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 OF THE 
 
 l^ffifE^ pOEjaS 
 
 or 
 
 I^aai^ ^. Julian, 
 
 SAN MARCOS, TEX.AS. 
 
 PRINTED FOR THE AUTHOR. 
 
 1903 
 
SAMPLES 
 
 OF THE 
 
 BRIEFER' POEMS 
 
 OP 
 
 IvSAAC H. JULIAX 
 
 J » » * t 
 
 RAX M ARC05S. TKXAS. 
 I»RlXTEn rOR THE AtTTHOR. 
 

 THE LIBRARY OF 
 CONGRESS, 
 
 Two Copies Received 
 
 aMH 19 1903 
 
 \1 Copyright tntry 
 
 CLASS 0^ XXo. No 
 
 Is "L S- 1 h 
 COPY B. 
 
 Copyright, 1903 
 By Isaac H. Julian. 
 
,^ 
 
 
 ^i 
 
 It is proper to explain, that the accompanying^ collec- 
 tion of poems constitutes but a small part of the rhythmic 
 compositions of the author- Thev are here presented as 
 s.'uiipies of his work, chief!} for private circulation; not as 
 the best, or most important, but as exemplifying various 
 themes and styles; and more especially as the possible pre- 
 lude and forerunner of a more complete edition, in perma- 
 nent form. It will be observed that they all date back to 
 his boyhood and youth, prior to his engagement on an al- 
 most life-long service on the newspaper treadmill, under 
 conditions which precluded further purely literary labors 
 and recreations. 
 
 It was at first contemplated to include herewith also 
 some samples of the author's prose writings during the same 
 period; but it was not deemed necessary. They may, how- 
 ever, form a part of the more complete publication above 
 suggested, if it should be favored to materialize. 
 
 — May 19, 1903. . 
 
®ontjent!S* 
 
 Invocation. 
 
 The Happiest Land, ^ 
 
 Thoughts in Spring, 2 
 
 Woodmau's Song, - 3 
 
 To a White Walnut Tree at a District School-hi>use. 4- 
 
 On Inadvertently Deadening an Old Elm 5 
 
 "All is Vanity," 7 
 
 Eyes of Love, ^ 
 
 Lines Suggested by an Election, 9. 
 
 The Choicest lioon of Heaven, 10. 
 
 To the Evening Star, n 
 
 Dirge of a Rustic Bard, -- 13: 
 
 J^abok:— Its Bank and Bights, 14. 
 
 ''Liberty, Equality, Fraternity, ' 17 
 
 The Deserted House, 17 
 
 To Thomas H. Benton, - 19- 
 
 To a Doughface U. S. Senator, 19. 
 
 The Peoples Heart, 20. 
 
 "In His Name Shall the Gentiles Trust,' 21 
 
 Indian Summer in the West, 22 
 
 Free Soil Ratification Song, 23. 
 
 INVOCATION: — Democracy, - 24 
 
 Our True Pacific Line 25 
 
 The House Where I Was Born, 27 
 
 The Laureate of the Press, 29 
 
 Maple Sugar Memories, 31 
 
 "When the Roses Come Again,"- 33 
 
 In Lighter Vein^ 35 
 
 Passages Frojm. Other. Poems,. .- •: 37 
 
[xi:iQvmf:ilfxt^^U 
 
 A few words introductory to the author of the poems herewith 
 presented may be deemed not inappropriate, I^^nac H. Julian was 
 born near Ceuterville, Wayne county, Indiana, June 19, 1823. His 
 parents, Isaac Julian and Rebecca (Hoover) Julian, respectively of 
 French and German descent, (intermingled on the father s side with 
 Scotch and English, the former predominating), represented an ances- 
 try now over two hundied years established in America, who at var- 
 ious periods, were residents of Pennsylvania, Maryland, Virginia and 
 North Carolina. Prior to their marriage, his parents, who were both 
 natives of Randolph county, in tlie state last named, removed, with 
 their parents, near the beginning of the nineteenth century, to Indiana 
 Territory, near the site of the present city of Richmond, with wh^se 
 beginnings both families were closeK identified. His gi-andparents 
 were members of the Society of Friends. His father died when the 
 subject of this notice was but six months old. He wasbrnuo;ht upon 
 a small farm, alternating mental with manual labor. He was partial- 
 ly educated in the district schools of that day, but was chiefly self-ed- 
 ucated, through a rather exteu'^ive course of reading. He bi-gan writ- 
 ing for the press in his boyhood. At his majority he removed to Iowa, 
 where he pioneered it during several vears. during which period he 
 bought of Uncle Sam a quarter section of land, which he partially im- 
 proved. Returning to Indiana in 1850, he studied law and was ad- 
 mitted to the practice, but his literary tastes predominating, he did 
 not long conti.me in it 10,1858 he began the publication of the 
 ''True Republican" at Centerville, continuing it at Richmond, four- 
 teen years in all. In 1859 he was married to Virgii:^ M. Spillard, of 
 College Hill, Ohio. In 187.^, because of the failing health of his wife, 
 he removed to San Marcos, Texas, where she soon after died, leaying 
 a family of young children to hi^^ charge. Resuming his vocation of 
 journalist, he established the ^'San Marcos Free Press," continuing 
 its publication during seventeen years. His last newspaper enterprise 
 was "The People's Era," from which be retired in July, 1900, having 
 been an editorial writer for half a century, and both editor and pnb- 
 li«^her of newspapers during forty years. The advocacy of political 
 and social reform has been his life-v>7ork from boyhood to old age. He 
 continues to make his home at San Marcos, Texas, where he is em- 
 ploying his retirement in his favorite literary pursuits. 
 
Unicxoc^tio 
 
 n 
 
 TO THE GENIUS OF THE WEST. 
 
 Genius of " iuy ozvn^ my native lancf^ ! 
 
 Majesiic^ glorious presence of my drea?ns I 
 
 1 own the impulse of thy guidifig hand^ 
 
 I Iiail the light upon thy brow that gleams, 
 Dear and familiar as the sun^s bright beams! 
 
 For tliou didst smile upon my lifers first dawn^ 
 A child ^ lone tvajtderifig by thy woodland streams, — 
 
 Far from the vain and noisy croxvd luithdrawn^ — 
 Thy favor in o gla?ice didst mark and seal me as thine own 
 
 Thmi bad^st me tune with joy 7ny rustic reed^ 
 
 While smiling Love and Fancy led the strain; 
 A nd first my willing voice, as thou decreed, 
 
 Essayed to sing the glories of thy reigrn. 
 Since, wandering wide out o'^er iJiy broad domain, 
 
 TJiy przsence still has cheered me on my way ; 
 Aiid ''mid those vaster scenes, did^st tlwu aoxiin 
 
 Inspire a higher and a sadder lay 
 Than that of sportive Love, to crozun my manhoad^s day ; — 
 
 A lay of- Truth, inscribed unto my kind. 
 
 Their joys and griefs, their liberties and zvrongs; 
 The spirit that zvould every chain unbind, 
 
 By thee invoked, inspired my later songs 
 With stern rebuke of lying pens and ton o ties. 
 
 O still be with me^ Genius of the West! 
 And grant the boon for which my spirit lonps,- — 
 
 To weave t!ie verse, which thou shall deem the best, 
 Ere ''neatJi my natal soil I peaceful pass to rest ! 
 
POEMS. 
 
 THE HAPPIEST LAND. 
 
 How oft have 1 sighed for some fair- blooming isle, 
 
 Beneath the I'^iild temperate sun, 
 Where he sinks in the west, with a liugeriao^ smile, 
 
 Rejoiced his day's journey is done; 
 Where Ocean's bland breezes still freshen the air, 
 
 Where every sweet floweret blow*, 
 With all the wide landscape, surpassingly fair, 
 
 Lapped in Nature's benignant repose! 
 
 And there, far rethed from the world's heartless scorn, 
 
 With a maid cast in Nature's own mould, 
 Hail each roseate eve, and balm -breathing morn, 
 
 With pleasure — with rapture untold! 
 — How empty those thoughts, and how idle those dreams! 
 
 Look around thee, vain mortal! and see 
 The verdure-clad valleys — the glorious streams — 
 
 Which gem the broad Land of the Free! 
 
 Behold all the treasures ot Nature bestowed 
 
 On the land where thou makest thy home, — 
 T)ien turn if thou can, from thy peerless abode, 
 
 Afar from thy country to roam! 
 Ay, search every nook of the wide-peopled earth, — 
 
 Explore it through every zone, — 
 'J'hen confess to the worth of the land of thy birth, — 
 
 That the Happiest Land is thine own! 
 
 —Ohio Valley, 1839. 
 
THOUGHTS IN SPRING. 
 
 Free from the traiu of weary caie 
 
 That throngs thy path, vain mortal man! 
 How sweet to breathe the balmy air, 
 
 And form the mind to Nature's plan! 
 
 How strange that men in crowds should dwell, 
 Mid toil, and care, and filth, and strife, 
 
 While ev'ry peaceful hill and dell, 
 
 With beauty fraught, invites the life! 
 
 How sweet to hail the rising dawn, 
 
 Amid the scented herbs aud flowers — 
 
 To tread the dew-bespangled lawn, 
 
 Or roam the wild-wood's secret bowers! 
 
 Or when the day draws to its close, 
 
 And shadows stretch athwart the plain, 
 
 How sweet, amid the world's repose, 
 To listen to the night-bird's strain! 
 
