399t } THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES ^-yvu&nde't ^U^ri^. 2 THE EMIGRANT A CONTRAST. BY AN OLD ETONIAN. BATH: BINNS AND GOODWIN. LONDON: WHITTAKEE AND CO. bath: printed by BINNS AND GOODWIN. J??/ " This is the process of our love and wisdom To each poor brother that offends against us — Most innocent, perhaps ; and what if guilty ? Is this the only cure 1 Merciful God ! Each pore and natural outlet shrivelled up By ignorance and parching poverty, His energies roll back upon his heart, And stagnate and corrupt, till, changed to poison, They break out on him like a loathsome plague spot. " With other ministrations, thou, Nature, Healest thy wandering and distempered child — Thou pourest on him thy soft influences, Thy sunny hues, fair forms, and breathing sweets ; Thy melodies of woods, and winds, and waters ; Till he relent, and can no more endure To be a jarring and a dissonant thing, Amid the general dance and minstrelsy ; But bursting into tears wins back his way — His angry spirit healed, and harmonized, By the benignant touch of love and beauty." — Coleridye. COO J PBEFACE. u Eternal ego that I am." — Eothen. It will be seen that the dates of this Preface and the succeeding Introduction do not agree. An interval of many months has elapsed since I wrote the latter : in the month of September last, I was compelled to change my residence, and lay aside my pen, owing to a fearful dis- order of the nerves, aggravated by the double excitement of anxiety and writing. VI PREFACE. I recur, I fear rashly, to the task of review- ing, even this little piece, especially as I am obliged to perform it in great haste. When I take from my w riting-desk after this interval, the sheets I am ill-pleased to call my " Poem/' I have an additional trial and mortification to endure — " Look on't again I dare not ! " In reviewing what I have written, with the clair voyance, that even to my debili- tated frame, a little time and change of scene can impart, I am far more ashamed, I confess, of the unfinished, irregular performance I meet with, than of a painful necessity Avhich gave it birth. I cannot alter that which has no form, and is radically ill-done ; strength to begin anew I have not. Under peculiar circumstances, I must offer that to my friends of which I myself little approve ; of which, indeed, 1 am, as a literary performance, perfectly ashamed, and would willingly, most willingly, commit PREFACE. vii these sheets to the flames, did I not at the same time destroy a solitary feeble hope, which I entertain, and have cherished since the time I began them, viz., that they may, possibly, serve me in a manner not depending much on the merit of the composition. A voice from within tells me, that unless I seek a different climate, and immediate relief from the mental pressure I have too long experienced, I cannot hope to brave many more winters with success. It is, at least, a precarious experiment for one with a family to provide for and protect. The demands of the mind and body are imperative ; the former must have its burden speedily removed, and both require to have engagements of a congenial and regular kind, to restore a natural tone to the system. And these advantages must be sought for in a climate, I am told, such as cannot be found in my native land. Vlll PREFACE. I need scarcely add, that I cherish a pros- pective view of Emigration for myself should I survive the ties, weak indeed in number, that now bind me to my Native Land, and providing I should be fortunate enough to obtain the means of doing so. The Author. 4. St. Georges Crescent, Birmingham, Feb.U, 1850. DEDICATION. TO MY MOTHER. ' Tell how her manners, by the world refined, Left all the taint of modish vice behind, And made each charm of polished courts agree With candid truth's simplicity, And uncorrupted innocence." — Lyttletm. My Beloved Parent, Many are the reasons for offering to you the first literary fruits, and probably the last, of a tree shattered and withering ere it blossom. Who but a mother would tolerate, for certainly she could not overlook, the inferiority of this little unfinished performance. a2 X DEDICATION. These little dedicatory courtesies demand an object for their greeting, whom, from their social jjosition, we regard with deference ; say, who can ever hold a place that with me shall command respect and veneration like a mother 1 It is usual, also, to select one within the mystic circle of letters; does not your elegant and classic taste, moulded in all its originality and early fresh- ness, by a scholar who knew no equal* — do not your playful wit and lively fancy, based on accom- plishments as rare and profound as they are delicate and unobtrusive, place you in a position to receive homage far worthier than this, my poor but sincere tribute of reverence and affection. And lastly, I will own, (for you have not taught me, my mother, to regard with nicety the science of empty compliment,) that to you I inscribe my little work because I have scarcely an alternative : scarce another friend have I, in this bleak and howling wilderness, beyond the pale of my domestic lares, to turn to — the stranger's name, to this poor attempt, I dare not seek to attach. To you be it inscribed, and if a tear drop, as doubtless it will, over the sad necessity, that you *' The Author's venerable mother, the object of this dedication, was the favourite and favoured niece of a late distinguished minister of state, contemporary with Fox, Burke, &c. DEDICATION. XI will trace in every line, and which may one day take ine far from my native land ; think only how much less severe, and how much more adapted to the already overwrought spirit of your child, will be the milder species of probation to which he seeks to subject himself for the remainder of his days. Think and believe, as he believes, that, after the severe trials of his past and present life, a new scene, congenial with his feelings and requirements, may be apter for conducting his free spirit to its perfection, fitter for bringing it, under Divine mercy, to such a state as shall ensure it a closer union with your own pure and innocent one hereafter, in realms which shall be changeless and eternal. I am, With faithful love and veneration, Your Son, Cecil. St. Georges Crescent, Feb. 19, 1850. A FEW INTRODUCTORY REMARKS EMIGRATION. ' Give me the hope which sickens not the heart ; Give me the wealth which hath no wings to fly ; Give me the bliss thy visions can impart ; Thy friendship give me warm in poverty." — Scott. " The doubts, the awe, the fears, The pride, of beggary ! " — Milman. If " to be poor " is, in the eyes of the world, a crime — or if, to speak more literally, each action that tends to make us poor, suffers (as surely it does at the hands of man) all the pains and penalties of a deep offence, the care of the community ought to be directed, as in the case of other crimes, to its prevention, and, where this may have been overlooked, the just and merciful will surely, sometimes, recognize a certain claim to com- pensation.* * An old country is too often, in the words of the great Poet : ' ' The tempter ere the accuser of mankind. " XIV INTRODUCTION. Be this as it may, there is no tyranny so great as that which denies men the help to help themselves ! No charity so precious as that which affords it. Emigration to the colonies is now presenting a new and wide field, not less to the philanthropist, than the politician. If we disclaim the J ambition of the impious hero of the "German Legend," to make new bodies, and bestow the breath of life, we may now most piously and hopefully essay to preserve the life, and restore the impaired faculties, originally given by the Great Creator. We have a fair opportunity to heal the break- ing heart, and refresh the wearing-out spirit, of our fellow-creatures — renew, as it were, the exhausted tenure of Existence. Inestimable are all undertakings and provisions, made to assist the voluntary Emigrant, let him be of what class he may. We may begin by considering on the part of those who come forward to assist persons desirous to seek a new home, that they are, in the first place, little exposed to deception in the exercise of their benevo- lence ; secondly, that they need be under little appre- hension of affording a temporary or ineffectual relief ; thirdly, they do not confer that which is likely to prove unsatisfactory to the receiver, with the choice of a new Continent, and its variety, before him, unless his mind be of the weakest and most unstable order ; and lastly, such charity is at no future period likely to assume a character painfully obligatory, where a sensitive and independent spirit is concerned. They who help the Emigrant do not, while they are giving, smother and enthral, by any exaction or stipu- lated contract, the spirit that to be strong should be free, and to be happy must be independent ; on the INTRODUCTION. XV contrary, they revive and call up from its depths the legitimate pride, and latent energy, that shall give currency to genius, and, if we may use the expression, liquidate ability ; they put within his reach material and facilities for the development of every natural gift, in every branch of human excellence and utility. They who help the Emigrant are, indeed, doing good service to their kind, providing a wholesome and natural channel for the energies, a field for the faculties rightly divided between the powers of the body and the mind, a restorative to expiring hope that has no equal — they bestow a boon, such as exists in no other shape. The Emigrant is introduced to that which great Nature herself has prescribed, and for which she has made ample provision in her resources ; he receives a real blessing, where a bequest of countless gold, by itself, would too often be a curse. To the youthful Emigrant it is generally allowed, that a quick and comparatively easy access to independence is presented in the primitive scenes of natural wealth to which he goes — but it should be particularly