Class 
 Book 
 
 ; CD 
 
 1739 
 
 
 
/ 
 
 A COLLECTION 
 
 OF 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS 
 
 POEMS, 
 
 MORAL, RELIGIOUS, SENTIMENTAL, 
 AND AMUSING. 
 
 BY H. S. GIBSON. 
 
 "The study of Poetry has been to me its own exceeding great rewai'd ; 
 it has soothed my afflictions; it has multiplied and refined my enjoyments; 
 it has given me (or at least strengthened in me) the habit to discover the 
 good and the beautiful in all that meets and surrounds me." 
 
 £lQleridge. 
 
 PHILADELPHIA: 
 J. CRISSY— 4 MINOR STREET 
 
 1834. 
 

 Entered according to act of congress, in the year 1834, 
 by H. S. Gibson, in the clerk's office of the district court for 
 the Eastern District of Pennsylvania. 
 
 /fA^^ 
 
 Printed by J. Crissy & G. Goodman— 4, Minor street. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 Thk Author makes his most respectful bow, and expresses 
 the sincere obligation he is under to those who have support- 
 ed him in his exertions to publish the work to which they have 
 so kindly subscribed. 
 
 As he personally solicited their patronage, they are, gene- 
 rally, aware of the primary object which he had in view; and, 
 although a pecuniary reward (after satisfying the printer's 
 demands, &c. which have made sad havock with his sub- 
 scription list) would have been more gratifying the more it 
 had been increased ; yet he has every reason to be grateful 
 and contented with the spoil that has fallen to his lot, since 
 he remembers with pleasure, that those who have supported 
 him are in company with the most honoured, enlightened 
 and refined, that adorn the extensive circle of society in 
 which they move. 
 
 His miscellany presents Variety in her mantle "of 
 many colours :" Such as it is, he has a surplus balance on 
 hand — enough to form a similar volume, exclusive of a pet 
 production comprising about one hundred pages, entitled the 
 " Vision of War." Alas ! the expenses of publication, of 
 
IV PREFACE. 
 
 that and the other PoemSj if indiscreetly hazarded, would 
 destroy the jieace of mind of a better Poet in worse circum- 
 stances ; and the Author dare not incur them to gratify his 
 vanity instead of his purse, when the chance is so much in 
 favour of his reaping chagrin instead of remuneration. 
 
 To conclude: in an erect, if not graceful, position — with his 
 features somewhat flushed by the embarrassment of his feel- 
 ings — his right hand upon his heart, he imagines that he 
 hears Echo's spirit-voice mimick the music-breathing lips of 
 either one of the fair " Invincibles," stationed in this city, as 
 they pronounce in the sweetest tone imaginable, the order of 
 stern command in the following musical words — 
 " March — march — away" 
 '' To hear is to obey." 
 
 Exit THE AUTHORo 
 Philadelphia, January, 1834. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 HOW TO GET THROUGH. 
 
 This Impromptu was left upon the desk of a friend who allowed the 
 author the occasional use of his office, for the purpose of preparing his 
 volume for publication. 
 
 A Poet (poor fellow ! that is nothing strange) — 
 
 Has tried through Fortune's path to " get along :" 
 His new ideas forever dwell on change — 
 
 Will that pass current for an idle song 1 
 The price of modern poetry is cheap — 
 
 Wit, like good wine, is better old than new ; 
 Shall I, who by my wits must Uve, yet weep*? 
 
 No — diamond like, I'll cut my bright way through ;* 
 Aye, through the world in which I'll cut a dash, 
 And run the gauntlet tho' the Critics lash: 
 Yet if my diamond wit should prove but paste, 
 When through the better, so I'm off in haste. 
 
 * This line is borrowed from Moore, I believe ; from memory at any 
 rate. 
 
 2* 
 
• MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 APOLOGY 
 
 FOR REFUSING TO ALLOW A LADY THE PERUSAL OF A PRI- 
 VATE LETTER. 
 
 Place thou before the noon-day sun 
 
 A burning glass, and let his rays 
 Through its bright centre's surface run, 
 
 And thus set tinder in a blaze. 
 But 1 this letter dare not trust, 
 
 Without the glass before thy eyes ; 
 Lest ere I read they burn it first, 
 
 And with the ^a/?!C the secret dies. 
 If ashes then, then where would be 
 
 My hopes and fears, a lover's claims'? 
 I know should this thy bright eyes see, 
 
 That / should /eeZ them all in flames. 
 
 THE FESTIVAL OF DEATH. 
 
 A GRAVE YARD SCENE. 
 
 The moon was full and sickly pale, 
 
 And the earth was dimly lighted ; 
 My heart and strength began to fail, 
 
 Among the graves benighted. 
 There lost, I leaned upon a tomb — 
 
 An earthquake voice had rumbled ; 
 Exhausted, fainting midst the gloom 
 
 Surrounding me, I stumbled 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 There long I lay and there I saw 
 
 A form that past me glided, 
 A hundred others passed or more, 
 
 Ere I my fears derided. 
 Then looking, I beheld them not, 
 
 They vanished like my breath there ; 
 And soon I rose to leave the spot, 
 
 For all was still as death there. 
 
 Cold drops of sweat fi-ll from my brow — 
 
 With fears I tried to prattle ; 
 But ah ! I recollect me now, 
 
 Ah, how my bones did rattle : 
 I moved — so did the cypress trees 
 
 The tombs that over shaded, 
 And willows bending to the breeze. 
 
 With heavy dews o'erladed. 
 
 But this is folly ; fool^ said I, 
 
 Light headed, heavy hearted ; 
 A hundred echoes did reply — 
 
 At every one I started. 
 " Fool," echo'd from each hollow grave, 
 
 " Fool," from the tombs around me ; 
 But all my wisdom could not save 
 
 Me from the spell that bound me. 
 
 I sank upon a smooth flat stono. 
 
 The " Death-watch" tick'd, dread token ; 
 Imprisoned Hope cried with a groan, 
 
 Oh, be these fetters broken ! 
 
MISCELLANEOUS P0EM3. 
 
 Then where my trembling body lay, 
 
 Those spirits stood before me ; 
 Wrapp'd in their winding sheets were they, 
 
 Yet spake not if they saw me. 
 
 And fearful limbs their robes concealed, 
 
 Pale moon beams on them glancing ; 
 Yet oft the many folds revealed 
 
 Their forms as they were dancing. 
 And thrice three times the ring went round, 
 
 As though no graves obstructed 
 The spectre circle, o'er the ground 
 
 That moved uninterrupted. 
 
 They vanished like a dreamy thought — 
 
 A dimness then came o'er me ; 
 I saw not e'en the tombs, and nought 
 
 Could 1 discern before me. 
 Light visited my eyes again. 
 
 Death's banquet scene succeeded, 
 And they were seated near me then, 
 
 Whose festival I heeded. 
 
 Upon the smooth flat stones were laid 
 
 The skeletons unbroken, 
 Of fish and fowl and beast, displayed 
 
 Where not a word was spoken ; 
 They were untouched by bony hands 
 
 That rattled 'mong the glasses : 
 (Not those through which time's sifted sands 
 
 Runs softly as it passes) — 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 I mean those bright transparent cups 
 
 Which mortals use, I'm thinking, 
 "When not e'en midnight interrupts 
 
 Their revels, when they're drinking : 
 Who sport with life at every breath 
 
 They draw, and pledge each other, 
 When at the festival of Death, 
 
 Remembered by some brother. 
 
 Those cups were fill'd with very flame, 
 
 Blue fire and red, and mingled — 
 Blood colour, tints without a name; 
 
 But how those glasses jingled! 
 I saw the Bacchanalians rise, 
 
 Their skulls, those fires illumed there ; 
 Red flaming balls rolled where their eyes 
 
 Once " blood shot," had consumed there. 
 
 A form — a fiery spirit — red — 
 
 All flame — (oh, for to-morrow, 
 I groaned) yet moveless on my bed 
 
 I saw the sight of horror: 
 Aye, then the sports of Death I saw. 
 
 The skeleton's displaying, 
 And antic tricks — bones rattled more — 
 
 The Devil there icas playing. 
 
 The portals open'd of each tomb; 
 
 In all directions flying. 
 Those spirits went to learn the doom. 
 
 Of Drunkards that were dying. 
 
10 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 To greet with ghostly welcome those, 
 To-morrow that would meet them ; 
 
 For here since " spirits" were their foes, 
 There, spirit friends may greet them. 
 
 MEDITATION IN SOLITUDE. 
 
 My bosom heaves ; so swells the mighty sea, 
 
 Where storms now struggle 'ncath its moonUt breast ; 
 Gluick throbs the heart whose spirit would be free, 
 
 Yet hugs its fetters in its cell of rest : 
 By moonlight beam the prison walls may be 
 
 Illum'd without, but darkness ! from thy crest, 
 Deep shadows fall where mantled sorrow seems. 
 
 An image chain'd down in a world of dreams. 
 
 Oh, heavy weight of wo that sinks so deep 
 Within the heart, the spirit feels the pain ; 
 
 Why when hope slumbers in her death-like sleep, 
 Does not some angel rouse her up again 1 
 
 What is the harvest which the soul would reap, 
 But bliss, whose seeds so oft are sown in vain ! 
 
 Yet why 1 (our follies on ourselves recoil — ) 
 
 Alas ! we sow them on a barren soil. 
 
 Can earth produce the fruit of Paradise? 
 
 Ah no ! nor Heaven the sordid joys of sense ; 
 Can the gross body to ethereal skies 
 
 Ascend, and bow before omnipotence 1 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 11 
 
 Oh no, for when immortal spirits rise, 
 
 They do not bear their heavy burdens hence: 
 Pure essence to its fountain head's consigned, 
 When earth to earth and dust to dust's resigned. 
 
 What is the world! Temptation's lurking place, 
 Where sin gives birth to wo, and hope to fear; 
 
 Where man exists till life and death embrace, 
 With one last pang to part forever here: 
 
 Th' immortal soul then seeks a dwelling place 
 Within the spirit's reach, in some high sphere — 
 
 Higher and brighter than this earth we tread, 
 
 Which but retains the relicts of the dead. 
 
 Pride, pomp and splendour, heraldry, and arms 
 That gUtter in the glare of war's red blaze. 
 
 What is the lustre of their gilded charms, 
 Which lures the world when dazzled by the rays 
 
 Of glory's sunbeams; — when the loud alarms 
 Recall the dying groans of other days ! 
 
 Oh History ! upon thy scroll appears 
 
 The blood-stained records of a thousand years. 
 
 Proud Fashion, throw thy purple robes aside 
 But for awhile, and leave thy banquet halls; 
 
 E'en masque thyself for fear the world would chide; 
 And haste, for now the voice of anguish calls : 
 
 Fair Virtue 's in distress ; and at her side, 
 
 The poor, beloved, the wretched helpless falls — 
 
 Alas I too late comes charitable pride. 
 
 Except to know how hunger's victim died. 
 
12 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Almighty Power ! that fills yon ample skies 
 With wisdom, love, and glory all thy own ! 
 
 A universe of worlds beneath thee Ues, 
 And boundless space surrounds thee on thy throne ! 
 
 Thou knowest all things, and what thoughts arise 
 From hearts that throb in silence and alone. 
 
 " Whatever is, is right" if understood ; 
 
 We know but this, that thou art great and good. 
 
 THE SLEEPERS DREAM, 
 
 UNDER THE INFLUENCE OF "MANIA A POTU," 
 
 The young vien shall see visions, and the old men shall 
 dream dreams." 
 
 I saw a strange unearthly spot, or vale. 
 
 And seven high mountains with their rocky crests 
 Surrounded it : — my spirit's strength doth fail — 
 
 The dreamy horror yet upon me rests. 
 No sun, no moon, no stars shed forth their light 
 Of Heavenly lustre o'er that doomsday land; 
 A dark day dawned, or visible was night — 
 
 The air grew thick, as 'twere, with burning sand : 
 I heard strange sounds like fetters when they shackle — 
 Like burning embers when the fire brands crackle ; 
 And cursings — groans — 
 And horrid moans : 
 Red lightnings flashed 
 And thunders crashed, 
 And swords, spears, shields, against each other clashed. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS WORKS. 13 
 
 Then sprang a column up of red hot flame, 
 E'en from the centre of the desert place : 
 Had iEtna's bosom, bursting 'neath the same, 
 
 Spread conllagiation round each mountain's base, 
 "Twerc nought contrasted with the sight I saw, 
 
 Of that vast amphitheatre of fire ! 
 I thought from hell's hot furnace it burst o'er 
 
 Each mountain's summit, to the clouds and higher : 
 Aye, nature doomed 
 To be consumed : 
 And in my dreams 
 Of fiery streams, 
 1 saw a nightmare hag and heard her screams. 
 
 Then, darkness like the midnight of the tomb, 
 
 Or chaos, brooding in the depths of space, 
 Whence Satan sprung to hear his final doom. 
 
 Grew ten fold deeper round that desert place ; 
 Save in the burning centre of the same, 
 
 A fire globe dwindled to a starry spark ; 
 It soon spread forth a white and blueish flame, 
 That rose and fell and flickered in the dark ; 
 (Like taper light, 
 Now dim, now bright ; 
 Where chambered death 
 Feels not the breath 
 Of Zephyr's wing) then burst upon my sight. 
 
 That flame increased — more vivid still it grew. 
 
 Assumed a shape half demon, half divine : 
 
 It looked like burning steel of nameless hue; 
 
 'Twas first, man's form, then monster Sin, 'twas thine. 
 3 
 
14 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Oh, then red horrors in my bosom burned, 
 
 And nightmare demons gave one general yell ; 
 Upon my bed of flames at last I turned, 
 'Woke by the monster from his native hell ; 
 
 To fright my soul 
 
 With dread control. 
 Came Virtue at the phantom's side ; 
 
 With out-spread arms, 
 
 All hail her charms, 
 Who weeps o'er many a drunkard's weeping bride. 
 
 PARTING WORDS. 
 
 The dimpled smiles which once o'erspread 
 
 Thy features, and the blush 
 Of beauty's bloom from thee hath fled, 
 
 And left the hectic flush : 
 And now, the mournful smile I see 
 
 That mingles with that hue. 
 Hath wrought no other change in me, 
 
 Save weeping over you. 
 
 With pain 1 could endure to hear 
 
 Thy faint voice grow more weak, 
 Until thy pale lips in my ear 
 
 Had lost the strength to speak: 
 If hope sustained me, I for years 
 
 Could gaze on thee as now ; 
 In silent grief conceal my tears, 
 
 And bathe thy burning brow. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 1§ 
 
 Perhaps 1 could submit to more 
 
 Of anguish than I've known, 
 With prayers kind heaven would restore 
 
 Those blessings which have flown — 
 Love's tenderness without its tears, 
 
 That brighter days may see 
 Hope's rosy smile, without the fears 
 
 So soon of losing thee. 
 
 But never — never could I part 
 
 Forever from thee here ; 
 'Twould break this almost broken heart, 
 
 That holds thee now so dear. 
 Though thy pure spirit went to rest, 
 
 In brighter spheres to dwell — 
 Though knowing thou wouldst there be blessed, 
 
 How can I say " Farewell." 
 
 I may, but Oh ! I could not be 
 
 Long severed from thee then; 
 Like two united streams should we 
 
 Soon mingle there again. 
 If from this world thou must depart — 
 
 From earth when thou hast flown, 
 1 know — 1 know 'twill break the heart, 
 
 That throbs for thee alone. 
 
16 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 IMPROMPTU. 
 
 Oh ! Mrs. R***ll of the royal race, 
 Of whom my modest muse hath never sung ; 
 
 Alas! I've never seen thy matchless face, 
 And never heard the music of thy tongue. 
 
 Burn not thy " Black Book" yet, 'twill fee the law, 
 Make judges {bar the court) the jury smile. 
 
 And lawyers fight as they have fought before ; 
 For gossip, Jincfun for the world awhile. 
 
 Man flics from thee — the ladies hide their faces, 
 And thine ! the beaux all wonder how that looks ! 
 
 And without G the graces would run races, 
 To 'scape thy royal favour and thy Black-Books. 
 Jul 1/30, 1829. 
 
 THE MISTAKE 
 
 OF A NEAR-SIGHTED " EXauISITE." 
 
 Hal. Look ! Tom, oh ! look at that angelic form 
 That stands before us. Lo ! every movement. 
 Every careless motion that she makes, 
 Some soft and fascinating grace displays 
 That quite bewitches me. But oh! that veil 
 Conceals a face more beautiful and bright : 
 Perhaps a pair of soft blue beaming eyes, 
 Which form the contrast to her ruby lips, 
 Are lurking there ! 
 And there, methinks, her maiden dreams of love 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Create a blush which o'er her features spread, 
 And mingles with her dimples and her smiles. 
 
 Tom. You speak of only her who wears the veil ! 
 
 Haf.. Of /jfr alone. How gracefully she lifts 
 Her snow-white arm ; and now olf goes 
 Her delicate kid glove. I'm tempted now 
 To grasp that hand, and press it to my lips ! 
 Its whiteness shames that alabaster neck 
 On which it leans: had / that hand— 
 
 Tom. Hush — that's her daughter's neck ; 
 The mother's quite deformed, and very lame. 
 
 Hal. Pshaw, hang her daughter's neck. 
 
 Tom. Thou art a gallant executioner ! 
 
 THE THREAT REVENGED 
 
 1 can not tell the reason why, 
 
 When twining round thy brow the wreath, 
 I fluttered without wings to fly, 
 
 And trembled like an aspen leaf 
 What is there dreadful in thy charms, 
 
 Thou little Sorceress ! explain, 
 Why, when I'd clasp thee in my arms. 
 
 I then would fly thee, yet in vain ! 
 
 As the sweet songs of summer birds 
 
 1 love to hear, so do I thine ; 
 There's no confusion in the words 
 
 Thou speakest me, that answers inine ; 
 3* 
 
 r 
 
18 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 My half averted eyes are fixed 
 
 In stolen glances on thy own, 
 And then are strange emotions mixed 
 
 Within my heart, love's burning throne. 
 
 Why, when I tremble 'neath their light, 
 
 And thy bright orbs illume my heart, 
 Dost thou not quickly quit my sight, 
 
 Or set me free and say, depart. 
 But nay — thy every song that 's sung, 
 
 Thy winning words beguile the hours, 
 And beauty's witchery is Hung 
 
 From lips of soul-enchanting powers. 
 
 Thy ringlets must have lovers' sighs, 
 
 To sport with them upon thy brow ; 
 Thy heart, the heart's pure sacrifice 
 
 Of these impassioned fcehngs now ;* 
 Thy smiles the sacrifice of tears, 
 
 Thus oflered on Hope's shrine by me ; 
 And thou thy victim still, who fears 
 
 He never can escape from Ihco. 
 
 But fare thee well— Oh ! break the chains 
 
 Thy words have riveted so strong ; 
 I'll break thy harp, whose dulcet strains 
 
 Have mingled with thy breathing song. 
 The threat's revenged — away she flies 
 
 From me, and from her I depart : 
 * She smiling from her scornful eyes— 
 
 I bleeding through a broken heart. 
 
 • The little necromancer demanded an offering from the muse. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 19 
 
 TO MR. H****, AT ST. THOMAS. 
 
 THE WEST INDIA INVALID TO THE " SEA BREEZE."* 
 
 How beautifully bright ! how calm and still 
 
 Is heaven's own mirror that reflects the skies ! 
 The clear blue ocean but obeys His will, 
 
 That sleeps beneath yon lofty hills which rise 
 Above the 5'ct unfathomed depths below, 
 
 Where fabled mermaid with the sea nymph dwells ; 
 Where— all that fancy sees is all we know— 
 
 The storms are fettered in their prison cells. 
 'Till nature's God disturbs the mighty deep, 
 Oh ! who shall rouse the ocean from his sleep ! 
 
 The sultry noonday 's past; sweet eve returns ; 
 
 The sun which rose now sinks, but not to rest ; 
 In one eternal sphere his glory burns. 
 
 Now tints the east, and now adorns the west. 
 But lo ! I view from my balcony height, 
 
 The footsteps of the breeze u[)on the sea ; 
 The light-winged zephyrs on its bosom bright, 
 
 Fly o'er their ripple waves to welcome me. 
 They fan the ocean now, and now the breeze 
 Kisses the grove and bows the graceful trees. 
 
 Soft twilight 's here — the fever leaves my brain — 
 
 Half-angel woman hovers near my bed ; 
 Heaven breathes its blessings o'er us not in vain, 
 
 Since heaven and hope support the drooping head. 
 
 • Those who have resided in a tropical cUmate, know how to appreciate 
 the land and " sea breeze." 
 
20, MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 And through my lattice, round which summer wreathes 
 Her flow'rcts rich and gay, — profusion fair ! 
 
 The ocean zephyr o'er me gently breathes 
 Refreshing fragrance of the balmy air. 
 
 Eternal summer here in beauty reigns ; 
 
 Makes glad the mountains as it cheers the plains. 
 
 Oh ! who was ever in a foreign clime, 
 
 From native land and kindred friends away, 
 That numbered not the passing hours of time. 
 
 And yet could look upon the broad blue bay 
 That mocks his hopes — and watch the distant sail 
 
 And see it still recede ; and yet not sigh — 
 When love's pure tokens wafted by the gale, 
 
 Reached not the hand when to the heart so nigh ! 
 When the sea breeze that flies across the main, 
 Revives the spirits, soothes the body's pain ! 
 
 'Tis that which brings intelligence from home, 
 
 (A thousand hopes and fears are on its wings) 
 Conveys a sympathy to those that roam, 
 
 From the dear absent and beloved, and brings 
 Home to the bosom all its bliss or pain, 
 
 Home to the heart all that it holds most dear ; 
 And the "land breezes" soon bear back again, 
 
 Returning tokens, or a smile or tear. 
 The sea is treacherous — th' inconstant wind 
 Is fickle — fickle as a weak man's mind. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 21 
 
 THE CONaUEROR CONaUERED, 
 
 " AFTER THE BATTLE." 
 
 Now onward ! rapid be thy speed 1 
 
 Swift as the eagle's flight 
 Bear me along, my gallant steed, 
 
 To scenes of new delight. 
 1 seek not now the battle field, 
 
 To hear war's loud alarms — 
 For conquest now, but conquered, yield 
 
 To beauty's brightest charms. 
 
 Start not — the welkin only rings 
 
 And echoes whilst 1 say, 
 " Fly ! fly!" for love hath lent his wings 
 
 To thee, but to obey. 
 No brazen helmet now I wear, 
 
 No sword hangs at my side — 
 Nor shield — for thou dost only bear 
 
 The bridegroom to the bride, 
 
 The moon is looking o'er yon hill ; 
 
 My gallant charger, fly ! 
 Like thee my hopes arc rising still, 
 
 That were not born to die. 
 I see yon village steeples now 
 
 Are tipt with moon-light beams — 
 Feel summer's breath upon my brow — 
 
 Love's spirit in my dreams. 
 
•2*2 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Stay, stay, impatient steed — in vain 
 
 Shall T attempt to jprove 
 That love has strength to curb thy rein, 
 
 Though I'm subdued by love ! 
 Nay, start not thus ! thou dost not see 
 
 A spirit from the skies ; 
 Though she hath fetters there for me. 
 
 Here — here thy freedom lies, 
 
 " Had heaven but tongues to sing as well 
 
 As starry eyes to see," 
 Yon roving orbs that o'er us dwell, 
 
 Would breathe in minstrelsey, 
 That I, who have for freedom fought, 
 
 Surviving war's alarms, 
 By fate urged on, by Hymen caught, 
 
 Have fallen in beauty's arms. 
 Antwerp, July, 1826. 
 
