THE, 
 
 , . f /;- f// //< /vvv / 
 
S C WO ODWORTH . 
 
DUETS, TRIOS, SONGS, 
 
 BALLADS, 
 
 PASTORAL, AMATORY, SENTIMENTAL, PATRIOTIC, 
 RELIGIOUS. AND MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 TOGETHER WITH 
 
 METRICAL EPISTLES, 
 TALES ACTD RECITATIONS, 
 
 BY SAMUEL WOODWORTI1. 
 
 THIRD EDITION, 
 
 COMPRISING 
 
 MANY LATE PRODUCTIONS 
 
 NKVRR BEFORE PUBMSHI*.!. . 
 
 NEW-YORK: 
 
 PUBLISHED FOR TTIF, AUTHOR, 
 
 By Elliot $ Palmer, 20 William-si, 
 
 1831. 
 
SOUTHERN DISTRICT OF NEW- YORK, ss. 
 
 BE IT REMEMBERED, that on the thirteenth day of November, 
 
 (L. S.) in the rifly-first year of tlio Independence of the United States of 
 
 America, A. D. J826, SAMUEL WOODWORTH, of said 
 
 Di?frir;t, hath deposited in this office the title of a Book, the right whereof 
 
 he claims ;is Author, in the words following, to wit : 
 
 " Melodies, Duels. Trios, Son?s, and Ballads, pastoral, amatory, patriotic, 
 religious, and miscellaneous. Together with metrical epistles, tales and Re 
 citations. l*y Samuel Woodworth. 
 
 " A/idthou, sweet Poesy, thou loyliest maid, 
 
 Still first to fly when sensual joys invade : 
 
 Thou source of all my bliss, and all my wo, 
 
 Thou found st me poor at first, and keep st me so. * 
 Goldsmith. 
 
 ] n conformity to the Act of the Congress of the United States, entitled, "An 
 Act tor the encouragement of Learnins, hy securing the copies of Maps, 
 Charts, and Books, to the Authors and Proprietors, of such copies, during 
 the time therein mentioned." And also to an Act, entitled, "An Act, sup 
 plementary to an Act, entitled, " An Act for the encouragement of Learn- 
 inar, by securing the Copies of Maps, Charts, and Books, to the Authors and 
 Proprietors of such copies, during the times therein mentioned," and extend 
 ing the benefils thereof to the Arts of designing, engraving, and etching his- 
 
 JAMES DILL. 
 Clerk of the Southern District of Jfew- v~-k. 
 
TO 
 
 GEORGE P. MORRIS, ESQ. 
 
 THIS LITTLE VOLUME 
 
 IS AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED, 
 
 BY HIS FRIEND, 
 
 SAMUEL WOODWORT1 
 

MELODIES 
 
 X...FASTOILA.II 
 
 Music by J. H. Swindells.* 
 
 The moon-beam on the Hudson sleeps, 
 
 While yon enamoured billow 
 Delighted to the stranger creeps, 
 
 And makes his breast her pillow. 
 The rest, with dark and frowning mien, 
 
 And jealous murmurs, languish, 
 While amorous zephyrs pass the scene, 
 
 And sigh with kindred anguish. 
 
 So, when the fair P AS TOR A s smile 
 
 Her favoured LUBIN blesses 
 Who steals a kiss, and plays the while 
 
 With her unbraided tresses 
 The shepherds who have wooed in vain, 
 
 In sorrow doom d to languish, 
 Behold the happy envied swain, 
 
 And sigh with jealous anguish. 
 
 Composed for the Melo-drama of the Widow s Son. 
 1* 
 
MELODIES. 
 
 <ome to tug (Eot 
 
 Air Croos-kccn Lawn. 
 
 I ve a peaceful little cot, 
 In a charming rural spot, 
 
 Far removed from the town s busy hum, 
 Where neither strife nor noise 
 Can molest our placid joys, 
 
 O then hither to my cot will you come? 
 
 To my rural little cot will you come ? 
 O haste, my dearest maid, 
 And enjoy the fragrant shade, 
 
 To my rural little cot will you come? 
 
 The honeysuckle there 
 With its odour fills the air, 
 And the fir lends its fragrant gum, 
 While on every verdant spray 
 Little songsters carol gay, 
 O then hither to my cot will you come .* 
 To my rural little cot will you come ? 
 O haste, my dearest maid, &c. 
 
 Thro the garden, and the mead 
 Where the lambkins play and feed, 
 
 Swells the honey-bee s tuneful hum, 
 While the distant lowing kine, 
 With the waterfall, combine 
 
 To invite vou to mv cot Will vou come 
 
PASTORAL. 
 
 To my rural little cot will you come ? 
 O haste, my dearest maid, 
 And enjoy the fragrant shade, 
 
 To my rural little cot will you come ? 
 
 And when the evening s shade 
 
 Is extending o er the glade, 
 And the woodpecker ceases to drum, 
 
 Then the pensive whipperwill, 
 
 From the forest or the hill, 
 Still invites you to my cot Will you come? 
 To my rural little cot will you come ? 
 
 O haste, my dearest maid, &c. 
 
 Dearest maiden, linger not, 
 Come and share my peaceful lot, 
 
 Far removed from the town s busy hum, 
 For if Eden seem d a wild 
 Until lovely woman smiled, 
 
 O how can I be happy till you come ? 
 
 To my rural little cot will you come? 
 Then haste, my dearest maid, 
 And enjoy the fragrant shade, 
 
 To my rural little cot will you come ? 
 
 Whate cr the charms of mead or grove, 
 In nature s brightest colours drest, 
 
 Of all the flowers that bloom, I love 
 The modest primrose best. 
 
MELODIES. 
 
 jtttlftmacOr. 
 
 Music arranged by E. Riley. 
 
 When blushing Aurora first tinges the east, 
 Arousing the musical choirs of the wood, 
 Inviting the bees to a nectarous feast, 
 
 And the flocks to partake of their dew-sprinkled foot 
 As blithe and as gay as the new- wakened day, 
 I rise and go tripping with milk-pail away, 
 And hark ! the sweet lark, kindly perch d on the sprai 
 Responsively echoes my blithe roundelay. 
 
 The innocent plunder I draw from the kine 
 Is richly repaid in the fields where they roam, 
 
 And a second supply they will gladly resign, 
 
 When evening invites, and they lowing come home. 
 
 Then, cheerful and gay as the first smile of day, 
 
 Again will I trip it with milk-pail away ; 
 
 And hark ! the sweet lark, kindly perch d on the spro 
 
 Responsively echoes my blithe roundelay. 
 
 Ye fair, who seek a splendid lot, 
 Behold content, a richer prize, 
 
 Within the humblest ploughman s cot, 
 That rank and pride despise. 
 
 In palace or cot, whatever your lot, 
 The farmer your table supplies. 
 
PASTORAL. 
 
 Site 
 
 Music by Dames.* 
 
 The morn awakes, in blushes dress d, 
 
 The lambs are all at play, 
 The blackbird quits his dewy nest, 
 
 And carols on the spray ; 
 The milkmaid hails the rosy dawn, 
 
 The shepherd seeks his fleecy flock, 
 The woods resound to the hunter s horn, 
 
 All roused by the village clock. 
 Tick! tick! tick! tick! tick! tick! 
 
 All roused by the village clock. 
 
 The milky herd their stores resign, 
 
 And soon regain the mead, 
 Where cooling shades and streams combine 
 
 To cheer them while they feed. 
 When evening twilight veils the lawn, 
 
 Again the milkmaid trips away, 
 While woods resound to the distant horn, 
 
 At the closing hour of day. 
 Tick! tick! tick! tick! tick! tick! 
 
 At the closing hour of day. 
 
 No more pursue the city s fleeting toys, 
 But seek, in rural scenes, for calmer joys. 
 
 * As sung in tlie pastoral Opera of the Forest Rose. 
 
jO MELODIES. 
 
 of 
 
 Music arranged by E. Riley. 
 
 Arise, my love the sun appears 
 
 To gild the infant day, 
 His golden beam the landscape cheers, 
 And nature smiles amid her tears, 
 
 To greet the morn of May. 
 
 Arise, my love the lilac blooms, 
 
 The blossom d peach is gay, 
 The mead its flowery vest resumes, 
 And freights the zephyr with perfumes, 
 To cheer the morn of May. 
 
 O ! then arise tis love invites, 
 
 Together let us stray ; 
 Thy form, which every charm unites, 
 Shall lend a thousand new delights 
 
 To gild the morn of May. 
 
 Air Cottage on the moor. 
 
 Let others for grandeur and opulence toil, 
 I d share not their turbulent joys if I could, 
 
 The treasure I seek is affection s sweet smile, 
 In a neat little cottage that stands near a wood. 
 
PASTOKAi,. 11 
 
 JFatfter s JFarm* 
 
 Music by Davies.* 
 
 Believe me, if there s aught on earth, 
 
 That can each grief disarm, 
 Tis the sweet spot which gave me birth, 
 When smiling memory paints its worth, 
 
 It is my father s farm. 
 
 For every native rural charm 
 
 Adorns my father s farm. 
 
 Though fancy s flight may mock the bias* 
 
 To seek some distant charm, 
 How soon her eyes are homeward cast ! 
 She roves awhile, but lights, at last, 
 
 Upon my father s farm. 
 
 For every native rural charm 
 
 Adorns my father s farm. 
 
 And now relieved from day s turmoil, 
 Let festive pleasures fill each breast, 
 
 And no intruding sorrows spoil 
 The song and mirthful jest. 
 
 For lords of the soil, and fed by our toil, 
 American farmers are blest. 
 
 * As sung in the pastoral Opera of the Forest Rose. 
 
12 MELODIES. 
 
 Bucfcet 
 
 Air The Flower of Dumblane 
 
 How dear to this heart are the scenes of my childhood, 
 
 When fond recollection presents them to view ! 
 The orchard, the meadow, the deep-tangled wild-wood, 
 
 And every loved spot which my infancy knew ! 
 The wide-spreading pond, and the mill that stood by it, 
 
 The bridge, and the rock where the cataract fell, 
 The cot of my father, the dairy-house nigh it, 
 
 And e en the rude bucket that hung in the well 
 The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket, 
 The moss-covered bucket which hung in the well. 
 
 That moss-covered vessel I hail d as a treasure, 
 
 For often at noon, when return d from the field, 
 I found it the source of an exquisite pleasure, 
 
 The purest and sweetest that nature can yield. 
 How ardent I seized it, with hands that were glowing, 
 
 And quick to the white-pebbled bottom it fell ; 
 Then soon, with the emblem of truth overflowing, 
 
 And dripping with coolness, it rose from the well 
 The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket, 
 The moss-covered bucket, arose from the well. 
 
 How sweet from the green mossy brim to receive it, 
 As poised on the curb it inclined to my lips ! 
 
 Not a full blushing goblet could tempt me to leave it 
 The brightest that beauty or revelry sit)?. 
 
PASTORAL. 13 
 
 And now, far removed from the loved habitation, 
 The tear of regret will intrusively swell, 
 
 As fancy reverts to my father s plantation, 
 
 And sighs for the bucket that hangs in the well 
 
 The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket, 
 
 The moss-covered bucket that hangs in the well ! 
 
 Musw by Davies..., Arranged as a Trio.* 
 
 Here, in scenes of sweet seclusion, 
 Far from bustling towns, we dwell, 
 
 While around, in rich profusion, 
 Autumn s yellow bounties swell. 
 
 There, the loaded fruit-trees, bending, 
 Strew with mellow gold the land ; 
 
 Here, on high, from vines impending, 
 Purple clusters court the hand. 
 
 All the day, to recreate us, 
 
 Strains of music freight the breeze, 
 Healthful sports at eve await us, 
 
 What are city joys to these? 
 
 * As sung in the pastoral Opera of the Forest Rose- 
 
14 MELODIES. 
 
 Air Away with contention. 
 
 Twas noon, and the reapers reposed on the bank 
 
 Where our rural repast had been spread, 
 Beside us meandered the rill where we drank, 
 
 And the green willows waved overhead. 
 Lucinda, the queen of our rustical treat, 
 
 With smiles, like the season, auspicious, 
 Had rendered the scene and the banquet more sweet, 
 
 But, oh! the dessert was delicious! 
 
 A melon, the richest that loaded the vine, 
 
 The kind-hearted damsel had brought, 
 Its crimson core teem d with the sweetest of wine, 
 
 "How much like her kisses!" I thought. 
 And I said, as its nectarous juices I quafT d, 
 
 " How vain are the joys of the vicious ! 
 No tropical fruit ever furnish d a draught 
 
 So innocent, pure, and delicious. 
 
 In the seeds which embellish this red juicy core 
 
 An emblem of life we ^ay view, 
 For human enjoyments are thus sprinkled o er 
 
 With specks of an ebony hue. 
 But if we are wise to discard from the mind 
 
 Every thought and affection that s vicious, 
 Like the seed-speckled core of the melon, we ll find 
 
 Each innocent pleasure delicious." 
 
PASTORAL. 
 
 Cottage 
 
 Music by Swindells.* 
 
 The cottage lass, the courtly dame, 
 
 The child of toil, and slave of fashion, 
 Alike disown the mystic flame, 
 
 Yet feed with sighs the tender passion. 
 Each heart, ere age its fervour chills, 
 
 Is doom d by turns to throb and languish, 
 And prove the thousand nameless thrills 
 
 Of bashful love s delicious anguish. 
 
 But infant love attempts in vain 
 
 To fan the flame with gilded pinion, 
 And quickly bursts the heavy chain 
 
 That ties him down to wealth s dominion. 
 For ah ! that flame but seldom lives 
 
 In breasts with gaudy splendour laden, 
 Nor yields them half the joy it gives 
 
 The bashful, blooming, cottage maiden. 
 
 Air Cottage on the moor. 
 
