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 THE 
 
 BA^tmi ®w m»A; 
 
 THE 
 
 FALL OF DELHI 
 
 ANB 
 
 OTHER POEMS 
 
 By W. 
 
 PHILADELPHIA : 
 THOMAS T. ASH— CHESNUT STREET. 
 
 1829. 
 

 Printed by 
 Adam Waldie & Co. 
 
rji.' 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 To the Reader . . . . . . . p. 5 
 
 The Battle of Lepanto . . ... 7 
 
 The Fall of Delhi 44 
 
 The Trial of Venus ..... 64 
 
 The Nereid 75 
 
 The Tempest. ...... 81 
 
 Recollection . . . . . . .85 
 
 Lines written on passing the Island of St. Helena . 87 
 
 Retrospection ....... 90 
 
 The Light House ...... 92 
 
 Lines written in an Album ..... 94 
 
 Farewell ....... 96 
 
 The Flight of Time ... . . . .100 
 
 Stanza . . . . . . .102 
 
 The Court of Bacchus ...... 103 
 
 To ***** . . . . . . . 106 
 
 Saturday Night ...... 108 
 
 Lines written in an Album . • . . lio 
 
 The Mystic Ship . . . . . .113 
 
 116 
 
TO THE READER. 
 
 The author of the following poems, in pre- 
 senting them to the public, acknowledges, their 
 imperfection, and is sensible that no apology on 
 his part can make good the defect. To avow 
 that he is a novice in the school of poetry, and 
 that these are his first essays, might, with some, 
 serve as a slight palliation. But an author de- 
 serves no mercy — he knows well the terms upon 
 which he must meet the pub he ; and if defeat 
 happen, his is the fault. 
 
 If this httle volume should be found to contain 
 any merit, partially to counterbalance the deficien- 
 cies, the public will do it justice ; if the contrary, 
 let it sink, where thousands of its fraternity have 
 found refuge, beneath the quiet billow of obHvion. 
 
 Philadelphia, January, 1829. 
 
THE BATTLE OF LEPANTO. 
 
 This celebrated coftflict occurred during the 
 reign of Selim II. who ascended the throne upon 
 the death of Sohman I. his powerful father. 
 Upon the 7th of October 1571 the united fleet of 
 Venice and Austria fell in with the Turkish squa- 
 dron in the gulph of Lepanto, and a tremendous 
 engagement ensued, which terminated in the al- 
 most total annihilation of the Moslem navy. The 
 force of the Sultan was by no means superior in 
 numbers to that of the confederates, and many of 
 his officers were opposed to making battle until 
 they had augmented their power ; — but the ad- 
 miral, Ali Pasha, was in favour of instant combat, 
 and, having collected on board his vessels the 
 janissaries and other soldiers from garrisons in the 
 vicinity, steered for the mouth of the gulph, near 
 which the engagement took place. The Turkish 
 
 loss in this battle has been rated at more than 
 
 30,000. 
 
 These are the data upon which this simple 
 
 poem rests. It is not faithful in detail, nor does 
 
 it aspire to the rank of an historical poem. 
 
THE 
 
 iA^^am mw mm^Ai 
 
 " Farewell, Isidora ! weep not ;-— for ere long 
 
 I shall greet thee again, with triumph and song ; 
 
 Though far we may roam o'er the wavering main, 
 
 I carry thy prayers o'er the blue ocean plain, — 
 
 They surely will shield me — for Heaven will hear 
 
 Bright beauty's appeal, and be moved by her tear. 
 
 Weep not that I go where my destinies call, 
 
 For Venice to vanquish, or for her to fall ; 
 
 Thou couldst not regret should I bleed in the 
 
 strife, 
 
 I go for my country ; — and proud if the life 
 
 Of him, whom thou lovest, for her could be sold, 
 
 And my name, where is that of my father, 
 
 enrolled. 
 1 
 
10 BATTLE OF LEPANTO. 
 
 We shall meet, love, again. — When from Venice 
 
 afar, 
 That hope shall give light through the dark clouds 
 
 of war, 
 And gladden my sad soul : — Oh ! would I could 
 
 tell 
 How CoLONNA adores thee ! — Isidora, farewell!" 
 
 Colonna thus spoke ; and his dark beaming eye 
 Looked down on the maid, but she gave no reply. 
 In his beauty he stood ; but the. demon of care 
 Had traced some faint lines o'er his features so 
 
 fair : 
 Yet still in that beauty there triumphed a glow, 
 Whose brightness could not be all conquer'd by 
 
 wo : — 
 And the soul, — it blazed forth from the blue of his 
 
 As the day orb looks bright from a glorious sky. 
 A medal of gold hung down on his breast, 
 And dazzled the eye with its glittering crest. 
 Upon it a lion was stamped, — by this gold 
 A knight, of the order of Mark, might be told 
 
 n 
 
BATTLE OF LEPANTO. 11 
 
 By his side he had buckled his father's tried sword, 
 Unsheathed oft in strife by the Venitian lord. 
 He stood all apparelled, and marshalled for war, 
 And his bark was in waiting to bear him afar. 
 
 Isidora, of Venice, was maiden as fair 
 
 As e'er had a dark eye or dark flowing hair ; 
 
 Like the statues which stood in her father's old 
 
 halls, 
 Looked the shade of her figure when marked on 
 
 their walls ; 
 A Venus in model, — a Venus in grace, — 
 How cold seemed the sculpture — how lovely her 
 
 facel 
 You have looked on the mountain all lonely at 
 
 night, 
 When upon its snow-summit the moon flung her 
 
 light ; 
 Her brow was as bright as the snow on that hill. 
 And her eye beamed a lustre more languishing 
 
 still ; 
 And round her neck hung the soft clusters of hair. 
 Then dropped o'er her shoulder and played in the 
 
 air; 
 
12 BATTLE OF LEPANTO. 
 
 Her bosom was fair as the fresh fallen snow, 
 And heaved, and beat high with affection's full 
 glow. 
 
 Like the cold sculptured stone, Colonna stood 
 
 there 
 A moment, and gazed with fixed eye on the fair ; 
 Around him she twined like a vine round a tree, 
 Which still clings to the trunk, though all withered 
 
 it be. 
 Her fallen head hung, half concealed, on his breast, 
 And far round his neck her ivory arm prest ; 
 Her waving hair burst from its fillet, and rolled 
 To the skirt of her garment in dark wreathing 
 
 fold : 
 And her tears like the rain drops of April fell. 
 But she dare not — her tongue would not utter- 
 farewell ! 
 More close to his bosom he pressed her, — and 
 
 threw 
 The thick locks of hair from her forehead — then 
 
 drew 
 Her cold brow to his lips ; — she turned with her 
 
 eye, 
 
 1 
 
BATTLE OF LEPANTO. 13 
 
 Which spoke through its tears with a grateful 
 
 reply : 
 He clasped her again, — hark ! the thriUing horn's 
 
 call! 
 And he sprung, like an arrow of light, from the 
 
 hall. 
 
 High tossing on her purple pillow, 
 Breaking the deep glass of each billow, 
 The skiff plies swiftly from the shore, 
 With mea||a§ed stroke of springing oar ; 
 They reach the ship — round, with the tide. 
 The bark swings to the vessel's side : 
 On board Colonna springs. — The gale 
 Ruffles the white wing of the sail ; — 
 The canvass loosed, — the brisk wind free 
 Startles the fresh foam from the sea ; 
 The curving sails are filled, — away she glides. 
 And silver billows dance around her sides ; 
 Now she careens, and leans her bending breast 
 In graceful posture on the ocean's crest, 
 And now erect she holds her gallant way, 
 
 1* 
 
14 BATTLE OF LEPANTO. 
 
 Stirring up clouds of foam and rainbow spray : 
 Away, — away with wings of life she flies, 
 Like a fleet eagle through the circhng skies. 
 
 The crowd grew dim upon the busy shore, 
 The distant breakers hushed their sullen roar ; 
 Venice sank down behind the dimpled sea, 
 And round them grew a blue immensity. 
 What sullen thoughts, what dark misgivings roll 
 In sudden deluge o'er Colonna's soul ! 
 And the strong pictures of the brilha^^^ast 
 A lurid halo round his memory cast ; 
 A setting sun seemed gilding other scenes 
 With hallowed glory, but with dying beams : — 
 Around the future sable horrors hung, 
 And frightful visions, which appal the young 
 When first they wander from their peaceful home, 
 And on the wide world, find themselves alone. 
 But he thought on his country, — and then in his 
 
 breast. 
 Pride quelled the strong torrents of passion to 
 
 rest. 
 
BATTLE OF LEPANTO. 15 
 
 And gladdened his soul ; — a freshness there came 
 And breathed o'er his spirits : — then, the phantom 
 
 of fame 
 Danced fluttering before him, and held to his 
 
 view 
 A mirror of deeds which he panted to do. 
 
 Suns rose and set,— and still the bounding sea 
 
 Rolled its huge billows round them heavily ; 
 
 Giving no prospect to the wearied eye, 
 
 Save waste of ocean, and a tract of sky. 
 
 Musing alone, — upon the star-lit deep, 
 
 When o'er the waves the night winds love to 
 
 creep, 
 Colonna ofttimes looked ; — and called to mind 
 The scenes, and days,— and maiden left behind : 
 And painted Venice on the darkened sea. 
 Her scenes of rest, or active revelry. 
 There is a magic in the lonely deep. 
 To lull the passions to a quiet sleep, 
 Or rouse them from the caverns of the soul. 
 And let them heave and swell without control. 
 
16 
 
 BATTLE OF LEPANTO. 
 
 The sun comes dazzling through the eastern 
 
 skies, 
 And with his beams the Grecian mountains rise ; 
 The fair breeze freshens, — and the port is won, 
 But yet remains a duty to be done. 
 
 \ 
 
 Upon yon sparkling billows play 
 The sunbeams of a cloudless day, 
 Tipping their fringe of fancied fold, 
 With streams of light and liquid gold ; 
 The frolic zephyrs roaming gay, 
 ^eem sporting on a holyday, 
 
 basing the billows as they run 
 And gambol in the morning sun : — 
 Then lift the white spray from the sea, 
 And heave it far and sportively. 
 The clamorous little billows dash, 
 In their carousive gambols clash, 
 Striving and wrestling to o'erthrow. 
 And roll above a fallen foe ;^ 
 Or, murmuring, hasten to the shore. 
 To bubble, break, and rise no more, 
 
BATTLE OF LEPANTO. 17 
 
 Spreading their white folds as they roam, 
 Then strike, and burst to shivered foam. 
 
 The Grecian sky looks bright and clear, 
 Through an unsullied atmosphere ; 
 Shedding as bright her azure glory, 
 As when in days of proudest story 
 She hung o'er Athens, and that name 
 Was first upon the scroll of fame. 
 Red Sol looks young and bright as ever, 
 With radiant glory fading never, 
 Darting his countless beaming rays, 
 In the same pure, unwavering blaze ; 
 But, Sol ! e'en thou must fade at last, 
 And hide thy glory in the past. 
 Oh ! for the days which thou hast seen ! 
 Oh I for the spirits that have been ! 
 When Athens, righteous in her cause. 
 Gave Solon honour, and his laws ; 
 Or, when stern Draco's code of blood 
 A check upon the unwary stood ; 
 When lived the good Themistocles, 
 And Greece could boast of Pericles : — 
 
18 BATTLE OF LEPANTO. 
 
 When Athens had a sword to wield, 
 And strike, beneath Minerva's shield. 
 
