone, my children, have ye fled, 
 In life s warm spring-time, to that silent 
 bourn, 
 
 Whose cheerless chambers welcome but the dead, 
 And, closing once, admit of no return ? 
 
 7 Twas hard to part ! I loved you well, my boys, 
 For oh ! your lives were strangely linked with 
 mine, 
 
 A part they were of my maternal joys, 
 And sad it was to watch your son s decline. 
 
 Too soon he came, the minister of fate, 
 The pale, grim archer of the fleshless hand, 
 
 And left me here, lone and disconsolate, 
 
 As she who mourned the loss of Judah s land. 
 
94 THE MOURXER S WAIL. 
 
 Grief, like a cloud, hung heavy o er my soul, 
 With starless midnight s all-pervading gloom ; 
 
 "While round me seemed to stalk the demon-ghole, 
 Fresh from his revel feastings in the tomb. 
 
 The world appeared all sad : e en hope had veiled 
 The cheering brightness of her angel-face ; 
 
 And mournfully the sighing breezes wailed, 
 Like the lone echoes of some phantom race. 
 
 Then came the silent dullness of despair, 
 
 With the strange solace of out-gushing tears, 
 
 Which flow in blessedness, as if to bear 
 
 The heart s deep sorrows in their pearly spheres. 
 
 And sinful seemed my selfish wail ; but soon 
 " A still small voice " low whispered in my ear, 
 
 Soft as the song-bird s melodies in June, 
 
 And sweet as freighted with an angePs cheer. 
 
 " Death is the door of life " so spake the voice, 
 " The darkened portal to the brighter land 
 
 Where earth s poor mourners evermore rejoice, 
 With the high hymns of an immortal band. 
 
 " Thy sons are living still a larger life 
 
 Than earth can give, or death can take away, 
 
 Is theirs existence, freed from care and strife, 
 And spirit joys, uncumbered by the clay. 
 
THE MOURNER S WAIL. 95 
 
 " With them all love is purity, and light 
 
 Beams from its Central Source, so soft and 
 
 clear, 
 
 That that which darkness was, becomes all bright, 
 And blissful homes, not made with hands/ 
 appear. 
 
 " Immortal fruits there ripen for the blest, 
 In God s own garden, of unfading bloom ; 
 
 And angels welcome still the stranger guest 
 Who comes a weary pilgrim from the tomb." 
 
 Thus having breathed, the seraph-whisper ceased ; 
 
 But Death no more seemed Terror s tyrant 
 
 King 
 The usher, rather, to a sacred feast 
 
 Where ransom d souls celestial music sing. 
 
96 THE PLEASURES OF PIETY. 
 
 THE PLEASURES OF PIETY. 
 
 LET worldly mirth hymn loud her syren 
 song ; 
 
 Let passion-pleasures their enchantments spread ; 
 Let beauty circle round the festive throng, 
 
 With a fond, rapturous, fantastic tread ; 
 
 Let her extend her hand, and we be led 
 Through the wild mazes of the stirring dance, 
 
 Where young desire shall be all fondly fed 
 With nectar-sweets : and love s enkindling glance 
 Shall call up in the soul a most delusive trance : 
 
 Yet these are flow rets which are doomed to fade ; 
 
 The fleeting breath of transitory joy, 
 All fragrant for a moment, and then, made 
 
 To mingle with the poisons which destroy : 
 
 These are the sweets which, fondly tasted, cloy 
 The ardent longings of excited sense ; 
 
 And these the burning glances which destroy, 
 And leave no soft abiding recompense 
 To soothe the joyless soul s farewell to Innocence. 
 
 But in the peaceful ways of pleasantness, 
 Which Piety points out as Virtue s road, 
 
 Joys, never-fading, ever-truthful, bless 
 
 The fainting pilgrim, bending neath his load ; 
 Onward he journeys to a lov d abode, 
 
THE PLEASURES OF PIETY. 9 
 
 Forever seen by Faith s far-stretching eye, 
 
 And grateful for the kindnesses bestowed 
 By Him who fills the circuit of the sky, 
 He bows with holy trust, and worships the Most 
 High. 
 
 His is a sacred pleasure his a trust 
 
 Which nerves the spirit with a fond delight 
 A sweetly savor d balm, which ever must 
 
 The secret soul to extacies invite, 
 
 Buoyant with cheerful prospects which unite 
 The earthly and the heav nly, he appears 
 
 With holy visions on his raptur d sight, 
 To look beyond this world of care and tears 
 To where a fadeless land of happiness appears. 
 
 And joyous, too, are they the fair the young, 
 
 Who folly s cup have never learned to drain ; 
 Who ne er have listened to the charmer s tongue, 
 
 Breathing, with skillful lure, the fatal strain ; 
 
 Ne er have they known the grief-producing pain 
 Of Thought s compunctious whisper, and im 
 pressed, 
 
 Like the soft calm which, stretching o er the 
 
 main, 
 
 Pictures the deep blue Heav n in ocean s breast, 
 They seem to shadow forth the joys of future rest. 
 
98 VISIT OF THE SUNBEAMS 
 
 VISIT OF THE SUNBEAMS TO THE 
 FALLS OF NIAGARA. 
 
 FROM orient realms, in depths of space afar, 
 Young sunbeams travel in their golden car ; 
 Lightly they glance along old Ocean s breast, 
 Enkindling sea-gems on each wavelet s crest ; 
 O er flow ry plains and verdant fields they pass, 
 Where dewy pearls adorn each blade of grass 
 Where fragrance rises from the tears of Night 
 When smiled on by these messengers of light, 
 These angel visitants of earth, whose ray 
 Receives its lustre from the God of Day. 
 
 Away, away they speed and many a grove 
 Sends forth its tuneful melodies to rove 
 Amid the brightness of their path, and sing 
 A mournful anthem on exultant wing. 
 Still on they pass the cottage and the hall, 
 The snow-crown d mount, the ivied castle wall, 
 The rich man s mansion and the poor man s home 
 Are lighted by their presence as they roam. 
 
 Beside Niagara, entranced, I stood, 
 Awed by the thunder of its falling flood, 
 Stilled by the voice of its eternal roar, 
 Passions were lull d and fancy taught to soar. 
 
TO THE FALLS OF NIAGARA. 99 
 
 Tvvas early morn, and as the Sunbeams came 
 In golden grandeur from a world of flame, 
 They reveled in their brightness, mid the trees, 
 Whose fresh leaves fluttered in the whisp ring 
 
 breeze, 
 
 Then rested, old Niagara, on thee 
 Sovereign of streams and type of majesty ! 
 Thy smiling courtiers, rising from thy feet, 
 Rise up on wings of amber-mist to greet 
 Sol s bright ambassadors they meet they bring 
 A rainbow-wreath to crown the Cascade King ! 
 Twas brightly beautiful ! its changeful hues 
 Were brilliant as the love-dreams of the muse ; 
 While blending glories glittered in each gem 
 Set in that fair supernal diadem. 
 
 On pass thy Sunbeams and the vapors bright 
 In mystic dance of loveliness and light ; 
 Wildly they wander through the Gelds of air, 
 Or stoop to kiss sweet Flora s children fair ; 
 New charms expand in the bright, beauteous race, 
 And fragrance welcomes still the fond embrace ; 
 With ever-varying tint each petal glows, 
 The smiling lily hails the blushing rose 
 Still on they go, through garden, field and grove, 
 la ceaseless rounds of harmony and love ! 
 
100 THE SOXG OF LABOR. 
 
 THE SONG OF LABOR. 
 
 [Written by request, and read at the Anniversary celebra 
 tion of the "Screwman s Benevolent Association," of New 
 Orleans.] 
 
 HO ! idling drones of this teeming earth, 
 Make way for the sons of toil, 
 Who redeem the promise implied by birth, 
 
 And live not by theft or spoil ; 
 Faith clings to the manly and honest grasp, 
 
 And brightens their eagle-glance, 
 And lordlings quake, like the trembling asp, 
 As the sons of toil advance. 
 
 With a stalwart arm and a trenchant blade 
 
 The forests are cleared away, 
 And Labor laughs, as with hoe and spade 
 
 It delves in the virgin clay : 
 Whatever it touches is turned to gold ; 
 
 Fair fruitful fields appear 
 Where deserts moaned in the days of old, 
 
 And knew not the harvest s cheer. 
 
 There s a magic charm in the toiler s hand 
 
 An all but creative might 
 Which a thought can clothe, and a dream expand, 
 
 Till they burst on the gazer s sight 
 
JHE SOXG OF LABOR. 101 
 
 In temples fair, and in fabrics strange 
 
 The triumphs of plastic art ; 
 Which can give to Science its widest range, 
 
 And to Commerce its golden mart. 
 
 The stately ship, which in pride careers 
 
 O er the wilds of the pathless sea, 
 And the mystic needle by which she steers, 
 
 Brave toiler, were made by thee : 
 The freight she bears is thy gathered store, 
 
 From mountain and field and mine 
 Prom the forest shade, from the pearl-strewn shore, 
 
 And the caverned depths of brine. 
 
 Thou st built the palace and sacred fane, 
 
 And fashioned the kingly crown : 
 The cities which smile upon hill and plain, 
 
 And forts to defend or frown ; 
 The broad canal and the iron rail, 
 
 And the lightning s nerve-like wire, 
 Which can thrill with thoughts, or in sadness wail, 
 
 Like the strings of Apollo s lyre. 
 
 The household gods in the lowly home 
 
 Are sacred made by thee : 
 They are dear as the perfumed amber-foam 
 
 To the gods of the sounding sea. 
 The tilings of use, and for courtly show, 
 
 Spring alike from thy cultured skill : 
 Then assert thy rights, and let rulers know 
 
 The might of the toiler s will ! 
 
102 THE SONG OF LABOR. 
 
 Ho ! idling drones of this teeming earth, 
 
 Make way for the sons of toil, 
 Who redeem the promise implied by birth, 
 
 And live not by theft or spoil : 
 Faith clings to their manly and honest grasp 
 
 And brightens their eagle-glance, 
 And lordlings quake like the trembling asp , 
 
 When the sons of toil advance. 
 
HENRY CLAY. 103 
 
 HENEY CLAY. 
 
 [The following lines, written at the request of the 
 New Orleans u Clay Monument Association, were read 
 by the Author at the laying of the Corner-Stone of the 
 Monument, on Canal-street, April 12th, 1856.] 
 
 ~T~ ONELY the mill-boy wends his weary way, 
 I J Too soon inured to toil. A mother s wants 
 A widowed mother s claim his young regard, 
 And labor is a pleasure. Sometimes thoughts, 
 Prophetic of the future, stir his soul, 
 And give ambition wings. Golden and grand 
 The hills of Fame, in the dim distance, rise 
 All spangled o er with triumphs, and he feels 
 That he can mount them with an earnest tread, 
 And wreathe a fadeless chaplet for his brow. 
 
 Nature is his instructor : trees and flowers ; 
 The sparkling gems in Night s cerulean dome ; 
 The spring-time warblers, and th insensate clod 
 All teach him wondrous lore. Bright as the sheen 
 Of an archangel s wing his thoughts take form 
 In rudimental beauty, but his tongue, 
 As yet unskilled in verbal witcheries, 
 All vainly strives to give them fitting speech. 
 
104 HENRY CLAY. 
 
 Time speeds its flight : the mill-boy s hopes expand, 
 Friends gather round with kindly proffered aid, 
 And he becomes a student. Books are his 
 The treasure-tomes of deep forensic skill 
 Mazes of written and unwritten law 
 And he attempts the hard though pleasant task 
 Of searching out their hidden mysteries. 
 
 Who speaks of failure to that ardent boy ? 
 
 He scorns the timid word ! His soul has grown 
 
 On young ambition s manna, and he dreams 
 
 That he shall yet so fix his name on Time 
 
 That all the Future cannot blot it out. 
 
 And oh ! his mother mingles with his dream ; 
 
 That gentle mother, who, in poverty, 
 
 Had trained his infant steps ; and in his eyes 
 
 Had looked her doting love ; and in his ear 
 
 Had breathed a mother s purest, kindest thoughts. 
 
 And so, the boy dreams on, and studies on 
 
 Each day a new success ! The richest stores 
 
 Of legal erudition soon are his, 
 
 And with the strength of a fresh giant mind 
 
 He boldly joins in the polemic fray. 
 
 JS"ow, like " the star of empire," westernward 
 He onward speeds, and where Kentucky s fields 
 Spread out its virgin beauty, he begins 
 The summer labors of an active life. 
 
 With " the stern joy 7 the generous foenian feels, 
 When battling with the brave, in mental strife 
 
HENRY CLAY. 105 
 
 He meets the ablest jurists of the West, 
 Reason his sword, and eloquence his shield. 
 Strong as the heaving of a mountain wave ; 
 Playful as zephyrs toying with fair flowers ; 
 Clear as the light, and luminous as stars, 
 His thoughts take wing, and clothe themselves 
 with words. 
 
 In proud preeminence, high over all, 
 
 Like Saul above his fellows, forth he stands, 
 
 A giant among giants. Soon the halls 
 
 Of legislation echo to his voice, 
 
 While plaudits hail the wisdom of his speech. 
 
 Deep, vast and comprehensive, now his mind 
 
 In questions of high polity engaged, 
 
 Becomes a nation s guide. 
 
 When storms arise 
 
 His are the clarion-tones which counsel war, 
 While others prate of " Peace !" Honor and 
 
 Right ! 
 
 The flag s protective pow r ! these are his themes; 
 And when, with burning words, he gives them 
 
 voice, 
 
 The pulses of a people s will are stirr d, 
 As fierce winds stir the ocean to its depths. 
 His counsels sage time fails not to approve : 
 The seas gain other sov reigns ; and the name 
 Of proud Columbia brightens to a world 
 The dread of despots, but the hope of man ! 
 
106 HENRY CLAY. 
 
 With the charm d utterance of " Compromise," 
 He breathes a spell, and civil discord ends ; 
 Strife shrinks within its covert, exorcised, 
 And the broad Union hails the cherish d word I 
 He, too, is Freedom s pleader he, the wise, 
 The brave, the eloquent, the nation s guide I 
 He pleads for struggling Greece ; and every sound 
 Is turned into a sword. But for his voice, 
 The noblest river of this Western land 
 Our own broad Mississippi would have been 
 The claim of rival powers, and the source 
 Of fierce contention and of wasting wars. 
 
 So lived he on the statesman and the sage : 
 And when the herald from the shining land 
 Appeared to claim him, firm at duty s post 
 The Christian Tribune pleading still was found- 
 Pleading for Brotherhood and Compromise ! 
 
 He passed ! from breathing dust to endless life 
 From earth s closed labors to supernal spheres 1 
 
 Gone is the peerless commoner, self-made, 
 
 Whose acts were all a triumph ; who, to gain 
 
 The proudest honors in a nation s gift, 
 
 Would ne er forsake the right ; and now, his praise 
 
 Falls from all lips in heartfelt gratitude. 
 
 Fitting it is his cenotaph to rear 
 
 In view of the glad waters of that tide 
 
HENRY CLAY. 107 
 
 * 
 
 Whose Commerce speaks his constant eulogy : 
 
 This is the corner-stone : and here to-day 
 
 Assembled thousands see it firmly laid. 
 
 Above, to bear his fame to latest time, 
 
 In monumental marble, shall arise 
 
 The faint translation of a grateful thought 
 
 Which swells in each true breast for HENRY CLAY. 
 
108 LIGHT. 
 
 LIG.HT. 
 
 LIGHT, beautiful light 1 
 Light, the reflection of Deity s smile, 
 That wakeneth worlds from the chaos of night, 
 
 And brightcneth ocean and isle. 
 Fleet as a thought o er the waters careering, 
 Iris hued pearls in thy pathway appearing, 
 Gleam on the foam, while the depths thou art 
 cheering 
 
 Light, beautiful light ! 
 
 Light, cherishing light ! 
 Light as it lingers o er forest and field 
 That tinteth the flowers to gladden the sight, 
 
 And brightens their emerald shield. 
 Thou to the gardens, in glory descending, 
 Mystical beauties forever art blending, 
 While to the fruit-trees rich treasures thou rt 
 lending 
 
 Light, cherishing light ! 
 
 Light, gladdening light ! 
 Light that converteth to diamonds the dew, 
 That wakens the morn with a hymn of delight, 
 As if twere created anew ! 
 
LIGHT. 109 
 
 When over nature thy mantle thou rt flinging, 
 Groves become vocal, and birds with their singing 
 Gush forth in praise, like a fountain upspringing 
 Light, gladdening light ! 
 
 Light, truth-telling light ! 
 Light as it conies from the radiant spheres, 
 That shadows dispels with its silvery might, 
 
 And dangers and phantoms and fears. 
 Bright through the lattice thy matin rays streaming, 
 Startle the maid from her passionate dreaming, 
 Showing the true from that only in seeming 
 Light, truth-telling light ! 
 
 Light, heavenly light ! 
 
 Light, as in brightness it beams on the mind, 
 That seems with a pencil of glory to write 
 
 High lyrics of hope for mankind. 
 Mortals, the mystical tablet divining, 
 Still for the fair and the holy are pining, 
 While their best thoughts thou art upwards 
 inclining 
 
 Light, heavenly light ! 
 
110 KEEP STEP TO THE MUSIC. 
 
 KEEP STEP TO THE MUSIC. 
 
 Keeping step to the music of the Union." RUFTJS CHOATE. 
 
 I /^EEP step to the music the music that 
 JL\- thrills 
 
 The national heart, from the sea to the hills, 
 And which in one glorious anthem combines 
 Its holiest hopes and its noblest designs. 
 
 Keep step to the music though traitors advance 
 With a banner of black, and with uplifted lance, 
 Be our footfall but firm they will soon pass away, 
 Like the dew-damps of night in the brightness 
 of day ! 
 
 Keep step to the music that song of the stars 
 Which brighten our standard come peace or 
 
 come wars. 
 
 Our step shall be true, and THE Uxiox shall be 
 The watchword and hope of the brave and the 
 
 free ! 
 
KEEP STEP TO THE MUSIC, 111 
 
 Keep step to the music and trample in scorn 
 
 On fratricide foemen of treachery born ; 
 
 Tear down their black banner, and raise in its 
 
 stead 
 The flag neath which freemen and heroes can 
 
 tread. 
 
 Keep step to the music its tones are as dear 
 
 As the voices of home, to the patriot s ear : 
 
 The march is a Nation s, whose States e er 
 
 shall be, 
 " Distinct as the billows, yet one as the sea." 
 
 The above lines were written in 1856, and were set to 
 music by M. THEODORE VON LA HAGHE, of New Orleans. 
 
112 LINES. 
 
 LINES. 
 
 [Written for a Lady s <; Hair Album," at Niagara.] 
 
 DEAft braided locks 1 which tell 
 Of the distant, the departed, 
 As the songs of ocean murmur in the shell ; 
 And which whisper " All is well 1" 
 When we might be lonely hearted 
 And with voiceless music mystically swell. 
 
 Locks fair, and dark, and gray, 
 Erst to kindred ringlets mated ; 
 
 Severed from the crowns of loved ones now away. 
 Some in spirit-gardens stray, 
 Warmed by suns all uncreated, 
 
 And some still linger with us in the clay. 
 
 To other times ye pass, 
 
 Bright aids to recollection, 
 Mirroring the storied past as in a glass, 
 
 And shall we cry, alas ! 
 
