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Tous las autres exempleires origineux sont filmte en commenpent par la pramlAre pege qui comporte une empreinte d'impression ou d'iilustretion et en terminent par la darnlAre pege qui comporte une telle empreinte. Un des symboies suivonts apparaltra sur Is derniAre imege de cheque microfiche, selon le cas: le symboie — »• signifie "A SUIVRE", le symbols ▼ signifie "FIN". Les cartes, pisnches, tebleeux. etc., peuvent Atre fllmis A dfrj teux de rMuction diffirents. Lorsque le document est trop grend pour Atre reproduit en un seul ciichi, il est film* A pertlr de I'engie supirleur geuche. de g»uche h droite. et de heut en bas, en prenarit le nembre d'images nicessaira. Les diagrammes suivants lilustrent la mithode. 1 2 3 1 2 3 4 5 6 w- ■y 1 1 H vV^ V /^ \£ !■*■ . .^^-J. ^ - /^^/b ^^ /if^^hr ^?h-e & ^^^ POEMS: BY nhnii^ Enntna IJJju. . ■ . ' .,■"/■'•'■'' '■■•.'■ )■■" ' . ;■'■:•>;■- SOUTHAMPTON: FORBES AND PITTMAN, ^ 143, HIGH-STREET. 1857. % •SUiUMUi^ t n-\. i SfSS*** H ii M i ||il l . M ww"»www^^^»»Pi ^■m.#!i'"i'wi, !gwi^^^a ?*i ?*« -^^ ,.<" 'f! -t /-. 'i-;. i '-i|:tt: To MY Dearest Friend, CAROLINE GIFFARD PHILLIPSON. ■^e To THEE, the loveliest, best on earth, These simple lays, of little worth, I dedicate : oh ! let them be A touchstone to thy memory. That when wide space shall us divide. In fancy I may by thy side Still wander. Time sad changes brings, As on, with never-resting wings. He flies ; and who can say if we again Shall meet amidst earth's scenes of pain Or bUss ; but, come what will, my heart With love for thee shall never part ; But through all changes, chances, time. Thy lovely form, thy soul sublime. In purity and truth shall be As some bright distant star to me. Whose rays shall ever have the pow'r To cheer and bless when night-skies low'r ; And when for me the sun doth shine, I'll guide its rays to thee and thine. i* 1 iY. ij ' .» 4 H^^' QUI, t am* k m m i ,- « l Ofc «' i.n »»tMi>.- ' ,1 j; .'?;',' -',i-"i^ V , i*) V^4i > > I^R' . ^^^MMf''' >«#»»„ .'■«v?*^;'i'' 2 •^ / «- '• ' V "rill' ^ DEDICATION. TO TO V '■'% • •• *** »»» • •• • •• TO MABT THE BEMONSTRANCE WORDS OF SADNESS TO E NAY ! TAKE THEM HENCE LINES TO A FRIEND STANZAS LINaS • • t • * • LINES TO A FRIEND STANZAS A CANADIAN TALE STANZAS NAY, LET ME WEEP STANZAS ON FINDING A WITHERED LEAF IN MY ROOM STANZAS ... ... FAST I FEEL MY SOUL IS FLEETING LilN£jS ••• ••• ••• oh! SAY, MY HEART, WHY ART THOU SAD? LINES WRITTEN ON CHRISTMAS NIGHT, 1855 OH, HAPPINESS ! IN VAIN, IN VAIN • • . • •♦ • •• .*• .. • ... , •*» • *• . • •.• Page 8 « 10 12 13 15 16 29 30 3! 33 34 35 36 38 39 41 ww^smmsif'iiifmii*' '' .wtwu-x'^w., ■. 1,1 Mia* I IKDEX. w • •• • •t *•• • •• • •• • *• • •• • « • • •• • • t TO-MOBROW! THE REQUEST THE ANSWER THE DREAM , ... STANZAS LOOSE ! LOOSE ! THE WHITE SAIL ! LlN£S ••• ••• «i STANZAS STANZAS I'll THINK OF THEE ! STANZAS xiOf £ «•• ••• «« childhood's days XilNfiS ••• ••• •• oh ! MY LITTLE FLOATING PALACE THE ocean's dead ... BTANZA8 oh! BRIGHT IS THE DAY, AND FAIR, DEAil LOVfi ' STANZAS TO — -^^— — ,,, ,,, •♦• STANZAS ... ... . ii. AO ^— ^^-^— ^^^ ^^^ ^,, A FBAY£ilv ••• ••• ••*' A BARK o'er THE WATERS SPED GAILY AT MORN STANZAS oh! WHERE MAY NOT SORROW ENTER? XjXNEjS ••• ••• ••• ••• death's stream 1 think of thee UNA THINGS MOST DEAR MUST CHANGE • •• • •• ii. A*^;-' • •• I MAY SING A MERSt OT*AIN WHAT SHALL I SING? '»>?•■ Page 43 44 44 45 46 47 48 60 61 53 63 65 56 67 58 50 60 61 6a 64 65 67 69 70 72 73 75 76 78 80 87 89 90 mmmmmm \\ INDEX. STANZAS .„ A FRAYEB ... LINES when ? oh ! when ? the summebs's death woman's love STANZAS .«• 'tis sweet, 'tis bless'd, to meet STANZAS HARK ! ON MY EAB HEART-WORN AND WEABY TO • ,„ OH, LITTLE YE BECK LINES WHY SHOULD TEAB8 AND SIGHS? ONCE I LOV'd THEE MADLY TO THE AUTUMN WIND's LAMENT LINES THY NAME ALONE, ALONE ! STANZAS THE SEASONS A FRAGMENT PRAYER TO V,.. TO C- THE DYING WIFE AOAIN • •• Page 92 • •• 93 ••• 95 , 97 • •» 98 !♦•• 100 ¥99 • • • 101 103 1 1 1 106 • •• 106 ♦ •• 108 • •• 110 • •• 111 • ( t 112 • • • 114 • t • 116 t«* 117 • •• 118 •P* 120 • • • • • • idi 128 t •• • •• 125 126 • • • 198 129 • • • 180 • • ■ • • • 181 188 • ! s/N 'r4 t' ■WA■i'^• -/rmn -,t''.v ,■•{ ivif >M' '5 :zf''' > 'f--^^f^ ^■X' .:}/ , 7(. Aij' V,' >'[■ F<0>i .'y,;-.i i, L. I 'I ; TO ^ 'V^^/X/V^V/V^^ '^'^^ ; r.V/ .;■•.)'!■ ;. '.'0 \; Oh, could I weave thy thread of life, How bright thy lot should be, — A sunny chain, each link a flower Of hope, and memory. ^ ' Thy past should leave not one regret, Thy future, brightly loom ; Thy present, sweetly, calmly glide. Devoid of mist or gloom. ^ ■' • No looking back, with shrinking heart. Nor forward, with a sigh ; No hourly, daily iU, should cloud Thy star of destiny. Ah ! vain the wish, a lot like this Was ne'er to mortal given ; 'T would bind the heart too close to earth- Unfit the soul for Heaven. S s i ;!" 1; ■ B 2 The ills of life are wisely sent, Thy God afflicts in love ; And when a cloud o'ershades thy path. Then raise thy thoughts above. Bend to the stroke in mercy dealt, Thy good it has in view. And o'er thy daily, hourly life. Thy watchfiilness renew. We soon must part, alas ! too soon Our friendship be dissolved ; But Memory often shall recall These hours we so have loved. The future's hurrying to the past, E'en moments may not stay ; Without a rest, without a pause. On, on, Time wings his way. And when for us his course is o'er, For us life's sands are run. In realms above may we renew The friendship here begun. Sorrow, those realms shall not invade. No sad farewells be spoken, No sighs — no tears — but holy love, And joy remain unbroken. Halifax, N. S., 1852. TO There 's a shadow falling on our hearts, And a whisper on our ear, TeUing in sad, low murmurs. That the parting hour is near. It comes like the winds low sobbing. That warns of a storm at hand Like the wailing of the ocean, Washing some lonely strand. It tells of a coming morrow, A morrow when thou shalt be Far out on the path that leads thee To thy home beyond the sea. We may not prevent thy going, Or bid thee longer stay, iJut with tearfixl, trembling voices, Bid " God speed thee " on thy way. Oh ! our hearts will oft be with thee, As the waters bear thee on, And the present be forgotten In the thoughts of hours long gone. Fare-thee-well ! to Him who holdeth Storms and calms in His right hand, Wo commit thee ; may He guide thee. Safely to thy native land ! Halifax, N. S , 1852. TO MARY. Oh ! Sister, stay not long away, Our hearth is drear and lone. Our yearning hearts would bid thee back, And weep that thou art gone. We miss thy song at twilight hour — That hour we loved the best — When thy sweet voice swelled on the ear. Lulling the heart to rest ! Calming ekch tumult of the soul. In accents soft and low, I hear the echo ling'ring yet. Sister, why didst thou go ? We miss thee in our hours of mirth. And when our hearts are sad. Ah ! then we miss the strength of thine That oft made sorrow glad ! Oh ! every hour we miss thee more, Life's billows fret and foam. All things are changed when thou'rt away. Dear sister, hasten home. Halifax, N. S., 1852. THE REMONSTRANCE. Faint heart ! wherefore dost thou tremble ? Thou hast often longed to go. Wherefore, as thine hour is nearing, Dost thou shrink, and tremble so ? Thou hast sorrow'd, oh I hew deeply, Why, then, would'st thou turn away, From thy deep and quiet resting ? Why here longer would'st thou stay ? .••X Have thy hopes not all been blighted ! Those dear hopes that dflide thy Ufe ! Wherefore would'st thou struggle longer, Warring 'gainst the unequal strife ? Life can have for thee no pleasure — Wherefore cling so to thy hold ! Troubles ever rise to meet thee. In a world so false and cold. In the grave come hide thy sorrows. There thy head shall rest in peace, And thy frail and sufF'ring body Find from pain a blest release. Words that bring such bitter anguish. There, shall fall on heedless ears ; Sighs, that fill the heart to bursting — Finding no relief in tears — There, for ever shall be banished, From thy deep, and quiet rest ; Each quick pulse, there cease its throbbing, All be holy, calm, and blest. Come ! oh ! wherefore longer tarry ? Turn not shudd'ring from the brink, Every tie has now been broken That to life thy soul would link. Halifax, N. S., 185'2. WORDS OF SADNESS. Words of sallness ! words of sadness ! Telling soon that friends nmst part. Crushing all our joy and gladness, Bringing sorrow to the heart, — Telling of a home, far distant, Where, alas ! thou soon must dwell. Words of sadness ! oh ! why come ye, Thus to break the happy spell That around our life has gathered, And from which we now must wake,- Wake to hear that sad word spoken, That from life so oft doth take All of joy, and ever sadness With it brings, e'en when it comes On the ear from voices loved not In our hearts, and in our homes. But when voices we have cherish'd, And with joy so oft have heard, 1 1 t '^M^ In the last sad hour of meeting, Breathe that dread and blighting word, Then in accents faint and falt'ring, Comes the sound that bids us part, And the echo of that murmur Falls undying, on the heart ! Halifax, N. S. toe- God speed thy gallant bark, dear love ! God speed thy gallant bark ! And guard thee in the daylight, And guard thee in the dark : And give thee fair and gentle winds, To waft thee o'er the sea ! Though each breath that swells thy canvas Will bear a sigh from me. Spithead, March I7th, 1855, 8 NAY! TAKE THEM HENCE. Nay ! take them hence, my heart is sad- Nor gem8 nor flowers 111 wear — They cannot please me now, nor stem The sadly-falling tear ! These glitt'ring things are only meant, To deck the bright and gay, The sorrowing heart they seem to mock, In all their rich array ! What care I now whose eyes behold ? He is not here to see. And praise from other lips is cold, Unsought, unloved by me ! Oh ! tell me not I mmt be gay — My tears I miist restrain ! — How can I smile or cheerful be Until he come again. Then deck my hair with gem and flower — Then, when my heart is glad ; But now I bid thee take them hence — My heart — my heart is sad. July, 1855. LINES TO A FBIEND. Not purer is the mountain breeze, That sweeps o'er heather'd hill, Nor purer in its sparkling drops The sweetly-murmuring rill — Not purer is the dew that laves The violet in its dell, Nor purer is the pearl that lies Beneath the ocean's swell — Not purer is the spotless robe The valley lily wears. Nor purer nightingale's sweet note Entrancing hst'ning ears — Not purer perfume of the rose, Just wash'd by summer rain. Nor purer dreams of cradled babe, So free from earthly stain — Nor purer are the moon's soft beams. That flood with light the sea ; Not Heaven, with all its shining host, Is purer, love, than thee ! RP 10 STANZAS. Thy soul is longing to be free. And canat thou wish to go, And leave a sad and aching void, In hearts that love thee so ? Why dost thou pine ? a few short years. And all must sink to rest, Temptations — trials, must be ours, — But they who bear are blest. Exemption none can claim from these, Our life is but a stage ; The scenes keep shifting — joy and grief. Despondency and rage- All mingle, and, with giant might, To earth the soul would bear ; Despair not, but still struggle on — The way will soon be cleax. This world, though fair, was never meant Our resting place to be ; Fruition of our hc^es we'll find But in Eternity ! Afflictions are but sent in love, God judgest not hke thee ; He sees the need, receive each stroke In deep humility. 11 If 'twere not sent, thy soul perchance, LuU'd by sin's hateful power, Would never wake to know its woe Till that sad final hour. Oh ! could'st thou see into the hearts Of those thou thinkest gay, Their hidden tears they may not shed Are washing life away. In some despair is gnawing deep. In some remorse thou'dst find ; In all, some sorrow finds a place, Some grief fills every mmd. Then bear thy ills unmurmuringly. Pine not to be set free ; There's many an aching heart would change Its sadder lot with thee. 11 , LINES. They tell her he's fallen, they tell her he's slain, And the fair light oi reason, shines never again ! Hark ! hear that wild laughter, no tears' soothing pow'r Can ease her hrain's burning in that awful hour. And yet should we grieve, that oblivion has spread Its dark wings in pity o'er her youthful head — That she's saved from the raem'ry of happiness gone, And wakes not to know she is dreary and lone ? No visions of horror assail her dark mind, She hears no sad wailings, nor shrieks in the wind ; She sees not in fancy his weltering form As her musings speed forth to the battle's wild storm. The hoarse boom of cannon sounds not in her ear. The hours glide by calmly, without one sad fear ; No dreams of wild terror affright her by night. Oh ! 