1 ■"'■ ' ■ ' • 'i ■':^f,^] ife' i^.^^^.^;a^' s®ii ^TH3^*o!^ .mi" LIBRARY OF CONGRESS, COPYRIGHT OFFICE. No registration -^^-tttte of this bool< as a preliminary to copyright protec- tion has been found. IViAR 17 1910 (Apr. o, 1901—5,000.) /V/V^ Forwarded to Order Division Class. Book. M± 1^6^ FAMOUS FUGITIVE POEMS COLLECTED AND EDLTED ROSSITER JOHNSON Does he paint? he fain would write a poem ; Does he write? he tuin would paint a picture, — Put to proof art alien lo the artist's, Once, and only once, and for One only. RoiiEKT Browning. NEW YORK HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY 1909 Copyright, 1880, 1890 BY HENRY HOLT & CO. Copyright, 1908 BY HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY Copyright Office. NOTE TO THE THIRD IMPRESSION. This book was originally published as " Famous Single and Fugitive Poems." Experience seems to in- dicate that the shorter title of the present issue is prefer- able. The volume consists of well-known poems by authors who are unknown, or whose works were never collected, or whose collected works are not found in ordinary home libraries. PREFACE. There are wide differences in the fame of the poems here collected, as well as in their merits. Some are familiar to everybody that reads poetry at all; others find reputation and perpetuity only with particular classes. Some are admired only by those who know nothing of real poetry, others almost require poets for appreciative j'eaders. A few, like those of Bishop Berkeley and Michael Barry, have been saved from oblivion by a single happy line or quatrain ; while the richness and perfection of many leave us in wonder that their authors produced no more. If critical judgment in such matters is worth any- thing when opposed to a popular verdict, some of these authors have written, for no reward at all, better poems than those that have given them fame. However that may be, this volume is intended to represent popular rather than critical taste, and to include all the poems in the language that fairly come under its title,— excepting only those numerous anonymous ballads, belonging to the early centuries of our literature, which are preserved in Percy's and other similar collections. It is not expected that any one reader will prize all the pieces here brought together ; if each finds what he looks for, no one need be offended because the book also in- cludes some that he could have spared. Collecting poetry IV PREFACE. is like poking the fire ; nobody can sit by and see it done, without thinking^hat he himself could do it a little bet- ter, — as in truth he could, if it were for him alone. In all such work it is necessary to make a personal equation — a small allowance for quickness or slowness of appre- hension in the individual. Taking this into account, I hope the volume will be found to exhibit a generous ap- preciation of widely varied expressions of the poetic art. In a few instances the plan of the collection has been literally, but I think not essentially, transcended. Charles Wolfe wrote two other poems equally famous if not equally popular with '-The Burial of Sir John Moore," and Francis M. Finch's "Nathan Hale" had an estab- lished place before he wrote "The Blue and the Gray." The best solution for this apparent difficulty seemed to be to include them all. My thanks are due to living writers represented, for permission to use their poems. The utmost pains have bi en taken to make the text absolutely correct, and in many instances the author's own manuscript has been used. Where the poems have any special history, it will be found in the notes at the end of the book. R. J. New York, September 1, 1890. CONTENTS. Afar in the Desert . Angler's Wish The Ann Hathaway, Annuity, The Antony and Cleopatra, AuLD Robin Gray, . Balaklava, . Ballad of Agincourt, The Beacon, The Beggar, The . Bells of Shandon, The Bivouac of the Dead, The Blue and the Gray, The Bonnie George Campbell, Bkaes of Yarrow, The BuiDE, The Bucket, The ... Burial of Beranger, . Burial of Moses, Burial of Sir John Moore, Burns, Ode on the Cente- nary of . Carcassonne, . Carmen Bellicosum, . Chameleon, The Children, The Christmas Hymn, A Churchyard, Lines writ- ten in A . Civil War, . PAGE Thomas Pr ingle . 119 Izaak Walton . 23 William Shakespeare? . 282 Oeorge Outram 142 William H. Lytle 217 Lady Anne Barnard 88 Alexander B. Meek 186 Michael Drayton 10 Paul Moon James 122 Thomas Moss 96 Francis Muhony . 149 Tlieodore O'Hara 197 Francis M. Finch 291 Anonymous 36 William Hamilton 52 Sir John Suckling 24 Samuel Woodworth 115 Alfred Watts . 309 Cecil Frances Alexander 249 Charles Wolfe . 276 Isa Craig Knox 229 Oustave Nadaud 313 Ouy H. McMaster 220 James Merrick . 65 Charles M. Dickinson . 274 Alfred Domett . 180 Herbert Knoinles . 130 Charles D. Shanly ? . 262 VI CONTENTS. Closing Year, The George B. Prentice 135 Cloud, The . John Wilson 114 CONNEL AND FlORA, Alexander Wilson 95 Contented Mind. A Joshua iSylvester 15 C0UNTEUSI6JJ, The . Fitz-James O'Brien 264 Crossing THfe Rappahan- nock A nonymous 314 Cuckoo, To the . John Logan . 87 Cuddle Doon, . Alexander Anderson 331 CuMNOR Hall, William J Mickle 72 Curfew Must not King To- night, Eosa Hartwick Thorpe 258 Death-Bed, A James Aldrich 179 Death OF King Bomba, The Anonymotis 293 Death of Nai'oleon, The Isaac McLellan 151 Death's Final Conquest, James Shirley . 24 Doneraile, a Litany for Patrick <)' Kelly . 106 Doris Arthur Munhy . 221 Driving Home the Cows, Ante Putnam Osgood . 267 Easter. Bewail S. Cutting 328 Exequy, .... Henry King 19 Exile to his Wife, The Joseph Brenan . 223 First Miracle, The Richard GrasJiaw . 279 Florence Vane, . Ph.- lip P. Cooke. 190 Forging of the Anchor, The Samuel Ferguso7i 146 Gaffer Gray, . Thomas Holcroft . 85 Geehale, Henry R. Schoolcraft 127 Gltjggity Glug, George Colman 158 Golden Wedding, The David Gray 294 Good Ale, John Still 18 Grave of Bonaparte, The H S. Washburn? . 152 Grongar Hill, John Dyer . 46 Groves of Blarney, The Richard A. Millikin . 93 Happy Land, The . Andrew Young 157 Health, A . . . Edward C. Pinkney . 138 CONTENTS. Vli Helen op Kikkconnel, . Here She Goes— and There She Goes. . Hermit, The Heroes, Hospital, In the Hundred Years to Come, A Hylas, .... If I SHOULD die To-Ntght, Indian Gold Coin, To an luisH Emigrant, Lament of the Ivy Green, The 1 Would not Live Alway, Javanese Poem, A . Jolly Old Pedagocsue, The Last Redoubt. The LiFK, Light, Light. Lincoln. Abraham . Little Goose, A Love me Little, Love me Long, Lucy's Flittin'. Lye, The Man's Mortality, . Mariners Dream, The Mary's Dream, Memory ok thk Dead, Thk Milton's Praykr of Pa TIENCE, , Mistress OF the House, The MlTHERLESi^ BaIRN, ThE Modest Wit, A Moonlight, PAGE JoJin Mayne ... 93 James Nack . . l'")8 Thomaa Parnell . . 87 Edna Dean Pi'octor . 317 Mary W. Rowland . 299 William G. Brown . 208 Anonymous . . 284 Belle E. Smith . . 8'29 John Ley den . . 100 L'ldy Dufferin . . ^5~t Charles JJichnis . 181 William A. Muhlenherfi 128 Edriard Domnes Dekker 279 George Arnold . . 22G Alfred Austin . . SJIG Anna L. Barhanld . 83 Francis W. Bmirdillon 333. William Pitt Palmer . 177 Tom Taylor ■ . 19:! Eliza yproat Turner . 270 Anonymous . . 10 William Laidlaw . 105 Sir Walter RaleigJi, . 2 Simon Wastel . . 6 William Dimond . 131 John Lowe ... 89 John Kelts Ingram 195 Elizabeth Lloyd Howell . 253 LeUie Walter . . 297 Williain Tliom . .117 Selleck Osborn . Ill Robert Kelley Weeks 318 vm CONTENTS. Mortality, William Knox . 122 My Atn Countree, Mary Lee Demarest 301 My Dear and Only Love, Marquis of Montrose . 27 My Maryland, James R. Randall 359 My Mind to me a Kingdom IS, . William Byrd 1 Nathan Hale, Francis M. Finch 289 Nautilus and the Ammo- nite. The . 0. F. Richardson . 218 Nearer, my God, to Thee, tiarah Flower Adams 199 Night, .... Joseph Blanco White 99 Nothing to Wear, William Allen Butler 207 Ocean, The John Augustus Shea 307 Old Canoe, The . Emily R. Page . 247 Old Grimes, Albert 0. Oreene . 133 Old Sergeant, The Forceythe Willson 234 Old Sexton, The Park Benjamin . 175 may I ,ioiN THE Choir, George Eliot 330 Only a Baby Small, Matthias Barr 226 Only Waiting, Frances Laughton Mace 248 Orphan Boy, The . Amelia Opie 97 Over the River, Nancy Priest Wakefield 232 Parting with his Books, On . William Roscoe 284 Passage, The . Ludwig Uhland . 282 Pauper's Drive, The . Thomas Noel 189 Petrified Fern, The Mary L. Bolles Branch 302 Philosopher's Scales, The Jane Taylor 109 Picket Guard, The Ethel Lynn Beei's 263 Place where Man should Die, The . Michael J. Barry 202 Polish Boy, The . Ann S. Stephens . 182 Popping Corn, Anonymous 268 Private op the Buffs, The Sir Francis H. Doyle . 176 Prospect op Planting Arts AND Learning in Amer- ica, On the Oeorge Berkeley 44 CONTENTS. IX PAGE Rain on the Roof, Coates Kinney 244 Reion of Law, Francis T Palgrave 324 Revelry in India, Bartholomew Bowling . 256 Riddle, A . . . Catherine Fanshawe . 109 Rising of the Moon, The John K. Casey 258 Rock me to Sleep, Elizabeth Akers Allen 224 Roll-Call. Nathaniel 0. Shepherd 316 Sailok's Wife, The Jean Adam . 76 Saint Patjiick, Henry Bennett . 113 Sally in ouu Alley, . Henry Carey 44 School Mistress, The . William t-henaione 56 She Died in Beauty, . Charles Doyne Hlltry 163 Shermans March to the Sea. Samuel H. M. Byers 265 Sidney, Lament for Sir Philip . Mathew Roydon . 5 Skeleton, Lines on a Anonymous 201 Soldier, The William Smyth 95 Soliloquy, A Walter Harte . 51 Song, — Go, forget me. Charles Wolfe 278 Song, — If I had thought. Charles Wolfe . 277 Song,— Love Still has, Sir Charles Sedley 26 Song of Rorek, John W. Weidenieyer 319 Song of the Western Men, Robert S. Hawker 310 Soul's Defiance, The Lamnia Stoddard 116 Spinning-wheel Song, JohnF. Waller 308 Splendid Shilling, The John Philips 32 Stanzas Richard Henry Wilde 118 Star- Spangled Banner, The Francis Scott Key 103 Steam, The Song of George W. Cutter 204 Swallow, To a . Jane Wels7i Carlyle . 311 Tacking Ship off Shore, Walter Mitchell . 295 Take thy Old Cloak About Thee. Anonyinoiis 13 Tale of a Tuu The New F. W N. Bayley 164 Tears op Scotland, The Tobias Sn^dlett 69 The Dule s i this Uonnet O' xMlNE, . Edwin Wanyh 191 CONTENTS. The Tears I Shed, . Three Sons, The Three Warnings, The Time and Eternity, Tired Mothers, Too Late, Toper's Apology, The . TULOOM, Twins, The Two Worlds, The Vanitas Vanitatum, Verses, Vkiar of Bkay, The Vi.-iT FuoM 1ST. Nicholas A Waly, Waly, but Love be Bonny, We'll Go to Sea no ^Ioke, We I'arted in Silence, What Constitutes A State, What does it Matter? WiiA r IS Time ? What my Lover Said, What the End shall be. When Shall we Three Meet Again V . Whistler, The Why thus Longing? Widow Malone, . Willie Winkie, Willy Drowned in Yarrow, Wonderland, . Ye Gentlemen op England Y^UKON Cradle-Song, A . Notes, Index of First Links, PAGE Helen Cranstoun Stewart 99 John Moultrie . 139 Hester Thrale 80 Horatius Bonar 300 May Riley Smith 272 Fitz Hugh Ludlow 289 Charles Morris 78 Erastus W- Ellsworth 308 Henry S. Leigh . 269 Mortimer Collins 248 Gerald Griffin 280 Chediock Tichehorne . 9 Anoni/mous 71 Clemen i C. Moore 103 Anonymous 68 Mm Corbett 125 Julia Crawford 285 Sir William Jones 86 Noah Barker 335 William Marsden 90 Homer Greene 333 Frances Browne 240 Anonymous 84 Robert Story 124 Harriet Winslow Sewall 206 Cliarles Ixmr . 153 William Miller 246 Anonymous 8 Crudock Newton . 288 Martyn Parker 26 William H. Ball 280 339 359 FAMOUS SINGLE AND FUGITIVE POEMS. iHs iidint) to mt a Ki'ngtiom 10. My mind to me a kingdom is, Such perfect joy therein I find A-s far exceeds all earthly bliss That God or nature hath assigned; Though much I want that most would have, Yet still my mind forbids to crave. Content I live, this is my stay : I .;eel< no more than may suffice: I press to hear no hau^'lity sway: Look! what I liutk, my mind supplies. 1.0! thus I triuiii])li hke a king, Content with what my mind doth bring. I see how plenty surfeits oft, And hasty climbers soonest fall; I see that such as sit aloft Mishap doth threaten most of all : These get with toil and keep with fear; Such cares my mind could never bear. SINGLE FAMOUS POEMS. Some have too much, yet still they crave . I little have, yet seek no more ; They are but poor, tliough niueh they liave, And I am rich with little store. They poor, I rich ; they beg, I give ; They lack, I lend ; they pine, I live. I laugh not at another's loss, I grudge not at another's gain : No worldly wave my mind can toss, I brook that is another's bane : I fear no foe, nor fawn on friend ; I loathe not life, nor dread mine end, I wish but what I have at will, I wander not to seek for more, I like the plain, I climb no hill. In greatest storms I sit on shore. And laugh at them that toil in vain. To get what must be lost again. My wealth is health and perfect ease. My conscience clear my chief defense ; I never seek by bribes to please. Nor by desert to give offense ; Thus do I live, thus will I die, Would all did so as well as I. William Byrd. GoE, soule, the bodie's guest, Upon a thanklesse arrant; Feare not to touche the best — The truth shall be thy warrant I Goe, since I needs must dye, And give the world the lye. THE LYE. Goe tell the court it glowes And shines like rotten wood; Goe tell the clnirch it showes What 's good, and doth no good; If church and court reply, Then give them both the lye. Tell potentates they live Acting by others' actions — Not loved unlesse they give. Not strong but by their factions , If potentates reply, Give potentates the lye. Tell men of high condition. That rule affairs of state, Their purpose is ambition. Their practice only hate; And if they once reply. Then give them all the lye. Tell them that brave it most They beg for more by spending, Who ir their greatest cost Seek nothing but commending; And if they make reply. Spare not to give the lye. Tell zeale it lacks devotion ; Tell love it is but lust ; Tell time it is Imt motion; Tell llesii it is but dust; And wish tlicm not reply. For thou uHist give the lye. Tell age it daily wasteth; Tell honour how it alters; SINGLE FAMOUS POEMS. Tell beauty how she blasteth ; Tell favour how she falters : And as they then reply, Give each of them the lye. Tell wit how much it wrangles In tickle points of nicenesse; Tell wisdome she entangles Herselfe in over-wisenesse ; And if they do reply, Straight give them both the lye. Tell physicke of her boldnesse ; Tell skill it is pretension ; Tell charity of coldnesse; Tell law it is contention; And as they yield reply. So give them still the lye. Tell fortune of iier blindnesse; Tell nature of decay ; Tell friendsiup of unkindnesse; Tell justice of delay ; And if they daie reply. Then give them all the lye. Tell arts they have no soundnesse, But vary by esteeming; Tell schooles they want profoundnesse, And stand too much on seeming; If arts and schooles reply, Give arts and schooles the lye. Tell faith it 's lied the citie; Tell how the country erreth ; Tell, manhood shakes off pitie; Tell, vertue least preferreth ; LAMENT FOR SIR PHILIP SIDNEY. And if they do reply, Spare not to give the lye. So, when thou hast, as I Commanded thee, done blabbing — Although to give the lye Deserves no less than stabbing — Yet stab at thee who will, No stab the soule can kill Sir Walter Raleigh. ILament foe Sbit ^f)iU9 Si^neg. Von knew — who knew not Astrophel ? That I should live to say I knew, And have not in possession still I — Things known permit me to renew. Of him you know his merit such I cannot say — you hear — too much. Within these woods of Arcady He chief delight and pleasure took; And on the mountain Partheny, Upon the crystal liquid brook, The muses met him every day, — Taught him to sing, and write, and say. When he descended down the mount His personage seemed most divine; A thousand graces one might count Upon his lovely, cheerful eyne. To hear him speak, and see him smile, You were in Paradise the while. A sweet, attractive kind of grace ; A full assurance given by looks ; SINGLE FAMOUS POEMS. Continual comfort in a face; The lineaments of gospel books: I trow that countenance cannot lie Whose thoughts are legible in the eye. Above all others this is he Who erst approved in his song That love and honor might agree, And that pure love will do no wrong. Sweet saints, it is no sin or blame To love a man of, virtuous name. Did never love so sv.'eetly bi-eathe In any mortal breast before ; Did never muse ins{)ire beneath A poet's brain with tiner store. He wrote of love with high conceit, And beauty reared above her height. Mathew Roydon. ittan's iWoctalitg. Like as the damask rose you see, Or like the blossoms on the tree, Or like the dainty flower of May, Or like the morning of the day. Or like the sun, or like the shade. Or like the gourd which Jonas had ; Even such is man, whose thread is spun. Drawn out and cut, and so is done. The rose withers, the blossom blasteth. The flower fades, the morning hasteth, The sun sets, the shadow flies. The gourd consumes, and man — he dies! Like to the grass that 's newly sprung, Or hke a tale that 's new begun, .I/.4iV\S MORTALITY. Or like a bird that 's here to-day. Or like the pearled dew of May, Or like an hour, or like a span, Or like the singing of a swan; Even such is man, who lives Ly breath, Is here, now there, in life and death. The grass withers, the tale is ended, The bird is flown, the dew 's ascegded. The hour is short, the span not long, The swan near death, — man's life is done ' Like to a bubble in the brook. Or in a glass much like a look. Or like a shuttle in a weaver's hand, Or like the writing on the sand, Or like a thought, or like a dream, Or like the gliding of a stream ; Even such is man, who lives by breai,h. Is here, now there, in life and death. The bubble 's out, the look 's forgot, The shuttle 's flung, the writing 's blot, The thought is past, the dream is gone, The water glides, — man's life is done I Like to a blaze of fond delight. Or like a morning clear and bright, Or like a frost, or like a shower. Or like the pride of Babel's tower. Or like the hour that guides the time, Or like to Beauty in her prime ; Even such is man, whose glory lends That life a blaze or two, and ends. The morn 's o'ercast, joy turned to pain, The frost is thawed, dried up the rain, The tower falls, the hour is run. The beauty lost, — man's life is done! SINGLE FAMOUS POEMS. Like to an arrow from the bow, Or like swift course of water-flow, Or like that time "twixt flood and ebb, Or like the spider's tender web. Or like a race, or like a goal, Or like the dealing of a dole ; Even such is man, whose brittle state Is always subject unto Fate. The arrow 's shot, the flood soon spent, The time 's no time, the web soon rent. The race soon run, the goal soon won. The dole soon dealt, — man's life is done I Like to the lightning from the sky, Or like a post that quick doth hie, Or like a quaver in a short song, Or like a journey three days long, Or like the snow when summer's come, Or like the pear, or like the plum ; Even such is man, who heaps up sorrow. Lives but this day, and dies to-morrow. The lightning 's past, the post must go, The song is short, the journey 's so, The pear doth rot, the plum doth fall, The snow dissolves, — and so must all ! Simon Wasteu SSafllg ISrotoneti in ¥artoto. " Willy 's rare, and Willy 's fair. And Willy 's wondrous bonny; And Willy heght to marry me, Gin e'er he married ony. " Yestreen I made my bed fu' braid. This night I '11 make it narrow ; For a' the livelang winter night I ly twined of my marrow. VERSES. " Oh came you by yon water-side ? Pou'd you the rose or hly ? Or came you by yon meadow green ? Or saw you my sweet Willy ? " She sought him east, she sought him west, She sought him braid and narrow ; Syne in the cleaving of a craig, She found him drowned in Yarrow. Anonymous. WRITTEN IN THE TOWER, THE NIGHT BEFORE HIS EXECUTION Mt prime of youth is but a frost of cares. My feast of joy is but a dish of pain, My crop of corn is but a field of tares. And all my goodes is but vain hope of gain. The day is fled, and yet I saw no sun; And now I live, and now my life is done I My spring is past, and yet it hath not sprung. The fruit is dead, and yet the leaves are green. My youth is past, and yet I am but young, I saw the world, and yet I was not seen. My thread is cut, and yet it is not spun ; And now I live, and now my life is done ! I sought for death and found it in the wombe, I lookt for Ufe, and yet it was a shade, I trade the ground, and knew it was my tombe, And now I die, and now I am but made. The glass is full, and yet my glass is run ; And now I live, and now my life is done I ChEDIOCK TlCIIEBORNE 1* 10 SINGLE FAMOUS POEMS. Ci)c i3allati of ^gincouct. Fair stood the wind for France When we our sails advance, Nor now to prove our cliance Longer will tarry ; But putting to the main, At Kaux, the mouth of Seine, With all his martial train. Landed King Harry. And taking many a fort, Furnished in warlike sort. Marched toward Agincourt In happy hour — Skirmishing day by day With those that stopped his way Where the French general