a^se^ 
 

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 Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year ISGO, 
 
 BY nOWAED -WADTW-EIGHT, 
 
 In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the 
 
 Southern District of New York. 
 
THIS LITTLE VOLUME OF 
 
 RHYMINGS 
 
 S AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED TO 
 
 MY DEAR MOTHER. 
 
r 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGK 
 JOY BELLS, ........ 7 
 
 CUPID AND PSYCHE, . . . . . . 12 
 
 LONG AGO, ........ 14 
 
 THE LYRE OF LOVE, . . . . . . 1 6 
 
 ANIMA MEA, . . . . . . . I8 
 
 TO DELILAH, . . . . . . . 1 9 
 
 DE PROFUNDIS CLAMAVI, . . , . •23 
 
 THE SEWING GIRL's SONG, ..... 26 
 
 ABSENCE, ........ 27 
 
 THE BLIND BOY TO HIS BROTHER IN CHURCH, . 29 
 
 A FAREWELL, ....... 3O 
 
 THE BROOK, ....... 33 
 
 WED NOT FOR GOLD, . . . . . '35 
 
 " I BRING THEE, LOVE, NO COSTLY GEMS," . . 38 
 
6 Contents. 
 
 PAGE 
 FALSE CHARITY, ....... 40 
 
 *' NEVER DESPAIR," ...... 45 
 
 ** I SAW HER FIRST AMID A THRONG," . . -47 
 
 THE FORSAKEN, . . . . . . 5 I 
 
 OUR FATHERS, . . . . . . -52 
 
 THE FUTURE, ....... 54 
 
 THE TEMPLE OF WAR, AND THE TEMPLE OF PEACE, . 58 
 
 A COMETARY, . . . . . . . 6 I 
 
 THE SEXTON, ....... 64 
 
 A SERENADE, ....... 68 
 
 NAIL OUR FLAG TO THE MAST, . . . -JO 
 
 SPRING TIME, ....... 73 
 
 THE YACHTMAn's SONG, . . . . -75 
 
 SAM, ........ 77 
 
 TEDDY o'mURPHY, . . . . . '79 
 
 SONGS, ETC., FROM RIP VAN WINKLE, . . 8 1 
 
R H Y M I N G S 
 
 JOY BELLS. 
 
 ARK to the merry bells. 
 As in yon tall tower they ring ; 
 What is the tale their mufic tells ? 
 What is the fong they fmg ? 
 Knell! Knell! Knell! 
 Lift to the fong of the bell, 
 "Whoever thou art ; 
 Of a breaking heart 
 And blighted hopes we tell." 
 
 "Enter in at the porch," 
 The joy-bells feem to fhout, 
 'Tis an audion-room, and not a church. 
 Though no red flag hangs out. 
 
Joy Bells. 
 
 Sold! Sold! Sold! 
 
 The tale has been often told — 
 
 Body and heart. 
 
 Like a flave at the mart. 
 
 Bartered away for gold. 
 
 In bridal garb arrayed. 
 Though the rofe from her cheek has fled. 
 At the altar-foot Hands a lovely maid. 
 And wilhes fhe were dead ! 
 Tears ! tears ! tears ! 
 Heart tears, though the lids are dry : 
 There's hell in the foul of that maiden fair- 
 On her pallid lips a he. 
 
 With eyes all glafly and dull. 
 
 By her fide a grey-beard old. 
 
 Of figures his head hke a ledger full. 
 
 His heart a lump of gold. 
 
 Oh, man, with fifter dear. 
 
 Oh, man, with mother and wife, 
 
 'Tis not a bridal you witnefs here. 
 
 But — the death of a fair young life. 
 
 He, who had won her heart. 
 In happy days gone by. 
 
Joy Bells. 
 
 Now llandeth in the gloom apart. 
 All fad and mournfully. 
 Crulhed! Cruflied ! Crufhed ! 
 For a little golden dull. 
 His joys all fled. 
 His hopes all dead, 
 A noble fpirit loft. 
 
 Sold is that fair young thing — 
 
 If not her heart, her hand ; 
 
 Alas ! what power could ftie bring 
 
 Againft a fire's command ? 
 
 Bartered away and fold. 
 
 Body and heart, for gold — 
 
 Bartered away. 
 
 To that dotard grey. 
 
 For the damning greed of gold. 
 
 There flde by lide they ftand. 
 Repeating the vows by turns ; 
 He places a ring on that marble hand. 
 And the hoop, hke fire, burns. 
 Love ! Honor ! Obey ! 
 Say the lips, but the heart is dumb. 
 She fain would weep, flie tries to pray. 
 But nor prayers nor tears will come. 
 1* 
 
Joy Bell s. 
 
 Behind the altar-rail. 
 
 In accents fweet and clear. 
 
 Binding for aye that curfed falc. 
 
 Stands the reverend audlioneer. 
 
 Going ! Going ! Gone — 
 
 The deed is quickly done 
 
 By that plain gold ring ; 
 
 Winter and Spring 
 
 For life, are joined in one. 
 
 Prayed is the lafl fhort prayer. 
 
 And — joyous fight to fee — 
 
 The minifter, blefTing the happy pair. 
 
 Pockets his golden fee. 
 
 Sold! Sold! Sold! 
 
 Let the bells be fadly tolled. 
 
 Better to knell 
 
 For a funeral. 
 
 Than a barter of hearts for gold. 
 
 Gone is the bridal-train. 
 But the bells, with their filver tone. 
 Still echo through the facred fane 
 As I Hand there alone. 
 
JoyBells. II 
 
 Knell ! Knell ! Knell ! 
 'This feems the fong of the bell : 
 Some bridals are made 
 In heaven, 'tis faid. 
 But this was forged in hell.'' 
 
CUPID AND PSYCHE. 
 
 AY-DREAM of youth, children of Love and 
 G^ Spring, 
 
 ^jJ/\ Buds zephyr-culled from Heaven's ccleftial 
 Bowers, 
 Now fallen to earth, but llainlefs^wandering 
 Through this cold, heartlefs, lovelefs world of ours ; 
 Ah ! know ye not the bud muft change to flower. 
 The flower wither ere the day grows old. 
 Your goflamer woof of love hath not the power 
 To guard from burning noon, from evening cold. 
 
 The morning fliars pale with the fun's awaking ; 
 The morning fkies blufli with his coming ray ; 
 The morning-glories, dew-drops from them fliaking. 
 Wither and droop, and clofe at early day. 
 
Cupid and Psyche. 13 
 
 The matin long of birds from nefl upfpringing. 
 Wakes us from dreams of happy coming years ; 
 Their vefper chaunts now tremuloufly fmging. 
 Echo 'mid cyprefs boughs, of woe and tears. 
 
 Then cull your flowers while the dawn Hill lingers. 
 
 Dream love-dreams ftill, ye'll waken all too foon ; 
 
 Hid 'neath the leaves, fliarp thorns will pierce your 
 
 fingers ; 
 Bloflbms and dreams will vanilh ere the noon ; 
 The tempefl wrack fliall cloud the iky ere even ; 
 The lightning rend the giant oak in twain ; 
 Wand'rers from Paradife, fly back to Heaven, 
 There feek, there find eternal love again. 
 
LONG AGO. 
 
 OST thou remember, lady fair. 
 The willow by the river fide ? 
 One eve we fat together there 
 
 You promifed to become my bride. 
 But flay, fair lady, fpeak it not,— 
 
 Thy anfwer I already know ; 
 Thofe happy hours are all forgot. 
 For it was very long ago. 
 
 Doft call to mind the grafly lane. 
 
 All hidden in the httle grove, — 
 Can memory bring it back again ? 
 
 'Twas there I told thee of my love ! 
 Thy wilhng hand was clafped in mine. 
 
 Thy lips, — fay, did they anfwer No ? 
 'Tis paft ! and why Ihould I repine, — 
 
 For it was very long ago. 
 
Long Ago. 
 
 Doft call to mind the trembling kifs 
 
 I prefled upon thy burning cheek ? 
 Haft thou forgot the words of blifs 
 
 Thine eyes did look, thy voice did fpeak ? 
 Nay, lady, do not weep ! Thy tears 
 
 Have now no right for me to flow. 
 I thought to fhare thy hopes and fears, — 
 
 But it was very long ago. 
 
 The willow by the ftream is dead. 
 
 The grafly lane, the grove, both gone, — 
 And thou art to another wed ! 
 
 I wander through the world alone. 
 Yet oft unbidden burfts a figh. 
 
 And down my cheeks in forrow flow 
 The tears I weep for days gone by. 
 
 And memories of long ago. 
 
THE LYRE OF LOVE. 
 
 " Qe\<t} Xeyeiv ArpeiSas." 
 
 Anaceeon. 
 
 STRIVE to fing of many a theme. 
 As o'er the firings my fingers move, 
 gl^^ But hufhed and filent is the ftream 
 Of mufic, till my fong is Love. 
 
 To lay of Sorrow firil I ftruck 
 
 The lyre that once breathed mufic fweet. 
 
 Each chord, when touched, that inftant broke,— 
 It would not e'en one note repeat. 
 
 Ambition next for theme I chofe. 
 But filent flill the lyre remained ; 
 
 It feemed as if in Death repofe 
 
 Each breathlefs found and chord was chained. 
 
