<|8>. 
 
 J^.*?! 
 
 IMAGE EVALUATION 
 TEST TARGET (MT-3) 
 
 .<» 
 
 '4^ 
 
 
 ^o 
 
 1.0 
 
 I.I 
 
 ■ 50 "^ 
 
 m 
 
 us 
 lit 
 
 lAO 
 
 6" 
 
 — 
 
 12.2 
 
 L25 114 11.6 
 
 % 
 
 ^ 
 
 // 
 
 
 '/ 
 
 % *> > ..^ '^^ 
 
 Photographic 
 
 Sciences 
 
 Corporation 
 
 23 Wi^ST MAIN STREET 
 
 WEBSTER, N.Y. 14SS0 
 
 (716) 872-4503 
 
 \ 
 
 ^ 
 
 \\ 
 
 rv 
 
 
 6^ 
 
 ^ 
 
 ^. 
 
 ^ 
 
 ■^ 
 
 '^ 
 
A 
 
 ^4. 
 
 ^o 
 
 J i 
 
 CIHM/ICMH 
 
 Microfiche 
 
 Series. 
 
 CIHIVI/ICMH 
 Collection de 
 microfiches. 
 
 Canadian Institute for Historical Microreproductions / Institut Canadian de microreproductions historiques 
 
 ^ 
 
Technical and Bibliographic Notes/Notes techniques et bibliographiques 
 
 The( 
 to th 
 
 The Institute has attempted to obtain the best 
 original copy available for filming. Features of this 
 copy which may be bibliographically unique, 
 which may alter any of the images in the 
 reproduction, or which may significantly change 
 the usual method of filming, are checked below. 
 
 D 
 
 D 
 
 D 
 
 D 
 
 
 D 
 
 Coloured covers/ 
 Couverture de couleur 
 
 □ Cavers damaged/ 
 Coi 
 
 tuverture endommagde 
 
 Covers restored and/or laminated/ 
 Couverture restaurde et/ou pellicul6e 
 
 I I Cover title missing/ 
 
 Le titre de couverture manque 
 
 I I Coloured maps/ 
 
 Cartes g^ographiques en couleur 
 
 Coloured ink (i.e. other than blue or black)/ 
 Encre de couleur (i.e. autre que bleue ou noire) 
 
 I I Coloured plates and/or illustrations/ 
 
 D 
 
 Planches et/ou illustrations en couleur 
 
 Bound with other material/ 
 Reli6 avec d'autres documents 
 
 Tight binding may cause shadows or distortion 
 along interior margin/ 
 
 La re liure serr^e peut causer de I'ombre ou de la 
 distortion le long de la marge intdrieure 
 
 Blank leaves added during restoration may 
 aopear within the text. Whenever possible, these 
 have been omitted from filming/ 
 II se peut que certaines pages blanches ajout6es 
 lors d'une restauration apparaissent dans le texte, 
 mais, lorsque cela 6tait possible, v^es pages n'ont 
 pas 6t6 fiimies. 
 
 Additional comments:/ 
 Commentaires suppidmentaires; 
 
 L'Institut a microfilm^ le meilleur exemplaire 
 qu'il lui a 6t6 possible de se procurer. Les details 
 de cet exemplaire qui sont peut-dtre uniques du 
 point de vue bibliographique, qui peuvent modifier 
 une image reproduite, ou qui peuvent exiger une 
 modification dans la mdthode normale de filmage 
 sont indiqu6s ci-dessous. 
 
 I I Coloured pages/ 
 
 D 
 
 Pages de couleur 
 
 Pages damaged/ 
 Pages endommag6es 
 
 Pages restored and/oi 
 
 Pages restaurdes et/ou petiiculdes 
 
 Pages discoloured, stained or foxei 
 Pages ddcoior^es, tachetdes ou piqudes 
 
 Pages detached/ 
 Pages ddtach^es 
 
 Showthrough> 
 Transparence 
 
 Quality of prir 
 
 Qualit^ indgale de I'impression 
 
 Includes supplementary materii 
 Comprend du matdriel suppi^mentaire 
 
 Only edition available/ 
 Seule Edition disponible 
 
 I — I Pages damaged/ 
 
 I I Pages restored and/or laminated/ 
 
 I I Pages discoloured, stained or foxed/ 
 
 I I Pages detached/ 
 
 [">' Showthrough/ 
 
 I I Quality of print varies/ 
 
 I I Includes supplementary material/ 
 
 I I Only edition available/ 
 
 Thai 
 poss 
 of th 
 filmii 
 
 Origi 
 
 begii 
 
 the 
 
 sion, 
 
 othei 
 
 first 
 
 sion, 
 
 or illi 
 
 The I 
 shall 
 TINU 
 whic 
 
 Mapt 
 
 diffai 
 
 entiri 
 
 begin 
 
 right 
 
 requii 
 
 meth 
 
 Pages wholly or partially obscured by errata 
 slips, tissues, etc., have been refilmed to 
 ensure the best possible image/ 
 Les pages totalement ou partiellement 
 obscurcies par un feuillet d'errata, une pelure, 
 etc., ont 6t6 filmdes d nouveau de faqon i 
 obtenir la meilleure image possible. 
 
 This item is filmed at the reduction ratio checked below/ 
 
 Ce document est film6 au taux do reduction indiqui ci-dessous. 
 
 
 10X 
 
 
 
 
 14X 
 
 
 
 
 18X 
 
 
 
 
 22X 
 
 
 
 
 26X 
 
 
 
 
 30X 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 / 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 12X 
 
 
 
 
 16X 
 
 
 
 
 20X 
 
 
 
 
 24X 
 
 
 
 
 28X 
 
 
 
 
 32X 
 
The copy filmed here hes been reproduced thanks 
 to the generosity of: 
 
 Thomas Fiiher Rare Bcoit Library, 
 University of 1 oronto Library 
 
 L'exemplaire f\\tn6 fut reprodult grice d la 
 g6nArositA de: 
 
 Thomas Fisher Rare Book Library, 
 University of Toronto Library 
 
 The images appearing here are the best quality 
 possible considering the condition and legibility 
 of the original copy and in keeping with the 
 filming contract specifications. 
 
 Les images suivantes ont 6t6 reproduites avec le 
 plus grand soin, compte tenu de la condition et 
 de la nettet* de l'exemplaire film«, et en 
 conformity avec les conditions du contrat de 
 filmage. 
 
 Original copies in printed paper covers are filmed 
 beginning with the front cover and ending on 
 the last page with a printed or illustrated Impres- 
 sion, or the back cover when appropriate. All 
 other original copies are filmed beginning on the 
 first page with a printed or illustrated impres- 
 sion, and ending on the last page with a printed 
 or illustrated impression. 
 
 The last recorded frame on each microfiche 
 shall contain the symbol ^^ (meaning "CON- 
 TINUED "), or the symbol V (meaning "END"), 
 whichever applies. 
 
 Les exemplaires originaux dont la couverture en 
 papier est imprimie sont filmds en commenpant 
 par le premier plat et en terminant soit par la 
 derniAre page qui comporte une empreinte 
 d'impression ou d'illustration, soit par le second 
 plat, salon le cas. Tous les autres exemplaires 
 originaux sont film6s en commandant par la 
 premiere page qui comporte une empreinte 
 d'impression ou d'illustration et en terminant par 
 la dernidre page qui comporte une telle 
 empreinte. 
 
 Un des symboles suivants apparaitra sur la 
 dernidre image de cheque microfiche, selon le 
 cas: le symbole ^^- signifie "A SUIVRE", le 
 symbols V signifie "FIN". 
 
 Maps, plates, charts, etc., may be filmed at 
 different reduction ratios. Those too large to be 
 entirely included in one exposure are filmed 
 beginning in the upper left hand corner, left to 
 right and top to bottom, as many frames as 
 required. The following diagrams illustrate the 
 method: 
 
 Les cartes, planches, tableaux, etc., peuvent dtre 
 filmis A des taux de reduction diff^rents. 
 Lorsque le document est trop grand pour dtre 
 reprodult en un seul clichd, il est filmd A partir 
 de Tangle sup6rieur gauche, de gauche A droite, 
 et de haut en bas, en prenant le nombre 
 d'images nicessaire. Les diagrammes suivants 
 illustrent la mithode. 
 
 1 
 
 2 
 
 3 
 
 1 
 
 2 
 
 3 
 
 4 
 
 5 
 
 6 
 
1 
 
 
THE 
 
 RlSinrCi VILLAGE, 
 
 WITH 
 
 OTHER POEMS. 
 
m 
 
 ' 
 
 I 
 
THE i!^8 
 
 BISINa VILLAGE, 
 
 WITH 
 
 OTHER POEIfl^. 
 
 BY 
 
 OLIVER GOLDSMITH, 
 
 4 DESCENDANT OK THE AUTHOR OF "THE DESERTED VILLAGE." 
 
 
 SAIXT JOHX, N. B. 
 
 PUBLISHED FOR THE AUTHOR, BY 
 
 JOHN MCMILLAN. 
 
 raiNTED BY HENRY CIUDB, MARKET-SQUARE. 
 
 MDCCCXXXIV. 
 

 TO THE 
 
 INHABITANTS 
 
 OF 
 
 NOVA-SCOTIA AND NEW-BIlUNf^U IfK, 
 
 THIS 
 
 LITTLE VOLUME OF POEMS 
 
 IS INSCRIBED, 
 
 BY THEIR VERY GRATEFUL 
 
 AND OBEDIENT SERVANT, 
 
 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 
 
 x% 
 
tl 
 
 I 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 In presenting this little volume of Poems to the 
 notice of his Countrymen, and the Public in ge- 
 neral, the Author is not without hope that it will 
 merit their approbation, and receive, at their hands, 
 a reasonable share of favor and encouragement ; 
 and while he avails himself of the present oppor- 
 tunity to return his thanks to those friends, who, 
 in the first instance, aided by their advice and 
 assistance his poetical efforts; he begs also to offer 
 his kindest acknowledgments to those who have 
 taken so lively an interest in this publication; and 
 to the expression of his warmest hopes for their 
 individual happiness and comfort, he would add, 
 at the same time, his sincere and ardent wishes 
 for the prosperity and welfare of the Inhabitants 
 of Nova-Scotia and New-Brunswick. 
 
 Saint John, 
 
 October 1, 1834. 
 
i 
 
 '^^^i 
 
i 
 
 TO 
 
 HENRY GOLDSMITH, ESQ. 
 
 ANNAPOLIS ROVAL. 
 
 My dear Henry, 
 
 Allow me to address this Poem to your no- 
 tice, that in so doing I may gratify the feelings of 
 aflbction which a fond Brother entertains for you. 
 
 The celebrated Author of the *' Deserted 
 Village" has pathetically displayed the anguish 
 of his Countrymen, on behig forced, from various 
 causes, to quit their native plains, endeared to 
 them by so many delightful recollections ; and to 
 seek a refuge in regions at that time unknown, or 
 but little heard of. It would, perhaps, have been 
 a subject of astonishment to him, could he have 
 known, that, in the course of events, some of his 
 
i s- 
 
 X DEDICATION. 
 
 own relations were to be natives of sucli distant 
 countries, and that a grandson of his brother Henry, 
 to whom he dedicated his " Traveller," would first 
 draw his breath at no great distance from the spot 
 where 
 
 " Wild Oswego spreads her swamps around, 
 ** And Niagara stuns with thundering sound." 
 
 In the Rising "Vill ge I have endeavoured to 
 describe the sufferings iiich the early settlers ex- 
 perienced, the difficultj s which they surmounted, 
 the rise and progress ( a young country, and the 
 prospects which pro ise happiness to its future 
 possessors. You, m^ dear Brother, were born in 
 this portion of the globe, and no person can form 
 a better opinion how far I have succeieded in the 
 attempt which I have made, or judge more correct- 
 ly of the truth of the descriptions. 
 
 I remain, my dear Henry, 
 Your affectionate Brother, 
 
 OLIVER GOLDSMITH. 
 
' such distant 
 L'other Henry, 
 '," would first 
 from the spot 
 
 around) 
 r sound." 
 
 ideavoured to 
 
 •ly settlers ex- 
 
 r surmounted, 
 
 ntry, and the 
 
 to its future 
 
 were born in 
 
 rson can form 
 
 ceieded in the 
 
 more correct- 
 
 THE 
 
 RISING VILLAGE. 
 
 ler, 
 .DSMITH. 
 
f 
 
 m 
 
' *■ 
 
 • I 
 
 THE 
 
 RISING VILLAGE. 
 
 it 
 
 
 Thou dear companion of my early years, 
 
 Partner of all my boyish hopes and fears, 
 
 To whom I oft addressed the youthful strain^ 
 
 And sought no other praise than thine to gain \ 
 
 Who oft hast bid me emulate his fame 
 
 Whose genius formed the glory of our name ; 
 
 Say, when thou canst, in manhood's ripened age, 
 
 With judgment scan the more aspiring page. 
 
 Wilt thou accept this tribute of my lay. 
 
 By far too small thy fondness to repay ? • 
 
 Say, dearest Brother, wilt thou now excuse 
 
 This bolder flight of my adventurous muse ? 
 
 B 
 
 « i 
 
 Tr 
 
 I 
 
14 
 
 THE RISING VILLAGE. 
 
 I 
 
 fit 
 
 '! I 
 
 ii ! 
 
 If, then, adown your cheek a tear should flow 
 For Auburn's Village, and its speechless woe ; 
 If, while you weep, you think the " lowly train" 
 Their early joys can never more regain. 
 Come, turn with me where happier prospects rise, 
 Beneath the &ternn6ss of Acadian skied. 
 And thou, dear spirit ! whose harmonious lay 
 Didst lovely Auburn's piercing woes display, 
 Do thou to thy fond relative impart 
 Some portion of thy sweet poetic art ; 
 Like thine. Oh ! let my verse as gently flow. 
 While truth and virtue in my numbers glow : 
 And guide my pen with thy bewitching hand. 
 To paint the Rising Village of thte land. 
 
 How chaste and Splendid are the scenes that lie 
 Beneath the circle of Britannia's sky! 
 What charming prospects there arrest the view, 
 How bright, how varied, and how boundless too f 
 Cities and plains extending fkr and wide, ^ 
 The merchant's glory, and th<j farmer>s pride. 
 
TUB AisiNe vu4-4ee> 
 
 ip 
 
 should flow 
 less woe ; 
 owly train" 
 in, 
 aspects rise^ 
 
 ious lay 
 display, 
 
 ly flow, 
 s glow : 
 I Itand^ 
 id, 
 
 3nes tJiat lie 
 r 
 
 t the view, 
 mdless too \ 
 vide, , 
 *s pride. 
 
 Majestic palaces iu ponjp display 
 The wealth and splendour of the regal sway ; 
 While the low hamlet and the shepherd's cot. 
 In peace and fi^edom mark the peasant's lot. 
 Thero nature's vernal bloom adorixs the field, 
 And Autumn's fruits their rich luxuriance yield. 
 There mi^viy in busy crowds, with men combine, 
 That arts may flourish, and fair scienco shine j 
 And thence, to distant climes their labours send, 
 As o'er the world their widening views extend. 
 Compar'd with scenes like these, bow lone aud drear 
 Did once Acadia's woods and wilds appear ; 
 Where wandering savages, and beasts of prey, 
 Displayed, by turns, the fury of their sway. 
 What noble courage must their hearts have fired, 
 How great the ardour which their souls inspired, 
 Who leaving far behind their native plain, , 
 Have sought a home beyond the Western main \ 
 And braved the perils of the stormy sea^, 
 In search of wealth, of freedom, m^ 9f m^ I 
 
 i 
 
» 
 
 ' 'i 
 
 
 i 
 
 16 
 
 THE RISING VILLAGE. 
 
