:i. O '*>'5S?.<^><5>.^<*^^.<^, «^><^.<^« <«l>^fe,'*!fe,l^l,J) POEMS SENTIMENT AND REFLECTION, WUJ.IAM JOHNSTON HUTCHINSON. --^gK^KJi^ — N F. W Y (.) R K : 1876. '^ Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1876, By William Johnston Hutchinson, In the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington. EVENING POST PRESSES. T O |lan |. jfinckt. Whose word of kind encouragement was a timely offering, this volume is gratefully inscribed, CONTENTS. PAGE Alcibiadks' Soliloquy . , . . . . (u; Antony's Lamext OVER Cesar . . . 16 Alone ......... »20 Asleep . . . . . . 41 Along the Stream 49 Atesha 71 Arsinoe ......... IBY Alth^a and Marigold . .182 A Thoughtless, Bitter Word . . .113 A Trifle it was, as Light as the Air . . 147 Berenece 74 Belated ........ 108 Bedouin Robber and Steed . . . . .119 Canst Thou Forget ? 88 Down where the Sea and Rivers Meet . .13 Deus ! Meus ! 25 Death of Julian Chlorus . . .87 David and Absalom 125 Echo 69 Ethel . 75 Epigram 142 Exquisite Draperies Hanging IN the West . 172 COXTENTS. Faltering Hollywood Hymn- .... Invitatiox to ^'Eneas . Tn Rkmembraxce Invocation- to Poluymnia I AM Dying, Egypt, Dying La Fleur .... Lines to the Alabama Rivek Li.NEs : The Sense ok DE.\Tn Little Maid of Anglesey Love's Index Lily of the Valley Lake and Wild-Fowl My Argosies . Motherless ;M ESS AGES My Mate and I . Mar.iorie On Concluding Cicero On Concluding Gibbon's History Ode: Horace; On Contentment Ode: Horace; To Thaliarchus Ode: Horace; To Quintus Dellius Ode : Horace ; To Licinius . Ode: Horace; To Grosphus Ode : Horace ; On His Own Works Ode : Horace ; Civil War PA«;R 155 42 180 90 . Ill 186 . 175 93 94 187 . 97 117 . 133 193 . 30 36 , 51 149 . 114 77 i I IfiO . 163 164 . 166 170 . 174 178 CONTENTS. Ill PAGE Out on the Mystic Sea ...... 168 O, FLY THOSE MuSK'-nREATHlNG HaLLS ! . 116 Pai!Samas ........ 78 Sonnet: To My Sister . . . .106 Sonnet: January ....... 183 Sonnet: To , with the Odes of Pindar 185 Sonnet: To Edna ....... 124 Sonnet: There is an Attribute . . . 135 Sonnet: When on My Brief Existence . 140 Sonnet: Come, Doubter ..... 143 Sonnet: Mine Ears Drink in .... 144 Sonnet: To Julia . . .146 Sonnet: And had I Planned . . . .156 Sonnet: The Assyrian Monarch . 15*7 Sonnet: The Sunburst ...... 177 Sunshine in Winter ...... 129 Song: Knight of the Twelfth Century . .188 The Pilgrim ....... 1 The Language of the Sea ..... 7 The Evening Walk ...... 9 The Invitation . . . . ,11 The Lost Treasure . . . . . • 21 The Revellers ....... 27 The Wager ....... 32 The Fortunate Isles of the Blessed . .34 The Sacrilege of Alaric ..... 44 The Pleixje 4 8 iv CONTENTS. page The Fog-Bell 55 The Death of the Oriole . 57 The Cape of Storms .... 60 The Recluse . 62 The Twilight Hour .... 92 The Complaint . . . 96 The Failure 101 The Star of Friendship .... . 107 The Changing of the Tides . 109 The Watcher . 121 The Anadem . 131 The Matins Bell . 141 The Burial of Pizarro 151 The Dreamers . . ... . 158 The Hours . 175 The Battler . 189 The Battle-Field .... 194 To the Robin . 10 To My Sister . . . , . 15 To a Friend . 28 To Philomel 72 To Brother . 99 To Mysie 136 To a Sunbeam . 145 Theodora 58 Tell Me, Good Lady-Mother, Why . 104 Unreconciled 184 Venus is again the Evening Star . . 6 Would Day were Come . . . . 24 POEMS. THE PILGRIM. ARGUMENT. A would-be pilgrim leaves his humble home, and is by inspiration led to a mountain top. He sees the fair earth spread before him, and, reading its history as in a picture, becomes unwilling to mingle in such scenes. Saddened by the character of man as there depicted, but soothed by Nature's charms and lovely examples, he retraces his steps irresolutely homeward. ■-EHOLD some toil-stained pilgrim leav: !>s his cot, fe Eesolved to slmn forever his hard lot ^s^ And speed, Avith quickening steps, forth &;!» from the vale That hears the roar, but 'scapes the wintry gale, On toward the mountain's base ; nor feels the darts That flaming downward come. Nay ! it imparts 2 POEMS. A new-born vigor to his feet. He'd gain Yon mountain tojD while daylight's charms yet reign. Upward he jjants. There, dimly in the skies, He sees the rock toward which his wistful eyes A thousand times in boyhood's years have turned, And kindled in his breast the fire that burned Thro' all the weary, seeming endless years, Nor ceased to smolder, tho' a flood of tears Had there its angry surges vainly rolled To staj^ the flame he fain would have controlled. Thus doth he climb the chamois' rocky track, Nor stays an instant to look quicldy back ; For not until he gains yon dizzy height Would he desire to \iew the wondrous sight : Then, then, in one intoxicating draught, Its pleasing aspects may be deeply quafft. Chasms may yawn and towering crags may mock. What cares he now ? his feet have gained the rock ; And, with a wistful cry, to view the world He lifts his eyes — and, lo ! it lies unfurled In one long pageant, one unbounded page. As told in words and verse from age to age. THE PILGRIM. 3 His eyes seek first the spot where man drew breath, And tell his heart how quickly man courts death ; Not on himself the load of ruin bears, But bows his kind through all the course of years. He sees the lands with peoples multiplied ; He sees the arm that iDlaced them there defied ; He hears His servant plead ; no longer urge, But dreadful silence reigns ; the boisterous surge Sweeps down o'er all. Fair Nature's dark'ning face Hath not a smile for one of all that race. He looks again, and other nations rise On Asia's plains, 'neath Egyj^t's cloudless skies. Uncounted hosts in glittering war's array Make death their trade — a monarch's voice obey To spoil a peaceful land, or ruthless sweep With deeds of blood that make bright angels weep ; And they, in turn, a satrap's chains to feel, Sesostris' line crushed 'neath the Persian's wheel ; They then to yield to crushing conquest's blight, And feel with Athens Macedonia's might For one dire instant — then to cast their charms Without one cry to Roma's conquering arms. 4 rOEMS. On come the ages. Now a ruthless host Steals from its barren home, stern Scythia's coast, With dread destruction loosened in its train — Each home to sack, each palace deeply stain ; And nearer yet, — when Christian nations rise, With History's page to teach them to despise Such fearful arts, — yet ever will pursue With fiendish cries war's way, and still renew The senseless struggle that with glory crowned Fair Fortune's guests, while woes their millions drowned. But now he turns from mankind's endless crimes, And views with swelling joy the beauteous climes That picture all the earth. Majestic forms arise. Of sombre hue ; but, as they pierce the skies, Reflecting gems flash back the rays of fire, And bathe his soul in transports of desire. The grand old Ocean, breaking on the shore. The old, old tale repeating o'er and o'er Of secrets kept deep down within its breast ; Of forms held dear, forever laid to rest ; Of some fair island, laved by summer seas. Where sea-nymphs' tresses flutter in the breeze. — THE PILGRIM. 5 The distant river, silver-sparkling thread, Brings quick delight, as, swiftly in its bed It pours along with ceaseless, noiseless motion To i3ay its tribute to unbounded ocean. Doth it not teach of life ? A joyous thing It seeks the light — 'tis then a feeble spring, But downward seeks its course, and grows apace, And in an hour enters for the race A generous rival, then a mighty power That makes its path at will, and every hour Bears on its bosom fruit for good or ill, Blesses the land — or curses by its will. — And then the beautous flowers that deck the field ! No human art can such pure rapture yield : See, how they bloom in every opening dale ! See, how they kiss the soft, caressing gale ! Ah, how the heart is cheered, if it but trace These tinted smiles on Nature's lovely face ! The pilgrim sought with calm and thoughtful mien His homely cot, and left the glorious scene For other eyes than his ; and softly sighed : O beauteous earth ! O darkening human tide ! POEMS. How joyous is the scene iu all thy lands ! Ami all thy woes are born of human Lauds ! The time-worn wrecks along thy paths I trace Bleach there thro' man's unldndness to his race, ~--K><2^^s^>0^ - VENUS IS AG.ilN THE EYEXIXG STAE. HOU fairest orb of all the night, We welcome thine effulgent ray, That holds in chains the waning light, And bids night's shades away. "With softest liame, sweet Venus, rise To reign the queen of western skies ! For thee we've sighed, when to adorn The eastern skies thou wast enstalled, And with thy splendor lit the morn, And shone on eyes enthralled ; Forerunner of the king of day Whose fiery fiood usurped thy sway. Now dost thou follow in his train, Tho' but to linger one brief hour. THE LANGUAGE OF THE SEA. Wliat rival sliall thy beauty Avane Or spoil thee of thy dower ? With rapturous joy by mortals seen Thou floatest there, i)ure, radiant queen ! Venus, thou loveHest Evening Star ! How c;an we ever say farewell ? Never forgotten, tho' afar ! Long we for thy magic spell. Fair lamp of eve, there calmly rest ; Shed joy and peace to every breast ! <-^^x:>iii?|)iS2>>[>^ - THE LANGUAGE OF THE SEA. ^^.INGING, singing one refrain ! — Tell me, ever changing sea, What so oft I've asked in vain — Break the secret now to me. Flowing, flowing to the shore, From some lonely, far off clime, Here thine ebbing life to pour Li unceasing, saddening rhyme. Sighing, sighing ever so ! — Do the memories till thy breast POEMS. Of some deep lagoon where flow Emerald floods o'er coral crest ? Swelling with the monsoon's wrath, Of some vast and sparkling ocean, On thy solitary j^ath Wafted with unheeded motion. Tell me, too, of pitiless storms, Wlien, beneath the blackening skies Lift thy waves in giant forms As resistless whirlwinds rise. Sweei^ing o'er many a nameless grave- Trophies to thy i^ower and might ; O'er the fairest and the brave. Who embraced thee with affright. O, thou deejD, mysterious sea ! Coming now and now receding — Secret none I'll win from thee. Whisper none save thy sad pleading ! -^^0<5-^roo{>^^ THE EVENING WALK. THE EVENING WALK. HEN twilight's softest breezes gently rise, Bearing upon their course the clouds of fire, And rarest, golden tints stain o'er the skies. What peaceful, pensive moods the heart inspire ! When twilight's shades anon come softly stealing. How soothing then, alone, to walk abroad. While Nature sleeps, her every charm revealing, Soon wins the weary heart to true accord. When twilight's darkening pall at length descend- ing, Displays the glittering treasures of the night, Of orbs and constellations never ending, How bows the heart before His power and might! May that long twilight, ever nearing, nearing, Glow with rich hues of hopes divinely fair ; May that last, dark, mysterious pall, when clearing. Show Thy bright, guiding presence waiting there. TO THE ROBIN IN APRIL. ^^...^ SWEET robin redbreast ! Thy blithesome note I hear, A welcome, welcome sound Delights my listening ear; And tells of dreary winter past, And blooming spring time come at last. O sweet 1*0 bin redbreast ! Each morning let thy voice Pour forth its hymn of praise. And with my own rejoice. The Prince of Spring-time, young and fair, Hath strewn his treasures everywhere ! O sweet robin redbreast ! Let not the icy air Subdue thy swelling song, Nor lead thee to despair ; With rich profusion, leaf and flower Will soon perfume thy hidden bower. THE IN VI TA Tin N. () sweet robin redbreast, How sweet thy ringing strain ! It seems to tell of clouds dispelled And sunshine come again : It seems to say, with tuneful art, The dawn is near ; up, drooping heart ! THE INVITATION. ed by Coriuna going a-ma OME, up my love ! (Suggested by Coriuna going a-maying.) And quickly don Thy field attire ; For, grandly on That steed of fire. The sun, ascends above. For shame ! sweet sluggard, banish hurtful sleep, And drink of Nature's nectar long and deep ! Stay not, but up ! These gems of dew, Like diamonds rare, Are known to few ; 12 POEMS. Yet, jewel ue'er so fair E'er shone in crown or cup. On morning glory's bell securely clinging, Wherever violet banks are coyly springing ! Haste ! love, across Thro' field and fold, In dark, wild wood. With spots of gold ; As conquerors should. We'll rest on throne of moss. For thee a crown I should be weaving now, — The fairest ever pressed thy golden brow ! Then haste, my love ! Too quickly fly Life's rosy hours ; Too quickly die Dew drops and flowers ; Too soon the steed's above. Then haste, O, haste, dear love, we'll seize each prize Of May-morn, field, and happy, blushing skies ! --K>K2^P=M5Hg^ — DOWN WHERE THE SEA AND RIVERS MEET. 13 DOWN WHEEE THE SEA AND KIVEKS MEET. ^ KNOW a secret shore — and low. Sequestered and well loved re- treat ! Tis there the rippling wavelets flow, — Down where the sea and rivers meet. m You'd say a spot so drear— apart, So wild, companionless — alone, Possessed no sweet, seductive art, No gentle language of its own. Oh, yes ! and often I have brought, From hurrying throngs, oppressing cares. And told them there, and there been taught Content e'en fitful ocean shares. The ocean ! unalloyed delight To note each varying phase and change Its face portrays, of shade or light. As zephyrs sweep or cloudlets range. II 14 POEMS. I love it for the friends I've made , The laughing wave, and dark browed rock In dripping robes of moss arrayed, Secure from ocean's every shock. There, too, the sea-gull's jjiping notes Give to the waves a plaintive strain, As homeless on the gale she floats. Or bosoms on the treacherous main. Far distant be the unwelcome lot That bars from thence my hastening feet ! And may their imprints vanish not, — Down where the sea and rivers meet. -<^0<2a^^Oo{>^->^ TO MY SISTER. TO MY SISTER. ^^^\i H ! sister sweet, e'er long to greet III'' An absent one with fondest word '^-^ Thine own kind smile will soon begnile A heart with joyous visions stirred. By love made bright, in quick delight Thine eyes will beam for me once more, E'en as some ray, si:)ed on its way, Proclaims the wanderer's voyage o'er. What welcome cheer thy voice to hear, When come again those pleasant hours In w^iispering glade, in darkening shade, 'Mid waving fields and blossoming flowers ! With daintiest care, in colors rare, Proud Nature may her rol)e adorn ; Be thou but there, to me more fair Art thou than countless gems of morn. And when at eve soft zephyrs breathe. And golden flames die in the west, — E'en that calm hour hath not the power That lives within thy gentle breast. 1 6 POEMS. A^^TONY'S LAMENT OVER C^SAR. [JuUiLS C(esar.J if H' appalling deed is done ! A mighty form forever prostrate lies, And quenched fore'er the light- nings in those eves ; The tp'ant's arm has won ; And Ca?sar from an hundred wounds doth bleed, An hundred tongueless mouths in anguish plead. There bows his only friend ! Within his arms he folds that matchless head, And on its brow his burning tears are shed ; While yet attend The mad, tumultuous throng, and curses ring Above the clay they almost hailed a king. And thou, laid low ! To other conquests, then, thy spirit hastes. And leaves to me this crimson flood that wastes. Thou wiirst it so ! And yet, not so ; thy spu'it fled, to soar To fresher conquests on that unknown shore. ANTONY'S LAMENT OVER CJSSAR. 17 O ru til] ess fate ! Immortal Cfesar ! whilst thy princely blood Thus pours along, beside that unknown flood Thy soul doth wait To see thine Antony his love-vows keep), And all thy foes to foul destruction sweep. Then, spirit, rest .' Thy dear loved friend to thee is not untrue, And unborn millions yet shall call one true — Him, Antony ; and best Of all that noble band once in thy train, Who held their loves as thine — poor loves, how For Cfesar's love, Ye howling wolves, behold this piteous sight ! This lyre unstrung — this sun robbed of its light. Nor high above. His mighty arm, Olympian Jove's proud lance At Conquest's voice shall ever more advance. There low he lies ! Ye worse than slaves, or hideous creeping thing. Look on his weeping wounds. So, tears will spring To your stern eyes ! Oh, let them forth — nor longer stay them there ! Such precious drops should temper my despair. 2 iS POEMS. And I may speak ? Then let great Caesar's virtues be my theme ; That endless chain of deeds, that, like a dream Of winter's night, Mould seek To paint its vi^-id piotures on the brain, And then in en-sy paint them o'er again. Was he not great While yet in untried youth, by stern decree. Dread Soylla wills: ''Cornelia's love for me." ? He spurns his high estate ; And for her love the tyrant's land is tlown, And chastely Caesar waits for her alone. See with what store From all the great and wise he decks his mind, The fruit of which he showers on his kind ; How he implores Of Eome's propitious gods that hour to greet That sees the world sit smiling at her feet. Undaunted, calm, He sweeps unconquered ever ; at his name Exhaustless spoil and lands grace proud Kome's fame. Hers is the palm : The East, Spain, Gaul, and Britain, each the prize To this resplendent bolt Tarpeius Hies. ANTONY'S LAMENT OVER CAESAR. 19 For Rome and you, Once liappy Eomans ! Can your list'ning ears Be dulled so soon? Flow on, ye pitying tears, And prove, if true, The love ye bore ; and, sorrowing torrents, meet To wasli these stains from wondering Pompey's feet! Could hut a glow This brazen statue's eyes now animate. Think ye that the}' would triumph o'er the state Of their great foe ? The noble Pompey's eyes would scorn the deed, And his great heart for this poor hart would bleed. Look on his brow Where, at 3'our bidding, I the laurel placed ; See how his soul its beauties there has traced ! Where roams it now ? Soft ! let me in his crimson raiment fold The godlike face we may no more behold. Here let them rest. The mighty arms a thousand tribes that smote, The skilful hands, his deathless records wrote, — Stilled with his breast ! The impious thieves have dared to force and rob. — The noble Ciesar's soul hath ceased to throb. Aye, uow ye weep ! Tumultuous passions wrap your souls in fire 1 Let Furies will these traitors in their ire Tantalus' sleepless sleep ! While all true Eomans shudder as they tell How liberty, by Brutus' dagger, fell ! <--^<5>l3H5^S2KJ>^ ■ ALONE. 'VE wandered by the whispering sea ^v^p^ Its joyous echoes spoke to me- They were not wild waves idly breaking. And yet, 1 Tho' oft I've heard them call before, The voice was not the voice of yore. I've stood u]3on the golden crest. And watched the twilight's gathering shade The summer sun sank to his rest, Where all his gUmmering glories fade. THE LOST TREASURE. 