'twas God's tender mercy that quench'd reason's light. Mourn not, for hope fills her soul with its ray. As she waits for his coming, and watches each day ; She wonders he tarries, but no doubt fills her heart — She will watch thus, and wait till her spirit depart. ■■■■ mmm 18 And weep not for her, though soon her fair head Low, low, shall be laid, in her last quiet bed ; Breathe not one sigh, for she's gone to her rest, ' To meet the long lost one, amidst Heaven's blest. u ' ,'t;/,; ■!:..-. . ... t( There praise and than'.isgiving shall fill her glad soul, That on earth the dark waters of Lethe did roll O'er her mind, and that Heaven in mercy bestowed That cloud, which with peace had o'ershadowed life's road. LINES TO A FRIEND. Oh ! pale is thy cheek, and great sadness is shading thy brow ; But in meek resignation thou bearest thine own weight of woe. I know that thy spirit oft wanders, far out on the sea, And, in fancy, thou seest the white sails that bear him from thee ; I know that when others around thee are buried in sleep, Thy thoughts dwell on one who is absent, and then may 'st thou weep. Alone, with thy heait's deep fond yearnings, let thy tears fall. They will ease griefs tight cords, that seem striving thy brain to enthrall Aye ! fast let them come, and still faster — check not their flow — Though hotly they pour from their fountain, they'll cool the brain's glow, Then bury them not in thy bosom, stem not their tide, Lest they should tell to another, the grief thou would'st hide. 14 Perchance, each soft breeze that sweeps o'er thee, brings fear on its wing, As to fancy's deep caverns it seemeth a whisper to sing, A whisper, that tells of a tempest, and then dost t!»ou see The waves madly lash'd into fury, the storm-fiend exulting in glee. Thou beholdest the blackness of Heaven, the lightning's bright glare, Till fearfully shudd'ring in terror, thou bendest in prayer. Then swift to thy heart's supplication an answer is sent, And thou feel'st to thy faith, that was wav'ring, new strength has been lent. Thou hearest God's voice on the waters — " Peace, be thou still," And quick through thy heart's deep recesses hope's glad voice does thrill. And again, and again, in thy rapture, thou bendest thy knee. And thanliest with fervour thy Maker, who comfortest tliee. Aye ! ever, and ever, remember, the winds and the wave Are curb'd by the strong arm of Mercy, and though they may rave. And strive to o'erwhelm with their furj', and sink the frail bark. The Hand that restrains them ne'er falters, in daylight or dark! Then trustingly give to His keeping, thy loved one at sea, Believe, without doubting. His goodness, in time, will restore him to thee. !ar on I glee, bright i •' ■;i'? Ii has ill," I does ,vf^ STANZAS. The vault of Heaven is not more blue, More pure and deep and soft in hue. Than those dear eyes of thine ; The morning sun, when from his bed He lifts the curtains night has spread, Does not more brightly shine. And whiter than the Alpine snow, Gleams forth, beneath thy hair's rich flow. That brow so calm and fair ; Oh ! had I painter's art to trace That face divine, that form of grace, A picture rich, and rare. may irk, irk! him For unto me thou seem'st a theme, For poet's vision — ^painter's dream — Or minstrel's mslody ; Too bright and fair for all earth's ill, Alas ! and must thou still fulfil Life's mournful destiny. Life with its round of hopes and fears. Its bitter griefs, its petty cares. That still wiui giant-power ; Binds fast the heart with earthly ties. And stays its flight, when it would rise Beyond the passing hour. mmmm 16 Oh ! could I form a path for thee, A path through this world's troubled sea, I'd brightly plant it o'er With beauteous flow'rs and not one thorn Should cause a wound, to bid thee mourn The hidden ills in store. I-M vain ! in vain ! no mortal power Can save thee from the dark sad hour Of this world's woes, And though bright flowers thy path adorn, Alas ! we know that still a thorn Lies hid in ev'ry rose ! A CANADIAN TALE. Deep, in a far Canadian wild, A woodland cot in beauty smil'd ; Half hidden in a flow'ry shade, By rose and honeysuckle made, While many a forest flower beside (Spread like a carpet far and wide), Lent their sweet breath, to make the scene A fitting home for fairy queen ; Nor was there wanting murm'ring rill. With dreamy thoughts the mind to fill. Whose music, as it rippled by. Was sweeter than all minstrelsy ; 17 While hero and there the sun's bright beams, Mark'd out its course by sparkhng gleams ; Oh I never yet was spot more blest, With all on earth that's loveliest. And Cora, she whose home was h-^re, Seemed wafted from some brighter sphere ; So seldom beauty, such as hers. In this sin-blighted world appears. So pure, so sweet, so like the thing Of poet's wild imagining : A being traced in painter's dream, Was never lovelier, I ween. 'Twas not in form or face alone — These were a volume of their own — But round her all seemed fresh and new, Like violet bathed in early dew. Before the sun's warm ray doth sip One sparkhng drop from its sweet lip. Her eighteen summers scarce did chase The childhood's bloom from off her face, For not one grief had touched her brow. From years of infancy, till now. A mother's love was round her thrown, No otlior friend she e'er had known. Save her old grandsire, who ador'd Even her hghtest spoken word. These the sole tenants of that cot, A trio by the world forgot. One eve, as Cora by the stream fat lost in niuny a pleasant drearn, A loud shrill neigh fell on her oar, Making her start, in sudden fear. D 18 I While near her dash'd, at frantic speed, A riderless, affrighted steed : What is it makes her cheek turn pale. White as the lily of the vale ? Oh, piteous sight ! the rider too. One moment meets her startled view — Caught in the stirrup by his heel. Bleeding and torn : well may she kneel And cry for help, for sore the need Both of the rider and the steed. Straight on, before their headlong coui*8e, A chasm, many yards across. So deep that one could scarcely brook To give one dizzy, downwaid look. Lies, almost hidden by a screen Of underwood of dazzling green. Oh ! well may Coka veil her eyes. As onward still that mad horse flies ; Another bound, and he must gain The chasm's brink ! her reeling brain Seems frenzied by the fearful sight — A darkness like a cloud of night, Gathers around her : but too soon Passes this momentary swoon. And once again, she dares to look. While every nerve is strained and shook. A sudden ligh* beams in her eye — What is it tha : she doth descry ? Oh, can it be ! a gladsome thrill Of joy her fainting pulses fill ; Yet scarcely can she dare believe Her eyes, that they do not deceive ; For, from death's very jaws is riven That rider, by the hand of heaven. n ' f 19 Thero on the chasm's brink he lay, While never more the light of day Shall da^vn upon the courser's sight — His eyes are closed in endless night. What providence was it did save, His master from that rocky grave ? A broken girth the saddle freed, Just at the moment the poor steed Gave his last plunge. Oh ! who can toll, The thoughts that fast o'er Cora swell. As gaining that too fatal spot. She stoops to mark if Ufe is not Extinct in that pale deathlike form. And weeps to see how sadly torn, And stained with gore, is that wan face. Which in her lap finds resting place ? Despairingly, she looks around, Alas ! is no help to be found ? Will no one come ? " Mother ! " she cries. Oh joy ! her mother's voice replies, " My child, where art thou ? Why that cry, " As though in bitter agony? " What ! what, has fallen ? " " Nay be calm, " Dear mother, I am free from harm ; " IJut one lies here, sore, sore in need " Of aid. Oh ! use thy utmost speed " To bring some water from the stream, " For still I think there is one gleam "Of life yet left within his breast : " Bring water, then, I'll tell the rest." Feebly the drooping lids are raised — One sudden glance as though ama;ied, — A thought, perhaps, that angels bright Are round him in the realms of light. He strives to move, but ah ! the pain, Renews that death-like swoon again. The cot is near, but how can they That lifeless burden there convey ? Cora must seek her grandsire's aid : — His quick invention soon has made A couch of boughs and leaves entwined. And thus, with all their strength combined. With fi^quent restings on the way. They gain their home, while still he lay In that deep faint — till now, in bed. His wounds all dress'd, again there, spread The faintest glow o'er his pale cheek. With feeble voice he tries to speak — " Where am I ? Say ? And who art thou " That bathes my pain'd and burning brow ? " Surely some angel from the sky, " Sent to relieve tiiis f^ony." A soft smile played on Cora's lip, — " Thou'rt better now ; first try to sip " This draught, and then I will narrate " The story of thy present state." Again she bathes his aching head. Where cooUng bandages are spread. And while he lay, with half-closed eyes. The tale of peril she supplies ; A silent prayer is raised to heaven For the great mercy to him given — While a sad tear his eyelids wet. For one who long had been a pet. His much-loved horse — he cannot bear To think of him, laid mangled there. ^^ mmmm mum 21 And now, he teUs his own short tale, How he had sought that lonely vale. To track the wild Canadian deer, Who at that season herded near ; And, tired of the sport, was then Wending his homeward way again. An Indian, who had been his guide. Had left him near the streamlet's side, And he was riding carelessly — Lost in a pleasant reverie — The reins from out his hand had slipt, When suddenly his poor horse tript, And he, all unprepared, was thrown — Since then, he nothing more had known Till now : and then a deep-drawn sigh Bespoke the pang of memory. He further told how his true home, Lay far o'er the Atlantic's foam : Dear England ! would that he could see The faces loved that dwell in thee. His gentle mother, how she'd grieve When the sad tale she did receive. And then, in accents soft and low. That straight to Cora's heart did go. His thanks were given for the care Of those who kindly nursed him there. He feels less pain, his eyes soon close, This time in deep and calm repose. Now let us turn to that bright home. That Reginald had called his own (For this his name). — A lordly hall, With many a dome, and turret tall, 22 With many an acre, where there stray 'd The deer, all free and undismay'd ; And noble timber, in its age Told of long years of heritage. See ! he who now owns these broad lands. There, on that sloping terrace, stands. England has not a nobler name, Amongst her noblest to proclaim, Than his, and in his haughty eye One reads his long nobihty. Scarce past his prime — a man that few Could pass and not their gaze renew — Something above the common herd, Like eagle, midst the lesser bird ; And still, in that patrician face. There dwells a soft and winning grace — A something there that gives to view The heart, and speaks it noble too. A look of mingled love and pride Is giv'n to her who by his side Now stands, fair in her womaiihood, As when a blushing bride she stood And taught her trembling lip to say — " To love to honor, and obey, Through life " — and she had kept that vow, In all its purity, till now. These were his parents, well might he Pine their loved faces now to see, He was their pride — their only one, And worthy of their devotion ; With youth's wild longing, from his home His eager spirit seeks to roam ; 23 And thus, adventurous, ho goes To bravo the deep Canadian snows ; The far-fumed moose, himself to chase, There in its own wild resting place ; Oh ! had they guessed his sorry plight, Methinks they'd been less calm to night. But CoRA.'s face soon makes amends To Reginald for absent friends, As day by day returning strength Beats in each pulse, until at length He wanders forth, she for his guide. Along the beauteous streamlet's side ; And as they reach the spot