The Lyre of Love. 17 
 
 I'll iing of Friendfliip, then I faid. 
 
 This theme at leaft will break the charm ; 
 
 The lyre at Frieridihip's call was dead, — 
 E'en this the fpell could not difarm. 
 
 Joy ! Thou fhalt wake my fong, I cried, — 
 
 In vain ! no melody was there ; 
 The ftubborn harp a moment fighed. 
 
 Then ceafed, as if in mute defpair. 
 
 One effort more, — of Love I'll fmg. 
 
 Again the tunelefs lyre I'll try ; 
 I took the harp, I touched the string, 
 
 Acrofs the wires my fingers fly ; 
 
 And then in wild, ccftatic fire. 
 
 The mufic ran the chords along ; 
 I whifpered, as I kiffed the lyre. 
 
 Henceforth I'll fmg no other fong. 
 
ANIMA MEA. 
 
 SK me not why I love thee, 'twere as well 
 Queftion the rofes why they love the rain ; 
 Or bid the trailing morning-glories tell 
 Why, when the Orient Heaven puts on again 
 Its rainbow tabard, heralding the day. 
 They ope their petals, heavy with the dew. 
 Anima Mea, I can only fay. 
 My waking foul rofe upward in the blue 
 Ether of thy dear prefence, from the earth. 
 Where it had lain like fky-lark through the night 
 Of all my former life ; and, breaking forth 
 In ecftafies of fuch a new delight. 
 It could but mount and fmg ; what though the heaven 
 Were far too diftant for its flagging wing. 
 And it muft, drooping, fall to earth ere even ; 
 What though pad joys are fadly vanilhing. 
 And tempeil clouds drive 'twixt me and the plain, 
 I ne'er can find my meadow-neft again. 
 
TO DELILAH. 
 
 ES ! all are here, the once prized gifts. 
 Now valuelefs as withered flowers ; 
 And Mem'ry for a moment Hfts 
 
 The curtain from that paft of ours. 
 That paft, when, as before fome flirine. 
 Where but the holieft vows are given, 
 My heart, to that falfe heart of thine 
 
 Knelt. down and prayed, methought to Heaven. 
 
 Aye, prayed to Heaven ! my love for thee 
 
 A flight of rainbow fteps did feem, 
 Down which God's Angels came to me 
 
 And whifpered, as in Jacob's dream. 
 The dream is paft — the flumber o'er ; 
 
 Around me, but a defert plain ; 
 Thou art, what thou hadft been before. 
 
 And I — well, I am free again. 
 
20 To Delilah. 
 
 Allj faid I ? No ! thou haft retained 
 
 The only things I craved of thee ; 
 Oh give them back again ; tho' ftained. 
 
 They are of pricelefs worth to me. 
 Yes, here the book, and here the gem 
 
 Lefs beauteous and lefs falfe than thou. 
 Ah ! why didft not return with them 
 
 The ardent hopes, all vanifhed now. 
 
 Oh, giv^e again thofe ardent hopes. 
 
 Loft beacons of my wafted years ; 
 Bereft of them, the future opes 
 
 A barren wafte, all mift and tears. 
 Give back the truth I plighted thee ; 
 
 Give back the trufting Love I gave ; 
 Or ftiipwrecked on life's ftormy fea, 
 
 I fmk beneath the o'crwhelming wave. 
 
 And thou wouldft have me, too, return 
 
 Each record of thofe happy days ? 
 Well doft thou know that I would fcorn 
 
 To treafure ftill thefe mockeries ? 
 I fend thee each material trace 
 
 Of what thou wert, of what thou art ; 
 Would 'twere as eafy to efface 
 
 And blot thine image from my heart. 
 
T o Del I LAH. 21 
 
 Here is the trefs of golden hair 
 
 I took from off thy fnowy brow ; 
 Is not the kifs ftill lingering there ? 
 
 Doll thou not feel it burning now ? 
 Thou may'ft erafe that kifs no more 
 
 Than human hand can wafh the blood 
 Of murder'd Rizzio from the floor 
 
 Of Mary's bower in Holy Rood. 
 
 Oh ! I am powerlefs to deal 
 
 With hfe, for thou haft made me weak. 
 Thy kifs, Delilah, ftill I feel. 
 
 Thy lying kifs upon my cheek. 
 Yet ftill from Humber I awake. 
 
 And hurl this thraldom from my mind ; 
 Thus, traitrefs, thus thy bonds I break. 
 
 And thank my God I am not blind. 
 
 What's this ? a tear ! well, let it fall, 
 
 'Tis not the firft, 'twill be the laft : 
 And with it, now I banilh all 
 
 My thought of thee, thine hour is paft ! 
 'Twas near two thoufand years ago — 
 
 The tale is old ; haft thou not read 
 How Judas bought perdition so. 
 
 And with a kifs his Lord betrayed ? 
 
22 ToDeLILAH. 
 
 Room for the Leper ! tho' the crowd 
 
 May yield due homage to thy Hate, 
 And cringe and fmile, in anguilh bowed 
 
 Thy foul ihall fit without the gate. 
 Perchance thou may'st conceal thy Ihame, 
 
 Poor leman, from the world unseen. 
 Thy heart fhall utter flill the same 
 
 Foul leper's cry, *' Unclean ! unclean ! " 
 
 Thou hadft thy price, and it is paid ; 
 
 That peerlefs form of thine is fold. 
 Hearts were not mentioned in the trade. 
 
 They fell for love, — but thou for gold. 
 Bought is thy life — thy hand — thy face, — 
 
 A perjured vow — a ring — and then 
 Bought is each loving, fond embrace ; 
 
 Thou'rt but a wedded Magdalen. 
 
 I almoft pity thee thy fate, 
 
 Life fettered, like a galley-flave ; 
 In anguifh thou shalt feek, too late. 
 
 Some power to fuccor and to fave. 
 Too late on earth ; the anointed feet 
 
 Need not thy tears, thy golden hair ; 
 He fits upon the mercy feat — 
 
 Perchance thou'lt find forgivenefs there. 
 
DE PROFUNDIS CLAMAVI. 
 
 OME, home at laft. 
 
 Weary and cold. 
 
 Poor, weak, and old. 
 
 Bending beneath the weight of forrows paft, 
 BHnd to the gifts of mercy manifold. 
 Looking out on the vaft 
 Unfathomable ocean of To Come. 
 Hopes now all vanifhed, earthly joys all paft. 
 Groping with outftretched arms amid the gloom. 
 And clouds of doubt hung round for auguries 
 Of that dear promife, which upon the Crofs 
 Our Saviour gave the fmner at his fide. 
 Our Saviour, mine ! yes, 'twas for me He died. 
 In that dread hour he hears the fmner*s cries ; 
 In that dread hour he liftens, and replies, 
 ^'Thou art forgiven. 
 Count other gain but lofs. 
 
24 De Profundis Clamavi, 
 
 With faltering footfteps follow me to Heaven ; 
 Turn from the earth, look upward to the fkies. 
 To-day thou'It be with me in Paradife." 
 
 Home, home at laft. 
 Weighed down with pain ; 
 The dull and travel (lain 
 Of wafted years hang heavy on my brow ; 
 Earth's choiceft gifts but duft and afhes now. 
 Bending beneath a burthen I would fain 
 Lay at His feet whofe vaft 
 And boundlefs mercy held me up fo long ; 
 Yet at thofe bleeding feet I dare not caft 
 My heavy load. Were they not pierced for me ? 
 Did he not hang upon the 'curfed tree ? 
 Redeeming me ; while I — I held the ipear 
 That pierced His fide ; 
 I crowned the reed with gall ; 
 I mocked and fcourged, reviled and crucified ; 
 And dare I now at this laft hour call 
 On Him for aid, now at the fet of fun. 
 My work time over, and the daylight gone ? 
 When in my hand, fole offering, I bring 
 A buried talent to my God and King ? 
 Dying on Crofs, the Saviour ftill replies, 
 "To-dav thou'It be with me in Paradife." 
 
De Profundis Clamavi. 25 
 
 Home, home at laft. 
 Humbly repenting. 
 Father, relenting. 
 
 Take to thy arms again an erring fon, f'" 
 
 At my great finfulnefs Hand not aghaft. 
 Jefus, my Saviour, be thou, too, confenting : 
 Thou who didft tell the Prodigal's return. 
 I have fadly pafled 
 
 The years fmce £rft I left thee, wandering far 
 From Home and Thee, without the guiding ftar 
 Of thy dear teachings ; — heavinefs and pain 
 Have travelled with me ; now I come again. 
 Praying thy pardon for the gifts I've walled, 
 Afking forgivenefs for the ill-fpent years. 
 Brimming with fweetnefs feemed the cup I tailed. 
 But oh ! the dregs were bitternefs and tears. 
 Canft thou forgive me ? 
 See me humbly kneeling ; 
 Jefus, my Saviour, oh again receive me, 
 Liilen to my agonized appealing ; 
 I read thy promife on the weftern fkies, 
 '* To-day thou'lt be with me in Paradife." 
 2 
 
THE SEWING GIRL'S SONG, 
 
 EARILY, wearily ftitching, 
 ^ From morning till late in the night. 
 
