140 FROM THE LIBRARY OF REV. LOUIS FITZGERALD BENSON, D. D. BEQUEATHED BY HIM TO THE LIBRARY OF PRINCETON THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY rem / WS^i Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2012 with funding from Princeton Theological Seminary Library http://archive.org/details/chapelhermitsOOwhit T II 1 CHAPEL OK THE BERMITS, OTB i: i: PO i. m s " / JOHN «;. w b i rr I BR BOS TO X: TIOKNOB , RE I D PI ELDS. M DOCC I in. Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1332, by Jons G. Whit tier, In the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the District of Massachusetts. CONTEN I B. The Chapel of tiik Hermits, yi i -i ion of i-in' In Puaoam oi Nvri.i- Tiik 1*i \. i: Of El IX>m— 1862 19 ii, To , 17 Is IV v. | Bi n m in ' - PlOTUMI Dnun AfTftJU 1 1 1 N Tiik Cbom i 1 71 To Fredrika Bremer, Ariur., VI CONTENTS. Pagb Stanzas for the Times — 1850, 77 A Sabbath Scene, 80 The Californian at the Grave of his Wife, 86 Remembrance, 90 The Poor Voter on Election Day, 08 Trust 05 Kathleen, 06 First-dat Thoughts, 102 Kossuth, : 104 To my old School-master 106 P o E M 8 Tin; CHAPEL OJ PHI BBRMITS. u I do beliere, and yet, in g\ I pray for belp to unbelief; Poi needful Btrength aside to lay The daily cuml eringa of my vs •■ I 'in Biclf at heart of Ciafl and .-int. Sick of the craze 1 enthusiast's rant, Professi >n'a Bmooth hypocrisies, And creeds of iron, and liv. - " I pond' r o'er the Bacred word. 1 lead the record of our Lord ; And, Weak and troubled, envy r Who touched His Beamless garment's hem ; 10 THE CHAPEL OF THE HERMITS. 11 Who saw the tears of love He wept Above the grave where Lazarus slept ; And heard, amidst the shadows dim Of Olivet, His evening hymn. " How blessed the swine-herd's low estate, The beggar crouching at the gate, The leper loathly and abhorred, Whose eyes of flesh beheld the Lord ! " 0, sacred soil His sandals pressed ! Sweet fountains of His noonday rest ! O, light and air of Palestine, Impregnate with His life divine ! " O, bear me thither ! Let me look On Siloa's pool, and Kedron's brook, — Kneel at Gethsemane, and by Gennesaret walk, before I die ! " Methinks this cold and northern night Would melt before that Orient light; And, wet by Hermon's dew and rain, My childhood's faith revive again ! " T B B C B A !' I L OF THE II E I M I . 11 my friend, one autumn day, Where the .-till rivei ^ 1 i« 1 a* B • 'tli 08, and above tin- brown B I curtains of tip at down. Then -aid I, — fur I OOUld it"t brook The mote ap] I In- look, — 44 I, too. am weak, and faith [fl Miiall, And blindness happeneth unto all. ■ \ ■ Bometimet glimpse on Through present wn>nL r . t | 1( . ,. t , ni;i i ricrlu ; And, step by - b p, since tim< I idv gain of man ! 41 That ;t!l of good the past hath had K mains to make <»nr own time glad, — ( )ur common daily lit'- an be, And every land a l';i|. M Thou weariest of thy present state; \ hat gain to thee time's holiest date? The doubter now perchance had lx?cn As HiL r h Priest come. But weakness, shame and folly, n The foU to all hi- pen portra . Still, where his dreamy splendor! The shadow of himself was thrown. Lord, what is man, who it, at tin- Up to I -fold brightness dim] While still his grosser instinct clii To earth, like other creeping things ! So rich in words, in So high, so low ; change-swung betwern The foulness of the penal pit And Truth's clear sky, millenniumdit ! 18 THE CHAPEL OF THE HER 31 ITS. Vain pride of star-lent genius ! — vain Quick fancy and creative brain, Unblest by prayerful sacrifice, Absurdly great, or weakly wise ! Midst yearnings for a truer life, Without were fears, within was strife ; And still his wayward act denied The perfect good for which he sighed. The love he sent forth void returned ; The fame that crowned him scorched and burned ; Burning, yet cold and drear and lone, — A fire-mount in a frozen zone ! Like that the gray-haired sea-king passed, 2 Seen southward from his sleety mast, About whose brows of changeless frost A wreath of flame the wild winds tossed. Far round the mournful beauty played Of lambent light and purple shade, Lost on the fixed and dumb despair Of frozen earth and sea and air ! T H i: C H A P EL 01 T I! B H I". 19 d apart, unknown, unli By those whose wrongs hi- sou] had moi re the ban of Chan h a S 1 [ ood man's fear, the bigot's h Forth from the city's noise and throng, It- pomp and shame, it-- >in and r The twain that summer T<» Mount Volerien's ch< To them the green fields and the - Lent something of their quietude, And golden-tinted s Prophetical of all th< ed. riif hermits from ! : The bell was calling home to And, listening t<» it- sound, the twain S '1 lapped in childhood's tru-t again. 1 the chapel d ild music, swelling i Low prayerful murmurs, . — The Litanies of Proridi 2 20 THE CHAPEL OF THE HERMITS. Then Rousseau spake : — " Where two or three In His name meet, He there will be ! " And then, in silence, on their knees They sank beneath the chestnut-trees. As to the blind returning light, As daybreak to the Arctic night, Old faith revived : the doubts of years Dissolved in reverential tears. That gush of feeling overpast, " Ah me ! " Bernardin sighed at last, " I would thy bitterest foes could see Thy heart as it is seen of me ! " No church of God hast thou denied; Thou hast but spurned in scorn aside A base and hollow counterfeit, Profaning the pure name of it ! 11 With dry dead moss and marish weeds His fire the western herdsman feeds, And greener from the ashen plain The sweet spring grasses rise again. T II B C B A P B L OF T II B H B B M 1 21 11 Nor thunder-pea] nor mighty wind Disturb the Bolid sky behind ; And through the cloud the red bolt r The calm, Mill smile of 1 1 tnds ! " Thus through tin* world, like bolt and Hi And scourging tiro, thy word* Clouds break, — the steadfr lain; W eds burn, — thi in ! " But whoso strives with wrong may find [l ouch poll ind ; An I learn, as latent fraud is shown In others 1 faith, to doubt his own. 11 With dream and falsehood, simple b And pious hop • we tread in d Lost the calm faith in The baptism of the Penteo '• Alas ! — the blows foi erroi meant Too oft on truth itself axe spent, As through the false and vile and be Looks forth her sad, rebuking f 22 THE CHAPEL OF THE HERMITS. " Not ours the Theban's charmed life ; We came not scathless from the strife ! The Python's coil about us clings, The trampled Hydra bites and stings ! " Meanwhile, the sport of seeming chance, The plastic shapes of circumstance, "What might have been we fondly guess, If earlier born, or tempted less. " And thou, in these wild, troubled days, Misjudged alike in blame and praise, Unsought and undeserved the same The sceptic's praise, the bigot's blame ; — " I cannot doubt, if thou had'st been Among the highly-favored men Who walked on earth with Fenelon, He would have owned thee as his son ; " And, bright with wings of cherubim Visibly waving over him, Seen through his life, the church had seemed All that its old confessors dreamed." THE CHAPEL OF THE HERMITS. '• I would have been : iques replied, rvant at his side, 0! How beautiful man's life may ' ' than thr; lie, more . oil lore, The holy liti rho trod 'J I ■ A iidst a blinded world he Tip the D ial law ; Tli;: !' in, \ I : " He lived the Truth which i T ■ . Faith the child : In him belief and art * homilies of duty d So speaking, through the twilight gray The two old pilgri What Beeds i :' life that day were sown, The heavenly watchers knew a! 24 THE CHAPEL OF THE HERMITS. Time passed, and Autumn came to fold Green Summer in her brown and gold : Time passed, and Winter's tears of snow Dropped on the grave-mound of Rousseau ! " The tree remaineth where it fell, The pained on earth is pained in hell ! " So priestcraft from its altars cursed The mournful doubts its falsehood nursed. Ah ! well 'of old the Psalmist prayed, " Thy hand, not man's, on me be laid ! " Earth frowns below, Heaven weeps above, And man is hate, but God is love ! No Hermits now the wanderer sees, Nor chapel with its chestnut-trees ; A morning dream, a tale that 's told, The wave of change o'er all has rolled. Yet lives the lesson of that day ; And from its twilight cool and gray Comes up a low, sad whisper : — " Make The truth thine own, for truth's own sake. THE CHAP! L F T H B H I R M I T8. ZO Why wail thy briel - Its perfecl tl >wer and fruit in man ? no balm Of healing hath the martyr's palm. Mid ■ i'l false pi Of spiritual pride and pamper A lith, ' What is that to ti. B«- true i I follow lie ! ' In days uhf gold. TIkmi Bpake my friend: — "Thy words are true V er old, forever new, These borne- Whi.