where he So nearly met eternity, A sigh is breathed, a tear is shed. O'er his loved steed's, deep quiet bed ; While Coka's heart's too full to speak, As thoughts of him hath paled her cheek : One moment more, that fatal day, And he from earth had passed away. Poor Cora ! love had sunk his dart Deep in her pure and guileless heart. And though she thought the wound concealed, That hour the secret had revealed ; And Reginald ? Oh ! he was blest, To note that love for him confess'd. For, from the moment he had seen Her face, she unto him had been. Too dear, and yet he may not tell The fond thoughts that within him dwell. His parents '? Could they ever brook That he a nauKiless bride thus took 24 From out this far uncultured wild '.' His wife a simple cotter's child ! Nay, in their pride, they would disown, And cast him forth from his loved home ; And yet, if they could see her now, Where could they find a nobler brow ? Methinks, a coronet were graced. To be on such a fair head placed ; I'll with them plead, surely their love For me should should raise them far above The world's cold ways. Will they let mo Wear out my life in misery ? For ne'er again, I feel, can I Be happy without Cora nigh. These were the thoughts, that through his brain Passed quickly, as they turned again To seek that quiet home, where they Had lived for weeks so happily. A winter pass'd, and spring again Smiles gaily in that lovely glen ; And Cora seeks once more the stream ; But where has fled that sunny gleam That round her footsteps erst hath play'd, As once so merrily she stray 'd ? There dwells within her breast a pain. Long struggled with, but all in vain ; Do ( ply it gnaws till her young heart, Is ready with its life to part ; " Oh ! had he loved me, he had ne'er Left me to weep, in this despair ; He never spoke of love, but I Thought that I read it in his eye ; ■f»Ji5. mt 90 Aad in the tone that sadly fell, Broken and low, in his farewell. Oh ! bitter word, since then no ray Of light, has cheered my lonely way. Is his heart happy ? Or, like mine, Does it in untold sorrow pine ? " Thus mused the maid, her head bent low. Tears mingling with the streamlet's flow. Oh ! Eeoinald, thy heart had bled To see that bovy'd and weary head. Vainly he'd urged his father's pride, To let him seek her for his bride ; His mother he had long since won. Aye ! long before his tale was done Of Coba's watchfulness, and care, While he lay scarcely hving there. She longed to play a mother's part, And press the fair girl to her heart ; For oh ! her gentle nature mourned To see how changed, since he returned. Was her loved son. How unto him Life had grown weary, dark, and dim ; How his bright smile, had grown so rare, And in his eye dwelt heavy care ; Oh ! gladly she had giv'n her all, His joyous bearing, back to call. And that proud father, too, perceived. The change, and in his heart he grieved ; He loved the boy, but how could he See him thus wed a nobody ? i • 1!. B 26 This forest child ! — 't was madness quite. Nay, he would shut out from his sight His son's deep wretchedness, and steel His breast — no softness it should feel. Thus did he reason, but could he Be firm while still this misery Wax'd yet more strong, till Reginald By scarce a link to life seemed held ? O'er the Atlantic's deep blue wave There speeds a bark, all fair and bravo, Her full sails bending to the breeze, Right merrily she ploughs the seas Of this vast ocean, but too slow For one impatient heart does go. Ah ! Reginald a bird's swilt wing Would seem a slow and loitering thing To bear thee o'er the billows foam To thy dear Coka's forest home. Yes, he has conquered ! his proud sire Has yielded to his fond desire ; And, with a light and joyous heart, He goes to play a lover's part : To woo sweet Cora for his own. And bear her from that bower lone ; In stately hall with him to dwell. For ah ! he knows she loves him well. He'd marked upon her lovely cheek The hue of death, as he did speak His sad farewell, and in her eye There'd been a look that had well nigh " 27 Broken his heart, for it had told Of grief tliat words could not unfold ; Oh ! how through life 'twill be his care All future pain to strive to spare. And with his deep affection try T' repay her hours of agony. Poor CoBA ! hadst thou known whose feet Were near, as on that rugged seat Thou sat'st — thy thoughts a distant way Gone o'er the ocean's glitt'ring spray, Floating in fancy on the wave That his fair island home doth lave — Those pearly drops had never fell So sadly from their beauteous cell. Oh ! was there nothing in thy heart The coming joy that did impart ? Did no quick throb a warning bring And o'er thy mind sweet comfort fling ? Nay, she is calm, and doth not hear The steps so quickly drawing near. Till, with a cry, that head doth rest On Reginald's true loving breast. My tale is finished. Coka now A coronet wears on her brow. And diamonds glitter in her hair, Where once the wild rose mingled there Fairest amidst a bright fair throng. With native grace she moves along ; Her gentle heart is still the same As when from that far wild she came. I ■ Her beauteous lip ne'er curls in scorn, For she remembers she was bom A cotter's child, though they are dead Who o'er her early life had shed Their love. True heart ! she ne'er forgot, Though changed so greatly was her lot. And that stem father blest the day That he to Reginald gave way. For Cora's presence all made bright, And the old home seemed filled with hght. m 29 STANZAS. I have not known thee long, and yet 'Tis hard to say farewell ; That crushing word sounds to my ear Like a sad ftinereal knell. Perchance we may never meet again — Thy path may not lie with mine ; But long in memory's treasured haunts Thy pale sweet face shall twine. And oft shall I recall these day Days that had else been sad, But for thy gentle loving voice Making my heart feel glad. And now that voice is hushed for me — Hush'd, hush'd, and thou art gone ; But deep within where thine image dwells, Its echo lingers on. And ever and ever, While life shall throb- In my heart, love, fond and true — Unchanging, undying — shall ever dwell In its inmost depths for you. 30 NAY, LET ME WEEP. Nay, let me weep, why sliould I strive To seem what I am not ? 'Yhy wreathe my iip with tortured smiles. Mocking my heart's sad lot ? I may not tell one half the grief That makes these sad tears fall ; Unbidden all, from their deep fount They spring, nor wait my call. Who, that has parted with the loved — The dearest one on earth — Feels not, at times, of hope bereft, And shrinks from tones of mirth ? Oh ! the sudden start and the paling cheek, At a glance or a tone suppress'd, And the quivering thrill of each unstrung nerve, TeH' of the heart's unrest. The longed-for letter still comes not, And the spirit faints with fear. And rife is the fancy with troubled dreams, Sinking all hope to despair. 31 A nameless dread of coming ill, Like a heavy shadow falls, And the eye grows dim, we know not why, And sad thought the mind enthralls. Unheeded, then, life's joys und cares Pass hy, we note them not; Hopeless and desolate we turn And wtep, — 't i3 woman's lot. STANZAS. Oh ! pale, pale is thy cheek, dearest, And from out thy deep blue eye, A light (but not of this world) gleams Like a warning from on high. There's a calm that sits on thy high pure brow, That tells of a soul at rest, And thy spirit seems eager to wing its flight To Ihe happy home of the blest. Oh ! lovely ! but fragile as woodland flow'r, Too fair tor this rude world's strife. — Too tender to bear the storms that sweep O'er the daily paths of life. 32 Thy home is not here — 't is beyond the sky, Where soon thou shalt wend thy way ; There thy pale cheek shall glow with immortal bloom, And thine eye, there, resume its bright ray. But oh ! there are hearts that may not be calm, As they watch thy Ufe decay — Sad aching hearts, that, of thee bereft, On the earth care not to stay. *T were selfish, the wish that would kesp thee here ; But, alas ! we 're of mortal mould. And to part with the dearest, the best beloved. Is agony not to be told. To give to the grave the loved, loved face, Though we know that the spirit has fled To the realms of bliss, who breathes not the wish — Would ! that I, too, were dead ! 33 n 1 ON FINDING A WITHERED LEAF IN MY ROOM. Whence comest thou, and wherefore art thou here, Thou faded leaf, so wither'd and so sear ? Alone, far from thy kindred, thou hast stray'd, And at my feet in weariness art laid. Hast thou come far o'er breezy hill and dell — Borne on the autumn blast ? Oh, leaflet tell ! Say, have the eyes I love e'er glanced on thee ? Say, was thy early home beyond the sea ? Thou liest here, a blighted, faded thing. Ah ! different were thy hues, when balmy spring Called thee to life ; then deck'd with emerald dye, Quiv'ring with joy, thou watched the summer sky. But brief thy joy, soon is thy summer past, ■ I'om from thy parent stem by wintry blast ; riutt'ring and shrinking leaflet, thou must die, Al^ne, without one sister leaflet nigh. Here lie thee down upon thy mother's breast — Thy mother earth, who calls thee to thy rest ; Perchance, again the spring's reviving breath May bid thee wane from out thy sleep of death. P ggjji 34 STANZAS. I ►' My beauteous star ! the fairest gems That stud with fire earth's diadems, Grow dim when thou dost condescend Thy living hght this world to lend. Oh, sweet nale star ! thy gentle light Bums with > ■ • ; 3 pure and bright ; But still, meti. ■,, I see thy rays Gleam fainter than in former days. I strive to think my eyes deceive, But, ah ! in vain. I must believe ; As tremblingly thy ^ow I mark, Now bright, now but a fading spark. Thick clouds are gath'ring from afar. To veil thy face, dear, lovely star ! Denser and faster on they roll, The night-wind seems thy dirge to toll. And faintly midst the trees I hear A wailing sob, so sad and drear, As though the murmur'd words were said- Thy loved star's sinking to the dead. Thus, as I watch, a thrill of pain Comes o'er me, for I see thee wane. Oh ! linger still, leave us not yet, 'T were night indeed, when thou hast set. \l ■ I mm 85 FAST I FEEL MY SOUL IS FLEETING. Fast I feel my soul is fleeting To the realms on high. Weep not, dear ones, still your sorrow, Breathe not one sad sigh. Earth for me was ever dreary — Would ye bid me stay Where such pain and grief beset me. Oh ! I would away. Bear me to some quiet churchyard, Where I may have rest ; Where wild flowers shall bloom and flourish, The sweetest and the best. Lay me far from this world's bustle, Where no foot profane, E'er shall press the turf that covers This now throbbing brain. Perfect rest ! oh, joy seraphic ! Rest I ne'er have known ; Racking pain no more to tear me — Still'd each sigh and groan. Quiet grave ! oh, who would dread thee ?