 The fortune I crave, and I covet no more, 
 Is health, rural pleasures, apparel, and food, 
 
 The friend that I love, and the girl I adore, 
 In a neat little cottage that stands near a wood 
 
 * Composed for the Melo-drama of the Widow s Son. 
 
16 MELODIES. 
 
 Smtle of 
 
 JMusic by 
 
 Is there a light whose effulgence can dry 
 The tear of affliction, and rapture restore? 
 
 Tis the bright sunny ray of a love-beaming eye, 
 The smile of affection from one I adore. 
 
 I d sigh not for grandeur, for fame, or for wealth, 
 But, thankful for little, would wish for no more, 
 
 If blest with a cottage, with friendship, and health, 
 And the smile of affection from one I adore. 
 
 23aitn of tiie 
 
 When the mild star of evening invites to the bower, 
 Where music and mirth are to revel an hour, 
 Dismiss gloomy care, and bid sorrow depart, 
 For innocent mirth is the balm of the heart, 
 
 Every pleasure is fleeting, and hastens away, 
 The fairest blown rose is the first to decay; 
 Then taste of its fragrance before it depart, 
 For innocent mirth is the balm of the heart. 
 
 Quickly hasten then hither, ye youth and ye fair, 
 With eyes beaming pleasure, and hearts void of care; 
 Partake of the joys which our revels impart, 
 For innocent mirth is the balm of the heart. 
 
 * As sung in the pastoral Opera of the Forest Rose. 
 
PASTORAL. 17 
 
 of tfie ^ 
 
 Jli r o hie thee hame, Willie. 
 
 . * *. 
 The pride of the valley is lovely young Ellen, 
 
 Who dwells in a cottage enshrined by a thicket, 
 Contentment and peace are the wealth of her dwelling, 
 
 And truth is the porter that waits at the wicket. 
 The zephyr that lingers on violet-down pinion, 
 
 With spring s blushing honours delighted to dally, 
 Ne er breathed on a blossom in Flora s dominion, 
 
 So lovely as Ellen, the pride of the valley. 
 
 She s true to her friend, and she s kind to her mother, 
 
 Nor riches nor honours can tempt her from duty ; 
 Content with her station she sighs for no other, 
 
 Tho fortunes and titles have knelt to her beauty. 
 To me her affections and promise are plighted, 
 
 Our ages are equal, our tempers will tally ; 
 Oh, moment of rapture ! that sees me united 
 
 To lovely young Ellen, the pride of the valley. 
 
 While flocks and herds in safety feed, 
 The shepherd wakes his tuneful reed ; 
 Or, leaning on his rustic crook, 
 Beneath the shade, beside a brook, 
 Carols the lazy hours away, 
 Till sylvan echoes catch the lay. 
 2* 
 
18 MELODIES. 
 
 Banting 
 
 Music by Dames.* 
 
 Sweet the hour, when, freed from labour, 
 
 Lads and lasses thus convene, 
 To the merry pipe and tabour, 
 
 Dancing gaily on the green. 
 To the merry pipe and tabour, 
 
 Dancing gaily, &c. 
 
 Nymphs, with all their native graces, 
 Swains with every charm to win, 
 
 Sprightly steps, and smiling faces, 
 Tell of happy hearts within. 
 
 Sweet the hour, when, freed from labour, &c. 
 
 Blest with plenty, here the farmer 
 
 Toils for those he loves alone, 
 While some pretty smiling charmer, 
 
 Like the land, is all his own. 
 Sweet the hour, when, freed from labour, &c. 
 
 Though a tear for prospects blighted, 
 
 May, at times, unbidden flow, 
 Yet the heart will bound delighted, 
 
 Where such kindred bosoms glow. 
 Sweet the hour, when, freed from labour, &c 
 
 * Sung in the I astortJ Opera of the Forest Rose. 
 
PASTORAL. 19 
 
 Air Young Henry was as brave a youth. 
 
 Let those whose hearts have learn d to glow 
 With love that ne er can change or vary, 
 
 Permit one pitying tear to flow 
 
 O er the cold grave of hapless Mary. 
 
 She loved, alas ! a treacherous youth, 
 Who feign d to love the artless fairy; 
 
 Too late she proved him void of truth, 
 And death relieved the hapless Mary. 
 
 No more she shines the queen of May, 
 Nor graces more the rustic dairy, 
 
 For ah ! the spoiler bore away 
 The rifled sweets of hapless Mary. 
 
 O then, ye artless nymphs, beware ! 
 
 In trusting faithless man, be wary, 
 And thus escape the fiend Despair, 
 
 That dug the grave of hapless Mary. 
 
 While slaves of ambition sell comfort for fame, 
 Be mine the applause of the wise and the good, 
 
 A conscience that daily acquits me of blame, 
 In a neat little cottage that stands near a wood. 
 
20 MELODIES 
 
 STJie gUrCett. 
 
 Air The sun sets at night 
 
 green was the poplar, when, under its shade, ; 
 
 1 exchanged the soft vow with my shepherdess maid ; 
 But winter soon blighted its sweet summer hue, 
 
 So hope faded when I bade Lilla adieu. 
 
 Be constant, I sighed, till thy Damon return, 
 For still this fond bosom for Lilla will burn ; 
 My heart, like the compass, to love shall be true, 
 She wept, as I rmirnmr d dear Lilla, adieu! 
 
 But doom d was my Lilla another to bless, 
 And doom d is her Darnon to pine in distress; 
 Like leaves of the poplar, which tempests then strew, 
 My hopes were all scattered so, Lilla, adieu ! 
 
 The spring soon return d, and the poplar was drest, 
 
 But peace had for ever forsaken my breast ; 
 
 From the music of nature no comfort I drew, 
 
 For the birds and the streams murmur d, Lilla, adieu I 
 
 * V *v* -*. 
 When, torn by my sorrows, I bow to my doom, 
 
 Will a tear from my Lilla e er fall on my tomb? 
 When the leaves on the poplar are blasted and few, 
 They ll sigh in the breeze, dearest Lilla, adieu ! 
 
PASTORAL. 21 
 
 Air Blue-eyed Mary. 
 
 They sing of blue-eyed Mary, 
 
 Who gathered flowers to sell, 
 But there s a sweeter fairy, 
 
 In Harlem s flowery dell; 
 Whose violets, pinks, and roses, 
 
 Display a richer bloom, 
 Twere bliss to gain such posies, 
 
 And taste their rich perfume. 
 
 The violet s softest azure 
 
 Is swimming in her eye ; 
 The rose s vermil treasure, 
 
 On cither cheek we spy ; 
 The fragrant pink s carnation, 
 
 Its nectar and perfume, 
 In sweetest combination, 
 
 Have dress d her lips in bloom. 
 
 And she has learn d to cherish 
 
 A never-fading flower ; 
 When pinks and roses perish 
 
 Twill still adorn her bower; 
 Its tints will never vary, 
 
 Its fragrance ne er depart, 
 Twill always bloom with Mary, 
 
 Tis planted in her heart. 
 
MELODIES. 
 
 Bashful Slofoer, 
 
 Music by Davies.* 
 
 When bashful Lubin sought my hand, 
 
 My heart his suit approved, 
 But, feigning not to understand, 
 
 I listened still unmoved. 
 For dim, I thought, must burn that flame, 
 
 Which such a check could smother, 
 And sprightly girls are not to blame 
 
 To spurn a bashful lover. 
 
 Poor Lubin told a friend his case, 
 
 Who soon his fears allay d, 
 And bade him wear a bolder face 
 
 He listened, and obey d. 
 Returning soon, with altered mien, 
 
 He might at once discover, 
 That sprightly girls, of gay sixteen, 
 
 Ne er spurn a saucy lover. 
 
 In life s fair morn, when sunshine warm d the scene, 
 And fairy hopes danced o er the laughing green, 
 My infant muse essay d the artless strain, 
 On Charles s bank, or Newton s verdant plain. 
 
 * As sung In the pastoral Opera of the Forest Rose. 
 
PASTORAL. 23 
 
 Tis pleasant, when the world is still, 
 
 And evening s mantle shrouds the vale, 
 To hear the pensive whipperwill 
 
 Pour her deep notes along the dale ; 
 While through the self-taught rustic s flute 
 
 Wild warblings wake upon the gale, 
 And from each thicket, marsh, and tree, 
 The cricket, frog, and katy-dee, 
 With various notes assist the glee, 
 
 Nor once through all the night are mute. 
 
 The streamlet murmurs o er its bed, 
 
 The wanton zephyrs kiss its breast, 
 Bid the green bulrush bend its head, 
 
 And sigh thro groves in verdure dress d ; 
 While Cynthia, from her silver horn, 
 
 Throws magic shades o er evening s vest ; 
 Sheds smiles upon the brow of night, 
 Not dazzling, like day s shower of light, 
 But soft as dew, which mocks the sight 
 
 Till seen to sparkle on the thorn. 
 
 Now sober Pomona has won 
 
 The frolicksome Flora s domains, 
 
 And the work the gay goddess begun, 
 The height of maturity gains. 
 
24 MELODIES. 
 
 X lobe to hear, 
 
 I love to hear the flute s sweet notes, 
 
 On zephyr s balmy pinion borne ; 
 While soft the melting cadence floats, 
 And sighing echoes wake to mourn. 
 Stealing on the raptured ear, 
 At the closing hour of day, 
 Wildly warbling, sweet and clear, 
 Grateful as affection s tear, 
 Then in murmurs die away. 
 
 I love to hear, when blushing morn 
 
 First tips the clouds with rosy hue, 
 The new-waked lark salute the dawn, 
 His matin song of praise renew. 
 Singing as he skims the plain, 
 Or directs his flight above ; 
 Waking all the tuneful train 
 To begin the sylvan strain, 
 Harmonizing every grove. 
 
 I love to hear, when mid-day heat 
 
 With listless languor fills the brain, 
 Deep in some shady, cool retreat, 
 The distant waterfall complain, 
 As it leaps the craggy mound, 
 
 Pouring down the rocky height, 
 Foaming o er the pebbled ground, 
 While it sparkles on the sight. 
 
PASTORAL. 25 
 
 But when with her, whose image dwells 
 
 Within my glowing breast, I stray, 
 The music more divinely swells, 
 
 The lark more sweetly tunes his lay; 
 While beneath the shade we rove, 
 
 Murmuring streamlets sooth the ear, 
 Thro the calm sequestered grove, 
 Echo whispers only love 
 Cupids only hover near. 
 
 or 
 
 Air Sweep Soot, Ho! 
 
 The groves their vernal sweets have lost. 
 
 No blossoms now perfume the gale, 
 The lawns are silvered o er with frost, 
 
 And autumn lingers in the vale. 
 But do the seasons, as they roll, 
 
 Affect the heart with joy and wo ? 
 Can autumn thus depress the soul : 
 
 Or spring elate it ? Yes, or no ? 
 
 The grove again shall yield its shade, 
 
 And vernal sweets perfume the gale, 
 The modest violet deck the glade, 
 
 And richest verdure clothe the vale. 
 But will the flower of hope survive, 
 
 And gain from spring a brighter glow? 
 A smile, sweet maid, would bid it thrive, 
 
 Wilt thou bestow it ? Yes, or no ? 
 3 
 
26 MELODIES. 
 
 STomfc ctf 
 
 Composed by Phillips; also by Clifton; but originally 
 adapted to the air of the Bay of Biscay. 
 
 Where Hudson s murmuring billows 
 
 Kiss Jersey s verdant shore, 
 Beneath those spreading willows 
 
 Sleeps Henry of the moor. 
 The pride of all the plain 
 Was Anna s chosen swain : 
 But Anna weeps, for Henry sleeps 
 Beneath the weeping willow tree. 
 
 They loved with pure affection, 
 Their artless souls were true ; 
 
 The promising connexion 
 Their friends with rapture view, 
 
 And name the morn of May 
 
 Their happy wedding day. 
 But Anna weeps, for Henry sleeps 
 
 Beneath the weeping willow tree. 
 
 They hail the rising morrow, 
 
 Which dawns to see them blest ; 
 But ah ! ere eve, what sorrow 
 Fills Anna s lovely breast ! 
 She sees the Hudson s wave 
 Become her Henry s grave ; 
 And Anna weeps, for Henry sleeps 
 Beneath the weeping willow tree. 
 
PASTORAL. 27 
 
 She tears her flowing tresses, 
 
 Invokes his parted breath, 
 And with her wild caresses 
 
 Invites him back from death ; 
 But ah ! her lip s warm kiss 
 Imparts no glow to his ! 
 And Anna weeps, for Henry sleeps 
 Beneath the weeping willow tree. 
 
 She sees beneath the willow 
 
 Her lover laid to rest, 
 The earth his nuptial pillow, 
 
 And not her virgin breast. 
 Around his verdant tomb 
 The early daisies bloom ; 
 There Anna weeps, there Henry sleeps 
 Beneath the weeping willow tree. 
 
 The noblest talent love can claim, 
 Is never to appear the same ; 
 For tis variety alone, 
 That props the urchin-tyrant s throne. 
 So do the seasons, as they range, 
 Afford new pleasure when they change : 
 The sweetest flower would cease to cheer, 
 Should fragrant spring bloom all the year. 
 
MELODIES. 
 
 JHornfng. 
 
 The blushing precursor of Phoebus expands 
 
 The crystalline portals of light ; 
 And scatters the dew-dripping tints from her hande, 
 
 To crimson the mantle of night. 
 Sleep shakes his soft pinions and soars to the sky, 
 
 With rapture I greet my dear Jane, 
 Whose health-glowing visage and love-beaming eye, 
 
 Aurora but mimics in vain- 
 Good Morning. 
 
 Thy presence to me is the dawning of light, 
 
 And pleasure illumines my breast ; 
 But, ah ! in thy absence, rnorn changes to night 
 
 Hope sinks like the star of the west. 
 Then let us, my fair one, the moments improve 
 
 Which morning allows us for bliss, 
 Let the new-risen day be devoted to love, 
 
 And, in earnest, accept of a kiss 
 Good Morning. 
 