-h over E I 23 THE CHAPEL OF THE HERMITS. " To these bowed heavens let wood and hi] Lift voiceless praise and anthems still ; Fall, warm with blessing, over them, Light of the New Jerusalem ! " Flow on, sweet river, like the stream Of John's Apocalyptic dream ! This mapled ridge shall Horeb be, Yon green-banked lake our Galilee ! " Henceforth my heart shall sigh no more For olden time and holier shore ; God's love and blessing, then and there, Are now and here and everywhere." ESTI0N8 I L : '. DnftO PM, wfcOM name v.a> I'riri, ine an answer, tad " Tliy h< art liatli gOD« tOO far I !hiiiki.-t t. oomprehend the wi Then .-ai'l Em unto i ( the " — 2 BldlM, <-!.aj>. if. A Itaff 1 wotil.l not I ■ ile faith I would oof shake, . pluck away The error which some truth may stay, Whose loss ii. the soul without A shield against th< of doubt And yet, at tiia» s, when OTBI all A darker mystery i I fall (May God forgive the child of dust, Who seeks to know, where Faith should trust .'), 30 QUESTIONS OF LIFE. I raise the questions, old and dark, Of Uzdom's tempted patriarch, And, speech-confounded, build again The baffled tower of Shinar's plain. I am : how little more I know ! Whence came I ? Whither do I go ? A centred self, which feels and is; A cry between the silences ; A shadow-birth of clouds at strife With sunshine on the hills of life ; A shaft from Nature's quiver cast Into the Future from the Past; Between the cradle and the shroud, A meteor's flight from cloud to cloud. Thorough the vastness, arching all, I see the great stars rise and fall, The rounding seasons come and go, The tided oceans ebb and flow ; The tokens of a central force, Whose circles, in their widening course, O'erlap and move the universe ; QUI • OF LIFE. 31 1 irth the darki Of al! i . — bird, — what part have I \ This . — is it th . thrills i ; Whei \ V. When Spring m How :"■ la the si »ne the rth, Which bi tling prism forth ? 1 the throb whi The life-blood to its new- Do bird ami bit Life's many-folded mystery, — The wonder which it is TO I and distinct, From Nature's chain of life unlink Allied to all, yet not the Prisoned in separate conscious 32 QUESTIONS OF LIFE. Alone o'erburdened with a sense Of life, and cause, and consequence ? In vain to me the Sphinx propounds The riddle of her sights and sounds ; Back still the vaulted mystery gives The echoed question it receives. What sings the brook ? What oracle Is in the pine-tree's organ-swell ? What may the wind's low burden be ? The meaning of the moaning sea ? The hieroglyphics of the stars ? Or clouded sunset's crimson bars ? I vainly ask, for mocks my skill The trick of Nature's cipher still. I turn from Nature unto men, I ask the stylus and the pen ; What sang the bards of old ? What meant The prophets of the Orient ? The rolls of buried Egypt, hid In painted tomb and pyramid ? LIFE. .'33 What mean I arrowy li.i Or dusk Flora- 1 1 primal thought of i From the L r rim Where tests tfa Of the old death-bolt Alas ! the dead retain their trust ; Dust bath no ;iu-v. i real enigma still ui Unanswered the i •■ I gather up the - 0( wisdom in the • arly i Faint gleams and br the light Of meteors in n night, Betraying to the darkling earth in which Q Mrtli ; I lir mockery, Art, And book and : men apart, To the still witness in my h'-art; With reverence waiting to behold His Avatar of love unfold, The Eternal Beauty new and old! THE PRISONERS OF NAPLES. I have been thinking of the victims bound In Naples, dying for the lack of air And sunshine, in their close, damp cells of pain, Where hope is not, and innocence in vain Appeals against the torture and the chain ! Unfortunates ! whose crime it was to share Our common love of freedom, and to dare, In its behalf, Rome's harlot triple-crowned, And her base pander, the most hateful thing Who upon Christian or on Pagan ground Makes vile the old heroic name of king. O, God most merciful ! Father just and kind ! Whom man hath bound let Thy right hand unbind. Or, if Thy purposes of good behind Their ills lie hidden, let the sufferers find Strong consolations ; leave them not to doubt Thy providential care, nor yet without The hope which all Thy attributes inspire, T II L PRI80NEB8 OK NAPLES, .S9 That not in vain the martyr'- robe of fire I- worn, nor the sad pri I ftting chain; Since all who suffer for Thy truth Bend forth, J. . with every throb of pain. Unquenchable sparks, Thy own baptismal rain Of fire ami spirit over all the earth, Making the dead in slavery live again. Let this great hope l»- with then lie Shut from the Light, the sky, — From the cool wati n ami the pi The smell of flowers, ai Bound with the felon lepers, whom « 1 i - - And -iii- abhorred maiv<- loathsome; let them >harc Pellico'fi faith, Foi ngth to bear Voars of unutterable torment, stern ami -till. As the chained Titan victor through his will! Comfort them with Thy future; let them i The day-dawn i^( Italian liberty ; For that, with all good things, i- hid \.- I And, perfect in Thy thought, await- it< time to I, who have spoken foi freedom at the coal Of -Mm.- weak friendships, or some paltry priie 40 THE PRISONERS OF NAPLES. Of name or place, and more than I have lost Have gained in wider reach of sympathies, And free communion with the good and wise, — May God forbid that I should ever boast Such easy self-denial, or repine That the strong pulse of health no more is mine ; That, overworn at noonday, I must yield To other hands the gleaning of the field, — A tired on-looker through the day's decline. For blest beyond deserving still, and knowing That kindly Providence its care is showing In the withdrawal as in the bestowing, Scarcely I dare for more or less to pray. Beautiful yet for me this autumn day Melts on its sunset hills ; and, far away, For me the Ocean lifts its solemn psalm, To me the pine-woods whisper : and for me Yon river, winding through its vales of calm, By greenest banks, with asters purple-starred, And gentian bloom and golden-rod made gay, Flows down in silent gladness to the sea, Like a pure spirit to its great reward ! tin; PS ISO N 1: B s o r N A r ; 41 Nor Lack I friends, long-tried and neai and Whose lore u round me like this atmosph Warm, soft and golden. I i me, What shall I render, my God, to Ti. Let me not dwell upon my lighter share Of pain and ill that human life musl bear; S;i\-' me from selfish i » i m i 1 1 <_r ; l«'t my h Drawn from itself m sympathy, forget The bitter longingi of a rain r< L r r*-t, The anguish of il- own peculiar -mart. Remembering others, :i- I have to-day, In their peat sorrows, let me live alway Not for myself alone, but have a part. Such afl a frail and erring >pirit may, In lore which is of 1 . and which indeed TIkmj art ! THE PEACE OF EUROPE — 1852. " Great peace in Europe ! Order reigns From Tiber's hills to Danube's plains ! " So say her kings and priests ; so say The lying prophets of our day. Go lay to earth a listening ear ; The tramp of measured marches hear, — The rolling of the cannon's wheel, The shotted musket's murderous peal. The night alarm, the sentry's call, The quick-eared spy in hut and hall ! From Polar sea and tropic fen The dying-groans of exiled men ! The bolted cell, the galley's chains, The scaffold smoking with its stains ! Order — the hush of brooding slaves ! Peace — in the dungeon -vaults and craves ! THC PEACE OF EUROPE. 43 0, Fisher! of the world-wide With meshes in all waft Who-r fabled L aren and hell Bolt hard the patriot' -cell, And open wide the banquet-hall, Where kings and priests hold camiral! W« ik vassal tricked in royal gn B Kaiser with thy lip of ! I'. • gambler tor N crown, Barnacle on hi< dead renown ! Thou, Bourbon Neapol I Crowned scandal, loath* And thou, fell Spider of the North ! Stretching thy giant feelers forth, Within who--- web the freedom d Of nations eaten np like flies ! Speak, Prince and Kaiser, Priest and Car! If this I"* Peace, pray what is Warl White Angel of the Lord! onmeel That soil accursed foi thy p V • r in Slavery's desert flows The fountain of thy charmed 44 THE PEACE OF EUROPE. No tyrant's hand thy chaplet weaves Of lilies and of olive-leaves ; Not with the wicked shalt thou dwell, Thus saith the Eternal Oracle ; Thy home is with the pure and free ! Stern herald of thy better day, Before thee, to prepare thy way, The Baptist Shade of Liberty, Gray, scarred and hairy-robed, must press With bleeding feet the wilderness ! O ! that its voice might pierce the ear Of princes, trembling while they hear A cry as of the Hebrew seer : Repent ! God's Kingdom draweth near ! VfORDSWORTH. WtLtTTKS ON A BLANK IMAM Vf UU MLi: Deai friends, who read the trorld And in ita common fori: A beauty and ■ harmony The many oerei lean ! Kindred in eon] of him who found In ample flower and leaf and v : The impulse of the I lyi Our Si iwn, — A • <>rd of :i ]i(c \ t and pnre, as calm and good, A- ■ long day of blandest Jane In L r r»'''ii Held and in Wood How welcome to our ears, long pained By strife of ted and party n The brook-like murmur of his song Of nature's simple joj 46 WORDSWORTH. The violet by its mossy stone, The primrose by the river's brim, And chance-sown daffodil, have found Immortal life through him. The sunrise on his breezy lake, The rosy tints his sunset brought, World-seen, are gladdening all the vales And mountain-peaks of thought. Art builds on sand ; the works of pride And human passion change and fall ; But that which shares the life of God With Him surviveth all. 1 o . Fair Nature's priestess* - ! to whom, In hieroglyph of bud and bloom, 1 1 • >ld ; Who, wise in od and n 'l'h ■ seasons' pictured Bcrolls can i In lessons manifold ! Thanks foz the courtesy, and Good humor, which on V> Day < I .