— Wreck'd and tempest-torn — Thou to me a haven seemest To my bark forlorn. li 36 Deep and silent, in thy chambers, Strife may never come ; — Bitter words with untold torture, Blighting hearth and home. Tones and taunting looks that madden- Scom's most chiUing sneer — All from this last home excluded : None can enter here. Hope of many an aching spirit, By the world opprest, Torn and buffetted by sorrow, Grave ! thy bed is rest. \ LINES. Oh ! weep not, dear lady, weep, weep not so, Chase that dark cloud from thy aching brow ; Back to thy lip bid the bright smile once more, Recall to thine eye the calm light that is o'er : Let a cloud of obhvion o'er the past sweep, For oh ! my heart aches to see thee thus weep. I know the fond dreams of thy youth are o'er, Thy bright hopes lie buried to rise no more. I know that great sorrow has riven thy heart — Bidding all joy from thy life depart — But oh ! if thou canst, let the bright past sleep Bear thee up bravely ! oh, do not thus weep. mmmfm 37 ' The future may have some bright things in store ; Friends still are left thee, true as of yore ; Some may have fail'd thee, but oh, there are those Who would give up their all for thy heart's repose — Fond yearning spirits, who with joy would steep That life o'er which you now sadly weep. Stem ! stem ! this torrent, calm thy deep woe, Vain, for the past, do thy tears sadly flow ; Storms fierce and wild have swept o'er thy young head. Cold worldling's scorn, o'er thy pathway been shed ; But lift thy pure eyes far from this earth away. And weep not for things that so soon must decay. Tears such as thine may bring no rehef. Each drop thou sheddest but adds to thy grief ; Bitter and hot, from the fountain they pour, Searing thy heart in this desolate hour. Calm thee ! oh calm thee, lift thy bow'd head. Fling back the shadow o'er thy pale face spread. Which of thy hopes, when to certainty brought, Seemed the bright thing thou so eagerly sought ? Which of them satisfied ? Which of them lent To thy fond longing unmixed content. Filling with quiet thy spirit's unrest, Lulling each tumult that filled thy breast ? Did not attainment, like spring's early flow'r. Blossom and perish in one passing hour ? Leaving behind it vain thoughts of regret. Causing hope's bright ray so sadly to set ? Earth has no happiness, lasting and deep ; Its sorrows are fleeting. Why dost thou weep ? as OH ! SAY, MY HEART, WHY ART THOU SAD. Oh ! say, my heart, why ai't thou sad ? Now, when thou shouldest be most glad — Now, when from lands beyond the sea. Thy loved, thine own, comes home to thee ? Why do the tear-drops dim thine eye, And why that sad and frequent sigh ? Is it because thy love has flown. Or into cold indifference grown ? My love grown cold ? Oh ! could I tell How deep, how true, how fond, how well. Unchanging still, till life depart. That love must dwell within my heart ! But yet, but yet that heart has room, Despite its joy, for thoughts of gloom ; Or else, perchance, that joy's full weight Had been a burden all too great. a My eyes are dim, because I leave The friends whose love did o'er me weave A chain of bright and sunny flowers. That cheer my else sad lonely hours. And though that chain, with its bright spell, Through life its tale of love may tell. And ever bind, with strongest tie, My grateful heart and memory, Still each bright link must sadly strain When parting, though to meet again ; And every flower could weeping tell The bUght that falls in each farewell ! Then chide me not because I sigh When hope and happiness are nigh. Or that the tear drops rise and start When thus from friends so dear I part. LINES WRITTEN ON CHRISTMAS NIGHT, 1855. The hall was deck'd with festal flowers, The holly branch was there ; And eyes grew bright, and hearts more warm, AU blithe with Christmas cheer. But one amidst that joyous throng Sat silent and alone ; The light from out her eye had fled, Her happy smile was gone. She reck'd not that the dance went on — Her ear was deaf to song — Her heart was far from that gay scene — Heedless they passed along. 40 She listened to the stormy wind ; To her, it seemed to wail, And to her fever'd fancy came Wild shrieks upon the gale. She knew the waves were tossing high, She heard them lash the shore, And strove in vain to close her ear To their loud deafning roar. Her heart grew sick and faint with fear. As fiercer raged the blast. And every gust successive seemed More furious than the last. She knew that on that stormy main A frail bark rose and fell. And white and quiv'ring grew her Up, To hear its stormy swell. That bark held one, more dear than life ; Well might her eye grow dim — The world's gay throng unheeded pass — Her thoughts are all of him. To her it was no merry time, It all seemed drear and sad, For he was absent who alone Could make her heart feel glad. f 41 OH ! HAPPINESS ! IN VAIN, IN VAIN. Oh, happiness ! in vain, in vain, "We seek thy dwelling here ; Thou hast no resting place below, On earth's cold chilling sphere. In vain ! the busy seekers strive To catch thy fleeting form, Lured on by hope's bright cheering ray, Unheeding many a storm. Still pressing onward, till at last, The drooping spirit feels The chase is useless, and faint hope His broken wing reveals. Ah ! when did hope's fruition bring The happiness we sought ; A happiness long waited for With tears too dearly bought ! Did e'er attainment bring content ? Alas ! we 're mortal mould, And every longing satisfied. New longings but unfold. G i mmm iP \ I 42 Oh ! sad, that in tho whole wide world, No heart is free from care ; That some grim spectre haunts each home- Some grief dwells every where. 3^ The child, the man, the hoary head — Each have their troubled hours ; Some poisoned weed finds lurking-place Amidst the fairest flow'rs. Then look beyond this world to find Where happiness does dwell ; Its resting-place was never here, As many a heart can tell. January, 1856. \ 43 * ■ TO-MORROW \ r Oh, to-morrow ! oh, to-morrow ! On thy wings comes bitter sorrow, •^ Bidding hearts that love to sever Parting them perhaps for ever. Oh, to-morrow ! how I fear thee, Thou from all hfe's joy will tear me, From my heart thou 'It crush all gladness, Steeping me in woe and sadness. Oh, to-morrow ! thy dread coming ■ Ever o'er my pathway looming ; Joy's bright circle making narrow. With thy sad and dark'ning shadow. Oh, to-morrow ! thy fell power Has crushed many an else-glad hour ; With many a tear mine eyelids steeping, While lighter hearts were deeply sleeping. Oh, to-morrow ! fast thou 'rt nearing ; Quickly on to-day is wearing ; Now thy drear attainment closes, And m the lap of night reposes. Oh, to-morrow ! of thy dawning Midnight chimes are giving warning, Each sharp stroke my heart is swelling. With a grief that knows no teUing. mm wm 1' ,V J 44 % THE REQUEST. When the momiiig light is flooding Earth, eVy, and sea, And the lark's pure song is rising, Sweetly and free ; When the silv'ry dew is glist'ning O'er all the lea, And flow'rs from their beds are peeping. Then think of me. > THE ANSWER. I'll think of thee at early dawn, And when the mid-day glows ; I'll think of thee when coming eve Its length'ning shadow throws ; I'll think of thee when twilight hour Its spell shall breathe o'er me : And when night's curtains darkly fall. Then will I think of thee. 45 THE DREAM. Oh, bright was the dream, but 't is past — 't is past — A vision too lovely — too dear to last ; Cheating my heart with its seeming stay, Then suddenly winging its flight away. Oh ! the hngering tone of its farewell note Round my saddened spirit seems still to float With a dirge-Uke sound, so sad and drear, Like a funeral knell to my straining ear. But soon e'en that echo shall fall and die, For the storm-clouds grow thick on my once clear sky ; And the fading glow of the summer day, In the gathering darkness is dying away. The sob and wail of life's coming storm, On the breath of the night to my ear is borne, And the foam-cap'd billows are rising fast. To drown, in their fury, the once bright past. Ah ! why did that dream, with delusive ray. Gild my life for a moment, and then flee away, Leaving me stranded on sorrow's shore, Never to rise from its deep sands more ? But stiU, as the waves of time shall sweep O'er my shattered bark, I may vainly weyp, And strive to recall tho faintest gleam Of that early, that lov'd, that vanish'd dream. nf 46 STANZAS. What makes thy cheek so pale, dear love ? What makes thine eye so sad ? Oh ! turn thee from these dreary thoughts Let thy poor heart be glad. Sunshine alone was never meant With mortal form to dwell, Life's chequered path must ever have Its tale of grief to tell. \s What though a cloud has dim'd the light That brightly round thee shone, Lift up thy head, look bravely out, The clouds will soon pass on. Though fond hopes perish, fresh and fair, Again new hopes will rise, Whose buds and blossoms yet may bind Thy heart with strongest ties. But if to thy heart earth may yield no balm, Nor time ease thy aching breast, The grave has a calm that nought can disturb. And in heav'n is joy and rest. \ m LOOSE ! LOOSE ! THE WHITE SAIL Loose ! loose ! the white sail ! Let the sheet kiss the gale ! Though sad are our hearts the while ; For we go o'er the foam From our own dear home, And vainly the hp tries to smile. Ere the night closes round, We shall hear not a sound. Save the voice of the waves and the wind ; But the ear yet shall thrill With the echo that still Falls from musical tones left behind. Oh ! the storm, in its glee, May rage wild o'er the sea. And hoarsely may sound its loud note ; It will only then seem. As our hearts fondly dream. In melody round us to float. There are eyes that will weep, And a sad vigU keep, As o'er the dark waters we steer ; And where'er we may go, Fond and true hearts, we know, For our safety will oft breathe a prayer. -' I Then loose the white sail ! Though the cheek may turn pale, For the loved and the dear ones we leave Those eyes will grow bright, And those hearts yet be light, When, homeward, the waters we cleave. LINES. My bark spreads forth her snowy sails. The fair wind seems to woo. And I must wend my seaward course — Must bid my last adieu ! 'T were vain to tell thee how I love — Thou knowest it too well ; And though the word my full heart break Yet must I say farewell ! Oh ! had we met in earlier years ! But now, too late, too late, I may not ask if thou wilt share My blighted fallen state ! I would not see thy bright, bright lot Link'd to a fate like mine ; But oh ! while life still holds her throne, Thy image I '11 enshrine ! 49 I i'Si To leave thee thus is agony. Too deep, too great for tears, This pallid cheek must tell the grief My aching bosom bears ! And thou, I bid thee never let Thy pure thoughts dwell on me ; I bid thee cast my very name From out thy memory ! Let Lethe's wave roll o'er thy heart, And let our meeting seem. Throughout thy life, but unto thee As some wild midnight dream. I would not have one single tear For me dim thy bright eye ; Nor would I have thee breathe for me One sohtary sigh ! Oh ! may thy path with flowers be deck'd, Thy life be free from ill. And ne'er thy heart, like mine, be wreck'd- Despair thy bosom fill ! Farewell ! farewell ! my reeling brain In vain would calm its woe ; It throbs to madness \vith its pain — Farewell ! I go, I go ! ' n 50 STANZAS. * ' 1* Speed ! oh, speed thee o'er the waters- Let no storm -wind blow ; Gentle gales, and prosperous, waft thee Whither thou would'st go ! I for thee will watch and tarry, Shedding no sad tear ; Hope's bright beacon ever burning, Shall my dark days cheer ! Still beguiling weary hours With fond blissful dreams. Lighting up the gloomy present With their sunny gleams ! Think of me, but not in sadness, Though 't is grief to part ; Sorrow's antidote lies hidden In my hopeful heart. Light and buoyant on the waters, Speed, then, on thy way ; While for thee I watch and tarry, I for thee will pray. 51 STANZAS. Near, and nearer draws the hour — The hour that bids us part — The shadow of that bitter anguish FaUs darkly on my heart. The lone and dreary days to follow On that sad word, "Farewell," Now haunt me : how I dread their coming, 'T were vain to strive to tell. No voice of love to still my weeping — To soothe with softest tone ; No arm to guard, no heart to rest on : Alone ! oh, all alone ! In vain hope's voice tells of a meeting, Now that the parting's near ; Beyond that hour of pain and sorrow : All ! all looks dark and drear. Oh ! what shall compensate for partings That rend life's dearest ties ? The fondest meeting ne'er effaces That hour's agonies. Though wounds be healed— aye ! e'en the deepest Still shall the scar remain Through life, and death alone removeth That witness of our pain. ' l*«!»*s ^<"W«pipn««n mmmmmm ■■ 62 ii'' Oh, earth ! oh, earth I thy joys are fleeting- Unstaple as the wave ; The heart that rests its all upon thee, Must find an early grave. Oh, heart of mine, still thy deep anguish, In heaven thy hopes must centre ; The journey's short, the haven neareth. Where partings may not enter. I'LL THINK OF THEE. I'll think of thee in joy's bright hour, I'll think of thee in grief; I'll think of thee midst summer flowers, 'Mid autumn's fading leaf; I'll think of thee when winter's storms Fall fast o'er hill and dale, — By day, by night, in weal or woe. My thoughts shall with thee dwell. II \. \. 