CORNELL UNIVERSITY LIBRARY BOUGHT WITH THE INCOME OF THE SAGE ENDOWMENT FUND GIVEN IN 1891 BY HENRY WILLIAMS SAGE Cornell University Library PS 2737.R61H8 Hours with "jy,,,Jy,[|?|,,|I| 3 1924 022 252 971 PS 2 7 31 Cornell University Library The original of this book is in the Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924022252971 HOURS MY LYRE EDWIN REES RUSH. PHILADELPHIA: GLOBE PRINTING HOUSE, 112 AND 114 NORTH TWELFTH ST. 1884. DEDICATION TO MY EARLY FRIENDS AND PATRONS WHO KINDLY AIDED ME IN THE PRODUCTION OF A FORMF.R WORK, WHEN I MOST STOOD IN NEED OF THEIR FRIENDSHIP AND ESTEEM, THE LYRE IS MOST RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED BY THE AUTHOR. U2 ^=^f-<-X^i.^^^ /C'^-^ ^^ ^^>L^(r7 SUPPLEMENTARY NOTES, WITH A MEMOIR OF THE AUTHOR. fN presenting this volume to the public, a few words may not be out of place, as it regards the history of the author. Suffice it to say that he was born in Philadelphia, was a son of Samuel W. Rush, who was educated at the University of Pennsylvania for the legal profession, his mother being the accomplished daughter of the late Hon. Edwin Rees, of Mississippi ; and grandfather of the author, William Rush, the first American sculptor. The author does not refer to these facts in the way of any vain boast, nor for the purpose of ingratiating himself into public favor upon the celebrity of others ; on the con- trary, he thinks and believes that every man should be judged by his own personal merits, and the good opinion of the world in his case be founded entirely on the man's own good behavior in life. The Lyre is a collection of miscellaneous poems, divided into two departments — prose and poetry — consisting of odes, sonnets, celebrated characters, places of general interest, and historical sketches. The book is also comprehensive, replete with interest, embracing the charm of a novel without its deleterious in- fluence, romance or fiction. The Lyre is devoted to truth, simplicity and cultivated reading. It cannot fail to please the most capricious fancy, and is adapted to suit the taste of all kind of readers. We should encourage the works of an author where some substantial good is done, and select such books that ennoble and elevate thfe mind ? The most works of fiction and light literature are only exciting and sensational at the best, with their imaginary griefs and sorrows and overdrawn pictures of human life. Not so with real, true, genuine poetry or any other kind of select reading, where the 1 sentiment is religious, and where the teachings and prin- ciples of an author are lasting, eternal and that never tire. Such is the case with one of the purest and best of teachers of poetic literature. We allude to Longfellow, with his heavenly carol and his graceful harp. There is a vein of the happiest feeling blended with the works of the immortal poet, where he sings the purest and the loftiest hymns, and where the music of his lyre is almost celestial. We may truly say that we live in a world with him radiant with the splendor of his genius, and where the rich treasures of intellect and soul are showered about us like the sparks that fall from the golden orb of day. The chief aim of the author has been to gratify and please, and to impress favorably the mind of the reader by expressing such ideas and thoughts that are in keeping with the most refined, delicate sense. There is nothing in this world but what is imperfect, and nothing faultless but God himself. The greatest achievements of men in the arts and sci- ences and in literature are far from being infallible, but finite and faulty are we all when compared to the wisdom, perfection and knowledge of the great Creator. As it is, we are all capable of saying something to make another happy, to express a word of cheer and comfort to some poor, lan- guid heart, and in so doing soften down the woes of our fellow-creatures. A flower dropped here and there along the great highway of life, may gladden the eye of the friendless pilgrim as he wanders over the rough way of human existence. With the sincere hope of having said something to amuse and entertain the reader, and with a grateful remem- brance of the friendship and favors of the many kind friends who contributed so generously towards the publication of " Early Youth," I respectfully remain, Yours truly, Edwin Rees Rush. CONTENTS. PAGE. Ode 9 Philadelphia 11 William Eush 13 The Poet Burns 15 Burns 16 Stanzas 19 Spring 20 Falling Leaves 21 ^The Poet Longfellow 22 Majestic Trees 23 The Flag of Our Country 23 On the Bible 28 To a Leaf 29 A Wish 30 To Gertrude 31 Declining Years 33 The Sailor's Grave 33 Autumn Bain 36 To the Harp of Cowper 36 Christ Church Edifice 37 Christ Church 37 A Brother's Grave 38 Best 39 Peace ' 40 Power of Poetry 41 Grief 46 To the Sun 47 Memory of a Beloved Sister 47 Sabbath Bells 49 Captivity 50 Milton 50 Death 51 Steam Engine 52 Consumption 53 October 53 Constantine Hering, M.D 54 Blind Asylum 55 Blindness 57 My Mother's Lyre 59 Kemorse 60 Streamlet 60 To Mary 61 Truth 61 Skies of ChUdhood 62 Mossy Eock 62 TheEobin 63 Joy 63 • Washington Square 64 Affection 64 Masonic Temple 65 Interesting Eeminiscence 71 National Hymn 71 -First City Troop, Philadelphia 73 Eev. George D. Boardman, D.D 74 Inscribed to Emma 76 Endless Life 76 Plying Clouds 77 -Major-General Mansfield 77 Bereavement 79 November 79 ■ Washington 80 , Major-General George G. Meade 80 Cheerless Night 82 Lament of the Death of Major-General Eeynolds • . . 83 Lieutenant Greble ' 84 Love 84 Hymn 85 ToSkye 86 To an Eagle 87 Hope 87 The Bible 88 The Sabbath Day 90 Adversity 90 The Battle gi To the Shade of Lafayette 91 General Lafayette 92 s Christmas 93 Music 94 The Music of Home 94 ToaWildEose 95 Sorrow 95 To Laura 96 The Thrush 96 Mary 97 Poverty 100 Heaven 100 Forgiveness • 102 Farewell to a Library 102 Lines to a Green Star 103 Memory of an Aged Lady 103 Politeness 104 ^ Memory of Major-General B. Birney 105 Beauty 106 Charity l06 Happiness 107 Mother 107 ^ Colonel Henry Boyd McKean 108 The Gallant Dead 109 To Alice 110 Luna 110 To Fannie Ill Time 112 Love 113 Decoration Day 114 Virtue 115 Ode to Quiet 116 Tabernacle Baptist Church 117 To Rev. George E. Eees 118 To Joseph A. Hudson, Esq 119 Evening Chant 119 Modesty 120 Saint Luke's Episcopal Church 121 Hymn to the Eternal One 122 Dirge 123 To Blanche • . . . . 125 Fragment 125 The Cloud 127 The Kind Heart 127 A Lay .... .128 Sunlight 129 Shipwreck 130 Tributary Lines ... 130 Ode . . . . . 132 Crossing the Ocean 133 A Dirge 134 Remember Me 135 Tenth Presbyterian Church 136 f Commodore David Porter 138 Woodland Cemetery 141 Hamilton Mansion ... . . 142 Peace 145 Meditations with a Spider 145 Commodore Truxton 147 Courtland Sanders 149 Commodore James Biddle 152 The Oriole . . 155 December 156 On the Grave of Decatur 157 . Commodore Stephen Decatur 158 _Linestothe Shade of Shakespeare 160 Academy of the Fine Arts ... ... 161 The Late Samuel Willits . 166 Academy of Natural Sciences 167 Holy Trinity Church 171 Chimes of Holy Trinity 172 Ode to Adversity 174 Address to the Owl 175 Academy of Music 177 Bells of St. Marks 181 The Patriot's Tomb 184 Prayer ■ . . . 184 Laurel Hill Cemetery ... 185 Music 190 The Late John H. Wallace Smith 191 The Lamp of Day 192 Ode to Hope I93 University of Pennsylvania I95 Lost Stars 1 9g Girard College 199 Memory 201 Health 202 ' Memories of Philadelphia 204 Midnight 205 . Schuylkill Eiver 206 ^Germantown 209 Napoleon . 211 The Deity 213 Revenge 215 Independence Hall ... . . 215 Old Liberty Bell .... . . . .... 218 Despair . . . . 2L0 My Mother ... 220 Chestnut Hill . . . . 223 Chaos 225 Literature 226 Dr. Thomas G. Morton . . .227 The Late Alexander Henry, Esq . . 227 July 228 Affection 222 Mary and Willie 320 The Lordly Eagle 892 -■The Late Major-General Humphreys . . 231 New City Hail 233' Peed Me Well, I'll Live a Hundred Years 235 Ode to War 236 St. Stephen's Episcopal Churcli 237 A Naiad Queen 239 Eush Library 242 Eeading 243 Fairmount Water Works 244 Hymn Dedicated to a Sunday School 245 Bells of Saint Stephens 246 Fairmount Park . . 247 Cowper 252 To a Choir 253 Arch Street 253 -John Sartain, Esq 255 Union League . 256 Painting 258 8 Wissahickon 259 Association Hall 262 Epiphany Church 263 Deaf and Dumb Asylum 264 An Old Church 265 > Historical Society of Pennsylvania 266 A Lost Soul 267 Dr. Joseph Pancoast 268 Memory of Thomas Chatterton 268 Robert Morris 270 Horace Binney 270 The Public Ledger 272 My Mother's Bible 274 First Kegiment, National Guards, Penna 277 Mementoes 281 First West Philadelphia Baptist Church 282 Buried Indian Chief, Chestnut Hill 283 Sketch of the Old Centre Square Water Works 286 The Church Bejl 289 Farewell Address to My Readers 289 ODE. Dedicated to my Muse. SAIL to the Muse ! whose heavenly power I feel as in my youth again; Where she like summer's sunny flower, And like my boyhood's happy hour, First taught to me the melting strain. When o'er the field and meadow green, I wandered free from care and strife Where my sweet mother sought the scene. And she, with her wild harp had been. The day dream of my early life ! When at her side a careless boy — I sought with her the blooming dell; Where wild flowers did my Muse employ And I roved on, in youthful joy. With her whom I had loved so well. Celestial Muse ! oh, queenly guest ! She did my boyish life pursue, Where I with a poetic breast — And at the fount of posie blest, The draughts of inspiration drew. 2 lO The brooklet and the rippling streams I heard upon the sunny air ; Beneath the morning's rosy beams, Awoke me to Elysian dreams, Lulling the soul to thought and prayer. The music of the warbling bird. He, twittering on the balmy breeze ; A pensive joy within me stirred, Where his melodious lay I heard. The intellectual soul to please. Companion of my golden hours ! How doubly dear, how sweet to me ; Though some are dead — gone like the flowers, Whom palsying Time and Death devours. The flowers of dread eternity ! Let the sublimer opera be The comfort of the giddy throng ; Where festive joy and noisy glee, And sounds of wildest revelry, The clamor of the world prolong. And let the sacred anthem swell Along the consecrated isle; Where peace and prayer and quiet dwell, And holiness