lay With all his power. Which in his height of pride, King Henry to deride. His ransom to provide To the king sending ; Which he neglects the while, As from a nation vile. Yet, with an angry smile, Their fall portending. And turning to his men. Quoth our brave Henry then Though they be one to ten, Be not amazed ; Yet have we well begun — Battles so bravely won Have ever to the sun By fame been raised. THE BALLAD OF AOINCOURT. J I And for myself, quoth he, This my full rest shall be ; England ne'er mourn for me, Nor more esteem me. Victor I will remain, Or on this earth lie slain : Never shall she sustain Loss to redeem me. Poitiers and Cressy tell, When most their pride did swell, Under our swords they fell ; No less our skill is Than when our grandsire great, Claiming the regal seat, By many a warlike feat Lopped the French lilies. The Duke of York so dread The eager vaward led ; With the main Henry sped, Amongst his henchmen. Excester had the rear — A braver man not there : Lord! how hot they were On the false Frenchmen ! They now to fight are gone ; Armor on armor shone ; Drum now to drum did groan- To hear was wonder ; That with the cries they make The very earth did shake; Trumpet to trumpet spake, Thunder to thunder. Well it thine age became, O noble Erpingham 1 1 2 SINGLE FAMO US POEMS. Which did the signal aim To our hid forces ; When, from a meadow by, Like a storm suddenly, The, English archery Struck the French horses, With Spanish yew so strong. Arrows a cloth-yard long, That like to serpents stung, Piercing the wether; None from his fellow starts, But playing manly parts. And like true English hearts, Stuck close together. When down their bows they threw And foi-th their bilbows drew. And on the French they flew, Not one was tardy : Arms were from shoulders sent; Scalps to the teeth were rent; Down the French peasants went; Our men were hardy. This while our noble king. His broadsword brandishing, Down the French host did ding, As to o'erwhelm it; And many a deep wound lent, His arms with blood besprent, And many a cruel dent Bruised his helmet Glo'ster, that duke so good, Next of the royal blood, For famous England stood, With his brave brother — TAKE THY OLD CLOAKE ABOUT THEK 13 Clarence, in steel so bright, Though but a maiden knight, Yet in that furious fight Scarce such another. Warwick in blood did wade ; Oxford the foe invade. And cruel slaughter made. Still as they ran up. Sufiblk his axe did ply, Beaumont and Willoughby Bare them right doughtily, Ferrers and Fanhope. Upon St. Crispin's day Fought was this noble fray, Which fame did not delay To England to carry; Oh, when shall Englishmen With such acts fill a pen, C)r England breed again Such a King Harry ? Michael Drattoi*. STake tt)j) <©lti OTloakc about tijee. This winter weather, it waxeth cold. And frost doth freese on every hill ; And Boreas blows his Wastes so cold That all our cattell are like to spilL Bell, my wife, who loves no strife, Shee sayd unto me quietlye, ' Rise up, and save cowe Crumbocke's life — Man, put thy old cloake about thee." '0 Bell, why dost thou flyte and scorne? Thou kenst my cloake is very thin • 2 14 SINGLE FAMOUS POEMS. It is so bare and overworne A cricke he thereon can not renn. Then He no longer borrowe or lend — For once He new apparelled be ; To-morrow He to town, and spend, For He have a new cloake about me. " Cow Crumbocke is a very good cow — She has been alwayes true to the payle ; She has helped us to butter and cheese, I trow, And other things she will not f ayle ; I wold be loth to see her pine ; — Good husbande, counsel take of me — It is not for us to go so fine ; Man, take thy old cloake about thee." " My cloake, it was a very good cloake — It hath been alwayes true to the weare ; But now it is not worth a groat, I have had it four-and-forty year. Sometime it was of cloth in graine • 'T is now but a sigh clout as you may see, It will neither hold nor winde nor raine — A.nd He have a new cloake about me." " It is four-and-forty yeares ago Since the one of us the other did ken ; And we have had belwixt us towe Of children either nine or ten. We have brought them up to women and men- In the fere of God I trowe they be ; And why wilt thou thyself misken — Man, take thy old cloake about thee." "0 Bell, my wife, why dost thou floute? Now is now, and then was then ; A CONTENTED MIND. 15 Seeke now all the world tluongliout, Thou kenst not clownes from gentlemen ; They are clad in blacke, greene, yellowe, or gray, So far above their own degree — Once in my life He do as they, For He have a new cloake about me." " King Stephen was a worthy poore — His breeches cost him but a crowne ; He held them sixpence all too deere, Therefore he called the tailor lowne.'' "■ He was a wight of high renowne, And thou'se but of a low degree — It 's pride that puts this countrye downe; Man, take thy old cloake about thee." Bell, my wife, she loves not strife, Yet she will lead me if she can ; And oft to live a quiet life I 'm forced to yield though I be good-man. It 's not for a man with a woman to threepe, Unless he first give o'er the plea ; As we began sae will we leave, And He take my old cloake about me. Anonymous a orontentrt IHmti. I WEIGH not fortune's frown or smile ; I joy not much in earthly joys; I seek not state, I seek not style ; I am not fond of fancy's toys. I rest so pleased with what I have, I wish no more, no more I crave. I quake not at the thunder's crack ; I tremble not at noise of war; 1 6 SINGLE FAMOUS P OEMS. I swound not at the news of wrack, I shrink not at a blazing star; I fear not loss, I hope not gam ; I envy none, I none disdain. I see ambition never pleased : I see some Tantals starved in store; I see gold's dropsy seldom eased ; I see even Midas gape for more ; I neither want, nor yet abound — Enough 's a feast, content is crowned. I feign not friendship where I hate ; I fawn not on the great (in show) ; I prize, I praise a mean estate, Neither too lofty nor too low : This, this is all my choice, my cheer — A mind content, a conscience clear. Joshua Syl\ kster iLobe me ILittle, iLobe me ILonfl. Love me little, love me long! Is the burden of my song: Love that is too hot and strong Burnetii soon to waste. Still I would not have thee cold — Not too backward, nor too bold ; Love that lasteth till 't is old Fadeth not in haste. Love me little, love me longl Is the burden of my song. If thou lovest me too much, 'T will not prove as true a touch; Love me little more than such, — For I fear the end. LOVE ME LITTLE, LOVE ME LONG. 1 I 'm with little well coutont, And a little from thee sent Is enough, with true intent To be steadfast, friend. Say thou lovest me, while thou live I to thee my love will give, Never dreaming to deceive While that life endures ; Nay, and after death, in sooth, I to thee will keep my truth. As now when in my May of youth: This my love assures. Constant love is moderate ever, And it will through life persever ; -^ Give me that with true endeavor, — I will it restore. A suit of durance let it be. For all weathers, —that for nie, — For the land or for the sea: Lasting evermore. Winter's cold or suiiuiier's heat, Autumn's tempests on it beat; It can never know defeat, Never can rebel ; Such the love that 1 would gain, Such the love, I tell thee plain, Thou must irive. or woo in vain: So to tliee — farewell 1 AjIONYMOn& ,18 SINGLE FAMOUS POEMS. I CAN not eat but little meat — M^ stomach is not good ; But sure, I think that I can drink With him that wears a hood. Though I go bare, take ye no care , I am nothing a-cold — I stuff my skin so full within Of jolly good ale and old. Back and side go hare, go hare ; Both foot and hand go cold ; But, helly, Qod send thee good ale enoughy Whether it he new or old I I love no roast but a nut-brown toast, And a crab laid in the fire ; A little bread shall do me stead — Much bread I not desire. No frost or snow, nor wind, I trow, Can hurt me if I wold — I am so wrapt, and thorowly lapt Of jolly good ale and old. Back and side go bare, go hare ; Both foot and hand go cold ; But, belly, God send thee good ale enough, Whether it be neiu or old ! And Tyb, my wife, that as her life Loveth well good ale to seek, Full oft drinks she, till you may see ' The tears run down her cheek ; Then doth she trowl to me the bowl, Even as a malt-worm should ; And saith, "Sweetheart, I took my part Of this jolly good ale and old." EXEQUT. Ifl Back and side go b(ire, go bare ; Both foot and hand go cold ; But, belly, God send thee good ale enough, Whether it be new or old I Now let them drink till they nod and wink, Even as good fellows should do; They shall not miss to have the bUss G-ood ale doth bring men to ; And all poor souls that have scoured bowls, Or have them lustily trowled, God save the lives of them and their wives, Whether they be young or old ! Back and side go hare, go bare ; Both foot and hand go cold ; But, belly, God send thee good ale enough, Whether it be new or old I John Still. Accept, tliou slirine of my dead saint, Instead of dirges, this complaint ; And for b>veet flowers to crown tliy hearse Receive a strew of weeping verse From thy grieved friend, whom thou might'st see Quite melted into tears for thee. Dear loss! since thy untimely fate, My task hatli been to meditate On thee, on thee; tliou art the book, The library whereon I look, Though almost blind ; for thee (loved clay) I languish out, not live, the day. Using no other exercise But what I practice with mine eyes, 20 SINGLE FAMOUS POEMS. By which weL glasses I find out How lazily Time creeps about To one that mourns ; this, only this, My exercise and business is : So I compute the weary hours With sighs dissolved into showers. Nor wonder if my time go thus Backward and most preposterous ; Thou hast benighted me ; thy set This eve of blackness did beget, Who wast my day (though overcast Before thou hadst thy noontide passed), And I remember must in tears Thou scarce hadst seen so many years As day tells hours : by thy clear sun My love and fortune first did run: But thou wilt never more appear Folded within my hemisphere, Since both thy light and motion Like a fled star is fallen and gone, And 'twixt me and my soul's dear wish The earth now interposed is, Which such a strange eclipse doth mak* As ne'er was read in almanac. I could allow thee for a time To darken me and my sad clime : Were it a month, or yeai-, oi- ten, I would thy exile live till then. And all that space my mirth adjourn, So thou wouldst promise to return. And, putting off' thy ashy shroud, At length disperse this sable cloud 1 But woe is me I the longest date Too narrow is to calculate EXEQUY. These empty hopes : never shall I Be so much blessed as to descry A glimpse of thee, till that day come Which shall the earth to cinders doom, And a fierce fever must calcine The body of this world like thine, (My little world !) that fit of fire Once off, our bodies shall ai^pire To our souls' bliss : then we shall rise, And view ourselves with clearer eyes In that calm region where no night Can hide us from each other's sight. Meantime thou hast her, Earth : much good May my harm do thee! Since it stood With Heaven's will I might not call Her longer mine, I give thee all My short-lived right and interest In her whom living I loved best; With a most free and bounteous grief I give thee what I could not keep. Be kind to her, and, prithee, look Thou write into thy doomsday book Each parcel of this Rarity Which in thy casket shrined doth he. See that thou make thy reckoning straight. And yield her back again by weight : For thou must audit on thy trust Each grain and atom of this trust. As thou wilt answer Him that lent, Not gave thee, my dear monument. So, close the ground, and 'bout her shade Black curtains draw : my bride is laid. Sleep on, my love, in thy cold bed Never to be disquieted! 2* 22 SINGLE FAMOUS POEMS. My last good-night! Thou wilt not wake Till I thy fate shall overtake : Till age or grief or sickness must Marry ray body to that dust It so much loves, and fill the room My heart keeps empty in thy tomb. Stay for me there : I will not fail To meet thee in that hollow vale. And think not much of my delay ; I am already on the way, And follow thee with all the speed Desiie can make, or sorrows breed. Each minute is a short degree. And every hour a step toward thee. At lugnt, when I betake to rest, Next morn 1 rise nearer my west Of life, almost by eight hours' sail, Than when Sleep breathed his drowsy gaie. Thus from the sun my bottom steers, And. my day's compass downward bears ; Nor labor I to stem the tide Through which to thee I swiftly glide. 'T is true, with shame and grief I yield ; Thou, like the van, first took'st the field, And gotten hast the victory, In thus adventuring to die Before me, whose more years might crave A just precedence in the grave. But hark I my pulse, like a soft drum, Beats my approach, tells thee I come ; And slow howe'er my marches be, I shall at last sit down by thee. The thought of this bids me go on, And wait my dissolution With hope and comfort. Dear (forgive The crime) I am content to live, THE ANGLER'S WISH. 23 Divided, with but half a heart, Till we shall meet and never part. Henry Kino. Ct)e angler's W&iwf\. I IN these flowery meads would be. These crystal streams should solace me ; To whose harmonious bubbling noise T, with my angle, would rejoice, Sit here, and see the turtle-dove Court his chaste mate to acts of love ; Or, on that bank, feel the west wind Breathe health and plenty ; please my mind. To see sweet dew-drops kiss these flowers, And then washed off by April showers; Here, hear my kenna sing a song : There, see a blackbird feed her young, Or a laverock build her nest; Here, give my weary spirits rest. And raise my low-pitched thoughts above Earth, or what poor mortals love. Thus, free from lawsuits, and the noise Of princes' courts, I w^ould rejoice ; Or, with my Bryan and a book, Loiter long days near Shawford brook ; There sit by him, and eat my meat ; There see the sun both rise and set ; There bid good-morning to next day ; There meditate my time away; And angle on ; and beg to have A quiet passage to a welcome grave. IzAAK Walton. 24 SINGLE FAMOUS POEMS. Beattj's ,iFinaI aToncjuegt. The glories of our birth and state Are shadows, not substantial things; There is no armor against fate — Death lays his icy hands on kings; Sceptre and crown Must tumble down And in the dust be equal made With the poor crooked scythe and spade. Some men with swords may reap the field, And plant fresh laurels where they kill ; But their strong nerves at last must yield — They tame but one another still ; Early or late They stoop to fate, And must give up their murmuring breath. When they, pale captives, creep to death. The garlands wither on your brow — Then boast no more your mighty deeds ; Upon death's purple altar, now. See where the victor victim bleeds I All heads must come To the cold tomb — Only the actions of the just Smell sweet, and blossom in the dust. James Shirley from a ballad upon a wedding. The maid, and thereby hangs a tale, For such a maid no Whitsun-ale Could ever yet produce : THE BRIDE 26 No grape that 's kindly ripe could be So round, so plump, so soft as siie, Nor half so full of juice. Her finger was so small, the ring Would not stay on which they did bring — It was too wide a peck ; And, to say truth — for out it must — It looked like the great collar — ^^just — About our young colt's neck. Her feet beneath her petticoat, Like little mice, stole in and out, As if they feared the light ; But 0, she dances such a way ! No sun upon an Easter-day Is half so fine a sight. Her cheeks so rare a white was on, No daisy makes comparison ; Who sees them is undone ; For streaks of red were mingled there, Such as are on a Cath'rine pear, The side that 's next the sun. Her lips were red ; and one was thin, Compared to that was next her chin. Some bee had stung it newly ; But, Dick, her eyes so guard her face, I durst no more upon them gaze. Than on the sun in July. Her mouth so small, when she does speak, Thou 'dst swear her teeth her words did break, That they might passage get ; But slie so handled still the matter, They came as good as ours, or better, And are not spent a whit. Sir John Suckling. 2G SINGLE FAMOUS POEMS. Wit Gentlemen of ypnglanti. Ye gentlemen of England That live at home at ease, Ali ! little do you think upon The dangers of the seas. Give ear unto the mariners, And they will plainly show All the cares and the fears When the stormy winds do blow. If enemies oppose us When England is at war With any foreign nation, We fear not wound or scar ; Our roaring guns shall teach 'em Our valor for to know, Whilst they reel on the keel. And the stormy winds do blow. Then courage, all brave mariners, And never be dismay'd ; While we have bold adventurers. We ne'er shall want a trade : Our merchants will employ us To fetch them wealth, we know ; Then be bold — work for gold. When the stormy winds do blow. Martyn Parker .Song. Love still has something of the sea, From whence his mother rose ; No time his slaves from doubt can free, Nor give their thoughts repose. MY DEAR AND ONLY LOVE. 'll They are becalmed in clearest days, And in rough weather tossed; They wither under cold delays, Or are in tempests lost. One wliile they seem to touch the port, Then straight into the main Some angry wind, in cruel sport. The vessel drives again. At first disdain and pride they fear, Which if they chance to 'scape, Rivals and falsehood soon appear. In a more cruel shape. By such degrees to joy they come. And are so long withstood; So slowly they receive the sun, It hardly does them good. 'T is5 cruel to prolong a pain ; And to defer a joy, Believe me, gentle Celemene, Offends the winged boy. An hundred thousand oaths your fears, Perhaps, would not remove ; And if I gazed a thousand years, I could not deeper love. Sir Charles Sedley iHg Bear anti ©nig Hobe. PART FIRST. My dear and only love, I pray, This noble world of thee Be governed by no other sway But purest monarchic. 28 SINGLE FAMOUS POEMS. For if confusion have a part, Which virtuous souls abhore, And hold a synod in thy heart, I '11 never love thee more. Like Alexander I will reign. And I w^ill reign alone, My thoughts shall evermore disdain A rival on my throne. Fie either fears his fate too much, Or his deserts are small. That puts it not unto the touch, To win or lose it all. But I must rule and govern still And always give the law. And have each subject at my will, And all to stand in awe. But 'gainst my battery if I find Thou shun'st the prize so sore As that thou set'st me up a blind, T '11 never love thee more. If in the empire of thy heart, Where I should solely be, Another do pretend a part, And dares to vie with me ; Or if committees thou erect. And go on such a score, I '11 sing and laugh at thy neglect, And never love thee more. But if thou wilt be constant then. And faithful of thy word, I '11 make thee glorious by my pen, And famous by my sword. I '11 serve thee in such noble Avays Was never heard before ; MY DEAR AND ONLY LOVE 29 I '11 crown and deck tliee all with bays, And love thee evermoi-e. PART SECOND. My dear and only love, take heed, Lest thou thyself expose. And let all longing lovers feed Upon such looks as those. A marble wall then build about, Beset without a door; But if thou let thy heart fly out, I '11 never love thee more. Let not their oaths, like volleys shot. Make any brciu^li at ah ; Nor smoothness of their language plot Which way to s(;ale the wall; Nor balls of wild-lire love consume The shrine which 1 adore; For if such smoke about thee fume, I '11 never love thee more. I think thy virtues be too strong To suffer by surprise ; Those victualed by my love so long, The siege at length must rise. And leave thee ruled in that health And state thou wast before ; But if thou turn a connnonwealth, I '11 never love thee more. Or if l»y fraud, or by consent, Thy liearl lo mine come, I '11 sound IK) trumpet as I wont. Nor marcii l)y tuck of drum; But hold luy arms, like ensigns, up. Thy I'iilsciiMod to di'plore. 30 SINGLE FAMOUS POEMS. And bitterly will sigh and weep, And never love thee more. I '11 do with thee as Nero did When Rome was set on fire, Not only all relief forbid, But to a hiU retire, And scorn to shed a tear to see Thy spirit grown so poor ; But smiUng sing, until I die, I '11 never love thee more. Yet, for the love I bare thee once, Lest that thy name should die, A monument of marble-stone The truth shall testifie ; That every pilgrim passing by May pity and deplore My case, and read the reason why I can love thee no more. The golden laws of love shall be Upon this pillar hung, — A simple heart, a single eye, A true and constant tongue ; Let no man for more love pretend Than he has hearts in store ; True love begun shall never end; Love one and love no more. Then shall thy heart be set by mine, But in far different case ; For mine was true, so was not thine, But lookt Uke Janus' face. For as the waves with every wind, So sail'st thou every shore. And leav'st my constant heart behind.