 When evening returns, and in slumber I lie, 
 
 Then fancy the scene shall retrace ; 
 Shall light up anew the soft glance of thine eye, 
 
 And restore me thy blissful embrace. 
 And when thro the lattice Aurora s tints play, 
 
 O fly to the arms of thy swain, 
 With him taste the sweets of the infantile day, 
 
 And hear him repeat, on the plain- 
 Good Morning 1 . 
 
PASTORAL. 29 
 
 Aurora paints the orient skies with light, 
 
 With rosy pencil tinges every cloud, 
 Unfolds her gates upon the rear of night, 
 
 And strips the mountain of its sable shroud. 
 
 The conscious stars conceal their twinkling fires, 
 Night s waning empress turns more sickly pale, 
 
 Her votary the whizzing bat retires, 
 
 The owl suspends her harsh complaining tale. 
 
 The lark awakes and tunes his matin song, 
 And all the sylvan warblers join the theme, 
 
 The whistling ploughman drives his team along, 
 And sporting swans sail stately down the stream. 
 
 The peach-bloom in the breathing zephyr plays, 
 And shakes soft odours from its silken leaves ; 
 
 The apple, too, a silver garb displays, 
 
 Whence morning s breath a rich perfume receives. 
 
 And see ! the ocean sparkles on the sight, 
 What lovely hues upon its surface play ; 
 
 The liquid mirror streams with dazzling light, 
 Reflected from the rising god of day. 
 
 Adieu, dull couch ! for nature more can please, 
 While o er her rich enamel d breast I stray, 
 
 Inhaling sweets which freight the balmy breeze, 
 Stolen in kisses from the lips of May. 
 3* 
 
30 MELODIES. 
 
 Air When poor, the spirits flag. 
 
 When mellow autumn yields 
 
 All her golden treasures, 
 Then those who dress d the fields, 
 
 Partake of harvest pleasures. 
 This, lads, is harvest-home : 
 
 Those who labour daily, 
 Well know tis sweet to come, 
 
 And pass the evening gaily. 
 Then let each heart be light, 
 
 Here s no room for sorrow, 
 Joy holds her court to night, 
 
 Care may call to-morrow. 
 
 Now labour wipes his brow, 
 
 Rest and plenty wait him, 
 Barn, cellar, rick, and mow, 
 
 Are fill d to recreate him. 
 Scythe, sickle, rake and hoe, 
 
 All are now suspended, 
 Like trophies in a row, 
 
 For future use intended. 
 
 Then let each heart be light, 
 
 Here s no room for sorrow, 
 
 Joy holds her court to-night, 
 
 Care may call to-morrow. 
 
PASTORAL. 31 
 
 Now gay Pomona s store 
 
 Past exertions blesses; 
 Rich streams of nectar pour, 
 
 Sparkling from her presses, 
 j^ull goblets, steaming board, 
 
 Crown the farmer s labours, 
 These real bliss afford, 
 
 When shared by jovial neighbours. . 
 Then let each heart beat light, &c. 
 
 , nig treat Jane, 
 
 Air Sweet Home. 
 
 Thro curtains of crimson and azure, my Jane* 
 Infant day, in its cradle, is smiling again ; 
 Its eyelids are gem d with the dew-drops of night, 
 Which glitter and sparkle like pearls in the light. 
 Jane ! sweet Jane ! Awake, my dear Jane ! 
 
 O list to the warblings that float on the air ! 
 The gay feathered songsters are calling my fair ! 
 The blackbird and robin* the linnet and jay, 
 All join with thy Sandy to call thee away. 
 
 Jane ! sweet Jane ! Awake, my dear Jane ! 
 
 The lads and the lasses are all on the green, 
 The shepherds have chosen my Jane for their queen, 
 The May-pole is rear d, and the garlands are twined. 
 And a balm-breathing wreath is for Jenny^ design d. 
 Jane ! sweet Jane ! Awake, my dear Jane ! 
 
33 MELODIES. 
 
 she ICfee me* 
 
 Air Allen a Roan, or Robin Adair. 
 
 say, my flattering heart, 
 Loves she like me? 
 
 Is her s thy counterpart, 
 
 Throbs it like thee? 
 Does she remember yet, 
 The spot where first we met, 
 Which I shall ne er forget, 
 
 Loves she like me ? 
 
 Soft echoes still repeat, 
 
 "Loves she like me?" 
 When on that mossy seat, 
 
 Beneath the tree, 
 
 1 wake my amorous lay, 
 While lambkins round me play, 
 And whispering zephyrs say, 
 
 Loves she like me? 
 
 
 On her I think by day, 
 
 Loves she like me ? 
 With her in dreams I stray, 
 
 O er mead or lea. 
 My hopes of earthly bliss 
 Are all comprised in this, 
 To share hor nuptial kiss, 
 
 Loves she like me ? 
 
PASTORAL. 
 
 Does absence give her pain ? 
 
 Loves she like me ? 
 And does she thus arraign 
 
 Fortune s decree? 
 Does she my name repeat ? 
 Will she with rapture greet 
 The hour that sees us meet ? 
 
 Loves she like me ? 
 
 a Streamlet 
 
 Beside a streamlet, where the whispering reeda 
 And- fragrant flags upon its borders play, 
 
 Where down the valley it meandering leads, 
 My infant footsteps first were taught to stray. 
 
 ThesylvanMuse enticed me to her cell, 
 
 My childish fingers wanton d o er her lyre, 
 
 And, pleased to hear the rustic numbers swell, 
 
 I fondly thought that others must admire. 
 
 So, as I grew, and learn d to sweep the strings, 
 By art directed, though less sweetly wild, 
 
 I envied not the happiness of kings, 
 My lyre was bliss, and I a happy child. 
 
 With fond regret I left that calm retreat, 
 Diversified with meadows, groves, and hills, 
 
 Where nature s charms in sweet disorder meet, 
 With Charles s thousand tributary rills. 
 
34 MELODIES. 
 
 Air The Braes of Balquhither. 
 
 It is sweet, love, to stray, 
 
 When the noon-tide is over, 
 Thro the wind-rows of hay, 
 
 And the white-blossom d clover ; 
 Where each lass may partake 
 
 In the toil and the pleasure, 
 Keeping time, with the rake, 
 
 To the lark s tuneful measure 
 O tis sweet thus to stray, 
 
 When the noon-tide is over, 
 Thro the wind-rows of hay, 
 
 And the white-blossom d clover. 
 
 There the swains cut their paths 
 
 Thro the sections assign d them, 
 Leaving sweet-scented swaths 
 
 Swelling gaily behind them. 
 Tender childhood and age, 
 
 Sturdy manhood and beauty, 
 All with ardour engage 
 
 In so pleasing a duty. 
 O tis sweet thus to stray, 
 
 When the noon-tide is over, 
 Thro the wind-rows of hay, 
 
 And the white-blossom d clover. 
 
PASTORAL. 35 
 
 As the billow of grass 
 
 O er the meadow is driven, 
 By some rose-visaged lass 
 
 Tis divided and riven, 
 When her swain lends his aid, 
 
 And the green hillock rises, 
 Then the half- willing maid 
 
 With a sly kiss surprises. 
 O tis sweet thus to stray, 
 
 When the noon-tide is over, 
 Thro the wind-rows of hay, 
 
 And the white-blossom d clover. 
 
 See the gay romping elves, 
 
 Now the sweet task is over, 
 All amusing themselves, 
 
 On the balm-breathing clover ; 
 There the sv/ain whispers love 
 
 To his heart s dearest treasure, 
 Who affects to reprove, 
 
 While her eyes beam with pleasure 
 O tis sweet thus to stray, 
 
 When the noon-tide is over, 
 Thro the wind-rows of hay, 
 
 And the white-blossom d clover. 
 
 How oft, reclined beside a babbling stream 
 I sang of love a minstrel s sweetest dream, 
 And sang sincerely for I felt the theme. 
 
MELODIES. 
 
 AND SENTIMENTAL. 
 
 A SMILE FROM TZI2E. 
 
 Music by Davies.* 
 
 A smile from thee would banish pain, 
 
 And bid each doubt and sorrow flee, 
 I ask but this, once more to gain 
 
 A smile from thee. 
 I ve sought thee long, with fruitless sighs, 
 
 And were my bright reward to be 
 A tender glance from those soft eyes, 
 
 Twere heaven to me. 
 A smile from thee would banish pain, &;c. 
 
 But ah ! if doom d no more to meet, 
 Whate er my future fate may be, 
 This faithful heart will ever beat 
 
 With love for thee. 
 And when I close a life of pain, 
 
 The gloomy hour of death will be 
 An hour of bliss, if then I gain 
 
 A tear from thee. 
 A smile from thee would banish pain, &c 
 
 * As sung in the pastoral Op-fa of the Forest Rose. 
 4 
 
38 MELODIES. 
 
 THE WREATH OP LOVE. 
 
 Air Lovely JVan. 
 
 Let Fame her wreath for others twine, 
 The fragrant wreath of love be mine, 
 
 With halm-distilling hlossoms wove ; 
 Let the shrill trumpet s hoarse alarms 
 Bid laurels grace the victor s arms, 
 
 Where havoc s blood-stain d banners move ; 
 Be mine to wake the softer notes 
 Where Acidalia s banner floats, 
 
 And weave the gentler wreath of love. 
 
 The balmy rose let stoics scorn, 
 
 Let squeamish mortals dread the thorn, 
 
 And fear the pleasing pain to prove ; 
 I ll fearless bind it to my heart, 
 While every pang its thorns impart 
 
 The floweret s balsam shall remove ; 
 For, sweetened by the nectared kiss, 
 Tis pain that gives a zest to bliss, 
 
 And freshens still the wreath of love. 
 
 Give me contentment, peace, and health, 
 A moderate share of worldly wealth, 
 
 And friends such blessings to improve ; 
 A heart to give when misery pleads, 
 To heal or bind each wound that bleeds, 
 
 And every mental pain remove ; 
 
AMATORY. 39 
 
 But with these give else all deny 
 The fair for whom I breathe the sigh, 
 And wedlock be a wreath of love. 
 
 Connubial bliss, unknown to strife, 
 A faithful friend a virtuous wife, 
 
 Be mine for many years to prove : 
 Our wishes one, within each breast 
 The dove of peace shall make her nest, 
 
 Nor ever from the ark remove ; 
 Till call d to heav n, through ages there 
 Be ours the blissful lot to wear 
 
 A never-fading wreath of love. 
 
 THE 
 
 Music by Dairies.* 
 
 That tranquil brow, and pensive eye, 
 
 Those parted lips of ruby die ; 
 
 Each grace that life and reason give, 
 
 Is kindling here, and seems to live ! 
 
 A playful smile illumes the cheek ! 
 
 Those rubies move! twill speak ! twill speak! 
 
 Twas fancy all ! That senseless bone 
 Could ne er be taught her dulcet tone: 
 No art can teach that eye to move, 
 Those ruby lips are dead to love. 
 Illusive dream ! too soon it flies, 
 The vision fades ! it dies ! it dies ! 
 
 * As sung in the pastoral Opera of the Forest Rose. 
 
40 MELODIES. 
 
 Jllusic lj Davies.* 
 
 The heart sustain d by hope alone, 
 The pains of absence may endure, 
 
 But, ah! when even hope is flown, 
 Its sorrow has no cure. 
 
 Tis then we sigh, where er we roam, 
 
 For our maternal, peaceful home. 
 
 Tho mourning like a mateless dove, 
 The languid heart be doom d to beat, 
 
 It cannot, will not, cease to love, 
 It finds the pain so sweet ; 
 
 Yet heaves a sigh, where er we roam, 
 
 For our maternal, peaceful home. 
 
 TUB BUDDING HOPES. 
 
 The budding hopes which hourly spring, 
 
 While Fancy s bower is young and green, 
 Too often perish ere they fling 
 
 Their viewless odours round the scene ; 
 But, oh ! there s one, which, planted here, 
 
 The heart s red current flows to cherish, 
 And should that blossom disappear, 
 
 The soil it springs from too must perish. 
 
 * As sung in the pastorrJ Opera of the Forest Rose. 
 
AMATORY. 41 
 
 A Polacca Music by Davies.* 
 
 When infant Cupid ventured first 
 
 To spread his purple wing 1 , 
 It chanced he stopp d, to slake his thirst, 
 
 At the pierian spring ; 
 When, rising from the crystal stream, 
 
 A monster caught his eye, 
 Poor Cupid started with a scream, 
 
 But strove in vain to fly. 
 
 To slay the little winged boy 
 
 The dcemon vainly strove, 
 His fangs could wound, but not destroy, 
 
 The son of peerless Jove. 
 He follows still (they never part) 
 
 But vainly vents his ire ; 
 Tho jealous tortures wring the heart, 
 
 Yet ne er can love expire. 
 
 There is a magic harp, whose dulcet tones 
 
 uEolus only has the skill to wake ; 
 Which breathes at night its sweetly-sighing moans, 
 
 If no rude blast the soft enchantment break. 
 He comes, with fragrance on his lucid wings, 
 And fondly stoops to kiss the silken strings. 
 
 * As sung in the pastoral Opera of the Forest Rose. 
 4* 
 
42 MELODIES. 
 
 MUSIC THE IiASTGUAGE OF LOVE. 
 
 Jtfusic arranged by E. Riley. 
 
 Yes, Love can discourse independent of eyes, 
 The pressure of hands, or the breathing of sighs ; 
 Attend, then, its accents, and deign to approve, 
 For MUSIC, dear girl, is the language of love. 
 
 Tis true that the eyes and the lips may impart 
 A counterfeit sentiment, tutor d hy art ; 
 But nought can the pulses of sympathy move 
 Like MUSIC, for that is the language of love. 
 
