w^ 
 
^y5^^^//.=y1^ J . 
 
 UNITED STATES OF AMERIC; . 
 
r\ 
 
^r^ 
 
 %Qr^ 
 
 —^ 
 
 u 
 
 TRIBUTE TO THE FAIR: 
 
 COMPRISING A COLLECTION OF 
 
 VJEBS DE SOGIJETE, 
 
 in %u\ jof tto #»ttltoa (&mm\%%\m. 
 
 NEW YORK : 
 D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, 
 
 443 & 445 BROADWAY. 
 
 1864, 
 
 y 
 
 ^^Ot. 
 
 X t^-//^4. 
 
""^l 
 
 Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1864, by 
 
 D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, 
 
 In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the 
 Southex*n District of New York. 
 
 X r-p k- % 
 
The following vers de societSj with the ex- 
 ception of a few pieces which have already ap- 
 peared in print, were never intended for pub- 
 lication, having been originally addressed as a 
 private tribute to the charms and accomplish- 
 ments of fair friends, occupying the position 
 of Jeimes premieres on the stage of elegance 
 and fashion. As these ladies have never made 
 their appearance before the public, the writer 
 has naturally preferred to introduce them under 
 the cloak of a nom de guerre^ in conformity to 
 time-honored custom. 
 
 The verses are now for the first time col- 
 lected, and, with some alterations, are ofiered 
 in their present shape as a contribution to the 
 Metropolitan Fair for the benefit of the United 
 
IV 
 
 States Sanitary Commission — the entire proceeds 
 of this edition being appropriated to that pur- 
 pose. May the object of the publication atone 
 for the act itself! 
 
 As the ruby wine imparts to the crystal a 
 beauty which the latter would otherwise fail to 
 attain, the writer is not without hope that the 
 charm which diffuses itself around those whose 
 attractions he has so vainly attempted to put 
 under glass, may shed a borrowed grace upon 
 his playful rhymings. 
 
 As to the critics, should they condescend 
 to aim their shafts so low, they will be flattered 
 to find that the writer, with considerate fore- 
 thought, has allowed more than the authorized 
 number of faults to stand, for their express 
 gratification. 
 
 New York, Feb. 29, 1864. 
 
CON TEISTTS. 
 
 THE TITLE TO THIS BOOK, . 
 
 METHOUGHT, 
 
 LA REINE DU BAL, . . . . 
 
 A SKETCH, 
 
 ONLY A SKIRMISH, . . . . 
 
 A WISH, 
 
 TO A DOMINO, 
 
 ATALANTA, .... 
 
 PASSING ALONG BROADWAY, 
 THE HEART OF A FLIRT, 
 
 WANTED! 
 
 TO A BIRD SINGING ABOVE NIAGARA, 
 
 ACROSTIC, 
 
 TO MADEMOISELLE RACHEL, . 
 
 EXCHANGE NO ROBBERY, . 
 
 OUT ON THE BALCONY, . 
 
 WITH A BOUQUET, .... 
 
 TO A FAIR DEBUTANTE, . 
 
 THE EXILE, 
 
 THE SLEIGH RIDE, .... 
 ON A YOUNG LADY'S SLIPPER, . 
 THE NEW-BORN STAR, 
 LOST— A BLACK AND TAN, . 
 WHY I CALL YOU MY DEAR, . 
 EPITHALAMIUM, . . 
 
 TO A FEMALE BUTTERFLY, 
 THE CLOUD AND THE STAR, 
 THE FOUNTAIN TRANSFORMED, 
 
 vii 
 7 
 9 
 12 
 14 
 17 
 19 
 21 
 25 
 26 
 SO 
 S2 
 34 
 
VI CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGB 
 
 UNCLE TOBY, 92 
 
 UNRELENTING, 98 
 
 THE STORY OF THE COLD HEART, . . .100 
 
 ELLA'S FROWN, 108 
 
 THE MUSICIAN'S DREAM, 110 
 
 THE SEPARATION, 116 
 
 LINES IN AN ALBUM, 122 
 
 ON THE ENGAGEMENT OF A BACHELOR FRIEND, 123 
 
 TO MISS SALLY, . 127 
 
 THE THERMOMETER, 129 
 
 AULD LANG SYNE, 131 
 
 IMPROMPTU, 133 
 
 LINES, 184 
 
 A REQUEST, 137 
 
 HOW WELL I REMEMBER, 139 
 
 WITH AN ANONYMOUS BOUQUET, ... 141 
 
 SUNNY SUE, 142 
 
 THE NEW-COMER, 162 
 
 TO A YOUNG LADY WHO PREFERRED LITTLE MEN, 164 
 
 LINES SENT WITH A ROSE, 167 
 
 THE BROWN UMBRELLA, 170 
 
 BELLA, 179 
 
 A MIDSUMMER FETE, 182 \J 
 
 A VISION, 208 
 
 WEST POINT, 211 
 
 A NEWPORT BELLE, 216 
 
 YE WHO PRAY, OH, PRAY FOR ME! . . 220 
 
 TIME AND LOVE, 223 
 
 I LOVE THEE NOW NO MORE 1 ... 226 
 
 O BREEZE OF THE WEST, . . . . .229 
 
 NEW YEAR'S DAY, 231 
 
 A TOAST, 236 
 
 A BACHELOR'S WISH, 238 
 
 WHAT IS LIFE, 239 
 
 MY SOLFERINO CHOKER 240 
 
 TO MARIA PICCOLOMINI, 243 
 
 A MORNING CALL, 245 
 
 AT ROCK AW AY, 248 
 
 GEORGETTE, 250 
 
THE TITLE TO THIS BOOK 
 
 INTRODUCTOKT. 
 
 One evening late, there sat elate 
 
 Within the Club called Union, 
 A party gay, some six or eight, 
 
 In spirited communion. 
 The spirits bright they showed that night, 
 
 The thing that made them frisky. 
 Was not the war, nor reason's light, 
 
 But gossiping and— whiskey. 
 Indeed, one day a wag did say 
 
 (In passing by Delmonico) : 
 " rd call your club, had I my way, 
 
 The Mimeo BorboniooP 
 
VIU THE irrLE TO THIS BOOK. 
 
 The Club showed then — say, half-past ten — 
 
 About its usual stupor. 
 Except ourselves — the rest were men 
 
 Too old to make a trooper — 
 Some smoking, some debating were — 
 
 Some snoozing near the fire — 
 You would have thought them mummies there, 
 
 But for their nasal choir. 
 
 With white cravat, and opera hat, 
 
 Our corner looked quite cosej — 
 Two of us had been dining at 
 
 A friend's, and came back rosy ; 
 In Mosedah one had pleasure found, 
 
 And one in Traviata^ 
 "While some were to a concert bound, 
 
 A Sanitary matter. 
 
 The leader of this chatty group, 
 That youth with wit so flashing. 
 
 Has all the leau monde at his soup. 
 And they call him Mr. Dashing ; 
 
 For dancing, dining, and in love, 
 He's foremost in the nation, 
 
THE TITLE TO THIS BOOK. IX 
 
 And for bright talk, there's none above 
 This man of great relation. 
 
 His neighbor gay, with that new hat, 
 
 Is humorous as Dickens — 
 Flirts with the Muses, gilds chit-chat. 
 
 And gambols with " Spring Chickens ; " 
 While sober " Will " upon his right, 
 
 Of form erect and jaunty. 
 Oft pJiilosophe — talks art to night. 
 
 And plays the dilettante. 
 
 And there is one who, when he's seen 
 
 At our great lattice standing. 
 Charms maids and men with air serene 
 
 And manly frame commanding ; 
 And here's our friend, who so well quotes 
 
 Rare authors, French and German, 
 And would have worn, but for the votes. 
 
 The aldermanic ermine. 
 
 The " Handsome Major " has Will's arm — 
 
 The Cis-Atlantic D'Orsay— 
 The " glass of fashion — mould of form — 
 
 And " — I need hardly more say, 
 1 
 
THE TITLE TO THIS BOOK. 
 
 Unless that we two Majors boast : 
 Our friend here sipping Kiimmel, 
 
 And one who, in himself a host, 
 We 've christened M&yah Brummel ! 
 
 Beside him dreams that schemer bold, 
 
 That Greenback-struck Aladdin, 
 Whose winnings would, if all were told, 
 
 The ghost of Midas madden. 
 While others donned war's coat of mail, 
 
 He cheered the nation's mourner 
 By bounty from Pacific Mail^ 
 
 And prospered in a comer ; 
 Then built steam yachts, and marble mews, 
 
 And a rare Miou theatre. 
 Where soon the Graces and the Muse 
 
 To ravished souls will cater. 
 
 For, there we '11 note that beauty, famed 
 
 From Paris to Manhattan, 
 Whose grace the heart of France inflamed 
 
 While scudding on her patten ; 
 Whose warblings sweet did, humbled, chase 
 
 The Lurlei to her grotto. 
 
THE TITLE TO THIS BOOK. xi 
 
 While soft Enchantment, on her face, 
 Imprinted : The Duke's Motto.* 
 
 Her sister fair will shine there too, 
 
 With her grand tresses golden. 
 Fair as the Grandes Eaux at St. Cloud 
 
 On festive morn beholden ; 
 And her blue eyes— so sweet, so blue. 
 
 They'll haunt me till I'm hoary— 
 (As fresh a blonde as e'er I knew. 
 
 This tulle-clad morning-glory !) 
 
 There, too, shall we admiring dwell 
 
 (While throngs around will muster) 
 On eyes, now queen-like, now gazelle. 
 
 Resplendent in their lustre ; 
 Proud eyes of one— brunette renowned, 
 
 Of empire unresisted — 
 Whose praise is heard, and vassals found. 
 
 Where'er her tent is listed. 
 
 With fondness, too, we there shall trace 
 A host of other beauties, 
 
 ♦ The Duke's Motto : " / am Here.'' 
 
Xll THE TITLE TO THIS BOOK. 
 
 For, only genius, wit, and grace 
 Can there fill buskined duties. 
 
 But I've outspun my causerie, 
 By fickle fancy heated ; 
 
 Let's now back to the leaux esprits 
 Witliin the club-house seated. 
 
 " My friends," said I, " ere long I'll start 
 
 A book upon the waters, 
 A ' book of bubbles ' from the heart 
 
 To Gotham's gifted daughters ; 
 Presented as an offering slight 
 
 To Sanitary coffers : 
 I need a title, and invite 
 
 You all to tender offers." 
 
 Forthwith each wit began to think 
 
 About the fittest title, 
 And soon exhausted, some did wink, 
 
 The effort was so vital. 
 " The lines," said one, " are writ to belles. 
 
 So I suggest : BeUea Lettres;^^ 
 And one : " They bound you in their spells, 
 
 So call it : SilJcen Fetters ; " 
 
THE TITLE TO THIS BOOK. xili 
 
 The next proposed plain : Amourettes; 
 
 Discarded as conceited ; 
 And one, Flirtation Silhouettes, 
 
 But this too was defeated. 
 " A Trot on Pegasm,^'' said Jim, 
 
 (A flighty perpetration ;) 
 And, full of point, one next to him 
 
 Gave : Notes of Admiration ! 
 
 " It treats of balls, so I'll be tossed— 
 
 K Pai'ty Lin£8 won't answer ; " 
 Then William said : " Ime's Lalor^s Lost, 
 
 Surpass that, if you can, sir ! " 
 They next proposed : My Trial Trips; 
 
 A Butterfiy''s Becital; 
 The Slips detwixt the Cup and Lips, 
 
 And Booh Without a Title. 
 
 At last Aladdin, in his chair, 
 
 Asleep in rumination, 
 Breathed out : " A Tribute to the Fair,'' 
 
 Which passed by acclamation. 
 With that the gay discussion closed — 
 
 The book was fairly started — 
 Then, an adjom-nment was proposed — 
 
 And merrily we parted. 
 
METHOUGHT. 
 
 Methoijght my heart a little yacht 
 
 Where Frolic was commander ; 
 He sailed her round from spot to spot, 
 
 But never cared to land her ; 
 Deeming the smiles of every " dear " 
 
 A snug and sunny cover, 
 Whither the yacht at will could steer 
 
 Ere sunshine would be over. 
 
 Methought the star that marked her way 
 The eye of brightest beaming ^ 
 
 But each new star of smiling ray 
 Bedimmed the former's gleaming. 
 
METHOUGHT. 
 
 Thus, wandering on, she caught each breeze 
 
 That filled her snowy pinion, 
 And sailed, o'er those delusive seas 
 
 Where Proteus holds dominion. 
 
 At length methought her cruise was o'er. 
 
 And she at anchor riding 
 In some snug port past which before 
 
 She often had been gliding. 
 And oh, how glorious 'twas to feel 
 
 Her voyage well concluded, 
 Resting in peace where never keel 
 
 Had once before intruded ! 
 
 But this, alas ! proved but a snare, 
 
 Hope's mirage self-complacent : 
 Night round the yacht closed unaware, 
 
 And hid the shore adjacent ; 
 And all night long, her signal gun 
 
 !No answer could awaken : 
 Too far had she her cruising run — 
 
 Each harbor now was taken. 
 
LA KEINE DU BAL. 
 
 In tlie ball-room gayly gleaming, 
 
 By the chandelier's rich glare, 
 'Mid the dancers briskly streaming, 
 
 What strange beauty passeth there ? 
 Eyes of jet — large, burning, beaming — 
 
 Noble stature — raven hair — 
 Smile of seraph — am I dreaming ? 
 
 "Whence this vision— oh, so fair ! 
 
 By the light of her dark eye — 
 By her beauty's startling spell — 
 
 By her spirit — by her sigh- 
 Henceforth, mark me, she's the Belle ! 
 1* 
 
10 LA KEINE DU BAL. 
 
 Fresh the Christmas chimes have rung 
 On this night of her first ball, 
 
 Yet, ere Easter's chant is simg 
 She will rank sweet queen of all. 
 
 Elowers are strewed along her ways. 
 Hearts enkindle at her smile ; 
 
 Hon ors, f eastings — lo vers — praise, 
 Make life Eden for a while. 
 
 Winter thus doth glide away 
 Like a golden fairy joy. 
 
 Till, alas ! there comes the day 
 
 All this brightness to destroy, 
 •x- * ^ ^ -Jf * 
 
 * ^ -Sf -x- * -Sf 
 
 O bright spirit — lovely — fair ! 
 
 Must thou leave thy friends so soon 
 Canst thou not a few days spare ? 
 
 "Wilt not grant this trifling boon ? 
 
 If thou canst not, bear with thee 
 "Warm remembrance, kind regret ; 
 
LA EELNE DU BAL. 11 
 
 And, in thy home at Genesee, 
 Think of those whose sun is set : 
 
 And among the chosen few 
 Thou mayst there anon recall. 
 
 Grant him who bids thee now adieu 
 A seat sometimes in Memory's hall. 
 
A SKETCH. 
 
 In bright Broadway, hard by Great Jones, 
 A syren dwells of radiant feature, 
 
 Whose greeting glad no mortal owns 
 
 Without exclaiming, " Brilliant creatm^e ! " 
 
 Her wit finds vent in varied tongue, 
 
 INow sparkling French — now solid Saxon ; 
 
 And when its barb at me is flung, 
 
 I'd sooner face the gun called " Paixhan." 
 
 IVe seen her queening it at balls. 
 Arrayed in proud Parisian splendor, 
 
 And, where the chandelier's ray falls, 
 Marked many a stoic glance wax tender. 
 
A SKETCH. 13 
 
 IVe seen her pallet's hues divine, 
 
 And whispered, when at work I've met her : 
 " In silks and tulles you all outshine, 
 Yet comvas e'en becomes you better." 
 
 I've seen her tripping down Broadway, 
 With looped-up skirt, like nimble kitten, 
 
 And watched her dancing, light and gay. 
 With Albert Edward, hope of Britain. 
 
 I've seen her — peerless Amazon — 
 
 When yearned Fort Adams to receive her. 
 
 Make small mobs pause as she dashed on. 
 Tipping with jewelled whip her beaver. 
 
 I've seen her — but, alas ! not here 
 Her graces all can I determine : 
 She chats, draws, rides, paints, and, I fear — 
 Flirts like a witch all through the German. 
 
OKLY A SKIRMISH. 
 
 A PEETTY young lady quite pleasantly sat 
 In a corner, last night at the ball, 
 
 The same one that wears such a " wee little " 
 hat. 
 Whose light laughter we heard in the hall. 
 
 Her trim, sprightly form was arrayed all in 
 pink, 
 'No jewels concealed her round arm, 
 Her shoe through the folds seemed to peep out 
 and wink. 
 Then retire, like a bird in alarm. 
 
ONLY A SKIRMISH. 15 
 
 A beautiful flower was twined in her hair, 
 
 A sly sparkle lay hid in her eye, 
 Her mischievous smile played about every- 
 where : 
 
 To see her, I vow, made me sigh. 
 
 With a friendly salute, I sat down by her side. 
 But was not, entre nous^ all at ease : 
 
 Though Miss Fanny is bright, and with wit 
 well supi)lied. 
 Yet she loves more to tease than to please. 
 
 I'd scarcely been seated a minute ere war. 
 Deadly war, on both sides was declared ; 
 
 She laughed at my speeches, would list to no 
 more. 
 Spoke ill of my glass — said I stared ! 
 
 I replied at a loss— must beg leave to be frank. 
 Said something about—" almost rude ; " 
 
 Yv^hereat she put on an expression quite blank, 
 " Did not heed what I thought, ill or good." 
 
16 ONLY A SKIRMISH. 
 
 I told her, indeed she was lovely to see, 
 But, oh ! most afflicting to know ; 
 
 The sight of her face made my heart leap with 
 glee, 
 But her words made my tears nearly flow. 
 
 To which she rejoined with more pungent 
 abuse. 
 Under which I was fast getting blue, 
 When a stranger came up — we were forced to 
 a truce. 
 And I bowed with reserve, and withdrew. 
 
 By and by, wrapped in ermine, she sped 
 through the hall. 
 And I carelessly bent as she passed : 
 Miss Fanny smiled back ! And, most brilliant 
 of all. 
 The first star of the night was the last. 
 
A WISH. . 
 
 Oh, would 1 were a little flower — 
 A little flower in this bouquet ! 
 
 That I might please thee for an hour, 
 And sweetness shed around thy way. 
 
 Then would I watch with long content 
 Thy princess form and seraph face, 
 
 "Where worth with high refinement's blent, 
 And calm distinction waits on grace. 
 
 But, fondly as I thus might gaze, 
 I still would lie unheeded there : 
 
 Who notes a single floweret's ways 
 When lost amid a gay parterre ? 
 
18 A WISH. 
 
 With tliat sweet flower I may not cope ; 
 
 That flower's fate I fain would share ; 
 To please awhile I dare to hope ; 
 
 To soar above the throng, despair. 
 
TO A DOMINO. 
 
 Bright and beauteous domino, 
 
 Hedged in mystery, ricli in fun, 
 Whilst tliy witching wit did flow. 
 
 Praise from all by thee was won — 
 Won from hosts that yearned to see 
 Whence arose such glad esjprit ; 
 Yet such craft did in thee reign. 
 All their yearning proved in vain. 
 
 I would fain the ruse retort, 
 
 Were not masks to dons denied ; 
 
 Pardon, then, if I resort 
 
 To means thy wit may well deride. 
 
20 TO A DOMINO. 
 
 In these flowers, fair mask, see 
 Fresh tests for thy keen esjprit : 
 At the ball where thon wilt reign. 
 Seek the giver — seek in vain. 
 
ATALANTA. 
 
 Atalatitta, famed for grace, 
 ReproacUess sjminetrj of mould, 
 And rare nobility of face. 
 Excelled, with nimbleness untold, 
 Arcadia's fleetest in the race. 
 Around her knelt a princely throng, 
 Each grateful at her least command, 
 And yearning to subdue her hand. 
 That hand, she promised, should belong 
 To him who first, amid that band. 
 Pursuing, should her speed surpass ; 
 But they who faltered should, alas ! 
 Excluded from her haughty heart, 
 Be slain by the relentless dart 
 
22 ATALAin'A. 
 
 Whose claim it was her hand to grace 
 In sylvan hunt or human chase. 
 
 One after one the youths pursued, 
 And one by one they loitered aft : 
 Their reckless zeal too soon they rued, 
 As instant flew the fatal shaft. 
 Despite his many rivals dead, 
 Melanion next attempts the prize. 
 And, as he runs, he rolls ahead 
 Some golden fruit : these charm her eyes ! 
 She stoops to seize, while on he flies, 
 And, striking first the vital goal. 
 Clasps Atalanta to his soul ! 
 
 Thus, ere the Pyramids were reared. 
 Ere space for Dido's throne was cleared. 
 Ere Kome was founded, Troy undone. 
 Or aught now known beheld the sun. 
 This fair Arcadian princess ruled ; 
 And first to love's uncertain fate 
 
ATALANTA. 23 
 
 And all the woes which on it wait, 
 Tlie tender mind primeval schooled — 
 Foretokening, too, with what sad ease 
 Frail woman's heart is turned aside 
 From firm intent and life-long pride 
 By the first glittering toy she sees. 
 
 A troop of centuries roll by — 
 And Atalanta's stately mould, 
 Her grace, her charms, her melting eye 
 Transcending all — again behold ! 
 Still at her feet the courtiers sigh, , 
 Still martial chieftains tribute show. 
 And as she dwells, or rustles by. 
 Their anxious hearts still ebb or flow. 
 
 But now, to Progress true, the race 
 Claims sentiment and lofty theme. 
 And all that kindles hope's high dream. 
 As the sole objects of the Chase. 
 The dart no longer in her hand 
 Upraised is seen, prepared to slay. 
 
24: ATALANTA. 
 
 But, far more ready at command, 
 
 "Where her long silken lashes play, 
 
 Masked in her orb's seductive ray, 
 
 The deadly barb doth lurking lay. 
 