too pure to tell. Pervades the hallowed church the while. But give me yet my simple lyre, Emblem of blest simplicity ! More lovely far than earthly choir. That does with joy my soul inspire And intellectuality. II PHILADELPHIA. ^HE time-honored City of Brotherly Love is a monu- ment to the memory of its illustrious founder, William Penn. The city lies upon a gentle eminence of ground, healthy and dry, extending from the shores of the noble Delaware to the blooming banks of the traditionary Schuylkill. She, above all others, is the most lovely, the most beautiful, and, we may even say, the most sacred! The citizens of Philadelphia are proverbial for their culture and refinement — the men for their noble, manly characters and the women for their beauty. Nor are we behind any other city in manufactories and mills and foundries. We have received orders from foreign countries time and again for the most complicated pieces of machinery made nowhere else. The workmanship of our skilled mechanics has been the admiration of the world. A noticeable feature of the city is the very plain way in which the buildings have been erected ; the most of the houses are without show or os- tentation. Within these plain and unassuming dwellings reside families not only noted for their education, intelli- gence and their benevolence, but in some cases the descen- dants of the early fathers themselves of our splendid country. The celebrated Baldwin Locomotive Works have been the boast and the pride of the city ever since their erection. Mr. Baldwin himself has left the scene of his earthly labors, but another firm of intelligent, educated business men have taken the place of their honored predecessor. We can justly pride ourselves on our achievements in the arts and sciences in the city. We excel also in churches, in religious 12 societies and in colleges of medicine and law. Other cities may surpass us in some other respect — in commerce, or in regard to magnificent architecture, but they cannot vie with us so far as the greatness of a truly noble people is con- cerned. Philadelphia is the very heart of the nation's glory, and we honor and love the proud laurels that overshadow the beloved city. Philadelphia was the early residence of Washington, the great soldier and patriot. He preferred it to all other places to live in. He contracted friendships and affections during the Revolution with men who resided here, and his intercourse with them continued until death. He'was frequently with them in their beautiful homes upon the banks of the River Schuylkill, and there are many living now in the city whose ancestors were the personal friends of the illustrious hero. Be sure he spent his last days at Mount Vernon and died amid its peaceful shades, but he always loved Philadelphia. It was not surprising, for the city is now — as it was then — proverbial for just such men as a man like Washington would mingle and sympathize with. Philadelphia has the honor of being the birthplace of American Independence. The venerable edifice, is still standing in all its ancient glory and renown, and as a mon- ument to the memory of those pure, self-sacrificing men who signed within its sacred portals the memorable in- strument — the Declaration of Independence. The trophied old Hall is replete with thrilling interest; the signers, sol- diers and other historical characters cluster around the walls, and awaken within the soul precious memories of the Revolution. The National Museum is immediately op- posite and contains the relics of the historic past, princi- pal among which is the old Liberty Bell that first proclaimed liberty throughout all the land. 13 Philadelphia has been more highly honored than any- other city in the Union, in having in her citizens the most distinguished classes of men that ever lived in this country — the most noted physicians, the most celebrated lawyers, and the most famous men in all professions of life who have passed away from earth, and where time has scattered over their peaceful graves a lustre as unfading as is their im- mortal existence beyond a world of mutability and decay. WILLIAM RUSH. ^ILLIAM RUSH, whose history dates back to the Revolution in the service of General Washington, and as one of the committee of forty-three which met in Carpenter's Hall on the expediency of convoking a Con- tinental Congress, may without impropriety be introduced in this volume. Besides being frequently engaged in the service of the city, he was especially distinguished as an artist in wood statuary. He was one of the committee on the organization and building of The Academy of the Fine Arts. The first Cus- tom House in Philadelphia contained the fine statue of Com- merce, remembered by our older inhabitants. It would be in vain to recall the number of his beautiful artistic creations. The following sketch of some of these and his eminent po- sition as a sculptor, is copied from the recent valuable and exhaustive history of Philadelphia by Scharf & Westcott. " One name figures in the annals of Art in Philadelphia from the time of the Revolution until far into the present century at the head of the list of sculptors. William Rush was the creator of his art in America * * * * Ben- 14 jamin H. Latrobe, in an oration before the Society of Art- ists, in 1811, said, speaking of Rush's figures for the head of the prows of vessels, ' There is a motion in his figures that is inconceivable. They seem rather to draw the ship after them than to be impelled by the vessel. Many are of exquisite beauty. I have not seen one on which there is not the stamp of genius.' "Among the most admired ship-carvings executed by Rush were the emblematic statues, 9 feet high, adorning the prows of the American frigates " United States" and "Constellation;" the "Genius of the United States," a female form in classic drapery, graced the prow of the frigate " United States." A life-like bust of John Adams was cut by Rush for the sloop of war bearing that name. Busts and figures of Rousseau, Voltaire, and other French philoso- phers, for the vessels of Stephen Girard, full-length figures of William Penn and Benjamin Franklin, a figure of an In- dian orator, and a statue of Montezuma in the Aztec cos- tume, gave evidence of the artist's skill in reproducing the peculiar characteristics of the different races in features and expression, as well as his creative genius in purely imagi- nary subjects. "The number of busts which he modeled in clay of William Bartram in 1812, and others ending with that of Lafayette in 1824, is quite large. * * * * But the most famous statue executed by him was the full-length figure of Wash- ington, which was at first shown at the exhibition of The Academy of the Fine Arts in 181 5. This work alone would have sufficed to establish the reputation of the sculptor. This statue was put up in Independence Hall, on the occa- sion of the reception of General Lafayette in 1824, and was greatly praised by Washington's faithful friend and ally. City Councils purchased it from the artist in 1831 for five hundred dollars." IS SKETCH UPON THE POET BURNS. WJT has justly been said of Burns, the universally admired ^ Scottish bard, that he was the greatest untaught poet since Shakespeare. When we consider his limited means of acquiring knowledge, and his meagre opportunities of getting access to libraries, the fact proves that his Muse was one of original genius. Byron, with his classical attainments, and others of the same school had the most sublime models to follow, and where they had it in their power to cull the flowers of the richest literature. Not so with the illustrious Scotchman, the poetic peasant ; he had to grope his way along the best he could, and along the rugged and dangerous clefts of his poetical aspirations. He had no guide, no teacher; he drank purely and wholly from the fountain of inspiration, and was taught only from the book of nature, where the teachings of nature and God had inspired his youthful soul. To him belonged the most splendid flights of fancy, and original thought and ideas; but the greater part of the life of the distinguished poet is remembered only with sadness. His own lyre is a sad one from beginning to end. Being of an extremely proud and sensitive nature, and endowed by the Creator with an in- tellect superior to ordinary men, without the means of put- ting himself upon an equality with those who courted his Muse but who refused to associate with him as an equal, he sank beneath the pall of wretchedness and sorrow. Dis- appointed in his early affections with her who was the object of his youthful choice, he cared very little about anything else after her death. Highland Mary, to whom he so feel- ingly refers in the beautiful ode, entitled " Mary in Heaven," the Scottish lassie. She lies buried in Greenorch church- i6 yard, on the river Clyde, and where her grave is visited by pilgrims from every land. She died and left behind her a name that is without spot or blemish. The harp, too, that gave her such celebrity and renown, is silent and unstrung. But his fame is immortal, and Jjke the reflection of a glori- ous sunset after the darkness has set in, will Highland Mary and himself linger long in the hearts of his beloved country- men. BURNS. fMONG old Scotia's wilds and haunts of green, A poet born, and with a lofty mien ; Where the Creator had his mind endowed With intellect where he the soil had plowed ; Where genius had his early way bestrewed With richest garlands and whom she pursued. Where he had breathed and with poetic fire The sweetest music of his rustic lyre; Ballads and songs and quaint old-fashioned lays. He dedicated to his youthful days. A peasant boy, born in a lowly cot. Contented with his rough and humbler lot. Where agriculture and the noble art. One of the Muses was of him a part; Where his young life was spent in peaceful toil With nature, and companion of the soil ; Where early toil inscribed on history's page, And poverty were his sad heritage. He blighted, too, in his bright hopes of one He deeply loved and cherished as his own, 17 Where Highland Mary trod with him along His happy way, queen of his tuneful song — His youthful choice and whom he loved the best, And kept forever