-■ d \ isil bore ; Thanks for your graceful oars, which broke The morning dreams of Art* Along his wooded she \ ! as varying Natui Sprites of the river, woodland fai Or mountain-nymp] - emj 48 to Free-limbed Dianas on the green, Loch Katrine's Ellen, or Undine, Upon your favorite stream. The forms of which the poets told, The fair benignities of old, Were doubtless such as you; What more than Artichoke the rill Of Helicon ? Than Pipe-stave hill Arcadia's mountain-view ? No sweeter bowers the bee delayed, In wild Hymettus' scented shade, Than those you dwell among ; Snow-flowered azalias, intertwined With roses, over banks inclined With trembling hare-bells hung ! A charmed life unknown to death, Immortal freshness Nature hath ; Her fabled fount and glen Are now and here : Dodona's shrine Still murmurs in the wind-swept pine, All is that e'er hath been. t o . 49 The Beauty which old Greece or Rome Song, paint I, wrought, lies close at home ; We need bill eye and In all our daily wall The outline* of incarnat The hymn to bear ! IN PEACE. A track of moonlight on a quiet lake, Whose small waves on a silver-sanded shore Whisper of peace, and with the low winds make Such harmonies as keep the woods awake, And listening all night long for their sweet sake ; A green-waved slope of meadow, hovered o'er By angel-troops of lilies, swaying light On viewless stems, with folded wings of white ; A slumberous stretch of mountain-land, far seen Where the low westering day, with gold and green, Purple and amber, softly blended, fills The wooded vales, and melts among the hills ; A vine-fringed river, winding to its rest On the calm bosom of a storm] ess sea, Bearing alike upon its placid breast, With earthly flowers and heavenly stars impressed, The hues of time and of eternity : Such are the pictures which the thought of thee, IH PEACE. 51 friend, awakeneth, — charming the keen pain Of thy departure, and <>ur sense of lo Requiting with the fulness of thy gain. Lo ! on the quiet grave thy life-born Dropped only a1 its side, methinks doth shi Of thy beatitude the radiant sign ! \ sob of grief, no wild lament, be th To break the Sabbath of the holy air ; But, in their stead, the silent-breathing pray r Of hearts still waiting for a real like thine. nt redeemed! Forgive us, if henceforth, With sweet and pure similitudes of earth, \ e keep thy pleasant memory fresh Of Love's inheritance ;i priceless part. Which Fancy's self, in reverent awe, To paint, forgetful of the tricks of art, With pencil dipped alone in color- of the heart 4 BENEDICITE. God's love and peace be with thee, where Soe'er this soft autumnal air Lifts the dark tresses of thy hair ! Whether through city casements comes Its kiss to thee, in crowded rooms, Or, out among the woodland blooms, It freshens o'er thy thoughtful face, Imparting, in its glad embrace, Beauty to beauty, grace to grace ! Fair Nature's book together read, The old wood-paths that knew our tread, The maple shadows overhead, — The hills w r e climbed, the river seen By gleams along its deep ravine, — All keep thy memory fresh and green. B BNBD1 C I . 53 Where'er I look, whi I Thy thought goea frith me on my way, And hence the prayer 1 breathe to-day ! O'er lapse of time and ch The weary Waste which liefl I I Thyself ami in"-, my heart I lean. Thou lack'sl doI Friendahip'i ipell-word, nor The half-unconscious pom r to draw- All hearte to thine by L iw. With th< 1 1 Thy lot, and many a < harm thou bast To hold the blessed angels fast If, then, a fervent wish f<»r i: The gracious beavens will heed from me, What should, dear heart, its burden I The sighing of a shaken reed — What can I more than meekly pli The greatness of our common \> ■ 54 BENEDICITE. God's love — unchanging, pure and true The Paraclete white-shining through His peace — the fall of Hermon's dew ! With such a prayer, on this sweet day. As thou may'st hear and I may say, I greet thee, dearest, far away ! PI I I. Linm, warmth, and sprouting . rail Blup, stainless, steel-bright ether, raini I tquillity upon the deep-hush The freshening meadows, and the hill-sid< V wind &om the hills And thp brimmed rirei from II fall, 1. »w lmni of 1 s, and joyous interlu Of bird- — ■ Heralds and prop] bt, Blessed forerunners of the warmth and light, idant ang With p ren at t • with mi Onrp more through ( you ] A morn of resurrection sweet and fair A- that which -aw. of old, P Immortal Love upri^imr in fresh bloom From the dark night and winter of tfa Fifth month, 2d, LS52. 56 PICTURES. II. White with its sun-bleached dust, the pathway winds Before me ; dust is on the shrunken grass, And on the trees beneath whose boughs I pass ; Frail screen against the Hunter of the sky, Who, glaring on me with his lidless eye, While mounting with his dog-star high and higher, Ambushed in light intolerable, unbinds The burnished quiver of his shafts of fire. Between me and the hot fields of his South A tremulous glow, as from a furnace-mouth, Glimmers and swims before my dazzled sight, As if the burning arrows of his ire Broke as they fell, and shattered into light ! Yet on my cheek I feel the Western wind, And hear it telling to the orchard trees, And to the faint and flower-forsaken bees, Tales of fair meadows, green with constant streams, And mountains rising blue and cool behind, Where in moist dells the purple orchis gleams, And starred with white the virgin's bower is twined. So the o'erwearied pilgrim, as he fares Along life's summer waste, at times is fanned, PICTURES. 57 Even at noontide, by the cool, tfweel airs Of a serener and a holier land, Fresh as the morn, and a< the dewfall bland. Breath of the hi- I I! . . for which we pray, Blow from the eternal hills! — make glad our earthly way ! Eighth month DERNE. 3 Night on the city of the Moor ! On mosque and tomb, and white-walled shore, On sea-waves, to whose ceaseless knock The narrow harbor-gates unlock, On corsair's galley, carack tall, And plundered Christian caraval ! The sounds of Moslem life are still ; No mule-bell tinkles down the hill ; Stretched in the broad court of the khan, The dusty Bornou caravan Lies heaped in slumber, beast and man ; The Sheik is dreaming in his tent, His noisy Arab tongue o'er-spent ; The kiosk's glimmering lights are gone, The merchant with his wares withdrawn ; Rough pillowed on some pirate breast, The dancing-girl has sunk to rest ; DB1 59 And, save where m tens fall Along the Bashaw*! guarded wall, Or where, Lik< - 1 dream, the X I ilthily his quarter through, Or counts with fear his golden heaps, The City of the Corsair sleej Hut where yon prison long and ! 1- black against tl r-giow, Chafed by the -. ash <>f a Then- watch and pine the Christian slaves; — Rough-bearded men, whose far-off win Wear out with irri'• " Tic rightly borne, shall be No burd< ii, bul support to thee ;"* B . moved of old time for o The holy monk of Kempen Thou brave and true one ! upon wl om Whs laid the crow of m irt) r lorn, How didst thou, in tli •. ith, bV ar witness to this bl< s» 1 truth ! Thy cross of Buffi ring an 1 of so A staff within thy hands becan In paths where faitb alone i ouJ I The M i pporting thee. Thine was tlm seed-time ; God alone Beholds the end of what is BOWn ; • Thomas a Kcinjis. Imit. Chrift. THE CROSS. Beyond our vision, weak and dim, The harvest-time is hid with Him. Yet, unforgotten where it lies, That seed of generous sacrifice, Though seeming on the desert cast, Shall rise with bloom and fruit at last. E V A . 