 THE DREAM. 
 Soft strains best suit the twilight hour- 
 Let Music's spirit-voice be heard ; 
 Let Beauty's Ups in this lone bower 
 Breathe softly, and not speak a word. 
 Love is the theme : 
 My song 's the dream 
 Of fond hopes born so soon to die; 
 For his gave birth 
 To her's on earth, 
 Whose soaring fancy seeks the sky. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS, 23 
 
 Her harp hangs o'er enchanted ground, 
 
 And Summer's breath plays with the strings, 
 And twiUght spirits hover round, 
 To hear the song some seraph sings. 
 
 The sounds depart — 
 
 Thus from the heart, 
 Love hke a weeping angel fled: 
 
 To star-lit skies 
 
 Her thoughts arise — 
 She calls his spirit from the dead. 
 
 Unconscious lips their secrets tell ; 
 Imprisoned feelings in her breast 
 Yet struggle there :— I know too well. 
 The phantom form that haunts her rest. 
 If from above 
 Departed love 
 Descends to sleeping Beauty's bower. 
 It blesses those 
 When they repose 
 In such a place, at such an hour. 
 
 ON THE DEATH OF COMMODORE BAIN- 
 BRIDGE. 
 
 The drums were muffled, and reversed the arms, 
 And, lowered on its staft', the banner sheet 
 
 Was bound with mourning's badge— war's loud alarms 
 Were hushed, and lightly trod the soldier's feet 
 
24 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS, 
 
 The listless earth, who followed to the grave 
 Our country's champion — the navy's pride : 
 
 Thus fall the gallant, and thus sink the brave 
 In glory's lap at last, like him who died. 
 
 Still roar the surges of the mighty sea, 
 
 And still the tempest rages on the deep ; 
 But Ocean's voice can ne'er awaken thee. 
 
 Nor call thee back to life for whom we weep. 
 Son of the sea, and hero of the waves, 
 
 Where dwells thy spirit since it left the world ! 
 With freedom ! freedom ! not among the graves, 
 
 But where salvation's banners are unfurled. 
 
 The power receives it back which gave it birth, 
 
 That Liberty might feel its influence here ; 
 Here, where the dauntless heroes of the earth 
 
 Brave death, and danger in its stormy sphere ; — 
 Who Uve for all mankind as champions live, 
 
 That meet in peril's hour their country's foes ; 
 And die as thou hast died — and fame doth give 
 
 A nation's tears to hallow thy repose. 
 
 Sleep, thou whose battle field was ocean's breast. 
 
 Whose vast dominions stretch from pole to pole ; 
 Immortal honour hovers round thy rest — 
 
 Sleep ! till the ocean shall no longer roll 
 Its waves from sea to sea, from shore to shore ; 
 
 And slumber till thy spirit shall arise, 
 Where blissful peace remains forevcrmore. 
 
 And war's loud thunders can not shake the skies. 
 Thy sword sought not its sheath till we were free, 
 
 Till thou thy country's tears proved worthy thee. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 25 
 
 THE TRI-COLOURED FLAG. 
 
 " Down with the people's rights !" was heard the cry — 
 
 The tyrant Monarque trembled on his throne: 
 France shall be free, was Freedom's stern reply, 
 
 And heaven-born Liberty shall reign alone. 
 The monarque summoned to the battle fray 
 
 His tools of regal power — war's loud alarms 
 Spread through the city; and in dread array, 
 
 Paris and France, and freedom were in arms ! 
 
 " Down with the royal standard ! and be free ! 
 
 Down with the Bourbon, who would make us slaves ! 
 Lift high the banner of our liberty !' 
 
 The people shouted — and within their graves, 
 " Gashed uith dishonest icounds,^' inglorious lay 
 
 The brave misguided thousands who were slain : 
 That country's proud oppressors rue the day — 
 
 The waste of blood which blots their monarque's reign. 
 
 Spirit of Liberty ! throughout the world, 
 
 Stir up the people! in thy strength advance ; 
 Lo ! the tri-coloured banner is unfurled, 
 
 Where late a tyrant ruled the realms of France. 
 The Bourbon might have won the meed of fame — 
 
 Been great, if he had been but wise and just ; 
 But Charles of France ! to thy immortal shame. 
 
 Thou art degraded, humbled to the dust. 
 
 4 
 
26 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Fair freedom's honoured champion now sways 
 
 A gallant people's minds — asserts their rights 
 Whatever freedom dictates, he obeys ; 
 
 And for mankind, and for his country, fights. 
 Upon his brow is placed no coronet, 
 
 Nor doth he grasp a sceptre in his hand ; 
 It is not " Charles the King," but Lafayette ! 
 
 And his and kindred spirits rule the land. 
 
 Sept. 9, 1830. 
 
 ON THE DEATH OF A YOUNG LADY. 
 
 Alas ! and what avails it now, 
 
 That beauty's beaming eyes so bright, 
 Once sparkled 'neath her polished brow, 
 
 Two rival orbs of living light : 
 They shine no more since ghastly death 
 
 Approached the couch where beauty lay ; 
 He dimmed their lustre with his breath, 
 
 And turned those orbs of light to clay. 
 
 And what avails it that the rose 
 
 Once bloomed upon her cheek so fair ] 
 The grave this secret will disclose. 
 
 The high-fed worm now riots there 
 1 wept to see that living bloom, 
 
 Fade Uke my fondest hopes away ; 
 But in the cold, damp, silent tomb, 
 
 Oh ! who durst look upon decay ! 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 27 
 
 Ah ! what avails it that she siing 
 
 And charmed me with her syren voice? 
 The grave is silent — she is dumb — 
 
 The heart no longer can rejoice : 
 Her coral lips have lost their hue — 
 
 Her eye its lustre — and her hair 
 Its auburn ringlets, for the dew 
 
 Lies heavy on those relicts there. 
 
 That death, while yet in beauty's bloom, 
 
 Would lay his icy hand on thee. 
 That summer flowers would o'er thy tomb 
 
 Be scattered thus, so soon by me : 
 That thou art numbered with the dead, 
 
 A wreck of beauty mouldering there, 
 Ere eighteen summer suns have shed 
 
 Their Ught on one so bright and fair! 
 
 'Tis true, nor can I veil the truth, 
 
 Though sad reaUty but seems 
 A mournful vision : — When her youth 
 
 And loveliness come o'er my dreams ; 
 A sudden joy thrills through my heart. 
 
 Then deep-felt anguish gives it pain ; 
 I thus from dreams of pleasure start, 
 
 And 'waken but to weep again. 
 
 But what avail my tears which flow — 
 My bursting heart, why heave the sigh ; 
 
 Oh ! why not cease to weep, to know 
 Her spirit lives and ne'er can die ! 
 
28 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 When fragile beauty's form to earth 
 Descends, the spirit soars on high ; 
 
 Her death was but a second birth, 
 The grave, her passage to the sky. 
 
 " PASSING AWAY 
 
 IS WRITTEN ON THE WORLD," AND ALL THE WORLD CON- 
 TAINS. 
 
 There's written on the rose's leaf 
 
 Its destiny — an early doom : 
 An epitaph that tells how brief — 
 
 How short-lived here is beauty's bloom. 
 The crimson tint is scarcely spread 
 
 Upon the fragile emblem here, 
 When lo ! its drooping leaves are dead : 
 
 Thus all things lovely — all things dear 
 Must pass away. 
 
 'Tis whispered by the summer breeze 
 
 That passes by, tny balmy breathy 
 That sports among the waving trees, 
 
 Will blast them like the chill of death : 
 The lofty oak whose branches yield 
 
 The laurel for the warrior's brow, 
 Like him, when conquered on the field, 
 
 Shall share his fate, to earth must bow, 
 And pass away. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 'Tis written that the wheels of time 
 
 Shall cease their revolutions here ; 
 The waning moon shall cease to shine, 
 
 The sun shall end his bright career : 
 The heavenly host of starry skies, 
 
 And all things from this lower world, 
 That can be viewed by mortal eyes. 
 
 Shall be dissolved — to chaos hurled — 
 And pass away. 
 
 When yon bright orbs, and when this ball 
 
 Terrestrial dissolved shall be, 
 And into wreck and ruin all 
 
 The universe, confused shall flee — 
 Then oh ! what mind can comprehend 
 
 The hidden mystery, my soul ! 
 Eternity shall have no end — 
 
 And everlasting years shall roll — 
 Not pass away I 
 
 Since then, thus saith the Book of Fate, 
 
 That all things earthly shall decay. 
 How frail must be this mortal state, 
 
 Since earth itself must />as9 away ! 
 But man ! 'tis written on thy heart. 
 
 By him whose image thou dost bear. 
 With earth thy body may depart — 
 
 Thy spirit shall not perish there, 
 Nor pass away. 
 4* 
 
 2^ 
 
30 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 THE SEASONS OF LIFE. 
 
 The tender buds of youth have blown, 
 
 The days of childhood past ; 
 Too soon those blushing sweets have flown, 
 
 That were too dear to last. 
 
 Ah, youth— thy sunny days, so bright, 
 
 So transient and so fair ; 
 Have vanished hke a phantom light. 
 
 Or meteor of the air. 
 
 Childhood's the twilight of the morn 
 Of life — and youth's the spring : 
 
 Alas, at early manhood's dawn. 
 Still hope is on the wing. 
 
 This life is like a fleeting year — 
 
 Its seasons as they roll, 
 Proclaim how frail are all things here, 
 
 Save man's immortal soul : 
 
 Which soars at last and wings her flight 
 
 To realms above the skies ; 
 To hail celestid love and light. 
 
 Which glows and never dies. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 31 
 
 POETICAL DILEMMA. 
 
 I hardly know of what to sing ; 
 
 I'm really in a sad quandary ! 
 I'm out of tune — my heart will ring, 
 
 Or chime — I'm neither sad nor merry. 
 
 Oh ! solitude and silent cells, 
 
 Where meditation fondly lingers ; 
 Where some incendiary dwells, 
 
 And others that have burnt their fingers. 
 
 I envy ye whose thoughts are fixed 
 
 On something, one thing or another ; 
 For mine are now so strongly mixed, 
 
 I wonder how they chime together. 
 
 A doubt is stamped upon my brow ; 
 
 My heart, oh ! beauty's smile could melt it ; 
 And woman's tears as I feel now. 
 
 Would make me laugh, nor could I help it 
 
 What planet shone upon my birth, 
 
 My future fickle heart revealing ! 
 When all is sunshine there, o'er mirth 
 
 These twilight shades of grief are steaUng. 
 
 But melting hearts recall to mind, 
 Sophia's eyes — and — burning glasses ; 
 
 Those by-gone days when she was kiiid, 
 And rural scenes — and — village lasses. 
 
3'i MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Now, where is she and where are they 7 
 Her cottage which I sought dehght in 1 
 
 Ah ! though that has not moved away, 
 Its pretty inmate has — to Brighton. 
 
 Those sunny days of youth once shed 
 Their hght across my path of life ; 
 
 Now, Mary and my hopes are dead, 
 " Soph's" married— " Rose" is Sulky's wife. 
 
 If friendship's nothing but a name, 
 And love is but an empty bubble, 
 
 My Imrsting heart is not the same, 
 Although 'tis full of empty trouble. 
 
 Thus, sadness now and grief contend 
 Like heat and cold — I've got the ague ; 
 
 So Byron had, and to his friend 
 
 Said, " mortals ! thus the gods will plague you." 
 
 Well, I'll dispense with mirth to-day, 
 And ride my hobby horse of sorrow : 
 
 Oh no ! vice versa, I'll be gay, 
 And wear a longer face to-morrow. 
 
 TO "ROMEO." 
 
 We all have ruling pas.sions, thine 
 Hath strength to master all the rest ; 
 
 And love ! that favourite theme divine. 
 Must make thee most supremely blest ! 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 33 
 
 Thou hast a host of tender hearts, 
 
 And such deep mines of pity sprung, 
 Say, hast thou hurled as many darts 
 
 At random— as the songs you've sung 1 
 
 If Adelaide was half as fair — 
 
 Or half as faithful— half as true, 
 As what thy muse describes — I swear 
 
 She'll never meet again with you ! 
 
 Perfection dwells not in this sphere. 
 But might, perhaps, in woman's mind, 
 
 If man were half as constant here, 
 As gentle, virtuous and kind. 
 
 ON VIEWING AN UNTAMED IMPRISONED 
 EAGLE. 
 
 Oh, tyrant man ! where is thy blush of shame ! 
 And where those nobler feelings of thy soul, 
 That they are not aroused, and burst not forth 
 With indignation, thus to see in chains, 
 Imprisoned in a mean and narrow cage, 
 This emblem of thy boasted hbcrty ! 
 
 Proud " Bird of Jove," who scorned to set thy foot 
 Upon the earth, because its bounds were fixed. 
 And even freedom has her limits here — 
 Not so — for thou wert used to seek thy rest. 
 Thy nest to build upon the loftiest tree, 
 
34 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Which grew upon some "heaven kissing hill" 
 Where man and slavery had never dwelt. 
 
 I'll not insult thy fallen majesty ! 
 The fire in thy eye is still unquenched, 
 The lofty spirit of thy nature too, 
 Is undiminished ; and tis still the same 
 As when it soared above the thunder clouds, 
 And lost the sight of sublunary things. 
 
 There is a noble instinct in thy heart, 
 (That he, the keeper of the prison-house, 
 When self-applied, calls reason's attributes,) 
 Which prompts the natural but rain desire, 
 To break those cursed chains, and to be free. 
 
 Thou hast, mcthinks, the sense of right and wrong, 
 And dost retain the recollection still. 
 Of man's first injury to thee, the time 
 He robbed thee of thy birthright — Liberty. 
 Thou can'st not, or thouwould'st avenge this wrong, 
 And seize thy servile keeper, noble bird ! 
 And in thy talons bear him high in air, 
 'Twixt earth and heaven, to thy free domains ; 
 Then flap thy wings in triumph and in scorn, 
 And there release him from thy mighty grasp 
 And bid him (if but Ihoi thou could'st but speak — ) 
 " Go, seek thy native soil, the earth again." 
 
 With what impatience thou dost spread thy wings 
 Alternately, and shut them in despair! 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS, 35 
 
 I know thy spirit longs but to be free : 
 Those lighting glances of thy eagle eye, 
 Are stealing but a glimpse of yon bright sun, 
 Undazzled by the brightness of his beams, 
 
 Alas ! it must be so, proud injured bird, 
 And thou art doomed to linger out thy life — 
 To wear vile chains which nature never meant 
 That thou should'st wear. 
 It grieves me much to turn myself away, 
 And leave alone, thus fettered to the earth, 
 Imprisoned in a mean and narrow cage. 
 The emblem of our hcavcn-born liberty. 
 
 THE CLOSE OF LIFE. 
 
 He lived, his summer here hath past, 
 And autumn chills no more ; 
 
 He here endured the winter's blast, 
 Upon life's bleaky shore ! 
 
 He gazed upon the boundless sea, 
 
 And saw the dreadful brink 
 Of fathomless eternity, 
 
 Where thou and I must sink ! 
 
 Then plunged beneath the foamy wave, 
 
 And finished life's career : 
 Thus close death's billows o'er the grave 
 
 Of all our trials here. 
 
36 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 TO ADELINE — DREAMING. 
 
 She dreams, and shadowy visions throng 
 Around the couch where beauty sleeps ; 
 And friendship dedicates the song, 
 Whilst anxious love his vigils keeps. 
 
 In hour of rest 
 
 Thy hopes are blessed, 
 That wander o'er the dark blue sea ; 
 
 And those they greet, 
 
 So soft and sweet, 
 That wander back to meet with thee. 
 
 Thy bright-eyed fancy 's on the wing — 
 E'en like the carrier dove that crossed 
 The waves, I've heard thee wildly sing, 
 As though love's burthen had been lost. 
 
 Love flutters here, 
 
 'Twixt hope and fear, 
 And o'er life's deep, uncertain sea. 
 
 He seeks repose 
 
 In hearts like those 
 That are as pure as thine and thee. 
 
 Dream on, dream on,— though hope and fear 
 Crowd round the altars of thy heart, 
 
 Thou may'st retain his image here. 
 Till death from thee bids that depart. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 37 
 
 The deep sigh hush, 
 
 That steals the blush 
 Of beauty from its rosy bed — 
 
 New hopes beguile 
 
 That dreamy smile, 
 Which brings the dimples back that fled. 
 
 Sleep, gentle creature, and may dreams 
 
 As bright as fancy may suggest, ' - . 
 
 Thus Avaken in thy bosom themes 
 That ne'er shall slumber while you rest. 
 
 Love's heaven if we , 
 
 In dreams may sec, 
 Who'd wake in such a world as this, 
 
 Where sense destroys 
 
 Those purer joys, 
 And love betrays usuith a kiss. 
 
 Adieu, till morning opes thy eyes, 
 
 If thou canst sleep and dream so long; 
 Since evening, bending 'neath the skies, 
 Began as I commenced my song. 
 Yet not awake 
 Before I take, 
 {In friendship's guise I stand confessed), 
 Love's hopeless kiss, 
 Without the bliss 
 Of knowing that 'twill make me blessed. 
 5 
 
OO MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 LINES 
 
 WRITTEN IN THE ALBUM OF A VERY INTERESTING AND 
 AMIABLE YOUNG LADY. 
 
 Young flowers spring up, and bloom and die, 
 
 Oaks lift their lofty heads and fall ; 
 Days, weeks and months and years glide by, 
 
 Time buries and consumes them all. 
 On" beauty's check the rose is spread, 
 
 Whose crimson mantle soon shall fade ; 
 In conscious pride man rears his head, 
 
 That in the dust shall soon be laid. 
 
 Small streams to mighty rivers flow, 
 
 And rivers to old ocean run ; 
 The ocean from its depths below. 
 
 Yields up its spirit to the sun. 
 The unseen vapours daily rise, 
 
 Pays tribute to the God of all ; 
 His essence fills the earth and skies 
 
 Who bids again the waters fall. 
 
 Earth 's but a star of shining light. 
 
 To other far ofl!" brighter spheres ; 
 Man dwells in darkness, till the night 
 
 Of death divides his hopes and fears. 
 Here life and death — change and decay 
 
 With man and nature ever dwells, 
 'Till He shall burst the bars away, 
 
 Which locks our spirits in their cells. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 39 
 
 Then let not Beauty's toilet care, 
 
 Consume too much, thy passing time ; 
 And manhood ! " trifles light as air," 
 
 Should vanish in its early prime. 
 Frail creatures all, but look above 
 
 And view the God earth worships there ; 
 Then if this world ye wisely love, 
 
 The bliss of angels ye shall share. 
 
 Time ! ere we bid adieu to thee, 
 
 Let 's gather but earth's fairest flowers, 
 And throw aside those weeds that we 
 
 Have cherished in our misspent hours. 
 Those of the mind ; oh, let us seek. 
 
 That virtue's budding charms may bloom, 
 When in the arms of death we sleep, 
 
 That they may flourish o'er the tomb. 
 
 The Passion Flower" religion gives, 
 
 Should grow here, nearest to the heart — 
 It blooms on earth — in heaven that lives, 
 
 Whose fragrance never shall depart. 
 Still, one of folly's children, I 
 
 E'en twine the poor weeds of the world, 
 Round hope, expanding 'neath the sky, 
 
 With yet but half its leaves unfurled. 
 
 Since Time, then, doth consume all things, 
 
 On earth that 's pleasant to the view, 
 What 's round a throne, the pride of kings, 
 
 But poverty and splendour too ! 
 
40 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 The poor and rich, the high and low, 
 To time — to time must yield at last ; 
 We hug the naked dust below — 
 
 Till life, death, day and night is passed. 
 
 'PQ * * * 
 
 Go to thy slumbers ; and may dreams; 
 
 As bright as fancy can suggest, 
 Awaken in thy bosom, themes 
 
 Which should not slum])er in thy breast. 
 On downy bed, in sweet repose, 
 
 Oh ! there thy gentle form recline ; 
 No other visions there, save those 
 
 That are most bUssful, shall be thine. 
 When Fm asleep and dream of thee, 
 Oh ! think of me and dream of me. 
 
 I'll to my couch, and dream once more 
 
 Of some new Paradise of bliss ; 
 And image that I never saw, 
 
 So much of heaven before as this : 
 I'll fancy then that thou art there, 
 
 Or in some lone sequestered grove ; 
 And thou my Eden-bliss shall share. 
 
 While I shall seem to share thy love. 
 When then thy phantom form I see, 
 I'll dream of thee — I'll dream of thee. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 41 
 
 Gootl nijrht my love — good night my love ! 
 
 Till morning, dearest, think of me ; 
 And mine shall seem like bliss above. 
 
 To dream of thee — to dream of thee ; 
 Oh! to my mind, to mc it seems, 
 
 When allday's irksome toils are o'er, 
 That Heaven itself descends in dreams, 
 
 When thoughts on fancy's pinions soar. 
 'Tis morn! love's vision could not last — 
 " 'Twas bright— 'twas transient— but 'tis past." 
 
 WOMAN'S LOVE, 
 
 OR THE VALLEY OF THE HEART. 
 
 There is a lonely vale, where light, 
 
 E'en when the noon-day sun 's above, 
 Falls not with burning beams too bright, 
 
 For 'tis the shaded haunts of love. 
 That valley's where do^lc^;tic bliss, 
 
 In sweet seclusion loves to dwell ; 
 Where woman smiles, and happiness 
 
 Hath bid the noisy world farewell. 
 
 Soft twilight lures young maidens where 
 Peace dwells — to those sequestered shades ; 
 
 And morn embraces evening there, 
 'Till day's departing glory fades. 
 
42 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Summer's wild flowery beauties bloom, 
 And from the not far distant hills, 
 
 Whose verdant groves yon skies illume, 
 Flow crystal streams and sportive rills. 
 
 The earliest birds of vernal spring, 
 
 No sooner leave their downy nest, 
 Than led by nature, on the wing 
 
 They thither fly, and there are blessed. 
 And summer's songsters of the grove, 
 
 There chirp and sing, from tree to tree, 
 Where all is bliss, and all is love, 
 
 For hearts to feel and eyes to see. 
 
 Shrubs, flowers of various kind and hues, 
 
 Spring up 'midst nature's wild delight 
 No life destroying sport pursues 
 
 To death, or puts the birds to flight. 
 Then where 's that vale's secluded grounds, 
 
 " Where tyrants taint not nature's bliss !" 
 Ah ! fancy leaps o'er reason's bounds. 
 
 To dwell in such a scene as this. 
 
 There summer zephyrs whisper oft — 
 
 (And music breathes them not in words, 
 Which are too cold for tales so soft), 
 
 The lovelorn legends of the birds. 
 Sweet exhalations from the rose — 
 
 The tulips and the lily's rise; 
 First on the balmy air repose, 
 
 And then ascending, seek the skies. 
 
 \ 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 That vale's fair centre 's smooth and plain, 
 
 O'er which earth's grassy carpet 's spread ; 
 And from its circumscribed domain, 
 
 Sweet nature in her wildness fled : 
 But from that edcn-spot so fair, 
 
 And green, she did not far depart ; 
 But so hedged round her beauties there, 
 
 The valley's centre formed— a Heart. 
 
 In that heart'' s centre seems to rest, 
 
 (The valley's fountain looks so bright), 
 A diamond on spring's verdant breast, 
 
 Whose gem like beauty is its light ! 
 That fount of tears the angels weep. 
 
 Who see how bright its surface shines, 
 Is but a pool that's sunk as deep 
 
 As gems in earth embosomed mines. 
 
