PS 2664 
 . P175 
 
 1850 
 
 LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 
 
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POEMS; 
 
 
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 C. AUGUSTUS PRICE 
 
 CHARLESTON: 
 
 PRINTED FOB THE AUTHOR 
 
 1850 
 

 
DEDICATION. 
 
 Go, little book, and with thy little thoughts 
 
 Cause but a sigh from her, whose name you bear ; 
 
 Then shall I gain the object which I sought. 
 If sighs but tell my memory still is there. 
 
 Tell her each thought of love — of hope — of joy, 
 
 In her blest memory ever found a home. 
 And that her name, immixed with earth's alloy, 
 
 "Will be my watchword where'er through life I roam. 
 
 Tell her that hope, amid life's stormy waves, 
 
 Hath borne love's bark, though shattered, safe thus far, 
 
 And buoyed, still the wilder tempest braves, 
 Steers by her smile its heaven's brightest star. 
 
PROEM. 
 
 Go, little book, and -with thy little thoughts 
 
 Win in each heart and memory a home, 
 And o'er the clime and world of poesy. 
 
 And through the realms of glittering fancy roam. 
 
 For thou wast born 'mid sadness in the heart, 
 And storms of feeling blew thy craft to sea ; 
 
 Though hope would sometimes come and take the helm. 
 And moor it safe upon some sunny lea. 
 
 And many a time, when sunlight decked the wave. 
 Or moonbeams danced before her dashing prow ; 
 
 Young love would come and sing her gentle song, 
 While heavenly light was shining on her brow. 
 
 And then would gloom and clouds the sky enwrap, 
 And darkness throw her mantle o'er the deep ; 
 
 Without one star to steer the watery maze, 
 For hope was gone — and destiny in sleep. 
 
 Then land thy freight of little words and thoughts, 
 
 Secure within the haven of the heart ; 
 And if thou find'st a home within the soul, 
 
 There still remain, nor ever from it part. 
 
 A-^ 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 in 2010 with funding from 
 The Library of Congress 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/poemsOOpric 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 Page. 
 
 Robert and Adela. - - 1 
 
 Wild Flowers, 5 
 
 To Miss J , 6 
 
 To Miss R 7 
 
 Life, 8 
 
 Absence, 9 
 
 Hope, 10 
 
 Love's Fancied Heaven, - 11 
 
 Psalm m, 12 
 
 To Rev. A. G. S***** 13 
 
 Darlington, -...-.--- 13 
 
 Cokesbury, 14 
 
 Lines on the death of a classmate — T. E. A. - - - 15 
 
 Fame, -...-.- 16 
 
 Lines, 17 
 
 To Miss , - 18 
 
 I gaze upon the careless crowd, 22 
 
 Love's first step, &c.. ........ 22 
 
 Passing Away, ....... 2S 
 
 Spring, 24 
 
 Loved Ones, 25 
 
 The dream is past, - - - - - - - 25 
 
 On receiving a Boquet from a Lady, - - - - 26 
 
 Lines to Miss , 27 
 
 Lines to , . 27 
 
 Temperance Song, - 28 
 
 The Psalmist, 29 
 
 Mars Hill, 30 
 
 Religion, - 31 
 
 The feelings of my heart, 32 
 
Vlll CONTENTS. 
 
 Page. 
 
 On receiving a Rose from a Lady, 33 
 
 To Miss , - - - . -^ - - 35 
 
 The Sabbath, - - --.'.. 35 
 
 Happiness, - - 36 
 
 Temperance and Missionary Star, - - - - 36 
 
 Fare thee well, - - ----- 38 
 
 Lines, - - - 39 
 
 The Sabbath, - 40 
 
 Just before the death of Gen. Jackson, . - . 41 
 
 Lines for a Lady's Album, - 42 
 
 Mount Sinai, - - 43 
 
 Satan, after his defeat by Michael, - - - - - 43 
 
 Apollyon's Journey, - - - - - - 45 
 
 Lines, - - - 4*7 
 
 In the morning of life, - 48 
 
 Last night I saw, in the land above - - - - 49 
 
 Angel Visits, - - 50 
 
 Along life's weary journey, - - - - - - 53 
 
 The first tear in Paradise, - 54 
 
 On the death of a young Lady, 55 
 
 Lines To , - - ----- 56 
 
 The Geographician, - - 58 
 
 Lines, - - - ----- 60 
 
 They say in tlie East there's a beautiful stream, - - 61 
 
 That star may glitter e'er so bright, - - - - 63 
 
 I've heard of a beautiful land, - - - . - 64 
 
 To , 65 
 
 To an Old Friend, - - 66 
 
 Beauty's farewell and return, - 67 
 
 Poets in heaven, - - 68 
 
 Rainbow, - - 69 
 
 The last Rose of Summer, - 10 
 
 I've thought with hopeless sorrow, - - - - 71 
 
 Forget me not, - - ----- 72 
 
 Lines on the death of an aged member of the church, - 73 
 
 To Henry, - - - - - - 74 
 
 Winter is gone, - - 75 
 
CONTENTS. IX 
 
 Page. 
 
 To , - * 76 
 
 The Temperance Spring, 78 
 
 Amicitia, 79 
 
 The Twin Comets of 1846, 80 
 
 John xiv, 1 — 3, 81 
 
 The Poet's Ideal, 83 
 
 A smile, -----_. 84 
 
 A Prayer, 85 
 
 To a Faded Flower, - - - . - - 86 
 
 For Miss , -------87 
 
 The Polish Revolution, 87 
 
 To: ' 89 
 
 To Anna, 90 
 
 May-Day, - - 90 
 
 On receiving a Flower, 92 
 
 John XV, 12th verse, --93 
 
 The N'otice, 94 
 
 The night I asked her to be mine, 95 
 
 ^stas Temperantiee, 96 
 
 To Mss , --..-_. 98 
 
 Revelation xix, 13 — 14, -------99 
 
 To Edward, - - - - - . - 100 
 
 To Miss , 101 
 
 I know there is a brighter land, 102 
 
 To , 103 
 
 There is no God, - 104 
 
 The heavenly recognition, ------ 106 
 
 The Twins, 107 
 
 Lines written on the Sunflower, - - - - - 108 
 
 Love, 109 
 
 Lines, 110 
 
 To , 113 
 
 On the death of my nephew, 114 
 
 The flower that bloomed on the wild sea shore, - - 115 
 
 When nature drew her pencil forth, - - - - 116 
 
 To , 116 
 
 When beauty wove a wreath of smiles, - - - 117 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Paqe. 
 
 The Flower of Hope, - - - - - - 118 
 
 To my friend, - 119 
 
 Lines, 120 
 
 To her I love, - ----- 121 
 
 Oh ! -will you go with me, love ? - - - - 123 
 
 Thoughts of thee, - - - - - - 123 
 
 Oh, let me live 'mid flowers, - - - - - 124 
 
 Sic Vertice Cceli Constitet.— jEneid, I, 225, - - 125 
 
 Oh, would that I were happy, - - - - 127 
 
 But he could not be hid, - 128 
 
 To , 129 
 
 Thoughts of the beautiful, - 129 
 
 Written on hearing of 's indisposition, - - - 131 
 
 Forget thee! - - - . - - 132 
 
 My home, - _ - - - . 133 
 
 They say that in a forest wild, - - - * - 135 
 
 To , 136 
 
 Lines, - . . - - - isY 
 
 Oh, Isabella, when the sunset, - - - - -138 
 
 On the death of a chUd, 139 
 
 Lines, - - . _ - - 141 
 
 There is an hour when sunlight fades, _ - . . 142 
 
 I would that on some lovely Isle, .... 144 
 
 Thy name was once a magic spell, - - - - 145 
 
 A Summer's Morning, - 145 
 
 " Once more, who would not be a boy, - - - - 147 
 
 I saw thee but an hour, - 148 
 
 I sing to thee again, Ada, - 149 
 
 A Pilgrimage, - 150 
 
 To a Friend, - 152 
 
 Oh ! shall I never meet again, - - - - - 154 
 
 That lingering ray of beauty, 155 
 
 Dreams, - 156 
 
 To a Lady of , - 167 
 
 An Autumn evening, - - - - - - 158 
 
 1 dreamed that thou wer't by my side, - - - - 159 
 
 Home, - 160 
 
CONTENTS. Xl 
 
 Paqk. 
 
 To a young bride, - - - . . . 162 
 
 To , 164 
 
 I stand upon the shore of a boundless sea, - - - 165 
 
 Again my saddened harp I string, - - - - 166 
 
 I loved, in youth's impulsive morn, - - - - 16*7 
 
 It cannot be that beauty's looks, - - - - - 168 
 
 Thou comest to me yet, 'mid the dreams of the night, - 169 
 FareweU to Summer, - - ----170 
 
 To the Rose, - - .... 171 
 
 They tell me of a distant world, - - - - -1*72 
 
 To Ada, - - .... 173 
 
 To the South, - - . . . - 1Y4 
 
 'Tis at the silent noon of night, - .* - . . 175 
 
 Thy Beauty, - . .... 177 
 
 For an Album, - - .... 177 
 
 Lines, written on the Tennessee River, - - . . 178 
 
 To Charleston, . - - . - . 179 
 
PRICE'S POEMS. 
 
 ROBERT AND ADELA, 
 
 Come, Poet, tune your mystic lyre, 
 And sing a song of love, 
 In strains of wild, poetic fire- 
 As those they sing above. 
 
 In " olden times," on Scotia's Isle— 
 That land of ancient bards. 
 Where Heroes, Sages, Patriots, men 
 That graced fair Adelande, — 
 There lived a monarch, worthy of 
 A golden diadem. 
 
 A noble son of high renown, 
 Majestic, firm and bold — 
 Oh ! would a better destiny 
 Of Robert could be told — 
 But history will not let me shroud 
 1 
 
ROBERT AND ADELA. 
 
 The facts so widely known, 
 
 Without a brief apology 
 
 For fiction, when its grown. 
 
 Lord Robert, once a visit paid 
 
 To a Mend, on England's shore, 
 
 Attended by a retinue 
 
 As in the days of yore ; 
 
 The castle rang, both night and day, 
 
 With joyous music loud, 
 
 And courtly knights, and lords and counts. 
 
 Before fan- ladies bowed. 
 
 Ah ! many a glance of fair blue eyes. 
 
 And blush of rosy cheeks, 
 
 And elder matrons hailed him 
 
 As Lord of Northern peaks ; — 
 
 In vain they use each coquette art, 
 
 And strive on every hand. 
 
 From England's beauties, wealth, and arts, 
 
 He turned to Scotia's land ; 
 
 The time arrived for him to go, 
 
 And, with a cheerful mind. 
 
 To gain again his happy home. 
 
 And England leave behind. 
 
 Three days, o'er hill and vale, he went, 
 
 Nor danger thought at hand, 
 
 'Till, on the evening of the fourth, 
 
 He viewed his native land — 
 
ROBERT AND ADELA. 
 
 When lo ! in front, some Scottish Earls,— 
 
 His uncle in command — 
 
 And Robert forward went, to meet, 
 
 He thought, a peaceful band 
 
 Oh ! that Ambition e'er should be 
 
 The cause of such vile treachery 
 
 Those who have read of Scottish Earls— 
 The deadly feud of then- clans — 
 May well suppose the dreadful fray 
 That came 'tween the kiniHan's bands ; 
 But Robert, with his little band. 
 Could not against such odds contend, 
 And soon, before his uncle's force, 
 He and his braver few must bend. 
 Straight to his uncle's castle, strong, 
 They bore him to his prisoned home ; 
 Shut out from all the earth ; and hope, 
 Might only in his fancy roam : 
 Condemned by famine's awful pangs, 
 To waste a life so young and fr-ee. 
 No human form to ope his cell, 
 Nor scarce a ray of light to see. 
 But always he was not alone, 
 Within this dark and gloomy place ; 
 For even here, mid despot's power, 
 Would woman show her lovely face. 
 His keepers wondered why it was 
 
ROBERT AND ADELA. 
 
 That without food he lived so long ; 
 Here, history tells what does afford 
 The substance for the poet's song. 
 
 Twelve months before, while wandering round 
 
 His uncle's wide domain, 
 
 A damsel fair he spied one eve, 
 
 Of queenly, graceful mein. 
 
 Before the time arrived that he 
 
 Had left his i^cle's land, 
 
 He'd plighted her his fortune, and 
 
 His fame, his heart and hand. 
 
 She now, by proxy, learned his fate, 
 
 And strove, with all her power. 
 
 To alleviate his sufferings. 
 
 And cheer him every hour. 
 
 His cell was close her father's door, 
 
 A chinque was in the wall. 
 
 And daily, cakes she brought him, 
 
 Well wi-apped beneath her shawl. 
 
 For ten long days he thus lived on, 
 
 Fresh strength he gained still, 
 
 Until his keepers thought him weak, 
 
 And left him at his will. 
 
 One lonely night, before Hesp6r 
 
 Was dimmed by morning light, 
 
 He and his sweet Adela, had 
 
WILD FLOWERS. 
 
 On horses taken flight. 
 
 In vain were they pursued by all 
 
 Of Alban's fleetest horse ; 
 
 Before they even heard of them, 
 
 They were the fii'st across 
 
 On May's sweet and heaving isle. 
 
 They lived of trouble clear, 
 
 And spent then- days in love and peace, 
 
 And went to heaven from there. 
 
 WILD FLOWERS. 
 
 While wandering through a forest wild, 
 
 At noon, a lonesome hour, 
 I saw beneath the branches piled, 
 
 A lovely, blooming flower. 
 It reared its beauteous head beneath 
 
 The coarser of the earth. 
 And though it scarcely 'scaped the heath, 
 
 It blossomed like joyous mirth. 
 An emblem bright it was of you, 
 
 Among earth's coarser lot ; 
 I knew no name, and so in lieu, 
 
 Called it " forget you not." 
 
 1* 
 
TO MISS J- 
 
 TO MISS J- 
 
 The morn's fair beams were trembling 
 On Flora's lovely head, 
 And wbile tbey were tbere quivering, 
 Sweet Flora's spirit said : 
 You should not beam upon me, 
 But cast your every ray 
 Upon a fau'er object — 
 That object is Miss — . 
 He threw his beams on chrystals 
 That dazzled in the streams, 
 But they returned the echo : 
 Unworthy of your beams. 
 For all your beams should glitter, 
 In concentrated ray. 
 Upon some lovely angel ; 
 That angel is Miss — . 
 It fell on rosy gardens, 
 Where flowers bloomed so bright, 
 And angels loved to wander, 
 Beneath the moon's soft light. 
 But rose, and heath, and flower. 
 In unison would say : 
 Your rays, so bright, should glitter 
 Alone upon Miss — . 
 
TO MISS F. 
 
 TO MISS F. 
 
 Long, long shall I remember, 
 
 My days of gladsome glee ; 
 Long, long shall I remember, 
 
 The hours I've spent with thee. 
 For when my heart was dreary, 
 
 And no bright futm-e came, 
 And when my mind was weary, 
 
 With a worn-out frame, 
 'Twas then I heard your voice 
 
 Dispel each gloomy care ; 
 And then I knew my choice, 
 
 And held it still more dear. 
 And oft, in thought's lone hour, 
 
 My memory brings to light — = 
 Reflection's magic power 
 
 Arrays before my sight, 
 Time when I nothing knew, 
 
 No joy, no happiness, 
 No joy but what was felt by you ; 
 
 No hope but what you'd bless, 
 No smile but what the hallo'd beams 
 
 Would rest around my brow ; 
 No thought of futm-e pleasm-e, but — 
 
 My knowing you'd allow ; 
 And each bright futui'c came arrayed 
 
LIFE. 
 
 In pleasant hope's attire, 
 Eacli coming hour hope's fruit displayed, 
 
 And freshened love's desire. 
 No other's smile, no other's voice, 
 
 Can warm my saddened heart 
 Like love's long loved, selected choice — 
 
 "With her I cannot part. 
 Oh ! no ; that smile must once more reign 
 
 Upon that brow of thine. 
 And that sweet voice must once again 
 
 Respond in love to mine. 
 Then hasten by each wearied hour. 
 
 Deal roughly not with me ; 
 For I have felt love's magic power, 
 
 Reechoed here from thee. 
 
 LIFE. 
 
 This life is like the rainbow's hue, 
 Its gilded colors while we see ; 
 But like the skill of the wild curlew. 
 When saihng o'er a darkened sea, 
 Betokening but the wild wave's power. 
 The sorrows of the coming hour. 
 
ABSENCE. 
 
 Lonely, lonesome, sad and dreary, 
 
 Far away from old Cokesbiiry. 
 
 F . . . . 's gone, and L , . . . too, 
 
 What, alas ! will Charley do ? 
 
 This I'll do, while rain is pattering, 
 
 Hail upon the house top clattering ; 
 
 My heart, so full of warm affection, 
 
 "Will fondly think of love's selection, 
 
 Will think of bright and sweet-spent hours 
 
 Beneath Miss F . . . . 's floral bowers. 
 
 And shall those scenes, again renewed, 
 
 Along life's pathway joys be strewed ? 
 
 Yes, yes, those hours shall come again, 
 
 And I shall hear love's music strain. 
 
 When Vesper sheds her fainting rays 
 
 Far o'er the Pyi'enees. 
 
 'Tis then that France's shepherds come 
 
 To dance beneath the trees. 
 
 Yes, shepherds, mid your joyous throng, 
 
 In orient's beauteous vale, 
 
 Could I but mingle with you once, 
 
 And view the far-off sail. 
 
 Could I once view the mazy dance, 
 
 The waltz, the gallopade, 
 
 Could I but pass an hour with you, 
 
 While resting in the shade. 
 
10 HOPE. 
 
 Then could I hear thy tinkling bells, 
 Thy far off flocks espy ; 
 Oh ! France, if pleasure can be found, 
 It is beneath your sky. 
 But would that in that happy land 
 Chat Jesus's name was known : 
 Oh ! would that in that beauteous land, 
 The seed of peace was sown. 
 December 5th, 1845. 
 
 HOPE. 
 
 'Tis hope, the magic anchor, that bears the soul aloft ; 
 'Tis hope that sustains the feelings fine and soft. 
 In the bottom of Pandora's box, it 'scaped the I'avage there 
 Indeed, it was the best of all, for it brightens Avith the wear. 
 'Tis hope that sustains the soul through many a fiery blast, 
 'Tis hope that sustains the soul, till trial's hour is past. 
 The traveller while wending 'long his solitary way, 
 Is encouraged as he goes along to trust and still to pray ; 
 'Tis hope that bears the Christian up though sorrow crowd 
 
 around, 
 The chart to guide him safely through grief's dark and desert 
 
 ground. 
 
11 
 
 LOVE'S FANCIED HEAVEN. 
 
 One beautiful spring morn, when heaven's drapery hung 
 
 With blue bright curtains, and Paradise birds sung, 
 
 Young Love set out o'er ocean's blue and sailed to gain her 
 
 prize, 
 Young Beauty accompanied her on her way to Paradise. 
 Fair winds soon wafted Fancy's ship far off the shores of time, 
 And every thing sat fair for them to gain their fancied clime. 
 But Love's first step is on the rose, her second finds the thorn, 
 Alas ! that Beauty thus was doomed before she pass'd the 
 
 morn. 
 The storm raged on in fury still, but Truth came to their aid, 
 Before the sun meridian gained the storm was calmly laid. 
 Swift o'er the waves with studded sails bright Fancy's ship 
 
 went on. 
 They gained their Paradise and viewed the far-stretched rosy 
 
 lawn. 
 'Tis here that Love and Beauty dwell on this green heaving 
 
 shore, 
 'Tis here that better souls must dwell and love forevermore. 
 
12 PSALM III. 
 
 PSALM III. 
 
 Lord, how increased my troubles are ; 
 
 My foes against me rise ; 
 
 But, Lord, thou art a shield for me 
 
 That always will suffice. 
 
 To thee, oh ! Lord, I hfted up 
 
 My voice and bowed my will, 
 
 And thou my cry didst hear, oh ! Lord, 
 
 Down from thy holy hill. 
 
 I laid me down and slept secure 
 
 Beneath the shades of night ; 
 
 I waked, for thou sustained me. Lord, 
 
 And rose with morning light. 
 
 I'll never fear though murderous hosts 
 
 Of trials fence me in, 
 
 The Lord mine enemies shall smite 
 
 With those that live in sin. 
 
 Oh ! let me to thy name ascribe 
 
 To thee what doth belong; 
 
 Oh ! let salvation ever be 
 
 The burden of my song. 
 
DARLINGTON. 13 
 
 TO REV. A. G. S*****. 
 The time will soon come for us to be parted, 
 By sadness oppressed, and near broken-hearted ; 
 But fi-iendship so lasting in the wide field of thought, 
 Together so oft our minds will be brought. 
 Oh ! sweet be the meeting through fancy, the bearer, 
 And happy am I that in it I'm a sharer. 
 Then when o'er the wide field of fancy you 've wandered, 
 And each tie to terra has long since been sundered, 
 Let the tablet of memory show friendship unending. 
 And these lines a memento that friendship defending. 
 And when midst the flowers of life's thorny pathway. 
 Each zephyr comes loaded with pleasures bright ray, 
 From each bright oasis round love's flowery cot, 
 Send the bud of aftection, a "forget-me-not." 
 1845. 
 
 DARLINGTON. 
 
 Farewell to old Darlington's time-honored glades, 
 Farewell to old Black Creek, with its sweet summer shades ; 
 Had fortune but smiled, and not forced me away, 
 I could always have lived, and with thee would stay : 
 But the pain of our parting is lessened so much, 
 That ten months of time it seems but a touch. 
 2 
 
14 COKESBURY. 
 
 Oh ! Darlington and Black Creek, I love ye, 'tis true, 
 I honor thy shades and thy Heaven so blue ; 
 But a bright star that flits on thy horizon's sky, 
 With it could I live, and for it would I die. 
 
 COKESBURY. 
 
 Romantic hills, sweet gliding glades, 
 
 They speak of love and hope. 
 
 While beauty bright lives in their shades 
 
 On Cokesbury's hilly slope. . 
 
 On beauty's brow, a sparkling gem, 
 
 That's decked with brighter none, 
 
 A geographical diadem, 
 
 Surpassing Orion. 
 
 Still dearer are they people, C— , 
 
 Than thy romantic glades, 
 
 Thy walks beneath embow'ring trees 
 
 At eve, when sunlight fades. 
 
LINES ON THE DEATH OP A CLASSMATE. 15 
 
 LINES ON THE DEATH OF A CLASSMATE— T. E. A. 
 
 Farewell ! 'tis not I love thee less, 
 
 That smiles come o'er my face ; 
 
 'Tis not because I e'er shall find 
 
 Another in thy place. 
 
 How many hours in love we've spent ; 
 
 How oft in converse sweet ; 
 
 How many blessings have we found, 
 
 When sought at Jesus' feet ? 
 