1 1 foi holy I. With the !'!■ — \ an Of the fo] 1 1 1 < i lair Give to earth the U ndei For tip golden locli Let the sunny south-land give hi r Flowery pillow of repose, — Orange-bloom and budding i In tlp^ better I I ie Bhinin With the welcome -voiced psalm, Harp of gold and waving palm ! All is light and pea I There the darkn< bs cotneth never ; Tears are wiped, and fetters fall, An 1 th< I. 1 is all in all. 72 EVA. Weep no more for happy Eva, Wrong and sin no more shall grieve her ; Care and pain and weariness Lost in love so measureless. Gentle Eva, loving Eva, Child confessor, true believer, Listener at the Master's knee, " Suffer such to come to me." O, for faith like thine, sweet Eva, Lighting all the solemn river, And the blessings of the poor Wafting to the heavenly shore! To PB i: D B l K \ BB EM BB.« Sberess of the misty Norland, i I the Vikings bold, Welcome to the Bunny Vineland, Which thy fat] hi of old ! Soft as flow of Silja's wa When the moon of summer shii Strong aa Winti c from bia mountains Roaring through the sleeted pin 1 1 n and i ar, we long bare Listened I me and song, Til] b household joy and We have known and lo long. By the mansion's marble mantel, Round the log-walled cabin's hearth, Thy sweet thoughts and northern fancies M- I ami mingle with our mirth. TO FREDRIKA BREMEE. And, o'er weary spirits keeping Sorrow's night-watch, long and chill, Shine they like thy sun of summer Over midnight vale and hill. t We alone are strangers to thee, Thou our friend and teacher art ; Come, and know us as we know thee ; Let us meet thee heart to heart ! To our homes and household altars We, in turn, thy steps would lead, As thy loving hand has led us O'er the threshold of the Swede. LPB I r. . u Til- I the dood of the sa . a bird i iken elm <>r the maple is heard ; I And blowing of drifts u !.• Where \ ind-flo iolet, amber and white, « I outh-sloptng brook-sides should smile in tin- light, I I the cold winter- The frosty flake eddies, the ice-crystal she And, longing for light, under wind-driven h Round the boles of the pine-wood the ground-laurel Unkissed of the sunshine, unbaptized of show With bu y swelled, which should hur>t into flow 76 APRIL We wait for thy coming, sweet wind of the south ! For the touch of thy light wings, the kiss of thy mouth ; For the yearly evangel thou bearest from God, Resurrection and life to the graves of the sod ! Up our long river-valley, for days, have not ceased The wail and the shriek of the bitter north-east, — Raw and chill, as if winnowed through ices and snow, All the way from the land of the wild Esquimaux, — Until all our dreams of the land of the blest, Like that red hunter's, turn to the sunny south-west. 0, soul of the spring-time, its light and its breath, Bring warmth to this coldness, bring life to this death ; Renew the great miracle ; let us behold The stone from the mouth of the sepulchre rolled, And Nature, like Lazarus, rise, as of old ! Let our faith, which in darkness and coldness has lain, Revive with the warmth and the brightness again, And in blooming of flower and budding of tree The symbols and types of our destiny see ; The life of the spring-time, the life of the whole, And as sun to the sleeping earth love to the soul ! STA NZAS l OB l II i: TIM BS— 1850. Thb evil daya bare come, — the poor Are made a p liar up the hospitable d I'ut out tlii- fire-lights, point Tli Foi !' 'in i telted at h< r hearth in twain, 1 oft niin : I Our Union, liL r stirred B; roice below, Or bell of kine, or wing of bird, A b "i>t, a kindly v \! i , rerthrow ! 78 STANZAS FOE, THE TIMES. Poor, whispering tremblers ! — yet we boast Our blood and name ; Bursting its century -bolted frost, Each gray cairn on the Northman's coast Cries out for shame ! for the open firmament, The prairie free, The desert hillside, cavern-rent, The Pawnee's lodge, the Arab's tent, The Bushman's tree ! Than web of Persian loom most rare, Or soft divan, Better the rough rock, bleak and bare, Or hollow tree, which man may share With suffering man. 1 hear a voice : — " Thus saith the Law, Let Love be dumb ; Clasping her liberal hands in awe, Let sweet-lipped Charity withdraw From hearth and home." T II B T I I I hear another roice : — M T3 A thine to I Turn not the outcast from i S .\<- to bonds and wrong one* Whom God hath i Dear L I \ not untrue to man't Though spurning it- reward "Who bean It- pa u\<. Not iiiiii-' Se lition's trun Ami thn atening word ; I read the Thai firm endui .More than th< • > F lith and I thou S 'aim and BtTOng, La iA' (Jed ! be on ar to show Hi- glorious future shining through This night of wrong ! A SABBATH SCENE. Scarce had the solemn Sabbath-bell Ceased quivering in the steeple, Scarce had the parson to his desk Walked stately through his people, When down the summer shaded street A wasted female figure, With dusky brow and naked feet, Came rushing wild and eager. She saw the white spire through the trees, She heard the sweet hymn swelling ; 0, pitying Christ! a refuge give That poor one in Thy dwelling ! Like a scared fawn before the hounds, Right up the aisle she glided, While close behind her, whip in hand, A lank-haired hunter sirided. A SABBATH SCI N B . She raised a keen and bitter cry, To Heaven and Earth appealing; — \ era manhood's . :• id ? 1 1 ■! woman"- bearl no feeli A sore of -tout hands rose beta The banter and th<- flying ; Ago clenched his staff, and maid Flashed tearful, yet defying. u Who dan - profane this houae and d i . C * ri< »1 out the angry pastor. 11 Why, bl< n your soul, the wrench 'a ■ alare, And I 'in her lord and master ! '• I law ami gospel on my aide, And who shall dare refuse n Down came the parson, bowing low, •• My good bit, pray excuse me ! "Of course I Know your right dil To own and work and whip hr A Nature'! teaching ! Foul shame and - sorn be on ye all Who turn the good to evil, And steal ill" Bible from the Lord, T ive it to the Devil ! Than garbled text <»r parchment law tatute higher; And God ia true, though every hook And I \ ery man 'a a liar ! *' 84 A SABBATH SCENE. Just then I felt the deacon's hand In wrath my coat-tail seize on ; I heard the priest cry " Infidel ! " The lawyer mutter " Treason ! " I started up, — where now were church, Slave, master, priest and people ? I only heard the supper-bell, Instead of clanging steeple. But, on the open window's sill, O'er which the white blooms drifted, The pages of a good old Book The wind of summer lifted. And flower and vine, like angel wings Around the Holy Mother, Waved softly there, as if God's truth And Mercy kissed each other. And freely from the cherry -bough Above the casement swinging, With golden bosom to the sun, The oriole was singing. A SABBATH SCENE. 55 As bird and flowei mad'- plain of old The lesson of the Teacher, So now I heard the written Word Interpreted by Nature ! For to my ear methought th< Bore 1 • dora'a blessed word on ; T Loed: B Undo THE HE vv\ I THE CALIFORNIAN AT THE GRAVE OF HIS WIFE. I see thee still before me, even As when we parted ; I, gold-mad, from thy presence driven, — Thou, broken-hearted. I hear the train's shrill signal blown, Thy hurried prayer, the trembling tone Which held me, while it bade me go ; And read, tear-written, on thy cheek, The meaning which thou couldst not speak, Love's prophecy of woe ! Yet thou art with the dreamless dead Quietly sleeping; Around the marble at thy head The wild grass creeping ! How many thoughts, which but belong Unto the living and the young, THE CALE T THE OKAVE OF His W1FI ^7 Have whispered from my heart of to When thou wast resting calmly there, Shut from the blessed Ban sod sir, From life, and lore, and i Why did I leave theel Well I knew A flow* r bo frail M ; it sink l» neath the summer < >r xil't E jiriiiLT gale ; I knew how delicately wrought With feeling and intensest thought Was • i h sweet lineament of thine : And that thy bean n-ward soul would gain An early freedom from its chain \ as there not many ■ sign I There was d brightness in thine \ • t not of mirth ; A light whn-c clear intensity Was not ol earth ! Through thy thin cheek a deepening red Told where the feverish hectic fed; 88 THE CALIFORNIAN AT THE GRAVE OF HIS WIFE. And yet each fearful token gave A newer and a dearer grace To the mild beauty of thy face, Which spoke not of the grave ! Why did I leave thee ? Far away They told of lands Glittering with gold, with none to stay The gleaner's hands. For this I bartered thee, and sold The riches of my heart for gold ! Its healthful love for sinful lust ; The calm content