in his faithful breast ; Where life without her seemed a desert waste. And her sweet smile had fled in rapid haste. Inured to hardship and laborious years, His hapless youth a sad remembrance bears : No .kindly mother, and no gentle smile — To cheer his childhood or his griefs beguile ; Where he the smiles of fortune never knew, No smiling hope, no sky of sunny blue. He toiled all day incessant in the field. That did but little comfort to him yield, Save where he lingered in his boyish hours By babbling brooklet or the woody bowers. Gathered the flowers that around him spread Their fragrant bloom in days forever fled. Or turned to listen to the melody Of wild bird, as he twittered in the tree ; Where he first learned to worship at the shrine Of poesy, and in days of youthful prime. In the young morning of his happy years With Highland Mary and whom memory bears. Where Scotland wept for her poetic dead, And woodland deep had echoed with his tread ; Where bright blue skies had pierced the forest deep. And zephyr lulled the dreamy tree to sleep. Where he had sung of birds and rustic flowers, Scattered around him in his joyful hours ; Where he repaired with his poetic lyre, i8 Laden with joy and with celestial fire ; Where he depicted with exquisite grace The charms that had within its heart a place. He paints the chambers of the glowing west With crimson beauty and in glory drest, Unveils the flower as it scents the air, And whispers of the blooming meadow near. He sings, too, of the rainbow in the blue Celestial arch that breaks upon the view ; Depicts the storm, and tells us of the blast. Where desolation is around him cast. Such were the joys of his eventful life, Where fancy blest him, and allayed his strife, Sooth'd the lone hours that he learned to bear His early sorrow and his orphan tear. A poet born, created to command, Beloved and cherished by his native land. — Whom Kings and Queens had flattered for a while, And fawned around him with deceitful smile, Courted his favor and his lyre blest Ere yet he sank away to peace and rest. His brief career is full of grief and tears. Of saddest sorrow and of orphan years ; Where bitter were the tears his childhood shed. And lay around him the material dead ; Where he himself wrapt in death's cold embrace, Lay in the tomb — our final resting place. 19 STANZAS. To the Evening Star Venus. C^VwHERE God has made the dark blue vault afar, ^^HIS noble institution is situated on the corner of Twen- tieth and Race Streets, and is conspicuous for the es- timable blessings conferred upon that suffering class — the helpless blind. The literary department, as well as the useful branch of handicraft taught at the asylum, is under the im- mediate control of Professor William Chapin, the honored and beloved principal of the institution, who has had many long years of experience with the blind. Weekly entertain- ments are held here, consisting principally of music, that de- partment being under the direction of Professor Hahn, the most efficient teacher of music the institution has ever had. Experience has proven him to be the one best adapted to the arduous task of imparting music to the blind, and under such unfavorable circumstances. The exhibition hall is large and comfortable, a magnificent organ being a promi- 56 nent feature of these instructive entertainments, and which is to be seen upon the platform at the end of the hall. Upon the walls are placed memorial tablets of those who have taken a deep interest in the welfare of the unfortunate blind, and who have also generously contributed towards this institution. The bust of Bishop White, Homer and others are also to be seen erected upon pedestals. The mode of instruction is explained by Professor Battles, an esteemed officer of the asylum. Mr. Battles explains to the audience the progress the blind are capable of making in the various branches of study. The asylum is a happy, pleasant home to those whom God ha.s seen fit to afflict and deprive of their sight. Mr. Chapin, happy in his duty, and ever faithful to the instincts of a noble nature, has been to the poor blind an unfailing friend, and during his long life has manifested the deepest interest in their welfare and comfort. We may truly say of him that he ranks among the noblest benefactors of this asylum, some of whom have gone down to their graves, but whose virtues blossom around us like the fragrance of the scented flowers. Every- thing is done to contribute towards the happiness of the blind here. Literary amusements, lyceums, games and out-door exercises are at their command. The visitor is struck, on entering the institution, with the neat, cleanly appearance of the place, everything being in perfect order and denot- ing the good discipline of the officers. The home, which is happy and without blight or gloom, is controlled by a board of directors, who, too, have given their time towards the amelioration of the suffering of their fellow-creatures, and have identified themselves with this good and noble work — Dr. Alfred L. Elwyn, recently deceased, well known also for his acts of benevolence and charity, being president of the board. One of the most remarkable in.stances of S7 blindness referred to in the annual report of the institution by Prof. Chapin, is that of the Rev. Dr. Blackwood, of Edin- burgh, who made the greatest proficiency in the classics and attained the greatest eminence, who lost his sight when six months old, but who possessed all the brilliant faculties of seeing men ; a poet and author, who could describe with his splendid imagination in a masterly manner, the charms and beauties of nature. Mr. David D. Wood, the musical director of Saint Stephen's Episcopal Church, in this city, was a pupil at the blind asylum, and is conceded to be one of the most accomplished organists of the country. Among the early founders of the institution may be men- tioned the names of Robert Vaux, J. Francis Fisher, Frank- lin Peale, Hon. Judge Kane, Judge Parsons, Friedlander, John Vaughan, Doctor Physic and the celebrated Nathan Dunn. BLINDNESS. DARKNESS, like the midnight skies, The sorrows of the blind prolong ; Where he, with his dim, palsied eyes, In silence gropes his way along. He hears the gay and sprightly song Of spring bird on the sunny air. But cannot see the warbling throng; The helpless blind — can only hear. Where, cheerless and in lone retreat. He spends his days in endless night ; Where gathering storms around him beat. Of sorrow and despair and blight ; 5 58 Where darkness has usurped the light. The sunshine of the cheerful skies, And every pleasure and delight Before his soul in sadness lies. Lonely and dark — oh ! hapless child ! How drear the world must be to you. On whom the sun has never smiled To gladden thy beclouded view. The green earth and the sky of blue, Unheeded, hears thy mournful plea; Where morning pours her rosy hue Upon the earth — but not for thee. To have a home, yet not to know The hallowed joys it does impart ; Where love's pure, choicest blessings flow And linger deep in every heart ; Where every man can bear a part In all the purest sweets of life. Home cancels grief and every dart Of sorrow and of anxious strife. Tho' youth may breathe k trembling plea, And sing of hopes and fairer flowers ; Of brighter days and dreams of glee ; Of tender years and childhood hours ; But yet a silent gloom devours Sunshine and joy — with base alloy — Where they mourn in this world of ours The priceless boon that we enjoy. Dreadful ! when want and poverty Is added to their wretched days ; 59 When she, uncheered adversity, In bitterness upon them preys ; Tho' mercy, with her soothing lays, Sings sweet to them her hymn, and kind; Where charity their lot surveys, To pity and to cheer the blind ! MY MOTHER'S LYRE. 'ho cultured me, and taught me how to sing In artless lays, and like her simple lyre. Oh ! where she did my careless heart inspire With boyish bliss, and in life's youthful Spring ; Where my sweet mother taught me to admire The Spring, the Summer and the Winter wild, Where she had on my early childhood smiled — Oh happy days ! wrapped in their blest attire. If I can meet her in the better land, Renew with her her prayer and melting lays — The hope shall cheer me all my earthy days ; If I can meet her on that golden strand Where all is peace, and on that quiet shore My sainted mother and to part no more. 6o REMORSE. 'iTHIN the graveyard and too late for tears, Remorse has poured her plaint — a guilty thing; Where silent death has spread his sable wing In token of the grave's consuming fears ; Where virtue sleeps that never told her wrong; Where coldness wraps the pillow of the blest, Tho' the deep pang yet lingers in the breast ; Where slighted love has hushed her pensive song. And hapless youth, whose cheek no more reveals Its peerless beauty and its opening bloom. Sinks now beneath the weight of rankling gloom Where death its doom in endless sorrow seals. Oh ! fell remorse, where thou hast ceased to lay A withering blight upon the hepless clay. STREAMLET. 2ISSING the zephyr as it lingers near. Sauntering through yonder solitary grove, I hear the bird perched in the tree above. Pouring his woodland music on the air ; Where thou art wrapt in silent reverie, Meandering streamlet, near thy rustic bowers. Like to the poet, and his musing hours, Gliding along, unfettered and so free ; Dear to the past, and to those sunny years. Where thy romantic hills I now survey, I keep within my heart as yesterday The fond affection that remembrance bears ; Beautiful scene, sequestered spot of old That charms the eye and does my heart enfold. 