 The same sky looks o'er Athens still, 
 
 The same sun brightens every hill ; — 
 
 Grecians are there ! but are they free, 
 
 Or bent and broke to slavery ? 
 
 The billows to the Achaian shore, 
 
 Roll now as purple as before ; 
 
 But where the Achaian league, that broke 
 
 The bondage of a foreign yoke ? 
 
 Where they of Patrae ? whose right hands 
 
 Won, with their swords, from hostile bands 
 
 A home and refuge, — fearless and free, 
 
 The cherish'd sons of liberty 1 
 
 And Dian's temple, sparkhng high 
 
 With golden summit to the sky ; 
 
 Where are they now ?— Where is the rain, 
 
 Which pattered on the level main ? 
 
 The rainbow arch of yesterday, 
 
 The dying gleam of sunset ray ? 
 
 The flashing meteor darting by. 
 
 Tracing its red track through the sky ? 
 
BATTLE OF LEPANTO. 19 
 
 The rocket hurled on high in air, 
 With glaring embers, — they are — where ? 
 Resolve these queries ! and I then 
 Will answer thee of Greece again. 
 
 The Turkish vessels in their pride, 
 
 Upon Lepanto's waters ride ; 
 
 Like birds on wing above the seas, 
 
 Flutter their banners in the breeze. 
 
 From the tall mast no curving sail 
 
 Is spread to woo the languid gale; 
 
 But moveless all at anchor rest, 
 
 As bubbles on the still sea's breast. 
 
 When not a breath or gasp of air 
 
 Awakes to start commotion there. 
 
 With bustling scene of busy life, 
 
 The world of men prepare for strife ; 
 
 Their oar blades in sunshine with silver light 
 
 glance. 
 As, over the deep blue, the light cutters dance. 
 Arms and armed men transporting, the decks to 
 
 equip. 
 Dart they swiftly along by each galley and ship : 
 
20 BATTLE OF LEPANTO. 
 
 And signals are flying aloft on the mast, 
 Changing quick in succession, and answered as 
 
 fast. 
 They await but the breeze to weigh anchor — then 
 
 go 
 And give a salute as they welcome the foe. 
 
 The sultan's fleet is not alone ; 
 Lepanto's quiet waters own 
 The presence of another power. 
 Ready to try the battle's hour ; 
 Venice and Austria unite, 
 To crush the Crescent, in their might : 
 Their fleets are joined upon the main. 
 With strength oft tried, nor always vain. 
 Doria, of Venice, in this hour. 
 Is chief of the confederate power. 
 Well skilled to act in naval life. 
 And not averse to bloody strife ; 
 Anxious, — and eager for the foe. 
 He waits the time to send a blow. 
 
BATTLE OF LEPANTO. 21 
 
 The breeze, awakened fresh and free, 
 
 Flings a dark shadow over sea ; 
 
 The little blue waves leap light on their way. 
 
 Nodding their plumes of feathery spray. 
 
 To windward of the Christian Reet, 
 
 The coming breeze glad Moslems meet ; 
 
 Heave up the anchors, — hoist their sail, 
 
 And hail with shouts the welcome gale : 
 
 Form in order of battle their scattering force. 
 
 And down for the Christians bear swiftly their 
 
 course. 
 The Crescent looks bright from the admiral's 
 
 mast. 
 As it bends its tall length to the fresh breathing 
 
 blast. 
 " There is but one God," — so Al Koran declares, 
 '' And Mahomet his prophet," — to him are their 
 
 prayers ; 
 And say, shall they triumph ? Oh, Alia ! in thee. 
 Their faith, hope and trust for the conquest, must 
 
 be. 
 
22 BATTLE OF LEPANTO. 
 
 Doria beholds the approaching fleet, 
 His anchor weighs, the foe to meet ; 
 His line of battle forms : — each sail 
 Fills with the impulse of the gale. 
 His van the young Colonna leads. 
 Heart beating high for martial deeds. 
 That he may still keep bright the fame, 
 Which glistens on his father's name. 
 Doria the centre station takes, 
 Galley and galliot regulates ; 
 In their true line the vessels form, 
 Prepared to bear the battle's storm : 
 Juan of Austria guides the rear, 
 With deck for coming action clear. 
 Yards well secured, — the lashings fast 
 Made round the tall and stately mast ; 
 Each cannon from the fastenings free, 
 Reaches its dark neck o'er the sea ; 
 Sponges and rammers by each gun 
 Are laid ; train tackles loosely run ; 
 Tompions withdrawn : and, lord of all, 
 In rolled the sluggish iron ball. 
 
 I 
 
BATTLE OF LEPANTO. 23 
 
 The Moslem fleet approaches near, 
 With glittering arms and dotted tier ; 
 Lord ! what a silence through the air I 
 You'd think devotion triumphed there ! 
 No one speaks now above his breath, 
 Each stationed at some post of death, 
 Silent awaits the signal given 
 To startle souls from earth to heaven. 
 It is not fear which rends the breast. 
 Upon that hour of awful rest 
 Which comes before the roar of fight, 
 When all around is hushed as night. 
 Whoever stands with silent breath. 
 Waiting the doming tide of Death, 
 Will feel a startling awe, before 
 The cannon opens with its roar ; 
 All is so silent ; — on Death's brink 
 You totter, and compelled to think ! 
 The bravest hearts are not as hght 
 And reckless as on yesternight. 
 But when the wakened thunders roll. 
 And sweep their music through the soul, 
 
24 BATTLE OF LEPANTO. 
 
 When cannons flash and carbines rattle^ 
 And all is din, and busy battle ! 
 Who thinks of thought ? — away ! to die, 
 Is warrior's meed, — 'tis Victory ! 
 
 The signal is given ! throughout the long line 
 Dart arrows of flame o'er the bewildered brine ; 
 The deafening thunder rolls spreading on high, 
 Its echoes flung back from the high vaultecl 
 
 sky :— 
 Then bellows along to Ionia's shore, 
 And stifles the sound of the ocean's faint roan 
 The battle's revelry began 
 With fir« ships near the Christian va?i ; 
 Throwing their orbs of flame afar. 
 In quick and desolating war : — 
 Then grappling with the foe engage, 
 And side by side., the conflict wage. 
 But thicker grows the fight ; — and high, 
 Columns of circling vapour fly ; 
 A thousand thunders roll around. 
 Mingled in one successive sound, 
 
BATTLE OF LEPANTO. 25 
 
 And spreading far volcanic breath, 
 Respire the ministers of Death. 
 
 You could not hear a shriek or cry, 
 
 But you might see the fragments fly, 
 
 And the torn sail, with loosened wing. 
 
 In the quick breeze convulsive spring ; 
 
 And shattered masts, and yard arms fall, 
 
 Cleft by the rapid — whizzing ball : 
 
 And from each deck the trickling blood 
 
 Dropping into the ocean flood. 
 
 Deep silence reigned short time before. 
 
 Now, — what infinity of roar ! 
 
 Now, — where that still, and scarce drawn, breath? 
 
 Here, is the very life of death ! 
 
 The soul steps forth in battle's hour, 
 
 Beams brightest when dark tempests lower ; 
 
 Shakes hands with Fate : — and triumph will 
 
 O'er death, — for death can only kill. 
 
 In armour clad, through battle's heat, 
 Where death and cordial glory meet ; 
 
26 BATTLE OF LEPANTO, 
 
 Colonna hastens, — giving life 
 And vigour to the busthng strife^ 
 No cravens, they of Moslem race, 
 Who brave the Christians face to face ; 
 Their Pagan zeal has made of them 
 Intrepid, battle-loving men. 
 Mahomet struck the chord, — when he 
 Proclaimed Life's immortality 
 Of choicest bliss, to those who fall 
 Where glory and their country call ; 
 Immediate Paradise receives, 
 The wearied soldier who believes ; 
 And round his temples houries twine 
 Laurels, for ever there to shine. 
 Forms fairer, brighter than the earth, 
 Can, from her crumbling clay, give birth ; 
 Whose melting, soft and sparkling eyes 
 Are full of Love and Paradise, 
 And on whose Heaven-heaving breast, 
 The warrior seeks — and finds — his rest. 
 No dark uncertainty or doubt 
 Assails him in the battle's rout ; 
 
BATTLE OF LEPANTO. 27 
 
 The path for him to heaven is clear 
 
 As the unsullied atmosphere. 
 
 Impatient to be borne along 
 
 From crowd of life to heaven's throng, 
 
 He revels in the hottest fight, 
 
 And strikes with heated passion's might. 
 
 And where his triumph ? — in his fall ; 
 For, hark ! the heavenly sisters call : — 
 And, through triumphant arch, 'tis given 
 His tired soul to enter heaven ; 
 And, over fields of perfumed flowers, 
 Saunters the soul to houries' bowers. 
 Who would not woo the barb of death ? 
 Who would not give, the hght toy, breath ? 
 Unknown another heaven of bliss. 
 To have his soul borne on to this ? 
 For his, or for his country's rights 
 And glory, Christ's believer fights ; 
 Yet, dubious of that unborn life, 
 Which dawns upon the close of strife, 
 He stifles doubt ; — and thought afar 
 Is driven by the rush of war ; 
 
28 BATTLE OF LEPANTO. 
 
 As fearless as the Moslem, he 
 Awaits the tide, Eternity : 
 But, in his book, there is not given 
 The Paynim certainty of heaven. 
 
 The flag, which waved proudly from Achmed's 
 
 high mast. 
 Streams shivered and torn as it curls with the 
 
 blast ; 
 The cordage and loosed sails are shattered and 
 
 rent. 
 But still on the foe his red fires he sent ; 
 A shot has brought down his torn flag to the 
 
 deck, 
 And his once gallant ship is beat down to a 
 
 wreck ; 
 But his line, yet unbroken, its long front opposes. 
 More fatally near with his opponent closes. 
 He strives now to board, — but the fickle wind 
 
 changed. 
 And altered the line he so carefully ranged ; 
 The smoke of the battle blew back on his crew, 
 And the ships of the enemy hid from his view. 
 
BATTLE OF LEPANTO. 29 
 
 Confusion around for a moment prevailed, — 
 More swift on his squadrons the Christians 
 
 assailed ; 
 Colonna bore on with the strength of his line, 
 Like a hero approaching to victory's shrine. 
 The Turkish line wavered an instant, — but then 
 Quickly rallied, and came to the battle again ; — 
 Again it is broken, — pierced, — scattered afar, 
 But combatting still with the madness of war : 
 And shouts of '' Mahomet !"— and "Alia lu- 
 ring high. 
 But Mahomet nor Alia respond to the cry. 
 
 Rigid Achmed stood silent, and gazed on the deck, 
 His flashing eye glanced o'er the blood-covered 
 
 wreck ; — 
 The God, whom he called on, was deaf to his 
 
 prayer, — 
 Yet, cool and resolved, he stood combatting care: 
 His head he hung down but an instant, — and then 
 Drew his arms in a fold on his bosom again. 
 " In vain, valiant Omar ! for conquest we fight, — 
 
30 BATTLE OF LEPANTO. 
 
 And my soul scorns to turn from the Christians in 
 
 flight ! 
 We have fought as becomes the true sons of the 
 
 brave, 
 And the blood of our brothers has mix'd with the 
 
 wave ; 
 Yet, Alia opposes ; — though unequal in might. 
 Did He not resist, we could yet win the fight. 
 But our hopes are all blasted : — now, Omar, the 
 
 match ! 
 There's a deed to be done, thou wilt proudly 
 
 despatch ; 
 The train is prepared, — and I only await 
 Thy hand, to fulfil our triumph o'er Fate ; 
 Thou hast nerve, — then, away ! and with resolute 
 
 hand. 
 Wake the thunder of Death from thy fluttering 
 
 brand." 
 