ob- served, that not to the young alone is this advantage afforded, it is patent equally now in the improved state of some of our colonies with their varied climate, suited to all ages and constitutions, to those considerably advanced in life — and is, in truth, more especially a resource to be esteemed by such persons, because to them, frequently, no other chance of improving an ill condition remains ; years of toil in the mother country, negatived by a succession of adverse circumstances, an early mistake, or necessity in the adoption of a profession, and many common casualties, too often attend a man to the period of middle age, and consign him, in the prime of life, with tender ties around him, XVI INTRODUCTION. to irretrievable ruin. The slightest accident or trip here, in the crowded race, throws him out for ever. To secure an independence, even a competence, to those who inherit nothing to begin with, is a matter of difficulty, always of time. The competition is fearful, and the door is closed comparatively early against un- successful persons in an old country — too many of whom, impatient of the success of others, and despair- ing of their own, are then driven to reckless speculation with the remainder of their little substance, vainly hoping to " fetch up " the lost time ; while too many others are consigned over at once to a fatal despondency. In the new field of enterprise, froni all accounts, it is far otherwise — a man may bring his experience, and acquired steadiness, " to as good a market " as another may bring his physical powers, and his youthful ardour. Time shall shut the door against few who emigrate until they have, at least, provided a suitable shelter for their own grey locks, and secured a provision, or a com- fortable prospect, for their children. The Emigration of the pauper and the labourer has, long since, been cared for, and the system of such is likely to be still improved and extended. The small farmer, the tradesman, and the mechanic — the man of moderate means (to use the language of the public journals), and which is only another name for one of the latter, is each favoured by many, and increasing, facilities. But there remains still a portion of the com- munity, coming properly under none of these heads, struggling more than any other with circumstances beneath a nightmare-position, that causes it to remain unnoticed, composed of men at whose hearts, not un- frequently, a long cherished and ardent desire for exactly such freedom and independence as Emigration INTRODUCTION. XV11 affords, has been for years gnawing like the Promethean vulture — while there is, at the same time, every reason to believe they would be essentially serviceable to the places to which they desire to go. They are chained to the dismal rock of circumstance, by a cobweb fetter, helpless, hopeless, ever unsettled, never resigned. Those I allude to are incapable of classification, and can certainly put forth no tangible plea as a body — though numerous, they cannot be found, each rather shuns, than essays, to seek the philanthropist ; and those with whom they are connected, being acquainted only with the theory of distress, are more likely, thoughtlessly, or selfishly, to dissuade them from the step than to assist them. They will never be relieved till some voice is raised from among themselves — and then, I fear, it can be but partially ; with few exceptions, they are dumb in the matter of appeal, and die, like the wolf, in silence, after every effort has been made to help themselves. The subjects of this seeming enigma are what the " Times" Journal, in an excellent article on the subject some time since, has designated the " genus Gentleman" poor gentlemen. A large number of well-educated and enlightened persons might be included, who only have small unavailable incomes, derived from situations in which a life interest is all, and which are fixed in amount, and confine the holder to the spot ; but it is my object to restrict myself to the notice of men of un- questionably good birth, and of high connections. There is no order of men in the land exempt from the changes that have taken place within our recollec- tion, and which are daily making evident, among many good, some very ill, effects on society. It must be admitted, that the highest and most affluent connec- XY111 INTRODUCTION. tions can scarcely now, if disposed to do so, provide for the many that may lay a claim to relationship — an impossibility which the harder and more selfish heads of families will be ready enough to admit as an excuse for withdrawing entirely from the attempt. Now a high connection (and by no means let this fact be lost sight of) is no recommendation, at least, not an efficient one ; on the contrary, it stands much in the light of any candidate for the stranger's sympathy, and inevitably defeats the applicant, should necessity compel him to become one, having laid aside his scruples. He is likely to be accounted, without much reflection or inquiry, as one who prefers an undue claim ; he himself, at least, feels that he is laying himself open to the suspicion of being an unworthy object, when he declares he is unprovided for. In short, to be in difficulties, well connected, and deserving, is a position seldom, if ever, recognized as sufficiently probable to deserve attention and inquiry. Small unavailable means, which place the possessor beyond starvation, and preclude, possibly, a shabby personal appearance abroad, render his case totally beyond all hope of making itself heard under the above circumstances. It must not be forgotten that the dis- proportion between the demand and the supply of the means to live, places thousands in a false position, to quarrel with which stamps them, too often unfairly, as unsettled and discontented persons. How many unfortunate instances can the profession of the Church alone supply, to say nothing of other crowded callings. Liking, efficiency, even conscience, are set aside in the (misnamed) choice ; happiness is sacri- ficed, and the community injured in its most grave relations. INTRODUCTION. XIX In cases where a legitimate ambition, and a natural love of enterprise, at least of progress, call for favour and encouragement, parents and guardians are com- pelled to impose often a monotonous, health-destroying, distasteful, heart-breaking avocation, which lasts to the end of life, and cuts it short. Let us, however, pause : the stream of misery for one who knows its depths, grows fearfully wide, and were we to dilate, would soon become too strong for the con- templation of a feeling mind. I own, I am fearful of being drawn into its current by further digression. Let it be granted, that many gentlemen by birth do certainly hold situations almost insupportable to them, unsuitable, not in one sense, but every sense, to their character, natural, hereditary, and acquired, and to all their early associations. The means they derive from them, enable them but to live " from hand to mouth," as it is vulgarly termed ; they cannot with a family dependent on them for daily subsistence, " throw up " their situations, or neglect them for a moment, for any project with the least uncertainty attached to it ; they cannot "layby" sufficient money out of their "earnings" to render decent emigration practicable, nor can they carry their means of subsistence with them. They must drudge on, with little hope, and that beneath the daily burden of the knowledge, that their children's means of life and honour are hanging by a thread, alas ! ever rendered in such instances, more than commonly slender ; that the wife with whom they have shared so many scenes of privation and sorrow, may, with these children, be the next moment consigned to such mercy as a crowded world, itself struggling and selfish, will afford : and all this wretchedness, they are now conscious, might be so easily and quickly exchanged XX INTRODUCTION. for a fair chance of peace and plenty, such, as their inferiors are every day and hour being put in possession of. Where is suffering like the mental suffering of the poor gentleman 1 Now, if we consider in the next place, how far this character is suited for Emigration, the conclusion is satisfactory : in the first place, few men of good family have been turned adrift, without the chance which a good education of a general kind affords, and the early opportunity of laying the groundwork of liberal and enlightened views on important subjects, has generally been theirs. Most gentlemen's sons are born and bred in the country, love its scenes, its avocations, its sports, and maintain an easy and influential intercourse with the rustic labourer, such, indeed, as no other persons, however wealthy, are able to exercise. And, thirdly, if numbered among the unfortunate, they have already passed the iron ordeal of adversity, in a degree and manner unknown to their inferiors, and can esti- mate well what the nature of endurance is ; for we do not pretend that Emigration is without its hardships. True gentlemen can always command habits of prac- tical efficiency and helpfulness.