-.81 LENT lOY I 
 
r 4 ¥ -■'¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ 4 ¥ . -^. 4 4 ¥ 4- 4- '.¥ ¥ 
 
 4 4- -I- ¥ 4-4- 4-4- 4- 4 ■ 4- 4 4- '4- 4 ¥ 4 4 4>* ¥ •-? 
 h 4 4- 4-4-4- £-44 4 4 ■+-. 4 4- "4 f -4 4 -* ¥ 4 -4 
 
 4, -j. -f. 4 4- -4 4- 4 4 4 4' 4. 4- 4 -«- 4 4 4 4- ¥ V 
 fr" ¥ 4 4: 4' ¥ ¥ -4-' ¥ 4" ¥ ¥ 4' 4' 4 ¥ ■ ¥ ¥ ¥ "a 
 
 ¥¥-¥¥¥¥¥¥'¥¥¥¥¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ 
 \r ¥ 4 4- 4- 4 4 4 ¥ ¥ 4 4 f 4 4 ¥ ¥ : 4 4 4 
 
 ¥ ¥¥.¥¥¥¥¥'¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥ 
 ^¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥4 
 
 ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ 
 
 * ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥-¥ ¥ ¥ .4 
 
 ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ 
 
 ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ 
 - ¥ ¥ ¥ 
 
 ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ 
 ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ 
 
 * ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ 
 ¥¥¥¥¥' 
 
 ► ¥¥¥¥¥ 
 
 ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ 
 i ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ 
 
 ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ 
 v ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ 
 
 ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ 
 t ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ 
 
 ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ 
 
 * ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ 
 ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ 
 
 t ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ 
 ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ 
 ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ 
 *. ¥■: ¥ ¥ 
 
 ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ 
 fc ¥ ¥ ¥ 
 -¥¥¥¥¥ 
 ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ 
 r ¥ ¥. ¥ ¥ ¥ 
 $ ¥ 
 ¥ ¥ ¥ 
 4. 4 t. ,-r t .-^. 
 
 ¥ ¥ ¥ 4 ¥ ¥ 
 ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ 
 ¥ ¥ ¥ 
 
 ¥¥'¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥ 
 ¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥ 
 I ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ 
 
 • 
 
 ¥ ¥ 
 ¥i ¥ 
 
 r ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ 
 
 : ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ 
 
 h ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ 
 
 ¥¥¥¥¥¥ 
 
 \. ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ 
 
 ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ 
 
 I ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ 
 
 ¥¥¥¥¥¥ 
 
 $. ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ 
 
 ¥¥¥¥¥¥ 
 
 i ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ 
 
 ¥ ¥ W ¥ ¥ ¥ 
 
 t ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ 
 
 ¥¥¥¥¥.¥ 
 
 f ¥ ¥ 4 ¥ ¥ ¥ 
 
 ¥¥¥¥¥¥ 
 
 ;¥¥¥¥¥¥ 
 
 ¥¥¥¥¥¥ 
 
 ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ 
 
 ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ : 
 
 ¥¥¥¥¥¥ 
 
 ¥¥¥¥¥¥! 
 
 ¥¥¥¥¥¥ 
 
 ¥¥¥¥¥¥! 
 
 ¥¥¥¥¥¥ 
 
 ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ' 
 
 ¥¥¥¥¥¥ 
 
 ¥¥¥¥¥¥: 
 
 ¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥ 
 
 ¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥: 
 
 ¥¥¥¥¥¥!¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥ 
 
 ¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥ 
 
 ¥4! ¥¥¥¥¥¥¥ ¥¥¥¥¥¥ 
 
 ? ¥ ¥ ¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥' 
 
 ¥¥'"¥' ¥ "¥ 4! ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ 
 
 ¥'¥'*¥'¥'¥ ¥¥¥¥.¥¥¥¥ 4> ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ^ 
 
 ¥¥'¥¥'¥ 4; ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ 
 
 ¥' '¥" ¥" "¥ ¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥> 
 
 ¥' ¥'■ ¥' ¥''¥'¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥ 
 
 ¥' '¥* ¥ '¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ r 
 
 ¥'*¥ ¥" "¥'"¥* ■"& 4! ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ 
 
 ¥ . 4 ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ 4 ¥ 
 
 -■-' '¥'¥'¥ ¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥ ¥ 
 ¥4 * *- ¥ 4 ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ 4 :* ¥ ¥ 4 • 
 # ¥ ■¥ ¥ ¥ ':* ■* ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ 
 
4: ^ ^ I t + + + i + * i .+ + + ¥ + +' * 
 
 ■* ■ >■ $ .;■$■; . ;■$.; ¥ . ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ : ¥ ¥ 
 
 ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ^ ¥ :*: :*:.:*: :c:*: :c ^: ¥ w ¥ 
 ¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥ 
 
 ¥ • ¥ ;*; "■&■; ¥ % ; ;*; . # .;■#■; /*: # # ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ 
 ■$.- ^ ■# -0 -0 ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ '■» 
 
 ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥¥¥¥•¥¥¥ ¥ 
 ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥■ ¥ ■ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ? 
 
 ¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥ 
 ¥¥¥¥¥¥¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ^ 
 
 ¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥•¥¥¥¥¥' 
 ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ^ 
 
 ¥¥¥¥¥¥"¥¥¥¥-¥¥¥¥¥¥ 
 ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ^ 
 
 ¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥ 
 ¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥'¥¥¥¥¥¥^ 
 
 ¥¥'¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥ 
 ¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥.¥¥ ^ 
 
 ¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥ 
 ¥ ¥ * * ■.*: * $ ^ 
 
 ¥¥¥¥¥¥'¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥. ¥ 
 
 ¥•¥¥¥¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ^ 
 
 ¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥ 
 
 ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ':■ 
 
 ¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥ 
 
 ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ' ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ + 
 
 ¥¥'¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥ 
 
 ¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥ : * 
 
 ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥'¥ ¥¥¥¥¥¥ 
 
 ¥¥¥¥¥¥-¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥ :■ 
 
 ¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥ 
 
 ¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥-¥¥¥ '•■ 
 
 ¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥ 
 
 ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ -- 
 
 ¥'¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥ ¥ 
 
 ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ > 
 
 !¥¥¥¥ ¥ • ■ *' ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ; .¥ ¥ ¥ 
 
 ¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥: 
 
 :¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥ 
 
 ,¥¥¥¥¥'¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥ ¥ 
 
 ¥¥¥¥¥¥ * ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ 
 . ^ . , 
 
 :¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥ 
 ■ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ *¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥ ¥ 
 
 $ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ 
 
 ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ 
 ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ 
 :¥-¥¥¥:¥ 
 
 ¥ ¥ ¥ 
 :¥¥¥¥¥ 
 ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ 
 :¥¥¥¥¥ 
 ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ 
 
 ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ * 
 ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ 
 
 ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ * 
 ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ 
 
 ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ 
 ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ 
 
 ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ 
 ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ 
 
 ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ 
 ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ 
 
 ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ 
 ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ 
 
 ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ 
 ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ 
 
 ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ 
 ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ 
 
 ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ 
 $ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ 
 
 ¥'¥¥¥: 
 ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ 
 
 ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ 
 ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ 
 
 ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ 
 ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ 
 
 ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ 
 ¥ ¥ /¥ .-■■*' ¥ 
 
 ¥¥¥¥¥¥¥ 
 ± 
 
 ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ■ -M 
 ^0000000 
 
 ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ 
 ^ ^ . 
 
 !¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥ ¥ 
 
 •¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥ 
 
 ¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥. 
 ¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥; 
 
 ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ *;*¥¥¥¥•¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥ ¥ 
 ¥¥¥¥¥ ¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥•¥.¥.¥ 
 
 ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥'¥¥ & 
 ¥¥¥¥¥ ¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥ ; 
 
 ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ 
 ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥'¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥■¥ 
 
 ¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥ ¥ ' ¥. ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ 
 ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥ 
 
 ¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥•¥¥¥¥¥ 
 
SILENT LOVE. 
 
PAISLEY: 
 PUBLISHED BY MURRAY & STEWART. 
 
 GLASGOW: ANDREW PARK. 
 
 EDINBURGH :.. JOHN MENZIES. 
 
 DUBLIN : ,W. CURRY, JUN., & CO. 
 
 LIVERPOOL: G. PHILIP. 
 
 LONDON : DAVID BOGUE, 86, FLEET STREET. 
 
 HOUGHTON & CO., 30, POULTRY. 
 
/'■■■ 
 1. 
 
 X /^> 
 
s* 
 
 tMr L© p 
 
 t. 
 
 h POIi 
 
 : : n. 
 Fcdsl&y. — J/Eurray St St&wojrt: 
 
SILENT LOYE. 
 
 A POEM. 
 
 BY THE LATE 
 
 JAMES WILSON, ESQ., fcf 
 
 "native of paisley. 
 
 ILLUSTRATED WITH ENGRAVINGS IN OUTLINE, 
 
 BY JOSEPH NOEL PATON, ESQ. 
 
 FOURTH EDITION. 
 
 PAISLEY: 
 MURRAY AND STEWART. 
 
 MDCCCXLV. 
 

 [? 
 
 ■" gift 
 
 BDCmOAMES 6. CHILD EftS 
 iHJLY 26, 1344 
 
 NEILSON AND MURRAY, PRINTERS. 
 
 J~ 
 
PREFACE TO THE FOURTH EDITION. 
 
 ^HIS being the Fourth Edition of " Silent Love," an expen- 
 sive experiment has been made to render it still more 
 worthy of public favour, and the Editor is indebted to the talented 
 J. Noel Paton, for the elegant illustrations designed and engraven 
 by him for this edition. The demand for copies of last impression 
 from all parts of the kingdom, still unanswered, gave confidence to 
 the Publishers in making the present important changes, while the 
 alteration in price is no more than a remuneration for the additional 
 expense in getting up the work. 
 
 The critics of the public press having been lavishly kind in their 
 commendations, and the Editor being anxious that his introduction 
 shall be so brief as not to interfere with the Poem itself, he will, there- 
 fore, only quote a few opinions, and commence with a paragraph from 
 
VI PREFACE. 
 
 the most widely circulated and approved journal of this or any other 
 country. 
 
 " We read, with wonder, in strains as musical as Pope's, feelings 
 as impassioned, yet as delicate as those of Tasso, and all this from a 
 Paisley apothecary who lived and died obscurely forty years ago. 
 The whole production is a literary curiosity of a very singular kind." 
 — Chambers' Edinburgh Journal, 9th Dec, 1843. 
 
