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HIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 
 
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 t UNITED STATES OF AMERICA.! 
 
RETROSPECT, 
 
 AND OTHER 
 
 POEMS. 
 
 The bard's aim is to give us thoughts ; his art 
 Lieth in giving them as bright as may be. 
 And even when their looks are earthy, still 
 If opened, like geoids, they may be found 
 Full of all sparkling, sparry loveliness. 
 
 Festus. 
 
 BOSTON: 
 
 JAMES MUNROE AND COMPANY 
 
 1846. 
 
PS 3 i+S 
 
 WSS' 
 
 Entered according to act of Congress, in the year 1846, 
 
 By James Mukeoe <fc Co. 
 
 In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. 
 
 Boston : 
 
 Printed by S. X. Dickinson & Co. 
 
 52 "Washington Street. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 The author has attempted, in the first and longest 
 of the pieces of the present volume, to depict the feel- 
 ings and thoughts which would be likely to pass through 
 the mind of a man, who, having passed a reckless and 
 dissolute life, at length comes to reflection. He is 
 taken at one of those moments which, it is believed, 
 come to all such, at times, when the mind will turn in 
 upon itself. The result of such introspection, together 
 with such trains of thought as are naturally suggested 
 by it, form the substance of the poem. 
 
 In some of the smaller pieces, an attempt has been 
 made, by a developement of some of their less obvious 
 but more important relations, to exhibit the poetical 
 aspect of objects that might, perhaps, be considered as 
 the farthest removed from anything like poetry. The 
 Railroad, to an unreflecting observer, would appear, at 
 
IV PREFACE. 
 
 first sight, to have very little of poetry about it. It 
 would be deemed a mere material mass of iron, wood 
 or stone, and earth. Yet, when we come to look at 
 the powers that have given birth to it ; the wide rela- 
 tions which it has to the interests, happiness, and ad- 
 vancement of the race, in the extraordinary changes 
 and effects it is destined to produce upon the face of 
 society, and the fate of man ; the wheels of industry it 
 sets in motion ; the hidden springs of action it touches ; 
 the resources, material as well as mental, it developes ; 
 the quickening it gives to social feeling, in the increased 
 facilities it affords for its wider cultivation and more 
 frequent indulgence ; the prejudices and false judg- 
 ments it corrects; — when we consider all these, and 
 follow them out to all their hidden developements, it 
 becomes full of high and soul-stirring poetry. 
 
 And so of other objects. An apothecary's shop 
 would be deemed far enough from a poetical object ; 
 yet view it in its manifold associations and relations, 
 and its aspect changes, at once. Indeed, it is hardly 
 going too far to assert that all objects, in life as well as 
 nature, have their poetical aspects — their aspects of 
 beauty, of stirring interest, and deep truth — the 
 
PREFACE. V 
 
 store, the factory, and the work-shop, not less than the 
 flower, the fountain, and the moonlight. Indeed, the 
 former would seem to have, if anything, a more ex- 
 citing interest, since their relations to the most impor- 
 tant of the subjects of human concern, the mind and 
 heart of man, are the more intimate. It has been in 
 regard to poetry, much as it has in respect to religion. 
 Men Lave looked for it afar off, in the heights of the 
 heavens and the depths of the sea, in the distant past 
 or the more distant future, when lo ! it was, also, 
 very nigh them, on their right hand and their left, 
 even in their own hearts and lives. Hence, some of 
 the false and foolish speculations in regard to the pros- 
 pects of American poetry. 
 
 Indeed, to this most prolific, though comparatively 
 neglected source, or some other of a kindred nature, 
 the writer of the present day must be driven — if from 
 no other cause, by very stress of subject, so to speak. 
 For, leaving out of view topics of a high historical or 
 romantic interest, those which have, hitherto, been 
 deemed the most, if not the only, suitable subjects for 
 poetry, have become wholly exhausted — fairly drained 
 
 out — worn threadbare. The sky, the sea, the forest 
 1# 
 
VI PREFACE. 
 
 — individually or collectively; each tree, herb, and 
 plant, from its waving top down through, each branch 
 and leaf, to its earth-penetrating roots ; evening, with 
 its " breathing stillness soft," and silent night, with or 
 without its glittering attendants ; the fall of water, the 
 singing of birds, the glory of the sun and the day — all 
 the phases of natural beauty or sublimity — what shall 
 one say of any of these that has not already been said 
 in a hundred forms, in the best manner, as well as the 
 worst, by masters as well as poetasters — in prose as 
 well as verse ? Not that they are not as poetical now 
 as ever they were, but that the poetry that is in 
 them has been already expressed, and painted in forms 
 of beauty that cannot be excelled — that the hand of 
 time cannot obliterate. It is preoccupied ground ; and 
 the moment we set our foot upon it, the uncomfortable 
 doubt is constantly upon the mind, whether we are 
 not laying ourselves open to the charge of plagiarism, or 
 else to comparisons that we shrink from. Such topics, 
 unless some new associations or relations in them can 
 be discovered to the mind or heart of man, would seem 
 to be hardly open ones to the verse-writer of the pres- 
 
PREFACE. Vll 
 
 ent day. Unless a new path can be struck out, and 
 new subjects be discovered, it must go hard with him. 
 
 Subjects, however, rich in material and exciting in 
 interest, He open, in great profusion, to him that has 
 the eye to perceive them, in the every day life, and 
 labor, and strife, and stir of the work-day world around 
 us ; and in the heart of man, which is there beating, 
 with its various emotions, as strongly and as variously 
 as ever under harness of mail, or in a more terrible 
 strife. Through the dull and prosaic outside, and in 
 the midst of the noise and the dust, the smoke and the 
 confusion, he discerns the various important relations, 
 connections, and associations of the whole ; and the 
 gleams of light and beauty — even of grandeur and 
 sublimity, that are thus shed upon the scene. It 
 becomes as easy, perhaps more so, to understand how 
 the factory, or the railroad, or steamboat might ex- 
 cite feelings that " lie too deep for tears," as that the 
 flower should do so. 
 
 The poetry of life is the beauty of life, and its deeper 
 truth — that truth which lies beneath the surface, and 
 which, by being reflected upon and realized, gives dig- 
 nity and elevation to its common pursuits ; takes away 
 
VU1 PREFACE. 
 
 from their commonness, and renders them worthy the 
 attention of rational and immortal beings ; and by being 
 viewed in its connection with which alone, much in our 
 life becomes endurable. To discern this, wherever it 
 be, however latent, or removed from common observa- 
 tion, and to exhibit it in appropriate forms, that others 
 may likewise see it, and may be the better and happier 
 for so doing, is the appropriate business of the poet, 
 in which he will always find an ample field for the dis- 
 play of his genius and skill. With what success this 
 has been attempted in any part of the present volume, 
 is submitted to the candid judgment of the intelligent 
 reader. 
 
 March 12, 1S-W. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 A RETROSPECT, 13 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 RELIGION, 59 
 
 DEATH, 70 
 
 AMERICA, 79 
 
 THE RAILROAD, 88 
 
 THE APOTHECARY'S SHOP, 97 
 
 DISEASE, 105 
 
 DEATH OF DUROC, 107 
 
 TEMPERANCE, 110 
 
 SOUNDS OF NATURE, 115 
 
 THE TEACHER, • 117 
 
 THE FARMER, 124 
 
 THE LAWYER, ~ • • • 130 
 
 CHEAP BOOKS, 134 
 
 THE TOIL OF LIFE, 138 
 
 THE STREAMLET, • 140 
 
A RETROSPECT. 
 
A RETROSPECT 
 
 A man in his window's waning light was sitting. 
 He was not old — but shadows dark and wan, 
 Had settled on his early furrowed brow ; 
 And melancholy, sad, and brooding, sat 
 He o'er his swelling thoughts, which, gathering in 
 His gloomy mind, no peace, nor comfort, seemed 
 To give. But still more heavy grew the shade 
 Upon his brow, as on they came in deep, 
 Discolored, heaving mass — as tho' they would 
 O'erwhelm him with their dead and crushing weight. 
 The past rose up before him, with its all 
 Long buried scenes — its record black of sin, 
 And shame, of folly, sorrows, and neglect. 
 Forgotten deeds pressed in upon him now — 
 Affections blasted — talents thrown away, — 
 2 
 
14 A RETROSPECT. 
 
 Fair opportunities despised — lost friends — 
 Hearts trampled on, and broken, and all the train - 
 The dismal train — that tend on Passion's realm. 
 For he had been the child of impulse and passion ; 
 No bar had ever laid on fierce desire, 
 Impetuous will, or selfish thought, or act ; 
 But on had dashed thro' life in full career, 
 Nor heeded aught of what lay in his course ; 
 Nor rule, nor master, guide, nor check had known. 
 His own had sought, nor cared for aught beside. 
 
 But now he had stopped, had halted in his way ; 
 "Whether from weariness, or other cause, 
 Which know we not — for who can surely say 
 What impulse 't is, that guides us here or there ! 
 And turned his face back on the track passed o'er ; 
 Had cast a long and fearful, troubled glance 
 Upon the road — its chances and its risks ; 
 Upon the garb — of mind — . in which had come, 
 And that he still retained upon his soul — 
 The garb in which 't was clad of sin, and sense, 
 And brutishness — the bestial robe, which well 
 Nigh smothered it. And yet it did not quite ; 
 For the ethereal spark can never quite 
 
A RETROSPECT. 15 
 
 Go out, but yet lives on, though buried deep 
 
 In its thick ashes, through many a dark 
 
 And weary winter's night. Though all around 
 
 Be chill as death, this one warm spot remains. 
 
 And if there come a friendly breath to blow 
 
 Upon it, gently it may be fanned into 
 
 A bright and cheerful flame, whose light shall spread 
 
 Thro' all the inner man, and purify, 
 
 And cleanse the chambers of the soul, till fit 
 
 Residence it shall be for the divine, 
 
 Indwelling Spirit. God himself oft is 
 
 The minister shall guard this flame, and oft 
 
 From liim alone the breath must come, shall fan 
 
 It into life and light. Sometimes it may 
 
 Not be, till death's constraining hand has brought 
 
 It bare before his face. Compassionate 
 
 "Were man, considerate, and kind, it need 
 
 Not wait so long, and oft in vain. A kind 
 
 Regard — a gentle voice — a friendly act 
 
 Or word — though small — will oft unlock the fountains 
 
 Of the soul — break through the hard and stony rind, 
 
 Which, like the covering of the tender fruit, 
 
 Gathers around the heart, from rough contact 
 
 "With worldly coldness, selfishness, and sin — 
 
16 A RETROSPECT. 
 
 Preserving it amid the storms of life, 
 And ruder elements — and forth shall spring, 
 As from the Rock in Horeb's desert sprung 
 At wondrous touch of Moses' rod, a fresh 
 And welling stream of life's purest waters. 
 
 And now, at length, he thought. Often he had, 
 At other times, driven thought off from him, 
 As men, who fear it, do — most foolishly ! 
 For always it cannot be so ; since then, 
 If not before, 't will come, when thought is all 
 Remaining, and the more delayed, the more 
 Accumulates its undigested mass, 
 Till longer it cannot be borne, without 
 Injury to the structure of the mind. 
 But now it had seized on him past his help ; 
 And Oh ! the deep and damning bitterness 
 Of that dark retrospect ! Men talk of Hell — 
 The tortures of the damned — the burning lake 
 Of sulphurous fire, and torturing spirits — 
 Anguish of the body, which we know can ne'er 
 Take place. But Oh ! had they the power to paint 
 The untold torments of the Hell of soul — 
 The only hell there is — no need were then 
 
A RETROSPECT. 17 
 
 Of other fires to drive men to their God — 
 If driven they must be — far better led ! 
 Who would not even take all Dante's might 
 Of Genius could conceive of punishments, 
 And baleful horrors of the lower world, 
 In free exchange for a remorseful conscience — 
 This the undying worm — the unsated vulture, 
 Shall prey — not on our life — for then might be, 
 In course of time, a final close of all ; 
 But on the immortal spirit, whose anguish 
 None can bear. The criminal will oft 
 Prefer the gallows' short and sudden shrift, 
 Before the lone communion of the cell 
 Of solitude — shortsighted though it be ! 
 There is no man, who, could he but be made 
 To know and feel, that sometime he should be 
 Thrown back upon himself, with no companion 
 But his guilty thoughts, would ere transgress 
 The strict commands of God — Aye ! though they were 
 Ten times more strict than now they are. Such doom 
 So dread — inevitable — none would be 
 So bold as dare — no wretch so hardened be as not 
 To shrink aghast, at barest thought of it ; 
 And hesitate, and e'en withdraw his hand 
 2* 
 
18 A RETROSPECT. 
 
 From off the clutched gold — and this without 
 
 The dread addition some would make, there is 
 
 No end — but through Eternity's cycles 
 
 Unmeasured 't is to last — offended justice 
 
 Never have its fill. For such unbroken thought, 
 
 What man of sin for one short year would e'er 
 
 Endure ? Answer ye ! who to get rid 
 
 Of one short hour's such — in beastly cup 
 
 Your manhood drown, or waive your reason, in 
 
 The riot of swinish debauch ! Alas ! 
 
 That so we fear what is our nature's glory — 
 
 So senseless, too ; for thought can never be 
 
 So bad as fear of it. And, at bottom, 
 
 We cannot cheat ourselves even. Hence comes 
 
 The restlessness — uneasy state of him, 
 
 "Who is not with his conscience on good terms ! 
 
 'T is wiser, manlier far, like bold schoolboys, 
 
 To come, and take the flogging, if need be — 
 
 To make our peace, and be again at ease. 
 
 And now he thought of all he once had been, 
 And might have been — his early purity 
 And innocence — the happy thoughts of those 
 Bright days — Imagination's early dawn, 
 
A RETROSPECT. 19 
 
 When prospects fair and glorious, shone full 
 Before his face — ready but to be grasped ; 
 And when it seemed that nought but good could ere 
 Be his — that no dark cloud could ever shade 
 The sunlight of his day — nor blight upon 
 His ripening harvest fall — still less that sin 
 "Would ever blast him with its scorching breath, 
 Or dry the fountains of his life-blood up. 
 
 Alas ! that aught so fair as childish purity, 
 
 Should ever be exposed to aught so foul, 
 
 As much that stains the face of this fair globe — 
 
 We call corruption — evil. How can it keep 
 
 Its native spotlessness wholly unstained ? 
 
 How can the bridal white e'er touch the ground, 
 
 And not be soiled ? We scarce with deepest grief 
 
 Can mourn, when early youth is summoned home, 
 
 Before its stainless robe has been defiled, 
 
 By closer contact with the elements 
 
 Around, so rude, of sin and earthiness. 
 
 'T would be a selfish grief. For may it not 
 
 For him be better far to be thus saved 
 
 The struggle — perchance defeat and moral death — 
 
 Followed though it might be by resurrection, — 
 
20 A RETROSPECT. 
 
 Which sure awaits the man who lives, and through 
 
 The varied scenes of life's uncertain drama 
 
 Shall pass. It almost makes one sad to look 
 
 Upon a blooming youth, in fresh, full health, 
 
 And bounding life, and all so full of hope, 
 
 And joyousness, and happy mirth. 'T is like 
 
 The fair and glittering parade of soldiers 
 
 On the battle's eve. Thought glances forward 
 
 O'er the morrow's scenes, and pictures to itself 
 
 The fearful chance which there awaits all, that 
 
 Now seems so glorious. Yet 't is but a chance — 
 
 Mayhap to him the struggle might be easy ; 
 
 The prize of life be won without defeat, 
 
 Or fiercer contest than is good to give 
 
 Firm toughness to the sinews of the soul. 
 
 To some the lower nature gives a quick 
 
 And easy victory, nor troubles more 
 
 Through life — a quiet, peaceful journey. With 
 
 Others it is a constant heady fight — 
 
 From early youth, when Reason's ripeness first 
 
 Responsibility brings on, through all 
 
 Of manhood's course, till death a final close 
 
 Puts to the fierce warfare, which no other 
 
 Limit may have. Foe rises thick on foe, 
 
A RETROSPECT. 21 
 
 And as one falls another takes his place. 
 
