fMl 3tt)aca, Kcm IHoxb BOUGHT WITH THE INCOME OF THE SAGE ENDOWMENT FUND THE GIFT OF HENRY W. SAGE 1891 Cornell University Library PS 1139.B6P7 Poems of the prairies / 3 1924 022 018 273 The original of tliis book is in tine Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924022018273 POEMS OF THE PRAIRIES /> /■; o y A R D B /,' o \y y Ala.v still the patriot, and the patriot bard In brii^ht succession rise her ornament and fruard BURN'S DES MOINES MILLS & COMPANY PUBLISHERS I860 A45:«-i-lD^ Entered according to Act o( Congress, in tlie year isii,"), by LEONARD BROWN, In thi' Clerk's Office of the District Court of the Unit.a states for tlie District of Iowa. MILLS A rOMl'\>\- Nt. 4fl Court \-. DEDICATION. p. p. INGALLS :— Reveeend Sie:— Having myself tasted the " ashen ei'ust " bestowed upon a homeless child, by a cold world, I can but love the man who Is laboring as you are to establish a home and school for orphan children. As an expression of sympathetic gratitude I dedicate to you this, my little Book, — the earnest labors of an obscure youth. I doubt not you will receive this humble mark of my esteem in a spirit not unlike His who approved of the widow's mite. With highest wishes for your welfare, I am ever yours, LEONARD BROWN. TO THE READER. The author took the hint for the style of the Poem ou " Fash- ion " from the remarks of Dryden upon the satires of Varro. Dryden says, " This sort of satire was not only composed of sev- eral sorts of verse, like those of Ennlus, but was also mixed with prose, and Greek was also sprinkled with the Latin. " Many parts of that poem were originally written in prose where the author thought the sentiment not suited to verse. He afterward placed it all in stanzas — many of them, however, resembling verse, only In the recurrence of rhyme. In the lines on " Intemperance, " what is said of the Germans is meant to apply to those only whose habits ai'e such as described in the poem, and not to the Christian and patriotic, oi whom there are many. The greater part of the poems in this volume were writtm before the War, and while the author was quite young. He wrote " Our Country " when he was nineteen years old. The learning the author has acquired was sought under many difficulties and discouragements. It has been his earnest desire to fit himself for usefulness In life. How hard have been his struggles, is known to himself and God. He would here express his grateful thanks to the benevolent men who helped him in his need, especi- ally to J. A. Nash, James Smith, and A. J. Stevens. He hopes his verses may prove interesting to the reader. If they give encour- agement to any in pursuit of knowledge and virtue they were not written In vain. THE AUTHOR. Des Moines, September 12, isij^. POEMS. POESY. l*^tS Poesy, then, only garden flowers, ^mM That cultivated with a kindly care. With heauty glow, and sweetly scent the air, And lovers languish in the leafy bowers? 'Tis might — behold the dreaded lion cowers (Before the strong man) smitten in his lair'; See the fierce Norman slay the Russian bear! 'Tis beauty not unlike the smiling Hours ! 'Tis might and beauty gracefully combined — See Dian in the groves with bow and quiver; She slays the tusky boar, pursues the hind; She views her radiant tresses in the river, And chaste in beauty, blesses all mankind — Ah, God to man of Poesy 's the giver! 10 HAPPINESS. HAPPINESS. 5^^(B[EBE is a soul-land. Lost from all things real, 'k'^Jk The spirit wanders amid bowers of pleasure; Bright Angels sparkle brilliant beyond mea- sure — All's light and love in this fair land ideal. Where is this soul-land? Every human being Has it within — ah, beautiful, supernal! It is in miniature the Heaven Eternal ; 'Tis Eden planted by the Great All-Seeing. But who may wander in the lovely Aidenn? The gates are open of the fields Elysian, And I can see no mortal in my vision, But may pass in and be with pleasures laden. Ah! enter in and live with love forever — From Virtue, Hope, Content, be parted never ! MOTHER. n MOTHER. Mother, could I but uprear to thee A monument immortal as thy love! Thou dwellest, mother, in the courts above, From ills of life, from sorrow ever free — Thou hadst not, mother, aught of vanity ; But thou, a Christian woman, ever strove In holy walks and in the heavenly grove To lead thy children ever lovingly; Nor books perused, except the Book of God ; To thee in childhood learning was denied; But ever in the path of duty trod. With holy zeal, and Jesus was thy guide — Religion was a crown about thy brow — Mother, I kncm thou art an Angel now. 1-' ADALIXE. ADALINE. Y(^!|HE was so tender, loviug, meek and mild ! 'S&k Ah, parents, sisters, brotliers, now repine; For Death hath talien little Adaline! Her grave is in the lonely forest wild; And she's among the pure and undeflled. Where none will ever her bright fame malign. Why I am sad I cannot well define; In Heiven far happier is the blessed child! To lose a loving sister or a brother. Although we know they have gone home to God, Or see departing a beloved mother — Hear rattling on her coflln lids the clod — It wrings the heart; it rends the soul amain — Ah, never more will come bright joy again! 10 MY SISTER. 13 TO MY SISTER. [ND thou art far away, my sister dear; The Rocky Mountains look down on thy home — They rise above and pierce the heavenly dome — The roaring of their torrents smites thy ear; The piercing winds that through the canyons sweep, Chill thee in Winter with their biting cold; The snow-capped summits of the rocky steep. Display a beauty I would glad behold. Thou rockest thy beloved boy to sleep. Remembering brothers, sisters, father old, Far, far away — and thou dost, sister, weep: But soon art comforted; thy husband bold. Though savages may threaten dread alarms. Enwraps thee safely in his loyal arms. OUR COUNTRY. jN a shore far remote, in days now long past, P^Some God-fearing men, wliose possessions were vast, Bade adieu to their homes and fields of bright grain. In a small ship of burden to cross the rough main. Xor treasures, nor plunder they sought o'er the seas ; The flag of Religion they spread to the breeze, Displaying this motto, expressive and odd: "Rebellion to tyrants is duty to God." Away from a land of oppression they bore, And sought for a truly republican shore, "Where men in their worship are fearless and free — Behold them approaching the great Zuyder-Zee. Beyond the broad ocean America lay, "Where the sun drives his chariot at close of the day ; Savage men and wild beasts had there their abode; OUB COUNTRY. 15 But there, too, the Temple of Liberty stood. The heroes of faith saw its dome from afar. And hailed it again as their beaconing star. They rode on the bosom of Ocean once more; They came to a bleak and a desolate shore; No Dido received them at Old Plymouth Eock ; At the doors of no princely mansion they knock ; Old Boreas, winter-robed, stood on the strand. To welcome the coming of that pilgrim band. O, Puritan fathers, your names we revere; How great were your labors and sufferings here ; How sorely harassed by your wild Indian foes; How Famine oppressed you with direful woes ! Your God you heard whisper in every breeze That passed o'er the mountains or sang through the trees, — "Ye children of Freedom, press on to the prize; A glorious nation from you shall arise!" The axe of the woodman advances its strokes; The forest of ages is shorn of its oaks; And thousands of freemen dwell on the bright shore, Where the rod of Oppression may reach them no more. 16 OUB COUNTBY., Hermea, lovely maiden, given sweetly to rest, Once dreamed that a serpent lay coiled on her breast — ]So dreams of dread reptiles our fathers harassed. But worse than a Hydra assailed them at last — A desperate tyrant, whose treacherous aim Was the spirit of freedom to thoroughly tame — ',' Go tame the proud Bison, the prairie that roams; Tame him as he breathes the free air of your homes. "Brother, please hand me my scabbard and linife; I go to the conflict; I'm bound for the strife! Dearest maiden, cease weeping; good mother, fare- well; Those proud British foemen I, too, must help quell ; I know my loved sisters may suffer for bread,'; I know, too, my father all gory lies dead! Did not he with brave Warren, the last on the field His life for his children most willingly yield? Shall I proudly boasting his blood in my veins Shrink back while a hope for my country remains? Away to our chieftain, my stead must be fleet ! The chieftain so gallant at Braddock's defeat! Bold hearts now assemble; their swords glitter bright ; They go where he leads in defense of the right, Neath the banner of freedom— the eagle on high — OUB COUNTRY. n To conquer, and triumph, or willingly die!" "Go son, saith the matron, go join in the strife; She sends you who loves you, who gave you your life— 'Gainst famine we cheerfully trust in His care Who looks to the sparrow th^t falls through the air, .This Bible take with you wherever you roam. That God may protect you and guide you safe home, If not to our dwelling on earth here of love, To a mansion more pleasing in Heaven above." What tyrant e'er conquered a spirit like this? What Gesler could humble brave Tell of the Swiss? No bravery or fortitude ever was shown By any bold people surpassing our own; The dread British Lion they humbled in pride; The monster Oppression fell gasping and died. And reward for their labors thus fully they gained. The great "Declaration of Freedom" maintained! They said, "We have triumphed; this la,nd is our own; But then must there here be established a throne? How soon would we rue that perfidious power! How soon would be banished from Freedom's fair bower. 18 OUJR COUNTRY. Contemplate the picture, instructive and true, That pages historic exhibit to view ! Behold there all Monarchy shrouded in gloom. And grim Aristocracy, black as the tomb! Superstition and Ignorance their pinions unfold — The blind and deluded are easily controlled. At the top of the canvass old Greece stands alone — O, gaze on her splendor that for ages has shone The light of the world! The pride of mankind! Most radiantly glorious ! Of all most refined ! There thought was unfettered ; all the land a great school — Man rose to perfection — "Why? — Tlie people bore rule! Look, too, at proud Rome, the Plebeian in power, Subduing the world, as it were, in an hour!" So led were our fathers a Republic to choose; But the child of their choice did monarchs amuse! For the day it should die and be cast in the sea, They planned to themselves quite a grand jubilee. Since then the "weak babe" has a Hercules grown ; At his look now dread Monarchy quakes on her throne ; OUR COUNTRY. 19 A giant Antaeus in his arms has been crushed; The voice of oppressors to silence is hushed; The world, we may say, he bears up with all ease ; Golden apples are snatched from the Hesperides — Golden apples of freedom, fairest fruit ever known, Through him shall all nations receive as their own ! My Country, I love thee, thy prairies and hills; Thy broad, flowing rivers and murmuring rills; Thy greatness be sung to the true poet's lyre, In strains that such freedom alone can inspire! American youth, behold where you stand! To you must be given the care of this land ! Prepare for your calling; be worthy the trust; Let not our proud banner be dragged in the dust! Then banish ambition, and avarice and pride. That a true pvblio spirit may ever abide. 'Twas the loss of this anchor that sunk mighty Eome. Be ever, Columbia, the patriot's home! June, 1857. IOWA. PART FIRST. THE PAST. A MOKNING'S MEDITATION ON THE BANKS OF THE DES MOINES. "Every human heart is human." IiONGFELIiOW. ^;g^«T is a pleasant summer morn ; fejKGently waves the growing corn; From the leafy groves, the air Wafts a fragrance everywhere; And along the eastern sky Lovely sunbeams greet the eye, That o'er fairy clouds diffuse Tinges of unnumbered hues. At length the Sun himself appears, Great herald of revolving years ! And smiles as raidant and young As when immortal Ossian sung! Thou giver of the lovely day ! Prom thee I turn my face away; I cannot for a moment brook 24 IOWA. Thy searching glance, thy piercing look ; But gladly on this stream I gaze, From which thy ever-splendent rays Have driven the mists, that o'er it spread Dark as the living cloud so dread That hovered o'er a pleasant land As one of old "stretched out his hand." I love upon these banks to stray Thus at the sweet approach of daj% And gazing on the beauteous stream To wander in poetic dream. I hear a distant lonely sound, That carries sadness all around! 'Tis of the ever mournful dove Sighing for her absent love. Here let me recline my head Pensive on this mossy bed Nearer by the river side, Where waters murmur as they glide. That my ear may catch again The ever tender, saddening strain; For it moving, moaning on Recalls to mind the loved ones gone. Whom bright angels bore away IOWA. To realms of everlasting day. Now there comes a deeper moan ; 'Tis sadder than a dying groan! The waves are sighing as they flow — Methinks are singing as they go, A mournful, melancholy lay — The dirge of a departed day. SONG OF THE "WAVES. The dead! The dead! The dead are here! Ask not the day, ask not the year, When loved ones bore them on the bier. And laid them lowly in the ground, And made the monumental mound! Age hath followed ages fast; The streams new channels formed and past, And deep through rocks have worn their way Since they bowed them in the clay: The patriot brave, who thoughtful stood Looking down upon this flood; His country's wrongs were in his breast ; Eye-flashing rage his look expressed. 