^. IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) A # .^ <^, ,^' ^'^/ A^"'. 4i, y. is. 1.0 I.I lU 20 1.8 1-25 1.4 1.6 < 6" ► v] ^^^^ ^> o /a / /A Photographic Sciences Corporation 23 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.V. 14580 (716) 872-4503 m V :\ V V \ 6^ CIHM/ICMH Microfiche Series. CIHM/ICMH Collection de microfiches. Canadian Institute for Historical Microreproductions / Institut canadien de microreproductions historiques Technical and Bibliographic Notas/Notas tachniquas at bibliographiquaa Tha Inttituta has attamptad to obtain tha bast original copy availabia for filming. Faaturas of this copy which may ba bibliographically uniqua, which may altar any of tha imagas in tha raproduction, or which may significantly changa tha usual mathod of filming, ara chaclcad balow. 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Th( to Th( PO! of filr on bei the sio oti fin sic or Th shi TIf w^ Mi dif en^ bei rig ret mc This item is filmed at the reduction ratio checked below/ Ce document est filmi au taux de reduction indiqu6 ci-dessous. 10X 14X 18X 22X 26X 30X J 12X 16X 20X 24X 2SX 32X The copy filmed here hes been reprc foiiiiiiioii of Canada, in the year one thousuml I'ight humhed and eighty-one, by J. R. Newell, in the Ottice of tlie Minister of Agriculture. Printed a5d Bound Br Hi'imtK, Ro8K & Company. INTRODUCTION. The hopes, the fears — the virtues and the crimes. The joys, the woes — realitios and dreams, The loves, the tumults — shadows and the gleams Of pa>>t and present, constitute my rhymes, Which echo back the songs of other times, And catch the hues and momentary beams Of long-forgotten days, wliose lightness seems Unreal thus in unimpassioned climes. But Thou, my own Miucenas, in whose truth My soul confides, wilt never deem it vain In me so many houra thus to have spent ; For here survive the better dreams of youth, And here dead hopes and fancies live again, To cheer tli ' wildurness of discontent. h Sc T% |aiiric»I. THE TIMES. A SATIRE. " () (fCMl ! that onu might read the book of fate, And Hee the revulutiou of the tiraen." Shaketpeare. I. How wonderful — how excellent the plan Of Him who formed the master mind of man, Filled him with wisdom, taught him reason's power. Trained his imaginations how to soar, Made him a paragon — creation's pride — Lord of himself, and of the world beside ! Yet little better than the beasts that roam The mountain fastness from their desert home. Had not the gift of language taught his tongue To speak the thoughts which thro' his bosom throng, And cheer the desolation of the heart With words of cheer that still new life impart ; Or, in affection's soft and liquid strain, Love and love's sweetness on the spirit rain 10 THE TIMES. In tones of passion — murmurs of the soul, That break the bonds of reason's weak control ; Or, in the clarion notes of hope awake The songs of freedom, and the bosom shake With thrill on thrill of ecst Of Him who whispers in the breeze, And thunders forth from sua to sun. D iP I. i .^• I' f; I Mi IJV MEMORIAM. It is enough that He is wise, That He but speaks, and it is done ; We are but creatures of His own, And He who makes may break our ties. His mercy is on them that fear — Ev'n to the froward He is kind : Far sooner would He loose than bind, When darker days are drawing near. Tho' we, in youth s impulsive morn. Reject the light that wisdom brings • Still mercy folds her dewy wings. And chides us to a safe return. III. The law of retribution lives : — To sin against the light of truth. To think that wisdom dwells with youth, To laugh at mercy's kind reprieves ; Upon the dangerous height to run. Then hurry down the deep ravine Oh God ! Thou knowest what has been, And yet wilt show us what we've done. The infant hand that toys with flame Is burnt, and knowledge is not given • And so the judgments of high Heaven Come down for sins we can not name. i'l "'*''^'CMV?sy;.TK.. IN MEMORIAM. To doubt and thus perform is sin, Sin ever doubts and is not sure ; But truth forever shall endure When future worlds their years begin. IV. 43 Thy youth was froward, and thy heart Was pregnant with impulsive zeal : Thou didst not, and thou could'st not, feel That peace may wane and hope depart. Thou saw'st the present hour alone, Nor judged the future by the past, Nor