illl?* #" : lijji'ifi- ||||||i ri^ V ^ 5 2.qq Book •.S&aW.I PRESENTED BY / A - ivtV / / THE WANDERER AND OTHER POEMS, BY IOHN DOELIN SANDLAND. CHIEFLY WRITTEN DURING A RESIDENCE IN SOUTH AMERICA. " But why then publish ?— there are no rewards Of fame or profit when the -world grows weary; I ask in turn, — Why do you play at cards ? - Why drink? — Why read?— To make some hour less dreary, It occupies me to turn hack regards On what I've seen or ponder 'd sad or cheery ; And what I write I cast upon the stream, To swim or sink — I have at least my dream." Byron. LONDON: WHITTAEER 8c CO., AVE MARIA LANE. LIVERPOOL : CHARLES DAVIE S, NORTH JOHN STREET. MDCCCXLV. ?£*!$* ^ 3 3 LIVERPOOL HUGH GAWTHROP, PRINTER, NOBTH JOHN STREET. TO CHARLES DICKENS, ESQ., THE FOLLOWING POEMS ARE INSCRIBED, BY ONE WHO, A SINCERE ADMIRER OF HIS WRITINGS, TAKES THIS MEANS OF SHEWING HIS RESPECT FOR AN AUTHOR, THE INFLUENCE OF WHOSE GENIUS HAS ILLUMINED WITH A SMILE THE COUNTENANCES ROUND EVERY FIRESIDE IN BRITAIN, PKEEACE. From the Author having, in the solitude of his leisure hours, during a four years' residence in the Brazils, been forced to look round for something tending to the recre- ation of the mind, that otherwise might have become dull or indolent from lassitude, is to be found the source from whence has flown the production of the following Poems. Had he re-written or revised them, he might possibly have improved, but more probably destroyed what merit they may now possess; for he has ever judged it the better, to hold by the description of the first impression, while it was still fresh on the memory, though even the observance might be a little unsatisfactory ; for despite of all, it generally carries with it more of the truth of our thought. Who hath not remarked, after the viewing of some PREFACE. noble statue or painting, that those delicate and finely- turned curves and touches, that tell the power of the Great Master of the Art, and in the which truly exists its excellence, that upon endeavouring sometime after- wards to describe it, we find those slender threads to the knowledge of its beauty have faded from our me- mory ; and it remains floating there— all beauty, certainly — but the visionary beauty of the Sylph. Is a description to be obtained from this ? — No — we must be contented with our first glimpse of the Reality, before it blends itself into the Ideal. Blakeneijy Gloucestershire, August, 1845. CONTENTS, THE WANDERER. Page The Departure , , 13 The Last Glimpse 17 The Adieu , 18 The Calm 20 Lines on the Ocean 22 Night on the Ocean 25 To Night 26 Song — "The Home of my Heart was there" 28 Thoughts upon the Deep 30 A vision on the Ocean 34 The Yoyage continues and ends 36 The Affectionate Slave 41 Stanzas on Brazil 44 The Wanderer's Song . . . . 48 The Dream , 50 SKETCHES INVERSE. Sketch 1st. — The Misanthropist and the Dreamer. ... 61 2nd.— The Trial of the Steamer 71 3rd.— The Fallacy of Hope 78 4th.— The Fallen One 81 5th.— The Attack of the Pirate 84 6th.— The Opening of the Sixth Seal . '. 06 8 CONTENTS. DOMESTIC PIECES. Pao:b; To My Mother m jqO To a Lady, 102 To Our Mother 103 Lines written on the fly-leaf of " Roger's Italy" 105 Lines on Eternity k . . m 107 On the Death of a Valued Friend 109 Lines written in the House of Sickness 110 Hymn— "When Nations of this "World are ]ost" 111 Hymn—" Great God ! I own thy boundless," &c 112 Lines written on Easter Sunday 113 On Prayer 114 To a Lady 115 MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. Captain and the " Scarlet Ibis" 117 The Vision of Erebus 120 Fragment 124 Homer 125 Shakspere 125 Ode to the Departed 126 Fragment 127 Lines addressed to the officers of H.M.S. Growler 128 Satan's Harangue to the Powers of Hell 130 Lines written in Boyhood 131 Fragment ... 133 Confinement 134 CONTENTS. 9 SONGS. Page. The Land of Britannia 136 To fondly hope and think of thee 138 The Lover's most Eloquent Tongue 139 Answer to " The Spell is Broken" 140 Oh ! who can paint the hopelessness 141 The Vales of Beddgelert 142 Oh ! the loved moment first I saw 144 With me ! With me! 145 I have loved thee ! I have loved thee ! ........ 147 Woman ! War ! and Wine !— a Glee . . , . 149 My friends are around me in numbers entreating 151 When the Greek in his beauty sat robed, &c. . . 152 When early in life we are thrown on the world.. 154 The Dance of the Fairies 156 Oh ! the mind that is pent in a home stricken soul 157 Oh ! ye dwellers in Britain— that land of my birth 158 Song of the Brazilian Ganhadore 160 Where Guadalquiver's placid wave 162 The Crowning of Neptune 163 The Shetland Fisherman 164 Lines written during a vigil in the Chamber of the Dead.. 167 MONTBAR. Canto the First 171 SO CONTENTS. Page. Notes to The Wanderer , 193 to Sketches in Verse 203 to Domestic Pieces 204 to Miscellaneous Pieces 206 to Songs 212 to Montbar 217 THE WANDERER. "Where'er I roam, whatever realms to see, My heart iintravell'd fondly turns to thee." G-oldsmith. THE DEPAETUEE. Night rode high enthroned upon the zenith ; And the stars bedecked her dark blue garments, That spread their shadows o'er a sleeping world ; The waves forgot their murmurings, and slept Along with all mortality — in peace. Nature's voice was silent as the tomb, save When the winds, sighed at their own loneliness And impotence He stood upon the pier Rapt in his own sad thoughts ; — friends of his youth Were gathered round him—- but, he was alone : Within himself — there — all was bitterness — Yet the still silence of the noon of night Would shed a soothing spirit o'er his soul. He gazed upon the water's glittering calm, 14 THE WANDERER. The trembling of the star-lit mirror there ; But his eye saw it not — it saw, — nothing But visions of the home he left behind. Joys of his infancy were there, and scenes Of boyhood swept in review before him ; And fond and treasured recollections of A later date, crowded his mind's landscape; His home, shone trebled in each loveliness, Till his heart throbbed with the convulsions wild Of its own feelings Now on board — the ship Moved from her berth into the gut that led Unto the pathway of the heaving deep. There was a steamer at the pier, that lay Waiting their coming ; and puffing on high A thick dark canopy of smoke, that midst The calmness of the night would hover o'er Each vessel ; which, to his excited mind Moulded itself in wild fantastic shapes, That while they floated on the air away, Each breath that moved them shook their hugh gaunt forms THE WANDERER. 15 Waving their arms to warn him to return : And, they were obeyed — he did return — the Deep solemnity of the midnight hour Was to his strung feelings far too trying ; And the reprieve took from his heart a load That left it, to palpitate more freely. Home— he returned to thee ; and on the morrow, When the bright sun had risen high into The mid- day of his brightness— his warm rays Threw a glad halo o'er old Mersey's wave : Barks skimmed her tranquil surface, and on high Flags of a hundred nations streamed in air ; Ocean's young blooming daughter stood exposed Almost in regal majesty and power ; Thousands of vessels nestled in her lap, Forests of masts were penciled on her sky : — And like the eagle pluming for its flight, Numbers were seen to spread their canvass wings, Which soon, filled with the breeze, — that kissed, then bore Them o'er the silver surface of the deep 16 THE WANDERER. Exultingly to cleave the parting wave, And ride the crystal waters as their lord. Midst such a scene as this, parting became More bearable, and he pressed each friend's hand In silence — with a smile that spoke — if not Devoid of pain— ^at least, of bitterness. THE LAST GLIMPSE. ? T is night again, the third since he has left ; And Britain's isle has faded with the sun, Beneath the broad Atlantic's dark blue wave ; And when he turned his eyes, to gaze on that loved spot, Where its tall cliffs late melted from his view ; Sad, with the visioned thoughts of his lost home, He climbs the mast to see it yet once more : — He sees ! he sees ! — ah ! no — 'twas but a speck, A fleecy cloud on the horizon, that Skimming the bosom of the deep — is here — Now gone — he turns r the moon's pale light reflects Upon the waters far and near, and shows Nought but the blue of heaven and of sea, And they, far, far away commingle. The Thread that has bound him to his native shore. Has snapped asunder ; and he is alone — Upon the waste of waters. THE ADIEU. Adieu ! — Why weepest thou for me ? Farewell ! — that tear has hallowed thee ! Mourn not— we yet, again may be — Together. Farewell ! farewell ! — yes !— -look not now, 1 could not bear to see that brow, While hearts throb to the parting vow — Together. Yet, loved one — give not sorrow away — Adieu ! — — I cross the salt sea spray- Still, we may share a sunny ray- Together. Mind heedeth not the lapse of space, Affection pictures still thy face — Look ! — we will view the moon's slow gage — v ^Toge^her. THE WANDERER. 19 How mild — how calm — her influence there — How bright — how pure — how soft — how fair — List ! — heard you not we sighed in air ? — Together. Yes ! we may view the moonlit sky, And its bland influence glorify, And waft our thoughts to meet on high — Together. We'll meet again — the words have power 2 To arm the breast when tempests lower, To sooth hearts at the parting hour — Together. Yon cloud ! that floats in azure blue, Sweeps on the wind from me to you ; It bears my hope— to be anew— Together, THE CALM. *T is now, since his departure the tenth day, The favoring breeze has died into a calm ; The ocean's heaving billows cease to roll, And in the noon day heat have sobbed themselves To sleeps The ship, but lately bounding on Stately and noble, while each dark blue wave Bowed as her vassal, as she rode them o^er, Now, on the placid deep, lies motionless, Save the slight roll, when some stray zephyr comes, Kisses her sails, and bids a quick farewell ; — - Her broad white pinions for a moment swell, Then, 'gainst her towering masts, flap fretfully, As if, they sorrowed at their uselessness. THE WANDERER. 21 Part of the crew sit on her snow white deck, Silent at work, repairing the torn sails ; Others, — the lighter hands are high aloft, Lashing fresh tackle to her tapering masts, That shoot far upwards from the broad flush deck, Capp'd with the truck that wanders in the sky. The Captain, pacing to and fro, with brow Now overcast with thought, his walk oft stopt To turn and cast a long, long, anxious glance On all sides ; — but the calm seems bent upon A long continuance ; — as he turns away A sigh escapes him ; midst the general calm The Wanderer on her tafferel sits, and writes This, in his dreamings. LINES ON THE OCEAN. I. Days— weeks— almost a month has now flown by, The Wanderer still, is on thy heaving swell Old Ocean—still, a blue and cloudless sky Bends to thy cold embrace, seeming to quell With the soft magic of its heavenly spell, The bursting fury of thy water's roar ; Still he, pent in that creaking oaken cell, Sinks when you pant, will on your breathings soar, Till from your breast he's cast on South Columbia's shore. THE WANDERER. 23 II, Tis they ! who, sailing o'er thy pathless deep ; So sang the Psalmist — where the ocean lies, One moment hushed in quiet and in sleep, Next hurls its waves in thunder to the skies ; They — in the tempest, have before their eyes Exposed around— the works amazing — planned By the Almighty — while the winds arise, Fierce and tempestuous — roaring waves at hand, Harsh monitors — breeding thoughts of their distant land. in. Ocean ! old monarch ! — of thy self sole lord, Thy throne is on the centre of the earth ; Its base, deep bedded in its slime — thy ord, Unknown to mortals — when, with mighty birth, Startling the universe, thy swelling garth Spangled with kingdoms girdi'd round thy form, You rose from chaos — watering its dearth, Thy crystal billows tossing omniform, So move they now in calm — gale — hurricane or storm. 24 THE WANDERER. IV. Strange that in life what most we dread should have, Be the cause noble that creates it — power To animate the courage of the brave, Until they pant to cope with it ; — the hour When first you see the darkening tempests lower : Make your breasts swell with bursting thoughts, too great For utterance — -the foaming billows tower— You smile to see the ocean's waves dilate, And break in foam that moon and stars illuminate, NIGHT ON THE OCEAN. Tis night upon the ocean, and the sky, The clear deep blue that blesses Southern climes ; The stars shedding around their twinkling light, Like bright and peerless diamonds ; — fleecy clouds That float high on the bosom of the breeze, Skim o'er the sky's dark azure languidly, As if, they staid to revel with its joy, And join in its soft air of peacefulness : And the blue sea — parts its laughing waters Into a thousand wavelets — that on high Toss their bright crystal forms — and leave their crests As snow-drops for the wind to toy with — that Scatters them in sparkling spray — to dance In the bright moonbeams. TO NIGHT. I. Tis night, the sky's intensely blue, Bedecked with stars, of which a few Emit a steady light, Some but a twinkling lustre shed, Some gleam a moment — then are fled, Bright meteors, sun beams of the realms of night. ii. Deeming them rolling worlds, the man Breathes not on earth, whose mind can scan Their vast majestic course Without emotion — or not feel, O'er his tranced senses awe to steal, And the imagination tremble at their force. THE WANDERER. 27 III. Then come dark thoughts of other times, When Superstition o'er all climes Held her despotic sway ; And man would watch his destined star, Praying its glimmerings — to unbar The portaled future, with prophetic ray. IV. Roll on ye sparkling planets, roll ! As dotting space — from pole to pole, Your steady course ye bend ; Ages may pass — and ye the same Will frown on guilt — and cheer on fame — Till time's unflinching hand, will bring you to an end. SONG. "THE HOME OF MY HEART WAS THERE," Written on the Ocean, Five degrees North of the Line. I. The sun had set, and the short twilight, Of a southern clime fast faded ; While I watched the play of the meteors bright, In the sea the vessel shaded. And the wind that tossed the waves on high, Scattered each billow's crest in spray, That flashed in the fading and mellowed light, Like sheen of spears in the orb of day. But the ocean's scene — I heeded not, I turned from the Western glare, To the dark — dark North— that was ne'er forgot,- For the home of my heart was there. THE WANDERER. 