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KIMBALL, In the Clerk's Office of the District Court fop the Northern Dietrict of New York. I INSCRIBE THIS VOLUME TO MY FRIEND, WILLIAM J. GEARON, AS A MARK OF RESPECT FOR HIS VIRTUES AND LOVE OF LITERATURE. S* C* K* o o o o o o ] sti] po< wil rat mo wri coi the C0£ tas] rea ha^ Usl erri onl «tt TO THE READER. It may seem an audacious and unwise step, for one stai in his teens, to present to the public a volume of poems written impromptu and sent to the press almost without a correction. I confess to have not very delibe- rately considered the result of the affair. But little more than a month ago, I first conceived the idea of writing enough, with the few poems which 1 had before composed, to make a small book. Ten minutes decided the plan, and one month has executed the work. The cogent reasons which induced me to undertake such a task, I think are sufficient, though not of interest to the reader. I would have been pleased if some scholar could have examined the pieces before they had been pub- lished, but my humble circumstances prevented it. If errors should be found, as doubtless some will, I can only beg the reader to pass over them as lightly as pos- '■% -wmw I J •ip"iiii II 1 r^'^^m^ftf ! !■ VI To the Reader. fiible, consideriDg that they were committed by a boy, the greater part of whose life has been spent in manual labor. If no merit shall appear in the poems, please let the book die quietly ; but if it should afford either profit or pleasure to the reader, it will not be in vain that I have written. SULLIVAN C. KIMBALL. Albany, February 1st, 1858. t ^f I, \- by a boy, n manual please let her profit lin that I :ball. CONTENTS. An Indian Story, 1 To the Hudson, 6 The Slave, 8 John Stark, 12 New Year, 16 Our Country's Change, 17 Winter, 19 Think of the Poor, 20 Battle of Thermopylae, 21 The Crow, 24 Sunset, 26 The Trio's Advice, 27 Spring, 32 Iceland, 33 Nature, 36 The Laborer, 37 A Summer Morning, 38 Fourth of July, 39 A Home, 40 Lines Written to a City Friend, 41 A Friend, 43 A Rolling Stone Gathers no Moss, 44 Old Year, (1857.) :... 45 To the Contoocook, 4$ The Temperance Cause, 49 Autumn, 68 VUl Contents. 1 1 ; : if n n The Contest, 69 Departure of an Indian Tribe Westward 62 Saint Patrick, 64 Do as I do and you are safe, 82 One's Native Land, ^^ A Winter Morning, 86 The Serpent, « . 87 Northern Liglits, 88 Sunrise, 89 Our Faults, . , .' 90 John Cummings, 94 Hope, 98 A Husking 99 »* Removal of the French from Acadia, l^^ Surrender of William Walker, l^^ Gold, 109 Amusements, llO Animals in Winter, 116 Night, 118 A Hymn, 120 Defeat of Moab, 121 Lines Written on the Death of a Child, 123 Psalm of David, 124 Lines Written on the Death of a Friend, ,^ 126 A Prayer 127 A Song of Praise, 128 Nathan Reproveth David, 129 Lines Written on the Death of Henry Clay, 131 59 62 64 82 84 86 87 88 89 90 94 98 99 100 105 109 HO 116 118 120 121 123 124 126 127 128 129 131 POEMS- I AN INDIAN STORY. CANOCH. Father, methinks strange dreams now fill thy mind, Of days, when thou in prime of life didst chase, The bounding roe through flowering vale and mead. Or when the deadly strife raged fierce and hot, When valiant warriors slew, and then were slain. Else why unconscious clench thine aged hand? Or makft those undimm'd eyes so brightly flash? And aged sire, how came thine ankles scarr'd ? Those deep drawn circles round thy comely wrists ? While yet thy memory fails thee not, nor speech, Tell me these things, so strange and yet untold, Whether by nature wrought or otherwise. LOUKTAN. My son, thou art a man of many years. And snow white locks already do appear, Upon thy head, once clad as black as jet, Yet these same furrowed rings, you see, were made Long ere thy father had begotten thee ; When not a spire in yonder valley rose. Where now a score are pointing up to God. 1 An Indian Story. • } IN ! i k l[ Ah! then these hills were clothed with countlesi flocks, These valleys covered now with verdant corn, Were but the sylvan haunts of fox and deer, That fearless dwelt among the forest pines. Then birds and beasts that God had made for food, Throng'd every hill and every woody vale, While fishes filPd each river, brook and pond, Whose names the hunter now not even knows. White men at first were very, very few. And begg'd a narrow piece of land to till. To save their wives and little ones from death ; Nor had the red men learn'd to drive away The hungry beggar from his cabin door; So he those strangers bid remain in peace, For then there were good lands enough for both. But soon the white men grew and multiplied, And built strong forts of wood and granite stone, The like had Indians never seen before. The use of which they could not even guess. Yet now they know, and they too late have learn'd, That white men say but mean another thing. Long, long ago, when I was but a boy. The white men call'd a mttster, as they said. When all the youths assembled on a plain. To fight in sport with cannons and with guns. With which they made a roaring noise and smoke, But neither hit nor hurt each other, they. The red men also came to view the scene. Or if they pleased to join the sportive throng. I with m^ gun and well fill'd powder-horn. Along with twenty score of forest braves. Did go, with pale-faced youths indeed to learn. To fire the musket and with speed to load, So that in hunting Vd be more expert, ^n Indian Story. 3 1 counties! ; corn, eer, les. de for food le, pond, knows. II, i death; ur captors might for us see fit to give. '^e were commanded to be sold as slaves, 'o serve strange masters in a foreign land. ^hen we were put in iron fetters strong, md manacles our wrists did closely join. ^hus then, my son, these circles deep were made, Lround my wrists when I was caWd a slave ; 'or never did that nervous arm perform, 'he base and servile tasks of slavery. Tot weight of chains, nor dungeon's gloom, 'an make a man a brute and slave become. will not tell thee what I suffered, when ieneath the tropic sun of foreign climes, long'd again to see my nativeland. Lcross the boundless water, I had seen, hundred moons increase and wane, before I heard a kind and friendly word, from one who wish'd to set a bondman free. .An Indian Story. ill \ !? 'i hi! ; ^ But when my keeper askM and learnM the way, That I by fraud and treachery was sold, He said that I, in peace again, should see, The land where I in infancy had playM. The next East wind that fill'd a spreading sail, Did drive the ship in which I was returned, To this my ever lovely father-land, Where since in quiet I have happy dwelt. CANOCH. But father, what became of all the rest. Who like yourself by treaclrery were sold, To toil for foreign lord against their will, In vineyards or in mines beneath the ground ? And what of him who by foul stratagem, Perform'd a deed so base and dastardly. Against allies, who were at perfect peace. With him indeed as well as all mankind ? «l 1, sa fiei elW ppo hen »vo 1 rice ■; » ii LOtTKTAN. Ah ! very coldly tiows my chilling blood. As to my mind you call those sad events ; For many years have silent pass'd away, Since I have told or heard these gloomy tales. Those captives all, who like myself were sold, Spent many dismal nights and tedious days. With fetters and with manacles weight down^ Or in the stocks of loathsome prisons bound. Yet after years of cruel slavery. In which they suiferM brands and servile siripes. And every torture, which a fiend invents, To make the sinews of a manly arm, Return a lucre that can gratify, The selfish passions of a vile poltroon, An Indian Story. 5 the way, 56, ng sail, •n'd, Bit. [Id, II, ound ? n, ce, id? ts; h y tales, re sold, days d down, ound. le stripes. ts, yi, save a few who were by cruelties fierce oppression slain, returned home, e Major, who had sold the Indian youths, pposed they all were slaves in distant lands; hen on a certain dark and cloudy night o lonely squaws rapp*d at the Major's door, ice seven years had come and gone again, noe he had call'd the muster of the youths, hich turn'd to him for glory, but to them, source of passing grief, and woe untold; e Major rose and ope'd the grating door, hich massive swung between the walls of stone, d bade the squaws to enter in his house, warm themselves and tell the news they'd brought im from his forest brothers ever true, hey told him all was well, and ask'd him what, full five hundred Indians came that night, n aged man like him could do alone? e not afraid," the boasting Major said, **|The wavg of that right arm shall bring to hand, 4 hundred men as brave as breathe the air, flpo let your sleep be calm and sound to-night." ■fhen all retired as they were wont to do, ^ nd soon deep sleep enshrouds them all save two, he squaws indeed, who silently arose, hen with a noiseless hand unbarr'd the door, nd gave a whistle shrill and full well known, b those who waited for the appointed hour, b take the Major and his garrison, rush the very band of warriors, who, t muster train'd just fourteen years before; hey seize the Major now infirm'd with years, nd on the parlor table place him, while, is hoarded gold is scatter'd on the floor, Ui. 6 The Hudson, '<\\ • liiii ii c;E; To be the prize of him, who first could pick The shining dollars as they roll around. When they the spoils had divided thus, They ask'd the Major if he knew the day, When they together all, had met to train, And then each one, across the old man's flesh. Drew twice his knife and passing as he said: '* Thus my accounts I now cross out with thee.'^ TO THE HUDSON. Come tell to me, thou wand'rer, Thou symbol so sublime. Of men and nations passing, Of swiftly flying time. How long hast thou been rolling Thine amber tides along? The prattling child, the old man United ask — How long'} Dost thou well remember when Thy grassy banks were green, Erst thou the towering oak. Or lofty pine had seen ? And canst thou now remember, The painted chieftain, who First paddled o''er thy bosom The birchen bark canoe ? The Hudson. \ pick I* in, 's flesh, said: ith thee.'* If thou wilt tell us these things, And light our darken'd mind, Our highest admiration Thou shah forever find* Ah ! stranger, thou dost ask me What heaven hath conceaPd, What thy fathers tell thee not, And books have not reveal'd. I would I were permitted To tell thee what was seen, When first I laved the dry ground The new made fields between. When the primeval forests First sprung up by degrees. And when the feather'd songsters First dwelt among the trees. Long ere the dauntless Hudson Gave me his honor'd name, By which, to distant ages, He'll hand his spotless fame. A truth I tell thee stranger. That God, who bid me flow. Hast told thee by tradition All that 'tis right to know. 1 ■.''f 8 The Slave. THE SLAVE. A throng of men, assembled, scan The crowded market way, No work is done in New Orleans, An auction's there to-day. A ship of Africans has come. The sale begins at one. Which is to cheer or grieve the heart Of many a sable son. Among the crowd of slaves that stand The auction block around, A Chieftain's there of royal blood Now gazing on the ground ; His noble look and kingly air Attract the viewer's eye. While each resolves, perchance he can, The princely slave to buy. i ! (•' h!I Si ■ L A merchant comes among the crowd. In wealth without a peer, Who often buys without regard To prices cheap or dear ; The conquer'd Chieftain mounts the stand, Bid after bid they gave. Until the surly salesman said, " He is the merchant's slave." The Slave. 