'Tis strange — Tho' oft I've seen his rays before, The light was not the light of yore. Dear Heart ! 'tis since thou art not by. The sea's glad echoing voice was thine ; The glories of that western sky, Thy bright eyes winged back to mine. Ah, yes ! It is thy presence near me there That makes the summer scenes so fair. o-#4>C?_?^S^>Gx§^ THE LOST TEEASURE. ITHIN a hall of royal state, Witli richest canopies o'erspread- v^P Wliere sculptured shapes in ambush V^^^fe-^ wait, i flickering lamp its beams is shedding ; But scarce its quivering ray reveals The form that thro' the stillness steals. T. 22 POEHS. The sovereigu of a tliousaud lords, — A monarch, whose soft breathed command Would gather to his gUtteriug boards The brave and loveliest of the liiaid, — BoAvs there in contemplative mood, Akin to the deep solitude. Hour upon hour has slowly pressed, When from his posture of despair He rises now, and from his breast He frees the hands long clasped there ; And from his brow he lifts the band, And tears the signet from his hand. Then thro' the court the signal speeds, Calling wise counsellors to attend, To reap the fruit that wisdom breeds, That age and ripe experience lend. Now to the summons' echoing sound The fathers quickly gather round. "Wait we, great master, thy command," Sulpicianus 'twas that spake, ' ' Name but thy wish by sea or laud, "Soever course our ensigns take — Be it cold Caledonia's heath. Or realms of burnins: sands beneath ; THE LOST TREASURE. 23 "From fair Campania's vine-clad plain ; Along the broad Flaminian Way, Where Avidespread Orient's soft domain Welcomes thine undisputed sway. Hast not the thing thou wouldst possess, Breathe but its name — the wish express." The monarch hears with mien benign, Views long the vassals at his feet, Leaves his high state with gracious sign, And kindly words their fealty greet. " O fathers ! not what I would taste. But mine I fain would have replaced. "For as the sun old Tiber sank beneath, A prize had flown, dearer than captive train Or sparkling jewel princes may bequeath : A day has passed, and I have lived in vain — No trophy from the field of knowledge won. No thought engrossed, no virtuous action done." ^f^y^^P-^-'y^ POEMS. WOULD DAY WEEE COME ! i^ OULD day were come I all, me I I can- not bear '^^-jwi^ To welcome now the silvery moon- 'w)0'^; Or listen to the strains that fill the air, — Like some unfeeling mirth to me it seems. And ye, bright stars, hide your reproachful light That fain would win me from my darling's glance. Do ye not know her eyes are dimmed to-night — Her laughing eyes, that oft my heart entranced ? Ye fragrant winds, so gently stealing by, I think ye know my darling's voice is stilled ; That her sweet song has vanished in a sigh — Her ringing voice that oft my bosom thi-illed. Until her eyes shall light again with glee. And silvery sweet the music of her voice In wavering notes comes o'er the air to me, No charm have ye that can my heart rejoice. DEVS ME US! DEUS ME US' 25 Would day were come to speed night's shades away ! What cheer bring ye, ah, me, ye wearying hours ? She loved the day, the bright and glorious day, Its sunny warmth, its singing birds and flowers. — <§K^><25!#«'Oo{l->#- DEUS MEUS ! DEUS MEUS ! (Inscription on a memorial church bell.) I BEING, swelling, Falls there not upon thine ear, Whisjjering, telling, In an accent deep and clear ; M And ever thus — Deus Mens ! Deus Mens ! Sweetly ringing In dewy glades, at early morn ; Its i^assiou bringing Into my thought, and lightly borne ; And ever thus — Deus Mens ! Deus Mens ! 26 Booming, eLiiiging O'er hastening crowds —in maddening strife ; Lowering, hanging, A pendant blade, that parts some life ; And ever thus — Dens Mens ! Dens Mens ! AVavoring, stealing Whore pleasure reigns, where beautv glances : Softly appealing To some breast that love entrances ; And ever thus — Deus Mens ! Deus Mens ! Chistering, thronging To Meditation's thoughtt'al hour ; Waiting, longing For some behest beyond her power ; And ever thus — ■ Dtnis Mens ! Deus Mens ! Wliispering, sighing Some cadence while the spirit sleeps ; Sinking, dying. As Care, forgotten, -waits and weeps ; And ever thus — DtMis Mens ! Deus Mens ! THE REVELLERS. THE EEVELLEES. 27 HEN this old world was young (A weary, weary while away) 'Tis said, mid vales and woods among The bright- eyed fairy folk did play; — That from their tiny, secret bowers. When shone the earliest moonlight beam. They came to dance away the hours, And pleasure reigned supreme. 'Tis said such pastimes ne'er were seen. For, as they formed and madly danced. From every flower on mead and green On which the silvery moonlight glanced, Some kinsman of each little sprite Would break the portals of his cell, And join the revels of delight, — So 'witching was the spell. Thus passed the hours of dear delight Till softest Zephyr's whispering sigh Bade each sweet fairy say good night, — For blushes tinge the sky ; Then round their queen, clasped hand to hand, They still the music of their bells 28 And fade, when sinks lier dew}' wand, To their own woods and dells. But these revellers far have fled (The world's so very wise and cold) And tlio' the same soft beams are shed No flowery portal will unfold. Perhaps from yon bright distant star, Or from some secret, deej)est glade, The night winds bear the tale afar Of fairy revellings j^layed. TO A FEIEND. I^EIENDSHIP, thou phantom or a dream ! ^ Sweet fancy of an idle hour ! How welcome thy professions seem, And fragrant as the tenderest flower ! Friendship, thou bubble rich in hue, That on the summer air is borne ! Is thy bright substance ever true ? Wouldst glow of thy pretences shorn ? TO A FRIEND. 29 Friendship, thou calm, iinmttied lake ! 'Twould seem that thou must ever sleep : Yet, should the gentlest zei^hyr wake, Wouklst thou that fleeting promise keep ? With such poor, undeserving arts Do transient friendship's shows beguile ; A glow the summer day imparts. But shuns the adverse wintry trial. Then how complacently I view Thy friendship, firm, unshaken, sure, — Since passing years have told how true And changeless it can be — and pure. Should calm contentments guide my thought. And symbols in my features trace, I ever found, when there I sought, A quick reflection in thy face. And when, with cares and doubts beset, I free my proud, imperious will. Thou dost not spurn me then, but yet Thou shed'st a tear — and lov'st me still. - -^^0<2?!!^-OoQ>^ POEMS. MY AKGOSIES. i- hf1(?b?w!r-- Y beautiful fleet lias sailed away, — I watched tbern, standing on the im^^^'v' sand,- M^^^ My white-winged fleet will come home 1^ some day, Bringing me treasures from every ' land ; For I've made them promise — the winds and the gales — That they'll lovingly Avatch o'er my fleet that sails. Over the tumbling and stormy deep, My well-manned fleet will laugh to scorn (Well-manned, if wishes can vigils keep) The warning wrecks that, beaten and torn, Drift ever and ever, but warning in vain. My fleet shall come sailing home over the main. My sturdiest sliip hath ribs of oak And deep fall lines, to buffet the shore. Wliat cares she for the whirlwind's stroke ? Smiling she'll welcome old ocean's roar. Sometimes, I fear me, she floats too dee-p To bring me the treasures I fain would reap. MY ARGOSIES. 31 I sometimes fear for my fairest bark, That I've fashioned the happiest sea to sail ; To gain it the ocean's so wide and dark, Her sails are of silk and her masts are so frail. — My heart seems to tell me, from yon golden shore, My bark will ne'er come to add wealth to my store. In my fleet are many of gTacefnl form, — I am sure they will swiftly skim the seas,— But then will they watch for the pitiless storm ? Ah, me ! they are trimmed for the balmiest breeze ; I fear that my fair-weather sailors will sleep : — Then my sailors and treasures ne'er will come from the deep. Some day thro' the golden, summer sea (Till then, how oft shall I seek this shore ?) My white-winged fleet will be wafted to me, With its priceless treasures. I'll tell them o'er : Then should fortune, sweet love, idle joys, soothe my breast, In some calm, peaceful port may my Argosies rest. FOEMS. THE WAGEE. [Their debts of honor were discliaro-ed with the utmost fidelity. The desperate gamester, who had staked his person and libert}- in the hist throw of the dice, sub- mitted to the decision of fortune, and suffered himself to be bound and sold into remote slavery by his weaker but more successful antag-onist.] ^k^UEYIAX, bring the shameful chain ^ ^ For my hands — my heart has lied ! Bind this too strong arm again — Its pulseless current is not dead : The flame my bold sire's deeds in- trenched, Within this bosom brightly burns, Would my dark destiny had quenched The fate my spirit spurns ! Comrade ! I thought to win thy gold ; But, comrade, all I have is thine ; And more beside, a thousand fold — For gold I waged myself divine. For idle hours I sought it not, — The mountain doth reward my toil, — I thought to bless a fair one's lot, And deck her with thy spoil. THE WAGER. Northman ! take this eaglet's phime. Thou shalt lead my chosen band, Exalted chief. Helvetia's doom — To languish in a stranger's land. Yet from thee one last boon I crave, — Then easier shall my bondage seem, — In tjie fierce onset let it wave — There let its pinions stream ! Warrior ! when from our forest north, At signal from that fluttering crest. Her fair, unnumbered sons steal forth O'er Danube's spotless, frozen breast, — I'll listen to her muttering sound, While dazzling sunbeams glance ; Then a proud freeman's soul shall bound :- I'll claim my plume and lance ! 33 --^O2s^^l>o{>^-^ 34 POEMS. THE FOETUNATE ISLES OF THE BLESSED. '^"^|2^AY, where are the far and the famed ^[^ blessed isles, P^^ Where the voice of the murmuring water beguiles, And the voyager's ever at rest ; Where music's the song of the guardian seas, Gently borne on the tale-bearing wings of the breeze — ! wli.'re are the Isles of the Blessed ? Just beyond, where uplifted the great pillars tower. Ever loiters Atlanticus' vigilant power, Lurking low in remorseless quest ; If I knew not his name, and how fatal his wiles, Enticed b}^ his azurine hue and his smiles, 1 should seek for the Isles of the Blessed, Perchance, 'neatli yon dreaded and frown-bearing height, Undaunted, some bark takes her perilous flight, By the winds and the waters caressed. O ! happy, that intrepid, unbaffled prow ! THE FORTUNATE ISLES OF THE BLESSED. 35 O ! liappy, that bokl, way-worn mariner now Swiftly nearing the Isles of the Blessed ! Entrancing the scenes that his quick senses fill, As unchecked, unrestrained, deep in vale, over hill, His swift, flying footsteps are pressed. Could a scene ever faii-er than this prospect rise : The sounds, the dark verdure, the fragrant swept skies. Of these fam'd blessed Isles of the Blessed ? Shall Conflict's dire din, be it never so rude. These lone, peaceful latitudes dare to intrude. To jar on his now fancied rest ? Shall cold Envy chill tlie friend once held so near, Or grim Slander's pale apparition appear In these far away Isles of the Blessed ? O ! haste, blessed Islander ! surely wing back Some token to guide thro' thine own furrowed track. Be it ever the East or the West ; That I, undismayed, truly searching my chart, May find, O sweet bliss ! in its happiest part. The fortunate Isles of the Blessed ! 36 POEMS. MOTHERLESS. ° NE eve, in fancy's idle mood, J: My listless way alone pursued, f^ A cry came, low and clear. It was, methought, the saddest sound That ever yet its way had found To an unwilling ear. Ere that, and often, I had read Of cruel wars, and havoc spread. And varied tales of woe ; But turmoils, flaming fields, and slain, Brought to my bosom no such pain, Nor dimmed my vision so. Transfixed, I listened, if again That note should flutter — but in vain, I only heard my heart : I looked, and lo ! a stately pile To cheer dark, oriDlianed childhood's trial Essays the parent's part. And yet, secure within that fold. Unreconciled, and uncontrolled, Thus plead affection's wants : DEATH OF JULIAN CIILORUS. 37 E'en there, Avitli every need supplied, Some vision, absent from its side, Tlie tender memory haunts. I turned, and softly breathed a prayer — That none endeared to me should share Those hospitable walls ; That no tear-stained, artless cheek Should there its orphaned pillow seek, As deeply darkness palls. — ^-K><23^^=2>'G>^ — DEATH OF JULIAN CHLORUS. IfSllL OMRi^DES, bend low, the certain hour m \f draws near : ,i^|pr2c;.=t^ But, hasten to soever fate befalls, ^ \^ Death's summons unconcernedly I hear — ^i^ A willing subject the destroyer calls. (\ And, since humanity cannot delay ' The still, resistless voice that bids him shape, And since i^roud monarch cannot disobey The hand that points the way he would escape, — 38 POEMS. Man's common lot is his — lie surely dies And leaves behind a pale, unsightly frame At length to moulder, whilst the spirit hies To airy scenes remote — a living flame. Then, should I, knowing, rather not rejoice With cheerfulness, content, and ready will, And give my speedy answer to the voice Most trustingly, and bid again be still The tongue that fain would tempt an unsought stay ? Let mine be wisdom's part, purer and better — • A cheerful acquiescence spurns delay. And well befits the honest, ready debtor. So, this unstable body frees its soul — Onward it speeds, and ever joyously With other thronging myriads, to the goal ; And, once admitted there, forever free From lingering, irksome doubts. How poor and vain The fragile casement we inhabit here To that celestial, gleaming form we gain : How gross its once prized attributes appear 1 Should brooding, deep regrets for this estate The weary evening hour of age employ ? Nay, rather is it pleased to separate From ceaseless labor for the realms of joy. The dearest, fondest transports that await DEATH OF JULIAN CIILORUS. t^(^ The soul of purest, proved piety, Are unapproaclied, save tlirough the single gate That shuts without the world's anxiety. Be not this Avelcome, coming stroke bewept, Since honors, even to satiety. The gracious gods have brought me to accept With fair renown. Ambition's cup is filled With unthought richness. History's page, Unsullied, bears no blood-stained trace Of cruel deeds, no tyrant's withering rage Taints o'er my name to live, and I displaced. — So, since my journey endetli free from guile. Welcome the word ! Contented with my loss, Undaunted, death I view, and with a smile. Untarnished and yet free from dark remorse, Conscious I am how purely hath been kept The trust committed by the divine power ; How, waking, 'twas my thought; and, when I slept, It was the vision of the deep, night hour ; And undissembling, often have I wept. Lest undefiled I should not yield my dower. Then, how serenely may I not reflect Upon the crown that Avaits beyond the tide ! And what fair portion may I not expect. When in its peaceful ways my steps abide ! — Ever detesting, in this restless sphere. The despot's maxims, whose fair words may hide 40 POEMS. Oppression's horrid hand, that qniok nprears To crush so'er unjust suspicion spied. And knows no spot uucurst hr idle fears. And falls a ^-ictim to his own vain pride, Mt every act to prudence gjive quick eai-. Or from experience craved a guiding word ; Justice, niT jewel, knew nor threat nor t^ar ; Honor but due, the chaplet saw conferred. How have I labored in the cause of peace. If, haply. Peace brought in her smiling train The people's weal, and Nature's glad increase ; That chief reward, — since Ceres sought in vain All art aids not, and wanton luxuries cease. But, did the rude barbarian lift to smite, A long farewell to her endearing charms. Till he his dark recesses sought in tiight. There to bewail the soldier's ponderous arms. Invincible and boundless in their might E'en tho' the Fates had whispered their alarms. And I had IciU'ned by divination's art That I must fall from battle's hurtful harms, And with immortal heroes claim my part. O this hath been my soul's oft told desire ! For now no traitor's steel -w-ithin this heart Bids it be still, — no lingering ills aspire By slow, insidious measures, dealt imseen, This tenement to bathe in quenchless tire. ASLEEP 41 And blast to storilo bouj^hs the oak oiico i»ro(ni ; But, like a fortivsscHl and sustained towev, That hatli -withstood beU\i|;uerinj;-, warlike foes, Iveel to the dust before sonu^ honored power. And in my ruin bury all my woes. *-K>c>«ft^^>>Q>^ ASLEEP. ■^S^Wi ^^^^^^'^ Avlierc Inuoeency slept, — 'S||^/| j\- It was the deep and silent night, — ^bf ,,vc>|- I lingered, as the moments swept. Sweet wateh I with the angel kept. Fair j^ieture ! Page of pure de- light ! We smiled, because our darling smiled. Some joyous pastime of the day, By which her rosy hours are whiled, E'en cross that stream her heart b(\guiled. O'er memory h(>ld its tender sway. We sighed, be(MUse our darling sighed. Some childhood's care within her breast, 42 POEMS. Unbidden, dared to float tlie tide And bear its shadow to her side, To mar that calm and i^erfect rest. And, nightl}', at that sacred place My heart's o'erflowing raptures pour : No burning lines that poets trace For me have charms, when that fair face Portrays its sweet and varviuo- lore. HOLLYWOOD. (Hollywood Conietery, EicLmond, Virginia, where lie buried five thousand Confederate dead.) jgiira^raLAIR Hollywood, within thy peaceful ":£li(Ml^ shade A stranger comes, and muses o'er the scene ; Thou heed'st not tho' a wanderer's feet have strayed. Lured by thy robe of autumn's variant sheen. Fair Hollywood, of those who lowly sleep, There is not one who softly called him friend ; HOLLYWOOD. 