26 IOWA. Revenge resolving on her foes — His blood redeemed Iier from her woes; Rest thee, O warrior, in repose! The lovely maid who oft of yore Gathered wild flowers on this shore, Strolling in the happy grove. Caroling a song of love; Xow bathing in the limpid waves; Now in the cooling breeze she laves, And gazing, like fair Eve, with pride In the pellucid mirror-tide. Viewing there her form and face, All radiant with every grace, She modestly and sweetly smiled — Behold her Nature's lovely child! She sleeps in death low in the ground Beneath the ancient grassy mound. And the Bard (whose song was given — A light to guide from Earth to Heaven) There lies, with harp beneath his head, Unstrung, decayed; its voice is dead! To all resistless was its spell, While sang the aged Minstrel 10 WA. 27 The sylvan beauties of these streams; The hero's wondrous deeds and dreams; Love's longing looks, and soul-born smiles ; Her hidden hopes, and winsome wiles. And shall its strains no more arise Rejoicing to these western skies, As wild birds sing, and waters flow, And lovely prairies verdant grow! O, stream, how touching is thy lay! And must great worth thus find decay. And all man's glory fade away? THE INDIAN. From thee has gone the Indian brave ; Nor Sac, nor Pox beholds thy wave; And yet upon thy margin green Not long ago his lodge was seen, In its wild, fantastic form^ An humble covert from the storm; His trembling nlaize-fleld stood hard by; His bean- and melon-patch was nigh; His pony fed upon the plain — See all the Indian had of gain ! IOWA. And well content when thus supplied; His every want was satisfied; His happy heart with love of gold Had not begun to rot or mould; The needy stranger at the door Was welcome to the red man's store. I have often in delight Seen the meteor at night, With a glorious display, Darting hurriedly away Across the star-bespangled sky, Joying in its course on high; It soon vanished from my view. Buried in the boundless blue, Leaving not a trace behind Of the glory it resigned. The Indian passed away, and lo! What is left behind to show That he drew Ulysses' bow? He often earned immortal fame; But what perpetuates his name? What monument remains to tell Where, like Leonidas, he fell? Many an unknown field may be IOWA. 29 A Marathon or Thermopylae ! All he for ages said or did Must ever lie in darkness hid; Only here a grassy sod Marks where once his wigwam stood, And some little pits remain That in Winter held his grain. The sweet-flowing "Chicaqua," * And the bright " Asipala," t Lost are these names to rivers clear; "While the ruder ones we hear Ungrateful to the poet's ear! Still round the graves, and o'er the dead Some^mossy bark and boards are spread; It was of these the mourners made A little wigwam for his shade. To be for it a sheltering home. Until he o'er the prairie roam. And, wandering, find the rolling flood. That flows this side the happy wood — The ever-joyful hunting ground In which exhaustless game is found — There — if his course of life had been * Skunk River. t Raccoon River. 30 IOWA. Free from the dark trace of sin^ Pie would cross the trembling log With his ever-faithful dog, And join his comrades in the chase And live in endless happiness: If like the hound, he come there hoarse From baying on a vicious course. He cannot reach the happy wood But, reeling, falls into the flood; Then rolling, howling, in the tide, He struggles for the nearest side — Every effort is in vain, To reach the wood-land or the plain ; The rushing wave, with mighty roar Sweeps him to a barren shore — Degraded there in poverty He finds eternal misery. Meandering the prairies green Still the Indian path is seen, Bending over woody hills. Crossing sweetly flowing rills. Wandering near it thoughtfully, . Imaginings most pleasantly, IOWA. 31 Like visions of the fairest kind, Came on bright before my mind. A CEREMONY. I saw a long, lamenting train Of women passing o'er the i)Iain Appearing as they had before Annually in days of yore; Moaning matrons moving on, And weeping widows^ one by one ; Sorrowing sisters were the last In the procession as it passed — So very sad ; and yet, I ween. There never was a lovelier scene Than they presented to my sight. Performing this religious rite, Of bearing gifts, and proffering To their dead -an offering. All the maidens passed along Chanting wild and mournful song. THE INDIAN MAIDS' SONG. " Again returns the day of sadness ! " Again returns the day of gladness ! 32 IOWA. "The Great Spirit lias bereft us; "The Great Spirit has not left us! "Friends are gone; nor do we greet them; " Friends are gone ; but we shall meet them ; "Good Spirits hover o'er us lightly; "Good Spirits shine above us brightly; "From the rocks and caves they started; " From the rocks and caves departed, "When they heard us weeping, moaning — "When they heard us sighing, groaning; "On their swan-like wings came fleeting; "On their swan-like wings came greeting— "Greeting us, and now are near us; "Greeting us with words to cheer us: "Weep no more; be not fearful; "Weep no more; be calm and cheerful — " The Great Spirit loves you dearly ; "The Great Spirit knows how nearly " His good children are unto him ; " His good children all shall view him ; " View him and dwell with him ever ; "View him and be parted never; " Never more shall sigh in sorrow ; "Never more shall dread the morrow! " Let this, then, be day of gladness ; " Let it not be one of sadness ; " Weep no more ; be not fearful ; "Weep no more; be calm and cheerful!" And appearing truly fair, With their zephyr-combed hair Flowing over shoulders bare, And the dark expressive eye, Hopeful turned toward the sky- Angel form ; romantic dress ; JtOWA. 38 They were queens in loveliness! Now all have reached the burial place, And there I can more clearly trace The deepening of their wild distress — The dead they mournfully address ! The Mother thus: '/My babe so dear! "My little darling, O, come near; "Let me again behold thy face, "And "with fond Isisses, thee embrace! "Something I see most lovely, fair, "And bj'ight, above me In the air — " 'Tis sure, 'tis sure my very child ! " Come nearer still, thou vision mild, "And never, never more depart! "O, could I press thee to my heart! "Thariks, thanks to Onwenah above, "Who thus would spare thee in his love, " To calm thy mother's stormy breast, "To give her wearied spirit rest; " For now, no more, no more I weep ! "My soul with rapture glories deep; " Since I behold on wings of light, "My child, so beautiful and bright!" The widow: " O, my husband, why, " Why wilt thou not descend from high, "And to my sorrowing soul convey "Of thy bright joy a single ray! " Forlorn, forlorn, I here must be ! " O, dearest, dearest, pity me, " And take me once again to thee ! " Enwrap me in thy arms once more, "And on the bright celestial shore, "Where nothing in immortal groves 3 34 IOWA. " May ever more distract our loves ! "O, husband! wheji with lagging pace, "Thou art returning from the chase, " Oppressed with toll ; thy arrows spent ; " Thy back with fleshy burden bent ; "AVho now doth strain her anxious sight "To see thee gain the woody hight, "And, when thy shadow there doth stray, "So soon is on her willing way "To bear a part of thy dull load "And lead thee to the fair abode, ""Where viands for thee she hath blest " That thou may'st eat and sweetly rest ? "And when thou llest wrapped in sleep "Doth o'er thee midnight vigil keep, "And, as the moon, serenely bright, "Enchants the wigwam with her light — "Reveals the features of thy face "Who doth thee lovingly embrace?" "Brothers [thus the sisters said] "Return from wandering with the dead! "Receive this offered gift of ours; " Receive these lovely prairie flowers ! "We lay them gently on the tomb " To please you with their sweet perfume ; "They are the fairest we can flud "Disporting in the- prairie wind! "On plucking them they seemed to say, " ' We gladly go with yon away " ' To form the happiest bouquet ! " ' A token, beautiful, of love " ' From friends below to friends above — ' " And other presents, too, we bring "With this our kindly offering. " Your bows and arrows here we place ; " For you may need them in the chase ; "And your ornaments so fair, " We now leave them in your care ; IOWA. 35 " On your graves no wilding grows ; " Pebbles mark where you repose ; "Pebbles that to-day we took " From the gently flowing brook ; " And above you they are spread " As on the silvery minnow's bed — " Here we also leave you food ; " For It Is a weary road "You again must travel o'er "Ere you reach the happy shore. " This said, the radiant vision fair Vanished quickly into air. THE TWO BROTHERS. And then two youths of gentle mien Went gliding by me o'er the green, Who so great beauty had, and grace, And loveliness in form and face, That (as I had not long before Been glancing into ancient lore) I thought of wSlneis — goddess born! How he when cast away, forlorn, Upon the Carthagenian strand Did first before Queen Dido stand. Delivered from the misty cloud That hid him from the busy crowd — How beauty sparkled in his eyes. Beauty descended from the skies! 36 10 WA. The goddess curled his flowing hair; Gave him youthful vigor rare; Crowned his brow with ambient light; Made his face serenely bright, Like polished ivory beauteous bold, Or Parian marble gemmed with gold. I thought of fair Apollo, too. With his far-shooting silver bow. And golden quiver, glittering high. And arrows dipped in healing dye — God of benevolence and truth ; The god of beauty and of youth — Immortal, glorious, fearless, young — Sweet his heavenly lyre rung; The soul of harmony he fired ; The silent Muses he inspired. Would thou, my Muse, by him were taught, Had spark of heavenly fire caught, Like sirens on the lonely isle. To charm the passer-by awhile. That he might lend attentive ear This story from thy lips to hear — (Of no imaginary act. But well-authenticated fact) Of love two youths each other bore — IOWA. 37 So great as seldom known before! They brothers were, and they were men; And true they were not "white;" but then 'Tis not the Color of the skin That tells us of the heart within. They lived together; hunted game; And beside, they thought of fame. However much men in their talk, The love 6f glory seem to mock, Should they' the truth in candor own, Would gladly have their own names known. For 'tis a feeling, and confessed Which dwells in almost every breast From that of humblest of the earth To those of highest rank and birth. And God himself — Ancient of Days! Commands that men shall sing his praise. Who would not like the Condor, seek To gain the Andes' highest peak. Could he thence on wings arise. And soar toward the azure skies And pass pale Cynthia in his flight; And on the morning star alight, "And there amid eiffulgence dwell For longer timie than tongue can tell! 38 IOWA. No labors are for man too hard Where renown is the reward; For this did Raphael command The pencil with untiring hand; For this Bethoven, deaf and old, Unwrapped sweet music's every fold; For this blind Milton sought in song, And toiled so deep, and toiled so long! The love of praise raised up, we know, Demosthenes and Cicero; 'Twaa this that fashioned the "Greek Slave;" 'Twas this made Bonaparte so brave. Among Red Men the surest way To honor is the foe to slay; Him they call supremely great Who can most martial deeds relate. The brothers, then, we cannot blame For feeding the heroic flame. The elder, chasing deer one day Beyond the prairies, far away. Came where the hunting ground he saw Of the long hated Dakota ; Before his mind rose every one Of all the wrongs that had been done By that dread people to his own — IOWA. 39 (His aged father they had slain, Whilst he was passing o'er the plain, And ere they let his soul depart, Tore from his breast his bleeding heart. And flend-like, laughed to see it pant — On high they flung it for a taunt ! ) Could he restrain his raging ire,— From his veins expel the fire, — As appeared distinct in view One that seemed the savage Sioux? "Be true, said he, my trusty bow, Lay the abhorred villain low ! " And then an arrow keen he took; With flint 'twas pointed from the brook; And feathered from the eagle's wing; And bound around with sinew string. The bow he drew with mighty force; The dart went hissing on its course. Unseen, so swift it winged the air; He saw it seek the bosom bare; And, though afar it then had sped, He saw the blood come gushing red. The victim threw his hands on high And sunk upon the turf to die; The victor made exulting shout — 40 10 WA. A foe was slain he had no doubt. — O youth, what fate must thee attend, Should it not prove a foe; but friend i Now with an eager haste he ran, And stood above the dying man, And stooping down the scalp to take, (A trophy for his honor's sake) When lo, instead of hated Sioux, The friendly Iowa he knew! He paused; the knife fell to the ground; He drew the arrow from the wound. Like the stem commander bold Who by the messenger is told, " The city of deserved hate Will on no terms capitulate; But dare unto the latest hour With deadly scorn defy his power. " Anger rushes to his face; He cries aloud "The mortars place; For she shall yield in dire disgrace! " Ten thousand comets, as it were. Soon are flaming in the air, As if their course had wrathful fled To descend upon her head! Death and Destruction reign around ; IOWA. 41 And mighty Ruin strews the ground ! Behold! her gates she opens wide; The hero enters them in pride! His plume is waving in the wind; His soldiers follow him behind; High he holds his peerless head; Beneath his feet he spurns the dead; Until he finds, — now free from pain, — A lovely lady 'raong the slain — An unoffending mother best, With smiling infant at her breast! Behold the hero bowing low! He cannot, cannot leave it so ! Adown his cheek the tear doth flow! He takes the babe upon his arm. And saves the innocent from harm. And so the youth ; how his heart bled ! How fain would he have raised the dead! Alas ! he finds his grief too late ; So firm are the decrees of fate! Before those eyes a darkness rose; The spirit sought a long repose. Awhile he stands in mute suspense; Then with a tender eloquence : " And_thou hast found the spirit land, 42 IOWA. Sent by an undeslgning hand; My hopes with thine are at an end; For this my death must make amend." And then his way he homeward bent Soliloquizing as he went: "No, he did it purposely ^Vnd to escape doth falsify. Thus will they answer my defense, When I avow my innocence Of having murdered by design. I plainly see what fate is mine, And to the same myself resign." Some months had passed, when men were sent, Plim to demand for punishment; And they found him on his bed; Disease had humbled low his head ; Yet willing was at their command, To rise and seek the foreign land; And their unfeeling orders were: "By coming morn he should prepare With them to go upon the way; Or ill or well, he must obey." IOWA. 43 THE INDIAN VILLAGE. A lovely "Iowa" village stood Within the shadow of a wood, And by the margin of a stream ; How happy did its people seem ! Around the council-house behold A great concourse of young and old ! Is not the purpose of the throng The revenging of a wrong ? And was the youth torn from his bed, And here before accusers led? A youth of humble modesty Within the council-house we see; Such beauty brightening in his face As would well an angel grace; Reclining lowly on the ground. While chiefs and braves, with look profound, Are seated in a circle round. Behold the leading chief arise ! Now on the youth he rests his eyes, And|;thus he speaks in accents slow: "Ere this the just avenging blow Deep in the dust had laid you low ; But ancient