 Love 's centered in a woman's heart, 
 
 That heart is hidden in her breast ; 
 Deep feelings may some light impart, 
 
 But deeper ones retain the rest. 
 Drink deep, corrupt not woman's love— 
 
 Shouldst thou to that pure fountain go, 
 Lest Heaven deny the bliss above. 
 
 That heartless man destroys below. 
 
 43 
 
44 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 THE CHRISTIAN WARRIOR. 
 
 The breast-plate, righteousness and truth, 
 
 Yet shone upon the Pilgrim's breast, 
 The bright shield of liis early youth — 
 
 A "crown of glory" on his crest : 
 He " fought the good fight" of the just, 
 
 Resisted sin, and his right hand 
 Had hurled ''the tempter' to the dust. 
 
 And conquered for the " Holy Land." 
 
 Toil led the Pilgrim through tlie world, 
 
 Whom Hope sui)portcd in the strife ; 
 Her banners o'er his heart unfurled 
 
 The arms of faith— " immortal life." 
 The victor prayed, that battles won, 
 
 Whilst on temptation's ocean tost, 
 Might sink him— like the setting sun. 
 
 To rise again, and not be lost. 
 
 Old age crept on, and this world's care 
 
 Yet darkened round the Pilgrim's head ; 
 Faith tottered not, for Hope, once fair, 
 
 Grew brighter ere his spirit fled. 
 ■' Oh God!" the dying Pilgrim sung, 
 
 Ope thou the grave, the gates of bliss — 
 His spirit faltered on his tongue, 
 
 Then flew to that bright world from this, 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 NAPOLEON. 
 
 Rivers of blood have ceased to flow, 
 
 Earth's mightiest warrior is no more, 
 And this wide world may never know. 
 
 Another chief like him in war. 
 He spake — some hundred thousand men 
 
 His mandates heard, obeyed his nod ; 
 And nations feared his threatenings then, 
 
 As though the man assumed the God. 
 
 France ! when thy banners he unfurled. 
 
 And desolation's arrows flew. 
 He shouted " Freedom for the world," 
 
 And left his legacy to you. 
 He led his host through distant climes, 
 
 His arms o'er states and empires spread ; 
 He fought for Franco and future times. 
 
 While France and wounded freedom bled. 
 
 The conqueror who sought the foe, 
 
 O'er level plain and Alpine hill, 
 Then hurled at kingdoms such a blow, 
 
 Thrones in convulsions tremble still. 
 The power that bade ambition rise. 
 
 To such a dizzy height o'er all, 
 Knew his, that would have reached the skies, 
 
 On Saint Helena's rocks should fall. 
 
 45 
 
46 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS, 
 
 Rivers of blood have ceased to flow, 
 
 Earth's mightiest warrior is no more, 
 And this wide world may never know, 
 
 Another chief like him in war — 
 Who gave to Europe such a shock, 
 
 The nations trembled at his name, 
 Until they bound him to a rock, 
 
 As lasting as Napoleon's fame. 
 
 // it were XDcll, and heaven's decree. 
 
 Such mighty deeds should here be done 
 By mortal man, who would not be, 
 
 That glorious, now immortal one ! 
 Like him who would not soar as high, 
 
 From such an Alpine height who fell, 
 And leave a name that may not die, 
 
 'Till nations bid to time, farewell. 
 
 LINES 
 
 ON THE DEATH OF C. C. CONWELL, M. D. 
 
 Hence, light heeled mirth, gay creature of the brain , 
 
 Who came just now a welcome, smiling guest; 
 Hence phantom pleasure ! join thy laughing train. 
 
 Dance round thy worshippers — leave me at rest. 
 Come to my spirit, give my soul relief — 
 
 Sorrow, I take thee to my inmost heart ; 
 Stir up its fountains 'till the tears of grief, 
 
 Shall through the " windows of the soul" depart. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 47 
 
 For Death, who strikes so sure, hath aimed a blow, 
 
 At hopes that soared up to ambition's skies ! 
 As high as genius, eagle like would go, 
 
 Prepared to fly, that yet delays to rise. 
 Lo ! prostrate see the body of the youth, 
 
 That motionless cUngs to its parent sod ; 
 The soul — the soul ! I feel this mighty truth, 
 
 That left its clay behind, hath sought its God. 
 
 Oh Death ! good angels must have sent thee here, 
 
 To break great nature's chain apart, that bound 
 The soul of genius, essence bright and clear. 
 
 To that cold mass beneath the senseless mound. 
 I call thee nut " insatiate monster,'' Death! 
 
 Let heaven's unerring shafts strike where they will ; 
 The God who gave it took away his breath — 
 
 The work of life or death, is wisdom's still. 
 
 Yet o'er the early grave of him who sleeps 
 
 The sleep of death, forever to repose. 
 The Uving spirit there of genius weeps, 
 
 And beauty o'er his tomb her garland throws. 
 Fame with her half wrought laurel in her hand, 
 
 Scatters the green leaves o'er his lowly bed, 
 Looks up to heaven — points to iiis native land, 
 
 And bids thee, Erin too, lament thy dead. 
 
 Oh ! 'tis too much, the heart must overflow. 
 When sinks such feelings in a fount so deep ; 
 
 'Till thou wert dead, my bosom did not know 
 It cherished tears, one day for thee to weep. 
 
48 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 'Tis not that friendship's chain was Unked so strong, 
 That death in breaking that, might break my heart, 
 
 But that thy hopes ambition nursed so long, 
 It grieves me thus so soon to see them part. 
 
 Departed shade — dear Conwell, to thy name, 
 
 Ah ! fame's high temple not a place can give, 
 Because Death saw thy muse embracing fame — 
 
 That thou hast died too soon for that to live. 
 Because thy genius, e'er thy spirit's flight. 
 
 Remained not longer with thee in the world : 
 But thou hast sought yon brighter realms of light, 
 
 And round thy corse thy winding sheet is furled. 
 
 August 13, 1832, 
 
 THE GIPSEY GIRL. 
 
 There is a sylph-like form I've seen, 
 
 Twined round her brows a garland crow)i ; 
 She haunts the groves like fairy queen, 
 
 Then gipsey-like she hies to town. 
 Her ringlets are so raven black, 
 
 Her piercing eyes so darkly wild, 
 That when we meet, I then shrink back 
 
 From necromancy's charming' child. 
 
 But when she lifts her living wand. 
 
 Encircled by two bracelet rings, 
 And 1 would speak — she waves her hand — 
 
 Sets fetters on my tongue and sings. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 49 
 
 No serpent ever wrought such charm, 
 
 Or coiled as closely round the heart ; 
 She smiles when fears my hopes alarm, 
 
 And fascinates me ere we part. 
 
 O^, last night's dream ! methinks I feel 
 
 Her soft white hand still on my breast ; 
 Love's nightmare visions but reveal 
 
 Her form that haunts my couch of rest ; 
 Turn from rae those bright beamincr eyes, 
 
 Or hide them 'neath one raven curl, 
 Lest hope too soon desert the skies, 
 
 Beguiled by such a " Gipsey Girl." 
 
 Banks of the Schuylkill, near Philadelphia, 
 April IS, 1833. 
 
 THE GRAVE. 
 
 When life's eventful scenes are o'er. 
 
 And hearts that throbbed have ceased to beat ; 
 And smile that answered smile before. 
 
 When kindred looks of love would meet; 
 When all the fond allections here, 
 
 The heart could treasure, hope could save, 
 Have left the mourner but a tear, 
 
 Then shed that brigiit gem o'er the grave. 
 6 
 
50 MISCELLANEOUS P0EM3. 
 
 When they who wronged the sweUing heart 
 
 Of injured virtue, that had felt 
 Submissive, wounded feeUng's smart, 
 
 When kindness would that bosom melt ; 
 Since they who hated all mankind. 
 
 And coward like would scorn the brave; 
 Mocked greatness in another's mind, 
 
 Forgive— forgive them in the grave. 
 
 But he who shafts of slander hurled 
 
 Acfainst fair virtue's spotless name, 
 Extracting venom from the world, 
 
 To poison honour's deathless fame ; 
 And he who stabbed thy brother's breast. 
 
 And flew from justice like a slave, 
 To whom life gave no happy rest, 
 
 May heaven forgive them in the grave. 
 
 All those who wandered o'er the earth, 
 
 In quest of " trifles light as air," 
 Loved nothing save the haunts of mirth, 
 
 And sj)ent their days with folly there ; 
 Who mingled all their sordid joys 
 
 With all that vicious pleasure gave, 
 And laughed at virtue's moral laws, 
 
 Forget — forget them in the grave. 
 
 And they who wore upon their breast 
 
 The conqueror's pride, the victor's stars— 
 
 'Neath dark plumes o'er their shining crest, 
 Ambition's or false glory's scars ; 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 51 
 
 Who deluged smiling plains in blood, 
 
 Self glory from the wreck to save, 
 Then djed, not for their country's good, 
 
 Behold their greatness in the grave. 
 
 But those whose banners waved on high, 
 
 Who /or their country grasped the blade, 
 Who fought, thus lived, and learned to die, 
 
 And then in glory's death-bed laid ; 
 Who, seas or fields of danger crossed, 
 
 And fell, lamented by the brave — 
 That country's sense of honour 's lost. 
 
 That could forget them in the grave. 
 
 Ah ! those who, in this world of woe, 
 
 Sought hope, (that Ukc a shadow flies), 
 Until deceived so oft below, 
 
 They longed for bUss beyond the skies ; 
 And they who sunk beneath the strife 
 
 Of feelings which a death-blow gave, 
 Then ended here a weary life — 
 
 Who'd break their slumbers in the grave ' 
 
 Forgotten in the grave be those. 
 
 Whose bosoms knew not how to love ; 
 Forgiven there be all our foes, 
 
 I f we forgiveness hope above. 
 Let memory her wild-flowers spread 
 
 O'er those that sleep, the good and brave, 
 And may the virtues of the dead. 
 
 Descend not with them to the grave. 
 
53 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 How full of bustle, pomp and show, 
 
 And poverty, this Ufe of dreams. 
 Where humble pride must bend so low, 
 
 When faithless fortune veils her beams ; 
 Where purse-proud arrogance may be 
 
 Raised from the level of a slave 
 So high— the world will only see 
 
 In man, his equal in the grave. 
 
 WHAT IS LOVE 7 
 
 The sympathy of soul with soul, 
 
 When thoughts from two pure fountains run. 
 As bright as crystal streams which roll 
 
 Their waves, till both unite in one : 
 Deep ocean feels the sun's bright flame— 
 
 From earth to heaven its vapours rise ; 
 Thus love, " our being's end and aim," 
 
 At last ascending seeks the skies. 
 
 INVOCATION TO THE DEITY. ^f 
 
 Oh Thou ! who sittest on thy throne, 
 
 The source of everlasting light ! 
 Who reigns, unbounded and alone. 
 
 Supreme in majesty and might : 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 53 
 
 And whose all-seeing eye can trace 
 
 One universal system through, 
 Dost fill, thyself, the boundless space 
 
 Of thy uninterrupted view 
 
 Thy throne eternal is on high; 
 
 Thy footstool is the earth we tread : 
 Thy ample dome, the concave sky — 
 
 The starry arch above thy head. 
 Not so, my soul ! the meanest gem 
 
 Is inconceivable to me, 
 That glitters on the diadem 
 
 Of God's eternal majesty. 
 
 Should'st thou, dove-like, with outspread wings, 
 
 Sit brooding o'er some vast abyss — 
 But speak, and in existence springs 
 
 Another universe like this. 
 Thy glory 's hid, not yet revealed, 
 
 Save that which truth has brought to light : 
 If thus thy power is concealed, 
 
 How limited is mortal sight ! 
 
 As we from this terrestrial ball, 
 
 With adoration raise our eyes. 
 And hail thee as the Lord of all, 
 
 And ofl'er up a sacrifice: 
 Upon the altar of each heart 
 
 May not the holy incense burn — 
 Wilt thou accept it and impart 
 
 Thy love, thy blessing, in return ! 
 6* 
 
54 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Oh ! wilt thou condescend to hear 
 
 A mortal faintly breathe thy praise ! 
 And may a rebel thus revere — 
 
 And thus presume his voice to raise ! 
 Then shout " Hosannas" all the earth, 
 
 Until our anthems reach his throne, 
 Who gave his son, our Saviour, birth, 
 
 That God the father should be known. 
 
 Ye starry legions still proclaim — 
 
 Shine forth his glory — thus express 
 Your great almighty Maker's name ; 
 
 His wonders and his works confess. 
 He fills the silver lamp of night ; 
 
 Behold the sun ! his radiance see ! 
 All — all eternal source of light, 
 
 Are types of thy divinity. 
 
 'Tis thou who scatters forth their rays, 
 
 That bids thy universe rejoice : 
 All nature breathes and speaks thy praise- 
 
 Thc thundors imitate thy voice. 
 Even now the feathered choir sings ; 
 
 Be vocal air, earth, sea and sky, 
 With praises to the king of kings, 
 
 Who dwells in majesty on high. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 55 
 
 THE RIVAL POWERS. 
 
 BEACTY. 
 
 Beauty o'er all the world 's admired, 
 
 And yet shall be in future times ; 
 The brave it conquers — Troy it fired — 
 
 It blooms here and in distant climes. 
 There is no eartiily power below, 
 
 That plays the tyrant half so well; 
 The simple truth too well we know, 
 
 Ten thousand thousand tongues can tell. 
 In youth it blossoms like the rose, 
 
 And summer's fragrant sweets it breathes ; 
 Such charms its living tints disclose, 
 
 We think of but unfading wreaths. 
 Its eyes are full of living light — 
 
 If on the heart one ray should fall, 
 A thousand hopes rise up as bright, 
 
 Or sinking, own it ronqucrs all. 
 
 POWER OF LOVE. 
 
 "Fond youth," beware — let Beauty's lips 
 
 Plead for themselves in beauty's cause; 
 From them thy own with poison sips 
 
 Wild honey, so spare thy applause. 
 Frail beauty but derives her charms. 
 
 Not more from Venus than from me ; 
 I rest your hopes in Beauty's arms, 
 
 But Beauty rests her hopes in me. 
 
56 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 When nature's blushes o'er her cheek, 
 
 Are bright, and fair, and deep — / hush 
 The tongue that hath no power to speak, 
 
 And spread thereon a deeper blush. 
 That Uving flame 's the light of love. 
 
 That makes the conquest o'er the heart ; 
 My power remains, ('tis from above) 
 
 When youth with Beauty's charms depart. 
 
 " THE sovereign" POWER, 
 
 Poet ! be off^with Beauty go — 
 
 Soft lisping Love too, where you please ; 
 / '11 raise the gold dust round ye so, 
 
 Your zephyr sighs shall haunt the trees. 
 Fools ! ninnies ! dare dispute my power, 
 
 That hath been known and felt so long 1 
 What 's Beauty worth without a douer — 
 
 Love without gilded wings ? a song. 
 My golden sceptre when I rise. 
 
 Ye kneel — sweet zephyrs, list to me : 
 When sparkles most fair Beauty's eyes, 
 
 Beholding Love's bright smile, or me ? 
 What ! Cupid ! flown away in tears — 
 
 And beauly gone to beg in France ! 
 The spell that thus alarms thy fears. 
 
 Hath sent thy hopes to learn to dance. 
 
 HYMENEAL POWER. 
 
 Gluit Love and Beauty — sovereign gold, 
 Thou upstart glittering charmer ! hence ; 
 
 Though worshipped thus by young and old, 
 Thy power flies off with pounds and pence. 
 
 ( 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 57 
 
 Compared with me, thou art a thing, 
 
 Whose merit only shines outside ; 
 And love compared to thee 's a king 
 
 That conquers thee, the world beside. 
 I 'm monarch o'er ye all, and stand 
 
 Before the altar of my throne — 
 Yet sovereign gold! don't quit the land, 
 
 Nor " leave vie in the lurch'' alone. 
 One word at parting — Poet ! take care, 
 
 Or care may take off Love and you ; 
 Should you bring Beauty here — beware — 
 
 First bribe yow sovereign friend — adieu. 
 
 ANGEL'S VISITS. 
 
 Oh ! thou hast gone where angels dwell, 
 
 Above yon bright and rolling spheres, 
 And hcarest now the anthem's swell, 
 
 Where cherubs charm angelic cars. 
 Although descending but in dreams. 
 
 From these celestial joys above ; 
 Unearthly now the vision seems. 
 
 That brings me back departed love. 
 
 Oh, heavenly form, one moment stay, 
 Outspread thy wings — reach forth thy arms 
 
 And call mc to the realms of day, 
 To gaze on thy immortal charms ! 
 
58 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 AH essence, pure etherial flame 
 
 Hast thou become since thou wert mine ; 
 
 And when my spirit is the same, 
 'Twill mingle yet again with thine. 
 
 Oh ! could I leave this earthly soil — 
 
 " Soul wrapt in soul," with thine embrace ! 
 Then mine should quit this " mortal coil," 
 
 And seek thy spirit's resting place. 
 But ah ! forever hast thou flown ! 
 
 '•'• Thus short on earth, and far between" 
 Are angel's visits only known 
 
 In visions but too seldom seen. 
 
 How transient thy abode on earth, 
 
 In death's embrace ere thou didst sleep ! 
 To what bright hopes thou gavcst birth. 
 
 Ere thou hadst left, me here to weep. 
 Another " angel's visit" pay — ^ 
 
 But hover o'er my soul once more, 
 That night may seem celestial day, 
 
 Before my dream of life is o'er. 
 
 THE DYING CHIEF. 
 
 War's thunder ceased — 'twas still as death, 
 And not a murmuring voice was heard, 
 
 Save autumns early sigh, whose breath 
 The summer faded leaves disturbed. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 59 
 
 The warrior still survived the shock. 
 
 Whose country's new-born hopes had fled ; 
 And leaning on a moveless rock, 
 
 Looked like a statue of the dead. 
 
 'Twas evening's hour, yet silence there, 
 
 For him who mused, had lost her charms ; 
 His country's glory left him where 
 
 Her honor roused him first to arms. 
 A stubbornness and pride of soul 
 
 Like his, not Russia's power could bend ; 
 He yielded but to fate's control, 
 
 Yet knew Ufe's warfare soon would end. 
 
 Sol sunk beneath the western skies, 
 
 And twilight's curtain darker grew; 
 When laid in glory's bed, 'twould n.-^e 
 
 O'er him, his injured country too. 
 Some spirit-voice breathed in h!l>ear, 
 
 Thou art not born to be a slave — 
 Thy monument thou Ican'st on here. 
 
 Shall cast its shadow o'er thy grave. 
 
 His lips moved not that breathed a praver 
 
 For Poland, ere las hopes of bliss 
 Soared to a world more bright and fair. 
 
 To seek heaven's aid for her in this. 
 A Russian slave was lurking near — 
 
 Assassin like he aimed a blow. 
 And ere the chieftain fell, the spear 
 
 Of Poland pierced her secret foe. 
 
60 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Said he, " my prayer is heard" and died. 
 
 " This is the victory of death," 
 The warrior cliicfs assembled, cried, 
 
 Who weeping saw him yield his breath. 
 He, battle fields of carnage crossed, 
 
 Had braved war's whirlwind storms to save 
 His country's hopes, 'till all was lost, 
 
 Save honour's glory in the grave. 
 
 TO "LA FAMILLE RAVEL." 
 
 [The author, after solemn deUberatioii, resolves to immortalize (!) the 
 whole family of the Ravels^ by collecting them together on this identical 
 page. lie never saw them on tfie stage of life but once ; and on that oc- 
 casion a friend, whose name is now forgotten, gave him a passport to the 
 theatre, where he was delighted with their amusing feats : Tliis nameless 
 friend can not, of course, in this edition, receive the returned compliment 
 of a passport to the temple of time enduring/ame ; and therefore he must 
 submit to that fate whichjpn a second consideration of the subject, inevi- 
 tably awaits the author, who is now guiding his little barque down the 
 rapid yet um'uffled waters of oblivion's stream, destined, with \\s passen- 
 gers on board, already alluded to, for the ocean of eternity. "The gentle 
 reader," perhaps, will not overlook this rather whimsical preface to the 
 subject following, for the sake of the moral which it conveys] 
 
 Light footed fairies of the stage, 
 
 We welcome you from sunny France. 
 Who 'd charm the sedentary sage, 
 
 If he would but behold ye dance. 
 Such strange fantastic tricks ye play, 
 
 That, yankee like, we 're bound to guess — 
 Though necromancy only may 
 
 Charm more, you can not please us less. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 61 
 
 E'en Horace in the Latin tongue, 
 
 Such fetes had greeted with " huzzas !" 
 Though ye he meant not when he sung, 
 
 " Your lofty heads shall strike the stars !" 
 Ye dance so gracefully — so high, 
 
 Your heels if not your heads arc light, 
 Whose bouyant spirits reached the sky, 
 
 That brought " young Cupid" down last night. 
 
 No angel, " Gabriel" we saw- 
 No seraph of the skies that burned ; 
 
 Yet mortal Gabriel, " encore !" 
 
 Who such high summersets hath turned. 
 
 Summer sets in — the fall sets out 
 
 The mirth our play-house harvest yields; 
 
 You'll turn our giddy heads no doubt. 
 And Ilerr Cline vanquish from the fields. 
 
 '* Nuit auT adventures,'' ^^ Molinet," 
 
 " Ou, Ballets Pantomimes Comique" 
 " Grands suffrages'' (not thrown away) 
 
 Jerome, Jean rivals Duminiifuc. 
 '•Lc pas de Zephir," Cupid, boy — 
 
 But " four years old," and do such things ! 
 Les belles ct beaux cry " Vive Ic Roi," 
 
 So don't fly oil" without thy wings. 
 
 Last night ye reveled in our smiles, 
 
 Un-Ravel then thy art to-night ; 
 That beauty from her home bcguilos, 
 
 Whose beaming eyes are silver bright. 
 7 
 
62 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 But ah ! " Le grand Saut Perilkux" 
 May break thy neck and make us weep ; 
 
 Yet Uke " Sam Patch" don't take— adieu— 
 A last and final, fatal leap. 
 
 "The ladies all speak French in France," 
 
 But dance not like fair " Emiliej" 
 Like Madam Ravel who can dance? 
 
 Some maidens here as gracefully. 
 My hopes can only jump as high. 
 
 Yet not upon a rope to fall, 
 Lest I should break my neck and cnj, 
 
 And fright folks from a fancy-bawl. 
 
 THE CONaUEROR'S BRIDE. 
 
 " IN THE MIDST OP LIFE, WE ARE IN DEATH," 
 
 She hailed the first bright morn of May, 
 
 With strange emotions of delight ; 
 And youth and beauty's bridal day 
 
 Gave birth to new born hopes as bright. 
 As are those tints that paint the skies, 
 
 At wliich we fondly love to gaze, 
 When rainbow hues salute our eyes. 
 
 As sinks the sun's departing rays. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 63 
 
 They greeted at the festal hall, 
 
 The brave, the beautiful and fair ; 
 The fond youth smiled upon them all 
 
 Who gazed at her, assembled there 
 To witness but a girhsh thing — 
 
 A maiden take the matron's name : 
 And for a vow, love's pledge, a ring, 
 
 Receive from him she loved the same. 
 
 Ere that uncertain day had passed, 
 
 AAtrangcr, hidden from her sight, 
 To her then whispered ere 'tis passed — 
 
 " Thy love a rival meets to-night !" 
 She heard him, but she saw him not, 
 
 A faintness o'er her spirits came ; 
 Her dimples soon their smiles forgot, 
 
 Yet she knew not the rival's name. 
 