* Surely (where difficulties are to be met by an active opposition,) their high spirit and intelligence, tempered in the furnace of adversity, and rendered sufficiently subservient to prudential considerations, without meanness, is very much the material that is * It might almost be asserted that the gentleman is more useful than the capitalist. "Nothing hurts a new settlement so much as the profuseness of gentlemen (query capitalist) emigrants. They not only injure them- selves, but those who depend 1 ipon them for employment and subsistence. It destroys that energy which is the life and soul of a colony." — Sidney's Emigrant's Journal. INTRODUCTION. XXI required in a colony, to leaven the mass of practical industry, possessed only of a limited and technical knowledge of its appropriate calling. They are surely called for to direct, control, and elevate these new social bodies, in which it is fair to suppose, from previous disadvantages, a selfish short-sightedness must more or less prevail, causing the many to overlook, in the intensity of their individual pursuits after gain, all superior methods and more comprehensive schemes, for developing the resources of a country, and obtaining fully the very advantages which are coveted ; they would be likely to give more consideration to matters that bear upon the polity of a new country, and which affect, possibly, the prosperity of some mighty nation to future unseen ages. The comprehensive glance of the liberal soul, and prophetic intellect, can alone compass these views, or be expected to regard them ; among these men, some such are at least more likely to be found. At a period when the colonies seem, in many instances, inclined to dispense with the guiding hand, and delegated wisdom of the mother-country, no party views should render any of us so selfish as not to wish to behold them in utrvmque paratas, how can they be better provided for than by a system of higher colonization ? Not that such influence is likely to precipitate, but rather retard, the result which any mania for separation threatens; in either case it is our duty to respect, and not under- value the interests of what we have been accustomed to call "our dependencies," while we are relieving the Mother Country. There is every reason that such methods should be devised and acted upon, as will promote the Emigration of gentlemen in the true old-fashioned sense of the word, XXU INTRODUCTION. as a foundation for a superior system of general colonization. What more might be done in the matter of grants and assignments of land, in our vast territorial posses- sions, is not for me to say ; Colonial Government is a deep subject about shoi-tly to occupy the Houses of Parliament.* It is enough for me to express the hope that these lands will be put within the reach of those who are worthy, whose claims are considerable, and whose necessities are urgent. That Government and individuals will furnish facilities, and dispense with any restrictions at home or abroad, that may impede this desirable end, and place no impediments in the way of persons holding offices and the like, but in every form enable them to negotiate and make such arrangements openly and legally, as may forward their emancipation, while they afford, perhaps, opportunities for some who may prefer to remain at home. Some share in our colonial empire, may be considered almost due to those who have long paid a heavy tax- ation during their prosperity, to secure and maintain these possessions ; indeed, to be a member of the community, and an Englishman, seems a title to a free share, at least, in an English colony. Let us express an earnest hope that friends, guardians, and near connections will endeavour, and not refuse, to meet the views of those in whose welfare they are * About the time these sheets were going to the press, the speech of Lord J. Russell on colonization made its appearance; and his views in favour of superior colonization seem most especially to coincide with these few remarks ; indeed, the general opinion expressed in all places, and in all shapes, seem in favour of it. " I do not mean to say," remarks Lord John Russell, "that in some cases, and under particular circumstances, assistance should not be given by the Government." (Hear, hear.) — Times Journal. INTRODUCTION. XX111 supposed to have an interest, should they be inclined to emigrate. The object of this little Poem (a brief and feeble effort of the Muse) is to throw forth a contrast between the Old Country and our Colonies, as it affects the poor and unfortunate. It is quite an unfinished little piece— let it escape criticism — let its imperfections be overlooked, as it has been written at intervals, in sick- ness, and deep depression of spirits. Glad, indeed, should I be to find, that while endeavouring to serve myself, I had opened any fountain of healing waters for my deeply-to-be-pitied fellow-sufferers ; for it is not my object to conceal that I am of the class to which I have alluded. If this mountain of preliminary ob- servations bring forth but a mouse (the Poem), may it be such a one as may gnaw at least one mesh of the deadly net, cause the subject to be taken up by those whose liberality will acknowledge the Truth, and whose power may supply, in some degree, an antidote. " Truth first or last shall every cause ensue, And all resistance quell." Tavistock Street, Bedford ; July 16, 1849. ERRATUM. Page 7, line 13, for "wish," read "course.' THE EMIGKANT. PART I. " Jtagnas inter opes iuops." Horace. 'Ah, happy hills ! ah, pleasing shades ! ah, fields beloved in vain ! " Gray. EMIGRANT LOQUITUR. Oh, Grief destroy me not ! My winged Thought, Avhich once was wont to soar, Lies on the Dead Sea's shore, "Where things to bitter ashes turn, and rot E'en to the inmost core. * * It is assumed, that apples on the Dead Sea's shores turn to bitter ashes in the mouth, and that o'er that lake of lead, wing of bird soareth not, but to fall paralyzed and fluttering to the surface. THE EMIGRANT. Still hope dies not, but sleepeth, when at last This tyranny is past,* She shall awake a giant from her sleep, She, buried deep, Wells in the choked up fountain, to the end She may not break nor bend. The song is for the blithe and gay, Or pensive hour may wile away, Let Melancholy own its charm, (Deep waters sleep beneath a calm;) But hearts that feel, and long have felt Low thoughted Care, will rarely melt, Such straggle doomed to jar aud fret, Like brutes made captive in the net, Yet not the less repining, ache, And if they yield, 'tis but to break. My brave old countiy, thou art free I And fresh and fair, but not for me, Thy gardens blush, thy pastures smile. Thy silver streams wind many a mile, Thy yellow harvests, bending bright, Each season wave within my sight, All Nature yields, but not for me, Her Plenty and Variety ! * Psalm lvii. 1. PART I. In many a sweet sequestered dell, Thy happy, free-born children dwell, Beneath mild beams that "love to play, Not wound," as wit in poet's lay.'"" If nights of beauty, somewhat few And far between, descend in dew, And cold the pale moon sails on high, Less frequent o'er the lover's sigh, He breathes farewell, with less of pain, Or fear, to meet his love again. No fatal earthquake lurks beneath, Or hot volcano's lurid breath, Uncertain ills, that, ere the morn, May leave the Southron heart forlorn Rich woods wave green on many a hill, These woods of thine, I love them still ! Where hollow voice of Echo deep Rolls murmuring on, and sinks to sleep Beneath the calm, deep, holy shade, That seems to consecrate the glade. But woodland, valley, sheaf, and stream, To me fade dim, as in a dream ! Long doth fond Fancy seek to dwell On scenes, perchance, she loved too well, * "And wit that loves to play, not wound." 4 THE EMIGRANT. Till in the mirage * which she gives, A painful, hectic picture lives, + The lagging spirits slow respond, To meet the will, a task beyond Their waning strength, 'tis then we know The first torpedo touch of Woe ! The native occupation gone, The barren heart is turned to stone. 'Tis hard to learn the rich, and rare, But stern, philosophy of Care, Deep troubling, ere it cleanse the rill From which our purest thoughts distil ; X The jewel in the reptile's head, Hath surely found a loathsome bed ; § s See Dr. Blair's Sermon iii. "On the Improvement of Time." p. 51. t Everybody is familiar with the descriptions of this phenomenon. I have not one at hand for reference, but the characterizing features which I remember, are the reversed position of beautiful scenery, objects turned topsy-turvy, the fragments of confused images, now blending, now distinct, like the dissolving rainbow; or, to use an artificial com- parison, like the dissolving views of the artist in their state of transition ; but above all, though perhaps, least correctly I think I remember the heightened, morbid brilliancy of hues. t Heb. xii. 11. 2 Cor. vii. 11. § " Sweet are the uses of Adversity, Which, like a toad, ugly and venomous, Wears yet a precious jewel in his head." Shakespeare, As You Like it. Act II, Scene I. PART 1. Affliction, may thy uses be Thus sweet in their severity ! The instinct to enjoy, survives The means, and food, by which it thrives, But not the hoarded, honied store Of joys, long fled to rise no more ; We fondly doat upon the past, And ponder o'er it to the last. Conception, awful to confess, The creature in its loneliness ; Oh, helpless, all-dependent state ! Evade, avert, control our fate, We may not, with the paltry prize The world withholds, our feeling dies. Sure 'tis no crime, when we compare Our barren lot with others' share, To sigh, shall sorrow be a sin, If with these gifts, the gifts within Are lost, and Nature's perfect plan Is changed for that of selfish man 1 We ask no more than tends to give Scope for the human soul to live ! Enough to lift and cheer the mind To leave its littleness behind. b THE EMIGRANT. My course once free as on the wave, Now seems to tend as o'er a grave ; Of late, with sad dejected pace, The highway's dusty line I trace ; Or, if the ancient charm of woods, And pleasant meads, and toppling floods, Instinctive prompt, and I transgress, For love of their sweet loneliness, The hurried step, the timid start, The stealthy glance, the beating heart, Betray exaggerated awe, The dread of violated law ; Lest in the breezes, once so sweet, I hear the hireling's surly threat.