43 The accents of liis name, no tongue may keep, Of all wlio to their rest thy paths shall wend. Fair HoUj'wood, the countless, unmarked mounds That, undulatiug, cloy thy widening vale, Impeu forever in their chilling bounds The wearied part that steps not o'er Death's pale. Fair Hollywood, dread memories of that past, That gave these treasures to thy cold embrace, No dark aspersions on their fate shall cast. Nor bring an untoward presence near thy place. Fair Hollywood, thy crimson, deeply hued, Tells of no strife diffusing o'er the plain ; Thy wa\'ing arms speak of no steel imbued. Contending passions sleep in thy domain. Fair Hollywood, the stranger's eyes now turn To low, sequestered spots where rest the dead. In massive tomb with ostentatious urn And glowing transcripts of their tenants spread. Fair Hollywood, when in his distant home Pure recollections of thy features rise, 'Tis not of these he'll write in memory's tome, Not of thy grandeur, nor the great and wise. 44 POEMS. No ; 'tis that Tine-decked pile the sky aspires — A fostered trophy memory bears from thee ; Mid those who sank beneath the withering fires, Memoria hi cetenia shall it be. <-#OK2^p=vK>t§^- THE SACEILEGE OF ALAEIC. COULD Melpomene my tongue iuspii'e ! O for Apollo's all responsive lyre ! (^"rA^-^ Then shonld my soul no slothful utter- '^1^'. anee brook, And deathless write my words in Clio's book ; Then should I dare to cHmb the sacred mount And drink with her the sweet Castalian fount. Gifted by these, from Hellas' every vale, A voice should spring to cry afar the tale Of her dread death ; from the Saronic bay, Where young Hyperion greets the earliest day, To the far point that tells the Acarnian plain Where sinks his steed to spring refreshed again ; THE SACRILEGE OF ALARIC. 45 From snow-croTvned Ossa, where the gods abide — Fair realm of Tempe, Penens flood beside — Borne on the soft, Argolian zephyr's wings, E'en to the foam whence dark Cythera springs, Should rise the dirge, and, in its plaintive moan Tell of this land — its glories — glories flown. Could the heroic Theseus in his dreams, Have known that ever Phoebus' darting beams Should show this sight ; his oft stained sword — that foiled The Marathonian herd, whose rage despoiled Athena's state^ — had never idly slept. But on Parnassus' brow its vigils kept. Had divine Pallas, — she whose skilful hand Brought peace and beauty to her mighty land, "When forth from Zeus' brow, with war-like mien. All armed she sprang, — had Pallas then but seen The thread that Clotho's ever-turning reel Spun for her love, her hand had stayed the wheel. No spirit wandering those fair fields along Shall by its will or wishes fly the throng, Nor bend to Lethe's torrent, and lift up The mystic draught that sleeps within the cup : For what purged soul would crave a sight like this, 46 POEMS. Or here, renewed, foro-et Elvsiiim's bliss ? Beliolcl ALirio, scourge and dread of kings, With high disdain turns from the war-worn wastes. Upon th' impatient steed in armor springs, And leads the way his ruthless hand has traced. See at his back the wild Borvsthe'ian horde, Strong in their pride and eager for the frar, Forth from each fastness, as a deluge poured. O'er all the peopled vales that stretch away — From high Olympus, capped with glistering snows. From Achaian mart-^ and Elis' sacred plains. Beyond where Corinth's sparkling water flows And o'er its bosom waft Arcadian strains. On come the hosts ! no power to impede : Their eagar steps approach the MaUan bay, Like foul Chim?era in hot rage and speed, While Bellerophon sleeps, no hand to stay The march victorious : mount the glorious rock Where the brave hundreds, every breast a tower, Kept well the pass, nor yielded to the shock Of Persian cohort till death quelled their power. O sprang no virtue from so bold a sire To kindle spark of ardor in the son ? Alas I there glows within no valorous fire ! THE SACRILEGE OF ALARIC. 47 Tlie god-like race had died ere but begun ; And in their craven breasts the patriot flame Is of a pale and feeble, unreal hue : — Sparta lives not, and honor's but a name. Now doth the deluge stifle in its rage The world's great light ; the surging waves o'er sweep The best wrought deed of mind, of warrior, sage : With cruel joy the barbarous gleaners reap. Athenia, from her god-abiding rock. Lifts up her tearful eyes, and lifts to see Her sister, fair Corinthus, meet the shock. But looks in vain — the spoilers hear no j^lea. — Go, tell, ^olus, in thy winged flight. How Hellas' day has changed to endless night ! -- ^g>O^S^^2>o{>^-^ — • 48 POEMS. THE PLEDGE. j^.^ OOD friend, and wilt tlion say, "When this, my presence, here shall V)\\^^^ coldly lie, f(^^\ That in this still, lone way Thy feet, by fondest intuition, oft shall hie ; E'en tho' I be not here — and know well why •? Nay, stay that glistening tear ! 'Twas but my thought of what — ah ! what may be ; 'Twas breathed, for thou art near ; My thought led awe afar, then back to thee Unfettered came — save with my heai't's one plea. See this unprospered Hower ! The daAvn's glad salutation saw it blithe and fair. 'Tis eve's young hour ; Some churlish haud hath left its impress there. Mayhap, so unforeseen, my own sad share. Say such be Death's acquest. If, for my bosom, I thy vow achieve. And for thine — my behest ; If thou wilt of me fondest thoughts unreave, His mandate come — I'll hence — nor idly grieve. ALONG THE STREAM. .q And, when I pass away, Thou'lt seek my semblance in some Mend of tliine ; And, with liim here thou'lt stray ; Teaching, with sweetest intonation, that was mine, That he may, when thou sleep'st, our names intwiue. -^tH]-<2=5^2>oG>^-J — ALONG THE STREAM. HIS is the bubbling, laughing brook. — Recall that wanton, summer day ^^ When we harassing care forsook, And woo'd its lone, meandering way. How like some blended, fading dream, The day we fared along the stream ! And here the gaily, mottled bank ! Some fate each nodding daisy said When thou, fair priestess Vesta, sank And I assumed assent or pled. How real, yet how perverse, now seem Our fancies told along the stream ! 4 50 POEMS. 'Twas here we vrove the roval crown. O'er stuJilod from our iiorfumed store ; And, for bright jewels, sought adown Where on its breast our brooklet bore Great gems : Did Indus of the Treasure deem Her reahn outshone along that stream ? Here, we the harmless ford essayed ! But then how harmful it appeiired. How coyly did'st enjoin — delayed To tempt its hurrying course, and feared To ope thy tenderest eyes, whose gleam O'er-tided him who spann'd the stream ! Yes ! 'tis the gurgling, bubbling brook ! Soon, soon 'twill bo the placid river. Keep in thy heart our fair-day look. My happiest day — and thou the giver. How Hke a cherished, fadeless dream, — The dav wo fared along the stream ! - — ►^^^KEa^KliO^- MESSAGES. 5, MESSAGES. jj HAT is tlio soug the Oriole sings, As she wings — as she wings ? IS' My home to the loftiest bough shall hold — For my note is harsh and none will heed, — That afar may be seen my vestment of gold ; For who so gorgeous in wood or mead ? This is the message the Oriole brings, As away to her swinging home she wings. ^Yhat is the song the Linnet sings, As she wings — as she wings ? My note's of the sweetest ; my heart is warm ; I can brook no fetter ; the hawthorn hedge Is my sunshine homo ; for the wintry storm I haste with my mates to the glad sea's edge 1 This is the message the Linnet brings, As away to her perfumed home she wings. What is the song the Cuckoo sings. As she wings — as she wings ? I have found me a home in some borrowed nest ; I'll away and proclaim a warning call With a clamorous note from my swelliug breast— The bright-bowed torrent that soon must fall ! This is the message the Cuckoo brings, As away o'er the ripening harvest she ^Yings. What is the song the Mead-lark sings, As she \Yings — as she wings ? My home ^^•ith a joyous cry I gain : Of all I have chosen the meadow's brink ; And my tiedgelings sport down the shadowy lane, And the odorous spray of the wild thyme drink! This is the message the Mead-lark brings, As over the waving meadow she -uiugs. What is the song the Redstart sings, As she wings — as she wings ? I must tell you my secrets as hence I lly To practise my arts in the wood away ; The' few bear such manifold charms as I, No moments I find for their idle display ! This is the message the Eedstart brings. As away io the moss-gTown beech she wings. What is the song the Blackbird sings. As she wings — as she wings V In the lonely wood, in a plaintive tone Of deep, pure warblings, I breathe my tale MESSAGES. 53 To my listening mate ; then lie carols alone, And ^vith answering echo gladdens the vale ! This is the message the Blackbird brings. As away to the darkening thicket she wings. What is the song the brown Thmsh sings, As she wings— as she wings ? At morn and at eve shall your heart be stirred, For who so hears it will love my song ; By day I must hide where the rivulet's heard. In my favorite haunt, as it pours along ! This is the message the brown Thrush brings, As away to her shaded hollow she wings. What is the song the Red-breast sings. As she wings— as she wings '? Who follows the path of the blast so soon, Or lingers so long on the crimson crest ? My strain can the haughtiest passion attune To the peaceful lay of my loving breast ! This is the message the Red-breast brings, As away to her mapled bower she wings. What is the song the Mock-bird sings, As she wings— as she wings ? I have stolen a strain from each carolling throat,— Since few will list to my tuneless voice,— 54 l\-iEMS. And I mingle a sigh -^ith the lover's note. Or I nii^ke from the resonant forest mv choice ! This is the message the Mock-bird brings. As away on her studious llight she wings. What is tlie song my Spirit sings. As it wings — as it \\-ings ? I vnM seek some spot by a wood-land slope. Till the shining sun to his rest sliall wend, And then I will tell a sweet thought and hope To the hearkening ear of each plumed friend ! This is the mess:ige my Spirit brings. — And its timorous llight to the futui-e wings. ^^5^-cCi THE FOG-BELL. 55 THE FOG-BELL. 'HE fog-boll ! The fog-bell ! ^ List, as its rliYtlimio measures swell ! ^I^^^Tlie bell liaugs by the castle moat ^ That all who, waudering, as they near, May catch its accents as they tloat, — Soothing with hope each anxious fear, — That all may heed it well. The fog-bell ! The fog-bell ! I've wondered whence its subtle spell : Eor oft, as lengthening shadows lay, I've mused (whore it securely swung. Nor sped its warning tones away) Upon its mute, and senseless tongue, — Nor need to heed it well. The fog-beU ! The fog-bell ! The weary captive in his cell Hears it ; and knows the world without Is shrouded in relentless mist, — Immersed with his sail soul in doubt, — And he, unseen, its thought dismissed. Poor captive, heed it well ! 56 roEiis. The fog-bell ! The fog-bell ! The busy house- wife's thought will dwell While yet she holds her irksome round ; And, as its quavers loiter there She rests apart, and to its sound She joins her homely, unfeigned prayer. Good house-wife, heed it well ! The fog-bell ! The fog-bell ! How oft the storm-tossed sailor's knell I Long, rude days past the hand, so skilled. Has guided on, from farthest cHmes : Fond visions that his bosom thrilled Fade with its dreaded, funeral cliimes. Brave sailor, heed it well ! The fog-bell ! The fog-bell ! May it another message tell ? An iiUer sought the shore's lone waste With no concern, save careless thought : He turned him thence, his heart o'ertraced With precepts that the fog-bell taught. — Kind idler, heed them well ! >^-— - THE DEATH OF THE ORIOLE. 57 THE DEATH OF THE ORIOLE. mourned him by the oak-land way, Q His musie-breathing bosom — cold. f At wandering time thro' field and wold, WV;V^ Where in his loveliness he lay What need ? why should the hunter's shaft Make such the ^-ictim of its blight ? Who dreamed a zephyr's breath could waft So dread a missile in its flight ? Poor, injured birdling, we deplore Thy timeless fate ! Thy part in life Was through cerulean realms to soar. Apart from this unheedful strife. What lowly object here of harm With si^ecious pleadings won thine eye ? To teach thee for thy every charm The world's return to thee — to die. Wouldst not, if mightst, poor wanderer, say Of those whose refuge was thy breast ? Bereft, in some deep vale — away, Some vale of Tempe — pure and blest. 58 POEMS. Aud, how may lie, whose hurtful hand Could spoil them of their birthright dower. Presume, when he too nears the strand, To ask the tokens of His power For those whose accents are his joy, With smiles responsive to his own V And, for their sure defence, employ The parting suppliant's anxious tone V THEODORA. ^'K^fl "^^ ^^^ proclaims the race. I [\^| -"^ potent monarch's heart again rebounds; ^yfe^^Ten thousand echoing voices swell the /^4pS sounds ; ''(^ And joy illumes each face. I On all-impatient steeds, in bright array, Bj'zantium's maids encounter for the fray. He sees them waiting stand For that soft sound that bids them swiftly Hy ; THEODORA. 59 He marks but one sweet face with drooping eye, — She curbs with trembling hand. It seems amiss that her young, gentle life Should find its place in this deep, maddening strife. Now, to their task they spring, And onward, o'er the course a whirlwind rushing, While thunders roll around, Hope Fear is hush- ing ; For as the echoes ring To joyful shouts, he heeds but that brave crest That tells a timid maid leads all the rest. On to the goal they speed ! "With mighty stride each supple steed is leaping. With mighty throbs one heart in time is keeping. Will victory end the deed ? Appalling sight ! she sinks, nor hears the storm ; — Down in the dust there lies a pale, fair form ! Whence came that ardent plea ? From him who sits the throne, imperial, proud ; From him o'er yon bewondered Cypriot bowed ; From heart of royalty. He Kfts her from the dust, ignoble, lone. — She shares the state majestic — shai*es the throne ! 6o POEMS. CAPE OF STOEMS. EST thee, thou rambler o'er life's sea ! Some counsel with thee I would seek : For surely thou mayst whisper me Of that fiu- region, dark and bleak, Of circling pools and shattered forms — Yet all-seductive Cape of Storms. Aye, once I viewed that hostile peak, That promontory's deep scarred side; I caught its dismal whirlwind's shriek And heard its caverns wail, deride ; And favored is the bark that 'scapes That fatal, stormiest of the capes ! But say its raging mood were stilled ; That ocean calmer aspects lent ; That kind, propelling breezes filled The wings by many a tempest bent ; If then his course he deftly shape Might he not round that stormiest cape ? No hope ! Forbearance is the snare By which is stored its sateless rift ; Fallacious hopes soft breezes bear Enshrouded in their flatteriuQ- drift. THE GAPE OF STORMS. 6 1 Soon its dissembling tones will teach The terrors of that storm-strewed beach. But, voyager, o'er those troubled tides Perchance some spirit claims its sway, And guilt in fairest presence hides That those unversed shall surely stray ; Perchance, too, some rash rover's boast Now wafts him towards that storm- marred coast ? E'en so. That fringed and ragged shore, Told by yon headland lifted up, Proclaims the fruit the vintage bore Tilled for the Spirit of the Cup. Beware, O fair and cherished forms. That all-seductive Cape of Storms ! — ^-K><2^P=J»G>^^ 62 POEMS. THE RECLUSE. o|^^^^ OUR hearts be for the Recluse unop- pressed ! Of all poor mortals calls he himself blessed. On no splenetic humor builds his hope, But infinite as nature is its scope ; Within his breast installs a trustiest friend His eveiy act to censure or commend ; And, too, each secret motive quick reviews, Nor every slight indulgence misconstrues ; The worth and weight of action e'er computes, Restrains excesses and his harm disputes ; Upholds some cherished phantom to his gaze, And gives an unsought radiance to his ways, And lustre to each homely duty lends — Renewing ever while its glow expends. Felicity like this — unquestioned, pure, Devised by reason, fashioned to endure, The wisdom of his choice seems to attest ; And leaves no untiUed field for vain request. Attend the Recluse for his day's long round. At dawn forth from his couch with joyful bound, To welcome coming day. The god of sleep THE RECLUSE. 63 Bids speed him hence his wasteful watch to keep O'er those enthralled by his alluring reign, Which, when confirmed, he ever \d\l maintain. Released from bondage, on he takes his flight, Speeding the fading glories of the night : Impatiently foretastes the lingering day — Chiding the motive for its long delay. A herald comes anon, in robes of state To speak the orb's approach — resplendent, great, Wlio spreads o'er earth a glittering, jeweled band, — The princely tokens of a royal hand, — Ere yet he hasten on with generous stealth To share with all his all-surpassing wealth. On hies the wanderer in the happiest dawn ; Assumes as his the teachings of the morn ; Some clear writ line perceives at eveiy look, Or takes some glad refrain from every brook. Mayhaj), his thought recalls some well conned text That at some time, long past, its course perplexed, But now has learned its excellence so well That tho' unsummoned — yet its tale will tell. Thus on, till each accustomed trophy won, He turns liim homewards. See his day begun ! Now to his favorite haunt for dear converse — The silent realm of theme prolix, and terse 64 POEMS. Traced o'er the li\-ing page. Theu, may awake The long-stilled voice that there its bonds can break To fetch the buried ages from the tomb, To breathe their aiiy nothingness, and bloom With rising monarchs, or with toppling king. He \'iews the swaying nations — hears the ring Of myriad voices, or the deep despair Of him whose every prospect once was fair : The sanctimonious prelate and the saint With holy pretence their vile deeds bepaint, — Abjuring His commands who set them there, — To claim, vdth. sensual courts, dominion's share ; Or, their base passions on some land obtrude Till loathsome things proclaim its solitude : ^Tiile their names shine with proud prefix adorned, And praises said to those whom Honor scorned. But these are forms far banished to the past — The darkening clouds the sunlit skies o'ercast ; The dull, mean clods the beauteous gem ■withhold, Which once removed its virtues more unfold. A mighty phalanx stand the good and pure, '^liose fair, ennobling tenets shall endure Till earth and heaven be aged : these shall he call To peaceful consultation. If befall A mood to sorrow, profit, or to please, He'll find some spirit with that mood agi-ees. THE RECLUSE. The d:i3^ has flown, and, 'tis liis chorishcd hour: He strays afar, beneath the sky-pierced bower, And feels how poor and lowly is his place When measured by the endless span of space ! From yon ethereal, vasty realm, afar, There comes a wearied ray. 