- How can I love thee more ? MY DEAR A N^D YL T LO VE. 3 j My heart shall with the sum be fixed For eonstanoy most strange, And thine shall with the moon be mixed, Delighting ay in change. Thy beauty shined at first more bright, And woe is me therefore, Tliat ever I found thy love so light I could love thee no more ! The misty mountains, smoking lakes. The rocks' resounding echo, The whistling wind that murmur makes, Shall with me sing hey ho ! The tossing seas, the tumbling boats, Tears dropping from each shore, Shall tune with me their turtle notes — T '11 never love thee more. As doth the turtle, chaste and true, Hei- fellow's death regrete, And daily mourns for his adieu. And ne'er renews hci' mate; So, though thy faith was never fast, Which grieves me wondrous sore, Yet I shall live in love so chaste, That I shall love no more. And when all gallants ride about These monuments to view. Whereon is written, in and out. Thou traitorous and untrue ; Then in a passion they shall pause. And thus say, sighing sore, " Alr,s ! he had too just a cause Never to love thee more." And when that tracing goddess Fame From east to west shall flee. Jia SINGLE FAMOUS POEMS. She sliall record it, to thy shame, How thou hast loved me; And how in odds our love was such As few have been before ; Thou loved too many, and I too much, Bo I can love no more. Jamks Graham, Marquis of Montrosk ^tf Splcntittj stilling. " Sing, heavenly Musel Things unattempted yet, in prose or rhyme," A shilling, breeches, and <'hinieras dire. Happy the man, who, void of cares and strife, In silken or in leather purse retains A Splendid Shilling: he nor hears with pain New oysters cried, nor sighs for cheerful ale ; But with his friends, when nightly mists ari.se, To Juniper's Magpie, or Town-hall repairs: Where, mindful of the nymph, whose wanton eye Transfix'd his soul, and kindled amoi'ous Mames, Chloe, or Phillis, he each circling glass Wisheth her health, and joy, and equal love. Meanwhile, he smokes, and laughs at merry tale, Or pun ambiguous, or conundrum quaint. But I, whom griping penury surrounds, And Hunger, sure attendant upon Want, With scanty oifals, and small acid tiff, (Wretched repast!) my meagre corpse sustain Then solitary walk, or doze at home In garret vile, and with a warming puff Regale chill'd fingers : or from tube as black As winter-chimney, or well-polish'd jet, Exhale mundungus, ill-perfuming scent : Not blacker tube, nor of a shorter size. Smokes Cambro-Briton (vers'd in pedigree. THE SPLENDID SHILLING 33 Spnmg from Cadwallador and Arthur, kings Full famous in romantic tale) when he, O'er many a craggy hill and barren cliff. Upon a cargo of fam'd Cestrian cheese, High over-shadowing rides, with a design To vend his wares, or at th' Avonian mart. Or Maridunum, or the ancient town Yclep'd Brechinia, or where Vaga's stream Encircles Ariconium, fruitful soil! Whence flow nectareous wines, that well may vie With Massic, Setin, or renown'd Falern. Thus while my joyless minutes tedious flow, With looks demure, and silent pace, a Dun, Horrible monster 1 hated by gods and men. To my aerial citadel ascends. With vocal heel thrice thundering at my gate, With hideous accent thrice he calls; I know The voice ill-boding, and the solemn sound. What should I do ? or whither turn ? Amaz'd, Confounded, to the dark recess I fly Of wood-hole ; straight my bristling hairs erect Through sudden fear ; a chilly sweat bedews My shuddering limbs, and (wonderful to tell !) My tongue forgets her faculty of speech ; So horrible he seems 1 His faded brow, Intrench'd with many a frown, and conic beard, And spreading band, admir'd by modern saints. Disastrous acts forbode ; in his right hand Long scrolls of paper solemnly he waves, With characters and figures dire inscrib'd. Grievous to mortal eyes; (ye gods, avert Such plagues from righteous men !) Behind him stalia Anotner monster, not unlike himself, Sullen of aspect, by the vulgar call'd A catchpole, whose polluted hands the gods, With force incredible, and magic charms, First have endued : if he his ample palm 3* 34 SINGLE FAMOUS F0EM8. Should haply on ill-fated shoulder lay Of debtor, straight his body, to the touch Obsequious (as whilom knights were wont,) To some enchanted castle is convey'd, Where gates impregnable, and coercive chains, In durance strict detain him, till, in form Of money, Pallas sets the captive free. Beware, ye debtors! when ye walk, bewam , Be circumspect ; oft with insidious ken The caitiff eyes your steps aloof, and oft Lies perdu in a nook or gloomy cave, Prompt to enchant some inadvertent wretch With his unhallowed touch. So, (poets sing) Grimalkin, to domestic vermin sworn An everlasting foe, with watcMul eye Lies nightly brooding o'er a chinky gap, Portending her fell claws, to thoughtless mice Sure ruin. So her disembowell'd web Arachne, in a hall or kitchen, spreads Obvious to vagrant flies : she secret stands Within her woven cell : the humming prey, Regardless of their fate, rush on the toils Inextricable, nor will aught avail Their arts, or arms, or shapes of lovely hue ; The wasp insidious, and the buzzing drone, And butterfly, proud of expanded wings Distinct with gold, entangled in her snares, Useless resistance make ; with eager strides, She towering flies to her expected spoils; Then, with envenomed jaws, the vital blood Drinks of reluctant foes, and to her cave Their bulky carcasses triumphant drags. So pass my days. But when nocturnal shades This world envelop, and th' inclement air Persuades men to repel benumbing frosts With pleasant wines, and crackling blaze of wood j Me, lonely sitting, nor the glimmering light THE SPLENDID SHILLING. 3i Of make-weight candle, nor the joyous talk Of loving friend, delights: distress'd, forlorn, Amidst the horrors of the tedious night, Darkling I sigh, and feed with dismal thoughts My anxious mind : or sometimes mournful verse Indite, and sing of groves and myrtle shades, Or desperate lady near a purling stream, Or lover pendent on a willow tree. Meanwhile I labor with eternal drought, And restless wish, and rave ; my parched throat Finds no relief, nor heavy eyes repose: But if a shnnl)er haply does invade My weary limbs, my fancy 's still awake, Thoughtful of di-ink, and eager, in a dreana, Tipples imaginary pots of ale. In vain ; awake I find the settled thirst Still gnawing, and the [deasant phantom curse. Thus do I live, from pleasure quite debarred, Nor taste the fruits tiiat the sun's genial rays Mature, john-apple, nor the downy peach. Nor walnut in rough-furrow'd coat secure, Nor medlar, fruit delicious in decay ; Afflictions great! yet greater still remain: My galligaskins, that have long withstood The winter's fury, and encroaching frosts. By time subdued (what will not time subdual) An horrid chasm disclos'd with orifice Wide, discontinuous; at which the winds Eurus and Auster, and the dreadful force Of Boreas, that congeals the Cronian waves, Tumultuous enter with dire chilling blasts. Portending agues. Thus a well-fraught ship, Long sail'd secure, or thi-ough th' .^gean deep, Or the Ionian, till cruising- near The Lilybean shore, with hideous crush On Seylla, or Charybdis (dangerous rocks I) She strikes rebounding; whence the shatter'd oak, 36' SINGLE FAMOUS POEMS. So fierce a shock unable to withstand, Admits the sea: in at the gaping side The crowding waves gush with impetuous rage Resistless, overwhelming ; horrors seize The mariners; Death in their eyes appears. They stare, they lave, they pump, they swear, they praj (Vain efforts I) still the battering waves rush in, Implacable, till, delug'd by the foam. The ship sinks foundering in the vast abyss. John Philips. His upon Hielands, And low upon Tay, Bonnie George Campbell Rade out on a day. Saddled and bridled And gallant rade he ; Hame cam his gude horse, But never cam he I Out cam his auld mither, Greeting fu' sair ; And out cam his bonnie bride, Rivin' her hair. Saddled and bridled And booted rade he ; Toom hame cam the saddle, But never cam he ! "My meadow lies green, And my corn is unshorn ; My barn is to big. And my baby's unboro, ' THE HERMIT. 37 Saddled and bridled And booted rade he; Toora hame cam the saddle-, But never cam he I Anonymodb. Cf)e ?^erm(t. - Far in a wild, unknown to public view, From youth to age a reverend hermit grew ; The moss his bed, the cave his humble cell, His i'otxl the fruits, his drink the crystal well: Remote from men, with God he pass'd the days, Pi-ayer all his business, all his pleasure praise. A life so sacred, such serene rej)ose, Seem'd Heaven itself, till one suggestion rose; That Vice should triumph. Virtue, Vice obey. This sprung some doubt of Providence's sway : His hopes no more a certain prospect boast, And all the tenor of his soul is lost: So when a smooth expanse receives imprest Calm Nature's image on its watery breast, Down bend the banks, the trees depending grow, And skies beneath with answering colors glow: But if a stone the gentle sea divide, Swift ruffling circles curl on every side, And glimmering fragments of a broken Sun, Banks, trees, and skies, in thick disorder run. To clear this doubt, to know the world by sight, To find if books, or swains, report it right, (For yet by swains alone the world he knew, Whose feet came wandering o'er the nightly dew) He quits his cell ; the pilgrim-staff he bore, And fix'd the scallop in his hat before ; Then with the Sun a rising journey went. Sedate to think, and watching each event. The morn was wasted in the pathless grass, 4 38 SINGLE FAMOUa POEMS. And long and lonesome was the wild to pass; But when the southern Sun had warm'd the day, A youth came posting o'er a crossing way ; His raiment decent, his complexion fair, And soft m graceful ringlets wav'd his hair. Then near approaching, " Father, hail ! " he cried, "And hail, my son," the reverend sire replied; Words follow'd words, from question answer flow'd. And talk of various kind deceiv'd the road ; Till each with other pleas'd, and loath to part, While in their age they diflfer, join in heart. Thus stands an aged elm in ivy bound, Thus youthful ivy clasps an elm around. Now sunk the Sun : the closing hour of day Came onward, mantled o'er with sober gray ; Nature in silence bid the world repose ; When near the road a stately palace rose : There by the Moon through ranks of trees they pa^s Whose verdure crown'd their sloping sides of grass. It chanced the noble master of the dome Still made his house the wandering stranger's home : Yet still the kindness, from a thirst of praise, Prov'd the vain flourish of expensive ease. The pair arrive: the hv'ried servants wait; Their lord receives them at the pompous gate. The table groans with costly piles of food, And all is more than hospitably good. Then led to rest, the day's long toil they drown. Deep sunk in sleep, and silk, and heaps of down. At length 't is morn, and at the dawn of day, Along the wide canals the zephyrs play : Fresh o'er the gay parterres the breezes creep, And shake the neighboring wood to banish sleep. Up rise the guests, obedient to the call : An early banquet deck'd the splendid hall; Rich luscious wine a golden goblet grac'd. Which the kind master forc'd the guests to taste. THE HERMIT. 39 Till n, pleas'd and thankful, from, the porch they go; And, Imt the landlord, none had cause of woe : His cup was vanish'd ; for in secret guise The younger guest purloin'd the glittering prize. As one who spies a serpent in his way. Glistening and basking in the summer ray, Disorder'd stops to shun the danger near, Tlien walks with faintness on, and looks with fear. So seem'd the sire ; when far upon the road, The shining spoil his wily partner show'd. He stop'd with silence, walk'd with trembling heart, And much he wish'd, but durst not ask to part: Murmuring he lifts his eyes, and thinks it hard. That generous actions meet a base reward. While thus they pass, the Sun his glory shrouds, The changing skies hang out their sable clouds ; A sound in air presag'd approaching rain. And beasts to covert scud across the plain. Warn'd by the signs, the wandering pair retreat, To seek 'or shelter at a neighboring seat. 'T was built with turrets on a rising ground, And strong, and large, and uniraprov'd around; Its owner's temper, timorous and severe, Unknd and griping, caus'd a desert there. A i ea the miser's heavy doors they drew, Fierce risLig gusts with sudden fury blew; The nimble hghtning mix'd with showers began, And o'er their heads -loud rolling thunders ran. Here long they knock, but knock or call in vain, Driven by the wind, and batter' d by the rain. At length some pity warm'd the master's breast, CI was then his threshold first received a guest) ; Slow creaking turns the door with jealous care, And half he welcomes in the shivering pair ; One frugal fagot hghts the naked walls, And Nature's fervor through their limbs recalls : Bread of the coarsest sort, with eager wine. 4 SINGLE FAMO US P OEMS. (Each hardly granted) serv'd them both to dine, And when the tempest first appeared to cease, A ready warning bid them part in peace. With still remark the pondering hermit view'd, In one so rich, a life so poor and rude ; " And whj' should such," within himself he cried, " Lock the lost wealth a thousand want beside ? " But what new marks of wonder soon t^ke place, In every settling feature of his face ; When from his vest the young companion bore That cup, tlie geue-rous landlord own'd before. And paid profusely with the precious bowl The stinted kindness of this churlish soul. But now the clouds in airy tumult fly I The Sun emerging opes an azure sky;- A fresher green the smelling leaves display, And, glittering as they tremble, cheer the day: The weather courts them from the poor retreat. And the glad master bolts the wary gate. While hence they walk, the pilgrim's bosom wrcught With all the travail of uncertain thought; His partner's acts without their cause appear, 'T was there a vice, and seem'd a madness here: Detesting that, and pitying this, he goes. Lost and confounded with the various shows. Now Night's dim shades again involve the sky. Again the wanderers want a place to lie, Again they search, and find a lodging nigh. The soil improv'd around, the mansion neat. And neither poorly low, nor idly great: It seem'd to speak its master's turn of mind, Content, and not to praise, but virtue kind. Hither the walkers turn with weary feet, Then bless the mansion, and the master greet : Their greeting fair, bestow'd with modest guise, The courttous master hears, and thus replies : " Without a vain, without a grudging heart. THE HERMIT. 41 To him wlio gives us all, I yield a part; From him j'ou come, for him accept it here, A frank and sober, more than costly cheer." lie spoke, and bid the welcome table spread, Then talk of virtue till the time of bed. When the grave household round his hall repair, Warn'd by a bell, and close the hours with prayer. At length the world, renew'd by calm repose, Was strong for toil, the dappled Morn arose; Before the pilgrims part, the younger crept Near the clos'd cradle where an infant slept. And writh'd his neck : the landlord's little pride, strange return! grew black, and gasp'd, and died. Horror of horrors 1 what I his only son ! How look'd our hermit when the fact was done; Not Hell, though Hell's black jaws in sunder part, And breathe blue fire, could more assault his heart. Confus'd, and struck with silence at the deed, He flies, but trembling, fails to fly with speed. His steps the youth pursues; the country lay Perplex'd with roads, a servant sliow'd the way : A river cross'd the path ; the passage o'er Was nice to find ; the servant trod before ; Long arms of oaks an open bridge supplied, And deep the waves beneath them bending glide. The youth, who seein'd to watch a time to sin, Approach'd the careless guide, and thrust him in: Plunging he falls, and rising lifts his head. Then flashing turns, and sinks among the dead. Wild, sparkling rage inflames the father's eyes, He bursts the bands of fear, and madly cries, " Detested wretch ! " — But scarce his speech began, When the strange partner seem'd no longer man : His youthful face grew more serenely sweet; His robe turn'd white, and flow'd upon his feet; Fair rounds of radiant points invest his hair; Celestial odors breathe through purpled air ; 42 SINGLE FAMOUS POEMS. And wings, whose colors glitter'd on the day, Wide at his back their gradual plumes display. The form ethereal burst upon his sight, And moved in all the niajesty of light. Though loud at first the pilgrim's passion grew, Sudden he gaz'd, and wist not what to do; Surprise in secret chains his words suspends, And in a calm his settling temper ends. •■ But silence here the beauteous angel broke (The voice of music ravish'd as he spoke). "Thy prayer, thy praise, thy life to vice unkiiowii In sweet memorial rise before the throne : These charms success in our bright region (ind And force an angel down, to calm thy mind ; For this, commissioned, I forsook the sky. Nay, cease to kneel — thy fellow-servant I. " Then know the truth of government divine. And let these scruples be no longer thine. "The Maker justly claims that world he made, In this the right of Providence is laid ; Its sacred majesty through all depends On using second means to work his ends : 'T is thus, withdrawn in state from human eye, The power exerts his attributes on high. Your actions uses, nor controls your will. And bids the doubting sons of men be still. "What strange events can strike with more surprise Than those which lately struck thy wondering eyes ? Yet, taught by these, confess th' Almighty just, And where you can't unriddle, learn to trust! " The great, vain man, who far'd on costly food. Whose Uf e was too luxurious to be good ; Who made his ivory stands with goblets shine, And forc'd his guests to morning draughts of wine, Has, with the cup, the graceless custom lost. And still he welcomes, but with less of cost. " The mean, suspicious wretch, whose bolted door THE HERMIT. 43 Ne'er mov'd in duty to the wandering poor; With him I left the cup, to teach his mind That Heaven can bless, if mortals will be kind. Conscious of wanting worth, he views the bowl, And feels compassion touch his grateful soul. Thus artists melt the sullen ore of lead, With heaping coals of fire upon his head ; In the kind warmth the metal learns to glow, And loose from dross the silver runs below. " Long had our pious friend in virtue trod. But now the child half-weaned his heart from God (Child of his age) for him he liv'd in pain, And measured back his steps to Earth again. To what excesses had his dotage run ? But God, to save the father, took the son. To all but thee, in fits he seem'd to go, (And 't was my ministry to deal the blow,) The poor fond parent, humbled in the dust, Now owns in tears the punishment was just. " But now had all his fortune felt a wrack. Had that false servant sped in safety back ; This night his treasur'd heaps he meant to steal, And what a fund of charity would fail I Thus Heaven instructs thy mind : this trial o'er, Depart in peace, resign, and sin no more." On sounding pinions here the youth withdrew, The sage stood wondering as the seraph flew. Thus look'd Elisha when, to mount on high, His master took the chariot of the sky ; The fiery pomp ascending left to view ; The prophet gazed, and wish'd to follow too. The bending hermit here a prayer begun, ' Lord I as in Heaven, on Earth thy will he done." Then gladly turning sought his ancient place. And passed a lite of piety and peace. Thomas Parnelu 44 SINGLE FAMOUS POEMS. On t^t prospect Of planting gltt0 anti ILeacm'tifl in America. The Muse, disgusted at an age and clime Uarijen of every glorious theme, In distant lands now waits a better time, Producing subjects worthy fame ; In happy climes, where from the genial sun And virgin earth such scenes ensue, The force of art by nature seems outdone, And fancied beauties by the true ; In happy climes the seat of innocence. Where nature guides and virtue rules, Where men shall not impose, for truth and sense, The pedantry of courts and schools. There shall be sung another golden age, The rise of empire and of arts. The good and great uprising epic rage. The wisest heads and noblest hearts. Not such as Europe breeds in her decay ; Such as she bred when fresh and young, When heavenly flame did animate her clay, By future poets shall be sung. Westward the course of empire takes its way ; The first four acts already past, The fifth shall close the drama with the day ; Time's noblest offspring is the last. Gkorge Berkelet Sallg in our ^llep. Of all the girls that are so smart, There 's none like Pretty Sally j SALL Y IN UR A LLEY. 4 5 She is the darling of my heart. And Hves in our alley. There 's ne'er a lady in the land That 's half so sweet as Sally; She is the darling of my hearty And hves in our alley. Her father he makes cabbage-nets, And through the streets does cry them; Her mother she sells laces long To such as please to buy them : But sure such folk can have no part In such a girl as Sally ; She is the darling of my heart, And lives in our alley. When she is by, I leave my work, I love her so sincerely ; My master comes, like any Turk, And bangs me most severely : But let him bang, long as he will, I '11 bear it all for Sally ; 8he is the darling of my heart, And lives in our alley. Of all the days are in the week, I dearly love but one day. And that 's the day that comes betwixt A Saturday and Monday ; For then I 'm dressed, all in my best. To walk abroad with Sally; She is the darling of my heart, And lives in our alley. My master carries me to church, And often am I blamed, Because I leave him in the lurch, Soon as the text is named : 4* 46 SINGLE FAMO US F OEMS. I leave the church in sermon time, And slink away to Sally ; She is the darling of my heart, And lives in our alley. Wh^n Christmas comes about again, then I shall have money ; I '11 hoard it up and, box and all, T '11 give it to my honey ; Oh would it were ten thousand pounds, 1 'd give it all to Sally ; For she 's the darling of my heart, And lives in our alley. My master, and the neighbors all, Make game of me and Sally, And but for her I 'd better be A slave, and row a galley : But when my seven long years are out, then I '11 marry Sally, And then how happily we '11 live — But not in our alley. Henry Carey (Stongar ?