29 II. The flying fish on their finny wing, Skimmed the ocean's dark blue deep ; And oft the porpoise, with a sudden spring, Shot past us with impetuous sweep. And the scudding ship as it cleft each wave, Would scatter it round in foam, And my moistened eye would survey the track, As it curled towards my distant home. — But the ocean's scene — I heeded not, I turned from the Western glare, To the dark — dark North that was ne'er forgot, For the home of my heart was there. THOUGHTS UPON THE DEEP; He is now far, far from land, floating on The mirror of creation's power — a shell Upon its waste of waters — a mere speck, Midst its vast immensity — to and fro Tossing upon its troubled crest — the sails Swelled by the trade winds, bend the creaking masts That quiver with the strain ; the bows heaving Proudly above the angry billows — that Dashing against them, in one sheet of foam, To rush on either side like falling snow ; And form one broad and bubbling track, that spreads Hissing amidst the boiling yest astern. He looks upon the noblest work of man, His long valued, treasured idol — the mute Obedient slave of his own creating ; The billows master — and the only form Wrought here by mortal hands that yet, has braved The vengeance of the tempest — meet object Of its wrath — the oaken thunderer — a ship. THE WANDERER. 31 He thinks of Britain — dear, loved Britain ! — and Her naval glory ; and his breast swells high As conscious of his country's power — and then In over- weening pride of heart, almost Looks upon the waves as fellow subjects. Peace ! mortal, peace ! yet, — even as he rides, Gay with the buoyancy of health and youth, Over thy yet, unknown, unfathomed depth, He checks his proud, presumptuous, soul to ask — Ocean what art thou ? — that face, covers what ? Yes ! in thy secret depth — deep — deep — below Thy dark blue wave, what hast thou hidden there ? Still, still, your ever restless billows roll, Over creation s treasury, of the wrecks Of ages — Nature at her birth beheld Thy infancy — that infancy — thy prime ; Yet, since then — age has swept past age — and still Thy hungry, avaricious grasp, has fed Thy countless monsters with the wealth of worlds ; Torn by thy waves from the strong vigorous hold Of proud mortality — himself cast far 32 THE WANDERER. From off thy bosom on the crimping sand Fit retribution for his soaring pride, To foam with madness — perish in despair ; His all — his high prized all — snatched from his handt By thee. — Behold ! a mighty armament, The boast of a proud, and great nation, waves Its pennants over thee — and spreads its sails, To plow thy billows to some distant land, And wreak its vengeance on a shrinking foe ; When lo ! as chaff you scatter them — and then, Yawns thy watery jaws, and all, even in The zenith of their might, they are engulphed — Sucked by thy whirlpools to unfathom'd depths, And stored amidst thy slime ; to lie— until The trumpet's blast shall wake the universe, And from thy monstrous and capacious womb, Call forth whole worlds of lost mortality ! Oh Britain ! self-styled, — "mistress of the sea ;" Thy sons are blind with vanity — thy Isle, Ah ! even it— torn from its base, and dropped THE WANDERER. 33 Into this ocean's centre — as it sank Below its surface, miles and miles, would leave No ripple from its vortex, that would reach The shores of Afric' or Columbia To murmer to the mortals on the beach A token of thy fate. And even while he gazes on thy dark, Unquestionable, ever moving world Of waters-— there is above him — a sky So bright — so clear — of such a fleecy blue, That banishing from his heated mind the thought Of the deep liquid vast below — he turns His gaze up to it — till his fancy deems That were a breath of air to reach so high, *T would part that thin and delicate drapery ; And then, that Heaven in all its dazzling, and Overpowering brilliancy of glory, Would be exposed before him. A VISION ON THE OCEAN. The delivery of the body of Napoleon to the French, at St. Helena. Is it a dream ? or waking phantasm, that Sweeps past my view in regal majesty ? I see a small, small island, on the deep, Rearing its tempest stricken head above The foam- clad billows of the ocean's swell. Fleets are around, but are not armed for war, Decked in the dark sad panoply of woe — Their streamers waving mournful to the blast That sighs funebrial cadences from land. The shore, the heights above, far, far as eye Can scan, up to their very summits clothed With human forms, in two long mournful lines. But who are they descending to the beach With slow and measured tread of sorrowing ? Bearing away a warrior from his rest, The long, last silent rest that ends mortality. THE WANDERER. 35 They near the beach — a range of boats are there Manned by a hundred proud hearts, bent with grief — The dead is given them — when rose — a shout, Soaring on high from boats, and ships, that seems Joined with the cannon's roar to rend, and break, Creation's frame-work with its echoings. They sweep from off the shore, and near the ships, And raising up the body, give to it Imperial honours even when in death. The sails are loosed, and filled by heaven's breath, The cannons thundering, peal on peal once more, Shaking the ponderous clouds that float on high : And then — away ! — the ocean's master glides In haughtiness of power upon its breast, Thousands are gazing on it as it swims, Fainter and fainter — in their view — until Sinking below the ocean's orb — 'tis gone, Over the Ocean's waves to bear the wreck Of him— whose power once found an emblem lu, That ocean's boundless majesty and might. THE VOYAGE CONTINUES AND ENDS, His bark is heaving over ocean's swell, Riding upon its bosom where its face Is smiling in its blue ; and the blue sky- Spans its clear surface in an arch as fair ; All, all, was one around him, heaven and sea, While the bright cloudless heaven bending down Upon the sea, in love and beauty, and, Like two fond sisters in their loveliness, Sealing their amity in one long kiss So soft — so fair — and yet with all so bright, So blended in each other, that you saw No mark whereby to know they separate ; When the proud ship that bore him cleft its way, And zephyrs slumbered in its canvass fields ; In silence through its countenance of glass, He looked into the ocean's crystal depths, And watched the swift flight of its finny tribes, THE WANDERER. 37 As scared, they fled the oaken monster, that Parted the waters o'er their dwelling place ; Perchance, the pinacle of some huge hill, Which disentombed, and reared on earth would form A nation's boundary, — and yet, he sailed Suspended o'er its summit by the brine, As will the Aeronaut, in his light car, Float o'er the Pyrennees, and high in air Glide o'er the fields of southern France. The glorious sun is blazing forth to ride His fiery chariot through a tropic day : When last he set — round and around were seen, But the light dancing wave and cloud-dressed sky ; And now, bright from his silv'ry bed of rest He mounts on high — when lo ! the joyous news Is passed from mouth to mouth— as their strained eyes Mark a faint line on the horizon's dip — While up the mast a nimble sailor springs, And all eyes follow him ; — a long — long pause — When hark ! shrill from the dizzy height, the cry Strikes on their ears below, of land ! of land ! — 38 THE WANDERER. And who shall paint the heart's proud throb on throb* As after battling with the tempest's power For weeks, and weeks, the sport of wind and wave ; Over that, which, but for its very depth Would shew a clear transparency — and man Would be- — when looking from his frail, frail bark, That bears him o'er it, awe struck with the sight Of the profundity of the abyss. And he has watched the fierce play of thy waves ; And rode upon thy bosom when thy face Was clouded with the darkening tempest's ire. The laboring bark that bore him, creaking forth Its harsh sharp moariings at the deadly strife, While thy gaunt billows hurled their foam -clad heads, Against its frame work, with the heavy shock That sounded, thundering through its hollow trunk ; The high masts creaking, bending as the reed : When the broad sails have freed their fettered wings To spread their snow white plumage, and afar To ride upon the bosom of the wind, And revel with the tempest midst the clouds. THE WANDERER. 39 It was the noon of a hot tropic day, That first he reached the shores of fair Brazil, And in the shade of some high battlements He turned unto the fretful water's swell, That came broad heaving from the open deep. Hid neath its bosom in its liquid breast Those ocean tigers, sword fish, and the shark, Were prowling for their prey — while on its face, Lit by the sun to one broad silver sheet, The long light casca took its arrow flight, Impelled by Afric's swarthy son, or by The lusty arm of the red Indian ; Climbing the crystal swellings of the sea, And lingering on their summits — while on high The brandished paddle joined the shrill wild whoop : Then all, descending swift are lost to view ; And, but the cry comes sweeping on the air — It is, as if the waves were tenantless ; — And then again it rises, swimming o'er The ocean's surface as the sea-gull wild. Onwards, and onwards, wave ascending wave, Seas rolled to shore in one unbroken mass, 40 THE WANDERER. And rushing 'gainst the battlements — to stop,— As the wild courser urged to some bold leap, But to collect his force, — and then away- High over all they rise, a moment hang Midway in air — and then, with one loud boom As of the cannon's roar — topple o'er and fall On the embattled piers with force, that shakes The solid stone work, quivering to its base. THE AFFECTIONATE SLAVE. 'Tis eve, the Wanderer, now in Brazil, And at a funeral — an infant child — A white man's child, lay cold, in that last sleep Our flesh is heir to, and the only boon That had its mind but had the power to beg From Nature that which she too freely gives, — It would have been, what it obtained— the gift Of immortality, — ere it yet knew The ills and the vicissitudes of life : — From out its open coffin, its sweet face Smiled through its covering of fragrant flowers, Its little hand shone through its ruflTd sleeve, And held — as it would toy with one in life — A tender rose bud — earth's sweetest emblem Of the child's frail — yet bright vitality. 42 THE WANDERER. Friends of the parents thronged around the grave, And all was silent, — save the whispering sound The wandering zephyrs made among the trees ; — At eve, — Nature's own Ave Maria. Such was the silence, save the silver' d tones That spake o'er all the parting words of prayer ; When as they lowered it in the grave, a cry, So shrill — so piercing — yet, with all, so sad — Rose on the breeze — startling its hearers, that, When the poor slave, that utter' d that heart's scream, Rushed in her grief, through intervening ranks, Frantic, and sobbing, to the grave and fell, Senseless beside the child she wept when dead : — He who then spake the parting words of prayer, Could not refrain his sympathy — his voice, Falter'd awhile in tone — and then, a tear Swam in his eye, and dropp'd upon the book He read from — a tribute to her constancy : — He was a Briton. When all was over, And earth had fed on beauty, and enclosed All the rich father's hope — and pride — and joy ; — THE WANDERER. 43 He turned to one, a native of the soil, Born — bred — inured — to laugh at slavery : — " Who was that slave that sorrowed o'ei the dead ?" " That woman, pooh ! who, but its nurse — she wept u To gain a master's praises by deceit." The Wanderer inquired no farther, but, Strode him apart O, Slavery ! Ah, what ! What hast thou not to answer for ? The mind Grows callous even to a heaven-born truth, Beneath the torpor of thine influence : That heart — yea, heart and soul ! will love as well, Though Providence should clothe the outward form In the poor Ethiopean's sable dye. STANZAS ON BEAZIL. I. 1 Tis now the noon of night, and each fond thought Is wandering far o'er this bright sunny land : Land of blue skies ! where budding Nature sought, To garb the shores thy flowing waves expand, With never dying verdure — with a hand Most bountiful — thy sweeping vales and hills, The sycamore and cocoa deck, a band, Joined with the mango s spreading form, that fills The bleeding heart with rapture scattering its ills, THE WANDERER. 45 II. Oh ! for the power to paint thy beauty's glow ! The brightness of the loveliness I see ! The magic of thy rippling waters flow ! The revelry of the thousand charms in thee, Thrown far in wild extravagance of glee : As if thou took'st a fond delight to view Thy treasures inexhaustible — the sea That swells around thee into ocean's blue, Gliding along thy shores thy mild embrace to sue. in. Fond child of Nature — smiling in thy youth, While half a world has grown into old age : As yet, Time hath not smote thee — but in ruth When he passed over thee, restrained his rage For other lands — where oft the darkened page Is sullied with his deeds — but thou — so fair ! Nature still keeps in her own hermitage : Land where Vanilla scents the Zephyr air, Creation's first — fresh infancy, still lingers there. 46 THE WANDERER. IV. Ah, child of Nature ! — yes ! in every part ; In the wild beauty of thy youthful grace, And in the unchecked passions of the heart, That sweep impetuous o'er thy changing face, Swift as a summer cloud its airy race, By the winds borne across thy deep blue sky ; — Yet who from thy wild youth shall say disgrace Will grow upon thine age — and yet — the sigh Of doubt falls on thy future fate— we scarce know why. v. There is a city on the western wave ; The bright star of the heaving tropic seas : The Amazonian gem whose waters lave The cocoa on the beach, and giant trees, Whose branches waved before the great flood's breeze Swept nations from their first — to second life : A city o'er whose wreck the heart of man may grieve — All eastern in magnificence — till rife The red Indian came down — with ruin — rapine — strife. THE WANDERER* 47 VI. There is a time when Hope may lingering fade, When joy's pure fountain ebbs to flow no more ; When the mind's mirror shows the soul in shade, When happiness is stranded on the shore, Of the tame world's forgetfulness — to soar No longer over this life's troubled sea ; Then Friendship's heart its flowing tide may pour Of gratitude to those whose hearts beat free With never ending kindness— what a debt's on me ! VII. Tis vain— 'tis useless — words have not the power, To pay a debt of gratitude — away The thought ! the debt remains to the last hour That man may linger on life's trackless way : No !