&» PS 2434 M7 Copy 1 S^- #LIBRARY OF CONGRESS, f # # f [SMITHSONIAN DEPOSIT.] J # Page. Song of the Deceived Maiden, .... lOO Thoughts on Leaving Homo, - - - - 101 The Charms of Winter, - 102 Ode for a S. S. Rural Celebration, . - - i05 To a Miniature of the Departed, - - - - 107 The Impulsive INIaiden, ----- i08 On the Sudden Death of Miss E. F. P. - - - 110 The Escape from Fire, - - - - - 112 Avarice, its Influence on the Heart, - - - 113 Jerusha Carter, and her Chosen Flower, - - 115 Slanderers, - - - - - - - -IK! Diversity of Opinion and Independence of Tliought, 1 1 7 Three Cheers and Away, - - - - - 121 The Gay Mourner, 122 Reflections of the Inebriate in Prison, - - - 124 Charge for the Battle, 127 Voices in the Grove, - - - - - - 125) Scandal, a Trade, 132 On the Death of a Sister, 1 34 Farewell to Friends and Home, - - - - 13G On the Death of Miss E. M. S., - - - -137 Uncertainty of Happiness, ----- 13!> Bird Killers, - 141 To the Hutchinson Family, - - - - 142 The Welcome Messenger at Sea, - - - - 143 The Spirit Voice to the Inebriate, - - - 144 Habit, .145 Grief, 147 The Learned Pig, 148 Tolanthe, loO Page Beautiful Trees, 15] To a Gay Young Friend, - - - - -152 Pleasant Visits : or, Kate and Lilla, - - -153 To a Friend Going from Home, - - - - 1G6 Song of the Robin, at Daybreak, - - - - 1G7 AVaiting to Die, - - - - - - -168 The Bachelor's Excuse and Regret, - - - 170 The Bachelor's Reply to " Somebody," - - 172 Fall of the Pavillion at Portsmouth, - - - 1 74 To the Old Brick Market-House, - - - 176 On the Fine Arts, 177 King Alcohol to his Associates, - - - - 180 Selfishness, -- 182 Defamers of Character, - . . . . i84 Again is Summer Here, 186 On Riches, - - 188 Passing Away, - - - - - - -190 r 11 E F A C E . Ix presenting Leisure Thoughts to the public eye, the author is not so visionary or void of ordinary discern- ment, in this age of accomplished authors and countless books, as to hope or dream of fame or pecuniary favor in connection with liis pen. It was at the suggestion of disinterested friends that he first conceived the idea of collecting some of his prose and verse pieces, and presenting them in the form of a book. He entertains, however, the common belief that while on life's active stage, every one — according to the means in his possession — is under moral obligation to do what he can in the cause of humanity and the general welfare of society. He is not unmindful of the fact that ability does not always accompany zeal, however honest and warm ; and therefore should be prepared for any un- pleasant consequences which might fall upon one who voluntarily placed himself within the influence of tlic public gaze. He trusts that he will not be accused of great vanity, in expressing a hope that the contents of this volume may be of some trifling benefit to many hearts, au'l of in- jury to none. To the unprejudiced and unbiased reader, the nature of the subjects generally chosen and the candid manner of expressing his ideas, may in some measure atone for deficiency of elegance in diction, and other palpable Im- perfections which may be found upon these pages. The whole book is the production of detached mo- ments of time — as a relaxation from the study and per- plexities of the jirofession of music, and from some degree of self-satisfaction in " Tolling a tale, or singing a song, In praise of the right — in blame of the wrong." Should it be possible for a just and generous critic to deem such a book worth his perusal, the author would, from the critic's view of human nature, and the circum- stances connected with this volume, willingly trust the work to his generosity. If, by the stern discipline of life's perpetual vicissi- tudes — with advantages that fortune has only bestowed with parsimonious hand upon the author — he has been successful in expressing a single thought or sentence worthy of preservation, may the sentiment be treasured in lasting and generous memory, according to its intrin- sic merit. To the friends and pupils of the ivriler, is this voluii)'; nffectionalely inscribed. FREEDOM OF THOUGHT. Thoughts cannot be chained. They will ever soar on freedom's wide spread wings — mocking all human re- strictions. Thoughts are the miiul, which is not only free in its nature, but also indestructible : all else may be imprisoned, may perish. Mind, in its true bearing, par- takes of the divine essence ; and pure thoughts are the odoriferous drops of that essence. But while flesh and blood, and sinews and fibres, arc the mediums through which this subtle and mysterious agent is permitted to exercise its prerogative, it is in vain to look for perfection. The soul has ever challenged the deepest learning and genius to interpret its m3Stic pages. Finite research here grows weary, and earthly greatness is forced with childlike humility to give up the effort as hopeless, while still the undefined spirit is more or less deified, or regard- ed with care and solicitude, wherever its si^ificant banner is unfurled. Intelligent thoughts made known through the music of words, demand an existence, wherever in life's atmosphere man is found. And those thoughts that spring out of the fountains of charity, benevolence and love, have a pass- port from the Eternal One, to roam the yndc world over. "Words uttered by tongues famihar with the most correct and elegant language, do not always express the deepest, strongest and truest feelings. 10 Kings and princes, priests and statesmen may some- times think meanly and ivickedly. Those who bask in the sunshine of opulence and are overwhelmed with means for acquiring knowledge, may deem it condescen- sion to listen to music dropping from harps attuned in the solitude of penury, or otherwise in the shades of obscurity. But Nature is true to herself, and neither conventional forms, nor aristocracy of learning or lineage can successfully quench or confine the free-bom soul. It is true that coarse, ignorant and imbecile minds cannot think well ; and it is equally true that titled no- bility and speculative minds have often erred, and may err in thinking. But the soul true to itself yearns for light, that it may see God, nature, man and all things as they really are. Modesty is a lovely maiden of balmy breath, but she should not mistake her true mission by consigning the " winged thoughts" to silence and obscurity, destined to go forth as help-lights on life's dreary ocean. Neither should egotism, or vanity of hateful visage, be allowed so to intoxicate the fancy, that the weak and puerile shall appear strong and noble — the distorted, beautiful — the false, truthful. God, Nature, Truth ! — glorious watchwords for mortal oonsideration. 11 PREJUDICE. Fire, famine, and the reeking sword That sweep with dismal moan and blasting sway O'er earth and sea, come not in tones so harsh. So keen and terrible, to greet my ear. As that ungracious, drear, and chilling sound That speaks the blighting name oi Prejudice. Ah, how this prowling fiend is wont to grin, And shake his haughty head, when he beholds Upon life's ocean tossed, the thousand wrecks. Made by his cruel blast. — How many fall — Alas, too soon ! to rise no more ! How many worthy hearts have felt fiill deep The cold, relentless thrust of Prejudice — And pined away beneath the tyrant's power, The hapless children of a frowning world — Unknown, unsung, unwept ! Shame on thy foul and adamantine heart, And scorned be him who pleads thy vicious part, Thou heartless master, 'neath Avhose pliant rod So many bend the knee, and yield a nod ! Why do we bow to thy behest. Dark image of malignant breast ? Thou creepest like a serpent to beguile, And willing hearts quaff down thy treacherous smile ; And oh ! who feel thy cold and blighting breath, As well might sleep in the embrace of death ! 12 For life's a wilderness of pain, Where Prejudice is wont to reign. How sball we find reward for noble deed, If surly Prejudice be not agreed ? — "WTiat skilful hand can bid the slumbering lyre Awake, and breathe with all its wonted fire, When this rude personage is nigh,. Detractor, of a jealous eye ? Oh, come not near me with thj^ traitor kiss-, I hate thy visage, gi-een-eyed Prejudice ,' Headlong adown the cliff" of deep despair I'd hurl thee, heedless of thy struggling prayer : For earth is tainted with thy breath Thou pale-faced fiend of woe and death. WINTER MUSINGS- " Ye favor'd ones=, " Whom pleasure, power, affluence surround — " Ye little think how many feel " This very moment death, and all the sad " Varieties of pain. How many drink " The cup of baleful grief, or eat the bitter bread " Of misery. Sore pierc'd by wintry winds " How many shrink into the sordid hut " Of cheerless poverty." O AVHERE has fled the Summer With her gems of beauty ? Have the whisp'ring 13 Zephyrs breathed her farewell song ? The " thousand Minstrels of the sky" — have they forsook us ? 'Twas but yesterday the dewy roses In our pathway lingered, scat'ring fragrant Incense all around. Gay birds, in number Countless, 'mid the leafy bowers, with " harpstringsl Tuned," swell'd liigh their gladsome notes. And merry Insects, hurrJ^ng forth from flower to flower. Were seen. But now — ah me ! a change hath come — 'Tis Winter ; and all nature once more groans In icy fetters. Cold winds sweep along O'er snow-clad hills and stiffened lakes — And leafless trees touch'd by the chilling blast, In sadness murmur. Hark ! — now comes the gale. My lonely cot, lash'd by the tempest nide, Is rocking. Madly drives the stiffling snow Against my casement frail. The pelting storm, (Though I am sheltered from its angry touch,) Salutes me with its dreamy music. Ah, Methinks, amid the warring elements, I hear deep notes of woe ! In her abode Firm held in Poverty's Herculean grasp. The widow yields to tears of keen distress, ^\^lile children hungry by her side Look up to her for sustenance. Alas ! No " Hoicard" comes, — she breathes her mournful wail. And on the swift wings of the wintry wind, Her cries for help go forth. 2* 14 Tlie beggar girl, With haggard features, ragged and forlorn^ Urged through the drifted snows by penury And want, finds few to pity her distress-. Half perished, and dejected she returns To taste at Tiome, the pang cf grief more keen. The careworn Father, lone and friendless, sick, On matted straw, listening in vain to hear Tlie footsteps of some minister of love, Breathes to his God a prayer, and thea expires. Upon life's troubled ocean is abroad, With tearfal eye, and pallid cheek. The Orphan boy. His frail bark, to and fro, By each rude gale is toss'd. No friendly sail Is seen — he feels his loneliness — makes one Last effort to outbrave the blasting storm: — But in his striving — sinks.- The injured vtife, Whose husband courts the flaming, murderous bowf. Sits trembling by her gloomy fire, till tolls The midnight bell, to gain by industry Severe, a scanty meal. With iron grasp, and visage wry, Rude Winter comes upon the poor ; And 'neath his keen lash many die, While seeking aid from door to doop. Think then, in pity, ye who feel No pang of hunger, or of cold ; 0, raise a generous hand, and heal The heai't that must its grief unfold. 15 DISAPPOINTMENT. I've quaflPd of disappointment's turbid streams, From the first breathing of my infant dreams ; E'en to the shade and ills of manhood's hour, I've felt the pressure of its blighting power. I never loved a gem in childhood's sunny day, That disappointment did not snatch away ; The sweetest plajTnate of my infant glee, Was first to sink in death's unfathom'd sea. Oft have I roam'd the summer woods among, To cull the flowers which there in beauty hung ; Grasping the lily — or such fragile thing, Surprised I've felt the lurking bee's rude sting. With tiny voice I've made the green bowers ring When I have caught some bird I thought would sing; But e'er my minstrel tuned for me its lyre, Encaged, I saw the innocent expire. To manly eye, such crosses little seem — But to the child it is not all a dream ; Still, o'er life's sea, glides reckless on, his bark, Till rocks unseen doom ber to regions dark. W^ith yearning hope I left my native home 'Mid southern bowers, and breezes bland to roam ; — O'er hill and dell, with eager feet I hied, To meet one heart wherein I might confide. 16 But e'er I reach'd the distant sighed for spot, The brow I sought was cold, in clayey cot ; The ' Archer grim' had sprung the fatal bow, And 'neath the cypress laid my brother low. Such, such is disappointmerd — with rude sting, Piercing, and mocking — ever on the wing ; Who feels him least, perchance may merriest be, — But boasting 's vain on life's uncertain sea. The ' Spoiler' wears a thousand forms each day, And comes severest to those hearts most gay ; — Oft has he bid my soul's rejoicing hush, But never quite, this spirit could he crush. Oh no, — ' sweet Hope,' with soothing voice comes near, Dispels the canker, fills the breast with cheer ; — Points upward to a City, free from care, — No sting of disappointment poisons there. REMORSE, OR THE MURDERER IN HI3 CELL. Suggested on conversing with an intelligent prisoner about to expiate his crime on the gallows, in Cincinnati. Phantoms of ebon wing, away — Taunt me no more, ye fiends of flaming eye — Hence — leave me but one hour in peace — leave me. I awake — the dream is past — 'tis all too late, — With me 'tis finished — I am lost. 17 Irreparably lost ! — Why then reflect ? — Can water sprinkled on the parched earth Be gathered up ! — old age return to youth ! — Ripe fruit to green ! — Then why reflect ? But yet a brute may think, — shall 7nan do less ? — O come, Remorse, with sting relentless, come — Probe deep — and deeper still this stricken heart, — Plunge home, spare not the recreant slave '^^^lO would not heed a mother's love, A father's counsel, — friends advice ; spare not '. 'Tis meet, I quaff thus deep from bitter cup ; But e'er within this arm of murderous nerve The burning pulse shall cease to throb, my heart Must breathe its lone, last, burning lay. This aching brow, and haggard form, — A wreck exposed to blasting storm, AVas wont the smiles of peace to wear — Xor dreamed of foundering in despair. A favored child, with parents dear, "Where Affluence her temples rear, I tuned my earliest notes of joy ^ — My mother's pride — a happy boy. Amid the bowers of classic lore. Where gems are found, of valued store, Have I, with studious heart, reclined To shape and beautify the mind- Pictures of light and life were there — Drawn out with skill and beauty rare, By spirits looking from above — Yet I disdain'd their pens of love. 18 Bright summer wreaths hung graceful round — And music's captivating sound, Upon the fragrant evening air, Was wont to linger sweetly there. But ah ! those scenes — where are they now ? And where those lips that pressed this brow ! My mother, father, sister dear, And brother — oh ! would they were here. No, no — I would not have them here — From kindred eye shall gush no tear ; And none shall sigh for guilt of mine ; Unpitied, here will I repine. I would not list to warning voice. But made the ' ruby wine' my choice ; I quaflfd from cup that seal'd my doom ! — From stream which leads to charnel tomb. With smiling eye and costly sheen. When all seem'd beauteous and serene, The tempter came, and promis'd bliss — I did embrace — 'twas fatal kiss. Now here, these dreary walls within, I'm shut from light, for foulest sin, — A murderer ! and my gloomy fate, ■ In keenest agony await. My wandering spirit backward flies. And views the past with racking sighs ; Oh ! that I could return again. To hours my bosom wore no stain : 19 I'd shun the sparkling, fatal bowl, Where adders lurk to sting the soul ; Would woo fair Virtue, drink her breath, Nor cease to love her, e'en till death. TO MY FLUTE. Dear Flute, — companion of my youth, — Source of delight, from treachery clear ; Rest by my side, fair child of truth, Nought shall molest thee while I'm near. With fond eyes let me gaze on thee. My true, my long-tried, faithful friend ; By all should I forsaken be. My Flute a cheering voice will lend. If sorrow sometimes wounds my heart. While floating o'er •' life's troubled sea," Thy liquid tones can heal the smart, Thy " melting murmurs" comfort me. The woods in my own native land. Have echoed back, " My Heart and Lute ;" As oft by summer breezes fan'd I've sat, communing with my Flute. I've roam'd o'er ocean-wave with thee, When lightnings flashed, and all was drear : And there — e'en on the foaming sea, Thy silvery tones were doubly dear. 20 In orange groves, and spicy bowers, With thee I've lingered, gentle Flute ; Drank the pure breath of " honied flowers," Where all, save birds and thee, was mute. O, I have prov'd thee every where, A soothing, ever constant friend ; — Yet, 'mid earth's scenes of noise and care, How few their lone hours with thee spend. When from this tenement so frail, Shall soar my spirit far away ; Could'st thou, dear Flute, my loss bewail, Methinks thoud'st weep each lonely day. Oh, cease to breathe of spirits fled, That lov'd thy " stilly night," to hear ; My thoughts will wander with the dead. Those spirits to my heart so dear.