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W : BONNSLLBY AND LAWBOR, P11INTXR8 AND SMOHATBKI, UHC ITSBK. 1868. ^'^ fSs^^tMs'sBc, .? \ J ^! V- ■ <1 &' I,- > } PREFACE In bringing before the public the following poems, I do not entertain the ambitious thought of giving them any- thing great, on a poetical feast, knowing well that I am incapable of it. My only apology is, that they were written principally between the age of seventeen an' twenty-three, by one possessed of a very limited education, whilst engaged at ,the plough, and other daily avocations, to gratify desire, pleasure and imagination ; knowing full well there are many imperfections and grammatical errors, which I do not wish to correct, in order that it may represent the unpolished style of a countryman, of which the author is, perhaps, a fair specimen. Having had the privilege of perusing the works of the great scotch poet, Robert Burns, I have imitated in many instances his style, and not a few ideas, for which I have endeavoured to give him credit ; and my only desire is, if what I have written never does any good, it may never do any harm. The Author. 1791^0 y a THE BEAST. It wis a common saying throughout the Village of Mount Hope, (or City, as some call it,) that " when a man was drunk the Beast was let loose." There is a place on Gladford's soil Which bears the name of Mount Hope City, Where once there was an awful broil Amongst its row iies,fold and nitty, Which spread abroad, from old to young, And caught the wonders of the witty ; Nor did it end like an old song, — For if it had 'twould been a pity, It would have ended all the fun And left the city doubly lone. But for to tell about '^the spree It seems * J.1 parlies don't agree. And what the noise wr.B all about 'Twas hard indeed try make'it out ; For one amidst the noise and clatter, Could hardly tell what was the matter ; It seems, as by the^story^ran, There was a Beast — some call'd it man, While others would dispute" it, CANADIAN AND For it was of a lower station, And wore such marks of degrcdation, So therefore they'd confute it, — And such a noise there was about it, An awful fuss and clatter, Some thought old nick from hell was routed, And that's what was the matter. But of this beast I ne'r could learn Exact about his grace or mien, Or whether, showing in his turn. He waved the orange, blue or green ; Or like a priest, clad to the feet With cloak, he hid his sins complete With modest air and features pale ; Or like a dragon, with a tail Whose end had double fangs upon, Like as a whaler's long harpoon. Whether he was tall or hunky, Or small, as a mischievous monkey ; Whether with hands and legs and feet He walked upright upon the street, With arms and limbs and every feature He wore the likeness of a creature ; But all agree'd he had the power To come and go at any hour. In any shape, in any mood. And on the city's rights intrude ; To bring man level with a frog. And turn a dandy to a hog. Ah hapless lot ! it grieves me great, AMERICAN P0EM8. To think that man of high estate, Created for the noblest sphere, With talents great and wisdom clear ; Man, choicest of the gifts of Eden ; Man, only man, an heir of Heaven, Should leave the halls of majesty To seek the vaults of misery, And end his days there, swift and sure, Which curses all that's bright and pure ; But this vile Beast, as by one's story, Was sometimes clad in robes of glory, With youthful bloom upon his cheeV, A blooming nose, both large and neat ; And sometimes in his tresses grey He pounced upon his destined prey ; And sometimes did he rave and hollow, And tear the ground and howl and bellow, At other times, with haggard face,* He came along, as from a chase, With bruised limbs, worn to the gristle, With wheasing breath and squeaking whistle, As if been trying with his skill The rugged side of Bunkers hill, And lost within its iron hale A portion of a limb or tail ; And then again he came along With an innumerable throng Of half starved hags of every shade, And burglars of every grade, Old, worn out topers, hapless creatures, 8 CANADIAN AND With scarce a mark of humaa features, Whose caps and coats, and vests and breeches Had twenty holes, for thirty stitches ; And where he and his crow had been The traces of their path are seen ; The empty house, the cold, cold hearth, (All gone the sound of joy and mirth,) And fast decaying to the earth. Whose bosom wears the marks of dearth ; The garden, with its roses dead. The thistle growing in its stead — The brier in the corner side, While the broad burdock seems its pride ; The churchyard on tlie rugged hill Has long been erouded to its fill, And all along the new dug clay Shows where the lowly tenants lay ; And written on the head-stone tiers Show deaths all under thirty years ; And on the black unrusty bier Are stains of many a widow's tear — Whilst clinging to the sides are stains, The prints of little children's hands, Who, from their wretched orphan home, Had born their mother to the tomb. And then, returning to their home, Layed down upon the cold hearth-stone And breathed their little lives away ; Then listening, o'er the churchyard drear, A sound comes breaking; on the ear — AMERICAN POEMS. Vibrating from the covered grave It echoes in a wild sad ruve, And rising on the breeze of morn They curse the day that they were born, And these, co-mingling with wail Of the night howlet's dismal tale, Joined by the wolf's unearthly cry, And the foul serpent's hiss and sigh ; And down within the cofl&ns, deep, The worms their midnight revels keep — To feast and riot day by day, And gloat on their untimely prey. How dark within the still left home Araits few tenants sad and lone ; Their only work, their only care, Or love, is but to love despair. With trembling limbs, and anguished eyes. They nurse their ceaseless miseries ; The helpless widow's wreaking wail — The starving orphan's piteous tale — The cries from keen remorse's smart — Tke last sighs of a broken heart — These, all uniting in one moan, Arose to heaven's eternal throne. But to my tale : sometimes he fled, And left the city as if dead, For then we heard no more about him Till some old toper hither brought him With all his smutty train ; Till one and all, the truth to tell, i I '! :|i^ I ' -I I If 10 CANADIAN AND All Tvished him down in Saten's cell, Strong fastened with a chain. But once upon a windy day, The city boobies called it May, While grannies called it June, The Beast got somehow from his cage, And tore about in such a rage, Enough to fright the moon — And in his frisky, frclick round He turned the city upside down, With foaming bellies steaming ; And such was the unearthly broil, 'Twas thought the deil was in them all, Or some infernal demon ; For when the Beast and man make friends- As long as there is jug or barrel — With bellies fill, their graces blend ; But when they're empty, friendships end, Ard then they 're sure to quarrel ; For in a joke good neighbor Mack Would strike his crony on the back, Or pull him by the breeches, Till loops and buttons both gave way. Which showed his shirt in home-spun greyj With countless holes and stitches ; And loafer Bob, turned hog complete. Rolled in a mudhole by the street, And daubed him to the skin, When simple Bill went to his help — Who scarce riew how to help himself — AMERICAN POEMS. And pushed him farther in ; And Murphy wallowed in the muck, Just like a gander or a duck, Nor did he blush or shame one feature, But felt himself a happy creature ; And thus it was, from day to day, . They kicked up their infernal fray, All by the Beast's direction ; So when the steam at length flew fast With all its wild confusion, They squared accounts up for the past And come to this conclusion : — That, by his grace and haggard face, And actions wild and frisky, It could not be none less than he, The monstrous Beast — Whiskey ! 11 A CURIOUS TALE ; OR THE DRUNKARD'S SOLILOQUY. 'Twas in the silent hours of even — Night's sable car had swiftly driven Across the spangled vaults of heaven — And twinkling star, With here and there, in splendor graven, A planet far. 12 CANADIAN AND The cricket chirp was loud and shrill, Among the clover on the hill, That brake the while the midnight still, Which reigned around, And mingled with the rippling rill, • Melodious sound. Dark-mantled hung the shady wood, In its sober pensive mood ; The lonely cave of solitude, For minds distressed, Where hours may on the soul intrude An i soothino' rest. The moments mild began to clear My willing heart, and please my ear, When soon a diiFerent sound more queer, Of loud harangue. Burst from the roadside, long and drear-— From someliiing strange. Then quick I turned a different pace, To find a new unknown chase, I spied a man with haggard face And drooping head, And as he sighed his doleful case, 'Twas thus he said : " These twelve months now have come and gone, The wing of time has wafted on. And summer's breathed upon the lawn, AMERICAN POEMS. 13 "With cheering face, While I am here a silly clown. Stuck in this place. And now has come an evil day, And night is dark, without a ray, Nor know I if 'tis June or May, Or mud from water — One thing I guess, I've lost my way, That's what's the matter. It surely is a doleful case That's brought me thus to such disgrace, Yet must not with my blooming race Contend or quarrel ; For, like good neighbors of one place, Wo 've sucked the barrel. There 's scarce a crony, witty-wight — . Now pocket bare and wallet light — That has not with me on a night Been blythe and frisky. And sat and supped till all got tight On steaming whiskey. And many a time we've been together, On murky nights and stormy weather, Consuming time and wearing leather — All gay and tight ; And yet my neck's escaped the tether — Is an awful fright. B I f 14 CANADIAN AND 'Tis well indeed to have a-friend, And one that timely aid can lend— With cash at hand, and that to spend In time of need — Till want has stripped him end to end, And makes him bleed. A man may boast of his connexion, No matter what is his complexion, — But whiskey and I are in affection With one another — As one may tell, by ke6n inspection — Like friend and brother. We long have liv'd in friendship sweet, And oft again we hope to meet, At some " grog shop" beside the street, To joke and sing — Where all the topers love to greet, While tinae takes wing. No man e'er saw two greater pets, When by my side he snugly sits, Though often he gets the frets And snubs me, And very oft, like now, he gets The better of me. Some rebels call me drunken Bill, Fast driving down destruction's hill. Where lubbers bathe in whiskey swill. AMERICAN POEMS. Like some great beast ; While others count me but a still 01* hops and yeast. I once was young, but now I'm old ; I once had hope as bright as gold ; My features were as beauty's mould, Nor were they wrinkled ; But now o'er every care-worn fold Grey hairs are sprinkled. Yet still I will not grieve or care, Their is honor e'en in grey hair, For many men with heads all bare Are much respected ; And while a man can stagger fair He's not dejected. See, on each elbow here's a patch, And on each knee there's two to match, Like Murray's straw-stack, thatch on thatch The body round ; A splendid place for fleas to hatch And breed profound. I have a boot — once had a pair, That on my feet looked pretty fair-~ But now behold it grin and stare Into my face ; An awful sight, I do declare, In this sad place. 15 ' 1 s 16 CANADIAN AND But as it is~'tis dead of night, And once again I'm pretty tight — As some will have it, " unco-right," — And gay, and happy ; While cares and sorrow take their flight And leave me " sappy.'' Poor silly swain — yet giddy fellow — Rough and ragged, soft and mellow j Once a dandy, now a &care-croTv Beside the gully, Where all the world may laugh and bellow At my folly. But here's no place to hum and dole-on. While time is dr: 7ing, I must roll-on. And see which side has got the hole-on, Among my tatters ; For while aiy boot has got a sole-on I'll mend up matters. 'Twas on the last of last December, Or there about, if I remember, The leaves were stripp'd from off the timber, Both short and tall ; Ancl * * * was running for a Member For what do you call ? The howling wind was driving fast, Cold, piercing, from the darkning east — And in the barn, not man or beast. AMERICAN POEMS. 17 Dear'st poke hi^ nose-out, For fear of having it stiffened cast, Plump a^ a " grozet." Yet, no way scared, I took the route And faced the storm with stomach stout, Full well resolved to see it out, • And fairly told ; For one to give his man a vote Must have it poll'd. At length I halted at the station, And met a welcome nultation From men of every rank and nation. And tribe, and feather — A homely mix of degredation Huddled together. People of every grade were there — Rich and liberal, black and fair, From him that goes with bald-head bare. Or wigs, along ; A great variety to me most rare As has been sung. The nominees were gaily greet 'ng Each good supporter with a treating, And every heart was warmly beating For one or all ; Till with the bar some heads were meeting With thump and fail. I I i 18 CANADIAN AND . Old * * 'i* was there, sherry plenty, For all the delicate and dainty, And barlcy-swill >Tas no-way scanty In glass decanter ; Till sup for sup we all got canty — Began to banter. Some were for one, some for another, Some lik'd this one, some lik'd tother, When * * ^ said *' he'd a great deal rather Send his buck sheep Than 'that old crazy silly blather — Always asleep." Quite sick and tired of all their clatter, Like some old grannies, chit for chatter, I buttoned to each patch and tatter And spoke aloud.; And soon began with solid matter Before the croud : Quoth I, for tory or for grit, I do not reverence them a bit ; Give me a man with ready wit, A ready speaker. For all the snobs that ever writ. Or office-seeker. There 's no use putting on the spleen By crying loyalty to the Queen, Or liberals, just for a screen AMERI'^AN POEMa. 1f^ To gain a seat ; You wave the blue, and hide the green Down to the feet. I must inform you of a feat, That happened in * * * street. Where loyal Tories cut complete Their valliant deeds, And drove the Governor from his seat With rotten eggs. You may stick out your oblong faces, With three-mile words and six-mile graces, And think, sometimes, to take your places With Sirs and Squires, Where gowns and cloaks hid your disgraces, Like priests and friars. In spite of all your fops and clowns, in spite of all your sutty towns, In spite of all your men of pounds, I'll have my will. If I'm to >ace the deadly rounds Of Bunkers hill. Ah ! luckless speech — it soon was ended ; Nor had T time to change or mend it. When in a wink my eyes were blinded By fists before me ; Then down among the stools descended, With ruffians o*er me. ir^ CANADIAN AND Then up I got in such a hurry — I ne*er was in so great u flury — I was quite sure 'twas ranting Murray, That poked my eye ; Yet on his part he looked quite sorry — But did not ^ry. Quoth I, good friend it is no joke ' To give a fellow such a poke ; I have a mind to try your oak. Or try your skin : And faith I'll make your eye-brows smoke, If I begin. I ne'er wac yet disposed to fight. • Or mix in such an awful sight, Yet when a man stands in the right, And is provoked, I feel like laying, with all my might, Your bones to soak. My fiery speech soon made them stare— I thought I'd done.it pretty fair — Till Murray, with a demon's air. And grinning teeth, 'Cried out " youi: life hangs by a hair— I'll stop your breath." " We'll have no more your saucy Up, Or else you'l get another clip ;" ^It put me in an awful nip AMERICAN POEMS. 