6i TO MARY. §MOOTH be the pathway of thy earthly life, Where e'er thou art in this sad world of ours ; Bright be the world to thee like smiling flowers, Thy youthful path with every blessing rife. Brief is our life, and fleeting is our bloom, We wither like a dying leaf away, But may bright hope sing on thy gladsome way Her sweetest songs to cheer a world of gloom. There is no grief but what is healed at last By the unfailing hope of better years ; Some ling' ring joy, some sunshine yet appears. Even amid affliction's bitter blast ; Some silver lining to the lowering cloud That does our prospects and our hopes enshroud. TRUTH. §HE blessed, chaste, unsullied and so pure, A stainless snowflake falling at our feet ; Goddess of heavenly grace she does repeat Her golden precepts where she does endure. There is a perfume sweeter than the rose, Fadeless and lasting in eternal truth. Divinely blest within the days of youth. Where she her spotless ermine does disclose ; Smiling beneath a canopy of flowers, Where they with her burst into richer birth. She holds dominion o'er this sinful earth, And does control our better, purer hours ; Like the unspotted sinless star above. She fills the soul with purity and love. 62 SKIES OF CHILDHOOD. fH ! childhood let thy skies upon me shine, Thy brighter hopes, thy days of tranquil rest ! When grief a stranger to my youthful breast, Could never mar my day of bloom and prime. Oh ! let me feel as in my youth again. The fancies and the dreams and joys of youth ! Wander again a path of purest truth, When life to me was like Spring's genial reign. I dream of some who sleep now all alone. Who made life once to me like smiling Spring; When Hope had waved for me her golden wing, And I her lay had loved once as my own. Hope's harp lies broken and the flowers die — Where darkness wraps for me the earth and sky. MOSSY ROCK. fNLY a mossy rock in woodland deep Skirting the brook, I hail with pensive eye ; Smiling beneath the soft blue rolling sky — Yet dumb, unconscious and inert, asleep ! But God created and as well as me Thy humbler being in the lonely wood; Companion now of deepest solitude. Where I a simpler converse hold with thee Part of the glory that I hail around, Hill, dell and stream clothed in their green attire Where meditation does the soul inspire. With joy unspeakable and peace profound; Where lovely nature in her beauty drest Exerts a charm on the poetic breast. 63 THE ROBIN. kHE night no longer veils the cheerful view With sable darkness and with sullen hue ; Where she obscures the soft and trembling light Of sunset, and that does the soul delight; Hail, morning ! with thy soft and rosy beams, The clustering spangles that around me streams. I hear the robin where he softly sings And where he soars on dew bespangled wings, To cheer the earth, to glad the lonely hour, Companion of the grove and scented flower ; I hear him in the leafy woodland tree. He twittering his sweetest melody; Melodious songster ! where I love to muse. With him whom peace and happiness pursues. JOY. NYMPH of gladness ! where she has her birth. Stealing around us with her presence bright, She decks the world, and fills it with delight ! Parent of peace and happiness and mirth ; Where sorrow fails, and no abiding place Can have with us, nor be of us a part Like brighter skies that stream upon the heart, Or dazzling sunshine in the realms of space. Tripping along the blooming fields of Spring, I felt her presence on the sunny air, Where she came, stealing like enchantment, near. And waved aloft her gay and blooming wing. 64 WASHINGTON SQUARE. kEAUTEOUS of squares, time-honored and replete With memories that haunt thy charming scene > I hail again thy grassy beds of green. Oh, lovely spot ! forever blest and sweet ; Thy old ancestral trees have bloomed for years, Palsied with age and crumbling to decay ; Where ruthless time, with his relentless sway, Usurps thy early reign that memory bears. Improved and cultured is thy green retreat, Where ornamental grace is viewed around ; Where studied art thy lovely walks surround, And song and story does thy fame repeat ; Where Randal, Reed and Binney loved to be. And the illustrious dead that cherished thee. AFFECTION. (^TfFECTIONATELY to our natures given A priceless gem — a jewel sent from heaven ; Without it home is but a sterile wild And waste, where love has never on us smiled ; But gild its portals with that heavenly flame. Where all else in the world is but a name, And peace and hope and joy and fairest flowers And sunshine is our lot, and brightest hours ; Where mother, father, wife and children blest, Is the bright day star of the hopeful breast; Where they make home a blessed paradise With their sweet voice, and like the cheering skies. Oh, pure affection 1 like a spotless rose. No grief can blast, nor life's consuming woes. 6s MASONIC TEMPLE. Dedicated to the Hon. Richard Vaux, Past Grand Master. kHE magnificent temple devoted to the secrets of Free Masonry is one of the most imposing structures to be seen in Philadelphia. The edifice is built of solid masonry and marble, and was erected by Mr. Windrim, the celebrated architect. With its grand entrance, formidable looking walls, and stately granite towers piercing the bright blue sky, the temple presents a proud and noble object to the eye of the beholder. The interior of the spacious edifice is handsomely furnished, and ornamented in the most beau- tiful manner. Such a building is worthy of the noble record that it bears, and where its present honored and distin- guished sons throw a halo over the shades of its historic past. The prinipal object of attraction is the lodge rooms, the Grand Lodge room being the most conspicuous. The upholstery is exquisite, the handsomely curtained windows throwing a mellow light over the richly carpeted floors. Marble ornaments and superb walnut furniture add to the grandeur of the place. Shields and devices, mottoes and emblems are to be seen here and there throughout the tem- ple, typical of the learned and ancient order. Very little is known of Free Masonry by the outside world. The book is forever sealed containing the secrets of that society, and can be read only by those who are closely identified with the mysteries of that fraternity. We can only look on and admire the profession, and applaud the noble deeds of that man, wherever he is, who is always willing to relieve, to the extent of his ability, the sufferings of his fellow-creatures. A marked feature of the place is the awe-inspiring impres- sion that one feels upon entering the sanctuary — for sane- 66 tuary it is — a shrine devoted to the Muses, to science and art, to the noblest and loftiest aspirations, and where sculp- ture — the most classic art— is the crowning grace of the beautiful temple. Speaking poetically, it is an amphitheatre where the soul is lost in the strains of divinest music, thought and fancy, and where the key of knowledge is hidden from human sight. Music does not appear to have been cultivated by the votaries of the magnificent order, but her voice is not silent. Her hymns are heard in noble acts of charity and in the amelioration of the woes of men. Sculptured figures ornament the corridors and halls, and throw a classic grandeur over the temple, principal among which is Rush's superb figure of "Silence," stand- ing at the head of the grand staircase, and where the heavenly goddess is steeped in a flood of rosy light, steal- ing upon her from the stained glass windows. She has her finger upon her lip, enjoining the strictest silence. The graceful folds of her drapery hang loosely about her feet, where her votaries worship at her altar and obey her man- dates. This fine work of art was executed by Rush, many years ago, for the old Masonic Hall, on Chestnut Street below Eighth. The old building was somewhat similar to the present edifice, but not so grand nor elaborate. The names of some of the most distinguished men of the coun- try are enrolled among the honored brotherhood who be- longed to the order, foremost among whom is Washington, the illustrious soldier and Father of his country. Within our own day, and in the city of Philadelphia, may be men- tioned the name of George M. Dallas, Vice-President of the United States ; also that of Reed, Page, Chandler and others, all brilliant lights in the constellation of Free Masonry. But they have all closed their earthly labors, and the silent canvass is the only memorial of their departed usefulness 67 and bloom. The portraits of these worthy dignitaries are to be seen upon the walls of the first floor of the building. Our faint hopes and lives soon wither away beneath the palsying touch of time, and like a fatal blight the grave soon sweeps away our fairest prospects. But not so with yon beautiful temple ! A thousand years shall scatter the blossoms of fame and renown upon its outward form, and when we, ourselves, repose within the tomb, shall perpetu- ate the memory of its distinguished dead ! MASONIC TEMPLE. AJESTIC pile 1 whose stately towers rJ\C^ Blend proudly with the morning hours ; Where silvery day and lucid skies In streams of light before us lies ; Where morn, she, smiling in the blue. Celestial arch, breaks on the view. Within thy gayly decked retreat Time-honored and fair learning's seat; A pleasing charm, like blooming Spring, Lies scattered round on everything ; Where silence is the chief command That she enjoins, august and grand ; Where she, within thy corridors, Deep thought and silent prayer implores. Queen-like and with imperial smile, To cheer the hall and cloistered isle ; Symbol of strictest privacy. Emblem of purest liberty. 