 Her bosom friends indulged the bride — 
 
 Placed Beauty's emblem in her hair ; 
 She cast her bridal dress aside, 
 
 For those the spotless angels wear. 
 In flowing robes her graceful mien — 
 
 Her beauty then all eyes confessed. 
 Though not a crimson blush was seen 
 
 To rest where it was wont to rest. 
 
 Her hair displayed the rose alone : — 
 Her neck no diamond necklace wore •, 
 
 Yet all her matchless beauty shone, 
 When all her toilet cares were o'er. 
 
64 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Friends smiled and crowded round her when 
 She could not smile, yet knew not why ; 
 
 And as they gazed upon her then, 
 She struggled to suppress a sigh. 
 
 She came forth like a timid dove. 
 
 To greet the youth who won her heart ; 
 
 To pledge to him her vows of love, 
 'Till death should sever them apart : 
 
 But ah ! then came the rival there. 
 
 Who knew, that morn, her beauties shone 
 
 As bright as " morning glories" are, 
 
 When first he claimed her as his own. 
 
 They led the trembling girl along, 
 
 Who faltered at her lover's side ; 
 In passing slowly through the throng 
 
 Toward the altar, with his bride — 
 She, ere the nuptial rites wore o'er, 
 
 Thrice fainting, fell upon his breast ; 
 An angel's smile her features wore, 
 
 And, angels gave her spirit rest. 
 
 Grim visagcd death who wooed her now, 
 
 Fast fading saw her beauty's charms ; 
 He set his seal upon her brow. 
 
 And clasped her in his icy arms. 
 They dwell among the silent dead, 
 
 Where Death, (from whom no arm could save,) 
 His canopy of darkness spread, 
 
 To deck her bridal bed — The Grave. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 65 
 
 Whilst thus she slept in Death's embrace, 
 
 The Conqueror saw pass away 
 Her spirit to its resting place, 
 
 And leave its " tenement of clay." 
 " Thus foiled !" said he—" Let earth to earth 
 
 And dust to dust united be ; ' 
 
 Since that which had ijnmortal birth, 
 
 Has married immortality." 
 
 TO "C. X. C."* 
 
 0.\ READING HIS " TURKISH ECLOGUES." 
 
 Awake, my harp, inspired by the song 
 
 Of other minstrels, touch the vocal strings ; 
 
 Let ringing echo his wild notes prolong, 
 Until again the Turkish minstrel sings ; 
 
 Until his muse adds fuel to the lire. 
 
 That warms my fancy and attunes my lyre. 
 
 Thou who hast sung of "Sharon's viny grot," 
 Of " myrrh-crowned hills, where spicy camphor grows," 
 
 Say, hast thou \iewcd that ever-blooming spot. 
 Or from the stem there plucked one crimson rose? 
 
 " The landscape picturesque, the mystic trees," 
 
 Hast fondly viewed, or imaged "scenes like these." 
 
 * The anonymous initials of the late Dr. ConweU. 
 
 7* 
 
66 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Sweet Indian beauty, from thy dreams awake ! 
 
 In Turkish costume be thy youth arrayed ; 
 Oh, that the ocean were a compassed lake, 
 
 That I might cross to see a turbaned maid, 
 And with love's holy sanction breathe my vow, 
 Although the crescent sparkled on her brow. 
 
 High favoured bard ! thy golden lute has rung, 
 Plaintive as " Cassem," and as "Genzel" sweet 
 
 "Wild as ^olian harp, on willow hung, 
 
 To woo the singing zephyrs where they meet : 
 
 Accept this humble lay, to genius due, 
 
 This simple wreath my muse has twined for you 
 
 A POEM, 
 
 AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED TO MY FATHER, AND DEDICATED 
 TO THE MEMORY OF MY MOTHER. 
 
 Oh ! sainted shade ! wilt thou not linger near, 
 When memory pays the tribute of a tear, 
 Which thus, since holy nature bids it start, 
 From the pure fount of feeling, from the heart, 
 Seems hke a gem, pellucid, clear and bright, 
 Or dew-drop, beaming with eternal light. 
 Oh! they are hallowed tears which overflow 
 Their channel-paths, that mark the course of woe; 
 Each mournful feature grief alone can trace. 
 Stamped on the heart, is pictured on the face. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 If but one pearly drop, affection's tear, 
 
 Is to thy memory, alone, so dear, 
 
 Then how did I endure my grief at first, 
 
 To feel the flood-gates of the heart had burst ; 
 
 When from this vale of tears thy spirit fled, 
 
 And thou wert numbered with the silent dead ! 
 
 Long since, the grave hath witnessed thy decay, 
 And thy frail mortal form hath passed away: 
 But when thy relics turned to kindred earth, 
 From which mankind hath sprung since nature's birth, 
 Then thy immortal spirit winged her flight, 
 Wc trust, to regions of celestial light : 
 And then, the " vital spark of heavenly flame," 
 That quit what death destroyed, thy mortal frame, 
 Burned with new lustre near his throne on high, 
 Whose altars are eternal in the sky. 
 Immortal spirits! not the chilling breath. 
 The heavy dews — the icy hand of death. 
 That seized your bodies, could the soul destroy. 
 That here was sent to seek an angel's joy. 
 
 Be each unholy passion lulled to rest- 
 Grief, throw thy sable mantle o'er my breast; 
 Hushed be tlie voice of mirth, let none intrude. 
 Nor interrupt my soul's deep solitude! 
 'Tis night— bright moon-beams dance upon the wave, 
 And throw their pale light on my mother's grave: 
 The skies are bright— the world is hushed to sleep, 
 And holy nature now beholds me weep. 
 
 67 
 
68 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Perhaps those kindred spirits which have fled, 
 The dead — now hold their converse with the dead, 
 Assembled o'er their graves in silence, where 
 Earth's mighty host repose, forgotten there. 
 
 Thee I invoke, thou spirit of the past, 
 Of years gone by that were too bright to last! 
 Long may the light upon thy altars shine. 
 That I may kneel before thy hallowed shrine; 
 And whilst the vital flame shall warm my heart, 
 Thy spirit, memory! shall ne'er depart. 
 
 Oh! but for that, oblivion's night had spread, 
 Her canopy of darkness o'er the dead : 
 And thou, whom God decreed should give me birth, 
 (Since thou art buried in the cold damp earth) 
 Hadst never left a single trace behind, 
 And not one living feature on my mind. 
 That blessed boon the God of nature gave, 
 Brings back to life the tenants of the grave; 
 Awakes, reanimates the slumbering dust 
 Of those — the good, the virtuous and the just. 
 Until the sleep of death our eyelids close, 
 'Till we ourselves find nature's last repose. 
 Sink to the earth, and moulder in the tomb. 
 And meet mankind's inevitable doom: 
 'Till we become a mass of senseless clay. 
 And like them perish, like them pass away. 
 They still may live and be the mournful themes. 
 To greet our visions and to bless our dreams. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 69 
 
 My mother ! long revered shall be thy name : 
 And since thou art no more, the sacred claim 
 Thy memory yet makes upon my heart, 
 'Till that shall cease to throb, shall ne'er depart. 
 When in the silent tomb thy form was laid. 
 How much maternal love was unrepaid ; 
 Oh ! when thy spirit quit this '•' vale of tears," 
 And my vain heart was full of hopes and fears ; 
 Wlicn pleasure's throng would fixscinatc my gaze, 
 As youth's bright rising sun sent forth its rays; 
 And when each passing cloud obscured their light. 
 And I would weep because they shone less bright ; 
 How transient was my grief that thou had fled — 
 How soon 'twas hushed — how few the tears I shed! 
 How soon I mingled with the world, and thought 
 Its pleasure could not be too dearly bought! 
 Too soon I laid my weeds of mourning by, 
 Forgetting thou wcrt dead — that I slioulddie: 
 If not too late, oh! sainted shade forgive, 
 And I will bless thy memory whilst I live. 
 Oh, thou hast sliiclded — fed me at thy breast, 
 And thou hast lulled me there to quiet rest ; 
 There I have smiled unconscious of thy tears — 
 Hushed by thy whispers were my infant fears : 
 Thy lullaby hath soothed my childish grief. 
 When thy soul's anguish knew no sweet relief; 
 When thy breast laboured to suppress the sigh, 
 Which forced the tear that trembled in thy eye. 
 Secure in thine, in nrtuc's arms I slept. 
 When o'er a mother's care, my mother wept. 
 
70 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 As childhood dawned and health bloomed on my cheek, 
 
 When first my infant lips assayed to speak, 
 
 And I had learned to lisp her much loved name, 
 
 And urge upon her love each idle claim : 
 
 When on my mind the mental light first dawned, 
 
 And new-born passions in my heart were formed ; 
 
 A mother's duty and a guardian's care 
 
 Sowed the first seeds of moral virtue there ; 
 
 Taught me, in broken accents to rehearse, 
 
 The prayer of worship and the hymn in verse: 
 
 Plucked each intruding weed that seemed inchned 
 
 To check the growth of virtue in the mind, 
 
 And shed religion's light upon my heart. 
 
 That cherished hopes which never shall depart. 
 
 She loved me thus in infancy and youth, 
 
 And. hoped to guide me through the paths of truth. 
 
 But he, who rules the universe, on high, 
 Whose boundless wisdom fills the earth and sky; 
 Whose ways no earth-born mortal, formed of dust. 
 Should dare, profanely dare, to think unjust ; 
 (Although the wrath of heaven itself should fall, 
 Among ten thousand, and yet spare them all, 
 Save one alone, the shepherd of the flock. 
 Who saw the thunderbolt, and felt the shock!) 
 'Twas he whose praise the universe hath sung, 
 Who aimed the fatal shaft and struck thee dumb 
 And palsied half thy frame — and when his rod — 
 (The visitation of almighty God) 
 Thy heart-strings broke — thou didst resign thy breath, 
 And thy soul's struggles to the victor, death. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 71 
 
 When I forget with what submission thou 
 In secret at his foot -stool learned to bow; 
 When I forget the language of thy eye, 
 As, speechless, thou didst gaze upon the sky, 
 Instructing me to place my hopes on high — 
 Oh! when maternal love hath lost all claim 
 Upon the heart — I may forget thy name : 
 'Till then my memory shall guard the shrine 
 Where rests my mother's love — a gill divine. 
 
 November 11, 1829. 
 
 WINTER. 
 
 Hark ! nature's herald voices loud proclaim, 
 Spring, summer, autumn's mournful reign is passed: 
 
 Ere I depart I'll breathe his chiUing name, 
 And be prepared, oh earth! to meet the blast. 
 
 Winter is coming — mighty columns roll 
 
 In clouds before him as he moves along: 
 He comes to exercise his stern control, 
 Attended by the spirits of the storm. 
 
 He comes — he comes — I feel his icy hand — 
 Hast gathered in thy harvest from the field 1 
 
 He comes to sway his sceptre o'er the land, 
 And to the snow-crowned king the seasons yield. 
 
72 MISCELI^ANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Winter hath come— the whirlwinds rend the sky, 
 
 The rivers are with icy fetters bound : 
 As through the desert air the snow flakes fly, 
 
 He spreads his frosty carpet o'er the ground. 
 
 Winter hath come — the tempest roars aloud, 
 And louder surges lash the rocky shore ; 
 
 Lo ! desolation's lianging like a cloud, 
 
 O'er scenes where summer bloomed and smiled before. 
 
 Winter hath come to bleach the closing year, 
 
 Whose bloom hath faded and whose summer's past; 
 
 Autumn hath sung her requiem while here, 
 And vanished as she blew a mournful blast. 
 
 Winter hath come ! the " monarque of the wood,'' 
 
 In all its naked majesty and strength, 
 That hath a century of years withstood 
 
 The storm, falls prostrate on the earth at length. 
 
 And lo! the forest yields, the branches bow ; 
 
 And some fall prostrate, some withstand the shock : 
 Oh, fearful sight ! the loftiest spire now, 
 
 Upon its strong foundation seems to rock. 
 
 Winter will pass away — the season close — 
 Thus, shrouds of darkness veil his awful form, 
 
 Who welcomes in the summer of repose, 
 
 Or rides upon the whirlwind through the storm. 
 
 November, 1829. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 73 
 
 FULL LENGTH PORTRAIT 
 
 OF A YOUN'G LADY. 
 
 " AlasI the course of true love never did run smooth.^' 
 
 As darts the silvery beams from burning skies, 
 
 Or heaven's own galaxy of starry eyes, 
 
 Ere smiling nature greets the face of day, 
 
 The golden sun- beam and the cheering ray; 
 
 So in their spheres those rolling orbs of thine, 
 
 Shed beauty's glances from thy soul o'er mine. 
 
 As Venu.^, on her .starry throne of light, 
 
 Shines there the brightest queen of all that's bright, 
 
 Even so thy form moves gracefully along. 
 
 Where bright eyes sparkle, and where beauties throng ; 
 
 With thee I mingled in the mazy dance. 
 
 And from those orbs of light stole many a glance. 
 
 When thou and other beauties graced the ball, 
 
 When thou wert there, the rival of them all. 
 
 With thee, who would not join that smiling train ] 
 
 Not I — 111 never meet thee tlicre again. 
 
 Proud, peerless beauty! have I thought thee fair? 
 
 Look on my heart — thy portrait still is there. 
 
 Thy smile, oh! nature's beauties seemed to be. 
 
 The fairest, brightest type, resembling thee. 
 
 At morn I've seen the twilight shades depart. 
 And felt Aurora's smile upon my heart ; 
 As when the risuig sun or solar ray, 
 Breaks through and drives the morning mist away, 
 
 8 
 
74 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 So thy bright smile (I fancy now it beams) 
 Bursts on my mind : — Love, wakened from his dreams, 
 Springs to existence, and bright visions rise, 
 Illumined in the sun-light of thy eyes. 
 
 As when the zephyrs whisper in the grove, 
 Breathe in soft sighs their legend tales of love, 
 And waft their balmy fragrance through the air. 
 Which they had stolen from the roses there; 
 So thy soft voice in softer whispers hushed, 
 When on thy check the rose of beauty blushed, 
 Breathed sweeter fragrance, when it could impart 
 Love's melody of music to my heart. 
 
 Each feature of thy youthful face is fair. 
 And golden ringlets seem thy auburne hair; 
 Thy brow ! though beauty's portrait painter now. 
 Can I do justice to that pohshcd brow 1 
 Cease fancy, fickle fugitive, to roam. 
 Call that the summit of its lofty throne ; 
 The convex arch whose inward graces shine, 
 On which bright Venus set her seal divine. 
 
 Love ! can that passion linger in my breast 7 
 Aye, lurking boy — but don't disturb its rest. 
 
 'Tis thou, in all thy loveliness arrayed. 
 Whose charms have faded not, yet soon must fade : 
 'Tis eyes that sparkle — ruby lips that glow. 
 The smile that once delighted, charmed me so; 
 It is thy form, thy features, where I trace 
 Bright lines of beauty — 'tis the charms of grace 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 79 
 
 That now awakes my muses minstrelsey — 
 I sing of others as I sing of thee. 
 As youth glides by, crowds kneel at beauty's shrine ; 
 But I " a statue,' coukl not bend to thine. 
 Thy heaving breast — but what may I compare 
 To that, whose snowy whiteness is so fair 1 
 Snow's colder than thy faithless heart, I know ; 
 Yet, what enshrines that heart is /air as snow. 
 
 By fancy's whims at last I'm captive led — 
 Thy feet, that still the paths of pleasure tread ; 
 Though prudence bids my modest muse to hush, 
 Or, though the prude should try in vain to blush ; 
 Although ihy coral lips should pout, I own 
 I can not let thy pretty feet alone ; ' 
 
 The oath is not poetic, but I swear 
 Silk hose and clock-work veil thy beauties there. 
 Lady, I've sketched each outward charm and grace, 
 The matchless beauties of thy form and face ; 
 I've called thee haughty as I've called thee fair — 
 But unrequited love must not stop there; 
 Since thou hast broke the charm— love's golden chain. 
 Thou canst not win a lost heart back again: 
 Though we should meet again, again should part, 
 Thou nor thy charms can never break my heart. 
 
76 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 [On Sunday last, the Reverend Doctor Hurley administered at SL 
 Augustine's churcli, the "holy sacrament," or "the communion" rites, 
 according to the Catholic forms, to from eighty to a hundred young girls, 
 whose ages varied from ten to seventeen, or thereabouts. The scene is 
 said to have been unusually solemn, impressive, and beautiful. They each 
 wore a white robe, with a veil to correspond ; the interesting ceremony 
 performed was witnessed by a large congregation assembled for that pur 
 poae, and gave rise to the following lines.] 
 
 Sweet, virgin innocence ! to thee belongs 
 
 The star-Ught musings of an evening hour ; 
 Chaste thought and word — pure spirit breathing songs — 
 
 The lay angelic, heard in Eden bower, 
 Which fancy crowds with bright seraphic throngs. 
 
 Whilst dormant reason owns her magic power. 
 Then be my thoughts as pure as Dian's dream, 
 To suit the music of so sweet a theme. ■ 
 
 Upon a sabbath morn, in robes arrayed, 
 
 Wliich seemed as bright as those bright angels wear, 
 
 A hundred virgins at the altar laid, 
 
 Hope's sure foundation of a temple there — 
 
 Not for those earthly hopes which bloom to fade. 
 And waste their essence and so transient are ; 
 
 But those which live when beauty's bloom has fled, 
 
 To bear their spirits up when they are dead. 
 
 Did not some angel leave her native skies, 
 
 And then descend to earth on mercy's wings. 
 And bid those gentle {)rostrate beings rise. 
 
 Whilst pride still fluttered at the feet of kings ! 
 Here, pride may sink, lest wisdom ope our eyes, 
 
 To see the beauty of diviner things. 
 E'en but to view so fair a scene as this, 
 Fills the rapt soul with thoughts of holy bliss. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 There, bright-eyed innocence, fair virtue's child, 
 And maiden beauty in the bloom of youth, 
 
 Religion at her altar saw, and smiled 
 To see them bow before the God of truth, 
 
 Ere this world's cold hypocrisy beguiled, 
 Hopes which when poisoned by that serpcnfs tooth, 
 
 Too oft retain the venom to the last, 
 
 'Till sin and sorrow, Ufe and death is passed. 
 
 What were their virgin vows 7 as chaste as snow, 
 The purity of virtue's charms to keep; 
 
 To sully not religion's name — to know. 
 Those early hopes that trust in faith, shall reap, 
 
 If not their full reward on earth below, 
 
 Yet, when their spirits waken from death's sleep, 
 
 All that they live for who are born to die. 
 
 The harvest of eternal joys on high. 
 
 Presumption, hence ! that would pronounce on earth, 
 Their spirit's destiny, nor dare condemn 
 
 That deep embosomed faith, which here gives birth 
 To hopes as bright as those of thine, in them: — 
 
 Let sweet religiofi prove their moral worth — 
 Dim not the lustre of the purest gem, 
 
 That shines the brightest in the human heart, 
 
 'Till its last pulse shall cease, and life depart. 
 
 Pfi iladelphia, Oct. 17, 1832. 
 
 8* 
 
'^S MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 CONCILIATORY EPISTLE. 
 
 To , (confidential.) 
 
 When thou wast " o'er the hills and far away," 
 
 (My heart was bleeding just before we parted:) 
 I hoped that where thou wast, there thou would' st stay, 
 
 Or else return to meet me, broken hearted. 
 But safe and sound thou hast returned at last, 
 
 Kissed my mamma and every dear relation ; 
 "Yet I'm coquetting with the time that's passed. 
 
 When now 's the time for reconciliation. 
 
 I wondered why thou did'st bewitch mc so. 
 
 When thou wast near me, yet I know the reason; 
 Thy hand^s engaged to one mustached beau — 
 
 To reap the harvest of his wealth this season. 
 But has thy Jxeart engaged him? that he'll swear, 
 
 Who thinks he loves thee, for there are such ninnies. 
 Who can not tell exactly what they are, 
 
 Or what they want, except when they lack guineas. 
 
 " Perhaps" you love him — had he seen how shy 
 
 Thou wast of me, but only in his presence. 
 He might have thought such birds as you might fly 
 
 Away from him, when he was shooting pheasants. 
 Oh why did'st thou torment me so the while, 
 
 When at a prize like thee my heart was aiming ; 
 And so bewitch me with thy sweetest smile. 
 
 When thou with me, and he with birds was gaming! 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 79 
 
 I've none to boast of, yet, had he my wits 
 
 And I his fortune with its charms about me, 
 Then love who at the mark he aims at, hits, 
 
 Had left my rival in the lurch without thee. 
 To hunt a fortune is " the game of life." 
 
 Thy heart is set on one, that 's all about it, 
 Since I've no fortune, prithee be his wife, 
 
 Though thou would'st take me with, but not without it. 
 
 The London lover's case was worse than mine ; 
 
 Thou did'st coquette with me but to repent it: 
 Let tears ne'er fiill from eyes as bright as thine — 
 
 The more we love the more we may lament it: 
 Go to his cold embrace thou destined bride. 
 
 With golden Hymen's heavy chains about thee ; 
 I '11 soon get married too — nay — do not chide, 
 
 Since there's no living with, I '11 die without thee. 
 
 SONG FOR THE POOH. 
 "the earth is the lord's, and the fulness thereof." 
 
 Kind Heaven forgive us when we do repine, 
 Who should not murmur 'gainst the will of fate ; 
 
 Deep rooted anguish of the heart is mine. 
 
 Since there is none to mourn my hapless state. 
 
. I 
 
 80 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Be mine the treasures of the soul, though poor, 
 
 Though pompous pride ne'er nursed me in my youth ; 
 
 If hope's foundations fail that were not sure, 
 I feel they 're broken by the force of truth. 
 
 Ah ! years of childhood and its dreams of bliss, 
 Like morning twilight at the break of day. 
 
 Vanish like spirits from a world like tliis. 
 When Hope eternal bears them hence away. 
 
 Had I but seen before my infant eyes, 
 Life's tempest clouds rest o'er my future years, 
 
 My spirit then had longed to reach the skies. 
 Where smiles serene are never dimmed by tears. 
 
 Cold penury, Oh ! whatsoe'er thou art, 
 
 Though good intended by a present ill, 
 Thy breath that chills me can not freeze my heart, 
 
 Whilst Providence submits me to its will. 
 
 Know you, frail creatures of a transient day, 
 
 With this world's brightness beaming on your breast, 
 
 Your mantled bosoms shall in dust decay. 
 When Death shall tear from you Pride's purple vest. 
 
 And know'st thou not, with helmet on thy head, 
 
 On whose bright crest the nodding plume now waves, 
 
 Though glory's visions throng around thy bed. 
 Its slumbers are unbroken in the graves ! 
 
 Know ye who sleep in affluent repose, 
 
 Upon the couch that pleasure strews with flowers — 
 Who scorn the poor. Death's lurking near the rose, 
 
 And in concealment lures thee to thy bowers! 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 81 
 
 Know'st thou who leans on Hope, that rests on earth, 
 "Who mock the poor that place their hopes on high, 
 
 Her heart perhaps grew sick who gave thee birth, 
 That sorrow's offspring died as thou mayest die ! 
 
 You who are wretched yet may happy be, 
 You who arc happy be more wretched still ; 
 
 Riches have wings and traitor like may flee 
 From those who trust to fickle Fortune's will. 
 
 Oh! for a pure and philosophic mind, 
 
 That wc might ever feel the truth we test; 
 
 When armed with virtue's shield, we're more inclined 
 To pity pride, whose meanness stands confessed. 
 
 Here wisdom learns her lessons o'er the grave, 
 Where rich and poor shall slumber side by side. 
 