 When the broad sun, his journey done, 
 
 Smiles grandly ere his disc sink down, 
 
 While the wide circle which he run 
 
 Glows like a seraph's flamina: crown! 
 
 How passing sweet, when night falls round, 
 
 To roam beneath the cloudless sky- 
 To gaze on earth, in silence bound, 
 
 Or lift to heaven the thoughtful eye! 
 
 Upon the stillness of this hour, 
 
 The coolness of this woodland shade, 
 
 No angry clouds of passion lower, 
 
 No evil thoughts the soul invade. 
 
 And, O, could wishes form the heart. 
 Or mark the course of future years, 
 
 I would not from the scene depart, 
 For all that folly hopes or fears. 
 
 —1839- 
 
WOODMAN'S SONG. 
 
 The blast sweeps round o'er the frozen ground, 
 
 And the hoar-frost glitters in the sun — 
 But I must away, in the forest to stay, 
 
 Till the night comes on, and my toils are done; 
 Till the night comes on, through whose lowering gloom, 
 My lattice shall lighten and welcom':; me home. 
 
 The tempest's dread scowl appals not my soul, 
 
 The chill piercing winds but brace up my frame, 
 
 I scorn the base slave whose heart dares not brave 
 
 Those voices which speak the Omnipotent's name. 
 
 Oh! neyer may 1, till my heart's pulses cease, 
 
 Be unmindful of Nature, though frowning her face! 
 
 When the bright sun again shall spread life o'er the plain, 
 I'll hail his warm beams with ecstatic delight; 
 
 Then the clustering vine o er my threshold shall twine, 
 And high in tne air the gay lark take his flight; 
 
 The bland breath of heaven shnll scent the sweet spot, 
 
 And peace a d ont-ntment shall hallow my cot. 
 
 Contentment and peace, — perfection of bliss! 
 
 Oh! give me to rest in your tranquil embrace! 
 True honor and worth are forgot upon earth — 
 
 I ask not a part with man's pitiful race, 
 But give me, aloof from the base throng to rove, 
 Secure from the snare which corruption hath wove! 
 
 December, 1840. 
 
TO A WHITE WALNUT TREE AT A DISTRICT 
 SCHOOL HOUSE. 
 
 Compossd on revisiting the seen- describ3d in the p-)ein. What s-^me writer charact- 
 erizes as "the first despair of youth"— so piofoundy earnest, yet wondrously exaggerated 
 — is well exemplified m the 4th and 5th stanzas. 
 
 Shrine of departed hopes, and loves, and joys! 
 
 I seek, in pensive rapture, thy retreat, — 
 Though the vi^ind winstles through thy naked bougbs, 
 
 And the green earth congeals beneath my feet; 
 Yet thou wast once of mirthful joy the seat, 
 
 Of airy bliss, that never dreamed of care, — 
 And I do love thy broken shadow yet, 
 
 Where erst in childhood's glee I did repair. 
 To seek those joys which I no rafore on earth shall share. 
 
 How sweet, O Memory, is thy fairy reign. 
 
 Where dwell the hopes and pleasures of the past! 
 The first to cheer us through a life of pam, 
 
 And oh! our dearest solac@ at the last! 
 As on this spot around my eyes I cast, 
 
 How do 1 feel thine influence abound! 
 Long months and years have flown away, how fa^t, 
 
 Since, with my early schoolmates sporting round, 
 I lived to mirth and joy on this sequestered ground. 
 
 Even now, methinks, I see that joyous baud 
 
 Thronging around yon humble mansion's door, 
 And fondly joined in heait, as hand in hand, 
 
 Commingled high and low, and rich and poor; 
 How blest were man coul4 childhood's joys endure! 
 
 Ere our young hopes have known one cruel blight, 
 Ere innocence and truth have lobt their po^er. 
 
 When wealth entices not, nor vices fright, — 
 Heaven's joys alone, I deem, afford so pure delight! 
 
 Oh ! could I see the hours I once have seen, 
 
 When the wild laughim? brook was not more free! 
 Still, still those fairy memories intervene. 
 
 Like isles of bliss amid the wasteful sea. 
 Those scenes are past — and never more to me 
 
 Shall life in all its freshness bloom again, — 
 Withered and blighted, like thy boughs, Old Tree, 
 
 Surcharged with care and grief, remorse and pain, 
 The wreck of what I was, like thee, I shall remain! 
 
But tn ibe gloomy future's dis mal face 
 
 Oue ray of ^^lad delight I yet can view, — 
 'Tis that past joys I fondly can retrace, 
 
 And from their urn my waning hopes renew; 
 'Tis, that though raiserv may pierce me tfiroagh, — 
 
 Though fortune, friends, and all but Nature frown — 
 I still can feel my young friends once were true, 
 
 And muse with pleasure on the joys I've known, — 
 Though doomed to roam the earth, in wretchedness, alone. 
 
 Returning spring will deck thy boughs again, 
 
 And childhood's sports will pass beneath thy shade; 
 Long mayest thou bloom, when he who tunes this st.iain 
 
 Shall cold "upon the lap of earth'' be laid! 
 Long mayest thou bloom! a'nd may hi« best hopes fade. 
 
 Even as thy withered leaves and blighted boughs, 
 Who dares to wound thy trunk, yet undecaved. 
 
 Or lop the branch in faded pride that grows. — 
 Hmblem ot life and deatli, — of human joys aud woes! 
 
 — January, 1841. 
 
 ON INADVERTENTLY DEADENING AN OLD ELM. 
 
 The incident which suggested the following poem oecurred In April, 1841. The author 
 while engaged in clearing the adjacent grounds, set fire to a slight brush heap around the 
 tree at its root, not anticipating that it would damage it; but it proved its destruction. The 
 poem was written in November following. 
 
 Oh! once the unbroken forest's pride, 
 
 And late the beauty of the plain! 
 How doth thy fallen state deride 
 
 The glory of thy lengthened reign! 
 Thy blackened trunk and faded leaves 
 
 Proclaim thy bloom forever fled, 
 And through thy boughs the low wind grieves, 
 
 And sighs around thy aged head! 
 
 Unnumbered years have passed away, 
 
 Since, rising from the earth's warm bed, 
 
 And sheltered from Sol's burning ray, 
 
 Thou here thy infant branches spread; 
 
 'Mid woody glades, and coverts green, 
 iA nd clinging clusters of the vine, 
 
 Where, o'er the streamlet's bed serene, 
 The leafy boughs, commingled, join. 
 
Vast wilderness of shades and flowers, 
 
 How sweet to roani thy bo'^oni then! 
 To muse away the peaceful houis, 
 
 Far from the busy haunts of men! 
 /i^^*^ The mific torrent's murmuring swell 
 
 Then woke the forest slumbering by, 
 And rang out o'er this quiet dell 
 
 The wild bird's answering note of joy! 
 
 Then proud the forest monarch rose, 
 
 With all his fair attendant train, 
 Fresh as the morning bud that blows — 
 
 Thick as a Hoosier harvest plain! 
 Alas, for Nature's lovely prime! 
 
 Of all thy peers, nont now remain; 
 The woodman's axe, the hand of time, 
 
 Have strewed them on the dusty plain! 
 
 L^ong hast thou reared thy ag'id torm 
 In melancholy pride alone, 
 
 Braving the fury of the stcjrm, 
 
 Or echoing the breezes' tone; 
 
 Full often hath the rustic made 
 
 Beneath thy shade his grassy seat. 
 
 And oft the feathered tribes have fltd, 
 
 At noontide, to thy green retreat. 
 
 And I, in childhood's hour, have played, 
 
 In early dreams enraptuied deep, 
 Sported beneath thy cooling shade, 
 
 Or, peaceful, laid me down to sleep; 
 And has my reckless, wanton hand 
 
 Blasted thy age enduring form? 
 And doth my heedless purpose stand 
 
 Vore potent than the raging storm? 
 
 'Tis thus that generous Worth survives 
 
 Misfortune's chill and piercing blast. 
 Till, while with fate he nobly strives, 
 
 Detraction's darts sink him at last, 
 And thus, full oft, the heedless wight 
 
 inflicts a wound time ne'er can heal; 
 jPiunges his soul in deep regret. 
 
 And feels — what he makes others feel. 
 
Old Tree! thy glory now is o'er; 
 
 I see thy sapless brauches cast 
 All naked to the tempest's roar, 
 
 And bending in the wintry blast: 
 O as I setk the haunts of youth, 
 
 And vievs^ the ruin I have made, 
 May lessons deep, ot conscious truth. 
 
 Be to my listening heart conveyed! 
 
 ''ALL IS VANITY 
 
 'Tis all in vain that pleasure,gilds 
 The mornino^ of life's vernal day; 
 
 Like sunlight on the waving fields, 
 
 That, slowly lingering, melts away, 
 
 The hopes and pleasures all depart. 
 
 That thrill with joy the youthful heart. 
 
 'Tis all in vain the laurel wreath 
 
 Rests proudly on man's lolty brow; 
 
 Beneath the icy touch of Death 
 
 Full soon his beauty slumbers low, 
 
 And all the splendor fame e'er gave 
 
 Can never gild the silent grave. 
 
 'Tis all in vain the great, the gay. 
 