 With fell intent, waiting a careless hour 
 
 Of sloth, or heedlessness, the united bands 
 
 Of passion, appetite, and base desire, 
 
 "With all their train of ugly attendant spirits, 
 
 The fortress of the soul beleaguer round. 
 
 Oft, friends within with foes without combined, 
 
 When look we for the first, the last instead we find. 
 
 And here we see the fearful need there is 
 
 Of right instruction to the youthful mind, 
 
 The planting of correct ideas there, 
 
 And furnishing that knowledge and that truth, 
 
 Which as armor of proof should be to him, 
 
 And weapons strong and sharp, with which to fight, 
 
 And to fend off, and guard against all evils, 
 
 Temptations strong, and trial's fiery darts, 
 
 And sorrow's sickening shafts of ill — the breath 
 
 Of malice — slander's poisoned fang, which oft 
 
 Brings on the evil it invents, by action 
 
 On the passions and feelings uncontrolled. 
 
 The child's best knowledge, and the strength of man, 
 Is in the truth respecting God, which he 
 Should always, as his mother's milk, imbibe ; 
 
22 A RETROSPECT. 
 
 And best from that same source, too, it may come. 
 
 He should be taught that here his Father — here 
 
 His ever surest friend is found, 'mid all 
 
 Life's scenes of pleasure, trial, or distress ; 
 
 That even sin's dark ways should not drive off 
 
 From Him. He should be taught that from the depth 
 
 Of degradation, and of deepest sin, 
 
 The prayer ascending from the broken heart, 
 
 Will not arise to Heaven's throne, nor draw 
 
 Some answer down — of comfort, strength, or peace ; 
 
 That help to meet their need, is ne'er refused 
 
 To those who, with their own arm to the wheel, 
 
 Attempt their wains to move, from out the sloughs, 
 
 And muddy deeps, to which they oft sink down, 
 
 When, from the path where Right and Conscience guide, 
 
 We turn aside into the devious ways, 
 
 Where pleasures lure — ambition leads us on, 
 
 Or hopes of easier, or shorter road 
 
 To the appointed end, entice us to our hurt ; 
 
 That thus they may return to those sure paths, 
 
 Where pleasantness and peace are always found. 
 
 Were God seen as he is, the heart of man, 
 Would draw and yearn toward him, as does 
 
A RETROSPECT. 23 
 
 The child to its parent with a natural 
 
 Impulse ; or as it does toward those of whom 
 
 We read, in history, or song, or tale — 
 
 Earth's good, and high, and noble ones ; or those 
 
 Heroic actors of more humble life, 
 
 We ourselves observe, and love our race, 
 
 And godlike natures all the better for. 
 
 The heart its own laws has, to which it must 
 
 Obedient ever be — its own objects, 
 
 On which, by force, its treasures it bestows, 
 
 If uncorrupted. God is of those objects, 
 
 (And so is good of every sort) but not 
 
 The God of sects, or of theology — 
 
 But Nature's God, and Revelation's God, 
 
 As rightfully interpreted — by sound 
 
 Knowledge, and reason — reason there alone, 
 
 Where most her light should shine, since there involved 
 
 Are man's best interests, denied her rights, 
 
 And made to bow subjected blind to man's — 
 
 Not God's — authority. Not thus virtue 
 
 Is gained. She never lives in health in chains ; 
 
 But pines — becomes sickly — of puny growth — 
 
 Or dies. Nor ever is she of her best 
 
 Estate, except when based on knowledge, truth, 
 
24 A RETROSPECT. 
 
 And pure religion. Are not these of God ? 
 And must they not consist together best ? 
 And then most thrive, when most in unison ? 
 
 Forth to this contest had he gone in youth, 
 Nor had he come from it unscathed — without 
 A loss to that fair purity — once his — 
 And which is native to each man at birth, 
 His Maker's richest gift to him — no fault 
 Of nature, that depravity of soul, 
 That in ourselves or others we may find ; 
 And which results but from our own defect 
 Of true obedience to His highest will, 
 And our own better nature, which by instinct, 
 To every thing prompts high and good — noble 
 And worthy for a man ; as proved by that 
 Immediate loss of self-respect, ensuing 
 Without delay, from loss of self-control, 
 Or giving up to passion, appetite, 
 Or selfishness, or sense — a mute rebuke, 
 But clear, our nature ever gives to us. 
 
 Eemembered he those days, when, one by one, 
 Life's prizes may be toiled for, grasped, secured ; 
 
A RETROSPECT. 25 
 
 Or, from a want of care, or diligence, 
 Or needful pains, be suffered, as they pass, 
 From our heedless hands to glide away. 
 Remembered he how large to him they had 
 Been offered ; how eagerly, at first, were seized. 
 How worth they seemed to him of all his toil ; 
 With what a zeal he started from the goal 
 Forth in their hot pursuit. How then to him 
 The noblest, highest, seemed the best — virtue 
 And lofty deeds of usefulness, and high 
 Beneficence to men — service of God, 
 Sought in his children's good — the truest aim, 
 The highest top ambition's eye could reach. 
 What acquisitions, then, he made of Truth, 
 And knowledge ; then, how fresh and full life was 
 Of all enjoyment, and beauty rich, to him ; 
 How gloriously clad all Nature seemed ; 
 What beauty beamed from out sun, earth, and air ; 
 How all things ministered — within — without — 
 To swell the measure of his happiness ! 
 Such the design of Heaven, which all things in 
 The complex workings of its Providence 
 Has so arranged, that he who is ever true 
 To himself, the varied powers, and the trusts — 
 3 
 
26 A RETROSPECT. 
 
 By Nature, accident, or his own act — 
 Placed in his hands ; who lives in unison, 
 And harmony with all around — with all 
 The varied laws that bind the world together ; 
 Who without trouble falls into the place, 
 And fills it well with energetic will, 
 For which he was designed, true happiness 
 And peace shall win unto himself in life — 
 The best that earth affords, combined with hopes 
 Of better yet in other scenes, beyond 
 Death's dark, but falsely dreaded bourne ! 
 
 Remembered he, too, then with bitterness 
 Too deep for words, how gradually slackened 
 His first warm zeal — how ceased the impulse strong 
 With which he had shot off — how cooled by slow 
 Degrees his early ardor — labor wearied, 
 Relaxed his energies, and palled upon 
 His palate the banquet rich, before him spread, 
 Of knowledge and improvement, which late seemed 
 As though it never could his appetite 
 So keen satiate — still more, ever disgust ; — 
 And with a slackening zeal for his true course 
 Eager desire for other vent, by which 
 
A RETROSPECT. 27 
 
 To expend the teeming energies within ; 
 
 Which once called forth, some passage out must have, 
 
 As breaks the pent up steam too much confined, 
 
 Forcing destructive vent, unless safely 
 
 Let forth. For there can hardly be repose — 
 
 Negation in man's life. 'T is down or up, 
 
 Forward or back ; if not for good, for ill 
 
 His powers are used. Idleness with itself 
 
 Soon quarrels, nor long continues such ; but back 
 
 To right employment quickly speeds a man, 
 
 Or else allures, or drives him on to some 
 
 Unholy, or questionable deed or course. 
 
 And well remembered, too, the struggles hard — 
 
 The fierce wrestlings, that with his fate he had ; 
 
 The resolutions broken, and made again ; 
 
 Broken once more, and yet again renewed 
 
 With fierce determination, resolute 
 
 That nought on earth should have the power to tempt — 
 
 And yet before temptations melted away, 
 
 As disappears the snow before the sun 
 
 Of winter's latter days, or southern blasts, 
 
 Or fire's heat — his mad despair, and rage 
 
 At his own weakness and imbecility, 
 
 That still so little power had he o'er 
 
28 A RETROSPECT. 
 
 Himself, that every trifling circumstance 
 
 Should loose the sinews of his will ; relax 
 
 His energies of self-determination ; 
 
 And leave him powerless, under control 
 
 Of every current, and chance incident, 
 
 "Which might turn him, or drift, or whirl away 
 
 From his true course, 'mid dangerous eddies, gulfs, 
 
 Or pools, where life might still be passed in one 
 
 Continuous round, circling without progress 
 
 Or change — a living death, where all which makes 
 
 Man's life, might starve and perish, become inane ; 
 
 While yet the tenement of clay remained, 
 
 And stalked abroad in grinning mockery 
 
 Of life, and still by men be called a man ! 
 
 How, then, despair bred recklessness — with loss 
 
 Of hope came apathy creeping on him, 
 
 Hopeless indifference, and carelessness. 
 
 The resolutions often broken, at length, 
 
 No more were made — the matter given up — 
 
 The helm unshipped — the compass thrown away — 
 
 The stars and charts, which warned how far his course 
 
 Was wrong, no more consulted — wind and wave 
 
 In undisputed mastery of the ship 
 
 Were left — to drive and drift it where they would. 
 
A RETROSPECT. 29 
 
 Yet not at once, nor easily was reached 
 This end, but inch by inch, and hand to hand, " 
 The ground was fought for, and disputed hard. 
 Long struggled he, and well. For what was right, 
 Well known, was deeply engraven on his heart. 
 For he had been religiously brought up. 
 A mother's love breathed warm upon his cheek 
 In youth, and poured into his opening soul 
 All pure and holiest counsel — those deep words 
 Which leave an impress on the heart, that nought 
 In life can e'er efface ; but through the rough, 
 And hard, and foul of earth, remain untouched, 
 Unstained — and oft 't is these alone which can 
 Enable us to say, this is a man, 
 When all of manhood's highest attributes 
 Else, seem to have been lost. And oft from hence 
 A spot of purity remains, which spreads,— 
 As evil in the body oft will do, — 
 Over the entire surface of the soul, 
 Alone redeeming, and cleansing it pure 
 From all its grossness. Over the dawning years 
 Of youth, with anxious care, a father, too, 
 Had watched — the expanding of the powers 
 3* 
 
30 A RETROSPECT. 
 
 And passions, all the faculties so rich — 
 
 The beauteous petals of each varied hue, 
 
 "Wrapped up within the bud of infancy ; 
 
 But needing, like that on the flower's stalk, — 
 
 That it may open to its fullest bloom, — 
 
 To be washed by the fertile dews of Heaven — 
 
 To be shone on by a warm sun of love — 
 
 To be guarded from worm, or blight, or frost — 
 
 To be fed with fit and sufficient food — 
 
 To be ne'er choked by noxious weeds, nor stones. 
 
 And when mankind shall study how to raise 
 
 The plant of human life ; and gardener's care, 
 
 "With perfect knowledge, is expended here, 
 
 As on the herbs which grace our garden borders, 
 
 The mind and heart of man, as never yet, 
 
 On earth, shall grow ; the scrubs and stunted plants, 
 
 The withered shrubs, and half developed limbs, 
 
 And knurly fruit, — of tame or bitter taste, — 
 
 The prostrate trees, and scorched or blasted trunks, 
 
 No more shall pain the eye, nor cause the heart 
 
 To sink in deep and sad despondency, 
 
 Whene'er it feels what man was meant to be, 
 
 And might be, and sees what he has been — is ; 
 
 And more than that, sees that no need there is 
 
A RETROSPECT. 31 
 
 It should be so — that were the knowledge used, 
 Which earth possesses now, and each might have, 
 He might, and would, from degradation rise, 
 And stand secure in all his native excellence. 
 
 Ignorance is the cause of most of the ills 
 Of Earth ! — the poor man's ignorance, who knows 
 Not his true wealth, nor values it aright. 
 Ignorance of the rich, who know not how 
 To use their wealth, so as to purchase that 
 To buy which only, earthly riches are 
 Of value, or fit objects of pursuit. 
 Knows not the oppressor, that it is himself 
 He wrongs the most ; the man of griping hand, 
 That 't is himself that he defrauds, when wronged — 
 By legal or illegal means — his neighbor. 
 The proud man knows not that his pride belittles, 
 And puts him far beneath those he contemns. 
 The ambitious, selfish man, knows not that he 
 His hopes of fame is striving to destroy ; 
 That, in his selfishness, he hates himself. 
 The man of pleasure, knows not that he is 
 Extinguishing his power of enjoyment ; 
 Labors hardest, striving labor to escape ; 
 
32 A EETKOSPECT. 
 
 The man who takes offence at fancied insult, 
 
 Knows not 't was of imagination born — 
 
 Of jealousy, weak pride, suspicions bred ; 
 
 Or that, if real, it best revenged itself. 
 
 Nine-tenths of all the discords, that divide 
 
 The world, poisoning and drying up life's founts ; 
 
 Belittling men, and desolating hearts, 
 
 And homes, as well as nations, knowledge would — 
 
 Often a very little — quickly dissipate. 
 
 The censurer knows not whence the thing he blames. 
 
 Its origin has had — to what it tends ; 
 
 In circumstances not to be controlled, 
 
 In good intentions born — tending to good. 
 
 We know not how to separate the man 
 
 From all his follies, faults, defects, or crimes, 
 
 And while we hate all these, himself to love, 
 
 Both for his own, and for his Maker's sake. 
 
 We know not how to put on others' acts, 
 
 The best construction possible ; and where — 
 
 As usually is found to be the case — 
 
 Are two allowable, the best to choose, 
 
 Until the worst, beyond all doubt, is proved ; 
 
 And, then, with such allowances as truth 
 
 Demands, their judgment leave to God alone — 
 
A RETROSPECT. 33 
 
 Remembering that ourselves are likewise judged. 
 
 The world knows not how oft imperfect is, 
 
 The virtue and the purity, which most 
 
 Its admiration and applause invite. 
 
 It knows not, too, how high, in sight of God, 
 
 May stand, who at its bar accused are found, 
 
 Condemned, and sentenced — hopeless of reprieve — 
 
 For sin, or crime, or basest turpitude. 
 
 God sees the heart alone. Alone he knows 
 
 The power put forth — the force of circumstance, 
 
 That modifies the measure of the guilt 
 
 Of any fault, or crime, or course condemned 
 
 By man, or laws of God. To Him, therefore, 
 
 Of right, because of power, belongs judgment. 
 
 Man seldom knows all of another's heart ; 
 
 (Almost as seldom does he know his own ;) 
 
 His inner, nor all of his outward life. 
 
 Some, all the best of themselves, keep, like gold 
 
 Of miser, locked fast up in some dark cell, 
 
 In the hidden depths of the heart, whose key they throw 
 
 Away, or keep suspended next the breast — 
 
 Like lover's keepsake never parted with. 
 
 As others are there, who, like those that keep 
 
 Their wealth in circulation, freely spent, 
 
34 A KETEOSPECT. 
 
 Attempt not to conceal their good or ill, 
 But wear their heart, all open to its depths, 
 Outside their bosom, for all to see who will. 
 As there are, too, who show but the outside, 
 "Washed clean, or fairly covered with fine clothes, 
 Like whited sepulchres, which have within 
 But rottenness, and ashes, and those wrecks — 
 Decay, that found in matter, or in mind, 
 The sense revolts at, and we strive to hide. 
 
 In His sight oft will stand the criminal, 
 In yon lone cell, whose window bars and door 
 Of iron, and walls of darkening granite gray, 
 Henceforth will be the limits of his life, 
 And daily walk and vision ; or he whose 
 Life has narrower limits still — confined 
 To one short walk, and then suspended at 
 The tree of death, at worldly justice's call — 
 These both may stand, in sight of Him who knows 
 The whole, and throws into both sides the scale 
 Of justice, all which makes the balance true, 
 Before who, in men's eyes, foremost may rank ; 
 To whom society its doors and arms 
 Widest may open ; and whom with honor loads. 
 