^i'lL Silent nymph, with curious eye, Who the purple evening lie On the mountain's lonely van. Beyond the noise of busy man ; Painting fair the form of things, While the yellow linnet sings; Or the tuneful nightingale Charms the forest with her tale ;— Come, with all thy various dues. Come and aid thy sister Muse ; Now, while Phoebus riding high, Gives lustre to the land and sky I GRONQAR HILL. 4^< Grongar Hill invites my song, Draw the landscape bright and strong ; Grongar, in whose mossy cells Sweetly musing Quiet dwells; Grongar, in whose silent shade, For the modest Muses made. So oft I have, the evening still, At the fountain of a rill. Sate upon a flowery bed, With my hand beneath my head ; While stray'd my eyes o'er Towy's flood, Over mead and over wood. From house to house, from hill to hill, Till Contemplation had her fill. About his chequer'd sides I wind. And leave his brooks and meads behind, And groves and grottoes where I lay, And vistas shooting beams of day ; Wide and wider spreads the vale. As circles on a smooth canal ; The mountains round, unhappy fate I Sooner or later, of all height, Withdraw their summits from the skies, And lessen as the others rise : Still the prospect wider spreads. Adds a thousand woods and meads; Still it widens, widens still. And sinks the newly risen hill. Now, I gain the mountain's brow, What a landscape lies below I No clouds, no vapors intervene; But the gay, the open scene Does the face of Nature show. In all the hues of Heaven's bow I And, swelhng to embrace the light, Spreads around beneath the sight. Old castles on the clifis arise. 4 8 SINGLE FAMO US P OEMS. Proudly towering in the skies ! Rushing from the woods, the spires Seem from hence ascending fires! Half his beams Apollo sheds "Glji the yellow mountain-heads I Gilds the fleeces of the flocks, And glitters on the broken rocks I Below me trees unnumber'd' rise, Beautiful in various dyes : The gloomy pine, the poplar blue, The yellow beach, the sable yew, The slender fir that taper grows, The sturdy oak with broad-spread boughs And beyond the purple grove. Haunt of Phyllis, queen of lovel G-audy as the opening dawn, Lies a long and level lawn, On which a dark hill, steep and high, Holds and charms the wandering eye I Deep are his feet in Towy's flood, His sides are cloth'd with waving wood, And ancient towers crown his brow, That cast an awful look below ; Whose ragged walls the ivy creeps. And with her arms from falling keeps ; So both a safety from the wind In mutual dependence find. 'T is now the raven's bleak abode : 'T is now the apartment of the toad ; And there the fox securely feeds ; And there the poisonous adder breeds, Conceal'd in ruins, moss, and weeds; While, ever and anon, there falls Huge heaps of hoary moulder'd walls. Yet Time has seen, that lifts the low, And level lays the lofty brow. Has seen this broken pile complete, ORO^'GAR HILL. 49 Big with the vanity of state ; But transient is the smile of Fate I A httle rule, a little sway, A sunbeam in u winter's day, Is all the proud and mighty have Between the cradle and the grave. And see the rivei's how they run, Through woods and meads, in shade and sun, Sometimes swift, sometimes slow, Wave succeeding wave, they go A various journey to the deep, Like human life, to endless sleep I Thus is Nature's vesture wrought, To instruct our wandering thought ; Thus she dresses green and gay, To disperse our cares away. Ever charming, ever new, When will the landscape tire the view! The fountain's fall, the river's flow, The woody valleys, warm and low ; The windy sununit, wild and high. Roughly rushing on the sky I The pleasant seat, the ruin'd tower. The naked rock, the shady bower ; The town and village, dome and farm, Each gives each a double charm. As pearls upon an Ethiop's arm. See on the mountain's southern side Where the prospect opens wide, Where the evening gilds the tide ; How close and small the hedges lie I What streaks of meadows cross the eye I A step methinks may pass the stream, So little distant dangers seem ; So we mistake the Future's face, Ey'd through Hope's deluding glass; As yon summit soft and fair, 60 SINGLE FAMOUS POEMS. Clad in colors of the air, Which to those who journey near, Barren, brown, and rough appear. Still we tread the same coarse way, The present 's still a cloudy day. may I with myself agree, And never covet what I see ; Content me with an humble shade, My passions tam'd, my wishes laid ; For, while our wishes wildly roll, We banish quiet from the souk 'T is thus the busy beat the air. And misers gather wealth and care. Now, ev'n now, my joys run.high, As on the mountain-turf I lie ; While the wanton Zephyr sings. And in the vale perfumes his wings ; While the waters murmur deep ; While the shepherd charms his sheep; While the birds unbounded fly. And with music fill the sky. Now, ev'n now, luy joys run higli. Be full, ye courts ; be great who will, Search for I'eace with all your skill: Open wide the lofty door. Seek lier on the marble floor. In vain you search, she is not there; In vain you search the domes of Care I Grass and flowers Quiet treads. On the meads, and mountain-heads. Along with Pleasure, close allied. Ever by each other's side; And often, by the murmuring rill. Hears the thrush, while all is still, Within tiie groves of Grongar Hill. John Dyeb. A SOLILOQUY. 51 OCCASIONED BY THE CHIKPING OF A GRASSHOPPER. Happy insect I ever blest With a more than mortal rest, Rosy dews the leaves among, Humble joys, and gentle song I Wretched poet ! evei- curst With a life of lives the worst, Sad despondence, restless fears, Endless jealousies and tears. In the burning sunmier thou Warblest on the verdant bough, Meditating cheerful play, Mindless of the piercing ray ; Scorched in Cupid's fervors, I Kver weep and ever die. Proud to gratify thy will, Ready Nature waits thee still; Balmy wines to thee she {)Our.eiid me thy clarion, goddess! let me try 'I'o sound the praise of Merit, ere it dies, Such as I oft have chaunced to espy, Losi in the dreary shades of dull Obscurity. hi every village mark'd with little spire, l*]mbowcr'd in trees, and hardly known to Fame, There dwells in lowly shed, and mean attire, A matron old, whom we School-mistress name, \Vho boasts unruly brats with birch to tame ; They grieven sore, in piteous durance pent, Aw'd by the power of this relentless dame And oft-times, on vagaries idly bent. For unkempt hair, or task unconn'd, are sorely shent. And all in sight doth rise a birchen tree Which Learning near her little dome did stowe Whilom a twig of small regard to see. Though now so wide its waving branches flow And work the simple vassals mickle woe ; For not a wmd might curl the leaves that blew. But their limbs shudder'd, and their pulse beat low ; And as they look'd they found their horror grew, And shap'd it into rods, and tingled at the view. So have I seen (who has not, may conceive) A lifeless phantom near a garden plac'd ; THE ^VIIOOL-MISTRESS. 57 So dotli it wantcin birds of peace bereave, Of sport, of song, of pleasure, of repast; They start, tliey stare, they wheel, they look aghast; Sad servitude ! such comfortless annoy May no bold Bi-iton's riper age e'er taste 1 Ne superstition clog his dance of joy, No vision empty, vain, his native bliss destroy. Near to tiiis dome is found a patch so green, On wliifli the tribe their gambols do display, And at the door imprisoning-board is seen, Lest weakly wights of smaller size should stray ; Eager, penlie, to bask in sunny day ! The noises intermix'd, which thence resound, Do Learning's little tenement betray ; Whei-e sits the dame, disguis'd in look profound, And vycfi iier laiiy throng, and turns her wheel around. Her cap, far whiter than the driven snow. Emblem right meet of decency does yield : Her api'on dy'd in grain, as blue, I trow, As is tlie hare-ljell that adorns the field : And in her hand, for sceptre, she does wield Tway birchen sprays; with anxious fear entwin'd, With dark distrust, and sad repentance fill'd : And stedfast hate, and sharp affliction join'u. And fury uncontroll'd, and cluistisement unkind. Few but have kenn'd, in semblance meet portray'd, The childish faces of old Eol's train ; Libs, Notus, Auster: these in frowns array'd. How then would fare or Earth, or Sky, or Main, Were the stern god to give his slaves the rein ? And were not she rebellious breasts to quell. And were not she her statutes to maintain. The cot no more, I ween, were deem'd the cell, Where comely peace of mind, and decent order dwell. 6 58 SINGLE FAMOUS POEMS. A russet stole was o'er her shoulders thrown; A russet kirtle fenc'd the nipping air ; 'T was simple russet, but it was her own ; 'T was her own country bred the flock so fair I 'T was her own labor did the fleece prepare; And, sooth to say, her pupils, rang'd around, Through pious awe, did term it passing jare ; For they in gaping wonderment abound, And think, no doubt, she been the greatest wight on ground. Albeit ne flattery did corrupt her truth, Ne pompous title did debauch her ear; Goody, gooil-woman, gossip, n'aunt, forsooth. Or dame, the sole additions she did hear; Yet these she challeng'd, these she held right dear : Ne would esteem him act as mought behove, Who should not honor'd eld with these revere : For never title yet so mean could prove. But there was eke a mind which did that title love. One ancient hen she took delight to feed. The plodding pattern of the busy dame ; Which, ever and anon, impell'd by need, Into her school, begirt with chickens, camel Such favor did her past deportment claim : And, if Neglect had lavish'd on the ground Fragment of bread, she would collect the same, For well she knew, and quaintly could expound What sin it were to waste the smallest crumb she found. Herbs too she knew, and well of each could speak That in her garden sipp'd the silvery dew ; Where no vain flower disclos'd a gaudy streak; But herbs for use, and physic, not a few. Of gray renown, within those borders grew: The tufted basil, pun-provoking thyme. Fresh baum, and marigold of cheerful hue ; THE SCHOOL. MrSTEESS. 59 The lowly gill, that never dares to climb ; And more I fain would sing, disdaining here to rhyme. Yet euphrasy may not be left unsung, That gives dim eyes to wander leagues around; And pungent radish, biting infant's tongue; And plantain ribb'd, that heals the reaper's wound, And marjoram sweet, in shepherd's posie found; And lavender, whose spikes of azure bloom Shall be, erewhile, in arid bundles bound, To lurk amidst the labors of her loom, And crown her kerchiefs clean, with mickle rare perfume. And here trim rosemarine, that whilom crown'd The daintiest garden of the proudest peer; Ere, driven from its envied site, it found A sacred shelter for its branches here ; Where edg'd with gold its glittering skirts appear. Oh wassal days ! Oh customs meet and well ! Ere this was banish'd from his lofty sphere : Simplicity then sought this humble cell, Nor ever would she more with thane and lordling dwell. Here oft the dame, on Sabbath's decent eve, Hymned such psalms as Sternhold forth did mete. If winter 't were, she to her hearth did cleave, B>it in her garden found a summer-seat; Sweet melody ! to hear her then repete How Israel's sons, beneath a foreign king. While taunting foemen did a song entreat. All, for the nonce, untuning every string, Uphung their useless lyres — small heart had they to sing. For she was just, and friend to virtuous lore, And pass'd much time in truly virtuous deed ; And in those elfins' ears would oft deplore The times when Truth by Popish rage did bleed, 60 SINGLE FA MO US P OEMS. A.nd tortious death w.as true Devotion's meed; And simple Faith in iron chains did mourn, That nould on wooden image place her creed; And laAvny saints in smouldering flames did burn : Ah! dearest Lord, forefend, thilk days should e'er return. In elbow-chair, like that of Scottish stem By the sharp tooth of cankering eld defac'd, In which, when he receives his diadem. Our soverign prince and liefest liege is plac'd. The matron sate; and some with rank she grac'd (The source of children's and of courtiers' pride I ) Redress'd affronts, for vile affronts there pass'd; And warn'd them not the fretful to deride, But love each other dear, whatever them betide. Right well she knew each temper to descry ; To thwart the proud, and the submiss to raise ; Some with vile copper-prize exalt on high. And some entice with pittance small of praise, And other some with baleful sprig she 'frays : E'en absent, she the reins of power doth hold. While with quaint arts the giddy crowd she sways: Forewarn'd, if little bird their pranks behold, 'T will whisper in her ear, and all the scene unfold. Lo now with state she utters the command I Eftsoons the urchins to their tasks repair; Their books of stature small they take in hand, Which with pellucid horn secured are. To save from finger wet the letters fair : The work so gay that on their back is seen, St. George's high achievements does declare ; On which thilk wight that has y-gazing been. Kens the forthcoming rod, unpleasing sight, I ween I Ah luckless he, and born beneath the beam Of evil star I it irks me whilst I write : THE SCHOOL-MISTRESS. 61 As erst the bard * by Mulla's silver stream, Oft, as he told of deadly dolorous plight, Sigh'd as he sung, and did in tears indite. For brandishing the rod, she doth begin To loose the brogues, the stripling's late delight! And down they drop ; appears his dainty skin, Fair as the furry-coat of whitest ermilin. ruthful scene! when from a nook obscure, His little sister doth his peril see: All pliiyful as she sate, she grows demure; She finds full soon her wonted spirits flee : She meditates a prayer to set him free : Noi' gentle pardon could this dame deny (If gentle pardon could with dames agree) To her sad grief that swells in either eye. And wrings her so that all for pity she could die. No lunger can she now her shrieks command; Ami liiirdly she forbears, through awful fear, To nishen forth, and, with presumptuous hand, To slay harsh Justice in its mid career. On thee she calls, on thee her parent dear! (Ah ! too remote to ward the shameful blow 1) Slie sees no kind domestic visage near. And soon a flood of tears begins to flow; And gives a loose at last to unavailing woe. But ah! what pen his piteous plight may trace? Or what device his loud laments explain ? The form uncouth of liis disguised face ? The pallid hue that dyes his looks amain? The plenteous shower that does his cheek distain '( When he, in abject wise, implores the dame, Ne hopeth aught of sweet reprieve to gain ; • Spenser. t)2 aiJ^GLE FAMOUtS POEMS. Or when tVoiii high she levels well her aim, And, through tht- ihatch, his cries each falling stroke pro- claim. The ochej:, tribe, aghast, with sore dismay. At tend, and con their tasks with mickle care : By turns, astonied, every twig survey. And, from their fellow's hateful wounds, beware, Knowing, I wist, how each the same may share, Till fear has taught them a performance meet. And tp the well-known chest the dame repair; Whence oft with sugar'd cates she doth them greet, And ginger-bread y-rare ; now certes, doubly sweet. See to their seats they hie with merry glee. And in beseenily order sitten there ; All but the wight of bum y-galled, he Abhoneth bench, and stool, and form, and chair; (This hand in mouth y-fix'd, that rends his hair;) And eke witli snubs j)rofound, and heaving breast, Convulsions intermitting! does declare His grievous wrong; his dame's unjust behest; And scorns her offer'd love, and shuns to be caress'd. His face besprent with liquid crystal shines. His blooming face that seems a purple flower, Which low to earth its drooping head declines, AU smear' d and sullied by a vernal shower. O the hard bosoms of despotic power ! All, all, but she, the author of his shame. All, all, but she, regret this mournful hour; Yet hence the youth and hence the flower shall claim, If so I deem aright, transcending worth and fame. Behind some door, in melancholy thought, Mindless of food, he, dreary caitiff I pines, Ne for his fellows' joyaunce careth aught, But to the wind all merriment resigns; TEE SCHOOL. MISTRESS. 63 And deems it shame, if lie to peace inclines: And many a sullen look askance is sent, Which for his dame's annoyance he designs; And still the more to pleasure him she 's bent, The more doth he, perverse, her havior past resent. Ah me ! how much I fear lest pride it be ! But if that pride it be, which thus inspires, Beware, ye dames, with nice discernment see Ye quench not too the sparks of nobler fires: Ah ! better far than all the Muses' lyres, All coward arts, is Valor's generous heat ; The firm fixt breast which fit and right requires. Like Vernon's patriot soul ! more justly great Than Craft that pimps for ill, or flowery false Deceit. Yet nurs'd with skill, what dazzling fruits appear! E'en now sagacious Foresight points to show A little bench of heedless bishops here, And there a chancellor in embryo, Or bard sublime, if bard may e'er be so, As Milton, Shakespeare, names that ne'er shall die 1 Though now he crawl along the ground so low, Nor weeting how the Muse should soar on high, Wisheth, poor starveling elf I his paper kite may fly. And this perhaps, who, censuring the design, Low lays the house which that of cards doth build, Shall Dennis be I if rigid Fate incline. And many an epic to his rage shall yield; And many a poet quit th' Aonian field; And, sour'd by age, profound he shall appear, As he who now witli 'sduinful fury thrilled Surveys mine work; and levels many a sneer, A.nd furls his wrinkly front, and cries, "What stuff 19 64 SINGLE FAMOUS POEMS. But now Dan Phoebus gains the middle skie, And Liberty unbars her prison-door; And Hke a rushing torrent out tliey tiy, And now the grassy cirque had covered o'er, With boisterous revel-rout and wild uproar; A thousand ways in wanton rings they run, Heaven shield their short-liv'd pastime, I implore f For well may Freedom erst so dearly won, Appear to British elf more gladsome than the Sun. L^njoy, poor imps I enjoy your sportive trade, And chase gay flies, and cull the fairest flowers ; For when my bones in grass-green sods are laid, never may ye taste more careless hours In knightly castles, or in ladies' bowers. vain to seek delight in earthly thing ! But most in courts where proud Ambition towers ; Deluded wight! who weens fair Peace can spring Beneath the pompous dome of kesar or of king. See in each sprite some various bent appear 1 These rudely carol most incondite lay; Those sauntering on the green, with jocund leer Salute the stranger passing on his way ; Some builden fragile tenements of clay; Some to the standing lake their courses bend. With pebbles smooth at duck and drake to play ; Thilk to the huxter's savory cottage tend. In pastry kings and queens th' allotted mite to spend. Here, as each season j'ields a different store. Each season's stores in order ranged been ; Apples with cabbage-net y-covered o'er. Galling full sore th' unmoney'd wight, are seen ; And goose-b'rie clad in livery red or green; And here of lovely dye, the Catharine pear, Fine pear 1 as lovely for thy juice, I ween : THE CHAMELEON. gg may no wight e'er penniless come there, Lest smit with ardent love he pine with hopeless care! See I cherries here, ere cherries yet abound. With thread so white in tempting posies tied, Sfiittcriiig liin's \\\wv\ arise, and light them on their way. William Suenstone. C1)e ortamcUon. Oft has it been my lot to mark A proud, conceited, talking si)ark. With eyes, that hardly served at most To guaid their master 'gainst a post, Yet round the world the blade has been To see whatever could be seen. Returning from his finished tour. Grown ten times perter than before ; Whatever word you chance to drop. The traveled fool your luouth will stop; * Shrewsbury i aKcs. 06 SINGLE FAMOUS POEMS. '' Sir, if my judgment you '11 allow, I 've seen — and sure I ought to know," So begs you 'd pay a due submission, And acquiesce in his decision. Two travelei's of slich a cast. As o'er Arabia's wilds they passed. And on their way in friendly chat, Now talked of this, and then of that. Discoursed awhile, 'moiigst other matter, Of the chameleon's form and nature. "A stranger animal," cries one, " Sure never lived beneath the sun. A lizard's body, lean and long, A fish's head, a serpent's tongue. Its foot with triple claw disjoined ; And what a length of tail behind I How slow its pace ; and then its hue — Who ever saw so fine a blue?" " Hold, there," the other quick replies, " 'T is green, I saw it with these eyes, As late with open mouth it lay. And warmed it in the sunny ray : Stretched at its ease, the beast I viewed And saw it eat the air for food." " I 've seen it, sir, as well as you. And must again affirm it blue; At leisure I the beast surveyed. Extended in the cooling shade." "'T is green, 't is green, sir, I assure ye! " " Gr-^en I " cries the other in a fury — "Why, sir! — d' ye think I 've lost my eyes? " 'T wei'e no great loss," the friend replies, " For, if they always serve you thus, You '11 find them of but little use." THE CHAMELEON. g/^ So high at last tlie contest rose, From words they almost eame to blows; When luckily came by a tliii'ii— To him the question they referred. An ] begged he 'd tell 'em, if he knew, Whether the thing was green or blue. "Sirs," cries the umpire, "cease yonv pother! The creature 's neither one or t' other. I caught the animal last night, And viewed it o'er by candlelight: I marked it well— 't was black as jet,— You stare— but, sirs, I 've got it yet, And can produce it." " Pray, sir, do : I '11 lay my life the thing is blue." '•And I '11 be sworn, that when you 've seen The reptile, you '11 pronounce him green." " Well, then, at once to ease the doubt," Replies the man, " I '11 turn him out: And when before your eyes I've set him. If you don't find him black, I '11 eat him." He said : then full before their sight Produced the beast, and lo! — 't was white. Both stared, the man looked wondrous wise — " My children," the chameleon cries, (Then first the creature found a tongue), ' You all are right, and all are wrong: When next you talk of what you view, Think others see as well us you : Nor wonder, if you find that none Prefers youi eyesight to his own." James Merrick. 