53 STANZAS. Farewell ! farewell ! since thou must go, God speed thee o'er the sea ; In vain my quivering lip would tell My heart's deep love for thee ! But thou ! I know thou need'st not words That heart's fond tale to tell ; The one sole image treasured there — Thou knowest it full well. Oh ! what shall fill its aching void — Its yearnings after thee ; Oh ! who shall still its beating pain, When thou art gone from me ? Poor stricken heart, where is thy hope — Why art thou so cast down ? Is there no haven left for thee ? Has ev'ry comfort flown ? Be firm ! be brave ! what though this storm Shake loose thy dearest tie, Others still dear thou hast to bind With their fond memory. Brightly the distant morrow looms ; Why should'st thou joyless be ? Oh ! coward heart, dispel this cloud That hides the hght from thee. . \ an ii «4 There are mary sunbeams round thy path, And mar.y bright, bright flowers ; Why turn fiom these to one sharp thorn — One cloud, that darkly lowers ? \^ Oh ! thankless heart, thy lot is crowned With joys that few may know ; Kemember ! He ! who thus has blessed, Has will'd thy present woe. And doubt not but 't is sent in love, 'T is mercy deals the stroke ; Take heed lest thy deep murmurings A heavier blow invoke ! 1 \i. 55 HOPE. We met ! but again has come round the dread parting, Once more the cold seas of the north thou must brave ; But hope a bright shadow is o'er my heart casting, And whispers thou soon will return o'er the wave. Oh ! fast sped the hours so cheerily passing, Too quickly, alas ! — far too soon they are o'er ; But a voice in soft murm 'rings, like sweet music dropping, Tells of those hours returning once more. Deep, deep, in my heart, sinks that voice, and with gladness Lights up the dark cloud that was o'er my path thrown; Stilling and calming my fast-growing sadness. Restoring the smile that had from my hp flown. And still as I listen, when seas shall be swelling Between us, may ever that voice greet my ear ; By day and by night, with its soft cadence thrilling, Chasing back sorrow and lulling each fear. Then let no sad tears with our farewell be mingled, Look out on the future — the present forget — Let hope's radiant star from all others be singled To light and to guide us till life shall have set. 8 56 CHILDHOOD'S DAYS. I AM thinking of the merry days When I was but a child, And thoughts are crowding on my heart Of freaks and frolics wild ! I am thinking of the lovely flowers I plucked with careless hand, And deemed the coronet they made Unrivalled ii* the land ! I am thinking of that silvery brook. Deep in the forest shade, Where hour by hour, in summer time, I with my sisters play'd. What though my heart hath trials known — What though dark shadows fall — What though sad tears oft dim mine eye, As I those clays recall. Still those bright days ihall come again, In fond and blissful dreams, And with a cheerful light o'erspread My path with sunny gleams. Oh ! childhood's hours ! ye long shall dwell In memory's hidden cave. And thoughts of ye shall help to waft My boat o'er life's dark wave. 57 LINES. Oh ! maid of my heart ! thou art passing fair, With thy azure eyes, and thy deep brown hair ; There's a witching spell in thy dimpled cheek, And thy mouth needs not language or voice to speak. But oh ! unto me there's a deeper spell Than e'en on thy lip or thy cheek doth dwell — Than e'en in the tones of thy thrilling voice, Whose echo alone maketh me rejoice. 'T is thy heart — thy heart — which is pure and true, And more lovely to me than those eyes of blue ; For I know that Time, with his changeful wing, Shall never a change o'er that true heart bring. I know that while life in thy bosom glows, Love never shall sink into death's repose ; Nor pain, nor sorrow, nor grief it quench, Nor one fond link from its bright chain wrench. Oh ! fairest maiden, thou seem'st to me A vision too bright for reality ; A pictured fancy, a waking dream, To shed o'er life's darkness a sunny gleam. 58 OH ! MY LITTLE FLOATING PALACE. Oh ! my little floating palace ! Happy home tliou'st been to me ; Happy as e'er home on land was, Fairy palace on the sea ! Light and graceful on the water, Like a bird, with wings of snow ; Oh ! that thou could'st waft me with thee, Wheresoever thou may'st go. But, alas ! I soon must leave thee. Distant far away to dwell ; While thou bear'st the loved and dedr one Swift across the ocean's swell. I shall watch thee spread thy white wings, With a heart by grief opprest ; And, till thou again returnest. That poor heart will know no rest. Blinding tears my eyes are filling — I would check their flow in vain — As I think how near the time is : — Time of parting — time of pain ! Oh ! my home ! my fairy palace ! Soon a home no more to me ! May heaven an urk of safety make thee In thy journeys o'er the sea. H. M. S. March 15, 1856. KV ■^.^r^' 59 THE OCEAN'S DEAD. Oh ! coldly ye lie on your coral bed, 'Neath the deep sea w^ves, ye ocean's dead ; And the eye of the sea-nymph alone may weep On the spot where ye thus unguarded sleep. Oh ! the once-loved and dear, they may never trace The spot of thy quiet resting place ; And the heart that in life all its true love gave May drop not one tear on thy far-off grave ! The sea-bird alone may thy requiem sing. As above thee it passeth, with restless wing ; And the murmuring waters, with dirge-like sound. Alone break the stillness that reigns around. Unmarked is the place, and no storm may tell. That fond hearts there were that once loved thee well ; Unreck'd of thou liest, unknown ! unknown Is the place of thy grave, save to One alone. But oh ! unto One who can bid thee wake. And the spell of the ocean from off thee break ; And bring thee in triumph to where no sea Shall ever again sing its dirge o'er thee. ^|T^"^ V ( 60 STANZAS. The finger of Time on thy brow may press, And to worldly eyes mar thy loveliness ; But oh ! unto me, thou Wilt ever seem The once-bright star of this life's dark dream. The sparkling light of thy spirit, still, Shall with its radiance my bosom thrill ; Nor chances nor changes may serve to throw One shade to darken that light's full glow. Oh ! thy eyes' deep lustre may fade and die, And thy hair no longer with gold may vie, And thy fairy foot may no longer tread The hOl and dale, where it lightly sped ; But brighter far than thy bright sweet face. And lovelier still than thy form of grace. Is thy gentle heart — so true and kind — And the glorious beauty of thy mind. Unfading, unfading, these still shall last, When thy youthful bloom shall long have past ; And with love all quenchless my soul shall fill, Till the pulses that move it, are cold and still. 61 OH ! BRIGHT IS THE DAY, AND FAIR, DEAR LOVE. Oh ! bright is the day, and fair, dear love. Oh bright is the day, and fair ; And the sweet perfume of spring's early flowers Is scenting with fragrance the air. The gushing song of the happy birds. Rises so pure and fret. — All nature rejoices — all things seem glad. But alas ! there's no joy for me. For parting and pain are the notes that wing Their dirge-like sound in my ears, Chasing the smile from my trembling hp — Bedewing my eyes with tears. Oh ! what unto me is the sun's bright gleam ? What is it that bird and flower Are filling with gladness each tree and field ? They cheer not my desolate hour. Unheeded they pass, while alone I hear The wail of the murmuring sea ; And the vision that filleth my weary sight Is a ship, with her white sails free. mm ■ V » 62 Still faster and faster she speedeth on, All in vain would I bid her stay ; The billows sweep over her foam-capp'd wake, As she fades like a spirit away. Alas ! that wild vision must be fulfilled — That ship must indeed speed forth, And bear o'er the waters the loved and dear. To buffet the wind's fierce wrath. Then in vain may the day be fair and bright, In vain may the wild birds sing : Till that vision is past, and that ship returned. Nought can joy to my sad heart bring. STANZAS. Oh ! that I were ever near thee, Shielding thee from ev'ry ill ; I should need no words to teach me How thy wishes to fulfil. But thy ev'ry want forestalling — Watching thee with loving eyes, Till death's angel, softly calling, Bid thy spirit seek the skies. 63 ii But alas ! this world is weary, And the hearts that would be near, Oft-times sever'd are, and dreary — Doom'd alone their fate to bear, Oft in sorrow and in sadness, Sighing for one tone of love ; But for them there reigns no gladness. Till they reach their home above. Oh ! the pain, the bitter anguish, All unreck'd of by the world. Making heart and spirit languish O'er life's billows' wildly hurl'd, Weary of the waves' dark tossing. Weary of the tempest's roar. While the stormy sea they 're crossing Weeping for the better shore. And thy path I know is shaded By full many a heavy cloud : Thou must tread it all unaided, Though the storm rage fierce and loud. Still, bear on ! there is a haven. Sheltered from all earthly ill ; Heart, though faint, yet be not craven — Joy shall there thy pulses thrill. There the wicked have no power — TJiere thy weary soul shall rest ; Soon, poor bird, shall dawn the hour That shall waft thee to this nest. / ^PF 64 !' TO Oh, no ! my lot is brighter far — I would not change with thee — I would not barter for thy gold The love that's shed o'er me. Though gleaming in thy hair they be The diamond's brilliant light, Though emerald and ruby, rare. Begem thy finger's white, They cannot satisfy the heart, Or still its lonely cry ; Though they may win- the homage Of each idle passer by. The hollow world will deeply cringe, Not unto thee but them ; Its softest smiles are ever giv'n To gold and ghtt'ring gem. But oh ! the fealty of one heart Thou knowest to be true. Is dearer than unnumber'd crowds Who kneel to wealth's gay hue. Riches ! how oft are ye a snare — Tempting the youthful heart To sacrifice its happiness — To play a worldling's part ? f 65 Finding, too late, ye cannot bring One ray of bliss or love ; That, though your chain hath golden links, It still a chain doth prove. How oft doth peace your threshold flee, And discontent and woe. O'er all your boasted splendour, A sombre mantle throw ? The world may envy thee thy place, And pitying look on me ; But, oh ! for diadem and throne, I would not change with thee. \ STANZAS. Thou hast taught my heart to love thee. With a sister's fondest love ; With devoted true aff'ection. Which time's changes cannot move. On this earth there dwells no other Half so lovely as thou art, — Lovely in each sculptur'd feature Lovelier in thy pure true heart. K 'A--:" \i 66 sj'"' In thy presence, cheering sunshine Seemeth unto me to play ; When I'm with thee, pain and sorrow Feebly flutter and decay. But the ties to life that bind thee. Oftentimes, are tightly strained : I have seen with untold anguish — With a spirit deeply pained — How the silver cord has quivered, And, at times, has almost snapt ; How the golden bowl has tottered — Its foundations deeply sapt. All ! my loved one, should w-e lose thee. Should our Father deem it wise. In his great and mystic wisdom, To recall thee to the skies, What should we do ? Lone and cheerless. What should we do without thee '? Bright, sweet flow'r ! if thou should'st perish. Life were then but misery. Misery to those thou leavest. But to thee how great the gain : Let me strive to be less selfish, And, without this bitter pain, To think of thee in other mansions, To think of thee in realms of bliss ; 'T were false affection that would cliaio thee To a world so dark as this. 67 TO -I wish my tuneful strain Ah! — Could somewhat ease thy heart's dull pain, And that the simple lays I sing Might help to draw the poison'd sting That fills thy soul with anguish great, And makes thy young life desolate. \ 'T is pain and grief to me to see How stale are all life's joys to thee ; For twenty summers scarce have shed Their good or ill upon thy head : And yet thou seomest to have quafTd All pleasure at a single draught. Deem me not bold, if, as a friend, 1 unto thee would counsel lend ; If I should bid thee rouse thy heart To play a better, worthier part, And struggle on still manfully. Whatever be thy destiny. Up ! up ! and nerve thee to the task — None may in endless sunshine bask ; Life is a battle, few there are That 'scape witliout some painful scar, And oh ! to some time neVr may bring A healing balm upon its mng. ■*.