 Wheeling and circling toward the skies, 
 A cloud of compact darkness flies ; — 
 And, in an angle, from the deep. 
 The fragments of a vessel sweep ; 
 
BATTLE OF LEPANTO. 31 
 
 A lightning column flashes far, 
 More brilliant than the glare of war : 
 Like deep, concentred thunder's roll, 
 A voice of roar bursts on the soul. 
 The riven corse, — the shattered spar 
 Are driven, in a whirl, afar, 
 Tracing their orbit over sea, 
 In rapid flight and fearfully ; 
 Then falhng, with a splintering crash, 
 Into the frightened ocean plash. 
 And, on that vaulting thunder, fled. 
 To the dark region of the dead, 
 Unconquered souls, — too proud for life. 
 When thwarted in the hour of strife. 
 Thus Omar answered Achmed's call, — 
 'Twas thus they triumphed in their fall. 
 
 The vessels around, from the concussion, reel,— • 
 
 Deep silence succeeded the starthng peel ; 
 
 There came forth, in one cry, rapturous victory's 
 yell, 
 
 The Christian's proud triumph, and proud Mos- 
 lem's knell. 
 
32 BATTLE OP LEPANTO. 
 
 The Turks' full crowded canvass is swelling in 
 
 flight, 
 And give to despair, all their hopes in the fight ; 
 Some escape, — some are taken, — some sunk in 
 
 the fray. 
 Some still give a shot as they hurry away. 
 Though Mahomet's believers their fleet could not 
 
 save. 
 Yet that triumph was bought by the blood of the 
 
 brave. 
 Whose corses untombed, with the freshened 
 
 breeze, roam 
 Afar on the ocean, and far from their home. 
 And long shall the sires of Venice bewail 
 The day when their sons for Lepanto set sail ; 
 And maidens in anguish, half mad with despair. 
 From their heads shall tear wildly the dishevelled 
 
 hair ; 
 And sisters and mothers unsolaced shall weep 
 The youth who went forth to their graves on the 
 
 deep. 
 
^- 
 
 BATTLE OF LEPANTO. 33 
 
 No longer rolls along the shore, 
 The cannon's deep and bellowing roar ; 
 Nor flashes from the threatening tier, 
 The lightning of the cannonier ; 
 Nor fleetly skips from wave to wave, 
 The ball which meant to give a grave, 
 But failed its object, — fell in vain, 
 To moulder 'neath the rocking main : 
 Nor wheels its curving flight through air, 
 The fatal shell with hissing glare. 
 Falling upon the bustling deck. 
 Around to spread a fearful wreck. 
 The cry — the roar — the crash is o'er, 
 And havoc ravages no more. 
 The mist of battle rises high. 
 Mingling its vapour with the sky. 
 And leaves the heated atmosphere, 
 From sulphurous exhalations clear. 
 The startled and awaken'd deep 
 Begins again its broken sleep. 
 
 Over the billows, from Lepanto's bay, 
 A Turkish vessel holds her lonely way ; 
 
34 BATTLE OF LEPANTO. 
 
 Her sails are shattered, and her bulwarks rent, 
 Her sides are, with t he iron circles, dent ; 
 Her remnant flag waves sluggishly and slow, 
 Meeting the breezes as they come and go. 
 But on her deck there is no play of strife. 
 The game is lost, and swept the stakes of life ; 
 But stifled groans and curses loud are there, — 
 And dying anguish greets thy shrine, Despair ! 
 And maniac voices shriek with fearful cry. 
 Whilst those now fear, who did not dread, to die. 
 The illusion bright that gilt the hour of war, 
 The thrill — the hope and passion are afar, — 
 The phantom vision, and the trumpet's call. 
 No longer lure them to a sudden fall ; 
 And death stalks coolly to his certain prey, 
 Bearing his victims leisurely away. 
 
 And, stretched upon a pallet, might be seen 
 One, of the Christian garb, and haughty mien. 
 But pale ; — and, clotted on his open breast. 
 The stagnant blood had stain'd his purple vest ; 
 He lifts his eye-lids, and with vacant stare, 
 The large orbs glisten, but seem fix'd on air, — 
 
BATTLE OF LEPANTO, 35 
 
 And then he saw, — he knew, — and cursed the 
 
 hour. 
 That gave him Hving to a Moslem's power. 
 But yesterday, in freedom and in pride, 
 He stemmed the torrent of the battle's tide, 
 Leading his squadron through the maze of fight, 
 And dealing fatal fire from left to right ; — 
 And now a prisoner — wounded — and alone, 
 With nought, save his dull, gloomy thoughts, — 
 
 his own. 
 He thought on Venice, — on the maid he left, 
 And aged mother of her son bereft, — 
 And then cold moisture on his forehead came, — 
 Backward he fell with weak, exhausted frame. 
 
 But those around him, from the beggared bed, 
 Lifted him, drooping with a languid head ; 
 Alone he stood, — yet scarce sustained his weight. 
 An infant tottering in the hands of Fate. 
 Then on his limbs the iron yokes they bind, 
 And link the handcuffs with a chain behind, 
 And round his breast a heavy shot they chained, 
 
36 BATTLE OF LEPANTO. 
 
 Leaving him feeble, — bleeding, — fettered, — 
 
 maimed ; 
 He fell upon his face, — and, in that hour, 
 His wretched limbs could not exert the power 
 To turn or move, — and motionless he lay, 
 As a cold figure of the entombed clay. 
 Oh, for an hour of luscious vengeance given, 
 Then dear to him as was the hope of heaven ! 
 But hope came not, — and o'er his fallen frame, 
 A torpid horror quivered as it came ; 
 Remembrance pitying, spread her wing in flight, 
 Aud robed his senses in the garb of night. 
 
 The crippled vessel, needful of repair. 
 
 Now claims attention, and the seamen's care ; 
 
 They close examine, counsel, and debate. 
 
 Upon her leaky and disabled state ; 
 
 For some near isle resolve to bear away, 
 
 And, in the quiet of some lonely bay. 
 
 Repair her shattered spars and timbers riven, 
 
 With deadlier bolts than flash from angry heaven. 
 
 Hard by the entrance to Lepanto's bay, 
 
 Rise broken islands from the ocean's spray ; 
 
r 
 
 BATTLE OF LEPANTO. 37 
 
 And for the nearest they conclude to sail, 
 Trimming their canvass to the lively gale. 
 The dying soon are dead, — as soon the wave 
 Engulphs their bodies in its spacious grave. 
 The decks are cleansed, — the thick and slimy 
 
 gore 
 Appears upon the whitened planks no more ; 
 The wounded, crowded in their births below, 
 Give but few groans, in murmurs faint and low. 
 
 See, — the far island from the wave emerge, 
 Like a blue cloud upon the horizon's verge, 
 So faintly traced, that the discerning eye 
 Can scarce subtract it from the mingliog sky ; 
 The distant lines more plainly marked appear, 
 And the blue hills grow brighter and more near, 
 Till you may see the breakers wash the shore. 
 And hear them burst with sohtary roar : 
 The trees start forth upon the slanting hills. 
 And down the mountains rush the broken rills. 
 Far into ocean juts a point of land. 
 Sloping its summit to a beach of sand, 
 
 3* 
 
38 BATTLE OF LEPANTO. 
 
 Around whose cape there is a circling bay, 
 For which the vessel holds her steady way. 
 The cape is doubled ; — still and calm the sea. 
 Without a billow, sleeps there quietly ; 
 The anchor's ready : — on its darksome way 
 Sudden it plunges in the glassy bay. 
 
 The boats are launched, — and to the sandy shore, 
 The sailors pull with long and bending oar, 
 The cumbrous load conveying from the deck, 
 To lighten and reheve their feeble wreck ; 
 And bear the sea stores to the yellow sand. 
 Heaping their burden on the level land. 
 The lonely bark seems now a lifeless thing, 
 Or, bird of flight with close and fettered wing ; 
 No more she starts the chrystal from her beak. 
 Sporting with ocean in her wanton freak. 
 But sullen, silent, — motionless and lone. 
 She breaks no billow, flings no wreath of foam. 
 Now, — how unhke that busy thing of strife ! 
 Which purpled ocean with the blood of life, 
 And sent her thunder rolling o'er the wave, 
 The noisy herald of the quiet grave. 
 
BATTLE OF LEPANTO. 39 
 
 Ite- 
 
 Once more, but not in freedom, on the earth 
 Colonna stood ; — ^before him was the dearth 
 Of waters, — and above, the cloudless sky, 
 Toward which he turned with glistening eye ; 
 In quiet prayer, he asked of heaven to give 
 Freedom on earth, or not on earth to live ; 
 To waft him far beyond the beating wave, 
 Or grant him, man's best boon, an early grave. 
 He tried in vain to bring his soul to bear 
 The atlas burden of all crushing care ; 
 To rise o'er fate, and let his spirits soar, 
 Free and victorious over clime and shore : 
 Forgetful of the fretting chains that bind 
 The crawling matter to the restless mind. 
 The darkest clouds will to his fancy roll. 
 And not a flash of hope illumes his soul ; 
 All hail. Despair ! a willing votary calls, 
 And asks admittance to thy gloomy halls. 
 
 Drooping in heart, — he staggered on the strand. 
 That traced its way around the sea wrapt land ; 
 The busy Moslems, careless of their charge. 
 Left him unwatched alone to roam at large. 
 
40 BATTLE OF LEPANTO. 
 
 So weak — and helpless, — that no fear had they 
 To lose upon the isle their dear bought prey. 
 Along the margin of the silent bay, 
 Upon the beach he traced his gloomy way, 
 Until the broader ocean greets the shore, 
 And rolls its breakers with a louder roar ; 
 The lavish sea-breeze freshened as it came. 
 But lent no freshness to his waning frame ; 
 The playful sea bird darted swift and free. 
 Across the air, or skimmed along the sea : 
 The mountains were behind him, high and still, 
 Save song of bird, and melody of rill ; 
 But these unheeded, gave no charm for him, 
 Sickened at heart, and weary in each limb. 
 
 Upon the shore^ near to the place he stood, 
 Some objects, washed up by the ocean flood. 
 Attract his eye ; — they seem a parted wreck. 
 With broken beams, and fragments of a deck. 
 Spread on the sand ; — strewed in a hne they lay, 
 As ocean left them with her bubbling spray. 
 With feeble step towards the spot he went, 
 Upon the fragments fixed his eye intent ; 
 
BATTLE OF LEPANTO. 41 
 
 It was a recent wreck, — and far around, 
 The breathless bodies of her crew he found ; 
 Some yet, in death clung to the buoyant spar, 
 Which faithful bore them o'er the wave afar, 
 Giving unto their parent earth again, 
 The clay it rescued from the eager main : 
 And some had lashed them to the timbers fast. 
 In hope of succour, or escape at last ; 
 And some were gashed and wounded in the strife 
 Of man with billow struggling for a life. 
 But, ah ! there comes upon his roving sight, 
 A female figure in a garb of white, 
 Stretched stiff in death upon the sunny strand, 
 Her locks unbound and curling on the sand ; 
 Her garments wet, — her red lips half apart. 
 One sea bleached hand upon her throbless heart. 
 The other hidden in her jet black hair, 
 That fluttered lightly with each mountain air. 
 Her eye-lids were unclosed, — but Death had set 
 His icy stamp upon the glossy jet 
 Of her large eye, — all loveless, tearless now, 
 Cold as the marble of her sea beat brow. 
 One look Colonna gave, — a sudden start, 
 
42 BATTLE OF LEPANTQ. 
 
 As if the life-blood curdled in his heart ; 
 
 A flashing radiance to his dim eye came, 
 
 And fitful shuddering trembled through his frame : 
 
 Then, into one wild laugh he burst, — and fell 
 
 Upon the form, he knew — alas ! — too well. 
 