* But look not sad, oh, magic Flute ! Though importuned to hush awhile ; I could not wish thee long be mute. When thou can'st raise the cheerful smile. Then, " Dorian Flute," thine aid impart, To dry thy master's tearful eye ; Lend inspiration to his heart. Dispel each fear and painful sigh. *My two only brothers. 21 MORNING IN SUMMER. " Sleeper coine forih^ the Sun is up. Awake ! arise ! the morning dawns, O'er glassy lakes, and on the velvet lawns ; — No longer sleep, " the hills are bathed in gold," And warbling birds their happy tales unfold. The Shepherd's up, and sings in joyful strains, ^Vhile, with his flock, he hies o'er grassy plains. The verdant hills and valleys glow with life. And waving trees are all with beauty rife. The dreaming flowers are breathing on the air, And those who will may quaff their fragrance rare. On golden wings comes in the blushing morn, While zephyrs soft play through the waving corn. The feathered minstrels soar on airy wing. With harp-strings tuned, and sweetly do they sing. There's health in every breeze, — the morn is fair, Up and go forth to taste the balmy air ! Dream if thou must, upon the languid bed. Then rise and ffif/h that dewy morn has fled. Sleep if thou wilt, and dose away thine hours, I'll to the fields, and sip the breath of flowers. 3 22 THE MOTHER, FOR HER LOST ONE. During a long passage up tlie Mississippi river, in the spring of 1838, many passengers on board the steamboat were taken sick with small pox ; and among the deaths was a beautiful child, whose young mother was obliged to have it torn from her and buried in a rough box near the side of a hill on the banks of the river near St. Louis. Fancy heard her tones of grief, thus : There is a mound beside yon hill, And 'neath its steady gloom My darling boy is cold and still, In his dark narrow tomb. The song-birds chant a requiem by, Where sleeps the infant one ; And voices oft-times whisper nigh, " He was her idol son." No more can smile the happy boy, Upon his mother's knee ; No more his little heart will joy. Earth's flow'rets bright to see. Thou knoVst, oh Father kind, above, How keen the pangs I bear ; To lose the jewel of my love. And treasure of my care. My heart must breathe its burning grief, For the stellar gem that's fled. \^Tiere may I seek and find relief, Now my sweet boy is dead ? 23 Yes, near the side of yon dark hill, Slumbers my blue-eyed dove. I earnest hope, I earnest pray, To meet mine o^vn above. pp:nitence of an austere husband. Wert thou to deem me stern. How could I blame ? From thee my face I turn, 'Tis fill'd with shame. So kind to me thou art, Forbearing too ; Oh ! what a cruel heart — This heart to you. I've caused thee days of pain By word and deed ; Thus my own heart I've slain, I feel it bleed. My lov'd one, bid me live ! Say not depart ; But oh ! once more forgive This errinjj heart. 24 SYMPATHY. Arts glittering domes and towers must fall. Gay cities crumble with the dead ; All things must yield to Time's stern call. Thus the Omnipotent hath said. But mark the sympathetic breast, That melts when misery's sons are nigh ; In golden palace with the blest His name shall brightly shine on higk. TO A VIOLET, PRESENTED BY A LAD-Y, Gem from the mountain side,. Fade not too soon away j Unfold thy petals wide, And lend a cheering ray. Live for the maiden fair, Who bade me cherish thee ; Her of the silken hair, Of spirit blithe and free. Bright flow'ret of the vale. With face of azure smile ; I list thy pleasant tale, Thy language hath no guile. 25 The friend of gentle heart, Who cuU'd thee for my view, May far away depart To clime she never knew ; But I'll not deem it wrong To string my cheerful lyre. And bid my harp prolong Her praise on every wire. Gem from the mountain side. Droop not too soon away ; Unfold thy beauties wide. And smile with me to-day. TO lANZA. Say not, lanza, it is rude in me. To gaze so oft with eyes intent on thee. On thy fair brow, oh, give not frowns a place ! Why blight the orbs that beam upon thy face ? I learn'd the lesson on my mother's knee. To prize whate'er is beautiful to see. I've sought bright orange groves and myrtle bowers. Amid whose charms I've dream'd away sweet home. I've watch'd the bright rose spread its petals fair. And quafPd its incense with the balmy air ; I've roam'd the blossom'd woods, through verdant lawn, To breathe among the flowers at early dawn. 3* 26 And I would ask, lanza, if 'tis wrong, When nature smiles, to breathe her praise in song ? Say, if before me charming objects rise And I admire, should I be deem'd unwise ? BOOKS. What are books but the embodiment of ideas — the registered thoughts of men, regarding past, present, and future time, circumstance, and things connected with life, death, and immortality ? Some books, like some men, are of inestimable value ; while others, on the con- trary, are but the emissaries of evil, calculated only to tarnish and destroy the symmetry of the world's physical and moral beauty. To discriminate between the two classes and place a proper value where it rightly belongs, is not a difficult task. Perhaps it were better never read at all, than read without discrimination. He will stand as an " unmoved rock," who shall, with intelligent pen, appeal to the best feelings of the heart; whose chosen themes shall be the beautiful in nature and the attributes of nature's God. Fearless may be the pen which courts the fair goddess Truth, though that pen be not moistened with the fluid of deepest learning, or wear the magic of wealth or fame. 27 THE RURAL PIC-NIC Being one of the party I thus tuned my harp in the Sagamore woods. The hour we had sighed for, to meet in the grove, Dawned on us with beautiful smile ; And many were dreaming, soon thither to rove, To dispel gloomy care for awhile. The light fleecy clouds high up o'er the earth, Floated gaily along the blue sky ; And the soft breathing zephyrs just summoned to birth, From the westward came playfully by. The birds were attuning their harps in the shade. Of the tangled and sweet perfumed wood ; And the lamb and its yew were at play in the glade, Near the spot where the feast table* stood. Fine coaches were out on the innocent race, With steeds gaily haruess'd by fours ; And merrily on, for the " Sagamore Place," Joyous bosoms were gliding by scores. But not in delusion, going thither to die 'Neath a Juggernaut'' s merciless wheel ; — 'Tis Temperance they follow, with bright, eager eye ; At the shrine oithis genius they kneel. *Pic-Nic table. 28 They enter with song of delight, the green bower Near the banks of the bright Sagamore, And tall waving pines, and the wild running flower, Such a gathering ne'er witness'd before. Beneath the cool shade of the high, festoon'd trees, The loaded feast table stands by ; And fann'd by the summer's delectable breeze. Are the happy hearts, lingering nigh. On the moss-covered rock, where the savage once trod With the tomahawk grasp'd in his hand, Stands the orator firm in the name of his God, Proclaiming good news in the land. The old woods that once shook to the Indian's rude tramp And re-echoed the dismal war-cry — Now joyfully wave o'er the peacemaker's camp, For the Savage and Rum are not nigh. Sweet voices are blended of maiden and swain, And matron, and stranger, in song; While the woods sweetly echo the notes back again. And thus the sweet music prolong. The gay smiling damsels of volatile air, And eyes beaming clear as the sun, Are seeking bright flow'rets to bind in their hair. E'er the banquet is broken and done. Come husband and lady, come belle and come beau, Flies a voice through the green wood along ; Oh come, — partake freely, — then homeward we'll go. Singing gaily a temperance song. 29 Here's refreshment spread out by the delicate hand, And also, the purest of ale * — Around tlic fix'd table united we'll stand, And sup, in the soft summer gale. The repast is over — and filled is each heart With friendship, and love and delight — No rude bacchanalian enacted a part In the scene so enchanting and bright. LIFE Our first free breath is but a sign Of ills soon to o'ertake us ; And tliough the sun may sometimes shinc- The storms of life will shake us. Our pulse is but the muffled sound Of a fixed clock within. Whose wheels oft cease to move around E'er one has learnt to sin. Those tones the infant voice first made, Did but betoken sorrow ; For oh ! our sunny hopes may fade 'Neath gloomy skies to-morrow. *Cold Water. 30 The first light step of infant glee Begins a journey drear ; Each stride leads to a dismal sea That all must view with fear. The first shrill laugh of buoyant youth, A signal is for tears ; All hearts must learn the cheerless truth, That pain comes with our years. The hopeful heart that yields to love, In grief may learn to know Affection truest shines above ! We may not trust below. Tlie man that yearns for shining gold, Sighs only for a rock, Whereon his bark of slender mould, May stiike with fatal shock. And him who seeks the path of fame Will find it barren soil ; What is there in a burning name, To pay for years of toil ? Life — oh, how subtle is the tide, That sweeps along our bark ; Oft are we rock'd from side to side Then sink we in the dark. Why court the pleasures of the gay. When life's so brief a span ? Go stand beside the dead and say, To this was born frail man. 31 ON VIEWING THE GREAT COMET OF 1843. 'Tis night — keen, frosty night. Nature is chill'd to silence in the grasp, The blighting grasp of haggard Winter. All Is drear and solemn as the sable tomb. But scenes so cheerless I will now forget, And heavenward lift my eyes, and turn my thoughts. There I behold ten thousand sparkling gems, Each in itself a world unknown, sublime ; And swift almost as mystic thoughts, they fly : Fly on and on, through space unmeasurable, save By Him that drew, with his own Finger, each And every pathway in whose round exact Must run those golden orbs. But now my eager eyes Are fixed on one amid the burning train, Beneath whose light, faint hearts are wont to (juail. And at wliose coming, science wakes anew. My soul with wonder startles while I ask Whence came thou, Stranger ? — whither tendest thou ? I cannot move — thy glory chains me fast ; But while on earth the sinewy temple stands. The soul steals out and upward wings its way To learn thy path and destiny. Oh! say Celestial stranger on swifl wings of fire. What is thy mission ? shall we joy or fear ? 32 With all thy flashing in yon high blue arch ; Throughout thy blazing course, what holds thee up ? What saves us from thy heated vapor ? Who, Who holds thee on thy track, wild flaming star, And bids thee come not near this ball terrestrial ? No more I ask — Methinks I hear of harmony a strain Like " music of the spheres," and as it floats Along, my willing ears catch up the sound. It is a " still small voice" like that which Grod Is breathing ever to the sons of men : And I perceive how oceans lash the shore Within a given bound : how planets move In harmony together through the sky : Why these eccentric wanderers on high That show long trains of wondrous light — why they With all their sister orbs, dare not o'erleap The mark of law divine. Oh, why should fear Come o'er a heart that owns a Power Supreme ? Why talk oi mystery'? — where God is known. At once this theme is solved. Blot from the page Of faith His name, whose impress all things wear, And oh ! how drear our wanderings below ! 33 TIIEY TELL ME SO. They tell me she is soon to be Another's happy bride ; That with the city's giddy throng, Gaily she's wont to dance along, O'er life's unruffled tide. They say that her dilating eye. Of cffre breathes not a ray. Her cheek with beauty still is rife, And all around her light and life : I heed not all they say. There was a footstep once she mark'd With warm and joyous heart ; A name that lingered on her ear, Like tones of music sweetly clear, Unwilling to depart. That step is wont to trace the glade Where erst we used to stray, I gaze around the favorite bower, But cannot see the genial flower That lit my lonely way. Methinks I see the bridal gems Now ready by her side ; And soon, in dazzling sheen, she'll stand With sparkling jewels on her hand. The peerless — perjured bride. 4 34 But where will mem'ry take her then ? Back to the gloomy past ; Sad whisperings will greet her ear, Of future pictures dark and drear, And sorrow to the last. THE ANONYMOUS LETTER. Adders and asps are what they are : il/an is a meaner and more deadly thing "When lie forgets the truth — and sneakingly Sends venom to his neighbor's heart. The foul winged messenger of surly face Darts forth to stamp on some pure brow disgrace, Too modest for its author's name to bring, But not too vile with siren voice to sing. It comes, with demon voice, to fill the ear With dark, delusive tales — with stories drear : It weaves a strain more doleful than the knell Of hollow voices bidding earth farewell. It comes with graceful bow and studied smile, — Deception in its form, and rife with guile ; Snatched out of hades, and by demons thrown To fire the bowers where friendship long has grown. Robed in disguise, it hastens to unfold False tales and dark, as none hut fiends have told ; Tales basely penned at hateful gossips^ will. Whose deepest study is, how they shall kill. 35 ON MUSIC. " The man that hath not music in himself, Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds, Is fit for treasons, stratagems and spoils ; The motions of his spirit are dull as night, And his affections dark as Erebus; Let no such man be trusted." — Shakspert. Whex the Almighty fiat went forth, "let there be light," Music was baptized the child of heaven. The glowing stars caught the inspiration and joyously sang together. Each new illumined planet moved harmoni- ous on its restricted orbit, echoing back sweet melodies to the sunlit earth, — for the earth itself heard the voice of Jehovah, and joined in the glorious concert of the shining sisterhood, looking beautifully down through the azure heavens. The morning and evening zephyrs bore on their wings harmonious breathings, like tones of cherub voices from the upper skies , and the beneficent Creator was pleased to listen to the sweetly blending harmonies of his own power. The insupportable gloom which must pervade the world without the voice of music, was foreseen by the Creator, who, with gracious finger touched the mystic harp of nature, whose cheering melo- dies filled the universe, to echo and re-echo, From star to star in heaven's vast azure plain. From shore to shore across the trackless main. Through woodlands, and among the towering hills, O'er flowery meads, and by the purling rills. So long as heaven smiles on the world below, Or mountains rise, or crystal fountains flow. J6 In spite of the world's cold calculation and groveling pursuits, we feel that there is poetry and a love for the beautiful interwoven with our spiritual existence ; and we yearn for some medium more congenial or powerful than oral or written language, hy which to express the deeper feelings. This medium is music, which enables the soul to un- bosom its innermost harmonies in the searching language of song ; or breathe out, what the tongue may not tell, the heart's deep hidden sentiments through the agency of some musical instrument. It was this feeling that in- fluenced the pen of one of nature's true poets, to say — " Music I oh, how faint, how weak, Language fades before thy spell : Why should feeling ever speak. When thou can'st breathe her soul so well." The inhabitants of the great globe, whether found at the Artie pole, or at the Torrid zone ; among the tower- ing mountains of Kurope, or bending before dumb idols in the remote corners of Asia ; clustering near the sunny fountains, or roaming the wild jungles of Africa ; at the loom, or the plough, or hunting in the green forests and mountains of America ; whether civilized or uncivil- ized, all find existence irksome without music of some kind. Deprived altogether of this " original constituent of creation," what appalling silence and monotony would pervade the world ! Haggard and grim spectres would visit us by night, and suspicious fears everywhere bi'ood in our pathway by day. ***** Music and poetry conjointly arrayed are sorry comfort- ers to despotism, slavery, bigotry or fanaticism. 