- ^14 m w^m 68 Think of the many who have striven With every evil under heaven, Without one ray of blessed light To shine throughout their long, long night. Without one tone of love to cheer — One eye to drop a pitying tear. Oh think of these, and lift thine eye To catch the light that o'er thy sky In many r^ brilliant sunbeam plays, Hopeful fxDd cheering in its rays ; Think of the many voices still With tones of love for thee that thrill. The world ! what is it but a dream ? Oh, would'st thou put out ev'ry gleani Of sun that on thee still would smilt , And cheer thy heart a little while ? Sorrows are fleeting, great and small. Death comes, and puts an end to all ! Then listen to a friend, sincere, Oh, bend thee to my earnest pray'r : Throw off the weight that binds thy soul. Rouse all thy powers of self-control. Lift up thy thoughts to Him who sends All trials for his own wise ends. 6.9 A PRAYER. Father ! who, from on high, Watches the ocean's swell, Oh ! be Thou ever nigh Him whom I love so well. Let not the stormy wave Engulph his fragile bark, Oh ! be Thou near to sa\ e, In tempest wild and dark. And in the still calm day, When outward all is fair, When wind and waters play And sunshine fills the air, When o'er the dimpled sea A mystic music sweeps, And, in their free, wild glee, Each billow sportive leaps. When, lull'd by all around, The heart knows no more dread, Oh ! in Thy love profound. Guard the unconscious head. Let not the bow be bent, — The unseen arrow stay ; Each lurking ill prevent, By night, and through the day. w TO And when his haven gain'd, Oh ! on that burning shore Where fell disease hath stain'd The land for evermore, Let not the poison'd breath ' Of fever on him fall ; Oh ! stay the hand of death ! Father ! on Thee I call. Bend down thy gracious ear, For Thou alone canst save ; In mercy hear my prayer : Humbly Thy help I crave. A BARK O'ER THE WATERS SPED GAILY AT MORN. A bark o'er the waters sped gaily at mom : Alas ! ere the evening, 't was vanished and gone, And the roar of the tempest, the foam, and the spray, Swept over the spot where in beauty it lay. Thus youth's early mom, with fair promise, is bright ; Where is its fulfilment ere cometh the night ? Grief's high-surging billows have shut out the dawn. And the life-boat lies stranded — a wreck all forlorn. 71 Like the mist of the valley, which quickly hath fled From the spot where so deeply it gathered and spread — Like the down of the thistle, one moment 't is there, And the next it is borne far away on the air. Like a beautiful flow'r, at beginning of day, By careless hand plucked and flung worthless away ; Cmshed and broken its bright leaves, its loveliness fled, As it lies all unheeded, low, low with the dead. Like the leaves in the autumn so lowly that lie. Softly muffling the footsteps of those who pass by. Like the stream whose sweet music, enchanting and low, Is silenced and hushed when cold wintiy winds blow. Like all these, our hopes soon have perished and gone. As the bark, and the mist, and the flower at morn — As the leaves and the music by running stream given. One by one, from our grasp they by time are all riven. Oh ! well, well for us that there is a bright land, Where flowers ne'er perish, and on whose far strand Our barks may find haven, where never shall roll The deep waves of sorrow, to shatter the soul. ss 72 - «' STANZAS. .' Oh ! had I wand of fairy, I would strew thy path with flow'rs ; Ne'er again should sharp thorn spring Amidst thy sunny bowers. Oh I had I wand of fairy, I would bathe thy brow in light. Whose rays should never more be quenchd In sorrow's dark'ning night. Id cast my magic round thee, And, o'er thy lovely head, No thick cloud there should gather, But rainbow-hues be spread. Oh ! ha" I wand of fairy. Thy tears should fade away. And a smile rest on thy sweet lip That should never more decay. This rough world's bitter jarrings Should not cause thee one sad sigh, — Thy heart should ne'er be wnmg again By misery's sharp cry. Oh I had I wand of fairy, I'd touch thy mem'ry's string. So that, when thou swept the chords, No sadden'd thoughts 't would bring. I \ i ■■Hi l^ ' 73 But all the hours of brightness O'er thy early days that pass'd, Should cheer thee with their Hghlness, While memory should last. Oh ! had I wand of fairy, Never round thee there should breathe The cold, the false, the heartless, That with honied words deceive ; Nor those who in their selfish love (If love we can it call), Would make thy life a slavery, And thy free will enthral. Thus would I use its magic, Had I a fairy's wand ; Till thy spirit took its flight. This hollow world beyond. OH! WJlEEl) MAY NOT SORROW ENTER? Oh ! where may not sorrow enter ? Can the palace be secure ? Can gold, with its lordly power. To her bar fast the door ? Will she flee from the step of beauty ? Or shall youth bid her come not nigh ? Can the strong, in their strength, defy her, Or scatblessly pass her by ? mmmmm^ wtmt 74 Can the ear laid on downy pillow, Shut out the sound of her wail ? Or curtains, so soft and costly, Cause her dread footsteps to fail ? Nay ! neither hall nor castle, Though stately and proud they be. Can bid, from their noble portals, The pale form of soitow flee. She heeds not the bidding of any, But alike sp .;ds her darkest pall O'er the home of the cottager lowly — O'er palace, o'er castle, and hall. She will stand by the downiest pillow. And the gem-circled head shall droop ; For the touch of her cold wan finger Makes the strongest and stoutest stoop. In the early morning watches, In the mid-day's blazing light, In the soft dim twilight hours, In the darkness and gloom of night. She will come, for no time she heedeth. To all places, all climes, she bears The shaft whose rank, bitter poison. Turns laughfpr and mirth to tears. On earth none can 'scape her arrows. The pierc'd heart can only wail. And wait, with an eager longing, For the home she may not asstiil. mmm to LINES. Thou art far away, on a foreign strand, And the bright and gay round thee throng ; But I know there is nought in that distant land That can comfort thy heart for long. I know at the dim silent hour of eve. When the twilight is fading away. That thy thoughts all the objects around thee leave. And roam far o'er the ocean's spray. And the tear will rise, and the sigh will swell, As thou think'st of thy forest home, — Of the lonely hearth, where thy love doth dwell — Ah ! why did fate bid thee roam ? 'T is a cruel lot, to be severed so, From all that the earth holds dear ; To drag out, in loneliness, grief, and woe. The hours of the long, long year. There are fears in the day, and wild terror by night. Should the wind in its fury rage high ; There are tears, all unreckd of. ere morning light Sheds its ray o'er the gloomy sky. There are thoughts ever ready to start, and fill The mind with a blank despair ,' Imaginings dark, that one may not still, All, a weary sad load to b(3ar. \ i ^6 Oh ! who, that has loved with a woman's heart, And hath breathed that bleak word farewell, Hath not found that the breast sheathes full many a dart That poisons too deeply life's well. That wave upon wave, ere the loved one returns, O'erwhelms with a nameless dread — That hope's sweet ray trembles, and faintly bums, And we sigh for the hght it once shed. I know that the thought often gives thee pain, — That these lonely hours are mine ; But my yearning affection in vain, in vain, Would waft thee to me, o'er the brine ! DEATH'S STREAM. Rapid river ! rolling onward ! RolUng onward, without stay, I, perchance, shall stem thy dark waves Ere there dawn another day. I am weary of life's turmoil. Heart and spirit long have striven 'Gainst the evil in my nature — 'Gainst the sin that shuts out heaven. ■i 77 art Satan's temptings, deep and subtle, Ever urging something wrong, And with cunning, hid devices. Leading captive souls along. Ever near us — ever ready ! Watching for th' unguarded hour ; Watching, with a fiendish patience, Us to lure to his fell pow'r. Weak and weary with the conflict. Oft with tears and prayers sustained, Sometimes sinking, almost conquered, Mind and body sorely strained. Oh ! dark river I on thy bosom My frail boat I would embark ; Thou alone can quench the evil Kindled here by smallest spark. On thy banks I'm now reposing, Waiting for thy tide to roll O'er me ; and, within its surges, Back to bear my ransomed soul. To bear it to the shore, where never The tempter's foot can come in quest ; Where ne'er again shall evil promptings Break its peaceful, glorious rest. n J THINK OF THEE. m I THINK of thee when sprmg's soft breath The violet's perfume steals ; "When golden cowslips stud the banks, And bird its anthem peals. I think of thee in summer time, When gorgeous beauty reigns. Decking, with many varied hues, The valley, hills, and plains. I think of thee when autumn leaves, In silent sorrow, fall ; Spreading o'er the departed flowers ' thick and heavy pall. I think of thee when wintry winds Are blowing, keen and strong ; When nature sleeps the sleep of death. And birds have hush'd their song. I think of thee at morning's light, I think of thee at noon, I think of thee when gently full The soft rays of the moon. 7» 1 think of thee in many an hour, When darkness covers all. When other, lighter hearts, perchance, Are wrapt in sleep's sweet thrall. There's not a season of the year. There's not an hour, or day, That thou, my own beloved one, Art from my thoughts away. And is it thus with thee, beloved ? Do thy thoughts constant dwell On her who gives her whole heart's strength To loving thee so well ? I know thy mind has many cares — Stern duty calls thee, oft. And leaves nor space nor time to dwell On love's entrancing thought ; But when the labour of the day Is o'er, and evening aprt^ads Her mantle o'er the earth, and on Thy heart her influence sheds, Then doth thy fancy wing her flight. Far from that clime away — Far o'er the deep sea, that divides, To where I lonely stray ? Dost thou then sigh for vanished hours, And long for that bright day, When, from my side, duty no more Shall call thy steps away '.' ' k'>>«'^addle, while the light bark flies. Sft'igaft and rapid is its flight, tSiirely 'tis mov'd by arm of might ; Nay, 't is a hand of softest mould The dipping paddle doth enfold. And lovely too, of perfect form, i ; That hand alone a heart might storm. But how describe the form and face. So matchless in its native grace. Of that dark Indian girl, who now Hath touch'd the sliore with the light pro\\ Of her frail boat, and with a bound, Light as the chamois on t-he ground, Her dainty foot, in mocassin. The sandy beach scarce print leaves in ? Her clear brown oval check display 'd A warm soft tint, exertion made M 82 Still deeper than its wont the glow That there in beauty rested now. Her eyes, that lake was not more bright Than they in their full dazzUng light, And yet at times (as now) they fell Melting and soft. Surely love's spell Alone hath power to subdue And mellow eyes of such a hue. Her raven hair, in massive braid, A coronet unrivall'd made ; While silver bead was here and there Mingled amidst its tresses rare. A child of nature ! yet a queen Bore not a nobler, statelier mien. ^^«, Her kirtle (broider'd with the hair Pluck'd from the throat of the moose deer. In many varied colours dyed With juice from forest plants supplied) Scarce reached her ankle, which was hid By legging, richly wrought with bead. Oh ! what had haughty titled dame Given that fairy foot to claim, Which peep'd beneath that kirtle bright, Claiming and rivetting the sight ? ■) One glance around she quickly cast, One small harid o'er her brow she passed, As if deep thought was gathering there, And then the slightest shade of care Gleam 'd in her eye, and her fair head Was bent, as list'ning for the tread Of some lov'd foof, nor bent in vain, For ere the dying light did wane, Quick through the tangled unden^ood A light but manly footstep trod. The life-blood throbs within her breast, As though 't would burst her sillten vest, While every pulse does wildly beat. As, the next moment, at her feet There kneels one who had taught, too well, Her heart to tremble with love's spell. Oh ! Httle reck'd he who thus knelt. Of love as deep as Una felt ; Or else, perchance, he might have stayVl The hand that his poor victim slay'd. Her heart untutor'd in the wiles Of fashion's falsest tears and smiles. Untainted in its pure fresh thought. With fondest true affection fraught. This her first love : her haughty soul Ne'er bent before 'neath its control, Though suitors of her own wild race Had oftimes soug1»> to win her grace ; Rut when he cami 'he Strang' T-guest, The tlame was kindl I in her breast ; And there it burnt, still gaining -^way And strength with each successive day, Till, like a lava ti'le, its roll Engulph'd her inmost Ufe and soul. This stranger, to their hunting ground, Had welcome from her dark tribe found. And in her father's own wigwam Was siieJ lor'd from the sun and storm ; IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) ^ 1.0 I.I 1.25 -US 1^ 50 ™^^ inHHH 1^ Ilia 2.0 US 1.8 U 1116 V] V) ^;. .