68 Where tyranny and bigots cease Beneath the flowers of lavished peace; Oh, gallant knights ! where heroes bled And fell — dear freedom's martyred dead. The greatest and the best have stood Within thy peaceful solitude, Secluded from the worldling throng, Discoursing there their secret song Where emblem, and device and grave Escutcheon tells us of the brave. Temple of silence and of thought, With intellect and virtue fraught; Where love has laid her trophies near . Thy altar, and in silent prayer ; Where golden seal and signature, And graver mysteries endure. Oh ! where the educated throng Have sung with thee their hallowed song; Where culture trims her lamp with thee, Ancient of days, majestic, free ! Where stained glass window pours its light In splendor all around and bright; Emblazoned with thy ancient fame, Thy great renown, and pride and name, Flooding the casement and the view With sunshine and with streaks of blue. Oh ! where thy goddess proudly stands, And peerless grace o'er her expands ; Where sculptor with his art has given To her the lineaments of heaven ; Queen-like, and where she does command The strictest silence with her hand. 69 So statuary is of thee The boast of all antiquity, The pride of classic Greece and Rome, Smiling beneath thy towering dome ; Where sculpture shall thy fame and thee Yet transmit to posterity — When we ourselves shall be cease to be Pale travelers to eternity. Oh, Death ! implanting in the heart. Thy poisoned sting, thy deadly dart — Stealing away our sense and powers. Stealing upon our happiest hours. Oh ! scattering with thy awful fears A mildew on our brightest years. And steeping in despair and gloom Our souls, our beauty and our bloom. None can unlock the secret springs Of knowledge and unknown things, Where wisdom is a part of thee And of unraveled mystery; Where thy eternal mercy throws A blessing o'er a world of woes ; Thy doctrine is to soothe and cheer And to allay the falling tear. Where sorrow in her dark retreat Does thy unfailing love repeat. And where thou art the friend of woe, The purest charity to know — Allaying the unhappy breast. And cheering those who cannot rest; And where thy mission is to heal Another's bitter pang to feel. •JO Where patriots came in days of prime To lay their laurels at thy shrine, Emerging from the battle-field Where dearest freedom was their shield ; Where hearthstone and paternal fires Yet tell us of our early sires. Where Washington had bowed in prayer And knelt in adoration there ; Loved leader of the brave and free ! Dear child of sweetest liberty ! Enrolled among the faithful brave, He sleeps within a laureled grave, So pure, so manly and so true, His life was like the sky of blue. Within thy mystic halls of State, Statesmen have lingered, and the great With science and with culture fraught, Thy sons of intellectual thought; Where Dallas, Reed had bent the knee To worship at thy shrine and thee ; Where they had felt poetic fire. And they had tuned a polished lyre — Theirs was the music of the lute. But all their harp strings now are mute. Let thy historic dead repose Where peace and endless quiet flows. And centuries as they come and flee. Yet whisper of thy pedigree ; A mellowing hue yet scatter on Thy noble and majestic form, And when a thousand years have cast Their shadows on thy glorious past. 71 INTERESTING REMINISCENCE. 'R. CHARLES S. KEYSER, of this city, the well- known counsellor at the Philadelphia Bar, has in his possession many valuable records of historical interest. He is familiar with the history of all the old families of the city, and is an antiquarian upon this subject. His library is ornamented with busts of eminent and distinguished men. A fine bust of Daniel Webster is placed over the cases, and a remarkable looking figure-head of Rivian Jove. The grand- father of Mr. Keyser was the President of the first tariff meet- ing held in Philadelphia; it took place on the isth day of December, 1829, and its object was to have a duty imposed on barley and potatoes. This gentleman's name was Jacob Shearer, a Philadelphia county farmer and a soldier of the revolution. He, like all the rest of those noble men, has bequeathed to us the priceless boon of freedom, and where we look back over their patriotism, bravery and spirit with admiration and pride. NATIONAL HYMN. SOUND reverberated throughout the forest depths, echoed across the mountain top, wafted over the peace- ful vale, and ejaculated over the waters of the most distant sea that precious, hallowed hymn of ours, sung by our gallant sires, and the symbol of our most sacred liberty — taught by the mother to her child — the cheer and comfort of the sol- dier on the battle-field and the dirge, also, of the dead statesman as he lay upon his couch in the immovability of death. The pride and boast of every American, and where, as the last alternative, our cannon is the sure, certain pro- tection of the Republic, when all else has failed, and when the Bible, education and intelligence is of no avail. •J2 NATIONAL HYMN. §UNG in the battle by the free ! Sung by the sons of liberty ; Where shot and shell bestrewed the ground, And martyred heroes fell around ; Where patriot mothers cried aloud For sons wrapped in their snowy shroud — Dying their native land to save, Dying for sires in the grave, Dying with the heroic brave. Trembling on the inspired tongue Of minstrel in the choir sung ; Where sacred anthem did inspire The wrapt soul with celestial fire ; Where God has saved our native land And did its vile foes disband ; Where bowed the soul to God in prayer To him in supplication there, Who did the blest petition hear. Ye gallant sons of liberty, Ye leaders of the brave and free ! Oh ! let your bristling cannon bear Your glorious triumph far and near ; Commemorative of the past The shock of battle and the blast ; For the dear sake of honored sires, For mothers and fraternal fires. Whom earthly hope no more inspires. Whisper it gently at the grave Of fallen comrades and the brave, 73 Sleeping beneath the peaceful skies Of freedom, and where hero lies. Let not a shadow nor a breath Fall on it like the pall of death ; Sing it your quiet homes within, Dear freedom's consecrated hymn, Without a blight, a spot, or sin. Oh ! let that sacred song arise, Echo through the remotest skies — The sweetest anthem ever sung By aged sire or the young ; Oh! sing that blessed hymn divine For country and for native clime, For home and its beloved shrine ! Sung on the land, and on the sea, The pilgrim's hope the wanderer's plea; Divinely pure, and purely blest. Hymn of the friendless and oppressed. Inured within the dungeon vile. Where dreams of freedom on him smile ; Where soulless tyrants sink away. Beneath our country's thrilling lay, And we her proud precepts obey. FIRST CITY TROOP, PHILADELPHIA. kHE First City Troop is*the oldest military cavalry organ- ization in the country. The company was famous in the days of the Revolution and among the first to offer their services to the country in the struggle with Great 6 74 Britain. They distinguished themselves for their patriotisn:» and bravery in all the principal battles of the war, and have- kept up and retained their proud and honored name ever since. The laurels that they won in the memorable siege continue with them, where these patriotic men and brave hearts can look back with pride upon their past record, where they stood so nobly by their country in its extremity, and covered Washington with the protection of their swords- — who won his admiration and praise, and who lavished their money so freely and generously for the good of the whole country, and to make us free. Historic Troop! — ye gallant knights of old. Covered with glory and with lustre bright! The battle field and the victorious fight Has to the world your fame and valor told. The Revolution and the storied past Comes breathing of your proud celebrity. Enrolled among the sons of chivalry, Foremost in battle, and the fray and blast. Lovers of freedom ! where that flag of ours. Triumphant on the land and on the sea. Washed in the blood of martyrs and the free, Is waving o'er you like the graceful flowers. Famous of troops! — wrapped in your rich attire^ I hail your armor with enraptured lyre. REV. GEORGE D. BOARDMAN, D.D. »HIS reverend gentleman is pastor of the First Baptist <" Church, Philadelphia. Dr. Boardman is a general favorite among all denominations, a pleasant speaker, and a 75 thorough Bible student, and in this particular has no superior among his clerical brethren. Dr. Boardman has been a great traveler; he has visited the most celebrated localities iden- tified with the times and doings of our Saviour, and is familiar with the habits and customs of the people of those times, all of which enrich his sermons with the gems of sacred literature, and throw around him a charm that few men possess. He is not only eminent as a divine and Christian minister, but is a scholar, author and writer. His late celebrated lectures in this city were the most learned ones ever delivered here, or before a Philadelphia audience. His erudition and knowledge of Holy Writ is equaled only by his pure Christian character. We contemplate with feelings of praise his virtues as a man, and believe in and admire his deep, fervent piety as a minister of the gospel. Teacher of Holy Writ and reverend sire. Thy sermons please and charm my pensive lyre; Learned and gifted, where thy cultured mind Is storied, educated and refined ; Where love, and truth, and meek humility Lie deep within the soul, and live with thee; Where God has blest you, and a brilliant wreath Lies scattered on thy path — his throne beneath, With intellectual grace and heavenly truth Like sunshine streaming on the path of youth. Or glittering stars within the vault of heaven To gild a world, to gloomy darkness given, Leading us on to more inspired thought To God, and by thy blessed counsel taught. 76 INSCRIBED TO EMMA. tH, gentle lady ! — chase that look away Of sadness from thy bright blue laughing eye ; It ill becomes one like the radiant sky, For thou art nearly always blithe and gay ; Think not of sorrow in thy youthful day. Go, cull the flowers of joy and sunny bloom, Let not the world with its untimely gloom Upon thy light and happy moments prey. A smiling path — oh ! wander while you may — Wander a sky of sunny hope beneath, Where thou art decked with beauty's peerless wreath. Oh ! let me weep and sorrow and deplore, But let thy feeling plaint be heard no more. ENDLESS LIFE. fIVE me the harp that tells of endless life, Freed from a world of blighted love and bliss ; Where grief can never come, nor wretchedness. But peace outshines these scenes of woe and strife; There where the happy of departed hours Have found a rest within those golden spheres, Where the immortal, sinless soul appears Forever mingling with celestial flowers ; Where, freed from earth and its laborious toil, We^wander, too, in the eternal land With those who did our grateful love command. And meet our loved ones on the peaceful soil. Forever in that bright and better clime — Youthful and fair as in our day of prime. 77 FLYING CLOUDS. fARTING about on furious pinions driven, The flying clouds obscure the sky of blue, Where yonder river wears a sullen hue, And they are piled up in the vault of heaven. A desolation seems to haunt the scene ; And where the beating storm is heard to sigh, Lonely and sad, where the bewildered eye Looks on in fear, on nature's angry mien — So lowering clouds steal on our sunny way. Darken the prospect of our cheering skies, Tho' hope upon our path in promise lies, Gilding life's landscape with a brighter ray. 