21 To save my hide ; So soon I gave them all the slip, And step'd aside. Then homeward bound I turned my feet, With thoughts that were not very sweet, From top to toe set out complete With politics, In awful, dread, my wife to meet In such a fix. I travelled on, both halt and maim, 3Iy eye was shut, my leg was lame — Like one that from destruction came. With loads of sin. Depressed with woe, and coward's shame — But warm within. The night was cold — it nip'd my toes — The biting blast stuck to my nose. Scarce sheltered by my tattered clothes That paved the street ; While all the dogs sang out in prose, Their friend to meet. The neighbors said " there's drunken Bill — I guess he's emptied Murray's still. Or else he's been to Bunker's hill, And got a flailing J " But I ne'er listened to them tell Their unjust railing. '/ 22 CANADIAN AND • ^^k ^p ^^ rfC #fC J|C But soon the cricket's chirp was still — The sun came creeping o'er the hill, And sparkled en the rippling rill, And o'er the mead. So then I heard no more of Bill, Or what ho said. EPISTLE TO L. R. D£/.a L. R. may I still pretend In deeming you a sincere friend ; 'Pray, to me, let 5 yur love extend, And hear ray ditty : Though if I cannot claim this end It is a pity. 'Tis long since I last saw your face, - And give your hand a warm embrace, And time kas walk'd many a pace Since wo last parted ; Yet in thy name I ever trace A friend true hearted. I long have wish'd, and wish'd in vain, To share with you our joy again ; Though change and time, have somewhat waned, And dim'd their burning, AMERICAN POEMS. Yet Still, despite tho wind and rain, May be retarniog. [d these bright days, when folks so witty Can please themselves by their own ditty, I think it, Sir, an awful pity That I so long Should crawl about, till I grow nitty, Without a sonrr. My muse, that once was bright and boW, By change is growing cross and old; Or, by misfortune, sorely cold, Yet that's no matter, When in a turn she does unfold, I mumble at her. For one like me, who lives by song— And spends his years its flowers among— Will sigh, when joy has left them long, And sorrows try them ; Yet still I live through every wrong. And lone defy them. Give me my old long rusty pen, And let me try its steel again. With witty turns to guide it then, On paper white. The crazy capering shifty wren Sure then would write. '>', v I ' i I i^f I 24 CANADIAN AND For all the skill of ancient Greece ! Whose matchless wisdom rests in peace — Just let me but one spark release " Of nature's fire," My pen would then undying cease, Or e'en expire. My muses found me a mere child — A rough bush-whacker^in the wild ; By fortunes vain, and hopes beguiled, ^t^orfe-et-aion^ o> Till brighter days upon me smil'd, T wreath'd a song. And now that I can sure aspire 'To something more, and something higher- A long epistle or satire, As chance may term it — I work away, through mud and mire, And try to learn it. Our town is in a roar and clatter. One scarcely knows what is the matter, But some imagine they 're grown fatter — By telling lies ; Though that will never end the patter — 'Tis all disguise. "Say, we'll set down and sec it out, And let the rowdies blow and spout, • One hardly knows what he's about, 1 AMERICAN POIMB. These jarring times; 'Tis by good luck one saves his snout, These warring times. While envious parties squabling hale, And on their fellow neighbors rail, To almost curse their bread and kale For diflFerent thinking ; We'll, in old Freedom's bark, set sail, As quiftk ns winking. 25 It is a ship that long has brav'd The storms of years, while tyrants rav'd To see the vessels man'd and sav'd From out their hand ; And still it has been sought and crav'd From every land. But certain folks I know are thinking To wreak their vengeance on me, Lincoln,* Because I still keep freedom drinking, And slavery spew ; But faith, I'd give them ail a clinking. If that would do. They blame me if I e'er aspire To something great, or something higher j Or if I should a name admire. They nick it on me. Good faith, they only hug a briar. When they disown me. I* A nick-name given me for my Republican principles. CANADIAN AND But may-be Abe, for all their game, Will yet some brighter fortune claim, And to the heights of honor climb — High as the moon ; And bathe his bones in endless fame — The world aboon. Give me but chance to act by will, And power each selfish end to kill — Then if I climb the pauper's hill — Forgot by each, — I vet mav hold this freedom still —^ \\ I The power of speech. For it, I'd give a hearty toast — For it, I always hope to boast — I'd rather let my goose quill roast In a hot jam, And live upon my neighbor's roost. Than loose the gem. America t — thy green clad plain, That long has braved the wind and rain^ Thy love runs wildly through each vein— A joy to impart — And clasping hands with thee, T gain A bounding heart. « Be this my joy, while I am free, To sing alone for liborty, Or for the old protecting tree AMERICAN POEMS. The pilgrims sought — A home from despot's tyranny, By their blood bought. And may it ever be my aim To have in some degree, a name In bearing on that flag to fame — Stripes, white and red ; The eagle still to roar amain — The tyrant's dread. 27 "YesT^at Columbia, now in war, — Thy flag, though deck'd with many a scar,- Time yet will see thy matchless car Untarnished roll, — With freedom bright in every star, Clear to the pole. « Then shall its folds in honor wave, With triumph, o'er each traitor's grave, And shield the firesides of the brave, From shore to shore ; Nor tyrant, despot, serf or slave Shall it float o'er. But certain folks, I know full well, Who hate the Yankees worse than h — 1, Would gladly hear them howl and yell In '^atan's pit ; I do not like to hear them tell Their ki i ' '.1 1 1 ' 1 i 1 '■ t CANADIAN AND Though first and foremost I should tell Of what I heard that pleased ne well ; *Twas when they would their love tales tell, And happy courting ; It made my frenzied bosom swell To hear them sporting. They were true critics, not in name, For when one would his merits claim, The other would his acts disdain, And laugh right out ; Saying, who fooled you down yonder lane, And ^' cut you out." • It made mc think of by-gone sport, When I did with a maiden court^ Though it soon ended sweet and short, Like every blessing ; Then left behind it o' its sort. Long hours — distressing. I well expected that the clown Would surely cut me in his round, For long, long has he happy plown With my lost heifer ; Though some have told the story round, As my old " slipper." 0, if he'd cut on me his joke I would have giv'n him such a poke ; wit ! that would the stillness broke. AMERICAN rOMES. 61 And brought applause And then explained it to the folk, Despite o' laws. But to the truth ; what seemed best, Was a small speech to all addressed, Which brought intemperance to the test, And showed its crimes ; And pictured oif in words, impressed. Its sin at times. cause supreme ! cause divine ! — The brightest, fairest of the nine, — Long, long may it in honor shine O'er Glandford*s soil, And man to quietude incline, Nor quarrel, nor broil. And may its cause here prosper soon. And haste the happy time to come. When all may know the sun from moon, And day from night, And if they ramble out at noon, No more get tight. For lately I have heard it said, A neighbor got somewhat misled, And got strange pictures in his head. By drinking beer — That never yet was seen or read — Both strange and queer. f 52 OxVNADIAN AND And when returning home at night, Uncommon blith^ and unco' tight, He thought he saw the morning light Creep up before, And hailed a friend who came in sight — Good morning, Sir. His neighbor much enjoyed the fun. And let the gc; sip blither on. Agreeing with him 'twas the sun, And morr.ing bright, And wist not that it was the moon, And dead of night. « O sad, sad lot i wltc i man will feast On whiskey sv ilV or malten yeast, And grow less ser seless than a beast, And think it An ; Then, hail true temperance ! west and east, And haste it on. But last of all there came a poem, Composed by one, a Miss , Who came quite sprucely triping on, With much good grace, And showed abroad, to every one, A rosy face. Her features wore, at first, a smile, Which caught attention for a-while ; We listened, all, to learn a pile li: h'.l AMERICAN POEMS. Of sense and wit ; At length we heard of wit a style, • Of sense, a bit. But after much rhyme — clinking shakers, A few of Johnson's long jaw-breakers. As if addressed to moveless quakers. The tale was spun, — And then like all deception takers,- It all went down. How different was the closing air. That shone upon the maiden fair, The ■ook of pride turn's quick to care III all its might, The change of joy into despair, 0, sad the sight 1 Like pleasure sweet which turns to bitter. It first looks bright and all a-glitter, — Then flies in many a rent and flitter, Far, far away ; Though oft we strive in vain to get-her. She's* gone for aye. But for the lady's speech or air, And lengthened poem, I did not care, — For it is nothing new or rare. When they deceive us, And leave us all to gape and stare When fair one's leave us. 53 '11 \.< I II 54 CANADIAN AND And should, in future, man or boy Behold me thus my tiftie employ. May I have the exquisite joy Right off to lose it ; Then no one can its worth destroy, For no one knows it. 0, by my word, such critic folk ! To try to ape on me a joke ; A mammoth dunce, whose brains long soak In a huge cranny. Might give them all, in sense a poke, Or swamp their sawny. He, what-do-you-call-him, knave or sneak — Or, as some say, '* wade lip the creek " — That oft get on a fishing freak 'Eound bog and brake ; If so, who would his graces seek. Even for his sake. Now, may-be, this is a hard name, For which his merits do not claim, But well he shewed it was his aim To do me wrong. By lying down my rhyming fame On my old song. I'd rather be a mud-hole frog, And squat forever in a bog, To watch my kindred polley-wog, AMERICAN POEMS. 55 With ice-froze heart, Than face the world like some, a-gog, And act no part. A fig for those who change their rhymes , Just for to please the men of dimes, Or turn their coats to suit the times, In case of need ; I hate your little baby-shines, Or worse, your creed. Even you, who Yankees all despise, And curse them oft with flaming eyes, How could you lay without disguise. Upon one's breast, And think you'd gained a place to prize- Swoon off to rest, Perhaps you thought I did not see You turtle-doving on his knee, And having to yourselves a spree Behind the curtain ; But it was plain as it could be, You loved him certain. Alas ! thought I, alack for me ! That I should thus so lonely be. With none to sit upon my knee, And hug me to them ; But all I did was wipe ray e'e. And thus imbrue them. Tl!l 56 CANADIAN AND 0, had I but been in his place — Although you 'jount me a hard case — I'd given you such a warm embrace, Withh'ttle t'oublo, That would have beat right to disgrace Your Yankee Doodle. But Oh ! I must not chide your boy, Or even think him to anoy ; Perhaps.it might his rest r'estroy — His path o'er cast ; But let him " go-it," 'tis my joy To see you fast. For time is always on a run, And long has fled sweet twenty-one, So now 's the time for mirth and fun. In honeymoon ; Then do not fail to seek a man As long 's there 's one. But first, be careful how you play The game with these " skedaddlers" gay- One day they're here smd then away, They leave their squire ; Then love, like fat, old grannies say, Is in the fire. ii a tM So then be canny how you court, Or set your cap on such sweet sport, Nor be content with any sort. AMERICAN POEMS. 57 On any plan, For man's good graces oft are short, And half are sham. For I would caution you, my dear, To keep just from the Yankees clear, For they are, of all folks, most queer. Though seeming nice ; Then do not trust the rogues too near^ Or to a s — e. But hold, my pen ! cease scratching folly ! You 're always like myself, unruly ; Wind up your nonsense now, by golly, Or matrimony; Though well you think 'tis right and holy, And sweet as honey. I own, I scarce can hold you back, Or keep you in an even track. And stop you from your cutting clack, And poking fun ; Even, now you long to vent your crack On Mr Oft hast thou scratched a better theme, And oft you run just like a stream. Dipt, as if in a golden beam, Nor time mis-spent ; Come now just tell my friend a dream That once I dream't. ^h' ^ i (I , 1 I 11 mm I ll liH lili 58 CANADIAN AND 'T was on a long misguided night, The stars shone down with sparkling light, And I had been sky-larking late, And just got home ; And creeping up the stair-case height, Soon found my room. I had but scarcely got in bed, And laid me down my weary head, When midnight dreams soon overspread My fancies fumming, And then I heard, right overhead; A strange, queer bumming. Methought, in my midnight dream, I saw, just by the window's gleam, A tall form, like a shadowy sheen, Move on the floor ; But soon it got right in between My bed and door^ I soon discerned it was no friend, Even by his mein from end to end, For soon he gave my bed a send. And grabbed the post j Get out, says I, you muckle fiend — Are you a ghost ? At first I thought 't was him. Old Boy^ Who came my life just to destroy. Then half I bellowed c at see-boy, AMERICAN POEMS. Take care, don't goaid me ; Hold to your helm hard on, a-hoy ! You *11 run aboard me. The fright half took me unawares, And made me think about my prayers, But more of scratching down the stairs. To get a light ; For you must know, old dad o' cares, Is no nice sight. He had a hooked nose, not flat, And two great wings just like a bat, And a long tail most like a rat. With fangs upon, Which he might handle, in combat, Like a harpoon. And over all, thick scales were seen That were a sort of brownish-green, Which covered him just like the screen That cloaks a priest, Only the first enrobes a fiend, The last, his guest. And for his face — 0, such a mouth ! Run at right angles, north and south. Wherein stood teeth hooked like a trout, To hold on folk, O'er which there streamed, like a spout. Both fire {^nd smoke. 