 And that fair fruit of dazzling hue 
 
 (By Yenus culled from lordly trees. 
 
 Pride of the famed Hesperides), 
 
 Which, duping, lured the Greek maid's view, 
 
 Is now by Mars, not Yenus, raised : 
 
 By glittering stars which heroes don. 
 
 Ensnaring her as she moves on. 
 
 Are Atalanta's eyes now dazed. 
 
 Yet he, who now would fain pursue, 
 In common with the votive crew. 
 Fair Atalanta's fleet-winged smile, 
 Unschooled by Yenus or by Mars, 
 Can boast, her favour to beguile, 
 !No golden fruit, no silver stars : 
 He can but show her arrow's scars — 
 And, like the lark that seeks the sun, 
 Be joyful if but shined upon. 
 
PASSING ALONG BEOADWAY. 
 
 Passing along Broadway, I saw 
 
 Yiolets nestling there : 
 I loitered on — and, following me, 
 
 Their perfume filled tlie air. 
 
 Yiolet-like, Miss Annie makes 
 
 A garden of life's way — 
 And, when we leave her, memory's charm 
 
 Sweetens the livelong day. 
 
THE HEART OF A FLIRT. 
 
 The stars were burning in the skies, 
 And lamps were blushing in the street, 
 
 Soft sleep was brooding o'er my eyes, 
 And dreams beginning gambols sweet. 
 
 When, in a vision, lightly came. 
 Fleet as the storm-cloud's vivid flame, 
 A fairy form so bright and busy, 
 I knew at once 'twas sparkling Lizzie. 
 
 Her lips were breathing saucy sounds. 
 Her feet performing polka bounds. 
 
THE HEAUT OP A FLIRT. 27 
 
 And in lier eyes sncli mischief lying, 
 I'd pity him she'd catch a-sighing. 
 
 Adown her neck, in corkscrews playing. 
 Her hair in ringlets went a-straying. 
 And at her side her beaux were standing, 
 Like cabmen at a steamboat landing. 
 
 And next her heart — coquettish heart. 
 Which acts so well its cruel part — 
 A magic mirror, moved by wings, 
 Revealed to me its secret springs. 
 
 The scene was one so passing strange. 
 So marked with sighs and constant change, 
 That should I tell the wondrous story, 
 The world would say I fib for glory. 
 
 A chm-chyard, then, of fairy dimension, 
 Covered throughout its tiny extension 
 
28 THE HEAET OF A FLIRT. 
 
 "With tombstones quaint, some crumbling, some 
 
 new. 
 With wonderment filled my petrified view. 
 
 One tomb, in its model, resembled a ring, 
 Kecalling the girlish heart's first fluttering. 
 On which was imprinted, along with Kegakd : 
 " The way of the boy-lover 's hard — to dis- 
 card ! " 
 
 Another was like a cathedral of flowers — 
 No present from me, I affirm, by the pow- 
 ers — 
 On which was apparent, in type rather grayish, 
 
 " Eemember — ^remember, my victim, Bombay- 
 ish 1 " 
 
 The next one was fashioned after a fan, — 
 The present of some disconsolate man, — 
 Where one might perceive, who chose to look 
 
 in: 
 " Erected by me to a friend — ^I took in ! " 
 
THE HEAET OF A FLERT. 29 
 
 The next had the air of a carte de visite, 
 On which was engraven in characters neat : 
 " I swore that my love would defy separation, 
 Yet, here lie — the remains of my vanished 
 flirtation." 
 
 And near it was one representing a heart, 
 Transfixed in the midst with a golden-tipped 
 
 dart, 
 "With these saddening words like fire shining 
 
 through it ; 
 " In memory of ; alas ! how I rue it ! " 
 
 Many other mementos were there which I 
 
 traced. 
 Some clear to the eye, some partly efi*aced — 
 But all of them showing, provokingly clearly, 
 That Lizzie, bright Lizzie — loves to flirt 
 
 dearly. 
 
The following was sent to a young lady on Christmas Eve, with 
 one of Maillard's bonbonni^res, representing a satin shoe with a 
 gilt skate attached. 
 
 WANTED ! 
 
 WAin:ED — an owner to this Shoe ! 
 I'm sure it must, fair friend, fit you — 
 So sweet within, so fair without, 
 It must be yours beyond a doubt. 
 
 "When Santa Claus in bygone times 
 Obeyed the call of Christmas chimes, 
 None deemed it strange, nor rude, nor shock- 
 ing? 
 If, on his rounds, he left — his stocking. 
 
WAIJTED ! 31 
 
 But, now the world has grown more nice, 
 And wears a face of polished ice, 
 A change has twinkled through his pate. 
 And so, of late, he leaves — his skate. 
 
 But, gentle maid, be wary how 
 To use it you yourself allow, 
 For, at your smile's enchanting ray, 
 The ice around will melt away. 
 
 And, if kind fate hold in reserve 
 What we desire and you deserve. 
 Blessings on you will fall in showers. 
 And all your steps be strewed with flowers. 
 
 Christmas Eve. 
 
TO A BIRD SINGESTG ABOYE NIAGARA. 
 
 Above the wild convulsive sea, 
 Whicii, with a long tumultuous sweep, 
 Maddened, rides at one thundering leap 
 
 Down the deep chasm, sublimely free, 
 
 Reverberant eternally, 
 
 On graceful pinion thou dost float. 
 Wafting along the raptured plain 
 Thy long-drawn, sweet, delirious strain, 
 "Whose rich exuberance of note 
 Poureth like sunshine from thy throat ! 
 
 All heedless of the peril near. 
 
 Which, frowning, flows beneath thy wing. 
 Serenely joyous thou dost sing, 
 
TO A BIRD SINGING ABOVE NIAGARA. 33 
 
 And through the roar emerging clear, 
 Th J generous song my soul doth cheer. 
 
 Thou teachest me that He who guides 
 These mighty torrents with his hand 
 Thy blithest carol likewise planned, 
 That one same Law supernal bides 
 O'er twittering birds and thundering tides. 
 
 Thou art withal the symbol meet 
 Of one whose cherished gentle gi-ace, 
 Eecalled 'mid life's discordant race, 
 
 Subdues me with that charm most sweet, 
 
 The music of a soul complete. 
 
 For this o'er all I prize thy song— 
 For this I fondly list to thee 
 With thoughtful sadness, yet with glee, 
 And thank thee, as thou fleest along. 
 For the sweet mystery of thy song. 
 
 2* 
 
ACEOSTIC. 
 
 (NATHALIE.) 
 
 N mE goblins one niglit on a daffodil met, 
 A nd agreed in pure mischief to make a co- 
 quette : 
 T hey plucked a bright Kose, buried Cupid 
 
 inside, 
 H tirried on to the isle where the Graces abide, 
 A nd robbed them while napping of all their 
 
 sweet arts ; 
 L astlj, added a case of wit's mischievous 
 
 darts, 
 I nspired the whole with animation and glee, 
 E xiled it to earth — et wild N'athalie ! 
 
TO MADEMOISELLE EACHEL. 
 
 Across the wide Atlantic sea 
 There came a tale of witchery — 
 Eecounting how one night, 
 Amazed at her bold flight, 
 The world's tribmial chief of Art 
 "Was borne away — soul, spirit, heart — 
 In one wild, wondering whirl 
 By a strange Parisian girl — 
 
 Who, by her magic power, bid 
 The Classic Muse, for ages hid, 
 Majestic once more shine, 
 Eaised by her hand divine — 
 
36 TO IVIADEMOISELLE EACHEL. 
 
 As, when a cold cathedral proud, 
 Extinct in midnight's sombre shrond, 
 
 Eevives — a nobler fane — 
 
 A-blaze at every pane. 
 
 The "New World heard with eager mien, 
 And sighed that Ocean rolled between ; — 
 
 For spite our toiling way, 
 
 Art here holds dawning sway 
 And, flushed with hope, Columbia knows 
 The wave of Art still westward flows. 
 
 And, brightening, on must run 
 
 Till it strike the setting sun. 
 
 Melpomene's favored child, Rachel, 
 Meanwhile each night renewed her spell — 
 The Thespian lyre of France 
 For her shook off its trance — 
 And, at her voice, the captive throng 
 In rapture's chains were borne along — 
 While brave men's cheeks grew pale 
 And young the great Cokneille. 
 
TO MADEMOISELLE KACHEL. 
 
 Through Europe's capitals she swept — 
 And Briton, Gaul, and Tartar wept — 
 
 'Twas hers the heart to wring 
 
 Of emperor, czar, and Mng. 
 Gifts, incense everywhere, and bays. 
 Were showered on her flowery ways — 
 
 And gems — ne'er worn till now, 
 
 Save by a regal brow. 
 
 At length, thrice welcome, thou dost stand 
 Here — in our long-expectant land. 
 
 And noble, simple, true, 
 
 Thy Genius glads our view. 
 Thy words are strange, yet thy grand Art 
 Translates them to the general heart — 
 
 Thou reign est queen of all 
 
 Whose eyes upon thee fall ! 
 
 May thy high type of classic Art 
 A generous strife to us impart. 
 
 And graceful light effuse 
 
 On our poor Tragic Muse, 
 
 37 
 
38 TO MADEMOISELLE KACHEL. 
 
 That we may kuow, when thou art fled. 
 Thy beams not vainly here were shed— 
 Thou, whose great fame, Kachel, 
 In our souls shall ever dwell ! 
 
EXCHANGE NO KOBBEEY. 
 
 If they wlio guard thee cannot spare 
 The loveliest flower in Beauty's bower— 
 
 If they require thy presence fair 
 To scatter sweetness round each hour — 
 
 Tell them, to-night at least, thy friends 
 In sad suspense implore thy coming, 
 
 That mercy calls where love attends. 
 And mercy is to grace becoming. 
 
 Then, if they still will cling to thee, 
 Though these may poorly fill the duty. 
 
 Let these sweet flowers their solace be. 
 And grant to us thy moss-rose beauty. 
 
" OUT OlS" THE BALCOI^Y." 
 
 Soft breezes blew — and overhead 
 The " pale, inconstant " planet shed 
 
 A silver light on Sallie ; 
 Its radiance fell on my straw hat, 
 
 On housetop — ^pavement — alley : 
 But round the spot where Sallie sat 
 
 It seemed most pleased to daily. 
 'Twas there it poured its softest ray. 
 
 It there most brightly dwelt, 
 On her fair cheek it there did play, 
 
 There Sallie ceased — to melt. 
 
 Oh ! what a touching voice she had — 
 How beautiful she seemed ! 
 
" OUT ON THE BALCONY." 41 
 
 ISTo longer bad, no longer sad, 
 
 I felt revived — mj soul was glad — 
 
 In sooth, I must have dreamed. 
 Her face was halo'd by the moon, 
 Her eye surpassed the sun at noon, 
 
 Each word was like a star, — 
 She was sad, sweet — then full of fun. 
 Oh ! ne'er did moments swifter run 
 
 With less their bliss to mar ! 
 My very heart leaped up to sing. 
 And I was happier than a king. 
 
 She may have wished that young J. J. 
 Or some fresh Lord now in our Bay, 
 
 Had filled my honored station. 
 For, since Prince Albert passed this way. 
 
 She's joined the British nation. 
 She breathed it not — ^but kept on still 
 Charming Jfrom richness of good will — 
 
 I asked for nothing more. 
 When all is bright, to think of ill 
 
 Were folly thrice told o'er. 
 
42 
 
 She may have charmed me, faute de mieux^ 
 
 She charmed me — 
 
 Perhaps harmed me — 
 I thank my stars — and her heaux yeux. 
 
WITH A BOUQUET. 
 
 May she whose bright smile 
 
 Has strewn sweetest of flowers 
 O'er my path as I've strolled 
 
 Through pleasure's fair bowers, 
 Accept a true friend's 
 
 Slight attempt to repay 
 Those flowers so sweet 
 
 In this simple bouquet. 
 
TO A FAIK DEBUTANTE, 
 
 THE YOUNGER OF TWO BEAUTIFUL SISTEE8 — ON SENDINa 
 HER FLOWERS FOE HER FIRST BALL. 
 
 A DIAMOND star had a sister of pearl, 
 
 And a moon-silvered cloud was their home ; 
 The diamond star joined the galaxy's whirl. 
 
 And was fairest in heaven's fair dome. 
 Her sister of pearl, like a bird in its nest, 
 
 Ventured not from her hallowed retreat. 
 But in peace twinkled on, till time's welcome 
 behest 
 
 Should release her in radiance complete. 
 
TO A FAIR DEBUTANTE. 45 
 
 At length, in all beauty she beamed on men's 
 
 eyes, 
 And the two sister stars were the gems of the 
 
 skies. 
 
 Like the sweet star of pearl, fair lanthe this 
 night 
 For the first sheds her beams on the world — 
 Time's wing cuts her life with a parting of 
 
 light, 
 
 And hope's flowery vista 's unfurled. 
 From the charms of sweet home and a moth- 
 er's kind care, 
 Side by side the fair sisters now go ; 
 And to-night, more than ever, all hearts breathe 
 the prayer : 
 Peace be all they are destined to know ! 
 
 And now, gentle lady, consent that a friend 
 With the homage of others his homage may 
 blend. 
 
THE EXILE, 
 
 (or, PISISTRATUS CAXTON on his way to AUSTRALIA 
 AFTER PARTING WITH FANNY TREV ANION.) 
 
 With heavy heart and flowing eyes, 
 
 The exile watched the setting sun — 
 The waves were quiet — and the skies 
 
 "Were soft, and sad to look upon. 
 No friend was nigh to share his tears, 
 
 No ear to list with kind intent, 
 No voice that soothes — no smile that cheers — 
 
 No eye on him in softness bent. 
 Alone 'mong strangers was he cast. 
 And life's sole charm lay in the past. 
 
THE EXILE. 4:7 
 
 The sun shone golden on the wave 
 Which wafted back the light it gave, 
 And peace so reigned along the sea 
 That e'en glad hearts beat pensively. 
 Eeclining o'er the vessel's side 
 The exile watched the sunlit tide, 
 And, bound by sunset's soothing hour. 
 He sadly yielded to its power. 
 
 And, like sweet tidings borne away 
 
 Upon the carrier-pigeon's wing, 
 His thoughts flew back, on sunset's ray. 
 
 To where his heart most loved to cling. 
 The joys of home again were known — 
 
 Affection's smile relit its beam. 
 And that fair form from which he'd flown 
 
 Kose sweetly o'er his mournful dream. 
 
 To chase the thought of her away — 
 
 To break the spell in which she bound him. 
 
 He'd fled from home — ^but each new day 
 As hopeless, joyless, still had found him. 
 
48 THE EXILE. 
 
 The misty dawn would scarce be gray 
 But he would rise to raeet the sun, 
 
 As if, in lighting her, its ray 
 
 Some kindred charm unknown had won. 
 
 Along the deck with downcast eye 
 
 He'd pace for hours in rev'rie lost, 
 Envying the waves which, gliding by. 
 
 On home's loved shore would soon be tost. 
 At times he sought the mainmast head, 
 
 Where, undisturbed, alone, and sad. 
 He lingered o'er each word she'd said 
 
 When life had seemed in sunshine clad. 
 
 At times some way-lost bird he scann'd 
 
 Whom fate had driven to his feet, 
 And felt as if stern sorrow's hand 
 
 Bade both their hearts in union beat. 
 When darkness came and others slept, 
 
 'No balmy rest to him was known — 
 Ko drowsy wings his eyelids swept — 
 
 His nest was one whence peace had flown. 
 
THE EXILE. 49 
 
 Thus eacli long liour througli day and night 
 
 Was spent, communing with the past — 
 Restoring olden ties to light, 
 
 Like dead leaves stirred by autumn's blast. 
 Time's feet to him wore ball and chain, 
 
 And life to him was one long sigh — 
 Hope's voice had ceased its gladsome strain 
 
 And joy's bright lamp seemed quenched 
 for aye. 
 
 No sea, whose waves the gales of June 
 Lift sparkling to the face of noon, 
 E'er showed the sunlight's dallying trace 
 More oft renewed upon its face. 
 Than, in his heart, one image dear, 
 Ruling his soul thi'oughout its sphere, 
 With every thought appeared to blend. 
 Renewed, reflected without end — 
 intwined with all that fondest seemed, 
 And all he sighed for, wept, or dreamed. 
 
50 THE EXILE. 
 
 The sun liad sunk beneatli the sea 
 
 In gorgeous, deep tranquillity — 
 
 The skies blushed back a soft adieu, 
 
 And evening's star gleamed on the view — 
 
 Soft twilight worked its melting spell, 
 
 And sorrow's tears ungoverned fell. 
 
 How sweetly once in such a light 
 
 Had her d^ar smile rejoiced his sight — 
 
 One spring-tide eve, when, walking slow. 
 
 His words broke forth in fervent flow. 
 
 And, first unveiling all his heart. 
 
 He learned how soon they two must part ! 
 
 'Twas hard to think life's hope was gone. 
 
 To feel his night would know no dawn, 
 
 Yet sweeter far to thus recall 
 
 What lay beneath the past's dark pall — 
 
 To roam amid the golden joys 
 
 Which fate uproots, but not destroys — 
 
 To steep the soul, as in a dream. 
 
 In memory's sad, but grateful stream — 
 
THE EXILE. 51 
 
 Than seek, by joining laiigli and shout, 
 To drive this fond remembrance out. 
 
 He rested long in reverie there, 
 His hands half-clasped as if in prayer ; 
 And when at length he rose to go. 
 Stemming awhile his sorrow's flow, 
 He paused to gaze upon the skies 
 Black with the tempest soon to rise. 
 And saw amid the clouds' grim pile 
 One star retaining still her smile — 
 'Mid storm and whirlwind still serene. 
 Spectatress calm of this dark scene, 
 And sole mark left to mortal eye 
 That told the glories of the sky. 
 
 How like this star was his sad dream ! 
 He found in memory's ling'ring beam 
 The last bright trace of joys, now fled. 
 Which once such rapturous lustre shed ! 
 Alas ! that their consoling light 
 Sliould be so soon extinct in night ! 
 
THE SLEIGH KIDE. 
 
 BY A SUFFEEER FEOM ONE OF THE SLEIGH-BELLES. 
 
 I. 
 
 THE DEPARTURE. 
 
 The sun rides high in the clear blue sky, 
 And the crisp north wind goes whistling by, 
 
 With a clip 
 
 And a nip 
 
 At the tip 
 Of every nose that it passes nigh. 
 The coachmen are clad in long blue capes. 
 The bundled-up ladies have Esquimaux shapes. 
 The men are wrapped up, to the tip of the 
 
 nose. 
 And the little black waiter boy 's nearly froze. 
 
THE SLEIGH KIDE. 53 
 
 The cart wheels creak as they roll in the snow, 
 And pedestrians slip on the pavement. 
 
 The mercury 's fell in a fit to zero. 
 
 And Aunt Emily stands at the casement ! 
 
 The clock has struck twelve ! And with ante- 
 lope haste. 
 Each lady comes flashing down stairs — 
 They're out with a spring ! Not a moment they 
 waste — 
 And now stand on the sidewalk in pairs. 
 
 Like gazelles on the crags of the great Al- 
 
 Mamoun, 
 The ladies bound in. 'Tis a minute past noon ! 
 
 With spirited speed 
 
 Each tinkling steed 
 Shakes his bells in the clear frosty air. 
 
 And swiftly each sleigh 
 
 Like an arrow makes way, 
 While the citizens stand — and stare ! 
 
54: THE BLEIGH RIDE. 
 
 n. 
 
 THE PARTY. 
 
 Two fair ladies lead off, attended by Lyde, 
 And a violet in furs takes a seat by liis side. 
 The cbap'ron comes next to preside o'er the 
 
 day, 
 And then, two brunettes, to illumine the way. 
 The frost makes their eyes doubly sparkling 
 
 and fair, 
 While balls of white worsted dance down on 
 
 their hair. 
 Their spirits are light as a glass of champagne. 
 And a flow of enchantment around them doth 
 
 reign. 
 Their cheeks far outdazzle the bloom of the 
 
 peach, 
 And their lips unto cherries a lesson could 
 
 teach ; 
 Two maidens so bright 'twas entrancing to 
 
 see — 
 Oh, who did not envy their blest vis-d-vis f 
 
THE SLEIGH KIDE. 55 
 
 James, of Waverley Place, has unbottled his 
 
 wits. 
 And Shore at his left in serenity sits ; 
 While the third, whom yon know, is observing 
 
 the ray 
 Of those beantifnl eyes in the back of the 
 
 sleigh. 
 
 The brilHant Miss Jenny, and "William the 
 kind,. 
 
 Have taken their seats in a sleigh far behind ; 
 
 While proud Geraldine, in a shower of splen- 
 dor, 
 
 Finds John and I^athaniel about to surrender. 
 
 Like a cluster of stars, the bright Jenny's Iotv- 
 
 mots 
 Flash joy o'er the hearts of this trio of beaux ; 
 While down like an army of glittering lances. 
 Fair Geraldine comes with her scintillant 
 
 glances, 
 
56 THE SLEIGH KIDE. 
 
 Carrying away the most stoic of men — 
 They scarcely know whither — nor wherefore — 
 nor when. 
 
 in. 
 
 THE JOURNEY. 
 
 How brightly the sun glitters down from the 
 
 blue, 
 And reveals to the eye this grand winter view ! 
 How the bells jingle ! 
 How the feet tingle ! 
 And how quickly the cold — gets inside of a 
 shoe! 
 
 How the wind blows 
 Past the tip of the nose, 
 As on the sleigh dashes, 
 Regardless of crashes, 
 Past houses and horses, sledges and courses. 
 Like Phaeton conducting Apollo's famed 
 horses ! 
 
THE SLEIGH EIDE. 57 
 
 How the road far behind us 
 Seems at once to remind ns 
 Of that glorious, grand Scandinavian tale, 
 Where heaven's made up of fine sleighing and 
 hail! 
 