A RETROSPECT. 35 
 
 The poor deceived and injured one, who casts 
 Herself upon the bosom of the wave, 
 To take such mercy as she there may find — 
 Less cold to her, (chill though it be) than many 
 A breast, beneath which beats what should have been, 
 And may have been, a human heart — and might 
 Be yet again, could the cold blood be warmed, 
 The heart's hard rind be softened, and opened 
 To human sympathy, or love divine — 
 Believe ye not her reckless act, and that 
 Which led to it, will be more kindly viewed, 
 Sooner forgiven, than will be the proud 
 Man, whose vile passions made of her their sport, 
 Though without stain, his reputation stand 
 With men, and with the best his place he hold ! 
 The man who scorns his race, knows not one half 
 The virtues that redeem, and which, when known, 
 Render all scorn or hate impossible, 
 And aught but love, good will — pity, at worst. 
 The mortal knows not his immortality. 
 The child of God, knows not that he is ever 
 Encircled by the arms of paternal love ; 
 Dwells 'mid the proofs of a paternal care ; 
 Might ever lean with confidence undoubting, 
 
36 A RETROSPECT. 
 
 Upon the strength of an Almighty arm, * 
 
 Stretched out with fatherly solicitude, 
 
 To help 'mid all vicissitudes and struggles — 
 
 Trials and troubles of our earthly life. 
 
 Let man have knowledge, imbedded in his heart — 
 
 The constitution of his mind infused 
 
 With it — his acts of every kind controlled, 
 
 And regulated by it, as by force — 
 
 True knowledge — universal knowledge — such 
 
 As might be had — as all might have and should ; 
 
 And all reformer s hopes — Elysian dreams 
 
 Of heathen sage or poet — Jewish prophecies, 
 
 And Christian verities, were realized — 
 
 Paradise a^ain were won, and Earth restored 
 
 To Heaven — Earth and Heaven one again ! 
 
 Friends he had had, whose hopes were wrapped in him, 
 Whose hearts by his misconduct might be broken. 
 This well he knew, and stronger he had struggled, 
 The deeper his remorse, and self-reproach, 
 That failure was the end of all his toils ; 
 And, for a season, to his feet had risen, 
 And walked upright — though for a time only — 
 Soon staggered he, stumbled, and fell again ; 
 
A RETROSPECT. 37 
 
 And deep and deeper still, each time, went down ; 
 Nor stopped until the bottom of sin's gulf, 
 Through every stage had reached, and tasted he 
 Of every draught of bitter sweet it has ; 
 Till he had steeped himself, from foot to crown, 
 In all its dirtiest, foulest, muddy waters. 
 
 Oh ! 't is a fearful thing to look upon ! 
 A sight to shake the nerves ! to wring the soul ! 
 A strong man struggling in the toils of sin, 
 Or pleasure's silken folds, or indolence, — 
 Which all the thews and sinews of the soul 
 Relaxes, and makes powerless the will, — 
 And seeing plain before him spread the death 
 Of all which makes man's life — the wretchedness, 
 Ruin, and misery, that sure awaits, 
 Yet, like the fly fast in the spider's web, 
 Unable to resist the fate, which drives, 
 With open eyes, over the precipice, 
 Into the fearful boiling gulf below — 
 The jaws of death wide open to receive ! 
 Oh ! 't is a fearful thing to think upon ! 
 
 Then was a dark, confused, chaotic dream, 
 4 
 
38 A RETROSPECT. 
 
 Full of all horrid visions, teeming dread, 
 
 When drove his bark before the wind and storm, 
 
 At mercy of each wave, and current strong ; 
 
 When passion, impulse, feeling, self and sense, 
 
 Lifted him from the ground, and bore along 
 
 Helpless and unresisting as a child ; 
 
 When rode he with heavy heel, o'er all the hearts 
 
 Trampling, of those who most cared for his weal — 
 
 Parents, and all, whose hopes bound up in him, 
 
 Were rudely disappointed, scattered wide 
 
 To all the blasts of Heaven's winds and storms. 
 
 A mother's tears — a father's silent sorrow — 
 
 A sister's cup of life embittered deep. 
 
 Instead of gladness, joy, and happiness — 
 
 A brighter light to their day's sun ; a dart 
 
 To pierce their souls with lingering agony — 
 
 A shadow — a heavy cloud — a storm to break 
 
 The peace, and quiet stillness of their day ; 
 
 A mother's grave slowly but surely dug ! 
 
 A father's head in bitterness bowed down ! 
 
 A worm preying upon a sister's bloom ! 
 
 A brother cheated of a brother's love ! 
 
 A canker at the heart of a home's happiness ! 
 
 All these pressed vividly upon his vision. 
 
A RETROSPECT. 39 
 
 Like a forgotten, troubled dream, dimly- 
 Recalled the eager, hot pursuit of pleasure ; 
 The restless rushing after new delights, 
 Which yielded not delight — only drowned thought. 
 The reckless disregard of self respect ; 
 All care for decency, and character 
 Forgot, or scorned ; mocked all which man respects, 
 And loves — the lower nature's sway complete 
 Secured, with all the dreadful train of horrors, 
 On which e'en to repletion he had supped. 
 Remembered were those nights of agony, 
 Of wrestling, restless, tossing wretchedness, 
 When miserable tears his pillow drenched, 
 And sobbing, broken-hearted, faithless prayer, 
 Was forced from the deeply stirred depths of his soul, 
 And horrid faces full of dark despair, 
 Stared grinningly upon his countenance ; 
 Those burning hours, too, when tears came not — 
 But dried their fountains seemed, as throbbed the pulse, 
 As streams of molten lead thro' the hot veins ! 
 
 Madly he started from his seat, as sights 
 Like these, pressed on before his fancy's eye ; 
 His clenched hands dashed upon his burning brow, 
 
40 A RETROSPECT. 
 
 As though to drive away such hideous thought ; 
 While reason reeled, and on its throne tottered, 
 Seeming as it could hardly stand such shock. 
 Fiercely he threw himself upon the ground, 
 With groans of bitterest despair and horror ; 
 With terrible intenseness realized, 
 In one short moment, all a misspent life. 
 It seemed as though the lowest deep of hell, 
 The hottest corner of the fiery furnace 
 Fabled — the centre of the burning lake — 
 The most refined of torturing spirits' torments — 
 The everlasting fire — undying worm — 
 Were all too little for his damning sin ! 
 Eternity seemed all too short, in which 
 To expiate what now appeared to him, 
 The fearfullest guilt the sun ere shone upon, 
 Beyond the reach of pardon or repair ! 
 
 Oh ! let men realize beforehand, that such hours 
 With certainty await them on sin's paths, 
 And like the pestilence, they soon were shunned, 
 Thickly with flowers though they seemed bestrewn ; 
 And on the narrow road — altho' close set 
 With thorns and flinty rocks — such thronging crowds 
 
A RETROSPECT. 41 
 
 "Would thickly press, that all its narrow bounds 
 Were soon filled up with one firm mass of souls, 
 All pressing on to storm the heights of Heaven ; 
 In massive, solid column, resistless way 
 Forcing through gates, and o'er the flanking walls. 
 
 But gradually gentler thoughts stole o'er 
 His mind — exhausted the fierceness of despair — 
 Reason o'er feeling gradually regained 
 Her just ascendancy. The vivid view, 
 That had o'ercome him, of the past, grew less 
 Intense ; its colors paled ; and dimmer became 
 The light so hot and fierce, which burnt his brain, 
 To be regarded with a steadier eye. 
 And with the Past, the Future blended, too ; 
 The Past beyond his reach — the Future his, 
 To make of it what a strong will might choose ! 
 Eternity ne'er wholly spoiled by acts 
 That reach but over part of Time — nor all. 
 One portion of our life can ne'er destroy 
 Entirely another — childhood, youth ; 
 Youth, manhood : nor, that bounded by the grave, 
 The endless course that stretches out beyond. 
 Although, conducted on false principles, 
 4* 
 
42 A RETROSPECT. 
 
 One throws a shadow, more or less in depth 
 
 Or length, on those which may succeed, — how far 
 
 To extend — how deep a shade to cast — He knows 
 
 Alone, who sees the past, and all to come, — 
 
 Yet plainly has He taught us in His word, 
 
 That man can never sink so low on earth — 
 
 So long can never wallow in its mire — 
 
 That worth his while it may not be to rise, 
 
 Cost him what suffering, pains, or care it may. 
 
 "What boots it what is past, so long as still 
 
 Before Eternity stretches along ! 
 
 What is a moment to our mortal life ? 
 
 Yet less the ratio by infinity 
 
 Of all the longest life of man on earth 
 
 To that on which the soul enters at death — 
 
 Such starting point has common language fixed 
 
 (So view we all things with an earthly eye) 
 
 For the race, which, truly viewed, begins at birth ! 
 
 Death and birth ! To the Omniscient's eye 
 
 But one point in the abyss of time ! 
 
 To His the distance separating them, 
 
 As imperceptible as to our eyes, 
 
 The distance that divides two stars, which side 
 
 By side seem spangling in the infinite blue, 
 
A RETROSPECT. 43 
 
 Although, perchance, between them intervenes, 
 
 A space as large as that which separates 
 
 The nearest from our own dependent ball ! 
 
 And who shall dare to limit to the bounds 
 
 Of this small point — to us seeming so wide — 
 
 The boundless mercy of a Father's love, 
 
 Or say the sinner's hope of pardon ends, 
 
 When falls apart the miserable clay — 
 
 Whose weight, perchance, has sunk him to the earth, 
 
 When willingly his soul had soared on high ! 
 
 Erewhile, a Purgatory was allowed, 
 
 Where earth-contracted stains might be washed out 
 
 From the soiled soul, aided by earthly tears, 
 
 And prayers, and holy offering, 't was deemed ; 
 
 And by the blood of the Holy Crucified. 
 
 But now, all hope beyond the grave denied, 
 
 A barrier there is placed to the Divine 
 
 Prerogative, to endless tortures each 
 
 At death condemned, or else to endless joys ! 
 
 Torments and joys, each one can only share, 
 
 As in himself capacity for either 
 
 He carries with him, as he leaves the earth — 
 
 Capacities that who shall say change not 
 
 Elsewhere ? Sin is its own worst punishment 
 
44 A RETROSPECT. 
 
 From which it ne'er escapes : a punishment, — 
 
 Like all, I ween, under paternal rule, — 
 
 "Whose object is Reform, and that alone ; 
 
 When this accomplished, all its end attained ; 
 
 Then ceasing, though its consequences reach 
 
 Far distant — mental, moral, physical — 
 
 Into the future ; thus only, perchance, 
 
 The worm undying — fire everlasting ! 
 
 Since never may the soul, in future bliss, 
 
 Cast back its eye upon past sin, without 
 
 Sharp pangs of deep remorse — remorse quickened 
 
 By higher light, and deeper consciousness, 
 
 And vivid sense, of Sin's deformity — 
 
 E'en though diminished by the lapse of time. 
 
 And who shall ever say there 's no reform 
 
 Beyond the grave ? Perchance then only comes 
 
 The light which makes improvement possible ! 
 
 The knowledge that gives power over sense ! 
 
 The truth which makes man free, and strong, and pure ! 
 
 The truth was taught by Christ, but which few have — 
 
 Still fewer in its native purity, 
 
 Undimmed, and uncorrupted by man's works ; 
 
 When only is it powerful — mighty 
 
 To batter down the walls of earthly ill ! 
 
A RETROSPECT. 45 
 
 Perchance, then, only, may be the beauty seen 
 Of purity and virtue — then alone 
 It may be, seen at all, or known to be. 
 For dens there are amid earth's lower haunts 
 Where men are born, brought up, and live, nor see 
 Nor know, of aught but what is base and foul ! 
 Evil is all their good, though not of choice — 
 But of a dark and stern necessity, 
 Which writes a falsehood on the nation's name, 
 That calls itself Christian, where such things be ! 
 'T were worthier far, instead of shutting out 
 From such God's mercy, with presumption bold, 
 To see to it that such there be no more, 
 As there were not, were Christ but truly preached — 
 His truth, and love, and human brotherhood, 
 Not the absurd or doubtful speculations, 
 Which often have made void the truth he taught ! 
 One sometimes almost deems that Earth and Man 
 Were hardly worth the care their Maker takes 
 Of them, so gross and low they are ! Since e'en 
 Divinest things are sullied by their touch ; 
 And plainest things become obscure, passing 
 Through dull, distorted, earthly eyes ; 
 
46 A RETROSPECT. 
 
 And fairest beauty is defiled and stained ! 
 
 Were virtue and all good and holy things 
 
 As close attendants as their opposites 
 
 Too often are on man — as readily 
 
 Obtained — more often would his better self 
 
 Assert itself. For seldom is vice loved, 
 
 Or evil, e'en by those who most pursue. 
 
 And were both good and ill before him placed, 
 
 In their own guise arrayed, but one choice would 
 
 He often freely make. Those hate the most, 
 
 Who likewise know sin's devious ways the best ! 
 
 Men know not how to treat a fallen man — 
 For all men are not fallen, as some say. 
 Not with the censure that repels — none knows 
 His fault so well as he himself, nor hates 
 It more — nor fierce denunciation that 
 Often but hardens, rouses pride, drives back ; 
 Or pushes off the hopeful hand once laid 
 Again by failing swimmer on the edge 
 Of Life's frail bark, or Eternity's firm shore ! 
 Nor with the pity that degrades, cold scorn — 
 Still less with ridicule, or jest, or jeer ! 
 But with true kindness, sympathy, and love, 
 
A RETROSPECT. 47 
 
 That changes not its face, because a cloud 
 
 Has, for a season, crossed a brother's heart, 
 
 Virtue, or hope, such as may come o'er all ! x 
 
 But hopefully looks forward to the time, 
 
 When to himself he will come back ; as most 
 
 Will do, who have a friend to hope for them, 
 
 Even when no longer hope they for themselves ; 
 
 As who has not above, if not below ! 
 
 Sin is but a disease, for which ofttimes 
 
 The sufferer as little accountable 
 
 May be, as for the fever which lays waste 
 
 The body's strength ; as little meriting 
 
 The treatment it too often has received 
 
 At the world's hands, as does the insane man chains, 
 
 Or stripes, harsh words, or cruel abandonment. 
 
 Such treatment does but aggravate the ill ; 
 
 Its cure postpone, or finally prevent. 
 
 Disease, whose consequences reach beyond 
 
 The narrow bourne at which the body stops, 
 
 Scarce needs less skill, wide knowledge, gentle care, 
 
 To treat aright — sound health bring back again 
 
 To mind and heart — than do the ills which rack 
 
 The frame of wondrous mechanism, which holds, — 
 
 Sustaining how we know not, — this strange soul, 
 
48 A RETROSPECT. 
 
 With all its delicate and complex organism — 
 
 More easily deranged — restored with less 
 
 Of ease ; as is an harp of hundred strings 
 
 Hardly in perfect harmony maintained. 
 
 Of Him whom Heaven sent unto our race, 
 
 A model of each virtue that can grace 
 
 Our life or nature, hither should we turn, 
 
 How to treat man from virtue fallen, to learn ! — 
 
 His kind consideration, gentleness 
 
 To see — his words of love and power, so rich to bless ! 
 
 Times in the life of nearly all there are, 
 When all the indulgence of their warmest friends. 
 They need to have extended to them, while 
 They struggle hard within themselves, wrestling 
 With passions fierce, and desolating thoughts, 
 Desponding doubts, and dread misgivings dark ; 
 That wrench and rack, and wildly toss the soul, 
 As, on the stormy wave, the tempest drives 
 The tossing ship with maddened rage ; and tries 
 The strength of every plank, and spar, and sail ; 
 When many a goodly prize and strong goes down, 
 Her timbers racked to pieces, or else driven 
 On hidden rock, or unpropitious coast. 
 