 " This wonderful poem has already attained its third edition, and is 
 now produced in a style of elegance truly superb. It has been likened, 
 by the Chambers', to the writings of Pope or Tasso, and by others 
 to the ' Pleasures of Memory,' and even to Campbell's ' Pleasures 
 of Hope,' " &c. — Glasgow Courier. 
 
 11 It is needless to praise this poem, a third edition having appeared 
 in so short a period, and praises having already been so fully be- 
 stowed on the talented and truth-speaking production." — Glasgow 
 Argus. 
 
 " This is a short but singular piece. The author has contrived to 
 tell his tale of ' Silent Love ' within bounds so limited as to be quite 
 unparalleled in the history of poets and poetry. Trite though the 
 subject be, one almost regrets this, for a perusal of the poem will 
 
PREFACE. vii 
 
 satisfy the reader that the writer was well qualified for holding con- 
 verse with the Muses. His lines are free from that stiffness which 
 often betrays the tyro whose thirst for poetic fame exceeds his capa- 
 bilities to merit it. He seems to possess all the sweetness and tender- 
 ness of Cowper, and is not far removed from the masterly finish of 
 Pope." — London Paper. 
 
 We now present the work in its improved form to the public, along 
 with a brief Sketch of the Author's life, which appeared in the former 
 editions. — Ed. 
 
 Paisley, 1st January, 1845. 
 
BIOGEAPHICAL SKETCH OF THE ATJTHOK. 
 
 BY HIS NEPHEW. 
 
 JAMES WILSON, a native of Paisley, was born on the 21st 
 March, 1749, just at that period of the year when nature, 
 after a winter of death, begins again to waken into life, and 
 the early flowers open their eyes to gaze upon the welcome rays of 
 a reviving sun. 
 
 His father's name was Alexander Wilson, and his mother's, Mar- 
 garet Campbell, the daughter of a frugal farmer near the Dusky Glen 
 — which Tannahill has since so well described in his delicious songs — 
 and her family realised all the comforts and blessings of the " Cottar's 
 Saturday Night." James was the only son, my mother the only 
 daughter, and he passed through a good education to the age of fifteen, 
 when he took a strong liking for reading, and was sent to Glasgow 
 College, to study for the profession of a surgeon — according to his 
 own desire — and where he remained until the death of his father in 
 1768, at which painful period he was but nineteen years of age. This 
 caused his mother to withdraw him from the Alma Mater, and he 
 took a situation with a Dr. Campbell, a distant relative, then an 
 apothecary, near the Cross, where the houses jutted out, but which 
 
X BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCH. 
 
 are now removed for the better convenience of the public. He re- 
 mained five years, till the death of Dr. Campbell, which took place in 
 1773, and afterwards succeeded to his relative's business, and con- 
 tinued till the year 1780, when, after having made a little independ- 
 ence, he retired, and lived with his mother, then in the decline of 
 life, and who died in 1784. He was long observed to look solitary, 
 and had scarcely a companion, and it was thought that some dis- 
 appointment in love was the cause, but, as he had no confidant, 
 the matter was never revealed. He was then in his thirty -fifth year, 
 and betook himself to travelling, and, after many years, he returned, 
 and staid with my mother in Causeyside Street. I was young at the 
 time, and can only remember that he was my companion, had a 
 good disposition — could sing well, and read much. He also wrote 
 occasionally, but we never knew what, and at last he grew so morose, 
 particularly when among strangers, that no one could elicit the 
 thoughts of his mind. 
 
 He fell into a speedy decline in the autumn of 1806, and died 7th 
 March, 1807, leaving still the history of his love a sealed letter, and 
 the name of his fair one is now a secret for ever. 
 
 My mother, who died in 1832, kept most scrupulously the Poem 
 
 he left, locked up, and although I often heard her speak of the same, 
 
 it was but then my eyes beheld it for the first time. This is the 
 
 only history I can give of the circumstances connected with my 
 
 uncle's life and death. 
 
 J. W. F. 
 
SILENT LOVE. 
 
 ^7 O man e'er loved like me. When but a boy 
 ^=^ ^ir Love was my solace and my only joy ; 
 Its mystic influence fired my tender soul, 
 And held me captive in its soft control ! 
 By night it ruled in bright ethereal dreams, 
 By day in latent, ever-varying themes, — 
 In solitude, or 'mid the city's throng, 
 Or in the festal halls of mirth and song, — 
 Through loss or gam, through quietude or strife, 
 This -was the charm, the heart-pulse of my life. 
 
 B 
 
12 SILENT LOVE. 
 
 Wliile age has not subdued the flame divine, 
 A votary still I worship at the shrine ! 
 When cares enthral, or when the soul is free, 
 'Tis all the same. No man e'er loved like me ! 
 
 <jj ! SHE was young who won my yielding heart, 
 Nor j^ower of poesy, nor the painter's art, 
 Could half the beauties of her mind portray, 
 E'en when inspired, and how can this my lay % 
 Two eyes that spoke what language ne'er can do, 
 Soft as twin-violets moist with early dew ! 
 And on her cheeks the lily and the rose 
 Blent beauteously in halcyon repose ; 
 While vermil lips, apart, reveal' d within 
 Two rows of pearls, and on her dimpled chin 
 The Graces smiled ; a bosom heaved below 
 "Warm as the sun, but pure as forest snow ; 
 
SILENT LOYE. 13 
 
 Her copious ringlets hung in silken trains 
 O'er alabaster streaked with purpling veins ; — 
 Her pencil? cl eyebrows arching fair and high 
 O'er lids so pure they scarcely screen'd the eye ! 
 A form symmetral, moving forth in grace 
 Like heaven-made Eve, the mother of our race ; 
 And on her brow benevolence and truth 
 Were chastely throned in meek, perennial youth, 
 While every thought that had creation there, 
 But made her face still more divinely fair, 
 And every fancy of her soul express'd 
 On that fan margin what inspired her breast, 
 Pure as the sunbeams gild the placid deep, 
 When zephyrs close their wings in listless sleep. 
 
 MSI 
 
 I His maiden won my heart ; O ! is it vain 
 To say, perhaps hep's was return' d again !— 
 
14 SILENT LOVE. 
 
 To say, she read the language of my eyes, 
 
 And knew my thoughts unmingled with disguise ! 
 
 Is it too much to say that eyes reveal 
 
 What words in vain but struggle to conceal, — 
 
 That silent love is not far more sincere 
 
 Than vaunting vows — those harbingers of fear ! 
 
 Deep-rooted veneration breathes no sound ; — 
 
 Back, mortal, back, ye stand on holy ground ! 
 
 Hid in the heart's recess, like precious ore, 
 
 It lies in brilliant beauty at the core ! 
 
 Or, as the moon, sweet empress of the night ! 
 
 Reflecting gives in modest mellowy light 
 
 The sun's refracting rays — her destined part — 
 
 So genuine feeling steals from heart to heart ! 
 
 Laugh not, ye sordid sons, ye beings cold, 
 
 Who measure all your greatness by your gold, — 
 
SILENT LOVE. 15 
 
 Whose marble bosoms never once could feel 
 What friendship, love, and sympathy reveal ; 
 Learn but one truth, 'twill not reduce your stores, 
 Love higher than your gilded riches soars, 
 Your clemi-god a meaner thing must be 
 Than Cupid proves. No man e'er loved like me ! 
 
 u hink not a glance too transient to destroy 
 The calmness of the mind with mingled joy, — 
 Judge for yourselves, but make no strictures here, 
 Set no mean limits to its hope and fear. 
 Many could tell, if they but had the art, 
 The stirring power with which it throbs the heart ; 
 Thrills every nerve, pursues through every vein, 
 Its path electric till it fires the brain, — 
 And trembling there like needle to the pole, 
 Strange blushes rise in crimson from the soul ; 
 
16 SILENT LOVE. 
 
 The heaving breast in respiration free, 
 Convulsive feels with innate ecstasy. 
 
 ti/UT, then, that glance was quickly stolen away, 
 Love needs nor books, nor orator's display ! 
 Fleet as the meteor's flight across the sky, 
 Is beauty's bright and love-revealing eye ; 
 But, as it passes, like the meteor too, 
 Can kindle thoughts which time may ne'er subdue; — 
 Can raise a living passion in the soul, 
 A sage's prudence never could control — 
 Arouse the dormant senses of the heart, 
 And make it feel acute in every part — 
 Give softer language to the aqueous eye, 
 And make it roll in silence on the sky, 
 Till the expanding soul's refining thought 
 A marvellous sensibility has caught— 
 
-.Qcos 
 
 \Jl 
 
 
SILENT LOVE. 17 
 
 So keen, so calm, so tender, and so kind, 
 That earthly cares are scattered to the wind ! 
 
 cio each fond look was fraught with feverish pain, 
 That but renew' d the deathless hope again ! 
 Creating sweetest charms and raptures gay, 
 That stole the stillness of my soul away ! 
 Then came deep nights of doubt and darkness on, 
 When man is left contemplative alone ; — 
 When fond philosophy usurps her reign, 
 Striving to have her sovereign sway again. 
 But all is nought when love pervades the breast, 
 What can reduce the feelings down to rest ! 
 The dimpled god will still direct each dart, 
 With all his archful meaning at the heart, — 
 Laughs when he sees you strive to thwart his aim, 
 And stirs anew the embers of the flame ; 
 
18 SILENT LOVE. 
 
 Retires, returns with face of lively joy, 
 And still delights in transports to annoy. 
 Riches and power, ye have no golden art, 
 Where shines the lighted censer of the heart ! 
 Fame and its passions hitrriedly decay, 
 For all is love, and love will have his way ! 
 But, oh ! when fate's stern mandates disapprove, 
 Then keenest are the burning darts of love, 
 The heart that's bound, then struggles to be free, 
 A pensive bird in sweet captivity. 
 