'Tis from a star By sweet Urania named. It murmurs not Because, forsooth, it seemed an unkind lot To set so fair an orb so deep in gloom To, innocently, expiate some doom : And those who've met its lone, estranged ray, Aver none purer in yon jeweled way. Worldling ! ere thou adjudge the Recluse' fate> Take to thy heart that absent wanderer's state. 65 <3<]'<^*^^^K>^-^ ■ 66 POEMS. ALCIBIADES' SOLILOQUY. [Alcibiades, at the request of his grateful country- men, leaves the scene of his successes in the East, and turns his trireme homewards. The night before the anticipated ai'rival at the port of Piraius, he reclines thoughtfully at the prow, gazing into the moonlit waters ; while his heart is alternately filled with joy at his pres- ent prosperity, and depressed with doubts, when he reflects that, perhaps the calamitous Sicilian expedition and its consequence, are too well remembered.] m/LiEEP, my suggestive soul ! nor longer l^f force Ijijjy^!^ The vexious labyrinth of years misspent ! Or, since tliou wilt unsummoned yet l^\^ discourse, ijl Let thy swift footstex^s seek some liap- I i)ier bent. Why slionld'st not tlioii, as yon great orb of day. Sink thy all-ruling state and find thy rest ? Than thou more kind, he will not ever sway, But woos re^jose in fair Argolis' breast ; Whilst thou, poor imitator of his prudent might, Ai't not content to cast thy scei^tre dow^n ALCIBIADES' SOLILOQUY. 67 And grant tliy weary subject a respite. Why wilt tlion stay Oblivion's gloom, and chain my deeds to light ? My fate the morrow's certainty unfolds ! P Intimation, cd;nst thou speak that fate ? That, as the future's speechless veil uprolls. Unwonted pride may not this heart elate, Or deep emotions to quick eyes attest Its crowning passion. In my hungering ear, That waits impatiently the banquet blest. Is it decreed that happiest throngs shall pour The loud acclaim ; or, shall I once more hear The fatal murmurs of Charbydis' shore That rests unmoved as to its rude embrace The winsome tide bears on the bark that soon no eye may trace ? And thou, broad, restless ^gean ! e'en thj^ might, Subdued by i^ale Diana's countless shafts. Would say how Hope may inerce thro' Doubt's dark night. To cheer the bark some blessed promise wafts On to its haven. Yon bright pathway's gleam, — Fair harbinger of glory's rapturous way, — Would guide aright my proud, ambitious dream, And Retribution's stern alarms allay. 68 POEMS. In tlie abyss this dark wide waste upbears, Forever let Suspicion's impulse stray: Whilst I, unshackled from o'er pressing cares, Now gaze into its depths profound and crave the peace it shares. Yet painting e'er that day of joy and dread When the majestic fleet lost Piraeus' wall And to Sicilian waters onward sped ? Or dwellest thou on Athena's sacred call ? The deep revenge my raging bosom planned ; Then to the foe to seal my country's doom ; On to the haughty monarch's breadthless land ; There to entreat my birthright's deathless gloom? True, reason came with power to attain Its lost possession, and its reign assume, There to abide and hide the monstrous stain. — Say yon inconstant city's voice adjudge that com- pact vain ! Oh ! let my feet the inspiring bema press, Where eloquence so oft usurped my tongue !— How yearned my heart its passion to caress, When all unheard for Hermae's crime 'twas wrung. Wrong shall be banished. Eight shall claim her own ; And he who from the state's injustice fled ECHO. 69 Sliall win his country's praise, — in sweetest tone From liim who first condemned. For who hath led Her fleet trinmx^hant ? Who hath ranged the band *Neath the proud banner ? These my cause have pled. On, then, brave steed by ^gean zephyrs fanned ! On, then, brave soul ! fear not the voice of thino auspicious land ! — ^-K>2^p=2>^>tH — ECHO. 1L-, EEP in the woodland glade f,\ Comes Juno's laughing maid, !k^i®^^ Now sorrow-blighted ; No sportive pastime telling ; The crystal jewels welling That joy once lighted. With frown, from Atthis' land. Nemesis, with her wand, Too, counseling with her ; Till thro' the wild-wood winging TO Sweet Eelio's tones are ringing — Then listening tliitlier To where the fount is sleeping, A seeret vigil keexnug For him comes speeding Uueared ; the bright hours wiling ; Witli blithesome note beguiling — His fate unheeiling. Enchained by mystic link, To the reiiective brink The goddess guides him : Ho sighs — he dies — ailoring ; The limpid shade imploring That in it hides him ! And there a lloweret clings. A saddening tale it brings ; Or, task assuming, It beai*s the lover warning, To love, no longer scorning Narcissus blooming. 71 A VESirA AYESHA. (Soveuth Contury.) J I YESTiA, when {]io. droail sand-sea I"' Us its billow rolls between, ¥^^ '^'^ ^''^'^^"*^' with somctinio thought for mo, Sd ^j This fair rose of Daniaseone. Sliaro with it the dnwiTs tirst thonglit ; Ft)vtli, wluMi Orient's splendors rise, Haste thee, that its sense be taught Glories more than his — thine eyes. By thee, 'neatli the fc>rvid ray, I3o its droo})ing form o'erdewed : So its lapsing life may stay, To enduring beauty woo'd. And when evening shades ap^ioar. Linger, that in loneliness Faney's bodings, phantomed near, Ne'er its fainting strength oppress. Then, should words of kind intent O'er its state from thee outpour, Blessed as t-ry of muezzin sent To Natolia's faithful shore »2 rOEMS. Comes then, hastening, Ayesha's sigh. Saying, nay ! thy heart's true queen Kinder, sinee thou art not by, Lov'st thy rose of Damascene ! — --s^0o<2^^t^Q>^ TO THILOMEL. (From the FroucL.) ^ HY -svilt thou, phiintive Phih-)mel, Ne'er from tliy sorrow seek relief ? To me, who come to share thy grief, To me thy heart's emotion tell. , I The universe, in brightest shades, t. Presents her beauties to beguile ; The bowered Dryads hope with smile To woo tliee onward to their glades. Afar the Northwind's breath expires, And thrusts aside his chilling cares ; The Earth her verdured mantle wears The sky's aglow with beauteous tires ! TO PHILOMEL. Tor yon Coplialus' love presumes With (liiinioiuls Flora to o'erspray ; While Zephyr seizes on his way Earth's wanton store of rare i)erfumos. The birds have ceased their warbling strife To catch again thy sad refrain ; The hunter stays his hand again, Nor thinks to mar tliy guileless life. Yet in thy tortured bosom dwell The luckless shafts to Fortune left, When one a sister's heart had cleft — So cruelly she aimed — and well ! Alas ! could my sad thought pi^rsuado The heaUng past into my heart ! Thy griefs are robed with memory's art, By present hours are mine arrayed. Thy griefs, when Nature quick espies, She soothes with fairest prospect spread ; Mine are in poignant regions led, Where envious Present stops my sighs. 73 74 roEMS, BEEENICE. :c LOW, tliou churlish ice-wiud, blow ! Beat, ye angry tempests, beat ! -'iiiV'H'u/^/^Witli ceaseless dashiiiQs, torrents, flow ! 7f5%^ " Think ye to stay his hastening feet ? ^^ TTliat heeds my brave love, for his step is light, ' And eyes would be dimmed came ho not to-night. Fly, O drift-wind, over the moor, Moaning tales of a gloomy heath, Of a faithless track, of a raiment pure, A silent sleep and eddied wreath. Nay, 'twill stay him not in his eager flight. For roses would fade came he not to-night. Bemorseful bouglis, be ye lifted high : Bespeak my love, for he long delays. Pants he ever on ? dost thou know his cry ? Hath he sunk to rest in the wild moor-maze ? If my love be bound in a cerement white. Low, heart, lie thee low on the moor to-night ETHEL. 75 ETHEL. (Daughter of Edwiu and Julia.) ^^EMOANING her ? All, nay ! ^^imH >|§ 'Twas the good Master called. ^I'lflV^''^ She heard, and, unappalled 5f^%^ Nor songht, nor wished delay. ^^ Oh, unsubmissive deed ! Eelentlessly to plead To hear the voice that, echoing, died away. Stayed not. Dow^n to the strand "With holy impulse came, "Whilst yet her breathed name "Was said to the pure band ; Their joyous voices told How she, to greet the fold, Need trustingly but touch their Saviour's hand. Darkly the torrent swept. She faltered at its brink — Angel, skilled but to think How shining ways are kept ! — He saw her heart distressed, And onward swiftly pressed, — She, from his bosom, saw its flood o'erstept. 76 roi'\]is. With iloop solicit-udo She roiula his fnco divino ; But haply notes no si/^ii How sulVerin<^s inny iiitnulo. l\)rov(n- h'cod from i)aiu : Uupitying" wish — iiiul vnin, That sho shoukl sliaro our hours \vith pains ini- buctl. 0>Si^5*X^^ ox COXCLUDIXG CICKIWS SfA'Tir PinLLIPIC. 77 ON CONCLUDING CICERO'S SIXTH niiLLinc. ^;,|rM|J| LIBERTY, poor flickering, dying flaiiio I ^Jlkiijj"; O breath of Eloqucnee, whoso liiiincis /^ cuduro ! name ; O Hglit of nations ! gloaming, over pure. ON CONCLUDING THE FIFTH VOLUME OF GIBBON'S "DECLINE AND FiVLL OF THE EOIMAN EMriKE." f CLOSE thee, vohime, with a pang — _ and joy, I'^'-i^"'^'!* A. pang at hanishmont from ]\[oslem, ^u^u Greek : ^fe Rejoicing I may yet niy thought empkiy I AVitli (hxnls and heroes future pages speak. 78 POEMS. PAUSANIAS. DRAIMATIS PEllSONJL. Pausanias, a Spmiaii General. TiSAMENUS, a Blviner. Lydus, a hoy aUendlnrj Pausanias. Scenes— Tho Camp at PlatnRa, then at Byzantiiim, and lastly near Spaita, Scene I. — Plata'a. A camp at ought. Enter Pausanias. f ||Wh||* AU. Another day lias gone, l|l^ffl'|2 And silent niglit lias curtained o'er our 1'^^ liost. 7. -Mr My soul liatli made resolve, ere Pliccbus' fj^ car ^^^ Shall toil the brow of high Citlia3ron's mount, The haughty foe shall taste our weighty steel, And turn him hence in ignominious haste ; Or Sparta's sons shall take that longest rest. Lydus, attend ! Enter Lydus. Lydus. Here, lord, to do your pleasure. Pau. My gentle helot, didst thou not relate. rAUSANJAS. yg In sportive manner for tliy comrade's ear, How Elea's prophet came into onr camp In soiled attire, and rests "with thoughtful mien Within its limit ? Lyd. 'Tis true, my lord. It was but yester eve, — The wakeful sentry kept his anxious watch To see the heavy hours creep slowly by, — When, as yon star that doth the west inflame Had sunk to rest, there came, as from the gloom, A halting figure. Nothing would it speak Save, properly, the word that doth insure Our camp's repose and surety 'gainst the foe. Him thus the sentry willed to pass him by And saw liim lirooding by the cheerful fire. Whilst all the phalanx courted soothing sleep. There kept he in that same strange attitude, Wlien I, at early morn by sleej) renewed, Did seek my duties. I did him long observe ; And from my musings wove a jesting tale To tell my comrades : how tvom Pluto's realm A cunning spirit had by trick obtained The key that doth unlock the nether world. And fled to earth. It was this tale you heard. If it doth give offense, your pardon on it. Pau. Nay, boy, it matters not. I rather joy That thou hast pleasant humor. Canst thou tell 8o POEMS, His name and present business ? Lyd. He is a seer, and doth of fate forecast ; His name, Tisamenus. Pau. Seek liim e'en to the camp's extrejnest verge : Tell him that Sparta's valiant captain waits, And would hold converse. Lyd. This will I do and come with much dis- patch. [Exeunt. Pau. Now may I know the issue of our trials ; The great events that by them shall declare. Perchance the tongues of ages yet to be Shall sound our glories on to infant ears, And each shall sigh, that destiny had willed Long years of intervention. Perchance a shade As deep in hue as that o'er Stygian flood Shall blight this happy land, and time shall weep And shudder as it ponders ! Lydus draws near, In quick attendance on the thoughtful seer. Eniej- Tisamenus ; Ltdus keeps the door. Welcome, good friend, if haply so you prove. Yon harmless boy of thee hath brought report, Whose strange complexion bids me seize a hope That thou. may st argue from some secret sign The fruitful morrow, and what swift result Shall crown its dreadful conflict. Tell me this. PA USANIAS. 81 Tis. Dost tliou know me ? Pau. Thy name I know, and 'tis Tisamenus. Tis, Canst build the structure of thy hopes and fears On such foundation ? Pau, There is a gift by mighty Zeus willed To live and mingle in the royal blood Of Sparta's kings. Such is this potent gift That he can read, as with the stycale's rod, The thought that flits portrayed upon each face : And by this mean I know thy hidden j)owers. Such is the virtue of it. Tis. Mine is a gift that far outmatches thine. In my fair youth Elea was my state, Where, with the swains, the Hyblsen brood I chased ; Till with ennobling years proud visions came, And thirsts for emulation. Thence away The Pythian's blessing to obtain, then ask Her much sought counsel. Her, with great amaze, I heard pronounce a fate of much import : That in five contests I should victor be. No more she'd speak, but I must time abide To learn their nature. Yet it hath not been. To the Olymi^ic sand from Andros came One who o'erthrew me in the heated strife. 82 POEMS. It seemetli then my triumphs must be won Upon the bloody tieki : my gleaming sword Shall hurl yon myrmidons back to their haunts. Pau. But, sir, what of thy rare prophetic gift ? It is for that I bade thee to my tent, Tis. She that endowed me with my blessed hope Did grant a blessing that doth it excel, — Breathing into my soul a subtle power Whereby such things as have not yet seen life Stand forth apiDarent. This I'll not impart Save for a compensation men adjudge Beyond compare. O Spartan, hear thou it : To be a fellow of thy honored state Is my desire. Attain this by thy speech : To all tliy wishes will I then comply ; And we, in unison, will teach the foe What virtues dwell in heroes. Pau. I'll to our generals, and tell them all. Stay ! I will soon return. Lydus, away ! [Exeunt. Tis. This Spartan, tho' a bold one, and ap- proved, Hath that within him that may well be spared : It is the calm that tempts the nautilus ! The exigencies that enshroud this time Have forced him to the near regards of men : rAUSANIAS. 83 But, when tlio timo of hlissful i:)0!ieo ^\vM come, This rigid oak, that bows not to the wind, Shall, by the flame insidious hixuiy fans, O'er topple in its pride — and shake the earth. But soft ! he conies again — and all assent. Enter Pattsaniab, Epliors, Generals and Soldiers. Pau. Tisamenus, much is your x:)oint discussed, And many think your price too much enhanced. But, terror of the Median host is such That all do yield ; and do their hopes intrust To the joined honors of our several hearts. What say you of our chances ? Tis. For this great honor I do give you thanks; And I shall so comport my every act To bring a happy issue to our perils. Spartans, know this : Yon river that divides The gorgeous host from our too eag(^r band Would stay your course. Across the turbid tide Lurk many dangers. So, e'en to our foe Come he to this. We will await him here. Asopus dared, his folly shall appear ! 84 POEMS. Scene II. — Byzantium. — Pausanias, in a Persian rohe, banqueting in great magnif- icence, surrounded by his officers. — Music. Pau. Slaves ! be ye stiU, and list to my com- mand. FiU with the ruby wine each sparkling cup ! Ha ! Ha ! thought we along Asopus side That night could ever witness sight like this ? Lydus, thou dog, come hence ! What was my sj)eech When we then dreamed among our foes and spoils ? Lydus. You bade our Grecian oflficers attend : You'd have them see, you said, the Persian's folly ; And marvelled he should leave his jDrosperous home To wTench a homely pittance from our hearths : You bade the helots pile the massy spoil On countless beasts of strange and unknown mould, And bear it thence to many a sacred shrine : You then bade spread our humble, frugal fare, — In mighty contrast to the Persian's pomp, — And said the lesson that it did avouch Was, that by modest mien and honor's path Men are ordained for freedom : — Save your hand I PAUSANTAS. 85 Pau. Nay, fool, I will not strike; — tell on your tale. Lyd. But, since your brain hath turned with glory's pomp ; Since yon despise what you did then commend, Your friends have from you one by one far flown, Till you are, like Laocoon, all entwined Within the lawless pleasures of this court. I crave thy pardon. Thou didst bid me speak. Pau. Out, villian, and call hence Tisameuus ! [E.vit Lydus. That vile imposter who himself withholds, Thinking to check our mirth and pleasant hours ; Giving himself much praise, because forsooth Some actions he foretold went not amiss. Eniei^ Tisamenus. Well, citizen, how fares it with thee now ? Dost think the iDrice once paid for thy fair words Was gain to Sparta ? Tis. For my poor coin great riches I have gained ; The gain to Sparta may not thus allow. Pau. Put off thy riddling and sx)eak plainly now. Tis. 'Twas my ill fortune, one brief year ago. To own a state that could no honors boast. 86 POEMS. Bat now o'er happiest Sparta may I roam, As her proud son. Pau. Know, proud son, thine is a matron gaud- ed. Of that pertains to riches she hath not : She hath a boundless store of arrogance: Nought else besides. Tis, Pausanias, thou shalt perforce hear me. Thou art the sorriest wreck of all these times. Like great Diana thou didst climb the sk}^ ; And like her thou art sinking all but shorn. I tell thee, man, that Sparta marks thy crime : She knows thy wild intents, — thy hopes shall die. What means this aping of her deadliest foe ? Thy flowing robes, rich collars, fragrant wines ? "What means this tale the guardian winds bear her? To wed the monarch's daughter thou wouldst give Him all domain ? — and, can it then be That thing so base had birth on Sparta's soil ? I tell thee, madman, how thy sun has set : Thy country's summons stays but at the door. — Ho ! guards, attend, and bear this traitor hence ! [Enter guards^ who bind Pausanias and exeunt. PAUSANIAS. 