 Oh, the glorious party, 
 How happy and hearty. 
 Ladies and gentlemen, all of them seem ! 
 Oh ! my eyes 1 are they open, or is it a dream? 
 How each sleigh 
 Speeds away 
 With a thousand more behind it ! 
 See it dashing 
 
 Out of sight — 
 Like gleams flashing 
 In the night ! 
 And now put your glasses on — and find it ! 
 Gone ! gone ! swift and light, 
 Tar beyond the scope of sight ! 
 Thus ere long the fair Sabrina 
 Will have fled to Carolina— 
 
 3* 
 
58 THE SLEIGH EIDE. 
 
 And moiirnfiil lovers will be seen 
 Searching round for Geraldine ! 
 
 Hark the voices gayly laughing 
 Mark the lovers fondly quaffing 
 
 Drops of joy- 
 Without alloy 
 By the side of maidens coy ! 
 
 Mark their tongues 
 
 And their lungs ! 
 
 How they chatter ! 
 
 What a clatter ! 
 
 Did you ever 
 
 Hear such clever, 
 Spicy, lively, lovely creatures. 
 With such winning, witching features ! 
 
 Oh, I never. 
 
 Surely never, 
 ITever dreamt of pleasure finer 
 Than that seat beside Sabrina. 
 
THE SLEIGH HIDE. 59 
 
 Far behind us Yorkville flies — 
 'Now we hurry 
 With a flurry 
 Where the heights of Harlem rise. 
 Mark you now the urchins skating 
 
 On the gleaming Harlem River — 
 See them sliding, tumbling, aching, 
 Yet enraptured — though they shiver ! 
 
 !N"ow a cloud's upon the sun — 
 
 ITow it shakes 
 
 Down some flakes 
 In our faces — oh, what fun ! 
 
 Now 'tis ended. 
 And the sun again is splendid ! 
 
 J^ow, we're bounding, 
 
 How astounding, 
 O'er a creaking, squeaking bridge — 
 Now a shrill and sharp northwester 
 Whistles down from bleak Westchester 
 And puts the driver in a fidge ! 
 
60 THE SLEIGH EIDE. 
 
 Now the country 's caught the mania 
 
 As we clatter 
 
 And we patter 
 Through the ways of Morrisania, 
 
 Past the people, 
 
 Past the steeple, 
 Like John Gilpin in Britannia. 
 
 Bless my stars ! 
 
 We've beat the cars ! 
 
 Whoa— o— oh ! ! 
 
 0—0— oh ! ! 
 
 The ride is done— 
 
 Oh, what fun ! 
 
 (Here I pause 
 Just because 
 I've no time 
 To write more rhyme. 
 And now, dear reader, here's good-night, 
 The rest, to-morrow, I may write !) 
 
THE SLEIGH RIDE. 61 
 
 IV. 
 THE COLLATION. 
 
 The coats are off, the hats are hung, 
 And shawls and shoes about are flung ; 
 Around the fire in circle seated, 
 Two dozen feet are getting heated ; 
 A dozen tongues are chatting lightly ; 
 Two dozen eyes are shining brightly, 
 And far within thick coats of wool 
 A dozen hearts are beating full. 
 
 Soon comfort sweet descends upon 
 These eager advocates of fan — 
 And just hecause their feet are dry 
 Through deepest snow again they hie. 
 
 But stop ! ho ! halt ! haste one, haste all ! 
 The fair Sabrina 's had a fall ! 
 Like a great avalanche descending 
 Upon a hamlet unoffending, 
 
62 THE SLEIGH KIDE. 
 
 Behold brave Shore, by impulse swayed, 
 Rush to her side to proffer aid — 
 And like a flower that bends its head, 
 Then lifts it up, fresh sweets to shed. 
 Behold Sabrina rise once more 
 Lovelier, rosier, than before. 
 While far beyond, with eager flow, 
 Through open fields and drifted snow. 
 Fair Geraldine, escorted, gay, 
 Like to a princess trips away — 
 And like a star, when clouds arise, 
 Is soon concealed to friendly eyes ! 
 
 (Scene Changes. A magnijicent feast set out in the banquet 
 hall of a friendly mansion. The guests standing round the 
 table, about to take their seats.) 
 
 First Gentleman {rising — con molto espresione). 
 
 " Ladies and lovers ! let each take a seat ! 
 Ladies and gentlemen ! eat, I entreat ! 
 Here is some turkey — and there's a pate ! 
 Ladies and gentlemen ! help yourselves, pray ! 
 
THE SLEIGH EIDE. 63 
 
 Here are some glasses, and there is the Avine, 
 Fill up for bumpers — be merry — and dine ! 
 William, my neighbor, takes charge of the 
 
 lamb, 
 And friend Peter yonder will slash at the 
 
 ham! 
 Gentlemen ! Hear me ! Be true to your post. 
 And see that the ladies prepare for a toast ! 
 'Tis a sentiment fit for a cold winter's day — 
 I give you, my friends : The helles of the 
 
 sleigh ! " 
 
 Second Gentleman {confused). 
 
 " Truly, my friends — being honored — this way. 
 Hem — hem ! — unprepared — at a loss — what to 
 
 say! 
 But the pleasure — to-day, hem ! — enjoyed by 
 
 us all, 
 For one toast — I am sure, hem ! — -just now — 
 
 seems to call ; 
 
64 THE SLEIGH KIDE. 
 
 I know 'twill receive — a response — warm and 
 
 hearty : 
 To the lady and friend who jpresides o'er the 
 
 jpartyP 
 
 Madame, the Chaperon {in her seat). 
 
 *' We appoint my friend here to express in our 
 
 cause, 
 Warm thanks to our Mends for their kindly 
 
 applause." 
 
 Third Gentleman {with enthusiasm). 
 
 " Ladies and gentlemen ! Kindest of friends ! 
 "When Madame commands — I'm the man that 
 
 attends ! 
 But full though my heart be of what I would 
 
 say, 
 My words seem all running the opposite way ; 
 So, not wishing to take up too much of your 
 
 time, 
 I'll give you a toast — the sentiment's jprhne / 
 
THE SLEIGH EHJE. 65 
 
 I drink to the health of one joyous and bright — 
 The spiGij Miss Jenny— a sleigh ride's delight. ^^ 
 
 Fourth Gentleman. 
 
 " I'm too quiet a man a long speech to recite — 
 So, to something more pleasing your thoughts 
 
 I invite ; 
 I give you : The conductor of Fancy's hright 
 
 car, 
 Fiquante Geraldine, an odmiHng world's 
 
 star:' 
 
 Fifth Gentleman. 
 
 " "With myself, every person that came in the 
 
 sleighs, 
 Will unite in our hostess' thiice-deserved 
 
 praise, 
 Her kindness, attention, devotion to all. 
 Like a shower of light on our hearts seems to 
 
 fall. 
 
66 THE SLEIGH EmE. 
 
 A bumper, my friends, then, and best wishes 
 
 too, 
 To the lady to whom to-day's pleasures are 
 
 dueP 
 
 Another Gentleman. 
 
 " Such gay speeches, to-day, we have listened 
 
 to here. 
 To invoke your attention e'en briefly I fear. 
 But one lady I'll toast, ere the party departs, 
 "Whom all have in their eye — and perhajps in 
 
 their hearts. 
 So, ladies and gentlemen, while the wine passes. 
 Lend me your ears, and replenish your glasses ; 
 And while others may toast, with their fanciful 
 
 powers, 
 A brilliant succession of stars and of flowers, 
 I beg to entwine 'mid that glittering whirl 
 A gem beyond value — Sdbrma the Pearl ! " 
 
THE SLEIGH RIDE. 67 
 
 {This toast, as well as each of its predecessors, having elicited 
 marks of intense approbation, the collation pursues its course, 
 amid great excitement and merriment. After a while, the 
 Last Gentleman, slowly rising, speaks as follows) : 
 
 " While all around us seems so bright, 
 
 And high each soul with joy is beating, 
 Along the edge of yon gray height 
 
 I see the orb of day retreating. 
 And soon these fields, now gay and white, 
 "Will mourn the day's departed light. 
 Thus, too, our hearts, so happy here, 
 Must soon be dimmed with sorrow's tear. 
 
 " Forgive me, friends ! I would not mar 
 
 A scene so fair with thoughts so sad. 
 But some now here will soon fly far. 
 
 And vainly would I now seem glad. 
 Four happy months have now flown by 
 
 Since Autumn drew us all together. 
 And we have felt, whate'er the sky, 
 
 Within our hearts 'twas sunny weather. 
 
68 THE SLEIGH EmE. 
 
 The frequent meetings, gay and kind, 
 The converse sweet of minds refined. 
 The lively jest allowed to roam, 
 The social seat in beauty's home. 
 The sweeter thought that we could blend 
 With all these joys the name of friend — 
 These all were wont each day to cheer — 
 And now their close each day draws near. 
 
 " In two brief weeks, this friendly band 
 With farewell steps will touch the strand, 
 And, down our glorious hill-girt Bay, 
 From hearts sincere will sail away. 
 Then time will wear a slower wing. 
 And o'er each hour its shadow fling. 
 While we behind will often meet 
 To dwell upon past moments sweet. 
 And wonder if, 'neath Southern skies. 
 Such thoughts to them at times arise ! 
 
 " The day, my friends, is wellnigh spent, 
 And soon we must be homeward bent : 
 
THE SLEIGH EIDE. 69 
 
 But joys there are at times to man, 
 Whicli gild all life's remaining span. 
 And sure I am, in future years. 
 When life is stripped of all save tears. 
 The thought of this delightful scene 
 Shall fill our souls with joy serene. 
 Bidding once more Miss Jenny's eyes 
 Across our view in brightness rise, 
 And sweet Miss Annie's kindly grace 
 Its softening music there retrace ; 
 "While, like two swans that stately ride 
 Adown some golden sunlit tide, 
 Amid the marks most fair and clear 
 Upon the stream of memories dear, 
 In peerless beauty will be seen 
 Sabrina sweet, and Geraldine ! " 
 
 With this he slow resumed his seat. 
 And host and guest prepared retreat. 
 And each one soon was in his sleigh, 
 In sweetness musing o'er the day — 
 Alas ! that such should pass away ! 
 
GIST A Y0U:NG LADY'S SLIPPEE. 
 
 ON HEAKING THAT SHE USED IT, ON HER KETURN FROM 
 A PARTY, TO KILL MOSQUITOS ON THE WALL. 
 
 What ! the little pink slipper I've watched 
 
 with a thrill — 
 That object so dainty made nse of to kill ! 
 What ! the shoe that so playfully peeped to 
 
 and fro, 
 Dealing death all around with its rosy tiptoe ! 
 
 Oh ! this vision would sadden the beaux who 
 
 at balls 
 Watch this Lilliput shoe as it gracefully falls ! 
 
n 
 
 Yes, 'twould grieve tliem to witness that sandal 
 so mincing 
 
 Give tlie creatures that buzz such a murder- 
 ous wincing ! 
 
 Oh, startling to them would it seem thus to 
 
 view 
 So winning a maid with so killing a shoe ! 
 And sad to discover that one of the Graces 
 With terrible Mars should consent to change 
 
 places ! 
 
 Yet, perchance, were they given to serious 
 
 thought, 
 They'd find the maid's shoe by her eyes had 
 
 been taught — • 
 For her glance is more fatal to mortals who 
 
 meet her, 
 Than the tip of her shoe to a little mosquito. 
 
THE NEW-BOEISr STAK. 
 
 As, when tlie south wind gently woos away, 
 Beneath Diana's chaste, resplendent ray. 
 Some frowning cloud, which, muifiing np the 
 
 Conceals from view Night's opulence on high, 
 A flood of radiance bursts o'er hill and plain, 
 And Nature, smiling, bathes in silver rain ; 
 So, when thy tapering hand withdrew the veil 
 Whose silken net is Beauty's coat of mail. 
 And in concentred force disclosed to view 
 The light thy sparkling eyes around thee 
 
 threw. 
 Did sense of dazzling charms my soul entrance. 
 And bid love banquet on thy merry glance. 
 
THE NEW-BORN STAR. Y3 
 
 Tlien, as each glowing look escaped thine eye, 
 
 Like meteor flashing from a summer sky, 
 
 Did holy fire invade my willing breast. 
 
 And kindle flames which never more can rest. 
 
 Then rang in merry music to mine ear 
 
 The joyous pealings of thy laughter clear, 
 
 As if a band of sportive nightingales 
 
 Had all at once run up and down the scales. 
 
 Then gleamed thine eyes, with merry thoughts 
 
 made bright, 
 The ofispring of thy sparkling fancy's might. 
 Which all the while maintained its brilliant 
 
 play, 
 Like sunlit fount upon a summer's day. 
 
 What marvel, then, such sweet surpassing grace 
 'Mid rival charms prove foremost in the race ! 
 What marvel, too, that joy should spread her 
 
 wings. 
 And memory still torment me with her stings, 
 
 4 
 
74: THE NEW-BORN STAE. 
 
 Since, ere in words my feelings found relief, 
 Thou fledst, like dewdrop gliding down a leaf, 
 And bore thyself and happiness away — 
 Renewing night at very break of day. 
 
 Ah ! happy moments, bright convergent goal 
 Of every joy that sways the human soul, 
 Ye are flown ! like birds on a winter's day. 
 Which come, sing once, then wing themselves 
 
 away ! 
 Brief, brief indeed ye were— and bright as 
 
 brief ! 
 'Mid life's myriad thorns, sole roseate leaf ! 
 
 And must I, fairest, never meet thee more ? 
 Must endless years one bygone hour deplore ? 
 O Jove ! thou on whose nod hangs human fate, 
 Consent — if never more in mortal state 
 We're doomed to meet — one common future 
 
 lot 
 Unite our souls in some Elysian spot, 
 
THE NEW-BORN 8TAE. 75 
 
 Where we, through Eden rounds of sunny 
 
 hours, 
 May roam for aye content amid its bowers. 
 And chasing love along the milky way. 
 Illume the welkin with earth's brightest ray, 
 Till mortals, wondering at these gleams afar, 
 Rend space with praises of the new-born star ! 
 
LOST— A BLACK AND TAN. 
 
 My dear Miss Julia D , 
 
 As I was sipping tea, 
 
 And mincing my sardine 
 
 The bohea sips between, 
 
 This morning at the Club, 
 
 (Old Fogj which we dub !) 
 
 My roaming vision fell. 
 
 Oh ! horrible to tell, 
 
 With queer, capricious caper. 
 
 Along the Times newspaper — 
 
 Page three, where " Zosf and Found'^'^ 
 
 And " Board " and " Wants " abound. 
 
LOST — ^A BLACK AND TAN. 77 
 
 And on that page I read, 
 With face suffused with dread : 
 " Lost ! Lost ! Last Sunday night, 
 Perhaps 'twas yet twilight, 
 While snuffing the fresh air 
 Eound Washington's cool square, 
 A terrier, black and tan. 
 Who answered as he ran 
 (That little English cur 
 Has superfinest fur), 
 To the queer name of Spider — 
 (His owner 's quite beside her). 
 Five Dollars to the man 
 Who'll bring the black and tan 
 Back to the weeping mourner 
 At ISo. 1— (the corner)." 
 
 My heart for grief did ache — 
 I couldn't touch the steak. 
 And tears ran warm between 
 Each nibble of sardine. 
 
78 LOST — A BLACK AND TAN. 
 
 Quoth I, " Dear me ! liow can 
 This pampered black and tan, 
 Whose suppers made him dream, 
 Live sans jpdtes^ sans cream ? 
 Can Julia smile again 
 Without her^^^^'^ chien f 
 And all the family, how 
 Can they be cheerful now ? 
 
 " Say, what will bring back glee 
 To that once gay coterie ? 
 What will the guests discuss, 
 !N"ow Spider makes no fuss ? 
 And what will quaintish Jim 
 Carp at, in lieu of him ? 
 And what will J. T. do 
 If Spider stays perdu f 
 And those reception days, 
 The same as Mrs. K.'s, 
 What topic will prevail 
 Instead of Spider's tail, 
 
LOST A BLACK AND TAN. 79 
 
 His smooth-haired, short-napped fur, 
 And, " Don't mind Spider, sir " ? 
 
 Oh ! dear Miss Julia D , 
 
 If only you could see 
 How much for you I feel. 
 How much I'd like to heal, 
 Like good consoling Christian, 
 This black and tan affliction. 
 You wouldn't think me queer 
 For calling you my dear. 
 But like me all the better 
 For writing you this letter. 
 
WHY I CALL YOU MY DEAK. 
 
 AN APOLOGY FOR HATING INADTERTENTLT CALLED A 
 YOUNG LADY " MY DEAR." 
 
 There's sometliirig so luring, my gentle Miss 
 Zell, 
 
 In the velvety glance of your eye, 
 And something so fresh in the magical spell 
 
 That bewitches our hearts when you sigh, 
 And something besides in your rich rosy pout 
 
 So certain our spirits to cheer. 
 That I often forget what my lips are about, 
 
 And unthinkingly call you my dear. 
 
 And unthinkingly call you my dear. 
 
WHY I CALL TOU MY DEAE. 81 
 
 And there's something so glad in the musical 
 peal 
 
 That reminds us of birds, when you laugh, 
 I frequently think, if your heart I could steal 
 
 I would give of my life, at least half. 
 And there's something so sweet in the mystical 
 doubt 
 
 Which at first bids us hope, and then fear, 
 That I often forget what my lips are about. 
 
 And quite carelessly call you my dear. 
 
 And quite carelessly call you my dear. 
 
 And your movements display such perfection 
 of grace. 
 As you trippingly glide through the dance. 
 That the Graces, if ever they stood in your 
 place. 
 To excel you, would stand a poor chance. 
 From the midst of such perils I may try to 
 sail out, 
 
 4* 
 
82 WAY I CALL TOTT MT DEAR. 
 
 But ere I have learned where to steer, 
 I too often forget what ray lips are about, 
 And unthinkingly call you my dear, 
 But — most honestly call you my dear. 
 
EPITHALAMIUM. 
 
 SmcE our flag of flirtation 
 
 Forever is furled, 
 In future, let's be 
 
 The best friends in the world. 
 
TO A FEMALE BUTTEKFLY. 
 
 Alas, if hearts had only eyes I 
 
 If they but were more coy and canny, 
 
 They'd oft be spared a strange surprise. 
 And shun the wiles of sweet Miss Annie. 
 
 For, dear Miss Annie, when I left 
 
 Those favored haunts of love and sulphur. 
 
 My soul still flew through memory's cleft 
 To find in Sharon an engulfer. 
 
 Where'er I went, there Sharon rolled, 
 Its finest rolling was your glances, 
 
TO A FEMALE BUTTEKFLY. 85 
 
 That lovelj spring I'd still behold — 
 The lovelj spring of your soft dances. 
 
 That noble view was ever near, 
 
 Far o'er the broad horizon spreading, 
 
 But, through it all, what shone most clear. 
 Was the soft radiance you were shedding. 
 
 The music still beguiled my ear — 
 The balls still flew along the alley — 
 
 That music which yom* lips made clear — 
 Whose " double sjpares'^ allowed no rally. 
 
 In such glad thoughts I sped along. 
 
 And artless, sweet, you stood before me. 
 
 The graces bid you join their throng. 
 And pleasant musings onward bore me. 
 
 Ere long, in Saratoga's halls, 
 
 An Ariel strange with news besets me : 
 Thy victims by the score he calls. 
 
 And with their hapless fortunes frets me. 
 
86 TO A FEMALE BUTTERFLY. 
 
 Bewitching — cruel ! sweet — severe ! 
 
 'Tis quite beyond my poor believing — 
 Is it so hard to be sincere — 
 
 Or is there pleasure in deceiving ? 
 
 I pause — in sadness — on the brink ! 
 
 'Tis time — though still the charm is round 
 me ! 
 I strive ! — yet cannot snap the link, 
 
 The golden link in which you've bound me ! 
 
THE CLOUD AND THE STAE. 
 
 A CLOUD one evening sighed to win 
 
 A twinkle from a favorite star — 
 But all in vain — tlie star stood cold, 
 
 And not a sparkle left lier car. 
 And jet the clond sought no new light, 
 
 But, faithful to his absent ray, 
 In silence prayed one sweet beam might 
 
 His sadness chase at last away. 
 
 "Were Jenny's smile that star's soft ray. 
 And my poor self the cloud enchanted, 
 
 Might not these flowers that prayej- convey— 
 And, if so, would that prayer be granted ? 
 
THE FOUNTAIN TKANSFORMED ; 
 
 OR, THE PLEA OP KITTY THE COQUETTE. 
 
 On the leaf of a lily the grasshoppers stood, 
 And their chirp died away in the moun- 
 tain — 
 The midsummer ray poured its light through 
 the wood, 
 And danced in the foam of the fountain. 
 The fountain was sparkling in silvery gleams, 
 
 Like bayonets bright in a battle, 
 And the spray, as it kissed the glistening 
 streams. 
 Breathed upward a musical prattle. 
 
THE FOUNTAIN TEANSFORMED. 89 
 
 The grasshoppers there, with a noisy lament, 
 
 "Were bewailing their lowly position — 
 And the fount, as it heard, canght the deep 
 discontent, 
 And was seized with a dream of ambition. 
 Then a voice of enchantment arose from the 
 stream. 
 And shook with its echoes the mountain. 
 As it pledged unto each to accomplish the 
 dream 
 Of the grasshoppers sad and the fountain. 
 
 " I would be," said the fountain, " a damsel of 
 grace. 
 And renowned for the wit of my answers," — 
 And the grasshoppers chose as the happiest 
 place 
 To live in the ball-room as dancers. 
 Then a talisman-wand round the grasshoppers 
 sped, 
 And at once they became " lady-jumpers," 
 
90 THE FOUNTAm TEANSFOEMED. 
 
 And their titles were Johnnie and Jimmy and 
 ^N'ed, 
 (The last 'twere as well to style 'bu7ivpers.) 
 