 The restless sun has sunk beneath the sea, 
 The birds have fled for slumber to the tree ; 
 The ceaseless billows with their hollow roar, 
 Still heave their foam specks on the island shore : 
 The stream still tumbles from the shaded hill, 
 But all, save these, with sleepy night are still. 
 The moon came stealing softly from on high, 
 Striding in glory through the unbroken sky. 
 And flung her lamp of gold upon the wave. 
 That mirrored back the wasteful hght she gave, 
 Silent Colonna sate ; — the maiden's breast 
 Sustained his head, where, in a peaceful rest. 
 Silent he slumbered — and so hushed his breath, 
 'Twas like the tranquil quietude of death. 
 There was no start, — no broken dream was there, 
 You'd think the slumberer was no child of care,; 
 
BATTLE OF LEPANTO. 43 
 
 So peaceful was the youthful lover's rest, 
 With head reposing on the maiden's breast. 
 
 The sun came up : — Aurora light and free 
 Drove her white steeds across the brightening 
 
 sea ; 
 But never more shall gorgeous Phoebus Hght, 
 From the deep slumber of that quiet night, 
 The maid and lover ; — on that lonely shore, 
 Ocean may break, and send her wildest roar, 
 But cannot startle from his holy rest, 
 Colonna — dead — on Isidora's breast. 
 
 It chanced a stranger's eye beheld the pair. 
 As on one morn he careless rambled there, 
 From the light sand he scooped a shielding grave. 
 Upon the margin of the sparkling wave, 
 And gave the rites, which dust from dust may 
 
 claim, 
 A little earth to sprinkle o'er our frame. 
 
44 
 
 THE 
 
 FALL OF DELHI 
 
 Through yon dark citron groves appear 
 
 The flashings of the Moslem spear, 
 
 And the bright glance of scimitar 
 
 Gives token of approaching war ; 
 
 The Tartar's host is swift advancing, 
 
 The foaming Arab steeds are prancing, 
 
 Eager to join in battle's fray, 
 
 And share the riot of the day. 
 
 But silent they in Delhi's halls. 
 
 No arms beam bright upon her walls. 
 
 And on her ramparts, where should be 
 
 The best of Indian chivalry, 
 
 No clash of steel, — no busthng hum, — 
 
 No din of war, nor rolhng drum ; 
 
THE FALL OF DELHL 45 
 
 But all are still, nor seem to know 
 The near progression of the foe, 
 Now scarce a bow-shot from the walls, 
 And yet no warning sentry calls : 
 Strange, that, without a single blow. 
 The fort should yield to untried foe. 
 
 On come the hosts of Tamerlane, 
 
 A moment jnore, and then in vain, 
 
 Delhians ! will be attempt at strife, 
 
 Strike while you may, nor value life ! 
 
 Ye craven cowards ! dare to die ; 
 
 Better to fall, than unscathed fly ! 
 
 Your homes, your wives, your sires — and all 
 
 Before the coming foe must fall : 
 
 Timour spares neither age nor race. 
 
 Then strike ! for 'tis the given place. 
 
 Too late ! for by a Delhian hand, 
 
 Open the gates to Timour's band. 
 
 And not a sword is drawn in strife, 
 
 No one bestows, or takes a hfe ; 
 
 But all ingloriously gave. 
 
 Without a faint attempt to save, 
 
46 THE FALL OF DELHL 
 
 City and rampart to the foe, 
 But not a blade to lay them low. 
 
 In that fortress strong there once were men 
 
 With nerve to strike ; — why not again ? 
 
 And those ramparts now so hushed and still, 
 
 Is the power there, but not the will ? 
 
 Or has treachery played her double part, 
 
 And the way been won by her damning art ? 
 
 That day had been a day of feast, 
 
 And in luxury revelled the sons of the east, 
 
 Paynim and Gentoo alike were gay, 
 
 x\nd dance and song chased hours away ; 
 
 There were revel and riot throughout the halls, 
 
 And their dance was that of the bacchanals. 
 
 A dream of sorrow was not there. 
 
 All eyes were bright with pleasure's glare, 
 
 And hearts were beating light and free. 
 
 And all intent on revelry. 
 
 Too careless even to bestow 
 
 A thought on danger or a foe. 
 
THE FALL OF DELHI. 47 
 
 The Musselman monarch fill'd his throne, 
 And thought the sceptre still his own ; 
 Nor dreams that danger o'er him waits, — 
 His trusty guards are at the gates, 
 Alarm to give, if there perchance 
 Should unexpected foe advance. 
 A few more hours, and, monarch 1 thou 
 Must bring that bauble from thy brow ; 
 The foe thy ancient city greets, 
 And leads his ranks along thy streets. 
 The mercy-loving Tamerlane, 
 Who gives for diadems— a chain — 
 Has won thy ramparts, — and thy throne 
 Will claim, in right of might, his own : 
 Thy trusty guards, less true than gold, 
 Hindostan's capital have sold. 
 
 Bright beam the lights on Delhi's walls. 
 And music echoes from her halls ; 
 But flashes there a brighter light. 
 Along the sable arch of night. 
 Than that by festal lanterns shed. 
 Or in the long procession led : 
 
48 THE FALL OF DELHL 
 
 And breaks there too another sound, 
 Than that which gladdens festive ground. 
 The conflagration rises high, 
 Gilding the dark and iron sky. 
 And throws its red, volcanic glare 
 Of bickering flame afar in air. 
 Harkl clarion shrill and pealing drum 
 Proclaim a warlike host has come. 
 
 TJie startled revellers burst away 
 From song of mirth and roundelay ; 
 Well known the cause to those within, 
 They hasten to the rolling din, 
 Where, mounted in his brazen car, 
 Comes rattling on the god of war. 
 But they the combat cannot wield. 
 With noble foe in open field, 
 Here is the butchery of strife, 
 With scarce a chance to strike for life ; 
 The bloodhound hordes no quarter show, 
 But deal an indiscriminate blow. 
 And age and dark -eyed beauty feel 
 The keenness of barbarian steel. 
 
THE FALL OP DELHL 49 
 
 Through the deep stillness of the night 
 Rings the loud clashing of the fight ; 
 But how can scattered mortals stand, 
 Against a formed, and well armed band ? 
 No time to form in ranks for fight, 
 No chance to seek escape in flight, 
 Certain to die if captive made ; 
 The only trust is in the blade, 
 And that how vain ! — before his door, 
 The father sells his purple gore ; 
 Himself against a host opposes. 
 And in the fatal conflict closes. 
 For succour in the struggle calls, 
 Yet needs it not, for now he falls. 
 The maiden with her budding charms. 
 Sinks fainting in her lover's arms ; 
 Left arm around her waist he clasps, 
 And in his right a sabre grasps, 
 With love's wild fury deals a blow. 
 Another aims, — he too is low. 
 
) THE FALL OF DELHL 
 
 Red roll the plashing waves of gore, 
 A fountain flows from every door, 
 And Carnage, eager in the fray, 
 Marks for her sons a crimson way ; 
 Who relish well the dastard strife. 
 Where ten from one may win a life. 
 If, from the dungeon caves of hell, 
 Where spirits cursed are doomed to dwell, 
 A troop of fiends should burst their way. 
 And find once more the sunhght ray ; i 
 Bring them with mortals face to face. 
 And show the horrors of this place. 
 The very devils would disown 
 Their kindred as a race their own. 
 And howling hasten back to tell. 
 What demons on this planet dwell. 
 
 With back braced firm against the wall. 
 The sire has seen his last son fall, 
 And o'er the bubbling lake of slaughter, 
 From mother torn, his shrieking daughter. 
 No refuge now,- — and cold despair 
 Has fixed his stony mansion there ; 
 
THE FALL OF DELHI. 51 
 
 Yet fights he still, — of all bereft ; 
 
 Save Hfe, and that alone is left : 
 
 His locks are snow, — yet boils his heart, 
 
 And vengeance plays a noble part. 
 
 His hope has gone, and life not dear, 
 
 All now, except the grave, looks drear ; 
 
 His every household god is broken, 
 
 Nor left of home a single token. 
 
 And panting beauty, faint and weak. 
 
 Hath hushed her last and shuddering shriek :-^ 
 
 The sons before their sire have bled, 
 
 For him have joined the mangled dead. 
 
 Around the butchers press more fast, 
 The sire fights with them to the last ; 
 He knows full soon he must be low : 
 But, mark ! the fury of that blow, 
 And lightning lustre of his eye, 
 Proclaims that he knows how to die. 
 His arm is red, and red his breast, 
 Where life remains no welcome guest ; 
 There is a gash upon his brow. 
 The old man reels and totters now. 
 
52 THE FAIxL OF DELHI. 
 
 Another gash ! — the strife is past, 
 And death has come with rest at last. 
 The phrenzied husband grasps a knife, 
 To rend the bosom of his wife, 
 Then hides the blade within his own, 
 And laughs, but utters not a groan ; 
 Or furious hurls the flaring brand. 
 And hghts his home with reckless hand, 
 Gives wife and sisters blazing graves, 
 Certain escape from fate of slaves. 
 
 With jewels in their glossy hair. 
 
 Of lustre bright and value rare, 
 
 And necks, which twining collars hold 
 
 Of unalloyed and Indian gold ; 
 
 On arms and fingers sparkling rings. 
 
 Fit to adorn the brides of kings. 
 
 The Delhian maids, by ruffians strong. 
 
 Through paths of blood are dragged along. 
 
 And hurried by their fathers' graves. 
 
 Friendless, and orphans, — victims, slaves ! 
 
 Where now the song of heedless glee, 
 
 And vivid flash of revelry ? 
 
THE FALL OF DELHL 53 
 
 Part of the guests are in their graves, 
 The remnant wear the links of slaves. 
 
 In Delhi is a castle old, 
 With towering walls and turrets bold, 
 Girt with a thousand pillars round. 
 And looking over battle ground ; 
 Spacious and splendid are its halls. 
 And thick and strong its bastion walls ; 
 Built by an ancient Indian king, 
 When with a gay, unfettered wing. 
 Freedom was young, and sported wild 
 Like froward and unchastened child : 
 Before the tide of conquest ran. 
 Or Ghiznian dynasty began. 
 The town is sacked, — yet steel and fire 
 Have left insatiate Timour's ire ; 
 A few there yet remain to kill, — 
 A few more hearts have blood to spill. 
 The living to the palace speed, 
 To gain an hour before they bleed ; 
 All well determined, in the strife, 
 Nothing to yield except a life. 
 
54 
 
 THE FALL OF DELHI. 
 
 Maidens and striplings, but few, are there, 
 
 And they the children of despair ; 
 
 No hope to innocence is given, 
 
 Except a bloody path to heaven. 
 
 The searching foes are on the stair, 
 
 Carnage has found a passage there ; 
 
 Scaled are the high and heavy walls, 
 
 And Timour's bands are in those halls, 
 
 Where the last daughters of Delhi have gather- 
 ed in gloom, 
 
 Of their lovers and brothers to share in the 
 doom. 
 