of honest toil For feverish dream and fierce turmoil ; The wine of life for trodden dust. i Vain, worthless, all ! The lowliest spot, Enjoyed with thee, A richer and a dearer lot Had been to me ; For well I knew that thou couldst find Contentment in a quiet mind, THE CALD OF KM WIFE. 99 And riches in a true man"- lore. Why did I lea I Fully mine The blessing of a heart like thine, What could 1 ask abovi ( ). turn from me the Bad rebuke Of thai mild • unt of heaven, why shouldst thou look On such a [1 \I' think- I would not have thee kn< W wreak complaints and selfish ■.. Not mar thy | iot, mean shadow <»t mi v^ • Hid (»". r it- paltry pelf Igainst love, hope and th< REMEMBRANCE. WITH COPIES OF THE AUTHOR'S -WRITINGS. Friend of mine ! whose lot was cast With me in the distant past, — Where, like shadows flitting fast, Fact and fancy, thought and theme, Word and work, begin to seem Like a half-remembered dream ! Touched by change have all things been, Yet I think of thee as when We had speech of lip and pen. For the calm thy kindness lent To a path of discontent, Rough with trial and dissent ; Gentle words where such were few, Softening blame where blame was true, Praising where small praise was due ; REMEMBRANCE. M For a waking dream made good, For an ideal undent For thy Christian womanhood ; Foi thy marvellous L r ift to cull From our common life and dull Whatsoe'er is beautiful ; Thoughts and fancies, Hybla' Dropping sweetness; true heart*! Of congenial sympathies ; — Still for these 1 own my debt ; M mory, with her eyelids a Fain would thank r yet ! And n< on.. who scatters floa Where thi Q f M swi el boors Sirs, o'ertwined with blossomed boa In superfluous seal bestowing Gifts where gifts are overflowing, So I pay the debl I 'm owing. 92 KEMEMBRANCE. To thy full thoughts, gay or sad, Sunny-hued or sober clad, Something of my own I add ; Well assured that thou wilt take Even the offering which I make Kindly for the giver's sake. ] ]| B POOR VOl BB ON ELEi HON DA V The proudest dow is but my j- The highest not more high ; To-day, of all the wear] \ ear, A king of men am I. T<>- old baffling -0, m\ I sannofl am In fain I send My - rci bum T Of B 'I cannot 1 an Their i"- Th« "irn I re "ii m thro With >ilont chall Proffering tin* riddl< 9 • Like tho calm Sphinxes, with tfa ^l >ning the 1 1 h:r swer for mya If or i' S ride my 1. ;ec : " All a of ( > • i that 1-. and And God !. I -ill. K Bti in child-li] 1 1 - will. Who moves to II - - unthwai ill. KATHLEEN. 6 Norah, lay your basket down, And rest your weary hand, And come and hear me sing a song Of our old Ireland. There was a lord of Galaway, A mighty lord was he ; And he did wed a second wife, A maid of low degree. But he was old, and she was young, And so, in evil spite, She baked the black bread for his kin, And fed her own with white. She whipped the maids and starved the kern, And drove away the poor ; Ah, woe is me ! " the old lord said, " I rue my bargain sore ! " K ATM LI B N . 97 This lord be had a daughter fair, Beloved of old and young, And oightly round (he shealing (ires Of licr the gleeman song. "As sweet and L r «"»d is young Kathleen I . ■>■■■ hex (all ; " So sang the harpei at the fair, 8 i harped he in the hall. " O, come to UK', my daughter deal '. Come til upon my km For looking in yom face, Kathleen, Youi mother's own 1 He smoothed and smoothed ln-r half away, 1I<" kissed her forehead lair; "It is my darling Mary'- brow, It is my darling's hair ! n 0, then spake up the angry dame, " Qei up. get up.*' quoth she, " I '11 sell ye over Ireland. I '11 sell ve o'er the sea ! " 98 KATHLEEN. She clipped her glossy hair away, That none her rank might know, She took away her gown of silk, And gave her one of tow, And sent her down to Limerick town, And to a seaman sold This daughter of an Irish lord For ten good pounds in gold. The lord he smote upon his breast, And tore his beard so gray ; But he was old, and she was young, And so she had her way. Sure that same night the Banshee howled To fright the evil dame, And fairy folks, who loved Kathleen, With funeral torches came. She watched them glancing through the trees, And glimmering down the hill ; They crept before the dead-vault door, And there they all stood still ! I A T II L i 99 • up, old man ! ibe wake-lights shine ! " • Ye murthering witch" quoth \<\ " So I 'm rid of your tongue, I Little one If they shine f<»r you or n* I I whoso brings my daughter back, \I . gold and land shall aai (). then spake ap his h i • N gold H'»r l:ui'l I < ■ M Hut L r i\" ' B "U the land, I *11 bring her back to I " My daughter is ■ lady And you of low de Rut she shall be your bride the day \ bring her back t<> n II sail ' sailed ^ And far and long Bailed he, Until h(> came to Boston town, \ ross the great sail - 7 100 KATHLEEN. " 0, have ye seen the young Kathleen, The flower of Ireland ? Ye '11 know her by her eyes so blue, And by her snow-white hand ! " Out spake an ancient man, " I know The maiden whom ye mean ; I bought her of a Limerick man, And she is called Kathleen. 11 No skill hath she in household work, Her hands are soft and white, Yet well by loving looks and ways She doth her cost requite." So up they walked through Boston town, And met a maiden fair, A little basket on her arm So snowy-white and bare. " Come hither child, and say hast thou This young man ever seen ? " They wept within each other's arms, The page and young Kathleen. K AT II L E E N . 101 1 I ve to me this darling child, And lake my pui - I." N B \ bei in the place of one The Lord hath early t.i her heart 's in Ireland, We [ ■ bez back again ! " O, for that same the saints in b< a For hi- pool -"wl -hall pray, And M:iry Mother wash with tean l\< here** i away. Sure now they dwell in Ireland, Ai you L r «> nj) Claremore Yell see their castle looking down The pleasant Galway shore. And the old lord's wife ia dead and gone, And a happy man is he, For 1. tide bis own Kathleen, With her darling; on his knee. FIRST-DAY THOUGHTS. In calm and cool and silence, once again I find my old accustomed place among My brethren, where, perchance, no human tongue Shall utter words ; where never hymn is sung, Nor deep-toned organ blown, nor censer swung, Nor dim light falling through the pictured pane ! There, syllabled by silence, let me hear The still small voice which reached the prophet's ear ; Read in my heart a still diviner law Than Israel's leader on his tables saw ! There let me strive with each besetting sin, Recall my wandering fancies, and restrain The sore disquiet of a restless brain ; And, as the path of duty is made plain, May grace be given that I may walk therein, Not like the hireling, for his selfish gain, With backward glances and reluctant tread, Making a merit of his coward dread, — FIRST-DAY THOUGHTS. 103 But, cheerful, in the liirlit around me thrown, Walking us one to pleasant service ;• 1 1 G irill as if it w< ivn, Yet trusting not in mine, but in Hi> strength alone! KOSSUTH. 6 Type of two mighty continents ! — combining The strength of Europe with the warmth and glow Of Asian song and prophecy, — the shining Of Orient splendors over Northern snow ! Who shall receive him ? Who, unblushing, speak Welcome to him, who, while he strove to break The Austrian yoke from Magyar necks, smote off At the same blow the fetters of the serf, — Rearing the altar of his Father-land On the firm base of freedom, and thereby Lifting to Heaven a patriot's stainless hand, Mocked not the God of Justice with a lie ! Who shall be Freedom's mouth-piece ? Who shall give Her welcoming cheer to the great fugitive ? Not he who, all her sacred trusts betraying, Is scourging back to slavery's hell of pain The swarthy Kossuths of our land again ! KOSSUTH. 105 Not he whose utterance now from lips The bugle-march of Liberty to wind, And call hei tenth the breaking light, — The keen reveille of her morn of fight, — 1 note of the bloodhound's bay ing, The wolfs 1 ( > 1 1 lt howl behind the bondman's flight ! O for tin- tongue of him who Lies at rest In Quincy'a shade of patrimonial trees, — Last of the Puritan tribunes and the best, — To lend ■ voice to Freedom*! sympathies, And hail the coming of the nobli Which Old World wrong has given • N VI the W TO MY OLD SCHOOL-MASTER AN EPISTLE NOT AFTER THE MANNER OF HORACE. Old friend, kind friend ! lightly down Drop time's snow-flakes on thy crown ! Never be thy shadow less, Never fail thy cheerfulness ; Care, that kills the cat, may plough Wrinkles in the miser's brow, Deepen envy's spiteful frown, Draw the mouths of bigots down, Plague ambition's dream, and sit Heavy on the hypocrite, Haunt the rich man's door, and ride In the gilded coach of pride ; — Let the fiend pass ! — what can he Find to do with such as thee ? Seldom comes that evil guest Where the conscience lies at rest, TO MY OLD SCHOOL-MASTEK. 