9 The merchant gazed upon the Chief And ask'd him whence he came, And what might be his parentage, Also his father's name. For in his face he thought he saw r A look he'd seen before, He knew not on what distant isle. Or on what foreign shore. The Prince replied : " Thou art my lord, I am a Christian's slave. My father reigns in Barbary, ' His faithful clan and brave ; The name of Lion King he bears, A terror to his foe, A true and faithful friend is he, As all his allies know. " Once when the winds blew fierce and rou^h, Across the sea and moor, A merchantman was broken up Just off Sahara's shore; The crew escaped a watery grave By swimming to the land. To die of thirst and hunger there, Upon the desert sand. " My father with his trusty band Of mounted warriors brave, Who fear'd not men of mortal race Nor terrors of the grave. By chance did meet these wandererf Oppress'd by hunger sore. Not having tasted food or drink For full eight days and more. , \ r i , -1 f J 1 1 1 i i ■■ *■'■ : i J I iii, 10 The Slave, *^ He told those friendless, starving men His bread they all should share, And for their life and happiness a His faithful band would care, TTntil a ship should chance to come Along that desert strand, In which they might embark again For their dear father-land. " Or, if it pleased th' unlucky crew To go away before, A trusty band of warriors should Attend them to the shore, Where foreign vessels always touch Upon a certain day, And thus they might in peace depart To North America. '' My father gave to me the charge With fifty chosen men, . I led them to the nearest port In seven days and ten ; And that's the last I ever saw Or heard of that sad crew ; But one of them — Oh, can it bef LookM very like to you." The merchant fell upon his knees Before his new-bought slave. And freedom, as he wept for joy. Unto the Prince he gave ; While pardon for his countrymen In grief he did implore : '* How could a Christian people steal A prince from Afric's shore?" The Slave. 11 *^Thou shalt a brother dwell with me, Or if it doth thee please, A ship of mine shall bear thee home Where streams and hearts ne'er freeze, But where the orange and the date Among the spices grow, And gold dust glitters on the plains Instead of ice and snow." The Prince replied, '*I pardon all The wrongs they've done to me. But freedom for my brother slaves I can but long to see; And while hot blood shall course these veins, Until the day I die. To see my kinsmen all set free This faithful heart will sigh. " I long to see my native land. The place where I was born ; I love it better than your own. So rich in crops of corn. Just so did you my father-land Behold with light esteem. When borne away to cotton-fields. In many a homesick dream." The Prince then sail'd across the sea To meet his cherish'd band, Despising Southern rice-swamps Beside his native land; But sad was he to leave behind, In manacles and chains. Three millions of his fellow men, To toil for others' gains. , .»! f ft 11 12 John Stark. Mti i p:-' iiiif JOHN STARK. There was n time when Grecian bards could sing The noble deeds of hero, god and king, And with the Lesbian lyre pleased to tell, How great Achilles bravely fonght and fell. Nor then did Helicon's least son repine, Inspired not by smiles of the gracious Nine. Then may a lover of the muse recite. The famous deeds of a Londonderry wight, In whose veins coursed old Scotland's nohlest blood, Whence came his ancestors across the flood, To plant a city in the Western wild. Where they might dwell beneath the scepter mild Of Liberty. John Stark, a hunter true Went out (as pioneers are wont to do) With a keen rifle and a faithful guide, To thread the gloomy forest far and wide. In quest of shrewd fox and swift- footed roe. That shyly shunn'd the Indian lance and bow. Not many furlongs from that woodgirt vill. Through & dense thicket flows a gurgling rill, Hard by, beneath the bows of a hemlock tree, Lay a scout of the wild Abenaqui. A savage warwhoop rends the morning breeze, As dusky forms dart from among the trees, And by a sudden contest fierce but short. Stark and his friend obtain a new escort. O'er hills and through vales, by day and by night, The stern Abenaqui urge on their flight. Now when they to their distant nation came, John Stark. 1:3 Their captives they ehow and talk of their famei While praising them, the captors grim suggest, The race of gantlet as one of the best, Their speed to try. Long lines of youth prepare, Not to behohl but in the sport to share. Stark's hot blood boils, hia faithful friend to save. While he forgets he is himself a slave. He tnkes a club and fells the dark throng, He runs the gantlet but free from the thong; The chiefs raise shoutings, right glad to behold, One that was valiant and one that was bold, Yet to enhance their sport and end the show. They tell the prisoner, their corn he must hoe. The dauntless slave beneath their sullen gaze. Leaving the weeds, with zeal cuts up the maize. All vote as one man when this they did see To make Stark chieftain of th' Abenaqui. Amazed was each one in that counsel ring. To hear a slave refuse to be their king. Soon for a price their prisoners they sold. Calling each one five hundred franks in gold. Stark quitted with joy his Canadian home And in three days to Derryfield he came. To his old saw mill, he once more returns And by his own hands, his bread daily earns, Happy to lead a quiet miller's life. Free from the dangers and hardships of strife. Now border warfare was brought to a close. While peace and plenty crown'd the sweet repose. When lo! a tyrant great proclaims afar To all who dwell io North America, That they must give way to what he thinks best, Nor fail in doing what he may request. Great king George finding his proud threats in vain Does his fierce anger in nowise restrain, m i hm ;f I % ■'it! 14 John Stark. But sends his minions vile to rob and slay All those who had denied his savage sway, Stark calls his townsmen their homes to defend, And not beneath a yoke their free necks bend. On Bunker's hill no patriot was there, hi dangers and hardships more free to share, Than he who ere in Indian wars had won A name as bright as Telaraon's brave son. At Trenton, Stark did battle on the field, Where then the redcoats' doom was firmly seal'd, Again at Princeton, he won in the fight, And gave his country fresh hope and delight; Nor did the fluttering Eaglet safely soar, Free from the grim sound of fierce Lion's roar. While paltry Hessians, Vandal like descend. The cause of King George for gold to defend, The yeomen rise up once more to declare, The yoke of slaves they'll never deign to bear. Each his knapsack around himself then girds As brave^ Stark utters these undying words: •* Those redcoats yonder, ere the evening shadow. Must be ours, boys, or Molly Stark's a widow." Shouts thrice repeated echo then afar, While the door of the morning smiles ajar. The Hessians and Tories yield the day, Nor would they stand to be shot at for pay. Stark served his country till the contest closed. With Freedom's triumph and death to her foes. But should we wait each famous deed to tell. Our humble lay would to a volume swell. Then let's remember with profound delight, The man of nerve, the general of might. And in all coming time his praise shall rise, From those who may admire the great and wi?e. JVew Year. 15 NEW YEAR. Hail! happy day returning, Thou leader of the year, f^To gladden all thy children And those that weep to, cheer. Like to the weaver's shuttle, Thy visit thou dost make, And did not Sun and Moon count, Thy comings we'd mistake. Let thy propitious advent The sons of men advise, To watch the proffer'd blessing That in the future lies. Ye faint hearts learn, by ceasing To worry and to fret. That fish as good are swimming As ever fili'd a net ; That birds as rare are flying As ever SStickney shot; That fields are left for ploughing. Like Adam's famous lot ; That bears as fat are loafing In many shady dales. As ever felt the tickling Of Crockett's well pared nails; ^ •^1 mi F,i| 'ir lii I nii' B 1 m f 16 J\rew Year. That deer as fine are crouching Beneath the forest tree, As ever lined the ladder Of th' wild Abenaqui; That suns as bright for shining Are yet to rise and set, As ever shone at Tibur, Or dried a fisher's net. Teach men to woo contentment, That balm of every bane, Without which endless pleasure Becomes perpetual pain. Teach him to cherish virtue. And love for all mankind; For by our loving others, We love alone can find. We welcome all thy teachings, Thou harbinger of truth ; Instructor of our old age And teacher of our youth. We welcome thee, dispeller Of every grief and fear. Thou parent of our happy. Our happiest New Year. In Our Country^ s Change, 17 OUR COUNTRY'S CHANGE. In days of yore our worthy fathers did Such noble deeds in this Republic, that The world declared no land could then produce More heroes than our own America. Men fear'd disgrace, which comes from evil deeds Or treachery, the worst of mortal crimes; Nor dared the office holder to despise The people, in whose hands the country is. So 'twas when brave John Paulding, with two friends, Disdeign'd to trifle with the sacred trust Committed to their hands in time of war; Nor could an insult greater then be known Than for a foe of human liberty To try to bribe a sterling patriot. So 'twas when Washington, the great and good, Gave to the people what they e*er had own'd, What tyrants wrested from them — Liberty. So 'twas when Jackson quell'd the nullifying clique Which set at nought the nation's chosen laws, And bid defiance to the peoi)le's will; His name stands forth in bold relief as one, Who for his country's weal could sacrifice That fleeting bubble — Popularity. But now, alas! what sort of men command The mighty ship of this great commonwealth? Do men of virtue represent the bar Of justice, where the rich and poor alike, The humblest beggar and the proudest lord, 2 ■ It 'I I. i M it ; iti; ^ ill' mi |i:;i Iff I Si n r 18 Our Country^s Change. Should stand to get with speed their true deserts? Do men of talent and integrity Go forth to make the people equal laws? Or do the drunken and the profligate Receive preferment at the people's hands? What spot within this wide extended land Is so corrupted and disgraced by crime As that great city named for Washington ? There bloody and debasing deeds abound, That might well make the wildest heathen blush, If in his nation they had e'er occurrM. There bribes indeed are tendered and received For votes on questions, greater than the which Can not before a mighty nation come ; Like votes were but a thing of merchandise A banker^s bill e'en, or a note of hand. Thus men, engaged in making rules that are To be the laws of millions yet unborn. Act with regard as little as would boys. Who wieh'd to build a snow fort for the day. They heed not now the great examples set By men of stern and simple habits, who Watch'd o'er with zeal their cherish'd country's good, Unmindful of all personal concerns. The People must in majesty arise And drive each ** loafer " from the public crib) Then will the nation, purged from vices, stand Approved before the people and their God. Winter. 19 WINTER. Stern Winter comes, now knocking, Now knocking at our door. We hear his wonted whistle, We hear his sullen roar. We would not put thee off, friend, No longer have thee wait, Lest thy delay should alter The faultless ways of Fate. We welcome thee to teach us The varying course of life ; How when in ease and quie^ To look for wars and strife. Since every virtue preludes A corresponding vice ; So may the fall of nations Be shadow'd at their rise. Welcome, thou hoary teacher, To tell by thine own gloom, How all in youth and beauty Are hastening to the tomb. I ¥ 20 Think of the Poor. 'i lllft ■ 'M THINK OF THE POOR. When the cold winds howl around And snow conceals the frozen ground, Think of the poor, Whom hunger sore Oppresses with a deadly grasp. When seated round the bounteous board Which opulence may well afford, Think of the poor. Whose scanty store Is scarce enough to nourish life. When clothed in garments finely wrought. E'en from a foreign country brought, Think of the poor, Hard by your door. Whose forms old rags but half conceal. When seated near your blazing fire Or list'ning to the tuneful lyre, Think of the poor. Who from the moor Can listen to but howling winds. While in the land they may remain, Let every citizen and swain Think of the poor, The worthy poor, Who need a brother's helping hand. Battle of Thermopyla. 