 But here the struggle soon is o'er, 
 And on the red and slippery floor 
 But few are striving, — here and there 
 A group still battling appear ; 
 There lies a youth his last breath gasping. 
 But still in death his sabre clasping, 
 And prostrate falling by his side, 
 One, he had hoped to call his bride. 
 And here a wild, dishevelled maid 
 Snatches the hot and gory blade, 
 
THE FALL OF DELHI. 55 
 
 Forth from her lover's frigid breast ; 
 And to his brow her warm hps prest ; 
 Feels for his heart ; — it does not beat, — 
 It matters not, — they soon will meet : 
 And there a frantic girl appears, 
 Rising above her woman fears, 
 Striving in vain to pierce a foe. 
 Who takes, and scorns her feeble blow. 
 
 The work of blood is done for all, 
 And silence reigns throughout the hall. 
 Save, in yon corner rings a clashing, 
 And pohsh'd steel continues flashing ; 
 Where blood-smeared host of eager foes. 
 Round the young, wearied Azem close : — 
 The last of Delhi's youth he stands, 
 To fall, but not with idle hands. 
 Not for his life he strives, but her 
 Who, by his side a wanderer. 
 Has followed him through battle's blast. 
 Nor will she leave him at the last ; 
 Come fate that may ! for her he strove, 
 His first, his last, and only love. 
 
56 THE FALL OF DELHL 
 
 Three of the group lie drench'd with gore, 
 
 Their souls despatched to Eblis' shore ; 
 
 The fourth comes on, — their sabres clash, 
 
 And, like a shooting air-star, flash ; — 
 
 Each parries well the coming steel, 
 
 An unseen blow makes Azem reel. 
 
 Dealt by a dastard in the rear. 
 
 Who dare not, face to face, appear. 
 
 His left arm has received a wound. 
 
 But still his right, in fight, goes round ; 
 
 Another base and craven blow 
 
 Has made the blood from temples flow ; 
 
 But, blow for blow, in front he deals 
 
 In rapid strokes, — then rapid wheels 
 
 From left to right, and turns again 
 
 To deal another blow, in. vain. 
 
 But Azem's arm grows faint and weak, — 
 
 He turned and saw pale Rada's cheek. 
 
 And half unclosed, beseeching eye, 
 
 As if to say, " Oh ! do not die V 
 
 With utmost fury of despair. 
 
 And dying strength concentred there, 
 
THE FALL OF DELHI. 57 
 
 He raised bis arm to send a blow ;— 
 That arm falls powerless and low ; — 
 Tbe steel, drove deeply in bis side, 
 Brings fortb tbe redly rusbing tide : 
 And staggering towards, his love, be fell, 
 Without the strength to lisp — " Farewell !" 
 
 Jewels are torn from beauty's hair, 
 
 But not a voice of grief is there ; 
 
 From arms and waists, the gbttering clasps 
 
 Of virgin gold, the assassin grasps. 
 
 Leaving tbe once warm bosom bare, 
 
 Now scarce of life an ember there ; 
 
 And well luxuriance of prey 
 
 Rewards the spoilers of the day. 
 
 Rada was beauty's richest pearl, 
 
 A dark eyed, dark haired Indian girl, 
 
 Bright as her sun,— and loving wild. 
 
 Nature's untaught and artless child ; 
 
 And warm are the daughters of India's clime, 
 
 There affection and feeling exultingly shine, 
 
 And that bright glow of ardour, you love to 
 
 caress, 
 5 
 
^g THE FALL OF DELHI. 
 
 Flows rapid and full to the fast throbbing 
 
 breast. 
 For whom had Rada cherished love ? 
 Whom, but the youth who for her strove, 
 And fell in fight ;— the Indian sun 
 Ne'er shed his light on such a one ; 
 And though he came of Moslem race, 
 Delhi was his loved, native place, 
 And foes to Delhi were his own, 
 Striving with whom he fell alone. 
 In groups the maidens lay around : 
 Though quieted the battle's sound, 
 They move not ; — yet the faint drawn breath, 
 Fluttering amid the crowd of death, 
 Betrays that only partial rest 
 Is given to the beating breast ; 
 But there are those whose heart shall never 
 Beat life again, — -now hushed forever. 
 Those who from lovers would not part. 
 Until the life blood left the heart. 
 Young Rada was the loveliest prize 
 That sparkled to their eager eyes ; 
 
THE FALL OF DELHL 59 
 
 She seemed an houri torn from heaven, — 
 To whom shall such rich prize be given ? 
 
 Timour sits high on his new throne, 
 
 And Delhi's riches are his own ; 
 
 A hundred elephants of war, 
 
 From Ceylon's mountain island far ; 
 
 A thousand weeping virgin slaves, 
 
 Dragged from their sires' new made graves, 
 
 Are of his spoil, — with gold untold 
 
 Into his spacious coffers rolled, 
 
 And costly jewels, rarest gems, 
 
 To place in future diadems. 
 
 His sycophants have riches too. 
 
 The meanest vassal of his crew 
 
 Has slaves and gold, reward for toil 
 
 In gathering the harvest spoil. 
 
 '•' Pir Mahomed I I have for thee, 
 A prize of richest rarity ! 
 The brightest jewel of the east, 
 That ever shone at regal feast. 
 
 :^> 
 
60 THE FALL OF DELHL 
 
 Nor half so bright or rare as this, 
 And king might boast to call her his ; 
 But I the maid to thee resign, 
 Nor, from this hour, will deem her mine : 
 And this in token given thee, 
 Of lasting faith and amity." 
 Timour thus to his kinsman spoke, 
 Who then in answer silence broke : 
 
 '' Great ^Saheb Karan ! dear shall be 
 The gem which thou hast given me. 
 Prized higher for the donor's sake. 
 Than riches could the token make ; 
 The precious prize I have not seen, 
 But know she is of noble mien. 
 And rarest beauty, — may I crave 
 To see the young and lovely slave ? 
 By Al Koran I swear to thee, 
 Lasting and firm fidehty I 
 
 * Saheh Karan — " Conqueror of the world ;^^ a title 
 given Tamerlane by his contemporaries. 
 
THE FALL OF DELHI. ^, 
 
 And may high Alia never shield 
 
 Me struggling on the battle field, 
 
 And may I never have a grave, 
 But rot an unsepultured slave, 
 Nor ever F.natch a houri's kiss, 
 In Moslem paradise of bliss ! 
 If false to thee I ever prove, 
 Or ever fail in loyal love." 
 
 The monarch beckoned to a slave, 
 
 Who knew the sign his master gave ; 
 
 And through a narrow, hiirh arched door 
 
 Which opened on the council floor, 
 
 A close veiled litter born by slaves, 
 
 Came with the prize the young prince craves. 
 
 Pir Mahomed, to feast his eyes, 
 
 Hastes toward the new and unseen prize, 
 
 Undraws the veil, — why does he start. 
 
 As if an adder stung his heart ? — 
 
 Rada was there, — but pulse and breath 
 
 Had fled before the chase of death ; 
 
 Her eye half closed looked melting still, 
 
 And down her side a purple rill 
 5* 
 
Q2 THE FALL OF DELHL 
 
 Had traced its way, — deep in her breast, 
 Where reigned the sanctity of rest, 
 Was Azem's dagger ; — on her brow 
 There rests a holy calmness now ; 
 And o'er her bosom her loosed hair, 
 Rolled down and lay in clusters there. 
 
 Her young and pHant limbs as yet, 
 Were not in that chill stiffness set. 
 Which, when extinct the vivid flame. 
 Marbles and petrifies the frame ; 
 And on her brow there still was heat, 
 But, oh I — her heart — it would not beat 1 
 She was the loveliest thing of breath. 
 That ever knelt at shrine of death, 
 Sending to heaven a dying prayer, 
 To meet some lost and loved one there. 
 Here was the majesty of death. 
 Which wreaths its halo, when the breath 
 Hath left its throne, — how soon in gloom, 
 We give that glory to the tomb 1 
 A king whose power we all confess, 
 Crouch to, in equal littleness. 
 
THE FALL OF DELHL 63 
 
 Who binds the bonds we all must wear, 
 Fetters, which prince and peasant share. 
 
 Delhi is sacked ; — and Tamerlane 
 Hath paid a visit not in vain ; 
 No gold is left : — the ruined wall, 
 And smoking, lone, abandoned hall 
 Send up a thick and murky gloom. 
 Announcing far the city's doom. 
 Timour has gone to seek more foes, 
 And act another scene of woes. 
 
64 
 
 THE 
 
 TRIAL OF VENUS 
 
 The gods, in old times, when their godships were 
 plenty, 
 On Olympus assembled in conclave divine ; 
 Where a quorum was formed to the number of 
 twenty, 
 And the Father presided at justice's shrine. 
 
 A petition was read from complaining terres- 
 trials, 
 Addressed to the senate, the gods, and to 
 Jove ; 
 And they prayed, that the high and most mighty 
 celestials 
 Would try, at next session, the goddess of love. 
 
THE TRIAL OF VENUS. 65 
 
 For, they said, she had filled the whole earth with 
 confusion, 
 Had embattled the legions of Greece and of 
 Troy; 
 That her presence on earth was officious intru- 
 sion ; 
 And vengeance demanded on her and her boy. 
 
 The gods too had suffered, they boldly averred, 
 All Olympus had knelt at the altar of love ; 
 Great Jove's warlike son she had fearless unnerv- 
 ed, 
 Which her lawful spouse Vulcan was ready to 
 prove. 
 
 That the unsullied Daphne, a god had insulted ; 
 
 That Venus had acted a treacherous part ; 
 That all earth had in truth been most vilely cor- 
 rupted ; 
 And mortals deceived by her sinister art. 
 
 The petition thus read, — in mature consultation. 
 The divan continued with learned debate ; 
 
66 THE TRIAL OF VENUS. 
 
 'Till the Father arose, and with great gravitation, 
 Addressed thus the throng of the heavenly 
 state. 
 
 " Olympian members ! the cause I have weighed. 
 Your attention I crave whilst I give the decree ; 
 
 Let Venus be called, — be this mandate obeyed 1 
 But bring her before me unfettered and free !" 
 
 Through the great hall of state arose then confu- 
 sion, 
 As Thaha and Clotho obeyed the command ; 
 And Venus arrested, — she thought, some delu- 
 sion, 
 This summons to meet the Olympian band. 
 
 The members arose as she entered the hall, 
 Leading Cupid along with his arrows and bow ; 
 
 Majestic she moved towards the sovereign of all. 
 And before his rich throne knelt obsequiously 
 low. 
 
THE TRIAL OP VENUS. 67 
 
 As she knelt, bathed in tears, at the foot of his 
 throne, 
 With her hand moving fast to the throb of her 
 heart ; 
 The boy seemed to play with her radiant zone, 
 But slyly drew forth from his quiver a dart. 
 
 '< Ah, Venus! I grieve thus to see thee arrested," 
 Cried Jove, as he stooped with an extended 
 hand, 
 " Our precincts with guilt and with shame are in- 
 fested, 
 And thou must be punished hy our command." 
 
 " Oh, Jove 1" she exclaimed, with faltering emo- 
 tion. 
 As her zone she unloosed from her beautiful 
 breast ; 
 Whilst her bosom beat high, like the waves of the 
 ocean. 
 When by whispering zephyrs at even caressed. 
 
g8 THE TRIAL OF VENUS. 
 
 Her liquid locks rolled o'er her beautiful shoulder, 
 And played in the curve of her matchless neck ; 
 
 The gods would, in vain, such a form seek to 
 moulder. 
 Or features with Venus's beauty to deck. 
 
 '^ By this cestus I" she cried, which she careless 
 flung 
 
 I^rom her waist, as she wiped her tearful eye ; 
 " By the sacred tablets yonder hung, 
 
 By all on earth, and all of sky ! 
 