'Tis but a moment with the cloud at last For life's bleak storm and tempest soon is past. MAJOR-GENERAL MANSFIELD. IE cannot refrain from heaving a tender sigh over the grave of the aged patriot Major-General Mansfield. Major-General George B. McClellan makes special mention of this venerable soldier, who was attached to his own staff In one of his reports he says of Mansfield, that he was shot dead only a few yards from his own horse. The hero of Antietam and other celebrated battles feelingly alludes to the untimely death of this favorite oflScer. He says that it was with feeling of sorrow that he saw the aged veteran lay down his noble life upon the altar of freedom, and where the Stars and Stripes had been his well-earned fune- ral pall. We might refer to others who have emulated the glorious example of Mansfield, for they can be enumerated 78 by thousands, but he fell in declining years. His was un- flinching patriotism and devotion to a beloved country in its extremity. There was Reno, the heroic, gallant chief of his troops, ever true and faithful and steadfast to the last, but who was shot away from his horse beneath a canopy of clustering beautiful flags. Then, again, the youthful McPherson, deiiant and unconquered even in the hour of death, cheering his faltering troops and sinking at last at the very cannon's mouth into his boyish tomb; and last, though not least, the noble Reynolds, swept away by the fatal missile in the bright promise of his hopes ! — the in- trepid, the cultured, the refined and brilliantly gifted soldier — within sight of victory ! Let the flag of our fathers be his winding sheet. Let him rest in the blooming vale where Reynolds died, where he fell into the arms of his weeping comrades, and they lay him upon a rough couch overspread with rustic flowers, he sleeping on beneath a mantle of green ferns and leaves of forest trees. Nearly a hundred winters had bestrewed His manly forehead with the snows of age. When he, his country's foeman did engage In mortal conflict and the battle viewed ; Yet in an hour of anguish and of dread The bullet swept away his fleeting breath ; Where he lay trembling in the grasp of death, A soldier, and the venerable dead, So pure, where he, in his declining years. Gave up his life for his sweet liberty ! The aged patriot ! yet the brave and free ! For whom dear freedom sheds her grateful tears. Dear object of a wife's unfailing love — She rests him now within the quiet grove. 79 BEREAVEMENT. fSAW a mother weeping o'er the dead, Complaining of the loss that she had met; Where lay a rosebud and a violet, Where funeral lilies her fond hand had spread ; I saw her trembling at the couch of death, Bending around the dead that near her lay — An infant child — a cold and senseless clay Swept from her heart by the destroyer's breath. Benumbed and strickened by affliction's dart, She lay her golden treasure in the tomb. Where memory breathed of its brief fleeting bloom, She kept within her fond maternal heart ; She learned, at last, submission's hymn to sing, And to a Saviour's promise learned to cling. NOVEMBER. J^OVEMBER'S languid sky has come at last. The lonely winds I hear them all around, Reverberating with a mournful sound; And where I listen to the howling blast, The yellow sheaves of fodder in the field Sicken upon my melancholy view ; Where I behold again the sickly hue Of earth that does a sadness to me yield — "Emblem of my own death and my decay. When I must perish in the storm of life. Must feel the grave's cold touch and bear its strife, And pass forever from the earth away ; There is a Springtime where November's blast Is never known but forever passed. 8o WASHINGTON. I HE purest patriot that ever stood Before the foe in any clime or land, Was Washington — for he was purely grand,. Divinely blest"and pure and nobly good; A gallant leader whom his country blest, And loved him to his life's remotest day; Where history does his honored past display. And spreads his tomb with an immortal crest Of fadeless lustre; where his day of prime, Seems yet to blossom 'round us like a flower ; Where fell oblivion never can devour His brilliant victories that 'round us shine; Affection has enshrined within the heart His manly nature, and of us a part. MAJOR-GENERAL GEORGE G. MEADE. JHE funeral procession of this distinguished soldier — buried as we all must be at last — was solemnized with, more ceremony than is usual on such occasions. The hero of Gettysburg! The pageant was one of the most imposing ones ever witnessed in Philadelphia. The funeral ceremonies- took place at noon, and the mournful cortege wended; its way through some of the principal streets of the city. The solemn train rested at St. Mark's Episcopal Church, where the last sad rites of the burial service were performed' over the dead. A beautiful impressive requiem was sung, followed by a few parting words appropriate upon such, occasions. The procession reached the Green Street en- trance of Fairmount Park, where the remains of the beloved! 8i soldier were placed upon a steamer and borne over the placid river to their last resting place at the Laurel^Hill Cemetery. General Meade's funeral was attended by some of the most eminent men of the nation, principal among whom were General Grant, and other well-known officers- of the army and navy. Dedicated to the Meade Post. Where Schuylkill with its rippling, gliding wave. Its gentle music pours upon the breeze ; He sleeps ! but never more the soul to please, Save where he slumbers in yon quiet grave ; Where fragrant wreaths and flowers of opening bloom,. Dispel the darkness of the dreary tomb — The bleeding breast and rent heart to appease. On yon majestic bluff above the stream. Where Laurel Hill is filled with varied flowers To decorate his lonely funeral bowers; Where fond hearts linger near and of him dream, Where his illustrious departed past, A deathless halo has around us cast Of his heroic deeds, like blooming flowers. But his domestic virtues, like the rose, Pouring its fragrance on his grassy tomb. Outlast the grave and its corroding gloom ; Tho' memory's tear in silent sorrow flows, A gentle father and a husband blest. Enshrined within his children's grateful breast. And where he does in ceaseless memory bloom. So, cultured, educated and refined. He culled the flowers of learning and of thought; Where virtue's purest ways were with him fraught. 82 Endowed by nature with a gifted mind ; Where he had loved in his brief, fleeting hours The sweet song of the bird and blossomed flowers, That he in intellectual joy had sought. He led our army on to victory ! His fearless sword defied the boastful foe, When freedom nerved him in his country's woe. To meet with valiant heart the enemy ; Where he had worshipped at the sacred shrine. Of Liberty within his native clime. And dealt the manly, honorable blow. She, parting day, is rosy on his tomb ! There where she leaves her golden, crimson trace, The grave's green coverlid has hid his face, Yet in our hearts he lives in endless bloom ; The mournful owl begins her lonely cry, I hear her in the trees and bushes by Breathing her plaint in this sad, cheerless place. The landscape wears a melancholy hue Where darkness has usurped the light of day ; Where sunset with her golden, blushing ray Has disappeared and left the sky of blue ; Where I repeat to thee, lone funeral scene — Farewell ! — I wander from thy haunts of green, Thou solitary, sullen stream, away. CHEERLESS NIGHT. MjARKNESS and gloom where cheerless night abounds, In silent horror broods upon our eyes ; Nothing but uncheered gloom and viewless skies 83 Molest, and the desponding soul surrounds ; Peaceful within our homes and fireside, Where plenty smiles and want is never known. Not so with the poor, houseless, friendless one. Where life to him is but a gloomy void; There is a night of sorrow and despair, Where he the homeless, hapless wretch is found, He wandering the wide, wide world around, Forsaken, and unblest his griefs to bear. 'Tis hard enough to feel the chilling blast Of woe, and where the day of hope is past. LAMENT OF THE DEATH OF MAJOR-GENERAL REYNOLDS. Killed at the Battle of Gettysburg, OjX/HERE Gettysburg's blood-stained victorious field Had been to thee a bright and hopeful scene. Thy death had come, bleeding upon the green. Falling beneath dear freedom's glorious shield — Shot on thy horse and in the leafy grove That echoed with thy latest parting sigh ; Where plaintive bird in tones of sadness by Had breathed thy funeral chant in tender love, Leading a charge against the deadly foe ; And in the midst of bloom and promise bright Death came to thee, and with a mortal blight JBlasted the brightest hopes that life can know. Yet o'er thy grave a grateful county weeps For her dear son, where he in silence sleeps. 84 LIEUTENANT GREBLE. To the Greble Post. ^HIS young officer was one of the earliest victims of the war. He enh"sted at the commencement of the Rebel- hon, but never lived to see the victory gained, and the pride and boast of our nation preserved inviolate. Lieutenant Greble was shot in action at the battle of Great Bethel. la accordance with the wishes of his wife, his remains were quietly forwarded to Philadelphia, enclosed in a metallic, cofifin, and taken hence to the Woodland Cemetery, where they now repose. Foremost amid the carnage and the fight. The deafening roar of cannon heard about. Thy brave young life expired and went out, Tho' all the world to thee was fair and bright. Thou wert that valiant, heroic child Of dearest freedom and of liberty, Dreaming of home, and flag and victory, On whom a proud but bleeding nation smiled ; Yet swept away in thy young morning days, Like a fair flower crushed in its early bloom, Too prematurely laid within the tomb. Where darkness now upon thy bosom preys ; Where she, the object of thy youthful life, Is laid with thee, thy fond, devoted wife. LOVE. gjH, love ! a sunbeam to the path of man, ^ Falling upon him in his sadder hours. When most he needs thy soul enlivenmg powers,. 