 Pursue the toys of wealth and power — 
 
 Trifling eternity away 
 
 In fleetius: visions of an hour! 
 
 Is pride an offering meet for heaven? 
 
 Then may they hope to be forgiven! 
 
 'Tis all in vain that Folly rears 
 
 The cenotaph of pride and fame; 
 
 The ceaseless round of wasteful years 
 Mars even eternal Nature's frame; 
 
 And shall an earth-born worm aspire, 
 
 Where mountains stoop, and seas retire.? 
 
 In vain are all our griefs and cares — 
 
 In vain our joys, our hopes, and fears; 
 
 Amid our life's ten thousand snares 
 We lose the swiftly fleeting years, 
 
 Pass our brief span in woe and gloom, 
 
 Then sleep, forgotten, in the tomb. 
 
All things ;ire vain but fearing G)d, 
 
 And doing all his holy will; 
 Then let us l^iss the chastening rod_^ 
 
 And trust in him for mercy still; 
 Secure that, 'neath his ri.2:hteous reign, 
 We live and suffer, not in vain. 
 
 February, 1842. 
 
 EYES OF I.OVE. 
 
 '"Soft eyes looked love to eyjs which spake again." — Byron 
 
 Oh, there are felt affections sweet 
 
 b\ill many in this scene of care; 
 There's bliss where friends ot childhood meet, 
 
 And fancy's early dreams are fair; 
 There's rapture in the trump of Fame, 
 
 Tliere':^ pride where conquering armies move- 
 But vain their sway beneath the flange 
 
 That sparkles bright in eyes of love! 
 
 The earth is beautiful and gray, 
 
 Yon firmament is grand an 1 bright. 
 Sweet are the beams of early day, 
 
 And blest the watches of the night; 
 But nature's every boundless charm 
 
 Hath never yet, con mingled, wove 
 A spell th,e heart to melt and warm, 
 
 Like the etherial glance ot love. 
 
 Tell not the bard a form like this 
 
 Hath not a spirit dwelling there — 
 Say not, that hopes of future bliss 
 
 Are bubbles fleet of painted air! 
 No! beautiful and clothed in light — 
 
 Fadeless as heaven's own vault above — • 
 The soul's supernal in^uence bright 
 
 Dwells in the blessed eyes of love! 
 
 Far be from me those looks of hate 
 
 That freeze the current of the heart, — 
 
 Fell as the damned spirit's fate — 
 
 Fierce as the lived lightning's dart! 
 
 But, oh, while life shall heave my breast, 
 
Where'er I rest, where'er I rove, 
 I care not, Heaven! to be more blest 
 Thau m the conscious eyes of love! 
 1842. 
 
 I.rNj:S SUGGESTED BV^ AN ELECTIOX. 
 
 What means this gatherin,2^ of h amble men, 
 From the lone hamlet, an J the quiet vale? 
 
 Hath War's harsh trump avvoke the woodland glen, 
 And (loth this tumult speak the dreadful tale? 
 
 And are deserted shops and schools the token 
 
 That the bright, silken bonds of Peace are broken? 
 
 Or hath Oppression — iron-sceptred power! — 
 Lashed to resistance the free soul ot rnan? 
 
 Or brainless, brutal nub, with deathlul dower 
 Of all the evils crowded in life's S[)an, 
 
 Cast its fell plagues upon the startled air, 
 
 Engendering hydra forms oi dark despair? 
 
 Or-have the dwellers on Columbia'^ soil — 
 Who daily toil together side by side, — 
 
 Come forth to yield themselves a conqueror's spoil? 
 Or gaze with reverence on kingly pride? 
 
 And, all unmindful of their equal worth, 
 
 Tu bow the knee to a poor worm of earth? 
 
 No!— 'neath the flag of Freedom, tairly streaming 
 In brilliant g'ory toward the azure heaven. 
 
 The sun — God's blessed emblem!— now is beaming 
 On meu, to whom the pride of Man is given— 
 
 2'o know no lord in earth or heaven, nave Him, 
 
 At whose draad name all earthly pomp groiVAliml S 
 
 I^one dweller in the twilight of the Past! 
 
 Pilgrim 'mid ruined domes and fallea fanes! 
 Mourning the mighty wreck which time hath cast — 
 
 The shade of earthly glory thrc rem 'ins, -- 
 From the dim regions of piiaievil night. 
 Exalt thy gaze to scenes of Piomise bright! 
 
 Thou, who hast wept the faded pride of earth* 
 
 Thou, who has melted o'er her history; 
 And marked the stars thac sang upon her birth 
 
10 
 
 Dim ill the twilight of her long deca} , 
 Behold! revivifying Freedom's sua 
 Proclaims Oppression's mad career is stinl 
 
 What read we in the pages of the past 
 
 But the vain triumphs of barbaric pride? 
 
 Lone "Tadmor's marble wastes" this lesson cast 
 On Time's remorseless, swiftly-rolling tide, -- 
 
 And Rome and Athens' sepulchred renown 
 
 In awful tones of death still speak h down! 
 
 The course of Empires and States of old 
 Has only changed the theatre of woe; 
 
 Successive conquests over earth have rolled, 
 
 But Man, the lord of earth, did never know 
 
 His inborn rights. All hail the glorio >s day 
 
 That swept the shades of ignorance away? 
 
 We have the page of Knowledge to iniorm, 
 
 We have thy light, Reho^ion! to illa:ne,— 
 
 And in the shelter of our God\s ri2rht arm — 
 
 'Neath which the fiendish hosts ot hell coasume- 
 
 To the bright goal of Liberty we move, 
 
 In the firm brotherhood of Peace and L-^ve! 
 
 Yes! while Man's soul shall keep its native toue, 
 
 And thrill to Freedom's heaven-breathing strain- 
 Though other lauds 'neath fell oppression groan, 
 
 And wretched hours still swell to days of pain, — 
 Bright o'er the gloom Columbia's beacon- light 
 Shall gleam, to guide the wandering world aright! 
 
 — August, 1843- /i^' 
 
 /^^.</w 
 
 NOTR— The sentiments above expressed —the faith in (he grand destiny of of our coun- 
 try in spite of its various shortcomin^>A-\vere most devoutly cherished by the author down 
 4o 1898-, when the shameless practicjyrepudiation by the administration of the great vital 
 principles upon 'Wtert- our government was founded, produced a most meloncholy eclipse of 
 that faith, and the conviction that we have hopelessly started on the downward course of 
 the perished states and empires ot t lie past — a conviction which our subsequent political 
 history has only tended to contirra. 
 
 'THE CHOICEST BOON OF HEAVEN.' 
 
 O, life has hopes and joys, 
 
 And life has griefs and fears, 
 
 Which gild or cloud our sky 
 
 Through distant coming years.- 
 
n 
 
 One skriuks aghast, bowed down 
 At the slightest touch of woe; 
 
 If a cloud obscuie the suu, 
 
 He sinks to shades below! 
 
 In an atmosphere of grief 
 
 He shrouds his morbid soul, 
 
 As the sottish drunkard quaffs 
 The poison of the bowl. 
 
 Another breasts the wave 
 
 vVtieu tempests loudest roar; 
 
 He laughs at woe and death 
 
 As he tells his dangers o'er. 
 
 'Jo the vengeful darts of fate 
 
 He bares his dauntle^-s breast; 
 
 As the miehtv mammoth shook 
 
 The lightnings from his crest, ^ 
 
 It is the mind alone 
 
 Can gUd the dreary night, 
 Or veil in deepest gloom 
 
 The cheertul morning light. 
 
 O, be it mine io share 
 
 The best gift to mankind — 
 The choicest boon of Heaven — 
 
 Integrity of mind. 
 
 To see things as they are, 
 
 Unappalled by shadows vain; 
 
 To act a manly part, 
 
 Despite of woe and pain. 
 
 To strive while hope extends 
 
 A solitary ray; 
 
 To be resigned when Heaven 
 
 Shall close life's transient day! 
 J* ... . 
 
 Refers to the picturesque Indian tiaditinn, to be found in Jefferson's ''Notes on Tir- 
 ginia," pp. 55-56. 
 
 —April, 1844. 
 
 TO THE EVENING STAR. 
 
 Composed under severe pressure of despt)ndent feelings and general mental gulfering. 
 
 Natal star of love, 
 
 And those that love the shadowy hour of fancy, 
 How much I owe thee! Jtiow 1 bless thy ray ! 
 
 — Hillhousc. 
 
 Bright Star of Evening! blessed be thy ray, 
 
 And hallowed each remembrance thou dost bring! 
 Thou comest ou the car of closing day - 
 
12 
 
 Like incense wafted on the zephyr's wing; 
 Thou comest, while v»7eary men their labors cease. 
 Attuning all the soul to love and peace. 
 
 Oft have I gazed on thee, as now I gaze, 
 
 'Mid the dim beauty oi the twilight hour, 
 
 Unmindtul of the world's unworthy ways» 
 
 Holding high converse with celestial ][x>wer. 
 
 And cherishing, amid a scene like this, 
 
 The soul-inspiring hope of future bliss. 
 
 Isle of the blest! upon thy radiant shore 
 
 Are there not forms of beauty and o^ love> 
 
 Who dwell in rapturous joy iorevermore 
 In the approving smile ot' God above?' 
 
 Oh! surely wrong and grief may never dnre 
 
 Usurp the empire of a reitlm so fair! 
 