1 "7 Ami brown health and quiet wit SmiliiiLT on the threshold sit. I, the urchin onto whom, In that smoked and dingy room, V< ■ district i • rule 0'< i ed printer school, Thou didsl teach the n Of those weary \ B I I's, — Where, to fill the Of thy wise and Thr nu lo 1 and crazy wall Canoe the cradle-ro nail, And th( With hia shrill and tipsy wife, — Luring oa by stories old, With a comic unction told, Bfore than by the eloqm Of terse birchen srgumi 1 1 Mibtful gain, I fear), to look With complari i book ! — Where the geoial | Half forgot I Citing tale or apol J 08 TO MY OLD SCHOOL -MASTER. Wise and merry in its drift As old Phsedrus' two-fold gift, Had the little rebels known it, Risum et prudentiam monet ! I, — the man of middle years, In whose sable locks appears Many a warning fleck of gray, — Looking back to that far day, And thy primal lessons, feel Grateful smiles my lips unseal, As, remembering thee, I blend Olden teacher, present friend, Wise with antiquarian search, In the scrolls of state and church ; Named on history's title-page, Parish-clerk and justice sage ; For the ferule's wholesome awe Wielding now the sword of law. Threshing Time's neglected sheaves, Gathering up the scattered leaves Which the wrinkled sibyl cast Careless from her as she passed, — TO MY OLD SCHOOL-MASTER. Two-fold citizen art th< Freeman of th< i past and DOW. He who bore thy name of old .Midway in the heavens did hold G "ii moon and BUD ; Thou hast bidden them backward run; Of to-day the present r Flinging over yesterday ! L< t the bn leride What I deem of right thy pride ; I- ■ the fools their tread-mills grind, Look not forward nor behind, Shuffle in and wriggle out, \ r with every breeze about, Turning like a wind-mill sail, Or a d •.: thai » Its his tail ; Let them laugh to Tabernacled in the 1 V. rking out, with eye and lip, Kiddles of old penmanship, Patii'iit a- Belzoni there Sorting out, with Loving care, 110 TO MY OLD SCHOOL- MASTER, Mummies of dead questions stripped From their seven-fold manuscript ' Dabbling, in their noisy way, In the puddles of to-day, Little know they of that vast Solemn ocean of the past, On whose margin, wreck-bespread, Thou art walking with the dead, Questioning the stranded years, Waking smiles, by turns, and tears, As thou callest up again Shapes the dust has long o'erlain,— Fair-haired woman, bearded man, Cavalier and Puritan ; In an age whose eager view Seeks but present things, and new, Mad for party, sect and gold, Teaching reverence for the old. On that shore, with fowler's tact, Coolly bagging fact on fact, Naught amiss to thee can float, Tale, or sonsr, or anecdote : TO n V OLD ''MASTER. Ill Vill;i. ! old, told, What the pilgrim's tab] Where b usd whom he n I. - rawn bill of wine and b I i hiv ordination ch< Or the flip that well-nigh made his funeral carak \ Flavored by their age, like wii I. lint, I I '.htfol, puritanic saint ; 1 . J Wh \ v that, for mortal hour--, 1 '1 our fathers 1 vital po* \ - the long nineteenthlies poo Downward from»the sounding-board, And, for fire ! Tou»'liPtl their 1" ards D ml rt frost. 112 TO MY OLD SCHOOL- MASTER. Time is hastening on, and we What our fathers are shall be, — Shadow-shapes of memory ! Joined to that vast multitude Where the great are but the good, And the mind of strength shall prove Weaker than the heart of love ; Pride of gray-beard wisdom less Than the infant's guilelessness, And his song of sorrow more Than the crown the Psalmist wore ! Who shall then, with pious zeal, At our moss-grown thresholds kneel, From a stained and stony page Reading to a careless age, With a patient eye like thine, Prosing tale and limping line, Names and words the hoary rime Of the Past has made sublime ? Who shall work for us as well The antiquarian's miracle ? Who to seeming life recall Teacher grave and pupil small ? TO MY OLD SCHOOL-MASTER. 113 Who shall give to thee and me Freeholds in futurity I Well, whatever lot be mine, Long and happy day- be th Ere thy full ami honored Squire for master, Stat Wisely lenient, live and ru grown-up knave and roj Play the watchful peda Or, while pl< asure smili - on duty, At the call of youth and ill for them the spell of law Which shall l>ar and bolt withdraw, And the flaming sword i From tin' Paradise of Love. Still, with undimmed eyesight, pore Ancient tome r ; Still thy week-day lyrics croon, Pitch in church the Sunday tune, Showing something, in thy part, Of the old Puritanic art, Sinjrcr after Sternhold's heart ! 114 TO BIY OLD SCHOOL- MASTER. In thy pew, for many a year, Homilies from Oldbug hear, 7 Who to wit like that of South, And the Syrian's golden mouth, Doth the homely pathos add Which the pilgrim preachers had; Breaking, like a child at play, Gilded idols of the day, Cant of knave and pomp of fool Tossing with his ridicule, Yet, in earnest or in jest, Ever keeping truth abreast. And, when thou art called, at last, To thy townsmen of the past, Not as stranger shalt thou come ; Thou shalt find thyself at home ! With the little and the big, Woollen cap and periwig, Madam in her high-laced ruff, Goody in her home-made stuff, — Wise and simple, rich and poor, Thou hast known them all before ! N ' ' 1 1 . S . " Th'.u talndflt DM In r 1 "' The incident here referred to i- related iaai irdrs Henri Saint Piei I ■ - I Ai ••We arrived ut the habitation of the li -it down to their I irhik thej itchureh. .1. .1.1 for up our dei harm nhly beautiful. After hc ! the berndti with his h< ' At this i s:ii>l in the gospel II my MM, ///«'<• (///i / fa "<«■ Ml iotsl of i'i< ,7i. iirj o4 l happiness e bioh pa e soul.' I 1 If Pension bed lived, yon would ba?< itholio.' B claimed, with teen in i e alive, I struggle to L r '-t into his sen teg In my sketch of Saint Pierre, it will be seen th.it I here some- whet antedated the period of his old age. At thai time he was imt probebrj mote than fifty. In describing bias, I hare bj no menu ed hi< own history ofhii mental oonditi o a al the period of the story. En tip- fragmentary Sequel t<> hi* Stirl re, h<* thus speak- of himself : — " The ingratitude of tk whom 1 had deeerred kindness, nnexpeeted family i S 116 NOTES. the total loss of my small patrimony through enterprises solely undertaken for the benefit of my country, the debts under which I lay oppressed, the blasting of all my hopes, — these combined calamities made dreadful inroads upon my health and reason." " I found it impossible to continue in a room where there was com- pany, especially if the doors were shut. I could not even cross an alley in a public garden, if several persons had got together in it. When alone, my malady subsided. I felt myself likewise at ease in places where I saw children only. At the sight of any one walking up to the place where I was, I felt my whole frame agi- tated, and retired. I often said to myself, My sole study has been to merit well of mankind ; why do I fear them ? ' ' He attributes his impi*oved health of mind and body to the counsels of his friend, J. J. Rousseau. "I renounced," says he, .*' my books. I threw my eyes upon the works of Nature, which spake to all my senses a language which neither time nor nations have it in their power to alter. Thenceforth my histories and my journals were the herbage of the fields and meadows. My thoughts did not go forth painfully after them, as in the case of human sys- tems ; but their thoughts, under a thousand engaging forms, quietly sought me. In these I studied, without effort, the laws of that Universal Wisdom which had surrounded me from the cradle, but on which heretofore I had bestowed little attention." Speaking of Rousseau, he says : " I derived inexpressible satis- faction from his society. What I prized still more than his genius, was his probity. He was one of the few literary characters tried in the furnace of affliction, to whom you could, with perfect secu- rity, confide your most secret thoughts." " Even when he devi- ated, and became the victim of himself or of others, he could forget his own misery, in devotion to the welfare of mankind. He was uniformly the advocate of the miserable. There might be in- scribed on his tomb these affecting words from that Book, of which he carried always about him some select passages, during the last years of his life : * His sins, which are many, are forgiven, for he loved much.' " NOTES. 