 How often have we watched the moon, 
 
 And caught each silver ray, 
 
 And felt, soft falling o'er our hearts. 
 
 Sweet music's touching lay. 
 
 Yet, I those memories forego, 
 
 No more to come again, 
 
 And I with Stoic-like resolve. 
 
 From sorrow's tear refrain. 
 
 For well I know that when earth's scenes 
 
 Have faded from thine eye. 
 
 Thy spirit shall with Jesus be 
 
 In dazzling courts on high. 
 
 For like the angel in the sun, 
 
 Whose path formed splendors bright, 
 
 So is thy spirit's heavenward course, 
 
 Through realms of endless light. 
 
 Farewell ! our parting shall not cause 
 
16 FAME. 
 
 Or give my spirit pain, 
 
 For well I know that our loss 
 
 Is thy eternal gain. 
 
 Farewell, farewell, my brother, friend, 
 
 In glory thou shalt reign, 
 
 Farewell ! in brighter lands than these, 
 
 There we shall meet again. 
 
 FAME 
 
 " And is it all !" said a noble youth, 
 
 Who had felt stern fortune's blast ; 
 
 " I thought I'd reach fame's dizzy height, 
 
 But missed my hold at last." 
 
 That youth had toiled through many an hour, 
 
 To scale fair science's wall ; 
 
 He gained the summit, looked around. 
 
 Then sighed, " And is this all ?" 
 
 Napoleon took three mighty steps — 
 
 Europe, Africa, Asia — 
 
 Cast from the dizzy heights one glance, 
 
 And died in Helena. 
 
 The noblest feelings of the heart 
 
 Have oft been sacrificed, 
 
 And fame, a sheer delusion is, 
 
 When it is analysed. 
 
LINES. 
 
 17 
 
 LINES 
 
 WRITTEN WHILE IN COLLEGE, BY ORDER OF REV. J. DAMULY, 
 ONE OF THE TRUSTEES. 
 
 Agreeably to your request, I wooed the honest muse ; 
 
 'Tis quicker said than it is done. The subject which you 
 
 choose 
 Is one which oft, in times gone by, has cost me trouble gi-eat, 
 But bowed I to its stern decree, as heroes bow to fate ; 
 For oft when I was cold and chill, and by the fire I sat 
 My chair, o'erturned and down I fell upon the floor, " right 
 
 flat." 
 And oft petition went from me, and from my room-mate too, 
 To have the hearth with bricks repaired, and made again 
 
 quite new ; 
 But all availed us not " a cent :" the hearth it was not laid, 
 Nor once toward repairing, a single brick was made. 
 But bullets we could have them made, and roll them every 
 
 day, 
 And good we thought this exercise, this kind of rolhng play. 
 But now the days have passed away, the Trustees have come 
 
 round. 
 And they a bad old broken hearth, and rolling bullets found. 
 Thus I yom- hard command obeyed, 
 And bullets, broken hearths, essayed. 
 
 2* 
 
18 TO MISS — . 
 
 Dear maid, thy charms have stole my heaTt, 
 
 A wily captive to thee given ; 
 
 Oh ! would you only let me choose, 
 
 I'd serve but thee, and yon bright heaven. 
 
 Oh ! had we never met, dear girl, 
 Oh ! had we never met ; 
 I cannot bear the idea 
 Of our parting yet 
 
 Yet, yet, I know that we must part, 
 But we shall meet again ; 
 Oh ! could I then that heavenly boon, 
 I've ever sought, obtain. 
 
 TO MISS 
 
 Dear should heaven create again, 
 
 And effort make to please. 
 It never, never could contain 
 An object that I so much love, 
 An object I'd esteem above. 
 
 Averse to flattery's evil tongue — 
 T tell the reason why — 
 
TO MISS — — , 
 
 Of all the fair I've mixed among 
 
 I've never found one so sweet, so good, 
 
 For others give thee, ne'er I would. 
 
 Oh ! could I claim some humble place 
 Within that heart of thine ; 
 Such pleasure could I but embrace, 
 My soul would ne'er be dark again ; 
 I'd never sing a pensive strain. 
 
 Deem not that these few transient lines 
 
 A sketch of Fancy is ; 
 
 Oh no, they were drawn from love's deep mines 
 
 From a heart that's truly dear, thine own, 
 
 From a heart that's truly dear, thine own. 
 
 But doomed to pine ; oh, can it be, 
 It chills my heart to think ; 
 But still I'll think there's hope for me. 
 This sweet delusion ; may it be 
 Confirmed to a reality. 
 
 19 
 
 I gaze upon the careless crowd 
 Of youth as they flit by. 
 And think how many are, alas, 
 
20 TO MISS ^— . 
 
 Yet unprepared to die. 
 
 But deatli will come witli rapid sweep, 
 
 And young and old must fall ; 
 
 The stout, the strong, the well, the sick, 
 
 Are summoned by his call. 
 
 Eternity with all its hours 
 
 Hangs on this inch of time, 
 
 Whether we live in deepest wo, 
 
 Or range a heavenly clime. 
 
 How careful then ought we to live ; 
 
 How earnestly to plead ; 
 
 Oh, what a field the Christian has 
 
 To sow his heavenly seed. 
 
 Still may it bring its hundred fold, 
 
 And none be trampled down ; 
 
 May it from earth transplanted be 
 
 To Canaan's happier ground. 
 
 Oh, tell me not that hours more bright 
 
 On earth's dull, thorny way. 
 
 Await me, than I once have seen 
 
 Beneath sweet music's lay ; 
 
 But they have passed and with them fled 
 
 The ones which I so love. 
 
 And I am left ; but not despaired, 
 
 For I will look above. 
 
 Yes, I will storm proud fame's fortress ; 
 
TO MISS . 21 
 
 • 
 
 Its lofty ramparts scale, 
 
 And bind decision's armour on, 
 
 Its helmet, coat and mail. 
 
 Yes, I will make each languid toil 
 
 A pleasant pastime-play, 
 
 And each strong trial's crested wave 
 
 Shall form a lovely spray. 
 
 And when the world in one combined, 
 
 My destiny shall sing, 
 
 My garland for, in sportive twist, 
 
 I'll weave the lightning's wing. 
 
 I'll watch the clouds, and trace the stars j 
 
 And mark the comet's course, 
 
 And little heed dame fortune's blast, 
 
 Or fear the wild wind's force ; 
 
 But in each conquest I shall make, 
 
 O'er nature, earth, or sky, 
 
 Forever shall my praises speak 
 
 The power that dwells on high ; 
 
 Forever shall I intercede 
 
 His ever favoring hand, 
 
 To guide me from terrestial fame 
 
 To lame's celestial land. 
 
22 love's first step. 
 
 LOVE'S FIRST STEP, &c. 
 
 It was a lady young and fair 
 That sang this lovely song ; 
 It seemed as if her heavenly mind 
 Had never known what's wrong. 
 I heard her sing it first at home, 
 Beneath the rosy moon, 
 Love's first step is upon the rose, 
 Its second finds the thorn. 
 
 ^ Years after, 'neath a sunny sky, 
 
 With face still fair and bright. 
 While an angel smile bedecked her lips, 
 Oh, 'twas a lovely sight — 
 She sang as softly zephyr sighed, 
 In sweetness o'er the lawn, 
 Love's first step is upon the rose, 
 Its second finds the thorn. 
 
 I heard her sing that song again, 
 
 In disappointment's hour. 
 
 With clouded, but majestic brow, 
 
 Beneath a shaded bower. 
 
 She sang, and from her heavenly mind 
 
 Those pensive strains were drawn, 
 
PASSING AWAY. 23 
 
 Love's first step is upon tnerosie, 
 Its second finds the thorn. 
 
 When next I heard her sing that song, 
 
 Her lovely prattlers by, 
 
 I saw the tear of joy steal 
 
 Within that sweet blue eye. 
 
 She sang, and as she sang she thought 
 
 Of that Elysian lawn, 
 
 Where love e'er steps on roses sweet 
 
 And never finds a thorn. 
 
 PASSING AWAY. 
 
 On every thing of nature's work, 
 
 That is by " mortal" smitten. 
 
 On every matter, deep inscribed, 
 
 Passing away is written. 
 
 Man, though he Hves and never thinks 
 
 That he'll by death be stricken. 
 
 On his majestic, lofty brow, 
 
 Passing away is written. 
 
 And riches ere so dearly prized, 
 
 With men by lucre smitten, 
 
24 SPRING. 
 
 » 
 
 Indelibly on them 'tis proved, 
 Passing away is wi'itten. 
 
 SPRING. 
 
 How charming, how divinely sweet, 
 
 Enchanting, rapturous spring, 
 
 Sweet flowers, sweet birds, enchanted scenes, 
 
 And pleasure, too, you bring. 
 
 All nature in her glorious garb, 
 
 With magic charms enforce, 
 
 And heaven around her mantle flings, 
 
 Beside the river's course. 
 
 But oh, what makes it doubly dear, 
 
 This wild and brightsome shore, 
 
 'Tis thy sweet presence 'mid its light, 
 
 What could earth wish for more. 
 
 Oh ! nature, mighty work of God ! 
 
 Arrayed in Heavenly robe. 
 
 With mantle fresh from Flora's loom, 
 
 Enwraps this fertile globe. 
 
 Were one bright being no more to be 
 
 On yon, dull world of sorrow, 
 
 I too would wish to leave your shores 
 
 Before the dawn of morrow. 
 
LOVED ONES. 25 
 
 LOVED ONES. 
 
 How happy 'tis, while here below, 
 
 With those we love to be, 
 
 How sweet the joy that's felt by us 
 
 When " loved ones" we do see. 
 
 Yet " loved ones" we do know must part, 
 
 While in this vale of tears, 
 
 Yet " loved ones" we do know shall meet 
 
 Beyond this vale of cares. 
 
 Perhaps some " loved ones" far above, 
 
 In Heaven's ethereal cFme, 
 
 May round our beds in silence watch, 
 
 In night's still quiet time. 
 
 Oh ! loved one, for you're loved by me, 
 
 In passion's deepest strain. 
 
 For you alone, for you I live, 
 
 I live but you to gain. 
 
 " THE DREAM IS PAST." 
 
 The dream is past, yes, love's sweet dream 
 Has faded like a rainbow's gleam. 
 And fading hope's last glittering ray 
 Is wasting like the lingering day. 
 3 
 
26 ON RECEIVING A BOaUET FROM A LADY. 
 
 " They say that absence conquers love," 
 'Tis wrong, 'tis wrong ye powers above, 
 My love for her is stronger now 
 Than when I kissed her classic brow. 
 'Tis fadeless love within my heart, 
 My soul with it shall never part, 
 For I shall live to love the one 
 I loved when first my love begun. 
 
 ON RECEIVING A BOQUET FROM A LADY. 
 
 Those flowers, I'll keep them near my heart, 
 
 As cherished mementoes, 
 
 With them, indeed, I ne'er will part ; 
 
 I'll keep them as a lover's chart. 
 
 And when on them I look, I'll think 
 
 Of thee, and only thee. 
 
 And if I'm destined — can it be — 
 
 My hope will not think so, 
 
 But should it be, while far — of thee 
 
 I'll think with deep serenity, 
 
 I'll press them to my heart and think 
 
 Of thee, and only thee. 
 
LINES TO 37 
 
 LINES TO MISS 
 
 Ah, say not we shall meet no more, 
 
 That I shall no more hear 
 
 That voice not cloaked with classic lore, 
 
 But sounds to me so dear. 
 
 Oh, could I see that smile 
 
 Upon that classic brow, 
 
 How sweet away the hours would while ; 
 
 Methinks I see it now. 
 
 Oh, linger long sweet dream of joy, 
 
 Disperse not soon away. 
 
 For round my soul without alloy, 
 
 You weave love's cheering ray ; 
 That ray shall bear love's last request, 
 That you. Miss , would make me blest. 
 
 LINES TO 
 
 c 
 
 May joy e'er hover o'er thy path ; 
 May sorrow never dim thy joy ; 
 And when in solitude's soft hour, 
 When he is absent from thy mind, 
 Then think of me ! 
 Of owe, whose heart alone was thine 1 
 Of one who loves as few can love, 
 
28 TEMPERANCE SONG. 
 
 And wlio loved only thee ! 
 
 My heart, a shattered wreck ! 
 Poor sacrifice to make to him 
 Who never changed — who loves on still. 
 Oh, let me serve thy word and bow 
 To disappointment's will. 
 May resignation's peaceful hand 
 My troubles calm — my woes appease— 
 Which are not soothed by thee. 
 
 I e'er shall love thee, though, 
 As few can love, as none have loved : 
 My heart shall ever be thine own, 
 Though driven from its home. 
 I'll live throughout this world of sorrow, 
 And think of thee, and not expect 
 That thou wilt ever think of me. 
 A poor neglected wanderer. 
 
 Stern fortune frowns the while. 
 
 TEMPERANCE SONG. 
 
 Hear the marshal sound, 
 See the banner flying ; 
 Guard the temperance ground, 
 Hear the heralds crying, 
 
THE PSALMIST. 29 
 
 Long may the star spangled T — banner wave, 
 
 O'er the land of the fi-ee, and the home of the brave 1 
 
 Drunkards we invite you, , 
 
 Tipplers ye may come, 
 Moderate drams and few 
 Votaries of rum. 
 Long may the star spangled, <fec. 
 
 Come all of every station, 
 We ask without a choice ; 
 Come all of every nation, 
 And shout with temperance voice. 
 Long may the star spangled, &c. 
 
 Our ranks they thicken fast ; 
 Old Alcohol is weak ; 
 Temperance, 'twill succeed at last, 
 When happiness we seek. 
 Long may the star spangled, &c. 
 
 THE PSALMIST. 
 
 Sweet singer of Israel ! come touch a master strain, 
 Like when you went to Babylon ; oh, tune your lyre again 1 
 3* 
 
30 MARS HILL. 
 
 Those sweet encbanting strains with deep devotion fraught, 
 As when on mount Moriah, the house of God you sought. 
 And do n't forget to sing the mighty power of God, 
 .Who drove the sea's dark waters back with potent rod ; 
 And tell his mighty thunderings on Sinai's rugged hill, 
 When the awful mountain trembled and God made known 
 his will. 
 
 MARS HILL. 
 
 What means this mighty concourse 
 Assembled on the mighty hill of Mars, 
 A mixture strange — of deep Philosophers 
 And Plebeans — rich and poor. 
 While all around the lofty towers raised 
 Their loftier tops, high up towards the stars. 
 
 Strange multitude — still stranger thoughts, 
 
 That ruled the mighty Greeks. 
 
 " Ye men of Athens ; as I passed 
 
 Along your streets, I saw 
 
 An altar to the unknown God ; 
 
 Strange thing I thought it was ; 
 
 Yet, him, I preach. Though foolishness 
 
 To you his law may seem. 
 
 Yet wondrous wise and full of love ; 
 
RELIGION. 81 
 
 'Tis life, and joy, and peace." 
 
 Philosophy's bright sun has set, 
 
 And darkness crowns this hill. 
 
 The " unknown God," He now is known, 
 
 x\nd understood His will. 
 
 RELIGION. 
 
 When God had driven man away 
 
 From Eden's land of love. 
 
 An angel passed with glittering ray, 
 
 Descending from above. 
 
 Religion was that angel's name, 
 
 His home high up in Heaven, 
 
 Eternal love, it was his aim. 
 
 To man on earth be given. 
 
 His spirit blessed man's onward course. 
 
 From dark to darker scenes, 
 
 Fu'st by a firm, then weaker force, 
 
 Then sad and fitful gleams. 
 
 But love for man's poor dying race, 
 
 Oh, wondrous love was this. 
 
 This love compelled redeeming grace 
 
 To leave its home of bliss. 
 
 On Calvary's awful mount he stood, 
 
32 THE FEELINGS OF MY HEART. 
 
 To erring men lie cried, 
 " 'Tis finished — all my work is done " 
 He bowed Ms liead and died. 
 Eternity alone will prove tliat love 
 That brought the Saviour from above. 
 
 THE FEELINGS OF MY HEART. 
 
 My soul is often lowered, 
 
 By sorrow's darkening wave ; 
 
 The thought is often flowered 
 
 By the feeling which it gave. 
 
 I often entertain a thought 
 
 That makes my heart feel sad, 
 
 For I know the feeling which it brought 
 
 Will make me soon feel glad. 
 
 My heart is often shaded 
 
 While thinking on the past, 
 
 On love's bright hopes now faded, 
 
 With disappointment's blast. 
 
 Yet, when in viewing time that's gone, 
 
 A tender chord I touch, 
 
 'Tis then I feel myself alone. 
 
 And know it to be such. 
 
 However sorrowful T feel ; 
 
ON RECEIVING A ROSE FROM A LADY. 33 
 
 Hoi^ever dull my heart ; 
 However sorrow's set its seal, 
 And pierced me with its dart. 
 When thy sweet image flits along ; 
 Yes, when I think of thee, "^ 
 
 My soul breaks forth in rapturous song ; 
 In notes of melody. ^ 
 
 ON RECEIVING A ROSE FROM A LADY. 
 
 'Tis seldom while below 
 That joy thus comes o'er our path, 
 Dear Miss, if on those flowers sweet 
 You breathed one sigh of love, 
 I'd keep them cherished near my heart ; 
 From this sweet flower I ne'er would part, 
 But keep it long and think of you. 
 
 The Rose ; the queen of flowers, 
 Dear emblem, that I have your love, 
 'Tis joy beyond the fondest hope, 
 Its emblem stops not here — but 'tis returned ; 
 You reign the queen o'er my fond heart. 
 The rose in some gay garden a rival it may find, 
 
34 TO MISS 
 
 But none shall ever rival tliee in i)^ true heart of 
 
 thine. 
 Oh ! would you were a flower, 
 A.nd I were Heaven's dew, 
 Then when awaked from sleeping 
 You'd know I lived for you. 
 Would you were yon bright planet, 
 Coursing the ethereal blue. 
 And I a star beside thee, 
 Ever to look at you. 
 Would you were a bright current, 
 With face of azure blue. 
 And I a quivering star beam, 
 Thy waves to glitter through. 
 You are a beauteous flower, 
 Nursed by the moonlight dew. 
 On whose bright fragrant petals, 
 Rise colors ever new. 
 Thou art a star of splendor 
 In love's enamelled sky. 
 And streams of living beauty 
 Flow ever from thine eye. 
 
 m- 
 
THE SABBATH. 36 
 
 TO MISS . 
 
 The gai'ments which clothe my love for you 
 
 Are the clouds which hurry along ; 
 
 The minstrels which sing my love for you, ^ 
 
 Ai*e the brooks of sweetest song. 
 
 The organ that sounds my love for you, 
 
 Is the sound of many waters ; 
 
 The banquet which feeds my love for you 
 
 Is the dew from Heaven's quarters. 
 
 The heroes that guard my love for you 
 
 Are the storms of loudest roaring ; 
 
 The orators which plead my love for you 
 
 Are the thunders — grand adoring. 
 
 We shall meet again, we shall meet again, 
 When time's dark valley is travelled through ; 
 We shall meet again when our Heaven we obtain ; 
 When to time's troublous ocean we bid a long adieu. 
 
 THE SABBATH. 
 
 Sweet day to man 'tis given, 
 
 An emblem holy, gi-and, 
 
 For man to choose the road to Heaven, 
 
 And live at God's right hand. 
 
36 TEMPERANCE AND MISSIONARY STAR. 
 
 HAPPINESS. 
 
 'Tis not upon time's troublous ocean 
 That oui' sails can e'er be unfurled ; 
 For happiness here is not tasted, 
 But gi'ows in the heavenly world. 
 
 TEMPERANCE AND MISSIONARY STAR. 
 
 I beheld, and lo ! 
 
 An angel, high in the courts of heaven, 
 
 • With robes of splendor clothed; 
 
 And lifted up a mighty voice. 
 
 And spoke : " Ye sons of men be free." 
 
 And from his golden censor sprang 
 
 A star- 
 Displaying light of Heaven, 
 
 And coursing high the mural sky, 
 
 Its hght to man was given ; 
 
 Its glorious light changed haggard forms. 
 
 And men, made beasts again. 
 
 And wretched homes, 
 
 Where nought but riot dwelt, 
 
 Were made the homes of love. 
 
TEMPERANCE AND MISSIONARY STAR. 37 
 
 And Satan, he was forced to fly 
 Back to his realms of dark 
 Despair. There, plotting deep, he lived, 
 His compeers round, like once before, he told, 
 The world again is Paradise. 
 I wondered what that star was called ; 
 In great amaze, I saw in letters bright, 
 "The pledge," "The Temperance Star," 
 Scarce had my wonder ceased, 
 When brightened gleams of peace 
 Flew o'er the race of man ; 
 And lands where darkness reigned 
 Grew Hght, and far to north, 
 Where snow-capped hills scarce met 
 A single ray of sun, there rose a mighty shout, 
 Which, echoing o'er the hills of earth, 
 Rang o'er the Pyrenees, far South, 
 To lands where lie oceans of burning sand. 
 All, all the world, alive was made, 
 By its all heahng beams. 
 Peace, splendor, love, sublimer deeds 
 Of moral grandeur reigned, 
 And round each land, 
 
 That one loved beam of this bright star enclosed, 
 Formed bright halos around. 
 I gazed and wondered still much more, 
 And heard an anguished spirit say : 
 4 
 
FARE THEE WELL. 
 
 " The battlements of heaven, 
 We, alas, can never scale." 
 And each bright land exclaimed, 
 Hail glorious star, thrice hail. 
 The Missionary Star." 
 
 FARE THEE WELL. 
 
 Fake thee well, my love, and yet 
 It grieves, it grieves my heart. 
 But Fate's determined, I must yield, 
 Alas ! that we must part. 
 Where'er I rove o'er this wild waste, 
 Where'er the place may be, 
 Forever, on my heart enstamped, 
 Thy image, love, shall be. 
 Although through life a wanderer. 
 And driven far from you, 
 Forever to my pledge I'll be 
 The truest of the true. 
 While on the beauteous Orient maids 
 I cast a lingering look, 
 I'll think of when we parted, 
 And the last long view I took. 
 'Twas but a frown that sent me off 
 
LINES. 
 
 To take the wanderer's track, 
 
 And but a smile from those sweet lips 
 
 Will bring thy wanderer back. 
 
 LINES. 
 
 Ah ! loves bright hopes have faded, 
 
 As mists before the morning, 
 
 And every hope, that's cheered my heart, 
 
 Has left without adorning : 
 
 The heart that is thine own, my love, 
 
 The heart that is thine own. 
 
 My heart was clothed in fancy bright, 
 
 When once I thought you loved me, 
 
 But when my heart was undeceived. 
 
 How much the more I loved thee. 
 
 From the heart that was thine own, my love, 
 
 From the heart that was thine own. 
 
 That love shall e'er keep growing, 
 
 While memory sits enthroned. 
 
 And on my heart, enduring. 
 
 It e'er shall be ensconced. 
 
