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WILLIAM AVATSON WALDRON. 
 
ATALA; 
 
 OR, 
 
 LOVE IIST ^ DESERT. 
 
 A Metrical Indian Legend. 
 
 AND 
 
 OTHER POEMS. 
 
 BY 
 
 WILLIAM WATSON WALDKOX, A.B., 
 
 AUTHOR OF "HUGUENOTS OP WESTCHESTER/' " IRVING AND COTEM- 
 PORARIES," ETC. 
 
 " I versify events, not poetize." 
 
 Old Play. 
 
 PUBLISHED FOR THE AUTHOR. 
 
 New- York 
 
 THOMAS WHITTAKER, 
 2 BIBLE HOUSE. 
 
.IV 4 
 
 ^- 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 Atala. 
 
 Canto I . , 
 Canto II. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 .. 7 
 ...20 
 
 Miscellaneous Poems. 
 
 St. James's Churcli, Fordliam ^* 
 
 In Memory of J. D. Wolfe 38 
 
 To the Prince of Wales 40 
 
 From tlie Greek ^^ 
 
 In Memory of Annie E. Buslinell 43 
 
 Hymn...; 44 
 
 Watcliman, what of the Xight ? 45 
 
 Sister of Charity 4G 
 
 Adam's Morning- Hymn 49 
 
 When shall I pray ? 51 
 
 Weep not for Him '^~' 
 
 In Memory of Joseph Walker 54 
 
 On viewing- the Interment of L. B. Smitli 56 
 
 Jephthah's Vow 57 
 
 Hour of Love 59 
 
 Greenbank "^ 
 
 Chieftain and Child 61 
 
 Landing of the Normans 63 
 
 Wreck of the Arctic 64 
 
 Address to George IV 6G 
 
 Acrostic 
 
 6^ 
 
 What is Life ? 68 
 
 Last Lav of the Minstrel '^^ 
 
PEOEM. 
 
 The subject of the principal poem, in this collection, was 
 suggested when translating, from the original, the beautiful 
 tale of Chateaubriand which bears the same name. While 
 thus employed, the idea occurred how suitable might the 
 subject be to poetic numbers, and with it that some favored 
 child of song would attune his harp to the praise of Atala. 
 Such desire not being responded to (for what bard ever 
 waked his chords thus to melody?), the following poem was 
 the result of the refiectiou. In investing the heroine in a 
 new garb, and introducing her, so arrayed, to the world, the 
 author must submit to the kindness of friends and the judg- 
 ment of the public. The shorter pieces were suggested by 
 the various subjects they are designed to illustrate. 
 
ATALA 
 
 CANTO I. 
 
 And who is slie — the blue eyed southern child, 
 
 Of clime more known to man, but scarce less wild? 
 
 High-born (a birth at which the herald smiles, 
 
 Without a 'scutcheon on his length'ning files ), 
 
 Of a long race, the valiant and the free — 
 
 Pure offspring- she of savage chivalry." Byron. 
 
 At gray-eyed morn, briglit noon, or dewy eve, 
 'Tis truly wise the busy throng to leave. 
 And list to tales that lead the mind to grieve 
 O'er virtue's trials ; e'en her very tears 
 More precious are than vacant smile that cheers 
 The midnight revel.— Then, my Muse, on wing 
 Aerial, come : attune the minstrel string 
 To strains immortal, yet what mortals sing. 
 Of kings I trow not : princes, heroes brave. 
 Who, through the paths of gh^ry, seek the grave. 
 The last asvlum of the lord and slave : 
 
-« ATALA. 
 
 To things so lofty ne'er my soul aspires, 
 Tlie forest children limit her desires, 
 Needing nor angel voice nor seraph lyres. 
 
 A peerless maid I sing — the Muse commands ; 
 A daughter of the sun, throughout all lands 
 In story famed. On her had bonnteous Heaven 
 Conferred those gifts but rare to mortals given. 
 Pare as the virgin snow she stood confest, 
 No troubled waves to agitate a breast 
 Where every virtue found a safe abode, 
 No fiend to torment, canker to corrode ; 
 Each aspiration breathed alone for God. 
 
 III. 
 
 The chords I touch for him who gained the heart 
 Or Florida's fair child : he used no art, 
 No charm, no spell save such as nature sends 
 When into one two kindred souls she blends. 
 The flame was mutual — each for other burns ; 
 How blest when heart to heart such flame returns ! 
 They name it friendship, love ; Heaven either sends ; 
 Say, say, where one begins, the other ends ? 
 
 In those fair regions when the white man came 
 From realms beyond the deep, it lives in fame 
 
ATALA, 
 
 That Atala, a daughter of the wild, 
 Wacousta loved— a guileless forest child ; 
 From hostile tribes they sprang : a Natchez he ; 
 She, from the Seminoles, of high degree ; 
 Her father was a sachem : he (the loved) 
 A captive. Whom has love divine not proved ? 
 
 V. 
 
 Wacousta in a border fend was ta'en, 
 
 And to an aged elm, with ozier chain, 
 
 Most straitly^bound : before the dawn of day 
 
 It was decreed, another solar ray 
 
 lie never more should view ; but Heaven's decree's 
 
 More potent e'en than those which monarchs please. 
 
 And still her guardian angels hover round 
 
 Declaring, ''Mercy seek and mercy's found:' 
 
 VI. 
 
 While the lone captive lay, in soft repose. 
 Fond dreams, of by-gone days, assuage his woes ; 
 The placid smile that played around his brow 
 Declared he thought of other scenes than now. 
 He felt his bonds relax and fain would rise, 
 But sleep, the wretch's friend, still sealed his eyes; 
 He wakes, but does he wake among the free, 
 Whose heart no more partakes of liberty ? 
 
 VII. 
 
 Bright did the silver moonbeams shed their rays 
 Onfall around ; Wacousta, with amaze, 
 
10 ATALA. 
 
 Saw hanging o'er him, and his chains unbind. 
 A heavenly form ! Can such the wretched find 
 As from above they wing their aerial flight ? 
 Was it a vision that entranced his sight ? 
 May the bright seraphim extend their care 
 To such as fortune's favors rarely share ? 
 
 VIII. 
 
 He spake : " Canst thou be that famed Liberty ? 
 
 Boundless as ocean and as tempest free : 
 
 Unlimited as space, beyond all view. 
 
 Endless as time, as unbeginning too, 
 
 Who on a stranger now confers thy charms : 
 
 Thy smile alone captivity disarms. 
 
 Come, gentle Deity, oh ! succor me, 
 
 Still be my breast a tranquil home to thee I" 
 
 IX. 
 
 " Or canst thou be that goddess from above 
 Who takes the charge of those who truly love. 
 Who binds such kindred hearts as Heaven unit33 
 Still close and closer by the nuptial rites, 
 Blending them into one ? If so, I'm free, 
 If I be but that kindred soul to thee ; 
 Take me, oh ! take to those blest abodes, 
 AVhere men are an gals ! angels less than gods ! 
 
 The maiden blushed such ardent words to hear ; 
 The blush responded — for her tongue, from fear, 
 
ATALA. 
 
 11 
 
 Refused expression ; still the heaving breast 
 Dechircd the struggling thought, the eye confest 
 That passion ruled within ; she turned to see 
 If aught could view the mental agony 
 Around, above — no witness to view-; 
 She spake — her sighs were many, w^ords were few. 
 
 XI. 
 
 " Warrior, I am not she to whom is given 
 
 To rule o'er hearts that fate unites in heaven ; 
 
 Nor yet fair Liberty : but of this earth 
 
 I am — to mortal parents owe my birth. 
 
 My sire was Simghan, ruler of that band 
 
 That led thee captive, and throughout the land 
 
 Of Seminoles the chief— nor more is he ; 
 
 Tell me, in turn, youth ! who thou mayst be ?" 
 
 A quick reply the falt'ring tongue denies, 
 
 Still, still 'tis told expressive through the eyes, 
 
 The glance, the blush respond 'neath southern skies. 
 
 What though a darker hue may dye the cheek, 
 
 The glowing tinge the passions well bespeak. 
 
 Nature, in mystic character, imparts 
 
 A mutual eloquence to kindred hearts. 
 
 Thus mute the captive stood as 'twere some spell 
 
 Retained a heart too full its griefs to tell. 
 
 Till from its flowings these effusions fell. 
 
12 ATALA. 
 
 '' A Natchez I — who, who can fail to know 
 
 Great Outalissa of the Silver Bow ? 
 
 T came of him, long famed in martial tale 
 
 That still makes maid and matron's cheek grow pale; 
 
 A chief redoubtable. Alas ! no more , 
 
 He'll lead his tribe to glory, as before. 
 
 In the same foray I was captive led. 
 
 My father fought till numbered with the dead ?" 
 
 XIV. 
 
 As so Wacousta of his sire declares. 
 The cheek of Atala alternate wears 
 That changing tint the feelings oft portray, 
 And the soul's inmost workings well betray ; 
 From pale to deepest crimson eke it glows. 
 And, in its turn, each changing passion shows. 
 Such varying hue emotion strong bespeaks. 
 And stillness reigns till thus she silence breaks. 
 
 XV. 
 