 Then the fountain itself passed in magic away 
 
 To the sound of the sorcerer's ditty, 
 And the drops that were wont in the sunsliine 
 to play 
 
 Became the bright eyes of dear Kitty ; 
 And the rainbows that lent their celestial tints 
 
 To adorn the fresh jets ever gleaming, 
 Were transformed into smiles whose electrical 
 prints 
 
 Are so oft on her countenance beaming. 
 
 And the soft airy brightness which hung in the 
 spray, 
 
 As it played in the sun's brilliant glances, 
 Lived again in the figure of Kitty so gay 
 
 As she floated away in the dances, 
 
THE FOTINTAIN TRANSFORMED. 91 
 
 And the restlessness which was the life of the 
 fount 
 Became part of the life of sweet Kitty — 
 And this shows why her heart keeps of sighs 
 no account, 
 ]^or bestows on mankind the least pity ; 
 For, if 'tis her nature forever to change, 
 
 Now shining, like the sun, and now setting. 
 We surely should not view her conduct as 
 strange. 
 If she spend all her days in coquetting. 
 
UI^CLE TOEY. 
 
 [Uncle Toby {the " nom de plume " of a member of a literary 
 and jovial club called the Nodes) is greeted with the follow- 
 ing^ on his return, after an absence of eighteen months in 
 England.^ 
 
 'Twas in the emerald montli of June, 
 One morning bright and clear, 
 
 The good old town of Liverpool 
 Was startled with a cheer — 
 
 'Twas Uncle Toby's last adieu 
 While stepping off the pier. 
 
 For eighteen months the London dew 
 Had settled on his nose, 
 
TJKCLE TOBY. 93 
 
 For eighteen months the stream of joy 
 
 By exile's blast was froze ; 
 His heart was chill, his soul was chill — 
 
 He was chilly to his toes. 
 
 At length the chain of banishment 
 
 "Was lifted from his soul ; 
 A sea of rapture o'er his heart 
 
 At once began to roll. 
 He danced for joy, till in his boots 
 
 His dancing wore a hole. 
 
 The grief that sat beside his heart, 
 
 J^or ever ventured out, 
 "Would soon have made him wondrous thin, 
 
 Like a spider's web, no doubt. 
 But he lived high on smoke and fog. 
 
 And famous London Stout. 
 
 Once, only once, he smiled — 'twas when 
 He crossed fair Julia's door ! 
 
94 UNCLE TOBY. 
 
 He drew lier hand inside his own — 
 
 His lips came close before — 
 She smiled, she blushed, she turned aside- 
 
 We'll mention nothing more. 
 
 At last, in glee, he told his friends 
 He must leave them for afar — 
 
 He packed his trunks, he kissed the maid, 
 He sat down in the car. 
 
 The spark that left the engine's flue 
 Seemed rapture's dawning star. 
 
 The good old Uncle Tobj stood, 
 E"ext morning, bright and sunny, 
 
 In such high spirits on the pier, 
 He looked, indeed, quite funny. 
 
 He felt as if he were a fly. 
 And all the sea were honey. 
 
 He wore a pair of pantaloons, 
 In hue resembling snuff, 
 
UNCLE TOBY. 95 
 
 So ample, that for two full men 
 
 Was more than room enough ; 
 Three tasty studs adorned his breast, 
 
 And two more clasped each cuff. 
 
 His locks, as usual, played -in curls — ■• 
 
 His noble brow was hid ; 
 The intellect of Bacon, with 
 
 The chivalry of Cid. 
 His smile was bright, and kept concealed 
 
 A slow revolving quid. 
 
 • 
 
 The steamer 's off. Now, pass we o'er 
 
 The fortnight on the ocean ; 
 Poor Toby 's mortal after all ! 
 
 He could not stand the motion. 
 With mustard hot they rubbed his chest, 
 
 His waistband with a lotion. 
 
 How often, when, on stormy nights. 
 They gave his ribs a rub. 
 
96 UNCLE TOBY. 
 
 "Would fancy seek to ease his pain 
 By winging toward this Club ! 
 
 Diogenes ne'er knew such woe 
 Within his little tub ! 
 
 On sunny days he'd pace the deck 
 And watch the dashing foam ; 
 
 Each wave appeared, with its bright face, 
 A messenger from home. 
 
 His soul was spangled o'er with hope, 
 Like heaven's starlit dome. 
 
 At length, the cry of " Land ! " was raised ; 
 
 " Gods ! did I rightly hear ? " 
 " Aye, land, sir, land ! " " 'Tis home, sweet 
 home ! " 
 
 And Toby gave a cheer. 
 He turned his head — then, wiped his eye — 
 
 'Twas no unmanly tear. 
 
 Joyfully danced a score of hearts 
 As Toby's name flew round ; 
 
UNOLE TOBY. 97 
 
 Witli kindred first, with Noctes next, 
 
 He welcome honest found. 
 And under many a corset bone 
 
 A timid heart did bound ! 
 
 Fond hearts were there exulting high 
 
 At Toby's glad return ; 
 And Toby's breast with grateful joy 
 
 Responsive long shall burn ! 
 And Noctes' hearts, to Time's last click. 
 
 His image shall inurn. 
 
 "Well, well bestowed this greeting was 
 
 To worth and merit true. 
 And oh, may Time oft, oft again 
 Such hallowed scenes renew ! 
 Now, my good friends, we'll take that 
 punch, 
 And your best Havana too ! 
 5 
 
UNEELENTING. 
 
 The leaves may fall before the blast, 
 And summer breezes cease to play, 
 
 But Nature will, ere autumn's past, 
 Awhile resume the smiles of May. 
 
 The harp may cease to charm the ear. 
 And pass untuned to sad decay. 
 
 But, as it snaps, some notes, once dear. 
 Along the breeze will float away. 
 
 The thunder-cloud may dim the skies 
 And cast its shadow o'er the day ; 
 
 But sunset will, ere daylight dies. 
 
 Cheer l!^ature's heart with mie bright ray. 
 
UNKELENTING. 
 
 But Ella's brow, once clouded o'er, 
 Betrays no warm returning beam ; 
 
 And the sweet smile which once she wore 
 Now only shines on Memory's stream. 
 
 Ah, Ella sweet ! 'Tis harsh indeed 
 Resentment thus so long to show ! 
 
 Forgive ! forget ! and once more bid 
 My clouded days in sunshine flow. 
 
THE STOEY OF THE COLD HEAET. 
 
 One dark night in midwinter, 
 
 When the world was asleep, 
 And the snow in the forest 
 
 Was gathering deep. 
 The fairies held conncil 
 
 In a ring ronnd a fire, 
 And imposed on a sister 
 
 This ordeal dire : 
 
 She must visit the slumbers 
 Of the young and the gay, 
 
 She must watch all their musings 
 By night and by day ; 
 
THE STOET OF THE COLD HEAKT. 101 
 
 Till a maid she encountered, 
 
 Gifted, gaj, perhaps tart, 
 But deprived by sad nature 
 
 Of that thing called a heart. 
 
 And the moment she met with 
 
 This unfortunate maid. 
 She never should rest till 
 
 A new heart she had made. 
 
 Darting, then, through the snowflakes, 
 
 The spry elf went with speed — 
 A hailstone her chariot. 
 
 And the tempest her steed. 
 With a heart full of trouble 
 
 She travelled all night. 
 And morn was near dawning 
 
 Ere she paused in her flight. 
 She examined each maiden, 
 
 "Was she fair, young, or gay, 
 But a heart she encountered, 
 
 At each point of the way. 
 
102 THE STORY OF THE COLD HEART. 
 
 Thus she went, worn with sadness, 
 
 Through the chill, frostj air, 
 Till at last she was wafted 
 
 To a large open square. 
 All was dark save one window. 
 
 Whence a light glimm'ring came ; 
 Which perceiving, the fairy 
 
 Went in search of its flame. 
 
 The mild light of the taper 
 Shed soft lustre around, 
 
 And revealed to the rover 
 Pretty Liz sleeping sound. 
 
 Playful smiles were frolicking 
 
 Eound her bright, ruby lips. 
 And her teeth — they were shining 
 
 " Like a basket of chips." 
 With a lively carnation 
 
 Her cheeks were suffused, 
 And her eyelids seemed winking. 
 
 With bright visions amused. 
 
THE STORY OF THE COLD HEART. 103 
 
 Little cupids were hopping 
 
 In and out of her curls, 
 And round her dimples were racing 
 
 In perpetual whirls. 
 
 The wanderer trembled 
 
 As she saw this bright face — 
 For a heart she was certain 
 
 She would meet in this place. 
 Still, she thought it were better 
 
 To look round ere she went ; 
 And so over the damsel, 
 
 Quite carelessly bent ; 
 When, lo ! she discovered. 
 
 With a smile and a start. 
 That this maiden, so charming. 
 
 Had all, all — lut a heart. 
 
 " So at last I have found her ! " 
 Says the elf, with a shout ; 
 Then, clapping her fingers, 
 Through the window hops out. 
 
104 THE STOEY OF THE COLD HEAET. 
 
 And wanders all over, 
 
 In a whirl and a whiz, 
 In the hope of inventing 
 
 A new heart for Miss Liz. 
 
 She puzzles her fancy 
 
 To contrive some good plan. 
 And tries all in succession. 
 
 From a fig to a fan. 
 Till at last a thought strikes her, 
 
 (Thoughts do strike, as you know), 
 And now, see ! she is rolling 
 
 A fresh ball in the snow. 
 
 Mark her eyes, how they sparkle ! 
 
 With what mischief they gleam ! 
 And how pleased to be gathered 
 
 The snowflakes all seem ! 
 How she sings as she shapens 
 
 The cluster of flakes. 
 And how archly at Lizzie 
 
 Her finger she shakes ! 
 
THE STOKY OF THE COLD HEART. 105 
 
 At length, the snow 's fashioned 
 
 To the shape fancy drew ! 
 And now, she shoots upward 
 
 To the " star-spangled blue," 
 Through the clouds and the whirlwind, 
 
 Through the frost and the night. 
 The cold load is transported 
 
 To the regions of light. 
 
 From a star gently twinkling, 
 
 She steals the best ray. 
 And a celestial sparkle 
 
 From the planet of day ; 
 From the robes of fresh morning 
 
 Takes the roseate hue, 
 And from heaven's pure azure 
 
 Cuts a patch of deep blue. 
 Then encircles these treasures 
 
 Eound the ball of fresh snow. 
 And once more to Miss Lizzie's 
 
 Hastens back on tiptoe ; 
 5* 
 
106 THE STOEY OF THE COLD HEAET. 
 
 "Where, amid her deep slumbers, 
 
 Without even a start, 
 She this ball introduces 
 
 In the place of her heart. 
 Then, the blue that was stolen 
 
 From the face of the sky- 
 Soon abandons the snowball, 
 
 And ascends to her eye. 
 And the ray whose first twinkle 
 
 In the heavens was lit. 
 Is now brilliantly lending 
 
 A fresh charm to her wit ; 
 "While the tint that was taken 
 
 From the roseate mom 
 Is now destined forever 
 
 Her bright cheek to adorn ; 
 And the fire that was stolen 
 
 From the face of the sun. 
 Lends a warmth to her manner. 
 
 Though at heart she has none. 
 
THE STOKY OF THE COLD HEAET. lOY 
 
 The fay's task thus accomplished, 
 She gives three little cheers, 
 
 And before turning homeward, 
 Drops these words in our ears : 
 
 " Marvel not, then, ye lovers, 
 
 If Miss Liz should prove cold, 
 When this secret mysterious. 
 
 Ye are privately told. 
 At the same time remember, 
 
 Should she touch your heart's chord, 
 With the little god's flambeau, 
 
 Even snow can be thawed." 
 
 Now, as I, dear Miss Lizzie, 
 
 Am beginning to scorch, 
 I would ask, have you ever 
 
 Felt the warmth of that torch ? 
 
ELLA'S FEOWN. 
 
 Am :— " 'Twas of the Blue Canaries:' 
 
 'TwAs at Miss Lucy's polka party, 
 
 A night or two ago, 
 I leaned against the parlor mantel 
 
 In quite a merry glow ; 
 But when I met her soft blue eyes 
 
 In anger looking down, 
 I heaved a sigh to think, alas, 
 
 'Twas lovely Ella's frown ! 
 
 And when the parting moment came. 
 And Ella rustled past, 
 
109 
 
 The sighs my heart kept sending out 
 
 Came fast and yet more fast. 
 I took one last, one lingering look — 
 
 A look that cast me down — 
 And then rushed out — oh, spare the tale ! 
 
 There still was Ella's frown ! 
 
 I've seen the shores of home, sweet home, 
 
 Fade in the distance dim. 
 And sighed amid deserted scenes. 
 
 Where once delight had been ; 
 But never have I felt the thrill 
 
 That cast my spirit down. 
 Like that I felt, when, going out, 
 
 I met dear Ella's frown ! 
 
THE MUSICIAN'S DEEAM. 
 
 Written on hearing that a time-honored ball-room musician had 
 fallen asleep in the supper room after a ball. 
 
 The guests are gone, and peace doth reign 
 
 Supreme in festive halls deserted ; 
 Fled is the dance, and hushed the strain 
 
 O'er airy feet erewhile exerted. 
 The merry laugh, the secret sigh, 
 The sparkling jest, the beaming eye, 
 
 The groups with pulses glowing, 
 The eager dancers wheeling by, 
 
 No longer round are flowing. 
 Dimly the tapers, flickering low. 
 The wavering wrecks of revel show 
 
Ill 
 
 With blue, uncertain ray, 
 And dancing shadows round them throw, 
 Like moonlight elves at play. 
 
 Upon a couch, in slumber flung, 
 
 Alone within these walls forsaken. 
 Exhausted Fritz, his nerves unwrung, 
 
 A moment's rest has taken. 
 His stiff gray locks the velvet press, 
 While dreams fantastic come to bless 
 
 This Orpheus of the heel unsteady ; 
 And shadows grim his nose caress 
 
 In many a dallying eddy ; 
 His quiet eyes lie snugly hid 
 Beneath each overhanging lid 
 
 Like stars behind a cloud — 
 And thus his soul of care is rid 
 
 By slumber's welcome shroud. 
 
 In former charms the faded belle. 
 When first she sipped at pleasure's well. 
 Before his vision rises ; 
 
112 
 
 Again he sees her bosom swell 
 
 With flattery's sweet surprises. 
 He marks her bearing proud and high, 
 Her rosy cheek, her joy-lit eye. 
 
 Her future bright with hopes undimmed — 
 Then sees those hopes prepare to fly, 
 Observes the dawning of a sigh. 
 
 Then, eyes with sorrow rimmed. 
 The color leaves the gas-worn cheek, 
 The sighing train new altars seek. 
 
 And hope prepares its pall ; 
 The haughty maid, abandoned, meek. 
 
 Is driven to the wall. 
 
 Again, he sees the present wife, 
 When first embarked on ball-room life, 
 
 Upon his dream returning — 
 Her brow with maiden blushes rife — 
 
 For native quiet yearning. 
 With artless grace her race is run — 
 She's pleased — is pleasing — courted — won ; 
 
113 
 
 Her fliglat is o'er ere scarce she 's risen, 
 A shelter 's found in home's firm ark, 
 
 Tliough fools may call it prison. 
 Contentment, health, illume her brow 
 
 With diadem of grace — 
 The faded belle, embittered now, 
 Disdaining erst the proffered vow, 
 
 Mourns beauty's vanished trace. 
 
 Before his eyes, in rapid round, 
 The pageant of the past doth bound, 
 
 In varied garb fantastic — 
 The " beardless stripling, big with sound," 
 
 And flying heel elastic. 
 The pompous pedant, filled with self. 
 The vacant banker, raised by pelf. 
 
 The blase rake turned epicure. 
 The matron with her subtle art) . 
 The daughter trained to act her part. 
 
 The maiden true and pure. 
 Beside each other jostling, rise, 
 
114 
 
 Pursuing each some fancied prize 
 
 In tlie carnival of fashion ; 
 Till some withdraw, by time made wise, 
 And some fall ofi*, with swimming eyes, 
 
 And faces sunk and ashen. 
 
 Thus all is changing, all is new — 
 The fiddler only, lingers true 
 
 To gayety through all. 
 Or sad, or gay, he sits it through. 
 
 And heeds not Time's footfall ; — 
 The only link unbroken still 
 
 That tells of joys departed, 
 Tears, cares, in vain his eyes may fill — 
 
 He cannot be soft-hearted. 
 His strain may speed the bright bon-mot. 
 May bid aflfection's language flow. 
 May fan the spirits, prompt the sigh, 
 Or make young hearts with hope swell high. 
 Yet still, 'mid all, unmoved he sits. 
 
 Not tasting, though dispensing pleasure ; 
 
115 
 
 Around him joy, a stranger, flits — 
 He only times the measure. 
 
 Upon his brow ten thousand eyes, 
 
 The fresh, bright eyes of by-gone beauties ; 
 Upon his ear, ten thousand sighs. 
 
 From hearts first learning love's sweet duties ; 
 Before his gaze ten thousand forms. 
 
 The graceful forms of maidens dancing,— 
 Have passed for years — as ocean-storms 
 
 Pass o'er a rock 'mid waves advancing. 
 And now, when eyes have ceased to glisten, 
 And wearied ears decline to listen. 
 When leaden feet refuse to dance, 
 When hearts forget their youthful trance. 
 And conquering Time o'er all may boast, 
 He, he alone, retains his post. 
 
 Imparting life to younger faces, 
 As if the Past had left its ghost 
 
 To warn, while gladdening present races. 
 
THE SEPAEATION. 
 
 Faik Anna's heart with joy beats high — 
 Hope's torch ilhimes her soft blue eye — 
 For night has come, and all is gay 
 Within the halls of Gray-Fitz-Gray. 
 
 Music trembles through the air — 
 Flowers greet her everywhere — 
 Founts send forth a silver plashing, 
 Lights like gems are brightly flashing ; 
 Youths are flirting to and fro. 
 
 Lips are lisping love's sweet matins, 
 "Waltz is making pale cheeks glow, 
 
 Feet come peeping through rich satins ; 
 
THE SEPARATION. 117 
 
 Chinese lamps shine softly down, 
 
 Doubling thus the gazer's pleasure, 
 But oh ! their softness is outdone 
 
 By winning Anna's glance of azure. 
 Smiles are playing round her lips, 
 And she is dancing polka-trips, 
 While lookers-on admiring stand, 
 As if she'd flown from fairy-land, 
 For none there is more light or gay 
 Within the halls of Gray-Fitz-Gray. 
 
 Her hair is light — of Saxon hue — 
 Decked in a wreath of tender blue. 
 And her soft eyes, which, when at rest. 
 Awaken thoughts of spirits blest, 
 Are radiant now with gleaming light, 
 Keminding one of streams at night. 
 Which, smooth and calm when seen by day, 
 Then show all heaven's stars at play ; 
 And the same joy that lights her face. 
 Breathes spirit to her every motion. 
 
118 THE SEPARATION. 
 
 And lends her step sncli winning grace, 
 That all hearts round are in commotion. 
 
 Little she deems, thus dancing round, 
 
 Her poor down-hearted friend Kobb Stenson, 
 To far Pacific regions bound, 
 
 Is soon his jom-ney to commence on. 
 But soon the tidings sad she'll know, 
 
 And then her words, with honest feeling, 
 A friendly grief shall gently show. 
 
 Her generous nature thus revealing. 
 
 Poor Eobb is sad, and memory's charm 
 
 Has drawn him far from all before him — 
 (Let him beware lest some swift arm, 
 
 In waltzing past, should strike and floor 
 him ;) 
 His large black eyes have lost their fun — 
 His bushy hair is quite undone — 
 His whiskers stand in sadness out — 
 And he that watches, scarce can doubt 
 
THE SEPARATION. 119 
 
 Some cloud has darkened Kobb's great heart, 
 And makes him loath from home to part. 
 
 II. 
 
 Eobb's heart is tracing old times o'er — 
 Now Sharon's joys revive once more — 
 Now each bright scene exists anew, 
 And sparkles in his raptured view. 
 
 And his vast orbs are opened wide 
 To let the rush of memory's tide 
 Find easy access to his soul 
 And sweep it through from pole to pole. 
 
 * * * * 4f * 
 
 * * ■» * -Jt * 
 
 III. 
 
 So Stenson mused, and so grew sad. 
 So lost in grief, he scarcely had 
 A thought of aught around him. 
 
120 THE SEPARATION. 
 
 (TJnlieeding e'en the smiling glance 
 That stole o'er shoulders in the dance), 
 
 So close the vision bound him. 
 For 'twas so hard, where life was bright, 
 Where pleasure shone w4th sjren light. 
 
 And all was captivation. 
 To strike one's hopes in their full flight. 
 And hurl them down from their proud height. 
 
 With thought of sej)aration ! 
 
 But, as rich mottoes at our balls. 
 Ere suj^per 's half prepared for calls. 
 Are charged upon from far and near. 
 And in a twinkling disappear — 
 Or, as a mist, when gales arise. 
 Divides itself, and, flying, dies, — 
 So Stenson's thoughts of gloomy cast, 
 When Anna smiling near him passed. 
 At once departed from their sphere, 
 And rose to regions gay and clear ; — 
 And never did fair Anna know 
 His words more bright or gayly flow. 
 
THE SEPARATION. 121 
 
 And never had her sweetness stole 
 With deeper magic to his soul. 
 
 The hours flew onward light and fast ! 
 The parting moment came at last ! 
 And Stenson stood, with mournful face, 
 "Watching her last departing trace. 
 And when he'd breathed his last adieu, 
 And she had vanished from his view, 
 His heart grew sad — he heaved a sigh — 
 He checked the tear that filled his eye — 
 And, hast'ning out into the night, 
 Was quickly lost to joy and sight. 
 Ah ! none e'er went so sad away 
 From the bright halls of Gray-Fitz-Gray. 
 