68 SINGLE FAMOUS POEMS. Smalg, SlSialg, 6ut Itobc be laonng. WALY, waly up the bank, And waly, waly down the brae, And'^waly, waly yon burn-side. Where I and my love wont to gae. 1 lean'd my back unto an aik, And thought it was a trusty tree, But first it bow'd, and syne it brak', Sae my true love did lightly me. waly, waly but love be bonny, A little time while it is new. But when 't is auld it waxeth cauld And fades away like morning dew. Oh I wherefore should I busk my head ? Or wherefore should I kame my hair? For my true love has me forsook. And says he '11 never love me mair. Now Arthur-Seat shall be my bed. The sheets shall ne'er be fyled by me, Saint Anton's well shall be my drink. Since my true love 's forsaken me. Martinmas wind, when wilt thou blaw. And shake the green leaves off the tree ? Oh, gentle death! when wilt thou come? For of my life I am weary. 'T is not the frost that freezes fell, Nor blowing snaw's inclemency : 'T is not sic cauld that makes me cry. But my love's heart grown cauld to me When we came in by Glasgow town. We were a comely sight to see; My love was clad in the black velvet. And I mysel' in cramasie. THE TEARS OF SCOTLAND. C9 But had I wist before 1 kiss'd That love had been so ill to win, I 'd lock'd my heart in a case of gold, And pinn'd it with a silver pin. And oh ! if my young babe were born, And set upon the nurse's knee, And I mysel' were dead and gane, Wi' the green grass growing over me I Anonymocts. Ci)e Cears of ^cotlanti. Mourn, hapless Caledonia, mourn Thy banish'd peace, thy laurels torn ! Thy sons, for valor long renown'd. Lie slaughter'd on their native ground ; Thy hospitable roofs no more Invite the stranger to the door ; In smoky ruins sunk they lie, The monuments of cruelty. The wretched owner sees afar His all become the prey of war ; Bethinks him of his babes and wife, Then smites his breast, and curses life. Thy swains are famish'd on the rocks. Where once they fed their wanton flocks: Thy ravish'd virgins shriek in vain ; Thy infants perish on the plain. What boots it then, in every clime, Through the wide-spreading waste of time, Thy martial glory, crown'd with praise, Still shone with undiminish'd blaze ? Thy tow'ring spirit now is broke. Thy neck is bended to the yoke. What foreign arms could never quell, By civU rage and rancor fell 6* 70 SINGLE FAMOUS POEMS The rural pipe and merry lay No more shall cheer the happy day : No social scenes of gay delight Beguile the dreary winter night: No strains but those of sorrow flow, And nought be heard but sounds of woe, While the pale phantoms of the slain Glide nightly o'er the silent plain. baneful cause, fatal morn, Accurs'd to ages yet unborn I The sons against their fathers stood. The parent shed his children's blood. Yet, when the rage of battle ceas'd, The victor's soul was not appeas'd: The naked and forlorn must feel Devouring flames, and murd'ring steel I The pious mother doom'd to death. Forsaken wanders o'er the heath, The bleak wind whistles round her head, Her helpless orphans cry for bread ; Bereft of shelter, food, and friend, She views the shades of niglit descend, And, stretcli'd beneath th' inclement skies, Weeps o'er her tender babes, and dies. While the warm blood bedews my veins, And unimpair'd remembrance reigns, Resentment of my country's fate Within my filial breast shall beat : And, spite of her insulting foe. My sympathizing verse shall flow : ■' Mourn, hapless Caledonia mourn Thy banish'd peace thy laurels torn ! " Tobias Smollett TEE VICAR OF BRAT. >j\ K\^t Ulrac of 13rag. In good King Charles's golden days, When loyalty no harm meant, A zealous high-churchman was I, And so I got preferment. To teach my flock I never missed : Kings were by God appointed. And lost are those that dare resist Or touch the Lord's anointed. And this is law that I'll maintain Until my dying day, sir, That whatsoever King shall reign, Still I'll be Vicar of Bray, sir. When royal James possessed the crown, And popery grew in fashion. The penal laws I hooted down. And read the declaration ; The church of Rome I found would fit Full well my constitution; And I had been a Jesuit But for the revolution. When William was our king declared, To ease the nation's grievance ; With this new wind about I steered, And swore to him allegiance ; Old principles I did revoke. Set conscience at a distance ; Passive obedience was a joke, A jest was non-resistance. When royal Anne became our queen, The church of England's glory, Another face of things was seen, And I became a Tory ; 72 SINGLE FAMOUS POEMS. Occasional conformists base, I blamed their moderation ; And thonght the church in danger was, By such prevarication. When George in pudding-time came o er, And moderate men looked big, sir, My principles I changed once more, And so became a Whig, sir ; And thus preferment I procured From our new faith's defender ; And almost every day abjured The pope and the pretender. The illustrious house of Hanover, And Protestant succession. To these I do allegiance swear — While they can keep possession : For in my faith and loyalty I nevermore will falter. And George my lawful king shall be — Until the times do alter. And this is law that I'll maintain Until my dying day, sir, That whatsoever king shall reign, Still I'll be Vicar of Bray, sir. ANONYMOUa i OTumnor ?l?aU. The dews of summer night did fall ; The moon, sweet regent of the sky, Silvered the walls of Cumnor Hall, And many an oak that grew thereby. Now naught was heard beneath the ski«», The sounds of busy life were still, GUMNOR HALL. V3 Save an unhappy lady's sighs, That issued from that lonely pile. " Leicester," she cried, " is this thy love That thou so oft hast sworn to me, To leave me in this lonely grove. Immured in shameful privity ? " No more thou com'st with lover's speed, Thy once beloved bride to see ; But be she alive, or be she dead, I fear, stern Earl, 's the same to thee. " Not so the usage I received When happy in my father's hall ; No faithless husband then me grieved, No chilling fears did me appal. " I rose up with the cheerful morn. No lark more blithe, no flower more ga And Uke the bird that haunts the thorn, So merrily sung the livelong day. '* If that my beauty is but small, Among court ladies all despised, Why didst thou rend it from that hall. Where, scornful Earl, it well was prized? "And when you first to me made suit, How fair I was, you oft would say I And proud of conquest, plucked the fruit, Then left the blossom to decay. "Yes! now neglected and despised, The rose is pale, the lily's dead ; But he that once their charms so prized. Is sure the cause those charms are fled. 7 74 SINGLE FAMOUS POEMS. " For know, when sick'ning grief doth prey, And tender love 's repaid with scorn, The sweetest beauty will decay, — What floweret can endure the storm? "At court, I'm told, is beauty's throne, Where every lady 's passing rare. That Eastern flowers, that shame tlic sim, Are not so glowing, not so fair. "Then, Earl, why didst thou leave tl:f 1-m1s Where roses and where lilies vie. To seek a primrose, whose pale shades Must sicken when those gauds are by? " 'Mong rural beauties I was one. Among the fields wild flowers are f.iir; Some country swain might me have wnw. And thought my beauty passing rare. " But, Leicester, (or I much am wrong,) Or 't is not beauty lures thy vows; Rather ambition's gilded crown Makes thee forget thy humble spouse. " Then, Leicester, why, again I plead, (The injured surely may repine,) — Why didst thou wed a country maid, When some fair princess might be thine? ** Why didst thou praise my humble charn- s. And, oh ! then leave them to decay 'I Why didst thou win me to thy arms. Then leave to mourn the hvelong day ? " The village maidens of the plain Salute me lowly as they go ; CUMNOR HALL. Envious they mark my silken train, Nor think a Countess can have woe. " The simple nymphs ! they little knovv' How far more happy 's their estate ; To smile for joy than sigh for wo(_' — To be content — than to be great. " How far less blest am I than them ? Daily to pine and waste with care! Like the poor plant, that, from its stem Divided, feels the chilling air. "Nor, cruel Earl! can I enjoy The humble charms of solitude ; Your minions proud my peace destroy, By sullen frowns or pratings rude. " Last night, as sad I chanced to stray. The village death-bell smote my ear; They winked aside, and seemed to say, ' Countess, prepare, thy end is near.' •'And now, while happy peasants sleep, Here I sit lonely and forlorn ; No one to soothe me as I weep, Save Philomel on yonder thoin. "My spirits flag — ray hopes decay — Still that dread death-bell smites my ear, And many a boding seems to say, ' Countess, prepare, thy end is near I ' " Thus sore and sad that lady grieved, In Cumnor Hall so lone and drear. And many a heartfelt sigh she hea-^'ed, And let fall many a bitter tear. 76 SINGLE FAMOUS POEMS. And ere the dawn of day appeared, In Cumnor Hall, so lone and drear, Full many a piercing scream was heard. And many a cry of mortal fear. The death-bell thrice was heard to ring, An aerial vo'ce was heard to call. And thrice the raven flapped its wing Around the towers of Cumnor Hall. The mastiff howled at village door. The oaks were shattered on the green ; Woe was the hour, for nevermore That hapless Countess e'er was seen. And in that manor now no more Is cheerful feast and sprightly ball ; For ever since that dreary hour Have spirits haunted Cumnor Hall. The village maids, with fearful glance, Avoid the ancient moss-grown wall, Nor ever lead the merry dance, Among the groves of Cumnor Hall. Full many a traveler oft hath sighed. And pensive wept the Countess' fall. As wandering onward they 've espied The haunted towers of Cumnor Hall. William Julius Micklr Efft Sailor's m^iU. And are ye sure the news is true? And are ye sure he 's weel? Is this a time to think o' Avark ? Ye jades, lay by your wheel THE SAILOR'S WIFE. 77 Is this the time to spin a thread, When Colin 's at the door ? Reach down my cloak, I '11 to the quay, And sue him come ashore. For thei'e 's nae luck about the house, There 's nae luck at a' , There 's little pleasuie in the house When our gudeman 's awa'. And gie to me my bigonet, My bishop's satin gown ; For I maun tell the bailie's wife That Colin 's in the town. My Turkey slippers maun gae on, My stockins pearly blue; It 's a' to pleasure our gudeman, For he 's baith leal and true. Rise, lass, and mak a clean fireside, Put on the muckle pot; Gie little Kate her button gown. And Jock his Sunday -coat; And mak their sliooii as black as slaes, Their hose as white as snaw ; It 's a' to please my ain gudeman. For he 's been lang awa'. There 's twa fat hens upo' the coop. Been fed this month and mair; Mak haste and thraw their necks about^ That Colin weel may fare; And spread the table neat and clean. Gar ilka thing look braw, For wha can tell how Colin fared When he was far awa' ? Sae true his heart, sae smooth his speech, His breath hke caller air; SINGLE FA AW US POEMS. His very foot has iiuisic in 't As he coines up tlie stair. And will I see his face again ? And will I hear him speak? .I'm downright dizzy wi' the thought— In troth I 'in like to greet! If Colin 's weel, and weel content, I hae nae mair to crave ; And gin I live to keep him sae, I 'm blest aboon the lave. And will I see his face again ? And will I hear him speak ? I 'm downright dizzy wi' the thought — In troth I 'm like to greet. For there 's nae luck about the house, There 's nae luck at a' ; There's little pleasure in the house When our jjudeman 's awa'. Jean Ad m E\)t Coper's ^pologB- I 'm often ask'd by plodding souls And men of crafty tongue, What joy I take in draining bowls. And tippling all night long. Now, though these cautious knaves I scorn, For once I "11 not disdain To tell them why I sit till morn \nd fill my glass again. 'T is by the glow my bumper gives Life's picture 's mellow made ; The fading light then brightly lives, And softly sinks tlie shade: THE TOPER' 8 APOLOGY. 79 Some happier tint still rises there With every drop I (h'ain — And that I think 's a reason fair To fill my glass again. My Muse, too, when her wings are dry, No frolic flight will take ; But round a bowl she '11 dip and fly, Like swallows round a lake. Then if the nymph will have her share Before she '11 bless her swain — Why that I think 's a reason fair To fill my glass again. In life I 've rung all changes too, — Run every pleasure down, — Tried all extremes of fancy through, And hved with half the town; For me there 's nothing new or rare Till wine deceives my brain — And that I think 's a reason fair To fill my glass again. There 's many a lad I knew is dead, And many a lass grown old ; And as the lesson strikes my head, My weary heart grows cold. But wine awhile drives off despair. Nay, bids a hope remain — And that I think 's a reason fair To fill my glass again. Then, hipp'd and vex'd at England's state In these convulsive days, I can't endure the ruin'd fate My sober eye surveys ; But, 'mivlst the bottle's dazzling glare, I see the gloom less plain — 80 SINGLE FA3I0U8 POEMS. And that I think 's a reason fair To fill my glass again. I find too when I stint my glass, .And sit with sober air, I 'm "prosed by some dull reasoning ass, Who treads the path of care ; Or, harder tax'd, I 'm forced to bear Some coxcomb's fribbling strain— And that I think 's a reason fair To fill my glass again. Nay, do n't we see Love's fetters, too, With different holds entwine ? While nought but death can some undo. There 's some give way to wine. With me the lighter head I wear The lighter hangs the chain — And that I think 's a reason fair To fill my glass again. And now I '11 tell, to end my song. At what I most repine; This cursed war, or right or wrong. Is war against all wine; Nay, Port, they say, will soon be rare As juice of France or Spain — And that I think 's a leason fair To fill my glass again. Charlks Morris etc Ct)cce ffiffiJacnrngs. The tree of deepest root is found Least willing still to quit the ground: 'T was therefore said by ancient sages. That love of life increased with years So much, that in our later stages, THE THREE WARNINGS. 81 When pains grow sharp, and sickness rages, The greatest love of life appears. This great affection to believe, Which all confess, but few perceive, — If old assertions can't prevail, — Be pleased to hear a modern tale. When sports went round, and all were gay, On neighbor Dodson's wedding-day. Death called aside the jocund groom With him into another room, And looking grave — " You must," says he, " Quit your sweet bride, and come with me." " With you I and quit my Susan's side ! With you ! " the hapless husband cried ; " Young as I am 't is monstrous hard 1 Besides, in truth, I 'm not prepared : My thoughts on other matters go ; This is my wedding-day you know." What more he urged, I have not heard. His reasons could not well be stronger; So Death the poor delinquent spared. And left to live a little longer. Yet calling up a serious look — His hour-glass treiiil)led while he spoke — " Neighbor," he said, " Farewell ! No more Shall Death disturb your mirthful hour; And farther, to avoid all blame Of cruelty upon my name, To give you time for preparation. And fit you for your future station, Three several warnings you shall have. Before you 're summoned to the grave. Willing for once I '11 quit my prey. And grant a kind reprieve. In hopes you '11 have no more to say, But, when I call again this way. Well pleased the world will leave." 7* 82 SINGLE FAMOUS POEMS. To these conditions both consented, And parted perfectly contented. What next the hero of our tale befell, How long he lived, how wise, how well, How-roundly he pursued his course. And smoked his pipe, and stroked his horse The willing muse shall tell. He chaffered then, he bought, he sold. Nor once perceived his growing old. Nor thought of death as near ; His friends not false, his wife no shrew, Many his gains, his children few, He passed his hours in peace. But while he viewed his wealth increase. While thus along life's dusty road The beaten track content he trod. Old Time, whose haste no mortal spares. Uncalled, unheeded, unawares. Brought on his eightieth year. And now, one night, in musing mood As all alone he sat, Th' unwelcome messenger of fate Once more before him stood. Half killed with anger and surprise, " So soon returned ! " old Dodson cries. " So soon, d' ye call it? " Death replies. " Surely, my friend, you 're but in jest I Since I ^vas here before 'T is six-and-thirty years at least. And you are now fourscore." " So much the worse," the clown rejoined " To spare the aged would be kind : However, see your search be legal ; And your authority — is 't regal ? Else you are come on a fool's errand, With but a secretary's warrant. Besides, you promised me Three Wai'uings, LIFE. 83 Which I have lookcl f,,r nights and niorniugs; But for that loss of time and (.■.•ise, £ can recover damages." "I know," cries Dealh, tiiat at tiie best I seldona am a welcome giu-st ; But do n't be captious, friend, :it least: I little thought you 'd still be aljle To stump about your farm and stalile; Your years have run to a great length; I wish you joy, though, of your strength 1 " "Hold," says the farmer, "not so fasti I have been lame these four years past." "And no great wonder," Death replies: " However, you still keep your eyes ; And sure, to see one's loves and friends, For legs and arms would make amends." " Perhaps," says Dodson, "so it might, But latterly I 've lost my sight." " This is a shocking tale, 't is true, But still there 's comfort left for you : Each strives your sadness to amuse; I warrant you hear all the news." "There 's none," cries he; "and if there were, I 'm grown so deaf 1 could not hear." "Nay, then," the spectre stern rejoined, " These are unwarrantable yearnino-s • If you are lame, and deaf, and blind, Tou 've had your three sufficient warnings. So, come along, no more we '11 part," He said, and touched him with his dart. And now old Dodson, turning pale, Yields to his fate — so ends my tale. Hestkb Thrale. Ei'fe. Life, I know not what thou art, But knew that thou and I must part; 84 SINGLE FAMOUS POEMS. And when, or how, or where we met, I own U) me 's a secret yet. Life, we have been long together, Throngli pleasant and through cloudy weather, 'T is hard to part when friends are dear, Perhaps 't will cost a sigh, a tear ; Then steal away, give little warning. Choose thine own time, Say not Good-Night, but in some brighter clime Bid me Good-Morning. Anna LjEtitia Barbauld ^ijaten 5!)an lue ^f)i;ee Mux .