custom of our land. 44 IOWA. Bids that you first before us stand, "With privilege of self defense, "With all you have of eloquence. " And so, the youth rose from the ground, And cast a pleasant look around; Then from his robe freed his right arm, And stood erect, nor in alarm. All eyes were turned on the young man, As with sweet accent he began : "Fathers! I have my death song sving; "With Joy my voice its num.bei's rung; " For as I came along to die, "I heard the honey-bee flit by; "Its course it turned toward the sky. "Methought it spake my spirit so: " ' Arise, arise, from fields below "'To where the sweeter flowers blow! " ' Their cups of bliss to thee no more " ' ShaU close upon the happy shore. ' "Wherefore grim Death, then, should I fear? "My own free choice doth bring me here! "It is not, Fathers! my desire "That words shall mitigate your ire: "The tom'hawli on my head must fall; "Nor this may I injustice call; "It would not now the stroke prevent "To claim, my brother innocent "Of having with vile purpose slain "One of your braves upon the plain. "Fathers! here I take the place "Of him whom you would now disgrace; "Into your hands miy life I give; "O, that my brother long may live! JOWA. 45 " Upon Us bed lie lies, too 111 " Himself your mandate to fulfill ! " X eam.e without Ms own consent, "And muoli he strove me to prevent; " Such has his kindness to me been, " Would I NOT die for him, 'twere sin.' Thus having said, again he sate Him down among these men of state, And there a,waited calm his fate. Did they arise; with furious yell, Bend over him like fiends of hell, Bury the tom'hawk in his hrain, And bid him sleep, nor wake again? Ah no, full glad am I to say How well they welcomed him that day ! They freely gave the friendly hand, And bade him. with the bravest stand ; And then resolved to ma]j:e a feast In honor of the worthy guest ! So, down into the glen they go. Hard by the rivulet below ^ I trow, no fairer spot of ground In all the boundless West is found ! Dame nature tliere has carpet spread, And giant, oaks nod overhead; 'Neath craggy rock is sylvan spring, 4G IOWA. Near which by moonlight maidens sing ; Nor distant hence afar is found A spacious grot beneath the ground, Where oft young men and maids repair, And presents in their hands they bear For the good spirit that dwells there; Then as the dusky eve draws nigh, They seek a mossy seat hard by, Where they may catch the lovely sound Of water as it trickles down From a shelving rock above; Ilere they sit and talk of love ; And oftentimes prolong their stay While Hesperus darts a ray. And after she has long sought rest On her couch low in the west. A deep-worn circle, too, is seen, Near by the spring, upon the green. Where now young braves are chanting loud jVnd aged warriors, bold and proud — (All painted o'er with many a hue; And each a hieroglyphic true — Telling of the foes they slew) Are dancing many an antic round, To rudest instrumental sound; IOWA. 17 Waving the war-club oft on high Or pointing arrows to the sky, Portraying how they battles gained, Or how the Bison's blood they drained, Or how the bow from crag on high. Brought down the eagle bold to die. All the village throng is there — The young, the old, the brave, the fair So that now under every tree A group there is in gladsome glee! Participating in the sport, Their guest is happy as at court! Meanwhile are matrons hurrying fast To prepare the rich repast. Soon, at a well known signal, all, Male and female, great and small, Place themselves in order round, And seek a seat upon the ground ; While those that are of high degree On elevated mound we see — A place of greater dignity — And honored far above the rest. We may behold the youthful guest. To him they first refreshment bring. And then to others of the ring 48 IOWA. Promiscuously, till soon 'tis known That well supplied is every one; When with great joy they all partake Of bounteous gift of wood and lake ; Of maize-bread, product of the soil ; But most of fruit of huntsman's toil. The flesh of buffalo and bear ; Of the elk, and of the deer ; And fish — the pike and salmon rare — All that fair Nature here affords Graces this banquet of her lords; Much of the fruit of vine and tree And honey of the working bee. How sweet a nectar, too, they bring Trom the ever bubbling spring! Bubbling from the sands below — Sands as pure and white as snow! How happy was the feast, and long; And echoed oft the hills with song — Song of welcome to the stranger — Welcome there, all free from danger! IOWA. 49 A SONG OF WELCOME. Welcome, stranger, welcome here! Thou art welcome to our cheer! Has he not a loving brother. And may be a sister dear. And an old heart-broken mother. And an aged father near, Who are now bowed down in sorrow For this loved one good and brave, Fearing lest the coming morrow Find him slumbering in the grave? Do not think our eyes so blinded; Do not think our souls so vile; Do not think us so dark minded; Do not think us lost in guile, That we cannot see, all glowing! Light — a spark from God above! Or seeing, and its purpose knowing, Would stifle such a light of love! Welcome, stranger, welcome here! Thou art worthy of our cheer! 50 IOWA. The sun his face began to hide, Within the vast Pacific tide, Ere they the village reach again "Where all seek rest save the young men ; They on their coursers prance afar While lingers the bright evening star. It was indeed a lovely sight To look upon them by moon-light, Riding through woods and over plains — Without saddle, without reins! New all meeting in one place, Loud neigh the horses for the race; The riders bending forward then, Their coursers (more than ten times ten) Spring onward with a mighty bound; The prairies tremble far around! And thundering hoofs on air resound. They speed, they speed full fast away! But see two steeds of glossy bay — How sweet the moon-beams on them play ! They leave the others far behind — Much like the Anglo Saxon mind In great achievements for mankind. The night is past, bright morning glows ; IOWA. 51 And all have had a calm repose; And they have said their fervent prayers To Him who ever for them cares — (To the Great Spirit they do pray, At morn and eve of every day) Now, ere the stranger, guest depart. They show again a kindly heart, By making presents to him there Which he may with his brother share: Two good suits of hunters' clothes, Two wampum belts, and two strong bows; Then many of their dearest beads; And last, the pair of bright bay steeds, Which on the happy eve before In the race had triumph bore! He, joyful, went to greet his brother; Long they lived to love each other. THE CONCLUSION. And now, fair stream, have I mused long, And lengthened out a thankless song ! It is thy fault, sweet stream, I say. That I have wandered so away ! IOWA. Why do the lovely sunbeamc lave And glisten in thy rippling wave? Why do the willows on thy brink Bow down their heads and seem to drink? Why does the pretty "silvery side" Play through thy waters so in pride? Had never these my vision crossed Perhaps I had not now been lost! Why is that venerable mound Upon thy level margin found? Who made it thus of earth and stone To thee, O ancient stream, 'tis known ! I look upon it, and my mind In thought no resting place can find; I think that it, perhaps, was built Where blood, a deluge, had been spilt; Perhaps, beneath where it arose Bones of a patriot repose; While this alone by it is told: "A people dwelt here once of old" \nA seems to mention with the same": " They dwelt here ere the Indian came. " The Indian ! Keokuk the great ! Pride of a patriotic State ! In battle braver ne'er was one; IOWA. 53 In wisdom the bright noonday sun; In eloquence a crowned king — Surpassed by none in any thing That can exalt a Red Man's name And give to him. undying fam.e ! Xo power so strong — no base-born bribe Could lead him to betray his tribe — Be ye reproved, vile statesmen old, Who love your country less than gold! "I liked my towns — my corn-JieMs, too: For these,' O white man, I fought you ! " Thus speaks the wronged Indian dead; 'Twas thus the patriot Blackhawk said. Be long, my lovely Iowa, be Home of as noble hearted free! Thou stream farewell ! I shall be lorn 'Till smiling dawns another morn, When here I once again may stray And while an happy hour away! June, 1858. IOWA. PART SECOND. THE PRESENT. A MOKNING'S MEDITATION OK THE BANKS OF THE DES MOIKES. "Let all the ends thou almest at be thy country's, Thy God's and truth's." SHAESPEABE. now the wished-for morn behold; 2The Sun displays his crown of gold — But many smiling days have flown — The dove hath uttered many a moan, Since I, reclining here alone, Mused in melancholy mood. As the sorrowful Past I viewed. Let m^y thoughts this morning be From all melancholy free; Indeed, the Present gives my mind. Of images a pleasing kind ; And the future meets my view Illumined with a golden hue. Are not these "Western streams as fair 58 IOWA. As Tiber, Thames, the Seine, or Ayer, Danube, Vistula, Guadalquivir, Or any European river? If e'en to Asia I should go. And there behold the Hoang Ho, Euphrates, Indus, Irawaddy, Bramapootra, and Cambodia; And stray through Africa awhile^ Behold the Niger and the Nile — "When from my wanderings I come And view again the streams at home, I ask, would these not seem to me As fair as those beyond the sea? Iowa, virgin state, is seen Arrayed now in her robes of green — A maid of more than mortal charms - Diana in two happy arms, As if from high come down again To fair Endymion of men. The river on her eastern side Exalts my patriotic pride! It needs no sounding trump of fame To send abroad the well-known name. The English bard would glad depart From the monotony of Art, IOWA. 5!) Displayed before him all the while Upon his much-loved native Isle, Where hedges white in May as snow Checker the land where'er he go — The flowery scene is fair, I know; But Nature, wild and primitive. There no longer seems to live, — Right glad would he depart, I say, On Mississippi's banks to stray. Along young Iowa's western side Plows the Missouri deep and wide — Rivers beautiful and great Are the pride of any State; And who will question this so true. That Iowa hath not a few? Hers are the great and little Sioux, The Turkey and Makoqueta, Red Cedar, and the Iowa, Besides "wide-bottomed" Chicaqua — Asipala (or swift Raccoon) And many more, with which the Doon And the far^renowned Ayer In length nor beauty can compare. But for good reason have I passed By thee, Des Moines, to name thee last : (50 IOWA. However distant I may roam, I find no place I love like home ; And towns and cities I have seen Exceeding beautiful, I ween; But I prefer my village still, Which I behold on yon green hill; Her damsels seem to me more fair Than those I ever meet elsewhere; For some good reason do I love More than all others this my grove ; High on yon bending hickory The squirrel often speaks to me; Here on an evening calm and still I hear the lonely whippowill; While frequently I all day long Sit listening to continual song — A choir chanting in this wood A chorus to the praise of God, Who hath sent Winter far away And ushered in the vernal May. .AH creatures seem thus to rejoice. Without but one discordant voice — From beak of little warbling bird Hath any person ever heard, (Although his locks be white with years) IOWA. (>i "This world is but a vale of tears?" No, no, its little speech is this: "Behold our world, a world of bliss!" It is indeed a very shame; It is blaspheming God's high name, Who built the starry dome above. Who filled the universe with love, Crowned Beauty as a queen to reign O'er all His glorious domain, That any creature can be heard To contradict the little bird ! Yes, the happy birdies sing To welcome in the days of Spring — And what a merry, merry lay ! How it delights my mind to-day While on these pleasant banks I stray! Ah, Des Moines, need I now tell. Why 'tis I like thy shores so well? Once musing on thy banks, O stream ! I had a memorable dreanl; A beauteous maid before me stood; She semed a huntress of the wood; And -I beheld her bow unstrung; Her quiver o'er her shoulder hung; «2 IOWA. I saw not e'en an arrow there; Around it wantoned her long hair ; Her dress seemed loosely o'er her placed, Except 'twas girdled round her waist; Nor shoes had she upon her feet; Her eyes so bright knew not deceit; A lovely wreath of flowers hung Around her neck; and them she flung, With kindly smile, about my own ; Then meekly on a mossy stone She sat her down; but not alone — It did not seem to wound her pride That I sliould seat me by her side; But now she looks on me in love; She seems an Angel from above ! Ah, now she passes from my view, Glides swiftly in a bark canoe, Toward thy northern shores, fair stream. And much I sorrow in my dream! I see thy sparkling waves full plain ; She dips her paddle in again; The trees behold the swift canoe. And wave to her a kind adieu; The birds now chant a mournful lay, That she must pass from them away ; IOWA. 63 The woods and prairies grieve full sore, That they shall see her face no more — Her every movement seems to tell, In beauty none can her excel; And what a voice was hers — so clear! Methinks its accents now I hear While she glides gracefully along Still caroling her farewell song. FAREWELL SONG OF PRIMITIVE NATURE. The Sun shall continue in his kindly duty Through days without number to come. Of rising and painting this landscape with beauty, Then gliding with joy to his home. And oft will he pass by the twelve constellations That encircle the heavens above; And Spring shall respond to his kind invitations. And be seen here as oft in her love. The beautiful Summer, and Autumn fruit laden And white-bearded Winter severe, Will return like a youth at the beck of a maiden When'er he shall bid them appear. 64 IOWA. Sable Night, as if wrapped in a robe of deep mourning, Will stalk here in sadness and gloom Till the moon shall arise with her silver adorning Like a spirit goes up from the tomb. The stars gladly join her with beauty refulgent, Like eyes when they sparkle with mirth; Thick clouds are all banished; for winds were indulgent — Behold now a glorious earth ! I leave this loved land ; but I go not in sorrow ; I bid now adieu to this shore; My sister comes after to dwell here to-morrow — Sweet land, shall I see thee no more! The storm-cloud shall rise from the West with its thunder Deep-echoing terror afar; The three-forked lightning shall cleave oaks asun- der Dread shaft from a furious star. M'hen these plains are uplifted by volcanic fires, That sleep now in quiet below. IOWA. 65 And pierce the high clouds with the roclt-pointed spires Encased in perpetual snow; When these rivers have fled and are lost in the ocean ; Nor their trace can we longer discern; And all things are changed in the mighty com- motion, Behold once again I return ! As this one vanishes from sight Behold another vision bright! Another maid approaching me — Hers is the voice of "Liberty." A SONG OF "LIBERTY," Nature and I twin sisters are, We love alike the wilderness; But still we wander oft afar, And give to Art her mightiness. 