 Pure spirits of delight! Oh! do 3011 deign 
 A glance of pity on man's erring race? 
 
 Foredoomed^ too oft, to wretchedness and pain, 
 
 Estranged from earthly joy and heavenly gra«ce? 
 
 Released from clay^ oh! shall we ever ^hare 
 
 The paradise of yon blue fields of air? 
 
 Eternal talisman of faith and hope! 
 
 Seal of assirrance of celestial bliss! 
 As though life's gloomy vale we darkly grope^ 
 
 What boon so precious to the soul as this, — • 
 Which softly whispers 1 "Death will but restore 
 Life without end, and joys unknown before I '* 
 
 Not for the proudest name that ever hurled 
 
 Offerings of ruin on ambition's fane^ — • ''' 
 
 Not for the wealth of congregated worlds. 
 
 Nor kingly diadems showeied like summer rain, — • 
 
 Had I this talisman of grace divine 
 
 Would I the priceless jewel ere resign! 
 
 The sun has sunk in majesty to rest 
 
 Behind otir western forests. I am sad 
 
 To think what scanty pleasures I've posseessecl, 
 What vvastings cares and sorrows I have had. 
 
 How empty are the aims— the joys of earth — 
 
 Its tumult, pomp and pride, how little worth I 
 
Would I this hour could fix my final gaze, 
 
 Fair Star, on tliee, with firm, unwaveiing trust, 
 
 That when thy chastened, melancholy rays 
 
 Shall glimmer o'er the mound which holds my dust, 
 
 My soul, transported to thy heavenly clima, 
 
 Shall triumph o'er the wreck of earth and time! 
 
 But day's expiring music greets my ear, — 
 
 The hum of busy life is dying low, — 
 The shades of evening gathei yet more near, 
 
 And I to weary, wakeful hours must go. 
 I'hou glorious firmament — ye "isles of light" — 
 O Star of peace and purity — Good Night! 
 Sl^mmek of 1844. 
 
 DIRGE OF A RUSTIC BARD. 
 
 Be hushtd, thou warbling woodland choir! 
 Restrain thy murmurs, bibbliug rill! 
 
 For broken is the Poet's lyre — 
 His throbbing heart in death forever still. 
 
 Dill he not, in his early prime, 
 Eodow you with his soul's deep love, 
 
 And shrine you in his artless rhyme, 
 While musing in the shadow of the grove? 
 
 Ye forest heights! ye vales serene! 
 Ye ne'er again shall hear his lay, — 
 
 His feet, from each familiar scene, 
 Are turned to dwell in Death's dim, shadowy way. 
 
 Nurtured ainid fair rural charms, 
 Calm was his mind, and pure his heart; 
 
 He knew not Fortune's vain alarms, 
 Nor Passion's sway, nor fell Remorse's smart. 
 
 Yet happiness seemed not for him 
 In all the wonted scenes of life; 
 
 In festal halls the lights were dim, 
 Nor valued he Ambition's eager strife. 
 
 Ever he loved to picture forms 
 And visions fair, to earth unknown, 
 
 Till, rent by sublunary storms, 
 He mourned the fancied joy forever flown. 
 
H 
 
 And Nature's calm, majestic reign 
 Wooed him from earth's dull scenes away; 
 
 Id life's turmoil he souglU in vain 
 One cordial to the soul, one quickening ray! 
 
 Yet did he look with kindly eye 
 On all the restless sons of earth, 
 
 And owned a ready sympathy 
 With native sorrow^ and with artless mirth. 
 
 Thus passed his gentle soul away, 
 Without regret, in humble trust ^ 
 
 That He whose spirit woke his clay, 
 New life would give beyond his sleeping dust. 
 
 O youths and virgii3s! strew with flowers 
 The turt which shelters him from ill? 
 
 Mourn, vernal shades and vocal bowers — 
 His lyre is broken, and his heart is still I 
 
 — March, 1846. 
 
 LABOR: ITS RANK AND RIGHTS. 
 
 While strive the votaries of worldly care, 
 Diverse in station, yet alike in wo; 
 Whether the human worm be plenty's lieir, 
 Or herding with the swine, and groveling low, 
 Subsist on what his fellow worms bestow; 
 While foul oppression wastes this earthly ball 
 And the roused People, rushing to and fro, 
 For vengeance on the brutal tyrants call, — 
 I smg the stalwart Power — the victim-lord of all. 
 
 Let angry factions at each other rail, 
 And demagogues pollute fair Freedom's shrine, 
 The humble tenant of the rural vale 
 Heeds not reproach in Virtue's cause divine, 
 What though unknown, unhonored is his line? 
 (High Heaven disowns distinctions weak and vain). 
 The stars that on Columbia's bannei shine 
 Attest the merits of the rustic train 
 Whose holiest toil and worth their luster still sustain. 
 
 Then let it not be said our matchless land 
 Is recreant to Labor's slighted cause; 
 
^5 
 That her free hons, with weak and nerveless hand, 
 Shrink basely thus from God and nature's laws; 
 No; honest Labor has a power which draws 
 The hoiiiHg-e of each hi^h and generous mind — 
 A calm, a holy majesty which awes 
 N'ore than the empty pageantry designed 
 To win the gaze of fools to tyrants of mankind. 
 
 How glorious is his train in every age! 
 How noble are their goings-forth on earth! 
 Who shine the brightest on the historic page 
 For mighty energy and matchless worth? 
 The i^ons of Labor — from creation's birth 
 Their names stand first on Honor's sac red scroll; 
 Nobly they stand, amid the general dearth 
 Of useful arts and dignity of soul 
 Which else had spread unchecked from distant pole to pole. 
 
 To delve thf" mine, to turn the stubborn soil, 
 To rear the dome, to ply each manly art. 
 To prompt the hardy navigator's tod, 
 To guide his course with compass and with chart; 
 To form the soul which firmly walks apart 
 In converse with its own immortal powers, 
 "To raise the genius and to mend the heart," 
 Such are the pastimes of stern Labor's hours, 
 Dispensing Health and Joy, like summer dews and showers. 
 
 Yes, every prize which pampered Luxury bears 
 Is wrung 'from hone'^t Labor's hardy hand; 
 He, nobly, every pain and danger dares 
 To guard the welfare of his native land; 
 Meantime complacent pride holds high command, 
 And spurns him from his presence with disdain — 
 Brands with reproach the self-denying band 
 Who all his high, o'erweening state sustain, 
 As only fit to toil his grandeur to maintain. 
 
 Thus Heaven's behest, alike enjoined on all — 
 Alike essential to the common good — 
 Is wrested by Oppression's hateful thrall 
 To nourish up a base and worthless j^rood 
 On others' toils and groans and tears of blood; 
 Thus huts and palaces commingling rise, 
 
i6 
 
 Aud thus, while starving millions beg for food, 
 Insensate Greed, uiniiindful of t'neir cries, 
 With glaring, wasteful pomp insults tbe patient skies! 
 
 Long-suffering Labor? Genius sublime! 
 Thou moving spirit of tbe social state! 
 And is thy hardy usefulness a crime. 
 Deserving thus a slave's or felon's fate? 
 When shall ascend the high, tbe immortal date 
 When Man shall rise in outraged Freedom's might, — 
 When fell Oppression and relentless Hate 
 Shall yield at leiigth to Reason and to Rijjbt, 
 And sink to deepest hell, and chains of endless night! 
 
 Then shall the Earth— man's coiinnon heritage- 
 No more be shared among tbe favored few. 
 While helpless innocence and h(^ary age 
 Perish to paoiper luxury's useless crew; 
 Then Erin's serfs, and Britain's men so true 
 Shall share the manor which their toils sustain; 
 The generous Frenchman, blithe, the sports pursue 
 Which cro\vn the vintage on bis native plain; 
 And Europe — Earth — forget Oppressioii's bloody reign. 
 
 Be it ours to teach this lesson to mankind, 
 Sons of Columbia, generous and brave! 
 That the oppressed, down-trodden laboring hind 
 Is not a block or brute, nor yet a slave; — 
 But thai the being which his Maker gave 
 Is high and holy in the sight of Heaven, 
 Beside the titled, pampered worthless knave, 
 By brutal appetites and passions driven, 
 Who lives and dies in sin, contirmed and unforgiven. 
 
 Be it ours to wash our guilty stains away. 
 And guard as life our Charier of the Right; 
 Shine forth the Morning Star of Freedom's Day — 
 The lost world's Beacon mid Oppression's night — 
 Till all her hosts join hands with loving might, 
 And equal share the Toil and the Reward; — 
 Then shall the earth resume her primal light, 
 And all the sons of God, with glad accord, 
 
 Hymn Truth's triumphant sway — Earth's paradise restored! 
 
 — 1840-46. 
 
^7 
 
 LIBERTY, EQUALITY, FR VTERNITV. 
 
 len, recent from the h&ud <oi God^, 
 Men trod erect earth's virgin £od^ 
 In harmony with nature's laws, 
 His soul exenapt from o^nilty flaws — 
 With upward tendencis of thought .^£_ 
 His loftv destiny he sought — 
 Even then rejoiced that he was free— 
 Then owned the love of Liberty. 
 
 ^hen exiled from his Eden home, 
 Forlorn mid deseit scenes to roam, I 
 
 Even in the dread be^t of heaven l^^ 
 
 He saw a solemn lesson given; 
 In gribly death's remorseless sway, 
 Turning all men a like to clay — 
 Leveling all to one degree — 
 He read all men's Equality. 
 