21 ht, BATTLE OF THERMOPYLAE. Now Xerxes, king of Persia proud, Muster'd a mighty host; To exterminate the valiant Greeks He made his luckless hoast. Not to avenge an injury, But to extend his sway, And make the bravest of the brave Tribute and homage pay. When he led from his Eastern realm Two million men and more, The mightiest nations trembled then As ne'er they'd done before. All hearts grew faint before the king And'quickly bow'd each knee, Until he met the Spartan braves At the pass, Thermopylse. Leonidas had mustered. And led his Spartan band Against th' invading enemy To guard his father-land. From such as might have living sons T' immortalize their name. He chose three hundred yeomanry, Like patriots they came. t •Hi ii ■ i I '■ .1 > I \ „ I ,'■!■'*! tek. r 22 JSo^tfe of Thermopyla. When, that an army, Xerxes heard, Was coming to contend. To learn their number and their name He faithful spies did send. The spies unnoticed learn with ease Whatever they would know^ And to declare a full report To Xerxes they did go. The king pronounced it folly great For them so few to stay, And waited full three days and mere To see them run away. To the proud king's astonishment, They quitted not their post, But waited for opposing him E'en with his mighty host. Xerxes enraged with fury great Commands the Medes to place Th' insulting puny Spartan band Before him face to face. The Medic army rushes bold T' obey the king's commands, Its number most resembled there. The countless sea-shore sands. The Spartan band of heroes brave. With sabers long and bright. Mow down th' advancing columns quick. Or scatter them in flight 'Tr Battle of Thermopylae. The king then sent his body cuards To succor them with speed, And on the bold *' immortal troops ^ Hydarnes quick did lead. But they were roughly handled too And in flight quickly sown, While Xerxes king, in terror great Twice leap'd up off his throne. The king was greatly troubled then And knew not what to do, For the Spartan braves repulsed him And many brave men slew. Now, a Trachinian poltroon (Cpialtes was his name), Made known to him another pass And pointed out the same. (Woe to the brute in human form, Who but for gold dust sand, Betrays to foreign tyranny His lovely father-land.) Hydarnes, then the king commands. With a traitor for his guide. To cross the lofly mountain there Toward the southern side. Hydarnes finds the Spartan band, Unmoved as he draws nigh. Determined to protect their homes And like brave men to die. 83 I"'. %'j m !'f 24 The Crow. I ■: i i : i i . 1 ■ nm^ Their spears already broken up And bathed in royal gore, They rallied round Leonidas For once but never more. Forward they rush with sword in hand To meet the welcomed grave, For joy they thought it there to die Their father-land to save. The contest closed, the deed was done. Not a Spartan soul was there, Their bodies were upon the ground, Their spirits in the air. Thrice blessed are the mothers, who To heroes such, gave birth ; Oh ! where is valor in the land ? Such courage on the earth ? Thrice honored is the nation brave To which they do belong, Their names shall live in history, Their deeds in epic song. i 5 1 ifrf r?.- THE CROW. Ye poets, sing the dove. The sleepless nightingale. The bobolink and lark And e'en the drumming quail. I' I hi I The Crow. 25 But sine: ye in sunshine, For e'er the north winds blow, Your beauties fly from you And southerly they go. Departing they leave you Through winter all alone, Their beauty bright to sing, And their long absence moan. Like friends who in success Quite numberless abound, When persecutions rise Not one is to be found. Through Winter's cold and gloom Of beating hail and snow. Among the green pine tops Sits e'er the dauntless Crow. In spite of all your scorn United with your law. That sable bird stays here And greets you with a " caw.** Put up all your scarecrows And do the best you can, The Crow will " caw" at you Not noticing your ban. F ( 7' IS ^4 26 Sunset. * iii f % i" i:; * m i n SUNSET. The day is far spent. The sun is low down, The brow of the evening Will soon don its crown. Just look o'er yon mount, Its half phase is seen, Slowly now hiding Its face clear and sheen. The shadows now fly With speed of the fawn. And in the distance They soon will be gone. From yon horizon The bright sun is fled, Tho west is now deck-d With crimson and red. The monarch of light Departs on his way, With promise to give To us a new day. !: * The Triors Advict. «7 THE TRIO'S ADVICE. [*d often heard it gravely said, Lnd e'en the same thing I had read, ^hat boys must take wise men's advice, if they would in true knowledge rise, > if they free from troubles sore, ^ould pass life's devious journey o'er, fow I desirous was to learn, Vuth from falsehood to discern, Ls also certainly to know, ^hether this thing was not or so; [And to prevent the least mistake, ll three experiments di'J make. JThe labor was by no means small, lYet I will now record it all, To save each one the same hard task, Who would desire advice to ask Of those most wise and sagely men. Who wield the shovel or the pen. [Upon a lovely Summer morn, 1 1 met a farmer hoeing corn ; With ruddy cheeks and brawny arm, I He loved to till his fertile farm ; Four stalwart boys, a blooming wife, To make complete the joys of life. Were his, with all that he admired. No better fortune he desired. Than on his flocks and herds to gaze And till his fields of verdant maize. •.'■.V I .1' # M it ■ ^' J 1 .^J:'f I r:;); 5 41 n \'^. i! ; i 28 The Triors Advice. I asked him how that men should live ? If he would dei^n advice to give, E'en so that I might comprehend On what the joys of life depend. Now with a look, a little wry, He closed tight his left grey eye, And slightly raising up his head, Me answering, he thus then said: " I've studied long and learned well my boy, To know the spring of every woe and joy. Yet I'm aware that some think men are fools, Who have not been brought up in noted schools, To learn by rule each cunning subtile trick And that strange art which they call rhetoric, By which they tell not briefly what they'd say, But in a circuitous and mystic way; Than thus, an orator had better speak In Choctaw language or in Greek. I've learn'd to tell rner better by their looks, Than by their speeches, or their polish'd books, So better far I know when deeds declare. Than words, ere cull'd with most assiduous care. Would you live happy from this very day, Spend not your time in vanity and play; Nor fare upon too rich and dainty food. Lest o'er thy form by night fierce vultures brood, Or while you're scanning sights mysterious, You fall deep down in direiul Tartarus; But let employment occupy your days, With simple meals, end corresponding ways; Then ev'ry joy you surely may possess And happiness your future days shall bless." This then the happy farmer said. And slightly bow'd again bis head. W The Trio's Advice. 29 boy, fools, schools, ck toric, dsay, books, us care. brood, m thanked him for his kind advice, Lbove the rubies far in price, Lnd left him there to till the ground, happier man than ^{l is found. 'he doctor next I chanced to meet, ^ho understood his art complete, 'he broken limb to amputate, 'he system all to regulate; [ndeed great cures he'd often wrought, le'd healM the sick of ev'ry sort. leM also learn'd the way to please, Ls well as cruel pains to ease, lim I then ask'd the proper ways, ►f spending well c. ''eeting days, 50 that we may not e'er repent, ^hat we our time have illy spent, 'he doctor as a moral guide^ 'hen with a learned air replied : r I think it is but right, young friend, to state, [That I am ever wont to medicate Each healing dose, that I so oft prescribe To sickly patients of tine human tribe. . Nor yet iy it to me a given task, [To answer questions such as you now ask, But 1 will speak just as it seems to me. Regarding not abstruse philosophy. Be always affable and as polite To humble laborer and rustic wight, As to the ostentatious millionaire. Who lounges in his softly cushion'd chair, I Despising men as good, e'en as himself I But lacking only hoarded heaps of pelf. I ' 30 The Trio's Advice. :l m m *u :'l; (in ^#^ 'F 4' 'H t tl No man's opinion good or bad, dispute, Yet rather be considerately mute, Unless to you his words by chance refer, E'en then His better quiet to demur, If reputation fair is not at stake; But when 'tis so, a firm defence then make, For wars and quarrels always bring such ills That we in vain administer our pills; Since we have not succeeded yet to find A medicine to heal a wounded mind. Live by these principles and similar ; Let Virtue be your constant guiding star. Then unto you with years shall long increase The pleasant fruits of harmony and peace." Thus did the doctor then reveal His views of gaining joy and weal, And taught to shun the ills most rife. Which take away the bliss of life. My legal friend did next explain The antidote of ev'ry pain, Which as he thought each one could draw From living scenes and books of law: « I've often gain'd the guilty rascal's cause And saved him from the vengeance of the laws. While I have sometimes seen the innocent Receive the strokes of unjust punishment* Thus I have learn'd to try as hard to save The guilty loafer and the heartless knave. As those who ne'er a wrong to any one In all their life maliciously have done. Make this for you a never varying rule, In ev'ry circumstance of life, keep cool; Fret not for that you no way can prevent, Bear calmly all that is by Fortuiae sent. m 1 i The Trio'^s Advice, 31 ike evils with an even balanced mind, an escape you can by no means find; }ar not those ills that yet are far away, >r they may vanish ere another day ; do they come you bear them once nor more ^hile if you fear, you bear them ten times o'er. ^hen Fortune grants success, let joy be great; then yourself, with pleasure freely sate. [njoy life's blessings as they come and go, it each to you another one foreshow. fo pleasing hope most firmly always cling, the ^' smoothe handle " taking every thing. These sentiments with zealous mind retain ind they'll ensure you a perpetual gain, coupled with an energetic will III opposition speedily to kill." The lawyer said; indeed as though le did these thing's most surely know; ^r by experience he bad found Sach one to be correct and sound. :*hus farmer, doctor, lawyer wise )id me then severally advise ; l^ach told some things 'twere certain true, f Tor did I all my labor rue. |f ow let us never vainly spurn ^)f any man, a truth to learn ; ^or who despbingly has scann'd ^he diamond though in common sand ? 'he Trio look'd yrom whert they stoodf ]ach saw Tie evil and the good. lius all upon this life do gaze, ht each beholds a different phase. 32 Spring. t ^i IH il ''^f 'il if* . I! SPRING. Welcome, thou genial Spring again, While Notus gently blows. And the meridian rays sustain, The murm'riug brook that flows. Welcome, ye transitory birds, We've waited for you long. We've niiss'd you 'mong the hardier herds, We've niiss'd your tuneful song. Welcome, ye plsasant showere of rain In lieu of hail and snow. To wash away each bio. and stain From smiling Nature's brow. No longer let the ploughman stay Before the blazing fire. No longer on the lute to play, ' Or on the peaceful lyre. The flocks no longer huddle round The stall they used to fill, But grazing on the meadow ground, Or on the distant hill. All Nature seems so blithe and gay With nothing to annoy. That one would almost think or s ly, " This world is one of joy." Iceland. 33 Then let our ountless praises rise To Father of us all, » Who dwells above the azure skies And blesseth great and small. Then let us live and learn to love The God of Nature more, To whom we hope to go above, As taught in sacred lore. .'1S ICELAND. There is a little rocky isle Away'n the frozen zone, Amid cold Arctic waves, she stands In solitude alone. r Her mountains, ever clad with snow, In majesty arise Toward the sailor's guiding star, ; Implanted in the skies. Beneath these lofty monuments Eternal blazes glow; And from their summits bound in ice, Oft boiling liquids flow. Among these mountains drear and cold A happy people dwell; Since ev'i'y nation on the globe In virtue they excel. 3 «|!* 34 Iceland. \ m'\\ i'O I <" i .r ii ! 