'Tis I the souls of men inspire With longings for immortal fame; 66 10 WA. I kindle in their breasts the fire; I fan it to a mounting flame. Cast but a glance at ancient Greece; Whose strength exalted her so high? In war the mightiest ; in peace She seems uplifted to the sky! 'Twas Liberty gave her, her men Her men created her renown; But can I not call up again As great as wore the olive crown? Another age, another clime, Where Tyranny ne'er drew a breath, May yet behold a scene sublime — The mighty as though raised from death. Raised freed as from their former clay, Debasing passions laid aside — Raised to enjoy a full-orbed daj'-, And feel a more becoming pride. Protected by the one true God Whom they with reverence behold ; 10 WA. 67 They'll walk in paths before untrod, And darkest mysteries unfold. This lovely land they'll re-create — Make Eden bloom on earth once more; Here, here will build a noble State, Greater than Attica of yore. Will any lift the ruthless hand; By any will that stroke be given, Shall drive me from this beauteous land? He drives me back for aye to Heaven ! No, lovely creature, much I pray, That none may banish thee away; For well I know how man is blest Whilst thou continuest his guest. I would, O Liberty, that he Might bow to earth and worship thee; I would thy temples here might rise On marble columns to the skies; I would have thee adored as one Next to Jehovah and his Son. — Young men, and maidens, let us raise To her a daily hymn of praise! 68 IOWA. Des Moines, upon thy verdant shore May she continue evermore! ^May never gaze on thee, that tiling The curse of liuman-kind-^a king; INIay never look upon thy wave. While time shall last, a trembling slave! Upon thy northern wave the Sioux Ts paddling still his birch canoe ; "What lovely prospect meets my view ! The rolling prairies, like a sea In vast and wild sublimity, There lie with an unbroken sod, Untilled but by the hand of God; He sows the seeds of grass and flowers; He moistens them with vernal showers; But look abroad in summer-time; I'm sure in England's foggy clime; With all the aid that Art affords; With all the efforts of rich lords; A garden blooming half so fair Never yet has flourished there. What are her parks, to one who here Has chased the bison, elk, and deer, O'er pathless plains, and tlirough wild woods IOWA. 69 And wandered in those solitudes, Wliere could be heard no grating sound Of mill, nor cattle lowing round, Nor crowing cock, nor yelping hound, Nor sportman's gun, nor tolling bell. The charms of Nature to dispel — Has watched the beaver build like men, And killed the wild duck and marsh hen ; Caught wolves and badgers, lynx, raccoon, . And shot on Spirit Lake the loon. Ah, Spirit Lake! she is to-day As beautiful as Loch-Achray! 'Tis true, the "Minstrel" here can view No lofty rocks, no Ben-venue; Here Nature doffs her awful charms; — Holds out to him her lovely arms. I mount on Fancy's wings the air; I seek a woody island, where Upon a grassy couch reclined. Fond recollections throng my mind. Of happy days, when but a child, I glided o'er such waters wild. And glad on every danger smiled; The little boat ray father guides ; 70 10 \VA. My playful hands hang o'er its sides, And dabble in the foaming waves, That rise like spectres from the graves — I do not know their rage to fear; Their music joyfully strikes mine ear. 'Tis thus I yet on life's waves ride, By no wild brealcers terrified; I let them roll unheeded by. Nor seem to know the danger nigh — Content and hope fill up my breast. And threat what will, I still am blest! Protected by a Father's care. Approach not fear; away despair! The raging winds have sought their caves, And now subsided are the waves; Not e'en a rush is seen to shake ; So smooth the surface of the lake; I see the fishes at their play; I see them quickly dart away; What dreadful form to them appears. That now so mightily wakes their fears? A giant monster moving slow And dips two frightful fins below. Thus men take fright oftimes as great IOWA. 71 At monsters their own fears create; Church-yards by night swarm with grim ghosts, Dark Hades has dire fiends by hosts, And Pluto reigns supreme o'er all That dwell within the horrid wall. We now pass round a point of land Where branching cedars thickly stand; Wild berries, plums, and grapes abound. And nuts of many kinds are found. But what a lovely prospect lies Outspread before my gladdened eyes! The lake with boats is dotted o'er From yon small village on the shore; The fisherman sinks down his seine And rows toward that shore again; And the light anchors others weigh Who have been angling all the day. And homeward turn; because the sun liis daily course has well-nigh run; While each loud sound the paddles make Is borne by Echo o'er the lake. And her sweet voice is plainly heard To answer each loud^spoken word — But hark! what tender sound I hear. JOWA. That strikes so mournfully mine ear! 'Tis borne on Zephyr's wings from far The music of a soft guitar. ADIEU. I love my country's maidens, Wherever I may roam ; But those that are most dear to me Are of my village home; Because I love that village; I love her hills around; Her woods and her wild prairies; Her streamlets' murmuring sound. There comes a voice unbidden, Nor can I tell thee why. Commanding me to love my home — That voice is from on high. While I have been a stranger. Far from that home away, There never has unkindness yet Beclouded my fair day. IOWA. 73 Iso maid has e'er despised me, Altliougli of high degree; Nor has she ever spumed me From her sweet company. Must tlie tear of bitter grief Now first be made to start; Must the heaviest strolte be given Against my feeling heart, ( Bj' tliose I prize so highly Of my own village home, By those I prize more highly far Than wealth of ancient Rome? But now I am determined Ah ! never more to feel Such cruel wound upon my heart, Worse than a wound of steel ! >So, in the happy woods I'll seat Me on a mossy stone; I'll strike upon my sounding harp And leave the maids alone ! 74 10 WA. Dame Nature, I shall woo her With all my words of love; I'll woo the flowers of the ground; I'll woo the birds above; I'll woo the gentle sunset; I'll woo the evening breeze, While it sings on joyful wings xVmong my forest trees ! A large and handsome boat I see; It bears a happy company, That came to spend a joyful day Upon this little cape in play — Gathering fruits, and wreathing flowers; Reclining 'neath the shady bowers, Formed by Nature's sylvan fingers Where a wood-nymph still she lingers. Plucking water-lillies fair To adorn her raven hair; Holding in her lovely hand A branch of cedar for a wand; Protecting all the living things That walk the earth, or fly on wings; Directing the industrious bees IOWA. 75 To take for mansions her tall trees; Painting the wings of butterflies With colors, like the evening skies. To-day, beneath her shades so cool, Those of a Christian Sabbath School Sat down and drank of happiness — Drank from the cup of social bliss. But now at evening they forsake The grove and sail upon the lake; As towards their homes they haste along. All are joined in sacred song. A PSALM OF DAVID. O, now let us sing to the Lord a new song. For marvelous deeds hath He done; With His holy arm and right hand ever strong He hath the great victory won. By love hath He conquered, salvation made known And now may the heathen rejoice — To them is His righteousness openly shown; They hear His kind welcoming voice. 7G IOWA. Plow well He remembered ia mercy and truth To smile upon Israel, too ; The ends of the earth — all the aged and youth, Are led His salvation to view. Let all the wide world to Him joyfully raise A noise of thanksgiving on high ; With the voice of a psalm on the harp, sing His praise — Sing praise unto Him who is nigh. With trumpets and sound of the glad cornet make A joyful noise to our King; Let seas loudly roar, and their creatures awake. And the world, and all in it, sing. Let floods clap their hands; let the gladsome hills smile Before Him who bade them have birth — He Cometh, and they shall behold Him erewhile With righteousness judging the earth ! But now I leave this lake's wild shore, Perhaps to visit it no more. — Iowa — thirteen years a State IOWA. 77 And now appears among the great! Let her proud banner he unfurled And borne in triumph round the world ! "O, I have found the beauteous one— The fairest land beneath the sun ! " Thus strangers when they first behold This land more bright than glittering gold; Thus speak they when their eyes first greet Her plains, like boundless fields of wheat; When first her vast green forests rise Conspicuous before their eyes; When first they see her rivers roll Through fields exhaustless of rich coal ; When first her marble beds appear; When to her lime-stone quarries near; When they her mines of lead explore; When they behold her iron ore And copper on the river shore, And fire-clay and quartzite sand, And gypsum underneath the land. Thus is she great in mineral worth; She is the garden of the earth ! How very wise in all her laws ! How glorious in Freedom's cause! B JOWA. On the Escutcheon give her far The broadest stripe, the brightest star ! Escutcheon of the thirty-three — The coat-of-arms of Liberty, And of a noble family! Yes, Iowa indeed is fair; Of streams of water has her share ; Is rich in minerals; and her soil "Will bless for aye the plowman's toil. Who o'er the prairies looks abroad, And does not see the hand of God Preparing them through ages past To be the homes of men who cast The seed abroad, and reap again ^\. rich reward in golden grain ! Who has prophetic ken to tell How many millions here may dwell ; What mighty deeds will here be done; What wreaths of laurel here be won! What men appear whose names shall stand An honor to their native land ! Jfai/, 1859. PASTORALS OF THE PRAIBIES. I. ^^HEOCEITUS, how sweet thy pastoral strains! ^^Ss "Where were ye, nymphs, in what seques- tered grove; Where were ye, nymphs, when Daphnis pined for love?" For love have died unnumbered shepherd swains; O'er all the world her sway, Love still maintains; For her fair brow, of flowers are garlands wove; Through woods disconsolate her votaries rove ; — The wild rose blooms upon these western plains; My lovely Jane 's the lily and wild rose. The prairie-lily, and blue violet; Upon her cheeks their beauties all repose — Apollo paints the evening clouds, and yet Their hues are not as beautiful as those That modestly her heart of love disclose. 82 PASTORALS OF I HE PBAIBIES. II. Why did you, when we parted last, dear Jane, Bow down your head as if you were in grief? I deem you were, and can I give relief? Say, do you fear that I may not remain True to you, love? O, think it not again! Why, dearest, I am not an Autumn leaf! You whispered, though my love to you be brief. Still yours in life would never, never ^^'ane, And that it would far hence in Heaven be bright. When you are called to live with angels there — Jane, Jane, you are my heart's chiefest delight ; Thou art to me the "fairest of the fair" — I love you, yes, I love you, and for aye; My love will brighten to the "perfect day." PASTORALS OF THE PBAIBIES. 83 III. The pretty lock of your long hair you gave To me, Jane, I will preserve forever ! No sweet relic have I of my mother. My sainted mother (she's been in her grave Twelve years now) no sweet relic save A lock of her dark hair, and mem'ry of her Prayers and many tears. Jennie, I prefer This dear relic 'bove all rubies; a slave ' To vice can I become and look upon it? Her words and thine, so kind, are near my heart ; Their hallowed influence can ne'er depart — Her love and thilie are immortal, though the sonnet That Spteaks these praises perish in a day ; For, so our fondest labors pass away. 84 PASTORALS OF THE PBAIBIES. IV. Now from my eye there falls the gushing tear; O that I now were seated by thy side, My lovely Jane, of no disdainful pride! come and let me whisper in thy ear Kind words that are not for the world to hear! And, whispering, press so tenderly thy cheek. Sweet Jennie, ever loving, ever meek, 1 worship thee, my only, only dear ! The livelong night I'd sit embracing thee — The silvery moon, so chaste and fair, alone Might* look upon us. Yes, Diana, we Would have thy company; for thou hast shone On lov«rs many a year. Thy sovereignty We would obey; for love thou, too, hast known. PASTORALS OF THE PBAIBIES. 85. V. Again' I kiss these lovely locks of hair ! Which love I best, my[ mother's, Jane, or thine ? I cannot tell; let them together twine! My love I'll equally between them share; To love them thus I never can forbear; Deep in my heart ^ehold I them enshrine! My mother loved me ; Jennie now is mine ! Her loving heart— O what a heart! — is there In Heaven a holier fount of love? The fount That jBows from 'neath the throne of God — a throne Of gold high up upon the Holy Mount! Ott earth a purer spring cannot be shown — While here I live still may I taste her love And then throughout eternity above! 80 PASTORALS OF THE PRAIBIES. VI. O Jane, that I could be with you to-day! This Autumn day; wild plums and grapes for thee I'd pluck from off the bush and vine; and we Beneath the towering trees afar would stray As we did oft in the pleasant Summer gone. Now we would sit upon a log o'ergrown With moss, and listening to the sorrowful moan Of Autumn winds, I'd read Anacreon To thee again; — no, I'd Tibulus read — Some mournful elegy of Delia's scorn, Of unrequited love. O how forlorn "Was that young man! I'm thankful that I'm freed Prom such as Delia was. My Jane will ne'er By cruelty cause me a single tear. PA.'iTQ^ALS OF THE PBAIBIES. 