— gratitude alone to things of clay Can never know redemption — it remains To soothe remembrance to its latest day, Shedding a halo over the heart s gains, And hallowing its joys, and lessening its pains. THE WANDERER'S SONG. The dark heaving waves of the tropics are round, The stars in the sky are all foreign to me ; The winds bend the palms with a rustling sound — Strange voices ! that whisper — I'm distant from thee. ii. The mango and cocoa I meet when I rove, The " Kiss-flower" hums its soft music in glee ; And musing I stand 'neath the wild orange grove ; My thoughts they will wander — far distant to thee. THE WANDERER. 49 III. Do I watch the bright waves kiss each sunny ray, Or skim my light casca o'er river and sea ; My heart throbs in silence, and joy speeds away, For my soul drinks no pleasure, when distant from thee. IV. Vain boast to be praising the beauties I see, In the matchless play of their revelry ; I heed not the glories you view not with me — For entrancement is dead — now I'm distant from thee. THE DREAM. His mind had waved its magic wand, and forth A thousand beauties crowded it in sleep ; — First came a mass of scenes of hill and^ale, One past the other in confusion wild, Some gliding slowly — others fading fast, — Until at last the whole, seemed stayed, and formed Into a scene, that was in all complete : A ruined tower embattled on a hill That hung above a glen, down which there swept — Leaping from rock to rock, in snow white spray — A roaring cataract : — The stream below Murmured unseen amidst the trees and shrubs ; Their foliage sparkling, with the crystal spray That hung in pearl drops from the pendant leaves ; There was a female figure on the height, She waved her hand — when all grew faint and dim, And faded swift away, ere he had time To mark her features THE WANDERER. 51 Now, another blank On chaos of confusing scenes passed by ; That gradually grew to shape and form. — Hark ! he hears the whispering breeze Shaking the silver' d leaves of the tropic trees ; Hark ! 'tis the sound of the water flowing, From fonts below where the palm is growing ; Hush ! — a fairy shape I see 'neath the shade reclining, Such as our fancy pictures when to love inclining, — No damask rose blooms on that cheek so fair, The lily's purity seems centered there — A graceful arm supports more graceful head, She sleeps — upon a wavering flowery bed, A smile stole o'er her mouth in sleep, who could resist it ? He stopt — stooped down — and gently kissed it; — A coldness shot upon his heart — a chill from ecstasy, He heard a scream — but nothing could he see ; Till darkness grew to light, and all was clear, And he gained feeling, motion, from the shock of fear ; He looked around — above — below — for her And felt — from his heart's coldness — she was " Air" — He trembled at the thought his touch had been, On one, — earth owned not — and that he had seen, 52 THE WANDERER. An airy vision of the realms of sky, Visiting earth ; — he dared not question why ? And now, the sickness stole upon his soul, Engulphing motion, speech, sight, thought, the whole- Paralised, as struck by an unseen hand, For trespassing the bounds of Fairy land : — He strove in vain to walk — 'to move — to speak — Each limb refused — each instant grew more weak ; He was entranced by an all-powerful spell, Earth swam around him — reason fled — he fell ; — How long he lay — he knew not — for all seemed The phantasm of death — that now he dreamed. When power of sense returned, he thought he lay Upon the grassy pillow of a fair garden ; Plants of Britain's clime were clustering o'er him, Shedding their fragrance to the sighing breeze, That, burdened with the bounty, bore it off With joy ; the balmy air restored him, and Rising, he wandered through this paradise, This earthly Eden — till he thought he came, To where the walk grew broader, and day seemed THE WANDERER. 53 To seize the boon to revel in the space ; There was a terrace rose before him, with A few light steps ascending from it to A garden, still more beautiful than that He stood in, while the wild luxuriance of The plants were checked with care — and round the whole, A noble amphitheatre of trees ; Through which there shone half budding on his view, Part of a fair temple with its statues ; — And from its base a mossy lawn swept down, To where a group of Tritons rode their steeds, Plunging and swimming in their element, The limpid waters ; round a font that rose Graceful in air, amidst a crystal bower Of silver jets, blown by the laughing gods High o'er the whole, a glittering gauge of spray, Through which the half seen outline of the font Shone here and there. Ambrossial plants and flowers Checkered the verdant landscape with their tints, And painted the seclusion with a charm, Making the whole a fairy dwelling place. 54 THE WANDERER. He stood long gazing on it with an eye Of admiration, when behold ! — he saw Through a slight break in the thick foliage, The waters of the ocean —and there rode A ship upon its surface towards him — near And nearer still, she came to land, a boat Left her, cutting the clear wave, and ran Half its light length upon the grating sand ; A form, that seemed familiar, leapt on shore, And passing by the fountain stopt, — and looked Round carefully; — and then, as if assured, Approached nearer and nearer, then again Stopt, and then, as if the object of his search Was visible, he came, and swiftly passed The entrance to this Eden — stopt, and shook, The crimson folds of some loose drapery, That hanging from the branches of a tree, Swept to the flowery ground, and formed a tent. A dullness stole upon the Dreamer's heart, As, startled at the sight, he asked himself fC From whence that tent ? How saw I not before " A thing so visible to my senses now ? THE WANDERER. 55 " Is it that he who bears a face that I " Have seen before, yet lack the power to name ! " Who is he ! who ? — ah ! — comes he here to draw " The curtain from the enclosed shrine of Time, " Letting mine eye glance on futurity." But all was stayed by what took place — a form, A female form, glides from the shadow of The drapery, robed in white, in her hand A book, which she was closing as she stepped To meet the stranger — who advanced and gave Into her hand a " Chaplet and a Book." She must have known him, too, for greeting him, She gave him thanks in words, and with a look That spoke of previous intimacy. Soon She turned — he saw her face — u Great God ! 'tis she !" He strove to catch the purport of her words, But failed, a whisper only reaching him ; And yet, even while she spoke — the stranger Bade her adieu ! and hurried to the boat ; And while his eyes and hers followed those steps To reach it, and push off — and gliding fast 56 THE WANDERER. Over the dark blue waters — reach his ship, He strove in vain to move — or even speak To say that he was near her. While the ship Steered from the land, they stood there without power, It seemed, for one to tell the other, that He was not as far distant as she thought.' ' She turned from gazing at the ship, and sat Her down upon the drapery of the tent, And placing by her side the book that late She had been reading — took the gifts and gazed Upon them, twisting oft the flowers, to form The chaplet to her liking ; — while engaged, The smile that hovered round her lips, forsook Its resting place — a sigh escaped her — as She twisting snapt a flower from off its stem ; And as she held it, and she bent to look More closely — he felt sure — he saw a tear Swim in her eye — and fall — and glitter on Its leaves ; she sighed again — then placed it in Her hair ; and opening the other gift, The book, turning the leaves o'er one — by one — THE WANDERER. 57 The wandered smile returned and graced the lips That looked in sadness, when they wanted it. She looked up — their eyes met — she saw him not, She looked as if on vacancy — was he, Then vacancy to her ? — he strove to speak, But failed again — to move, — and gained the power, And reeling, giddy, tottered up the steps, He bent to see the book. — " Thank God !" he cried — All — all — faded, his voice had broke the charm, And he awoke, but not before he knew, The book she read, that raised that smile of joy, That lighted up that countenance with day, Was one that had come far from o'er the sea, The gift, — the Wanderer's offering to her. SKETCHES IN VERSE. " ' __ THE MISANTHROPIST AND THE DREAMER. SKETCH THE FIRST. SCENE : Interior of a palace, with windows opening upon balconies, that command the moonlight view of the city. Enter ORONTE, who walking to an open window, stops— and gazes upon the sleeping city Hail thou fair city ! — did mine eyes grow dim, And fail to recognise these palaces ; My heart would whisper I am here once more, The balm of passing breeze is still the same, Still, burdened with the fragrance of the grove : — Hail fair city ! 62 SKETCHES IN VERSE. Would I returned to thee, Light in my heart with gaiety and joy, As in the hour when first I entered thee, Time passing quick with banquet and with ball, And all with Dores, too — I hear he's changed, And so am I — and both, by the same means Which on our hearts has acted differently, Yet brought on both the same sad misery, But mine a misery, grown into a joy, An echo to my feelings and my heart, A foretaste of celestial hopes, with just The tinge of earth that taints mortality, And all has risen out of what at first Bowed down my head in heart's sad sorrowing. But now the darkened mists of night have passed, An Angel she shall dwell within the sphere Of my mind's world of idealism— that, Devoid of all shall paint her of the earth, Will leave her as she is a shape of heaven. Oh, Heaven ! when I look up to thee — thy power Seems trebled since thou boldest now the soul That was, and is, an all in all to me : SKETCHES IN VERSE. 63 If to thy starry height of ether space The spirit of this frail mortality Should fail to soar — and be cast far from her ; It would — great God ! be wretchedness and woe Unutterable — the misery of Eternity upon Eternity. O Earth ! I plead to thee — restore thy prize, That like the diamond glittering in thy womb, Hath given thee a value — yield her up, And we will plead to Heaven for her soul, And I will make her Queen of thee, O Earth, And give her glory unto thee — to be An offering. Dores — (entering), — Oronte ! Oronte. — Dores ! Dores. — Friend ! Welcome once more, Oronte, 'twas but known To me this instant — thou wert back, and I Have come much quicker than am wont of late To greet a friendship — and thou must accept Of what poor services lie in my power. 64 SKETCHES IN VERSE. Oronte. — Thanks, my good Dores. Dores. — And thou must cast off That heaviness of heart ; a troubled sea Will muddy all the waters, and thy mind, With same commotion of the heart will tend To wretchedness ; heed not the passing world But come, and we will be the friends we were When first I tempted thee — to leave with me Our native hills, and visit this fair city. Oronte. — Would I had never left those mountain wilds* But lived in my fair castle, there — contented, Unknowing and unknown to all the world, I would have thus escaped my misery. Dores. — Misery, Oronte ! it cannot be, I took it for the flight of some dark cloud, That cast a momentary shade upon Thy mind, and then left it more clear and bright ; And yet, now I remind me — I did hear Some whisperings — when you left so hurriedly, I judged thy heart'/asl would judge mine own, And so believed them not — and let them die SKETCHES IN VERSE. 65 The common death of any tattleings — still Deeming thee higher, than to err so far As love a woman — or, if to love one, To let that trouble you — out on the sex ! I loath — despise them — as I do the ills This world is full of, all brought on by them, They wind themselves around the heart of man, As the wild creeper in the tropic woods Around the mango, choaking it to death. Oronte. — If it be dead — doth it then fall ? Dores. — Why, no ; — But that will only show the hatred more They glory in the deed, and hold it up, To show their victim to the world at large. Oronte. — Say rather, when the heart is bent with ills Of this world, man, and his fair essence too, And not man alone — but both are heir to : Say rather, when these ills have dried the sap Of all the hopes — joys— pleasures of this life, That woman, like the creeper, binds herself Around his heart, giving up all her strength 66 SKETCHES IN VERSE. To brace it, that it battle 'gainst the storm. Dores. — Thou hast not much improved by travel, then, My good Oronte, if thou hast not learned To argue deeper on the woman-kind, That seem to have enthralled thee in their net : Thou wilt pass poor muster in the world of men, And by the women, patronized but for Thine own simplicity in trusting them. Oronte. — Thotuknowest not a woman. Doves. — Most truly Do I agree with thee — she is in all The riddle of the world ! with which mankind Strangely are vexed at not unravelling. Why seek they to discover, what has been Since the creation of the world a task Ever rapt up in its own mystery ? How often do we find that man will Hx His hopes — his happiness — upon a face Breathing without a soul, blind to her faults, And trusting — he scorns to dream of frailties ; When chance exposes to his view some speck SKETCHES IN VERSE. 67 In the fair mirror of her character ; A nothing in itself — but when he finds That which he deemed immaculate to err, Though but a shade — his roused attention wakes To energy, and observes each trifle, Till, one by one, her blemishes are seen, He reads her truly ; on the current flows, Sweeping before it all her loveliness — And her vain mind stands naked before him ; The borrowed charms she gained from 'beauty, lie Like verdure on the calmed volcano's front ; We trust not the fair surface, but we pierce With our mind's eye, and shudder at the sight Of the dark — hollow — barrenness within : — And such is woman — Etna's heat and flame ; — Her heart, the type of its own hollowness — Wrapt in as much obscurity — with just The wild emotions of its passions there To startle men — and teach them how the soul Is working in its den of bitterness. Oronte. — 'Tis vain and useless ; — such a thought as that 68 SKETCHES IN VERSE. Leads to no good — brings on more wretchedness : — 'Tis from the vanity of thine own soul ! Dores. — That trusts its knowledge more than does thine own. Speak ! thou hast trusted woman — loved her — And you, — I speak it not as flattery — Are far more worthy of a woman's love Than thousands who will daily court and win her ; — Speak ! what hath it brought to thee ? Oronte. — Wretchedness ! Dores. — Yes, wretchedness ! and thou wilt praise her still ! If ill is brought on man — he not deserving it — That ill — hurled by a hand omnipotent, Or, by the buffets of mortality, The creatures of that same omnipotent : — Why not, with all the power of his own soul That is immortal, hurl his scorn on it; If man had boldness, he might grasp on more Than he well knew of, seize upon a power SKETCHES IN VERSE. 