 SiCK, sick at heart, o'ercome with doubt and woe, 
 My tears would gush like urns that overflow ; 
 Aloud have I chastis'd my cherish' d fear, 
 And deem'd my love lack'd power to be sincere ! 
 So does the timid fawn, on yonder hill, 
 In love and leisure wander at his will, 
 
SILENT LOVE. 19 
 
 Till gazing on the lordly face of men, 
 
 He starts and springs in terror to his den ; 
 
 For love's a coward, even a very slave, 
 
 While boldness often fires the basest knave ; 
 
 And sadness, tears, and sickness, could but be 
 
 Its inward strength, my soul's perplexity. 
 
 Thus did I feel and murmur when alone, 
 
 And said this world's cold heart is hard as stone ; 
 
 'Twas error this, methinks I hear you say, 
 
 For there are hearts whose kindness ne'er decay ! 
 
 That I was misanthropic so to feel, 
 
 And but my heart, no other heart was steel. 
 
 I know the world — have suffered too, its scorn, 
 
 And many treacherous calumnies have borne ; 
 
 Borne them in silence — to refute the same, 
 
 Had added new insult upon my name ; — 
 c 
 
20 SILENT LOVE. 
 
 Seen the malicious smile, and envy too, 
 Strive all my dearest actions to undo. 
 And though inspired to do them aught but wrong, 
 Have known them sneer in malice on my song. 
 Why all this spleen — whence all this vain desire ? 
 To strew the path with thorns where we aspire ; 
 Striving to teach the world, with none avail, 
 The poet's strain a mere fictitious tale. 
 Vain thought ! he dips his pencil in the light 
 Of rainbow tints, that suit his muse's flight ; 
 Explores the hid recesses of the heart, 
 And feels in truth the essence of his art ! 
 'Tis dread of over-reaching them in thought, 
 Scarce worth the having, 'tis so dearly bought ! 
 And this is man, to load with low disdain 
 A life of labour, mingled else with pain ; 
 
SILENT LOVE. 21 
 
 Then frown not world, though wiser far ye be, 
 And colder too. No man e'er loved like me ! 
 
 ; Jft on the peopled streets, where mingled din 
 Disturbs the mind, whose thoughts are turned within, 
 In haste emerging from the moving throngs, 
 Where every face portrays its inward wrongs ! 
 We two have met, then through my troubled heart 
 The sudden glance has pierced me like a dart ; 
 My frame grown paralyzed, my eyes cast down, 
 As when a child receives a father's frown. 
 Ah ! then, for hours I've struggled in dismay, 
 Unfit to follow on her hallow' d way, 
 To watch her steps, perchance to hear her voice, 
 Which would have made my very soul rejoice, 
 Then all, unnoticed, friend, or foe pass'd by 
 Without the recognition of mine eye ; 
 
22 SILENT LOVE. 
 
 The world, and all its inharmonious sound, 
 Silenc'd and seal'd in musings most profound, 
 Till startled into life, roused from the theme, 
 I would awake like sluggard from a dream. 
 And gazing round in stupor and surprise, 
 First on the earth and then upon the skies — 
 Myself I would upbraid most piteously, 
 And still exclaim — No man e'er lov d like me ! 
 
 J J hat fann'd the flame and made it brighter glow? 
 A power within, winch Stoics never know ! 
 Perchance we often met — I say not where, — 
 But where, alas ! no words, but glances were. 
 And then electric magic from each glance 
 Stole through my bosom like a burning lance ; — 
 Spoke to my spirit with a spirit's voice, 
 And made my soul in ecstacy rejoice ! 
 
SILENT LOVE. 23 
 
 A soft benignity of look was there, 
 A gleam of joy, a shadow of despair, 
 As fleecy clouds that glide o'er Luna's face, 
 But scarcely dim a portion of her grace, 
 Peopling my brain with new created themes, 
 That only lover knows, or poet dreams ; — 
 Pour'd noontide beams of glory o'er my soul 
 In light ethereal with divine control, 
 And hopes too high, too holy e'er to be 
 Enjoy' d, o'ercame me with sublimity ! 
 
 l! knew her home, and often passed that way, 
 Sure as the sun performed his course each day ; 
 Then at her lattice, beaming like the morn, 
 I saw the maid that made my heart forlorn ; 
 Though by this heavenly hope the spell was reared, 
 Our mutual prudence declaration feared ; 
 
24 SILENT LOVE. 
 
 Yet could I mark her straining, longing eyes, 
 
 Beam like twin stars through partly-shrouded skies. 
 
 Scoff not — for years I still pursued this art, 
 
 In hopes to wile the angel to my heart ; 
 
 In hopes to meet, to breathe the latent spell, 
 
 And if unkind, to sigh and say farewell ! 
 
 Such things, I said, have been, and still may be, 
 
 One only holds futurity's gold key. 
 
 <ij ! if the gods live on ambrosial food, 
 By mortals named, nor seen, nor understood — 
 So hope unseen by any eyes save mine, 
 Fed my young heart with nutriment divine ! 
 Rear'd me to feel with glowing soul of joy 
 The charms of love, though otherwise a boy. 
 The cup was sweet, I drank its deepest drop, 
 And still relied on never-dying hope, — 
 
SILENT LOVE. 25 
 
 O Hope ! thou sweet deceiver of the world ! 
 Thy banner is too temptingly unfurled — 
 How many seek thy phantom form to trace, 
 Till sorrow clouds the sunshine of the face ! 
 Led on and on by thy delusive sway, 
 Till youth and beauty languish both away, — 
 Till undeceived, we murmur, but in vain — 
 For who can turn to youth's gay mom again ! 
 Ah me ! if I should own thy sovereign power, 
 Who dares to blame ? See buds in every bower, 
 Whose lives are like to man's, a fleeting day — 
 Nursed up in hope to blossom and decay ! 
 Rear'cl by the dewy smiles of laughing morn, 
 Behold the rose adorn its native thorn, — 
 At mid-day throwing forth its rich perfume, — 
 At evening bending sadly o'er its tomb, 
 
2G SILENT LOVE. 
 
 Yet in its death a fragrance leaves behind, 
 Like retrospective thoughts within the mind ! 
 
 liiJETHiNKS I see some aged cynic smile, 
 And say, thou art the dupe of thine own guile — 
 Your actions could no better end declare, 
 For foolishness must always bring despair ! 
 Pshaw ! simpletons, your greatest wisdom lies 
 In the mean leer that lurks about your eyes, — 
 In the deceitful grin that clothes your cheek, 
 In the slow accents of your language sleek ; 
 Your life is spurned, and so your pedigree, 
 And self-esteem. No man e'er loved like me ! 
 
 c3he was a child when first our glances met, 
 Now womanhood upon her brow had set ; 
 Still look'd she lovely, lovelier than before ! 
 A creature everv eve might well adore, 
 
SILENT LOVE. 27 
 
 At least I thought so — love may have the power 
 To make the meanest weed appear a flower, — 
 Look through a medium always soft and kind, 
 Like distant landscapes pictured on the mind ! 
 Love gazes through a focus of its own, 
 To other eyes unseen and all unknown ; 
 So, if she still was lovely to my eye, 
 What should I care though all her charms decry, 
 I scarcely wish'd that other eyes should see 
 Her chastened worth, for she was all to me ! 
 
 IP sacred Love ! how innocent art thou ! 
 No malice sits on thy devoted brow — 
 No discord jars the strings around thy heart ; 
 Thou art an heavenly feeling, every part ! 
 No earthly lusts pollute thy chastened name, 
 These are consum'd to embers in the flame ! 
 
 D 
 
28 SILENT LOYE, 
 
 In all the strange arcanum of the mind, 
 
 Nought but their merest dust is left behind. 
 
 A blighter and more glorious spirit reigns — 
 
 A livelier current circles through the veins, 
 
 New thoughts, new fancies, hopes, and chaste desire, 
 
 With varied joys, that never, never tire ! 
 
 Sweet inspiration, with its wondrous charm, 
 
 Like power magnetic, draws the soul from harm ; 
 
 Yet, ever mingled with incessant fear, 
 
 Our joys partake the moisture of a tear ; 
 
 Since first of time it has been so, 'twill be 
 
 While life holds on, its marvellous mystery. 
 
 80 thus inspired, I chose her as my muse, 
 No better goddess could my bosom choose ! 
 The heathens had their deities, but she 
 Was less obscure, and more divine to me : 
 
SILENT LOVE. 29 
 
 But still in song I never breathed her name, 
 Fearful my feeble verse might cause her shame- 
 Fearful that such a liberty might chase 
 The partial smile of favour from her face. 
 Fearful the sneering world too might know 
 The favourite maid, who caused my latent woe, 
 And by the idle mouth of rumour quell 
 The fervid spirit of a cherish' cl spell. 
 No confidant had I, such I disown ! 
 Mine was a secret never to be known. 
 Nature had thrown her fairest robes away, 
 To weep in sackcloth on that fatal clay ! 
 Deep in my breast I treasured and revered 
 That holy word, and there its tendrils reared ; 
 It never, never shall in utterance be 
 A vulgar sound. No man e'er loved like me ! 
 
30 SILENT LOVE. 
 
 1/ J hat's in a name? "Arose would smell as sweet 
 By any other," is a trite conceit ! 
 Names give abhorrence if they are unkind, 
 A pain, a leprous feeling to the mind ! 
 Names that are wed to deeds of base desire, 
 Set holy feelings in the breast on fire ; 
 Association lingers in the sound, 
 The sore long cured becomes a second wound ; 
 Sad retrospection wakens up anew 
 Perhaps the pains of one who was untrue, 
 Where kind oblivion had her olive hung 
 In gentle peace to ease a bosom wrung. 
 There is a secret something that controls 
 With spectral gloom our never-slumbering souls ; 
 We look aghast, and struggle to conceal 
 The shock, that might a thousand truths reveal, 
 
SILENT LOVE. 31 
 
 And, as the recollection fades away, 
 
 So sunbeams fall upon our dark dismay ; 
 
 The branchy streams of life, a moment still, 
 
 Resume their course and mitigate the ill. 
 
 " What's in a name % " I can too plainly tell ! 
 