* * A writer on Emigration says, speaking of the English rustic. " Who is, indeed, in the country, but not of it ; who cannot leave the high road for the field without a trespass ; or kill a hare without transportation ; or eat the grain he sowed and reaped without a felony; or pluck fruit from a tree, or a flower from a shrub, without a petty larceny." There is enough of truth in this statement to lead us to reflect on the exaggerated forms of hardship, which the rights of property induce unavoidably, in an old country : and enough of bitterness, and of what cannot be called fairness in the statement, to open our eyes to the more important feature of their consequences. The Author, though he has long since sacrificed the pursuit of field sports to a sense of duty, under ordinary circumstances, has been strongly recommended to recur, in moderation, to an early acquired taste, for the sake of health. In no county in which he has found himself a PATIT I. i Time was, when I have sought the glen, A man, amid my fellow-men, As bold in heart, as true in limb, To stem the flood, the bill to climb. With eye as keen, as firm a hand As they who now possess the land ; Full well loved I to mount the steed, With glossy coat, and hoof of speed, On his broad back exulting sit, Press the light rein, and suasive bit, (As wily sophists bend the will By subtle wit, and moral skill), 80 featly that my *pah should seem, C ime kind people enjoin content, who have learnt only the " theory " of distress, and believe themselves supported by Scriptural doctrine. This opinion is repeated in the form of note, lest it should be overlooked. The conduct of those who stay behind is of great consequence in the matter of emigration. It often deters many, where it should not ; and, still worse, it sends others forth with an ill-digested drag upon the con- science and feelings, which unsettles and enervates them at a future period, when circumstances call for undivided and unshaken energy. 12 THE EMIGRANT. Slow to the timid, to the brave A pang that hurls him to his grave. * Is it to work the will Divine, Abject to yield, and helpless pine ? Interpret not in such a sense His Word as wrecks our innocence ; Such tyrant law He never gave As marks His noblest woi'k a slave ; As makes our poisoned hearts confess A task in love. Too deep distress Destroys ; it goads the frenzied mind, Till impious speculations blind Assail the conscience, which should guide, Not turn our patient hopes aside ; Grief sears the spirit that should pray, And steals our peaceful faith away, t Oh, Thou ! beneath whose watchful eye The strife proceeds, our spirits try As seemeth best, but not as they Who in temptation fall away ; Let us, with strength however small, While earth hath work, obey the call ; ' The Author's father, reduced, by a life of severe trials, to a state of disease, was snatched away by an awfully sudden death. t When the heart once again " promises what the fancy draws," let not friends dissuade the trial; "let not their precious balms break our heads." (Ps. cxli.) PART I. 13 The cold encouragement we meet Shall teach us to defy defeat. If friends are few and slow to cheer, Oh ! let us turn to those most dear ; Till Pity wrings the aching breast, To see the face we love the best Grow pallid, and, with haggard eye, Force the faint smile, to meet our sigh : That pang of pity shall impart A strength to the indignant heart, With stubborn will the foe to meet, Nor seek from ills a base retreat ; Who struo'irles with the world must throw The scabbard to the winds. Who fights The sneaking tyrant for his rights, For life, must weary not, nor faint, But onward press, like tortured saint, Till from each point the foe shall fly, Or he, o'ermatched, resisting, die. We battle not as they who yield Their service in the crimson field ; We battle not as they who fight Their brother, for some selfish right. The prize we reach, our fullest gain Shall give none other loss or pain ; The trophy of our best success Is one the merciful might bless ; 14 THE EMIGRANT. Our standard one the hand of love Might consecrate, the meek -eyed dove •Surmount ; yet soldier never bled With heavier helm upon his head ; We war with circumstance ! The brave Shall earn a hope beyond the grave. And here, oh ! let me pause awhile To gather strength from thy sweet smile, My daughter. Courage for the strife To nerve the arm that guards thy life. Fate early marked thee with her brand, And deeply laid her heavy hand On thee ; and, with a sad eclipse (Ere speech scarce murmured from thy lips) The precious faculty of sight Reduced,* and threatened total night. Patient and dutiful, as fair, Oh ! never shalt thou lack thy share Of love from one while he can fill The void, and mitigate the ill. It seems as though (oh ! may it be) The Chastener's will assigned to thee Thy portion, which should early fall In one sad sacrifice ; for all, * The Author's only daughter, when a very young child, lost the sight of the left eye. PART I. 15 That tears thee from the world apart Shall wed thee to thy father's heart, A broken gift, but not the less Prized that it claims thy tenderness. The journey is not long, my child, Through this bleak wilderness and wild, Ere cease the wicked to molest, And weary spirits are at rest, Where burning lids find tears, and they By angel hands are wiped away ; There, with united souls of love, Fit denizens of realms above, May Peace and Light eternal find The broken-hearted and the blind. 'Tis a dull office to relate The wounds that mark the adverse fate. Now triflers boast, and fond amaze Lavished on triflers meets our caze : Or, if praise falls with judgment just, Oh ! how we loathe th' unwilling rust That settles on our own decay, And cats the sheathed blade away. O for one hour to join the throng, And try our strength among the strong ; Not to heap gold ! no mammon name We covet, but an honest fame, 16 THE EMIGRANT. To fill our niche in Nature's scheme, To do a something more than dream ; The curious soul, by Nature taught, Will seek the interchange of thought, Conceive ideas, and wish to find A kindred channel for the mind ; But even this first gift, supplied To the wild savage, is denied : No social scheme within our reach, We languish for the play of speech ! They little think who pass us by, And meet us in our wanderings, why We deign not our sad eyes to raise, But silent slmnk beneath their gaze. Men marvel at our stern reserve, Which doth such loneliness preserve : The world to sorrow, which we hide, Awards the penalty of Pride ! Stranger ! I am nor proud, nor dull, But, stranger, I am sorrowful. O let not coward Pity dare Look down on us ; if she, aware Of her own barrenness, but feeds A selfish pride on poisoned weeds ; But Mercy, making others' cause Her own, may she, reflective, pause, And weigh, with calm regard and kind, Each subtle wound that racks the mind, PART I. 17 Marking, with eye discriminate, Oppression, and its victim's fate ; A fate that shall her cheek suffuse, And o'er her sight a mist diffuse, Bathing her meek lids, till it stray A tender trickling tear away. May she regard, and may her love In turn be registered above. "&* Oh ! freedom, 'tis a giant want That eats all others,* while we pant T' indulge each quiet simple taste, The garden of the soul lies waste : The seed of gentle flowers is cast In vain 'neath the Sirocco's blast, No peaceful task shall cheat the power Of care to speed the creeping hour. Pleasure of atoms doth compose Her empire ; a breath, a rose, A wave, more sweet shall often seem Than gross ambition's children deem. What more irradiate softly bright Than is the rainbow's tinted light 1 Yet Irist delicate, and fair, Reigns o'er but drops of coloured air ; * See the rod of Moses, which, being turned into a serpent, devoured the other serpents. Ex. vii. 12. T Iris, the Rainbow. C 18 THE EMIGRANT. She mocks the storm, and long may dwell Where pregnant clouds with tempest swell ; But when deep night hath all o'ercast The heavens, her playful reign is past. Soft intervals between sweet showers Are rare, when rigid winter's powers Seal up the earth, or steady rain Descends : so 'tis with settled pain. With yearning hearts still warm and kind, We living leave the world behind ; We search the field of old and new, And ruminate to find the clue To better fortunes ; we devise Each humble means by which to rise, At least above the tainted air, And fatal regions of Despair, Till, as we plan, and vainly think, Our hearts turn back on self, and sink. Such is the struggle. Man depends On craft alone to compass ends ; Rife Fraud doth exercise men's minds, And, with its tortuous mazes, winds Foul webs, that stifle honest Hope Defrauded of its native scope ; PART I. 19 Quick Gain and Chance doth mystify The mind of honest industry, And then (ofttimes a barren sin) Vain Covetousness enters in ; Base Avarice thrives, false, abject Need, And whining Want, by lies succeed, Till candid Pity flies the Host Confused, demoralized, and lost : Fierce Violence and Vice disturb The crowd, beyond the power to curb ; The proud, the subtle, and the mean, The poor, the rich, and those between, Mix in corroding passion's strife, Destroying innocence and life. The subtle serpent coil of sin, Man's enemy that lurks within, Doth not unfold to tempt us less, Since Eden, in this wilderness. Soft Indolence, and demon Pride, Spurn shrinking Sorrow from their side ; Impel her to the desert spot Beyond their sight, to be forgot. Alas ! too soon within the haunt Of Sorrow, and Starvation gaunt, The cheerless, barren heart, beguiled By ill imaginings and wild, Lets in temptation ; grim Despair, And Vengeance rouse them from their lair, 20 THE EMIGRANT. Extremes exasperate, and wrath Two edged anarchy brings forth,* Insensate suicide that kills Itself, to remedy its ills ; Intoxate power ! that, in its fall, Like Giant Samson, ruins all. Let not the merciful delay, The good, the just, to turn away Great ills from an o'er-peopled land ; But, with a strong and liberal hand, Between the dead and living; stand, t ■» Soon may we cease ill thoughts to trace, As now stamped on the human face ; Not passion's whirlwind, frowns of pride, Which gather quick, and quick subside — But deep distortions, frequent seen, Engraved for life upon the mean — % * These Hues were written when the Great Chartist Meeting in London, and the Revolution in Paris, were fresh under the Author's observation. t "And he stood between the dead and the living, and the plague was stayed." — Nwmhers xvi. 48. % It