far around thy glances cast. To see what selfish zeal had done. Ah ! what is hope, when simple truth — When wisdom leaves the wavcrinir heart ? In after years what thoughts will start, That mourn the follies of our youth ! The violent attachments formed. When reason leaves the troubled scene, May live until a day has been, When danger finds us quite unarmed. Too soon — alas ! too soon — 'twis found Thy hope was but a meteor driven By night across a troubled heaven, While storm winds sadly moaned around. IP IN MEMORIAM. But thou art Scafe, — and where the blast Howls deepest thro' the lonely glade, Thy careworn form is lowly laid, At last in quiet sleep — at last ! I?i r % I ■i •:\ ii. ; V. I think on all thou might'st have been ; I think on all that thou wert not ; And ever with the veering thought So veer the shadowy forms between. One ray the more, one cloud the less. Had shown thy feet a better road. Had saved thee from the pressing load, Which only now hath ceased to press. Why was that little ray denied ? Why interposed that little cloud ? And why did wisdom cry aloud. And no responsive voice replied ? ' Oh ! I could weep — but tears are vain, And I could sigh — but sighs are void ;— I look around at eventide. And, lo ! thou comest not again ! VI. There where the bird of night is heard. And nature sheds no charms around,- IN MEMORIAM. Where man, to sudden anger stirred, Would desecrate thy hallowed mound, — Tiiere, in that desolate retreat, Thou'st found that rest which life denied ; W^hile we, in mournful words, repeat The mournful tale that thou hast died. So young ! — we start to think thee dead, — And yet 'tis well that thou art gone ; For thou enough of tears hast shed, While grief's dark days dragged slowly on. Enough of silent grief was thine, Enough of sad, repining thought ; And when thou didst the roses twine, There were the cypress boughs enwrought. Rest now, as after deepest toil The wayworn wanderer sinks to rest ; Rest, where at least heaven's sunbeams smile, And shed their brightness o'er thy breast. Rest, while the orphans' bitter tears In after days in silence fall ; Rest, till the tides of rolling years Have swept their slumberous waves o'er all. 4o / ^^ mi f I { ^ottttets. SONNETS TO WINTER. There is a pleasure in these solitudes, These snow-clad summits tell of winter's reign. The tempest gathering sweeps the whitened plain, And binds in icy chains the silent floods. In such reclusive spot, where nought intrudes To throw around the soarincf thouixhts a chain, I feel enjoyment in this bleak domain, A solemn pleasure in the leafless woods. Tho' nature's charms are now in embryo. Yet none may winter's loveliness define : — The mighty winds, that thro' the branches blow, And bend alike the shrub and spiral pine. The fields, the plains, the mountains clad in snow, — These all are winter's — and, fair Nature, thine. The sun far slanting to the southern sky. And dimly gliding from the east to west, Makes night a prolonged interval of rest. SONNET. - And day a scene that doth unheeded Hy. Ev'n now the livelong evening-, drawingr nisfh, Shuts out the day like an excluded guest ; And on the far horizon's crimson crest The beams of day in waning splendour die. See from the silent yet inclement heaven The evening star peeps forth in radiance bright ; And twinkling coldly o'er the brow of even, Smiles on the aspect of a wintry night, To which its cold unwarming ray is given, Ere in the western sky it sinks from sight. 47 SONNET. Yes 1 if 'twere any common love that warms My breast, — if 'twere a momentary glow Of transient passion, veering to and fro, Then fading, I might scorn these vague alarms. And woo some other fair one to my arms. Forgetful of the past — but is it so ? Oh, Penury and Love, my double foe, How have ye 'reft me of life's better charms ! Away — away, my idle dreams — no more, Ye fitful shades, surround me ! What is all That hope has given, when I now recall The days — the months — the years I've seen pass o'er ! Brought forth in evil days, o'er wrongs to brood, Doomed to abide a fate that makes life solitude ! 