 I swear, I guiltless kneel before thee ! 
 
 As guiltless as this artless boy ; 
 Both now are wretched, and implore thee. 
 
 Our brightest hopes not to destroy." 
 
 The artful urchin hasty caught 
 
 His bow, and aimed with matchless art ; 
 
 The arrow, deep with passion fraught. 
 Leaped to the thunderer's regal heart. 
 
TRIAL OF VENUS. 69 
 
 The wily goddess quickly flung 
 
 Her unclasped zone with grace around her ; 
 Whilst from the crowd applauses rung, 
 
 Of all the graces which surround her. 
 
 " Oh, Jove! remember the sacred mountain, 
 The cloud that veiled its lofty brow ; 
 
 The murmuring of its bubbling fountain, 
 And say, wilt thou condemn me now ? ^ 
 
 Dost remember the smiles of the gentle Leda, 
 The grace of Europa, her form and eye ; 
 
 The voluptuous arms of the fair iEgina, 
 And art thou deaf unto my cry ?" 
 
 The exhausted goddess backward sunk, 
 And upward rolled her melting eye ; 
 
 The sire, with Cupid's poison drunk. 
 Beckoned to Hebe standing by. 
 
 " To the goddess take thy cup of gold, 
 And press the wine to her quivering lip ; 
 
70 ▼ TRIAL OF VENUS. 
 
 For her the sacre^ hquor hold, 
 The nectar thl^elestials sip." 
 
 The virgin Hebe kneR "before her, 
 
 With ready cup and outstretched hand ; 
 
 And held the sacred goblet for her, 
 Obedient to her sire's command. 
 
 Ah li where was justice ? she was sleeping 
 Neglected in the thunderer's breast ; 
 
 Great Jove gazed on the goddess weeping, 
 And sighed, — let passion tell the rest. 
 
 Minerva arose, for her sageness exalted, 
 
 The well beloved daughter, and counsellor of 
 Jove^ 
 She maintain^ that her sire had weakly default- 
 ed. 
 And fallen a victim to the power of love. 
 
 "- Arouse," she exclaimed, "from thy lethargic 
 
 slumber, 
 
 .It 
 And burst from the toils of yon deity's net 
 
TRIAL OF VENUS. <# 71 
 
 With the outcasts of heaven the prisoner number, 
 That justice's ends may be rightfully met !" 
 
 '^ Forbear!" thundered Jove, " though with mercy 
 we temper, 
 Yet justice escapes not, an Olympian decree ; 
 From the fate that she merits we will not exempt 
 her, 
 Nor a partial decision be wrested from m^ 
 
 Hear, Venus Urania ! thyself and thy boy, 
 
 From the precincts of heaven, we banish for- 
 ever ! 
 
 An exile from heaven, be thy iliestiny, Joy, 
 
 Though Olympus command thee to visit her 
 
 Then through the senate there arose 
 
 A whispering murmur 'gainst the measure, 
 
 That Jove should subject to such woes. 
 Their loving, laughing queen of pleasure. 
 
72 TRIAL OF VENUS. 
 
 The trial concluded, — the divan was closed, 
 And the gods were dismissed from the judicial 
 hall ; 
 
 They sorrowed that Venus should thus be deposed, 
 And from her high rank ignominiously fell. 
 
 The god and his mother winged their flight to the 
 base 
 OJ^that mountain which looks o'er the entrance 
 to heaven ; 
 '' Oh ! where," cried the mother, " can we hide 
 our disgrace, 
 To outcasts, like us, where shall refuge be 
 given ?" » 
 
 '^ Back to earthi" cried the boy, as he spread his 
 light wing. 
 And poised his bright form on the verge of the 
 sky ; 
 " Offerings yet, from that dust, shall those stern 
 mortals bring, 
 And we yet have power, though banished from 
 high." 
 
TRIAL OF VENUS. 73 
 
 " Weep not, my fair mother ! for vengeance to 
 thee 
 Shall be given, I swear, by the barb of this dart; 
 Ample justice be rendered to thee and to me, 
 Though from yonder dull planet we never may 
 part." 
 
 Their soft downy wings to the Hght gales were 
 spread, ^ 
 
 And their last glance o'er heaven was hastily 
 given ; 
 When^gowards the dim earth, vaulting onward, 
 they fled, 
 Like two fleecy clouds through the faint blue of 
 heaven. 
 
 With us here below, since that time they have 
 dwelt ; 
 And tell me, ye mortals ! do not you rejoice 
 At the blow which the monarch of heaven has 
 dealt. 
 And that Venus was exiled by justice's voice ? 
 
74 TRIAL OF VENUS. 
 
 But yet the god grieves, — ^for the wound in his 
 breast, 
 
 By time unassuaged, still refuses to heal ; 
 In vain by the beauty of heaven caressed, 
 
 The absence of Venus he cannot but feel. 
 
 From his golden bright palace of clouds in the 
 sky, 
 Where, immortal in splendour, he ever shall 
 reign, 
 Towards the glimmering earth he oft glances an 
 eye, 
 And sighs that the goddess returns not again. 
 
75 
 
 THE NEREID 
 
 I'm a spirit of the ocean, 
 In her deepest caves I dwell, 
 
 Where the waters in commotion, 
 Playful sport around my cell. 
 
 When the moon at midnight sleeping, 
 Rests her light upon the wave. 
 
 To the surface I come creeping 
 Softly, from my crystal cave. 
 
 I have watched the ship careening, 
 
 When the breeze of night blew strong ; 
 
 Listened to the sea bird screaming. 
 Joined her in her frightful song. 
 
76 THE NEREID. 
 
 I have seen the sad, last parting, 
 Sailors give, when hope is o'er ; 
 
 Snatched the tear from eyelids starting, 
 Never moist by tears before. 
 
 I have watched the sailor sinking, 
 Bidding home and friends farewell, 
 
 And the cold, salt ocean drinking ; 
 I have sung his requiem knell. 
 
 Scenes of deep, appalling sorrow, 
 Nightly gleam upon the waves, 
 
 And the sunshine of to-morrow 
 Will illume more watery graves. 
 
 Those, who now of life are thinking, 
 Coining joys in fancy's mould ; 
 
 And perhaps to friends are drinking. 
 Friends they can no more behold : 
 
 By the sun light of to-morrow, 
 Will repose on ocean's bed ; 
 
THE NEREID. 
 
 Reckless they of joy or sorrow, 
 Leagued confederates of the dead. 
 
 Father, mother ! sister, brother ! 
 
 Friend and lover ! I could tell 
 Tales of horror, when no other 
 
 Eye, but mine, saw what befell. 
 
 The last echo,^ — broken prayer, — 
 Wish half uttered, — drowning cry ; — 
 
 And the loud screech of despair. 
 Rising to the cold, blue sky. 
 
 But, disclosure is forbidden. 
 
 We each other's secrets keep ; — 
 
 And these dark events are hidden, 
 Save to dwellers of the deep. 
 
 Weep not, maid ! in sea-green bower, 
 Thy young lover's form is laid ; 
 
 Round his brow an ocean flower 
 I have twined in purple braid. 
 
78 THE NEREID. 
 
 There he rests in peaceful sleep, 
 Perfumed and embalmed his clay ; 
 
 There, the creeping things of deep 
 On his bosom cannot prey. 
 
 There's a smile upon his features. 
 But there's coldness on his brow ; 
 
 He was one of earth's fair creatures, 
 Mortal, — but immortal now. 
 
 AH his earthly troubles calmed. 
 He shall rest in coral cave ;■— 
 
 Sister Thoe has embalmed 
 
 Him, — and will consecrate his grave. 
 
 Where the moon-illumined ocean. 
 Rolls its gold tinged waves afar, 
 
 With a light, breast heaving motion ; — 
 I to-night will drive my car. 
 
 There are islands, — isles of bliss, 
 All unknown to mortal eye, 
 
THE NEREID. 79 
 
 Which the gentle sea winds kiss, 
 But, unharmed, the storms pass by. 
 
 And I go to meet my lover, 
 
 He, a spirit of the air, — 
 I, of sea a careless rover ; — 
 
 We exchange our meetings there. 
 
 See my lovely island rising 
 
 Like a Delos from the deep ; 
 To a mortal how surprising ! 
 
 Spirit, rouse thee from thy sleep ! 
 
 I, thy water nymph, am coming. 
 True, as love, to meet thee here ; 
 
 Whither, spirit, art thou roaming ? 
 This is hour to lovers dear ! 
 
 Hark ! what stirs the evening breeze ? 
 
 There's a music in the air. 
 Now I hear it through the trees ; — 
 
 Lovely spirit I thou art there. 
 
80 THE NEREID. 
 
 Welcome, spirit ! I, to greet thee, 
 In my bower have waited long ; — 
 
 And I hastened forth to meet thee, 
 When I heard in air thy song. 
 
81 
 
 THE TEMPEST 
 
 Brisk blows the breeze o'er the sea's rising mo- 
 tion, 
 
 Waking out of its slumber the placid, blue ocean; 
 
 And the tops of the billows, in snowy wreaths 
 curled, 
 
 Fling out their bright foam like a banner unfurled; 
 
 Light, o'er their summits, the lively ship springs, 
 
 As from her gilt prow the bright ocean she flings, 
 
 Whilst Neptune awakens his steeds from their 
 sleep, 
 
 And goads their white flanks as they prance o'er 
 the deep : 
 
 With a reef in her topsails the ship onward glides, 
 
 O'er the white rolling billow rejoicingly rides. 
 
82 THE TEMPEST. 
 
 But see yonder cloud bursting forth from the sky, 
 Like earth's murky shadow concentred on high ; 
 Through the arena of heaven the hurried mists 
 
 sweep, 
 And trace their dark shade on the fluttering deep: 
 'Tis the herald of storm, from the black rolling 
 
 sky. 
 Proclaims, through the dark sphere, a tempest is 
 
 nigh. 
 
 The topsails close reefed, — snugly furled each 
 
 light sail. 
 Top-gallant masts down ; — she's prepared for the 
 
 gale. 
 The cowering sun hastens his flight to the west. 
 And a red, lurid Hght marks the place of his rest; 
 The fitful winds threaten, — the blue ocean grows 
 
 dark. 
 And the spirit of storm flaps his wing o'er our 
 
 bark. 
 A deep, darkened cloud hangs its robe round the 
 
 sky, 
 
THE TEMPEST. 83 
 
 Whose sable arch spanning, the fleet lightnings 
 
 fly; 
 The unmuflled thunder peals rapid and loud, 
 With bolts bursting red from the electric cloud, 
 And as o'er the wide ocean the whistling winds 
 
 sweep, 
 Whirl the chrystalhzed foam as it bursts from the 
 
 deep. 
 
 On the billows the sides of the vessel careen, 
 
 And the splendour of ocean, in tempest, is seen; 
 
 High o'er her bow the wandering water floods, 
 
 Before the blast the staggering vessel scuds. 
 > 
 
 The son of Saturn o'er the deep sea rides. 
 His coursers snufl* the bright spray of its tides, 
 Nor dreads the challenge by his brother given, 
 The war to wage upon the banks of heaven ; 
 From their dark caves he leads his corps of might, 
 And ranks his forces in the shade of night. 
 
 The winds and waves are now in contest driven. 
 The ocean surge breaks on the bounds of heaven; 
 The concave heaven displays its|)ower of war. 
 And hurls thick bolts upon thainvaders' car. 
 