8s And none but thee his woes can kindly scan; Then with thy healing in a tranquil hour, Soothing away affliction and despair, Breathing thy presence, like enchantment, near, Or like the sunshine to the opening flower; Where hope, with her bright promise, does elate The soul, steeped in tumultuous care and strife; Where home with peace and happiness is rife. And wedded bliss her story does relate; The sole companion of our earthly days: Pure love to us like music's soothing lays. HYMN. To Helen. ,^' jH ! the perpetual peace of heaven Is his upon that placid shore; Where endless hope is never riven, But loved ones meet to part no more. Surely there is some happy goal. Some recompense beyond the tomb, Some brighter prospect for the soul Steeped here in bitterness and gloom. Where blighted love and streaming tears Tell of our fleeting, flitting days ; Where gathering cloud and storm appears, And death so soon upon us preys. Oh, happy thought ! forever blest! How lovely to my pensive lyre ; To think of peace and hope and rest. Where pleasures never fail nor tire. 86 TO SKYE. tH ! Skye shall live where'er I go; If others die before I do, Their love for him I learned to know, For their dear sake I will renew. Poor, friendless Skye — no other heart May care for him if left alone ; Yet I will be of him a part, Feed him and love him as my own. Because the blessed one that sleeps. Perhaps, in the untroubled tomb Had loved him, where affection weeps. And petted him in days of bloom. Companion of the weary hours. When none but him her love had blest; Where lonely solitude devours The gayer pleasures of the breast. So Skye shall be my special guest, If that shall ever be my lot; If such shall be the last request Of those who love, and hate him^not. Then, when at last he sleeps in death, His epitaph I will repeat. Or where, with my expiring breath, Will I weep at his lone retreat. Oh ! tell how faithful Skye had been To those who knew and loved him best, When he, in years of peace serene. Had loved them, and by them caress'd. 87 Then how he died with grief at last, Forgetting not the kindly hand That fed him — blest him in the past, And did his faithful love command. How he despaired, and pined away, Unmindful of the world and me; Poor Skye ! forgetful, where he lay. Of me and my fidelity ! TO AN EAGLE. f OARING aloft through the unsullied skies — Majestic eagle! on thy winged way; What is thy course, or what frail thing thy prey. Where thou dost court the sun's bright, lucid dyes. Sailing along above the world so high ? Oh ! stately bird, where thy historic name. Still proudly whispers of thy ancient fame. Piercing the vault above and cloudless sky — Noblest of birds, our nation honors thee. For thou art no mean, cringing, craving thing. So stately raising thy imperial wing. In token of our country's liberty ! Emblem of all that's truly noble — free, Unfettered and unchained by tyranny ! HOPE. She whose beloved and endearing lay ^ So often cheered me in my day of youth. Can never more conceal from me the truth. 88 With her false garb, nor my poor heart betray. I saw her smile, I listened to her song. Like music stealing on my ravished heart, Where she was of the happy past a part. And smiled in my young life my path along. But sunshine fled, joy faded, and the years Of early life pass'd like a dream away — Where she, vain, fleeting, like a summer day. As swiftly vanish'd, and in grief and tears. Oh, Hope! how flattering, how delusive given, To us poor mortals like a glimpse of Heaven. THE BIBLE. Dedicated to My Mother. iRJYYW. golden precept and with blessed print. And sacred teaching is all Holy Writ; Crowned with the perfect and eternal love Of the Creator and of God above , Author of every good and perfect thing That does enrapture and around us cling; The sacred volume and a priceless gem, More purely bright than earthly diadem. Inspired Book 1 where thought immaculate Is nurtured, purified — inviolate. Companion of the pure and of the good. Whether of life, in joy, or solitude! Scattering the flowers of promise at our feet, Of life to come, and of that blest retreat ; A signal to these bleeding hearts of ours. Of peace triumphant and perennial bowers, Where angels in those never fading skies, Unclasp their seraph wings in Paradise. 89 Oh! if a Book is worthy of our praise, 'Tis surely that — that tells of endless days ; Pictures a land beyond the silent tomb, A land of promise and perpetual bloom, Where the immortal and celestial shore Is promised to us and forever more. A Book of morals, and of virtue blest. Exalted and refined within the breast; The richest treasure literature can know. So purely chaste and where its blessings flow; Teacher of youth, and of those better years — Of blooming days and hope that mem'ry bears, Whose hallowed precepts to my youth were given> Engraved upon my soul by her in heaven. Where I shall yet my mother's love renew. Beyond life's joys, so fleeting and so few. The purest language and sublimest thought Is with the Bible and the Scripture fraught; Take it away — and what are we but brutes. Without intelligence — but silent mutes ; But with it we are cultured and refined, With nobler aspirations in the mind. Where grace and loveliness and virtue's plea Lives in the soul, and sinless purity; Where we with love, and music, and with song, The paths of truth tread happily along. 90 THE SABBATH DAY. ^HE sweetest, holiest day man ever knew; Oh! day of rest, of tranquil peace and love, When prayer before the blessed throne above Ascends to Him who doth creation view ; Toil ends — life's busy scene and anxious strife No longer vex the peaceful, quiet breast. Where the deep hush of holiness and rest Tell of the Sabbath day, and holier life ! The anthem chanted from the holy choir, Swells out upon the isle the note of praise, Where the sublime outburst of sacred lays, The soul with speechless rapture does inspire. How sweet to me past Sabbaths to repeat. Fraught with the hallowed church, the blest retreat. ADVERSITY. DVERSITY with ruthless march, and pale. That does the smiles of wealth and ease destroy. Where he, gay votary of earthly joy. In vain has listened to hope's syren tale. Smiling in plenty in serener days, A path of glittering fortune does he tread. Where earthly wealth her gifts around him spread. And she his busy cares and strife allays ; But disappointment with appalling blight. Changes the scene and preys on him at last. Where he deplores and weeps upon the past. And Hope from him has winged away her flight. Adversity ! like to a requiem lay, I, too, have felt thy desolating sway. 91 THE BATTLE. (HE roar of musketry is heard around, Where serried columns tread the battle plain, Where fall the wounded, and where lay the slain, ■Scattered like fallen leaves upon the ground ; The stirring drum and fierce artillery. Shall never wake them from their endless sleep, 'Twill take a sound more long, and loud, and deep, To call them from their dreamless lethargy. But din and clatter, and the shot and shell. Evince the fury of the awful fight, Where shouts of yelling soldiery affright The soul, and of the bloody battle tell. The last alternative, the bitter end Of worldly trouble, and of foe and friend. TO THE SHADE OF LAFAYETTE. PATRIOT ! clothed in a mantle bright. Espousing our just cause in days of gloom, Leaving thy hearthstone in a day of bloom, For us, and for a foreign land to fight. But no ! 'twas liberty that nerved thy heart. Where Washington had led our armies on. Where thou hadst with thy gallant, fearless form JBeat back the foeman with his shattered dart. Brave Lafayette ! immortal fame be thine, Thou art a child of glory and renown ; The stars and stripes in pride on thee look down. Kept in our hearts, and by a grateful clime — So long as love, or freedom shall endure. Sacred shall be thy name to us, and pure. 92 GENERAL LAFAYETTE. _MONG the illustrious dead who swell the long cata- logue of names that have shed a brilliant halo over our country, none is more glorious than that of Lafayette. His- tory does not furnish a more beautiful example of friendship- and patriotism on the part of a stranger than is developed in his case. This well-tried, skilful soldier and friend of free- dom, left his home, friends and wife to identify himself witb our troubles, and at a time when the success of our cause hung upon a slim basis. How brave, how noble, how generous ! His motives were pure and unselfish, and his patriotism and love of liberty beyond a doubt. The faithful friend of Washington and the companion of our early fathers, he never faltered, but marched on with them to- the bright goal of their hopes, and till the Stars and Stripes waved in triumphant glory over the whole land. His genius as a soldier was equaled only by the noble and generous impulses of his nature. He won the day, and shared the sufferings and the trials of noble sires who have bequeathed to us the priceless boon of freedom, and we look back upon their glorious past with feelings of admiration and praise. General Lafayette loved this country, and lived years here among those whom he honored and esteemed, and assisted in their struggle for liberty. He outlived many and saw- many to whom he was deeply attached go down to the grave. His last farewell came amid the plaudits of a generous and grateful people as they bid him good-by, and the ocean- bore him to the land of his fathers. Before he left our shores forever, he visited the grave of his honored friend, Washington, and shed a parting tear over the green sod and last resting place of the immortal dead. The stillness of that hour was broken only by the sigh of the zephyr as the de- 93 parting patriot recounted the pleasant hours he had spent with his buried friend. His heart beat in grateful sorrow at the recollection of the friendship that united their hearts together, and where he thought of the first days of battle — the scene of his fame and renown — and where he bore away with him the love and affection, not only of Washing- ton, but the whole American people. Surely some suitable memorial should be erected to the memory of such a man as Lafayette ! Not only to perpetuate his private virtues, but as a monument to his patriotism, and as a reward to him for the valuable services that he rendered this country. CHRISTMAS. ^RIGHT, happy, merry is the face of youth ! 