11 48 TO AUTU^fN. .A WARNING. I've told her of a time that is to come, When she wouki, willing', lend a list'nin«- ear Unto a voice that then she will not hear, A voice that then forever must be dumb ; Not in the silence, yet, nor in the hum Of life's arena must that voice be near, To whisper to her—" Wherefore dost thou fear ? " i'.las ! the day is coming, and when some Can smile at folly as it glides along. One may lament o'er folly that is past ; One may chide, with her feelings and her tono-ue The days her scene was in delusion cast ; — But chide not, dear one, now : This simple song . To thee shall be my dearest, — and my last. TO AUTUMN. ■; The touch of Autumn paints the forest trees, And loads the orchards with a golden store ; The ripened corn is bending down before The sickle of the husbandman— the breeze Brings to the ears the gladsome symphonies Of honest labour on the spreading moor And upland slope, where bubbling streamlets pour Their gradual tides down mild declivities. The incense of the earth ascends to heaven UNREST. Aini«l tlie clouds that, ImniislitMl far aloiiur In crimson grandeur, docj)enin<^ still appear : Oh ! let the rich abundance that is jjiven Invoke a thankful, universal song, To greet this glorious season of the year ! 49 UNREST. On! that the mind were pliant to desire, That deep desire for sweet forgetfulness ; Nor thus keep wakeful vigils o'er the press • Of cumherous thoughts that surge, and never tire. Ah ! weary life, thy dull Promethean fire In silence waxes dim and motionless, — A sinking liame, that dwindles less and less. To leave but ashes and a funeral pyre. And is this living ? No, this is not life ; Life moves, and breathes, and feels at least the force Of joy V\ sorrow ; but this slumb'rous gloom Is more than death, and speaks inniiortal strife In him who seeks for truth from whate'er source, And would anticipate yet dread tb : tomb ! >.'V.'\."V.'V.>.\V'\.WXV%.V\.V 50 PREDESTINA TION. PREDESTINATION. << T ruERE's a Divinity that shapes our ends Rough-he>v them how we will." The man of men Thus sagely wrote, with that prophetic ken Piercing into the mystery that bends Time and eternity — life — death — and sends Creative fire thro' worlds of chaos, when Confusion in wiM diarchy again Is reigning, and where hope no meteor lends. Un.seen a Master Hand directs and guides The winding course of life's mysterious flight Thro' shades unholy and abiding night. Where solemn darkness hovers and abid^... There's a Divinity ? Ah ! doubt it not, — A mystery revealed — a God of thought. '|l« •«^^ 1 •► [ttt00r»pl^8. When far away from those we love, And changing lif , at each remove, Dissolves a pleasing dream, How dear the mem'ry of the day. When we were young, when life was gay, And basked in pleasure's beam. One word to tell us what we were, One name that brings us back to where Our purest words were spoken, — One touch of nature, — these we prize Far into age, and bless the ties That never shall be broken ! Take my wish that thou may'st be Old in youth and young in age, Blending thus to one degi'ee All the virtues that engage, — Blending thus the dreams of youth With the fuller dreams of truth. !H 52 TO MRS. S. Rule by your smile, and conquer not with words, Preferment oft to silence is a debtor ; Jar not with the harmony of life's frail chords, And promise well — performing, which is better. INTRODUCTORY. WRITTEN IN A LADY'S ALBUM. Let no unchaste, unhallowed thoufrht These now unsullied pages blot ; Here may the hopes of Love be seen, And Friendship use no blinding screen ; So may humanity express God's image here in perfectness. Be like the dove that to the ark The peace-branch bore o'er troubled seas To souls berefu, to bosoms dark. Be thou a messenger of peace. \l. I " TO MRS. S. Live well to-day — to-morrow has not come ; Grasp every virtue, centring it at home ; " Still in thy right hand carr^^ gentle peace,"* * Henry viil., Act iii., Scene ii. s, sr. TO E. And let thy wisdom with thy years increase. So shall thy life a glorious work perform, And calmly meet the tumults of life's storm ; Till heaven thy hope, in smiling majesty, Opens its everlasting gates to thee ! 53 TO E. Among the many names that here In mem'ry's record shine, Of those that are accounted dear, . Forever there be mine ; For whatsoe'er thy fate may be, ' Or whatsoe'er my sphere, One heart shall truly think of thee, And hold thy memory dear. Live not only for the present, Live for days that are to come ; Let the days of youth be pleasant. Soon enough there will be gloom. In the vale of life deal kindness To the universal throng : She but lives a life of blindness, Who unaiding glides along. 