5 t ■ i i •S They have no silver bri^fht, nor gold To tempt the robber's eyes; The tyrant sees no treasure there, To make a worthy prize. The Icelanders contented live, As taught in Holy Word And for each blessing they receive, 'All thanks they give to God. Each father tells his children, how Jesus of Bethlehem Is standing now in paradise To intercede for them. How they must live and serve their God, Who loved them the first, And now will deign to pardon sins, The slightest and the worst. Those Christian people thus have lived Free from all wars and fears. For they have not an army seen These twice three hundred years. But they, like brothers true, have dwelt Ii: love with nil the world ; And may the flag of war remain As now, forever furl'd. May all the nations of the earth From direful carnage cease, And look to dreary Iceland's coast To learn the ways of peace. J Pi: "•»-~ JNature. 35 To see a people who can li^re At peace with one and all, Who settle not their differences By sword and nitisk Of glaring evils manifold, That do embrace with deadly hand The people of our happy land ; And not the least of these perchance The evil of Intemperance. Within our legislative halls, At private parties and at balls. At village tavern, country store, We hear it echoM o'er and o'er; And if a while you'll lend an ear, About this matter you shall hear. There was a time not long ago, As all our worthy fathers know, When men their buildings couldn't raise. Nor meet for husking out their maize. Without a little sprite to drink ; For thus the wisest learn'd to think. Then friends together loved to sup The pleasing contents of the cup, Regarding irot to-morrow's weal, While drinking now they happy feel; Regretting that their necks are not As endless as the winding rut, For happy men indeed are they, If they forget the coming day. Then even parsons did not scorn With laity to take a horn 4 'i ■J^ ^-m :''i f.. ;t:: -'lii ' 50 The Temperance Cause. Of brandy, or of blushing wine, As guest or host chanced to incline ; For they could prove from Holy Word That in so doing no one err'd ; And if a skeptic there might be, They'd read Paul's words to Timothy; Forgetting how the prophet John Was never known to take a horn Of stronger spirits, or of wine That came directly from the vine; Nor did they think of righteous Noah, That drunk lay sprawling on the floor, Who brought the curse of God upon Unlucky Ham, his impious son. And if a preacher of that day, While in the pulpit, dared to say, That '* strong drink rages and wine mocke," HeM not be callM quite orthodox ; For thus he'd meddle in th' affair That to the world should be a care. " Let ministers the gospel preach," In thunder tones the rabble screech ; While deacons grave, to say are heard, " All ministers should preach the word, And not about such things dispute, Lest they should gain a bad repute." Then truly almost all agreed * That of such talk there was no need. Since best of men would fail to dine Before they'd lose their glass of tvine. Few were the preachers, passing few, (If rife tradition speaketh true,) That would the proffer'd bowl decline ' i The Temperance Cause, Or speak against imbibing wine, Since they supposed it was no sin To take a glass of wine or gin, In sooth but for their stomach's sake. Or to prevent a sick headache, Or render them more eloquent In warning sinners to repent. But in their zeal men's souls to save A price, in vain, they sometimes gave Their manhood and their scanty wealth, Their reputation and their health. While as a mark of passing zeal Some like a drunken man would reel ; And as those zealuus men arose Each one display'd a blushing nose ; Then to their hearers' great surprise. They strangely roll'd their bloodshot eyes. Now this the faithful most appall'd. That ministers were drunkards call'd. But these astounding facts were true. E'en at that time of very few ; Yet that it is not all a lie Their own transactions testify. In old Mass'chusetts, famous state, (As truthful writers do relate,) A great convention met of those, Who much desired to oppose The wicked practices of some, Who drank too freely, wine and rum. These ministers discuss'd the case And wept for their so great disgrace; Yet they did not condemn rum's tue, But only its profane abuse, By those who did all warning spite 51 J^i ,^ii 1' '. V •I *^'i ii 1 I lit I ;- ^i*i|i '*li 52 7%6 Temperance Cat^e. And thus ha'•'■ Ai m ^^ f 68 Saint Patrick. ■* ^ m'i^ !■' ^ No nation there of mortal men Were yet remaining free, From Lybia^s most distant sands E'en to the German sea. Though far beyond the German bounds There was a flowVy land, That ne'er had worn a foreign yoke Nor borne the tyrant's hand. Already A!bion was call'd A part of mighty Rome, Her sons had tamely given up Their freedom and their home. But Erin's heroes then preserved Their country from her fall, They rallied round their gallant chief, Their king— the brave Niall. They sail'd across the narrow strait To join the mountaineers, / Who dwelt in Caledonia, Despising coward fears. Nor did they, like the Albions, yield Before th' invaders' face, But each one swore to die, or save His country from disgrace. The Roman legions could not stand Such valor and such might. That army, which had conquer'd oft, Was scatter'd now in flight, I Saint Patrick, 69 The Romnn host left Albion's shore, Pursued by Erin's chief Until they came to southern Gaul, Where they obtainM relief. Instead of staying there to fight The Gallic force of Rome, ' The chieftain with his captive band Prepared for going home. But as the snow-white sails were spread To leave the land of Gaul; Oh ! sad indeed it is to tell, A vassal slew Niall. It was the year three eighty-nine, When they arrived at home. And in that weepins captive band The lad Souchet had come. He was a foreign heathen's slave. Who never yet had heard Of Jesus, who had died for all. Nor ofHis Holy Word. While in the woody mountain tops. He did ihe cattle tend; Unto his God and Savior there, He many prayers would send, v And while it was commanded him, For herds of swine to care. He was engaged both day and night In long and fervent prayer. ^ it;: Ip ' *■. ? I' ^' i 11 1 If, 1 ^i. |:j M 70 jSfain^ Patrick. Whene'er be laid him down to sleep Or when he woke by night, Oft pious musings of his mind To heaven took their flight. While thus in fasting and in prayer He spent his servitude, His tender mind with love of God Most deeply was imbued. Affliction was to him a source, Of blessings from above. For while he bore his cross with Christ, His God he learn'd to love. The Lord of heaven kindly smiled Upon this gracious boy, Who suffer'd with a Christian mind And with a holy joy. Thus far from native land and home, Upon the mountains wild, God breathed on this humble slave And mark'd him as his child. Then while exposed to rain and i^now, In darkness or in light, God shielded from all injury And guided him aright, f Like Joseph in a foreign land. Upright he was and just, To Bufrer and to love his God, If suffer there he must. ♦ Saint Patrick. 71 But God is ever near at hand To rescue the oppressed, To save his children when they cry And when they are distress'd. Souchet was now just twenty-two, Six years had past away ; He left his cruel masrar's house Upon a certain day. He came beside the ocean's strand ; A ship's about to sail ; He left the shore of Erin's isle, * Borne by a fav'ring gale. But soon the winds grow boisterous And raging billows raise, So that to gain the Gallic land It takes three gloomy days. And then o'er mountain, hill and dale For thirty days he goes, Ere he at home arrives again, There to enjoy repose. Now when among his cherish'd friends He'd been about two years, Unto his mind, vail'd in deep sleep, A vision there appears. Like Paul from Macedonia, From Ireland he heard The people's messenger to say, '* Come here and preach the Word.** 1'^ ' . 72 Saint Patrick. ■t i) » k: The youth amazed awoke from Bleep, He thought upon th' affair, And ever after was intent To preach the Gospel there. For gaining more experience And to enrich his mind, To traverse foreign countries o'er He was at first incl'^ed. Saint Martin then advised him. Where he had better go Afld ii^at was most important for A holy priest to know. To Albion he first repaired, Where he's enslaved again. Yet he in bondage there remaiu'd, But fifly days and ten. ' I For with some comrades his escape Most luckily was made, Although he slept upon the ground And on wild honey fed. Like to the prophets of the Lord, Who did once dwell in caves, All hardships he by faith endures And greatest danger braves. At length he gains his native town By chances opportune, Where he remains in happiness The pleasant month of June. %if'^ Saint Patrick. 73 Tb^^n he prepares to leave his home For the Italian shore, Where he might with St. German dwell O'er manuscripts to pore ; To learn the customs of those men, Who first the Gospel taught, Who saw the miracles that Paul, And that our Savior wrought ; To learn the nature of mankind, And in what way he might Best to a heathen nation preach To spread the Gospel light, And how the faithful best were kept Safe from the Devil's snares, Free from the wiles of wicked men And from corrupting cares. He dwelt at Rome about six years To study sacred lore, When in a ship he left behind Italia's sunny shore. fe: Thence sailing to a little isle In the Turonian sea, He lived among the hermi From worldly cares set free. re, Here he received the famous staff, Which histories ri-late Was at the port of Dublin buriil In fifteen thij-t^-eight. Ti W:f' ^ <•! 1:^4 it-. -fa ♦ i^t -*. ^ ■' t » F '^ -<■■' i 1-!^ fc !# 74 SfaiW Patrick. He went to Albion then with Segetius his friend, Whose object was of errors there To make a speedy end. About this time Pallaidus From Ireland retired, And soon among his cherish'd friends, In quiet he expired. A faithful preacher long was he, 7. Yet he could not withstand The fierceness of the heathens' rage In that, then barbarous land. A few believed and were baptized, And writers most agree, That just before he left the isle, He founded churches three. Souchet now heard this land was left In darkness and in gloom,, He calls to mind that wondrous dream And turns his step^ to Rome. He tells the Pope the mournful news. And how when, that he heard, His soul within him burnM to go And preach God's Holy Word. The Pope declarad it should be done. Whatever he desired, Because such pious sentiments His fervent mind inspired. y i' Saint Patrick. 76 His name was changed to Patricus, Or Patrick as say we, Since he a father in the church In future was to be. He was ordain'd a holy priest In the year four thirty-one, Soon after which on Erin's isle His ministry began. He landed, borne by favVing gales, Upon that heathen shore With faithful comrades and true friends In number thirty- four. Saint Patrick preachM " not as the scribes," But like a man that knew, The things whereof he spoke to them To be divine and true. He told them how that Christ had died A ruinM world to save. And how that God had raised him up The third day from the grave. His earnest and persuasive words Sunk deep in ev'ry heart, In that salvation, which he preach'd, Each one desired a part The first, who ari^M with zeal to know What God would have him do, Was of a royal Iiiah race, A genVous soul and true. .V''''! '.,:-i| f 1 .