 On earth, I'll ne'er be happy. 
 
 While fortune frowns severe. 
 
 But, beyond this world of sorrow. 
 
40 THE SABBATH. 
 
 When I thy side am near, 
 
 In your sweet thoughts, e'en there, 
 
 I hope to have a share. 
 
 " THE SABBATH." 
 
 Hail sacred day, sweet day of rest, 
 
 On earth, to men 'tis given, 
 
 An emblem of the day above ; 
 
 Of the eternal Heaven. 
 
 The sun so nobly, brightly rose, 
 
 And gilt fair Sharon's plain ; 
 
 Bursting in rays, divinely sweet, 
 
 O'er little, wondrous Nain. 
 
 But as the Orient hills were tinged, 
 
 And sparkled every spray. 
 
 There burst o'er mercy's glorious mount, 
 
 A light — eternal day. 
 
 A voice arose, in mighty tones, 
 
 From dark Gethsemane, 
 
 And cried : " Oh, Death, I've conquered you, 
 
 And man again is free." 
 
 Jerusalem, strange sights did see ; 
 
 A lesson deep was taught ; 
 
 For holy men their graves forsook, 
 
JUST BEFORE THE DEATH OP GEN. JACKSON. 41 
 
 Again their homes they sought. 
 
 'Twas there, indeed, a Saviour rose 
 
 And burst the bars of death. 
 
 And rising to the courts on high, 
 
 Forsook his mortal breath. 
 
 And when all Heaven with praises rang, 
 
 From earth, to climes above, 
 
 Shall we not emulate their song 
 
 Of praise for mercy's love ? 
 
 Hail sacred day ! sweet day of rest, 
 
 On earth, to man, 'tis given. 
 
 An emblem of the day above, 
 
 Of the eternal Heaven. 
 
 JUST BEFORE THE DEATH OF GEN. JACKSON, 
 Hold, grim monster, hold thy dart, 
 Let not time and Jackson part ; 
 Think, oh ! think a little more. 
 Before you strike this gi'eat hero. 
 Hear what Orleans' field will tell, 
 Hear when Cherok' chieftains fell. 
 Hear the " Horse-Shoe" battle ring, 
 Hear his country's voice sing : 
 " Spare, oh death ! if well you can. 
 Spare this greatest, ' more than man !' " 
 
 4* 
 
42 LINES FOR A LADy's ALBUM. 
 
 Death, oli ! sliun tlie Hermitage, 
 Spare the Tennesseean sage ; 
 But if death his work must do, 
 The pains he gives must then be few. 
 His virtues we must emulate. 
 And mourn for his, our certain fate. 
 What if a star from their bright band, 
 Was darkened by high heaven's hand ? 
 What would his sister planets do, 
 But strive to shine alike anew ? 
 
 LINES FOR A LADY'S ALBUM. 
 
 When Cain was driven off, to seek the land of Nod, 
 He went fr'om hope, and joy, beneath the wrath of God ; 
 'Twas just because in that cold land, an Anna dwelt not there 
 If so, 'twould be a land of joy, a lovely sky, and fair. 
 But no ; like me, a wanderer, was driven from her face. 
 And destined ever to abide in some cold and cheerless place; 
 Like me, ah no ; like me, his hope was ne'er again renewed. 
 By looking on that lovely face, he once in pleasure viewed ; 
 But still, with what a cheerful heart, how free I'd bear the 
 
 pain. 
 Could I but enjoy the bhss of seeing you again. 
 
SATAN AFTER HIS DEFEAT BY MICHAEL. 43 
 
 MOUNT SINAI. 
 
 • 
 
 The thunder's awful loom 
 Broke full on Sinai's rugged heights, 
 While lightnings flashed in splendor, 
 Unrivalled, grand, subhmity — 
 Of Israel's great defender. 
 The Jews around Mount Sinai stood, 
 Amazed with trembling fear, 
 They saw the cloud enshroud the Mount, 
 And knew the Lord was near. 
 
 The Jews romid Calvary stood. 
 How different from the Sinaiacle scene ; 
 No thunder loomed from Calvary's brow, 
 No vi\dd lightnings flashed ; 
 Yet, God was suffering there, 
 And Sinai's thunders loomed no more : 
 But in then- place, the voice of Christ, 
 " 'Tis finished ! will not this suffice ?" 
 
 SATAN, AFTER HIS DEFEAT BY MICHAEL. 
 
 Satan stood in his realms of dark. 
 With his compeers standing round, 
 Their ears, anon, saluted with 
 
44 SATAN AFTER HIS DEFEAT BY MICHAEL. 
 
 Hell's deep, horrific sound. 
 
 Above the rest, hade's monarch stood, 
 
 With his burning forehead high, 
 
 He cast a glance, hell trembled far, 
 
 And heaved an awful sigh. 
 
 They knew within that awful eye. 
 
 That sparkled so with fire, 
 
 That some dread purpose kindled there, 
 
 Some base, some foul desu'e. 
 
 Expectant each one bade " be still," 
 
 When far 'bove hell's deep roar, 
 
 This mighty — once Archangel — told 
 
 His power in days of yore. 
 
 How once he ruled in heaven above, 
 
 " Super" by God alone ; 
 
 How, in his angel brightness, then 
 
 Before God's face he shone. 
 
 And now, beneath his direful wrath, 
 
 In misery's home to lie, 
 
 Death would indeed a refuge be, 
 
 But 't will forever fly. 
 
 Revenge, yes, deep revenge, I'll have, 
 
 Though lost to heaven above ; 
 
 Ah ! once I loved forgiveness, free, 
 
 But now revenge I love. 
 
 I once in heaven's council heard 
 
 Earth's mighty maker say, 
 
45 
 
 That world he'd make from chaos lone, 
 
 At no far distant day. 
 
 And in this little far off earth, 
 
 A kind of man he'd place ; 
 
 My purpose is for deep revenge, 
 
 To take this heavenly race. 
 
 And who, among my brave compeers, 
 
 This chaos voyage will take ; 
 
 Or I, shall I the voyage make, 
 
 For deep revenge's sage ? 
 Hell shook — chaos trembled — far, deep and high, 
 When ApoUyon consented through pathless wastes to 
 
 fly. 
 
 APOLLYON'S JOURNEY, 
 
 Apollyon commenced his journey ; 
 
 Arrived at the gates of hell ; 
 
 He went thus far without trouble, 
 
 For he knew the way very well. 
 
 He saw, and his stern soul fluttered, 
 
 As he looked on chaos wide ; 
 
 Revenge was the aim of the spirit. 
 
 And chaos and night he defied. 
 
 Out his dark, sable pinions he stretched, 
 
 Far, far, far away from his home, 
 
 'Till he came to the darkest of kingdoms, 
 
46 apollyon's journey. 
 
 Where the legions of mystery roam. 
 
 Then clothed with his dark, sable mantle, 
 
 With night — his consort of old — 
 
 King Chaos there reigns o'er his mysteries, 
 
 A page of which never is told. 
 
 On the North, his dominions were bounded 
 
 By the world of newest creation ; 
 
 On the South, the dark realm of chaos 
 
 Was bounded by awful damnation. 
 
 There the council of chaos assembled, 
 
 Orcus, and Ades, and Chance, 
 
 Damorgon, Confusion, Discord, 
 
 And Rumor, with tongues to enhance. 
 
 Apollyon with these claimed kindred, 
 
 His business was not to stop there ; 
 
 He wished to go on to a country 
 
 Where the land and the sky were more fair. 
 
 So directions he got from old Chaos, 
 
 And sped for the gate of the world : 
 Of all his deepest, dark designs, against the race of man, 
 Will all be told in the success of Satan's direful plan. 
 
LINES. 47 
 
 LINES. 
 
 Oh ! would in this land of sorrow, 
 Where the sky is ever dark, 
 That some kind, wandering angel, 
 Would guide my little bark. 
 Oh ! would that some ethereal star 
 Would cast a lingering ray, 
 And turn a lover's darkness 
 Into a lover's day. 
 There is no wand'ring angel, 
 No star of brightest ray. 
 Could light my saddened feelings, 
 As you could, dearest — 
 
 Oh ! there is no bard needed, 
 To unite the starry sphere ; 
 For two bright stars will glitter. 
 Each other very near. 
 But still, a starry braiding 
 Hath circled heaven's blue ; 
 I love to look toward it. 
 When I cannot look to you. 
 But what is this upon my wrist. 
 This sweetly braided tress ; 
 A raven plume from rosy cheek, 
 With such a magic press. 
 
48 LINES. 
 
 There needed not this sweetest band, 
 
 To bind us now, forever ; 
 
 For friendship's band, and love's combined, 
 
 I would, I could not sever. 
 
 I would not for the world beside, 
 
 This bright memento break ; 
 
 For on it hangs my future hopes ; 
 
 With it, my love's at stake. 
 
 LINES 
 
 In the morning of life. 
 
 When bright hope's blythely singing, 
 And in pleasure we're rife. 
 
 And in joys e'er round us ringing ; 
 Oh ! youth, I pray last longer, 
 
 Spring be the only season ; 
 Oh ! let our love grow stronger, 
 
 For virtue, right, and reason. 
 But yet, if youth's eternal, 
 
 Reason will e'er be green ; 
 If Spring, the fruits maternal, 
 
 Of Autumn, ne'er '11 be seen. 
 Then let us go to that sweet land, 
 
 Where reason's born mature ; 
 
A DREAM. 49 
 
 Where sweet spring hours, hand in hand, 
 From storm and winds secure. 
 
 Last night I saw, in the land above, 
 
 Two stars that glittered bright ; 
 They seemed as if they lived to love. 
 
 Oh ! 'twas a lovely sight. 
 Last morn two clouds of beauteous hue, 
 
 Distant their course begun ; 
 They seemed as spirits of the dead, 
 
 As mingling into one. 
 I saw two streams wind through the glade, 
 
 Which seemed as spirits meeting ; . 
 They joined their course and formed a braid, 
 
 The lovely valley greeting. 
 'Tis thus my feelings are to you, 
 
 Like stars that glitter bright ; 
 Could we but live below and love, 
 
 My soul w^ould ne'er know night. 
 Oh ! could we, like Aurora's hue, 
 
 Or valley's lovely stream ; 
 Oh ! could I but be loved by you, 
 
 'Tw^ould be so sweet a dream. 
 
50 ANGEL VISITS. 
 
 Oh ! why, in this land of sorrow, 
 
 Do we wish so long to stay ; 
 Where we have to part to-morrow, 
 
 And only meet to-day ? 
 But gladly I'd hve longer, 
 
 Beneath time's darkened sky. 
 For my love to grow still stronger, 
 
 Beneath yom- angel eye. 
 Yes, yes, for one such meeting 
 
 Dispels each gloomy cast, 
 And when we part, the greeting 
 
 Is lightened by the past. 
 But we shall meet again, 
 
 E're many morns pass by ; 
 And I shall live with pleasure, 
 
 Beneath thy speaking eye. 
 
 ANGEL VISITS. 
 
 I've heard of Eastern phantoms. 
 So lovely, sweet and tair ; 
 And when pursued they vanish 
 In heaven's purest air. 
 But as they make their exit, 
 To fairer clime^ than this, 
 
ANGEL VISITS. 51 
 
 They leave a gilded halo 
 
 Around the brow of bliss. 
 
 They say that, as departing, 
 
 A voice most sweet is heard, 
 
 That though they've made their exit. 
 
 There's nothing to be feared ; 
 
 For round our way they linger, 
 
 As guards from every harm, 
 
 And never will be absent 
 
 In danger's dread alarm. 
 
 I've thought, alike ' twas true. 
 
 That spirits of departed, 
 
 Still linger round companions. 
 
 When dull and broken hearted. 
 
 I hope, indeed 'tis certain. 
 
 For then from climes of bliss 
 
 I'll come, to guard a " loved one," 
 
 To fairer lands than this. 
 
These are poems written in my early boyliood, when com- 
 position was a novelty, and I knew few rules by which to 
 versify. Those which follow were written during my Col- 
 lege Courses. 
 
LINES. 53 
 
 Along lifers weary journey, 
 
 O'er sorrow's rugged hills, 
 
 A smile from those we value 
 
 The soul with pleasure fills. 
 
 A friend, 'long life's drear pathway. 
 
 Dispels each gloomy care. 
 
 And frowns on hated envy, 
 
 And bids us not to fear. 
 
 'Tis by this weak memento 
 
 My fi'iendship I declare, 
 
 And hope in your good wishes, 
 
 I bear an humble share. 
 
 For should the cloud of trouble 
 
 Disperse your happiness, 
 
 Like stars beyond the curtain. 
 
 My friendship won't be less. 
 
 And should dark clouds of sorrow 
 
 Shut out eacb ray of light. 
 
 And leave me all deserted, 
 
 In lonely, lonesome night. 
 
 I hope upon my memory 
 
 A hope from you'll be left. 
 
 That in my darkest hours 
 
 I'll know I'm not bereft. 
 
 And when on memory's tablet 
 
 In richest letters bright. 
 
54 THE FIRST TEAR IN PARADISE. 
 
 I'll think upon that blessing 
 With pleasure at the sight. 
 
 THE FIRST TEAR IN PARADISE. 
 
 Sweet were the breezes that blew o'er Eden's bowers, 
 
 Happy was Adam, as he passed with Eve his hours ; 
 
 As there they passed their moments in most exquisite joy, 
 
 Each hour its share of happiness without the least alloy. 
 
 Eve slept, and on her happy face an angel smile was there ; 
 
 So pure, so sweet, so angehc, so heavenly fair : 
 
 At morn, when Adam waked he saw, and sore surprised, 
 
 That something like a frown had stole o'er her sweet eyes. 
 
 She waked, but still her eyes with sorrow deep were fraught ; 
 
 How came it ? 't was by the dreams of night, 't was brought : 
 
 What pearly tint was that which grew in Eve's bright eye ? 
 
 Oh ! V7hat was that ? indeed, in Paradise a sigh ! 
 
 'T was the first tear that ever was in Eden's bright land seen, 
 
 And Adam could not tell what that bright pearl could mean ; 
 
 It seemed he liked its looks, for quickly in his e3^es 
 
 Two glittering pearls, like that of Eve, anon did rise. 
 
ON THE DEATH OF A YOUNG LADY. 55 
 
 ON THE DEATH OF A YOUNG LADY. 
 
 She is gone, she is gone, to the better land 
 
 Where the weary spirits rest ; 
 She is gone to join the celestial band 
 
 In the home of the heavenly blest. 
 We are loth to part from those we love, 
 
 By death's unsparing hand ; 
 But they're gone, they're gone to the land above, 
 
 To the heavenly spirit land. 
 In earth's cold clime for awhile we part, 
 
 And bid our friends farewell ; 
 Though parted thus, we're joined in heart, 
 
 In heaven our joys to tell. 
 Her race on earth was short and brief, 
 
 'Mong friends who held her dear ; 
 But they could not wish in this land of grief, 
 
 She might have long dwelt here. 
 Then we bid her now a smile and tear, 
 
 A brief but sad farewell ; 
 'Till we meet in climes all free from care, 
 
 Our joy and love to tell. 
 
56 LINES TO 
 
 LINES TO 
 
 I MUST see thy face no more ; 
 I thy voice no more must hear : 
 For every smile that hghts thine eye, 
 And every musical reply, 
 But makes you feel more dear. 
 But yet, I can now look no more 
 Upon that heavenly face of thine ; 
 For if it cause me pain to look. 
 That pain, ! yes, Til freely brook, 
 In hope that I might call it mine. 
 Sometimes, above the earth's dark wave, 
 A brilliant star we see ; 
 And since the earliest glimpse I caught, 
 My homage to that star I've brought — 
 That star, fair one, is — Thee ! 
 
 I've seen her once, and only once, 
 
 Her fairy, angel form ; 
 
 Still, lingering round my mind, has left 
 
 Of what it ne'er will be bereft : 
 
 'Tis Love and Hope ; sweet storm, 
 
 My sky was drear and dark — 
 
 Hope whispered better times. 
 
 When she, like morning's brightest beam, 
 
 Came o'er the spirit of my dream. 
 
LINES TO . 57 
 
 As, fresh from heaven's clime. 
 
 Oh ! pleasing thought — I love to dwell 
 
 Upon that happy horn*, 
 
 When first I saw that sweetest star, 
 
 That cast its heavenly beam from far — 
 
 That lighted every flower. 
 
 Oh ! sweetest beam, too bright for earth. 
 
 Comes glittering from her eye ; 
 
 An eye — 'twould light a land of bliss — 
 
 For thee, bright star of loveliness, 
 
 'Twould be a bhss to die. 
 
 Oh ! in this land of sorrows, 
 Where the sky is ever dark, 
 Would that some wandering angel, 
 Would guide my little bark„ 
 Oh ! would some star of beauty 
 Cast a soft, lingering ray. 
 And turn a lover's darkness 
 Into a lover's day. 
 There is no wandering angel, 
 Or star, of brightest ray, 
 Could light my saddened feelings 
 As you could, dearest — . 
 
 They say there's a braid, in the land above, 
 Called friendship's sparkling chain ; 
 
58 THE GEOGRAPHICIAN. 
 
 When once we're bound by this link of love, 
 
 We'll never part again. 
 
 They say that the chord is woven strong, 
 
 By the hand of Purity ; 
 
 And that its links will last as long 
 
 As sweet Eternity. 
 
 They say that it strengthens fast with age, 
 
 And brightens as the sun ; 
 
 And that it writes on a lovely page 
 
 All angel's names in one. 
 
 If so, I'm sure, on the brightest page. 
 
 Your lovely name's enchased ; 
 
 And let me say, from off my heart, 
 
 It ne'er will be erased. 
 
 For on its columns, close by thine. 
 
 Sweet Love my name shall write : 
 
 And I will look, and trace the Hne, 
 
 With pleasure at the sight. 
 
 THE GEOGRAPHICIAN. 
 
 On Monday last, as we drew nigh. 
 The news throughout the halls did fly, 
 That an address we'd have to-night, 
 On Geography — I think I'm right. 
 
THE GEOGRAPHICIAN. 59 
 
 In every eye delight was seen, 
 Each face so joyful and serene ; 
 The larger, with the girls might go. 
 The smaller, they'd shoot acorns so. 
 Well, on we put our " bib and tuck," 
 Among the " gals," to try our luck ; 
 We walked, I tell you, with good will. 
 
 To hear this hero from . 
 
 With expectation deep we sat. 
 
 Our hearts agoing " pit a pat ;" 
 
 But soon suspense was at a close. 
 
 The GeogTaphician he arose. 
 
 " The system which I teach," says he, 
 
 " Ahem, I call the Laneiste ; * 
 
 That which is first to be unfurled. 
 
 Is on the map of all the world. 
 
 I'll tell how far 'tis from the sun. 
 
 And how its circled course does run ; 
 
 And this I'll do in one short day, 
 
 And turn to North America. 
 
 Ahem ; we'll classify the towns, 
 
 And of the countries tell the bounds ; 
 
 This all I'll teach in fifteen days. 
 
 To each one who three dollars pays. 
 
 And then if you're not satisfied. 
 
 You all may say that I have lied." 
 
 We all arose in deep dismay, 
 
60 LINES. 
 
 And eacli one hurried fast away. 
 
 Well, — , lias this Capt. B. 
 
 Been reared, from youth, upon your knee, 
 
 A specimen of genius rare ? 
 
 A representative so fair ? 
 
 Of — literature and speech. 
 
 This eve he made a " dreadful reach." 
 
 But — call your wanderer home, 
 
 Don't let him next — roam. 
 
 For we well know that North's not South, 
 
 That a river's source is not its mouth ; 
 
 That the climate here is quite too chill, 
 
 So call back B — to old — . 
 
 LINES. 
 
 Oh! could I draw from Heaven's blue, 
 
 The sweetest star that's there. 
 
 And all its sisters on it shine. 
 
 To make it still more fair ; 
 
 Or, could I now from Heaven's joys, 
 
 The sweetest smile possess, 
 
 Or write my name on science's brow, 
 
 With firmest, deep impress — 
 
 I still would wish, with fervent heart, 
 
LINES. 61 
 
 To gain a smile from thee. 
 
 Without it, oh ! without that smile, 
 
 I ne'er could happy be. 
 
 For stars, indeed, are very bright, 
 
 Like heaven's twinkling pearls ; 
 
 As if some beam of love, divine, 
 
 From each one swift unftirls. 
 
 But ah ! how dark, how dull they seem, 
 
 When thy sweet eyes I see ; 
 
 For if a bright star decked each eye, 
 
 'Twould not embellish thee. 
 
 An angel's smile you ever have, 
 
 On those sweet lips of yours ; 
 
 And words of magic, thrilHng tones. 
 
 Forever from them pours. 
 
 They say in the East there's a beautiful stream. 
 And its waters are rippling beneath the moon's beam ; 
 They say that its groves are shady and bright, 
 And the moon shines so pleasantly during the night. 
 And that while its beams are quivering there, 
 And the spice breeze is wafted sweet with the air ; 
 They say on this bright wave is a spirit of love, 
 With her soft eyes forever looking above, — 
 Except when she looks at the youth who's near by, 
 6 
 
62 LINES. 
 
 Who's ever and anon heaving a sigh, — 
 
 She tells him to look in that sweet land above, 
 
 And there find an object worthy his love. 
 
 But he says that without her, that land would be dark, 
 
 And nought there for which to guide his frail bark ; 
 
 But he tells her his home shall ever be there, 
 
 Till Heaven shall call him to a land that's more fair. 
 
 And there he will linger around this sweet place, 
 
 And sorrow and sadness far away he will chase ; 
 
 And lingering long, will take the last look 
 
 At the sweet cherub spirit that lives on the brook. 
 
 Oh! Miss, were you there, would you drive him away? 
 
 Oh ! would you not let him with you longer stay ? 
 
 Methinks that your answer would be otherwise — 
 
 I read it, I see it within those sweet eyes. 
 
 Well, you are the syren on love's flowing wave, 
 
 And I am the youth your sweet smile can save ; 
 
 Without you, that bright spirit land would be dark, 
 
 Nor one ghttering star to direct my frail bark. 
 
 Oh ! well then, indeed, if you drive me away, 
 
 I'll hover around you, by night and by day ; 
 
 And 'twill be all my happiness, when away from yon place, 
 
 To bring, though unseen, a smile on your face. 
 
LINES. 63 
 
 That star may glitter e'er so bright, 
 
 From an ethereal sky ; 
 But never can enchant my sight 
 
 Like maiden's lovely eye. 
 It may a world of spirits be, 
 
 The watchword may be love ; 
 But that bright land is wanting thee, 
 
 Although this sphere above. 
 Soft music, too, may float along, 
 
 O'er each sequestered place. 
 And smiles, which are themselves a song, 
 
 Beam o'er each lovely face. 
 But one soft blush, o'er beauty's cheek. 
 