54 TO A WITTY YOUNG LADY. TO K. Be hopeful and young thro' the days that are coming, Be thoughtful, yet cheerful, in all that you do ; While others in petulant sighs are consumincr, Conform to the fate that is destined for you, Let the morrow take thought for the ' ngs of the moriow, Enough that to-day you have cauao to rejoice ; Life's day is too brief to be trifled in sorrow O'er dreams for the future that dubiously rise. TO A WITTY YOUNG LADY. She has beauty, and wit, and acuteness, and tact, Plays euchre expertJy with bowers all stacked ; She dances, makes repartees, comes as she goes. And has forty-nine strings to her forty-nine beaux ! Dare to be good, dare to be just and true, Dare to do right, and what thou darest — do ; Dare all things for true womanhood, and teach That they who practise well need seldom preach. Let others wish that wealth, And luxury, and ease, may still possess you : I wish you goodness, happiness, and health, And still withal — God bless you. TO MISS 00 When the Destinies, compiling All their ills for hapless man, Ceased their labours, blandly smiling O'er the wreck they dared to plan, Nemesis, the fury, laughing Cried: "Come forth, thou crowning woe!" And some liquid brimstone quaffing, Made an album. — and a beau ! TO MISS In after years, when far awav From all that meets thine eye to-day, If thou perchance should read what here Thy friend has written, and a tear Should fall for long-departed years. Full of alternate hopes and fears. Oh ! then amid those memories, "Which come like odours on the breeze, Let one true friend's remembrance wake The dreams that age can never break. So shall I live on mem'ry's page. Unsullied by the dust of age, Content tho' others know me not, If thou but give that passing thought To him who shall remember thee As one bright star of memoiy. 1 p> s J ! I hitt ^otms. A PRAYER FOR ENGLAND. |;1 a^rittcn March, 1878, when Englatid ivas about dedarhuj war against Bnssia. m\ Oh God of battles ! in whose hand The nations of the earth appear But as the tiny grains of sand The billows wash from year to year, — Look down upon thy chosen race, Look down on freedom's royal home ; And from the hearts of freemen chase The dread of reckonings yet to come. Confound the plots of native foes. Crush down the traitor and the slave, Who yet would live to be of those Who'd dance upon their country's gi^ave. A PRA YER FOR ENGLAND. And curs'd be he whose craven heart WouM dare disown a Briton's zeal, When trumpets call, and echoes start, And battle thunders, peal on peal ! Avenge, oh Lord ! avenge the wrong That enemies would consummate ; And make the throne of Enofland strong In conscious might and rojal state. Still may Victoria's virtuous throne Be freedom's stay and valour's shrine, Till earth's remotest lands have known That we are hers, and she is thine. God bless the valiant and the brave, "Who for the dear old land go forth, To find in foreign lands a grave. Or live to be the pride of earth ! May Englishmen be English still. Such as their fathers were of yore, Till grasping despots doubly feel The wrath they oft have fled before. Then shall the nations of the earth Have freedom's ensigns all unfurled ; And peace and plenty shall go forth As guardian angels o'er the world ! 57 fr* 58 TO A^ YOUNG FRIEND. TO A YOUNG FRIEND. " I cannot but remember such things were, That were most precious to me." Macbeth. My dear young friend, when I return To former L^cenes again, Thou'lt be afar, and I shall mourn Thine absence there in vain. Two fleeting years have gone, and we Are severed now — some dreams of thee Alone with me remain, — Some dreams that I shall cherish long. When highest hopes around me throng. The days were bright, those vanished days. And brighter they appear, As to the past I turn my gaze, And check th' unconscious tear. Alas ! until the flowers decay We value not their bright array, Nor mark the changing year ! But when the blasts of winter come, In vain we dream of summer's bloom. But we ivere friends, and tho' to mo Thou'rt but a lovely dream, How bright the thought that memory Has nothing to redeem ! Not one harsh word, nor one rebuke, A