 In our spirit s deep dejection, 
 For those cut down and withered as the grass ? 
 
LINES. 113 
 
 No : they shall reappear 
 
 In a land of light unending, 
 Where no eye shall e er be dimmed by a tear 
 
 In that higher, purer sphere 
 
 Where celestial glories blending, 
 Shall form a crown for those who triumph here. 
 
114 THE DREAM OF THE FIRST INFANT. 
 
 THE DREAM OF THE FIRST INFANT. 
 
 IN days of bliss when the earth was young, 
 And the flow rets laughed in their primal birth, 
 When song-birds fluttered the groves among, 
 And wakened the echoes of sinless mirth ; 
 Then, then was the pride of the garden given 
 The choicest gift of indulgent heaven 
 And man was glad ; for a richer sheen 
 Seemed born with the smile of his Eden-queen. 
 
 With gayer plumage and sweeter voice, 
 With purer fragrance and tints more choice, 
 The birds and flowers appeared to bring 
 To the bridal bower their offering. 
 So rich and rare was that bridal gift, 
 
 So pure and dulcet the spousal song, 
 That they seemed the souls of the lov d to lift 
 
 To the courts of bliss where the angels throng. 
 
THE DREAM OF THE FIRST INFANT. 115 
 
 On a sunny morn of another spring, 
 When the birds of Eden were gay of wing, 
 When the sunbeams danced and the playful breeze 
 With the green leaves toyed of the incense-trees, 
 As sporting mid treasures of opening bloom, 
 Its pinions were laden with rich perfume ; 
 On that sunny morn, where a gentle stream 
 Was kissed by the light s most golden beam, 
 Beneath the shade of that fabled tree, 
 Whose leaves were attuned to minstrelsy, 
 A mother sat twas a thing of joy, 
 To see her there with her first-born boy 
 That first fond mother for pure and fair 
 They seemed as they sat together there. 
 
 Oh, bright was the smile on that mother s face 
 
 As the wing of the angel that passed her by, 
 When her glances of love first learned to trace 
 
 The picture of thought in her infant s eye. 
 The wings of the angel might yet be seen, 
 And the sceptre he bore, with its dazzling sheen, 
 And his beautiful face half hidden from sight 
 In a graceful halo of heavenly light ; 
 And never before had that earth-born child 
 
 Looked out on a picture which seemed so fair, 
 And the earliest mother of infants smiled, 
 
 As if in the joy of her child to share. 
 
 Twas a morn of beauty the birds so gay, 
 With gorgeous plumage, from spray to spray, 
 
116 THE DREAM OF THE FIRST INFANT. 
 
 All lightly moved, and their melody 
 Seemed to echo the tones of the minstrel-tree. 
 The blossoms, the buds and the emerald shade, 
 The pearly stream where the sunbeams played, 
 The light and the song, and zephyr s flight 
 Gave birth to the transports of young delight. 
 0, ne er was the spirit of infancy 
 
 Awakened to thought in a scene more blessed, 
 And never was child on its mother s knee 
 
 More dearly loved, or more fondly pressed. 
 
 As calm as the petals which gently close 
 When the eve invites them to soft repose, 
 And pure as the dew which from heaven fall 
 When the stars illumine their azure halls, 
 So calm and pure did refreshing sleep 
 O er that infant s senses its vigils keep. 
 
 The mother whispered a lullaby, 
 
 To deepen the sleep of the slumberer, 
 And the voice of the angel gave sweet reply, 
 
 In tones of delight that were new to her ; 
 Then the angel plumed his wings for flight, 
 
 As a guide to that infant s spirit thought ; 
 And wondrous visions of beauty and light 
 
 To the ken of the dreamer were swiftly brought. 
 
THE DREAM OF THE FIRST INFANT. 117 
 
 In dreams through many a beauteous land, 
 The infant and angel went hand in hand, 
 And mountain and forest, and flood and shore, 
 And rivers which sparkled with golden ore, 
 And wonders of sea, and of earth and sky, 
 Seemed pictured in light to that infant s eye. 
 
 Then away through the boundless blue, afar, 
 Where kindles the beam of the farthest star ; 
 Beyond the reach of the tinted ray 
 Which limits the realm of the sun-god s day, 
 Away, away, seemed the wanderer s flight, 
 Till the gates of heaven appeared in sight. 
 
 " Open the gates," did the angel cry, 
 
 " I come with a spirit that s free from sin ;" 
 
 And a silv ry voice said in kind reply, 
 " The pure and spotless can enter in." 
 
 The gates were opened the seraphs smiled 
 On that lovely angel-directed child, 
 But the highest spirit could scarce declare, 
 The countless glories that centered there. 
 No more to that child seemed the gems of earth 
 Of peerless beauty, and priceless worth, 
 And the sea-born pearls and the stars of even 
 Seemed dust when compared with the gems of 
 heaven. 
 
118 THE DREAM OF THE FIRST INFANT. 
 
 " Such," said the angel, " thy lot shall be 
 These visions of glory shall e er remain, 
 
 If thy spirit in infant purity 
 
 Be kept from error s polluting stain. 
 
 The child awoke ; and its mother s eye 
 
 Was bright with a lustrous and grateful gleam, 
 
 For she knew that the angel that then stood by 
 Had guided the course of her infant s dream. 
 
ODE TO SPRING. 119 
 
 ODE TO SPRING. 
 
 HAIL to thee, SPRING I 
 Again thou coniest with thy chosen sweets ; 
 Again our cheeks thy perfumed breathing greets 
 
 While birds, on wing, 
 Tinted with iris-hues, from every tree 
 Are hymning choral welcomes unto thee. 
 
 Where hast thou been, 
 With all thy fairy ornature of green, 
 Of sunbeams woven by a hand unseen ? 
 
 Gathering in 
 
 The life-seed of some precious floral gem 
 To decorate thy queenly diadem ? 
 
 Or, haply, thou 
 
 Hast been a wanderer in other lands, 
 To cheer up those whom despot Might commands, 
 
 And teach them how 
 To gather flow ? rets from that sacred tree 
 Which gods and men have christened " LIBERTY 1" 
 
120 ODE TO SPRING. 
 
 If that be so, 
 
 Let blessings on thy holy mission rest, 
 And Freedom s spring-time hopes, within each 
 breast 
 
 Be made to grow, 
 As grows the bud which clasps the promised 
 
 flower, 
 Beneath the silent magic of thy power. 
 
 Long does it seem 
 
 Since thou wast here before in all thy charms, 
 But, welcome now, as to a lover s arms, 
 
 If thou canst deem 
 The worship of a spirit such as mine, 
 Worthy of aught like unto thee, divine ! 
 
 Familiar, now, 
 
 Let us hold converse of thy blissful life, 
 With teeming poesy so sweetly rife, 
 
 And for thy brow, 
 
 Of thine own flowers, if thou lt grant me leave, 
 A simple chaplet I will strive to weave. 
 
 Forgive the thought ! 
 No bard of earth can e er expect to bring 
 To such as thou a welcome offering, 
 
 For, heaven-taught, 
 The birds to thee sing far diviner lays, 
 While every leaf has lyrics in thy praise. 
 
ODE TO SPRING. 121 
 
 Each petal tells, 
 
 With all the fragrant eloquence of Truth, 
 The story of thy never-fading youth ; 
 
 While fairy bells 
 
 Open their honied lips to hymn thy fame 
 In words too pure for human tongues to name. 
 
 Circling around 
 
 The changeful surface of God s footstool Earth, 
 Thou giv st the glories of the garden birth ; 
 
 And o er the ground, 
 
 In lowly dale and by the mountain stream, 
 Are flung thy gifts pure as an angeFs dream. 
 
 No scorching sun 
 
 Of summer ever burns upon thy brow, 
 For thou rt away ere Summer comes, and thou, 
 
 Perennial* one ! 
 
 Canst ne er know Autumn s " sere and yellow leaf," 
 Or Winter s wailing monody of grief. 
 
 I knew a maid, 
 
 Fair, almost, as thou art, who used to cull 
 The blossoms from thy bowers at evening s lull, 
 
 That- she might braid 
 
 * The critic may, perhaps, object to the term " Perennial," 
 in this connection. The writer s defence is, that Spring 
 the personified Spring of Poesy is ever-existent ; passing 
 from land to land, she has always flowers beneath her feet 
 and perfume in her breath, and in our own " Sunny South " 
 she may be said continually to linger. 
 
122 ODE TO SPRING. 
 
 Of them, a wreath, to deck her virgin brow 
 Tis scarce a year ago where is she now ? 
 
 In dreamless sleep ! 
 A cheerless chamber in the silent tomb ! 
 Corruption s chosen at the feast of Doom ! 
 
 Well may we weep, 
 
 When that stern robber, Death, in wasteful glee, 
 Can lay his fleshless hand on such as she. 
 
 But thou, fair Spring, 
 
 Art still the same ; as beautiful and young 
 As when, in Eden s bowers, thy praise was sung, 
 
 On angel s wing, 
 
 And thy fresh floral gifts were primal blown 
 Ere on Temptation s tree the fruit had grown. 
 
 ! welcome, then, 
 
 Thrice welcome, with thy zephyr breath of balm, 
 Thy bud and blossom, and thy branch of palm ; 
 
 And when again 
 
 Thou leav st us in thy gay and glad career, 
 Bid our hopes follow round thy floral year. 
 
LINES. 123 
 
 LINES. 
 
 [Written on the death of an aged lady of Boston, England, 
 whose last words were "All is toe//."] 
 
 SHE lay in suffering the crimson tide 
 With feeble impulse, sought its customed 
 
 flow; 
 But those who loved her still, were by her side, 
 
 With ready hand, determined to bestow 
 Whatever might ease a pang, or be supplied, 
 
 To sweeten that deep cup, which all below 
 Must drink, to sorrows past, before they stand 
 Mid the green fields of the celestial land. 
 
 And willingly she drank ; her fourscore years 
 Had taken, of that bitter cup, away 
 
 Much of its bitterness ; for pains and tears 
 Had made the silver chord of life decay 
 
 With gradual infirmity. No fears, 
 
 Urged her to wish her spirit s longer stay 
 
 In that frail tenement, so long the load 
 
 Which kept it from its heaven-gem d abode. 
 
124 
 
 LINES. 
 
 And " all is well," she said, with latest breath, 
 And, ALL is WELL ! how sweetly does the sound 
 
 Come, angel voic d a harbinger of death 
 From those to the unfading Eden bound ! 
 
 It speaks immortal trust, and of that wreath 
 Where Faith and Hope, in sweet embrace are 
 found 
 
 Joined to that pure and everlasting Yine, 
 
 Planted by Love, where suns eternal shine. 
 
FAREWELL. 125 
 
 FAREWELL. 
 
 HTpAEEWELL ! O sad and tender word, 
 JD How deep thy magic spell ! 
 For friends, in cot or gilded hall, 
 Tis hard to say Farewell ! 
 
 Farewell it lingers on the tongue, 
 While many a pleasing dream 
 
 Calls up, anew, long-past delights 
 From life s uneven stream. 
 
 Farewell what pen can e er record 
 
 What tongue can ever tell, 
 The burning thoughts which cluster round 
 
 That magic word FAREWELL ! 
 
12G THE FORSAKEN OXE. 
 
 THE FORSAKEN ONE.* 
 
 SHE grew in loveliness, a fair young thing, 
 O er which the angels seemed their smiles 
 
 to fling 
 
 In rich profusion ; and as gentle, she, 
 As the light breeze which wafts from Eden s tree 
 Undying odors through the breathing air, 
 To bless and circulate forever there. 
 And as she grew in loveliness, her thought, 
 By Fancy s bright ideal teachings taught, 
 Pictured a thousand scenes of untold bliss 
 And peopled all with dreams of happiness. 
 
 * " THE FORSAKEN ONE " is no imaginary character. The 
 writer became acquainted with her melancholy history 
 while standing beside her grave in Newfoundland, where 
 she lived, and loved, and died ! She is said to have been 
 remarkably beautiful and intellectual, and her memory will 
 long be sacredly cherished by the fair daughters of Terra 
 Nova. The reason why she was so heartlessly forsaken, 
 and but a few days before that appointed for her marriage, 
 arose from sectarian prejudices fostered in the mind of her 
 lover by his friends. The lines, as above, were hastily 
 written on ship-board, and an imperfect copy of them has 
 already appeared in print. 
 
THE FORSAKEN ONE. 127 
 
 Her heart was like a harp, wooed by the winds, 
 And, grateful for the music which it finds 
 Trill from its strings in sweetest melody, 
 Asks not the wooers if they ere shall flee. 
 She loved her relatives, her friends, and all 
 The flowers that bloom at Spring s omnific call ; 
 She loved the birds, the wilds, the purple sea, 
 The stars which light up heaven s immensity, 
 The regal splendor of the mid-day sun, 
 And the rich glories, when his course is run, 
 Which gild the curtains of the glowing West, 
 To decorate his couch of rosy rest. 
 
 But one there was, who ever used to seem, 
 In the fond trustings of young passion s dream, 
 Brighter and fairer, aye, and fonder too, 
 Than all beside that ever met her view ; 
 His many faults all others could descry, 
 Yet faultless still he stood before her eye 
 As angels are, that breathe in courts above, 
 An atmosphere of worship and of love. 
 Though every friend opposed, she loved him yet, 
 And still believed he never could forget 
 The vows and promises so oft-times made 
 In that fair bower, in whose spangled shade 
 They ve sat, time after time, as eve stole on, 
 And watched " Night s silvery queen " ascend her 
 
 throne, 
 
 With all the star-nymphs that attend her train, 
 To sing the wonders of the blissful reign. 
 
128 THE FORSAKEN ONE. 
 
 Thus have they sat, the loving and the loved, 
 And if a zephyr in that arbor moved 
 One em rald gem, one flower supporting leaf, 
 She d count it an intruder, and a thief, 
 That came to rob her ear, she knew not why, 
 Of its fond treasure her own loved one s sigh. 
 
 But time passed on, and he, the loved, became 
 Careless of her, her off rings and her flame. 
 The treasures of her love were prized no more ; 
 He fled ! and all her happiness was o er, 
 Save when in prayer she sought heaven s blissful 
 
 shade, 
 And prayed that choicest blessings might be 
 
 made 
 
 To hover, like a dream of light, above 
 The future footsteps of her faithless love. 
 
 Twas winter, and the frost-king reared his 
 
 throne 
 
 Where meteor lights illumed his frozen zone, 
 While his chill palace, of the water-rock, 
 Braved the rude tempest and the storm-waves 
 
 shock. 
 
 Cold as the breathings of his cheerless court, 
 Where pleasure never wreathed the smiles of 
 
 sport, 
 
 Were all the smiles of all the world to her 
 Who would her faithless love to all prefer. 
 
THE FORSAKEN ONE. 129 
 
 Spring came with birds and flowers : she fain 
 
 would take 
 
 One ramble more around that star-gemmed lake 
 Where oft with him she d roved in hours of joy, 
 Ere blighted hopes were missioned to destroy. 
 But, ah ! she could not, for in health s decay, 
 A frost had touched the blossoms of her May. 
 The roses on her cheek were seen to fade ; 
 The fond confidings of that trusting maid, 
 So cruelly deceived, could ne er again 
 Picture a scene that was not full of pain. 
 Birds sang, and flowerets bloomed, but could not 
 
 bring 
 
 The virgin freshness of love s early spring. 
 To her young mind the bloom of hope was 
 
 past, 
 
 And withered, as if touched by that death-blast 
 Which o er the burning desert speeds its way, 
 To scatter desolation and decay. 
 Day after day witnessed her health s decline ; 
 Though beauty lingered round its cherished 
 
 shrine, 
 
 And yet continued, when with dying breath 
 She welcomed on the stern approach of death ! 
 The spoiler grim, beheld with envious view 
 The little love had left him there to do, 
 And when, at length, he threw his fated dart, 
 A ray of pity touched his bloodless heart, 
 To see her so resigned, so meek, so fair, 
 To hear the breathings of her latest prayer, 
 
130 THE FORSAKEN OXE. 
 
 For when the lamp of life was waxing dim, 
 Forgetful of herself, she prayed for him, 
 And dead to all beside, she still was heard, 
 Breathing his name a fond and fatal word 1 
 
THE JOURNEY OF A SIGH. 131 
 
 THE JOURNEY OF A SIGH, 
 
 A SIGH 1 a woman s sigh of love, 
 Was borne on a zephyr s wing ; 
 To the bright and beauteous courts above, 
 Where unfading flowerets spring. 
 
 An angel met that love-fraught sigh, 
 As it roamed on its pinions bright ; 
 
 With a smile of promise, he asked it " why 
 It had entered the land of light ?" 
 
 " I come," its peerless spirit said, 
 
 " As the whisper of love s young dream ; 
 
 From my earthly home I have fondly fled 
 To where lights celestial gleam : 
 
 And pure is the tale of love I bear, 
 As the sheen of thine own bright wing ; 
 
 For the love is pure, and the lady fair, 
 Whose whispers of soul I bring. 
 
 For her I ask all the joys of earth, 
 
 And a place mid the West, in Heaven ;" 
 
 And the angel said " To the child of worth, 
 Both, both shall be freely given." 
 
132 A VISION. 
 
 A VISION. 
 
 I had a dream which was not all a dream." BYRON. 
 
 WAS in the hush of midnight Sorrow s wail 
 JL Died on my ear, as sleep its mystic veil 
 Threw o er my senses, and my unchain d soul, 
 Freed from terrestrial bondage and control, 
 Panted for fearless flight. Fancy stood by, 
 "With wild adventurous daring in her eye ; 
 " Dost wish," said she, " to course, on burnish d 
 
 wing, 
 
 The perfumed regions of unending spring ? 
 To triumph over space from star to star, 
 To roll, majestic, in my viewless car ? 
 To raise the spirits of the earth and air 
 The stern, the dismal, or the bright and fair ? 
 Or trace the Future, with its flux of years, 
 Its strifes, its triumphs, and -its smiles and 
 
 tears ? 
 
 Or wilt thou course with me Time s ether track, 
 On his own wings to trace his pathway back, 
 And view the wondrous Past its dying throes, 
 Its short-lived pleasures, and its ceaseless woes ?" 
 
A VISION. 133 
 
 " I d see the Past/ I said ; " with strange 
 
 delight, 
 I d view the spot where Time commenced his 
 
 flight ; 
 
 I d sweep the spell of centuries away 
 Catch the first beam which lit the god of day 
 List the first hymn the forest warblers sung 
 Trace up the path of Time since Time was 
 
 young 
 
 His every record read, till he shall be 
 Lost in the cycles of Eternity." 
 
 This said, hours, days, weeks, months and years 
 
 unroll 
 
 The register of Time s swift-written scroll ; 
 Ages speed back in retrograding flight 
 The Past becomes the Present thickest night 
 Hangs round in sable gloom : I stood before 
 Time s birth, Day s morn, or Ocean s first hoarse 
 
 roar. 
 
 A voice is heard, omnific in its might 
 " LET THERE BE LIGHT !" it said and all was light ! 
 Earth s beauties, sparkling, kiss the heaven-born 
 
 rays, 
 
 And stars and angel-bands chant songs of praise : 
 Through the dark clouds of chaos quickly shine 
 Creation order harmony design 1 
 Life, and her teeming millions stand displayed 
 A week is ended, and a world is made 1 
 
 But here one spot appears most purely bright 
 The home of love the garden of delight : 
 
134 A VISION. 
 
 Sweet birth-place of Humanity ! is this 
 
 The scene which fostered earliest dreams of bliss ? 
 