 To make fome young lady bewitching, 
 
 Whofe heart, beating light 
 'Neath the robe that we few. 
 Never, never will know. 
 Why the tiflue fo bright 
 Is dimmed here and there. 
 And perchance would not care 
 Were fhe told that our tears 
 Make each fpot that appears 
 Like a ftain on the ftufF. 
 But enough, girls, enough ; 
 Your needles keep plying. 
 We are not paid for crying. 
 
ABSENCE. 
 
 USHED is my harp, as o'er its unftrung chords 
 My fingers idly fweep, the burning words 
 Q^Q ) That echo in my heart, vainly eflay 
 
 To murmur on my lip. Through the long day 
 My flagging mind is powerlefs but to turn 
 And dream of vaniflied joys. I can but mourn 
 Thy abfence, as we mourn the flowers departed. 
 And fummer pall:. I thought to be ftrong-hearted. 
 When thou wert gone, and hurry back again 
 To the cold world. But vain the fliruggle, vain 
 Are all my efforts. Round me is a fpell 
 Like that with which the moon, as poets tell. 
 Guides every motion of the fl:ormy fea ; 
 So in my thought I can but follow thee ; — 
 And as, when all around is raylefs night. 
 In one long golden line of love and light 
 The moon is mirrored in its heaving breaft. 
 So in my heart thy image is imprefled. 
 
28 Absence. 
 
 Pale Dian calmly fits enthroned on high, 
 
 Peerlefs amid the ftars, while toward the fky 
 
 The Tea lifts up its waves as if in prayer, 
 
 Afking a fmile, and fhe all coldly there 
 
 Looks down imconfcious. Lady, did the gleam 
 
 Of thy dark eyes upon thy lover beam 
 
 As coldly bright ? Or did their lids conceal 
 
 How much, though calm the brow, the heart could 
 
 feel ? 
 As the poor cripple, through long weary years 
 Of pain and anguifh lay, 'mid hopes and fears. 
 Waiting the Angel-vifitant to cool 
 And ftir the waters of Bethefda's pool, 
 Whofe troubled wave fhould give him health once 
 
 more — 
 Thus my lone heart fits idly by the fliore 
 Of the dim future, waiting thy return ; 
 And when on weftern hills at funfet, burn 
 Beacons of bright To-morrows, toward the fky 
 My eyes I turn ; and when I fee on high 
 'Mid twihght's gloom the crefcent moon appear, 
 I dream the pool is flirrcd, the angel draweth near. 
 
THE BLIND BOY TO HIS BROTHER 
 IN CHURCH. 
 
 AM not blind, dear Brother, now. 
 For, though I cannot fee — 
 
 Though darknefs overfpreads my brow- 
 The Gofpel fhines for me. 
 
 Lift, Brother, hft ! each holy word 
 
 Is graven on my mind ; 
 I could not fee, but then I heard, — 
 
 Brother, I am not blind ! 
 
 Father ! to whom all fupphants kneel, 
 
 I afk not worldly fight ; 
 Oh, hear a poor Wind boy's appeal 
 
 For more of Heavenly light ! 
 
A FAREWELL. 
 
 AREWELL ! Farewell! I fcarce can bring 
 My trembling lips to fpeak the word ; 
 Its hated accents feem to ring 
 
 Like funeral chimes by mourners heard ; 
 It drags me from the dreamy paft, — 
 Of buried hopes it tolls the knell. 
 And happinefs retreats aghaft 
 
 Before the dreaded word — ^Farewell ! 
 
 No more of love, no more of home. 
 
 No more of every joy I prize. 
 The parting hour at length has come. 
 
 And even friendfhip withering dies. 
 No more ! What thoughts of deep defpair 
 
 Thofe bitter words of anguifh tell ! 
 No hope of future refling there. 
 
 To light the fadnefs of Farewell ! 
 
^ A Farewell. 31 
 
 Adieu ! To thee I will not fpeak 
 
 Of what I fancied once jnight be, — 
 'Twould bring a blulh upon thy cheek. 
 
 In pity for my mifery. ^" 
 
 I will not claim the fmgle tear 
 
 Thou couldfl: not hide, were I to tell 
 Of what thou need'll not, muft not, hear, — 
 
 'Tis whifpered in this lafl: Farewell ! 
 
 Perchance, when ocean rolls between, 
 
 Thou'lt fometimes kindly think of one. 
 Forgetting what he would have been,- — 
 
 Remember only he is gone. 
 Perchance, when all around feems gay. 
 
 Thy thoughts may for a moment dwell 
 On him who muft not, dare not ftay. 
 
 But bids thee now a laft Farewell ! 
 
 Adieu ! adieu ! I meant to go 
 
 With changelefs cheek and tearlefs eye. 
 Nor deemed 'twould wring my fpirit fo. 
 
 To fpeak one little word — Good-bye ! 
 I thought to wear a carelefs fmile. 
 
 And with a merry laugh to tell — 
 Although my heart fhould break, the while — 
 
 Some idle jeft, and then — Farewell ! . 
 
32 A Farewell. 
 
 Yet, fare thee well ! I ne'er fhall bend 
 
 My knee at morn and eve in prayer. 
 But fupplications fhall afcend 
 
 For thee to Heaven, entreating there 
 That angel hands may round thee twine 
 
 A wreath of happinels, a fpell 
 Of funny hours, that conftant fliine. 
 
 Nor ever bid, as I, Farewell ! 
 
THE BROOK. 
 
 LASHING, dafhing, comes the rill. 
 Rumbling, tumbling, down the hill. 
 Swollen with the winter fnows. 
 Swifter on its courfe it goes. 
 Flinging gems on bufh and fprav, 
 As it pafles on its way 
 To the ice-encumbered river. 
 Where its drops are loft forever 
 In the fwollen tide that runs 
 To the South, where tropic funs. 
 While it knows not of its danger. 
 Warm to melt the northern ftranger. 
 Stopping, as it comes along. 
 To repeat its little fong. 
 In the pool it loves to linger. 
 While Jack Froft, with fairy finger. 
 
34 TheBrook. 
 
 Strives to bind it in his net. 
 
 Fain would lead it to forget 
 
 That it ftill mull on, though weary. 
 
 On, through the world, though cold and dreary. 
 
 On, though it leaves all joy behind it ; 
 
 On, though the Sirens llrive to bind it ; 
 
 To the great Gulf it ftill muft flee, — 
 
 The river of Eternity. 
 
WED NOT FOR GOLD. 
 
 OULDST wed for gold ? Seek yonder palace- 
 J) gate. 
 
 Where liveried menials at the entrance wait ; 
 They guard the porch 'gainll all of low degree. 
 But thou, unfeen, fhalt enter there with me. 
 And learn a leflbn from a gilded page ; 
 Too true the tale it tells, from age to age. 
 Of wealth and mifery joining hand in hand. 
 See yonder lady fair ; would'il underftand 
 Why on her youthful brow that fhadow refts ? 
 Can it be true that aught of grief molells 
 One who is miftrefs of a home like this ? 
 What ! can not riches buy e'en earthly blifs ? 
 Fool ! lift the moral that this fcene imparts : 
 She purchafed wealth — with what — two broken hearts ! 
 Scarce one fhort year ago, a youthful pair 
 Plighted their troth, and fwore through life to fhare. 
 Whether for weal or woe, a mutual lot ; 
 
36 Wed NOT FOR Gold. 
 
 But wealth came riding by, and Ihe forgot 
 
 Her faith, his love ; alas ! poor girl, fhe fold 
 
 His earthly happinefs, her Heaven, for gold ! 
 
 Where is he now, that poor heart-broken boy ? 
 
 When he beheld his all of earthly joy 
 
 Gone, gone for ever with the rich man's bride, — 
 
 The church-yard tells the mournful tale — " he died." 
 
 And is flie happy now ? No ; every fcene 
 
 She looks upon but tells what might have been. 
 
 Though decked in coftly filks and fatins rare. 
 
 Though pricelefs jewels glitter in her hair. 
 
 Though bleffed with every thing that wealth can buy. 
 
 Still, is ihe happy ? Lift the ftifled figh 
 
 Burfting unbidden from her aching breaft ! 
 
 It fometimes finds a voice, though oft repreifed ; 
 
 And in that figh a truthful tale is told : 
 
 Go, write it on thy heart, then wed for o^^l^ ' 
 
 Wouldft wed for gold ? Seek yonder humble cot ; 
 There wealth and mifery are alike forgot ; 
 Wide open ftands the hofpitable door. 
 And welcome he who enters, rich or poor ; 
 Contentment fmiles around with homely grace; 
 Here jaundiced Avarice with fafFron face 
 Would e'en forget his hoards of yellow duft. 
 And give his miUions, could he fhare the cruft 
 
Wed not for Gold. 37 
 
 That honeft labor renders ever Iweet, 
 
 (Not always fuch the luxuries of the great). 
 
 See from his daily toil the cotter come : 
 
 Full well he knows the loved one waits him home ; 
 
 Little cares he to fhare the rich man's part. 
 
 His mine of wealth is one true woman's heart ; 
 
 Like thofe twin ftars that mariners defcry 
 
 When looking Heavenward in the northern fky. 
 