 The tone of affection is framed in the soul, 
 Tis spirit, unfettered by matter s control ; 
 For what is the language of seraphs above, 
 But MUSIC ? and there tis the language of love. 
 
 Then doubt, dearest maiden, professions and sighs, 
 The glow .of the hand, the expression of eyes; 
 But doubt not the soul s aspirations, which prove, 
 That MUSIC is still the true language of love. 
 
 My gentle Muse on Heliconia strays, 
 Or gaily sports in sweet Pierian bowers, 
 
 And, when descending to inspire my lays, 
 Her airy form is but the breath of flowers. 
 
AMATORV 43 
 
 I LOVE ONLTT THEE. 
 
 Air Believe me-, if all those endearing young charms. 
 
 Believe not the slanders that envy may frame, 
 
 But confess, when the past you review, 
 That tho malice may couple reproach with his name, 
 
 Dear Mary, thy Edwin is true. 
 I will own that my heart flutters gaily, awhile, 
 
 For every fair face that I see ; 
 But tho ever delighted with woman s sweet smile, 
 
 1 love, dearly love, only thee. 
 
 Repine not that festival joys may detain 
 
 Thy lover awhile from thy arms ; 
 For with each sparkling goblet he ventures to dram, 
 
 He whispers a toast to thy charms. 
 I will own that, when friendship and evening invite, 
 
 I join in such revels with glee ; 
 But thy smile can alone give me perfect delight, 
 
 For I love, dearly love, only thee. 
 
 While folly s shrine attracts the fair, 
 Blame not the heaux who worship there ; 
 If gods for you took meaner shapes, 
 No wonder we descend to apes ; 
 Let beauty smile on worth alone, 
 And fops and fools will not be known. 
 
44 MELODIES. 
 
 LOVE S EVES. 
 
 Air Roy s Wife. 
 
 Love s eyes are so enchanting, 
 Bright, smiling, soft, and granting, 
 Pulses play 
 At every ray, 
 
 And hearts at every glance are panting. 
 Before the beamy eye of morn, 
 
 We view the shades of night receding, 
 So tender glances banish scorn, 
 For who can frown while love is pleading? 
 Love s eyes are so enchanting, &c. 
 
 No bandage can those eyes conceal, 
 Tho bards in fabled tales rehearse it ; 
 
 For if he wore a mask of steel, 
 
 Affection s ardent gaze would pierce it. 
 Love s eyes are so enchanting, &c. 
 
 Beware, then, lest some artful elf 
 
 The infant s smiles and armour borrow, 
 To win a throb of joy for self, 
 
 And give his victim years of sorrow. 
 Love s eyes are so enchanting, 
 Bright, smilir ~, soft, and granting, 
 Pukes p>.y 
 At eveiy ray, 
 And hearts e.t eve~y glence are pant ng. 
 
AMATOHY. 45 
 
 LOVE AND 
 
 Air While in camp my soldier lies. 
 
 Sounds of war were swelling wild, 
 
 Fearful notes the bugle blew ; 
 Infant Love, a timid child, 
 
 Trembled at the rat-tat-too. 
 But inspired by Valour s breath, 
 
 Love with war familiar grew, 
 Fearless view d the strife of death, 
 
 Smiled to hear the rat-tat-too. 
 
 Swift a shaft at, Valour s heart 
 
 From the infant s bow-string flew ; 
 Valour heeded not the dart, 
 
 List ning to the rat-tat-too. 
 Yet that dart was tipp d with red, 
 
 Ella s heart-blood lent the hue ; 
 But in vain had Ella bled, 
 
 Valour loved the rat-tat-too 
 
 Through the camp the infant stray d, 
 
 Hope receding now from view ; 
 Secret griefs his sighs betray d, 
 
 Mingling with the rat-tat-too. 
 Valour will not yield to Love, 
 
 Hope to Ella bids adieu ; 
 Sad, desponding, widow d dove, 
 
 Listless to the rat-tat-too. 
 
46 MELODIES. 
 
 ZiOVE S LEGEH. 
 
 JLir~My ain kind dearie. 
 
 1 own myself your debtor, love, 
 
 For tis to you my bliss I owe, 
 Then say if I d not better, love, 
 
 Repay the balance kiss I owe ? 
 In justice you ll receipt it, love, 
 
 And prove that you are true to me ; 
 If I should then repeat it, love, 
 
 There ll be a balance due to me. 
 
 That little urchin Cupid, love, 
 
 The only clerk we keep, you know, 
 Is either blind or stupid, love, 
 
 And apt to fall asleep, you know. 
 Tis best, then, thus to jog him, love, 
 
 And make him earn his pay, you know; 
 For, should we chide or flog him, love, 
 
 The boy might run away, you know. 
 
 The rogue possesses talents, love, 
 
 His pinions furnish quills, you know, 
 And when he strikes a balance, love, 
 
 He must inspect our bills, you know. 
 Then let us ne er dispute, my love, 
 
 While Time enjoyment rifles so, 
 But take a kiss to boot, my love, 
 
 I cannot stand on trifles so. 
 
. 
 AMATORY. 47 
 
 Short reck nings make long friends, my love, 
 
 Accounts should ne er be running so, 
 Then let us make amends, my love, 
 
 For tis unpleasant dunning so. 
 Through life s allotted term, my love, 
 
 If thus we don t forget we owe, 
 When death dissolves the^rm, my love, 
 
 We ll pay the only debt we owe. 
 
 A KISS. 
 
 Music by Dames. 
 
 Does Eliza remember, ere fashion had taught her 
 To lend the heart s impulse hypocrisy s guise, 
 
 How oft, in our plays, to my bosom I caught her, 
 And wonder d a touch could so brighten the eyes ? 
 
 Familiar to me is the sweet recollection, 
 I well can remember the thrill and the glow, 
 
 The flush and the smile that illumed her complexion, 
 Like the first ray of morning reflected on snow. 
 
 And I ask d what it was that the senses thus raptured, 
 And bade through my pulses such ecstacies roD, 
 
 The charm which reflection bewildered and captured 
 A KISS was the answer it melted my soul. 
 
48 MELODIES. 
 
 TO SOMEBODY. 
 
 Jtfusic by Davies. 
 
 Oh I shall ne er forget the spot 
 
 Where smiles of joy were wont to greet me, 
 Where ardent hearts dissembled not, 
 
 But bounded with delight to meet me. 
 Though rugged winter held his sway, 
 
 And all without was cold and dreary, 
 Yet, warmed by beauty s melting ray, 
 
 I thought the season bright and cheery. 
 
 But doom d, alas! too soon to part, 
 
 And wander far from love and beauty, 
 I felt a winter in my heart, 
 
 And cheerless seem d the path of duty. 
 I dragg d along the heavy way 
 
 A lengthen d chain that made we weary, 
 While Hope refused one glimmering ray 
 
 To light a scene so dark and dreary. 
 
 But see ! at length stern winter flies, 
 
 A brighter season glows before me, 
 The summer radiance of those eyes 
 
 Shall yet to life and joy restore me. 
 Till then, let retrospection feed 
 
 The flame which smiling hope should cherish, 
 For, oh ! how this poor heart would bleed, 
 
 Should thine permit that flame to perish. 
 
AMATORY. 
 
 THE 
 
 A Scotch Air. 
 
 I would a garland twine, my love, 
 
 But nature s flowers decay, 
 And ah ! that brow of thine, my love, 
 
 Deserves a fadeless bay. 
 But song shall crown thee, listen! 
 
 And let those eyes of fire 
 With approbation glisten, 
 
 Thy minstrel to inspire. 
 
 Tis not exterior charms, my love, 
 
 That faultless shape and face, 
 Those pearly polished arms, my love, 
 
 That air of witching grace 
 But tis those mental treasures, 
 
 Which few, alas ! can claim, 
 By which the poet measures 
 
 Thy beauty, wit, and fame. 
 
 Time dims the brightest eye, my love, 
 
 That form will lose its grace, 
 That cheek its vermil dye, my love, 
 
 And age will mark the face ; 
 But virtue, love, and duty, 
 
 Retain immortal bloom, 
 Survive the wreck of beauty, 
 
 And decorate her tomb. 
 5 
 
50 MELODIES. 
 
 TO XCST WIFE. 
 
 JLir London s bonny woods and braes. 
 
 Nay, my all of joy that s left, 
 
 Droop not thus in gloom, Lydia; 
 Though each flower of hope be cleft, 
 
 Other buds will bloom, Lydia; 
 Never of the future borrow 
 Though another storm of sorrow 
 Rifle every leaf to-morrow 
 
 From the thorny stem, Lydia, 
 Let us with unshaken mind, 
 Yield such toys, and be resign d, 
 And, if nought but thorns we find, 
 
 Make a toy of them, Lydia. 
 
 Fortune must be blind indeed, 
 
 We mistake her powers, Lydia, 
 Else could love unheeded plead ? 
 
 Faithful love, like ours, Lydia? 
 Let us, then, her gifts disdaining, 
 Without murmur, or complaining, 
 Or the will of Heaven arraigning, 
 
 Fix our hopes above, Lydia ; 
 Though, while we are pilgrims here, 
 Poverty may press severe, 
 Yet we shall, through life, my dear, 
 
 Still be rich in love, Lydia. 
 
AMATORY. 51 
 
 Droop not, dearest God is kind 
 
 When he seems severe, Lydia; 
 Blessings yet remain behind 
 
 Which we hold most dear, Lydia : 
 Innocence, the soul s best treasure, 
 Mutual faith, disdaining measure, 
 Love, and its appendant pleasure, 
 
 What can these destroy, Lydia? 
 These are ours with these endued, 
 Nought should check our gratitude 
 To the source of every good 
 
 Mortals can enjoy, Lydia. 
 
 THE CTOSEGAT. 
 
 Here the rose and lily, twining 1 , 
 Her enchanting face bespeak ; 
 
 For the sweetest hues, combining, 
 Decorate her lovely cheek. 
 
 In this blushing pink that deck d her, 
 Glows an emblem of her lip, 
 
 Both distilling purest nectar, 
 Both inviting mine to sip. 
 
 In this violet I discover 
 Her sweet eye s cerulean hue, 
 
 Like the star of love, above her, 
 Sparkling in etherial blue. 
 
52 MELODIES. 
 
 TELH SIGH. 
 
 A French Mr. 
 
 Softly stealing from her breast 
 Ere its lovely keeper knew, 
 Forth a sigh emerging flew : 
 
 I received the trembling guest, 
 Thrilling in my raptur d ear, 
 
 Sinking on my heart to rest, 
 With ecstatic throbbings dear. 
 
 Ah ! dear Mary, luckless fair, 
 You perceived its flight too late : 
 
 Guard such tell-tale rogues with care ; 
 
 For the tidings which they bear 
 Cast the colour of our fate. 
 
 Think you what it told my heart ? 
 
 Twas the messenger of peace, 
 
 Bidding every doubt to cease, 
 Every sorrow to depart ; 
 
 Twas the olive-bearing dove 
 Guiding hope into the ark ; 
 
 Twas the harbinger of love, 
 Flitting from that warm recess 
 
 Where thy thoughts in secret dwell : 
 What thy lips would ne er confess, 
 Though thy suppliant sure to bless, 
 
 This sweet fugitive will tell. 
 
AMATORY. 
 
 Hark ! it whispers to my heart 
 
 " Hence with every servile fear ; 
 
 Hope alone may revel here ; 
 Doubt and cold distrust, depart. 
 
 Her s as it responsive heaves, 
 Shall confess the urchin s dart 
 
 Rapture with the anguish leaves." 
 Tell me not I dream of bliss, 
 
 If I do, still let me sleep, 
 Snatch me not from joy like this 
 The reality to miss ; 
 
 Never wake a wretch to weep. 
 
 I SIGH WOT FOR GLORY. 
 
 I sigh not for glory to dazzle the crowd, 
 I ask not for fortune to strut with the proud, 
 I covet no title of any degree, 
 Except, my dear Rosa, a title to thee. 
 But yet if the fates have unkindly ordain d, 
 That these must be mine ere thy hand is obtain d, 
 Inspir d by the smiling young hopes which I cherish, 
 I ll ask them, and win them, dear Rosa, or perish. 
 
 Yes, love has its sorrows, but who would refuse em, 
 
 So mingled with rapture and joy? 
 What mortal the rose would discard frorp his bosom 
 
 For fear that its thorns might annoy? 
 
 5* 
 
54 MELODIES. 
 
 THE REPULSE. 
 
 Air Maggie Lander. 
 
 When first I sought my Lydia s love, 
 
 I talk d of flames and rapture ; 
 And with unceasing ardour strove 
 
 Her gentle heart to capture. 
 "I ll quit the world if I m denied," 
 
 I said without reflection ; 
 " If you think best," the fair replied, 
 
 " I ve not the least objection." 
 
 " Hard-hearted girl ! for your embrace, 
 
 " To dastard fear a stranger, 
 " Arabia s desert sands I ll trace, 
 
 " And laugh at every danger ; 
 " Or scale the Andes steepest side, 
 
 " To merit your affection!" 
 "As you think best," she still replied, 
 
 "I ve not the least objection." 
 
 " Can nothing move you? is he doom d 
 
 " To years of gloom and sorrow, 
 " Who fondly thought you would have bloom d 
 
 "His lovely bride to-morrow? 
 "My family, with joy and pride, 
 
 "Expect the blest connexion." 
 "As you think best," she smiling cried, 
 
 " I ve not the least objection." 
 
AMATORY. 58 
 
 GIVING- AND RECEIVING. 
 
 Music by Swindells. 
 
 The suppliant departed, while gratitude s tear 
 In his joy-beaming eye was suspended; 
 
 My heart bounded light, for my Lydia was near, 
 Who thus the donation commended : 
 
 " The bosom which softens at Misery s wound, 
 
 And proffers the balsam to heal him, 
 With the glow of contentment must joyfully bound, 
 
 And such is the breast of my Selim." 
 