 When age on age had rolled away, 
 And earth in bloody strifes grown gray, 
 Man, struggling in the march of mind, 
 Had yet his highest bliss to find,; 
 And loJ Christ's words of peace and love 
 Begin the holy work to move, — - 
 While heaven and earth arouse to see 
 The wonder of Fraternity! 
 
 Hail 1 lovely words of Hope and Power! 
 Earth, disenthralled, shall be }our dower! 
 Before your high, redeeming sway 
 All chains shall f?ll — all thrones decay! 
 Triumph, long-suffering friends of Man, 
 Unknowing kindred, tongue, or clan! 
 Come forth, and shout with generous rage 
 The watchwoids ot earth's noblest age! 
 -Iowa, Junk, 1848. 
 
 THE DESERTED HOUSE. 
 
 Suggested by an incident of a journey to the West. 
 
 Wild journeying with a faint and slender band 
 Across the trackless prairies ot the West — 
 With doubtful footsteps throug'i a stranger laud- 
 
We paiiseil, as shales of night fell roiiad, to rest, 
 And, all forlorn, with care and toil oppressedj 
 Eutered a loiiely cottage near at h md. 
 
 But ah! a sceue of ruin met our gaze — 
 
 Void was the bare, dilapidated wall. 
 On the damp hearth arose no cheerful blaze, 
 
 Nor human voice responded to our call; 
 
 iSilence ami ^loom o'erspread it like a pall. 
 Or blank oblivion's chill and dreary maze. 
 
 Our evening fire dispelled the gathering gloom, 
 
 Gleaming again upon its wonted place; 
 While countless webs, wove b}^ the spider's loo n, 
 
 Like fairy tapestry bedecked each space, 
 
 IvCnding a wizard, melanchv>ly grace 
 To the dim precincts of the desolates room. 
 
 Here, when before the low declining flame 
 
 My weary friends were stretched iu peaceful rest. 
 
 Successive solemn thoughts, wild- moving, ca:ne, 
 Like ancient palmers of the h )iry ve-t; 
 Kach thought of diverse lineaments possessed, 
 
 13ut sombre, melancholy gaib the same. 
 
 One placed me in a visionary scene — 
 
 A social circle throng the hearth around, 
 
 Parental love looks smilingly serene, 
 
 While never-tiring youthtui sports resound; 
 Within these «elf-same walLs I saw abound 
 
 Joy's games — no interludes of vvoe between. 
 
 Another in his magic glass portrayed, 
 
 Through rough and weary years of change and strife, 
 A household scattered, ruined and betrayed— 
 
 Love's ark down-sinking njid the storms of life; 
 
 No more the names of husband, children, wife, 
 Wandering o'er earth, or in her bosom laid. 
 
 Another — and my heart yearned audibly — 
 
 Gave to my vision my far-distant home; 
 But the relentless Genius of Decay 
 
 Was decking it with trophies of the tomb; 
 
 Gone were the love, the beauty and the bloom, 
 Which so enshrined it at an earlier day. 
 
19 
 
 Thus, on old Mississippi's pastoral shore, 
 
 I mused the dark and gusty night away, 
 
 And conned the solemn lesson o'er and o'er — 
 That life, at best, is but a transient day. 
 Beaming awhile with interrupted ray. 
 
 Till night descend, to yield to day no more- 
 
 O homes of earth! O sweet affection's tie! 
 
 O names of country, family and friend! 
 A blight will overtake you by and by, 
 
 Your earth bound pleasures all in darkness end! 
 
 T-oward the All Good alone our souls may tend. 
 Secure their aspirations shall not die! 
 Iowa, Dkcember, I848. 
 
 TO THOMAS H. BENTON". 
 
 From "Sonnets to Senators." — i ^50. 
 
 God speed thee well, old Lion of the West! 
 
 flolding the blatant, traitor horde at bay — 
 
 Frightening the clamorous hell-hounds from their prey, 
 And baring to their fangs thy dauntless breast! 
 Go on, old Bercules! thou Man of men, 
 
 Strangling the cee ning monsters of our time! 
 
 Thou hast some sins, but lost in fame sublime, 
 By throttling the oU\ Dragon in his den! 
 Right worthy art thou of the mighty VVest — ■ 
 
 The VVest, that brooks no pigmy in her sight! 
 
 She bears no traitor brood upon her breast. 
 And she will ^tay thee with her arm of ra'.ght; 
 And thou shalt meet applauding hearts and hands 
 From Maine's primeval woods to El Dorado's suuds! 
 
 TO A DOUGHFA.CE U. S. SENATOR, AND DE- 
 FEATED CANDIDATE FOR PRESIDENT. 
 
 From "'Sonnets to Senators." — 1850. 
 
 O great of paunch! that yearnest night and day, 
 lu direful throes o'er the dissolving Union! 
 
 And crawling, cringing, strives to make thy way 
 
 To slavery's crown and bliss of sweet communion! 
 
 Thou bearded Sphinx! m riddles dark ex:ponnding 
 Eaws all unknown to native reason's light, 
 
20 
 
 Thyself aud all thy votaries coafounding 
 
 With wild chimeras, bred ot moral night,— 
 
 Curse on the party pride that e'er should ma'^e thee 
 Aught but a hissing to the free northwest ! 
 
 While Justice bids that she should now forsake thee, 
 And cast thee forth, an alien from her breast, 
 
 To grind the African in tyrant pride, 
 
 Or take a brother's place by Austrian Haynau's side! 
 
 THE PEOPLE'S HEART. 
 
 Written p-nding the constderation in Coagr.;ss of the Coinpr3inise .Measures ot 1850. 
 
 "I will place within them as a guide 
 
 My umpire Conscience."— GOD IS MILTO."^. 
 
 Oh! listen to the throbbings of the People's miglitv heart! 
 
 Beating strong for Truth and Justice, bidding knave an J 
 
 tyrant start! 
 God is speaking in its cadence. He g:<ve its earliest tone, 
 
 And it still repeats the harmony nearest to His throne, 
 
 As, like a fount upspringing, in purity aad force, 
 
 Its heaven-born spirit still ascends, aspiring to its Source. 
 
 Is human nature wholly false? Does Mammon reign supreme? 
 Is there no lingering ray divine its darkness to reieein? 
 Let pagan Athens answer, treading lucre in thi dust, 
 Heeding not her great J'hemistocles, but /iristides the Just; 
 Let G-reece united answer, when Flaminius' decree 
 Awoke the thunder of her voice for new found libertyf 
 
 Let Britain's millions answer, who, forgetting their owu 
 
 wrongs, 
 Struck eight hundred thousand manacles from Slavery's 
 
 crouching throngs, 
 And antedated heavenly bliss in graceful freemens' songs! 
 Yes, the weary sun whose beams so long shone sadly on the 
 
 calm 
 And melancholy beaury of the slave-thronged Isles of Balm, 
 Heard, at last, their song of freedom rise to Heaven like a 
 
 psalm! 
 
 Let fiery France make answer --never call her struggles 
 
 vain! 
 Beheld her crying unto God for Liberty again! 
 While tempests o'er her gather, who, with countenance 
 
 serene, 
 
21 
 
 And a glory streaming round him, rises up to still the scene? 
 
 'Tis the poet Christian-states-nan immortal Li^martine! 
 
 He speaks— and rage and clamor, and the cry for human 
 blood, 
 
 Are drowned in cheers of I^iberty, and songs of Brotherhood! 
 
 Nation calleth unto nation, as deep calleth unto deep — 
 iVnd lo! thy soul, 'Columbia! arouses as from sleep! 
 Arouses— and the fetters which bound her in her shame 
 Part asunder at her rising, as flax before the flame! 
 Now bind again her pinions, lying statesmen! if you can. 
 Or quell her pulse's throbbiugs for the holy rights of man! 
 
 Ye are wise in sordid craftiness, ye are men of mighty mind. 
 But know that your own heartlessuess is rare among man- 
 kind ; 
 
 And though, like Alpine summits, ye may soar aloft — to 
 frteze, 
 
 Your strength is as the slender reed's, swayed by the even- 
 ing breeze; 
 
 For the fount of human feeling, in an exhaustless tide, 
 
 Is pouring forth a lava flood to whelm you in your pride! 
 
 Oh! listen to the throbbiugs of the People's mighty heart! 
 God is speaking in each cadeace:— "Xe^ yoar sordid aims 
 departl 
 
 Man is more than food and raiment, more than gold and 
 silver bright; 
 
 Wealth and pow^r are worthless baubles, lueighed against 
 my Truth and lUght! 
 
 Cease your impious machinations ^dread the vengeance of 
 7ny rod — 
 
 ^tay your insolent rebellion 'gainst the goodness of vour 
 God! 
 
 — lowA, Junk, 1850. 
 
 "IN HIS NA.MHSHALI, THE GKNTILES TRUST." 
 
 Matt. XII; 2i. 
 
 At length, thank Heaven! the veil is rent in twain — 
 The dead partition walls are broken down — 
 
 And universal man, o'er earth's domain, 
 
 xMay know his Father s face, so long unknown. 
 