 A wondrous, inward-working, sacred spell, 
 
 That wheresoe'er one name escaped man's lips, 
 
 My spirit rose from out its dark eclipse, 
 
 And in the Sacred book I often found 
 
 The impress dear with heavenly halo bound ! 
 
 And angel forms seem'd whispering in mine ear 
 
 The accents of the name I loved so dear. 
 
 O ! when I met with one who own'd the same, 
 
 My heart's pulsations quicker went and came ; 
 
 All other thoughts were banish' d by the sound ; 
 
 My filming eyes fixed thoughtful on the ground ; 
 
32 SILENT LOVE. 
 
 Silence lias bound my tongue and chain' d my feet, 
 Struck by the accents of a sound so sweet, 
 And those around have whisper' d in mine ear — 
 Wherefore arises that instinctive tear ? 
 Wherefore ? All ! let none save an angel speak 
 In strains celestial and serenely sweet ! 
 An heavenly feeling fill'd my conscious heart, 
 Like fancied music which the spheres impart ; 
 No earth-taught tongue could in its might disclose 
 The eloquence it pour'd upon my woes, 
 Even heard from children in then wanton glee, 
 'Twas youth-renewing ecstacy to me. 
 
 v/Jhat time I went to rest, what time I rose, 
 My nunc! was throng'd with all these joys and woes, 
 'Mid sunlit scenes, in sylvan beauty green, 
 When morning minstrels sung the leaves between ; 
 
SILENT LOVE. 33 
 
 Methought I heard them chant in rapturous tone, 
 Get wed ! get wed ! why languish thus alone ? 
 Or when the glorious sun roll'd down the west, 
 And clouds lay lambent in their golden rest ; 
 Or when cool evening wept her dew on flowers, 
 To quench their thirst and spangle dsedal bowers, 
 There was no change — the pure etherial theme 
 Felt no exhausted fondness in its dream, 
 But reign' d and ruled an empress glad and free, 
 With boundless sway, in endless monarchy. 
 
 J was absence, like a spell, that chiefly bound 
 My captive heart with firmer irons round. 
 Absence, thou cheat of sight, thou more than blind 
 And dark deceiver ! wherefore so unkind, 
 To hide that heaven on earth I long'd to see % 
 O sightless eyes ! No man e'er loved like me ! 
 
34 SILENT LOVE. 
 
 Jhroug-h shadowy glade, or by meandering rill. 
 Where all bnt Nature's eloquence is still, 
 I, in the depth of uncontroll'd despair, 
 Address my sorrow to the soft-ear' d air. 
 O loved one of my bosom ! gentlest maid ! 
 Say, have I e'er thy tender truth betrayed ? 
 Does pensive silence wound thy heart like mine, 
 Or has oblivion sealed the charm divine % 
 Has Lethe's waters, pouring o'er thy mind, 
 Sunk all the varying passions, once so kind 1 
 Or was I wrong to look for love returned, 
 Though wildly and sincere this bosom burned ? 
 Alas I what reasons ever can explain 
 Such soul-consurning and unspoken pain % 
 A mutual mingling of two sprites above 
 Can only give a semblance of my love ! 
 
SILENT LOVE. 35 
 
 U woman ! woman ! ever true and kind, 
 Thou sweet perfection of the gentle mind ! 
 Blest to refine thy lord-like brother-man, 
 The last, but noblest of the Almighty's plan ! 
 How calm, how tender, and how full of love, 
 An earthly angel sent him from above ; — 
 A being in whose soft expressive eyes 
 We read the light, the language of the skies ! 
 
 TO* hat time the dulcet accents of thy voice 
 Mine ear receives, they make my heart rejoice ; 
 What time I see thy graceful form divine, 
 I feel in truth that loveliness is thine ; — 
 And in thy smile what matchless beauties blend, 
 Thou chasten' d gift ! thou everlasting friend ! 
 
 I each me, ye muses ! to portray her praise 
 In words of living fire, that burn always ; 
 
 E 
 
36 SILENT LOVE. 
 
 Let me unfold, in every glowing line, 
 Some charm, O woman ! that alone is thine ; 
 Inspire my pen, and dip it in my heart, 
 Let not a thought be chill' d by rigid art ; 
 Chain to remembrance all my bosom feels ; 
 Let time move slower on its viewless wheels, 
 Till all is writ on adamant, to stand 
 So long as light illumes my native land ! 
 
 © mainspring of domestic love and joy ! 
 Can man have haunts that would thy peace destroy f 
 Can any pleasures which these scenes impart 
 Float with such genuine feeling round the heart ? 
 Can gay companionship, or false desire, 
 More than then moment, mental breasts inspire ? 
 Ah ! no — in such society as thine, 
 Man only knows where truth and duty shine ! 
 
SILENT LOVE. 37 
 
 To thee alone belongs the syren power 
 To keep the odour in life's fading flower ; 
 To thee alone belongs the power to bind 
 The vernal growth of glory to the mind, 
 And man, however great and good he be, 
 Soon turns a blank, if once he turns from thee ! 
 
 JJiTB. what ensanguine words shall I impart 
 The genuine love that fills the mother's heart ; 
 That fond delight which glows in rapturous joy — 
 Nor poverty nor sickness can destroy, 
 When the first artless smile of love is given, 
 Which makes her baby more a tiling of heaven, 
 And on the dimpling cheek of peachy hue 
 This sign of recognition meets her view. 
 
 J J hex cares, like age, creep o'er us and destroy 
 The transitory flush of hope and joy, 
 
38 SILENT LOVE. 
 
 Her glowing tear of sympathy outvies 
 
 The spangly dew that on the violet lies, 
 
 Distilling purely from affection's well, 
 
 Where all the pearls of dear attraction dwell. 
 
 O blissful thought ! to see thee smile through these, 
 
 And all to give the burthen'd bosom ease ; — 
 
 O more than sainted sight, far more than earth, 
 
 When we reflect the feeling's genuine birth — 
 
 To soften man, to lead him from his care ; — 
 
 To wash away the stains of dark despair ; — 
 
 To reconcile his bosom to his fate, 
 
 O this is surely, truly, being great ! 
 
 lis thy heart gay, what can with thee compare? 
 What votive transports make thee still more fair ! 
 Can the vermillion add a sweeter hue, 
 Or art excel where all is purely true ? 
 
SILENT LOVE. 39 
 
 Can wealth or earthly vanities inspire, 
 Where love has set the vestal heart on fire 1 
 Careless alike of their too mean control, 
 Heaven holds a higher banquet in the soul ! 
 And Nature, as at first, free, undefiled, 
 Makes thee again as sinless as a child ! 
 
 IIJoes man desert thee, turn and love no more ; 
 Is thy soft passion then as fleetly o'er % — 
 All, no ! Is there in yonder varied bower 
 A fragile plant, a winter-breathing flower, 
 That, by degrees, droops into pale decay, 
 And wanes in silent loneliness away % 
 E'en so fade hopes and happiness in thee — 
 Emblem of spring — hen of eternity ! 
 
 cJhe was the heroine, then, of every tale 
 That flushed my cheek, or made it sickly pale ; 
 
40 SILENT LOVE. 
 
 In dreams I saw her vision' d forth in joy, 
 
 And felt as young and buoyant as a boy ! 
 
 Heard her discourse of future joys, and tell 
 
 How much she lov'd, and thought she lov'd too well ; 
 
 Thus fancy ever form'd ideal things, 
 
 Till I could hear the rustling of the wings 
 
 Of beings of the sky. — To love is given 
 
 A power to feel and taste the joys of heaven ! 
 
 Hear with new ears, to see with seer-like eyes, 
 
 And, phoenix-like, from fear's pale ashes rise ! 
 
 J j hen love was young, the gods celestial lay 
 On gold-tinged clouds that hemm'd the skirts of day ; 
 Grazing hi glory from their couch on high, 
 A misty globe seem'd rolling down the sky, 
 And on its disc two speck-like forms did move — 
 The earliest pair wed to devoted love ; 
 
A 
 
 p ; 40.1^X-2. 
 
SILENT LOVE. 41 
 
 'Twas Eve and Adam wandering hand-in-hand, 
 
 The sole possessors of that sphere-like land ! 
 
 Inspiring love ! who shall thy powers portray, 
 Howe'er unbless'd thy votaries fade away ? 
 Bridle the winds, set limits to the sea, 
 Bid wandering clonds to be no longer free ; 
 Call eagles from the air on high, and bid 
 The hills decay, and in the seas be hid ; 
 Tell Spring it mnst not bud, and Autumn brown 
 To keep its leaves and throw no foliage down ; 
 Bid structures rise in rows at thy command, 
 Without materials or the artist's hand ; 
 Teach man to live on air, and rocks to fly, 
 Tell birds no more to roam the ambient sky : 
 Do all these things, — when ye so powerful prove, 
 Then put yoiu definitions upon love ! 
 
42 SILENT LOVE. 
 
 ILiovE framed the world, and love created man, 
 Love is the soul of the infinite plan ; 
 Love is the spring of every glorious deed, 
 Love makes the patriot for his country bleed ; 
 Love is the bliss of every 7 christian mind, 
 Love makes the generous to the needful kind ; 
 Love makes the mother o'er her infant weep, 
 When death has closed its eyes hi icy sleep ; 
 Love bids the heathen worship at the sun, 
 Where truth and science have not yet begun ; 
 Love made famed Wallace like a Hon bold, 
 When she he lov'd was basely slam of old ; 
 Love was the parent of the tear first shed, 
 When gentle Eve beheld her Abel dead ; 
 Love breathes more sweet than seraph ever sung, 
 Its accents are too soft for human tongue ; 
 
SILENT LOVE. 43 
 
 Love has its sighs, on whose fair wings are borne 
 A beam of gladness brighter than the morn ; 
 Love makes me write this retrospective lay, 
 Whatever readers think, or critics say ! 
 Hush, then, nor deem it wisdom to be free 
 Of love's gold links — No man e'er loved like me ! 
 V ! whekefoke then in anguish pine away ? 
 Thus oft mine inward monitor would say, 
 Why not declare, in words not yet express' d, 
 The secret, silent sorrow of thy breast ? 
 It shall be so, I boldly would reply, 
 And then reviving gladness lit mine eye ; 
 It shall be so ; O vain ! O weak desire ! 
 Dissolving like the snow when cast on fire. 
 Alas ! alas ! even when I grasped the pen, 
 I felt I could not act like other men — 
 
 F 
 
44 SILENT LOVE. 
 
 A tremulous feeling shook my veiy frame, 
 
 I could not breathe, I could not write her name. 
 