A RETROSPECT. 49 
 
 E'en so, is many a shaken soul all torn 
 Apart, or shivered on Temptation's rock, 
 Or drifted helplessly upon the shoals 
 Of dreaming, sluggish, hopeless indolence. 
 The outer life gives token of the storm 
 Within ; and waywardness, and petulance, 
 And often childish loss of self-control, 
 Impatience, and self-will, repel all those 
 Whose friendship is not grounded deep in love 
 Sincere, or Christian charity and hope ; 
 Or bound by ties of kindred, or that deep 
 Affection, which, once known in all its depth, 
 Unkindness scarce can kill, nor coldness blight, 
 Nor mortal thing root out from its firm hold 
 In the rich soil of woman's warmer heart. 
 Hard with the man or woman who has naught 
 Of these to lean upon in life's dark days, 
 It goes ! — whom only worldly kindness cares for ! 
 Unless a more than mortal love, to lean 
 The trust upon, faith can point out, the odds 
 Are fearfully against them laid. Alas ! 
 That e'er a human soul should pine or die, 
 For want of that which man so easily 
 Can give — kind sympathy, forbearance, love, 
 5 
 
50 A RETROSPECT. 
 
 And charity for faults that all must have ; 
 Gentle compassion, more than stern reproof 
 Or cold contempt, for failings all may know ; 
 And which themselves are punishment enough 
 To him that knows, and feels, and deeply mourns 
 His loss of manhood in his lower nature's rule ! 
 Man ne'er was meant to be man's judge, nor yet 
 God's executioner, which He in each 
 One's breast has stationed — sure to do his work. 
 
 The Retrospect was o'er. He rose from it 
 An altered man. His heart, his hope was changed 
 So deeply had it wrought in one short hour 
 Upon his soul. In secret solitude 
 He bowed his heart humbly before his God. 
 In secret was his prayer of penitence 
 Heard by a God — of mercy as of power — 
 And to the heaven of forgiven sin, 
 With welcome glad, a wanderer was received ; 
 While joy increased among the spirits above, 
 That once again, among the sons of earth, 
 Who from their true well-being had departed, 
 Another to true manhood had come back. 
 
A RETROSPECT. 51 
 
 Man shrinks from bowing down himself before 
 
 His fellow men — of passions like his own ; 
 
 But before God ! 'T were weakness, not just pride ! 
 
 And from that hour — though many a struggle hard 
 
 With appetite and passion waited him — 
 
 His lower nature loth to lose its power ; 
 
 And many a bitter hour of self-disgust, 
 
 And self-abasement deep — the bitterest cup 
 
 Of all the bitter draughts the sinner drinks ; 
 
 (The momentary pleasure of the palate 
 
 Scarce worth, as one would deem, the nauseous drugs 
 
 Needful to bring the system back to that 
 
 Pure health Excess may find, but never leaves ;) 
 
 Our pride — if not our self-respect — may shield 
 
 Us from the power of other men's contempt ; 
 
 But for the loathing of our inmost selves, 
 
 For self-contempt, there is no antidote — 
 
 Nor any escape, but in the cause removed ! — 
 
 And though there settled deep on him, at times, 
 
 The heavy clouds of dark despondency 
 
 And melancholy, as dreary visions 
 
 Of his past life rose up before his mind, 
 
 And crowded o'er his heated brain ; and Conscience, 
 
 Now alive and quickened to her duty, 
 
52 A RETROSPECT. 
 
 Scorched him with thoughts, before whose burning heat 
 
 Hell fires were pale and cool, and fancied horrors, 
 
 "Which gnawed — piercing into his very vitals — 
 
 "With agony as ne'er the undying worm ; 
 
 Yet these and all he bore, and struggled on ; 
 
 Nor sunk again into the sloughs whence he 
 
 Had risen, but still up and on he fared ; 
 
 The heights of virtue, one by one, he gained. 
 
 His self-respect came back to him once more ; 
 
 And peace possession of his breast, and hope, 
 
 And all good thoughts and feelings, daily more 
 
 Firmly took and held. Order to his thoughts 
 
 Came back. Blessed thoughts of childhood's days, at times, 
 
 Flitted, like pleasant dreams, across his mind, 
 
 Refreshing as sea breeze on sultry day ; 
 
 Or draught of water cool to parching lips ; 
 
 Or fresh air in the sick man's chamber close ; 
 
 Giving fair prospect of the brighter day, 
 
 "When such visions should be realities, 
 
 And childhood's purity with manhood's wisdom, 
 
 And maturity of all the powers, 
 
 Uniting, early freshness of the heart, 
 
 Combined with that experience years alone, 
 
 And knowledge, and wide mixing with mankind 
 
A RETROSPECT. 53 
 
 Can give, maintain its place without danger 
 That ever it should be again dethroned ; 
 Or lose its genial influence in the breast ; 
 As oft it does, for seasons, when, at first, 
 Knowledge of evil shakes the faith in Good. 
 Most never wholly win it back again ; 
 Though 't is within the reach of all to do. 
 
 He who believes that Infinite Goodness reigns 
 O'er all, can hardly doubt its final triumph — 
 Dark though the prospect be, where he can ken. 
 Though darkened must the eye that watches be ; 
 Or narrowest must be its field of view ; 
 Or smallest be its penetrating power, 
 With which to scan beneath the outside show ; 
 If more of good than ill, be not discerned 
 'Mid the varied allotments of man's life ; 
 And if the bounds of good cannot be seen 
 Gradually on those of ill to encroach — 
 A slow, but sure and steady progress traced, — 
 Its speed accelerating with advance, — 
 From the first day when light dawned on the world — 
 Bright rising over Sion's sacred mount — 
 Till now, when needs it not Omniscient eye, 
 5* 
 
54 A RETROSPECT. 
 
 To see that causes hard at work there are, 
 In whose effects — as certain as themselves — 
 Far distant in the future though they lie, 
 Sin with its evils finally must vanish, 
 And Misery and Wretchedness no more 
 Sicken the heart, and blight the bloom of life, 
 Alike to those on whom they heaviest fall, 
 And those who feel a brother's sympathy 
 For sufferings that they themselves know not, 
 Except as seen to be another's burden, 
 Which friendly sharing might, perchance, lighten ■ 
 The ills of earth, divided even, light ! 
 
 The Man who on Judea's hills and plains, 
 First taught mankind an heavenly Parent's love, 
 Proclaimed the purpose of our mortal life, 
 Connecting it by bonds indissoluble 
 With one, ever to last, beyond the grave ; 
 Taught likewise by the same authority, 
 That, though until the eleventh hour men 
 Their duty had postponed, their service then 
 Would be accepted by the Lord of all ; 
 Nor fail the promised rich reward to gain, 
 The happiness virtue alone can give, 
 
A RETROSPECT. 55 
 
 And conscious sense of duties well discharged ; 
 
 The peace that flows from sense of His approval, 
 
 Whose approbation cannot well be spared, 
 
 And life's best satisfactions be retained ; 
 
 The enjoyments flowing from our powers well used, 
 
 Affections warm and pure, rightly bestowed — 
 
 Their only objects, all things good and fair ; 
 
 Relief from all the weary weight our sins 
 
 Unpardoned hang upon the neck of life, 
 
 And its enjoyments — poisoned at their source, 
 
 When thus the heart at variance with Him — 
 
 His will derided — disobeyed His laws, 
 
 For His will and laws man's happiness regard, 
 
 Ordaining Virtue's strictest law — good will 
 
 To all below, and love to Him above ; 
 
 Because when only obedient to the laws 
 
 Of virtue and of love, the ends for which 
 
 Being to man was given, and the world 
 
 Of wondrous loveliness about him spread, — 
 
 Adapted to call forth and gratify 
 
 Each faculty and sense, — can be attained ; 
 
 And in his creatures' happiness and peace, 
 
 The Creator be both pleased and glorified. 
 

 MISCELLANEOUS 
 
 
 I 
 
RELIGION. 
 
 Religion — Heaven's fairest child — noble 
 In form, of gracious mien, amid the din 
 Of warring sects, and strife of parties fierce, 
 Her native glory, and her beauty true, 
 Has well nigh lost — so rudely has she suffered, 
 In word and deed, ungracious and unkind. 
 With sorrow and disgust, does she withdraw 
 From 'mid the storm of human passion, folly 
 And ill will, aside, and stand aloof, 
 Regarding with aspect severe and grave, 
 And mournful eye, her votaries pretended, 
 Who, with a zeal intemperate, having snatched 
 A fragment from her vesture, with borrowed light, 
 Some favorite idol of their own thus clothe ; 
 And under this false guise, unto the world, 
 Present, as Heaven's fair visitant Herself. 
 Which, while deceived, at first, some will accept ; 
 
60 RELIGION. 
 
 Others, the deception clearly seeing through, 
 With deep suspicion, look upon henceforth, 
 All that may wear her garb, e'en though herself, 
 In truth, it chance to be — glad though they were, 
 To welcome her, were they but sure 't were her. 
 But though withdrawn aside, to those who seek 
 Her where she is, easy is she to be found ; 
 Nor does her light from any sincere man 
 Withhold, who in humility shall seek. 
 And those who see her once, will go again 
 And yet again will strive to see her face, 
 Until her features are by heart well known, 
 That dupes they never may be made again, 
 To foul impostor, or to forger base — 
 Forgers in sacred things most base of all ! 
 But though it cost them all they have in life, 
 Their fixed abode they will with her take up, 
 Nor run the risk to lose her light again. 
 
 How shall we separate the true and false ? 
 Where is the test, by which to try all shows ? 
 The Ithuriel spear, at touch of which, disguise, 
 And outward mask, and covering shall fall off, 
 And each in its own lineaments only stand ? 
 
RELIGION. 61 
 
 God is our Father ! this contains the whole — 
 The sum and substance of Religious Truth ! 
 In this is all Theology summed up ! 
 With this begins — with this all teaching ends, 
 To make men see, believe, and act upon 
 This truth ; to feel it in its beautiful 
 Simplicity — wide comprehensiveness, 
 And all embracing loveliness and power ! 
 And men are brethren of one family, 
 Deserving each at other's hand — though small 
 It be — some token of fraternity, 
 By act, or word, or thought of sympathy ! 
 
 True ! act or word of ours but few may reach 
 Of all our race. Yet thus we touch more than 
 "We might suppose. Kind words and acts, rightiy 
 Bestowed, are instruments of wide-spread power. 
 Here woman weighty weapons in the war 
 Of life, may wield. Nor ends our influence 
 With those who first experience it, but still, 
 Through them, to many more is passed along ; 
 And after times, and generations yet 
 Unborn, the effects our deeds and lives have wrought, 
 May feel, with blessings or with maledictions. 
 6 
 
62 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 Who can the power fully estimate, 
 
 The parent through a family exerts 
 
 Upon mankind, for good or ill ! Our lives 
 
 An effluence shed around, which penetrates, 
 
 And subtilely infuses into those 
 
 Of other men. We leave our mark, for ill 
 
 Or good, on most with whom we daily come 
 
 In contact. Principles and habits stamp 
 
 Themselves on all around. They are imbibed — 
 
 Drunk in, as is the common atmosphere. 
 
 Hence doubly damned is vice — virtue twice blessed. 
 
 A vigorous, active mind, the intellects 
 
 Of all around will quicken and illume. 
 
 Great men have oft infused themselves into 
 
 Their nation and their age ; and deep have left 
 
 Their minds and hearts in its destiny engraven. 
 
 And many an one of lesser note, of whom 
 
 The world hears not, although it feels — nor knows 
 
 "Whence comes — the influence thence diffused abroad. 
 
 Washington, too, and Franklin but small part 
 
 Of all their influence on their country's weal, 
 
 Within the span of their short day comprised ; 
 
 But, as the expanding circles on the lake, 
 
 Shall swell with growing time, the widening power 
 
RELIGION. 
 
 Of their great lives ; from which millions unborn, 
 Encouragement and impulse to all effort 
 For excellence, and virtue high, shall gain. 
 Each weaves himself as a component part, 
 Into his age's, race's, country's fate. 
 
 Hence, every city, town, village and hamlet, 
 
 The impress bears upon its face of those, 
 
 Who stand the first in its counsels or regards — 
 
 Preeminent for powers, or wealth, or culture. 
 
 We read it on its outward face — but more 
 
 In the inner life — the minds and hearts of those, 
 
 Who there pursue their daily way of life. 
 
 The clergyman's whole character tells on 
 
 His congregation with a strong effect ; 
 
 And neutralizes, or makes atonement for, 
 
 Much good, or want of it, his weekly preaching may 
 
 Contain ; — much truth it may destroy — falsehood 
 
 May counteract. Thus his kind heart, often, 
 
 And ready sympathy, the lie will give 
 
 To his theology — proved by his own 
 
 Example false — its ill effects thus, too, 
 
 On others' minds and hearts allayed. So may 
 
 He blacken o'er opinions true by false 
 
 63 
 
64 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 Conduct. By passions bad, and manners harsh, 
 The Love he teaches may be nullified — 
 The Love he teaches not by word — in act 
 And thought of daily life, may with more power, 
 Than e'er by other eloquence, be taught. 
 The good physician, what a blessing is 
 He to his neighborhood ! The lawyer, too, 
 Upright and just, who makes a blessing — not 
 A curse — the power his higher knowledge gives 
 Him o'er his neighbours' goods and happiness ! 
 Each occupation, well performed, spreads good 
 Abroad. Man thus — each in his sphere — with God 
 Cooperates, the stock of happiness 
 And human joy on earth to multiply. 
 
 Fountains there are of life in every man, 
 That sympathy and kindly feeling can 
 Alone unseal, and let their waters forth, 
 To fertilize the gardens of the soul — 
 Which dry, become barren, and parched, if thus 
 They never are refreshed. He who is cold, 
 Hard hearted, selfish, proud, ambitious — 
 Who has no feeling for his fellow-men, 
 Regard for virtue, or for right — who does 
 
RELIGION. 65 
 
 No deed, nor thinks a thought, nor speaks a word, 
 Of generous, true-hearted sympathy, 
 To those, 'mid whom his daily steps are trod ; 
 Whose mind, shut up within its shell of pride, 
 Or cold indifference to those around, - 
 Ne'er spends its treasures, nor exchanges them 
 "With other men, in friendly interchange 
 Of thought, or kindly feeling or regard — 
 An uncongenial atmosphere begets, 
 Which stints and blights the growth of all the fair 
 And pleasant charities, that grace, adorn, 
 And beautify the dark and rougher surface 
 Of our daily life — prevents the better 
 Qualities of man from reaching their full growth, 
 And bringing forth the blossoms rich and rare, 
 And choicer fruits, to which their nature prompts. 
 Each quality begets its like — love, love, 
 And hate, too, hate — and so through all the scale 
 Of virtues and of vice. The good and pure 
 Man, from his life sends streams of rich fertility, 
 That water o'er his neighbors' lives ; and, like 
 The fertilizing mud which Egypt's stream 
 Spreads o'er its plains, oft double their increase ; 
 The barren field, and sandy soil refresh ; 
 6* 
 
66 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 And flowers of beauty bid upon their banks 
 To grow, where else were nought but ugly weeds, 
 Or noxious plants, or pebbles hard and rough. 
 Yet though our widest range of influence may 
 But few of all our brethren here embrace, 
 The disposition in our minds may still 
 Inhere — the kind good will embracing all — 
 Shedding its sunlight o'er the hidden chambers 
 Of our own souls — ourselves, if no one else, 
 Blessing with Heaven's highest, best rewards. 
 
 Religion seems to some to be enshrined 
 Only in solemn face — gloomy or sad — 
 Which never dares or brooks a laugh, or smile, 
 Or jest, or lively sally, to beguile 
 An hour of ennui, or of weariness ; 
 But still its rigid feature would maintain, 
 Though Wit, Humor, and Jest its firmness try ; 
 Nor gives a smile — though Laughter shake her sides, 
 And Cheerfulness o'er all may brightly reign ! 
 A dark and leaden hue o'er Life to cast, 
 And be the heaviest of its heavy loads ; 
 Instead of what 't was meant to be, and what 
 Its Author stamped it on its brow — the joy, 
 
RELIGION. 67 
 
 Alleviation, and supporter sure 
 Of man's short span — his best possession here, 
 And that which would him surely stand in stead, 
 When Death should open to his doubting step 
 Those other realms, o'er which Life still will lead 
 Him on, through ages that shall find no end. 
 