 Beneath a quivering eye. 
 Another land I ne'er would seek — 
 
 For that soft blush I'd die. 
 Let Ital boast of sunset hours, 
 
 And soft, dark eyes that glance ; 
 And France, her never fading bowers, 
 
 Her Gallopade and dance. 
 The German minstrel, too, may sing 
 
 The tale of page and knight ; 
 And to the lively vision paint 
 
 The rage of Eastern fight. 
 But 'tis the music sweet, I hear. 
 
 That sweetly beaming eyes. 
 
64 LINES. 
 
 Which leaves a halo, or a tear, 
 Like splendors on the sky. 
 
 I've heard of a beautiful land, 
 
 That's shrouded in lovely flowers ; 
 And the angels wander in bands 
 
 In lovely floral bowers. 
 'Tis said that their music is sweet, 
 
 And angels their listeners are ; 
 That they linger, and often do meet, 
 
 And gaze on their faces so fair. 
 Those beings are pure as the flowers, 
 
 That live on the dew from above ; 
 And their boquets, beneath their sweet bowers, 
 
 Are a feast — are a banquet of love. 
 But they say, in this romantic vale, 
 
 There's a boquet so sweet and so fair. 
 That the spirit of flowers will fail 
 
 To pluck the boquet which grows there. 
 And they say, 'mid this musical band. 
 
 There's a melody lies yet unstrung ; 
 That the Tubal once touched by a chance, 
 
 But left its soft music imsung. 
 
TO . 65 
 
 That boquet must be plucked by your hand, 
 
 For to you it will surely belong ; 
 For they say 'tis the prize in this land 
 
 To the one that surpasses in song. 
 
 TO 
 
 I NEED not say I love thee 
 My actions all declare 
 That in my heart's affections, 
 You bear the greatest share. 
 When I am absent from thee, 
 I'm like the lonesome dove, 
 That mourns her lost companion, 
 She did so dearly love. 
 Oft other eyes may meet me, 
 That beam with love most true ; 
 But then I think those glances 
 Are guided, not by you. 
 They fall, unheeded, on me, 
 Like winds they pass away ; 
 There is but one bright vision 
 Will on my memory stay. 
 And on it, still untarnished, 
 Upon this heart of mine, 
 6* 
 
66 TO AN OLD FRIEND. 
 
 In bright, lovely characters, 
 Will long — forever shine. 
 ' Yes, sacred with each feeling, 
 Embalmed, thy name shall be ; 
 And in a constant memory, 
 I'll cherish only thee. 
 
 TO AN OLD FRIEND. 
 
 Friendship's a chain of brightest glow, 
 
 A coral chain of love ; 
 
 'Tis braided by an angel's hand. 
 
 In fairer lands above. 
 
 Then twine for me a wreath of smiles, 
 
 And bind them round my brow ; 
 
 And I a single memento. 
 
 In verse, if you'll allow. 
 
 And when upon those lines you look. 
 
 Remember J. P. B., 
 
 Who twined a band of friendship true, 
 
 A lasting love for thee. 
 
beauty's farewell and return. 67 
 
 BEAUTY'S FAREWELL AND RETURN. 
 
 I SAW a beauteous maiden upon a river's bank, 
 
 As neath the early flowers of morning's bloom she sank ; 
 
 And as the flowers nestled upon her bosom fair, 
 
 It seemed so free from trouble and every worldly care. 
 
 And as they wdth their nectar perfumed her lily cheek, 
 
 I list — and heard Aurora, in tones of sorrow speak : 
 
 " Oh ! would I had a spirit to grace my early birth, 
 
 Like this sweet child of heaven, that's lingering here on earth. 
 
 But oh ! how sad the future, when beauty fades away. 
 
 And leaves that brow, so classic, like fading beams of day.'? 
 
 " Yet, Beauty," says a spirit, ^' although it fades away. 
 
 It will return, in splendor, for an eternal day." 
 
 When next I saw that maiden, no smile lit up her eye. 
 
 And sorrow chilled her bosom, that never knew a sigh ; 
 
 " Thus, thus," said I, " hath beauty, with all its glory fled, 
 
 And left but truth and innocence, to cheer her in its stead. 
 
 When next I saw that maiden, her eye was brighfijjjbd fair. 
 
 Her vision was of heaven — she saw her beauty there. 
 
 It waited but to welcome her upon that happy shore, 
 
 And then returning beauty met her, to part no more. 
 
68 POETS IN HEAVEN. 
 
 POETS IN HEAVEN. 
 
 On fancy's wings I soar aloft, 
 Away from scenes of time ; 
 Above the skies, where breezes soft 
 Blow gently o'er a clime 
 Where all are blissful scenes of love, 
 In that bright region far above. 
 
 While wandering o'er those flowery hills, 
 
 Where roses bloom and never fade, 
 Where aroma each zephyr fills, 
 And bows arise from each cascade, 
 Of glory, faUing o'er the deeds. 
 Of him, who stars of honor leads. 
 
 There are the ones who sketched the scene, 
 "31 Displayed on canvass bright, 
 And in one beauteous glow convene 
 The colors of celestial hght, 
 "dttjj^ beaming fresh from each pure source, 
 Form splendors long its brightened course. 
 There are the ones, who learning deep. 
 
 Had sought by night and day ; 
 Had gained the heights at one great leap. 
 And seemed as if in play ; 
 But nought of those the scene inspire, 
 Like those who touch the mystic lyre. 
 
 Yes ! they, while wandering down those streams, 
 
RAINBOW. 69 
 
 Take harps attuned to song, 
 And like love's ray in mystic gleams, 
 The echoes lingering long, f 
 
 They tell of pleasures none can know, 
 But those from whom love's ideas flow. 
 
 RAINBOW. 
 
 I WONDER if that rainbow that gilds the bluish sky 
 
 Is but the rain drops glittering as on the clouds they lie ; 
 
 Or are they broken sunbeams that struggle through the storm? 
 
 Or shafts of silver arrows like moonbeams sometimes form, 
 
 Or is it heaven's highway, where cherub angels roam, 
 
 While wand'ring on their errands away from love's bright 
 
 home. 
 It must be heaven's highway, for I have often thought 
 That by your magic presence 'twas to my vision brought, 
 For while the tear drop ghstened within your lovely eye. 
 The smile still lingered round it as if it would not fly, 
 I thought it like the shower that came at morning's gleam. 
 And pressed before its crystals each golden sunlight beam. 
 And when the look of gladness came o'er your cherub face. 
 And smiles of lovely feeling to saddened looks gave place 
 I thought it like the splendors which fade at evening's hour, 
 Or hke Aurora breathing o'er morning's dewgilt flower. 
 
\ 
 
 70 THE LAST ROSE OP SUMMER. 
 
 'Tis so much like the rainbow that leads to lands above, 
 Where music softest stealing from off the harps of love. 
 Your tones o f loving gladness, which speak from every look, 
 Like Orpheus' lingering beauty, round Sappho's burning book; 
 This, this is all the rainbow that gilds my vision bright; 
 'Tis long this crystal highway my fancy takes its flight, 
 The strains of fondest music, and beauty's ghttering hue, 
 Has centered all its glory, its sweetest strains in you. 
 
 THE LAST ROSE OF SUMMER. 
 
 The last rose of Summer, what a charm hangs around. 
 I hnger as I look, and saddened, yet spell-bound. 
 Indeed, is this the last ? will no more roses bloom ? 
 Oh, why did cruel autumn the floral spirit doom. 
 The last rose of summer, like eve's departing ray, ' 
 Conveys a magic feeling like vesper's close of day, 
 It seems the last star setting, and casts a lingering beam, 
 Like hopes of faded joys o'er sorrows saddened gleam. 
 The last rose of summer, the last, it is the best, 
 For in that rose is blended the sweets of all the rest. 
 For, 'tis when joy leaves us that we esteem it dear, 
 Too little do we prize it when long it hovers near. 
 The last rose of summer, its sweetness how I prize. 
 So much like hngering innocense within a maiden's eyes. 
 
LINES. 71 
 
 The rest, they all have faded and fell in Flora's grave ; 
 
 Of all of summer's roses, this only could I save. 
 
 The last rose of summer I shall remember long-, 
 
 Like the last fleeting touches of hope's dehghtful song. 
 
 And thus my little poem, with one request, I close, 
 
 That you would " envoyez ame," this summer's latest rose. 
 
 I've thought with hopeless sorrow, 
 
 Man's nature had to dwell, 
 And fears for each to-morrow, 
 
 A darker day will tell. 
 Just ask him where his love 
 
 And all his joy hes, 
 And he will point above, J 
 
 To lands beyond the skies. 
 He'll tell you where is joy, 
 
 And sorrows known no more ; 
 Where's love without alloy, 
 
 Upon that bhssful shore. 
 Yes, well I know 'tis certain ; 
 
 For oft its glorious beams 
 Shines through time's darkened curtain, 
 
 In lucid, fitful gleams, 
 They hght the heart of sadness. 
 
 And sorrow drive away. 
 
72 FORGET ME NOT. 
 
 They guide tlie pen of gladness 
 
 To an enchanted lay ; 
 I viewed a ray of glory 
 
 Fall o'er your chiseled brow, 
 And like love's majestic story, 
 
 'Tis lingering, beaming now ; 
 'Twas but the rays reflected, 
 
 That shone around my heart ; 
 They ne'er will be rejected. 
 
 With them I would not part. 
 
 FORGET ME NOT. 
 
 Forget thee ! no, I never shall, 
 
 Though distant far away, 
 Thine image, like a lingering beam. 
 
 Around my heart shall play. 
 Forget thee ! no, in youth's warm hour. 
 
 When hope is fair and bright. 
 Thine image, like a hallowed beam, 
 
 Shall dwell before my sight. 
 Forget thee ! no, in manhood's prime, 
 
 When dazzling honor crowns ; 
 Alike when fortune wears a smile, 
 
 Or clothes itself in frowns. 
 
 vJi^. 
 
ON THE DEATH OP AN AGED MEMBER OF THE CHURCH. 73 
 
 Forget thee ! no, when yeai*s have passed, 
 
 And when my joys have fled, 
 The halo of a thought of you 
 
 Shall play around my head. 
 Forget thee ! no, I never shall, 
 
 While memory sits enthroned ; 
 For on my heart, in letters bright, 
 
 Your name it is ensconced. 
 
 LINES ON THE DEATH OF AN AGED MEMBER OF 
 THE CHURCH. 
 
 He's gone, but yet methinks I see 
 
 That champion of the cross ; 
 He's gone ; but yet it seems that I 
 
 Have not sustained this loss. 
 Aye, do I now not hear his voice ? 
 
 As with uplifted eye. 
 He says, " Behold the Lamb of God, 
 
 Believe and never die." 
 And now, as tears each other trace, 
 
 Adown his watered cheek, 
 Of his bright home beyond the skies, 
 
 He does with fervor speak. 
 And is he gone ? stall I no more 
 
74 TO HENRY. 
 
 His cTieering accents hear ; 
 Shall I no jnore have his advice, 
 
 I ever held so dear ? 
 Then be it so ; farewell, my friend, 
 
 This earth was not thy home, 
 Although for works of Christian love. 
 
 Sent here awhile to roam. 
 Your course of holy acts beneath, 
 
 You did so humbly run ; 
 But in a brighter world 'tis like 
 
 The angels in the sun. 
 
 TO HENRY. 
 
 Henry, were all the golden gems 
 
 Of India's burning soil. 
 Or all the Eastern diadems. 
 
 Your own without a toil. 
 Yet, this you'd find a rugged way 
 
 To pleasure's distant home ; 
 For you would hear sad trouble's lay, 
 
 While o'er those fields you roam. 
 Hear virtue whisper in your ear. 
 
 And view her beacon lights. 
 Along her pathway bright to cheer, 
 
WINTER IS GONE. 75 
 
 To onward, upward flights. 
 There flowers are strewn on every side, 
 
 That never bears a thorn, 
 And all her paths of peace, they guide 
 
 To an eternal morn. 
 Seek fame, and let it be a star. 
 
 In the literati's sky, 
 And seek for treasures, hidden far ; 
 
 In wisdom's hordes they lie. 
 Seek honor ; let that honor be 
 
 The meed of virtue's hand ; 
 Buoy up against fate's stern decree, 
 
 With all decision's band. 
 Seek wisdom ; let that wisdom be 
 
 The pearl of greatest, Price 
 Has given you this poetry, 
 
 As his last, best advice. 
 
 WINTER IS GONE. 
 
 Yes, winter is gone, its cold bleak winds 
 Have yielded to a warmer day, 
 
 And earth's fair di'ess is springing up. 
 Beneath the sun's still brighter ray. 
 
 But alas, how many a warm fond heart, 
 Has slept beneath a snowy shroud ; 
 
76 TO 
 
 0*er whose cold grave the flowers will bloom, 
 
 Beneath, the Spring's bright showery cloud. 
 But, winter, I cannot say farewell, 
 
 Without a sigh — without a tear ; 
 For thou hast brought full many a joy 
 
 To me that I have held most dear ; 
 For while the earth was cold and chill, 
 
 And other hearts knew nought of love ; 
 My soul drew pleasures, rich and sweet, 
 
 From fancy's land — from realms above. 
 Then farewell, winter, my thanks to thee 
 
 For each bright spot in thy drear hours, 
 And welcome to thee, joyous spring, 
 
 With thy wild, sweet boquet of flowers. 
 And may each flower, like hope's sweet ray. 
 
 Descending from a clime above. 
 Tell us of flowers that never fade, 
 
 Whose every language is of love. 
 
 TO 
 
 While in a lonesome Avalk, to-day, 
 
 I found this little flower. 
 And is there need that I should say, 
 
 I felt its magic power 
 
TO 
 
 Steal round my heart, and lift my soul, 
 Its Maker's goodness to behold ? 
 
 That Httle flower grew 'mid the thorns, 
 
 And spread its fragrance there ; 
 It fairest blooms in morning's hour, 
 But fades ^^dth evening's air. 
 'Tis like hfe's fiail uncertain gleam, 
 Which passes with the moonlight's beam. 
 I thought that when this httle flower 
 
 Was nipped by night's cold breath ; 
 That when it felt the sun's warm power, 
 'Twould live still after death. 
 When freed from night's cold, damp'ning air, 
 'Twould bloom within a land more fair. 
 'Tis thus with you, a flower bright, 
 
 On earth's cold sterile land. 
 To stay within earth's lonesome night, 
 'Till beauty doth disband 
 Her forces ; then in realms above. 
 Thou shalt forever live and love. 
 
 77 
 
78 THE TEMPERANCE SPRING. 
 
 THE TEMPERANCE SPRING. 
 
 The niglit was dark, no glimmering light 
 
 Broke througli tlie long and darkened niglit, 
 
 Intemperance, with its wretched dream. 
 
 Shut out each bright and glorious beam. 
 
 Its winter came — long, drear and dark. 
 
 Illumined by no glimmering spark, 
 
 And many a noble ship was wrecked, 
 
 With love and splendid talent decked. 
 
 Many were drifting, with the air, 
 
 Upon the rocks of dark despair. 
 
 While no beacon pointed out 
 
 Destruction's sure and firm redoubt. 
 
 When, lo ! across the moral sky, 
 
 A flashing meteor swift did fly. 
 
 All nations gazed at this glad sight, 
 
 That thus dispersed her moral night. 
 
 It grew and with its beams did bring 
 
 The glories of a moral spring. 
 
 Still nations gazed and felt its power 
 
 Burst o'er their souls like Spring's sweet hour, 
 
 And while its light o'er earth still roams. 
 
 Illumining an hundred homes. 
 
 And as the nations still may ask. 
 
 As in its heavenly beams they bask. 
 
AMICITIA. 79 
 
 What brilliant star to earth is given ? 
 
 The " Pledge," the glorious arch of Heaven. 
 
 AMICITIA. 
 
 Oh, 'tis a name, a heavenly name, 
 
 A brighter land its home, 
 Although on earth's cold, cheerless clime, 
 
 Content a while to roam. 
 A charm which calls sweet feeling out, 
 
 In folds of amorous gilt ; 
 Its palace, not by fancy's hand, 
 
 With trembling columns built. 
 Like the gay flower, it blooms at morn ; 
 
 It braves the noon-day sun, 
 And when the eve of life surrounds, 
 
 Its beauty's just begun. 
 Let envy rage, in lowering storm ; 
 
 Let war's dread thunders loom, 
 The place where friendship blooms most sweet, 
 
 Is round affection's tomb. 
 'Tis like the comet's fiery trail, 
 
 It hghts affection's sky ; 
 True friendship lights a heavenly clime, 
 
 It's splendors ne'er shall die. 
 
80 THE TWIN COMETS OP 1846. 
 
 THE "TWIN COMETS" OF 1846. 
 
 Oh, say, ye heavenly messengers, 
 
 As o'er wide space you fly, 
 Like two celestial sisters, 
 
 To beautify tlie sky. 
 Say, where ; where was your origin ? 
 ^ Tell us from whence ye came. 
 
 Say, where your destination, 
 
 With your bright silver flame ? 
 'Mid all the bright transactions 
 
 Upon your sky-lit soil, 
 Oh, say, does pain and sorrow. 
 
 Make life a wearying toil — 
 Or do the beings who people 
 
 Yon starry, bright domain 
 Forever freed from sorrow. 
 
 Know aught of grief and pain ? 
 Hast ever heard hope's whispering ? 
 
 Or Christ's redeeming call ? 
 Oh, can ye boast an Eden ? 
 
 Or mourn a WTetched fall ? 
 And oft when vesper's fading, 
 
 And Cynthia sheds her rays. 
 Doth music break sweet o'er ye 
 
 With its enchanted lays. 
 And are your star gilt surfaces 
 
 With floral beauties decked, 
 
JOHN XIV, 1 3. 81 
 
 And are their fragrant bowers 
 
 With woman's presence blessed ? 
 Well, well, ye will not answer, 
 
 As sweet ye hover there. 
 As some aurorial beauty, 
 
 Or spirit of the air. 
 On, on, for ye remind me 
 
 Of beauty, friendship, love ; 
 The home of those sweet passions 
 
 Is in that land above. 
 'Midst the celestial splendor, . 
 
 With which your journey's rife. 
 This bright companionship of thine 
 
 Casts beauty o'er your life. 
 
 JOHN XIV, 1—3. 
 
 Oh, yes, beyond that starry sky, 
 
 Stretched o'er Gethseraane, 
 I go, bright mansions to prepare 
 
 For all mankind and ye. 
 Think not 'twere better I should stay. 
 
 Within this vale of wo, 
 My work is done, and joyful to 
 
 My Father I will go. 
 
82 JOHN XIV, 1 — 3. 
 
 Think not I leave you here alone ; 
 
 The comforter is given ; 
 My spirit hov'ring round your way, 
 
 Shall guide you up to heaven. 
 " And yet, a little while" below, 
 
 'Mid all this toil and pain, 
 And heaven shall burst upon your view, 
 
 And we shall meet again. 
 Yes, yes, within my Father's house, 
 
 When ages past have rolled, 
 To sit and sing his glories, and 
 
 His beauties to behold, 
 Shall be your sweet employment, 
 
 'Till heaven all o'er shall ring, 
 And Moses, with the saints of God, 
 
 This heavenly song shall sing. 
 Then while on earth, you toil and weep. 
 
 Oh, cast your looks to heaven, 
 And know that this bright, happy home 
 
 To each of you'll be given. 
 Then let me go, my Father waits 
 
 To welcome his son there ; 
 A mansion bright, for each of you. 
 
 In heaven I will prepare. 
 
83 
 
 THE POET'S IDEAL. 
 
 The Poet touched his magic lyre, 
 
 While zephyrs waved the flowers around, 
 And as his touching strains rose higher, 
 
 He stood enchanted at the sound, 
 That fell in murmurs, as his thought 
 The Poet's magic ideal brought. 
 
 He sang, that in a land beyond 
 
 The mount that rose on Cauca's plain, 
 A heavenly spirit there he found, 
 
 With which he ne'er would part again ; 
 For round his soul it threw a power 
 That far surpassed the mystic flower. 
 Within that bright elysian plain, 
 
 Like cheerful hopes the flowers are, 
 There troubles never come again, 
 
 Beneath a sky so sweetly fair. 
 There through each valley ne'er so bright ; 
 
 There winds a lovely, murmuring stream. 
 Like liquid jewels to the sight, ■ 
 
 Its murmuring like a lovely dream. 
 Each star seemed as 'twas loth to pass 
 
 Away from this delightful scene ; 
 No brighter land, they well might know, 
 
 Would come with its sweet banks of green. 
 And angels as they lingered round 
 
84 A SMILB. 
 
 Its pearly brooks and floral bowers, 
 Were wont to tune each lyric sound, 
 
 To sing of those sweet earthly flowers. 
 This, this is the Poet's home, 
 
 Of flowery meads and pearly streams, 
 And here is where the poets roam, 
 Within this land of lovely dreams. 
 Which o'er the mind its beauties roll ; 
 Its ideal visions fill the soul. 
 
 A SMILE. 
 
 Dear lady, 'tis our fate below, 
 
 To meet, to part with grief and pain, 
 And when we part, though sad I am, 
 
 I smile to think we'll meet again, 
 Then, lady, let me see a smile 
 
 Bedecking that fair face of thine, 
 That round my pathway, when we part, 
 
 It may, like haloed beauties, shine. 
 That smile shall live in memory's sky. 
 
 The beacon light of all my joy ; 
 Ambition — worldly honor — fame, 
 
 Shall not that heavenly smile destroy. 
 And when this fickle, unkind world, 
 
A PRAYER. 85 
 
 With all its joy away shall fly, 
 No ray shall cheer my fainting soul 
 
 But that bright star in memory's sky. 
 And, lady, when we meet again, 
 
 In this poor world, or realms above, 
 May that sweet smile still deck thy face ; 
 That smile that lights a land of love. 
 
 A PRAYER. 
 
 Oh ! God, when life shall sink apace, 
 
 And death shall heave in view, 
 May all my hope — may all my trust 
 
 Be centered then in you. 
 And when this world shall pass, and I 
 
 Shall bid farewell to pain. 
 At Jesus' throne, then let me meet. 
 
 My long loved friends again. 
 
86 TO A FADED FLOWER. 
 
 TO A FADED FLOWER. 
 
 Poor little flower, you're faded now, 
 
 Your beauties have decayed, 
 Although you were but yesterday, 
 
 In Beauty's self arrayed. 
 I plucked you from the parent stem, 
 
 And from the sun's bright ray. 
 And now, just like my sorrowing heart. 
 
 You've faded all away. 
 For sure my heart, like you, sweet flower. 
 
 Has missed its life and light. 
 And that bright star which shone o'er me, 
 
 Has faded from my sight. 
 It may be that you'll bloom again, 
 
 Within a fairer land. 
 Where no chill wintry blasts shall blow 
 
 Around your flowery band. 
 And thus I hope to live and love, 
 
 Beneath that angel's eye. 
 No other voice — no beam but her's 
 
 Shall hght up love's sweet sky. 
 