69 I « 60 CANADIAN AND The great long fingers and the nails, Backed by the thickly-armor'd scales, Looked much like pulling fire-brand rails, And poking coals, To roast thereon, like reptile snails. Poor mortal's souls. Quoth I, old Nick, if Nick you are, You must have just returned from war. For on your brow there 's many a scar. And on your face ; You must have been out driving far, Or on a chase. He gave his great long tail a shake, As if to show it for my sake ; Take care, says I, you may it break, With such a lashing ; But faith my bones began to quake, For fear o' thrashing. I do not doubt you are my match. Though once I did not fear you much. Meantime, I '11 keep out of your clutch — Look here old hale, How come you by that awful scratch Across your tail ? And then the point 's off your right horn. That does your calabash adorn. While your left one points like a thorn, AMERICAN POEMS. 61 So slim and straight ? Tou must have broke it off some morn On a hard pate : And by your old brown wrinkled face I see there 's marks of some disgrace ; Have you been in a luckless chase, Of mortal souls, And met with one, too hard a case, 'Twixtthe poles? Hold, Sir ! quoth Nick — I '11 iell you, Sir, How that sad mishap did occur : I got it once while on a tour Below the sun. And broke it on a flinty cur. Whose name was — — . I surely thought I'd bring him in, With such a poke I gave at him, But it ne'er entered through the skin, Alone his heart. And did no more than if it had been A muckle f 1. Then back I turned to my cell, And summoned up the hosts of h-^1. And to them all my tale did tell. And showed my horn. At which they all did howl and yell, And look forlorn. p >;l I I I 62 CANADIAN AND Then to my legions thus I said : I '11 put a crown upon the head Of any one, who shall bring dead That awful case, And have his name in honor read Long in this place I Then off flew , right straight amain, Who never yet was halt or maim ; Quite sure, I thought, he'd cal- a the game, So quick he flew ; But his great speed was all in vain — So he withdrew. And back he came, with slower pace — Which told me ho had failed in chase — With disappointment on his face, And drooping head, And as he sighed his doleful case, 'T was thus ho said : I 've travelled the terrestial round, On sea and land, with a swift bound, And still my match I never found, In black or grey, Whilst hunting o'er my choicest ground. Seeking for prej*. Till on that fatal, lucklecs hoar, I set upon your prize-matched tower. Even for the man that braved your shower, AMERICAN POEMS. As if 't were fun ; I might as well have saved my power, And let him run : For all the skill I brought to bear Upon his head, just mussed the .hair ; With less I 've butcher' d many a pair, And many ii hundred, Which made me tliink I'd missed it fair, And somewhat blundered. I brought my spy-glass to my ee, And looked through him for a wee, To see if I a soul could see Within his breast ; At length I spied it, like a flea. Peep from its nest. And once I fancied I had got it, And went to put it in my pocket, But soon it slipped from out my locket. Just as a flea. And jumped back right into its socket, And peeped at me. If I had had a trap, though late, And had a penny for a bait, I might have caught it then, first-rate. But I had none ; So then T left it to its fate With Mr. . 63 '% !,■ 64 CANADIAN AND Bui last of all, I got a plan, Which was a real one, not a sham ; I got me just the proper man To act my part — For ho '11 do for nic all he can With fiendish art. I found out that this little soul, Though snug it kept within itg hole, Could hardly e'en itself control At dead of night ; And oft it sought a kindred shoal. To keep it right. I put it in my flunkey's head, To go and fright him out of bed, If best he could to raise old Ned, Just for a spree ; Or if he could, to fright him dead, As you shall see. So oflf he put, right straight for Full well resolved to have some fun, And crept into the house alone, And gained the floor ; Then gave a most unearthly groan, Which made it roar. His groans soon waken'd up his prey. Who looked first some green, then grey ; Says he, I '11 bet the deil's to pay AMERICAN POEMS. 65 i Up over head, And so we'd better clear awry Before we 're dead. For sure as death I heard a ghost, Or Nick himself, who will us roast, Just for himself a morning's toast, Down in his cell, Or have us all chained to a post, OS down in h — 1. Then out upon the floor he flew. And near unto the window drew — Which, with one bound, he soon went through, And then he lit, Just where — now here 's the name, 'tis true, A mortar pit. And there he rolled and wallowed over. Submerged in lime i^p to the shoulder, With but a shirt his skin to cover, And still so frightened He scarcely knew one end from tother. Or where he lighted. Yet still, € en there, he had a friend. Who from the window did descend. And unto him his aid did lend, With all his might, Saying, now then take care of yoursee'n— Then said good-night. I ^ i m i\ m H kI '66 CANADIAN AND Then off fled , out o'er the plain, Straining every nerve and vein, Pushing with all his might to gain Some harmless coast, Where peace and quietude would reign, Without a ghost. . The sticks and stones sore did him goad, The lime and mud made quite a load, Quite sure he thought he'd gained the road- And was a rover — That leads o'er many a weary rood, From town to Dover. * iH * * For once of late I passed that way, Where oft of old I used to stray, And saw poor mortals their tolls pay, Without reduction. For privilege to drive all day To their destruction. The sight it did my fancy please, My horn felt better and more ease — I gave George Bightman his degrees In planks and stones, Saying make the rebels pay you fees To break their bones. * Hamilton and Port Dover plank and stone road. AMERICAN POEMS. And this is all the way we use him, By ghosts and goblins to abuse him, And oft, I fear, by-George, I '11 lose him, He 's such a boor ; Yet with my broken horn I '11 bruise him, If I can't do more. Next time I get a chance to gore him, I 'U bet a penny that I '11 bore him, And send him, southern-bound, a roaring With all his wit. Thus spoke auld Nick, as he sped soaring, He '11 get it yet. And then I saw no more of Nick, He flew away so mighty quick, And left me just a parting lick Of brimstone scent, At which I gave a saucy kick, Then felt content. The morning then began to gleam, Which woke me from my funny dream, I just gave one half grunt and scream. Then bright awoke — Saying it's worth telling what I seen, And no small joke. 67 if • U\ 68 CANADIAN AND OCCASIONAL PIECES. ON A DREARY WINTER'S DAY. WRITTEN ON SEEING A FOOT-PRINT IN THE SNOW. On a dreary winter's day, As o'er the fields I bent my way, Along a rugged path ; The ground was covered, far and near. With fleecy snow-drifts, cold and drear, And everything looked sad. As onward o'er the waste of snow. With eager pace, yet sure and slow, — Still keeping in a line — By chance a little track track I crossed, Deep printed in the cold white frost, Not half so large as mine. And as I viewed the mark behind. The thought came rushing to my mind Of days that swiftly roll'd. When o'er the same rough, dreary way, I rambled on from day to day. And left a similar mould. ^ SNOW. AMERICAN POMES. 69 The chilly winU , as they flew, And lengthened summers ever new, Yet swiftly they have flown ; And each, in its succeeding round, Was sought and spent, and still I found That track had larger grown. But happier then, when young and free, With playmates ever filled with glee — Companions of my heart — With songs so sweet to stir the air, And breasts so light, unknown to care ; But now from then: I part. No troubled thoughts then rent my mind, Or broken ties, which now I find, And never seem to die ; But evening set with smiling scenes, And morning dawned with pleasant dreams, No clouds obscured the sky. And twenty summers now have fled, With time scarce numbered, ever sped With all its various turns. And many crooked paths I view, As memory brightens up anew, And torches glow and burns. But in the future, who can say How through this world its course will lay, Or which wav it raav ber.r ; i:-; f 70 CANADIAN AND Perchance upon a foreign soil, 'Midst war and strife to tug and moil, And end its rambles there. There surely is a dreary lane That wears no bloom but want and pain, And ends in death and woe ; Yet many crowd along its walls, And fill its coffers and its halls — To drink its pains they go. But in the sight of brighter scenes, I look for bliss while fancy gleams, And hope revives my breast ; The fairest way that wins regard, And with it ends a rich reward, That way is surely best. Though often mingled are its flowers, And sometimes thorny are its bowers. Yet endeth right f>t last, When all its floods and seas are crost^ And trials sink, and cares are lost, And sorrows gladly passed. And now I bid my thoughts adieu ! I have reviewed my youth anew, Like as a midnight dream ; While joy sinks backward to the breast^ And memory, weary, takes her rest. And fane J sh„'s the scene. AMERICAN POEMS. 71 " WEEP FOR THOSE THAT WEPT." LINES ON A VERSE OF LORD BYRON'S* " weep for those that wept," By Babel's rolling stream, Whose shrines and homes are desolate, Whose land is but a dream, Whose harps upon the willows hung — Their tuneless harps so long unstrung. There, by those hostile waters, they In mournfui silence weep ; Still pressed within their bosoms they Their much-loved Zion keep, While still upon the willows hung Their tuneless harps, all, all unstrung. Far, in a strange land, By Jordan's rolling stream, While to their distant view Fair Salem's towers are seen ; How can they wake new notes of song, Or tune the harp so long unstrung ? And can they e'er forget Their once loved happy home, Its walls and tempel'd hill, In fair Jerusalem ; Where once their harps with music rung, Where they tie songs of Zion sung. m ■m 72 CANADIAN AND Then can they tune their harps — In that unhappy land, Or sing the heavenly song In a strange and foreign land — Or swell their notes with rapturous song, Or tune their harps so long unstrung ? DISAPPOINTMENTS. May 18th, 1859. The morning breaks, my bosom quakes, But not alone for care or grief, For if 't were only sadness now, Fond hope might bring it short relief; But anxious thought, with tenfold force, Comes o^er me like a swelling blast, And sinks in gloom my muse's bloom. The little spark of joy o'ercasts. The morning dawns as breaks the day, And creeps above the forest hoar. In vain I strive to catch a ray From out its never-ending store, And oft returning to the change Imagination's charm to find, The shadow flies, the vision dies. And leaves a gloomy sight behind. AMERICAN POEMS. 73 The birds in spring time may rejoice, And sweetly sing upon the bough, Through woodland green, from morn to e'en, Forever free as they are now ; But disappointments always dark The brightest hours that ever shine, •A.nd now I find it has, too true, Thrown all its shadows upon mine. But by experience, now I find. That expectation's but a charm, Which passes like the morning wind. With little good or little harm ; ' * 'Midst ups and downs that happen now, And numerous ills that come between, Time yet will write upon my brow Most frightful changes now unseen. But fortune's change will ebb and flow, 'T is all delusion reigning here. Yet let one cheering ray of hope Around my pathway linger near ; But winter, with its blighting chills, Leave gloomy traces far behind, So, disappointments, with their ills, Leaves sorry pictures on my mind. (i pi: 74 CANADIAN AND IT IS NOT A J0K15. FIRST TRUE LOVE KISS. It is not a joke that I will pretend To smuggle upon you, 't h this : That the greatest affection ^at o 'e can reveal, Is the magical power of the first i^ac love kiss. Thon the penitent heart leaves its wearisome cell, And soars to the regions of rapturous bliss. Where only the enjoyer its blessings can tell Of the wonderful magic — the first true love kiss. CANADA THISTLE. Since Adam met his awful fate, And banished far from Eden's gate ; Since this wide world's terresilal ball. Was cursed because of Adam's fall, With thorns and thistles, and what then, To haunt the last resort of man, One sigh o'er Eden's gate he threw. And wept a silent last adieu, And learned his lasting sentence then. Which burdens down the hearts of men ; That he should eat his future bread Beneath a sweating aching head, AMERICAN POEMS. An endless war he was to wield Against the curses of the field ! 0, awful sentence to relate The burden of his future state ; Since then, alas ! to mortal man The curse lies heavy on his hand, Unceasing still as time rolls on, And widens fast beneath the sun. Luxuriant and more thick to live,' Is all the comfort it can give. A sore mishap, alas, for all, A heavy burden on his care, That galls his shoulders till they 're bare,. With scarce a joy to cheer his way. Or hope to see a better day, But doomed to toil by might and main. Till every sweat drop drains a vein ; And still this earth must ever wear That curse of Adam's that we bear. Destroying as with warlike strife, Cutting the tender cords of life ; Too often pruned the deeper pang By Satan and his fallen gang. 75' LIFE HAS BEGAN. Life has began ; its morning sun Has gently left the dawning sky. Serene and calm, unclouded yet, Without a ripple or a sigh. 76 CANADIAN AND Life has began ; the ship has left With promises in every gale, All spotless white her banners fly, And hopes to swell her distant sail. Life has began ; but who ca** tell Where the first breaker, rising fast, Shall with one angry foaming swell The little barque of life o'ercast. Life has began ;' the morning flies, And noon-beams sparkle far away, No clouds as yet obscure the sky, To mingle 'midst its golden ray. Life has began ; the golden dream In fancy guilds its bed with gold, Till time sweeps like a mighty stream. And then the sorry dream is told. FAR AWAY. Far away ! words that ever we ponder ; Who, with its meaning, has something to say ? The wide-roaming sailor, the far-straying wanderer, Methinks meet it ever o'er life 's thorny way ; On the rough swelling ocean, where pearls are lurking, Its sound, through his memory ever keeps darting, And when from the shore his vessel is parting. He thinks of the friends he has left far away. AMERICAN POEMS. 77 The soldier, that stands by the wa* oh-fire gleaming, As he looks o'er the plain stretched out to his sight^ Will oft turn his eyes toward the polar star beamings And forget that the foe is encanip'd to his right ; And, when from the battle-field, ghastly and gory, He returns 'mid the shouts of triumph and glory, He rejoices to think that history's story, Of his feats will be read by his friends far away. The lone pioneer in the dark forest wild-wood. As oft from his labors his thoughts gladly stray, To the home of his father and scones of his childhood, Where youth and its beauties were squandered away , The oak and elm there flourish beside him, Where a ray of the sun's beams scarcely can find him, Yet oft 'mid the forest these thoughts ever chide him, To think of the home of his friends far away. We all of us know of its sharp, stinging sorrow, Of its notes on life's organ that murmur a lay. And oft, for relief, fond hope do we borrow, To mingle with sadness and lessen its sway, Perchance, 'neath the shade of the low bending willow, We think of the friends that are far on the billow, And oft on the couch of midnight's soft pillow. We dream of the ones that are dear far away. And life would be dreary, with all its afflictions, But for that assurance that ne'er can decay, When we read of a country where friends are not sever'd, Where gloomy December 's as pleasant as May ; 78 CANADIAN AND And when in the horizon our day-star's descending, And life's varied scenes of affliction's are endins?, That word of assurance is still ever lending Its hope to the heart, of a home far away. A FRAGMENT. ON WAKING OUT OF A DREAM. 