 The scene where Earth her first fair off rings 
 
 spread ? 
 
 Where man, delighted, on her bounties fed ? 
 Aye, tis ! and Innocence here found a grave 
 Here Disobedience rolled its first fell wave 
 Hate, Malice, Strife and Envy here were born, 
 And here first grew the bramble and the thorn. 
 
 Time passes onward man extends his race 
 Earth marks her orbit through her wilds of space ; 
 The millions plod in rounds of vice and pride, 
 On plain and valley, hill and mountain side ; 
 Their thousand wants the teeming earth supplies ; 
 In thanklessness they grasp the varied prize, 
 Then mock Omnipotence His power deride, 
 His deluge comes they sink beneath its tide ! 
 
 One dying groan with horror fills my ears ! 
 One ocean-vested plain the earth appears, 
 And neath that plain is hid full many a cave, 
 Where Art and Nature find one common grave. 
 Dark Desolation reigns : I look Affright 
 Spreads tracts of waste before my wand ring 
 
 sight 
 
 Of watery waste a wide, wild liquid robe 
 The grave of crime the vestment of a globe ! 
 
 One barque, the safe retreat of life and rest, 
 A world of waters bears upon its breast ; 
 Alone she triumphs o er th aquatic tomb, 
 A world s inhabitants within her womb, 
 
A VISION. 185 
 
 A future world o er which Heaven s bow of love, 
 In lines of mercy smiles from depths above. 
 
 Th avenging wave recedes : Earth s plains again 
 Are peopled by the toiling sons of men ; 
 Age after age arrays its flight of years 
 Man s every act upon their page appears, 
 And crime, and pain, and misery s increase, 
 Are found to blend with virtue, love and peace. 
 
 Now deeds, unwritten, catch my watchful eye, 
 But Time advances, and I pass them by : 
 War hurls its thunders ; Earth s broad field 
 
 appears 
 
 One moving forest of contending spears, 
 Death cheers his angels loud with groan and yell : 
 But stop I not the story dire to tell, 
 Of him who conquered, or who fell below 
 The tiger-vengeance of the foeman s blow ; 
 For War but feebly treads the walks of death, 
 Compared with him who fans his poison breath : 
 Let War array in all the pomp of pride, 
 His giant-angels by thy horrent side, 
 INTEMPERANCE, and pigmies they become 
 Their every tongue, compared with thine, is dumb. 
 
 Now Fancy waves her hand before my sight ; 
 Earth disappears ; a region richly bright, 
 Superlatively lovely, grand and fair, 
 From heaven s four corners spans the depths of 
 
 air : 
 
 All that can charm the eye of man, or please 
 His sense, or yield him happiness or ease, 
 
136 A VISION. 
 
 Are here profusely scattered : Fragrance brings 
 Perfume upon the zephyr s playful wings, 
 From many a spicy grove, whose leaflets sport 
 Where feathery minstrels hold their choral court ; 
 And o er its fertile surface, rivers glide, 
 And milk and honey swell their silv ry tide, 
 And on their banks unnumber d flow rets blow, 
 Their beauties mirror d on the streams below. 
 
 " lovely spot I" my spirit inly cvied ; 
 " Such might be earth 1" a still, small voice re 
 plied ; 
 
 And as it spoke, a bright terrestrial train 
 Of men like angels course th Elysian plain. 
 
 " See st thou yon cloud ?" said Fancy, and mine 
 
 eye 
 
 Sought a dark spot which marked the Eastern sky: 
 It grew, and spread its gloomy wings of night, 
 Which might the shades of Erebus affright, 
 Until its woe-inspiring shadows fell 
 On that bright land, and, wonderful to tell, 
 Where the dark shadow threw its blackest stain, 
 A fiery river coursed the fertile plain. 
 Dark Desolation marked it, for it drew 
 The only sweets from every plant that grew, 
 And turned them into poison ; and its fumes 
 Rose on the winds, and revel d inong the tombs. 
 Man breathed the sickly odors, and a vain 
 And wild infatuation filled his brain : 
 He steeped his senses in the burning flood, 
 Then madly cried for vengeance and for blood. 
 
A VISION. 13 1 
 
 As mong the plants, the sweetest most com 
 bined 
 
 To swell the demon stream among mankind, 
 The bright, the noble, and the gen rous most 
 Were lured to join the sense-drown d victim host : 
 And first the social were induced to brave 
 The wild, enchanting, life-destroying wave. 
 
 Methinks I see the suff ring thousands now, 
 With haggard cheek, and wildly pallid brow, 
 Whose trembling reason scarcely can abide 
 The horrid stenches of the Stygian tide : 
 Methinks I see them struggling gainst the force 
 Which sweeps them onward, in its headlong 
 
 course, 
 
 To gulfs of darkest night while some appear 
 To moan their fate with many a scalding tear ; 
 On these, Delirium breathes, and, night and day, 
 Infuriate demons round their senses play ; 
 Discord unutterable fills their ears, 
 And laughing goblins mock them with their jeers. 
 Of those, deep draughts with fury fill the brain, 
 And loose the bands which hold Destruction s rein, 
 To madly weave the blood-bespotted wreath 
 Of direful Murder with the fangs of death ! 
 See trembling millions tread the margin s brink 
 Timid they stoop, one dang rous draught to drink: 
 Habit on taste its trembling tie makes fast 
 The conscience-guarded Rubicon is past ; 
 Tie after tie destroys each power to save, 
 And prematurely ope s the iusatiate s grave 1 
 
138 A VISION. 
 
 O Vault of Terror shrine of Terror s king ! 
 The drunkard s grave ! Could I the tear-drops 
 
 bring, 
 
 Drawn from Affection s eye by thy chill fear, 
 A woe-charged flood of sorrows would appear ! 
 Or could I list the orphan s cheerless cry, 
 And deep-toned anguish of the widow s sigh, 
 Which thou hast known, O, then would Earth 
 
 uustore, 
 
 From the deep treasures of its storied lore, 
 Its darkest tale of grief, whose words would rise, 
 To wake the moaning echoes of the skies, 
 While stories dire of crime and pain would be 
 Housed from their slumbers in the mighty sea ! 
 
 Now, where that cloud of darkness first was seen, 
 A star of glory rose, whose peerless sheen 
 Smiled with an angel sweetness o er the plain 
 Where drunkenness had fixed its deadly stain, 
 And rolled along its desolating wave, 
 The earth to poison and her sous enslave. 
 And as that star in brightness rose, its light 
 Dispelled the cloud which hung round Error s night; 
 Dried up the stream of Death, whose poison tide 
 The cups of sorrow, and of crime supplied ; 
 And left that land, in comfort s smiling glow, 
 With verdure crowned, and milk and honey s flow. 
 Its storms of strife were lulled ; and Peace arose 
 In angel triumphs o er her prostrate foes, 
 And sweet domestic bliss assumed her reign, 
 And Love and Joy awoke in smiles again. 
 
A VISION. 139 
 
 I looked and Fancy s wand again was reared 
 And all her bright creation disappeared ; 
 That land was lost its purifying star 
 No longer shone from ether wilds, afar 
 All, all was changed ; and strange that change 
 
 did seem, 
 As vision-painted worlds in childhood s dream. 
 
 " That land," said Fancy, "just to chaos hurled, 
 Prophetic, speaks the changes of a world ; 
 Like it, this world was lovely once, and fair, 
 Like it, twas fostered with an angel s care, > 
 Like it, its brightness faded, and its charm 
 Was lost for vice, for madness and alarm ; 
 And like it, too, twill change once more, and then 
 Love s lights will brighten in the homes of men, 
 And linger, dream-like, round the hallow d spot 
 Of quiet joy, and soul- delighting thought ! 
 Elest be that change! unmixed with grief and guile; 
 And blest the rainbow promise of its smile, 
 Which, Like the iris, with its changeful dye, 
 Bends from the earth, and centres in the sky ! 
 Blest be that harbinger of happier years ! 
 That ark of safety o er a sea of tears ! 
 Where Happiness enjoys a calm retreat, 
 When Sorrow s surges round her madly beat." 
 
 Again I looked : before my anxious eye, 
 The circling flight of years swept swiftly by ; 
 Earth and earth s scenes rolled on their changeful 
 
 round, 
 And busy life gave forth its ceaseless sound. 
 
140 A VISION. 
 
 War and Ambition bartered human blood ! 
 And Human Honor drank the purple flood ! 
 Wing d Commerce triumphed o er the briny seas, 
 And wrote her mottoes on the viewless breeze ; 
 Faction contended in the courts of strife, 
 And Schism spurned the laws of holy life : 
 Still, to each ill, INTEMP RANCE gave its store, 
 And made all evils greater than before. 
 
 And thus it was till TEMPERANCE arose, 
 In panoply of brightness, o er the foes 
 Of life s enjoyment, and her woeless chain 
 Of sympathy embraced each child of pain. 
 She rose in loveliness, a seraph-smile 
 Around her looks of kindness played the while : 
 Her victories were friendly, and her hand, 
 Strewed blessings freely o er each conquer d land, 
 And gave that bliss she could alone bestow, 
 A bliss Debauch and Crime can never know. 
 
 Still Time moves onward, and anon appears, 
 In vision bright, the roll of future years : 
 Earth in her age grew glorious to my sight, 
 In the clear lustre of Millennial light ; 
 And I twas joy her radiant form to trace ! 
 A beauteous Island in the sea of space, 
 O er which a world of bloom profusely springs, 
 To deck a footstool for the King of kings ! 
 
 But not alone the flowery plain appears, 
 In hues still brighter than in by-gone years ; 
 Blending, in loveliness, terrestrial dyes 
 With colors, uncreated, from the skies ; 
 
A VISION. 141 
 
 A bloom of mind a moral bloom is seen, 
 Which smiles, on earth, with more than earthly 
 
 sheen, 
 
 And gives a joy to man unknown before, 
 Scented with odors from a holier shore ; 
 Minds now expanded, breathe the foretaste given 
 Of sweetest fragrance from the fields of heaven ; 
 And with new tongues of seraph-power they raise 
 The loudest notes of thankfulness and praise. 
 
 blest Devotion ! now art thou divine ! 
 Circled with gems which must forever shine ; 
 Swelling the notes of harmony and love, 
 Which rise like incense to the throne above. 
 And man, the creature of the dust, is blest 
 Bliss, unalloyed, is kindled in his breast ; 
 And Peace, on dove-like pinions, hovers round 
 For Strife, with all his demon-wiles, is bound, 
 That Innocence o er man her robe may fling, 
 As pure and spotless as an angel s wing. 
 Dazzled with brightness, now my eye grew dim, 
 As Earth reflected back the lights of Him, 
 The First, the Last, the Midst, and Without 
 
 End! 
 
 Whose glories with his works forever blend. 
 Faint was my view till the last angel came, 
 And Earth was rolled up as a scroll of flame ; 
 Time yielded up his pinions with his breath, 
 And Yictory rose triumphant over Death 
 A holy pioneer, to pave the way 
 To the bright gates of uncreated day ! 
 
142 A visiox. 
 
 As time gave up his wings, my dream was o er ; 
 But ere twas done, a fair celestial shore, 
 In more than Eden-loveliness appeared, 
 On which a holy cenotaph was reared, 
 The work of angel bands, who joyed to raise 
 An ever-during monument of praise 
 " To TEMPERANCE," for so the record ran, 
 " Tlw Child of Virtue, and the Friend of Man!" 
 
 And now, the spell which bound my senses 
 
 broke 
 Earth seemed herself again, and I awoke. 
 
SONG OF THE NEW YEAR. 143 
 
 SONG OF THE NEW YEAR. 
 
 [January 1st, 1851.] 
 
 AWAY have the days of another year 
 By the angel of Time been cast, 
 To record the tale of their fleet career, 
 
 Mid the depths of the changeless Past. 
 And away, away, as the moments sped, 
 
 Fall many a hope and fear 
 Were buried in dust neath the death-fiend s 
 
 tread, 
 Ere the birth of the new-born year. 
 
 But not alone in the ma^ch of Time, 
 
 As he measured his ceaseless round, 
 Were the death of hope and the growth of crime, 
 
 And the spear of the spoiler found : 
 For joy was the gift of the gay old year, 
 
 When his days into season s grew, 
 And the flowers of Spring and the harvest s cheer 
 
 Did his garland and crown renew. 
 
144 SONG OF THE NEW YEAR. 
 
 And joy was Ms when the laughing hours 
 
 Were breathing of Love s perfume, 
 As they lingered in bliss mid the roseate bowers, 
 
 Which Affection s lights illume ; 
 And joy was his, as he chased away 
 
 Disease from the fevered brain, 
 And gave, in exchange, life s wonted play, 
 
 For the gnawing tooth of pain. 
 
 But mixed and strange is the tale of Time, 
 
 As he telleth it, page by page, 
 Melodious now, in mused rhyme, 
 
 And fearful now with rage : 
 Sometimes his words are soft and sweet 
 
 As the Zephyr s fragrant breath, 
 And sometimes thunder-toned and meet 
 
 To tell of thy triumphs, Death. 
 
 Now does he visit the Congress hall, 
 
 With a look all staid and wise, 
 And tracing his cyphers along the wall, 
 
 He frameth the " Compromise" 
 And forth he sendeth it far and wide, 
 
 And sweareth by yea and nay, 
 That by it the North and the South shall abide, 
 
 And the UNIOX shall last for aye. 
 
 But not on Senates alone looks Time, 
 
 For he circles the ends of earth, 
 From the Arctic wilds to the burning clime, 
 
 Where the Alchemist s dream hath birth ; 
 
SONG OF THE NEW YEAR. 145 
 
 He looks on the delver s toil-marked hands, 
 
 As by Sacramento s wave 
 They are plied full well, mid the glittering sands 
 
 To dig out a golden grave. 
 
 Again he looks on a martial band ; 
 
 And the fiery sons of Mars 
 Are away o er the deep ; for their chiefs have 
 planned 
 
 That the spangled Banner of Stars 
 Shall invite to its folds, with shot and song, 
 
 The " Gem of the Antilles," 
 While Freedom s voice shall the shout prolong 
 
 In the swell of the Carib seas. 
 
 Another sound ! and the gay old Time 
 
 Half ceaseth his onward march ; 
 For melodious whispers, which seem divine, 
 
 Ascend on a heavenly arch 
 To greet his ear with a blissful strain 
 
 Of mercy and mdody 
 A blessed, beautiful, angel twain, 
 
 By the " Swedish bird " set free. 
 
 ****** 
 ****** 
 
146 IMPROMPTU. 
 
 IMPROMPTU. 
 
 [Written on the banks of the Ohio when a financial panic 
 was agitating the whole country.] 
 
 T STOOD upon a river s bank, 
 
 Beneath the white-armed pride 
 Of ladies ? no of lofty sycamores ; 
 And as I stood upon that bank in lonely grief, I 
 
 cried, 
 A laughing echo to my lay, " the lank has broke " 
 
 replied, 
 " And fortune has locked up her golden doors." 
 
I REMEMBER THEE. 147 
 
 I REMEMBER, THEE. 
 
 TO 
 
 ~T"TT~HEN the morning sun, with a silver tread, 
 V V Ascends in the East from his ocean-bed, 
 When light and joy from the presence spring 
 Of that mystic orb, which Creation s King 
 Has placed in his hall of clouds to sway 
 The seasons of earth with supernal ray, 
 And sunshine smiles on the land and sea, 
 Then, then, O then, I remember thee ! 
 
 When the midday comes, and the noontide beam, 
 Plays in joyous glee over wave and stream, 
 And the lowly vale and the mountain glade 
 Are in vestments of love and of light arrayed ; 
 Then, then, mid the glory of midday sheen, 
 In the true and the beautiful thou art seen ; 
 When I look on the fair, and the pure and free, 
 O then, O then, I remember thee ! 
 
 When the eve appears and the daylight hies 
 To his rosy couch in the Western skies, 
 And the starry gems in " the blue " are seen, 
 As the jewel d path of Night s silv ry queen, 
 
148 I REMEMBER THEE. 
 
 then, when the song of the grove is still, 
 And the music alone of the trickling rill 
 Is heard as it steals through the quiet lea, 
 
 1 remember thee, I remember thee ! 
 
 When the visions of night burst on my brain 
 With the wild delights of a fairy train ; 
 When an eye which can make niy soul rejoice, 
 And the melting tones of a seraph voice 
 Are seen and heard, and so much like thine, 
 That a phantom form, like to thee, divine, 
 Appears, an angel of purity, 
 To claim them, then, I remember thee ! 
 
LINES. 149 
 
 LINES. 
 
 [To the memory of the Rev. D. A. Eraser, A. M., who died 
 at St. John s, Newfoundland, in February, 1845.] 
 
 HE S passed away to where "the weary rest," 
 , The frozen clod lies coldly o er his breast; 
 Vacant is now the place he once supplied, 
 As husband, father, pastor, friend and guide. 
 
 He s passed away the sacred desk no more 
 Shall echo to his teachings as before ; 
 No more he ll train for heaven s bright courts above, 
 His weeping charge, the children of his love. 
 
 He s passed from earth, for evermore to be 
 Decked in the robes of immortality ; 
 Still for his flock full many a hallow d deed 
 In odor-sweets from golden censers plead. 
 
 He s passed away his soul-directing light 
 Has set within the tomb s unconscious night ; 
 He s passed to realms by saints and angels trod 
 Passed from the footstool of the throne of God. 
 
150 LINES. 
 
 LINES. 
 
 H 
 
 TO 
 
 OW sweet is Friendship s angel breath, 
 
 Perfumed by flowers of living love ; 
 How fair its ever-during wreath, 
 
 Plucked in Affection s scented grove ; 
 How deep the dream of priceless worth 
 To which they e er the soul incline 
 That breath, that wreath, of all on earth, arc 
 
 yours, 
 And 0, that dream is mine ! 
 
^INES. 151 
 
 LINES. 
 
 [Addressed to a traveling companion when separating from 
 him in Kentucky in the year 184-] 
 
 ABOVE the broad Ohio s limpid stream, 
 On banks which kiss the morning s misty 
 
 cloud 
 
 We sit, with tearful eye and anxious ear 
 To list the tolling bell and heaving sweep 
 Which speak the lab ring steamer, as adown 
 To Southern markets, laden with the hopes 
 And various produce of these Western wilds 
 She onward moves. 
 
 We sit, we list, we weep to-day we part 
 To breast alone the ocean-waves of care. 
 Eocked in the storm-tost cradle of the past 
 We ve dreamed together a fond morning dream, 
 While Hope still spread out its delusive chart 
 To point the hills of Fame, whose mystic front 
 Rose up in golden grandeur, and enlarged 
 By Fancy s wild and dreamy telescope, 
 Immortal seemed. 
 
 But now our dreams are o er, and Memory 
 Becomes the sepulchre, from which alone 
 
152 LINES. 
 
 The shadowy ghosts of our departed hopes 
 
 Will rise, commingled with the scenes and thoughts 
 
 And fairy palaces which Fancy built 
 
 Upon the airy heights and changing sands 
 
 Of that wild Isthmus which alone connects 
 
 " The Past and Future two Eternities" 
 
 And rolls the Present back upon the Past. 
 