117 " Like that I I»r. li ' • ■ . ho aoeoiD] i - - \u>>n -11, thai describe! tlie appe ar ance of thai unknot ni'l lire, which WSJ H«-<-n in litii bain of mountains, ti • i bich, from it- 1, jM.int to tlw ocean, i i- covered with ererlastii "The water and the tkj .-■. or rath* i bine, than I h i d them in tin- tr i the inglj l eautiful i bich, when t 1 1 « * sun appro iched the !: tinti I with flame unbroken column! one ride jet-black, »!,«■ other giving - of the -mi, sometimes tun ■it of win i . ibing many mi'- - ghtened bj the c the guidance of our oommander, int.. 1 1 deemed practic tble, that it over i • our own comparative insijniifi- and bel] test time an indeacril able feelio the works of hui hand." The storming of the city of Derne, in l v I I n, at the head of nine Americans, tort v .,f Turk- and I - one of tl> - md <1 n-ing which have in :t t.-.i the admiration <>( the multitude. Tlu- higher and holier heroism of Christian sslMenial bos, in the humble w:dks of private du( It is pn ; -a the-.- iinee are tho joinl im promptu of my inserted I • rprcwtou of our 118 NOTES. admiration of the gifted stranger whom we have since learned to love as a friend. Note 5, page 96. Kathleen. This ballad was originally published in a prose work of the author's, as the song of a wandering Milesian schoolmaster. In the 17th century slavery in the New World was by no means confined to the natives of Africa. Political offenders and crim- inals were transported by the British government to the planta- tions of Barbadoes and Virginia, where they were sold like cattle in the market. Kidnapping of free and innocent white persons was practised to a considerable extent in the seaports of the United Kingdom. Note 6, page 104. Kossuth. It can scarcely be necessary to say that there are elements in the character and passages in the history of the great Hungarian statesman and orator, which necessarily command the admiration of those, even, who believe that no political revolution was ever worth the price of human blood. Note 7, page 113. " Ilomilies from Oldbug hear." Dr. TV , author of "The Puritan," under the name of Jon- athan Oldbug. BOOKS PUBLISHED BY TICKXOR, REED, AND FIELDS. JOHN G. WHiTTIER. OLD PORTRAITS AND MODERN SKETCHES. Contents: John Banyan, Thomas Ellwood, James Naylur, Andrew Man-ell, John Rob- erts, Samuel Hopkins, Richard Baxter, William Lepgett, Nathaniel P. Rogers, Robert Dinsmore. 1 vol. IGmo. 75 cents ; gilt, $ 1.25. "Whatever topic Whittier takes he handles with a master's hand. The por- traits of these sturdy men are sketched with fidelity. Their faults are not hidden from view, but their sturdy virtues are clearly revealed to the eye. Go to the publishers, purchase and read these thrilling portraits of some of the noblest men the world has seen, sketched by one of the purest writers and truest men of our times." — Republican. LEAVES FROM MARGARET SMITH'S JOURNAL in the Pro* ince of Massachusetts Bay, 1GTS-9. 1 voL IGmo. Paper, 50 cts. ; cloth, 75 cts. "The author has used his material skilfully, and in the exercise of that plastic faculty with which he is so highly gifted has wrought out a vivid portraiture of scenery, character, and manners in the old colonial age of Massachusetts. The style suits well to the character of a well-educated woman at that period, and the reader may imagine Margaret to be one of Whittier's ancestors, whose mental traits he has himself inherited. The book deserves praise as a work of art : it is instructive as well as entertaining ; and if any lady at the head of a family should happen on some evening to read from its pages for the pleasure of her husband, she would probably find all the children who may be over seven years of age eagerly listening." — Christian Watchman. SONGS OF LABOR, and other Poems. 1 vol. 16mo. 50 cents. " One of the finest expressions of the muse of one of America's most eloquent poets." — London Athen-eum. REV. HENRY GILES. LECTURES AND ESSAYS. Contents: Falstaff, Crabbe, Moral Philosophy of Byron's Life, Moral Spirit of Byron's Genius, Ebenezer Elliott, Oliver Goldsmith, Spirit of Irish History, Ireland and the Irish, the Worth of Liberty, True Manhood, The Pulpit, Patriotism, Economies, Music, The Young Musician, A Day in Springfield, Chatterton, Carlvie, Savage, and Dermody. 2 vols. l6mo. $ 1.50. "Those persons who have listened to the greater part of the contents of these two volumes, in the various lecture-rooms throughout the country, will probably be even more anxious to read them than many who have only heard the name of the author. They will revive in the reader the delightful wit, the clear, mental attraction, and the high pleasure which they uniformly excited on their deliver}'." — Examiner. CHRISTIAN THOUGHT ON LIFE. Contents : The Worth of Life, The Personality of Life, The Continuity of Life, The Struggle of Life, The Discipline of Life, Faith and Passion, Temper, The Guilt of "Contempt, Evangelical Goodness, David, Spiritual Incongruities, Weariness of Life, Mysteries in Religion and in Life. 1 vol. IGmo. 75 cents. " More glowing and thrilling productions were never committed to the press. The many friends and admirers of the eifted and popular lecturer will eagerly embrace the opportunity to obtain copies." — Thil. Gazette. EDWIN P. WHIPPLE. ESSAYS AND REYIEWS. A new edition. 2 vols. 16mo. £2. LECTURES ON LITERATURE AND LIFE. Contents : Authors in their Relations to life, Novels and Novelists, Charles Dickens, Wit and Humor, The Ludicrous Side of Life, Genius, Intellectual Health and Disease. Third edition I vol. IGmo. 69 cents. BOO; WD THE PRINCIPLES OF THE REVOLU- TION. 1 \ " .Mr. try ; an . . >\ lucb " Mr. tain. Hi- MTOeld I. .\'- !» • n :iT I: ::i- :i til It _ , ual nerve w bi< ii dutinfui >ii (ho — i.irT. CHARLES SPRACUE. POETICAL AND PROSE WK1 - r.im]i|. (•■ one in met M Tfcii is a vohuM t> pmmI bj i a*ry— iifully will toe UnM *o I GRACE GREENWOOD. GREENWOOD LE IVES. (;iit. - ; ' Tli<> nan • '. ' ! .\ r |*.piilar lit her in the very highest We all — a poem aa i i any thing to be found in all Grira \. \ . htiajton. M The fair autborw , th it it i- only neoaacaxj m annoui meroua readen It ■< is ornan in admirabh uithor, and is ■■ Hi.- beautiful rtyle :" r ivhich tlii- publUhinf h ■ommend i*. t.i the lovers of the I'm.' and Un I BOOKS PUBLISHED DY TICKNOR, REED, AND FIELDS. NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE. THE SCARLET LETTER. A Romance. Sixth thousand. 1 vol. lGmo. 75 cents. " In the deep tragedy of Hester Prynne's experiences we are borne through the pages as by an irresistible impulse — hardly stopping to notice the exquisite touches which are to be found in the midst of tlie most harrowing and distressing scenes. It is indeed a wonderful book ; and we venture to predict that no one will put it down before he reaches the last page of it, uidess it is forcibly taken out of his hands." — Salem Gazktte. THE HOUSE OF THE SEVEN GABLES. Sixth thousand. 1 vol. lCmo. $1. " Though we cannot do him justice, let us remember the name of Nathaniel Hawthorne, deserving a place second to none in that band of humorists whose beautiful depth of cheerful feeling is the very poetry of mirth. In ease, grace, delicate sharpness of satire, — in a felicity of touch which often surpasses the felicity of Addison, in a subtilty of insight which often reaches farther than the subtilty of Steele, — the humor of Hawthorne presents traits so fine as to be almost too excellent for popularity; as, to every one who has attempted their criticism, they are too refined for statement. The brilliant atoms flit, hover, and glance before our minds, but the remote sources of their ethereal light lie beyond our analysis, — ' And no speed of ours avails To hunt upon their shining trails.' " — E. P. Whipple. TWICE-TOLD TALES. A new and revised edition, with fine Por- trait. 2 vols. lGmo. $ 1.50. " This book comes from the hand of a man of genius. Every thing about it hag the freshness of morning and of May. A calm, thoughtful face seems to be look ing at you from every page " — N. A. Review. TRUE STORIES FROM HISTORY AND BIOGRAPHY. With fine plates. 1 vol. lGmo. 75 cents. A WONDER BOOK FOR BOYS AND GIRLS. With designs by Billings. 1 vol. lGmo. 75 cents. JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL. THE COMPLETE POETICAL WORKS. 