0, night ! night ! how dreary : My heart is growing weary Of dreaming o'er pleasures that's passed on before ; Shake oiF this weeping, Despondency *s creeping ; Fret not o'er the page that 's written of yore — Their signature 's set, By loss and neglect — Turn over a leaf for a happier day ; Then look for a morning, With blessings adorning, Far better to live in a region of light, Than, with the morn's gleaming, Keep constantly dreaming Qf pleasures that ever are hidden in night — Their visions have fled. The feeling is dead ; Why muse on a phantom that scarce has a ray ? Then come bright to-morrow, Unmingled with sorrow. And chase with thy sunbeams this sadness away. $ jding, or ti before ; ^ore — 1 ray ? s away. AMERICAN POEMS. ^'0 THEN REMEMBER ME I" rt When the day ia brightest, And your cares arc lightest, " then remember mo !" When with friends thou meetest, All their loves are sweetest, And mirth wafts on the fleetest, " then remember me !" When the day is darkest, And your joys the shortest, " then remember me !" And when cares arc swelling O'er life's humble dwelling, Hopes and joys dispelling, " then remember me !" When the winter 's dreariest, And the snow the clearest, " then remember me !" When the snow-flakes stray i nj>- O'er thy pathway playing, Spring-time all delaying, " then rememb' r me!" When the spring, returning, Bright its sun is burning, " then remember me !" • When the summer 's beaming. ;ii:| 80 CANADIAN ANI> Pleasant r'lys are streaming, And morning meekly gleaming^ " then remember me !" When around thee lying Are garden roses dying, '* then remember me !" When they would adore thee, And shed their fragrance o'er thee,. Or new ones bloom before thee, " then remember me !'* When beneath the willow. The grassy mound 's thy pillow, " still remember me !" When heavenly joys are smiling,. On thy bosom piling, The live-long day beguiling, " then remember me T' When round thy chamber lonely The Angels whisper only, " then remember me !" When thy slumbers press thee, And in dreams they bless thee, Or with love caress thee, • then remember me !" When by the winding river Distance shall us sever, " then remember me !" AMERICAN POEMS. 81 When 'midst those bowers thou revest, By the path thou chosest, Far from the one thou lovest, " then remember me !" MY HEART IS UNCHANGING. Loved one of my youth, my partner in truth , By ties so entwined around me — If ill fate should ever compel us to sever, My* heart is unchanging, — 't is always with thee. When love is sincere it speaks with a tear — Then it proves it is true, we agree — And a cold winning smile is a hypocrit's wile, Then my heart is thus true for it beats warm for thee. 0, remember no more my faults that are o'er, But forgive them, I ask it for me, And cherish sincerely the heart that loves dearly — That beats still the same and lives only for thee. When the day has grown dreary and memory weary, And the hopes that so cheer us are sunk in the sea, Still think of the rover, whose frieks are all over, For his heart is the same and loves only thee. €ome joy, or come sorrow, to darken my morrow, And scatter my comforts, few as they be, Though distance should ever our happiness sever, My heart still is thine and loves only thee. 82 CANADIAN AND DEAREST FRIEND,— TO ME SINCEREST. Dearest friend, to me sincerest, Nearest unto me thou art, None beside are half so cherished, Or implanted in my heart ; While I hoard thee, fairest treasure, And endear thee unto me, Grief is swallowed up in pleasure, When my memory thinks of thee. Truest friendship, how I love it ! Wealth and gold I covet less — Fame and honors are beneath it. Earth can give no greater bliss ; Though clear my morning sun now beams, And future hopes bright on me shine. Yet all their bliss to me is nought. If I can never count thee mine. Though by changes now unseen, Parted here our lot may be, Distance shall not disunite us, But endear thee unto me ; Dearest gem ! to me most dear, No envious one shall sever. Those strong, strong ties that girds our hearts Must live and bind forever. AMERICAN POEMS. MY MOTHER'S GRAVE. 83 Where the summer winds are creeping, Where they fan the wild woods still, There my mother now is sleeping. On the Glanford churchyard hill. Well I know her resting place, Well I know where she is laid, And the spot, so oft remembered, Never in my mind can fade. - Now I pass the place so lonely, With a slow and silent tread. Walking with my brother only, And thou art slumb'ring with the dead ; I need not say, alas, that thou Were left alone there to abide, For death has broke aga n our circle, And laid my sister by thy side. hearts I look into the churchyard gate, I see the little grassy mound. And enter ; all looks desolate, To tread its silent walks profound. And lonely walking to the place, Many a sorry sigh I gave. Whilst leaning o'er the buried stone, Musing o'er my mother's grave. 84 ' OAN-#r>IAN AND And i/iieii there comes a sudden fear, And through my breast a sudden smart, My heart, though hardened long by care. Is pierced as by an unseen dart ; Is it because I think thee near, My mother, in this narrow bed ? Or is thy spirit hov'ring near, And art thou here, or art thou fled ? Perchance from regions far unknown, Thou hast there heard my childish wail^ And to this lonely church-yard flown, To hear me tell my sorry tale ; But if thou can'st not walk the ground With me as when in long fled years, I '11 strew these wild flowers o'er thy mound,. And then methinks you will come near. While memory still with pain awakes The scenes of many a by-gone year, E'er time and change's ruthless pace Have made these scenes to me less Cim. I 've seen e'er this in frolic wild. The whistling winds of winter lave. And pile with all-resistless force The snow heaps o'er my mother's grave. And as I have, so oft, returning F^om the school house on the hill, Whilvi my breast with joy was burning With that joy I covet still ; .^' VN.-^-^« irt,. ii. md,. di ^e. AMERICAN POMES. 85 And I have paused with warm heart beating — Beating in its little cave, To listen to the wild winds weeping — "Weeping o'er m^ mother's grave. With playmates then I learned to rove, And mingle in their sports with glee; My boyhood's joys come creeping on, Then felt I like a bird«set free. I learned to pass the silent place With still less care from day to day. With less restraint to bind my feet, — No mother's hand to guard my way. My days of grief soon wafted by, Surrounded as they were by pain, I half forgot them with a sigh, And never wished them back again ; I feel not now as once I did, Grief's heaviest load has drifted o'er, And oft I 'vc wished them ever hid — Borne from my bosom evermore. Yet from my mind I cannot chase Thoughts of the past — they find me yet ; Nor time, nor change can them eflface, — Those scenes I never can forget, Though years have passed since you and I Would blend our voices oft in glee. Or listen to my little song, I sang so' oft beside thy knee. tV^ «*■' ;,:■! fi '5:1 evil 86 CANADIAN AND And I remember when you blessed me, And heaped them on my future lot; When sickness first began its blighting,. And entered in our silent cot ; I watched its course with eager eye: To see you fade I did repine, Like as the worn out sotting sun I saw you silently decline. • 'T was night! and all was lone and still,. While I was sleeping in my bed ; The morning came, my father brought The sorry news that you were dead ; I scarce believed it, 't was to rae new, I sought once more to see thy face I sought, but oh ! I found it true : Then roamed about in that sad place. At length they bore you from tlie cot ; I asked not why, I asked not where; I learned to yield to T.y fnvl lot, •And walk its sorry road of care ; And left with but one last adieu — One farewell s\Q;h X lonely gave. Then with the crowd I moved alonjT, To lay yor- i't VO'tVi' 'narrow 2;ravc. Now years have pass-^d shiceby thy side You clasped my iittic hand in thine, And led me to our apple i^ree — Long after did I call it mine : Mii« AMERICAN POEMS. 87 And time has fled, that tree is dead — It now is withered and decayed, And I beheld it withering fast, Like you, I saw it lowly laid. And years have passed since winter storms Raved wildly o'er our old log cot, And piled the snow-drifts on my couch. Thus pitiless are our humble lot ; But thou wer't ever neax* my bed, To watch that T should take no harm, To fold the blankets round my head, And smiled to think that I was warm. Now years have passed since childhood fled, 'Mid youth's serene unclouded weather. But I have made some crooked paths Since you and I were linked together : When shall I ever find another, Whose bliss with mine shall know no end ? Till death shali break them all asunder — Who ever lost so great a friend ? Now since I 've made me other friends, And they from me have oft been parted. Friends — I now will name them so, Trusting they are like true hearted ; And strong affections I have lost. And formed them strong again with others ; But who can love me with that love Which knew no change like as my mother's ? 88 CANADIAN AND And those affections oft the dearest Have been torn from me now — Lost and blighted though the nearest : Time may trace them on my brow ; While those ties, the ties the strongest^ Then so tight around mc wound. Now alas, their links are severed. Never more to be rejoined. Now I find my feelings changing ; (Grief now strikes the lighter blows— Which by constant force are hardened- Calloused harder, harder grows, And new griefs, by time revealing. Cross my path now evr'y where ; But they find this heart less feeling, For it now is known to care. ■) But while n?7 life is streaming onward To that ali unbounded sea, Memory will at times remind me Of my mother dear to me, Although T now much less regret her — Though fate makes me 'gainst my will- Can I, can I e'er forget her ? Can I less deplore her still ? Now fifteen years with steady creeping, Have forced me on up life's rough hill, And time, whose motion all unceasing,. Finds me with the living still. AMERICAN POEMS. 'Since that hand whose gentle keeping Smoothed these locks upon my brow ; Who can blame me then for weeping ? For I. have no mother now. 89 I LAST WITNESS. -) How happy the Christian's last hour I How peaceful and tranquil the breast ! What beauty decks the fair flower. As it sinks in its slumbers to rest. The battle of life is now fought, Its cares and afflictions are o*er ; The victory is gained, and there 's nought To grieve or perplex any more. As a ship on the ocean o'ertossed, But has gained the fair port at last ; The waves and the billows are crossed — The storms and the tempests are passed. No sorrows nor grief can get there, Whore the tears are all wiped from the eyes ; Where deceit never poisons the air, And friendship and love never di3s. There the harps of the blessed shall "ing, Where the fair flowers never decay ; 90 CANADIAN AND Where tho warblers of Paradise sing, And December is as happy as May. that this joy would be mine, When life and its conflicts are past, With the loved ones forever to shine In the glorified home of the blest. WE SPEAK OF THE HEAVEN ABOVE. We speak of the Heaven above, Of the friends tnat have gone there before. Of its mansions all bounded by love, Which bloorn on that peaceable shore. We sing of its temples of gold. Of the flowers that ever bloom fair. And muse on the happy abode, And cherish a hope to get there. O] r Th r An( I Ma • « NO SIGHS SHALL REND THE SILENT AIR." No sighs shall rend the silent air. No sounds of sadness enter there, No clouds obscure the summer sky, Or evening breezes angry sigh j But all be peace, where not a wave Of grief shall o'er the bosom lave. AMERICAN POEMS. 91 ^E. fore. AIR." Far in the realms of yonder sphere, Where rapture crowns the rolling year, With seraphs there their songs to give— Wiih them on heavenly anthems live. FATHER OF MERCIES.^A PRAYER. Father of Mercies we ask thy protection, To guard and defend us by night and by day — Thy grace to enshrowd us, to guard against danger3> That meet us forever on life's troubled way. And when here below our days are all numbered. And our sun in the west begins to descend, May we with thy loved ones escape to that mansion Where blessings and happiness ne'er know an end. REMORSE. Remorse for sin how sad, how sure, The guilty heart has to endure. Where days are spent in sin and shame, And for their vice themselves must blame, — Whose sun is set, whose talents spent. And to the last on sin intent. Alas, cold death is sure to bring Remorse : that wild incessant sting Steals o'er the soul in dark dispair — Remorse is all that 's graven there. ■«; tl I I 1 IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET {MT-3) 1.0 !f «a I I.I 2.5 2.2 I/- IIIIIM III 1.8 1.25 1.4 1.6 ^ 6" ► V] <^ /a 7 % s'--' >.'' // '/ >!S^ Photographic Sdences Corporation 33 WEST MAIN STREET WEBSTER, N.Y. 14580 (716) 872-4503 ,\ iV ■1>^ :\ \ •>''" ^^ ^^^ .Va c> ^' s^ ^2 CANADIAN AND In that dread moment's awful dark, The soul's last flickering, lingering spark Darts through its cave, Shrinks from the grave's unbounded womb, Strives to avoid the jawniog tomb, Worse dread of everlasting gloom Beyond the grave. HOW SAD THE LOT OF MAN WOULD BE. How sad the lot of man would be. As o'er this world he 's driven — His life would be a loathsome load But for thfe hopes of Heaven. His cares and toils would bear him down On life's rough road uneaven, But for the many soothing thoughts — The soothing thoughts of Heaven. The man who serves his God below, Who knows his sins forgiven. Who feels his sins are washed away On earth, has tasted Heaven. And for the man who does His will His blessed promise given : Who sows the seed of lasting life Shall reap the joys of Heaven. AMERICAN POEMS. For here the good man meets his end, From cares and sorrows riven ; And gladly loaves this world of woe To share the bliss of Heaven. 