87 ScEiSTE III. — Sparta, near the Temple in Minerva's Grove. Eater Pausantas, disguised. A hoy dis- guised. Pau. Tell me, good Lydiis, is't not by this wood That great Minerva k(?eps her solemn state ? Lyd. Methinks we should be near it. Pau. O dreadful bolt that rived yon knotty oak ! Why dost thou pass me by to vent thy spleen On that which gladdens nature '? Why blast there And I stand by unharmed ? O Jupiter, Send thy shaft next into this hateful breast — This life detestable ! Ope now thy hand ! Oft have I viewed the hurrying lightning's play. And heard Jove's thunders sounded earth around In breathless wonderment. Boy, fearest thou not? When I was of thy fresh and tender age, 'Twas of all deeds most fearful : wiser grown The fancies of that age yet ever stayed. Using that expedition it retains, It cannot now break thro' this wall too soon ! Ltd. I pray thee, that thou shouldst not yet desi^air. 88 POEMS. There are sncli sliiftiugs in this world of ours Tliat Fortune's gifts lie strewed upon our paths Where least expected. Bid thy courage up ! Here is the Temple : we will fly to it. And, dying at Minerva's feet, thus gain Immortal honors elsewhere sought in vain ! Enter citizens lolio wall the entrances to the Temple. CANST THOU FOKGET ? Jf^'^ ANST thou forget ? Ah, say 'tis joyous jljPl^ej^ Green every field, and rustling every t{ bower. K 15 fji^ No song save thine can sweetest song- ster bring ; No voice save thine can waken every flower. The harebell thus : Why, fondest, stayest thou yet? Dost think then, harebell, that we can — forget ? Canst thou forget ? Ah, say 'tis summer come. We woo, outstretched, the shriveling stream* whose note CANST THOU FORGET. 89 Makes harmony with restless insects' hum, And fancies shape where fleecy atoms float : Yon structure bokl is fair — none fairer, yet 'Twas planned for thee. Dost think we can — forget ? Canst thou forget ? Ah, say 'tis autumn, dyed And trophied o'er with deep-hued leaf and tree. We turn afield— then stay, for one beside : Mem'ry's illusion, fondest, 'twas for thee ! Apart, with oft communings, stores we set, Full for thy sake. How^ canst thou say— forget ? Canst thou forget ? Ah, say 'tis wdnter drear. We mutely stray, that Nature may not wiike ; We stoop and flaked trac'ries now appear. Wouldst know the characters our musings make ? A name. Why, fondest, this is thine ! this yet ! For hearts guide hands. Dost think we can — forget ? Canst thou forget ? Aye, when yon matchless light Forgets to gleam far into ether space ! It shall be then thou'lt fade from memory's sight, Then cease to phantom each familiar place. Thy doubt hath wronged us, fondest: never yet,— Mine eyes are dark'ning, — need to say — forget. 90 POEMS. INVITATION TO .^.NEAS TO TARRY AT DELOS. ^•E<7^^ IS of Delos wc siii£v, of tlio bride of the |,gj^ i AViiters, >^r-% Haply set on the crest of the soft fjN .^gean wave ; How joyous the strain when Mnemo- syne's daughters Sing of Dolos, whose footstool the blue waters lave ! See ! all Cyclados stand as in haste to embrace it, 'Tis to lovingly shield it from Boreas' wiles. They his keen blasts have kept, that its cliarma ever grace it ; By them borne his frowns, for it treasured his smiles. Aphrodite's bold sou, shun Ausonia's dominions, Whore the swords now unsheathed to bright bucklers resound ; Let thy flying steed rest, folded be her broad pinions, — 'Tis for thee at fair Dolos the banquet is crowned. INVITATION TO yENEAS TO TARRY AT DELOS. qj Harpies eye thee askance, fell Cyclopean strangers Now would wave tlieo to isles favored, seeming- ly fair ; Troubles lurk in tlieir groves, in their atmosphere dangers, And the sirens are false as the smile that they wear. The brazen beak turns not ; cruel Fate him em- powers. On, then, tempt. Sidon's qnecu with illusive de- lights ! O most godlike of men, borne from Ilium's towers, Why range the seas longer when Delos invites ? - --■<[>i>^->- 92 POEMS. THE TWILIGHT HOUE. ^?TSl^ ^^'^ tnmnltuoiis Day, soon flown With his thronging, boisterous train, Wrapt in roseatc-huod disguise, Paints the sky witli daintiest stain, Wlien the gentle z.ephyrs rise, Be that hour thine own. 'Tis the hour of cahn repose ; Tranquil influences breathe ; Then each passit)n sinks to rest, And Hope's frailest tendril-wreath, Crushed till then within the breast. Upward coyly grows. Unimpassioned, thou'lt re\dew Many a heedless word outspoken ; Deeds that then seem veriest madness ; Tenderest friendship aU but broken ; And once more, with sense of sadness. All thy vows renew. Watch through twilight's soft decline ; See the future's thread unroll'd ; Keep the hour that seemeth lonely — 'Twill to thee thy worth unfold : Fellowship'd with conscience only. Guard that hour as thine. LA FLEUR. LA FLEUE. (From the French.) ADING and solitary flower, Once x^i'itle of all tlie dale, 93 ^^^4^ Behold thy dower with ruthless power ^ Disx^elled by every gale ! ^ Fate thus from many a mortal reaps, We're kindred save in name, — A zephyr sweeps, the leaflet leaps — Past pleasure whilst it came. Each day that lingers wdth the past Some cherished dream enfolds ; 'Twas fairly cast, yet, like the last, A fancied dream withholds. Till wondering mortals, stirr'd by grief At retrospective hours. Ask why, beneath, is life so brief To ecstasy and flowers ? r^^<^}oQS^^DoQ>^' 94 POEMS. LINES TO THE ALABAMA KIVEE. _ JL LOW on, mysterious torrent, by the ^il p might ^^'^y^ That taught thee first to thread yon deep recess ; 11^ Roll onward, in thy stern and sluggish flight,— Toward ocean press ! Perchance some crystal lakelet was the source From whence thy life was drawn, with murmur- ing tone, Unheedful of a future's tortuous course — So vast, so lone ! Lnpatient then in all thy glimmering length, Didst thou not scorn thy toils, as oft waylaid Some noisome fen usurped thy lusty strength — Else festooned glade ? Yet onward surged ; their destinies enhance Thy murky volume by a near embrace ; Then onward flow'd thro' Forest's still expanse With faltering pace. To know thee first beneath the breathless night I How solemn, how unpitying, dost thou seem : LINES TO THE ALABAMA RIVER. 95 Again to view tliee by the glittering light, Or mellowest beam ! And note the changeful shapes its rays entice ; The weird phantasms that thy currents yield. E'en thus, methinks, with many a quaint device Glow'd Thetis' shield ! As Oceanus there in wide confine Shut in the varied tale of valorous deeds, So dark magnolia's form thou mayst divine Midst quivering reeds. Flow on, O Alabama, by the might That won to thee this deadly wilderness ! None shall disjiute with thee a sovereign's right Here to oppress ! Mobile. ^-^<3<^2^^M>^^-' 96 POEMS. THE COMPLAINT. (After " La Fenille " of Arnault.) OEN from the bougli, Sped o'er tlie heath, . Where goest thou, Poor, withering leaf ? I cannot tell ! With unremitting stroke The wind hath dashed our oak, And chants my knell ! Soon life shall cease ! Now here, now there. At his caprice Borne on the air. To plead were vain. Submissively I sweep By mountain top, or creep Low in the plain ! E'er thus to be ? Unsparing lot ! Nor rest for me ? O, breathe it not ! As I must all — The humblest herb that blows, Dark laurel, fragrant rose, Untimely fall ? LITTLE MAID OF ANGLESEY. 97 LITTLE MAID OF ANGLESEY. (Welsh Ballad.) ITTLE maid of Anglesey, ■^ How dream-like now it seems to me I Behind, the evening vesper toU'd ; Before, the Biscan billow roll'd ; And I Avas borne to lands unknown. And you were left to weep — alone. Little maid of Anglesey, From far adown the Avestern sky There came a messenger to me : It was a last, a lingering tie ; It was that band of molten gold, Just blending with the shades of night, Reflected from thy tresses, told Who Avatched — a fareAvell, signal light. Littler maid of Anglesey, My heart that eve Avas full of thee : For Avhen that beacon ceased its flame A thousand grateful memories came From days bygone ; and, pondering long BoAved down, I met the gathering throng. I vieAved again the tapering spire ; 98 POEMS. I caught the accents of the choir ; The master's word, the near appeal, (How oft the errant eye would steal To one who listened at my side, With holiest impulses to guide !) The little cot, the rose-wreathed door, The hill-side patli, the oft-trod shore ; The evening pastime on the green — I lived them o'er — each treasured scene. Little maid of Angiese^', Fair maidens dwell in Normandy ; And eyes there be that swiftly glance, And tones of softest breathings sigh, And feet to merry measures dance Where fuD the yellow harvests lie. I've met the glance to scorn its spell ; The sigh passed as the idle wind ; I knew no lover's tale to tell, As through the mazy dance we twined. Little maid of Anglesey, Back, back the good shij) came to thee. My heart, my beating heart, was true, And all its beatings, as she flew. Were that the lingering doubts of years Might prove as idle as its fears ; And as she onward flew, and fast. TO BROTHER. 99 Again my eyes, as in the past, This rock with eager questionings sought, To know another ray had caught Thy tresses' gleam from oat the night — An ever-faithful, guiding light ! --<^^^^2K>€-^^ — TO BROTHEE. 3 OULD, l)rother, would that ever thus Through life's uncertain weather, Would it might ever be for us To wander on together ! Thus ever onward, side by side, Thy voice to cheer, my hand to guide. Would, brother, that thy kindly eye Might never beam less brightly ! Would that thy heart might ever lie Within its cell so lightly ! And be life's canopy to you Thy cheek's own blushing, happy hue ! lOO POEMS. In glory walks our autumn day, And faultless, to your reason : So, brother, be tliy far-away — That ever-present season. Be thus its by-ways broad and sure Above, its vapory realms as pure. And if it be, for one, thine arm To point iintrod direction ; To shelter from a fancied harm, — A brother's own protection, — Then for him be that love of thine As steadfast as for thee is mine ! -^?x3<^=^» THE FAILURE. THE FAILURE. ^^''_ANG out the red flag (That ominous token Of plans never realized, Contracts all broken), Roll down the shutters ; The occupant's fled Where he heeds not anathemas Hurled at his head ! 'Twas a desperate affray, — And the wise self -debater Saw fate must subdue him, Were it sooner or later, — He struggled in silence, No pang would reveal, But ever an Ixion Writhed at the wheel. AVliat ho did do Avas this, (And with reason enough), He fled from the world — And the w^orld's cold rebuff. Now, down with his books — Let their pages be scanned ! Let us see how he ciphered, How reasoned and planned. POEMS. What a wonderful fabric Of imfinislied scheming- ! What a gossamer structure Of fanciful dreaming ! What a record of error ! What a desperate showing ! What a pittance is due ! What a mountain is owing ! Now on and yet on Staring characters stand ; First set, then erased With a tremulous hand, W^ith a wild, throbbing brain And a quick beating pulse, But the truth would remain With its changeless results ! So the books are far flung. And the tenant has flown. But where did he go ? Ah ! that secret's his own. Hand the calendar down ! Add his name to tlie list ! From the world's busy train He's already dismissed ! But the eye, all-enchained. Now amazedly pauses : THE FAILURE. 103 What a blundering throng ! What astonishing causes ! Read the record far up, To the top and the first, And of all the disastrous This last is the worst ! This one toiled on for knowledge, Fed his hunger for learning ; For far-sounding plaudits, This failure was yearning ; This one gTasped out for riches — And saw them depart ; This one i^layed for a bubble — A cold, ashen heart ! This one tasted ambition — 'Mid turmoil and strifp : But his was the saddest — The failure of life ! I04 POEMS. TELL ME, GOOD LADY-MOTHER, WHY. ELL me, good Liidy-inotlier, wliy The zephyr's laugh is still'd. K I like not its foreboding sigh, — - My \Qvy heart is chill'd. My child, the evening-breezes light, Alarmed, fly the winds of night. Tell me, good Lady-mother, Avliy The gentle moonbeams fade. Why should yon cloudlet hast'uing by Enfold them in its shade ? My child, a symbol 'tis, unfurled, From storm-cloud to the zenith whirl'd. Tell me, good Lady-mother, why Tlie fitful gleam is near. Its vivid dill-tings, flaming high, Oppress my heart with fear. My child, it is the lightning's glare Whose purity shall linger there. Tell me, good Lady-mother, wli}^ So dark it seems — and strange. Why lowers so the sparkling sky ? TELL ME, GOOD LADY-MOTHER, WHY. I do not like the change. My child, it is the blessed rain That brighter makes the sky again. Tell me, good Lady-mother, why These smiles your features wreathe. Why falls the hand, why dims the eye ? Is it the changeful eve '? Rains sobb'd ; skies flamed in tempest Avild- Nor answer else came to the child. [05 - - '--^>2>t?-<>- '^m IC6 POEMS. SONNET. (To my sister, with a copy of Shakespeare's Works.) 's^^Pplj^ HEN, from the varying phases of the '^ !^V;\^'^i?Thou'dst seek companionship for every ' mood, Jiff^ Open these pages, and behold enshrined yr A smile for gladness, tears for solitude. \j Withia these narrow bounds thoult iind, at best, The subtlest strains the soul divine hath play'd — What deep emotions told ! what doubts express'd ! And every fault with just exactness weighed ! Call it a garden, blooming with sweet thought, Whose true complexion serves but to inspire : Within its pale each rarest flower is taught To shed a fragrance that it holds entire. So, if this garden thy quick sense attain, Thou'lt fly all meads, and cra\ing come again. — -M]-^2s^ THE STAR OF FRIENDSHIP. 107 THE STAR OF FRIENDSHIP. I'? (1(1^ HEN forth, again, upon the main Tlio voy'ger tempts stern Ocean's f^- ^vratll, \, Tlio' headland fade, yet, undismayed, He threads the crested path. Nor fears ; and why ? There, gleaming high, Behokl the index to his way ! When e'er he turns, there ever burns That calm, celestial ray. The Pole Star's T)eani it is, whose gleam Emboldens all his fond desires : He bounds the waste with ardent haste. If kindled be its fires. Should, now, his bark thro' regions dark Pursue the Northwind to his lair, 'Twill upward rise, surmount the skies, And glow, yet purer, there. If, now, the helm to sunniest realm The ever restive voy'ger brings, It downward wends, with ocean blends, — Yet near to memory clings. loS POEMS. What tlio' it siuk beneath the brink And perish to his earnest gaze '? He, wistful, sure, proclaims how i^nre, How quenchless is its blaze ! Thus Friondsliip's star. It shines afar, Assuring up life's treacherous zone : Let climates smile, it lives the while With constancy its own. BELATED. ; HEN, wandering from his cherished nest, cii The sM-allow seeks the needful rest That thick'ning nightfall brings. He, conscious of a watchful Power, Forgets the darkness o( the hour — xlnd folds his wearied wings. Nor yet laments his home the less ; But sleeps, that he at dawn may press On ere his 1ov(h1 one wake : That when the gilded morn shall burst He, of all eager songsters first, His homeward flight may talie. r - THE CHANGIXG OF THE TIDES. 109 THE CHANGING OF THE TIDES. f At the rising of the tides the vessels float away into deep water, aud the impatieut lishcrmeu dihgently ply their vocatiou.] I" SLEEP no more ! be true ! comrades, \ aM-akeii ! ^f^ The hour, so near the last, is full upon us ! 'itli ](n-ing arms tlie sea our bark hath taken : Let us make ours the fruit our watch hath won us. To slumber now, fair fortune 'twere despising. Then, comrades, up ! the tide, the tide is rising- ! This weary stay our very hearts would sicken. How blest the time the waters are foretelling ! If marked its healthful hue, your hearts will quicken ; See how the limpid waves come ever swelling ! For us a harvest full they seem devising. Then, comrades, up ! the tide, the tide is rising ! * * * * ^ * O, cheerily, the harvest spreads before us ! Forget, forget the hours of aimless leisure ! Such hours as this to fortune must restore us ; And to repletion hoard our bark with treasure. no POEMS. 'Twas for this golden hour our hearts were yearning. Then, comrades, haste ! the tide, the tide is turn- ing ! 'Twill soon be gone — be gone past our availing. How deeply ever after would we sorrow ! O, constant let us be, tho' strength seem failing : Our care shall vanish, joying on the morrow ! Bid all allurements hence, with lofty spurning : O comrades, toil ! the tide, the tide is turning ! * * -X- ■?«• -H- -St How distant seems our listlessness, our strain- ing ! Let's speak it o'er ; we'll call it but our dream- ing. We glide adown, empurpled day is Avaning, And far away our eddying path is gleaming ; Our hearts are very light, glad tones are calling. We heed not, comrades, tho' the tide be falling ! Our careless days are come, our toils sur- mounted ; Nor think we longer of the frequent changing. Our store is all within, untold, uncounted ; And we may sleep whilst those who slept are ranging. Did we not well, O comrades, thus forestalling The changeful tides — the rising, turning, falling ? IN REMEMBRANCE. IN EEMEMBKANCE. I OW shall I set a guard about my soul, To be at once a strong and sure '^^ defense ? As on the long, unnumbered years shall roll, How shall I shield each now un- sullied sense ? Of a perfection riv'Uing human art, I'll place an image in some secret shrine ; I have no dearer shrine than this pure heart. And it, receptive, makes that image — thine. Then sweet remembrances, — thy rightful due, — Like jDrecious incense round that cell shall wreathe ; The measure of all worth shall be in hue Those harmonies that I have heard thee breathe. How can my feet leave Honor's flowery path, Whilst, thus inshrin'd, thou hold'st that peerless IDlace ? How tread the weeds that Vice's broad way hath, In some base plain that thou wouldst scorn to Gfrace ? 112 FOE 31 S. In baneful revelry should sense cleliglit, Or tongue lend accent to the ribald jest, I'd ponder but thine eyes' reproachful bhglit — That stain might find no harbor in this breast. Nor could this hand in harsh oppression fall (Should lowliness attain to higli estate), In soft repose 'twould stay, whilst I recall When it, of thine, had summ'd the gracious weight. These are but idle thoughts — have ceased to live ; Such mean conceptions may not long abide : Dishonor shall not win, I will not give The sacristy thou keepest at my side. Such is the guard I'll set about my soul, Since it so tends to be my soul's defense. Come, long, unnumbered years ! whilst ye shall roll, A shield is set for each unsullied sense. ----K^K^ A THOUGHTLESS, BITTER WORD, (S>- — 14 POEMS. MAEJOEIE. 1 I- ITTLE Marjorie, Marjorie mine, Why do YOU sink in the velvet grass ? Why are you so secret in your design ? Come, show me that roguish face of thine. Why, why is this ? Little sunshine lass, On your dimpled cheek there's a glister- ing tear ; Your tremulous voice I can scarcely hear. '* Of the fuschia you've broken the tender stalk. As you swept it by in your heedless chase." There are fuschias yet by the garden walk, And myriads more in yon sunny space, That come of a loftier, haughtier race. Then brush the drops from your sparkling eyes : I'll lead you to others of richer dyes. Ah ! ** The loftier ones — you are careless of them. " And weeping again as your heart would break. This w^as at best but an arrogant stem, And small is the worth of the life you take, •' But it loved you so, for your own, own sake." " You granted it life by the pathway edge, And, grievingly, call it a broken i^ledge." 