 " But which," I exclaim d, as the fair one I press d, 
 While her eye with affection was brighten d, 
 
 "Receiver, or donor, which think you most blest? 
 Whose joy by the action most heightened ?" 
 
 " The being, she answer d, you saved from despair, 
 
 Who tastes, by the sudden reversion, 
 Of exquisite bliss a proportionate share, 
 
 To the depth of his recent immersion." 
 
 Her answer was sweeten d with love s nectar d kiss, 
 And my breast with the transport was heaving, 
 
 As I own d, with a sigh, that tho giving was bliss, 
 It was faint to the joy of receiving. 
 
5 MELODIES. 
 
 TO B1ARIA, 
 
 Awake again thy witching lyre, 
 Its tones have slept too long ; 
 But thy sweet touches, dear Maria, 
 Can call a spirit from the wire, 
 With eyes of light and lips of fire 
 O wake him into song. 
 
 Why should the sweetest gift of Jove 
 
 In useless silence lie, 
 
 When thou canst make it speak and move, 
 To charm our grief, inspire our love, 
 And raise our thoughts to things above, 
 
 Why, sweet Maria why ? 
 
 Why brood o er past affliction s smart, 
 
 With sad and tearful eye, 
 When thine is the bewitching art, 
 The sweetest rapture to impart, 
 And kindle joy in every heart, 
 Why, loved Maria why ? 
 
 Tho parting was painful, the wound it inflicted 
 Will soon be forgot in the glow of a kiss ; 
 
 Tho grief on the visage has oft been depicted, 
 The tear shall soon glisten a tribute of bliss. 
 
AMATORY. 57 
 
 AND DTD Z UPBRAID TO17? 
 
 * 
 
 Air And has she then fair d in her truth? 
 
 And did I upbraid you, my love ? 
 
 pardon a fault I deplore ; 
 
 For while you thus sweetly reprove, 
 
 1 feel I can never doubt more. 
 
 No no no I shall never doubt you more. 
 
 I own I suspected your truth, 
 
 And envied a rival s success ; 
 For jealousy pictured a youth 
 
 Whom pity would prompt you to bless. 
 Whom pity pity pity would prompt you to bless. 
 
 And did I upbraid you, my love ? 
 
 pardon a fault I deplore ; 
 
 For while you thus sweetly reprove, 
 
 1 feel I can never doubt more. 
 
 No no no I shall never doubt you more. 
 
 My doubts I now give to the wind, 
 
 For Mary is constant and fair, 
 Though lately I thought her unkind, 
 
 And gave myself up to despair. 
 Despair despair despair and gave myself up, &c. 
 
 And did I upbraid you, my love ? 
 O pardon a fault I deplore, &c 
 
58 MELODIES. 
 
 AND THE PASSIONS. 
 
 The stranger awoke, and with wonder survey d 
 The unexplor d regions on which she was thrown: 
 
 Rude Chaos the scene and the infantile maid 
 Was Nature, just risen from sources unknown. 
 
 Her form, the fair abstract of Infinite thought, 
 The unblemish d model of harmony moved; 
 
 Her accents the spirit of melody taught, 
 
 Her smile was celestial and Heaven approved. 
 
 JBut scarce could the infant existence admire, 
 
 When hosts of rude demons encounter d the child, 
 
 Revenge and rough Anger, with optics of fire, 
 And frenzy-struck Terror, shriek d horribly wild. 
 
 Attended by Rapine, fell Murder appear d, 
 Led onward by Avarice, Malice, and Hate; 
 
 Their snaky crests Envy and Jealousy rear d, 
 As blood-stain d Ambition tore laurels from fate. 
 
 This phalanx of fiends, with Despair in their >ain, 
 With scourges of scorpions the infant assail d, 
 
 And pitiless heard the sweet stranger complain, 
 Deep deluged in sorrow which nothing avail d. 
 
 Compassion beheld and to regions above, 
 In the incense of sighs, her petition convey d^; 
 
 Infinity heard, and the answer was LOVE, 
 Who came in the garb of an angel array d. 
 
AMATORY. 59 
 
 Her presence made cruel Ambition depart, 
 
 Hate, Murder, and Rapine, the goddess confessed ; 
 
 Her touch palsied Malice, and blunted his dart, 
 And even lank Avarice opened his breast. 
 
 She spoke and Revenge was subdued by the charm ; 
 
 She smil d and the scene was deserted by Fear ; 
 She sigh d and pale Jealousy fled with alarm ; 
 
 She wept and rough Anger dissolved in the tear. 
 
 Her magic the vulture transform d to a dove, 
 And Nature again was delighted and blest 
 
 Thus each ruder passion is subject to Love, 
 The genius that tempers and governs the rest. 
 
 X HAD A. 
 
 Air Ye banks and braes of bonnie Doon. 
 
 I had a lyre when hope was young, 
 But twas the plaything of a child ; 
 
 Of LOVE I then delighted sung, 
 
 And swept its chords with transport wild. 
 
 But now its tones I cannot swell, 
 Its spirit and its voice have fled, 
 
 That lyre is but a tuneless shell, 
 
 For I have sold its chords for BREAD. 
 
60 MELODIES. 
 
 THE REEZSTIXTG, 
 
 I saw them meet the pangs of absence o er, 
 And MEMORY holds a picture of the place : 
 
 Twas at the threshold of her cottage door, 
 ELIZA met her husband s warm embrace. 
 
 How animated shone her eager eye, 
 
 Where joy s delicious tear suspended hung ! 
 
 Her bosom heaved but pleasure rais d the sigh ; 
 
 Her voice was mute but bliss had seal d her tongue. 
 
 Press d in his arms, the chaste connubial kiss 
 Her ruby lips by turns received and gave ; 
 
 Then, as ashamed of the excessive bliss, 
 Affection s blush she bids his bosom save. 
 
 But recollection whisper d yet a joy 
 
 Twas hers to give ; and from the trance she starts, 
 Puts in his arms their little infant boy, 
 
 Love s precious pledge, that closer binds their hearts. 
 
 While round their sire the elder prattlers cling ; 
 
 Beg for a kiss ; their little tales recite ; 
 Each emulous some trifling boon to bring, 
 
 And share their parents unalloy d delight. 
 
 Forgotten now is separation s smart, 
 
 Or but remember d as the zest of joy ; 
 Her smiles are sunshine to his gladden d heart, 
 
 Which love-created fears no more annoy. 
 
AMATORY. 61 
 
 So, wrapp d in night, the lonely pilgrim views 
 AURORA, blushing, throw her veil aside ; 
 
 And, fill d with joy, his lighted path pursues, 
 Whence erst bewildered he had wander d wide. 
 
 And is it joy that fills my eye ? I cried 
 Ah, no ! regret, that such was not my lot; 
 
 But yet to envy twas so near allied, 
 I blush d and sighing, left the happy spot. 
 
 A DRSA3VI. 
 A Polish Air. 
 
 O stay, sweet vision ! lovely phantom, stay ! 
 
 And longer bless me with thy mimic show ; 
 Ah ! fade not thus to empty air away, 
 
 And leave a wretch awake to real wo. 
 
 And did I dream ? Oh ! twas a dream so sweet, 
 So full of bliss, that heaven had lost its charms; 
 
 And I embraced the dear delusive cheat, 
 Then woke, and found despair within my arms. 
 
 Joy s sparkling goblet seems to overflow, 
 Her banquet now with tempting sweets appears; 
 
 But, ah ! I wake to quaff the cup of wo, 
 Drink deep of grief, and feast upon my tears. 
 6 
 
6$ MELODIES. 
 
 THE SMILE OF LOVE. 
 
 Air Hail to the Chief. 
 
 YES, there s a light whose effulgence can brighten 
 
 Grief s gloomy aspect with sparkles of joy, 
 Chase from the heart which its splendours enlighten 
 
 Each sombre care that presumes to annoy. 
 Pure are its rays, as the dawn s first reflection, 
 
 Grateful as sunbeams when tempests are o er, 
 O tis the smile of an artless affection, 
 
 Beaming from eyes and a heart we adore. 
 Dark fate may vainly lower, 
 O er hope s enamelled bower, 
 The smile of affection each cloud will remove, 
 That warm celestial ray melts cloudy care away, 
 Earth has no charm like the sweet smile of love. 
 
 While thro this life s dusky vale we are straying, 
 
 Press d by misfortune, and harass d by fears, 
 Sighing o er pictures of fancy, decaying 
 
 Sprinkling our path-way with unheeded tears, 
 Be but the lustre of Love s radiations 
 
 Shed o er the scene, and its terrors will cease, 
 Sighs will be changed into joy s aspirations, 
 Tears be converted to dew-drops of peace. 
 Bright beam of heavenly bliss ! 
 Earth has no charm like this, 
 Tis the reflection of light from above ; 
 When first we feel the ray, how sweet the pulses play I 
 Earth has no charm like the sweet smile of love. 
 
AMATORY. 63 
 
 TO MISS M, H. 
 
 Air As pensive I thought on my love. 
 
 I heard a sweet strain in the grove, 
 
 And listen d with breathless delight : 
 " As pensive I thought on my love, 
 
 " The moon on the mountain shone bright." 
 When torn from the arms of her swain, 
 
 In circles of splendour to move, 
 Sweet FATIMA thus would complain, 
 
 As pensive she thought on her love. 
 
 A palace for her had no charms, 
 
 Unshared by the youth she adored ; 
 But press d in her loved SELIM S arms, 
 
 A cottage true bliss could afford. 
 Then should fickle Fortune ordain, 
 
 Your SELIM from hence to remove, 
 Will you, while you warble that strain, 
 
 Bestow a fond thought on your love ? 
 
 Some seraph will waft me the sound, 
 
 And whisper the joy to my heart ; 
 Though absence must cruelly wound, 
 
 I ll listen, forgetting its smart. 
 Then grant that such joy I may find, 
 
 Should fate ever tear me from thee ; 
 For me let the strain be design d 
 
 Be FATIMA only to me. 
 
64 MELODIES. 
 
 HARRIET S FAVORITE POEMS. 
 
 When I survey my Harriet s speaking face, 
 
 The smiles that light, the tears that fill her eyes, 
 
 The frown of anger, or the rose s grace, 
 I view the Seasons m succession rise. 
 
 When a glance of affection her optics impart, 
 
 The Pleasures of Hope are alive in my heart. 
 
 Lost in the theme, while bending o er her lyre, 
 She wakes the tones which fascinate the soul, 
 
 I view the Minstrel that I most admire, 
 And list in rapture while her numbers roll. 
 
 When, absent, I yield to reflection s sweet power, 
 
 The Pleasures of Memory shorten the hour. 
 
 If she, with fondness, chide my ardent kiss, 
 And, with a soft ning smile, forbearance ask, 
 
 Or bid me, with a frown, forego the bliss, 
 I bow submission, but neglect the Task. 
 
 For should she condemn me the bliss to forego, 
 
 In the Grave would I seek for an end of my wo. 
 
 When Fancy through her own creation strays, 
 To promised joy delighting still to cling, 
 
 From her alone, my glowing bosom says, 
 The Pleasures of Imagination spring. 
 
 But when Curiosity rises to vex, 
 
 Then Paradise Lost I impute to the sex. 
 
AMATORY. 65 
 
 I told her thus when, in her snowy arms, 
 My yielding form the angel gently strain d, 
 
 And I, bewilder d with a maze of charms, 
 Sigh d in her ear tis Paradise Rcgairid ! 
 
 Retired from elysium, the scene to retrace, 
 
 My Night Thoughts re-pictured the tender embrace. 
 
 TO ISABELLA. 
 
 Air The Braes o Glenifer. 
 
 The world is no longer the desert I deem d it, 
 
 While clouds of affliction had veil d it in gloom, 
 For the promise of Hope though I lightly esteem d it, 
 
 For once has been faithful, and dress d it in bloom. 
 The eye of pure friendship is lighted to bless me, 
 
 And Love O the truest of hearts is my own ; 
 E en Fame grows propitious, and deigns to caress me, 
 
 All smile on the minstrel, but Fortune alone. 
 
 Pure friendship it beams from the eye of Mabella, 
 
 The angel of mercy, and daughter of song ; 
 It lights up a zenith so brilliantly stellar, 
 
 I spurn the dull planet to which I belong. 
 But, ah ! should a cloud rise again to obscure it, 
 
 Exhaled in the malice of Calumny s breath, 
 The sensitive pulse of my heart would endure it 
 
 A moment and then find a refuge in death. 
 6* 
 
66 MELODIES. 
 
 THE VOYAGE OF LIFE, 
 
 MrTweed Side. 
 
 Embark d on the ocean of life, 
 
 I steer d for the haven of bliss ; 
 But thro passion s tempestuous strife, 
 
 My reck ning was ever A-MISS. 
 Near Pleasure s enchanted domain 
 
 I plunged in a whirlpool of care, 
 Encounter d the breakers of pain, 
 
 And struck on the rocks of despair. 
 
 Afloat and refitted once more, 
 
 The chart of experience my guide, 
 Hope points to the far-distant shore, 
 
 Her smile bids the tempest subside. 
 No breakers or quicksands I fear, 
 
 While honour stands firm at the helm ; 
 By the compass of reason I ll steer 
 
 To Joy s delectable realm. 
 
 Stern Virtue the port may blockade, 
 
 Yet Hymen will sanction my right, 
 And his torch, like a pharos, shall aid 
 
 To moor in the stream of delight. 
 Then, then, may the genius of love, 
 
 An eternal embargo declare, 
 I ll never evade it, by Jove ! 
 
 Nor traffic in contraband ware. 
 
AMATORY. C7 
 
 THE GAMUT. 
 