 Others, again, the name associate still 
 With outward observance of days and forms, 
 And rites, and shows, and public services 
 Of God in holy place, and solemn time — 
 That only in a church its spirit dwells, 
 Or loves to dwell, or on the sabbath day 
 Is seen to be abroad ; — nor e'er is found 
 On other days, in market, counting-room, 
 Exchange, or store, workshop or public place, 
 Where men for gain or business may meet ; 
 Or mid the daily round of household cares — 
 Social enjoyments of the cheerful home, 
 Where labor lays aside its weary pack, 
 And rests its eye with glimpse of Life's brighter 
 Aspect — by happy fireside, and circle dear, 
 And the worn spirit gathers vigor fresh, 
 To meet its daily strife of toil and care. 
 
68 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 Still less they deem it e'er may find a place 
 At dance, or concert, theatre, or show, 
 Where men and maidens — old and young — collect, 
 To shake from off their burdened spirits awhile 
 The weights of care — the loads of life, that press 
 With crushing and distorting power on those, 
 Who never may their packs unbind — unstring 
 The sinews, bent too long to tightest tension. 
 
 Others, again, would bind her in a creed — 
 Would fetter her free limbs with shackles forged 
 By human pride, passion, philosophy, 
 Or dogmatism — folly or ignorance ; 
 Nor think but in opinions clad — and those 
 Their own — with seemliness she can appear, 
 E'en if without them she can e'er be found. 
 
 But both in sober and in cheerful guise — 
 On Sunday, and upon each other day — 
 In church, and every other place, where man 
 His way of life pursues — mid every hue 
 And shade of varying opinions, wide 
 As opposing poles though they may separate — 
 Religion true is found. Where'er its spirit — 
 
RELIGION. 69 
 
 Of love — is seen ; where'er a generous act 
 
 Of virtue is disinterestedly 
 
 Performed — a word of kindness in good time 
 
 Is spoken — high thought conceived or acted out — 
 
 Where pleasure innocently is bestowed — 
 
 Where'er a heart is lifted up, crushed down 
 
 To earth by sorrow, pain, or heavy care — 
 
 Where grateful thoughts from humble hearts aspire 
 
 To Heaven, for favors at its hand received, 
 
 Or head is bowed, resigned to its decrees ; 
 
 Where'er are powers, well trained, rightly employed ; 
 
 Where'er the heart rests on a Father's love 
 
 As does the child upon its mother's breast, 
 
 With deep confiding trust — unwavering love ; 
 
 Where'er Man's heart is warm — his head is true 
 
 To Virtue, Truth, himself, and to his race — 
 
 There is Religion pure — for there true men 
 
 Are found — there God is served, obeyed, aright ! 
 
DEATH. 
 
 Why grieve we for the dead ? Why clothe ourselves 
 In solemn weeds of mournful black, when home 
 To other worlds are called — life's labors o'er — 
 Those whom we love and honor here ? Why sad, 
 And clad with heavy gloom the countenance ? 
 "Why fall the tears from aching eyes ? And why 
 In groans of bursting agony break forth 
 The feelings from the overcharged heart ? 
 Not surely for the dead ! For them who would 
 Not rather with his soul rejoice, that now 
 No longer laden with the heavy load 
 Of fleshly ills, and cares, and weary pains, 
 That here its upward aspirations clog ; 
 No longer draggled with the vapors foul, 
 And mists, and miry exhalations that 
 Arise, and check its flight on earth, the pure 
 Spirit shakes its pinions free, and sports 
 In joyous liberty and light ; in fairer realms 
 
DEATH. 71 
 
 Expands at once to higher growth ; its powers 
 
 Puts forth, untrammeled now, more freely ; knowledge 
 
 In larger draughts drinks in ; without alloy 
 
 Or check, in fuller love, flings out its pure 
 
 Affections' tendrils, rudely disappointed 
 
 Of their eager grasp no more, nor torn 
 
 Asunder by ungracious, careless hand ; 
 
 Where falls no blight on hope, nor mildew on 
 
 Our promised happiness ; where earthly joys 
 
 Are all more full, and to them added stores, 
 
 Such as below we scarce may chance to know ! 
 
 Oh, no ! The dead need not our tears or pity ! 
 But rather should we not raise to them, then, 
 Anthems of glad congratulation loud, 
 And sympathy at their more happy state ? 
 And greet in robes of light and festal joy, 
 The summons that calls some whom here we love 
 To those unknown shores, where pain, nor sorrow, doubt, 
 Nor anxious -questionings, nor dread, shall hang 
 Their weights of leaden care upon the heart ; 
 Nor body's pains the spirit's blessedness 
 Alloy ? Then for ourselves alone we mourn — 
 A selfish grief, though not without excuse, 
 
72 ^ MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 So 't is without unnatural excess. 
 
 For 't is, indeed, a grievous thing and sad, 
 
 And hard for us to think upon — to part, 
 
 Though for a time only, with those much loved, 
 
 And long endeared by ties of nature, worth, 
 
 And well-tried friendship — whose whole web of life 
 
 Was woven into our own with thousand soft 
 
 And silken threads of love, that colored o'er 
 
 "With fairer tints, and gentler beauty, its whole 
 
 Texture — which of its perfect wholeness will 
 
 Henceforth be robbed. Within will sink the heart 
 
 With sickening sensation, as the thought 
 
 Comes o'er the mind with realizing sense, 
 
 That no more shall our eyes, or ear, or heart, 
 
 Be cheered with sight of well-known face, or sound 
 
 Of much loved voice — the smile, or word of sympathy, 
 
 Which chased the gloom from off our brow, dispelled 
 
 The mists of care, despondency, and doubt, 
 
 Which sometimes gather o'er our darkened minds. — 
 
 No more the word of kind counsel be heard, 
 
 Which helped to clear Life's dark perplexities. 
 
 There is an aching void, as from our side 
 We miss the well-known form — the step no more 
 
DEATH. 73 
 
 Is heard, which ushered light and pleasant joy 
 
 Upon our solitude — a sense of pain, 
 
 That still will hang upon the mind, and call 
 
 It back — to make it feel anew its loss. 
 
 We cannot help but mourn ; and well it is 
 
 To let the full tide forth, and uncontrolled 
 
 Have way — relieve the pent-up heart, which else 
 
 Might break — a pleasure sad it is ! 
 
 Yet why 
 More than when, on a distant journey bound 
 To foreign land, or home remote, we take 
 Our leave of friends ? The separation may 
 Not be so long — nor is more sure. The grave 
 Divides us from the dead scarce more than sea, 
 Or ocean wide, or continent between, 
 Divides us from each other, while alive. 
 The poor and isolated sojourner 
 In Western solitudes, as little to friends 
 In Eastern home may be, for aught of love, 
 Or intercourse, or friendly interchange 
 Of feeling, thought, or kindly sympathy, 
 As though the grave had closed over his head ! 
 A living grave of hatred and ill-will, 
 7 
 
74 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 And mutual estrangements, may cut off 
 
 From us our friends, as by the stroke of death. — 
 
 Yet still it is not Death ; although in view 
 
 Of Reason's eye, it be the same. We know 
 
 What spot the living holds. Imagination 
 
 Can picture to the mind of their abode — 
 
 And Hope still hangs upon the wish that once 
 
 Again to mortal vision they may be 
 
 Brought back — again may cheer our eyes and heart 
 
 By well-known face and voice. But who can say 
 
 Where dwell the dead ? Whether in some bright orb 
 
 That cheers the darkness of the evening sky — 
 
 Some planet circling round our own bright centre, 
 
 Or whirling through the realms of boundless space, 
 
 At will of some more distant sphere controlled, 
 
 Whose light, with its long journey wearied out, 
 
 Falls dimly on the straining eye — or where 
 
 Amid Creation's boundless range. Many, 
 
 Indeed, and wide the mansions are, whose doors 
 
 May open to receive the soul, when weary 
 
 Of its present home, it wends its way in quest 
 
 Of more congenial climes — or hovers yet, 
 
 In lingering longings, round its place of birth — 
 
 As flits for days about its wonted scenes 
 
DEATH. 
 
 The reluctant swallow, ere it wings its flight, 
 Mid warmer suns to roam, and brighter fields, 
 While frost binds up the earth, and cold winds blow. 
 
 Death is a separation, and no more. 
 It is no loss of life — nor loss of friends — 
 But only that in other worlds — 'mid other 
 Scenes — Life's journey is pursued ; where yet once 
 More we shall unite with those now lost to us, 
 In company no more dissevered, on 
 To tread Eternity's long march, which here 
 Begun, continues on who can tell where ! 
 
 We throw too much of gloom about the grave, 
 And death. They have in them nought that is gloomy 
 To those who look upon things as they are 
 In truth. Life has in it far more, from which 
 We shrink in thought, than death. To live, indeed, 
 And as we should, to live, may make us pause, 
 At view of all the fearful weight that hangs 
 Thereon, of deep responsibility — 
 How much depends upon our daily act, 
 Or more upon our daily negligence 
 To act, and oversight of duties high ! 
 
 7o 
 
76 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 But, having lived, to die — except, indeed, 
 
 When life has been all thrown away, or spent 
 
 In worse than idle uselessness, or folly, — 
 
 And then, why is it worse to die than live ? 
 
 What is there in it that we dread, or shrink from ? 
 
 'T is rest and peace to him whose life has been 
 
 The struggle fierce and contest hard, that 't is 
 
 To most, with outward or with inner ill — 
 
 He finds his Heaven, then, — not found before. 
 
 While to those few who find on earth the bliss 
 
 Of Heaven, in self-superiority 
 
 To all the ills of this our mortal state ; 
 
 Whose minds and hearts have risen above, and float, 
 
 Self-poised, in atmospheres, which lie far o'er 
 
 The heavy clouds of earth — of purity, 
 
 And conscious innocence, and virtuous thought 
 
 And act ; or those still fewer whom the shafts 
 
 Of mortal ill pass by without contact — 
 
 By nature, or by habit strong, early 
 
 Matured, the varied passions of the heart 
 
 Well balanced, or controlled secure, subject 
 
 To conscience, and to reason rightly trained — 
 
 While outward trouble and distress pass by, 
 
 And touch them not — to these death is no more 
 
DEATH. 77 
 
 But a continuation of their life, 
 And a complete security of that, 
 Which, while below, is liable to shocks, 
 That may disturb, if not wholly destroy. 
 
 Not in the dripping, dank, and dismal tomb, 
 Mid rotting remnants of decayed mortality, 
 May I be. laid, when soul and body both 
 Back shall return — to be unearthed again ; 
 To common gaze, or friendly eye exposed 
 The dust, or crumbling clay, with which no part 
 Nor lot the spirit then may have — no more 
 To be henceforth associated with it, 
 Except, as sometimes we recall the dress 
 In which last seen the form we loved — brought back 
 The features thus more vividly to mind. 
 But not as in' the coffin shrouded close 
 It lay, would we their image dwelt with us ! 
 When Death had now obliterated all 
 The traces the departing soul had left ; 
 When shrunk the cheek, silent the speaking eye, 
 And changed the features' natural impress ! 
 But as when strongest and warmest were the mind 
 And heart, which made them ours, and which are still 
 7* 
 
78 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 Our own, and will be yet again still more ; 
 When fresh and full was life, and strong the soul, 
 And vigorous and active all its powers ! 
 Thus would we have their image ever with us ! 
 Then in the soft, and warm, and wholesome bosom 
 Of our Mother Earth — under fresh sod — 
 Let me be placed — in silence undisturbed, 
 With native dust to mingle. The body- 
 But for the soul is needed ; and when that has 
 No further use for it, let it dissolve 
 And disappear. Its interest for us, 
 Comes from its inmate and its usefulness. 
 When, one of these the other following, 
 Both go, what care we for the lump of clay ? 
 Its beauty gone, its ugliness disgusts ; 
 And we revolt at sight of its decay. 
 Far better, then, to lay it where it ne'er 
 Shall more offend our senses or our hearts ! 
 
AMERICA. 
 
 Americans ! who bear a name, 
 Though young, yet widely known to fame, 
 And ignorant as yet of shame, 
 
 Its memory long to stain — 
 
 Whose ancestors at Plymouth rock, 
 Experienced first the trying shock, 
 Of hardships that we now may mock, 
 In Northern winters cold — 
 
 First, savage warfare long endured, 
 From its fierce ills themselves secured 
 By perseverance, long inured 
 
 To hardships, grief, and pain — 
 
 And deep in principles and laws, 
 That man from deepest wisdom draws, 
 And truth — foundation of their cause, 
 And country's welfare laid — 
 
80 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 Whose sires fought on Bunker's height, 
 And marched on Trenton's glorious night, 
 And quelled the boasted British might, 
 On Saratoga's plains — 
 
 Or under Carolina's sun, 
 With cruel foemen overrun, 
 Bid their best heart's blood freely run, 
 Their country's cause to serve — 
 
 In Yorktown's battered, crumbling wall, 
 Saw totter to its final fall, 
 The fabric of a foreign thrall, 
 
 And knew their prize was won — 
 
 Whose mothers sighed, and wept, and prayed, 
 As husbands, brothers, sons delayed — 
 Or in the dust were lowly laid — 
 
 To Freedom's armies called — 
 
 Or sung their mournful, joyous strain, 
 When those who turned them back again, 
 Were welcomed home in health or pain — 
 Their Liberty secured — 
 
AMERICA. 81 
 
 Whose counsels Washington has blessed ; 
 Whose armies led, and rights redressed, 
 And given that which governs best — 
 The least of governments — 
 
 And others wise, and brave, and good — 
 A host, who, but for him, had stood 
 Foremost, as bright the starry crowd 
 
 Shine forth, when gone the sun — 
 
 Whose laws by Marshall first were settled ; 
 For whose great truths Webster has battled, 
 And Adams, while thick round them rattled, 
 Weapons of wordy war — 
 
 America ! as strangers say — 
 And said upon a former day — 
 Will you now fall a final prey, 
 To anarchy or ill ? 
 
 Thy noble principles desert, 
 Your ancestors disgrace, and hurt 
 The cause of freedom — in the dirt 
 Trampled, if now you fall ? 
 
82 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 For where shall altars now be found ! 
 Where else Liberty's shrine on ground 
 So pure and free be raised ! — a sound 
 O'er all the earth to spread, 
 
 Of man's emancipation — free 
 From inward — outward slavery ; 
 From every law but that which He, 
 
 Who made, has to him given ! — 
 
 A chance before him freely placed 
 For gaining all that e'er has graced — 
 Avoiding all that has debased 
 Man's mortal life below ! 
 
 Say ! Can you do this ? If you can, 
 Then on thee be the curse of man ! 
 And on your brow be placed the ban 
 Of ' Traitor to the race ! ' 
 
 Thy name a vile and worthless thing 
 Shall be — to spurn — spit at — and fling 
 The taunt, shall o'er the nations ring — 
 False ! False ! — Eternally false ! 
 
AMERICA. 83 
 
 Thy birthright, then, thou shalt have sold ! 
 And worse than him of whom, of old, 
 That for a single mess — 't is told, — 
 He bartered his name away ; 
 
 Not for a base equivalent, 
 Even, thy name thou shalt have sent 
 Down time's long track — forever blent 
 With all that 's foul and base ! 
 
 But ruin with thy goods have bought ! 
 Have sold thyself for worse than naught ! 
 Not common cunning even ought 
 Thy character redeem ! 
 
 And well deserved shall be the stain, 
 That envious malice now — in vain — 
 Attempts to fasten as a chain, 
 Upon thy rising fame ! 
 
 But No ! Behind thee cast the thought, 
 As shrinks a man's just pride from aught, 
 Even suspicion may have brought, 
 His honor he can stain ! 
 