69 Oronte. — Truce to thy sophistry — it moves me not, 'Tis almost blasphemy, but is in vain ; There is a charm in this created world That moves in secret, regulates the heart, That gives to it the guidance of its mind, The ordering of its actions. — Woman's love ! Years have now flown — I've crossed earth's central line, And battl'd with earth's storms to shake it off : — But all in vain, it lingers with me now That I've returned unto the place she dwelt in ; She is floating in my memory, still — as fair And heavenly a creature as poor man Can here be blessed with all — her features still Are pictured in each profile in my mind ; But ever — ever — strangely different : — Here, in the gaiety of each laughing hour, And then, all softened by sweet pity's tear, She shines the rainbow of my fallen hopes. But above all, her melody in song, That soothed you with a balmy spirit, as Houri will charm with notes in Turkish heaven— Or Seraphim entrance by song above : — 70 SKETCHES IN VERSE. And even yet, when night and nature's still, My busy fancy at the zephyrs sigh Oft starts at tones that sylable her voice ; As if, as guardian angel of my fate, She whispered to my soul remembrance yet : She has been the spirit in my wanderings, That gave me strength to bear its evils, and Forbearance when I met with fooleries ; Courage to battle with the wrath of man, And in the hour of glory and success, Mellowed my pride. THE TRIAL OF THE 8TEAMEE. SKETCH THE SECOND. I. A fine September eve, when off we started, The Ocean steamer for her watery tour ; Gave our friends' hands the hearty shake and parted, Mounted her high spar deck, as with the power Of the revolving engines swift she darted, Scattering the spray around her in a shower Of snowy drapery, as the silv'ry water In swimmings parted by some sea-gods daughter 72 SKETCHES IN VERSE, II. We shot from side the pier in bright array, Cleaving the glassy waters of the deep, The slender rigging dancing in each ray Of the departing sun — while on we sweep, Impelled by powers the ocean-waves obey, The swiftest sail-boat seeming but to creep ; As like a meteor skims across the sky, Our breathing vessel — panting — passed them by. in. The world has few such sights as glad the eye, As onward over Mersey's waves you bound, On one side giant piers are raised on high, As bulwarks 'gainst the wrath it hurls around, And far above clear pencilTd 'gainst the sky, Are masts of craft from every nation found, With their broad ensigns floating in the air — - Creation's commerce seems to centre there. IV. Now from huge works of man we turn to see The villa' d heights that swell from off its shore, SKETCHES IN VERSE. To fall in undulations to the Dee : And far beyond, as far as sight may soar, Moel Famma's column'd head towers bold and free : While by the rock, braving the tempest roar, And the wild fury of the foam- clad storm ; The sailor's sun of night revolves its form. But scarce a century since, when all we see, Slept in deep silence — save the ocean's roar ; The laughing waves swept from the open sea, To dance in ripples on the pebbled share. And rose from off the beach the fisher's glee, As the small craft obtained from scanty store He labouring trims, to reach Hibernia's land, A soil — by him — deemed foreign to this strand. VI Time's changing hand has waved his wand o'er all, A city springs to birth — a rival Tyre In power exceeding that which rose to fall : Commerce has breathed her magic fire 74 SKETCHES IN VERSE. In active minds, that answered to her call — A Port exists — and freedom's fields retire, While vast embankments, pyramids of stone Possess that shore — the waters deemed their own. '- vn - Thousands of vessels burden now her wave, Bearing the riches of a teeming earth, From furthest bounds that ocean's waters lave, From land that owns the Ethiopian's birth, From Java's island — European's grave, From the rich East — from where the desert's dearth Bids but the camel live, — and from the West The world's fair treasures flow at her behest, VIII. Night gently stole upon the passing scene, While Cheshire's sand-hills faded from our view, And high in heaven's sparkling arch was seen The pale moon swimming through ethereal blue, While the smooth water with a glittering sheen, Threw back the likeness, softened, yet so true ; SKETCHES IN VERSE. /O And ever and anon some fleecy cloud Darkened the whole as with a phantom's shroud. IX. How the soul swells within us while we pace The smooth white planks which form a steamer's deck, While the proud vessel struggles in the race, And laughs to scorn the coming waves to check; — ■ With what an eye of pride we view the grace With which she rides them o'er, and seems to take A mad delight in dashing far each wave, And making ocean its own children's grave. x. Slowly from out the horizon's dim outline, Their towering heads the mighty clouds upreared, One long mountainous and unbroken line, And from the dark and lurid mass appeared A vivid messenger o'er the whole to shine, That scattered on the waves the rock it seared ; A breathless pause — when echoing thunders shake Earth to its base — the slumbering waters wake. 76 SKETCHES IN VERSE. XI. And high the wind rose sweeping towards the land, Bearing our craft before it, as a reed Is swept by foaming breakers to the strand; It seemed as if the winds and w r aves agreed To point their vengeance with a ready hand, Against our crew — who, like the salt sea weed That clingeth for protection to the rock, Held by the shrouds amidst each surging shock. XII. As the wild bull checked in his mad career, By the keen dart that quivers in his side, Reels for a moment with a shock of fear, Then fiercely roused, his red eyes glaring wide, Foaming he rushes, where his foes appear ; And goad to madness by his smarting hide, 'Gainst their poized spears his thundering wrath he turns, And gains his safety o'er the corpse he spurns. SKETCHES IN VERSE. 11 XIII. So turned, when the first sudden shock was o'er, Our labouring vessel gainst the threatening waves, And left behind the tempest beaten shore, Where we had pictured in despair our graves : While 'gainst her bows the howling billows roar, Enraged to loose the trembling prey she saves, Climbing the watery mountains, wrapt in foam, She rides majestic o'er her ocean home. THE FALLACY OF HOPE. SKETCH THE THIRD. I 've lived amidst the world's commotion, Tossed on the waves of pleasure's ocean, Drained the cup of dissipation Brimming full by man's creation, Strained my mind for new productions, To give to fresh joys introductions ; And racked the fancy of my brain To gild anew palled pleasure's chain ; Have sleepless lain the long, long night, In vain for sweet contentment's sight ; Far ! far ! my answering conscience cries, Her presence from the city flies. SKETCHES IN VERSE. * Where music's sweet melodious sound Echoing shrills the grotto round, Where the light tread of fairy feet, Bound to the measure swift and fleet, Where the tall columns towering high Support a pearl bespangled sky ; Where the clear crystal water flows, Through cavern' d mouth the pale moon glows, Where all that's soft and delicate, And every favour shed by fate, Join in harmony wild and free That forms a scene that's worthy thee ; 'T is here contentment rests her form, Sheltered from the wild world's storm. The wirl of buzzing pleasure — and the roar Of dissipation sweeps unheeded by ; Joy's gladdening sails have borne my bark to shore, A wreck, — o'er which each fond hope stays to sigh Ah ! vain and fleeting are the earthly joys We put our trust in — tinged with the alloys Of this false world, they bring 80 SKETCHES IN VERSE. No calm felicity— 'tis all a dream, To seek for happiness, in the gay stream That flies us swiftly by, and flying leaves its sting. Ye who to fancy's whisper's list, And Hope's wild phantoms chase through mist ; Who when you 're old expect to find, Those visions sought by youthful mind ; Far from imagination cast Such fallacies, which never last, Go calmly on with inward force, And take all ills as things of course : For know that happiness has been A thing oft talked off never seen ; For when you think this ignis-fatuus won, It glides a-head and gives a farther run. LINES SUGGESTED BY A PICTURE "THE FALLEN ONE.'' SKETCH THE FOURTH. I. I love all women ! when they are not shy Or prudish, when you praise each pretty face, Or the wild sparkle of a dark blue eye, Or with chaste fingers raise the veil of lace That hides their beauty, and they '11 not cry — fie ! But smile to shew the lovely air and grace, With which from eye so luscious— soft and fine, She glittering sheds its lustre into mine. 'T is of the heart a wild complaint that rises, Out of a crude and most intolerant longing ; 82 SKETCHES IN VERSE, After a something, that it ever prizes, Yet never gains for ever fear of wronging ; It fastens on most people — of all sizes, For years 'neath thirty it is seen most thronging ; Yet still — -I must be candid — I have known Old hearts of sixty by this love o'erthrown. in. How often " sweet one" have I said that I No more would rest me on that bosom fair, No more would kiss those ruby lips that sigh Their soft sweet welcome when I trespass there ; How oft in vain the thought of thee to fly, Yet found myself in thy bewitching snare : — O man ! thy best resolves will melt in air When woman's lips and eyes are centered there. IV. Behold her ! once the fairest of the fair, Still decked in all her glittering array ; On drooping head, and hands, and that small pair Of slender feet — that sped the dance away, SKETCHES IN VERSE. 83 So lately midst the lustre and the glare, Of ball room gaiety — the orb of day Dawns slowly — shews no charm of beauty there, Glares on her eyes, and pictures there despair. v. Oh ! who shall paint as vivid, or as true The dark regrets that flash across the brain, When for the first time — traced before our view Lies the expounding of a thoughtless train, Of wild forgetfulness we vainly rue ; And see no opening by the which to gain, Our lost control upon the thoughts that roll And hotly burn and harrow up the soul. THE ATTACK OF THE PIEATE. SKETCH THE FIFTH, I. The vault of heaven was shadowed o'er, With the dark clouds of night ; And o'er the waves the light bark sped, And wing'd her watery fight. Her cannons frown* d from out each port, Her broad flush deck was clear ; And round each mast in order shone, The cutlass — gun — and spear. SKETCHES IN VERSE. S5 II. Boxes of round, of canister, and grape, Were ranged each cannon round ; And thickly studded heavy shot The hatchways' combings bound. And fiercely grinning at the fore, 'Midst rammers — spunges — lay, A long Tom on his pivot throne, All ready for affray. in. Her raking masts sprung from her deck, Bound by her jielding shrouds ; And tapered upwards till the truck Was lost amidst the clouds. Her snow-white canvass swelled on high, Straining her ponderous boom ; That loomed a phantom of the night Seen through the thickening gloom. IV. Her bows heaved proudly o'er the waves Breasting the ocean's spray ; 86 SKETCHES IN VERSE. And far astern the glittering wake Gleamed as the light of day. And at his post, each sleepless watch Seemed but some dark, still speck : While paced in silence, wrapt in thought, The Pirate-chief the deck. v. And on the vessel bounded^ till A streak of pale moon-light, Burst through the over-hanging clouds, And gilds the waters bright. And there against the back-ground bright A small — small — speck appears, To rise and fall on ocean's swell, The Pirate craft she nears. VI. All sail was set, each carronade Cast loose upon the deck ; Round on his pivot turned long Tom Whose echoing voice breathed — wreck. SKETCHES IN VERSE. 37 And swiftly o'er the billow'd deep The bounding vessel flew, And nearer, nearer, till distinct, A vessel hove in view. VII. Soon as this vessel saw her foe, Hard-up her helm she turned, And stood towards her, while her bows The roaring waters spurned. And as they cross'd each other's tack Rung the commander's hail, " Ho ! brigantine ahoy !"— " Ah ! ah !' Was answered 'midst the gale. VIII. « We're in distress," the captain cried, The wild winds bore the sound ; " From India's sultry clime long sailed, " To St. Helena bound. " For days and days we've looked in vain, " Nor seen a sail afloat ; 88 SKETCHES IN VERSE. " Spare what you can !" the rattling ropes. Told that he lower' d a boat. IX. Now mate, brave man, if still a boat Can live in such a sea, Haste thou on board, for sake of all, But go — or stay — you're free. The night was dark, the waves on high. Tossed by the wild storms play ; And howling winds that swept the sky Bore masses of clouds away, x. Firm on that deck the seaman stood, And saw each foaming wave ; That dash'd its anger round in foam, That yawn'd one fearful grave. 'Twas but an instant that he stood, Brac'd were his nerves to fate ; The boat received him, while the crew Cheered the undaunted mate. SKETCHES IN VERSE. 89 XI. And 'midst the darkness tossed on high, Sport to the tempest's ire ; Their track to each ship, known but by The spray they dash in lire. O'er wave and wave they near the craft And ride upon the swell, They hail — the whistling winds reply, But with a mournful knell. XII. s< Crouch down there, boarders," low the tone In which the Pirate spoke, As the approaching sound of oars The dreadful silence broke. At every dip the sparkling sea Shone in a silvery ray, Heard was the bold mate's lusty cry, " Give way, my lads ! give way ! " XIII. The murky darkness hung o'er all, On came the doom'd boat's crew ; 90 SKETCHES IN VERSE* But ere the fiendish deed was done, The moon broke clear to view : And from the dizzy topmast-head The vessel's look-out cried, " Back boat, there" — treachery a-head," " That craft a Pirate hides." XIV. Swift at that cry the bold mate turned, The boat twirled sharply round, And fast propelled by oar and wind, O'er the tall waves they bound. Fierce as the wolf pursues his prey, On came the pirate-craft, The breeze her outstretch' d pinions swell, Her blood-red pennants waft. xv. " Give way, my lads," the captain cries, ' ' You near our vessel, now ; " Pull for your lives — one minute more " You're safe behind our bow. SKETCHES IN VERSE. 