 They feek the Polar Star to track their way 
 
 O'er pathlefs feas, but, left they wandering ftray 
 
 And choofe fome other orb, the Pointers guide 
 
 To it alone, heedlefs of all befide ; 
 
 Revolving ever, ftill they never rove 
 
 From out the path that guards the ftar they love. 
 
 So woman's rich afFeftions, pure and true. 
 
 Once gained, will ever fondly cling to you. 
 
 Though all elfe change. Let good or ill betide. 
 
 Faint not, bleft man, an angel's at thy fide ! 
 
 Conftant in death, fhe whifpering points above : 
 
 " Deareft, we'll meet in Heaven, for Heaven is love." 
 
 Think well on this, ye fools that feek to gain 
 
 A fleeting pleafure for an age of pain ! 
 
 'Tis fliort-lived pleafure w^ealth alone can give. 
 
 And happier far, methinks, 'twould be to live 
 
 Poor but contented. Now my tale is told ; 
 
 Go, write it on thy heart, then wed for gold ! 
 
"I BRING THEE, LOVE, NO 
 COSTLY GEMS." 
 
 BRING thcc, love, no coflly gems. 
 
 To decorate thy golden hair, 
 
 •) Frefh flowers are Nature's diadems, — 
 
 Then let them bloom in fragrance there. 
 
 The wave-wafhed Pearl, from ocean caves. 
 The Indian Ruby's rofeate dye. 
 
 The Diamond, frozen tear of flaves. 
 Were dim befide thy fparkling eye ! 
 
 The Opal, rainbovv-kiffed, may lend 
 
 Frefh charms to many a form lefs bright. 
 
 But jewels, love, would vainly blend 
 With thine that afk no borrowed light ! 
 
I BRING THEE, LoVE. 39 
 
 Then take the Rofe, its funfet hue 
 
 A fleeting bkifli upon thy cheek, — 
 The Heliotrope, whofc modeil blue 
 
 Seems ever of thine eyes to fpeak. 
 
 The Lily on thine ivory brow, 
 
 Contrafted with its fnowy white. 
 Were dull, — then, love, I pray thee now, 
 
 Enwreathe thy hair with flowers to-night. 
 
FALSE CHARITY. 
 
 YE ! give your thoufands in an idle caufe. 
 Break through your fathers* and your country's 
 
 laws. 
 Forget the precepts once fo dearly prized. 
 
 Be all your former principles defpifed ! 
 
 But, while ye drain your hoards for other lands. 
 
 Can ye be bhnd to what your own demands ? 
 
 Can ye o'erlook the many fuffering poor 
 
 Who beg their daily bread from door to door ? 
 
 Pleading the tafk of aiding foreign flaves. 
 
 Deny to them the mite their hunger craves ! 
 
 Bellowing millions on fome project wild, 
 
 Refufe a penny to a famifhed child ! 
 
 All this ye do, vain fools ! — all this, and more ! 
 
 And is it Charity that claims your ftore ? 
 
 Afk yourfclves this ; draw back the mifty vail 
 
 That hides your hearts, — let confcience tell the tale. 
 
False Chari ty. 41 
 
 Does aught of charity the gold fupply ? 
 
 What, no reiponle ! Wilt give me no reply ? 
 
 Then I will anfwer truly for ye all : 
 
 'Tis Pride ! — the fin that caufed an angel's fall ! 
 
 Tis Pride ! — that hurled a holy fpirit down 
 
 From higheft Heaven, and caufed a God to frown 
 
 On thofe he loved the deareft, bell:, before! 
 
 Oh, fearch your hearts, and gather from your Here 
 
 At leail the crumbs, and give them to the poor. 
 
 'Twas but an hour ago I faw a form 
 
 That dragged fcarce half a body through the llorm, 
 
 'Twixt bending crutches, flowly on his way, 
 
 From doling door and doling door, to pray 
 
 A little aid, to fave his only fon ; 
 
 And unaffifted. Hill he tottered on. 
 
 I know not if 'twas pity bade me fpeak, — 
 
 I could not help it, for he looked fo weak, 
 
 Methought that every Hep would be his laft ; 
 
 He feemed to ftagger in the wintry blaft 
 
 As if he had not llrength to hold him up. 
 
 Poor man ! he mull have drained the biiiter cup 
 
 Of pain and penury e'en to the dregs ! — 
 
 And now — the hardeil pang of all — he begs 
 
 From men of wealth a mite, to fave his boy, — 
 
 Not for himfelf, — no ! fooner far deftroy 
 
 His hated life, and end at once his woe ; 
 
42 False Charity. 
 
 But for his child he will defcend fo low. 
 
 And cringe to avarice, can he only fave 
 
 His chiefeft joy and bleffing from the grave. 
 
 Lift to the tale he tells ! — Columbians, hear ! 
 
 And for the love of all you hold moft dear. 
 
 Forget it not. — Remember thofe at home. 
 
 Firft give to thefe, then let your pity roam 
 
 O'er all the world ; — chief in your hearts fhould be 
 
 Your country's claims, — not thofe beyond the fea ! 
 
 ** Six years ago went up a mighty cry. 
 
 From North and South, of War and Liberty. 
 
 With many thoufands more I took the field, 
 
 Refolved to die or conquer, ne'er to yield ; 
 
 [n many a battle willingly I fhed 
 
 My blood hke rain. A brother left I dead. 
 
 On Cerro Gordo's fanguinary plain ; 
 
 At Cherubufco's fight I ftood again, 
 
 Clofe by another ; he, too, dying, fell 
 
 E'en at my feet ! O God ! I loved him well ! — 
 
 Yet on, ftill on, I prefTed, till — harder lot — 
 
 I, too, fell — wounded by a cruel fhot ; — 
 
 Which left me as you fee, yet killed me not. — 
 
 A helplefs, ufelefs, broken-hearted man. 
 
 At laft I gained my home." Hear this who can. 
 
 And check the blood that mantles o'er your brow : 
 
 His grateful country has forgot him now, — 
 
False Charity. 43 
 
 His withered laurel has to cyprefs turned ; — 
 
 From ev'ry door the wounded man is fpurned. 
 
 While eager hands throw down the heaps of gold 
 
 Before a felf-made idol, — as of old, ( 
 
 When Ifrael at Jehovah dared to laugh. 
 
 And gave their wealth to build a molten calf. 
 
 But lift the tale : " I gained my native land. 
 
 Maimed, and in want. Of all that ftalwart band 
 
 Who, but a year before, went forth in pride. 
 
 But few remained, — the greater part had died 
 
 Of fell difeafe ; or, on the battle-field. 
 
 Face to the foe. Columbia's fame was fealed 
 
 And figned in blood ! Wives, parents, children, mourn 
 
 Loved ones departed, never to return ! 
 
 Full many a widow welcomed us with tears ; 
 
 Our grateful country welcomed us with cheers, — 
 
 Then gave us — to requite the blood we fhed — 
 
 Medals ! — which we were forced to fell for bread ! 
 
 Aye ! fell for bread ; no other means remained. 
 
 To ftay our hunger. — Medals, bravely gained. 
 
 For food and raiment ! " God, in whom I truft. 
 
 Are fuch things true ? Can it be right or juft 
 
 To aid each ufelefs and chimeric fcheme 
 
 With wafted thoufands ? Strive to fill a ftream 
 
 With drops of water till it flood its banks. 
 
 Repay a friend's devotednefs with thanks j 
 
44 False Charity. 
 
 Attempt to curb the whirlwind with thine arm ; 
 Preach love to tigers, filence to the ftorm, — 
 When thefe ye do, 'tis time enough to free 
 The fhackled nations by thy charity. 
 Begin at home — there's many an obje6l here 
 Has claims upon thy bounty, far more near 
 Than thofe ye aid fo freely, far more dear 
 To every honeft, patriotic heart, — 
 Claims that are prefled with no rhetoric art. 
 But plead in withered frames, and funken eyes ! 
 Delay no longer, left another dies 
 Ere ye refolve. Hafte, hafte, the hours fly faft ! 
 Though late, determine to be juft, at laft. 
 
**NEVER DESPAIR." 
 
 ^5) EVER defpair ! Prcfs ahead on thy way. 
 
 Fear not though the clouds lower darkling to- 
 
 fzP^ day. 
 
 Fear not though thy heart is encurtained in 
 gloom, 
 Prefs onward ! To-morrow the funfhine may come. 
 The day-ftar is there, and ere long 'twill be fhining. 
 The Heavens are blue, then away with repining. 
 The pathway before thee, though fteep, is ftill open, 
 Prefs on ! though the road may be rugged and broken ; 
 You ne'er can replenifh a light purfe with grieving, 
 Then let a light heart be the balance relieving ; 
 'Twill weigh down the purfe and e'en make you forget it, 
 'Twill fill it, perchance, if j-ou only will let it. 
 A heart that is light is a true golden treafure. 
 For it joys in itfelf, nor looks elfewhere for pleafure. 
 'Tis a fun ever fliining on all who arc near it ; 
 'Tis a fweet playing lute to whoever may hear it ; 
 
46 "Never Despair." 
 
 'Tis a mirror refledling all others in gladnefs ; 
 
 'Tis a curtain to hang o'er the dark brow of fadnefs ; 
 
 A diamond that fhines, though furrounded in gloom ; 
 
 A lamp to illumine the mifls of the tomb. 
 