84 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 To speak of it, be an offence 
 
 To thee, which scarce admits defence — 
 
 Even though under best pretence, 
 
 The bard his words may hide ! 
 
 Thy self-respect close round thee wrap ! 
 Nor suffer chance ills, nor slight mishap, 
 The deep foundations aught to sap 
 Of thy just, honest pride ! 
 
 Your energies and well proved power, 
 In every dark and trying hour, 
 When dangers threat, or storms may lower. 
 About thee gather full ! 
 
 The course that lies before thee know ! 
 How best upon its track to go ! 
 And in the effort sternly throw, 
 
 Your whole concentred force ! 
 
 All past time open to your eyes. 
 The wide world spread before thee, lies. 
 Where you may choose what you shall prize. 
 As good your ends to serve ! 
 
AMERICA. 85 
 
 Where a sure wisdom may select 
 The useful, and the bad reject. 
 By one well warned — with the other decked, 
 Thyself with beauty grace. 
 
 Sturdy independence still preserve, 
 Of who would hinder, or would serve ; 
 For ignorance — as malice — to swerve 
 From thy true path might cause. 
 
 Yet not too proud counsel to obey, 
 Come to thee e'en as come it may — 
 From friend or foe — so that to sway 
 Your will, worthy it prove. 
 
 To your Maker's law subject that will. 
 All other counsellors — until 
 Its dictates clear are known — be still, 
 Nor dare this to oppose. 
 
 Then onward ever thou shalt tread 
 The ways that to perfection lead ; 
 Nor e'er be numbered with the dead, 
 Thy summit ne'er attain ! 
 8 
 
86 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 But ever thou shalt see before 
 Thee rise, new heights to climb — the law 
 Of empires' rise and fall no more — 
 Reversed — on earth to rule ! 
 
 The Christian law shall take its place, 
 "Which ever spreads before man's face 
 Some new attainment — higher grace — 
 His efforts to renew. 
 
 Nor suffers ever to stand still, 
 Until the summit of the hill — 
 Which gain on earth he never will — 
 Is reached — never to fall ! 
 
 'T is with the nation as the man. 
 As never falls the true Christian, 
 The Christian nation never can, 
 ISor ever cease to rise. 
 
 Religion, then, be thy safeguard ! 
 Let Principle keep watch and ward 
 O'er public — as o'er private — word 
 Or act, that 's said or done ! 
 
AMERICA. 87 
 
 Let Knowledge, too, with Virtue stand, 
 And Education, hand in hand, 
 Worthy to form a sacred band, 
 Our Liberties to guard ! 
 
 Washington watches o'er thee, now. 
 And still his calm, majestic brow 
 Frowns mournfully on aught that thou 
 Unworthily shalt do. 
 
 A world's dear hopes centre in thee ! 
 And never — never canst thou be 
 Unworthy the rich legacy 
 
 Sent to thee from on high ! 
 
THE RAILROAD. 
 
 As Moses through the desert passed, 
 
 A pillar of cloud by day, 
 By night, a fiery column cast 
 
 Its light upon his way ; 
 The pillar and the cloud to him, 
 
 As were the bush and rod, 
 "Were tokens, neither dark nor dim, 
 
 That with him was his God. 
 
 And now, as o'er our peopled wastes, 
 
 By various motive led, 
 The traveller on his journey hastes, 
 
 By fearful power sped ; 
 For him the rolling cloud ascends, 
 
 His daily course to mark, 
 To him the sparkling fire lends 
 
 Its light to cheer the dark. 
 
THE RAILROAD. 89 
 
 The power by which he speeds along, 
 
 As borne on wings of wind, 
 Betokens to us, no less strong, 
 
 A present Father kind ; 
 Who to his children's wants alive, 
 
 Their happiness to fill, 
 Has bid the powers of nature strive, 
 
 Obedient to their will ; 
 
 Its fearful energies has curbed, 
 And in man's puny hand 
 
 Has placed the rein, and undisturbed 
 O'er them is his command. 
 
 As Israel's guide still brought him near 
 
 The long-desired land, 
 Though wandering long through many a year, 
 
 And wide on either hand ; 
 Ours, too, the land of higher hope 
 
 We look for, brings us near, 
 Though leading us through many a doubt, 
 
 Uncertainty, and fear ; 
 
90 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 The promised land of peace and love, 
 
 Where good will e'er shall reign ! 
 New happiness, drawn from above, 
 
 Each in his heart shall gain ! 
 Where man shall live, as first was meant, 
 
 When being to him was given ; 
 And as, in later days, was taught 
 
 By the messenger from Heaven ! 
 
 The Railroad is a great reformer 
 
 Of the present age ! 
 No Bonaparte, Cromwell, or Luther, 
 
 Warrior or sage ! 
 But much as one or all of these 
 
 It onward speeds our race, 
 An impulse gives that, like the breeze, 
 
 We feel, if cannot trace ! 
 
 We feel it in the quickening life 
 That stirs throughout the land — 
 
 The ardent, eager, urgent strife 
 We meet on every hand. 
 
THE RAILROAD. 91 
 
 As through the body stirs Life's pulse 
 
 From healthy exercise, 
 And to each vein, by quick impulse, 
 
 Proportion due shall rise, 
 Of needed aliment to give 
 
 Each part its just support ; 
 New vigor through the system runs, 
 
 To all new power is brought ; 
 
 E'en so, as to each part remote 
 
 Our iron arteries run, 
 New energies and life spring forth, 
 
 As quickened by the sun, 
 The earth puts forth the hidden stores, 
 
 Which long have lain concealed 
 In its dark bosom, till the season 
 
 Comes to be revealed. 
 
 The powers that long have lain unused 
 
 In many a sturdy breast, 
 Uncalled for — unapplied — abused — 
 
 Now find a fitting quest, 
 
92 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 Thrown open for their exercise, 
 
 New happiness and grace, — 
 Instead of breeding discontent 
 
 By rusting in their place, — 
 A higher, fuller life to give, 
 
 Its limits to enlarge, 
 By urging him still on to strive, 
 
 His destiny improve ; 
 
 The sources at his hand which lie, 
 Of Beauty, Truth, and Love, 
 
 To see, to seize, and purify ; 
 And use, as from above, 
 
 Heaven's gifts to man — meant for his good, 
 
 If used for their true ends ; 
 For God his happiness e'er would, 
 
 And to it all tilings lends ; 
 Though this in action only found — 
 
 This man's best worship, too — 
 Of all his powers, in their round 
 
 Of varied use, and true. 
 
 
THE RAILROAD. 93 
 
 We feel it in the warmer feeling 
 
 Stirring in each breast — 
 The brotherly good will, fast stealing 
 
 O'er North, South, East and West ; 
 Binding together all our land 
 
 By a soft and silken cord, — 
 Far stronger than the iron band 
 
 We fasten on the sward, — 
 
 Of mutual interests and care — 
 Warm sympathies and kind — 
 
 Each of the others' goods to share, 
 Each others' wounds to bind ! 
 
 The wide extended view of man, 
 
 As Nature variously has spread 
 Around him, in her boundless plan, 
 
 New fortunes — new influences shed, 
 The intellect and heart expands, 
 
 New sympathies creates ; 
 All prejudice and narrow bands 
 
 Of jealousy abates ; 
 
94 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 Breaks down the barriers of pride, 
 
 Of ignorance, and hate, 
 That fence men round on every side, 
 
 When too much separate — 
 Ignorant of each others' fate, 
 
 And varied hopes and cares ; 
 For knowledge sympathy creates, 
 
 And love springs unawares, 
 
 As list we to the deeds of daring, 
 
 Fortitude, or worth — 
 The virtue no exertion sparing — 
 
 Wisdom having birth 
 In situations new or trying, 
 
 Varied from our lot, 
 That, in the germ unfruitful lying, 
 
 Circumstances begot. 
 
 And that, which on its outward face, 
 Might seem a cause of shame, 
 
 Contempt, infamy, or disgrace — 
 To hang upon the name ; 
 
THE RAILROAD. 95 
 
 Yet when we nearer come to view 
 
 It, in its real aspect, 
 We often find some virtue true 
 
 In this false guise bedecked ; 
 Or, in its hidden cause remote, 
 
 Concomitants, or end, 
 Though ill, in good it was begot, 
 
 To good its course will bend. 
 
 Intended good oft ends in ill, 
 
 And those who only know 
 The end, and judge by this, oft will 
 
 Great wrong their brother do ; 
 And final good oft bears the mark 
 
 Of evil on its face — 
 Thus judge we all things in the dark, 
 
 Unless in their true place. 
 
 With sights and sounds of dread all teeming — 
 Roaring, puffing, blowing, steaming, 
 Hissing, groaning, yelling, screaming, 
 As though the fiends, all hot from hell, 
 Were loosened in each rock and dell, 
 
96 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 To raise a hideous, fearful yell, 
 
 And echo back returned it well, 
 
 The engine tears along. 
 
 You scarce would deem there were not life, 
 
 It seems with energy so rife, 
 
 And will, and earnest, anxious strife ! 
 
 So eager pressing on its way, 
 
 Like eagle darting on its prey, 
 
 Or charger, whose proud stamp and neigh 
 
 Spurn the control it cannot stay ! 
 
 It dashes on, bearing along 
 
 Its freight of warm affections strong, 
 
 Of human hearts — their throbs and throes, 
 
 And varied joys, and cares, and woes, 
 
 And interests, and hopes, and fears ; 
 
 And sorrows, sufferings, and tears — 
 
 The dear delights of friends and home, 
 
 From which man ne'er so far shall roam. 
 
 As not to give them glad welcome, 
 
 When back to them he turns to come. 
 
 Who shall the value estimate — 
 
 Or in what coin — of this rich freight ? 
 
 The heart's affections have no rate ! 
 
THE APOTHECARY'S SHOP. 
 
 How brilliantly in the darkness glares, 
 
 Bright blue, and red, and green, 
 Yon window, cast in strong relief, 
 
 By the lamp's resplendent sheen ! 
 What wonders may such show portend ? 
 
 How wide their powers range ? 
 Why enter we not in, to view 
 
 The marvels there so strange ? 
 
 And as we enter, tier on tier, 
 
 And side by side, there rise, — 
 Portentous as the piling clouds, 
 
 That darken o'er the skies, — 
 A marvellous and strange array 
 
 Of vessels thick and grim, 
 Of every varied size and shape, 
 
 And colors bright and dim ; 
 9 
 
98 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 Mysterious devices girt 
 
 Their swelling sides around, 
 
 Or glittering on the drawers that range 
 Beneath them to the ground : 
 
 Speaking, at once, of darkness and gloom, 
 
 Of terror, and of death, 
 Of sorrow, sickness, and the tomb, 
 
 And of man's fading breath : 
 Dimly recalling the darkened room, 
 
 So close, confined, and still, 
 The stealthy step, so noiselessly 
 
 O'er its silent floor to steal ; 
 
 And woman's soft and gentle voice, 
 
 And yet more soothing care ; 
 The kind physician's healing skill, 
 
 And sympathizing air ; 
 The nights of weary watching, and 
 
 Of tossing, restless pain, 
 Longing that daylight would but dawn — 
 
 To wish it night again : 
 
THE APOTHECARY'S SHOP. 99 
 
 Consumption's wasting cheek and form, 
 
 The fever's throbbing pulse, 
 And burning cheek — and wrenching pains, 
 
 Each muscle to convulse : 
 The dreaded hours of noxious draughts, 
 
 Those fumes recall to mind, 
 When doctors were anathematized, 
 
 And nurses deemed unkind ! 
 
 But, as the towering thunder cloud 
 
 Speaks of a purer air — 
 Of fields more fertile — soil more fresh — 
 
 And farmer's hopes more fair ; 
 So in these ranges, fair to sight, 
 
 But foul to other sense, 
 We read of muscles fuller filled, 
 
 Of sinews strong and tense ; 
 
 Of nerves more firmly strung, and health, 
 
 More valued for its loss, — 
 Returning to the laxened limbs — 
 
 No more in pain to toss ; 
 
100 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 Of convalescent hours, when, 
 
 The body now at ease, 
 In luxury of life we revel — 
 
 Happy in release ; 
 As sports in wanton gambols, or 
 
 In aimless, eager flight, 
 The prisoned animal or bird, 
 
 Let forth to air and light. 
 
 Oh ! hours, when pain and weariness, 
 Which racked, have left us free ; 
 
 When rests the body, heart, and mind, 
 Oh ! palmy hours are ye ! 
 
 When press not the anxieties, 
 
 And troubles of our life ; 
 And heavy on the heart there lies 
 
 No thought of its anxious strife. 
 Then lightest seems the body's weight, 
 
 And nearest heaven we draw ; 
 The spirit from its tenement 
 
 Most easily may soar. 
 
THE APOTHECARY'S SHOP 101 
 
 So in our life extremes unite ! 
 
 The sickness that most may sink 
 The soul to its present dwelling's level, 
 
 Fits it but to drink 
 More largely of the clearer air, 
 
 That lies most high above 
 The murky atmosphere of earth — 
 
 Of purity and love ! 
 
 Thou man of many medicines ! 
 
 O'er an empire you preside, 
 Of wider range — of larger powers, 
 
 Than ruler of field or tide ! 
 
 Your satellites the simples -r- not 
 
 Of human form or mould — - 
 Compelled by fear or power to 
 
 Your will — or bought by gold ! 
 But elements • — as God's own hand 
 
 First into being brought -. — 
 Combined by laws He has enjoined, 
 
 By man sought out and wrought ! 
 9* 
 
102 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 Your subjects, all that need the cure 
 
 That you can give or find, 
 For ills the body must endure — 
 
 Whose wounds your drugs may bind ! 
 From North and South, and East and West, 
 
 Each clime and science pours 
 Its tribute to fill up your coffers — 
 
 Bottles — phials — drawers ! 
 
 Large is the weal and woe, that wide 
 
 From your counter you scatter round ! 
 Many a heart's dearest interests, 
 
 Up in your parcels are bound ! 
 How many an anxious parent's heart, 
 
 Or husband's tender care, 
 Wife's, brother's, sister's, lover's hopes 
 
 And fears, all centre there ! 
 
 Not drugs nor draughts — plaster nor pill, 
 
 Do you compound or sell ! 
 But health or pain — sorrow or joy — 
 
 A body sick or well ! 
 
THE APOTHECARY'S SHOP. 103 
 
 Disease or death — a broken heart 
 
 Or one bound up anew ! 
 A life preserved or lost — a shade 
 
 To dim another's blue ! 
 Heaven and hell, as some would say, 
 
 From behind your board you deal ! 
 Although if, as others deem, the soul 
 
 Is its own only heaven or hell ; 
 
 Like an atmosphere round it, wherever it be — 
 
 On earth, or beyond the grave — 
 Little power may drug, or thing of sense, 
 
 O'er its lasting welfare have. 
 Though very much within your reach 
 
 Is its present health or pain ; 
 For, next to its own diseases, those 
 
 Of the body are its bane. 
 
 When summer heats are heavy on 
 
 The body and the soul ; 
 When burnt the earth, and parched the lips, 
 
 And clouds of dust thick roll ; 
 
104 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 Then to your counter flock the old, 
 
 The young, the grave and gay, 
 In clear, cool, sparkling draught, to wash 
 
 Their weariness away. 
 When wintry storms blow thick and dark, 
 
 And evening airs are keen, 
 Bright rays of light to the passer's heart, 
 
 Shoot from your window's sheen. 
 
 But every day — cold, wet, or dry, 
 
 In every age and clime, 
 When empires long have passed away — 
 
 Washed o'er by the waves of Time ; 
 When ' monarch' is a name, of which 
 
 The world has long been weary, 
 Mankind shall still ere bless the skill 
 
 Of the good Apothecary ! 
 
DISEASE 
 
 Oh ! fell Disease, that snatcliest off 
 Strong manhood in its prime ! 
 