 O sad resolve ! how quickly wouldst thou fly 
 
 Upon the pinions of a pensive sigh ! 
 
 For prudence, when it rules the mind aright, 
 
 With hope and doubt — alternate day and night — 
 
 Creates a fearful feeling, half insane ! 
 
 Which dreads the merest semblance of disdain ; 
 
 This wondrous sensibility of mind 
 
 Can brook no look, no accent that's unkind ; 
 
 A no , instead of yes, — no more ! no more ! 
 
 The very thought sends poison to the core ; 
 
 For this might to the sanguine soul convey 
 
 A dreaded fate, a desperate dismay, 
 
 An humbled, an abash' d, and startling pain, 
 
 That might no more be curb'd by reason's rein. 
 
SILENT LOVE. 45 
 
 Better, O better far ! in each degree, 
 Unspoken wish. — No man e'er loved like njfc- ! 
 
 Thus oft I long'd to tell my secret mind 
 To some dear friend whose sympathies were kind, 
 That we might meet, as if it were by chance, 
 Round festive board, or in the mazy dance ; 
 But, oh ! I durst not speak the tremulous tale, 
 So often sigh'd on evening's dewy gale, — 
 So deeply graven on each page of lite, 
 The source of all my happiness and strife ; 
 Yet when I oped the guest-inclosing door, 
 And tript in lightness o'er the velvet floor, 
 I've gazed around with wild and wond'ring stare, 
 Perhaps to see if such an one were there ; 
 Ah ! then my anxious spirit would grow still, 
 And reason reign with more quiescent will, 
 
46 SILENT LOVE. 
 
 For what I long'd so much in joy to greet, 
 My timid spirit could not brook to meet. 
 I could not trust my heart, full well I knew 
 A sudden glance would all my frame subdue ; — 
 Would thus expose the workings of my soul, 
 O'er which my manhood could not hold control. 
 She never came — O strange, O weak dismay ! 
 Thus, day and night, my hours stole sad away, 
 For ever bent on one engrossing theme, 
 Yet all uncertain as a poet's dream ! 
 
 irAT last I left my home, went far away 
 To mix with crowds of strangers, where the gay 
 And gorgeous wheels of luxury roll along 
 In an outvying and tumultuous throng ! 
 Where painted pride and mimicry conspire 
 To peep contemptuous from then gay attire, 
 
SILENT LOVE. 47 
 
 And toys in artificial, fond display, 
 
 Sleep all the morn to gild the eve of clay ! 
 
 Lolling in soft and indolent repose, 
 
 As if the poor lack'd none to soothe their woes. 
 
 II ! hearts diseased by pride and fashion's glow, 
 Are these the only raptures that ye know ? 
 Is there no joy in cheering lonely hearts, — 
 In plucking from fell poverty its darts ? 
 Is there no aged breast by want subdued ? 
 No flowers to spread where thorns are only strewed 1 
 No sympathy, no gentle hand to give 
 To woe-worn wretches who scarce care to live ? 
 Your pleasures cannot charm my marvelling eye, 
 Go teach those ones to smile whose life's a sigh ; — 
 Go ease the couch of death — of deep dismay, — 
 'Twill give relief when earthly joys decay. 
 
48 SILENT LOVE. 
 
 I've sought your haunts to mitigate my care, 
 
 But, ah ! ye but contrast a world's despair ; 
 
 So hapless beings fly to banish woe, 
 
 Forgetting 'tis within where'er they go. 
 
 Earth's noblest sights, earth's wonder-working men, 
 
 Cannot obliterate my immortal ken ! — 
 
 The smile of peer or princess has no power 
 
 To wile my loved one from my breast an hour ; 
 
 In every changeful scene, O ! only she 
 
 Is present most, and holds supremacy. 
 
 JLiONG, long, I wander' d 'mid the gay and fair, 
 Striving to seem the happiest mortal there ;— 
 Striving to soothe my sad, my chequered life, 
 And thus extract sweet comfort from my strife. 
 Alas ! they knew not when they saw me smile, 
 Another charmer charm' d me all the while. 
 
SILENT LOVE. 49 
 
 I wore her beauteous image in my soul ; 
 Through every thought the dear enchantment stole ! 
 Through every vein I felt her being move, 
 Inhaled her spirit and exhaled her love ! 
 The dreamy cup I drank of sparkling hope, 
 And suck'd it still, to drain the latest drop ; 
 Deep in my breast, like dew-drop in a flower, 
 It lay conceal' d, but gave refreshing power ; 
 Till high enraptured with the draught divine, 
 My soul dissolved at the enhallowed shrine ! 
 
 Though poor the world, yet in one person joined, 
 Beauty and wealth more often meet than mind ! 
 But she was mind to me, an endless theme 
 That fed my day-thoughts and my midnight dream ; 
 The joy of life from which I always drew 
 Something delicious, something ever new ! 
 
50 SILENT LOVE. 
 
 Yet absence oft brought sorrow o'er my mind, 
 Like dark clouds sailing on the summer wind, 
 Till lost in thought, subdued in heart and speech, 
 Unbroken silence countless fears would teach ; 
 And then they said, he treads his native hills, 
 And gazes fondly on their foaming rills, — 
 Sees the proud eagle in its heaven-ward flight 
 Towering above, 'mid clouds of storm and night ! — 
 When clark-soul'd winter o'er his cottage hung, 
 And feeling, hope, and life, itself were young ! 
 Hears downward streams, that, as they glide along, 
 Have all their own and most peculiar song ; — 
 Draws beauty from the lakes, health from the breeze 
 That sails the surface of the weltering seas — 
 Nor love, nor art, nor sorrow could they see 
 In all my acts. — No man e'er loved like me ! 
 
SILENT LOVE. 51 
 
 IT hink of a bosom wrung with deep despair, 
 Between sweet hope, sad doubt, and joy and care ; 
 Say what you will, or what you would have done, 
 Ye speak the words of folly every one ! 
 Say, then, could I, whose boyhood grew in love, 
 Throw off its chains, and all its charms disprove 1 
 As well might eagle caged, with starry eye, 
 Assume to rise in gladness to the sky : — 
 As well might captive in his dungeon-cell 
 Take ease by purling brook or heathery dell, 
 Or mother, weeping o'er her only child 
 That death had chill' d, be from her grief beguiled, 
 And slaves console themselves that they are free 
 While irons clank. No man e'er loved like me ! 
 
 Wet deem me not in fancy weak or vain 
 In echoing forth this sad pathetic strain ; 
 
 G 
 
52 SILENT LOVE. 
 
 'Tis but to prove what love can still deny, 
 When wealth and influence would affection buy ! 
 'Tis but to show the sceptic he is wrong 
 In saying love cannot endure so long ; 
 Exclaiming — all is madness — as his soul 
 Has never known its magical control. 
 Think for yourselves — but like a culprit I 
 Was doom'd for her to live, for her to die ! 
 She bound my spirit with magnetic chains, 
 One hour of bliss was mine for years* of pains ! 
 Yet all these pains were mingled with a charm 
 That could the world's cold, selfish, arts disarm, 
 Engendering new ideas as they swept 
 The pensile clouds where love dominion kept, 
 And passing through Hope's crucible, refined 
 The ruder thoughts that rule the common mind ; 
 
SILENT LOVE. 53 
 
 I would not lose the joy for all the pain, 
 Though doom'd to tread the rugged path again ! 
 Still could I cherish buds that bleakly grew, 
 Cast forth their seeds and watch then growth anew, 
 For I had given my heart with vows most true, 
 And if I'd had another, had given it too ! 
 Yet in my grief I languish' d to be free, 
 So strange is thought — so weak humanity ! 
 
 kfiRED of a land of strange and selfish men, 
 I sought my Scottish mountain-home again, 
 And when I leap'd upon the rock-ribb'd strand, 
 Methought I felt the pressure of her hand — 
 Methought I saw her smile, and heard her say — 
 Welcome, O ! welcome, wherefore did ye stray ? 
 Speak as thou wilt, but with these hands I'll bind 
 Myself to thee, and know thy inmost mind ! 
 
54 SILENT LOVE. 
 
 then I breathed the burden of my heart, 
 Nor longer seal'd my soul, while at each part 
 She hung her head and answered to my sighs 
 With tears of love depending from her eyes ! 
 Methought I kiss'd her cheek — O heaven ! what joy, 
 After a winter of prolong'd alloy — 
 
 Methought I clasp'd her gently in my arms, 
 And in their folds embraced a world of charms ! 
 
 1 heard her voice, 'twas soft and silvery clear, 
 Like angel's accents steal upon mine ear, — 
 
 I gazed with transport in her face so fair, 
 And love's devotion reign'd in triumph there ! 
 Anon her tears would flow with very joy, 
 And then my heart return' d them like a boy ! 
 While utterance died a martyr in my breast, 
 And what I long'd to say was unexpress'd. 
 
SILENT LOVE. 55 
 
 O soft delusive charm! O vision' d joy ! 
 
 Why is your triumph only to annoy ? 
 
 Why is the path of love so wildly high, 
 
 With rocks and ramparts mingling with the sky % 
 
 Alas ! the dream was short, the moment gay, 
 
 Vanish'd too soon in nothingness away ; 
 
 For when I reach' d her home with anxious pain, 
 
 Determin'd thus my secret to explain, 
 
 She, she was gone, gone to her lasting rest, 
 
 The generous passion wither'd in her breast ; 
 
 Gone with her maiden-grief, gone ne'er to be — 
 
 And yet I live. — O piteous destiny ! 
 