 Air Of a? the airts the wind can blaw. 
 
 The demon care constraint to smile, 
 
 When matchless Ida sings, 
 Repents that he my lyre should spoil, 
 
 And gives me back its strings ; 
 So Orpheus lay, (as poets dream d) 
 
 With like resistless spell, 
 Subdu d the Fates, and thus redeem d 
 
 Eurydice from hell. 
 
 Once more I ll tune this shell so dear, 
 
 And stretch its wires again, 
 Till A awake with accents clear, 
 
 And breathing B complain. 
 The C shall sound serene and free, 
 
 The D with danger toy, 
 While fiery wild erratic E, 
 
 Shall light the torch of joy. 
 
 The F give love and feeling scope, 
 
 But G with grief shall wail, 
 For H, the aspirate of hope, 
 
 Comes not within the scale. 
 Tis done ! my lyre shall wake again, 
 
 While lovely Ida sings, 
 For twas her sweet resistless strain 
 
 Redeem d the minstrel s strings. 
 
68 MELODIES. 
 
 TO ESAHIIIET. 
 
 Air Kate of Aberdeen. 
 
 I own I chid the plaintive strain, 
 
 Nor wish d the muse to weep; 
 But I recall a thought so vain, 
 
 If Harriet s lyre must sleep. 
 What though its tones are sorrow s sighs, 
 
 Tis bliss those tones to hear ; 
 And should thgy drown the listener s eyes, 
 
 They still would charm his ear. 
 
 Then, Harriet, tune thy " simple lyre," 
 
 And sing of blessings fled, 
 While such extatic joys its wire 
 
 On other hearts can shed. 
 Yes, still with sorrow s lay alarm, 
 
 Be Penserosa still, 
 For if thy tones of grief thus charm, 
 
 Thy notes of joy would kill. 
 
 TO 3VE. 
 
 And may I hope ? thou kind one, oh ! 
 
 Can joy so great be mine? 
 I d pass a thousand years of wo, 
 Nor think the minutes travel? d slow, 
 
 Might I, at last, be thine. 
 
AMATORY. C9 
 
 And may I hope ? What rapture waits 
 
 On that auspicious word ! 
 Now do your worst, ye envious fates, 
 The sentence which my soul elates, 
 
 Attesting angels heard. 
 
 And may I hope ? Then I am blest, 
 
 That word expels despair, 
 Removes each sorrow from my breast, 
 With every doubt that dare molest, 
 
 And plants an Eden there. 
 
 And may I hope ? Then fancy may 
 
 Foretaste the nuptial kiss, 
 In promised rapture revel gay, 
 An antepast of that sweet day, 
 
 Which consummates my bliss 
 
 TO ZORA1TD.A. 
 
 Ah, why, sweet minstrel ! why wish me to soar 
 Beyond the limits of my humble sphere ? 
 
 Why bid me ape the thunder s awful roar, 
 And swell the train in madd ning war s career ? 
 
 Forbear, dear girl ! to urge the strange request, 
 I cannot rouse my milky heart to rage ; 
 
 Then let me lull the timorous bird to rest, 
 Or feel it dance with pleasure in its cage. 
 
70 MELODIES. 
 
 TO CAROLINE. 
 
 Tho thousand gems, of dazzling ray, 
 Will glow and sparkle through the day, 
 The diamond only has the power 
 To shine in midnight s darkest hour. 
 So hearts that bask in beauty s smile, 
 With borrowed ray may glow awhile, 
 But mine, dear girl, is warm and bright, 
 Tho absence shroud the gem in night. 
 
 Yes, absence is affection s test, 
 I feel the truth within my breast, 
 For every hour and every mile, 
 That bars me from thy cheering smile, 
 Imparts new ardour to the flame, 
 That warms and animates my frame 
 But ere it too intensely burn, 
 In pity, love, return ! return. 
 
 WE ARE ONE. 
 
 Air From thee, Eliza, I must go. 
 
 Oh, we are one, and who presumes 
 
 To sever hearts like ours, 
 Would scatter frosts where Eden blooms, 
 
 And wither all its flowers ; 
 
AMATORY. 71 
 
 But should no bands unite our hands, 
 
 Till weary life be done, 
 The ties which join this heart to thine, 
 
 Will ever make us one. 
 
 Yes, pride and rank may sever hands, 
 
 But cannot change the heart, 
 Nor polar snows, nor Afric s sands, 
 
 Congenial spirits part. 
 Our souls shall meet, in union sweet, 
 
 Tho seas between us run, 
 Till pride relents, and fate consents. 
 
 To make us truly one. 
 
 RETURNING HOME. 
 
 No longer shall fortune be whelm d with invective, 
 If my journey the goddess but bless with her smile; 
 
 I heed not its length, while I view in perspective 
 The sharer, rewarder, and end of my toil. 
 
 Ah! still on my vision the object increases ! 
 
 The cottage of peace and effection I spy! 
 Hope smiles, as my bosom, unconscious, releases 
 
 The murmur of wishes respired in a sigh. 
 
 Now, now I am blest ! But, ah ! language it fails me, 
 No pencil can paint love s ecstatic alarms : 
 
 Tis she that approaches tis Catharine hails me, 
 She gazes ! she smiles ! I am press d in her arms. 
 
TME lll !Al;T , 
 
MELODIES. 
 
 III..SENTIIVIBNTAL AND CONVIVIAL. 
 
 BANKRUPTCY OF THE HEART. 
 
 Air Erin go Bragh. 
 
 Let infamy cover the dastard, that meanly 
 
 Can sport with the peace of an innocent maid, 
 For there is no pang which the heart feels so keenly 
 
 As finding its confidence basely hetray d. 
 No power can retrieve such a wide desolation, 
 As spreads o er the face of the mental creation, 
 When once a sincere trusting heart s adoration 
 Has been with a cold-blooded treason repaid. 
 
 For woman, dear woman, ne er traffics by measure, 
 
 But risks her whole heart, without counting the cost; 
 And if the dear youth whom she trusts with the treasure 
 
 Be shipwreck d, or faithless, her capital s lost. 
 For all she was worth, was her stock of affection, 
 And bankruptcy follows, with sad retrospection, 
 And nothing can ever remove the dejection 
 That preys on a bosom whose prospects are cross d. 
 
74 MELODIES. 
 
 If 
 A NUPTIAL SONG. 
 
 Air The Banks of the Devon. 
 
 O blest is the festival hallow d by duty, 
 
 The banquet which Hymen and Cupid supply, 
 The goblet which borrows new lustre from beauty, 
 
 Its tint from her lip, and its light from her eye. 
 Then join in our revels, partake of our pleasures, 
 
 For Hymen and Love here in union preside, 
 While music awakens her light-footed measures, 
 
 To welcome the guests, and to honour the bride. 
 
 While a spot in the desert of life is thus blooming, 
 
 And soft sighs of rapture are fanning its bowers, 
 While the sunbeams of mirth are its vistas illuming , 
 
 And bright tears of ecstacy water the flowers 
 O join in our revels, partake of our pleasures, 
 
 For Hymen and Love here in union preside, 
 While music awakens her light-footed measures, 
 
 To welcome the guests, and to honour the bride. 
 
 Long life to their pleasures, till raptures supernal, 
 
 Immortal as truth, in their bosoms shall rise, 
 For the bliss of true conjugal love is eternal, 
 
 It blossoms on earth but to bloom in the skies. 
 Then join in our revels, partake of our pleasures, 
 
 For Hymen and Love here in union preside, 
 While music awakens her light-footed measures, 
 
 To welcome the guests, and to honour the bride. 
 
SENTIMENTAL. 75 
 
 . , t 
 THE WIDOWED IVY. 
 
 Jllusic by Swindells. 
 
 I mark d of late, in verdant pride, 
 
 The ivy, fondly clinging 
 To the tall oak s majestic side, 
 On whose green branches, spreading wide, 
 
 A woodland choir was singing. 
 But soon was hush d the sylvan lay, 
 
 The lightning s bolt invaded : 
 The oak was shiver d in the fray, 
 The widow 1 d ivy lost its stay, 
 
 And all its verdure faded. 
 
 Tis thus the fond confiding heart 
 
 On manly faith reposes, 
 While the sweet smiles of Hope impart 
 Such hues to life s prospective chart 
 
 As deck the scene in roses. 
 But, ah ! such sweets too soon decay, 
 
 By sorrow s storm invaded ; 
 If faithless man our hopes betray, 
 The widow d heart will lose its stay, 
 
 And all its joys be faded. 
 
 Eve shuts her windows let me now advance 
 To where the viol leads the mazy dance ; 
 Where pleasure warms the heart and lights the eye* 
 While bounding pulses to the music fly. 
 
6 MELODIES. 
 
 CHRISTMAS GAMBOLS. 
 
 Air Songs of shepherds, in rustical roundelays. 
 
 Hail ! the season of joy and festivity, 
 
 Social pleasures and innocent mirth, 
 Consecrated by Mercy s Nativity, 
 
 Bliss angelical granted to earth: 
 Tempests of winter the forests may splinter, 
 
 But never can stint or embitter our cheer, 
 While love s soft wishes still sweeten our dishes 
 
 On merry Christmas and happy New Year. 
 
 Hark ! the merry bells, chiming from Trinity, 
 
 Charm the ear with their musical din, 
 Telling all, throughout the vicinity, 
 
 Holiday gambols are now to begin : 
 Friends and relations, with fond salutations, 
 
 And warm gratulations, together appear ; 
 While lovers and misses, with holiday kisses, 
 
 Greet merry Christmas and happy New Year. 
 
 Gratitude, united with piety, 
 
 Bids each bosom with rapture to glow, 
 Pleasures, temper d with cheerful sobriety, 
 
 " Light up smiles in the aspect of wo :" 
 Sires and mothers, meet sisters and brothers, 
 
 And mingle with others, in festival cheer ; 
 And friends, long parted, assemble, light-hearted, 
 
 On merry Christmas and happy New Year. 
 
SENTIMENTAL. 77 
 
 Now commences the infantile revelry, 
 
 Happy urchins the story believe, 
 That Santaclaus, since ages of chivalry, 
 
 Visits the nursery on holiday eve. 
 Socks, intended for gifts, are suspended, 
 
 And mystic rites blended, the fancy to cheer, 
 While sweet snap-dragon, exhausts the full flagon, 
 
 Each merry Christmas and happy New Year. 
 
 Then hail ! the season of joy and festivity, 
 
 Social pleasures, and innocent mirth, 
 Which smooths the path of age s declivity, 
 
 And gives to infancy Eden on earth ; 
 When Plenty, her treasure bestows without measure, 
 
 And innocent Pleasure pursues her career ; 
 While Love s soft wishes still sweeten our dishes, 
 
 On merry Christmas and happy New Year. 
 
 SPRING AND AUTUMN 
 
 How pleasing, how lovely appears 
 Sweet infancy, sportive and gay ; 
 
 Its prattle, its smiles, and its tears, 
 Like spring, or the dawning of day ! 
 
 But manhood s the season design d 
 For wisdom, for works, and for use ; 
 
 To ripen the fruits of the mind, 
 Which the seeds sown in childhood produce. 
 
T8 MELODIES. 
 
 LAND S END. 
 
 * Air The Light-house. 
 
 The gale was propitious, all canvass was sprea d, 
 
 As swift thro the water we glided, 
 The tear-drop yet glisten d which friendship had shed, 
 
 Tho the pang whence it sprang had subsided. 
 Fast faded in distance each object we knew, 
 
 As the shores which we loved were retiring, 
 And the last grateful object which linger d in view, 
 
 Was the beacon on land s end aspiring. 
 
 Ah ! here, I exclaim d, is an emblem of life, 
 
 For tis but a turbulent ocean, 
 Where passion with reason is ever at strife, 
 
 While our frail little barks are in motion. 
 The haven of infancy, calm and serene, 
 
 We leave in the distance retiring, 
 While memory lingers, to gaze on some scene, 
 
 Like the beacon on land s end aspiring. 
 
 O may I be careful to steer by that chart 
 
 Which Wisdom in mercy has given, 
 And true, like the needle, this tremulous heart 
 
 Be constantly pointing to heaven ; 
 Thus safely with tempests and billows I ll cope, 
 
 And find (when at last they re subsiding) 
 On the land s end of life is a beacon of hope, 
 
 To the harbour of happiness guiding. 
 
SENTIMENTAL. 
 
 THE TEAR OF GRATITUDE. 
 
 Air The Soldier s Gratitude . 
 
 There is a gem more pearly bright, 
 
 More dear to Mercy s eye, 
 That love s sweet star, whose mellow light 
 
 First cheers the evening sky ; 
 A liquid pearl, that glitters where 
 
 No sorrows now intrude, 
 A richer gem than monarchs wear, 
 
 The tear of gratitude. 
 
 But ne er shall narrow love of self, 
 
 Invite this tribute forth, 
 Nor can the sordid slave of pelf 
 
 Appreciate its worth ; 
 But ye who sooth the widow s wo, 
 
 And give the orphan food, 
 For you this liquid pearl shall flow, 
 
 The tear of gratitude. 
 
 Ye, who but slake an infant s thirst, 
 
 In Heavenly Mercy s name, 
 Or proffer penury a crust, 
 
 The sweet reward can claim. 
 Then as ye rove life s sunny banks, 
 
 With sweetest flowerets strew d, 
 Still may you claim the widow s thanks, 
 
 The orphan s gratitude. 
 
_ 
 $0 MELODIES. 
 
 vVHEN EYES ARE BRIGHT. 
 A Sicilian Air. 
 
 When eyes are bright with pleasure, 
 And brows with wreaths are crown d, 
 
 To music s sweetest measure 
 The heart shall gaily bound. 
 
 While pallid care forgets to call, 
 And smiling beauty lights the hall, 
 Devote to bliss the present hour, 
 Perhaps the next may darkly lower. 
 When eyes are bright with pleasure, 
 
 And brows with wreaths are crown d, 
 To music s sweetest measure 
 
 The heart shall gaily bound. 
 