 We ve met, and now we part to meet again ! 
 But whether on the treacherous shores of Time, 
 Or in the regions of a world unknown 
 We cannot tell : but yet, not Lethe s stream, 
 Nor time, nor care, nor dark disease, nor death 
 Shall blot remembrance from the cherished page 
 Of thoughts, the record of the things that were. 
 
 Bright be tby scenes in future life thy path 
 With rich perfumes of innocence and peace 
 Be rendered pleasant ! And may angels guard 
 Thee and the fair one plighted to be thine ! 
 
THE GREEK SLAVE. 153 
 
 THE GREEK SLATE. 
 
 [The following lines were written on looking at that cele- 
 Jbrated piece of Statuary in which Powers has combined the 
 perfection of human shape with the emotions of a captive 
 maid exposed for sale in a Turkish Slave Market. " The 
 cross and locket seen in the folds of her drapery show her 
 to be a Christian and beloved."] 
 
 TORN from the charms of home, a slave she 
 stands, 
 
 And nude, to charm the Moslem s lustful eye ; 
 Fair as the fairest of the Houri bands 
 That breathe delight in his Elysian sky. 
 
 Alone she stands, and with averted glance : 
 Her gentle thoughts go back to other days, 
 
 And kindle in her soul a holy trance, 
 Pure as the light from uncreated rays. 
 
 The Turk appears he seeks a youthful fair, 
 His passion s treasure and perfection s prize ; 
 
 But all subdued by virtue s peerless air, 
 Worship, not passion, kindles in his eyes. 
 
154 THE GREEK SLAVE, 
 
 That youthful maiden s half disdainful glance 
 That meek imploring look, that modest charm, 
 
 That Christian calmness check the rude advance, 
 And save the maiden from impending harm. 
 
 Beauty has triumphed there, for Virtue s soul 
 Has cast its charm o er that expressive face, 
 
 "While Genius lent its spirit s high control, 
 To mould the shield of a protective grace. 
 
0, THINK NOT THAT I DO NOT FEEL ! 155 
 
 0, THINK NOT THAT I DO NOT FEEL ! 
 
 [In the spring of 18 , a brother of the author s was 
 drowned in Wallace River. Nova Scotia, leaving a beloved 
 wife and one child, a little girl about eight years old. After 
 the accident it was observed that the child did not cry, and 
 her mother, half chidingly, asked her the reason. Her 
 answer was, " I feel as much as any of you can feel, and yet 
 1 cannot en//"] 
 
 O THINK not that I do not feel 
 Because I cannot cry ! 
 There is a grief which may congeal 
 
 The moisture of the eye ; 
 A grief so deep that it can chill 
 
 The fountains of the soul, 
 And freeze the gushings of that rill 
 Which laves life s golden bowl. 
 
 I feel that there was once a smile 
 
 For me, which is no more, 
 And fairy visions nurst the while, 
 
 Which visions now are o er 1 
 I feel that there was once a hand 
 
 To clasp me to a breast, 
 Now, cold and lifeless, in that land 
 
 Where all the weary rest. 
 
156 0, THINK NOT THAT I DO NOT FEEL ! 
 
 I feel that oh ! too much I feel ! 
 
 And tears would bring relief, 
 For every trickling sphere would steal 
 
 A portion of my grief. 
 Though tearless, think not I the less 
 
 Do feel the weight of gloom, 
 For Sorrow, with its rude caress, 
 
 Hath made my heart its tomb ! 
 
NOTHING TO EAT. 
 
 NOTHING TO EAT. 
 
 NOTHING- to eat I tis the wailing cry 
 That starvelings utter in deep despair, 
 When they stretch themselves in pain to die, 
 
 All lost to hope ; too weak for prayer. 
 Nothing to eat ! the chainless mind 
 In famine becomes confused and blind ; 
 A thousand phantoms before it rise, 
 Mocking it still with taunting cries ; 
 Luring it off where the demons reign ; 
 Every change is a change of pain ; 
 Still in its madness it will repeat 
 Nothing to eat ! Nothing to eat ! 
 
 Who will tell us of "Nothing to Wear" 
 The gilded falsehood of Fashion s queen 
 
 Of " Nothing to do " " to say " " to spare "- 
 They re all as naught to the cry, I ween, 
 
 Which starving ones in their pain repeat 
 
 Nothing to eat ! Nothing to eat ! 
 
 In a lonely garret a mother lies : 
 Draw near, and look at those fearful eyes 
 They were Beauty s once ! Those lips so pale 
 And those sunken cheeks tell a mournful tale 
 
158 NOTHING TO EAT. 
 
 Of the change which hunger aud care can bring 
 When they prey on the fair with united sting. 
 That starving mother and starving child ! 
 They are dying now how strange and wild 
 Are their every look ! Bring bread and wine ! 
 Come, lonely mother, arouse and dine ! 
 Ah ! they re brought too late from the board of 
 
 wealth 
 
 To bring back that mother to hope and health ! 
 Though she seems to feast with her fearful eyes ; 
 
 As if she fain would again be strong ; 
 That bread and wine are a tempting prize 
 
 To one with nothing to eat so loug. 
 
 Alone a maiden is on the street, 
 
 A poor, a friendless, a homeless one : 
 
 The freezing wind and blinding sleet 
 Career like anger at set of sun. 
 
 Where shall she go ? Ah ! who can tell ? 
 
 Hunger and pride in her thoughts rebel. 
 
 How hard it is to restrain her pride 
 
 How hard to ask and to be denied ! 
 
 Thousands around her have wealth untold, 
 
 Treasures of silver and treasures of gold, 
 
 While thousands like her have nothing to eat, 
 
 Starving in garrets or on the street. 
 
 The rich pass on without thought or care, 
 
 And if alms are asked they ve nothing to spare : 
 
 They can spare to folly, can spare to pride, 
 
 Can spare to fashion, but woe betide 
 
NOTHING TO EAT. 159 
 
 The hungry beings who dare entreat, 
 Because, forsooth, they ve nothing to eat. 
 So the rich pass on to some gilded show, 
 They ve nothing to spare to the poor and low. 
 
 Alone a maiden is on the street, 
 
 A poor, a friendless, a homeless one ; 
 In the freezing wind and the blinding sleet, 
 
 She asks herself what shall be done ? 
 With beauty and virtue her only store ; 
 
 She ponders of them as she treads alone 
 From street to street, and from door to door : 
 
 She has " asked for bread and received a stone." 
 What shall be done ? What shall be done ? 
 Ah ! poor and lonely and friendless one ! 
 Shall we judge thee harshly when hunger pleads, 
 
 And hope has proved a deceitful tale, 
 If thy answer be given in evil deeds, 
 
 When evil deeds can alone avail ? 
 
 Come, stately queen of the marble hall, 
 Pride of a " circle," belle of the ball 
 A stranger to even a single care, 
 With costly raiment and jewels rare, 
 And more than enough to eat and weai% 
 Thou must have a tender heart indeed ; 
 
 An open hand when the hungry call ; 
 A willing ear when the helpless plead, 
 
 And love for thy fellow creatures all. 
 Yet why didst thou spurn from thy marble hall 
 
160 NOTHING TO EAT. 
 
 The starving maiden that asked for bread ? 
 That act of thine was a deed of thrall ; 
 
 It ended hope and to ruin led ! 
 To whom should a maid in distress appeal, 
 If a sister s heart prove hard as steel 
 If a sister s voice can bid her go, 
 All reckless of ruin or woman s woe, 
 And call her unjustly in words of shame, 
 A thing of evil too vile to name ? 
 
 Ah ! when thus branded and coldly spurned, 
 Is it strange that the maiden in madness turned, 
 Asa last resource to the vile and rude, 
 And bartered her virtue her all for food ? 
 
 Come, stately queen of the marble hall, 
 
 If angels are glad when the vile reform, 
 Should st thou take part in a sister s fall 
 
 By driving her forth in a night of storm ? 
 Remember that thousands as fair, as proud, 
 And as pure as thou, have weakly bowed, 
 Like erring frailties, at Passion s shrine 
 Have tasted its manna and drunk its wine, 
 With no excuse but a wanton will 
 
 To lead them in error s corrupting way ; 
 They yield, but, in yielding, make efforts still 
 
 To hide their deeds from the light of day. 
 
 Nothing to eat ! tis the fearful cry 
 
 Of wild, united, half frantic men 
 Who throng the streets. The sound swells high 
 
 Nothing to eat ! again ! again ! 
 
NOTHING TO EAT. 161 
 
 What means it ? These are the men of toil 
 Why do they riot and cry for spoil ? 
 Why do they batter the storehouse down, 
 And scatter abroad through the hungry town 
 The unbought food which in frantic might 
 They wrest by force, without thought of right ? 
 It is that Toil is no more repaid 
 By perishing food in the marts of trade ; 
 That men are starving ; that children moan ; 
 That hunger is stronger than walls of stone. 
 They are starving fathers who throng the street ; 
 Their wives and children have nothing to eat ! 
 
 Nothing to eat ! tis the burning thought 
 
 Of shipwrecked men on the ocean wave ; 
 Their foundered vessel the depths has sought, 
 
 And still around them the waters rave. 
 A crazy raft is their sole support ; 
 
 Hunger increases as hope decays ; 
 The gull sweeps round them as if in sport, 
 
 And nearer and nearer the dolphin plays. 
 
 Thus has it been for days and days : 
 Their cheeks are sunken, their eyes are wild, 
 
 Relief is distant, and famine preys 
 With increasing pang. Ah ! one has smiled 
 For him the sorrows of life are past ; 
 The wail of the sea, the sigh of the blast, 
 No more are heard. His nerves no more 
 Shrink back in torture. A fairer shore 
 
162 NOTHING TO EAT. 
 
 Than earth can boast, like a dream, is spread 
 In the airy realms where the seraphs tread. 
 Oh ! it were bliss on such shores to stray, 
 And angels whisper " Away ! away I" 
 
 Another mutters of nothing to eat, 
 
 And stares at his fellows with wolfish eyes : 
 
 His thoughts are fiends, which would fain entreat 
 For human flesh when a comrade dies. 
 
 He curses himself his God. He raves 
 
 At the warring winds and the warring waves ; 
 
 He curses his fellows, as if they viewed 
 
 In him a beast, to be slain for food ; 
 
 Then leaps in the flood, like a demon grim, 
 
 And swears none ever shall feast on him. 
 
 More calmly others await their doom, 
 
 Though every day makes their number less : 
 A moment seems like an age of gloom, 
 
 With such surroundings, in such distress. 
 At length a hurricane sweeps the main : 
 
 They sink ; but still in their thoughts repeat 
 The echoes lone of that sad refrain 
 
 " Nothing to eat ! Nothing to eat !" 
 
 NEW ORLEANS, October, 18 j 7. 
 
THE WAYS OF .CHRISTENDOM, 163 
 
 THE WAYS- OF CHRISTENDOM. 
 
 A translation from the Japanese of Kram Yengib. 
 
 [Our readers will remember that a few natives of Japan 
 were brought to this country by the Japan expedition sent 
 out some years since by the United States Government. 
 One of them, Kram Yengib, has since returned to his native 
 land and published a satirical poem on the Church, the Go 
 vernment, and the social condition of Christendom. The 
 following is a translation :] 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 me, O, my lovely native isle, 
 JD Fair Crescent gem set in the em rald sea,* 
 For I have wandered out beyond thy smile, 
 
 And would return, a suppliant, to thee : 
 Forgive me, if thou can st, arid I shall be 
 
 No more an exile in barbaric lands, 
 
 *Nipon,the principal island of Japan, the birthplace of 
 Yengib, is semi-lunar in shape, and as the sea around it is 
 shallow, its color of course is green. The sea is blue only 
 where its depth is very great. 
 
164 THE WAYS OF CHRISTENDOM. 
 
 Where warring Christians ever disagree, 
 
 And Might the majesty of Right withstands, 
 And Wealth exemption claims from Law s most 
 stern commands. 
 
 My crime was great a wish to wander forth 
 
 "My punishment is more than I can bear :" 
 From the far West unto the frozen North 
 
 I ve passed a dreary pilgrimage to share 
 "With Christian dogs in their unholy fare 
 
 Of bullock s flesh, and other vile compounds ; 
 To witness villanies twere sin to spare, 
 
 And listen to those senseless, soulless sounds 
 That Christians worship call a worship which 
 confounds. 
 
 But I will sing of all that I have seen, 
 So that no more a heav n blessed Japanese 
 
 May wish to wander forth where I have been, 
 And tempt the fury of accursed seas 
 With sinful hopes of happiness and ease 
 
 Hopes, baseless, as they stretch beyond the isles 
 Protected by our prophet s high decrees 
 
 Who can expect Religion s holy smiles 
 
 When wandering over lands which Christian faith 
 defiles ? 
 
THE WAYS OF CHRISTENDOM. 165 
 
 I. 
 THE CHURCH. 
 
 First, of the Church. Great Buddha ! now inspire 
 My pen of steel with true poetic fire, 
 So that it may with faithful skill reveal 
 The monster curse, which on the public weal 
 Weighs like an incubus assuming still 
 A thousand shapes to work its ends of ill. 
 The Church 1 Religion ! these are magic words, 
 Li Christian mouths, and forth they fly, as birds, 
 Blue-winged and bound to heaven but in their 
 
 train 
 Are raven-croakings and the lust of gain ! 
 
 All from one Book their various teachings draw, 
 And all acknowledge the same moral law ; 
 Yet, in their creeds they strangely disagree, 
 And as they bend in prayer the pliant knee, 
 A curse is hurled at each opposing creed, 
 And Vengeance vows that heretics should bleed. 
 
 o 
 
 Of leading tenets, held as orthodox, 
 Some we may mention as the sacred rocks 
 On which the creeds of Christendom are based : 
 These are one God, or three in one embraced ; 
 One Devil, with a countless demon-train ; 
 Immortal life which may prove loss or gain ; 
 
166 THE WAYS OF CHRISTENDOM. 
 
 The eating of an apple from a tree, 
 And its result complete depravity ; 
 One Heaven, the refuge of a chosen few ; 
 One Hell, the birthright of that damned crew, 
 The many, who must writhe for endless ages 
 In burning sulphur lakes, predestined wages 
 For being " born in sin " without their knowledge, 
 And for neglecting to attend the college 
 Where Grace imparts its lessons of repentance, 
 Which can alone avert the " dreadful sentence." 
 
 On these foundation stones strange structures 
 
 rise, 
 
 Whose spires are pointing proudly to the skies ; 
 Each one proclaims itself the only " true," 
 And vainly boasts "I m holier than you 1" 
 While all alike are bound by Error s chains, 
 Whose rust corrosive Truth s fair vestment stains. 
 
 That the meek Founder of the Christian plan 
 Gave moral teachings as the guide of man, 
 Can never be denied. He taught that Love 
 Was the great lever to raise men above 
 The grovelings of earth ; that wealth should be 
 Despised as filthy dross ; that man should flee 
 Temptation s luring paths ; that human pride 
 To sorrow and destruction was allied ; 
 That hatred was accursed, and that "to do 
 To others as you d have them do to you," 
 Was the great law of life. 
 
THE WAYS OF CHRISTENDOM. 1 6*1 
 
 Such simple rules 
 
 Too high for men ; too holy for the schools 
 (Unlike our Buddha s easier commands,) 
 Have spread hypocrisy o er Christian lands ; 
 And now that " leaven of the Pharisees" 
 Remains, the putrid and corrupting lees 
 Of the " new wine " which promised peace and 
 
 heaven, 
 And which, that all might drink and live, was 
 
 given. 
 
 Thus Christian rights became an empty show, 
 And Christian deeds the deeds of foe to foe ; 
 Sect hating sect, prays for each others fall, 
 Till rivalry and envy rule in all. 
 
 Priests are employed to have the care of souls, 
 Just as the sexton is employed, who tolls 
 The sinner-calling bell. They preach for gold ; 
 Their services, like merchant s wares, are sold. 
 On sumptuous fare they live, and solemn pride 
 They wrap around them, as a cloak, to hide 
 Their grosser failings. Are these, then, the guides 
 Whom a just heaven, or yellow dust provides ? 
 Are these the teachers who take up the cross . 
 Who look on wealth as worse than filthy dross 
 Who, without purse or scrip, or ordered plan, 
 Go forth to " preach glad tidings " unto man ? 
 Are these the kind, the humble and the pure, 
 Who would contempt and buffetings endure, 
 
168 THE WAYS OF CHRISTENDOM. 
 
 All for their Master s sake ? Are these the meek 
 Who, if opposed and smitten on one cheek, 
 Would turn the other also ? Seek the fane 
 Whose gilded turrets point to heaven in vain ; 
 Mark its rich trappings and its cushioned pews 
 Where wealthy Christians meet at times to muse 
 On business and exchange the ways of trade 
 How bubbles float how millionaires are made 
 How queenly beauties make so grand a show 
 How in some eyes such witching glances glow 
 How love is nursed while not a thought is given 
 To laying up fair treasure stores in Heaven, 
 Where thieves can ne er approach. Let priests 
 
 attend 
 
 To all such ghostly business, and befriend 
 Their paying patrons ! They the brokers are 
 Betwixt the seen and unseen near and far 
 And for cash paid in hand, a goodly/sum, 
 They sell exchange upon " the world to come!" 
 
 Thus do the priests of faith " make merchan 
 dise," 
 
 Till worldly wealth and power become their prize ; 
 Each creed has its anointed devotees, 
 Who feast on fatness, and in honored ease 
 Make proud, presumptuous prayers. To Him on 
 
 high 
 
 They talk as to some equal in the sky ; 
 They tell Him what to bless and what to spurn 
 " We bless thee, Lord, now bless us in return 1" 
 
THE WAYS OF CHRISTENDOM. 169 
 
 This is their orison; Some dare pretend 
 That the decrees of highest Heaven will bend 
 At their request ; that they can loose or bind, 
 In earth or Heaven, as they may feel inclined 
 Absolve from sin, and give to lust free reign 
 By kind " indulgence," when it yields them gain. 
 Others grow rich on tithes Lord Bishops they 
 Their word is law, and laymen must obey. 
 With princely * livings " power in Church and 
 
 State- 
 E en among great ones they are doubly great, 
 Thousands must toil, must starve, perchance, to 
 
 swell 
 
 Their golden treasures ; and if one rebel, 
 The willing bailiff and the jailer stern 
 Force him with due submission to return, 
 And ask admittance to the sacred fold 
 With that sure passport penitential gold ! 
 Others again, make faith a blind belief 
 In effete forms and visages of grief ; 
 While others still on holy works depend, 
 As if they could by " filthy rags "* ascend 
 The highest heav n, and claim an honor d seat 
 Where but " the pure in heart " their God can 
 
 meet. 
 
 Thus all have forged their fetters for the mind, 
 And proved themselves blind leaders of the blind ; 
 
 * " And all our righteousness is as filthy rags." Scripture. 
 
170 THE WAYS OF CHRISTENDOM. 
 
 Creed fights with creed, as crime contends with 
 
 crime, 
 
 And each the other sullies o er with grime. 
 Church speaks to church, but each conflicting call 
 Awakes the echoes of some prison wall ; 
 Nor is it strange that wild, commingled cry 
 For crimes and creeds together multiply. 
 These contradictious among Christian creeds 
 Have fostered unbelief and evil deeds. 
 Faith ne er can be content with empty forms, 
 Hope s pinions fail mid theologic storms, 
 And soaring souls, to Deity allied, 
 Can ne er, like swine, with husks be satisfied. 
 