37 A Byron or a Burus might pour forth from the soul of genius a single strain of fire, whose burning melody would light the worn and drooping spirits of a hesitating army, and lead them on to splendid victory. A Shakspere might delineate the character, and ex- pose the intrigues and hypocrisy of the Avorld personified in a Hamlet, so that the music of his imagination would ring upon the dull cars of vicious millions, till they felt a deep sense of their errors, and returned to the path of virtue. At a single sweep of his lyre, a Cowper might reani- mate the bowed spirit, and rekindle the fires of liberty so high that slavery and abject servitude, in whatever form, would be seen only to be hated and hurled back to their original and stygian abode. A Beethoven, a Ilaydn, a IVInzart, a Mendelsohn, might hold at will tlic hearts of the listening multitude, so that nothing the grosser world could present, would induce them to disengage the feelings from the delicious enchant- ment of those minstrels of heaven-gifted genius. A Madam Catalani, a Malibran, a Wood, a Jenny Lind , as commissioners to settle a war question, might present themselves before a garrison of ready musketry and artillery, and at their first harmonious overture the enemy, with hearts softened and souls entranced, would lay down their arms and hold up the olive branch of peace. See the martyi*s of old, with pinioned hands and feet suspended over the slow kindling faggots, consuming inch by inch — doomed to such barbarous fate by j^reposterous fools and nefarious villains — see them, — hear them sing- ing songs of spiritual triumph over their sanctimonious 4* 88 murderers. Even while consuming in the lurid flames, those martyrs could " associate music with the bliss which awaits the soul in anotlier world." Music awakens the slumbering chords of tlie soul to a vivid sense of the beautiful and good. The silken ties of affection are keenlj^ susceptible to its electric touch. " It drives out of the heai-t vile passions and imaginations, and fills it with high and holy aspirations. Judiciously used, it will cheer the spirits, expand the soul with mag- nanimity, benevolence and compassion ,' sooth its anguish and elevate it to the sublimity of devotion." It is of divine emanation, was coexistent with the uni- verse, and Is coetcrnal Avith the fadeless joys of Paradise. FALSE COLORS. SUGGESTED ON HEAUIXG THE IXXOCENT DEFAMED- I've watched the ocean Rover, "With false colors to his mast. In artful tack, survey the bark That struggled in the blast. And seen him, like a seabird skim Along the crested main. Till he could grapple with the prize His fiendish heart would gain. " Luff boys," the Rover hoarsely cries^ " Let fly the signal black, 39 The ship is ours, as we shall see — Her topsails are aback. Draw the keen knife — prepare to " board," Spare none to lisp the talc ; Secure the gold, apply the torch, And we are with the gale." Not in this form alone, appears The foe in friendship's sheen ; On land^ as well as ocean drear. False colors oft arc seen. The idle gossip floats about With every changing gale, And with her siren voice, she breathes A life-corroding tale. The nymph and swain catch up the sound And pipe it o'er and o'er. Till Love's bright wreath droops in the blast. And Friendship lives no more. " Who steals my purse, steals trash" — but ah, To rob me of my name. Is more than Pirate could demand, — Defamcr ! where's thy shame ? Forbear, ye rovers on the land, Nor steal what gold can't buy ; — The brightest flower to scamlaVs touch May droop its head and die. Take heed — give freedom to each sail — Bear up for Virtue's light, Or Justice, ever on the wing, Will 'mind you of its might. 40 SmtMER'S RETURN. She comes all adornerl with bright odorous roses, And -wears a sweet smile that enraptures the heart; She comes from a clime where the jasmine reposes, Where spice-breathing zephyrs ne'er sigh to depart. She comes like a maiden of exquisite beauty, And breathes in our pathway her soul-stirring song ; Oh, why do we slumber while summon'd to duty ? Why choose we the din of the city's rude throng ? List, list to the music, as sweetly 'tis faUing, On every soft zephyr it floats to our ear ; The birds of bright plume to each other are calling. And all is delightful, for Summer is here I The fields at her touch are bespangled with flowers, And mountains and valleys rejoice at her call ; Oh ! who cannot find in the cool, blossom'd bowers, A charm never met with in fashion's gay hall? The Summer is here — quite as youthful as ever, For time cannot furrow her fair, sunny brow ; But ah, she has wings ! — and will hasten to sever ! And yet, she would stay, did the clime but allow. Then away to the Avoods while gay nature is smiling. And tossing her sweet perfumed gems all around ; There's nought in the lesson she breathes that's beguiling^ Oh ! come then, repair to the bright flowery ground. 41 REFLECTIONS OF AN OLD MAN. 'TwAS twilight hour — I saw an old man leaning on his staff, — His features haggard, and his looks were white. The blight of fourscore years was on his brow, — A tear suffused his eye, and quivering hung his lip. Sigh after sigh escaped his breast ; — Ilis harp Seem'd set to sorrow ; and metliought I heard Its lone lament go out upon the breeze Of evening, thus : — Those golden hours of dreaming youth, How soon they pass away. And leave us withering in the shade Of cold and sunless day. These eyes once bright, are faint and dim — And furrowed is my cheek ; I'm smitten by the frost of time, ^Vherc shall I comfort seek ? I cannot revel 'mong bright flowers With schoolmates light and free, As in those early days, ah, no — Those ibrms no more I see. Nor stoop at brink of cr}stal spring And quaff its pure delight, 'Neath balmy grove, with genial hearts Who blessed my boyhood's sight. 42 I cannot roam with tiny step, Through sweet ambrosial bowers, And hail the birds of gentle beak That earroU 'mong the flowers. And oh, I've lost that 'lastic nerve, That oft o'er placid lake Was wont to urge my skiff along, With light hearts in my wake. And was I once that ruddy boy, Whose cheek wore such a glow When pressed by a fond mother's lip ? Alas, 'tis even so ! Relentless Time has swept away Those gems that fed my gaze ; And soon his blighting, freezing breath. Must chill tJiis ftiinting blaze. The dream, though fraught with pain, is sweet,- 'Tis past, — I am alone ; — I will not sigh for youth again, For lost ones, will not moan. Though wreaths of sparkling roses croAvned My brow in e,arly day, How have I felt the lurking thorn Stealing my life away ! Upon life's sea of boisterous wave, Lash'd by the angry blast, My bark has struggled fearful on. With bent and shattered mast. And one might read in these moist eyes, A story of the past ; 43 The inward harpstrings rudi'ly riven, And gloom about me east. Then oh, my soul, thy yearnings cease. Nor backward look in vain ; But speed thee on, my trembling bark, And leave this sea of pain. Hope aids me here to fix my gaze. On yon Celestial bower. Where youtli and love forever dwell, And Time is 'reft of powei". THE DEAD CHILD. SUGGESTED ON SEEING A YOUNG MOTHER KISS HER LIFELESS INFANT. I HEARD a voice of mourning — And I learnt 'twas a fond mother Bending o'er her lifeless infant, While like some chizzled statue, fine, it laj- Wrapt in its robe of white, outstretched and cold ; Its placid brow and angel fai.'C would seem Almost to dry up all its parents' tears — Still gazed the mother ; and methought I heard, Amid loud freepient sighs, her harp thus tuned : Jewel my own, my lov'd, my lost, — I stoop to kiss thy marble brow ; — Those eyes so fix'd by death's keen frost, Can shed no radiance on me now. 44 No, no, alas ! — nor can those arms Of ivory liue, about me twine ; — My child ! — oh ! have those infant charms On me forever ceased to shine ? No breath, no pulse, no smile for me — No sweet embrace — my dearest, wake ! Nor let me call in vain to thee, Else a fond mother's heart will break. With acliing heart in vain I call, And thy dread silence chills my blood ; O'er thee my gushing tears must fall. Seeming almost a crimson flood. I will embrace thee, e'en though death Has thrown his mantle round thy bier, And o'er thee pause with trembling breath While thou in silent sleep art here. But why despair — when Hope is near ; To bid me calm each burning sigh ? My beautiful, my treasure dear. We only part to meet on high. 45 ON THE DEATH OF A BROTHER. In pursuit of a beloved brother, in the fall of 1837, I was on my way to a hotel in New Orleans, the place by appointment for us to meet ; — stepping into the post- ofliec T received a letter apprising me of liis death in East Florida. And has he fallen ? Has that bright taper ceased so soon to burn ? Those eyes — loved eyes — beaming with youthful fire, Shall we behold no more their cheering light ? And no more hear his soothing voice "i* O Death ! *' Keen Archer!" — swift, relentless, fly Thine arrows, bringing low alike the small And great, the youth and hoary head. Father of Light ! what other source than Thou In this dark hour can bid th>3 troubled soul Be calm ? O raise from its deep gloom The spirit Thou behold'st now stricken low ! Tie after tie that make life dear, dissolved — Link after link of that endearing chain Which binds in sweet affection heart with heart, Are sundered — yet why do I murmur thus ? Friends waited long, (alas !) AVith anxious pulse to meet once more the eyes Of him who sighed full oft in distant land For home — but vainly did they hope. The cold Rude finger of the ' tyrant Death' had press'd Its icy touch upon the youth's fair brow. 46 *" * * Could one dear friend Beside his wasting form have stood, to meet His last fond gaze — to whisper words of love, And cool with balmy drops his fever'd lips. He would have breathed to Heaven a grateful prayer, And sunk in smiles away. But ah I It was not so. No gentle sister's care, Or mother's ever watchful, tender eye. Or father's, brother's mellow voice could reach The dying youth — yet still, no murmur 'scaped His lips. He said, " My Father, holiest, best ! In all thy dealings in my destiny. To Thine own will may I submissive be." And soon the chilly drops on his pale brow, Told with the silent pulse that all was o'er. He died, alas ! while in his youth and bloom. Away from friends. In distant land of gloom ; Affection's tear ne'er falls upon his grave ; He sleeps alone — and o'er him wild weeds wave. THE SEASONS. The stern old man Winter, with finger of steel. And with rude frosty mantle, has fled ; And the airy-winged minstrels, with stirring appeal, Come to tell us of Spring in his stead. 47 Yon cottage no longer is buried in snoAv, Nor its inmates with agony toss'd ; For the spring-time is come, and the brooks again flow, And the poor do not feel the keen frost. But ah ! who can tell, whilst the winter clouds frown'il, IIow many sunk 'ncath their chill shade ; IIow many now sleep on the drear ocean ground, By the fury of storms lowly laid. But these sad reflections will darken the hour, Which has opened upon us so bright ; Then again to my theme, ere it loses its power, And my muse on swift pinion takes flight. The Spring, in her beautiful vest, comes again, With her promises cheering and mild ; And she breathes out her music to dissipate pain From the breast of the sorrowful child. Creation rejoiceth — all nature is free ; Each young bud and blade thus declare ; Old Winter's wry visage no longer we see, He has vanished — and soft is the air. O, next in her turn golden Summer will come, With her birds and sweet music and flowers ; When maidens and swains then together will roam, To rejoice in the cool hawthorn bowers. But all in fair nature again will be drear. For the autumnal breezes must blow ; "When the sere leaf will whisper that winter is near. And remind us of changes below. 48 But oil, round the heart, borne on beautiful mng, A lone messenger hovers, of love ; It is Hope — and she points to a more perfect sprinor, To an unfading sunniier above^ THE CONSUMPTIVE. SUGGESTED ON THE SUDDEN PASSING AAVAY OF A BLOOMING AND AMIABLE YOUNG LADY. -She was beautiful- But ah, how soon that form of heavenly mould, Claim'd of its mother earth, a resting place. Tliat cheek of damask, for the darkling warm To feast upon, full soon, alas ! is laid Deep in. its clayey cell. "When summer brought Us back sweet flowers, to gem each garden walk. And beauteous birds came to us with their songs Of joy— when purling fountain, radiant field. And blossom'd woods in gladness smiled. Oh then With step elastic, 'long the bright green earth. She mov'd — a jewel all of loveliness ! Her radiant eyes told of a guileless heart ; Each feature wore the impress of a mind Within, refined. She seem'd too fair a flower To bloom beneath the skies^ Unseen, unheard, " The insatiate Archer" lurked— resolved this prize To win. With steady gaze, — reluctant half, To blight her sunny hope, he paused ; — again Resolving, bent the fatal bow, sprung quick The cord, and swift the poisoned arrow flew. Proud of success, he onward hied, leaving His victim, still unconscious of her fate — To fade and die. Months fleet away — her eye Gives token 'neath its languid lid, that all's Not well within. The once bright crimsoned cheek Now wears a sickly hue, save now and then The hectic flush deceitful comes. Upon Her, friends intensely anxious gaze, but nought Of death is uttered, hoping yet to crush The canker-worm that gnaws unseen within. Upon the dreary couch With sunken eye, and form emaciate, now She lingers. Friends are watching every look And sign she gives. The eye of sympathy, The cup of balm, the voice of love, are all Within her dying chamber ; and she feels. While racked with pain, that all the ties of love And friendship, must be torn asunder, aye. The thousand charms which bind & favored child To earth, must now forgotten be. She looks With sweet composure all around, and bids Her weeping friends once more adieu. Tlie last Low throbbing pulse has told the tale. She yields 50 With placid smile to death. Her spirit pure, By hovering angels now is caught, and borne Away to realms of endless bliss. The Harp that so sweetly in tune lingered here, When bright flowrets bloomed o'er the ground, Is now tuneless and still, 'neath the winter clods drear. Yet its music seems floating around. Yes — in fancy we hear, blending sweet with the lute, Her low mellow tones shed at will ; And though now, beneath the cold stone, she is mute. In our hearts, lives her memory still. THE ORPHAN'S LAMENT. SUGGESTED ON SEEING AN UNFORTUNATE ORPHAN ROY WEEPING ALONE, NEAR THE GRAVES OF HIS PARENTS. My father, my mother — Oh, where have they gone V iSIy brothers, ami sisters too,, where, where are they ? Ah, who will now pity me, wretched and lorn, Since all who would love me sleep 'neath the cold clay. I stand and behold here the graves of the dead. And I cnll — but they v/hisper no answer to me ; ! would that with them I could pillow my head, Where they slumber so sweetly, from trouble so freo.. But ah ! I'm a wanderer bereft of a guide. And about me the mantle of sorrow is thrown ; Unto whom can I speak — in what bosom confide, Now the spirits that blessed me are all of them flown '^ 51 If I turn to the right, or the left, 'tis the same, Forover awaits me the world's cruel frown ; On the altar of friendship, gone out is the flame, That promised to guide me to days of renown. I mourn — for the friends of my youth are all gone ; I sigh for the smiles of my parents so dear ; I think with regret of the hour I was born. And I shrink to contemplate the future, so drear. With storm-clouds surrounded, ]>\ rude breezes borne. My bark o'er the sea of life tremblingly flies j Bui though lashed by the tempest, I'll cease me to mourn, For I know there is rest— there's a home in the skies. THE REFORMED SAILOR. At the " Seamen's Home," in this town, one of Nep- tune's brave and hardy sons, who had long been devoted to his early love, the " Jug," through the kind persuasion of the benevolent landlady, determined to forsake the treacherous bowl ; and as a token of the victory he firmly resolved to achieve, presented the Jug, to which he had long been endeared, to her whom he had voluntarily termed his mother. He became a reformed man. MOTHEK, a sailor though I am. My wayward heart can feel : — Thy tones of sadness touch my soul» Thine is a. friend's appeal. 