 Oh ! none can tell but they who sadly share 
 The bosom's anguish, and its wild despair. 
 What dire distress awaits the hardy bands. 
 That venture first on bleak and desert lands. 
 How great the pain, the danger, and the toil. 
 Which mark the first rude culture of the soil. 
 When, looking round, the lonely settler sees 
 His home amid a wilderness of trees : 
 How sinks his heart in those deep solitudes, 
 Where not a voice upon his ear intrudes ; 
 Where solemn silence all the waste pervades, 
 Heightening the horror of its gloomy shades ; 
 Save where the sturdy woodman's strokes resound, 
 That strew the fallen forest on the ground. 
 See ! from their heights the lofty pines descend. 
 And crackling, down their pond'rous lengths extend. 
 Soon fi'om their boughs the curling flames arise, 
 Mount into air, and redden all the skies ; 
 And where the forest once its foliage spread, 
 The golden corn triumphant waves its head. (1) 
 
THS ftiaiNG VlhL^(^^. 
 
 n 
 
 fihare 
 3air, 
 
 nds, 
 
 lands, 
 le toilj 
 e soil, 
 r sees 
 
 des, 
 
 es ; 
 
 vades, 
 shades 3 
 5S resound, 
 *o(md. 
 descend, ■ 
 ths extend, 
 es arise, 
 
 • 
 
 read, 
 ead. (1) ' 
 
 How blest, did nature's ruggednees appear 
 
 The only source of trouble or of fear ; 
 
 How happy, did no hardship meet his view, 
 
 No other care his anaious steps pursue 5 
 
 But, while bis labour gains a shert repose, 
 
 And hope presents a solace for his woe^i 
 
 New ills ariose, new feai^s his peace aftnpy. 
 
 And other dangers all his hopes destroy. 
 
 Behold the savage tribes in wildest stmija, 
 
 Approach with death and terror in their train ; 
 
 No longer silence o'er the forest i*eigns, , 
 
 No longer stillness now her power retains ; 
 
 But hideous yells announce the murderous band, 
 
 Whose bloody footsteps desolate the land ; , . 
 
 He hears them oft in sternest mood maiatain> 
 
 Their right to rule the mountain and the plain ; . 
 
 He hears them doom the white man^s instant death, 
 
 Shrinks from the sentence, while he gasps for breath, 
 
 Then, rousing with one effort all his might, 
 
 Darts from his hut, and saves himself by flight. 
 
 b2 
 
:| 
 
 I ; 
 
 18 
 
 THE RISING VILLAGE. 
 
 Yet, what a refuge! Here a host of foes. 
 On every side, his trembling steps oppose ; 
 Here savage beasts around his cottage howl. 
 As through the gloomy wood they nightly prowl, 
 Till morning comes, and then is heard no more 
 The shouts of man, or beast's appalling roar ; 
 The wandering Indian turns another way, 
 And brutes avoid the first approach of day. 
 
 Yet,tho' these threat 'ning dangers round him roll, 
 Perplex his thoughts, and agitate his soul, 
 By patient firmness and industrious toil. 
 He still retains possession of the soil ; 
 Around his dwelling scattered huts extend, 
 Whilst every hut affords another friend. 
 And now, behold ! his bold aggressors fly. 
 To seek their prey beneath some other sky ; 
 Resign the haunts they can maintain no more. 
 And safety in far distant wilds explore. 
 His perils vanished, and his fears o'ercome, 
 Sweet hope portrays a happy peaceful home. 
 
 i ! 
 
THE RISING VILLAGE. 
 
 19 
 
 5S, 
 
 lose ; 
 
 howl, 
 itly prowl, 
 no more 
 
 roar ; 
 
 ay, 
 day. 
 
 lid him roll, 
 iul, 
 
 Id, 
 
 ky; 
 
 more, 
 
 >me, 
 iome. 
 
 On every side fair prospects charm his eyes. 
 
 And futm'e joys in every thought arise. 
 
 His humble cot, built from the neighbouring trees, 
 
 Affords protection from each chilling breeze ; 
 
 His rising crops, with rich luxuriance crowned, 
 
 In waving softness shed their freshness round ; 
 
 By nature nourished, by her bounty blest, 
 
 He looks to Heaven, and lulls his cares to rest. 
 
 The arts of culture now extend their sway, 
 And many a charm of rural life display. 
 Where once the pine upreared its lofty head. 
 The settlers' humble cottages are spread ; 
 Where the broad firs once sheltered from the storm, 
 By slow degrees a neighbourhood they form ; 
 And, as it bounds, each circling year, increase 
 In social life, prosperity, and peace. 
 New prospects rise, new objects too appear, 
 To add more comfort to its lowly sphere. 
 Where some rude sign or post the spot betray;?. 
 The tavern first its useful front displays. 
 
30 
 
 THS RISING VILLAGE. 
 
 i; 
 
 rl 
 
 ?i 
 
 Here, oft the weary traveller at the close 
 
 Of 
 
 finds 
 
 and safe 
 
 18 
 
 evcnnig, nnas a snug ana sate repose. 
 The passing stranger here, a welcome guest, 
 From all his toil enjoys a peaceful rest ; 
 Unless the host, solicitous to please. 
 With care officious mar his hope of ease. 
 With flippant questions to no end confined. 
 Exhaust his patience, and perplex his mind. 
 
 Yet, let no one condemn with thoughtless haste, 
 The hardy settler of the dreary waste, 
 Who, far removed from every busy throng, 
 And social pleasures that to life belong. 
 Whene'er a stranger comes within his reach. 
 Will sigh to learn whatever he can teach. 
 To this, must be ascribed in great degree, 
 That ceaseless, idle curiosity, , 
 
 Which over aU the Western world prevails, 
 And every breast, or more or less, assails 5 
 Till, by indulgence, so o'erpowering grown, 
 It seeks to kixow 51U busineiss but its own. 
 
 Her( 
 
 And 
 Aroi 
 "T( 
 Wh( 
 Swe 
 Whi 
 
 4 -^^^ 
 
 I 
 
 i 
 
THE RISING VILLAGE. 
 
 31 
 
 uest, 
 
 5d, 
 
 nd. 
 
 isis baste, 
 
 •ong, 
 
 lach, 
 
 I. . ■ ; 
 t 
 
 f 
 
 i 
 
 Here, oft when winter's dreary terrors reign, 
 And cold, and snow, and storm, pervade the plain, 
 Around the birch-wood blaze the settlers draw, 
 " To tell of all they felt, and all they saw." 
 When, thus in peace are met a happy few, • 
 Sweet are the social pleasures that ensue. 
 What lively joy each honest bosom feels, 
 As o'er the past events his memory steals. 
 And to the listeners paints the dire distress. 
 That marked his progress in the wilderness ; 
 The danger, trouble, hardship, toil, and strife. 
 Which chased each effort of his struggling life. 
 
 In some lone spot of consecrated ground. 
 Whose silence spreads a holy gloom around, 
 The village church in unadorned array, / 
 Now lifts its turret to the opening day. 
 How sweet to see the villagers repair - 
 In groups to pay their adoration there ; 
 To view, in homespun dress, each sacred morn, 
 The old and young its hallowed seats adorn, 
 
22 
 
 THB III8IN0 VILLAGE. 
 
 Wliilo, grateful lor each blessing God ha9 given, 
 Jji pious strains, they waft their thanks to Heaven. 
 Oh, heaven^born faith! sure solace of our woes, 
 How lost is he who ne'er thy influence knows, 
 How cold the heart thy charity ne'er fires, 
 How dead the soul thy spirit ne'er inspii'es I 
 When troubles vex and agitate the mind, 
 By gracious Heaven for wisest ends designed. 
 When dangers threaten, or when fears invade, 
 Man ilies to thee for comfort and for aid ; 
 The soul, impelled by thy all-powerful laws, 
 Seeks safety, only, in a Great First Cause ! 
 If, then, amid the busy scene of life, 
 Its joy and pleasure, care, distrust, and strife ; 
 Man, to his God for help and succour fly, ; 
 And on his mighty power to save, rely ; 
 If, then, his thoughts can force him to confess 
 His errors, wants, and utter helplessness ; 
 How strong must be those feelings which impart 
 A sense of all his weakness to the heart, 
 
 i 
 
TRfi RISIKO VILLA6C. 
 
 -i3 
 
 a9 giveiii 
 Heaveu. 
 our woes, 
 knowd, 
 
 res! 
 
 igned, 
 invade, 
 
 I; 
 
 laws, 
 use! 
 
 strife J 
 
 ODfessj 
 ?h impart 
 
 Whero not a fViend in tolitude is nigh, 
 Hi3 home the wild, hid oanopy the tky ; 
 And, fUr removed from every human arm, 
 His God alone can shelter him from harm. 
 
 While now the Rising Village cloims a name, 
 Its limits 0tiU increase, and still its fame. 
 The wandering Fedlar, who undaunted traced 
 H/s lonely footsteps o^er the silent waste; 
 Who traversed once the cold and snow^lad plain, 
 Reckless of danger, trouble, or of pain, 
 To find a market for his little wares, - . 
 The source of all his hopes, and all his cares, 
 Established here, his settled home maintains. 
 And soon a ^erchant^s higher title gains. 
 Around his storcj on spacious shelves arrayed, 
 Behold his great and various stock in trade. • 
 Here, nails and blankets, side by side, are seen, 
 There, horses* collars, and a large tureen ; 
 Buttons and tumblers, fish-hooks, spoons and knives, 
 Shawls for young damsels, flannel for old wives ; 
 
24 
 
 THE RISING VILLAGE. 
 
 1! I 
 
 :.: !' 
 
 Woolcards and stockings, hats for men and boys, 
 Mill-saws and fenders, silks, and children's toys , 
 All useful things, and joined with many more. 
 Compose the well-assorted country store. (2) 
 
 The half-bred Doctor next then settles down, 
 And hopes the village soon will prove a town* 
 No rival here disputes his doubtful skill, 
 He cures, by chance, or ends each human ill ; 
 By turns he physics, or his patient bleeds, ; 
 Uncertain in what case each best succeeds. 
 And if, from friends untimely snatched away, 
 Some beauty fall a victim to decay; 
 If some fine youth, his parents' fond delight, 
 Be early hurried to the shades of night, . ' ' 
 Death bears the blame, 'tis his envenomed dart 
 That strikes the suffering mortal to the heart. 
 
 Beneath the shelter of a log-built shed 
 The country school^house next erects its head. 
 No " man severe," with learning's bright display. 
 Here leads the opening blossoms into day ; 
 
THE RISING VILLAGE^ 
 
 39 
 
 nd boys, 
 
 5n's toys J 
 
 more, 
 (2) 
 dowiij 
 
 :owii< ; ; : 
 
 Hill; 
 
 s, ; 
 
 ds. 
 
 Lway, 
 
 id dart 
 leart. 
 
 - f 
 
 head, 
 t displayj 
 
 r • 
 
 9 
 
 No master here, in every art refined, 
 
 Through fields of science guides the aspiring mind ; 
 
 But some poor wanderer of the human race, 
 
 Unequal to the task, supplies his place, 
 
 Whose greatest source of knowledge or of skill 
 
 Consists in reading, and in writing ill ; - 
 
 Whose efforts can no higher merit claim. 
 
 Than spreading Dilworth's great scholastic fame. 
 
 No modest youths surround his awful chair, 
 
 His frowns to deprecate, or smiles to share. 
 
 But all the terrors of his lawful sway 
 
 The proud despise, the fearless disobey ; 
 
 The rugged urchins spurn at all control, 
 
 Which cramps the movements of the free-born soul, 
 
 Tillj in their own coiiceit so wise they've grown, 
 
 They think their knowledge far exceeds his own. 
 
 As thus the village each successive year 
 
 Presents new prospects, and extends its sphere, 
 
 While all around its smiling charms expand. 
 
 And rural beauties decorate the land. • 
 
 C 
 
f ! 
 
 It 
 
 I 
 
 PH 
 
 
 » it' 
 
 I ^ i| u 
 
 II ! 
 
 2fe 
 
 THE RlSltrd VitLAGlJ. 
 
 The humble tenants, who were taught to know^ 
 By years of suffering, all the weight of woe 5 
 Who ffelt each hardship nature could ehduir^, 
 Such pains as time alone could ease or cure^ 
 Relieved from want, in sportive pleasures find 
 A balm to soften and relax the mind ; - 
 And noWj foi'getful of their former care, 
 Enjoy each sport, and every pastime share. 
 Beneath some spreading tree's expanded shade 
 Here many a manly youth and gentle maid. 
 With festive dances or with sprightly song 
 The summer'^3 evening hours in joy prolong, 
 And as the young their simple sports renew^ 
 The aged witness, and approve them too. 
 And when the Summer*^ bloomy charms are fled, 
 When Autumn^s fkllen leaves around are spread, 
 When Winter rules the sad inverted year, 
 And ice and snow alternately appCaf j 
 Sports not less welcome lightly they essay, 
 To chase the long and tedious hours away. 
 
TH£ RiSINa VILL^&Jy. 
 
 27 
 
 Here, ranged in joyous groups around the fire, 
 Gauibols and freaks each honest heart inspire ; 
 And if some venturous youth obtain a kissj 
 The gajne*s reward, and summit of its bliss, 
 Applauding shouts the victor's prize proclaim, 
 And every tongue augments his well-earned fiiUie ; 
 While all the modest fair one's blushes tell ., \ 
 Success had crowned his foxulest hopes too well. 
 Dear humble spprts, Oh I long may you impart 
 A guileless pleasure to the youthful heart, 
 Still may your joys from ye^ to year increase, 
 And fill each breast with happiues§ and pea^pe. 
 
 Yet, tho' these simple pleasures crown the year, 
 Relieve its cares, and evei'y bospm cheei*, 
 As life's gay scenes in quick suceesjsion rise, 
 To lure the heart and captivate the eyes ; - 
 Soon vice steals on, in thoughtless pleasure's train , 
 And spreads her miseries o'er the village plain. 
 Her baneful arts some happy home invade, . ... 
 f^ome bashful lover, or some tender maid ; 
 
28 
 
 THE RISING VILLAGE. 
 
 ^;| ! 
 
 Until, at length, repressed by no control, .; . . 
 They sink, debase, and overwhelm the soul. ' 
 How many aching breasts now live to know > - 
 The shame, the anguish, misery and woe. 
 That heedless passions, by no laws confined. 
 Entail forever on the human mind. ..-.;». 
 
 Oh, Virtue ! that thy powerful charms could bind 
 Each rising impulse of the erring mind. •■' 
 
 That every heart might own thy sovereign sway, 
 And every bosom fear to disobey ; .. '- 
 
 No father's heart would then in anguish trace 
 The sad remembrance of a son's disgrace ; 
 No mother's tears for some dear child undone 
 Would then in streams of poignant sorrow run. 
 Nor could my verse the hapless story tell 
 Of one poor maid who loved — and loved too well. 
 Among the youths that graced their native plain, 
 Albert was foremost of the village train ; 
 The hand of nature had profusely shed 
 Her choicest blessings on his youthful head ; 
 
THE IIISING VILLAGE. 
 
 n 
 
 HiaJ heart seemed generous, noWo, kind, und fret, 
 Just buretiug into manhood's energy. 
 Flora was fair, and blooming as that flower 
 Whicn spreads its l>losS(Om to the April shower; (3) 
 Her gentle mamiers and unstudied grace 
 Still added lustre to lier beaming face, 
 While every look, by jnirity i*efined, " * 
 
 Dis]>layed the lovelier beauties of her miud. . ' 
 
 Sweet was the hour, and peaceful was the scene 
 When Albert first met Flora on the green ; 
 Her modeat looks, in youthful bloom displayed, 
 Then touched his h^art, and tliere a conquest made 
 Nor long he sighed, by love and rapture fii'ed, 
 He soon declared the passion she inspired. 
 In silence, blushing sweetly, Flora Iieard " 
 His vows of love and constancy preferred ; ; 
 And, as his soft and tender suit he pressed, 
 The maid, At length, a mutual flame confessed. 
 
 Love now had shed, with visions light as> airj 
 His golden prospect? on this liappy pair ; 
 
so 
 
 THE RISING VILLAGE. 
 