 And rot together, where Deaths banners wave 
 O'er friend and foe — where there 's no room for pride. 
 
 GiRARD's vast treasure, all the good 't will yield. 
 
 If but ambition sealed the great bequest, 
 (This sacred truth the scripture hath revealed)— 
 
 Will prove no passport to eternal rest. 
 
 His iNDi'STRY sought WEALTH, GOOD all its aim ; 
 
 Pride never set its signet on his mind : 
 He lived to rear a temple to his fame, 
 
 And died, a bright example to mankind. 
 
 Few scatter Fortune's bounties 'mong the poor, 
 Earned by the labour ofUfe's harvest time; 
 
 And his reward in heaven may be sure. 
 Who toiled for virtue and discarded crime. 
 
82 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 " The earth 's the Lord's, its fulness all His own: 
 The poor can have the riches of His love ; 
 
 The rich too may be blessed, if from his throne 
 The bounty they deserve that 's from above. 
 
 THE ADIEU. 
 
 " Dear d d distracting Muse, farewell !" 
 
 Thou hast bewildered so niy brain, 
 And conjured up in music's cell, 
 
 Such thoughts, my fancy 's wild again. 
 I'll bid thee. Sorceress, adieu — 
 
 Thy necromancy 's lost its power; 
 Good bye to that, to rhyme and you, 
 
 Whose smile makes fortune look so sour. 
 
 Farewell — don't weep my lady muse — 
 
 'Tis NINE to one, there's truth in this ; 
 'Twixt two great evils let me choose 
 
 The greatest that yields greater bliss. 
 So argue those who 've not enough 
 
 Of gold, and have too much of thee, 
 Whose heads or pockets want " the stuff" 
 
 That genius never coined for me. 
 
 Oh, do not sob so loud — depart. 
 And leave me to myself resigned ; 
 
 First measure all that 's left, the heart, 
 And weigh my manhood by my mind. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 88 
 
 Suspend not Fortune's golden scales, 
 
 To-day my empty head feels light; 
 To-morrow, ere my courage fails, 
 
 My heart 1 think will set it right. 
 
 Nay, false one ! wo shall meet no more 
 
 On this side of oblivion's grave ; 
 Why hast thou led me to the shore, 
 
 To plunge me 'ncath its silent wave I 
 Ah ! every stanza I have wrote, 
 
 Forever must remain unsung ; 
 Since Fame won't give me for them a groat ^ 
 
 Thou and thy harp should here be hung. 
 
 I go — the river's dark and deep — 
 
 I do not like thy "limpid streams ;" 
 Beneath those waters must I sleep, 
 
 And never awake again in dreams! 
 I'll write my name upon the sand — 
 
 When gone, write thou my epitaph ; 
 Dost smile, and lend thy lily hand 
 
 To save me ! madness, do not laugh ! 
 
 " I'm off" from this — but know, coquette^ 
 
 That vrhcn I take French leave of thee, 
 I'll leave the trap which thou hast set, 
 
 That others may be caught, not me. 
 The literary bucks who chase 
 
 Belles lettres fame, or timid decrs, 
 May round Parnassus run the race. 
 
 Through flowery hopes and bramble fears. 
 
84 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Fine fun — the lurking critics there, 
 
 Like wolves will fasten on their prey; 
 Brave fellows too, who will not spare 
 
 The stronger " lions of the day." 
 They let the bullfrog poet sing 
 
 Gtuite unmolested in the bog : 
 Of poets then who 'd be the king — 
 
 Who would not rather be the frog! 
 
 Go, faithless, fond, provoking queen 
 
 Of fancies bright, and feeUngs strong ; 
 Let Fame hide thee behind her screen, 
 
 Which never echoes back my song. 
 Stay there, and mock me if you please. 
 
 But should'st thou tantalize my brain 
 With something hke such thoughts^ as these- 
 
 Perhaps I'll " cut and come again." 
 
 LINES 
 
 TO THE AMIABLE AND INTERESTING LAPY OP MY PARTICU- 
 LAR FRIEND, WHEN CONVALESCENT. 
 
 Sweet nature set upon thy brow so fair. 
 
 The seal of beauty, yet thy charms must fade ; 
 
 Time steals the blushes from 5'on roses, where, 
 They, hke the lily, shun the forest shade : 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 85 
 
 Heaven's light rests on their leaves, and summer's breath, 
 With fervent kisses, blends those tints divine — 
 
 Ere winter comes, sere autumn's chill of death 
 Strikes out their charms that rival only thine. 
 
 Thou art fair virtue's cherished child : — when earth 
 
 Wears snow-clad robes as white as those I see, 
 Thy spirit's brightness that to hope gives birth. 
 
 Shall shed soft lustre o'er thy friends and thee. 
 Kfcrnal summer bliss but dwells on high — 
 
 That pure etherial air the angels breathe, 
 Surrounds the soul that is not born to die, 
 
 Where cherub hands entwine sweet virtue's wreathe. 
 
 DREAM OF THE DEPARTED. 
 
 Come summer soothing thoughts awhile, 
 
 Though winter's snow is falling fast, 
 And warm my bosom with a smile, 
 
 Whilst memory recalls the past — 
 A blessed power which ever brings 
 
 Together mingled smiles and tears, 
 When 'neath the twilight of her wings, 
 
 Sweet visions of the pa.st appears. 
 
 I now see shadowy forms Hit by — 
 The silent and promiscuous throng. 
 
 Of those who here were born to die 
 So soon, to make life seem so long. 
 9 
 
86 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Ethereal spirits hover near, 
 Around this prison house of clay, 
 
 And seek my soul's embraces here, 
 That dare not throw her chains away. 
 
 Yet life is sweet, though "hours there are," 
 
 Of gloom and gladness, light and shade, 
 When day's bright beam and evening's star, 
 
 Together blend, together fade — 
 When Hope, half smiling, turns her eyes. 
 
 Half fdlcd with tears, and only sees 
 A misty cloud before her rise. 
 
 And looking backward, scenes like these. 
 
 Pass onward — fancy 's in the field. 
 
 And memory reviews ye all ; 
 Unguarded reason drops her shield, 
 
 And o'er me gentle slumbers fall : 
 Half earthly and half heavenly smiles, 
 
 Without one tear salutes me now, 
 And looks which my rapt soul beguiles, 
 
 Thus bids me to this vision bow. 
 
 1 know thee 'mong the throngs unknown, 
 
 Which pass in crowds before my mind ; 
 Thy spirit from this world hath flown, 
 
 And to a happier world 's resigned. 
 And loved thee like that phantom form, 
 
 That passes next before my eyes. 
 Whose bosom had a heart too warm 
 
 For this cold world, so sought the skies. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 87 
 
 A wandering cherub, from its birth, 
 
 Who scarcely lived two summers here. 
 That left a mother's arms on earth, 
 
 Who left this world without a tear — 
 1 see, both mother and the child 
 
 Together range, together move. 
 As when they on each other smiled, 
 
 Though death divided not their love. 
 
 Another paanrom form glides by — 
 
 Dark ringlet tresses o'er her breast 
 Contrast its whiteness, and her eye 
 
 Tells me her happy spirit 's blessed. 
 Ere fourteen summer suns arose, 
 
 She gave her breath to him who gave 
 Her life and being, and left those 
 
 Who loved, to mourn her in the grave : 
 
 Aye, in immortal robes, as white 
 
 And pure as heaven's descending snow. 
 With eyes, for earthly eyes too bright, 
 
 With thoughts too pure from earth to How — 
 1 see thee, with that placid smile, 
 
 Bestow an angel's look on me. 
 And seraph-hkc, my soul the while 
 
 Embraces all that's left of thee. 
 
 Ah, fancy ! sport not with my pain — 
 Why bring with them from heaven to earth, 
 
 ( Who there we yet may meet again), 
 This phantasma of ill-timed mirth 7 
 
88 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 And forms of those 1 never saw, 
 With features that 1 never knew ! 
 
 IVIy spell-begotten dream is o'er. 
 
 And laughing phantoms vanish too. 
 
 Such visits from the realms of bliss, 
 
 To such a stormy world of woe, 
 Lifts up our soaring hopes from this, 
 
 To bring such beings here below. 
 But here so mingle hopes and fears ; 
 
 Serene and cloudy skies so blend 
 With joy and grief, and smiles and tears, 
 
 Sad thoughts with gayer fancies end. 
 
 THE SYBIL'S PROPHECY. 
 
 Since thou thy destiny would'st hear. 
 
 And dost command me to relate 
 Each source of future hope or fear, 
 
 That 's written in the book of fate — 
 Attentive be, and know the while 
 
 1 look upon that polished brow, 
 A dark cloud passes o'er the smile 
 
 That plays upon its surface now., 
 
 Ah lady ! with those eyes of love. 
 That yesterday with tears were bright, 
 
 Seest thou yon silver orb above 1 
 And lo ! 'tis clouded from thy sight ! 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. _ 89 
 
 Thus soft the rays that on my miiid 
 Have dawned ; but as I spake, passed o'er 
 
 A cloud of fears, where hopes enshrined, 
 Such darkness never knew before. 
 
 Wilt thou not shrink to hear a truth 
 
 That can not soothe those doubts and fears 1 
 Know then, false hearted is the youth 
 
 Who breathes love's music in thy ears. 
 The vow i.s false which he hath sworn — 
 
 This ring thou wearest — even this, 
 Another fair as thou has worn, 
 
 And he betrayed her with a kiss. 
 
 Thy heart is yet love's holy shrine, 
 
 Deep rooted is the passion there: 
 Too fondly cherished — too divine 
 
 To be abandoned in despair. 
 But ah ! last night's foreboding dream, 
 
 (Well may thy blushing cheek turn pale), 
 Will be thy heart's corroding theme, 
 
 When sighs and tears can nought avail. 
 
 Ere yon new moon is full and bright, 
 
 Thy bosom's fears shall l)e at rest ; 
 That youth may meet thy eyes of light, 
 
 Return and clasp thee to his breast. 
 But ere another moon appears. 
 
 The proud false-hearted one will prove 
 A traitor to thee, and thy tears 
 
 Shall tell the tale of injured love. 
 9* 
 
90 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Thy form, so fair, shall waste away, 
 
 The rose of beauty leave thy cheek ; 
 Thy maiden charms shall fast decay, 
 
 Thy eye grow dim, thy voice grow weak 
 But thou, all guileless as thou art, 
 
 Shall be preserved as chaste as now ; 
 Love's victim with a broken heart, 
 
 Shall sink beneath a broken vow. 
 
 When tears have answered to thy sighs, 
 
 This world and thou have lost thy charms, 
 Thou shall, love's last fair sacrifice. 
 
 Then slumber in death's icy arms. 
 In mercy I will not reveal 
 
 That dreadful day of doom to thee ! 
 And yon bright glowing skies conceal 
 
 Thy spirit's brighter destiny. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 "'tis love, still LOVE." 
 
 Oh ! infant love ! when first I saw 
 
 Thy rosy smiles like sun-beams play 
 Around my heart, 1 asked no more. 
 
 So rich thy blessing seemed that day. 
 When thy soft whispers met ray ears, 
 
 1 thought celestial joys above. 
 Which cherubs sing of in the spheres, 
 
 Surpassed not here the bliss of love. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 91 
 
 Like summer breathings seemed those sighs, 
 
 Which made fair Beauty's bosom swell 
 With sweet emotions — and her eyes 
 
 Told more than language dared to tell. 
 Suspended on hope's golden chain 
 
 My fond anticipations hung, 
 And I had spoken — but in vain, 
 
 Love placed his fetters on my tongue. 
 
 Oh! why was I forbid to speak — 
 
 This new-born passion to express ? 
 The heart replies — words are too weak 
 
 To utter all its tenderness ! 
 'Tis why from Beauty's beaming eyes 
 
 Such glances full of meaning dart ; 
 Whene'er she hears her lover's sighs, 
 
 Their echoes vibrate on her heart. 
 
 These are love's tokens — looks are words, 
 
 And sighs, that answer to those looks. 
 Explain their meaning, like the birds 
 
 That sing beside the summer brooks. 
 Oh ! could I bow at Beauty's shrine 
 
 As I have fondly knelt before ; 
 So rich the blessings, .so d ivino 
 
 Love's rosy smiles, I ask no more. 
 
92 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 LOVE'S "MINIATURE PAINTERS. 
 
 A maiden to a sylvan grove 
 
 Once wandered to beguile the hours, 
 
 Where zephyrs breathe their sighs of love, 
 And youth and beauty build their bowers. 
 
 But evening twilight soon appeared: 
 The maiden started — " I am lost," 
 
 She cried, yet knew not what she feared, 
 Until a form the path-way crossed. 
 
 (The timid girl imagined not 
 
 A youth was "coming through the rye," 
 To meet — or at love's hallowed spot, 
 
 To steal one glance from her bright eye.) 
 
 But ah ! she knew not whom she saw ! 
 
 She fainted there ; and in a trance 
 To her distracted friends he bore 
 
 Her lovely form — there met her glance. 
 
 They parted, and one summer sun 
 Revolved, and winter too had flown ; 
 
 The youth knew not her heart he 'd won, 
 Yet both in secret sighed alone. 
 
 A man there was whose matchless skill 
 Fame spread abroad, while yet a youth ; 
 
 Whose pencil, that obeyed his will, 
 In glowing colours copied truth. 
 
MISCELLAXEOUS POEMS. 93 
 
 To him, unknown, the fair one wrote — 
 
 Enclosed a miniature she 'd drawn, 
 Of one then far away, remote, 
 
 With whom her happiness had gone. 
 
 • Pray, sir, (she wrote) oh ! copy tliis. 
 
 Exert thy utmost skill and pains, 
 And should'st thou sigh for golden bliss, 
 
 Whate'er the price, I'll grant thy claims." 
 
 The artist broke the seal-like charm, 
 Thought fancy, then, in sport played tricks 
 
 But soon hope hushed the false alarm. 
 Her blushing seal soon met liis Ups. 
 
 He saw his features there portrayed ! 
 
 The artist too could imitate 
 Sweet nature: he had long since made 
 
 The fair one's copy for his sake. 
 
 ■' My price is set, I claim thee then," 
 
 In c.ttacy the artist cried ; 
 " Thou art thyself a priceless gem," 
 
 Worth more than all the world beside. 
 
 And from his bosom forth he drew 
 Her miniature in diamonds bright. 
 
 As clear as crystal drops of dew. 
 That sparkle in the rosy light. 
 
94 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 The messenger of love then went 
 With her fair image back, yet knew 
 
 Not what the youthful artist sent, 
 Until he saw her features glow. 
 
 She broke the seal, and blushing, saw 
 Her portrait — one of Cupid's tricks 
 
 Thought she — but then she thought no more, 
 Until his seal had met her lips. 
 
 1 quote from his epistle — thus 
 
 It closed — " We'll meet no more to part ; 
 To meet again we surely must, 
 
 Or lady, give me back my heart. 
 
 "Return the token, I would know 
 
 If this is not a dream of bliss ! 
 Send back thy portrait ere I go 
 
 In search of thee and happiness." 
 
 'Twas wafted back on wings of love, 
 (For Cupid's chariot hath wings;) 
 
 And soon both hastened to the grove ; 
 I cease — the sequel Hymen sings. 
 
 DECEIVING HOPES. 
 
 Oh ! where hath gone the peace of mind, 
 That mingled with the smile of pleasure ; 
 
 When in this bosom was enshrined, 
 Each fond hope to the soul a treasure ! 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 95 
 
 When childhood was life's smiling spring, 
 
 And all was innocence and gladness ; 
 And buoyant hope was on the wing, 
 
 Without this heavy weight of sadness. 
 Oh! where are now those joys I 've known ! 
 Like half-remembered dreams theyl've flown. 
 
 The spring of Ufe has passed away — 
 
 Its summer here shall soon have vanished; 
 New hopes had birth and where are they '? 
 
 Youth has not fled, but they are banished. 
 Like summer roses they have smiled. 
 
 But ah ! relentless fate suspended, 
 Some charm above me that beguiled 
 
 Those hopes with pain, and pleasure blended. 
 Thus o'er our exiled hopes we sigh! 
 But while youth lasts they can not die. 
 
 What are those hopes I've treasured here, 
 
 Within this bosom's fount of feeling ; 
 Whence often flows the silent tear. 
 
 And deep emotions thus revealing ! 
 Though they seem phantom forms of bliss, 
 
 And dance around the mind when sleeping, 
 They yield no real happiness, 
 
 But mock us when the heart is weeping. 
 With earth-born hopes, oh ! why not part — 
 The smiling traitors break the heart. 
 
96 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 In spring, they imaged something bright, 
 
 And fairer in life's summer season : 
 Ere flashed upon my mind, the light 
 
 Of truth, so blended here with reason. 
 Love mingled with each blissful theme. 
 
 When beauty's smile my heart elated ; 
 Hope proved most like an empty dream. 
 
 When nearest to the heart related. 
 With earth-born hopes then why not part- 
 The smiUnff traitors break the heart. 
 
 [The following simple stanzas were suggested by the perusal of a de- 
 lightlid volume, entitled the "Pleasures of Frieiidsliip," and other 
 poems, by Dr. BVIIeiiry. If the eagle, hovering over Mount Parnassuf, 
 " suffers little birds to sing" his praises, the fault can not be attributed to 
 the " bird of Jove," if they should breathe to him no sweeter minstrelsey 
 than that of my modest muse (transformed into a " mockingbird,") resting 
 on the bough of a little tree, trembling like an aspen leaf in autumn, and 
 overlooking the chilled, yet bright waters of an " American Lake." 
 
 Thou, who in strains so glowing sweet and free, 
 
 Hast sung the pov^'er of friendship o'er the mind, 
 Accept the humble wreath I weave for thee, 
 
 Though brighter garlands far thy temples bind. 
 Can such as feel they have a bosom friend, 
 
 Muse on thy song then throw it idly by 1 
 Nay, each soft strain must with their feelings blend, 
 
 As rainbow tints are mingled with the sky. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. *i7 
 
 Pure as the spirit that inspires thy song, . 
 
 Bright as the laurels on thy brow that shine, 
 Thy fame shall flourish verdantly and long, 
 
 And friendship kneel a pilgrim at thy shrine. 
 Thou hast to her a glorious tribute paid ; 
 
 (Streams murmur music as their bright wave- i-m!) ^ 
 And reared a trophy that shall never fade, 
 
 While generous throbs inspire the human soul. 
 
 Amidst the silence of the sylvan grove, 
 
 Oh ! let me oil enjoy an hour like this. 
 And worshipping the radiant " Star of Love,'* 
 
 Bless that bright emblem of enduring blis&-. 
 And may we from the graver strains of " Age,"'^ 
 
 Feel the solt influence hoary years can lend ; 
 Or view each virtue on her portrait page, 
 
 That marks the lover, patriot, or the friend ! 
 
 " THE HEART IS DECEITFUL ADOVE ALL THINGS, AND DESPE- 
 RATELY WICKED." 
 
 How oft we fix our thoughts on high, 
 
 And feci there is no real bliss, 
 Save that which dwells beyond the sky, 
 
 Above a guilty world like this ! 
 
 ' ' Other poems contained in that vohime. 
 10 
 
98 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Earth's vanities we deem so poor, 
 So mean and abject here below, 
 
 Its happiness so insecure, 
 That bliss supreme we long to know. 
 
 Then had the spirit wings to fly, 
 
 And leave its prison house of clay — 
 The darkness here — 'twould soar on high, 
 
 And seek those realms of endless day. 
 The soul, when lifted up above 
 
 Life's guilty joys — when here oppressed 
 With heavy burdens — like a dove 
 
 Would " fly away and be at rest." 
 
 Such are the moments when we see 
 
 How false the joys this world can give; 
 We pant for immortality, 
 
 And long to die, that we may live ; 
 Where pure immortal spirits reign 
 
 Beyond this life of nature, where, 
 Nor sin, nor sorrow, grief or pain, 
 
 Can ever find admittance there. 
 
 If we have faith but to beUevc, 
 
 Have hope and can on hope rely ; 
 Would falsehood then its poison breathe, 
 
 That " pleasures are not born to die !" 
 Can this world's sordid joys alone, 
 
 Which pass like fading flowers away, 
 O'ercome those truths so mighty grown ; 
 
 Can these so weak lead those astray 1 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 99 
 
 Oh ! if there is a substance there, 
 
 If here its shadowy image be, 
 Then why do we so vainly dare 
 
 To grasp the nothingness we see ! 
 Because the heart is full of sin, 
 
 C>f wickedness and vain deceit ; 
 Because the tempter lurks within, 
 
 The soul's destruction to complete, 
 
 Alas ! to sin and death is given, 
 
 A power that may subdue below; 
 But faith can give us strength from heaven, 
 
 To lay the fell destroyers low. 
 Then let us turn our thoughts on high, 
 
 Above a guilty world like this, 
 Renounce those pleasures born to die, 
 
 And hope for that immortal bliss. 
 
 THE BIRTH OF LIGHT 
 
 A FRAGMENT. 
 
 No further penetrate, nor vainly dare 
 
 To grope through darkness for a hidden light 
 That shines before God's holy altars, where 
 
 T will be revealed: — but now, since fancy bright 
 Is on the wing, and darkness veils the earth, 
 Say, where was light before creation's birth! 
 
10() MISCELLANEOUS POEMS, 
 
 'Twas universal darkness and the noon 
 Of midnight's reign — then in existence sprung 
 
 Creation's vast all mighty work, and soon 
 
 " The earth self-balanced on her centre hung ;" 
 
 Whirled on its axis ere the etherial race, 
 
 Then darted through immensity of space. 
 
 Eternal wisdom then and power divine, 
 
 Bade the whole mighty mass of matter move 
 
 In itt- vast circuit, and the wheels of lime 
 Were set in motion by his sovereign love : 
 
 One revolution finished at his nod, 
 
 And all was perfect in the sight of God. 
 
 Chaos, thus pregnant with his word, gave birth 
 To Nature, and obeyed th' almighty will ; 
 
 Supremacy alone beheld the earth 
 Swell into matter, and at once fulfil 
 
 The mandate as it issued from the sky. 
 
 From him whose throne eternal is on high ! 
 
 Nor was th' almighty project then confined, 
 
 To the creation of this orb alone ! 
 Ten thousand times ten thousand did the mind 
 
 Of Deity suggest from heaven's high throne : 
 All run their course in darkness — darkness still 
 Concealed the unfinished work — obeyed his will 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 101 
 
 ••' God said, let there be light," and then the light 
 Rushed forth from heaven, and to the centre sprang, 
 
 Of the whole system ! thus dissolved the night — 
 The reign of darkness ceased — of light began ! 
 
 Yon glorious sun is his all-seeing eye — 
 
 The centre of one system, in the sky. 
 
 Thus Light spread forth a universal blaze — 
 Unnumbered worlds at once illumined through ; 
 
 Gave light to other suns, which lent their rays 
 To other systems. — Mortal, can'st thou view, 
 
 And say (oh! 'tis unspeakable,) how bright 
 
 Is that pure fountain of Eternal Light! 
 
 ENIGMA. 
 
 When Time commenced his endless reign on earth, 
 Ere man existed and the world was known, 
 
 The great Creator who gave all things birth, 
 Th' almighty source of all knows jne alone. 
 
 Yet men would oft unmask it to mankind ; 
 
 Have dared to think with mortal eyes they saw 
 This seeming father and yet heir of time ! 
 
 The secrets of the tomb shall teach them more. 
 
 They every hour in their thoughts encroach, 
 (But vainly so) on what relates to me ; 
 
 And millions every moment would approach, 
 Yet shrink back should I lisp their destiny ! 
 10* 
 
102 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Thousands would gladly banish from their breasts, 
 The thought of me which wounds their peace of mind 
 
 And guilty conscience prompts some to confess. 
 What I shall otherwise divulge — their crime? 
 