 6 
 
LINES IN AN ALBUM. 
 
 YoTJ want a line, 
 
 A little line, 
 To help fill up this pretty book ; 
 
 Now, there's one line 
 
 Alone, that's mine, 
 And that is fastened to a hook. 
 
 Yet if. Miss Lill, 
 
 You only will 
 Hold out that line, with smiles as bait. 
 
 Flows not the rill 
 
 Contains the gill 
 More glad than I to risk its fate. 
 
OlSr THE ENGAGEMENT OF A BACHE- 
 LOR FEIEND. 
 
 The lamp of delight flickers low in the club, 
 And the hearts of the club-men in sable are 
 hung, 
 For fortune hath given their household a rub ! 
 A bachelor's knell from Love's belfry has 
 
 rung. 
 And his fall through the conclave its shadow 
 has flung. 
 
 The bachelors grieve, as, with eyes full of tears. 
 Remembrance flies back to the nights foil of 
 
 joy— 
 
124 ON THE ENGAGEMENT OF A BACHELOR. 
 
 To the times when their hearts shook hope's 
 
 welkin with cheers, 
 And Gilbert, unpledged, was a bachelor boy, 
 A free boy, whom love yet had not dared to 
 
 decoy. 
 
 Uncle Toby in silence leans back on the wall. 
 
 And a tear like a diamond gleams on his lid ; 
 He remembers how once they kept bachelors' 
 hall. 
 And, reviving the joys which that gay sea- 
 son hid, 
 Lets a mnffled sigh steal through a bulwark 
 of quid. 
 
 The jolly fat Doctor is puffing the weed. 
 
 And looks in the smoke like a Bacchus in 
 
 fog— 
 A train of sad musings sweep o'er him with 
 
 speed, 
 
ON THE ENGAGEMENT OF A BACHELOK. 125 
 
 As, like Rip Yan Winkle returned from his 
 
 bog, 
 He finds his old cronies fast waxing incog. 
 
 The Professor is grave, and caresses the hope 
 
 His lot may at last be as sunny as Gil's ; 
 The Rhymer, too sad, foregoes metre and 
 trope — 
 And Fred, slowly drifting down memory's 
 
 rills, 
 Finds blue devils blockading friendship's 
 bright mills. 
 
 While Gilbert, if sad, shows the sadness of joy, 
 Like a star that grows pale to give place to 
 the sun ; 
 He feels there 'd be left in joy's gold no alloy. 
 If each club-man were destined life's journey 
 
 to run 
 With so charming a mate as the maid he has 
 won. 
 
126 ON THE ENGAGEMENT OF A BACHELOE. 
 
 Ah, lovely Lucinda — so sparkling and young, 
 And you, Gilbert, good friend of our youth's 
 brightest days, 
 May plenty and peace in your pathway be 
 flung, 
 And all the delights ye have shed on our 
 
 ways 
 Return to you daily with multiplied rays ! 
 
 May contentment and health be the steeds of 
 life's car. 
 
 With flowers around you and sunshine be- 
 fore — 
 And oh, may your old friends, like beams from 
 a star. 
 
 Escorting you on to the brink of Time's 
 shore. 
 
 In one nook of your hearts shed a gleam ever- 
 more! 
 
TO MISS SALLY, 
 
 ON PRESENTING HER WITH A PAIR OF BASKET EAR- 
 RINGS, MADE BY THE INDIANS AT SARATOGA. 
 
 Little trinkets made of wicker, 
 
 Go and swing upon her ear ! 
 As your swing grows quick and quicker, 
 
 Tell, oh, tell her she is dear ! 
 
 Go and play among her tresses — 
 
 In her dimples seek retreat ! 
 Give her pretty cheeks caresses ! 
 
 Tell, oh, tell her she is sweet ! 
 
128 TO MISS SALLY. 
 
 Waking, put her in a gale, 
 
 Dreaming, round her visions dally ; 
 Tell, oh, tell her Love's in jail. 
 
 Sighing, praying for a Sally. 
 
THE THEEMOMETEE. 
 
 TO A TOUNa LADY WHO PLAYFULLY DECLINED RE- 
 CEIYING A MICROSCOPIC THERMOMETER. 
 
 Oh, surely you'll grant one may give without 
 
 harm, 
 To so charming a lady so trifling a charm / 
 You said " 'twas a trifle you ought not to 
 
 take — 
 That the glass was so brittle you knew it would 
 
 break." 
 
 But better, far better, the silvery thread 
 From its little glass prison had vanished and 
 fled, 
 
130 THE THEKMOMETEK. 
 
 Than prove to a friend, in his efibrts at pleas- 
 
 He had risen no higher than just above ^' freez- 
 ing?^ 
 
 Little thread of quicksilver! how little you 
 knew, 
 
 In marking the cold, you marked friendship's 
 height too ! 
 
 And how little the lady who watched you de- 
 scend. 
 
 Was aware of the fall in the heart of a friend ! 
 
AULD LANG SYKE. 
 
 There's a toast, my dear boys, we must drink 
 
 In a bnmper, to-nigbt, before parting— 
 A toast of wbich never I tbink, 
 
 But tears to my eyelids come starting— 
 An old toast wbicb bas drained seas of wine, 
 
 And will drain many otbers bereafter — 
 'Tis tbe toast we drink to Auld Lang Syne, 
 
 To remind ns bow brief is onr langbter. 
 
 'Tis a toast wbicb restores ns old friends. 
 And fills ns witb tbongbts sadly pleasant, 
 
 And tbns Memory gratefully blends 
 
 Tbe soft joys of tbe Past witb tbe Present ; 
 
132 AULD LANG STNE. 
 
 So I give you, my friends ; Auld Lang Syne — 
 'Tis a tribute we owe to affection, 
 
 And one which will season our wine 
 With a mournful yet happy reflection. 
 
IMPKOMPTU 
 
 TO A FAIR SOUTHERNER, DURING THE DISCUSSION OF 
 THE "fugitive SLAVE LAW." 
 
 The ]S"ortli is striving far and wide 
 
 To set the South all free ; 
 The South responds by dooming us 
 
 To hopeless slavery. 
 
 By Southern eyes our ITorthern hearts 
 
 In silken chains are bound — 
 And bound so firm, that never here 
 
 Shall ^^ fugitives " be found. 
 
LINES 
 
 WBITTEN ON BEING REQUESTED TO CONTRIBUTE TO AN 
 ALBUM BY A LADY WHO HAD WORKED ME A PURSE. 
 
 I've been trying, Miss Anna, long trying to 
 think 
 
 Of a trifle poetic to write yon, 
 But, spite of the wish, and a river of ink, 
 
 'Tis in vain I attempt to delight you. 
 What a rudeness it is Inspiration " do7ii^t come,'''' 
 
 When I've sent her ^' a Jdnd invitation ! " 
 'Tis a slight after which 'twere a sin to keep 
 dumb. 
 
 And a crime not to feel indignation ; 
 
LESTES IN AN ALBUM. 135 
 
 So, here's a reproof to great Poesy's queen 
 For despising my deep admiration — 
 
 Wliich I'll send (when I learn where Her Grace 
 may be seen). 
 Addressed to her own habitation. 
 
 But how puzzling to settle a deity's home 
 Whose life 's but a search after Beauty, 
 
 And varies like light fi'om a stained glass dome 
 In pontifical temples of duty — 
 
 Now dwelling in flowers, now basking in light, 
 Now to heaven's blue canopy soaring. 
 
 And now found in a smile, now in battle's stem 
 
 figH 
 
 Now in tears that a damsel is pouring ! 
 
 'Tis thus Inspiration, for aye on the wing, 
 
 Is so difficult, oft, to be taken ; 
 Yet, 'tis said there are haunts where more 
 gladly she'U sing, 
 
 And from whence she can vainly be shaken. 
 
136 LINES IN AN ALBUM. 
 
 Thus she lies, my dear lady, concealed at all 
 times. 
 In the smiles romid your visage that cluster, 
 In the tone of your voice, in its musical chimes, 
 
 And your blue eyes' beautiM lustre. 
 And she shines, like a star, through your bright 
 repartees, 
 When in ball-rooms surrounded you're sit- 
 ting— 
 But, oh ! surely she's never more likely to please, 
 Than at home, when you're gracefully knit- 
 ting. 
 
A EEQUEST, 
 
 TO BE FOUND, IN VABIOUS GUISES, IN EVERYBODY'S 
 ALBUM. 
 
 When thy bark of existence youth's tropic has 
 past, 
 And hope's spotless canvas forever is furled, 
 Let the spyglass of mem'ry a moment be cast 
 On the spot I have filled in this weak, wick- 
 ed world. 
 And when thus I'm brought back once again 
 to thy view, 
 In the dimness of years may my sins fade 
 away, 
 
138 A REQUEST. 
 
 And thy glass, as it dwells on a friend ever 
 true, 
 Prompt a smile o'er thy visage in kindness to 
 stray. 
 
HOW WELL I REMEMBEK. 
 
 How well I remember that cold winter's niglit, 
 
 When first jon arose to my view ! 
 How you beamed, as you smiled, like a star at 
 its height. 
 
 And your eyes — oh, how brilliantly blue ! 
 Tliey gleamed with a sparkle of cheerfuUest 
 light, 
 
 Which illumed your sweet dimples below, 
 And I felt, as I studied their dear gentle might. 
 
 How little your charm you did know. 
 
 And well I remember our hearts' lively bound 
 When next we stood rapt at your dancing ; 
 
140 HOW WELL I KEMEMBEK. 
 
 For your feet, as they turned, turned a head at 
 each round, 
 And all felt that " the foe was achancingy 
 
 But well I recall greater charms than all 
 these — 
 I remember the gentle expression 
 Of refinement so modest, so certain to please, 
 Which captured our friendship's possession. 
 And that frankness of manner and lightness of 
 soul 
 So opposed to the world's chilly ways, 
 That it seemed, when I met you, like leaving 
 the pole, 
 To bask in the tropic's bright rays. 
 
WITH AN ANONYMOUS BOUQUET. 
 
 Canst not read me from afar, 
 Sweetly beaming, beauteous star ? 
 Thou, who art so calm, so bright, 
 Canst thou guess thy satellite ? 
 
SUNNY SUE. 
 
 A VISION OF PAIRT-LAND. 
 
 " Dreams are but interludes, which fancy makes ; 
 When monarch reason sleeps, this mimic wakes ; 
 And many monstrous forms in sleep wo see, 
 Which neither were, nor are, nor e'er can be." 
 
 Drtdbn. 
 
 The author of the following effusion having informed a 
 young lady of his acquaintance, that he had recently passed a 
 night at a country house, where she was in the habit of visiting, 
 he was asked if this interesting coincidence had not given a 
 favorable color to his dreams. 
 
 He replied by sending her this account of the vision he had 
 on that occasion, in which a bright pillar of light was seen to 
 descend from the heavens in the very dead of the night, and, 
 as it approached the earth, became imperceptibly merged 
 into the shape of a human being — which, on examination, proved 
 according to the most orthodox rules, to be the only mortal it 
 could be — ^the heroine of the " spare room," and of the follow- 
 ing poem. 
 
SUNNY SUE. 143 
 
 There is gladness on high — and the adamant 
 
 stars 
 Are chanting soft hjmns on their crystalline 
 
 cars, 
 And from Eden's blue valleys, elysian cheers 
 In unison blend with the song of the spheres. 
 A host of white angels, in gorgeous array, 
 Like sentries keep watch thro' the broad Milky 
 
 Way; 
 While a troop of gay sprites aroimd each glow- 
 ing planet 
 With the wave of their winglets is stationed to 
 
 fan it. 
 Awakening sparks by thus shaking their 
 
 wings 
 Which seem twinkles below to terrestrial 
 
 things. 
 The demons of j&re from a bright lunar 
 
 bow 
 In sport shower down shooting-stars thick as 
 
 snow. 
 
144 SUNNY SUE. 
 
 "While other take seats on a comet's long tail 
 And go strolling about in a paradise gale. 
 
 In majesty mild sails the moon through the 
 
 skies, 
 Bidding clouds as her escort from darlmess 
 
 arise — 
 And, in floods of clear silver, her mellowing 
 
 rays 
 Shed on land and on sea an ethereal blaze. 
 Along her pale beams, 'twixt the earth and the 
 
 sky, 
 A cherub Express doth incessantly ply. 
 Engaged all night long in transporting on 
 
 high 
 Some Juliet's lament, or some Eomeo's sigh. 
 
 On earth, all is hushed — the soft breath of the 
 night. 
 
 Despoiling the rose, loads the gale with de- 
 light— 
 
SUNNY SUE. 145 
 
 The forest is still — and the dwelling of 
 
 man — 
 And nought is astir but the elfin's wee 
 
 clan — 
 They are tripping it glad 'neath the shade of 
 
 the cedar, 
 And a violet-leaf is the badge of the leader, 
 Who presides in great pomp from a throne of 
 
 sjringa 
 And regulates all with the wave of his finger. 
 The hand of each fay on his partner's slight 
 
 waist, 
 By the lightning-fly's sparkle may faintly be 
 
 traced — 
 On the waters afar, in a lily canoe, 
 A party of pleasure is gathering dew, 
 While dying away down each jessamine glade 
 Float the tiny accords of some fay's serenade. 
 
 But oh ! a bright flash hath leaped out from 
 the sky ! 
 7 
 
146 STTNNY SUE. 
 
 And gilds witli its glare all on earth and on 
 
 high! 
 The alcove of Sol, in the dead of the night, 
 Its portals has oped to a pillar of light ! 
 And, thrilled with amazement, the earth and 
 
 the sea. 
 The angels on high, and the oiiphes on the lea. 
 The seraphs and stars — in mnte earnestness 
 
 bent. 
 Pause, confused — overwhelmed — at this won- 
 drous event. 
 From heaven's blue dome no more anthems re- 
 sound — 
 The meteors stop in the midst of their bound — 
 The cricket is silent — the dancers are still — 
 And the waterfall patters no more down the 
 
 hill— 
 Their perfumes the flowers no longer distil, 
 And glimmers no more the moon's ray on the 
 rill— 
 
SUNNY SUE. 147 
 
 All — all is suspense — heavens, eartli, and tlie 
 
 sea, 
 All watching this flash, so untimely set free. 
 
 With celestial grace it takes downward its way. 
 Casting off by degrees the effulgence of day 
 For a garb which, though telling of heaven's 
 
 glad portals, 
 Is just earthly enough to be gazed at by mor- 
 tals — 
 A garb of such radiance, it dazzles the soul. 
 And to bask in its halo is Hope's highest 
 
 goal — 
 'Tis the garb of a damsel more sparkling than 
 
 dew, 
 Loved — worshipped on earth — as the sunny 
 witch Sue. 
 
 And now she's attaining the close of her 
 
 flight- 
 As gently — as still — as a sigh of the night. 
 
148 SUNNY 8FE. 
 
 Her foot from a daisy just dashes the dew 
 And now — now — the fiiiries are full in her 
 
 view. 
 Her journey is o'er ! 'Tis announced from on 
 
 high, 
 'Tis breathed in the stars, and the ocean's soft 
 
 sigh. 
 From the towers of heav'n and its battlements 
 
 blue 
 A lightning-salute flies the universe through — 
 The moon-beams resume more than wonted dis- 
 
 And the rivers their course — and the fountains 
 
 their play ; 
 The south wind goes sighing down each balmy 
 
 glade. 
 And the meteors fall in a sparkling cascade — 
 In voluptuous fragrance the blossoms float 
 
 round. 
 And showers of rose-leaves besprinkle the 
 
 ground — 
 
SUNNY SUE. 149 
 
 The elfins join hands 'neath the willow-tree 
 
 shade, 
 And indulge with a shout in a brisk gallopade. 
 
 Then, the timbrels of seraphs, the hymns of 
 
 the stars. 
 And the musical whirl of their crystalline cars, 
 And the cheering of cherubs along the clear 
 
 azure. 
 And the forest birds' notes as they catch the 
 
 glad measm-e. 
 And the chiming so tiny of sentry-fays' bells 
 As they tinkle in rapture from hillocks and 
 
 dells, 
 And the warblings delicious of nymphs of the 
 
 stream 
 As they peal their soft choir in the mellow 
 
 moonbeam. 
 All blend in ecstatic, tumultuous swell 
 To welcome and worship this heaven-born belle. 
 
150 StTKNY SUE. 
 
 The fairy-queen's court down a liazel arcade, 
 
 To greet her, advance in a long cavalcade — 
 
 Ten thousand small lamps from the twigs drive 
 the gloom 
 
 And reveal trains of chariots carved of mush- 
 room, 
 
 "While columns of incense, the emblem of 
 praise, 
 
 Eise gracefully up from the tulip's rich vase. 
 
 Then follow by myriads the goblins on foot, 
 
 O'erflowing each spot where an elf can be 
 put — 
 
 The juvenile elves, too, with frolicksome gam- 
 bols. 
 
 Are perched all about on the briers and bram- 
 bles — 
 
 And, now spreading her wings of the lily's soft 
 hue, 
 
 The fairy-queen speeds to salute her guest Sue. 
 
 Sunny Sue is reclining, with soft nonchalance, 
 In a bower of roses ; — her dark, flashing glance 
 
SUNNY SUE. 151 
 
 Throiigli her eyelids lialf-shut flings its tremu- 
 lous ray. 
 Like tlie flame tliat is seen thro' the cannon's 
 
 smoke gray ; 
 Her brow is so bright, so serenely composed, 
 It speaks heaven within and the gates but half 
 
 closed, 
 And throughout her whole presence there 
 
 breathes such sweet grace 
 Her descent from the angels 'tis easy to trace — 
 Her half-open lips, 'gainst the clear pearly 
 
 row, 
 Seem like strawberries laid on a wreathlet of 
 
 snow — 
 And the smiles that play round from her lips 
 
 to her eyes, 
 Like gleams of soft lightning in clear summer 
 
 skies. 
 Are a pledge that warm feeling is glowing 
 
 within 
 And the morrow in sunshine its course will be- 
 gin ; 
 
152 SUNNY SUE. 
 
 And her gracious expression so full of esprit^ 
 So brilliant, so varied, so witcliingly free, 
 Is evidence sure of the sparks she'll emit 
 "When called to take part in a contest of wit — . 
 And the veil of good nature that mellows it all 
 Is a proof that her foe will be spared in his 
 
 fall, 
 For, fall he is sure to, whatever his race — 
 If not bj her wit, he must fall by her grace, 
 Or, if not by her grace, by the glow of good 
 
 feeling 
 And the thousand sweet charms that her soul 
 
 keeps revealing. 
 
 With her heart filled with awe at this beaute- 
 ous view, 
 The fairy- queen pauses in front of bright Sue — 
 Then, gathering trust from her eyes full of fun, 
 She kisses outright the fair maid of the sun. 
 'Tis the signal of joy — and ten thousand wee 
 
 cheers 
 In showers of music enliven Sue's ears — 
 
SUNNY SUE. 153 
 
 The i?iArj-noUesse^ each with humming bird's 
 
 plume, 
 Flit forward to fan her soft cheek's rosy bloom ; 
 While some at her feet cast a curious glance, 
 And ask, are they not quite too tiny to dance ; 
 And some, to observe, on the shrubs take a 
 
 stand — 
 And some hop about in the palm of her hand — 
 And some smooth her hair— and a few kiss 
 
 her cheek. 
 While some in her dimples play " Bide and 
 
 Go Beekr 
 Till at length Sunny Sue, fully roused by their 
 
 kindness. 
 Opens broad her bright eyes—and dooms hun- 
 dreds to blindness ! 
 For, so wondrously clear is her glance's rich 
 
 gleam. 
 It dazzles them like the sun's light on a stream, 
 Making numbers around mourn the loss of 
 their sight. 
 
154 SUNNY SUE. 
 
 For having once studied her glance at its 
 height. 
 
 This great presence of peril alarms the whole 
 
 Court, 
 Who order fresh poppies at once to be brought, 
 And then (lest Sue's victims should strengthen 
 
 in number) 
 Eind her gently and soft in the chains of sweet 
 
 slumber. 
 As the sun in his glory sinks down in the wave. 
 Yet leaves traces behind of the lustre he gave, 
 As exquisite music whose strains have just 
 
 ceased 
 Sweet echoes still renders, the senses to feast, 
 So Sunny Sue's glance leaves a lingering ray. 
 Like the halo of saints, round her eyelids to 
 
 play, 
 Hetaming such grace in the realms of sleep, 
 That angels e'en waking for envy would weep. 
 
SUNNY SUE. 156 
 
 And now, Eoyalty winks — and each elfin by 
 
 turns 
 Makes his little low bow and in qniet adjourns, 
 Leaving none but the queen and her stout 
 
 body-guard 
 The demons of darkness from Sue to discard. 
 Her Majesty rests till the echoes expire 
 Of the chariot- wheels as they briskly retire — 
 And when the last fay flits away through the 
 
 grass, 
 She unbosoms in secret a talisman-glass — 
 Then, approaching Sue's heart with a dear lit- 
 tle grin, 
 Gives a wink like a twinkle, and winking, 
 
 peeps in. 
 The glass has the power of magic reflection. 
 And to innermost thoughts is avoidless detec- 
 tion — 
 So, the fairy-queen fathoms the heart of bright 
 
 Sue, 
 And this spectacle strange is unveiled to her 
 view. 
 