 II 
 
 Those moments soon rolled rapidly away, 
 Those hours of joy and bliss that gently play 
 Around young hearts, ere yet they learn to know 
 Life's care or trouble, or to feel its woe. ' 
 
 The day was fixed, the bridal dress was made. 
 And time alone their happiness delayed, 
 The anxious moment that, in joy begun, 
 Would join their fond and faithful hearts in one. 
 'Twas now at evening's hour, about the time 
 When in Acadia's cold and northern clime 
 The setting sun, with pale and cheerless glow, 
 Extends his beams o'er trackless fields of snow, 
 That Flora felt her throbbing heart oppressed 
 By thoughts, till then, a stranger to her breast. 
 Albert had promised that his bosom's pride 
 That very morning should become his '^ride ; 
 Yet morn had come and passed ; and not one vow 
 Of his had e'er been broken until now. 
 But, hark ! a hurried step advances near, 
 ^Tis Albert's breaks upon her listening ear : 
 
THE RISING VILLAGE. 
 
 31 
 
 Albert's, ah, no ! a ruder tootstep bore, 
 
 With eager haste, a letter to the door ; -.-' i ' 
 
 Flora received it, and could scarce conceal 
 
 Her rapture, as she kissed her lover's seal. 
 
 Yet, anxious tears were gathered in her eye, 
 
 As on the note it rested wistfully ; 
 
 Her trembling hands unclosed the folded page. 
 
 That soon she hoped would eveiy fear assuage, . 
 
 And while intently o'er the Imes she ran, 
 
 In broken half breathed tones she thus began: 
 
 " Dear Flora, I have left my native plain, 
 And fate forbids that we shall meet again : 
 'Twere vain to tell, nor can I now impart 
 The sudden motive to this change of heart. 
 The vows so oft repeated to thine ear • . 
 
 As tales of cruel falsehood must appear. ■ 
 Forgive the hand that deals this treacherous blow, 
 Forget the heart that can afflict this woe ; 
 Farewell! and think no more of Albert's name, 
 His weakness pity, now involved in shame." 
 
Tti^ KIS|^'G VILLAGE. 
 
 Ah! who can paint her features as, amazed, 
 In breathless agony, she stood and gazed! 
 Oh, Albert, cruel Albert! she exclaimed, 
 Albert was all her faltering accents named. 
 A deadly feeling seized upon her frame, 
 Her pulse throbbed quick, her colour went and came ; 
 A darting pain shot through her frenzied head, 
 And from that fatal hour her reason fled ! 
 
 The sun had set ; his lingeiing beanis of light 
 From western hills had vanished into night. 
 The northern blast along the valley rolled. 
 Keen was that blast, and piercing was the cold, 
 When, urged by frenzy, and by love inspired. 
 For what but madness could her breast have fired ! 
 Flora, with one slight mantle round her waved. 
 Forsook her home, and all the tempest braved. 
 Jier lover's falsehood wrung her gentle breast, 
 His broken vows her tortured mind j^ossessed ; 
 Heedless of danger, on sho bent licr way 
 Thro'jgh drifts of snow, where Allan's dwelling lay. 
 
THE RISING VILLAGE. 
 
 S5 
 
 ed, 
 
 idcainc; 
 ead, 
 
 ' light 
 t. 
 
 ! cold, 
 •ed, 
 
 e fired ? 
 aved, .' 
 iveti. 
 •east, 
 ed ; 
 
 iiiglav. 
 
 With frantic haste her tottering steps pursued 
 Amid the long night's darkness unsubdued ; - • 
 Until, benumbed, her fair and fragile form 
 Yielded beneath the fury of the storm ; . ' . 
 Exhausted nature could no further go, • • ** - ' •- 
 And, senseless, down she sank amid the snow. • 
 Now as the morn had streaked the eastern sky 
 With dawning light, a passing stranger's eye, 
 By chance directed, glanced upon the spot 
 Where lay the lovely sufferer : To his cot 
 The peasant bore her, and with anxious care 
 Tried every art, till hope became despair. 
 With kind solicitude his tender wife -- •. • 
 
 Long vainly strove to call her back to life ; 
 At length her gentle bosom throbs again. 
 Her torpid limbs their wonted power obtain j 
 The loitering current now begins to flow. 
 And hapless Flora wakes once more to woe ; 
 But all their friendly efforts could not find 
 A balm to heal the anguish of her mind, . 
 
84 
 
 THIS AISINa VII^LAtiS. 
 
 i ? 
 
 Come hither, wretch, and see what thou hast done, 
 Behold the heart thou hast so falsely won, 
 Behold it, wounded, broken, crushed and riven. 
 By thy unmanly arts to ruin drive?i j 
 Hear Flora calling on thy much loved name, 
 Which, e'en in madness, she forbears to blame. 
 Not all thy sighs and tears can now restore 
 One hour of ][)leasure tha t she knew before ; 
 Not all thy prayers can now remove the pain, 
 That floats and revels o'er her maddened brain. 
 Oh, shame of manhood ! that could thus betray 
 A maiden's hopes, and lead her heart away ; 
 Oh, shame of manhood! that could blast her joy. 
 And one so fair, so lovely, could destroy. 
 
 Yet, think not oft such tales of real woe 
 Degrade the land, and round the village flow. 
 Here virtue's charms appear in bright array. 
 And all their pleasing influence display ; 
 Here modest youths, impressed in beauty's train, 
 , Or captive led by love's endearing chain, 
 
THE RlSIKGi VILfiA6£. 
 
 35 
 
 Imst done, 
 h 
 riven, 
 
 ame, 
 blame. 
 )re 
 •re ; 
 pain, 
 I brain. 
 )etray 
 
 ly ; 
 
 er joy, 
 
 e 
 
 low. 
 
 ray, 
 
 s train, 
 
 And fairest girls whom vows have ne'er betrayed, 
 Vows that are broken oft as soon as ma<1e, 
 Unite their hopes, and join their lives in one, 
 In bliss pursue them, as at first begun. 
 Then, as life's current onward gently flows, 
 With scarce one fault to ruffle its repose, 
 With minds prepared, they sink in peace to rest. 
 To meet on high the spirits of the blest. 
 
 While time thus rolls his rapid years away, 
 The Village rises gently into day. 
 How sweet it is, at first approach of morn. 
 Before the silvery dew has left the lawn, 
 When warring winds are sleeping yet on high, 
 Or breathe as softly as the bosom's sigh. 
 To gain some easy hill's ascending height, 
 Where all the landscape brightens with delight. 
 And boundless prospects stretched on every side. 
 Proclaim the counti-y's industry and pride. 
 Here the broad marsh extends its open plain, 
 Until its limits touch the distant main ; 
 
36 
 
 THE RISING VILLAGE. 
 
 ;^i 
 
 f 'if I 
 
 There verdant meads along'thc uplands spring, 
 And grateful odours to the breezes fling ; 
 Here crops of grain in rich hixuriance rise. 
 And wave their golden riches to the skies ; 
 There smiling orchards interrupt the scene, 
 Or gardens bounded by some fence of green ; 
 The farmer's cottage, bosomed 'mong the trees. 
 Whose spreading branches shelter from the - 
 
 breeze ; 
 The winding stream that turns the busy mill, 
 Whose clacking echos o'er the distant hill ; 
 The neat white church, beside whose walls are 
 
 spread • . • 
 
 The grass-clod hillocks of the sacred dead, 
 Where rude cut stones or painted tablets tell, 
 In laboured verse, how youth and beauty fell 5 
 How worth and hope were hurried to the grave. 
 And torn from those who had no power to save. 
 
 Or, when the Summer's dry and sultry sun 
 Adown the West his fiery course has run ; 
 
Tin: uisiNfi viLi.Acin. 
 
 87 
 
 VVlion o^er tlin vale his parting rays of liglit 
 
 Just, linger, ere they vanish into nigiit, 
 
 How sweet to wander rouml the wood-bound lake, 
 
 Whose glassy stillness scarce the zephyrs wake; 
 
 How sweet to hear the murmuring of the rillj 
 
 As down it gurgles from the distant hill ; 
 
 The note of Whip-poor- Will how sweet to hear, (4) 
 
 When sadly slow it breaks upon the ear, 
 
 And tells each night, to all the silent vale, 
 
 The hopeless sorrows of its mournful tale. 
 
 Dear lovely s])ot! Oh may such charms as these, 
 
 Sweet tranquil charms, that cannot fail to please, 
 
 Forever reign around thee, and impart 
 
 Joy, peace, and comfort to each native heart. 
 
 Happy Acadia! though around thy shore (5) 
 
 Is heai'd the stormy wind's terrific roar; 
 
 Though round thee Winter binds his icy chain. 
 
 And his rude tempests sweep along thy plain, 
 
 Still Summer comes, and decorates thy land 
 
 With fruits and flo>vers from her luxuriant hand , 
 
 D 
 
 t\ 
 
I., 
 
 II f 
 
 1 
 
 I 
 
 ■i 
 
 r\ 
 
 V ! 
 
 "'. ! 
 
 . ; 1 
 
 ,! 
 I 
 
 3S 
 
 THE RISING VILLAGE. 
 
 Still Autumn's gifts repay the labourer's toil 
 AVith richest products from thy fertile soil ; 
 With bounteous store his varic^ wants supply. 
 And scarce the plants of other suns deny. 
 How pleasing, and how glowing with delight 
 Are now thy budding hopes ! How sweetly bright 
 They rise to view! How full of joy appear 
 The expectations of each future year ! 
 Not fifty Summers yet have blessed thy clime, 
 How short a period in the page of time ! 
 Since savage tribes, with terror in their train, 
 Rushed o'er thy fields, and ravaged all thy plain. 
 But some few years have rolled in haste away 
 Since, through thy vales, the fearless beast of prey, 
 With dismal yell and loud appalling cry, 
 Proclaimed his midnight reign of terror nigh. 
 And now how changed the scene i the first, afar, 
 Have fled to wilds beneath the northern star ; 
 The last has learned to shun man's dreaded eye, 
 And, in his turn, to distant regions fly. 
 
THE RISING VILLAGE. 
 
 39 
 
 ii 
 
 p'y: 
 
 ight 
 ' bright 
 
 ir 
 
 lime, 
 
 ain, 
 
 ly plain, 
 ivay 
 of prey, 
 
 gh. 
 
 afar. 
 
 ar 5 
 
 d eye, 
 
 While the poor peasant, whose laborious care 
 Scarce from the soil could Avring his scanty fare ; 
 Now in the peaceful arts of culture skilled, 
 Sees his wide barn with ample ti'easures filled ; 
 Now finds his dwelling, as the year goes round. 
 Beyond his hopes, with joy and plenty crowned. 
 
 Nor culture's arts, a nation's noblest friend, 
 Alone o'er Scotia's fields their power extend \ 
 From all her shores, with every gentle gale, 
 Commerce expands her free and swelling sail ; 
 And all the land, luxuriant, rich, and gay. 
 Exulting owns the splendour of their sway. 
 These are thy blessings, Scotia, and for these. 
 For wealth, for freedom, happiness, and ease. 
 Thy grateful thanks to Britain's care are due. 
 Her power protects, her smiles past hopes renew, 
 Her valour guards thee, and her councils guide, 
 Then, may thy parent ever be thy pride ! 
 
 Happy Britannia! though thy history's page 
 1)1 darkest ii^norancc shroud,^ thine infant age. 
 
 l.ji 
 

 ■ 
 
 i 
 1 
 
 il! 
 
 s , 
 
 40 
 
 THE RISING VILLAGE. 
 
 Though long thy childhood's years in error strayed. 
 And long in superstition's bands delayed ; 
 Matur'd and strong, thou shin'st in manhood's prime, 
 The first and brightest star of Europe's clime. 
 The nurse of science, and the seat of arts, 
 The home of fairest forms and gentlest hearts j 
 The land of heroes, generous, free, and brave. 
 The noblest conquerors of the field and wave ; 
 Thy flag, on every sea and shore unfurled, 
 Has spread thy glory, and thy thunder hurled. 
 When, o'er the earth, a tyrant would have thrown 
 His iron chain, and called the world his own, 
 Thine arm preserved it, in its darkest hour, 
 Destroyed his hopes, and crushed his dreaded power, 
 To sinldng nations life and freedom gave, 
 'Twas thine to conquer, as 'twas thine to save. 
 
 Then blest Acadia ! ever may thy name. 
 Like hers, be graven on the rolls of fame ; 
 May all thy sons, like uers, be brave and free, 
 Posaessors of her laws and liberty ; 
 
strayed, 
 
 s prime J 
 inie. 
 
 jarts ; 
 >rave, 
 
 ive ; 
 
 irled. 
 
 thrown 
 
 »wn. 
 
 THE UISINCJ VILLAGE. 
 
 41 
 
 
 Heirs of her splendour, science, power, and skill, 
 And through succeeding years her children still. 
 And as the sun, with gentle dawning ray, 
 From night's dull bosom wakes, and leads the davj 
 His course majestic keeps, till in the height 
 He glows one blaze of pure exhaustless light ; 
 So may thy years increase, thy glories rise, 
 To be the wonder of the Western skies ; 
 And ]»liss an 1 peace encircle all thy shore. 
 Till empires rise and sink, on earth, no more. 
 
 r^ 
 
 power, 
 
 save. 
 
 e; 
 
 free. 
 
 ij2 
 

 ]VOTE$». 
 
l¥OTE8. 
 
 Note 1, Page 16. 
 
 The golden corn triumphant waves Us head. 
 
 The process of clearing land, though simple, is attended with 
 a great deal of labour. The trees are all felled, bo as to lie in 
 the same direction; and after the fire has passed over thenr> in 
 that state, whatever may be left is collected into heaps, and re- 
 duced to ashes. The grain is then sown between the stumps of 
 the trees, which remain., until the lapse of time, from ten to tif. 
 teen years, reduces them to decay. 
 
 Note 2d, Page 24. 
 
 Compose the well-assorted country Store. 
 
 Every bliop in America, whether in city or village, in which 
 the most trifling ai tides nre sold, is dignified with the title 
 of a store. 
 
1 1 
 
 46 NOTES. 
 
 Note 3d, Page 29. 
 
 Which spreads it» blossom to the April shower; 
 
 The May-flower (Epigsea rcpens) is indigenous to the wilds 
 of Acadia, and is in bloom from llie middle of April to the end 
 of May. Its leaves are while, faintly tinged with red, and it 
 possesses a delightful fragrance. 
 
 
 Note 4, Page 87* 
 
 The note of Whip poor-Will how sweet to hear. 
 
 The Whip-poor-Will (Caprimulgus vociferus) is a native 
 of America. On n summer's evening the wild and mournful ca- 
 dence of its note is heard at a great distance ; and the traveller 
 listens with delight to the repeated tale of its sorrows. 
 
 Note 5, Page 37. 
 
 Happy Acadia I though around thy shore. 
 
 The Provinces of Nova Scotia and New Brunswick now 
 comprehend that part of British North America, which was 
 formerly denominated Acadia, or L'Acadie, by the French, and 
 Nova Scotia by the English. 
 
THE KISS; 
 
 is a native 
 iiournful ca- 
 Llie traveller 
 
 OR. 
 
 THE FREAKS OF CHRISTMAS DAY, 
 
 !i 
 
 CANTO FIRST. 
 
 !l> 
 
 i! 
 
T 
 
 !SiN( 
 
 Nor 
 
 Sine 
 
 Nor 
 
 An 
 
 And 
 
 Tho 
 
 And 
 
KISS; 
 
 OR 
 
 THE FREAKS OF CHRISTMAS DAV. 
 
 CANTO FIRST. 
 
 Since war can raise no more the Poet's song, 
 
 Nor tales of battle to his verse belong ; 
 
 Since glory's cause no longer leads the fight, 
 
 Nor heroes' deeds heroic strains excite ; 
 
 An humbler theme now animates the lay, 
 
 And numbers wake ' The Freaks of Christmas Day,^ 
 
 Those freaks which can or youth or age inspire, 
 
 And bid alike each care and gi'ief retire. 
 
 E 
 
50 
 
 THE KISS ; OR, 
 
 
 i 
 
 III that fumed town where chilling blasts and snow 
 Create, in wintry days, its greatest woe, 
 And drizzling fogs that creep along the main, 
 In June's declining day its only pain ; 
 A house, erected by a skilful hand. 
 Denotes the pride and riches of the lan<l. 
 This noble mansion, built for men of state, 
 And destined only for the rich and great, 
 In turn, was by a gallant knight possessed, 
 Who fought and bled to set the world at rest. 
 