84 THE TEMPEST. 
 
 Now comes the breeze! the tough and sturdy 
 
 mast 
 Bends, like a straw, before the sweeping blast ;— 
 " Be wary, helmsman ! keep her head to sea, 
 Nor let the tempest bring you by the lee !" 
 The rushing squall with startling fury leaps. 
 Shaking the mansion where the Nereid sleeps ; 
 Our ship, by watery mountains furiously driven, 
 Vaults on the foam, and seems to sail through 
 
 heaven. 
 
 But heaven, now tired, offers terms of peace, 
 And weary Neptune bids his tumults cease ; 
 With night retires to his ocean caves. 
 And sweeps the white foam from the fretting 
 waves. 
 
85 
 
 RECOLLECTION 
 
 Bright is the moon, — and in her light 
 The laughing ocean plays ; 
 
 Whilst roving memory, in her flight, 
 Goes back to other days. 
 
 There is a music in the swell 
 
 Of waters as they roll, 
 That on the ear will softly dwell. 
 
 And echo to the soul ; 
 
 Starting from recollection's cell, 
 Thoughts deeply buried there ; 
 The friendly and the last farewell. 
 
 Mirth, sorrow or despair. 
 
 7^ 
 
8$ RECOLLEOTION. 
 
 Past hours of sadness, or of joy, 
 Swim fast before the mind ; 
 
 The scenes of man, of youth and boy. 
 In mingled mass we find. 
 
 Far, far beyond a youth's green hills. 
 Some sunshine scene we view. 
 
 And gaze, — but o'er a sea of ills ; 
 Then bid the spot adieu. 
 
 The soul unfettered, light and free, 
 • Darts swift o'er fields of time ; 
 And glancing o'er the silent sea. 
 Seeks some loved, distant clime. 
 
 'Tis good, to look upon the foam 
 Basking in moonlight rays, 
 
 And ponder, as we reckless roam, 
 On past, and passing days. 
 
87 
 
 LINES 
 
 WRITTEN ON PASSING THE ISLAND OF ST. HELENA. 
 
 You may see, through the mist breaking over the 
 ocean, 
 Yon isle as it bursts from the white heaving 
 foam ; 
 'Gainst whose shores beat the waves with a 
 threatening commotion, 
 Then murmuring break o'er the emperor's 
 home. 
 
 'Tis night ; — and the bright lamp of heaven is 
 shining 
 O'er the spot where he rests in an untroubled 
 sleep ; 
 
38 LINES. 
 
 Where the hero unarmed in death's camp is re- 
 clining, 
 His dirge not unsung by the storm-troubled 
 deep. 
 
 O'er the spot where Napoleon in his death-sheet 
 is shrouded, 
 The far twinkling stars look pensively on ; 
 And the moon full and bright, from a heaven un- 
 clouded, 
 Gives a glow to the tomb where the hero has 
 gone. 
 
 'Tis a signal of peace : and Destiny numbers 
 Her child with the great in eternity's scroll : 
 
 With his corse, in its solitude, ambition slumbers, 
 Yet sighs for her pinions to soar with his soul. 
 
 Napoleon ! fame's triumph shall be heard yet 
 afar 
 Through the realms of posterity ; — deeds thou 
 hast done. 
 
LINES. 89 
 
 Will be hailed by futurity's children of war, 
 Who shall echo the glory of Destiny's son. 
 
 The storm but just raged ; — thou wert deaf to its 
 call, 
 And heard not the peal of the thunder's deep 
 roll :— 
 'Twas the echo of Waterloo ! robed in thy pall, 
 Thou art deaf to the sound which should startle 
 thy soul. • 
 
 Farewell 1 round thy tomb though the tempest and 
 wave 
 Shall mingle in concert to rouse thee once 
 more ; 
 Thou shalt slumber sequestered in that lonely 
 grave. 
 Nor dream of the thunder, nor Waterloo's roar. 
 
90 
 
 RETROSPECTION. 
 
 There's a charm dull time flings o'er scenes that 
 
 are past, 
 Which we do not find with them so long as they 
 
 last ; 
 There's a tameness — a dampness — which, do what 
 
 you will 
 With the pencil of fancy, will darken them still. 
 Though each pleasure, unsought, come along 
 
 with its train, 
 And gladness be monarch, crowned victor of 
 
 pain ; 
 The things that we wished for, though all come 
 
 to pass. 
 Exact as a painting flung back from a glass : 
 
RETRGSPECTIOJNJ. 91 
 
 Yet something is wanting to mellow the scene, 
 
 Which cannot be given till time intervene. 
 
 But when some few seasons their steady course 
 
 roll, 
 How these summer bright visions flash light to 
 
 the soul ; 
 What a thrill of delight through the bosom then 
 
 glows. 
 And you throw down the gauntlet to earth and 
 
 its woes. 
 You grasp at those pleasures,— those pleasures 
 
 have past. 
 And you find, that you grasp but a phantom at 
 
 last. 
 
92 
 
 THE LIGHT HOUSE 
 
 Can you see, through night's gloom, where the 
 
 light house afar, 
 Flings out its bright flame like a glimmering star ? 
 See, over yon billow, the welcome light rise, 
 Adjusting our course by its glare in the skies. 
 
 And heard ye the voice from the mast head that 
 
 cried, 
 " The light house I" when first its bright fire was 
 
 spied ? 
 " The light house !" by all was re-echoed aloud. 
 As we caught its bright beams bursting forth 
 
 from a cloud. 
 
 All hail to thee, friend of the mariner lone ! 
 Whose light shows the path, through the night, to 
 his home ; 
 
THE LIGHT HOUSE. 93 
 
 And welcomes the stranger, — a guide for his 
 
 bark, 
 When the tempest-tost ocean rolls wildly and 
 
 dark. 
 
 Oh thus, when on earth we are ending our strife, 
 And doubling the last iDoisterous cape of our 
 
 life; 
 Oh then! may there shine, through death's 
 
 gloomy even, 
 Hope's lustre as bright from the light house of 
 
 heaven I 
 
94 
 
 LINES 
 
 WRITTEN IN AN ALBUM. 
 
 In an album to write, is a difficult thing, 
 
 For the muse, when we court her, is sure to take 
 
 wing; 
 Yet, true to thy bidding, I haste to indite. 
 First, ask thy indulgence, for what I may write. 
 'Tis the fashion of poets to laud to the skies. 
 In lofty heroics, the ladies' dark eyes ; 
 To sketch in bold picture each feminine grace. 
 Each fold of their garment, and wreath of their 
 
 lace. 
 To mould them all beings so perfect and fair, 
 A mortal might swear that a goddess was there. 
 But frail is my fancy, or I would not refuse. 
 On that subject to waken the strength of my muse; 
 
LINES WRITTEN IN AN ALBUM. 95 
 
 My thoughts, not unfettered, wing slowly their 
 
 flight, • 
 And the Muse is exceedingly stupid to-night. 
 But if the leaf I haye stained, should be grateful 
 
 to thee, 
 And the lines, I now trace, wake remembrance of 
 
 me. 
 Then my end is accomplished; — and when fleet- 
 ing time throws 
 His robe of decay o'er thy pleasures and woes ; 
 When the writer may rest in the silence and 
 
 gloom. 
 Which reign undisturbed in the sequestered tomb; 
 Perhaps thou wilt gaze on this writing, — and send 
 An arrow of thought toward thy absent, lost 
 
 friend. 
 May thy days be as summer, -unsullied and bright, 
 And health, peace and virtue be with thee. — Good 
 
 night ! 
 
96 
 
 FAREWELL 
 
 Farewell, farewell ! the set of sun 
 Shall find me gone from thee ; 
 
 Bound for a far and favoured clime, 
 Over yon heaving sea. 
 
 Again, perhaps, we may not meet, 
 
 And yet I hope we may ; 
 To call to mind 4;his parting scene, 
 
 Upon some coming day. 
 
 The recollection of those days, 
 Which I have passed with thee ; 
 
 I'll cherish long and dwell upon. 
 Wherever I may be. 
 
FAREWELL, 
 
 ni picture in my fancy, 
 
 The wild and sea-chafed shore, 
 
 Where we were wont to roam alone. 
 And hear the ocean roar. 
 
 The echo of words spoken 
 
 Upon my ear shall roll, 
 And strike the chords of feeling 
 
 Within my drooping soul. 
 
 And may we meet in gladness, 
 
 (If meet again w^e may,) 
 I would not have thee sorrowful 
 
 Upon the greeting day. 
 
 Alas I for me ! — though years but few 
 Have counted on my race ; 
 
 I almost wish that I was in 
 My final resting place. 
 
 The lurking of my sorrow, 
 The world shall never know ; 
 
 8^ 
 
9g FAREWELL. 
 
 Nor thou : — thou hast no power to quell 
 The gushing tide of wo. 
 
 But I can hide the feeling, 
 
 Its limits can control ; 
 Yet cannot wipe away the rust, 
 
 Corroding in my soul. 
 
 I launched my bark in brilliant youth 
 
 Upon a summer day ; 
 Unknowing where to hold my course, 
 
 I heedless bore away. 
 
 The sky was bright, the ocean smooth, 
 A heaven was in the gale ; 
 
 My feeble skiff danced proudly on, 
 With full and crowded sail. 
 
 The sky grew dark, — the ocean rolled, 
 Appalling lightnings flashed ; 
 
 And round my little, rocking bark, 
 Infuriate billows dashed. 
 
FAREWELL. 99 
 
 The blackened sky grew blacker still ; 
 
 In thunder spoke the gale : 
 But reckless, — I still crowded on 
 
 The overpowering sail. 
 
 My bark was shattered to a wreck ; 
 
 The tempest-winds blew on : 
 And then I cursed my heedlessness, 
 
 When every hope was gone. 
 
 I struck ; my bark, like shivered glass, 
 
 Around in atoms lay : 
 And then I saw, (it was too late,) 
 
 The falseness of my way. 
 
 But where I struck, and split my bark, 
 
 I may not — dare not—tell -y — 
 It was upon no hidden rock, — 
 
 Do thou beware ! — Farewell t 
 
100 
 
 THE 
 
 FLIGHT OF TIME 
 
 Stay thy flight, ceaseless Time! for youth's season 
 
 is gay, 
 Waft not in such haste its enjoyments away ; 
 We scarcely can pluck a gay floweret we see, 
 Ere its fleet fading beauty is sullied by thee : 
 And when light footed Pleasure we chase in her 
 
 bloom,^ 
 Ere we catch the gay goddess, she's faded in 
 
 gloom. 
 
 Art not weary, old Time ? why, thy flight was 
 
 begun. 
 Before this dull earth saw the light of her sun ; 
 
THE FLIGHT OP TIME. jqI 
 
 Relax on thy journey ; with us come and stay : 
 Bid Care take thy pinions, and soar on thy way. 
 
 Thou wilt not repose ? then, away on thy flight, 
 And speed on thy pinions, — rejoice in thy might ! 
 Come haste, thou art slow ! over Ether's vast 
 
 wave 
 Fly swift, and more swift ! — drag us on to the 
 
 grave ! 
 Then shall we go before, and exult in the flight. 
 Like a meteor's glow through eternity's night. 
 
102 
 
 STANZA 
 
 I LOVE, when midnight round the sky, 
 Folds her old mantle broad and dark, 
 
 To watch the waves ascending high. 
 And to the loud-voiced breezes hark ; 
 
 And when our ship with heaving breast. 
 Tosses upon her restless pillow ; • 
 
 To gaze upon the heaven, caressed 
 By many a towering, sparkling billow : 
 
 To let my thoughts unbridled roam 
 
 O'er the broad sea's unceasing motion ; 
 
 How soon they settle down on home. 
 In spite of intervening ocean. 
 