156 SUNNY SUE. 
 
 A miniature lake with a face of smooth ice, 
 A steep isle in the centre of heavenly price — 
 Is the sight greets her glance. The gay sun of 
 
 Flirtation 
 Pours its rajs on the scene and instils anima- 
 tion 
 To the skaters in groups, who go dashing about 
 "With the grace of a snow-flake and speed of a 
 
 trout. 
 All eagerly bent, with intensest expression. 
 On the lake's frosty face to engrave an impres- 
 sion — 
 .For, 'tis writ that whoever most deeply shall 
 
 trace 
 His image thereon, shall the others ejfface. 
 And capture the island — then, lord it above 
 In this sanctum sanctorum so rugged of Love — 
 Aye, rugged indeed — for, to scale it to glory 
 Is reserved for such names as are blazoned in 
 
 story. 
 Or such (how the chance sets .our soul in com- 
 motion) 
 
suns-NY SUE. 157 
 
 As besiege it with truth, dauntless love, and 
 devotion. 
 
 On the shores of the lake, with her countenance 
 
 chilly, 
 Stares Envy — she's lame — who deems skating 
 
 is silly, 
 And declares that to one of her lofty capacity 
 There's something offensive in wit and viva- 
 city : 
 But such is the fate awaits eminence ever — 
 The fairest of buds is the first that we sever. 
 The arrow of hate at the noblest is cast, 
 The pride of the forest falls first in the blast. 
 
 The skaters with spirit their feats are pursuing, 
 Each imprinting his mark, and his neighbor's 
 
 undoing. 
 Some give it the shape of a quiver and dart 
 Some a graceful bouquet, some an epigram 
 
 smart, 
 
158 SUNNY SUE. 
 
 And others the form of a heart that is breaking, 
 
 And others a carriage — that's wondronsly tak- 
 ing— 
 
 And some draw the image of Love in a Cot, 
 
 And some, knowing her best, of a horse on a 
 trot— 
 
 (For what joy to ride forth as the day-star is 
 dawning. 
 
 And cleave, by her side, the fresh air of the 
 morning I 
 
 Or, at twilight, when J^ature is closing her 
 eyes, 
 
 With lingering step watch the stars as they 
 rise !) 
 
 The young skaters endeavor their cause to en- 
 hance 
 
 By spinning with rage through the whirls of 
 the dance — 
 
 They're half right — for most maids, if our eyes 
 are not false. 
 
 Would give pearls for a polka, and worlds for a 
 waltz. 
 
SUNNY SUE. 159 
 
 But, ere half the marks are impressed on the 
 
 ice, 
 
 They dissolve in the sun, and are gone in a 
 
 trice — 
 * -Sf * -x- ^ * * 
 
 The skaters, at length, seek the sanctum of 
 
 grace, 
 And, bent to attain it, set oft' on a race. 
 Some strive to secure it by open attack. 
 But, catching a broadside, are forced to turn 
 
 back ; 
 Some fancy the secret in blandishment lies, 
 (Which may tickle the ear, but secures not the 
 
 prize,) 
 And some soar aloft on the wings of their 
 
 muse. 
 But, losing their balance, are quit for a bruise. 
 Some, thinking their glance the whole island 
 
 will shake. 
 Shaking nought but themselves, are bedrenched 
 
 in the lake. 
 
160 SUNNY SUE. 
 
 Thus, eacli with his purpose and each with his 
 
 plan. 
 To the battle-field hies. Let him conquer who 
 
 can. 
 
 * ^ ^ -H- ^ * * 
 
 * * * -X- 4f * * 
 
 The portal of Day on its hinge is revolving, 
 And the mist of the night in his glance is dis- 
 solving. 
 The spirit that dwells in each droplet of dew 
 Awakes to his welcome and smiles in his view — 
 The stars cease their music and speed them 
 
 away. 
 Sinking back in the ether to shun his fierce 
 
 ray— 
 The fairy-queen's glass is consulted in vain, 
 And her wing, if slie tarry, must ever show 
 stain. 
 
 •X- * -x- -x- ^ ^ * 
 
 The fairies are fled, — the birds sing in the trees, 
 And the shepherd's light note floats away on 
 the breeze — 
 
SUNNY BUE. 
 
 161 
 
 The sun seeks the plain, Sunny Sue seeks her 
 friends. 
 
 And from both alike gladly bright sunshine de- 
 scends. 
 
THE NEW-COMEE. 
 
 'TwAs ill the dawning year of sixty, 
 One evening bright and golden, 
 
 With a newly risen planet 
 Our parlors were beholden — 
 
 Snch radiance Gotham never met 
 Through all the ages olden. 
 
 Oh, bright she was, and kind she was. 
 And she was wondrons witty — 
 
 She met her foes with honest lance, 
 Nor showed them any pity : 
 
 Snch tiltings ball-room never saw 
 In days of spermaceti. 
 
THE NEW-COMER. 163 
 
 The little god till then had felt 
 
 His power he was losing ; 
 But when she came, he quick resolved 
 
 An adjutant on choosing ; 
 The little m-chin after that 
 
 Did precious little snoozing. 
 
 From that time forward, oh ! how fast 
 
 The darts and arrows flew ! 
 "No foe but bled — no heart but straight 
 
 Was perforated through ! 
 The Allies caused not half such havoc 
 
 At bloodj Waterloo ! 
 
TO A YOUJ^G LADY WHO PEEFERKED 
 LITTLE MEIST. 
 
 One night, at Maillard's cream saloon, 
 
 As I was eating jelly, 
 I canglit a glimpse, across mj spoon, 
 
 Of that gay witcli. Miss Nelly. 
 
 Down dro]3ped my spoon, iij) went my glass — 
 
 My teeth began to chatter ; 
 And, like big hailstones on the grass, 
 
 Kept up a steady patter. 
 
 I cast her a long, a killing look — 
 A look of adoration ; 
 
TO A LADY WHO PREFEEEED LITTLE MEN. 165 
 
 And as I gazed, my heartstrings shook— 
 A sliake of captivatioc. 
 
 I changed my seat, drew near the spot 
 "Where her fair lips were chatting. 
 
 And heard her say— ('twas such a shock 
 My tears bedewed the matting) : 
 
 Il^one but small men could hope to win 
 Her heart and hand's possession — 
 
 The news went through me like a pin, 
 And left a grim impression. 
 
 I dashed up to the looking-glass 
 And eyed my own extensions — 
 
 I found I was, alas ! alas ! 
 Above a dwarf's dimensions. 
 
 "Wlien I reached home, to drown the blues, 
 
 I drank a quart of porter — 
 And then, by changing boots for shoes, 
 
 I tried to make me shorter. 
 
166 TO A LADY WHO PREFERRED LITTLE MEN. 
 
 For ^ve long days and six long nights 
 
 I lay in brown reflection — 
 At length a thought put all to rights : 
 
 I thought of genuflexion. 
 
 And now. Miss l^elly, when we meet 
 You'll find me ever kneeling ; 
 
 May I find you, ere I retreat, 
 A maid of grateful feeling. 
 
LINES SENT WITH A KOSE. 
 
 Once, on a mellow summer's night, 
 
 When every flower was drinking dew, 
 And clouds ran sporting soft and light, 
 
 Along the brightly twinkling blue, 
 It chanced that Flora (who all day 
 
 Had dallied with the winds at play. 
 And, when night fell, had sipped away 
 
 Fresh dewdrops with the culprit fay), 
 It chanced that Flora's eyes, so blue. 
 
 Ere half through heaven the moon had rose, 
 With slumber sweet oj)pressed grew. 
 
 And sank to rest in calm repose. 
 
168 LINES SENT WITH A EOSE. 
 
 Forgetting all the world contains 
 In happy dreams of fairy land, 
 
 And leaving all her bright domains, 
 "Without a single guardian hand. 
 
 Thus lost in sleep did Flora lay 
 
 Till high in air the lark had soared ; 
 Then, waking in the morning ray. 
 
 She tripped along the dewy sward. 
 And missed ere long, as round she gazed. 
 
 The object of her tenderest care, 
 And wept to see, chagrined, amazed. 
 
 The queen of flowers was absent there. 
 She heaved a sigh — but sighed in vain — 
 
 The rose was gone ! and none could tell, 
 If e'er her eyes should meet again 
 
 Those fragrant leaves she loved so well. 
 
 The gods, it seemed, had viewed with envy 
 The favor to the rose displayed. 
 
 And, yielding to a jealous frensy, 
 To town exiled her — so 'tis said — 
 
LINES SENT WITH A ROSE. 169 
 
 "Where J in a new and brighter form, 
 A form where all the graces dwell, 
 
 Which Cupid's torch could never warm, 
 She's known as sweet and graceful E"ell. 
 
 But this to Flore was hidden quite, 
 
 "Who still, in sorrow, sought her rose 
 "^Mid e^en the wall-flowers of the night, 
 
 Yet found no solace to her woes ; 
 Till once, o'ercome by sorrow's weight, 
 
 She sent this rose of simple hue. 
 To learn of man her sister's fate. 
 
 And so 1 send her home to you. 
 8 
 
THE BKOWN UMBKELLA. 
 
 {TJie following lines were toritteoi when the author was not yet of 
 age^ to commemorate the settlement of a misunderstanding, 
 which loas brought about by tendering the use of his umbrella 
 in a shower.) 
 
 The gaslight flashed on glance and glove — 
 
 It seemed a dazzlmg dream — 
 The beaux and belles were making love, 
 
 The matrons eating cream. 
 The elders over quails and hocks, 
 Were busy talking cash and stocks. 
 While buoyant hearts, and heels elastic, 
 Went whirling through the '' light fantastic," 
 And all for once forgot their troubles. 
 And felt for ouce as light as bubbles. 
 
THE BROWN UMBRELLA. 171 
 
 A single guest all lonely sat 
 
 And watched liis Cinderella, 
 'Twas Bella lie was peeping at, 
 
 (She of the famed umbrella.) 
 With earnest gaze, and steady glass, 
 He eyed her steps at every pass. 
 And every time that sprightly tripper, 
 Sent peeping forth her minim slipper. 
 His heart, at moments fond of napping, 
 Would start at once a lively tapping. 
 
 Being that night of silent mood. 
 
 And full of sad reflection, 
 He tarried long where then he stood, 
 
 And took to retrospection. 
 His heart flew back to schoolboy times 
 
 (Ere first he dreamed of coats and hats, 
 When timid Belle thought smiles were crimes, 
 
 And wore her hair in Kenwig plaits), 
 And called to mind that evening fair. 
 
 Which yet in memory gayly lingers. 
 
172 THE BRowisr u:mbeella. 
 
 When, bending over Bella's chair, 
 
 He pulled her Kenwigs with his fingers. 
 
 With fondness, too, his heart retraced 
 
 Another day of blessing ; — • 
 This time the Kenwigs were replaced 
 
 By Martelle's fancy dressing. 
 Miss Bella then had just completed 
 
 Her course of education. 
 And scarce begun, as all repeated, 
 
 Her reign of captivation. 
 Full sweet she was, and gentle too, 
 
 But not as sweet as now, 
 For now, she wins at foremost view. 
 
 Just after that cold bow. 
 'Twas Emma gave that party small, 
 
 'Twas she reintroduced me, 
 But Belle to choose amid them all 
 
 1 don't know what induced me. 
 It was, perhaps, her pretty face, 
 
 Perchance her pleasing manner, 
 
THE BROW]^- UMBRELLA. 173 
 
 Or may be 'twas her winning grace, 
 
 Perhaps a hint from Anna ; 
 It may have been her soft blue eye, 
 
 Perhaps I was not questioned— 
 Perchance I wished my chance to try, 
 
 Perhaps I was predestined ; 
 Put whether Fate or Emma led, 
 
 'Twas bliss she heaped upon my head. 
 
 With curly pate politely bent, 
 
 And cheeks of deep vermilion, 
 To Bella dear I straightway went, 
 
 And asked a brief cotillon ; 
 'Twas easier then, than now, to find 
 
 Such golden opportunity, 
 For, then, the charms in Belle combined 
 
 Lay hid to the community. 
 
 I must have seemed of depth untold, 
 To that best of Eve's fair daughters, 
 
 If one can trust the adage old. 
 On the depth of stilly waters. 
 
174 THE BEOWN UMBRELLA. 
 
 For, 'gainst our teeth our sliy lips slept, 
 
 With courage fast a-sinking, 
 But, " like the owl, though still, we kept 
 
 A divil of a thinking." 
 Yet, in that quiet interview, 
 
 "Which in all my memories mixes, 
 She still was mild, her eyes still blue. 
 
 And her kids were number " sixes." 
 My feelings, too, were new — 
 What, dear, then, could I do ? 
 
 The dream went on — that selfsame dream. 
 That's been so long advancing — 
 
 Though not to me did it so seem, 
 lor near me Belle was dancing. 
 
 Long years rolled by — (we left, you know, 
 Miss Bella, meek and hearty, 
 
 A sweet young miss, in quite a glow, 
 A-blushing at a party) ; 
 
 Long years rolled by — the world grew wise, 
 And Bella rose to glory. 
 
THE BEOWN TOIBEELLA. 175 
 
 And all such homage paid lier eyes 
 
 As shines not, save in story. 
 To sweetest charms had Bella grown, 
 
 To charms which move to gladness, 
 Till, when by time's long test they're known, 
 
 Tliey drive ns stark to madness. 
 
 The vision sped — and memory yearned 
 
 To later scenes of pleasure — 
 (Meanwhile my glass to Belle still turned 
 
 And scanned her eveiy measure). 
 And every scene that filled the dream, 
 
 Belle lit up with her glances — 
 Like some winding moonlit stream 
 
 Which through the foliage dances 
 And sheds upon surroimding night 
 
 A bright, though broken gleaming, 
 Now sparkling bright, now lost to sight, 
 
 And now all silver seeming. 
 
 For, oft through life have we two met. 
 And oft has Bella pleased me, 
 
1Y6 THE BEOWN U3.II5EELLA. 
 
 And, if all the truth innst here be set, 
 
 Too often has she teased me. 
 We've met at Saratoga's Spring, 
 
 "We've met on board a steamer. 
 We've met where gay Italians sing, 
 
 (There's one a " perfect screamer,") 
 We've met amid the social throng, 
 
 'Mid haunts of giddy fashion. 
 And thus it is I've dashed along 
 
 The tender road to passion. 
 But, better yet, we two have met. 
 
 And here my heart grows mellow, 
 We two have met — when all was wet — 
 We two have met — ah, sweetly met ! — 
 Beneath a brown umbrella ; 
 Beneath, 
 Beneath, 
 Beneath a brown umbrella ; 
 A brown. 
 Snuff-brown, 
 A cotton, brown umbrella ! 
 
THE BKOWN UMBRELLA. 177 
 
 Ding, dong, ding ! from garret to the cellar ! 
 Ding, dong, ding ! God bless tliat brown 
 ■Qmbrella ! 
 
 Dear Belle, these flowers which here I send, 
 
 These little fragrant flowers. 
 Are proof I'm still a true old friend, 
 
 "Who tm-ns to friendship's bowers, 
 As birds once turned to these same leaves 
 
 To revel in their sweetness. 
 And found that fragrance all outlives 
 
 "Whilst beauty is but fleetness. 
 
 And, Belle, these flowers also teach 
 
 Their humble word of moral 
 To what is now within their reach — 
 
 To your tempting lips of coral : 
 That, as their leaves sweet fragrance send 
 
 Beyond their circle lowly. 
 So may your smiles to absence lend 
 
 Contentment bright and holy. 
 
178 THE BROWIS- UMBRELLA. 
 
 Then, wear tliein oft, and let them fall 
 
 As on that day I oft recall 
 
 With feelings warm and mellow, 
 The drops of wet, in sparkling jet, 
 Fell when we met, so sweetly met, 
 Beneath that brown umbrella ; 
 Beneath, 
 Beneath, 
 Beneath that brown nmbrella ; 
 That brown. 
 Deep brown. 
 That cotton, brown nmbrella ; 
 Ding, dong, ding ! from garret to the cellar ! 
 Ding, dong, ding ! God bless that brown 
 umbrella ! 
 
BELLA. 
 
 ANOTHER REMINISCENCE OF BOYISH DAYS. 
 
 I MIGHT as well, before I go, 
 Add here a brief revealing 
 
 Of bygone times, and, passing, show 
 A page of bygone feeling. 
 
 I used to think of Belle — and Belle — 
 From snnrise to its setting ; 
 
 And when I heard the midnight bell, 
 Oft, oft it found me fretting. 
 
 I could not hear a pretty tune, 
 Could scent no fragrant flower. 
 
 But Bella's image wakened soon. 
 And ruled me for the hour. 
 
180 BELLA. 
 
 I never saw a bird of grace 
 "With gentle wing advancing, 
 
 But Bella's image still I'd trace, 
 Still saw her liglitly dancing. 
 
 I never knew my soul so dark, 
 But Bella's smile, so cheery, 
 
 Could light it, like a firefly's spark 
 In woodland dim and dreary. 
 
 But oft I've known my buoyant heart, 
 Bent down to heavy sorrow, 
 
 When Belle has bid her smiles depart. 
 And darkened thus the morrow. 
 
 I used to seek her, will or nill, 
 As moths will seek a taper, 
 
 And watch her steps, as children will 
 The sparks of burnt-out paper. 
 
 And when I sought the festive hall. 
 Where all was gay confusion. 
 
BELLA. 181 
 
 On Bella first mj glance would fall, 
 With lover's fond illusion. 
 
 The same was true of crowded street, 
 
 And house of holy praying — 
 Or any place where hearts may beat, 
 
 Or eye-glass go a-straying. 
 
 And if, at times, I idly dreamed 
 Youth's favored dream of glory. 
 
 And strung my soul to hopes I deemed, 
 Mature<^, might live in story, 
 
 'Twas that I hoped to make her name 
 
 As dear to future ages. 
 As once it was to him, whose flame 
 
 'Now lights but memory's pages. 
 
A MIDSUMMEE FETE. 
 
 Enchantment spreads lier silken sail — 
 And Joy and Pleasure speed the gale — 
 Youth, Grace, and Beauty are the crew. 
 And Woodland Hall the port in view. 
 
 Many a maid, within her bower. 
 Impatient waits the wished-for hour — 
 And many a youth, of fretful heel, 
 With joy disdains his tardy meal. 
 Killing the hours, so slow advancing, 
 By hunnning airs that stir to dancing. 
 
A MIDSUM^IER FETE. 183 
 
 Tlie hour is come ! A joyous bound 
 Through countless hearts speeds swiftly round ! 
 And, far and wide, from street and square. 
 From palace, club, and jporte cochlre^ 
 The stream pours forth, with ceaseless swell, 
 Of matron, dancer, beau and belle — 
 All gayly bent toward Pleasure's spring, 
 To add fresh plumes to Time's dull w^ing — 
 Or, once more, with exultant soul. 
 To quaff Excitement's rosy bowl. 
 
 Through rolling dust tlie chargers dash — 
 Their fiery hoofs with lightning flash — 
 The air is brisk with snapping whips 
 And bursts of joy from cheering lips. 
 For miles the dust beclouds the plain. 
 Through which gleams out the wheeling train. 
 As glimpses of a mist-clad stream 
 Eejoice the eye 'neath morn's glad beam. 
 
 The pavement 's passed — the road is won — 
 And westering rolls the scorching sun — 
 
184 A MIDSUMJMER FETE. 
 
 The breath of roses scents the gale, 
 As on we dash through Bloomingdale. 
 ISTow Burnham's gone — now Stryker's Bay- 
 And now the Abbey 's far away ! 
 
 Soon Woodland Hall shall greet the sight ! 
 Now, lo! 'tis there — on yon soft height, 
 Hearing 'mid trees its stately pile, 
 "Wearing throughout a festive smile. 
 From porch, piazza, casement, walk, 
 Comes joyous look — and merry talk— 
 And wheresoe'er the eye can stray, 
 It meets with nought but faces gay. 
 Illumed with smiles, as if to say, 
 Where Friendship claims a holiday. 
 There Care and Grief shall lose their way. 
 
 Each window seen behind the trees. 
 Each curtain stirred by evening's breeze, 
 Reveals some fair one downward glancing 
 Upon the cortege slow advancing. 
 
A MIDSUMMEE FETE. 185 
 
 A striking scene to view tlie train 
 Thus rolling on in endless chain, 
 And mark the varying colors glad 
 Of lovely maidens brightly clad, 
 Contrastmg with smTounding green — 
 More like a dream than earthly scene ! 
 
 One after one the long array 
 Of coaches come — and briefly stay, 
 "While portly Brown — with FalstafF-swell 
 And easy mien — salutes each belle. 
 Unclasps the door, and gives his hand — 
 Waving it like a sorcerer's wand — 
 So sure he is where Brown is found. 
 To Fashion's eye is hallowed ground. 
 
 O glorious Brown ! thou medley strange 
 Of church-yard, ball-room, saint and sinner, 
 
 Flying by morn through Fashion's range. 
 And burying mortals after dinner — 
 
 Walking one day with invitations. 
 
 Passing the next at consecrations. 
 
186 A MIDSUMMER FETE. 
 
 Tossing the sod at eve on coffins, 
 "VYitli one hand drying tears of orphans, 
 And one nnclasping ball-room carriage. 
 Or cutting plum-cake up for marriage — 
 Dusting by day the pew and missal — 
 Sounding by night the ball-room whistle — 
 Admitted free through Fashion's wicket, 
 And skilled at psalms, at punch, and cricket ; 
 Helate by what mysterious art 
 Thou canst so well fulfil thy part — 
 And how, thus sorely taxed each week, 
 Thou look'st so happy, fat, and sleek. 
 Hepeat to us the prittle-prattle. 
 About thine ears must daily rattle, 
 "When marching round through Fashion's quar- 
 ters, 
 Thou'rt questioned oft by Eve's fair daughters. 
 And tell us why, seek up, seek down, 
 O'er all the earth, there's but one Brown — 
 One man alone whom Church and State 
 At once consent to consecrate, 
 
A MIDSUMMEE FETE. 18Y 
 
 With license boundless to combine 
 The pew, the ball, the hearse, the wine ! 
 
 II. 
 
 The gnests are gathered in the Hall, 
 
 And light and gay the footsteps fall — 
 
 And gracious welcome, warm and free. 
 