 Never defpair ! Life yet is remaining. 
 
 To give thee frefh chance of the vift'ry obtaining. 
 
 Far, far in the diftance hope beckons thee on. 
 
 Think not of the idle days faded and gone. 
 
 Think not of thy former misfortunes with forrow, 
 
 Refolve to retrieve them to-day and to-morrow. 
 
 Though friends may forfake thee, the cold world be 
 
 frowning, 
 Prefs on ! and fuccefs fliall thy efforts be crowning. 
 Prefs on ! for the fun in thy fky foon may fet. 
 Then wafle not the moments in ufelefs regret ; 
 No time now is left to refleft on loft chances. 
 Thy Ufe every hour to its ending advances. 
 Let all thy tranfaftions be honeft and fair. 
 And e'en let thy watchword be, " Never Defpair ! " 
 
I SAW HER FIRST AMID A 
 THRONG." 
 
 SAW her firft amid a throng 
 
 Of gallants brave and ladies fair ; 
 
 Hers was the gayeft, happiell fong — 
 She was the brighteft being there. 
 
 A happy fmile played 'round her mouth. 
 Like funfhine on a placid lake 
 
 When zephyrs from the funny South 
 The golden-dimpled ripples wake. 
 
 I fcarcely dared to afk the name 
 
 Of her who feemed fo fair and bright. 
 
 Yet to my brow the heart-blood came. 
 As near me oft flie paffed that night. 
 
48 "ISawHer First 
 
 We met again, and I had known 
 On life's dark ocean many a Ilorm ; 
 
 Full many a year had fvviftly flown, — 
 And oh ! how changed that angel form ! 
 
 The hand of Death was on her brow. 
 So low her voice fhe fcarce could fpeak ; 
 
 Her hazel eye was funken now. 
 And pallid the once rofy cheek, — 
 
 Save where a deep carnation flufli 
 Was Ihining ofi the fnowy white; 
 
 I knew it was a flower whofe blufli 
 Foretold the quickly coming night. 
 
 'Twas on the rolling deep we met. 
 She fought for health a funnier fliore. 
 
 But ere the fecond fun had fet. 
 Her pilgrimage of hfe was o'er. 
 
 Yet Hill that happy fmile was there ; 
 
 Cold, heartlefs Death forgot his power. 
 And pitying, refolved to fpare 
 
 The beautv of the withered flower. 
 
Amid A Throng." 49 
 
 Poor girl ! alas, no tree fhall wave 
 Its drooping branches o'er thy head. 
 
 For fathomlefs the ocean grave 
 
 Where thou waft calmly, ladly laid. 
 
 No love-fown flower e'er fhall bloom 
 Above the fpot where thou doft fleep ; 
 
 No fculptured ftone fliall mark thy tomb. 
 For friends to wander there and weep. 
 
 Yet many a heart enflirines thee ftill. 
 
 And many a thought and tear are given. 
 
 While hopes, rich hopes, each bofom fill. 
 To meet thy angel foul in Heaven. 
 
 I faw her once again in dreams. 
 
 And very oft thofe dreams return ; 
 An angel all of light fhe feems. 
 
 And, fmihng, bids me ceafe to mourn. 
 
 She points her finger toward the ikies, 
 
 And bids me look in faith above. 
 Seek there a Bride that never dies, 
 
 A heaven of unending love. 
 3 
 
50 "I Saw Her First." 
 
 Yes, angel, yes ! though diftant far 
 
 From friends, and home, and all I ftray. 
 
 Thou art the radiant Beacon ftar 
 
 That guides my wavering, wandering way. 
 
THE FORSAKEN. 
 
 FEEL no more thy cruel art. 
 
 And bid adieu with tearlefs eye ; 
 I cannot free again my heart. 
 But I can let it break and die. 
 Perchance I e'en Ihall ftrive to fmile. 
 
 When thou art to another wed ; 
 But I implore thee, wait awhile. 
 Nor claim thy bride till I am dead. 
 
 I thought not thus the dream would end,- 
 
 Oh, 'twas a hard and bitter waking ! 
 But ceale thy falfenefs to defend. 
 
 Go and forget the heart now breaking. 
 The evening fun may rife to-morrow. 
 
 The parting fhip return to fhore, 
 Alas my hopes have fet in forrow. 
 
 Have fet to rife a9;ain no more. 
 
OUR FATHERS. 
 
 ONG time they bore oppreffion uncomplained. 
 Long time, till tyranny defpotic reigned. 
 Till they could bear no longer, and they prayed 
 Unto the God of battles for His aid. 
 And then they all in folemn concert fwore. 
 Never to reft until from out their fhore. 
 They'd cleanfed the ftain that o'er it like a pall 
 Of death and blacknefs hung, and till through all 
 The length and breadth of their loved land the rays 
 Of Liberty's bright funfhine drove the haze 
 And dark cloud of oppreffion o'er the main. 
 Back to proud Albion's fhores in hafte again. 
 And as the prairie when the firebrand 
 Has touched its border, fo o'er all the land. 
 When once the torch of liberty was fired. 
 The flames quick ran along unquenched, untired. 
 
OurFathers. 53 
 
 Then men, their country's ornament and pride. 
 For freedom fought and bled, for freedom died. 
 To cleanfe Columbia of that tyrant band. 
 The ploughman left the ploughfhare, feized the brand. 
 The ftatefman for the gun, the pen religned ; 
 And young and old, and rich and poor combined. 
 Left home and firelide for the battle-field, 
 Refolved to die or conquer, ne'er to yield ; 
 Refolved to drive the oppreffbr from the land : 
 And though but few, that brave, undaunted band 
 0'ercam£ the tyrant in his llrength and might. 
 And conquered, for their caufe was juft and right. 
 That prayer for aid was anfwered, they fuftained. 
 By God's afliflance. Independence gained. 
 And left to us, whofe proudeft boaft fhould be — 
 Our fathers died to fet their country free. 
 
THE FUTURE. 
 
 HE dim and ihadowy Future ! — who can fay 
 What is the Future ? Not one fmgle day 
 Canil: thou, O mortal, fcan the great ** To 
 Come ! " 
 We know the grave muil be our final home 
 Upon this earth, and that is all we know ; 
 Along the pail: we look — as o'er the fnow 
 The weary traveller, turning, views each mark 
 His foot has made diftinft ; — but through the dark 
 Unknown Futurity, thou canft not peer. 
 Believe ! Make Hope thy guide, and let her cheer 
 Thy onward way ; look upward to thy God, 
 Nor llrive to look beyond ! — And when the fod 
 Covers the clay that now confines thy foul. 
 His hand fhall guide thee to the wifhed-for goal ! 
 frufting in Him alone ; learn from the Pafl 
 To fhun the fnares that fm would 'round thee caft ; 
 
The Future. 55 
 
 Make of thy former life a well-read book, — 
 
 Infcribe it on thy heart, that thou mayfl look 
 
 Upon its page whene'er thy footileps Ilray ; 
 
 Make it a finger-poft to point the way 
 
 That thou muft follow ! — Read the Pall aright, — 
 
 'Twill be a beacon in the darkeft night. 
 
 To light the narrow path that thou fhouldft tread; 
 
 The Pail is for the living, not the dead ! 
 
 See yonder monument that towers on high ! 
 'Tis not alone to tell the pafler by 
 Some patriot, fage, or hero, lies beneath. 
 For whom 'twas raifed. And for the laurel wreath 
 What cares the dead ? He cannot fee it now ; 
 He cannot wear upon his worm-feared brow 
 The marble chaplet that is chifelled here 
 Upon the llone ; or feel the grateful tear 
 We drop upon the flower that bloflbms o'er 
 His lifelefs form. His boat is launched from fliore 
 Upon that fathomlefs and unknown fea — 
 The boundlefs ocean of Eternity ! 
 Come ; read with me the epitaph, — 'twill ipeak 
 Volumes of richell teachings. Let us feek 
 To know the reafon why fuch coflly pile 
 Tells of the dead. What ! Cynic, doll thou fmile — 
 As if the grave-yard could no leflbn tell 
 To fuch as thee ? — Go thou, and read it well ; 
 
56 TheFuture. 
 
 'Grave every epitaph upon thy heart, 
 
 'Twill make thee happier, wifer, than thou art. 
 
 Read this : ** He was a good and honefl: man ; " 
 
 Read, aye, and emulate him, if you can, — 
 
 '' He loved his country, and for her he died." 
 
 Is there no leflbn here ? See, far and wide. 
 
 Your country torn by faftion, and for what f 
 
 Oh ! have ye all {o fpcedily forgot 
 
 The fea of holy blood your Fathers flied ? 
 
 Tear down your monuments, difcntomb your dead. 
 
 Scatter their afhes to the winds of Heaven ! 
 
 Revile their names, and ye may be forgiven, — 
 
 But, the great Fabric they ereded, fpare ! 
 
 Forbear ! — deluded Fools ! In time, forbear ! 
 
 Once fevered, ye can never more unite 
 
 The glorious chain your Fathers forged fo bright ! 
 
 Break but one link and every hope is gone, — 
 
 Not e'en the ftrongeft State can ftand alone ! 
 
