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FAl TO THE FALLEN HEROES OF MY BELOVED COUNTRY THIS BOOK IS RESPECTFULLY AND REVERENTLY DEDICATED BY THE AUTHOR. offerii fie, the ; )mposit Ipublieal he ha? ;" in ( le of tt les of mi |n his as] of intej jU the F [(which, I inaugurj ^he list aggrt ssl coiuman |ali J leade fti followe ^he aspers INTKODLJCTION. offering the following work for the approbation of the 10, the author thinks proper to give a short history of imposition and the causes which led to its preparation [publication. Since quite an early period of his exist- he has felt what some author calls « an itch for scrib- ;" in other words, has been quite a devotee at the le of the Muses, until the more severe studies and fes of manhood demanded his attention and eneroies In his aspirations after poetic faaie yielded to the stc^rncr H of mterest and necessity. When the unholy crusade 5h the Federal States are now waging against his coun- (which, he believes, to be the best country on earth ) inaugurated, he thought it his duty to enrol himself he list of the defenders of that country again>t Fed- aggnssion. Accordingly, he connected himself with command of General John H. Morgan, the celebrated airy leader, whose head and shoulders, with those of his w followers, have been made to bear an uniimUcd share the aspersions and vituperations with which the Federal ▼i INTKODUCTION, press and literature teeu, „g.i„st all portions of tl„ federate ar„,y. After participating i„ the Greater L •"^ <.< being .mmediately incarcerated in a Federal J where he remained until i„ the first n»r J ^, A When he^s„eceeded in .eapt/^S: ^ to eturn directly to the army of his country to 1 ^^:: .loTT''* -^ --Pelied to com'; to C UaM, g nothing to engage his attention here, his mindl % vvo t upon the wrongs inflicted up^n tLTco u h.sU.„ghts took shape in the chief poeLo son.r u Ti .-• , ° pieces, with the except on J scribe my ininrcssinns nf i;c„ i '^ ' 'H aa-i accuracv Tl , '' "™"'' ^"'' "•""'f«| accuracy. 1 hough the parties are cloaked INTRODUCTION. 1 portions of tb( in the greater j. in, from the time h was t!ie 4th ( last July, he hi Federal soldit 3, in the State of] 2d in a Federal n >art of Novembej efrom. Being . 1 country, to elui to come to Ca n here, his mindj 1 upon that coi ' chief poem ol the exception J such as I havej the writings dispraise the r( Id be consider in an affectatii lious and disgul lat, as fur as I )n2;er pi-ce, tc 3 with truthful tre cloaked Til led names, some of the occurrences will be readily- nzed by those who are acquamted with the history of Itnfe m the immediate neighborhood where I live, ^ I flatter myself that the heart and memory of every ickian will give a ready echo to all I have thereir» ith reference to my beloved State. I do not ask for lage through charity j for T feel that it would be le.% iable to raise, in a young author, hopes which were led to be disappointed than to look generously into the is of his publication, and by this standard let them ^r fall. With these remarks, I subscribe myself Your humble and obedient servant, THE AUTHOR. [wak( No, ias! Can lefits But lall t( This And fost g] Thou And] WILLIAM Ax\D ANNIE. A TALE OF LOVE AND WAR. wake, my harp, thy long neglected strain, No school-boy's fancies wait upon thee now; las I I know no tones but those of pain Can wake thy chords, and that no laurel bough efits thy wreath, or that upon my brow ; But tender cypress, falling sadly free, ' iall tell, oh, my mrch sadder country, how This heart in quenchless sorrow yearns for thee. And groans beneath the wees which o'er thy chil- dren be. rost glorious Southern land, of thee I 8in<^ Thou art the clime of chivalry and song"' '^here virtue blooms in one eternal s; ring,' And beauty, with her chains swp^f f..;.\.^j .*„_ 10 WILLIAM AND AVNIE. Fetters the heart «„d senses fast and Ion.. To thee the soul's best tributes, rieh./due, Shall ever haste in an increasing thron/ WhU«t birds shall sing, or eloudlesstkies be To cheer thy brave and generous sons, thy ters true. ^ I i K>nd plent,, smiling .„ b,^ y„ „„^ Ha«. granted all the goods that man reqairej R.ch hang-ng fruits, and fields of waving grai 1 Neat comfortable homes, and glancing s'i. But tyrants, urged on by their foul desires!^ Have sworn destruction ,o this lovely land And gloat, until their reeking fancy tires, ' O er a„ the ills which ruthless sword a:d bra, Can bnng a people lifted in a villain's hand. But. thanks to Heaven, her sons, noble as braveLere Know not to turn the back on friend or foe C Or g.ve dishonor refuge but the grave t ' And these have sworn, the oppressor'soon shaIlC„^ 1....L AVNIB. fast and long. 5utos, richly due, i»g throng, cloudless skies be enerous sous, thy ^ill and plain, that man requirej of waving grainj J glancing spires foul desires, lis lovely land, ancy tires, 8 sword and brai I villain's hand. A TALK OP LOVB AND WAR. 11 freeman's arm can deal a weighty blow, And all her strength, from youth to hoIr> age ath rushed to where the crimson tide shall flow As It hath flown, till history's startled pa ^hall shrink to show the fury of a freeman's rage S )f one of these I sing the noble deeds. And those of her who sent him to the strife hth prayers which shield him whilst his comrade bleeds. And bid him part with honor but with life. Ms hard to lose a lover ; but a wife Alone, the deepest stroke of woe can feel. Vhen Fortune, with her keen relentless knife Removes the father of her babe, the heartless steel Inflicts a wound no mortal cure can ever heal. ; ;rd?rfe?^^^^ ''- ^"^'^ '-'''' -' p-^- --m grave I '°''°*^^^ "' ^^' ^'""^«« ^^ ^ ^'^^^> ■essorLn 1, 1,1 ' ^'^^ '*' '^^"°'"^' "^^"^^^ of silvery sheen, essorsoon sha]l|iurmnr« hy n}[(r. .f An- - „jr .„.,i„^ ^r j^iuy ana fields of green, i'ii . 1:2 WILLIAll AND ANNIB. ■ 1 Oft m the silent eve my thoughts will roam As memory wakes the jnya I feJt at home. ' There flowers bloom fairest, and the birds .re There floeks sport freely i„ the genial air • There younglings of those flocks skip light and And roses eling around those cliffs of »rey There childhood laughs and shouts wi.h hot glee ; There mirth spreads broadly as a shoreless sea • There youth are manly, honest, handsome, brave No other wealth than as they have they crave. ^ They walk God's footstool with an upright tread And vzew not tyrants with a thought of dread. There maidens, beauteous as the blush of morn rhe,r minds and hearts with virtuous thoughts Coy, hard to win, yet knowing well to bless With sweet confiding look and fond caress- S'mple, yet cu„„i„g_t,,,ti„g and yet shy- W«h arts to please ,i,e heart and charm the eye ^o„ but by honest d.eds, they have at will OJanoes to heal the he„rt_the same to kill • fNIE. jhts will roam, eJt at home. »d the birds are fa ' genial air ; ks skip light and liffs of grey. shouts with bo A TALK OP LOVH AND WAR. 13 a shoreless sea ; handsome, brav( ive they crave, an upright trea ought of dread. 5 blush of morn tuous thoughts ^ell to bless )nd caress — nd yet shy — I charm the ey lave at will me to kill ; orn,s made complete, and features to »uT,rise rows fa,r, cheeks rosy, bean,i„g, .„„„y ' r y' '*""?«"?• Oh f what realms of bliss here l.e encompassed in one rapturous kiss I r ^"""^ »'■ «'*^* ^'"i »■> -ho would not face |o gam the heaven of one warm embrace ? .St such an one our charming Annie seemed. Z, " ""''^ """ ^'"> "rtues teemed, h.lBt those dark lustrous eyes some angel lent charm us with their looks of sweet c,:.tent' earned softly, sweetly, gent!y all the while ' eer taught to frown, but always prone to 'smile Whilst those soft lashes, drooping long and low ' [eneath a forehead purer than the snow ^nred, as the trees along some desert stream h ^""^ "' f"™ «•« orb's too dazzling beam'. W. thai forehead, rising fair and true Bplays its fairy net work, veined with blue ,'"' "^^ brows, just bended as th. bow ' hen Cupid studies on a deadly blow • t I 14 WILLIAM AND ANNtB. I !l I And soft hair, drooping like the raven's flight, The alabaster girds with hues of night. Beneath, a nose of peerless Grecian mould .Displays its form, not shrinking, yet not bold. In the soft cheeks, with slightest tints of browi Mingle the rose's hue and peach's down- Framed as a bow from which a shaft just flew, Her lips, bedewed with deep carnation hue. Tempted, yet warned aloof the unholy mind. To lust forbidding, to affection kind. Love just could trace a new-born dimple in That tiny, warm, and neatly-rounded chin, Supported on a neck whose gentle curve Descended, with a soft luxurious swerve, To charms within those flowing robes concealed] No painter's cloth or sculptor's bust hath e'er re Thus fair efface, and faultless in her form- Each motion grace, each attitude a charm, Kind Fortune, often in Her gifts called blind, To charms of persot^ added charms of mind. I ! , i ,■ A TALB OF LOVE AND WAR. h each perfection, beaming from her faoe fas therein answered by au equal grace. ' p.ch over all its kindling radiance threw bd hxed the homage which her presence drew feet, gentle, unassuming, kind ^thoughts of her own excellence most blind ^t viewing, with appreciation keen, [hat virtues could in other maids be seen f "f;!