52 I've borne full oft the cruel lash, But nought could stripes avail ; Before the tyrant arm of man Your sailor ne'er would quail. Kindness the stubborn heart can move : See on my cheek a tear : No foe e'er saw a gem like this, From eye despising fear. Mother, I'll take thy kind advice, Breathed with subduing voice : — As proof I'm firm, take now this jug, It is no more my choice. But list a moment — let me dwell Upon the gloomy past : A score of years — sad tale to tell — This jug I've held full fast. Oft have I raised to shipmate's lip, The cup whose sting is death ; And by it seen the sailor fall. With curses on each breath. In foreign clinie where orange flowers Bloom in their native bed, I've parents, brothers, sisters too,— And tears for iTie they've shed. Long, long o'er ocean's restless wave, Far from a home of joy, Has wandered, wiih this Ireaclierous friend ^ The' hardy ocean boy. SB At length his ship with steady keel, And cloud of snowy sail, Flies like a seabird, beautiful, Before the gentle gale. See ! she has rounded to the breeze, Her anchor now is cast ; — In peaceful haven, lo, she floats, Secure from angry blast. Mother, this safety-port is here, When tempests hover round ; Thou art the wandering sailor's guide, Showing where rest is found. The " Seaman's Home," — name ever tk-ar, Here first I furled my sail ; And learnt I had a heart, a soul, — O'er follies could bewail. Long have I roam'd, a stubborn child, Of stern, unflinching eye ; — But let the past be all forgot, And homeward let me hie. I'll spread once more my canvass wide, And through the deep sea wave. My bark hhall speed to foreign clime, E'er friends all find a grave. And, mother, I will talk of thee, Of all thy kind reproof; And tell how eager thou didst pray, I'd keep from sin aloof. Mother, I love no more the bowl, Thou'st sounded the alarm, 54 And drawn me ■with an angel's power, From the destroyer's charm. Friends of the " Sailor^s Home," adieu, On you may heaven smile ; And, kindest Mother, fare thee well, Thy bosom knows no guile. Home of my second birth, farewell, — I leave with fond regret ; — Land of the Seaman's Friends, adieu ! Thee I will ne'er forget. MISS SHEPHERD AND HER FISH. Oct. 1840. — Married in New- York; Mr. Preserved Fish to Miss Alary Shepherd. A Fish preserved ! ho, come and see ! The gentle Mary cried ; A Fish has long been seeking me, And I'm at last his bride ! I had been taught in early youth That fishes never spoke, — What my old grandma'am sung for trutli, Turns out to be a joke. Although a Shepherd, I'd no flock Of little lambs to tend ; And oft b}' favorite mossy rock My lonesome hours I'd spend. 55 One (lav I ch;tnocd to linger near A purling, crystal stream ; When soft tones fell upon my ear Like music in a dream. I gazed upon the placid brook, But saw no image there : I turned me round with anxious look. And all was still and fair : But suddenly, from silent glade, Forth came a lonely Fish ; Nor fins, nor wings had he — but made Just as my heart could wish. He spoke ! — which proved my grandma'am wronj His voice was like a bird ; His soft appeal he breathed in song, I answered not u word : But all the lime it was my wish This creature were but mine : I never saw so fine a fish Brought up by hook and line. He breathed again a plaintive lay, And craved a Shepherd's care ; He asked, if light there was, one ray That he my hopes could share. Said I, long, long I've fancied Fish, And now my heart is thine ; S.iid he, / have no other wish, Xow Mary Shepherd's mine. 56 THE EEJECTED. TuK dance is up — the story's told, And I, alas ! have failed to win ! I tuned my harp, and thought 'twould hold, But wires were wanting — made of gold ; Without such strings " you can't come in" The girl for whom I strung my lyre, (Which by the way is cracked in twain,) Flung me aside into the mire, And fancied I Avould there expire ; But, " Richard is himself again. '^ 'Tis true she warbled like a dove. And all for me, " long time ago," And somatimes used to talk of — love, When stars were glowing bright above ; But lastly her sweet song, was " No 1" There was a time she whispered " Yes" (Which bade my doubting heart be glad,) The vow was sealed with a kiss, And I began to think of bliss, Till her tune changed — then, oh, how sad ! I bowed and gathered up my pack, And presto, I ran o'er the hill, For oh, I'd fears she'd call me back, As oft she'd done with artful nack, And I'd no wish to take the pill. m Three times anew I bade ^^fareweW To my own love, Miss Pickle ; And strange as it may seem to tell, She each time said, / did rebel. And in her note, she called me ^\fickle.' At last she gave the fatal blow Which laid poor Richard flat ; Thinks he, it was'nt long time ago She said, ne'er more would she do so — I wondered what she meant by that! But I'm a used up child, they say. Of my sad fate, ye swains beware : My bird has flown — ('tis all O. K.) I'll catch one on some sunny day ; Till then, I'm right side up with care. SONG OF THE SAILOR. Come down to old Ocean's dark caverns with me. Where in silence are sleeping the brave, Upon pillows of coral, low in the deep sea ; I shall claim there a spot for my grave. My home is the Ocean, whose high foaming crest Wet my brow while in infancy toss'd ; I was born on her bosom, and there will I rest, Till beneath the blue wave I am lost. 6 58 I have roamed from my Infancy over the sea, Every where, like a lone restless dove ; From India's soft clime to the Emerald lea, — And the deep, heaving ocean I love. I've struggled with storms, 'mid the blue lightning's glare, While fearfully plunged our frail bark ; When old Neptune himself seemed half In despair, — And around us the sly, hungry shark. I've felt the rude breath of a keen Northern clime, . Where the icebergs of terror roll by. Towering and glltt'ring — cold mountains sublime. Where brave ones oft venture to die. And far in the South 's burning regions I've roamed, Where the hot lava files through the air ; On the mountain I've stood, while the crater has foamed , With its threat'ning and terrible glare. Upon a frail plank I've been thrown on the wave. And beheld our ship striving to float ; Seen her sink with the crew to a dark ocean grave, While a fragment alone was my boat. My parents, I've none — and my friends, where are they ? Side by side In the bed of the sea ; And o'er them the water-fowl chants his dull lay. And is waiting to breathe one o'er me. Then come to the sub-marine caverns with me. And behold there the good and the brave ; Let me sleep by their side — sleep at last in the sea ; While the billows above me shall lave. 59 ODE FOR A TEMPERANCE OCCASION. 8CNG ON THE FOURTH OF JULY. All hail, all hail, ye soldiers bold, Who've lain the hydra monster low ; Plunge the keen spear, nor loose your hold Till his last fiendish blood shall flow. Strike riee/>— the tyrant feels your power — The thousand-headed dragon's down; Strike all — for now's the auspicious hour — See how he writhes with demon frown. Fair daughters of Columbia, rise ! And with your sires and brothers dear, Loud paeans raise e'en to the skies, A day of Jubilee is here. Rejoice ! — the mother's found her son, Long lost in Bacchanalian bower ; The wife her husband's smile hath won, For now he scorns the wine cup's power. The father is a father now, Since he has quit the treacherous bowl ; The brother wears a placid brow. Who pledged his name, and saved his soul. The mother, who forsook her child, To quaff the cup of liquid blaze. Is saved from error's thorny wild, And walks again in virtue's ways. Oh, friends of man, of Heaven, rejoice ' Our country's flag unfurl to-day, With motto " Temp'rance,'* Wisdom's choice, We feel her bright and cheering ray. Again, all hail ye soldiers bold, Beneath whose power the monster's chained ; Stand to your arms, nor yield your hold Till all is safe — the victory gained 1 FLOWERS. Tis early dawn — and all around Bright dewy flowers I view, Uprising from the fertile ground, Of every form and hue. The waving trees in silken sheen. Unfold their blossoms gay ; And on each festooned bough is seen. Young minstrel birds at play. The vale, and hill, and balmy grove, With dewy gems are bright ; In mountain wilds, where'er we rove. Beauty attracts the sight. The caroling of happy birds. More joyous make the scene ; And pleasant 'tis to view the herds Trip round the velvet green. Tis morn — I trace the rosy aisles Of yonder garden rare ; 61 Each swelling bud seems fraught with smiles That thinking hearts may share. The tall tarnation pink is by With breath of incense sweet, Unlbkling splendors to each eye That will its beauties greet. I sit me by the tulip mound, Where fancy sheds her light ; Here gems of every tint abound. Most charming to the sight. The lily of the valley too, And the forgetme-not, Come Ibrth as stars of light, anew To gild the garden spot. The damask rose and myrtle flowers, Narcissus and sweet pea, With lustre shine in garden bowers, As stars shine on the sea. Nature in lovliuess appears, To gladden every mind ; She may dispel our sighs and tears, True joys in her we find. 'TLs noon — I rest by purling stream, Where grows the ivy vine ; Here oft I've strayed in youthful dream. Plucking the columbine. 0, I will sing of flowers — a theme, For loftiest pen to dwell ; How faint must weaker efforts seem Their charms divine to tell. 6* 62 V/here is the hand -vvoukl crash a flower Unheedf ul of its worth ? Ilim who outpours the genial shower;^ Is authaor of its birth. Oh, bring me flowers when the last, Last pulse has told its tale ; They'll cheer the scene amid the blast That turns the features pale. THE RESCUE. In the autumn of 1829, a beautiful schooner from Havana, bound to the Chesapeak Bay, fell far to leeward in a severe storm, could not make a harbor ; came near the shore, anchored and there foundered. Three individ- uals only, out of the crew and passengers, were rescued. The Captain's wife and infant chikl were almost miracu- lously saved by the noble daring of a stranger, who called his name Alberto. He said he had been wrecked a few weeks before near Cape Henry. He was travelling on foot towards New- York, and being overtaken by the storm in which the schooner was lost, sought and obtained shelter in a cottage near the seashore, not far from a small settlement. I'he Ibllowing poem was written after personal conversation with the hero of the adventure : 'TwAS night in Autumn — lowery night; The waning moon hard strove to send Through moody clouds, her misty light, A stranger lone, swift speeds his way To sheltering roof near ocean spray; He gains the cot, and at the door, Pleads in a voice of manly tone, For rest upon the humble floor. 63 A voice within was quick to say, Whence stranger thou, so hitc this way ; Art friend ? — then may'st thou with me stay. Aye, friend, — Alberto is my name. And recent o'er yon sea I came. 'Tis gloomy night, but here 'tis warm Within thy lowly roof, good sire ; A grateful shelter from the storm. ***** Alberto to a couch is shown. And soon in dreamy rest he lay ; Unheeding now the dreary moan Of winds from o'er the foaming bay. The driving storm howls madder still, And more portentous every blast. Almost the heart's warm blood might chill. So dismal is the sky o'ercast. The dark, deep sea is rolling nigh. And breaking wild on craggy shore ; The spray shoots foaming to the sky, While all around is deafning roar. A struggling bark appears in view, Reefed close, she ploughs the curling wave " Sharp on the wind," with noble crew Striving to 'scape an ocean grave. She snuffs the gale the point to gain. Falls short and anchors near the shore ; Deep plunges in the stormy main The bark, with sails and rigging tore. 64 With leaky prow she heads the gale Rides high, and rolls in heavy trim ; Half horror struck the crew turn pale, At view of leeward breakers grim. All in a hurry on the wave The life-boat's launch'd from off the deck ; It braves the hissing brine, to save The anxious crew from fated wreck. Down o'er the storm-tossed vessel's side They hasten to the restless boat Which longs to battle with the tide, Away o'er curling Avaves to float. The boat has fiercely riven her fast, And darts with dolphin speed away ; Alas ! a wild and fearful blast O'erturns her in the whirling spray. Fast to her keel the hopeless crew With rending struggles cling for life ; But scattered by the gale they flew Amidst the breakers' gloom and strife. ***** 'Tis midnight past — Alberto wakes And hears the storm and ocean's roar ; A dim light on his vision breaks, 'Tis in the bark just off Ihe shore. He starts — looks out with eager eye, I see, it is a torch light there ; A woman on the deck I spy ! I'll save her, else her fate I'll share. 65 The day dawns dismal to the sight, And mangled forms lay on the beach ; Alberto waves a signal bright That he shall dare that wreck to reach. Ho ! men of hearts that list around, Six of the boldest now I mark ; Dare ye with me at helm to bound O'er the wild wave to yonder bark ? Launch quickly then, yon little barge That hears with us the seaman's sigh ; To oars ! our duty we'll discharge. Beneath high heaven's guardian eye. # * * * * Now out upon the hurling wave The boat speeds dolphin-like away ; Alberto cries, Pull, fellows brave, Nor fear the gale, or threatening skies. In the lone bark, — a signal's there, I see the mother with her child ; Loose in the gale streams out her hair. She shrieks for aid in accents wild ! Bend the stout oars nor heed the surge, Those living forms this arm shall save, Else the shrill blast shall pipe a dirge Over my corse beneath the wave. To windward lads — strong be your pull. As high we mount th' impetuous swell ; Alberto's heart with hope is full, With him we all meet danger well. 66 Now with the gale speed o'er the spray Down to you struggling vessel's side ; Steady your pull, nor fear dismay, In our staunch boat will we confide. Sec boys ! the babe clings to her neck : Throw me the child ! Alberto cries : 'Tis done, 'tis safe ! but from the wreck Swift as a flash the light boat flies. Hound to the surge, my boys, again With steady pull ! one efibrt more ! AVe'U bear from Avild and boist'rous main The fair young mother safe to shore. Now high on surges wild tlicy rise, Shooting undaunted through the storm ; J^ach heart throbs quick with anxious sighs, To save from death that living form. Bear down ! the " craft" is near at lee, Alberto's arm is strong to save : Now, now we mount a lengthen'd sea — Leap lady, leap from yawning grave. 'Tis done, praise heaven I she's in the barge And to her bosom clasps her child ; Pull comrades with the precious charge And scape the breakers near us wild. Now at each dip of pliant oar, , Nearer she draws to safety ground ; And soon the adventurers gain the shore 'Mong deeply anxious hearts around. 67 The fair lone mother witli her child Gazed on the brave Alberto's brow ; Blessed him and crew in breathings mild, And said, I'll ever bless as now. Then on the sand with bended knee While still the gale howled dismal by ; The rescued breathed her spirit free, In gratitude to God on high. LINES ON THE DEATH OF MRS. H. W. C. OF MANCnKSTER, N. H. " Friends depart, and memory takes them " To her caverns, pure and deep." Silent and cold In narrow, deep, dark cell, lonely she sleeps ; Nor tears, nor fervent prayers, nor human skill, Could aught avail. The stern " grim archer" came ; Full soon alas ! and sprung the unerring bow : In her warm heart, deep sunk the fatal shaft ; One last keen struggle, and the shades of death Fell on her youthful brow. The chilling winds Bring on their wings the tidings sad — and hearts Where friendship dwells must swell and throb and a With the lily and violet blue ; Each flow'ret and bird, and mild zephyr bespoke A bright sunmier returning anew. 73 Tho. prove and the garden with music were rife, For tho birds caroU'd joyously there ; The lark and the robin sang all into life Which had bowed 'neath the keen winter air. She came — and all nature looked up with a smile, The herds were at sport in the vale, The trees hung in bright silken vesture awhile — Then died in the autumnal gale. Nay, nay — it were wrong, for no deatJi may come near. Though the rude breath of winter sweeps by ; 'Tis but nature reposing, while thus all is drear, And the heart may not hopelessly sigh. Though fled is the queen of the rosy twined brow, Hope whispcre her genial return ; Of her lawns and bright blossoms I dream even now, — '^^^lat heart for those charms would not yearn '? Oh, sure she will come, with gay birds and sweet flower; Upon wings of new promises borne ; Her sunbeams of glory and soft falling showers, Shall restore the lost beauty we mourn. TRAPS. Suggested on seeing a friend misled. There are fly traps, and rat traps, And traps to catch foxes ; Some with teeth like a shark, Others, close cunning boxes, 7* 74 There are coon traps, and bear traps, And traps to catch beavers, And bird traps, and fish traps, All ingenious deceivei-s. Bltt among all the sly traps And I reckon the worst. Is the life-stealing jjian-trap^ Into which he is thrust. Oh ! young man, and old man> Why walk yon therein ? This man-trap's a ?-t/m-trap ! Beware of its grin ! Stand up with pnoud jiVmness ; Look with sco7-n on temptation ;. Man, to be a good soldier, Must maintain honor's station- Then hear, oh ye brothers^ And sisters of clay ; Avoid the sly death-trap, When set in your way. But, if ye tvill challenge The ruin ye can trace, Then step in the rum-trap And bear the disgrace. 75 TO AN ALBUM. Gkm of remembrance, pure and fair, Of thee I tune my harp to sing ; I love thy modest form and air, And in thy path bright flowers I'd fling. Soon thou wilt roam untarnished, free, Through classic halls and pleasant bowers ; And friends will sweetly dream of thee, While thou art culling fairy flowers. From sparkling gardens, pluck with care The blushing buds that smile on thee ; Of those that Jlatler most, beware ! Sharjj thorns in roses bright may be. Seek to recline in Friendship's bower, "Where hearts of guile can never beat ; There's in her voice a magic power. And in her touch a genial heat. Should Love on downy wing come near. With whispers pure, and tones divine, Oh ! fly not from a theme so dear. But round thy brow his garlands twimj. And when from every honeyed flower Thou hast made up thy jewels rare, O linger not in foreign bower. But speed thee home with golden fare. ^ 76 THE "EVIL SPIRIT" IN DISGUISE. He comes in varied dress : And first — though not the vilest of the train, Comes '■'■ whiskey punch," the harbinger of pain ; Its pretence is to please, its aim to kill ! Alas ! it proves too oft a fatal pIlL The next, perhaps, that comes in merry turn, Is " Tom and Jerry" in some shining urn ; Of eggs and sugar it is made, and wine Or old " West-India,^' labelled superfine : Delicious in its flavor — but heicare .' An adder lurks, of deadliest poison, there ; The fascination of this pleasant drink Has lured full many a youth o'er ruin's brink. And here's mintjulip — come, my friends, walk up, Fear not, there is no harm within the cup, — ^lany have tasted of its joys for years, And felt no need, I think, for shedding tears. 