^Qam? When shall we three meet again? When shall we tiiiee meet again ? Oft shall glowing hope expire. Oft shall wearied love retire. Oft shall death and sorrow reign, Ere we three shall meet again. Though in distant lands we sigh. Parched b«neath a burning sky ; Though the deep between us rolls, Friendship shall unite our souls ; Oft in Fancy's rich domain ; Oft shall we three meet again. When our burnished locks are gray, Thinned by many a toil-spent day ; When around this youthful pine Moss shall creep and ivy twine, — Long may this loved bower remain- Here may we three meet again. When the dreams of hfe are fled ; When its wasted lamps are dead ; GAFFER GRAY. 85 When in cold oblivion's shade Beauty, wealth, and fame are laid, — Where immortal spirits reign. There may we three meet again. Anonymods. (Baffer ©tag. " He I why dost thou shiver and shake. Gaffer Gray, And why doth thy nose look so blue ? " " 'T is the weather that 's cold, 'T is I 'm gi-ovvn very old. And my doublet is not very new, Well-a-day ! " " Then line that warm doublet with ale, Gaffer Gray, And warm thy old heart with a glass." " Nay, but credit I 've none. And my money 's all gone ; Then say how may that come to pass ? Well-a-day ! " " Hie away to the house on the brow, Gaffer Gray, And knock at the jolly priest's door." " The priest often preaches Against worldly riches. But ne'er gives a mite to the poor, Well-a-day I " "The lawyer lives under the hill. Gaffer Gray, Warmly fenced both in back and in front." " He will fasten his locks. And will threaten the stocks, 8 86 SINGLE FAMOUS POEMS Should he evermore find me in want, Well-a day 1 " ' The squire has fat beeves and brown ale, -^ Gaffer Gray, And the season will welcome you there." " His fat beeves and his beer, And his merry new year. Are all for the flush and the fair, Well-a-day ! " " My keg is but low, I confess, Gaffer Gray, What then? While it lasts, man, we '11 live." " The poor man alone. When he hears the poor moan. Of his morsel a morsel will give, Well-a-day." Thomas Holcroft. 512a|)at (Constitutes a State. What constitutes a state ? Not high-raised battlement or labored mound. Thick wall or moated gate ; Not cities proud with spires and turrets crowned ; Not bays and broad-armed ports, Where, laughing at the storm, rich navies ride ; Not starred and spangled courts, Where low-browed baseness wafts perfume to :ride. No : — men, high-minded men. With povrers as far above dull brutes endued In forest, brake, or den. As beasts excel cold rocks and brambles rude, — Men who their duties know. But know their rights, and, knowing, dare maintain, Prevent the long-aimed blow, TO THE CUCKOO. %*l And crush the tyrant while they rend the chain ; These constitute a state ; And sovereign law, that state's collected will, O'er thrones and globes elate Sils empress, crowning good, repressing ill. Smit by her sacred frown. The fiend, Dissension, like a vapor sinks ; And e'en the all-dazzling crown Hides his faint rays, and at her bidding shrinks; Such was this heaven-loved isle. Than Lesbos fairer and the Cretan shonr I No more shall freedom smile ? Shall Britons languish, and be men no more? Since all must life resign, Those sweet rewards which decorate the brave 'Tis folly to decline, And steal inglorious to the silent grave. SiK William Jonks Co tf)e (ITucfetio. Hail, beauteous stranger of the grove ! Thou messenger of Spring I Now heaven repairs thy rural seat, And woods thy welcome sing. Soon as the daisy decks the green, Thy certain voice we hear. Hast thou a star to guide thy path. Or mark the rolling year ? Delightful visitant! with thee I hail the time of flowers. And hear the sound of music sweet From birds among the bowers. The school-boy, wandering through the wood To pull the primrose gay, 88 SINGLE FAMOUS POEMS. Starts, thy most curious voice to hear, And imitates thy lay. What time the pea puts on the bloom, Thou fliest thy vocal vale, An annual guest in other lands, Another spring to hail. Sweet bird ! thy bower is e-er green, Thy sky is ever clear ; Thou hast no sorrow in thy song, No winter in thy year! Oil, could 1 fly, I "d fly with thee I We 'd make, with joyful wing. Our annual visit o'er the globe, Attendants on the Spring. John Logan. When the sheep are in the fauld, and a' the kye at hame, And a' the weary warld to sleep are gane, The waes o' my heart fall in showers from my e'e, While my gudeman sleeps sound by me. Young Jamie lo'ed me weel, and sought me for his bride, But saving a crown he had naithing else beside : To mak' the crown a pound, my Jamie went to sea, And the crown and the pound were baith for me. He had nae been gane a year and a day. When my faither brake his arm, and our cow was stole away; My mither she fell sick, and Jamie at the sea, And auld Robin Gray cam' a courting to me. MARTS DREAM. 89 My faither could na wark, my mither could na s;>iii, I tcQ'd day and night, but their bread I could na win ; Auld Rob maintain'd 'em baith, and wi' tears in his e'e, Said, •' Jennie, for their sakes, oh marry me." My heart it said nay, for I look'd for Jamie back, But the wind it blew hard, and the ship was a wrack — The ship was a wrack, why did na Jamie dee ? Or why was I spared to cry, Wae's me ! My faither urged me sair, my mither did na speak, But she look'd in my face till my heart was like to break : They gi'ed him my hand, though my heart was at sea, — So auld Robin Gray is gudeman to me I I had na been a wife a week but only four, When, sitting sae mournfully out at my door, I saw my Jamie's wraith, for I could na think it he, Till he said, " I 'm come harae, love, to marry thee." Sair, sair did we greet, and mickle did we say, — We took but ae kiss, and tare oursels away : I wish I were dead, but I am na lik' to dee, — Oh, why was I born to say, Wae's me I 1 gang like a ghaist, but I care not to spin ; I c^are not think on Jamie, for that would be a sin ; So I will do my best a gude wife to be, For auld Robin Gray is kind unto me. Lady Anne Barnard. iBarj)'s Urcam. The moon had climbed the highest hill Which rises o'er the source of Dee, And from the eastern summit shed Iler silver light on tower and tree. •to 81MJLE FAMOUS POEMS. Wlien Mary laid her down to sleep, Ilei thoughts on Sandy fai- at sea, When, soft and slow, a voice was heard, Saying, " Mary, weep no more I'or nie I She from her pillow gently raised Her head, to ask who there might be, And saw young Sandy shivering stand, With visage pale, and hollow e'e. " Mary dear, cold is my clay ; It lies beneath a stormy sea. Far, far from thee I sleep in death ; So, Mary, weep no more for me I " Three stormy nights and stormy days We tossed upon the raging main ; And long we strove our bark to save, But all our striving was in vain. Even then, when horror chilled my blood, My heart was filled with love for thee: The storm is past, and I at rest ; So, Mary, weep no more for me I " maiden dear, thyself prepare ; We soon shall meet upon that shore, Where love is free from doubt and care, And thou and I shall part no more! " Loud crowed the cock, the shadow fled, No more of Sandy could she see ; But soft the passing spirit said, *' Sweet Mary, weep no more for me I '' John Lowk. 512ai)at is €ime? I ASKED an aged man, with hoary hairs, Wrinkled and curved with worldly cares : WHAT IS TIME? 91 ' Time i> the warp of life," said he ; " 0, tell The young, the fair, the gay, to weave it well I " I asked the ancient, venerable dead, Sages who wrote, and warriors who bled : From the cold grave a hollow murmur flowed, " Time sowed the seed we reap in this abode ! " I asked a dying sinner, ere the tide Of life had left his veins : " Time ! " he replied; " I 've lost it! ah, the treasure! " — and he died. I asked the golden sun and silver spheres, Those bright chronometers of days and years : They answered, " Time is but a meteor glare," And bade me for eternity prepare. I asked the Seasons, in their annual round, Which beautify or desolate the ground ; And they replied (no oracle more wise), '"T is Folly's blank, and Wisdom's highest prize! " I asked a spirit lost, — but the shriek That pierced my soul ! I shudder while I speak. It cried, " A particle ! a speck ! a mite Of endless years, duration infinite ! " Of things inanimate, my dial I Consulted, and it made me this reply,— " Time is the season fair of living well, The path of glory or the path of hell." I asked my Bible, and methinks it said, " Time is the present hour, the past has fled ; Live ! hve to-day ! to-morrow never yet On any human being rose or set." I asked old Father Time himself at last ; But in a moment he flew swiftly past, His chariot was a cloud, the viewless wind His noiseless steeds, which left no trace behind. I asked the mighty angel who shall stand One foot on sea and one on solid land : " Mortal ! " he cried, " the mystery now is o'er ; Time was. Time is, but Time shall be no more I William Marsdkn 9 2 SINGLE FAMO US P OEMS. Cf)f (ffifrobfs of 13latneg. The groves of Blarney, they look so charming, Down by the purlings of sweet silent brooks, All decked wath posies, that spontaneous grow thisre. Planted in order in the rocky nooks. 'T is there the daisy, and the sweet carnation, The blooming pink, and the rose so fair ; Likewise the lily, and the daffodilly — All flowers that scent the sweet, open air. 'T is Lady Jaflers owns this plantation. Like Alexander, or like Helen fair; There 's no commander in all the nation For regulation can with her compare. Such walls suriound her, that no nine-pounder Could ever plunder her place of strength; But Oliver Cromwell, he did her pommel, And made a breach in her battlement. There 's gravel walks there for speculation, And conversation in sweet solitude ; 'T is there the lover may hear the dove, or The gentle plover, in the afternoon. And if a young lady should be so engaging As to walk alone in those shady bowers, 'T is there her courtier, he may transport her In some dark port, or under ground. For 't is there 's the cave where no daylight enters, But bats and badgers are forever bred; Being mossed by natur' which makes it sweeter Than a coach and six, or a feather bed. 'T is there 's the lake that is stored with perches, And comely eels in the verdant mud ; Besides the leeches, and the groves of beeches. All standing in order for to guard the flood. HELEN OF KIRKGONNEL. 33 'T is there 's the kitchen hangs many a flitch in, With the maids a-stitching upon the stair ; The bread and biske', the beer and whiskey, Would make you frisky if you were there. 'T is there you 'd see Peg Murphy's daughter A wasliing praties forenent the door, With Roger Cleary, and Father Healy, All blood relations to my Lord Donoughmore. There 's statues gracing this noble place in, All heathen goddesses so fair — Bold Neptune, Plutarch, and Nicodemus, All standing naked in the open air. So now to finish this brave narration, Which my poor geni' could not entwine; But were I lloiiicr, or Nebuchadnezzar, 'T is ill eveiy feature I would make it shine, RicuAKD Alkrkd Millikin. Il^clfu of liirkconncl. I WISH I were where Helen lies, For night and day on me she cries, And, like an angel, to the skies Still seems to beckon me I For me she lived, for me she sigh'd, For me she wish'd to be a bride, For me in life's sweet morn she died On fair Kirkconnel-Lee I Where Kirtle waters gently wind. As Helen on my arm reclined, A rival with a ruthless mind Took deadly aim at me. My love, to (iis:i|>])oiiit tlie foe, Iiiish'd ill l)etwe('ii iiii' inul tlie blow; Ami now licr corse is i}ing low, On lair Kirkcomiei-Lee! 8* 94 SINGLE FAMOUS POEMS. Though Heaven forbids my wrath to swell, I curse the hand by which she fell, The fiend who made my heaven a hell, And tore my love from me I Forif, when all the graces shine, 0, if on earth there 's aught divine, My Helen, aU these charms were thine, They centred all in thee ! Ah I what avails it that, amain, I clove the assassin's head in twain ? No peace of mind, my Helen slain, No resting-place for me, I see her spirit in the air — I hear the shriek of wild despair, When murder laid her bosom bare. On fair Kirkconnel-Lee ! 0, when I 'm sleeping in my gi'ave, And o'er my head the rank weeds wave, May He who life and spirit gave Unite my love and me I Then from this world of doubts and sighsy My soul on wings of peace shall rise, And, joining Helen in the skies, Forget Kirkconnel-Lee. John Maynk CTonnel anti ^lora. Dark lowers the night o'er the wide stormy main, Till mild rosy morning rise cheerful again ; Alas ! mom returns to revisit the shore ; But Connel returns to his Flora no more. For see, on yon mountain the dark cloud of death O'er Connel's lone cottage, lies low on the heath ; While bloody and pale on a far distant shore He lies, to return to his Flora no more. THE SOLDIER. 95 Ye light fleeting spirits that ghde o'er the steep, 0, would you but waft me across the wild deep, Then- fearless I 'd mix in the battle's loud roar, I 'd ilie with my Connel, and leave him no more. Alexander Wilsoii. What dreaming drone was ever blest, By thinking of the morrow ? To-day be mine — I leave the rest To all the fools of sorrow ; Grive me the mind that mocks at care, The heart its own defender; The spirits that are light as air. And never beat surrender. On comes the foe — to ai-uis — to arras — We meet — 't is death or glory ; 'T is victory in all her charms, Or fame in Britain's story ; Dear native land! thy fortunes fruwn. And ruffians would enslave thee ; Thou land of honor and renown, Who would not die to save thee ? 'T is you, 't is I, that meets the ball; And me it better pleases In battle with the brave to fall, Than die of cold diseases; Than drivel on in elbow-chair With saws and tales unheeded, A tottering thing of aches and care, Nor longer loved nor needed. But thou — dark is thy flowing hair. Thy eye with fire is streaming. And o'er thy cheek, thy looks, thine air, Health sits in triumph beaming; 06 SINGLE FAMOUS POEMS. Then, brothei soldier, fill the wine, Fill high the wine to beauty ; Love, friendship, honor, all are thine, Thy country and thy duty. V William Smyth. Ci)c Reggae. Pity the sorrows of a poor old man, Wliose trembling limbs have borne him to your dooi Whose days are dwindled to the shortest span, 0, give relief, and Heaven will bless your store. These tattered clothes my poverty bespeak, These hoary locks proclaim my lengthened years; And many a furrow in my grief-worn cheek Has been the channel of a stream of tears. Yon house, erected on the rising ground, With tempting aspect drew me from my road, For plenty there a residence has found. And grandeur a maguilircnt abode. Hard is the fate of the indrm and poor ! Here craving for a morsel of their bread, A pamj)ered menial forced me from the door, To seek a shelter in a humbler shed. 0, take me to your hospitable dome. Keen bluws the wind, and piercing is the cold; Short is my passage to the friendly tomb, For I am poor and miserably old. Should I reveal the source of every grief, If soft humanity e'er touched your breast, ITour hands would not withhold the kind relief And tears of pity could not be repressed. THE ORPHAN BOY. 97 Heaven sends misfortunes — why should we repine if 'T is heaven has brouglit nie to the state you see: And your condition may be soon hke mine, The child cf sorrow and of misery. A little farm wajs iry paternal lot, Then like the laik I sprightly hailed the morn ; But ah ! oppression forced me from my cot ; My cattle died, and blighted was my corn. My daughter, once the comfoit of my age. Lured by a villain from her native home. Is cast, abandoned, on the world's wild stage, And doomed- in scanty poverty to roam. My tender wife, sweet soother of my care. Struck with sad anguish at the stern decree, Fell, lingering full, a victim of despair. And left the world to wretchedness and me. Then pity the sorrows of a poor old man. Whose trembling limbs have borne him to your dooi, Whose days are dwindled to the shortest span, 0, give relief, and Heaven will bless your store. Thomas Moss. Cf)e (©rpi)an ii3ojr). Stay, lady, stay, for mercy's sake. And hear a helpless orphan's tale ; Ah, sure my looks must pity wake, — 'T is want that makes my cheek so pale; Yet I was once a mother's pride, And my brave father's hope and joy ; But in the Nile's proud fight he died, And I am now an orphan boy. 98 SINGLE FAMOUS POEMS Poor, foolish child ! how pleased was I, When news of Nelson's victory came, Along the crowded streets to fly, To see the lighted windows flame 1 To force me home my mother sought, — She could not bear to liear my joy ; For with my father's life 't was bought,— And made me a poor orphan boy. The people's shouts were long and loud ; My mother, shuddering, closed her ears, " Rejoice ! rejoice ! " still cried the crowd, — My mother answered with her tears I " 0, why do tears steal down your cheek," Cried I, " while others shout for joy ? " She kissed me, and in accents weak. She called me her poor orphan boy. " What is an orphan boy ? " I said ; When suddenly she gasped for breath, And her eyes closed ! I shrieked for aid, But ah ! her eyes were closed in death. My hardships since I will not tell ; But now, no more a parent's joy. Ah! lady, I have learned too well What 't is to be an orphan boy. 0, were I by your bounty fed — Nay, gentle lady, do not chide ; Trust me, I mean to earn my bread, — The sailor's orphan boy has pride. Lady, you weep ; what is 't you say ? You '11 give me clothing, food, employ? Look down, dear parents, look and see Your happy, happy orphan boy I Amelia Opik. THE TEARS I SHED. 99 N(sl)t. Mysterious Night, when our first parent knew Thee, from report divine, and heard thy name, Did he not tremble for this lovely frame. This glorious canopy of light and blue? Yet 'neath a curtain of translucent dew Bathed in the rays of the great setting flame, Hesperus with the host of heaven came. And lo! Creation widened on Man's view. Who could have thought such darkness lay concealed Within thy beams, Sun ! or who could find, While flower, and leaf, and insect stood revealed, That to such countless orbs thou mad'st us blind I Why do we then shun death with anxious strife ? If light can thus deceive, wherefore not life ? Joseph Blanco White. The tears I shed must ever fall : I mourn not for an absent swain ; For thoughts may past delights recall. And parted lovers meet again. I weep not for the silent dead ; Their toils are past, their sorrows o'er; And those they loved their steps shall tread, And death shall join to part no more. Though boundless oceans roll between, If certain that his heart is near, A conscious transport glads each scene. Soft is the sigh, and sweet the tear. E'en when by death's cold hand removed, We mourn the tenant of the tomb. To think that e'en in death he loved, Can gild the horrors of the gloom. 1 00 SINGLE FAMO US P OEMS. But bitter, bitter are the tears Of licr who sHghted love bewails; No hope her dreary prospect cheers, No pleasing melancholy hails. Ilex's are the pangs of wounded pride, Of blasted hope, of wither'd joy ; The flatt'ring veil is rent aside, The flame of love burns to destroy. In vain does memory renew The hours once tinged in transport's dye ; The sad reverse soon starts to view. And turns the past to agony. E'en time itself despairs to cure Those pangs to ev'ry feeling due: Ungenerous youth ! thy boast how poor, To win a heart — and break it too ! [No cold approach, no alter'd mien, Just what would make suspicion start ; No pause the dire extremes between, He made me blest — and broke my heart.] From hope, the wretched's anchor, torn ; Neglected and neglecting all ; Friendless, forsaken, and forlorn; The tears I shed must ever fall. Helkn Cranstoun Stewart Co an $ntiian (Solti i£oin. Slave of the dark and dirty mine, What vanity has brought thee here? How can I love to see thee shine So bright, whom I have bought so dear ? The tent -ropes flapping lone I hear For twilight converse, arm in arm ; The jackal's shriek bursts on mine ear When mirth and music wont to charm. TO AN INDIAN GOLD COIN. loi By Cherical's dark wandering streams, Where cane-tufts shadow all the wild. Sweet visions haunt my waking dreams Of Teviot loved while still a child, Of castled rocks stupendous piled By Esk or Eden's classic wave, Where loves of youth and friendship smiled, Uncursed by thee, vile yellow slave I Fade, day-dreams sweet, from memory fade I The perished bhss of youth's first prime, Tliat once so bright on fancy played. Revives no more in after-time. Far from my .sacred natal clime, I haste to an untimely grave; The daring thoughts that soared sublime Are sunk in ocean's southern wave. Slave of the mine, thy yellow light Gleams baleful as the tomb-fire drear. A gentle vision comes by night My lonely widowed heart to cheer: Her eyes are dim with many a tear. That once were guiding stars to mine; Her fond heart throbs with many a fear! I cannot bear to see thee shine. For thee, for thee, vile yellow slave, I left a heart that loved me true ! I crcssed the tedious ocean-wave. To roam in climes unkind and new. The cold wind of the stranger blew Chill on my withered heart; the grave Dark and untimely met my view, — And all for thee, vile yellow slave I Ha I com'st thou now so late to mock A wanderer's banished heart forlorn, ,102 SINGLE FAMOUS POEMS. Now that his tVaiiic the liirlitiiiiig shock Ui sun-rays tijjjK'd with death has bor.ie? From love, from t'riendsliip, country, torn, To memory's fond regrets the |>iey, Vile slave, thy yellow^ dross I scorn I Go mix thee with thy kindreil clay 1 John Leydek. a Vmt from ^t. Xirtjolas. 