 Lone Judah! steward of the light divine! 
 Thy glory hath departed, but thy trust 
 
 Was well fulfilled; for lo! its splendors shine, 
 
22 
 
 Luring men's eyCvS from gazing^ in the dustc 
 The Savior comes— Ihe sinless Son of God; 
 
 The Sun of Righteousness, with beams of love^ 
 Illumes Earth's distant realms and isles abroad^ 
 
 And bids the mists of prejudice remove. 
 Even so, O Master, make our spirits free, 
 With thy own boundless, heavenly Charity! 
 Iowa. September, 1850. 
 
 INDIAN SUMMER IN THE WEST. 
 
 Now comes the sweetest of the year, 
 Though robed in vesture browa and sere; 
 The glorious sun's refal2:ent rays 
 Are temper d by the azure hazi, 
 Which, like a veil of li.<?ht, serene, 
 Sp'ritual, enwraps the scene. 
 The tailing, many-colored woods 
 Beseem the spirit's pensi\e moods; 
 The undulating, pnrpling plains 
 Spread forth like Beauty's fair domains. — 
 Swift-flying from hib northern springs, 
 The crane a farewell ditty sings. 
 
 At night, the moon her silent round 
 Takes through the heavenly deeps profound, 
 Ivike some mild angel's circling flight, 
 Whose waving pniions beam with li2:ht. 
 With chastened, melancholy glow, 
 She views earth's fading plains below, 
 And mingled charms— above — beneath— 
 Make bright wan Autumn's fading wreath. 
 Now, kind'ed by the busy swains, 
 Fierce flames sweep o'er the grassy plains, 
 Vast clouds of densest smoke arise. 
 And fire with lurid hues the skies. 
 
 I gaze the circling landscape round 
 In pensive dreamy rapture bound; 
 Restless these matchless nights and days, 
 Their beauty on my spirit preys. 
 
 Iowa, Oct., 1850. 
 
FREE SOIL RATIFICATION SONG. 
 
 CAMPAIGN OF 1 85 2, 
 
 Now.the holy name of God, isp with our flag ouce morel 
 The only banner fit to wave 01^ Freedom's blessed shore — 
 Oive out its ample, stainless folds unto the wild winds free. 
 Emblazoned with the storied, ancient creed of Liberty, — 
 The creed proclaimed lon^ years ago, when Independence 
 
 bell 
 Eang out. one July morning, the British tyrant's knell,-— 
 The creed for which our fathers bled, and gave to us in trust, 
 To keep it and mauirain it. when they should sieep in dust* 
 Up with our flag! and let us vow it shall forever wave, 
 Till, warcned by Liberty and Love, broad earth knows n«t 
 
 a slave! 
 
 The articles of that proud creed it glads the soul to tell, — 
 Their very utterance wins the mind and stirs the blood 
 
 right well; 
 First, to redeem our native land— to purge away her 
 
 shame — 
 To keep her true, and onward still, we urge our highest' 
 
 claim; 
 Next for the lights of man, as Man, the equal child of God, 
 Our toils and sympathies are due through Ai,i. the wori,d 
 
 abroad; — 
 And to our fold the sweetest voice bids every pilgrim come — 
 Next to the strain of Liberty — the welcome voice of home,— 
 Of HOME FOR all;— and last, to prove, by Heaven's grac- 
 ious plan, 
 In all its glorious extent, the Destiny of Man! 
 
 Then rally to our standard, sturdy workers of the land! 
 
 With honest shame, and proud disdain, renounce the ser- 
 vile band! 
 
 Despite their bluster and their sneers, they feel their own 
 disgrace — 
 
 'Neath slavery's brand, they scarce dare look a freeman in 
 the face: 
 
 There were tories vile in the first strife for Freedom on our- 
 shore — 
 
24 
 
 But the DOUGHFACE is a viler thing than earth e'er knew 
 
 before! — 
 Strength lieth not in numbers — the little Spartan bend — 
 Like a rock in ocean — -broke the host that swayed on either 
 
 hand, — 
 Chief of martyrs, self devoted, on the shrine of "Liberty — 
 Dying — but in death immortal— that their country might 
 
 be free! 
 
 Glorious spirits! but ouR Country claims a nobler emprise- — 
 Immortal Courage beaming from Patrick Henry's eyes — 
 Lo, singly, like a god he stands, and Tyranny defies! 
 'Mid timid friends and throng^ing foes- --the gribbet in his 
 
 path, 
 And a traitor's doom for time to conie---he bnteth not a 
 
 breath, 
 But warns and taunts the tyrant, crying ''Liberty or 
 
 Death!" 
 Oh God! THAT flame of Liberty---relumine it again 
 On our hill tops, in our valleys, and the bosoms of our men! 
 Let every freeman feel assured that Right alone is stroma. 
 And that two can chase ten thousand coward minions of 
 
 "^ the wrong! 
 Then beneath our banner streaming. vOvV we it shall ever 
 
 wave, 
 Till, warmed by Liberty and Love, broad earth knows not 
 
 a slave! 
 
 INVOCATION.— DEMOCRACY- 
 
 O heaven-de<^cended power. Democracy! 
 
 Upbuilder of the People! and shalt thou 
 
 To any fleshly presence veil thy brow, 
 Or to thy recreant cha npions bend the knee? 
 What are self-seeking leaders unto thee, 
 
 Who heavest the mighty heart of all the world? 
 
 At whose behest kings from their thrones are hu.rled,, 
 And slavery's myrmidons like shadows flee? 
 Therefore, ye soldiers oi this power divine, 
 
 Behold your only Chief! and oh, arise, 
 With earnest zeal, and purify his shrine 
 
•25 
 
 From the foul furaes of treachery and lies,- 
 Till the appeased divinity send forth 
 His pristitse light to wake aad gladden earth! 
 
 — 1852. 
 
 OUR TRUE PACIFIC LINE. 
 
 Composed October.,"i853, in anticipation of the completion of the Union Pacific B. E^ 
 
 fr 
 
 JVlid the evening twilight gathering 
 O'er my native western plain, 
 
 I mark the fierce careering 
 
 Of the far sounding railway train; 
 
 Shrieking and thundering and clanging. 
 
 It startles the rural scene, 
 Like the storm god's sudden appearing 
 
 On d summer eve serene. 
 
 As I sit and ^aze, and listen 
 
 To the yet unwonted sountJ, 
 Busy Fancy backward wanders 
 
 To the Past's enchanted ground; 
 When, where yon smoke-steed courses, 
 
 And tugs at his fiery rein, 
 The dial enisles of the forest 
 
 Knew ne'er a ruder strain 
 
 Than the wild bird's merry carol, 
 
 Or the sh} deer's stealthy tiead, 
 While leaped the sportive squirrel 
 
 'Neafh the green arch overhead. 
 Sunk 'nealh the ax of the woodman, 
 
 The forest no longer waves, 
 Though a p^j^eer here and there lingers 
 
 Yet 'mid his fellows' graves. 
 
 And I think how this chain of iron 
 
 Ere long all our country shall bind, 
 
 And waft iis life and its commerce 
 
 More swift than the lagging wind; 
 
 Ay, a^vay to the far distant sunset 
 'Twill point to the unerring line, 
 
26 
 
 Over moiintaiu and valley 
 
 To the vast Pacific's brine. 
 
 How the fire-steed will hasteo; 
 
 Ever away — away- 
 Over the boundless prairies, 
 
 Where the elk and bison stray, 
 Over the wandering rivers, 
 
 Through proud States yet to be, 
 And through the mountain passes|, 
 
 Prone to the Western Sea. 
 
 And while the yet startled echoes 
 Are sounding their terror back, 
 
 How the wide world's wealth and empire 
 ; Shall hasten on the track: 
 
 O, the panoramic ages 
 
 Shall pale their storied power, 
 
 And if Matumon is to rule our earth 
 Now comes his crowning hour! 
 
 —But I seem to hear a murmur 
 
 On the breath of evening cast, 
 From the bright yet shadowy Future, 
 
 From the melancholy Past; 
 A "still, small voice" — -I hear it 
 
 Like gentle music fall — 
 *'One soul outweighs the spoil of worlds, 
 
 To the Ruler over all." 
 
 Then while ye pile wealth's trophies 
 
 On plain and hill and glen, 
 Heed well that greater treasure — 
 
 A race of high-souled men ; 
 Clear heads and hearts of purity, 
 
 The glory of a state, 
 The beauty of the passing hour, 
 
 Assuring prosperous fate. 
 
 Then lay the track of Progiess 
 
 Through the broad realms of Mind! 
 
 Speed on the trains of lyight and Truth, 
 To gladden humankind! 
 
 Through the howling wastes of Ignorance, 
 
27 
 
 Through Pride's deceitful show, 
 With the banner of Salvation, 
 
 Bid the swift- winged blessings go. 
 
 Thus shall heaven's healing dews descend 
 
 On our nation's feveicd heart. 
 And sanctify the vital tiaes 
 
 That nourish eveiy part; 
 And, as advancing empire 
 
 Looks to the Western Sea, 
 The Pacific of our Future 
 
 Shall spread intiuitely! 
 
 THE HOUSE WHERE 1 WAS BORN. 
 
 It stands beside the dusty way, 
 All age and weather worn, 
 Nor tree, nor vine, nor clustering flowers 
 
 Its naked walls adorn; 
 Moss-grown its hoary, time-stained roof- 
 No sweet charm lingers there; 
 The scene, by nature once so blest, 
 Is desolate and bare. 
 