 And so poor Christians Christians but in name, 
 Have lost in sects their singleness of aim : 
 Some seek amid the wiles of unbelief, 
 For present comfort infidel to grief, 
 And pain, and joy, and all beyond the grave 
 They bid defiance to the Stygian wave. 
 Others espouse new-fangled heresies, 
 Invent new prophecies, and new decrees, 
 And, like a prairie-fire, their doctrines spread, 
 For fools will follow where deceivers tread. 
 Thus Mormonism took its lustful rise, 
 And newer isms, fresh showered from the skies 
 By disembodied sprites, who come to rave 
 Of those strange lands which lie beyond the grave. 
 The Mormons have their prophets and their wives ; 
 They sow licentiousness, a plant which thrives 
 
THE WAYS OF CHRISTENDOM. 171 
 
 In the rank soil which human hearts afford, 
 And yields a fruit by rascal "saints" adored. 
 But spirit-isms take a far wider range, 
 Pass through supernal lands in search of change ; 
 Seek out fair beauties of celestial mould, 
 Where spirit-spheres their spirit-fruits unfold 
 Thrill with celestial love ; and still, aspire 
 To something fairer, purer, grander, higher ! 
 Yet while these isms so wonderfully climb, 
 Like spirit- felons, into spheres sublime, 
 Their grand interpreters in earthly schools 
 Are dancing tables, animated stools, 
 And cupboards which can syllable by raps 
 The history of marvelous mishaps, 
 And tell the wonders of the heavenly host 
 Through the obsession of some gossip-ghost. 
 
 Compared with these, how pure the Buddhist 
 
 creed 
 
 So kindly suited to the sinner s need : 
 All who prove false should straight be sent to 
 
 dwell 
 Amid the tortures of the Christian s hell. 
 
172 THE WAYS OF CHRISTENDOM. 
 
 II. 
 GOVERN M EXT. 
 
 IN Christian lands all government is fraud 
 The toiling millions have to kiss the rod ; 
 And while they clap their hands and shout, 
 
 " we re free !" 
 
 Their limbs are galled by chains and slavery. 
 To him that hath is given. The great take all 
 While the poor wretch must starve, or humbly 
 
 crawl, 
 
 After his strength is wasted, to the grave, 
 With none to pity him and none to save. 
 Grand are the titles by which rulers reign 
 Dark are the deeds by which their souls they stain. 
 Kings, Emperors forsooth ! bend low the knee, 
 And homage yield to titled lechery ! 
 Might robes itself in purple, and the sword 
 Leaps from its scabbard if a royal word 
 Of vengefulness is uttered. Minions come 1 
 Let the loud trump be sounded ; beat the drum ; 
 While the great cannon thunders to the sky : 
 Europe, thy balance bends beneath a fly ! 
 
 Thus Christian wars arise, and " peace on earth 77 
 Is mocked at and profaned by " men of birth. 77 
 Let the base millions bleed and bleeding fight 
 For "right divine 77 has wrongs which it must 
 
 ritfit, 
 
THE WAYS OF CHRISTENDOM. 173 
 
 And rights which are but human must give way 
 That rights divine can have unquestioned sway I 
 
 0, it doth pain me to the soul, to see 
 The vassalage of men who should be free. 
 " Outside barbarians " though they are, their 
 
 wrongs 
 
 Speak to my judgment, as with cloven tongues 
 From which the blood is dropping. Let me 
 
 grieve, 
 For I must pity though I can t relieve. 
 
 " Ours is a land of laws" these Christians cry, 
 And that it is, the bard will not deny. 
 But oh, such laws ! Confused, conflicting, vain, 
 As the wild flights of a distempered brain, 
 Where "rotton burroughs" taint the moral air 
 And party-bribes for party-spoils prepare. 
 The mushroom legislator grossly thrives, 
 And claims control of property and lives. 
 By fraud elected, what but fraud should be 
 The groundwork of his partial polity ? 
 He meets his fellows " honorable men," 
 For such they humbly style themselves and then 
 In Parliament assembled, laws they frame 
 To tax the toiler and th unruly tame. 
 A fiction of these laws makes all men stand 
 Before them equal brothers hand in hand 
 But stern experience gives damning proof 
 That partial justice flies the poor man s roof 
 To wanton in a palace. Laws which change 
 With each revolving year must e er be strange 
 
114 THE -WAYS OF CHRISTENDOM. 
 
 Unto the toiling millions who must bow 
 As does the ox, when harnessed to the plow. 
 Hence lawyers must be feed to make that plain, 
 Which should be plain without them. Sweat of 
 
 brain 
 
 They give for gold, and guilt or purity 
 Is all the same to them : Who pays goes free. 
 
 This, of a land whose fame is fairest held 
 Among these Christian spoilers. Now impelled 
 By curious quest we ll cross the sounding sea 
 To that great Western " land of liberty " 
 That land of prairies wide and flowing streams, 
 Whose virgin soil with varied produce teems. 
 Columbia, hail ! On thee, heaven faintly smiles, 
 As if a gleam from our celestial isles 
 Had wandered off, and sought thy distant shore, 
 There to abide and brighten evermore. 
 But e en Columbia, as a Christian land, 
 Is curst by Christian guile. Would that the 
 
 hand 
 
 Of Buddha might on its fair fields be laid, 
 So they might rest beneath his sacred shade ! j 
 In theory its government is pure ; 
 In practice tis corrupt. There is no cure 
 For the gross ulcers which mine all within, 
 Filling the land with avarice and sin. 
 Free, universal suffrage is proclaimed, 
 That guilt may triumph and the truth be shamed. 
 The pot-house plotters meet in caucus vile 
 To lay their plans of selfishness and guile. 
 
THE WAYS OF CHRISTENDOM. 175 
 
 " Intrigue and bargain !" these the lusty twain 
 By which they triumph and by which they stain 
 The sacred robe of justice, which should be 
 Pure as the pearls which slumber neath the sea. 
 Elections are a fraud. The public voice 
 Is cheated and deluded in its choice, 
 And where the best and wisest should be first, 
 Election takes the wickedest and worst. 
 The bribe-bought ballot gives the right to rule, 
 Though cast by grossest knave or dullest fool 
 And fools and knaves, it must be understood, 
 Outnumber, ten to one, the wise and good. 
 
 Thus Christian statesmen their republics frame ; 
 They manage them as gamblers do their game, 
 Making the knave a trump, and by their deal 
 Contrive, in seeming honesty, to steal. 
 The Press with them becomes a servile thing, 
 That puffs for pay, and makes its plaudits ring 
 For party candidates. What s black or white, 
 To those who under party trammels write ? 
 The Bar s alike depraved. 0, draw not nigh 
 To where blind justice holds her balance high, 
 For though your cause may be as pure as heav n, 
 You may be sure twill be against you giv n. 
 False witnesses are purchasable things ; 
 And the paid pleader who against you brings 
 His score of such is sure of his reward ; 
 Against his shafts no honesty can guard. 
 Then the packed juror, with his bribe in hand : 
 None can his guilty agency withstand, 
 
176 THE WAYS OF CHRISTENDOM. ~ 
 
 For ready to obey the legal beck, 
 He coolly holds eleven peers in check, 
 Making a farce of all the forms of law 
 That guilt, its coveted rewards, may draw. 
 
 Oh, blessed Buddha ! that thou may st forgive 
 The \vand ring bard, who scarce deserves to live, 
 I of those fierce barbarian-Christians write, 
 That ne er again from liberty and light 
 A Japanese may stray ! Let full content 
 O er our celestial realm be kindly sent, 
 And where barbaric splendors would allure, 
 Let Christian guilt become a speedy cure. 
 
 III. 
 SOCIAL CONDITION OF CHRISTENDOM. 
 
 IN Christian lands falsehood s the only truth, 
 Deceit sits throned e en on the brow of youth, 
 Masking pretention with its smooth disguise, 
 And making love with simulated sighs. 
 Fashion and folly rule the giddy throng 
 With gilded shows ; and e en the poet s song, 
 Which should be high as heaven, finds its low rhyme 
 In vulgar teachings and ignoble crime. 
 Woman s a plaything, passionate, depraved, 
 By need, and greed, and vanity enslaved ; 
 
THE WAYS OF CHRISTENDOM. 177 
 
 While man, the Christian, filled with demon guile, 
 Still plays the fiend and murders with a smile. 
 
 Forgive me, Buddah, great, eterne, supreme I 
 I sing of things, strange as a troubled dream ; 
 Of human beings in a form divine, 
 Who crawl like serpents through corruption s slime, 
 And then their boasted purity proclaim, 
 Deaf to rebuke ; insensible to shame ! 
 
 From regal halls where courtly Fashion reigns, 
 To the low dens where fear alone restrains, 
 There are degrees in form but not in deed ; 
 The same dark fruit springs from the same vile sed. 
 In circles which are called " select " and " high/ 7 
 Honor s a bawd and courtesy a lie, 
 And rules akin in grosser forms prevail 
 Through lower levels of the social scale. 
 
 Call Friendship on the stage. Its warmest glow 
 Chills neath misfortune into Alpine snow. 
 To purple and fine linen it may bow ; 
 Castles of Indolence it may endow, 
 But from " chill penury " it stands aloof, 
 And still denies the shelter of its roof. 
 The flash of diamonds and the gleam of gold 
 May rouse its envy, but they still will mould 
 Its outward show the letter of its grace 
 Though of its spirit they retain no trace. 
 
 Call up the man of trade. Deceptive wares, 
 Adulterated drinks, and hidden snares 
 In every form of fabric, test the skill 
 Of Christian genius in its love of ill. 
 
178 THE WAYS OF CHRISTENDOM. 
 
 The wooden nutmeg and the oaken ham* 
 Are only grosser forms of that great sham, 
 Which palms off tinsel for true cloth of gold, 
 And makes the coward master of the bold. 
 Commerce its bubbles hath, its flying kites, 
 Its men of straw, that swagger forth as knights 
 And merchant princes mockeries sublime 
 Which touch the hollow tympanum of time. 
 
 In social converse the same rule obtains ; 
 Deception hides, as best it can, the stains 
 Which mark the inner life. From " not at home," 
 A fetty falsehood, light as airy foam 
 To the vile depths, where honor shrinks, aghast, 
 And all the barriers of truth are passed, 
 The way is strewn by arts of false pretense 
 Which bid all honesty and virtue hence I 
 
 Let Love come in the list. Can it redeem 
 The darker features of the poet s theme ? 
 Can its great truths o ershadow the deceit 
 Which turns to bitterness what should be sweet ? 
 Not in these Christian lands, where hearts are sold, 
 Where an " establishment " and hoarded gold 
 Outweigh affection. Not where solemn vows 
 Are held as light as air, and but arouse 
 A wanton spirit ; making young desire 
 The very nurse of an unhallowed fire. 
 
 * It is confidently stated that in one of the Christian 
 States deception is carried to such an extent that spurious 
 hams, nutmegs, and other articles of a like character, are 
 manufactured of wood. 
 
THE WAYS OF CHRISTENDOM. 1T9 
 
 The Christian s love is passion s unchecked course, 
 Or that base barter, where affection s force 
 Is lost in selfish aims. There is no truth 
 Where love is not ; no fond prophetic youth ; 
 But in their stead cold calculations rise 
 And truest wisdom seems the most unwise. 
 
 Buddah, supreme ! I bow before thy throne. 
 A wanderer returned, I humbly own 
 The folly of my course. To thy strong arm 
 My weakness owes its strength. Still free from harm 
 I mingled with barbarians, fierce and wild, 
 And touched their pitch, but still, was not defiled. 
 In adoration meek, I bow the knee, 
 And cry Japan, Buddha, and Liberty ! 
 
180 
 
 MY BROTHERS GRAVES. 
 
 [Written at the request of a lady whose two brothers died 
 of injuries received on the battle-fields of Mexico.] 
 
 M 
 
 Y brothers graves ! my brothers graves 
 
 Dear spots where lov d ones rest ; 
 Where sunshine smiles and verdure waves, 
 
 And where the song-bird s nest 
 Is built among the flowers which cheer 
 The lengthened summer of the year. 
 
 Though from each other distant far, 
 
 And distant far from me, 
 I oft times speed in fancy s car 
 
 These hallowed spots to see 
 To feel " the joy of grief," and weep 
 O er the green hillocks where they sleep. 
 
 Too early lost I In glory s race 
 
 They sought the battle plain, 
 And early found, in death s embrace, 
 
 A balm for every pain : 
 One fell beneath Jalapa s sky, 
 The other sought his home to die. 
 
MY BROTHERS GRAVES. 181 
 
 And both are gone the kind, the good, 
 
 The loving and the brave, 
 And still at noon the waving wood 
 
 Casts shadows o er each grave, 
 And the blue sky looks calmly on, 
 Nor seems to weep that they are gone. 
 
 And why should I ? a world of care, 
 
 Perchance, a world of woe, 
 If living, they would have to share, 
 
 Which, dead, they cannot know. 
 These truant tears of mine I ll dry 
 My brothers live with Him on high. 
 
182 SOLITUDE. 
 
 SOLITUDE. 
 
 ALL gently breathes the voice of Solitude ! 
 It gives its whispers to the spirit s ear 
 In eloquence so tender and subdued, 
 
 That the rapt seraphs might descend to hear. 
 And with the teachings of that gentle voice 
 There conies a deep forgetfulness of care, 
 . Till the freed soul with Nature can rejoice, 
 And pluck fresh garlands, ever pure and fair. 
 
 No grosser sound of earth can e er be heard 
 
 Where Solitude asserts her gentler sway, 
 But, fairer than the wings of Eden s bird, 
 
 Fancy her own unfolds and floats away, 
 Away, away, to those fair lands of bliss, 
 
 Rich with the flow rets of expanded thought 
 The Edens of the soul where from the kiss 
 
 Of heaven-born muses Poesy is caught. 
 
 These are the treasures Solitude imparts ! 
 
 Oh, blissful visions of the flow ry land, 
 Where the warm life-blood of poetic hearts 
 
 All vital flows at Song s supreme command. 
 
SOLITUDE. 183 
 
 Come 1 Be my chosen prize ! On willing wing 
 I ll flee the crowded haunts of grief and care, 
 
 To seek the climes where Thought s ideal spring, 
 Bequeaths its fragrance to Love s balmy air. 
 
184 LINES TO 
 
 LINES TO 
 
 LADY, for thee I seize my untried lyre, 
 And, with love s daring, touch its trembling 
 
 strings, 
 For thou my young ambition dost inspire, 
 
 And giv st to fancy hope s upsoaring wings. 
 Cheer with thy smile, and all the world may lower, 
 
 For in thy smile a sunshine to my soul 
 Comes, with a blissful and ideal power, 
 
 And through bright vistas points a star-lit goal. 
 Joyous and blest be all thy future life, 
 
 Crowned with spring flow rs and autumn s 
 
 golden fruit : 
 
 Far, far from thee be blighting care and strife, 
 And near, one loving heart one faithful lute I 
 
ON THE DEATH OF AN AGED CLERGYMAN. 185 
 
 H 
 
 ON THE DEATH OF AN 
 
 AGED CLERGYMAN. 
 
 IS voice is bushed ! In a last lone sleep 
 
 His eyelids are closed forever, 
 And, shepherdless now, bis flock may weep, 
 But in bope. That sleep, 
 So fearfully deep, 
 Cannot long the righteous sever ! 
 
 When the trumpet sounds, and the dead arise, 
 
 His spirit shall then, ascending, 
 Meet the sainted hosts of the upper skies 
 The blest that rise 
 " Where the treasure lies," 
 In the land of love unending. 
 
 His priestly garb be shall wear no more, 
 
 Though be kept it bright and stainless ; 
 But a richer garb, on a fairer shore, 
 Shall foreverniore 
 Shed its lustre o er 
 His spirit, released and chainless. 
 
186 OX THE DEATH OF AX AGED CLERGYMAN". 
 
 For half of a century his years 
 
 He has spent as a people s pastor ; 
 He has borne the burdens and wiped the tears 
 Of the young in years, 
 Of the old, whose fears 
 Made them tremble amid disaster. 
 
 For half of a century his life, 
 
 As a sacred trust, was given 
 To a church on earth ; still he calmed the strife 
 With which earth-born life 
 Is forever rife, 
 Till he passed to the church in heaven. 
 
UNES TO . 181 
 
 LINES TO . 
 
 [Written at one o clock, A. M., on the morning of the 
 first of January, 1849.] 
 
 ~T~ ADY, one song for thee ! I touch my lyre, 
 
 I 1 As if the dear ambition of my soul 
 Could find in it an echo. Let me weave 
 Together wreaths of sweetest harmony, 
 Still thou shalt be the music of my verse, 
 And lend thy spirit to my fairest dreams ! 
 
 E en now, when thought takes wing, 
 To soar in fancy o er the fields of hope, 
 Thou rt the companion of my wayward flight, 
 Else, all my course were dark. But when thou art 
 Twin wanderer through fancy s fairy realm, 
 The cheering iris spans hope s highest heaven, 
 And paints its promises with richest dyes. 
 O, tis delightful ! haply, but a dream, 
 Yet would I not forego such blissful dreams 
 For all of loveless wealth s realities. 
 Here, on the altar of the infant year 
 I cast the votive off ring ! May the glow 
 Of fond affection give the incense flame, 
 And warm the censer with love s blest delight. 
 
188 LINES. 
 
 LINES. 
 [Written at sea in a friend s Scrap-book.] 
 
 O ER passion s wave let reason guide 
 The bark which bears us on ; 
 God guard the rudder still the tide, 
 And land us safely, side by side, 
 So we may evermore abide 
 Near his Eternal Throne ! 
 
LITTLE WILLIE. 189 
 
 LITTLE WILLIE. 
 
 I WILL sing no song of sorrow, 
 Though my flow r has ceased to bloom, 
 And the solemn winds of autumn 
 
 Sigh their dirge above his tomb 
 For my Willie ! O, my Willie ! 
 
 Was a child of love and light, 
 And the world to which he s journeyed 
 Never can be one of night. 
 
 Willie was our young immortal, 
 
 Blessing earth a little while, 
 With the freshness of his spirit, 
 
 And the glory of his smile ; 
 But the golden gates of heaven 
 
 Opened wide to let him in, 
 And a seraph s hymn of welcome 
 
 Called him from this world of sin. 
 
 So our Willie has departed 
 
 Bearing not a stain of earth, 
 And though painful was the parting, 
 
 Twas to him " a second birth." 
 
190 LITTLE WILLIE. 
 
 Sinless, to the realms eternal 
 He has borne a mother s prayer, 
 
 And in dreams of bliss supernal 
 I have met his spirit there. 
 
 NEW ORLEANS, Oct. 15, 1865. 
 
LET ME DREAM. 191 
 
 O, LET ME DREAM. 
 
 OLET me dream those dreams again- 
 The dreams of long ago 
 When all my hopes had angel wings, 
 And, in my path, the crystal springs 
 
 Of life were in their flow. 
 0, let me dream those dreams again 
 The dreams of long ago ! 
 
 0, let me dream those boyhood dreams, 
 Which bathed my soul in light, 
 
 When, playing in life s sunny bowers, 
 
 I twined a chaplet wreath of flowers 
 For one so fair and bright 
 
 For one who is an angel now 
 An angel robed in white. 
 
 O, let me dream those dreams again ! 
 
 The past bring back once more : 
 I ask it on my bended knees 
 O let those mystic memories 
 
 Unlock their golden store, 
 So I can touch them one by one 
 
 And count my treasures o er. 
 