 What ! fhall our flag — the banner of the free — 
 
 Be furled forever o'er the boundlefs fea ! 
 
 And wave no more in glory o'er the land ? 
 
 Say, would ye on your Fathers' memory brand 
 
 The damning tale that they fo bravely fought, 
 
 Through long, long years, and bled and died for naught ? 
 
 Wouldft rend afunder every well-known llripe ! — 
 
 Blot out each ftar ? Vile Traitors ! would ye wipe 
 
TheFuture 57 
 
 From ofF the book of Nations what has been, — 
 
 The noblelt page that book has ever fcen, — 
 
 And give one only Ilripe to every State — 
 
 One only rtar ? Paufc, ere it be too late ! 
 
 Think what ye do ! Look backward o'er the Pall, — 
 
 Read there thy country's welfare, — bind her fall 
 
 In loving bonds of Union ! let the fun 
 
 Of Liberty its courfe of glory run. 
 
 Columbia ! — My loved country, rife again 
 
 From thy debafement ! Wafh away the Ilain 
 
 That fullies the bright radiance of thy face ! 
 
 Curfed be thy fons that would their land difgrace ! 
 
 Still may thy glorious Ilandard float unfurled. 
 
 Ever the pride and glory of the world ! 
 
 3* 
 
THE TEMPLE OF WAR, AND THE 
 TEMPLE OF PEACE. 
 
 ARK ! to the fhout that wakes the Eallern world ! 
 
 The flag of battle is again unfurled. 
 
 From Albion's fnow-white cliffs, from Gallia's 
 plain. 
 
 See fteel-clad warriors preffing o'er the main ; 
 From gallant navies floating, fee advance 
 St. George's ftandard and the flag of France, 
 Foemen for ages, now as fi-iends they fight. 
 Their mutual war-cry, " God defend the right ! " 
 Hark ! how with ftarthng clang and horrid jar. 
 All ruiled o'er by peace, the iron bar 
 That clofed the gates of Janus falls to earth. 
 From its wide portals opened haften forth 
 The turbaned Moflem, and a hoft of fpears 
 From Danube'? bank, and giant cuirafliers. 
 
Temple of War and Peace. 59 
 
 Mounted on coal-black Heeds of Norman blood. 
 
 Champing the bit impatient. Now the road 
 
 Shakes 'neath the wheels of a long rumbling train 
 
 From Strafbourg's arfenal. A martial ftrain 
 
 Comes floating on the breeze ; then haften on 
 
 A holl of bearded CoiTacks of the Don ; 
 
 " God and our Church ! " their watchword. Next 
 
 appear 
 The unarmed millions, betwixt hope and fear. 
 Straining their fetters, burning to be free. 
 And eager to revenge long years of tyranny. 
 But all in vain the eye effays to fcan 
 The countlefs throng, though foremoft in the van. 
 And mingling here and there along the line. 
 The Crefcent and the Crofs their folds entwine 
 In loving union. Wondrous fight to fee, 
 Chriftian and Turk arrayed in harmony 
 Againft a Chriftian foe, whofe hated thrall 
 Is fraught with equal danger to them all ! 
 
 The vifion changes, and with glad furprife. 
 Another pifture greets our wond'ring eyes ; 
 Another temple's gates are oped to-day. 
 And to its portals flock a long array 
 Of peaceful warriors, ftrugghng to be firft 
 In every art and fcience. They have nurfed 
 
6o Templf of War and Peace. 
 
 Full many an infant thought, till it has grown 
 A thing of good to all ; men who have known 
 What 'twas to fight and win — a noble band. 
 From diftant climes and our dear native land. 
 Through the long galleries and aifles we fcan 
 The inventive power and mafter-mind of man ; 
 Lift to the bufy fpindles' ceafelefs hum. 
 Singing a fong of peace ! The gorgeous loom 
 Sufpends on every fide with laviili hand 
 The trophies of a battle far more grand 
 Than viftory ever fmiled on. Here we find 
 The bloodlefs conquefts of the immortal mind ; 
 The embodied toil of thoufands here we view. 
 Showing what heads can plan and hands can do. 
 Each art has lent its proudeft works to grace 
 And fcatters gems of beauty o'er the place : 
 The fields, the woods, the flocks, the fea, the mine. 
 Their varied gifts beftow, and all combine 
 To pleafe and to inftruft. Raife high the ftrain. 
 And let the dome reecho back again 
 Our fong of triumph for the ftruggle paft. 
 For trials o'er, fuccefs achieved at laft ! 
 
A COMETARY. 
 
 YSTERIOUS flranger, Harding each flar- 
 gazer ! 
 
 Oh, moil ex-orb-itant ccleftial blazer ! 
 
 Tell me, I pray, of your fidereal flatus : 
 Belong you to the poffe comet- atus 
 Of heavenly fpheres, enrolled to keep the peace — 
 i^'Argo" a member of the Golden Fleece ?) 
 But ftars no longer ferve in the police. 
 So this can't be. I think I've found you out : 
 You've been tale-bearing 'mid the ftars, no doubt. 
 Or, much the fame, perchance in Leflie's pay. 
 You've been illumining the Milky Way. 
 Have you made Jupiter of Juno jealous ? 
 Earth wants enlightening, fo in Latin tellus^ 
 Qiiae fit cometa nemo fibi forte, 
 Contentus eji? Evenit faepe fort^. 
 
62 ACOMETARY. 
 
 A parallax of rupees for an anfwer. 
 
 By Gemini, explain it if you Cancer ! 
 
 Have you been ferenading female ftars ? 
 
 To the intenfe difguft of pa's and Mars, 
 
 Who think your fparking round a bafe intrufion. 
 
 Your kiiTes but elliptical delufion ? 
 
 It may be you've eclipfed that thieviih hero. 
 
 And fome cold night fent Mercury towards Zero. 
 
 Or, did you wink at Venus and enrage her — 
 
 At leaft you're pointed at by Urfa Major. 
 
 Don't hope to parje me with your declination, 
 
 I'm bent 'm-tenfe-\y on an explanation. 
 
 You cannot hide, as through the heavens you fail ; 
 
 That you're a ilar, and thereby hangs a tale. 
 
 I've Saturn hour waiting for your flory. 
 
 Though non-Comet-al, be ex-planet-ory . 
 
 I fear you've rifen above your proper ftation. 
 
 By mean attradion gained your elevation. 
 
 For ioms. Jpecijic caufe affumed your gravity ; 
 
 I fee both through yourfelf and your depravity. 
 
 Why thus perfifl in fuch eccentric courfes ? 
 
 Are they internal or external forces 
 
 That guide your aftions as through fpace you roll ? 
 
 Do you revolve on a magnetic pole 
 
 Like this fame world of ours ? I hope I axis 
 
 A proper queftion, for belief it taxes 
 
ACOMETARY. 63 
 
 To think you wander in this courfe erratic 
 Without plane reafon. Are youfyflematic 
 In what you do ? There now, you're out of fight 
 Without fo much as bidding me good night. 
 That's very rude, but yet I gather from it. 
 You mean to tell me that I cannot comet. 
 
THE SEXTON. 
 
 E who refleds on 
 The trade of a fexton, 
 Doubtlefs will agree 
 'Tis of any calling 
 The mofl appalling. 
 That poffibly can be. 
 
 Air crematical. 
 Emblematical 
 
 Of his mournful trade. 
 Voice funereal. 
 Half minifterial. 
 
 Half a ring of the fpade. 
 
TheSexton. 65 
 
 At font baptifmal. 
 Not as yet difmal. 
 
 He takes his wonted place. 
 Sedately liftening 
 To every chrillening 
 
 With kind, paternal face. 
 
 Next at the wedding. 
 Moil proudly treading. 
 
 Seeming their joy to fhare. 
 With beaming fmile. 
 Along the aifle. 
 
 He ufhers the happy pair. 
 
 To each phyfician 
 
 He bows with fubmiffion. 
 
 And hands a black-edged card; 
 " If it comes in your way, fir, 
 A word pleafe fay, fir. 
 
 For me : the times are hard. 
 
 '* We're both of a trade — 
 Scalpel and fpade 
 
 Follow each other faft ; 
 When you get through, fir. 
 My work I'll do, fir. 
 
 And trull me it will lail. 
 
66 TheSexton. 
 
 "Shrouds, coffins, hearfes. 
 To fuit all purfes, 
 
 With gloves that never fit. 
 If you don't like black 
 I'll take them back 
 
 In trade ; don't mention it." 
 
 He looks around him 
 As if, confound him. 
 
 He dares not fay aloud : 
 " 'Twill give me pleafure 
 To take your meafure 
 
 And order for a fhroud." 
 
 Black gloves his hands on 
 When he ftands on 
 
 Ceremonial gloom ; 
 Head uncovered. 
 As if he hovered 
 
 Still at the door of the tomb. 
 
 His eyes half clofmg. 
 Not as if dozing. 
 
 Standing by to drop. 
 With meafured dallies. 
 The duft and alhes. 
 
 Upon the coffin top. 
 
TheSexton. 67 
 
 He has his place 
 In life's long race 
 
 From firft to lateft breath. 
 You'll find at laft. 
 Run flow or fail. 
 