THE POLISH REVOLUTION. 87 
 
 FOR MISS . 
 
 'Tis she for whom the sun shines bright, 
 For her the moon adorns the night ; 
 For her the stars Hght up the sky ; 
 For her 'twould be a bHss to die. 
 
 THE POLISH REVOLUTION. 
 
 Awake, ye Poles ; list for the war, 
 
 The sound of freedom calls ; 
 Awake, ye Poles, a voice now speaks 
 From the old festive halls. 
 Your fathers there no song did sing, 
 But Poland's law and Poland's king. 
 
 Arise, ye Poles, your swords gird on, 
 
 Let freedom's voice prevail ; 
 Unsheath your swords, with vigor, then, 
 Your country's foes assail. 
 And if you fall in cause so true, 
 Defend, till death, the white and blue. 
 Armies of Poland, see that star 
 
 That gilds the western hemisphere. 
 She sheds her free-born beams afar. 
 
 And earth doth know they are more dear 
 
88 THE POLISH REVOLUTION. 
 
 Than brightest ones that ever shone 
 From despot's crown and despot's throne. 
 'Twas there the brave Pulaski fell, 
 
 (Of him may Poland well be proud,) 
 He fell ! a nation, memory fond 
 Has been Pulaski's winding shroud. 
 The memory of this Polish brave 
 Shall be, till memory finds a grave. 
 'Twas there that Kosciusko saw 
 
 The temple of sweet freedom reared, 
 And there the fane of liberty 
 For Poland was by him repaired, 
 Which gilding, now, old Poland's land, 
 Shall weaken every despot's hand. 
 
 And is there not in this dear land, 
 
 A heart that feels for Polish woes ; 
 A hand that will be lifted up 
 
 Against the brave Polander's foes. 
 Yes, surely Kosciusko's blood. 
 
 And brave Pulaski's silent grave. 
 For Poland, and for freedom's cause, 
 Shall call forth many a free-born brave, 
 From " Hail Columbia's happy land," 
 To join the Polish freedom-band. 
 
TO . 89 
 
 TO . 
 
 Those little flowers you gave to me 
 
 On jester's eve, I thought 
 Were an epitome of life, 
 
 That is by flowers taught. 
 At morn they di*ank the early dew, 
 
 And bloomed beneath the sun, 
 But evening saw their sweet hfe nipped 
 
 Before 'twas scarce begun. 
 And then how sweetly did they fade, 
 
 As robed by sorrow's beams. 
 And seemed as mournful music, or 
 
 As melancholy dreams. 
 May you thus bloom in life's first hour, 
 
 Free from adversity, 
 And, then, when death shall you transplant 
 
 Into eternity, 
 Oh, may its joys like matin dew, 
 
 New life each morning bring. 
 There where each flower tells of love. 
 
 In beauty's home you'll sing. 
 
 8*^ 
 
9Q MAY DAY. 
 
 TO ANNA. 
 
 There's music in those flowers, Anna, 
 
 There's music in the breeze 
 ThaJ; waves those little flowers, Anna, 
 
 And bends the towering trees. 
 Each zephyr that blows o'er them Anna, 
 
 From sweet Aurora's breath. 
 Is music^'till the North wind, Anna, 
 
 Brings its cold and chilly death. 
 Then listen to this music, Anna, 
 
 That comes so sweetly here ; 
 'Tis from those little flowers, Anna, 
 
 That beauty holds so dear. 
 They sing a song of love, Anna, 
 
 That's sung in lands more fair, 
 Now learn to sing this song, Anna, 
 
 That you may sing it there. 
 
 MAY -DAY. 
 
 Yes, May-Day has come with its flowery robe, 
 And the gay birds are singing so sweet ; 
 
 And the dear little flowers are blooming so bright, 
 Where the beautiful rivulets meet. 
 
MAY DAY. 91 
 
 Yes, May-Day has chased cold winter away, 
 
 And the bleak vnnds are blowing no more, 
 And the zephyrs are waving their beautiful robes. 
 
 As just fro m a fauy built shore. 
 Yes, May-Day has smiled and a million of flowers, 
 
 Like stars o'er the blue mantled sky. 
 Or like the sweet hopes which light our youth, 
 
 That's blooming for nought but to die. ^, 
 Yes, May-Day has charms no other day has 
 
 That's woven by flowery wands, 
 Each hour is robed, encompassed and blessed 
 
 By the flowers which form those sweet bands. 
 Then May-Day ; oh, May-Day, why will you retire 
 
 From this scene of enchantment and joy ? 
 Oh, why will you fly to the summerlike clime. 
 
 Our presence and love to destroy. 
 Then let this sweet May-Day, like sunlight and lo^e. 
 
 Far away drive each sorrowful thought, 
 And be this sweet hour with joy and with hope, 
 
 And music and love richly fraught. 
 Let each spark be as glory, each beam bright and clear ; 
 
 Each strain, like a seraph's bright lyre ; 
 Each touch like the wand of the Houri of thought, 
 
 And a smile, the bright compound to fire. 
 
92 ON RECEIVING A FLOWER. 
 
 ON RECEIVING A FLOWER. 
 
 Those winds that sigh so lonely, 
 
 Beneath a winter's sky, 
 Before the spring's bright sunshine, 
 
 Away, away they fly. , 
 
 And on the track of winter, 
 ^ Sweet flowers bloom gay and bright. 
 Like morning beams of beauty 
 
 After receding night ; 
 Or hope, on life's dull pathway. 
 
 Dispelling sorrow's trace, 
 And robing every hour 
 
 In beauty's smiling face. 
 'Twas thus your flowery donum. 
 
 In beauty came to me. 
 Like some crystal tipped blue wave, 
 
 On love's elysian sea. 
 These are the barks of joy, 
 *: And smiles the ballast bright, 
 
 • That bear across love's passengers, 
 - This magic sea of light. 
 
JOHN XVTH CHAPTER, 12tH VERSE. 93 
 
 JOHN XVth chapter, 12th VERSE. 
 
 And though I leave you here on earth, 
 
 I leave this sweet command. 
 Let love to one another be n 
 
 A firm unshaken band, 
 'Twas love that made me leave yon home. 
 
 Where engels love to sing 
 The beauties of that better land ; 
 
 The glories of their king. 
 'Twas love that caused me thus to leave 
 
 My father's glorious face ; 
 'Twas love that caused me thus to leave, ^ 
 
 That happy, happy place. 
 Where angels cast their glittering crowns, 
 
 While millions swell the song 
 Of glory, honor, joy and love ; 
 
 To him all praise belong. 
 'Twas love for you and all mankind, 
 
 That caused me thus to* leave * 
 
 Those joys which none but heaven doth know, 
 
 Man's glory to retrieve. * , 
 
 Then let this love each heart of yours, 
 
 In sweet communion join, 
 And now my last command is this, 
 
 Your love to be as mine. 
 
94 THE NOTICE. 
 
 Then wlien we meet in that bright home, 
 These mournful scenes above, 
 
 The band that binds our souls in one 
 Shall be the band of love. 
 
 I THE NOTICE.'^ 
 
 Look out, ye bragging Eugiishmen, 
 
 The " notice," it has passed, 
 John Bull, negotiate, or in 
 
 The vocative be classed. 
 For surely North-Carolina's Jim, 
 
 If we may judge from chat, 
 Will very soon the " notice" give 
 
 In " tempus" sharp or flat. 
 Now, in this flur with Mexico, 
 
 I plainly see John Bull, 
 With his old curley, motley head, 
 
 " A sticking out" so full, 
 For Paredes, like Galvan's frog, 
 
 Moved by electric force. 
 The touch applied by Englishmen, 
 
 And they direct his course, 
 But he just like the frog's skinned leg, 
 
 Will soon as passive lie. 
 
LINES. ^ 95 
 
 And Mexico, with mighty voice, 
 
 Vive a la Santa cry. 
 And then shall India's war be hushed, 
 
 The Sikhs their land enjoy, 
 And we may know and feel the force 
 
 Of England's great convoy ; 
 But surely England has forgot 
 
 The days of '76, 
 Or '15, when old Hickory put 
 
 Lord Packenham in fix. 
 But if 'tis thus they must be taught 
 
 Their lesson o'er again, 
 The best of teachers may be found 
 
 On " Hail Columbia's" main. 
 
 The night I asked her to be mine, 
 
 Was when the moon was shining bright. 
 Each ray passed by on zephyr's wings, 
 
 And stars were dancing in the light. 
 The blue gilt heavens seemed smihng down 
 
 To see the flowerets bloom so fair ; 
 Fantastic footsteps — fairy forms 
 
 And brighter spirits of the air ; 
 But even the murmurings of the wind, 
 
 As sighing through the gi*ove alone. 
 
96 iESTAS TEMPERANTIuE. 
 
 Were ne'er so sweet — so toucliiiig sweet, 
 
 As her sweet, silver, music tone. 
 A bright star shone with brilhant ray, 
 
 And softly decked the draped sky ; 
 But ah, it's brightness faded fast, 
 
 Before her spirit speaking eye. 
 The scene around was beauty's dress. 
 
 No cloud the azure dimmed above, 
 But flower and breeze, and sky and star, 
 
 Seemed whispering to us both of love. 
 And as I gazed upon her face, 
 
 And saw her seraph beauties shine ; 
 While angel-smiles played o'er her lips, 
 
 'Twas then I asked her to be mine. 
 A tear gleamed sweetly in her eye, 
 
 I felt my hand was warmly pressed ; 
 She spoke not, but that love born sigh — 
 
 I felt — I knew that I was blessed. 
 
 ^STAS TEMPERANTI^. 
 
 That star grew bright, its beams waxed warm, 
 
 And earth soon felt its power ; 
 From arid wastes and desert lands. 
 
 It brought forth many a flower. 
 
^STAS TEMPERANTI/E. 97 
 
 The spring had passed — the last dark cloud 
 
 Of winter flew* away, 
 And hope, and joy, and plenteous peace 
 
 Came mingled with each ray. 
 In place of thirty thousand graves, 
 
 And each a drunkard's bed ; 
 A peaceful home, or spired church, 
 
 Raised, its celestial head. 
 Instead of curses, groans and sighs, 
 
 And anguished sob and tear. 
 The music of this better day, 
 
 On every hand we hear. 
 No mother mourns to see her child 
 
 Fading in life's young hour ; 
 For man is free ; yes, doubly free 
 
 From alchohohc power. 
 No father's heart is pained to see 
 
 Intemperance in his son ; 
 For earth is cleansed — the era bright 
 
 Of temperance is begun. 
 Earth sings the song and heaven too, 
 
 " The temperance victory," 
 While years on years shall echo it 
 
 Through long eternity. 
 
98 TO Miss - 
 
 TO MISS 
 
 I'll spend my winter in the soutliern air, 
 Where tlie stars are bright and the skies are fair ; 
 Where December's wind is warm and sweet, 
 And flowers bloom gay around my feet. 
 Where a maiden's heart no dull thought knows, 
 And a maiden's eye no cold look shows. 
 Where the northern skin and white pale face, 
 To the rose-built cheek and lip give place ; 
 Where the cold sweet eyes of the northern maid 
 Yield place to those of a gentle Naiade ; 
 Which like the stars of a southern sky, 
 Fade only when those bright orbs die. 
 With a form of Juno's brightest mould, 
 Whose beauty Venus leaves untold ; 
 While Mercury loves to wait her nod, 
 Much more than that of the heaven-gilt god. 
 Around her form sweet beauties cling. 
 From her footsteps fairest flowers spring; 
 Her brow, haloed like the spirit's shrine. 
 While a smile and thought round her lips entwine. 
 Her smile, 'twould eclipse celestial rays, 
 To a wounded heait, like balm allays ; 
 Like splendors bright on a western sky. 
 So thoughts play around her angel eye. 
 
REVELATION XIX, 13 14. 99 
 
 REVELATION XIX, 13— U. 
 
 He comes ! the Eternal Judge, he comes, 
 
 In blood his vesture dipped, 
 And for the eternal judgment now, 
 
 Jehovah comes equipped. 
 Awake ; ye slumbering nations gaze ! 
 
 His fiery chariot rolls ; 
 Bis looming thunders shake the earth, 
 
 Resounding to the poles. 
 His name is called the " word of God," 
 
 The " Babe of Bethlehem." 
 A crown of thorns once decked his brow, 
 
 But now a diadem. 
 See heaven's celestial armies come ; 
 
 Their banner's proudly wave ; 
 While all, the bright inscription bears : 
 
 " He's risen from the grave.'' 
 Each conquering soldier on a horse 
 
 Of radiant white appears, 
 And each his captain's glorious name, 
 
 Upon his shield he bears. 
 Each bears a palm of victory ; - 
 
 A crown of burnished gold, 
 And " these are they, who conquering fought," 
 
 Upon their front is told. 
 
 LofC. 
 
100 TO EDWARD. 
 
 Each has a robe, washed clear and white, 
 
 In blood of richest dye, 
 And all are marching with their Lord, 
 
 In glory through the sky. 
 
 TO EDWARD. 
 
 Edward, thy path through life's unknown, 
 
 Whether cf joy or pain, 
 It may be that fame's temple high, 
 
 Or trouble's cell attain. 
 Each seed you sow of noble worth, 
 
 In life's young blushing hour, 
 Shall bud, in life's advancing day, 
 
 Into a fragrant flower. 
 Each seed of vice shall likewise grow, 
 
 And soon produce a thorn, 
 To pain each hour of happiness 
 
 In life's still happy morn. 
 Then let each thought be virtue's home, 
 
 Each action, one of love ; 
 That when away from life you've passed. 
 
 That we may meet above. 
 
TO MISS . 101 
 
 TO MISS . 
 
 Oh ! I have seen an angel, 
 
 She hves in , 
 
 That far outshines the beauty, 
 
 Or brightness of the sun. 
 Her eyes speak all of joy, 
 
 And look like stai's of glory ; 
 Her lips, like those of seraph's, 
 
 To tell some lovely story. 
 The day may be all gloomy, 
 
 No star to light the sky, 
 But still 'tis bright and joyful, 
 
 When lightened by her eye. 
 Old time may seem so dreary, 
 
 And pass so dull away, 
 'Till she, like love's sweet messenger, 
 
 Dispels her mystic ray. 
 Yes ; she's a heavenly compound 
 
 Of Beauty, Hope and Love, 
 And caught her sweet enchantment 
 
 From brighter lands above. 
 No doubt each wand'rino* an^el 
 
 Stops long to gaze on her ; 
 And beauty owns no flower 
 
 That is to her more dear. 
 
 9* 
 
103 I KNOW THERE IS A BRIGHTER LAND. 
 
 And oft, in eve's lone hour, 
 
 Love, Beauty, Hope and Mirth, 
 Together tune their harpstrings, 
 
 To this sweet flower of earth. 
 One smile on time's dull pathway, 
 
 Across life's stormy sea, 
 Would be, in darkest hours, 
 
 A beacon hght to me. 
 Sweet as yon flying sunbeam. 
 
 Across a western sky, 
 So sweetly do her love-thoughts 
 
 Illume her angel eye. 
 
 I KNOW there is a brighter land, 
 
 Beyond this stormy sea of time ; 
 Where smiling joy and lovely hopes, 
 
 Waft sweetly o'er this ideal clime. 
 This is the poet's land of thought, 
 
 Where fancy spreads her sky so fair ; 
 No darkening clouds, or wintry show^ers, 
 
 Do ever dim those bright stars there. 
 'Tis filled with seraph angels bright. 
 
 Who tune their harps to sweetest song ; 
 And sing of joy, of hope, of love, 
 
TO . 103 
 
 To them those dulcet strains belong. 
 But when I view those sunlight looks, 
 
 And eyes, which like the stars are bright, 
 A sweeter vision — far more fair — 
 
 In splendors rise before my sight. 
 'Midst all this fair, celestial throng. 
 
 Which deck this ideal fancy land. 
 Like Vesper's sunbuilt star of eve, 
 
 She shines, the brightest of the band. 
 Then thou shalt be my fancy's queen, 
 
 For thou art now my heart's fond lay, 
 And thy sweet smiles shall wreathe my brow, 
 
 And bring to me a brighter day. 
 
 TO . 
 
 Those little flowers — those little flowers- 
 
 Oh ! would they never fade ; 
 But like memory of the gift. 
 
 Which nought can ever shade. 
 Such gifts I'pass not lightly by, 
 
 'T would be a baser mind ; 
 For half my life, my love, my hope, 
 
 In flowers, like these, I find. 
 
104 THERE IS NO GOD. 
 
 And oh ! may flowers of hope and joy 
 
 Entwine my dying brow, 
 Like those sweet smiles, and dew-gilt flowers, 
 
 That I enjoy now. 
 
 THERE IS NO GOD. 
 
 " There is no God," the fool hath said, 
 
 And darkened grew his soul ; 
 " There is no God," and o'er his mind 
 
 Dark ideas seemed to roll. 
 " Ah ! is there not ?" replied the wind, 
 
 " Then who directs my course ? 
 Who guides my whirling mass along. 
 
 With such destructive force ? 
 I make the wild waves toss the ship. 
 
 And lash the rocky shore ; 
 To whom shall I, if there's no God, 
 
 My world of dead restore ?" 
 " Ah ! say not that there is no God," 
 
 Returned the little flower ; 
 " For who is He that guards my life, 
 
 So kindly, every hour ? 
 Who fills my tiny cup, each morn, 
 
THERE IS NO GOD. 105 
 
 With dew from heaven above ? 
 And, who attires my httle stem 
 
 In this sweet dress of love ?" 
 " Is there no God," the hghtnings asked, 
 
 " Then why my thunder's loom ; 
 Why shake Creation, but to warn 
 
 Man of his coming doom ?" 
 " Is there no God ?" the sun returned, 
 
 " Who gives me then my light ? 
 Who guideth through the pathless waste, 
 
 My circled course aright ?" 
 "■ There is a God !" Mount Calvary said, 
 
 " For here on me He died ; 
 There is a God, and such a one 
 
 The fool may not deride. 
 He will not, when He comes as judge, 
 
 In melting accents cry. 
 While nature shakes, and suns grow dark, 
 
 * Lama Sabacthani.' " 
 " There is a God," the cherubs say, 
 
 " We know a God above ;" 
 And seraphs strike their golden chords, 
 
 And sing that " God is love." 
 
# # 
 
 106 THE HEAVENLY RECOGNITION. 
 
 THE HEAVENLY RECOGNITION. 
 
 I WONDER, when long years have passed, 
 
 In that bright land above, 
 If we shall recognize our friends 
 
 In that sweet land of love. 
 Oh ! when our friends shall safe outride 
 
 Life's waste and stormy sea, 
 Shall we together bask in joy. 
 
 In love's sweet ocean free. 
 And when I meet this well known face, 
 
 And here and there another. 
 Oh ! shall I shout in louder strains, 
 
 'Tis Heaven ; yes, here is mother. 
 And shall I see my father stand. 
 
 With harp of sweetest strain : 
 And when he greets me welcome home, 
 
 Retouch his harp again? 
 And shall I then my brother find, 
 
 And then my sister see ; 
 And shall I live and shout His praise 
 
 Through all eternity ? 
 I know that I shall see Him there. 
 
 Who bought this hope for me ; 
 Who paid the price of all my sins 
 
 By dying on the tree. 
 
THE TWINS. 
 
 107 
 
 And when T grasp some sunlit harp, 
 
 In this bright dime above ; 
 Methinks I'll sing with long loved friends, 
 
 The glories of His love. 
 
 THE TWINS. 
 
 Two little sisters well I know, 
 
 Of modest, graceful mien ; 
 So near alike, that scarce can be 
 
 A shade of diflference seen. 
 Within their eyes, there seems to be 
 
 One soul, one life, one light ; 
 Their looks, like star-beams quivering, fall, 
 
 Like moon-rays, through the night ; 
 Like two sweet stars in ether placed. 
 
 Close by each other's side. 
 To aid each other, by their light. 
 
 Life's stormy sea to ride. 
 Like two fair clouds at morning's dawn. 
 
 The life of some sweet flower ; 
 They join their course, in silent force, 
 
 And fall in love's sweet shower. 
 Their voices, like the seraphs sounds, 
 
108 LINES. 
 
 '^'"i 
 
 Which murmurs soft and low, 
 As echoes, from the spirit land, 
 
 In measures sweet and slow. 
 Methinks their voices, even now, 
 
 Are touched by sacred fire ; 
 But what, oh ! what will be their tones, 
 
 When on some heaven-strung lyre 
 In chmes where zephyrs low and sweet, 
 
 Tune every chord to love. 
 Oh ! what will be their heavenly strains, 
 
 In that bright land above ? 
 
 LINES 
 
 WRITTEN WHILE STANDING AT THE ROOT OF A SUNFLOWER. 
 
 Indeed, thou'st raised thy towering head 
 
 Above thy sister flower ; 
 And seem as weeping, that the sun 
 
 Has set, this lovely hour. 
 Thy heart is bent with humble look, 
 
 Though tallest be thy stem ; 
 And other plants might envy thee 
 
 Thy golden diadem. 
 Then still teach us humility. 
 
LOVE. 109 
 
 Tall, towering, graceful flower ; 
 And thou shalt lift thy royal head, 
 In morn's resplendent hour. 
 
 LOVE. 
 
 When Eden's fair and beauteous bowei-s 
 
 Waved in the zephyred breeze, 
 And birds of plumage rich and rare, 
 
 Sang in the flowery trees — 
 A spirit lingered round the scene, 
 
 From brighter lands above ; 
 And as he touched his golden chords, 
 
 He sang, and sang of Love. 
 Dark skies came o'er that beauteous land, 
 
 And all was gloom above ; 
 But one bright ray still cheered the waste. 
 
 That was the ray of love. 
 Li that same land, in Bethlehem, 
 
 The morning stars did sing ; 
 And angels told to humble men. 
 
 That " glorious news we bring." 
 While stars rejoiced, and angels touched 
 
 Their glittering harps above, 
 Earth sang, and heaven's far distant climes 
 10 
 
no 
 
 Returned the notes of love. 
 Each burning eye, and throbbing heart, 
 
 And soul, has felt its power ; 
 Reviving, like morn's early dew, 
 
 On nature's sweetest flower. 
 'Tis love that lightens every pain, 
 
 And makes our pleasures dear ; 
 'Tis Love that makes the little heaven, 
 
 That we enjoy here. 
 'Tis Love's sweet music, o'er our hearts, 
 
 That bears our spirits where 
 The flowers are smiles, and thoughts are stars, 
 
 Which deck that sky so fair. 
 And when we rise to brighter climes, 
 
 This cold, dark world above, 
 On golden harps, the first sweet strain 
 
 Will be the Song of Love. 
 
 LINES 
 
 WRITTEN ON HEARING THAT SANTA ANNA HAD LEFT CUBA, IN 
 THE BRITISH ARAB, FOR MEXICO. 
 