'Tis false ! for in its vapor rising high. Dark, haggard, dancing fiends you may espy. There's " soda punch," a fashionable mead Of choicest flavor — dainty lips to feed ; Touch not its foam — 'tis foe to Adam's race, A viper's coiled beneath its sparkling face. 77 In gayest mood next c^mcs tbe clear Chaynpaffne, AV'liose fond caress leaves on the brow a stain ; The Itarned and yreat swim in its amber stream, Till mortal life seems but a shadowy dream. Spurn the first ofPring of this polished foe ; It leads to disappointment, pain, and woe. The " Milk Punch" too, so delicate and fine, Made nice and soothing, with the choicest wine ; Ladies sometimes its dainty fumes will quaff : It hath the power to wake the merry laugh. But ah ! who touches this pale demon in disguise, May reap reward, e'er long, in bitter sighs. Then, Old Madeira, Port, and Sherry Brown, Each with a treacherous smile flung o'er a frown. Who court these pink-eyed sisters of despair^ May wither in the shade of grief and care. And there are cordials beautiful in name, Arch-demons, made to kindle passion's flame ; Sweet and deUcious to the eager lip ; But mischief lurks in every dainty sip. Then, London porter, New-York heer, and ale, AVithout which every noble ship can sail ; But Ikicchus, trembling sometimes with alarm. Calls up these aids to prop his stricken arm. There's " Cogniac" and " Holland's" I must name, And " Hard Old Cider," of a lesser flame ; Tliese last, not least, nor all the burning train, ^lust close my rhyme, and spare you further pain. 78 ON VISITING THE GRAVE OF A FRIEND. Oil, if there is untouclied one string, Attuned to sorrow, in the heart — If tliere is any thing to wake regret, To bid the soul's lone harp pour forth its tones Of grief : — if there is aught on earth To claim from human eye a tear — to call Forth man's rellectlve powers, and stir him up To thoughts of God and of eternity — It is the grave. I stood alone , With throbbing heart, and eye bedimm'd with tears. Gazing upon the narrow mound, beneath Whose broken turf the lost and lovely lay. The " poisoned barb of the grim archer Death," With aim unerring did its work. — She fell, A floAver of early, but of fullest bloom, Too bright and fair to thrive in thorny field. And now that cheek which wore the crimson hue ; That fair and classic brow of light ; — those eyes That asked no aid of words to tell the heart's Affections — and that graceful form — alas ; Are pale and cold and still, in narrow grave. ****** I stood and called, as if to wake the dead : But that familiar voice was hushed and gone. I gazed with steady eye, as if to pierce The leaden clods, — but no response came up. 79 I listened — and methought I heard below, The noise of revelling worms, upon that form, Whose footstcj)S traced, but yesterday, the fields And llowing lawns : — and here I felt My heart-strings tighten — ready to be riv'n. Upon a grey stone near, I sat me down, And thus a plaintive lay I wove : She sleeps — and friends must wait in vain : No eye will mark her coming more ; That lovely form among the slain Reposes on a clayey floor. A moment since, in her bright eye A soul of radiant beauty shone ; But never more she'll linger nigh To cheer lov'd hearts when sad and louc. 'Twas hers to shed the tender tear Of sympathy for others' grief ; The sorrow'd bosom she could cheer, And proffer to the sick, relief. That casket, mingling with the dust, Contained a gem of worth untold ; Enclosed a soul — now with the Just — Whore it may all its joy unfold. Mcthinks her voice floats on the air, Whisp'ring, weep not dear friends for me ; Throw off thy grief and blighting care : / live ! sl'dl live .' from sorrow free. 80 CRUELTY TO DUMB ANIMALS. There is a class in everj* community -whose supreme delight is to inflict pain upon beast, bird and insect, whenever opportunity is seen. A majority of hoys are ever on the alert with stone in hand, to pelt every defenceless animal within their reach. Parents should endeavor to check in the bud, any such cruel propensities in "their children. " Just as the twig is bent the tree's inclined." The twig, left to itself, may become a branch of stubborn growth ; hence the importance of bending i t when in a state of youthful elasticity. If the guides of youth desire those entrusted to their care to possess true feelings of humanity, and wish them to breathe out an atmosphere of benevolence throughout society, let them point to the character of the great pattern of benevo- lence. Let youth be taught to love the beautiful in nature ; to cherish feelings of kindness towards all creatures. A propensity to torture even the vilest thing of earth, should not receive the slightest countenance. The Maker of all things is himself the deep, rich, sole fountain of universal benevolence ; and man may drink freely, without price, of its clear, delicious and invigorating waters. He who disdains to accept the proffered sweets of this fountain of inestimable goodness, may thus be found : -See him with tyrant whip in hand. Lashing the willing horse, while every nerve Is on the utmost stretch, his pond'rous load To draw. When least offence is meant, deepest 81 He feels the smarting lash — trembles and groani— And knows not why this cruel chastisement : Again about his ears the vHe whip burns. With merciless ferocity, the Jiend (A better name for master) sweeps the lash, Until the noble steed falls on the earth In agony and fear. Mark well this dolt — In youth he tortured beast and bird, and mock'd When kind reproof was given. See yonder ox, Of gentle eye : — could he but speak, what tales Of cruelty he'd breathe. Deep in his sides The pointed wire, urged by his master's hand, Has found its way. Yon steers in bondage yoked Have felt full deep the cruel master's thrust, — And o'er their brow the season'd walnut goad Has spent its fury on the willing beast. Almost in frantic mood the tyrant roars, Nor deigns, e'en for his own kind ox to feel One spark of sympathy ! — No, no — with heart Untuned to feeling and with stupid eyes, He can behold, unmov'd, the gentle beast Writhe in his agony. — This, too, was he Who lov'd in youth to torture beast and bird. Anon we see him with the lash in hand Drawing from human form, from timid slave, The crimson gore, e'en while the galling chaini Clank round the wretch who pleads in vain For mercy. O, methinks I hear the sound 8 82 Of tyrant whip re-echoing through the glades And glens. — Methinks I see, snake-like, the whip Coil close about that dark-skin boy, who writhes And groans, while earth drinks in his blood profuse. No choz'd of sympathy can vibrate here : The fiendish master has no heart, Or if he has, 'tis stone. He too — mark well — He was that reckless boy who sought the woods. Not for the beauteous flowers, nor to behold Fair Nature's works, but to deprive the bird Of its young brood ; — to stop the linnet's breath ; To chase the timid hare. Without the badge Of death, he could not trace the glowing fields. His glory was to torture beast and bird, And every living thing. Ye guides of youth, Judge if this picture's of too dark a shade. O, while the twig is young and green, See that it's bent in careful mood ; So that in age it shall be seen, A stately tree, all fair and good. 88 SUIVOIER SCENES. WRITTEN BENEATH THE SHADE OF A FAVORITE OLt) ELM. Beneath this " ancient elm's Fantastic shade," upon the velvet grass, Where all is loveliness, I'll sit me down, And drink in rapture from the scenes around. Here Nature's music plays upon the ear, — No clashing sounds from horns, poured out by those Untaught iofeel, and far too dull to sigh — Or busy hum of city's din, distract My thoughts, — alone I muse in peace. The trees, All lovely, lift in air their branches high, And wide o'er fertile pastures' face extend Their curved elastic boughs — while zephyrs mild And sweet float lightly by, and gently fan The gay green leaves. Enchanting birds from bough To bough flit joyously. Earth's deep green hiUs And dales, are all o'ersprcad with radiant flowers Of various tints, exhaling sweet perfume — And blushing lovely, while bright sunbeams play From out the pearly clouds, and dance Upon their dewy leaves. The sighing breeze Of summer's morn glides smooth along, and stirs The fields of ripening grain, where insects sport, And hum their notes of praise. Now lightly skips the lamb From crag to crag, in merry glee along 84 The running crystal brook ; where near him site On hilly side, the shepherd — breathing soft Upon his silvery pipe, a favorite air. And thus, vrhile Sol's departing golden rays Are fading fast, and he is sinking far Behind the distant mountains' lofty peaks. The shepherd calls, with magic flute, his flocks — And as the evening shades advance, they wind With him their way o'er flowery pasture's tract To distant cottage yard, in safety kept, From fiends that prowl by night. ****** Oh, who upon the silken grass could stand. And gaze around upon the sparkling fields, Rich waving trees, and silvery brook, and all The glowing charms of smiling nature's face, And not indeed feel grateful to that Being Who, for man's pleasure, thus in beauty, life,. And love, the earth arrayed ? THE DYING BOY AFAR FROM HOME- Yes — it is so — I here must fall, Where it has been my fate to roam ; Oh, that my friends would hear my call, And Heaven would lend them wings to come. 85 Could I my mother dear behold, While on this fevered couch I lay ; How sweet to me she would unfold Her feelings, and how fervent pray. She's come ; — I see her watchful eye, I hear her mellow, soothing voice: Dear mother, do not, do not sigh, We've met once more — let us rejoice. Ha — 'tis a phantom— She's not here — Where am I ? — far, oh, far from home ! Around me all is dark and drear — No, no — my mother Jias not come- My brothers — sisters — where are they ? Again I think they're standing here ; Speak to me, friends — do not deUiy ; — My eyes are glazed — speak ! let me hear : Tis false ! my fever'd brain ! I dream ! They're gone ! my lips are parched and dry And from my bursting heart, a stream Is flowing, and I soon must die. My blood is trickling coldly now, And soon my pulse will cease to tell ; Death's seal is on my pallid brow, I faint — dear friends, farewell ! farewell ! 8* 86 SOUND THE ALARM TRUMPETS. Awake I artmse I Put on your armor, friends of man ! — come forth ! The tyrant, levelled once, revives again ; Behold him proudly waving in the air His blood-stained banners ; hear his demon yell — With brandished sword he dares you to the field. As a huge serpent, when the traveller's lance His vitals deep has pierced, darts to his den The wound to heal — revenge marked in his eye — So this insidious foe has stricken been, Aye, keenly too ; and though reluctant, mad in foam, With dark contracted brow, and lightning eye — Teeth in revenge firm set, and on his broad Unholy lips, low fiendish murmurs — down To his abode of blackness, breathing fire And shaking his satanic locks, he flew. Hard after him, with healiiig oil, In mighty train, followed the foes of God. They urge the monster to receive their aid — With eye assenting he looks up. They pour Into each burning wound the soothing oil — He gathers strength, and hastes again to wield The threatening, murderous steel. Now he has come, With energy redoubled, to assault Your peaceful homes, and spread dismay and death Throughout the happy bowers of calm repose. 87 Ye men of power — shall he on fiery car Advance ? Arise and meet the haughty fiiend. He comes to mingle gall with fountains pure — To foul the very air we breathe — to wield His iron sceptre over youth and age — To rob us of those sacred rights For which our fathers bled. He comes to cheat The poor man of his daily bread — to I'ob The trembling woman of her only child — To strip the orphan of his raiment — and decoy The wife, the child, the husband from their homes Of love. He comes to level with the brute, The " noblest work of God'! — aye, e'en the man Of learning, e'en the scholar in his pride. The virtuous, with the rude unlettered clown, Yield oft to his seductive gaze. And oh ! He comes to sport upon the graves of those Who long since fell, alas ! beneath the tyrant's Treacherous embrace ! He comes with lordly stride, to laugh When bosoms bleed, when tears of anguish flow. Virtue and law he scorns, — and with his high Uplifted arm, he bids the powers of earth Come forth, — and almost dares, from his high throne, The mighty God come down, such matchless pride To curb ! This blustering demon's name is hark! — Methinks ons deep and awful peal I hear, 88 As coming from earth's thousand sable tombs And from the great sea's dreary bed, millions Of voices, all in one grand unison, Exclaiming, as if awful thunder, pour'd Sublime from heaven's artiU'ry, lent its aid, Intemp'rance ! Intemp'' ranee I ! Intemp'rance ! ! .' Fill'd With the deadly venom of a serpent, By a train of fawning agents followed, Lo ! the haughty prince advances ! Shall he — O, ye fathers, who your sacred Word have pledged to come against the mighty, — Shall this fell destroyer march triumphant, With black banners to the breeze unfurled — say. Shall he march with scorn upon his brow. Untouched ? and Virtue's ranks retire amazed f Up, men of power, in solid phalanx up ! Take for the watch-word. Victory ! — and with firm And steady step the spoiler to lay low Resolved, advance — pour out )'our mental fire Upon the tyrant's head, disperse his ranks. One effort more, united, and you've slain The hydra monster, and the field is yours. 89 TO A FALSE FRIEND. Leave me, since thou hast riv'n love's chain, False one, of charms so bright ; Go mingle with earth's giddy train — For e'er I'll haunt thy sight. Perchance thou'lt roam where gems of gold Bedazzle fashion's bower ; E'en there shall memory unfold A tale of sad'ning power. The " irksome day " will o'er thee fling Clouds of a sombre hue ; And thou, as false as fkir, shall sin^, " I've wrong'd the heart 'twas true.'" Oft may thy harp shed music free, Sweet as when first we met ; But each soft tone shall stir in thee, Thoughts only of regret. FOR AN ALBUM. TO F. N. S. Ox a bright sunny morii, I hastened away To the fields and the evergreen bowers ; And I saw in my wand'rings, ('twas fair July's day, > A garden of exquisite flowersj 90 'Mong the gems of this garden a rose-bud appearo, With the morn's pearly dew on its face ; As it bhished I admir'd, and I felt myself cheer'd, While beholding its features of grace. By and by it expanded, delightful to view, Scattering incense profuse on the air ; And I sipped from its beautiful chalice the dew, Then retired while the scene was yet fair. Soon again I retraced my steps to the green bower. Into which I had gazed with delight ; But alas ! I perceived that the gay blooming flower Which I lov'd, was now fading from sight. It was dying, — ah, yes — the once bright dewy thing, Fell in fragments to earth, ere 'twas noon ; It had felt the rude touch of the " Terrible Bang !" And I sighed that it withered so soon ! I turned me around, and in sadness I said, What an emblem of man is this flower, — First budding, then blooming, next bowing the head< Sure, his dream of life is but an hour ! Like the rose, my dear friend, in its freshness thou art, Every feature is beaming with life ; I can see by these bright eyes that joy's in thy heart. While with beauty and health thou art rife. Need I say that the " Spoiler " must come, happy youth, Who will claim for himself all those charms ? In thy lone moments then, sometimes dwell on this truth, That thy heart may not fail at alarms. 