192 O, LET ME DREAM. 
 
 0, let me dream those dreams again, 
 Which came ere grief and care 
 
 Had placed their signet on my brow 
 
 And bound me to a sterner Now 
 That goads and will not spare, 
 
 I d dream of her who, although dead, 
 Is still so pure and fair. 
 
193 
 
 FOR THEE, MY LOVE, FOR THEE ! 
 
 A LYRIC. 
 
 rTlHY love s the sun, thou peerless one- 
 _L It warms me with its glow ; 
 With light divine it seems to shine, 
 
 Though I alone can know 
 Its secret charm a shield from harm 
 
 On life s uncertain sea: 
 O, I shall pray, both night and day, 
 For thee, my love, for thee ! 
 
 With starry gleams, in holy dreams 
 
 Thou comest to my soul, 
 As o er a strand of golden sand 
 
 Life s sparkling waters roll : 
 And, with the kiss of purest bliss, 
 
 Attuned to harmony, 
 My thoughts arise to brightest skies, 
 
 With thee, my love, with thee. 
 
194 FOR THEE, MY LOVE, FOR THEE ! 
 
 The golden chimes of sweetest rhymes 
 
 Thy charms but faintly tell, 
 The softest note that e er did float 
 
 From fairy horn or shell 
 With birds that sing, and flow rs of spring, 
 
 And all bright things that be 
 None can compare, with voice or air, 
 
 With thee, my love, with thee ! 
 
 O, I would write thy name with light, 
 
 To shame the stars above, 
 And in high lays would ever praise 
 
 The riches of thy love, 
 All wealth that shines in golden mines, 
 
 All gems of land and sea, 
 Are but as rust and trampled dust, 
 
 To thee, my love, to thee ! 
 
THE LIGHT OF MY LOVED ONE ? S EYES. 195 
 
 THE LIGHT OF MY LOVED ONE S EYES. 
 
 WHO will praise bestow 
 On the opal s glow, 
 Or the diamond s sparkling sheen, 
 When the richer prize 
 Of my loved one s eyes 
 May, in peerless pride, be seen ? 
 In each liquid sphere 
 Does a glow appear 
 That would light up the farthest skies, 
 For tis never night 
 When appears the light, 
 The light of my loved one s eyes 
 
 The light of my loved one s eyes 
 For tis never night 
 When appears the light, 
 The light of my loved one s eyes. 
 
 All the world seems gay 
 
 As the flow rs of May, 
 When illumed by my loved one s smile, 
 
 For the blessed gleam, 
 
 Like a holy beam 
 From some blissful, starry isle, 
 
196 
 
 With a lustre rare 
 Maketh all things fair 
 As the fairest of earth or skies, 
 For tis never night 
 When appears the light, 
 The light of my loved one s eyes 
 The light of my loved one s eyes- 
 For tis never night 
 When appears the light, 
 The light of my loved one s ones. 
 
FORGETTING THEE ? 197 
 
 FORGETTING THEE? 
 
 FORGETTING thee ? oh no, my love : 
 I never can forget 
 The pulse of joy that thrilled my heart 
 
 When first we fondly met ; 
 The hope that kindled in the blaze 
 
 Of thy soul-piercing eye, 
 And taught me how to worship thee 
 
 My all beneath the sky ! 
 Nay, chide no more : I will confess, 
 
 And thou my saint shall be, 
 And kneeling at thy feet I ll swear 
 
 I am for getting thee ! 
 
 Forgetting thee ? When Spring forgets 
 
 To robe the fields in bloom, 
 And, sere and desolate, my heart 
 
 Shall all its hopes entomb ; 
 When light and joy shall to my soul 
 
 Come as a deadly blight, 
 And stars no more shall brightly gem 
 
 The azure halls of night, 
 I may forget, but not till then ; 
 
 Still, thou my saint shall be, 
 And I ll confess I am, my love, 
 
 I am for getting thee ! 
 
198 OUT, OUT IXTO THE SUNLIGHT. 
 
 OUT, OUT IXTO THE SUNLIGHT. 
 
 OUT, out into the sunlight from the tyrant s 
 dungeon wall ; 
 Let man before his fellow man no longer fawn 
 
 and crawl ! 
 Accurs d be hoary tyrannies, and more accursM 
 
 be he 
 
 Whose traitor-hand would basely forge a fetter 
 for the free ! 
 
 Out, out into the sunlight ! 
 
 Out, out into the sunlight, from the darkened 
 
 chamber where 
 The sick, with plaints of agony and feebly-uttered 
 
 prayer, 
 Ask God to alter His decrees, and by his sov- 
 
 reign will 
 To utter a divine "Be healed!" or else a "Peace, 
 
 be still!" 
 
 Out, out into the sunlight. 
 
 Out, out into the sunlight, from the bigot s dark 
 some cell, 
 
 Where superstition plumes herself with mysteries 
 from hell ; 
 
OUT, OUT INTO THE SUNLIGHT. 199 
 
 Where mind is manacled with dread, and base 
 
 unholy fears 
 Cast out all love and, in its stead, dig deep the 
 
 fount of tears. 
 
 Out, out into the sunlight ! 
 
 Out, out into the sunlight, from the blackness of 
 
 despair, 
 Where hope is lost, and weary souls, bow d down 
 
 by grief and care, 
 Find earth a barren desert-waste, and heav n a 
 
 starless wild, 
 And they themselves, poor creeping worms, un- 
 
 cared for and defiled. 
 
 Out, out into the sunlight ! 
 
 Out, out into the sunlight, from the vampire hordes 
 
 that draw 
 The life-blood from all better life, all equity from 
 
 law ; 
 Who fill this goodly world of ours with discontent 
 
 and strife, 
 And consecrate to godless deeds the pistol and 
 
 the knife. 
 
 Out, out into the sunlight ! 
 
 Out, out into the sunlight, from those rayless 
 
 depths of gloom, 
 Which hide alike all peace on earth, and peace 
 
 beyond the tomb ; 
 
200 OUT, OUT INTO THE SUNLIGHT. 
 
 Where feeble toilers toil in tears to find their 
 struggles vain, 
 
 And curse the Pow r that made their lives a herit 
 age of pain. 
 
 Out, out into the sunlight ! 
 
 Out, out into the sunlight, where the soul, re 
 deemed and free, 
 
 Can borrow wings from heav nly hopes : with 
 eyes of faith can see 
 
 Beyond the shadows of the tomb the morning, 
 land appear 
 
 Where peace, and love, and joy shall crown the 
 never-ending year. 
 
 Out, out into the sunlight ! 
 
THE GOLDEN CHAIN. 201 
 
 THE GOLDEN CHAIN. 
 
 [Written for the Odd Fellows Anniversary Celebration.] 
 
 rTlHERE is a chain whose golden links 
 JL Heaven s choicest gifts embrace ; 
 Life s crowning heritage on earth, 
 
 Its glory and its grace : 
 Pure as the rainbow s blended dyes, 
 
 Free as the stars from stain, 
 Are Friendship, Love, and Truth the links 
 Which form that golden chain. 
 
 FRIENDSHIP ! in mystic brotherhood 
 
 It binds man to his kind, 
 Supporting still the poor and frail, 
 
 And guiding still the blind. 
 So brave to meet fraternal wants, 
 
 So gentle in distress, 
 It shares, it watches, and it cheers, 
 
 And prays that Heav n may bless. 
 
 LOVE ! blissful dream of Eden sweets 
 Which angels fain would breathe ; 
 
 It comes like spring, the tree of life 
 With blossoms to cnwreathe ; 
 
202 THE GOLDEN CHAIN. 
 
 It presses from joy s blushing grapes 
 
 Their rich ambrosial wine, 
 And thrills the throbbing human heart 
 
 With ecstacies divine. 
 
 TRUTH ! mirror of the god-like mind ! 
 
 Like the unruffled lake, 
 ^Reflecting all the glowing heavens, 
 
 Whose glories o er it break. 
 In its clear depths no hidden snare 
 
 Can ever lie concealed, 
 For all things there are pure and bright 
 
 As Jove s immdrtal shield. 
 
 Thus richly linked the golden chain 
 
 A sacred charm extends, 
 Inviting still the good and true 
 
 To join for noble ends : 
 Making the words of brotherhood 
 
 Assume a magic power, 
 And every sign a beiiison, 
 
 And each Degree a dower. 
 
 So stands the glorious Order with 
 
 Its banners fair unfurled, 
 Proclaiming Friendship, Love and Truth, 
 
 Redeemers of the world ; 
 Keeping the sacred jewels bright 
 
 Around which brothers meet, 
 And symbolizing holy ties 
 
 With water, flowers, and wheat. 
 
SONG OF WELCOME. 203 
 
 SONG OF WELCOME. 
 
 [Written for the General Convention of the Young Men s 
 Christian Association.] 
 
 "TT7TELCOME, brothers ! from the woodlands, 
 V V From the cities by the sea, 
 From the heaven-kissing mountains 
 
 Here we meet in unity. 
 Let us join the angel chorus, 
 
 Let us shout again again ! 
 " Glory be to God, the Highest ! 
 Peace on earth ! Good will to men !" 
 
 Welcome, brothers ! Bonds fraternal 
 
 Make our hearts responsive beat ; 
 Giving strength to aid the erring ; 
 
 Rendering communion sweet. 
 Join we then the angel chorus, 
 
 Shouting loud again again ! 
 " Glory be to God, the Highest ! 
 
 Peace on earth ! Good will to men 1" 
 
2C4 SONG OF WELCOME. 
 
 Welcome, brothers ! Strong in council ; 
 
 May we prove in virtue brave ; 
 Brave to aid the broken-hearted 
 
 Strong to comfort and to save 
 Swelling still the angel chorus, 
 
 Shouting still again again I 
 " Glory be to God, the Highest, 
 
 Peace on earth 1 Good will to men 1" 
 
DOMESTIC FELICITY. 205 
 
 DOMESTIC FELICITY. 
 
 [A Scene from Real Life, between a fond husband and a 
 would-be fashionable wife, who has a tongue, and uses it in 
 a manner peculiar to herself.] 
 
 WILLIE. 
 
 OME to me, Flora; the earth hath no treasure 
 So dear unto me as the light of thy smile ; 
 Come, and these arms shall enfold thee as fondly 
 As waves when encircling some beautiful isle. 
 
 Come to me, dearest, and tell of thy sorrowings ; 
 
 Who hath annoyed thee, my darling, my wife ? 
 If it be woman, I ll fight all her brotherhood ; 
 
 If it be man, he shall pay with his life. 
 
 FLORA. 
 
 Why, dearest Willie, we ladies have miseries 
 Sorrows unthought of, undreamed of by man 
 
 You " coarser vessels" are still inconsiderate, 
 Though you may love us as muck as you can ! 
 
206 DOMESTIC FELICITY. 
 
 Sensitive, delicate, highly poetical : 
 Keenly we suffer as warmly we feel ; 
 
 Worthy of worship we are and angelical ; 
 
 Down on your knees to me, down Willie, kneel. 
 
 What ! you refuse ? And shall I then recount to 
 you 
 
 Part of the catalogue, fearfully long, 
 Which is my proof that in love or in sorrow, we 
 
 Gentle ones suffer much more than the strong ? 
 
 Strength is robustuous, earthy, tyrannical, 
 Man has his fierceness in love as in hate, 
 
 But the true woman s all beauty and sympathy ; 
 Meek as a flower, she bows to her fate. 
 
 See how resigned I am, never complainingly 
 Yexing my Willie with tales of my woe ! 
 
 Suffer ! no tongue can tell how I am suffering, 
 Yet my worst sorrows no mortal shall know ! 
 
 There s Mrs. Money Purse I do not envy her, 
 Yet if you knew but how hard tis to bear 
 
 The flash of her diamonds, the whirl of her carriage 
 
 wheels, 
 Sure you would pity me, pity and spare. 
 
 Think of it, Willie, she s old and she s ugly too ; 
 
 I, your true wife, am a beauty and young ; 
 If I were rich I should show you the difference, 
 
 Then should my praises be said and be sung. 
 
DOMES-TIC FELICITY. 207 
 
 Men will have fashions and ladies must follow them, 
 Follow, no matter tow much it may cost, 
 
 Still must they struggle to keep up appearances ! 
 Think in those struggles how many are lost ! 
 
 I m your true wife, and I know of your poverty, 
 Just then imagine how bad I must feel 
 
 When brocades and rich laces are shown at the 
 
 windows, 
 And I can but look in, and turn on iny heel ! 
 
 1 cannot buy them, and oh, the temptations 
 Which virtuous poverty e er must endure, 
 
 When, as in my case, it treads among pitfalls 
 And never is certain its footing is sure. 
 
 WILLIE. 
 
 So you re tired of poverty, are you, my Flora ? 
 
 Though not quite as poor as you were when we 
 
 wed. 
 You fear some rich lion may enter our jungle, 
 
 And you ll, like a lamb, to the slaughter be led. 
 
 Fear not, be a woman, and wealth will not tempt 
 you ; 
 
 Those lambs are too willing that run to the snare: 
 That virtue is tainted which welcomes temptation, 
 
 If true, it the strongest of tempters may dare. 
 
208 DOMESTIC FELICITY. 
 
 FLORA. 
 
 There now, that s the way with you, always up 
 braiding me, 
 
 Flinging out coarse inuendoes and jeers ; 
 No wonder my cheeks are deprived of their roses, 
 
 My eyes melt away in an ocean of tears. 
 
 You re a brute, and not even an angel could bear 
 
 with you ; 
 
 Oh, were I but back to my mother once more, 
 I d find some one then who would know how to 
 
 prize me ; 
 
 Some man with a heart that could love and 
 adore ! 
 
 Pshaw ! it s no use to say you re too poor to sup 
 port me, 
 
 For there s Mr. Jones who is poorer than you, 
 But he always can purchase a shawl or a bonnet, 
 
 As all husbands can who are loyal and true. 
 
 If he only had now a sweet wife such as lara 
 And not a mere stick ; a mere bundle of bones ; 
 
 He d wear out his fingers to load her with jewels, 
 And show to the world how he prized Mrs. 
 Jones. 
 
 ]S T ot a word ! not a word ! I insist on it, Willie, 
 For I plainly perceive by the curl of your lip 
 
 That you re itching to say something vulgar and 
 
 silly, 
 To which, if a man, I d respond with a whip. 
 
DOMESTIC FELICITY. 209 
 
 There again ! getting cross, it is sadly provoking; 
 
 Come, ask my forgiveness and don t be absurd ; 
 No pouting and showing your temper, dear Willie, 
 
 For you know your sweet Flora must have the 
 last word. 
 
210 GIVE ME THE HARP. 
 
 GIVE ME THE HARP. 
 
 [Mary A. , a daughter of Rev. J. Blanchard, President of 
 Wheaton College, died on the 6th inst. She was a remark 
 ably pious girl ; and, as her spirit approached the heavenly 
 land, she cried out , " Give me the harp I hear /" and then 
 she quietly fell asleep in Jesus.] 
 
 /^\ IVE me the harp with the sounding strings, 
 \JT The harp whose tones I hear 
 It seems upborne by an angel s wings, 
 And unto my bursting heart it brings 
 
 The sounds of hope and cheer 
 A melody all divine, that springs 
 From a higher and purer sphere. 
 
 Give me the harp, and this trembling hand 
 
 Released from the ills of earth, 
 Shall learn the lays of the better land, 
 Shall touch the strings with a high command, 
 
 And the joy of a spirit-birth 
 Shall thrill my soul with a rapture grand, 
 
 With a fond and holy mirth . 
 
GIVE ME THE HARP. 211 
 
 Give me the harp, and I ll bid farewell 
 
 To the fleeting scenes of time ; 
 With the loved ones gone before I d dwell, 
 My harp with theirs should the echoes swell 
 
 Of a high immortal rhyme ; 
 Give me the harp, for I fain would tell 
 
 Of release from this world of crime. 
 
212 LINES. 
 
 LINES. 
 
 [On the death of Harry Stroud Caldwell, son of James-H. 
 and the late Josephine Caldwell, of this city (X. 0.)] 
 
 J. 
 
 SWEET prattler, thou hast gone ; 
 Gone to thy mother s loving arms again, 
 Gone to that home above the homes of men. 
 
 II. 
 
 And should we grieve for thee ? 
 Grief is the badge of weakness and distress ; 
 The Hand that gave in blessing we should bless. 
 
 III. 
 
 We mourn, not when the sun 
 Sinks in the West, for in the mom twill rise 
 As thou hast risen a flory to the skies. 
 
LINES. 213 
 
 IY. 
 
 Thou wert not left in pain 
 To pass a weary pilgrimage on earth ; 
 Eternal joy came with thy " second birth." 
 
 Then no presumptuous tear 
 Should tell of sorrow when our joy should be 
 Full, as God s blessings to the soul set free. 
 
214 THE COMIXG OF THE SPRING. 
 
 THE COMIXa OF THE SPRING. 
 
 TO 
 
 ~TTT"HEX wintry winds through leafless boughs 
 VV Discordant dirges wail, 
 
 Like some great sorrow taking voice 
 
 To tell its mournful tale, 
 Then Hope s prophetic wisdom breathes 
 
 Of Time, the fleet of wing, 
 And of the joys which always crown 
 The coming of the Spring. 
 
 Oh, lovely Spring ! when vine and spray 
 
 Bloom like the prophet s rod ; 
 When violets and daisies rise 
 
 From out the virgin sod ; 
 When bird and insect, leaf and flow r, 
 
 Life s joyous anthem sing 1 , 
 Who who that feels can fail to bless 
 
 The coming of the Spring ! 
 
 Spring is the time for soaring thought 
 
 Spring is the time for love 
 When flow rs breathe out their fragrant sighs 
 
 And music charms the grove ; 
 
THE COMING OF THE SPRING. 215 
 
 And, oh, in bliss my spirit soars : 
 
 To thee, my love, Fd bring 
 Fair chaplets, rich as those which crown 
 
 The coming of the Spring. 
 
216 BROTHERS, ARISE. 
 
 BROTHERS, ARISE. 
 
 [Read before the Southern Literary Society, at its Tenth 
 Anniversary Celebration, February 18, 1859.] 
 
 SEE, on Time s dial the shadows receding, 
 Moving abashed from the pathway of light. 
 List, the evangel of progress is pleading ! 
 
 Rise in your manhood contend for the Right ! 
 Brothers, arise ! 
 Strive for the prize ! 
 Run for the goal that s eternally bright ! 
 
 Long we ve contended with toil unavailing ; 
 
 Gathering wealth, which is dross ere it s won ; 
 Seeking for happiness ; seeking and failing ; 
 Feeding on husks, like the prodigal son. 
 Brothers, arise ! 
 Strive for the prize ! 
 The labor of Life should be manfully done. 
 
 Freighted with poison, the air which surrounds us 
 Comes fetid and foul from the haunts of the vile; 
 Step where we will, the contagion confounds us ; 
 Oh, let us seek that which will not defile ! 
 Brothers, arise ! 
 Strive for the prize ! 
 Shake off the trammels of passion and guile. 
 
BROTHERS, ARISE. 217 
 
 Thousands, alas, are enamored of ruin ; 
 
 Downward they rush, like a stream to the sea ; 
 Vanity, folly and crime their undoing 
 Scarce do they utter a prayer to be free ! 
 Brothers, arise ! 
 Strive for the prize ! 
 Be truly brave, and the tempter will flee. 
 