^ '^ '/ Photographic Sciences Corporation -€■- ^ 33 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER.N V. 14580 (7.*; 072-4503 4' ^ ^ m 84 But, tired of their wild sport, he ^ ' ■ ' ' Had often left their conVpahy '^^^ (When in the chase they wa:ndered far) And turned to seek this one bright star. While all his soul's deep pow'rs he lends To bend her to his own dark ends. In her own language he wias skill'd, And from his tongue its accents thrill'd Through her whole frame, as, hour by hour, She listen'd to its magic pftw'!*. *'" ' ' ^ What other language half so well The honied words of love could tell ? But false his tones ! deep, deep th6 art That lurk'd within his harden'd heart — Harden'd indeed, or else one ray* ""^ -- Of pity there hftd found its way : That mine of lovte by Una giv'n *^ Had tum'd His thoughts from earth to heav'n ; Had bid him smile at Worldly pride. And make that Indian girl his bride. ^ Passion alone his pulses thrill'd. And with its might the conscience still'd ; And, his own sel6sh purpose gain'd, ' This forest flow'r he now disdain 'd. And on that very eve had come To bid adieu to her wild home. ^ ^^ Lords of creation ! well ye claim For selfishness undying fame ! '"' What ! could not one bright peerless stajr Shine in that western forest far, r mmmm» wm wm^fmmmmmmmmmm mmmmmmmmm 86 i ! But thou must drag it from its sky, ■ And quench its light in misery ? • ■ ' Could not one flow'r — one wild, wild rose Remain in undisturbed repose, But thou must tear it from the stem Where it grac'd nature's diadem. And, robb'd of all its sweetness, fling It to the ground, a worthless thing ? Leave me ! ah, no ! thou speak'st to prove My true and never-dying love ; Breathe not such words again, for deep The pain that through my heart doth creep. Though idle all, and playful said, A shudder through my frame hath sped. Could Una live, and thou away ? Oh ! what to her would be the day Or night — sunshine or storm — Chill winter, or the spring's breath, warm ? What unto her, earth, sea, or sky, If thou, her heart's pulse, were not nigh?" Nay, Una, listen, 't is no jest : . Banish my image from thy breast. Forget that thou hast ever seen One who too happy here has been. And whose heart bleeds that he must roam Now, far away from thy sweet home. Look not so strangely, some fond heart 'Mongst thine own race a lover's part Will play, and time will quickly blot Me from thy memVys hidden spot. ji' •' One last fond kiss, Una ! farewell ! " And he is gone ; yet from the spell ^t.f\ His fearful words had o'er her thrown She wakes not ; but with low sad moan, Falls to the ground ; her dark eyes close, As though in death's last still repoSe ; But not for long, soon the hot blood Leaps through her pulses like a flood : She gains her feet, he is not there ! One shriek, piteous in its despair — One sudden plunge — and all is o'er ? The dark-eyed Una lives no more. That shriek had through the forest sped, And chill'd the breast of him who fled With terror, for he knew too well It was a broken heart's last knell. He sought again that fair lake's side, There the canoe, by Una tied. Still lay ; but ne'er again her hand Shall waft it o'er to yonder strand. " Una ! " he caUs : echo alone Answers his wild imploring tone. The large drops on his cold brow stand. For there, just wash'd upon the land. One tiny mocassin now hes, And sequel to his doubt supplies. ^-. Till break of day he watch'd the spot, Then tum'd and fled, but ne'er forgot Through life : still that desparing scream Haunted him waking, and each dream ^mmmmmmmmmmmiimm immmm 87 Of midnight bore him to the lake Where he that last farewell did take ; And, canker'd with remorse, his life Was one sad round of weary strife ; Warring against an unseen hand That beckon'd him from that far strand, Pointing with spectral finger where Lost Una's dark eyes coldly stare In death's fix'd gaze ; until, at last, Reason bow'd down before the blast ; And in a raving maniac's cell. The clanking irons round him fell. ( i THINGS MOST DEAR MUST CHANGE. Things most dear must change, As Time onward flutters : 'Neath his swift wing's range, Decay her sad voice utters : Gleaming tresses, bright. Soon must loose their brightness Fairy footsteps, light. Bid adieu to hghtness. Eyes, that thrill the heart With their sparkling glances, Shall no joy impart As grim Time advances. i^JipiOBP^ m ^^fwp 88 I » Lips, whose rosy hue ^, * : -,, , Tempt love's sweetest kisses, They must mingle, too, With departed blisses. , Voices that we prize, Filling us with pleasure, ; , Waftilig to the skies Some soul-stirring measure, Soon no more shall sing ; Or the taper finger On th' enchanted string Sweetly, fondly hnger. Graceful, floating forms. With your fair proportions. Rounded, dimpled arms. Age, with its distortions, Shall ye sadly change : . , Wrinkled, withered, hoary — It will then seem strange How all did adore ye. But the heart that's true, Time can never alter — Ne'er can change its hue, Till its pulses falter ; Till the feeble breath Altogether ceaseth. And the throes of death The spirit, bright, releaseth. "^ ^ »i"r!^?^ ^^^amm. ^ V'' # ri J} ! (I ip.. . i »• J ii, I /* t ; ■ 1 MAY SING A MERRY STRAIN. I MAY sing a merry strain, Deem not, because I do. That my breast is free from pain, That my heart is merry too. The song may still be gay. And on the lip a smile. And yet the heart, there, may Be breaking all the while. The world may never know ^ The griefe that inwarxj lie, Nor see the tears that flow In secret from the eye ; When lips with laughter ring, Oh ! little does it guess How deeply sorrow's sting Has poisoned happiness. How little does it know The thoughts that thickly throng, Bidding the mem'ry flow Back to days fled and gone ; And now, perchance, the lay That on tto ear doth swell. Though it be light and gay. Comes up ft'om sorrow's well. H .90 Thus, as I sing the song Taught by those far away — Unto better mansions gone, Where joy doth ne'er decay — The voices that the hush Of death hath sunk in sleep, Still o'er my mem'ry rush, And I could wildly weep. ;i! ■:'(.) WHAT SHALL I SING? What shall I sing thee ? Would'st thou recall Hoiurs long vanish'd Spent in love's thrall — Hours that fleeted Swiftly away. With time's wing gilded In hope's bright ray ? Little thou thought'st then, In thy spring's mom, How summer roses Hid the sharp thorn ; How, midst life's garden, Seemingly fair, Lurk'd the dread sei*pent. Twining his snare ! mmmm 91 What shall I sing thee ? Time hath swept on, With dreary footsteps Since those days gone ; Wherefore recall them ? What but regret Could fill thy bosom ? Better foi^et! Better to let them , Sleep in the cave Where mem'ry laid them, In its deep grave ; Calmly they slumber, Let them alone, Stir not the curtain Over them thrown. -\, : , Then bid me sing thee Songs never heard, By whose gay numbers Ne'er shall be stirr'd Thy soul's emotion, ? v And whose light strain Shall bring no visions Thy heart to pain. 92 . »'»li; \i'--i^^ i ilcili" tX:A ' skv. m Oh ! blossoms of the summer time ! Ye will return again ; And still the golden com shall wave, Therp on that barren plain. And birds once more shall stir the air With their sweet minstrelsy ; And tree and bow'r, in emerald garb, Be filled with melody. But when again shall bloom dead hopes ? Alfis ! once they have fled. No breath of spring shall call them forth From out their wintry bed. Year after year heaps up the soil That on their grave doth press ; Oh ! never can they crown again Life, with their loveliness. The spring that dawns when time shall die Alone from out the tomb Shall bid those wither'd buds yet glow In full firuition's bloom. 100 WOMAN'S LOVE. And dids't thou think true woman's love Was bom of mortal mould ? Ah, no ! in realms far, far above, It claims its birthright's hold ! Thou hast road little of its page Still less hath felt its force — To deem that aught can e'er assuage, Or turn it from its course. Life's storms, when once it taketh root. May rage, but rage in vain ; • They may not crush its smallest shoot, Or one bright blossom stain. It knows no thought of self — no thought Of wrong, of sUght, of ill ; 'T is as a furtive sunbeam caught, With light the heart to fill. With light so brilliant that no shade Without, however dark. Hath pow'r to penetrate and fade. Or quench one glowing spark. Oh ! mighty power ! earth hath no claim To call thee child of hers. And yet, how oft thy pure, bright, flame Amidst her haunts appears. mim MB mmmmm tmm mmmmmmmmmm"''^ 101 How many a grave as inmate holds The heart where thou hast dwelt ? How many a winding-sheet enfolds The form that daily knelt, > And prayed, with deep and fervent pray'r. For one all worshipp'd still — For one who 'd caused the burning tear Of shame those eyes to fill ? Oh ! woman's love ! quenchless in death — Deep as the pathless sea — Unchanging, till the latest breath Floats to eternity ! STANZAS TO D- And once again, dear kindred heart. We've met, and still unchang'd As in the hour when we did part — Time neither has estrang'd ! Years, not a few, have waned since we Wept out the word Farewell ! And now, as then, I feel for thee Friendship's deep, potent spell. MMPMPPIiipPW* •^f/mmm 102 ,/^ I see thy pure, true soul, look forth t From out those honest eyes ; ., 'T is not their beauty, but the worth That in them dwells, I prize. ^ ; \ t Since last their light upon me beam'd, I Ve turned fiill many a leaf Within life's book, o'er me has stream'd Knowledge of joy and grief. And still, through all, the sister's love That fills my heart for thee, A love that's registered above Firm in its purity, Has wan'd not, but still brightly bums As when was lit the flame ; And year by year my spirit learns To bless the hour thou came To my far home — to bless the hour That gave to me and mine The friendship, mighty in its pow'r And truth, of thee and thine. Time's ruthless hand may steal the charm That pleased our youthful eyes : The heart ! the heart ! he cannot harm Its beauty never dies. Good, Mthful soul ! thy coming's thrown A clear beam o'er my way ; And though too soon again thou 'rt gone, Still brighter seems the day. «ipilill|«>li«ll>flP^I||n^PlliiM|ipPMnHiP •^mmfnimt 103 '•I And lighter on me seems to press Life 8 petty ills and cares, For thou 'st recalled I'ue hopefulness Of youth's confiding years. And may it be our fate yet oft To meet, till this life's o'er ; Then, in the mansions up aloft, Once met, we part no more. liy^ :i'i. •T IS SWEET, T IS BLESS'D TO MEET AGAIN. 'T IS sweet, 't is bless'd to meet again The friends of early youth, And find that time has left undimm'd Their honesty and truth. 'Midst the wide world of chance and change. What joy the heart does thrill. When, meeting, after partings long, We whisper — " unchang'd still ! " Few stand the test, alas ! how few ! Of absence and of years ; Friendship's sweet blossom dieth oft — Too seldom fruit it bears. mmmmmm mmmmmm 104 My hopes full many a time I've fix'd On buds, that promis'd fair ; But when I came to mark their growth, Alas ! the blight was there. ^ v\ i But the few buds that time has brought To full perfection's bloom, Radiant in beauty, still shall grow, Till life sink to the tomb. ■^ ' ; With such 't is doubly sweet to meet, Amidst this world's false crowd ; To feel that time has not the pow'r Their hearts with change to shroud. Brightly they shine, like rarest gems, With lustre true and pure ; Unshaken, let what will betide, Their friendship will endure. . '■ iy"ir:)'i1''-"t'- ^' in.X''"'w"i.-^i.