93 THE DELUSION. Deluded in youth by the world's giddy show, I wandered afar from virtue and right,. Resolved all the depths of enjoyment to know. Its fields of amusements reached out to my sight. I dreamed of amusements that rose by the way, I grasped at the future reached out to my view, I sought — but, alas, it soon vanished away, ' As the breeze of the morning sweeps over the dew. Ah ! short were the hours that pleasure would oheer^ And cloudy the day that promised so fair ; The sun of my hopes, that once shone so clear. Is sunk in oblivion and set in dispair. All lone and forgot and oppressed with care. Destined o'er the waves of affliction to roam,. With scarcely a ray of joy's setting star. But bear up my sorrows and troubles alone. ffii I I 11 ^4 CANADIAN AND THE SUMMER'S SUN. The summer 's past and gone, The autumn shades appear. O may we all remember, too, The fall of life draws near. Soon shall the earth be clad By winter's dread array. So comes cold death in all its dread, And sweeps us all away. Yet will the summers fly, And nature's robes decay ; And we shall sleep when life is past. As seasons fade away. LINES WRITTEN IN THE " GOLDEN STEPS FOR THE YOUNG." Loved golden steps to guide my way, What useful truths are here enrolled ! What debt for thee can I repay ? I deem thee richer far than gold. Thy precepts they are greater far, Thy wisdom is a purer gem, And shines far brighter than the star On riches' proudest diadem. ill AMERICAN POEMS. Though in life's thorny wild I stray, Thy treasure to my soul hath given A rule by which to guard my way, And climb the path that leads to heaven. And may thy rule for ever last, And round my path in future shine, Till years shall look on virtues past, And prove the brightest of the nine. » HOW MATCHLESS THY BLESSINGS. .TEPS How matchless thy blessings, 0, Israel's King ! Of thy goodness around me Forever I '11 sing. Thy love all unbounded, My path to illume. With blessing:;* enshrouded, Dispersing my gloom. How gladly I '11 sing Of thy wondrous ways, While the valleys shall xing With the theme of my lays. Then hopes of my morning Unclouded arise. Nor darken one moment My trust in the skies. 96 CANADIAN AND MAY I AT LAST LIE DOWN. May I at last lie down Beneath some grassy mound. In silent rest, Wi*ere storms nor fears can trace My long last resting place, Nor cares nor sorrow chase My weary breast. Where all the rolling year Beside my bed you *11 hear The running rivulet ; And all the summer day The sun his power display In warm and gentle ray, To rise and set. O, ] STANZAS WRITTEN IN A GIFT. As on o'er life's uneven way We move along with silent tread, How oft before its ending day We turn and think of hours that 's fled ! And if our path hath e'er been blest By plighted friends or kindred dear, A gift from them with love impressed, May for their memory drop a tear. AMERICAN POEMS. So may it be whene'er you view This humble gift even from a friend, That he who gave it still is true To constancy that knows no end. And if misfortune* s angry blast Should e'er remove you where I *m not, This may remind you of the past, — If not for this might be forgot. M C LASSIE, ART THOU WEEPING YET ? • 0, lassie, art thou weeping yet ? And is thy bosom moving sore ? Because thou art of love bereft, And I am deaily thine no more. And is that sigh, and is that tear A leaf, a mirror of the pa&t. Where I may reach a wish sincere^ And ardent love, strong to the last ? And is that breast that heaves so strong Inflated with one wreaking pain, That all our loves have fled so long, And blighted ne'er to bloom again ? • Or art thou musing o'er the hours That once were happy, once were thine. r 98 CANADIAN ANI> As bright and clear as Eden's bowers — More pleasing still as they were mine ? Then if those keen emotions beam, Even with the fervent wish so true, We may again our joy redeem, Our vanished love with hope renew. Lassie, then stay that tear the while, And let thy bosom sigh no more. I fain would claim again thy smile, And own it dearer than before. GIVE ME BACK MY VANISHED HOURS. 0, give me back those vanished hours ! 0, give me back my joys a^ain ! One dream in youth's secluded bowers Would end despairing age and pain. Dear lady, do I ask in vain ? Are all youth's happy moments fled ? Is there not in the soul one strain To murmur back one joy that 's dead ? And is it but a foolish thought ? If so, forgive this wish of mine ' It comes from one that long hath sought To end his latest lot with thine. i le? lOURS. AMERICAN POEMS. Lady, you weep: I see the tea «» Come stealing down thy plaoid obeek, As if with grief recalling years From out fell timers dismantled wreck. Ah, ~8ckless time I thy pitile^ storm ] i.'ath driven mc on through care and life ; And pale is now the ruby form, That once could mock thy ruthless knife. How oft I Ve dreamed, when sad and lone, As night its silent vigils kept, OP thy fond name I learned to own, And when the rxorning broke have wept. And then in memory dear thy name Would oft a myriad thoughts recall, For then thou were as still the same^ More dear unto me still than all Dear lady, when I hear thee sigh, Again I fee.-, again I burn^ While fancy wings- our loveo still nigh, And whispers that they may return. Then let me wipe away the tear, For still to me one joy is left — To know I have a friend eincere, That time and change has not bereft. 100 CANADIAN AND STANZAS WKITTEN IN AN ALBUM. Perchance, in some succeeding year, These lines may tneet a pensive eye, And wako a thought to memory dear, Or from a bosom heave a sigh. 0, may they not be buried here, But prized even for their author's sake. 'T is his ambition still sincere The link of friendship strong to make. Yet, 't is to me a happy thought To fancy what my joys may be — To know that I am not forgot, But dearly prized or loved by thee. Then fate might drive me o'er the sea, Those links unsevered would remain, While hope would lend its magic free, And dreams would bring me here again. 0, WERE MY HOME BY YONDER VALE. 0, were my home by yonder vale, My heritage, my mansion there. Where oft the sky-lark tells his tale, And sings the farmer's maiden fair. A, n. XB. AMERICAN POEM§. lOl "There I would spend a happy life : All vain ambition would I shun ; The world despise with all its strife ; Live with my lassie all alone. No grief as now would wreck my heart, Nor envious cares disturb my peace ; But every day would joy impart, And year by year would them increase. What bliss, what rapture would I feel I What endless pleasures fill my breast ' And every night would joy reveal, With Jenny to my bosom pressed. Then wealth might seek a haughtier mind, Where vile ambition throws its ray : No greater gem I'd seek to find, Till death should end life's peaceful day. While I may here her name revere — That name like music unto me — Some unseen voice speaks in my ear That I may yet my wishes see. And, pondering on life's future sphere, Hope ever builds her wishes vain. Even now I find she tells me here I may a piradise regain. And, backward glancing o'er the past, Of where I am and where I 've been, If2 eANADIAN ANP The silent thoughts oft o'er me cant A wish to see what I have seen. And could I be as I have been — Gould I my futurq fate allure, I would reclaim youth's vanished scene — Its prospects bright, its loves more pure» Its happy sweet secluded ways, Beside the bowers of amorous joy — These were the sweets of early days : How glad I'd be again a boy. But life moves onward like the blast. Some mark unseen, some goal to gain, Though I should claim this to the last — This harbored thought, this wish retain. I SAW AGAIN THAT SMILE OF THINE. I saw again that smile of thine Beam bright on me as when of yore ; And then methought again 't was mine, More dearly precious than before. I saw that glance, that same sweet look, I once so fond imagined true ; And yet would fain my doublings brook More strongly than I used to do. Ii'i AMERICAN P0£118. lOS E. I Buw thy lip» move with desire, And paled by vivid aocentH meek, As if to hide emotion's fire, Bright burning on thy flushing cheek. I »aw again affection's tear, Spring as 't were from a burdened heart; And then I knew that love sincere — That naught but death its chain could part. . . . . if still I hold that name — If in thy graces I may be, • It wakes the old desire the same, That glows and burns alone for thee. Thy love still mine ; ah, oft I 'vc felt That brightened wish it was not vain ; If at love's gentle shrine I 've knelt, 'T was that our joys might bloom again. Then doubting thoughts I now will shun, From out my breast their blighting chase, They were not made for me to own — Let happier feelings take their place. And now I sure may deem and own Thy constant love which moves thy breast — 'T will still be mine and thou alone Can'st make my frenzied bosom blessed. 104 MATRIMONY. Poor foolish man, the subject of my theme, A short-lived shadow of a midnight dream, A long-duped object o'er life's rugged way. The easy dupe to ambitious woman's sway. Fool as you see him, wheresoe'er he goes, A fagged-out flunkey by his many woes — All gone his manly pride and self respect ; But what he does must first ask her consent — Must toe the scratch, and ape her orders grand, And feel himself submissive to her high command. In short, he must concile him to his fate. And live, as well he may, in a submissive state. Like as a simple child be overruled. And if need be like Adam " also fooled"; And live content beneath her lordly sway — J 110 CANADIAN AND To tell the truth, must honor and obey. She while with self-conceited mind, Thinks not upon the miseries behind, But looks and glories in her power To pour her judgments on the present hour, And prophesy some great transaction soon About to come from somewhere or the moon. But look again and see the other side : How looks the husband 'at his frowning bride ? Poor crouching object to a thousand u^, Perhaps, beneath the chimney corner's wall, HeTears to breath, or scarcely breathes at all — His head upon his shoulders bent full low, To bear the insults heaped upon his brow, With many a long, long sigh to fear The storm, whose thund ring rumbles near. Still gathering black, and threatening rave, To sink his body lower than the grave. No soldier ever feired with greater dread A torching bombshell bursting o'er his head. The spirit of the man is fled away, And only but a shadow left that to obey ; Through weary life a most submissive tool — A silly donkey, saddled by a fool. Then cursed the silly man, who will not say, Who ever yields to vile ambitious woman's sway^! AMSaiCAN POB&IS. Ill NEVERMORE AND EVERMORE. e? II- JwayJ I When the day is meekly gleaming, And fond memory brightly beaming, 0, how glad I wake the dreaming Of the joys that now aro o'er I Happy joys ! their flight relented — Happy joys, when gone repented — Oft remembered, oft resented, For they '11 cheer me never more. Never bless me or caress me, For they '11 cheer me never more. • On the misty future wandering — On the past too often pondering. When my heart seemed all cemented To the happy days of yore — Clinging to me as unceasing. Though I 'm forced to keep releasing, While this bosom keeps repeating, They have fled for evermore. Wakes this beating, still repeating. They have fled for evermore. And the friends to me the nearest — Friends to me forever dearest, Have been by time's unceasing billows Cast upon an unknown shore, Far from this low vale of sorrow, H2 CANADIAN AMD Where 't is all a gilded morrow, But to balance wreaking Borrow — Hero to greet me nevermore. Here to meet me, here to greet me Never, never, nevermore! And the hopes that then were swelling O'er life's sunny, shrouded dwelling, Lighting up the future ever As their rays were gleaming o'er. Sorry was I to resign them — Vainly forced, forced to consign them- With the past, the past to join them. To return, ah ! nevermore. All benighted, ever blighted, And shall bloom, ah, nevermore ! And the loves that now arc faded, Or by dark misfortune shaded. Quenched or hidden, deeply hidden On ill fate's unbounded shore — Comfort could be, if mistaken, But despondency unshaken, Leaving me thus all forsaken, Comfortless for evermore. Grief unbounded, care surrounded — Here I '11 be for evermore. Though in nightful visions dreaming, Fancy often wakes the seeming. With the smile and ringlets streaming AMERIC/ T POEMS. Of a loved one — mine no more. Then my feelings feel caressed By that one who oft them blessed, And my bosom seems as pressed By her dearer than before ; But 't is dreaming : she shall sr^ming Press this bosom nevermore. 113 Yet 't is vain to keep repenting, Or forever keep relenting, l^'or the faithless broken loves That harrass this bosom sore, Now i; haggard, by -gone blessing — Load to misery ail distressing, Future prospects also lessing. And deludes them evermore. Prospects ending, grief extending To my sorrows evermore. Still this memory overturning, With a moj.- unceasing burning — Happy hours and happy scenes Of youthful love and lore. That long ere this have ceased their glowing O'er this heart with grief now flowing. Which with all its pensive throeing, Sighs to murmur nevermore. Turns relenting from its throbbing, And loathes to utter, nevermore. 114 CANADIAN AND Yet my heart, so oft mistaken, By its ponderings might awaken But for the sin of violating Time, for which I still deplore — Time, whoso all perpetual motion Sweeps along with sweet commotion, All our joy's deep in the ocean Of fate's abyss for evermore. From us soaring, though deploring, For 't is gone for evermore. Now, forsooth, I know its meaning Better than when youth was beaming, Or before, with all its blessings. Its sweet joys' had wafted o'er. Are they all now fled forever ? Swell this bosom will they ever ? Ah, this heart re-echoes never. Never, never, nevermore : Gone forever, returning never — Never, never, nevermore. a AS COLD A WIND AS EVER BLEW." [After Burns.] As cold a wind as ever blew — As cold a church as ever knew ; As cold a minister withal As ever preached beside a wall. AMERICAN POESfS. Ho sings, ho reads, and then he prays : His text speaks much of ancient days. Preaching to theru I thought he had. Or know I yet but what he did. One fumbles o'er his greasy cap ; His friend beside him takes n nap ; One cliews and Bpits upon the floor, Makes flood enough to ferry o'or. Close in the corner of u pew, One dreams of ease while in ii doze ; The spiders working all the while Soon weave a cob-web o'er his nose. Once, twice, thought I, 't is cold enough- My very bones began to crack. 0, that some fire would burn you up, Or warm your bones ere I come back. 116 NO MOKE, YE BIRDS WITH MERRY SONG. No more, ye birds with merry song, Can cheer my heart from ev'en to morn, Or raise my muse from this dull tune ; My . . . from my heart is torn, How sad and lonely was that day That muffled o'er the grassy lea — Even night, now dreary, brings no ray, Although it much resembles me. 116 CANADIAN AND How bright tho morning glimmered then — Serene arc all the living green — But ah ! how pale its waning sun, Sunk to tho west, mid clQuds at e'en, Foreshowing all our joys and loves. That round them then was gathering fast That angry cloud so soon to break, More easy seen when all was past. And memory's meteor, blending fast, Still strives to waken up a ray Of sorry past — 0, bitter past ! And I have seen its darkest day. Still ever, hero with marks bedecked, The impress of that broken vow Will show forever to be seen, Like time's pale furrows o'er my brow. Is there a heart whose throbbing beat Can on my sorrows pity take ? Or wear a warm congenial glow That mine whose beating can awake ? The spell is hard, it heaves the sigh — The sighs that force me to regret — And, worse than all, I find it hard For this lone bosom to forget. 