 In joyous seasons, such as Christmas time, 
 Gambols and freaks are known in every clime. 
 To please the knight, a gay selected few 
 Here met together for an hour or two. 
 On Christmas night, each anxious to impart 
 Those simple pleasures that engage the heart. 
 Two or three ladies here those charms displayed, 
 That ever are by chastest minds portrayed: 
 Three or four Colonels, men of high degree, 
 Now mixed in social bonds of unity ; 
 
THE FIIEAKS OF CIIUISTMAS DAY. 
 
 51 
 
 Captains and doctors kindly figured here, 
 And sons of nobles of the highest sphere. 
 
 In pleasing converse fust the moments flew, 
 While different stories different joys renew ; 
 Till tired of talking, Richmond's heir proposed, 
 By Christmas gambols that the year be closed. 
 Agreed, agreed, cry all with loud acclaim, 
 And Blind-man's-buff shall be the sportive game. 
 Yet now distracting thoughts perplexed each mind, 
 Whose eyes should first to darkness be resigned. 
 Nor long this doubt to mar the sport remained, 
 For soon a willing victim was obtained. 
 " Behold in me !" the great Mercator cries. 
 While shouts of joy and laughter shook the skies, 
 '' In me, behold a candidate for fame. 
 Nor doubt my knowledge of this youthful game. 
 In childhood's season many a happy day 
 I've passed in this diverting noisy play. 
 My power shall then your wishes realize, 
 My arms encircle, and obtain the prize." 
 
 !t 
 
1 
 
 i 
 
 
 i 
 
 m 
 
 THE KISS j OK, 
 
 And now, l)ehold5 a gay bandanna bound 
 Mercator*s eyes, and darkness spread around 
 B3' Richmond's heir in solemn silence placed. 
 The circle's centre soon his presence graced ; 
 There stood attentive to those known commands 
 Which Blind-Man's-bufFin every age demands. 
 " Come, pick up pins !" his noble leader cries, 
 " There are none here," he readily replies ; 
 " Then pick up needles!" " them I cannot find, 
 Can men eee pins and needles v^hen they're blind?" 
 " How many horses does your father own ?" 
 " Two white, two black, and one a handsome 
 
 roan ;" 
 " Then black, or brown, red, sorrel, white, or grey. 
 Turn round three times, and catch whom e'er you 
 may." 
 
 As thus Mcrcator turned three times his head, 
 Ladies and lords in each direction fled. 
 With arms extended now he groped his way, 
 Like one whose optics ne'er beheld the day ; 
 
THE FREAKS OF CHRISTMAS DAY. 53 
 
 From side to side his wandering steps retraced, 
 And gently tables, chairs, or doors embraced ; 
 While titter, laugh, and joke on every side. 
 Increased the sport which his mistakes supplied. 
 Now fate determined and Mercator's will, 
 Whose bad success had argued Avant of skill, 
 No longer should his prowess be delayed. 
 No more his hopes by doors or chairs betrayed. 
 Some guardian angel whispered in his ear. 
 Turn to the right, be quick, the sofa's near, 
 He turned, and lo! 'mid laughter, roar, and fun, 
 He seized the daughter of the brave O'Dunn ; 
 And while in struggling attitudes he pressed 
 Her graceful form with rapture to his breast, 
 Imprinted on her cheek his lips obtained . 
 The great reward his deeds of darkness gained. 
 *' Oh! Albyn, Albyn," as he snatched the kiss. 
 Exclaimed the fair one, " can you suffer this ? 
 My lord, my life," and tears suffused her pyes, 
 
 '' By yon bright Heaven, no," her husband rrics, 
 
 e2 
 
54 
 
 THG KISS ; OF, 
 
 1 
 
 " The man who dares insult a virtuous wife, 
 Must meet that insult with his forfeit life. 
 Come, come, my love, no longer here remain, 
 Assauge your sorrow and your grief restrain." 
 
 How shall the muse describe or how impart, 
 The sudden change that overwhelmed each heai't. 
 In speechless silence here Mercator gazed. 
 There colonels, lords, and captains stood amazed ! 
 For dire dismay each anxious heart oppressed. 
 And dreadful horrors every mind possessed. 
 The knight, at length, the fearful silence broke, 
 While all attentive listened as he spoke : 
 ** Stay, Albyn, stay, allow me to explain. 
 And thus remove the cause of all your pain; 
 In every clime where Christmas freaks are played, 
 And childish games the sports of men are made ; 
 When Blinc^-Man's-BufF each joyous heart inspire^!, 
 The same success the same reward acquires. 
 I'm grieved to think that any thing to nigiit 
 Could cause the least repression of delight, 
 
 i 
 
ain, 
 
 111." 
 
 Tipart, 
 
 sh heart, 
 
 d, 
 
 amazed ! 
 
 ssed, 
 
 d. 
 
 broke, 
 
 * played, 
 nade ; 
 inspires, 
 
 It 
 
 THE FREAKS OF CHRISTMAS DAY. 
 
 55 
 
 My friend Mercator, I must truly say, 
 
 Has been the cause of this unhappy fray, 
 
 Yet have I known him long, and dare assert 
 
 His worst of thoughts would never harm or hurt. 
 
 Possessed of honour and of soundest sense. 
 
 His manly soul would scorn to give offence ; 
 
 His heart ne'er felt, I can with truth declare, 
 
 A wish to injure or insult the fair. 
 
 Come then, forgive him, and let friendship cast 
 
 Oblivion's sacred mantle o'er the past." 
 
 He ceased, — the modest fair one then p -'dressed 
 The astonished crowd, and thus her thoughts ex- 
 pressed : 
 " Dear to my heart is an unblemished name, 
 And dearer still a virtuous woman's fame ; 
 My heart in every case a wish could feci, 
 Each fault to pardon, and each wrong conceal, 
 Bui, since I met iiflront in other's view, 
 Be that afliont appeased in public loo ; 
 
I 
 
 { 
 
 ■i 
 
 56 
 
 THE KISS. 
 
 To-morrow's sun shall see assembled here, 
 A court of ladies, who my case shall hear, 
 Their justice then, and wisdom shall decide, 
 What's due to an offended woman's pride." 
 Mercator heard unmoved his hapless fate. 
 Then sadly slow retired disconsolate. 
 While lords and captains to their beds repair, 
 And lose in sleep the weight of every care. 
 
 n 
 
THE KISS; 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE FREAKS OF CHRISTMA8 DAY. 
 
 CAIVTO SECOND. 
 
 !l 
 
THE KISS; 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE FREAKS OF CHRISTMAS DAY. 
 
 CAXTO SECONP, 
 
 The sun now rose in splendid brightness o'er 
 The snow-clad heights of Nova Scotia's shore, 
 With wintery lustre ushered in the day, 
 To guilty mortals pregnant with dismay. 
 Behold a court of married ladies held, 
 In youth and beauty's charms by none excelled, 
 To try the merits of a lady's case, 
 And peal Mercator's credit or disgrace. 
 
II 
 
 II 
 
 I 
 
 
 li - 
 
 ; V 
 
 00 
 
 THE KISS ; OR, 
 
 To rule their actions ami their conduct guide, 
 See, Maida, first elected to preside. • 
 The beauteous Maida, whose sweet tempered mind , 
 Some angel fashioned, or some god designed ; 
 Whose gentle manners, unaffected grace. 
 Still added lustre to her beaming face. 
 XarifFa, next in youthful bloom appears, 
 The fair and lovely mover of our tears ; 
 Whose winning smiles unconsciously impart 
 
 The truth and goodness of a virtuous heart. 
 
 » 
 
 By charming looks and native virtue graced, 
 On her right side the pretty May was placed, 
 And next, sweet Leila, in herself displayed 
 The charms of many a fair and tender maid. 
 To take the left, see graceful Thais named, 
 Thais, for youth and beauty highly famed. 
 Close to her side in roseate bloom was seen. 
 Divinely bright, the " vexed Bermoothes" Queen, 
 Another seat to Eella was assigned, 
 Whoso generous heart to kindest deeds inclined, 
 
 
THK rP.t;AKS OF CHRISTMAS DAY. 
 
 6t 
 
 itlc, 
 
 edinind, 
 led : 
 
 [irt 
 •t. 
 
 cd, 
 
 d 
 
 aid. 
 
 I. 
 
 3en, 
 Queen . 
 
 ;lined> 
 
 btill laboured for the humble poor's repofc, 
 
 Their wants relieved and solaced all their woe?. 
 
 iVIyra, the fair, the last left scat obtained, 
 
 While Chloe's graceful form the right maintained. 
 
 To guard the rights of every prisoner's cause. 
 
 A claim admitted by their wholesome laws, 
 
 Hinda, the wise Judge Advocate became, 
 
 And fitter none in all the rolls of fame. 
 
 With anxious fear and trembling hope opprossnl. 
 
 The fair accuser thus the court addressed : 
 
 <' Yc honored ladies, who this court compose. 
 
 Permit my humble efforts to disclose 
 
 The painful reasons that have led me here^ 
 
 And bid me in your presence now appear : 
 
 Last night were met a gay selected few. 
 
 To please the knight, and waste an hour or two. 
 
 When all proposed a game of Blind-Man's- Buff. 
 
 For children's play a pretty game enough. 
 
 As I and Hallie oh the sofa sat, 
 
 Engaged in converse and familiar chat, 
 
 F 
 
6> 
 
 THE KISS ; 01", 
 
 The odious prisoner thinking it no iiarni, 
 Came slyly up, and cauuht me l)y the arm, 
 Atul wiiile I tried and struggled to get IreCj 
 Oh! matchless deed! he snatched a kiss from me. 
 Dear to mv heart is an unblemished name, 
 And dearer still a virtuous woman's fame, 
 To your great justice, therefore, I appeal, 
 AtuI trust your judgment will this insult heal ; 
 Then let your power and wisdom now decide 
 What's due to an offended female's pride. 
 To prove my charge let Hallie here repair. 
 She saw it all, and can its truth declare. 
 
 Before the court the pretty Hallie rose, 
 VV^hile modest softness in each feature glows, 
 And said; " she could not certainly declare 
 Whether or not the prisoner kissed the fair ; 
 She thought that in the bustle of the throng 
 Mercator's lips, — but still she might be wrong ; 
 For in the midst of so much joy and fun. 
 She hardly knew herself what deed was done, 
 
 I 
 
 \ 
 
TllK FRKAKS OF CHRISTMAS U.VY 
 
 0.5 
 
 lo 
 
 She only Kciw if slie lefriined her place, 
 She'd soon be subjeet lo his kind cnjl)race, 
 To cheat his hopes she therefore turned away, 
 And thou her friend became Mercator's prey." 
 
 The court, amazed, in solemn silence heard 
 This charge against the prisoner preferred, 
 With deep regret they heard the \\itnes3 too, 
 Declare the accusation just and true, 
 
 " Oh, all ye ladies, who this court compose," 
 Exclaimed the lovely Maida us she rose, 
 " And please to speak one only at a time, 
 What punishment is due to this great crime r" 
 " Hold, hold," the grave Judge Advocate replied, 
 " In haste condemn not, nor unheard decide ; 
 First, let the court the prisoner's story hear, 
 That claims injustice your attentive car ; 
 iVrhaps, he may, when placed on his defence, 
 ilefute the charge or palliate the offence." 
 
 Beneath the pressure of a thousand fears. 
 The sad dejected prisoner now a])pcars, 
 
64 
 
 THK K1!^S : OK, 
 
 Before thiri great august tribuuul staucLs, 
 And trembling, listens to its high coininandb. 
 
 " Mercator, hear! and learn it undismayed, 
 Against you here a dreadful charge is laid. 
 Our gentle Albyn has declared that you, 
 And which our lovely Hallie swears is true, 
 Unmindful of our modest female laws, 
 And careless of our high and chaste applause, 
 Last night embraced her in your hateful arms, 
 And robbed her check of all its fairest charms, 
 Could you, forgetful of your rank in life. 
 Thus injure and insult a virtuous wife? 
 Coultl you, regardless of our high decree, 
 Thus overwhelm the pride of modesty ? 
 Speak out, let manly truth your accents guide, 
 Impartial justice shall your cause decide." 
 
 A graceful bow the attentive silence broke. 
 And thus in faltering terms Mercator spoke: 
 " Far from my heart be every low pretence, 
 To prove or render doubtful this olfencc. 
 
 i 
 
 
I 
 
 VHE FIJEAkS OV (:MRIST.M\s DAY. 
 
 Ci 
 
 No, lovely fair ones, a\ liose uuj^u.sl dccroc 
 
 'i'liis awful duv condcMiins or sots iiio IVeo, 
 
 By all my hopes of earthly bliss I swear, 
 
 I ne'er intcn<h;il to insult the fair. 
 
 In boyish hours, and manhood's brjuhier days, 
 
 I've oft indulged in Christmas freaks and l)lays, 
 
 W'iien Blind-ISIan's-Buffoin' Scottish f-irls insj.ired, 
 
 The same success the same reward acfjuircd ; 
 
 And when, last nij^ht, I .smitched the slru^clini: kiss, 
 
 I felt unconscious that I did amiss ; 
 
 But since jny youthfid ileeds such i)ain impart, 
 
 And cause such anguish to a tender heart, 
 
 Oil, could this fault your jKirdon once obtain. 
 
 My lips should ne'er solicit it again: 
 
 Then in your wisdom I repose my cause, 
 
 May ju>ticc govern, mercy guide your laws." 
 
 Thecourt was clear'd, unseen theMiise rcniain'd. 
 And thus their grave proceedings she obtained. 
 " Oh, all ye ladles! who this court coiupose," 
 
 Kxclaimed the loveiv Mnitlii as she rose, 
 
 1.2 
 
 
 mi 
 

 >'J 
 
 I 
 
 f 
 
 
 ■I 
 
 66 
 
 THE KISS ; Oil, 
 
 '' And pk'use to speak one only at a time, 
 What punishment is due to this great crime r 
 How vile a deed it is to kiss the fair, 
 And married too, you must be well aivare. 
 Mercator has declared with manly sense, 
 He did not mean to give the least offence, 
 And though I feel in every way inclined 
 This fault to pardon with a willing mind, 
 We should, I think, some strong example make, 
 That forward men may learn by this miBtakc, 
 If they infringe our sacred female laws, 
 And act unmindful of our chaste applause. 
 Our power unbounded and our high decree 
 Can plunge their hearts in endless misery. 
 Then let each member in her turn decide, 
 What's due in justice to our injured pride, 
 Speak fast, thou lovely mover of our tears, 
 What punishment to you most fit appears ?" 
 " Suppose," Xarilla cried, mild, meek, and sage, 
 '' Wc black hia facc; and sicud him on the stcig<.\'' 
 
THE FREAKS OF CHUISTMAS PAY. 
 
 67 
 
 '• Oh, dear me, no!" exclaimed the pretty May, 
 " What ? let him come before us in a play ! 
 Believe me, ladies, if I had my will, 
 His presence soon should grace a Treading Mill." 
 " There is," said Leila, " in the Artillery Park, 
 A great, big mortar, monstrous black and dark, 
 I'd put him in it for a week or two," 
 ^' Oh, yes," said Bella, " that indeed will do." 
 " I think," replied the ' vexed Bermoothes' Queen, 
 " At balls and plays he should no more be seen, 
 Beneath my roof he never shall appear, 
 With my consent at least for half a year." 
 " If," Myra said, " his fate were in my hand, 
 I'd send him to some rocky barren land^ 
 To dig and delve ;" " Yes," Chloo soon replied, 
 '' And cat the roots which nature has supplied." 
 " Though last of all in this fair band of fame. 
 Let me," cried Thais, "your attejition claim: 
 Though young, ;jerhaps, I may this day impart 
 A way to punish that will please each heart. 
 
6S 
 
 THE ITISS ; OR, 
 
 I 
 
 ■ 'l] : 
 
 While driving ycsternoon along the stn.'et, 
 
 I chanced a great l^ig hlack dray horse to mecl, 
 
 His head and face were with a bridle bound, 
 
 And leathern strai)s about his mouth went round. 
 
 I asked my fatlier why he was confined, 
 
 And for what purpose were the straps designed, 
 
 He said the horse was ver^^ apt to bite 
 
 Those ladies who might come within his sight, 
 
 To avert the danger that might thus arise, 
 
 They placed a muzzle just below his eyes. 
 
 My plan would be, if the fair court's agreed, 
 
 Much in the self-same manner to proceed." 
 
 " Bravo! agreed! yes, yes," each member cries, 
 
 And shouts of approbation filled the skies. 
 
 " Silence! the court vou say arc all aij^rccd, 
 Mercator's mouth to muzzle for this »leed. 
 Let him be called, aiul hear the Iiij-h decree 
 Which justice grants to Albyn's modesty." 
 
 " Hear, Mercator, hear! what we now decif^p 
 Is justly due to injin'od Albyn's pridr. 
 
 J 
 
THE FllEAKS OF CHRISTMAS DAY. 
 
 iJO 
 
 The court decrees you must for some eliort time, 
 Without (leUiy, be muzzled for your crime, 
 And on your future conduct will depend. 
 The day when this sad punish^ncnt will end." 
 
 " Whatc'cr the court decrees I shall obey, 
 1 trust too, not far distant is the day 
 Your lost esteem my conduct will regain, 
 And my submis:?ion your regard obtain." 
 
 The Court dissolved, Mercator walked away, 
 And ended thus, '* The Freaks of Christmas Day f' 
 
 
 i.r 
 
 J'! 
 
 ■iUl 
 

 THE MISTAKE. 
 

THF. 
 
 i?fimTAiti\ 
 
 Come, Muse, {iiul sing how doctors spread iho-ir 
 
 fame, > 
 
 And well bred ladies gain a deathless name. 
 From small mistakes what direful troubles flow, 
 How trifling errors prove the source of woe ; 
 In life's gay scenes Avhat trivial things impart 
 A moment's joy or anguish to the heart. 
 
 Near Sackville's stream that winding through 
 the plain. 
 Pours its dark waters to the distant main, 
 There by a gentle slope a mansion stands, 
 By woods encompassed, rocks and sterile land^. 
 
74 
 
 THE JflSTAKK 
 
 By nature barren , thoiif^'h tlir rmnor's toil 
 With tinio ami culluro ha«l improved the soil. 
 This spacious house contained a lovely pair^ 
 He kind and tender, she divinely lair ; 
 Whose lives in one contented course were passed, 
 And every hour seemed happier than the last. 
 Their beauteous children too ])y numbers proved j 
 How great the bliss of those who long had loved 
 
 It chanced the maid fell ill, I can't say why. 
 Maidens are mortal, and must therefore die. 
 But so it was, death stared her in the fiicc. 
 And Betty fancied hers a dangerous case. 
 Straight to her mistress, then, in fright she flew, 
 " Dear ma'am, oh ma'am ! what, madam, shall 1 do t 
 I'm sick, I'm ill indeed, and full of pain, 
 It comes and goes, oh, there it comes again ; 
 Oh, send to town, dear mistress, if you please, 
 I'm sure some physic now would give me ease." 
 *' Good Betty, do not thus alarm your mind,-' 
 Heplied her gentle mistress-; '' be resigned j 
 
THE MISTAKE. 
 
 75 
 
 ii 
 
 soil, 
 mir, 
 
 I last, 
 proved, 
 J loved 
 why, 
 lie. 
 
 e flewj 
 ball 1 tlo .'' 
 
 m; 
 
 case. 
 
 ease. 
 
 ul,^' 
 
 >j 
 
 lis some .slijilit cold you've cnupht and iiothin; 
 
 jiiorc, 
 A lew hours rest will soon your health restore. 
 Go, get a nice warm drink, and go to sleep, 
 First Ijathe your feet, and do'nt forget to keep 
 Yourself well wrapped and covered up vvitk 
 
 clothes, 
 You'll find your head much better for repose." 
 The morning came, but still poor Betty grieved, 
 The night had not her sad complaints relieved. 
 Again she sought her mistress, and applied 
 For what the night before had been denied. 
 
 ' Dear ma'am, the drink in vain has given mc ro.- ' 
 My head is still with dreadful pain oppressed, 
 J)o let our Thomas now to town repair. 
 He'll not be long, I'm sure, in going there." 
 
 'No, Betty, no," the tender fair re})lied, 
 •' It's much too early yet you know, beside, 
 John will be busy, Thomas can't attend, 
 ii pronnised ihal I would the chariot lend 
 
76 
 
 THi: MlSTAKf.. 
 
 But Mr. Pujru rrpairs to town to-day. 
 
 And to tlic doctor shall vour fear.-? coiivcv.'* 
 
 At nine o'clock the breakfast cloth was laid, 
 VVitli colTce, ton, and toast thereon displayed ; 
 And, ielc-a-tctc, the wile and hiislnind sat, 
 Talking of balls, and plays, and snch chit-<diat. 
 '* My love," the lady cried, "I'm grieved to say, 
 Betty, onr maid's, extremely ill tc-day. 
 liust evening, just before we went to bed, 
 A darting pain attackc<l her in the head, 
 I thought 'twas merely cold, but there aj)pear 
 Some dangerous symptoms which excite my fear." 
 " Dear me," rejoined the spouse, "I'm sorry too, 
 Betty's a creature faithful, good and true ; 
 Soon as my breakfast's o'er I'll go to town, 
 And there consult the skilful Doctor Brown, 
 He, I am sure, will soo!i afford relief. 
 And far remove the source of Betty's grief." 
 
 To town went Page, and with a serious face, 
 Related to his friend poor Betty's case: 
 
5? 
 
 V. 
 
 s laid, 
 uycd ; 
 t, 
 
 t-chat. 
 I to say. 
 
 pear 
 
 ny fear.'- 
 
 nry too, 
 
 ni, 
 
 1 ■•> 
 
 J face. 
 
 THE MISTAKE. 77 
 
 '•Dear Drown, our inaKl in vo\y ill iiploetl^ 
 Pray let some person to our house proceed, 
 This niorninj^ in a dangerous state she lies, 
 And frightens all the children with her crie.-j, 
 Complains of aches a1)out her hack and head, 
 And fears she'll soon be nnnihcred with tin; dead." 
 
 '^ Bless mo," replied the doctor, " this is had ' 
 Relief immediate must of course be had: 
 I'll send some one, will Bland or Larkin do .'' 
 Either, this instant, shall repair with you; 
 In this, as every other case confessed , 
 Larkin, I think, will answer much the best. 
 Where women's feeUngs nicely arc ob.>eiveil,. 
 A married man should ever be preferred.'^ 
 
 While thus the honest spouse his time euipluycd, 
 Far other cares his tender wife annoyed, 
 Those cares that give good wives sincere delight. 
 As overlookmg, putting thmgs to right, 
 Training the servanli^, oending boys to school. 
 And makinj? pies by Mistress Glass',^; rule. 
 
 r:0 
 
78 
 
 THE MISTAKK. 
 
 H 
 
 TIr'sc duties ended, every hibour o'er, 
 John was directed, till the hour of lour, 
 His fair and beauteous mistress to deny, 
 To all who might in niornin*^ calls apply. 
 And now, obedient to his master's will, 
 Larkin directs his course o'er bridge and hill ; 
 And mounted on his noble dark bay marcj 
 With eager haste drives through the frigid air • 
 Before the door arrived his knock proclaims 
 To all who hear some one admission claims. 
 The door nnlocked, the gallant doctor cries, 
 " Pray is your master in :" "no," John replies ; 
 " My master went to town two hours ago;" 
 *' Your mistress then's at home?" " oh, no sir, no! 
 She's gone out too, and wont be home before 
 The afternoon, at three o'clock or four." 
 *' If that's the case, I'll sec the servant maid. 
 And please to say, if not by weakness staid, 
 That Doctor Larkin is at present here, 
 And would be glad if she'd at once appear.'' 
 
THE MlbTAKL. 
 
 7H 
 
 IJII; 
 
 air • 
 
 ns 
 
 IS. 
 
 es, 
 epiies ; 
 
 5) 
 
 sir, jio! 
 )rc 
 
 J, 
 I, 
 
 \s John was gone to sunimoii tlown the inaiti, 
 In Dioniing dress and dishabille arrayed, 
 While her loose zone abundant proof aftords, 
 How ladies wisli to bo who love their lords, 
 The mistress entered ! think with what surprise 
 All vc who such a si^ht can realize : 
 " Oh, oh ! you little rogue, my pretty heart, 
 Vour case is clear I see, come, now ini]>art 
 Your story, I'll be secret, when and where, 
 What luckless hour deceived a girl so fair." 
 " Sir," cried the lady, while her blushing face 
 Convinced the Doctor of her sad disgrace ; 
 '* If here you come disposed to give offence, 
 Some other subject might afford pretence." 
 " Come, conie, sit down, and tell me all your grief," 
 Jleplied the Doctor, ^* I can grant relief: 
 Come, tell me all about it, tell me who 
 Has thus l)cen faithless, cruel, and untrue ?" 
 " Sir," cried the lady in a monstrous rage, 
 '* I, Sir, I, I am Mistress. Mistress Pag^ !" 
 

 h 
 
 IH> 
 
 TH£ MISTAKt: 
 
 (jiood heavens, liuvv the a.vtonirihcd Doctor fcUued, 
 
 cd 
 
 For every thing but this he went j>rc[ 
 
 '' Madam, i ))cg — 1 hojjc, that is, 1 mean — 
 
 I understood to-day you'd not be seen. 
 
 The servant told me at the outer door, 
 
 You'd not be home until the hour ol* four ; 
 
 Upon my word I took you for the maid, 
 
 And thus my want of knowledge have betrayed; 
 
 But pray forgive me, madam, if I sny 
 
 You've caused yourself this sad mistake to-day." 
 
 The Doctor saw the maid, and soon relieved 
 The pains and aches that lieUy sadly grieved ; 
 Itcfroshcd with cake and wmc he then withdrew 
 Returned to tovvn> and tolls the talc to you. 
 
 
 *a 
 
fct:ii(^(i 
 
 THE 
 
 DEATH OF FIi\r¥ETTl::. 
 
Tin: 
 
 DEATH OF FIJ^J^ETTE. 
 
 Come here, FiiinoUCj my great decree 
 
 From which no hope remains for thee, 
 
 This (hiy resolves to take your liie, 
 
 And end ycivr barkinir, brawl, and strife ; 
 
 V'oiir black imkhulness rives my heart, 
 
 Your baseness, cruelty, and art, 
 
 No longer yhall protection fuid. 
 
 To guilt I'll be no longer blind. 
 
 But for your crimes your life 1-11 take, 
 
 And <lrown you in the briny lake, 
 
 That dogs may learn from your sail fate, 
 
 A warnini; lesson ere too late, 
 
Kl 
 
 n 
 I 
 
 1^ 
 
 h£ 
 
 V ' 
 
 84 
 
 DEATH OF FlNNKTTil, 
 
 \Vlicn('''cr tlioy broak tlioir lonPn coniiiiaiKl; 
 And scorn the bounty oi' his hand. 
 That ju.stico will not e(;a.sc to trnco, 
 And punish all the canino race; 
 Thorclbrt', at three, oh, fii'al hour ! 
 I'll come, and witli tremendous power, 
 Relentless by a dreadful whirl, 
 To shades i)elow your boily hurl ! 
 
 " My honored master, ever dear. 
 One moment my petition hear ; 
 Oh say, for what untoward crime. 
 Unheard in youn«^ life's opening prime. 
 Can you thus shorten all my days, 
 The whole too short to speak your praise ; 
 Oh, tell me, what sad act of strife 
 Deserves so soon the loss of life ? 
 Unconscious of tiic deed I've done, 
 How lost your love or anger won. 
 My wish has ever been to please, 
 Oh, take my life when that shall cease; 
 
DEATH OF FINNETTE. 
 
 35 
 
 I 
 
 i\Ty tlioiights no other master owiij 
 
 No otlier patron have 1 known, 
 
 By actions I have tried to sheWj 
 
 The debt of gratitude I owe. 
 
 Can you forget, for your dear tiake, 
 
 How often I have Iain awake, 
 
 How often watched l)y your bed «ide, 
 
 PVom morning dawn till eventide ? 
 
 How oft obedient to your call, 
 
 A stone I brought, or stick, or ball 5 
 
 And while your pleasure you expressed . 
 
 Have fondly poor Finnette caressed. 
 
 Oh, think and still remember this, 
 
 That all my joy and highest bliss 
 
 Have been to love and you obey, 
 
 No wish beside could I betray." 
 
 Vile dog, this canting, lying tale^ 
 
 No useful purpose can i^vail. 
 
 V^our vcvy words impel your fate, 
 
 And now repentance comes too late. 
 
 H 
 
 
86 
 
 ULATII OF FINNETTi::. 
 
 ii 
 
 r ; 
 
 My best coimnands have met your slight, 
 Which kiiully bade you not to fight. 
 Have I not chid your horrid noise, 
 When barking at the dirty boys ? 
 Ha»'C I not told you not to stray, 
 And yet how oft you ran away ? 
 Have you not often lain your head. 
 Upon my nice, cleaii, new-made bed ? 
 And when I beat you for the fault, 
 Until I made you limp and halt. 
 You still contemned, despised my laws, 
 And laid again your filthy paws, 
 And left behind your nasty fleas, 
 To fatten on my feet and knees. 
 My servant's heel did you not bite, 
 Until he roared with pain and spite ? 
 At last you've reached so bad a state, 
 You growling, biting, vile ingrate, 
 That I've declared you shall not stay, 
 To shame mv house another dav- 
 
DKATII OF FINNETTL. 
 
 87 
 
 " Kind master still one moment hear, 
 If e'er Finnette to you were clear, 
 If over by a sportive art, 
 I pleased your kind and tender heart. 
 Do not forsake me in despair, 
 Despise not now my hum])le prayer. 
 My guilt and folly stand confessed, 
 By shame and grief my heart's oppresse<l, 
 And all my lite could not atone, 
 For deeds of vice and riot done ; 
 My life a forfeit to your rage, 
 Alas ! too at an early age, 
 I ask not, nor do I complain. 
 That death will finisii soon my pain. 
 Vet, oh! I leave my pups behind, 
 Four little i)ups which yet arc blind, 
 Exposed to bitterness and want, 
 And left to seek some wretched haunt 
 Fur from a mother's care, indeed! 
 It makes my very heart-strings bleed. 
 
 mm 
 
i i 
 
 t' 
 
 88 
 
 DEATH OF FINNETTt. 
 
 Have iiifiiy then, in pity span; 
 
 IMy lil'f in pc a<M; until I rear 
 
 My ji;ontIc wlirlps, that they may know 
 
 How ^i(;at my i>enii(3ncc and woo." 
 
 V'our wish is lati^ your wlirlps can ^ain 
 No knowledge orilieir mothcr'ri pain. 
 Their eyes arc closed, their brofith is fled, 
 Their hodies numhered with the dead, 
 Beneath tlie waves inunersed they Jio, 
 The Hca is now tiieir eanojjy. 
 ll'egone, like them the ocean's wave 
 Shall 1)0 your sad and watery grave, 
 Kor when my daily toil is o'er, 
 I'll senil you to your puppies lour. 
 About your neck a cord shall go, 
 A stone attached, and then I'll throw 
 Your worthless l)ody to the waves, 
 Fit place for dogs' and puppies' graves. 
 
 " Tremendous thought! in young life's bloom, 
 Stern death consigns nic i(» the tomb, 
 
 A 
 \ 
 
 T 
 V 
 
DEATH OF FINKETTK. 
 
 89 
 
 A few ttliort lleeting inoment:^ o'er, 
 
 /Vnd poor Finnctte will be no more. 
 
 Oh, all yc dogs, my fate who learn. 
 
 This warning lesson do not spurn, 
 
 Ye dogs who snuff the northern air, 
 
 Ve greyhounds fleet who course the hare, 
 
 Ye poodles with your shaggy coats, 
 
 And bull dogs with your brazen throats, 
 
 Ye ])caglo.s, trained to beat the field, 
 
 And spaniels which obedience yield. 
 
 Ye pugs, and curs, and small turnspits. 
 
 The cook's attendant, and the wit's ; 
 
 Mastiffs and whelps, and all who find 
 
 A safe abode with human kind, 
 
 Whether, on liapland's snows ye run, 
 
 Or pant beneath a scorching sun j 
 
 Whether ye grace a lady's lap, 
 
 Or on the hearth-rug take a nap; 
 
 Whether ye guard the rich jnan\-> gate, 
 
 Or cottage of an humbler stale; 
 
 h3 
 
J 
 
 00 
 
 DEATH OP PlNNETTt:. 
 
 ! 
 
 I , 
 
 IJy my example wisdom loani. 
 And from your vicious lKU)its tuni; 
 Your lord's nilectiou try to share. 
 Your mastcr'ri wishes be your care, 
 And wlicn to rest you feci inclined 
 Take such a place as is assigned, 
 And never, never, lay your head, 
 Upon your master's new-made bed ; 
 Remember, all who learn my fate, 
 And shun my errors ere too late." 
 
 She ceased — the stone high upward hifiled 
 Removed j)oor Finnettc from the world; 
 And now she rests beneath the main, 
 For ever free from guilt and pain. 
 
 'I 
 
 *«4*l- 
 
]¥EW-YEAR'J^ ABBUJCSJ^, 
 
 
 C(l 
 
 Foil isao. 
 
IMAGE EVALUATION 
 TEST TARGET (MT-3) 
 
 4 
 
 
 
 z 
 
 <^ 
 
 1.0 
 
 1^ 1^ 
 
 1^ 12.2 
 
 a. m 
 
 1.1 l."^ I- 
 
 18 
 
 
 l'-25 11'^ ' 
 
 
 ^ 
 
 6" 
 
 ► 
 
 V] 
 
 V) 
 
 / 
 
 M. 
 
 >■ 
 
 ^ W^ V 
 
 *^ 
 
 *^;s^ 
 
 y 
 
 %^>> .^^1 
 
 ?^ 
 
 r 
 
 Photographic 
 
 Sciences 
 
 Corporation 
 
 33 WEST MAIN STREET 
 
 WEBSIiiR.N.Y. MS80 
 
 (716) 872-4503 
 
I w 
 
 The following Addresses for the New- Year, 
 were written for " The Novascotian,^^ a weekly 
 periodical, published at Halifax, and at the time 
 owned by Mr. George R. Young. 
 
 f 
 

 v-Year, 
 weekly 
 le time 
 
 NEW-YEAR'S ADDRESS, 
 
 FOn 1S26. 
 
 The days arc all gone and the moments arc flcdj 
 
 That filled up the last flectmg year, 
 111 vain may we sigh Ijut they cannot be led 
 
 To linger again with us here. 
 
 With pride, my dear Patrons, I offer my lay. 
 By our customs a tribute now due ; 
 
 A task ever pleasing my duty to pay. 
 And the events of the past year review. 
 
 Through the wide-spreading world still (he ban 
 ner of peace, 
 Ts in beauty and splendour unfurled. 
 
 
 ,1 
 
 iU ( 
 
i ■; 
 
 i 
 
 I 
 
 I : 
 
 I 
 
 H 
 
 94 
 
 ^ew-year's address. 
 
 Except, o'er the vallies and mountains of Greece, 
 Once tlie glory and pride of the world. 
 
 Oh ! where is the bosom so cold or so taine 
 That feels not her insults and woes ; 
 
 While the home of her gods, and her temples of 
 fame 
 Arc trampled by tyrants and foes. 
 
 Oh ! where is the eve that can shed not a tear 
 For her heroes who nobly have bled ; 
 
 In whose cause has been sacrificed all that was 
 dear. 
 And the spirit of Byron has fled. 
 
 Yet, 'twas worthy thy fate, oh, thou wonder of 
 earth. 
 
 Thus to fall at so noble a shrine j 
 'Twas worthy thine honor, thy fame, and thy birth, 
 
 And a genius immortal like thine. 
 
f Greece, 
 
 Line 
 
 a tear 
 
 tliat was 
 
 onder of 
 
 [ thy birtli, 
 
 smples of \ 
 
 new-yeak's address. 
 
 95 
 
 From the gay fields of France and her vine-cover- 
 ed bower.Sj 
 
 Still the spirit of liberty flies ; 
 And Italy, parent of sunshine and flowers, 
 
 A refuge to freedom denies. 
 
 And Spain, once the spot of the gallant and brave. 
 
 And chivalry's splendid array ; 
 Now ruled by a despot, a fool and a slave, 
 
 Wastes in anguish her manhood away. 
 
 Still England, fair England, is happy and free 
 As the wave which encircles her shore, 
 
 The dread of the world, and the Q,ueeu of the sea, 
 She owns not a wrong to deplore. 
 
 While in regions far distant the moments of time, 
 
 Thus brightly or sadly have sped. 
 With pleasure we turn to our own favoured clime. 
 
 And witness the twelvemonth that's»fled. 
 
' ai 
 
 % 
 
 new-year's address. 
 
 O'er the hearths of our childhood, the altars of 
 home J 
 
 Still freedom and happiness reign; 
 There contentment presides, so unwilling to roam. 
 
 While industry smiles on each plain. 
 
 To the breeze of the morn, see the white swelling 
 sail 
 
 Of commerce unshackled expand^ 
 Confined to no spot it may catch every gale. 
 
 And visit each far distant land. 
 
 There's the ship at the " Cove" will be fit very 
 soon. 
 
 To sport on the fathonvless tide, 
 And the "Whaler," I'm told, will be ready in June, 
 
 On the billows of Ocean to ride* 
 
 Our wcll-belovcd " Trusty" returns in the spring, 
 To her native fron's rocky-bound shore ; 
 
NE\V-YE\R'« ADDRESS. 
 
 01 
 
 altars of 
 
 Vnrl with her silks, cofTco anil nottons will Ininii 
 From the coasts of Bengal and Mysore. 
 
 to roam, 
 
 I swelling 
 
 How pleasant, mstead of the soft tallow light, 
 
 That flitters away in our halls ; 
 To see a wax taper transparent and bright, 
 
 Enliven our suppers and balls. 
 
 ale^ 
 
 )C fit very 
 
 y hi June, 
 
 Far better I'm sure, than the puppies that bark. 
 
 And annoy us each day in the street ; 
 To have a fine lion our guard after dark, 
 
 Or a tiger to crouch at our feet. 
 
 What fun for us devils to print all the new? 
 
 About Rajahs, and all sorts of teas ; 
 The prices of silks, and the death of Hindoos, 
 
 And of feats in the great southern seas. 
 
 E !: 
 
 e spruig, 
 
 iVor from this source alone will I lill up my pagOj 
 Other sulijects my labour ;5haU share. 
 
9S 
 
 NKW-YEAK'b ADDRESS. 
 
 The world's moral map, and the hints of the sage, 
 Shall meet with attention and care. 
 
 Then, my Patrons, accept for the year that is 
 passed, 
 
 My thanks, and my gratitude too ; 
 My future endeavours, I hope, like the last, 
 
 Will obtain a reception from you. 
 
 If pleasure and love, with their sweet bloomy 
 flowers. 
 Have circled each innocent heart ; 
 Ob ! still may they linger around your dear 
 bowers. 
 Nor e'er feel a wish to depart. 
 
 And thus, your poor poet will finish his lay, 
 Thus express his best wishes while here ; 
 
 May the morning be happy, and joyous the day, 
 That ushers in every New Year ! 
 
the sage, 
 
 that is 
 
 \ 1 
 
 If 
 
 1 
 
 > 
 1 
 
 1 
 
 1 .* 
 
 i 
 j 
 
 
 !f 
 
 \ 
 
 . 
 
 i 
 
 1 
 
 ;! 
 iV 
 
 j1 
 
 IB 
 
 t[ 
 
 ■M' 
 
 ' 
 
 
 ij 
 
 ast, 
 
 bloomy 
 
 I¥EW.¥EAK'S ADDRK^^; 
 
 FOR 1S27. 
 
 XI' dear 
 
 lay, 
 
 ire: 
 
 the (lay; 
 
 \im 
 
And 
 
 By] 
 
 My 
 
 To; 
 
 An( 
 
 Tht 
 
 Ter 
 
 ^ 
 
 Wl 
 Ma 
 
NEW-YEAR'S ADDRESS. 
 
 FOR 1827. 
 
 Before you, dear Patrons, ojicc more I appear, 
 
 And wish you sincerely a happy New-Year. 
 
 By your favor encouraged, again, on this day, 
 
 My tribute of verses with pleasure I pay, 
 
 To your kindness a tribute in gratitude due, 
 
 And proud shall I be were it worthy of you. 
 
 Then, if not obtrusive my Muse you will deem, 
 
 Permit me to tell how " I dreamed a dream. " 
 
 Methought by my labour fatigued and oppressed, 
 
 iSetting Pica and Brevier, I sunk into rest ; 
 
 When full in my view appeared a bright dome,, 
 
 Majestic as erst were the temples of Rome ; 
 
 i2 
 
 I! 
 
 in 
 
 ,1 
 
 ,1 
 
 i 
 
 ii 
 
 
 ■I' 
 
 ^1 
 
 1 
 
 ■ . ■, 1 
 
 
i 
 
 i(U 
 
 NEW-VEAIl'b ADDRESS. 
 
 Oil coluDins of l)0()ks from " the Pools" obtuincdj 
 And wroui^lit ]»y their hamliS its vast wcii^dit was 
 
 sustained. 
 VVliilo sculptured in order and bciuUy around^ 
 A cornice of songs the gay capitals crowned. 
 1 ijazed on the structure with awe and surprise, 
 For it seemed in its splendour to blend with the 
 
 skies, 
 And in bright golden letters as nearer I came, 
 I saw on its front " The Proud Temple of Fame.'' 
 Delighted at this, ere a moment's delay, 
 I advanced to llie gate «>f this palace of day ; 
 I passed through the portal, and oh! what a sjght^ 
 There I saw the nine Muses, all radiant and bright . 
 In silence 1 stood, while with awe I surveyed 
 The beauty and grace of each heaven-born maid. 
 On the right, in one corner, sat Clio the fair. 
 Heading Scotland's Statistics, by Sir John Sinclair ; 
 Guterpc was singing divinely beside her, 
 The jnusic of Frcischutz 1)V Carlo.^ Von Wcbcr ; 
 
ilili'.itU'd 
 
 i^^lil was 
 
 C(l. 
 
 vvilh tlio 
 
 Faiiic'.'^ 
 
 ycd 
 
 L*n maid 
 iiir, 
 Siuclaii , 
 
 NKW-YEAR'S AODftLSS. 
 
 lOJ 
 
 iVIid.s Thalia vvarf tlicrc witli Iior comical cyc^ 
 lloariiig loudly at Liston in honest Paul Pry ; 
 I'artlicr on I observed the sad Tragedy Queen 
 Weeping o'er the lost talent of poor Edmund 
 
 Kcan. 
 '' Alas!" she exclaimed, " that such worth should 
 
 expire, 
 In * the soldiers arc out, and the town is on fire.' " 
 On the left, Miss Terpsichore, sprightly and gay, 
 Jl la Vesiris unpas seul was footing away ; 
 Miss Erato stood near her, in eafh hand a book, 
 Moore's ' Loves of the Angels,' and famed ' Lalla 
 
 Rookh ;' 
 While Byron's ' Childe Harold,' and ' Juan's' Third 
 
 Part, 
 Engrossed the whole care of Calliope's heart. 
 On the right of the centre U.'ania was placed, 
 And the loft by sedate Polyhynmia was graced, 
 The first in deep thought on the course of a star 
 Picdictiii'j to jijorttds a UvciHv vciu'^ war 
 
 " 
 
104 
 
 NEW-Y ear's address. 
 
 The other t^electing a set of new rules, 
 To alter the logic now taught in the schools. 
 Thus each one engagetl, and with courage posscssM, 
 Methought the fair Muses at length I addressed. 
 "Misses Muses," said I, when, ye gods! what n 
 
 scream, 
 I wonder it waked nic not out of my dream, 
 " Oh, the devil! the devil! ^ exclaimed all the nine, 
 " Assist usj oh, save us, ; polio divine !" 
 Thus screaming, they rus ed altogether, and then 
 They scattered like chic' ens from under a hen. 
 Ere a moment elapsed le divine god of song 
 Appeared in the midst oi t.ie poor frightened throng, 
 " What's the matter," he cried, " whence arose 
 
 that wild crv, 
 That just now invaded our mansion on high ?" 
 •'Look there," they exclaimed, ^'is the cause of 
 
 our fright, 
 There, there, dear Apollo, sec that child of the 
 
 nisfht.'- 
 
N£U-yKAri> ADDKEbfe. 
 
 i05 
 
 Is. 
 
 }sscssM, 
 essed. 
 wlmi ;j 
 
 he nine. 
 
 md then 
 I hen. 
 
 Mig 
 
 1 throng, 
 CO arose 
 
 rh ?" 
 cause of 
 
 :l of the 
 
 How now,'' said hi« jrodshipv ^'^ why liere in this 
 place, 
 Thou demon of'thirkncss, thou imp of'diB/xrace." 
 '' V'our godship," said I, lor I wished to be civil, 
 •' I'm a young simple lad — a printer's poordcvil^ 
 Tis a custom with us. on a New-Year's joyous 
 
 day, 
 To ofier our Patrons cjome well written lay ; 
 Each apprentice composes in turn an address, 
 And Ned, being eldost, sent the last from our press, 
 it was nothing for him, but, alas ! I much fear, 
 I shall never be able to write one this j'car, 
 I ^hall lose every New-Year's gift, credit, and fame, 
 \nd be turned oft' at age, without a good name, 
 rhough my hands arc so black, and so inky my face, 
 IMeasc your godship, I s})rung from a white looking 
 
 rr.ce, 
 rhen pity my case, I'm at best a poor Poet, 
 Vet 1 wish not that every town critic should know- 
 it." 
 
 '•: 
 
 \ 11 
 
 
 <• , 
 
WW 
 
 1 ' ' 
 
 ^fl 
 
 1 
 
 
 1 '' 
 
 ; 
 
 1 i 
 
 
 ■■; 
 
 
 I 
 
 
 1 << 
 
 
 fi 
 
 ii 
 
 : 
 
 ? 
 
 lOG nevv-vear's address. 
 
 " Poor imp,'- cried the Muses, " but you frighten- 
 ed us so, 
 Well there make your jicaco >vith the god of the 
 
 bow." 
 " Then hear," said the god, as he rose to the sky, 
 Wafting softly on air to the regions on high, 
 *■• And observe my decree — let each goddess imparl, 
 To help the poor devil, some share of her art, 
 And touched by your spirit, your fjmcy and lire, 
 With genius and talent his bosom inspire." 
 
 «' Go then," said Miss Clio, " and tell all the world 
 The banner of peace is still proudly unfurled, 
 That the i»enius of liberty hovers in vain 
 O'er the fields of Italia, of Russia, and Spain ; 
 That Greece with her heroes: still nianfullv draws 
 Her sword for her freedom, her rights, and her laAvs, 
 And crowned v.ith success, again Athens will be 
 The home of the brave, the victorious, and free. 
 That Britain in grandeur hor station sustains, 
 And " Queen of the Ocean " her empire maintain?*; 
 
tVigliten- 
 )d of the 
 the skv, 
 
 « 
 
 <s imparl, 
 r art, 
 id fiiT, 
 
 I the world 
 irled , 
 
 Vpain ; 
 II V draw.s 
 I her laAVH, 
 will be 
 ml free, 
 aiiis, 
 iiaintains; 
 
 new-year's address. 
 
 107 
 
 Though the eloud.s of misfortune have darkened 
 
 her shore, 
 They are passed to revisit her children no more, 
 Again from her anguish rejoicing she'll rise, 
 The mistress of nations, and care of the skies. 
 
 " Go tell all the children of Acadia's dear plain, 
 There happiness, plenty, and liberty reign. 
 In climates far distant, that commerce and trade, 
 The white swelling sails of their ships have dis- 
 played ; 
 That riches and honour from industry spring. 
 And the wealth of the Indies is borne on its wing." 
 
 " Go say," from Calliope, last of the nine, 
 "^ To the writers and poets who bow at my shrine, 
 Well pleased with their homage, each talented 
 
 name 
 I will trace, with his work, on the records of fame. 
 The author's sound pamphlet whoso well written 
 
 page. 
 The wisdom displays of a judge and a sage. 
 
 i;: 
 
 
 11 Si 
 
 A ■);■ 
 
'; 1 
 
 11 
 
 103 
 
 new-year's address. 
 
 And for Iil*h-;s who has stood for his donr coiintrv'. 
 
 rii^hts, 
 I will weave the same wreath as for those gallant 
 
 knights, 
 Who, like Kempt, in each clime waved their swords 
 
 ill the sun, 
 Till Waterloo crowned all the fields they had won. 
 When works of such merit on my altars they rai.^c. 
 The Muse of Heroics will hail them with praise. 
 Now begone little devil !" another wild scream 
 Invaded my ears, and I w^aked from my dream, 
 And thus, my dear Patrons, having told it to yoii^ 
 Till another New-Year I will bid you Adieu ! 
 
 I i 
 
 i\ i 
 
• count I'v'. 
 
 3se gallant 
 
 leir swords 
 
 ' had won. 
 they raise J 
 th praise, 
 cream 
 dream J 
 it to yoii; 
 lieu ! 
 
 WEW.YEAR'^ ADDRESS. 
 
 FOR 1828, 
 
 K 
 
Il 
 
 Tii: 
 
 Tha 
 
 Bef( 
 
 In% 
 
 Auc 
 
 Yoi 
 
 Itr 
 
 If] 
 
 Ali 
 
 Ih 
 
 ] 
 
 A 
 
 Ai 
 
 H( 
 
NEW-YEAR'S ADDRESS, 
 
 FOR 1828. 
 
 i 
 
 The grateful task with promptness I obey 
 That now demands my tributary lay. 
 Before my Patrons I this time appear. 
 In strains of welcojue to the coming year, 
 And though Ned's place I can but ill supply, 
 Young birds must learn to hop before they fly. 
 I trust you'll not my muse presumptuous deem, 
 If I, like him, relate an humble dream ; 
 Alike engaged in the same hone?t cause, 
 I hope to gain some share of your ajiplausc. 
 
 Methought I slept, and lo ! before my sight, 
 A form appeared arrayed in robes of light. 
 Angelic sweetness o'er each feature played, 
 Her azure eyes soft innocence portrayed, 
 
 Ill's 'i 
 
 
112 
 
 NEW-YEAIl'S ADDRESS. 
 
 
 f 
 
 ^^^^s 
 
 a 
 
 ^HH 
 
 ^ 
 
 ^■1 
 
 ,1 
 
 ^^^H 
 
 % 
 
 ^^^^^H 
 
 it 
 
 ■■ 
 
 i 
 
 ■ ' 
 
 a) 
 
 ! 
 1 
 
 H 
 
 
 1 
 
 h' 
 
 Her flowing tressos o'er hor shoulders thrown, 
 Just touched the inargui of her waist-bound zone ; 
 A faultless form her shining dress displayed, 
 Faultless and fair as that celestial maid. 
 Who first unbars tho portals of the morn, 
 And sheds her rosy light on hill and lawn. 
 As thus entranced with wonder and delight 
 I gazed in silence on the beauteous sprite. 
 " Mortal," she said, in accents mild, *' arise, ^ 
 I come to lliec commissioned from the skies ; 
 Thy prayer, this moment at our throne preferred, 
 To see each kingdom of the loorld ! is heard ; 
 To guide thee safely round this earthly sphere, 
 And trace each action of the varied year. 
 To me belongs : — arise, come haste away. 
 Thy hopes may vanish with the least delay." 
 
 Thus having spoke she gently waved her hand, 
 And forth arose at her supreme command, 
 A splendid car, of rosy shell-work made, 
 With jasper stones and amethysts inlaid ; 
 
NEW-yEAIl'S ADDllKSS. 
 
 UJ 
 
 thrown, 
 lound zone 
 aycd. 
 
 rn, 
 vn. 
 light 
 itc. 
 
 ' arise, 
 kies ; 
 e preferred, 
 heard ; 
 sphere, 
 ar, 
 
 elav." 
 
 L her hand, 
 
 nd, 
 
 e. 
 
 Its (Miil)0»sed axle ibrjiicd of luassive gold, 
 On starry wheels of dazzling 1jrightJies.s rolled 
 In silken harness gorgeously arrayed, 
 I Two milk-white steeds their polished limbs dis 
 played, 
 
 While reins of hair, fr 
 
 oni angels' locks obtaineil. 
 
 Their course by turns directed or restrained. 
 -' Mortal," again the lovely seraph cried, 
 ^' Ascend and sit in safety by my side, 
 And since the faith and strength of those on high 
 To mortal minds our heavenly laws deny, 
 This braided wreath, formed of a seraph's hair, 
 Whose dying breath entrusted to njy care, 
 With gentle pressure must thy temples bind. 
 Its magic touch will guard thee, and, confined. 
 Let not a thought or wish thy lips betray, 
 My power acknowledge, and my voice obey. 
 Or, like Sol's son by Jove's rescntmenr hurled, 
 Down thou wilt sink inscjisatc to the world. 
 
 ill J: J 
 
 fill '1 
 
 if" 
 
 j^in 
 
 t . ! 
 
 I 
 
 n 
 
Ill 
 
 N KW-y K A II 'S A I) D HESS, 
 
 I 
 
 f 
 
 II :t 
 
 Now, speed my coursers, speed and hiiste awiiy, 
 Where eastern suns awake the glorious day." 
 She ceased : and then majestically slow, 
 We rose and left the shining- world below, 
 The distant hills receded from my view, 
 And blended softly with the ethcrial blue ; 
 But soon, by ardent strength and vigour fired, 
 Or by the lovely spirit's power inspired, 
 The fiery coursers with impetuous flight, 
 Rushed onward to the rosy gates of light ; 
 Swifter than Simoom's blast we seemed to fly. 
 And drive like lightning through the liquid sky ; 
 A ItMnbent flame the wheels behind us drew, 
 That shone like sunbeams on the morning dcAV ; 
 Through all my veins I felt a thrilling glow 
 Of rapture and ecstatic pleasure flow, 
 O'er every sense a soft enchantment stole, 
 And calmed the rising tumults of my soul. 
 
 Again the seraph spoke : " Now turn thine eye, 
 Behold, as gently down we sweep the sky, 
 
NKW-YK.VirS ADDIIESS, 
 
 11 
 
 e fiwiiv, 
 lay." 
 
 fired. 
 
 ofly, 
 
 itl sky ; 
 
 ? dew j 
 w 
 
 unc eyr., 
 
 I'nE KINGDOMS OF THE EARTH ill ordci' raiijrod. 
 From Time's first moment circling and unchanged. 
 See on the left, where Britain's sea-girt Isles, 
 In freedom nursed, and blessed with fortune's 
 
 smiles, 
 Their rank and power supremely great maintain. 
 The queen of arts and mistress of the main. 
 Tliough Canning's fate, by death's relentless 
 
 hand, 
 Drew tears of sorrow from the mournful land, 
 While Peel, or such as he, each action guides, 
 And o'er her courts a patriot King presides, 
 On sure foundations rest her wealth and fame, 
 Her deathless glory and immortal name. 
 Far on the right, behold Iberia's race, 
 In ignorance sunk, and fettered by disgrace. 
 Unworthy sons of proud and gallant sires, 
 No spirit warms them, and no glory fires ; 
 Beneath a despot, servile and depraved, 
 Thry live dishonored, and expire enslaved. 
 
 4 
 
 ■ 
 
 
 t ,'' 
 
 J 
 
 'Ik'" 
 
 / " 
 
 I' I 
 
 ^V: 
 
 I iit: 
 
lie 
 
 NEW- YE All S ADDIIKSS. 
 
 \ 
 
 
 Hero lovely France hi joy siiid plenty reigiin, 
 Heiilcli ill her clime, and mirth in all her plaints ; 
 And there Italia spreads her bloomy bovvers, 
 The land of sunshine and perennial flowercJ, 
 Where yon broad walls old ocean's breast ojjpcf (», 
 The amphibious race of Hollanders rei)ose ; 
 And far beyond the powerful realms extend, . 
 That Austria, Prussia, and the Russe defend. 
 Behold fair Greece, whose seats of classic lore.. 
 Of gods and sacred temples are no more. 
 Still hordes of foes possess her fertile field, 
 Her children still to tyrants basely yield ; 
 In vain her son his sword of vengeance draws, 
 His heart's pure blood flows vainly in her cause, 
 While base-born treachery lurks on every hand. 
 And leaders sell for gold their native land. 
 Oh, no ! the hearts that would their freedom gain, 
 In truth and honor must their rights maintain, 
 Disgrace can claim no refuge from the brave, 
 Nor cowards fill a Grecian Pairiol's grave. 
 
 I 
 
IIS, 
 
 plaiiisi J 
 
 rs, 
 
 iv<. 
 
 o])i»f;f (*, 
 
 
 1(1, . 
 
 ,'ii(!. 
 I lore. 
 
 causoj 
 hand, 
 I. 
 
 0111 gaiiij 
 
 tain, 
 
 ■ivc. 
 
 e. 
 
 NEW-YE All's AUnUESS. 
 
 117 
 
 Tims liavinj? traced the rcjilnisi of eastern skies, 
 Mortal, we'll turn where other worlds arise. . 
 Speed, speed, my coursers, speed and haste away, 
 Where slumbering sinks to rest the lord of day." 
 Again the steeds, by matchless science driven, 
 Impetuous rushed adown the vault of heaven. 
 Beneath the car the broad Pacific rolled, 
 One bright, vast, undulating sea of gold. 
 And soon afar like distant clouds arose 
 The Andes, mountains of eternal snows ! 
 Till slowly sinking near the earth we drew, 
 Where Darien's Isthmus lay ex])03ed to view. 
 " See where extending to the southern pole, 
 Around whose base terrific oceans roll, 
 In giant greatness stretch those fertile lands, 
 Whose nobler sons disdain their fathers' bands. 
 The cringing slaves of tyrant Kings no more ; 
 The shouts of freedom now from shore to shore 
 Resound ; the valiant, free, and brave, 
 No force can conquer, and no power enslave. 
 
 ■ 1^ 
 
 ^ 
 
 I;! 
 
 k 
 
 ;i 1 
 

 ! i 
 'I; 
 
 ft 
 
 i 
 
 lis 
 
 NEW-YEAir.S ADDUESS. 
 
 Far to the left CoUuiibia'rf States survey, 
 The powerful empire of some future day. 
 In childhood's hour upon a mother's breast, 
 They safely leaned, caressing and caressed. 
 But children oft desert a parent's cause, 
 Contenni her counsels and despise her laws, 
 And thus with them ; in manhood's ripened hour, 
 They flew to arms, and then disowned her power. 
 Yet time, a sure criterion must decide. 
 Who best a nation's destinies can guide, 
 The son who owns a proud republic's sway, 
 Or children that a sovereign's laws obey. 
 Still further on to earth's remotest ends 
 Whose unknown coast eternal ice defends, 
 The Indian's home, and refuge of the deer. 
 The trackless fields of Canada ajipear. 
 But mark the fruitful realms that intervene, 
 And like a garden variegate the scene; 
 Thy own dear native land Acadia's Plain, 
 That winds its devious course aioni;' the main. 
 
 '% 
 
it, 
 Hi. 
 
 Vii, 
 
 ed hour, 
 r power. 
 
 «y 
 
 iiuin. 
 
 new-year's address. 
 
 iiy 
 
 Free ronimeree there her flowinc sail expands, 
 And bears her freighted ships to different lands; 
 With bounteous hand there nature crowns the field. 
 And autumn's fruit a rich abundance yield; 
 No scanty pittance wrung from barren soil, 
 But plenteous gifts repay the laborer's toil, 
 While all the land luxuriant, rich, and gay, 
 Hope, freedom, peace, and happiness display. 
 There arts will rise, and each returning spring 
 Will bear increasing splendour on its wing ; 
 Then round the land as beams of science play, 
 And all its secret wealth expose to day, 
 Without prophetic aid I may proclaim 
 Its future greatness and unrivalled name ! 
 Mortal, farewell ! my pleasing task is done, 
 And I return to meet the setting sun, 
 Yet ere I go, a serapii's gift divine, 
 My braided wreath of hair, you must resign — " 
 ** Seraph, my thanks!" she vanished from my view, 
 " I woke, and thus mv dream reveal to vou !" 
 
 
 r ■ 
 
 £'■ 
 
 
 :l 
 lil 
 
 I 
 
 :| 
 
 'lit 
 
\p t 
 
 Tt 
 
 H( 
 
 H. 
 
 Pi 
 
 V 
 
 V 
 
THE TWENTY-FOURTH PSALM. 
 
 The spacious world to God belongs, 
 Man, beast, and fish, and bird ; 
 
 He formed the compass of the earth 
 By his Almi ghty word. 
 
 r 
 
 He framed and fixed it on the seas. 
 
 By his Almighty hand, 
 Prepared and stablished on the floods 
 
 Its great foundations stand. 
 
 Who shall ascend and see the Lord, 
 
 Who shall behold his face ; 
 
 What mortal rer.ch his holy hill. 
 
 Or view liis holv place ? 
 
 L 
 
 
'1 
 
 
 'H 
 
 ', 1 
 
 ' 
 
 122 
 
 THE TWENTY-FOURTH PSA.LM. 
 
 That man who hath an upright heart. 
 Whose hand from guilt is free ; 
 
 Whose mind is led from vain pursuits 
 And deeds of injury. 
 
 He shall receive, oh ! joyful sound, 
 
 The blessing of the Lord, 
 And righteousness his life shall crown, 
 
 Through God his Saviour's word. 
 
 These are the people of the Lord, 
 
 The chosen of his race j 
 These are the sons, oh ! Jacob's God, 
 
 Of them that seek thy face. 
 
 Erect your heads, ye gates unfold, 
 And spread your golden wings j 
 
 Lift up your everlasting doors, 
 Behold the King of Kings ! 
 
THE TWENTY-FOURTH PSALM. 
 
 Who is the King of glory ? who r 
 The Lord for might renowned, 
 
 Who guides the battle by his power, 
 And conquers all around. 
 
 Lift I'.p, ye gates ! erect your heads, 
 
 In shining state displayed, 
 The King of glory, lo ! he come*?, 
 
 In majesty arrayed. 
 
 123 
 
 :m 
 
 Who is the King of glory ? who r 
 
 The God who mercy brings ; 
 The Lord of Angels and of Hosts. 
 
 And ever King of Kings 1 
 
 II 
 
 \m 
 

 I 
 
 THE NINETY-FIFTH PSALM. 
 
 Oh, come ! and let us to the Lord 
 Our grateful voices raise, 
 
 In our salvation's strength rejoice. 
 And ever sing his praise. 
 
 Let us with psalms of love and joy 
 
 Into his courts repair : 
 Before his presence thankful come, 
 
 And shew our gladness there. 
 
 ■a 
 
 For God, the Lord, is great and good, 
 
 He is the God alone ; 
 Aljov e all gods a mighty king 
 
 Upon his heavenly throne. 
 
THE NINETY-FIFTH I'SALM. 
 
 Tlic corners of the spacioas earth 
 
 Are compassed by his hand, 
 The hills are his, and all their strength 
 
 At his supreme command. 
 
 The sea is his, he marked its bounds 
 
 And all its power controls ; 
 His hand prepared and formed the lands 
 
 Extending to the Poles. 
 
 J'>5 
 
 ) I 
 
 I 
 
 Oh, come ! and let us worship God, 
 Fall down before his face ; 
 
 In rapture kneel unto the Lord, 
 The maker of our race. 
 
 i 
 
 He is the Lord, our gracious God, 
 
 Who can our wants supply, 
 liike sheep we in his pastures {ccd^ 
 
 And on his hand rely. 
 
 1,2 
 
 m 
 

 ; SHI 
 
 1 ' 
 
 '^^H ' 
 
 i 
 
 ^■i 
 
 
 ^^Hi 
 
 1 
 
 ^^■i 
 
 
 H^H i 
 
 ' . ' 
 
 
 1 
 
 i 
 
 Ml 
 
 126 
 
 THE NINETY-FIFTH PSALM. 
 
 To-day if ye will hear his voice, 
 
 And be his people still ; 
 Beware, and harden not your hearts 
 
 Against his holy will. 
 
 As in those days when man provoked 
 
 His mighty God above.. 
 And tempted, in the wilderness. 
 
 His goodness, power, and love. 
 
 Your fathers tempted me of old, 
 
 And all my patience tried, 
 They saw my works, and proved the power 
 
 Which had their wants supplied. 
 
 For forty years my sight was grieved 
 
 By this rebellious race. 
 Which daily err within their hearts, 
 
 And have not known my grace. 
 
THE NINETY-FIFTH PSALM. 
 
 In wrath and vengeance then, I sware 
 
 Tho kingdoms of the blest 
 Should never their endowment be, 
 
 Nor their reward my rest ! 
 
 127 
 
 li 
 
 ! 
 
 Ill 
 
 m 
 
t ■; 
 
 "I: : 
 
 !' 
 
 JH 
 
 ■: 
 
 The following Address, (which, however, was 
 not accepted,) was written for the Halifax Garri- 
 son Theatre, when it was opened in March, 1822, 
 under the auspices of Mrs. Arnold, and Mrs. Xi- 
 MENES, who, with the assistance of other ladies of 
 the Garrison, sustained the principal female cha- 
 racters during the season. The performances com- 
 menced with " The Maid and Magpie," and the 
 Farce of " The Midnight Hour." The very ex- 
 cellent and chaste acting of these ladies obtained 
 the highest applause, and the favourable opinion 
 of their theatrical talents was shewn in the crowd- 
 ed circle of beauty and fashion, which attended 
 their appearance on every occasion. 
 
 N 
 
129 
 
 er, was 
 X Garri- 
 h, 1822, 
 ^Srs. Xi- 
 ladies of 
 ale cha- 
 ces com- 
 and the 
 very ex- 
 obtained 
 opinion 
 J crowd- 
 ittended 
 
 ADDRESS FOR THE AMATEUR THEATRE. 
 
 (spoken in the character of an officer.) 
 
 Since dreadful war distracts the land no more, 
 Nor hostile fleets invade the affrighted shore. 
 But peace her gentle banners now unfurled. 
 In softness waves triumphant o'er the world, 
 Our swords are sheathed; those swords which gain- 
 ed us fame, 
 And raised our country's greatness and her name. 
 How many days will pass ere England's band 
 Of noble hosts shall press Corunna's strand ; 
 And years expire, ere on the ensanguined plain 
 Her heroes' bones shall blanch the fields of Spain. 
 How many suns will sink in Western skies. 
 Ere victory's flag on Waterloo shall rise ! 
 That awful day, when Britain's towering might 
 Bade Gaul's proud eagles vanish into flight, 
 
 ' 
 
 m 
 
 itfS 
 
 '■r ■■ 
 
i 
 
 I' 
 
 ). 
 
 V 
 
 I. 
 
 r 
 
 T 
 
 I 1 
 
 I'll S 
 
 130 ADDRESS FOR Tilt AMATLUIl THEATUE. 
 
 ITer gallant sons, by native artlour led, 
 In glory's cause so nobly fought and bled. 
 Then, since wc can no more our arms employ, 
 To guard Old England and her foes destroy ; 
 No longer on the field and mountain wave, 
 As Britons conquer, or as Britons save: 
 We've turned our arts to suit the peaceful age, 
 And try our valour on this humble stage. 
 To night we come as candidates for fame, 
 And trust our merits will your plaudits claim. 
 In hopes to please with this our first essay. 
 We give " The Maid and Magpie " for the play. 
 Should that succeed, we'll next exert our power, 
 And keep you here until "The Midnight Hour." 
 Then if we fail or overact our part, 
 The fault is in the head and not the heart. 
 Methinks I see among these charming fair, 
 Yet no — there caimot be a critic there. 
 These manly souls I then may hope to find 
 Not less indulgent, generous, and kin<l. (Going.) 
 
HE. 
 
 TO A LADTj ON HER IJIRTH DAY. 
 
 131 
 
 roy; 
 1 ago, 
 
 aim. 
 
 le play, 
 power, 
 Hour." 
 
 I 
 
 Going. J 
 
 Vet hold ! one humble wish I have to tell 
 
 Before I go, and bid you all fiirewell, 
 
 Upon a soldier's wife our hopes depend, 
 
 Oh ! crown these hopes j bo all we ask, her friend ! 
 
 TO A YOUNG LADY, 
 
 • • r ' . 
 
 ON HER BIRTH DAY. 
 
 May every sun that wakes the morning skies 
 On thee in health, and peace, and safety rise ; 
 And as he sinks in glory in the West, 
 Still leave thee happy and supremely blest. 
 Oh, may thy gentle bosom never know 
 Affliction's anguish, or the weight of woe, 
 Far from thy breast be banished eveiy care, 
 Nor find one spot to fix his dwelling there. 
 May every joy that fortune's favors bring, 
 The hopes that blossom like young flow'rs in spring, 
 
n 
 
 132 
 
 TO A LADY, ON HER BIRTH DAY. 
 
 Affection's tear, and sympathy be thine, [shrine. 
 And the sweet thoughts that bloom on virtue's 
 May no sad feelings giv" thy bosom pain. 
 Or doubts of good a moment there remain ; 
 Each wish be thine, and may no fears impart 
 A transient pang to wound thy tender heart. 
 But crowned with every blessing Heaven can send. 
 By all befriended, and to all a friend, 
 May all thy days in cheerfulness be passed, 
 And every year prove happier than the last. 
 Oh, more than all, may he whose sovereign power 
 Protects thy life in every trying hour. 
 Direct thy steps and guide thy youthful mind. 
 That narrow wav that ends in bliss to find. 
 Then when thy youth is passed, and age comes on, 
 And, one by one, thy fleeting years are gone, 
 Ere thy last sigh is drawn, and ere thy breath 
 Resigns its spirit to the victor Death, 
 Oh may'st thou know, may some foretaste be given 
 That all thy hopes may find a rest in Heaven. 
 
V. 
 
 133 
 
 , [shrine, 
 on virtue's 
 
 n, 
 
 tiin ; 
 
 mpart 
 
 leart. 
 
 n can send, 
 
 sedj 
 last, 
 eign power 
 
 mind, 
 ind. 
 3 comes on 3 
 
 gone, 
 breath 
 
 !tc be given 
 
 FROM MYRA. 
 
 eaven. 
 
 Though long since departed, J remember the hour, 
 
 For in anguisih it often recurs to me now, 
 When I met you at eve in the rose-covered bower. 
 
 And in fondness and friendshi}) you plighted 
 your vow ; 
 AVhen in warm glowing accents I heard you de- 
 clare, 
 
 That never, no never, from me would you part ; 
 That in sorrow or rapture, hope, grief, or despair, 
 
 I should ever be mistress and queen of your heart. 
 
 Nor can I forget when a quick starting tear. 
 
 On my cheek stood awhile, and I doubt seemed 
 
 to say ; 
 
 That simple you called me and laughed at my fear, 
 
 Then kissed it in transport irentlv awav. 
 
 M ^ 
 
 .,1 
 
 I 
 
 » ■ 
 
 i[\ 
 
Hi 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 i' ' 
 
 134 
 
 FROM MYRA. 
 
 And you said, that my pathway for ever should be, 
 As the moments of time in joy hastened on ; 
 
 Full of flowrets that should blossom only for me, 
 Till life, and its pleasures, and sweetness were 
 gone. 
 
 Vet, I thought not a moment, ah ! too foolish 
 maid, 
 When I trusted I should e'er be deceived 5 
 Or that falsely and basely I could be betrayed, 
 
 By him in whom I had fondly believed. 
 Like the twilight of evening that dies in an hour 
 I thought not so soon would thy friendship de- 
 cay ; 
 Or the love that you pledged in the rose-covered 
 bower, 
 Would, like leaves in the autumn, fade so quick- 
 ly away. 
 
135 
 
 should be, 
 d on 5 
 ■f for me, 
 iiess were 
 
 ) foolish 
 
 ved ; 
 
 rayed, 
 
 i. 
 
 an hour 
 
 dship de- 
 
 -covered 
 
 so quick- 
 
 TO ROSINA. 
 
 Fare thee well ! but forget not the day 
 When in silence and sorrow we parted^ 
 
 Oh, think of the hour that bore you away, 
 And left me almost broken hearted. 
 
 Fare the . well! but, Oh, think of the time 
 When we met, ah ! how often together ; 
 
 And vowed and declared that no distant clime 
 Our heart's dearest feelings should sever 
 
 But should you in any dark moment of woe 
 Distrust all my vows and suppose them untrue. 
 
 Or think that my heart can its object forego, 
 And no longer, no longer, be faithful to you. 
 
 Oh ! breathe not a thought to dishonour the name, 
 Of him who is absent, far absent awav ; 
 
 m- 
 
 m 
 
 % 
 
 W 
 
 %. 
 
 fi- 
 
 Hi 
 
J 36 T«) THERESE. 
 
 Or imagine that falsehood can sully lii.s fame, 
 And his truth, ardent love, andfi-icndship l)etray 
 
 TO THERESE. 
 
 Look round, Therese, how soft those scenes aj)- 
 pear, 
 
 How calm, how beautiful, and still ; 
 No sound now breaks upon the listening car, 
 
 But murmurs from yon little rill. 
 
 So calm it is, the zephyrs of the air 
 
 Now sleep on every fragrant rose ; 
 In dewy softness resting linger there, 
 
 Till morning wakes them from repose. 
 
 And look, how softly does the queen of night 
 Descend along the cloudl'^s-^ skies ; 
 
AIR. 
 
 137 
 
 ITIO, 
 
 p Ijetrav 
 
 In bcivuty .shining by her lover's lij>ht. 
 And over foUowinj]^ as he flies. 
 
 ones a])- 
 
 2ar, 
 
 At such fi time when nature's magic powers 
 
 Present ti scene so pure as this, 
 'Tis said of old that angels left their bowers, 
 
 To taste on earth a mortal's bliss. 
 
 And well may they have left their happy skies, 
 To linger for a moment here, [eyes, 
 
 When hearts like thine, and looks, and sparkling 
 Are tenants of our humble sphere. 
 
 
 iirht 
 
 A I R. 
 
 She left her father's halcyon cot, 
 
 And his heart to sad despair j 
 
 And grief and tears w ere her mother's lot 
 
 For a mother's tender care. 
 
 l8 
 
 I 
 
 I 
 
 61. 
 
 4 
 
 );>', 
 I 
 
 ji:'i 
 
138 
 
 SERENADE. 
 
 8he fled from lioiiie and every plcasiiro 
 When the bold seducer came ; 
 
 She never thought how rich a treasure 
 Is a maiden's sjootless name. 
 
 She httle recked how parents languish, 
 When a wayward child departs ; 
 
 How grief and sorrow, pain and anguish. 
 Break at length the fondest hearts. 
 
 And now she lives a thing degraded, 
 
 Lost to every social tie, 
 A flowrcc still, though wrecked and faded, 
 
 Doomed to linger, pine, and die. 
 
 SERENADE. 
 
 Awake, oh wake! the moon is beaming 
 Brightly on each rosy flower, 
 
SERENADE. 
 
 139 
 
 Tliougli .solt thy .<lec'p and sweet thy dreaiuing. 
 
 Comic love to yonder bower. 
 The (jueen of night, witli silvery light, 
 Will guide thy steps to me. Oh ! wake dear Rosalie. 
 
 Awake, oli wake ! from skunljer stealing, 
 
 Share this placid hour with nie, 
 A heart thtit beats with tenderest feeling, 
 
 I'll give dearest maid to thee. 
 T]u3 queen of niglit, with silvery light. 
 Will guide thy steps to me, oh! wake dear Rosalie, 
 
 Oh, come ! from night's dull bosom waking. 
 
 Soon will rise the lord of day ; 
 Now is the hour that rest forsaking, 
 
 Lovers give their hearts away. 
 The queen of night, with silvery light. 
 Will guide thy steps to me, oh ! come dear Rosalie. 
 
 
 ■M 
 
110 
 SERENADE. 
 
 Wake Leila, wake, the stilly ni^ht 
 
 Invites thee from repose, 
 The zephyrs in the moon-beam's light, 
 
 Now sleep on every rose. 
 Leila, awake, and come to me. 
 
 Wake, Leila, wake, in yonder bower. 
 
 Beneath the Acacia tree. 
 Thy lover waits at this soft hour, 
 
 To breathe his vows to thee. 
 Leila, awake, and come to me. 
 
 Wake, Leila, wake, to thy fond youth 
 In beauty's charms appear, 
 
 His tale of love, and hope, and truth, 
 Thou'lt never blush to hear. 
 
 Leila,, awake, and come to me. 
 
in 
 
 TO AN INTIMATE FRIEND, 
 
 ON HIS DETARTUr. E FOR ENGLAND. 
 
 Farewell, my dear friend, since the sail is un- 
 furled 
 That ])cars thee a^yay to thine own native world, 
 May the soft winds of heaven smoothly blow o'er 
 
 the wave. 
 And waft thee in peace to the land of the brave. 
 May pleasure each day on thy footsteps attend. 
 Each morning of life in contentment descend 5 
 May sorrow, whose tears in an orb such as this 
 Too often are mixed with our goblets of bliss, 
 Ne'er cloud thy bright ' )pes with her dark gloomy 
 
 shade, 
 Nor misfortune thy heart's dearest wishes invade ; 
 Then as round thee the full tide of happiness flows. 
 Thy home mid enjoyment, thy heai't mid repose. 
 
112 
 
 TO AN INTIMATK FillKNl). 
 
 Thy partner beside thee to share in thy joy, 
 No grief to distress, and no care to annoy ; 
 Thy dear little children reclined on each knee, 
 Whose sweet lisping prattle endears them to thee ; 
 Should memory revert to this far distant scene, 
 Where ocean's broad waves roll their terrors be- 
 tween, 
 Should remembrance exciting a soft tender tear. 
 That, falling, might say would that Goldie were 
 
 here ; 
 Oh ! breathe but a sigh for my welfare and fame, 
 And cherish the thought that awakens my name ; 
 That sigh and that thought long will pleasure im- 
 part. 
 And, like witchery's spell, fondly cling round my 
 heart. 
 
143 
 
 ICC, 
 
 o thee ; 
 enc, 
 ors bc- 
 
 tear, 
 le were 
 
 fame, 
 name J 
 lire iiu- 
 
 Lind iiij 
 
 TO MY BROTHER HENRY, 
 
 ON new-yeak's day. 
 
 Wlien all thy friends on this auspicious day 
 With smiles of truth and love their hopes conveyj 
 While every voice some pleasing wish bestows, 
 Contentment, health, enjoyment, or repose. 
 Lot me, like them, this happy morn, impart 
 The warmest feelings of a brother's heart. 
 
 Oh, may Religion, with persuasive power, 
 Shed her mild influence o'er each trying hour, 
 In life's sad scenes support thy sinking soul, 
 Thy sorrows soften, and each grief control. 
 Her favoured gifts may gentle peace bestow. 
 Around thy dwelling may her blessings flow. 
 Around thy bed may guardian saints attend. 
 In peril succour, and in fear defend. 
 
141 
 
 TO MY n ROT If F. 11 HE'.NUV. 
 
 Tlion al that hour when otlier worlds in view, 
 Stem (Icatli (IchuiirIs to thi.s yoii hi<l adieu. 
 With faith imshakcMi may you meet your <loon), 
 And sink iu ercntiest slumbers to the tond). 
 And while no thoughts at life'i^ last dying close, 
 With pangs of doubt thy l)0.som discompose, 
 Nor hopes presumptuous of a hap})icr state, 
 With daring confidence thy breast elate, 
 On wings triumphant may your spirit rise, 
 To mix with saints in bliss be vend the skies. 
 
 THE END. 
 
Ill view, 
 
 lieu, 
 
 our (loom, 
 
 iiiil). 
 
 ing close, 
 
 state, 
 ite, 
 rise, 
 B skies. 
 
 -';. 
 
 
 '1 
 
 
 p^^-^^'^W 
 
 
 ...1''