is remarkable how the looks of even country people lose that pleasing frank expression which we have been ac- customed to see. even in our own early days. It has been ex- changed in less than the course of a few generations, for a repulsive scornful scowl, with a disfigurement of the mouth, and lower features of their once simple countenances; for the PART I. 21 Engraved on some the world calls high, In haughty sensuality ; Lines furrowed deep record the strife Of spiritual death with life, Conflicting principles within, The war of holiness with sin ' Which mark the man, as trench and mound, On some traditionary ground, Where waves the long grass, mark the site Of battle field, and former fight. But let us contemplate erewhile The placid brow, the cheerful smile — Where minds intelligent and wise Receive their impress from the skies : See how the patient, noble soul, Eschews the arrogant control For selfish ends, and soars more high, Unconscious from humility, eye of such people, still, more than retains its peculiar low cun- ning and sensuality. Means and position (the former probal ily deteriorated during the recent state of things) do not meet and agree with newly-acquired tastes and ambitions. Poverty and pretension, antagonizing, seem through the ' spirit to produce this physical deformity, for such it almost amounts to, as the meeting of the tide and wind swells the ocean into rude and sullen billows, or as opposition, in their growth. gives the gnarled branches an unnatural form at the point of contact. These tell the tale as surely, and more sadly, of " crowded civilization," than even the wan features of pale -i ii'l pining starvation. 22 THE EMIGRANT. Than, even in his evil thought, The fii'st arch-rebel angel sought. My native land, combined in thee, A thousand goodly things I see ; I honour too, with heart and soul, The majesty of just control; 'Tis not that I thy laws despise, Or look with jealous, selfish eyes On those who rightly own the soil, Or covet an unholy spoil ; Thy laws have reared the free and brave ; 'Tis circumstance that makes the slave ! Sweet are the labours of the hive, And sweet the fruits where millions thrive — But multiply that swarming host, To half, the paradise is lost. This cheek is blanched, but not with age. Or poring o'er the midnight page ; This brow is marked with lines of care, Not those of many winters' wear ; Dark hairs are too soon mixed with grey, Or prematurely fall away ; This once athletic, active, frame, I scarcely know it for the same ; These eyes, if dim, fail not with years, But with a throbbing worse than tears ; PART I. 23 The spirit they should represent, By wasting care is worn and spent ; The quick soul, by its instinct stirred, Makes poison of the hope deferred. The scourge of death and fell disease,* Doth on the crowded million seize — Where craving want hath marked the door, The judgment falls upon the poor ; Mercy to many, and to some A rescue from the ills to come ; 'Tis seen, the rulers of the land Eespect the writing of that hand — They know such signs are not in vain, It will return again, again It will return, and at each door, Arrive to decimate the poor. But who shall note the inward strife, Where pride is dearer still than life 1 Call it not pi-ide, some better name Should mark the will that shrinks from shame ; * The Cholera Morbus. — The history of this fearful scourge, its origin, its existence, and its aggravation, seems so eminently connected with the squalor of crowded localities, where the necessaries of life, food, and clothing, are defi- cient, that it is impossible for the most sceptical to deny, in this instance, the writing on the wall. The same hand that warns and threatens the rich, has provided with their agency, the remedy for the poor. 24 THE EMIGRANT. What anguish doth that heart endure, Which craves, yet shrinking, shuns the cure- Compared with this the pangs are few And short, the victim ever knew ; Marked by th' All-merciful and Wise, To leave his pallet for the skies. The gentle soul, whom man's decree Hath shattered, like the scathed tree Lives on ; and, like the puny bough Above the barrenness below, His hope all scantily survives, To tell the Man of Sorrow lives. END OF PART I. THE EMIGBANT. PART II. THE DEPARTURE. " O'er the glad waters of the dark blue sea, Our souls as boundless, and our thoughts as free, Far as the breeze can blow, or billows foam, Survey our country, and behold our home." The Corsair. With pictured joy, and real pain, I seize my doubtful task again, Reluctant toil, and try to cull New fancies from the old and dull ; The spirit that should such create, Is wanting : all inanimate, 26 THE EMIGRANT. And lifeless creeps the torpid stream Of Thought, an unprolific dream ; Still let me paint as best I may, The wished-for, all-auspicious day. EMIGRANT LOQUITUR. Young Hope, thy lids unclose, My drooping thoughts revive at thy sweet smile, Which were so dead awhile ; I see thy sweet cheek mantle with the rose, All innocent of guile, Breathless, I watch thy infant lips, and mark The changes as a spark; * And yet, what Giant strength canst thou impart To my own beating heart 1 Old Time grows young, his rigid aspect mild, At touch of thee, sweet child, Who steal'st away his charter to destroy, As from a reckless boy. My dear old Country, thou hast done Great kindness to thy grateful son, t * It is not surprising that the Author should be familiar with this simile, having watched by the bed and cradle of no less than six beautiful infants, all of whom he was fated to lose, two at the most interesting ages of childhood. t The Emigrant is here supposed to have been supplied with the means to Emigrate. PART II. The means are his, to leave the strife, Renew the lease of feeble life, And in fresh scenes, new strength regain, To join the throng, and not in vain ; Oh, in fresh scenes, shall he forget The hand that rent the deadly net Asunder 1 never, never till This voice is hushed, this heart is still, For aye, in the sequestered grave, That Time shall dig heyond the wave. Farewell, my native island shore, We part in peace, to meet no more ! 'Tis a grave triumph, this success ; A pensive power of bitterness Wounds at the last ; 'tis hard to sever ; A pang is in the words "For Ever !" Strange conflict 'tis that sets us free, Oh, morbid Inconsistency ! Imagination is a sword Of double edge, a touch, a word, Will lead us through a baseless dream, To each chimerical extreme Of joy delusive, or of woe, Her arguments, no medium know, Her touch, if cold, is to benumb, If warm, it threatens to consume. 27 28 THE EMIGEANT. Away, Kegret ! no base alloy Must mingle with the cup of joy; Come, dive into the ready mart, Purchase the oft-consulted chart, Find we the Journal to direct, The apt mechanic's store inspect ; Balance the rod, whose pliant strength Best casts the line's light falling length : Glance down the barrel light and long, Of fowling-piece, or rifle strong ; The lock, that springs with quick, and clear, Yet mellow music to the ear Choose, with the rough and ready gear, For winter, or for summer's wear. Of harness for the future team, And waggons, let the novice dream, Leave Yorkshire implements of toil, To Yorkshire men, and Yorkshire soil ; Let Cornish tools, and Cornish ploughs, Turn furrows for the Cornish choughs ; They well their use and value know, Who turn the English soil, and sow. Her wonted crops ; so shall the hand Adapt fit things in foreign land. * * Ploughing. — " When in Chili, I advanced to make the usual observation, ' Why don't they introduce the English plough]' When I was informed, that it had been intro- duced by an intelligent Englishman upon his own property, PART II. 29 To shares which suit the broken field, The virgin Prairie scorns to yield — Nor will their force or structure turn The stubborn root of Zealand's fern ; Proceed, and judge upon the spot, What things are fitting, and what not — Experience of Colonial lore, Be sure, will circumscribe the store ; Choose, but be sparing, 'tis a cheap Experiment to look — to leap A dear one ever, which the wise Buy, and bid others to despise. Some hire the hind of honest stock, To guide the plough, or guard the flock ; 'Tis fair to give the chance we take, This choice the sordid seldom make ; * hut abandoned after a fair trial; the land worked by it being found to produce no better crops in most years, than that worked by the Chdian plough; while, during dry years, the land worked by the latter, produced a crop, though often a scanty one ; and that worked by the former, produced none at all." — Sidney's Emigrant's Journal. * It has been too much an opinion, that the slight hold upon farm or other servants, and the many temptations to leave their service and seek independence, makes it imprudent to take them out under any contract ; but this, I imagine, is chiefly among the evils that inferior emigration produces. 30 THE EMIGRANT. But low suspicions ill agree With gentle minds, a fair, and free, And liberal bearing best become, And profit such, though scorned by some ; Use generous prudence — for the bold, As they acquire, retain their hold On meaner souls, aud ofttimes raise, The low by discipline and praise. Oh ! what elastic active zeal, Unwearied, scrupulous, we feel, When hope, perspective, takes the place Of dull indifference in the race ; He who late shunned, with haggard eye, Each tiny care's monotony — Now, with eye glancing bright and keen, With cool decision in his mien, With bales compact, and plan complete, Turns each succeeding call to meet With brisk alacrity, the while Pass the quick greeting and the smile ; How wonderful the energy, When will agrees with destiny. Away ! away ! the hour is come, To night the ocean is our home ; PART II. 31 Above the small Fort,'"' where we lie, My country's colours wave on high — Fan they the light breeze less in sport ? And cloth, in truth, the stern old Fort Frown deeper 1 It is past ! one sigh, Dear land of my nativity, For thee, and, with this latest token, Reflection's nightmare spell is broken. One glistening drop is dashed away, Confounded with the salt sea spray — Unwitnessed, unrecorded, known To Him who reads the heai"t alone. Thy scenes, dear land, are buried deep, Where fond and early fancies sleep, Within a heart that blends thy name With all we realize of fame. Months pass, yet, on the wide wild sea ; That flag protects and shelters me, The same that on the land was waving, See ! now the tempest's wrath is braving ; A few more moons upon the seas And, at the world's antipodes, Again she greets me, as I come, A guardian in my mountain home ; Or proud her folds majestic swell O'er transalantic citadel — Supposed to be Tilbury, opposite the town of Gravi 32 THE EMIGRANT. E'en yet I lose not sight of thee, Heraldic pledge of liberty.