87 VII. Is that not, Jane, a pretty landscape, say? The "bottom" there extending to the south- west — A lovely, fertile plain that now is dressed In garment of ripe maize; — and see away Beyond the Des Moines stream, the hills so fair! As soon as night shall come flames may appear Upon their tops, darting like frighted deer, Leaving the prairies wild all black and bare! When Spring returns, how soon the tender grass And pretty floiwrers again we see. The rose And violet and lily then disclose Their beauty. I remember now, alas! Those dear love tokens I received from thee, Sonie person wickedly has stolen from me 88 PASTORALS OF THE PBAIBIES. YIII. A lovely damsel loved an humble swain — (Truly a comely maid in mind and mien ; One of more modesty was never seen; To tell the truth, it is my darling Jane ! He that's beloved by her need not complain ; She is the sun most glorious in its sheen; On whom it shines, his days must pass serene ; He never need to shed a tear again.) And she (that he'd conject whose was her heart) Placed in his Book two lovely roses red, And two blue violets. He would not part With them for all the gold of earth, he said. And so he felt; but they were stolen away; Yet he believes her love will not decay. PASTORALS OF THE PBAIBIES. 89 IX. Do you remember, Jane, the little wren That built her nest so near your door last Spring ? Her pretty mate — you've listened to him sing — From morn till eve he'd sing; nor cease, but when The rain came down in torrents; and if then A moment 'twas to shake his dripping wing: Raising his beak toward Heaven his notes now ring Clearer than ever — thinks of love again! Thus stays he by his spouse through sun and shower, And sings to her in tender, loving strains. 90 PASTOBALS OF THE PBAIBTES. Gladdening her heart through every passing hour — Jane, I'll continue 'mongst the truest swains ; Just like that bird I'll sing by thy sweet bower; Forsake thee not, long as my life remains! September, 1860. ^\'^ wm POESY. A LYBIC. ADDKESSBD TO MY 1STEJ5MED FKIEND, EEV. J. A. NASH. PART FIRST. *^HY it is I strike the string; Why it is I touch the lyre; Why like Orpheus would sing; Why would wake Pronaethean fire, Let me tell in pleasing words, Mingled with a lovely sound. Like the singing of sweet birds That the huntsman dare not wound - Dare not kill the turtle dove. Dare not kill the little wren Singing in the leafy grove, Gladdening the homes of men. Are not sweet the words of praise That to virtue poets give? It is in immortal lays That the just may ever live — 94 POESY. Ever live upon the earth, Though their bodies be in dust — Thus will never perish worth ; Thus shall never die, the just. O that I a song could frame, Lasting as the granite stone! Then would never die his name; Ever would his fame be known, Who hr\s been my loving friend ; Who has been my friend in need ; Never till my days shall end Can I pay him half his meed. Could I live a thousand years. Blest with strength of mind and limb. All this time too short appears To obtain reward for him. Xash first lifted up my hands, First aroused my dormant mind ; Pointed where Fame's temple stands; He gave vision to the blind. POESY. 95 God-like man, the thanks receive Of a truly, grateful heart ; But I now sincerely grieve That I have not perfect art, Cannot build the pleasing rhyme That eternal praise might give; If your name must die in Time, In Eternity' 'twill live! Thus it is the voice of song Rises in the 'good man's praise; Thus it would his fame prolong That men may in future days Emulate his worthy deeds And arise to his repute; Thus the poet sows good seeds That may 'ripen into fruit. '.»G POESY. PART SECOND. Deign to listen while I tell How the poet's useful song Fearless battles conduct fell ; It opposes every wrong. Like Clorinda, warrior maid, Raging on the bloody field, Wielding her puissant blade — Causes every foe to yield. Those that yield not to her arms — Yield not to her sword or spear — She can conquer by her charms — Hear of fair Armida, hear: Ten bold knights she captive took ; ; Led them o'er a distant sea; Conquered them by her sweet look — 'Twas Rinaldo set them free. POESY. 97 But he yielded to her power! He was vanquished by her might — Charmed in her pleasant bower, How escaped the valliant knight? To th' enchanted island camej Guided by a wizzard old, Two brave champions of fame — They released the warrior bold. But she followed through the air — Met him on the battle-field; Bravely fought this princess fair — Naught then saved him but his shield. O the powerful darts she cast While in radiant arms she s'lone! Einald' honored her at last — Placed the princess on her throne. Ever honored be the bard; What is grief the poet learns; Tasso's lot in life was hard ; So was that of patriot Burns. 08 POESY. But how little does he care Where he rests his aching head. Or how humble be his fare — Only that he may have bread, Never covetous his mind ; Free from every base desire; He to benefit mankind Lives — what purpose can be liigher? Is it not the poet gives Highest praise to God above? Every creature, too, that lives Has the poet's heartfelt love. Now the falchion is bright — It had rusted 'gainst the wall — See, he hastens to the fight. Willing at his country's call. .Vrnied and doubly armed is he! Will the morning star grow dim ? Shudders dreadful Tyranny ! Hears the glorious Marseilles Hymn! POESY. 99 Fearful as ten thousand swords Flashing in the sun's bright rays, Are the poet's flaming words When gainst . Tyranny they blaze. 100 POESY. PART THIRD. Listen longer if you can ; I your kindness may requite — Does not poesy to man Give angelica] delight? This is not hyperbole — Listen still to what I tell — If you would your likeness see, Go and look into a well. There you may behold your face Pictured truthfully, each part — Its uncomliness and grace — But the likeness of the heart! Look in Shakspeare's silvery spring, By sweet Avon in the shade; There the human heart— each string, Each pulsation is displayed. POESY. 101 O the waters of that fount! Sweet as Juliet's blushing lips! On Olympus' lofty mount Jove less pleasant nectar sips! Enter into Paradise! Seek elysian groves of bliss! Drink sweet waters without price! Live with lovely Beatrice! The true poet has delights Quite unknown to other men — Talks with angels, fairies, sprites. In the shady grove and glen. Rock, and shell, and herb, and tree, He beholds with interest fraught; Swallow, grass-hopper, or bee Leads him into pleasant thought. Wise Anacreon, thy name Fades not in the mist of years! Thy sweet songs so worthy fame. How delightful to my ears ! 102 POESY. Were she banished from this sphere - The fair damsel Poesy — Never to on earth appear, This were not the world for me! Starry skies to love no more? Love no more the evening cloud? Or my native lake's sweet shore? I would seek the burial shroud! To forego for shining gold Milton, Shakspeare, Collins, Burns! These my anxious arms infold ; While my soul the lucre spurns ! I would consecrate my life To the service of mankind — Enter on a noble strife, Worthy of the loftiest mind. And my humble efforts may Lead some youth to take the lyre- One whose mind — the orb of day! One whose heart — & world of fire! POESY. 108 He will make mankind rejoice That he lived upon the Earth — Praise with universal voice The proud land that gave hira birth. Jime, 1860. FUGITIVE PIECES. THEN AND NOW. |i^£NCE I was a blacksmith; ^^^ I merrily did sing, While I blew the bellows, And made the anvil ring. While I held the iron Glowing in the tongs, And thought of pretty damsels - To love I tuned my songs. I thought of modest blushes Like the burning coal; Then had real happiness Possession of my soul! My mind was not distracted With the love of fame; I cared not for high honors; I wished not for a name. 108 THEX AND NO W. But now I am a student; O'er musty books I pore ; My watchword now is "Glory;" My peace of mind 's no more. Every star that twinkles Seems to say to me, "There is a brilliant future — An immortality! Slumber not, O student; Let each rising sun Find you farther onward In the race you run. Each sun will shine more brightly, As shorter grows the road, That leads up to the lofty seat Beside the Throne of God." October, 1859. HOPE AND DESPAIR. !^^|RE my bright days now at an end? ^?^Will Hope no longer me befriend? Shall I no longer in her trust; But bury up my mouth in dust! I, often, since I was a child, By her sweet voice have been beguiled — She pointed gently with her hand, "Boy, Learning's temple there doth stand, See, 'tis conspicuous on yon hill; Go climb and enter, if you will; To you her gates will wide unfold; Her treasures richer are than gold; And if you conquer grim Despair You will obtain a goodly share; The dreadful giant guards the way; Be clothed in steel; the monster slay! Let modest Virtue be thy guide; And look with scorn upon vain Pride — no HOPE AND DESPAIB. Faille's temple also stands in view, And you may enter therein, too; For you are human; and all others, The mightiest men, are but your brothers." Thus Hope from me an orphan boy, Stole sweet contentment — heavenly joy! I'\'e tried to climb the rugged way ! Despair I battle with to-day. 1858. WESTWARD HO! jiij^^'LL go; M'hy need I here remain? &s^ This land must not contain me long- I'll go; ray thoughts are bent on gain; I'll join the westward-moving throng. I'll go;, for what is empty fame? I hate thy chains, O poverty! I'll go; 'tis but at best a name — Let me from want and duns be free! I'll go; I've wakened from a dream; A bubble's changed to empty air; I'll go; renown's not worth, I deem, A drop of sweat, a moment's care. I'll go, and delve deep into earth; I'll seek the "dust" — the shiny ore — I'll go; I crave not countless worth — I ask a competence — no more. 112 WESTWARD IK). I'll go; in some sequestered spot, Neath California's pleasant skies, I'll build for me a modest cot. And claim Beatrice as my prize. There will I live, and love, and sing, And rear the fig-tree, and the vine, While on me smiles perennial Spring; While for me flows the ruddy wine. I'll sing how mountain streams do flow; How skip the goats on rocks above; How melt on high the hills of snow — Sing to Beatrice of true love. I'll go ; I hate the endless prate Of demagogues; their endless strife For place and power in the State; I'll go and lead a recluse life. I'll go; away from fashion, pride; Away from past-board pomp and show — I'll go gain happy home and bride — There's naught here worth a tear — I'll go! April, 18G0. SERENA. "Hark, they whisper; Angels say 'Sister spirit, come away!'" T^^^HUS the angel voices Speaking, S^^Sl Bade Serena come away; O'er the dark earth they were seeking Those to bask in endless day; And they found the lovely maiden Fairer than the flowers in bloom, Bore her s pirit to far Aidenn ; Left her body in the tomb. While our hearts o'erflow with sadness, That we see her face no more; And while e'en a ray of gladness Seldom reaches this dark shore, She is with the Mediator, In the mansion of delight. 114 SERENA. Neath the smiles of her Creatoi', Far away from gloom of night. Do we wish her back to languish, On a bed of grief and pain? Oh, to hear her moan in anguish. Do we ask her back again? No, oh no; we wait the greeting In the happy realm above; All the "pure in heart" a meeting God hath promiwcd in His love. August, 1857. TO CLARA. ^-3§AD I loved you, I'd have to!d you- ^^M Told you, Clara, long ere now; Would have sighed oft to heboid you ; Would have made an earnest vow. I have never sent you token; But like Phaeon fled away; Ever to you I have spoken Kindly; I'm your friend to-day. Nor can ever kindly feeling In my heart give place to wrath — And I now before you kneeling. Would strew flowers in your path. Once I said "I am your brother;" Spake with feeling heart and true — There can nothing ever smother This my high regard for you. 110 TO CLARA. But I cannot say "I love thee;" Cannot say "Thou art my dear:" If there is a God above me, He my earnest words will hear. Gentle sister, may no sorrow Ever sadden thy itind heart; But may each returning morrow Come with joy; with joy depart. June, 1860. PRIENDSHIP. 3^^ HAT a sacred tie is friendship! mm s&^ Tie that never should be brolcen ; Never, never, never brolien! And it never ean be brolsen. If it truly has united — Truly, truly, truly fastened Kindred hearts but once together. What a brilliant spark is friendship! Read of Pythius and Damon; — No disasters, no misfortunes; Not the power of man or demon, In their bosoms could extinguish The bright spark that God had kindled. Could they scorn at one another? They would die for one another ! June 20th, 1857. THE BIRD. WHEN I was a little boy I do remember, and it ever will Remain deeply impressed upon my mind, How I with a play-mate, in wanton sport, Stole from a nest some little, unfledged birds. The mother bird Had left them, as kind mothers sometimes leave Their little children when they go from home — Left the little ones at home. We came upon them While we were rambling through the joyous woods, In search of balls, that grow on little oaks. Spotted balls. That crack when pressed between your hands, Like mimic guns, Or silken lash upon a coachman's whip. My playmate said, "Hark, hark, I hear a chirp!" We looked and saw, and then we climbed .THE BIRD. 119 And snatched them from the nest. Their beaks they ope'd, As if they thought we'd come to give them food; They little knew What boys would do, whose minds had never yet Been taught to think how God has made The life of e'en a bird As dear to it as ours to us ; and how His care supports the sparrows as they fall; And how He smiles, when looking down upon the world, Sees all. All happy — birds and every living thing! The world He made to be a world of joy; All nature smiles; the little flowers look gay; And in the hearth the cricket happily chirps; The brook flows, murmuring ever joyously. While the silvery minnows listen its sweet irjur- mur^ With busy fins. They happ'ly plfty beneath its dancing waves — Which sparkle in the sunbeams. And the sun Sends forth its rays to beautify all nature; It gives the beauteous hues. The poet's fancy loves to dwell upon. 220 THE BIRD. All nature is but beauty; And every living creature seems to say, "I'm happy when left as God has made me." And so The little birds were happy in the nest, And soon. In the transparent air, had soared aloft. Beneath them would have stretched the smiling earth, Concave to them in form, and dotted o'er With prairies, And lakes, and lofty oaks, and mountain peaks, Cities and temples, built in ancient times. But we with ruthless hands bore them away. Away for sport! Joined by a noisy host Of other boys as wicked as ourselves, Our sport was of the gladiatoral kind. How pitiful the little birds did cry. When tossed by our rude hands high up in air ! They flutter, and fall hard upon the ground. Now hands are clapped; a joyful laugh is raised; A shout, "Who first can get the bird and toss it up!" Now, now we rush ; the bird is snatched and torn ; Another ru-h — "Tis dying; throw it down!" 'IHE JilliB. 