^ ^:''' "■« d^^P Md piercing smaA frrself had sent to many a noble heart; f »""Ple, trustful, glided on through life [arless and heedless of its thronging strife. w flitted thus, until a youth there came , , ^""" "« "«"-"»« field of college fame- wart and tall, with straight and upright form ^^P as firm as cliffs which brave the sLm f """f' '" =P°'* ">« fo«»t kings around. r »^ «'»=»'« M the tiger's bound.. r ^'*P «'«"»". and this lofty mien, "it hi, noble brow and glanoss keen, 16 16 li' Ml ( • ! I WILLIAM AND ANNIR. Which mark the man against oppression bent- Quick to forgive, yet quicker to resent. His lofty forehead, and his reverent bust, Bespeak a man to man in all things justl One that to Heaven bends a willing knee, And bows, great God, to thee, and only thee; Whilst yet there slumbers in his eyes of fire ' A world of love, a smouldering heap of ire And William bears within his manly chesfe ' As warm a heart as beats in human breast. Now fresh from intellectual feasts he came His heart subdued by no impulsive flame, ' But loving every human being as a man ' And part of God's inexplicable plan, ' • He followed Nature in her every phaze And drank delight at each enraptured gaze. But one thing wanted. He had never felt That power which even the stoniest heart will Man may exult in deeds of strength and powei And gam renown in his triumphal hour, A TALK OF LOVH AND WAR. IT It knows not happiness till he shall feel ^e piercing stroke of Cupid's barbed steel. IS true, Love makes his warmest, coziest nest ^ gentle woman's pure confiding breast, id rests so sweetly and so kindly therj, [ seems a spirit from the upper air, lat gazes through her soft and swimming eyes fith looks of startled joy and sweet surprise ; Jhilst some, who bear the form and face of men f s powers defy and all his joys contemn ; ■^t, when a great heart, noble, proud and free struck, *tis as the whirlwind strikes the tree' reels and trembles, and, with one wild bound ^lls, pride and all commingled, to the ground, ' r as the ship when struck with crowded sail,' lelds to the tempest and outrides the gale. lus William felt, when 5rst their glances met lixed starts of joy, wild acg ish and regret-' h that he met her-anguish lest they part- fegret at what he deemed a wasted hearts 1 j ; ' ji hi ii j II ' ! I . ! 18 WllLrAlf A»D ANHtB. Keen anguish, deep regret, but man or boy Heed not the Jiko when swallowed up in joy.l He had been courted ; for his brilliant mind Made parents grow indulgent, daughters kinc Favors were plenteous. Every way he turm Some tender heart for his approval burned. To all most courteous, gentle and polite, His generous heart glowed with its own franl And shed its genial warmth, nor felt till now When gazing on that pure and peerless brow So calm, so spotless, and so free from strife, The aU in all, the precious end of life. Where soul gees forth to wed itself with soul A blissful half of a more blissful whole. Not all the dreams of all the rhyming tribe, If all commingled, could in part describe His lively features' full entrancing glow Now all alive with joy-now dashed with wc As his quick glances, following her form, Noting her every grace, her every charm', »D ANNtB. A TALK OF lOVB AND VTAft. 18 >t, but man or boy wallowed up in joy. r bis brilliant mind gent, daughters kin Svery way he turn approval burned, tie and polite, I with its own fran h, nor felt till now and peerless brow, ) free from strife, end of life, ed itself with souI| asful whole. ik rapture as alone that man will drink reels half-famished to the fountain's brink. m she first met that gaze, this page would blush lid I attempt to paint the sudden flush roseate tints, whose all-suffusing glow o'er that bosom and that throat of snow, even tiU that brow and those kind eyes eed in one hue of sweet and glad surprise. 3 rhyming tribe, part describe anoing glow, dashed with w( ig her form, Jvery charm, gained an introduction; but apart ^m this he knew her. Heart had talked with heart, ere that festal eve had passed away, ugh there had met the gayest of the'gay Itread the lively measures of the dance, jd friendship's cordial grasp and lover's glance ^ugh hearts were glad, and pleasure's smiling queen • all presided with a brow serene, [t words were breathed, and peals' of laughter light te sUver chimes, rang forth upon the night, jilst music, with its cadence soft and long, ' [wed dreamily or gushed in sudden song, ' I ! :! I ' liil i I ' ■■ I ' 'ill! I ii I i !'i I 'ii i ! I 20 WILLIAM AND ASSiB. No hearts than thefrs more felt the deep cont. Of sweet ezeftement Wending soul with soufj The.r rapturous feelings searoely seemed of e-, Too ful for pleasure, and too deep for mirthl All that they knew, or longed to know, was tf. The.r every moment was an age of bliss. * When all is joy. the harshest blast will bring f ' rhe tempered breath of flower-breathing spri,*'' And all our moments speed as swiftly by f ""« '«d bolt whieh lights the elouded sky I A moment flits upon the dark expanse, ' Thendi r,„,,^„^„^^^^^^_^^ M.d tender partings-meetmgs dear and swe The.r Ume flew on thus brilliant and thus fl« Until It brought upon ft's sunny way The blest a. rival of their wedd-mg day. ■i he hurry of the preparation past J- he eve begins to darken now at last, The ehandeliers are lighted in the halls And showers of radiance gild the snow-while _L,, re felt the deep cont ^'^ing soul with souf. scarcely seemed of e too deep for mirth. >ged to kno«r, was t an age of bliss. A TALE OF LO\'B AND WAR, n est blast will bring )wer-breathing eprii 1 as swiftly by ts the clouded sky, irk expanse, B a second glance, tings dear and sw( lliant and thus flee unny way edding; day. ►n past, w at last, n the halls, [ the snow-white ilst from tlie forest trees which grace the yard colored lanthorn's glow upon the sward, teach the eye by faint attempts to trace gravel walks, which wind with easy grace many tnolls of green and many a flower,, many cosy seats and many a bower, lere love shall utter many a burning' word, *h as affection cherishes when heard, half so deepiy or with joy so bright, ^e spoken by the lanthom's dreamy light. - servants ranged around both stile and gate lerry mood of expectation wait l>«gg7, carriage, coach, or prantjing steed, offer ebon hands with eager greed groom the beasts, and greet with shouts of glee Id rows of ivory teeth the silver fee. thickl> thronging had heen gathered there- juth bold amJ gallant, maidens fresh and fair, Sndfathers grey and father5 stout and hale, ' - smiling dames and grandames aged and pal ! I I I U'n witiiiM Am AKiire. All mot to mingle in the round of joy A nd drink their (ill of bliss without alloy. Then there appeared the holy man of God Sent to remind of Hearen's avenging rod,' Vet prone to make the trembling culprit feel , The band which wounds hath also power to J With brow serene and forehead calm and higl Whilst from thai uiild, benevolent, kind eye! , There glows a kindling spark of heavenly fire To dry the fountain of each foul desire And the bright sUver of those locks of Ly Seemed the first dawn of the Eternal Day. They stood before him. William grave and Yet full of joy, as if a gentle balm From heaven had shed it's dew upon his soul To make it's every sore and wounding whole' She, gentle, trusting, leaned upon that arm •• oof' had been pledged to shield her life fro, '" b veet, so p.ire, and so intensely fair, I i^o^Je in that presence could breathe aug'ht but rD ANNIF. A TALB OF LOTK AND WAR. 2a round of joj, 38 without alloy. lolj man of God, 's avenging rod, nbling culprit feel ath also power to hi ^ead calm and hig evolent, kind eye, •k of heavenly fire I foul desire^ 3se locks of grey e Eternal Day. prayer Tas breathed, and they were roan and wife, )irn^b good aud ill to journey on througli life. Came the cordial grasp, the friendly kiss, wish expressed for unmixed years of blisi. sure ran riot. Joy, with zone unbound, ttered her smiles and favors all around, clothed himself in youth's most sportive wiles, all his wrinkles overflowed with smiles, lilst youth, gay, frolicsome and wanton boj, * ilted as if he were drunk with joy. illiam n ave and 3 balm ew upon his sourj wounding whole upon that arm hield her life froi nsely fair, reathe aught but! n rang the laugh, and flew the ready jest, (11 comprehended, though but half expressed, Id the smart saying from the witling's hoide, Ipressly garrored for that festive board, lere, heaped in picturesque confusion, lie |ch fruit which grows beneath the changing sky, ich palatable meat, game, fowl, or fish, lb root or herb that yields a savory dish, e tempting juices of the tree and cane, jth cakes compounded ot each pleasant graio.-^ ii u WIILUM iKD ASNIB. iii^ ! iM All hose sweet products of the housewife', art f"'"""»">g'^«>' to the convivW heart- And over ready to adorn the whole The rich decanter and the sparkling bowl, Tte gay confections with the pleasant rhiu,e To youth exquisite, and the heap subline "* ft'osty network, floweiy and fair like an enchanted temple raised in air That makes h,s pillow of that wedding cake ? The supper ended, pleasure spurns control. The charmmg ,ete-a-tete, the pleasant stroll, The soft words whispered in the willing ear None but affection', self should ever hL. ' | The looks exchanged which those alone can read i he gentle pressure of the thrilling hand '^ave those who feel nnn« i ' A II tu ' ^''* "="" nnderstand- Ali these were there •>>.,». .> ' J „„. ' "®° '""^^e must end • Aiover must part with r,^„«, * • j .. '' ^ wun lover, fnend w th friend ■ A TALE OF LOVE AND WAR 25 Bt though this joy hath ending, and the heart ust ^ieve o'er friends, and lovers forced to part Jarch where you will, earth has no spot more bright han a Kentucky farmer's on a wedding night. h muse undaunted strove to truly trace Ws first beginning and its onward pace— jood at the marriage feast and saw them wed, It shrinks abashed before the bridal bed. le bard may dip his pen in every hue [hich spans yon heaven's boundless depths of blue pen on iis columns broad, and rich, and high bd's dazzling bow climbs o'er the summer sky,' |nd fix them on his page in forms more fair lan those they wore suspended in the air; It never e'en with faint success has tried ' Fwt the moment when a blushing bride, hid yet trusting, yields her wealth of charms |to the kind embraces of a husband's arms. Ue sped away. Kind heaven gently smiled, ^d sweet enjoyment all their hours beguiled.' Ill; 26 ! ii'i' I i 1 III) WILLIAM AND ANNIK. Business or pleasure, still it was the same, Each heart glowed in one warm and mutual M Each moment flew on charmed wings away ; The year was spring— each month was flowery Spring brings its wealth of bloom. May hath its Love, too, hath blossoms in this world of ours, And their love blossomed with a richer bloom Than the bright rose, whose exquisite perfumej The bearded Moslem thinks, was kindly given As a rich foretase of the joys of Heaven. With lips cherubic, bright angelic smile, Bound tiny form, and mmy an infant wile. That blossom lay upon her snowy breast, So fondly and so tenderly caressed, One well might say, that India's fairest bower Hath not so rich a plant or sweet a flower. The heart hath many