'T v?AS the night before Christinas, wlicn all through the house Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse; The stockings were hung by the chinuiey with care, In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would Ix- there ; The children were nestled all snug in their lieds, While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads; And Mamma in her kerchief, and I in my cap. Had just settled our brains for a long winter nap, — When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter. Away to the window I flew like a flash, Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash. The moon, on the breast of the new-fallen snow, Gave a lustre of midday to objects below^ ; When, what to my wondering eyes should appear, But a miniature sleigh and eight tiny reindeer, With a little old driver, so lively and quick, T knew in a moment it must be St. Nick. More rapid than eagles his coursers they came. And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name: ' Now, Dasher 1 now. Dancer ! now, Prancer and Vixen On 1 Comet, on ! Cupid, on I Dunder and Blixen — To the top of the porch, to the top of the wall ! Now, dash away, dash away, dash away all I " As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly. When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky, THE ST AR-SF ANGLED BANNER. 108 So, up to the house-top the coursers they flew, With the sleigh full of toys— and St. Nicholas * .o. And then in a twinkling I heard on the roof The prancing and pawing of each little hoof. As I drew in my head, and was turning around, Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a .bound. He was dressed all in fur from his head to his foot, And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot; A bundle of toys he had flung on his back. And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack. ,iri i' His eyes how they twinkle ! his dimples how merry 1 His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry ; His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow, And the beard on his chin was as white as the snow. The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth, And the smoke, it encircled his head like a wreath. He had a broad face and a little round belly That shook, when he laughed, like a bowl full of jelly. He was chubby and plump — a right jolly old elf; And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself. A wink of his eye, and a twist of his head, Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread. He spoke not a word, but went straight to his wcrt, And fi'led all the stockings; then turned with ajeik, And laying his finger aside of his nose. And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose. He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle, And away they all flew like the down of a thistle ; But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight, " Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night I " Clement C. Moork. 0, say, can you see, by the dawn's early light. What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleam- ing? 104 SINGLE FAMOUS POEMS. Whose broad stripes and bright stars through the perilous fight, O'er the ramparts we watched were so gallantly stream- ino" ■ And the rocket's red glare, the bombs bursting in air, Gave proof throiigh the night that our flag was still there. 0, say, does that star-spangled banner yet wave O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave? On the shore, dimly seen through the mists of the deep, Where the foe's haughty host in (h-ead silence reposes, What is that which the breeze, o'er the towering steep, As it fitfully blows, half conceals, half discloses? Now it catches the gleam of the morning's first beam. In full glory reflected now shines on tlie stream. 'T is the star-spangled banner ! 0, long may it wave O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave I y And where is that band who so vauntingly swore That the havoc of war and the battle's confusion A home and a country should leave us no more ? Their blood has washed out their foul footsteps' pollutioa No refuge could save the hireling and slave, From the terror of death and the gloom of the grave. And the star-spangled banner in triumph shall wave O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave I 0, thus be it ever, when freemen shall stand Between their loved homes and the war's desolation , Blest with victory and peace, may the heaven-rescued land Praise the power that has made and preserved us a na- tion. Then conquer we must, for our cause it is just, And this be our motto, " In God is our trust." And the star-spangled banner in triumph shall wave O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave 1 Francis Scott Kkt. LUCY'S FLITT IS \ i of 'T WAS when tlie wan leaf frae the birk tree was fa'in', And Martinmas dowie had wound up the year, That Lucy row'd up lier wee kist wi' her a' in 't And left her auld inaister and neebours sae dear. For Lucy had served in "The Glen" a' the simmer; She cam' there afore the flower bloom'd on the pea; An orphan was she, and they had been gude till her, Sure that was tlic thing brocht the tear to her ee. v She gaed by the stable where Jamie was stannin', Richt sair was his kind heart the flittin' to see : Fare-ye-weel, Lucy I quo Jamie, and ran in; The gatherin' tears trickled fast frae his ee. As down the burn-side she gaed slow wi' the flittin', Fare-ye-weel, Lucy I was ilka bird's sang ; She heard the craw sayin' 't, high on the tree sittin', And robin was chirpin' 't the brown leaves amang. Oh, what is 't that pits my puir heart in a flutter ? And what gars the tears come sae fast to my ee ? If I wasna ettled to be ony better, Then what gars me wish ony better to be ? I 'm just like a lammie that loses its mither ; Nae mither or friend the puir lammie can see ; I fear 1 ha'e tint my puir heart a'thegither, Nae wonder the tear fa's sae fast frae my ee. Wi' the rest o' my claes I hae row'd up the ribbon. The bonnie blue ribbon that Jamie ga'e me ; Yestreen, when he ga'e me 't, and saw I was sabbin', I '11 never forget the wae blink o' his ee. Though now he said naething but Fare-ye-weel, Lucy 1 It made me I neither could speak, hear, nor see ; He cudna say mair but just, Fare-ye-weel, Lucy ! Yet that I will mind till the day that I dee. 9* 106 SINGLE FAMOUS POEMS. [The lamb likes the gowan wi' dew when its droiikit ; The hare likes the brake, and the braird on the lea; But Lucy likes Jamie ; — she turned and she lookit, She thocht the dear place she wad never mair see. Ah, weel may young Jamie gang dowie and cheerless, And weel may he greet on the bank o' the burn ; For bonnie sweet Lucy, sae gentle and peerless, Lies cauld in her grave, and will never return.] William Laiplaw ^ iLitang foe JBonecaile. Alas I how dismal is my tale ! — I lost my watch in Doneraile ; My Dublin watch, my chain and seal Pilfered at once in Doneraile. May fire and brimstone never fail To fall in showers on Doneraile ; May all the leading fiends assail The thieving town of Doneraile. As lightnings flash across the vale, So down to hell with Doneraile ; The fate of Pompey at Pharsale, Be that the curse of Doneraile. May beef or mutton, lamb or veal, Be never found in Doneraile ; But garhc soup, and scurvy kail. Be still the food for Doneraile. And forward as the creeping snail Th' industry be of Doneraile ; May Heaven a chosen curse entail On rigid, rotten Doneraile. May sun and moon forever fail To beam their lights in Doneraile ; A LITANY FOR DONERAILR \Qi May every pestilentiiil gale Blast that cursed sj)ot called Doneraile. May no sweet cuckoo, thrush, or quail, Be ever heard in Doneraile ; May patriots, kings, and commonweal, Despise and harass Doneraile. May every Post, Gazette, and Mail Sad tidings bring of Doneraile ; May loudest thunders ring a peal, To blind and deafen Doneraile. May vengence fall at head and tail, From north to south, at Doneraile ; May profit light, and tardy sale, Still damp the trade of Doneraile. May Fame resound a dismal tale, Whene'er she lights on Doneraile ; May Egypt's plagues at once prevail, To thin the knaves of Doneraile. May frost and snow, and sleet and hail, Benumb each joint in Doneraile ; May wolves and bloodhounds trace and trail The cursed crew of Doneraile. May Oscar, with his fiery flail. To atoms thresh all Doneraile ; May every mischief, fresh and stale. Abide, henceforth, in Doneraile. May all, from Belfast to Kinsale, Scoff, curse, and damn you, Doneraile ; May neither flour nor oatenmeal Be found or known in Doneraile. 108 SINGLE FAMOUS. I' OEMti. May want and wo each joy curtail That e'er was know-n in Doneraile ; May no one coffin want a nail, That wraps a rogue in Doneraile. May 'fill the thieves that rob and steal, The gallows meet in Doneraile ; May all the sons of Granaweal Blush at the thieves of Doneraile. May mischief big as Norway whale O'erwhelni the knaves of Doneraile ; May curses, wholesale and retail, Poui- with full foi'ce on Donerai.e. May every transport wont to sail, A convict bring from Doneraile ; May every ciiurn and milking-pa,l Fall dry to staves in Doneraile. May cold and hunger still congeal The stagnant blood of Doneraile ; May every hour new woes reveal, That hell reserves for Doneraile. May every chosen ill prevail O'er all the imps of Doneraile ; May no one wish or prayer avail To soothe the woes of Doneraile. May th' Inquisition straight impale The rapparees of Doneraile; May Cliaron's boat triumphant sail, Cornjiletely manned from Doneraile. Oh ! may my couplets never fail To find a curse for Doneraile ; And may grim Pluto's innei'jail For ever groan with Doneraile. Patrick O'Kellt, THE PHILOSOPHER'S SCALES. io9 T WAS in heuven pronounced, and 't was muttered in holL, And echo caught faintly the sound as it fell; On the confines of earth 't was permitted to rest, And the depths of the ocean its presence confessed. 'T will be found in the sphere when 't is riven asunder. Be seen in the lightning and heard m the thunder. 'T was allotted to man with his earliest breath. Attends him at birth, and awaits him in death. Presides o'er his happiness, honor, and health, Is the prop of his house, and the end of his wealth. In the heaps of the miser 't is hoarded with care, But is sure to be lost on his prodigal heir. It begins every hope, eveiy wish it must bound. With the husbandman toils, and with monarchs is crowned. Without it the soldier, the seaiuai.. may I'oani ; But woe to the wretch who expels it from home! In the whispers of conscience its voice will be found. Nor e'en in the whirlwind of passion be drowned. 'T will not soften the heart; but, though deaf be the ear, It will make it acutely and instantly hear. Yet in shade let it rest, like a delicate flower, Ah! breathe on it softly — it dies in an hour. Catiikkine Fanshawe. A MONK, when his rites sacerdotal were o'ei-. In the depths of his cell with its stone-coveit-d Ho ir, Resigning to thought his chimerical brain, Once formed the contrivance we now shall explain; But whether by magic's or alchemy's powers We know not ; indeed, 't is no business of ours. Perhaps it was only by patience and care, At last, that he brought his invention to bear, 10 10 SINGLE FAMOUS POEMS. In youth 't was projected, but years stole away, Ami ere 't was complete he was wrinkled and gray; But success is secure, unless energy fails; And at length he produced the Philosopher's Scales. ' What were they ? " you ask. You shall presently see ; These scales were not made to weigh sugar and tea. no ; for such properties wondrous had they, That qualities, feelings, and thoughts they could weigh, Together with articles small or immense, From mountains or planets to atoms of sense. Naught was there so bulky but there it would lay. And naught so ethereal but there it would stay, And naught so reluctant but in it must go: All which some examples more clearly will show. The first thing he weighed was the head of Voltaire, Which retained all the wit that had ever been there. As a weight, he threw in a torn scrap of a leaf, Containing the prayer of the penitent thief; When the skull rose aloft with so sudden a spell That it bounced like a ball on the roof of the cell. One time he put in Alexander the Great, With a garment that Dorcas had made for a weight; And though clad in armor from sandals to crown, The hero rose up, and the garment went down. A long row of ahns-houses, amply endowed By a well-esteemed Pharisee, busy and pro\id. Next loaded one scale ; while the other was pressed By those mites the poor widow dropped into the chest; Up flew the endowment, not weighing an o-..nce. And down, down the farthing- worth came with a bounce By further experiments (no matter how) He found that ten chariots weighed less than one plough ; A MODEST WIT. \\\ A sword with gilt trapping rose up in the scale, Though balanced by only a ten-penny nail ; A shield and a helmet, a buckler and spear, Weighed less than a widow's uncrystallized tear. A lord and a lady went up at full sail. When a bee chanced to light on the opposite scale j Ten doctors, ten lawyers, two courtiers, one earl, Ten counselors' wigs, full of powder and curl, All heaped in one balance and swinging from thence, Weighed less than a few grains of candor and sense; A first-water diamond, with brilliants begirt, Than one good potato just washed from the dirt ; Yet not mountains of silver and gold could suffice One pearl to outweigh, — 't was the Pearl of Great Price. Last of all, the whole world was bowled in at the grate, With the soul of a beggar to serve for a weight, When the former sprang up with so strong a rebuff That it made a vast rent and escaped at the roof 1 When balanced in air, it ascended on high, And sailed up aloft, a balloon in the sky ; While the scale Avith the soul in 't so mightily fell That it jerked the philosopher out of his cell. Jane Taylor. A SUPERCILIOUS nabob of the East — Haughty, being great — purse-proud, being rich- A governor, or general, at the least, I have forgotten which — Had in his family a humble youth. Who went from England in his patron's suite, An unassuming boy, in truth A lad of decent parts, and good repute. 112 SINGLE FAMO US P OEMS. This youth had sense and spirit; But yet with all his sense, Excessive diffidence Obscured his merit. One day, at table, flushed with pride and wine, His honor, proudly free, severely merry Conceived it would be vastly fine To crack a joke upon his secretary. " Young man," he said, " by what art, craft, or trade, Did your good father gain a livelihood ? " — " He was a saddler, sir," Modestus said, " And in his time was reckon'd good." "A saddler, eh! and taught you Greek, Instead of teaching you to sew ! Pray, why did not your father make A saddler, sir, of you ? " Each parasite, then, as in duty bound, The joke applauded, and the laugh went round. At length Modestus, bowing low, Said (craving pardon, if too free he made), " Sir, by your leave, I fain would know Your father's ti-ade 1 " " My father's trade I by heaven, that 's too bad I My father's trade ? Why, blockliead, are you mad ? My father, sir, did never stoop so low — He was a gentleman, I 'd have you know." " Excuse the liberty I take," Modestus said, with archness on his brow, " Pray, why did not your father make A gentleman of you ? " Sklleck Osborm. SAINT PATRICK US Saittt i^atricfe. St. Patrick was a gentleman, Who came of decent people ; He built a church in Dublin town, And on it put a steeple. His father was a Gallagher ; His mother was a Brady; His aunt was an O'Shaughnessy, His uncle an O'Grady. So, success attend St. Patrick's fist, For he 's a saint so clever ; Oh ! he gave the snakes and toads a twist, And bothered them forever 1 The Wicklow hills are very liigh, And so 's the hill of Howth, sir; But there 's a hill, much bigger still, Much higher nor them both, sii' : 'T was on the top of this high hill St. Patrick preached his sarmint That drove the frogs into the bogs, And banished all the varmint. There 's not a mile in Ireland's isle Where dirty varmin musters, But where he put his dear fore-foot, And murdered them in clusters. The toads went pop, the frogs went hop, Slap-dash into the water; And the snakes committed suicide To save themselves from slaughter. Nine hundred thousand reptiles blue He charmed with sweet discourses, And dined on them at Killaloe In soups and second courses. 11.4 SINGLE FAMOUS POEMS. Where blind-worms crawling in the grass Disgusted all the nation, He gave them a rise, which opened their eyes To a sense of their situation. No wonder that those Irish lads Should be so gay and frisky, For sure St. Pat he taught them that, As well as making whiskey ; No wonder that the saint himself Should understand distilling. Since his mother kept a shebeen-shop In the town of Enniskillen. 0, was I but so fortunate As to be back in Munster, 'T is I 'd be bound that from that ground I never more would once stir. For there St. Patrick planted turf, And plenty of the praties, With pigs galore, nia gra, ma 'store. And cabbages — and ladies. So, success attend St. Patrick's fist, For he 's a saint so clever; O, he yavc the snakes and toads a twist And bothered them forever! Henry Bennett. Cfje (JTlouti. A CLOUD lay cradled near the setting sun, A gieam of crimson tinged its braided snow ; Long had I watched the glory moving on. O'er the still radiance of the lake below : Tianquil its spirit seemed, and floated slow, E'en in its very motion there was rest, While every breath of eve that chanced to blow, THE BUCKET. 115 Wafted the traveler to the beauteous west. Emblem, methought, of the departed soul, To whose white robe the gleam of bliss is given, And by the breath of mercy made to roll Right onward to the golden gates of heaven, While to the eye of faith it peaceful lies, And tells to man his glorious destinies. John Wilson. €l)e I3urket. How dear to this heart are the scenes of my childhood, When foud recollection presents them to view !— The orchard, the meadow, the deep-tangled wildwood, And every loved spf)t which my infancy knew 1 The wide-spreading pond, and the mill that stood by it; The bridge, and the rock where the cataract fell ; The cot of my father, the dairy-house nigh it ; And e'en the rude bucket that hung in the well — The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket. The moss-covered bucket which hung in the welL That moss-covered vessel 1 hailed as a treasure ; For often at noon, when returned from the field, I found it the source of an exquisite pleasure — The purest and sweetest that nature can yield. How ardent I seized it, with hands that were glowing, And quick to the white-pebbled bottom it fell! Then soon, with the emblem of truth overflowing, And dripping with coolness, it rose from the well — The old oaken l)uckct, the iron-bound bucket. The moss-covered bucket arose from the well. How sweet from the green, mossy brim to receive it, As, poised on the curb, it inclined to my lips I Not a full, blushing goblet could tempt me to leave it^ The brightest that beauty or revelry sips. 1 1 6 SINGLE FAMO US P OEMS. And now, far removed from the loved habitation, The tear of regret vv^ill intrusively svi'ell, As fancy reverts to iny father's plantation, And sighs for the bucket that hangs in the well — The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket. The moss-covered bucket that hangs in the well ! Samuel Wood wok ru. d)e Soul's Befiance. I SAID to sorrow's awful storm, That beat against my breast, Rage on 1 — thou may'st destroy this foi-m. And lay it low at rest ; But still the spirit that now brooks Thy tempest, raging high. Undaunted on its fury looks. With steadfast eye. I said to penury's meagre train. Come on I your threats I brave ; My last poor life-drop you may drain. And crush me to the grave ; Yet still the spirit that endures Shall mock your force the while, And meet each cold, cold grasp of yourfe With bitter smile. I said to cold neglect and scorn, Pass, on I I heed you not ; Ye may pursue me till my form And being are forgot ; Yet still the spirit which you see Undaunted by your wiles. Draws from its own nobility Its high-born smiles. THE MITHERLESS BAIBK 117 I said to friendship's menaced blow, Strike deep ! my heart shall bear ; Thou canst but add one bitter woe To those already there ; Yet still the spirit that sustains This last severe distress, Shall smile upon its keenest pains, And scorn redress. I said to death's uplifted dart, Aim sure ! oh, why delay ? Thou wilt not find a fearful heart — A weak, reluctant prey ; For still the spirit, firm and free, Unruffled by this last dismay, Wrapt in its own eternity, Shall pass away. Lavinia Stoddard. When a' ither bairnies are hushed to their hame By aunty, or cousin, or frecky grand-dame, Wha stands last and lanely, an' naebody carin' ? 