121 I staid, I know not why. I said, "I'll see How much the little bird is hurt;" And took it up ; And oh, its little eyes it turned upon me; And the look it gave I never can forget! It seemed to say, "You wrong me little boy. The tears ran down My cheek, and fell upon its feathers; — "Forgive me, little bird, said I, forgive!" Quivering in my hand, it died. How stricken Was my heart! I sought my home; The little bird I carried with me; My gentle sister made for it a shroud; And in the garden, neath the apple tree, I dug its grave, and I, in wanton sport, Again, ne'er harmed a little bird. May, 1856. TO JENNIE. '■jr^T\?, hope it may not you displease, ^-^■■&2& Should you in future days, Happen to cast your eyes on these Lines written in your praise. By one who loves to have his own Name kindly spoken of; The trump of praise, when happ'ly blown, Is pleasing e'en to Jove. Like Jesus, then, is Jennie meek ; Like Him, she's ever kind; With truth and candor doth she speak; No guile is in her mind. No pride, therefore, no cold disdain. Yet conscious of her worth ; TO JENNIE. 123 There's naught can make true greatness vain — Her modest eyes meet earth. When falls the gentle summer shower, It purifies the air — Such is this pure-soul ed damsel's power — No "thought infirm" stays where Her presence is. A rain di;op pure, Her heavenly mind appears; I would no pain she might endure, And live a thousand years! A patriotic treasure thrills My heart; gladly I stand, And praise such virtue — that it dwells Within my native land. II. Shall I now all my mind confess? Laid open let it be! My heart beats high with happiness — Jennie, I love thee. If in return for love you'll give Love, and willingly; 124 TO J£NNIE. I pledge mine honor, while I live, Jane, to love but thee. III. Jennie, may I be thy knight; Go abroad for thee to fight, Battle in the tournament. Hither by jny lady sent; Battle bravely for renown, Battle to obtain a crown — Laurel wreath about my brow? Say yes, Jennie, say it now! I will stoutly fight for thee; But shall surely claim my fee — Surely claim for my reward, My sweet Jennie's kind regard. IV. My God has ever on me smiled, — Has blessed me since I was a child - I am not able to say why It is I'm favored from on high — I see He guides me every day; I see His love where'er I stray -- I wander over barren sand, TO JENNIE. 125 He takes me gently by the hand, And leads me to a happy land— And now I ask, will ne^r end The loving favors of this Friend? A heavenly angel He hath sent, And will shfe dwell within my tent? Yes, even this I may believe, Since so much kindness I receive. V. Are not sweet Jennie's heart and mine United not to sever — Can we each others love resign? O never, never, never! VI. My Jennie, 'twas to-day I read "Ye banks and braes and streams around" My heart with sorrow truly bled. And tears came gushing from the wound^ Should Jennie thus be torn away From me by Death's too cruel hand. It seems I could no longer stray A pilgrim in this desert land. 126 10 JENNIE. But I would lie down by her grave; Nor rise again from morn till night — From night till morn. To Him who gave Me life, my life would take its tiight. Take from the Polar bear his coat; Unman a ship upon the main ; Or all the oars take from a boat, As soon as take from me my Jane. The bear must on an iceberg freeze; He cannot brave old Boreas' blast; The ship will founder in the seas ; On Sylla'.s rocks the boat is cast. :8G0. TO JENNIE. -iijj^aHAT care we for the world Nannie- i^P The smiles or frowns of man? A world within ourselves are we — Thou art its glory, Nan. Adam lived with Eve, Nannie, One woman lone and man Upon the earth; and happily They lived, and we sWll, Nan; Shall live as happily, Nannie, Though far from walks of man; For will hot Nannie still love me, And I still love my Nan? TO A CHILD. |,ITTLE Mary, come to rae; ^Come and sit upon my knee- Hiippy cherub from above, Kiss me with thy lips of love! Bless the guileless soul that lies Wakeful in thy brilliant eyes! Scornful m:udens love not true; But ye little children do — Ever till my life shall end, I will be the children's friend. December, 1859. DELIA. ^^0-DAY I met the girl I fondly love, ^^Stl met her coming from the leafy grove; And in her lovely hand a cup she bore — Plain was the dress that my dear Delia wore; And plain need be the dress by damsels worn. Midst brier bushes to be soiled and torn — When they go gaily blackberries to cull, And fill tin-cups, and coffee-pots brim full — My Delia, did I say ? Alas ! to me She is as cruel as a maid can be! But let me not in censure be severe. Lest soon I drop a warm, repentant tear; I love her well; but she heeds not my flame; 'Tis not on her, but Gupid, is the blame; Why did he hurl at me his vengeful dart And not direct the same toward her heart? He wounded me, and left the wound to smart. It long has bled ; I've often wished a cure-; 130 DELIA. I look on her ; it bleeds yet more and more ! Alas, blind Love, if reason were thy guide Thou wouldst not thus bow down to cruel pride! When she has said "I love him not," thou'dst turn And seek a maid whose heart would for thee yearn ; Thou'dst quickly leave the proud coquette behind And seek a maid with heart more true and kind- She in love's path did first allure me on, And then turned round and whispered, " Pray begone! " All her love tokens, were they given, that she Might now thus turn and treat me scornfully? Such is the trick of maids who do not know True love — cold maids — I'll let them go; Nor from mine eye shall sorrowing tear-drop ilow; Thus Reason wisely speaks, but Love says, "No." Again I view the cruel damsel's charms. And fain would clasp her fondly in my arms. August, 1859. LOVE. |OVE, why will you haunt me? b Nothing else can daunt me; Brave am I — a hero! Love, it is a Nero — Like a slave it "sells" me; Like a coward quells me — Yonder's my Armida; If she frown I'll die— Ah! I tremble to go near her; Pshaw! "Why need I fear her? She is only human; She is but a woman; Yet I fall before her Like a god, adore her! 1859. DELIA. »^ SOMETIMES think myself quite wise, &si2Eecause I've seen a college; Alas! the fair Aminta's eyes Have shown my want of knowledge! 'Tis said that ne'er is made a slave, The man of mind enlightened; For doubting this I pardon crave; As I'm in chains well tightened! I don't know what to think of it; I don't know how to manage; I sometimes take an angry fit, And think of doing damage; Resolve I'll bravely go and quell The cruel little tyrant ; But ere I reach her door, ah, well ! My anger's sure to be spent! DELIA. 133 And once I plotted full a week, As if to storm a city ; Ah me! could I but kiss her cheek — To harm her were a pity ! Whene'er she throws toward me a hook How soon she feels me biting; She casts at me a scornful look And I go quickly "kiting!" I don't know what to think of her; Yet I'm in hopes she likes me ; But would she treat me like a cur? A fearful doubting strikes me! 1859. \U^q- TO DELIA. gjjV|iAY Delia, I am at a loss to know ^^ Why 'tis you shun so coy my longing arms; Perhaps no other youth will love you so; Will be so captivated by your charms. 'You've gained, my heart, I frankly own to you; Do you love me? Ah, here I'm in the dark! My soul is tortured; I must tell you true; I've put to sea in such a doubtful "bark. Ah, love, true love, I've oftimes wished of yore. To feel thy happy heat within my heart! But love has pangs: and Sappho felt them sore; She leaped from Lucate to escape their smart. The pangs of doubtful love — despairing hope! O Delia, why continue to torment, TO DELIA. 135 So fond a lover — causing him to droop, Uttering your name, until his life is spent! Lamenting that you're not to him more kind; Sometimes an angry flush o'erspreads his cheek; He deems you love him not; and have designed To act thus cruelly, till his heart break. Again he hopes your love is more sincere, "That would be wooed and not unsought be won;" Then from his eye there falls a tender tear — 'Tis hidden love— break forth thou brilliant sun! Why must dark mists obscure the heavenly light! O could I banish now the fearful cloud. And cause that sun to burst upon my sight — With joyful transports I would weep aloud! So glad I'd be to know you love me true, Erewhile a spark of anger might arise, To think I'd felt so many pangs for you. So many tears of sorrow lave my eyes, That had you be,e;i more kind I'd never felt; ]36 TO DELIA. Had you not fled from me with look so cold- Me, who before you would have fondly knelt, And worshipped my Diana of pure gold. 1859. ^^. TO DELIA. IjOVE'S rough sea, I've waded through; Now capricious maid, adieu ! I, like Moses, now rejoice ; Raise in grateful song mj' voice! Of deliverance I sing, Making loud the welkin ring ! Egypt now I hold in scorn; Never more will buy her corn ; Never, never shall again Set a foot on her domain! For the little corn she gave, I was held in chains a slave; I was set at making brick! I was lashed till I was sick; I these wrongs in Egypt bore — Never shall I go there more! Bather than go buy her corn Starve I will in cave forlorn ! 138 TO DELIA. Glad I am I've passed the sea I rejoice that I am free! "Welcome desert wilderness! Welcome hunger, thirst, distress! I can bear to meet the worst; Waters sweet shall quench my thirst. Gushing from the flinty rock. At the rod's commanding stroke — Shall eat manna from above Sent by one requites my love: Now I on a ram's-horn blow — See, I conquer Jericho! See, the walls fall to the ground At the formidable sound ! While the battle rages high, See the sun stop in the sky ! Soon possess I Palestine, Lovely land of corn and wine. When the conflicts all are past Happy shall I be at last! Now I stormy Jordan stem ; Now re-build Jerusalem; Now I fell a cedar grove — Build a temple to my love. TO DELIA. 139 Fairer than the one of old, Glistening with purer gold; Where I raise a holy shrine, Worship there my spouse divine - To her sweeter songs I sing Than sang Solomon the King. So, perfidious niaid, adieu! I can scorn as well as you. 1859. TO 5t^| like to muse on our romantic love — *s«J2 Ho^^ pleasing that it has flowed on so smooth- ly! ' True we are human, and our human passion Must bear humanity's frail mark upon it — But (what is most befitting those of earth) After the heavenly we will pattern take — Our nobler natures must approve our love, And God will smile upon us from on high — Though love be passion — reason will direct it; Passion is blind — let reason be its guide — The age of Poesy is past, 'tis said, And stern philosophy now reigns supreme. Our love is poet and philosopher. I know I love with an affection pure, As Dante's for his heavenly Beatrice, Or Petrarch's, for the Laura of his soul — And Burns ne'er loved with truer heart his Mary. 20 ■ 141 Thou art so good, I am convinced, beloved, There's not a nobler woman in the world — "With greater passion and a purer spirit; The passionless are not the good and lovely; But such as govern with a mightier soul The strongest feeling. In the wilderness Such as are tempted forty days by Satan. Though Sappho is admired for her love, Her fame is not unspotted. If she had But walked with Virtue side by side, I then Might call you my sweet Sappho. I'll not build Comparison that casts a shadow on thee. There can be nothing said against. you, darling; This I believe as certainly as though I had been always with you, to observe Your every action. Thou hast Sappho's love And Dian's loveliness. The sun and moon! I have selected for thee a sweet name Prom Homer, as I told you — ^"Theano, The heavenly minded." O that I could claim Perfection that belongs to thee alone! Blest with thy love, I truly shall endeavor To walk more worthy, of thy tender passion. I did not know, my darling, that you loved me 142 TO Until I had poured out my soul upon you; For two long ^years you had been thinking of me ; "Will love, me on, if all the world beside you, Do turn against me — ever will stand by me — () God of love, look down upon and bless us ! 18G0. TO ^O W two long years have glided slowly by ?^5S^My true love says, since first I met her eye— I then a stranger met her heavenly gaze, Truly my God has cared for me always! I went from her, nor did she know we'd e'er More meet upon this sublunary sphere; But still, (she says), she held me in her mind. Nor from her soul a passage could I find. "Why thus, ah, silly me! why thus repine. For one who never, never may be mine! He did not note me on that fatal day; From him all thought of me has fled away; He hardly deems I live upon the earth; Careless is he that ever I had birth — And should he read my "death," perhaps he'd sigh That thus a mind should prematurely die — 144 TO But would he think that I, an unknown dame, Had felt for him an unremitting flame? Had for him sighed and oftentimes had prayed That his kind hand might in mine own be laid — My soul has followed him where e'er he straj'ed." Fortune has brought me to her faithful arms; She is my love; I dote upon her charms; She is my love; 'tis her that I adore; She is my love; and shall be evermore — For her I'll labor while the sun is bright; I'll toil from morning until dewy night. 1860. p.''IBSS'i9 DRESS. ;n^gHOEVER o'er the prairie strays, jWhile smile the spring and summer days, And sees how God has given it dress — Clothed it in robes of loveliness, He must acknowledge that it shows, Tis no great crime to wear "nice" clothes. The lilly blushing to the breeze — Are kings arrayed like one of these? Thus nature dresses all things fair: Behold what beauty everywhere! The human form has grace divine; There's beauty in the towering pine; The lovely lake with beauty smiles; There's beauty in the lonely isles; The stars with beauty shine by night; The sun is with his beauty bright; 'Tis Beauty paints the evening skies; Theie's beauty in a damsel's eyes; 10 146 DBE8S. Bdiold the waves of ocean roll Terrific to the human soul ! Yet there is beauty in those waves; There's beauty in earth's deepest caves; And in the forked lightning's play, And in the evening twilight gray ; And in the rugged mountains old ; And in the glistening iceberg cold — Yes, Nature dresses all things fair ; — Bright beauty's blooming everywhere! 