\ 105 STANZAS. '\ I KNOW that in the world there are The vain, the false, the cold, And those who, putting worth aside, Bow down themselves to gold. I know that many seem to be Not what they are, alas ! The coin is base, though to the world As true it still may pass. The heart that long has nurs'd deceit May show a front so fair, That few could guess, amidst life's crowd. The plague-spot rested there. But tell me not that all are false — Shake not the faith I hold. That there are some, and not a few. Who, not for sordid gold, And not for what this world can give — Not for its worthless praise — Would bid their souls one moment turn From truth's pure, guileless ways. Who, all forgetful of themselves. Live but for others weal ; Oh ! let me still hold this belief- Let me through life thus feel. w m 106 H>RK, ON MY EAR. Habk ! on my hear Falls a low note, Now a sweet song Round me does float ; Break not the spell, Still let me list, For 'tis a strain Long I have miss'd. Lost since the days Of my bright youth, When those around Seemed all truth. Why do the tears Fall thick and fast, As it brings back Days long since past ? Days that to me Were fill'd with light Now buried in Oblivion's night. V 107 Why do I weep ? Tears cannot bring Back the lov'd voice That thus did sing. Why in my dreams Comes back the sound, Waking my heart From peace 't had found- Stirring the chords Of mem'ry's lute, That have been long Silent and mute ? ( Yet I would list, Though 't is with pain- Though my heart break With the sweet strain ;- Though it recall Days ever fled, Ne'er to return Back from the dead. Hush! not a sound! ^ ' Let me list on ! One by one, fast, Vanish'd scenes throng- Beaiing me forth From things that are, To distant climes. To a land far — w^smmmm 108 Bringing to light Faces and forms Long that have slept, Far from earth's storms. Oh, lov'd, lov'd tones, Once gaily heard. When shaU be stUl'd ^ Mem'ries ye Ve stirred ? i ; HEART-WORN AND WEARY ! Heabt-worn and weary. Sigh out thy life ; Why longer struggle Midst the world's strife ? Oh ! stay thy throbbings, Still thy wild beat. Rest thee — oh ! rest thee ! In repose, sweet. Mournful thy wailings Over hopes crush'd — Over affections Whose chords are hush'd. ^mm 10.9 Sad and appalling, Life seems to thee Cold and unstaple As waves of the sea. None to rely on — Those that did seem Fondest and truest — Oh ! sad, sad theme — Have with the changeful Grown chang'd and cold ! Tale full of sorrow ! Too often told. Dreary thy meanings — Cease thee, oh ! cease ; Earth has no power To bring thee peace. Earth has no comfort, Earth has no rest ; False, cold, and fickle Is she at best. Heart-sore and bleeding Sigh out thy life ; Why longer struggle Midst the world's strife ? no X / TO Oh ! say not we should happier be If thou had'st gone from earth ; The olace thou hold'st could ne'er be filled Beside the household heai'th. No other form, no other face, Though beautiful they be, Could ever be what thou hast been, 'Midst thy life's destiny. What other tongue could speak as thine ? What eye so purely beam ? What heart so kindly, warmly beat ? What smile so sunny gleam '? I've listened to thy magic tones, And felt earth's ills decay ; Have felt from off my sky of Ufe The dark clouds drift away : I've looked into thy pure deep eyes. With all their w^rld of thought. And oh ! the depth and might of love They in my bosom wrought ! I've read the beauty of thy heart, As 't were a page of light. Till on my own, reflected back. There stream 'd a rav all bright. * wmm 111 And thy sweet smile hath pow'v to soothe. And, with its winning grace, To make the dim eye brightly beam, And sorrow's tear efface. Oh, no ! oh, no ! there is not one Could fill thy place on earth ; Where thou art m)t, the light shall flee For ever from the hearth. OH, LITTLE YE RECK f Oh ! little ye reck of the heavy tears That in secret and silence I shed. Or how my heart sinks 'neath the load it bears. And throbs with a nameless dread. Ye look ii I iny eyes and may deem them bright. Ye thinlv that my spirit is gay ; But oh, in tlif; long, weary hours of n^ght, Forced gaiety fadeth away. Then over me sweeps, with resistless sway, The tide of my life s lonely lot, Ana sad thoughts, that I crush in the sunshine's play, Will up from their hiding spot. \ \ 112 M And my spirit bends down with the heavy load, And over me hovers despair, As I strive to look forth on my fixture road. And mark the clouds gathering there. My brain it rocks wildly with weight of thought. In vain I would bid its pulse cease ; Oh ! why is not sleep to mine eyelids brought — The sleep that alone bringeth peace ? LINES. The ills of life, the ills of hfe ! What are they, after all ? This world, with all its petty strife. Must soon in fragments fall. Why do we weep for what must be, At worst, a passing cloud ? Why let ti e darkness, that will flee, With gloom the mind enshroud ? The little space of mortal life Is as a midnight dream ; As transitory, and as rife With things that only seem. X, Mli ft Reality can ne'er be found, Save in the world on high ; It never dwells where still the sound Of chance and change doth cry. Then let me fling my fancied grief, My sighs, my tears, away ; Since life below is much too brief To waste in misery. ril bid avaunt each thought of gloom, And teach my heart to rise. From out its sorrow-darken'd tomb. To pleasant memories. I'll wake the music of the past — Forget the present hour — And, with that mantle round me cast, Unfelt the cloud shall low'r. There's many a chord so sweet and true, That needs but touch the string To chase away life's dreary hue, And back the shadows fling. Then let me no more sadly dwell On ills that with time fall ; But, with strong will, each sad thought quell. And burst from sorrow's thrall. Q 114 WHY SHOULD TEARS AND SIGHS Why should tears and sighs Find with me a dwelling ? I will stay their rise — I will check their swelling ; Bid the struggling sob Back to its recesses : Why should mem'ry rob Life of all that blesses ? What can e'er restore Flow'rs once crush'd and broken ? Vainly we deplore — Vain each wild word spoken ; Back we may not bring The sweet perfume scatter'd, Or new verdure fling Round the bright stem shatter 'd. So the hopes of youth, By Time's cold hand wither'd — Fancy lost in tmth, And its bright wings shiver'd — Lost, for ever lost, Never back returning. Though, by earth's storms tost, We for them are voarnin«. 115 Vain the tears and sighs I We may weep for ever ! Time wails as it flies Never, never, never, Never can I hring Back those hours, so cherish 'd ; I a requiem sing O'er their brightness, perish 'd. Then, oh ! wasting teai'. Stay your idle flowing. Ye but nurse despair In my heart that 's gi'owing ; Ye but quench the ray Of hope that might lighten Life's rough, dreary way, fei And its dark hours brighten. Back ! unto your fount. Tears, ye fall unbidden ; Sighs, ye shall not mount. Back ! when ye are chidden. I will wreathe my lip With the smiles of gladness, Pleasures bright draught sip. Till I quench this sadness. 11(> ONCE r I.OV'D THEE MADLY. Once I lov'd thee madly, * Now the dream is o'er ; Look not on me sadly — Cease me to implore. Vain the sigh, the tear, the groan. They move not my heart of stone. Once, thy lightest tone Made each quick pulse thrill ; Now, within life's throne, .. .. All is hush'd and still. ^^^^ Kneel not, in thy wild despair, Love's last echoes have died there. Once you spum'd the love That you now would claim, Mercy from above Quench'd the wasting flame- Quench'd it in the tears that fell O'er thy heartless, cold farewell. Yes ! my spuit, freed, Bends no more to thee ; In thy hour of need. Calm my heart can be ; Calmly can I see deep woe O'er thy face its shadow throw. mmmH'im ^mmmmimm 117 Yet I spum thee not, As thou me hast spurn "d. Anger is forgot — Its lamp out has bum'd ; But, in cold indifference, I Hear thee breathe love's fervent sigh. Yes ! in vain, in vain ! Cease your wild lament ; If love's arrows pain, Thou the bow has bent — Thou hast wing'd the shaft that stings, And to thy bosom anguish brings. TO -f4 Oh ! that I had wings. Bright, and strong, and free ; Swift would be my flight, My belov'd, to thee. Quicldy would I leave This cold, dreary land. And with song of joy, Seek that distant strand. Other lands, perchance, May be brighter far, Unto me it seems Like some brilliant star ; *K. 118 f/ I'^or, where thou dost dwell, Drear though it should be, Like a heavenly sphere Must appear to me. Oh ! that, like the dove, To its much-loved nest, I could wing my way Where for me is rest ; Then from every ill, Joyously, I 'd flee. Grief and pain must die Near thee, belov'd, near Ihec. THE AUTUMN WIND'S LAMeW,' List to the autumn wind, sobbing — Plaintive its tone — Seeming to murmur, in sorrow, Summer is gone ; Summer, with dl its warm sunshine, All its bright flow'rs. Summer, with all its soft zephyrs, All its glad hours. All its rich verdure hath perish 'd, Wither'd and dead ; The nuisical hum of tho insect, The song of bird, ilcd. 119 (.'old hung the clouds in tliu houvons, A paradise of lovfe and light. " " Alas ! how chang'd seems all to be, If^ How perish 'd all my visions bright P--'^ Away, away, wake not my heart To weep its bitter tears again — Those burning tears that sting and smart. And leave a dark, undying stain. ,-V>!fi .i^: 1 Stir not again the heavy sighs That swell'd my breast when youth's dream fled ; Oh, bark ! with all your memories, Float back and rest among the dead. ^PVii^pnpp 121 rilY NAMK. % I WHISPER thy name when the morning Light tinges the sky, And 1 trust that the pray'r I breathe with it Is wafted on high ; For I crave ev'i-y blessing upon thee Our Father can shed — That in mercy and love He will keep thee Fr6m danger and dread. ! I whisper thy name through the hours Of the long, weary day (For drearily, slowly, time passes "^ When thou art away), And even when sleep holds my eyelids With its iron chain, *I know in my dreams it is whisper 'd, Again and again. When the shadows of twilight are deep'ning, And the stars, one by one, With their soft, wakeful eyes, 'gin their watching O'er the earth still lone. When the hurry, the noise, and the bustle Of life's busy game Is hush'd, in that mystical hour, I whisper thy name. B 122 £ whisper it softly and gently To the 8tars, as they shine, And I ask if thine eyes are then resting On them, as are mine. And I long to be up where they gUsten, Thy far land to see. And watch, with the eye of affection, The spot that holds thee. I whisper it to the night breezes That blow o'er my cheek. And whose murmurings, unto my fancy; Seem almost to sf^ak ; And I bid them to waft o'er the deep sga A token of love, And tell thee my heart, while j From thee ne'er will rove: I whisper it unto my spirit, ^And bid it be still, — And hush its fond longings and yearnings, And stay each wild thrill, *, An4 calm all it^ fears and its doubtings, That oft-times gain sway, And in patience bear on through the darkness, And watch for the day. . \ i.^ \2n ALONE! ALONE! Ai,ONE ! alone ! o'er the far, deep sea, Dwells tlie only heart that now throbs for mo. Oh ! why may I not to that true heart fly, Or away from it, here, in my sadness, die ? Alone I alone ! o'er the past I weep, In the silent hours when others sleep ; I jugp 4jgji t he days when a spirit, fond, DfcNll^0P|lilied feelings to mine respond. Alone ! alone t oh, thait spirit, bright, Hath felt the breath of time'^ chillin? blight, And the hand of change hath the notes unstrung, That once such sweet melody round me flung. ■M Alone I alone ! I pine for the tone And the looks of affection now past and gone ; Ah ! would that for me they might speak once more As they did in the clear sunny days of yore. Alone ! alone ! through the long, long day, To me passes wearily time on its way ; The sun may shine bright, or the dark clouds weep. Blow the /ephyr, or storm winds in wildness swocp. 124 Alone ! alone ! unreckd of, unfelt, The frost-king may girdle the earth with his belt, Or the warm breeze of summer kiss gently my cheek, Alike they no comfort unto me may speak. Alone ! alone ! the bright beaming ray, That shone with such radiance across my bleak way, Fast, fast is declining, the dark shades of night Will soon shut it out from my strain'd earnest sight. Alone ! alone ! oh, the vine is torn. And affection's crush 'd tendrils hang all folrloni ; The cold wintry wind, with its freezing breath, Hath over it swept, like the hand cf death. Alone ! alone ! oh, my aching heart Re-echoes the word in its inmost part, Till weary of life, and of all around. It longeth to shut out for ever the sound. M 125 r ' STANZAS. There's now a cloud upon thy brow, That ever seems to stay ; There's now a look within thine eye, That passes not away — A look of sorrow and of care — A look that makes me weep— Alas ! that ever such a shade Should o'er thy features sweep. ' - n Oh ! for the bright and glowing smile m %, That once, with sunny ray, Lit up tlat matchless "" 'V,