91 " Round with the old ship, helmsman, swift — " Point all the cannon high, " To clear our friends within the boat ; " Now ! let the broadside fly." XVI. Boom ! went the cannon's thundering roar, The deadly grape-shot sped ; Crash ! through the bulwarks tore their way — ■ A host are with the dead. Down came the Pirate's tall fore-top, His long jib trailed the wave — But all in vain that bloody shower, It came, but not to save. XVII. " Too late — too late — oh, God ! that cry ! '' That death- shriek of the brave ; The blood-stained waters dash around The Pirate- schooner lave. Between the two approaching ships The flying boat was crushed, And o'er each vessel's clear white ports A blood-red streamlet gushed. 92 SKETCHES IN VERSE. VIII. t The choaking moan — the bubbling shriek, Rose from the troubled wave, And rising shrill upon the blast, Soared o'er their watery grave. And even ere the sound had ceased, The souls that gave it birth ; Had burst their mortal tenements, Had left their mother earth. XIX. The crew in silent horror stand, While Pity mourn'd their fate, The captain, awe- struck, mournful wept, And sorrowed o'er his mate. 'Twas but an instant — firm he rose, Dark flashed his kindled eye, " Away with useless pity now, " Boarders, to arms," his cry. xx. As raging tigers bursting forth, As fiends let loose from hell, SKETCHES IN VERSE. 93 The pirates swarmed the cruisers deck Bound by no pity's spell : — The bright swords clash — the cannons roar — The flashing pistols glare, — The stricken shriek — the victor's yell — War's fearful tumult's there. xxi. The pirate chief amidst the blood, And turmoil of the strife ; Seems now as if but first he breathed The essence of his life. Whose voice above the conflict s din Sounds forth his swift command ; Whose gleaming sabre dark with gore, Sweeps with a vengeful hand. XXII. Twice rushed he frantic in his rage, Along the vessel's deck ; The bullets sped — the sabres flashed — But all in vain to check. 94 SKETCHES IN VERSE. He swept invulnerable by, Who dared to face him fell, Through boarding-pikes he tore his way And made that deck a hell. XXIII. In vain to stay the torrent's power, Strewed is the deck with slain, In vain 'gainst such o'erwhelming force, The conflict to maintain. Borne down by numbers — slaves — or dead — The crew lie stretched around, When rose the pirate's deafening shout Of victory's hateful sound. XXIV. There lay the crew that oft had bled In honourable strife, Stretch'd panting on the blood-stained deck, Slaves to the Pirate's knife : And there lay one whose step but late, Had paced that deck in joy, And by his side in Death' s cold grasp, His brave heroic boy. SKETCHES IN VERSE, 95 XXV. And though the old man's hair was grey? And this his only child ; He wiped the tear-drops from his eye, And kissed his boy — and smiled. " Would I were thee," he softly said, And closed the fading eye, " Proud, proud am I to loose thee thus, " Than thou a slave to die ! " XXVI. But there was one whose eye of pride Flashed as the lightning's fire ; As by his side he viewed in chains, His captain and his sire. And there lay bound in strength of youth, Beside a heap of dead : Those who for life, and freedom fought — - Till fickle victory fled. THE OPENING OF THE SIXTH SEAL. SKETCH THE SIXTH. Behold the Lamb stretched forth his hand, and broke The sixth seal of the Lord Jehovah's book : And lo ! a sound, as if the mighty earth Had from its base been torn, raised high and dashe Into a million fragments ; and was seen, The surface of creation tossed and heaved As by an earthquake's hand — the glorious sun, Hung dark and black as a tempestuous sky Amidst the shrivelled firmament of heaven : SKETCHES IN VERSE. 97 Blood red, the moon in the celestial vault Glared frowningly. The stars lost their high thrones. Past systems winged their fiery flight, and blazed Their way to earth. As a tumultuous sea Rocks, cities, mountains, wavered to and fro ; The lightnings spread their devastations round, Hurling the hugest mountains prostrate at The shock. The parched heavens rolled together as A scroll will shrivel up and crimp when burnt. The monarchs of the world, their mighty men, Warriors, and statesmen, freedmen, bondsmen, all Were clustered in confusion : mute they lay, Awe struck and trembling at the wrath of God ; — Forgot is all their pride — their power — their wealth ; The sovereign crouches in the dust to pray, Nor heeds his crown that, fallen from his brow, Lies useless, worthless, at this bondsman's feet : — The frantic slave with terror bursts his chains, Stands loose — unshackled freedom gained ; for what ? To see his gaoler petrified with fear — Struck dumb with shame — electrified with awe ; Too late, too late, that freedom's useless now ; — i 98 SKETCHES IN VERSE. Another moment's past, earth heaves again ; They spring upon their feet, they cast aside Their richest ornaments, their golden hoards ; All, all, that might have then impeded flight, To dens, to yawning caves amidst the rocks, They fly, to hide their faces from the sight Of him — who sits upon that rainbowed throne, That like an emerald glitters in the sky ; And mad with terror, call upon the rocks And thunder- shaken mountains, that they fall, And bury them beneath creation's wreck — For the great day of wrath has come, and who Shall dare to stand and face the Lamb of God ! Behold vain Cheop's mountain pyramid ! That rose to heaven when earth was in its youth ; The dearth of ages — the destruction wild, And the mad havoc of fierce sweeping time, Have failed in its abasement — still, it towers Despite of all— o'er the piled works of man. Nations who lived, when it was dark from age, Have reared their monuments around its base, That now exist but in the drifting sand SKETCHES IN VERSE. 99 That crimps beneath you as you tread to view This bold creation's embled. The mind shrinks And trembles at our frail mortality, When we find that this stupendous fabric, Yes, even this — eventually must fall. TO MY MOTHEE. From Brazil. I. My mother's birth-day — wake ! my lyre awake ! And be thy cords on filial duty strung ; And let affection's wandering fingers shake The strings that vibrate — where my love has sung. And let each softened feeling, for her sake Rise in my heart, and dwell its hopes among ; And check its passions with a mother's care, And be its joys as light as if herself were there. DOMESTIC PIECES. 101 II. See yon banana, with its leaves far spread, Fluttering and rustling in the passing air ; With the bright genial sun upon its head, Lingering, and kissing the fresh verdure there. Behold ! the spreading leaves their offerings shed In luscious fruit — to thank that gift so fair ; Awake my lyre ! and let her gifts to me Create as fair an offering, in a heart as free. in. Mother — a word that speaks of love and peace, 'T is the first word we lisp in infancy ; — Mother — we love it more our years increase, That emblem we would wish our hearts to be. Mother — the type of virtue — witness Greece, " Sparta hath many a worthier son than he ;' ' A mother spake those words — and shall we dare To hold less holy in our heart — what heaven placed there. TO A LADY. As a tropical sunset— all cloudless and bright, That illumines the sky ere it leaves it in night ; As it glitters refulgent, an opening to heaven, And gladdens the waves with celestial leaven. As it swims in the azure so peerless and clear, As soft and divine as affection's tear, As bright — and as pure — and as cloudless from grief, Is the wish of my heart that now hallows this leaf. Yes ! dear is the hope — my heart wispers to me, And fresh in the birth — it now wafts it to thee ; That the morn — and the noon — and the eve of thy life, Be fair as this sunset — when you're honor'd, — a wife. TO OUE MOTHEE. Written in Boyhood. \ Accept, dear Mother, of your childrens' love, This emblem — their affection's prototype ; Would they'd the power like it to shelter thee From chilly blasts, or heaven's scorching heat : Nay ! though the wish as yet is vain to us, Could we exceed it in its sheltering, Not from the blasts, or heat, of heaven alone, But from the world's vicissitudes we would For ever shelter thee — our hearts would beat In playful strife, to offer into thee 104 DOMESTIC PIECES Some recompense more worthy of the debt Of kind affection that we owe, to one Who o'er us watched in our first infancy, Checked each new bud of waywardness in youth With fond indulgence ; and with kind reproof Taught our young minds to build their hopes, their joys , On the firm basis of a heavenly trust That teaches us e'en now to feel — to know You are our best — sincerest worldly friend ; That though the power to shield thee as we'd wish From all this vain world's casualties Be not vouchsaf'd to us, yet we can place Thy happiness and welfare in the hands Of him, who knows thy worth, and can reward Hereafter, thy kindness to thy children Fourfold — thanks unto thee, from us are vain, And deeds, alas ! through Nature's fickleness Are little better — sometimes even worse. LINES WRITTEN ON THE FLY-LEAF OP "SOGER'S ITALY.'' There is a boon, that I would ask of those Whom chance may lead to read this little book, That they will handle it as they would that They put most value on — 'tis not the book Itself, that makes the owner prize it far Above all others — but the remembrance Of the loved forms it brings before his eye When he doth gaze upon it — it has been A silent bond that bound his heart to home ; 106 DOMESTIC PIECES. That's every page teems as a mirror — with Forms that have lingered in his view of yore, Forms that had hearts, whose palpitations beat In echo to his own — and now afar, Dwelling a stranger, in a strange land, Where most that's left him as a tie between His heart and theirs, is this fond treasured gift ; And it has grown into a requisite Of his existence here — to part with which Where now to yield the mirror of his mind ; — It was the gift of one most dear to him, And she his much loved — and only sister. LINES ON ETEENITY, Written in Boyhood. Beneath the waves the sun — He marks the west with red ; He the day's course has run, And for a night hath fled. The world is hush'd in sleep, All Nature s in repose ; The winds no longer sweep O'er the blossom of the rose. Then on my waking couch, Of eternity I muse ; My inmost soul will crouch, And fathom it — refuse. 108 DOMESTIC PIECES. It was ere Death had hmTd His arrows of repose, Or yet this daedal world Had to existence rose.' Or sun that beams by day, Or moon that cheers by night, Did his command obey By springing forth to light. Like winds by him begot Who rules the sea and air, It comes — whence we know not, It goes- — we trace not where. As the rolling ocean, That boundeth evry clime ; Constantly in motion — As endless — as sublime. m THE DEATH OF A VALUED FKIEND. Could we but learn each passing sad event That throws its gloom around ; Each quiet, uneventful life seems sent To shed a moral round. Could we but see the quicksand 'neath our tread, 'Twould teach a wholesome truth ; But check the cheerful merriment that's spread O'er gaiety of youth. LINES WRITTEN IN THE HOUSE OF SIdKNESS. Time passes on, day sweeps past day, and we Count not that time, while happiness exists ; We drink the pleasure of the passing hour, And banish from our minds the thought that grief — May silent creep upon our joy, and cast Us headlong into its dark wretchedness : Oh ! I have drank that happiness too long In bright forgetfulness, and now appears A darkened shadow o'er my dear-priz'd joy ; Chang'd are the golden scenes of love at home, And now in dark and awful might Disease Has broken through our barrier walls of love, And storm'd our citadel — our fire- side — Rode rampant o'er our dearest hopes, and with Unhallowed tread profan'd its sacredness, And fixed his cold and clammy grasp upon Its best and fairest. HYMN. I. When nations of this world are lost 'Midst giddy dissipation's round, By revelry and pleasure toss'd, When wakes o'er all the trumpet's sound. ii. When peal on peal of thunders roar, And lightnings blaze across the sky, And foaming waters drown the shore, And tempest winds in discord cry. in. When the bright sun glooms dark as night, And red the moon glares on the scene, And sinners tremble at the sight, And wish themselves had never been. IV. When the parch'd heavens pass away, And rocks and islands leave their base, Grant us, O Lord, to stand that day, In purity before Thy face. HYMN. I. Great God ! I own thy boundless powers, Give ear to this my grief ; Pour down thy grace in gentle showers, And give Distress relief. ii. My heart is heavy — and I find My thoughts in anguish lie ; May, Lord, Thy mercy yet be kind, Teach me to glorify. in. My pride absorb'd by mortal dust, Since sickness bends my frame, Lord, may my mind — its hope — its trust, B^liallowing Thy name. IVe When star-crowned night enwrapp'd the earth, I bared my soul to Thee, Praying that Thou the spirit's birth Might deign to wake in me. LINES WE1TTEN ON EASTER SUNDAY. When the Redeemer — the begotten one, Hung from the cross — and drop by drop From his pierced side — life's blood ran on — Man's consolation — hope — and prop. Where the destroyers of that life At instant, by Almighty hand, Hurled into everlasting strife, Or shrivell'd like the parched brand ? No, in that dread hour there fell not, By the avenging angel's brand, Those who reviled, that God forgot, By all in that once favoured land. When Nature's echoing vaults around, Ring to t"he deep harmonious sound Of the last trumpet's call ; And from their graves they trembling rise, View then their anguish — their surprise — At finding him they crucified — the Judge of all. ON PEAYEE. I. There is a music in the voice of prayer, That tunes the softer cords within our hearts, Making the notes that throb their chorus there, Vibrate in tones that heaven alone imparts. ii. There is an influence that the mind distils, Soothing, as if some zephyr from on high Burdened with incense — that His throne instils Into our souls with a celestial dye. in. Oh the mild inspiration of that hour, When souls