 This life were but a dreary scene, 
 Without such little spots of green ; 
 But every joy like this to taste, 
 Imparts new strength to tread the waste. 
 When eyes are bright with pleasure, 
 
 And brows with wreaths are crown d, 
 To music s sweetest measure 
 
 The heart shall gaily bound. 
 
 Such pleasures leave no sting behind, 
 But sweetly elevate the mind, 
 Till ever? heart, with generous glow, 
 Is blest tr see its neighbour so. .-.*. - 
 
SENTIMENTAL. 81 
 
 When eyes are bright with pleasure, 
 And brows with wreaths are crown d, 
 
 To music s sweetest measure 
 The heart shall gaily bound. 
 
 NOW AMITY, HOPE, AND PLEASURE. 
 An Italian Air. 
 
 Now amity, hope, and pleasure, 
 Smile placidly, kiss, and toy, 
 
 While trippingly dance in measure, 
 Love, liberty, peace, and joy. 
 
 Night s ebony car descending, 
 
 Rolls rapidly down the sky, 
 While numerous sylphs attending, 
 
 Show revelry s hour is nigh. 
 Now amity, hope, and pleasure, 
 
 Smile placidly, kiss, and toy, 
 While trippingly dance in measure, 
 
 Love, liberty, peace, and joy. 
 
 Late dismally pining daily, 
 Hearts languidly sunk in wo, 
 
 Now merrily bounding gaily, 
 All playfully throb and glow. 
 
 Now amity, hope, and pleasure, 
 Smile placidly, kiss and toy, 
 
 While trippingly dance in measure, &c. 
 
82 MELODIES. 
 
 TO ADELAIDE FELICITY. 
 
 Supposed to express the feelings of her Father , on her 
 return from the West Indies. 
 
 Before thy infant lips could frame, 
 With lisping tone, a parent s name ; 
 When first a smile of playful grace 
 Was seen upon thy cherub face ; 
 While dandled on thy mother s knee 
 Think st thou that smile was dear to me ? 
 Twas, Adelaide Felicity. 
 
 When thou, at last, couldst run alone, 
 And lisp our names with dulcet tone ; 
 And like the lamb, in frolic play, 
 Didst wile the laughing hours away; 
 Thy father s bosom throbb d with glee, 
 While love maternal guarded thee, 
 Twas, Adelaide Felicity. 
 
 But ah ! how faint a joy was this, 
 Compared with our superior bliss, 
 When, budding in the spring of youth, 
 Replete with virtue, love, and truth, 
 And every grace we wish d to see, 
 Thy doting parents gazed on thee 
 Twas, Adelaide Felicity. 
 
 And when with cultivated mind, 
 By knowledge stored, by art refined, 
 
SENTIMENTAL. 83 
 
 Thy faithful heart, thy hand, thy will, 
 Were pledged to one who holds them still, 
 One who is worthy even thee, 
 What think you, owed the youth to me ? 
 Twas, Adelaide Felicity. 
 
 And now, thy lengthened absence o er, 
 
 I hold thee in my arms once more, 
 
 And kiss the pearls of joy away, 
 
 And see the smiles of rapture play 
 
 About the lips from sorrow free, 
 
 What, thinkst thou, calls this tear from me ? 
 
 Tis, Adelaide Felicity. 
 
 A GLEE. 
 Air To all you ladies now at land. 
 
 Let politicians rail and fight, 
 
 For president or king, 
 We care not which is wrong or right, 
 
 But gaily drink and sing. 
 The only party we would join, 
 Is that of woman, wit, and wine. 
 Then we ll push about the bowl, my boys. 
 Then we ll push about the bowl, 
 To exhilirate the soul, 
 And heighten our convivial joys. . 
 
84 MELODIES. 
 
 TO GEORGE. 
 
 Nay, ask me not for wit or rhyme, 
 While this blue-devil weather lasts, 
 
 The muses shun Columbia s clime 
 During the equinoctial blasts. 
 
 Their native home is most serene, 
 
 Where bright and cloudless skies are certain, 
 A mountain s-top as you have seen 
 
 At Chatham Garden, on the curtain. 
 
 They ll not exchange a scene so fair, 
 Their verdant walks and rural sweets 
 
 To shiver in this misty air, 
 And wade along our muddy streets. 
 
 Then let them still enjoy their revels, 
 Remote from fiends of every hue, 
 
 For though they smile on some poor devils, . 
 They never could abide the blue. 
 
 In July last, so hot and dry, 
 
 When some expired for want of brandy, 
 When not a cloud obscured the sky, 
 
 And fans were worn by every dandy : 
 
 Then would they come, and round my taper, 
 
 En dishabille, inspire me so, 
 That, though my sweat bedew d the paper, 
 
 I wrote some melting lines, you know. 
 
SENTIMENTAL. 85 
 
 But ask me not for wit or rhyme, 
 While this blue-devil weather lasts, 
 
 The muses shun Columbia s clime. 
 During the equinoctial blasts. 
 
 TO SARAH. 
 
 I ask d the muse to breathe a name 
 
 Which Mercy loved the dearest ; 
 The brightest on the roll of fame, 
 
 To perfect worth the nearest ; 
 Whose heart would bleed, but never shrink, 
 
 When gloom and danger lower d, 
 Who dared destruction s awful brink, 
 To save the wretch about to sink 
 
 She smiled and whisper d " HOWARD." 
 
 I ask d her then to name a fair, 
 
 Whose thousand traits of beauty, 
 Derive the sweetest grace they wear 
 
 From virtue, love, and duty : 
 Who, when her parents helpless lay, 
 
 By fell disease o erpower d, 
 With tearless, sleepless eye, would stay 
 To watch their couches, night and day, 
 The pangs of sickness to allay 
 
 The muse still whisper d " HOWARD." 
 
MELODIES. 
 
 THE KALEIDESCOPE. 
 Air Just like Love. 
 
 Just like Hope, this magic toy 
 Shows a thousand forms of joy, 
 Of richest shape and sweetest hue, 
 For ever varying ever new, 
 Just like Hope. 
 
 Innocence, a playful child, 
 Raised the tube, and look d, and smiled, 
 And still he gazed, with rapture wild, 
 For every change his heart beguiled, 
 Just like Hope. 
 
 Sage Experience chanced to pass, 
 Seized the toy, and broke the glass, 
 And soon convinced the weeping boy 
 How false was his illusive joy, 
 Just like Hope. 
 
 Still the silly child believed 
 That his loss would be retrieved, 
 Another tried, and still he grieved, 
 For every flattering tube deceived, 
 Just like Hope. 
 
 Just like Hope, this magic toy 
 Shows a thousand forma of joy, &c. 
 
SENTIMENTAL. 87 
 
 THE IMPRISONED DEBTOR. 
 
 The slave inhales the morning healthful breeze, 
 And gambols gaily o er the verdant plain ; 
 
 But ah ! the debtor tastes no joys like these, 
 But breathes the fetid atmosphere of pain. 
 
 The slave has friends a wife and children dear, 
 Whose fond caresses every grief dispel ; 
 
 But ah ! no friend no wife or child is nest\ 
 To bless the debtor s solitary cell. 
 
 Near the sad couch on which his Emma weeps, 
 Her sickly fancy paints his wasting frame ; 
 
 And from the cradle where her infant sleeps, 
 Unconscious lips pronounce a father s name. 
 
 Alas, poor babe ! thy father hears thee not ; 
 
 In the cold jail his lonely lamp he trims, 
 To wake and muse upon our hapless lot, 
 
 The chains of avarice clanking on his limbs. 
 
 But though, my child, our eyes dissolve in showers, 
 Our cheeks are strangers to the blush of shame> 
 
 For oh ! one boast, one legacy is ours 
 His spotless honour and unblemished fame. 
 
 Unfeeling, cruel, and remorseless souls ! 
 Ye, who on Sunday still profanely pray 
 " Forgive our debts, as we, O Lord, forgive 
 Our debtors !" may the letter of your prayers 
 Remain unanswered for tis death ye ask ! 
 
88 MELODIES. 
 
 THE FLOWERS OF LIFE. 
 
 In the journey of life, let us scorn to complain of 
 The trifling impediments found in the road ; 
 
 The worst I encounter I laugh at the pain of, 
 For sweet-smiling cheerfulness lightens the load. 
 
 If I find not a rose, I indulge not in sorrow, 
 But pluck with contentment a daisy to-day ; 
 
 Nay, even a sprig will feed hope for to-morrow, 
 The humblest that nods to the zephyrs of May. 
 
 Let others dispute, I ll avoid their dissention, 
 
 Religious, political, moral, or such ; 
 For the lily of peace thus escapes their attention, 
 
 The sweet bud of pleasure which blooms at my touch 
 
 The blossoms of friendship, surviving mortality, 
 I ll carefully cherish and wear in my breast ; 
 
 Tho its picture may boast brighter hues than reality, 
 Its fragrance directs me, when doubtful the test. 
 
 The spirit of feeling, the soul of affection, 
 Wildly ardent in rapture, and melting in wo, 
 
 Whatever its image, attire, or complexion, 
 
 With mine shall commingle in sympathy s glow. 
 
 I ask not his birth-place, whatever the region, 
 Hot, temperate, frigid despotic or free; 
 
 I ask not his politics, creed or religion, 
 
 A Turk, Jew, or Christian he s still dear to mo 
 
SENTIMENTAL. 89 
 
 
 
 But ah! there s a flower, which, teeming with nectar, 
 Beneath its fair aspect screen s misery s dart, 
 
 So artfully veil d that it mocks a detecter, 
 
 Till, press d to the bosom, it pierces the heart. 
 
 But still, to a bosom susceptibly placid, 
 
 The anguish of love will but heighten the joy; 
 
 As the bev rage uniting a sweet with an acid, 
 Is grateful, when nectar untemper d would cloy. 
 
 The bramble of avarice others may nourish, 
 
 Exhausting life s soil of its virtues and strength; 
 
 I ll stray where the plants of beneficence flourish, 
 And the generous vine winds its serpentine length. 
 
 Let misers pursue their mean sordid employment, 
 And hoard up their treasures for life s latest scenes ; 
 
 I ll waste not the moments allow d for enjoyment, 
 Nor squander the season in gaining the means. 
 
 Our object is happiness ne er could we miss it, 
 In life s varied path, if the talent were ours 
 
 From all we encounter some good to elicit, 
 As bees gather sweets from the meanest of flowers. 
 
 Then pluck every blossom of happiness blooming; 
 
 Leave birds of contention, and play with the dove ; 
 And our path, soon the flush of enchantment assuming, 
 
 Will glow, an elysium of pleasure and love. 
 
90 MELODIES. 
 
 EDWIN DELISLE. 
 
 Air Dark Loch-na-gar. 
 
 The battle was ended, whose direful commotion 
 
 Gave tyrants the victims unclaim d by the wave, 
 And the last ray of Phoebus illumin d the ocean, 
 
 As it shot o er the land of the ill-fated brave. 
 The western breeze wafted the ship o er the main, 
 
 Far, far from their country and liberty s smile ; 
 Each captive enshackled with tyranny s chain, 
 
 The noblest of whom was young Edwin Delisle. 
 
 Apart from his comrades, his manly breast bleeding 
 
 With anguish too piercing for nature to bear, 
 Distracted he view d his dear country receding, 
 
 And bade it adieu in a tone of despair : 
 " O region of happiness, freedom and peace ! 
 
 Columbia, adieu! not for Edwin you smile, 
 For soon, with his sorrows, existence must cease, 
 
 For rent is the heart of poor Edwin Delisle. 
 
 " Eliza ! my angel ! fate dooms us to sever, 
 
 Tho brought to the climate that fosters thy charms ; 
 In sight of my country, I lose it for ever, 
 
 In view of my love, I am torn from her arms ! 
 Three times have the seasons their circle fulfill d, 
 
 Since Edwin was blest with affection s sweet smile, 
 Since, press d to his bosom, Eliza he held, 
 
 As she sigh d a farewell to her Edwin Delisle. 
 
SENTIMENTAL. 91 
 
 " Three years shall restore me, I cried, as we parted ; 
 
 The term has expir d, and my eyes caught the shore ; 
 Hope flatter d, then left to despair, broken-hearted, 
 
 The wretch for whom freedom and joy are no more. 
 The shadows of eve shroud thy land from my view, 
 
 But ah! there s another where joys ever smile! 
 God of mercy, forgive me! Eliza, adieu!" 
 
 He plung d and the waves cover d Edwin Delisle. 
 
 A FAIR VOCALIST. 
 
 " What nymph," ask d Apollo, " will deign for awhile, 
 Which one of the nine, will repair to the isle 
 Where virtue, and learning, and genius, and taste, 
 Have chang d to an Eden Manhattan s rude waste? 
 The science of Philipps no longer can charm, 
 The sweetness of Incledon ceases to warm, 
 And the eager inhabitants look to the nine 
 For something superior something divine?" 
 " For something divine !" sage Minerva exclaim d, 
 " Their wish has been realized ere it was named ; 
 The sweetest of voices and faces unite 
 Their ears, and their eyes, and their hearts, to delight ; 
 For the muses, and graces, and Pallas, have joined 
 To embellish her person, and polish her mind. 
 From sirens she pilfer d each tone that entrances, 
 From Cupid her dimples, from Venus her glances; 
 Thus enrich d by celestials with sweetness and worth, 
 She charms, in the person of Holroan, on earth. 
 
92 MELODIES. 
 
 FRIENDSHIP. 
 
 What power can prop a sinking soul, 
 
 Oppress d with woes and sick of grief, 
 Bid the warm tear forbear to roll, 
 Despair s heart-rending sigh control, 
 And whisper sweet relief ? 
 