 Yet let the heartless worldling laugh, 
 
 Or cprl the lip in scorn, 
 I can not view unmoved the spot— 
 The house where I was born. 
 
 For here my father in his prime, 
 With manhood's arm of might, 
 Clove down the giant forest trees 
 
 That dimmed the noonday light, 
 And reared those walls and that old roof, 
 
 To shelter those he loved; 
 The peiils of our border life, 
 
 Its harsh privations proved. 
 
 Then let the heartless worlding laugh. 
 
 Or curl the Up in scorn, 
 Ii^can not view unmoved the spot — 
 The house where I was born. 
 
28 
 
 And here my mother tended well, 
 The nurslings of her breast — 
 Alone amid the wilderness— 
 
 Their waking and their rest — 
 OftJmes when night bung o'er the woods, 
 
 And snow lay on the ground— 
 The gaunt wolf "howling on the hill/' 
 The savage prowling rouiid. 
 
 Then let the heartless worlding laugh,, 
 
 Or curl the V.p in scorn, 
 I can not view unmoved the spot — 
 The house where I was born. 
 
 Death closed that father's eyes alar. 
 
 In years of long ago; 
 'i'hat mother lingers happily 
 
 A pilgrim here below; 
 But the youthtul band whose barks here moored 
 
 To start upon life's tide, 
 Are whelmed beneath the treacherous flood, 
 Or by storms parted wide. 
 
 Then let the heartless worlding laugh^ 
 
 Or curl the lip in scorn, 
 I can not view unmoved the spot — 
 The house where I was born. 
 
 What though from all this scene to me 
 
 No menfiories arise? 
 (For pitying memory touches not 
 
 Unconscious infant eyes.) 
 Whoever voyaged on life's sea, 
 In calm, or storm, or gale, 
 But fain would trace the fading strand 
 Which saw his earliest sail? 
 
 Then let the heartless worlding laugh, 
 
 Or curl tie lip in scorn. 
 I can not view unmoved the spot- — 
 The house where I was born. 
 
 Then marvel not that to this spot 
 
 A pilgrim oft 1 come, 
 To view, with heart too full for words, 
 
 What should have been my home! 
 No father and no mother here — 
 
29 
 
 No kin(lre(^ one to see — 
 No hope to greet the band complete 
 This side eternity! 
 
 So let the heartless worlding scoff, 
 
 Or oar) the lip in scovn. 
 I can not view unmoved the spot — 
 The house where I was born. 
 
 — Cknterville, Wayne Co , Ind., 1853. 
 
 THE LAUREATE OF THE PRESS, 
 
 From a Carrier's Address, Jan. i, 1859. 
 
 Whilom, when Court and Castle Hall 
 Held slumbering Europe's sons in thrall — - 
 When tinsek-d drones styled lords and kings. 
 Deemed those who 7nade them but as things, 
 And with their robber, ruffian bands 
 GorjJjed of the fatness of the lands, 
 Wrung from the unrequited toil 
 Of the poor serfs who tilled the soil — 
 Those arrant knaves — as well they might — 
 Held many a festal day and night; 
 And, drawn from out their stolen hoards, 
 Whatever dainty earth affords 
 Shone sumptuous on their ample boards; 
 The wine-cup poured a generous tide, 
 And boisterous revel sounded wide. 
 Then, summoned to improve the scene, 
 With trembling, reverential mien, 
 The gray-beard Minstrel, wandering 'round, 
 A free and welcome guest was found. 
 (At other times neglected, poor, 
 Begging his food from door to door.) 
 Those dark marauders' deeds he sung, 
 And glossed them o'er with servile tongue; 
 The stupid and besDlted crew 
 Who neither Arts nor Letters knew -- 
 (For then the cloistered monks alone 
 The keys of Knowledge held their own), 
 Were quite transported all, of course, 
 
30 
 
 To fiud their na-nes run smooth in verse, 
 ^^ And their foul deeds of blood and wrong 
 
 ^^ Grew whi/e beneath the charm of Song. 
 
 Those scenes long past, another day — 
 At least on loved America — 
 Has dawned. Here all alike are lords 
 And brothers; social life affords 
 To none the power to crush his neighbor. 
 Or rob him of the fruits of labor. 
 Nor this alone: Each freeman's mind. 
 By Knowledge strengthened and refined — • 
 Untrammeled in its boundless sphere — 
 Finds its true rank — its own career. 
 Not "learned classes" now alone 
 The stores of Thought and Wisdom own. 
 But all the ''common folks' ' as well 
 Of trophies of the Mind c&u tell. 
 Art spreads her works on every side 
 In forms of use, and power and pride; 
 The School — but chief the Printing Press- 
 Comes to enlighten and to bless; 
 Not Congress, Parliament, or King 
 Omnipotence like it can bring; 
 It is this hour, from strand to strand, 
 The Kuler of this mighty land ! 
 Soft as snow flakes or sunbeams fall 
 Its "still, small voice" enlightens all — ■ 
 But as the People's spirit wakes. 
 That voice in tones of thunder speaks! 
 
 The Press our Ruler, then, of course 
 
 Its Ministers must be^ perforce, 
 
 Not less, at least, than feudal lords 
 
 In all true nobleness affords. 
 
 Nay — all Us subjects, as they read, 
 
 Become ennobled by the deed — 
 
 (The patent of nobility 
 
 The sheet borne 'round by such as I). 
 
 But in the times of festal grace — 
 
 About the Christmas holidays — 
 
 When Turkey annually yields 
 
 And falls upon the ensanguined nelds — 
 
31 
 
 Who now shall take the Minstrel's part, 
 
 And touch the harp with cunninof art? 
 
 Who but the Newsboy? Who but he — 
 
 Of typical nobility — 
 
 Scion of "Young America" — 
 
 No wandering beg2:ar halt and gray — 
 
 He chants his merry roundelay, 
 
 And greets you as I do today — 
 
 His themes all stirring, fresh and bright, 
 
 Instinct with Progress^ Truth and Right 
 
 MAPLE SUGAR MEMORIES. 
 
 Addressed to a iadyjon her presenting me with a kimp of maple smgar, fresh from its 
 Kiative N'orth. 
 
 Thanks for j^our gift! — Broad earth owns not, 
 
 A dearer or a sweeter! 
 To life's bright morn — home's natal spot — 
 
 A talisman completer! 
 
 The weary years roll back, and bring 
 
 Again my happy childhood, 
 Its pleasant home, its cherished hauuts, 
 
 Lapped in the fragrant wildwood, 
 
 A venerated for Ji I see — 
 
 The dearest — 'tis my mother's, 
 
 Her loving glance and smile on me, 
 My sisters and my brothers. 
 
 And ever from her hand to mine, 
 
 When but a little shaver, 
 A lump of sugar was the sign 
 
 And seal of good behavior! 
 
 Again, while chill the March wind? blow, 
 A.nd snow the earth is wrapping, 
 
 Forth with the larger boys I go, 
 The sugar orchard tapping. 
 
 The holes are bored, the spiles are driven, 
 The troughs adjusted squarely; 
 
 Theu, when a copious thaw is given, 
 The "sweety sap" flows rarely. 
 
 / 
 
32 
 
 Then busily from tree to tree 
 
 The water-hauler passes, 
 And gathers in the sap to be 
 
 Made sugar or molasses. 
 
 In barrels to the sugar-camp 
 
 He bears the crystal treasure. 
 
 And pours in giant poplar troughs^ 
 In floods of larger measure. 
 
 There o'er the furnace in a row 
 
 Are ranged the caldrons boilings 
 
 And growing sweets mature below-— 
 Reward of all the toiling. 
 
 Syrup, molasses, taffy, rate 
 
 In saccharine succession, 
 In plenteous sugar culminate — 
 
 The maker's proud possession. 
 
 All day the work goes bravely on, 
 Nor yet at nightfall passes, 
 
 With "stirrings off," and mirth and fun 
 Of rosy lads and lasses. 
 
 At night, the dim woods, half concealed, 
 Majesticy calm and solemn, 
 
 In the bright fire-light stand revealed 
 In many a stately column. 
 
 So pass the hours, till spring, apace, 
 
 Comes on — no more a rover- 
 Bringing the brighter, warmer days— 
 And sugar- making's overl 
 
 I mark the lambtongue's spotted leaf. 
 The crowfoot follows early; 
 
 The tomtit flits with pauses brief, 
 The bluebird whistles clearly. 
 
 JSuch are the visions which attend 
 
 Upon this grateful token, 
 While thoughts and sympathies they lend 
 
 Too deep to e'er be spoken. 
 
33 
 
 My years of exile fade away; 
 
 My youth coraes back before me ; 
 My native laud in bright array — 
 
 Again her skies bend o'er me! 
 
 Thauks for your gift! . Could aught on earth 
 
 An added value give it? 
 Yes, there remains its crowning worth — 
 
 From your hand to receive it! 
 
 •San Marcos, Tex., June i, 1882. 
 
 WHEN THE ROSKS COME AGAIN". 
 
 NEW VERSION. 
 
 Sang a dark-ej/ed Hebrew maiden, 
 
 Miriam of the placid brow, 
 Brightly smiling, time beguiling — 
 
 Almost I behold her now! 
 And her singing, earliest bringing 
 To my ear the artless strain, 
 Still comes to me — thrilling through me- 
 When the roses come again: — 
 
 "When the roses come again; 
 When the roses come again, 
 I will meet you, 
 I will greet you, 
 When the roses come again." 
 