0, to forget ! glad would it beam, But glimmer o'er me far away : This soul might hope to find relief, And not sink on life's faintest ray : St AMERICAN POEMS. Speak out my heart ! once more awake i Foreshadow what will cloud o'er me, But now while life's pale star is dim, Would smile for death to set it free. Yet 0, *t is^hard for mo to quench Its burning thoughts, its cruel throe, Which struggles hard mo to o'ercast : Alas ! I gcarco can stem the blow, And parted now our bosoms o'er — This bosom now so keenly sore ; Death, only death, can bring relief — 'T is but one pang — then all is o*er ! m ►-♦- BBOTHER, I 'LL REMEMBER THEE. Childhood's path wo roamed together, Side by side we wandered there, All its joys as well as sorrows, Thou with me did'st freely share. Hours of joy and scenes of danger — Scenes that's ever dear to me. With them wheresoe'er I wander, Brother, I '11 remember thee. Amid the old frequented bowers That now are leafless, bleak and bare. Oft I think of sunny hours, When we used to wander there. 118 CANADIAN AND Then trees put forth in grandeur, Though their boughs now blighted be, Yet my thoughts renew their verdure, Ever as I think of thee. Then we stole the opening flowers, From the busy honey bee , And oft mid summer's drippling showers We rambled round the maple tree ; Then we never dreamed of sorrow. But our hearts were light and free, Looking onward to the morrow, Happier moments then to see. And while I wander back with gladness Over life's eventful stream, Joy would mingle into sadness But for the hope of joys unseen ; And while the sun with heavenly splendor Sheds its kindly rays on me — Ever with the morning circle, Brother, I '11 remember thee, But when I think of days now vanished, When I see how swift they fled, Then I see that all is transient : Then I weep for joy that's dead. But should fortune's rolling billow Ever twixt us delve a sea — Yet upon my slumbering pillow, Brother, I '11 remember thee. AMERICAN POEMS. 119 Yet youth's scenes so oft remembered, Warm my heart where 'er I roam, All endearing with its fetters, Links that bind me to my home. While remorse so oft returning Makes those scenes to me so dear, As it says with thoughts so burning. Didst thou cherish them when here ? Yes, I'd cherish them most surely, Now my heart, relenting sighs : Hold them dearer and more nearer With that love that never dies ; And though grief my joys o'erturning, Should enclasp my heart once free : Yet while hope's mild lamp is burning, Brother, I '11 remember thee. But childhood's pleasures now are numbered, All its raptures now are o'er — Only still to be remembered With the gloomy days of yore. Yet while life's swift stream is streaming Onward to the boundless sea, Ever while my memory's beaming Brother, I '11 remember thee. 120 CANADIAN AND THE HAPPY DAY THAT ONCE WAS MINE. 'T ^Yas summer when the sun was warm, In every field the grass was green , Or waving hif^h the ripening grain, Lent more amusement to the scene, I wandered out alonff the green, And through the shady woodbine twine, To muse upon the pleasing scene, And happy days that once were mine. The day was mild as e'er was seen — All nature wore a pleasing hue, The lilies blushing by my side, Their fragrance on the breezes flew. The beaming sun from early dawn Had never ceased with joy to shine, Wh'le I with pleasure thought upon The happy day that once was mine. The robin chirping with his mate, Sat side by side upon the tree, Would oft their tales of love repeat, And seemed to say it all for me. Methought upon the happy day When youth and pleasure did combine ; When love shone in its brightest ray — 0, happy day that once was mine. • AMERICAN POEMS. 121 Sweet are the hours in siimraerVwfl^j When shadows cool arouad U3 gather, And sweet are fields in autumn mild, ' When ripening fruit brings balmy weather. For on such scenes I often muse, And to its joys my fancies climb, To take a glance onc3 and look back On happy scenes that once were mine. Carelessly which way I view What sights to me appear, Some spot endeared that tells of joys That once were squandered there. The winding stream still runs along Close by the towering pines. Where childhood's gladest hours were spent — The days that once were mine. The old oak tree close by the side Of yonder spreading verdant grove, While through its leaves the breezes glide. Or round its branching top to rove Like as the gentle breeze that bore (While I would by its trunk recline :) The youthful days of love and lore — 0, happy days that once were mine. But youth's bright moments soon are o'er. They vanish like a golden beam, Swift as the breeze hat breaks the morn, Or like a pleasing midnight dream, K i 122 CANADIAN AND Yet uaiiig thoughts of early scenes Will ever round my heart entwine, And oft arouse my muse to dreams Of happy days that once were mine. For how can I its joys forget ; Will they no more my path illumo ; Will youthful fond remembrance set To sink my mind in darkest gloom ? Hope's brightest flower 't is true may blight Loves earliest meteor may decline, But memory's star will ever light The happy days that once were mine ! ! THE GROVE. i The tall trees are gone with their foliage so green, And the place where they once were the stumps are now seen ; No shade now is left from the heat of the sun. Save the shades of the clouds as onward they run. The wild wind no more resounds through the trees ; No longer is heard the humming of bees ; No more the wild flowers grow over the way, Where oft I have played in the summer's warm ray. And memory with gladness look back to the hours When youth's little path seemed covered with flowers, And the place where happiness then seemed to reign, Revives in my sad heart a wish for the same. AMERICAN POEMS. 123 Still youth and its beauty if pleasure be their's I fear it is often mingled with cares, Even though as the forest it blooms for a day, Yet soon will it wither and vanish away. ON LEAVING SCHOOL. March 10th, 1860. The day is far spent, the night fast returning, And the swift driving snow with the tempest sweeps While sorrow and sadness my bosom is burning [o'er, When I think of the days that can meet me no more. Ye swift flying snow-flakes why force me to sigh. Or beat on my bosom which now is so sore ? Allow me to gaze with a sad pensive eye E'er I move from the place to return never more ! How oft have I strayed to that merry school room At the dawn of the morn in the mild month of May, And oft through the frosts of winter's dark gloom, Mid the snows of the storm and the tempest's wild spray. 'T was there with the lark at the dawn of the morning, His whistling lighted my heart by the way. And through the green wood when homeward returning His notes sweetly glided the late hours away. 124 CAN-.DIAN AND 0, joys of the school room how oft did 1 greet thee To mingle with those who have passed on before, But never again with such joy shall I greet thee — For its scenes shall enliven ray bosom no more. But the winter is past and the summer draws near, I haste with the spring along time's rolling shore, And hope in the future glad days yet to see, Though joys that are vanished can greet me no more. ODE TO GLANFORD. Glanford dear, my native spot, Land of the pine and maple glade. On earth I ask no better lot Than thy enamored forest shade. 1 bless the old secluded cot Where all my youthful days were played, Joys that can never be forgot Till memory in my being fade. And still I love to roam thy bowers, To linger near the crystal spring, And lone recall the happy hours, Of many a long since vanished spring. Again my happy soul takes wing, Whilst roaming through the hawthorn hear. To hear the merry warblers sing As blithe and gay as when of yore. ! ! AMERICAN POEMS. 125 lO more* Long may thy vales with verdure pour, Thy fields their rural harvest yield^ To crown the farmer's wooden store, And bless the laborer of the field. And long may heaven with peace revealed '* Bless them with peace and sweet content," And o'er their dwellings be a shield — A strong defence, a monument. Glanford dear, the sweetest place That centres in my bosom's core, From which no other clime can chase Its bygone scenes of love and lore. Still beautiful as when of yore, Long may thy honored hill remain, And never may these eyes deplore, Or see thy rising glories wane. Glanford dear, my home on earth — Home where loves blessings ne'er decay, The loves that waked my muses birth, That tuned my harp, that swelled my lay. may thy memory ne'er decay, Or cease to swell my minstrelsy. Till life and being melt away, And I on earth shall cease to to be. 126 CANADIAN AND STANZAS TO 0, blest be that unbroken tie That binds our hearts in friendship strong, The tender look, the fervent eye That watched o'er me thus kind so long. happy still may be that breast, Unknown to sorrow or decline, Whose constancy bids every test, Nor moved even by the wreck of mine. When all around grew cold and drear, And nature's fields refused to charm, Thy constant love dispelled my fear, And sweetly made my bosom warm. When friendship's star was waning low. And trusted ones forsook me here, Thy pity moved to see my woe, And o'er loves altar shed a tear. When all but sorrow did me shun, My latest hopes too overcast. Thou were the constant only one That shared my troubles to the last. When cold December's raging spray Would chill my breast like nature's plain, Thy warm fidelity like May Enlivened up my spring again. AMERICAN POEMS. 0, 't is to me a pleasing thought To fancy there's a friend for me, To know that I am not forgot, But dearly prized and loved by thee. Such is the constant love I trace In one sweet look and glance of thine That years will not its glow erase, Yet still it will be only mine. And such the joy that wraps my heart As oft I muse and think of thee ; To be with thee even where thou art, Earth is a paradise to me. 12T liSAW THAT CRYSTAL DROPPINO TEAR I saw that crystal dropping tear Come stealing down thy ruddy cheek, And then it told me how sincere That bosom was that could not speak. I saw that mild serenest look Turn fervently and on mo cast A feeling that I could not brook. For then I feared it was the last. I saw the sighs inflate that breast — That bust of marble fair as snow, That long has braved misfortune's blast. But now o'ercome by my own woe. li 1 128 CANADIAN AND I heard a sound come murmuring near, And never shall it be forgot, That meekly blended in my ear A blessing for my humble lot. « Ah, 't was a sound aflFection pressed, No longer did my heart repine, For then I knew there was a breast That i'lad would brave the storms with mine. And then I felt my spirit burn As if rekindled by thy love, And to its home of joy return With prospects bright as heaven above. Now fate has made us oft to part, And change hath measured space between, Yet still I feel it in my heart. Imparting comfort though unseen. For still that tear for me will flow ; That breast will heave where I am not ; That proof of love will end my woe. Though I am by the world forgot. STANZAS SPOKEN AT A DEBATE. WHICH IS THE HAPPIEST STATE OF LIFE, SINGLE OR MARRIED. Come tell no more of single life. Or comforts here without a wife. In peaceful happiness ; AMERICAN POEMS. 129 OJ Or squalling children hungry here, And old wive's curtain-lectures drear, Not found in singleness. For I remember on a day There was a lassie bright and gay, With charming features smiling Sat meekly down upon ray knee And whispered all her love to me, But wasn't that beguiling. The ruby cheek the bosom fair. The smiles like as an angels air, 'T was more than joy disarming ; My happy heart went pit-a-pat As closer to me still she sat — Ah, bless me, it was charming. And then the joy that wrapt my breast, It surely was unbounded blest, With hers to intermingle. The magic spark both went and came, Enough for love if that 's its game, I never can live single. Old bachelors may live alone To end their lives like a vile drone, And die by all forgotten ; Or sneak about in obscure night Far from the haunts of mortals sight. Till sense and reason rotten. 130 CANADIAN AND Give mo an armful of a wife To cheer me to my latest life, With love so sweet caressing. 1 In usefulness my time to employ, 1 For married life is only joy — 1 'T is Eden's choicest blessing. Nor would I give that hour of bliss For all that's in a world like this, Or bachelors could covet ; ] Their's is a harbinger of woe ; •\ Mine is a paradise below — : 1 There's naught I prize above it. STANZAS TO '^' '^^ * Alas, how oft does youthful friendship beam, And innocence with love bid fair to reign, Till blighting black misfortune unforseen Blasts all our joy and turn our prospects vain. Then life and love and dreams alike seem vain ; With hope we build new castles in the air, And fancy wings her flight to joy again. Till bitter crushed she ends in wild dispair. Ah, dear, remind ine not Of happy hours that once were mine, Though oft remembered ne'er forgot. Because they were enwove with thine. AMSBIOAN POEMS. 131 It is enough to see thy faoe To langaish o*er thy burning brow ; And years recall or loves retrace, All blighted fled, all withered now. When first thy love shone bright with mine, I little thought it thus would wane ; I little dreamed like this to find So strong a love to bloom in vain, And oft when lone reflections tried, Past recollections to awake, That fount of joy that now is dried — Even for thy love, even for thy sake. Ah, 't is a spell that long has tried The inmost centre of my heart ; And with thy name it hath returned The gnawings of a hidden smart, And could I but elude the spell, And live the life that now is o'er. I'd bid my woes a long farewell, And love again as when of yore. But 't is vain and foolish, short-lived as a dream, More simple to imagine joys the same, Or ever to hope some day them to redeem 'Tis even loves relenting dearest claim ; But could I be as cunning to the last. As I have been to fix and overthrow, I might survive the wreck of fortune past. And love again with thee, and wherefore no. I' i' 'ill I Hi:. II .' 132 CANADIAN AND Can I forget that raptured place ; " Can I forget the maple grove, When clasped within thy fond embrace ? My soul enclasped thy warmest love. How happy then our hearts did bSat, And from our lips invite the kiss, Till both in one would glowing meet — One minute seemed a year o' bliss ! And then thy glowing eyes would beam From out those lashes dark'ning hue, Beaming beneath thy brow serene, Wreathed o'er by roses dripping dew. The breeze faned joy from every glade ; The sun shone kindly from above, And Cupid might have left the shade For Eden saw no greater love. 0, that those moments could return With all their cherished soothing bliss, My bosom with its joy would burn, And shun a caring life like this. The robin then would chirp as gay ; The woodland thrush renew her song, And blended with our choicest lay, That now has been unsung so long. Have I a dream that is not dreamed ? Have I a wish that is not told ? Have I a claim that *s not redeemed ? Or skulking fortune yet untold ? AMERICAN POEMS. I'd give them for those happy hours, Strong wreathed with loves sincerity ; 0, could T dream those rapturous hours, I'd bless their short reality. Yes, give me back my vanished hours, Once mine, now gone forever fled Like faded plumes or withered flowers, More strongly loved when they are dead. Pale memory and declining years. May sink in grief my muses strain ; But hope will beam through future tears, And ever wish them back again. X33 ■■'%-■% STANZAS TO THE ONE THAT CAN BEST UNDERSTAND THEM. 'T is past, and my grief hath departed ; The last sigh that answers to pain Hath bound up the long broken hearted. And passion hath wiped out the stain. I have longed that I might be delivered ; I have strove the sad spell to subdue. From the thoughts %at mj lovo has been shivered By one that I deemed ever true. I have loved and its passion been heated ; I have pledged that I never could move ; But my faith and ray vows have been cheated, By a maiden, the mockery of love. ill if 'ii!! i;! ! ii ill!!! ill m 134 CANADIAN AND Had her vows whioh so often she plighted ; Had her love heen as fervent as mine, My Eden had never b«en blighted — I never had lived to repine. Like a swift running river untamed, My life has been wasting away, Still bent on a course unattained, To each fettering sand bar a prey. "Thy current kept recklessly moving, Till dashed on some rock-hidden cove, And I have been anguished for loving A maiden I should not have loved. My bosom hath been all commotion, Like the waves of a wild waving sea — Still breathing an ardent emotion, Its misery em planted by thee. Pursuing a phantom before me, A castle long built in the air, Till fate hath made m« deplore thee, And reason hath learned to despair. And thy charms, once so fair and disguising, I have worshiped yet not with disguise. And thy glance, once so sweetly apprising. Has ravished my heart and my eyes. Yet I crave not one past recollection. From the past loves memorial to crave. But joy that I witnessed detection — For unto thee I had still been a slave. ' riL AMERICAN POEMS. 135 That I never could thus have bereived thee, To my love as thou hast been a thief; Wherefore, then, were thou want to deceive me ? For deceit is the cause of my grief. Yet I curse thee not even in madness, Though a vent to my feelings might lend A glow to the pale eyes of sadness, And murmuring discomfiture mend. In the school of the past that has perished, This much I have learned for to see, That the ones that my bosom most cherished Were parted the soonest from me. And oft when my fancy would borrow A wild hope to meet them again, 'Twas only a refuge from sorrow, But left soon behind it a pain. From the thoughts of the past that deride me. There lurks but one thought that is sore, It may move but it never can chide me. Its fever is raging no more. And if in the future revealing It steeps from mine eyelids a tear. It will be a warning appealing, That I never may love one so dear. But the chain of our love that once bound me Is severed and parted from me ! So the hours that with joy may surround me^ Will find me both boundless and free, m 136 CANADIAN AND iji ii II iir: To roam where my heart finds a treasure, With those whose affections ne'er wane, And never with loves blank to measure, A false one that loves not again. * And joy hath nourished a blossom, The last hope that blooms over pain, And dispelled from my agonized bosom The thoughts that would grieve it again. In my bosom a joy still is springing, Though wild as the wild foaming sea, And a hope to my f^jney now singing, — There still is a lassie forme. THE DISAPPOINTED MAIDEN'S PETITION. * " Sigh my heart, but do not break. Though thoughts of one thy peace hath broken, Yet still beat my heart for memory's sake, Though seldom seen he 's soon forgotten." ?y^ ^f% 7j^ *^ ff* Go, but wheresoe'er thou goest ; Flee, but wheresoe'er thou flee ; Roam, but wheresoe'er thou roamest, Still my heart will follow thee. Have I not been thine forever ? Loving fond and thus proved true. Then how can I leave thee ever. Still my love will follow you. AMERICAN POEMS. No more I seek the closing day ; No more I seek the silent bowers ; Ah ! whither can my spirit stray To meet that love that once was ours. And thou hast broke the happy spell, The cords of love thyself hath severed, And thou hast sowed this sad farewdl, And every early prospect shivered. And worse tha j i u when unrevealing, Thou gavest my joys the blighting blow, x\nd chilled them colder by thy feeling, That sunk them into bitterest woe. Had there been a course sustaining, All that has between us been, Justice might its cause be claiming. If a cause you e'er had seen. And should thy heart but turn repenting^ And wish to be again by mine, Thy secret woes may be relenting, If they are kindred ought to m inc. But thy woes will not upbraid me, For tht; fault was not my own ; If I ever had betrayed thee I had not to sorrow grown. Every joy is past and vanished, • If the past I might redeem ; 13T i , i 138 CANADIAN AND Glad would I this anguish banish, And shun mj destiny and shame. And man may gaze into my face To read thy faults engraven there ; And in each farrow plainly trace The lurking miseries of despair. Had I not loved, not been slighted ; Had I not been born to pain, This sad heart that has been blighted, Might in future love again. Live but where there is a being, Where there is an eye to weep ; Think there is an eye bright seeing, To languid for a tear to steep. Other arms may now embrace thee ; Other loves thy friendship gain ; And 0, that they may ne'er menace thee With a love that loves in vain. Think when every breath thou brcathest, Of the sighs that heave a breast ; Of a heart for thee that bleedest, And fitful wish to be at rest. And where'er thy fee t are fleeing. May one thought my memory crave E'er I cease to be a being, And die to love and thee a slave. AMERICAN POEMS. 139 Yet I grieve for what I make thee ; Yet thy falsity I rue ; Though I never can forsake thee — Even my heart will follow you. I WONDEK. A GREAT CONFERENCE AMONG THE WOMEN. IMITATION OP " ORTHADOX-ORTHADOX. BURNS. I wonder, I wonder What makes Glanford thunder, As if 't was the firmament rending — 'Tis only a blast That has blown from the east, And blest woman's friendships are ending. Mother Faster, mother Faster, 'Tis a terrible disaster, And worse mischief yet will be brewing If we do not fight For our interest and right, She will oink us to irretrievable ruin. Little Bess, little Bess, You'll soon wipe up the mess. For to clean up your side is but fun ; If foolishness was sense You'd make good your defence, For grannies like you there are none. il I 1 I ; lii 140 CANADIAN AND Neighbor Tattler, neighbor Tattler, Your head is a rattler, — If you had your own way you would kill her, Your tongue is like the clapper That whips the mill hopper, — You'd deafen the ears of a miller. Grannie Black, Grannie Black, There 's a friend at your back, And a friend not much worse of the wear, You can set and you can hatch, For to make up a match ; And if you can't fight you can dare. Buggy Fan, Buggy Fan, You 've a heart like a man, And a temper most fit for to bleed her, With your . . . 'twixt the shoulder. That mUkes you look bolder — You will make a heroical b 'r. Modest Air, modest Air, You can speak pretty fair. And clothe yourself mild as a lark, But lay by the curtain. And there's one thing most certain, You'd frighten the owls in the dark. Peggy Bluster, Peggy Bluster, When the Diel makes a muster, And culls out the greatest backbiter, AMERICAN POEMS. 141 You'll be first in the van Of the miserable clan, For to hold to his legions the tighter. Betty Rover, Betty Rover, You'r always all over, And left you dear behind you. His heart is most broken, And his eye lids are soaken : He is seeking in vain for to find you. Little Snarl, little Snarl, You can glory in a quarrel, For you wigged your poor husband severely. For you can blow him, 't is true, But there's pity for you, For old Satan will get you most surely. Ringleader Grannie Alder, Pile on to her shoulder, And if there 's no cushion or saddle, Your modesty is scant. Even thirty per cent. You may venture to go it astraddle. One and all, one and all, End the spree with a ball, . And pronounce her a sinful backbiter ; But if each in a bag Were weighed, sins, hoop and rag, 'T would be hard to tell which was the lighter. J lit! I ..,, 142 CANADIAN ANU But the time draws near When the kitchen must clear, For the sun's setting rays are now blended, So each veteran dame Took the way that she came, And so the long conference ended. A L E T T E R WRITTEN WHILE AT SCHOOL, IOtH MARCH, 1861. Dear Brother, for the second time I write to you a letter; I write it in 4ny merry rhyme, Because it suits me better ; And if I fall below my dime, In trying to compose it, I '11 close my verse with merry rhyme^ Then try at least ♦^^o prose it. And well I think you may excuse The blunders of my letter. For midst the prate of noisy school, Contention, noise and clatter, Sometimes I wrote, sometimes I thought. Sometimes I could do neither ; But when my muse came on a-pace^ I scribbled down my blether. AMIRIOAN POEMS. 143 jnded, 1861. To keep in oonsort with the school, And friendship with my neighbor, I find it not an easy task. Or very pleasant labor. But for the girls you may believe Their cheerful— ever smiling. With modest air and ringlets fair, Are always most beguiling, And with their winning pleasant smiles Light up their rosy faces, I've found myself at last beguiled In their most charming graces. But when I think once, and reflect How oft they 've tricked their lovers, I well believe and well expect, They '11 fool me in the future. Well, that may b*^ as one may say, Or for a frail bo]ievc-r, I will not be the first to say That woman's a deceiver ; But here I '11 stop as well I may Give up my crazy ramble, And let them play from day to day, And frolic, frisk and gambol. Whilst midst them all I work along. Through clear and stormy weather. With little gain and often loss, Consuming time and leather. if^.i 144 CANADIAN AND ' And to conclude, I must confess My thoughts of you are dearer Than when beneath the cottage roof, Our birtlis were ever nearer. For the same chords of love that then Seemed brittle and more lighter, Still round my heart more strong entwines, And distance draws them tighter. So when you read these artless rhymes. Sung by a brother fervent, You rest assured that I remain, Your most obedient servant Mr. J. F. Smith. iiji in.,.;.' I; MODEL SCHOOL. SPOKEN BY A YOUNG LADY. How dear to my heart are the days now o'er, The days of my childhood's brightest lore ; As memory awakens its scenes anew, And paints all its charms to my fancy's view. The sports and amusements of early hours. At the old play ground and the wildwood bowers ; Each scene of enjoyment, each task and rule, That I learned in the past at the Model School. Ah ! many a time have I glided along With a happy heart, with a merry throng, At the early morn in the month of May, Eli'iJl: AMBRIOAN POEMS. i45 Where the fields were blooming fresh andjgay, And plucked, the flowers as I onwavd run, ,, And placed them in boquets one by one ; For we always deemed it our choicest rule, To gather a bunch for the Model School. But now as I haste to the school away, The path is naked, cold and grey ; ■ ol? The forest is bare, its foliage fie^, '■'' '>Ii^»l oVf The fields and vales look as if dead, nnod 3A And the merry birds have left them 1 >ng | ^J^'' While almost forgot is their ditty and sotog^, ' ' And frozen o'er is the crystal pool, .lUi.u;.^'"- That I cross on my way to the Model School. And thus is it ever with what we love, '^^ Time steals them all from us and hastes them to move: The dearest and brightest are first to go, Though cherished and coveted here below j Yet I love to think of the happy liours When I gathered so glad the wildwood flowers ; And long I '11 remember each task and rule, That I learned when a girl at the Model School. v/ II: t.i ;!n .u\ 146 CANADIAN AND I \ I I ' ( SCHOOL COMPOSITIONS. THE DAYS TH/T NEVER CAN RETURN. How soon the days of youth pass by ! We little ihink how swift they fly ; At home, at school, at work or play, They never pass, but glide away ; "We every hour and ipoment. learn — e,gonOnce t^cjy !iv;\er can return. When we reflect oncr and look back Upon our youth'ia unaaven track, Our hearts will burn with keen desires, For all the past so soon expires ; When many were the happy ways Of early youth's unclouded days. Its pleasing thoughts at once excites Remembrance of school day delights ; When by some shady woodland bowers, Was spent the mild-like summer hours ; But they wel:e days we always learn That never, never can return. Oft does memory quickly bring The scenes of many a vanished spring. The past amusements, sports and plays, I ■' ' AMERICAN POEMS. That crowned the sweetly passing days ; But they are with the days of yore, And shall return, ah ! never more. The flowery days of youth soon pass, Like morning dews upon the grass, Retain their place upon the mind, And always leave a trace behind — Though often we regret and mourn, Because they never can return. 147 HOME. Home is the dearest of all earthly treasures, Where the years of my childhood were joyous and free; Where scenes of amusements were mingled with pleasures, No mansion on earth could be dearer to me. And dear to my heart is each scene that surrounds it — The garden whose bushes and trees I have dressed. The rough picket fence that stands all around it, And the tall maple tree with the little bird's nest. Where the birds in summer sing through the wildwood, And the squirrel mounts the pine in the warm sunny How often I think of the days of my childhood, frfty* When I was as blythe and as happy as they. Where the swift-running rivulet winds throu gh the valley Washing the elm roots on in its pride, \ li. . 1 ik 14S CANADIAN AND Where the green tlcnder rush grows up by the lily, That waves in the zephyrs, that lave. o'er its tide. ■ t r ■ ^ ,■ The orchard that stands on the hill, once adorning The hours of amusement that 's vanished awfiy, Shall shine in my memory bright as the morning, And brighten my pathway to life's latest day. G L A N F R D . SPOKEN IN THE MODEL SCHOOL. Brightest and fairest, land of the brave — Land of my fathers, noblest and dearest ; - r Though wars and commotions around it may rave/ Still to my bosom it shall be the nearest ; Even though from it afar I may roam, Still 'tis a spot I will cherish as home — Home of the happy, land of the free, • ' ,^i^anford, nvy birthplace, Glanford for me. If you go £6 the south, to that warm sunny main, Where summers long bloom o'er its garden of roses ; ^ Or away, far away to the western plain, C^Where fields, as the sea, to' your vision discloses : The one 's like a desert, where hurricanes rave, ' The other, a home for the tyrant and slave ; ' !Rut land of the happy, home of the free, • > l VY * Glanford, the brightest, Glanford fpr me. , ■n. ^oll nr AMERICAN POEMS. I4tf If you go to the east, cross the Atlantic's wide foam, To Europe's rich thrones of dazzling splendor, v^*"-^'* And seek there for happiness, friends, or a home, ' hc^l Where the wealth of the noble doth paupery engender ; 'T is there the aristocrats haughtily reign, Even there does the despot fasten his chain — But foremost in liberty, home of the free, Glanford, the brightest, Glanford for me. ITI'I Then go where the cane and the pine-applo grow, '^^'^-- ' To the Indies, whose shores are the gems of the oc6an, You will find among its sweets oppression and woe, — Even slavery is there in its bitterest emotion ; And see the plantation, in that Heaven-blest land I ., The overseer stands with his whip and his brand ; But home of the happy, land of the free, Glanford, the fairest, Glanford for me. 4"i f '> hnf,.l ji-\ Here grows the pine in its lone forest-pride, Casting a shade that the sun neiver lighted ; Here grows the maple, the storms to" outride, And the rich verdant fields that war never bKglited ; Long as the robin chirrips in the thorn; Long as the lark breaks the stilj of the morn, Still may it last as the home of the free, Glanford, the brightest, Glanford for me. And long may her youth with untiring aim, Press on to yirtue, wisdom and learning, ' ' And build for her forests in history a name, '* < *'^'^ - ' With bosoms, as one, still for liberty burning f""' '^-'^ 150 CANADIAN AND Then shall no foe, or oppression's rude band, Bavish her shores or polutc her f!«)ir land ; Land of the happy, home of the fvf^e, Glanford, the brightest, Glanford lor me. 0, this be our motto for one and for all, United in hand, like the ivy entwining, To stan^ by our country though nations may fall ; While the sun in the skies o'er our dwellings is shining, Then will our harvests, our orchards and bowers, Dance to the zepbyra at even's sweet hours, "With songs of the happy, in the home of the free, Glanford, the fairest, Glanford for me. Brightest and fairest, land of the brave, — K Land still the dearest to me, forever ; Though wars and commotion around it may rave, Still from my bosom no power can it sever : And long may her banner in majesty wave — Ne'er may it shelter a tyrant or slave — Land of the happy, home of the free, Glanford forever, Glanford for me ! ! i A NEGRO AUCTION. FOR A SCHOOL EXHIBITION. Auctioneer-— Bystanders and Bidders. Auc. — Gentlemen, here is before you a splendid field hand; if you want to get rich, here is the place to come • for here's where you'd get the worth of your money. Who AMERICAN POEMS. 151 bids? first-rate field hand, good natured, nary bad about him ; who bids ? 1st Bys, — How old is he ? Auc- — Eighteen. Ist Bys. — I don't believe it ! Auc. — Look here, Sir, if you don't believe it, look at Ms teeth; (shows him his teeth.) Come, gentlemen, who bids — first, rate field hand. Is* Bys, — One hundred dollars. Auc. — One hundred dollars — one hundred dollars — going at one hundred dollars— why gentlemen, that's not one ^^uarter what hft ih worth ! 2nd Bys. — Where was he brought up ? Auc. — Gentlemen, he was born in South Carolina ; he is a thorough-bred black, a real South-down — who bids ? Going at one hundred dollars — only one hundred dollars. Come buy young Sambo, and have riches. Come, you can have him, boots and breeches. A first-rate hand to set at mowing, Good at corn and cotton hoeing, Splendid hand to set at ditching, Light the fire, tend the kitchen ; Best of hands in all creation, Good at working on plantation : Come, Gentlemen, who bids ? 2nd Bys. — Two hundred dollars. Two hundred dollars — two hundred dollars — going at two hundred dollars — why, gentlemen, he'd earn that in a short time. 152 CANADIAN AND 3rd Bjj. — Perhaps he '11 not live long. Auc. — Well, I'd as soon take his chance as yours, if you don't get that blossom off your nose. Two hundred dollars — come, gentlemen, only two hundred dollars for a splendid jam-up field hand. Two hundred dollars — why, gentlemen, it 's a disgrace to this part of the world to let such a splendid darkey go at that price ! Come bid up a little higher, Speak right out and don't hang fire ; Lots of fun and lots of whisky. Plenty of money down in Dixie. Ath Bij. — Is he smart? Auc. — Smart ! yes ; just look here, if you don't believe he is smart, (makes him hop round the room,) beat that any where in America if you can. Why, a sight like that ought to make you bid three hundred dollars, without any more ceremony. Come, gentlemen, who bids — two hundred dollars — going at two hundred dollars ^rd B. — Two hundred and fifty dollars. Aug. — Two hundred and fifty dollars — two hundred and fifty dollars only — is this all — only two hundred and fifty dollars for that splendid field hand. He 's none of your wind-galled, spavined, or rheumatic things — who bids ? Two hundred and fifty dollars, only ! 4^A ^.— Three hundred dollars. Auc. — Three hundred dollars— three hundred dollars —going at three hundred dolLrs; come, gentlemen, bid some more. 1 ; AMERICAN POEMS. 153 Open your hearts a little bigger, Any give four hundred for that nigger ; Look here, Sir, if you don't do it. Depend upon it you will rue it ; How fine 't would look to see at morn Young Sambo out a hoeing corn. Now, Sir, you had better take him, Or else you'll have to go without him. Come, gentlemen, who bids — three hundred dollara — going at three hundred dollars. Here 's the place to bring your money, And buy a nigger, fat and funny; So now then mind what you're doing, Three hundred dollars — going, going. ^th By. — " 'T aint — every man can be a poet, No mor'n a sheep can be a goat." Auc. — Three hundred dollars — three hundred dollar<^ — going at three hundred dollars — oi>ly three hundred dollars for that splendid eighteen year old field hand \ why Sambo is one of the best darkies in South Car- olina. Who bids three hundred — only three hundred dollars. ^th B, — Three hundred and fifty dollars. Auc, — Three hundred and fifty — going, going, at three hundred and fifty. Ts this all you're going to bid ? Only three hundred and fifty dollars ! Good temper is his leading feature, All right and sound as any creature ; ■ 4 :< -i i N 154 CANADIAN AND Look at his black and shining color, Shows he is a fine young feller ; His eyes they are so very bright They shine like a candle in the night, He '11 turn aa quick as any eel, Hound on his long black shining heel. Now for another bid — going at three liundred and fifty dollars ; three hundred and fifty dollars ; three hundred aid fifty dollars only; going, going, going. Come, gentlemen, don't stop at this ; only three hundred and fifty dollars; come gentlemen, one more bid — ^who bids, who bids, who bids — first-rate field hand, who bids; three hundred dollars ; only three hundred dollars ; who bids ; who bids ? Gth B. — Four hundred dollars ! Auc. — Four hundred dollars ; four hundred dollars ; going at four hundred dollars ; who bids, who bids ; going, going ; who bids ; going, going, gone I (Knocks him down with the hammer.) 6^A By. — There youVe killed Sambo. Auc. — No difference any how, he's only a nigger. '' Young Sambo's dead and there he lies, Nobody laughs, and nobody cries ; Where he 's gone and how he fares, Nobody knows and nobody cares." JosL Smith. AMEBIOAN POEMS. 155 EPITAPHS. ON AN OLD BACHELOR. Here rests whom love did ne'er pursue— "Whose breast its passions never knew, Or ever felt its charms. Who never slept in Cupid's bower — Who never felt his mighty power, Or knew his good or harm. He sleeps, secure from all tlie fear Of being tricked by woman here- That thorn in human bliss. Who knew not true love's happy light, Or false love's all bewitherini? hVishi, That girds a world like this. He sleeps alone, and never knew What quarreling couples often do — That curse of mortal woe. Who from this earth ne'er wishe 1 to be, Or sought for death to be set free From such a hell below. ON ANOTHEll. Here sleeps a Bachelor, poor old man. He died just like all of his clan — ! P. 166 ;! 1 if: J I' CANADIAN AND The meanest beast surpasses. Because he never took a wife, And saved some old maid's caring life, Or hugged the skittish lassies. ON ANOTHER. cold, cold, cold is now tue breast That here has taken up its rest, As if 't were scarcely human; For when on earth it was a blight, Because it never shared the light Of life's best blessing — woman. And now man, of mortal birth, Whene'er you view this mound of earth, Let one lone thought remind you, And never end on earth a life, Without the comforts of a wife. Or leave such bliss behind you. KILLED BY LOVE. Low beside this marble beam, Sleeps the subject of my theme, Down beneath the gr&ssy cover, Once an ardent woman lover ; Pierced by the force of woman's charms. He cast himself into her arms, IL. AMERICAN POEMS. I5t And on her bosom soft and fair ; ^^ Love was too much for him to bear. Fron, Capid's bow the arrow flew^ >" And pierced his vitals through and through^ And now the subject of my theme, He vanished like a golden dream . Ik"!'.? HERE SLEEPS AN ATtbRNEVi A Here sleeps an attorney, just like all his clan, He '11 cheat you, old Nick, I warn you, if he can ; Hesold the poor man's cause, and robbed the rich on earth, .,iji/. And justly earned himself, in h — 1, your hottest berth. TWO KNAVES. Here, low in the valley, snug side by side. From the face of all mortals how gladly we hide ; Poor miserable wretches, the clay we embrace. But ne'er can it hide our lasting disgrace. ON A PRIEST. Look here, kind friend, a Papal Priest Has taken up his lonely rest — The loathsome worms disdain to feabi^ Upon his foul, poluted, breast. :<.! 11 ■•I; I i 1, 158 CANADIAN AND Deep in the lowest depth of all, 'T is said the Papal monster fell, Bectiuse) for gold, he bought and sold The massive gates of heaven and h — 1. ON AN IRISHMAM BURIED WITH HIS S H I L L A L A H . Come sons of Erin, here I am, I'm sleeping snug and gaily, 1 Without a comrade or a kin. But my sprig of shillalah, ! The loathsome worm come creeping near, And peep into my coffin, ! But with my friend they keep quite clear, For fear they'd get a schalpen, ! BENEATH THIS MOUND. Beneath this mound all snug and sound Lies stupid sleeping Jonny, ! The mole and mot loook at him rot, But fear to bite the sonny, ! AMERICAN POEMS. 15d ON MISS Miss has sure to Canaan gone, Or else she has gone farther, Our eyes are red from tears we shed, Because she went not sooner. And if, alas, she 's farther gone, — Which would be little wonder — I guess old Nick will have his match, If he can keep her under. iU. 160 CANADIAN AND SONGS AND BALLADS. There is in every breast a soul, And in that soul a quenchless fire, "Wherein a passion always burns, That 's fanned by every moving lyre ; And when its cords vibrate in song, The centre of the soul to move, To hold enchanted all its glow, Its happiest strain would breathe out love, AMERICAN POEMS. 161 mi THE LOFTIEST BLESSING IS LOVE. We mourn with a tear as our joys disappear, And sigh for amusements to prove, Though often relent, when once they are spent, But the soul's lasting blessing is love. . , j 'T is comfort alone that can but atone For the mind that for pleasure has strove ; And friendship may smile, our cares to beguile — • But the heart's sweetest comfort is love. Ambition may blow to enliven our woe, And haste us our sorrows to move, The fancies may smile o'er a magical pile — But the loftiest blessing is love. Fond maid of my heart, though from her I part, When to meet her I eagerly strove ; All my pains were repaid when enclasping my maid, For the happiest blessing was love. When to greet the fair Miss we meet with a kiss — The world may for this me reprove, But still I will seek the bloom on her cheek, Enthroned on the summit of love. heart's cheering ray, imperishable May, Mv life's cold Decembers soon move, When this bosom is pressed by the one it hath Enclasped in the fetters of love. [blessed— mi i ■ -pw 'mm m'f- 1 1'j t M m: M\l' I 1 I i 'iiii J! li 1C2 CANADIAN AND Fond magic so dear, how I'd welcome it here, Then the world with its wealth might remove ; Though fame should expire; yet my heart's latest Will kindle those emblems of love. [fire, May no pompous show of the world's guilded woe Ever from me this motto remove, Or shorten my dream of this glorious theme — For the best of all blessings is love. A COUNTRY BARD IS MY DEGREE. A country bard is my degree — Although there are so many, 0, That waste their time in endless rhyme. While all I sing 's my Annie, ; No higher aim have I to claim, No title for a dandy, ; But all the greatness I aspire Is but to sing my Annie, 0. Chorus. — My Annie, 0, my Annie, 0, Let others sing forever, 0, The greatest aim have I to claim, Is but to sing my Annie, 0. My muse she found me in the wild, A white-head in a shanty, 0, Scarce large enough to climb a pole, Or court a smile from Annie, ; AMERICAN POEMS. 163 here, emove ; ;'s latest [fire, ilded woe jme — aEE. lyme. And when like sunbeams overhead, She throws her mantle on me, 0, My slumbering harp awakes its lay. And sings a song for Annie, 0. Chorus. — My Annie, &c. The rich may hug their bags of gold, The poor man hug his penny, 0, And to them lace, with fond embrace, While I enclasp my Annie, 0. No other's charms will I pursue, Or wish their smiles to scan me, ; I '11 never care what is my fare, As lang's I have my Annie, 0. Ceiorus. — My Annie 0, my Annie, 0, Though all the world should scan me, 0, I '11 shun the while their empty smile, And sing my song for Annie 0. aim, HOW CAN YOU BREAK? How can you break my captured heart, Which used to beat so free. That's spotless still, without a crime, Unless it 's loving thee ? How can you force me by that look, On love like thine to If^nguish ? How can you force without regard, This silent burning anguish ? pi fi" • i64 CANADIAN AND How can you turn my idle schemed, As 't were by fairio fingers ? How can you fan that spark of \6v2, Which in my bosom linjers ? Then maiden smile no more on me, As if I were thy treasure, — Before my feelings grow too strong. And life is lost by plousviro ! 1 ' FAIREST MATl) 0' GLANFOKDVS MANY. i f' Fairest muid o' Glanford's many, Once alas, to me so true, Wilt thou hide that frown, dear xVnnie, And smih as once you used to do '? If you knew how well I love you, Naught have I on earth above thee ; Then thy heart would cling unto me, * ' Still the truesi: unto you. »'^ Chorus. — Fairest maid, &c. ' * Thinkest thou that I e'er could sever That sweet smile of thine forever— ^^ Which T^enr this heart must linger ever — That signs to think it was untrue. ^^ Chorus. — Fairest maid, &c. '^ 'iii ''■ AMERICAN POEMS'. When thy vows, so often plighted ; When this hrcast thy love hath lighted ; When this heart is lone and blighted, Think how great will be my pain. Chorus. — Fairest maid, &c. Think of grief my joy o'erthrowing. All but misery foregoing, Think of all this soul's keen throeing, , When it sees it loved in vain ! :,^