 Capt. of the Arab. 
 Our Arab sails are wild and free. 
 To catch fair Cuba's breeze, 
 
SANTA anna's RETURN TO MEXICO. Ill 
 
 And soon our craft shall carry thee 
 
 Across the Mexican seas. 
 Believe me, though the wild waves break 
 
 And stormy sea-gulls buzz, 
 Yet soon, for Santa Anna's sake, 
 
 We'll land at Vera Cruz. 
 
 Santa Anna. 
 Then haste ye, boys, the wild breeze catch, 
 
 Then haste for Mexico, 
 And into port the brave craft fetch — 
 
 Each danger we'll forego. 
 I know that in my native land 
 
 Beats many a heart for me, 
 Then haste ye well, my sailor band,. 
 
 And bear me o'er the sea. 
 I long to hear the martial drum, 
 
 And fife's inspiring tone, 
 To hear the army's distant hum, 
 
 See the soldier's crested cone. 
 Yes ! Parades shall soon retire 
 
 From his ill-gotten power, 
 And who oppose before my fire 
 
 Shall fall like summer's shower. 
 Had I at Palo Alto been, 
 
 Resaca del Palma, 
 
112 
 
 I guess the Yankees would liave seen 
 
 A very different day. 
 But now, ere long, the Rio Grande 
 
 Shall see a different scene, 
 And I will teach the Yankee band, 
 
 That they are very green ; 
 ril crush Old Zachy and his force, 
 
 And found the Sabine line, 
 To Santa Fe direct my course, 
 
 And Texas shall be mine. 
 So saying, proudly on his hbel 
 
 The old cock-fighter turned, 
 And for his sword began to feel. 
 
 All further converse spurned. 
 A sailor standing by had heard 
 
 All that the hero said, 
 And when he had old Santa neared, 
 
 Thus was his converse led : 
 " I've heard, I think, of martial deeds 
 
 That you have done before, 
 At Alamo you many freed 
 
 And then San Jacinto." 
 " Hush ! hush !" old Santa said, "let's take 
 
 A glass of old champagne. 
 But do say nothing, for my sake, 
 
 Concerning that campaign." 
 
TO 
 
 TO 
 
 118 
 
 Oh, were I but yon little star, 
 
 That shines in yonder sky so bright, 
 'Twould be a source of joy to me 
 
 To throw around you all my light. 
 Each ray should fall around your head. 
 
 Fresh caught from brighter orbs above, 
 And as it lingered fondly there, 
 
 Should tell you of my soul's warm love. 
 Oh, were I but that little flower 
 
 That's nourished by your fairy hand, 
 That oft you've smiled upon and called 
 
 The sweetest of the flowery band. 
 Each radiant color on my bud, 
 
 As morn's beam kissed the early dew, 
 Should tell you of my brightest hopes, 
 
 My soul all loved — and only you. 
 Then let me touch love's ardent lyre. 
 
 Since I am neither star nor flower ; 
 And sing to you, in hope's fond strain. 
 
 Of love's mysterious, magic power. 
 From off a heart whose every thought 
 
 Of joy, or hope, on life's rough sea. 
 Each wish of happiness is struck. 
 
 Upon the lute that's tuned by thee. 
 
 10* 
 
114 ON THE DEATH OP MY NEPHEW. 
 
 Then let one smile, one beam of hope, 
 From off that angel face of thine, 
 
 Be sent to play around my soul, 
 
 And tell me, oh ! fond one, " 'tis mine." 
 
 ON THE DEATH OF MY NEPHEW, 
 
 AGED 5 YEARS AND 8 MONTHS. 
 
 Sweet babe thou art gone to the land of Elysian— 
 
 Far, far, away in that sweet land above, 
 That smile which played over thy angel-like features, 
 
 Is changed to a halo of cherubic love ; 
 'Twas vain to suppose in earth's chilly climate, 
 
 Thy cherub-like spirit would with us longer roam ; 
 But a far brighter region the home of the lovely, — 
 
 Hope, sweet resting place, was thy spirit's bright home ; 
 Then I will not, I cannot, touch the lute strings of sadness 
 
 To mourn that thy spirit has left us behind, 
 For 'twere sinful to wish that the soul of an angel 
 
 Should in this frail dwelling of clay be confined — 
 But this belief I will cherish in solitude's hour. 
 
 When sleep's fond obHvion falls over my head ; 
 That our souls shall hold loving and blissful communion. 
 
 As his care-taking vigils call him oft round my bed ; 
 
FLOWERS THAT BLOOM BY THE WILD SEA SHORE 115 
 
 Till we meet where lie's gone, in the land of Elysian, 
 
 Far, far, away in that bright land above, 
 Where the smiles that played over his angel-like features, 
 
 Are chano^ed to brio^ht halos of cherubic love. 
 
 " THE FLOWERS THAT BLOOM ON THE WILD 
 SEA SHORE." 
 
 The flowers that bloom on the wild sea shore, 
 'Mid the dashing spray and the breaker's roar ; 
 While the loud, wild roar of the crested wave, 
 Sings a requiem now, of their early grave. 
 They bloom like the maiden's cherished thoughts, 
 Of the love her early hopes have sought : 
 Like an angel's face through the stormy sky. 
 Or the cherished smile near the saddened sigh. 
 They stand on the verge of Flora's land- 
 Like the sentries of her flowery band— 
 The first approach of the blast to meet, 
 The first of the morning's beams to greet. 
 No zephyred breezes soft and slow, 
 Waft music o'er this rock-built shore ; 
 While the storm's rash fury, wild and loud, 
 Leaps by in its haste, from cloud to cloud. 
 But oft when the sun has gone to rest, 
 
116 TO . 
 
 And heaven in her starry robe is dressed — 
 
 Low zephyrs sigh, wild, sweet and slow, 
 
 O'er the flowers that bloom by the wild sea shore. 
 
 They bloom like the touch of an angel's lyre, 
 
 Or the strains that's raised by love's sweet fire ; 
 
 Oh ! may I sing — may I see once more, 
 
 The flowers that bloom on the wild sea shore. 
 
 TO , 
 
 When nature drew her pencil forth, 
 And sketched eve's roseate hue 
 
 'Twas but a dash her master touch, 
 
 Was when she painted you. 
 
 TO 
 
 'Tis not that the eyes of the gazelle are thine. 
 
 Or the beautiful, raven-like tress ; 
 Or the smiles which like thoughts on beauty's sweet sea, 
 
 Might an angel in brighter lands bless ; 
 'Tis not, that thy voice like seraphic tones. 
 
 Melodious, sweet, touching and low, 
 
TO . 117 
 
 Like the zephyrs which whisper of beauty and love 
 
 Sighing softly o'er Flora's bright shore. 
 Oh ! no, 'tis a something still brighter, and fair. 
 
 Like the shade of that sweet land above 
 Showing all that is bright, that is charming or dear. 
 
 And imperiously bids me to love. 
 'Tis the shade of an angel — 'tis the spirit of Hope ; 
 
 'Tis the thought on which cherubim feed ; 
 Tis the Persian peri, 'tis the houri of thought, 
 
 In the fanciful land of the East. 
 Oh ! spirit of Hope, thy assistance I ask. 
 
 That her smile, may enlighten my sky ; 
 That a soft beam of love, round my spirit may hang. 
 
 Like the bow round the sunbeam on high. 
 
 TO 
 
 When beauty wove a wreath of smiles, 
 Love snatched away the gem. 
 
 And placing there his heavenly seal. 
 Made it thy diadem. 
 
118 THE FLOWER OP HOPE. 
 
 THE "FLOWER OF, HOPE." 
 
 There blooins in Shiraz's beauteous vale, 
 
 A simple flower alone ; 
 No other floweret half so sweet, 
 
 In beauty ever shone. 
 While zephyrs wave the flowers around, 
 
 O'er wooded hill and slope ; 
 It blooms, the fairest of the fair, 
 
 The lovely flower of Hope. 
 They say, it is a food for love, 
 
 A cure for cold despair, 
 And blooms the same, 'neath cloud and storm, 
 
 As when the sky is fair. 
 When winter's cold and chilling frost. 
 
 Dooms Flora to her grave. 
 No other but the "Flower of Hope," 
 
 Will cruel Autumn save. 
 Sweet flower, forever in my heart, 
 
 A home I'll give to thee ; 
 Like star beams in a wintry night, 
 
 Or thoughts on love's sweet sea. 
 And oh ! if disappointments shroud, 
 
 My soul in love's last hour. 
 One star shall on my spirit gleam. 
 
 That star is Hope's bright flower. 
 
TO MY FRIEND. 119 
 
 TO MY " FRIEND," 
 
 Full ten long months have passed my friend, 
 
 Since we last met together ; 
 Our barks have sailed o'er time's rough sea, 
 
 Through bright and stormy weather. 
 Gay was the scene and bright our hopes, 
 
 While dear ones stood around us, 
 ■ And while the tear wreathed by a smile, 
 
 Told of the ties which bound us. 
 Sweet music, too, swept softly on, 
 
 Like zephyr's gently sigh'ng, 
 Or angels, when in harmony, 
 
 Their dulcet strains are joining ; 
 Oh ! these were days, bright days my friend, 
 
 When love, was all our duty, 
 When fiiendship bowed to noble worth, 
 
 Our young hearts bowed to beauty. 
 The smiles that blessed us then, my friend, 
 
 And placed us in Elysian, 
 Have passed — but still are fresh and bright. 
 
 Upon my memory's -vision. 
 Like pleasant dreams, or thoughts of love, 
 
 In hope's reviving hour ; 
 They hang, in mystic shadows bright, 
 
 And speak of friendship's power. 
 
120 LINES. 
 
 A power whicli binds us now my friend, 
 That no rude hand may sever ; 
 
 Shall bind us still, through life and death 
 Forever and forever. 
 
 "LINES." 
 
 Say, when we meet in that bright land, 
 
 The starry sphere above, 
 Oh ! will our hearts be guided then 
 
 Still by the voice of love. 
 Shall we, when angels round the throne, 
 
 Who tune their harps of praise. 
 Shall we need angels round the throne, 
 
 Love's touching music raise ? 
 Shall we when elders cast their crowns, 
 
 And shout with one accord, 
 Shall we on harps of sweeter strings 
 
 Sing love to Christ the Lord ? 
 Oh ! yes 'mid all the brighter joys 
 
 Of that celestial land, 
 On lyres attuned to sweeter themes. 
 
 Shall sing love's chosen band ; 
 
TO HER I LOVE. 121 
 
 Oh ! yes, when long* loved fi'iends shall meet 
 In that bright land above ; 
 
 In strains taught by redeeming grace, 
 They still shall sing of Love. 
 
 TO "HER I LOVE." 
 
 " 'TwKRB all one 
 To love some bright, celestial star, 
 And think to wed it." 
 
 'Twas years ago, when I was gay, 
 
 And romped the green vale o'er, 
 And built my tiny vessel. 
 
 Upon the streamlet's shore. 
 One day, (I never knew the cause,) 
 
 My soul in thought was bound ; 
 And 'neath the flowers I laid my head, 
 
 Upon the mossy ground. 
 Soft slumbers bent my eyelids down. 
 
 And zephyrs fanned my cheek ; 
 I thought I'd freely give the world. 
 
 If those sweet flowers could speak. 
 My soul was lonely, even then 
 
 It knew not what to love : 
 
 11 
 
 « 
 
122 TO HER I LOVE. 
 
 It had no objects to adore, 
 
 But those which dwell above. 
 But fancy came, or love, or heaven, 
 
 And brought a spirit fair. 
 Whose image shone upon my soul, 
 
 And left its impress there. 
 Oh ! she was fairer far, than hope 
 
 Or fancy could suggest ; 
 She smiled, and radiant were her looks, 
 
 I felt that I was blessed. 
 Her thoughts played o'er her ruby hps. 
 
 Like moonbeams on the wave ; 
 It seemed one tear from her bright eye, 
 
 A world of grief would lave. 
 Her voice was like the trembling wind, 
 
 Or harp of sweetest strain ; 
 But sweeter still, she softly said, 
 
 " We part to meet again." 
 And once again, that vision bright. 
 
 Upon my path has beamed. 
 Unconscious that her counterpart 
 
 Upon my spirit gleamed. 
 'Twas all the same as when it was 
 
 First stamped upon my heart ; 
 And with it, for a thousand worlds. 
 
 My spirit would not part. 
 
THOUGHTS OF THEE. 123 
 
 OH! WILL YOU GO AVITH ME, LOVE? 
 
 Oh ! will you go with me, love, 
 
 To Ital's sunny plain. 
 Where flowers bloom forever, 
 
 And love and music reign? 
 Bright skies shall be above us, 
 
 And stars shall glitter there, 
 While gentle zephp-s murmur • 
 
 Amid the flowerets fair. 
 Sweet music shall surround us, 
 
 With its enchanting lay ; 
 In climes of love and beauty, 
 
 'Twill be a better day. 
 But oh ! 'twould all be dull, love. 
 
 No pleasance have for me. 
 Without hope whispered, sweetly, 
 
 "I am beloved by thee." 
 
 THOUGHTS OF THEE. 
 
 The moon rides clear in yonder sky, 
 And stars are gleaming fair and bright ; 
 
 While zephyrs wave the flowers around. 
 And dew-drops tremble in the light. 
 
 •t 
 
124 OH, LET ME LIVE 'mID FLOWERS. 
 
 Eacli moonbeam, as it passes by, 
 
 Seems whispering to me of love ; 
 While stars in brilliant sweetness shine. 
 
 Far in the blue-gilt land above. 
 But, ah, each star in yon bright land 
 
 Would fade before your angel eye ; 
 And zephyrs pass unheeded on. 
 
 Were love to draw one smothered sigh. 
 
 OH, LET ME LIVE 'MID FLOWERS. 
 
 Oh, let me live 'mid flowers. 
 
 Those sweet and lovely things ; 
 Each o'er this vale of sorrows 
 
 Such bright'ning radiance flings. 
 Bright stars in beauty's coronet. 
 
 Their language all of love ; 
 Oh, is there not sweet flowers 
 
 In that bright land above ? 
 Oh, let me die 'mid flowers. 
 
 In evening's calm decline. 
 And let the floweret's fragrance 
 
 The evening breeze refine. 
 Let vesper's sighing zephyrs 
 
 Blow o'er me Flora's bloom. 
 

 SIC VERTICE CCELI CONSTITET. 125 
 
 Then death, amid the flowers, 
 
 Is robbed of all its gloom. 
 Oh, let me sleep 'mid flowers. 
 
 My long and lasting sleep, 
 And let their blooming petals 
 
 My tomb at evening sweep. 
 And let my silent pillow 
 
 Of roses bright be made ; 
 Sweet \nolets and forget-me-nots 
 
 Upon my bosom laid. 
 Oh, let me live 'mid flowers, 
 
 In my eternal home, 
 And o'er their vales and meadows. 
 
 Through all their beauties roam. 
 And when I touch my harpstring-s, 
 
 'Midst those celestial bowers, 
 I'll sing of Him who made me, 
 
 And blessed me with those flowers. 
 
 SIC VERTICE CGELI CONSTITET.—^neid, i, 225. 
 
 Almighty Jove, the king of gods. 
 
 On highest ether stood, 
 While round him revelled mighty winds. 
 
 And rolled the angry flood. 
 11* 
 
126 SIC VERTICE CCELI CONSTITET. 
 
 With awful majesty lie views 
 
 Old Neptune's rolling sea, 
 Constitet (as lie looks on earth,) 
 
 On coeli vertice. 
 With awful voice his thunders speak, 
 
 Far o'er the Lybyan shores, 
 And nations quake, as o'er their lands, 
 
 His hghtning shafts he pours. 
 Sed Venus tristior, sad with grief — 
 
 Sweet queen of beauty's land — - 
 Well might thy father's awful brow 
 
 Relax at thy command. 
 Sweet goddess, with her angel face ; 
 
 Her eyes suffused with tears ; 
 Her voice, like trembling zephyrs low ; 
 
 Harp of celestial cares. 
 From Heaven's bright threshold, lo ! he comes ; 
 
 'Tis beauty's magic wand 
 That rules the sky, and Jove, himself. 
 
 Obeys its sweet command. 
 
 4. 
 
TO 
 
 TO 
 
 127 
 
 Oh, would that I were happy 
 
 Within this soul of mine ; 
 Would some bright star of beauty 
 
 Upon my spirit shine. 
 Could wealth, with all its power, 
 
 That single gem command, 
 I'd give the rich productions 
 
 Of Peru's golden land. 
 Were there an isle in ocean's 
 
 Expanse of glittering wave ; 
 Like Parphar's healing waters 
 
 I might my spirit lave. 
 There, then, my spirit ever 
 
 Should bask 'neath sunny skies ; 
 And when the stars of beauty, 
 
 In pleasing order rise. 
 There is an isle, thus beautiful. 
 
 In love's Elysian sea. 
 And that sweet isle confesses 
 
 No other queen but thee. 
 Then, when I would be happy, 
 
 I live on this sweet isle. 
 Thy thoughts are all its starlight ; 
 
 It's sun — thy seraph smile. 
 
128 BUT HE COULD NOT BE HID. 
 
 "BUT HE COULD NOT BE HID."— Mark, vii, 21. 
 
 Oh, say, can yon bright silver moon 
 
 That rules the starry night, 
 As moving on her star-gilt course, 
 
 Be hid from mortal sight ? 
 Ah ! yes, dark clouds may intervene, 
 
 And hide her silver face ; 
 But still we know that glorious moon 
 
 Is in her heavenly place. 
 That burning sun — the king of day — 
 
 His rays, too, may be hid, 
 As on he rides in majesty, 
 
 The blue-gilt heaven amid. 
 But he, the glorious light of heaven. 
 
 His rays beam e'er the same. 
 And nought could hide or intercept 
 
 Love's bright eternal flame. 
 'Twas virtue's sun — that brighter star, 
 
 Coursed heavenly deeds amid ; 
 His light fresh caught from love's sweet home. 
 
 On €arth could not be hid. 
 
THOUGHTS OF THE BEAUTIFUL. 129 
 TO . 
 
 I WROTE your name upon the sand, 
 
 In letters deep and clear ; 
 I went, and when I came again, 
 
 Alas ! it was not there. 
 I wrote your name upon the shore, 
 
 "Where winds their revels play, 
 And when I came, some en^dous wave, 
 
 Had washed it ail away. 
 I graved it deeply on the rock 
 
 That ages had not torn ; 
 But, even there, some wayward hand 
 
 Had all its beauty shorn. 
 I wrote it then, in colors bright. 
 
 Upon my spirit's shrine. 
 Though waves may roll yet years to come, 
 
 I still shall call it mine. 
 
 # 
 
 THOUGHTS OF THE BEAUTIFUL. 
 
 Oh ! is there not within the soul 
 
 A place that's unprofaned. 
 Where fancy spreads her heavenly Avings, 
 
 By reason unconstrained ? 
 
130 THOUGHTS OP THE BEAUTIPULr 
 
 There must be ; for how oft at eve ; 
 
 Still, silent, tranquil hour, 
 IVe fancied that an angel's face 
 
 Peered forth from every flower. 
 And when the summer evening's breeze 
 
 Swept low and lovely by. 
 My soul has held its breathings in 
 
 To catch a seraph's sigh. 
 How oft, when yon bright, fadeless sun, 
 
 Has lain himself to rest, 
 And stars began to glitter bright 
 
 Upon- the ocean's breast. 
 While vesper's breeze swept sweetly on, 
 
 O'er mountain, stream and flower. 
 And angels, too, seemed whispering 
 
 Of love's enchanting power. 
 I've fancied that each sunwreathed cloud 
 
 Assumed an angel's form, 
 And bid me come and live with them 
 
 Away from sorrow's storm. 
 And while those lovely shapes I saw. 
 
 In that bright land above. 
 It seemed I cauffht an ano-el's strain 
 
 In sweetest strains of love. 
 Oh ! tell me not that there's no place 
 
 "Where beauty has her home ; 
 
 ♦ . 
 
WRITTEN ON HEARING OF 's INDISPOSITION. 131 
 
 Where all the finer thoughts of love 
 
 In pleasure's clime may roam. 
 I know there is, within the soul, 
 
 A place all unprofaned ; 
 Where fancy spreads her heavenly wing, 
 
 By reason unconstrained. 
 
 WRITTEN ON HEARING OF 'S INDISPOSITION. 
 
 Thou art sick, fair one, I hear, 
 
 And the bloom that's on thy cheek 
 Has faded, like the roses, 
 
 Before the north wind bleak. 
 Oh ! why should pain, stern tyrant. 
 
 This fair selection make ; 
 Like a violet on the mountain, 
 
 The rude wild winds do shake ? 
 Stay — thy impious hand and cease ; 
 
 Wild winds, touch not that flower ; 
 Go then — depart — let sterner ones 
 
 Resist thy deathly power. 
 Oh, would mine were the fortune 
 
 To smile when thou didst smile, 
 And, through health's days and hours, 
 
 With thee the mom-ents while. 
 
122 FORGET THEE ! 
 
 Oh, would mine were the fortune 
 
 To bear each pain thou dost ; 
 For when I suffered for thee, 
 
 Then thou would'st love me most. 
 When on thy face, sweet angel, 
 
 Bright smiles, in dimples form, 
 Be mine, like ocean's waters, 
 
 Disturbed by sorrow's storm ; 
 Be mine thy fate, fair angel, 
 
 In pain or pleasure's home ; 
 Be mine, where'er thou goest, 
 
 With only thee to roam. 
 And when death's hand hath sought thee, 
 
 And laid thee low to rest ; 
 Oh, may my head be pillowed 
 
 Upon thy cold, cold breast. 
 
 FORGET THEE ! 
 
 Forget thee ! if forgetting is 
 To think of thee by day. 
 
 And with thy beauteous image 
 In fancy ever stay ; 
 
 To sigh of thee when vesper 
 Looks fondly on the earth ; 
 
MY HOME. 133 
 
 My joys with thine to mingle 
 
 In brightest hours of mirth ; 
 To blend thee in each landscape, 
 
 With eve's most brilliant hue, 
 And sing that love and beauty 
 
 Thy seraph image drew ; 
 To blend, in ties of friendship, 
 
 With thee my future lot ; 
 If this thou callest forgetting, 
 
 Thou art indeed forgot. 
 Remember thee ! yes, ever. 
 
 Though time's cold hand may part ; 
 'Twill ne'er erase thine image 
 
 In beauty from my heart. 
 For like the birds of Perse, 
 
 Which no wild winds can sever, 
 Thy memory will be with me 
 
 Forever and forever. 
 
 MY HOME. 
 
 Oh, yes, I have a distant home. 
 
 Where wild birds sing their pretty song. 
 And flowery meads and fertile vales. 
 
 To wandering streams and brooks belong. 
 Oh, yes, I have a winsome home, 
 12 
 
134 MY HOME. 
 
 In gunny climes and flowery plains, 
 Where music, from sequestered groves. 
 