0, FLY THOSE MUSIC-BREATHIXG HALLS! ne Little Marjorie, Marjorie mine, Soon to walk life's path with a measured pace, Will your eyes ever grief like this inshrine, As you bow clown a heart in some wayside place, That dared to hope on, by your thoughtless gi-ace ? There's a dangerous light in your clearing eyes, And your cheek with the crimson fuschia vies ! ^-K}o<2«^ o. FLY THOSE MUSIC-BREATHING HALLS ! >-ck FLY those music-breathing halls, Mov'd by the soft, erotic flame ! To thee a sea of silver calls, And echos but thy name. Here for a time thy stay I would entreat, If thou wouldst hear the cadences that break In lingering, piteous pleadings at my feet : She waits— she waits for thee and dear Love's sake ! Il6 POEMS. Fly, fly on Love's swift wings : for, list ! A 'witching strain now floats above : Too soon thy beanty shall be miss'd, — They'll say, th' art fled with Love. 0, see for thee how thickly stars are spread ! They w^ait to catch the plea yon wave shall make As I have heard it here so often i)led : She waits — she w^aits for thee and dear Love's sake ! Then fly the halls of mirth and wine, Led forth in Love's persnasive name ! O, bend thine eager steps to mine — Led by Love's guiding flame ! Now thou art come, I fear I did deceive thee : What cadences are theirs from me they take. Then, dare my trembling hope in this believe thee, Fly, Love ! O, fly for her — for her dear sake ! LOVE'S INDEX. nj LOVE'S INDEX. HAPPY, happy fate That brought me to the wood ! To the rustling, leafy bower Of my lady fair and good ! I'll come within its shade and wait, — For soon she will appear. I win or lose, this sunny hour, My lady coming near ! Some flow'ret to caress She stops the way beside. dear volume that she read ! Let me from my ambush glide. 'Tis a poor lover in distress Upon its page that speaks. O, let me learn then how he pled, Ere she her bower seeks ! 1 open and behold The all-absorbing text : How the lover long laments — To my heart I lay it next. *Tis there, where 'tis so sweetly told, My dew'd syringas rest — 1 1 8 POEMS. And where loug- waiting love consents My parting violet's pressed ! "I love but thee alone." O violet, kiss the spot ! Let me to my ambush steal — That I gaze she'll know it not Until I claim her for my OAvn. She reads — O blushes rare ! I need no more my love conceal — My lady sees it there ! «<>G>€-->- BEDOUIN ROBBER AND STEED. |-L-TIEMAN, Il-Tieman, and wilt thon quickly rise '? For see ! the rosy-tinted morn flames up the eastern skies. I will offer up in Allah's name the morning's glad devotion : Before the burning sunbeams come across the Indus ocean I'll grasj) my scimitar and spear, my corselet round me fling ; And then, my ardent Arab-steed, upon thy back I'll spring ! Il-Tieman, Il-Tieman, whilst I slept into my dream There came a vision of a sj^oil from Oman's pearly stream. My heart in secret rapture melts with its bliss and happiness ! O princely steed, be ever true, as we o'er the desert press ! For we may wrest a goodly gain ere the glowing day is spent, And spread it forth for wondering eyes in Mok- allana's tent. J20 POEMS. Il-Tieman, Il-Tiemau, tliou hast found me ever- kind ; So when thou hear'st my low command, then be fleeter than the wind. I will breathe it in thine ear as I far away dis- cover The stranger's form, — nor by him seen. When dusky eve shall hover, Then let him sink again to dream of founts and beds of flowers, And his deep slumber shall be Death's — and his dreamings shall be ours. Il-Tieman, Il-Tieman, thou dost bound and proud- ly neigh. Fly from Eas-Fartak's rocky coast to Al-Akof's Inllowy way ! Frankincense fresh from balmy shores and gems from Muscat's mart, — If thou faint not, of these, my steed, thine be a gracious part ! On ! on ! thou ardent Arab-steed, upon thy back I spring ! Thy neck shall win a soft caress, thine ear witk praises ring ! THE WATCHER. 121 THE WATCHER. STKANGEll. AIDEN of the nightly shade, Why thy cheek so wan and pale .; By the dews of night o'ersprayed ? Gliding from the darkling vale, \ Shall Aurora of the dawn Ever greet thee wan and worn V PHANTOM. O, believe its pallid hue Finds within no answering chill ; And the pearly drops of dew Crystals are the airs distil ! Are the hours so nearly gone, Envious Mother of the morn '? STEANGEE. Maiden, why thy couch forswear, And these lonely vigils keep ? Harmful gifts the dark winds bear. Haste thee to a j^eaceful sleep. Let thy night in dreams consume. Dian, watcher, doth illume ! POEMS. PHANTOM. Through the silvery festoons, knit. Turn thine earnest, upward gaze. Note her, ever changing, flit, — So inconstantly she stays ! Musing in expectant bliss, Speeds Endj^mion to kiss. STKANGER. Maiden, what imports it thee. Lustrous night and moonbeam's glance? Why shouldst thou the watcher be Where wood-nymph and dryad dance ? Of some treasure art bereft Near the shadowy mountain-cleft ? PHANTOM. Where the last, long shadow dies, — Telling how the day is old, — All-concealed my treasure lies In the secret, darksome wold. Fawn and wood-nymph may not know Where my heart is buried low^ ! STRANGER. Maiden, hath the priceless heart Fled thy deeply stricken breast ? THE WATCHER. 'Tis some phantom then thou art, Want'ning with thy nightly rest ! Choosing hours that noisome be For tliine errant misery. PHANTOM'. Yes, 'twas priceless : yet I gave, Gave the heart that once v\'as there. Deep they laid them in a grave — Laid my heart and lover fair ! Ever nightly watch I keep Where my heart and lover sleep ! [23 — ^-^^05^s=iK^€^- 1124 POEMS. SONNET. L IDST ever thread, in the low Southern lif' ^^^^' ^' Some forest deep in sombre mosses clad, Until the sj^irit sank, subdued and sad ? And, O what rapture ! when, unthought, unknown. To burst into some glade where sunbeam shone ; Where orange flower, and chaste magnolia bade The wearied traveller stay, and, too, be glad And its endearing features make his own. Thus, Edna, had my tortuous byway wound Xiife's forestal and dusky depths, unlearned : I sighed its ^^•ide expanse had set no bound, Till to ,thy bright existence I had turned. Eor its compare, for scope with graces crowned, No sylvan scene this eye hath yet discerned. <^-^^Q>%-o DAVID AND ABSALOM. 125; DAVID AND ABSALOM. ("And the King commanded: Deal gently, lor my Bake, with the young man — even with Absalom.") HY doth high royalty forget its state, Cooling its feverish brow on frowning- walls ? "Why doth it loiter by the ponderous gate ? Why start anew as hurrying footstep falls ? And whence the apprehension that appalls The kingly face of him in kingly guise, Keeping his watch with fearful, constant eyes ? O monstrous deed ! the fratricidal hand Now lifts to strike a father's form to earth. Audacious pride has seen in dreams the wand Wrenched from the grasp of him who gave it. birth, Thinking to gild a manhood's fruitless worth : And now with foul intent, by folly led, Seeks e'en the crown on the anointed head ! The mandate has gone forth : " Ye of the Lord For Israel's king, and Israel's kingdom, arm !' And loyal breasts had flamed with true accord 126 POEMS. To shield the monarch from the threatening harm ; Yet his great captain, Joab, vaHant, calm, Bears from those lips the trembling, low attest : * ' Would ye might spare him of my house lov'd best !" And Joab had gone forth with conquering j)ower, Sinking ere noon-tide from the royal sight. Time onward speeds and soon must come the hour To tell him if the battle went aright ; And if the Lord yet tarried in his might. For this it is he watches at the gate- Forgetting self and dignity of state. Yet comes no missive from the struggling field. And day o'er Palestine with eve is blending : And who the victory claims yet unrevealed To him who feels within his breast contending Desire for vengeance on the oft oftending ; Then by a father's instinct decider stirred Almost forgives^ — forgetting how he erred. But whence the cloud that in tli' horizon shows ? Surely no tempest mars the waning day ? Ever it moves, and with each instant grows : DAVID AND ABSALOM. 127 It must be — 'tis a lierald comes his way Bringing good tidings of the ended fray ! He comes alone ! Auspicious tale expect, How all goes well, and serried ranks unchecked. Swiftly the runner leaps the fiery plain : Anon into tlie royal presence burst : " Great tidings bring I, King, of thousands slain ! And be rebellion ever thus accurst ! And death to him whose arm is lifted first !" One smile of triumph doth that face illume And then a darkest aspect doth assume. " Arise, thou panting herald, tell me, too, What tidings else beside the battle won. Bring they my captive foe in chains to sue ? My captive foe ! stern fate ! my yet loved son Too early taught the honored way to slmn ! Then let him come to meet a chastening hand. And learn they rue who slight a king's command." With awe the subject hears, steps back apace, Viewing the face Avliere mounting wrath held sway. Wrought to its pitch by thought of how disgrace Must tarnish all the honor of that day, When conquering hosts in pomp and war's array, 128 POEMS. Pass by their king ^vith hyinn and prayer devout> With banner spread to joyous victor's shout. He answering : ' ' Israel's ]<.ing I saw him not ; I waited but to see the conflict turn ; Thence speeded here in eager haste, and hot, Bringing such tidings as ye do but learn. And yet, methinks, so valiant son would spurn Long to outlive the all-disastrous strife — Setting no value to his hopeless life ! The king hears not : his gaze afar is fixed Low, where the desert knits the flaming sky : There, there, befoamed, the gate and sky betwixt, The Cuslii comes ! so swiftly comes he nigh, 'Tis with an eaglet's wing lie seems to fly ; Is near — is here — now in the presence kneels. And gasping speaks — the tidings all reveals. "Fierce was the battle, but the Lord prevailed ! Far fled the foe, and scattered as the chaH' When by Siroccos's deadly breath assailed— So are tliy foes before thy servant's wrath Blighted and whitening in rebellion's path ! And be it thus with all who scorn thy sway — The sleep of Ephraim's wood — in death's decay !" And David wejDt — his parent heart undone, " Would I had died, O Absalom, my son !" ^I^'^: SUNSHINE IN WINTER. SUNSHINE IN WINTER. INTER drear with Summer's smile : And we, joyous as the weather, Listening to the waves the while Rippling round the nestling isle. Pace the sands together. Bound in none save Fancy's chain 'Neath the frowning castle's wall ; Questioning tokens from the main As they come, to go again — And the shadows fall. Sinks the sun to wonted rest ; Bathes in warmth the chilling sea ; Silent we, each thought suppress'd As he nears the glowing west — Rich in imagery. Ere the parting rays be told See them, lingering, softly lie On my darling's brow of gold : So, so nearly they enfold — Seeming loth to die. List ! the deep and sullen boom ! 'Tis the day's dej^arting note. [29 POEMS. In assurance of its doom, Tlirougli the ever-gathering gloom Answering echoes float. Longer linger ere I seek Where may wandering fancy be ? Lest untimely word I speak, Bending low but touch the cheek — Breaks the reverie. Shine, O mellow moon and mild ! Be the homeward way pursued ! From the wintry day that smiled Tenderly I lead the child — By its thought subdued. -.^02^5S-i>.Q>^- THE AN A DEM. j^j THE ANADEM. HIS anadem, by age beset, Was once a regal coronet. You ask me how, and when, and where ? Well, well ! perhaps for me 'twere best To veil that Paradise, and there Bid Memory, nnrekindled, rest ! Nor feeding on the Past, again forget. Nay? Be it told? This dower. With all its wealth of faded flower, Was shaped for royalty. O now The mists dispel ; the taper light Of memory burns ; once more embrow The May -Day Queen with many a rite, With profuse, mimic pomp and well-feigned power. Yes, 'twas the springtime. Did I care I might portray its charms. How fair Was all the earth ! The opening year Smoothed Winter's front ; the blue above Was depthless ; so the river near. Flowing, and giving back the love The soft skies, stooping, seemed embalming there. And so, because she was its queen. And since so fair the sylvan scene, 132 POEMS. Her realm should be Arcadian, spy Sucli as was huntress Dian's : low, Some Yale where sparkling fountains plaj ; Where Helisson and Alpheius flow, Embraced by fringed banks of fadeless green. Such was her realm. Into her hand A favored courtier gave the wand She clasped. Trembling I stood afai-, Upon that face of gracious mould To gaze. To me as angels are Was she. My heart ! Shall it be told ? She willed that I should set this faded band ! Midst nymph and fairy shout I lay The crown of dewdrop sheen : away To dream ; when, oh ! from faltering Pride Is heard a winged mandate, flown To rev'ling subjects ; by her side Upwird she guides me ; on that throne, AYe Majesty's effusive paths essay. " Proud title should be hers ; some name Of true devotion — mine the same ? " " Be mine," I murmur, " true and bold. Capaneus dared, and so, for me, Be his ! " " And mine," she softly told, "Be mine, Evadne " — ah ! to see The sleeping embers 'neatli the eyelids flame ! LILY OF THE VALLEY. I'll brush this tear ! Well ! well ! each stem As withered as my hope ! no gem Of odorous dew reflects my gl nice I Up to its stained place of rest Consign it ! Let no future trance The Past's thick drapery molest I 'Twas Hermione wore von Anadem ! LILY OF THE YALLEY. {Return of Happiness.) ity:,k»-o':] M |^M|sECAUSE the World so coldly seemed to ISip frown, '^W^ He thought him in the darksome vale ^'o to hide ; ^ff He gladly hastened there — he flung him down, And o'er his i^ast and hopeless future sighed. When O ! he spies beside the grassy mound, Whose close confine restrains the rill's dark thread, 134 POEMS. A Lily of the Valley, too, had fonnd With some intent this spot its sweets to shed. O emblem of the modest, pure, sincere ! Art thou, too, strangely shrouded in some spell That keeps thee from each blooming, fair compeer To be with me an exile to the dell ? The Lily of the Valley gently bowed And gave from bounteous stores yet unconsumed. The evening zephyrs, hastening, went endowed And told afar the Lily yet perfumed. My home deep in the valley hath been made I uncomi^laining : and its depths disclose No answering tribute for my charms displayed— So in oblivion do my hours repose. But in its solitude I bloom content. Since haply, as hath thine, some step may wend Within its gloom, to find my beauty lent A quick reprieve where doubtings long contend. O Lily of the Valley, Avith new aim Let me the turmoils of the world engage ! For true submission win thy fragrant name, That mine, as thine, some happiest hour presage. SONNET. 135 SONNET. '^^^^M HERE is an attribute of nameless gauge That Stoic may repel, cannot refute ; Philosophy essay, nor yet compute : Its virtue this — perennial. Through each age It curbs the savage and corrects the sage, (Whose inconcinnities, whose schemes astute Corrupt their reasons), who esteem its fruit, "Which, if but plucked, matures at every stage. Man may protest, — he never can despise The tempting flavor of its wholesome cheer : If now unblest, yet blessed memories rise, And rise to soothe, be v/hatsoe'er his sphere. Its home, the heart ; its beacon-fire, the eyes. Affection 'tis — that gift without compeer. 136 POEMS. TO MYSIE. (With the Rosebud.) — — ^T^L ITHIN thy hair Tills rosebud bear : Let It thy many dream - lugs share : Though it be now the young and glistening morn, Far up the heated day let it be borne. If joyous, thou wilt have to spare ; If sorrowing, tell tli^ secret care — But love it everywhere. In early night When glances bright Are sped to measures of delight, Or mingled with a language low intoned. Still be it on its favored seat enthroned. Then hours, by some presumptuous right. Will, too, make pastime of their flight — Yet, still, its love invite. O Whisper deep ! When thou shalt sleep Place it where angers watchings keep : ARSINOE. And that shall be— where 'tis reposing now In ripening beauty — o'er thy blushful brow^ : And Night- wdnds, gazing as they sweep. Back to its uncuUed mates shall creep, And, envious, they shall weep. ^37 AESINOE. [Cffisar brought Arshioc to Rome ; but, feeling com- passion for the youthful princess, restored her to free- dom. — O. Com.] EAR Rome, in its splendor, the day is ; declining ; They have led forth the fair Alexan- drian maid : There she rests, like some statue, in pensive repining, Gazing deep down in Tivoli's foam- ing cascade. They mercifully leave her ; so, kindly befriending, They mercifully leave her, O unspeakable bliss ! 138 POEMS. There they leave her alone, with emotions con- tending ; Nor could friendslii]j devise kinder favor than this. Above her are palaces, loftily towering In settings of glittering, nnmatched colonnades; But she heedeth them not — 'tis in Tivoli's shower- ing That her soul seems enwrapt — 'midst the bright rainbow shades. O'er its olive-clad rampart she bends in her dream- ing. Now some thought, for its recompense, wins a faint smile : She hath seen in rude Tivoli's torrent, far gleam- ing* Some resemblance that mocks her own languish- ing Nile. Oh, unhappy transition ! 'tis the tempest fore- telling Of tears and of sighings woukl she now might restrain. For her thought on the deed of the morrow is dwelling, When, to grace the great triumph, she wears captive chain. ARSINOE. i-.^ " Can he ever be thus? bears that heart no relent- ing ? O, lead me to Cjiesar, I will deign to implore : He will weep in compassion, then in j^ity consent- ing Say, 'tis sweeter, far sweeter, than triumph in store." 