'Tis Christmas, and the sound of mirth is near; All hearts are steeped in joy, and where they wear The garb of happiness and peace and truth. Auspicious morn ! — a Saviour's hallowed birth It ushers in, in happiness and joy; Where we the fleeting moments now employ. Commemorate the bless'd event of earth. His resurrection and his birth and death Is filled with mystery' and sublimer thought; Where with divinity and God is fraught The life of Christ, tho' fleeting be his breath ; The Lamb of God, who for a fallen race Suffered and died, and with angelic grace. 94 MUSIC. To Professor Hahn. ^ShERE'S music everywhere— the earth and sky (B^ Is filled with sounds of sweetest melody, From the great utterance of the Deity Down to the zephyr and its gentle sigh. Nature's great anthem is the roaring sea, Dashing in her tempestuous course along ; There is diviner music in her song, Terrific and as wild as she can be. Even the sea bird with the lay she sings. Has an alluring charm around us cast. Mingling her pensive notes amid the blast, Where darkness reigns and gloom around us clings; There is a pleasure and a pleasing power Felt in the ocean and at such an hour. THE MUSIC OF HOME. To Tillie. jHE sweetest music ever heard on earth, Is heard where no discordant sound is known ; Where love, her heavenly smile has on us thrown, And we are steeped in dreams of joy and mirth; Where wedded life asserts its tranquil sway, A little while within this world of ours. To dissipate our care and gloomy hours ; Where happiness and peace around us plays; Where the sweet hymns of home forever blest, Linger around us like the dreams of sleep; Where we within the soul our treasures keep, And clasp them closer to the languid breast. Oh, guard them, love them, keep them in your heart. Sacred to you, and of the soul a part ! 95 TO A WILD ROSE. ^l^AIR rose that blossoms in the rugged bower, Uncared for and unsung and little known, I hail thy smiling tints around me thrown, Though thou art but a frail, brief, fleeting flower ; Thou'rt like the sons of worth that tread along A humbler path devoid of pride and show. Retired from the world's base haunts of woe, And where they sing home's happy, peaceful song ; The cheek may flush with riot and excess, And evil pleasure gild the worldling's way — But hapless is his doom, oh, wretched day! Bitter to him, at last, his fancied bliss. A virtuous life is like the stainless flower. Forever pure, and to life's latest hour. SORROW. ^AIL, sable mistress of uncheered despair! I, trembling, bow to thy decree and weep. Where I deplore the joys that memory keep When blooming youth and health were rriine and near. Oh ! sorrow chills the genial warmth and glow That sheds a sunshine o'er the joyous heart, And where she bids our fairest hopes depart Sweeping away the peace that we may know ; Where wealth and ease come smiling like a rose. And where in bliss our careless moments roll — She throws a pall upon the buoyant soul And is the harbinger of ceaseless woes ; Deprived of fortune and her smiling ray We doubly feel affliction's keener sway. 96 TO LAURA. §0 in thy youth, beloved girl, to God, Now while the flowers of earliest bloom are thine, While thy bright stars unclouded on thee shine, And where thou hast a better pathway trod ; Where they in earliest childhood life had been Nurtured amid the paths of piety. Where blest day-dreams of immortality Has made the world to thee a happy scene — So thou art fair, and like a blushing rose, Unsullied and untouched by cankering blight; Go then — go in thy years of promise bright To him, the healing of all earthy woes; There's not a sorrow that the heart can know. But what he cures, and every bitter woe. THE THRUSH. iHE Thrush is one of the most melodious birds known to our latitude. He has a fine, clear, distinct, thrilling voice and is the sweetest warbler heard within the woods. To be once heard, he is never to be forgotten. The sprightly songster makes his appearance about the first of June. His favorite haunt is the lofty tree, where he can sing away to his heart's content, and make the welkin ring with his charming echo. Melodious thrush ! — the blooming season brings The pleasant sunshine back to you and me. Oh ! where I hear thy echoed melody. And joy and gaiety is on the wing. 97 I seem to hear within thy tuneful lay The thrilling anthem of some blessed choir. Thou hast a charm for my desponding lyre, More doubly dear then feeble words can say. Hail, bird of promise to the woody grove ! Where thou art perching in the giant tree — Oh ! welcome now to summer and to me, Singing above the meadow and in love. Melodious thrush ! — O let me hear again In ecstasy thy deep-toned echoed strain. MARY. • ^JJI i'ARY is one of the most famous names upon the page c-f\C{5^ of history. It has been descanted on by the his- torian. The painter has delineated her loveliness and beauty upon the canvass. The inspired sculptor has given to her grace, animation and life, and the poet especially, above all •others, has sung her charms. Mary was the mother of our Saviour, one of the best, purest and holiest of women; then Mary Queen of Scotts; the two Mary's referred to in Holy Writ, and Burns' Highland Mary, so famous in song, and Tvhom he loved so dearly and was devoted to ; and then Byron. He, too, has paid homage at her shrine, and added his tribute of praise to her worth. Others have extolled the name, and where Mary has been their favorite heroine, where they have lavished their verse and song upon her, and given celebrity to the name after she passed down to the grave. Suffice it to add that the intellectual world has admired the name ; and where Mary has been the recipient •of the favor of all the Muses, of education, science and 98 genius. The most sublime, holy and sacred thoughts have been offered up to her, and the sweetest songs ever com- posed have been inscribed to Mary. The intellectual world has spread A halo o'er the storied dead, Where Mary — name beloved of old — Is now on history's page enrolled ; Wherever art or science bears Us back to past historic years, She glows with a peculiar grace And has in fame a brilliant place, On monumental stone inscribed, In loveliness, renown and pride. Antiquity repeats the name, Allied to everlasting fame; Where Mary — best of womankind — Within the Christian soul enshrined, Tells how a blessed Saviour came To save a world from endless shame. Oh, Mary ! — ever pure and blest A sacred name within the breast, Eternal now, and part of thee, Mary, is thy celebrity ! The well-earned meed of praise she owes To sculptor, who around her throws A glow of intellectual thought, With his inspired chisel fraught ; Where be perpetuates her fame In marble, and her deathless name Eternal beauty to her gives, Where she within his fancy lives. 99 Where poet does the name admire That fills him with poetic fire ; Oh ! where he showers at her feet His gifts, and does her praise repeat, He kneeling at fair beauty's shrine ; Where violets his soul entwine Of admiration and of love, And where he does his worship prove. Where Burns' Highland Mary lies Beneath old Scotia's sunny skies, He sings of her illustrious name And whispers of her spotless fame ; Where she awoke his youthful lyre And did his soul with love inspire ; Where she in fields of blooming green His fond companion once had been. His youthful choice, his early flame. He cherished to his death the same ; Where the distinguished bard bestowed On her his verse and flattering ode. Music has echoed with the sound And breathed the heavenly name around ; Where strange romance and thrilling song Does to that ancient name belong ; Where legends, too, have to us told The fearful trials she bore of old ; Where Mary suffered in the past The dungeon and the block at last ; Where persecution had destroyed The few brief days that she enjoyed. 100 POVERTY. tH, poverty ! within thy gloomy cell No sunshine enters to enliven thee ; Where Hope's bright traces can no longer be Thy welcome guest — no more with thee to dwell ; Thy cheerless mien and thy dejected eye No flowery beds of ease can ever know ; Thy heritage is sorrow, grief and woe. Lonely and sad, beneath an adverse sky, Tho' piety and meek content be thine. And purity an inmate of the breast — Tho' pure submission's sacred hymn, and blest, Ascends to God's bright, hallowed throne on high, Thy trembling brow and sunken cheek, so pale. Tells us again of thy unheeded tale. HEAVEN. To Ethel. tH ! blessed, courted, long desired place, Where peace is promised to the soul at last ; Oh ! heavenly goal, where life's dark view is pass'd, How sweet is God's forgiving smile and grace. Propitious nymph of poetry and blest. On me with all thy healing power descend ; Let me, with fancy live, with her ascend To lands of endless joy and fadeless rest. I sing of a celestial home on high. Beyond these scenes of frail mortality; Tho' we know little of eternity — Frail, puny things, created but to die. lOI Yet let me breathe the praise of Deity, And sing of wreaths of never fading bloom, Promised to us beyond a world of gloom — Hope of the Christian and his dying plea. We may not know, within this world of ours. The untold glory of the better land ; Where angels rest upon that golden strand, Unclasp their wings and soar through sinless bowers; Yet we can dream of their unfading bliss, Of brighter seasons, of perennial bloom. Where, freed from earth and the unhallowed tomb. The sainted dead rest from a world like this. Think of the happy and the good, who dwell Upon that peaceful and serener shore, Where endless summer smiles forever more, More lovely far than mortal tongue can tell. The mother and the father and the wife, The sister, brother and the little child. Freed from a world of bitter care and strife, Where God in mercy has upon them smiled. The world may darken, and may frown away Our brighter prospects and our happier hours ; But there there's no such thing as dying flowers. No darkling cloud, nor storm, nor wintry day. 102 FORGIVENESS. To Ellen. ^^VwE should forgive our bitterest enemy,