 JmND yet I live to personate my woe, 
 A lingering shadow, moving too and fro ! 
 Live still when all my earthly hopes are fled — 
 When all that gave enchantment now is dead ! 
 
56 SILENT LOVE. 
 
 Mark'd more by grief and solitary thought, 
 Than e'er on heart of hapless mortal wrought ; — 
 Than ever thrill' d the plastic mind of man, 
 Whose secret might cold learning cannot scan ; 
 Sad retrospection striving to destroy 
 The autumn of a life that else were joy ; 
 Hope wither'd like a flower when winter chill 
 From arctic regions comes with direful will, 
 With all the rooted blessing of my mind 
 Tom up and strewn in handfuls on the wind ! 
 Time's finger hath done much, my silvery hair 
 But partly shrouds a brow of lined despair ! 
 But sorrow hath done more, hath sear'd my soul, 
 And writ this awful history on its scroll ; 
 And when I leave this earth to soar on high, 
 O ! may her spirit meet me in the sky ! 
 
SILENT LOVE. 57 
 
 O may we then declare a mutual love, 
 If spirits blend in harmony above. 
 In firm reliance on this hope divine, 
 May calmer grief and holier thought be mine ! 
 iliiY tale is told, let all who read the same 
 Forgive its faults — I ask no better fame ! — 
 Forgive the ardour of a love so strange, 
 That, 'mid all other changes, knew no change ; 
 My heart is lighten' d by this honest lay, 
 And, for a thne, has thrown its load away. 
 A leaden weight that but too sadly bore 
 A vital ulcer, eating to the core, 
 And in its path puissant stole along 
 The living chords that whilom thrill' d with song ! 
 I've traced my love from childhood into age, 
 And mark'd its growth in every echoing page, 
 
58 SILENT LOVE. 
 
 With soul-felt candour only as my aim, 
 
 Which ever lives through endless time the same ! 
 
 O may your loves be happier far than mine ! 
 
 Dread not to worship at the sainted shrine ; 
 
 Let reason guide you, look for sweet success, 
 
 Nor sicken at the tale of my distress. 
 
 Seek truth, be faithful, worth is more than gold ; — 
 
 Worth cheers the heart when other charms grow old ! 
 
 With first love's joys, O ! may ye blessed be. 
 
 One truth believe — No man e'er lov'd like me ! 
 
 NETLSON AND MURRAY, PRINTERS, PATSLEY. 
 
DlLECTy POI rA!v..|.K] C aiLOCOiyiP.L ECTEl/1 S « 
 
 p ; 56. 1, 15-16... 
 
 T^ 
 


 ^o 
 
 rv 
 
 i 
 
*■: ft ft ft ft. ft. ft ft ft ft ft :*: * ft ft ft ft. ft ft. ft: .ft: m 
 
 ¥ ¥• ¥ ¥*. ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ; 
 
 *: . :■*: :■*■; ¥ # "■:$•: :■# •>: * # ¥ ¥ ft. ft ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ j 
 
 ^ ^ ¥ ¥¥¥¥¥¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ : 
 
 ^; .;*: . ^ . # # ¥; ¥ ¥ ¥ :*: !¥ ¥ '¥ ¥ ¥ ¥' ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ 
 
 ¥ •¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ft ¥ i 
 %:■, ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ffi ¥'¥¥¥¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ 
 
 ¥ 'ft' ft ft. .ft. ft. ft: "ft- ft ft ft ft ft. ft ft ¥' ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ i 
 ¥.. ft ft- ft' ft' ft ft ft. ft. 'ft -ft. ft: ft ft ft. 'ft. ¥¥¥!¥¥ 
 
 ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ft ¥ ¥ ft. ft ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ft. ft ft'm 
 ¥. ¥ ¥ ¥ ft ft. ft ft- ft. ft. ft ft. ft ft. ft.' ft. ft ft ft ft. M 
 
 ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ft. ft ft. ft. ft. ft. ft !¥! ¥ & ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ft. ft:'. 
 ¥. ¥ ¥ ¥ ft. !¥! !¥! ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ft. ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ 
 
 ¥ ¥ !¥ ¥ ft ¥ # !¥ ¥ ¥ ft. ft. ¥ ft. ¥ # ¥ ¥!. 'ft ft. h 
 ¥. ¥ ¥ ¥ ft ft ft. ¥ !¥ !¥! & ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ': 
 
 ^ ¥ ¥ ^ ^: ¥ ¥ ¥i ¥ ^ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ^ ¥ 
 
 *: ft ft ft. ft. "M .ft ft ft. ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ¥ >k mm 
 
 ft. ft ft. !¥ !¥ !¥ !¥ ¥i ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ft. ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ I 
 ¥. ¥ ft, ¥ ft. ft. ¥ !¥ ¥ ¥ ft. ft ft ft ft. ft. ¥ ft. ft. ft M 
 
 ft^ ft. ft ft'- ft. ft ft. ft. ft ft ft ft. -ft ft. ft. ft ft. ft ft ft W 
 ¥. ft: ft. ft- ft ft. ft. ft ft -ft..- ft ft- ft ft ft ft ft. ft ¥ ¥ ¥ 
 
 ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ft. ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ft ¥ ft. ¥ ¥ ft ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ I 
 ¥. ft ft:, ft ft ft. ft. ft. ft. ft., ft ft. ft ft. ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ 
 
 ft. 'ft. ft ft -ft ft ft. ft -ft -ft' ft ft: ft ft 'ft- ft ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ 
 ¥ ¥: ¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥ ¥ ft. ft. ¥ 
 
 ft: ft '.ft, -ft: ft ft ■•' ft. ft. ft. ft ft- ft.. -ft- ft ft ft. "ft -ft -ft. ft.M 
 ft ft. ft ft. ft. ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft. ft ft ft. ft. ft. 
 
 ¥¥ ft. ft. ft. ft ft. ft ft. ft: ft. ft. ft. ft. ft. ft ft. ft. ft. ft. ft 
 ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ '¥. ¥ ft ft. ft ft ft ¥ ¥ ft. ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ 
 
 ft:, ft -ft ft. ft.- -ft ft -ft- ft -ft. ft. ft. ft. ft. ft. ft ft. ft. ft . ft '1 
 ¥ ¥ ft. ft ft ft. ft. ft. ft ft. ft ft. ft. ft. ft. ft. "ft. ft. ft ft. ft 
 
 ft. ft: ft ft. ft. ft. ft. ft. /ft ft ft. ft ft. ft. ft. ft. ft. ft ft. ft. ft 
 
 ft. ft. 'ft. ft- ft ft. ft. ft. ft. ft. ft. ft ft. ft ft, ft ft ft. ftM 
 
 ft. ft: ft- ft. ft- ft ft. ft ft ft ft ft ft. ft< ft ft. ft' M 
 ft. ft. ¥ ft. ft. ft ft. ft. ft ft. ft ft. ft ft. ft. ft. ¥¥¥¥¥ 
 
 ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ft. ft. ft. ft ft ft ft. ft ft. ft. ¥ ¥ ft. ft. ft; ft ft 
 ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ft. ft. ft. ft ft ft ft. ft. ft. ft. ft ft ft. ft. ft 
 
 ¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥!¥ ft. ft.-M 
 ¥¥¥¥'¥'¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥ 
 
 ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥[ ft. ft ft ft ft. ft. ft. ft. ft. ft. ft. ft ft- ft. I 
 ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥f ¥ ¥ -ft. ft. ft. ft ft ft. M ft. ft. ft. ft. ft. ft ft 
 
 ¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥ 
 ¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥ ft. ft. ft. ft. "ft 
 
 ft ft ft. ft ft ft. ft. ft ft. .ft. ft ft. ft ft ft ft ft. ft. ft. ft ft. 
 ft. ft. ft. ft. ft. ft-'ft.-- ft. ft. .ft:- ft- ft. ft. ft. ft. 'ft ft. ft: ft' ft' M 
 
 ft ft ft. ft. ft. ft ft ft. ft. ft ft. ft ft ft. ft. > ft ft. ft ft. .1 
 
 ft ft: -w. -ft ft ft ft. ft: ft* ft. ft .ft. ft. 'ft. ft -ft. ft ft:, ft. -ft. ft 
 
 ¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ 
 ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ft. ft. 
 
 ft. ft. ft. ft ft ft. ft ft. ft ft. ft. ft. ft. ft. ft. ft ¥¥^^^ 
 ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ■■ ft. ft: ft ft. ft. ft, ft- ft: ft ft. ft ft. ft. ft ft. ft ft 
 
 ¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥ ¥ ¥ ft. ft m 
 ¥ ¥ ¥ .ft ft. ft. ft ft ft ft ft. ft. ft ft. ft. ft. ft. ft: ft ft ft 
 
 ¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥: ¥ ft. ft. ft. ft. ft ft. ft ft 
 ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ft: ft. ft. ft: ft: ft: ■ ft. ft. ft. ■ ft ft. ft. ft. ft. ft. ft 
 
 ¥ ¥ ¥ ft ft -ft. ft- "ft. ft "ft ft "ft ft. ft. ft. ft. ft. ft. ft. ftrM 
 
 ft: ft: ft: ft ft ft ft ft: ^ ft. ft., ft. ft. ft. ft ft ft. ft. ft ft ft. ft 
 
 ¥¥¥¥¥¥¥ ¥ ¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥ 
 
ft. ft. ?fr ft ^ tt ft. ft. ft. ft. ft. ft. ft. ft. ft. ft ft. ft. ft. ft 
 ¥ ft ft, -ft ft ft ft ft. ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft 
 
 ¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥.¥¥¥¥¥¥¥ 
 I '.¥. '#. ¥i "&. ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ .¥ ¥ ¥* ¥ ft ¥ ¥ ' ¥ ¥. >! M- ? 
 
 ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ¥ ¥ ft ft ft ft ft 
 
 : ft. ¥ ¥ ¥ ft. ft ft. ft. ft. ft. ft. ft. 'ft ¥¥¥¥.¥¥: 
 
 ft ft ft ft ft ft -ft ft ft ft ft ft; ft ft. ft. Sft; 'ft ■& ft? ■%. 
 