 He's fure to be in at the death. 
 
 "Who'll be the next on 
 
 My books?" cries the fexton ; 
 
 "Ready by day or night; 
 Give me a call, fir — 
 Sign of the Pall, fir ; 
 
 Ring the fmall bell at the right." 
 
A SERENADE. 
 
 HE filver orb of night 
 Is fliining mild above, 
 A fitting torch to light 
 The holy hour of love. 
 Then, deareft, wake ! 
 For o'er the lake 
 Thy lover flies to meet thee, — 
 While to his oar 
 The anfwering fliore 
 Sends echo back to greet thee. 
 
 Lift ! how amid the trees 
 In heavenly murmur fighs 
 
 The love-fong of the breeze. 
 And every leaf replies. 
 
A S E R E N A D E . 69 
 
 Then, love, let fleep. 
 
 No longer keep 
 Thofe bright eyes from thy lover, — 
 
 But lend their light ^ 
 
 To glad the night. 
 Ere night's fweet reign is over. 
 
 Lift ! how upon the ftrand 
 
 The rippling wavelets break ; 
 They whifper to the land 
 The love-tale of the lake. 
 
 An hour like this 
 
 Is made for bHfs, 
 Oh, leave me not forfaken, — 
 
 Below, above. 
 
 All, all is love. 
 Then 'waken, love, awaken ! 
 
NAIL OUR FLAG TO THE MAST. 
 
 AIL our flag to the mail ! while the bunting is 
 new, 
 ^^ And our fliip in the roadftead lies ready for 
 
 failing. 
 Her rigging is ftrong, and her compafs is true. 
 
 And we fear not the foe or the tempells prevailing. 
 Her keel was well laid. 
 Her mails are well flayed. 
 And of live Yankee oak every timber is made ; 
 Then wooed by the zephyr or rent by the blaft. 
 We'll fteer on our courfe with flag nailed to the mall. 
 
 Nail our flag to the maft, ere the breaking of day. 
 To catch the firil: beam of the fun at its rifing ; 
 
 Then our fails flieeted home, and the anchor aweigh. 
 We'll ftart from the land, every danger defpifing. 
 
Nail our Flag to the Mast. 71 
 
 Though the fierce tempell: wrack 
 
 Follow fall on our track. 
 Right onward we'll prefs, nor at danger look back ; 
 And over the billow our bark fhall Ry faft. 
 With the ilars and the ftripes firmly nailed to the maft. 
 
 Nail our flag to the^iail ! then blow high or blow low. 
 
 Come funfhine or ftorm, ftill that banner fo peerlefs 
 Shall wave o'er our heads as right onward we go. 
 
 For our feamen are ftanch and our captain is fearlefs. 
 Though in fhreds every fail 
 Shall be rent by the gale. 
 Not a heart fhall defpond, not a cheek fhall turn pale; 
 But we'll work with a will till the danger is paft. 
 We're fafe, come what may, with flag nailed to the mafl. 
 
 Nail our flag to the mall ! that all nations may know 
 
 It floats over freemen who'll ever defend it. 
 Will ne'er haul it down, though overwhelming the foe. 
 Though the fmoke may enfliroud, though the war hail 
 may rend it. 
 When the fmoke clears away 
 At the clofe of the fray. 
 Our flag, though in tatters, we'll proudly difplay 
 And e'en though we fmk, ftill unconquered at laft. 
 We'll fmk 'neath the wave with flag nailed to the maft. 
 
72 
 
 Nail our Flag to the Mast. 
 
 Nail our flag to the mail ! 'Tis the flag of the free. 
 
 While the deeds of our fathers are hallowed in ftory. 
 Our llandard a terror to tyrants fliall be. 
 To freemen a beacon of honor and glory. 
 Spite of wind and of rain. 
 On its folds not a ftain. 
 Our flag fliall untarniflied forever remain ; 
 In peace or in war, from the iirft to the laft. 
 Dear country, fpeed on, with flag nailed to the mall. 
 
 Nail our flag to the mail ! In the morning of youth. 
 
 Ere the fky of our life is o'erclouded by forrow. 
 Make Honor our watchword, our beacon-liar Truth ; 
 Let defeat for to-day teach fuccefs for to-morrow. 
 Thus true to the end. 
 When humbly we bend 
 Our knee, and look upward in fearch of a friend. 
 We'll find one aloft ever conilant and fail 
 To the man who through life nails his flag to the mail. 
 
SPRING TIME. 
 
 PRING time is coming, all laden with flowers. 
 Spreading her mantle of green o'er the bowers. 
 The lark, high in air, is beginning to fmg 
 Her fong of rejoicing, to welcome the Spring. 
 Brooks are flowing. 
 Life bellowing. 
 Lovely Nature feems to fling 
 All her charms. 
 With willing arms. 
 In the lap of blooming Spring. 
 
 Silver-haired Winter before her is flying. 
 In the depths of the valley unwept he is dying, — 
 Save the tears of compaflion that pity may wring 
 From the bright eyes of April— the infant of Spring. 
 4 
 
74 
 
 Spring Time. 
 
 Birds arc mating, 
 
 Blifs relating. 
 In each tuneful ftrain they fing ; 
 
 Haftc, then, dearcft ! 
 
 Love fcems ncareft, 
 Holieft, brighteft, in the Spring. 
 
THE YACHTMAN'S SONG. 
 
 WAKE, boys, awake ! 'Tis the dawning of day, 
 The fignal is flying, and we muft away ; 
 The breeze is fall lifting the mills from the fea, 
 And, Hke fmoke-wreaths, they're drifting away 
 on our lee. 
 Quick, loofe all your fails, let the halyards be manned. 
 And hoill away brifkly, boys, hand over hand ; 
 Now jump to the windlafs, belay, boys, belay ! 
 Heave hard, now flie breaks, and the anchor's away. 
 Then pafs round the bottle, a bumper we'll drain ; 
 Fill high every goblet with foaming champagne ; 
 And aye, as we drink, boys, our toall it fliall be — 
 The girls that we love, and a life on the fea. 
 
 A hand by the helm, up the jib, aft the flieet ; 
 The wind is ahead, down the bay we muft beat. 
 But we'll fkim o'er the wave, in the eye of the gale, 
 While the fpray dafhcs high in the luff of our fail. 
 
']6 The Yachtman's Song. 
 
 Keep her clofe to the wind, we arc ncaring the fhore. 
 And, hark, on the flrand how the loud breakers roar. 
 Quick ready about, put your helm hard a-lee ; 
 Let fly your jib-fheet, round flic comes merrily. 
 Then pafs round the bottle, &c., &c. 
 
 See, fee, boys, the wind is beginning to veer ; 
 Eafe off every fheet, on our courfe we can fleer ; 
 Get your fquare-fail acrofs, on your main boom a guy. 
 Hurrah, boys, hurrah, like a fea-bird we fly. 
 The wind blows more frefti, and the ftorm-fcud flies low. 
 Quick, reef every fail, the mall bends like a bow. 
 Our gallant craft heeds not, though tempells may rave. 
 And the lightning with plumes tip the caps of the wave. 
 Then pafs round the bottle, &c., &c. 
 
 At laft, boys, the long wiflied for haven we near ; 
 Our friends on the fliore greet our gun with a cheer ; 
 The anchor let go, flow fwing round to the tide. 
 Furl the fails, coil the ropes, and fecurely we ride. 
 Three cheers for our yacht, boys, three cheers for our 
 
 crew. 
 Three cheers for our flag, boys, the red, white, and blue ; 
 Three cheers for our club, boys, and as for the reft. 
 Hurrah, boys, hurrah for the girls we love beft. 
 Then pafs round the bottle, &c., &c. 
 
SAM. 
 
 H, my name it is Sam, and my Uncle, d'ye fee. 
 Is known very well to the world far and near, — 
 For he's broad and he's long. 
 And he's tough and he's llrong. 
 
 And he never does wrong. 
 
 And he never knows fear. 
 
 He grows very fall, does my Uncle, d'ye fee. 
 Though but a child yet, ne'er a giant's as tall. 
 And he's bound to expand 
 O'er the fea and the land. 
 And he'll ne'er flop his hand. 
 Till he's gathered it all. 
 
 He never fays die, does my Uncle, d'ye fee. 
 Ne'er knows when he's whipped, for he never was 
 taught it. 
 
78 Sam., 
 
 And when he is rights 
 
 He'll continue to fight 
 
 Through the day, through the night. 
 
 Till the foeman has caught it. 
 
 He's a regular brick, is my Uncle, d'ye fee. 
 
 And he's bid all the world to his boundlefs pofleffions. 
 
 Both the fmall and the great. 
 
 So I fear it's too late 
 
 To lluit down the gate. 
 
 And fhut out their aggreffions. 
 
TEDDY O'MURPHY. 
 
 AM Teddy O'Murphy by name. 
 
 My afFeftions will yet be the death of me, — 
 From the County of Kerry I came. 
 
 For 'twas there that I firft drew the breath 
 of^me. 
 I've a fondnefs for fweet mountain dew, 
 
 'A weaknefs for backy, Fm thinking. 
 For plenty of nothing to do. 
 
 Save conflantly eating and drinking. 
 
 My afFedlions I place on the fex. 
 