'Tis by Kome : and again as the day is declining. Far adown gushes Tivoli's foaming cascade. And the one that dreams there, nor yet dreams of repining, Is the fair and nnshamed Alexandrian maid. 5^^K2>>[>§-- 140 POEMS. SONNET. W^ Wi HEjN on my brief existence I reflect, There seemetli made a safer path oi joy Than idly resting, and the hours employ With thought of past and future, detect, If I of dearest times past recollect, A shadow mingling in unasked alloy — 'Tis that they are no more : and, if I toy With those that yet await me, I suspect Inquiet longings. But, if I secure In present hours do their good exact My happiness is husband'd to endure. And through my life I blessings may protract : By this, it seem'th to me, my hours assure Tranquillity the others surely lacked. •-^t"><2*<^^oO€"^ THE MATINS BELL. l([l THE MATINS BELL. HE matins bell ! awake, Sleeper, awake ! Ere sliall be heard ^ The first shrill signal of awakening bird, y(^\ If thou hast err'd, ''k) ^^^* ^^^ ^'^^® breaking morn thyself be- t take ! The matins bell ! its music asks, Why doubt ? It claims thy j^rayer ; The sky's aflame ; dews gleam ; 'neath it repair, And, trustful, bear 'Midst earth's uplifted praise, thy prayer devout I Its melodies have died ; its tongue is still'd. Wiirt come again ? O pr'ythee, ere the sun gild spire and pane, Annul that stain ; And walk the day, thy soul with raptnre fiil'd ! <-^^0<2*^«2>oi>^- - - 142 POEMS. EPIGEAM. (Enforced absence.) TO . ||pl|ji;ND can it be ^i^ylol''^ That Time conspires to stay his gf^Wl flio-ht, 77\ ml %l\\^ ^^^ change for me, "•^il(s| The blessings of the grateful light '» To that doth so resemble night ? Ask some pale flower, Transplanted from the sun and dew. If sweet the hour ? No ! No ! 'twill cry, and weej^ anew. I am that flower transposed from you. --^#- — • SONNET. 143 SONNET. OME, doubter, climb with me yon dizzy peak. Thy gaze to'rd distant ocean first be bent : Then nearer, scanning Nature's wide extent, And what behokl'st ? "Bright riv- ulets that eke That ocean ; in woods of vocal tone seek Happiest inmates ; of wondrous hue and scent Bloom beds of flowers ; the fields, in colors blent, Stretched to immensity. All good bespeak ! Some hand to deftly limn these do attest. Too, of exhaustless skill ; these proof upbear Of intellect untold. Whose hand else drest The wave in silver, decked the hued parterre, Or taught the rhythm the vocalist expressed?" Such handiwork an All- Wise doth declare. -^^<3<<2s^sI>o{>^-^- J 44 POEMS. SONNET. ip) Ip^l'^ INE ears drink in tliy soul-outpouring- lay, Thou love-lorn Nightingale ! Me- thinks so, erst, Tliy spell came o'er me, and, by memory nurs'd E'en till this hour. Over Sorrento's bay, Wrapt in the mellowest tints of dying day, I hung with many musings. As 't did thirst For deepest sympathy, thy plaintings burst Upon the evening's stillness, 'died away, And left me marvelling. This summer-time Thou mad'st thy flight, — from Tasso's by ways woo'd, — And tell'st thy sorrows in a sterner clime. See, Philomela, earth again endued With much thou lov'st, with emerald fields and thyme, Then leave me not in more than solitude ! — K^K2-<2a^'S>{>#-> • TO A SUNBEAM. 145 TO A SUNBEAM. HOU trembling, molten beam Fresh from the fount of light ! ^ Didst thou leap the mighty span, 'Scai^e the chill and vaporous blight To sink with uncorroded gleam Upon the slumbering earth, And warm, again, her face so wan With hopes of spring-time birth ? Yet, tell me ere thou sink, And fetters thee enfold, In those spaces unrevealed, In those fastnesses untold, Dost thou of others else bethink In thine own bright attire ? And will they not there stay concealed If thou so soon expire ? Soft ! sunbeam, thou slialt know What answer 'tis I crave, — Now into my breast there came With the glow thy presence gave, A hope ; its beaming cheers me so I'd keep it long delayed. But if none other bear thy name I fear it, too, may fade. 146 . POEMS. SONNET. J2^PKEAD o'er the South, of balmiest gale» and bloom, There flowers a shrub that seems the veriest pledge Of beauteous constancy. If noxious sedge Encompass it, unmindful of the gloom With the weird fen's it mingles its perfume. The traveller, fainting at the wayside's edge, Shall not forget it : o'er the frowning ledge It waves undaunted. Nor did he presume Who in a burning and remotest land Hailed it, " O pride of India !" Oft for me. Pausing 'midst scenes all-lovely, memory sj)ann'd Eventful days and Nature's marquetry. And thou stood'st with me, Julia, and I plann'd What kinship bore this Pride of Inde to thee. A TRIFLE IT WAS, AS LIGHT AS THE AIR. 147 A TKIFLE IT WAS, AS LIGHT AS THE AIR. ( TRIFLE it was, as liglit as the air (And often and oft to recall it I've m^iTa^ tried) >^| klV That lost me forever a maiden fair, ^•{U And that banished my promised bride. > In time it was even, and calm and still, — Would our passions might sleep in such deep content, — And we stood by the crystal, laughing rill. And our tones with its murmuring- blent. A trifle it was, as liglit as the air, — Ah, thou en\ious sxiirit — genius of Hate ! Why bring me so grievous a burden to bear ? Why lay on my heart this leaden weight ? Of the years to come, and the years but flown, We had spoken and planned 'midst the starlight showers : She seemed even dearer and more my own For the future seemingl}'- ours. O the sweet delight of those starlight dreams ! What a mockery, too, of my ceaseless grief ! 148 POEMS. Then life flowed as tranquil as those soft beams That lodged in her odorous wreath. Some trifle it was, as light as the air : But whether it was I or my own dear love That changed life's bright day into night's despair Can she tell — or the stars above ? In a world so troubled it seems not right That fond lovers should part, and then not know why ; And that ties so strong from a cause so slight Should so weaken, and break — and die. Some trifle it was, as light as the air That the zephyrs wafted from Egypta's strand That tarried to toy with her fluttering hair, And her deepening blushes fann'd. And they say she waited — grew faint at heart : But that day I was proud, and I thought her cold. How I've sighed in vain, with miserly art, For the loss of that word untold. Some trifle it was, as light as the air, Disturbing life's waters that rested as clear As that crystalline lake called Leman, where The nightingale plainteth her fear. MV 31 ATE AND I. j^g I trust no shadow envelopes her hours ; And that life seems as fair as in those young days When we walked through the almost silent bowers With the cari^eting moonlight rays. Some trifle it was, as light as the air — And by each repented ere it onward sped :— To think that our lives should such shadows bear For a Avord — then a word unsaid. — -^;^-or>^^__ MY MATE AND I. Y^$i \ E come, my mate and I, belate I i She wears a blossoming robe of state ; W^'' '^'^^' too, what wealth of bloom and ^P health ^-'^ She's borrowed from each flower and elf: Keleased from chains we saw the light Subdue the long, forbidding night. I50 O, it was then so radiant when We heard the soul-outponring wren : " My joy be thine. O, come and twine In gay festoons each spraying vine ; The bellfiower sways, by airs caress'd ; The eglantine in beauty's drest !" In yonder glade we long delayed To note the spoil the Hybhean made. O, life of bliss ! wonld mine Avere this, — To every other care remiss, — To rove forever, and to sip The fragrance from the jessamine's lip ! We come, my mate and I, belate ; We but the morrow's coming wait : To call no need, for we shall speed, — Our pathway '11 be the flowering mead, — And shades shall even deeper lie Ere homeward we, my mate and I. — -^^^<<^-^--i>Ot^;-->-- THE BURIAL OF PIZARRO. THE BUKIAL OF PIZARKO. 151 [Pizarro, after an unprecedented career of conquest and cruelty, met the fate he so richly merited — the assassin's dag-o-er. The Cathedral of Lima (Ciudad de los Reges) was profaned hy placing his body beneath the altar.] '"""^'fejUDAD de los Reges ! \f Stand, for the coming dead ! fe^'sisp Onward the pageant rolls ; ^ Deep-toned the minster tolls — , Stand ye who bled ! Cindad de los Reges ! Gentle mother, hear it ! Gone is the blighting breath From the bold scourge of D?ath — Greet'st thou that spirit ? Ciudad de los Reges ! ■ • O, rather bid them cast Him forth upon the earth Whose heaven he made a dearth — And sinks at last. Ciudad de los Reges ! Bounteous treasure extolled, 152 P0E3fS. He, all-athirst, allured By dreams of gain, endured All for our gold. Ciudad de los Reges ! More merciful, less fell Condor on yonder peak, That from liis fastness bleak Swoops to the dell. Ciudad de los Reges ! 'Twas he — this son of Spain, Who left in blackened track Of iron hoof and rack Unnumbered slain. Ciudad de los Reges ! Thy Inca fetters bore Till death unbound the cluiin, Forged to the fearful strain Of battle roar. Ciudad de los Reges ! The father vainly kneel'd, And mother, for the child With piteous plea, and wild — His heart was steeled. THE BURIAL OF PIZARRO. Ciiidad de los Reges, The captive, too, implored — To meet the smile of Death ; And curse with fainting breath The name abhorred. Ciiidad de los Reges ! Bless'd mother, dost behold ? See! 'neatli the holy nave, And dome, and architrave. They bear his mould. Ciudad de los Reges ! What ! sleep beside the saint Whose hallowed life taught prayer ? Mingle his ashes there ? Their rest attaint ? Ciudad de los Reges ! Could then the vesper peal, Soothing the heart oi3press'd With ecstacy of rest, Invite to kneel ? Ciudad de los Reges ! Languish ^^ould every tongue ; Pallid grow every brow ; 153 154 Falter the rising vow By augiiisli rung. Ciudad tie los Reges ! The 'bated cry didst hear ? ' ' Back, menials ! from his path — Tempt'st thou his sleeping wrath ? The dead is near !" Ciudad de los Reges ! 'Neath altar, echoing dome, With Desolation's blade Pizarro lowly laid ! O shamed home ! — -€-^ — FALTERING. icr FALTEKING. HE nigLt, for promise spread, Lies darkly clouded : The river's throbbing thread Flows deeply shrouded ; The vault with starry gems engrained, The oVb that in her beauty waned, In gloom are dying ! For night and flood, for orl) and stars The winds are sighing. Blest harbinger to save, The gales are veering ! From flood and starry nave The mists are clearing ! The orb with beautous crescent dipp'd, The dancing wavelets, silver-tipp'd, Are ever vieing. Within my soul, O constancy, Dream not of dying ! -^^<5X^^^i>o{>^^ 156 POEMS. SONNET. had I planned tliy steps thou sliouldst not go. Thou canst not soothe me with the fond deceit That in some hast'ning year our iDaths shall meet, And joy be sweeter for this parting woe Than we have known — and else can never know. How sunless is thy smile's poor counterfeit ! And fainter grows thy heart's tale-telling beat ! This were not didst thou truly believe it so. Well, I will hush this moaning heart and bruised, Nor picture summer days and thou not here. — Thou veil'st thine eyes, with manful tears suf- fused ; They say, when thou art gone thou'lt yet be near. Press, lightly press this hand as thou art us'd. Go, and remember fcliou art doubly dear. -iEr>^xg^ — 157 dread aspect taught man SONNET. Assyrian monarch, to uphold his throne, Set it on man, carved in war's array. Whose threat'ninj to obey. That subject might not kindred awe disown, The Persian his, of gold and glittering stone, Upbuilt in crouching form of beast of prey : And millions cried allegiance — felt dismay, And curs'd a pride to impious excess grown. Beyond e'en these my Monarch's realm extends. My Master's state uprests on truth and love. O'er Asshur's grandeur desert-drift ascends,— My Master's mounts th' empyrean heav'n above: O'er Elam's buried pomp his lion wends, — High soars my Master's gentle symbol-dove. -'^^>Q>^-o 158 POEMS. THE DREAMERS, HIS cliild, in pleasant byways kept, And sees life an unchanging May, ^ Forgot her mates ere sunbeam slept, And stole to me away. Upon my kindly face and grave She glanced, and then upon my knee Its rest her wearied head she gave, Half singing musingly. She very often seeks me so, — I think because my face is grave : She thinks I'm busied with the gloAV That silvers o'er the Avave. That on some orb my thought is set: So, struggling with its quaint conceit, And busied so must needs forget The dreamer at my feet. And so she sings, or murmurs o'er Some fancy I have given tone ; And murmurs it to love it more And make it more her own. THE DREAMERS. Than all the j^leasant hours are There is an hour endeared to me — When fancy leaves the wave and star For dreamer at my knee. As thus : what devious paths — say fair — Of leagues untold its feet must tread ! Where shall it then, oppress'd with care . Thus lay its drooping head ? Will joy be her unbroken task (Such as to be these hours she finds), And shall she but in sunshine bask Until her day declines ? Shall thought beneath this shining brow To images of beauty turn ; Or fan a flame that slumb'riug now Needs but a breath to burn ? Shall this fair hand, all zeal, engage To do the mandates of the heart ; And trace the ever-living page With Poesy's deathless art ? Or shall she, nameless, walk serene To shed abroad her woman's grace, And bring contentment to the scene That's most a woman's place ? »59 l6o POEMS. "Wonlcl Heav'n for me— Heav'n stay the prayer ! 'Twere best that thought no uttr'ance gave ; 'Twere best it now from dreamer bear Its dreaming to the wave. ON CONTENTMENT Horace : Ode 1, Book 3. ^QEEOM him of low desires, iincared to rise, "Sfe^ "»N^ My soul revolts — from him I turn my pm eyes. j|^ In silence listen, words unheard be- ih^ fore, *• Ye youths and virgins, in your ears I pour. Dread sovereigns o'er their subjects have control ; The kindred giants Jupiter extol, "Who with his nod the realm of Nature shakes, And at whose glance the haughtiest Titan quakes. Because, forsooth, this man in goodly row Beholds in thrifty bloom his forests grow. ON CONTENTMENT. jgj He lays liis claim to nurture well tlie state : The second protests— argiies happier fate From him within Avhom growing honor lies And his own worth and virtue loudly cries : The third prefers his right— to long contend And boast how myriads on his store depend. But Fate, by all-impartial, 'fixed laws, Eevolves the urn, each name unbiased draws. How can that man his revelling hours enjoy When hangs a point with puipose to destroy ? Can the Sicilian dainties relish bring If o'er his brow the deadly dagger swing ? The tuneful lyre, the birds with soothing songs Bring not the soft repose for which he longs. Sleep to the peasant is a frequent guest, And in his cottage loves to linger best : If at the dawn he fly his barless doors. At eve returns from Tempe's zephyred shores. He with a competence, assur'd, possess'd. Views the tempestuous sea— nor feels distress'd: Arcturus in his wrathful fury sets, Yet, in his heart no anxious doubt begets. No vineyard he to tempt the ruthless hail ; No waving fields to droop before the gale ; No fruitful lands, with bounteous rains sul:)merged, Or else liy rays from fiery planets scourged. The swift finn'd tribes, that mighty waters range. 162 POEMS. Behold the sea's foundations ever change ; And k)rdly man, disdainful of the land, Sends down the chosen hirelings of his band : Yet apprehension ne'er forsakes his mind — Care mounts the galley as the knight behind. Since then, nor Phrygian block, nor gay attires. Bring the contentment that my soul desires ; Falernian vine, nor yet the Persian herb Drown not the troublings that my hours disturb, Shall I some lofty edifice erect, — Since I the breath of envy must expect, — With peerless column, modern taste adorned, To hear my niotive and its beauty scorned ? Why give contentments of my Sabine Vale For troubles oft ]30ssessed wealths entail ? — ^-^<}o<2^ps2:K5>#- — TO THALIARCHUS. ,5^ TO THALIAECHUS. Horace : Ode 9, Book 1. sEHOLD Soracte clad in sdows ; I The woods their leafy burdens cast ; Nor longer on the river floAvs — Frost's icy sharpness binds it fast. Dispute the cold : pile high the blaz- ing boughs ! O Thaiiarchus, forget not your vows ! To cheer the coming youths afar The cheerful flames now upward twine. Now, Thaiiarchus, from the jar Pour out the generous, ruby wine. Leave to the gods the vexious ills of life : Think you no more must mingle in the strife. When winds the fervid ocean lash The vales in peace repose, The cypress and the aged ash Forget their coming woes. To ask the morrow's hap forbear : Treasure this hour's unquestioned gain : — Come, fill the cnp,— nor think to share This draught with any future pain. Joys of the young, O pleasant love and dances, Abide with us, affrighting Time's mischances ! 1 64 POEMS. As on the mellow hours glide, The song and whisper oft repeat — As in the hour of eventide Where Tiber laves our Martius' feet. Give you no heed whence sweetest echo wends, — Well with the mirth coy damsel's laughter blends. He'd seize some token from her arm, — Since eye in vain appeal'd, — What hour so fit to win a charm, Contending love would yield ? TO QUINTIUS DELLIUS. HoKACE : Ode 3, Book 2. •«®. ^ m^^ W DELLIUS, repel not from your mind That life, a dream, by you must be resigned. Since this is so, your stores of joy ex- I If you bethink its changings to with- j stand : Do not shrink under Fortune's angry frown, — The fruitful germ the husbandman cast down, TO QUINTUS DELLIUS. 165 Which, lying hidden long in deepest gloom Sprang forth, bore fruit, and gladdened with its bloom : Nor yet, if viewing some unhoped result, Think o'er your friend, less happy, to exult. If nurturing sadness in remotest spot, Or, if to pleasure gods your hours allot And lead you on to some inviting vale "With ease and wine your hours to regale. While you recline within some grateful shade, The lofty pine and hoary poplar made, And uj^ward gaze as sunny cloudlets flit, Or drink with rapture from the rivulet. It is decreed, and these change not your fate — Our hours the coming Sisters but await ! Bid slaves bring wine, perfumes of wondrous cost: Not for a future let this day be lost. "Think, Dellius, depart, and soon, you must ; With you your treasures crumble not to dust. O no ! a longing and impatient heir Makes them his waking and his sleeping care ; Surveys your villas and computes your groves, And, penniless, expectant master roves. It matters not if sprung from humblest race, Whose ancestors no ancient records trace ; Nor yet could Argos claim thy noble sire — Prom this fair scene you surely shall retire. 1 66 POEMS. All are alike — unsheltered from the air ; And envious Pluto takes all for his share. Remorseless Fates yet turn the restless wheel, And Atroj)os yet grasps the severing steel Too soon to cut the unresisting thread — Forth from the breast the living spark hath fled I Our destiny — born, linger here a while ; Embark with Charon for a long exile ! TO LICINIUS MURENA. HoKACK : Ode 10, Book 2. 