 Rise like the lark when his song to the morning 
 
 Thrills with fresh joy all the pulses of air ; 
 Rise like the sun, when the hills he s adorning 
 With emeralds, flowers, and all that is fair ! 
 Brothers, arise ! 
 Strive for the prize ! 
 Strive for a guerdon twere glory to share. 
 
 Oh, for a song that would thrill as the lightning, 
 Which rifts the dun cloud like the glance of a god ! 
 Still purifying, refreshing and brightening 
 
 The air that we breathe when we wander abroad. 
 Brothers, arise ! 
 Strive for the prize ! 
 Look up to heaven, not down to the clod ! 
 
 Seek not the trinkets and baubles of Fashion ; 
 
 To bodily grossness enslave not the soul : 
 March up the age, with the promptings of Passion 
 Held, like a steed, by the reins of control. 
 Brothers, arise ! 
 Strive for the prize ! 
 The standard of Reason and Manhood unroll. 
 
218 BROTHERS, ARISE. 
 
 See, on Time s dial the shadows receding, 
 
 Moving abashed from the pathway of light. 
 List, the evangel of Progress is pleading 1 
 Kise in your manhood contend for the Right 
 Brothers, arise ! 
 Strive for the prize ! 
 Run for the goal that s eternally bright. 
 
GONE. 219 
 
 GONE. 
 
 HE has gone ! 
 
 Gone to realms of light unending, 
 Where the hymns of earth, ascending 
 Are with angel-peans blending 
 As they circle round the Throne ! 
 
 All the cares which gather d round him, 
 While Time s earthly fetters bound him, 
 Disappeared, when Death had crown d him 
 With a glory not his own. 
 
 Oh, then, weep not that before us 
 He has joined the deathless chorus : 
 Still his spirit hovers o er us ; 
 Weep not, then, that he has gone ! 
 
 Gone to realms of light unending, 
 Where the hymns of earth ascending, 
 Are with angel-peans blending 
 As they circle round the Throne ! 
 
220 
 
 A DREAM. 
 
 I VE KISSED HER IN A DREAM/ 
 
 SHE moves along the crowded streets, 
 A vision fair and bright ; 
 Her lustrous eyes outshine the stars 
 
 Which gem the halls of Night. 
 Her lips arc Love s delighted throne : 
 
 Her cheeks twin roses seem ; 
 And oh, the bliss the more than bliss 
 I ve kissed her in a dream 1 
 
 Her voice is music, and her step 
 
 Is light as Zephyr s tread ; 
 Tis Paradise where er she is ; 
 
 Tis rapture to be led 
 By her soft hand through phantom-lands, 
 
 Where love is all the theme ; 
 And oh, the bliss the more than bliss 
 
 I ve kissed her in a dream ! 
 
 * This song has been set to music. 
 
I VE KISSED HER IN A DREAM. 221 
 
 Let others praise their work-day loves, 
 
 And pledge them in their wine, 
 Thought-blossoms, cull d in fairy groves, 
 
 I ll wreathe in song for mine. 
 She s fair as heav n, and dear and pure 
 
 As sunlight s primal beam ; 
 And oh, the bliss the more than bliss 
 
 I ve kissed her in a dream ! 
 
THE PARTIXG. 
 
 THE PAKTING. 
 
 UPON a lawn, at early dawn, 
 They stood, with tearful eyes 
 The fair and gentle Annie Ware, 
 And valiant Willie Wise. 
 
 " Willie," said she, most tenderly, 
 " Will, will you still be true, 
 
 And will you fight as valiant knight 
 And lover bold should do ?" 
 
 " I will," said Will, his horse meanwhile 
 
 Impatient of delay, 
 Began to neigh with stately pride 
 
 For fear he might say nay. 
 
 " And oh, beware 1" fair Annie cried, 
 Her words half choked with sighs : 
 
 He soon replied, " I will be ware 
 If you will but be Wise !" 
 
 A kiss was his reward, and then 
 
 He mounted on his steed, 
 And for her sake determined to 
 
 Do valiant deeds indeed. 
 
THE PARTING. 223 
 
 In pearls the dew hung on the grass 
 
 When thus he sighed adieu ! 
 "And must I part, alas! alas ! 
 
 With such a lass as you ?" 
 
 NEW ORLEANS, December, 1863. 
 
224 SOXG OF THE NEW YEAR. 
 
 SONG OF THE NEW YEAR. 
 
 HARK ! tis the midnight chime, 
 Which speaks the march of Time, 
 And calls up gushing memories of the departed 
 
 year ; 
 
 Still, as the music swells 
 High from sonorous bells 
 
 Hope draws her horoscope and visions bright ap 
 pear. 
 
 Grandly the train conies on ; 
 
 Not spectres pale and wan 
 Are those prophetic thoughts which make the 
 future bright, 
 
 But, of supernal mould, 
 
 Decked in their robes of gold, 
 Come they, the harbingers of liberty and light. 
 
 One with it Science brings, 
 
 Science, too deep for Kings, 
 Wider than worlds in the circuit of its sweep. 
 
 Near as our souls are near ; 
 
 Dear, as our hopes are dear ; 
 Pure as the stars which are mirrored in the deep. 
 
SONG OF THE NEW YEAR. 225 
 
 One, with persuasive voice, 
 Bids the oppressed rejoice, 
 And shouts the song of Freedom in the tyrant s 
 
 very ear ; 
 
 Shouts, till from hill and wold 
 Come forth the true and bold 
 Come forth to battle armed with gun and sword 
 and spear. 
 
 One seems in faith to rise, 
 Seeking with earnest eyes 
 For Wisdom s ways of pleasantness ar.d gentle 
 
 paths of peace : 
 These, as a golden road, 
 Lead to the blest abode, 
 
 Where all the weary-laden rest and earthly sor 
 rows cease. 
 
 List to the prophet train, 
 Ye who have felt the pain, 
 The sorrow and the falsehood and the vanities of 
 
 life; 
 
 List, and in faith be strong, 
 Braving the false and wrong, 
 Come forth and prove yourselves heroic in the 
 strife. 
 
 Shake off all slavish fears, 
 Nurst amid cares and tears, 
 When darkness rested on the world, an incubus 
 of gloom, 
 
226 SONG OF THE NEW YEAR. 
 
 Rise in thy human might ! 
 Strike for the true and right ! 
 Then thou may st look in hope beyond the silence 
 of the tomb. 
 
 Far from earth s prison bars 
 
 Bright homes beyond the stars 
 Welcome the ransomed who have shaken off the 
 clay 
 
 Homes where the blessed meet ; 
 
 Oh ! for the loved retreat, 
 Bathed in the radiance of an eternal day ! 
 
SCIENCE AND ART. 22 1 
 
 SCIENCE AND ART. 
 
 TIME had commenced his flight. The eternal 
 hills, 
 
 To the deep-sounding music of the spheres, 
 Were marshaled into place. Old Ocean s bounds 
 And limits were determined, and the floods 
 Filled all his caves with an unceasing song, 
 Which rose and fell, to suit the dance of worlds. 
 
 J Twas spring Earth s primal spring birds 
 
 were abroad ; 
 
 The air was vocal with their hymns ; and flowers 
 Laughed, on the first unfolding of their sweets, 
 To greet the gladsome day. 
 
 Eden was happy then. No shade of ill 
 Had ever rested on her virgin bowers, 
 And angel visitants from their high homes 
 Approved and wondered at the geu ral joy. 
 
 Beside Euphrates strenrn two youths reclined, 
 Half mortal, half immortal iu their form. 
 Beauteous they were ; but unto human eyes 
 
228 SCIENCE AND ART. 
 
 They wore a dim and unsubstantial shape, 
 
 Like the faint shadows of a passing dream. 
 
 Angels could see them ; and to such they seemed 
 
 A strange and undeveloped mystery 
 
 The pride and glory of the coining time 
 
 The wonder of the ages yet to be ! 
 
 One, SCIENCE called, had a clear God-like brow, 
 
 And eyes, far-seeing, yet of gentlest cast ; 
 
 The other, ART, seemed the embodiment 
 
 Of every germ of skill and plastic power. 
 
 Alike, and still unlike ! As brothers, they 
 
 Spoke of their earthly mission. They surveyed 
 
 The work to each allotted, and agreed 
 
 That through the thought and by the hands of 
 
 man 
 
 That work should be performed. Invisible, 
 They were to act a gentle prompter s part, 
 And by a spirit-chain of faith and love, 
 All humanized with emulative pride, 
 They were to lead men on to noble deeds 
 At which their peers should wonder and rejoice. 
 
 Time passed. Earth s plains were peopled. Art 
 
 commenced 
 
 The prefatory wonders of his work. 
 But at the first men s hands were slow to shape 
 The prompt designings of suggestive thought 
 Which came, they knew not whence. Soon Prac 
 tice gave 
 Fresh pliancy to every finger s joint, 
 
SCIENCE AND ART. 229 
 
 Till, from the deep, dark caverns of the earth, 
 Ores were brought forth and moulded, as they list, 
 Who, tutored into cunning workmanship, 
 Gould ply the hammer and could forge the steel. 
 Then the rude loom and the still ruder plough, 
 And arms for warfare, and the woodman s axe 
 First fruits of labor and constructive skill 
 Appeared and claimed a lasting meed of praise. 
 Science looked on, well pleased. In the deep earth 
 From which the ores were taken, caverns wide 
 Were found, with rocks o er-written by a pen, 
 Whose marks were yet a marvel and unread. 
 And Science breathed on men, and bade them scan 
 Whate er was new and wonderful and strange. 
 Mountains were climbed ; and where volcanic fires 
 Poured forth their burning floods, and flashed 
 
 their flames 
 
 In lurid grandeur gainst the starlit sky, 
 There Science took his way with studious step 
 To study Nature s Book of Mysteries. 
 He sought the leafy grove, the flow ry plain, 
 The trickling rill, the fountain s cooling flow, 
 And Ocean s vast and yet defiant plain, 
 To learn of them their wonders. These, when 
 
 learned, 
 
 In dreams were whispered into human ears, 
 Till men, from deepest sleep, would start, surprised 
 At revelations which came, as the winds, 
 Whose source they knew not. Phantom forms of 
 
 things 
 
230 SCIENCE AND ART. 
 
 The air-drawn antitypes which were to be 
 
 The workman s guide to frame inventions* strange, 
 
 Would start from naught and seem reality. 
 
 And Art, through human hands would give them 
 
 shape, 
 
 Moulding the wood, the metal and the clay, 
 As willing aids in man s progressive path. 
 
 Time circles on : The storm-defying bark 
 Floats proudly o er the waters : On the heights 
 The pride-suggested tower is upreared, 
 To penetrate above the fleecy clouds, 
 And solve the azure mysteries of heaven. 
 The brush, the pencil and the chisel seem 
 To glow with mystic life. Beneath their touch 
 Dull matter put on an attractive guise 
 Of counterfeit existence. These proclaim 
 The works of Art of daring, skillful Art 
 Who, when the earth was young in centuries, 
 Outstripped his god-like brother in the race, 
 And on his brow the boasted laurel bore. 
 Science approval gave ; his soaring thought, 
 Uneuvious, traced the circuit of the stars ; 
 Eead with deep skill the wondrous lore of heaven ; 
 Sought in the thunder-cloud its sacred fire, 
 And tamed it for man s use in after years ; 
 Stooped to the boiling caldron and inquired 
 Of steam its hidden force ; asked of the brook, 
 That laughed and danced along its pebbly way, 
 
 * This term is used in a strictly mechanical sense. 
 
SCIENCE AND ART. 231 
 
 If pow r it had to turn the ponderous wheel, 
 
 And, tireless, work ungrudgingly for man ? 
 
 The answers were earth s riches. Long, long years 
 
 Careered through changeful seasons, and were lost 
 
 In the oblivious Lethe of the Past, 
 
 Ere the full force of all those mysteries 
 
 Could be impressed upon the finite mind. 
 
 Thus, in their relative though separate spheres, 
 
 Toiled Art and Science for the human race. 
 
 What Science pointed with prophetic thought 
 
 Art would embody with realities ; 
 
 And when Art failed in strivings for mankind, 
 
 Science suggested ready remedies. 
 
 The trembling needle, faithful to the pole, 
 
 Approves their joint endeavor. O er the sea, 
 
 Through storm and darkness, still it points the 
 
 way 
 
 A trusted sentinel, which knows no change, 
 Though all around it changes. Theirs the skill 
 Which marries music to " immortal verse " 
 To chant progression s peans. Theirs the pow r 
 Which chains the restive vapor to the car 
 And strong-bound bark, and bids it urge them on, 
 Fleet as the wind, though gravitation s laws 
 And fiercest storms opposing may defy. 
 Theirs is the might, whose god-light majesty 
 Has bound the electric messenger of heaven 
 Made it the minister of human thought 
 Taught it the varied languages of earth 
 And sends it, swift as coursers of the sun, 
 
232 SCIENCE AND ART. 
 
 O er mountain tops through seas till distant 
 
 lands 
 
 Whisper familiar in each other s ears, 
 As lovers, when together. Yast and grand 
 As such twin triumphs are, they re still as naught, 
 Compared with wonders which are yet to be, 
 When Art and Science ope their ampler store 1 
 
ELLA LEE. 233 
 
 ELLA LEE. 
 
 "T~ IKE the stars which sparkle 
 I J In the azure height, 
 Brightening the darkness, 
 
 Beautifying night, 
 Are thine eyes to me, 
 Lovely Ella Lee 
 Are thine eyes to me, 
 Oh, my lovely Ella Lee. 
 
 Like the rose which blushes 
 
 In the garden fair, 
 Making purer, sweeter, 
 
 All that s blooming there, 
 Are thy cheeks to me, 
 Lovely Ella Lee 
 Are thy cheeks to me," 
 Oh, my lovely Ella Lee. 
 
 Like the rays of gladness, 
 
 Early morning throws 
 Over fields and flowers, 
 
 Blushing in repose, 
 
234 ELLA LEE. 
 
 Are thy smiles to me, 
 Lovely Ella Lee 
 Are the smiles to me, 
 Oh, my lovely Ella Lee. 
 
 Like the ruby portals 
 
 To the realms of bliss, 
 Where Elysian maidens 
 Welcome with a kiss, 
 Are thy lips to me, 
 Lovely Ella Lee 
 Are thy lips to me, 
 Oh, my lovely Ella Lee. 
 
THE VOYAGE OF LIFE. 235 
 
 THE VOYAGE OF LIFE. 
 
 a morn in Spring, and the perfumed air 
 I Seems freighted with treasures of answered 
 
 prayer ; 
 
 From the groves and hills come a matin song, 
 Which the sylvan echoes in joy prolong, 
 As if to tempt from the bending skies, 
 Sweet angel voices with kind replies. 
 
 Before me runneth a wondrous stream, 
 Bearing all things on like a changeful dream ; 
 There are hopes and joys, there are cares and 
 
 tears, 
 
 There are cherished trophies of by-gone years ; 
 There are vessels laden with pearls and gold, 
 With the jewels bought, with the jewels sold, 
 With wealth that can neither be sold nor bought, 
 With thoughts that can neither be tamed nor 
 
 taught, 
 
 With willing hearts like the fruitful vine 
 Which yields at the harvest its oil or wine 
 With care and shame, with disease and sin 
 All that man can lose all that man can win ! 
 
236 THE VOYAGE OP LIFE. 
 
 The stream is Time, and its onward roll 
 Is to that bright realm the eternal goal, 
 Which the eye of Faith can discern afar 
 By the light of an uncreated Star.* 
 
 Now I see a bark pushing out from shore, 
 At the prow is Hope, at the stern an oar ; 
 In the midst two children awake to play, 
 While the bright sun silvers their shining way ; 
 They re young immortals and " outward bound " 
 May their keel ne er touch on enchanted ground ! 
 May they safely pass by the tempting isles 
 Which pleasure gilds with deceitful smiles ! 
 When the storms arise and the tempests blow, 
 In whom to trust may they always know. 
 
 See, tired of play, on their mother s breast 
 Now, calm and trustful, they sink to rest ! 
 The father urgeth the shallop on 
 While the sea is calm ere the light hath gone. 
 
 A change : There s a book on a teacher s knee, 
 In which thoughts take form that the eye can see. 
 The teacher teacheth the growing child, 
 And points to the fountains that, undefiled, 
 Pour forth for the world their refreshing streams, 
 Where the light of Science and Learning gleams. 
 
 * The Star of Bethlehem. 
 
THE VOYAGE OF LIFE. 237 
 
 The teacher teacheth of earth and sky 
 How the mortal form must decay and die ; 
 How the light of Wisdom and warmth of Love 
 Must come from supernal realms above, 
 And how, unyielding to Death s control, 
 Forever liveth the human soul. 
 
 What a noble labor, if rightly done 1 
 What harvest treasures there may be won 
 From the goodly soil where each chosen seed 
 Bears a precious thought or a precious deed. 
 
 Still on and on doth the vessel glide ; 
 Still on and on, through the yielding tide. 
 They re glowing landscapes it passes now ; 
 The sun is gilding the mountain s brow, 
 And stream, and meadow, and hill, and plain, 
 Are singing gaily : " Not made in vain . " 
 When nature thus on the young heart smiles, 
 And Hope is pointing to laughing isles, 
 Is it strange that some will be led astray 
 Into paths which promise a golden way 
 That seeking pleasure, they gather woes, 
 And feel the thorn when they pluck the rose ? 
 
 I see the vessel she still moves on 
 
 But where are the father and mother gone ? 
 
 Where are the sister and teacher, too ? 
 
 They have disappeared from my searching view. 
 
238 THE VOYAGE OF LIFE. 
 
 Perhaps they sleep in the ocean caves, 
 Or were laid to rest in some land of graves. 
 It matters not they are gone, all gone, 
 But still the vessel careereth on. 
 
 What sound is that ? tis a lover s sigh ; 
 Like a breathing zephyr it passes by ; 
 Both joy and sadness are in its tone, 
 But the lover who breathes it is not alone ! 
 " Father and mother the son shall leave ; 
 And unto his wife he shall kindly cleave." 
 
 The radiant sun in his golden march 
 
 Hath wandered high up in the heavenly arch ; 
 
 And when again I the bark behold, 
 
 A tale of love and of life is told. 
 
 I see a wife and a mother there ; 
 
 They ask a husband s and father s care, 
 
 A sword and a helmet are hanging near, 
 
 With a trusty shield and a trusty spear, 
 
 And the proud man saith : " I m secure from harm 
 
 In my own brave heart in my own strong arm." 
 
 Boast not, O man, in thy pride of strength, 
 For the stoutest oak shall decay at length ; 
 Thy years glide on like a tale that s told ; 
 With each fleeting breath thou art growing old ! 
 
 A storm ! The sky is becoming dark ; 
 There s danger now for that poor, frail bark, 
 
THE VOYAGE OF LIFE. 239 
 
 For the winds, like demons, arc howling by, 
 And the lightnings burst from an angry sky. 
 Where now are thy boasted sword and spear ? 
 Thy shield and helmet ? What ! dost thou fear ? 
 Art thou not lord of this lower earth 
 A king, by the vested rights of birth ? 
 Stretch forth thy hand by thy royal will, 
 And say to the tempest : " Peace ! be still 1" 
 
 Ah, weak, indeed, is the might of man, 
 When it wars gainst a heav n-appointed plan ; 
 And his highest light e er in science won 
 Is a glow-worm s ray to the burning sun ! 
 