 " Art thou the son of that redoubted chief, 
 
 Him of the Silver Boio ? His life was brief 
 
 For all the mighty actions of renown 
 
 That wreathed his brows with many a laurel crown ; 
 
 E'en though he has extinguished all my race, 
 
 Nor is there left a solitary trace 
 
 Of what we were — still, still I'll be to thee 
 
 A guardian spirit — be so thou to me !" 
 
ATALA. 13 
 
 XVI. 
 
 By speech relieved, the heart resumes' its peace, 
 And throes that swell the bosom quickly cease ; 
 Tears cease to flow, as if their cause were o'er, 
 Their balming ministry avails no more. 
 She takes a brilliant cross whose sparkling light 
 Subdued the thick'ning shades of falling night 
 Then gath'ring round : on the young captive's breast 
 The gem she hung : her feelings thus exprest. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 " Young warrior, take this cross : salvation seek 
 
 Through Him who died for all : who lowly, meek, 
 
 Gave e'en his life for me : a rev'rend seer 
 
 Of the pale strangers first conveyed it here : 
 
 St. Aubry is he named, a holy man : 
 
 Far in the wilderness he dwells : you can 
 
 Seek his lone cave : with him and heaven e'er dwell : 
 
 Remember Atala ! Farewell ! farewell ! 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 As the fair herald of salvation seems 
 
 About to wing her flight to realms of dreams — 
 
 For surely from a spirit-land was she 
 
 Who thus could set a stranger captive free — 
 
 Wacousta turned a supplicating eye. 
 
 Expressing more than language could supply : 
 
 Thoughts, erst in bondage held, their fetters break. 
 
 And feelings long imprisoned, quickly spake. 
 
14 ATA.LA. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 '* Stay, stay tliee, stranger ! Though yon brilliant orb, 
 Whose light must all the lights of heaven absorb, 
 My fathers long have worshiped ; still with thee 
 I'll bow to this fair cross thou gav'st to me : 
 And leave me not. 'Tis safety to be near 
 "Where'er thou art. With thee what heart can fear ? 
 Oh ! fly with me ! We'll make the world a home. 
 And to its farthest verge together roam. 
 
 XX. 
 
 *' Sacred to friendship let us raise a shrine, 
 Remote from cities — seek a love divine. 
 Some sacred spot by human foot untrod ; 
 A life less dear to man, more true to God, 
 We'll pass : nor shorter road from earth is given 
 Than what the wilderness affords to heaven : 
 Where love and friendship yield alternate charms : 
 Fly, fly with me, nor shun a lover's arms." 
 
 He spake — but ere another word could say, 
 A cloud of dust obscures the light of day. 
 With trembling heart he saw the hostile foe 
 Approach, well armed with quiver, shaft, and bow. 
 No time was left for counsel to explore. 
 He burst his swaths and to the thicket bore 
 The maiden ; reckless they of hound or horn 
 That still assailed the ear till break of morn. 
 
AT ALA. 15 
 
 XXII. 
 
 Thus on life's troubled ocean were they tost, 
 Till in the mazes of the forest lost ; 
 No guiding star emits a friendly ray, 
 Through tlie dark foliage, to illume the way ; 
 No friendly word salutes the listening ear. 
 No sound familiar heard, no voice to cheer ; 
 On silence naught intrudes ; the beasts that roain 
 Anon may break it as they seek their home. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 Onward they strayed until Aurora's dawn 
 Presents a broad savannah, where the fawn 
 Sported around upon the velvet lawn. 
 Their seats they take within the fragrant bowers 
 That nature formed of incense-breathing flowers. 
 Where trees of varied tint aftord a shade, 
 And fruits as varied as their hues displayed, 
 Birds of all plumage pass from spray to spray, 
 And add new charms to while the time away. 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 Escambia, of the Florida's fair streams, 
 The fairest she to wake soft fancy's dreams. 
 Meandered by, in murmurs loud and deep. 
 That well might weary senses lull to sleep ; 
 Her mirror waters shed around the scene 
 Such charms as mortal eyes have seldom seen : 
 On every side enchantment's spells it threw, 
 Such spells as waking e^es but rarely view. 
 
1 <J ATALA. 
 
 The zephyrs sighing round the purhng rills 
 Whose crystal waters trickle down the hills, 
 Seem gentle nature's softest lullaby 
 That lulls to rest the shimb'rer''s closing eye, 
 And weighs the weary lid in gentle sleep, 
 Nor more in watchings painful vigils keep ; 
 The 'wildered wanderers felt those pleasing joys 
 Producing e'en a bliss which never cloys. 
 
 The raptures of that scene what words can tell ? 
 Fain would the minstrel on its transports dwell ; 
 Time, in fleet transit, reckless passed away 
 Till fair Auroi'a ushered in the day : 
 While thus unheeded glide away the hours, 
 Music, of heavenly birth, alfords her powers ; 
 The lovers lightly touch their rade-made lyres, 
 And in sweet concert thus the Muse inspires. 
 
 LAY. 
 1. 
 
 " The morning Itour invites to rove, 
 Still be it e\r the hour of love ; 
 How grateful is the tranquil scene ! 
 The slumbering foliage, sky serene ! 
 All nature sleeps, all nature^s still. 
 The verdant vale, the moss-grown hill. 
 
ATALA. 17 
 
 Silence laxarkuit holds her reign, 
 Save the ivinr/ed songster's golden strain. 
 Oh ! did ivs never sigh to roam, 
 Ne''er sigh to view the stranger'^s home, 
 Ne'^er iveep beneath a foreign sky, 
 Hoio sweet then e'' en for love to die! 
 
 2. 
 
 *• The morning hour must ever prove 
 Genial to friendship, virtue, love: 
 Offspring of heaven ! to these Uwill he 
 A source of true felicity. 
 Should pleasure mark the sparkling eye, 
 Should sorrow ever claim its sigh, 
 When nature loves to tune her strains. 
 Then seek this hour of joys and p)ciins. 
 Oh ! did 2ve never sigh to roam, 
 Ne''er seek to vieio the stranger'^s home.^ 
 Ne''er sigh beneath a foreign sky, 
 How sweet then e'en for love to die /" 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 Sweet is an liour of rapture, tbiis removed 
 
 Far from the world with those we fondly loved, 
 
 No human ken intruding* to molest 
 
 The tranquil pleasure of a lover's breast. 
 
 If bliss celestial e'er descended here 
 
 To visit for a season this our sphere, 
 
 'Tis surely when two kindred bosoms prove 
 
 The oenial home of one united love. 
 
IS ATA LA. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 While on a bank of roses they reclined, 
 For favors grateful and to ills resigned, 
 Wacousta said, " My Atala, relate 
 To what behest of heaven I owe the fate 
 That led thee, as an angel, to the spot. 
 Where first we met ; by all but thee forgot. 
 Say, svas it friendship), love, or pity weighed 
 In movino; thus to brino- the wretched aid V 
 
 With downcast eyes the maiden thus replied : 
 " Some spell unknown first led me to thy sido : 
 No stranger to affliction, I have learned 
 To feel for all on whom a mother yearned. 
 I saw thee led a captive to adorn 
 The fatal pile decreed to blaze ere morn. 
 My bosom burnt to set the captive free : 
 To this alone you owe your liberty." 
 
 XXX. 
 
 Wliile thus by converse the young lovers tried 
 
 To gain the secret thought no ken espied, 
 
 To mark the rising blush, the falling tear, 
 
 To seek if cause remain of hope or fear, 
 
 A distant sound is heard : " The?/ come^ they come /" 
 
 Wacousta cried, ^'■^Tis conquest or the tomb. 
 
 Fly, jiy, Atala / This arm shall save 
 
 All I hold dcar^ or here P II find my grave.'''' 
 
ATA LA. 10 
 
 Scarce died the falt'ring accents on his tongu-j, 
 When all the forest with a war-whoop runo-. 
 Dread sound! when issued by ten thousa.id luou, 
 And echo's voice repeats it oft again, 
 From Alpine steep prolonged to hollow glen. 
 Unheard, unseen, the wanderers sought the shade, 
 By dust in volumes more securely made. 
 The foe moves on, unconscious of their prey, 
 As scentless bloodhounds ofttimes, wdien at bay, 
 Nor stop nor stay till night incloses day. 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 The danger past, no cause of fear is found; 
 Deep silence reigns till echo breathes around 
 Its softest murmurs; still the timid hearts 
 T-hat ev'ry "fluttering leaf to terror starts, 
 Felt not assured till every cove and hill, 
 Glen, dale, and valley lay in slumber still ; 
 Then were their fears allayed to calm repose. 
 The eye, erst dimmed with tears, to lustre glows ; 
 In sweet communion they dissolve their woes. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 Youth, ever guileless, on life's ocean tost, 
 
 Is oft beneath the mountain billow lost; 
 
 E'en though the bark outlive the storm and wave. 
 
 And friendly port presents a chance to save, 
 
20 ATALA. 
 
 She seeks not a return, but sighs to prove 
 The force of friendship, constancy of love. 
 So frail a craft must needs admit decay, 
 Yet all embark the voyage to essay. 
 
 O Love, mysterious passion ! what can lieal 
 
 A bosom destined thy deep pangs to feel ? 
 
 Is there no balm fair nature can supply 
 
 Save the sad tear that falls or deep-drawn sigh ? 
 
 Where'er two kindred hearts responsive beat, 
 
 In unison are joined, in concert meet. 
 
 Though fortune's beams have unpropitious shone, 
 
 Still fate, more kindly, blends them into one. 
 
 CANTO II. 
 
 The sky is changed, and such a change ! O night, 
 
 And storm, and darkness ! ye are wondrous strong, 
 
 Yet lovely in your strength, as is tlie light 
 
 Of a dark eye in woman. — Far along, 
 
 From peak to peak, the rattling crags among. 
 
 Leaps the bold thunder ! Childe Harold. 
 
 Evening now closed around the trav'ler's way, 
 Involving all things in its sober gray ; 
 The feathered songsters to the grove repair 
 And seek repose ; the beast forsakes his lair. 
 
AT A LA. 21 
 
 Natui'e, in mercy, ever finds a home 
 For ail save man : if lie a wand'rer roam 
 Far from his native haunts, most hapless he 
 Whose only home is heaven's blue canopy. 
 
 The lowering skies envelop all the plain, 
 And darkness visible did long maintain 
 A rule supreme, till heaven's loud thunders roll, 
 And forked lightnings flash from pole to pole ; 
 Peal upon peal in quick succession flows, 
 Till with one lambent flame all nature glows ; 
 The forests bow their heads, as if t' implore 
 The rival elements to rao-e no more. 
 
 Where were the lovers at this awful hour ? 
 In vain they shelter sought within the bower 
 (Which yet liad shelter none) that late had been 
 To fond young lovers an Elysian scene. 
 Alas ! how changed ! those flowers of sweet perfume, 
 Those fragrant shrubs betraying roseate bloom, 
 The moss-grown seat, the vernal velvet floor 
 Are now of things that were — and are no more. 
 
 IV. 
 
 When rain with tempest, earth with heaven conten<l, 
 And all the elements in union blend ; 
 While war, scarce less tumultuous, had possest 
 The heart of Atala, her troubled breast 
 
22 AT ALA. 
 
 Concealed a storm more dire than that which rolled 
 Through vanlted skies — a bell for vespers tolled. 
 Wacousta cried, " Good Heaven has sent relief ; 
 Hope from despair oft springs — oft joy from grief." 
 
 V. 
 
 Speech had denied its power the thought to tell, 
 When a St. Bernard mastiff sought the dell 
 Where royal dome ne'er rose for king to dwell, 
 But bower had ever been : ' a lantern bound 
 Upon his breast, he, turning, oft looked round, 
 As if by supplicating look he plead 
 The wanderers to follow to the shed 
 Of good St. Aubry. Heaven alone could send, 
 At such dark hour, the refuge, guide, and friend. 
 
 VI. 
 
 " Angels of grace, defend us ! — is it thoii^ 
 
 My daughter in the spirit^ whom I now 
 
 Behold thus ''wildered P Aubry exclaimed. 
 
 " E'en from their lairs the beasts, or wild or tamed, 
 
 This night durst never venture. Tell me why 
 
 Dost thou, with such companion, thus defy 
 
 The rao-ino; elements of rain and storm. 
 
 As they the dirge of nature's wail perform." 
 
 With native modesty the maid declares 
 Her tale, and all the hermit's pity 'shares. 
 Tears fell in torrents from his aged eyes, 
 His breast more deeply told his griefs by sighs. 
 
ATALA. 2li 
 
 The silver locks that mantle o'er his breast, 
 And well to eighty winter snows attest, 
 Oft trembled with the palsied head that bore 
 The sorrowing griefs attendant on four-score. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 The holy man that bounteous table spread 
 Where 'wildered wanderer of the wild oft fed ; 
 In silent worship he preferred a prayer 
 In which the houseless strangers largely share. 
 The blazing fagot sheds around a light 
 That well contrasted with the fearful night 
 Then reigning out; the simple feast being o'er, 
 To heaven's behest resigned : they seek no more 
 
 IX. 
 
 The hour of midnight came, and all repair 
 The blessing of repose in sleep to share. 
 A bed of mountain heather had been stored 
 Within the sacred fane where all adored 
 Who sought asylum there : the fairer guest 
 Retired in sanctuary to balmy rest. 
 Wacousta, weary, shared a mossy bed 
 With the recluse, beneath a humbler shed. 
 
 X. 
 
 Sweet are the fairy visions of the night 
 That, to the lover's breast, impart delight ; 
 Season of rapture ! evermore prolong 
 Thy hours to days, and let the festive song 
 
24 ATALA. 
 
 r 
 
 Still be triumphant ! — such a magic scene 
 To gentle Atala this night had been. 
 Why does the dreamer wake to realize 
 Naught save the woes reality supplies? 
 
 XI. 
 
 Night past, Aurora dawns and sheds her beams 
 
 On young Wacousta, as of love he dreams. 
 
 Sleep winged her flight long ere her charms could cloy, 
 
 Those charms alone possessed without alloy : 
 
 No parent, country, kindred now had he ; 
 
 These sacred ties must hence forever be 
 
 United into one : from her must come 
 
 All the delights of country, Idndred, home. 
 
 XII. 
 
 The maiden rose, and, at the altar side, 
 
 To Heaven she prayed, by naught observed beside. 
 
 No friendly eye was near her, she did dwell 
 
 As anchoret within the lonely cell. 
 
 Prayer, though unuttered, seems life's storm to calm, 
 
 And if exprest, still brings more sovereign balm. 
 
 Angels rejoice when prostrate man will raise 
 
 His soul to heaven and cry, ^^ Behold, he prays P'' 
 
 Thus the fair novice adoration pays. 
 
 PRAYER OF ATALA. 
 1. 
 
 Abba, Father/ let us render 
 Our first orisons to thee. 
 
ATALA. 25 
 
 Be, as erst, our sole defender, 
 
 Sought in deep humility. 
 Dawning nature sings thy 2)raises ; 
 
 Should not mortals then rejoice, 
 When his matin hymn he raises. 
 
 To thy glory wakes his voice ? 
 
 2. 
 
 " Jah ! Jehovah ! when *tis breathing 
 
 Holy incense to the skies, 
 And from ev'ry Jioiver we're wreathing, 
 
 Fragant odors gently rise. 
 Let us give our thoughts to heaven 
 
 Where our souls should anchored be 
 Shrived, anointed, and forgiven 
 
 Through a long eternity. 
 
 " Jesu, ivhen at noon reclining^ 
 
 Under the palmetto shade ^ 
 Every wish to thee resigning. 
 
 Thee, the great atonement made ; 
 Still to thee our thoughts be risen, 
 
 Who alone canst 2wint the way 
 From the portals of lifers lyrison 
 
 To an everlasting day. 
 
 4. 
 
 " Holy Spirit, lohen eve closes 
 And envelops all in gloom, 
 
26 ATALA. 
 
 Nature in soft sleep reposes^ 
 jEmblematic of the tomb ; 
 
 If^ at vespers^ we'' re adoring^ 
 Let thy influence he sjJvead 
 
 On the heart thy grace outpouring^ 
 Thine anointing o'er the head. 
 
 " Great Triune ! in one united, 
 Three in one and one in three, 
 Well thou deemht thyself requited 
 
 In the worship paid to thee. 
 Mystic Union, ever blended^ 
 
 Wrought alone by power diviney 
 Ne^er beginning , still unended. 
 Claim me. Holy One, as thine.^^ 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Phoebus appears, and o'er fair nature gleams, 
 Enliv'ning all things with his golden beams ; 
 Gloom from the world retired : all, all adored 
 The great First Cause who heaven to earth restored. 
 The grove, redolent with its sweet perfumes, 
 The varied charms of by-gone days assumes, 
 While mountain, valley, hill, and dale rejoice. 
 Hailing his gladsome welcome with one voice. 
 
 Ere the fair pilgrim poured her soul in prayer, 
 Thi; aged host and youthful guest repair 
 
ATALA. 27 
 
 To seek the sacred walls whence erst were given 
 Thoughts pure as childhood's offering to heaven : 
 Entranced, enraptured, they beheld the shrine 
 Graced by a form less human than divine. 
 She turned — the hues that mantled o'er her cheek 
 More true than words the inmost soul bespeak. 
 
 There is a language of the eyes, that few 
 Can fail to read aright, interpret true ; 
 There is a language love is wont to speak, 
 Intelligent on youth or maiden's cheek. 
 Such, such the hermit read in each young guest, 
 Although in words no thought was yet exprest. 
 Within the chancel soon the rev'rend man 
 Proclaims an act where none forbids the ban. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 Angels invisible the gentle bride 
 Led to the altar, by her lover's side. 
 The aged hermit celebrates the rites 
 Decreed by law divine, two souls unites 
 In that mysterious union Heaven requites. 
 O state most blissful ! if on earth is found 
 Pure happiness, 'tis only when are bound 
 Hearts thus congenial, by that sacred love 
 AVhich e'en aerial spirits faith can prove. 
 
28 ATALA. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 The rev' rend host prepared his humble board 
 With the best fare his frugal stores afford. 
 The bridal pair to nuptial feast proceed, 
 A feast for which no guiltless creatures bleed : 
 The pliant vine that lowly crept the ground 
 Afforded fruit, in fragrant arbor found, 
 And the pure water from the crystal font 
 Supplies all nature needs — nor more they want. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 The feast being o'er, the lovers sought the grove, 
 Where time unheeded passed in hours of love ; 
 Removed from life's turmoils, from human ken, 
 Remote from cities, unobserved by men, 
 Far from tlie busy throng, the vulgar gaze, 
 How silent roll the seasons, swift the days ; 
 Where heart responds to heart and mind to mind, 
 'Tis there alone a heaven on earth we find. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 Oft as the radiant moon expands her beams, 
 And makes, as liquid silver, crystal streams ; 
 The wan'drers, hand in hand, again survey 
 The 'wildered wilds where devious paths bewray. 
 Anon, to 'guile the tedium of the hours, 
 They take their seat upon a bank of flowers, 
 Sing tales of love to melody's soft lay, 
 That Muse imparts, to while the time away. 
 
ATALA. 20 
 
 XX. 
 
 Thus passed the season through the fading year, 
 Till fields assume the robe of autumn sere ; 
 The stream of life so unobserved flowed on, 
 Scarce moved it forward ere 'twas past and gone ; 
 Ah ! why does envious time dispatch his hours 
 Whene'er his pathway lies through beds of flowers ? 
 So quickly does he wend, we scarce can weave 
 A garland, ere the bowers we're forced to leave. 
 
 Stern winter comes, a season dread and drear ; 
 
 All nature wanes apace, as wanes the year ; 
 
 The dying leaves were scattered o'er the ways, 
 
 And few were left to fend the solar rays. 
 
 The ling'ring blossoms wither on the stem. 
 
 And all of fair and lovely dies with them. 
 
 Thus faded Atala, her joys are fled. 
 
 She mingles smiles with tears and droops her head. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 As oft the lily, long weighed down w^ith showers. 
 No more can rear its head 'mong kindred flowers. 
 Unwilling still the victory to yield. 
 Or waste its sweetness on the desert field, 
 It vainly seeks to dissipate the gloom, 
 Displaying charms — still naught avails its bloom ; 
 It droops apace — fades^withers — pines away. 
 Yields to the blast and sinks to sad decay. 
 
30 ATALA. 
 
 xxiir. 
 
 Thus nature's fairest work consumes : eacli morn 
 
 The charms which, late as yestere'en, adorn, 
 
 Are ever gone ; at each return of day 
 
 This droops apace, and that has passed away. 
 
 As the fond lovers sit beside the stream 
 
 Meandering softly by and lulls life's dream, 
 
 The gentle Atala inclines her head, 
 
 Nor more of earth she was — her spirit fled. 
 
 Ere the last ling'ring sigh resigns its breath, 
 
 The rayless eyes were ever sealed in death, 
 
 The parting soul ere wends its struggling way 
 
 Soaring to realms of bright, of endless day ; 
 
 Then were her latest purest thoughts still given. 
 
 As erst, to rest them in their native heaven ; 
 
 Ere that her flight was winged to heaven's bright shores, 
 
 She- swan4ike, thus a dying dirge outpours : 
 
 DIRGE. 
 1. 
 
 " Daughter of grief, thy race is o'er, 
 Sorrow this bosom rends no more. 
 
 Nor more can dim mine eye. 
 Lend, lend your wings, ye angel choir. 
 Yes, to those regions I aspire 
 
 Of love and harmony. 
 
ATALA. 31 
 
 2. 
 
 " By travail to this world we come, 
 By travail journey to the tomb, 
 
 In travail pass our days. 
 Thrice happy hour ! — then welcome here ! 
 That points the way to that bright sphere 
 
 Where seraphim give praise. 
 
 3. 
 " Daughter of joy, then hail me now, 
 With festal garlands bind my brow, 
 
 A triumph here I gain. 
 Sound, sound the loudest notes of joy, 
 For raptures pure without alloy 
 On me henceforth remain." 
 
 XXV. 
 
 Why is it ever thus with all that's fair ? 
 
 Why evanescent as the passing air ? 
 
 Why can the rose's fragTance but an hour 
 
 Impart a sweetness to its native bower ? 
 
 At early dawn it rears its blushing head 
 
 In beauty's pride — at noon its charms are fled. 
 
 And ere the evening's close we mourn it dead. 
 
 'Tis thus with man — the sun that gilds his bloom 
 
 Will, with its setting rays, adorn a tomb. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 Woe's monument Wacousta stood confest ; 
 What art can paint the anguish of his breast ? 
 
32 ATALA. 
 
 Aroand the lifeless corse his arms he threw, 
 Kissed the cold lips and faintly sighed, Adieu ! 
 More would he speak, could words declare his grief, 
 Sighs would he breathe, could sighs afford relief. 
 He grasped the clay-cold haud, vain kisses gave. 
 But what avails beside th' insatiate grave ? 
 
 Does heaven regard when death thus rends in two 
 
 Hearts once united by a bond so true ? 
 
 'Tis finished, then he cried, my course is run, 
 
 It ends in sorrow as it first begun. 
 
 A heart fast breaking, truly these declare, 
 
 The sigh, the tear. Death, never, never spare 
 
 Your latest victim, all he now desires : 
 
 He spake — then breathing out his soul, expires. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 Flow on, Escambia, with a giant's force. 
 Sublimely flowing, from thy limpid source, 
 To ocean's depths, regardless of the corse 
 That on thy beetling shore neglected lies. 
 Unseen, unmourned, save by the weeping skies. 
 Here, Atala no more will tell her dream 
 Which fancy taught when lulled by thy fair stream, 
 Nor will thy marm'ring waters more beguile 
 The ardent lovers — list'ning the while, 
 Responding with a tear, anon a smile. 
 
AT ALA. 33 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 Is there no sorrowing heart to weep the fate 
 Of love so constant ? will no mourner wait 
 On this lone spot and drop a silent tear, 
 A humble tribute to a lover's bier ? 
 Can friendship one small offering deny ? 
 Will she not give a tributary sigh ? 
 Will tears of morn alone be found to weep ? 
 Will pensive eve, untended, vigils keep ? 
 
 As the pale corses lay 'neath heaven's bhie clouds. 
 The gentle robins weave funereal shrouds 
 From cypress mingled with the mourning yew, 
 Frail monumental types of love so true. 
 Still, still to friendship constant is there one — 
 The faithful Carlo wailed his plaint alone; 
 Bayed the pale moon till all the forest rung, 
 And echo's hundred tongues his plaints prolong. 
 
 Thrice had the earth been wrapt in evening shade 
 Before St. Aubry found the lovers laid. 
 Unwept, unheeded — Carlo thither led 
 In wakeless slumber ; on their moss-grow^n bed, 
 They hand in hand reclined ; 'tw^as death's repose. 
 Tears stole his furrowed cheek, he mourned their woes ; 
 Thence to his cell, with falt'ring step, he hied. 
 And, over-fraught with sorrow, bowed and died. 
 
34 ATALA. 
 
 What though no friend, no kindred close their eyes, 
 Nor, save the zephyr's, aught respond their sighs. 
 No friends arrayed in mockeries of woe, 
 No heart to melt in soft affection's glow ; 
 Still sainted spirits rest in dreamless sleep, 
 Rest till the angels their last harvest reap, 
 Rest till the heavenly host glad tidings brings, 
 Messiah comes with healing in his wings. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 Thus fades the glory of the world away, 
 
 As snow-wreaths thus it fleetly finds decay ; 
 
 Is beauty thine ? it is a fading flower : 
 
 Does youth elate ? it wanes with every hour. 
 
 Wealth makes it wings : then is there naught below 
 
 Immortal bliss on mortal can bestow 
 
 Beyond the shaft of fate or death's control ? 
 
 Is nought coeval with the undying soul 
 
 That still exists when years shall cease to roll ? 
 
 Yes ! there's a flower that will survive the tomb. 
 
 Of youth eternal, of unfading bloom. 
 
 Born of no soil, it is of every clime ; 
 
 No age can claim it : 'tis beyond all time. 
 
 Bound by no limits, as the tempest free, 
 
 Boundless as space, twin with eternity. 
 
 Tell — what that gift of heaven such power can claim 
 
 Virtue ! oh ! need the Muse declare thy name ? 
 
Miscellaneous. Poems. 
 
ST. JAMES'S CHURCH, FORDHAM. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS- 
 
 ST. JAMES'S CHURCH, FORDHAM. 
 
 A.D. 1853. 
 
 Lo ! in the wilderness we raise 
 A temple, Lord, to thee. 
 
 And celebrate thy glorious praise 
 In sacred melody. 
 
 Then graciously thy Spirit pom- 
 Its influence around. 
 
 And fill the fane where we adore 
 To make it holy ground. 
 
 And when this transient life is o'er, 
 
 (At best a short-lived flower,) 
 Its pleasures past, its griefs no more 
 
 Extend their baneful power. 
 Oh ! may we bless the day that cast 
 
 In the Bethesda here. 
 The wound that had a power to last 
 
 Beyond this earthly sphere. 
 
 Thou, who canst with equal eye 
 
 Regard the fate of all, 
 A world from its bright orbit fly, 
 
 The lowly sparrow fall ; 
 
38 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Thine arm, Almighty Lord, extend, 
 To guard the church from harm. 
 
 The Christian pilgrim to defend, 
 Thy saints from false alarm. 
 
 Oh ! may the plant we humbly rear, 
 
 How slow soe'er it grows, 
 Yet overspread the desert drear 
 
 And blossom as the rose ; 
 Long may its sovereign balm impart 
 
 To every soul distrest, 
 A cure to heal the broken heart, 
 
 And to the weary rest. 
 
 IN MEMORY OF JOHN DAVID WOLFE. 
 
 BORN, A.D. 1792. DIED, A.D. 1872. 
 
 " Green be the turf above thee, 
 
 Friend of my better days, 
 None knew tliee but to love thee, 
 
 None named thee but to praise. 
 When hearts whose truth was proven, 
 
 Like thine, are laid in earth. 
 There should a wreath be woven, 
 
 To tell the world their worth." Halleck. 
 
 O'er this green mound, oh ! lightly tread : 
 
 Angels their vigils keep, 
 And with their guardian wings o'erspread 
 
 A Christian laid asleep. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 39 
 
 Breathe not a sigh. The silent tear 
 
 Is all thou need'st bestow ; 
 He little recks who slumbers here, 
 
 To claim the meed we owe. 
 
 Through endless ages here thoul'lt rest, 
 
 O dear departed shade ! 
 Let no rude step that spot molest, 
 
 Thy relics sacred made. 
 
 What trophies can this triumph bring, 
 
 What laurel wreaths to thee ? 
 O Death ! then where the mighty sting? 
 
 grave ! thy victory ? 
 
 To distant realms you mount, you fly, 
 
 Nor more on earth appear ; ' 
 Thy sight no longer cheers the eye, 
 
 Thy voice no more the ear. 
 
 Farewell ! A long farewell to thee ! 
 
 Oft shall I wander here 
 And pour my sighs. Then claim from me 
 
 The tributary tear. 
 
 William Watson Waldron, A.B. 
 
40 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 ALBERT EDWARD, PRINCE OF WALES. 
 
 ox HIS ARRIVAL IN NEW-YORK, OCTOBER 11, 1860. 
 
 " The world is bright before tliee. 
 
 Its summer flowers are thine ; 
 Its calm blue sky is o'er thee, 
 
 Thy bosom pleasure's shrine. 
 And thine the sunbeam given 
 
 To nature's morning hour, 
 Pure, warm as when from heaven 
 
 It burst on Eden's bower," Halleck. 
 
 Prince of the Ocean Isles, 
 
 Columbia greeting sends. 
 We hail tby gracious smiles 
 
 Proclaiming us tliy friends. 
 A kindred people we. 
 
 In bonds of friendship tied. 
 By love and unity 
 
 Still let us be allied. 
 
 Prince of the Ocean Isles, a voice 
 
 Bids thee from distant worlds rejoice ; 
 Ages unborn look on thee 
 
 In spirit of true prophecy. 
 Let us thy kindly deeds proclaim. 
 
 Deeds that will to thy country's fame 
 A monumental memory raise 
 
 More fadeless than the poet's lays. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 41 
 
 Prince of the Isles, receive 
 
 Columbia's homage due ; 
 Though distant, still believe 
 
 In love she's present too. 
 One origin we claim, 
 
 We bear a British heart, 
 And in the Saxon's fame 
 
 With thee we bear a part. 
 
 Prince of the Ocean Isles, oh ! hear 
 
 A prayer most fervent, wish sincere : 
 May Providential care extend 
 
 An arm almighty to defend 
 Fair Briton's prince from every harm, 
 
 From hostile foes, from false alarm ; 
 When crowns no longer charm as now, 
 
 May one of glory wreathe thy brow. 
 
 Prince of the Ocean Isles, 
 
 Columbia breathes a prayer 
 To guard thee from the wiles 
 
 Thy youthful path ensnare ; 
 To save thee from a foe 
 
 The guiltless heart beguiles, 
 The chiefest it can know, 
 
 Fortune's insidious smiles. 
 
 Prince of the Ocean Isles, may Heaven 
 Grant thee all bliss to mortals given, 
 
 All happiness on thee bestow 
 To man allotted here below ; 
 
42 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Let virtue, and let licr alone 
 
 Be tliy support on Britain's throne ; 
 
 And when that throne you e'er resign, 
 One incorruptible be thine. 
 
 Prince of the Ocean Isles, 
 
 Loud let the welkin ring, 
 To hail the welcome smiles 
 
 Of Albion's future king. 
 Thy mother's spotless fame 
 
 Was borne beyond the sea ; 
 Unsullied let her name 
 
 Transmitted be by thee. 
 
 Prince of the Ocean Isles, 
 
 Columbia greeting sends, 
 We hail thy gracious smiles. 
 
 Proclaiming us thy friends ; 
 A kindred people we, 
 
 In bonds of friendship tied ; 
 By love and unity 
 
 Still let us be allied. 
 
 The following note was sent to the author previous to 
 tlie Prince's departure from America : 
 
 Boston, October 19, 1860. 
 
 "Major-General Bruce presents his compliments to Mr. 
 Waldron, and is requested to acl^nowledge the receipt of 
 the verses sent by Mr. Waldron to the Prince of Wales,- 
 and to express His Royal Highness's thanks for the good- 
 will to Great Britain, and kind feeling to himself, which 
 have prompted them. 
 
 " To William Watson Waldron, A.B." 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 43 
 
 FROM THE GREEK. 
 
 God is — and that's enougli for thee 
 But seek not what's the Deity ; 
 Worship, honor, praise, adore — 
 And further, mortal, ne'er explore. 
 
 IN MEMORY OF MISS ANNIE E. BUSHNELL. 
 
 BORN, A.D. 1855. DIED, A.D. 1872. 
 
 "The maid is not dead, but sleepeth." — Matthew 9 : 24. 
 
 Farewell, fair maid ! thy life was brief, 
 
 Thy transient course is run ; 
 Thou'st fallen with the autumn leaf. 
 
 Thy summer scarce begun. 
 
 Inscrutable are God's decrees, 
 
 Ineffable his powers ; 
 His ways are not as our ways, 
 
 Nor are his thoughts as ours. 
 
 A soul so formed for virtue's light, 
 
 No more on earth could roam ; 
 But to the spirits winded its flight 
 
 To seek its native home. 
 
 Our hearts the thought could never brook 
 
 As there we saw thee lie. 
 That then we took a parting look, 
 
 That thou wert born to die. 
 
44 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 We deemed thee a fond gift from heaven, 
 
 Kind Providence had sent ; 
 But ah ! we find thou wert not given, 
 
 But — for a season — lent. 
 
 Farewell ! fair maid, we bid adieu, 
 
 The mournful task is o'er ; 
 Thou'rt ever hid from mortal view, 
 
 No art can now restore. 
 
 With flowers we strew thy lowly bed. 
 
 Thy lone, thy early tomb. 
 Which each returning day will shed 
 
 A fragrant sweet perfume. 
 
 Here will the morn her tears bestow, 
 And evening her soft dews ; 
 
 Let kindred hearts indulge their woe, 
 A tribute who'll refuse ? 
 
 HYMN. 
 
 The heavens instruct the earth 
 Their Author to adore. 
 
 And will declare their birth 
 Till time shall be no more. 
 
 What song is more sublime ? 
 
 What harmony so pure ? 
 Eternal be the time 
 
 The concert may endure. 
 
4. 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 45 
 
 WATCHMAN, WHAT OF THE NIGHT ? 
 
 Watchman, watclnnan, what of the night ? 
 Heavenly visions envelop me quite. 
 Voices of seraphim sound in my ears, 
 A halo of glory on all things appears. 
 Angels, archangels now joyfully wait 
 To welcome a spirit at heaven's bright gate. 
 Watchman, what of the night ? 
 
 Watchman, watchman, what of the night ? 
 There hovers around me a heavenly light, 
 To my spirit departing affording a ray 
 Enlighting the boundless, the trackless way. 
 To regions of pleasure, to mansions of bliss. 
 More pure, more enjoying, more stable than this. 
 Watchman, what of the night ? 
 
 Watchman, watchman, what of the night ? 
 How glorious the vision, how great the delight, 
 When voices of cherubim sweetness display 
 To a spirit now entering on endless day ; 
 Scene of bright rapture, oh ! when will it be 
 That I will in glory be passing to thee ? 
 
 Watchman, what of the night ? ^ 
 
 Watchman, watchman, what of the night ? 
 What are those visions enchanting my sight ? 
 Angels attuning, in concert, their lyres, 
 Calling me loudly to join the glad choirs. 
 
46 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Lend, lend your wings ; I'm soaring, I fly, 
 
 My name to enroll among spirits on high. 
 
 Watchman, what of the night ? 
 
 Watchman, watchman, what of the night ? 
 (Still sung the pure spirit just winging its flight.) 
 I leave the frail mansion I held upon earth, 
 For one that's eternal, of heavenly birth : 
 My soul is departing, it lingers no more. 
 It soars on fleet pinions to heaven's bright shore. 
 Watchman, what of the night ? 
 
 WOMAN; OR, THE SISTER OF CHARITY. 
 
 The pensive moon, in silent course, 
 
 Through heaven's blue arch pursued her round ; 
 She beamed o'er many a blanching corse 
 
 Upon Monterey's battle-ground. 
 
 As walking forth I saw a maid i 
 
 Where bleeding warriors prostrate lie, 
 
 And as among the dead she strayed, 
 Soft tears of pity dimmed her eye. 
 
 If one, perchance, retained his breath, 
 She gently raised his drooping head ; 
 
 And then, amid the scene of death, 
 Peace hovered o'er his dying bed. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 41 
 
 For there a guardian angel stood, » 
 
 A being of aerial form ; 
 Unmeet to wade th' ensanguined flood, 
 
 Unfit to brave the battle's storm. 
 
 Still, still unscathed she bore relief, 
 The bleeding warrior's scar she bound ; 
 
 But ah ! her ministry was brief. 
 Grim Death another victim found. 
 
 For as the booming shots rolled by, 
 
 One, not unshaftlcss as the rest. 
 Drew from her soul its last deep sigh, 
 
 Ere stilled her palpitating breast. 
 
 And now she sleeps among the slain, 
 
 Un shrived, unknelled, but not unmourned. 
 
 That heart will never throb again. 
 Which late at tale of pity burned. 
 
 Mark how the features still retain 
 
 Their native smile though robed in death ! 
 
 A balm which lulled the warrior's pain 
 That lulled for aye the parting breath. 
 
 'Mid battle's roar we took the maid. 
 
 Her only dirge the martial drums ; 
 Now, now, within that bed she's laid 
 
 Where grief, where sorrow never comeS: 
 
48 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Sleep on, sleep on, until that day 
 
 When to the pure in heart is given 
 A crown which never fades away, 
 
 A wreath that ever blooms in heaven.* 
 
 * This sad incident in the Mexican war is described in 
 the following letter of an officer : 
 
 " Camp Monterey, Oct. 7, 1845. 
 
 ' ' Hungry and cold, I crept to one corner of the field to 
 get the sunshine, and, at the same time, to shelter myself 
 from the bombs that were flying thick around me. I looked 
 out from my retreat, and at the distance of two or three 
 hundred yards from the fort, I saw a Mexican female (a 
 sister of charity) carrying water and food to the wounded of 
 both armies. I saw her lift the head of one poor fellow, 
 give him water, and then take the handkerchief from her 
 own head and bind up his wounds, attending one or two 
 others in the same way ; she then went back for more food 
 and water. As she was returning, I heard the report of one 
 or two guns, and she — poor, good creature — fell ; after a 
 few struggles, all was still— she was dead ! O God ! this 
 is war ! I can not believe but that the shot was accidental. 
 The next day crossing over the field to another fort, I 
 passed the dead body : it was lying on the back, while the 
 bread and broken gourd, the latter still retaining a few 
 drops of water, were lying beside it. We stopped to con- 
 template her Christian charities, and made preparations to 
 bury her, which sad ceremony we performed amidst showers 
 of grape and round-shot, occasionally dodging a shell or a 
 twelve-pounder, and expecting every moment to have ano- 
 ther grave to dig for one of our own party." * 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 49 
 
 ADAM'S MORNING HYMN 
 
 (paraphrased from milton). 
 
 These are thy glorious works, great Power, we name 
 
 Almighty ! Thine this universal frame ; 
 
 Thus wondrous fair, Thyself how wondrous then, 
 
 Unspeakable, who sit'st 'bove heaven and men — 
 
 To us invisible or dimly seen 
 
 In these thy lowest orbs we deem terrene ; 
 
 Thy goodness beyond thought, and power divine : 
 
 These, these declare — for all these works are tliine. 
 
 Speak ye — who best can tell — ye sons of hght. 
 Angels — for ye behold Ilim day and night ; 
 With songs and choral symphonies in heaven, 
 Rejoicing round His throne your praise is given. 
 On earth — join all ye creatures to extol 
 Him first, Him last, Him midst, Him chief of alL 
 Join, all ye Powers below, ye Powers above, 
 In songs of harmony, in hymns of love. 
 
 Fairest of stars — last in the train of night, 
 
 Better if thou wert not of morning light ; 
 
 Sure pledge of day, that crown'st the smiling morn, 
 
 With thy bright circlet, praise Him in thy turn. 
 
 Thou Sun, of this bright world the light and blaze, 
 
 Acknowledge Him thy greater — sound His praise 
 
 In thy eternal course, when dawn thou'st met. 
 
 Or when high noon thou'st gained, or when thou'stset. 
 
50 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Moon, that now meet'st the orient sun that flies, 
 
 With the fixed stars that glow in purple skies ; 
 
 And ye five other wand'ring fires that bound 
 
 In mystic dance, not without song, resound 
 
 His praise, who, out of darkness, called up mom. 
 
 Air, and ye elements, the eldest born 
 
 Of nature's womb — thou, in quaternion, blaze, 
 
 Perpetual circle, multiform, and raise 
 
 To our Creator still eternal praise. 
 
 Ye mists and exhalations that arise 
 From hill or steaming lake to dusky skies. 
 Till the sun paint your fleecy skirts with gold, 
 Be honor to the world's great Author told : 
 Whether to deck with cloud the murky sky. 
 Or wet the thirsty earth with showers, you try — 
 Or nature's face a sombre form betrays ; 
 Rising or falling — still advance His praise. 
 
 His praise, ye winds that, from four quarters, blow. 
 Breathe soft or loud — ye pines, your tops wave low ; 
 Let every plant, in sign of worship, wave ; 
 Fountains, and ye that warble as ye gave 
 Melodious murmurs, tuneful voices raise ; 
 And all ye living souls, attune His praise ; 
 Ye birds, as up to heaven, from earth, you rove, 
 Bear on your wings and in your notes His love. 
 
 Ye that in waters glide — and ye that walk 
 The earth, or stately tread or slowly stalk, 
 Witness, if I be silent, morn or eve ; 
 Let hill and valley still your praise receive. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 51 
 
 Hail, universal Lord ! be bounteous still 
 To give us only good and naught of ill ; 
 But if misfortune gather in the night, 
 Disperse it as the dark disperses light. 
 
 WHEN SHALL I PRAY 
 
 And he said, " Father, instruct me, I beseech you, in the 
 most fitting hour for prayer." The sage folded liis arms 
 and said; " My son, pray continually ; at the rising of the 
 sun ; at the sultry noon ; and in the still watches of the 
 night." 
 
 Pray when the dawn is beaming 
 
 Upon the sunny hills ; 
 When half the world is dreaming 
 
 On scenes which fancy fills. 
 
 Pray at the noontide hour, 
 
 As pensively you stray 
 By mead or lonely bower 
 
 To while the time away. 
 
 Pray in the crowded city 
 
 Where man is prone to fall, 
 Lnploring then for pity 
 
 Of Him who's Lord of ail. 
 
 Pray when the evening closes, 
 
 All nature sinks to rest, 
 Beast in the lair reposes, 
 
 Bird in the downv nest. 
 
52 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Pray at the midnio-ht season 
 Enveloped in its gloom ; 
 
 Oh ! then indeed there's reason- 
 'Tis kindred to the tomb. 
 
 Pray when no ear is hearing, 
 No eye descends on you ; 
 
 And not when all's appearing 
 Displayed to mortal view\ 
 
 AVEEP NOT FOR HIM ! 
 
 ON THE DEATH OF LIEUT. MILNOR BROWN, WHO FELL 
 AT THE BATTLE OF GETTYSBURG, JULY 2, 1863. 
 
 " Weep not for the dead, neither bemoan him." — Jeremiah. 
 
 Weep not for him who finds a grave 
 
 Within his native land, 
 Who fell among tbe noble brave 
 
 In the victorious band ! 
 
 The child who with his people sleeps, 
 
 Breathe not for him a sigh ; 
 For him in wakeful vigil keeps 
 
 A guardian angel's eye. 
 
 In peaceful slumbers, calm repose, 
 
 From pain and sorrow free, 
 He rests where grief nor mortal woes 
 
 Intrude on memory. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 53 
 
 To him the closing scene has come, 
 
 But who his fate will mourn ? 
 'Mong friends he now has found his tomb, 
 
 By friends was hither borne. 
 
 Weep not for him who calm can sleep 
 
 Upon his native shore ; 
 When angels their last harvest reap, 
 
 With them to heaven he'll soar. 
 
 Farewell, brave youth ! thy country's cause 
 
 A w^illing victim found in thee. 
 Thy monument is — honor's laws, 
 
 To thee the grave is — victory. 
 
 Here will the morn her tears bestow, 
 The evening dews will weep the brave. 
 
 The passing traveler's tears will flow 
 And drop on gallant Milnor's grave. 
 
 Here will the rising orb of day 
 
 A constant visitor still be, 
 And evening with his setting ray 
 
 Will take a parting look at thee. 
 
54 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 IN MEMORY OF JOSEPH WALKER, 
 
 BORN, 1798. DIED, 1866. 
 
 / 
 
 " Help, Lord : for the godly man ceasetli ; for the faithful 
 fail from among- the children of men." — Psalm 12 : 1. 
 
 Muse of a mourning harp, inspire my lays ; 
 A great man, fallen in Israel, claims tby praise ; 
 Great in bis acts of mercy, rich in grace. 
 Great in his virtues — who can fill his place ? 
 
 Friend of our happier clays, shall we again 
 Ever behold, amid the walks of men, 
 A breast more true to friendship's every call, 
 A heart by pity moved to succor all ? 
 
 Meek cbarity aud all ber powers divine — 
 Wbere did they more triumphant, purer shine, 
 Than in thy throbless bosom, ever stilled. 
 Whose task, on earth, so justly was fulfilled ? 
 
 To seek distress, at morn, you went about ; 
 Each eve, the case you knew not, searched out ; 
 Nature, in true benevolence, did blend 
 The orphans' guardian with the widow's friend. 
 
 Did we need counsel, from thy lips would flow 
 All tliat fair wisdom's self could e'er bestow ; 
 You taught us still to combat with the strife, 
 When here, no charm appeared to cherish life 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 55 
 
 But now thou'rt gone ! yes, yes, we mourn thee dead, 
 
 And with thee, O my friend ! is ever fled 
 
 A spirit, long aspiring to the skies, 
 
 That now at last attains the hallowed prize. 
 
 Farewell ! a long farewell we bid to thee, 
 
 Crowned with a fadeless immortality ; 
 
 Long will it ere a friend so true we'll find, 
 
 Where heart meets heart and mind responds to mind. 
 
 Heir of eternal bliss, how truly blest ! 
 With saints you've entered on eternal rest ; 
 Thrice happy state, such blessing to us send, 
 Angels on thee in blissful realms attend. 
 
 There — is this state of rigid trial o'er. 
 There — will the anxious bosom beat no more ; 
 The heart can there no more emit the sigh, 
 Nor sorrow ever dim the mourner's eye. 
 
 How glorious then to sing in heavenly lays. 
 Angels and men uniting in their praise, 
 With loud hosannahs, 'mid the saints above, 
 How sweet the harmony — how pure the love ! 
 
56 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 ON VIEWING THE INTERMENT OF LEVI 
 BULL SMITH, JAN. 24, 1854. 
 
 How sliort the race our child has run, , 
 
 Cut down in early bloom ! I 
 
 His course hut yesterday begun, j 
 
 Now finished in the tomb !" ■ 
 Muhlenberg. 
 
 And has his spirit passed away, 
 
 A child of many prayers ? : 
 
 His Hfe was but an April day, ; 
 
 Alternate smiles and tears. ] 
 
 Earth an inhabitant has less ; ' 
 
 But what is gained to heaven ? j 
 
 One cherub angel more to bless • 
 
 Th' Omnipotent is given. \ 
 
 Freed from a world of cares and woes, : 
 
 How truly blest is he ! ' 
 
 Who thus, at early morn, foregoes - 
 Those of humanity. 
 
 The burden of the day is ours, \ 
 
 We kiss the chast'ning rod ; 
 
 While lie, amid the heav'nly choirs, ; 
 
 Sings praises to his God. \ 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 57 
 
 JEPHTHAH'S VOW. 
 
 " And Jeplitliali came to Mizpeh unto liis house, and, 
 "beliold, liis daughter came out to meet him with timbrels 
 and with dances : and she was his only child ; beside her 
 he had neither son nor daughter. And it came to pass, 
 when he saw her, that he rent his clothes, and said, 'Alas ! 
 my daughter !' " — Judges 11 : 34, 35. 
 
 The mighty Jephthah, weighed with Ammon's spoils, 
 Now sought his home to rest from warlike toils. 
 With joy he heard the martial trumpet cease, 
 Saw Israel's arms repose in early peace. 
 The laurel chaplet which adorned his brow- 
 Is laid aside — the olive blooms there now ; 
 'Alid hostile hosts no longer does he roam, 
 In hope he tastes the pleasing joys of home. 
 
 " What was the vow I made ?" — Here Jephthah sighed. 
 
 *' I have one child, one hope, one only pride, 
 
 Whom every virtue, every grace adorn, 
 
 Fair as the new-born star that gilds the morn. 
 
 My vow — here must I pause : what first I meet. 
 
 What from my portals will my welcome greet, 
 
 To thee, O Lord ! a sacrifice I make. 
 
 Oh ! spare the child for wretched Jephthah's sake. 
 
 " Yet still I tremble : mourning thoughts arise. 
 I see my duteous child before my eyes, 
 As she was wont, with joyous heart and gay, 
 Her filial homage to her father pay. 
 
o8 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 No longer has my home sweet charms for me, 
 The seat no longer of felicity. 
 And as I view that peaceful spot so dear, 
 I feel the stiuggling sigh, the starting tear. 
 
 " Mark the loved dwelUng — Jephthah, cease to weep, 
 All silent still — mayhap the maid may sleep ; 
 Hope, cheer this breast ; afford a friendly ray, 
 And wipe a wretched parent's tears away. 
 Is there no favorite lamb, no creature nigh. 
 E'en a domestic here to meet my eye. 
 Oh ! must my much-loved child the victim be ? 
 Good Heaven ! avert such dread calamity. 
 
 " What are those sweet, those dulcet sounds I hear — 
 What, what those heavenly strains that reach the ear? 
 They seem to verberate throughout the skies : 
 Yes, yes, the well-known voice I recognize. 
 Yet dare I still have hope ? — 'tis she — 'tis she ! 
 Her lovely fellows bear her company. 
 She — from the portal first : ah hapless maid ! 
 How soon those eyes must close — that bloom must 
 fade." 
 
 " Hail, honored sire !" — " Loved child, I hail thee too, 
 
 A murd'rer I — a guiltless victim you, 
 
 Are now the kindred that we henceforth claim ; 
 
 No longer breathe that late endearing name 
 
 Which once conveyed to this distracted breast 
 
 Whate'er was lovely or whate'er Avas blest. 
 
 But ah ! how changed those blissful scenes are now, 
 
 What says my child ? — her tears — I have a vow." 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 59 
 
 " Oh ! yes, loved sire I — long since the tidings came 
 That Israel's foe had fled before thy name ; 
 Long since the sacred vow you lodged in heaven 
 However rash, however rashly given, 
 Were borne to me ; but ah ! if guilty thou 
 To register above so sad a vow 
 In sight of heaven, how guiltier must I prove, 
 Who thus attest thy duty and thy love 1 
 
 " If Amnion Israel's foe be now no more. 
 
 Oh ! take my life ; 'twas thus thou didst adore. 
 
 To wail my virgin state still grant to me 
 
 To range the mountain, mourn my sorrows free. 
 
 Then will I bow to thy superior will." 
 
 " O ever duteous ! ever friendly still 1" 
 
 The frantic Jephthah cried with terror wild, 
 
 " I've saved my country, but have lost my child." 
 
 HOUR OF LOVE. 
 
 Know ye the hour when lovers should meet ? 
 
 Know ye when vows should be given ? 
 Know ye when hearts can in unison beat, 
 
 Witnessed by nothing but heaven ? 
 'Tis when the planets are lit in the skies, 
 
 Lulled every wave on the ocean ; 
 'Tis when the zephyrs are breathing their sighs, 
 
 And nature has stilled her emotion ; 
 
60 3IISCELLANE0US POEMS. 
 
 'Tis when the moonbeams are playing around, 
 Far from tlie ken of the many ; 
 
 This is the hour, believe me, is found 
 Fairest and brightest of any. 
 
 GREENE ANK, 
 
 The Residence of Joseph Walker. 
 
 Greenbank, a paradise in thee 
 Imagination's eye can see ; 
 Nor do we call it fancy's dream 
 That to the mental eye you seem 
 Where our first parents used to rove 
 In all the innocence of love, 
 When, pure from the Creator's hand, 
 On this terrestrial globe they stand. 
 Surrounded with redolent flowers, 
 By verdant fields and fragrant bowers ; 
 And what more charming could there be 
 Than those, Greenbank, we find in thee ? 
 And, to pursue the fav'rite theme, 
 We think the proud Euphrates' stream 
 Appears in yonder crystal tide. 
 Where barks, with swelling canvas, ride 
 In all their glory, all their pride. 
 Farewell, fair spot ! still ever be 
 The home of true felicity. 
 May every bliss that life attends 
 Forever wait upon those friends 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 61 
 
 Who find in thee, Greenbank, a home 
 From which they never sigh to roam, 
 As well they deem among mankind 
 Another snch they conld not find. 
 
 CHIEFTAIN AXD CHILD. 
 
 The mighty chieftain placed his hand 
 
 Upon the bairn's head, 
 And, not as erst he gave command, 
 
 In gentle accents said, 
 
 " Oh ! may a Providential care 
 Unto this child be given ; 
 For such, we're told, the angels are 
 Who minister in heaven." 
 
 The very contact cast a glow 
 Throughout the youthful frame. 
 
 Such as none other here below 
 Has e'er produced the same. 
 
 And so it ever still remains, 
 
 Though many a rolhng year 
 Has brought its pleasures, brought its pains. 
 
 To vary life's career. 
 
 The words, as manna, seemed to drop 
 Like morning dew from heaven. 
 
 And to life's pilgrim brought a hope 
 No other since has given. 
 
62 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 How little dreamt the warrior then 
 As forth the words he poured, 
 
 That little child would wield a peu 
 As potent as his sword. 
 
 This reaps its glory from the field 
 
 Where laurels hold the sway ; 
 And that, where richer harvests yield 
 
 The olive and the bay. 
 
 Long since life's evening cast its gray 
 
 Upon those tresses fair. 
 Still does that benediction stay 
 
 And all its blessings bear. 
 
 And may its influence never rest 
 
 Till the celestial shore 
 Receives the blesser and the blest 
 
 Where parting is no more. 
 
 Well may Columbia proudly boast, 
 
 Exultingly exclaim. 
 These are the gems I value most, 
 
 They bring undying fame.* 
 
 * Mr. Irving acknowledged the receipt of the above poem 
 in the following note : 
 
 Sunn YsiDE, -April 15, 1853. 
 My Dear Sir : I thank you for the copy of verses you 
 have had the kindness to send me, in which you have, with 
 so much tact and talent, illustrated a little incident of my 
 childhood. Yours very truly, 
 
 Washington Irving. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 63 
 
 LANDING OF THE NORMANS. 
 
 The Norsemen trained to spoil and blood, 
 Skilled to prepare the raven's food, 
 Kino-s of the main, their leaders brave, 
 Their barks the dragons of the wave ! 
 
 Sir Walter Scott. 
 
 The Northmen land. Behokl the migbly liost ! 
 Men of reno^N-n, of chivalry tlie boast ; 
 Mailed to the teeth with buckler, claymore, shield, 
 Now more prepared to conquer than to yield. 
 
 Mviiads on myriads from the ocean pour, 
 And darken, with their number, Britain's shore, 
 The Erse, the Dane, the Saxon must give place, 
 And bow submissive to brave Rollo's race. 
 
 Mark the proud chieftains as they onward bear 
 The glittering standards floating in mid-air, 
 Ready to live for glory or to die. 
 Strength in the look, defiance in the eye. 
 
 Amid the throng, the leader of the band 
 - EncomDassed with the nobles of the land^ 
 Rides onward-Byron, Waldron of St. Claire, 
 Conspicuous shone with stars of lesser glare. 
 
64 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Slowly they move. No hostile bands oppose, 
 Til!, on the field of Hastings, Harold rose 
 Against the martial William, who that day 
 Reaped laurels destined never to decay. 
 
 The royal heroes met, and breast to breast 
 They fought till Harold entered on that rest 
 That knows no waking, while the air did ring 
 With shouts, God 2^rospe7' William, Britain'' s King ! 
 
 [ WRECK OF THE ARCTIC. 
 
 We saw lier treasures cast away, 
 
 The rocks with pearls were strewn, 
 And strangely sad, the ruby ray 
 
 Flashed out o'er fretted stone. 
 And near it on the sea-weed lay, 
 
 (Till then we had not wept), 
 But well our gushing hearts might say, 
 
 That there a mother slept ! 
 
 Mrs. Hemans, 
 
 They found a lone grave in the azure deep, 
 
 Hearts to friendship true ; 
 They slumber in long, in lasting sleep, 
 
 'Neath heaven's expanse of blue. 
 
 Where are the loved ones who left the shore ? 
 
 Down in the deep, deep sea. 
 Alas ! we shall never behold them more, 
 
 The ocean their bed must be. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 65 
 
 Where are those eyes that with love-beams shone, 
 
 Whose smile spread- a lustre round ? 
 To the depths of the troubled waves they're gone, 
 
 Where snow-white pearls are found. 
 
 They sleep aye forever in coral cells, 
 
 And there have found a grave, 
 Where sadly and silent the mermaid dwells 
 
 Beneath the crystal wave. 
 
 The young and the lovely have passed away. 
 
 Nor more on earth appear ; 
 Without shroud, without coffin, unknelled they lay, 
 
 No kindred heart was near. 
 
 Ao-es will roll and meet their doom 
 
 Till time itself shall cease ; 
 But naught can awake them in the tomb, 
 
 The home of lasting peace. 
 
 There will they rest, 'reft of solar beams. 
 
 Regardless of the storm ; 
 No dirge will ever disturb their dreams. 
 
 Save what the winds perform. 
 
 But yet a time will come, 'tis said. 
 
 An angel's voice Avill say, 
 "Ye seas, ye seas, give up your dead — 
 
 'Tis resurrection day 1" 
 
66 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 LINES ADDRESSED TO GEORGE IV. 
 
 ON HIS VISIT TO DUBLIN. 
 
 The sun shone forth with splendid ray, 
 The glorious havbinocr of day, 
 His orient beams he mildly spread 
 Upon Ben Hadir's towering head. 
 The beetling rocks, fair nature's pride, 
 , Suspended from the mountain's side. 
 
 Reflected back the brilliant light. 
 And gladdened nature with the sight. 
 Where the horizon bounds the sky, 
 A lofty pennant I descry, 
 Lo ! the sails, in swelling pride, 
 ^ Bearing o'er the azure tide ; 
 Such a sight was ne'er before 
 Witnessed on our native shore. 
 Such a subject ne'er again 
 Will engage the minstrel's pen. 
 Here let me hold and raise my song 
 For Him to whom all joys belong. 
 Source of all good, from hence must flow 
 Each blessing we enjoy below. 
 On earth unseen, yet still art given 
 Our surest guide to lead to lieaven ; 
 On earth unheard, yet still thy voice. 
 In spirit, can our souls rejoice* 
 
 ^ These lines being sent to His Majesty, Lord Bloom- 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. C7 
 
 AN ACROSTIC. 
 
 Weep not for me ^vhen 1 am dead, 
 In sorrow let no tears be shed, 
 Let not a cypress crown be wreathed, 
 Let not a mourning dirge be breathed ; 
 In heavenly bliss, oh ! let me rest ! 
 All ano-nish then has fled the breast ; 
 Mourn, oh ! mourn ye not the blest ! 
 
 Weep not for me when I am gone,' 
 Allow the morning dews alone 
 (The tears that nature kindly sheds) 
 Stain the green turf above me spreads. 
 Oh 1 when I share such bliss divine. 
 Never, oh ! never me repine. 
 
 Weep not for me when I no more 
 Appear where mortals can adore. 
 Let no rude step my grave molest. 
 Didst thou but know where I was guest 
 (Revealed to those, in life, who trod 
 Obsequious to the will of God), 
 No tear would moist the verdant sod. 
 
 field, the secretary, acknowledged the receipt of them in 
 the following note : ^i w i 
 
 - Lord Bloomfield presents his compliments to Mr. V\ ai- 
 dron and having laid his ode before the King, has the honor 
 to acquaint him that His Majesty was pleased to receive it 
 very graciously." 
 
 Stephen's Green, August 20, 1821. 
 
68 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 WHAT IS LIFE ! 
 
 Not a moment flies 
 But puts its sickle in the fields of life. 
 And mows its thousands with their joys and cares ! 
 
 KiRKE White. 
 
 AVhat is life ? It is a flower 
 
 It blooms its little day ; 
 It flourishes a transient hour 
 
 Then hastens to decay ; 
 The fragrant leaves bestrew the ground 
 
 And shed an od'rous perfume round. 
 Such is life. 
 
 What is life ? It is a shadow 
 
 From the setting sun, 
 Passing o'er a verdant meadow 
 
 Ere his course is run, 
 Leaving not a trace behind 
 'To tell it lived, to tell it died. 
 Such is life. 
 
 What is life ? It is a vapor 
 
 From the ocean's spray, 
 'Tis a faint expiring taper 
 
 That yields a feeble ray. 
 To darkness scarce a halo gives, 
 And but a passing season lives. 
 Such is life. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 69 
 
 What is life ? It is an arrow 
 
 From the archer's bow, 
 By a pathway, straight and narrow, 
 
 Passing all below, 
 Leaving in the yielding wind 
 
 E'en a vestige not behind. 
 Such is life. 
 
 What is life ? It is the furrow 
 
 On the azure wave. 
 Memory loses ere the morrow 
 
 Meets its silent grave — 
 Another and another still 
 
 Alternate rise the place to fill. 
 Such is life. 
 
 What is life ? 'Tis a sojourn 
 
 Where travelers abide 
 As moving to their final bourn ; 
 
 It is the ebbing tide 
 That daily meets the beetling shore, 
 
 And then retires to come no more. 
 Such is life. 
 
 What is life ? 'Tis all that lives, 
 
 'Tis all that dies away ; 
 All that a fleeting pleasure gives, 
 
 That's born but to decay, 
 What's evanescent in its power, 
 
 What lives and dies within an hour 
 Such is life. 
 
10 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 What is life we find has been 
 
 Proved a transitory scene, 
 Unstable as the ebbing wave 
 
 From the cradle to the grave. 
 Let us then improve each hour, 
 
 If summer smile, if winter lower, 
 Be to some useful task e'er given 
 
 The soul matured to "taste of heaven. 
 
 LAST LAY OF THE MINSTREL. 
 
 Child of sweet song, thy race is o'er, 
 Sorrow thy bosom rends no more, 
 
 Nor e'er can dim thine eye ; 
 Lend, lend your wings, ye angel choir, 
 Yes ! to your regions I aspire, 
 
 To heaven's bright realms I fly. 
 
 Hail ! power divine that show'st the way 
 To where a never-ending day 
 
 Is followed not by night ; 
 And you, ye heavenly strains, I bring 
 Which Israel's shepherd loved to sing 
 
 To those who seek the lisfht. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. Vl 
 
 Child of pure bliss, then hail me now ; 
 With festive garlands wreathe my brow ; 
 
 A triumph here I gain. 
 Sound, sound thy liveliest notes of joy, 
 For endless pleasures that ne'er cloy 
 
 Henceforth on me remain. 
 
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