*■ ., 5 iit 76 Saint Patrick. ri |:'||iii| His name, Sinell is placed among The men of Ireland, Whose pious lal)ors evermore Iq bold relief will stand. In vain did cruel Nathi rage With insult and with jeer; Saint Patrick preachM the Cross of Christ Not knowing how to fear. Those, who at first had threatened him, Were brought to grief and tears. And soon they thank'd the Saint that spoke The Gospel in their ears. But when he came to Rath-Inbher Upon the river Bray, The pagans of those parts arose, And Patrick drove away. From thence he sailM toward the north, And when he drew to land. The king supposed his ship to bear A roving pirate band ; And with a force of armed men He hastened to the bay, Saint Patrick and his little crew, With full intent to slay ; Yet with his saintly visage struck, Dichu in silence stood, While Patrick preach'd to him the Cros9 And taught him iVom God's word. Saint Patrick, 77 The chief believed with all his heart And changed his wicked plan, In Jesus' nanne he put his tru^t VVith all his faithful clan. Thus then he brought a heathen tribe, A stern and mighty foe, From bowing down to idols dumb The living God to know. The king then set apart the ground Where first he heard the Word, To be a consecrated place To build a church of God. Saint Patrick now recalM to mind The master of his youth, And thitherward he bent his steps To teach the way of truth. He blotted from his pious mind The wrongs he'd sufFer'd there, And that God also would forgive Was his most fervent prayer. But when his master Milcho heard How many had believed, That his own slave should preach to him This proud man greatly grieved. He rear'd a costly fun'ral pile According to his pride. On which before his weeping friends A heathen death he died. **' I !..^t I ( , "-fi. if im I tit M 'i ,1 78 SairU Patrick. When of this rash and shocking deed The great Apostle hears, He for three mournful hours stands In silence and in tears. Although for Milcho's death he grieved His labors there were crown'd, For Milcho's children soon believed And Christ, their Savior found. Southward again he turnM his course As far's the Bregian plain, Where many converts to the Cross He thought that he might gain ; For then there was a festival, A noted one, and great, Which all the people with the king At Easter celebrate. There was a custom at that time, That not ablaze might rise Before the bonfire of the king Should tower to the skies. Now Patrick builds his morning fire As he was wont to do. Which when the Druids did behold Unto the king they flew, And told him how there was a fire Which blazed before his own, And that the builder, if it burn'd Would take away his crown. Saifnt Patrick. 79 The king despatch'd his messengenii Who in the shortest time Should bring the Saint before bis face To answer for the crime. He also gave a stern command, That all men should despise The stranger who had done the deed Nor from their seats arise; But Ere the son of Dego rose And gave the Saint a seat, Nor would he for the king's command The holy man illtreat; This young man of a noble mind A bishop soon was made, While for that kind and genVous act His fame shall never fade. The Saint appearM before the king Both grave and dignified, Yet to excuse himself for crime, He there in nowise tried. Nor did the king condemn the Saint, But listenM while he taught Of that L^alvation which to earth By Jesus Christ was brought. The courtiers and the nobles wise. The Druids and the queen To hear Saint Patrick as he spoke In silent awe were seen. I-%1 :| rN i,Jj? • * I :» if . v i <■■ i' Vf #^ a 'I' i f Mf^lHiii 80 Saint Tatrick. Thus many with the king believed In what the stranger taught, And in his Savior for a hope Most earnestly they sought. Now when he had baptized them, He lefl that happy place, Imploring God to keep them all By his sustaining grace. From there he came to Talten mount Where he baptized the king And many others that to God He did by preaching bring. In Meath and Louth he spent the year Four hundred thirty-four, Converting and baptizing there Of heathen many a score. Saint Patrick soon had visited The isle in every part, Baptizing many a prince and king Converting many a heart, Hundreds of churches he had built Where preachers were ordain'd. Who in each village and each town, When he had gone, remain'd. Now when he had established The churches firm and well, He went away to distant Rome A full report to tell, i Saint Patrick. Each Christian there was pleased to learn Of his so great success, And how the land to which he'd been The Lord did greatly bless. Soon he retiirnM to Ireland To spend his latter days Where, on the churches he had built He might with pleasure gaze, Among the people he had led From darkness and from night, To see the presence of the Lord In clear and shining light. He lived in happiness and peace At Armagh and at Saul, Attending to the schools he form''d And to the churches' call. Upon the sev "nteenth day of March In the year ibur ninety-three, From all the cares and toils of life Saint Patrick was set free. All Erin's isle deplored his losa As one who gave them life. Who saved them from eternal woe And from all civil strife. His name is now a household word Upon that island, where The p]>urches of the living God Were first to hi»n a care. 6 81 %^ ^. V^>-„0. IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) 1.0 I.I 1^ ^ 140 m 1.8 1.25 1 1.4 1.6 ^ 6" ► ^/ ..1^ ■;» Photographic Sciences Corporation 4" 23 WEST MAIN STREET '.VEeS?iR,N.Y. 14580 (716) 872-4503 ^ ■^ \ i; i '. P; M u 82 Do as I Do and You are Safe. r His death they now commemorate With prayer year after year, As one who saved their ancestors . From many a grief and tear. Each village now can show a c'urch, Which bears Saint Patrick's i.ame And that will to the latest age Hand down his spotless fame. Long live his name among those men, Who laborM for their race, V« hose holy lives, illustrious deeds Did decorate and grace. Then let us hold his memVy dear, His deeds tell o'er and o'er; ' For it was he who taught God's word Upon fair Erin's shore. ,'•:! j^. DO AS I DO AND YOU ARE SAFE. There was a custom many years ago, J (At leasK the fathers tell the children so,) When harvest came and crops now waving stand As 'twere t' invite the sturdy farmer's hand To take the sickle, and the garner fill With grains, that grow on ev'ry plain and hill. For laborers to buy a little ** sprite " To make them feel both vigorous and right; Intending sure quite temperate to be, Despising all a drunken man to see ; Do as I Do and You are Safe. 83 Since each alone would say, as he would sigh, "I fear my neighbor will a drunkard die." Three jolly farmers went afield one morn, When each had taken an o'erflowing " horn;" And as the sun pourM down his melting fire. Each one grew hotter, an/i of course was dryer, Until the bumpers, round and round again, i , Caused each to stagger with a dizzy brain ; And as they went on binding up the wheat, Each did in turn their friend Joe Tompkins meet. The first, old Hij^hlands, met Vith ruddy Joe, Who with a smile, presents a graceful bow And says, " the weather is both hot and dry All things are thirsty, gracious ! so am I." They look, and lo! across the wheaten field, Davis and Crowell like young children reel'd. Then Highlands takes a " horn " with blushing Joe And gravely says as he prepares to go, \^^ If I covMnH drink HhotU drinking thus, too much, A drop of rum Pd never deign to touch J* '. Soon Davis came along with staggVing gait I And Joe's best health he asked him to state. Joe says, *' I'm tough but sad in truth to know Highlands and Crowell should both stagger so. " Davis did quick unto his work then hie, I As he with coolness made the same reply : I" JflcouldnU drink Hhoui drinking thus, too much, •^ drop of rum Fd never deign to touxh,^ Now Thompson met the other reeling wight, Poor Crowell, who was in a'sadder plight, For when he stoop'd to bind the pliant band, ,] Headlong he'd fall into the stifling sand; Nop speaks to Crowell in his blandest way And did to him with solemn air thus say: } ,11 im V^\ ill k 1 t'l'^'f I "1 P.' 84 One'^8 Jfative Land, *< How Davis staggers and as Highlands goes, The sand he roots oft with his blushing nose. Oh ! what a shame ! for men to get so ** tight," £'en while the sun is not yet to his height." Then Crowell tottering, leans against the fence And for replying he did thus commence: ^ Oft I have seen such foolish men as they, Who throw their lives and property away, Not knowing how like me to drink aright To raise their spirits and increase their might; For coM I not drink^thovi drinking too much A drop of rum Vd never deign to touch." m .-•i'v M m J'fi X'-'.:.i' ONE'S NATIVE LAND. There is a charm around the place, Where first we breathed the vital air; That spot possesses ev'ry grace And ev'rything, that we call fair. The garden, whero we used to walk, Led by a loving mother's hand And where we first began to talk, " ' ' Endears us to our father-land. Those fields, in childhood, where we playM And gayly cull'd the fairest flowVs, Where kites and tiny ships were made For sport by us in childish hours; That well known rock and oaken tree. Which gentle zephyrs often fann'd ; The very brook tnat laved the lee. All make us love our father-land. One^s JVative Land. The Esquimaux, in Northern snows, -^j Who lives beneath the frozen ground, Is happy, when the rough wind blows. And loves to hear its whistling sound; He loves his subterranean home .; - With roof and walls of yellow sand ' And lofty icebergs for its dome — .m He dearly loves his father-land, ,,j^% The stern Norwegian loves the ice, That ev'ry little lake enshrouds. Among the mountains, as rhey rise Towards the overhanging clouds ; He loves to hunt Jhe sleepy bear. With gleaming dagger in his hand Prepared to draw him from his lair— - Qe too doth prize his father-land, i^ ■■• .. Nil; The sable Ethiopean Admires his land, so fair and warm. And not another on earth can Present to him so great a charm; ' He loves the blazing of the sun. Though it has him so darkly tann'd And when away. Ah! he is one. That pines to see his father-land. V ti We can but think of childhood's home. The like to which, earth cannot give ; And when we strive it to forget. Our thoughts we can't command For if we would, or would not let, *t4 They'll seek again our father-land.^ 85 :»i1 SiiU p •■If; A • is! 'ii k 86 A WirUer Morning, ^y:t J !i ii ?B 111 Pi!;' m frri 4 1 We ne'er shall find such lovely hills, As those upon which we were born, Unless hard by, the very rills Flow just the same alons the lawn ; Our thoughts of home we'll tie'er divorce, Upon what island, mount or strand; Not till streams flow toward their source Can we forget our father-land. , ■•> <** (■,'- A WINTER MORNING. (Written for the Albany Evening Transcript.) Across the beaten pavement ^ The winds of Winter blow ; The crowded way of State street Is scntter'd o'er with snow» I sit me down to wonder And view the busy throng, I witness scenes of virtue, .^. > I witness deeds of wrong. ! . For trading in the city. The farmer from afar ^ ^ Departeth from his loved home By light of morning star, i.i Lest he too late should enter m;.^ ^ The over crowded street, And thus might fail in selling His fowls so plump and neat; ^ ill rM The Serpent. 87 While through the clear and cold air The echoing sound doth roll, From morn till eve resounding, The well known word, c-o-o-a-1. The " biped " with his lightwood, The matron with her fruit; One strives to sell by shoutingi The one by keeping mute, c Thus men in truth are seeking One and the same great gain; This, by his skill in speaking, This, by his silent pen. Yet who can chide the pedler? , And who but love^ to buy, ^"[ When by a trifling purchase, y He'll hush the orphan's sigh i i;i-t 1^- j't.:-'':." ■ '■■'■-.'£i ,., THE SERPENT. , The flowers and bushes The snake creeps between, ^ The mark for a poker ^ Where'er he is seen. The valleys and meadows Are not safe for him, Nor are lakes and rivers )[a which he may swim. ■'. .cm PI v\m i m 88 JVorth&m Lights. I' I W' l{ U ' 1' ' !■ IV . ♦ m m But prone on his belly fn dust he must walk, While all his proud neighbors Most haughtily stalk. The dust is his breakfast, His stern foes are rife, The dews are his nectar, Yet short is his life ; For meii always kill him Wherever they can, Since one snake was cursed For ruining man. And while we are zealous The cursed snake to slay. Let each one remember, We're cursed e*en as they. NORTHERN LIGHTS. Along the gleaminff heavens glow Bright flashes, like they were fire, Now blazing o'er the northern snow. Than even Hecla's top far high'r. As two contending armies move ^ The battb field along in fight, r^ So these across the arch above ' ^ Are passing with a splendid light. »'!' Sunrise. 