 The storm is over. With humbler mien, 
 Now seated his wife and his son between, 
 The husband speaks of the dangers past, 
 And points to the Ocean, unknown and vast, 
 Where Faith discerneth the starry isles, 
 And Welcome weareth eternal smiles. 
 Husband and father ! mother and wife ! 
 These are the ties of this lower life ; 
 These are the links of a golden chain 
 Which wrong and sorrow, and sin and pain, 
 Cannot wholly tarnish the links of love 
 Which bind on earth as in heaven above. 
 
 Old age comes on, and approaching night 
 Casts a sadd ning shade over all things bright, 
 Save the rosy tinge of the glowing West, 
 Which seems the smile of some land more blest. 
 
240 THE VOYAGE OF LIFE. 
 
 The son now stands by the father s side ; 
 From a page illumed, as they onward glide, 
 He reads of a prisoner by Death set free 
 Of the life beyond of the Yet-to-Be. 
 
 Bear up, brave heart ! it is almost o er, 
 For near appeareth a welcome shore, 
 A pleasant land where the roses twine 
 A land which floweth with milk and wine. 
 Though the chill of death steals o er thee now, 
 A holy halo enwreathes thy brow ; 
 And, waiting above thee, an angel band 
 Wave the oriflamme of the Better Land ; 
 They beckon thy soul from its house of clay, 
 And wait to bear thee away away. 
 
 The sun has set, and the night appears. 
 
 A widowed mother I see in tears ; 
 
 O er a lifeless body she bends in prayer, 
 
 And saith, " Ere long I shall join him there 1" 
 
 Her finger points to the homes on high, 
 
 In the tearless realms of the upper sky. 
 
NEW "YEAR DAY. 241 
 
 NEW YEAR DAY. JAN. IST, 1863. 
 
 A NOTHER year is ended, and the glare 
 _Zju Of burning cities lights the lurid sky. 
 
 Another year of carnage ! Where, 0, where 
 
 Is HeavVs avenging hand ? Great God, draw 
 nigh, 
 
 List to the widow s wail ; the orphan s cry ; 
 
 Give speedy answer to a people s prayer ; 
 
 Send forth Thy rainbow-promise from on high ; 
 
 Make Sorrow s children Thy supernal care ; 
 Give, gracious Giver, give for thou alone canst 
 spare. 
 
 II. 
 
 Joy bells are sounding ! This is New Year s day, 
 Flags flutter gaily in the wanton breeze ; 
 Proud martial notes discourse across the way, 
 And victor shouts are heard on land and seas. 
 These are War s triumphs ! These not only 
 
 these, 
 
 But blood, and desolation, and distress, 
 And tales of terror, such as well might freeze 
 The currents of young life. O, who can bless 
 The fearful might of war, or welcome its caress ? 
 
242 NEW YEAR DAY. 
 
 III. 
 
 Time was when Commerce thronged our busy 
 
 streets ; 
 
 When Labor toiled for the rewards of peace ; 
 When every sea was whitened with the fleets 
 That brought or bore away our golden fleece. 
 But with war s triumphs those of Commerce cease. 
 The bugle s note has drowned the hum of trade. 
 " Business suspended" means a sad decrease 
 Of all life s comforts. How pure home joys fade 
 When men for vengeance have through blood 
 
 to wade ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 Come, gentle Peace, come back to us again ; 
 Come in thy old and well-beloved guise ; 
 Come with the glories of thy happy reign ; 
 Come with the laws which freemen ever prize ; 
 Come as an answer to a people s cries ; 
 Come with the power to shield and to restrain : 
 Thy laws are love, thy counsels ever wise, 
 And though thou never canst restore the slain, 
 There s healing in thy voice a balm for every pain. 
 
 v. 
 
 Sorrow has draped our garments with its weeds ; 
 May joy again its blessed brightness bring. 
 From gaping wounds our stricken country bleeds; 
 Let peace unending from the carnage spring. 
 
NEW YEAR DAY. 243 
 
 New trees shall blossom and new birds shall sing 
 Above the cold graves of the buried Years ; 
 Then to the lessons of the past we ll cling, 
 Washing away our errors with our tears ; 
 Seeking the Faith which guides, the Hope sublime 
 which cheers. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Then MERRY NEW YEAR S to the people all, 
 Though merriment is sadly out of place, 
 When o er our land descends a bloody pall, 
 Shading the forms of stateliness and grace. 
 Look to the Future : By Hope s day-star trace 
 A horoscope in lines of living light, 
 And, ere the Past its record can erase, 
 Another sun shall rise, so purely bright 
 That all the land shall say It is no longer night ! 
 
244 A POETICAL BOUQUET OF THE UNITED STATES, 
 
 A POETICAL BOUQUET OF THE 
 UNITED STATES. 
 
 Alphabetically Arranged. 
 ALABAMA. 
 
 ALA alas ! fair Alabama stands, 
 A crownless queen amid her fertile lands ; 
 While her fond river murmurs, " Here we rest !" * 
 A barbed arrow rankles in her breast. 
 
 ARKANSAS. 
 
 Ark of a people s hope, brave Arkansas, 
 Thy fabled "tooth-pick" is no longer law; 
 But thy strong arm and earnest might shall prove 
 A land s redemption and the shield of love. 
 
 CALIFORNIA. 
 
 Come, California, all thy wealth unfold : 
 Those streams are wine ; those rocks are virgin gold. 
 Prolific Nature in some partial hour 
 Bestowed on thee her fairest, richest dower. 
 
 * " Here we rest," is the signification of the Indian word 
 Alabama. 
 
A POETICAL BOUQUET OF THE UNITED STATES. 245 
 
 COLORADO. 
 
 A maid among the mountains, fair and strong : 
 Hail, Colorado ! Unto thee belong 
 The soul that thrills ; the eye whose liquid fire 
 Can burn in hate or kindle soft desire. 
 
 CONNECTICUT. 
 
 Con me this riddle : Canst connect I cut 
 With making wooden nutmegs ? Aye. Then shut 
 Thy double-bladed knife, and let thy pride 
 Point to what Art has with thy name allied. 
 
 DELAWARE. 
 
 Speak out, fair State ! and make the dell aware 
 That thou, in all thy modest worth, art there. 
 Through thy calm courts soft echoes faintly swell, 
 Like memories which moan in ocean s shell. 
 
 FLORIDA. 
 
 Fair, florid, flowery, Florida appears. 
 Unending summer zones her glowing years, 
 While the fresh fountains of unfading youth 
 Flow from their depths to pledge her love and 
 truth. 
 
 * There seems to be some question whether Colorado is a 
 State or not, but that is not at all surprising. We have some 
 eccentric individuals among us who deny that Louisiana is a 
 State. 
 
246 A POETICAL BOUQUET OF THE UNITED STATES. 
 GEORGIA. 
 
 Gay, gallant, great ! let Georgia arise, 
 Earnest in effort and in action wise. 
 Her fields are rich with nature s choicest stores, 
 And all her hills are veined with golden ores. 
 
 ILLINOIS. 
 
 O er thy broad prairies peace and plenty reign ; 
 And milk and honey, golden fields of grain, 
 And flocks and herds are thine, proud Illinois : 
 God make thee great, and crown thy homes with 
 Joy I 
 
 INDIANA. 
 
 If in Diana, of Ephesian fame, 
 Were " truth and honor," worthy of the name, 
 What words of praise can tell in fitting guise 
 Of Indiana, great and fair and wise ? 
 
 IOWA. 
 
 Proud Iowa, thy children s love of thee 
 Is kin to that which Yenice gave the sea. 
 In minds, in lands, in men, in love, in hate ; 
 Thou peerless must appear great mong the great ! 
 
 KANSAS. 
 
 Cradled in strife ; bleeding at every vein ; 
 The stars looked down upon thee in thy pain, 
 And heav n decreed that thy fresh blood should be 
 Cemented in the seal of Liberty. 
 
A POETICAL BOUQUET OF THE UNITED STATES. 24 7 
 KENTUCKY. 
 
 Brave are thy sons, thy daughters pure and 
 
 bright, 
 
 O, loyal land of liberty and light ! 
 The laurel and the cypress both are thine, 
 And e en thy Boone and "Bourbon" are divine. 
 
 LOUISIANA. 
 
 " Sweets to the sweet !" Let Louisiana rise 
 And claim from rival hands proud beauty s 
 
 prize : 
 
 Fair as a Seraph s dream ; e en through her tears 
 She shows the trust that wins, the smile that 
 
 cheers. 
 
 MARYLAND. 
 
 From the dark bosom of Potomac s wave 
 A wail comes forth, as voices from a grave : 
 Weep, Maryland bereav d : for tears like thine 
 Cleanse like the flow of sacrificial wine. 
 
 MAINE. 
 
 Timber and tonnage ; sailors and the sea ; 
 Lakes, rivers, mountains these belong to thee : 
 Work to thy sons is worship conquest gain 
 For wise men are those " Maniacs " of Maine. 
 
248 A POETICAL BOUQUET OF THE UNITED STATES. 
 MASSACHUSETTS. 
 
 Now by the mass, old Massachusetts stands, 
 " Hub" aud exampler to all other lands. 
 Strong in her faith, her learning and her might, 
 She kindles quarrels and bids others "fight 1" 
 
 MICHIGAN. 
 
 The wooing waters claim thee as their bride ; 
 Hound thy bold shores the gallant navies glide ; 
 And flood and field, rejoicing in thy fame, 
 Become the heralds of an honored name. 
 
 MINNESOTA. 
 
 Pride of the great Northwest I In hill and dale, 
 In flocks and herds, in streams which never fail, 
 In grand old forests thou hast wealth untold, 
 With health and freedom, dearer far than gold I 
 
 MISSISSIPPI. 
 
 Gallant in war, a conqueror in peace : 
 Thy flossy staple, more than "golden fleece," 
 Brings riches to the world. No brighter sun 
 Than thine e er beamed on glories to be won. 
 
 MISSOURI. 
 
 " Fixed as the centre." Throned o er giant streams 
 Which course a continent. What mighty themes 
 Before thy seers and statists proudly rise, 
 Wooing thee on to deeds of high emprise. 
 
A POETICAL BOUQUET OF THE UNITED STATES. 249 
 
 NEBRASKA.* 
 
 Where rocky mountains, spined against the sky, 
 The thunder s rage and lightning s flash defy, 
 There, laved by restless rivers, thou art seen, 
 Making the wilds rejoice, the deserts green ! 
 
 NEVADA. 
 
 Land of the snowy peaks and flowing streams : 
 No fabled Plutus mocks thee in thy dreams, 
 For all thy hills with argent wealth abound, 
 And e en thy echoes have a silv ry sound. 
 
 NORTH CAROLINA. 
 
 The miserere moans among thy pines, 
 While tears of amber flow. These are the signs 
 Alike of thy great wealth and deep distress : 
 Pine not,")" proud State, but onward, upward 
 press ! 
 
 NEW HAMPSHIRE. 
 
 New Hampshire, hail ! fixed on thy granite base 
 There s stern defiance in thy rugged face. 
 Thy children smite the rock and they are fed ; 
 Thy ice is more than wine, thy stones than bread ? 
 
 * Though Nebraska has not yet been fully admitted into 
 the family of States, " an enabling act" has been passed in 
 her case, and she cannot be "kept out in the cold" much 
 longer. 
 
 t The printer s devil insisted, in this instance, that " not " 
 should be printed " knot." We, however, resisted him, and 
 Bent the k off kiting. 
 
250 A POETICAL^BOUQUET OF THE UNITED STATES. 
 NEW JERSEY. 
 
 0, Commonwealth supreme ! In sovereign might, 
 Thou standest proudly in the nation s sight : 
 " Fair play," thy motto ; thy abhorrence, debt ; 
 Thy cherish d self thou never canst forget. 
 
 NEW YORK. 
 
 Imperial State ! From Erie to the sea 
 Thy arms are stretched ; thy sisters bow to thee. 
 Great in thy commerce ; great in wealth and fame : 
 A thousand echoes syllable thy name. 
 
 OHIO. 
 
 Thy beauteous river, in its liquid flow, 
 Still chants thy name, and calls on friend and foe 
 To join in the great anthem of thy praise, 
 And bind around thy brow the poet s bays. 
 
 OREGON. 
 
 Where rolPd the Oregon and not " a sound 
 Save its own dashing," stirred the deep profound, 
 Now busy life and smiling fields appear, 
 And golden harvests crown the gladsome year. 
 
 PENNSYLVANIA. 
 
 Land of the peaceful Penn I thy fruitful soil 
 Spreads o er rich beds of coal and streams of oil ; 
 The Union s keystone and thy people s pride ; 
 Greater thy Penn than sword and spear allied I 
 
A POETICAL BOUQUET OF THE UNITED STATES. 251 
 
 RHODE ISLAND. 
 
 Bijou of States ! Tis said thy soldier sons 
 Must seek out larger lands to try their guns. 
 Isled in thy great success thou stand st alone, 
 For skill and thrift have claimed thee as their own. 
 
 SOUTH CAROLINA. 
 
 Haughty and proud, the seared "Palmetto" 
 
 stands, 
 Mantled with "Southern Rights." The high 
 
 commands 
 
 Of her dead statesman claim obedience yet : 
 What she once learns she never can forget. 
 
 TENNESSEE. 
 
 Tender and true ! I greet thee, Tennessee ! 
 Thy sorrow makes thee sacred. Who shall be 
 The bard to sing thy epic ? Words of fire, 
 To tell thy wrongs, should flash along his lyre ! 
 
 TEXAS. 
 
 Land of broad meadows, corn, and oil, and 
 wine * 
 
 Land of the neighing steed and grazing kine 
 Land of fruit, flowers and ores on man below, 
 No fairer heritage could heaven bestow. 
 
252 A POETICAL BOUQUET OF THE UNITED STATES. 
 VERMONT. 
 
 Crowned with their coronal of living green, 
 Thy mountain heights smile on the vales between ; 
 Fair, happy vales, where love and freedom reign, 
 Though winter storms should whiten all the plain. 
 
 VIRGINIA. 
 
 Mother of States and statesmen. Heroes tread 
 Through thy historic halls. Around thy head 
 A glory grandly circles. Hail to thee ! 
 Great in thy past great shall thy future be I 
 
 WEST VIRGINIA. 
 
 Child, dissevered from a noble line, 
 In thy new temple dost not sometimes pine 
 For the old hearth the dear familiar ties 
 Which, at the thought of home, should ever rise ? 
 
 WISCONSIN. 
 
 Thy woods and prairies in their summer pride 
 Have all the grace and beauty of a bride. 
 Brave in thy sons and fruitful iu thy soil, 
 Thine are the triumphs of successful toil. 
 
 TIMES OFFICE, New Orleans, 1866. 
 
TO-DAY. 253 
 
 TO-DAY. 
 
 FROM the tomb where buried ages 
 Slumber on in calm repose, 
 Come the voices of the sages, 
 
 Freed from all their weight of woes. 
 Theirs are no sad words of warning ; 
 
 To our ears they seem to say : 
 " Hail the dawn ! another morning 
 Ushers in a brighter day !" 
 
 Hail the dawn ! A glory rises 
 
 From the brow of bard and seer : 
 Still the world is full of prizes ; 
 
 Life is still a thing most dear : 
 Let it not be clogged and fettered 
 
 By dead chronicles and creeds ; 
 Waiting souls are only bettered 
 
 By high thoughts and noble deeds. 
 
 But high thoughts and deeds to measure, 
 Lower standards we must know ; 
 
 Fondest, keenest thrills of pleasure 
 Are akin to pain and woe ; 
 
254 TO-DAY. 
 
 Tears of joy and tears of sorrow 
 From the self same liquid eves 
 
 Flow at will ; then who would borrow 
 Trouble from o erclouded skies ? 
 
 What though from the tree of knowledge 
 
 Bitter fruit may sometimes fall, 
 Where s the teacher in his college 
 
 Who can promise good to all ? 
 Good and evil grow together j 
 
 Yice is only virtue s foil ; 
 Stormy winds in wintry weather 
 
 Do not summer glories spoil. 
 
 Let us, then, with march progressive, 
 
 Bravely t wards the goal advance ; 
 Worthy toil is not oppressive : 
 
 Raise the banner ! poise the lance I 
 All around, the pregnant present 
 
 Calls us from our childish play; 
 Teacher, thinker, peer and peasant, 
 
 Aid us in our work to-day ! 
 
COMPENSATION. 255 
 
 COMPENSATION. 
 
 THE earth is lying, green and fair, beneath 
 God s eternal smile, 
 But cries discordant pulse along the air from 
 
 hill and wold ; 
 And who are these, the struggling hosts, that 
 
 would our shrines defile, 
 And sell the birthright of the free for merest 
 dross of gold ? 
 
 These elder brothers are : they claim a right 
 
 divine to rule ; 
 On covenants of selfishness they set the seal of 
 
 blood ; 
 Unthinking swords and bayonets are teachers in 
 
 their school ; 
 
 Their argosies of privilege float o er a purple 
 flood. 
 
 Might makes thdr right. All who oppose are 
 
 traitors and accurs d, 
 
 And all who meekly wear the yoke are " loyal 
 men and true." 
 
256 COMPENSATION. 
 
 With bold presumption they would have all na 
 ture s laws reversed, 
 
 And make the many everywhere the vassals of 
 the few. 
 
 " Seek out the weak : let them be taxed, while 
 
 we th e strong divide 
 
 The honors and the profits, which are our un 
 doubted right." 
 Such are the words of arrogance with which, in 
 
 heartless pride, 
 They issue cruel edicts and in selfishness unite. 
 
 But still the world moves grandly on, and Time, 
 
 the tester, tries 
 Whate er is built on high resolves whate er is 
 
 mean arid low 
 He separates with potent art, the foolish from the 
 
 wise, 
 
 And gives to Truth his crown of light, to error 
 only woe. 
 
 The petty triumphs of to-day may be to-morrow s 
 
 ban ; 
 The failures which we so lament may prove a 
 
 source of joy. 
 
 Man s wisdom is but foolishness. In Heaven s ap 
 pointed plan 
 
 Life s mystic problem we evolve we build and 
 we destroy. 
 
COMPENSATION. 257 
 
 What though contending millions meet in battle 
 
 on the plain, 
 And fiercely fight, and fiercely hate, and pite- 
 
 ously bleed ? 
 The false cannot be made the true by hecatombs 
 
 of slain, 
 ]STor can successes sanctify a base, ignoble deed. 
 
 Though all to human eyes seem dark, Jehovah 
 
 rules unseen, 
 And what appears as wrong and hate, may 
 
 prove but notes of praise, 
 Soon as we reach the blissful fields of never-fading 
 
 green, 
 Where floods of uncreated light illume earth s 
 
 darksome ways. 
 
 TIMES OFFICE, June, 1866. 
 
258 LINES. 
 
 LINES. 
 
 [On receiving a pair of eye-glasses from a friend.] 
 
 NOW by my beard, this is a goodly sight ! 
 Transparent crystals set iu frames of gold: 
 Through them, untaxed, the soft translucent light 
 
 Comes to our eyes. A miracle ! Behold 
 The dim, dull, clouded page grows clear and bold, 
 Thought s mystic foot-prints gleam forth full arid 
 
 bright, 
 
 As when the jewels in the robe of Night 
 To the rapt gaze of Sibyl are unrolled. 
 
 NEW ORLEANS, October, 1865. 
 
M191S1 
 
 6 
 
 f 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY