PR 1175 .S756 LIBRARY OF CONGRESS DDQDSDt.nbT ^^ o""'* ^-ft '^'^ ^'" ^' o^ "o . i * A ;* ^' "^^ '^^m^,* ^^ ♦ «7 ;* .5-* ^* Z^fSSS^^'. •^^. c , * *^ c» '^^ ^4' ^' /aVa:- ' t^ A^ ' - •^^^^'^ ' 0^^ • ^v (||©ILILIg(@^^PIM>^0 OR SELECT POEMS. \ COLLECTANEA Moral, § Plait;tive, Humorous, § Satirical, Melodious, § Sentimental ♦ AWD Miscellaneous. v FRO.AI VARIOXJ* CELEBRATED AND APPROVED AUTHORS. Stealing and giving siceets. — Shakespeabe. As the small mountain bees collect, With daily toil the grateful thyme — Thus I more weighty truths select, Or crop the flow'ry sweets of rhyme. — Dter. *'*'*'».o.":':">:;Ovvw SELECTED AND COMPILED BY SAMUEL C. STEVENS. HAVERHILL, N. H. PRINTED FOR THE C03IPILER BY S. T. GOSS. 1823. ^%^'^^ r-,1^^ PREFACB. Deem not this impertinence or foliy. i conue not ^s an author, making sounding pre- tensions, and Ihereby sohciting a liberal pat- T^onage from a "candid and generous public,"but merely a compiler; and as such, beg the char- ity and candour of all in judging of its merit;?. To the admirer? of Poesy and Song, it is hoped the following selection of Fugitive Poems will be a feast of entertainment ; es- pecially as it embraces extracts upon different subjects. Whatever be the subject of favor- iteism ; whatever be the theme upon whicli they delight to dwell, it is hoped they vviil te gratified. It has been my constant endeavor, my unre- mitted attention, to render the work pleasing and acceptable to all. There may, still how. ever, be some objection to the choice of the collection ; in this 1 may erred, ns •'• to err is human ; but " to forgive., diviuc.'' ^D JER TISEMEJV T. Some apolog"y may be due to those who have subscribed for this little velume, for its appearance at this hite day; the proposals for publishing the same having beru issued up- wards of a year. It was calculated at the time the proposals were issued, that the work would be ready for subscribers by the fall of 1822 ; but the con- tractor for printing was not aware of the mul- tiplicity of work he had to perform, which, to- gether with the management of a weekly pa- per, prevented the work from going to press until the present time. This, with the fact that a sufficient number of subecribers were not obtained to warrant the expence, may be assigned as a sufficient reason tor its not ap- pearing before. By this delay, however, some essential alterations have been made in the work, and some admirable pieces selected, which would not have appeared, had it been puhhslied last year ; among which are the Indian Philosopher, and others, from Watts' Lyric Poems. I rely on the merits of the work alone, for 'he approbation of the public* S. C, S. Corinth. Vt. June 1, 1823. OR SELECT POEMS JiDDRESS TO MARY IN HEAVEN. By R. Burns, The snbject of the following poem, was Marj Campbell, to wbom the author, a Scottish Bard, was betrothed. Thej had met on the banks of the Ayr, in May, in a sequestered spot, where they spent the day in taking a farewell, before she shonld embark for the West High- fends to arrange matters among her friends for the pro- jected union. At the close of Autnmn following, she crossed the sea at Greenock to meet him,where she had scarce landed, when she was seized with a malignant fever, which carried her to her grave, even before he could hear of her illnesj. On the anniversary of her dealb, he retired from hi? family and wandered solita- ry on the banks of the Nith, where his agitation was 50 great, he threw himself on the side of a corn-stack, and there conceived his sublime and tender elegy, which follows. — Compiler. Tbotj lingering s(ar with lessening ray, Thijt lov'st to meet the early morn I Again thou usher'st |n the day. My Mary from my soul was torn ! A 4 ADDHESS TO MARY. O Mary ! dear departed shade ! Where is thy place of blissful rest ? — See'st thou thy lover lowly laid ? Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast ? That sacred hour can I forget. Can I forget the haliow'd grove, Where by the winding Ayr we met, To live one day of parting love I Eternity will not efface Those records dear of transports past j Thy image at our last embrace ; Ah I little thought we 'twas our last * Ayr purling kissM bis pebbled shore, O'er hung with wild woods, thick'ning green The fragrant birch, and hawthorn hoar, Tw.in'd am'fous round the rapturM scene. The fiow'rs sprang wanton to be presf, The birds sang love on every spray, 'Till too, too soon the glowing west ProclaimM the speed of winged day. Still o'er these scenes my mem'ry wake<' And fondly broods with miser care ; Time but th' impression stronger makes. As streams their channels deeper wear. My Mary, dear, departed shade ! Where is thy place of bl^sful rest ? See'st thon thy lover lowly laid ? Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast f STA^ZAS TO JESSY. 9 STJIKZAS to JESSY.—^x Lofd Byron. rbe foliowinsf exquisite Sfanzas were addressed by Lord Byrou to his Lady, a i'ew months before their reparation. Therk is a mystic thread of life So dearly wreatli'd witfi mine alone, That Destiny's relen(!e?s knife At ouce must sever both or none. There is a form, on which these eyes Have often gazM with fond delight •, By dav %hat form their joy ?upplies, And dreaois restore it through the night. There is a voice, whose tpnes inspire Such thrill? of rapture in my breast, I would not hear a Seraph choir. Unless that voice could join the rest ! 'ihere is a face, whoi^e blushes tell Aflection''!5 tale upon IKhIon impart One additional charm with Ihe diiger of art r No, — fruitless the sear«h for fresh beauties must be, While all that is beautiful centres in thee. A PORTRAIT.— Br Mrs. Rolls. There is a calmness on that brf^w. Though traced bj lines of earthly care ; No anxious thought disturbs it now. For all seems fix^d and settPd there. There is a languor in that eye. The struggle of the soul seems pass'd ; No gathering tear is rising nigh. There all seems still and sunk at last. No swelling sigh that bosom heaves, It rises slowly like the wave, Which sadly tranquil ocean heaves, To wash the shipwreck'd seamen^« grave^. Yet scorn him not, ye selCsh train ! That murmur o'er each little woe ; Who ne'er a lonely f>ang sustain, Or bid one tear unnotic'd &qw I Yet never knew the noble pri^e, The unborn dignity of mind, That can its keenest feelings hidfi, When every earthly hopes' resign^ ! For on that high, that open brow. Once beam'd the energies of mind ; And that sunk eye, so languid now, Has glow'd with tenderness refin'd. But oh I that sadly swelling heart Conceals « wouixd that uust remain ; DESCRIPTION OF THE TEMPLE Ot LOVE. IS No soothing balm re1i«vcs its smart, Or binds the ever bleeding vein. Then, what cf\n wake the tender tear. Or bid the tide of genius roll. To him, who sees each future year, A deep, sad solitude of soul I DESCRIPTION OF THE TEMPLE OF LOT^E. From Rhododaphne. A poem in 2 vols. " Central amid the myrtle grove That venerable temple stands ; Three statues, raised to gifted hand?, Distinct with sculptured emblems fair. Creative, heavenly, earthly love. 7 he first, of stone and sculpture rude, From iramemorial time has stood ; Not even in vague tradition known Tfie hand that raisM that ancient stone. Of brass the next, with holiest thought, The skill of Sicyon's artist wrought. The tiiird, a marble form divine. That seems to move, and breathe, and smile. Fair Phryne to this holy shrine Convey'd, when her propitious wile Had forced her lover to impart. The choicest trearure of his art. Here, too, in sculptured beauty's pride, His skill bus placed by Venus' side ; Nor well the enraptured gaze descries, Which best might claim the Hesperian prize. Fairest youths and maids assembling, Dance the myrtle bowers arnonir : Harps to softest numbers tremblinc, Pour the ImpassionM strain alossg, tOVL S BlLLET-DOlfX. Where the poets' gifted song Hclds the intensely list'ning throng. Matrons grave, and sages grey, Lead the youthful train, to pay Homage on the opening day Of love's returning festival : Every fruit, and every flower, Sacred fo his greater power, Twin'd in garlands bright and sweet, They place before his sculptur'd feet, And on his name they call : From thousand lips, with glad acclaim, Is breath'd at once that sacred name, And music, kindling at the sound, Wafts holier, tenderer strains around ; The rose a richer sweet exhales ; The myrtle waves in softer gales ; Through every breast one influence flies ; All hate, all evil passion dies. The heart of man, in that blest spell, Brconi£5 at once a sacred ceil, Vv'here Love, and only Love can dwell." LOVE'S BILLET-DOUX. Love wrote a billet — what do you think Was Lo7''s paper, pen and ink ? Not such tilings as noortals use ; Itik of sable, quill of goose. Pewter stand, and paper wove Out of rag!<, wont do for Love, He cut the heart of a dove in two. And mixed the drops with honey clew ; In an amber vase he placM it then, And went to seek for a lover's pen. He pluck'd a ray from the setting sun, A plume of light, as the day is done. TO EMMA. is For Love is warm, the' night invades, And ]ove is bright among the shades. lie waited till the stars arose. Ere he his billet would compose ; He wrote on rose leaves, newly blown, Because their fragrance is his own. A glass ofcapillaire he quaffed, Then laughing wrote, and writing laughed- *' We were for each other born^ We are front each other torn ; JVhere we should.^ then let us 6e, J with you, and you with me." Love copied then his Billet-Doux, One for me and one for you ; He sealed them with his own dear kisa, And sent them by the mail of bliss. TO EMMA* My Emma, — dear, a sad farewell, For we alas I must part. And rent will be the magic spell That twin'd around each heart T^my love, That twin'd around each heart. Oh ! for many a rosy hour I've stedfast gaz'd on thee, But stern Fate's relentless power, Will tear thee far from me — my love, Will tear the far from me. But, Emma, wilt thou e'er forget The hours of bliss we've known, Or will a tear thine eyelid wet, To think that they are flown—my love, To think that they are flown. 16 GO, FDLE LAYS. When lightnings quiver through the sky, And howling thunders roll, Its flash reminds me of thine eje. Whose glaace lit on my soul — my Iov«, Whose glance lit on my soul. GO, IDLE LAYS/ Go, idle lays ! Tell her whose youthful heart beats high To future days, That now so fair in prospect lie, How soon our dearest transport? die ! Tell her whose cheek The blush of conscious pleasure wears, That they who seek To find delights unmix^'d with cares, Sliall own the fond deceit in tears. Say, that while charms, Which Hebe's transient pleasure lends, The bosom warms ; Time's envious breath the canker sends, That youth's enchanting season ends. To her whom health With ruddy blushes high illumes, Say, that by stealth Diseased© pallid Hrrinkles dooms The cheek that now so sweetly blooms. Tell her whose form The partial hand of beauty gav^, That from the worm Kind Pity's touch shall never save The charms that moulder in the grave ! to tHE RAINBOW. 19 What lovely visions yield their place To cold material laws. And yet, fail bow, no fabling dreams. But words of the Moat High, Have told why first thy robe of beams Was woven in the sky. When o'er the green imdelng'd earth Heaven's covenant thou didst shine, How canae the world's grey fathers forth: To watch thy sacred sign. And when its yellow lustre smil'd O'er mountains yet untrod, Each mother held aloft her child To bless the bow of God. Methinks, thy jubilee to keep The first-made anthem rang. On earth deliver'd from the deep— And the first poet eang. Nor ever shall the Muse's eye Unraptur'd greet thy beum t Theme of primeval prophecy, Be still the poet's theme. The earth te thee its incenae yields, The lark thy welcome sings, When ghttering in the fresheu'd fielda, The snowy mushroom springs. How glorious is thy girdle cast O'er mountain, tower, and town. Or mirror'ii in the ocean vast A thousand fathoms dowOo As fresh in yon horizon dark. As young thy beauties seem. As when the eag^le from the ark First spwted ia thy beam. B 1 2U THE WASP. — LOVELY ROSE, For faithful to its sacred page, Heav'n still rebiiiMs thj gpan ; Nor lets the type grow pale with age That first spoke peace to man. THE JVASP.'-'Bj Mr. Uptox, Little cruel renowned fly, Why the fair Maria sting t She ne'er cans'd distress a sigh. She ne'er a living thing. Though yon darM invade her breast, Did she treat thee like a foe ? Or thy frame too roughly press'd ; Like tyrant, No, O, no. When thy enemies drew near, Did she not avert thy death ? Did not mercy interfere, Issuing pardon from her breast > Here and there she let thee tread. Where no rude hand ever press'd ; Yet by spite or envy led, Thou could'st harm that tender breast. There, e'en there I no treachery's wing, Could'st not from base wrong assist ; Rut Ingrate, that bosom sting, Monarchs would have died to kiss. LOVELY ROSE. tvjfE.-^Snowy Rose go deck my fair, LovEi.i? Rose, upon th* thorn. Glittering with the pearls of morn, GRAVE OF THE DUr-XLIST. 2l Like a smile, that's gaily hun^ On beauty's templing lips go young; Gentleness may ever share thee. But the hands that rudely tear thee. Shall be stung and never wear thee. Charming Rose, go fell the maid, Where my fondest vows are paid, To throw on thee a smile as bright, As ever beam'd from morning's light ; Go, sweet flower, and also tell her, All th> beauties can't excel her, All thy beauties can't excel her. f . GRAVE OF THE DUELLIST. Bi R. S. Coffin. Who sleeps beneath this dreary mound. Whose ashes here repose ? Say not 'tis hoi}', hallow'd ground, There's blood upon the rose ! Does there a hero sleep beneath. Some chief of spotless fame ? The flow'ret? here no freigrauce breath, No marble speaks iiis name ! Is it the lover'* wilher'd form. That lips so dark and low ? ] hear no reqwiem but the storm, !So mournful sound of wo ! Is it religions' humble child. That sleeps in silence here ? Around this spot, so drear and wild^ I view no friendly tear. B 2 £2 WHAT 1 WISH. No — be whose dust is here enshrio'd, Possessed a ruffian's heart ; No wreath, by Beauty's hand entwioM, Did fame to hiofi impart. Religion wept not o'er his grave. No friend his loss did mourn ; He lived, of Honour false, the slave — He died his countrt^'s scorn. WHAT I WISH. I vvM-H my friends were more sincere, That slander's tongue would uever bay me. And if I whimper in one's ear A secret — that he'd not betray me. I wish for wealth — 1 wish for fame — And yet some good I would be doing ; Though I'd deppise a splendid name, , Bi'ilt OH my suffering neighbour's ruin. To the Attorney — cunning wit — Moct ht^artily I wish some conscience ; And (o fhe fopling * dandy'' light, 1 wii-h an end of all his nonsense. To each fair lass of gentle mind. And soul with virtue's bright flame burning \ I wish each pleasure, pure, refin'd, With each successive day returning. I wi^^h — I can't tell all I wish-^ But this 1 know, in plain, fair dealing ; I wish each hungry mouth a dish, Aud to the nek some sense of feelings OK Beauty. — suNSfliNE of the breast. OJf BEAUTY.— By S. Woodworth. BfiAFTT, sweet mysterious power, Secret spring of all that moves, Goddess of the Paphian bower. Mother of the infant lovers ; Which can make the wicked good, Savage sentiments abolish. Melt the bard, refine the rude. Teach the clown, the courtier's polish ; Which can make the simple wise, Or deprive the wise of reason ; Bid the Statesman sink or rise. Urge to lojaltj and treason. Now exciting modest fear. Now with lawless rudeness firing ; Prompting to be faithless here, There with constancy inspiring. 'Tis the power that banes or blesses, Where shall we its image find ? 'Ti? the nymph whose eye expresses, Charms l>elonging to the mind. SUXSHINE OF THE BE EAST. There is a " suufhine of the brt.;st,'' Can calm life's troubled way, Can soothe the soul with grief oppressed, Can give to joy a higher zesf, And brighten reason's ray. Whatever onr atate, where'er we roam. It lighten? every care, Expels i'oul diiscord from our home. And places sweet contentoient thers. B 3 MONTGOMERY.— Bethlehem's star. Suns, moons, shall set to rise no more, No longer radiance give ; Convulsions rend from shore to shore, But Virtue shall forever live. MONTGOMERY, MoNTGOMERT ! what bard e'er sung Sublimely sweet as he, 'Tis like the flow of angel tongue, His hallowed poesy. Not from Aonia's sacred mount Came his inspiring muse, Nor drew he from Castalia's fount. But drank Heaven's crystal dews. By nature nursM the poet grew Without the rules of art ; He trac'd the maze of feeling through, And studied at the heart. And oh ! where'er a heart is found To feel the sweet conlrol, His verse ihall charm, himself be crowned, Th« poet of the soul. BETHLEHEM'S STAR. There is a ray that breaks the gloom, Of Sorrow's years ; That gilds our pathway to the tomb, Dispels our fears. It rose with *' healing in ita beam" In darkest hour i 26 Ati«i shone in majesty supreme O'er Bttblehem's (ow'r. Bright star I through (hee the child of grief, At last is biPss'd ; Through thee Ibe mourner finds relief, The weary rest. JO *♦*». —Croaker, & Co. Air. — *' ShanoiCs Side. The world is bright before thee, Iti fiunimer flowers are thine, Its calm blue sky is o'er thee, 'Ihj bosom, Pleasure's shriue ; And thine the sunbeam piven To nature's mornii»g hour, Pure, warm, as when froua heaven U burst on Eden's bower. There is a song of sorrow. The dealh-dire o! the gay. That tells, ere dawn of morrow, Thtse charms may melt away ; That suns bright beam be s'laded. Thy sky be blue no niore. The summer flowers be faded, And youtij's warm promise oVr. Believe it not — though lonely Thy evening hotirs may be, Though Beauty's bark can only Float on a summer sea ; Tboas;h Time thy bloom is stealing, Thtre's still beyond hi? art. The wild flower wreath of feeling, The sunbeam of the heart. B 4 26 ODE TO IMPUDENCfc, ODE TO IMPUDENCE, Integer vifa3, scelerisque purus. Horace^ Book 1, Orfe 22, — Croaker, & Co. The man who wears a brazen face, Quite ft son aixt^ his e:Ias« may quaff; And whether m or out of plfice, May twirl his stick and laugh .' Useless to him the broad doubloon. Red note, or dollar of the mill ; Though all his gold be in the moon, His brass is current money still. Thus — when my cash was at low water, At Niblo'? I sat down to dine ; And, after a tremendous slaughter Amont; the wild fowl and the wine, The bill before my eyes was placM — When, slightly lurnmg round my head, ** Charge it,'''* cried I — the man amazed I Star'd — made his congee — and obey'd^ Ob I hear me to some forest thick, Where warapum^d Choctaws prowl alone ; Where ne*er was heard the name of tick. And bankrupt laws are quite unknown ; Or to some shop, by bucks abhor'd. Who to the longing pauper's sorrow, The curst inscription decks the board, Of " Fay to-day and trust to-morrow :"" Or plunge me in a dungeon tower, With bolts and turnkeys blast mine eyes : While, calPd from death by Marshall's power, The ghosts of murder'd debts arise I The easy dupes I'll wheedle still With looks of brass and words of honey ; And having scor'd a decent bill, P^y off my impudence for money. VAMTV OF FASHION KDWARD MOIIEIOIV, THE VANITY OF FASHION, ' A PARODY, ON PSALM 39 C. M. 'j'kach uie the measure of (he waist, Thnn maker of the gown, 1 vvoiilti i>nrve} the judgement, fasfe, And fa^liion of (he town. I'a'hion i.i all that v/e can boast. A change or two in time. We are at best a bill of cost, ^n ail our tiow'r and prioae. See the vain race of females noove, \A\s.t gi-psies o'er the plain ; Their laugh, their joke, their actions prove^ That all their noise is vain. Some walk the street to make a show, Soflne fiit across (he floor, Tbey spend their thne, they know not how And straight are seen no mora. Why shonld you place dependence, then, On such false e:lil'ring dust ? ThevMI njake your exjiectations vai«, And disa>.j)oiijl jour trust. Now then forbid jonr foolish hop.e. Your gallant feats recall ., Give ail )!>iir fickle follirs up, And iiiukc yuiif hcm;^ )our a!L Jfk XL.Z OF EDWARD MOP^TOX, WHO DIED FOR LOVE. ver Ri?.n died of love it wa« Edward Morion. The '-.ii'iy to wljom lie became early attaclied was married B £> .28 LINES OF EDWARD MORETON. to another. • Morton was present at the marriaa;e, and was never seen to smiJe aHerwards. The lady, it is saul, was unhappy in her union, and did not survive many year?. Morton died at Corfu. A Portrait of the Lady was lound in his port folio, wrapped up ia the following lines : ! SAW thee wedded — fhou didst ^o Within 3 €0 ADDRESS TO STEWART.— MARY LE MORE. May she love thee as I lovM — alone and forever — I may weep for thy loss, but my faith is uDshaken ; And the heart thou hast widowM will bless thee m breaking. The following is an address from Mrs. Morton of Bos- ton to Mr. Stewart, It is an exquisite eulogium upon painting as well as a just tribute to the painter. Stewart, thy portrait speaks ! With skill divine Round the light graces flow the vmving line ; Expression in its finest utterance lives, And a new language to creation gives. Each varying trait the gifted artist shows — Wisdom majestic in his bending brows ; The warriors open front, his eye of fire — As where the charms of bashful youth retire ; Or patient, plodding, and with wealth content. The man of commerce counts his cent per cent ; 'Tis characttr that breathes, 'tis soul that twines Round the rich canvass traced in living lines, Speaks in the face, or in the form displayed. Warms in the tint, and mellows in the shade, These touching graces, and that front sublime, Thy art shall rescue from the spoil of time. Thence the fair victim scorns the threat'ning rage And trembling step of slow advancing age. Still on her cheeks the rose of beauty blows. Her lips deep tint its breathing crimson shows ; Like the magicians wand, thy pencil gives Its potent touch, and every feature lives. MARY LE MORE. The fallowing is an epitome of Bristed's Mary le More, to the tuue of Eveleea's Bower, which on account lO-DAY. €1 of a peculiar trait in its character, I am too rood- -tjt n iiiau to niemiou h.s been discarded from gen- tee) society : Ye so'dit-rs of Britain ! The children ef Erio, Your merciless doings, lonj!:, long will deplore — For black is the the spot, VVhtre once ftood the cot, That was bles&ed by tlie sniiles of eweet Mary le More. By her father s)ie stood, Who lay stretched in his blood, And looked up to heaven hi? life to implore ; But his life-stream was flowing, Poor Derniot was goine. He groaned— and left tatherless Mary le More. Now a maniac she's seen On her once favourite green, f'ulHng flowers to wreath round the tomb of her sire Then she ir'ms^a a wild strain, IIow poor Dermol was slain. And left on the surf-beaten shore to expire. Oh soldiers of Hritain 1 Tlie children of Erin, Vonmnercile^s <=ioing«. long, long will deplore — For Derrnof (be l'>rave. Now sleeps in hii grave, And the blue waves of Erin hide Mary le More. TO DAY, The jo>!j of Hope let others boast And in rcverfion rest ; i> 4- ^52 STANZAS ON AN XRlSiHMAN, Anliciimtion cheers them most — 1 prize the blips possest. What scene? to-morrow may be brought, How bu*y and how gay, Will ne'er excite one anxious thought If pleasant be to-day. The Merchant trades to foreign lands, And braves the billowy main, And buys and sells and schemes and planji^ In hopes of future gain. But whelming waves or wasting fire May take his wealth away ; Uncertain good I ne'er desire, Let me be rich to-day. The Student emulous of Fame Iiooks to the distant prize, But mine e'en now an honor'd name Acknowledged by the wise, The Lover too dreams of delight Pis fondness to repay ; But ne'er let me the attachment slight Which crowns my love to-day. And those who time so fruitless spend In wishes to reform — To-morrow to be good intend, But think not to perlbrm ; A better purpose shall be mine. For danger waits delay, But heaven will to-morrow shine If virtuous prove to-day. STANZAS, 0/r AN IRISHMAN. The subject of the following stanzas, was a young m»u irom Ireland, who arrived at Baltimore during tho STANZAS ON AN IRISH5UN. 63 prevalence of the Malignant Fever there. He left the city oa foot^ a few days after his arrival, and being seized with the futdl malady, and deserted by his com- panions, died alone by the road side. From the green hil]« of Erin a wanderer parted. From Ihe gras^p of oppression the Fugitive flew, ilis heart (hrobbM with anguish ; the thrilling tear started. And lie bade his lov'd home and his country adieu. For the sons of fair Erin are children of feeling — ^ He with hardihood biav'd the keen blasts of the sky, While nnfelt on hie cheek the cold rain was congealmg, His heart yet glow\l with affections warm sigh. Oh ! how did he feel when he parted forever From tlie cot of his father, tlie wood and the glen. And iiow did lie feel when he sighing said '* never This valley shuli ring with my wild harp again.'* Oh I how did he feel when his lister clung to him, Entreittitig With tears her dear P,Urick to stay, His feelings^ were keen — but tfiey could not yubdue l.im, And he hied to the land of fair freedom away. lie saw the blue hills with mingled emotion, Of jov and regret, seem to sink in the sea, As swiftly he sailed o'er the far spreuduig ocean. And exultingly said in his heart, ''' Viu free." But scarce had he quitted the high swelling billow, When the monster Disease marked him out for his prey ; And a <'oid sod of earth was ihe wanderer's pillow^ Unattended he died — not a hand closed his eye. They made him a grave by the woodland seqtiestei'd, Where no tears of affection -hal! soften the sod, l?iit there m^y hip a-hes repose umrolested, Aiid his soui dweii in ji^y. aud in ptaoe with his God- D 5 64 STANZAS BY A LADY. STANZAS BY A LADY. The following stanzas were written by a lacl j a few days before her death. With the inspiration of fancy and feelins:, they unite the eloquence of truth, and breathe a raagnaniraity of soul worthy of a better fortune, — JV. Y. Statesman. 1 SAID to Sorrow''E peltins; storm That beat against my breast. Rage on I — thou inay'st destroy (his form. And lay it low at rest : But still the spnit that now brooks Thv tempest raging high, Undaunted on its fury looks With steadfast eye. 1 said to Penury's meagre train Advance ! — your threats I brave : My la&t poor life drop ye may drain, And crush me to (he urave : Yet s'ill the spirit (hat endures Shall mock your force the while. And meet each cold, cold grasp of yours With bitter smile. I said to proud Neglect and Scorn, Pass on I — 1 heed you not ; Though thus unfriended and forlorn, ^ By you I am forgot : My spirit which untamVl and free. No scoff? of yours aimoy, Draws from its own nobility It3 high born joy. I said to FricrHlship"'s menac'd bfo^. Strike deep I — my heart shall bear ; Thou canst but add one bitter woe To those already there : Yet still the spirit that sustains This last ^cvQie dietrers. WHISKEY. %b Shall smile upon its keenest pains, And scorn redress. I said to Death*s uplifted dart. Aim sure I — Oh why delay ; Thou wilt not find a fearful heart, A weak, reluctant prey ; For still this spirit, firm and free, Triumphant o'er dismay, Brij^ht in its own eternity, Shall pass away. WHISKEY. What's that which drains the poor mau'a purse, JNIakes his concerns grow werse and worse, And is to all u direful curse ? 'Tis Whiskey. What's that which makes the rich man fear, That poverty and want are near, And mis'ry lingering in their rear ? 'Tis Whiskey. What's that which murders health and ease, And brings by slow but sure degrees Pale melancholy and disease ? 'Tis Whiskey. What's that which like a Siroc wind, Or like some diabolic fiend, Withers the powers of the mind ? 'Tis Whiskey, What's that which for a moments' gladness, Turns sense and rea-son into madness, Aiid leaves the mind a prey to sadness ? »Tis Whiskey- © FAREWELL TO MY HOME. WhaCs that which nerveA]>z, persuade me tears are good To wash our moral cares away ; These eyes shall weep a sudden flood, And stream into a briny sea. Or if these orbs are hard and dry, (These orbs (hat never use to rain) Some star direct me where to buy One sovereign drop for all my pain. Were both the golden Indies mine. I'd give both Indies for a tear ; I'd barter all but what's divine ; Nor shall I think the bargain dear. But tears, alas ? are trifling things. They rather feed than heel our woe ; From trickling eyes new sorrow springs, As weeds in rainy seasons grow. 90 THE COMPLAINT. Thus weeping urges weeping on ; lo vain our miserifcs hope relief. For one drop calls another down, ■Till we are drownM in seas of grief. Then let these useless streams be staid, Wear native courage on your face ; These vulgar things were never made For souls of a superior race. If 'tis a rugged path you go, And thousand foes your steps surround, Tread the thorns down, charge thro' the foe. The hardest fight i» highest orown'd. THE COMPLAIMT.^By the same. 'TwAs in a vale where osiers grow By murmuring streams we told our woe, And mingled all our cares ; Friendship sat pleas'd in both our eyes, In both the weeping dews arise, And drop alternate tears. The vigorous monarch of the day, Now mounting half his morning way. Shone with a fainter bright ; Still sick'ning, and decaying still, Dimly he wander'd up the hill, With his expiring light. In dark eclipse his chariot rolPd, The queen of night obscur'd his gold Behind her sable wheels ; JHature grew sad to loose the day, The flow'ry vales in mourning lay. In mourning stood the bills. FRIENDSHIP. 91 Such are sorrows, Clark, I cry'd, Clouds of the brain grow black, and hide Our darkened souls behind ; In the young morning of our years Distenapeiing fogs have climbed the spheree^ And chock the lab'ring mind. Lo, the gay planet rears his head, And overlooks the lofty shade, New-brighfning all the skies ; But say, dear partner of my moan. When will our long eclipse be gone, Or when our suns arise ? In vain are potent herbs apply 'd Harmonious sounds in vain have try'd To make the darkness fly : But drugs would raise the dead as soon, Or clatt'ring brass relieve the moon , When fainting in the sky. Some friendly spirit from above, Born of the light and nurst with love, Assist our feebler fires ; Force these invading glooms away ; Souls should be seen quite thro' their clay*, Bright as your heavenly choirs. But if the fogs must damp the flame. Gently, kind death, dissolve our frame, Release the prisoner mind ; Our souls shall mount at thy discharge, To their bright source, and shine at large Nor clouded nor confin'd. FRIEJsTDSHIP.—By the same. Friendship, thou charmer of the mind, Thou sweet deluding ill, F 1 »2 DEATH OF TECUMPEH. The btighfest minute mortals find, And sharpest hour we feel. Fate has divided al) our shares Of pleasure and of pain : In love the cowifnrts and the cares Are mixM and join'd again. But whilst in floods our sorrow rolls. And drops of joy are few, This dear delight of niin£;)ing souls Serves but to swell our woe. Oh ! why should bliss depart in haste. And friendship stay to moan ? Why the fond passion cling so fast, ^Vhen every joy is gone ! Yet never let our hearts divide, Nor death dissolve the chain : For love and joy were once ally'd, And must bejoin'd again. DEATH OF TECUMSEH.—\ Parody. The war song rang true, for the savage brow low'r'd, And Ihe centinel red-man lay watching tlip. t^ky ; The runners had sunk on the ground overpow'r"'d, Too weary to live and too angry to die. Tfcunicth that night with no pallet of straw, Bv the (rng.d light faggot, that smok'd en the plain, At^i? niid watch of niii;ht, a stern vision he saw Thdt the Gr«=al Spirit sent to warm him again ; F r hi« thouirhts on the bat«'e field's dreadful array- Were fixM, and he dreaded the white menu's attack ; F ir h ' e, as onward they pour, Aad danger with courage nerves proudlj' his heart. Stay, stay with thy nation, thou art weary and worn. And fain was the war-broken Indian to go; For des-pair had rose with the dawning of morn, And the closiflg of day saw Tecumseh laid low. MOORE'S FAREWELL TO HIS HARP. Dear Harp of my country in darkness I lound thee, The culd chain of silence h^d hung o'er thee loii^, When proudly, my own Island Harp ! I unbound the?, And gave all thy chords to light, irtedom and song. The warm lay of love and the light note o( gladness, Have waken'd thy fondest, thy iiveliest thrill ; But so oft hast thou echoed the deep sigh of sadness, That e'en \u thy mirth it will s-teal from me still. Dear harp of my country I fHrewell to thy numbers. This sweet wreath of song is the last we shall lwiav\ Go — sleep with the sunrhrne of fame on thy slumbers, Till toucli'd by somi hhU(\ ie^s unvvorthy than mine. If the pulse of the patriot, soldier or h>ver, Have throbbed at our lay, 'tis thy glory alone ! It was ]ii;;lit as the wind passing heedlessly over. And all tke wild sweetness I waked was liiy own I F 2 94 THE COOiKNEY. THE COCKNEY, •' Maggots indeed may come to Jlies, But never can to oxen r2.se." A Cockney once, who wish'd to know, AskVl — *•' From what source do oxen grow Was told that beef set in the ground. Would wKfi youDg oxen soon abound. The Cit believed — took it for granted, Nor slept until some beef was planted. When this heM done, with joyful heart, Unto his wife did thus impart : " My dear — we now need toil no more For beef, as 1 shall soon have store ; I've just been planting in the ground, ■ The tiuest beef that can be found, We shall no doubt have great increase, From planting such a fattened piece ; For I have tramp'd the markets through, To get a piece I thought would do." Next week the Cockney went to vieAv His fine old beef changM into new ; When none appeared above the ground — By turning up the mould he found Hundreds of oxen, as he thought, I'lanting this beef to life had brought, Ah lucky hit for me he cries. And to his spouse with speed he hies — '' My dear," — says he with anxious look The wife with joy the news partook, Expecting something great to hear, Which he seemed eager to declare ; But when the story he related, Of rolling oxen, quite inflated, The wife bein? York^ soon understood That maggots only formed the brood. Then with flat fist came smacking round, She laid hei husband on the ground ; TO M Sayina; — *' Of all the fools I «ver k Cockneys, I am sure the world outa TO M JV. Adieu ye tender visions of delight. Which flattering kope'? delusive pencil drfr, When joys gay dancing chariuM my yoiuhrnl si^lu, And wingM by love the rapid moments flevs^ And thou too lovely charming youth, fare' • , To whom alone ray captive roul is given With whom the native artless virtues dwt •, Whose soul is spotless as the light of he .*:'\?. But driven from thee, and torn from ail I > >v?, I go to wind my solitary way ; Yet still where'er my lonely footsteps rove, My soul can never from my M n stray. Ah ! cease ye throbbing tumults in my brea?f. And thou too, lively mournful memory cehs ■ -, Soon shall my woes in calm quiescence rt .• ^, The calm quiescence of eternal peace. Wide o'er the tomb where rests my lone> When in the silent tomb forever laid, The sombrous yew his branching arms shall, spread., And moon beams glimmer thro' the sole^""* s!'^''--^ Say wilt thou then, by soft compassion led . To her who once too fondly held thee dear ; Bend o'er my early grave thy drooping head, And pay the tribute of a tender tear. F 3 §6 LINES OF COWPER — MISCHIEVOUS TONGUE. LAST LINES OF COWPER, The following lines are said to be the last that ever Cowper wrote. To Jesus the crown of my hope. My soul is in haste to be gone ; Oh I bear me, ye Cherubim, up, And waft me away to his throne. My Saviour '. whom absent I love. Whom, not having seen, 1 adore, Whose name is exalted above All glory, dominion, and power. Dissolve thou the bands that detain My soul from her portion in Thee ; Oh I strike off the adamant chain, And make me eternally free. Then, that happy era begins, When arr.ny'd in thy glory I shine, And DO longer pierce with my sins. The bosom on which 1 recline. ON THE EVILS OF A MISCHIEVOUS TONGUE. By T. G. Fessenden, Esa. '* Many have fallen by the edge of the sword, but not so many as have fallen by the to»gue." Eccl. Apoc. xxviii, 8, Tho' millions the sword of the warrior has slaughter'd; While fame has the homicide's eulogy rung ; Yet many more millions on millions are martyr'd — Cut off by that cowardly weapon, the tongue A NEW VEAr's wish — LOVE AND TIME. 97 One sword may be match'd by another as keen, In hattie the bold mr.n a bolder wtiay meet, B'.it t!ie fihaft of (he slanderer, flying nnseen From the quiver of nj&lice, brings ruin complete. An insclenf tovgxie^ by a taunt or a slhe, Enkindles heart-burnings and bloody affrays ; A Ireacherous tongue, when i.'nf)elPd by a bribe, The guiitless condemns, or a nation betray?. A smooth stibfle tongue viie seducers employ The fair sex to lure to libidinous thraiJ ; A slip of the tongue may its owner destroy. And the tongue of the serpent occasion'd the full. Then be it irnpre's'd on Cohmibian youth, That (he tongue is an engine of terrible force ; Sr)\ governed by reason, not guided by truth, A plague, which may desolate worlds in iti course. .l NEW-YEAR'S WISH. One female companion to ^^o/ten my cares. Two thousand a year to support my affairs : Tkiet dogs and a gur? when to sport I incline. Four b'-^rres and chaise to indulge me and mine ; Ftrt joily com})?iiiions with whom to make merry, Six disfYes each day. witii six glasses of sherry : •'crrn beds in my house for my friends and their leisure, Eight bofne'.hing or other, to add to tfjeir pleasure : JSi'inc pounds iii my pocket, whess cash I require, J^en favors are all that on earfh I desire: Au;*'JO '«^'ifh restless foot to roam, 98 BALLAD : ON WOMEN- Reaches a river's brink, and *' Come,'' He cries, *' have pity on my a2;e. What on those banks forgotteii, I Who mark each moment with my glass. Hear damjels.hear my suppliant cry. And courteously help Time to pass.*" Disporting on the further shore, full many a gentle nymph look\l on, Bade Love, their boatman, fetch the Cron< But one of all the group most staid. Still warii'd her venlVous mates ; " Ala?, How oft has shipwreck whelmM the maid Whose pity would help Time to pass." Lightly his boat across the stream Love guides, his hoary freight receives, And fluttering 'mid the sunny gleam, His canvass to the breezes gives ; And plying light his little oars, In treble now and then in bass, *' See girls," -sion quells and raises, Exploritig with a master's hand, INicft oiodiilatious iDazes — Till the rapt soul s^upreaiely blest, ' Beari)j> briahtly in each feature, And Ifueiy woicuan stands confest Tiic harmony of nature. • Hark I with the pensive in duct, The spriglitly horn it mingles ! Tlie i'fude"'£ the flute, and tiie Coquet, The lively harp that tins;le* I One boldly sweep; the leading strings, While plaintive '(other prates it ; Like Ceasar, Vliis to victory springs, Like Fabiiis that awaits it. With various giits fo make us blest, Love skills each charajing creature ; Thr.s lovely woman stands confest, Ihe liaruiony of nature. Maids are of virginals the type, Widows, the growling tyinbal, Scolds are the shrill and piercmg pipe, Fijrtn are the wiry cymbal. ^)1 wi\es piano fortt^s are, The bass, how old utaiyj. I found thee once tny only joy. A fond companion — dar'iay: toy, A welcome guest, and sole emnjoy, My little mug of E^^I^.^^ There by my side Pve cften laid ; Sometimes I plac'd thee near frry head ; And often sipp'd thee when in bed — My little mug of Brandy. How many ?hillmgs had I spent, Aye pounds, and still was not conteat., Till to the ale-house I had st nt, My little mug of Brundy. But now I find I can reclaim, And by my little mug have lain, RcsolvM to never touch again. My little mug of Brandy. My lovely bride and children they, With one accord, now bless the day, When I resolv'd to put away, My liille mug of Brandy. And now, when home 1 go at nisht. My partner pnii'e? with ;Tweet d<'lii^ht ; Instead of wron?, I fitid all rij^ht, Widiout njy litthi uiug of Brandy. ■ My little cotfii2;e snu^: and neat, M^' children cb/ih; d from head to feet, My flenses now ^'oih .^wccxly greet, Without my mug of Brandy. LITTLE THINGS ARE BEST- lOl My little cherubs round me cling-, My lovely spouse sits down to sing, And I am happy as a king, Without my mug of Brandy. So farewell now, thou little pest. Without thee Pm supremely blest ; Whene'er I see thee I detest Mv little mug of Brandy-. TIMOTHY TirrLE, Jr. LITTLE THINGS ARE BEST. A JED d'ESPRTT. Addressed to Miss C , r little, short Lady, When any thing abounds, we find That nobody will have it, But when there's little of the kind, Don't all the people crave it ? If wives are evil, as 'tis known And wofully confess'd. The man wko's wise will surely owa A little one is best.* The god of Love's a little wiglit. But beautiful as thought ; Thou too art little^ fair as light, And ev'ry thing is short ! t O, happy girl ! I think thee so. For mark the poet's :j: song-— *See Jusephus de Uxoribua — a very ancient and seri- ous jest. t Nulla volupfas longa f st.' Seneca. |Urs, Goldsmith and Young. 102 DEXTEROUS PUNNING— THE OLD BACHELOR.. ''Man wants but little here below, "Nor wants that little long /" DEX TERO US P U.^MjXG. The following anec<^ote was sent by a youni^ Lady to her lover, whose naooe wa% Noft, a few weeks before their marriuge. The nuptial knot was tied seen after the di&cerning lover decyphered its import. Why uree, dear sir, a bashful maid To change a single lot ? When well you know I've often said, In truth, 1 love you, Nott. For all your pain, I do, Nott, care, And trust nie on my li(e, Though you have millions, 1 declare, I would, Nott, be your wife. THE OLD BACHELOR. What CoLibiffEL I still solus ? no wife in the chase? Still afraid of the soul chillmg '^^o ?" Poor faint hearted soul J how I pity thy case \ More timid the older you grow. Here are blue eyes and black eyes, the fair and bru- nette — The grave, the coquette, and the prude ; From stately Mel'mda to fidgeting l^et, "I know it — / would if I could.'''* See Clara — sweet model of femenine grace ! How can you behold her unmov'd ; A temper more sweet, or a lovtlitr face. Might he worshipf''d but could not be lov''d. MELANCHOLY. 103 Will sighing and wishinj;, e'er bring to your arm?, A damsel so charming and good ? Not a smglc endeavor for so many charms ? *DonH teaze me—/ would if I coitW." On Maria's blae eye could an anchorite gaze. Nor kindle amain at the view-? With calmness to glance on so witching a face, Was reserv'd for a puppy like yon. The rose and the lily bloom bright on her cheek-r- Her lips ! how v/ith nectar imbuM ? Ton monster of dulness — and why don't you speak? 'Why hang ye ! — I would if I could.^'^ Have Anna's attractions no longer a charm ? Or what can have render'd them less ? Can sweetness so touching, and goodness so warm, Excite not a wish to possess ? Your sense of her merit, yon oft have avow'd. By heaven you deserve a ratan — Go — whine like a school boy, '•'I would if I ctfuld^^ ^'•God help me /— / will if I can.'>'> ^. MELANCHOLY. ~Br R. S. Coffut. She dwells by a stream, where the cypress and willow Are gem'd with the tears that tall from her eye ; The earth is her bed and the flint-stone her pillow, Midnight her mantle, her curtain the snow. Her cell is a cave, where the bright beam of morning, Ne'er pierc'd the chill gloom of its wildering maze, Where the sunshine of joy, youth's visage adorning, Ne*er warm'd wll^j its fire or cheer'd with its rays- 104 BOWER. OF PRAYER. The moon is her lamp, when the mist mantled mouHtain ohe rlHRibers at midnight, and walks o'er its steep ; Or leans on the rock of a chrjstaline fountain, And sigfis to the tempevt that hovvis o'er the deep. Her tresses are dark as the wing; of the raven. Her robes are all wet and her bosom is bare ; Like a barque on the waves, 'mid the whirlwinds of heaven, Slie wanders distracted, or sinks in despair. BOW EH OF PRAYER.-'By T. Ormsbek. To leave my dear friends, and with neighbours to part, And move from my home, afflicts not ray heart ; Like the thought of absenting myself for a day, From the blessed retreat, I have ciiosen to pray. Dear Bower! where the pine and poplar have spread, Aad woven tht-ir branches, a roof over head ; Hovr oft have I knelt on the evergreen there, And pour'd out my scul to my Savior in prater I The early shrill notes of a lovM nightingale, Th:d dweit in the bower, I observ'd as mj bell — Tu call me to duty, whih^ birds in the air, Sang anthems of. praises a^ I vitnt to prayer. How sweet were the zephyr.", perfurn'd by the pine, Tiie ivy, the balsam, and wild eglantine ; Yft sweeter, O sweeter I superlative were. The jovs I there ta.sted in answer to prayer. For Jesus, my Saviour, oft deign 'd to meet, And grace with his presence, my humble retreat ; "^ft fiii'd me with rapiures and blessedness there, nuiting iu Ucavtn'.^ ovvn language my pray**r. Dear Bower ! I must leave you and bid you adieu, And paj my devotions in places that are new ; Well knowing my Saviour resides every where. And can in all places, give answers to prayer. HOPE. Hope is a dear enchanting guest, That dwells within the human breast ; It sends ifs ever cheering rays, And leads our minds to happy days. 'Tis hope affords our evVy joy. Gives happiness without alloy, Supports the disappointed mind, Assuages grief of Q\''iy kind. Hope lulls the troubled mind to rest, Drives anxious cares from ev'ry brea&t, Bids us on future joys depend, And m^kes contentment here our friend. How oft amid affliction's gloom, We pensive, mourn our hapless doom, Till hope, the best of passions here, Is sent, our aching heart to cheer. Behold the pious hearted sage. Whose locks are silver'd o'er with age, Now bending under stern disease. While pain and anguish on him seize. Say what directs consoling ray. And cheers him in life's dreary way ? It is a hope of future peace. When sorrows shall forever cease. DOVE-EYED MODESTY. Hope gives his mind a sweet repose, And pleasure in perspective shows, Lessens his j^rief and trouble here. And in his eye dries ev'ry tear. Hope is a friend of human kind, The health and vie;orofthe mind ; Like sumnier^s evening mild and sweet, 'Tis ever found with joy replete. DOVE EYED MODESTY, Bx THE MuUJSTAIN MlJMSTREL. There's a gem of countless worth. Sometimes found upon the earth — Would you this fair brilliant see ? It is dove-eyed modesty. Pure and spotless as thou art. Still thou rulest o'er my heart — How I prize and worship thee. Lovely dove-eyed modesty. All (he graces in thee meet, Pride is prostrate at thy feet ; What thou art she fain would be, Lovely dove-eyed modesty. How thy graces all divine. In retirement mo«t do stiine, Thou 'vould'sl from our notice flee, Lovely dove-ejed modesty. Thon art beauty, thou art worth, Fairest gem tjpon the earih; I thee ofl'ner fuiu would see, Lovely dove-eyed modesty. RESENTMENT. 107 RESEXTMEj\T,-~By the Same. And dwell? resentment now within noy breast, And can I nourish the tinweloome griest ? And can I lodj^e thee in my inrtios^t heart, As near as life and quite as loth to part ? Art thou an object of mj fond desire, Thou child of Sat?»n and offspring' of fire ? The worst of placfc>: th^ai f'tr in hell had birth, To curse mankind, tvhiie here upoo fhe earth ; Ai'i black and lojithso.'ne zs ihy da^^k abode, Where thou dost thirtt for vengeance and for blood? FeJl passion' no -, I will net giy« thee room, Be gene thou Deoigo this is not thy hom-. ; 'Tis not thy home, ^b4 s^re I ne'er will drive, Some kind*.r pass ioh from it^ native hive, To give thte roorja ; O thou infeina: fiend, I will not e'en one moment be thy friend. Thou hast no friend but every man's thy foe, And foes thou mak'st where e'er thou chance to go. We are not friends, and never sure can be, For rn my breast I have no room for thee, > Nor shalt thou ever lord it over me. ) There is no peace, no comfort and no rest, When once thou hast possession of my breast ; AH commotion and all love must flee. And leave my heart to hatred and to thee. 1 would not live thus for one single hour. Beneath thy rule and thy tyrannic power. If I must live 'neath thy tyrannic sway, I with the bears and wolves would flee away, Or with the owls and bat* would shun the light of day. ^ 108 FREEDOM'S STAJVD^RD.— Br the samk. When o'er proud Europe's wide domaiDs, Fair freedom glanc'd her eager eyes, And saw her blood slain'd crimson plains. She strelchM her pinions 'ward the skies — But bending down to earth again, She saw Columbia's western star, And pitying still poor wretched man, She cri'd "I'll plant my standard there." She hasted 1o the chosen coast, With hardy vet'rans for her train, Worthy to be bold freedom's boast. And eross with her the raging main — When on Columbia's shores so wild, She cast her eyes round wide and far, And as she view'd her forests, smil'd, She said, '"-I'll plant my standard there." A savage horde — a motley crew, With cruel hearts and bloody hands, W^ith jealous eyes the pilgrims view, And swear to drive them from their lands-— Fair Freedom saw her chosen train, Nor let their cries be lost in air ; She cried "be valiant, fig-ht like men. And I will plant my standard there." When Europe saw their happy state. They sought to forge them galling chains, And wreak her malice and her hate, On Freedom's sons, on Freedom's plains— Sut freedom still will guard her sons, And drive her haughty foes afar ; The battle fought, the vict'ry won, She cried "I'll plant ra.y standard there." If to invade fair Freedom's <-hore. Some hostile despot even dares ; FAREWELL TO MY YOUTH. 109 Then kt Colnnabia's eade soar, And bear the gallant stripes and stars — Make all respeot bold Freemen's rights, In blissful peace, or bloady war; For in your ranks fair Freedom fights, And she will plant her standard there. Let Freedom'*3 favorites guard with care, The boon they have so dearly won ; And haughty tyrants ne'er will dare. To trample on their rights again : Then shall fair Freedom from on high. Still make Columbia's sons her care, ^nd her blest name shall never die, She will protect her standard there. FAREWELL TO MY YOUTH. By B. H. Wilson. Farewell to the days •f my youth. Which fled with th« speed of a dove ; They've left me the vision of truth. And taught me true lessons of love. Farewell to the smiles she has given, The joys I once stole from her arra.x*, They've left me a prospect of heaven, A shelter from outward alarms. The pleasure which then oft arose From trifling anuisement and glee, And pain that succeeded the close, Are now alike useful to me. The follies that mark'd my career, To the sight of reason's domain, May serve when temptations appear, To teach the true worth of a name/ G 1 1 10 THE CONNECTICUT.— ODE TO OONTENTMEKT. The dawn of that hope I wiil hail, Which illumiries tiie path of the brave, And shows the true coiiii^e we must sail. With peace and content to the grave* THE COJ^KECTWUT. Wrf.re the Connecticut, through irieadows gceeii, 'Jofioiv in sable banks, with pleasures seen, Where in splendor so great we oft behold, O'er cataracts its waters &oy! so hold ; '^Behold ! Nature is gracefulJj display'd \\\ all meanderings; in dress array^l, 'i'hou Diighty deep ! can jou with her compare. In rnj.jesly so grand, sublimely fair: Here jire no terapestf, aofl no surges roll To dash the waves o'er cnatiy weary soul. See here, the sun, that sfiines with friendly beanas^ Observe dancins in the noblest of streams ; Huw deligjhtful (he task its banks to tread, But On; lit, silence resembles the dead 1 I've oft observ'd the noble Mohawk run^ i'rom the , in Cabins of crini>>(>n, proj^ell'd by jj-e the clouds of woe, And gild the [>easaat'fe gravco TIDE MONTHLY ROSE — MENTAL BEAVTV. U^ THE MONTHLY ROSE. Just like love is this lone rose, TWs household flovv'r, which monthly blows W/iose .«taik and leaves are always seen. Ever blooming, ever green — Jusl like Love. Airection''g shoot, it first appeared, For 'twas by feaiale kindness rear'd ; It greu' a little timid flowV, Reckless of its hjdden pow'r — Just like Love. Its perfume, to a favor'd few, (Unlike the wild-flower, drench'd in dew,) Is eiven— nor asks for other praise ; But ever sliuns the vulgar gaze — Just like love. Mid Winter's snows its flowVs appear-— Its sweets defy the changing year ; Nor till death has laid it low, Will it blight, or mildew know — Just like Love. MEJsTAL BEAUTY.— By Mr. Fitzgerald. The charm? which blooming t)cauty shews From faces heav(;nly fair, We to the lily and the rose^ With semblance apt, compare : Vvith seniblance apt, for ah ! howfot.n, How soon they all decay ! Tlic lily droops, the rose is. goae, And ba<(H:»v f^desawnv. 120 VILLAGE GREATNESS. Birt when bright virtue shines confest With pweet discretion join'd ; When mildness calms the peaceful breast. And wisdom guides the mind ; When charms like these, dear maid I conspire Thy person to improve, They kindle generous chaste desire. And everlasting love. Beyond the reach of time or fate These graces shall endure ; Slill like the passion they create, £terna], constant, pure. VILLAGE GREATJ^ESS,~^By Wm. Rat, In every country village, where Tenchimnies smokes perfume the air Contiguous lo a steeple : Great gentlefolks are found a score, Who can't associate, any more With common " country people." Jack Fe.lloti\ horn among the woods, From rolling logs, now rolls in goods, Enovigh awhile to dash on — TeJls negro stories, smokes cigars, Talks poiiticljs, decides on wars, And lives in stylish fashion. Tim Oxgoad^ lately from the plough, A polish'd gentlemen is now — And talks of country fellow s ; But ask the fop what books he's read. You'll find the brain-pan of his head, As empty as a bellows. THE MABAGASCAR JIOTIIEK. 1^1 Miis Fuddle lately from the wheel, Begins quite lady like to feel, And talks affectedly trenteel. And sings some tasty songs too ; But my veracity impeach, If ?he can tell what part of speech Gentility belongs to. Without one spark of wit refinM, Without one beauty of the mind, Genius or education ; Or family, or fame, to boast. To see suck genlrij rule the coast, Turns patience to vexation. To clear such rubbish tVom our earth, Should real genius, mental worth. The aid of science lend you ; You might as well the stye refine, Or cast your pearls before the swine, TheyM only turn and rend you. THE MADAGASCAR MOTHER. The following is not an European fiction; it is a re;>i Madagascar song, brought from that island by tiie Chevalier de Perni, a prose translation of which majf be seen in vol. 1. p. 551, of Varieties of Literature. •'Why sbfink'st thou weak girl! why this coward «Ic«- pair ? Thy tears and thy struggles are vain ; Oppose me no more ; of my curses beware 1 Thy terrors and griefs I di-rdain." The mother was dragging her daughter av/ay, To the white man, alas I to be eoid, 122 A wis«. "Oh spare ine 1 (she cried) sure thou would'gt not betiay Tiie child of thj bosom for gold ! *'The p1edi,'e of ' J\'ot all the favors coquette show^ And smiles the/op ts heir to ^ Could tempt me to become a beau. And feel as beaux appear to.'^ No malice, no envy inspires The bard, his advice to disclose ; The favor a foppling acquires, AVill never disturb my repose. Tho' sad, he must always seem gay ; Tho' restless, appear at his ease ; Must talk, wheti he's nothing to say, And laugh, when theie's nothing to please. Must never look shy, nor afraid ; Approve of nonsensical clatter, And smile at whatever is said. Good, bad, or indiff 'rent — no matter. If Nancy say, " Croeius was poor," 'Tb his to say yes^ and agree ; Or Charlotte, two threes are but four, '' Correct Ma'am, just four they must be.'' Should Susan remark, *' it is hot," His answer must be, it is so ; If Mary observe, " it is not,'* To her he consents and says, no. 126 HIGHLAND MARY, Would any dispense with his mind, Bow, whe&dle, sigh, whimper and pray, And hoodwinkM be led by the blind, To such I have only to say, Quit Paley and studdy to please. Read Chesterfield's system of laws. And then you may bask at yonr ease, In the sunshine of coquettes^ applause. HIGHLAND JVJ^HF.— Tune. «' Catharine Osie.'^ Te banks, and braes, and streams around, The castle o' Montgomtry, Green your woods, and fair your flowers, Your waters never drumlie ! There stiramer first unfurled her robei. And there the lanpesl tarry ; For there I took the last farewell O' my sweet Highland mart. How sweetly bloomM the gay green birk, How rich the hawthorn blossom ; As underneath their fragrant shade, I claspM her to my boeom ! The golden hours, on eagles' wings, Flew o'er me and ray dearte ; For dear to me as light and life, Was my sweet Highland Mary. Wi' many a vow and lock'd embrace, Our parting was so tender ; And pledged aft to meet again. We tore ourselves asunder ; .But Oh! fell death's untimely frost. That nipt my flower to early ! Now green's the sod, and cauld's the clay, Ti;&t wraps my Highland Mary I I'd RATH5R BE E^CUs'p. 127 O pale, pale now, those rosy lips, I aft hae kissM sae fondly ! And closed for ay, the sparkling ^laTice, That dwelt on me sae kindly ! And mouldering now in silent dust. That heart that loe'd me dearly I But still within ray b.osom's core, Shall live my Highland Mary. I'D RATHER BE EXCUSW. By Mrs. Rowsow. Returning from the fair one eve, Across yon verdant plain, Young Harry said he'd see me home ; A tight and comely swain. He beggM I would a fairing take, And would not he refus'd ; Then ask'd a ki?s. I blushing cried, ' I'd rather be excus'd.' * You're coy,? said he^* my pretty maid, 1 mean no harm I swear ; Long time I have in secret sigh'd For you my pretty fair. But if my tenderness offends, And if my love's refus'd, I'll leave you' — ^What ! alone'— said I, M'd rather be excus'd.' He press'd my hand, and on we walk'd Ht warmly urg'd his suit: But still I was to all he said Most obstinately mute. H ] i.28 THE KAY THAT BEAMS — THE PRISON, At length got home, he angry crj'd, ' My passion is ahiiii'd — * Then (lie a maid' — ' Indeed/ said f, ' Vd rather be excua'd.' THE RAY THAT BEAMS FOREVER. Thkre is a bloom that never fades, A rose no storm can sever. Beyond the tulip's gaudy shades, A ray that beams forever* There is a charm surpassing art, That speaks in every feature ; That twines around the feeling heart. It is thy charm, O nature '. Then stranger, if (hou fain wouldst find, 'I'iie rose no storm can sever, Go seek it stranger, in the mijvd, The ray that beams forever. THE FRISON.^Bm Dr. Daiuvix. O WKLCOME, debtor! in these walls 'Ihy cares, andjoy»; and loves forego ; Aj>proach (a brother debtor calls) And joiu the family of woe ! Did fort(jne with her frowning brow Thy h^te and early toils witijstand ? Or slandt r strike (lie fatal blow, Or giipiug us'ry's iron hand ? S.'ty, does a wife, to want cousignM, While wtc['iug babes surround her bed, I SAW FROM THE BEACH. 129 Peep throu2:h, and see (he fellers bind Those hands that earn'd their daily bread ? Does .«he in vain on knees that bend, The marble heart of wealth iniolore ? Brealhlesn pursue ?o»ne flymg friend, Or btat in vain the cbsing door ? Look up, and share our scanty meal ; F^'or lis some bright', r hours ma) (low ; Some angel break these bolts of ?(eeJ, For Iloffard mark* and feels our woe. / S.I IF FROM THE BEACH. By T. Moore. I saw from the beach, when the morning was shining, A bark o''er the waters move gloriously on ; I came when the sun o'er, that beach was declining, The bark was still there, but the waters were gone ' Ah ! such is the fate of our life's early promise. So passing the spring tide of jojs that are gone ; Each wave that we danced on, at morning ebb*! dow, And leaves us at eve, on the bleak shore alone. ■pJe'cr tell me the glories serenely adorning The close of our daj, the cahn eve of our night ; Give me back, give me buck, the wild freshness of morning, Her clouds and her tears are worth evenings best light. Oh ! who could not welcome that moment's returning, When passion first wak'd a new life through his frame, ' And his soul, like the wood, that grows precious in burning, Gave out all its sweets to love's exqnisile flame. H 2 130 THE TREBLE VOICE. 2 HE TREBLE rOICE.—^Y Seleck Osborr That voice — O, how its warbling thrill Each nerve with rapture, while I hear I While every earthly thought is still. And none hot purest pleasures fill My ^senses, crouding at my ear. Hark- — how it swells! so swells my soul Withjov exalted, pure and holy; — It rises 1— Earth, thy base control I spurn .' Adieu, vain world of folly ! For I disclaim all grovelling joys — 1 feast on sound — I live on song — 1 rise, immortal, with that voice. To heavt-n, where all such strains belong. In tender cadence now it falls — Breathes gently through the sacred dome. Like the angeiic tone that calls A kindred-spirit to its home. ^Xis ended — but the lovely strain Still breathes delight on Fancy's ear ; Mortal I find myself ag^n, i know it by this sla/ting tear : 'Tis not my present sense alone I'hat wakes, sweet Laura at thy song ; Cut images of ///cajwrc/zoifTz Around the seat gf memory throng. For then I think of other days , When ONE, with heart as pure as thine, Beside rae rais'd the hymn of praise, And blended all her toul with mine, Sing on, fair warbler ! O', restore The dear illusion to my view ; bONG FllOM MOORE. 131 To sooth my widowed heart once more The dream of past delights renew. SoNG—PVom Moore's "Light of the Ilaram," in Lalia Rookh — sung by queen Nourmahal, in the guise of an Ar^ian maid, and addressed to Selira of or Jehan GCilre, the Emperor. Fly to the desert, fly wilh me, Our Arab tents are rude for thee — But, Oh! the choice what heart can doubt, Of tents wilh love, or thrones without? Our rocks are rough— 'but smiling there Th'acacia waves her yellow hair lioneiy and sweet, nor loved the less For flowering in the wilderness. Our sands are bare — but down the slope The silv'ry footed antelope As gracefully and gaily springs A« o'er the marble courts of king?. Then come — thy Arab main will be The lov'd and lone acacia tree ; The antelope, whose feet shall bless ^Vith their light sound thy loneliness. Oh I there are looks and tones that daij An instant sunshine through the heart, As if the soul that minute caught Sooie treasure, it through life had sought I As if the very lips and eyes, Predestined to have all our sighs, And never be forgot again, Sparkled and spoke before us then I H 3 152 ON AN INfANT CHILD. So came thy every glance and tone, When first on me they breathed and shone ; N(iw, as if brought from other spheres, Yet welconrie, as if lov'd for years. Then fly with me — If thou hast knowa No other flame, nor falsely thrown A gem away that thou hast sworn ;5hould ever in thj heart be worn. Come, if the love thou hast (or me Is pure and fresh as mine for thee — ■ Fresh as the fountain under ground, When first 'tis by the lapwing found. But if for me thou dost forsake bome other maid, and rudely break Her worship[)cd image from its base, To give to me the ruined place ; Then fare thee well I'd rather make My bower upon some icy lake. When thawing suns begin to shine, Phan trust to love so false as thine. OJV AN IKFANT CHILD. SWeet little babe come take thy rest, Th}'^ mother's arms ehall keep thee vrarm Shall give thee nurture from her breast, Protect thee, that thou tak'st no harm. Heaven lent thee as a pretty treasure — Thy little barque shall safely sail ; Aftbrdingjoy, delight, and pleasure—- Smooth o'er this life's tempestuous gale. THE HARVEST ROSE. 133 Thy stature's small — thy features yonng, Thy days just growing with thy strength ; Tioie in its whirl will make thee strong, And give thoee days their utmost length. The rose must bud before it bloom ; The lilly with the rose will vie ; Your little heart shall be as noon, Thy virtues never, never die I THE HARVEST ROSE. By J. M'Grbary: When autumn wing'd the blast with power To sweep the bending forests bare, Deep in the vale I found a flowef, A little rose that lingered there, Though half its blushing sweets had fled, Its leaves were edged with winter snows : Yet still the fragrant odor? shed. Declared love's emblem was a rose. With curious, though with eager hast«; I seiz'd the little fading prize, Then in ray bosom fondly preas'd, The fainty blushing floweret lies ; I fled i nipalie nl to my fair. My heart with fond affection glows ; "A fl.nver, my love to deck your hair, A little modest harvest rose. When first its vivid blooming hue The armorous zephyrs kiss'd with pride, O then, mv life, it look'd like you, When first I claspM my blushing bride. H 4 13* aiSTE VUTOB. Its fragrance ttill, thoue;b flown the dye« la thy pure soul, where friendship jclowa ,► It proves, though love's warm ardor die That friendehip lives — sweet harvest rose I'* The following beautiful stanzas, bj Mr. Bowrig, are from a small volume just published, entitled '•''Muiifi* and Vtiptrs.'*'* SISTE VICTOR, I Look around thee ! See Decay On her wings of darkness, sweeping Earth's proud monuoients away ; See the Muse of History weeping O'er the ruins Time hath made ; Strength in dust and ashes laid — Virtue in oblivion sleeping. Look around thee ! Wisdom there Careless Death confounds with Folly, In a common sepulchre ! See the unrighteous and the holy, Blended in the general wreck. Well those tears may wet (hy cheek- Tears of doubt and melancholy. Look around thee ! Se»ut>'s light Is extinguished ; Death assembles Youtfcr's gay morn, and Age's night — ., And the steadfast mountain trembles At his glance, like Autumn's leaf: All, he cries, is vain — is brief — And the t) rant-ne'er dissembles. Look behind thee I Cities hid In the night of treacherous story •, Many a crMmbling pyramid. SJ9TE VIATOR. 