89 « ■ < As 'twere, along the sky is heard The peal of cannon and of drum, And given to a host such word, As from a leader stem, would come. These lights were once supposed to be The omens of some direful woe. And each who did them chance to see. Then trembled for the coming blow. But since th' immortal Kane has been, Where he these blazes could inspect And has the polar icebergs seen. From which the sun^s cold rays reflect; It has been ascertain'd as true, That these lights are reflected rays, Foreboding mnn no fate to rue Or cause for fewer or worse days. >-):i ■,V*". J li. IPi ..■;;-;jr.(..-- ; '■> • ■ . IX. Their rulers coveted their fair and fertile land And longM to see the Acadians away, Who did not longer 'neath the tyrant's hand Wish in oppression there to stay. France, then forgetting not her children's woe, Besought that England kindly would command Her officers " to let the people go," Receiving hence the much desired land, Which, on account of its productive soil, The French had clear'd with vast and rigid toil. ,. ,. • .«.-,-?- ' Now hauehty England sternly did refuse This small and yet to them important boon; But this request, alas, was the excuse For villainies to be narrated soon. Th' Acadians were forced to yield their arms And e'en their boats possess'd for common use, In order that they might not cause alarms Nor dare revolt from barbarous abuse. Thus they were left defenceless and alone Beneath the yoke of tyranny to groan. XI. An edict was to them put forth at length, That they should meet upon a certain day. They knew full well, they were deprived of strength And therefore wish'd most carefully t' obey. Thus all were then assembled in each town Within their consecrated churches, where li *-| ■J 'I .'.'f ■ ::'0' 104 Removal of the French from Acadia. Before their God they often had bow'd down Deliverance to ask with tear and pray'r. There they had met but not as in the past, This meeting was, on earth, to be their last. XII. '^ Down in the harbor many transports lay Awaiting the AcadL.^s to bear Far from their loved but conquer'd land away To different and distant places, where They might remain, nor e'er again return. Unto each church, now full of boys and men, The soldiery with leaders fierce and stern Came for their captives, just as when The ancient tyrant 'neath the eastern sun Led Israel away to Babylon. XIIL The youths were first on board the transports led Between the weeping and the praying crowd Of those, with whom they had been bom and bred, Invoking blessings, earnestly and loud, Upon the youthful exiles' heads, as they / To leave their lovely native land repair; Nor then allow'd a moment to delay In sailing off— indeed thev knew not where; Their parents, friends and kindred kind And dear Acadia, to leave behind. ^.-- fv . XIV. -• :■ ■ ■^'*-- ./ Soon all the rest in painfiil want of food, With scanty goods, bade Scotia farewell, ' As they embark'd the hostile ships on board, 'Mid griefs, my pen in vain would strive to toll. / ,^ ■i Surrender of William, Walker. 106 These captives then were scatter'd on the ehorei Friendless, along the country far and near, As beggars oft, were they from door to door, Fiom Cape Cod bay down even to Cape Fear. ChiUken from parents far away were left, I While friends were long of dearest friends bereft ... ,j These families thus robb'd of land and home Were from their base oppressors free ; And though for friends they o'er the country roam, They suffer not from cruel tyranny. Thus better far, as strangers in the land, ^ They then among the colonies sojournM, Than 'neath their ruler's domineering hand. By whom they were fore'er despised and spurn'd, Because, forsooth, they had a difTrent way Id which they loved to worship God and pray. ^r 1 SURRi:.NDER OF WILLIAM WALKER. Among the common actions ' Performed by common men, We see uncommon actions Attempted now and then. We've seen an Alexander A world of men enslave; We've seen the great Napoleon ' ^ A hundred battles brave; \, 106 Surrender of William Walker. i ; 1 I i,;-^' f .1 We've seen our nation's freedom Won by a Washington, Who gain'd a crown of glory Although a yeoman's son. But while we view the great deeds Those famous men have done, Names of the unsuccessful Sink in oblivion. ^ ; > There dwelt in Nicaragua, Beneath the tropic sun, A nation rude and simple At peace with ev'ry one. .. Thev welcomed to their borders The merchant with his store, With whom to trade their gold dust For what they wanted more. Thus then arose a commerce. That did in note advance. Until the hawk-eyed Walker Look'd thitherward askance. . (This Walker was a printer Of talent and of skill. Yet better far was fitted , . A soldier's camp to fill ; . , H ence 'twas he left his paper 'Way in the golden state, And went afar for showing ->. ^ That diabolic trait. j / Surrender of William Walker. 107 Then first a chilling horror Each countenance depicts, Just as 'twas with our fathers In seventeen sev*nty-six. A certain dread and terror Makes each one's blood congeal. Such as the simple natives Are sometimes wont to feel. fiut when they view their children And wives they hold so dear, They know not that emotion, Which other men call/ear. The natives they assemble T' obey their chief's command, • Each deeming death a pleasure For his loved father-land. They meet the would-be tyrant To fight for home and all, Displaying Spartan valor, Jjike Spartans, many fall. Th' invader takes their villas By stratagem and skill. Their palaces to plunder. Each patriot to kill. If art assists the ruffian To butcher and to steal, ' « ' Kind nature by her forests Does innocence conceal. ^ ■* * fi if I Wm 1 i ^ A lesson to such heroes And all their brainless dupes. GOLD. Why rush the citizens so fast along, Nfot heeding boistrous winds and howling storm, When famine fierce, nor war the land infests, But perfect peace in ev'ry part pervades? lask'd; a man went brushing by me then, Whose anxious looks uncertain mark'd his face, Nor could I tell, if hope or joy or grief Then most prevaiPd within his latent mind; He turn'd not from his swiftly hastening course. Yet as he went half 'tween a walk and run, I He said, " Gold, Gold should first by all be bought,'' And in an instant he was out of sight. I went within the justice halls and lo, , I saw the Bible kiss'd by many men, Betokening, that the certain truth should come From ev'ry lip that preHs'd the sacred leaf; But different were the stories that they told, Alone because that two contenders sought To gain alas ! the same small heap of Gold, f tlii ^K^ ■ : r.'ii ;. \ 110 Amusements. 1 saw a parricide before a crowd; The hangman's rope was brought upon the stand, Then he was askM, what for himself he'd say ; He bow'd his head with shame and groaning said: " 'Twas cursed Gold alone that brought me here." 1 saw the battle field enrich'd with blood, By Christian neighbors mutually shed ; The one engaged in plundering for Gold^ The other striving to defend her own. I've seen a Christian people legalize The awful crime of buying men to sell Again to stern and hopeless slavery, To labor during life unthank'd, unpaid. Save by the cruel lash of scornful lords. And now three million men, as slaves, are held, £'en in our own beloved and happy land, Whose countless tears and sighs to heaven rise Calling for vengeance from the living God, Who careth for the poor and will avenge Himself upon all those, who dare oppress His children only for the sake of Gold. AMUSEMENTS. When ease and quiet free the mind And work to do we cannot find. Or when our toilsome " task is done Just at the setting of the sun," We seek to fill the vacant space By going to a public place. Where other men are wont to go To hear a speech or see a show m Ammements, 111 To teach the mind or please the eye, E'en as the actors chanced to try ; « Or round the social family hearth With loved ones join'd in guiltless mirth, To read the news of latest date, The changing scenes of church and state, What man's committed heinous sin, What politician's like to win The office, he has sought with zeal ^ For public good or private weal By making speeches night and day From Oregon to Casco bay ; What child is bom, what man is dead ; What's been denied and what's been said ; What youth and maid have sworn to love Each other like the turtle-dove, And thus they join young heart to heart. Which they say death alone can part ; How husband has deserted wife. Each one preferring single life ; With many other curious things. How birds have fins and fish have wings; How men describe the ** spirit land," While boys are making ropes of sand; How men are prophets ; women, men. To preach the Word or wield the pen ; How serpents on their tiptoes walk And oxen learn the way to talk ; How children with their linens on. Their fathers and their mothers, warn The awful wrongs they teach and do. Who never learn to smoke and chew. Yet many, rather than peruse This dusty run of city news, I'!' :!!. ilivli P V m Amusements. Read what the wise and good have done, Who teach that we should hate and shun The way the wicked ever go, Which only leads to death and woe. While others dearly love to pore The poet's pages o*er and o'er, Where they can see the human race Standing before them face to face ; Those that beheld proud Ilium's fall And stood beneath the mighty wall, When Nestor did the Greeks advise, As terror hush'd the piercing* cries Of starving women, wounded men, That dwelt within great Troy then ; And those that felt the earthquake shocks, That rent the mountains and the rocks And sever'd ope the vail in twain. When they, the Son of God, had slain. Thus all agree both young and old. In tropic heat, or polar cold. In poverty or kingly wealth. That for enjoying perfect health In body and immortal mind, These two extremes must be combined ; Let neither all our passions rule, Nor yet th' ascetic laws of school. Which would all harmless sports exclude As vulgar or at least as rude. Nor deign to let the young and gay E'en think of merriment or play ; Since joys of earth are thought to be The Devifs rightful property, Which tend to lead the youth astray. Who thus forget to watch and pray. i I ^^ ill! : Amusements. 113 With them in part we would agree, That of all things, first, piety; That piety, which maketh free - From all the ways of vanity, From sins of earth and woes of hell, To ev'ry grief and pain the knell; That piety which giveth joy And sterling hliss without alloy, t For perfect love admits not fear To make the path to heaven drear ; But now his flock the Shepherd leads r. By gentle brooks and verdant meads ; Hence we would not reprove the child Because he laugh'd or even smiled. Or wish a long face he would wear > ■■; As if oppressed by age and care ; ;^- ' Nor wish that he was deaf or blind. That he might have a purer mind, .