103 
 
 THE 
 
 COURT OF BACCHUS 
 
 Ye votaries of pleasure all 1 come pay your tribute 
 
 here, 
 Now Bacchus sits upon the throne, to all good 
 
 fellows dear ; 
 A jovial king is he to reign, he rules with gentle 
 
 sway. 
 And when king Care invades his realm, he drives 
 
 the elf away. 
 Come haste, come haste ! ere wrinkled age suc- 
 ceed your ruby morn, 
 Assemble here, in pleasure's halls, your temples 
 
 to adorn ! 
 See, yonder throne adorned so rich, so splendid, 
 
 and so rare ! 
 
i04 THE COURT OF BACCHUS. 
 
 You kneel upon its purple step, and pour libations 
 
 there. 
 Come on, come on! for Time, ere long, will 
 
 show his mantle gray. 
 And touch, with his destructive wand, our 
 
 evanescent clay. 
 And see, yon httle cherub god, with auburn 
 
 rolling hair. 
 Who's playing with a bow of gold, before 
 
 Urania's chair ; 
 His mother is the queen of love, — and he, — a 
 
 rascal boy, 
 But yet the fair have faith in him, their dimpled 
 
 god of joy. 
 Come haste ! before the foaming cup hath ceased 
 
 its sparkling glow. 
 And quaff the laughing liquor off! — an antidote 
 
 for wo. 
 
 And far behind, in sable decked, upon an iron 
 throne, 
 
 Behold gaunt Death, with visage pale, command- 
 ing mortals home ; 
 
COURT OF BACCHUS. 
 
 105 
 
 And now he beckons me to come, and leave this 
 
 princely cheer, 
 Avaunt, old Death! before I move, Til take a mug 
 
 of beer. 
 You're alv^ays coaxing to the grave some vassal 
 
 of our king, 
 And you, and Time and Destiny, are ever on the 
 
 wing ; 
 Wiien Lucius L. has sung his song, and I have 
 
 drunk my beer, 
 ['11 come ;— so. Death, don't fret yourself, nor 
 
 look with such a leer. 
 
106 
 
 'P Q i(- -^ -H- i(- a 
 
 Farewell ! PU think of thee, love, 
 
 When far away at sea ; 
 And wilt thou dream of me, love, 
 
 When I am gone from thee ? 
 
 Our ship's sails are unfurled, love, 
 The wind blows fresh and free ; 
 
 And to a watery world, love, 
 I hasten on from thee. 
 
 I'll think of thee at night, love. 
 When on the peaceful sea, 
 
 The fair moon sprinkles light, love ; 
 And do thou think of me. 
 
 And when the thunders roll, love, 
 In echoes o'er the sea ; 
 
TO ^'^^fe**. IQ7 
 
 Their loud voice to my soul, love, 
 Shall only speak of thee. 
 
 And when the tempests roar, love, 
 
 And bellow over sea ; 
 The more they roar, — the more, love. 
 
 Thy love will think on thee. 
 
 And should our little ship, love, 
 
 Go down when far at sea ; 
 My valedictory prayer, love, 
 
 I'll send to heaven for thee ! 
 
108 
 
 SATURDAY NIGHT 
 
 Of us some now are thinking, 
 As we hasten on our way ; 
 
 And, perhaps, to us are drinking 
 A long and happy day ! . 
 
 The week's last sun has set, 
 And the moon is riding on ; 
 
 Our dry lips should be wet, 
 
 Ere the spangled night be gone. 
 
 The fresh breeze too is asking 
 A bumper from us four ; 
 
 Let none himself be tasking, 
 But drink as many more. 
 
SATURDAY NIGHT. 109 
 
 There is a secret fair one, 
 
 Her name you need not tell ; 
 A bumper! we can spare one, 
 
 For one you love so well. 
 
 And youth, they say, is fleeting. 
 
 Why then it cannot last ; 
 In a bumper let's give greeting. 
 
 Ere his happy reign be past. 
 
 Then round the table pass 
 
 The goblet, if you please, 
 And fill each gaping glass, 
 
 To the good and whistling breeze ! 
 
 To drink, Pm sure, is human, 
 
 So drink the liquor up ; 
 Whilst to youth, and friends, and woman, 
 
 We lift the ruby cup ! 
 
110 
 
 LINES 
 
 Vv EITTEN IN AN ALBUM. 
 
 May the choicest blessings earth can give, 
 
 And all her joys be thine, 
 And new pleasures fly before thee, 
 
 Upon the wings of time ; 
 
 May the firmament of fortune 
 Pour forth a sparkhng shower, 
 
 And the summer of thy cheerfulness 
 Ne'er have a clouded hour ; 
 
 May the pictures of past seasons 
 From thy vision ne'er depart ; 
 
 Nor the memory of their pleasures 
 Be exiled from thy heart : 
 
LINES WRITTEN IN AN ALBUM. 1 1 1 
 
 And like the fabled amaranth, 
 
 Which never faides, they say, 
 May beauty still be with thee, 
 
 When years have rolled away. 
 
 May no false friend deceive thee, 
 
 With promises or smile, 
 To prove, that, e'en in friendship, 
 
 There is a hidden wile 5 
 
 May the withering blast of calumny 
 Ne'er parch thee with its breath, 
 
 But thy path be calm and peaceful 
 To the quiet grove of death : 
 
 May all thy friends be faithful. 
 
 With feehngs warm and true. 
 And ever act towards thee. 
 
 As thou, to them, wouldst do. 
 
 As the setting sun goes down in peace. 
 Behind the purple hill. 
 
112 LINES WRITTEN IN AN ALBUM. 
 
 When nature all around is hushed, 
 Holy, serene and still. 
 
 May th^ spirit of thy being. 
 As softly steal from earth, 
 
 And on celestial pinions, 
 Seek him who gave it birth. 
 
113 
 
 THE MYSTIC SHIP 
 
 Oh, 'tis a noble sight to see ! when close reefed 
 
 in her sail, 
 The gallant ship comes reeling on, and stooping 
 
 to the gale ; 
 Her speckled ocean steed she rides so gracefully 
 
 and fast, 
 Whilst slender spars are bending to, and creaking 
 
 with, the blast : 
 See, how the blustering billows heave, and tumble 
 
 from on high, 
 Then mount again, with snow-white wing, and 
 
 nestle in the sky. 
 
 And is that ship, a ship of earth ? — or, is she of 
 
 the air ? 
 Can mortal beings fabricate a structure like her 
 
 fair ? 
 
 ^ 
 
114 THE MYSTIC SHIP. 
 
 To me, she seems a vessel built on some bright 
 
 planet far, 
 On an ethereal voyage bound to a dim twinkling 
 
 star ; 
 And freighted with departed souls for happiness 
 
 or wo, 
 They coast along our puny earth, nor tell us where 
 
 they go. 
 
 But, by the Lord! see, yonder comes a vessel 
 
 breathing fire, 
 That must be H. M. Satan's ship, — can I escape 
 
 his ire ! 
 Perhaps the vessel that has passed with pilgrim 
 
 souls he knew, 
 And comes, to make that ship a prize with his 
 
 infernal crew ; 
 No ! fate and terror ! on he comes, and steering 
 
 right for me ! 
 Oh, potent Jove ! upon my knees I do appeal to 
 
 thee ! 
 A damp and murky chilliness upon my senses fell, 
 
 ^ 
 
THE MYSTIC SHIP. 115 
 
 I gasped for breath,- — and thought I breathed the 
 atmosphere of hell. 
 
 I stupid reeled and lost myself, — the world was 
 gone for me, 
 
 I might have been, without a pang, far in eternity. 
 
 At length a friend aroused me, from out my seem- 
 ing dream. 
 
 Explained the cause, — and what was it ? — it was 
 a ship of steam. 
 
116 
 
 I CAME from a clime beyond the sea, 
 Where I had been careless roving, 
 
 To the place of my youth and boyhood glee, 
 And those of my early loving. 
 
 There were those my heart beat high to greet, 
 The friends of my sunniest season ; 
 
 Whom I had been wont, in youth, to meet, 
 And laugh with, in spite of reason. 
 
 Some had changed, — and some had gone 
 To that clime where we all are hasting ; 
 
 And some the same were living on. 
 Domestic pleasures tasting. 
 
 Some had found rest 'neath the tumbling wave, 
 
 And some on the field of battle ; 
 And some had sought out a quieter grave, 
 
 Than where storms and cannon rattle. 
 
117 
 
 Some had gone — no one knew where, 
 Like lost stars from their orbits roaming ; 
 
 Some had fallen in strife with care, 
 Some were glad, — some moaning. 
 
 There was one I missed from the little ring, 
 Of those I had moved around with. 
 
 Who, in sport and play, was our youthful king, 
 Whom gladness was always found with, 
 
 We had been, in our earliest days at school, 
 
 In many a scrape together ; 
 Had laughed at the frown and the pedagogue's 
 rule, 
 
 For our hearts were light as a feather. 
 
 We had climbed together the rugged path. 
 That winds round the steep of science ; 
 
 And had rambled off, at times, to quaff 
 Of forbidden streams in defiance. 
 
 We had loitered on Parnassian hills. 
 
 And lolled in the muses' bowers ; 
 10 
 
118 
 
 Had sipped the stream of Helicon rills, 
 From margins strewed with flowers. 
 
 I left him gay, — in the flush of youth. 
 
 With beauty in each feature ; 
 I loved him : — and he was, in truth, 
 
 A worthy-loving creature. 
 
 I found him — where ? In the gorgeous hall, 
 Where pleasure sounds her timbrel ? 
 
 No, I found him not I though I sought through 
 all 
 The crowd round her glittering symbol. 
 
 I walked alone in the lonely night, 
 
 For I then knew where to go ; 
 And I thought it was but friendship's right, 
 
 To visit his mansion low. 
 
 I searched the churchyard all alone, 
 
 Where the grass grew green around him ; 
 
 And I read the record of every stone. 
 Till I found the sod that bound him. 
 
119 
 
 I looked intently on the grave, 
 
 Where my friend and school-mate slumber- 
 ed ; 
 And I thought it unfeeling in Death, not to save 
 
 Him, now with his long list numbered. 
 
 I thought the heaven was ne'er so blue, 
 Nor the full moon half so bright, 
 
 As they shone, though sadly, on my view, 
 Upon that autumn night. 
 
 We had often looked to the arch on high. 
 
 And wandered in speculation ; 
 And to picture scenes of that sparkling sky. 
 
 Was to us a fascination. 
 
 And now, I stood alone by the tomb 
 
 Of him who knew my errors ; 
 Yet death seemed not such a thing of gloom, 
 
 Nor the grave a place of terrors. 
 
 1 thought how in our sunniest days, 
 Before the shrine of pleasure, 
 
fh 
 
 ^^4 
 
 120 
 
 We had kindled up a steady blaze, 
 And fanned our glowing treasure. 
 
 I looked around on each marble tomb, 
 That glistened in cold moonlight ; 
 
 And they seemed to me no house of gloom. 
 But each a palace bright. 
 
 My brain spun round, — and methought that 1 
 
 Was no more a lump of dust ; 
 But a phantom thing, that could. not die, 
 
 Stripped of its mortal crust. 
 
 I thought that one of the mounds of clay, 
 Which were green and fresh around me, 
 
 Was mine ;— and a spirit I fled away. 
 Free of the earth that bound me. 
 
 But then I knew it could not be, 
 Or the spirit of him who had fled, 
 
 Would have come that night to welcome me. 
 To the banquet of the dead.' 
 
 THE END. 
 
 574 
 

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