 Whenever I have opportunity ; 
 And I'd like very well to annex 
 
 That part of the Mormon community. 
 
8o Teddy O'Murphy. 
 
 Who my firfl fweetheart was, I forget, — 
 'Twas Kate Dennis or Peggy O'Brien, — 
 
 The one is a fpinfler as yet. 
 
 The other ran ofF with Pat Ryan. 
 
 I next courted Molly McGce, 
 
 And I fwear that I loved her diflraftedly ; 
 But I quickly got tired, you fee. 
 
 The courting went on fo protradledly. 
 My next flame was Bridget O'Toole, 
 
 And flic was the hoighth of benignity. 
 But flie handled a three-legged fl:ool 
 
 In a way that offended my dignity. 
 
 Now Bridget is Miftrefs O'Flynn, 
 
 Kate Dennis is Widow O'Mopperty, 
 With three flirapping girls and one twin. 
 
 While Peggy's another man's property. 
 But there's fifli as good left in the fea. 
 
 If a man only knows how to capture them 
 And the girls are all waiting for me, — 
 
 Och, Teddy's the boy to enrapture them. 
 
SONGS, ETC., FROM RIP VAN 
 WINKLE. 
 
 Chorus of Spirits. 
 
 jVENING is falling o'er meadow and lea. 
 Flinging its Ihadow o'er rock and o'er tree ; 
 Clouds too are rifing to darken the fcene. 
 Veiling the heavens where ftars fhould be feen ; 
 At fuch a time, 'tis ours to come 
 From the portals of the tomb. 
 From our far off fpirit home. 
 Whether it be 
 Beneath the fea. 
 Or whether we lay- 
 In grave yard clay. 
 Then gather ! gather ! gather ! 
 
 Spirits of the dead ; 
 Gather ! gather ! gather ! 
 
 From your grafs-grown bed ; 
 4* 
 
82 Songs, etc., from 
 
 Gather from the well-filled graves 
 
 Dotting hill and plain; 
 Gather from the ocean caves 
 
 Where ye long have lain 
 'Neath the waves. 
 
 The ftorm King now marflials his legions on high. 
 
 On the wings of the lightning he rides through the fky ; 
 
 Lift to the thunder, that bellows afar, 
 
 *Tis the found of the wheels of his terrible car; 
 
 Summoned every twentieth year. 
 
 When the leaf falls yellow and fere. 
 
 Brother fpirits we muft gather here. 
 
 Come from the hills ! 
 
 Come from the rills ! 
 
 Come from the graves ! 
 
 Come from the waves ! 
 
 Then gather, gather, gather 
 'Neath the lightnings bright ; 
 
 Gather, gather, gather 
 With us here to-night ; 
 
 Gather on the mountain fide. 
 Let us merry be. 
 
 Make them echo far and wide 
 With our jolUty 
 
 At even tide. 
 
RipVan Winkle. 83 
 
 Song. 
 
 The day is done. 
 
 The fetting fun 
 Has faded in the weft ; 
 
 The ftars of night 
 
 Are fhining bright. 
 The birds are gone to reft. 
 
 Then brothers dear. 
 
 Come gather here. 
 Each anxious thought refign ; 
 
 We'U drink the fair. 
 
 And drown all care 
 In the fparkling tears of the vine. 
 
 We'll banifti gloom 
 
 Till morning come ; 
 Though clouds of forrow lower. 
 
 Your goblet fill. 
 
 And every ill 
 Shall own its magic power. 
 
 This night Ihall glee 
 
 Triumphant be. 
 
84 Songs, etc., from 
 
 And rofy wreaths entwine. 
 To crown the bowl. 
 And glad the foul 
 
 In the fparkling tears of the vine. 
 
 Till death draws near. 
 We'll gather here. 
 
 And quaff the cup of gladnefs ; 
 Though fortune frown. 
 In wine we'll drown. 
 
 Ere breathed, the figh of fadnefs. 
 And when at length. 
 With fading flrength. 
 
 Our life we mull refign. 
 To mem'ries paft. 
 We'll drink our laft. 
 
 In the fparkling tears of the vine. 
 
 Ballad. 
 
 When circled round in youth's glad fpring 
 With friends we love and hearts we prize. 
 
 When buds of hope are bloflbming. 
 And all feems bright as fummer fkies. 
 
Rip Van Winkle. 85 
 
 Sweet birds fing out from bufh and fpray 
 
 While gayly pafs the fleeting hours. 
 As down the path of life we llray, 
 
 We leave the thorns, but pluck the flowers. 
 
 But all too foon the fpring is gone. 
 
 And hope with youth and fpring departs ; 
 The winter winds life's path have ftrown 
 
 With withered leaves and withered hearts. 
 And though in mem'ry oft we tread 
 
 Along the joyous pafl again. 
 We weep for friends and flowers all dead. 
 
 Sorrow and thorns alone remain. 
 
 Prayer, 
 
 Protefting power, on thee I call ; 
 
 To thee for aid I humbly pray ; 
 Surrounding fears my heart appall. 
 
 Which thou alone canft drive away. 
 My finking Ipirit has no guide. 
 
 Save thee alone, and only thee ; 
 I am bereft of all befide ; 
 
 Protefting power, oh pity me. 
 
86 Songs, etc., from 
 
 Low before thy footftool bending. 
 Hear the humble prayer afcending ! 
 God of battles thou defending, 
 
 Vift'ry fhall our conflidl crown. 
 By the tears of widows weeping ! 
 By the blood of freemen fleeping ! 
 Take our country to thy keeping ! 
 
 On thy fuppliants. Lord, look down. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 God of battles, hear our prayer ! 
 
 Low before thy throne we bow ; 
 Shield us 'neath thy guardian care. 
 
 Lift our fupplications now ! 
 
 God of battles, aid our land ! 
 
 Save us in this trying hour. 
 Support the felf-devoted band 
 
 From oppreffion's mighty power. 
 
 God of battles, hear our vow ! 
 
 Be it regiftered on high ; 
 We will free our country now. 
 
 Or unconquered bravely die ! 
 
Rip V A N W INKLE. 87 
 
 Song, 
 
 Come, gather round, my comrades brave. 
 
 And fill each goblet high ; 
 One moment let us turn away 
 
 From thoughts of battle nigh. 
 And as we each our goblet drain. 
 
 Let memory remind us. 
 And give a tear to thofe fo dear. 
 
 The friends we've left behind us. 
 
 Then be the toall " To abfent friends ! " 
 
 And let the cup run o'er. 
 For we, perchance, may never hear 
 
 Their loving voices more. 
 To-morrow dying on the field. 
 
 The fetting fun may find us ; 
 But we fhall fall, beloved by all 
 
 The friends we've left behind us. 
 
88 Songs, ETC., FROM 
 
 Camp Song. 
 
 Hurrah for the life the foldier leads, 
 When he fights in his country's caufe ; 
 
 His fword, the only friend he needs. 
 At Freedom's call he draws. 
 
 When the weary march of the day is done. 
 We halt and encamp for the night 
 
 By fome river's fide, where the fetting fun 
 Gilds the llream with its dying light. 
 
 Wc pitch our tents 'neath the fp reading trees. 
 
 And light our cheerful fires ; 
 To whofe flame the circling infc6l flees. 
 
 And, kifling its death, expires. 
 
 We ftation the watch, left the foe fliould come 
 While the worn-out camp repofes ; 
 
 Then we gather in groups and talk of home. 
 Till the tired eyehd clofes. 
 
 With the fun we rife, then away we fpced. 
 
 And ere long are in the battle ; 
 On the foe we prefs, and little heed 
 
 Dcath-fliots that round us rattle. 
 
Rip Van Winkle. 
 
 At beat of drum, when the fight is done. 
 We count our leflened number — 
 
 And we join in the fhout for battle won, 
 A tear for the brave who flumber. 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 Spread our banners to the wind. 
 
 For our glorious tafk is done ; 
 
 Chains no more Columbia bind. 
 
 Freedom's fons have fought and won. 
 Our ftarry flag waves proudly o'er us. 
 Days of peace rife bright before us. 
 Echo anfwers back the chorus. 
 Union, Freedom, Wafliington. 
 
 Weep not for the brave who died — 
 In their country's caufe they fell : 
 
 Let the tears of grief be dried — 
 In their country's heart they dwell. 
 
 They have gained immortal glory. 
 
 Theirs is an undying llory ; 
 
 Smiling youth and grandfire hoary. 
 
 Of their glorious deeds fliall tell. 
 
90 Rip Van Winkle. 
 
 Ballad. 
 
 Alone, all alone, in this vide world of forrow. 
 No kind friend to comfort, no children to cheer, 
 
 No joy for to-day and no hope for to-morrow. 
 And gone is each heart that I ever held dear. 
 
 All the friends of my youth one by one have departed — 
 The tomb-flones repeat the fad tale that they died ; 
 
 My wife, too, is gone, and ere long, broken-hearted, 
 I fliall tranquil repofe in the grave by her Ude. 
 
 Ah, say, arc there none that will greet me with gladnefs r 
 Are there none to remind me of happy days pail ? 
 
 No, all, all are gone that would grieve at my fadncfs — 
 Then welcome the tomb that receives me at laft. 
 

 
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