9i When the faltering pulse slowly beats the sad tale, That thy hour of departure draws nigh, — May thy bright spirit leave then its tenement frail, And be wafted to mansions on high. THE RETURNED RING. Take back the ring I wore for thee ; The shining gem is worthless now ; It hath no magic charm for me — 'Twill mind thee of thy truthless vow. Oh! take it back — 'twas gift of thine When thou wcrt true, and life was fair ; No longer will I call it mine — False vows are mirrored in its glare. Yet I'll not murmur at my fate. Nor crave a passing thought of thee ; No ! calmly to the end I'll wait, To learn a false one's destiny. Then take the ring I wore for thee. It lends no inspiration now ; Nought in the cherished boon I see, But emblems of a broken vow. 92 BIRTH DAY REFLECTIONS. February 17, 1844. It is no dream — 'tis solemn truth— Another year expires to-day. ; Yet I am left to dream of youth, And feel I've sought not Wisdom's way. Swift as a meteor skims the air, The years are fading in the past ; Each moment whispers, man, beware ! The next brief hour may be thy last ! Oh, where are those we loved in youth — Who joyed with us 'mid summer bowers ? Sad mem'ry now unfolds the truth, Alas ! they are as withered flowers. Down to the tomb my thoughts are led; Where o'er those forms wild flow'rets wave : Soon must he mingle with the dead, Who chants a requiem o'er their grave. Resistless Time ! — oh, stay ! — 'tis vain — Nor prayers, nor tears will aught avail : Thine onward march we view with pain ; Thy touch we fear — thy loss bewail. But oh, in yonder golden clime. There is a home of endless joy ; No blight comes there by touch of time, — All, all is love without alloy. 93 THE SINGING BIRD'S APPEAL TO THE SPORTSMAN. I HAVE come from the sunny South's life-cheering bowers, Where the fig and the orange abound ; Where the light balmy zephyrs play o'er the sweet flowers And scatter their incense around. Once more I've returned to my dear native home, Where the lily and violet bloom ; Where the tall pines are waving, — here erst did I roam, And with song did I dissipate gloom. I have come to resume that sweet lay I must love, Which I caught in yon green shady wood ; Oh, sufTer me, sportsman, to praise Ilim above, Who is pleas'd to supply me with food. I have come now rude winter is gone, to rejoice That the beautiful summer is near ; To plead for the warblers of silvery voice, That no harm may befall them this year. I have come, laughing sportsman with gun and with hound. To chant a sweet lay e'en for thee ; Oh, say — wilt thou listen to music's soft sound, — May I weave thee a song, and go free ? The birds of the forest are all on the wing, — They are dreading thy merciless fire ; J plead for compassion — oh, spare us this spring, And we'll swell our notes higher and higher. 9 94: I'm but one of the many that joyfully sing 'Mid the bright blossom'd woods of this land ; Unto thee a light off'ring of music I bring ; Oh, let me not full by thy hand ! List— be not impatient, bold hunter — forbear — Nor spring the dark engine of death ; My little ones, now in the forest, oh, spare ! I must plead for them whilst I have breath. I'm a bird of this region — as plainly you see, I've returned with my nwites in good cheer ; We Grave but one boon, thoughtless gunner, of thee. Let us live to he joyful this year! TO A BEAUTIFUL ROSE, PRESENTED BY A YOUNG FRIEND. Fair image of beauty — sweet source of delight, How lovely thy features unfold to the sight ; With rapture I'll gaze on thy beautiful hue, And kiss from thy gay-tinted leaves- the soft dew. I'll drink the pure odor that mingles with air, As from thy sweet chalice it comes forth so rare ; And when I have done with thee, exquisite flower, I'll sing of the kind friend who plucked thee this hour 95 He cuird thee, bright gem, from yon sweet perfum'ti bower, And bade me acknowledge thy charms and thy power — An «mblem, he said, of his friendship for me. In each of thy quivering leaves I could see. Enough, — I believe, — and I very well know Thou'rt lovely,— and all do confess it is so, — But while on thy charms I am gazing, I'm sad — For soon thou in death's sable robes must be clad. Then — then in thy mouldering form I shall see An emblem of what I myself soon must be ; jMy path has been chequered and sorrow my lot; Ah ! soon I shall sleep, and like thee, be forgot. O Thou I at whose bidding the herb and the flower Spring into existence, to linger an hour — Accept for my friend, and for me the warm prayer, Tliat we may in Heaven our friendship declare. SUMMER. There's a charm in the name — 'tis a theme ever dear It can reach the heart's coldness and move it to love ; Tis a voice fraught with harmony, sweet to the ear, .As the music of seraphs sent down from above. 96 It recalls to fond memory bright youth's sunny liours When Joy twined her rose perfumed wreaths round tht- brow, Of the paths where in childhood I sought the sweet flowers, And cherished the gems as I do even now. There are scenes well remembered, too vividly bright To be spoil'd by the canker of manhood's deep care ; And the beautiful Summer I hail with delight, As I did when a child of gay, innocent air. I think of the groves and the flower spangled green, Where oft with my brothers and sisters I'd stray ; Where a mother's bright eyes, fondly watching have seen Her lov'd ones together,, in joy often play. And a fav'rite old oak, too, e'en now I can see. Which for ages hath laughed at the storm's fearful roar How rich was the pleasure, with hearts light and free, In its shade, as we sported on Nature's green floor. And the deep tangled grove, with its blossoms and birdS;^ Its fresh velvet moss, and its ivy-vines too ; Its musical rills, and the free roaming herds : This, this was the play-ground my infancy knew, Oh, Summer .' how joyous, how dear is the name ; I have said It can waken the spirit to love : The charms of bright summer are ever the same. (If the heart be not callous,) wherever we rove. The soft swelling zephyrs, the fields rife with flowers, The streamlets that sparkle adown the hill side ; The songs of gay birds in the sweet-scented bowers — Oh ! here is enjoyment no pen may deride. 97 CHANGES. On all things earthly, change is marked ; The seasons come and vanit:h, while we stand With sad lament, forgetting that we too, Frail things of time arc passing fast away ! The bud we saw of yester eve, bedew'd With genial drops from summer skies — to-day Has spread its folded leaves, and on the ground They're scattered — blighted — dead. The man of wealth Whose haughty stride told of a soul within, Narrow and hard, who paced but yesterday His carpet walks, and flowery meads, to-day, With eyes deep buried in his hands, falls low Beneath the humbling pressure of that arm Which abject poverty is wont to bear Hard down upon the sons of earth. All things are changing — not a tree, or flower Or blade of grass, or cloud that floats above. But wears each day, a difierent form or hue. The solid rocks that mock the howling storm. And look eternal, with the hills — they too, Though slow the process, change ; and time will oooie, When they must into countless atoms fall. Sun, moon and stars, in their unceasing round, In color, heat or cold, or brightness change. *9 98 But "what, throughout earth's wide domain, or high In yonder blue bespangled arch above, Is changeable as man ? Ah, here we pause ; Pause ere we sweep for him the gloomy lyre. Capricious man ! Moved round by every breath That fortune or opinion blows. To-day, With gracious smile, my neighbor takes my hand, And talks of friendship, love and heaven ; And one might think him kind and true of heart, Hating the thou(/hl of fickleness of soul ; But meet him on the morrow, and observe How dark a change hath come — he is your foe I That brow of light. Those smiles so bright. That generous hand. And voice so bland ; That neighbor kind, Of tuneful mind ; Yonr f7:i€Md s& hue^ Who thought of you So kindly on the yesterday, Now greets you like a thing of clay — Instead of bidding you good morn, He passes with a look of scorn f Friendship ! it is a pleasant sound, but oh ! How like a bubble is the cherished name. Change cometh over friends as on bright flowers — ■ Earth has no stable purpose. Heaven alone Ig true, and Jirm, and changeless. 99 ALVAH'S LAMENT. The Catholic parents of Zala, destroy the Protestant Alvah's hopes for their daughter, and in a favorite grove, he thus echos his lament: On joyous hours, Why must ye pass away, And leave uncheer'd This heart once light and gay. My bosom's fire — Ah ! must it idly burn, And I in vain Sigh o'er affection's urn ? Those golden walks, With Zala by my side. Her lov'd in vain, The young, affianc'd bride : Those blissful steps I shall no more retrace, And in yon bower Ne'er meet her genial face. Deep gloom o'ershadows my brow, And sadness stings my breast; My Zala comes not near, To give my bosom rest; Oh I peerless one, Life's now a gloomy sea, Existence drear, Reft of a star like thee. 100 SONG OF THE DECEIVED MAIDEN. Fate weaves a gloomy veil that I must wear; Oh ! drear suspense ! Why comes he not ? He knows I lonely wait his smiles to share. Is this a mystic dream — love I in vain ? Can he be false ? Oh ! he will come, Will come and dissipate my bosom's pain. Alas I hope's stellar ray is fading fast, — 'Tis hard to brook Neglect so keen — His vow hangs o'er me cold as wintry blast. He loves me not — gone is his heart astray, He will not come To claim his own, And yet in secret hours for him I pray. He mocks my grief, and I am left to die ; Phantoms are round, Hope's light is gone, Despair is flaunting near with haggard eye. Oh ! anguish, cease to sting my throbbing brow '. Oh, heart, arouse ! Life hath a boon, 'Tis sweet to pardon, and I bless him now. 101 THOUGHTS ON LEAVING HOME. O, I've dream'd — yes again and again have I dream 'd, Of the joys that are past — of the smiles that once beamM From the features of those who are silent and cold ; And I ask, is it weakness such tales to unfold ? " Recollections of tenderness" — moments of bliss; Oh, 'tis pain thus to muse — yet I cannot dismiss From my mind the sad thoughts, for a livlier theme — There's a mixture of pleasure with pain in the dream. But to dwell on the past is unwise, — it is vain ! When the present is racking my bosom with pain ; — Let me see if the picture I'm gazing on now, Will impart aught of light to illumine this brow. Ah, alas ! its broad dashes are heavy and deep, Yet,methinks I discern thro' the gloom, those who weep : They axe friends, and they know that a parting is near — That ihe " farewell" again is to fall on the ear. I'll approach the drear spot where those light forms re- cline, And respond to the heart which is throbbing with mine ,- I will breathe a fond prayer while I'm near those I love ; It shall be, that we meet in that bright land above. All around me is beautiful — yet all is dark — I again must launch forth on life's ocean my bark ; But she'll ride as she has done, — aye, safely she'll ride, Tht>ugh the pitiless storm in its wrath, lash her side. 102 But the pictuie ! 'tis wearing an aspect more bright, On its once dreary features there beams a sweet ligbt : I behold on its face nought of gloom — it is fair — Who can tell me what artist so kind has been there V Ah ! 'tis He ! — unto whom if we look as our guide, Through the dark storms of life we'll unflinchingly ride : Let us cease then our murmurings, cease to repine. For the Hand which has marked out our course, is Dlviue. THE CHARMS OF WINTER. At Nature's changeless laws I murmur not. Nor would I cast upon her page a blot ; But, pleasure from her ice and snow-clad mien My heart ne'er found, nor have my ejes e'er seen. Yet, winter brings us charms, (so poets say,) These charms I'll sing, in this, my chosen way : Take heed who hear, and rightly judge my song, Whatever was, or is, I do not chai-ge as wrong. Come boys, lash on your skates and gaily glide Adown the hill and o'er the frozen tide ; Mind how ye coast along the crusted bay, Else, heels in air, upon your backs you'll lay — Ah, ha ! — why heedless onward steer'd you so? Methinks your pates caught then a dreadful blow. Now lads, take care — there's no great prize to win, 103 Don't slide too near, there ! tliore ! you arc — broke in ! Oh, is'nt lovely, on a wintry day To scramble from a cool bath in the bay ! Out, swains and maidens, on your sleigh-ride gay. Tis winter now, sweeter than budding May ! See the bright trees, festoon'd all lily white. So rife with warbling birds ! oh, joyous sight ! The rills and streams, choked by the ice and snow, Chime smothered music, as swift on ye go. Old Boreas breathes fi-om out the darken'd sky — Fold close your mantles as he rushes by. Your muffs and furs snug to your faces hold, Else by the morrow you'll have taken cold. Take care, ye gallant ones, nor drive so swift, Lest ye o'erturn, and stifle in the drift I 'Tis midnight past, the sleigh bells tell the tale, Home speeds the group, half perished in the gale. # * * * * Open thy lattice maiden, list the lay — Some lover through the deep snow ploughs his way. And sings, " My boat is by the castle near" — " O come to me" it is so bright and clear, Bless with those eyes, ere far from thee T go ; In meriy come, V\n freezing down below. Snow-sloniis and tnusic, poch'i/ and ice ! As true tltin blend as virtue's flowers with vice. Ah, magic ]Viiiier with thy blcachcn locks, Thy fields look gay, but not with shepherds' flock? ; The woods are decked with shining, dazzling flowers. Who would not drink the halm of icc-loiirul bowers V 104 " Oh, I love winter" said a maiden fair Of radiant eyes and braided raven luiir ; " Dances so plenty are, and sleigh-rides too, I do love winter best, indeed I do !" For one full minute silence reigned about, I took my hat, and thought of going out. She ne'er had mus'd upon the real woe That winter brings to creatures here below. 'Tis bitter night — the sailor feels the blast, As up he climbs to reef the topsails fast. Gaze out, and note the ocean's sloimy wail, A ship all ice-locked snuffs the freezing gale. With shattered mast and canvass torn away, Careering low, she's driven througli the spray. And on the sharp rocks into atoms hurl'd — Her crew all lost ! wake in another world . While dancers gay are in the festive hall, And hear the outward din of hail and squall. They little think of seamen perishing. Whose piercing cries 'mid tempest bowlings ring. Ah, winter is a haggard, heartless sire. For him, ne'er will / string my humble lyre. 'Tis winter now, and many are the poor. Who feel the pangs of hunger, though on shore; Many there are who quaff the bitter bowl. Which "jointer fills, and stings the inmost soul. Oh, there are groups of honest, virtuous poor, Who oft through storms seek aid from door to door ; Numbers that lie on thin and shivering beds, With no kind hand to soothe their aching heads. 105 Ah, Winter ! with old visage grim, away ! For tJiee, I cannot weave a single lay. AVTien the keen North sends its benumbing breath, And seals the eyes of penury's child in death — And dooms the manner upon the sea, To chill and gasp along the rock-bound lea — Oh, wake the sympathetic chord within. The thoughtless^ selfish heart no heaven can win. Amid the bowers of mirth, 'twere well to think Of those who fearful hang o'er danger's brink ; Of those that fortune leaves far, far behind, Trembling and hungering in the wintry wind. No, no — not I will ever tune my lyre. In praise of stormy Winter, heartless sire ! Let all who choose, of charming Winter dream, My humble lyre wakes not to icy theme. ODE FOR -V SUNDAY SCHOOL RURAL CELEBRATION. WiTHiK this leafy bower, so cool. Away from noise and care. We come, friends of the Sunday School, To breathe the balmy air. We come with harps attuned to sing. Where summer birds are gay ; And 'neath this rui'al shade wc bring A joyful feast to-day. 10 106 The earth all o'er is green and bright — Around us blooming flowers ; The festoon'd trees are waving light^ And happy hearts are ours. A crystal spring is by our side, With waters gushing free ; In that clear fount we may confide, No drink more Y>nre can be. Our snowy tents are pitched around, — The social board is laid ; And gladsome feet hie o'er the ground. Within this pleasant glade. Oh, what with joy like this can vie ? 'Tis pleasure free from stain ; The youth, and all that linger by, Join in a tuneful strain. Bland voices float ujion the breeze. Mingling with music's sighs, And sweetly echo through the trees, As up to heaven they rise. Angels, methinks, are smiling now. Upon this festive hour ; Joy unalloyed is on each brow Within this sylvan bower. Oh, may not this a foretaste be Of brighter scenes above, Where spreads the smooth unruffled sea Of glory and of love ; A land of dewy lawns and flowers, And ever-blooming youth. And music sweet, and fragrant bowers, For all that love the truth. 107 TO A MINIATURE OF THE DEPARTED. Jewel more dear than pearls and gold, Bright impress of the lov'd and lost ; Thee to my bosom will I fold "While on life changeful sea I'm tost. Dear image of a soul refined, There's inspiration in thine eyes ; And on those lips seem whispers kind, Like soothing music from the skies. I gaze upon thy features fair Till fancy paints a breathing glow ; Thy smile then dissipates my care, And frees my breast from every woe. Thy voice seems raised in seraph song And sweetly echoes in mine ear ; Oh, heart, deem not my fancy wrong, Still would I dream that voice I hear. 108 THE IMPULSIVE MAIDEN. One of the bright and careless daughters of earth, in a moment of mental hallucination, suffered her beautiful long black hair to be cut off short. The occasion at once suggested the following lines. I SAW a girl of glowing cheek And flowing ebon hair, Dancing along but yesterday As though she knew no care. She ope'd a pair of radiant eyes As Egypt's maiden black, With laughing lips that could invite And then repel attack. I heard her voice upon the breeze As others oft have heard, And o'er the earth with merry song She flitted like a bird. But that which bade my eyes admire, (I never shall forget,) Was her long, glossy, beauteous hair, Black shining as a jet. Ah, now my heart must sadly moan And tell its gloomy tale : Tell what to-day near struck me dumb. And made me ashy pale. 