18G0. ^rfe "i^ THE PARTING. ^^fHE war is over now, my boys; 'a-lM Our country is restored — Unbuckle now your harness, boys; Lay by the gun and sword. Oh, how we love the flag, my boys! It was the winding sheet. Of many of our comrades, boys. Whose hearts have ceased to beat. We are a band of brothers, boys; Our loye's increased with years — Though we're unused to weep, my boys. We part with many tears! We've planted high our banner, boys; On high it must remain — If foreign boys. assail it, boys; We'll shoulder arms again. [August, 1865. THE ORPHAN'S SONG. V?5jSf APA listed in the army, ^JJk^ And left mamma, Jane and I, Weeping in our lonely cottage — Little baby said "by, by" — By, by, papa, gone forever ! Now he lies beneath the sod; He was murdered by a traitor ; But his spirit is with God. Loving friends have given money And endowed a pleasant home — Home and school for orphan children — See the children hither come! Come and join in happy chorus, Praise the land we love so well — May our banner float forever O'er the field where papa fell! [June, isi;."; THE SOLDIER. '"c^^AEEWELL, mother; farewell sister; f^^M Little brother dear, good-by; I must go and meet the traitor Who the flag hath torn from high." And he rushed into the battle, Smote the rebel "hip and thigh" And the flag again uplifted; Now it flutters in the sky And the traitor begs for mercy — Ihe accursed wretch must die! Lo! the brave young Union soldier To his home is nJrawing nigh, And his mother runs to meet him With glad heart and tearful eye; Brothers, sisters, sweet-heart greet him — Roses in his pathway lie — Give bright honor to the hero — "Honor him," the people cry! \June, 18C5. THE FLAG. COLUMBIA'S flag — hope of the world! Its folds shall ne'er be torn; Triumphant through this bloody war I see it onward borne ! The willing arm that lifts on high The ensign of the free — That spreads the starry banner forth On land and on the sea, The youthful arm — the patriot arm, It palsied must not be! Strike down the craven wretch who cries, " Our ensign let it fall ; And on the sea no more be seen And on the fortress wall ! " THE FLAG. 151 Think not you base-born coward, e'er The brave will ask to ^tay The gushing tide of blood and death Before the foe gives way, Before upon old Sumter's walls Our banner 'is unfurled ; Before the Union is confessed As one by all, the world. Then howl no more, ye craven crew For dastard compromise. Lest earth soon cover you from view, And death bedim your eyes! JDeoember, 1862. AN INVITATION. ye who live on barren lands ^4 That yearly mock your toil, No longer blister there your hands — Come till the Western soil. No stones are here to dull your plows; No stumps stand in the way ; No swamps are here to mire your cows; Here God has planted hay. The water 's pure; the soil is deep, And corn grows very tall; This is the land for raising sheep — Our pastures are not small. The Doctors here "go out to grass," And sickness is unknown; When you behold an Iowa lass, You see a rose full blown! [Auguat, I8G0. TO MY BOY. ^Wt^f)^ darling boy, ere yet thou canst repeat ^^Thy father's name; and when thy little feet Can just bear up thy frame; and thou dost sit Upon her knee who bore thee, and "dost fold Thine arms about her neck, and fondly kiss The cheek suffused with tears— thy mother's cheek, What is it, child, that saddens so her heart? These tears are shed for thee. She asks of Him, The mighty Father, in His love, a boon, — But first, she thanks Him for the joy He gave In granting her this blessed little babe, Her light, her hope, her happiness of soul! My son, thy mother's heart dost ask that thou May'st "grow in favor both with God and man" — Not always wilt thou be as thou art now. Protected by a mother's watchful care; But soon thou must arise to man's estate And meet the stern realities of life. IH TO MY BOY. Thy mother asks that God may take thy hand And lead thee safely in life's rugged path, Lest Satan tempt thee from the happy way, And in the wilderness leave thee to starve. How dreary is the wilderness of sin! Behold the drunkard wandering without hope! Behold him fall into the deep abyss! He sinks beneath the waves of dark Despair! Blessed is he who ruleth his own soul! His passions lead him not where'er they will ; This man is free; he feareth only God; Before His Throne of Grace, he oft doth bow, And stretcheth forth his hands in humble prayer. flow great a joy the Christian heart doth feel, In prayerful meditation before God; The upper window of the soul thrown ope, A flood of light flows in and gladdens all. It is thy parents' hope, my son, that thou Wilt lead a Christian life^wilt oftlmes pray To Him who far above the clouds doth sit, Upon His throne of might — a king, indeed; But still a Father kind, whose gentle love Doth bless each living thing. "A sparrow falls Not to the ground without His care." My child TOMTJBOT. 155 Love God because He first loved thee; and let Thy highest pleasure be, to contemplate His wondtous works — to study deep His laws Adoring Him the while. The Bible take In thy right hand and press it to thy heart, The richest gift of God to man. Wisdom My boy, of Hume, nor Gibbon, nor Voltaire Could shake the "Sacred Truth." It still survives. The Book of Books, the Holy Book of God. These are no hollow sounding words, my child; And he, who tries to walk without this Light, Will grope his way in darkness evermore. The heart of man, without a steadfast hope. Without reliance on the Word of God, With doubts arising ever in the mind. Is desolate beyond what tongue can tell. December, 18G4. "COMMON MEN." "j^gSiE live, indeed, in an historic age; ^^^Bright names illuminate the shining page; The name of Grant, four years ago, who knew? Old Time can ne'er efface that name from view And Lincoln — in how short a time has fame Recorded high his , ever-glorious name! Yes, in remotest climes is Lincoln known ; His praise to-day is heard in every zone. And he deserves the fame the world bestows; To him our country her salvation owes. Lincoln and Grant — in these few words I tell Their whole career — they did their duties well. Does not the faithful soldier in the "ranks" As well deserve a grateful people's thanks? Had Abraham Lincoln died unknown and poor, "Within his father's humble cabin door. From wounds received in battling savage men; COMMON MEN. 15 He would have died at post of duty then, And in the sight of God appeared as great, As when he died the saviour of the State. How many noble men are lost to fame! How many heroes die without a name! Had Charles but kept the people's good in view Then Cromwell 'd have continued ale to brew; And had the South concluded to obey. Grant would, no doubt, be bartering hides to-day. So, every day, in busy wallts we meet. In mart, in work-shop, on the crowded street. Men, who in life an humble part perform; But who, if called to battle with the storm. Would meet it boldly, as did old King Lear — Their arms are strong; their hearts unknown to fear; They know their worth; their modesty's as great; They are the nation's strength — tJiey are the State! A nation's fame is theirs; their voice, their nod The great world heeds — the flat of a god! May, 1865. SONNET. [WAY with caste! The humblest man when "JSuS. free, Holds prouder rank in life than lord or king! In all that marks the man, (so poets sing) The poor surpass the rich. How fervently The laborer loves the children on his knee! His honest heart — an overflowing spring! He'd freely give his life an offering To save his country's flag and liberty. He read of Marion, when he was a boy; He heard how heroes fought at Bunker Hill — His home, his wife, his children are his joy; Hope swells his heart. Perhaps his offspring will "Win wreaths of fame. He says "I toil for bread; My sons may strike for honor when I'm dead. " TO MY WIFE. lljSgKAY, darling, do you deem that now I love S^; thee, As when we wandered in the bright ideal, Ere we were joined in bands Hymeneal? Far brighter, dearest, shines my star above thee! Oft thou in tender ' kindness dost reprove me, For being so enwrapped in the unreal — And sorrowest, too; because thou canst not see all The hidden motives that so strangely move me. I sit alone with pen in hand and write. Seeming indifferent toward my loving wife, And little children, darlings of my life! So lost upon Parnassus' rugged hight. Oh think not, ' dettrest, that my love's declining; It is the sun,' far up in heaven, shining. TO MY BROTHER. •f^'^ILEN War's dread clarion rang in "'61," S!S*;G'And Crocker called our brave young men to arms, You rushed, dear brother, into war's alarms, And bore most soldierly thy trusty gun ! Brave Weeks, and Doty fell at Donelson ; Loved comrades sleep on Shiloh's bloody plain ; At Corinth many fell midst leaden rain; — Ah, see dark clouds arise; fierce work is done. Where bold McPherson renders up his life! And thou wert, brother, near him in the strife; Beheld the flames devour Atlanta's pride; And, at Savannah, saw the boundless sea; Stood by the flag until Rebellion died — Art coming home — with joy we welcome thee! Jidiy, 1865. N. W. MILLS. ;Mi^^HAT nobler man has fallen in the war ! wdSs^Of talents rare; to poesy inclined; Young, . brave, religious, polished, ever kind ; A pioneer in Art — was known afar — The West can illy spare his risitig star — A patriot true ^ he perished in his prime; His name will live with Warren's through all tim,e — jSTor will a blot his page in hist'ry mar.^ Ah, death must come! If on the field of fame When battling for our native land, we die, We leave behind an ever-glorious name. That will be blest while ages shall pass by. Now peaceful is the land for which he fought;. But with his blood our Peace was dearly bought. M. M. CROCKER. Siag^OW bright a record this brave man has ?^^&i made ! The hero stood midst shot and bursting shell Unharmed. Where "Death reigned king" and thousands fell, On high he wielded his victorious blade. But now aside he has the saber laid, And gone, in everlasting peace to dwell. Had he not lived and fought, ah! who can tell If e'en to-day would War's red tide be stayed! His prowess won the field at Champion Hill And ope'd the way for Vicksburg to be ta'en; And it was his indomitable will That saved the day, when Lauman's braves were slain — But now our country's saved, and peace is won ; Brave Crocker has gone home ; his work is done. August 29, 1865. SONNET. ON SEEING GENEBAL SHERMAN IN BES MOINES, OCTOBEK 7TH 1805. 1^^ love my country, and the chief who led fe*^ Our brothers — gallant men — to victory — He is the, embodiment of energy; Unfading wreaths of laurel crown his head — And he deserves bright bays, whose deeds have shed Such lustre on our land of liberty — Have given her the proudest history: During all time 'twill be with wonder read — The daring march through Georgia to the coast, And on o'er proud Carolina's dismal wold; Magnanimous toward the conquered host— He is beloved for manly heart and bold; And though "detractions rude" assail his name, They cannot dim his star of well-earned fame. RELIGION. ^^^/HE "Father of his Country," near his grave, ^^i Cast lools of love upon his blood-bought land And this wise counsel to the people gave: "Cherish Religion long," said he, "and save The ship of State, lest on the rock it strand Of Infidelity and sink beneath the wave. A Commonwealth, and Freedom, cannot stand If Public Virtue by fell Vice be slain — Religion doth guard Virtue with her sword ; Vice will smite Virtue on the battle-plain, Unless Religion wielding high the Word Advance in glory and her cause maintain. Ah, then, my people, may ye ne'er be heard T' revile Religion in her heaven-built fane. " WHO SHALL BE BLEST? ^'^HO shall be blest, and to bright honor rise? Such men as labor in the early morning ; Late in the evening from their task returning; With perseverance press on to the prize. Not in multitude of labors honor lies; But in one purpose followed with heart-yearning — Behold she lingers in the walks of learning ! Ah, seek her reverently with heaven-bent eyes ! She comes to those of mightiest self-reliance; Who have a purpose high, and do not change, Who meet Despondency with brave defiance; Whose hopes run out upon the furthest range; — She's won by those who scale the rampart's hight. And plant the flag triumphant in the fight. SONNET. ji|OW few there are of all that bear the name f^^M Of man, do Nature's beauteous works admire! Some only wish for clothes, and food, and fire; "Within their hearts there never glowed a flame; They see the ground, but never look up higher; And only see the clods, and stones, and mire; 'Mong such do poets hope eternal fame? Songs sung to these are "pearls cast forth to swine" — And there are those who would be counted great, Howl at the bar, and often "seek a sign"; Perhaps they hold high office in the State— 'Tis gold they love and women, games and wine — To them the Muse would not entrust her fate; But to a virtuous few her hopes consign. 1860. FLOWERS. SE.EAT Linnaeus, did oft, we know. On long and tiresome journeys go, To see the plants that far might grow 5 And once, 'tis said, he traveling found Such pretty flowers, he kissed the ground— Yes, he bowed down and kissed the earth, Because it gave such beauty birth. 1860. SATIRICAL POEMS. FASHION. I. ^t 'LIj wander in this song, an errant rover, Until I fully have expressed my mind; I'll wallow in it like a dog in clover; I'll ride Pegasus 'till he's out of wind ; I'll ride him on, unless he throws me over His head and leaves me in a slough behind — Ah well, what will 't amount to in the end? -Twill show that to " tom-foolery" I'm no friend. II. "Ye gods!" how can I contain my spleen when I look abroad over this poverty Stricken land — see Columbia's mighty men Oppressed with debts, and obliged to flee Their country, on account of the very ten- der regard the ladies cherish for the Silks, calicos, lace, — trumpery that comes From everywhere, except their household looms. 172 FA8H10Is\ III. Some women there are who seem to think naught Desirable in this world, except fine Dress. I deem that such women should be taught A truthful lesson. I can take a swine — A dead hog (now mark carefully the thought) Clothe it up in silks, and let bracelets shine About its wrists; then stand it in the street — • 'Tis of real worth ; the beast will sell for meat. IV. I hope, fair reader, you are not offended, At my earnest manner of remark ; Certainly no insult is intended ; But "there's something rotten in Denmark;" And the patriot bard should be commended; Because he will not keep it in the dark. Wherever vice is found harsh is his song; 'Tis then he drops the harp, and strikes a gong. LADY. V. "Mercy on me! I cannot see why Soc- rates should speak so harshly against 'vain FASHION. 