 Breathes fondly out Eolian strains. 
 'Twas there my boyhood's gleesome hours, 
 
 In romping and in love were spent ; 
 Now prattling round my father's knees. 
 
 Then on some little mischief bent. 
 But then came hours, sad parting hours — 
 
 A sister's kiss — a mother's tears — 
 A father's admonitions given 
 
 To strengthen hope and quell my fears. 
 On life's wild sea, my trembling bark. 
 
 By adverse winds and storms is driven. 
 Away from home — away from home. 
 
 From home and all I love am riven. 
 But still, in solitude's lone hour. 
 
 Fond memory speaks to me of home ; 
 Its visions round my soul shall hang, 
 
 Where'er o'er earth's wild waste I roam. 
 But now I have another home ; 
 
 A fond, sweet home in love's own land, 
 Where fancy hves in sighs and smiles. 
 
 And reason knows not to command* 
 'Tis there ray spirit loves to rest, 
 
 When sleep, earth's coarser souls has bound. 
 And sigh and sing of love and flowers, 
 
 While star-beams gild the concave round. 
 
TO . 135 
 
 This be my home — my own sweet home, 
 The brightest isle in love's soft sea ; 
 
 In fancy I shall live at home, 
 
 And know, my love, that home is thee. 
 
 TO 
 
 They say that in a forest wild, 
 
 In Eastern lands where skies are bright. 
 And pearly brooks flow sweetly on, 
 
 Like liquid jewels to the sight. 
 That once there grew a stately oak, 
 
 Though years had not its branches shorn ; 
 But still the pride of forest trees, 
 
 It lived the wild-woods to adorn. 
 Close by, a dahlia's sparkling leaves, 
 
 Sent bright defiance to the stars. 
 While sunbeams, quick to kiss her face, 
 
 Came glancing on their dewy cars. 
 But oak perceived the coming storm, 
 
 From which bright flowers are not exempt, 
 And offered shelter to the flower, 
 
 Which dahlia scorned with cold contempt. 
 The storm came on, its pitiless blasts 
 
 Drove dahlia to an early gi*ave. 
 
136 TO 
 
 And sadly oak mourned for the flower, 
 
 He would not, for he could not save. 
 And fondly still, the hope he held. 
 
 That that bright flower would bloom once more 
 In climes where love shall speak of love, 
 
 And smiles shall fondly clasp the shore. 
 That there, neglect shall not be known. 
 
 And love shall yield to coldness never ; 
 That then the smiles of that bright flower 
 
 Shall gleam upon his soul forever. 
 
 TO 
 
 Afar from thee the flowers bloom, 
 
 Like star hght beaming on the sea ; 
 But ah, their beauties only make 
 
 Me feel more sad away from the ; 
 For hope's sweet flower, upon my heart, 
 
 Once hke the star, in skies more bright, 
 Has faded, drooped its early leaves, 
 
 And only left its fragrance there. 
 Afar from thee, yon glittering stars, 
 
 Night's brilliant diadem adorn ; 
 But ah, no benm falls on my soul 
 
 But tells me I am all forlorn. 
 
LINES. 137 
 
 For that bright star which sanguine hope 
 
 Once placed within my own dark sky, 
 Casts not one beam npou my soul, 
 
 Or only beams so soon to die. 
 Then welcome sohtude — yon moon 
 
 Will cheer me with its radiant power. 
 And only this, my only care, 
 
 Will be to cherish hope's sweet flower. 
 When other hearts turn coldly off. 
 
 Let hope's bright flower still bloom for me ; 
 W^hen no one else thy memory'll know, 
 
 Still fondly I shall think of thee. 
 
 LINES, 
 
 Lady, 'tis said in the bright sky of heaven 
 
 There was need for another bright star to be placed, 
 That a still Kghter beam to its vales might be given, 
 
 And the last trace of darkness from heaven erased. 
 'Twas a sad mournful time when the bright Pleiades 
 
 Knew their fate was to lose their sweet sister of light. 
 And their tears were like moonbeams on flowery leas. 
 
 But their sister was borne to a home still more bright. 
 And now, when the stars on a summer's eve sky, 
 
 Shine out on the earth with their beauty and love, 
 12* 
 
138 TO . 
 
 How placidly sweet the six sisters do lie, 
 
 Looking fondly on lier in the bright land above. 
 'Twas thus with your sweet little cherubic Alice, 
 
 She was wanted at home, in the heaven of love ; 
 To adorn those bright halls — that celestial palace — 
 
 The abode of the loved ones that He calls above. 
 Then sigh not nor weep, for you could not desire 
 
 This flower to bloom upon earth's arid soil. 
 Where the fond hopes of love will from trouble retire. 
 
 And the brightest of hopes disappointments not foil. 
 Oh, no, let the sunhght of hope still be given, 
 
 When youVe weathered time's storm upon life's lonely 
 sea, 
 Your bark may be moored with your Alice in heaven, 
 
 And may meeting and love an eternity be. 
 
 TO 
 
 Oh ! Isabella, when the sunset 
 Trembles on the flowery hills. 
 
 And the gentle winds are sighing. 
 To my lonely soul " be still." 
 
 When the stars from yon bright curtain, 
 In that distant land above, 
 
ON THE DEATH OF A CHILD. 139 
 
 Shine with all their radiant splendor, 
 
 Like fond beauty's thoughts of love. 
 Oh, 'tis then, fond Isabella, 
 
 That I love to think of thee. 
 When my soul in all the heaven 
 
 Of thy loveliness is free. 
 Basking in hope's brightest sunlight — 
 
 Hope that brings a heaven to me ; 
 Hope that answers all my wishes' 
 
 Only to be loved by thee. 
 But say — has fate, fair Isabella, 
 
 Doomed my spirit but to grief; 
 Is there no smile of thine, sweet seraph. 
 
 Bringing to my soul relief ? 
 I'd give a world of fame and honor — 
 
 The brightest gems that ever shone : 
 I'd give it all to claim the boon 
 
 Of being loved by thee, alone. 
 
 ON THE DEATH OF A CHILD. 
 
 " Death found strange beauty on that cherub's brow, 
 And dashed it out." 
 
 She lay so calmly on her couch, 
 I thought she was but sleeping ; 
 
140 ON THE DEATH OF A CHILD. 
 
 A smile played o'er her cherub face 
 
 Like starlight sweetly streaming. 
 Strange beauty played upon her brow, 
 
 Like thoughts on love's sweet sea, 
 Or like some tone of seraph's harp, 
 
 From heaven's vale set free. 
 I could not think that death would mark 
 
 This cherub for his own ; 
 So much like innocence and love, 
 
 A floweret bud half blown. 
 But, ah, 'twas vain ; my fondest hopes, 
 
 Death w:as resolved to mar ; 
 She faded from affliction's hand. 
 
 As fades the morning star. 
 As dies yon wave along the shore ; 
 
 As sinks' yon star to rest. 
 She calmly breathed her spirit out. 
 
 And with her God was blessed. 
 I will not weep — I will not mourn ; 
 
 I would not have her here. 
 Where tempests blow and sorrow's storm 
 
 Disturb this sea of care. 
 No, no, but let me seek to meet 
 
 In that bright land above. 
 My Alice in the eternal clime 
 
 Where all is joy and love. 
 
LINES. 
 
 141 
 
 Unknown to sorrow we shall rove 
 
 O'er heaven's Elysian plain, 
 Nor shall our spirits ever fear, 
 
 That we shall part again. 
 This be my hope, when saddest hours 
 
 Across my spirit come, 
 That Alice shall my guardian be, 
 
 Upoa my journey home. 
 And when my bark is safely moored, 
 
 And entrance to me given, 
 A long eternity I'll spend 
 
 With Alice and with heaven. 
 
 LINES. 
 
 She sat upon a lonely rock, 
 
 By Afton's lovely murmuring stream, 
 While moon -rays danced upon the wave, 
 
 And stars sent forth a trembling gleam. 
 The morning birds had hushed their song, 
 
 And each had told his lovely tale ; 
 No wild-wood note was echoed, save 
 
 Night's minstrel bird — the nightingale. 
 Her fingers swept the lone guitar. 
 
 While zephyrs vied the notes so sweet ; 
 
142 TO 
 
 Like zephyr's song, or angel's lyre, 
 
 As in the vales of love they meet. 
 She sang of love, of hope, of joy ; 
 
 Of fonder days and brighter hours. 
 While smiles played o'er her lovely face. 
 
 Like star-beams dancing 'mid the flowers. 
 Oh, her's were thoughts of living love, 
 
 Though buried deep within her heart. 
 She loved the murmuring breeze and stream, 
 
 Nor with them would she ever part. 
 I envied stream — the brook — the flower ; 
 
 For they her cherub smiles could gain. 
 While all my fondest hojDes were stilled, 
 
 I loved ; but ah, I loved in vain. 
 
 TO 
 
 There is an hour when sunlight fades. 
 
 And stars peep out from lands above ; 
 When brighter hopes my mind invades. 
 
 And makes me own the power of love. 
 I like not that this holier hour 
 
 By ruder thoughts should be disturbed 
 But, still, by love's resistless power. 
 
 Let every thought and hope be curbed. 
 
TO . 143 
 
 Then let me, -witli my mellow lute, 
 
 Beside some murmuring streamlet go, 
 Where zephyrs sigh, the wild birds mute. 
 
 As o'er the violet's bud they blow. 
 Then when the star-beams quiver bright 
 
 Upon the brilliant gems of dew, 
 And moon-rays dance upon the night, 
 
 'Tis then, fond one, I think of you. 
 'Tis then that chord of deepest strain, 
 
 That only thou hast power to touch, 
 Re-echoes to that hope again. 
 
 Which only hopes when hours are such. 
 Oh, would that thou wert by my side, 
 
 To muse with me this lovely hour ; 
 That I could all my soul confide, 
 
 And thou would'st feel love's mystic power. 
 Oh, that my bark, on hfe's rough sea, 
 
 With wintry storms and skies above it, 
 Had no one at the helm but thee. 
 
 If I could hope for you to love it. 
 There'd he an hour when smiles would shine 
 
 Upon my soul, of loveliest hue ; f 
 
 That hour would paradise refine. 
 
 The hour that I was loved by you. 
 
144 TO 
 
 TO 
 
 I WOULD that on some lovely isle, 
 
 In fancy's sweetest, brightest sea ; 
 That I were living with a world. 
 
 And thou would'st be that world to me. 
 Thy voice should be my music's life. 
 
 Like vesper's sighing breeze of love ; 
 Or angel when, forgetfully, 
 
 He musing, struck his harp above. 
 I'd want no sun — thine eye should be, 
 
 The only sun that clime should own ; 
 Far sweeter than the brightest star, 
 
 That ever in Elysian shone. 
 ISTo bow across its heaven but what 
 
 Thy smiles should weave its roseate hue, 
 For all my fancy formed of love. 
 
 My spirit would detect in you. 
 Then say, shall I that music want. 
 
 Or wander through that land so dark ; 
 Be thou my sun — my promise bow, 
 
 By which to guide my life's frail bark. 
 
145 
 
 THY NAME WAS ONCE A MAGIC SPELL. 
 
 Again that name my spirit wakes, 
 
 All lovely as before, 
 Like a song that died on an angel's harp, 
 
 Awaked on a brighter shore. 
 With its mournful tones when sadness comes 
 
 It soothes my sorrowing heart. 
 As a seraph's notes on love's soft lyre 
 
 Their sweetest sounds impart. 
 Thy name is still the magic spell 
 
 By which my heart is moved, 
 Like home to the weary wanderer. 
 
 Far from the one he loved. 
 And when my thoughts, o'er hfe's lone sea, 
 
 Through disappointments roam ; 
 Tis in th}^ name — thy lovely name — 
 
 My lost hopes find their home. 
 
 A SUMMER'S MORNING. 
 
 There's a bloom in the forest — 
 There's a song in the grove ; 
 
 There are features of pleasure 
 Wherever I rove. 
 13 
 
146 A summer's morning. 
 
 There are hopes on the heart 
 
 Like the first buds of spring ; 
 There is love in the wild woods 
 
 Where forest birds sing. 
 There are murmuring brooks 
 
 Flowing sweetly along, 
 And Aurora seems listening 
 
 To the fair streamlet's song. 
 The tall village spires 
 
 Are bathed in the light, 
 That, quivering to battle, 
 
 Is victorious o'er night. 
 The hills, as they rise 
 
 In the distance away, 
 Seem melting their tops 
 
 In the fair light of day. 
 Tis the last briUiant landscape 
 
 By Paradise left. 
 When the world of Elysium 
 
 By sin was bereft. 
 p 'Tis a miniature emblem 
 
 Of a morn in that land 
 Where the h^art knows no wish 
 
 But love's sweet command. 
 But the morning is up, 
 
 And this dull scene of care, 
 
ONCE MORE, WHO WOULD NOI' BE A BOY? 147 
 
 Tells the soul wanting rest, 
 That his home is not here. 
 
 "ONCE MORE, WHO WOULD NOT BE A BOY?" 
 
 Oh ! would I were u boy again, 
 
 Beside the little murmnring stream. 
 Where oft, 'mid boyhood's happier hours, 
 
 I wandered by the moonlight's gleam. 
 Oh, yes, I'd be a boy nQ,'ain, 
 
 Too young to love — too young to care — 
 Although another, colder soul, 
 
 Had gained the heart I held most dear. 
 Oh yes 1 I'd be a boy once more, 
 
 For then I could not hope to gain 
 The heart of which I love to think, 
 
 And think to love is all in vain. 
 Oh ! let me be a boy again. 
 
 And heed not disappointment's lot, 
 That ray young heart might soon forget 
 
 Its lonelit-st state — by you forgot. 
 Oh ! well, I'll be a boy once more. 
 
 Too young to hope or love again, 
 Since my young heart's first opening bud 
 
 Dispelled its fragrance all in vain. 
 
148 TO . 
 
 Then if anotlier has thy Eeart, 
 So much like innocence above, 
 
 Give me a flower whose language is 
 Too young to love — too young to love ! 
 
 TO 
 
 I SAW thee but an hour, 
 
 When dearer friends were near, 
 And pleasure's fonder power 
 
 Had dissipated care. 
 But oh ! how deep with feeling 
 
 That single hour was fraught. 
 What soft, what sweet sensations, 
 
 It to my spirit brought. 
 Like Afric's bright oasis 
 
 Upon the desert's waste, 
 Or star gleams dancing fondly 
 
 Around the tomb's lone place. 
 Where'er o'er life's dreary ocean. 
 
 Mid joy or grief, I roam, 
 I e'er shall call that hour 
 
 My memory's brightest home. 
 " Good-bye," thou wouldst not brighten 
 
 My Hfe's lone weary lot. 
 
TO . 149 
 
 Then bless some one more happy, 
 " Good-bye," forget me not. 
 
 TO 
 
 I SING to thee again, Ada, 
 
 The ideal of my thought, 
 For sadness tunes my harp-strings, 
 
 With melancholy fraught. 
 I tell thee nought of love, Ada, 
 
 I've told thee all before. 
 And yet my lute seems wishful 
 
 To tell thee something more. 
 But thou shalt never sneer, Ada, 
 
 To think that love is weak. 
 And when the heart is slighted 
 
 The spirit cannot speak. 
 As the camomile's sweet flower 
 
 Will rise when trampled on, 
 So ambition springs with power 
 
 'Neath withering clouds of scorn. 
 And if I sing to thee, Ada, 
 
 My angel and my dream, 
 My heart is not so broken 
 
 As it to you may seem. 
 13* 
 
150 A PILGRIMAGE. 
 
 Ambition ! is its monarch, Ada, 
 
 But love's ambition's queen, 
 And when she gives no laurels 
 
 I'm with the monarch seen. 
 I make but one request, Ada, 
 
 (My queen would bid me not,) 
 And I can scarcely ask that I 
 
 May be by you forgot. 
 Then fare thee well, my angel, 
 
 Hope's star has fled my sky, 
 And beams for one more happy 
 
 Within thy brilUant eye. 
 
 "A PILGRIMAGE." (Not Childe Harold's.) 
 
 'TwAs early day, as poet's say, 
 
 While morning beams were gUttering, 
 Upon the dew, and birds not few, 
 
 Were in the tree-tops chittering. 
 To Camden we, in highest glee, 
 
 Our farewell song were singing, 
 Till days passed by without a sigh. 
 
 Or tear of sadness springing. 
 Our driver soon, a smart old coon, 
 
 Had got his one horse ready. 
 
 ♦ 
 
A PILGRIMAGE. 151 
 
 'Neath such a load the Httle toad 
 
 I thought could ne'er get steady. 
 But off we start, in pace "right smart," 
 
 With many a mile to travel, 
 And many a hill and many a rill, 
 
 Their mysteries to unravel. 
 Our driver, he, with all his glee. 
 
 Had many a stoiy told us. 
 And kinky heads, from darker beds, 
 
 Came running to behold us. 
 We trudged along, with snatch of song, 
 
 O'er rising hill and valley. 
 While thoughts of home, while here we roam, 
 
 Our flagging spirits rally. 
 "^ But night came on, succeeding morn. 
 
 And earth was wrapped in gloom. 
 And stars shone bright, like beauty's light, 
 
 Around affection's tomb ; 
 The Pleiades, like crystal seas. 
 
 Bathed in the light above. 
 Made Dick and I, so lonely, sigh 
 
 x\nd think of those we love. 
 While Jehu drove through field and grove, 
 
 Enwrapped in beauty's light, 
 It seemed his soul, from pole to pole, 
 
 Was contemplating night. 
 
162 TO A FRIEND. 
 
 He speaks, all hark, the night is dark, 
 
 His mind in beauty floats : 
 " Alas 1 alas ! a pretty pass, 
 
 My horse aint had no oats." 
 " Enough," cried I, " let fancy die, 
 
 'Mid no sumblimer strains, 
 'Twas like soft loves, when cooed by doves 
 
 And echoed to by cranes. 
 
 TO A FKIEND. 
 
 'Twas years ago, my friend, we met, 
 
 In youth's impulsive hour. 
 When scarce a trouble came along 
 
 To dampen friendship's power. 
 We roamed beside the winding rill, 
 
 Willie friendship's vow was new, 
 And each one pledged in holy tie 
 
 To be to other true. 
 We, wandering with the morn's first beam. 
 
 To brush the early dew^, 
 But, ere we grasped the sunlight's ray, 
 
 It off in beauty flew. 
 We stood beside earth's fairer ones. 
 
 When music ruled the hour, 
 
TO A FRIEND. 153 
 
 Wheu first our hearts began to feel 
 
 Love's soft, mj^sterious power. 
 But adverse winds and tides arose, 
 
 And drove my bark from thee, 
 While no one stood upon the deck, 
 
 To guide the helm for me. 
 And oft I saw the streamlet's wave 
 
 Dash wildly 'midst the spray, 
 And not one beam of sunlight fair 
 
 Irradiate my day. 
 And oft the harp which sang so sweet, 
 
 When our young hearts were gay, 
 Would echo only to the hand 
 
 That touched some pensive lay. 
 Again we met, again, my friend, 
 
 (For friendship did its duty,) 
 And then, once more our fervent hearts 
 
 Knelt at the shrine of beauty. 
 Still let that band its fibres hold, 
 
 Which no rude hand may sever, 
 Let friendship bind us still to love, 
 
 Forever and forever. 
 
154 LINES. 
 
 LINES. 
 
 Oh ! shall I never meet again, 
 
 That eye which beams so brightly fair, 
 Like gems within a silver sky, 
 
 Or star-beams quivering gently there. 
 When last I saw those prettier orbs, 
 
 In beauty's brilliant circle shine, 
 Mirth ruled each heart — his reign supreme,- 
 
 And sadness governed only mine. 
 Each glance of beauty seemed to light 
 
 The joyous heart on which it fell, 
 And with its fonder brighter power. 
 
 The storm of rising sorrow quell 
 Oh, shall I never hear again 
 
 That voice that only sings of love ; 
 Like softest zephyrs 'mid the grove. 
 
 Or harp in seraph hands above. 
 That voice like cherub's sweetest tones, 
 
 As lingering 'mid the floral bowers ; 
 Where love and hope their radiance blend 
 
 With sweetest fragrance of the flowers. 
 Oh, let me hear those tones again. 
 
 Once more those seraph eyes behold ; 
 Let hope again my spirit wake, 
 
 And love its sentiments unfold. 
 
* 
 
 TO . 155 
 
 TO . 
 
 That lingering ray of beauty 
 
 Upon thy brow that plays, 
 Like morning's early sunlight, 
 
 Or luna's mystic rays : 
 Ts but the dim foreshadow, 
 
 That speaks the soul within ; 
 That makes a brighter heaven, 
 
 An Eden without sin. 
 I've watched the stars at midnight, 
 
 As I am watching now, 
 And caught a gUmpse of heaven, 
 
 And scanned an angel's brow. 
 But each celestial spirit, 
 
 Dissolving from my view, 
 VVould mingle all their sweetness 
 
 In one, by forming you. 
 I've sat beside the streamlet. 
 
 When harsher sounds were still, 
 And zephyr sang of echo, 
 
 In concert with the rill ; 
 But still a sweeter melody 
 
 I've heard awaked by thee ; 
 Thy voice is all the heaven 
 
 That music has for me. 
 
156 DREAMS. 
 
 I've watched two stars of beauty, 
 
 Where sunlight never fades, 
 Which hold a brilliant empire 
 
 Within Elysian shades. 
 But now your eyes — those orbits 
 
 That speak of love — of heaven, 
 A sweeter course of vision 
 
 Have to my spirit given. 
 And storms of disappointments, 
 
 In vain may try to sever 
 That image, fixed upon my heart 
 
 Forever and forever. 
 
 1 
 
 DREAMS. 
 
 There is in dreams a sweetness felt 
 
 That never can be told ; 
 More fitted for an angel's harp 
 
 Than language weakly cold. 
 'Tis fancy roaming unconfined, 
 
 Where reason cannot go, 
 And thoughts unsullied by fears, 
 
 In touching pleasures flow. 
 They're all the essence of those hopes 
 
 Which gild life's weary way, 
 
TO A LADY OF . 157 
 
 Or memory of the long lost tones 
 Of some sad, pensive lay. 
 