 The hostess yields, with courtesy, 
 
 Assisted in her pleasant duties 
 
 By a choice band of graceful beauties. 
 
 All, young and old, go moving round 
 
 With eyes that flash, and hearts that bound — 
 
 !N"ow greeting friends, now looking on, 
 
 E"ow gazing down the gravel lawn, 
 
 Or glancing at the works of art 
 
 Which from the classic canvas start ; 
 
 Or, oftener still, advancing out. 
 
 With graceful scarfs their forms about, 
 
 To join a band of spirits free. 
 
 Dancing with joyous revelry. 
 
 On platform 'neath a stalwart tree 
 
188 A aODSIIMMER FETE. 
 
 Far down the liil], where erst the w^ave, 
 Ere steam was known, the banks would lave. 
 
 The shadows lengthen through the glades — 
 
 The sun hangs o'er the Palisades, 
 
 And gilds the Hudson's placid rills 
 
 As slow they kiss the "Western hills. 
 
 A sparkling brook glides through the vale, 
 
 Down which sweet rose-leaves lightly sail — 
 
 By breezes soft the trees are stirred, 
 
 And music's notes of joy are heard. 
 
 The damsels, clad in colors bright. 
 
 In pink, canary, blue, and white. 
 
 With cavaliers in black bedight, 
 
 Impart a glory to the scene 
 
 Not e'en surpassed on fairy-green. 
 
 Some ramble through the dusky nooks, 
 
 Some roam along the winding brooks, 
 
 Some, on a log beneath the willows. 
 
 Waft sighing speeches o'er the billows ; 
 
 And others muse on twilight's hour. 
 
 Or search the woods for forest flower, 
 
A MIDSTJMMEB FETE. 189 
 
 Whilst many yield with, hearty glee 
 To syren Polka's witchery. 
 
 But hark ! a sound comes o'er the breeze ! 
 
 A hissing strange beyond the trees ! 
 
 Behold ! bright sparks the shade have broke ! 
 
 A bell ! a whistle ! and black smoke ! 
 
 See ! see ! it comes ! 'tis there ! fast — fast ! 
 
 Beware ! what dust ! again ! 'tis past ! 
 
 Aye, past ! past, like a shooting star, 
 
 That Hudson River railroad car ! 
 
 The clatter 's still. And night's quick fall 
 
 Bids each regain the lighted Hall ! 
 
 An hour has passed — and myriad rays 
 Enrobe the Hall in high-noon's blaze — 
 Each object round shows winter's joy 
 Enlisted in mid-June's employ ; 
 The punch — the waltz — and gay flirtation — 
 With fruit — and stroll — and meditation — 
 All blended in harmonious shape, 
 Like blue and purple on the grape. 
 
190 A LnDSuivrMER fete. 
 
 Thus moiintains in tlie tropic zone, 
 Of every clime the produce own, 
 And varied sweets elsewhere unknovv-n, 
 Are there, in union glorious shown. 
 
 The breeze blows gently from the river, 
 And streamers graceful gayly quiver 
 In boudoirs dim, where, mingled, caper 
 The silver moon and golden taper ; 
 'No ringlets rich the wind disturbs. 
 For, fashion now the locks so curbs 
 A la Chinoise, so draws them Jtight, 
 That zephyrs there in vain alight. 
 With hand reclining on the sill, 
 With eyes uplift, lips dreamy still, 
 A lovely maid attentive heeds 
 A youth recall forgotten deeds. 
 And both together lightly float 
 Down Memory's tide to days remote, 
 Eeviving many a careless hour 
 Made golden by Flirtation's power. 
 
A IknDSUMMER FETE. 191 
 
 Pleasing she is — of cheerful soul — 
 And sunshine yields to her control — 
 If jou would know the simple grace 
 Of Knickerbocker's ancient race, 
 Its sterling virtues you will find 
 In this fair damsel all combined. 
 
 Yet how unlike this maid serene 
 Is she who joins in the gay scene, 
 With the pure buoyancy of heart 
 Which proves life's race is at the start ; 
 That on Youth's garden never yet 
 Illusion's ray hath seemed to set, 
 E'or Sorrow's cloud been known to mar 
 The lustre fresh of yonng Hope's star. 
 The living h'ght of her dark eye 
 Recalls Yirginia's natal sky, 
 And the quick flashes that oft stray. 
 In sparkling mischief, full of play, 
 And m.ingle with her smile's soft ray, 
 Denote her lineage erewhile 
 Was native to the Emerald Isle — 
 
192 A MroSIJMMER FETE. 
 
 A martyr race whom cruel laws 
 Made exiles in their country's cause. 
 
 A host of youths, with earnest glance, 
 Her steps are marking in the dance, 
 And scarcely has she paused to rest 
 But quick each hastens to be blest, 
 And craves, with fervor in his style, 
 A waltz — a polka — or a smile — 
 Or, bolder still, entreats the boon 
 Of a lone stroll beneath the moon — 
 But she, regardless of their sighs, 
 With an arch sparkle in her eyes. 
 Disturbs each gallant's wished-for plan, 
 And showeth not the favored man. 
 But gives the polka to the talker. 
 Bestows the smile upon the walker. 
 And sends the lover of the moon 
 To get some ices and a spoon. 
 Yet, with such grace each act she decks. 
 She doubly wins where most would vex. 
 
A MIDSUMMER FETE. I93 
 
 Such power do wit and beauty claim 
 When kindness serves them for a frame ! 
 Oh ! dearer far one moment passed 
 
 Within her brilliant way, 
 Than half a lifetime idly cast 
 
 With souls of lesser sway. 
 
 Beside her whirls a noted belle, 
 Whose moist blue eye the soft gazeUe 
 
 In vain would seek to rival-^ 
 Yet ere we'd front that bright eye's spell 
 
 We'd face a loaded rifle. 
 Oft, often on our toiling way, 
 IS^ot far from Mblo's Garden gay. 
 We've marked her window in Broadway, 
 And grateful felt that face so fair 
 To passers-by a smile would spare. 
 
 A step beyond, two sisters see, 
 The flower-the pride-of Grammercy ; 
 One, lovely, gentle, sweet and fair, 
 A star-beam—brilliant without glare-^ 
 
194 A MroSUMMER FETE. 
 
 Fixed twinkler in Kefinement's sky, 
 And charming both to heart and eye. 
 The other, sparkling, brilliant, beaming. 
 Like fountain jet in sunlight gleaming — 
 Fluent of speech, with freshness teeming. 
 Fit subject for a poet's dreaming. 
 
 'Mid belles so gifted, such as shine 
 To-night around us, we must pine ; 
 For, vain indeed it were to name 
 
 One half the varied beauties 
 Whose grace and charms possess a claim 
 
 Upon a poet's duties. 
 A few more stars we yet submit, 
 
 And then pursue our story, 
 Regretting space does not admit 
 
 Of other lights the glory. 
 
 How faultless in each striking grace, 
 In form, in manners, and in face. 
 Appears yon damsel waltzing there. 
 In pink bedecked — surpassing fair ; 
 
A MIDSUMMER FETE. 195 
 
 The loveliest form our city knows, 
 This rose-bud dawning into rose. 
 
 Our eye next notes two sisters sweet, 
 Whom far apart we rarely meet — 
 Like streamlets springing from one lake 
 
 And flowing on together, 
 Both sad when storms around them break. 
 
 Both glad in sunny weather. 
 They yet retain the gracious ways 
 Which marked our mothers' gentler days — 
 That modest suavity of manner 
 Which draws all hearts beneath its banner, 
 And proves how far a mother's tone 
 Like heaven's light around is thrown. 
 Few daughters fair so sure to please 
 Our age may name, compared to these. 
 
 Two more fair sisters next arise — 
 Whose name recalls a patriot wise 
 Of our Old Kevolution. 
 
196 A MIDSUMMER FETE. 
 
 One sister 's pleasing, good, profound, 
 In whom tlie Christian charms abound, • 
 
 In constant execution. 
 The other 's playful, cheerful, gay. 
 
 Accomplished, and quite sprightly — 
 Who, when dull speeches cross her way, 
 
 Will start them up most lightly. 
 
 In sober quiet, round the room, 
 
 The married dames are sitting — 
 These, once so bright, seem now all gloom, 
 
 Their lovely brows half knitting. 
 Not that they pine o'er glory gone 
 Or feel in slightest way forlorn. 
 But thoughts of joys that others miss. 
 
 By leading lives unmated. 
 At times will rise and mar their bliss 
 
 Whilst others seem elated. 
 
 The beaux are waltzing fiercely round 
 Or talking 'gainst the music's sound — 
 
A MIDSUMMER FETE. 197 
 
 Here stands a buxom sportive soul, 
 "Whose eyes eclipse tlie hues of coal, 
 With certain traits from crown to shoe 
 That prove him Dutchman through and 
 
 through ; 
 There's a young merchant, once a man 
 
 Dancing at all the balls, 
 But since in Broad street he began 
 
 More grave his footstep falls. 
 Thus Commerce sternly marks her reign, 
 And Dancing 's banished by " Champagne." 
 
 Kext comes an artist, skilled in acquarel 
 
 And full of lofty promise — 
 And next a beau who deals in mackerel 
 
 And struts it high in commerce. 
 A lawyer next, though young, renowned — 
 
 (I have it on his honor) — 
 Another comes, e'en more profound, 
 
 A rival to O'Connor. 
 The young beau yonder pitching past 
 
 In polka's lightning-fury. 
 
198 A l^nDSUIOIEE FETE. 
 
 Is of the class entitled "fast,^'' 
 Too young to sit on Jury. 
 
 III. 
 
 The waltz has ceased — A moment's pause, 
 That guests may heed Dame Nature's laws, 
 And hasten to a tempting board 
 Borne down by all the times afford. 
 Meanwhile we quit the brilliant scene 
 And wander o'er the moonlit green. 
 
 O moonlight sweet ! so bright yet sad, 
 
 To pensive mood the soul inviting ! 
 Let us to-night at least be glad, 
 
 With cheerful dream our souls delighting I 
 Let us forget thy saddening splendor, 
 
 Eclipsed by Lucy's flashing wit. 
 And let our hearts not wax too tender 
 
 As in her presence charmed we flit, 
 
A MIDSUMMEK FETE. 199 
 
 Attentive to the strains delicious 
 That bubble from her soul capricious ! 
 
 Yet, what a change from lively thought 
 To pensive, this lonely spot hath wrought ! 
 A moment since, and I stood where 
 All was hot haste, and whirl, and glare ! 
 E"ow, quiet reigns. — The air is still — 
 And silence sleeps upon the hill ; 
 The cricket's chirp alone I hear, 
 The moon sails on serene and clear — 
 And her light, through foliage stealing, 
 Forever keeps the dew revealing. 
 A-down the Hudson's silver tide 
 The snowy canvas scarce doth glide. 
 While, like a dream of childhood's days, 
 The Hall behind me pours its rays. 
 With every window blazing brightly 
 And passing shadows flitting lightly. 
 And now and then a broken strain 
 That comes, is lost, and comes again. 
 
200 A MIDSUMMER FETE. 
 
 Thus, oft, in Life's meandering way, 
 We turn from Manhood's chilly ray 
 And lift our eyes, opi3ressed with sadness. 
 On Youth's retreating halls of gladness — 
 Well pleased to catch the fitful strain 
 O'er Memory's chord that sweeps in vain. 
 
 Lo ! hither comes a spirit mild, 
 
 True grace and feeling's favored child ! 
 
 How kindred to her nature soft 
 
 Appear the holy stars aloft — 
 
 And how more native to her mind 
 
 This solitude deep must she find ! 
 
 Ah ! seldom in a life's career 
 
 So high a nature pass we near, 
 
 And rarely may we hope to meet 
 
 Such thoughts encased in grace so sweet. 
 
 Hers is the art to listen well, 
 
 Yet, when she speaks, to weave a spell, 
 
 Yet scarcely might we hope to say 
 
 If mind or heart hold greater sway. 
 
A MIDSUMMER FETE. 201 
 
 Loitering down the moonlit vale 
 
 Like shadows on the Stygian pale. 
 
 See, pensive lovers scattered round, 
 
 And thrill to think 'tis hallowed ground. 
 
 How many a vow to-night is given, 
 
 How many an eye is raised to heaven, 
 
 How many tears of rapture flow. 
 
 Oh ! mortal man may never know ! 
 
 But if young hearts there still exist, 
 
 If Poesy's dream their souls e'er kissed. 
 
 If all the fii'e of holy youth, 
 
 The glow of friendship, love, and truth. 
 
 Be not deep smothered in the dust. 
 
 In this cold age of golden lust. 
 
 Then surely such a night as this, 
 
 When thoughts imbidden yearn for bliss. 
 
 On such a night, when all is fair. 
 
 And woman stands expectant there, 
 
 If hearts do not sweet rapture feel. 
 
 And bid, through looks, that rapture steal, 
 
 9* 
 
202 A MIDSUMMEE FETE. 
 
 Then moonlight, music, soul — is vain, 
 And Love may ne'er revive again. 
 
 lY. 
 
 Around a board of feast and wine, 
 
 A host of youths to mirth incline. 
 
 Pop ! goes the cork, the foam-beads bubble. 
 
 And each one hastes to cool his trouble. 
 
 What clatter strange ! It seems a strife ! 
 
 " A spoon this way ! " " A fork — a knife ! " 
 
 "' Some ice-cream here ! " " Some berries 
 
 there ! " 
 " Whence came that rose ? " " Dear sir, take 
 
 care ! " 
 " You're on my dress ! " " From Mantel's 
 
 garden ! " 
 " No more for me " — " I beg your pardon ! " 
 Meanwhile the feast through youngsters' lips 
 Sails snugly in like floating chips ; 
 And like the busy, prudent ants. 
 They store up vigor for the dance — 
 
A MIDSTJMMEK FETE. 203 
 
 Kesembling, too, the desert's camel, 
 
 For nought they eat theii- movements trammel. 
 
 ISTow, for " The German ! " 'Tis a sound 
 At which each youth starts with a bound ; 
 The chairs are ranged in circle wide, 
 And each belle waits in all her pride. 
 For well she knows from every side 
 The cross-fire of a hundred glances 
 Will mark her steps as round she dances ; 
 The leader draws his magic bow 
 
 And quick the band begins. 
 Each damsel glides off with a beau. 
 
 And gracefully she spins — 
 
 Eevolving, whirling, 
 Spinning, curling. 
 Like wreaths from prized cigar, 
 
204 A MIDSUMMER FETE. 
 
 Or foam upon a billow, 
 Or leaf of silver willow, 
 Or twinkling beam of star. 
 
 In rings, in squares, 
 
 Alone, in pairs. 
 How playfully ye mingle ! 
 
 Your eyes, how bright, 
 
 Your steps, liow light. 
 How blissfully ye jingle ! 
 
 Now in, now out, 
 
 Now wheel about, 
 Now in, around, now back again — 
 
 Now up, now under, 
 
 Now fly asunder. 
 And now awhile your seats regain. 
 
 Now part them all 
 With upraised shawl. 
 And hear the heroes chuckle ! 
 
A MIDSrMMEE FETE. 205 
 
 "Now mark their fingers 
 (See no one lingers), 
 And seize upon a knuckle. 
 
 "Now partners change, 
 
 In bands now range, 
 Now sit upon a chair, 
 
 l!^ow bring a beau. 
 
 Look up, smile " no " — 
 Let all but one despair. 
 
 In rings, in squares, 
 
 Alone, in pairs, 
 ]S"ow once more gayly mingle. 
 
 With eyes as bright, 
 
 And steps as light. 
 As sleigh-bells' sprightly jingle. 
 
 Ho waves at play. 
 Whose snowy spray 
 Gales toss about the ocean, 
 
206 A MIDSUMMEK FETE. 
 
 E'er showed such bright 
 Confused delight 
 As does this dance's motion. 
 
 VI. 
 
 The midnight bell ! Haste, haste — begone ! 
 Gall coachmen up the moonlit lawn — 
 One parting glance at Lucy steal, 
 !N^or let her know the pang we feel — 
 The hostess seek — express delight — 
 And bid to each a sweet good-night. 
 Roll out amid the chariot throng 
 And cast your eye the skies along — 
 "With rapture view the silver cloud 
 Wrapping the moon in fancied shroud. 
 Survey the Hudson's burnished rill. 
 Observe the shadow on the hill. 
 And, as the Hall retreats in night, 
 Let dreams prolong the fete's delight. 
 
A. MIDSUMMER FETE. 207 
 
 Encliantment furls her slackened sail — 
 And Sleep and Memory lull the gale — 
 While Youth and Beauty, lost to view, 
 Bid Woodland Hall — Adieu ! Adieu ! 
 
A YISIOK 
 
 Lines written to a sparkling debutante, whom I had not met 
 since she was a schoolgirl. 
 
 A BRIGHT sky overhead — smiling landscapes 
 around, 
 
 And a stream that went merrily gleaming — 
 A boat far above gliding down with a bound, 
 
 And myself at the bow lightly dreaming. 
 
 !Not the dream of a sleeper — but visions of 
 youth 
 Setting out on a cruise down life's river — 
 And surveying the rocks of the Future, for- 
 sooth, 
 With pleasure, instead of a shiver. 
 
A VISION. 209 
 
 Over all silence reigned. — In the distance I saw, 
 Above the horizon just springing, 
 
 A bird of gaj plum age — obeying Joy's law, 
 And most sweetly and cheerily singing. 
 
 The bird was quite small — and seemed bending 
 her flight 
 To the highest of heaven's blue arches — 
 When the boat turned aside, and concealed 
 from my sight 
 For a while her aerial marches. 
 
 Onward time flew — and the boat had passed 
 o'er 
 A good part of the widening river, 
 When again I looked up — and suspending my 
 oar, 
 Admiration perhaps made me quiver. 
 
 Tlie bird had attained the top arch of the blue, 
 And seemed grown, and more charming than 
 ever. 
 
210 A VISION. 
 
 Her wing was so soft — a celestial hue — 
 And fit the pure ether to sever. 
 
 Her plumage was varied, and brilliantly blent 
 The bright with the softest of shading, 
 
 And her song seemed the whisper of seraphims 
 lent. 
 Mankind from life's cares for dissuading. 
 
 She lingered awhile on a tree near the stream, 
 And swiftly I drew near to view her — 
 
 But I found — not the bird that enlivened my 
 dream. 
 But Miss Jenny, our sparkling undoer. 
 
WEST pomT. 
 
 Oh ! with joy I remember that soft afternoon, 
 When, as eve with its glorious robes gilt the 
 West, 
 And all nature was decked in the freshness of 
 June, 
 Preparing in peace for the Sabbath-day rest, 
 I discovered a coach dashing over the plain, 
 And, raising my glass— for 'twas now waxing 
 late — 
 Took a peep to find out whom the coach might 
 contain, 
 When lo ! it stopped short at the little white 
 gate. 
 
212 WEST POINT. 
 
 And I saw yon alight on a pebble amiss, 
 
 "With yonr eyes so ablaze with its mischievous 
 twinkles, 
 That I thought, if you didn't bring showers of 
 bliss, 
 You would give us at least some agreeable 
 sprinkles. 
 
 Oh ! bright moments, how swiftly ye flew ! 
 And — and don't you remember them too ? 
 
 And with joy I remember those beautiful hills, 
 As I sat by your side while the music was 
 playing. 
 And the river afar, with its glittering rills, 
 And the cheerful, good folks, as they went to 
 church praying ; 
 And the crow that was heard as the music 
 expired. 
 And the silence that followed so solemnly 
 deep, 
 
WEST POINT. 213 
 
 Transporting the spirit with visions inspired, 
 And extending to day the attractions of 
 sleep. 
 
 How I love to go back to those nice little 
 talks 
 "We exchanged at the porch, 'neath the shade 
 of the trees. 
 Which I found ever needful, to shelter my 
 walks, 
 (Though one ev'ning, you know, we were 
 ready to freeze.) 
 
 Oh ! bright moments, how swiftly ye flew ! 
 And — and don't you remember them too ? 
 
 How I love to remember that walk to " Fort 
 Put.," 
 And the lesson I got for my fretful gallant- 
 
214 WEST POINT. 
 
 As I toiled in the sun, with my eyes nearly 
 shut, 
 Save when pausing to gaze on those scenes 
 so enchanting ! 
 How delightully cool were our seats on the 
 grass. 
 And what pleasure it gave you to scoop me 
 a grave 
 "With a chip for a spade ; while I lent you my 
 glass 
 To study Crow's Nest, and look down on the 
 wave ! 
 And at eve, what a long, charming ramble we 
 took 
 Through those dim, shady walks sloping 
 down to the shore. 
 Sitting down, now and then, in some fairy- 
 queen's nook, 
 With the world only known by the cannon's 
 loud roar ! 
 
WEST POINT. 215 
 
 With what rapture, at night, when the music 
 was heard, 
 Did we watch for the moon, as she mounted 
 Crow's E"est, 
 And how oft did you chide when I spoke the 
 least word ! 
 But with you by my side — 'Was not talking 
 far best ? 
 
 Oh ! bright moments, how swiftly ye flew ! 
 And — and don't you remember them too 'i 
 
A ISTEWPOKT BELLE. 
 
 " Theee's a hop at the Ocean — let's join it," I 
 said — 
 
 The young ladies at once grew ecstatic ; 
 Soon a chap'ron is seized on her way up to bed — 
 
 Her room is not far — from the attic. 
 
 " Bellevue coach " is engaged — the gay throng 
 tumble in — 
 We depart with a terrible clatter — 
 " I've forgotten my gloves ! " " I'd give worlds 
 for a pin ! " 
 Such giggling ! such shouts I " What's the 
 matter ? " 
 
A NEWPORT BELLE. 217 
 
 The ball-room flies open — the tickets are 
 bought — 
 The price, I believe, three half dollars — 
 The guests — oh, how few — scarce a score — ^we 
 are caught ! 
 The girls frown, the beaux pull their shirt- 
 collars. 
 