founts, love many streai But none more softly or more brightly gleams In earth beneath, or scarce in heaven above, Than the pure fountai i of a mother's lov«. ANNIH. A TALE OF LOVB AND WAR. 2t was the same, irm and mutual Saj ed wings away ; nonth was flowery 3om, May hath its his world of ours, bh a richer bloom exquisite perfume was kindly given I of Heaven. gelic smile, an infant wile^ owy breast, essed, :a's fairest bower Noet a flower. love many streai brightly gleams] heaven above, lother's lov«. je best and warmest friends oftimes will fail, id love itself will prove an idle tale ; it death's dread bolt itself can never part 3r offspring from the yearning mother's heart, [folds them gently as with angel's wings, id as woe darkens still more closely clings. us Annie to her bosom fondly strained T nursling with a love which almost pained, through her pulses shot the wildest thrill passion which no earthly power can kill ; id' William, gladly kneeling by her side, is face all tenderness, all joy, all pride, h full heart, lacking words his lot to bless, erflowed in burning kiss and soft caress, hilst oft the while each soft and swimming eye le other's met with looks of wondrous joy. I could we chain a single hour like this id always revel in it's store of bliss, path would have it's thorns, no brow it's care ; it earth woi^ld blossom so completely fair. ^ 1 • * ^^^^^H ■ i ^^^^^^^^^^H ^^^^^H ^^^^^^B ^■^^^1 ^^^^H i ' . i : 1 1 • 1 ■ i! i i ^ i. 1 1 1 J 1 ■■if 1 !' nil 'n ! i ^^^Hf ;i ■ r ! i ■ ■ ^B^.Lilil III ' 28 WfLLUM AND ANNIE, No wretch would seek to break his mortal bone Or leave this earth to seek a heaven beyond, me But no. The rainbow's dazzling hues will fadle liife's fairest flowers most quickly are decajed^lh And circumstances unexpected rise Id To rudely rend affection's fondest ties. Bk A Northern mob, by envy urged along, I ^ Deeming themselves less numerous than etrong,!' Though numbering as the sands beneath the slu Now sunk to slaves, though children of the frel ii Have forged themselves a yoke, and meanly knls ^ To place their necks beneath a tyrant's heel, Isr And swear that all who walk Columbia's shore |eai Shall kiss the rod and freemen be no more. But the bold Southron, from his sunny home. Undaunted looks upon the gathering gloom, ' Determined, if his country's weal shall need The shedding of his blood, to nobly bleed, Or if his treasure must be lavished, he Will be as generous as aught dare to be. £ TALK OF LOYB AKD WAR. 29 foF the clouds which hang around his way, |e griefs which throng, but knowing not dismay. le storm-cloud gathers, and the thickenmg strife Ills on the patriot for his stake of life, |id only cowards shrink to seek the field lere glory waits for all save those who yield, wish to find a sweeter dying bed Ian that where sleep their country's honored dead; [Heaven vouchsafes t& man a sacred cause in accordance with her own just laws, ^s when a freeman draws the shining steel smite the tyrant for his country's weal, lears that for her shall gleam each deadly blow. Id sheathes it not save in that country's foe. [d if there be a traitor, worse than all, 3t it be he who brought the cup of gall our blest Savtor on the accursed tree, a base treacherous kiss, then it is he 10 at the bloody tyrant's dark command, pts-his false arm against his native land. 30 WILLIAM AND ANNIE. !i t Cursed be that traitor — palsied be that arm, That aims upon his country aught of harm. If I were made his judge, though hell were crs The paltry villain should be doubly damned. Thus William felt, that whether live or fall, His duty followed to his country's call. A father finds it hard to leave his child. With it's sweet prattling tongue and accents It's bright and rosy cheeks and smiling eyes, It's startled looks of wonder and surprise, And the rich nectar wbich he fondly sips ^rom the unfailing fountain of it's lips; But harder still it is to leave that wife Who for his sake hath yielded all in life, Contented with his love, though all should fail I Save hcj her journey through life's gloomy valel Deep are his sorrows— deep astnan can know- But woman finds a stormier depth of woe. ^0 mortal power can give the least relief To the wild anguish of a mother's grief, : ) lnnib. i TAfcB Of LOVE AMD WAR. 31 led be that arm, aught of harm, ough hell were era doubly damned. her iive or fall, itrj's call, e his child, ^e and accents id smiling eyes, md surprise, I fondly sips )f it's lips; that wife cl all in life, gh all should fail I life's gloomy valel 3«ian can know- epth of woe. least relief ler's grief, . ^ho sees her infant's father torn away, brchance to fall in battle or affray, lid hurtling death-shots, shrieks, and dying groans, id yells and curses, sobs and piercing moans, else to linger fearfully and long |ith vacant eye, hot cheek and parching tongue, id forehead dry and glowing like a brand, pthout the presence of one soothing hand, tath any time were dreadful ; but oh ! now pth none to wipe the death-damp from the brow I le felt it all, and often in her sleep irk fearful visions through her brain would creep, id oft she saw in dreams of dark despair 5d, gory streai^ . amid that waving hair, id on that brow, which she had loved to press ith tender kiss and cherishing caress, I deep bright death-spot with it's crimson hue ^ntrasting with a face of livid blue, id wildly starting from her fitful rest, le strained her infant to an anguished breast. »2 WILLIAM AND ANMIB. The battle-field hath heaps of graveless dead, Stark, pale and mangled on their gory bed, Their glazed eyes staring with a stony gaze, Unconscious all alike of blame or praise; Their brows cold, stern, and llanched, as fixec In the last look of an undying hate, And rigid hands clenched in a vengeful grasp As if the foe were in their icy clasp. (i ! I There wounded men are parched with quenchlJ Till shrieks and sobs and moans will wildly bu And the most stony heart is sadly wrung By the few accents of the trembling tongue, Which gives with the last pulse of ebbing lif^ The tender message for the widowed wife ; Or by the hardened wretch's anguished groan J Who shriiks in terror from the dark unknowif Whilst the poor wounded steed maddened by| Tramples his master on the slippery plain, As stung to agony each plunging blow Scatters alike the brains of friend and foe. ii i A TALK OF LOVl AND WAR. 33 lere povertj and pomp together steep, Irgotten sorrows in eternal sleep, Y rank's gay tinsel marks the wreck of life long the debris of the ruthless strife. Ithere a being in the form of man 10 can unmoved the sickening aspect scan, who, to gain himself a lordly placft, scourge with slaughter thus the human race ? p not a man. No creature's name will suit caU the thing, 'Twould scandalize a brute. these doth William weep ; but not a tear sigh hath he to give to thoughts of fear, |d tach such moving sight but nerved his heart bear in future strife a sterner part Id teach the tyrant's self to keenly feel |e gaudiest plume invites the surest steel ; ' knowing not his fate gives them to know |e brave man strikes not a defenceless foe. ad, merciful, and ever apt to wield arm to ward a stroke from those who yield, o 34 WILLIAM AKD ANNTD. IHl! He rode unmoved where danger's fearful swaJ At one fell blaze whole columns swept away, Yet mark his dark eyes' gleam, his bosom'a s\ As bis brave comrades, with a deafening yell, Heedless of glancing steel or leaden rain, Charge where he leads across the reeking plaiJ Till panic-stricken by the fearful sound, The foe in trembling terror yields the groundl He that hath stemmed the wildly rushing tidj Will feel his chest expand with manly pride ; The miser's eye emits a dazzling gleam When realizing fancy's fondest dream. Great heaps ot jewels, gleaming like a sword, Contribute to adorn his shining horde ; The lark rejoices when it's tender wing First learns to soar and it's young voice to sil But naught can match the pulse's maddening When in the thickest of the wavering fray, The crested sr^aadron, from some woodland'sl the Leaps forth upon it's fierce resistless charge, lams D ANHfa. 1 TAH Olf LOVE AKD WAR. 35 len comes the gleam of steel, the ringing shout . stunning clash, the halt, the wheel about, e s«oond clash-then sounds o'or all the cheer I victory rolling on the startled air. r """^'^"^ •'«"'« whole years of sluggish blis.- ^ hero only craves one hour like this I soldier-s life, though hardships stalk between, th still It's merry hour, it's joyous scene. »n tU march, with grief nor care oppressed W nngs the laugh, quick flies the ready jest Searching near and far the thirsting eye •nks in the changing hues of earth and sky, gloomy forests and the waving grain, towering mountain and the stretching plain humble cottage, the imposing dome house of God, the farmer's tidy home _v.llage rnarked by day with gleaming 'spires, , »ght by the bright i^low of cheerful lircs the mind wandering from what things we see, »•»« of what ha, been and of what s/u^l be 36 WILLIAM AND ANNltf. i|; . I 'Tie sweet at evening's balmy hour to feel Thoughts of forgotten joys around us steal, Till memory from her enchanted store Surround us with the dearest dreams of yore. Then will the sternest brow unbend a while And the most haggard face will yield a smile, Pale sorrow will discard her load of care, And Hope will gild the features of despair. 'Tis then imagination's halo bright Sheds o'er the future it's unclouded light, Wakes the dull visions from their slumbers cc And points a pathway paved with stones of gc Oh ! often thus, when, day's routine complete, The toil-worn soldier rests his weary feet, He seats himself beside some limpid stream, And smiles at hopes with which his fancies te Or with his comrades round the cheerful blazj Again performs the feats of other days, And his eyes glisten as his lips will tell How this one bravely fought, that bravely felll lillllJilHii ANNltf. A TALK OF LOVB AND WAR. 37 ny hour to feel around us steal, anted store «t dreams of yore, unbend a while, will yield a smile, • load of care, iures of despair. ► bright iclouded light, L their slumbers co 1 with stones of go routine complete, is weary feet, J limpid stream, lich his fancies t( the cheerful blazj other days, [ps will tell i, that bravely fell! m partial beauty smiled upon his band. Id the white 'kerchief waved from whiier hand ^ ms hours unnoted swiftly glide along pd tales and laugh and jest and social song. ^)8t various the themes of song and story, r "^^ *^«y *ell of love, now sing of glory Jtil the cheek's full flush, the bosom's swell, ttest the power of music's magic spell. Is wonted silence William seldom broke, Jd then but of his country's wrongs he'spoke d when to song he once was sorely pressed, ' ^ese thrilling words gushed from his heaving breast: THE SONQ OF MORGAN'S LEGION. "Boom, boom. Hear ye the deafening crash, As our brave and fearless band Chase, with a wild hurrah and dash, The Yankees through the land ? The vaulting saddle IS our home, Our chamber the welkin wide, 38 WILLIAM AND ANNIE. And where'er dangers darkest roam, There we are bound to ride. " For liberty or death we fight, And woe to those who dare To wake our carbines' flashing light, And wait the deadly glare. Our home beneath the tyrant's hoof Groaneth in direst pain ; But let his minions stand alool When we shall come again. '* Our chieftain, brave as desert king, Roameth where'er he will, And we but wait his clarion's ring To bound o'er vale and hill. Our guerdon is the Mr ones' smiles. Which shine along our way, And we for them despise the toils Which face us night and day. *' To horse !— -To horse ! The bugle's call, luviteth to the field, LNNIE. arkest roam, ride. fight, ) dare' ashing h'ght, »lare. grant's hoof n; 1 alool gain. esert king, nil, ion's ring hill, nes' smiloB, way, the toils d day. ^he bugle's cal! A TALB OP LOVB AND WAR. 39 And we must meet both shell and ball, Or to the tyrant yield. Hark ! Hear ye not the ringing shout Of those who kMI be free ? Our glory is the Yankees' rout, Our watchword Victory I'* 3ir swelliDg hearts kept measure as he sang, ' when he finished, deafening plaudits rang', oft they begged him to begin again, burst these words of mingled joy and pain : THE soldier's FAREWELL. ^lone. Alone. It is a solemn sound, And sad as darkness on the sea, ret at this heart's each wild impulsive bound Alone is echoed back to me. ^hough often dearest friends are forced to part, Though often broken true love's tie, 01 40 WILLIAM AMD ANNIS, .1 ! (< Still as each parting wrings the bursting hes That heart could almost wish to die. Full many are the vows that I have breathe Full many parting words have spoken, Yet as to thee, my heart's hot cauldron seel * Farewell/ I thought that heart had bro| " But time will bring a change. A change^ To wipe away this lingering sadness, A change, as sunshine on the shaded slope, To turn my sorrow into gladness : " For I, perchance, shall see thy face again, Thy smile will drive away my fear, That smile which, chasing for each rising pa Hath made thee more than doubly dear.] Fond man, thy buoyant hopes are nursed in 4 That face will never smile on thee again, That gentle form is crumbling into mould, Those eyes are lustreless, those cheeks are coll A TALB OF LOTB A»D WAR. 41 lose lips are bloodless, and that thrilling hand Ive'i warmest touch no more can understand ; Vat heart which blessed thee with each gentle' breath kth wildly burst— it's throbs are stilled in death. le lacked not friends, and many a tender tongue eathed thoughts of sadness o'er a heart so young, I gentle, sweet, and peerless taught to be Imiliar with life's crushing agony. je knew he did his duty, blamed him not, \r wished him on his name to leave a blot, |ved his bold courage and unflinchin£r stand battle for their common native land |ied hard to smile, though sorrow rent her heart, It sobs would burst, and scalding tears would start, bind the lion with a wisp of grass- stay the whirlwinds as they madly pass- quell the demon in whose time of ire Bids, dwellings, forests, mark his track of fire- pet the asp, then offer to control I© fierce pulsations of an anguished soul. i^tM 'ni!i:i m ji'i I I! i III m-^ !1 m i! ! 1 1 i !■ 1 i i: 'Mi '1 ll |! 1 , i Nii 1 ! j J II li 1. 42 WILLIAM AND ANMIB. Love, anger, grief, all passions, weak or strong, Exult in music and find vent in song, And those who passed that way might often seel That mother rapt in woeful minstrelsy, As lonely bending o'er her darling child, By turns she burst in tears or sadly smiled, And they who heard, in heart were deeply wrui For half in words and half in sobs she sung : THE LULLABY. '' Sleep on my child. No father's voice is near To fill thy infant heart with words of cheer. Sleep on— sleep on ; thy charming tricks and Have now no power to win a father's smiles . '' asleep on — sleep on. I cannot bear to see Those eyes in question pleading turned to me. Sleep on— sleep on. Thy breast is free from ca God shield thee from the woes this bosom bear^ The stream will wear the mountain, and the pla Of constant grief will chase health's bloom awaj A TALB OP LOVB AND WAR. 4$ jat lithe and graceful form grew thin and frail, jat face grew wan, that rosy cheek grew pale, Vinful tremor crept into that voice, bse gentle tones once made each heart rejoice, ' burned consumption's spots, red, fixed and bright, gleamed those mild eyes with it's feverish light. ' foes prevailed sothat no word could come I William to his loved and cherished heme, could the woeful tidings reach him how Base had settled o'er that loved one's brow. in that hour could she but fondly rest fevered temples on that faithful breast, lid that frail form but feel his gentle clasp, It shadowj hand his warm yet tender grasp, could she note the softness of that eye ling with quenchless love— 'twere sweet to die ! I thus were fearful ; yet she sometimes slept, ' friends who to her bed on tiptoe crept, Id mark upon her face a happy smile Wissful visions did her dreams beguile mm 44 WILLIAM AND ANNIB. i '<■ l'\ !!!i liii'' f'ill •I li In Hill !i::!\:^' Whilst joyous jestures seemed to welcome hoi Her faithful wanderer, to no longer roam. Dear Annie, could'st thou but have longer dre And known not that which was, but that whicb| Thy heart had missed it's saddest taste of wc In this dark, dreary vale we tread below. Amid her rapturous dreams a blinding flash, Foul sulphurous fumes, the musket's deafenii All burst upon har senses. She was wild And shrieked by turns for husband and for clj Nor knew of comfort till with failing breath That lovely form grew motionless in death. Murder had been committed. Armed men Who do the tyrant's will, and care not when In the same house an unarmed man had bled] Nor reeked the presence of the dying bed, And she had deemed her William's noble frail Had been the object of the villain's aim, And felt more anguish from a stranger's fall Thau if it was herself received the ball. mil h liiii \ A TAti Ot LOVE AND V AR. 45 |m youth to age our fancied ills we find t worst and most harassing to the mind, lilst ignorance of ills that are, will leave Itent of mind when w have cause to grieve. |ain on, deluded man, nor seek to know dark and dreadful heritage of woe. lessenger there came who told it all, kh more to strike with terror and appal* In my poor grieving muse could ever tell. ! that agonizing tale was told too well. 'st ever, when thy throat was parched with thirst, lil thy tongue and lips in blisters burst, ere the red sun glared forth from brazen skies, groves and streams m bright succession rise ? did'st thou rush thy feverish limbs to lave Ihe luxurious freshness of the wave? j^as sad to find, when famting on the strand, streams were salt, thy groves were hills of sand, b felt thou misery ; but not the gloom Youth whose hopes are blighted in their bloom. 46 William and annie. I ■I'll! If' He shed no drops, and yet the searching few Who passion's burning lines distinctly knew, Griered that he had not power in brine to stcj Those sleepless orbs. It were a joy to weep ; For those who save hi'* h;,^j^gard cheek, fixed ej Those lips compressed, that brow pale, stern Could plainly read that joy had fled and therj Had perched the ruthless vulture of despair. a He never smiled, and seldom spoke. His drJ Of bliss had vanished ; yet a startling gleam Shot from his sunken orbs whon'er there camj News from the battle and it's murderous flamj That generous eye, with kmdness once elate, Knows now alone the withering glance of hatj Cursed tyrant, who for toul and selfish ends, The fiercest foes hast made from worthiest fril Beware ! The best-sped shaft will oft rcboui And strike the man who aimed it to the grouJ Beware ! Thn dagger hid beneath thy vest May find a scabbard in that guilty breast. i »AL1J OF LOVE AlfD WAU. 47 Jhons of those of whom thou could'st have made hnds truer than the best Damascus blade, [worse k curse thy name. Beware. Their thoughts are |an others' threats. A bW is in each curse. • time will come when thou shalt dearly rue countless hosts thy mad ambition slew. |eady now o'er many a reeking plain [o nations weep their myriad heaps of slain ; heavier still thy minions yet shall feel riving force of the descending steel, |re swiftly will th« hurtling death-shots fly, p piercing shrieks shall rend the midnight sky, * tt still unnumbered livid corpses gaze spectral dimness on the moon's cold rays. revel in thy gilded halls nor know I rending anguish of a nation's woe. ^ke up the dance, for music's cadence sweet drown the sound of moumiog in the street. ^ugh heart-strings may be torn, the ready tale victory can still the widow's wail. I , 48 WILLIAU AND ANNIE. Expend thy spoils at wassail and at rout, Those that want bread can learn to do without. And yet beware— If thou wouldst fell a tree, Guard well thy strokes — it may recoil on thee* Now signs of preparation rise in camp, And there is hurrying to and fro — the tramp Of warsteeds, fierce and eager for the fray, And shouts of men more eager far than they. Again the color flushed that blanched cheek — Again those rigid lips, unbent to speak. His ready orders, given calm and clear, Sound like forgotten music to the ear, That long had thirsted for that voice, A smile So long a stranger, wreathed his lips the while;] But crept not to those eyes, whose fierce stem Gleamed with the brilliance of the meteor's bla2 His garments, late neglected, now were gay. As if he decked him for his bridal day. In troth, it was a noble sight to see That form so proud, so manly, and so free. lii r A TALB OP LOVa AND WAR. 49 [is pants of bluish i> rey, his coat the same, '^ith cuffs and collar trimmed with cloth of flame,- [n either breast a row of balls of gold, sash of scarlet doth his loins enfold, ^hose fringe encounters boots above the knee, rhioh spurs embrace bright as the rippling sea. pair of polished pistols weigh his belt, Ind sword so bright its brilliance could be folt, Thilst shades o'er all with fear-inspiring gloom', lis dark sombrero, and black flowing plume, [he boldest that had seen him thus arrayed, Vould pause ere he made trial of that blade. lis men, their chieftain view with looks of pride, for well they know, that where the battle's tide [lows swiftest and most fiercely, none will be Tore fearless or more terrible than he ; Ind well they love to note, amid the storm, fhat calm clear voice, and that undaunted form, Ind each one grips his rein with eager greed, ' fo try the mettle of his prancing steed. t 50 WILLIAM AND ANNIE. Devoted men, ye little dream that night. Where now ye stand, shall bide a fearful sight ! A stranger who with honeyd words had come, Was scarcely missed, before the rolling drum On every side was heard, save where the deep Broad Cumberland rolled by the craggy steep. Treason had done its work. Full well they knoj They soon shall meet an overwhelming foe, Yet he looks close, who in that hopelebs band Can note the tremor of a single hand. Each wordless stood, until their leader spoke, And with these words the deathlike silence brol 'ii!i!!i;: IB Hi " Go, seek the foe, each man who thinks to yiel| You see there is no exit from the field. Who have to live for find it sweet to be. Go, save your lives — mine hath no joy for me. But if aught ask for me, tell them my pride Was, that my friends should say, *A brave mam A TALI OF LOVE AND WAR. 51 ret none went forth ; but each one sternly said, fhey sought with him a common dying bed, ^or wished for music o'er their last repose, lave his bright steel descending on his foes. jtill there was one with children and a wife, for whom his comrades begged him for his life ; jut hot tears started as he shook his head, Ud to their prayers in earnest accents said : JTo tell my offspring none shall have the power, jhat I proved false in danger's sterneP* boui." ' hough still they pressed, and though the tears still came, [e shook his head.—the answor was the same. id there was one, a bright eyed fair haired boy, Jho kcked his fifteenth summer's crown of joy,' lis doting mother's only pride,- We one an elder brother by his side, rho pledged his faith to still her anguish wild, ' bring again to her, her darling child, ad now he begged him by the love he bore, bat mother in the happy days of yore, i , ill \Mt r 'l!i iil !IIH« 111 iiijii: iliii III U.I 1 il il ' I 111 I ill ill III) I ' I iir 52 William and anniji!. To take himself from hopeless strife apart, And not to break that fondling mother's heart. " Nay, brother, T am only weak and young. She needs thee more. Thy frame is hale and sti| But if you stay, my brother, kind and true, I will remain to live or dio with you." Again that brother pleaded, and again. Alas ! alas I he only urged in vain. " 'Tis very sad to think on," William said, ** That things beJoved should find a gory bed ; Bui though we needs must die, surely at least We will not sacrifice a sinless beast. Turn loose the steeds." He spoke, and heartsore Drove their best friends unto their fiercest foes. There be who laugh when I would call a friend, The steed who staunch and faithful to the end, Hath borne me on the march and through the i Where fortune seemed to play at bowls with lifel A TALB OP LOVB AND WAR. 63 Lnd firm and dauntless underneath me stood, ^Mid cannon bursts upon the field of blood, iaugh on, thou heartless dolt, those soldiers free Vould never seek to find a friend in thee. i'ull time for readiness had they. The foe Lpproached as certain of an easy blow, Lnd slowly set his confident array JAs the fell anaconda slimes his prey, jWhilst eager for the hopeless contest stand, [Yon small, but fearless and unflinching band, lut first there came a courier, who proclaimed [•erms fair as unto captives could be named, lAnd order for surrender, and he bore, IContained in writing what he spoke before. The paper William took within his hand, And pressed it to the hilt upon his brand. " Tell him who sent it, that my trusty steel jLongs thus into his heart its way to feel." Then turning to those warriors tried and true, p'he herald said, " Brave men, ye are but few"^ i>^i 84 ill jllllllll!! 'Ill ■ft it WILLIAM AND ANNIB. He spoke no more, but sadden exit made. Each threatening hand upon a hilt was laid, And then, perchance, was heard a muttered curse] Had he remained it might have still been worse. This scene transpired, they had not long to wait, For as the sudden burst of nmothered hate, Or as the towering castle's rumbling fall, When torrents undermine the massive wall, Or when the heaven-capped billows shoreward bo Each other chase with hoarse and deafening soun The foe rushed on them. As the planted rock, That iron-hearted few withstood the shock, And as at the first crash we scarce can know, If rock or wave most staggers at the blow, As each o'er other in succession rise, Just so the mingled combat r^nds the skies. First roll the volleys with their sulphurous strea And then the serried bayonets' bright gleam Advanced, until aloft like lightning played, The swift gyrations of each polished bl.idt\ A TALE OP LOVE AND WAR. 59 |hen swift and swifter yet the blows they pass, p tempered steel was rent like glass; Ind as the combatants more closely pressed, he ground was heaped with many a cloven crest, Lnd the assailants every effort foiled sullen fury from the strife recoiled. he victory was not hs c^fess, or complete. Those furious ranks bu^ii yet more sternly meet, lnd even now full mnny a gaping gash Ittcsts the vigor of that fearful crash, lnd two pale grey-clothed corpses plainly show, rheir strife had been with no defenceless foe. Nmt husband-father lay upon the plain, |urroundGd by a heap of hostile slain. bayonet had thrust him through the heart, ^ust as he cleft the owner's head in part, Lnd sinking low upon that bed of death, Joth yielded up at oncp their hostile breath. |f for one's native land to die is sweet, Iris sweeter when the foe is at onr feet I I jm;. ".iiiii ■i I I ;;i .: lii! ■i^ii"ii iiiil ii!i 56 William and annii!, And as tlie weapon glides from our frail grasp, We hear the music of his dying gasp. That tender boy, whose young and gentle face, Just glowed with every youthful charm and g . Lies stark and cold, on high-heaped corpses laid] Yet has he not released his scarlet blade. Look on that countenance so fresh and fair, Can death have placed its awful signet there? He looks as he had lain him down to sleep, In dreamless peace upon that ghastly heap, And they who see dread lest the spell should bri Fear not. Who sleep like him can .-eldom wak| Again the combat opens. Louder still Kesound the volleys and the war-cry shrill. ' Yield, rebel dogs," the charging phalanx cry. Not whilst a tyr.-.nt breathes," the stern replyj On !~on ! As vultures to the carrion p-ss, That few enfolded in their stern caress, Till closed again they falter in dismay, A« when the jackal claims his loathsome prey. a a A TALI OF LOTB AND WAR. 5T n our frail grasp, borfc was their bait, for, weltered in the dust, |ach second hand, whose sabre was it's trust, |nd most were bleeding- all were faint and weak. ?ain they rush, their hoarded hate to wreak, Ind do a vengeance on that fearful steep for theirs who slumber in a dreamless sleep. jhe lordly tyrant of the desert wood, Vhen once he learns the taste of human blood, Ihough fearful to attack mankind at first, U hunts his pathway with a quenchlesa thirst, b those rough men, with passions wild and fierce, pare on their foes with looks which almost pierce! Ind now they mingle. Many a hand well tried alls weak and nerveless at the owner's side, [nd what was once a bright and manly eye, Mil call the raven from the morrow's sky. till on they came, and still the height rhey gained, fill, save their cherished chief, no soul remained fo lift on high his slaughter-dealing hand, Ind prove the valor of that fated band. 58 WILUAM AMD ANNM. ! ']i' 1 -■ Ji|i 1 i I N'ilH' 1 Tt hath been proved. Where each his decade They lie—an isle of grey amid a sea of blue.* Death shuns who seek him, but will come uncaj To palaces whose courts are triple- walled. Thus William sought him in the thickest strife] Yet through the havoc bore a charmed life, Till now, companionless, he proudly stood As some lone monarch of a fallen w jod, Which grandly lifts on high the only form Of all that forest which could brave the storm. It was a noble sight those saw that day Who swarmed around as wolves about their pr liis left foot planted and his right thrown back] He seemed as firmly rooted in his track As the fixed oak, and yet he gazed around As doth the tiger when lie stoops to bound. His left arm falling lightly by his side. His right extends, until the crimson tide ^F*,u}n '^r^^' '* P«'''>aP8 not aware that the miJitary uniform, of thJ A TALB OP LOVB AND WAR. 59 ows down the blade unto it's very hilt [d with it's dripping stains the hand is gilt, lound his front in semicircle sweep foes. Behind, the river rolls, and frowns the steep. le meanest hound will chase the flying prey, It he is staunch that baits the st^g at bay. ^ome on, ye murderous thieves I" he taunting cries, Id gleams of splendor issur from his eyes. Taste, servile minions— glut your savage will- single arm defies your utmost skill, le, cowards, come ; mine is a harmless blade, Id timid children with it's edge have played/' spoke. One stouter, bolder than the rest, jpped forth. The steel descended to his chest, jd with a dull and heavy leaden sound brawny form descended to the ground ; It ere his comrades started from surprise, fresh-stained sabre gleamed before their eyes. ■th only steeped his weary frame in sleep, 60 WILLTAM AND ANNIB, Then, leaning forward, with a sudden stroke Another's windpipe in a twinkling broke And ere their glance ctuld follow where it flej His blade in lifted readiness they view. His victim uttered with his fleeting breath A gurgle and a groan— then sank to death. " He takes it hard— indeed I meant no harm] I only tried the sinews of this arm." Then further cried he, '' Hath this host no fJ Whom I can bribe this worthless life to end ?| And as he wished no further stroke to ward Withdrew his weapon from it's constant guard That host had wavered, but when this they si Their sudden rush knew neither rule nor lawl But ere they reached him, other two had pai^ Their bloody tribute to his active blade. Vain are his rapid strokes— his skill is vain- Their solid numbers bear him down amain, A TALE OF LOVE AND WAR. 61 as his form unto the brink is pressed, j gleaming points are sheathed within his breast, [backward- as he spurned them— to the wave (headlong plunged into a watery grave. mrd they crowd. Each for his person gloats. there it is. No; 'tis his hat which floats, ^g— long they gazed. No other sign was seen. a red stream adown the rippling sheen. [went as many go— without a stone jt€ll their virtues. His were widely known, ' each who knows him, when his fate he hears, ill sadly dash away unbidden tears. |, weep not, friends, for those who bravely die, feerve your tears for them that meanly fly. Bse dwell in lasting infamy, whilst those' tct them monuments of smitten foes. |o for their country bleed no wages claim, h the rich guerdon of untarnished fame. s meed hath fallen to the dauntless few [o on that If^aguered height their weapons drew. 02 WILLIAM AND ANNIE. They need no monument. They hold a part Far higher— 'tis a sjrateful nation's heart. Their bright example like a flame shall spread] 'I'ill none shall yield save o\er heaps of dead, And our young nation, like the phoenix * sprij From cleansing fires on swifter, loftier wings. •hn„^hft'£''"""*'''\'''*'"!'*'"'* '"'■'^- "*■ rare plumage, of which J ANNIE. They hold u part nation's hoart, flame shall spread] er heaps of dead, the phoenix,* spriJ ter, loftier wings. plumage, of which thj t WU3 supposed lodisapJ yig wiih the (reshnesjl ing its exieteiit'e hv af fi nr UaiTlVE POEMS MY DESTINY. Rolling onward— rolling ever, Like a deep and rapid river, Downward, downward to the sea. Urged by fate, which none can sever, I From the spring of Fortune's lever, ' Thus the stream of life with me. When upon my bark I'd rest me, [Sorrows round the heart have prest me, Whispering tales of darkest woe, Whilst my mother's words that blest me [When an infant she caressed me. Bid me onward, onward go. 6ti POBMS. Onward from my childhood balmy, When that mother's soothing calmed me If the fever bade me groan, Till old age, so chill and clammy, Bringeth Death, swift as the chamois. Me to claim and make his own. ^•''iliiliiiii lill'-filifPI'l!! t) M But there is a star to guide me, And a friend to stand beside me As I hasten to my doom — As adown the stream I glide me, And with shielding hand to hide me From the terrors of the tomb. I have also triends to aid me tf ray conscience should upbraid me, Or aught else should cause to mourn: Ay, those friends had oft delayed me, And upon my pathway stayed me, Sought T not so bright a bourne. l>0fe!H8. 67 LEILA RUNELL. A SONG.'^ them tal^ of the pleasures of childhood '^hen the flush of enjoyment is high, I love bejond flowers and wildwood he charm of a swimming blue eye ; the wildwood, with ali it's fair flowers, Ian the heart-stirring rapture ne'er tell,' Ich awoke at a glance through it's bowers rom the eye of sweet Leila Runell. Ire are those who rejoice in bright fountains, •^here the light dancing rainbows do play, ' I, liy them, I can fly to the mountains fhich pillow the god of the day. brave the fierce storm proud careering, pth the lightnings it's fury that swell, |on, or fhe OM Arbor=!ree »' ^ ""** '"" ' ,. - . - war "Thou tney miss mere as heaven itself if //ww/ wert but there ! 'HE SOPHOMORE'S SOLILOQUY, ^o — All men seek themselves to please Some delight to take their ease As or Jones or Arthur. Aye, ."^ome love good whiskey^ as John Y, Some love to fill a hungry maw As Phelps with beefsteak drne or raw. But other goods T could forego For one good thinf:- it is Goodloe. i^m 12 POEun AN INCIDENT. ;:ir"'i!; Um :,h i Wjli I sa'« a eulprit trembling at the bar, Ajid he was sad and penitent, and tears Weit in hk eyes, and sobs broke from his His face was young, and wore a ( lildish loJ His form was fragile, and it wildly shook With mingled grief and shame. Then canij Of human shape, in female garments clad, Who stood before the judge and took an oa| And kissed the Book, and swore he was a No tear was in her eyes— no sigh escaped Her lips— her brow was stern — her voice Yet people said she was his mother. He was convicted, and the stern decree or rigid justice doomed him to he *hrown Into a glooniy dungeon, there to lie And e: * ite his crime in comofsr? With wic-ked men of every sh«J: of guilt. roiHS. 73 Tho judge was merciful, and accents sad Were mingled with the sentence. He deplored The hard necessity which drowned the hopes Of one so young in lasting infamy, And said that he was grieved, and vastly grieved : But when he would have kindly tempered law With mercy, she (?) replied and interfered With cold, high words and stern upbraiding speech ; And yet they said she was his mother. GENIUS AND PLODDER. stern decree 1 n to be *hK*own 1 Bre to lie 1 ornpf;;;?? 1 Genius and plodder both are worms Who draw from learning's leaves their milk. Dull plodder but their shape deforms, Whilst genius spins them into filk. 74 POIMS. FABE WELL. And must I speak the word " FarewelP'— That word which burns the lips that speak| And makes the uttering heart so swell, It's own deep heavings almost break it ? Ah yes ! For thou wilt soon depart, But yet Shalt cling within the chambers Of my so fondly doting heart As o'er the oak the vine that clambers. That lonely heart hath known full well The sound so chill and harshly grating, As o'er it's chords a cold '< farewell" Hath swept it's stroke, discord creating. My soul's stirred fountains, too, could tell How from a maiden once I parted, Had whose soft hand not pressed farewell, I now were dying broken-hearted. ,fvf I < I'VI POIMB. 76 Then give the breast whose gentle swell, As to my own 'tis closely pressing, |Heavcs from it's depths a warm farewell, And soothes it's sadness by caressin». With those sweet lips which seeming fell From bright Elysium's happy bowers, IWhose tender touch imprints farewell, And tints the eprief-marked cheek with flowers. [Thus when the slowly-tolling bell Shall tell that 1 have passed earth's dangers, [May I receive a true ** Farewell"— At least from friends, if not from strangers. u POIMS. i! THE HOUSE WHERE I WAS BOkJ My childhood's home ! My childhood's hoj How dear, bow sweet, that spot to me I It e'er shall haunt me if I roam O'er rolling land cr billowy sea. The house where I was bom I The house where I J Thrice cherished are those humble walls, Which echoed once my infant glee; Hut ah ! hovv chanp'ed are those dear hallj Ther are not what hej us. d to be. True, I fu3] many facp^ meet Of those of yore I loved to greet, But friendship now's not half so sweet As when I rov^. w m^rry feet, About that well ioved hou.u_the house whe- I J Life's fairest hours have flown away, And the child that once was young and gl PUEMS. 77 I WAS BOkJ ?o manhood's years fast hastens on— Oh heavens !— my childhood's days are gone. )ld Time has touched both heads ana hearts The first .bag turned to grey, Some of the latter torn in parts, And some has worn away. sister's s». ^ has floated on, A brother's .d a father's gone p'o the briglu realir of endless day ; And now my soul, left Bad and lone— [Aye, friendless and forlorn— In grief must mourn o'er pleasures gone. |0h ! I could weep it's depths away O'er the house where I was born. la POIUS. TO JENNTE. II i:- IMII '1 11 m^i There is a music io the voiceless air, A melody the silent woods among, A joy to wander where the ring-doves pair. To wonder whence our new-born feelings spru When life is innocence and love is young, For then the lightsome heart delights to sing Such strains as first in Eden's bowers were si Whilst youth and Iiope with untold raptures e\ To joy's empyrean on swift unfaltering wing. Truth, modesty, and virtue, each are gems Which loftiest monarchs might rejoice to own As brightest in most dazzling diadems, And but the pure ingenuous alone Possess the virtues which adorn a throne ; Whilst all of these concentred are in thee As unto all who know thee must be known, And those who love thee join this nrayer with « Such as thou now art, Jennie, may'st thou eve POliMH. 19 THE SHAMROCK.H^ An Irish Son«. Air—" The Soldier's Dream " The Shamrock f-Old Erin's green Shamrock ( The glory of mountain and plain ! We'll drown the bright leaves of the Shamrock, And drink to old Ireland again. Then fill we the bowl richly foaming With spirits bright sparkling and free, Wherever on earth I am roaming, Sweet Ireland, I'll drink unto thee, The home of O'Connell and Emmett And thousands of such who are gone, Awakens a love without limit, In every dutiful son. jlrish Catholics celebrale the 17th of Marr-h »« •».- „„ ri>n saint. St. Patrick, who is sRiri to iLil i . annivertai y ot fnd when the sentence was oxeiot^H ft i« ^^^}Y°^^<^"xv^^ to dfink I drinfcin.?th««: ""^''^^ '^ performtd by dipping the leaves in .n.rii- j iiiiiii 80 POBMS. Mi! I 'I Although he may wretchedly travel, And wander from clime unto clime, No spell from his heart can unravel The fancies of youth's joyous prime. Although he may gaze with emotion, On beauties of tropic and pole, That bright little isle of the ocean, Yet reigneth supreme in his soul. Then fill we the bowl, richly foaming, With spirits bright sparkling and free. Wherever on earth I am roaming, Sweet Ireland, I'll drink unto thee. 1 1^ 1 P0BU8. 81 THE GIRLS OF GUELPH. >ff When I begin to sing this song, 'Tis not to please myself • But just to yield the homage due The lovely girls of Guelph. When I behold their glossy hair Done up in nets or curled, Them I am tempted to declare The loveliest in the world. Chorus. And when I see their jaunty caps, Their dresses neat and gay, I have to hide my eyes for fear They'll steal my heart away. I love to note their lively talk, To hear their cheerful voice, This «uiig was written after the introduction ^1' was in pr? s«. 82 P0KM8. And there is something in their walk To make the ear rejoice. For there is music in the fall Of lightly stepping feet, As, lithe and joyous, large or small Go tripping down the street. OnoRUs.—But when I see their jaunty caps, Their dresses neat and gay, I have to hide my eyes for fear The}'!l steal my heart away. Then let the world go as it will, The wise will happy be, And I of bliss will drink my fill, As long as it is free. So whilst I'm stopping in the town I will not seek for pelf; But that I iftay not win a frown From any girl in Guelph. Chorus.— For when I see their jaunty caps, M POBMS. 83 LOVE AND FRIENDSHIP. jaunty caps, M youth, two cherished passions glow— Ine fraught with joy, and one with woe. love lifts it's bold attractive light, Ind bejims through the expanse of night, Jright, rosy, beautiful and fair js flames of glory gathered there, bright it's dancing columns are, |aeh blaae a sun, each spark a star. Is insects tempted by the blaze If beauty's keen and dazzling rays, Te too are prone (poor witless things) h fly too near and scorch our wingg. [ow often., when most bleaf we seem, Te find that but the meteor's gle^m |as led to a more dismal shade, |«r hopes destroyed, our trust betrayed ! SI Jl 84 POEMU. !M Nof so with friendship's calmer ray. Which sweetly smiles upon our way In fortune's hour and danger's day. Oft when a dark and gathering gloom. More awful than the shadowy tomb, Hath whelmed us in it's deathlike state; When love itself is drowned in hate, And madness, in it's withering stain, Hath alff ost steeped the reeling brain, Sweet friendship, like a fairy, comes To raise for us enchanted domes, Waves once on high her wand of white, The day-beam dawns, and all is light. Then trust not to love's flitting beam, Which sports on hope's deceitful atream Awhile, a\id promises to stay, And ere we turn is flown away ; But rather court the oheerlul glow Of friendship, cairn and sweet as even, Which seemeth doomed to bud below, Yet cannot blossom but in Heaven. POEMS. 85 !: LINES WRITTEN ON THE DEATH OP A CHILD STRUCK BY LIGHTNING. It was a bleak and cloudy day A pretty child had gone astray. 'J'he lightning wished to snatch a kiss From one m beauteous and so gay ; It seized one rapturous smack of bJiss, And kissed the tiny thing away. Wi THE WAKNING. % u She thtl in man her trust r.^poses, May thread awhile a t ath of roses; But, andcmcath the flowers spread A wily serpent hides his head. 86 POEMS. DO I NOT LOVE THEE ? I 'IlI^^IMSl m ii ''W' ,p M "^ 'ii ,fi Do I not love thee ? Ask my soul Hath it a single thought Which bows not to thy sweet control, By love's omniscience taught. Love thee? Ah yes ! My heart's bests From tenor to deep bass, Make music at thy gentle words, Moved by thy spirit's grace. Say, are the stars true to their tryst, And to the queenly moon ? And would I leave thee ? Well, I wist They'd leave her train as Soon. Say, do the flowers love the sun, Or feel his cheering ray ? Then, would I lose thee, darling one ? N:i} , sooner him would the^. ■ POEMS. 87 E THEE ? Lsk my soul sweot control, taught. My heart's best ( ass, [e words, grace. their tryst, oon ? ' Well, I wist as toon. he suD, r? larling one ? they. . Doth the refreshing flowret's bloom Cheer the industrious bee ? Yet sooner from it's rich perfume He'd turn than /from thee. THE CHALLENGE. Said John to Bill the other day, I'll beat you, it is flat, Just let me try what pleases me, I'll beat you bad at that. Ah, yes, 1 know you can, quoth Bill, The other day we tried The only thing that e'er pleased you- To see which one out- lied. I » A 88 POEMS. :|, i 1: j. ,■ /'.■::':| j • kiillkl Liitji'tj,; i TO THE INFIDEL. Bash mortal, who, puffed up with pride, Would'st Heaven's majesty deride, Hast thou explored the tide which flows Beneath the frozen polar snows To prove God's goodness doth not shine Amid the splendors of the surging brine ? Or hast thou faced it's angry swell, To hear the tropic storm-bird tell That He is all devoid of power Who rules the tempest's vengeful hour ? Presumptuous man, say, can'st thou throw Across the heavens yon matchless bow ? Cans't thou, in thy dark hour of wrath. Direct the simoon's wasting path ? Or can thy puny efforts stay The lightnings on their stormy way ? P0BM8. 89 Then may'st thou, man, the clod, compare With Him who hung the globe in air— With Him who rules in boundless bliss Ten thousand brighter worlds than this ! n EPITAPHS. ON AN OLD Maid. Here lies a woman, lived single her^life, No vows of love could then shake her, So when Beelzebub looks for a wife, She'll suit, and we think he will take her. ON AN OLD BACHELOR. I A fellow's grave in this spot you here view, Who shunned all the women, (dod rot him,) We long had thought him the devil's own due, And ftow the « nigger" has got him. »0 POEMS. MY DREAM . If dreams always speak true, my dear, Why then in truth 'tis you, my dear, Til lit I will likely marry. I dreamed I saw two bubbles thrown Upon a bright and sparkling river, One was thy heart, and one mine own— There sweetly doomed to float forever. i fe ■-*• But ah ! — the brightest dreams will fade- Rich laurels wither — Oft Hope flies to some darksome shade— We know not whither ! P0IM8. 01 DISAPPOINTMENT. jams will fade-l *Tis sad to love and not be loved ; But yet, a keener, deeper smart It's lasting pungency hath proved On many a noble, trusting heart. When hopes we once have madly cherished, Have, like the rainbow's glories, perished, And drowned their bright but fleeting forms, Like them, amid the wreck of storms— When favors which we deemed our own As drift upon the tide are thrown, And smiles, deemed more than heavenly fair, Become as wanton as the air, The soul, aghast o'er trust betrayed, Views with dismay each flower and blade, Once fresh and blooming, turned to dust. And quenches worship in disgust. IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 I.I IM Ui Hi u 2a 3.6 2.2 125 iu 1.6 150mm V ^; *> "% / '/. >1PPLIED^ IIVMGE . Inc .^= 1653 East Main Street s^ ^ Rochester, NY 14609 USA -^g*^ Phone: 716/482-0300 -=■-:==: Fax: 716/288-5989 1993. Applied Image. Inc.. All Rights Reserved '^ p^t,^ r o ;* W I cm 92 POBMS. It is as if a sweeping wave Should whelm one in a gloomy cave, Where toads and lizards creep in flocks, And serpents line the slimy rocks, And leave him there in rayless night, Without a torch or match to light ! Life yet remains, but no relief Can soothe it's unremitting grief. The ringing shout of joyous youth, The generous smile of love and truth, The rapid flight of happy hours, The birds, the trees, the fields, the flowcia. The breezes murmuring gently by. But mock it's woe— 'twere sweet to die. The wretch immediate struck to death Feels pangs, to his, how faint and narrow ! Who draws a more extended breath, Yet sees the poison on the arrow. ■I f P0BM8. 9H LINES WRITTEN ON THE LIKENESS OP A BEAIJTIFrL TOUNO LADY. I o'er thy face could spend my days From one each night to next at one, l>id not, sweet maid, our raptured gaze Grow dim from restinj^ on the sun. M AN ACROSTIC. Lady, once thy name could move me ; In my heart's bright bowers then Zephyrs played and bade me love thee ; Zeal can not urge me thus again. In my soul a breach is cleft- Eyrie of it's eaglets reft. 94 POKUS. TO M A T T I E J wandered where the waving sedge Hung beautifully tipped with dew xVlong a purling streamlet's edge, As if to catch the passer's view. The wuter-lily'a gaudy charms 8hone too upon my wondering eye, And, bulrushes whose stately forms Majestically rose on high. But none ot these gave half the joy Of one small flower my gaze that met. It shunned each breeze that sought toy — Sweet, tiny, modest violet. Hence showy things shall charm me never Whilst present memories are mine ; But this shall be my antheiu ever: "Hail Modesty, thou nymph divine !" 1 f POEMS. 95 3dge I dew ;w. Returning thoughts that pleasant hour Have often given to my view, Till now 1 find the charming flower, Sweet friend, daguerreotyped in you. g eye, rms NELLY. A Song. joy that met. ght toy— me never mine ; livinef" (^reen, green is the sod of the valley, Where my Nelly's loved form doth low lie. No grief with her soul can now dally, It has winged it's bright way to the sky. Then there let the loved one sweet rest her In peace by the murmuring stream, For ©h f how Heaven has blest her. To wake her from raiseiy's dream I 96 POEMS. h ' / TO AGNES. -o- When we the sun rich-gleaming view, It's brilliant light grows dim, yet dimmer ; But when, sweet girl, we look on you At every glance new beauties glimmer. As, if between two looking-glasses A person or an object stand, From each to each the image passes, Thus forming one unending band ; So you in vain attempt to smother Each virtue, each delightful grace. Thrown from your soul, th«y seek the other Bright mirror— that your charming face. But bubbles, when their fair forms gain More beams of brightly budding beauty. Quite soon dissolve in gentle rain, As if this were each fair thing's duty. ' Gooi The ffow J Wit ft brir Wh( t stee] Thei )ost n( First POBlfS. 97 ig view, aif yet dimmer : : OQ you ies glimmer. asses i, \ passes, Ig band ; lother ul grace. r seek the other charming face. forms gain idding beauty, rain, hing's duty. Then let this be of thoughts thy first: Improve what virtues God has given. That you, whene'er life's bubbles burst. May shed your airy soul to heaven. GOODNIGH T. •' Goodnight-goodnight." It is a pleasant sound, Though often used with thoughts of sadness. How prone to make the wearied heart to bound With feelings of remembered gladness ! It brings the mind to thoughts of other years. When pur«r, holier motives bound us— t steeps the eyes awhile in transient tears. Then lo ! our childhood's scenes surround us. >ost not remember, when thy tender tongue First bathed itself in words of prayer. &8 roKMg. II > How, kneeling by thy bedside oft and long, Thy mother pleaded for thee there? Dost not remember when she left your bed, Kre she withdrew those eyes of light, She kissed you — you embracing said, '' Oh. mother, mother dear, Goodnight?" i Hast thou a loved one whom thy soul can claim - Whose every heart-string, turned to yours, Vibrates in music at your cherished name, And thence it's richest accents pours? Dost not remember when thy pleasant stay Hath seen the stars begin their flight, As tremblingly within your arms she lay. She whispered sweetly, '* Love, Goodnight" ? Well may we revel in the dreams of youth, It's darling hopes we well may cherish, For there enshrined in love and peace and truth £ach dear remembrar.ee oannot perish ; ipoias. 99 md long, jre? our bed, light, id, inight ?" oul can claim d to yours, d name, pours? >ant stay flight, she lay. Goodnight" ? of youth, cherish, ace and truth, perish; But yet shall well up in the desert heart Those waters pure and fresh and bright, No other spell could half so soon impart As friendship's cherished word. Goodnight. LO VE . Doth there bloom in grove or bower A beauteous and sweet-scented flower, In whose very breath is power ? Yes, there doth.— That flower is Love. In the city, in the wildwood, In old age,, in youth, in childhood, Everywhere, a thing so mild should. Gentlest maiden— there blooms love. If you meet a boy called Cupid, Whether he looks bright or stupid, Or as if he had been duped Shun bis glances— it is lovei IP .' s 'p 100 P0IM8. Guard thee from his tiny arrows, Althongh they seem but made for sparrows. When his bow he greatly narrows, Larger game are struck by love. Is there that which you can never From my inmost bosom sever Whilst shall flow my life's red river ? Dearest Fannie, it is love. Then I wish I were his dart, love, T would pass each other heirt, love. But I would make thine smart, love, Then, in truth, we both would love. THE WITLING. There is a man who needs to learn, But were he wise would know it ; The would-be wit wins but contempt From him he calls *< The Poet." I som Am For h( For To tra Car. Thoug My 'Tis tr Nor But I] Thai And th Unw poms. 101 'OWS, ie for sparrows, rows, r love. never p d river ? love, i, love, rt, love, ►uld love. G. learn, ow it; n tempt oet.'' TO ANNA. A Sonnet. I Bometimes dream of honor and of glory, And both of these desire for Anna's sake, For her, content to toil till time is hoary. For her, to leave the tempest in my wake, To trap the lion's cub or tame the snake, Careless if I but win her single smile, Though all the world with frenzied scom'should quake My feverish temples bum, my racked bones ache. ^ Tis true, I cannot trudge the weary mile, Nor have I learned to till the fruitful mil But I have noted well the graceful rhyme, That fairy music from some distant isle* And therewith blend thy name to last sublime, Unworn by winter and untrencbed by time. M tos P0IM8 THE GIRLS OF GARAFRAXA. A Song. Ajr—" rhe Girl I left behind me." In coming to this land of snow From one which is more kindly, I could not tell which way to go, But cast about me blindly, Until I found with glad surprise. That Lincoln could not tax the Bright rosj cheeks and smiling eyes, Of the Girls of Garafraxa. Chorus — Then ye who love to loudly boast, Of beauty's proud galaxy, Come fill the bowl - we'll drink a toa To the Girls of Garafraxa. I came -I saw — 'twas sweet to learn Kings cannot win all beauty, But I myselt am free to yearn, With all a true heart's duty. I cannot v< iiintaiice v P0I1I8. 103 lA. a SoNfi. me. N idly, go, ise, the i; eyes, udly boast, alaxv, '11 drink a toa ifraxa. > learn And though I cannot sing a sonj^ Like Bryant or like Saxe, T yet could rhyme the whole day long To the Girls of Garafraxa. Chorus— Then ye who love to loudly boast, &e. And now determined I've become, If I can make the weather, To coax one to go with me home, In wedlock's binding tether. But then agen, I dinna ken, For I hae got a tickle Frae ae sweet lass— a bonnie frien'— Ane whilk T met frae Nichol. Chorus— Then drain the bowl, an' dinna fret, Or say I'm growing fickle. For whiles there's drink I'll no forget. The lass I met frae Nichol * nS.rert^h'th?;.rgurg?^ «--'' "^ ^^^ «^-- - -^ 104 P0KH8. TO**** ji.Sff Think not the strongest love will last. When too severely iried. The ridged oak totters to the blast, ' And flint is crumbled by the tide. The bust another's arm enslaves Cannot be clasped by mine. V/ith one that vari js as the vraves My soul will not combine. The head which weights another's breast Can never rest on this ; ^ The lips another's lips have pressed To mine can bring no bliss. ^\nd yet 1 scorn to seek relief From pangs conferred by thee ; But still will smile and bear my grief, With inward drops of agony. P0IM8. 105 TO LILAH. will last, ! blast, he tide. ves avfcs ler's breast ressed bee ; ny grief, This heart ne'er gave to foe a place Until I saw fair Lilah's face. I saw. Twas but a single glance, Yet never was a stroke of lance, Or cast of dart more swift and true, Or passed it's aim more fairly through. That heart had stood a target-spot For many a well-aimed deadly shot ; But interest often,--often pride, Had turned the well-aimed barb aside j Till now it entered manhood's prime, Unscathed and all untouched by time. The twig which bends when zephyrs blow. May snap, and none it^s fall will know, But ail the forest feels the stroke, When lightnings dash the storm-beat oak Had it but fallen when fresh and young, Ere grief its tender ner^^a h^-i ^f 106 POKMS. i.« It then had been no noble deed, To make the stripling tyro bleed. But thou hast fought and conquered well, As he who feels shuns not to tell, But yields content to love's sweet pain, Since art and valor both are vain, To ward the spell of light that lies, Sweet Lilah, in those dark bright eyes. .■t I SECOND LOVE. Some have said that when delivered Of first love the heart is shivered, But believe, believe them not ; For when other eyes are gazing On our own, and we are grazing On other charms, those are forgot. POIMS. 107 I, id. uered well, 3et pain, aio, lies, jht eyes. E. ivered red, 3t ; forgot. Thus the bright and tiny birdlet, Though her warmest blood is curdled By the deed of some rash boy, All her young so cruel slaying, To some greener bower straying, Soon eclipses former joy. Thus the brooklet, brightly gleaming, Stopped by ruthless dam whilst streaming, Sobs it's little self to sleep, Whilst it's heart, though sad with grienn Dreams of vengeance dire is weaving, And soon makes a livelier leap. Thus the bow, when, closely bending, It nearest comes to rudely rending, °' At this time springs strongest back, Thus the heart, when nearest breaking, In itself most strength is waking, But weakens when it's chords are shok. ft" 108 POMS. A PICTURE. My fair can match in Beauty's court The brightest bud that blows ; See, Love has limned her form in sport 1 With lily and with rose ; Till now he sought the violet's hue To tint that matchless eye. Whose sun-lit well of heavenly dew Would tempt a kmg to aie. ■ And then he shore the garden sun 1 Of half its golden beams, And bade them o'er her shoulders run Y In ever rippling streams. Now piled two heaps of drifted snow •s Upon that peerless breast. Soft pillows for his tender brow A la times of sweetest rest* P0BM8, 1(^9 jourt in sport hue sun ers run snow I thought that bust would lose its mould, If by this arm once bounii. I clasped. Within the passionate fold It grew more full and round. I thought that cheek would bloom less fair, If nestled close to this, I pressed it, and I found that there It bloomed in fresher bliss. The roses from those lips one kiss Of mine I feared would sever. I sipped from that sweet cup of bliss, Left rosier now than ever. Those liquid eyes, you well may know, I thought my sight would dim, Yet they, as we in passion grow, In richer lustre swim. Now who would find a sweeter lass, Must roam this wide world over. And, when the last clime he shall pass, Must wander still a rover. 110 POKMS. If A SONG aUPPOflKD TO BE SUNG BY A MEXICAN POBT ON THE BVBNT OP THE AMERICAN INVASION. She As Aril Wh Aril Aril Itii A But A Oh ! what a land for poetry and dreams, Where every morn and every twilight teems With beauty, whilst from every chapparal bou: A warbler flutters as on springtime's brow, And ever rises in spiritual strains The unsung music of her matchless plains 1 Here age sees rain"bowed in bis glistening tears Ihe boyhood's sports which charmed his ei Again he leads the h--oienda dance, [y Again he learns to couch the trembling lance. Again he woes the maid by moonlight sheen, Again his steed o'erleaps the broad ravine. Ah ! who can bear to live, when scenes like th( Have ceased to move — nay, e'en have ceasi '^^^^ ^ please ? But if the pleasant landscape's plea you spurn Lo ! where on high your country's mountains \ As con But ui Their 1 ET ON THE BVBN1 N. dream S) light teems ohapparal bou ne's brow, r less plains 1 [listening tears harmed his a ce, [y imbling lance nlight sheen, aad ravine. I scenes like th< \*en have ceas( plea you spurn fa mountains 1: FOBMa 111 She should have found you in her time of woe« As firm as these— she finds you soft as those, Arise, ye sons of Mexico ! — be brave ! Who slumbers longer is a willing slave. Arise !— a stranger's step pollutes your shore !— Arise, and strike, or dare to rise no more ! It is enough. The minstrel's song is ended, And softly dies it's cadence through the \ide, But with the breeze it's stirring i?ords are blended, And still it murmurs in the pregnant gale. A M T TO. Kind words once spoken leave their trains of light As comets in the beamless arch of night ; But unkind ones, as freshets, leave behind Their heaps of drift upon the furr wed mind. $ 113 POBIfS. THE TEAR. I would I were a tiny tear, To glide adown thy flushing cheek ; For oh ! the pressure I would make Would be so sweetly light and weak ! I would not leave my resting place, As many foolish drops would do ; But steal unto thy ruby lips, And sip their heavenly nectar too. Oh ! I would sit so softly there, You'd let me stay and kiss fore'er; From you such sweetness should I catch, I could not seem a naughty tear.. TBI IND. ^ . • f check ; make ■ nd weak ! ^ 1 Jace, Ido; • ir too. * J • ore'er; *% Id I catch, tear. • ■