 TO A LADY OF 
 
 I KNOW I have not seen thee, or gazed upon thy face, 
 Yet thy sweet angelic features have in my heart a place ; 
 For they told me of thy beauty, which on thy brow did 
 
 rest ; 
 Like the soft and brilliant radiance that hangs around the 
 
 blest. 
 In dreams I stood beside thee and gazed upon thy brow, 
 So near a wild reality it seems I'm gazing now ; 
 For night and day my vision can dwell with only two, 
 They're love and love's sweet heaven, and both of these are 
 
 you. 
 'Tis sweet to taink that spirits in this dark lonely home, 
 When unconfined by reason, may in love's region roam ; 
 Untinctured by the sorrows that dim our lives with tears — 
 Unknown time's lonely moments, its pains, its griefs, its fears. 
 Thus round thine own sweet spirit my own in hope will cling, 
 'Till fortune 'mid its changes reality shall bring ; 
 'Till I shall see those beauties which heaven alone can give, 
 That sweet, that brighter vision shall on my spirit live. 
 This, to the cold and heartless, an idle hope may seem, 
 14 
 
158 AN AUTUMN EVENING. 
 
 To love an unseen object, the vision of a dream ; 
 But I have loved yon heaven beyond the distant blue, 
 And like its unseen beauties — unseen, I love thee too. 
 I'd rather hold this vision of beauty near my soul, 
 Than grasp the silver planets that glitter round the pole ; 
 I'd rather thou would'st hear me, as I say, without a frown — 
 I'd rather thou wouldst love me than win an empire's crown. 
 
 AN AUTUMN EVENING. 
 
 The twilight gently comes. 
 Like the mantle of silence, spread bv the hand of the east 
 
 Wnile in the west, eve's rosy light, 
 
 A burning radiance pours. 
 
 The eve so softly shuts her eye. 
 
 Like gentle slumbers steal 
 
 Upon the infant's frame. 
 
 And as its dimpled lips 
 Murmur soft sounds of unearthly notes, 
 So the soft zephyrs responsive wake 
 
 A melody scarce of ear h. 
 
 The stars peep out with brilliant light, 
 
 From heaven's silver ocean, 
 
 Like thoughts of love so sweetly robed 
 
 In the sweet sadness of hope's coloring. 
 
DREAM. 159 
 
 And, now, a dimmer hour has come, 
 
 And softly shines yon gentle moon ; 
 While vocal sounds the stillness break. 
 
 And echo o'er my still lagoon. 
 What holier thoughts — what brighter hopes 
 
 By this sweet silent hour are given ; 
 My spirit seems forsaking earth. 
 
 And mingling in a brighter heaven. 
 Alone I stand in this wide world, 
 
 With scarce a single kindred heart ; 
 For ere a face upon me smiles 
 
 In sadness we are doomed to part. 
 There's many a one to smile and laugh, 
 
 And weep if I seem sad, or pine ; 
 But yet they will — they cannot feel, 
 
 What is within this heart of mine. 
 'Tis only in such hours as this. 
 
 When nature holds converse with men ; 
 When music breathes from sweeter souls. 
 
 Oh, yes, T can be happy then. 
 
 DREAM. 
 
 I DREAMED that thou wcr't by my side, 
 All angel as thou art. 
 
160 HOME. 
 
 And fainting from some unknown cause, 
 
 I pressed thee to my heart. 
 Thy throbbing breast and love-warm cheek 
 
 Awoke again life's charms, 
 And still, when smiles Ht up thine eye, 
 
 I held thee in my arms. 
 'Twas but a dream, and when I 'woke 
 
 And found thou wer't not there, 
 I felt as if returned from heaven, 
 
 To dwell 'mid toil and care. 
 I would that life were all a dream, 
 
 And like this, all the rest ; 
 For, if thy angel self wert there, 
 
 My spirit would be blest. 
 Still, could I gain thy seraph smiles, 
 
 Though life's a waking dream, 
 With thee — less all the world beside— 
 
 Earth would a heaven seem. 
 
 HOME. 
 
 There is, in every clime, a word, 
 Round which the memory clings ; 
 
 And o'er the soul in calmer hours, 
 A softer feeling flings. 
 
HOME. 161 
 
 Altbough amid the desert waste, 
 
 Or fertile lands we roam ; 
 The heart toward that pole vibrates — 
 
 That mystic word is home. 
 The sailor, as his gallant ship, 
 
 'Mid tempests cleaves the foam, 
 Sings gaily 'mid the frantic spray ; 
 
 " The oceans wave's my home ; 
 My home is on the rolling deep. 
 
 Where winds their revels play, 
 And star-beams woo the moon's pale light 
 
 Upon the dashing spray." 
 There's not a word so sweetly soft, 
 
 That's heard from pole to pole. 
 That trembles with a sweeter sound 
 
 Than home, upon the soul. 
 And when sad trial glooms my life, 
 
 As 'mid its cares I roam ; 
 I smile that in the spirit land — 
 
 In heaven, I have a home. 
 
 li 
 
 1* 
 
162 TO A YOUNG BRIDE. 
 
 TO A YOUNG BRIDE. 
 
 " She was a fomi of life and light, 
 That seen became a part of sight ; 
 And rose where'er I turned my eye. 
 The morning star of memoiy." 
 
 " Then give me all I ever asked— a tear ; 
 The first— last— sole reward of so much love. 
 
 I KNOW that now thy father's halls 
 
 With faces fair are bright, 
 Whose eyes, like thoughts of love and hope, 
 
 Lend radiance to the night. 
 I know that 'mid that gayer throng, 
 
 There's many a heart beats high, 
 And haloes of the spirits make. 
 
 Upon bright features lie. 
 And music, with her heavenly tones, 
 
 A softer feeling brings, 
 And o'er fond hearts and gentle hopes, 
 
 Her spirit-mantle flings. 
 I know — but oh, I do not know, 
 
 That now thy heart is gay ; 
 That round it hangs not one fond thought 
 
 Of him that's far away. 
 Perhaps while smile still answers smile, 
 
 And hopes deck fancy's shore ; 
 
TO A YOUNG BRIDE. 163 
 
 Perhaps you'll give one single thought 
 
 To him who loved thee more. 
 I would not, for a thousand worlds, 
 
 Throw one dark shadow where 
 A smile so oft was wont to sit, 
 
 Upon a brow so fair ; 
 I would not thou should'st think of me 
 
 When gayer friends were near, 
 Or when their presence claims thy smile ; 
 
 Of him thou must hold dear ; 
 But when the zephyrs fondly wake 
 
 Their harps amid the flowers, 
 And moon-rays kiss the dancing wave. 
 
 In bright celestial showers. 
 When softly sings our southern bird. 
 
 Its love song to the rose, 
 And stars wituin yon quiet sky. 
 
 Their brilliant leaves unclose. 
 At that sweet hour when he is gone, 
 
 And thoughts roam memory's sea, 
 One single tear is all I ask — •^ * 
 
 Oh, then remember me. 
 But I must sing no more to thee, 
 
 My love no more must tell ; 
 But only with a breaking heart, 
 
 Can say farewell, farewell. 
 
164 TO- 
 
 ^ TO 
 
 Lady ! 'twas 'mid the fair and gay 
 
 That first I saw thy face, 
 So like an angel's features bright, 
 
 Within a holier place. 
 But still around my memory hang's 
 
 That look so soft — so sweet — 
 As seraph's hopes, in brighter climes, 
 
 Love's burning radiance meet. 
 Our eyes scarce met ; yet thus did mine 
 
 My spirit's language speak. 
 As hope on fancy's glittering verge, 
 
 Might fate's dark fortune wreak. 
 Thou seraph of my midnight dreams, 
 
 Which long, long years ago, 
 When boyishly I mused on love, 
 
 Did thy bright image show. 
 And when my heart was cold and sad, 
 
 And life looked drear and lone, 
 Thy features, like an angel's smile. 
 
 Around my spirit shone. 
 I've sought for thee 'mid gayer crowds, 
 
 And solitude's soft home. 
 Then, deeming thee of heavenly birth, 
 
 A brighter clime did roam. 
 
LINES. ♦ 165 
 
 But heaven could show to mortal e^^iii;;! 
 
 No form so sweetly fair, :-j.|_^ jj^uj,. , 
 
 And solitude, 'mid her bright trai% n,,!'! 
 
 Could never boast thee there. 
 But now my spirit's found its home, 
 
 We'll at thy portal knock, 
 And oh ! Avill thoughts more cold than mine 
 
 The lovely entrance lock. 
 No I let some sigh throw wide the gate, 
 
 And let my spirit rest, 
 And let a smile from thy sweet face, 
 
 Tell me my soul is blest. 
 
 LINES. 
 
 I STAND upon the shore of a boundless sea, 
 
 With mind unfettered and my spirit free, 
 
 Unknown, mysterious, hall of chaotic home, 
 
 Where unknown thoughts 'mid mysterious regions roam. 
 
 With retrospective view, o'er earth's vast plains I look, 
 
 And cull wild thoughts from nature's open book ; 
 
 I look abroad, and smiling field and flower 
 
 Expand their beauties 'neath the sun's warm power. 
 
 And nature seems a wreath from beauty's hand, 
 
 And hfe a Hving thing, subject to love's command. 
 
 n 
 
166 * TO . 
 
 I view the midhiglit stars in beauty roll 
 
 Their onward course, all bright, from pole to pole, 
 
 And mark the course of yon pale silver moon, 
 
 How sweet its rays at night's lone silent noon. 
 
 And when the moon in all its beauties breaks. 
 
 Like hope's young face when love her wishes spake, 
 
 I feel the air its balmy influence shed, 
 
 In sweetest whispers upon my morning bed ; 
 
 Each little bird seems carolhng to morn, 
 
 To answer some bright cause, alone for which 'twas born. 
 
 TO 
 
 Again my saddened harp I string, 
 
 To sing of her so dearly loved, 
 Of her, who to the tones I bring, 
 
 Can listen with a heart unmoved. 
 
 'Tis strange that heart of angel mould 
 Can yield to love no single sigh, 
 
 When no bright flower its leaves unfold, 
 But loves in realms beyond -the sky. 
 
 'Tis strange that eyes like seraph tones 
 
 Must frown on hope's first budding bloom, 
 
LINES. • 167 
 
 And crush the flower before 'twas blown, 
 And drive it to an earlv tomb. y- 
 
 'Tis strange that voice, well fit to speak 
 
 The language of a clime above, 
 Should change hope's spring to winter bleak, 
 
 And sing not one sweet song of love. 
 
 'Tis strange my heart, 'mid cold despair, 
 
 Still deeper loves its first — last choice, 
 Nor, driven from its haven there, 
 
 By fate, nor frown, nor rival's voice. 
 
 «' 
 But still, sweet angel, I shall bear 
 
 Upon my spirit thy sweet smile. 
 Like sunbeams on the floweret's ftice. 
 
 Which blooms far in that sunnier clime. 
 
 LINES. 
 
 I LOVED, in youth's impulsive morn, 
 
 One beautiful and bright, 
 Whose looks, like some sweet meteor, 
 
 Still hang o'er memory's sight. 
 
168 LINES. 
 
 A soft and splendid angel, 
 
 Love, on lier beauteous throne, 
 Amid the lights of heaven, 
 
 A magnate star she shone. 
 Still rules that queen of beauty 
 
 Lone princess of my heart, 
 Where thought and hope and feeling 
 
 Claim of her smiles a part. 
 Still, still vibrates my spmt 
 
 To love's attractive pole, 
 Where youth's affections linger, 
 
 The magnet of my soul. 
 But yet no smile of welcome 
 
 Will bid my spirit come, 
 And in its bright Elysium 
 
 Possess its long-sought home. 
 I'll be a wanderer ever. 
 
 If from thee I am driven. 
 And know no other resting-place 
 m But thee, my earth-sought heaven. 
 
 LINES. 
 
 It cannot be that beauty's looks. 
 
 And tones which play around the heart, 
 
LINES. 169 
 
 Can coldly bid a last adieu, 
 
 And from tlie spirit ever part. 
 Then round my mind shall gently play, 
 
 Each look that memory gives to thee. 
 Like thoughts from love's bright, radiant orb, 
 
 Soft glancing over fancy's sea. 
 Oh, what a treasure bright I'll have, 
 
 Far richer than the miser's gold, 
 Of smiles — the rainbow of the heart — 
 
 And thoughts which never can grow cold. 
 Though storms of care may rudely beat. 
 
 And envy's looming thunders roll. 
 They ne'er can touch this inner shrine. 
 
 This fadeless treasure of the soul. 
 
 LINES. 
 
 Thou com'st to me yet, 'mid the dreams of the night, # 
 
 All beauteous and fair, like an angel of light, 
 
 Till sleep seems a heaven, ecstatically sweet, 
 
 Like the vale of an Eden where seraphs would meet. 
 
 15 
 
170 FAREWELL TO SUMMER. 
 
 All ! why is it only 'mid dreams of the night 
 That thou com'st to me, robed in love's glittering light, 
 To woo me from earth, far, far from life's cares, 
 Where grief is unknown, with its sorrows and tears. 
 
 Why wilt thou not come in reality's hour, 
 And throw o'er my soul, the sweets of thy power, 
 Make life a bright dream, untiuctured with fear, 
 A pathway through flowers — an absence of care. 
 
 Then Hope with her voice, so winningly sweet. 
 Still whispers again on life's ocean we'll meet. 
 When no storm bleak and wild shall drive us apart, 
 But our vessels may moor in the home of the heart. 
 
 FAREWELL TO SUMMER. 
 
 Farewell, fleeting, dying summer, 
 
 I may never see thee more, 
 For already winter's tempests 
 
 Sigh around with threat'ning roar. 
 Farewell summer, with thy flowers. 
 
 Gentle, fragrant, pretty things. 
 Stars of earth — the smiles of beauty, 
 
 Which in wild delight she flings. 
 
TO THE ROSE. 171 
 
 Farewell summer, with thy breezes 
 
 Like the soft Eolian strain, 
 Which upon the chord is dying. 
 
 Never to be waked again. 
 But there is a clime, where summer 
 
 From its groves will never part, 
 Yes, the chilling winds of winter 
 
 Never can invade the heart. 
 Then oh ! would you Hve with summer 
 
 When the stars forever shine, 
 Come, and where love holds his sceptre, 
 
 Live within this heart of mine. 
 
 TO THE ROSE. 
 
 Let us mix with the ghttering cup 
 
 The rose, the sweet emblem of love, 
 The beauteous-leaved rose to our temples. 
 
 We'll bind like the garlands above. 
 Laughing gayly, we'll drink your bright hues, 
 
 Sweet rose, the best of all flowers. 
 Soft favorite of glittering spring. 
 
 And delight of the heavenly powers. 
 The boy of Kurtheria, with roses 
 
 On his beautiful ringlets is crowned. 
 
172 LINES. 
 
 Which the queen of Elysium permitting, 
 By the hand of the graces were bound. 
 
 Then, crown me, and also my lyre, 
 
 Oh ! Bacchus, near thy deep bosomed shrine, 
 
 "Where thy virgins, with rose-beauties decked, 
 Lead the dance, while the brighter stars shine. 
 
 LINES. 
 
 They tell me of a distant world 
 
 Beyond the shining stars of heaven, 
 Where joy all unconfined by grief, 
 
 And crowns of glittering beauty's given. 
 They tell me too, within that land 
 
 We live all free and void of fear, 
 And 'mid the joyous strains we strike. 
 
 Is mingled no sad note of care. 
 But 'mid soft beams, and brighter smiles, 
 
 Love sings to beauty's form 
 Beneath a sky all bright with heaven, 
 
 A sky without a single storm. 
 And in that beauteous, brilliant land 
 
 Where love will ever reign 
 There, all that loved and parted here, 
 
 There all shall meet again. 
 
TO ADA. 
 
 173 
 
 Oh ! who would not from sin and shame, 
 His life a moment sever, 
 
 To live 'mid smiles, in beauty's sky- 
 Forever, and forever. 
 
 TO ADA. 
 
 I HAVE loved thee, when star-light was dancing around, 
 
 All beautiful and bright on the sky ; 
 And a thousand wild hopes of honor and fame, 
 
 In the far distant future did lie. 
 I have loved thee, when zephyr's soft tremulous note 
 
 Breathed fondly o'er flower and lea, 
 And when thought sailed in memory's quivering bark 
 
 O'er fancy's wild glittering sea. 
 I have loved thee, when music, soft, touching and low, 
 
 Sweetly echoed to tones sweeter still. 
 Which are never forgot, though long since they have died. 
 
 But will memory's Elysium yet fill. 
 I have loved thee, when smiles, threw around beauty's face 
 
 A halo of heavenly light. 
 Like dew drops on star-lighted chariots driven, 
 
 O'er the brow of a moon-lighted night. 
 I have loved thee when sorrow its influence shed, 
 
 And when sadness, my spirit would shroud, 
 15* 
 
174 TO THE SOUTH. 
 
 When the bright sun of hope was darkened by grief, 
 
 Or dimned by misfortune's dark cloud. 
 I have loved thee, yet deeper and stronger that love 
 
 Has grown 'mid life's trials and cares, 
 Has been nourished by hope and fancy's wild flights. 
 
 And watered by memory's tears. 
 And still, must I love, while my spirit would seek 
 
 A dwelling in beauty's bright home ; 
 For, still to that ipagnet, my soul ever points 
 
 Though o'er earth's distant regions I roam. 
 
 TO THE SOUTH. 
 
 Here's for the South, the sunny South, 
 The land of the free and brave ; 
 
 The land where the wild winds whisper soft, 
 And the flowerets know no grave. 
 
 The land of the noble and the good, 
 The chme of the moonlight's home ; 
 
 Where streams of pearly wavelets bright, 
 Through forests of orange roam. 
 
TO THE SOUTH. 175 
 
 Yes, here's to the South — 'mid oppressions' tide 
 
 She stands like the beaten shore, 
 With conscious pride, her rights — her own, 
 
 Will defend forevermore. 
 
 No treasured name can be the mask, 
 
 To give her degrading guilt, 
 Nor rase the fabric of her rights 
 
 Which firm on her soil is built. 
 
 There may be in her sunny glades 
 
 Some hearts of traitorous blood, 
 Whose moral nerves — relaxed and weak. 
 
 Yield tame to the tainted flood. 
 
 And here's to such souls of dastard blood, 
 
 The curee of a people free. 
 The curse of the men of '76 
 
 Who fought for our liberty. 
 
 LINES. 
 
 'Tis at the silent noon of night. 
 
 When star-beams dance upon the wave, 
 
176 ♦ LINES. 
 
 The heart can call the feelings back 
 
 Which love in earlier hours gave. 
 When mem'ry gently sweeps the heart, 
 
 As zephyrs o'er the harp's light string, 
 As soft as moonlight on the skies, 
 
 Or tones which melody can bring. 
 Who would not at this mystic hour, 
 
 When floats the glitt'ring moonbeam by, 
 Recall each look — rehear those tones 
 
 Which in the clime of mem'ry lie ? 
 For ah there's not a moonlight hour, 
 
 But what has something bright its own, 
 As not a star in yon sweet heaven. 
 
 But what can say, " I too have shone ; " 
 There's not a mem'ry of the past 
 
 That dwells within the soul's deep shrine, 
 But what can claim some pleasures too, 
 
 And say, " that mental gem was mine. " 
 Then I must love the memoried past. 
 
 So soft, so beautiful and bright, 
 And live within its fancied realm. 
 
 This mezzotinted noon of night. 
 
FOR AN ALBUM. * 177 
 
 THY BEAUTY. 
 
 'Tis the midnight of beauty, so sweetly intense, 
 
 The monarch of thought absorbing each sense. 
 
 As the midnight in splendor encircles the sky. 
 
 The soul of bright beauty envelopes thine eye. 
 
 'Tis the rock in the desert afar in the maze, 
 
 The hope of whose shade holds the traveller's gaze ; 
 
 Round whose summit the lightning majestically flashes, 
 
 As the intellect thought in thine eyes ever dashes. 
 
 'Tis the star of yon sky pointing ever away. 
 
 To a cHme where eternity's made up of day, 
 
 Thus thine eye ever points to the soul richer still, 
 
 Whose treasures the lights of ecstacy fill. 
 
 FOR AN ALBUM. 
 
 Lady, upon this fluttering leaf I trace 
 
 A single thought of hope and memory, 
 As thou hast written by each glance and look. 
 
 Upon my heart a lovely ecstacy. 
 I would not sing the beauty of those eyes, 
 
 The soul-hghts, bright within the spirit sky. 
 Which shine in softness hke the gentle stars, 
 
 In Southern skies when the day beams brightly die. 
 
178 * LINES. 
 
 I would not tell the ricliness of a voice, 
 
 Which has no echo but the second tone, 
 Like Memnon's song within the desert waste, 
 
 High in the world of melody alone. 
 I'd only ask when the stars shine out, 
 
 And moonbeams glance in beauty on the sea. 
 When whispering winds awake the soul to thought, 
 
 That thou shouldst then, "fair lady" think of me. 
 
 LINES, 
 
 WRITTEN ON THE TENNESSEE RIVER, BETWEEN CHATANOOGJl 
 
 AND Kelly's ferry. 
 
 Another and another still. 
 
 Those lofty turrets rise, 
 And 'mid the sunset softness 
 
 Seem mingling with the skies. 
 * In nature's wildest grandeur, 
 
 The craggy cliffs are piled ; 
 While on its crowning summit. 
 
 The tasty cedar's filed. 
 A sunset 'mid the mountains. 
 
 How beautiful and grand ; 
 Like some colossal city, 
 
 Reared by a geni's hand. 
 
TO CHARLESTON. 17d 
 
 A storm had dashed to ruins, 
 
 Upon a thousand hills, 
 Whose hollow vaults secluded, 
 
 The ancient geni fills. 
 But, still without some spirit. 
 
 Congenial to my own, 
 A something still is wanting, 
 
 Though nature's power be shown. 
 But she is widely distant — 
 
 Still lives within my heart ; 
 Though mountains rise between us, 
 
 Still we can never part. • 
 
 TO CHARLESTON. 
 
 " Queen of the South" — bright city of the sun, 
 
 Where gentle zephyrs soothe the day to sleep ; 
 As each fair ray dies beautifully bright. 
 
 And leaves the bulbul in sorrow's arms to sleep. 
 " Bride of the sun," as ancient lore would read. 
 
 In wilder days of song and legiac story. 
 When wandering minstrel viewed the fair he loved 
 
 And won her heart alone by deeds of glory. 
 
180 TO CHARLESTON. 
 
 Ah ! here might wake the past of chivalry, 
 
 And knight might tune again his sleeping lyre, 
 And while the moonlight gilds the glittering w^ave. 
 
 Sing to her name in love's wild notes of fire. 
 Here might he wreath bright flowers which seldom fade, 
 
 And twine them, rich with fragrance, round her brow. 
 Flowers which tell in petaled words the force 
 
 Which rules the soul — love's wild impassioned vow. 
 Here where the waves in mimic billows dash. 
 
 Leaping to catch the moonlight's fading ray ; 
 Might with his lute, and lady-love, and skiff. 
 
 Dash o'er the waves to gentle sounds away. 
 Here where the orange its golden fruit matures. 
 
 And blue magnolias woo verbena's hand. 
 And zephyrs sigh around the rose-bud's home. 
 
 Whispering her hopes to all the fragrant band. 
 " Queen of the South," no dark and chilling storms 
 
 May rudely dash thy flowerets to the earth ; 
 Nor may thy people, in colder climates, lose 
 
 The genial feelings to which their homes gave birth. 
 
 
/ V 
 

 
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 JAN 1999 
 
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