emit their voluntary song ; Nothing yet, earthly, ever had the power, To yield a joy — so pure — and yet so strong. TO A LADY, Who was my Conqueror in a Game of Cards. " There is a stream/' all know the rest, why quote The hacknied phrase, the bard " tongue -honied" wrote ; But that I ever found when Fortune smiled, My wayward steps fell Atropos beguiled ; No future " day star" glads the darkened sea, The fickle fates have tempest-tossed round me ; No " day-spring from on high'' that fortune breaths. Dispelling doubtful ills that Clotho wreaths Around my fate — but Atropos must fain Clip the bright thread, and leave all dark again ; So when success might justly seem my due, She ruled the cards and fortune turns to you; 116 DOMESTIC PIECES. Yet has Lachesis shed throughout the gloom, A consolation o'er her sister's doom ; Over the cards conjointly ruling there, She dealt the palm of victory to the fair : So while her sister smote, her gentler mind Gave me as victor fairest of her kind ; So may the sister fates their web combine, Weave more of good, than ill, o'er thee and thine ; I only trust when fortune frowns on me, She'll conqueror make of none less fair than thee. 13J MISCELLANEOUS PIECES. CAPTAIN AND THE " SCARLET IBIS." Slow moves his frigate to the hostile shore, And floats majestic o'er the breaker's roar ; Her noble captain waves his thirsty hand, And peal on peal re-echoes o'er the strand : While countless warriors in their red array, Martial their ranks for battle's bloody fray. A fluttering crimson cloud on high, That flapp'd — and soared — and swept him by ; While with his hawk-eye to his gun, Death waved his hand — the fight's begun ; Rung the reports, while shots in hundreds sped, And hurled oblivion on the red man's head ; But they, the red men of the forest drear, Shun not the battle — show no coward fear , 118 MISCELLANEOUS. But rally from each charge, and form on high Their wing'd battalions darkening the sky ; Flap their red banners in the morning light, And dare the captain to the coming fight ; While one tall warrior, yet unknown to fears, Paces the strand before his grenadiers ; He, their commander, he, their chieftain, who Now waves his red wing 'gainst the heaven's blue ; " What ! Ibis warriors, shall it ere be said, " From strength like this, that Ibis' forces fled, " Perish the thought !" he shook his kingly crown, The captain eyed it — fires — and knocked him down : From tree to tree — from ocean's shore, to creek They slow retreated, desperate but weak, Vain ! vain resistance, the musket's sound, Ere the report reverberating round, Has died into an echo — Death has sped, Numbers have fallen — and, the rest have fled : Peace came upon the scene, the bright sun shone, Where battle's God with Death had looked upon ; The victor's work was o'er, his labour done, The fight was ended and the battle won, MISCELLANEOUS. 119 The heedful captain with a doctor's care, To each dead warrior gives his proper share, Of kind attention, to where shots have sped, And washes well his regimentals red ; Binds up each broken limb, to suit the Town, And wraps him snug in folds of cotton down. When Pompey fell the greater Caesar's mind, Who dares to picture ? Lord of all mankind ; So our hero, illustriously great, Rose on the ruins of a fallen state ; When Pompey fled, by Julius Caesar fought, The conqueror won by what the conquered taught ; When Ceesar wept, above great Pompey slain, Caesar retained, what Pompey learnt in vain ; So our great hero conquer 'd o'er a race That knew defeat, but when they saw his face. He mused on these things, wrapt around his form, The huge great coat that guards him from the storm ; He closed his eyes, and at his mind's command, Came the soft visions of his native land ; He slumbered peaceably, and soft, and pure, And smiled in sleep, he thought of you good Moore, 120 MISCELLANEOUS. Wondering if you on Mixiana's heights, Had fought and conquered in such deadly fights ; Here sleep, enraged at dream, quick darkened all, And night spread over him her midnight pall. THE VISION OF EKEBUS- I saw a vision of the shades below, Of the great spirits of the British stage, Stern champions of the tragic muse— a show Of such who were the wonder of the age O'er which they blazed, and shed their light afar Over admiring nations — as a star Hid from our gaze by some swift passing cloud, With renewed splendour bursts from out its shroud ; So, through our obscured nature, each great mind Had, led by genius, shone on all mankind ; MISCELLANEOUS. 121 There Kemble, Garrick, Burbage, Taylor, Kean, With Cook, and Betterton, and Bond were seen Ranged side by side, with Henderson and Pope, And numbers more who placed their ev'ry hope, Through this dull life, on plaudits of the crew Of stage-struck fools, who cheered whate'er was new ; To join them, from the world there lately came One, who had mingled in this chase for fame, — One, who had seen his brightest hopes undone, And the sought prize — by some coarse buffoon won : Round him in clusters thronged this noble band, To hear the drama's state in Britain's land ; And many a sigh that broke from heart of gloom, Told how they learnt the tragic muse's doom ; And mourned to hear him all the ills disclose, By which the spirit of the drama froze, And lost its throne of honour, to give place To gaudy show, along with foul disgrace ; That on the spot, where it had ever been The mbving object in each passing scene, The now neglected and forgotten muse. In vain for patience or a hearing sues : L 122 MISCELLANEOUS. That on the boards which oft a Siddons' trod, The tiger crouches 'neath its keeper's rod. And the same dome where Braham's voice would soar^ Now but reverberates the lion's roar ; That worse — far worse— the fairest of the fair, Amidst these horrors are for ever there ; That all the actors who have toiled for fame, By breathing inspirations in the name ; Of the discarded muse of tragedy, Have weeping left her, from her fate to flee, Far from such scenes, to some more genial clime To linger there, till hap'ly come the time When it, from state of lethargy shall rise And sail triumphant o'er their longing eyes, And beam before the nation with a light, Shall put all fooling mummery to flight. And, in its strength on that auspicious day, Sweep all before it, — and resume its sway ; That sight sufficient to disgrace an age. Even Macready's forced to leave the stage, And soon will toll the muse's parting knell, When o'er the wave, to Kean^ it wafts farewell, MISCELLANEOUS. 123 Here Kemble rose — could not believe it true — Turned round to me, and bade me write to you To know if tragedy has gone to waste, And Britons own such vitiated taste ; And that, if true, you'd on the nation call To make one stand to stay the drama's fall. There was a time, when Britons would not deign, To slur the drama with so foul a stain, As throw aside each fair Shaksperean scene, For such base mummery as now is seen, To shame the stage with the foul mocking face, Of dogs", and monkeys, grinning all apace ; ? T would seem that human beings failed to find, In man's chaste acting ought bespeaking mind ; But fly with rapture searching for each grace, Depicted in this low and subtle race ; This proves the truth, phrenologists have said That fools, and monkeys, have the said formed head : And who denies, that at them looking there, Of mind the monkey has the greater share, 124 MISCELLANEOUS. For if, of things one good— one bad — he had* You find he casts aside the proffered bad ; But ye ! oh fools ! of two things choose the worse, And throw away the drama to your curse . FEAGMENT. ci Farewell, may heaven guard you," such my speech^ Unto a friend my heart had held most dear, Sorrow came o'er me, for beyond the reach He past of my affection ; and appear, To my sad fancy dangers to uprear, Their gastly forms, and fill the space between Now and that moment, when again I'll hear That welcome voice — and find that time has been Working his sure commission on the heart unseen . HOMES. First in the lists of poetry we find That ancient bard, who tuned heroic line And pictured with his rich and powerful mind War in its rage, and with it did combine, Love — fear — temptation — shame — remorse — and crime — With blood-stained valor striding o'er the field, As victory round his brows fresh laurels twine ; While on Olympus high — the fates unsealed The book, and the dread issue to the gods revealed. SHAESPEKE. He waved his magic wand, and lo ! appeared The secret depths of nature to unfold, Her long prized knowledge of the truths she reared ; All the wild burstings of the passions told ; All the blood-stained and tragic acts of old, Lay clear before him — firm his outstretched hand Grasped all — and shadowed forth with sketches bold His vivid thoughts in words — while air — sea — land, Yielded their ghostly treasures at his mind's command. ODE TO THE DEPARTED. There is a time when o'er the mind comes sweeping The thousand recollections of the past ; There is a time when, as the widow'd weeping, The throbbing heart beats as to throb its last. There is a time when friendship's fondest breathings Flicker for nourishment, as fades the flower That withers o'er the porch that kissed its wreathings : And the soul saddens as our memory's power Paints on the living mind the spirits that are fled. There is a time when man could wish he'd never Twined round his heart the bond of friendship's wreath. There is a time when souls from souls could sever The very essence of the love they breathe ; When hearts, all gladness, lose their every feeling, Save for the friendships of the times of yore, And feel the death-sting to new friendship stealing Over the heart that now may love no more, Save with the tribute tear the bursting heart may shed, MISCELLANEOUS. 127 O, heart of man ! why wert thou fram'd for loving, And all so changing in this world of thine ? Why keep thy cords to friendship's music moving, When hearts responsive die that echo mine ? O, heart ! be thou from friendship warp'd for ever, So bring not sadness when thou hear'st of death. Alas ! 'tis vain for friendship's wreath to sever, It still reblooms and fades but with our breath, Refreshed by even tears we shed above the dead. FEAGMENT. i Remark yon child ! behold its upturned glance, Its laughing eye, its dimpled cheek, its smile Upon its mother ; 't will your heart beguile Of all its sadness, and your soul entrance, With the delightful thought, that still as yet No disappointed hopes have left their trace, Upon that young and joyous speaking face ; That beams with all the brightness, health and peace beget. LINES ADDRESSED TO THE OFFICERS OF HER MAJESTY'S STEAM FEIGATE "GROWLEE," Upon the occasion of her visiting Brazil. I. I stood upon the beach — the waters laving The sparkling pebbles with each wavelet's sweep ; I saw a cloud its darkening volumes waving, Over the glassy surface of the deep ; Its wreathings mingling with the clouds on high, Darkening the azure of a tropic sky. ii. I heard the words that bid me wait to see The spirits brave — waves bore from Albion's land ; I saw the dark cloud foaming on the sea, To masts and vessel bearing towards the strand, Proudly she came, high o'er the billow's roar, And rode majestic by the tropic shore. MISCELLANEOUS. 129 III. I stood upon the deck — old Ocean's sons around The " oak Leviathan" beneath my tread ; Her masts high pencilling the ether bound, With snow-white canvass o'er her pinions spread ; Round her broad deck more than an hundred hands Are clustered where each bristling cannon stands. VI. I met with friends — where such might not be found, When distant from the land I claim mine own ; May friendship's influence cast an halo round When ploughing angry seas you ride alone, Upon the ocean's bosom's troubled swell, Yet not a blast to break that friendship's spell. v. The time may come when foe encounters foe, When proud hearts beat with yet a prouder throb ; When battle's God may scatter joy or woe, When friendship's breast may not refuse a sob, May friendship's hand, revenge each friendship lost Till Briton's flag by victory's blast is tost. SATAN'S HARANGUE TO THE POWERS OF HELL. From the prose speech of Satan, in the " Cliristiad," put into verse to agree with the Spencer " Meter," used "by Henry Kirke White in that Poem, which the world laments he lived not to complete. I. " Ye powers of hell — I am no coward ! I Have proved it often in our wars of old ; Who taught you to Jehovah's arms defy ? . Who coped with Ithuriel, and thunders bold Of the Almighty ? who, when with fierce hold Your senses by hell's venom torpid lay, Who first awoke, and in one general fold Collected all your scattered powers to day, And ranged them on the lake's scorched banks — who ? speak ye ! say ! n. " Who o'er the unfathomable abyss, Led you in safety to this new world's throne That totters to its base ? was it for this, Ye treacherous fiend, that daring, ye have thrown MISCELLANEOUS. 