% f Not having heard revolting sounds Nor places seen, where sin abounds; Yet rather let his eye be keen To know the right where'er 'tis seen. And let his ears be purged and clear, That he the truth may plainly hear; Then he among things strange and new Can quick discern the false and true; He'll see the wrong and that eschew He'll see the right and that pursue. Because some sports are light and vain, The certain roads to grief and pain, This is no reason to the wise. Why they should raise their hues and cries Against amusements one and all, From bull-fights down to playing ball. 8 I > If" !a 'I h 1 ! I' 114 ^mwemei^. m The man that would in earnest learn The path of virtue true and stern, Must not condemn the good and wise Because a certain villain lies ; Nor let's refuse our fathers' bread Because our fathers all are dead, Nor yet their vices imitate Because they linger'd here so late; But let the living touchstone, Truth, Direct the aged and the youth In wisely choosing what is best. Condemning freely all the rest. All fights of men or beasts for sport, Such as the books of Rome report ^Tween man and beast let from a cage. Are customs of a by-gone age, Which serve to show how savage then Were habits of the mildest men, Whose pleasure and supreme delight Was to behold a bloody fight. Next comes the stage, in Greece 'twas born About three thousand years agone ; There first were seen dramatic plays On all their sacred festive days, When writers would their views impart, Mounted upon a lumber cart. From place to place by oxen haul'd, Wherever they by chance were call'd. The stage soon gain'd the public praise Displaying oft its noted plays, Attended by the choral song Which to the subject should belong. Oft splendid buildings they would raise w Jtmusemenif, 215 In which to hear dramatic plays^ Consisting partly now and then In praise or blame of public men, And soon so insolent became, Not sparing eVn the greatest name^ That laws were passM to stop such plays; Tlius closed the drama of those days* Dramatic plays appearM again Still showing forth the leading men, Their names were changed but mien the same, Which did identity proclaim ^ This custom also died away And then appear'd the modern play, Which far excels the former two i In having namea nor places true ^z ^■^ But fit alike for any case, ;^ ^i *>; ^' At any time or any place. It is a fact none will deny, j < v ; < The drama '11 not for ages die Unless the world shall change its mind And pleasure not in dramas find ; As in the past there'll be refiirm, While fiying ages go and come, And may the day be near at hand, When all the stages of our land Shall as reformers gain the praise Of all, who on their scenes may gaze, That love to have the people know The ways of truth in which to go< A play, that truly shows a man > As art and genius only can, Whose words and look and age agrotf With what we hear and what we 86e^ '!! I- •«;;:l I I jii: m t'i: i «J)- sip H ^ \*ry one forever finds In humble cot and palace hall • Or wheresoever he may call; • ^ ?? ' By this, each one may plainly know, What sports are ill and what not so; All games that chance or cheating sway The man of virtue ne'er should play. While games of skill and exercise Are play'd by both the good and wise, Since they no better way can find To strengthen and refresh the mind. u ■15; ANIMALS IN WINTER. Each valley and each tow'ring hill Is thickly overlaid with snow, While ev'ry little purling rill Along its course forgets to flow* .v Animals in Winter. The robin and the whippowil, That used to sing so merrily, With pleasant notes no longer fill The orchard and the forest tree. The hardy woodcock and the jay . Still linger in the sylvan dale ^ ''' ^And with the sable crow they stayi Unterrified by snow and hail. The fox now sallies from the ledge ' ' To feast upon the farmer's fowl, Raccoons now creep along the hedge With watchful look and dismal howl. - 1: The squirrel perches on a tree ^:^ " Hard by his narrow oaken home, ^^ ' Where he the far off sun may see • From which the rays obliquely come. 117 r t * . -* • The nimble rabbit keeps his path So firmly trod and very glare, That one may think a workman hath Just grooved it out with double care. Though transitory birds have now ' To southern dimes more genial gone, Yet nature kind doth not allow The race of man to be alone. VM I., • ^ •;!' ' I :P tin ^} -!; r. h it iP \... 118 MgM. f I ■ NIGHt. •.f ^'-.f '.■-.J ' The sun is ffone iind darkness fills the land From inland mountains to the sea shore strand;"^ The weary laborer has left his plow And joyous gone to meet his loved ones now. All noise is hush'd, save from the distant vale The shrill notes of the watchful nightingale, That echo back along the little rills E'en to the summits of the verdant hills, Or the low murmVing sounds of growing flow'rs, Which can be heard but in nocturnal hours, When all the earth is closely wrapp'd in sleep And wandVing stars their constant vigils keep. The pale moon glides along the azure skies Just smiling on earth sleepers as she flies, And then among the hosts of heav'n at night She noiseless wings her never ending flight. The anxious watcher, o'er a cherish'd friend At midnight's lonely hour, doUi lowly bend To whisper consolation to the ear Of one so well-beloved and truly dear* Or now to Cfod the watcher turns in pray'r, Imploring his protection and his care For one who lies before death's dismal gate, Which must be pass'd by all, or soon or late; Then passing slowly drags away the night And long delay the rays of morning light, In vain expected by the sleepless eye. While yet the stars so thickly stud the sky. The ship pursues a steady onward track. Jfi^ht* 119 Though gloomy darkness reigns than pitch more black, Propelled not by changing winds and tides, Of both alike regardless on she rides, Nor now as once dependent on the light Of doubtful stars to point the way by night, But by a )>ower of her own she rides. While day and nighty the faithful needle guides. At night in Summer heat, or Winter snow, The light-house kmtern constantly doth glow To warn the stranger that he nears a cape Or rocky island, which he must escape. Along the banks of river, pond and lake, At night the fishermen their fires make To drive musquitoes from their jolly nook And light them as they tend their net or hook.] At night, the time for sweet and calm repose, The villain to his work of darkness goes. Whether to steal one from the grazing flock, Or silent pick the well contrived lock. That guards the treasured mass of shining ore^ Than life itself, by some loved even more, Or slay the dreaming sleeper for the gold. Which 'neath his pillow he has sKly rolled. At night the gentle gales refresh the air And fan the wild beasts sleeping in tbeir lair; While health to man and beast it doth insure By bearing ofT the atmosphere impure. Night is the symbol of death's dismal pall Since each with shade so still and quickly fall, That when unconscious of our vital breath We either rest in sleep, or sleep in death. ;;Hi 1, k ••: 1-. '1 r%-*af.v-^ ik •'. '•'! 120 A Hymn, I 'I ••) ■.V.i > A HYMN. - The Lord my soul shall ever bless For gracious is His name, My tongue shall sing His holiness, V His righteous ways proclaim. The Lord observes the contrite heart Of those, who watch and pray, • Their feet He n%'er will let depart Into the down war "^ way. He guides His people free from fear Along by gentle streams, ReHecting from their bosom clear The light of heaven's beams. ..•^•. y- In vain the Devil sets a snare j In the believer's way, k - Since for His children Gfid will care r By night as well as day. ,, < ■' » •. > God's spirit will direct the meek, Where He would have them go And those that by repentence seek, ; Eternal life shall know; X ,.(:.. .'-i •\ M .'f J.:.-' • .'f While those, that now salvation spurn, Shall one day be abased, When in the Book of Life they learn Theur names have not been placed* Defeat of Mocib. 121 ■ ^'J -r I .1 DEFEAT OP MOAB. Once in that land that lies between The lovely rivers twain, - ; -a ^z A king as proud as oft is seen ^. • With cruelty did reign. His subjects with an iron rod, He sternly then distressed And since they had forgot the Lord All Israel oppressed. For eighteen tedious years- and long They suffered as slaves, They could not sing their fathers' song. There many found their graves. But soon the evils, they had done, Their open'd eyes espied, And with a voice as of but one Unto their God they cried. When they had call'd upon His name Overwhelmed by their grief, He boundless mercy showM to them And sent desired relief. By raising up a Benjamite, Who used his left hand > To bring about a noble deed And free his father-land. I ! !ii Hi Ml n m < •■' ■ 122 Defeca of Modb, Unto the cruel heathen king Young Ehud boldly went, Feigning that ho did presents bring, Which Israel had sent. A two-edged sword hung by his side, A cubit long and keen, Which by his coat he plannM t& hide. So that by none 'twas seen. f •» It happenM just as he had thought: To Eglon he came near * -^ »* And when the king took what he brought He whispei'd in his ear : "A secret great I have, O king, Whbh I must tell to thee." " Tell not," said he, " the news yow bring, But silent follow me." Led he away the'Benjaraite To parlor hal 1 so gay, And there in transport of delight AskM what he had to say. Up rose the gallant patriot, His two-edged sword he drew *' * And as the secret be had brought, , He thrust the tyrant through. '-^ Now then he lock'd the parlor door On that event All day, Leaving the king upon the floor - He safely walk'd away. ^' I ! Lines on the Death of a Child. 133 The trumpets loud the people blew And fought their enemies, Ten thousand Moabites they slew And gain'd their liberties. ri'^* ;■ ',' i< ' i' ■' \ . . :• .-I H LINES WRITTEN ON THE DEATH OF A CHILD. Where »s the child of yesterday? A So fair and blithe and gay ; I hear not more his pealing ''*ngby I see him not at play. I view DO more his lovely eyci '*) His little dimpled cheek, ^-^ I hear no more his gentle cdl, So pleasing and so meek. He's gone away to his long home, With those like him to dwell, 'Mid joys no mortal eye hath seen And that no tongue can telL Weep not or seek to call him back To this sad world of ours, For now he dwells in paradise In tLo celestial bow'rs. The bud, that grows in early Spring And blooms out full in May, Before the Summer rose appears Is withered quite away. ii 5 ' 124 i>. A Psalm of David. So rega] Death call those his own, Who least expect to go, And by what rule he chooses them Immortals only know. Let^s weep not for the darling dear, Who's gone away to rest, But hope that we with him may dwell In the realms of the blest. He needs no more a mother's care, A mother's watchful eye; No sorrows, tears, or pain is there Above the azure sky; Yet one eternal day of peace. Free from all grief and care, ■'■-■ ^ Attends upon all those that dwsU With that dear darling there. ' • ;i.: A PSALM OF DAVID. We'll praise the Lord of Heaven And call upon His name, ,| We'll sing aloud His mercy, , ,vM His holiness proclaim. We'll sing a song of glory , i^' His wond'rous works extol, We'll seek His face forever , • r And on His name we'll call, i A Psalm of David, Ye chosen seed of Jacob, The faithful Israel, '• ^ The Lord is God of heaven, Ye, children by His wilh Remember well His promise — Ye thousand nations hear, His- covenant to Abram, His oath to Isaac dear, 'i u- Though earth and heavens vanish And scatterM flee away. That covenant remaineth ';''*./ Unto the perfect day. He said, " I give you Canaan, Soon to possess and hold," ' He asks not gleaming silver Nor weight of shining gold; ^ But souls unstain'd and humble, Obedient from love /:,?■ welcomed to the mansions Of Canaan's shore above. When ye were few and needy And wandVers in the land. Your weakness He supported And held you in His hand. Extol the Lord ye people Ara let His praises ring — ' ' Salvation to the nations. Go publish it and sing. ^ / 125 f; I [' m in I 'I ■1 >■ -n iiavwiiw^^wv J^a i i! i ] [5 s 126 lAnes on the Death of a Friend. Great is the Lord of glory , i Before dumb idols all, \ He made the earth and heavens To be, but by His calL i •'ji'., LINES WRIT^ GN THE DEATH OP A /RIEND. What makee so many weep to-day ? So many faces sad? Even the very children cry, Who're wont to look so glad. Why speaks each man so slow and grave, When he his neighbor meets? Why hold the friendly hand so long Of one he often greets? Why do the children stay at home^ Who always run to play ? ^ . , And why so solemn and so stiU| > Just like a Sabbath day? What means this train so darkly clad, The aged and the young? What makes them walk so slow along? What fetters ev'ry tongue ? A husband's gene, a father's gone, A neighbor is no more, A gen'rous, noble, Christian friend^ 'Tis he, wh^m all deplore. A H T L '"I A Prayer. ^ A lonely wife is leA in grief To mourn lier bosom friend; Her love and grief will never cease Till earthly cares shall end. Three darling children well-beloved Are orphans lone to-day, Lefl with their fether's cherish'd Iriends, In this cold world to stay. From a widening ring of friends , - , The brightest star's removed, < To shine in yonder paradise With Jesus whom he loved. 