* * " What were my own feelings when I first beheld this guardian angel (the British Standard) hovering over my head, I had rather not divulge.'"' — Head's Emir/rant. END OF PAKT II. THE EMIGKANT. PART III. " And this our life, exempt from public haunt, Finds tongues m trees, books in the running brooks, Sermons in stones, and good in every thing. Ami. I would not change it ; happy is your Grace, That can translate the stubbornness of fortune Into so quiet and so sweet a style." EMIGRANT LOQUITUR. Welcome the land of the Cyprus and pine, The deep flowing river, the mountain, and mine — Where lawn-like Savannahs no boundary know, But the fringe of the dark wood all sweeping and low. Where, fallow for ages, the mole, and the fox, Have usurped the rich soil from the plough and the ox; 34 THE EMIGRANT. The wild woods are free, and the coverts are full With roebuck, and elk, and the buffalo bull ; The fowl of the forest crowd on to their rest, The black swan is winging his way to the West ; The waters are teeming, oh ! come let us share, There is plenty on earth, there is life in the air. — We faint not, we fly not, let labour increase, For sweet is the labour of plenty and peace. Thus the grateful stranger sang, Soft and sweet the echo rang — No such tones, since boyhood's day, Had from his full heart found their way ; Now the heart bounds, and now serene It melts upon the welcome scene ; If, since young ardour stirred the soul, Its fiery force hath learnt control — Withdrawn the chastening hand of woe, It still, with grateful overflow, Responds to joy, — full well the breast Receives the long-forgotten guest. Methinks I see a little band Of shadow forms along the strand — Shades of grim mariners are these, Which on my dreaming fancy seize ; Grotesque Hidalgo shapes precede The crowd — and onward, cheering, lead PART III. 35 The pilgrim fathers,* each inspired With the dim spark of hope that fired, Mysterious, their hearts to trace, A dream through ocean's misty space — I think I see them one by one, Returning as their task is done. Theirs was the triumph, the success Discovery claims ; while we possess The fruits, the world records their name, And nations envy still their fame ; Thus is the great eternal plan Developed by mankind for man. A generation, passed away Long since, still mingles with to-day ; Creation hath no bounds, by time Or space defined ; great work sublime Planned from the first, ages shall bring To light — no isolated thing. Leave we the shadows of the past, Our own dim horoscope to cast ; We thread the grove, till ocean's roar Grows indistinct, now heard no more — Deep silence sinks upon the ear ; Each whispers each, as if in fear, To chase some vision, we intrude With deferential gratitude — The early discoverers of the American Continent, who were Spaniards. 36 THE EMIGRANT. Such awe as might have well heconie The first pair '"' in their spotless home ; Strange beauties ever awe, though bright, They yield a diffident delight — We turn not, but all anxious seem To claim a portion in the dream. The height is crowned, a sky of blue Rests on the mountain's neutral hue — Far, far away, a fading line Doth ill the boundary define Of lost horizon, — on again Confused are cloud, and hill, and plain ; What vast extended realms unfold, — Rock, cape, and promontory bold Still catch at times the backward sight, Reposing in an azure light, With shadows sketched upon the wave That doth their distant bases lave. Can scenes so fair contain a rude t Uncultivated solitude 1 A few suns more, and shall there be A peaceful spot consigned to me 1 Possession is an instinct true To man, his heritage, and due ; * Adam and Eve. + " Rudes," see Latin, "new, fresh, umvrouglit." — Ainsworth. " Tenant rudan proscindere.'' — Varr. PART III. 37 God said, " Possess ye, let the land Subdued, yield fruits beneath thy hand — Toil, multiply, and till the earth •* This title meets thee at thy birth ; Let each his fruitful furrow dig, And own the soil beneath his Fig, Let every man beneath his vine, In sweet security recline, t The world's stern virtues brace the will To meet inevitable ill, But gratitude shall best employ Soft fusion to refine our joy. Enjoyment meets Religion ! % when We worship and enjoy as men, The angels are scarce raised above Our boundless emph*e of love. § Still must our pilgrimage be run ; Still must we bury, one by one, Earth's fondest hopes, each sacrifice A fruitful seed in paradise ; || Our treasures must be housed ere they Can lead us on the pleasant way ; Nor may this great reversion cease Each day to pave the path to peace, f * Gen. i. 28. + 1 Kings iv. 25. X Psal. lxvii; lsxxv. 10; 1 Tim. iv. 4, 5. § Psal. viii. 5. || Matt. vi. 33. J. Prov. iii. 17. 38 THE EMIGRANT. We must conform, as we await, To that celestial, happy state, Fitted to feel, and argue why Creation was all harmony ! * We are immeasurably free, We enter on Eternity, t They spoil our Holy Faith, who try To cramp our souls with bigotry; They hurt our Faith, who grovel low, In fruitless forms, and empty show ; Yet ever let the wise retain Fair, decent order in her train, J Lest with that guardian compass lost, The sophist, visionary host Break in, and subtle lead away The wavering soul, an easy prey ; Zealots miscarry, and the wise Of this world miss the heavenly prize. A paradox although it seem, We find in medium an extreme, In moderation, § man shall best Secure his full and perfect rest. Medicine is poison by degree, Or more or less a remedy. * Rom. viii. 23. t 1 Peter i. 5. J 1 Cor. siv. 40. § Phil. iv. 5. PAKT III. 39 The howling tempest rends the mast, The calm falls fatal as the blast. Nor let the wily casuist, With lack of Charity, insist That Truth's well ordered symmetry, Is but a lukewarm piety ; There is an echo in the breast, That ever answers Truth the best, In vain our treacherous hearts resist, Or shun this subtle Alchymist. Divide the sacred Word aright, * The cloud recedes, and all is light ; No sophist theme our spirit tries; Hearts free from false austerities, Back in their easy channels run, As frozen streams beneath the sun, Which first o'erflow, then win from dearth The teeming regions of the earth. Truth ripens fruits, that time shall prove A harvest rich in Peace and Love ; Light cheers the mind, and Grace renews The barren soul, like falling dews ; Almighty Father I then we feel The sweet requital of our zeal; Each mountain, valley, stream, and tree, All Nature, then seems full of Thee, * "A workman rightly dividing the word of truth." 2 Tim. ii. 15. 40 THE EMIGRANT. On, od, the eye, like humoured child, Would linger on the wide and wild, Watch Evening's lustre sink in Night, The new, the beautiful, the bright. But limbs must toil, there's work ahead, Before we press our leafy bed; Tis well Fatigue doth hurry on Sweet Sleep's thrice blest oblivion ; Strange thoughts might at such hour intrude, A dark, unwelcome interlude Might weigh upon the spirit's wing, When Rest succeeds to Action's spring. 'Tis morn ! Where ami? On the sea 1 Still rolls the wave 1 It may not be ! I see the green bough waving through, Old scenes commingle with the new, This draught of sleep, so long, so sweet, Puts on my cumbered brain a cheat, There whispering moans a plaintive voice, Too low, too sad, to say "Rejoice !" Anon young Freedom, with her train Of newborn hopes, asserts her reign ; Up ! let us on ! another day, Another night, away ! away ! 'Tis weary work, and slow to push Our passage through the tangled bush, PART III. To ford the stream, to find the track, Or losing, to turn patient back ; Yet lovelier still, if hardly won, Do novel beauties lure us on ; It seems each mountain hath a voice, Like Fairy tale to woo the choice ; Each stream a syren, every grove A nymph, to lure us to her love, Spread forth, as in some gay bazaar, Nature displays her gifts to mar Decision in her solemn mood, Tenacious of combining good ; An aggregate of all delights, The greedy, dazzled soul invites. Here tall Pines of excessive girth, Three hundred feet above the earth, Gigantic rise, to meet the cloud, Spreading their dark plumes like a shroud ; Here sturdy Oaks, of doubtful date, — So rich the soil ; here germinate Rich Chesnuts glutinous, whose leaf Spreads broad and moist, to give relief ; "White waving Ozier, graceful Queen Of babbling brooks (whose fickle sheen, Gleams glancing, silvered as at noon, She wore the livery of the moon), Drags in the stream, or dipping, breaks The placid surface of the lakes ; 41 42 THE EMIGRANT. And tiny birch-leaves fresh and fair Dance twinkling in the summer air — And silver rinds, light peeling, show A ruddy russet hue below. Here rivers picturesque descend From source remote, whose eddies bend Round points of emerald turf, to sleep In limpid pools abruptly deep ; Or scoops the hollow bank away The rapid's long-continued play ; Now deep and rich, the fertile soil Yields pasture, or the spot for toil. A thousand fancies stir the mind, With stern necessity behind — To check them in their antic game, Few things around are poor or tame Here, save her glee-repelling glance, And rigid order to advance. Luxuriant fancies intervene, Trick out a future fancy scene, And slily tamper with the heart, Which like a broken