 The music strikes up, and away my friends fly, 
 
 In desperate hope to be merry ; 
 I'm left quite alone, at a loss what to try, 
 
 Like a lover too late at a ferry. 
 
 I am sad ; I am lonely ; oh, bitter suspense ! 
 
 The blue devils are perched on my fancy ; 
 
 Says then Mrs. S. : " Mister M , Miss 
 
 Hortense ! " 
 
 Blue devils, adieu ! — ^ISTecromancy ! 
 
 Bright rolling blue eyes — a deep dimple — a 
 smile — 
 Irresistible showers of sallies — 
 10 
 
218 A NEWPOET BELLE. 
 
 Her glance flying round at the beanx all the 
 while — 
 Her aim a ten-strike in Love's alleys. 
 
 I am charmed — I am piqued — then provoked 
 — ^then amused ; — 
 'Tis a bath in colloquial breakers ; 
 I go home — try to rest — close my lids — sleep 's 
 refused — 
 Her eyes make my own -w'K^Q-awakers. 
 
 Next morn I array me in neat neglige — 
 
 Go over to pay her a visit — 
 Oh, the fair morning-glory ! what laisser-aller ! 
 
 This isn't Hortensia — is it ? 
 
 " Dear me ! I'm so sleepy ! been bathing ! "— 
 She sleeps. 
 I rise — through the door am departing, 
 When out through her lids a provoking smile 
 peeps, 
 And up to her feet she comes starting. 
 
A NEWPORT BELLE. 219 
 
 Some nonsense — some reading — some music 
 
 some love — 
 Barrett Browning — French singing— light 
 laughter — 
 In fact, we do many wise things much above 
 Wliat's been done long before and long after. 
 
 And oft, in this madcap, eccentrical way, 
 We wheedle away the fleet morning — 
 
 She varying ever— sad, glad, moping, gay— 
 Always graceful, even when — yawning. 
 
 At length I go over to bid her good-by — 
 Feel concerned lest the news may derange 
 her, 
 Am sure she will weep— am afraid she may 
 die — 
 Find her — setting her cajpfor a stranger ! 
 
YE WHO PRAY, OH, PEAY FOE ME! 
 
 Translated from Millevoye^ who died in the winter-time, of 
 consumption, while yet in the prime of life, a week after 
 composing this simple but touching ballad. 
 
 In tlie hamlet, hushed and lonely, 
 
 Musing sadly o'er his state. 
 Lingered one, in life's prime only, 
 Early doomed to meet his fate. 
 Oft he told the peasants there : 
 Kind ones ! 'tis the hour of prayer. 
 And the bells toll mournfully — 
 Ye who pray, oh, pray for me ! 
 
PKAY FOK ME ! 221 
 
 But when you find the cascade hid 
 
 Bj the foliage of yon tree, 
 You may say : Poor invalid, 
 
 From his trials he is free ! 
 Visit then again this shore, 
 Singing plaintiye burdens o'er, 
 And when the bells toll mournfully. 
 Ye who pray, oh, pray for me ! 
 
 'Gainst man's hate and envy's bane, 
 I've set time and my sad fate ; 
 
 Of a life undimmed by stain, 
 The end approaches, and I wait ! 
 
 Brief hath been on earth my stay ! 
 
 Swept off in my lifetime's May ! 
 
 Still I bow to fate's decree — 
 
 Ye who pray, oh, pray for me ! 
 
 Dear companion, blessed wife, 
 Whom I honored, loved alway, 
 
 I had offered thee my life, 
 Yet it hardly lasts a day ! 
 
222 PEAT FOE ME ! 
 
 Give her, kind ones, then, your care, 
 When she comes at time of prayer, 
 Also saying monrnfully : 
 Ye who pray, oh, pray for me ! 
 
TIME AND LOVE. 
 
 TRANSLATED PROM THE FRENCH. 
 
 A HOARY man, Old Time by name, 
 
 Who all his days a-roaming spent, 
 Beside a stream did thus exclaim : 
 " Oh, pity me, by old age bent ! 
 Will no one heed my mournful cries. 
 Will not some hand the oar that plies 
 Lend aid to one who 's old, alas ! 
 And kindly now make dull Time pass ? " 
 
 Some maidens merry on the shore 
 Took pity on his tears fast flowing, 
 
224 TIME AND LOVE. 
 
 And wished to ferry old Time o'er 
 
 In a light skiff young Love was rowing. 
 But one of them, by far more wise, 
 Repeated oft, amid her sighs : 
 " Ah ! many a maid 's been wrecked, alas ! 
 In seeking thus to make Time pass ! " 
 
 But Love, unheeding, plies his oar 
 
 And pauses where the old man 's standing ; 
 He offers Time to bear him o'er, 
 
 And now they seek the adverse landing. 
 With rapid stroke Love bounds along, 
 Ever repeating in his song : 
 " You see, you see, my prudish lass. 
 How swiftly Love can make Time jpass ! " 
 
 But sudden Love a-weary grows — 
 This ever was his greatest fault — 
 
 And, in his stead, old Time now rows, 
 Exclaiming : " What ! so soon you halt ! 
 
TIME AND LOVE. 225 
 
 Poor child ! how fast you fade away ! 
 You slumber — while I sing the lay 
 That wisdom loves to teach : Alas ! 
 Time '« ever sure to make Love jpass ! " 
 
 10* 
 
«I LOVE THEE NOW NO MOKE!" 
 
 TBANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH. 
 
 Two days ago, I loved thee yet — 
 
 A band my eyes did fetter — 
 But, Lucy, thou too false coquette. 
 
 To-day I know thee better ! 
 I may not yet forget at will. 
 
 My feelings may flow o'er, 
 I may, alas ! regret thee still — 
 
 But I love thee now no more ! 
 
 In thy sweet smile, what lovely charms ! 
 What grace in every motion ! 
 
" I LOVE THEE NOW NO MOKE ! " 227 
 
 To thee e'en stoics render arms, 
 
 And sigh with fond devotion. 
 Oh, would that my new friend combined 
 
 Thy grace with her mind's lore ! 
 For, thou art charming still, I find, 
 
 Though I love thee now no more ! 
 
 "No doubt another in my place 
 
 Already 's marked by thee ; 
 Inveigled by thy bloom and grace, 
 
 He'll be deceived, like me. 
 And spite of that, I envy him. 
 
 Though sorrow lies in store — 
 I'm jealous still of thy least whim. 
 
 Though I love thee now no more. 
 
 Should we, in some romantic nook, 
 
 E'er meet in sad reflection, 
 I might reopen memory's book 
 
 And tell my old aflfiSction. 
 
228 " I LOVE THEE NOW NO MOEE ! " 
 
 Then, roused by such propinquity, 
 My feelings might run o'er. 
 
 And all my love rush back to thee — 
 But I love thee now no more ! 
 
« O BREEZE OF THE WEST ! " 
 
 TBANSLATED FBOM THE SPANISK. 
 
 While my love is asleep, 
 Gentle breeze of the West, 
 
 Kiss softly her brow, 
 Disturb not her rest. 
 
 Breathe mildly, O breeze, 
 O'er her slumbers so light ! 
 
 Let the brush of thy wing 
 l^ot be heard in its flight ! 
 
 And when stealing in peace 
 Through the maze of her curls, 
 
230 
 
 Waft to me her sweet breath 
 
 Culled from coral and pearls. 
 O Breeze of the West, 
 Disturb not her rest ! 
 
 Beware not to break 
 
 Her slumber's light chain, 
 For, I fear lest her glance 
 
 Break my heart with sweet pain. 
 O zephyr of grace. 
 
 What bliss is thy share, 
 Who thus canst caress 
 
 A damsel so fair ! 
 O Breeze of the West, 
 Disturb not her rest ! 
 
NEW YEAE'S DAY. 
 
 A PAEODY ON MR. C. C. MOOEE'S " CHRISTMAS EVE." 
 
 Written for a young lady just entering her " teens.''^ 
 
 'TwAs the morning of ISTew Year's, when all 
 
 through my heart 
 [N'ot a lady was stirring — ^not even a dart ; 
 My onyx was pinned to my necktie with 
 
 care, 
 In hopes the yonng ladies would give it a 
 
 stare ; 
 My fingers were nestled all snug in my gloves, 
 While visions of pretty girls spoke of sweet 
 
 loves, 
 
232 
 
 And John in his carriage, and I on my feet, 
 Where just taking our start for a long 'New 
 
 Year's treat. 
 When 'neath my suspender there rose such a 
 
 clatter. 
 It struck me at once a heartache was the 
 
 matter, 
 So, I quick at an omnibus flew like a flash, 
 Knocked a street-sweeper down, and fell in with 
 
 a crash ; 
 The sun on the folds of my glossy black vest 
 Shed lustre around on the face of each guest — 
 Soon, what to my wondering eyes should 
 
 appear. 
 But a snug drawing-room, and two easy chairs 
 
 near. 
 With a sweet, pretty damsel, so like "Sister 
 
 Harry," 
 I knew in a moment 'twas dear little Carrie. 
 More rapid than snowflakes her lovers they 
 
 came, 
 
233 
 
 And she curt'sied, and flirted, and called them 
 
 by name : 
 " iNow, Jemmy ! Now, Josy ! Now, Johnny ! 
 
 Now, Jenkins ! 
 On, Peter ! On, Pumpkins ! On, P. Double- 
 
 enkins ! 
 To the bowl Ml of punch ! Near the niche in 
 
 the wall ! 
 Now, sip away ! sip away ! sip away all ! " 
 As schoolgirls, that before a wild, crazy man 
 
 %, 
 
 When they meet a policeman, contentedly sigh. 
 So off to the punch-bowl her lovers they flew, 
 With their hearts full of joy, and the dear 
 
 Carrie, too ; 
 And then, .in a twinkling, I heard round the 
 
 bowl 
 The laughing and sporting of each happy soul. 
 As I reached the back room, and was turning 
 
 around. 
 In came Carrie dear, with a smile and a 
 
 bound. 
 
234 NEW year's day. 
 
 She was dressed all in pink, from her shoe to 
 
 her shawl, 
 And her hoops they stood out like the dome of 
 
 St. Paul ; 
 The picture of joy lay ensconced on her face, 
 And she looked like an angel, all smiling with 
 
 grace. 
 Her eyes — how they twinkled ! Her dimples — • 
 
 how merry ! 
 Her cheeks were like roses ; her lip like a 
 
 cherry ! 
 Her sweet, pretty mouth was drawn up like a 
 
 bow, 
 And the pearl of her teeth was as white as the 
 
 snow; 
 The tip of her fan she held tight in her teeth. 
 And her joy it encircled her face like a 
 
 wreath. 
 She had a small foot, and a little, round body, 
 That shook, when she laughed, like a bowl full 
 
 of toddy ; 
 
ifEW year's day. 235 
 
 She was meiTy and smart — a right lively dear 
 
 elf, 
 And I loved when I saw her, in spite of myself. 
 A tear in my eye, and a shake in my glove, 
 Soon gave me to know I was deeply in love ; 
 I drank not a drop, but went straight to my 
 
 work — 
 And talked two whole minutes — then turned 
 
 with a jerk. 
 And telling dear Carrie she looked like a rose, 
 And giving a nod, brought my joy to a close. 
 I sprang to a hack, dried the tears in my 
 
 lashes. 
 And away I then flew to the house of Miss 
 
 Dash's — 
 But I heard her exclaim, ere I'd gone far 
 
 away : 
 " Happy I^ew Year to all, and to all a good 
 
 day ! " 
 
A TOAST. 
 
 Air : — " My boat is on the shore.^* 
 
 The guests are nearly gone, 
 And my cab 's before the door, 
 
 But before I go, dear Jobn, 
 
 Let us toast the girls once more. 
 
 Here's a health to gentle Nell, 
 And a glass to blue-eyed Mary ; 
 
 Here's to both we love so well, 
 Charming girls, who never vary. 
 
 Here's to bright-eyed, playful Liz, 
 Tart at times, through mischief merely, 
 
A TOAST. 237 
 
 And to her dear, dimpling pMz — 
 Whom we banter, loving dearly. 
 
 Here's long life to lovely May, 
 
 And a sigh to Constance dear, 
 To the bride who 's now away, 
 
 And to Alice here's a cheer. 
 
 Here's success to their best wishes. 
 And to all whose lives are true ! 
 
 Here's to friendship, more than riches ! 
 And a health, dear John, to you ! 
 
 Here's a bumper to " the Three ! " 
 
 And through life, howe'er things vary, 
 
 Ever let our first toast be : 
 
 " Here's to Liz, to Nell, and Mary ! " 
 
A BACHELOE'S WISH. 
 
 TKANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH. 
 
 They say life is a river whereon 
 
 Eacli mortal is destined to float, 
 Sailing on, in tlie storm or the snn. 
 As well as he can, with his boat. 
 In marriage the boat carries two. 
 Heaven grant when that folly I do, 
 The skies may be blue. 
 The mate may be true, 
 And oh ! may it favor us, too, 
 With a few 
 (One or two) 
 Little cabin boys, who 
 Will enlist as a crew 
 For the love of us two. 
 
WHAT IS LIFE? 
 
 A PLAYFUL, restless, soaring kite, 
 
 To earth bound fast 
 By Duty's string, whicli pulletli tight 
 
 Till death's fell blast 
 
 Sweeps in at last, 
 And whisks it into boundless night. 
 
MY SOLFEKmO CHOKEE. 
 
 A lady at the Ocean Jlouse, Newport^ having stated that she 
 had been unable to procure a cravat of the newly intro- 
 duced Solferino color, the author volunteered to send her 
 one he had just received from New York. It was accom- 
 panied by the following. 
 
 Bright, winsome, pungent Miss ! 
 
 Subduer of the " Ocean ! " 
 Sam Patch of wit's abyss ! 
 
 And Maelstrom of emotion ! 
 A thought has passed so ^at 
 
 Through my bewildered cranny 
 Anent the gay cravat 
 
 I promised to Miss Nanny, 
 
MY SOLFERESrO CHOKER. 241 
 
 I must jot it down for you, 
 With pen much like a poker, 
 
 Before I bid adieu 
 To mj Solferino choker. 
 
 I beg you '11 read therein 
 
 An emblematic token 
 Of traits in you I've seen. 
 
 Though never yet have spoken. 
 Like yon, its hue is bright — 
 
 The top wave of the fashion — 
 Eich as morn's purple light — 
 
 And symbol deep of passion. 
 Its Solferino name 
 
 Eecalls your sweep victorious 
 O'er the creme de la creme 
 
 By conquests swift and glorious : 
 Whilst the points which you see 
 
 At either termination, 
 l^ote the points of your esprit, 
 
 And its sharp fascination. 
 11 
 
242 MY SOLFEEINO CHOKEE. 
 
 Aiid the white, unsullied stitch 
 
 Which runs along the border, 
 Is the thread so silken which 
 
 Runs, like a grand marauder, 
 Deep through the lives of all 
 
 On whom your smiles descend, 
 And whom you 're pleased to call 
 
 By that charming title — Friend. 
 
TO MAKIA PICCOLOMmi. 
 
 BENEFIT WIGHT. 
 
 Copies of the following address^ some on satin, some on vari- 
 ously/ colored paper, were showered over the Academy of 
 Music, by parties stationed in the upper tier, Just after 
 JiPlle Piccolomini had been presented with a diamond 
 bracelet, by the patrons of the Opera, on the night of her 
 benefit, December 1, 1858. 
 
 Gifted One — from a gifted land ! 
 Fair rose-bud, sprung of lineage grand ! 
 Spoiled child of Music, Grace, and Art, 
 So loved by all ! Say, must we part ? 
 
 Mast we now lose tby song, tliy mirth, 
 Thy charms, enhanced by private worth, 
 
244 TO MAEIA PICCOLOMENI. 
 
 At wliicli in vain mean envy's craft 
 Awhile did aim her poisoned shaft ? 
 
 Must Yioletta now no more 
 Our smiles and tears at will explore ? 
 Must thy fresh voice, so sweet, so bright, 
 Our ravished souls no more delight ? 
 
 Must those dear friends we 've loved to meet- 
 From arch Zerlina, w^arbling sweet, 
 To that too cunning witch Marie, 
 So full of feeling and esprit, — ■ 
 
 Pretty Serpina, pert of manner — 
 Superb Lucretia — sweet Susanna — 
 Must these delicious friends of ours 
 Leave us to tears — ere many hours ? 
 
 Alas, too true ! And our hearts swell 
 E'en now, as slow we breathe farewell ! 
 Yet while we grieve, with hope we bum. 
 For with " Adieu ! " we cry " Return ! " 
 
A MOENIIS'G CALL. 
 
 The follomng was sent anonymously^ to mystify a young lady 
 who had performed in "-4 Morning Call^'' at Private 
 Theatricals. 
 
 Last night, Lucy, while yonr wit 
 Gleamed about your lively phiz, 
 
 One heart there was madly smit — 
 Would you know whose heart it is ? 
 
 'Tis the heart of— hear the truth — 
 One who loves you, loves your grace, 
 
 Loves your spirit, loves your youth, 
 Loves the sunbeam in your face, 
 
24:6 A MORNING CALL. 
 
 Loves the mischief in your eye, 
 
 Loves your laughter, ringing clearly, 
 
 Like an angel's in the sky — 
 
 Oh, that laugh, I love it dearly ! 
 
 !N"ear such genius and such wit, 
 ITear such mischief and such grace, 
 
 Lucy, Lucy, must I sit, 
 
 Never nearer than the " pit " ? 
 l^ever meet you face to face, 
 
 Never catch your bright, black eye, 
 
 Never hear your gentle sigh. 
 
 Never press your pretty hand, 
 
 Never, raptured, by you stand. 
 
 Never watch the young loves whirl 
 
 In and out your every curl. 
 
 Never whisper, Lucy dear. 
 
 In your heart's own private ear. 
 
 You 're a noble, generous girl. 
 
 Love's best treasure. Beauty's pearl, 
 
 Of young girls the one of all 
 
 On whom I'd make " A Morning Call " f 
 
A MOENmG CALL. 247 
 
 Lucy, Lucy, will you not 
 Mend your cold, unfeeling ways. 
 
 And shed upon my earthly lot 
 Some of heaven's purest rays ? 
 
AT KOCKAWAY. 
 
 The August moon gleamed o'er the sea— 
 The surf was fringed with silver spray- 
 
 The band was playing after tea — 
 And all was gay at Eockaway. 
 
 Young couples lounged in joyous mood 
 Adown the grand piazza's length, 
 
 And married dames, in shawl and hood. 
 Sat catcliing cold, or snuffing strengtli. 
 
 Yet, 'mid this gay, delightful scene, 
 Neglected, sat a damsel fair — 
 
AT EOCKAWAY. 249 
 
 A stranger sure she must have been, 
 To be alone, deserted there. 
 
 Her burning eye was bright as jet, 
 More imp than angel in its beam — 
 
 Face passing fair — and form that yet 
 Poets surpass not in their dream. 
 
 What faults were hers not one could tell — 
 Flirtatious, gay, she may have been — 
 
 But were it not for Beauty's spell. 
 Oh, how much less had been her sin ! 
 
 Ah, ladies ! ye who are so strong 
 
 "When all united in " a set " — 
 To whom grace, kindness, love belong — 
 
 Wliy thus a sister harshly fret ? 
 
 Be nobler — worthier of your sex — 
 In generous silence pass her by — 
 
 You canH forgive — but do not vex — 
 'Tis Nature made — that hright^ UacJc eye. 
 11* 
 
GEOEGETTE. 
 
 In dear old Gotham — jolly town, 
 Whereof who hath not heard ? — 
 
 In a snug house of great renown, 
 In spacious Twenty-third, 
 
 Sojourns the Bay State's light and hope- 
 Bostonian half — half Paris — 
 
 Puritan born — ^has seen the Pope — 
 And " stops " with Mrs. Harris. 
 
 Her name Georgette — a pretty name — 
 Not prettier than her hand — 
 
GEORGETTE. 251 
 
 Which, for size, form, and grace, I claim 
 The fairest in the land. 
 
 A veil of light o'erspreads her face, 
 Which charms you all the while — 
 
 And coldest hearts grow warm apace 
 Watching her witching smile. 
 
 But of her many winning traits 
 
 What most I prize and praise, 
 Is the piquant esprit that waits 
 
 On her warm, hearty ways. 
 
 I met her first in Boston Bay, 
 
 While on a summer jaunt, 
 And passed a long, bright August day 
 
 With her at blest l^ahant. 
 
 The air was fresh — the sky was clear — 
 
 It was a day divine ; — 
 We roamed on rocks — such walks ! oh dear. 
 
 What friends we were by nine ! 
 
252 GEORGETTE. 
 
 A few more talks — then, months rolled by, 
 
 And when we met again — 
 Italia's gifted child was nigh— 
 
 We stood in Song's domain. 
 
 Then followed fast a festive ronnd 
 
 Of supper, feast, and ball — 
 Where many a guest she captive bound, 
 
 And made warm friends of all. 
 
 At Pelmonico's, one moist eve. 
 
 In honor of her stay, 
 I gave a dinner by her leave 
 
 Enjpetit comitS. 
 
 We numbered eight, and at my right, 
 
 In gracious mood, she sat — 
 The hours unheeded took their flight. 
 
 So charming was our chat. 
 
 But brightest stars must soonest fade 
 And fairest joys must end — 
 
GEORGETTE. 253 
 
 A truce to festive scenes be made, 
 And we must lose our friend. 
 
 But, as thou leavest, bear away 
 
 Kind wishes — warm regret — 
 For, when thou 'rt gone, my friends will say ; 
 
 His spirits are : To Let. 
 
 THE END 
 
 28 Apr 1864 
 
 ia3B& 
 
iiih™?/ ^^ CONGRESS 
 
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