 Sang the maiden, while o'erladen 
 
 Sorrow sealed me for her own, 
 For my fairest, best and dearest 
 
 From my clasp forever flown; 
 Dumb-despairing, scarcely caring 
 
 For the hope that might remain, 
 Weeping for bis dreamless sleeping, 
 Ne'er to wake on earth again! 
 When the roses come again, 
 When the roses come again, 
 Ne'er to meet me, 
 
34 
 
 Ne'er to greet me, 
 When the roses come again. 
 
 Less of gladness, more of sadness, 
 
 Still the sweet soog brings to me^ 
 For the singer brief did linger 
 
 Here on earth its joys to see; 
 With the flowers of autumn's bowers 
 
 bhe, too, passed from earthly pain ; — 
 Thought is winging, memory bringing 
 Sadness with the sweet refrain — • 
 When the roses come again, 
 When the roses* come again ^ 
 Ne'er to meet us, 
 Ne'er to greet us, 
 When the roses con^e agaio» 
 
 ■ — San Marcos, Tkx., April 8, i 
 
35 
 
 %n iCijgl^tjei:^ I9jis^in> 
 
 A TKST OF PERFECT LOVE. 
 
 From "The Hoosier Village; A Satire." 
 
 — Where the forest has been taught to bow 
 'Go mark the adventurous '-native" drive his plow! 
 Where clustering stumps their grisly tenors shed, 
 And matted roots for roods around are spread. 
 Scarce does the share its direful work begin 
 Kre a root, severed, strikes the plowman's shin; 
 (A herald blow of countless more to come 
 Between the seed-time and the harvest-home.) 
 Down sinks the swain, with anguish grinds his teeth, 
 Pain for a time suspending speaking breath, — 
 Then cries, arising with a tragic air — 
 "It is enough to make a preacher swear!" 
 Sooth does he say, my witness Muse declares, 
 For blows like this provoke no saint to prayers! 
 
 O priestly dandies! if you v^ish to know 
 
 If jou've subdued temptation here below; 
 
 If wine and women spread their lures in vain, 
 
 Yel still some doubts ot "perfect love" remain; 
 
 Attend the trial which the Muse shall give, 
 
 And if you triumph, haste with Job to live: — 
 
 Take a March morning, with a fractious team 
 
 Lashed to a plow's inexorable beam; 
 
 Then to a Hoosier "clearing" take your way, 
 
 Where serried stumps rise from the yellow clay; 
 
 There ply the plowman's toil an hour's brief space, 
 
 Till sweat and smut begrime your form and face, 
 
 'Mid crackling roots, and clods, and frequent stones, 
 
 Bruising your flesh, and racking all your bones; 
 
 If then your spirits, with complacent flow, 
 
 No luffle still nor interruption know — 
 
 Go! with the foremost saints of olden time, 
 
 Assert your title to the heavenly clime! 
 
 — Iowa, March, 1849. 
 
36 
 
 A RUSTIC'S "ORIGINAL. 
 
 Impromptu on the incident related. 
 
 Two noted country pedagogues 
 Resolved to grace this sheet 
 
 With soirething that eyes never saw. 
 Nor e'er did lips repeat. 
 
 Each sat with rueful aspect dire 
 And stirred his stag^nant brain. 
 
 And gazed upon the lair white sheet 
 Without the power to stain. 
 
 O, how they longed for "copy-hand,'* 
 That smooth, straight-forward line, 
 
 Where measured words, in ordered ranks? 
 In graceful splendor shine! 
 
 At length, confounded and amazed, 
 They slunk from out the room, 
 
 And chilled the bright sun's cheerful rays 
 With their dark brows of gloom! 
 
 A rustic saw their doleful plight, 
 And seized the pen in haste, 
 
 And soon upon the snow-white sheet 
 These lines triumphant traced. 
 
 — 1839- 
 
 HOOSIER DEFY TO PARSON MILLER. 
 
 From a New Year's Address, 1843. — A downeast clergyman, named William Miller,, 
 predicted that the end of the world would come in said year. The prediction received 
 large credence, and great excitement followed. 
 
 Boldly, ye Hoosiers, lift to heaven your eyes,. 
 Secure from all the thunders of the skies; 
 Fear not or comets tail, or fiery flood, 
 Invulnerable in your native mud ! 
 Achilles' Vulcan-manufactured shield 
 Not half such cheap security could yield. 
 
 A MUTUAL "SELL." 
 
 Two millions bought de Castellane 
 And castles — principally "in Spain;'' 
 The purchaser Miss Anna Gould — 
 The general verdict — "Both well sold!"' 
 
 -1895, 
 
37 
 
 l^^&^nt^i^!^ Sffront ©tl^jer Poi^^ntj^* 
 
 KARI.Y LOVK. 
 
 How sweet is love in childhood found, 
 When artless joy still circles round! 
 How ill is manhood's pride repaid 
 By broken ties which youth had made! 
 
 — Eustace and Caroline, A Pastoral Tale. 
 
 BIRTHRIGHT. 
 
 Proud Hoosier State! T wouldnot give 
 iVly birth-right on thy honored soil, 
 
 The fellowship of those who live 
 
 By heaven's blessing on their toil — 
 
 For all the tinsel pomp that clings 
 
 Around the state of i^ords and kings! 
 
 — Indiana's Pioneers, 
 
 WAR. 
 
 Down with Ambition's bloody wreath! 
 
 Accursed may they still remain — 
 Those laurels foul which scent of death 
 
 And carnage on the battle plain! 
 Oh! would just men stand firmly forth, 
 
 Wiih frowns of awe, and words of might. 
 How would War's prestige shrink from Earth, 
 
 Like darkness from day's burning light! 
 
 —Napolee^n at the Plow. 
 
 WOODS. 
 
 The woods, the ancient, hoary woods! 
 
 long ages have passed by, 
 Yet over things of man's device 
 
 They ve triumph'd gloriously; 
 They saw the red man's empire fade 
 
 From out their broad domain, 
 Nations and throues have turn'd to dust; 
 
 Yet the o'd woods remain: 
 They are all beautiful and bright, 
 
 All glorious and grand — 
 The living witnesses of Heaven, 
 
 Planted by Gods own hand! 
 
 — Tlie Woods. 
 
3S 
 
 ACGOUNTABIIvITY. 
 
 It beseems us not to sport away 
 
 The hours of brief existence. He who formed 
 
 The earth, and all the shining host of heaven, 
 
 A priceless jewel to our care, in trust, 
 
 Has given, to be withdrawn when He sees fit 
 
 Who gave the blessing. He calls on us, m words 
 
 ^^nd promises of love, to guard and reverence 
 
 The inestimable boon. If we refuse 
 
 To bear His words, and scorn His gift divine, 
 
 Enduring woe must be our bitter lot. 
 
 O, be it still our care to guard this gem I 
 
 That, when He shall demand His own again, 
 
 We may surrender it, unstained and pure 
 
 As we received, to Him who gave the gift! 
 
 — On My Twenty first Birthday, 
 
 MAN TO MAN. 
 
 Man's nobler sympathies below 
 Are due unto his kind- 
 
 My Mission, 
 
 SIMII^E, 
 
 As the earth, while daily turning, 
 Still rounds the sun in splendor burning, 
 Mid varying scenes of good and ill 
 The moral world progresses still. 
 
 — Ayinuary, 1852. 
 
 VOICKS. 
 
 I loathe coarse man's harsh-grating bass 
 As much as his bewhiskered face,- — 
 But woman's heaven-breathing tone 
 Excels her angel form alone. 
 
 — A Bachelor' s Vindication. 
 
 EXILED. 
 
 I scarce can brook the idle jars of Earth; 
 
 Her sordid tumults grate upon my ear; 
 I deem her prate of Freedom little worth, 
 
 While its true prophet pines forsaken here I 
 
 —Kossuth in London y 1852, 
 
39 
 
 COV35NANT. 
 
 Tyrants! ye still are strong 
 
 Upon this earthly ball. 
 But one true man, defving" wrong, 
 
 Is mightier than ye all! 
 For strength divine is given, 
 
 And if for truth he's slain, 
 His blood seals covenant with Heaveu 
 
 He has not died in vain! 
 
 — Tribute to Lovejoy, 
 
 TREES. 
 
 There's a glory of the herb. 
 And a glory of the flower, 
 
 But the glory of the tree 
 
 Is Nature's nobler dower! 
 
 — Yon Solitary Elm. 
 
 REBUKE. 
 
 O, "men of these degenerate days!'* 
 
 How little do you think, or care, 
 Of those whose toils and sufferings 
 
 Won you your homes so fair! 
 
 — Lines on a Land Warrant. 
 
 TRUST. 
 
 By the partners of my lot, 
 
 The sons of poverty and sorrow, 
 1 trust I shall not be forgot, 
 
 lyike sunset clouds upon the morrow. 
 With them I've proved life's thorny maze, 
 
 For them my life is freely given; 
 And when my love for them decays, 
 
 May love for me decay in Heaven! 
 And I will trust my memory 
 
 Alone unto their sacred keeping — 
 Their true hearts will remember me, 
 
 When low within the dust I'm sleeping, 
 
 — A Dream of Fame. 
 
ii i^ C^' C^ /f V. 
 
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