 To man below I yield no happiness, 
 
 Inliict no pangs, nor cause them misery; 
 
 Yet they look up to me for heavenly bliss; 
 Not those on earth who dread the grave and me. 
 
 Although 't is thus obscured — it is a light, 
 
 That some would wish for if they dared to see — 
 
 But mortal vision could not bear the sight, 
 Tliat would unveil to them FUTURITY 
 
 STANZAS 
 
 INSCRIBED TO MY SISTER, MISS ADELINE AUGl'STA, O) 
 BOSTON. 
 
 Fair Boston! when thy Charles and Mystic's rolling waves 
 
 of light, 
 Shall cease to ebb and flow through scenes so picturesque 
 
 and bright ; 
 And when thy hills no longer rest upon their kindred earth. 
 Shall I forget my native land, the city of my birth. 
 
MISCELLANEOCS POEMS. 103 
 
 Relentless fate, ah I why was I an exile doomed to roam, 
 To sigh so soon a long adieu and bid farewell to home ; 
 Dear visions of departed years that swell my throbbing heart. 
 Still hnger on my mind mitil its spirit shall depart. 
 
 Whilst heaven's bright drapery is hung suspended in the 
 
 skies. 
 O'er yon fair city of my birth whose lofty towers rise, 
 And whilst the vital flame of Ufo shall warm this aching 
 
 breast, 
 My memory shall paint some scenes, and fancy sketch the 
 
 rest. 
 
 Upon the banks of gentle Charles, whose saline waters flow 
 Through Brighton's rural scenes, and shine along the course 
 
 they go ; 
 The mansion of my youth remains, and there a mother's love 
 Once cherished me, until she sought those blissful realms 
 
 nliovt. 
 
 And consecrated is the spot where freedom's banner waves," 
 O'er friends, departed kindred there, who slumber in their 
 
 graves : 
 Defend from sacrilege those walls, and guard the silent toml*- 
 Of her who slumbers in its vaults and met an early doom 
 
 As twilight shades, when days departing glories snik to rest, 
 Steal softly o'er the earth, grief throws her mantle o'er my 
 
 breast ; 
 The sun will sink to rise agani and twilight will depart : 
 Not so the star of hope that sets forever in the heart. 
 
 'Tiir ArmoLiry, in the iinmeJiaic vicinity of the cemetery 
 
104' MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Yet memory ! thou spirit of the past, to Ihee I owe 
 The mournful pleasure that I feel — this luxury of woe ; 
 And but for thee, my native home, departed friends, the 
 
 dead — 
 Had vanished from my mind, and youth's bright visions too 
 
 had fled. 
 
 Fair Boston but to lisp thy name, what proud emotions swell 
 My breast ! yet destiny decreed at home I should not dwell : 
 Pride bade me leave thy ocean-cinctured shores ; and now I 
 
 view, 
 Through fancy's telescope, the scenes to which I 've bid adieu. 
 
 Yet pride more laudable and just may cheer an exile's heart, 
 To know tiiat thou art rearing up thy monuments of art ; 
 Thy temples to the Uving God ; to science, and to truth ; 
 That education sheds the light of learning on thy youth. 
 
 Long may thy sons be taught to know the value of their 
 sires ; 
 
 May Freedom's smile still warm those hearts which patriot- 
 ism fires; 
 
 And may her smile a halo shed, of light, around the world, 
 
 'Till Freedom's star shall set where first her banners were 
 \uifurled. 
 
 August 21, 1829. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 105 
 
 POETICAL RECEIPTS. 
 
 Together mingle two white lies, 
 
 And torture truth upon the rack ; 
 Burn "blue Ughts" for the sacrifice, 
 
 And two white lies will make one black. 
 
 TO MAKE LOVE. 
 
 Look — do not speak a word at first, 
 
 Then try once more in vain to speak, 
 And then speak out, if speak you must. 
 
 All you had thought of for a week. 
 
 Go stammer forth a cold farewell. 
 Return and you '11 grow warm again ; 
 
 What courage had no tongue to tell 
 
 Before, you '11 sigh for now — what then 1 
 
 You '11 leave a lover's warm adieu — 
 
 A coldness in the lady's heart — 
 Your glove with her — and she with you 
 
 A strange reluctance thus to part. 
 
 In case you should return once more, 
 Take courage — she '11 return your glove. 
 
 And leave it with you at the door, 
 And you will leave her heart with love. 
 
 She '11 dream of you that very night: — 
 
 Next morning if her Pa 's away. 
 And her Mamma is out of sight, 
 
 You 'II say what thrice you meant to say. 
 
106 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Ah ! then eitifair advantage take. 
 And if her lily hand you press, 
 
 Love 's blind, but if you're " wide awake," 
 She 's more in love, and you no less. 
 
 TO MAKE A TURK. 
 
 Buy and sell — rice versa — sell 
 
 And buy, and set your wits to work ; 
 Shave notes — make compound interest tell, 
 
 Who makes most money, Jew or Turk ? 
 If Jew ! learn liow his money 's made, 
 
 TJien if a christian, turn a Jew ; 
 If Turk ! by Turkish gold be swayed, 
 
 And money '11 make a Turk of you. 
 
 "THE OUTS," VERSUS THE INS. 
 
 [This political sqjiib was intended, and particularly its local allusions, 
 for the meridian of Philadelphia ; but will answer, during election times, 
 for other cities, as well as villages where are located a " town hall," and 
 two or more rival or opposition papers ; as well as individuals who contend 
 for the honours and emoluments of office.] 
 
 We having been thrust out, are quite outraged, 
 
 Out-done, out-witted, out of time and season ; 
 We 're out of spirits just like birds incaged, 
 
 And out upon the in's to know the reason. 
 We made a fence outside the state house doors, 
 
 And will defend it when we get inside them ; 
 We 're out of office; " on the fence" we pause — 
 
 Out of our latitude we were beside them. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 107 
 
 We 're out of " salaries" but not of cash, 
 
 Therefore we must be "in for it," it follows; 
 Not out of fashion, for we make a dash 
 
 And charge the councils with " two thousand dollars." 
 We 're out of them, though we were " ousted'"' out, 
 
 And should they oust us in, that would be funny ; 
 But ." honour bright" is all wc want, no doubt, 
 
 Though we 're the people's men, for the people's money. 
 
 You 're in for luck wc fear, for good and all, 
 
 Inside the railings, not in our good graces ; 
 In duty's path ; do from your horses fall. 
 
 That with them we may win for you the races. 
 You 're in the way, alas, of keeping in, 
 
 And keeping out us democratic sinners ; 
 Our letters patent made us for to sin — 
 
 We bet and lost — the people are the winliers. 
 
 You 're in, inside incUned to stay : in vain 
 
 Intrigue, invention, innocence hkc ours, 
 In thought — (indeed !) in short, we are in pain. 
 
 And in despair, in sunshine and in showers. 
 We 're out, out-right, and out of patience too, 
 
 Out done (" done up") and will be soon " done over ;'' 
 We want to get in and to put out you, 
 
 And mean, says Pat, to " do that thing" moreover, 
 
 Philad. Sept. 12, 1833. 
 
108 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 "NOW REST THEE HERE MY GONDOLIER. 
 
 Stay — stay thy speed my pleasure boat, 
 
 Hush — hush thy sliivering sails ; 
 Beside this gentle bank here float, 
 
 Annoyed by no rude gales. 
 
 Love's pilot, play thy lute wliilst I 
 
 Go seek yon cottage light ; 
 Its gUmmcring rays my eyes descry, 
 
 My heart beats with delight. 
 
 Soft, soft, hope's anchor holds thee fast, 
 
 I go — sport here the while ; 
 I haste to dreaming love's repast, 
 
 To greet his rosy smile. 
 
 " Oh ! did we seek for happiness 
 
 In heaven above, as we 
 Here seek for woman's love, what bliss 
 
 The future state* would be,"t 
 
 TRANSMIGRATION. 
 
 Methinks, since all men have their creeds, 
 That I too have a right to mine : 
 
 I question not their faith or deeds. 
 Nor reader, interfere with thine, 
 
 * Marriage state the fair reader may substitute if it pleases her. 
 t Moore, mutilated. 
 
MISCELLANEODS POEMS, 109 
 
 If thou wilt meddle not with me, 
 
 And prithee let my creed alone ; 
 We'll both agree to disagree, 
 
 And leave it to the see of Rome. 
 
 My mind is in a conflagration, 
 
 When vice leaves virtue in despair: 
 The former is by transmigration, 
 
 A very demon lurking there. 
 
 Our ancient faith is full of dreams, 
 
 Still we believe when sailors die, 
 They all turn into "horse marines," 
 
 And horse marines to smaller fry. 
 
 That wicked lawyers will, no doubt, 
 
 Assume some "questionable shape," 
 And turn to something inside out. 
 
 And get themselves into a scrape. 
 
 Ciuacks who with pills and powders kill. 
 
 The soldier who in battle falls. 
 Beside the dancing master, will 
 
 From j)owder turn to •' fancy balhy 
 
 Rogues, thieves, will turn to rats and mice, 
 
 And drunkards— so it is presumed — 
 Will turn from frozen water (ice) 
 
 To spirits, not to be consumed. 
 11 
 
110 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 The bucks who chase their pretty dears, 
 Will turn to ven'son and hate dogs ; 
 
 When coxcombs all wear asses' ears. 
 Fat aldermen will turn to hogs. 
 
 Tailors then will chase the geese, 
 And turbaned Turks the turkeys then ; 
 
 Zounds ! all the Greeks will turn to grease. 
 Ere Russia can deliver them. 
 
 Those dreadful pirates, and all such men, 
 When they become transmogrified! 
 
 Will all turn into " flying dutchmen," — 
 Steam — and stem the wind and tide. 
 
 Though man his future lot bewails, 
 Sweet ladies, calm your anxious fears, 
 
 You — some of you '11 turn nightingales, 
 And sing the music of the spheres. 
 
 Whene'er the poet's spirit flies, 
 And would-be poets wing their flight : 
 
 If ever thus they reach the skies, 
 Or swim there through a flood of light, 
 
 They '11 turn to moonshine — silver streams- 
 (But not to making books) — oh, la ! 
 
 To solar rays and silver beams, 
 And skip about from star to star. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. Ill 
 
 BEAUTY AT THE ALTAR. 
 
 The bright winged zephyrs, dancing round us now, 
 Are fiibled forms, and fancy gives them wings ; 
 
 Their gentle breathings fan the fevered brow. 
 And, when they sweep the lyre, some angel sings. 
 
 The harp iEolian doth enchant me now — 
 Light fingered music 's sporting wdth the strings. 
 
 My thoughts arc roving to the house of prayer, 
 
 And first 1 saw thy guileless beauty there. 
 
 No word, no whisper passed thy h^is to me, 
 For then thy thoughts held converse with the sky ; 
 
 Nor did thy spirit's brighter mirrors see 
 The soul-illumincd glances of the eye. 
 
 That fell upon thy form, too near to me, 
 For me to be with sainted hope on high. 
 
 Yet if I gazed at one so young and fair. 
 
 Oh, " Holy Virgin !" thou wast with her there 
 
 Who dare the temple of his God profane, 
 And bow before religion's holy shrine ; 
 
 Dare soil his spirit's purity, and stain 
 With blot, the consecrated walls divine : 
 
 Leave, sacrilegious wretch, the holy fane. 
 Or stay and wash away the guilt, if thine. 
 
 When youth and beauty at the altar kneels 
 
 Behold the charms which innocence reveal. 
 
112 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 TO ANONYMOUS "PETER." 
 
 Aye, sir, I read thy lines on " Charity," 
 
 And think thy best of feelings have decoyed 
 
 Thee or thy muse " into self-sacrifice," 
 
 And that thy very words belie thy heart ; 
 
 Therefore, 1 '11 make thee out a hypocrite. 
 
 Nay, start not, " Peter," — patience, hear me through. 
 
 Hypocrisy tTiou hast been guilty of, 
 
 And if thou hast not played a double part. 
 
 May I be played upon like Hamlet's pipe — 
 
 Be made to eat the bread of charity, 
 
 Drink ardent spirits, and then cat my words. 
 
 A " squaUd beggar," doubtless came to thee, 
 And held before thy eyes a naked child, 
 Which then (" my eyes !" allow my muse to guess) 
 Distilled some due drops from the fountain head, 
 Which is the heart, whence gentle pity flows. 
 Although thou wouldst not tell the world of that, 
 Methinks thou gavcst not that cold advice, 
 Which some men lavish when they give, unasked, 
 But gave to her thy gold, which was to thee 
 The same as dross, compared with blessed tears 
 That she bestowed upon thee in return. 
 
 Thy "charity" — thy charitable lines, 
 Were goose-quill arrows dipped in good black ink. 
 And should they strike like venom to the heart, 
 Even charity would suck the poison out. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 This is a selfish world, beyond a doubt, 
 And those whose hearts abound with it the most, 
 Should have a plaster placed upon the breast. 
 To draw the evil out — Do, Peter ! do 
 Make one of satire, not of Spanish Jiies. 
 
 113 
 
 EXTRACTS 
 
 FRUM A MS. POEM, ENTITLED, " THE VISION' OF WAR."' 
 
 ♦ > ♦. * 
 
 And lo ! the whirlwinds, tempest-winged, are there 
 Havock, confusion's uproar 'raongst the waves, 
 Defeat the deep laid schemes of mortal man — 
 Of the proud admirals, though well contrived 
 
 The affrighted navies rushing from the coasts, 
 Seek sure destruction farther from the land : 
 Tiic stormy elements are now their foes, 
 That still pursue those ships that have not sunk: — 
 They separate, thus scattered by the winds. 
 Some rush upon the rocks and are destroyed ; 
 Some founder on the banks, and some are borne 
 Against the shoals, the rocky cliffs and shores. 
 Then come in contact with each other's wrecks.. 
 The hulls, masts, spars, and fragments of them all. 
 With linng forms thereon, are tossed about, 
 Till scattered thus, they sink and disappear. 
 
114 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS, 
 
 There mangled bodies float, and living men 
 Prolonging life so short, so near its close, 
 " Buffet the billows" foaming o'er their grave- 
 Swim to its portals, sink and rise no more : 
 Thus sure destruction was the fate of all. 
 
 But let me to the earth return my thoughts, 
 Which is the false foundation for the base 
 Of Hope to rest upon that leans thereon. 
 And knows no other sphere of happiness 
 That can insure eternal bliss on high, 
 Above this stormy world of guilt and woe. 
 
 Ambition's hopes though eagle-winged, may soar 
 High in the estimation of mankind ; 
 Yet sink before they reach the pinnacle 
 Of human glory here, or land upon 
 Its ever distant and perspective shores. 
 Away with visions of immortal fame, 
 If honour builds her sepulchres for man, 
 Upon some island washed by seas of blood, 
 If he must swell the tide ere he can rest 
 On glory's sea-encompassed throne at last. 
 From deep oblivion's grave let " honest fame," 
 Lost to the world, forgotten by mankind, 
 Soar up to heaven and be remembered there, 
 Beyond the contests of this mortal life. 
 What are the laurels on a victor's crown ! 
 Death twines the cypress wreathe around his brow, 
 When in the grave : there, or in ocean's tomb. 
 His dreams of future glory shall have passed, 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 115 
 
 E'en like the armada's of the seas away ; 
 Where mighty navies leave no wreck behind 
 Of all the glory buried in the deep, 
 That heaven and liberty had overthrown. 
 Ambitious despot ! such be thy reward. 
 
 Now on my dream again of earthly strife 
 I muse, the sanguine subject of my song. 
 When all those glittering arms of yonder hosts 
 Shall cross each other, clashing in the fray ; 
 When front to front, and line to line opposed, 
 And flank to flank the warriors are engaged, 
 I'll sketch the spectre horrors of the scene. 
 
 Even now before me I behold 
 With vision more distinct, the extended plains 
 Covered with steel clad men in armour bright — 
 
 Hark ! mcthinks I hear a rumbUng sound, 
 Like distant thunder, in the echoing skies; 
 Or like an earthquake voice at niidnigiit hour, 
 When the deep bosom of the earth sends forth 
 A long protracted, fcar-forbo<ling groan ; 
 Or '• hke the sound of many waters," heard 
 Ujwn the tempest -stricken, raging seas, 
 Far distant from the shore, burst on my ears ! 
 The sound proceeds from the approaching hosts — 
 A mighty mass of the advancing troops — 
 The tramp of horses and the heavy tread 
 Of many feet, of millions not a few ; 
 
116 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 And the earth groans o'erburdened with its weight. 
 The pioneers, an army of themselves, 
 Approach, and now the trumpet's voice I hear 
 Proclaim these heralds of those armies nigh : 
 And echo, from the vallies and the hills, 
 Repeats the shrill and martial notes of war, 
 And 
 
 THE PATRIOT PRESIDENT, 
 
 "that is to be." 
 
 There is no Hercules of modern times 
 To take a model from, to form the man, 
 Whose vast gigantic stature, and whose strength 
 And prowess lie but in his mighty arm ; 
 That hath the power to grasp a meaner thing, 
 (Comparing thus this body's size with that— 
 Though he may mentally be twice as strong, 
 Whose body's stature only measures less,) 
 And bear him up yon cliff of rugged rocks, 
 And dash him headlong in the boiUng sea: 
 Yet Hercules we 'd have, one that the world, 
 At least our country, proudly looked upon. 
 And scanned the beauty of his moral strength. 
 And fair proportions of his mighty mind. 
 
 Kind heaven! then send another Washington, 
 That all who love their country may behold 
 His lofty bearing ; dignity and grace 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 117 
 
 So well combined together, that his brow 
 
 May shine forth all the lustre of the heart, 
 
 And seem to be the seal that marks liim as 
 
 An image worthy of his country's love. 
 
 And him the people would delight to give 
 
 Those honours to, which they themselves would share — 
 
 Nor would they pluck the wreath from off his brow, 
 
 Whose merit won the laurel meed of fame . 
 
 My fancy views him now — his very step, 
 
 Majestic, shows the majesty of man. 
 
 He walks with unaffected ease the earth, 
 
 And seems unconscious that he is the chief 
 
 Over the happy land that gave him birth. 
 
 He is a guardian of the rights of man, 
 
 Yet feels responsible to heaven alone. 
 
 Oft in his closet, though in pubhc life, 
 
 His spirit sighs for soft domestic peace. 
 
 Yet bears the heavy burdens of the state. 
 
 Intrigue, officious arrogance, and pride 
 
 That on the stepping stones of office sit, 
 
 And sigh for a pre-eminence like his. 
 
 Dare not e'en whisjjcr what they most desire, 
 
 And still less dare to bribe his confidence. 
 
 Nor are his favours or his smiles withheld 
 
 From humble merit in more humble life. 
 
 That doth the wealth of moral worth possess, 
 
 With requisites that fit them for the state. 
 
 His courteous charity sees far and near. 
 
 In some, some merit, and in others more: 
 
118 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Those he selects are for the pubUc good ; 
 
 And thus his country's friends he makes his own. 
 
 My fancy now assumes the eagle's shape, 
 And hovers o'er my mind with outspread wings, 
 'Neath the bright sun of liberty's birth-day !* 
 She broods in silence o'er my secret thoughts, 
 That, half conceived, shall have some form or shape, 
 Whilst musing in the shadow of her wings. 
 Heaven's hght rests on her, and the "bird of Jove'' 
 Beholds her shadowy image on my breast, 
 The emblem of our heaven-born liberty. 
 I '11 cherish thus the offspring of the heart. 
 And love the mother bird that gave it birth. 
 Whore hies the eagle now 1 Her shadowy form 
 Rests on my bosom yet. Away, proud bird ! 
 And on the centre of yon lofty dome. 
 Which rises o'er th' assembled congress of 
 The States, united for the general weal, 
 Protect our congress and our country too. 
 And guard their head: — Inspire the chieftain's heart 
 With patriotic zeal, that he may catch 
 Its fire from the lightning of thine eyes. 
 To warm the hearts of all with hopes Uke his, 
 That burn before fair freedom's altars here, 
 And glow but for the welfare of mankind. 
 
 *July4ih, 1832, 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS, 119 
 
 Now Fancy, who creates what forms she will, 
 Doth shape a man with body and with mind, 
 That each may seem each other's counterpart, 
 In thought and beauty, dignity and grace: 
 And the frail deity who now presides 
 O'er human reason in her sober mood, 
 And o'er the humblest of the muse's throng, 
 Doth place the man beneath the eagle's wings, 
 And calls him Atticus ; a name that may 
 Well fit the man that fits his station well. 
 
 Without a glittering crown upon his head, 
 Or golden sceptre grasped in his right hand, 
 Like that yon Russian autocrat now holds, 
 To fright his subjects with, whose magic power 
 Doth awe the vassals of his sovereign will. 
 Our great republic crowns him " President." 
 No awful pomp or pageantry of state 
 Surrounds him, seated on the yeuplc's throne. 
 Their sovereign voice proclaims his high deserts. 
 And he obeys, that they may be obeyed. 
 Their will, transferred to him, through him shall rule 
 The nation's destinies : (if but tiie aid 
 Of that Almighty Power that governs all, 
 Supports, upholds us in the hour of need, 
 When nations place their trust in heaven alone, 
 And fear, too late, their niis[)laced confidence 
 In such a vile and worthless thing as man. 
 " Clothed in a little brief authority," 
 That man is blinded by official pride, 
 Who will not see how great his errors are.) 
 
120 MISCELLANEODS POEMS. 
 
 *T is well, — digression only serves to show 
 
 How great the contrast is between what is 
 
 And what we hope for yet, — which yet may be. 
 
 Behold " the President" that is to be. 
 
 High o'er his head the scales of Justice hang, 
 
 Suspended from the towering eagle's beak, 
 
 Well balanced by the blindfold goddess there, 
 
 Who sees impartially 'twixt right and wrong. 
 
 Behold ! it is a glorious sight indeed ! 
 
 His single birthright, liberty and power. 
 
 Is in one scale, and wisdom seals the weight. 
 
 Our country's rights, the aggregate of all, 
 
 Weigh what they should, and neither more nor less 
 
 The people place them in the other scale. 
 
 And 't is the counterbalance weight which makes 
 
 The even beam. The " Constitution" stamped 
 
 Its seal upon it, ever to remain. 
 
 Before his God and Country he hath sworn, 
 He will not put his power into the one 
 Which is not his ; nor from the people take 
 " One jot or tittle" more than they bestowed. 
 Or add the heaviness of fraud thereto. 
 Lest blindfold Justice should detect the cheat, 
 And blushing ope her jealous eyes and see 
 The other "quick fly up and kick the beam." 
 Her curse upon his head would then descend ; 
 And thus the rights of one, that one the chief, 
 Against the millions in the scales are weighed; 
 Yet he, the one, forms but a part of all 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 121 
 
 That share his power, jointly with their own. 
 If in the eagle's beak are firmly grasped 
 The scales of Justice, in her talons too, 
 She holds avenging weapons, to be hurled 
 Even at the people's head, (if on his heart 
 Is not engraved the motto of a king) 
 If he should dare defy their sovereign power. 
 
 STANZAS, 
 
 II.I.LSTRATING DY VISIBLE OR OUTWARD EVIDEN'CE THE EX- 
 ISTENXE OV fllK SOUL WITHIN. 
 
 Even as yon peerless queen of night 
 
 Borrows her glory from the sun, 
 Which is great nature's source of light, 
 
 Ordained by the Eternal One; 
 Even so that spirit light, the soul, 
 
 Doth lend its lustre to the eye; 
 Man's system is one perfect whole. 
 