bow doth start, With sudden impetus, aside, — We lose the vigour to decide. The artist takes the canvass bright And stainless, or the marble white ; The bard, the melodist, the sage, For teeming thought, the virgin page, PART III. 43 Each freely marks his loved design, No playful grace need he resign — Nought intercepts or turns aside The bold conception wandering wide, The vivid tint of what shall be ; The shape, the form, the truth, as free On canvass, stone, or page, we see, As in the mind's ubiquity. But we our future scheme thus bright On nature's bosom must indite ; To this or that selected spot We, once for all, confine our lot — Here in its fixed reality For aye upon the Prairie ; The fence, the dwelling, and the farm, The garden sweet, the homestead warm, Must stand the witness of our toil, Fixed as the limits of the soil; For many a care shall years employ, To prove the wisdom of our joy — To sow, to reap, to tend the flock, T' improve and multiply the stock ; While toil and ease, alternate, bless Our years of simple happiness. How sweet the lighter task t' improve The little Lirias * of our love ; * Lirias, the residence bestowed on Gil Bias, of which he Bays, comparing it to Seville, "Apples par excellence le 44 THE EMIGRANT. As solid bodies from the mine, Do ever on their surface shine The brightest,* so doth taste agree Best with well-ordered industry. To trail the vine, to trim the rose, Each floral ti'easure to dispose Be ours, — fair plants, which lately knew No guiding hand, but wildly grew Luxuriant all, and doomed to die Unseen in their variety, Shall be our care ; the feeble shoot Extenuate, roving from the root So far, you might not know its kind, Or that the parent moisture find, We skilful prune, and concentrate Its strength, which, thus regenerate, Shall yield us flower, and fruit, and scent, Beneficently succulent. Shrubs, loosened by the careful spade, Reluctant leave their native shade, ParadisTerrestre. Quand nous aurions choisi ce sejour, il ne seroit pas plus de mon gout. Une riviere 1' arrose de ses caux ; un bois epais prete son ombrage, quand on veut se promener au milieu du jour. L' aimable solitude ! Ah, mon cher maitre, nous avons bien la mine de demeurer ici long temps ! Je suis ravi, lui dis-je, que tu fois content de notre asyle, dont-tu ne cennois pas encore tous les agremens." — Li/ore Dixieme. * " Chose solide que brille." PART III. 45 Snapping their fibrous ties, to find The wholesome light, the sun, the wind. The path is trim, the shady porch Invites, when glowing sunbeams scorch The weary sportsman, who shall win The guerdon of his toil within. The bark lies lapping in the cove, The rafter bears her gear above Our heads, and see, the rack below, Of barrels * holds a goodly row — When winter's snow, or drizzling rain, Descending stains the shaking pane, We patient work the netted mesh, Repair, and now arrange afresh The coiled up piscatory store, While varnished sections strew the floor Of light bamboo, or hazle strong, Or taper lancewood light and long. Quick Squirrel is spinning with gossamer tail, Round the bark of the Pine-tree that shelters the vale, Now pausing, now peeping, now popping away, In his spiral ascent, with his coating of grey ; Now swinging aloft on the tendril so high, We see a dark spot 'twixt his perch and the sky, * Gun barrels. 46 THE EMIGRANT. All gemlike, and jetlike, his little bright eye, Looks down on the stranger slow sauntering by, Rocked by the breezes to and fro, What careth he for men below ] The damp, dabbling congress of Beavers collect, Their little moist dwellings of mud to erect, With slapping and splashing they labour away, In ludicrous earnest, like children at play. With lightning-like zigzag, when danger is near, The quick-sighted Rabbit falls back to the rear, On his line of entrenchments, well furrowed and worn, Beneath the close root of the bramble and thorn. At our feet see the Hare with her big, bead-like eye, Close wrapt in the long-grass, all russet and dry, Soho her, and spring her, and hark her away, No law shall protect her, and who shall say nay. Brown Woodcock is boring the ooze for his meal, The rush-bed is swarming with Widgeon and Teal ; The eider-clothed Wild-duck floats lazily by, Or leads the long phalanx, a speck in the sky ; Wild Turkey and Partridge, and Prairie Hen, Here spring from the thicket, or bask in the glen. With startling cry, nor harsh, nor shrill, The arrowy snipe forsakes the rill ; PART III. 47 With zigzag course, and downward bill, He mocks the gunner's baffled skill, Till far and safe he soars on high, A speck erratic in the sky ; Then twirling swift, he downward darts, Upon the sedge from which he starts ; Or if crisp Frost direct his wing, We trace him to the bubbling spring. Instant, * large looming, t see a pair Of painted Mallards cleave the air, Now on the solitary moat, They diving dip, or buoyant float. 'Tis the calm, silent, beautiful Evening-hour, The dew-drop has settled on leaf, and on flower, Blythe Butterfly's gambols have come to a close, With her light wings united, she hangs on the rose ; Apt emblem is she of the spirit, X whose rest Creeps o'er it, as sinks the red sun in the west ; Now crushed by the shower, now cheered by the ray, A trembler, a wanderer, § she wears out the day. * " Instate jam plane aut cert&jcm appropimquwre." — Cicero. Iwsto signifies to be at no great distance. It signifies here ''hearing down," as technically applied to a ship. f To loom large is also applied to the appearance of a ship, when, in a fog, she appears larger than usual. + $£i/vu, or Psyche, the soul. See Greek Mythology. § "Anima, vagula, Uaudula," &c. 48 THE EMIGRANT. Come, stray to the waters, and gaze on the pool, That sleeps in the sunset, all shady and cool ; Dark forms are revolving and sailing below, Some rise to the surface majestic and slow ; Some strike for the dark depths, quick lost to the sight ; Some leaving the shadows, repose in the light. Tis the calm, silent, beautiful Evening-hour, Reflection spreads o'er us the shade of her power, The heart, in its fulness and freedom alone, Shall recur in the silence to days that are gone ; While blessing the present, she melts o'er the past, She still has a tear for the friends that are lost. Oh, what zeal of forgiveness, what will to repair A thought that was harsh, in the moment of care ; If the word Avas too bitter, that once we let fall, Oh, what joy would it give us that word to recall. How selfish, how feeble, how faulty the mind, That the goad of injustice should make us unkind; That the soul of the wise should resent in its sorrow, What Pity would view with a smile on the morrow. Return ! Night's shadows deeper fall, Sleep sweetly, Nature yields thee all ! Rise cheerful, to survey the store Thy hands have brought around thy door ; PABT III. 49 Pursue thy sylvan craft, and bring New joys from every living thing ; Things moving in the earth, the sea, The air, were all designed for thee. Nor let thy faithless heart destroy Its peace, with groundless fear's alloy, Trifles that basely steal away The full joy of each happy day. If Nature speaks in louder peals Electric from the sky, or deals Her thunder-bolts 'gainst rock or tree, More fiercely rending, what to thee 1 The penalties of Adam fall With equal destiny for all. * What if the twining reptile's wrath Lies lurking, coiled across thy path 1 Thin Whipsnake ; — or you heedless pass In the deep shade, amid the grass, He of the treble warning, Heaven A salutary gift hath given, An instinct rare for others' good, To this dark terror of the wood, t Cold blood oft in the human race Brews vengeance, — shrinking from the face * The compensatory principle only, observable in the distribution of things both good and evil, is here alluded to. t Rattlesnake. E 50 THE EMIGRANT. Of day, it deals the subtle wound, Nor shall the antidote be found. From man's revenge what care shall guard 1 What warning voice the stroke retard ? As Nature doth the brute create, So doth her spirit animate. * Mercy in every work we see, In man alone is cruelty, An evil heart, that oft doth make A hell for its own evil sake. Fear not the nimble, shuffling gait Of shaggy Bruin, he doth wait But rarely on the path of men, He sulks deep-buried in the glen. Armed Crocodile's unwieldy length, Doth second ill his mighty strength, The sullen plunge beneath the flood, Is sought more oft than human blood. Pass on secure, let none of these Destroy, with dread, thy wonted ease, Thy new-born hope shall ride intact, A halo o'er the cataract, A guiding-star upon the sea, A faithful talisman to thee. In rising up, in lying down, About our path, t secure we own * " Deus est anima brutorum." + Psalm cxxxix. 2. PART III. 51 A Providence, all-wise and great, A faithful Judo-e to arbitrate. •.-.' As sails the gathered mist away, All slow but sure at break of day, Till mountain, forest, plain and stream, In one resplendent picture gleam, So first the fruits of labour sleep Beneath her dusty reign, then creep All smiling from beneath her hand, As changed by touch of fairy wand ; We view complaisant, we possess A share in Nature's loveliness : A part and portion of the rude, The rich, the fruitful solitude, Blesses the patient, watchful eye Of Faith, and Hope, and Energy. Why sits Temptation close as Care, Behind the horseman,* ever there, To snatch the moment, to suggest Ambitions, to destroy our rest ? The Golden mean is gained ! Oh, man ! Divide with wisdom the brief span Assigned thee, let no false pretence Augment a well-earned competence ; * " Post equitem sedet atra cura." — Horace. 