'T is the puir doited loonie, — the mitherless bairn. The mitherless bairn gangs to his lane bed ; Nane covers his cauld back, or haps his bare head ; His wfie hackit heelies are hard as the aim, And litheless the lair o' the mitherless bairn. Aneath his cauld brow siccan dreams hover there, O' hands that wont kindly to kame his dark hair; But niornin' brings clutches, a' reckless an' stern, That lo'e nae the locks o' the mitherless bairn. Yon sister that seng o'er his saftly rocked bed Now rests in the mools where her mam; lie is laid , 10* 118 SINGLE FAMOUS POEMS. The father toils sair their wee bannock to earn, An' kens na the wrangs o' his mitherless bairn. Her spirit, that passed in yon hour o' his birth, Still watches his wearisome wanderings on earth ; Recording in heaven the blessings they earn Wha couthilie deal wi' the mitherless bairn. 0, speak him na harshly, — he trembles the while, He bends to your bidding, and blesses your smile ; In their dark hour o' anguish the heartless shall leanr That God deals the blow for the mitherless bairn. William Thom. My life is like the summer rose That opens to the morning sky. But, ere the shades of evening close. Is scattered on the ground — to die 1 Yet on the rose's humble bed The sweetest dews of night are shed, As if she wept the waste to see, — But none shall weep a tear for me I My life is like the autumn leaf That trembles in the moon's pale ray ; Its hold is frail — its date is brief. Restless — and soon to pass away ! Yet, ere that leaf shall fall and fade, The parent tree will mourn its shade, The winds bewail the leafless tree, — But none shall breathe a sigh for me ! My life is Uke the prints which feet Have left on Tampa's desert strand ; Soon as the rising tide shall beat. All trace will vanish from the sand; AFAR IN THE DESERT. 119 Yet, as if grieving to efTace All vestige of the human race, On that lone shore loud moans tliL' sea,— But none, alas 1 shall mourn for me ! Richard Hknry Wilde, afac m ti^e BtmtU Afar in the desert I love to ride. With the silent Bush-boy alone by my side. When the sorrov^^s of life the soul o'ercast. And, sick of the present, I chng to the past; When the eye is suffused with regretful tears. From the fond recollections of former years ; And shadows of things that have long since fled Flit over the brain, like the ghosts of the dead: Bright visions of glory that vanished too soon ; Day-dreams, that departed ere manhood's noon ; Attachments by fate or falsehood reft; Companions of early days lost or left — . ' And my native land — whose magical name Thrills to the heart like electric flame ; The home of my childhood ; the haunts of my prime ; All the passions and scenes of that rapturous time When the feelings were young, and the world was new Like the fresh bowers of Eden unfolding to view ; All — all now forsaken —forgotten — foregone I And I — a lone exile remembered of none — My high aims abandoned, — my good acts undone — Aweary of all that is under the sun — With that sadness of heart which no stranger may scan, I fly to the desert afar from man. Afar in the desert I love to ride, With the silent Bush-boy alone by my side. When the wild turmoil of this wearisome life, With its scenes of oppression, corruption, and strife— 120 SINGLE FAMOUS POEMS. The proud man's frown, and the base man's fear, The scorner's laupfh, and the sufferer's tear, And mahce, and nicaimess, and falsehood, and folly, Di.^pose me to musing and dark melancholy ; When my bosom is full, and my thoughts are high, And my soul is sick with the bondman's sigh, — 0, then there is fre('(lom, and joy, and pride. Afar in the desert alone to ride ! There is rapture to vault on the champing steed. And to bound away with the eagle's speed, With the death-fraught firelock in my hand, — The only law of the Desert Land ! Afar in the desert 1 love to ride. With the silent Bush-boy alone by my side. Away, away from the dwellings of men. By the wild deer's haunt, by the buflalo's glen; By valleys remote wliere the oribi plays. Where tiie gnu, the gazelle, and the hartebeest graze, And the kudu and eland unhunted recline By the skirts of gray forest o'erhung with wild vine; Where tlie elepliJint browses at peace in his wood, And the river-horse gambols unscared in the flood, And the mighty rhinoceros wallows at will In the fen where the wild ass is drinking his fill. Afar in the desert I love to ride. With the silent Bush-boy alone by my side. O'er the brown karroo, where the bleating cry Of the springbok's fawn sounds plaintively ; And the timorous quagga's shrill whistling neigh Is heard by the fountain at twilight gray ; Where tho zebra wantonly tosses his mane, Witi wild hoof scouring the desolate plain ; And the fleet-footed ostrich over the waste Speeds like a horseman who travels in haste, Hieing away to the home of her rest. Where she and her mate have scooped their nest. AFAR IN THE DESERT. ] 2 j Far hid from tlie pitiless plunderer's view In the pathless deptlis of the parched karroo. Afar in the desert I love to ride, With the silent Bush-boy alone by my side, Away, away, in the wilderness vast Where the white man's foot hath never passed, And the quivered Coranna or Bechuan Hath rarely crossed with his roving clan,— A region of emptiness, howling and drear, VVliich man hath abandoned from famine and fear; Which the snake and the lizard inhabit alone, VVith the twilight bat from the yawning stone; Where grass, nor herb, nor shrub takes root. Save poisonous thorns that pierce the foot; ' And the bitter-melon, for food and drink, ' Is the j)ilgrim's fare I)y the salt lake's brink; A region of drought, where no river glides, ' N^or rippling brook with osiered sides; Where sedgy pool, nor bubbling fount. Nor tree, nor cloud, nor misty mount Appears, to refresh the aching eye; But the barren earth and the burning sky, And the blank horizon, round and round, Spread,— void of living sight or sound. And here, while the night-winds round me sigh. And the stars burn bright in the midnight sky, ' As I sit apart by the desert stone. Like Elijah at Iloi-eb's cave, alone, ' A still small voice " comes through the wild (Like a father consoling his fretful child). Which banishes bitterness, wrath, and fear. Saying,— Man is distant, liut God is near! ' Thomas Pringlk. 1 2 2 SINGLE FAMO US P OEMS. Cf)e i3earon. The scene was more beautiful far to the eye, Than if day in its pride had arrayed it: The land-breeze blew mild, and the azure-arched sky Looked pure as the spirit that made it : The murmur rose soft, as I silently gazed On the shadowy waves' playful motion. From the dim distant hill, till the light-house fire blazed Like a star in the midst of the ocean. No longer the joy of the sailor-boy's breast Was heard in his wildly-breathed numbers; The sea-bird had flown to her wave-girdled nest, The fisherman sunk to his slumbers : One moment I looked from the hill's gentle slope, All hushed was the billows' commotion. And o'er them the light-house looked lovely as hope, — That star of life's tremulous ocean. The time is long past, and the scene is afar, Yet when my head rests on its pillow. Will memory sometimes rekindle the star That blazed on the breast of the billow : [n life's closing hour, when the trembling soul flies, And death stills the heart's last emotion ; 0, then may the seraph of mercy arise, Like a star en eternity's ocean ! Paul Moon James fHortalit|). WHY should the spirit of mortal be proud? Like a fast-flitting meteor, a fast-flying cloud, A flash of the lightning, a break of the wave, He passes from life to his rest in the grave. MORTALITY. 123 The leaves of the oak and the willow shall fade, Be scattered around and together be laid ; And the young and the old, and the low and the high, Shat moulder to dust and together shall lie. The child that a mother attended and loved. The mother that infant's affection that proved. The husband that mother and infant that blessed, Each, all, are away to their dwelling of rest. The maid on whose cheek, on whose brow, in whose eye, Shone beauty and pleasure, — her triumphs are by ; And the memory of tliose that beloved her and praised Are alike from the minds of the living ei-ased. The hand of the king that the sceptre hath borne. The brow of the priest that the mitre hath worn, The eye of the sage, and the heart of the brave, Are hidden and lost in the depths of the grave The peasant whose lot was to sow and to reap, The herdsman who climbed with his goats to the steep. The beggar that wandered in search of his bread. Have faded away like the grass that we tread. The saint that enjoyed the communion of heaven. The sinner that dared to remain unforgiven. The wise and the foolish, the guilty and just. Have quietly mingled their bones in the dust. So the multitude goes, like the flower and the weed That wither away to let others succeed ; Sc the multitude comes, even those we behold. To repeat every tale that hath often been told. For we are the same that our fathers have been ; We see the same sights that our fathers have seen, — We drink the same stream, and we feel the same sun. And we run the same course that our fathers have run. 124 SINGLE FAMO US P OEMS. The thoughts we are thinking, our fathers would think ; From the death we are shrinking from, tliey too would shrink ; To the life we are clinging to, they too would cling; But it speeds, from the earth like a bird on the wing. They loved, but their story we cannot unfold ; They scorned, but the heart of the haughty is cold ; They grieved, but no wail from their slumbers may come ; They joyed, but the voice of their gladness is dumb. They died, ay ! they died I and we things that are now, Who walk on the turf that lies over their brow, Who make in their dwellings a transient abode, Meet the changes they met on their pilgrimage road. Yea I hope and despondence, and pleasure and pain, Are mingled together like sunshine and rain ; And the smile and the tear, and the song and the dirge, Still follow each other, like surge upon surge. 'T is the wink of an eye, 't is the draught of a breath, From the blossom of health to the paleness of death, From the gilded saloon to the bier and the shroud, — why should the spirit of mortal be proud ? William Knox. "Yotr have heard," said a youth to his sweetheart, whc stood While h3 sat on a corn-sheaf, a-t daylight's decline, — '* You have heard of the Danish boy's whistle of wood : I wish that the Danish boy's whistle were mine." ' And what would you do with it? Tell me," she said, While an arch smile played over her beautiful face. WE'LL 00 TO SEA \U MOliK i ■_>.«= "I would blow it," he answered, " and then my fair raaid Would fly to my side and would there lake her place." " Is that all you wish for? Why, that may be yours Without any magic 1 " the fair maiden cried : " A favor so slight one's good-nature secures ; " And she playfully seated herself by his side. " I would blow it again," said the youth ; " and the chanii Would work so that not even modesty's check Would be able to keep from my neck your white arm." She smiled and she laid her white arm round his neck. " yet once more I would blow ; and the music divine Would bring me a third time an exquisite bliss, — You would lay your fair cheek to this brown one of mine And your lips stealing past it would give me a kiss." The maiden laughed out in her innocent glee, — " What a fool of yourself with tlie whistle you 'd make I For only consider how silly 't would be To sit there and whistle for what you might take." Robert Story. mSit 'U ®o to ^ea no iWoce. 0, BLITHELY shines the bonny sun Upon tlie Isle of May, And blithely comes the morning tide Into St. Andrew's Bay. Then up, gudeinan, the breeze is fair, And up, my braw l)aims three ; There 's goud in yonder bonny boat That sails sae wee! the sea ! When haddocks leave the Firth o' Forth, An' mussels leave the shore, 126 SINGLE FAMOUS POEMS. When oysters climb up Berwick Law, We '11 go to sea no more, — No more, We '11 go to sea no more. I 've*seen the waves as blue as air, I 've seen them green as grass ; But 1 never feared their heaving yet, From Grangemouth to the Bass. I 've seen the sea as black as pitch, I 've seen it white as snow ; But I never feared its foaming yet, Though the winds blew high or low. When squalls capsize our wooden walls, When the French ride at the Nore, When Leith meets Aberdour half way. We '11 go to sea no more, — No more. We '11 go to sea no more. I never liked the landsman's life. The earth is aye the same ; Gie me the ocean for my dower. My vessel for my hame. Gie me the fields that no man plows. The farm that pays no fee ; Gie me the bonny fish that glance So gladly through the sea. When sails hang flapping on the masts While through the waves we snore, When in a calm we 're tempest-tossed, We '11 go to sea no more, — No more, We '11 go to sea no more. The sun is up, and round Inchkeitb The breezes softly blaw ; OEEEALK 12*< The gudeman has the lines on board, — Awa, my bairns, awa ! An' ye be back by gloamin' gray, An' bright the fire will low, An' in your tales and sangs we '11 tell How weel the boat ye row. When life's last sun gaes feebly down, An' death comes to our door, When a' the world "s a dream to us. We '11 go to sea no more, — No more, We '11 go to sea no more. Miss Corbett. TiiK blackbird is singing on Michigan's shore, As sweetly and gayly as ever before ; For he knows to liis mate he at pleasure can hie, And the dear little brood she is teaching to fly. The sun looks as ruddy, and rises as bright, And reflects o'er the mountains as beamy a light As it ever reflected, or ever expressed, When my skies were the bluest, my di-eams were the best The fox and the panther, both beasts of the night, Retire to their dens on the gleaming of Ught, And they spring with a free and a sorrowless track, For they know that their mates are expecting them back. Each bird and each beast, it is blessed in degree; All nature is cheerful, all happy, but me. 1 will go to my tent, and lie down in despair; I will paint me witli bia(;k, and will sever my hairj I will sit on the shore wiiere tlic hurricane blows, And reveal to the god of the tempest my woes; I will weep for a season, on bitterness fed, For my kicdred are gone to the hills of the dead; 1 2 8 SINGLE FAMO US P OEMS. But they died not hj hunger, or Ungering decay — The steel of the white man hath swept them away. This snake-skin, that once I so sacredly wore, I will toss with disdain to the storm-beaten shore ; Its charms I rto longer obey or invoke. Its spirit hath left n>e, its spell is now broke. I will raise up my \ oice to the source of the light ; I will dream on the wings of the blue-bird at night ; 1 will speak to the spirits that whisper in leaves, And that minister balm to the bosom that grieves; And will take a new Manito, such as shall seem To be kind and propitious in every dream. 0, then I shall banish these cankering sighs. And tears shall no longer gush salt from my eyes ; I sliall wash from my face every cloud-colored stain ; Red, red shall alone on my visage remain I I will dig up my hatchet, and bend my oak bow; By night and by day I will follow the foe ; Nor lakes shall impede me, nor mountains, nor snows; Hiy blood can alone give my spirit repose. They came to my cabin when heaven was black ; I heard not their coming, I knew not their track ; But I saw, by the light of their blazing fusees, They were people engendered beyond the big seas. My wife and my children — 0, spare me the tale ! For who is there left that is kin to Geehale ? Henry Rowe Schoolcraft $ a^aoulti not ILibe 2llb)ag. I WOULD not Uve alway : I ask not to stay Where storm after storm rises dark o'er the way ; Where, seeking for rest, I but hover around Like the patriarch's bird, and no resting is found ; / WOULD NOT LIVE ALWAY. 129 Where Hope, when she paints her gay bow in the air, Leaves her brilliance to fade in the night of despair. And Joy's Meeting angel ne'er sheds a glad ray, Save the gleam of the plumage that bears him away. I would not live alway, thus fettered by sin, Temptation without, and corruption within; In a moment of strength if I sever the chain, Scarce the victory 's mine ere I 'm captive again. E'en the rapture of pardon is mingled with fears. And the cup of thanksgiving with penitent tears. The festival trump calls for jubilant songs. But my spirit her own miserere prolongs. I would not live alway: no, welcome the tomb; Immortality's lamp burns there bright 'mid the gloom. There too is the pillow where Christ bowed his head— O, soft be my slumbers on that holy bed ! And then the glad morn soon to follow that night, When the sunrise of glory shall burst on my sight. And the full matin-song, as the sleepers arise To shout in the morning, shall peal through the skies. Who, who would live alway, away from his God, Away from yon heaven, that blissful abode, Where rivers of pleasure flow o'er the bright plains, And the noontide of glory eternally reigns; Where the saints of all ages in harmony meet, Their Saviour and brethren transported to greet, While the anthems of rapture unceasingly roll. And the smile of the Lord is the feast of the soul 7 That neavenly music I what is it I hear ? The notes of the harpers ring sweet on my ear. And see soft unfolding those portals of gold, The King all arrayed in his beauty behold I 11* 1 30 SINGLE FAMO US P OEMS. O ;j;ive me, give me the wings of a dove ! ]>ut me hasten my flight to those mansions above. Ay, 't is now that my soul on swift pinions would soar. And in ecstasy bid earth adieu evermore. William Augustus Muhlenberg. ?Lmes asan'tten in a arturrt^garti. "It is good for us to be here. If thou wilt, let us make here three tabernacles ; one for thee, oae for Moses, and one for Elias." Methinks it is good to be here ; If thou wilt, let us build — but for whom ? Nor Elias nor Moses appear ; But the shadows of eve that encompass with gloom The abode of the dead and the place of the tomb. Shall we build to Ambition? Ah nol Affiighted he shrinketh away; For see, they would pen him below In a small narrow cave and begirt with cold clay, To the meanest of reptiles a peer and a prey. To Beauty ? Ah no ! she forgets The charms which she wielded before ; Nor knows the foul worm that he frets The skin which but yesterday fools could adore, For the smoothness it held, or the tint which it wore. Shall we build to the purple of pride ? To the trappings which dizen the proud ? Alas ! they are all laid aside, And here 's neither dress nor adornment allowed, But the long winding-sheet, and the fringe of the shroud To Riches ? Alas, 't is in vain I Who hid, in their turns have been hid : The treasures are squandered again ; THE MARINERS DREAM. 131 And here in the grave are all metals forbid, But the tinsel that shines on tlie dark coffin-lid. To the pleasures which Mirth can aflbrd, The revel, the laugh, and the jeer ? Ah! here is a plentiful board! B-it the guests are all mute as their pitiful cheer, And none but the worm is a reveler liere. Shall we build to Afiiection and Love ? Ah no ! they liave withered and died. Or lied with the spirit above. Friends, brothers, and sisters are laid side by side, Yet none have saluted, and none have replied. Unto Sorrow ? — the dead cannot grieve ; Not a sob, not a sigh meets mine ear, Whicli compassion itself could relieve. Ah, sweetly they shnnljer, nor love, hope, or fear; Peace, peace is the watchword, the only one here. Unto Death, to whom monarchs must bow ? Ah no ! for his empire is known, And here there are trophies enow ! Beneath, the cold dead, and around, the dark stone, Ar3 the signs of a sceptre that none may dioown. The first tabernacle to Hope we will build, And look for the sleepers around us to rise ; The second to Faith, that insures it fulfilled; And the third to the Lamb of the great sacrifice, Who bequeathed us tliem both when he rose to the skiea Herbert Knowles. €^t)P iiflai;iner'0 IBream. In slumbers of midnight the sailor-boy lay; His hammock swung loose at the sport of the wind; 1 32 SINGLE FAMO US P OEMS. But watch-woni and weary, his cares flew away, And visions of happiness danced o'er his mind. Be dreamt of his home, of his dear native bowers, And pleasures tliat waited on life's merry morn ; While memory stood sideways half covered with fif: