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WEBSTIR.N.Y. MS80

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MCPHERSON'S POEMS.

(

POEMS,

DESCRIPTIVE AND MORAL,

JOHN IcPHEESON.

STYLED BY HtMSELF

"HARP OF ACADIA.

it\ »»f -!,*>,

HALIFAX, N. S.

PRINTED BY THEOPHILUS CHAMBERLAIN

18G2.

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i^oi

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I

INTRODUCTOKY MEMOIE.

The literary memorial is, in modern times, a favorite resort
against earthly oblivion and forgetf ulness. It is one of the least
expensive of the monuments to departed ability or worth, and
may be the most popular, enduring, and useful.

The statuary or tablet may fix the attention of friendship or
curiosity, — the pyramid, looming above the desert sands, may
attract the traveller from a distance ; — but marble and granite
have but a narrow sphere, a vague and fleeting story, compared
with the volume of letter-press. The latter, to some extent,
perpetuates the spirit of the departed. It furnishes precept,
while it embodies warning or example ; — it lies on many a cot-
tage window-sill, — and bears its more ample record to other
generations.

Subjects deemed appropriate for memoir, ho\vi:ver, are com-
paratively few. Generally speaking, only to those who stood
somewhat apart in life, — and who in character or achievement,
attained or deserved, a conspicuous position, are such remem-
brancers usually accorded.

A new country has but few memorials of the past of human
history,— but few who are distinguished in any of the more
select pursuits of life, — and it is apt to be neglectful of interest-
ing reeoi*ds, until due materials for them pass beyond reach.
Under such circumstances, more than the usual excuse, or
demand, exists, for occasionally taking advantage of oppor-

II.

JNTRODICTORY MKMOI R.

tunities, by securing such memories as may tend to usefully
distinguish or ornament the social annals. In land.-^ of ancient
refinement and renown, the elaborately rich landscape has
castle and palace and cathedral, as marks of wealth and pro-
gress; — in places emerging from the wilderness state, the cottage
and the clearing, beside woodland and lake, are deemed worthy
of some respectful attention. So it may be with human story.

Above seventeen years ago, the subject of the present memoir,
under circumstances of rapidly declining health, looked fondly
forward to such a mode of keeping himself and his writings in
some remembrance by his countrymen, — and chose the pen for
the anticipated work. Since then, amid the vicissitudes of life,
the task has been frequently butfetted from the willing hand ;
the times were not propitious for publication of the poems, and
annoying postponements took place. Hope of achieving the
object, however, was cherished, and the idea was occasionally
urged on public notice. Opportunity dawns at last ; and the
wish of the departed, and of many living friends, has promise
of being realized.

As the writer of numerous favorite melodies, who lived and
died separated from the busy world, intent on maintaining the
minstrel's vocation, — as one whose ambition was, to be called
the Poet of his native Province, — and whose hopes, eflbrts,
achievements, and disappointments, afford lessons, interesting
and useful, — McPherson, surely, was Avorthy of such a tribute
to his memory, such a fulfilment of his expectations, as this
volume supplies.

To trace the emotions and exertions of a mind out of the
usual order, may be variously desirable, even though the fine
machine did not always run wisely, according to the wisdom of
this world. The rude details of every-day experience, encount-
ered under very untoward circumstances, may, like the bars of
the sky-lark's cage, have prevented higher flight and sweeter
music, and caused laceration and early subsidence of song and
life; — but the snatches of melody should be appreciated, and
the pathetic »tory win attention in a leisure hour.

INTUODUCTOUY MLMOIU.

111.

to usefully
of ancient
Iscape has
li and pro-
tlie cottage
ned worthy
iman story.
;nt memoir,
ked Ibndly
writin«:;s in
he pen for
ides of life,
lling hand ;
poems, and
liieving the
)ccasionally
5t; and the
las promise

o lived and
taining the
) be called
)es, efforts,
interesting
a tribute
ms, as this

out of the
the fine
wisdom of

encount-
the bars of
kd sweeter

song and
liated, and

Much of a country's wealth consists in her better minds. To
allow the memory of such to di.><appear with their earthly frames,
may be considered about as^iappropriate and injudicious, as
would be the interring of money wealth when the spirit de-
parted. Where the memory of genius is baleful, let it be
forgotten, except by way of lament or warning; where it is of
beneficial tendency, the light should, as it may, be handed
down from generation to generation. Happily, McPherson'a
intellectual remains are of the purer kind.

Nova Scotia cannot atlbrd to lose sui^h property. Within
a brief period several names went from the lists of earthly life,
— the intellect connected with which deserved careful preserva-
tion. AA^here are the eloquent and beautiful passages from the
speeches of S. G. W. Archibald, as barrister and " Speaker of
the House " ? Where the simply wise and classic observations
of the " Philosopher of the Dutch Village " ? Where the his-
toric narrative, the local anecdote, the peculiar information in
varied departments of knowledge, which other " old inhabi-
tants " might have so copiously furnished ? Answers to those en-
quiries, in many instances, would be painful. Let McPherson's
poems be an exception to the too common rule of young countries,
— and perhaps other similar memorials — calculated to be inter-
esting and useful, and those qualities should not be separated —
may yet furnish valued contributions to Provincial Literature.

To speculate now, on what the subject of this memoir would
have been under more fortunate worldly circumstances, or with
more business sagacity and every-day prudence, would be idle.
He was of delicate health, a school-teacher, a writer of verses, in
a rural district of a new country; he ex[)erienced,in aggravated
form, the privations too often consequent on such circumstances,
and had, in addition, delicate sensibility, literary ambition,
visions of impracticable achievement, which were calculated
to make his position more keenly distressing.

But, withal, he cherished, almost unwaveringly, a love of the
beautiful and the good, of earth ; — and fond thoughts, elevating
and eonsolina;, of the better couutrv bovond.

IV.

INTRODUCTORY MEMOIR.

ThiR smi»1l volnnif afTords "ome olnrar'tonstif's of the man. in
n^Aireru'cr to tli;- hrit'f rmrrativo oi' his li<e; — but much more
8n;jr'_'(^stivo iMflKviriryns of his jufntril coustituiiou, of his sulU'rinps
and his cujoyuK'nts, in tht' versos winch follow; and which he
left lovingly and hop(?rnlly to the Province whose bard he de-
lighted to be considered.

Each of the titles under which the poems are arranged, fur-
nishes intimations of his moods and experience. " Love of
Nature" was pre-eminently a prevailing tone of his mind. The
*' Social and Doniostic " associations and affections might be
considered instinctive to his mental constitution. He brooded,
either in grief or love, over the " Personal " phases of his
troubled life. The " Devotional " tendency appeared in almost
every part of his more serious contemplations. Moral Reform,
in the way of " Temperance " and otherwise, early attracted his
attention, and sometimes engrossed his energies ; — and his " Oc-
casional" literary efforts were more or less tinged, throughout,
■with the varied coloring suggested by external nature, by family
and Individual affections, and by moral and religious impulses.
Such was the man, with his defects and his virtues, to save
whose memory from oblivion, to some good extent and good
effect. Is an object of this presentation of his writings, to the
public for whom they were composed.

SOME INCIDENTS OF LIFE.

John McPiierson was born in Liverpool, Nova Scotia, the
pleasant shire-town of Queen's County, on the 4th of February
1817, — and continued to reside there, for the most part, until
about his seventeenth year. Ills school education was confined
to the common branches usuallv taught in rural districts. His
early teacher was Mr. Stephen Payzant, lor whom the poet
entertained much respect.

McPhcrson's boyhood was distinguished for seriousness, for
avoidance of rough boistei'ous })lay, — for fondness of retirement,
and for an ambition to improve his mind, and mayhap to win
some literary fame. Probably attention to physical organiza-

INTKODUCTOUY MEMOIR.

• man. in
eh more
iu(V«'ring.s
which he
[•(1 he de-

iged, fur-

• Love of
nd. The
might be

brooded,
es of his
in almost
I Reform,
racted his
his " Oc-
roughout,
by family
I impulses.
s, to save
and good
rs, to the

cotia, the
ebruary

art, until
confined

cts. His
the poet

ness, for

tirement,

to win

jrganiza-

t'lon was made undtdy subsjcrvlent to intollpctual oulturo in the
earlier years of his life ; — and for such imprudence, nature
generally inflicts some penalties both on body and mind. He
appears to have had only few opportunities for the improvement
after which he yearned, but those opi)ortunities were highly
valued.

His habit was to study by fire-light, or alone in fields or woods,
— or in other places of solitude and quiet. His favorite reading
consisted of what arc considered classic English works, in prose
and verse. He was fond of repeating passages from Campbell's
and Kirke White's poe;ns ; — and his story, in many parts, had
much in common with that of the amiable bard who wrote so
plaintively of sickness and disappointment, and early departure
from the trials of earth.

At about his seventeenth voar he went to live at BroolcHeld,
in what is called the northern district of Queen's County. His
place of residence there was the house of his uncle, Mr. D.
McPherson, whose daughter the poet married a few years
subsequently.

While at Brookfield ho had the benefit of brief tuition, from
Mr. A. M. Gidney ; a gentleman of literary taste and talent,
who cherished aifection for the poet and respect for his literary
abilities.

This friend relates two interesting incidents relative to Mc-
Pherson's early history. The first has reference to the earliest
observed indication of the strength of his poetic sensibilities.
A young woman, an acquaintance of McPherson, had been,
at the time referred to, recently married to one of the young
settlers of the district. Her husband had been away from homo
for some days, at work in the woods, when the relater of the
anecdote, McPherson, and the young woman, met in her father's
garden, at summer twilight; — the hour whose semi-obscurity
adds so much to the poetic effects of rural scenery. The bark-
ing of a dog interruptoil the iViendly couversiition, and, looklag
in the direction indicated, the woodman was observed, "plod-
ding his weary way," to the homestead. A grateful fiush man-

VI.

INTKUDL'CTORy MEMOIR.

tied the young wiic's clieeU, and the older of her companions
ejaculated :

" 'Tls sweet to lioar tlie watch-dog's honest bark
Bay (leep-moiithe^l welcome as we ilniw near liome ;
'Tis swei.'t to know thei-e is an eye will mark
Our coming, and look brighter that we come."

The quotation was new music to McPherson ; a remark testi-
fied to tiie charm which it had for his ear — and he requested a
repetition of the lines, as calling up very pleasing visions to his
imagination.

Soon after, the two friends, preceptor and pupil, were enjoy-
ing an evening ramble on the banks of *' Pleasant River."
They ascended a rising ground, and loitered awhile, gazing on
the landscape, under the influences of moonlight. The elder
repeated Coleridge's line ballad of Genevieve, commencing
with the suggestive lines :

" The moonshine stealing o'er the scene,
Had blended with the lights of eve."

The melody and pathos of the verse, allected McPherson to
tears ; and the interchange of thought which followed, proved
to his friend, that the young man was eminently predisposed
to those utterances of strong emotion and just sentiment, in
fitting words, that constitute so much of the poetic faculty.

About this time, in a playful contest with a young friend,
poor McPherson received severe personal injury, which caused
him some months' confinement to the house, and frequent sub-
sequent weakness and pain. The friend alluded to, in a letter
dated 1861, says: "An accident o;;curred in our school-boy
days which developed some valuable traits, in McPhorson's
character. In ,^ boyish struggle between us, his ankle was
fractured. This caused deep and lasting regret to me, and
pain an', inconvenience to him, — but the event which in ordi-
nary minds would have awakened diflorent feelings, only served
as an occasion for calling out his spirit of forgiveness, and made
Uim ever after my warmest and most faithful friend."

klePherson to
owed, proved
prediifsposed
sentiment, in
faculty,
young friend,
wrhicli caused
frequent sub-

0, in a letter
r school-boy
McPherson's
IS ankle was
; to me, and
liieh in ordl-

1, onlv served
ss, and made
ll."

Y companions

liome ;

remark testi-
j requested a
; visions to his

1, were enjoy-
isant River."
lile, gazing on
fc. The elder

commencing

I NTRODUCTORY Mli'.MOl R.

Vll.

Before taking up the employment of School teaching, Mc-
Pherson lived in Halifax tor awhile, in tlie capacity of clerk.
When approaching manhood, he went a voyage to the West
Indies, — during which he evinced his proneness to be unduly
affected by unfriendly circumstances and prospects and the
harsh moods of others.

He was married on the 12th December, 1841. The match
was one of poetry and love, undertaken while heavy clouds
impended over his experience and his prospects, but gleams of
hope on the horizon more than counterbalanced, to him, the
gloom of the present. He indulged cheering visions of poetic
fame and pecuniary reward, — of a cottage and a small farm, —
and humble h^ppy independence.

He moved to Kempt Settlement, Queen's County, and taught
school 'or two years. Thence he went to Maitland, Annapolis
County, and finally returned to Brookfield, the home of his
alfections.

He had intellv?"<:ual qualifications for the teacher's avocation ;
— he studied educational topics carefully ; — he wrote on some
departments of the profession ; — but he loved leisure and medi-
tative peace, his physical health required repose anrl solace, —
his mind was sensitive and yearned for some reasonable worldly
competence. Such requirements, natural and praiseworthy in
their way, were sadly out of keeping with the noise, and rough-
ness, and fagging, and poor pecuniary remuneration, of such
schools as came within his personal experience. No wonder
that under the changes of locality, incident to his teaching
years, his prevailing feelings were those of dilUculty and gloom :
his chief employment was not congenial or productive, and want
of daily means for comfort, became almost a daily fear.

A letter from his widow, to a friend, — relc'rring to a period
soon subsequent to their marriage, says : " He continued his
teaching, which weighed on him as a heavy task : shut up day
after dav in a miserable, uncomfortable, unhealthv school-
house, and being mu<'!i oppressed for breath. The labor and
care were too much |br his deli(;ate health : he used to come

g g g tf g^-aia mM w g i' WP Wf w i

viu.

INTRODUCTORY MEMOIR.

home so utterly worn down, so discouranjcd and so sad ; his mind
so low at times, it was fearful beyond description. None but the
Almighty knows how much he and I sutrered ; I have tried to
forget those sufferings ; you are the first person to whom I have
spoken of them since his death ; I know they will leave no other
impression on your mind than they have on my own, — pity and
love."

What eloquent indications are here given of the social and
inner life of the poor man whose poetry, meanwhile, was afford-
ing pleasure to so many minds. What indications, also, of the
wretched provision made for teachers and teaching in too many
parts of new countries. How often might country school-houses
be described as poor sheds on rocky spots at cross-roads, uncom-
fortable, and unsightly, instead of being, as they ought, commo-
dious and ornamental, cherished landmarks of the invaluable
privileges of education.

" Delightful task to rear the tender thought,
And teach the young idea liow to shoot."

Yes, delightful in its abstract nature and objects ; — not, by
any means, undelightful, either, in practice, to the adapted
mind, and under favourable circumstances ; — but many varieties
and strong contrasts exist in the profession. Let not those who
think highly of it be ready to blame poor McPherson as queru-
lous and over sensitive. Neither in body or mind was he fitted
for the charge of a wilderness-settlement school ; and content-
ment or success, under his circumstances, might well be deemed
impracticable.

McPherson learned somewhat of carpentering, and worked
at the business for a short time. His attention seems to have
be«n attracted diversely, according to moods and opportunities.
Occasionally he was led to desire more active employment, at
the carpenter's bench, or in tiie field, as more conducive to
health and cheerfulness ; — occasionally his energies were devot-
ed to the school, as a ready and appropriate sphere for a studi-
ous mind ; — and poetic conipoiitions, sometimes absorbed his

INTJIODUCTOUY MEMOHl.

IX.

; his mind
ne but the
tried to
tn I have
i no other
-pity and

locial and
as aflPord-
30, of the
too many
)ol-housea
Is, uncom-
t, commo-
n valuable

—not, by
adapted
varieties

hose who

IS queru-

he fitted

eontent-

B deemed

worked
s to have
rtunilies.
k^ment, at
(lueive to
re devot-
f a studi-
>rbed his

attention. '' luse he felt and thoufi^ht poetry, and fondly ima-
gined that !0 indulging his n\o.st cherished propensity, some
reppectablo share of fame and of pecuniary reward, would
result.

During a visit to Halifax in 184.1, his demeanor was mark-
ed by the quiet retiring characteristics previously alluded to.
He appeared to lack curiosity and interest concerning matters,
generally found attractive by visitors from the country, and to
rather shrink within himself, and within some world of his
recollection, from the noise and aetivitv of the world about him.
But he could" well enjoy the society of persons having literary
tastes akin to his own, — and therefore readily, though rather
dreamily at times, he made one of an evening circle where
literature, as a matter of course, would become a theme.

About this time he became acquainted with Sarah Herbert,
whose published verses have had a wide Provincial circulation.
Miss Herbert, like McPherson, was warmly attached to poetr}-^,
and fond of giving literary exercises a moral and religious ten-
dency. She evinced hearty admiration for the sweetness of
McPherson's lyre, appreciated his unsophisticated character, and
could repeat from memory, with much feeling, several of his
best lines. One pleasant evening, a small social party, includ-
ing the two writers, was assembled. The conversation, as
might be expected, turned on poetry, and Miss Herbert recited
with clearness, taste, and due emphasis, his stanzas, entitled
" Longings for Spring." The company were much pleased with
the plaintively picturesque lines ; but the bard himself, on hear-
ing his verse so fluently repeated by a sister melodist, was gra-
tified and delighted beyond measure, and forgot, for a happy
moment, present cares and gloomy prospects.

Both writers, and others, then young in years and hope,
and who well enjoyed the mental treat of the evening, went ear-
ly beyond the " <lark river." The memory of that past has
eloquently sad homilies for survivors; but may we not hope that
the departed have united in higher converse in a better land?
Such hopes are re(pured to give a " silver lining " to the cloud

INTRODUCTORY MEMOIR.

that SO frequently impends over mutations of earth. As Miss
Herbert wrote, in memorial verses inscribed to McPherson :

" Tlic lyre we hear no more,

He, doubtless, tunctli to a loftier strain ;
And its soft music swells, unmixed with pain,
In hymns triumphal, on the heavenly shore."

Poor McPherson indulged some reasonable ambitions, in re-
ference to affairs of this life. One of those was, to have a cot-
tage of his own ; he fondly dreamed of a home, where he might
freely indulge his social feelings, might make wife and child
happy, and sit at a comfortable lire-side, the kind master of a
loving circle. This Avas but a reasonable ambition ; he felt it to
be virtuous and manly ; he made what might indeed be called a
death-struggle for its accomplishment; but just as the prize
seemed about to be realized, it eluded his enfeebled grasp.
The cottage went from his possession, and he, worn out, and ut-
terly defeated in his earthly hopes, departed to the " narrow
house" which all inherit, and which he had learned to look on
as a shelter and a refuge.

In his building efforts he was aided by Halifax friends.
The Highland Society gave him a donation of £20 10s. ; and
an association, called the Literary Society — consisting chiefly of
young men, clerks, store-keepers, and others — presented him
with a purse of £30. A gentleman also loaned him, on
terms which made the loan equivalent to a gifl, a sum of £25.
Little was said of this benefaction, or of the benefactor, at the
time, for but little Avas known on the subject : — now, however,
when the incident has so long passed by, it may be only right to
say, that the money was furnished by "Wm. Young, Esc^., the
present Chief Justice of Nova Scotia.

McPherson accepted those compliments with feelings of gra-
titude and of self-respect. He profjcrly considered them as
marks of regard for himself and his writings, — as consequent on
his many contributions to the public by means of the press, —
and as to be duly accounted for, by pecuniary return in the ono

INTRODUCTOKY MEMOI R.

Zl.

1. As Miss
^hcrson :

tions. in re-
have a cot-
re he might
5 and child
naster of a
he felt it to
be called a
i the prize
bled grasp.
3ut, and ut-
e " narrow
to look on

ax friends.
10s.; and
chiefly of

ented him
him, on
Im of £25.

or, at the
however,
y right to
Es(i., the

gs of gra-
them as

iequeiit on
press, —

in the ono

case, and in the others by grateful recollection and future liter-
ary services.

In a letter acknowledging, to the writer of this memoir, a
first instalment of the Literary Society's gift, — and written in
August, 1846, the poet says: "I have received your letter with
remittance, and need not say, I am very grateful to the Literary
Society for the distinguishing mark of their favor. I desire
you would, on some proper occasion, tender a poet's warmest
thanks. I was moved even to tears ; — the sum is thrice as large
as I supposed, and will be of great service just now. * * *
The balance could, I suppose, be forwarded by Post, early. I
shall have to lock my door o'nights, and be a careful man on
getting o'it. * * *■ I have not quite determined on any
very specific course yet, except of remaining here and getting a
living by the labor of my hands chiefly, as I find it most con-
ducive to health, and self-respect, and sweet cheerfulness. I
never feel so satisfied, whatever my faro, as when I have been
at work and rightly earned it. * * * I had high hope, if I
may be indulged the expression, of being something more than
I now wish; — of shining, it may be, in some more conspicuous
sphere, — but as I must depend on the small hand that traces
these lines, think it more prudent to venture nothing among
competitors of my own caste, ' for fortune's fickle favours.' I
have hope, but not enough. I could not support the vagueness
of the attempt, because I have been so unfortunate that doubt
usurps the place of confidence. Why I sometimes even forget
I am a bard, — and start, pleased of course, at the remembrance,
and return to my better mood with all the freshness of a first
love. I am not writing very sensibly here, — and being in haste
will close, and hand the letter to the waiting ' carrier.' "

The disappointments alluded to in the quotation had refer-
ence to unfulfilled expectations, relative to prospects of remu-
neration for some contributions to the press. By the venturing
among " competitors of his caste," he no doubt wished to have
understood, some hopes indulged of succeeding as a writer for
Magazines, and of publishing a volume of his poems with the

XII.

INTRODUCTOUV MKMOIU.

: i ■'

view of pecuniary profit. Ho might well consider such attempts,
at that time, as vague and hazardous. He purchased a lot of
land, however, and commenced building. Hc^ sat down, and
as many other speculators had done bel'ore and have since, be-
gan figuring up his et^tiniates and prospects, imagining his figures
to be representatives of realities, and believing, ap[)arently, in
the popular notion, that Arithmetical " figures cannot err.''
Very true, indeed, abstract Arithmetic is, in its principles, uner-
ring ; but, not unfrequently, a figure insinuates into a problem,
which has no business there, and sets the result deplorably
askew ; so, the Arithmetic of representing hopes and supposi-
tions and appearances by numerical figures — and reckoning
accordingly, because of the certainty that two and two make
four — have been sadly abundant in errors, and consequent
disappointment and loss. Thus poor McPherson totted up
what his cottage could be furnished for, what the outlay on
field and garden would amount to, and what return might be
Anticipated ; — but, alas ! the expenditure was more sure than
the gains —and the house remained unfinished, and the expect-
ed harvest ungathered.

His hopes, concerning building a home and the happy results
of such an achievement, were soon overshadowed by gloom and
despondency. The money with which he was furnished, though
very opportune, and though seemingly a large sum to the reci-
pient, was soon nearly expended in paying some small debts,
and in purchase of materials and providing for other prelimi-
naries.

A letter dated 1 2th December, about four months subsequent
to that just quoted from, gives evidence of the sad change that
had come over his feelings and prospects. Jt indirectly com-
plained of delay, in reference to expected advice concerning
publication or sale of some of his poetic writings. Advice
could not easily be given : to damp or extinguish hope, would
be an ungrateful task indeed ; and profitable sale or publica-
tion, at that time, was out of the question. The letter then
proceeded as follows : "I am sorry to say that matters do not

■h attempts,
sed a lot of
down, and

since, 1)0-
[ his fin'urcs
)arcntly, in
mnot err.''
iples, uncr-
a problem,
deplorably
id supposi-
L reckoning
i two make
consequent

totted up
! outlay on
n niight be
; sure than
;he expeet-

,ppy results
gloom and
led, though
to the reci-
aiall debts,
ler prelimi-

subsequent
ihange that
rectly com-
coneerning
[s. Advice
ope, would
)r publica-
letter then
ters do not

INTRODUCTORY MEMOIR.

prosper with me as I anticipated. My house is in a very unfit
condition for use ; and my health, injured by two months of
severe exertion, has broken down, giving but little hope of
early or late recovery. Want, and disease, the precursor of
want in my case, have embittered life, and now that I have
been so kindly, so generously, assisted by friends, to whom I
cannot adequately express my gratitude, my prospects are
scarcely improved. I had so little, and owed so much, that
what was left hardly authorized my building a house for my
family ; but I saw no other course, especially as friends would
urge this, and I have purchased a spot of land and begun a
small house. Health to enjoy, and strength to toil, are, how-
ever, withheld, and while some may think it all right, I dare
not look at the aspect presented, and fear I shall soon be more
completely in the grasp of misfortune than ever before."

So the poor Poet went on, making efforts towards the com-
pletion of the Cottage, and towards profitable employment of
his pen ; but disappointment followed disappointment, and the
disasters dreaded soon settled around their victim. He had
offered to contribute to the Provincial Press, and had made some
small arrangements which were not punctually abided by, on
the part of others. This caused pain of mind and pecuniary
difficulty. Losses and gifts are not to be judged solely by
amount. To the poor, small affairs are great. The widow's
two mites were declared more, under circumstances, than the
munificent gifts of those who cast in of their abundance. So the
small deficits were great to the poet. Literary remuneration
hy publishers in a new country, however, is not to be judged
by the standard of old and rich communities. The profits in
the former cases are comparatively small ; the custom to pay for
occasional literary contributions is but sparingly recognized^
and the capital employed is frequently absorbed in the common
routine of establishments, to the practical exclusion of extra ef-
forts of much consequence. McPherson might be well pardoned
for not reasoning so ;— encouragements from respectable sources
were reckoned on as something certain, and the absence of

XIV.

INTRODUCTORY MEMOIR.

realization amounted to severe infliction. In a letter written,
apparently, towards the close of the year 1844, he complains
of repeated disappointments. He says, " After wasting months
on such things as ' Longings for Spring,* I have received but
£l 15s. 6d." Subsequent to allusions concerning difficulties so
caused, he remarks : " Were it not for the kindness of others
who can receive no other return than that of gratitude, and a
little pleasure from my poetry, I could wish that I had never
written a single stanza." He meant of course, as a matter of
pecuniary consideration ; for, in other respects, love of verse
would be its own reward to him. He then proceeds: "the
sorrow which such things occasion me is not to be described. I
am too sanguine, and too sensitive to live in such a world, and
am fast wearing out of it." Poor fellow : his case reminds of
that of a tropical plant, requiring genial sun and rich soil, but
struggling against cold and aridity, — putting forth spasmodic
efforts at blooming, — yet declining steadily, and disappearing
early from the uncongenial scene.

Subsequent to some explanations, he says : " I have begun a
small house, which we call Fairy Cottage, as it is near a stream
or river bearing that epithet. The walls are yet unshingled ;
the shingles, glass, etc., yet unpurchased, — while the expense,
thus far, and the support of my little family, with my sickness,
have left me nothing to complete it. I hope to be able to re-
sume school-teaching, but my health failed me in the fall, and
living in an unshingled house has not helped it." Such was his
sad experience : physical weakness, an unfinished place of resi-
dence, blighted prospects, — and his hope, the resumption of
the poorly paid toil of school-keeping in a rural district.

How different was all this, from the ideal of love and poetry
in a cottage ; poetry indeed was cultivated, and family love,
contrary to the cynic adage, did not " fly out of the window
when want came in at the door," but in what sad contrast was
the unfinished, unsupplied house, to the home with woodbine-
lattice and abundant hearth, which poets delight to picture.

INTRODUCTOBY MEMOIR.

If.

er written,
! complains
^ing months
iceived but
ifiiculties so
s of others
ude, and a
had never
a matter of
re of verse
eeds: "the
jscribed. I
world, and
reminds of
ich soil, but
1 spasmodic
isappearing

ve begun a
ar a stream
unshingled ;
le expense,
ly sickness,
able to re-
he fall, and
uch was his
lace of resi-
umption of
'ict.

and poetry
amily love,
he window
jntrast was
I woodbine-
)icture.

Referring to circumstances under which his verses were writ-
ten, he says : " if I had had an education, I might have written
more and better. I was obliged to fashion my own implements,
and discover my own materials for poetry. * * * I have
groped in obscurity and sorrow, and now that I am outworn by
the strife, I only wish to rest in the grave."

Such painful particulars as the foregoing, have to be given,
as a means of judging concerning the poet's life, and of esti-
mating many parts of his writings. The letter goes on, to
express fears that an erroneous judgment might be formed
of his literary character after his departure, to refer to the
circumstances by which that character was afiected, and to
anticipate " a brief biographical notice," as introductory to his
published poems. He then says : " All that I can hope for my
poetry is, that it may servo to direct others, destined to strike
the harp of Acadia with less feeble hands."

He might have added the hope, that his poetry and his story
would afford warning also, against making what should be con-
sidered an elegant recreation an absorbing business of life ; —
against depending on very doubtful resources; — against the
morbid concentration of mental effort, to the effect of leaving
the body feeble and shattered ; — against that over-indulgeiice
of sensitiveness and imagination, which results in something
very different from the well balanced mind and well braced
form, that constitute health.

In a letter, dated May, 1845, written during a period of sick-
ness and depression, he says: "I expended the moL.jy, so
opportunely received from friends in Halifax, on a little pro-
perty, for the sake of having something like a home, and the
luxury of a garden, and a house with two rooms, but the failure
of my health, with the failure of means to proceed, has left
me in no very enviable situation. My debts left me but a
small sum to begin with, and I was obliged to borrow ; — the
sum I asked was kindly sent, and no security of any kind re-
quired. I am not at liberty to mention the name of this good
Samaritan, who gives me free choice of time to re-pay." Subse-

XVI.

INTRODtJCTORT SfBSIOnR.

quent to remarks relative to his severe indisposition, he again
refers to his building efforts. Having mentioned privations to
which himself and his wife had been subjected, he says : " If I
had had stubborn health, matters had been different, but we
have patience with our lot, and would be content for it to be no
better in this respect, so that we could have our little cot more
comfortable. The wood material is paid for, — I had to sell a
cow and a few sheep to help me out, and my work procured
some. I bought five dollars worth of sashes, and made the rest
myself, making first the sash tools to work with. I have twenty-
four acres of good land, — some in grass, wood pasture, and aa
acre in oats ; this, with house, in money and other means, cost
£60 to £70," Affecting allusions to oppressive sickness, to
deep despondence, and to occasional glimmerings of hope, fol-
low. Part of his debt consisted of medicines, and continuation
of these was apparently required for alleviation or cure.

They moved into the cottage early in December. The walls
were unshingled, and therefore wretchedly unfit as a shelter
from the frosty wind* of a Nova Scotia winter. " Quilts were sus-
pended along the walls, to turn aside the chilling wind, and to
stop the drifting snow, which would else have fallen on his bed."
There the little family remained until the first of May, — when
the health of husband and wife was broken down, and they
were removed to the home of his father-in-law at Brookfield ;
whence he went, in July, to that other house, which is of such
gloomy but enduring character.

The story is soon told, or intimated rather, but how many
and melancholy were the particulars of its stages ; and how
keen the slow-moving pangs which the delicately sensitive
mind and frame experienced. What sad indications of life are
suggested in such a narrative ; — what illustration of Society in
various phases, relative to isolation, apathy, and misapprehen-
sion. At the very moment when poor McPherson was agonized
as to how he might maintain himself and his little family, when
he was exhausted in mind and in body by sickness and priva-
tion, when he gazed mournfully on the departure of long

INTRODUCTORY MEMOFR.

ZVU.

, he again
ivations to
lys: "If I
it, but w©
it to be no
2 cot more
I to sell a
c procured
le the rest
ve twenty-
re, and an
ueans, cost
Ickness, to

hope, fot-
)ntinuation
fre.

The walls

a shelter
s were sus-
nd, and to
n his bed."
ay, — when

and they
Jrookfield ;

is of suck

low many
and how
sensitive
of life are
Society in
apprehen-
agonized
lily, when
md priva-
B of long

cherished hopes, and contemplated his own apparently near
linal departure, and the dependant state of those whom he best
loved, at those very moments of gloom and pain, — smiles and
commendations were elicited, in many comfortable abodes of
the land, by melodies in the newspapers of the day over the
familiar signature of J. M. The reader knew not that the
head and heart whence the verses emanated throbbed with
anxiety, that the pen by which they were indited trembled in
the feeble hand, — and so they smiled and passed to other plea-
sures, while he looked aghast at surrounding circumstances,
and, amid deep earthly gloom, essayed to gird himself for the
Valley of the Shadow of Death. Such frequently is life. How
thankful should those be who are shielded from the keener
inflictions; — how sympathising those, whose experience is that
of comparative ease and sunshine.

DEPARTURE.

The final scene of poor McPherson's troubled life, may now
obtain some brief attention. He died on the 26th July, 1845,
in the twenty-eighth year of his age. The brevity of his earth-
ly experience, and the suffering it included, should be duly
considered in forming an estimate in reference to the number
and merit of his poems. He had scarcely attained tlie age of
maturity as a writer, and had enjoyed little indeed of the easy
leisure supposed requisite for elegant composition, when he was
called to that rest which hushed at once the discords and the
harmonies of earth.

The last stage of the poet's pilgrimage had much to call forth
interest and sympathy. He was delicately sensitive to life and
its rational enjoyments; — to the beauty of natural objects; to
the ties of friendship and home ; he had indulged hopes of fame
and competence; but he now became keenly aware that his
earthly struggle was about to close, and to close in almost total
earthly discomfiture. The battle of humble ambition, of
bumble independence, had been fought and lost. He yielded

XVlll.

I^'TRODUCTORY MEMOIR.

'if'

'il!

gracefully and piously, however, — commending those he loved
to the friends who might wivsh to evince respect for his memory ;
and committing his soul to that inscrutable Providence, which,
although sometimes allowing sore hosetmcnt, and the teaching
of wisdom by defeat, is always abundantly merciful in rcfi-rjnce
to the higher consolations and triumphs. And so, .?ustainf d by
taith and hope, McPherson went calmly down into the dark
vestibule of immortal light and life.

Abundant evidence is afforded by McPherson's writings, that
he had made himself familiar with the hour which many try to
forget. In a letter dated 1844, he says: "I may not hope to
live long at the best, and would use the remaining light to some
purpose. Should I decease belbre the appearance of my
volume, I trust my friends would call for its publication, and
my countrymen afford it liberal encouragement in behaif of
my family," His volume had to wait about seventeen years
after decease without publication, — and yet a kind Providence
has permitted the fulfilment of that part of the poet's dying
wishes. May we not hope that the "liberal encouragement"
also, will be realised ?

In May, 1845, the month dear to poets, and which McPherson
frequently made a subject of his verse, he wrote thus, to Miss
Sarah Herbert, who also departed in her youth: "For some
weeks past life has seemed ebbing rapidly to its close. * * *
I am as little fit to sit and write as can be, but am sitting up to
rest, and will try to finish this, lest I fail of power another time.
Probably I am dying, — I think 1 am, and a week or month may
bring you intelligence of my death. I worked very hard, for
my strength, in the fall and first part of winter, and just got
under way to get along rather more comfortably than before,
when I was laid up by severe illness. * « < J i,fish to make
another effort for life; but I trust I may ha r^. : more xud
more enabled to submit to the will oi \jtod, whose favour,
whose pardoning mercy and sustaining grace, I strive earnestly
to implore. I am almost unable to read ; the books are, the
Bible, and sermons in the Christian Monitor, by the greatest.

INTRODUCTORY MKMOIP..

XIS.

he loved
memory ;
e, which,
teaching
ivt'rr'iiico
aiuf (1 by
the dark

ings, that
any try to
t hope to
it to some
le of my
ation, antl
behait' of
een years
'rovidence
et's dying
agement "

lePherson
s, to Miss
For some

* # *

ting up to

Ither time.

[onth may
hard, for
just got

[n before,

to make

lore ..iid

favour,

|earnestly
are, the
greatest.

probably the best, men of the age: Chalmers, Hall, Thorp, Jay,
Stephens, James Parsons, and others. ]My mental power is, at
times, almost nothing; 1 cannot think, — 1 have tried to write
some, succeeding poorly. 1 wisla-d I had an opportunity of
seeing some of your literati and tViend;^; but a kind farewell to
you all; I shall think of you often, as I have done, and pray
God to bless you. * * * My wife, hitherto my chief nurse,
is very poorly. Poor Irene ! she is like an angel of mercy to
me, — her strength of mind, her sympathy and support, are all
that I have to sustain me of earth, — but this too is of heaven ;
rnd the All-beneficent still helps me to call upon his name, and
seek him earnestly. May He, for Christ's sake, save me, and
take me to himself now, or give me strength to serve him with
singleness of heart. Pray for me. * * * I have been out
but twice, a few minutes, since the ides of March. The people,
particularly the christian, show me much kindness. They plant
for me to-morrow. We have commenced a garden."

What expressive writing is this ; how like the sobbing of a
breaking heart, — and yet a heart cherishing gratitude, afi'ection
and fortitude, in its hour of faintness.

Relative to some friendly allusions, concerning a monumental
memorial, — he says: "No stone should be given me when I am
dead. I may have done something which may, r may not, call
for some demonstration of feeling, — let it be exerted in behalf
of the wife who has cheered and nursed me, — by the aid ot
whose kind love I have been animated to write my best poems,
— to persevere in continuing to write at all for these three
years past. Pardon egotism. — I learn that you also have been
visited by the hand of disease ; I trust you are getting better
fast, — that you may live long to be a blessing to yourself and
others, and that your departure from earth may be your
entrance into heaven."

These and other extracts from his letters, tend to evince his
good lit< "ary taste, and his superior qualities of intellect and
moral principle.

XX.

INTRODUCTORY MEMOIR.

McPherson's death, as much of liis life, Avas marked by
Badness and loneliness, — but the melancholy particulars of boih
had merciful compensations.

The wife of his love, the subject of many of his verses, (vas
the patient attendant at his dying couch, ready, —

" To hear his sad sick tale, and with him pray, —
While life's last hours were wearing fast away."

In a letter concerning this memoir, she says, fluently and
well : •' I never for a moment doubted hi^ pure love for me.
'The last words which his voice uttered, as I bent over him,
were, ' Poor Irene.' He closed his eyes on me and earth. A
few tears rolled down his thin pale cheek, and he sank into a
calm sweet sleep, from which he never awoke until he awoke
in that happy land where sorrow and tears are unknown.
Through his last sickness, he was calm, patient, and resigned,
ever looking forward to that better rest. He often told me he
would like to be buried at the set of sun. I had that wish
fulfilled. His remains were consigned to the narrow tomb just
as the sun went out of sight."

The place of burial, alluded to in this quotation, was near
Lake Tupper; and had been chosen by himself. The banks of
the lake formed the scene of his courtship ; and as such is
subject of poetic reference in more than one of his verses. A
communication addressed to his wife, during his sickness, says:
"This is the dearest spot I have known on earth; I have passed
many happy, as well as sad, moments here. Let me be laid iu
the little grave-yard situated on the East side of the lake. This
will be your home ; you can visit my grave here oftener than
if in another place." How the sensitive heart clings to the
hope, that loving remembrance, and some kind attentions, will
survive earthly life, and will be evinced by some simple but
expressive observance. According to his wish he was laid at
rest on the hill-side whi(;h commanded a view that he loved
during most of his chequered pilgrimage.

INTRODUCTOUY MEMOIR.

XXI.

The poet's story, of love and sorrow, may well claim some
bnef delay, before commencing with his melifluous verse. And
surely a passing tribute of respect may be given to the truth-
fulness of a true woman, as demonstrated by the wife of the
poet. His consoler in solitude and sickness, — his patient and
ever ready amanuensis, — his refuge from earthly desertion
and despair, — the smoother of his dying pillow, — she now, so
many years after his decease, and when the wife of another,
encounters various difficulties and privations to have his last
wishes fulfilled : to have his poems published, leaving something,
if that may be, for the education of his children ; but whether
or not, and as beyond compare the chief object, to have them
published as a monument to his memory, — a realization of hope
indulged, when other hope had become estranged from his
mind; — as a pleasure and honour to those children, whose
welfare he yearned for, when earthly thought for himself had
been bidden a last farewell.

As the world goes it is something to have such evidence of
love and constancy; something to have such example of mutual
respect and affection under circumstances so painfully calcu-
lated to try both emotions ; — something, and much indeed, to
have such light in darkness as the narrative affords, — such
alleviation of sadness, — and such faith and hope concerning
unfading felicity beyond the changes and sufferings of this
world.

CHARACTERISTICS.

The mind is the true kingdom of the man, — and includes his
best or worst experiences. None of the localities of McPherson'a
sojourn appear to have presented attractions or opportunities
sufficient to yield contentment. He loved the free untamed
scenery of his native land ; — he was accustomed to admire the
solitary beauties of wood and lake ; and to wander, well-
pleased, over the bushy barrens of his neighbourhood. Ideal
regions, h(fwever, of some scholastic eminence, of literary fame,
of worldly competence and humble Loiuc i»leasures, to which

zxu.

INTRODUCTORY MEMOIR.

his mind frequently reverted, but which seemed inexorably-
barred from his experience, were apt to intervene, and to make
actual life still more gloomy by the contrast presented. The
indulgence of such moods may excite blame, because practical
heroism, a battling with adverse circumstances, and a working
out of humble contentment, might be more praiseworthy. But
for forming a correct estimate, Ave should recollect the delicate
health, the frequent disappointment, — and the honorable nature
of the ambition which induced complaint and despondency.
In his more gloomy mood he was inclined to langour and debi-
lity, or to painful excitement, ; but perhaps much of the mood
should be ascribed to the prevailing physical weakness.

He was very sensitive to slights or rebuffs, and a hasty satiri-
cal remark, or even a friendly criticism, could extremely depress
his mind, or rouse him to indignant and eloquent reply. On
the other hand, a kindly sympathy, a generous appreciation,
could impart a most sunny mood, and induce him to repeat his
favourite melodies in a quaint recitative voice, very unusual
and attractive. In some of his darkest hours, despair and
almost desparation beset the sufferer ; — in his brighter, a quiet,
complacent tone, and a child-like simplicity, gave a rare charm
to his company. Both states of mind, and various shades
between, are indicated in his poems.

An early friend of the poet, — (now a clergyman) the com-
panion with whom the painful accident, previously alluded to,
occurred, writes as follows, in a letter relative to this memoir :
" Though he was characterised by the keenest sensibilities, yet it
was only to the superficial observer that he appeared (what is
called) ' sentimental.' He had a manly and high appreciation
of what was pure and noble. * * Every where he was to me
the faithful friend as well as the entertaining companion. He
was most happy in the domestic circle, with the younger mem-
bers of the family around him. His ready wit and humour
were innocent and profitable. * * * Though he was far
removed from fanaticism, he looked on the religion of the
Bible as the one thing needful. * * In his friendly visits he

INTRODUCTORY MEMOIR.

xxm.

exorably
to make
ad. The
practical
working
hy. But
} delicate
)le nature
Dondency.
and debi-
the mood
s.

isty satiri-
}ly depress
eply. On
preciation,
repeat his
ry unusual
spair and
r, a quiet,
are charm
lus shades

) the com-
iUuded to,
s memoir:
ities, yet it
(what is
ppreciation
was to me
Itnion. He
igcr mem-
Id humour
ae was far
kon of the
Iv visits he

often carried manuscript poems in his pocket, and to those who
appreciated them he was fond of reading his productions.
Often have I listened with delight, when the other members of
his family had retired, and heard him as he chanted his rhymes
in mellfluous tones, like the cadence of the rivulet."

The friendly testimony afforded by this extract, is just, and
variously pleasing.

Another paragraph, in reference to McPherson's poems, from
the same letter, is worthy of quotation, thus :

"I have felt, and still feel, that had he been spared, he
would have occupied a large space in the literary world. As
it is, as far as I know, he has no superior in his native Pro-
vince, and, indeed, none in the British Colonies, as far as
his poetry is concerned. * * * His wreath of laurels will,
I trust, still be worthy of his noble ambition. * * * In a
new country like ours, where little but the elements of refined
cultivation exist, and the structure of society is still rough-cast,
—it was difficult for him to find even a comfortable poet's corner,
much more a drawing room of such elegant equipments and
pure air as would suit the sweet music of his lyre, and echo back
the intense delicacy of his sensibilities. * * Though not
fitted to encounter the ignorance, prejudice, and selfishness of
the world, we should be unjust in attributing to him a lack of
those higher principles which are calculated to purify our
atmosphere, and bring about that state of human aff*airs which
would be congenial to his own mind. This is one reason why I
wish to see his poems, or the best of them, published. It is not
a mere question of profit and loss to his friends, nor yet of
embalming his own name and genius in the minds of our people,
though these considerations are important; — but it is a question
of utility to the highest interests of society. * * His writings
will speak for themselves ; and, I believe, if published, will
constitute no unimportant part of our Provincial literature."

These, and other quotations from the letter alluded to, are
honourable to the mind whence they emanated, and the memory
which is there subject.

XXIV.

INTRODUCTORY MEMOIR.

•ilil^ll i

The poet's recreations were few and simple, and in accord-
ance with the general tenor of his mind. He loved to muse by
the fire-side or in the woods, conjuring up delicate fancies, and
studying the embodiement of these in graphic language and
fluent metre. Thus engaged he frequently took long walks,
occasionally carrying gun or fishing-rod, but much more as an
excuse for protracted solitary rambles than for any spoils of the
sportsman.

His religious feelings were rather subdued and medltational
than demonstrative. He could communicate his views freely,
in quiet conversation ; but he lacked general confidence, and
that readiness which is occasionally valuable, for taking part in
efibrts requiring some boldness and honest display. Several of
his poems, however, prove how often his aspirations assumed a
fervent devotional tone, and evince a prevailing influence of
religious principles and sentiment.

He wrote with most facility on the afiections, because in so
doing he gave utterance to his most frequent and cherished
emotions. He remarked to his wife, on more than one occasion,
" We make our world, — we will have it happy." The proposition
was, to a great extent, true, — and the accompanying resolution,
to a great extent, practicable ; — but, for realization, the maxim
required, a rare combination of prudence, wisdom, and perra-
verance.

While reading McPherson's poems, pleased with their grace-
ful melody, and improved by their morality, — and while
contrasting his writings with some points of his biography ; — we
should recollect that his example is by no means set forth, as in
all cases a model for imitation. He did not come up to the
standard of practical wisdom which he praised and respected.
The remark, however, is applicable to many writers, from the
time of Solomon and before. McPherson's estimate and plan
of daily li^e, — were unsuited to the times and circumstances
amid which his lot was cast. In the ancient days of minstrelsy,
such an enthusiast would have Baronial patrons, — and the
quaintly graceful recitation of his melifluous verse would have

I accord-
I muse by
icies, and
lage and
ig walks,
)re as an
)ils of the

ditational
vvs freely,
3nee, and
ng part in
Several of
assumed a
jfluence of

;ause in so
cherished
} occasion,
roposition
resolution,
le maxim
,nd perra-

eir grace-

nd while

3hy ; — we

orth, as in

up to the

respected.

from the

and plan

umstances

oinslrelsy,

-and the

ould have

INTRODUCTORY MBMOIB.

XXV*

been welcome in the hall of many a castle ; — with affluence or
competence at command, his daily walk would probably have
been one of much respectability and practical beneficence, dig-
nified by poetic recreations and labours ; — but in the utilitarian
nineteenth century, and for a poor man in the wilds of a new
country, a more stern course had to be studied, as the way to
peace and humble prosperity.

He pinet!, too constantly, for the Bard's vocation, when daily
concerns demanded rude and common-place employment ; he
devoted much of his time to the lyre, as if its products could be
readily and profitably bartered in the markets of the world, —
while such results were only practicable to a few of the masters
of sons. In the struggle with circumstances which were inci-
dental to such an experience, his mind, suited to gentle and
pleasing emotions, was subjected to a daily agony, and his
delicate frame broke down in the contest.

Others besides poor McPherson, have been sadly tried, by
adopting pursuits and following them pertinaciously, which were
not adapted to their requirements or circumstances or hopes.
The intellectual victory achieved, — or the possible good accom-
plished, or the worthy fame acquired, — may, indeed, to ardent
temperaments, make amends for many privations and much
suiTering ; but then the cost and the penalty, if accepted, should
be timely understood and duly considei'ed.

Notwithstanding the sad tenor of the story of McPherson's
life, the great law of compensation, previously alluded to, was
aptly applicable to his experience. The darker part of the
picture was not without some happy countervailing light. Dis-
appointed, harassed, yearning for objects beyond his reach,
suffering from hope deferred, and from impending and foresha-
dowing gloom, — from sickness, physical and mental i — he yet
had some resources far above mediocrity. He possessed ardent
sympathies, sincere affections, varied charities of disposition,
grateful recollections, solace of poetry, of friends, and of family
love, with abiding faith in goodness, and in the great Source of

good. Those best acquainted with human nature and social

jif.!!'

I!!

XXVI.

INTRODUCTORY MEMOIR.

history, — may readily admit, that in some aspects, he was much
more an object of complacency, than some, high in worldly fame
and -fortune, but irreligious, misanthropic, and at conflict with
themselves and with the (Creator's system and laws. The world's
estimate of human life is, occasionally, very erroneously formed ;
and the terms poor and rich, fortunate and unfortunate, might
be frequently transposed, — without detracting, however, from
the active sympathy with which true worth, struggling amid
difficulties, should ever be regarded.

McPherson might, surely, we may presume, if he were more
practically wise, have escaped much of the gloom that beset
his earthly path, and at the same time have secured the blissful
visions of a better world which were among the best compensa-
tions of his thorny path. But he has gone from the one, and to
the other ; — his life-struggle had some victories and trophies to
record, — his example was not without some beneficial influence,
and his memory and verse, in their elfects on popular sympathy
and improvement, — may yet fulfill some of his fondest hopes ami
best ambitions.

LOCALITIES.

Reference to a few localities connected with this biographical
sketch — given apart, so as not to break the narrative — may be
deemed not undesirable.

The town of Liverpool, where McPherson was born, is situ-
ated on the South-east shore of the South-west part of Nova
Scotia. It is about 100 miles from the capital of the Province,
and at the entrance of the Liverpool river, which, with a small
bay, or cove, seaward, forms its harbour. The town is long
and narrow, with a rocky basis. Its principal street has, during
summer, a pleasant, picturesque appearance, too often unpro-
vided for, relative to the country towns of the province. The
neat residences at each side have front areas, very agreeably
enbellished with flowering shrubs, and with chestnut, elm, lime,
and other fine shade-trees. The society of the place is consid-
ered distinguished for intelligence and respectability, — and its

INTRODUCTORY MEMOIR.

XXVII.

was much
)rldly fame
jiiflict T^vith
riie world's
jly formed ;
ate, might
ever, from
gling amid

were more
that beset
the blissful
compensa-
3ne, and to
trophies to
I influence,
• sympathy
I; hopes and

iographical
-may be-
am, is situ-
[•t of Nova
Province,
ith a small
(vn is long
las, during
ten unpro-
nce. The
agreeably
elm, lime,
) is consid-
', — and its

habits, at least in years of the past, were noted for steadiness,
good order, and moral enterprise.

About twenty-five miles North-west of Liverpool, is the settle-
ment of Brookfield, the poet's latter place of residence, where,
chiefly, his sorrows and his joys were experienced, and where
most of his poetry was written.

It is called the "Northern District of Queen's County."
Early explorers of the wilderness found promising tracts of
land in that direction, — and the first resident settler, William
Burke, took up his abode there in the year . This " father
of the district," as he was affectionately and respectfully called,
appears to have been eminently qualified as pioneer, in a land
which required resolution, patience, great industry, and abiding
faith. The character ascribed to him by cotemporaries and
their descendants, was that of an hospitable christian patriarch.
His success caused several to imitate his laborious enterprise,
and thus, slowly but steadily, the various settlements of
«' Pleasant River," " Caledonia," " Ilibernia," and others, were
founded. Though surrounded by granite barrens, the district
had lakes, and streams, and woods, and wild meadows, — and
many acres suitable for agricultural purposes, where patient
toil might look forward to competence and comfort. To realize
prosperity, however, serious difliculties had to be overcome.
The first settlers found themselves withojit roads, carts, mills, or
other usual aids to rural residence ; they were separated by
twenty-five miles of rugged wilderness, from the county town,
while bears and other untamed denizens of the primeval forest,
prowled about the " clearings." The people succeeded, how-
ever, winning lordship of the soil, not by the sword of maraud
or chivalry, but by axe, spade and plough, — and the prayerful
faith of peaceful heroism.

A monument to Mr. Burke's memory, evinces the grateful
appreciation of those who u'ofitted so extensively by his good
example, his kind acts, and his wise jounsel.

In this ''Northern District," John MePherson grew from
youth to manhood; and perhaps much extenuation of the appa-

xxviii.

XNTRODUCTORT MEMOIB.

if'i'l

rent neglect and harshness that pressed heavily on his mind,
might be found in the difficulty which bard-handed conquerors
of the wild would experience, in duly understanding the deli-
cate lad, who, in such a locality dreamed cf literary fame, and
made versification a serious business of life. But, assuredly,
the wise will value the elegant amenities, as well as the rude
essentials of society; — and now that another generation has
succeeded the men who toiled for lonely clearing and log-house,
a montjment to the poet, near that raised to the pioneer, would
be a gracious tribute to tht inemory of a gifted son of the dis-
trict, and an amiable and prudent acknowledgement of the
claims of refinement and the higher civilization.

" Fairy Lake," to which allusions appear in the poems, is
about fifteen miles from head waters of the Liverpool river, and
three below " Fairy Falls," which also furnishes a theme for some
verses. The lake has its designation from its Indian name,
'vhich includes the idea attached to the English word. Fairy, or
Witch. The banks of the lake are strewed with rocks of
comparatively soft material, on which are depicted, by a rude
process erf engraving, figures of ships, boats, men, and wild
animals of the forest. The Indian legend ascribed these figures,
which would seem so strangely fantastic in such a place, to the
creatures of their imagination, as the English peasant, in old
times, ascribed the richer tufts of herbage, which marked pas-
tures or woodlands, and called them "fairy rings," — circlets
caused by the

" Elves,
Whose midnipjht rcveb, by a forest side,
Or fountain, some belated peasant sees,
Or di-eams he sees, while overliead, the moon
Sits arbitress, and nearer to the earth,
Wheels her pale course."

Others, however, gave a more reasonable but still romantic
solution of the picture-writing of the rocks. Many say that the
French — when defeated at Port Royal, now Annapolis —
retreated to the coast in this direction, — and that resting for
awhile by the solitary lake, they inscribed those fanciful figures.

fc:

INTRODUCTORY MEMOIR.

XSIZ

his micd,
onquerors
; the deli-
fame, and
assuredly,
the rude
ration has
log-house,
jer, would
>f the dis-
nt of the

poems, 19
liver, and
e for some
an name,
Fairy, op
rocks of
>y a rude
and wild
figures,
ee, to the
t, in old
ked pas-
circlets

1 antic

that the

[apolis —

3ting for

figures.

to wile away a time that had many sad realities for them, and
to leave a memorial of their last wanderings in Ac '*a.

The Lily Lake mentioned in the poems, is a picturesque piece
of water in the vicinity of which McPherson taught school for
two years. It was so named by himself because of the magnifi-
cent white lilies which abounded in its creeks and shoals. The
scenery, no doubt, was often enjoyed during, —

" The teacher's pleasant walk from School,"

and his quiet figure may have frequently startled the cautiom
lOon, from i.Iie sunny surface of the water : "

" I long to see yon lako resume
Its brcoze-kiss'd azure crest, —
And hear the lonely wild-fowl boom,
Along its moon-lit breast."

A comparative infrequency of vivid description of natural
objects, in '' New World " literature, may be accounted for by
some local peculiarities. A country like Nova Scotia may have
many features of solemn dignified picturesqueness, and beauty,
— without presenting the salient points for poetry which " Old
World" scenery afl*ord3. The battlemented castle, the ivy-
mantled church, — the traditionary hall and grange, — have
well-recognized claims on fancy and memory ; — while the
primeval forests of the West, the wood-embosomed lake, — the
stream which lapses as it wills — brawling along the ravine, as it
did when the Indian was the only poet of the Continent — are
comparatively without the historic names and legends which
impart a pQpuliar charm and a kind of personal identity to
landscape. New world scenery, indeed, has fine capabilities
even in reference to poetic elements,— but, for due effect, it
requires to be treated on principles of rather a new school of
descriptive poetry ; — while old country parks, and lawns, and
bowers, and hills, are hallowed by what may be called heredi-
tary claims, and by ancestral song and picture.

XXX. INTRODUCTORY ME!kIOTR.

PARTICULARS OF THE POEMS.

A few observations, relative to some particulars of McPher-
son's writings, may tend to iiu'rease their interest. A picture or
a poem may have its value enhanced by direct association with
the history of tiie painter or the poet.

One of his longest poems, was entitled •' The Victim ;" it was
a somewhat disguised narrative of his own life. It is not
comprised in this collection, in consequence of its over-querulous
tone, and the severity of soni''^ of its personal reflections.

The verses now presented, evince, in many parts — besides
exact appreciation, fine car for melody, and an abiding moral
sense — unusual identification with persons and localities familiar
to the writer.

In the division, entitled ♦' Love of Nature," tlv lines which
are named " Walks in the Woods " are a free trar.seript of the
poet's feelings during his favorite rambles, rather than any
attempt at elaborate description or scene painting.

The scenery and associations of his daily life are exquisitely
alluded to, in the much admired " Longings for Spring," — and
himself is the " teacher," whose " pleasant Avalk from School,"
so much required more genial airs than those of declining winter.

The "Domestic and Social" poems, abound in breathings of
his sympathies and experience. To the manuscript of the
" Beautiful is Fading," is appended, by his own hand, the re-
mark, " Himself dying." What pathos does the piece derive
from the circumstance. How ditFerent would the lines appear,
as a mere fancy sketch, compared with their character as the
expression of sad realities of the time being.

The " Personal," relate, almost exclusively, to particular
scenes and incidents and associations of the writer's history.

The lines entitled " Sunshine and Shade " were composed on
the occasion of hia receiving a pecuniary tribute of respect from
Halifax friends.

The poem, however, to which reference in this place would be
more particularly made, is that entitled " Pleadings for Return."

IVTRODLTTOUY MEMOIR.

The poet's dark and liright moods may be supposed amply
illustrated in his verse, — but his most dark may require the
passing illustration which the linos just mentioned ullbrd.

If a memoir wi're to ho a euloiiv, sm'h rel'erenees mi<iht be
altogether snj)prossed, — but if it should be a true mental
portraiture, a candid dealing with readers, and a laithf'ul chap-
ter of hmnan life, supplying warnini«; as well as example, then
the more paintul phases have to be noticed, — yet not so as to
unduly preponderate, or to make the warning ol' morbid, rather
than of healthy, character.

Many gifted minds, not well balanced, not kept under due
control, or constitutionally eccentric or excitable, have at
particular junctures, experienced what half-frenzied emotions
signify, — when reason felt the sce[)tre almost dropping from its
grasp, and maintained some command by agonizing efforts; or
regained its sway after a blighting civil war within the breast.

During a paroxysm, induced by very delicate health, and
torturing circumstances, McPherson lost his selt-command,—
and his wild conduct caused his wife to seek temporary shelter
under her father's roof. While there he sent her a copy of the
verses mentioned. The wailing deprecation of these, the
earnest humble entreaty, the kindly allusions, serve at once to
exhibit his better qualities, and the distressing abberation to
which he had been subject.

The lines were intended to explain his own view of the
occurrence, and to be so used if thought desirable.

In this melancholy effusion, the tenderness, and high moral
perceptions, of the deeply-tried man, gleam out from surrounding
gloom, as moon-beams from the nmrky clouds of a tempestuous
midnight. In the lines are perceptible, more fine instinctive use
of appropriate poetic language, under the form of melodious
metre, than ai'e to be found in some voluminous collections called
poetry. The composition is curious as well as characteristic, in
exhibiting the workings of an ingenious and gifted mind under
extremely painful circumstances. What a contrast, also, does
the mood under which it was called for, afford, to that of the

XXXll.

INTRODUCTORY MKMOIR.

lines addrosaod to the same person under very different circum-
stances. This "will strongly appear by reference to verses
inscribed to •' lanthe," to "Irene," or those entitled "To my
W ife," " To my Sick Wife," and others, in which the prevailing
tone of the poet's mind respecting one who had numerous claims
on his alfeetion and esteem, is vividly expressed.

Ill many parts of the ver?e dcsionated " Devotional and
Reflective " the personal interest is prominent.

In the dulcet lines, entitled *' Dying in Spring," which are
found among the " Occasional Poems," and whose cadences
may be said to undulate as melodiously as waves of air from an
Eolian harp, — personal allusion is attached similar to that men-
tioned of " The Beautiful is Fading." In a letter previously
quoted from, the poor poet says : " I have no strength to copy
verses now, and have no amanuensis ; — I send you a corrected
copy of ' Dying in Spring,' and will tiy hard to have more
soon."

During a visit to Halifax, McPherson and a friend paused in
an afternoon ramble, to observe a party of boys who were
engaged sailing their miniature sloops and schooners in a pond
near the Horticultural gardens. The poet was challenged to
compose some lines on the occasion, but quietly declined. The
verses entitled *' Pastime," however, were found among his
manuscripts, evidently having as a theme, that scene of youthful
skill and gaiety.

Several other allusions, similar to the foregoing, might be
suggested by the poems, but these may suffice, as intimating the
personal association that prevails, and the interest to which it
may minister.

POETRY.

A few thoughts on Poetry in the abstract, may be considered
appropriate in a preface to a book of poems. Notwithstanding
the vagueness which some consider characteristic of the depart-
ment, — that which has distinct existence has distinct character-
istics, and these discovered and stated, give definition. We

may.

Poetry ?
its objec
petent jt
by anal;"
arrive at
strong,
tion, — ar
musical,
those late
exhibited
minute a
eloquentl
to the h(
demoniui

The tl
deservinn
appeal to

The tri
to please
writers al
in hand,
by the I
fidelity,
the scene
under th(
while sin
intervvea'
winter-e\
tunately,
the gene
demonstr
beauty ai
is rightly
governin

McPht

INTRODUCTORY MEMOIR.

XXZllI.

may, therefore, presume to enquire, very briefly, What is
Poetry? — What arc its most suitable themes V — What should be
its objects ? Searching for poetry, then, as endorsed by com-
petent judges, wo may ascertriin where the article h, — and then,
by analysis, what it is. Pursuing this course, may we not
arrive at the conclusion, that Poetry consists of the essentia'^ of
strong, just thought, — aided by fervid, well-regulated imagina-
tion, — and expressed in appropriate, and for the most part,
musical, language. By the essentials of thought we understand,
those latent constituents of idea and emotion, which, when duly
exhibited, make sublime and mysterious themes familiar, and
minute and common place, interesting. Thus, one discourses,
eloquently, of a daisy and a field-mouse, — and another brings
to the hearth and the window-sill, glowing thoughts of Pan-
demonium, Paradise and licaven.

The themes of poetry, surely, are those numerous subjects
deserving of eloquent thoughts and melodious words, which
appeal to the fancy, the affections, the emotions.

The true objects of poetry, doubtless, are, to arouse, to soothe,
to please and to improve. Accordingly, in the better works of
writers alluded to, we find a material and a moral beauty, hand
in hand. Milton paints with equal force, the garden planted
by the Lord, the strife of angels, and the triumph of pious
fidelity. Shakspea?'e, in his purer moods, makes his virtues walk
the scene, as vividly as do his ladies and knights. Burns, when
under the best influence of his muse, teaches charity and piety,
while singing of hill-sides and cottage-hearths; — and Cowper
interweaves gracious sympathies with summer rambles and
winter-evening enjoyments. One or two of those writers, unfor-
tunately, descended at times, from the moral eminence ; — but
the general tenor of the higher products of fine art, is to
demonstrate that an intimate union should subsist between
beauty and usefulness, — and that the sacred office of the artist,
is rightly considered, only when his desire to improve is as
governing as his wish to please.

McPherson's verse, wo presume, will bear the more sevei*©

XXXIV.

INTRODUCTORY MEMOIR.

;

test. His thoughts are new and just, — his words appropriate, —
his rhythm melodious ; — he treats of external nature, and of the
inner life of the home and the heart ; — his aspirations tend to
purify and exalt the reader.

A critical remark has been made, to the effect, that the true
poet does not seek themes of distant and general interest, and of
majestic character, — so much as those to which he has a near
relation, and of which he knows more and cares more than most
others ; and that he evinces peculiar perception of the beauty in
familiar objects which lie about his path. No doubt the mere
rhymer, and the true poet, are often distinguished, — by the
straining after grand effects in the one case, and in the other, by
the keen appreciation of beauty and interest as discoverable in
the more simple and comparatively humble subjects. We should
recollect, however, that there is an order of intellect that
instinctively aspires to the "heaven of heavens" of poetic etfort,
— as well as another which is most eflicient in those nearer topics,
that, while of earth, properly direct and lead to heaven.
McPherson had, evidently, the sympathies which distinguish
the latter class. He seldom attempted the distant and obscure ;
the flowers of the locality, the stars seen from his cottage
window, the friends of his counsel, — the pleasures and pains of
his lot, the fears and hopes which excited his own breast, suggest
much more frequently topics of his verse, and are treated with
much more clearness, freedom and etlect, than abstract themes.

The originality of McPherson's poems may be judged by
taking some of his themes and considering how similar subjects
would have been worked out by other writers, or how the reader
himself might be inclined to treat them. Take for instance
" Walks in the Woods" : What sun-glimpse and broad-shade,
and green vista, and shut-in nooks, and figures of deer and bird
and woodman, would be suggested to most minds by the theme ;
— and then see, for better or worse is not the question, how
McPherson has treated it. What simple and delicate allusions
^e makes to the more unobtrusive particulars of the scene ; to
the flowers by the alder-shaded brooks, which smile up to the

m<
tv

INTKODUCTOKY MEMOIR.

XXXV.

'opriate, —
and of the
IS tend to

t the true
est, and of
lias a near
than most
beauty in
the mere
'.,— by the
i other, by
.'erable in
We should
jllect that
etie effort,
rer topics,
i heaven,
istinguish

obscure ;

cottage

pains of

, suggest

ated witli

t themes.

dged by

subjects
le reader

instance
id-shade,
and bird
c theme ;
ion, how
allusions
ienc ; to
p to the

meditative man ; — to the eternal bowers which the forest groves
typify; and to the. features of social and domestic life, which
generally obtain from him more than a passing tribute, what-
ever the inmiediate to{)ic may be.

His writings, as elsewhere intimated, illustrate, to an unusual
degree, the mood of the writer at the moment. They are
simple heart expressions, rather than ideal creations elaborated
by means of imagination and rhetoric. His verse, in many
parts, may appear deficient in that fascinating kind of descrip-
tion known by the term " Word Painting," but it abounds in
picturesque suggestion, illustrative of kindly sympathies and
moral or religious aspirations.

He pined for more cheerful circumstances, for domestic
comfort and quiet, for judicious and friendly advice, and for
educational opportunities, — believing that with these, his
Avritings would be much more worthy of the public regard.
Several of his poems were composed during indisposition, and
while harassed by fears of want, and by tantalizing memories
of hopes deferred, and of plans which had but very unsubstan-
tial foundation.

In preparing this brief biographical sketch, the presumption
was, not that its subject was very greatly exalted above his
fellows, and that therefore some public record of his life was
demanded, — but that he had claims on the memory of Nova
Scotia, as one who wrote much under the hope that he was
earning the title, " Bard of Acadia," and whose writings have
been to a good degree, acknowledged as giving right to that
distinction ; also, that in the comparative sadness and isolation,
and yet achievements of his experience, there were several
points to interest and instruct. A great writer has said,

" One touch of nature makes the wliole world kin,"

and poor McPherson's story had many touches of nature. The
history of one heart, having peculiar instincts and aspirations,
has interest for every other well constituted heart; the subject
of this memoir had a path very distinct from the common walks

XXXVl.

INTRODUCTORY MEMOIR.

of life, — his ambitions were those of Poetry, Education, and
kindred subjects. He experienced, with the sensitiveness of an
enthusiast, literary delight, worldly despair, supernal hope ; he
indulged ardent and constant affections; he cultivated sound
principles perseveringly, — and, therefore, as has been intimated,
a few pages telling Avhat he was, and how he lived, may be
deemed an appropriate accompaniement to the better memoir
of his own poetry.

ARRANGEMENT AND OBJECTS.

The Editor has taken the liberty of arranging the Poems in
different classes, supposing such a mode conducive to perspicuity
and interest. He has, also, for the same reason, divided them
into two Parts. The first Part, containing three of the classes,
includes those more immediately illustrative of the life, resi-
dence, and society of the Poet; — the other Part, also of three
classes, comprise the poems of more general character 'and
reference.

The arrangement was not without considerable difficulty, in
consequence of the state of much of the copy, and because
thoughts appropriate to various titles were found in single
poems. The principal characteristic, however, is taken, without
too careful reference to coincidence or uniformity.

A chief source of gratification derived from being instru-
mental in publishing the verses, is the belief in the mental
pleasure and moral profit that will arise therefrom. Another
source is, the consciousness that the publication is the fulfilment
of some of the last earthly wishes of the departing poet; — and
certainly another may be found in the realization of the long-
deferred but never relinquished hope of the '• Irene " of the
volume, one so faithful to old memories and duties.

A collection of comparatively brief articles on various sub-
jects, may be of interest and usefulness in its way, and for
leisure moments, — as is the more pretending and important
work for more severe study. The latter may be a mentor for
counsel and guidance ; the former, a more equal companion,

atlon, and
ness of an
hope ; he
Lted sound
intimated,
1, may be
;r memoir

Poems in
•erspicuity
;ded them
le classes,

life, resi-

of three

icter and

[Tieulty, in
i because
in single
a, without

ig instru-
le mental
Another
fulfilment
let ; — and
the long-
'•" of the

ious sub-
and for
oiportant
3ntor for
upanion,

n5"^noDrcTORY memoir.

ixxvii.

with some claims also, as a means of valuable improvement
AVith such view, the volume is respectlully commended to that
Public which formed the poet's world ; which was to him such
an object of solicitude, aud on which rested so many of his
cherished earthly hopes.

Introductory to the poet's own portraituro of his mind, in his
verse, and as a means of enhancing the pleasure with which his
poems will be read, — a glance may be taken at the man, as he
appeared more than seventeen years ago. John McPherson
was of flelicate frame, — with cast of countenance, mild, sad, and
thoughtful. His general manner was that of one not inquisitive
or curious, — but rather abstracted, and influenced by some pre-
vailing mood, or some recollected or imagined objects. — Like
the ancient minstrel, he was evidently well pleased at due
opportunity for repeating his compositions to an attentive circle.
He appeared to much advantage, seated by the friendly fire-
side, the seniors of his audience kindly sympathetic, the juniors
attracted and observant. So circumstanced, he gave delightful
proof of the heartiness and good faith of his poetic feelings, —
repeating verse after verse, with deliberation, clearness, and
quaint musical cadence, — and accompanying the recitation with
illustrating comments, marked by simplicity and good taste. At
such times a chetirful serenity would be imparted to the poet
himself, — and a kind of old-world romantic charm, to the even-
ing hour.

In the brief memoir now presented, are some intimations
of McPherson's life and character, — let his poems be opened
with some of the better sympathies which dictated them. They
surely invite kind and friendly, rather than critical, audience ;
— they address those, chiefly, who are willing to be pleased with
praiseworthy efibrt, — and to be improved by the more gentle
wisdom, that should ever accompany, and may so materially
enhance the value of, pastoral melody and picture.

July, 1862. ^ J^'fe. TJ

X 7^ ^-y y ' S.^ /^i^ ^^^^Cv/

oAetA^

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Intr
Inci
Dep
Cha
Loci
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Moti

Intr
Wal

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Twi
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Voi
Spri
Ma_j

y OBEX.

MEMOIR.

Page.
Introductory Remarks, . . , j

Incidents of Life, jy

Departure, j^yjj

Characteristics, xxi

Localities, xxvi

Poetry, xxxil

Arrangement and Objects, xxxvi

Title, Part I, 1

Mottoes, 2

POEMS.

LOVE OF NATURE.

Introductory Remarks, 3

Walks in tho Woods, No. 1, 5

•' " " No. 2, ' ' y

" " " No. 3, '9

Mom, jQ

Twilight, 12

Evening, 13

Night, 14

Longings for Spring, Ig

Voice of Spring 19

Spring, 20

May, ' 22

Xlii INDEX.

Page,

Wild Flowers, 24

Tlie May Flower, 25

Summer is Coming, , . 26

Summer Morning, 27

Autumn, 29

Autumnal Musings, .... .... 31

Winter, 32

Scenes, 33

Fairy Falls, 34

Notes, 38

DOMESTIC AND SOCIAL.

Introductory Remarks, 39

Evening Thoughts, No. 1, 41

" " No. 2, 42

" " No. 3, . . , . . . 43

" " No. 4, 44

" " No. 5, ....... 45

Winter Evenings, 46

The Bride of Beauty's Bower, 48

The Beautiful is Fading, 49

Minstrelsy, 50

The First Fond Hopes, 51

The Sick Room, 53

Sympathy, 56

Maternal Duty, 5 57

Sing to me, 59

The Poor Man, 60

Counsels, 62

Dying in Spring, . . 63

When shall I again Behold Thee, 64

To a Pupil, 66

Charity, 68

The Pilgrim Sleeps, 70

Notes, 71

PERSONAL.

Introductory Remarks, 73

Address to A. M. G., . . . , . . . .75

]

ESl.3

INDEX,

xlin

Page_
. 24

25
. 26

27
. 29

31
. 32

33
. 34

39
41
42
43
44
45
46
48
49
50
51
53
56
57
59
60
62
63
64
66
68
70
71

Page,

To Samuel Elder, 80

Winter, 82

To Irene, 85

To lanthe, . . 86

To My Sick Wife, 87

Sonnet to lanthe, 89

Pleadings for Return, 89

To Laura, 94

To a Student of Acadia College, 97

Lament, 98

Hope in Gloom, 100

Possessions, 102

The Invalid, 103

Compensations, 105

Memory, 107

Anticipating June, 108

Sunshine and Shade, . . . » . ... 110

Why my Song is sad, Ill

Take back the Lyre, 113

A Lucid Interval, ......... 115

Forget Me,

^ Forget

Thee.

117
117

The Light of thy Sunny Eye, 118

I would I were a Child Again, 119

The Buds have Burst First, 119

One Day Nearer, 120

122

123

124

126

Departing,
To my Wife,
The Wish.

Notes,

DEVOTIONAL, &c.

Title, Part 2, , .... 127

Mottoes, Part 2, 128

Introductory Remarks, 129

zliv

INDEX.

Praise, 131

Worship, 132

Praise and Prayer, 133

Prayer Meeting Melody, 134

Sabbath School Hymn, 135

The Compensation, . . . * . . . .135

Hope, . . .136

The Rest, , ... 137

Heavenly Guidance, 138

Bereavements, 138

A Night Thought, 139

Mourner, 140

Besignation, 141

Earth, 141

Earthly Joy, 143

Votary of Pleasure, 144

To a Christian Friend, 146

What we shall Be, 148

Hebrew Melody, 149

Wasted Gifts, 151

Our Lot, 152

Reproof, 153

Rtcovery, 154

Joy and Innocence, 155

Mortal and Immortal, 156

Providence and Grace, 157

Christian Sympathy, . . . . . . . .158

The Soul, 159

So Live, 160

Invitation, 161

Pilgrimage, 163

Pilgrim, 164

The Passing BeU, 165

The Blessed, 166

Enquiry, 1C7

On Zion's Fill, 168

Harvest, . . • 169

The Present Help, 170

INDEX.

xlv

Pag«
. 131

132
. 133

134
. 135

135
. 136

137
. 138

138
. 139

140
. 141

141
. 143

144
. 146

148
. 149

151
. 152

153
. 154

155
. 156

157
. 158

159
. 160

161
. 163

164
. 165

166
. 1C7

168
, 169

170

rage.

Probation, 172

Oh, Give the Glorious Spirit Wings, 173

Earthly Happiness, 174

True Happiness, 175

Prayer, 177

Praise, 178

Solicitation, 179

Sorrow may her Vigils Keep, 179

Whom have I but Thee, 180

Neglected Mercies, 181

The Life Beyond 182

The Better World, 183

Notes, 184

TEMPERANCE.

Introductory Remarks, 185

The Praise of Water, 187

The Effort, 196

S^.ng of the Freed,. 197

Right Perseverance, 199

Temperance, 200

A Monarch, 200

The Moderate Drinker, 201

The March of the Drunkards, 203

Ilemonstrance, . 205

The Field, 206

Abjure the Bowl, 207

The Progress of Temperance, 208

Temperance and Peace, 212

Notes, 213

OCCASIONAL.

Introductory Remarks, 215

Cheerfulness, 217

Shun the Path of Foolish Pleasure, 218

Changes, 220

Zlvi INDEX.

Page.

Nature's Lessons, 221

Visions, 222

Night Thoughts, 223

The Evening Shades of Life, 225

Beholding the Promised Laud, 227

So Brief is Life, 229

The Prisoner of the Bastile, 231

Dream, 233

Invocation to Sleep, 234

Lost at Sea, 235

The Shipwrecked, 237

Mariner's Song, 238

The Retired Sailor, 239

To the Mariner, 240

Mariner's Return, 241

Lines for the Ladies, 242

" " " . 244

Separation, 246

Vanished not Lost, 247

Benevolence, 248

The Yellow Leaf, ^ . . . 248

Daily Mercies, 250

Notes, f . 251

General Note, 252

Page.
221

. 222
223

. 225
227

. 229
231

. 233
234

. 235
237

. 238
239
240
241
242
244
246
247
248
248
250
251
252

PART L

nrotvoura iconom ■wtitlsv:

"LOVE OF NATURE,"
"DOMESTIC AND SOCIAI,"

" PERSCNAI."

'• For I have loved the rural walk, through lanes
Of grassy swarth."

" Sure there is need of social intercourse,
Benevolence and peace, and mutual aid.'

" Peace to the memory of a man of worth,
A man of letters and of manners too."

LOVE OP NATUKE.

les

By the phrase " Love of Nature," as used to designate a collection
of verses, we understand. Love of A'atural Scenery : appreciation and
admiration of landscape, — or of particular appearances of natural
objects. This sympathy, in verse, is of different orders and degrees
of manifestation. With some it amounts to an excitement, a passion ;
— ^with others to a pleasing consciousness merely ; — and with others
neither the pleasure nor the consciousness is more than dimly recog-
nized. Some again are deeply attracted by the glimmer of the
evening star, — by the moon walking in brightness, — by an um-
brageous tree, or a blooming flower, — who fail to appreciate,
except languidly and vaguely, the charms of wood-land, lake, and
varied field, as spread out in combination and perspective ; — while
< " ers, with u sense of design, of composition, of the higher claims

outline, light and shade, and colour, — luxuriate in the landscape,
with but comparatively feeble taste for the isolated beauty of detached
parts.

The aggregate and the particular appreciation, the high and the
low degree, of the elegant sense of natural picture, might be illus-
trated by quotations from much-lauded poets; — some exhibiting
exquisite instincts relative to the essentials of graphic force and
beauty ; — and some, of equal ability in other departments of verse, —
feeble, vague, and dull, in attempts at translating scenery into words.

Tiie poems which follow may not be of the more comprehensive
order of word-painting; but neither are they of the vague class.
They belong rather to the minute and suggestive, than to the grand
and definite ; but they evince tine susceptibilities and good taste ; —
they contain just thought, appropriately expressed, and in many
parts, might compare more than favorably, with pictorial efforts of
some widely celebrated pens.

POEMS.

WALKS IN THE WOODS.— No. I.

(NotoL)

The simple fiowera of budding May,—

In simple charms arrayed !
Yet love I passing well to stray

Where they adorn the glade.
O'er sunward slopes in forest nooks,

O'er meadows green and gay.
And down by alder-shaded brooks

That murmur on their way.

They smile up to my human face

With quiet looks of love,
And bless my spirit with the grace

Of sweet thoughts from above.
'They are of heaven — those lovely flowers

That lend the earth their dyes
To type the beauty of the bowera

Eternal— >ia the skies.

MCPHERSON S POFM.:

Much hath lie lackeJ — the lonely man
Who hath not turned to flowers

For solace in the trial-span
Of weary, vexed hcurs.

Much hath he lacked who hath not strayed
In spring time to behold.

The Mayflower in the wildwood shade.

The violet and the gold.

!!ii|'

The snow-drop sweetly less than tliese.

Comes in the same glad time,
To woo the first adventurous bees

That try Acadia's clime.
But, though so small and frail a things

It hath a mystic voice.
An odorous Eden-scented wing.

That bid the world rejoice.

Go forth, O man ! at sunny morn,

Bright noon or sunset ov«,
That flowers may make thee less forlorn

And less inclined to grieve.
And if the simplest forest gem

Can wake no heartfelt tone,
I deem thee poor with diadem

And proud Imperial throne.

! I'

For me — a bard — the love of flowers

Is deep within my soul.
And blooms in dark despo^iding hours^

?o make my spirit whole.

'^r

WALKS IN THE WOODS.

It dwells among the thousand things

I hoard with miser care,
And fans my fevered brow with wings

Refreshed in Heaven's own air.

What marvel if I prize them, then,

And love o'erwell to stray
Beside the brooklet in the glen

From noon till eve in May ?
The bondsman hath his truant hours,

I, who am free, have mine.
And give them wings where wildwood flowers

3Iake earth a holy shrine.

O teach the young — the whole of heart—

To nurse the love of flowers,
Or cultured by the pride of Art,

Or found in forest bowers, —
Not for their loveliness alone.

Their influence on the air,
But for the deep inbreathing tone

"\Yith which they soothe our care.

WALKS IN THE WOODS. — No. H.

I come, ye lovely wild-wood j^roves,
Where placid contemplation roves

And breathes untroubled air ;
I come to woo your genial sweets,
To wander in your green retreats,

And lose the sense of care.

ucpherson'3 poems.

I turn to you from human guile

That wears the mask of friendship's smile —

I turn from human ways, —
Because man's dark self-seeking fills
His fairest, happiest haunts with ills

That should not cloud his days.

Unformed i ■) brook the vulgar strife,
And heartlerisness of worldly life,

I court your silent gloom —
Where Thought may nurse, without annoy,
The soothing se-^se of native joy —

The soul's inherent bloom.

Ill'-:

; I

Receive me to your fostering arms —
Surround me with your varied charms

Of birds and streams and flowers ;
And bless me with the sweet repose
That crowns the simple thoughts of those

Who love your leafy bowers.

Here, in the ancient forest maze.
Remote from Mammon's specious ways,

And wandering at my will,
Herbs, flowers, and trees, shall be my friends,
And birds and streamlets make amends

For much of earthly ill.

Yet, give me here a kindred tie —
Affection's sympathetic eye.
And kind consoling tone ;

! I

WALKS IN THE WOODS.

For though the multitude are cold,
And anxious most for sordid gold,
I would not live alone.

The heart — the heart is human still,
And yearns for trusting love to fill

Its frequent, aching void ;
Unless partaken with our kind.
The sweetest joys of sense and mind

Are not enough enjoyed.

Then will I seek, repose from strife.
The tender ministries of life,

And Peace, the timid Dove,
In one still calm, one dear rel/eat.
The circle of my cottage sweet —

The home of wedded love.

ds,

SEQUEL TO^WALKS IN THE WOODS.

In yon low|cot far down the dell,
My babe andjmy babe's mother dwell

Aloof from life's annoy.
And I will nurse my minstrel soul,
And keep its healthful feelings whole

In their calm heaven of Jov.

mcpiiebsom's poems.

That mother's smile — that infant's voice
So make my inmost heart rejoice.

So cheer where wealth is not.
That I might doff a diadem,
Its pride of glittering gold and gem,

To share their hmnble lot.

Ill,,,

But am I not a monarch now ?
Behold the crown is on my brow —

The crown that love has wrought —
" In outward aspect still serene, —
And glittering inly with the sheen

Of gladdening, golden thought.'

»>

III 1 1

MORN.

" The breezy cull of incense-breathing morn." — Gray.

(2.)

"What a blessing comes with the quick fresh breeze

That wakes with the summer morn,
To toy with the leaves of the forest trees,

And the poor man's smiling corn.
It has soft wings for the youthful cheek

Grown pale o'er '* the midnight oil " ;
It has whispered hope for the worn and weak.

And strength for the nan of toil.

MORN'.

I remember well in the time of Spring,

After months of pain and care,
How my heart came back, and my soul took wing,

At the touch of the balmy air !
The sun shone bright, and I caught his light,

Through a lattice of young leaves near.
While the sounds of birds and of flocks and herds,

Fell sweet on my charmed ear.

I remember, too, that the cheek's pale cast

Gave place to the rose's dye.
And my limbs grew strong, as in young days past,

'Neath the smile of the Summer sky ;
Then, the world looked bright with a new sweet light

Which seemed of another sphere,
And my mind was fraught with the high-toned thought

To the soul of the minstrel dear.

Sweet scenes ! what a world of pleasant sights.

And of cheerful sounds are thine !
How formed for supernal calm delights !

How meet for the poor man's shrine !
Glad eyes look up from the violet's cup,

Like the gems of an eastern bride ;
Gay glances flash where the waters dash

And sing on the green hill side.

Arise from thy bed of down, Proud Wealth,
Arouse from the chamber dim,

^ii

[mcpherson's poems.

And seek for the rapture of moral health,
While the wild birds chant their hymn.

Arouse from the mad debauch, weak youth,
From degrading wassail roar,

And, baring thy brow to the breeze's truth,
Eeturn to thy cup no more.

Arouse from the pillow moist with tears.

Fair maid of the beauteous brow,
And scatter the load of thy loving fears

To the wings of the soft winds now.
Instead of curtained and lonely room.

See thy favorite birds and bowers ;
May thy pale sad face soon outvie the bloom

Of thine own love-tender flowers.

TWILIGHT.

(8.)

When fades the glorious light of day.

And twilight's gentle lights descend,
From human haunts I love to stray.

Alone the tranquil hour to spend.
O'er hill and dale, by grove and stream,

Or near the sea-beat shore I go—
And, gazing on the parting gleam,

Becall my hours of joy and woe.

EVENINQ.

As that last look of daylight dies,

So passed the light of youth away, —
And Yike the gloom that round me lies

Is that which clouds my later day.
My earth-born hopes have been in vain,

Though long their trembling light was dear ;
My transient joys have closed in pain,

And love has left mo darkling here.

Yet com« there in this holy hour,

Deep spells that bid my sorrows cease-—
Pure thoughts that heavenly comfort pour.

And yield the soothing balm of per "s.
The few I loved I see no more —

Yet comes there to my soul a voice,
Which says, when this dim life is o'(r,

The lov'd may all rejoice.

EVENING.

(*)

The task is done, — the sun, who set

With glory round hi, i ; oiled,
Arrays the far horizon yet

With purple and with gold :
But twilight fades and starlit eve

Brings on the silent hours.
That yield their calm and sweet reprieve

To life's exhausted powers.

MCPHKRSON S POEMS.

Now, wearied with the world's cold ways,

The rich man seeks his hall,
To taste the quiet that repays

The ills that come to all ;
While, resting from his daily cares,

Beneath his cottage-dome,
The humblest son of Labour shares

The dear delights of home.

Now heart goes out to loving heart,

And mind to kindred mind.
Where'er content and peace impart

The smiles that bless our kind.
While from the world-enlightening Truth

Of Wisdom's various page.
Wo gather mental light for youth,

And sweet repose for Age.

NIGHT.

" How beautiful is night ! " — Southey.

Earth I thou art beautiful when Night
Her mystic mantle o'er thee throws.

And in the soft and silvery light
The dim and shadowy things repose !

As beautiful as when by day

The sun displays his burning ray.

KIGIIT.

No living thing appears — no sound
To break the solemn spell is heard.

So deep the silence, so profound,

The summer leaves are scarcely stir'd.

The calm untroubled prospect seems

Like those we sometimes see in dreams.

My spirit with the still night hour *

Holds sweet communion — and I feel

Its star-born, pure, mysterious power
Like holy rapture o'er me steal.

Though sunk in worldly cares by day,

By night she soars from earth away.

Day is the glorious — it may be

Bright with the sun's empyreal blaze —

The heavens from clouds and darkness free ;
But Night — the moon's undazzling rays —

The stars, the shades, the silence — all

Hold the full soul in deeper thrall !

Night is a Spirit ! From her throne
To man she wondrous knowledge shows ;

She makes what day denies us, known,
And pure poetic fire bestows.

The Hebrew worshipped in her shrine

And felt her influence divine !

Yes,— learn of Night— the Sybil, Night !
Koad well her vast ethereal scroll,

MCPHERSON S POEMS.

niumined by her orbs of light

Around unnumbered worlds may roll I
Yes, learn of Night— -her lore sublime
May help thee Heaven itself to climb I

LONGINGS FOR SPRING.

(«.)

I long for Spring — enchanting Spring,

Her sunshine and soft airs, —
That bless the fevered brow, and bring

Sweet thoughts to soothe her cares.
I long for all her dear delights,

Her bright green forest bowers ;
Her world of cheerful sounds and sights.

Her song-birds and her flowers.

Even while the brumal king maintains

His reign of death and gloom,
How much of solid gcud remains

To mitigate his doom.
Sweet then, to taste the well-earned cheer

When day's dull toil is o'er,
And sit among'Our Own, and hear,

The elemental roar.

Then, when the snow, drifts o'er the moor^
And drowns the traveller's cry^

LONGINGS FOR SPRING.

The charities of poor to poor

Go sweetly up on high ;
Then, while the mighty winds accord

With Mind's eternal Lyre,
Our trembling hearts confess the Lord,

Who touched our lips with fire.

Yet give me Spring, inspiring Spring,

The season of our trust, —
That comes like heavenly hope, to bring,

New life to slumbering dust ;
Restore, from Winter's stormy shocks.

The singing of the birds,
The bleating of the yeaned flocks,

The lowing of the herda.

I long to see the grass spring up, —

The first green corn appear, —
The violet ope its azure cup.

And shed its glistening tear.
My cheek is wan with stern disease,

My soul oppressed with care ;
And, anxious for a moment's ease,

I sigh for sun and air.

I long to see the ice give way.
The streams begin to flow ; —

And some benignant, vernal day,
Disperse the latest snow.

MCPHERSON S ?OEMS.

I long to see yon lake resume
Its breeze-kiss'd azure crest,

And hear the lonely wild fowl boom
Along its moon-lit breast.

Oh, I remember one still night,

"I'hat bless'd the world of yore, —
A fair maid with an eye of light,

Was with me on that shore.
I look upon the same calm brow,

But sweeter feelings throng, —
She, wedded, sits beside me now,

And smiles upon my song.

The Robin has returned again,

And rests his wearied wing,
But makes no music in the glen,

Where he was wont to sing.
The Black bird chants no jocund strain ;

The tiny wild-wood throng.
Still of the searching blast complain

But make no joyful song.

The ploughman cheering on his team.

At morning's golden prime, —
The milk-maid singing of her dream,

At tranquil evening time, —
The shrill frog piping from the pool, —

The swallow's twittering cry, —
The teacher's pleasant walk from school,

Eequire a kinder sky.

TOICE OF SPRING,

Oh ! month of many smiles and tears,

Return with those bright flowers,
That come like light, from Astral spheres,

To glad Acadia's bowers !
Young children go not forth to play, —

Life hath small voice of glee,
'Till thy sweet smiles, oh genial May I

Bring back the murmuring bee.

VOICE OF SPRING.

Joy in the laughing vallies,
Joy in the mountain glen-

Wherever Nature rallies
And springs to life again.

Stem Winter's blasts are dying
O'er forest, field a. d stream,

And balmy winds are sighing
Beneath the vernal beam.

Bright flowers are gaily springing
On meadow, hill and lea,

And birds, glad birds are singing
Their wild notes full and free.

i !,

HCPnERSON S POEMS.

The waters brightly glowing,

From icy fetters freed,
With murmur'd strains aro flowing

Through many a flow'ry Uieuti.

i||WiH

III

lliiijjii!

III III

I' 111!!'''

'ill.

^plllffilJ.

Away with undue sadnejs ;—
Let every bosom turn,

To sing with Nature's glad r ess
A song for Spring's return.

Joy ill the laughing valHos,
Joy in the mountain glon-

Wheiever Nature rallies
And springs to life again.

SPRING.

A HEBKEW MELODT-

** For, Id, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone ; the flowers
appear on the earth ; the time of the singing of birds is come, and
the voice of the turtle is heard in our land." — Solomon's Song, Chap,
ii. Verse 11, 12.

The glance of heaven hath chased the gloom

Of Winter's sterner sway ;
The mountains smile, the vales resume

Glad Nature's green array.

SPRING.

Sweet sounds of re-awakening mirtlr
Borne on the South wind's wing,

And bright things bursting into birth
Declare the enchantress, Spring.

The singing of the little birds,
The turtle's melting voice,

The bleating flocks, the lowing herds.
Bid Judah's sons rejoice.

Then, 0, like these, uo longer mute»

Awake the tribute dear ;
Bring forth the timbrel and the lute.

And hail the opening year.

Shall we forego the pleasing theme ?

Shall we be silent long,
When hill and dale and gushing streanj

Are jubilant with song?

No, Hebrews, be the duty ours

To bid glad echoes leap
From favored Salem's holy towers

To Judah's farthest steep.

Rejoice, for these salubrious skies,
These tender stems and flowers,

Like love's pure light in youthful eyes,.
Betoken happy hours.

MCPUERSON S POEMS.

Rejoice, for e'en the winged air,
The green and flowery sward,

Are grateful for the smiling care,
And kindness of the Lord.

0, let His awful Praise impart
Its power to every voice,

Great gladness bound from every heart.
And every soul rejoice.

MAY.

1 love thee, pleasant Month of May,

Because thy genial wing
Is gladdened by the first bright ray

That wakos Acadia's spring.
I love thy soft reviving breeze —
Thy tender grass — thy budding trees —

Thy birds that gaily sing ;
But most the sweet yet simple flowers
That first illume thy wildwood bowers.

These emanations from above
That make our earth so fair —

These tokens of the tender love
That make all-made Its care —

MAY.

Come oft like soft; wings from the skies
To waft us sweet unearthly sighs

And purify our air, —
To calm the spirit's weary mood,
And leave the wayward heart subdued.

The school-girl binds them on her brow

WitH fond yet artless care ;
M: gentle favourite wears them now

To deck her silken hair :
I love them, for they look like youth,
And breathe of innocence and truth,

And scenes exceeding fair ;
I love them, for they yield a voice
That bids my feeble heart rejoice,

I love to seek them on the heath

At day's most balmy hour,
And weave a sweet, a dewv wreath

lanthe ! for thy bower ;
I feel as pleased and calm and blessed
When I have placed upon thy breast

The tribute of a flower,
As while in childish years we strayed
With glad hearts o'er the sunny glade.

Sweet Firstlings of Acadia's hope —
Ye sometimes meet the blast

On some warm southern wood-side slope
Among the fallen " mast'

";— (6.)

Mcpherson's poems.

Why smile ye in a time so drear,
If not to tell our hearts-of-fear
That Mercy yet will last ? —
That light shall shine and beauty bloom
Like ye, above, the Mayflower's tomb !

WILD FLOWERS.

Though gay exotics reared with care

May please a cultured taste,
Give me the flowers the vallies bear—

The wildlings of the waste.

These, nursed in Flora's native bowers—
On earth's uncultured sward.

Come to this northern land of ours
All smiling from the Lord.

But one, our Country's Emblem dear.

The lovely flower of May,
Springs in the wild our hearts to cheer

While vernal suns delay !

I love its amaranthine leaf,

I love its simple bloom ;
It whispers, " HopeP^ — and counsels Grief

To look beyond the tomb.

THE UATFLOWXB.

It breathes of some untroubled scene-
Some laiiu divinely fair;

Of skies ineflfably serene—
Of pure immortal air I

THE MAY-FLOWER.

"Sweet cbild of many an April sbower,
First gift of Spring to Flora's bower,
Acadia's own peculiar flower,

I hail thee here !
^Thou com'st, like Hope in sorrow's hour,

To whisper cheer.

I love to stray with careless feet,
Thy balm on morning breeze to meet—
Thy earliest opening bloom to greet —

To take thy stem,
And bear thee to my lady sweet,

Thou lovely gem.

What though green mosses o'«r thee steal.

And half thy lovely form conceal —

Though but thy fragrant breath reveal

Thy place of birth—

Gladly we own thy mute appeal.

Of modest worth I
2«

M( phkkson's poem?.

Thy charms so pure a spell '< <parl,
Thy softening smiles so touch iny heart.
That silent tears of rapture start,

Sweet flower of May 1
E'en while I sing, devoid of art,

This simple lay.

Yet thou, like many a gentle maid,
In beauty's radiant bloom arrayed.
O'er whom, in early youth decayed,

We breathe the sigh, —
E'en thou art doomed, the lov'd, to fade-
The lov'd to die I

SUMMER IS COMING.

Sweet music is springing
O'er valley and hill —

The red breast is singing
Beside the free rill.

The wild bee is humming
Among the sweet flowers ;

Bright Summer is coming,
And gladness is ours I

Lo ! Summer is illuming
The forest with green ;
And blossoms are blooming
In old sylvan scene.

eiTMHER MORNINa.

SUMMER MORNING.

Sweet Summer Morn ! how cheering,

How beautiful thou art !
How like a bride appearing

To glad her bridegroom's heart !

To those who greet thee duly

Thy genial dew appears
As exquisitely pearly

As Rapture's sparkling tears.

The radiance of the flowers
That ope to meet thy smile,

Might bless the fadeless bowers
Of an Elysian Isle.

Thy friendly light hath found them
Amid their green retreats,

Presenting all around them
A Paradise of sweets.

While fairy beings, hasting,
With low sounds, o'er the lea,

Are delicately tasting
The nectared tribute free.

MCPHERSON S PaHMS.

!,!;:{

iiiir

Sweet Summer Morn ! rby featnres^

Bid every thing rejoice.
And man, of all Heaven's creatures^

Lift up his spirit voice.

Thine Orb of wondrous brightnes*

Is as a glorious eye,
And Zephyr in bis lightness

A yearning bosom's sigh.

The vermil dye arraying

Thy glad etherial way,
Is like the blush betraying

What loving lips would say.

The chrystal waters gushing
Beneath thjii golden beam,^

Make music like the rushing
Of Bofb wings in a dream.

The choral matins ringing
From meadow hill and lea.

Is Nature's pulse upspringing
In pure ecstatic glee.

Sweet Summer Morn! how cheering^

How beautiful thou art !
How like a bride appearing

To glad her bridegroom's heart I

AUTUMN.

There hath been frost, — ^the forest weari

A thousand gorgeous hues,
Affording man, amidst his eares,

A feast of pleasing views.
The hills present a rsdnbow sheen

Of every radiant dye ; "
The vales^ the dark relieving green,

So grateful to the eye.
But these are withering, day by day^

Before the north wind's breath;
Bo this world's glory fades away ! —

So bright things bow to death I
A fitful sound of spectral wings

Is heard in all our bowers ;
It is the dirge that nature sings

Above her faded flowers.
She sits in gloom — her beauty fled— ■

Her glory gone — and grieves.
Like love beside the early dead,

Among her falling leaves.

iSince earth eame smiling from her source,

She, like a summer day,
Has seen but one unchanging course

Of progress and decay !
Yet this is but the mystic art.

That wisdom has designed

MCPHKIISON 3 rOKMS.

To open PIenty*s liberal heart.

And satisfy mankind.
In all around, beneath, above,

The grateful cannot miss
To mark His hand outheld in love,

With varied stores of bliss.
We sow our seed in early spring,

In Autumn, bind our sheaves ;
And rest, when froat and tempest bring

The time of falling leaves.

Sweet now to wander by the lake,

Amid the forest hoar,
Whose silvery waters joy to make

Soft music on the shore, —
And mark, beneath the calm sad light,.

The tall trees drooping low,
And pining o'er their mirrored blight —

Like Beauty in her woe.
Sweet now to rove with minstrel thought

Amid the fair decay.
And mark the wondrous changes wrougM

Around our pilgrim way.
And sweet, at holy hush of day,

'J^o walk by murmuring rill,
And think of loved ones far away,

The heart remembers still :
For, soothing to the soul the tears.

With which Affection grieves
O^er Feeling's beautiful past year.

Among her falling leaves.

AUTUMNAL MU3IN'09.

And sweet — laborious summer past —

To take the calm repose
That patient toil enjoys at last,

At Autumn evening close !
Sweet Spring came bearing infant Hope —

IJright Summer nursed the child, —
But Autumn gave it strength to cope

With Winter's changes wild ;
Sweet, therefore, after all our care,

To hoard our little store,
And breathe the warm, the grateful prayer,

That heaven rewards with more.
When, round the harvest board, we share,

The boon of temperate joy.
Smile, smile we not at all the pain

The trouble and annoy !
For soft the pillow which we press,

Wlien, garnered all our sheaves.
We sink to sleep, and, dreaming, bless

The time of fallino; leaves.

AUTUMNAL MUSINGS.

Flowers will fade though Love may rear them,
Leaves, though born of spring-time, fall ;

Autumn winds will blight and sear them,
V/inter spread their snowy pall.

Mcpherson's poems.

Day, though calmly, brightly shining,
Clear and glorious, will not stay ;

Sunlight from the sky declining,
Night will triumph in her sway.

But though flowers and leaves may wither
From the sad earth's fading bowers.

Time again will bring them hither —
Spring-time leaves, and summer flowers.

WINTEK.

Albeit o'er Acadia lowers

An ofi inconstant sky,
She boasts a thousand fragrant flowers,

Of Flora's fairest dye :
But one — her native emblem dear —

The little flower of May-
Comes meekly forth with looks of cheer

While vernal suns delay.

Yet are our country's changeful skies

Not always wrapped in gloom.
E'en when as now the landscape lies

In Ruin's herblesy tomb ;
For, oh, how beautifully bright

When Night is coldly clear.
Are yon unnumbered orbs that light

This dim departing sphere.

SCBNES.

The great First-Cause, Who placed them there,

Imparts their added glow,
And makes the rugged clime still fair

Amidst its frost and snow.
He bids the flowers smile up to man.

The stars look down — in love,
To sanctify our suffering span

And guide the soul above.

Yet not in flowers and stars alone

Is nature's God displayed ;
His equal attributes are shown

In all that He has made.
He, watching o'er the brumal wild

As o'er the living green,
Imparts an aspect fair or mild

To every varied scene.

( I

SCENES.

I love the sunny smile that plays
On Beauty's coral Tp — the light

That sparkles in the innocent gaze
Of lovely eyes with instinct bright —

The voice whose touching tones impact
High visions to the poet's heart.

MCPHERSON S POEMS.

I lovo to see the bud unfold,

In summer's warm and sunny ray —
The hues of purple and of gold,

Which tell of scenes that pass away,
When Autumn over the landscape throws

Bland Nature's brumal rich repose.

iwm

rx.

i Hi

.■'.:f'-

IfjlU;,;-

l4'V,i

I love at night's mysterious hour,
To muse beside the scloran sea,

And feel its strange mysterious power,
And mark its waves, the wild the free,

While hallowed visions sway the soul
Resigned to thought's sublime control.

FAmr FAIXS.

(7.)

Go to ! I have a leisure hour,
And would enjoy its priceless dower

Of freedom and delight,
And cause its memory to be blest,
With culraness, if not joy, of breast,

Eternizing Its flight.

Then, having roam'd mid change of scene,
Marked Nature's often-varying mien,

A,:l breathed rotVesliing air.
Return, renewed y gentle task,
Resume my place, nor wish to ask

F'^xemption from its care.

I: •

FAIRY FALLS.

Is toil an ill ? — I say not so :-^

Its first-fruits are the cheerful flow —

The body's destined health ;
Its greater good is peace of mind,
With kindly feelings for our kind —

Its lesser guerdon, wealth.

Much real rest — much ease accrues
To those who reverently use

The moments of their trust ;
For time, our capital, employed^
Yields interest to be enjoyed,

That well repays the just.

Yet there are seasons of repose
That come with angel wings to those

Who prize true Pleasure's zest, —
Content witli nature's courtesy,
Though ignorant of the art to bo

Elaborately blest.

Such now is mine — to use — not waste, —
Then while its winged moments haste

Will I improve their flight, —
With some meet scene suggesting thought,
Some impress of that mind that wrought

All life and all delight.

Thus, in the absence of a friend,
With whose true soul my own could blend,
I will abroad, aloue —

MCPHERSON S POEMS.

iiiii

And Tvhere Rosignol winds his way
Through parted forests, weave a lay,
Of calm and healthful tone.

I love — my own, my native stream, —
To stay my feet, and dream my dream,

Beside thy Fairy Falls,
Where rushing down with gladsome din,
From rock to rock and lin to lin.

Thy spirit half appals.

Here olden Indian legends say.
Mysterious beings wont to stray,

And etch on cliffs of slate
Dark characters of mortal doom,
Prelusive of the earthly gloom

That shrouds the Micmac's fate.

But less romantic annals show
That when Acadians fled their foe

Some loitered on their way,
Depicting thus, by lake and grove,
Memorials with which exiles love

To soothe the darker day.

So let the untutored Indian roam
Through fairy regions of his home —

Along this Naid stream,
For born beneath a mystic star,
Less dear to him the things that are

Than those which only seem.

n',i!

f AIBT FALLS.

Howbeit this wild scene hath power,
Beyond the accidental power

Of fancied fairy's art ;
Suflficient in itself to please
A minstrel-soul — a mind at ease,

It asks no borrowed part.

Here, in her solemn pristine charms,
Great Nature waves her awful arms

Majestically free ;
Here on her own uncultured sward.
Her spirit walks with Nature's Lord,

As on the mighty sea.

NOTES TO "LOVE OF NATURE."

(1.) These verses are alluded to in the Introductory Memoir, as
indicative of the peculiar treatment of some of the themes of the
volume.

ii> I

j lilil

(2.) Conccniing rural out-door occupatic , at early Mom,
opinions of modern Ilygeists tend to depress the ardour of the poets,
by asserting that the air at early hours, is not so salubrious as when
the sun's influence has drawn oflf the exhalations of night.

(3.) McPherson's personal feelings, and the sadness of incidents
of his story, mark his verse, when the theme would not indicate such
a tone.

12(4.) The remark, that the themes of the different divisions of tb?
volume, appear to blend occasionally, is applicable here. The verses
would be almost as suitable for the " Domestic and Social " depart'
ment, as for that of " Love of Nature."

(5.) This has been a special favorite, with admirers of McPher-
pou'fa verse.

(C.) A peculiar delicacy of thought and metre, mark these lines,
as well as several which follow.

(7.) The scene of these verses is alluded to in memoir, under title
" Localities."

DOMESTIC AND SOCIAL.

T Memoir, as
lemes of the

;arly Morn,
of the poets,
iou3 as when
It.

1 of incidents
ndicate such

isions of tb?

The verses

ial" depart-

of McPher-

these lines,

f, under title

The Circles of home and of Society, of the house and the neigh-
borhood, will ever have strong claims for the man who is not a cynic
or worse ; who has not — from unfortunate circumstances, or moro
unfortunate disposition — allowed apathy to wrap him in the cold
cerements which cause decay of wholesome energy, and isolation of
soul. The circles of heart and ' n« and sphere are substantially

those of the man ; beyond, ho
worlds of earth and sky are l
social form the fitting centre ol i
affections ; and, in one sense, of

•xtend his sympathies until the

but the domestic and the

c>;pansion of the earthly

\\\ ji--earrhly also. If ye have

not charity for your brother whom yc have seen, how can ye bo
expected rightly to love the great Being whom wo have not seen ■?
Various degrees mark the regions of sympathy : At one extreme is
the churlish disposition which enquires, "Am I my brother's
keeper" ; at the other, (lie abounding benevolence which "gloried in
tribulation" that ministered to the good of others, — and, chief, the
wonderful abnegation of Him Who freely " gave his life as a ranson*
for many."

Well has Charity been called the perfect gift, the bond of unity,
the fulfilling of the law. The writer to whose poems these pages are
devoted, whatever his personal difficulties and sorrows, seemed never
to have divested himself of the social feeling, of the kindly sympathy,
which commisseratcs, and condoles, and aids, where aid is practi-
cable : " The Charities of poor to poor go sweetly up on high." In
the verses which follow, and indeed in each department of this little
volume, the domestic and social virtues either copiously predomi-
nate, or indirectly appear, giving indication of the genial strata which
underline every variety of surface. No doubt, one of the chief con-
solations of the Poet was, the hope or belief, that his verse would
extensively minister to the amenities which he yearned after j — and
assuredly we may have confidence that such result will be among the
most abundant effects of the long-desired publication.

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.<9

DOMESTIC AND SOCIAL.

EVENING THOUGHTS.— No. I.

(Note 1.)

How sweet is day's delightful close,

When night begins to fall
And spreads the curtain of repose,

Kind Heaven designs for all !
How welcome that auspicious hour

To those who all the day,
Are absent from affection's bower,

Unsunned by Beauty's ray.

Then man, whose task of daily care

Makes nightly rest so sweet.
Returns, the sacred joy to share

Of Love's serene retreat.
Then with his partner by his side,

His children at his knee.
He thanketh Heaven with humble pride,

Beneath his own roof-tree.

MCPHERSON S POEMi.

Albeit error bows the soul

Created to aspire,
And Time's unholy things control

Its pure immortal fire,
Yet still our Maker sends us much

Our thankfulness to claim,
Our hearts with sacred love to touch

And fan Devotion's flame.

EVENING THOUGHTS.— No. H.

When leaves the busy world the sun,

And shadows dim the west.
His daily task appointed, done,

The Peasant seeks his rest ;
His wife, beside his cheerful fire,

Receives him with a smile,
His little ones his heart inspire

With pure deligV " while.

The clean uncostly table spread,—

They share the frugal meal,
And offer up for daily bread

The gratitude they feel.
Then, sung the solemn evening psalm,

They breathe the ardent prayer,
That He who gives Domestic calm

May keep them still his care.

EVKNINa THOUGHTS.

Oh, even in the humblest sphere,

Whate'er our share of ill.
The grateful heart may find, to cheer,

Unnumbered comforts still.
None, none, however poor, need say,

His life is all of gloom ; ^»
Along the lonely desert way

The fairest flower may bloom.

EVENING THOUGHTS.— No. HI.

When shuts its balmy cup the flower

Beneath the parting light,
How welcome is the twilight hour,

The dusk approach of night.
I joy to mark the shadows fall,

I joy the stars to see,
For these thy happy husband call,

To thee, my love, to thee.

I grieve not that my toilsome days

Are spent from thee apart,
For well thine added love repays

The purpose of my heart.
That purpose is to make thy lot

As blest as it can be —
To render this, our humble cot,

A pleasant home to thee.

Mcpherson's pokms.

My wife, my own, my faithful wife,

Content my lot to share.
Thy tenderness imparts to life

A balm for many a care.
Possessed of fond Affection's light,

To gentle wprth allied,
I feel that I have reached the height

For which so long I sighed.

EVENING THOUGHTS. — No. IV.

How sweet the hour when daylight dies I

How passing dear to me
The hour in which my spirit flies.

My own true love, to thee !

The wind went murmuring softly by.
The stars were bright above.

When last I saw that beaming eye
And heard thy voice of love.

Not now that soft wind comes to me.

Those stars above me shine ;
Not now that look of love I see,

And hear thee call me thine.

SVENINO THOUGHTS.

I view not now the genial sky
That smiles above my homo

My native scenes remotely lie
Beyond the ocean's foam.

EVENING THOUGHTS. —No. V.

As sinks yon glorious purple-vestured sun
Beneath old ocean's ever-heaving breast,

Even so the Christian, when his race is run,

Smiles love's farewell, and seeks his place of rest.

No wind-lashed wave disturbs the murmuring sea—
No cloud obscures the blue ethereal scene ;

So parts the spirit longing to be free,
Unmoved by fear, and solemnly serene.

The sun has set — ^but lo ! the constant star
Of dewy Evening glimmers in the West,

Like some bright beacon beaming from afar.
To wh'iper hope to some poor wanderer's breast.

Soft shades lie round us on the earth, — above
The myriad lights of heaven's blue halls appear.

To soothe the soul with gentleness and love,
And aid its visions of a holier sphere.

Mcpherson's poems.

There hovers o'er us at this mystic hour
An angel- presence, which is not of earth,

Whose still small voice of deep unearthly power,
Beminds the listener of his heavenly birth.

What marvel if at such a pure appeal,
We grow indignant of a world's control,

Sigh for the spirit's liberty, and feel
New and immortal impulses of soul.

I would that I had wings with which to soar
Amid the light of yon celestial spheres,

Rejoicing in the privilege to explore —

Forgetful of a cold world's gloom and tears.

For I have yearnings for a belter life

Than this, of want's dread influence o'er the soul ;
And sink o'erwearied with the hopeless strife

That mocks my wishes for a peaceful goal.

WINTER EVENINGS.

Improve the winter evening hours,
Those pleasant seasons of repose,

Still lent us to augment the powers
That mitigate our woes.

rer,

le soul ;

WINTER EYENIJCaa. 47

A useful book will well repay

A thoughtful reader's patient care,

Lend much to light our troubled way,

And purify its air.

Let not those hours of ease and light

That smile when summer's sun has set,

Wound like the Parthian in his flight, j

With deep tho' late regret.

Forbid thy wayward feet to roam

With those who take no heed of time ;

For sweet the pleasures found at home

In Love's own hallowed clime.

There, while parental smiles invite |
The look, the tone, the smile of cheer, |

The Genius of serene delight |

Shall make the flre-side dear. 1

Oh ! turn not from the peaceful Sight

Of sacred Wisdom's word and way, |

To follow aught, however bright, ji

Which shines but to betray.

Improve the hours, that they may leave

Sweet recollections of their flight,

And glad Life's latest winter eve

With Truth's enlivening light.

■

48 MCPHEBSON^S POEMS.

•

THE PRIDE OF BEAUTY'S BOWER.

She shone beneath Affection's ray,

The pride of Beauty's bower,

She, like the earliest bloom of May,

i Acadia's emblem flower,

Was all too beautiful to stay

Where adverse aspects lower.

She lived a soul of gentlest grace

Exalted and refined ;

Less prized for radiant form and face

Than wealth of heart and mind ;

And memory keeps her faintest trace

; In Love*s own temple shrined.

■i

!)
i|

Though round her last low dwelling here

Autumnal leaves are strown,

Still falls upon the dreaming ear

Her voice in dulcet tone ;

But, life without her light is drear.

And, oh ! the heart is lone I i

CQE BSAUTIFCL 18 FADING.

THE BEAUTIFUL IS FADING.

"The b2aiitiful is fading.

The loved and young must die,
The film of death is shading

The soft and lustrous eye,
Much hadst thou to endear thee

In hours of joy or woe,
And now, that death is near thee.

We mourn to let thee go«

•(2)

Love — true love well requited,

Weeps o'er thy pale sad brow ;
And friendship, early blighted,

Dissolves in sorrow now.
But though the fond hearts round thee,

Implore thy longer stay ;
The time of flowers hath found thee

In fair and sad decay.

Sweet rose, (we hoped to nourish.

With fond parental care,)
Shall we not let thee flourish

In pure immortal air?
Thou canst not now be given

To all our tears and sighs ;

But we rejoice that heaven

Is dawning on tbm« ej9i.
8»

UCI'IIKIISOX S ?OK«f.

MINSTRELSY.

Toucb, Minstrel, touch tby lute for me.

And wake thy Toico of song,
And set my wearied spirit free,

From sorrow suffered long ;
For I, whom smiling Fortune slights.

Am one condemned to roam
Kemote from all the dear delights

And tender cares of home.

Kecall that dearest cot on earth,

Long faded from my view,
My mother's home, my place of birth.

Where my glad childhood grew.
Recall my sire, whose calm eye beamed

With kind protecting love.
My sister, whose affection seemed

The softness of the dove.

lap me in the fairy dreams

Of these untroubled hours,
That held their flight by murmuring streams^

And wreathed their wings with flowers.
Recall the sweet, sweet feelings, crossed

Ere life's glad zest had flown.
And give me now my loved and lost—

My beautiful — my own.

tlHST FOND HOPE?,

Sing on, sing on, I love to heat

The strain that wa'a-j the past,
And bids the lov'd and young appear

As when we saw them last.
Sing on, my spell-bound ear hatU caught

A sense of spirit-wings ;
3Iy friends draw near, for in my thought

Old footstep music rings.

Oo, gifted spirit ; thy control,

The gentle and the deep,
Has waked the woman in my soul,

And I am fain to weep.
Yet will I bless thy magic sway,

If sad thoughts, nursed for years,
Confess the momentary sway

Of wild relieving tears.

THE FIRST FOND HOPES.

"The first fond hopes of artless youth,

In kindred feeling, blighted —
Our trembling trust in loving truth,

And life-long friendship, slighted.
The torn heart's wild and bitter tears,

Unchased by smiles of gladness,
May flow, like fiery rain for years,

From brimming founts of sadness.

51? Mcpherson's poems-..

To love — to woo, a gentle mind,

Receive a plighted token,

Yet find our fondest trust betrayed,

The chain that bound us, broken ;.

To see, love, beauty, all depart,

And all around grow dreary,

Is sad experience for the heart.

And makes the world o'er weary.

]

To mark the cheek of vermil dye

Forego its beauteous blooming,

To see the lustrous loving eye

Submit to care's dark dooming ; —

i
j

These — these are trial?-', though sevcrOr

Less desolately blighting.

And make the mortal lot less drear

Than love and friendship's slighting.

Though o'er the Churchyard's grass-green heaps-

Affliction bends, like Racliel, weeping,

The heart has something which it keeps —

i
1

Sweet memories of the loct one sleeping.

Last words, last looks, lasfe smiles corae back,

To toll of lovo and truth undying,

And shed around the lone one's tiack

Sad lights, that make its gloom less tiding;.

But when our living idols change.

And mode, uuv^iiled, our fond believingr

11 -,

.•</

iFtf

1EUE SlCK BOOX.

When hearts grow cold and eyes grow strange,
And truth shrinks back from their deceiring^

The fearful price v,'hich we have paid.
The rich ore mined in vain endeavour.

The loving trust despised, betrayed.
These wreck the curly hoj}« for ever.

THE SICK BOOl^L

heaps*

iFtt'QiB the bitter heib, pain, we may extract the anodyne?, patieaoe.'*

{3.J

1 long to leave this.cheerless room,

Inn&le the free, re&'eshing air.
And feel my faded cheek resume

The hue that Hebe loves to wear-;
But ah I my limbs refuse to bear

The franae which they so lithely bore;
And 1 must dwell with wasting care,

And share in active life ao more i

[ik,

ng;

'I try to read — but Learning's well

Hath no sweet draught for stern disease,
And Thought no calm oblivious spell—

No anodyne for pangs like these.
'O give me what em duly please.

Give back rny long accustomed toil—
The parent of eontent and ease,

The culture of my native soiL

64 mcpiierson'jj pofm?.

My hrothers hail day's rosy blush,

Tliey scont the flowers, inspire the gale.
And hear the hill-side waters gush

And niuvmur onward to the vale ;
AYhile I, alHieted, restless, pale,

And worn with premature decay.
Find earthly .solace sadly fail,

And isiiili my very soul awny.

I turn and turn, but find no rest

Upon my weary couch of pain;
Sad feelings labour in my breast.

And dark thoughts raek my burning braiw.
I know that human aid is vain

For one so maimed and sick as T,
Who, though sweet ties my heart detain,

Must die — on manhood's threshold, die I

My father wears an anxious brow,

Speaks to me with a faltering tongue ;
My mother — raoFC than mother now —

With sympathetic anguish wrung ;
They cannot bear that I, so young,

Of late so fall of life, and gay,
To whom their hearts so long have clung.

Should wither from them day by day.

Yet sad as is my early fate,

And sharp as is this wasting paio.

THE SICK ROOM.

In looking o'er our mortal state,
I feel that I should not complain.

What though my feeble frame has lain
Long months beneath increasing ill,

Am I not linked in Nature's chain,
Anil blest with hourly mercies still ?

Home, kindred, love's kind care are mine,

With much that sickness most requires ;
While thousands wearily decline

Far distant from their household fires.
O Thou by whom the world respires,

Thy love has been so great to me.
That, taught how vain are earth's desires,

I yield my chastened soul to Thee !

The spirit suffers with the clay

In which it tabernacles here,
But soars at intervals away

To regions exquisitely clear.
Oh, if this passing world be dear

With all its weariness and pain,
How should we deem that better sphere

That smiles undimmed by Error's stain !

The time is near, when yon blue skies
Shall vanish like a closing scroll,

And all (hat anxious worldlings prize
Be dust and ashes to the soul :

6(J mcpuerson's poems.

God I assist mo to control

The warring of undue desire,

1 That I may reach Thy hlissful goal,

And praise Thee in Tiiy day of fire.

!
1
; SYiMPATIIY.

1 i The heart has hours of dark unrest

1 1 That must bo all its own,

But cold and callous is tlie breast

j'l That beats for self alone.

' Communion lessens every care,
( Enhances every zest,

' And makes the spirit strong to bear

ij The ills that break her rest.

The rich man flies from Fashion's strife,

1 1 The poor man from his care,

To taste the healing sweets of life,

And breathe afFiJCtion's air.

1 Though specious pleasures oft invite

1 The wayward heart to roam.

AVe turn with ever new delight

To friendship, love, and home.

1 Magic of domestic bliss !

1 How soft thy silken chain,

MATERNAL DUTY.

How bright thy smile, how chaste thy kiss,

IIow exquisite thy reign !
The heart that vainly sighs to sharo

Its light and joyous tone,
Might break if it were doomed to beai

Its weary lot alone.

MATERNAL DUTY.

Young mother with how pure a heart,

How firm a soul, shouldst thou
Perform the dear delightful part,

Entrusted to thee now.
In that fair child's inmiortal mind.

But lent thee from the sky,
Instill sweet mercy for its kind,

And aspirations high.

Of all that, born in virtue's air,

Subserves our noblest ends,
How much upon maternal care

And fuitlifuluess, depends !
That bud of moral being, nursed

By fond affection's hand,
May into wondrous beauty burst

And bless a smiling land.

; :

MCPHERSON S P0E5IS.

Young mother, sow betimes the seed

Of all things good and fair,
And let not Folly's hurtful weed,

The place of wisdom share.
Fulfil maternal duty's part,

Confiding in the Lord,
And He, observant of the heart,

Will give the great reward.

If aught on this unstable sphere

Is, like the world above.
So sacred, beautiful and dear,

It is a mother's love ;
Use, then, this firm enduring band,

This sweet controlling tie,
To lead thy child through this dark land.

To glory in the sky.

Oh, with what joy the mother meets

In that bright world of bliss.
All pure amidst the golden streets,

The child she nurs'd in this !
For in that land of " living green,"

Around the Eternal Throne,
The blest shall see as they are seen,

And know as they are known.

SI NO TO MK.

SING TO ME.

Sing to me, Dear, as David sang

To Israel's troubled king,
When music's magic numbers rang

Along each conscious strinoj.
My soul is sick of worldly strife

And burthened with despair,
And song may haply take from life

Some burthen of its care.

Then sing to me, of those sweet ties

That, strong in guileless truth.
Give sunshine to the darkest skies

That dim the hopes of youth.
Sing to me of the loved and young

Who faded in their bloom.
And left a heart intensely wrung

To bear a sombre doom.

They passed from this cold place of graves,

This desert laud of death.
When all that fond Affection craves

Hung trembling on their breath.
But, taken to a cloudless clime

Of pure immortal streams.
They wear the spirit's glorious prime,

And realize their dreams.

MCPHERSON S POEMg,

Yet, Sweet, forgive if I recall

Wild memories of thino own,
That left thy silent tears to fall,

Thy clay to pass alone.
Oh ! share the sobbing of my breast,

Since we alike deplore,
The dead who are not dead, the blest

Who come to us no more.

Less dear to me the charms of song,

Whate'er the minstrel's art.
Than those sweet sympathies which throng

The sufFaring human heart.
Then raise no uncomrautual strain

Of withered hopes for me,
But of thine own deep woes complain

And I will weep with thee.

THE POOR MAN.

(*.)

Lord grant the poor man daily health,

To toil for daily bread,
He has small other earthly wealth,

And must be clothed and fed.
The proud of place may grind his face,

The hard withhold his hire,
Great Parent ! heed his piteous case

And guard bis cottage fir«.

If :l

THE POOR MAN.

Thou carost for the little birds

That own no earthly lord ;
Thou carest for the flocks and herds

That crop the flowery sward ;
Hear'st the young ravens when they cry,

Heed'st the young lion's roar,
And wilt regard the poor man's sigh.

And meek petition, more.

The rich man may see little need

To pray for plenteous bread ;
The poor man, of a nobler creed,

Asks daily to be fed.
His wife, the angel of his cot,

Demands his constant care, —
The children, sent to bless their lot,

Require their humble fare.

Oh grant the poor man daily health,

And strength for daily toil.
With sweet content, the precious wealth

Of weary mortal moil.
And grant him power to rule his mind,

To prize affection's sway,
And nurse the charities, deyigned

To smooth his pilgrim way.

Assist thou him to keep his heart,

To walk in virtue's light.
And act, whatever assails, a part,

Praiseworthy in Thy sight.

O'i

UrPlIKHPON S POF.M?.

Then, when his little span has past

Amidst privations here,
Oh take him to Thyself at last

111 rest's immortal sphere.

COUNSELS.

(5.)

My fellow man ! whate'er thy name,
Blest with a low or lofty lot, —

Content, or struggling on to fame.
Or young, or old — it matters not :

Thou art my brother, and I feel.

Oh ! deeply, for thy spirit's weal !

Shun sinful Pleasure ! Though she seem
That which the erring heart desires,

She will not realize thy dream,
She is not what thy soul requires :

She dims the mid-day sun, and brings

Deep night and death beneath her wings.

The Syren has a thousand smiles

To win her thoughtless victim's trust,

A thousand bland yet specious wiles
To hide her heart of rank disgust ;

Beware, whoe'er thou art, beware ;

Each soft allurement hides a snare.

DVINO IN 81'IUNO.

If tbou hast touched — ahjurc, the bowl ;

If thou hast not — rejoice with me ;
Preserve the beauty of thy soul,

And as thou art, continue, free.
"When tempted, supplicate the sky ;
God sees thee — He is ever nigh.

Our human strength is weakness, we
May fall when seemingly secure ;

But tried and trembling dust may flee
To One whose aid is always sure.

Vain-glory hath its own reward ;

Look thou for succour from the Lord.

Be steadfast. Duty's path is plain,
The simplest need not err therein j

Put on no self-enslaving chain,
Make no companionship with sin ;

Hope smiles not, peace is never found,

Joy springs not, but on Sacred Ground.

DYING IN SPRING.

(6.)

Bright skies are o'er thee shining,
Soft breezes fan thy brow ;

Yet thou, the lov'd, art pining,
With secret sorrow now.

MCPHERSON 8 P0E5IS.

Fair flowers aro springing round thee,

In forest, field, and bower ;
But Spring's bright hues have found ♦See.,

Thyself a fading flower.

Where hearts have been the lightest,

Thine own has been most light ;
Where smiles have shone the brightest,

Thine own has shone most bright.
But now a cloud lies o'er thee.

The young cheek's bloom hath flov.n ;
This life may not restore thee,

The joys which thou hast known.

Not now thy footstep boundeth,

Among the opening flowers ;
Not nov/ thy sweet voice soundeth,

As oft in former hours.
Thy soul is sadly sighing,

Tliy loved harp lies unstrung ;
And thou in spring art dying.

Our beautiful and young.

WHEN SHALL I AGAIN BEHOLD THEE?

When shall I again behuid theo ?

When those lineaments review,
Fondly to my heart enfold thee,

And the bright hours past renew t

TTHFN SHALL I AOMM BEHOLD TIIKR.

«5

Since I haw tliy look of ghulness,

Since tliy sweet voice cheered mo last,

Left to lintryr on in r^adne.ss,
Life wiili tno has poorly passorl.

Has thy path been bright before tlice,

Through those long eventful years ?
Has no lemjiei^t, bursting o'er thee,

Quenclied tliy hopes in gloom and tears ?
If thy fond heart, lost to gladness,

Shrinks from dark, dark years to be,
Then, remember, in thy sadness,

Thou hast yet thy G.od — and me !

Though my cheek has somewhat faded,

Though my heart has greatly changed,
Though my brow is sorrow-shaded,

I am not from thee estranged.
If thy faith is still unshaken,

If thy love its truth retains,
Then, whatever time has taken.

One sweet solace yet remains.

What though we have wasted treasure,

And experienced much of ill,
Life's pure fount of dearest pleasure

TremMes in our bosoms still.
Our pledged hearts are fondly beating

Our true spirits deeply stirred ; —
(Sad our parting !) sweet our meeting

After years of hope deferred !

MCPIIKRSON S POKMS,

But, shall I again beboltl tlieo,

Those dear lineaments review,
Wiklly to my heart enfold thee,

And tlie sweet hours past renew ?
Dearest lost one — if still living,

Though remote as pole from pole,
I, the loving and forgiving,

(Tivo thee welcome to my soul.

Come, then ; come I — with hearts still youthful,

We shall soon forgot our care ;
Come, O come! with souls still truthful,

Life sliall yet again be fair.
Haste, while Hope continues burning ;

Fly, ere life's glad pulse be o'er.
Still I watch for thy returning —

Wilt thou come to me no more V

TO A PUPIL.

Enough — enough, my conscious boy,

Thy daily task is done,
And thou that art a thing of joy,

Shalt laugh, and leap, and run ;
Go with thy happy mates to play,

Beneath the open sky,
And win the feelings fresh and gay

Denied to such as I.

TO A PDPTr,.

Gather ripe berries in tlio fields,

Partake the limpid rill,
And simple joys that nature yields,

But fall not into ill.
The pleasures which are pure and good,

Are never found apart
From duty, rightly understof)d,

And innocence of heart.

Away — the cloud-attended sun

Is sinking in the west,
The weary day will soon be done.

And all things go to rest ;
Away — improve the pleasant hours

Endeared by school-boy dreams,
And list the birds, and mark the flowers,

Tliat shade the wild-wood streams.

Yet, first fulfil affection's part

To thy young mother meek.
That she may clasp thee to her heart,

And press thy blooming cheek.
O boy, return her fond caress,

Bequite her patient care.
And make her hours of loneliness

Not all too hard to bear.

When thou — her beautiful, her own,
Art absent from lier side,

She feels as widowed- ~r.s alone.
As wlien thy father died ;

MCPHERSON S POEVB.

The love that his last hours beguiled
Of half their gloom and tears,

Has turned to thee, her oidy child.
With all its hopes and fears.

Then^ go assure the lonely heart

Of which thou art the stay.
And if an anxious tear should starts

Wipe thou that tear away.
Thy gentle raotlier, much for thee

Unmurmuringly has borne ;
O, boy, continue kind, and slie

jMay haply cease to mouru.

CIIAPJTYo

iStern " Winter rules the inverted year'*-

The genii of the tempest meet,
The sky is dark, the landscape drear

With drifted snow and driving sleet ;
The houseless shivers in the street,

The poor man cowers beneath his yhod.
While calmly in his warfti retreat

The rich man feasts on dainty bread.

O rich man ] think of those who pine
Beside tho fearful gulf of vico^

CHARITY.

"While large luxurious good is thine,
Without the pain that's oft the price ;

Then ere thy generous state entice
To proud display, to rich repast,

Reserve a part that shall suffice
Some humble soul on bounty castr

Yet veil thine hand from suffering's view ;

For Charity, t!'ough kind, is coy,
And loves, as often virtues do,

Some modest -way of giving joy.
The donor's pride should not destroy

The gratitude that ought to start,
Unchecked by shame's impure alloy,

From out the glad receiver's heart.

Let Nature teach thee to bo kind,

Unostentatious, prudent, right ;
Hoaven-trusted with a loving mind.

Thou need'st the guide of Heavenly light.
The bounteous dews distil at night.

The stream comes forth from founts concealed^
Be, then, tl>e deeds which these incite.
Not few, albeit unrcvoaled.

McniEiisoN s rofiMS.

THE PILGRIM SLEEPS.

(7.)

The Pilgrim sleeps — his wearied form
Its last long silent rest is taking ;

He feels not now the ruthless storm,
His heart no more with grief is aching.

The Pilgrim sleeps — his deathless soul,
So meet for joy, and formed for soaring.

Escaped from this dark life's control,
Is some more glorious scene exploring.

Though he to many a heart was dear.
And friendship held her empire o'er him,

He seemed a weary wanderer here,

And why should such as we deplore him.

111'!'

lie dwells in yon bright world of joy,

Where sweet unfading flowers are springing,

Where love is pure from death's alloy,
And blissful souls are sweetly singing !

The Minstrel sleeps. Ills soul has passed
From Time's (eventful) shore ;

The fettered bird is freed at last
Through heavenly liglit to soar ;

He feels not fortune's bitter blast,
He wakes to pain, no more !

NOTES TO "DOMESTIC AND SOCIAL.

(1.) The "Evening Thoughts " of this section, mny be consider-
ed by some, at first si^ht, as ranginj; more appro])riately under the
designation "Love of Nature;" additional examination, however,
may satisfy that the " Domestic and Social " element predominates,
and that the verses belong to the division so called.

(2.) These lines were entitled "A Melody" by the ^vriter.
Their flowing metro and musical cadence give good claim to the
designation.

(3.) With much appearance of being "personal" these verses
have internal evidence of being general, though the emotions were
the dictates of experience. How graphically are sad circumstances
dwelt on, — relieved by a hope supernal at the close.

(4.) The Poet's aptness to l)lcnd moral with personal picture is
evinced in these and many other lines of the collection.

(5.) One of many evidences of McPhcrson's christian sympathy
and charity. Keen sinsitivcness to his own cares was kept well
apart from querulous selfishness. Sympathy blended with complaint,
and generally raised him far above the reality, or the affectation, of
the vice of miSanthro])y.

(6.) An unusual expression of sad thoughts, in very musical
verse.

(7.) An appropriately soothing sequel to the troublous scenes
previously alluded to, or described : — " The Pilgrim Sleeps."

' 5 I

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PERSONAL.

Tub Personal characteristic forms an important part of literary
composition, though in some works it is but sparingly introduced, in
reference to the writer's identity. Shakespeare alludes only indi-
rectly and briefly to himseir and his fiiends. Milton's majestic verse
has exquisite, but not copious, i-eferences to the Poet's circumstances
and history. Self and its associations, pervade much of Byron's
more celebrated poems. Cowper employs the "Personal" freely,
and with much pathos and beauty. It forms the basis of the plain-
tive philosophy of " Young's Night Thoughts."

Painters imbue their works with such ^personality as consists of
familiar figures and favorite localities : the portraits of themselves and
their acquaintances, pictures of the river banks where they loved to
loiter, of the trees which shaded their noontide walk, of the cottages
and halls of familiar neighbourhoods. Poets have more ample
means and more copious sources of the Personal at command ; and
have sometimes been tempted, in this respect, beyond the bounds
which prudence would dictate.

The Personal tendencies of poets differ in nature as in degree.
Inflated adulation, scathing satire, malignant denunciation, mark the
mood, with some, about as freely as do true kindly feeling, and loving
graphic description.

Not mach of the morose of personality will be found in the verses
which follow ; but, instead, some melancholy wailings, earnest yearn-
ings for sympathy, occasional overshadowing of earthly despair, —
and, in happy moments, kindness, gaiety, and cheerfulness. McPher-
son's muse, untrained to continued control, luxuriated in the melan-
choly, or the joyous, — in accordance with the lowering cloud, or the
sunburst, which marked the landscape of life.

PERSONAL.

ADDRESS TO A. M. G.

(Note 11

Dear Sir, in reading your las<^ sheet,
I really felt inclined " to greet,"
It was so tender and so sweet

From first to last ;
In fact it set me on my feet,

Ttough much downcast.

It breathes a sympathetic glow
Which is not merely specious show ;
For you, as I have cause to know,

Are quick to feel
The influence of another's woe.

Another's weal.

I nurse a strong desire to see
Your face, of late too strange to me.
And blend in conversation free

Led by your voice ;
But, as this pleasure cannot be,

I waive my choice.

BfCPirERSON S rOEXS,

I have a wife, a daughter too —
(The last is really something new,
At leaat it may be news to you ;)

So I am tied
To narrow bounds — as if I grew

At ray hearth's side.

But I can send you now and then.
The rough rude products of my pen.
Which you can scan in some lone glen,

By some glad stream- -
Aloof from some sad bores, calkO. men —

Who break one's dream.

So now, while borne on song's wild wave,

I give you what I often crave,

A few thoughts humourous or grave

As things may tend,
Not mere appearances to save ;

But cheer my friend.

I trust such intercourse, (begun

Beneath an inauspicious sun,)

Is now renewed, through life to ruR^

With fixed regard ;
For neither of us ought to shun

His brother bard,.

ADDHESS TO A. M- 0.

You say, you priz'd my homely lyre,
My (would you say ?) poetic fire,
For you have feelings that aspire

To Fame's proud height ;
Dear Sir, good wings to your desire,

And write — soon write-

For me, as it regards content,

I have no reason to repent

That my glad hours are now unspent

In musings lone ;
My " ladye" has a prudent bent —

A social tone

She seems to have but one defect.
Which is, a certain warm respect.
For one who cannot brook neglect

Of his poor muse ;
With sense sufficient to detect

And chase " the blues."

I've laid " the birchen sceptre" down,

Foregone the glory of the crown—

The approving smile, more frequent frown.

And " penny-pay,"
To serve the state, and win renown

Some other way.

MCPnERSON\s POEMS.

So, as your "Justiceship" may sco,
My heart is light, my spirit free
From those dull cares which ill agree

With studious thought,
And which have often harrassed me

Till nigh o'erwrottght.

Thus freed, I find that I can soar
As I have never done before.
And may yet reach the spirit-shore

Of Iwdly minds,
Above the loud tumultuous roar

Of adverse winds.

** There is a tide in men's affairs*'
Which, taken at the flood, prepares
The way to seats which merit heirs

As her estate ;
Neglected — all our after cares

May be too late.

Yet should I realize my aim,
Secure a proud poetic name,
Nay — •• rival all but Shakespeare's fame,*'

My heart shall still
Bespond to friendship's gentle claim.

And love's sweet thrill.

ADDRESS TO A. M. 0.

You say friend Elder — all a bard —
Has mentioned me with warm regard ;
Just tell liim not to toil too hard

For his degree,
Lest he revisit that " Grave-Tard^^

Unseen of me.

I need not say how well he writes ;
Though sometimes, like myself, he slights
Poetic language and affright.^?

The nymph of Grace ;
Not one of all Acadia's wights

Could fill his place.

' K

' t LiUifl

In closing this most learned sheet,
I hope your visions may be sweet
Until we fortunately meet —

No matter when —
If but in some far city street,

Both laurelled men.

My best respects to lady G,

Whom my dear spouse desires to see,

Because she was so kind to me,

When I was less,
And showed a friend's anxiety

For my success.

Mcpherson's poems.

Farewell ! — I have till now deferred

This brief but melancholy word,

By which coramutual hearts are stirred

Even to the core ;
Farewell ! a sound that must be heard

On this doomed shore !

TO SAMUEL ELDER.

(2.)

AN ADDRESS.

" Dear brother of the mystic tie,'

I would that thou wert here,
To gaze with me on yon fair sky

And yon receding sphere.
The evening air is cool, though calm,
The waving fields are breathing balm ;

Oh would that thou wert near,
To sit with me on this green hill.
While thoughts sweet essences distil.

Yet thou canst feel, where'er thou art,

All beauty — glory — power.
The stirring of the conscious heart,

The mind's immortal dower.
All nature, measureless and free,
Is pregnant with delight for thee

In every varied hour ;
For thine the genius that pursues
Meek wisdom in whate'er it views.

TO SAMUEL ELDER.

Thy spirit walks with Nature ; — thou
Hast wooed her peerless charms,

And won — and haply winnest now —
Chaste rapture from her arms ;

And found with her, in converse sweet,

A safe and sanctified retreat
From busy life's alarms ;

And caught her cheerful smile and tone.

And made her gushing heart thine own.

Her constant love has lent thy mind

A fond enthusiast's fire.
And called the soul of thought refined

From out thy youthful lyre.
Till thou hast winged a lofty flight,
And breathed an air, and gained a height,

To which but few aspire ;
But thy best happiness and worth.
And dearest hope, are not of earth.

Thou hast a dearer, purer choice,

A higher, holier aim
Than this world's vain inconstant voice,

And unsubstantial fame :
Go, Warrior of the Holy Cross !
And, counting earthly aims as dross.

Secure a deathless name ;
Go on, increasing in desire
For souls, and souls shall bo thy hire.

MCPHERSON S POEMS.

Go, cbosen Militant, and wield

The armour of the Lord,
Go, strong in faith, and take the field

Against the thing abhorred ;
Go grapple with the world of sin,
And fight the righteous fight, and win

The infinite reward —
The glory yet to be revealed
To all by the Redeemer sealed !

WINTER,

AN ADDRESS.

(3.)

" Dear brother of the mystic tie,"

The landscape wears a snowy shroud.
And those wild minstrels of the sky.

The winter winds, are piping loud ;
Whilst many a black, portentous cloud

Unfurls its huge wings to the blast,
And trees of giant growth are bowed,

Before the tempest, hurrying past.

No pleasant sounds of wandering rills,
No songs of birds iu beechen bowers,

No flocks and herds upon the hills,
Now cheer this changeful climo of ours.

WINTER.

Stem winter's desert aspect lowers
Where'er we turn the asking eye ;

But gentle thought and love are powers
That soften even a polar sky.

I long for spring — congenial spring —

Her sunshine and elysian air,
That aid the soul to lift her wing,

And soar above the clouds of care.
But though the fields are now so bare,

The Summer of affection's smile,
Makes home, that sweet oasis, wear

The beauty of a blissful isle.

When sunless day and stormy night

Make dreary winter doubly drear,
The fireside hath a new delight.

The social face an added cheer.
The smiles of fond companions dear.

The music of the household band.
Makes winter's aspect less austere,

And ours a happy, happy land.

This is the season of repose.

When frugal toil takes sweet reprieve,
In cheerful sleighing o'er the snows.

And pleasant visits paid at eve.
The Novascotian need not grieve

That Heaven has sent him northern skies,
For with them come the valued leave

To culture all that man should prize.

■11

1 ')

MCPHERSON S POEMS.

How sweet to those that love to give,

Is now the charitable deed,
To merit, struggling hard to live,

In destitution's hour of need !
How sweet, the farmer says, to feed,

One's cattle on a stormy day,
While they look up, and we may read

The silent gratitude they pay.

I love to hear the winter wind

Rave round my cottage eaves at night ;
But more congenial to my mind

Glad summer's tones of dear delight.
My form, poetically slight,

Dreads winter with instinctive fear,
But health may still resist his blight,

And bear me through another year.

Another year ! — shall such be mine.

To bring, as all the past have brought,
More days of gloom than hours of shine.

More anxious than delightful thought ?
Enough — let trial come unsoucfht.

And peace, on unexpected wings ;
Sufficient to a heart o'erwrought

The trouble that each moment brings.

Thus, Angus, I have poorly tried
To breathe a passing thought to thee,

Irene seated by my side,
And little Mary at my knee,

TO IRENE.

Adieu, luy friend : — if thou sbouldst see
A poor man struggling hard to rise,

Oh ! take him by the hand for me
And point him to his native skies.

TO IRENE.

Dearest ! if rightly I divine

From that expressive eye,
The hidden life of mind is thine —

Pure thought and feeling high,
It is not in her form or face,

That woman's empire lies ;
Possessed of no superior grace,

Soon other beauty dies I

i 1

Then dearest seek, yet more and more,

The charms that ne'er decline,
That, when the bloom of youth is o'er,

The heart may not repine ;
That, whether life to thee be bright,

Or shadows o'er it lower.
Thou still will have a source of light

Beyond its tran&ient power !

MCPJIEIiSON S P0EM9.

liii

TO lANTHE.

(*.)

lanthe, when thou art oppressed,

And shorn of thy patience, and tried,

Come hither, recline by my breast,
And weep till thy sorrows subside.

I love thee — oh dearly, and feel,
Amid my own multiform woes,

Much care for thy temporal weal,
But more for thy spirit's repose.

Our roof-tree is low, but its shade,
Is always delightful and dear ;

None dai-ing to make us afraid
In rational liberty's sphere.

Yet while we enjoy the sweet ties
That daily our station requires,

Our treasure is stored in the skies —
Our hope in the God of our sires.

Then yielding ourselves to His will,
Transformed by the word of his power,

let us serenely fulfil
The duties of life's little hour.

:iil

TO MY SICK WIFE.

Yet, dearest, when thou art oppressed.
And shorn of thy patience, and tried,

Come hither, yecline by my breast
And weep till thy sorrows subside.

TO MY SICK WIFE.

When thou wast well I joyed to gaze

Upon thy form of grace,
Observant of the light that plays

Around thy lovely face.
I felt such gladness in thy sight,

Such solace by thy side,
As lent my tranquil soul a light

That absence vainly tried.

But thou art sick and suffering now,

And I will be, to thee.
The faithful minister that thou

Hast often been to me.
Yet need I more than self to bear

The thought that thou mayst die,
And leave me in a world of ewe

Without a kindred eye.

sr,

That self — that bitter self thou art-
And aid'st me to sustain

88 Mcpherson's poejis.

The fears that rend my human heart.
And rack my anxious brain.

With words of hope and looks of love
I try to comfort thee,

But, Angel, sent me from above.
Thy patience comforts me !

Thy words of cheerfulness control

The ills that break my rest,
Thy sacred sympathies of soul

Make e'en affliction blest.
But when I gaze on that dim eye,

And on that pallid brow,
I inly importune the Sky

To spare thee to me now.

My spirit scarce could mount above

The dark'ning ills of earth
Without thy pure devoted love,

Thy meek retiring worth.
May He who gave thee to my prayer

Dispel my anxious fears —
Still make us His parental care,

And give us happy years !

PLEADINGS FOR RETURN.

SONNET TO lANTHE.

lanthe, spirit, who canst wield the power

That wakes my lyre to minstrel melody ;
I dedicate my simple song to thee,

For thou hast guerdoned it with thy rich dower
Of heavenly smiles, and it has many a flower

For use and ornament chat came to mo
With the glad sharer of my poverty, —

The mdustrious mistress of my cottage-bower.
Thou hast an influence 1 may not control —

A queenly sway in which I am most free, —
The music of thy love has charmed my soul

And. taught ray song its better ecstacy.
Heaven bless thee, and thy babe, our dear, dear spirit,

Whose blue eyes beam with beautiful delight,

PLEADINGS FOR RETURN.

(5)

Oh blame not him whose heart is wrecked

In all its fondest hopes for thee.
If sometimes, somethins: like neglect

Restrain the feelings once so free.
Think, pitying think, that it may be

O'erwhelmed with care, when fancied cold,
For, oh ! it still beats true to thee.

And keeps thee in its warmest fold.

MCPHERSON S POEMS.

If, uttered at a time like tliis,

Some harsh word pain thy gentle breast,
Come to me with thy smile and kiss,

And soothe my spirit into rest.
That spirit too, too oft, oppressed

With weary thought for thee and thino,
Is only still and oalm and blessed

When thou forhid'st it to repine.

Thou canst not think, thou may'st not know

How my love deepens with despair ;
Though sometimes life's exterior show

Would seem to speak it light as air.
For I have grief which none may share,

And proudest reason doth not quell.
Which, yet, might yield to thy kind care,

Thy pious patience cherished well.

'i I I

Men called rao gifted — and I toiled

To reach proud Fame's immortal steep ;
But, ah ! thou know'st how darkly foiled

Are all the hopes for which I weep !
Oh plunge me in no deeper deep.

Bid not my sun go down ere noon ;
But come in pardoning love, and keep

The poor heart which will break too soon.

Oh never, though so much to blame,
Have I been inly false to thee ;

And this poor heart is still the same.
Though tossed on sorrow's shoreless sea.

PLEADINfiS FOR RETURN.

Lifo now can lend no charms to mo
But such as centre in thy smile ;

Then, oh ! forgive thy wrongs, and be
Its sweeter light, a little while !

A little while ! — a brief sad liour !

For, oh ! I have not long to stay !
And thy dear love should lend its power

To cheer the couch of pale decay.
I ask but this, sweet wife ! to lay

My aching head upon thy breast,
To press thy lips, and pass away,

Forgiven, to my final rest.

I weep, not that I am alone —

Though this were much for me to bear-
But, that thy tears must not be shown,

Thy sighs be breathed to empty air ;
Whilst /, who caused thy grief, should share.

And, sharing, lessen all thy woes ;
And thou should'st soothe my soul of care,

And chase the clouds that round me close.

■',» I

Come back, my love — my life ! come back,

To prove me all which thou canst ask,
And tread with me the barren track

That gives my soul no easy task.
I will not chide — I will not masque

Life's light in cold and jealous guise,
But bid content and pleasure bask

Beneath our calm domestic skies.

MCPriEUSON S rOEMP.

Write no forgiveness — words are weak,

And will not not soothe my wild unrest,
But, come and press it on my cheek

And weep it on my contrite breast.
My errors have been all confessed

Before the Eternal's mercy throne.
And ile, T trust, will deign to bless

The soul which thou shalt joy to own.

Come back — come home — and we will rear

In our low cot an humble shrine,
Look up to God in love and fear,

And ask, in faith, the Guide divine.
Come home, Irene — angel mine !

With household Peace, the white-winged. Dove,
And feel my fond heart true to thine —

My soul repay thee with its love.

I will not tell how much I feel !

How writlies my heart ! how aches my brow !
For I would have my life reveal

How deep the change that rules me now.
Come listen to my better vow,

And bathe my cheek, and smoothe my bed ;
Nor tarry long away — lest thou

Shouldst but be called to mourn mo dead.

Dead ! couldst thou bear to have me die
And thou, my wedded wife, not near

To catch my spirit's parting sigh.
And shed the tributary tear ?

PLEADINGS FOR RETURN.

1)y tlio tins onco bold so dear —
Hy all wo luivu heen and may be —

Come ))iiek to he cheorcd, and to elicer,
And live a life of lovo with mo.

What more shall deep repentance say 'i

What more the suffering soul repeat ?
O surely thoic wilt not delay

Whilst /shalt listen for thy feet.
My inmost heart goes out to meet

The loved one who shall rule my home,
Make e'en remembered sorrow sweet,

And lighten every care to come !

Irene, listen to my sigh —

My heart's contrite bewailing groan y
And do not, do not let me die.

As I may but deserve, — alone.
But come with kind consoling tone,

And smiling through thy parting tears.
Confirm Heaven's pardon with thine own.

And crown my hopes for future years.

*,'!

Come thou whose love so sweetly smiled,

And brightened even my dreary lot ;
Come to nie, mother of my child —

Lov'd mistress of my lowly cot.
Let past afflictions be forgot —

Let sweet hope be once more renewed —
And come to me, distrusting not,

And prove my deep, deep gratitude.

94 mcphbuson's poems.

It is the last time — this the last

That I shall hope to move thy soul,
So let Oblivion veil the past,

And bless me with thy first control !
If this prove vain — the frozen pole

Is type of what my breast shall be !
I ask thy love — undoubting, whole—

For I all fondly yearn for thee !

TO LAURA.

O Loved One Lost, I have again been straying,

Where we so oft in happy converse strayed —
Where, Youth's glad zest and Hope's gay light obeying,

Our footsteps lingered while our hearts delayed.
But sad to me the well remembered places.

That held the objeets which I prized of yore,
Because — alas ! their old familiar faces

And kind sweet voices, gladden them no more.

IV r

The harp that answered to thy fairy fingers

Has long been mute within thy faded bower.
But still its music's mournful memory lingers

Among the dreams that are my spirit's dower.
A desert aspect meets me from the dwelling,

Whose humble roof-tree sheltered thee so long,
Forj^there I saw thy maiden bosom swelling

With that sweet love which saddened me to song.

TO LAURA.

Cold strangers now look out upon the roses

That blessed thee yearly with their light and bloom,
Beneath the casement which no more discloses

The gentle tenant of that quiet room.
Alas ! Life needs no great events to make it

Forego the visions of its sunny prime —
The loving heart no outward force to break it,—

Enough, enough the silent lapse of Time.

We walk not now where Summer flowers, bestowing

Elysian odours on the wooing wind,
Made those bright eyes, those fervent tones more glowing,

That fond kind heart still fonder and more kind.
We sit not now in social conversation,

Beside the hearth that smiled with wintry cheer,
As oft we sat before the deprivation

That quenched our hopes, and wrung the burning tear.

Yet, think not that thy name is now unspoken

By those who loved thee when thy days were few :
Think not the lorn heart slights the simple token

That moves to tears whene'er it meets the view.
Thou wert beside us in our days of gladness,

And, though departed to a stranger shore.
Art still remembered in our years of sadness

As^one long hoarded in the bosom's core.

'■II

The few, that loved thee, valued thee not lightly,
And will retain thine image to the last ;

And thou, though widely distant, will do rightly
To cherish still the friendships of the past ;

mcphekson's poems.

For, should the friends of later days neglect thee,
Those few whose fond hearts have not yet grown cold

Will take thee to their bosoms and protect thee,
As in the days that were so dear of old.

Farewell, again ! This may be ray last greeting

On this unstable and illusive shore.
We two may have our next enraptured meeting

WTiere love ne'er pines from lack of glittering ore.
Methinks thy sufferings must have taught submission

To that great Power that holds thee in His hand,
Thy soul be meeter for the bright fruition

Of endless glory in the spirit land.

One more such hour of moonlight and of dreaming

With thee, the thoughtful, and superb of brow,
With that soft eye in lustrous beauty beaming.

Would waft me back to Boyhood's Eden now.
One more such hour as I have passed with thee, love,

When glad rills murmured music for the free,
Were worth what else that earth could yield to me, love,

For life's best light appeared and waned with thee.

Yet, what remains bat sighs of mortal sorrow

W'.ere sweet hopes have been and must be deferred —

Where Expectation looks for no bright morrow,
And memory wanders like a widowed bird ; —

1
"]

;0 A STUDENT OP ACADIA COLLEGE.

»7

II cold

What but a sign of parting and of blessing,
That hath no voice but in this world of ours,

Where lorn love waits for purified caressing
Amid the beauty of undjing bowers.

ore.
!sion
nd,

Then Loved One Lost, to be forgotten never

By those who hold thee in the tried heart's core,
Be blest through this short life — be blest forever

On this dim orb and on the Eternal shore.
Be thy path brightened with those kind, sweet faces

That make this being calm to its decline,
And, after long years passed in pleasant places.

Be boundless rapture of the Kansomed thine.

'iJ

ove,

me, love,
thee.

eferred —

TO A STUDENT OF ACADIA COLLEGE.

Art thou so wedded to the Saviour's cause

That, bidding farewell to thy native land.

Thou wilt embark for India's distant strand
To teach the Heathen mild Religion's laws ?
Thou art, for Heaven hath fitted thee for this

By giving thee that knowledge of the truth.
And that sweet earnest of immortal bliss,

Which stamp decision on the aims of youth :
Then, though we still would keep thee here — depart

Constrained by that great lovo that rules thy inmost heart.

MCPHERSON S POKM?

Go, "with our feeble aid, our fervent prayers, —
Go, with thy God to comfort thee, to guide
The bark that bears tliee safely o'er the tide.

And give thee strength for ^Missionary cares.

Go, holding not thy life's frail tenure dear.
As counting all the hopes of earth but dross,

That but some other souls may near

Of the salvation purchased on the Cross,

And casting down their senseless idols, own

The Lord our God Most High, who sits upon the Throne t

LAMENT.

bl'i

SUGGESTED BY THE DEATH OF MR. JAMES KNAUT, AND ©RIEF

OF HIS BUOTHEK.

Thou art buried, my Brother,
On a distant island shore ;

We were dear to one another.
But the happy past is o'er ;

Thou shalt come to charm thy mother
And the homestead scene no more.

If our human hearts were aching
When we caught thy parting sighs.

And their love has since boen waking
With the hope that seldom flies, —

They are bruised now and breaking
O'er a thousand severed ties.

rhrone I

AND ©RIKF

LAMENT.

We were glad when thou wast near us.
Youthful, beautiful, and brave ;

We have none like thee to cheer us
As we breast affliction's wave ;

If we call, thou canst not hear us
In thj resting-place, the grave.

Yet we may again behold thee,
Not on this unstable strand.

But where love may long enfold t^ee.
In the glorious spirit land ;

Where the deathless have enrolled thee
In their bright rejoicing band.

Brother, whom to lose seem'd madness-
Happy brother, thou hast crossed

O'er the fitful sea of sadness,
Where the soul is wildly tossed,

To the land of life and gladness ;
Thou hast gone, but art not lost.

So, while life's quick pulse is beating.
We will think, to soothe our heart

Of the moment of our greeting
In the country where thou art.

And the rapture of the meeting
Where the happy do not part !

■V

100

MCPHERSON S POIJMS.

HOPE IN GLOOM.

What though no present prospects ope,.

To cheer the hearts that pine,
Come let us cherish hope, sweet hope.

That better dajs will shine.
Life's slmdows cannot always last,

Joy's sun at length will rise,
And we shall smile at trouble past.

Beneath auspicious skies.

True, we have proved the sickly care

Of promised bliss delayed, —
And s" ernly struggled with despair,

Uncheered by earthly aid.
Yet, we but bear what all have borne —

The common lot of ill,
And though our brman heaits are torn,

Have source of comfort still.

Though want and pain combine to crush

A frame not over-strong,
Their dismal boding cannot hush

The spirit voice of song.
True, they may wake impassioned griefs

Ami waste my being's spring
But I shall soar, to seek relief,

Where thought is free to sing.

'g:

HOPE IN CL005L

Cut off, for lack of promised aid^

From common worldly weal,
I hasten to the eilent shade

That sorrow's wounds may heal ;
There will I rear my humble cot,

A home of love and peaoe.
And toil, contented with my lot.

Till all my sorrows cease-

101

Our fields of yellow ripening coria

Shall rustle in the breeze.
And birds of blessing sing at morn.

Amid GUI' laden trees.
Our humble toil shall crown our board

With coarse but welcome fare,
And we shall use our little hoard

Without the sigh of care.

Then, though no present prospects ope,

To cheer the hearts that pine,
€ome, let us cherish hope, sweet hope.

That better days will shine.
Lif<)'8 shadows cannot always last,

Joy's sun at length will rise,
And we shall smile at trouble pai^

jieaeath auspicious skies.

102

MCPHEASON S POEM 3.

POSSESSIONS.

A cot for shelter from the storm »

A couch for calm repose ;
A fireside comfortably warm

'Then winter sheds his snows ;
A iittle farm won from the wild,

By years of toil and care ;
A happy wife — a laughing child,

IMakc all my prospects fair.

These are the little and the much.

That give existence •'est,
And aid the grateful thought j tliat toucis

The fountains of the breast.
I own a portion of the earth

On which Thy smiles are shed,—
A mind exultant in the gift

Of bliss as well as bread.

Great Parent ! how shall I express

The gratitude I feel ? —
With what impassioned words address

The Source of all my weal ?
Formed, fostered by Thy heavenly poirer;^

And wooM to thy control,
I give Thee back thy priceless dower-—

Hushed heart, and soaring so\iI.

THE IMTALID.

103

THE INVALID.

(6.)

I long to breath the free glad air,

The balmy breath of spring ;
To gaze on all things bright and fair,

And hear the wild birds sing.
I long to feel thy genial heat

*' Thou world-reviving Sun ;"
And taste again the waters sweet

That down the hill-side run.

Confined to this delightless room

For weary weeks of pain,
I sigh to bask amidst the bloom,

Of nature's vernal reign.
I long throughout the breezy day

To rove in yonder fields,
And win the spirits fresh and gay

That life in action yields.

Not yet its glorious leafy bower

The forest reassumes,
But sweetly, in its sheltering bower,

Acadia's emblem blooms.
Bright birds amidst the woodlands sing,

Their summer loves begun ;
Gay insect tribes are on the wing,

Disporting in the sun.

■t,

■ K
1

-t

104

mcpuerson's poems.

Though Spring may not rejoice my sight,

It is a joy to me
To know that oth((rs blees the light

That shines upoii the free.
I hear the blithsome song at morn,

The holy hymn at eve ;
And hope, of tribulati/jn born,

Forbids my heart to grieve.

Methinks I knew not how to prize

Young health's delightful glow,
Till sickness dimmed my lustrous eyes,

And laid my vigour low.
Perhaps, ungrateful for the good

With which my cup was crown'd,
The Giver was misunderstood

Until His mercy frown'd.

So be it : Let me hurablv bear

The afflictive portion given, —
Since e'en affliction shows the care

And tender love of Heaven.
Amidst the still-incroasing pains

Of this frail form of dust,
Still more of Him my soul attains,

Still more to Him I trust.

COMPENSATION.

105

COMPENSATION.

Oft when I feel the tide of song

Rush o'er my fitful heart,
Misfortunes dark attendant throng,

And mental pain, depart.
Though *' Fate " withhold Affection's smile,

And damp my native fire.
Sweet spells my lonely hours beguile

Whene'er I strike the lyre.

Communing with the glorious things

In earth, and sea, and sky,
A living well of gladness springs

In deserts parclied and dry.
Though poor in this world's needful gold,

And doomed to sigh alone.
E'en I have mental wealth untold

O'er all creation strewn.

f-.

11'

.■:l
. I

Tru': — I have sighed for Learning's Fount,

And spread my feeble wing, —
But may not scale the rugged mount

That guards the sacred spring.
The cares that vex the generous soul,

The common needs of life, —
Pain, sickness, hope-deferred, control

The mind's immortal strife.

I
i

106 Mcpherson's poems.

Yet what though adverse fate oppress,

If man has learned to soar
Above the deep condign distress

That dims this earthly shore ?
He hath rich scenes of calm delight.

When, conscious of her wings,
The spirit gains her starry height,

And in her sadness, sings.

Thus, though too oft o'erwhelmed in gloom

That love may shrink to share,
There still is much to make my doom

Not all too hard to bear.
And though so wearied with the strife

Of this world's rugged ways,
^ I feel that patience sweetens life,

And brings some sunny days.

Then leave me to the lot of tears,

To which I strive to bow —
And which, familiar with my years,

Ye may not alter now.
I have small earthly wish or aim,

But to employ my span.
Preserve an independent name,

And die — an honest man.

Bid others hope — assist the young,
Whose hearts are buoyant yet ;

For mine has been too darkly wrung ;
My earthly hope has set.

.r-^^

MEMUUY.

107

I know that life must henceforth be

A pilgrimage of pain,
But, oh I I trust I hourly see

The chastening not in vain.

MEMORY.

Dost thou ever think of the days gone by,

When our hearts were yv ung and free, —
When I was the star of thy loving eyt,

And thou wast a world to me ?
Dost thou yet remember the i.appy t.jie,

When, singing a song of glee,
I gathered the flowers of thy own dear clime,

From the wild-wood bowers, for the ? V

Dost thou ever think of our walks of love,

When our hearts into one heart grew,
As the shining hosts of the halls above

Look'd out from their realms of blue ?
Oh ! past, long past, are those happy days,

But ray first love still is true.
And I feel so worn by ,h^ world's cold ways,

That I wish those houi j were new.

Dost thou ever visit the haunted glen.
Where the brooklet's song was sweet,

And, freed from the gaze of inquisitive men,
I sat at thy maiden feet ?

.»

108

MCPHERSON S P0EM3.

Dost thou ever visit the wood-bine bower,

That lent us its cool retreat,
When the summer beams at the noon-tide hour

On the fields in fervor beat.

Art thou still sheltered by that dear home

Where we sat when the storm was high,
And the wind rushed on like a cheerless gnome,

With the wail of the wintry sky ?
Dost thou still make one of the household band

For whose social smiles I sigh,
Or art thou afar from thine own dear land,

And alone in the world, as I ?

ANTICIPATING JUNE.

raise me from my couch of pain,

And bear me to the door,
That I may see the green glad earth,

And clear blue sky once more.
What myriads wing the quick fresh breeze,

From dawn to close of day,
While such as I, diseased and pale,

Sigh feeble life away.

I love the hill-top, the green heights,
My soul hath freedom there ;

And in my days of dear delights,
Health came upon their air.

ANTICIPATING JUNE.

109

And now, though worn with weary toil,
And weak with wasting pain,

I long to trace their winding paths,
And taste their sweets again.

But stay ; the winds are yet so chill

The enjoyment might be death,
For 1 am much too weak and ill

To meet their searching breath.
May hath been wet, and cold, and dark,

But June may set me free !
And I retrace my favorite walks,

Along the flowery lea.

^'il

But why this clinging tD the world,

Whose cherished hopes decay ?
Is it to bend at mammon's shrine ?

Or walk in wisdom's way ?
Give me to choose the better part,

The truth that makes us free,
And yield the lowly contrite heart,

O gracious Lord, to Thee !

Thus, whether life continue long.

Or death's cold touch be nigh,
Teach mo to sing salvation's song —

Or let me joy to die.
Thou hast upheld my feeble soul,

Through varied good and ill.
And now, that waves of trouble roll,

Thy love supports me still.

110

MCPHERSON S POEMS.

SUNSHINE AND SHADE.

Once more my much loved Harp, once more

I touch thy tuneful string,
For half my care might well be o'er

And hope consent to sing.
Kind friends have smiled upon my gloom

And cheered my wayward fate,
But Oh, this little bit of bloom

Has haply come so late ;

So late ! The pain that racks my breast,

Denoting quick decay,
Forewarns me that I soon shall rest

Beneath Oblivious clay,
Yet will their kindness soothe the grief

Of premature decline,
Their generous presents bring relief,

If not to me, to mine.

I go from heart-consuming care,

From yearning sighs for peace,
To sleep in death's cold chambers, where

Life's withering troubles cease.
Yet seems it hard for one so young,

So fraught with fancies high,
To leave his much-loved harp unstrung,

Besign his hopeH, and die.

WHY MY SONG IS SAD.

Ill

Yet I am all unmeet, unmeet,

To struggle with my lot.
And now ray weary pilgrim feet —

Would seek some quiet spot.
Oh ! lay me, after all my pain,

On earth — my mother's breast,
And grieve not that ye miss my strain,

For I shall be at rest !

Say ! what have I to live for here

When health and hope have fled,
But desert prospects far too drear.

For feeble steps to tread ?
What, but the sinking of the heart

Beneath despair's control,
Wild tears of anguish wept apart,

And bitterness of soul ?

WHY MY SONG IS SAD.

Ye ask me why my song is sad

In life's meridian day ;
I answer. How can it be glad

When Hope withholds her ray ?
She has not shed her warmer beams,

Upon ray night of gloom,
And now withdraws her faint cold gleams,

And leaves me to my doom.

112

MCPHERSON S P0E3IS.

Spring cairiG — I scarcely breathed her air.

Or looked upon her sky ;
And Sarnmer's charms, exceeding fair,

Passed half-regarded by.
Now Autumn, crowned with golden sheaves

Brings bread and bliss to toil,
But mine are but the withered leaves —

The crushed heart's piteous spoil.

Unconscious, unafraid of guile,

I build my tower — on dust !
Alas ! how man can smile anO: smile,

And break his brother's trust.
What change of fate can make amends,

What after smiles repay,
The pangs infixed by friendo, strange friends.

That flatter and betray !

The wronged Athenian sought a cave

Beside the lone sea-shore, —
And I, too long a suppliant slave,

Will trust the world no more ;
Taught, by the sorrows of the past

How scathe the false world's fires.
Will shun the noisy scene at last

And nurse subdued desires.

But who can brook the bitter thouiiht

That earthly trust is vain !
The wisdom is all dearly bought

That brings such burning pain.

TAKE BACK THE LYRE.

113

We waste the sunny years of youth,
We lavish manhood's prime,

To prove, and weep, the cold, cold truth
So oft revealed by time !

Then ask not why my song is sad,

My soul forlorn and drear ;
Can high-v/rought minstrel souls be glad

When hope forgets to cheer ?
Can hearts bowed down to earth, maintain

Sweet patiep-ce, and be still,
No earth experience but of pain —

Small prospect, but of ill ?

The birds, that all the bright day long,

Breathe rapture on the ear.
Have sorrow in their sweetest song.

When Winter rules the year ;
So, when life's glorious rainbows fail,

And hope forsakes our sky,
The proudest spirits inly quail,

The coldest bosoms sigh.

'd'i

TAKE BACK THE LYRE.

O give me back the lyre whose strain
Sent light o'er life's unclouded spring,

The lyre that long hath idly lain,

That ceased with youthful Hope, to sing.

'M\

ll'i MCPHERS0N*3 P0EM3.

Perchance I yet again may wake
The voice of dim departed years ;

Perchance this icy spell may break
And melt to sad yet sootliing tears.

Alas ! my youthful fire i? o'er —
The strain is sad and lifeless all ;

Th.is time-worn lyre i;an but deplore

The grief, wbich holds my heart in thrall.

The loved who woko its voice of i.a, lli,
Have ceased their radiant light to shed ;

And life to me is dark, and earth
Has gloom from deserts of the dead.

Away, away — take back the lyre !

I cannot wake its gladdening tone —
I cannot now its chords ins|)ire,

Each cherished earthly hope has flown.

Take back the lyre — its mournful strain
Accords not with its notes of yore ;

And oh, it adds but moro of pain
To think its last glad song is o'er.

A LUCID INTERVAL.

115

A LUCID INTERVAL.

The spirit of the dreamy past

A bright perspective drew ;
But wakeful life is all o'ercast,

With truth's ensomber* d hue ;
I could not in my joy believe

The warning of the wise,
That pleasure sniileth to deceive.

And Peace \mt sings and flies.

I longed for Manhood's active prime,

But now I turn, in tears,
Unto my Boyhood's happy time,

My unreturning years ;
I linger o'er their treasured things,

As raisers o'er their gold,
And weep that young Delight has winga

That may not be controlled.

For rao to sigh foi Learning's store,

Is but to feel the sting
That waits on those who try to soar

On poor Misfortune's wing.
" The cares that vex the generous soul —

The common needs of life —
Pain, sickness, hope deferred, control

The mind's immortal strife."

r'^

116

MCPHERgON S POEMS.

My lot has been a wearied lot,

With only, at the most,
The limits of a little spot

That clouds had not engrossed.
But though the gloom that marks my brow,

Is cold within my heart,
My soul has garnered much, that now

I would not have depart.

The Past instructs the Present, — I

Have learned with one of yore,
That all is vain beneath the sky

Unless wo seek for more.
Life has a bitter cup at best —

But if its hopes be all,
Its pleasures lack their native zest,

And prematurely pall.

When want restrained my youthful fire,

I bade my harp eomplain ;
But now along each trembling wire

There breathes an humble strain :
The night that closed around my way

Is still without a morn.
But, oh ! of sacred Reason's ray

A steadfast star is born.

FORaET ME.

117

FORGET ME.

Forget me ! — all my love and care.

My smiles and tears forget ; —
My youthful hopes were bright and fair,

But Fortune's light hath set.
Through life these last sad words of mine.

This hour, do not recall ;
I would not that a tear of thine

For one so lone should fall.

Forget me ! — think of me no more —

Or let my memory be
Like that of one whose strife is o'er.

Whose wearied soul is free.
My youthful hopes were bright and fair^

But Fortune's light hath set : —
Forget me — all my love and care.

My smiles and tears, forget.

i"M

FORGET TIIEE

f >'

Forget thee ? — Oh ! it may not be—

Thy love hath o'er me cast
A spell that still will turn to thee,

And wake the happy past.
When first in thi ; culd world we mot.

And heart counnuned with heart»
A seal upon my soul was sot,

That may not hence depart.

118 bicpiierson's poems.

Forget thee ? — Yes, when these worn eyes
In dreamless sleep shall close —

When this lone heart that loves thee, lies
In Death's serene repose.

Through life will I the past recall-
On thee my thoughts shall rest, —

For thee my frequent tears shall fall,
My sighs be unrepressed.

THE LIGHT 01 THY SUNNY EYE.

The light of thy sunny eye once moro

On my pallid brow is beaming,
But, dearest, my joyous days are o'er,

And the zest of my heart's fond dreaming.
My lip may be seen to wear a smile,

The wreck of my youth illuming.
But the shade that passes my face the while

Tells that no earth hopes are blooming.

Full quickly the silver cord of life

Will the spoiler's cold touch sever.
And my soul shall be freed from its pain and strife,

And return to its bourne forever.
Like a bird unbound from its weary chain,

Aloft in its gladness springing ;
Even so may I soar to the heavenly plain

Of its joyful freedom singing.

I WOULD I WERE A CHILD AGAIN.

119

I WOULD I WERE A CHILD AGAIN.

I would I were a child again

To sit among the flowers^
And gathering garlands for my hair,

In summer's sunny hours.
I would I were a child again,

As careless and as gay
As when I laughed as others laugh,

And played as others play.

Oh, happy times ! — how soon exchanged

For after years of care,
The darkly trying lot of earth.

That man is doomed to bear.
Oh, happy time ! — when on her hope

My tender mother smiled —
I would I were a child again —

A young and happy child !

iU •

strife,

THE BUDS HAVE BURST FORTH.

The buds have burst forth into beautiful flowers.
And the birds that I love have returned to my bowers,
The green leaves are glistening, the grass and the grain
Give promise of harvest to gladden the swain.

^ 1

120

MCVHERSON S TOKMS.

But I have no plca.sure, no sense ;in : no siglit,
In all that once gave me such purer deliv,)it.
I know there are greenness, and beauty and flowers,
And fairy birds singing in favourite bowers ;

But sickness of body, and sweet hopes deferred,
Have rent the sweet ehords which the joy-spirit stirred,
And now the fond poet of nature and truth,
Is wasting away in the summer of youth.

Going down to the grave, leaving kind friends to weep,
And a loved wife to mourn with a sorrow too deep ;
And a young child to miss him and ask for his face,
When a cold chilling void shall have darkened his place.

Yet God gives me patience — I wish to be still,
Behold his salvation, submit to His will ;
And I trust that ray hope in His mercy and Love,
Is an earnest of rest in the mansions above.

ONE DAY NEARER.

One day nearer to the grave —
Swiftly suns and shadows roll.

Bringing on the solemn time

Which shall try the trembling soul.

ONTJi LAY MEARKF..

121

NQVS,

Ono (lay nearer to the grave—
I am ba.steniuL'" to its bourne,

I am witlierlng from the world.
Never, never to return.

stirred.

Well, the "Will of HeaTcn bo done >
I have toiled for humble bread, —

Wliile the better part — the soul —
Siglied, neglected, — pined, unfed.,

to weep,
eep;
face,
]is place.

)ve,

'Tis an awful thing to die —

Even the Christian feels it such j

Shrinks to close the weary eye,
Dreads the last congealing touch.

But, Maker of my frame,

Thou, if sought aright, wilt give :^

I have sinned — incurred thy wrath ;
Christ has died — and I may live.

<}ivc me — earnestly I crave —

Faith, and hope, and perfect love-
Save me, in Thy mercy save !
Take mo to Thyself above !

Thou canst justify the soul

Which has sinned, and yet be just.

Justify, and make me whole —

Whole in heai% and spirit-trust.
6*

122

MC I'HERSON S PO.KaCte'-

DEPARTING.

They tell me that the smiles of Spring^

Are bright upon the earth,
That every green and flowery thing

Is bursting into birth.

They tell me of the songs of birds,
The murmuring of the rills,

The cheerful sounds of flocks and herds
Upon a thousand hills.

In vain for me, the birds sing cheer,
The flo ^ers unfold their dyes ;

The sights I see, the sounds I hear,
Are human tears and sighs.

Yet why should I lament the doom
That gives this mortal, rest,

Ere thousands lose their youthful bloom
And buoyancy of breast ?

Why should my loving friends deplore

My premature decay t
I long to spread my wings and soar

To everlasting day.

vrrr

TO MY WIFE.

wrc

Tliey sliould not grieve because I go.
On glad wings — like a dove —

From sin and suffering below
To endless peace above.

123

My hope is strong — I have no fears :
I hear my Saviour's voice —

O friends, O kindred, dry your tears.
Look heavenward, and rejoice.

TO MY WIFE.

(7.)

Oh give me music in my pain,

To wrap me from my care,
Sing, dearest, sing, some holy strain,

To some old saered air.
Thou canst not raise me from my bed,

Of early sad decay.
With all the tears which love may shed.

Or vows which love would pay.
But thou canst bear my spirit up

Upon thy winged voice,
Till I forget lifers bitter cup.

Breathe freely, and rejoice.

If poor our lot, and small our hope.
If brief as thought our bloom,

Oh, let us trust that light will ope
To cheer this hour ef glooin.

124

3i'C PHEESON'^a POEMS'

My heart, long pierced with various para,-

Sees gleams of light divine,
And still would labour to retain

Some hope for thee and thine.
I ask no long protracted stay,

To waste my midnight oil ;
But strength to smooth our humble "way^

And health for useful toil.

But He v/ho rules with gracious sway^

jMay other path decree ;
And I, at life's meridian day,

Be wrapjxjd in earth from thee I
But lot not grief, too bitter, rend, — >

But tru&t, and trusting yrniy,
The widow's God, the orphan's friend,

^^^ill be thy stuff and sta;v .

THE WISH.

0, make my lone and lowly grave
Beneath the bright unbounded sky.

And let no cypress o'er it wave,
No marble meet the traveller's eye.

I would not be, among the crowd,
In common sepulchres inhumed ;

I woull not with the rich and proud
Be mid the pomp of State eutomb'id..

XIIK WISH.

125

Enougli for me, if wliilc I live

I strive my wayward heart to keep ;

My foes — if I have foes — forgive,

JiOvc ull, and v;eep with those v/ho weep.

Enongli for mo, if when I die

I leave no heart which mine hath wrung,—
No tear but in AfToction's eye,

No line the good may wish oinsung.

Eiiongli, if o'er my dreamless vest

The Mourner, Night, comes down to weep ;

If there, us oft in moments hlest,

The stars keep watch, the moouboams sleep.

Wh}?' trouble wliere we leave our ^^lay,
When sunnnoned to the spirit sphere ;

Yet I this v/earied frame would liij
la some sweet spot to feeling dear.

Then make my lone av.d lowly grave
lieneath the briglit unbounded biky,

Where flowers n. •; bloom, and green grass wave,
Mm), wild birds .sing, and soft winds sigli I

NOTES TO " PERSONAL.'

(1.) The corresi)on(Tent addressed in these lines, was the person
mentioned in meuiojr, as an early friend (A' the Poet. At the date of
the lines, Mr. G. was editor of a Provincial paper, — and in its column*
had made eomplimentm-y reference to Mr. McPherswi. The Mr.
Elder mentioned in one of the verses, was, at the time, a candidate for
the Baptist ministry. He had WTitten poetical ])io<^es above the com-
mon order,— one of thosi, entitled "The Grr^ve Yard," is alluded t&
in the Address to Mr. G. Mr. E, died befoi-e he liud attained to what
■ ■- called, the prime of life.

(2.) By tlve term "mystic tie" as used in this and one or two
other places, is to he understood, the poetic sympathy :. the bond c*"
litemtuie, taste and habits, which is supposed to influence lainds
havhig poetic propensities and training.

These lines are also addressed to Mr. G. Each stanza has-

via',

, . anticipation of iSpri

enjoyments, which the little pastoral includes.

(4.) lantlie was taken as an occasional designation, instead of
Irene, for the same person.

(5.) Sec Memoir, under title " Particulars of Poems," for some
«xplanation in reference to these lines.

(6.) This little piece Is chai'acteristic of McPherson's muse : The
sympathy with natiire, — the personal wailings, the consolation in
good exijerienced by others, die devotional tuvtiency, and the liquid
flowing of metre, — have echoes iu numy parts of the volume.

(7.) Tills loving lament is nmrkcd as McPhe; son's "last"
poetical effort. What thoughts are suggested by the circunastanc*.
and by the tone of mind expressed

8-t': ■

he person
he tiate of
s colnmns
The Mr.
kdidaie for
; the com-
aUuded ta
id to what

rve or two
e bond c^
!\ce minds

stanza has.

iiid finely

the paint-

the social

instead of
for some-

PART II.

INCLUDINO :

"DEVOTIONAL,"
"TEMPEKANCE KEFOEM,"

((

OCCASIONAL."

use r The

ohition iu

le liquid;

" last "
imstaBCftj,

" Tlio noblest claim !
To walk with God, — to be divinol}' free,
To soar, and to anticii^ito the skies."

" 'Tis nurtur'd thirst,—
Of ruinous excess, that freiimmt prompts,
The baser action, and imbrutes the man."

" Studious of Soni,",
And yet am1)itious not to sin<^ in vain,
I would not trifle merely,"

DEVOTIONAL.

The humble aspirations of the Jieart towards Divine power and
goodness, — tlie elements of worsliip, love and constant service, are
understood by the term Devotion. The Poet says — " An undevout
Astronomer is mad " ; — but should not the reproof have much wider
range ? Man, in his nature and history would be the problem of the
universe, if divested of that linking with Divine excellence, which is
characteristic of true Devotion ; — which refines and harmonizes hu-
man life.

The natural history of humanity proves how almost universal is
the instinct of Divine worship ; — in its higlier and purer Christian
aspects it doubtless develops the highest order of man ; the most dig-
nified, beneficent and ha|)py condition of the human race, created,
to some extent, in the likeness of the Creator.

The diflferent ranks of Society, have greatly different objects and
principles of daily life ; — but sincere devotion harmonizes every
grade. In this r-jspect, the Queen on the throne, and the most
obscure cottager, \ia\ti the same great Centre of solicitude, of prayer,
of praise, and of consolation .

The Poet has been called the priest of nature : one who stands, as
it were, between the seen and unseen worlds ; Avho allures to the
genial and beautiful and good ; — who gives a language to the other-
wise inarticalate principles of animate and inanimate existence,
causing appreciation and concord, where otherv.ise ignorance and
confusion might prevail. Such an estimate may include much of
poetic license, — but it also includes much of the real essentials of the
poet's office, — and except it apply, to some good degree, a student
may labor i^*' rhetoric and rhyme, with but few claims to the title of
true Poet.

The verses which follow are pervaded by much of the aspiration
and genuine philosophy of aeccptahlo devotion, — while the melody of
the language, and vividness of the thoughts, will be found, in many
parts, calculated to combine feelings oi interest and pleasure with
those of utihtv asxl dutv.

1 >J

DEVOTIOKAL.

PRAISE.

(Note 1.)

Let ocean, the Creator praise ;

Let rolling floods adore Him ;
Your song, ye lofty mountains raise,

Ye hills, be glad before Him.

Ye winds take up the lofty lay,
And, on your mystic pinions.

The wonders of His fame convey
Throughout his vast dominions.

Ye storms that war with ocean hoar,
Are heard the chorus swelling ;

Still in your elemental roar,
Of great Jehovah telling

ft'

Ye lightnings which attend his car.
Ye loud o'erwhelming thunders,

Proclaim his awful name afar
And speak his gracious wonders.

132

MC PHERSON S POEMS.

To Him, ye trees, your honours wave,
llejoicing on the mountains ;

To Him ye streams, the vales that lave,
Leap gladly trom your iountains.

Let all his creatures sing his praise,
Let sinners fear before him ;

Let saints the grateful anthem , ■">,
And every soul adore Him.

WORSHIP.

(2.)

" It is good to be here." — F£T£R.

Saviour ! it is good for us

To be assembled here !
For when we meet to worship thus,

Thou art divinely near.

:J!lli
it.

We cannot see Thee, as of old

Thy favored people saw ;
We cannot, as they did, behold

Thy look of love and awe !

Yet where Thy trusting servants meet,

In Thy most holy name,
Thy presence makes devotion sweet,

And purifies its flame.

PRAISE AND PRAYER.

Thy smiles such peace and joy impart
That doubt and darkness flee,

And leave the altar of the heart,
Not all unmeet for Thee !

133

PRAI^

^^RAYER.

Creator of this mortal frame

With mystic sense inwrought,
And glowing with the vital flame

Of heaven-aspiring thought ;
To Thee, Lord, enthroned above

In glory's holiest glow,
How deep a debt of thankful love

Do we, Thy creatures, owe.

Each day and every hour displays

Thy Providential care ;
Thine eye is over all our ways,

Thy influence every where.
Then aid, aid us to maintain

The birthright of the free,
And strengthen thou the golden chain

That binds our hearts to Thee !

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134

MC PIIERSON S POEMS.

PRAYER MEETING MELODY.

! Thou at whose coming the glad heavens bow,
Shed on us the light of Thy countenance now ;
Let Thy love to this waiting assembly appear —
To the souls of Thy servants be graciously near.

Thou hast promised that thus when Thy followers meet
Thy presence shall bless them — their union be sweet ;
Then, 0, to Thy people who seek Thee, draw near,
That we all may confess '* it is good to be here ! "

We would fain give ourselves to our Lord in our youth,
To be kept by the Spirit of Meekness and Truth,
To be taught by Thy wisdom to walk in Thy light
Until sin shall have vanished, and faith become sight.

Then, 0, to Thy worshipping servants impart

Due fervor of soul and contrition of heart.

That, released from the sins that beset and enthrall.

We may serve Thee with freedom and love Thee o'er all !

teach us henceforth so to number our days

That the works of our hands may be done to Thy praise,

That all who our patience and faithfulness see,

May learn of our Master, and glorify Thee.

SABBITII SCHOOL HYMN.

135

SABBATH SCHOOL HYMN.

Saviour ! we have come to-day
To be guided in Thy way,
To be led in early youth
In the peaceful paths of Truth.

s meet
sveet;

ear,

r youth,

:ht
sight.

rail,

e o'er all !

We are seekers — and would find
Singleness of heart and mind ;
We are learners — and would be
Great Instructor ! taught of Thee !

Bless our faithful pastor's cares,
Bless our Sabbath teacher's prayers ;
Make them useful, fervent, wise,
Righteous leaders to the skies.

Bless this sacred Sabbath day —
Bless Religion's widening sway
Into thy good hands we fall-«
Guide, protect, instruct us q\\ I

THE Compensation.

\ s%

I i

hy praise,

What ma**^er where our lot be cast.

If Ve perform our part,
-^"^ beaT the sunshine and the blast

Inpur5*Jof heart;

13G

Mcpherson's pobms.

What matter how obscure the place
In which we run our earthly race,

Or how these bodies smart,
If we secure a home above —
An interest in a Saviour's love.

The trials of this sinful sphere,

This darkly passing shore,
Though oftimes many and severe.

Shall soon afflict no more ; —
Will be forgotten when we gaze
On glory's bright undazzling blaze.

And heavenly heights explore ;
For He who sits upon the Throne
Has fadeless pleasures for His own !

HOPE. .

Did Hope, thc*^t fails the righteous never.
No light beyoi?^' the grave impart —

Did Death divide oX souls for ever.
How sad were the sui'viving heart ?

There is a land of life unending.

Where those who serve the Lord shall meet,

A land where soul with soul is blen ' '^g,

Where love is pure, and servir'"'

^ « sweet.

Tins BEST.

Though here, by many sorrows riven,

Though here, the prospect cheats our eyes,

To faith the glorious hope is given.
Of boundless bliss beyond the skies.

Then let us, our intent declaring.

With steadfast faith and constant prayer,

The ills of life with patience bearing,
For that eternal rest prepare !

[87

THE REST.

(S.)

Rest, for all the broken-hearted,
Joy, for all oppressed with grief;

Bliss, for all the good departed,
And for every ill, relief !

Think, who lay in lowly manger !

Who contemned the world's vain pride !
Who was deemed a wandering stranger !

Who Heaven's gates hath opened wide !

Joy, then, — Joy ! and onward pressing,
Toil ye for the glorious prize ;

Sweet the rest, the promised blessing.
Which shall greet the ransomed eyes !

138

MCPHERSON S POKM?;.

IIEAA'ENLY GUIDANCE.

Christian, life, like yonder ocean.

Teems with dangers dark and drear ;
Now, its waves, in wild commotion,

Now, in tranquil rest, appear.
From its shining, peaceful seeming,

Christian, thou hast much to fear,
But with heavenly beacon beaming.

Thou th;' bark may'st rightly steer.

Then, should stormy wrath assail thee !

Crowding ills thy lot betide !
Fear not, — help shall never fail thee ;

Deity thy guard and guide.
Though nor time, nor space can bound Him,

He can in the heart abide.
Peace and joy diffusing round Him,

Strength and solace, by thy side.

BEREAVEMENTS.

0, why from all things which the heart

Delighted, fain would keep,
Is hapless man decreed to part

In anguish wild and deep ?
0, why must sad bereavement's tears

In hopeless grief be shed,
While love lament through lonely years

The absent and the dead ?

A NIGilT THOUGHT,

i;n>

Sin, sin, that erst from Eden'.s ])Oweis

Exiled the primal pair,
Has marked this weeping world of ours,

With cold sepulchral air.
Hence, all that spring on earth must fade ;

And all of mortal born,
Descend to silent solemn shade,

Waiting the rising morn.

Then, bursting from the silent tomb.

Shall all, the crown that win,
In bright unwithering beauty bloom,

And endless life begin.
While sweetly through unbounded space.

Beneath unclouded skies,
Glad songs of praise, for saving grace>

From golden harps shall rise I

A MGHT THOUGHT. ^

As purely in the human breast

Should Virtue's image lie.
As in the lakelet sank to rest.

The mirrored, starry sky.
But lured by Pleasure's phantom, man.

Unmindful of bis goal.
Seeks not to gild his little span,

The light that guides the soul.

140

MCPHERSON 8 P0EM3.

MOURNER.

Mourner, hath thy friend departed ?

Beams no more the loved one's eye ?
Art thou lone and broken-hearted —

Worn with woe, and prone to die.
Though thy path be dark before thee,

Though there seem no cheering ray,
Light will rise, and shining o'er thee,

Turn the darkness into day.

Maiden ! youth and health may leave thee,

All thy young delights depart, —
Time, of mortal joy bereave thee,

Earthly love forsake thy heart ;
Yet, if when thy path is shaded,

Thou eanst soar above its gloom,
O'er thine earthly prospects faded,

Brighter scenes for thee shall bloom !

Mourner, weak and worn with sorrow,

Grief but for a while will last ;
Joy returneth with the morrow.

And the night will soon be past.
Much to cheer thee still, is given —

Much to chase away thy fears ;
Feelings wearied, worn and riven —

Soon shall know no bitter tears.

BESIGNATION.

141

RESIGNATION.

(*•>

Mortal ! o'er thy lot repining,
Lift above thy tearful eyes ;

Earthly ills, our hearts refining,
Fit us for our native skies ;

Earthly joys when most declining
Seem to bid us most to rise.

If thy heart too proudly clingeth
To this changeful world of ours.

Marvel not if sorrow springeth
E'en from out its fairest flowers ;

Earthly passion surely bringeth
Darkness o'er its brightest bowers^

Think how oft thou blindly swervest
From the light and life divine —

Think how little thou deservest,
While so much of good is thine,

And, if Heaven thou rightly servest.
Thou wilt then no more repine I

EARTH.

(5.)

Cling not to Earth-— her frequent smile.

Polluted in its spring,
Is oft the changing phase of guile —

The charm before the sting.

:if

142 Mcpherson's poems.

She mockotli those who love her — makes
Their wiser actions gross mistakes,

And clips the spirit's wing.
Cling not to earth — her flowers depart,
And leave a wintry dearth of heart.

We labour more to live unblest—

To nurse these sensual fires,
Than to secure the glorious rest

Reserved for pure desires.
The life to come is shaped in this,
Which hath sweet preludes of the blisa

To which our hope aspires ;
But though we sigh for happier skies,
We trust the world, and miss the prize !

Thou scom'st the tyranny of man,

Stoop not to that of lust.
Which desecrates his little span,

And bows him to the dust, —
Obscures the glory of the soul
Ambitious of a heavenly goal.

And violates her trust !
Alas I that he who frees the slave
Should tread on Moral Freedom's grave !

Cling not to earth, but cease to prize,

That syren, Sensual Joy,
Which, fair to inexperienced eyes,

Allures but to destroy.

EARTHLY JOY.

143

Not all the blandishments of art

Can hide the worm that gnaws her heart,

And works the soul annoy ;
Blight lurks beneath her balmiest breath,
Her straying feet take hold on death.

Seek "Wisdom ; she is knowledge, truth,

The soul's superior sight.
The fountain of immortal youth.

And ever new delight.
Her right hand offers length of days.
Her left, true riches, pleasure, praise,

And all things pure and bright.
Her ways are pleasantness and peace ;
Time fails, but her rewards, increase.

EARTHLY JOY.

I ask not earthly joy

Which cannot long endure.

But that which Time may not destroy ;
The exquisite and pure.

'An

I would not linger here —
When called to rise and go

To that all-radiant upper sphere,
Unstained by sin and woe.

144

MCPHERSON S POKUS.

Earth's frail and feyerisli clay
Suits not the rising soul,

That loves to wing her joyful way
To her eternal goal.

E'en now, as on the verge

Of mortal life I stand.
There come sweet angel-thoughts that urge

My thoughts to that far land.

Yes, I will bear this strife,
And wait with hope, till He

Who spake the world to light and life,
Speak my hashed spirit free.

VOTARY OF PLEASURE.

Thou that now in youth enjoyest

That which seems suflficient bliss,
Thou that all thy powers employest.

Like thy precious years, amiss ;
That immortal soul debasing

At the world's unholy shrine,
There thy fond affections placing,—

How can lasting peace be thine ?

XnC VOTARY OV PLEAStJRE,

Ho who yields to dark temptation,

He who persc'veres in sin,
Thouglitless of his high vocation

Feels an aching void within.
Virtue's peaceful paths forsaking,

Wandering fiom the ways of right,
'Grief for guilt our souls o'ertaking,

We partake the penal blight.

Wisdom long hath loudly spoken.

Though she speaks too oft in vain,
That when Nature's laws are broken

Man must suffer varied pain :
Use the world, as not abusing

That which to well-being tends ;
Take thy lot without refusing

Teachings, Heavenly Goodness sends.

145

Though the things of time are twining

Round the young and ardent heart,
Yet, their specious lures declining.

Wisely chooso the better part.
Hail the light that, shining o'er thee,

With its pure prophetic ray,
Will dispel the gloom before thee

And make sure the doubtful way.

This is but the dawn of being,
This, Probation's trial hour ■;
Here, man seeth not, or seeing,

Slumbereth on where troubles lower.

7»

MCPHERSON S POEMS.

Then, no longer idly dreaming, —
Life's corrupting pleasures fly ;

And, thy precious years redeeming.
Lay up treasures in the sky.

TO A CHRISTIAN FRIENDi

My Brother I though thy lot be low.

Thy burthen hard to bear^—
Thy earthly pleasures dashed with woe^^

Thy earthly peace, with care ;
Hast thou not still amidst the gloom
Some little tints of heavenly bloom,

Some flowers serenely fair —
Some pure bright antepasts of joy
" Which time shall never dare destroy?

Those lights that cheer thee on thy way

Are shadows of a sphere,
To which, as fades our evil day,

The spirit draws more near :
Then faint not thou, but fix thine eye
In patient hope beyond the sky

Till that bright world appear :
Life's little ills will soon be o'er.
And sin and sorrow vex no more.

TO A CHRISTIAN FRIEND.

^0 matter where our lot be cast,
If we perform our part, j|

And bear the sunshine and the blast

In lowliness of heart ;
No matter how obseure the place
In which we run our earthly race—

Nor how these bodies smart.
If WG secure a home above —
An interest in a Saviour's love.

The trials of this sinful sphere—

This doomed and passing shore,
IrVhieh, though, at intervals, severe.

Shall soon afflict eo more —
Will be forgotten when we gaze
On Glory's empyrean blaze,

And all of heaven explore ;
For He who sits upon the Throne
Will give us pleasures like his owe.

This state'of trial may be best

To fit us for the sky,
If here the soul were fully blest

The body might not die ;
Even Enoch, of angelic worth,
Who died not, was not left on eartk.

But taken up on high.
This life is lent us to prepare
.^or endless habitations there

^48 Hc phbbson's wmm.

Then, when thy spirit is oppressed

Aud wearied with its clay,
Look upwards to thy home of rest,

And faint not in the way.
Be ever faithful to the Lord,
Nor wander into paths abhorred,

But watch, and, watching pray.
Tea — listen for the Master's voice,
That thou mayest answer and rejoicci-

Eemember, He who bore our sins

Was tempted as are we ;
And know, the triumph but begins

When suffering sets us free.
Submit implicity to Him,
Before whom bow the Cherubim,

And he will succour thee ;
He knows our frame, that we are dust^
And well rewards our humble trust.

WHAT WE SHALL BE.

Eye hath not seen, ear hath not heard^
And thought doth not conceive

How great the bliss to be conferred
On those that hear the Saviour's wordV
And Ueaupg it, believe.

HESREW MELODY.

149

y pleasures that in Ed-en smiled,
ilowever bright and fair,

Ere sin the peaceful haunts defikd,
Can with that bliss compare.

We Itnow there is a better shore

By no dark cloud o'ercast.
To which the joyful soul shall soar
And dwell delighted, evermore^
When earthly life is past

We know not what -we there shall be-
Yet not unlike to Him,

At whose bright presence earth shall
And every star be dun.

HEBREW MELODr.

SPRING.

The sky relieved of Wintry gloom

Is smilingly serene.
The dews descend — the fields resume

Their garb of cheerful green.

Sweet sounds of re-awakening mirth
Borne on the south wind's wing,

.And bright things bursting into birth,
Tell of the balmy Spring,

ate PHERSON S POEM?.

The singing of the Me birds —
The turtle dove^s soft voice —

The bleating flocks, the lowing herds —
Bid Judah's sons rejoice.

Then, ob ; like these, no longer mut©'^.

Awake the tribute dear ;
Bring forth the timbrel and the lute»

And bail the opening year.

Shall we forego the pleasing theme ?

Shall we be silent long,
"When hill and dale and gushing streaaeu

Are jubilant with song ?

No ! Hebrews, be the duty ours

To bid glad echoes leap,
From favored Salem's holy towers

To Judali's farthest steep.

Bejoice, for these sahibrious skies,
These tender, blades and flowers,

Ijike love's pure light in yoiithful eyes^.
Betoken happier hours.

Hejoice, for e*en the winged air,
The green and flowery sward,

Are grateful for the smiling caje*
©f Israel's glorious Lord,

WASTED GIFTS.

Let pious thankfulness impart

Its music to the voice,
Great gladness gush from every heart,

And every soul rejoice.

151

WASTED GIFTS.

Man, gifted with a glorious soul, —
Oft grovelleth in the dust.

Unmindful of its native goal,
Its pure immortal trust.

Time, talents, many a precious gift
That Sovereign Bounty lends.

Are wasted in the wild unthrift,
On poor precarious ends.

Though lapsed from happy first estate
In Eden's peaceful bowers,

Thou mightst again be good and great
With such angelic powers !

But why despair ? Did Jesus die,
And will not Heaven forgive ?

Oh ! Faith, lift up the tearful eye,
And Hope shall whisper — Live.

152

MC PliERSON S P0£il3.

Poor trembler ! Heaven has done its part

In love to ransom thee ; —
Yield thou the broken contrite heart,

And Grace shall set thee free.

OUR LOT.

i'li

ill''

ii;:

Our lot in the world may be dreary,

Our portion of comfort but small.
The spirit bo joyless and weary,

And sorrow the bosom enthrall.
Even then, from kind Heaven appeareth

A light, in the midst of our gloom,
The soul of the lone one it cheereth.

And causeth the desert to bloom.

he fortune we trust may deceive us.

The friends that we love may depart,
But sunshine will never all leave us

If virtue has home In the heart.
Albeit we journey in sorrow,

Remote from the regions of rest.
Yet here, even here, wo can borrow

A beam from the land of the blest,

REPROOF.

153

REPROOF.

What boots it now for me to live ?

Tlie few that loved me once are dead !
The joys which social love can give,

No more their sunshine o'er me shed.

I long for Nature's last reprieve^
That quiet which the weary crave ;

This darkened earthly scene to leave
And sleep serenely in the grave.

Hush, mortal, hush ! — Thy Maker's will
Has placed thee in this world of care,

And thou its hour of seeming ill

In patient hope shouldst humbly bear.

Though earthly joy has veiled its ray.
And thou hast wept its dim decline,

The transient cloud may pass away
And pure unfading light bo thine.

Oh ! why should mortal man complain
Of tribulation's just award,

If all this weary load of pain

Prepares the soul to meet her Lord.

154

MCPH^msON's POEMS.

Be this our being's primal aim —
Chief end for which \^e sojourn here-

To laud oar glorious Maker's name,
And seek a higher, nobler sphere !

!i,

RECOVERY.

Disease's hand was on my heart,
And darkness on my mind ;

The frequent tear would sadly start,
And hope was half resigned.

But Mercy's healing angel came,
And bursting through the gloom,

Restored the eye its former flame,
The check its early bloom.

As if by some supernal power
Revived, the spirits spring ;

The soul forgets her darkened hour,
And Thought resumes her wing.

Great Being whom with awe we nam
From whom all blessings flow !

Restorer of my fevered frame —
How much to thee I owe !

JOY AND INNOCENCE.

When comes at last, as come it must,
Since we are doomed to die —

The hour when dust returns to dust,—
take my soul on high !

155

i^'.
1 1

JOY AND INNOCENCE.

(8.)

The hosts around the eternal throne,

Began a louder song,
As man mid Eden's flowery zone.

Joined Adoration's throng.
As bowing lowly, pure and calm,

And free from guileful art,
His morning hymn and evening psalm

Were offered from the heart.

That pristine song was soon unsung.

For sin's impending doom
Darkened the scene so fair and young,

And soil'd the spirit's bloom.
But, oh ! again that song shall rise,

Amidst the courts above.
When Death shall give us to the skies,

To sint; Bedeemino; Love.

Nay — when this strife shall vex no more,
That glorious strain shall be

More sweetly grateful than before —
Ascending from the free.

156

MC PHERSON S POEMS.

Tho radiance of her native source—
The beauty of her spring —

Will give the soul more grateful force,
And more exultant wing.

MORTAL AND IMMORTAL.

To lay the wearied body down
And soar beyond the sky,

To wear an everlasting crown,
Why call we this — to die ?

To die ? Pure spirits do not die ;

They but resign their clay
To dwell in endless life on high,

To triumph o'er decay !

For them, to close the mortal sight,
To yield the mortal breath,

Is but to rise to Heaven's own light,
To wake from sin and death !

Then who would dread ihe mystic change

That gives him to the sky.
Through all the unexplored to range,

From star to star to fly ?

PROVIDENCE AND GRACE.

15-

PROVIDENCE AND GRACE.

All beings bow to thy behest — before Thee
Archangels veil their faces with their wings,

Cry, Holy ! Holy art Thou ! and adore Thee,

With songs harmonious, — Sovereign King of kings.

We, too, whom thou in innocence created,

But who have gone like foolish sheep astray,—

Kindred to dust, yet to the skies related.

Would seek Thy footstool, and be taught Thy way.

Our myriad sins rise o'er us like a mountain,
But since Tliy mercies evermore endure,

We would approach the rich exhaustless fountain
By which the vilest may be rendered pure.

We come to Thee, of all our sins repenting.
Our purpose open to Thy searching view;

Then righteous father, in thy love relenting,
Absolve our souls, create our hearts anew.

Lord over all ! thy countless creatures making
The daily objects of thy pitying care —

Not e'en the humblest in its path forsaking,—
Warm thou our hearts, inspire our humble prayer.

158

MC PUER80N 3 POKMS.

Wo plead no merit of our own before Thee—
On no self-righteousness we urge our case —

But, still, as oar great Refuge, we adore Thee,
And plead the influence of redeeming grace.

Hear us in Heaven, Thy eternal dwelling,
Grant gracious solace to the laboring breast,

And soothe our sorrow with the peace, foretelling
Abundant entrance to our glorious rest.

CHRISTIAN SYMPATHY.

Every human bosom beareth
Griefs that must be all its own,

But the heart is cold that careth
For itself alone.

Not in solitary places.

Not in deserts let me dwell ;
But where cheerful human faces

Wear affection's ypell.

Would we but perform our tlut}^ —
But fulfil the law of love,

Earth would shine in moral beauty
Like the world above.

THE SOUL.

159

It is sin that makes us weary
Of the objects balf-<livine —

Sin that miikv- the green earth dreary,
And the soul repine.

All supernal spirits holy,
JSver in their songs rcjoieo ;

And when men are meek and lowly
7het/ have one glad voice.

THE SOUL.

When this fair world, this peopled star,

Sprang into life and light,
And music echoed from afar

To hail the wondrous sight ;
The Sovereign Power who moulded then

This perishable dust,
Inspired it with a deathless mind —

A high and holy trust.

He meant not^that this glorious spark

Of spiritual fire
Should gleam awhile amidst the dark —

Then moulder and expire ;
But that, though placed on changeful earth,

It should continue pure,
Increase in knowledge and in worth.

And endlessly endure.

tin

160

MCPHERSON S POEMS.

But this bright spark — the aspiring soul, —

The light of eartlily frame,
Has wandered from the mild control

Of Him from whom it came !
She still has thoughts of that glad sphere.

Fount of essential beams,
But holds the ** passing world " too dear,

And glories in its dreams.

Oh ! had she kept her pristine state

Of innocence unstained, —
What mind could tell how great

The bliss she might have gained ;
E'en now, if guided by the light

That shines around her way,
She may secure a glorious height

Amidst the realms of Day.

SO LIVE.

Begin the day with prai.'jo and prayer,

Nor let the dews of evening fall,
Without invoking still the Care

That guides, supports, protects ns all.
So live that still remote from strife.

Your heart the song of Peace may sing.
And life — the Christian's happy life —

Be shielded by a seraph's wing.

INVITATION,

161

So live that when ye come to die,

Ye may not fear the herald, Death,
But close in peace the weary eye,

And calmly yield the ebhing breath.
So die, that when ye reach the shore

To which the ransomed wing their flight,
Your souls may bask for ever more

Amidst its uncreated liijiht.

Begin the day with praise and prayer.

Nor let the shades of evenina: fall,
Without invoking still the Care

That guides, supports, protects us all.
Where'er — whatever your earthly lot.

Though low or lofty, love's retreat,
Make Home a consecrated spot,

A place for Heavenly spirit meet.

INVITATION.

Ho ! all ye sons and daughters

Of Adam's fallen race,
Come to the living waters

Of reconciling grace.
Come to the Meek and Lowly —

The Heavenly and the Hi^h,
Who makes tlio contrite holy,

Preparing for the sky.

162

MCPHERSON S POEMS.

He comes to you — perceive Him,

As all that man most needs ;
He speaks to you — believe him,

And follow where he leads
Aooept his great salvation

In this the day of grace,
And run, through all temptation,

The Christian's faithful race.

Forsake the worldling's madness ;

Shun sin's polluting breath ;
Earth's joy is often sadness —

Its hopes and fears bring death.
Avoid the tempting Charmer

Though he seems e'er so wise j
But put on heavenly armour

And win the priceless prize.

Be patient in your duty —

Be humble, harmless, wise,
And walk in moral beauty.

The path to peaceful skies.
Make lowly meek confession

Before the Throne of Grace ;
Be prayerful in depression.

Worthy, in time and place.

So shall ye win approval
From God's benignant eye,

And realize removal
To homes above the sky.

PlLGRIMAQlf.

1C3

So shall ye find life's measure
Run o'er with peace and joy,

Prelusive of the pleasure

Which time shall not destroy \

PILGRIMAGE.

When wearied in the toilsome way
O'er which to future worlds we wend,

How sweet to think that life's dim ray

With heaven's transcending light sliall blend,,

That we may quit this suffering clay,
And bask in bliss that ne'er shall end.

Oh ! if there were no brighter sphere
To which our better thoughts could rise^

How joyless were our sojourn here —
How wintry most that meets our eyes {

But Hope, the child of Faith, can cheer,^
And point him to his native skies.

€1;

;i'«3i:

Then let not tears our vision dim —
Nor wasting woes our soul oppress ;;

There with the glorious Seraphim,
May we, in blissful songs, confess

Our ever grateful love to Him
Who gave abounding happiness.

164

uc ph£rson's poems.

Oh ! faint not, Pilgrim, in the way
That leads to that immortal clime,

Bright with the beams of seven-fold day,
And lovelier far than Eden's prime ;

But gladly hail its faintest ray,

That gilds the sonibre wings of Time.

There, in those bright unwithering slries.
That home of changoicss peace and joy,

No heart-wrung tears shall dim the eyes,
No want, no care, no sin annoy;

But Love's eternal incense rise.
And praise be our divine employ.

PILGRIM.

Pilgrim, is thy pathway dreary?

Are its earthly hopes denied 1
Is thy spirit sad and weary ?

Fear not, God is still thy guide.
His all-seeing eye beholds thee

E'en when dark afflictions lower;
His almighty arm can hold thee — •
He be thy eternal tower.

I -t! 1 '

Hoping Pilgrim ! thus surrounded-
Thus assisted and sustained, —

All thine earthly foes confounded,
All infernal foes enchained,---*

THE PASSING BELL.

16&

Though thy lot be somewhat dreary
While thy spirit sojourns here, —

Be not sad, nor faint, nor weary.
Thy heavenly mansion near.

THE PASSING BELL,

The Minster's solemn toll—
A warning voice I hear ;

It tells mo that another soul
Has left this changing sphere !

But, Ah ! from that deep knell
The listener may not know

Whether the parted soul shall dwell-
In endless joy or woe !

Whatever life may give,

Where'er I pass my days,
Oh ! lot me like the Christian live

In Wisdom's pleasant ways.
When that dread hour drav.'s iw^x

In which this life must cease,
Then let me like the Christian die—

Oh ! let my end be peace I

166

MCPHERSON S POEMS.

THE BLESSED.

*' Blessed and holy is he who hath part in the first Resurrection ; on
such the second death hath no power." — Rev. 20, 6.

Blessed he who sojourns here,

Mindful of the law of love,
Which would draw this nether sphere

Nearer to the world above.

Blessed he who loves the light.
And pursues eternal Truth ;

She shall smile upon his night
And renew his spirit's youth.

Blessed he whose days are pass'd
In the service of his Lord ;

He shall win the Crown at last.
He receive the great reward.

Blessed he who shuts his eyes

On the " earth's sepulchral sward,

In the hope that he shall rise,
To the bosom of his Lord.

j»

Death and Hell shall have no power^
No control o'er such as ho ;

Death shall be his triumph-hour —
For his soul shall then be free.

ENQUIRY.

167

ction; on

Free to wing her joyful flight
To the glad immortal streams,

Which reflect their living liglit
Oa her peaceful pilgrim-dreams.

Free to sing eternally —
Free and happy to accord

Glory, honor, majesty.

And dominion to her Lord !

ENQUIRY.

IP'

IS;;:

Shall I explore the clime

Of Life's immortal prime ?
The land of Love, whose atmosphere is Truth ?

Should I attain that sphere

Whose Hope is now so dear ?
And wear the white robe of eternal youth ?

And quit this poor estate

To soar away elate,
Behold God's g' ry, listen to His voice —

Join tho Redeemed Throng,

Whose rapture speaks in song-
Dwell in the Heaven of heavens ?ud rejoice ?

168 Mcpherson's poems.

If so, then let me cope
In faith and patient hope

With this enfeebled and polluted dust;
O let me now begin
The race that seeks to win

Tho great reward provided for the just.

ON ZION'S HILL.

On Zion's everlasting hill

The Lord of Glory reigns,
Performs his own eternal will

And awful state maintains.

He re'igns ! — let all the earth beware,

Ker myriad isles obey ;
The wonders of his name declare,

And bow before His sway.

Let sinners, ere to-day be o'er,
Or fierce his anger burn —

Confess Him, Lord, His aid implore.
And to His altars turn.

For soon to judge the assembled world
The mighty Judge shall come.

And, Time's vast chronicle unfurled,
Strike rising nations dumb.

IIAUVEST.

169

Then shall the wicked trembling fly,

Buset by galling chains .;
The righteous rise to world's on high

Where their Redeemer reigns.

Prepare, my trembling soul, prepare-
Walking in wisdom's way —

To meet thy Saviour in the air
At that last awful day.

HARVEST.

Ye favoured of the earth, whose hands

Have tilled the fruitful soil.
And who with joyful hearts have reaped

The sweet reward of toil ;

When, garnered all your goodly wealth,

The festal board is spread,
Forget not those that, favored less,

May lack, yet ask not, bread.

Give, as the All-Bountiful provides,

Much, from your teeming store.
And He, observant of the heart,

Will bless your lot with more.

5^'^l

170 mcpherson'b poems.

To Him whose goodness crowns the year.
Your hearts and voices raise,

For all his wondrous mercies past,
In grateful prayer and praise !

If haply o*er the waving fields
The mildew's breath has passed,

And left the tender ears unhurt
To crown your hopes at last :

Oh ! think how little man deser\:?3,
And thank the Lord of All,

Who bids His sun serenely shine^
His rain benignly fall.

THE PRESENT HELP.

" God 13 our refuge and strength, a very present help in
trouble."— Ps. 46 and 1 .

Though rough at times our path appears,

And dark our earthly sky, —
Yet still, amidst our anxious fears,

The Lord, our help is nigh.

Since He is our defence — the soul

May be unmoved by fear.
Though from their seats the mountains roll,

The earth forsake her sphere.

3ar,

sent help in

:s,

roll,

TU£ PAESENT HELP.

His Strong right arm from every ill,

His trusting servants saves !
His voice the troubled deep can still,

Though loud the tempest ravea.

To simple souls, opprest with woe,
The meek, the pure in heart,

Will He His wondrous mercy show.
His sovereign grace impart.

And as a father to his child

The tenderest pity shows.
He visits us in mercy mild.

And healing halm bestows.

His strong right arm, His saints upholds-
Their comfort, strength and stay !

His love our feeble hearts enfolds,
And cheers our thorny way.

Though round us lie a world of gloom,

If He His smile bestow
The wastes rejoice, the deserts bloom,

And living waters flow.

Then faint we not in all the way,

Since thus upheld we roam
As pilgrims of a transient day.

Who seek a fairer Home !

I'l ' ?

172

HCPIHRSON S POEMS,

PROBATION.

We are here to redeem the fleeting time

Of the few and evil days,
To journey in hope to the better clime

On which the believing gaze.
Wo are here to encourage the lowly hearty

To cherish the purer flame,
And to parry tlie wily tempter's dart

With the shield of a righteous aim.

The future depends on the- path we choose

On the right of the race we run ;
We have heaven's bright summit to gain or losc-^

We have hell's dark depths to shun.
Then such be our course that our friends may say

At the close of our weary strife,
That we rest from the toil of our pilgrim-way

In the land of eternal life.

Shf
An

THE SPIRIT'S DESTINY.

This frame will vanish — death control

The glory-throned eye ;
But life's true life, the inbreathed soul.

May, king-like, death defy.
Say, midst ethereal space around.
What sphere her parting flight shall bounds

What region pure and high ?

Th(

Thj
Thi

Wl
Wl

on, (51

Bey

Th(

For

Th:

on, CITE TUK GLORIOUS SPIRIT WINGS.

173

Shall she escape the abyss profound,
And rest wheio angel songs abound-
In heaven, lier native sky?

?. !J

The choice is hers, for slie is free—-

To now no longer stray,
To bow the heart and bend the knee —

To walk in wisdom's way.
That peace which nought beside Hecuri>fl,
This high prerogative insures, —

Then why will she delay ?
Why spurn for earth the abundant joy
Which shall not feel the world's alloy,

Nor fear the world's decay ?

on, GIVE THE GLORIOUS SPIRIT WINGS.

0, give the glorious spirit wings.

That she may take her way
Beyond the bounds of earthly things —

The presence of decay ;
And hold her high career along
The regions that are glad with song

And bright with upper day.
For ain hath made the world so drear
That she is but an exile here.

It'

■ft

174

ilCPHERSON's POKMS.

Instruct her to revere her powers

As like to those above,
Where rapture wings the endless hours,

And all the clime is love.
Instruct her so that she may soar,
And soaring reach her native shore-
Returning, like the dove,
To that glad home, that heavenly ark,
Her refuge when the skies are dark.

EARTHLY HAPPINESS.

If while we sojourn here we find

An object of delight —
A kindred heart — a cultured mind —

An eye serenely bright,
How briefly is the spirit blessed.

How soon the phantom flies,
And leaves the lone and joyless breast

The thought that latest dies !

A few fond meetings of the heart,

A few impassioned hours,
A wild farewell — and then we part

To weep our faded flowers !
Even if in Love's sweet ties we spend

A long bright life of joy,
The thought that this must surely end

May much of bliss alloy.

trut: happiness.

But this cold region of deony

Is not our final goal ;
This load of perishable clay

Can not detain the Soul.
When life's refining fires are o'er,

Her triumph-song may rise
Upon her own immortal shore,

Beneath her own glad skies.

175

TRUE HAPPINESS.

Mortal ! on whose fancied bliss

Falleth Disappointment's blight,
Learn how much of peace we miss

When we seek not joy aright.
Though for happiness we sigh,

Not from evanescent things
Not from aught beneath the sky,

But, from heavenly Hope, it springs,

True, in Nature's sacred ties.

In the eye with feeling bright,
Much of hallowed rapture lies,

Much of sanctified delight.
Yet the sacred tics of love

Can refined delight impart,
But when He, who dwells above,

Purifies the wayward heart.

!f:

17G

Mcpherson's poems.

I to tl'is passinp; sceno have clung,

Dreaming not its flowers could fade,
I have wept the loved and young.

In her last low dwelling laid.
But though earthly hope has flown,

Though I meet no kindred eye.
Though I pass my days alone,

Sweetest solare still is nin;h.

Soon will mortal life be o'er.

Soon, to dwell in bliss complete,
On the glorious spirit-shore

Pious love the lost shall meet.
Brightly, from that distant rphere.

Beams there on the soul a ray.
Which, when hope is buried here,

Still the drooping heart can stay.

Worldlings hoard their treasures here.

Christians in the realms of day,
In that bright unsullied sphere

Which shall never fade away.
Therefore seek — with earthlv love —

That which ever will endure ;
Place thy thoughts on scenes above,

Heaven's triumphant hope secure.

X'RAYBR.

177

PRAYER.

Father, sin is still oppressin;^,
Yet to mercy's fount we flee,

And, our wretchedness confessino-.
Look for present help from thee :

Send, oh ! send Thy choicest blessing,
Set our drooping spirits free.

Saviour ! sin is sorely trying ;

But wert not Thou more sorely tried ?
Therefore, all our wants supplying,

Pity us— thou Crucified !
Meek in heart and self-denying,

Keep us near Thy healing side.

Comforter ! Who long hast led ua
By the still small mystic voice,

And in desert places fed us

With the bread of Mary's choice ;

Now, as oft aforetime, aid us,
And instruct us to rejoice.

Lord, the Father ! hear, Oh ! hear u».
And thy sacred cause defend ;

Lord, the son ! bo ever near us,
Intercessor, Saviour, friend ;

Lord, the Holy Spirit ! cheer us,
And bo with us to tho end.

^li

IHi

178

MCPHERSON S POEMS.

PRAISE.

Great Being ! whose omniscient Eye,
While wearied Nature sleeps,

O'er all beneath the starry sky
Untiring vigil keeps.

To Thee, our Guide through dangers past,

Our fathers' God and ours.
Beneath whose smile our lot is cast,

We consecrate our powers.

To Thee we lift the glowing heart

And bend the willing knee ;
For Thou dost light and life impart,

And we would worship Thee.

For this fair world, for yon bright sun.
For health and length of days —

For all which Thou for us hast done,
Thine holy Name we praise.

Grant that Thy Saints may more and more
Thy pure requirements see, —

More humbly at Thy feet adore,
Moro fitly worship Thee.

SORROW MAY HER VIGILS KEEP.

179

For, sweet on Zion's sacred mount
The voice of prayer to raise,

Thy wondrous goodness to recount,
Thine holy Name to praise.

SOLICITATION.

Glorious Author of Creation —
Being holy, wise, and just !

Turn not from the adoration
Of Thy creatures of the dust ;

But, accept our poor oblation,
And confirm our humble trust.

In the conflict of temptation —

In affliction's darkest hour,
Thou hast been our great salvation.

Van and rear-ward — shield and tower :
Aid us in the extollation

Of thy ever gracious power !

SORROW MAY HER VIGILS KEEP.

Mortal from whose path has fled
That which made existence bright.

Tears may well be freely shed
O'er thy star's extinguished light.

i!m

180

mcpuerson's poems.

Since thy friend has passed *• that bourne
AVhenco no traveller returns,"

Mourn — but not as those who mourn
One, whom hopeless love inurns.

Sorrow may her vigils keep,
Tears may o'er the lost be shed ;

Heav'n in mercy lets us weep —
Jesus wept o'er Lazarus dead !

AVHOM HAVE I BUT THEE?

Almighty, whom have I but Thee

On earth beneath, in heaven above?
Thy Sovereign power created me,

Thy spirit gave me life and love.
If friendships of the world bo poor,

And ill repay the trusting breast,
Thy friendship, infinite and pure,

Contents the heart with perfect rest.

Yes ! when I rightly ask relief.

Thine ear is open to my cry ;
The world may fail to heed my grief.

But Thou wilt succour from on high.
As, when Thy chosen asked for bread,

Sweet manna strewed the desert way,
So Faith looks heavenward, and is fed,

And guided to the realms of day.

NEGIiECTKD MEUCIKS.

NEGLECTED MERCIES.

181

O shame ! that in a " Christian Land"

Where pure Religion's light is shining,
There are who still that light withstand,

The blessing which it gives, declining.
O shame ! th?.t talents wisely lent

Are still by most unwisely wasted, —
The days of this short life, misspent,

And mercy's living streams untasted !

Alas ! that such should be the case

Of any who have heard the story
Of Kim, the Lord ! whose wondrous grace

Can make us meet for endless glory !
But pride, sek'-will, £ome favourite aim —

And that dire sin — ^^Procastination''^-
Make deaf our ears to virtue's claim

And bar us from a great salvation !

Thou who art enthroned above,

Groat source of this mysterious being,
Whose nature and whose name is Love —

Unseen of mortals, yet All-seeing !
Aid me, a creature of the dust.

Whose soul is clogged with earthly leaven,
To place with Thee my constant trust,

That I may dw ill with Thee in Heaven.

1S2

MCPHERSON S P0EM3.

III

THE LIFE BEYOND.

To think that all were starless night,

When mortal life is o'er,
Would quench the friendly, lingering light

That cheers this pilgrim shore.

For e'en while sunk in sordid gloom,
We doubt the Sceptic's creed,

And shrink from cold Oblivion's doom
As from a hideous deed.

Lives there a sojourner on earth

Alive to due control,
Who mourns not for the primal worth

That blessed the human soul.

Hence hope we for a sinless sphere,

A land of life and light,
Whose skies are always soft and clear,

Whose bowers are ever bright.

Oh, with what sighs, the wearied long
To taste the living streams ;

To sing the everlasting song.
And realize glad dreams !

THE BETTER WORLD.

183

Yet wait t^oy man's appointed time,

Augmenting still the fire
That, caught from that unsullied clime,

Will to its source aspire.

THE BETTER WORLD.

" There is another and a better world."

•* Another and a better v/orld !"

What comfort to the heart,
What gladness to the troubled mind

Does that high thought impart !
" Another and a better world !" —

How pure the soul should be
That dares in humble faith to hope

That better world to see !

From that immortal glorious sphere

Beyond the darkened tomb,
A single star, but dimly seen,

May light us through the gloom.
And, oh ! how soon would Reasca fail,

Without that brighter ray.
To guide us to the better world

Along so dark a way !

18i Mc piiehson's poems.

I hear a deep mysterious voice
That oft the heart has stirred ;

It tells of songs of endless joy
By mortal ears unheard ;

It tells the Pibrim darklinix hero
To fix his weary eye

U])on that land of living light,

That "better world

on high I

NOTES TO "DEVOTIONAL/

1. This may be considored as illustr.ative of a remark in intro-
cliK'tory paratrrapli of this section. The Foet essays to give a
rcasoinng voice to inanimatu nature.

2. Another instance, that INIcPIierson's verse consists of simple
heart-expressions, rather than of more pretentious elaborations.

3. Tliis reminds of the effects of a " sunburst " on the kndscape.
Clouds break, j^lory streams down, and a pulse of admiration pervades
nature.

4. A little melody, casting rays of light on the dark places of expe-
rience.

5. A piece of fluent moral philosophy.

6. This • id verses succeeding, such as Immortality, Better "World,
t^-c., — afibrd cheering contrast to the mournings and laments that
precede.

TEMPERANCE.

The Temperance Reformation attracted tlie attention, and enlisted
tlie sympathies, of McPhei-son, at an early period of his more mature
life. One of his first literary eflbrts, of any pretension, v/as an
address on the subject, read at a meeting]? in the locality where he
resided. He frequently gave a ready aid in carrying out organiza-
tions by means of varied services, although he lacked cither the gift
or the habit, of extempore speaking in public.

A reflective mind, of a moral tone, and vivid perception, would bo
apt to adopt very fervid sentiments in relation to the effects of the
common traffic in intoxicating lifiuors, and to the toleration and coun-
tenance of such traffic, by those trom whom a different course of con-
duct might be expected.

In the verses which follow this notice, zeal for a gocd cause will be
visible; — and the same quality is still more observable in verses
which remain unpublished.

In reference to Temperance, McPIierson took tlic higher position ;
his creed was, that intoxicating liquors were non-requisite, — were
always dangerous, — were frequently productive of varied evils, — and
that the good of society demanded the total abolition of the common
traffic in such articles. Who can gainsay the principle ? Principles
m- ve slowly however, and a quarter of a century has, perhaps, effected
as much as might reasonably be expected, when appetite and habit,
and other influences, were arrayed in opposition to a question of
moral and social improvement. The triumphant days, hoped for by
the poet, are yet in the future ; — he had the honour, however, of
being among those who saw and rejoiced in the prospect, and who
faithfiilly strove for its early realization.

TEMPERANCE.

THE PRAISE OF WATER.
(extracts from a prize poem of that title.)

(1.)

The essence tortured from the vine

Creates insatiate desire ;
But water, Nature's choice and mine,

Cools, quenches thirst's consuming fire.

This, fresh from Heaven's creative hand,
Descends profusely from the sky,

To fertilize the barren land.

And yiuld the world a rich supply.

The native of the torrid zone,
And he, in polar circle drear,

Pleas'd with such beverage alone,
Prize duly its refreshing cheer.

The traveller on the desert waste
Athirst and worn, imagines this

As grateful to his eager taste
As nectar to the groves of bliss.

188

MC PITKRSON 3 rOEMS.

The product of tlio fiery art

Would mock him, as the mirage, there,
Pour hot Siroccos on his heart,

And drive to frenzy and despair.

But one sweet draught from some lone spring,
O'er whicli the rippling north wind blows,

Would recompense his toil, and bring
A kind oblivion of his woes.

So pants the hart for Judah's streams
Rejoicing in their mountain course,

So longs the pilgrim, tired of dreams,
To drink at Joy's eternal source.

Pure sparkling water yields a dower
Of exquisite enjoyment — yields

Fresh beauty to the rich man's bower, —
Fresh vigor to tlie poor man's fields.

The poor man hath a peer's delight,
When Heaven descends in genial ram,

To call his labours into sight,

And bless him with his waving grain.

Our own Acadia's Emblem dear.
Spring's earliest gift to merry May,

Receives full many an April tear.
Before it blooms beside our way.

THE PKAISE OF WATER.

18U

Acadia, country of my birtli,

Thy streams may not be known to Fame,
13ut those who love thee feel thy worth

In all that human hearts can claim.

Glad rivers course thy fertile vales,
Bright lakes refresh thy verdant hills,

Brooks sing to brooks along thy dales,
Where clear springs run to rippling rills.

Wo lack not water ! but wo thirst

For those sweet streams that fill the mind !
For that deep Fount ordained to burst

With mental blessings for mankind,

fill

;:fiJSl

Ah ! knowledge is a precious boon ;

For Thought, our Angel, has desires.
Wisely to be supplied and soon

vVith that which feeds her glorious fires.

Pure water ! even the name seems bliss !

lanthe, bring the draught I crave,
That I may catch its smile, and kiss

The cooling chrystal of its wave.

What marvel that the Hebrew Chief —
Who felt strong thirst's constraining spell,

And sought kind nature's sweet relief, —
Desired it fresh from Bethlehem's well.

190 MCPIIERSON*S POEMS.

Brethren, when its simple cheer

Prompts, as it may, the heart to sing,

■ Glad thought should seek her native sphere,

And drink at pleasure's primal Spring.

Oh ! precious gift, who Lath not seen

Its glory in the rainbow's hue,

j And in the limpid sparkling sheen

j Sent from the diamond drops of dew.

1 It takes a myriad wondrous forms —

Now floats in mist along the vale—

1 Now soars in clouds — now falls in storms

1 Of rain, and snow, and sleet and hail.

Now, forced by man's arch-agent fire.

It rises into giant Steam,

V Takes mighty wings that doth not tire.

|i: And measures distance as a dream.

1 How sweet to bathe the fervid cheek.

To cool the thought-encumbered brain,

In some glad stream that seems to speak,

Of buoyant health to every vein !

1 How sweet to see it glance along

In sunlit radiance to its rest.

To listen to its murmured song

1 When eve is mirrored on its breast :

THE PRAISE OF WATER.

191

The inebriate cannot prize its kiss,
Its pleasant smile — its cheerful song ;

For sinless nature veils her bliss

From him that works his spirit wrong.

Oh ! will he sink to baser ways,

To swine-like wallowing in the mire— -

By vitiation which obeys

The tyrant call of low desire ?

Can he fulfil a spirit's lot —
Or represent the Eternal Mind ?

The drunkard is himself a blot
Disgrace and sorrow of hh kind 1

The charities that banish strife,
The smiles that bid unrest depart.

The harmonies of loving life,

Possess weak hold upon his heart.

His kindred — must we raise the veil,

To let his fellow-men behold
That mournful mother, weak and pale,

Those children wretched, ragged, cold ?

His step was music doubly dear.

When he was kind and hope was nigh,

But now they shrink from it in fear.
And dread to meet the ** evil eye."

192

MCPHERSON S POEMS.

But, all ! how changed his human voice.

How chill and strange its warmest tone !
Oh fallen man ! is this thy choice —

This dark transforming act thine own ?

Our song would grow prolix to tell.
How his example spreads his vice ;

His followers know its power too well —
Their dark experience should suffice.

As are the sinful, were the pure,

The glad, the free may bow to thrall,

Let those that think themselves secure.
Regard their standing, lest they fall.

For ah ! the Circe of the bowl
Beguiles in so occult a way,

That men are neath her fell control.
Ere hardly conscious of her sway.

The drunkard, like a baleful star,

Casts doubt and dread within his sphere ;

He acts as if to rudely mar

The blessings love considers dear ;

To aggravate his mother's cares.
And mock affection's fondest trust ;

To bring his father's hoary hairs
In silent sorrow to the dust.

THE PBAISE OF WATEH.

193

His brothers, loved in life's young day,
Confess not now his birthright ties,

But pass him in the public way

With burning cheek and down-cast eyes.

His sisters — utter not the name,

Which they, the good, must blush to tear ;
It has become a word of shame

To all to whom it should be dear.

His friends ! but has the drunkard frieads ?

Can friendship breathe in tainted air 4
Howo'er his course began, it tends

To isolation, doubt, despair.

Who would not fly with timely haste
To stop him in his dread career,

And bring him back to be replaced
In lifo and love's protecting sphere !

Friends I Christians ! having shows
That, fearing God, ye love your kind,

Restore the drunkard to his own-
Restore him to the man — the mind.

Heav'n spares him that he may repent-—
Then take him by the trembling hand,

And woo him, from his evil bent,
To strengthen Virtue's happy band.

MCPHERSON S POUMS.

Go seek him when the fiend has fled.
When Eeason reasserts her sway,

That ye may ta':e him from the dead.
To walk in Wisdom's pleasant way.

Go bid hira hope — he needs your aid
Your effort, to support his grief,

Yet bear him to his God, afraid
To trust to any Iccs relief.

So shall ye save a soul from deatli,
And hide a multitude of sins —

So gain the zeal-sustaining breath

From him who smiles when virtue wine^.

Pleased heaven shall shed her gentle light.
In peaceful halos round your heads —

And angel-guardians of the night

Bring balmy sleep to bless your beds.

Whilst, where the savage drunkard frowned,
And famine waved her vulture wing,

Contenting Plenty shall be found.

And those that sorrowed, learn to sing.

His wife, who watched for him in fear.
While anguish rack'd her matron breast,

Shall smile beside her evening cheer.
And welcome home her husband-guest.

THE PilAiSE OP WATER.

His littlo ones shall run to greet
The father they were taught to flee,

Inspire hun with endearments meet,
And prattle on the parent knee.

His hoary sire shall bless his son —
His mother clasp her ransomed boy—

The grateful household, every one,
And even the stranger, share his joy.

Pure water ! were the cup confined

To thy sweet influence alone,
What ills would cease to vex mankind —

What powers of darkness be o'crthrown.

195

Pure water I I rejoice to hear

Thy low sweet murmurs in my dreams.
For they have wings with which I near

The music of the Eternal streams.

When liagar vvatchcd hor fainting cliild.
An angel showed a fountain nigh ;

When Israel thirsted in the wild,
A rock gave out the sweet r.upply.

But mlraclos as great as these

The wise observe around them wrought,
Good yielded, evil turned aside,

By ways for which they take not thought.

196

KCniBRSaif S P0E5IS-.

For Re, who gave the soul her dower.
And taught her to revere her trust,

Confers new mercies every hour —

New forms of life from slumbering dust.

The look still changes to a spring —
The descr still has broad and quails, —

The living stiil look up and sing.
Because His goodness never fails.

Why, man, abuse His gifts, and ioil
To work yourself and others ill ;

Enough the bounty of the soil,
Ttie largess of the crystal rill.

THE EFFORT.
(to the patrons or the " olive LSA^•cn.")

(2)

The river of I>cath was still mighty and dark,
When, praying that ita "waters might cease,

Ye sent forth the Dove from the Temperance Ark>.
With the * Olive Branch,' embleming peace.

Althoagh ye have met with but one partial success.
When compared with the talents employed,

Ye have laboured for Him who has promised to bless.
And whose smile is already enjoyed.

IHE rREIiD.

197

Yc hiyo fi'fteJ some poor wretch from Ebriety's thrall,

And restored him to freedom's repose ;
Ye have rescued some spirit from Danger's appal,

And dispelled the deep gloom of his woea.

Ye have entered some homo which the language of startfe,

And the elinins of oppression profaned,
And have left it a scene where the kindness of life

And the worsliip of God are maintained.

Take courage, and, gath'rins; your strength for the fight,

With the Demon of Drink and his woe,
Press onward, difFasing additional liglit

O'er the way in which mortals should gc.

Your reward, which is richer than gold, ye shall find
In the Disenthralled 's blessing a«d love —

In the sweet sense of having done a:ood to mankind.
And the Voice speaking peace from almve.

SONG OF THE FREED.

We are free— the strong chains of our liondage are brokes.
Our banner of triumph is broadly unfurled ;;

And the halo of smiles that we bear is the token
That we live a new life and enjoy a neiv world.

We have turned with ilrm souls from the cup that decoyed us,
To the sweet gushing waters of hillside and lea ;

19S

MC PJIKKSON S POKMS.

We have burst from the Fpoll that had well nigli flest roved u?.
And re-entered the home.-; of th(i happy and free.

We are free — from the arasf) of tlie hideous Constrictor,

That entices his prey with tlio basfilisk eye,
And in each of our homos tlie ahtd Oflance of a victor

Carries joy to the hearts that were ready to die.
Our wives that were long and unkindly neglected,

Look forward with hope to the bright years to be ;
Our children, tliat iihrunk from tlieir sires, are respected.

As the proud happy heirs of the ransomed and free.

We are free — and bright flowers are blooming around i^s.

Our pathway is strewn with rich gifts from above ;
For the beautiful Spirit of Temperi.nee has found us,

And restored us to much of life's Eden of Love.
We are plenteously fed by the trenius of Labor,

With the sweet fruit that teems on our liberty tree ;
We are blessed with the kindness of friend and of neighbo;

And content with our lot, because sober and free.

We have pledged to bo slaves to the tempter no longer,

We have turned from the mocker that smiles to destroy.
And our fair phalanxed band shall wax stronger and stronger.

Till the round ransoned world swell the anthem of joy.
Heaven smiles on our efforts — our banners are brighten in or

On hill-side and valley, on island and sea,
We pray that the trutli shal go forth as the lightning,

Till the wb.ole human race raise, the Song of the Free I

vivoJ n?.

tor.

jtccl,
le.

1 lis,

RiauT priibKyKiiANcr. 199

luciiT rEPvSEVFJi.vxcj':

(^To Tin: r.vTRoxs of the "olivk uhancii.")

(3.)

Go forth, with tho Etiihlein and Motto of Peaco,

And visit tlie homes of our huid,
Till the sorrows that fl<»w from Intemperanco cease,

At the touch of Sobriety's wand.

Go fortli ill a spirit d(^torinlned, yet meek,

To adiuoni^li, to ])ity, to soothe,
To strengthen the strong and encourage the weak,

In the search after wisdom and truth.

>ighbo-

jer,

>strov,

stronger,

" joy.

tenini;

I'ree I

Aye, forward, confiding in ITim who looks down

On your poorest endeavour in luve ;
For lie, liaving sanctioned your mission, will crown

Your efforts with aid from above.

If ye ever should think of rehixing your wing,
As ye faint with the toil of the day,

Contmeplato the hearts that made happy, will sing
When the Cause that ye plead shall bear sway.

If ye rescue but one from the maelstrom of vice,

From the pit of the morally slain.
Even one, re-illumined and freed, is of price,

And your labour has not been in vain.

200

ucprerson's poems.

But forward, and marshal the hosts of the land
In the phalanx that never shall fall,

Till llio f(je feol the touch of Sobriety's wand,
And the triumph ho eo!iood by all !

TK?dPERANCE.

The man who ?!triv(;th for the inns;tory
Is temperate in all tliin^-s — di,-;inolined
To au<;ht that can eoiiiaminnte tlie mind,

Pla(Md of brow — lord of himself, and free.

Blest witli tlio glori(.iis prlyilt'i;(i — " To Be,"
lie is most careful to preserve his heart
From every snarin'j; l)]cm(li:^hinent of art,

And all excess, which is idolatry.

For what is lia' to him who is the slave
Of Apj'etite, or unallowed (lesire ?

The Good control the lusts tliat are tlie grnvo
Of human peace and joy ; the good aspire ;

And recognizing Virtue's high pursuit,

Seek AVisdoni's tree and share iiiunoitd fruit..

A MONARCH.

A monarch, resting from the fight.
And fainting on the battle even,

Deferred his own intense deiiidit.

And gave the precious draught to heaven.

THE MODERATE DRlNKIiU.

thou, my brother, hear tlie call —
Ik'waro tlic inobriiiliiig w'lr.Q,

And, bursting tVoi:) the tcniptor's thrall,
Propitiate the Power Diviuc.

Escape from Folly's mildew breath,
From Hinfiil Pleasure's charnel air ;

To tamper with disease, is dcatli ;
To sill against the soul, despair.

201

i I

Thou hast a bettor son'>o than lust,
A nobler life than Passion's fiio

rise, indignant of the dust,
Be free, and, day by diiy, aspire.

THE MODERATE DRIXKER.

(4.)

Friend, thou may'st hate a cause of bbamc,

And feel too stroiii?: to fall, —
But he wlio boars the dvij':,:ard's name,

And gropes in night's aytpal,
Was once as conlident and proud.
And seorned to think that he could bow

To so debused a thrall.
But mark tiio in-tructivc sequence well —
Tie trustoil to himself, and fell.

202

lie PIIERSON s rop:M3.

Allured by Fashion's specious guilo,
He sought tlie cheating bowl,

And, lur'd by mocking Pleasure's smile,
liesigncd his self-control ;

Then basely, wildly, madly drank,

Till unconsulted reason shrank
In deep eclipse of soul ;

And he whom love had blessed, became

An object of contempt and shame !

Alas ! how fearfull}'' deranged

The likeness of his Lord !
The " human face divine " how changed,

How forfeit high rcv/ard.
His mind, onco toned to cheerful thought,
Became a fearful waste, where nought

But hideous fancies rise ;
And gibbering fiends, with ghastly glare.
Whisper delirium and despair.

0, shun the rock where lie was wrecked,*

The snare by which he fell ;
Preserve true manhood's scif-respcci,

And honor virtue w^^ll.
False joy may have a syren breath.
But ah I her feet go down to death,

Her steps take hold on hell.
Then leave, Oh, leave her slippery way ;
Seek virtue's path, and reason's ray.

THE MAncii or tiis drunkat^d.

203

Reflect, bow false tlie lurid light

That centres in the howl ;
Reflect, how ruinous the blight

Of Error's fell control.
Then use the boon of life's brief hour
To keep still pure the glorious dower

Of life's best life— the soul ;
Blessed in thyself, by heavenly plan,
Be blessing to thy fellow man.

Feel'st thou the bands are waxing strong ?

Assert thy freedom 7iow I
And stand amidst the ransomed throng,

With heaven-aspiring brow.
The good will take thee by the hand,
And greet thee to their happy band,

And hear thee breathe their vow ;
Oh, turn from folly's dark'ning way.
To wisdom's bright and bright'uing day.

THE MARCH OF THE DRUNKARDS.

They come froni^'palacos and halls —
They come fiom festal shrines.

They come from bare and joyless stalls,
Whero meagre famine pines.

204

510 rilEHSON S POEMS.

They come to break tlio kindly ties,
To cloud the world with woe, —

To mock the o-roans, tlicy cause to rise,
The tears, they cause to flow.

Can music rise where drunkards tread ?

Can sounds but those of fear ?
Their shuddering world is one of dread

-Deep sigh and scalding tear.

"Wronged suQbrlng woman's maniac cry-
Weak childhood's piteous wail —

The broken heart's last withering sigh,
lliso o'er them on the g;de.

The wide world hath few forms of woe
Like those which haunt their air ;

The dark abyssmal depths below,
Give type of their despair.

Men speak of loving life's sweet ties,
Of glorious claims of soul, —

Such have slight beauty in the eyes
AVhich seek the blighting bowl.

They hear of Nature's drink divine,
The chrystal from the spring ;

Why ask that spirit of the vino
That holds the spirit's sting ?

hemoxsti^ance.

205

They take the luring draiiglit, designed

To drown all high desire,
And madly quoncli rGir.orsG of mind

With floods of liquid fire.

They change the *' human face divine,
To loathsomeness and shamo,

They desecrate the spirit's shrino,
And spurn the soul's high aim.

They bear a galling weight of chains
That press them to their graves,

Yet serve the demon that maintains
Dread cmplie o'er his slaves.

Oh I stop, nor steep your souls in crime.

Nor earn an outeai-'t name,
Nor madly seek, with varied woo,

The drunkard's doom of shame.

REMONSTRANCE.

(5.)

Forbear, ye Mamraonitos, to ply

The man-debasing trade,
Wliich, rife with crime's condemning dye,

Is active to degrade.
Forbear, for filthy lucre's sake,

The higher laws of heaven to break.

20G

MC rUERSON 3 P0KM9.

How vast the sum of human woe,
The ills that ache the heart ;

From wholesome plants and genial fruit,
Distilled by wicked art ;

The spirit forced from genial grain
Has men in many myriads slain.

\V here'er Heaven's blessings are abu?ed
There is no smile for peace ;

Wliere'er the liquid fire is used
The better feelings cease ;

And lust and wrous; and cruel strife
Shut out the charities of life.

But ah, the soul, the deathless soul,
O'erwhelmed with sinful gloom,

Unmeet to reach yon blissful goal
Shall dread a ponal doom ; —

Mn.y sink in deep self-sought despair —
The victim of Corruption's snare !

THE FIELD.

The free must arm for more effective war
Against the demons whom their souls abhor.
Rise, fellow men 1 the banners which we keep,
For moral Freedom, brook no idle sleep.

-"^^^

ABJUllH TIIS BOWL. Ii07

To rest from action ere our field be won,

Is to forego, the good already done —

To lose the auspicious day — the hour of prime I

And give the Spoiler fearful rallying-time ! !

To breast the billows of so vast a sea
Of opposition, good men should agree.
Ours be the ear responsive to the call,
To save the drunkard from perdition's thrall ;
Ours be the eye, that while it loves the light,
Fails not to see the poor inebriate's night ;
Ours be tlie unwavering, persevering part,
And ours the generous, genuine Temperance heart,
That nobly vigorous, faints not in the way,
O'crcomes all obstacles, makes no delay ;
And deenip the greatest of its conquests small,
Compared with triumphs which may rescue All !

ABJLTwE THE BOWL.

Abjure the bowl — the tempting bDwl

Which lends but frantic joy,
And is not " wreathed with flowers of soul

JJut cliains that oft destroy.

It is to poor deluded man
As Circe's * up of yore,

And desecrates his mortal ppan
With ills unknown before

iicpiir.nsoN's POEMS.

Stranze that a LeinQ; half divine,
Pcssossed of dcathlcs.s trust,

Should inadlj t;ury at tlio wine
And ci'ovel in tho dust I

Indul,i^e thy lauda^do dosiro
For flights mid purer air,

But bow ?iot to the liquid fivo
Thiit fccathos wiih fell despair.

J*»:

As thoTi wouldst broak ()ppresslo:\'s ch:r,:i,

Spurn Appetite's control;
If thuu ait free from darkening stain,

IVcservc " the wbitenGE] of thy soul.

Let not so dark, so f<)ul a l)l;:^ht^
Obscure thy earthly span,

Assert in heuven- inspiring might
Tlio dignity of man.

THE niOGEESS OF TEMPERANCE.

The cry of mortal misery wont up
From myriads drugged with desolation's cup;
"Weak tender babes, and mournful motliers pale,
The drunkard's victims, raised tlieir piteous wail ;
Heaven felt compassion fur their bitter woes,
And tho bright Star of Temperance avoso.

•iflE ?:iOGHC3!! OF I'KMPDRANCt.

209

Then erowt.ls, tliouirjjt l)3t, vi'tun.e'l with sfladdenino: sont";;,

And brought now p3ac3 to ho.-^onis ontniQjod long ;

Tiicn proved man's heart tlie li^2,ht of woman's truth,

While woman found thi; lover of her yontli ;

Tiion little children, old in grief and care,

First learned to smile, and breathe Affeetion's air {

While fervent '(ope, and Poaee, the tinud dove,

Returned with t'lonty, at the call of Love,

To make the rescued spirit doubly gay,

And guide it, r/nigijig, on it.i heavenwar;! way.

If mortal man may liear the voice of fame,

The moral champion hatli the Cov-emost claim 5

But ho, so bold in every righteous cause.

Is apt to shrink from popular applause ;

His heart best pays him — he hath inward storo-—

And, Heaven approving, what can Earth give more?

False fame may stalk with armies in i's train ;

True, bids each strive for blessing, not in vain.

The world may raise the martiril victor's name,

No suffering.^ dim the moral hero's aim ;

And, wh^n the laurel haih foregone its bloom,

Sweet flowers of memory strew the crood man's tomb.

What though no column pointing to the sky,
May tell the pilgrims whore his ashes lie,
His name, in honour kept, from day to day, —
May live, when towering cenotaphs decay.

Some will have wealth, though wrung fioni misery's grasp,
And forced from famine in its final gasp,
Add hence — -Distilleries and their adjuncts, rise.
Fountains of ill — -mocking the angry skies.
Belching thick blackness o'er the realms mind.

210

MC I'HERSON S rOEMS.

O'er health, and Iiopefs, antl homes of humanlfind.
jMuch hatli been done ! but piteous still the caso
Of countless myriads of the human race.
Day dawns upon us faintly from afiir,
And slowly rises llefoi uiation's Star I
That star shall culminate, that Moral Day
Extend its hcalins; animating sway ;
Peace, like a river of refreshing flow ;
And smiles of joy succeed the tears of woo !

dacular voices, heard in many a clime.
Proclaim the auspicious movements of the time.
Faith lifts her eye, and Hope's angelic wing
Ripples the waters of Recovery's spring ;
Improvement's flag is gloriously unfurled ;
The bow of promise spans the sufFerlng world !

Much hath been done ; — but what stern toil remains
Herculean task, to break the drunkard's chains —
Control false custom — free the moral slavif —
And raise the soul from 31ammon's iron 2;rave !
But who will falter? — wiio withhold his name
To save a brother from the paths of shame 'i

O Sons of Freedom I well niio;ht bitter tears
Bewail the carelessness of thoughtless ye? s;.
Proceed in faith impenetrably strong.
Cheered by sweet hope witli a celestial song, —
And though the victory make long delay,
Be found still constant — still in duty's way.
Head, heart, and hand, should be united now, —
The strong, the weak, to speed the Temperance plough.
Gold is not spared to dazzle and deceive,
Give ye of yours to strengthen and retrieve.

THE rPsOGRESS OF Ti:MPJ-::K.\NCt\

211

Men plaeotl on Ingh, lilco watch-towel's, ought to show
True light and guidance to the crowds l)olow ;
]3ut crowds, the sinews of the world, should feel
Qliat they, tliemselves, can help or mar tlieir weal — -
Can shun the pathways of disastrous fate
And rise superior, tho' of low estate.
But in high place, is low example, too !
Which tens of thousands may have cause to rue.

Love ye y ur neighbours, Ministers of Peace,
Who hold aloof and see men's woes increase ?
Siy is your faith evinced, your pity proved,
Your duty done, if ye pass by unmoved —
Some poor weak wretch who asks your aid to rise.
From dark abasement, to be good and wise ?
Shrink ye from contact with such men as these ?
Shrank your Great Master from earth's dire disease?
Unglove your white hand, seek the poor man's shed.
And raise him, temperate, from the living dead.
But go beyonJ, and point him to the skies.
And lure him kindly, till ye gain the prize.
Withhold no longer — ^join the Temperance cause,
And stand true Champion for its righteous laws ;
Think not of supererrogation here —
Your Christian duties call you to our sphere ;
Give name — example — varied talent — all —
And work, for blessings, if ye preach, like Paul !

iiic PHt!:ii'?o:; 3 poems.

TEMPERANCE AND PEACE.

As picrocth Day's l»vi,2;lit orb, tlio p]oom

Tiiat n!2;litly o'or t'ho earth provails,
E'en so shall Tomnoraneo Truth iUnme

That darkness which tlio soul assails;
That worse tlian Sty<];ian glooui, dispersed

TJy Christian Chanty's pure ray,
"TIio wondcrinr!; world siiall hail the burst

Of moral Freedom's glorious day .!

Oh I haste the briirht the happy time

When man shall war no more with man,
When all on earth in every clime

Shall sliare Salvation's i^racious plan ;
When hearts, Iloav'ns altars, now profaned,

Shall duly l^i^el their priceless worth,
"When Paradise shall he re2;ained,

/i.nd, o;aee more, anofcl;^ .walk on earth!

NOTES TO "TEML'ERANCE,"

(I.) A small prize, OiTorcd fc* llic best |tO('m on the Piibjcct of
Temponuice, resulted in the verses ciitUIcd " rniise of Wutor." Tin*
arii;;Ie was ])riiite(l in a piuuidilct t\nm, iind ratlier cxton'-ivcl y cir-
culated. The cxtiMC'ts jziven coiiinin ii'juut li:i!f llio i>oeMi an
publiolied. It was oiie of t!iose eilurts w'loso money reward was by
no means coramousui'uto whli tlio labor and talent required for iu
production.

(1.) Povor il yoa^^ n!]jo a p(^no;li!'al d'^votol to Temperance, nnil
nppropriately desi;j:uat id tiio " Oiive BraDcli/' was pulilis!ied in Hali-
fax. It was cdiicd, for some time, by JNIiss Sarah llcrhert ; — Jolm
Mc'Phersou occasionally contrii)uted to it* cohimus. Ver VwS entitled
" Tho Elfori," and oilier piecci in tins ijcclion, were writleii fur tUo
•' Oiivc Brunch."

(.3.) Tho virtuo of perseverance has been found of special con-
sequence in Tem])eran;'c ; i; i; a .irrcat requisite in all jrood causes.
The linc^ to w'lt -li tlits note huo reference, were among those written
for the '' U.ive li..;neii."

(4.) Moderate dvir.kino', as a Pi;pport of the liqr.or frafTic, and
as aironliun' tiMirotatiou to cxccsi'!, iiu.s frc(jucntly been u subject of
Temperance atlvocaiL's.

(3.) This, and othor pieces in the collection, and more especially
Fomo liner, not printed, nii-iht bo understood as jiaraphrascs on some
very cmpliatii' |);issm;4'cs of Scriptni-e. rticPlicrson ,vas a student of
JScrijjtiire, well inelin(Ml to bo iuiiuencod by its teaehin;;s on tbemed
whieh he adopted. If any snp])o-;e tl-at liis zeal was evinced by over-
warm cxpressior., they may Iind that tiie sacred writings gave good
preecdeut for moi'O eariie.-;t reinousiranoe.

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OCCASIONAL.

INCLUDINO riECES DESCRIPTIVE, DIDACTIC AND PERSONAU

The term " Occasional," as applied to literary efforts, is generally
understooil as Kii^nifyin'? those literary products, which, instead of
beinfj parts of series, or in accordance with some pre-arranged plan —
are rather the effects of sonic passing thought or suggestion.

The verses wliich follow have been so designated, because they did
not appear to come distinctly under any of the preceding sections,
although they may approach one or other of them at several points.

Many scenic allusions may recall the division entitled " Lovo of
Nature." Those relating to the household and the family circle,
mav remind of the ve>'se3 more immediatelv " Domestic and Social."
Others are fraught with incidents related to the "Personal." Tho
religious characteristic so prevails as in some places to suggest tho
" Devotional " classification : while moral and reformatorv features
will be found to link tho section with that of " Temperance."

Tims tho closing division of Mcl*horson's poems may be deemed,
as in some degree, harmonizing the other parts. The hope is that
they may convey both pleasure and proiit ; that the volume vlii bo
welcomed in many circles as conducive to tho utility which w'as
among tho poet's fondest ambitions, as well as to tho enjoyments
arising from innocent sources, to which his mind was so sensitive.

The blending of exterior comeliness or beauty with usefulness*
seems specially provided for in the works of the Creator : the stream
adorns while it fertilizes the smiling valley ; thr ^ ' go is delicately
elegant, as if grass and grain were intended as much for ornament as
sustainment; the clouds which waft refreshing vapours hither and
thither, pi-csent, in form and colour, objects of great attraction to tho
cultivated vision ; — Ho who crowneth the year with His goodness,
clothes the lily ot tlio field in textures which outvie the robes of
Solomon. Rational nature, surely, might learn lessons from this, so
that boneficcnce might become one of the daily attributes of intellect.

'J*'

^l■\

.'r-v

\ «--

OCCASIONAL.

CHEERFULNESS.

(I.)

The outward world is cheerful — the pure air
And its gay winged inhabitants rejoice, —
The flocks and herds that make the hills their choice

As they the wold's luxuriant herbage share ; —
The winds and waters have a low sweet voice,

And breathe the same soft murmurs everywhere.

All things seem grateful to the Sovereign care

That erst pronounced the new Creation — " Good! "
And bade the soul be happy, if it would,

In that sweet garden which He made so fair!

Light laughs upon the billows, wliich seem glad.
Making wild music round the good ship's way ;

O man, immortal, why art thou so sad.
Whilst all things else are innocently gay.

.1,

■1

The outward world is cheerful : Beauteous flowers
(That yield their sweetness to the murmuring bee,
Their perfume to the winds that fan the lea,

And woo the village maidens to their bowers,

To pass the golden noon in guileless glee) — ■
10*

'119

MC PIirUiSON 3 POEMS.

Burst into bloom beneath the genial showers !
Wliil-t — wlicro Acaiba's April day-orb pours,

T!iroagii pailhig clouds, lii.s iiinru than April beams

liy wood-nynjpli-nouks and naiad haunted .streams
Gay fluttering myriads sport away tlie hours.
Tbe outward world is chL-erful ; — Nature's brow

Is wreathed witii ra})!:ai-e as a face with smiles
When first chaste love lias sealed its saered vow,

And breathed its Eden o'er the heart's jxreen isles.

The outwnrd world is cr.eerful. Man, alono
Of all heaven's eresiures, wlllfally repines.
And, like a peevish i:Ci)ool-boy, Irets and whines,

And vents his heart-wrung anguish in his groan,
Because, though yonder genial sun still shines,

Ills Maker's will accords not with his own !

01) ! were his principles of action s-hown
In wise observances of Nature's laws,
And right ^ubniission to the great First Cause,

How would he thrill at Rapture's mystic tone !

did he yield to jmeh serene control,

What springs of grateful happiness would start,

From deeply pious impulses of soul,

And wells of gladness gushing in the heart !

Too huuililo for the festive halls of Pride-
Too irontle for the ieaiousies, so rife
Among the lucre-loving sons of strife—

^The Enchantress, Cheerfulness, loves to reside
Whcry, 6»<ii"g t^*} umguities of life,

BHUN THE PATHS OF F00LI8II PLKASURK.

219

}cams

urns

isles.

She may sit flown with Concor;!, side l\v sido ;
For slie, coy Nymph, stiil lovotii to confide

Her high endeavmants to tijo quiet cot

Where hone.st toil, contented witli his lot.
And temperate youth and vigorous age abide.
Yet is she limited to no abode,

Restricted to no rank or class of mind,
But ready to relieve from earking load.

And bless with smile benign, all human kind..

I \i

les,

SHUN THE PATHS OF FOOLISH PLEASURE.

Shun the paths of foolish Pleasure,

Which with vain jillureiiicuts shine-—
Shun the sordid, seek the treasure

Which wUl not with Earth decline.
Trust not Fortune's specious seeming,

But, while youth and hope are thine.
Time's eventful houi.^ reiloemijig,^

Seek the light and life a.vaiel

Then, though many ills assail t]io<\

Though thy fondy.-;i >lreains decay.
Though all earthly couifort fail thee,

God will be thy constant stay.
Heavenly hope shall sweetly ch<jer th<}e,

Peace and joy attend thy way,
Heavenly aid be always near the?,

And thy strength exoeod thy day I

2^0

HC r/IERSON S POEUI^.

CHANGES.

(2.)

Alas ! how fortune changes,

How hcaltli and hojx) decay !
How jwvorty estranges

The friends of life's yoting day
The goodly tree I cherished,

Exj)eetant of sweet fruit,
Has prematurely perished

With canker at the root.

We leave the'clear bright fountain-,.

The sweet flowers springing nigb.
And climb the ruo'ired moantain.

To reach a genial sky ;
.But when our feet, o'erweary,

Ivequire the promised land,
The, scene grows dark and dreary —

We gaze on desert sand.

Look upwards, Kufferlng mortals,.

Wlio sigh for living streams ;.
Heaven lights her glorious portals

With myriiid guiding beams.
Look upwards to the regions

Beyond expression fair,
And seek to join the legions

Who rest enraptured there

NATURE S LESSON

221

NATURE'S LESSOX.

Bright watchers o'er thh vale of tears-
Sun, moon, and myriiirl stars,

Ye move in your appointed spiieres
Unmoved by worldly jars !

Ye still, as at the firHt, obey
Your great Creator's voice,

Koll duly on your heavenly way,
And ceaselessly rejoice

Man, too, hath his allotted part —

High duties to fiilRI, —
To bind all goodness to his heart.

And shun each teiiiptiufr [\]/?
But when, assertive of his soul.

And mindful of his trust,
Will he despise the base control,

The bondage of the dust ?

Roll on, rejoicing in your light,

Ye wonders of the sky.
Prophetic visions glad n\v sight —

The dawn of heaven sceius nii?h !
Dark hate and dreadful war shall cease,

The fiercest foes be kind ;
And trusting love and gentle peace

Brood o'er the human mind.

MpPiIEKSON*t lK>BM(t

VISIONS.

Fair Maiden of the lustrous eye,

And pale, pure intellectual brow,-
Beloved of the days gone by,
Who re art thou now ?

■ ^']

Thy smile was like a livincj beam
Upon the desert of my breast ;
But thou hast gone — and I must dream
In wild unrest.

Unsunned by that celestial eye,

Uncheered by that persuasive tone,
Unblessed by that responsive sigh^
I feel alone.

When thou, my <>ontle love, wast near,
3Iy heart was iigiit, my spirit glad ;
But thou hast left tiiis darkened sphere.
And I am sad.

Yet, in my visioho of the night

I feel as if I could rij jiae ;
For I behold thy form of light.
And hear thy voice.

UfTOTTP TH^rOTIT?.

223

TInu fsocmost of the spirit-laml.

Anil sp.'iakest of that world above,
Whose bv.vurs are l)fi;j;!it, wlioso air is bland—
Whose life is luve.

Wfill — T will pass as best I may

The years th:it seem so drear and long,
And then, l.iy down the load of clay
And join thy son^.

i
'1

■'«

KIOIIT TIIOUuIITS.

I askel thj S.mi'I'-, SIeo;T.

(That is so like to death,
PulsL'lesj!. and j)as8i«»«de.«-s, and deep,

In all but mortal bieath.)

^Miat tlj:n[^s dost ihon lidi^ild
In earrh, or sea, (u- sky?

What radiant mysteries untold
Uiifure thy dreaming eye?

Sleep seomM to nn?wjr — " Much
Fro'.n wakin^r eves eoiicealt'd,

Of sue!) as t may tell, and such
As may not be revealed."

224

jicpherson's poems.

What seest thou, Sleep?

" A pure immortal shore
Where those who wake on earth to weep

Shall wake to weep no more.'*

What Jost thou yet behold ?

' ' A still more glorious dream—
A city having streets of gold

Beside a living stream."

Who dwells therein, O Sleep ?

•' The ransomed of the Lord,
Who, brought through tribulation's deep,

Enjoy the great reward.

With these a glorious band

Who were not doomed to die —

The bright ones of the spirit land —
The dwellers in the sky."

Again what seest thou ?

" The throne of the Great King,
Before whom men and angels bow

And strike their harps and sing."

What hearest thou, O Sleep ?

Songs of enraptured praise
Which high intelligences keep,

And sainted spirits raise.

THE ETENING SHADES OF LIFE.

225

The burthen of their song
Is — " Holy is the Lamb,

And might and majesty belong
Unto the great I AM ! "

" THE EVENING SHADES OF LIFE."

When day's last gleam of glory dies,

And Evening breathes her tranquil tone,
I love to stray from human eyes,

And pass sweet memory's hour alone.
Morn sjDeaks of prospect dear to youth,

And wears a countenance of cheer,
But Evening tells a tale of truth

That sad experience sighs to hear.

Our course began with hopeful trust

In kindred love and friendly aid ;
But, lo ! our idols dashed to dust,

Our altars, trampled and decayed !
While spectros of departed years

Flit round us with regretful sighs,
And move the wearied heart to tears

For lost delight and broken ties.

The wise, whose hearts had ceased to yearn,
Forewarned us of the world's deceit ;

But generous youth is loath to learn
That life's fair aspect hides a cheat.

220

lie PIIZRSON a rOEM3.

Yt't, w'lcn w) v!s? to r.nn'nirs s^'ilj,
.\\h\ u.^k tti '^\^i ni) |»!(>iiii.'CMl fk.c'ii,

]'3x|jL'r!eiu:L' lift^ the; ^ll'llill;^ vc.I,

Autl bii'^lK.'S t'ju irustin,^ vxtiiu'ss cjcs.

Untutored in tlrj w irM's cnl I \viy5!,

And hopoful in it.s iin.flf.rt'd ti»no,
The young and j )you.s liL-ait oWys

Too off, no ini|)ulsL' but its own.
It looks at will on cloudless sk'.cs,

That lovo would woc'p to see o'orcast,
And r. (Hilly dooms that smiling eyes,

A\ ill lend it suii^hlnc; to the last.

Tut ((ill I that cavtldy tlionght could rango

On sulijjcts free trim griet"\s a[i))al I)
Tinje flies, and hiin'jjs a mournful chaniro—

You;li fa ies and fetds ail! etion's thiall.
IIovv blest, then, he that timely, here

Looks fosw n-d to his heavenly re.-t,
;?jt'fore " the evening sliados" a;)[)ear,

And life forgoes its early zest.

Cbis vex'd pvobatlonavy state,

Whoso hours of rapture seem so brief,
s not the sport of penal fate —

Not all a pilgrimage of grief.
Miough oar Mi's Ion I votaries shall see

Their gold grow dim with tiiiu's alloy,
[iho truth that m ikes the captives free

Imparts au emiicssness of joy.

EErnLDixa t:is promissd lant).

227

Dicii :)Li):x:; t:i:^ i':i:)mis:::) land.

OI)'flicnt to iris vwv^y vnw —

His yiAL'v':; hi-li^ b^^liij. t—
'J'lio Proplict xtudil (111 Pisjali's brow

An.l viewed t^o Land oF Rest ;
To wiiioh through hn;y and Wi-ary years
Amivlst alt'ornato h<' - and fears,

Jehovair.s (Av -od ;

And wlileli, with ng streams

Was daiiy prescu. . ..^ci- dreams.

''■
J

The dlmo of many a mountain sccno

3Ia^n'.Ii:;ently jvraiid,
Thy ernn;3 of bright pironnial green,

Uy f.-igrant brec^.;s fannM,
The elimj denied to I.•^rae^^s fear.?
Till faith s'lOLihl have resigned her fears,

Was gloriously at hand —
And, far and near, enriched Ins sight
With one wide prospect of delight !

J>at sa.lno?s o'er his pp'r't foil,
Ai 1 te.us Wjre [».'n:ij to start;

For leelings, tliat at times rebel,
Surcharged W.^ h\i\\\ii\\ liearL :

IIj kn.'W tii.it ere thj !i u^t lu leJ

Cuuld reae'.j the land before hiiu spread,
llii spirit iilioald deparL :

"V^.

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228

IICFUEBSONS POEMS.

He saw it with his failing eyes,
But might not rest beneath its skies.

The thought that he should sit at last

Within its verdant bowers,
And, all his weary wanderings past,

Repose among its flowers —
The thought that still from day to day
Had nerved his heart throughout the way,

And oft renewed his powers, —
That thought, the nursed of years, had flown,
And left his heart a sombre tone.

But — turning to his Father — Lord !

The Patriarch-prophet bowed
In meek submission to the word,

That sometimes smites the proud.
He felt how frail was mortal dust.
Confessed his last sad trial just.

Shook oflT the darkening cloud—
And giving up his wayward will.
Adored Eternal Goodnes^ still.

The hope that had his soul sustained

Along the Desert's way.
The hope of better life, remained.

To cheer his latest day !
He knew that, though he might not sleep
Where Hebrew maids at eve would weep

And Gentile pilgrims pray.

80 BRIEF IS LIFB.

229

His spirit, ready for her flight,
Should dwell with Jacob's God in li2:ht.

own,

He might not join the songs of Praise,

The grateful and the deep,
That Israel's rescued sons would raise

On many a starlit steep —
But, he may hold sublimer Lyre
Aiding the blest celestial choir.

Who heavenly anthems sweep !
So, bursting from the ties of Time,
He sought the glorious spirit-clime.

SO BRIEF IS LIFE.

Death equals ! Yes, the rich, the poor.
Whom little vulgar aims divide.

Must all the same sad change endure
And darkly moulder side by side !

So brief is life — so insecure !
So vain a thing is human pride !

The rock of Tyre — the proud remains
That o'er Zenobia's city lie, —

The rubbish on a thousand plains

Where once a world sent up its cry,—

All prove that man, despite his pains.
Must loose his hold on earth, and die.

280

MC PHERSON S POEMS.

Tlio wrcfc!) w\n iitiaOs his wiM his god,
Til J sufFjiliig outcast whom hu spurns,

Alike, liuMcatii the vallry'.s clod
The liouiy sexton, Time, iimins : —

The ditteriuii: weahh (or \\hic!i we ijkd
And bow to eriuie, to dust letuins.

Confining inSnite desires

To this poor perishable scene,

"NVe miss what most the heart rer[uires— •
That peace unspeakably Fcrene,

"With which the Lord of Life inspires
The wise wlio on His mercy lean.

Here, Sin obscures and saddens all ;

Here towering minds to meanness stoop ;
Here private wrongs and outrage, gall

More deeply than misfortune's swoop ;
Here vile detraction' "ows fall —

The wicked thrive- ^ug righteous droop.

But when our baseless hopes are o'er —
When <leafh asserts liis dreadod claim

And, conscience, wakes to dream no more,
n<jw will the soul endure her thame !

How, all-regrtt fully deplore
The dai'k pcrvcr;sIou of her aim I

THB PniSONER OF THB DASTILE.

231

S'lifo IIo Vv'iirso woi\l (Vroct.s our w:jy
^Vill bu to sill our \viU'ler'n_:j;< just,

"NVhy s'anil \v;j itl'y all tlu day —
Kj;>;ar.llii-s of our jrl »rious truif-?

AVliy «l) \V2 WisliJiii'd wnr'.j djlay
U.i:il tjc "rrave djiiuiiJs our dust?

THE PRISONEU OF THE BASTILE.

Unbar not now my dungeon door-
Set not the lielples>« free ;

Yo cannot youth and hopu restore,
And \v!iat i: light to me?

y.y heart tVoiii every huaian tic
Long yoar.-< agi was wrenched :

Then nuiv the old and friendless dio
Whore life's best lights were quenched.

They led him forth ; — ho Telt the air-
Beheld the earth and sky —

But nature soem'd no longer fair
To his delightless ejo.

IIv3 wandered on, but saw no faco
At wlilch his bosom thrilled ;

lie sought his own — another ruco
The old possessions filled.

232

UCPHERSONS POEMS.

" Take — take me back !" the old man said ;

The world is dark and strange —
None live to shield my aged head,—

I cannot bear the change.
Let that bright orb the world illume

For earth's tyrannic lords,
But give me back the place of gloom

That with my fate accords.

My soul was torn from beings dear,
At manhood's busy stage,

What now, alas ! remains to cheer .
My dim and joyless age ?

I speak, yet hear no fond reply-
No kind consoling tone ;

I gaze — yet meet no kindred eye ;—
! give me back my own.

If I could weep, perchance this gloom

This frenzy might depart, —
But quenchless care seems now to doom

My outraged human heart.

Affliction's wild, yet sweet relief,
Has not been mine for years,

And worn by uncompanioned grief
These eyes have now no tears.

Then take me back ; — the dungeon's gloom

Hath so familiar grown
That light were but a stranger doom

Than life liy'd out alone.

DREAM.

23a

Farewell ! ye prove not all too cold

To mourn for such as I,
Farewell, ye leave the poor and old

Whose hour of rest is nigh.

DREAM.

"I had a dream that was not all a dream/'—BTRON.

" that for me some home like this would smile."— Campbell.

Methought I had a pleasant dream,

Of scenes, in which I loved to stray
And find the objects of my theme,

From sunny morn till close of day.
While hope, that sometimes comes to cheer

The poor man's path with cheerful gleam,
Half whispered — " If a friend were near

This dream would not be all a dream."

A cottage veiled by waving pines

That taste had left to please the eye— .
A home that held some sacred shrines,

Looked upwards to a smiling sky.
Farm-buildings, barn, and lattice near,

Screened from the north by circling trees ;
An orchard there— a garden here —

And gay flowers fragrant to the breeze.

284

iccraisiuBON*s feO^MS.

Green waving fields of grass and gra'n.

Rich pastures cropped by peaceful kinc—
And placid flocks that clothe the swain,

Bade frugal labor cease to pine.
*• that some home like this were mine " —

Burst from my full heart like a prayer—
What cheering San-beams then wouM shlno

Upon my dark cold niglit of care ! ' '

Then, whrn the fire of Genius flamed,

And tluillo.1 the proudly nonseinus soul,
The eagle, Thought, might sonr unblamed,

And spurn de[)rossion's dull control.
Then love, while circled by its own,

Would meet their g:izo with hnppicr eyes,
And breathe a more ec.st.-itic tone

And balm inhale fiom briuhtcr skies.

INVOCATION TO SLEEP.

Balmy power ! whoso silken w'ng
Jiulls the wearied frame to resf.

Coma, O come, and sweetly bring
Sjlace to my acliiag breast.

Tjtl anX Firtiin2 fjel tliy balm
Sofrly o'er their senses ste;:! ;

let Sorrow, know thv calm,
Want and 2coe, thy soothing feel.

I08T AT 8AI,

53n

Let me in thy silent bower

Taste of Lethe's fabled stream-
Feel thy sweet oblivious power,
Sleep, without a restless dream.

cs.

Or if dreams my couch attend,
Let them wear no sable frown ;

But the raptured spirit lend

Such as sleep with blessings crown.

Balmy sleep ! w'.nso sllkon win.:;

Lulls tho wearied frame to rest,
Coma, come, and swjutly bring

Solace to my aching breast.

LOST AT SE>.

(t)

"When thy daring bark departed

O'er the waste of waters blue,
And AfFviction's tribute started

For the gentle and the true,
"We expected soon to greet thee,

To thine own, thy native slioro,—
But on earth we may not meet thee.

For thy mortal race is o'er.

2:6

MCPHSRSOW S POEMS.

Oft, from vision'd sleep awaking,

Bade we yon dim taper burn ;
Oft, the sleepless couch forsaking,

Watched we for thy hoped return.
Long ere darkling doubt assailed us,

Friendship at thine absence wept ;
And, when life's last solace failed us,

Love his aimless vigils kept.

Yet, amidst our tribulation.

One sweet solace still remains.
In the light of that salvation

Which the wearied soul sustains.
Though we still must sadly mourn thee

As the lov'd and lost of Time,
Have not guardian angels borne thee

To their own immortal clime ?

Freed we trust art thou from sadness.

In a world exceeding fair ;
And we hope that, crowned with gladness,

We may breathe its balmy air ;
We would greatly joy to greet thee

E'en on this sepulchral shore.
But we hope that we shall meet thee.

Where the happy part no more !

THE SmPWBXCKEP.

237

THE SHIPWRECKED.

As Day's last parting light was shed

I sat beside the deep,
And thought upon the shipwrecked dead

That in its waters sleep ;
The brave, the fair, the young, the old—
The rich with all their shining gold.

O'er whom its billows sweep !
Beneath the dark insatiate wave
What thousands find a watery grave I

When burst the dark tempestuous storm

Amidst the lightning's glare —
When frowned Destruction's awful form,

What frantic fear was there !
When life's last hour drew near its close.
What loud tumultuous cries arose —

What shrieks of wild despair I
No rescue nigh— earth's visions o'er—
The seaman sank afar from shore 1

Ye wanderers of the dark blue wave,

When storms your path assail —
Where'er life's fragile bark is cast,
The soul is safe from adverse blast,

If moored *' within the veil ! "
gallant hearts ! much need have ye
To trust in Him who rules the Sea I

238

UCPnERSONS F0EM8.

MArwIXER'S SONG.

Tlio sua bus set, iho shides of cvo
Glitlo softly o'er the sea,

And bring to all a sweet reprlero,
A dream of love to mo.

For, freed from toil, I fix my gazo

Upon the first pale star
That wakes with soft religious rays,

Fond thoughts, of scenes afar

At this calm hour a lady mine,
Who dwells beside the sea,

Is constant at the vesper shrino
To pray to Heaven for me.

She, too, observant of her vow,

"The registered above,"
Beholds that glimmering planet now,

And names her absent love.

I almost think T see her face —
Her sweet yet chastened smile,

And o'er her lovely features trace
Her inmost thoughts the vrhile.

TOE RETI&ED 8AIL0B.

289

Sho TvaAGS tho blissful moments flecl—

Thu lu »ks of fi)iKl rt'^rot —
Tlie sig'is wu breatlietJ — tliu tears wo sliecl-

Our hopos when lust \\c aiut.

waft our gallant sliip, ye winds,

Tlio bouhding billow.s o'er,
Till it the destined haven finds,

And I my native shore.

THE RETIRED SAILOR.

When first I heard the thrilling talo

Of mighty oeean's reign,
I longed to hoist the adventurous sail

And cleave the liquid plain.
But would the dream to leave my home,

To try the changeful sea —
Oh ! would the restless wish to roam

Had never come to me.

Tossed by the spirit of the blast

Where warring waters ravo,
Upon the higli and giddy mast

Above the yawning grave, —
Rcmoto fi'om all the heart holds dear,

Sick, sick upon my cot.
With none to speak a word of cheer,—

This oft has been my lot.

240

HC PHERSON S POEMS.

Dread hunger, thirst, and polar cold, •

Let others brave for gain ;
Keep, merchant, keep your proffered gold,

I cease to tempt the main.
Beside ray own hearth's cheerful blaze,

Content, though small my store,
I pass my unambitious days

In peace unknown before.

TO THE MAllINER.

Hail Mariner ! whose feelings are as warm
And simple as in childhood — who has won
The name of " Ocean's simple-hearted son

Hail, thou, familiar with the Almighty's form.
Seen in the lightning's far-surrounding flash-
Heard in the thunder's overwhelming crash

And all the voices of the mid-sea storm.

Remember Him, Who lets the waters bear

Thy gallant bark, wherever thou wouldst roam,
Who holds the winds that waft the traveller home,

And makes His children His peculiar care.
0, then, remember Him, in storm or calm,
In Morn's glad hymn, in Evening's solemn psalm,

And in the life-breath of unceasing prayer.

THE mariner's RETXIRJ*.

241

Id,

MARINER'S RETURN.

I wandered far from my native land,

O'er many a stranger scene,
But I look once more on the rugged strand,

And the hill tops gaily green.
The surf that breaks on her seaward rocks,

Hath a welcome in its roar,
To a heart that, tired of the word's rude shocks,

Would mix in its wars no more.

5h—

I come — I come to the laughing streams

That will greet uie with sweet song —
To the dear old scenes of my school-boy dreams.

And the happy household throng.
I come from the bu«y world's alarms,

With a new and strengthening zest.
To household friends in whose fostering arms

My cares shall be lulled to rest.

'oam,
sr home,

n psalm,

I suffered much since I left them last ;

Fierce heat and polar cold ;
But the future joy may redeem the past,

And repay me a thousand-fold.
I have braved the storm on the wave-washed dcck-

I have run on a dread lee-shore —
Yet escaped with life from tlie shattered wreck,

To return to my own once more.
11*

242

MC PHKRSON S POKMS.

I wandered far with the hope of wealth

That was destined to depart,
But I thank Thee, Lord, that I still have health,

And the boon of a grateful heart.
My " lov'd ones ' ' lung to be once more blest

With the sight of my storm-beat face ;
My roof tree waits for a weary guest,

I haste to tlie dear old place !

I wandered for, but my native vale

Shall hear my soul rejoice,
And the cheek of the watcher growing pale.

Be bright at my well-known voice.
I come from the angry tempest's roar,

From the deep sea's troubled foam.
To the quiet scenes of my native shore,

And the dear delights of home.

LINES FOR THE LADIES.— No. L

TO ACCOMPANY THE PIANO OR THE SPINNING-WHEEL.

(5.)

Girls ! how highly pleased we feel

With humble admiration,
When blushes on your cheeks reveal

Fair Hebe's bright carnation.
But, ah ! we cannot brook to see

A lass her form defacing, —
'■ Wc cannot bear that you should be

J^elf-s.'ierificed to ** lacing !"

HEEL.

LINES TO TilKI LADIES.

Consumption, fragile beauty's foe,

Among the sex so frequent,
May be, as learned Doctors show,

On "modern lacing" sequent.
And then by fragile shoes and hose

Which fashion-traders take, you
May both your bloom and eoinlbrt lose —

May health indeed forsake you.

If ye were fashioned out of taste

We might excuse the passion
For living delicately laced

And dying ** in the fashion.''^
But, trust me, Nature, when she made

Dear woman's form of beauty,
Knew how the shape should be arrayed.

But fashion swerves fioiii duty,

We read that men, in I'unnor days,

Armed *' cap a pie," when banded,
But women had no name fur stays.

Their waists at will expanded.
And that the dames, in times of old

Of mighty men, were mothers.
Is proved by Greece and Home, — and told,

By Homer and some others.

243

I had a sweetheart once — a maid
Whose form was fairly moulded,

Whose eye beneath its silken shade
A lofty soul unfolded.

244

MC PIIERSOK 3 FOEJOS.^

I hopeil — in truth, a Happy lot.

The future fomlly tracing ;
But, wlioii about to sIku'C my cot,.

Sl>c Ml a proy to lacing 1

I moumei! her loes in silent woo

Like any otlier lover,
Until a lass who lacked a beau

I happened to discover.
Hw cheek was like ' the red, red rose '-

Her waist a pi'oper feature ;
Tlicre was no hectic near her nose—

She was a prudent creatui'O.

E'en now (but lately made a bride)

In wetlded beauty blooming,
She sits her clean-.swe{>t h<?arth beside,

j\ly hunil'ilo home illuming.
I hoixj with her to see goo<i days,

Because, unlike the other,
She does not patronise th(5 stays.

Her gentle heart to smother.

IJNES FOR THE LADIES.— No. IL

There goes an honest »nan to Jail I

His wife has debts contracted,
Though she might knov/ his means would fail

To pay tliera wh»'U exacted.

uld fall

ITNES FOR TUE LADIES.

Poor thing! had she not sense to know

The course she was pursuing,
Might bring herself deserved woe,

And end in his undoing ?

Her pride — or mayhap want of thought,

Has sported sundry dresses,
Which to her huui))le !iearth have brought

Distraint and sore distresses.
O Woman ! must my pen record

A truth so melancholy
As this — that man — Oieation's lord —

Has cause to weep thy folly ?

From man's mistakes, from worldly strife.
We have enough of sorrow, —

From woman, oft a hope of lit^.
More care we sometiujes borrow !

Ye wives — be good, bo prudent wives-
Guard well your husband's earnings ;

Yourselves will lead far happier lives
If pride forego its yearfiings.

Ye girls — read wisdom's sage ** Advice "-

Rather than dreamy novels ;
A useful book of trifling price

May keep some out of hovels.
Be prudent — act a careful part.

Shun pride that so disgraces,
And tears — less frequently — will start

To spoil your pretty faces-

246

MCPIIEBSONS POEMS.

Instead of many precious hours

In slothful dreamings wasting,
Improve the mind's immortal powers,

The sweets of knowledge tasting.
Instead of, dull to healthful shame,

Some sUmdor-themo retailing —
Be tender of another's fama;

You ton, may have a failing.

Shun Fashion's vain unthinking crowd-

And life with virtue filling,
Not even of houswifery be proud ;

Save wisely many a shilling !
Pardon me, and forget not this,

That, what we all are craving.
The sunshine of Domestic Bliss,

Has much to do with saving I

SEPERATION.

As one who roam's the wild at night
Yet hails no friendly star,

So reft am I of calm delight
When forced from thee afar.

I love not thus my bark to steer
Across the ocean's foam,

Unless, with every hour, I near
My own delightful home.

BENEVOLENCE.

247

Vie now can converse but in thousjlit,
But sweet is Fancy's power ;

And Hope, from kindred feeling caught,
Foretells a brifirhter hour.

VANISHED NOT LOST.

Day, in starless gloom expiring,

Winds may wail and dew-drops weep ;

Yet the shades of night retiring,
Morn will mantle tower and steep.

But the loved whom Sickness blighted —
Whom our memory still deplores,

While we wander undelighted —
Neither Spring nor Morn restores.

Many a glad smile hath been banished,
Many a cherished hope been crossed ;

But the spirits who have vanished,
Though departed — are not lost.

We who loved tliem long may mourn them.

Yet we trust an angel band
O'er the shadowy vale hath borne them

To their own all-glorious land.

248

Mcpherson's poim3.

;

BENEVOLENCE.

" Charge them that are rich in this world tliat they do good, and
be glad to give."

ye who bask beneath the constant beams
Of Fortune's golden sun — whose lot is cast

Among earth's greenest spots, by pleasant streams—
Whose days in peace and affluence are pass'd,—

Consider that the bounteous hand of heaven
Your ample stores for righteous ends hath given.

Lo ! distant lands, lands sunk in moral night,
Where dreadful scenes the deathless soul degrade,

Are loudly calling for the lamp of light !
send the blessing — be the call obeyed.

Ye are the stewards of your Master's treasure,
And He demands the willing, flowing measure.

Go feed the hungry — clothe the shivering, go ;

The widow and the orphan claim your care ;
The house of mourning visit, and bestow

The balm of joy on those who languish there.
Thus shall your peace flow onward like a river,

Your soul be blessed. He loves the cheerful giver.

THE YELLOW LEAF.

When life, which Truth calls, brief,

And likens to a day.
Is in ** the sere and yellow leaf"

Of natural decay, —

DAILY MERCIES.

249

good, and

"We love to lift the pall

Of by-gone hopes and fears, —
To pause, look youthwards, and recall

Our *' beautiful past years."

t
ams—

iven.

grade,

Fond Memory waves her "wand —

And distant scenes draw near ;
And first fond hopes, a shadowy band,

And buried joys appear.
She gives the calm sweet face —

The kind consoling tone —
The thrilling touch, the true embrace,

That linked us to our own.

ire.

il giver.

But meteor lights that shino

Upon our earthly ways —
The forms that bow at Pleasure's shrine.

Shrink from our "feeble days."
While spectres of the past

That tell of broken ties,
Flit by on the autumnal blast,

And utter mournful sighs.

Sometimes in her loflucnt dream

Of visionary truth,
The founts ot human feeling seena

Reanimate with youth.
But, ah ! we wake to find

Earth's life without its zest,
And bow to weariness of mind,

x\nd think of better rest.

250

uc fherson's poems.

DAILY MERCIES.

Throughout the earth, the sea, the air-
Around — beneath — above —

Life, light, and all bright things declare
That nature's source is love.

Day, night, successive months, bestow
Unasked, unpurchased good,

But He " from Whom all blessings flow "
Is oft misunderstood.

With so much lent us to enjoy,

We seek for ills, unsent ;
And thus, with wilfulness, destroy

The source of wise content.
Weighed we our merits with our lot^

Sweet patience would be given,
To gild earth's darker, drearier spot.

With happy beams from heaven.

Forgive, Lord ! the darkling thought,

Direct the wayward will ;
The soul, which Thou Thyself hast taught,

Regard in mercy still.
We would not wander from Thy fold.

Nor pious trust resign,
But Oh ! our drooping hearts uphold ;

Inspire with life divine I

NOTES TO "OCCASIONAL.

»>

It,

(1.) The lines here pjiven, arc but extracts from a comparatively
long poem, composed of a scries of sonnet-Iiko verses. Part of the
remaining passages were nearly illegible, and to others objections
might appear, which would require correction by the author. In
this, and other of his poems, McPherson evinced very strong feelings
on the subject of war; he saw great present evils vividly, and thought
he might speak out plainly, as became his idea of a true bard.

(2.) The writer's own experience evidently tinges these and
Evening Shades of Life, and otiier verses of this section, as it did so
prevailingly, tlic " Personal " poems.

(3.) The strain here is more imaginative and ambitious than
usual, in McPherson's poetry. Its management tends to prove, that
to the addidional training and experience which ho so much desired,
he might, if spared, have aimed above the sweet lyrical department
to which he had chiefly devoted his attention.

(4.) This, and pieces which immediately follow, remind of the
Author's experience in sea affairs : — they are indicative of a class of
subjects apt to be familiar to a Nova Scotian, who finds waters of
Ocean, or Bay, or Gulf, in comparative proximity to every acre of
the Province.

(5.) The lively, and somewhat sarcastic and playful style, indulg-
ed in these and next succeeding verses, appear in strong contrast
with the laments which had become so frequent in consequence of
privation and disappointment. McPherson has more than once
intimated, that his literary powers should not be judged exclusively
by -what he had accomplished, but rather by what might have been
eaected under happier circumstances.

GENERAL NOTE.

The Bmall volume now presented, will be found peculiarly indica*
tivc of the author's experience and chnracrter.

Prominent among its recommendations are, very fluent verse, good
moral tendencies, and hcart-jxpresniun which appeals to the hearts of
readers.

Several imperfections, typographical and other, j.itiy, no doubt, be
discernable in the book. Some of these may be attribt/iable to the
Btato of parts of the copy, which required revision by the author, —
and some to the hurry with which the press-work was prepared for
y and performed. Long delayed, from several causes, when taken up,

the economizing of time became of consequence. Much of the edit-
ing was attended to at hours beyond the usual time of retiring to rest.

The volume, including the memoir, contains 300 pages, as inti-
mated in the Prospectus. Some advantages might have been obtalaed
by having the mechanical part of the work performed out of the
Province; but home-manufacture was thought especially aT)j^,ropriatt
in the publication of a volume, written by one whi» hoped to be
remembered as, " The Bard of Acadia."

A few grammatical inaccuracies may appear, and may be accounted
for by circumstances ah'cady mentioned. In one place, for instance,
the word " forgot" is used instead of forgotten ; — for this, excuse
might be given, in reference to requirements of metre, and in refer-
ence to respectable precedent al.«o.

Among several unpublished manuscripts is an address to England,
including advocacy of more attention to Public Education, reproof of
War principles and practices, and commendation of the Christian
amenities and Charities ot Life. McPhcrson wx^M about as strongly
in reference to War, as he did concerning Intemperance. Lines
entitled "Pastime, ' were referred to in the Memoir, as illustrating a
simple incident in the writer's history ; only a part of the copy of
> this piece was found in preparing for the Press, so that it docs not
appear as intended.

A blank for date occurs in, memoir, under title of Localities,— the
settlement alluded to took place, it appears, about 1812, or 1813.

In selecting for publication, several of the poems were somewhat
abbreviated : thus, less finished paessages were omitted, and space was
gained, for other verses, within the prescribed limits of the volume.

By dates attached to some of the manuscripts, most of the poems
given, appear to have been written within a period from the year
1844, inclusive.

Some of the verses styled " Occasional " would have been other'
wise classed, if they came under more ii'no!' \ » ,>'.

The "Harp of Acadia" is now re^^^L tally commended to that
patronage, which was a cherished hope by the Author during the
eomposition of its vQjps^

Pec. 19, 1862.

1 14 5J^ 3c_^

J. S. T.

suliarly indica-
nt verso, good
to the hearts of

, no doubt, be
bi/tabie to tho
the author,—
s prepared for
'hen taken up,
;h of the edit-
etiring to rest.
pages, as inli'
been obtained
ed out of the
y aT>j^»ropriat(;
hort' '' to be

bo accounted

for instance,

•r this, excuse

, and in refer*

s to England,
)n, reproof of
tho Christian
ut as strongly
*ance. Lines
illustrating a
' the copy of
at it docs not

realities, — the
or 1813.
5ro somewhat
nd space was
lie volume.
o{ the poems
rom the year

e bef-n other-

Dded to that
r during the

J. S. T.