52 THE EMIGRANT. Let selfish dreams, of wide domain O'er space, through Time decoy in vain. Nor for thy sons too far advance The lot of their inheritance ; Join house to house * in pompous state, A future vainly wide estate ; Better t' inherit, and dispense, Gifts that agree with innocence, And hy a fair example led, Let each secure his daily bread By early toil, and sturdy rise, By well directed faculties. The mirror of a humble lot, Gives that philosophers know not — The sweet reflection of a mind That leaves uneasy thoughts behind. Sin hath no mirror ! demons hide Most from the proud the face of pride, In its revolting ugliness, In its low loathsome littleness. All crushed and worn as I am now, With care stamped deep upon my brow, With feeble hope, without success, With daily draughts of bitterness — * » Woe unto them that join house to house, that lay field to field, till there be no place, that they may be placed alone in the midst of the earth."— Isaiah v. 8. PAKT III. 53 I would not, for the wealth of kings, Resign the lore the struggle brings. * ( )h ! could the proud, the selfish, see The emptiness, the vanity, That wild ambition doth suggest, To take the place of wholesome rest ; The scanty knowledge of his kind Within the worldling's feeble mind, Contrasted with the clear and deep Discernment which the patient reap ! Hard-earned experience gives the soul The guarantee of self-control — High knowledge which forbids the strong, Who feel, to do another wrong, Superior to the tyrant will, That wounds in ignorance of ill. But see none can, till it recedes, The rankness of those poisoned weeds — For, in pride's morbid nightmare rest, The eye is closed, the heart oppressed, Beyond the power of self to shake — Oh ! victims, when will ye awake ? Let high-souled virtue never die, Let taste, let courage, chivalry, f * " Celni qui riapas souffert qu est, ce quil scait." — De Stael. f "Chivalry"— A high but honest honor is here meant : unconnected with deeds of arms — its frequent interpretation. 54 THE EMIGRANT. Let courteous gentleness, and ease, With sweet alacrity to please, Adorn and strengthen virtue's cause, Apt supplement to human laws ; Let faith sublime chase abject dread, Place cool reliance in its stead — But let, oh ! let us, never see Pride's arrogant supremacy,. Now plunge into the forest deep, Where voice is none, and echoes sleep — Wrapt commune with the holy sense, Our hearts confess of eloquence In silence, let us pensive brood In awful solemn solitude — Thus the soul's discord dissipate, Low-thoughted care eradicate — Wash out the vulgar blotted stain Of common colours from the brain ; To purify, exalt, compose, The spirit racked by recent woes, Our task shall be, until we cast The slough * of such, th' envenomed past. A chastening season ever must Raise human beings from the dust, * « To cast the slough." The snake is said to cast his slough when he changes his skin. PART III. 55 Nothing is vain, all leaves behind Or guides a motion in the mind ; Thus shall our soul, as by a sleep Refreshed, sink down upon its deep And natural basis, no o'erwrought Affections vex the easy thought, No faculty, distempered, strives With vacancy, but working gives And takes the strong vitality, Consistent with reality. How grandly, beautifully, deep, In these wide realms doth nature sleep — The magnitude of stream, and tree, The vastness, the sublimity Of all things * seems to set us free From ill's unwholesome subtilty. * " However deeply prejudiced an Englishman may be in favour of his own countiy, yet, I think, it is impossible for him to cross the Atlantic without admitting, that in both the Noi-thern and Southern hemispheres of the new world, Nature has not only outlined her works on a larger scale, but has painted the whole picture with brighter and more costly colours than she used in delineating and in beautifying the old. " The heavens of America appear infinitely higher — the sky is bluer — the clouds are whiter— the ah is fresher— the cold is intenser— the moon looks larger — the stars are brighter — the thunder is louder— the lightning is vivider— the wind is stronger— the ram is heavier — the mountains are higher— the rivers larger— the forests bigger— the plains 56 THE EMIGRANT. The bleating herd, * as from this sense, Gaze up in candid innocence ; The human spirit takes a tone, A majesty beyond its own ; The lordly savage, from the scene, Stands forth ennobled in his mien ; The daughter of his haughty race, Untutored, hath a native grace — Her simple intercourse hath fouud A harmony from things around ; As insects do their hue derive From plants and flowers on which they live. 'Tis much, this peace which we regain, Composure sweet, and not in vain — Still slowly doth the soul below A peaceful consummation know : She doth demand, as of a need,t A pledge divine, a special creed, broader ; in short, the gigantic and beautiful features of the new world seem to correspond very wonderfully with the increasing locomotive powers and other brilliant discoveries, winch, under the blessing of an Almighty power, have lately been developed to mankind." — Head's Emigrant. * Wild Deer. t " One of the first wants, like a flower in the wilderness, that springs up in the mind of a backwood's-man, is to attend PART III. 57 Some warrantry, a further hope — Security, a love, a scope occasionally a place of worship. Solitude litis first slightly introduced, and has then welcomed to his mind, more serious reflections than any it had previously entertained. The thunder and the lightning of heaven, the sudden storms, the intense cold, the magnificent colouring of the sky, the buoyant air, the gorgeous sunsets, one after another, have sometimes sternly, and sometimes smilingly, imparted to liiin truths which have gradually explained to him that there is something very fearful, as well as fallacious, in the idea of any human being boasting to himself of being ' independent ' of that Power, so eminently conspicuous in the wilderness of America ! " As soon as this want has taken firm root in the heart, it soon produces its natural fruit. The Emigrants meet, con- sult, arrange, with each other, subscribe according to their means, a few dollars, a few pounds, or a few hundred pounds, (one of the most powerful axe-men in Upper Canada expended on this object upwards of a thousand pounds) ; the simple edifice rapidly grows up — is roofed in — is furnished with benches — until at last, on some bright Sabbath-day, a small bell, fixed within a little turret on its summit, is heard • slowly tolling in the forest. From various directions sleighs and waggons, each laden with, at least, one man, a woman or two, and some little children, are seen converging towards it ; and it would be impossible to describe the overwhelming feelings of the various members of the congregation of both sexes, and of all ages, when their selected and respected minister, clad in a decent white surplice, for the first time opens his lips to pronounce to them those well-known words •wliich declare, 'That when the wicked man turneth away from the wickedness he has committed, and doeth that which is lawful and right, he shall save his soul alive.' " — Ibid. 58 THE EMIGRANT. Beyond the limits of the earth, Unseen, coeval with this birth Holy and new, a princely dower Eternal as Creating Power. We crave an adoration, none In peace can die, none live alone, Without communion with the great Essential Good, the Lord of fate. These gentle hints doth nature give, Thus prompts the spirit while we live On earth — a sadness shades the brow, At times — a calm too deep to flow Falls, — soon is found the level course Responsive to th' immortal source From whence we came ; who gave the soul, Doth guide it with a sweet control, Devotion grateful bids us kneel — No more the aching void we feel — A spirit holy shall descend, Its calm and grateful aid to lend. Oh, how unlike the borrowed name, Of Faith, is Faith herself, the same Which Wisdom gave, and keeps so well And long, in the heart's citadel. Blest be the happy golden mean, An earthly Paradise between PART III. 59 The tropic of unwholesome ease, With soul enervating disease That dries the heart, and robs the sight, And withers all with parching blight — And that cold, bleak, and frigid zone, Where crowds leave man to die alone, With closed up hearts, like iron wrought To hardness, by the selfish thought. And now Night's sable curtain drops, The ringing sound of labour stops, The big orb of the sinking sun Informs us that his race is run ; He, faithful to the hour of rest, Sinks down beside his lovely West, The dusky forest's labyrinth, soon Shall gleam mysterious 'neath the moon. To draw together friends, unite Is province of the social night, For though she frown so stern and black, 'Tis but, benign, to warn us back To cheerful scenes of rest and ease, Refreshing meals, and looks that please. Once more the paling embers stir, Raise up, once more, the log of fir, Yea, let a cheerful blaze ascend, To light us to the Evening's end \ 60 THE EMIGRANT. By which dear gentle friends unite, A lengthened blessing to invite, Let thanksgiving at close of day, Instinctive find its easy way ; Let grateful hearts serenely beat, Diffusing, from each calm retreat, A grateful glow, to reach the soul, To bless, to sanctify the whole. If Faith be nursed by Nature's hand, What matter, where the ebbing sand Of life runs out, so 'tis in peace, And finds, at length, a calm release ; What recks it, whether o'er his tomb, The Daisy or the Lichen bloom ; What if, low sighing o'er his grave, The transatlantic Cyprus wave ; What matter, if upon his bier, The dew-drop cheat the kindred tear, If murmuring forests sound his rest, In lieu of Bell, and sleeved Priest, * Whose hope, unlimited and free, Hath centred in Eternity, Where the world's ends together meet, And severed souls each other greet. * It is far indeed from the Author's intention to shew disrespect to the offices of Eeligion ; hut the scene of the Emigrant's location was supposed to be beyond the boun- daries where civilization is providing for these rites. PART III. 61 Faith guides him on his easy way, Peace steals his willing breath away, And through each vast improving age, He leaves his sons a heritage, At least a freeman's right to toil, To win, and to possess the soil. THE END. bath: printed bybinns and GOODWIN. This book is DUE on the last date stamped below 7fm "J ■%r s fcj^T