 And strippest away the opening buds 
 Upon the stalk of time ! 
 
 Ruthless invader of our joys, 
 Our love, and hope, and pride ! 
 
 Why not let us peacefully 
 
 Drift down life's sweeping tide, 
 
 Into the grave's broad, quiet bay, 
 Where long, at length, may rest 
 
 The soul's worn-out and shattered bark 
 Upon its calm, still breast ! 
 
 While other vessels there await, 
 The immortal freight to bear 
 
 Over eternity's ocean wide — 
 No more in earth to share ! 
 
106 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 Why must you rack our limbs with pain ? 
 
 Our souls with sorrow rend ? 
 Why suffer us not quietly 
 
 Down to the tomb descend ? 
 
 But the body only you can reach ! 
 
 You cannot shake the soul, 
 Where it rests, self-poised, above the storms, 
 
 That o'er earth's surface roll ! 
 
 Then do your worst ! — your power 's defied ! 
 
 Our patience you may try ; 
 But from the soul you shall not wring 
 
 One agonizing cry ! 
 
 But oh ! the young and tender spare ! 
 
 It ought to be your shame, 
 To wrench childhood's soft, yielding limbs, 
 
 Or woman's gentle frame ! 
 
 Why not satiate your appetite, 
 
 So foul, on manhood's prime ! 
 Why single out the fair — the weak ! — 
 
 Leave them to gentler Time ! 
 
DEATH OF DUROC, 
 
 Who was killed by a cannon shot, while by Napoleon's side, during the 
 hot pursuit of the enemy, after the battle of Bautzen. See Alison's 
 History of Europe. 
 
 The monarch to his tent withdrew ! 
 His faithful friends around him stood, 
 Nor ventured aught to meddle 
 With so deep — profound a grief. 
 In reverent awe they stood, 
 To see his iron frame so shook, 
 Who rarely used to show 
 Of grief or pain the sign. 
 And there he sat in silent agony ! 
 Army, empire, battle, victory 
 Alike forgot, in Nature's sway — 
 His friend was dead ! 
 The fatal shot had sped ! 
 His dearest— best beloved — 
 Companion of an hundred fields — 
 In war, in peace — 
 
108 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 Lay weltering in his blood ! 
 Oh ! what fearful thoughts 
 Then strove within his breast ! 
 The past before him rose ! 
 How many thus had gone — 
 His early, truest friends ! 
 But none like him ! 
 "Marengo 1 cost me dear, 
 And Essling 2 dearer yet ! 
 But this the last — most bitter pang of all ! 
 I said, in jest, * A shot was meant 
 For one of us ! ' — Alas ! a fatal jest ! 
 And now to be thus stripped, 
 When fortune lowers dark ! " 
 
 His trusty guard — his iron band — 
 Around him stood in silent sympathy ; 
 Nor sought by word to rouse him. 
 Nor music's loud, triumphal swell, 
 Nor mournful strain, aught heeded he ! 
 " To-morrow, everything ! " he said, 
 And wrapped him in his shroud of grief, 
 Apart and undisturbed. 
 What recked he that his host 
 
DEATH OF DUROC. 109 
 
 Of trusty warriors round him lay ! 
 The moon looked down 
 On deep and solemn melancholy — 
 The emperor was a man ! His friend was dead ! 
 
 (1.) Here the young and chivalrous Desaix met his fate, who with 
 his last breath sent word to the emperor, " that he regretted only that he 
 died before having accomplished any thing for which posterity would 
 remember him." Napoleon, on receiving the news in the hottest of the 
 fight, exclaimed : " Alas ! that there is no time to weep ! " 
 
 (2.) Where Marshal Lannes was killed, than whom he had none 
 braver — few more trusted generals, and whom he loved the more from 
 having himself, as it were, moulded him to what he had become. 
 
 10 
 
TEMPERANCE. 
 
 The following verses were -written at the time of the great Temperance 
 Celebration and Procession, in Boston, June, 1S44. 
 
 In ancient days, processions long, 
 
 With all that pomp and wealth combine, 
 
 Were made, with dance, and mirth, and song, 
 In honor of the god of wine. 
 
 In later times, when priestly sway 
 
 Held empires fettered in its grasp, 
 Too oft was seen the auto da fe, 
 
 With human victims' dying gasp. 
 
 To celebrate the deeds of war, 
 
 With honor crown the games of peace, 
 
 To laud the victor from afar, 
 
 In praise of God — the gods to please — 
 
 
TEMPERANCE. Ill 
 
 In every age, and in all lands, 
 
 To swell the long, triumphal train, 
 Men, in full, united bands, 
 
 Have joined — with song and choral strain. 
 
 And now and here we do the same, 
 
 Not in honor to the god, 
 Nor to praise or sing his name, 
 
 Who rules us with his ivy rod. 
 
 We celebrate the fall of Bacchus 
 
 From his wide, triumphant sway — 
 His sceptre now no more to rule us — - 
 
 No more check us on our way. 
 
 Here we sing of battles ended, 
 
 Victories gained, and marches done, 
 Here of honor well defended, 
 
 And immortal glory won. 
 
 Here, in many a hardy face 
 
 The marks of conflict hard sustained, 
 The scar of many a wound we trace — 
 
 The manly mien of those long trained — 
 
112 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 By struggles hard in virtue's cause, 
 By moral battles fought and gained, 
 
 To self-dependence, vigorous force, — 
 By man's approval unsustained, — 
 
 To win the glorious prize of life, 
 
 The paths of right and truth to tread, 
 
 The ways of vice, and sin, and strife, 
 To shun, as regions of the dead. 
 
 His battle ground the human soul ; 
 
 Passion and appetite his foe ; 
 His weapons, faith and self-control ; 
 
 His victory no head laid low. 
 
 No marks of blood the laurel stain, 
 
 "With which we crown the conqueror here ; 
 
 No burning city — blackened plain, 
 "With terror marks his dread career. 
 
 Hearts healed, not broken, here-attend, 
 To grace the long and joyous train ; 
 
 No cries of deadly anguish rend 
 The air, nor tears bewail the slain ; 
 
 
TEMPERANCE. 113 
 
 But shouts of joy at shackles broken ! 
 
 Tears of heartfelt pleasure flow ; 
 Banners wave in joyous token, 
 
 As on with steady march they go. 
 
 And ever thus, in future time, 
 
 As on our race their progress make, 
 
 Highest plaudits — loudest acclaim — 
 Moral triumphs shall awake. 
 
 Onward ! onward ! be our motto ! 
 
 The contest yet is but begun ; 
 The conquest now gained o'er the foe 
 
 Is but a single victory won. 
 
 Heaven's borders are but entered, 
 Many a stronghold yet remains, 
 
 Where Sin's full forces firm concentred, 
 Yet await our storming trains. 
 
 Every vice, and every passion, 
 
 Every desire impure, 
 Each bad feeling, each harsh action, 
 
 Must we in our hearts now cure. 
 10* 
 
114 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 Drunkenness is oft a fountain, 
 
 Whence many a loathsome stream may flow ; 
 Perchance, yet higher up the mountain, 
 
 Itself a stream, its source may know. 
 
 The stream may wander far and wide, 
 When yet the fountain is no more ; 
 
 And gathering strength, with growing tide, 
 Its swelling mass to ocean pour. 
 
 The stream may melt away and die, 
 While yet far up above, its source 
 
 In welling fullness still may lie, 
 
 And others move upon their course. 
 
 Both must perish — source and streamlet, 
 
 Ere the vale may safety know ; 
 Sin, in all its forms, must vanish 
 
 Ere man can to his stature grow. 
 
SOUNDS OF NATURE. 
 
 There is a glory in the clouds, 
 
 A beauty in the breeze, 
 A heaven in the whispering wind, 
 
 That plays upon the trees. 
 
 The rustling leaves do all rejoice, 
 And speak in a melodious voice 
 Of the soothing, quiet rest 
 That waits the soul in hours blest. 
 
 The moaning blast — the rugged roar 
 Of ocean breaking on the shore — 
 The falling snow — the dripping rain — 
 The driving sleet — the heaving main — 
 
 The lowering storm — the lightning's reel 
 The thunder's rattle, peal on peal — 
 Evening's " breathing stillness soft " — 
 The friendly beams of stars aloft — 
 
116 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 The vocal melody of morn, 
 Mid Nature's waking music born — 
 All sights and sounds, from every part - 
 Speak to deep feelings of the heart ; 
 
 To give delight — awake surprise — 
 Excite, subdue, or sympathize — 
 To stir the blood to intensest heat, 
 Or sink its pulse to gentler beat. 
 
 Thus God his children doth address, 
 In words which He alone can speak ; 
 
 In acts that all alike may bless, 
 And all may know, however weak. 
 
THE TEACHER 
 
 The Teacher's profession is mine ! 
 
 None more noble — more truly divine ! 
 
 On earth all that 's great and good to combine, 
 
 In heaven as stars of God's glory to shine, 
 
 Youthful spirits to teach ! — to point out the way 
 
 That conducts to perfection — eternal day ! 
 
 The life of the soul — o'er which no grave 
 
 Has power to take what God once gave ! — 
 
 No death can e'er quench, no tomb e'er enclose 
 
 The light which from reason and knowledge first rose. 
 
 To know well, myself, my first care — 
 What I know, then, with others to share ! 
 To attempt to communicate knowledge is vain, 
 If it clearly exist not first in your own brain. 
 What is well understood, well imparted can be — 
 One can never point out what himself does not see. 
 
118 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 And too often, 't is feared, a large share of the blame 
 Of children's obtuseness, the teacher might claim, 
 Who with knowledge imperfect, attempts to convey 
 To the child's mind that truth, of which only a ray, — 
 And that but a dim one, — illumines his own — 
 To another to show what himself has ne'er known. 
 
 Well knowing, myself, — next, long patience I need 
 AVith the many who will not, or cannot take heed 
 To instruction — for those the most greatly in want, 
 Are often least willing to take what you grant. 
 Dullness must not discourage — nor negligence cause 
 Me in doubt of success in my labors to pause — 
 To obstacles patience or temper to yield ; 
 In despondency fearful, to give up the field. 
 No sinking of heart must my courage o'ercome, 
 Nor the " pale cast of thought " my resolve e'er benumb. 
 Perseverance and energy must, from the grave 
 Of my doubts and my fears, rise, with power to save — 
 As they ever will do, those who shall there 
 A refuge seek from dark despair, — 
 And to bring such triumph and final success, 
 As shall give good cause my name to bless, 
 
THE TEACHER. 119 
 
 When, in after years, the child shall look back, 
 
 And see who first set him on that sure track, 
 
 Which has led him through trial, and doubt, and distress, 
 
 To purity, virtue, and happiness — 
 
 To life's best possessions, and that best of all, 
 
 A freedom from earth's oppressive thrall, 
 
 The rule of the passions, of pride, and of sense, 
 
 Or subjection to sluggish indolence — 
 
 Which gathers on man with its creeping chains — 
 
 Destroying while soothing — as on wintry plains 
 
 The weary traveller loses his pains, 
 
 And forgets his cares in the sleep profound, 
 
 Which artful Death first flings around, 
 
 To secure its prey — in pleasant dreams life passes away. 
 
 Next kindness and love my conduct must sway ! 
 The heart must prompt what the lips convey ! 
 An interest true, and regard sincere — 
 The welfare and feelings of each most dear — 
 Must take the place of that rule severe 
 Which, though needful at times as a last resort, 
 Has held a place it never ought 
 To hold, in training the youthful mind — 
 Nor need, if treatment just and kind 
 
120 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 Is ever shown, and motives true, 
 From higher sources, placed in view. 
 
 Fear — though placed in the human breast, 
 And by God acknowledged when addrest 
 By the sanctions of His law, 
 As a just means by which to draw 
 A man to truth and virtue's ways, 
 When from the narrow path he strays, 
 Is yet the lowest of the train, 
 By which the destined end to gain — 
 The last to which appeal is made, 
 When vainly all else has been essayed. 
 Affection, Hope, and Mercy plead — 
 Honor, Gratitude would lead — 
 A father's kindness back would win 
 The soul from selfishness and sin. 
 'T is only as the final proof 
 Of that undying, ceaseless love, 
 Which would not that one soul should die — 
 Its highest interests deny — 
 For want of motives that may move — 
 And such as may sufficient prove — 
 
 
THE TEACHER. 121 
 
 That dark despair is ever known — 
 
 The terrors of the Lord are shown. 
 
 'T is his own fault — if ever fear 
 
 Needed shall be, to bring man near 
 
 His Father's face. — And if as God, 
 
 Were teachers just and kind — their rod, 
 
 If ever, were far less used than now, 
 
 When suspicions unjust, or passions low, 
 
 A want of justice, or self-control, 
 
 Of tact, or of temper, may cause to roll 
 
 The tide of disorder, or revolt — 
 
 As much from his own as his pupils' fault. 
 
 The child has discernment, and reason keen, 
 
 Which should be addressed, wherever seen ; 
 
 And only as a last resort, 
 
 Should coercion be used, and authority brought 
 
 To overbear the stubborn will — 
 
 And force all opposition still. 
 
 V 
 
 My reward I find in my labors' success — 
 In that peace of mind which alone can bless — 
 The consciousness of duty done — 
 Life's highest, noblest prizes won — 
 11 
 
122 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 The power of doing good to man — 
 
 A power that all who will have, can — 
 
 A power which he who uses the most, 
 
 Has truest cause of himself to boast — 
 
 A power on none more amply bestowed 
 
 Than on those who set him on that road, 
 
 That will lead him to his highest good ; 
 
 And who make that path so pleasant and fair, 
 
 That from his own choice he would ever beware, 
 
 Of aught that would tempt him aside to stray, 
 
 And cast his happiness away. 
 
 In blessing most blest, in teaching best taught — 
 Having ever to higher instruction resort — 
 The powers my Maker has given, I use ; 
 The goods He has granted, enjoy — not abuse ; 
 My mind, more informed, striving still to improve, 
 My heart to enlarge with still widening love 
 For my God and my kind, I tranquilly pass 
 O'er life's varied tide, till the sand in my glass 
 Having run its course, to purer abodes 
 I speed my way — where yet new roads, 
 Less thorny and wider, to knowledge and truth, 
 Shall open before me ; and other youth, 
 
THE TEACHER. 123 
 
 Of fairer forms, and higher grace, 
 Shall greet my view — where I may trace 
 The ripening fruit of seeds I 've sown, 
 To beauty and perfection grown ; 
 And thus receive the high award — 
 The faithful servant's best reward. 
 
 Gently the falling rain descends ; 
 
 Its soft, refreshing shower 
 New fruitfulness and beauty lends 
 
 To herb, tree, bush, and flower. 
 
 Its quiet fall, too, lulls the mind 
 To peaceful, gentle thought — 
 
 In meditation rest to find, 
 Most often elsewhere sought. 
 
 It soothes us 'mid the storm of life, 
 Its outward, inward care ; 
 
 Bids cease awhile the toil and strife, 
 That on the spirit wear. 
 
THE FAEMEE. 
 
 A farmer's life is my delight ! 
 
 My labor 's in the open air, 
 With all so fresh, and free, and bright, 
 
 And heaven itself all round me there ; 
 Giving contentment, health, and peace 
 
 Of mind and body — sober joy, 
 
 But true and real — with no alloy 
 From fancied ills, pain, or disease, 
 An anxious mind, or ill at ease, 
 Dissatisfied with self, or life — 
 Or with the world, or man, at strife. 
 While Temperance my body keeps 
 In health and strength, the mind, too, reaps, 
 And heart, an equal benefit — 
 More energetic to acquit 
 Themselves of their appointed share 
 Of labor, trial, and of care ; 
 The one more vigorous and clear, 
 To think, contrive, reason, or hear ; 
 
THE FARMER. 125 
 
 The other abler still to bear 
 The loads that on the spirit wear, 
 Less likely far to yield and break, 
 Should sorrow its abode e'er take 
 Within the breast — or dark distress ; 
 Or anxious Poverty e'er press 
 Its weary weights upon the soul, 
 
 And the stuffed bosom all but burst, 
 As it shall dwell upon the roll 
 
 Of lengthened woes which this accursed, 
 Deep foe of man brings in its train, 
 Of anxious trouble, fear, and pain — 
 His slave driver — oppressor — chain ! 
 