127 A PRAYER. Great God, our heav'nly Father kind, Do Thou accept this day The praises we would raise to Thee And teach us bow to pray. Grant us Thy grace in time of need To show the narrow road, That leads from sm to holiness And points the way to God. We know our crimes are manifold And heinous in Thv sight, We've sinn'd against high Heaven's laws In view of Gospel light. % I m m u % i 128 A Song of Praise. We come to Thee, for Thou hast said, " Why will you die my son ? I have no pleasure in thy death Though evil thou hast done." In Jesus' worthy name we come, Who died that we might live And gave His life to ransom us, Which none but He could give. ' Teach us to learn and well observe All that the Bible saith, That we may live a Christian's life And die a Christian's death. A SONG OF PRAISE. Can birds in Spring refuse to sing And give their Maker praise. While they can see, from bush and tree, The goodness of il:s ways? Can humble vines and lofly pines Receivo the Summer shower, ' '■'■ And not their praise of glory raise In evening's silent hour.'' Can sunny field neglect to yield Its verdure ever green, For Him, who gave the rills tliat lave The lovely hills between ? JSTathan Reproveth David. 129 Can mount or vale accept the gale Their guardian angels hring, And not in song, both loud and long, \ The Giver's praises sing ? How, then, shall we in silence be Before our gracious Lord, Who giveth all, both great and small, ^ The blessings of His Word? '. } NATHAN REPROVETH DAVID. There lived a man in ancient times Of riches and of fame. He reigned at Jerusalem, > , King David was his name. It fell upon a luckless day, Just at the eventide. As David walkM upon his house A maiden he espied ; She was a fair and comely maid With blushing cheeks and red. While o'er her shoulders tresses flow'd And roses deck'd her head. ^ ■ r. I ■ This innocent and charming girl Was young Uriah's wife. Who'd gone to fight the Ammonites To save king David's life. 9 m 130 J^aihan Reproveth David, The king beheld, nor could he calm , , His passion^s evil cry, Until a deed of infamy Caird vengeance from ou high. He had betray'd a poor manV trust, His home made desolate, He had before his Qod become A wicked reprobate* Since David tried by artifice To hide his crime in vain, He told his servant Joab Uriah must he slain. Now when Uriah had been slain, King David took the maid, But God beheld his awful crime And vengeance He repaid* The Lord His prophet Nathan sent To say at David'd door: ^ There dwelt two men within a town One rich the other poor. ** The rich man's flocks and countless herds Fiird many a field and stall, While as the poor man's precious wealth A pet lamb was his all; '* This little lamb ate at his board And drank with hintr his water. And on his bosom eenlly lay Like it had been his daughter. Lines on the Death of Henry Clay. 131 " A traveler came from afar Unto the rich man's home, Who sparing all his flocks and herds Did to the poor man come, *' And took by force that little lamb And dressM it for his friend, Unmindful of the sorrow, which The poor man's heart Would rend." King David's anger raged hot Against the heartless one. Who, such an awful, heinous wroftg, Had to hns neighbor done. Then David said, *^ That knave shall die, Oh, name him if you can!" Nathan replied unto the king, " Thou art the very man!" t> ^.' V,i ii II I I lii LINES WRITTEN ON THE DEATH OP HENRY CLAY. Sadness and sorrow's on the nation's brow. The Stars and Stripes are clad in mournings now, Millions in anguish and in grief are bow'd. All tell, that death, the great dead, doth enshroud. The nation mourns a patriotic son. Who by his virtue, her esteem, has won. The boldest in Truth and Freedom's cause ; His peerless honor is a world's applause. ii n 132 Lines on the Death of Henry Clay. The friend of liberty, the wide world o'er, From rich Peru to the Ionian shore ; The orator and chani|>ion for Right, In Freedom's cause, he has fought his last fighi. America, with reason thou canst mourn ; Unto his tomb thy firmest friend is borne; Whose ever brilliant and undying fame Adds greater lustre to thine honor'd name. Long may this patriot's example be The ardent emulation of the free. Traitors and tyrants will stand in dismay. While the world shall remember Henry Clay. i ■'•t^i f ■ '■^ V • / ; '7-' =;■'»■ lk:.> ■alU'1*->»>.'J*'<. 1- V'-!"' i» ■■;i"''< 'j^ <■"■<' '/■'.-* y'r , . -' f »•»: . - \< i. »--■•■. f' ^. >' •' x » % 'I NOTES. Pages, lines. jind what the Major said^ to do forthwith. Major Richard Waldron was slain hy the Penacooks* June 27th, 1689. His illustrious exploits in the severa* Indian wars, during the settlement of New Hampshire » have rendered his name immortal, as a bold and intrepid warrior ; yet the treacherous deed which is the subject of this poem, not only cost him his life, but, will ever re- main an indelible stigma on his else fair faine. Page 7, line 17. Long ere the dauntless Hudson^ ^c. Henry Hudson, when in quest of a north-west passage to India, while sailing along the coast of North America, chanced to run into the Maimattan river, which was after- wards called by his name. ..., : ^ ^ . o.ra.... . - ^. ; Page 12, Ime 28. The stern jSbenaqui urge on their flight. The Abenaqui, also called Saint Francis Indians, dwelt in Canada. ^ r . , Page 21, line 16. ^ " i M the pass ThermopyUe, « The pass of Thermopyl» (^Oate of warm springs,) is ft narrow strait, between mount (Eta and tho sea, leading from Thessaly into Greece. i 134 J^ctes. I ■'■;. Page 31, line 17. LctmidaB had musteredf S^e, Leonidas, son of Anaxandrides^ and descendant of Hercules, was king of the Spartans. Page Sd, line 3. Jind on the boM immortal troopt^ ^c. These troops were called " immortal," because their number was always the same. When one of them fell, his place was immediately supplied by a man chosen from the other forces. Page 23, line 14. ' : {Epialles was hia name.) This Epialtes, or Ephialtes, was induced to betray the Spartans DY the hope of great reward from Xerxes. He, however, irom fear fled into Thessalv, and thence to Anticyra; after which a bounty was offered for his head, and he was killed by Athenades, a Trachinian. Page 24, line 10. Not a Spartan toul was there, . The three hundred were all slain except one. The Greeks erected a monument to commemorate this famous battle, on which were inscribed these words : " Stranger, go tell the Lacedaemonians, that we lie here in obedience to their commands." The law, referred to, allowed no Spartan warrior to retreat—he must conquer or die. Page 42, line 23. Yet now and then like ** Bristol BtW," We f a city poser, find. This notorious burglar, after having committed the most daring robberies In many of the cities of the United States and in London, went to Vermont, where he was arrested, convicted or burglary^ and sent to Windsor prison, in which he still remains. Jfotet. 136 Page 46, line 16. Nor have the nteede of Heliut A moment to demur. Helins, in Greek mythology, was the god of the stm. Page 46, line 21. The Contoocook is a small river in New Hampshire. Page 66, line 6. Some say he*8 bom in Scotia, Dempster says, St. Patrick was born in Sootia Minor, now called Scotland. Page 66, line 7. While others say at Nutria. rrobus states, that his birthplace was Nntria, a district of England, supposed to have been the abode of giants. Page 66, line 8. Or in Rosina gkn, Camden points out the very place of his nativity, near a promontonr in a glen called Rosevale or Eosina, im- porting, a vale qf roses. Page 66, line 9. Some at Kirkpatrick say he's horn. >.-> Usher names the very spot where he was bom, at a place called Kilpatrick or Kirkpatrick, between the castle of Dunbarton and the city of Glasgow. Page 66, line 10. Or Pendod: near the tide. Pendac, or Pepidiauc, is situated in Pembrokeshire, Wales, and is now denominated Menavia or St. David's Head. !>.. i [ • 136 JSTotes, Page 66, line 12. But others say with confidence ^ Tabernia on tfie Clyde, Tabemia u^notes a shed or station, it wi^ situated on the Clyde, a river of Scotland. Page 66, line 17. Jit lovely TourSf SfC. Saint Fiech, Bishop of Sletty writes : wenair Patraic i nem Thur, Asseadh ad fet hi scelaibh. Translated thus : Patrick was born at heavenly Tours, as it is ascertained in histories. This is believed to be the correct version by the most credible historians. Gaul is the ancient name of Prance. Page 66, line 24. O'Sullivan says Soucli, in old French, signifies truncuSf a stock of a tree, and that Souchet is trunculuSf a little stock. Page 68, line 19. Who dwelt in Caledonia ^ S^c. Caledonia, the ancient name of Scotland, is separated from Ireland by the North Channel. Page 69, line 15. ■ ^nd in that weeping captive hand The lad Souchet had come. St. Patrick was of Roman origin, as his father's name, Calphumius, plainly shows, ana since Niall was pursuing the Romans, he was more desirous to take captives of that race. Page 73, line 22. ^ In the Turonian sea, ' Tha Turonian sea was the ancient name of a part of the Mediterranean. JVotes. 137 i Page 76, line 5. In vain did cruel Nathi rage. Nathi was the son of Garchon, king of Leinster, d province of Ireland. ... Page 76, line 13. But when he came to Rath-IribheTy SfC, Rath-Inbher, in Irish, signifies a castle seated on the mouth of a river. Page 76, line 26. Dichu in silence stood, Dichu was the son of Trichem, king of the province of Ulster. Page 77, line 21. * But when his master Milcho heard, S^c. Milcho, the former master of St. Patrick, was prince of Dalaradia. Pago 78, line 10. As far as the Bregian plain. ? . : Bregia, or Mac-Bregh, a spacious pkin extending many Viles about Tarah, was the residence of the monarch. Page 80, line 9. From thence he came to Taken mount. Talten is a mountain in Meath. Here gymnastic exer- cises, instituted by Lugeidh-lam-fadah, twelfth king of Ireland, were celebrated, like the Olympic games in Greece. Page 89, line 9. But since the immortal Kane has been, SfC. Elisha Kent Kane, the commander of the Grinnell ex- pedition in search of Sir John Franklin. k 1 i 1 1 ); ,"■■■, 138 Motes. h Page 94. John Cummings was a resident of the city of Albany at the time of tlie traiisaotion described, which toofc place in the Autumn of 1866, in Betblehem, /.Ibany county, N. Y. Page 96, Ime 21. John taid as he beheld the man, 4*^. The man referred to is Frederick Stumpf, mentioned in the eighth stanza. Page 97, line 9. The Gwemordid save the boy, ifC. This humane and just interference of the Execu'dye was promoted, if not brought about, by the philanthropic exertions of Hon. John I. Slingerland and others. Page 99, line 20. He woutd depart '' to Romey A phrase signifying to kiss every girl pres^it. Page 100. " I know not,** says George Bancroft, in his History of the United States, page 206, vol. iv, " if the asinahof the human race keep the record of sorrows so wantonly in- flicted, so bitter and so perrenial, asfell upon the French inhabitants of Acadia. * We have been true,' they said of themselves, * to our religion, and true to ourselves ; yet nature appears to consiaer us only as the objects of public vengeance.' The hand of the English official seemed under a spell with regard to them; and was never uplifted but to curse them," Acadia was the name given by the French to the peninsula now called Nova Scotia. Page 101, line 29. At length war closed, which was a dismal kneU -^ To fair Acadia, that to Of eat Britain fell. The treaty of U^echt conceded Acadia to Great Britain. 'r>» . Jfotes. 139 Page 106, line 5. Children from parents far away were left. While friends were long of dearest friends bereft. Lest it should seem to the reader incredible, that such barbarous atrocities were committed b^ an enlightened and professed Christian nation, but little more than a century ago, I will again quote the words of Bancroft : " Seven thousand of these banished people were driven on board ships, and scattered among the English colonies, from New Hampshire to Georgia. * * ♦ * House- holds^ too, were separated ; the colonial newspapers contained advertisements of members of families seeking their companions, of sons anxious to reach and relieve their parents, of mothers mourning for their children." Page 121, line 1." Once in that land that lies between The lovely rivers twain. The rivers referred to are Zered and Amon, liicli flow into the sea of Galilee at the extremities of iuc land of Moab, in Syria.