 Whose sun-like centre can not die. 
 
 Lo ! o'er that cheek now glows the gush 
 Of feelings which the heart must own; 
 
 Resentment kindles there the blush, 
 That spreads from passion's burning throne : 
 12 
 
122 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 If sanctified the soul, the fire 
 Etherial glows: if not, without 
 
 Thus spreads the red flame of desire, 
 Soon lighted and as soon goes out. 
 
 Round the heart's altars ever burn 
 
 ReUgion's lamp, and ever shine. 
 Filled with pure oil, sweet virtue's urn. 
 
 That both may beam forth rays divine : 
 Then may each outward feature be 
 
 The counterpart, that shall reveal 
 The bosom's brightness, whilst we see 
 
 The bliss expressed that others feel. 
 
 The eye of pleasure beams more bright, 
 
 That borrows from the soul its rays ; 
 From joy's pure fountain, where the light 
 
 Of mind round new-born rapture plays. 
 Dare self-accusing conscience meet 
 
 The eye of justice, face to face! 
 The soul, the soul shrinks from deceit, 
 
 Whose shame reveals its own disgrace. 
 
 The eye's bright language speaks the truth : 
 
 Alas! is reason yet so bUnd, 
 Man can not/ee/, in age or youth, 
 
 Though lost his sight, the fight of mind ! 
 Or if thy eye's plucked out, or dim. 
 
 Can not thy spirit in thee, see 
 Light burst through darkness, and from him, 
 
 The source from whence it sprang to thee' 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 1'23 
 
 Hath man the "human face divine 1" 
 
 Still may what proof we have be given, 
 If but the light of truth will shine, 
 
 Unclouded, from its native heaven. 
 Profaner of thy God ! he '11 hush 
 
 Thy voice — art thou not breathing lies 7 
 Aye, truly; even thou canst blush — 
 
 Truth strikes — thy 'coward falsehood dies. 
 
 Lo ! yon fair maiden, on whose cheek 
 
 Youth's budding lily blooms to-day; 
 Whose tongue those guileless hopes bespeak, , 
 
 Which hke her charms shall fade away; 
 Sweet virtue in her snow-white breast, 
 
 Has taken refuge for repose ; 
 A villain's look hath pierced her breast, 
 
 And now its crimson mantle glows. 
 
 Hence monster — feelings pure and young, 
 
 Dove-like still nestle in her heart ; 
 Hope's syren song to her is sung, 
 
 And love its purest joys impart. 
 Her soul, though conscious of the bhss 
 
 Hope's sporting with, would yet conceal 
 The cherished passion still, yet this 
 
 Deep secret doth that blush reveal. 
 
 Behold that wretched man, whose face 
 
 With soul-destroying poison burns; 
 He hath a secret too — 1 '11 trace 
 
 The cause why he with horror turns 
 
124 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 From that, perhaps the guilty spot 
 
 Of blood and murder : back he flies, 
 Turns pale as death — the soul, is 't not, 
 
 Signs his death-warrant as he dies !* 
 
 Oh, God of nature ! power above ! 
 
 We bless thee that our spirits feel. 
 The force of truth wliich but 'thy love. 
 
 Dost gently to our hearts reveal. 
 Know, you profane, though guilt and sin 
 
 Rejects that which it will not see ; 
 He made thy spirit pure within, 
 
 But its corruption springs from thee. 
 
 When on the parents of our race, 
 
 Almighty mind first set his seal, 
 (Not on the outward form or face 
 
 Alone, the senses that reveal:) 
 Then reason on its lofty throne, 
 
 From God to man did not descend, 
 To test a truth divine, which shone 
 
 Ere darkness with the light did blend. 
 
 Still, conscious guilt, or conscious shame, 
 
 Or vice in any shape, or sin. 
 Doth haunt the soul and spreads the flame 
 
 Without, which burns so bright within. 
 
 ' It is presumed that there is on record, an instance of some wretched 
 criminal that may have been porsued by justice to his very grave; of one 
 who, having been detected, died under the effects of sudden fear, from a 
 conscientious knowledge of guilt, self-condemned. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 1'35 
 
 Think ye, that when the body dies, 
 (But death shall soon resolve the doubt) 
 
 The SOUL burns brighter in the skies. 
 Or that the " vital spark" goes out ! 
 January I, 1834. 
 
 IMPROMPTU, 
 
 Written and submitted during a private convei-sation, a-s an answer to 
 certain questions proposed to the auliior by a lady, then standing on the 
 brink of the grave, and probably, now deceased. 
 
 It can not be — the soul doth shrink 
 
 From thoughts of never ending pain : 
 Shall disembodied spirits sink, 
 
 And never hope to rise again ! 
 Grant that there is a hell below, 
 
 As sure as there's a heaven above ; 
 He would not plunge us there, to know 
 
 No mercy there — for "God is Love." 
 
 Is mental agony that hell 
 
 That disembodied spirits feel? 
 Who bruised (truth's oracles will tell) 
 
 " The serpent's head" — "the woman's heeH" 
 He who " with healing in his wings" 
 
 Brought mercy's token from above. 
 Where — thus the heavenly minstrel sings. 
 
 No darkness veils the God of Love. 
 12* 
 
126 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS, 
 
 From heaven to hell did he descend, 
 
 And from his throne of bliss to earth ; 
 Who interceded as the friend 
 
 Of man, God's image at his birth ! 
 Yes — sin defaced it ; death 's the rod 
 
 Which strikes the mortal from above ; 
 We die to live, to know the God 
 
 Of justice is the God of Love. 
 
 It can not be — we should not speak 
 
 Of an eternity of pain ; 
 Since he, almighty, made us weak, 
 
 The wisest of us, foolish, vain : 
 It is not so : though ere we die 
 
 We he^-e must seek that heaven above ; 
 When purified, shall soar on high. 
 
 The spirit to its God op Love. 
 
 HOPE, LOVE AND FRIENDSHIP. 
 
 A VISION'. 
 
 Oh! all my fond and cherished hopes have Hed, 
 Thought I, and on my couch once more rechned 
 
 My weary lunbs, and pillowed there my head. 
 When care and anguish left my troubled mind. 
 
 I had a vision— (how like truth it seems,) 
 
 And a pure spirit hovered o'er my dreams. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 But, ere I slept, the sunshine of those days, 
 Long since departed, and their brightness too, 
 
 Burst on my mind hke unexpected rays. 
 
 Or sunbeams through a cloud, upon my view ! 
 
 For storms had raged within my troubled breast, 
 
 Which that bright spirit sweetly lulled to rest. 
 
 1 sat upon the summit of a cliil'. 
 
 That overlooked the sun-illumined sea. 
 And saw a beautiful, frail, pleasure skiff, 
 
 Dance o'er the ripple waves, from danger free. 
 The spirit said, "the heavens are bright and fair. 
 Behold yon bark— Hope, Love, and Friendship there." 
 
 1 smiled— serene, unclouded skies I saw, 
 
 And nature's mirror of eternal light : 
 Love set the sails and Friendship grasped the oar, 
 
 Whilst at the helm sat Hope, with eyes as bright 
 As ever opened in a world like this, 
 To see the portals close, of earthly bliss. 
 
 • Behold !" the spirit said. A sable cloud 
 I saw approach, and hover o'er the spot ; 
 
 They struggled— soon its shadow was their shroud. 
 And their fair forms laid in a coral grot. 
 
 Too late I cried, "oh! blessed spirit! save 
 
 Hope, Love and Friendship from an ocean grave!" 
 
 A voice replied—" the billowy wave may form, 
 Exist a moment, and thus cease to be ; 
 
 Hope flies from darkness, sunbeams from the storm, 
 When Love and Friendship 's wrecked upon the sea. 
 
 127 
 
1-2H MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Thus youth and beauty here like roses bloom, 
 And what avails it where they find a tomb. 
 
 " Thy own frail bark is launched — and thou hast spread 
 Its sails — 'tis freighted now, with hopes and fears : 
 
 Thy hopes have all been wrecked — thy friends are dead 
 Life is a troubled sea — a ' vale of tears.' 
 
 Thine, when 'tis gliding to some blissful shore, 
 
 Like that frail skiff, may sink to rise no more." 
 
 Reveal thyself— for earth is not thy sphere, 
 I cried — and heavenly hope stood forth revealed ! 
 
 She answered — " Are those hopes you've cherished here, 
 Not earthly hopes 1 their fate 's forever sealed :" 
 
 Then said, (and pointed at the clouded sky) 
 
 " Seek me in heaven, my dwelling place on high!" 
 
 THE EXILE'S SONG. 
 
 1 love to gaze in solitude upon the evening sky ; 
 At midnight on the moon, when vapours glide so swiftly by ; 
 Upon the countless host of stars, and think that those I love, 
 May at that blessed moment think of me and heaven above. 
 
 Then Fancy, meditating, thinks she sees assembled there, 
 The shadows of departed friends, the spirits of the air ; 
 And that she hears the songs of angels as the seraphs sing, 
 Time swifter than a vapour flies, and life is on the wing. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 129 
 
 I love to hear the zephyr spirits sport among the trees ; 
 To sit beneath the waving grove fanned by the evening breeze; 
 To hold communion there with those from earth forever fled, 
 And listen to the "still small voices" of the silent dead. 
 
 And oh ! to gaze on heaven above, at such an hour as this. 
 Must prompt the soul to hope for an eternity of bliss ; 
 To see the works of God, and thus behold his glory shine, 
 Should thus reflect back on the heart the light of love divine. 
 
 Oh, silence ! sacred solitude ! we greet those peaceful shades. 
 Where no rude revelry or mirth thy calm retreat invades : 
 My soul ! expansive as the light that visitcth my eyes, 
 Swell and embrace angelic hope, descending from the skies. 
 
 TO THE EVENING TWILIGHT. 
 
 Spirit that softly steals the light away, 
 
 When sinks the setting sun beneath yon hill, 
 Yet lingers with the latest glimpse of day, 
 
 As evening, unperceivcd, approaches still : 
 Thou seem'st the harbinger of gentle peace. 
 
 Breathing to busy day a kind farewell ; 
 Thou bid'st the husbandman from labour cease. 
 
 And with contentment in thy shades to dwell : 
 And yet reluctantly thou see'st depart, 
 The light which makes thee doubtful as thou art. 
 
130 MISCELI.ANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Spirit that visitest each lone retreat — 
 
 The shad}-^ grove, at this thy twiUght hour ; 
 Those whom the humble shepherds love to greet, 
 
 Returning home, who feci thy magic power : 
 Thou who inhabitest each quiet spot, 
 
 And breathes through thy domains a spell around 
 The rustic bower or the rural grot, 
 
 And hovers o'er love's consecrated ground — 
 Spirit that softly steals the light away, 
 That throws thy mantle o'er departing day 
 
 Oh ! thou whose dusky wing but half conceals 
 
 The face of nature ere we seek repose ; 
 And who, departing hence, but half reveals 
 
 Thyself— oh, thou ! who such enchantment throws 
 Round every object that each village swain 
 
 So loves to look upon, and holds so dear ! 
 Revisit soon thy sylvan haunts again. 
 
 Since nought accords with my soul's sadness here : 
 A mournful shade like evening twilight now, 
 Spreads soft and silently upon my brow. 
 
 The weary peasant, when his toils are o'er. 
 
 And day's departing glories sink to rest, 
 Shall, sitting at his rural cottage door. 
 
 Hail thy approach, to him a welcome guest. 
 And he shall own that as the setting sun 
 
 Shall be restored to-morrow and shall rise ; 
 So when this dark career of life has run, 
 
 A brighter light shall dawn from brighter skies : 
 The night of death shall soon have passed away, 
 And not till then will shine eternal day. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 131 
 
 FRAGMENT 
 
 OF A " NEW year's ADDRESS." 
 
 Time still is here : — When seas no longer roll ' 
 The ocean's foamy waves from pole to pole ; 
 When spring and summer — autumn, winter, here 
 No longer mark the changes of the year ; 
 When cloud- wreathed mountains, that embrace the skies, 
 Shrink into nought, and vanish from ail eyes, 
 And Etna, bursting from its base, shall spread 
 Flames that shall decompose earth's rocky bed ; 
 When yon bright stars grow dim, that shed their Ught, 
 No sun shall shine by day, no moon by night ; 
 When man and nature tremble at the strife 
 Which threatens then the universe of life. 
 And death's deep darkness o'er this earth shall spread, 
 And graves, wide opened, shall yield up their dead ; 
 Ah ! then, when chaos rules, that reigned before 
 Earth filled its space, then — " Time shall ke* no more." 
 
 TO MY FRIEND "THE DOCTOR." 
 
 (an ANONYMOUS POET IMITATED.) 
 
 " What 's the matter ? — Whij — the matter." 
 
 I 've got the dyspcj»sia — the spleen ; 
 
 I 've got the blue devils — the vapours : 
 Last night I got up in a dream, 
 
 Then dotoii I went cutting up capers. 
 
132 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS, 
 
 This morning I sprung from my bed 
 To the looking-glass, all in a fright ! 
 
 " I 'm thinking I 'm out of my head— 
 I 'm thinking that all is not right." 
 
 Job's patience was nothing to thee,- 
 
 Oh Werter ! when thou had'st thy sorrows : 
 
 I 'm thinking 'tis nothing to me, 
 
 That they had a touch of the horrors. 
 
 My in-come has nearly run out, 
 
 But sundnj small bills have come in ; 
 
 They '11 all be protested no doubt, 
 I 'm bilious — I 'm not worth a pin. 
 
 The doctor protests all my drafts, 
 When 1 draw upon bottles of wine ! 
 
 I 'vc np friends to pay them, he laughs, 
 When I cry " I am on the dechne." 
 
 " I know sir, (said he) that your ci-edit 
 
 Never burdened your shoulders with wealth 
 
 'T were so though he never had said it ; . 
 They are both on a par with my health. 
 
 " Oh doctor ! (said I) say you so 1 
 Then say where the remedy lies ? 
 
 If the prices of s^ocA; fall as low, 
 The stockjobbers never will rise." 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 133 
 
 Who raps at the door sir — who knocks ? 
 
 Duns and bailiffs I mortally hate ! 
 Oh ! that they were all placed in the stocks, 
 
 And I at the head of the state. 
 
 With the " French funds" I 've nothing to do : 
 My head hath been shaved — I talk strange 
 
 I 've got the dyspepsia, 'tis true, 
 And a five dollar bill of exchange. 
 
 Like a broker with that I must part. 
 Though I sell it for medical drugs: 
 
 I 've failed, I have broken my heart ; 
 I am crazy, and so are bed bugs. 
 
 I don't see the papers at all : 
 
 Are all their heads powdered in France? 
 Do the Turks show their heels at a ball 7 
 
 Do the Russian bears fiddle or dance ? 
 
 I am high though my spirits are low ; 
 
 I sigh not for fame, but for cash : 
 I wonder if great " Touch-and-go" 
 
 'Mong the " pinks" of New York cuts a dash ! 
 
 Cupid's shafts, beauty's smile can not wound me, 
 
 The clouds hide the stars in the skies : 
 Spring scatters no roses around me. 
 The ladies no light from their eyes. 
 
 13 
 
134 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 1 'm sick of milk-porridge and rice ; 
 
 At physic I turn up ray nose ; 
 I swallow the doctor's advice, 
 
 Take laud'nura and murder repose. 
 
 Oh doctor — oh doctor ! I faint ! 
 
 ('T'was a thrust from the rooin-attic lance) — 
 1 11 whistle away my complaint, 
 
 To the tune let the blue devils dance. 
 
 -4pn7 26, 1829. 
 
 THE EVIL GENIUS OF THE HARTFORD 
 CONVENTION. 
 
 " TRUTH IS MIGHTY AND SHALL PREVAIL." 
 
 Black calumny had birth in those dark "days 
 That tried men's souls," whose spirits were born free. 
 Since then,. /buZ mouthed, misshapen slander grew 
 Into a monster of gigantic size: 
 And like the prince of darkness hath he here 
 Been " walking to and fro" the wide domains 
 Of freedom's realms : — He cast his shadow o'er 
 The doubtful past, and so obscured the sun 
 Of Liberty, that shone on present times, 
 That man upon its brightness could not look 
 To see the light of truth when shining there — 
 Till Dwight (immortal be his name for this) 
 Scattered the clouds of error from our eyes. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 135 
 
 Ah ! now we see the monster calumny, 
 Begot b)'' falsehood in the arms of hate : 
 Let Patrintism raise his arm and strike, 
 And hurl the giant from his sable throne! 
 Tear out his tongue — his heart that filled his head 
 With lies, but to pollute my country's fame ; 
 The untarnished virtue of her champion sons, 
 Whose names his canker breath dishonour not, 
 And crush him thus. 
 
 He struggles, trampled on the earth, and dies. 
 Oh patriotic virtue, fly his grave. 
 Avoid and shun the loathsome carcass there. 
 
 STANZAS, 
 
 Addressed to a young lady, and sent, accompanied with a tortoise !»iK'U 
 comb, to replace one which was accidentally broken by the writor 
 
 Among the dark-eyed, blue-eyed, bright-eyed girls, 
 Some are brunette, some rosy bright and fair ; 
 
 O'er their white brows are hung, in clustering curls, 
 Jet black, or auburne's golden ringlets there. 
 
 Lest lurking love should pilfer them away, 
 Beauty's imprisoned locks are fettered fast ; 
 
 Give ine one, lady, lest I go astray, 
 
 And break these fetters as I broke the last. 
 
136 MISCELLANEOUS POEKfg, 
 
 Alas ! love has " his labour for his pains"— 
 A thousand sentinels guard beauty's charms ; 
 
 She smiles, and rivets thus the heart with chains — 
 Denies thsd freedom which her power disarms. 
 
 Play thou the gentle tyrant with the heart, 
 Yet be discreet. — One cold look, lady, gives 
 
 Me freely leave to break thy chains apart. 
 
 And bids the passion die, which, Ungering, lives. 
 
 EPILOGUE, 
 
 OR SUBSTANCE OF A "NEW YEAR's ADDRESS." 
 
 Carrier. 
 
 Accept the poet's compliments, and mine ; 
 
 The courteous editor's — the season's thanks; 
 The new year's bounty, and the old year's wine ; 
 
 Dame Fortune's prizes ; and 7io " Treasury Banks." 
 
 Patron. 
 
 I do reciprocate ; when fortune brings 
 Warm weather back again, you need not range 
 
 Carrier. 
 
 Stay, sir — We " Carrier Pigeons" all have wings, 
 And fly away 
 
 Patron. 
 
 But not without your change. 
 
MISCELLAXEOUS POEMS. 
 
 THE MERMAID'S SONG 
 
 TO THE "'HORNET." 
 
 I came from ocean's deepest cave, 
 
 And near the ruins of a wreck, 
 Snatched this sea garland from a grave. 
 
 Whose weeds had overgrown the deck. 
 List — listen to the mermaid's song. 
 
 Though shrill her voice, and wild the note ; 
 The music of the seas belong 
 
 To those that o'er our caverns float. 
 
 The spirit of the storm below, 
 
 Awakened from his ocean bed, 
 And sent his messenger of woe 
 
 To bid the living join the dead. 
 This mirror surface of the sea. 
 
 Whose heavy swelling bosom' s still 
 As death, when mountain waves shall be 
 
 The subject of our Neptune's will. 
 
 Li.st, mariners ! the sea-bird screams, 
 
 The tempest and the whirlwind's nigh ! 
 Now starts, affrighted in his dreams. 
 
 The sailor boy, whose visions fly. 
 Like phantoms from the home of blis.^ 
 
 That sailed on fancy's pinions there. 
 To know that in a world like this, 
 
 Hope's spirit leaves it in despair. 
 
 13* 
 
 13: 
 
138 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Look, mariners ! yon sable cloud 
 
 Is clothed with thunder ! as it forms, 
 Thick darkness gathers like a shroud, 
 
 Suspended o'er a sea of storms. 
 List, panic stricken crew ! and hear 
 
 The peal that ocean's echo brings. 
 That bursts upon the startled ear, 
 
 Whilst desolation spreads her wings. 
 
 The whirlwind 's sporting with my locks — 
 
 I feel the stormy spirit's breath. 
 That kisses on our coral rocks. 
 
 Their mermaid messengers of death. 
 More wildly now my ringlets wave — 
 
 Destruction's hidden shoals are near; 
 Avoid them as thou would 'st the grave. 
 
 As hope would shrink from panic fear. 
 
 I'll leave your crowded ship — farewell; 
 
 I seek my coral groves once more ; 
 The next high mountain waves that swell, 
 
 Shall dash ye on a flinty shore. 
 The Hornet hath my warning heard — 
 
 If fate should plunge her in the deep, 
 The screaming of the wild sea bird, 
 
 Shall ne'er disturb the dreamer's sleep. 
 
 The mermaid sunk — the waves arose, 
 On naked rocks they dashed their foam ; 
 
 That fatal spot 's the grave of those 
 
 Who made the Hornet's deck their home. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 139 
 
 Her gallant crew will rise no more, 
 
 Till wakened from their ocean bed ; 
 She, anchored 'neatli life's bleaky shore, 
 
 Hath joined the navy of the dead. 
 
 THE POLISH LEADER TO HIS FOLLOWERS, 
 
 Behold the Russian tyrant's host, 
 
 Whose army darkens yonder plains ; 
 Our gallant band may scorn the boast 
 
 Of him, whose subjects fight in chains. 
 Slaves of the autocrat! advance, 
 
 And meet us on the battle-field ; 
 Where breast to breast, and lance to lance, 
 
 We'll try the strength of freedom's shield. 
 
 Lo ! like a cloud of darkness comes, 
 
 Those fierce invaders of our land ; 
 Sound, " sound the trumpet, beat the drums," 
 
 And firmer grasp your swords in hand. 
 They know not yet their foe is nigh ; 
 
 Let war's shrill, loudest blast be blown, 
 And lift our country's banner high, 
 
 That Poland's loclcome may be known. 
 
 See, see their long extended lines, 
 
 Halt, panic-struck with base-born fear ; 
 
 'T will dim our glory, which shall shine, 
 When face to face we meet them here. 
 
140 MrsCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 But glory's light shall fade away, 
 Ere it shall sparkle on the crest 
 
 Of those who come in arms to slay 
 Our guardian eagle in her nest. 
 
 Hark! echo brings war's loud alarms, 
 
 "With Russia's thunder on her wings ; 
 Up, injured Poland ! and to arras ! 
 
 And fear none but the king of kings. 
 Ye brave and true ! act well your parts, 
 
 On this eventful day of strife ; 
 And as ye strike them to their hearts, 
 
 Shout, conquest — liberty and life. 
 
 Now for the fray — be quick unfurled 
 
 Each banner sheet — the signal give ; 
 And show proud Russia and the world, 
 
 Beneath whose power on earth we live. 
 The world is gazing at us now, 
 
 Which gives to glory all her charms ; 
 We'll "pluck bright honours" for each brow, 
 
 And live or die in freedom's arms. 
 
 Turn from the min*or bright thy brighter eyes, 
 And see thy image here upon my heart. 
 
 DowningXfille Rambler. 
 
 Oh ! she is like the birds that sing 
 
 Beside some sportive stream, which flows 
 
 Where all the verdure of the spring, 
 And summer's blushing beauty grows. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 141 
 
 With eyes that sparkle and illume 
 Her poUshed brow, so fair and bright, 
 
 Where not a cloud o'erspreads a gloom. 
 Whose shadow would ecUpse their light. 
 