'Twas this — the youth of wildered brain, Of summers, sweet sixteen. Hied reckless to a barber's room And in his chair did lean. " Now, as though all her senses fled And phantoms held her charmed, 109 She urged the sable shearer by, To " cut, — not be alarmed." lie feigned, or it may be he felt A sympathy for her, And asked the maiden fair, to pause : Siie bade him not demur. Says he, " Then, lady, I'll obey ; Old shears, now do your duty ; — There ! laughing Miss, your hair is gone. And with it, half your beauty!" Oh ! had I stood within the reach Of the bewildered fair, I'd smote the hand which held the shears, And overturned her chair. Methinks I see in yonder sky, Two beings looking down, And hear their deep and blending sighs, And see their keener frown : — Sighs for the giddy orphan child, Lost parents oft caressed ; And frown? for him who clipped her hair, At the school girl's refjuest. Laugh, laugh Zimena, if you will. At thy imprudence rare, But oft in secret thou wilt sigh And iceep for thy lost hair. Long years must come and pass away Before those tresses growing. Can bid bright eyes gaze and admire, That they are full and flowing. *10 110 ON THE SUDDEN DEATH OF MISS E. F. P. This amiable youuf!; lady — a member of our " choir," and one of my pnplls in music — left her home, in Ports- mouth, to visit distant frienils for a few weeks. Illness suddenly came upon her, and she soon expired. " Silent as thou art. Lost one ! thou livest still." Struck by the blast, in all her charms The hopeful maiden bowed and died ; And now, within his icy arms. Death claims her for his youthful bride. With health and beauty on her brow. And hope and joy in every breath. She did not dream that she should bow So early to relentless death. A thought so blighting, dark, and drear. To youth can ne'er be welcome guest ; — She knew not the corroding fear That soon in deep, cold grave she'd rest. And when she bade a last farewell To friends and schoolmates kind and dear, They little thought her funeral knell Would sudden ring upon the ear. Alas ! she never can return, To mingle with the joyous throng ; Her young, full heart has ceased to yearn For pleasures which to earth belong. Ill No more, below, she'll strike the lyre, While hearts delighted hover near ; Nor join in praises with the choir That long will hold her mem'ry dear. Wc gaze upon the vacant seat. And list in vain her voice to hear ; Warm pulses swift and swifter beat, While fancy lirings the lost one near. Oh ! what must be that mothei-'s grief. While thinking of her clay-cold child I No human aid can give relief — How can her heart be reconciled ? Life's glowing star of joy is gone — The fair lone daughter of her love ; And bathed In burning tears, forlorn, The mourner hopes for aid above. E'en 'mid her grief and blighting care, Comes on the breeze a soothing tone, Like angels, whispering in the air : " Cease, grief-worn mother, cease thy moan. How sweet the hope, and cheering, too. To think the lost we'll meet again, In purer clime, where all is true. Whore youth, and joy, and beauty reign. 112 THE ESCAPE FROM FIRE. 'TwAS midnight, past — All eyes fast closed in balmy sleep — no step Was echoing near, no guardian sentinel. Dim stars seemed weeping in the arch above While they looked down upon th' unconscious world, Still as the grave around. -The festoon'd trees Quaff'd the soft dews, but not a moistened leaf Moved in the air, so calm the night. But ah ! Beneath the roof destruction lurked, kindling To spread dismay. Near by the hidden fire. So bent to free itself in dismal wrath. Profoundly sleeping, a young mother lay. With fond arms clasped about her infant babe. The fearful flames now break in fury forth — Scorch and threaten — and their lurid glare Portentous falls upon the dreaming ones, While yet, unconscious, calmly they dream on. Still no human aid aroused ; — the blaze Pours on the sash, burns the dry wood, and snaps The brittle glass. — Her ear has caught the sound, — The dreadful hiss and crackling glass, alarm — She wakes, amid the din, feels the hot air, Shrieks " fire !" and firmly grasps her nestling child, And with it to her bosom pressed, o'erleaps The fated stairs, and through the smoky rooms Flees from the raging element. It spreads. It madly rages. — Now the happy home, 113 The cheerful dweUing, blazes wildly forth, The red, relentless flames tower to the sky, And crash on crash the burning timbers fall. The scence is o'er, that once devoted home Is changed to desolation. AVARICE. ITS INFLUENCE ON THE HEART. Written while confined by sickness. Smitten with illness on lone couch I lay, Counting the slow and dreary hours away ; Themes worthy of reflecting pen pressed on my mind. Thick as the stars, of varied worth and kind. I seized on Avarice, the soul's dire foe, Xor would I let the haggard monster go. Fast to my will, chained I the rebel down, So he might feel the pressure of my frown. Now, fiend, from deepest glens of Hades sent, ' Hoar what hath in my bosom long been pent. Thou art the mildew of life's beaming star. An idiot giant poised on flaming car ; Stretching thy lank, lean arm the globe all o'er, Crying, as yearns the grave-yard, give, give more ! 114 In vain the stormy sea ingulfs thy bark, Thy pirate prow e'en scorns her caverns dark : The lurid furnace melts the stubborn steel, But at thy gaze hot lava streams congeal : The sword hath pierced the steel-clad warrior through. Thy scaly self resists the keen lasso : The battering mortar shakes the mightiest walls, Yet thou canst brave the hissing cannon-balls: The heaven-tuned harp moves not thy leaden soul ; Angels would fail to fire the Artie pole : The eloquence out breathed by Paul of old Wert worth to thee not one light grain of gold : He who once wore the crown of piercing thorns. Felt pangs through thee, black demon thick with horns. Though sea drown not, nor wild fire melt thee down. Nor sword nor lance pierce thy satanic gown ; Though music fails to wake thy miser ear, And eloquence draws from thine eye no tear ; Though penary, nor orphan's earnest prayer. Or widow's tear bestir in thee no care : Though virtue pine beneath thy eager thrust, Know, there's a God who'll crush thee in the dust. Go now, grim demon Avarice, away ! Ungrateful theme for further thoughts to-day. 115 JERUSHA CARTER, AND HER CHOSEN FLOWER. Married in Weld, Me. March 2, 1811, Mr. M.vtthi.vs Skeet- vp, (gentleman of color,) to Miss Jeuusiia Cakter, (white lady,) both of Carthage. Jerusha, oh ! Jeruslia Carter, Ebon Skeetiip's peerless bride ; You've signed the all important charter, Thy bark is on life's hopeful tide. Say, did thy mamma back the scheme ; Or was't thy blushing lover's vow, That led thee to such blissful dream ? Fly hither, fair one, tell me now. Alas ! how many hearts must ache, When they have learned the thrilling story : Oh ! why, fair damsel, didst thou take A theme so dark for future glory ? Jerusha reasoned, (I dare think,) " Variety's the spice of life ;" And straightway to her sable Pink, Voiced she would be his loving wife. As now cfiulgent morning breaks, The bride starts up from love to duty, Hastens to make some griddle cakes. While in sweet dreams she's left her beauty. Oft times had roamed Jcru.sha, fair. Through gardens with bright roses dressed ; Seeing one day a Poppy rare, She cried, I love this flower the best ! 116 SLANDERERS. I'd leave dull oirh, that know no better lay, To hoot their meaii and worthless lives away : Did I say owls f too precious are those birds, To rank among the groveling slanderer herds. I'd leave the vultures to their vicious taste, Rioting on innocence with greedy haste : Did I say vuhures? oh, wild bird, forgive. Better with you than with defamers live. Ye old and young hyenas lurking nigh, Feast on your prey till ye swell up and die ; Growl, yell, and tear the kids and lambs apart. It well becomes ye of the fiendish heart. And have I named liyenas with the throng ? Sure I would do those brutes no studied wrong ; They are but wild dogs of the forest shade. Thirsting for blood, as nature hath them made. But oh ! those prowling fiends in human form, Whose breath outvies the hliglit of wintry storm : Whose adder tongues their own foul hearts betray. Take from my sight such haggard forms away ! Come gloomy owls, and bats, and vultures too : Hyenas, jackalls, I've no fears of you : Come foxes, catamounts and tigers fierce. Ye tear the^/?es7(, but ne'er the soul can pierce. 117 And shall we fear the flaunting gossip^s eye, Or tremble if a slanderer's tongue be nigh ? No ! gibbering wretches of the vampire fang. Who sink below the vicious canine gang, Strive to despoil, nor heed the golden rule. And know vou're rated far beneath a mule. DIVERSITY OF OPINION AND INDEPEN- DENCE OF THOUGHT. There are, perhaps, few subjects of a nature re- (juiring close investigation, upon which men do not or would not form some difference of opinion. This fact is no marvel, when men are viewed in their true nature. There is among human beings, as much difference of sentiment as there is variety of form and complexion. It cannot be denied that men differ essentially in ge- nius, talent, moral goodness, education and manners. Hence, a man may he a man, in the most favorable sense of the word, or he may he no man at all. This seeming parodox is explained In the fact that some Ml from dignity and respect, by allowing themselves to lose sight of the position they should occupy in the scale of Intellectual, and moral beings. It ought to be the aim of every individual, to qualify himself to do his oicn tJiinking and draw his own inferences from the actions of men and events of life, instead of becoming a mere machine, to be used at the pleasure of smiling hy- pocrites and fawning sycophants. But seeing there are thousands culpably or otherwise incompetent to judge for 11 118 themselves— tlieir superiors take from tliem the perogs- tive, and lead them, like thoughtless mules, just as ikn- cy and self-interest may dictate. They have often led away from the right track those "who were so unfortunate or mean as to depend entirely upon the decision of their artful leaders. Even in the present age, so rife with advantages for general intelligence, dupes may every day be seen, standing with wondering eyes and cra- ven hearts, ready to move this way or that, just as the aro-uments of a popular speaker shall incline them, — making little or no eifort to investigate and pass judg- ment for themselves upon subjects concerning the wel- fare and happiness of man. It is a singular fact that some men require a whole life- time to decide questions, of which nine school-boys out of ten would, after thirty minutes' consideration, give a true decision. Some, more than other men, are fond of argument and opposition, and often discuss topics In pub- lic, which, for reasons best known to themselves, they seldom or never touch upon in private life. Yet, not- withstanding the various positions which men occupy In society — the circumstances and influences of the world, which often render an expression of correct thought entirely unpopular — and the variety of mind in human beino's of both sexes, there are moments In life when bick- ering and cavilling flee away, and all minds sec through the same true glass, and come at once to one and the same conclusion. Let us be visited by a violent and protracted shock of an earthquake, and very few civi- lized beings would then dissent from the belief that the religion of the bible alone is fully adequate to sustain us in such hours of dismay. Go traverse the mighty 119 h, how shall 'reft ones find relief, 'Mid death''s cold, ghastly glare. Spirit, that oft in music's tone, Breathed joyous all the day : Oh soul, that pure and modest shone. We miss thy chering ray. Lost one — nurtured by care and love, Of sixteen summers bright ; Thou heard'st a whisper from above — Soul, upward wing thy flight. Fair maid, obliging, kind and true, Of voice and manners bland : To thee pure joys have dawned to view, In the bright spirit land. 139 UNCERTATNTr OF HAPPINESS. The stern book of experience every day lays open its beclouded pages, that we may draw frequent and useful lessons therefrom. Fate's relentless pen has indelibly written upon one page these significant words, "passing away." Yet there seems to be a shining hand in the bright prospective beckoning us onward — and our fancy disposes us to the belief that no darksome shadows will obscure our high hopes in the clear circlet of life's future sky. Imagination now is wont to soar among the joy-lit scenes which we suppose to be in store for us : alas ! too often proving but a hopeless dream. We imagine the picture to be just what we would have it, but our imper- fect menial eye deceives us, as the natural eye is deceived in striving to identify objects wholly beyond its limited power of vision. We gaze upon a distant landscape with delighted eyes, and enraptured bosoms. The heart wildly throbs at the thought of approaching the beautiful spot. There seems a cottage o'ershadowed with brightly blos- somed woods. Around the door the tall ripening grass seems waving to the gentle summer gales. The trees and shrubbery flowing in bright silken sheen, seem to invite us to their refreshing shade and fragrance. Spark- ling flowrets on the hills around exhale their perfume on the air. Life, health, happiness and beauty appear to be established upon this distantly surveyed spot. But it is a dim and far oiT view, and in proportion as the limited capacity of our optics fail to discern the entire truth, we call on fancy to complete the scene. On a nearer approximation to the supposed charming 140 landscape what do our eyes in truth behold ? The cottage we had taken to be a dwelling, comfortable and elegant, proves, to our astonishment, a lonely, shattered hovel. Its inmates, whose imagined ease and affluence we may have envied, are but the objects of penury, and degra- dation. The very apartments, within whose supposed quiet and sweet atmosphere we longed to repose, are only fit places for the swine that are rooting about the dilapi- dated premises. The land around is uncultivated, bear- ing the impress of poverty, intemperance and indolence. There are no bright and perfumed flowers to lend a charm to the picture. The grass is thin and parched, and the entire scene which we had fancied so inviting, on the near approach proves a repulsive and mortifying delusion. In gazing thus upon the picture I have here attempted to present to the imagination, we find in our mistaken view, life's disappointments and mortifications vividly illustrated. Although there are innocent pleasures and delights on earth, they are of uncertain duration. Every intelligent mind is more or less familiar with the illusions of the world. Yet who shall say it is not well that " there is a hand in the cheerless vista of life forever beckoning us onward.?" Our error lies in building too confidingly upon hopes which so often prove unsubstantial and evan- escent. We naturally look forward in life with glorious anticipations of lasting friendship and love, agreeable and successful pursuits, and unalloyed happiness : but alas how often are such anticipations chilled into icy hopeless- ness by human deception, unrequited affection, grief and blighted promises, rising up before us like spectral images, to mock and tantalize our yearning, hopeful hearts. Hence the importance of solid preparation to meet suc- cessfully, emergencies so common and so serious. 141 BIRD-KILLERS. O ! THAT I were some giant bird, With claws and poignard beak, — rd fix tbem deep, without a word, Into the gunner's cheek. And had I wings of iron nerve, Like eagles', bold and strong, Eager in battle, I would serve To smite the sportsman throng. Or e'en a smaller bird I'd be, With ever-pointed bill ; Ne'er more should heartless gunner see, — Into his eye I'd drill. A thousand vultures' strength Td crave. With condors' daring wing, So I could grasp the idle knave Who'd shoot a harmless thing : Then would I soar to clouds on high, Nor heed his wail or wo ; But softly whisper : " Friend, good bye," And drop him down below. So soon as feathered minstrels sing, The hateful gunners start ; And through the grove their rities ring, Tearing bright birds apart. 