2 vols. 16mo. Boards, $1.50; cloth, $1 75; cloth gilt, $2.50. " We regard Lowell as one of the truest poets of our age — as true to the high and holy teaching of the spirit of poetry — true to mankind and his God. He is also the poet of the future, casting his great thoughts out into the coming un- known, in the unshaken faith that they will spring up, and bear fruit a hundred fold. His works, to be as widely read as they deserve, should be in every dwell- ing in tiie land." — Portland Transcript. THE VISION OF SIR LAUNFAL. 1 vol. 16mo. 25 cents. HORACE MANN. A FEW THOUGHTS FOR A YOUNG MAN WHEN ENTERING UPON LIFE. A Lecture. Although tbis little work has been published but a short time, many thousand copies have been sold. 1 vol. 16mo. Cloth, 25 cents. " For plainness of speech, for strength of expression, and decision in stating what the writer believes to be the truth, this lecture may, be matched against any thing that ever came from the press." — Christian Examiner. PUBLISHED BY Til KNOR, REED, \M> FIELDS, GOETHE'S WORKS. THE PAUST. Translated bj Hayward. A new edition. 1 vol. l'illiu. 7."i < 1I1L-. WILHELM MEISTER'S APPRENTICESHIP AND TRAVELS. 'i i l in -j rob. J' •:. JOHN G. SAXE. lll'M lND SATIRICAL POEMS. I voL 1 " Mi Hill k Upon I \> ill. fur \ lii. b exhibited in aptitude. He give* us the comii el phase ol thins humor. He writes « hii li at once places him and in- reader on tr<«»t" Bailey— we think it was Elliott, • |kmi — that there was matter enough in tin- author <.r * Festuav to eel up fifty ind Alfred Tennyson wrote not long ago that be could scarce!] trust him self to sai bow much he admired I .-. i..r fear "t i >f !• < ling. Th< 1 «>k.-fi upon a« n il bad j < i - 1 come from the ■ .. and u it' i :ir~t u • upon it the I .kb. RICHARD MONCKTON MILNES. POEMS OF M V YEARS. . th, 83 " 'I in- tuthor, who I livided with Tennyson 1 1 i •- admiration and land.' i hi ii> nth pun ng in the \ 1 The I ' I mchine tliii We n< ■ igtitful child l i many ■ childlike man ii u • - i- t.«< i iisitivc not to ] HORACE AND JAMES SMITH. ■ I ED ADDR] - 'lrnm. ftom tl"- laal London ami notaa by the authors. I voL 1( ... " In -.1 .inn.' oni Ticknor >■» Co. bare certainly erinced u much judgment I the work bi I WABRENIANA, I i BARRY CORNWALL. ENGLISH edition, l vol. ir.ii: •. B8 a nth ■ thai ahoul -li-ll Which at all ; .1 I « i — on ii dom mii h- to lied." — i •• Th. i m idely known, t.«> Justh reviewed caaual I) now. In contemplating them, criti tion, wboee ipeech la rilence. We had intended onl tions from this glorious volume — (Ticult t<> maa Iready houaehold words to us alL 1 The S< >,' ' The Bunu i EPES SARGENT. SONGS OF THE BEA, with other l\>cm<. 1 vol. 16m rrii' Bta, " Mr. Bargi nt has an admirable faculty of description ; 1 re true and living, and never exaggerate I. Tin- most striking feature of his vei t ii'ii ; everj thing moves with him. His diction, too, n uncommon!) good. Hit i the Ocean Wave * is perfect j when we read it, we feel tin ruahing against our cheeks, and the blood atartia| is our veins, as theship tri- umphs over the e v ! . I ■ 8 BOOKS PUBLISHED BY TICKNOR, REED, AND FIELDS. HENRY THEODORE TUCKERMAN. POEMS. 1 vol. 16mo. 75 cents. " One of the purest writers in America." — London Leader. FANNY FORESTER. ALDERBROOK. A Collection of Fanny Forester's Village Sketches, Poems, &c. With a fine mezzotinto portrait of the author, en- graved bv Sartain. Ninth edition. Enlarged. 2 vols. 12mo. $1.75; gilt, $2.50; extra giit, $3.00. The same in 1 vol., $1.G2; gilt, $2.25; extra gilt, $2.75. " This is one of those charming books which well deserve a place in every family library, and which has already won a place in thousands of hearts. The sketches comprised in these beautiful volumes are so full of grace and tenderness, so pure in their style, and so elevated in their tone, that none can read them with- out delight and profit. We hazard little in saying that the touching story of 'Grace Linden,' which properly leads the collection, is scarcely surpassed in beauty by any thing in the works of Maria Edgeworth or Mary Russell Mitford. There are a great many other sketches in the volumes that deserve special praise, but we will not deal in particulars when all are so admirable." — So. Lit Gazette. THE SOLITARY OF JUAN FERNANDEZ, or the Real Robin- son Crusoe. By the Author of Picciola. Translated from the French by Anne T. Wilbur. 1 vol. 16mo. 50 cents. MEMORY AND HOPE. A beautiful volume, referring to child- hood. 1 vol. 8vo. $2.00. LIGHTS AND SHADOWS OF DOMESTIC LIFE, and other Stories. By 'lie authors of " Rose and her Lamb," " Two New Scholars," &c, &.?. Contents: Lights and Shadows of Domestic Life; The Secret of Happiness; Laura Seymour; The Intimate Friends; Shadows and Reali- ties ; Sketches of Character, or Who is Free ? 1 vol. IGnio. G2 cents CHARLES SUMNER. ORATIONS AND SPEECHES. "Another time perhaps shall come, worthier than our*, in which, hatreds being subdued. Truth shall triumph. With me desire this, O reader, and farewell!" — Leibnitz. 2 vols, lt'imo. $2.50. "We have Mr. Sumner's printed discourses before us, and can testify from personal knowledge to their singular merits. They are pregnant with thoughts of profound and universal interest. They are not productions to be laid aside with the occasion that called them forth, but to be preserved for our future in- struction and delight. They derive this quality, in a great measure, from those characteristics of the author's mind — his earnestness, the union of moral fear- lessness and intellectual caution in the statement of his opinions, and his rever- ence for original principles in comparison with popular custom or fashionable belief." — New York Tribune. : REED, Wit FIELDS 1 - 10 'J > witli :.. i Mlkvld or THOMAS DE QUINCEY. Till: WRn [NGS OP TH Vol- uiin-.s tin .i>ly published : — ' >ARS. ].; ii - »pii | i: i i BE, id I'm: II. 'i ,i :. Bl< .1- M ii.' m. Tub v I •• Who thai know - inj • i«, in ii m'i Uland, 'l around dj the n ■ I ,'unl tin' sin w uli ni'.-t r. m ureird like |"' loornful • I q depth of a if«inn- In urhii h the fount dm in n lin h tk I- ■ w lit) li 1 1 L > H Y G DR. GREENWOOD. SERN )LA l ION. By K \ 1 W P. 1». I".. M ■ [ion. 1 v.l. • •• \ '.■ tba .: •. . u uli. .lit .1 the universal I " 'I'll in. C. U i:> Chri :-\. rtli, 1). 1 . - " It i- natural thai the admirers of V raised t \;x ctatioiu : BLISHED BY Til KNOl 11 HEROIN! - OF THE MISSIONARY i SI 1 RPB • i Prominent I " n<-t Newell ; Ann II. J lii-nri- •'I B. JlldSTffl ily ('. Juda M. i roL I' in ■. i " This is mi'- of the moal that we bars Fff-n for ■ \< r 1 1 jreara. H " Knll «.i inti r. -t and r eompreheniivi , and . most touching yet ennobl ■ i »i ir instant ea >■! letnak devotion Salem ) A BOOS OF HYMN • D votiun. I Price • hi-. (II LPEL LITURGY. B rComi n 1 to the Uae • ' tiful edition, Ul octavo. | JUVENILE B00K8 JACOB ABQOTT. ". "With | • L8 A JUD With engravings. .i >NAS ON a FARM IN SUMMER With engmvii JONA FARM IN WINTER. With en^ravin^s. lSran. . D tLLIARD. Y atom in the Arctic LAMBERT LILLY'S HISTORY OF THE NEW I STATES. With numerous engrariaga. I8n IERT LILLY'S HISTORY OF THE MIDDLE STATES With sun HISTORY OF '! HE SOUTHERN STATES, Virginia, North and £ \ Inga. :its 12 BOOKS PUBLISHED BY TICKNOR, REED, AND FIELDS. LAMBERT LILLY'S HISTORY OF THE WESTERN STATES. With numerous engravings. 18mo. 38 cents. LAMBERT LILLY'S STORY OF THE AMERICAN REVOLU- TION. With numerous engravings. 18mo. 38 cents. MARY HOWITT'S BIRDS AND FLOWERS, and other Coun- try Things. With engravings. 12mo. 50 cents. OLYMPIC GAMES. A Gift for the Holidays. By the author of "Poetry for Home and School," &x. lCmo. 50 cents. PARLEY'S SHORT STORIES FOR LONG NIGHTS. With eight colored engravings. 16mo. 50 cents ; uncolored engravings, 40 cents. PARLEY'S SMALL PICTURE BOOKS, with colored frontis- pieces. Printed covers, i Eight kinds, assorted. $ 9 per gross. SCHOOL BOOKS BUMSTEAD'S SECOND READING BOOK IN THE PRIMARY SCHOOL. 18mo. 17 cents. BUMSTEAD'S THIRD READING BOOK IN THE PRIMARY SCHOOL. 18mo. 17 cents. EDWARD'S FIRST LESSONS IN GEOMETRY. By the author of " Theory of Teaching," " Poetry for Home and School," &c. 25 cent?. GOOD'S BOOK OF NATURE. Abridged from the original work. With questions for the use of schools and illustrations from original designs. 16mo. Half morocco, 45 cents. MURDOCH AND RUSSELL'S ORTHOPHONY; or the Cultiva- tion of the Voice in Elocution. New and improved edition. 1 vol. 12mo. Half morocco, embossed, 75 cents. PALMERS MORAL INSTRUCTOR. Part I. 18mo. 10 cents. PALMER'S MORAL INSTRUCTOR. Part II. 12mo. Half morocco, 25 cents. PALMER'S MORAL INSTRUCTOR. Part III. 12mo. Half morocco, 25 cents. PALMER'S MORAL INSTRUCTOR. Part IV. 12mo. Sheep, 50 cents. RUSSELL'S (WILLIAM) LESSONS AT HOME IN SPELLING AND READING. Two Parts in one. Square IGmo. 16 cents. H ' ■lU Hill