9JrUM |f ICINIUS, life's ocean you may tempt, h i h. fl ^ If you with prudence shall its paths explore. Guide not your bark where perils ne'er exempt, Nor yet, too timorous, press the threat- ening shore. There is a path, in it you safely dwell — The placid current 'twixt the chafing strands ; The virtuous mean that shuns the hermit's cell, — Nor asks the i^alace envied greatness plans. TO LI CI NI US MURENA. 167 Th' aspiring pine met first tlie whirlwind's rage ; The loftiest tower fell heaviest to the dust ; The tempests first opposing mounts engage, And deep within their forked lightnings thrust. Discerning souls hope on whilst least they may, And banish hope when most they hold the right; The taper pales its beams before the day, — To shine tlie clearer at the hastening night. Depressing Winter, with his hoary train, Great Jupiter sends forth — to soon recall ; Though luckless venture now deny you gain. No kindred fate your future's may befall, Apollo lulls him with Euterpe's art. And drinks the trarisj)orts of the modest Muse ; He flings aside his bow aad cruel dart, Whilst in his breast her softest strains diffuse. Bring forth your treasures wlien you need your friend ; And happiest be wlien happiest thoughts avail. 'Twere best, Licinius, when the sails extend To watch for changings of the prosperous gale. 168 POEMS. OUT ON THE MYSTIC SEA. I. "^ 5is±5k ,» UT on tlie mystic sea Far, far from me ; ~^^ Down, doAvn a sunset sea by zephyrs fann'd — Cradled to sleep. When from the west the ruddy wave- lets flow, When at the eve the dying tintings glow, Thy trysting keep ! A cry, a wafture of a jewell'd hand— Out on the mystic sea Lost, lost to me ! Over the mystic sea The false-rose came to me ; A lowering, sunless sea it came across. Its bloom distiird : A love that's yet unpledg'd another woos ! In warmer strain than thine another sues ! My heart was chill'd. Back ! haste thee back, where mocking wavelets toss — Back to the moaning sea — Dark'ning to me ! our ON THE MYSTIC SEA. HI. 169 Up from the mystic sea The heart's ease came to me ; A melting, sunset sea 'twas wafted o'er — To lull my fears : I breathe of thee to each departing wind ; I bathe this emblem to the waves consigned, With Love's own tears ! Than this, so gladdening missive never bore The wondering sea — Heark'ning to me. 5^pS2K>^~ 170 ^^ POEMS. TO GROSPHUS. Horace •. Ode 16, Book 2. GROSPHUS, luckless is the mau allur'd To the wide ^gean, night's bright orb obscur'd. With not one star the hidden course to mark And promise safety to his tossing bark. In such dark hours his heart one refuge knows — To pray the gods for s ifety and repose. So, for repose the war-worn Tiiracian cries ; And 'tis for this the quivered Median sighs — To find, alas ! the gift is not secure, Nor sword nor ransom yet its charms procure : Nor princely bribe, nor deputy can bind And banish tumult from the burdened mind. For peace that man a good foundation lays Whom yet delights the board of humbler days. For sordid wishes plenteous vaults to lieaj) Mar not his day, nor trespass on his sleei^. Why do we, by our arrogance mislead. Hoard up a store that others use instead ? Why fly our climate, 'neath another sun Begin a task, to vanish ere 'tis done ? Whoever yet from country an exile TO GROSPHUS. 171 Persuaded Care to linger home the while ? He would not listen. Care, consuming Care Boards, too, his shij), and will his exile share : Than stag more fleet, or yet the Orient's wind, Care soon o'ertakes him, though delayed behind. A mind at rest, and joyful for its state. Asks for no more, and thanks the watchful Fate. In patience walks the fiery hours of trial ; And views correction with a placid smile. And feels how true it is, how oft express'd That not with life is man completely bless'd. Achilles died — nor yet for death mature ; Tithonus lived — but youth could not endure ; And time may me from countless ills defend, And yet to you no courtesies extend. For, now, towards you the waves of fortune flow — Flocks loudly bleat, Sicilian heifers low ; Your steeds in costly traj^pings swiftly fly ; And vestured you in robes of Tyriau dye. But Fate my arts have never yet suborned — She found me lowly, keeps me unadorned. Yet this she grants, more prized than robe of down, — A secret spurning for the rustic's frown : And this besides, — than this I would not choose, — A silent hour with the Grecian Muse. 172 POEMS. EXQUISITE DKAPEEIES HANGING IN THE WEST. (JTJNE THE T^^'ENTY-SECOND. ) J5 XQUISITE draperies hanging in the west, ^■^a Of pui'i^le, yellow, and the warmest red. Long journeyed he who burning sank to rest. J "Tell me, what day is this so sweetly J dies ? Comes such another ? Too, too soon 'tis sped !" In answer whisper, whilst the soft, dark eyes Break from the colorings of the western skies, *' Year's longest, fairest, happiest day is dead.'* >-^^mI>=Q>%^ THE HOURS. ^7i THE HOURS. HERE is an all-enraptiiring liour — When morn (the sea and sky ascencl- ^ ing Since rousing from his Orient bower) AVith a more constant hue seems blend- ing. The ruddy hour is youth — when joy At childhood's every prayer comes thronging. The change — when ripening years alloy With promise of a worthier longing. There is an hour — the full noon hour — With myriad forms the ocean whit'ning : That laugh at Tem^Dest's threatening power — Their present toil some future bright'ning. The scene responds to life : the forms At hazard with life's heartless ocean Are manhood's — heedless of the storms, And ardent for the wild commotion. There is an hour — a silent hour — That's sacred to the evening's shading. This sunbeam sighs that shadows lower ; With true submission this is fadiner. 174 POEMS. The too soon hour is age ; regrets Mayhap enfold with ceaseless thronging. The change — when drooping age forgets Its nearest for a worthiest longing. ON HIS OWN WOKKS. Horace : Ode 30, Book 3. ^ CKOWN my finished monument. I^c. It shall endure though long be- spent The Northwind's unavailing power And the insidious, wasteful shower : Nor Years in unrelaxing might, Nor Seasons in recurrent flight Cast it with their destroying hands To mingle with the ruthless sands. I shall not die ; my better part Calls not for Libitina's art. AVhile priest and vestal shall ascend The Capitol, so long contend Successive ages to prolong Praises to my melodious song. I AM DYING, EG YPT, D YING. 1 7 r Where Aufidus with cheerful mirth ('Twas thus he murmured at my birth), Leai)s o'er the plain with rapid stride ; Where Daunus' thrifty sons reside Shall it be said : By minstrel tongue Were softer measures never sung ! In wonderment that my refrain Can woo the coy ^olic strain. Melpomene ! the praise be thine, Since I may wear the Delphic vine. I AM DYING, EGYPT, DYING. (Antony and Cleopatra.) |- AM dying, Egypt, dying ! 'K2^^=iK>^ — SONNET. j-y SONNET. j^jlKllT times, on day of fervid Summer's l? ^J| reign,— J^^ When in sore anguish droop'd each ''?|!\W thirsting i3lant ijeA As quite despairing,— then, behold, f aslant ♦ The long drawn beams, tliat for no in- stant wane Until their fount yon glowing verge attain, Fall tiny streamlets, whose rich graces grant Keviving draughts for which the full fields pant, And new existence to the velvet plain. O healthful influence of the bursting shower- Scarce dim the sunshine, bring the earth relief, Lend each beam beauty, verdure darker green ! Must cloud hang o'er thee thus I'd have it lower : To thine own blessing spend its wholesome grief— And give the freshness of the sunshower scene. -^^O<2«|^2>o{>f-o I7S POEMS. TO THE ROMAN PEOPLE ABOUT TO ENGAGE IN CIVIL WAR. Horace : Ode 7 of the Book of the Epodes. \ HY, O impious men, tins haste ? Go ye forth again to waste Store of Roman blood ? Have ye not too oft bedewed Field and ocean's solitude With a crimson flood ? Shame upon ye that ye turn Not where men of Carthage spurn That ye long delay ! That yon Briton yet disdains Power of legion, nor in chains Treads your sacred way. Will ye give the Partliian joy ? That ye thus your swords employ Thrills him with delight : See ! he cries, our haughty foe Deals himself the deadly blow — Toj)j)les in his might ! TO THE ROMAN PEOPLE, dc. ijg Think ye ! in the brutish race Did ye ever, watchful, trace Deed like this defined ? Wolf and lion for the mate Show compassion — sjjend their hate ■Give the answer, nor withhold : If by madness, crime, controll'd Or the restive arm ? All are silent ; faces pale Ere the guilty soul X3revail — Urging on to harm ! By a stern fatality, Eomans, must this ever be ! So, ye stand dismay 'd ! 'Twas for this our Remus sank ; That the earth a torrent drank Fresh from brother's blade ! -^K><2^ iSo POEMS. HYMN. I. [r Y Lord, my guard, my watolier, and my guide. Thou ever present, ever faithful ^^^ friend, Than thee what refuge have I else be- side ? Y'et I've no merit that can me com- mend. II. Doth not thy love from love like mine revolt ? I give thee chiding when I owe thee praise, Though grieved thou striv'st to mend each harmful fault. I wound thee in a thousand needless ways. III. I see thy wondrous X30wer. I know the hand That set the earth and heavens must be divine. The glittering hosts wheel on at thy command ; No will rebellious to thy wiU— save mine. HYMN. l8i IV. The deep-stirred ocean symbols forth thy wrath, And thunders but reverberate thy tone ; Thy glance would be the lightning's withering I)ath, And all revere thee — all save I alone. Thy generous gifts unstintedly are poured ; I them at morning, noon, and eve expect. I take these gifts — and pass thee unadored. Canst thou spare me and this, too, recollect ? VI. Down, down, sad soul, in thy humility ! A barren homage 'tis thou pay'st at best. How can He more extend his gifts to me ? Sink, head, upon the now tormented breast ! >^— [82 POEMS. ALTERA AND MAEIGOLD. EEGAL, royal Marigold, My secret I may not unfold ! When came the far-ontrnnning beams I broke me from my drowsy dreams ; I sought thee — of the dawning hour The proudest and the queeuliest flower. heartless, heartless Marigold, My dream of dreams shall not be told ! Thy blooming mates have called in vain : 1 brushed them by in quick disdain. Stay ! stay ! cries sweetest Mignonette, Why these surpassing charms forget ? While Marjoram, in arts unlearned. Her thought in artless blushes burned : Nay ! echoed Amaryllis, nay ! Not from my splendor turn away ! And I : My eyes the dewy glance Of Marigold shall soon entrance ! O comrades of the summer field. Shall it the rapturous answer yiekl ? In semblance hers, too, doth there dwell A heart to love her lover well ? They mocked me ; vowed thee, Marigold, What I have found thee — cruel, cold ! SONNET: FOR JANUARY. 183 SONNET : FOE JANUAEY. "^^^ HE disen thralled and uncoriiipted band Sweeps down from chilling realms. Its store expends In one symphonioiis whole. The prospect blends : And lo ! the panoply by Grandeur planu'd, With moor reluctant to the swain's demand, In purity harmoniously lends An unmatched, surfaced tablet, that contends To take the tracings of the Master-hand. And thus the soul, by nobler, pure desires Its lavish or its meaner dress conceals By fairer asj^ect : and, new born, aspires To purjioses this fresh emotion yields. And all bewonder'd muses j^ast attires — And wondering, germs of excellence reveals. <-^<5oS>#-o [84 POEMS. UNKECONCILED. WAS in the eventide She, wistful, ever tried To whisper what they said might be my name. They led me to her side With blanched face and flying stej). I came — To see her smile, and fold a lifeless frame, And be my name denied. It was a cruel blow. And when I told them so. They sadly smiled, and said, Mayhap 'tis well. But then how could thei/ know ? I, in fierce anguish turning, bade them tell How all-progressive time could break the spell Of my immortal ^\oe. 'Tis well ?— I'll not beheve ! Such words shall never weave Attuned cords to suit my heart's refrain : Would that I might conceive The sun to sink forever 'neath yon plain, — So careless am 1 if he rise again, So deeply, deeply grieve ! SONNET. l3t SONNET. (To , with the Odes of Pindar.) Ijl^ HE Macedonian prince, his rage to sate, Gave up the Cadmean town to dread- -'t fill flame ; ;fjN And thought by horrid act his foe to tame t And feed base pride ; unwitting* that, innate, In lowly hovel, so on throne of state There is a power in a worthy name. Such now before the monarch's reason came, And mercy show'd to grace his deed of hate. Whose wrought revulsion, and could pity urge ? It was our poet's — him thou'lt now peruse. Oft in my bosom waves of scorning surge, — Since men the evil, not the better choose, — To sink anon ; in kindlier aspect merge : 'Tis Avhen upon thine honored name I muse. I [86 roEMS. INVOCATION. ^liW>-° OLHYMNIA, sweet, meditative Muse, 1B|I^^ Wilt thou forsake me ? Wilt thou, then, iV£/'-.'\^ reiuse ,^ To fan within this breast the subtle flame 1^^ With thy quick breath ? O rash, unfruit- ^^V ful aim — To sweej) the strings when thou art far away, Hoping for strains responsive to the lay ! Thou art more near : in night's deep, silent hour Choosing to contemplate. Behold, thy power The flickering flame awaits ! Thou drawest near, And Poesy, exultant, quells her fear ! O, let thine own soft presence, 'till the dawn Presents the steeded chariot of the morn, Linger about me ! least he come, undimm'd. To note my lyre unstrung — my theme un- hymn'd. ^'-^^XS^^f^^S^Cr^^ LINES. 187 LINES. The sense of death is most in apprehension,"— M. for M. ''^^^^ HEN wayworn and o'ertasked, 'tis well for tliee -iLLa^Tvy^ To cast thy frame on downiest of beds ^i§^P While wafts the sj^irit o'er obliAdon's sea, 4vw^ Or takes some path which it, delight- ed, treads. Did memory grieve — belike the grief 's forgot ; Thy hope high winging — yet it npward dares ; If thou art humblest — now it frets thee not ; And here is rest for him of weightiest cares. Wouldst thou withhold from sleejo's encircling arms Because it sought thee with uniDromised date ? Would wakefulness, environed by its harms, Not seem to thee by far a sterner fate ? Since death's a dateless sleep, Ave need not dread The dear employments of the liapi:)ier dead. -o{>€— POEMS. SONG. [Knight of the Twelfth Century.] t 1^ Y king is proud : his fleur-de-lis Floats from liis foeman's loftiest wall. y\Nj^ Saint Louis is the brimming pledge In yon ancestral hall. My steed is proud : he gladly neighs His neck of gold in fealty curves ; He bears to list of knightly fray The mailed knight he serves. My heart is proud : for Beauty's sake I set this day a trusty lance. I die ; or on my breast I wear The loveliest flower of France. THE BATTLER. THE BATTLER. 189 "^^^BsM HE Battler gazed tlie table round, Then fell his heavy hand : !^,Now by the tomb and by the cross The Moor shall leave the land : I nightly vow it in my dreams ; I swear it when I waken : The infidel shall fly this realm — Toledo town be taken ! Then brighter grew each liegeman's eye, And darker grew each frown. As, breathing forth his haughty threat, The Battler sat him down. Dead silence reigned within the hall, As filled each ruby cup. Then right, then left, each grandee gazed, • And to his feet sprang u\i. Now in the name of our Castile, Now by thy kingly name. It was for this with ringing hoof My fiery charger came ! If thou speak'st truth, by plume and spur, The dusky Moor shall rue The hour he sx)urned his desert home And cross'd yon sea of blue ! [go POEMS. Deep, deep they drink : the Battler now Pushed far his chair of oak To clasp with iron clasp each hand, — 'Twas thus again he spoke : Ere set of sun at morrow eve A puissant horde shall near ; They come to greet Toledo town With banner, strain, and sj^ear. Out boldly si^oke Gallicia's son : From snowy fastness, I : Than not to draw a freeman's breath 'Twere better far to die ! We are a numbered band and brave. Nor long may stay the shock. But let us keep at morrow eve ^Toledo's guardian rock ! 'Tis well ! the Battler cries, 'tis death ! Get each man to his shrine, And ask, with fervid prayer, a charm — As I'll away to mine : I'll bid my charger to it straight — Deep in the wood confin'd. I speed a score of leagues this night Of beating rain and wind ! THE BATTLER. The vizor hides the burning eye ; He turns upon his heel — Across the court and swinging bridge Is heard the ringing steel. He flies ; and all unreined he knows, — That gallant steed he rides ! He'll bear the Battler to his shrine With long and trusty strides. On, on (so hours) 'neath roaring top Of leaf, and sighing bough, — That untired steed has checked his flight- The shrine's before him now. The Battler's hand's upon the door : What is't his eyes shall greet, That gives his eyes a softer light, His heart a quicker beat ? The Battler's little daughter 'tis. Deep hidden in the wold ; A menial's watchful care is she, With mother-care untold. He knows that she must sweetly sleep, — As when he's gazed before To lend his arm that ardent strength, A deadlier name to war. 191 [92 POEMS. With folded arm yet ponders lie Where long the lashes rest ; Bends low to meet the rising prayer The parted lips express'd : ' ' Jesu, when in the lonely night The Battler rides afar That harm befall him not, I pray He be as angels are." A treacherous tear from Battler's eye, The rounded cheek alarms ; An instant — and that childish form Sways in the warrior's arms : * * * -x- * * Through darkling wood, thro' bridgeless stream Cries out a form of steel : Come forth with Battler, comrades all, We conquer for Castile ! LAKE AXD WILD- FOWL. jg3 LAKE AND WILD-FOWL. tfi*^^^^ IGH ia the leaden skies, .' Darkening the icing lake, £*{|S^*"^ See, see the wild-foAvl rise ! ^y\^ Knowest thou where 'tis he flies ? P|V AYliy he should me forsake ? I I have seen, I have seen down tlie lowering bky. White messengers flit on the blasts that a^vake ; And I go where the far-darting sunbeams yet lie, On the berrying brier and the ripening brake. List to the cry he gave ! Ere down the gale he wings ; Ere in the cloud he lave, Soaring above the wave, Wliat is the dirge In^ sings ? Fare ye well, fare ye well, thou Avert dear to my heart : Then I laved in your ripples and deep, flowing springs, — Now cold art thou grown ; I in sadness depart, For my everglade home — where the trailing moss clings. 13 194 POEMS. High in the leaden skies, Darkening the icing lake, See my Inconstant rise ! Care I not where he flies, So he can me forsake. '^^w^'L r^- THE BATTLEFIELD. (Gettysburg.) ■M^ff WALKED the battlefield,— a smiling 'M'lr^^l ■'._ plain '<2=^iB2>>{>gK<. I' I N I S . 'trW ^^,i. , . if .•^' ,^vW,