131 A stain on Satan's bravery ? ye who own No better purpose, than to basely feed On the defenceless — glory in the groaa Of dying infants — and will sow the seed Of every cruel — foul — and curst ignoble deed. in. " Away with such a boaster, who ne'er gives His cowardly aid, when wanted in the field, But, like the vulture, hovers o'er and lives Upon the wounded — who, compelled to yield, Have not the strength to raise their fallen shield ; True bravery is from rashness as remote As 'tis from hesitation — let us wield Our counsels coolly, and each judgment note : But when resolved — we'll act, swifter than thought can float." LINES WBITTEN IN BOYHOOD. If in the world an honest man you'd be, Stay for a moment and attend to me : — 132 MISCELLANEOUS. If you engagements ever truly keep, A name for punctuality you'll reap — Be mindful business always to attend, And friends, unjustly, never to offend. Be all your actions, open, just, and true, Though great your faults, they'll dwindle down to few, Your heart you then will be surprised to find Made light and buoyant by an easy mind ; And if with fortune Fate increase your store, Turn not the care-worn pilgrim from your door, And bitter taunting words ne'er on him cast, That cut far keener than the keenest blast, For though man falls, he never falls so low As not to feel the sting of satire's blow : Bind up his wounds of grief with comfort's balm, And to his o'erflown sorrows stretch the palm Of sympathizing Charity, that waves All thought of gaining by the bud it saves ; Remember, Man, that from the self-same clay You and the pauper struggled into day ; This do, and thou dost well, for time may be When fortune turns, no longer fav'ring thee. FEAGMENI. I stand beside the tranquil wave That ripples to that land, Where freedom's banner once was known To wave from glory's hand ; Where learning loved to rest her form, Where sculpture reigned supreme, Where Nature scattered beauties round, A fairy land — of dream. The waters sparkle with the light Of the bright setting sun, And fleecy clouds across the sky Their swift and wild course run ; The swelling heights that rear around Their tall heads to the sky, Are covered o'er with stately trees, Through which the mild winds sigh. M CONFINEMENT. Thou slow, yet sure, and potent ill, that brings The proudest spirit to a level with The most debased mortality — that sucks The life blood of the soul by slow degrees, Until it lends it step by step to imbecility, That drives the proud heart in its bursting throbs Far towards the brink of sad insanity. Oh, ye ! whose worldly cunning hurries you To the adoption of such plans as may Gain you more labour from your pent up slave ; How little do you know the mind's intricacies, How small your knowledge of this busy world. Is that the mind that breathes within a frame Pressed down by languor — want of heaven's air, That yields the greatest fruit ? — no ! — no ! not so You choke the fruit and seed by forcing it : — Go watch the panther in his native woods, His bounding strength, his wild ferocity, His eye-balls' fire — his majesty of pride, JLfcJH MISCELLANEOUS. 135 And view the same when 'prison' d in a den, His strength decay 'd — ferocity grown tame, His listless walk — -his glazed eyes languid stare, His beauty fading in the sunless light : 'Tis so with man — his energies decay, Each duty gone through as within a dream, The soul of interest in each object flies, And inch— by inch — he sinks until he dies. SONGS. THE LAND OF BBITANNIA. i. Oh ! know ye that land where each zephyr that sighs Steals a scent from the rose in her vales as it flies, And bears it away to a neighbouring scene, Where the perfume it blends with the thistle of green ? ii. Where the peasant reclines by the murmuring brook, Peace and joy in his heart, and content in his look, While the song of his gladness with each wild echo sails, And soars to the skies from his dear native vales. SONGS. 157 III. Where the banner of freedom wafts spotless and free, From palace to cottage — from mountain to sea ; From her barks as they float over ocean's blue wave, To plant it triumphant on slavery's grave. IV. Where her sons of the sword are the manly and brave, Attest Wellington ! — you led them Europe to save ; While the billows are spray as her armaments sweep, Attest Nelson ! — you led them as " Lords of the Deep." v. 'Tis the land where in beauty the fairest of earth, Shed their influence round o'er " the land of their birth," Where the blush of the cheek, and mild light of the eye, Speak of innocence pure to the hearts that are nigh. VI. 'Tis the Land of Britannia — the Land of the Free — Fair Queen of the Ocean — bright pearl of the sea ; 'Tis the Land of Britannia — that issues command From Canada's frosts — to parch'd India's strand. TO FONDLY HOPE, AND THIM OF THEE. Air—" The Hover's Flag," I. When the howling winds are swelling high, And the tempest's wrath shall shake the sky ; When our ship is tossed on the foaming wave, And the ocean yawns — the seaman's grave. Though hearts around me quail with fear, I'll choke each throb — restrain each tear — And on that dark and troubled sea, Will fondly hope and think of thee. ii. When those howling winds are hushed in sleep, And the moon shines on a shVry deep ; And her pale light's beshadowed o'er by clouds That robe her round like phantom shrouds. Though joy and gaiety be round* And nothing heard but laughter's sound ; From those scenes of pleasure I still can flee, To fondly hope and think of thee. THE LOVER'S MOST ELOQUENT TONGUE. i. The cheeks with a blush, or the lips with a smile, Or the glance of the eye from among The thick ringlets that gracefully cluster it round, Form lover's soft eloquent tongue ; And still if they breathe not their wild thoughts in words, Or allow them to burst forth in song ; Yet still is there left them, the music of love, This lover's most eloquent tongue. ii. If strangers around them should gather in crowds. And divided they be by the throng ; Yet still though unnoticed by all who are there, They converse in this eloquent tongue ; If the lover be sent 'gainst his country's proud foes^ O'er the waves of the ocean along, And her wild gushing anguish shall stifle — farewell, Bids adieu in this eloquent tongue. ANSWER TO "THE SPELL IS BBOKEN, WE MUST PART!" i. " The spell is broken, we must part/' The anguish that these words first gave, Lives to corrode this throbbing heart, And bear it to its rest — the grave. Now long to home I've bid farewell, And sought in other lands a spot Where I have tried in vain to quell The love you thought I had forgot. ii. No — round my heart is firm entwined, That love still breathing once deemed lost, With my existence 'tis combined, T*hey part — alone when life's the cost. And that I still may be forgiven Oft my fond fancy pictures yet, But that well meet once more in Heaven, That hope — I never can forget. SONG. Oh ! who can paint the hopelessness, The anguish of despair ; When first you find your thoughts have not, A friend their griefs to share. When by the world pressed down with hate 5 And sorrow shrouds the whole, You find you've not the power to stay The bursting of your soul. ii. But then, will all your feelings proud. Disdain beneath to fall, The utter hatred of such foes, And rises o'er them all. And in their rising prey upon The anguish of your heart ; While through it as 'tis gnawed away ; Will pride to rescue start. THE VALES OF BEDDGELERT. i. The world contains no spot so dear, So hallowed in mine eyes. As where Beddgelert's valleys sweep, Beddgelert's hills arise : Might fortune grant my fondest wish, Tis here that we might dwell Amidst the wildness of its vales, The magic of their spell. ii. Where Aber Glaslyn's demon bridge Seems as a spider's thread, Stretching from each o'er-hanging cliff, For none save fairy tread ; Where far in the dark gulf beneath The mountain torrents dash, The only sound that breaks the calm— The murmuring waters' splash. SONGS. 143 III. Where Snowdon, Cambria's giant lord, Rears his bleak scalp on high, Parts with a giant grasp the clouds, To breathe, midst ether sky ; 'Tis here — the world's turmoil forgot Each fickle change of fate, Would cast no shadow o'er our hearts, No sorrow o'er our state. .. IV. We would live in peace and taste the bliss, That mutual loving knows, Binding that bond around our souls That fond to fond heart throws. When Time should wing Death's dark decree, And rob thy latest sigh, Ah ! then — when all I loved was gone, 'Tis here — that I would die. SONG. I. Oh the loved moment first I saw Thy flashing eyes of jet, And their soft brightness beamed on mine ; I never can forget. ii. Oh yes, still deeper in my heart Remembrance will be yet ; 111 bare it with me to my grave : — I never can forget. in. And if my fate should sorrow bring, Or misery beset, 'T will be my consolation then ; I never can forget. IV. Or if at last in dark despair My sun of hopes shall set, That it may still in brightness rise, I never can forget. WITH ME! WITH ME! A Parody on "THE SEA! THE SEAT i. With me, with me, then drink with me^ And the sparkling glass shall a bumper be ; shall &c. And not a speck or spot of care, Must dare to darken the bumper fair, As you toast the flowing bowl with me, And friendship's heart be warm in thee, And friendship's heart, &c ii. In thee — in thee — be warm in thee, Light as the play of a summer sea, And joy in its deepest recesses flow, Bright as the spark of this goblet's glow ; If the storms of the world approach us near, What care we ? what care we ? all is friendship here, What care we ? &c. 146 SONGS. III. I love ! oh how I love to be ! With social friends surrounding me, And the heart's bond that graspeth thine, Shall find that its link is bound to mine ; Then cast from your hearts all care or woe* And discord banished be — below, And discord &c. IV. All votaries that friendship still adore, You will find will praise her more and more, And backward will fly to her sacred shrine, Like the ship to her port o'er the watery brine ; A goddess she was — and shall be to me, And I worship — I worship — friendship's shrine with thee, And I worship, &c. v. The fate's were bright, I shall not forget, In the joyful hour, in the joyful hour, when we, when we, first met, SONGS. 147 And enmity lay locked in silent sleep, And forgot to wake the passions deep, And the skies were bright o'er mother earth, And welcomed with joy our friendship's birth, And welcomed, &c. VI. And now that Old Time doth pass o'er all, He adds but new force to friendship's thrall — The flow of the sea of our life Shall sweep to the end devoid of strife, And death whenever he comes to me, Shall come — shall come — with friends around like thee, Shall come — shall come, &c. I HAVE LOVED THEE ! I HAVE LOVED THEE! Air—" I remember ! I remember !" I. I have loved thee — I have loved thee — From the childhood of my day ; Since first we wreathed our garlands, In the green, green fields of May. ■M ■ 148 SONGS. II. I have loved thee — I have loved thee — - As we love an ether sky ; And deemed it pure, the love I bore* As angels love on high. in. I have loved thee — I have loved thee — As a mother loves her child ; As the zephyrs o'er the ocean, Love to kiss the billows wild. IV. I have loved thee- — I have loved thee — With passion's burning strain ; With heart — with soul — with every hope- As I ne'er shall love again. WOMAN! WAE! AND WINE! A GLEE, For Three Voices. FIRST VOICE. Woman !— our toast ! — a void were here, Of the verdure of earth's pleasure, Failed this bright rosebud to appear Her choicest — fairest — gem and treasure ; Eden still failed in beauty, till this flower Bloomed in the garden, gladdening Adam's bower. Fill high the goblet— be the bowl With the bright juice o erflowing ; Raised be our spirits, while each soul, Gay with glad friendship glowing, Echoes each note our kindred hearts combine, To toast triumphant — Woman ! War ! and Wine ! 150 SONGS. SECOND VOICE. War ! — be our toast ! — danger daring, Yields a joy that the brave heart feels, Warriors death's pale sceptre sharing, Hurl oft that death that from them reels ; Battle's triumphant thunderings pealing cease, War's changing trumpet hails approach of peace. Fill high the goblet — be the bowl With the bright juice o'erfiowing, &c, &c» THIRD VOICE. Wine ! — be our toast ! —when red war dies, When the vintage bright grape teems ; When each fond zephyr fragrance sighs, When dark eye through dark lashes beams,, When hearts are softened by the social glee, And souls responsive echo thoughts as free. Fill high the goblet — be the bowl With the bright juice o'erflowing ; &c.> &c. THE DEPAETUEE. I. My friends are around me in numbers entreating, The blue of the heavens are dark with the night ; And the breath of my soul from my bosom retreating, Sends the tear drops to linger and dim on my sight. n. We must part ! we must part ! hark ! — the voice of the ocean, Is breathing forth murmurs that bid me depart, And the breath of the storm- is wild dashing to motion, The waves that in madness might sicken the heart, in. Time was, when my heart had not ventured to leave ye ; When with grief its vibrations had bid me to stay : Yet the world in its chill, of its joys may bereave me, But never, its love to thee, flitter away. 152 songs. IV. It was born in my breast, when it first felt its breathings, It increased with my manhood, grew strong with my strength ; As the vine o'er the cedar may fling round its wreathings, To strengthen— -to beauty- — the whole through its length. v. But away with the tear, and away with this grief, I go — and fond hope will not picture for ever ; I bear thy esteem — 'tis the balm of relief, That must nourish the hopes that this parting might sever. WHEN THE GEEEK IN HIS BEAUTY, SAT ROBED IN HIS PBIBE, When the Greek in his beauty, sat robed in hjs pride, By the star of existence, his own dear bride ; Luscious drink for the gods, Maronean's dark wine He quaffed, and the pledge — yes ! fair Greece ! it was thine. SONGS. 153 CHOEUS. Wine quickens the spirits-— enlivens the soul, Yet alone it still fails to enoble the whole, Fill your glass, Pledge your lass, Drink to friends now afar, Then take rest And be blest While you smoke your cigar. When the proud Roman feasted that lord of a world, And the banquet hall opening its splendours unfurled ; Falernian the wine bore each goblet on high, Wine that Bacchus or Jove might each pledge with a 1 sigh. Chorus — When the German carouses, enveloped in smoke, Like the cloud o'er the bower, when Jupiter woke ; Then Johannisberg — Grafenberg — Steinberg — Tokay- Fill their goblets gigantic till first streak of day. Chorus — 154 SONGS. When the Briton in gladness inclines to be merry, Purple glitters the port — amber sparkles the sherry ; And the yeoman who battles adversity's gale, Quaffs his glass of mild whisky or foaming bright ale. Chorus — WHEN EAELY IN LIFE WE ARE THROWN ON THE WORLD. i. When early in life we are thrown on the world, And strive with our utmost to bend, All passing events so they aid our advance ; What's so useful or true as a friend. ii. When your heart is entranced by the magic of love ; And a rival has dared to offend, You first for your honor, a challenge endite, Then turn to look round for a friend. — « »w SONGS. 