13 142 Shame, on the selfish, cruel soul. Who seeks the Summer-ground,. Like fiend sent out on dark patrol. To scatter death around. O ! that I were some fleet-winged bird. With claws and fearful beak, — I'd fix them deep, without a word, In heartless gunner's cheek. , TO THE HUTCHINSON FAMILY- IMPROMPTU. Sing on, sing on, nor hush those strains- That lend the weary spirit rest ; No plaint from bright Italia's plains Could wake more rapture in the breast. O ! sweep again the soothing lyre, And we'll forget earth's busy din ; Sing, minstrels, with Promethean fire : Such tones ne'er fail the heart to wia. And must ye murmur, deep and low, The saddening strain — the last adieu ? Then, minstrels, if 'tis even so, Health, joy, go every where with you. 143 THE WELCOME MESSENGER AT SEA. Sug£^csted on seeiiicr a small, lone, beautiful bird alight on the quarter-rail of the ship Isaac Newton, twenty leagues from land, while on a passaae to New Orleans, in Nov. 1837. Adapted to the air of the" Carrier Pigeon." Bright bird of the land of my childhood, I welcome, thrice welcome thee here ; — But why leave the charms of the wild wood, To wander where all is so drear ? •Come nearer — I'll call thee my own one, Thou bird of the plumage so fair; No harm shall befall thee, thou lone one ; I'll guard thee with kindness and care. Did'stthou leave friends at home, kindly dreaming Of him now upon the blue sea ? On their features was hope brightly beaming, When thou whispered of coming to me ? No answer ?— Then weave me some story Of my home and my own greenwood bower ; Sing of voices, high-swelling in glory — I will think of those voices, this houn Ah ! still is thy silence unbroken ? From thee can I learn no fond tale ? Take 'neath thy soft wing, then, a token, And homeward speed with the fair gale; Point thy beak to the North, tiny rover, And search out my own native land, Where, should'st thou fair Ida discover, My token leave sure in her hand. 144 Now hence, wing thy way o'er the ocean — Nay, lisp not, nor dream thee of fear ; But haste ! haste ! on wings of quick motion, To tell my lov'd friends I am here. — The bird on light wing now is floating Along the clear sky, with delight ; Still on him my fond eyes are doting — Ah ! now is he lost to the sight. THE SPIRIT-VOICE TO THE INEBRIATE. I HAVE come with a message of love, mortal, To avert thy impending doom ; Then list to a voice from above, mortal. And escape yonder valley of gloom. I charge thee, forsake the dark bowl, mortal, By its poison thy locks have grown grey ; And ah ! it has injured thy soul, mortal, — Come, reject it, and choose Virtue's way. In her path not a thorn wilt thou find, mortal, But roses of beauty are there ; Thou shalt have pearls and gems to thy mind, mortal. If thou'lt spurn the gay bowl's deadly snare. From the demon that tempts thee, oh ! think, mortal^ If In darkness thou wish not to plod ; Of thy state and thy danger, oh ! shrink, mortal — Think of self, of thy friends, and of God. 145 HABIT. Habit is a consumintr fii'^i in which we blindly or madly run, and are either devoured by its flames, or so keenly scorched as to fuiil it (lillictdt to procure an anti- dote for the smart. Perhaps there is no one wholly ex- empt from its subtle influence- It stealthily finds way to our hearts, and often before we are aware of the fact it has there deeply fastened its fangs. The diamond-crowned monarch and the meanest slave that quails beneath his frown ; the clo(|uent statesman, and the coachman at his call ; the dignified judge on the judiciary bench, and tl;e culprit in irons, are alike often helpless in tlie iuiplaeable grasp of habit. Men of high station and of powerful intellect, have become degraded and ignobly peiished beneath its terrible oppression. What a startling picture of its melancholy power is ex- hibited in the man who oilers a daily oblation at the 6hrine of Bacchus! If there is nne more degrading and disastrous in its consequences than all the rest of the train of bad habits, it is that of using ardent spirits as a bever- age. Here is the stupendous lever which raises the iron- featured demon Vice to so ])roniinent and daring a posi- tion in the world. This sin alone has called down from heaven repeated and most severe chastisement upon th«'. human race ; the great globe itself for a long time ha.s seemed to groan benejtth the ponderous weight of the towering and mighty car of desolation. Even in this enlightened age, in spite of a powerful opposition, *13 146 its ponderous wheels are still crushing to dust millions of human beings, and causing the earth to tremble to its very centre. Kiots, contentions and devastating wars are nourished by the dense vapors that rise up from the foaming and boiling cataract of intemperance. The gorgeous trapping and dazzling tinsel of this talis- man of darkness and death, divert the attention from the flower-enamelled path of virtue. The artful invader of peace and happiness h.angs out his torch-light of delusion, and man — althongli endowed with discriminating capaci- ty — spreads his canvass to the breeze, and v^-ith strange infatuation stands at the helm of his own frail vessel, pur- suing his course toward the red glare of deception. The deluded bark, with Increasing and fearful rapidity, flies on toward tlie magic light-honse, which, like a bewilder- ing phantom, farther antd farther recedes, until its last flickering ray departs — leaving the misguided helmsman on a black and rough ocean, in the mazes of ebon night. The dreadful cheat is perceived too late to escape the roaring and remorseless Maelstrom of destruction, — And swiftly down the awful whirlpool's tide The bark Is hurried, with its hapless guide ; And of the wreck, no vestige floats to show Where all is lost in the abyss below. Thus, faintly portrayed, Is the all-pervading power of habit. It steals upon us like a wily serpent, to fasten its fangs deep In the vitals. Once firmly in its grasp, how difficult to throw off the heavy, galling yoke. Let him who is wont to risk an occasional sip of the delusive, bewildering cup of contaminating habit. In any form, take heed In season. Above all, let us shun- 147 forever, the treacherous smiU? of the ruby wine, lest we unconsciously lofe our balance, and go Avith the sweeping current over tlie high and shuddering cliff, Adown the dark and drear abyss, Where hope comes not to promise bliss. GRIEF. " A wounded spirit, who can bear.'' As a lone leaf in Autumn hour, Hangs trembling in the blast — So this lone spirit feels the pow'r Of misery o'er it cast. Oh 1 heart, though smitten low, be still, Or soon this pulse must cease ; Once more, sweet hope, this bosom fill. Aad give my spirit peace. Alas I grief-striken and forlorn. Is doom'd this panting soul ; Hope's light, that shone, forc'er is gone- Fate's billows o'er me roll. As a lone leaf in Autumn day, Hangs trembling in the blast. So sinks the heart down to decay, When hope's bright star is past. 148 THE LEARNED PIG. Suffffestecl on see'ineats the pitiless storm, if its personified importance be comfoi'tably sheltered. It will keep a faithful mastiff to guai'd its interest, but never think of that creature's necessary requirements. It will destroy the sweet song.. sters of the forest, because its poisonous self is dead to music and to the beautiful — caring for none else oq earth. It will drive a willing and noble steed till he falls and dies, to gratify its love for riding. It despises the poor man, because it discovers no chance from the cir- cumstances to gain anything by him. It courts the favor of rich men, and will grovel in the dust at their feet, if it but clearly sec that the play will come out in its own fa-^ vor. It coldly views its neighboi's submerging in the tur'. 183 bid waters of adversity, without extending a hand of re- lief, lest its darling interest in some measure be at stake. It matters not wlio sinks to the bottom, if its own shal- low, clumsy bark float on with prosperous gales. Jt would strangle the beautiful dove of Noah, to gratify it? epicurean palate. It would rob the sanctuary of ite sacramental plate, to squander away for its voluptuous indulgence- It would lay a city in ashes, to gratify ite passion for a conflagration. It would stigmatize talent and genius, and rob industry and innocence of existence, rather than lose one gem from the gaudy coronet upon its contracted brow. It can gaze upon agony and death with stoic eyes, if the end of that scene brings a legacy for its unholy yearnings. Ah I take from my sight mean selfishness away. It blights the beauty of life's fairest day. 184 DEFAMERS OF CHARACTER. " Tliose that make Envy and crooked malice, nourishment, Dare bite the best." [^Shakspere. Ye of the vampire tongue and meagre brain, Who bask and fatten on the forms you've slain, Who magnify your neighbors' faults abroad To please the Dark One — not to serve the Lord — Come from your hiding-places, to the view : Behold your hateful selves, in mirror true ! Look at the flaunting gossip all the day, 111 whose seared bosom burns no kindly ray ; She 's left in shameful plight her sleeping-room, To seal, perchance, her honest neighbor's doom. — And those who quaff the breath of tatler's voice, Are fit companions — the traducei-'s choice. Hung by one rope, high dangling in the air, I'd laugh to sec defamers, pair by pair ! No matter what the sex — some are called men, Who oft'times are as brainless as a hen — Hang them, too, if they aim a murderous blow. High with the withered gossips, for a show. No sex, or age, or rank of blood, or state, Of blighting tongue, should 'scape our righteous hate. Long since below would man a heaven have found, Had Hades held its monsters firmly bound; But from its cavern's wrathy, blue, hot fire, All over earth are scattered demons dire. 185 Tlic mean, suspicious, mischief-inahing dolt, In harm outvies the storm or thunderbolt. O I all ye limping, meddling, heartless mules, Who wilful act the part of sneaking fools ;— You who at home leave duties meanly done, And after news and scandal daily run ; — Ye without culture, and of evil heart, — Filchers of character— aci your vile part : But think of that dread hour when Hades' knell Shall summon you to come therein to dwell ! 186 AGAIN IS SUMMER HERE " Come see what pleasure in the fields abound, The woods, the fountains, and the flow'ry ground, Here could I live." [Dri/ifen. Sweet Summer now is here ; And every tree and flower, And all things of the glad green earth Rejoice to own her power. We have not sighed in vain, To meet the maiden fair, Of spicy breath, and smiling eye, And flowing, silken hair. She comes arrayed in gems. Of varied form and shade ; She comes with garlands on her brow. Which God's own hand hath made. Each leafy bower is full Of her gay minstrel birds ; And all the verdant vales and hills Are rife with grazing herds. Up from the dreaming couch, Ye swains and maidens, rise, Nor wait till Sol peeps o'er the hills ; Full soon morn's beauty flies. Haste to tlie sparkling fields, And gather flow'rets there ; Gay summer will not— cannot stay- Seek now her jewels rare, 167 Wrtke early, e'er the sounds That charm, shall fade away : Wake once at dan-n, and hear each bird Chanting its joyous lay. From every bush and tree, (}ay notes of music rise. Melodious on the incensed air, Up to the azure skies. D^t, then, from languid couch. Ye swains and maidens rise, Nor linger till the sun is up ; Too soon morn's beauty llios. Haste to the blossom'd wood-*, And qnaflfthe fragrant air : Bright summer will not — cannot itav — Oh, seek her Ireasurch nire. 188 ON RICHES. Upon tlie varied pages of the world's great book is found this thrilling text : " Get riches — honestly and honorably if possible, — nevertheless, get riches." To be rich, does not necessarily imply virtue and great- ness ; any more than to be poor necessarily implies the opposites, vice and meanness. Yet from the general con- duct of many of the human race towards the two classes, the unavoidable inference is, that such is their belief. " Get riches ! " Yes, a full and dazzling purse is the world's magic light-house, emitting peculiar and attrac- tive rays of fascination. Keep but within the influence of its stellar beams — hold fast at will, the shining keys of its glowing chambers : then the storms of enmity and fate may rudely blow o'er life's broad ocean, and safe from harm will ride our daring bark — so hints the text. Before the time-worshipped portal of this little magic licfht-house, garlands intertwined with flowers of fame and honor have been, are still and ever will be thrown in rich profusion, by the devotees of Mammon. Why should soft lieavenly dews descend upon the pleasant garden-spot of Fancy, or the mind be stored and bowed with v»isdom drawn from Nature's open book and from the classic hall, Avhen in the gaudy bowers of wealth alone, high fame, intrinsic merit, love and virtue fold their silken pinions ? There is stealing o'er my senses now a voice outcrying : " What care I, though in a nut- sheWs chamber my whole brain find ample rocm to dance about, while yonder heads of wealth are mine ? " AnoQ 189 J lioar Miiothor voice outcrying : " Toll not mc of lofty gifts Avitbin, nor talk of crossing seas and scaling Alpine hills to pluck the flowers of knoAvledge, Avhile upon the track, hai'd after mc, the haggard phantom Penury is seen." O ! how little lionest breath of courtesy, or love, or favor, comes to kiss that brow where the proud charmer Gold, has k'ft no radiance. Hence it would seem that from our infancy we should be taught the best mode of courting successfully the peer- less goddess Wealth, for sure it must appear that in its untold virtues is (livulgcd the mystery of man's creation, aim and end. Therefore, in the faith of such a noble maxim, I would say : Give me great riches, and although but one idea live within my pigmy brain, and that idea venture never higher than my selfish breath can rise — give me but riches, and the world's gay ci'owd shall " dofF their bea- vers" when I loom up in the fog of life's deceptive morn- ing. " And more than this : I will attract profound at- tention from the stupid clown, the scholar, statesman, king, and win the favor, smiles and love of channing fe- male hearts, when I shall speak, though all I say be senseless as the ''ibberinsf of a maniac. 190 PASSING AWAY. Ni(jJu's tlroary cui'tains nre withdrawn, And o'er tlie lakes and dewy lawn 'Morning outflings its rosy light. And earth appears in beauty bright. The song-bird's note floats on the breeze In magic sweetness, through the trees ; While in the meadow, fresh and green, The lamb and kid at play are seen. S^viftly, on golden chariot, flies The sun, toward mei'Idian skies, Till In the radiant beam of day Sweet morning hides its smile away. Noontide outpours Its melting rays, And panting herds refuse to graze ; But morn and noon have swiftly passed. And o'er us ecen/rt^y-sliades are cast. Dig, like a spirit fond and true, Departing, waves a sad adieu ; And huri-ies, with electric flight,-^ Hiding its charms In ebon night. Thus, lights and shades and all things pass, While ruthless Time holds ont his glass ; Ambition, fame, and honor, too, Ephemeral are as morning dew. 191 Bright Summer wings herself away, Leaving her gems to sad decay, She bore us balm from Ceylon's isle^ — Alas ! how fleeting was her smile ! ***** See Friendship near, with graceful hand, Writing fair tales upon the sand ; The waves of Impulse lash the shore — Her promises we read no more. See Love, with sweetly-winning voice, Forsake its fond and happy choice. And flit away, on fickle wing, To sip at some new-gushing spring. See gorgeous palaces and towers. And dazzling thrones and gilded bowers, And pyramids that pierce the sky — In Time's remorseless grasp they die. Soe kindred ties torn by the blast, In Death's dark whirlpool rudely cast ; Amid the storm, sad wailings hear. Of breaking hearts that cluster near. Oh ! 'tis the tempest passing by, Sent by Jehovah from the sky ; Deep wisdom guides the blighting storm That chills the blood, once gushing warm. The fiat of th' Eternal One, E'er suns their round had scarce begun, Went forth, creating dire dismay — • That " Heaven and earth should pass away. 192 O, Spirit ! O, immortal mind ! Look heavenward, fadeless joys to find ; Let earth and all else j^ass away — The soul hopes on, for endless day. ERRATA. In ;^lancing over the sheets since they came from press, the following errors have been discoTered. There arc some othci3 which are not deemed worthy of notice. Page 21st, in the first line add " glorious" hefore morning — in the last verse, for " doso' read " doze." " 2oth, Gth verse, for "sweet home" read " sweet hours. " 30th, 17th line, for " him" read " he." " 6oth, 16th line, for " threatening skies" read " shooting spray." " 83d, 20th line, for " their deW7" read "the dewy." " 89th, 17th line, for " sunny morn" read "sunny morning." " 90th, 2.3d line, for " these" read " those." " 99th, 1st line, 3d verse, for " o'ershadows" read " o'er- shade." " 103d. 2d line, for " is'nt lovely" read " is'nt it lovely." " 188th, last line, for " heads" read " heaps." C- ^ LIBRARY OF CONGRESS ■■lllllllllli l, , 015 971 687 9 T \''\ Miff ,. V, ''(ty^ Im4