 And pure and guileless is her heart, 
 
 That 's happy in her cottage home ; 
 From that her hopes would never part, 
 
 From that she never sighed to roam. 
 
 Contentment dwells within her cot; 
 
 And never hath assailed her ear, 
 One word that virtue's page would blot, 
 
 That modesty would shrink to hear. 
 
 Her sinless lips were never pressed 
 
 By any save her bosom friends; 
 By all the village girls caressed, 
 
 Her love unenvied makes amends. 
 
 Beneath religion's light, unfurled, 
 Her hopes shrink back from earthly strife ; 
 
 Dove-like, they flutter o'er the world, 
 But rest upon the " tree of Ufe." 
 
 Alas ! perfection dwells not here ; 
 
 She purifies each moral stain — 
 Each human foible with a tear, 
 
 Ere conscious virtue smiles again. 
 
142 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Oh ! could I hie me to her cot, 
 
 To win her ere the " bird has flown;" 
 
 Supremely blessed would be ray lot, 
 To " love her for herself alone." 
 
 STANZAS, 
 
 Occasioned by the exhibition of a beautiful miniature picture of a young 
 lady, by Mr. D. Dickinson, of Philadelphia. 
 
 Oh ! for a pencil that can paint like truth ; 
 
 Art ! canst thou sketch the pictures of my mind ; 
 Beholding this fair counterfeit of youth. 
 
 And bright-eyed beauty, on her couch recUned ! 
 Thou art most blessed, who with soft hues dost blend 
 
 The lily's whiteness with the crimson rose ; 
 And to cold ivory's lifeless surface lend 
 
 Those living blushes, wliich o'er beauty glows. 
 
 I fondly love to dwell upon each grace, 
 
 That smiling, sits enthroned on woman's brow, 
 'Neath which two crimson halos on her face. 
 
 Shed from the soul, play round their dimples now. 
 Fair as mid-day, 'neath yon unclouded skies. 
 
 Is the bright smile her features love to wear ; 
 The living light we see in beauty's eyes, 
 
 Comes from the heart, with all its brightness there. 
 
MISCELLANEODS POEMS. 143 
 
 Art, which can only mimic nature, gives 
 
 Those eyes no soul illumined rays of light, 
 But such expressions penciled there, it lives 
 
 E'en hke those smiles we see in visions bright: 
 To lips, no magic power to speak the words 
 
 Of love, which so delights the listening ear, 
 Or breathe forth music like the warbling birds, 
 
 Those are art's voiceless lips, which can not hear. 
 
 Ah ! thou can'st sketch a form which is thus fair, 
 
 A bosom which enshrines no beating heart ; 
 Hands too, with which the lily may compare, 
 
 Nature's fair copy, though 't is cold as art. 
 Deceive us oft, that we may be beguiled ; 
 
 Paint in true colours those we hold most dear, 
 That father, mother, sister, friend or child, 
 
 When dead, may leave a well known image here. 
 
 Those pictures arc all beautiful — but this 
 
 Is fancy's offspring, for she gave it birth, 
 When to thy slumbers, in a dream of bliss, 
 
 Some angel wandered o'er the sleeping earth ; 
 And bright-eyed genius, gazing at their beams, 
 
 Cried, "sketch that form, but veil tliosc heavenly eyes! 
 'T was but a shadowy image of thy dreams;" 
 
 So fancy's sketch away with fancy flies. 
 
144 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL. 
 
 It must be so, Plato, thibu reason'et well. 
 
 Addison. 
 
 Eternal source of all created things, 
 
 Who sittest on thy starry throne above ! 
 Around whose spheres thy host angelic sings 
 
 Thy wonder-working miracles of love. 
 Thou breathcst on the world which thou hast made. 
 
 That breath of life which animates this clay, 
 As thou hast done on those, alas ! who strayed 
 
 From Eden's blissful scenes, and from thy love away. 
 
 The "vital spark of heavenly flame" hast thou 
 
 Warmed every bosom with, which beats on earth ; 
 It glows within this breast — I feel it now ; 
 
 Yet how mysterious ! when at our birth, 
 Finished and perfect from thy hands we came, 
 
 Then thou didst bid life's crimson current flow 
 Through every throbbing pulse, which in this frame 
 
 Leaps, as the streamlets through their channels go. 
 
 Unerring nature! though no eye can see 
 
 Th' almighty source of all created things. 
 Yet we are conscious that this mystery 
 
 Is known to only thee, the king of kings I 
 "Our being's end and aim" we learn from thee, 
 
 The great first cause which still upholds our youth ! 
 But whence this conscious knowledge ? How should we 
 
 Commune ! consult the oracles of truth. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 145 
 
 Here from the heart an answer may be given — 
 
 Thou who hast formed this body from the earth, 
 Didst breathe m it ethcrial breath from heaven, 
 
 Hast lamiched us into Ufe, and gave us birth ; 
 Dove-Uke thy holy spirit brooded o'er 
 
 The bosom, where its essence was enshrined 
 Within the heart, to live forevermore : 
 
 Truth emanates from thee, that flashes on my mind! 
 
 Pure and untainted as the breath of morn, 
 
 That wafts the summer sweets o'er vale and hills, 
 Clear as the Hght which gilds day's early dawn — 
 
 More pure than chrystal streams and mountain rills, 
 Forth from its holy fount the spirit came, 
 
 Sinless and guileless as a snow-white dove ; 
 Within man's bosom burns a living flame, % 
 
 Beneath the altars of thy throne above. 
 
 From whence 'tis formed, the body to the dust 
 
 Shall sink into corruption in the grave ; 
 Not so the spirit — if its deeds are just. 
 
 It shall return to him on high, who gav^ 
 The blessed boon of origin divine ; 
 
 And to its native realms it shall arise — 
 Burst from its prison house of clay to shine 
 
 Near his eternal throne who dwells above the skies. 
 14 
 
146 MISCELLANEODB POEMS. 
 
 SABBATH THOUGHTS. 
 
 There's a time when the feelings will gush from the breast, 
 Like a bright mountain stream to its blue sea of rest: 
 When the heart with new raptures beats quick with delight, 
 When each lively emotion is tender and bright. 
 'Tis when love is the wild and bewildering theme, 
 And when hope as we slumber sheds light o'er a dream, 
 Like a star which bursts forth in the soft glowing skies, 
 Which a silvery cloud had concealed from our eyes. 
 
 We may gaze on that cloud as a curtain of light, 
 And we know that the prospect beyond it is bright ! 
 Thus in youth when the spirits are buoyant as air. 
 And the past in perspective — the present, is fair ; 
 Through the veil of the future no dark cloud appears, 
 To plunge the bright smile in a fount-ain of tears ; 
 But the young heart beats high with emotions of bliss. 
 And the fair curtained future seems brighter than this. 
 
 There are times when in manhood our feelings will flow, 
 Like the murmuring streams through the valley below : 
 As they glide o'er their smooth pebbled beds to the sea, 
 Flow these sweet sabbath musings serenely from me. 
 And as mournfully now they come forth from the heart. 
 But the tear is suppressed that is ready to start 
 From the eye that looks back on the past, which has down 
 Like the bright hopes of youth — like the joys I have known. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 147 
 
 There 's a time when our locks shall grow silvery white, 
 When our strength shall have failed; and the eye that is 
 
 bright 
 Shall be dimmed ; when we stand upon life's bleaky shore, 
 And review the short journey of life that is o'er. 
 To the wicked, how dreadful death's summons must be, 
 Should no light then illumine a path o'er the sea ! 
 When we plunge in death's billows, if just, we shall rise 
 To the mansions of bliss — to the realms of the skies. 
 
 THE MAIDEN'S DREAM. 
 
 She sleeps — day's last departing beam 
 Yet lingers on the maiden's brow; 
 Midsummer's twilight shadows seem 
 To blend more softly o'er her now. 
 
 How dim his ray 
 
 Whilst doubtful day 
 Throws twilight's mantle o'er her breast ; 
 
 Fond hope departs 
 
 From broken hearts, 
 Whose spirits long to be at rest. 
 
 She sleeps — in robes of virgin white, 
 Pure as the love that is enshrined 
 In her soft bosom — as the light 
 Reflected o'er her spotless mind. 
 Life can not last, 
 When hope is past, 
 
148 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 That faded like her beauty's bloom; 
 
 Though love has fled, 
 
 And hope is dead, 
 She dreams, reposing o'er his tomb. 
 
 She sleeps — beside a murmuring stream — 
 
 Heaven's star-lit canopy 's above ; 
 And chaste as Dian's thought the dream 
 That greets the vision of her love. 
 
 A banner sheet 
 
 Lies at her feet, 
 The staff in broken fragments, where 
 
 Lies, half concealed, 
 
 A sword and shield — 
 Sad rehcs ! fancy left them there. 
 
 A mantled form, that dimly shows 
 
 A youthful warrior's steel-clad breast — 
 A face whose downcast eye she knows, 
 Now beams upon the sleeper's rest : — 
 
 A helmet plumed, 
 
 A gash, that doomed 
 The youth to death, is on his brow — 
 
 What fancy saw 
 
 Is seen no more ; 
 She wakes to real anguish now. 
 
 THE SUBSTANCE AND THE SHADOW. 
 
 The spirit of hope is an angel of light, 
 Whose smile is serene, and whose features are bright, 
 As the clear blue expanse of the soft glowing skies, 
 Where beauty abounds and where mystery lies ; 
 
I 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 149 
 
 Unseen is the spirit when hovering near 
 
 The altars of faith, to reHgion so dear; 
 
 But her presence is felt when her bright wings are spread 
 
 O'er the heart, when its fondest affections are dead. 
 
 The shadow of hope from the scene of our birth, 
 In the dream of our youth wanders over the earth ; 
 And the fair fond deceiver 's a phantom so briglit, 
 When she stands betwixt us and that angel of Ught — 
 The heart she beguiles, when in childhood and youth. 
 We renounce for the shadow, the substance of truth : 
 But when disappointment like a dark cloud appears, 
 The false one has vanished and left us in tears. 
 
 The spirit of hope then returns to impart. 
 
 If attended by faith, promised joys to the heart; 
 
 Like an angel of peace, and with outspreading wings. 
 
 To the fountain she guides us whence happiness springs. 
 
 From the cold world estranged, and from envy and strife. 
 
 She bids us there drink of the waters of life; 
 
 And there, if the light of the gospel abound, 
 
 Can hope shed a halo each bosom around. 
 
 If then and forever hope's shadoxc has fled, 
 Like a dream half remembered — if then we are dead 
 To the sins of the world, hope's promise shall give 
 This blessed assurance — again we shall live! 
 The visions and dreams, and false phantoms of bliss. 
 Which crowd round the mind in a bleak world like this, 
 Shall die in the heart when we " live in the Lord," 
 And the promise of hope shall insure its reward. 
 14* 
 
150 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 TO THE MOUNTAIN STREAM. 
 
 Why, mountain stream, why flow so fast. 
 
 So careless to the deep; 
 Would'st prompt me to forget the past — 
 
 To smile, and not to weep ? 
 
 Would'st thou beguile my heart from woe. 
 
 And calm my anxious fears 1 
 Alas ! thy crystal waters flow. 
 
 And mingle with my tears. 
 
 With thee my thoughts shall glide along 
 
 The sportive course I trace ; 
 And while I chaunt a sylvan song, 
 
 I '11 seek thy resting place. 
 
 But from thy mountain shades why stray — 
 Where, whither dost thou roam 7 
 
 Why flow thus mournfully away, 
 From tliis thy native home 1 
 
 Like mc thy youth is gliding by, 
 (Thy murmurs seem to say): 
 
 Fate's fixed decrees, both thou and I 
 Are destined to obey. 
 
 But hope is still the much loved theme — 
 Thou seem'st more gentle now : 
 
 Less hurried art thou, mountain stream, 
 Unruffled is my brow. 
 
MISCELLANEODS POEMS. l&l 
 
 Flow softly on and where you will, 
 
 That I may follow thee : 
 A heedless running mountain rill 
 
 May show life's destiny. 
 
 Through these dark labyrinths why stray, 
 
 Lo ! danger's lurking nigh! 
 Turn from that precipice away, 
 
 Bright mountain stream, pass by. 
 
 Oh ! may we thus avoid the brink 
 
 Of danger in the world ; 
 There folly ventures but to sink. 
 
 When to destruction hurled. 
 
 Join rivulet, that beauteous stream, 
 
 That strives to meet with thee: 
 Like its diverted course, the dream 
 
 Of early love may be. 
 
 1 hear thy murmurs, flowing rill — 
 
 Why seek yon sylvan grove 1 
 Hope softly whispers to me still, 
 
 That is the vale of love. 
 
 My destiny resembles thine; 
 
 How changed is now thy form ! 
 Life's path hath been thus serpentine, 
 
 Since youth's eventful morn. 
 
153 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Through sylvan groves and veoodlands, thou 
 (A mountain stream no more) — 
 
 Dost flow, and through that valley now, 
 Towards a rocky shore. 
 
 Now, over rugged falls you go, 
 
 And down thy waters rush ; 
 Alas ! I see them foam below — 
 
 The moral makes us blush. 
 
 Fair virtue, straying from her path, 
 
 Runs folly's mad career : 
 If fools at desolation laugh, 
 
 They '11 shrink when danger 's near. 
 
 The storm now agitates thy breast, 
 
 Since thou art mighty grown : 
 Contending currents break thy rest, 
 
 Thy banks are overflown. 
 
 Those fragments (on the storm seas tost) 
 Of wrecks, float o'er the graves 
 
 Of mariners which have been lost, 
 'Neath ocean's foamy waves. 
 
 Roll on, roll on : ah ! now I trace 
 
 Life's progress in thy own : 
 The OCEAN 's thy last dwelling place, 
 
 Eternity 's my home. 
 
LIST OF SUBSCRIBERS.* 
 
 Alexander, Charles 
 Aycrs, S. W. 
 Albright, D. 
 Allen, S. P. 
 Atvvood, James 
 Apple, George 
 Ash, Morgan 
 Ashhurst, J ohn 
 Ash, Thomas T. 
 
 Bmns, John 
 
 Brown, D. P. 
 
 Bcdlock, Win. J. 
 
 Burden, J. R. 
 
 Biddle, N. 
 
 Boy CO, Benjamin 
 
 Baker, James 
 
 Bunting, Thomas C. 
 
 Butler, S. B. 
 
 Bitters, Lorenzo C. 
 
 Bell, James 
 
 Binns, John P. 
 
 Brcady, J. Hall 
 
 Badger, Edmund R. 
 
 Bohlen, Henry 
 
 Badger, William 
 
 Blight, William P. 
 
 Brewster, F. E. 
 
 Brown, Samuel 
 
 Bispham, John R. (5 copies) 
 
 Barnes, Thomas 
 
 Bethell, Robert 
 
 Barker, J.N. 
 
 Barnes, J. C. 
 
 Billington, H. 
 
 Brown, W. 
 Baker, George A. 
 Baker, W. E. 
 Bancker, N, 
 Baldwin, Joseph 
 Brown, P. 
 Barrington, jr. C 
 Brackin, Thomas 
 Bonsai, E. C. 
 Blythe, George 
 Browning, J. F. 
 Bellington, George 
 
 Clay, Hon. Henry 
 Craig, William 
 Carey, Mathew 
 Cooper, J. Fcnimore 
 Chauncey, Charles 
 Crissy, J. 
 
 Coupland, William 
 Chorley, Henry 
 Cook, IBarton 
 Clark, Thomas 
 Cark, Isaac 
 Cards, jr. S. 
 Caldwell, James 
 Cowan, J. Bishop 
 Carswell, M. W. 
 Clark, R. S. 
 Crcighton, Robert 
 Campbell, Thomas 
 Cowperthwaitc, Samuel 
 Clark, Willis Gaylord 
 Churchman, Charles 
 Chanceller, Henry 
 
 ' The author regrets that he can not include in this list those gentlemen's 
 names which yet may be obtained as subscribers, while the pages of his 
 book are undergoing the process of belles lettrcs law, viz. being "bound 
 over" to appear before the great tribunal of public opinion. Such, how- 
 ever, are respectfully alluded to, together with these names, in his 
 preface. 
 
154 
 
 LIST OF SUBSCRIBERS. 
 
 Clayton, William 
 Collins, John 
 Carels, William 
 Cope, John 
 Cook, Joel 
 Clements, Aaron 
 Cox, J. H. 
 Clement, Samuel 
 Clarkson, J. II. 
 Clinton, W. 
 Cook, John 
 Coats, A. W. 
 Caldwell, W. D. 
 Clark, Thomas C. 
 Cowperthwaite, M. 
 Coolidge, William 
 
 D. R. B., Cosmopolitan, (one 
 
 copy) five dollars. 
 Duanc, Jr. William, 
 Darrah, John 
 Davis, D. S. 
 Durans, Enoch 
 Deacon, Robert 
 Drake, A. 
 Duncan, B. 
 Duncan, John 
 Dunn, J. 
 
 Dickinson, Daniel 
 Dobson, Judah, 5 
 Davis, John B. 
 Donncll, Robert 
 Debrec, William T. 
 Dunlcvy, Robert 
 
 Ewing, Edward 
 Elliott, Isaac 
 Eyre, J. Ashmcad 
 Ely, Rev.E. S. 
 
 Foulk, Henr}'^ 
 Fairfield, S. L. 
 Forrest, William 
 Furness, Rev. W. H. 
 
 Ford, John 
 Fling, Bennett 
 Frost, W. H. 
 Francis, Charles 
 Flint, A. M. 
 Fisher, Thomas C. 
 Ford, A. 
 Fithian, M. 
 Fell, J. A. 
 Fulton, Thomas 
 Fisher, David 
 
 Gummey, John M. 
 Graves, Bartholomew 
 Grant, E. S. 
 Green, James M, 
 Glentworth, Ed. H. 
 Graff, John 
 Glen, T. B. 
 Gibbs, H. 
 Godey, F. R. 
 Glentworth, J. 
 Gowen, James 
 Gratz, Simon 
 Griswold, Rufus W. 
 
 Hay & Co., Peter 
 Huston, John F. 
 Hemphill, R. C. 
 Holton, Wm. B. 
 Hurst, Edward 
 Hyde, William 
 Henry, John C. 
 Hamilton, Robert S. 
 Hughes, Rev. John 
 Heiskell, Wm. M. 
 Harrison, Georije Leib 
 Hall, George B! 
 Hopkinson, F. 
 Hideliu.s, Charles 
 Herring, R. G. 
 Harper, C. 
 Hoskins, Thomas 
 Hampton, Alexander 
 
LIST OF SUBSCRIBERS. 
 
 155 
 
 I 
 I 
 
 Hirst, Wm. L. 
 Hoffman, John A. 
 Hall, John 
 Haley, N. 
 Harris, E. G. 
 Hollingsworth, Levi 
 Hanna, James 
 Hart, A. 
 Hay, John 
 Howell, Robert 
 
 Ingersoll, C. 
 Isaaason, M. 
 Inslee, J. Richard 
 Jones, William 
 Jewell, John 13. 
 IngiTsoll, D. S. 
 Jackson. J. R. 
 Jackson, Washington 
 Jackson, Charles S. 
 Jones, Geo. W. 
 Jones, A.M. 
 Jewell, Kenneth 
 Jones, pAlward R. 
 Johnson, S. 
 Jones, J. S. 
 
 Keily, Rev. J. 
 Key & Biddle, 
 Kenney, Jno. B. 
 
 Kitlrr, 
 
 KretscliMKir, J. 
 King, Jiio. 
 
 Leeds, J. W. 
 Lisle, John M. 5 
 Lyons, M. 
 Lewis, John F. 
 Lovvber, Jau.es C. 
 Little, George P. 
 Law, B. i\J. 
 Laurence, Isaac 
 Lecount, Ifuiiali 
 Lewis, jun. Jos. L. 
 Lear, J. W. 
 Llianos, A. 
 
 Meredith, W. M. 
 M' Henry, James 
 Moss, Joseph L. 
 Marotte, L. 
 Martin, John C. 
 M'llhenney, Joseph E. 
 Magonagal, M. 
 Mendenhall, P. 
 M'Pherson, John 
 Mandry, Wm. 
 M'Grath, J. W. 
 Maywood, Robert C. 
 Moore, A. D. 
 Moore, T. M. 
 Mayweg, Wm, 
 Meredith, W. W. 
 Morrell, Thomas 
 Milnor, W^illiam 
 Morri.s, Robert 
 M'Grath, Samuel 
 Moore, H. 
 
 M'Laughlin, G. W. 2 
 M'MuUin, James 
 M'Bran, R. 
 M'Leared, J. B. 
 Martin, D. 
 Miles, John D. 
 M'Calla, J. 
 M'Causland, A. 
 
 New bold, Charles 
 Nancrced, C. 
 Newlin, Thomas W. 
 Nisbet, E. 
 Newbold, T. Ross 
 Natt, Thomas 
 
 O'Conway, J. V. 
 Oat, Charles 
 Ord, J. B. 
 Olmstead, Edward 
 
 Page, James 
 Price, Richard 
 Pilkington, W. 
 Placide, Thomas 
 
156 
 
 LIST OF SUBSCRIBERS. 
 
 Pyle, H. 
 
 Perkins, Samuel H. 
 Patterson, Thos. 
 Percival, T. C. 
 Pomcroy, R. W. 
 Peltz, A. M. 
 Pennington, Henry 
 Parker, Edward 
 Potter, Thos. E, 
 Perot, S. 
 
 Gtuail, John 
 
 Randall, J. 
 Rockhill, Thomas C. 
 Robinson, J. J. 
 Ramborger, Jno. R. 5 
 Rowley, H. G. 
 Rca, Alex. 
 Russell, jr. Ab. 
 Richards, Charles 
 Richards, A. H. 
 
 Sergeant, Hon. John 
 Swaim, Wni. 
 Spry, Joshua G. 
 Swain, E. H. 
 Stover, Owen 
 Smith, A. M. 
 Shea, John A. 
 Smith, Geo. W. 
 Scott, John R. 
 Smith, Samuel F. 
 Simmons, Joseph M. 
 Simpson, Thomas 
 Smith, Alfred L. 
 Saint, Douglass 
 Smith, Cornelius 
 Smith, R. Penn 
 Smith, F. G. 
 Smith, T. Learning 
 Simpson, Wm. 
 Swett, S. B. 
 Schnider, Charles 
 Scott, Edwin T. 
 Stillc, jr. John 
 
 Smith, Wm. T. 
 Stille, Theodore 
 Stone, John M. 2 
 Sully, T. W. 
 Schott, John 
 Sullivan, John B. 
 Stewart, S. M. 
 Shiner, Jos. S. 
 Schott. Geo. L. 
 Smith,' J. B. 
 Stout, T. H. 
 Sparks, Samuel A. 
 Soudcr, Geo. B. 
 Spackman, H. S. 
 Smith, J. E. 
 
 Tucker, S. 5 
 Thompson, M. 
 Taylor, Geo. 
 Taylor, L. B. 
 Tanner, S. 
 Thompson, Robert 
 Thomson. Geo. H. 
 Toland, Geo. W- 
 Toland, Robert 
 Tarns, Samson 
 Town, W. 
 
 Van.sciver, C. H. 
 Vanpclt, A. S. 
 
 White, Thos. H. 
 Wiltbank, Ambrose W. 
 West, J. L. 
 Wincbrcncr, J. 
 Wothcrill, Wm. 
 Worrall, Thos. Augustus 
 Watson, jr. Charles C. 
 White, jr. Wm. 
 Warner, Jno. S. 
 Wiser, John 
 Welsh, Wm. 
 
 Zantzintger, George 
 Zebley, John 
 
 ^'i^Mi- 
 
 '30 
 
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