 The powers of Nature to know, and to guide 
 To those ends that will best for the wants provide 
 Of both man and beast — of myself and whoe'er 
 May depend for support on my labor and care — 
 Wife, children, relations, or friends, who aid 
 From my exertions and love may need ; 
 Or the public well-being, which always demands 
 Of each one a share of the profit his lands 
 Or his labor may yield — to keep alive 
 The institutions by which we thrive, 
 11* 
 
126 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 Of education and government, 
 
 Which give a return that may well content 
 
 For the pittance that for their support is spent : 
 
 This employment for each day shall give — 
 
 Of mind, to inquire, lay out, contrive, 
 
 The best modes to improve, and to cultivate 
 
 The varied soils I may operate 
 
 Upon to till — what crops — when sown — 
 
 And how to highest perfection grown ; — 
 
 Of body, with aid of man and brute, 
 
 What the mind has devised to execute. 
 
 When first from its stupor awakens the ground, 
 Like a spell of enchantment long flung around 
 O'er all Nature's domains by the ice and the cold, 
 Which Winter, — like some dread magician bold, 
 As in stories of childhood's days we are told, 
 Who could charm by his arts, or some magic device, 
 To a death-like sleep — from which never to rise 
 But by the same power which placed them there — 
 Whoever his power to brave should dare, 
 Or his displeasure to incur should care, — 
 As an opiate administers, 
 To lull to repose the exhausted powers, 
 
THE FARMER. 127 
 
 That, wasted and worn by the labor and toil, 
 
 And the dust, and the heat, and the fierce turmoil 
 
 Of producing, supporting, and ripening fruit 
 
 For man's varied uses, must now recruit, 
 
 And gather fresh vigor their toils to renew, 
 
 When the dawn of the year shall break forth anew ; 
 
 Then, my cares to dig, to rake, to plough, 
 
 Noxious weeds destroy with hand or hoe, 
 
 For the varied fruits I would produce, 
 
 For profit, ornament, or use, 
 
 The ground to prepare — the roots set out, 
 
 The seed to sow, or scatter about. 
 
 As the rich, rapid growth of the rising plants, 
 To Heaven's tears and the Sun's bright smiles now grants 
 The recompense to either meet — 
 The one with answering smiles to greet ; 
 The other with grateful fragrance to cheer, 
 With fairer beauty the prospect to grace 
 That ever spreads before her face ; — 
 As onward presses the advancing year, 
 With alternate hope, and joy, and fear, 
 The growing harvests, ripening grain, 
 And swelling fruits, my thoughts enchain, 
 
128 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 My interests and cares engage ; 
 
 Till, one by one, to riper age 
 
 Advancing, my cares again begin, 
 
 To cut, and to pick, and to gather in — 
 
 In fit receptacles bestow 
 
 Each ripened grain and fruit ; till now 
 
 The Earth, her work being complete, 
 
 Spring, Summer, and Autumn their office meet 
 
 Having discharged — each creature's want, 
 
 From insect to mightiest elephant, 
 
 Being well supplied — in Winter's arms, — 
 
 His snowy veil thrown o'er her charms 
 
 With friendly care, — her head reclines ; 
 
 To quiet rest herself resigns : 
 
 And man, in comparative bodily rest, 
 
 To the pleasures of mind, with increasing zest, 
 
 His leisure devotes — and social joys ; 
 
 Each of his various powers employs 
 
 In labors that equally improve and refresh ; 
 
 While the odious ennui of idleness, 
 
 With all of its ugly and dark blue train 
 
 Of ministering spirits, that once held domain 
 
 In the stormy months round the farmer's hearth. 
 
 Is banished forever ; and with a new path 
 
THE FARMER. 129 
 
 To exertion, new pleasures and higher content, 
 
 With the various hues of life's web is blent ; 
 
 Contentment and pleasures that never will end, 
 
 But to higher and purer delights will ascend, 
 
 As gathers Eternity's swelling wave — 
 
 On this, or the other side of the grave. 
 
 For the grave marks but the time, when the soul of man 
 
 Takes a stronger stride onward than ever it can 
 
 While confined to its present frail dwelling of clay — 
 
 Its energies cramped by its weakness — decay — 
 
 And its view circumscribed to the narrow survey 
 
 It can take from the walls of this prison abode ; 
 
 Which yet, in its season and office, is good, 
 
 Its free roving inmate in those cares to engage, 
 
 Which suit best its destiny, welfare, and age — 
 
 Those labors essential to strengthen its might, 
 
 And prepare for a stronger and higher flight, 
 
 When, as the butterfly, ready its rough robe to doff, 
 
 And able its full grown wings to spread, 
 Its fleshly integument it shall cast off — 
 
 In higher perfection and beauty to tread 
 Through the vistas of lengthened enjoyment so bright, 
 That shall open to view in the mansions of light. 
 
THE LAWYER 
 
 The lawyer's life is the life for me, 
 With my Blackstone and Kent, and my regular fee, 
 With a conscience pure, and intellect trained, 
 And stored with the learning in long years gained, 
 By vigor of mind, and courage of heart, 
 And diligent study of science and art ; 
 With no inordinate love of gain, 
 Nor the practice of arts which my honor would stain, 
 Of petty false dealing, unworthy chicane, 
 Of falsehood — a dollar or client to save — 
 When my pocket finds gold, but my conscience a grave 
 When my bank-book is filled, but emptied my heart 
 Of innocence, purity, every art, 
 That can beautify, cheer, or make glorious life — 
 Or render it rich in enjoyment, and rife 
 With the pleasures of heaven — a conscience at ease, 
 And a sense of desire my Maker to please. 
 
 My labors my pleasures — for surely I find 
 Few higher enjoyments than those of the mind, 
 
THE LAWYER. 131 
 
 Employed upon subjects, that ever demand 
 
 Of purest intelligence perfect command — 
 
 An intellect clear — a reason supreme, 
 
 Whose light in all the soul's actions shall beam. 
 
 What pleasure the nature of man to observe, 
 
 As dissected till each several fibre and nerve, 
 
 Is laid bare before one at rooms, bar, or stand, 
 
 Or when a jury's whole reason and heart I command — 
 
 Now lash into madness — now melt into tears — 
 
 Now sway by their sympathies, now by their fears, 
 
 And finally lead them, by Reason's pure light, 
 
 To do all demanded by justice and right ; 
 
 The truth to unveil, however concealed, 
 
 By thought, word, or action unheeded, revealed ; 
 
 The weak 'gainst oppression and fraud to sustain ; 
 
 Injustice unmasked at Right's bar arraign ; 
 
 Unmerited rank of its honors to strip, 
 
 And lower all pride based on lands, or on scrip, 
 
 On office, or honors by other arts gained, 
 
 Than a character by true worth sustained ! 
 
 Family and home my affections possess ! 
 Wife, children, or friends my leisure shall bless, 
 
132 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 With pleasures the purest that earth can e'er know, 
 
 With bliss the most perfect allotted below. 
 
 When prosperity smiles, and variety calls — 
 
 Refreshment, or health — or labor palls — 
 
 I leave for a season my office and books, 
 
 My clients and cares, and professional looks, 
 
 Throwing off for a while all the burdens of life, 
 
 And alone, or with friends, or children, or wife, 
 
 In stage-coach and ferry, steam vessel and car, 
 
 I visit the wonders and beauties afar — 
 
 The magnificent West or the sunny South, 
 
 Whose marvels and glories fill every mouth ; 
 
 Or the more distant shores of the old world survey, 
 
 Where antiquity's relics, by story or lay, 
 
 Still alive to the mind in the midst of decay, 
 
 Are clothed with enchantment of earlier days, 
 
 Robed in fancy's bright tints, or the dazzling rays 
 
 Of chivalry's light, which, dimmed by long time, 
 
 Shows but the magnificent and sublime ; 
 
 And filling the view by its splendors so bright, 
 
 Its more ugly features conceals from the sight : 
 
 Where the mild, melting climes of Italia and Greece 
 
 Still invite by their softness to revel at ease. 
 
THE LAWYER. 133 
 
 In voluptuous musings on scenes now long gone, 
 
 Their marvellous records of battle and song ; 
 
 From the half-believed fables of earliest time, 
 
 The records of heroes, and gods, and crime, 
 
 Through the thick crowded dramas of Athens and Rome — 
 
 All acted by masters — till we come nearer home, 
 
 Through the dark brooding night of humanity's fate, 
 
 O'er the bright breaking dawn — greeted gladly, tho' late — 
 
 To Destiny's favorite, who made ower true 
 
 All that Fiction e'er feigned, or History knew. 
 
 Through these scenes of nature and man I would rove, 
 My mind to enlarge, and to quicken my love 
 Of my kind and my God. Thus my place here I fill, 
 Till some other 's assigned by my Maker's will — 
 In some distant scene of his wide domains, 
 To perform such service as yet remains. 
 
 12 
 
CHEAP BOOKS. 
 
 Cheap books ! cheap books ! is now the cry 
 
 "We hear on every hand ! 
 Who will not read ? — who will not buy ? 
 
 When here, at every stand, 
 
 For a dollar, or quarter, or even for less, 
 
 The best authors may be had — 
 Provided one does not much care for the dress 
 
 In which they may chance to be clad. 
 
 And what is the dress to the form or the soul, 
 
 Whose adornment or garb it may be ? 
 So that it do not one's eyes destroy, 
 
 In the effort the soul to see. 
 
 Here are Edge worth and Bremer, James, Dickens and 
 Scott, 
 
 And Bulwer, and Burney, and Sue ; 
 Though history be — as they say — half false, 
 
 Here 's fiction that 's ower true. 
 
CHEAP BOOKS. 135 
 
 And if of the native growth we prefer, 
 
 Sound patriots true to our soil, 
 Here are Cooper, and Sedgwick, and Irving, and Simms, 
 
 That will long waste our midnight oil ; 
 
 And Willis and Poe, with their free dashing pens, 
 And Hawthorne, with heart true and warm, 
 
 And Arthur, and Ingraham, English and Co., 
 Who the ills they depict would reform. 
 
 Here are Wilson, and Elia, and Hazlitt, and Hunt, 
 
 Macauley, and Jeffries, and Hood ; 
 Critiques and essays that will vie with the best, 
 
 In the sound, and the genial, and good. 
 
 Here is History, too, that with Fiction will vie 
 
 In the strange, the romantic, and grand ; 
 For History should be all truth itself — 
 
 While Fiction but truth feigned ; 
 
 D'Aubigne, Thiers, Thirlwall, and Michelet, 
 O'er whose pages the heart warmly beats, 
 
 With alternating wonder, and horror, and love, 
 As the records of warfare, defeats, 
 
136 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 Of victory, massacres, bloodshed, and death, 
 
 Patience, constancy, daring, and toil ; 
 The martyr's endurance, the patriot's meed 
 
 Of self-sacrifice for his dear soil ; 
 
 The conqueror's might, the oppressor's dark pride, 
 
 Humanity's groans and her cries, 
 As Oppression's foul car crushing o'er her may ride, 
 
 When low in the dust bowed she lies ; 
 
 As man's puny strivings, and God's mighty hand, 
 
 His purposes thus working out, — 
 Man's doings — as Nature's — by his command, 
 
 And agency brought about, — 
 
 As in thread, or on canvass, the picture is wrought, 
 All appear full disclosed in one view, — 
 
 In one tissue in beautiful harmony blent 
 Web and colors of each varied hue. 
 
 Come buy ! then, come buy ! — let not the mind perish 
 
 For want of its sustenance due ; 
 Fancy, imagination, and reason now cherish, 
 
 Or surely your folly you '11 rue. 
 
CHEAP BOOKS. 137 
 
 Each power should have its fit exercise given, 
 
 In due time, and place, and degree ; 
 Then in vigor, proportion, and beauty of heaven, 
 
 The man in his wholeness we see ; — 
 
 No ugly excrescence, unsightly excess 
 
 Of one part, the whole symmetry marring ; 
 
 Nor perfection of one, with another's fair growth, 
 And developement, unjustly warring ; — - 
 
 But like the fair statues of Grecian perfection, 
 
 In nature's own excellence decked, 
 Where in muscle, or sinew, limb, joint, or expression, 
 
 No flaw nor defect we detect ; 
 
 Men and women whole-souled — mind and heart — we 
 should have, 
 
 Each affection and power in place, 
 "Well trained, with each other in harmony blending, 
 
 To bless both themselves and their race. 
 
 12* 
 
THE TOIL OF LIFE. 
 
 How remedy the toil of life ? 
 The constant care — the gnawing strife — 
 The daily wear and tear of heart — 
 The spirit sorrow's deadly dart ? 
 How keep the soul from sinking down — 
 Beneath earth's muddy waves to drown — 
 Its high affinities to lose — 
 Its origin forget — abuse 
 Its higher destiny — its end 
 To overlook, and downward bend 
 Its view — instead of ever up ? 
 
 The mind should rise far over all 
 "Would sink it down beneath earth's thrall ! 
 The head high in the heavens rise, 
 And breathe the air of purer skies, 
 While yet below the feet may tread, 
 And through earth's mazy tracks may lead ! 
 The heart should draw down from above 
 Some gleams of brighter light and love ; 
 
THE TOIL OF LIFE. 139 
 
 Which o'er earth's darker scenes of wo, 
 Of dreary want, or care, may throw 
 A cheering warmth, and sunny glow ! 
 
 By interests the thoughts to engage ; 
 By study of the storied page ; 
 The painter's, sculptor's finer art ; 
 Whate'er may move or warm the heart ; 
 By music, poetry, and prayer, 
 We help the loads of life to bear — 
 We lift the soul above the ill, 
 Which else its energies might kill ! 
 
THE STREAMLET 
 
 Bubbling streamlet ! on thou flowest 
 Through the crusted ice and snow ; 
 Ever murmuring, as thou goest, 
 " Thus flow all things here below ! " 
 
 Onward ! onward ! is thy motto ; 
 
 Ever nearer to thy goal ! 
 Swifter now, and now more slowly, 
 
 Ever on thy waters roll ! 
 
 So should Life, in swelling currents, 
 Onward still its progress make ! 
 
 Lagging footsteps — tardy travellers — 
 Wiser counsel here should take. 
 
THE STREAMLET. 141 
 
 As the stream, with joyous progress, 
 Seeks with deepening tide the lake, 
 
 So should man, with growing wisdom, 
 Way to peace and heaven make. 
 
 As the stream, when Summer flowers 
 
 Gaily deck its grassy brink, 
 Of idle dallying, with their sweets, 
 
 Of precious hours, dares not think ; 
 
 Nor, when storms of winter lower, 
 And ice and snow its current check, 
 
 Of obstacles like these, or other 
 Greater even, aught would reck ; 
 
 So should man in wanton pleasures 
 
 Ne'er his duty's call neglect ; 
 Nor in trial's darker hours, 
 
 By doubt or danger be perplexed ! 
 
 But ever upward should he turn 
 
 His glance, with Trust's unshaken eye ; 
 
 Nor suffer Hope's unflinching courage 
 Ever in his breast to die ! 
 
142 MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 Thus thy lesson, little streamlet ! 
 
 Unto all who listen, read ! 
 For still does man, would he but see it, 
 
 Nature's smallest teachings need. 
 
 Times there are when sadness seems 
 To us most fit — when only themes 
 Of darker hue, and sober dreams, 
 Our feelings meet, or do not shock ; 
 When aught that 's light seems but to mock 
 Us, and to laugh, or jest, or talk 
 Of common things, — profanity ; 
 When nought but solemn melancholy 
 With us as a friend may be. 
 
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 
 
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