13& Many a pile of senseless glory, Teiiiples into ruins hiiri'd, (Frapnien(s of an earlier world,) Broken fanes, and altars hoary. Look behind thee I Men, whose frown Made whole nations quake before theoa — What is left of tiicir r«^nown ? — Wreck= around, oblivion o^er them. Kings and conquerors ! — where are they ? — Aek yon vvorthiess heapy of clay. Oh, despise not, but deplore them ! Look behind thee ! B irds sublime, Suiilinsj; nynipb?, and solemn sages — Go ! inquire their names of Time ; Bid it read its eariifst pages. Foolifi) conqueror I If Fame Guard throu^ih years a cherished name-- Fame itseil decays in ages. Look before thee ! All the glare, Alt the pomp around ihfre glowing, All that charais the eye or ear, Strain^ of softest tuubic fiowini^, Grace and Beauty — ^ii are sped Towards the ruins of the dead — Thither thou and thine are going. Look before thee ! At yon vault, Where Tune's ravage is rec^^rdcd, Tl.cu wiit be compelled to halt ; Thou wilt be no more regarded Than the meekest, meanest slave, Sleeping in a common grave, Unrespected — unrewarded. Look l>efore (hee ! At thy {tei Monarchs eleep like meaner creature* i Where the voices, now so sweet f H : J 36 LINES, ON SEEING CAPT. FARTRIDCtE'S CADtlS. Where (he fair ones"* smiling features? Hopest thou to escape the tomb ? I'hat which was thy father's doom, VViJl be thiue, thy soa's and nature''s ! Look ABOVE thee ! There indeed May thy thoughts repose delighted. If thy wounded bosom bleed. If thy fondtist hopes are blighted — There a stream of comfort flows, There a sun of splendor glows : Wanuer, then, no more benighted. Look above thee ! Ages roll, Present, past, and future blending— Earth hath nought to soothe a soul 'Neath Affliction's burthen bending, Nothing 'gainst the tempest's shock ; Heaven must be the pilgrim's rock. And to Heaven his sti ps are tending. Look above thee ! Never eye Saw such pleasures a« await thee I Thought ne'er reached sueh scenes of joy Ab are there prepared to meet thee : Light undying — serafihs' lyres — Angel- welcomes — cherub choirs Smiling thro' Heaven's doors to greet thee. LmKS, Suggested on seeiii!^ C&pt. PAaxiiiDGE and his Cadets passing homeward from their vifit to Concord, N. H. in the stimu)(M- of 1822. Hark I mu^^ic'.' softly ^itcaling on fhe ear I ■•'The concord <»( swt.ct sounds Hp,,)roiu;!.es near ; / 'Tis a u*e!odicu3, but nirtrtial e;<. L1NE5, ON SEEING CAPT. PARTRIDGE'S CAD£TS. 13' *'The spirit-stirring fife's shri!! notes are there ; And lo ! a beauteous group, in neat array, Dt-cent deportment, and in spirits gay, With even step pursue their time-raark\l way. The t^ush of health is on each youthful cheek, Each eye does intellect and ardor speak ; A standard* waving graceful in the air. And the accoutrenients of war, they bear. Sole, and conspicuous in the van, appear* (Mature in stature, and of riper years, Learned, to instruct, and skilful to command,) The virtuous leader of the hopeful band. O sacred trust I a mind like his must feel. These future guardians of hi^ country's weal To train in virtue's path and science' road. And teach to serve their country, and their God ! These are his tasks, and this his daily care; (Happy the youths, who those attentions share !) *'The generous purpose in the glowing breast To fix," as if indelibly imprest, ^'To pour the fresh instruction o'er the mind," Till thought leads on to thought — all nnconfined—* Save where the Almighty limits human mind ; To excite a virtuous strife to emulate. And honor's nicest sense to cultivate. Not sucli as tires the maddened duellist ' Or nerves the ruder boxer's strong-clench'd fist : A nobler honor theirs — an honest pride — M'hich scorns a frneanness Iho' the mean deride. Pupils of early discipline, innr'd To bt^ar with firmness, what may be endur'tl ; ♦Presented by the young ladies of the Literary School in Cwucord. tBy meanness here, is meant any thing inconsistent with the dicfatts of a slricl'y virtuous and independent mind. 138 M.Y BROTHER. To sraile at toil, and c^ilmly suffer pain, (No stoic apathy, nor proud disdain — ) With soul roagnanimous — that soul alone, Feels others'' woes and patient bears its otcn. Columbia's sons! we hail yon with delight ; And while receding from the eager sight, Emotions of no ordinary kind Rush on the soul, and swell the thinking mind, Which through Hope's brightening perspective views, ('Tis no *ain phantasm of a dreaming Muse) Patriots, heroes, sages, statesmen, rise And ''true and faifhfuP' legates of the skies. O press ye on, in glory's bright career; That glory, which iias but commencement here I And when in future life, "in arts or arms, Diffusing blessings, or averting harms ;" Crown'd with the welt-earnt meed of honest fame. The lasting honors of deserved good name: May these reriections, sweet each ujind pervade. His that he taugh.t, and yours^ that you obeyed. And when at last, summon'd to yield up bfsalfe,. And singly pass the iron gate of death ; Ma^ Faith and Hope their kindly aids apply, Sustain the soul, and help the man to die ! May Charity, arrayed in robes of light, DJppel the horrors of the gloomy night ; And the glad spirit wing its happy way To (he pure realms of everlastmg day I MY BROTHER. Written by a Youth of only fifteen years tf ti§f. Who oft with me at marbles play'd. And all my little playthings madcj MY BROTHER. 139 Mj kite or ball — though still unpaid ? My Brother. Who made a sled when winter came, With little ropes to draw the same, And on its sides curv'd out my name ? My Brother. Who after him my sled would tow Swift o'er the ice, where'er I'd go, And marked the gliding wave below ? My Brother. Who smiPd to chase my childish fear, And wip'd away tlie falling tear, When the cold ice crack'd loud and near ? , My Brother. Solicitous, who taught to me The seeds of science, A, B, C, On paper mark'd them out for me ? My Brother. Who to the school my books would bear, And lead me o'er the bridge with care. And lesson find for me, when there ? My Brother. Who help'd me make my water-mill. And built the dam across the rill, And viewM it turn froni^ yonder hill ? My Brother, Who gathered apples from the tree, Chesnuts and walnuts too — for me, "VVlio cheerfully did all this ? — 'twas thee, My Brother. 140 MY BROTHER. Those joyful days have had an end ; But oh ! to me thy kindness lend, And still remain my tenderest friend, My Brother. And may I ever grateful be For all thy kindness shewn to me, And ne'er withdraw my Jove from thee, My Brother. Thus through this vale of life below, May we the sweets of friendship know, And share each other's joy or wo, My Brother. When earth decays, and nature dies. Oh ! may we, meeting in the skies, United be by stronger ties, Mv Brother. THE END. Ij\DEX. ■ Page Address to Mary in Heaven - - * 7 Stanzas to Jessy - - - 9 Dirge of a Highland Chief . - - 10 Woman - . _ 11 A Portrait _ - _ 12 Description of the Temple of Love - - 13 Love's Billet Doux _ _ „ 14 To Emma _ « _ 15 Go, Idle Lays . _ _ 16 Battle of flohen Linden . > _ 17 To the Rainbow . « _ 18 The Wasp - - . 20 Lovely Rose - . - - 20 Grave of the Duellist - . _ 21 What I Wish - - _ 22 On Beauty - - - 23 Sunshine of the Breast - - . ?3 Montgomery - - - 24 Bethlehem's Star - - _ 24 To *♦** - . _ 25 Ode to Impadence , _ „ 26 The vanity of Fashion . » _ 27 Court Revels - . _ 29 Beauty in Tears ^ - - 30 My Native Vale - - - 30 The Meeting - . - 31 Lyjng - - - 32 The grave of Burns -, _ _ 53 Lines, by Mrs. Barbauld ^ . _ 34 Hymn, by Hon. J. Q. Adams - - - 35 142 INDEX. To Miss *** Poem, bj J. Montgomery Song : Corae Raymond * Coiin and Lucy - . - The Water Melon Lines on (he plant Myasotes Avensis Gloom of Anturan - - - The stream of Time ... The Minister's Cordial Corydon, an Elegy to Mary Elegy, on an infant daughter - - Song : by Dr. Franklin Lucinda, Adieu ! - . - Elegy, on the death of Mrs. Chapman Ode on the death of Dr. Franklin The Mourning Orphan ... liines, in memory of Major Peters Song, by Dr. Drake - - - Address from Mrs. Morton to Mr. Stuart Mary Le More ^UoDay^^ ,- Staozas off ^ij-Jtifant Stanzas Jby4 Is^y, just before ber death Whiskey - . .. Farewell to my home The Solitaire - - - . Things I do not know and have not known The Female Auctioneer Contentment - - , The Humble Wish Leander and Heroine Religion - . . . Corydon and Caroline Verses to Lady M. W. Montague Sonnet to the Liley Air - - - - Song - - - . Serenade - - - - Memory - . . . INDEX. 1 43 Lovers, When - -• - - 80 New England - - - - 81 My Heart was a Mirror - - - 82 Love 83 The Pirate Lover - • - - 84 The Indian Philosopher - " - 85 Few Happy Matches - - - 87" Against Tears - . - - - - 89 The Complaint ^ - - - 90 Friendship ----- 91 Death of Tecumseh - - - - 92 Moore's Farewell to his Harp - - 93 The Cockney ----- 94 To M n 95 Last Lines of Cowper - - - 96 Oh the Evils of a Mischievous Tongue - 96 A New Year's Wish - - - - 9r The Voyage of Love and Time - 97 Ballad on Women - - - - 9g Brandy - - - - - lOO Little thing* are best - - - IQI Dexterous Punning - - 102 The old Bachelor - - - - 102 Melancholy - 103 Bovver of Prayer ... - IO4 Hope - - ^ - - , ..^- 104 Dove-Eyed Modesty - . - - 106 Resentment _ . - - - IO7 Freedom's Standard - - ^ - 108 Farewell to my Youth ... IQ9 The Connecticut - . -^ HO Ode to Contentment - - - 110 Aipnzo's Farewell - - - - 111 Beth Gelert - - - - 112 When the Last Tear - - - 115 Is Life a Dreain-^ - - - - 116 The Flower of "Luve - - - 117 O tell me not that Wine will soothe - - 118 The Mbnlhly Rose - - - - 119 144 tN©EX. Mental Beauty - - • - - 119 Villaere Greatness - - - - jgO The Madagascar Song - - - 121 AWi<=h - - - - - 122 The Wish Enjoyed - - - - 123 The Little Girl with Bosom Bare - - 124 The Lady's Man - - - - 125 Highland Mary - - - - 126 I'd Rather be ExcusM - - - 127 The Ray that Beams Forever - - - 128 The Prison - - - - 128 I saw from the Beach .... 129 The Treble Voice - - - ' ^2^ Song, from Moore - - - - iSl On an Infant Child - - - - 132 The Harvest Rose • - - - 133 Siste Viator 134 Lines on seeing Capt. Partridge's Cadets - 136 My Brother - - - - , - 138 %. * S