173 Ornaments of the body'! Ought it shock Any one, to see men struggling to gain Wealtli for display, even though their stock Of knowledge and virtue be not much pain To them, it being very limited? Socrates must have had quite a soft head!" POET. VI. "Pythagoras, a wise philosopher, Of Crotona, an Italian city. Prevailed on the women to renounce their Pine clothes and rich ornaments" — LADY. "A pity"! POET. " Because he thought them the food of luxur- y and vice. He believed frugality To be the mother of all virtues" LADY. "I Cannot believe in such nonsense, O fie!" VII. "He lived in olden times when people did 174 FASHION. Not know as much as they do now-a-days ; Pythagoras, Socrates — pooh! amid — pshaw! why talk about their fogy ways? Their sayings go at ratlier a low bid; I'd like to learn what claim they have to praise- But of this some other time; for now ray care is To hear what changes do occur at Paris"— VIII. Thus speaks a lovely lady, and "Ah me! 1 wore a bonnet to church which was a Half an inch too long! 'Twas last Sunday; I was behind the fashion just a day And three hours, and a second. You see I look pale. It is so distressing! I pray You may ne'er be afflicted with like sorrow; I fear that I shall be a corpse to-morrow ! " IX. If my Pegasus now begins to flag. Perhaps the creature needs a little fodder; He's certainly a very awkward nag — There never was a pony any odder — Is young; has never traveled much, to brag; FASHION. 175 His pinions, too, are only yet, a rod or So long. Yet I'm in good hopes tliat soon. He'll mount aloft and soar beyond the moon. X. But first, I'll ride the creature somewhat down- ward. Like iEneis, perhaps we'll enter hell ; If not I'll urge upon him to go town ward Which will my purpose answer just as well; But, then, I guess I'd rather ride him mound-ward ; Stir up the bones which in deep darkness dwell; Stir up the bones; look on the skeletons Of those who once were counted "pretty ones" XI. What of the dead? what of the mothers sleeping Low in the cold and solitary ground? They are not there. But are they shadows weep- ing Among the many that the poet found — (He whom Virgil guided) where those lowly creep- ing Bent down with burdens that their follies bound — 176 FASHION. Bewailed that they had not sought higher pleas- ures, Than flow from pride and seeking earthly treas- ures? XII. What of the dead? I ask again, what of them? Tiiey lived, were iiuman beings full of weakness; And yet no creature could be much above them ; (For Shakspeare tells the truth, if right I guess) "How in action like an Angel!" (Love them!) "In apprehension like a god!" (goodness!) Man is great! (and he is little, too) — 3Iore wonderful than are the worlds we view! XIII. That he is great, behold an Isaac Xcwton ; The universe he held within his hand ; For him a little play-thing was the sun ; He weighed the planets as if grains of sand ; He learned from God as I might learn from one Who is above me, but will near me stand — Who is above me; but alike in kind; So he with God perhaps had kindred mind. FASHION. 177 XIV. He read the universe as 'twere a poem ; The written nnusic of the spheres, he read; He read God's Illiad far beyond the proem; He felt — appreciated what it said — The mighty minds, a mighty mind can know them; Who but a patriot knows why Warren bled? Newton long since has entered Heaven's ' portal — Looks on God's face, and is like Him, immortal. XV. Woman seems to be superior to God; To know better than He what is truly Beautiful. He, it is said, of a clod Made the human body — and 'tis thought He Didn't fashion it correctly— not within a rod! It wants a great deal of practice in clay To make even a milk-crock that will pass; To say that God's work is perfect, is "gas" — XVI. Why, He hadn't worked at the trade quite a week, When He made man— awful piece of workman- ship; ah! surely, a "warped brick"— so, to speak — In woman He improved on His first plan — 13 178 FASHION. Used a finer pattern for Eve, the meek — For man He had no other pattern than His own image — real old — out of fashion — Eve was a work of imagination! XVII. Therefore she was beautiful; yet imperfect, As has since been discovered by the su- perior wisdom of the ladies. A retrospect Of the past will convince you this is true. Ladies of this generation neglect To improve upon God's image improv- ed. How lamentable! But when Europe Demands it, they will begin again, I hope. XVIII. The only evil which can flow from The compression of the chest, is, it must Lead in a far-off future age to some Errors in Pleeontology. The crust Of old Earth will confound the wisdom Of the most sagacious geologist. When in a stratum of its rock is shown — Type "Humanum Thorax Inverted Cone." FASHION. 179 XIX. How damnable is fashion when it will Lead immortal beings sacriligiously To mar the image of God! It doth kill In the mind the love of real beauty — Create a monomania: Until My dying day, Fashion, I'll battle thee! Patriotism, Philanthropy demand That foreign fashions cease to curse our land! XX. "Her dress is American. I admire The republican simplicity dis- played in it. Deniocracy gives a higher Direction to all the mind's faculties — Points the soul upward — a pillar of fire Leading on to the promised land. It is Independent, original — apes none— Motto 'America American.'" XXI. The women are calling aloud for the "Bight of SufiErage. " They are preparing for Governing the State. Far over the sea Their affections, " What, says the Emperor, 180 FASHION. His wife?" "Does tlie candidate, — does he Wear a Brummel neck-tie? Or Has his mustache the fashionable curl? Do thumb and finger give it the right twirl?" XXII. But our ladies, give tcf them due credit; American women stand first in the world; The giant Vice, they threaten to behead it; Their banners Amazonian, are unfurled — The "mightier than the sword" they wield; 'tis said it Pierces through joints and marrow, when 'tis hurled — 'Gainst Slavery envemoned bolts they throw — Behold a heroine — Harriet Beefher Stowe! XXIII. It may be wrong to hold a man in slavery — To bind the clanking fetter on his heel; May be abstractly vilest kind of knavery; The trembling slave may very badly feel — But pause, ye fair ones, ere you show your brav- ery- Consider ere you sharpen up your steel — FASHION. 181 Consider, and 'twill end your bitter passion — Think, ladies, Slomery in the South'' s the Fashion! XXIV. Fashion in the South will flog a Negro; Fashion in the North will kill a woman; Both may be wrong, but which one is the "bigger" I cannot say; they're either quite inhuman — At evil, North or South, will pull a trigger More quickly thfl-n' I, perhaps but few men; But I will not a Northern sinner brag of. Turn round and shoot a Southern sinner's leg off. XXV. And Fashion everywhere should be protected! "De gustibus non disputandem est"— It is a thing that ought not be dissected; There wouldn't seem much sense in it at best. To one whose head is not with it affected — We ought not pity, then, the slave distressed — How beautiful the Chinese lady's feet! The flat head of an Indian, how neat! XXVI. AVhat means, I ask, a Bloomer-dress convention? 182 FASHION. An effort to shake off a foreign yoke; And certainly a laudable intention ; With foreign yokes our necks are well-nigh broke. ]My sympathy in that I need not mention — However I am not prepared to croak, In favor of the costume that's selected Until I have its modesty detected. XXVII. The reason females appear in the Street So often, and so remarkably dressed, Is, they do not wish those with whom they meet To look at them, they're so very modest. Those clownish shop-keepers ought to be beat- en; they were surely brought up in the West — For they gap at the ladies without ceasing Which to their modesty's not at all pleasing! XXYIII. The crowning virtue of a city belle Which gives to her, her whole pre-eminence Is not (what it is not let me first tell) Is not a head filled with superior sense — Is not devotion to the image that fell Down from Jupiter — but impudence — FASHION. 183 Impudence and Fashion walk haud-in-hand — Sin and Satan let loose in the land. XXIX. So I admire the patriotic notion Held by all ladies of superior mind, That foreign fashions ought not cross the ocean, Nor in this country any footing find — My prayer is, they may set "the ball in motion - May roll it faster than the fleeting wind, Until Columbia is become as free . And independehl; £is she ought to be. XXX. And I admire those women, too, for daring To disregard the fooleries of the day; To go to church and worship without caring What of their dress Miss Shallow-pate may say — Perhaps their bonnets may appear too flaring — The fashion may be three months passed away— A plain and well-becoming dress they wear ; What fools may say they do not greatly care. XXXI. In nature there is ever loveliness. 184 FASHION. Something pleasing always strikes tlie eye; The useful bee appears in simple dress; Not so the brilliant, broad-winged butterfly; The hen has clothing beautiful far less, Than has the gaudy peacock strutting high ; And of mankind the same's the trutli to-day: Those of least use care most about display. XXXII. Behold our Franklin, true Republican ! Look on him while he was embassador At Louis' court. The wealth of Hindustan His home-spun he would not have left off for; Because he was a patriotic man — Did all the pomp of royalty abhor — • Wise man and great! Baboons and Apes the kind That mimick — never does the man of mind. XXXIII. If I should e'er become a maniac, I hope it may be on account of love; But ne'er a maid my brain I hope may crack. Unless it be Columbia, bright dove! I'd give her lips most willingly a smack; A fairer creature dwells there not above— FASHION. 185 'Tis loving her too much, if now I'm ailing— I'm truly thankful if it is my failing. XXXIV. How patriotic would the movement be To form ourselves into a mighty band, A glorious '■'■ Franldin Sooieti/," And drive the blight of Europe from our land; Stand up in all our youthful strength — be free! Kneel at the motion of no foreign wand — Let our ambition blaze like fiery Mars; I'd have the world enlightened by our stars! XXXV. Our ever-glorious stars! already they Send forth a heavenly light upon the world; They shine so brightly they are seen by day; Where is it that our banner when unfurled Does not meet great respect? Here dwells a fay — A little fairy;— (hair perhaps uncurled) She visits sleeping men across the sea^ Gives hopeful dreams; her name is Liberty. XXXVI. And we are free, we say; in '"76" 186 FASHION. Our fathers fought and gained our liberty ; But all this freedom, I deem, goes for "wc/ife," If unto princes still we bow the knee; If still to aliens we're cemented bricks — Glued on, to France, or England, we're not free ! Xow every breeze that blows from cross the ocean Causes a tip-up here, causes commotion. XXXVII. In '"76" 'tis said, our fathers armed Themselves against oppressive foreign king — Oppressive? Yes, freemen felt greatly harmed At taxes placed on every little thing — On teas and so forth, and like bees they swarmed (A worn-out figure) and did sharply sting The oppressor. They drove him from the hive — O Liberty, do heroes yet survive! XXXVIII. Of Fashion's great expense I'll make slight men- tion; Let people spend their money as they please; The sanguinary, seven-long-years contention. Our fathers had with George across the seas, Rose from exactions of a less dimension — FASHION. 187 (And I have named the taxes upon the teas) Than what is levied by the tyrant Fashion — By our wise rage to mimick the French nation. XXXIX. Paris truly is a moral city; So is lago, too, an honest man ; Would we not worship "Paris" 'twere a pity — Be our fair ladies all Parisian! Modest, thoughtful, chaste, religious, witty As well as handsome. Mortal beings can Array themselves in such a heavenly guise You'd deem they were descended from the skies! XL. 'Tis surely true; Olympus is deserted By her she gods, and they are all come down- Diana, Venus, Vesta — all hooped-skirted Walk gracefull;^' the streets of western town — Europa, too; it can't be controverted;' For they are s^een by city gent, and clown ^ Juno, Electra, Rhodea are seen Oft promenading o'er the prairies green. 188 FASHION. XLI. That they will notice cannot be expected The poor, despised beings of this world — Widows, orphans hungry — almost naked — Down to perdition let the poor be hurled! In blood they're not with goddesses connected; The same kind heavens o'er them are not unfurled — Of one blood, 'tis true, all nations of the Earth Were made; but goddesses had higher birth. XLII. It seems, 'I've read of some one called Jesus Christ; and it is held that He, too, w^as a Di\'ine being. Is't not proved that He was Of quite a vulgar class? I've heard say That His birth place was a manger! So it does Not seem strange that one whose first bed wa s hay, And Avho always went very plainly Clad, should be lield by an Olympic fe- XLIII. male, in small esteem, for a dissimi- larity of tastes, is apt to be a hinder- FASHION. 189 ance, to true love. The Son of the Great I AM, seemed to live more that he might confer Blessings upon Others than to aggrandi- ze himself. It is said He had not place where- on to lay his head. He was very meek — I deem none liycd to whom He would not speak. XLIV. To follow Jesus Christ, the meek and lowly, "Sell all thou hast and give it to the poor" — 'Tls with a vengeance done in this our holy Age and country — Go lady to the door; All that poor woman asks of thee is solely A crust of bread; 'twill not decrease thy store; Ah, give it; take those jewels from thine ears — Go sell them, Chiristiau, dry the widow's tears ! XLV. I said that Pythagoras prevailed on the Women of Grotona to renounce all Their fine clothes, and rich ornaments; yet he Would no doubt have met no very small Difficulties in his way, but that he Led them to believe him a veritable God. He taught them, that female loveliness 190 FA8HI0N. Consists in virtue, not in showy dress — XLVI. If now Almighty God should thundering say, "Let women adorn themselves in modest ApiKirel, not with costly array And gold, and pearls, and broidered hair; 'lirere best, They have meekness — do good works" — I pray, What would they make of it — only a jest? No ! you would soon see reform among us Greater than that caused by Pythagoras. XVII. Most certainly; because the present age Is further advanced in civiliza- tion than that in which, on life's narrow stage Pythagoras walked instructing the play- ers, restraining their unnatural rage — " Overstep not the modesty of na- ture — O, I have seen some strut, not having The gait of Christian, pagan, or man." King XLVIII. Midas— but I will not say here what I can — FASHION. 191 Upon Fashion I have said already More than in the beginning was my plan, And more than many persons may think should be Said by the true chivalric woman Admirer— that I am most certainly; — Are they not deserving of high admiration — The fashionable women of this nation? Jme, 1860. INTEMPERANCE. "re