 : ¥ m >: ¥ . ¥ ¥ ¥- :■*■' ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ .¥¥¥-¥¥-'.¥?.; 
 
 ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft_ ft ft ft -ft ft ft, ft ft ft ft. ft. ft 
 
 :¥¥:¥¥:¥¥:¥¥¥¥::¥¥¥ ¥¥¥¥¥>•¥:- 
 
 ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ft'. ¥ ¥ ¥ -'ft' ¥¥-¥¥¥¥¥ 
 
 ft ft ft ft .ft ft ft ft ft ft ft + • ft ft ft ft ft ft ft 
 
 ft ft ft ft ft ft -ft *- ft' ft ft ft ft * ft ft ft ft ft ft 
 
 ft, ft ft ft, ft ft ft ft ft ;# ft, ft ft ft r ft, ft ft ft ft 
 
 ft ft ft ft ft. ft ft ft. ft ft. ft: ft ft ft- ft. ft. -ft ft ft^ ft 
 
 :¥¥:¥:¥¥:¥¥¥¥¥:¥¥¥ ¥/¥¥¥¥¥:- 
 
 ¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥ 
 
 ¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥; 
 ¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥ 
 
 ;#•*::*:.¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥; 
 
 ¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥.¥¥¥ 
 ■ft, ft. [ft ft ft. ft. ft, ft 'ft ft. ft ft ft 'ft. ft. ft -ft ft 
 
 ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft "ft ft -ft ft ft 
 
 ft: 'M ft ¥ 'ft: 'ft. ft. ft. ft ft. 'ft. ft ¥ ¥¥¥---■■' 
 ¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥ 
 
 ft ft ft. -ft ft. ft ft ftC ft ft ft ft ft ft. ft. ft, ft. ft 
 
 ¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥ 
 
 ¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥ ¥¥¥¥¥¥¥'; 
 
 ¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥ 
 ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft . # ft ft ft $ ft ft ^ ft , 
 
 ft : ft ¥ ¥ 'ft ¥ ft 'ft: ft ft ft ft ft ¥¥¥¥¥¥¥ 
 -ft, ft ft ft. ft. ft. ft ft % ft ft ft ft ft ft ft. ft ft. ft ^ft > 
 
 ¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥ 
 ¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥.¥¥ -ft 
 
 ¥¥¥¥¥¥¥ ft. ft ft ft ft ft ft. 'M ■ '^. ^. 'ft ft. ft 
 
 ft, ft ft ¥ 'M 'ft ft. ft. : ft, ft ft ft -ft ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ft 
 
 ft. ft: *. ft. '& ft: ft: ft. ft. ft. ft 'ft V '¥¥¥¥¥ ¥ ft: 
 
 ¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥> 
 ¥¥¥¥¥¥ ¥ ¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥ 
 
 ft 'ft. 'ft. ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ft ¥¥¥"¥'¥¥¥¥¥¥¥> 
 ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ '¥ ¥' ¥' '¥¥¥¥¥¥ ¥ 
 
 ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ 'ft ¥¥•¥¥¥- ¥ 'ft 
 ft. ft ft. ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft- 'ft ft ft # ft -ftf ft 
 
 ¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥•¥¥¥¥¥ ¥¥¥¥¥¥> 
 ¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥'¥ ¥° ¥ ¥ ¥ 
 
 ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ '.ft ft. ft ft. ft ft ft ft ft ft ft &■:■% 
 
 ft ft ft. ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ^ ft ft ft ft 
 
 ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft- ft ft ft ft ft -ft ft 
 
 ft. ft. ft. ft. ft. ft. ft "ft ft ¥'¥¥'¥'¥¥¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ 
 
 ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft- ft 
 ft ft ft ft ft- ft ft ft ft ft ft ft . ft ft ft ft ft. 
 
 ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ft ft ft ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ; 
 
 ¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ft ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ 
 
 ¥ ft. ft ft. ft. ft. ft ft ft ft ft ¥¥¥¥¥;' 
 ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ft. ¥ ¥ ft 
 
 ft. ft. ft ft ft ft ft. ft 'ft ft ft ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ 
 ft ft ft ft. ft ft ft * ft ft. ft ft. ft ft ft. ft ft. 
 
 ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ^ ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft. 
 
 it ft. ft ft ■ ft ft ft ft ft ft ft' ft ft- ft ft ft: ft ' [ 
 
 ft ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥ ¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥* 
 
:*: ft ft. ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ":■*■: # :*: • ■*-: ft ft ft ft ft. ft : 
 
 t ■'.:*: ■ ■¥. # ' :■# :*: # # :*: ft ft ft >k ^ ######&$; 
 
 *: # :*:■ :■*■: - $: <# # --:•# # :■*■: # # :■$■: :*-: ft ft. * -:-*-: .;■*■: :■*: •*■: ; 
 
 f & -.:■*;■-, ft ft ft ' % >k - >i . ■ $ - ft ■ ft #*#:*;*¥¥### 
 
 *: ¥ :*' :*: # ft. :*■: ■:■& :■*■: :*i ft. ft ft. ft ft. ft ft. :•*■• # ;*: # ; 
 
 ^: ft ft. ft. ft, ft. ft. ft ft. ft. ft. "ft. ft. ft. ft.' ft ft ft. ft ft. 
 
 ft ft. -ft. ft ft. ft. ft. ft ft. ft. ft ft. ft ft. ft. ft. ft. ft ft ft. ft. I 
 
 ■i ft. ft. ft. ft. ft. -ft ft. ft. ft. 'ft. ft. ft. ft. ft ft. ft ft ft ft ft. ft 
 ft. ft. ft ft. ft. ft. ft ft ft ft. ft. ft. ft. ft. ft. ft. ft. ft ft ft. ft. ': 
 
 * ft. ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft. ft ft ft ft. ft. ft. ft ft ft ft. ft 
 ft ft. ft ft. ft. ft ft ft ft. ft ft. ft ft ft. ft. ft. ft. 'ft ft ft. ft .1 
 
 *: 'ft. ft .ft. ft ft ft ft ft. ft ft. ft ft ft ft ft. : ft. ft ft ft ft m 
 
 ftft/:ft/ft:.ft.-y^-ft.ft.-:ft-ft.'ft.'Mft-ft.ft.ft.-ft.'ft"ftftft^* 
 -. ft ft. ft. ft ft ft ft. 'ft ft. ft ft ft ft ft, ft. ft. ft ft. ft. ft. ft. 
 
 ft ft ft ft ft ft ft. ft. ft. ft. ft ft. ft. ft. ft ft. ft. ft ft ft. ft. : 
 
 v ft ft ft ft ft ft ft., ft ft ft ft ft. ft. ft ft "ft. ft ft. ft ft M 
 
 ft ft ft ft ft ft. ft ft ft ft ft. ft. ft. ft ft. ft. ft. ft. ft ft. ft. : 
 
 i ft ft ft ft ft. ft ft. ft. ft. ft. ft. ft ft ft. ft. ft ft ft. ft ft. ft 
 
 ft. ft ft. ft ft. ft ft ft. ft. -ft. ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft. ft. I 
 
 * ft. ft. ft, ft ft .ft. ft ft ft. ft ft ft ft ft ft ft. ft. ft. ft. ft. ft 
 
 ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft. ft ft ft-ft ft ft ft ft ft ft. ft : 
 ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft. ft ft ft ft. ft ft ft ft ft ft. ft. ft 
 : . ft. ft. ft ft. ft ft ft ft. ft ft. ft ft. ft ft ft. ft. ft. ft. ft I 
 ft ft ft ft ft. ft ft. ft ft., ft ft. ft. ft., ft ft ft. ft. ft. ft. ft 
 
 ft ft. ft. ft ft ft ft ft ft ft. ft ft. ft. ft. ft ft ft ft. ft ft ft. \ 
 
 '£ ft ft. ft ft. ft ft ft. x ft: ft. ft. ft ft. ft ft ft. ft. ft. ft. ft. ft. M 
 
 ft. ft ft. ft ft ft ft : ft ft ft. ft ft -ft., ft. ft. ft. ft ft ft ft. ft. 4 
 
 K ft ft. ft. ft ft ft ft. ft ft ft. ft. ft. ft. ft. ft. ft ft. ft ft. ft. ft 
 
 ft. ft. ft .ft. ft. ft. ft ft. ft ft. ft ft. ft. ft. ft. ft. ft ft ft. ft. ft ]< 
 
 K ft. ft. ft. ft ft. ft. ft .ft ft. ft ft ft ft. ft. ft ft ft ft. ft ft. "ft 
 
 ft ft. ft. ft. ft. ft, ft ft. ft. ft. ft. ft. ft. ft. ft ft. ft. ft. ft. ft. ft. . 
 
 ft. ft. ft. ft ft. ft ft. ft ft ft. ft. ft. ft. ft. ft. ft. ft. ft ft. ft. 
 
 ft. ft, ft. ft. ft. ft' ft: ft. /ft ft ft. ft. ft. ft ft. ft. ft ft ft ft:'} 
 
 ft. ft -ft. ft.> ft. ft. ft ft ft. ft. ft ft ft. ft ft ft. ft ft. ft 
 
 ft. ft. ft ft ft. ft. ft ft. ft ft. ft. ft. ft. ft. ft. ft. ft. I 
 
 ft ft "ft ft ft ft. ft ft. ft. ft. ft -ft ft ft] ft ft ft. ft. ft. ft. 
 
 ft. ft ft ft ft. ft. ft ft ft ft ft ft. ft ft. ft. ft. ft ft. ■ ft. ft: ft * 
 
 * ft. ft. ft. ft ft ft ft ft. ft. ft ft ft ft. ft. ft ft. ft ft ft. ft. ft 
 ft. ft. ft ft ft. ft ft ft. ft. ft ft. ft ft ft. ft. ft. ft ft ft. ft. <\ 
 
 i ft. ft ft 'ft ft. ft. ft. ft. ft ft. ft. ft. ft. ft "ft. ft. ft. ft ft. "ft. 
 ft. -ft: ft ft- ft. ft: ft. :ft: 'M ft. ft. ft. ft. ft. ft. 'ft. ft.'- W. ft. ft. -I 
 
 ft. ft. ft ft ft ft. ft. ft. ft ft ft. ft. ft. ft. ft ft ft ft. ft ft. 
 
 ft. ft. ft ft. ft. ft. ft. ft. ft ft ft ft. ft. ft. ft. ft. ft. ft. ft. ft ft. . 
 £ ft 'ft. ft. ft ft' ft. ft; ft' M ft. ft. 'ft. ft.' ft. ft ft. ft. ft. ft ft. "ft 
 
 ft. ft ft. ft. ft. ft -ft. ft. ft ft .ft. ft. ft. ft. ft ft. ft ft. ft ft. ft : 
 £ ft ft ft ft. ft ft. ft- ft ft ft ft. ft. ft ft. ft. ft. ft. ft. ft ft. ft. 
 
 ft ft ft. ft' ft ft. ft ft ft. ft -ft ft. ft. 'ft ft. ft. ft ft ft. ft. ft. '■ 
 H: ft. ft. "ft -ft "ft ft ft ft. 'ft*- ft. ft M ft. ft. ft. ft. ft. ft. ft. ft. ft. 
 