155 III. Then after successful you bear off the prize, Before at the church you attend, To receive her a bride in reward of your truth ; — In a groom's man you look for a friend. IV. And when nurse with a smirk and a smile on her face Shews an heir and cries "what a god-send;" To father the sins of the child on some head, For a godfather turn to a friend. v. But if hard pressing on you adversity frowns, And neglected you sink to your end ; 'Tis then that you feel from the depth of your heart, The kindness and truth of a friend. THE DANCE OF THE FAIRIES. I. Where the waters gently swelling, Glittering in the pale moon light ; By soft lavings formed a dwelling, Fit for love 'midst corals bright, ii. Fairies there in mazy measure, Trip through crystal arches high ; Round and round in endless pleasure, Led my music's faintest sigh. in. While their feet as brilliants flashing, Sparkle 'midst the waving dance ; Their s) T lph-like forms as meteors flashing, Meet and now elude the glance. IV. The pale light from the waves collecting, On a thousand crystal gems ; Round the starry cave reflecting, Forming countless diadems. OH THE MIND THAT IS PENT IN A HOME STRICKEN SOUL, i. Oh the mind that is pent in a home stricken soul, Is wrecked of its pride as the ship on the shoal ; But give me the mind that is tossed as the bark, On the tempest of passions — the fierce and the dark. ii. To guide it with pride through the storms of the world, And trample the malice that envy has hurled ; To battle with stern opposition and wrongs, With the heart's pulse of pride that success prolongs. in. To sail through their billows marked with white foam of hate, Yet rise o'er them all, as their angers dilate ; And grasp firmly the helm of the mind that soars 3 To battle the tempest where discord roars, o 158 SONGS. IV. To anchor at last in the calm seas of life, After breasting the stormy waves of strife ; For 'tis thus — and thus only — by battle we learn, To value the peace that same battle may earn. OH YE DWELLERS IN BRITAIN-THAT LAND OF MY BIRTH ! i. Oh ye dwellers in Britain — that land of my birth ! In a paradise live to the rest of the earth ; Did you ramble from home — it would start you to find, How low virtue has sank in the breasts of mankind. ii. Go visit the land where the red blazing sun, Bids the blood run cool through the bosoms of none ; Where the heat of the passions ily swift with the blood, And anarchy reigns, where once liberty stood. SONGS. 159 III. Where the play of the passions, the fierce and the wild, Has an echo that sobs in the breast of the child ; Where anger and discord, bring vengeance with blood, Swift and sure as destruction, keeps pace with the flood. IV. Where the beauty of nature is mockery's smile, To the darkness of hearts that are black with their guile ; Where the glass of the ocean that sweeps round the land, Is a mirror of brightness that silvers the strand. v. But why is the mirror transparent and fair, Round the land where the treasury of nature is there ? 'T is that nature has formed to reflect from its face, The dark sins of its sons, — round the world of space. VI. Oh Britain ! cold Britain ! the mirror round thee, Is confused with the waves of a troubled sea ; That sweeps round thy shores, and echoes in air, With the laughter of joy, or the sob of despair. 160 SONGS. VII. Here — blazing and glittering full on the sight. Where the death- star to slavery rises in light ; There — muddy and dark, in the lap of the foam, Shews the spot where oppression's hard hand is on home,, VIII. Here — brightness all glory, where the standard of God, Waves proud where the Pagan's lies torn on the sod ; There — darkness is round, where the same standard flowing, Marks where the crusade against Christians is glowing. SONG OF THE BRAZILIAN GANHAD0R& i. Arouse thee ! bold spirits of Afric's dark line, Bid the day-star of freedom refulgent to shine ! Ah ! — land of our fathers — where our brethren are free ; 'T was the hand of the white man that tore us from thee : — SONGS. 161 Where our heart's pulse in gladness beat wild through our form, Till the white man came there as the lightning in storm, 'Midst the tempests of ocean we were brought to his shore ; Now, the slave of that white — and his Ganhadore, ii. 'T was his deep stinging avarice tore us away, From that land were the sun brightly blazes to-day ; Where his ray o'er the mountain paints forest and sky, With the gorgeous tints of his purple dye : And beams on the free and bold hearts of our sires ; Shall it be then ? that freedom — that boldness expires ? Forbid it — just heaven ! whose Lord we adore, And be freedom ere yet — for the Ganhadore. WHERE GUADALQUIVER'S PLACID WAVE, i. Where Guadalquiver's placid wave, Fair Andalusian valleys lave, And bears away The essence stolen from each flower, To float it to some distant bower, And scatter it in spray. ii. J T is here I hourly think of her, Who soars in beauty o'er the fair Of every sphere ; Thy coral lips — thy downcast eye — And blushing cheek — and heart drawn sigh. Dwell with me yet, my dear. in. Could I but bid an angel now, Go place upon her heavenly brow A charm from me ; The softest wish that moves my heart, The brightest gift I could impart, Should all around thee be. THE CKOWNING- OF NEPTUNE. Air—" Slow thou regal purple stream." Roll thou dark blue ocean roll ! Foaming on from pole to pole ; O'er thy billows Neptune sails, 'Midst thy tempests — storms — and gales. Now ! let thy crystal empire ring ! Sea nymphs hail him ocean's king ; Round his car in circles sweep, Naiads, fairest of the deep. Hark ! I hear their echoed song, O'er silv'ry waves it floats along. They hail him king ! they hail him king ! THE SHETLAND FISHEEMAN. The morning was calm, and the blue tranquil deep, Was a mirror of brightness — its passions asleep : And the wave of adieu — as we dashed out to roam, Came from wife and fond bairns by the fisherman's home. We fished, were successful ; we turned for the shore, But were met by the burst of the hurricane's roar — In vain to oppose it — as eagle we flew, And bourne from the land — to our home, bid adieu ! Our small sails were furled, our hatches closed tight, And we swept with the wind through the darkness of night ; And each sobbing wave as it swelled to th^sky, Sucked us down in its trough, and then hurled us on high. O that night ! by what madness my bosom was rent ; How my soul was by sorrow and misery bent ; And the heart-rending thoughts of the tearful wife, Choked the prayer on my lips 'midst the element's strife. SONGS. 165 'T was fearful ! — 'twas fearful ! — and each one who was there, Turned his eyes upon mine, seeking hope from despair ; And I stifled my grief — for my son was there — My light-haired laddie— the fisherman's heir. Day dawned 'midst the rage of the elements wild, And the heavens frowned dark, to our prayer, that they smiled ; Around and around us, still one vast foaming space, Where the winds in storm-chariots rode ocean's face. Our hearts sad and drear, — grew chill with despair — For we were not alone — no — grim hunger came there : Day^aded-aJIpHTand night pillowed her form, Where the tempest her lullaby shrieked in the storm. No hope — still no hope — and now darkness once more, Oh God, in thy mercy, send help we implore ! Day dawned, with the light there was succour at hand, We are saved ! we are saved ! thank heaven there's land ! 166 SONGS. The surf is around, and the wild breakers roar, Yet we heed not the danger, we dash for the shore ; And in safety we land upon Norway's bleak coast, Unharmed through the horrors we dreaded the most. Weeks — weeks passed away, ere dear Shetland once more, We returned sad at heart, to thy storm beaten shore ; My hut was in sight — oh the agony wild ! Of that moment of doubt — where* s my wife and my child? Who is that on the beach ? it is she ! it is she ! Gracious heaven I'm thankful — my daughter I see- How is this ! — know you not then your father my child ? She looked in my face — God ! an idiot smiled. They led me away — far more dead than in life, They point to a spot, — 'tis the grave of my wife ; Oh dread were the horrors that tempest combined, Though fearful in body — far more fearful in mind. 1 LINES WRITTEN DURING A VIGIL IN THE CHAMBER OE THE DEAD. Death, what art thou ? whither bred, Dwell you with the quick, or dead ? Are you some destructive power, Seeking victims hour on hour ; Taking still a mad delight, Mortal happiness to blight ; Flickering o'er the sleeper now, Soon to smite that beating brow ; With the living, living ever, But to check a life of pleasure ; And in hatred — biding still But to feed on flesh at will ; Smiting all — but not to save, Hurling millions to the grave ? 168 LINES ON DEATH. Art thou one that must not die, Damned for immortality ; With an hunger never ceasing, But for ever still increasing ; Cursed to find, the more you smite, The more your hunger will incite The madness that exists in thee, Where murder is but revelry ; For man's sympathies you care not- Doing ever — what man dare not ? Or art thou from heaven above, Minister of angel's love ? Sent amidst our fallen race In secret ; — and with silent pace, Past each sufferer to creep, Ending anguish in thy sleep ; Being thus, to man below, The end — the refuge — of his woe ? LINES ON DEATH. 169 We live in health, — and never think of death, Till fierce disease may strike us with his power ; We live in health, — and value not that breath, That fell disease may grasp at any hour. We live in health, — -yet death is all around, And each day marks some valued life's decay ; We live in health,— when lo ! that dreaded sound, Death's whispering voice— has hurried us away. We live in health, — list ! mortals, lend an ear, — Ye are the food by which grim death may live— And while in health, live ye in hope and fear, When you death feed — God heavenly health may MONTBAR. "He left a Corsair's name to other times, Link'd wrfcti one virtue, to a thousand crimes." Byron. ARGUMENT, Description of a bay in the tropics — the island — vessel moored in its shade — her description — the watch — sleeping crew — night in the tropics— the moon's rising — the signal — an arrival — the pirate chiefs description — the vessel's de- parture — feelings on the ocean — description of the chief continued— his lieutenants — the training of a bucanier — hunters of Hispaniola — the logwood cutters — tempests — Panama, sacking of—morning on the deep— vessels, altered appearance — anxiety of the crew— approach of the Spanish frigate— A sail ! a sail ! — the Spanish frigate — description of an approaching ship at sea— preparation for battle, MONTBAK, i. It is a night of beauty — the blue sky, Spangled with stars and fleecy drapery, Sheds down a light upon a shore and sea,, Faint as the shading to reality ; All is so soft and delicately fair, It seems a mellowed vision resting there. ii. The hills in half seen forms bend down to kiss, The rippling waters in their dark abyss ; Which the blue waves, light coursing to the beach. In playful sparkles seal with murmuring speech : And the cool night breeze stealing from the land, Toys the white crests the laughing seas expand : 176 montbar. Canto I. The verdant hills encircle a small bay, Where glassy waters dance each star's soft ray, The mango sketches its broad limbs on sky, And the tall cocoa waves its head on high : The hills — the trees — the moving water s glow, As views that oft through memory's landscape flow ; And all so softened — that the whole but seem The pencilled image of some scene we dream, So gentle — tranquil — save the rustling palm, No voice of nature breaks the general calm. in. There is an island bosomed on the bay, Round which the billows leap in sportive play ; Dashing their heads against the rocks that rise High and embattled, towering to the skies, And frowning cast their shadows far and wide, The guardian spirits of the sweeping tide ; And far beneath them in the shadow there, A vessel rides within the watery lair ; Moored in the shade, where no obtrusive eye, Peering its depths may there her strength descry, As if her deeds were such — though dark the night, What little light there is — she shuns its sight. Canto I, MONTBAR, 1/7 IV. Her fairy shape seems formed for eagle's flight, Her run so clear — her form in all so light, Her tall masts raking, taper as the reed, Clothed with the pinions that impel her speed ; While round their base the glittering arms appear^ The musket — pistol — cutlass — and the spear ; And fore and aft the deck runs broad and freej, With cannon bristling o'er the sobbing sea, v. The watch in silence gaze on sea and sky, Or pace the deck, where clustered numbers lie, Grasping their daggers in their restless sleep, Dark pirates dreaming ; terrors of the deep ! Their lips may move — but there no smile will beam, Where blood-red actions darken all they dream ; Pity may trespass — but not harbour there, But fly from fury maddened by despair : Their hearts are brave — their souls are steeped in ill, And blood and vengeance revel there at will While eacli dark purpose — sleep's oblivion tames, Each soul receives the wound — each fell mind aims : 178 montbar. Canto I. Thus conscience strikes, with weapon poisoned well, And the wound cankers — makes the mind a hell : Such is the crew, and such the bark that rides, Silent and hidden on the swelling tides ; As tigers crouching — lurking for their prey, They lie in darkness — waiting for the day. The night sleeps calmly — silent in her rest, Slumbering in peace as tranquil sleep the blest, The zephyrs fan the features they expose, And kiss the beauty of her cheek's repose ; The wild vanilla sheds its essence round, And scents the waters of the deep's profound : The stars through space immeasurable roll, Spangle the ether vault from pole to pole ; And clouds as guardians of the sleep of night, On fleecy pinions wing their gentle flight. VII. 'T is now the noon of night — behold she wakes ! A light beams in the east in playful flakes, It guilds the sky — it kisses each bright cloud, And robes them all in one rich silver shroud : Canto I. montbar. 179 She wakes !— ah ! no— 'tis but a dream of day, The moon in beauty chariots here her way, She rises as a sea nymph from the deep, To watch from heaven her favourite in sleep : The zephyrs warbling through the tropic trees, Hailing her coming — wake into a breeze, VIII. Scarce had the moon's bright rays kissed ether sky, When flashed a bright blaze from the rocks on high ; And the sharp ringing of a pistol flung Its echoes midst the caves and rocks among : — And now upon the wings of breezes float, The sounds vibrating of a whistle's note ; Swift from the craft a light boat speeds to land, Runs half its length upon the grating sand : A form — in silence, wrapt in dark capote, Steps from the strand — and seats him in the boat ; Long sweep the oars at his imperious beck, And soon he stands upon that wild bark's deck. IX. Cold — distant — haughty — was the air and mien, With which he noticed all on that fell scene ; 180 montbar. Canto I. u Bertrand !" and as he spake he turned to one, Whose aspect fierce, was dark to look upon, — " Call up all hands, and quick the anchor weigh, " Idle and vain the moments that we stay ;