DITTY. Nor cruel jest, nor envious look, Ruffled life's quiet stream — A glorious record this, and worth All the false vanities of earth. If thou should'st ever need a friend, (And faithful friends are few) Thy woes, thy griefs to me commend, As I to thee would do ; And should I wrong the sacred trust, May swords of conscience deeply thrust My perjured bosom thro', Who thus, thro' false and subtle zeal, Would darkly speak, and feign to feel. May He who rules all destiny Grant thee to live in peace, Free as the woodland warblers— free, When fast the days increase ; — And one shall look with joy upon Thy future welfare — truly one Shall never, never cease To hold up trembling hands, and bless The God who grants thee happiness ! 69 A DITTY. Dear Em, I am sitting and dreaming — Yes, sitting and dreaming of you, While the lamp-light is fitfully gleaming, And at times in the stillness bums blue, B if CO ^ DITTY. The shadows grow darker and deeper, And tremblingly dance on the floor ; And I think it is sad for the sleeper, Who has nothing to do but to snore ! In the stillness of night comes the rustle Of sounds that some sleeper creates With a facial twitch, and a tussle With nose, and with mouth, and the fates. Alas ! he has no sunny vision To shroud him in fairyland gleams ; And he knows not the glori 'TwiXT thee and me may there abide A deep and sure fidelity, A faith that other days have tried, A faith that hallows me and thee. Faith lives not in the earnest word Soon spoken — haply soon forgot ; , But faith will dare, has ever dared, The touch of time, the sway of thought. Faith made me thine, faith gave me thee, Faith scatters flowers on life's dark road ; And but a few more years shall be, Till faith shall guide us home to God. A YOUTHFUL REMINISCENCE. Quid jam misero mihi deniqiie reatat ? " — ViROIL. I've spent my life in bootless dreams, And burnt the " midnight oil," To reillume hope's waning beams. And brighten fortune's smile ; And what have I achieved by this ? :i. ■ A YOUTHFUL REMINISCENCE. A mystic dread — a gloominess, That nothing can heguile, — As dark reality that all My projects to the ground must fall. There was in other days a light That shone upon my way, And seemed to guide my feet aright— I seemed not then astray : Then what a tremor thrilled my ten*, — ^ How happy was I then— how blest, — How passed the night and day ! Ev'n disappointment seemed to be A triumph for futurity. How wildly then I sang the song, Which, fondly I believed. Would to the end of time prolong My fame — to be achieved ! Yes — such was my impulsive thought ; For what will youth endeavour not, In simpleness deceived ? 'Tis like the boat that vainly braves The anger of the mountain waves. Yet were those days of hope as bright, With their ideal joy. As tho' renown from giddy height Had beckoned me on high ! I cared not for the praise of man ; — ■ 75 reus t i M ml irr % 76 n A YOUTHFUL REMINISCENCE. For I could future ages scan, With a prophetic eye, And see the gh)ry of my name Hiirh o'er the countless hosts that came ! Then — then I sang the songs of love, That would immortal be ; And thought how much they should approve, Who won a song from me ; — For were not they henceforth to join The few of glory, and to shine In immortality ; Nor sink like common dust to nought, Alike forgetting and forgot I But they were heedless to my song, Or praised it but to please — Oh ! how I pitied them who'd wrong- Such heaven-born svmnhonies ! They had, I thought, but little claim To be associates of my fame ; — But yet, by slow degrees, I pardoned them their errors done, To taunt them when the goal was won. Oh, that the spell did ever break ! Oh, dreams to be no more ! All — all in life would I forsake. To dream them o'er and o'er, — BRUillT VISIONS OF liOYHOOD. To know that innocence again, That felt not nor imparted pain ; 'Twerc sweeter far to soar Forever in ideal bliss, Than court a frownini; world like this I 77 BRIGHT VISIONS OF BOYHOOD. Bright visions of boyhood, and dreams long departed, Hopes, high and auspicious, how are ye undone ? Oh ! the world has its thousands who cheerfully started To end in despair when their journey is run. The bird of the forest, the lark of the meadow. Depart when the tempests of winter draw near ; But man, thro' life's dubious sunshine an