 "ft.- ft -ft ft. ft: ft ft ft. ft. ft ft. ft. -ft. ft ft. ft ft ft ft. ft. ft ' 
 
 Hi ft ft. ft ft ft ft ft ft ft -ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft. ft. ft ft. ft 
 
 ft. ft ft. ft. ft ft ft ft ft. ft. ft. ft. ft. ft ft. ft. ft i+i i+i i+i * i 
 £ ft ft ft. ft ft ft- ft. ft. ft. ft ft- ft- ft. ft ft ft. ft' ft ft ft: -ft. 
 
 ft ft. & ft. :& ft ft ft ft ft. ft ft ft. ;ft ft. ft ft. ft ft ft ft : 
 
 K ft. ft ft .ft "ft: ft ft ft ft ft ft. ft. ft ft ft. ft. ft. ft:- ft ft ft 
 
 - ft ft ft ft ft -ft ft ft ft ft ft. ft- ft ft ft] ft. ft ft. ft. ft : 
 
 Hi ft i*i ft ft ft ft ft. ft ft: ft ft ft. ft. ft. ft. ft. ft. ft. ft ft ft. 
 
 ft ft. ft. ft ft ft ft. ft. ft. ft ft. ft. ft. ft. ft 'ft. ft. ft. ft. ft. ft. : 
 hi .ft. ft. ft] ft. ft ft ft ft: ft. ft. ft. ft. ft. ft. ft. ft ft ft ft ft: ft 
 ft ft. ft ft ft ft ■ ft ft ft ft ft. ft. ft ft. ft. ft ft. ft ft ft ft. 
 
*. M ft. ^ .-iff ?fr ^ ^ ^fr. jfc # 4tf # *r ?fr ** ?fr .^r 4ft .4ft 
 
 ; ft ft ^ ^i ^ ^ ^ ^ &.# #-: $ $ # :*: & $ $ # 3 
 ¥¥#¥¥#*¥¥¥#¥¥.#¥¥¥*:£¥ 
 ;;- ft. ft ft. ft :*-: ft # ■ $ . # m ft: ft ft & ft 'ft .:*'■;*:';=:*:■? 
 $ & :*: :c ■:■*; :*: :*: :-*■' ft. ft. ft ft ft ft f 'ftftftftftft. 
 [.'#. - : & ■&'&. w./m '& &&.'&•'&■■'&' '$. ft. ft. ft ft. # $ : 
 :c :*: :*: •*•: .:*: :■*■: #-: . :*: .*: ft. :^->:c :* #■: & ft • & :* .*? ^. 
 ft. ft. >: ' *:. :*: # :-*: '-:■*: • :■*; :*: :■*; # :*: .:*: # ■:■*:- # #-'.;*?: 
 ^:^:^^;^^^ : ^^:^^^^ * * ;#■>; '*: .:■*■. * 
 . :*: # :■*; # * :■*■ :■*■: :*■: .*: :■*: ft .*: ¥ * :*; # # $ ■ # :, 
 ft ft ft ft ft. ft. ft ft ft. ft ft ft ft. ft. ft. -ft ft ft ft. -ft 
 
 ± + ft ft ft. ft ^^^^,^^4, $ * ■& 4> 4f #• 
 
 ft # ^ :*■: # ft :$■: # :*:• :*: #: -$ :-*: • #■: # ft. ft $ #■: ^ 
 * . >: :*; # # ■:-*■: # :*: ■ :■*: .# ft ft ft ft ft ft ft * *: : : 
 
 ■£ ' >K ^ # ft ft ft ft ft $ # # # ^ 'ft ft .ft ft 'M : 
 
 ft^ft ft. ft. ft ft. ft. ft. ft ft ft ft. ft. ft ft. ft ft, ft. 
 -ft. ft. ft. ft ft. ft ft ft. ft ft. ft. ft ft ft. ft ft. ft: ft ft -5 
 
 ft ft ft ft ft ft. ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft 'ft ft ft ft ft 
 
 •& . :*; »; . ;*; w. ft ft ft ft ft ft ft. ft ft 'ft ft' ft ft: ft /i 
 
 ft, ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft. ft ft. ft: 
 
 ft. ft. ft. ft ft ft. ft. ft. ft. ft. ft ft. ft ft- ft ft -ft ft. -ft. ' ; 
 
 W. ft. ft ft ft ft ft : ft ft ft ft ft ^ ft ft. ft ft. ft ft ft 
 
 ft. ft ft. ft ft ft ft ft ft ft. ft . ft. ft ft. ft. ft. ^ft: • 
 
 ft. ft ft. ft, ft. ft ft. ft ft. ft. ft ft. ft ft ft: ft. ft ft 
 
 ft ft ft ft, ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft. ft ft. ft * 
 'M'W. ft. ft. ft.- ft. -ft' ft. -ft ft. ft., ft ft ft. ft. ft ft ft. ft. ft. 
 
 ft. ft. ^ ft. ft. ft. ft. ft ft. ft ft. ft. ^_ ^ ^, ^ ft ^ ^ ^ 
 
 ft. ft. ft ft ft ft ft ft ft. ft ft. ft ft 'ft ft. ft ft ft ft ft 
 * # # + ^ ^ ± # + ■# ^ ^ ^ . 4JJ. # ± ^ fc ^ , 
 
 ft- -ft. ft ft ft. ft. &. ft * :¥ ft ft ft ft ft. ft ft ft ft ft 
 
 ft. ft. ft. ft- ft. ft. ft ft. .ft * ± ± ft. ft. ft. ft ft. ft ft 7 
 
 ft. ft. ft ft ft. ft ft ft. ft ft. ft ft ¥ 'ft. ft ft ft. ft ft. .ft 
 ; ft. ft ft. ft. ft. ft. ft. ft. ft ft ft ft ft ft. ft. . ft ft.- -ft. 
 
 ft ft ft ft. ft. ft. ft ft. ft: ft ft ft. ft ft. ft. ft ft. ft ft., ft 
 
 ft. ft ; ;■=*£■ ft ft * & ft ft ; ^ '--ft ft ft, ft. ft ft ft ft '¥.*'■'$ 
 
 ¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥¥''¥'>¥¥¥;¥¥¥ 
 
 ft. ft. ft. ft ft. ft. ft. ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft. ft ft :ft~y 
 
 *, ft. ft ft ft ft ^ * 4 4- -ft ft ft 'ft ft -ft : *■ ft ft .ft 
 
 ft ft. ft. ft. ft. ft ft. .4 ft ft ft 'ft' ft ft. ft ft. ft. ft. ft > 
 ft. ft. ft ft. ft, ft. ft. ft ft. ft. ft 'ft 'ft' "ft. ft ft ft ft. ft ft 
 
 ft -ft. ft. 'ft. -ft. 'ft. -ft. ft ft ft ft ft 'ft. ft- ft. ft- ft. 'ft 
 ft:ft - ft ft ft' ft ft W: ft : ft 'ft/ ft 'ft 'ft ft ft ft ft ft: ft 
 
 ft ft. ft. ft ft. ft. ft. ft. ft ft ft ft ft ft ft. ft ft ft- ft % 
 $: ft. ft. ft ft ft ft. ft. ft ft. ft. 'ft ft 'ft ft ft. 
 
 ft ft ft ft ft + ft ft ft .ft ft ft ft ft * ft ft. ft ft. 3 
 ft. ft ft ft ft. ft ft. ft. ft. ft ft 'ft ft' 'ft ft. ft 
 
 ft ft ft. ft. ft ft ft. ft ft ft ft ft ft ft 
 
 ft ■ ft /ft -4r' 4- ft . ft ' ft ft ± 4- ft ft p ft ft ft- ft ft ft 
 ft. ft. ft- ft.' ft ft -ft ft " $ ft. ft. 
 
 4 ft ft ft 4 4 -ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft -♦- 4- 
 
 ft ft. ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft. ft : 
 
 % ft ft ft ft. ft. ft ft ft' /ft ft 'ft 'ft-' 'ft ft ft: ft. 
 
 ft. ft. ft. ft. ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft 
 
 ft. ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft 
 
 ft. ft. ft. ft. ft - ft ft ft 
 
 ft. ft ft. ft. ft ft ft 'ft ft ■ -1 ft ft ft ft. ft 
 
 ft ft. ft. ft. ft ft ft 'ft ft. ft. ft :■■•-. 
 
 J ft ft ft ft ft ft ft] ft ft[ ft ft' ft ft ft. ft ftr ft ft. ft 
 
 ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft ft 
 
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 
 
 014 526 893 A # 
 
 ' ml 
 
 
 ill Pi .iilllSiS^ 
 
 JLEI-NT- L'd'YC 
 
 ' % Ma^