 Friendship ! sweet balm for sorrow s smart, 
 In thee the soothing power is found, 
 
 To heal the lacerated heart, 
 
 Extract affliction s venom d dart, 
 And close the bleeding wound. 
 
 When pierc d by grief s chill tempest through, 
 
 The tendril bends beneath its power, 
 Thou canst the broken plant renew : 
 Thy sacred tear, like heavenly dew, 
 Revives the drooping flower. 
 
 If fortune frown if health depart, 
 Or death divide the tenderest tie, 
 
 Friendship can raise the sinking heart, 
 
 A glow of real joy impart, 
 And wipe the tearful eye. 
 
 If foes without attack our name, 
 
 Or foes within assault our peace, 
 Then friendship s pure celestial flame 
 Can sooth the mfnd defend our fame, 
 And bid assailants cease. 
 

 SENTIMENTAL. 93 
 
 Come, then, sweet power, of source divine, 
 
 For ever glow within my breast ; 
 My earliest friend he ever mine, 
 One link our hearts in union join, 
 
 To make each other blest. 
 
 HIBERNIA S TEARS. 
 Music ly GUfert Published by E. Riley. 
 
 Hibernia s tears for ever flow, 
 
 Her harp in silence slumbers ; 
 Her bards the patriot song forego, 
 
 Nor dare to breathe its numbers. 
 No more they bid the swelling tone 
 
 In freedom s, cause awaken ; 
 Those happy days of bliss are flown, 
 
 And Erin weeps, forsaken ! 
 
 But though her sons in exile roam, 
 
 They sleep on freedom s pillow ; 
 And Erin s daughters find a home 
 
 Beyond the western billow. 
 There shall they breathe the glowing strain, 
 
 To joy s ecstatic numbers ; 
 There Erin s harp shall wake again, 
 
 In rapture, from its slumbers. 
 
MELODIES. 
 
 CALUMNY. 
 
 Ah, what avails the shield of truth, 
 The charm of virtue, beauty, youth, 
 Against that fiend deform d, uncouth, 
 
 Whose wounds no lenient balm can close ? 
 Assail d by Slander s venom d tooth, 
 The sensate mind must droop, forsooth, 
 
 And wither like a canker d rose. 
 Yes, they who ever felt the pang 
 Of Calumny s inveterate fang, 
 Must own that minstrel never sang, 
 Of all the woes from guilt that sprang, 
 
 Of deeper, dreader, deadlier foes. 
 
 O thou, who hast been thus betray d 
 By secret foes, in ambush laid, 
 To plot and stab beneath the shade ; 
 Whose viewless shafts have mock d the aid 
 Of Virtue s buckler to evade 
 
 The cruel, pointed, venom d barb 
 Know, hapless wretch ! whoe er thou be, 
 There is between thyself and me 
 A sighing chord of sympathy ; 
 For I have also felt, like thee, 
 The cureless wounds of Calumny, 
 Who kiss d and stabb d for he for he 
 
 Had stolen honest Friendship s garb. 
 
 But what, alas, avails complaint ? 
 Be man more holy than a saint, 
 
SENTIMENTAL. 95 
 
 Be lovely woman " chaste as snow 
 And pure as ice," they still must know 
 The keenest pang of human wo, 
 
 The rankling wound of Calumny. 
 But hear a Saviour s accents mild, 
 " The persecuted and reviled 
 
 " Are blessed," saith the Lord. 
 Then still, in conscious virtue clad, 
 " Rejoice, and be exceeding glad, 
 
 " For great is your reward." 
 
 O TRUST NOT HOPE. 
 
 O trust not faithless Hope too far, 
 
 Lest disappointment s venom d dart 
 Should all thy fairest prospects mar, 
 
 And lacerate thy constant heart ; 
 For I have trusted in her smile, 
 
 Nor heard the distant thunder roll, 
 Nor saw the cloud approach the while, 
 
 Whose lightnings since have pierced my soul. 
 
 O trust not then the smile of hope, 
 
 A hurricane succeeds the calm, 
 E en while we stroll some verdant slope 
 
 Where flow rets freight the breeze with balm 
 Ere we can say " the scene is sweet," 
 
 Tis blasted by some demon s breath ; 
 Then trust not, trust not, I entreat, 
 
 The treacherous smile that lures to death. 
 
96 MELODIES. 
 
 FEMALE ORNAMENTS. 
 
 Imitated from the French. 
 
 All hues become a pretty face, 
 For beauty needs no foreign grace ; 
 A flower, or any thing, in truth, 
 Will ornament the brow of youth, 
 While sparkling gems may vainly shine 
 Where age and ugliness combine. 
 
 O then, be wise, ye gentle fair, 
 And all the ornaments you wear 
 From taste, instead of wealth, obtain, 
 Nor longer court your glass hi vain. 
 
 The Prize of Beauty (once decreed, 
 To Paphian Venus, as we read) 
 Was not awarded to the fair 
 For any brilliants in her hair. 
 
 No, twas her native charms acquired 
 The prize her rivals so desired ; 
 Her face, her neck, her bosom, waist, 
 Her easy negligence and taste, 
 Her attitude, her hair, her eyes 
 With these the goddess won the prize. 
 
 O then, ye fair, who seek to please, 
 Cherish simplicity and ease ; 
 
SENTIMENTAL. 97 
 
 With modest taste, give no occasion 
 To quote Apelles observation.* 
 Remember, that a grace denied, 
 Was by a bauble ne er supplied. 
 
 THY RUBY LIPS MUST KISS THE BRIM. 
 Air Kate of Aberdeen. 
 
 Thy ruby lips must kiss the brim 
 
 Before I drain the cup, 
 Its lustre else will be too dim 
 
 To light my spirits up. 
 Nay, taste, my love its purple hue 
 
 Will brighter paint thy lip ; 
 Thine eye will gain new lustre too, 
 
 Thy soul new ardour sip ! 
 
 If rosy wine have power to cheer 
 
 The regents of the sky,f 
 It sure will chase away the tear 
 
 That dims an angel s eye. 
 Then taste, my love its purple hue 
 
 Will brighter dye thy lip ; 
 Thine eye will gain new lustre too, 
 
 Thy soul new ardour sip ! 
 
 An ignorant painter having decorated the portrait of Helen with trinketa, 
 itoervmi, Mint the picture was " rich in ornament, but poor in beau- 
 artist had embellished her with jewels, because he had 
 
 int ln c beu n,l>fitl. 
 
 cks of Paganism ; hut I dare not avail myself of higher 
 vivia! sorisj, or I would refer to him who said that " wina 
 
 ty," and that the / artist had embellished her with jewels, because he had 
 not abilities to paint her beautiful." 
 
 \ This idea smack 
 aut op y in a con 
 checicth God and man. 
 
J MELODIES. 
 
 THE DEAF AND DUMB 
 
 Air There s nothing true but Heaven. 
 
 The ills which call for pity s tear. 
 
 Were all in mercy given ; 
 The fetter d tongue, obstructed ear, 
 And every wo we suffer here, 
 
 Invite us back to Heaven. 
 
 But he who binds the bleeding heart 
 
 By sorrow s tempest riven, 
 Whose kindness dries the tears that start, 
 Performs a man s, an angel s part, 
 
 And aids the plan of Heaven. 
 
 Then see the tear from misery s cheek, 
 
 By love and genius driven ! 
 Behold ! they gain the end they seek ! 
 The deaf can hear ! the dumb can speak ! 
 
 And praise approving Heaven. 
 
 And now a bright and glorious morn 
 
 Succeeds a dusky even ; 
 The dazzled soul, but newly born, 
 In wonder lost, salutes the dawn, 
 
 And hails the sun of heaven. 
 
 The Muse no more in foreign climes shall roam, 
 While we ve such scenes and incidents at home. 
 
SENTIMENTAL. 99 
 
 BEAUTY. 
 
 Imitated from the French. 
 
 Beauty, sweet mysterious power, 
 
 Secret spring of all that moves, 
 Goddess of the Paphian bower, 
 
 Mother of the infant loves ; 
 
 Which can make the wicked good, 
 
 Savage sentiments abolish, 
 Melt the hard, refine the rude, 
 
 Teach the clown a courtier s polish ; 
 
 Which can make the simple wise, 
 
 Or deprive the wise of reason ; 
 Bid the statesman sink or rise, 
 
 Urge to loyalty or treason : 
 
 Now exciting modest fear, 
 
 Now with lawless rudeness firing; 
 
 Prompting to be faithless here, 
 There with constancy inspiring. 
 
 Tis the power that banes or blesses; 
 
 Where shall we its image find ? 
 Tis the nymph whose eye expresses 
 
 Charms belonging to the mind. 
 
 We to the fair evince a true affection 
 
 By pointing out such faults as need correction. 
 
100 MELODIES. 
 
 THE MINSTREL. 
 
 Air Of a the airts the wind can blaw. 
 
 How happy is the minstrel s lot, 
 
 Whose song each care beguiles ; 
 The frowns of fortune fright him not, 
 
 Nor does he court her smiles. 
 Contented with his tuneful lyre, 
 
 His art can yield the rest ; 
 He pours his soul along the wire, 
 
 And rapture fires his breast. 
 
 He envies not the power of kings, 
 
 With all their glittering toys ; 
 The tones that warble from his strings 
 
 Impart sublimer joys. 
 He builds a world of airy bliss, 
 
 Where love erects his throne ; 
 And though his fancy frame the kiss, 
 
 Its sweets are all his own. 
 
 What though no wealth his song repays, 
 
 Nor laurels deck his lyre; 
 The glow he catches from its lays 
 
 Is bliss supremely higher. 
 What though his fairy pleasures seem 
 
 Illusion s shapeless toys 
 He would not lose so sweet a dream 
 
 For all your waking joys. 
 
SENTIMENTAL. 101 
 
 A DUET. 
 
 Both Now the torch of rapture burns, 
 
 Sorrows fly, and joy returns; 
 Hope, in blushing garlands drest, 
 Comes again, a welcome guest. 
 
 She So the gloomy shades of night 
 
 He Fade before the dawn of light ; 
 
 She Till Aurora s blushing ray 
 
 Both Kindle darkness into day. 
 
 CONFIDING WOMAN. 
 
 Confiding woman yields her hear 
 Without a reservation, 
 
 While man can only love by art, 
 And sordid calculation. 
 
 No earthly ill can him annoy, 
 But she would gladly bear it, 
 
 Nor has the world for her a joy, 
 Unless her lover share it. 
 
 Clear and transparent, like a crystal vase, 
 The female mind its real worth displays ; 
 Whether its hue our praise or censure win. 
 It takes its colour from the stores within. 
 9* 
 
102 MELODIES. 
 
 WILLIAM S PROMOTION. 
 
 Air Paddy Carey. 
 
 The drum had ceas d, the bugle slept, 
 
 The sentry march d with footsteps wary, 
 When ditch and picket William leapt, 
 
 Eager to see his wedded Mary. 
 But ah ! his colonel, just before, 
 
 On her defenceless state presuming, 
 Had entered Mary s cottage door, 
 
 The husband s voice and dress assuming. 
 Soft and sly, Mary fled; William s eye sooth d her dread. 
 
 "Ills infernal seize the colonel!" 
 
 Cried he, unwary. 
 But Mary suggested, that he be arrested, 
 
 And as a deserter to camp return d ; 
 
 And William, who with resentment burn d, 
 Commends the thought, and soon is brought 
 A brisk sergeant s guard ; the colonel pleads hard, 
 
 But his disguise deceives all eyes ; 
 
 He swears and cries, while none replies ; 
 
 Safely guarded, not retarded, 
 William sees him borne from Mary ; 
 
 Faithful Mary, beautiful Mary, 
 Dear little, sweet little, constant Mary 
 
 The morning came, the reveille beat, 
 The troops paraded bright and airy, 
 
 And there, in regimentals neat, 
 
 William had brought his lovely Mary. 
 
SENTIMENTAL. 103 
 
 The colonel, now restored to rank, 
 
 Around on milk-white charger prances, 
 Until his eye, upon the flank, 
 
 Is caught by blushing Mary s glances. 
 Soon he asks, who was mad, to enlist such a lad ; 
 William ready, answered steady, 
 
 Bright, brisk, and airy : 
 
 " The youth I recruited, I hope you are suited, 
 For though he is young, and tender, and light, 
 He took a deserter, sir, last night, 
 Though dark and damp, some way from camp 
 The villain was caught, and hither brought, 
 In deep disguise." The colonel s eyes 
 Betray surprise at length he cries, 
 
 " Be it noted you re promoted 
 .Ensign ever guard your Mary ; 
 
 Faithful Mary, beautiful Mary, 
 Dear little, sweet little, constant Mary." 
 
 FASHION. 
 
 To tyrant Fashion all must yield, 
 
 He rules with sway despotic, 
 And he who dares contest the field, 
 
 Must be indeed Quixotic. 
 But though, when he appears, we must, 
 
 Like courteous slaves, receive him ; 
 The wise will ne er embrace himjirst, 
 
 Nor be the last to leave him. 
 
104 MELODIES. 
 
 RIGHTS OF WOMAN 
 Air Fill the bumper, fair. 
 
 While each freeman s son 
 
 Boasts of rights in plenty, 
 Daughters have but one, 
 
 E en at one-and-twenty : 
 Tis the right to choose 
 
 Whom we mean to marry, 
 And, at once, refuse 
 
 Tom, or Dick, or Harry ; 
 Tis our charter d right, 
 
 Nature s hand has penn d it, 
 Let us then unite 
 
 Bravely to defend it. 
 
 While our fathers fought 
 
 For our independence, 
 Patriot mothers taught 
 
 This to their descendants: 
 Daughters guard and save 
 
 Rights too dear to barter, 
 Spurn the name of slave, 
 
 Freedom is your charter. 
 You ve the right to choose 
 
 Whom you mean to marry, 
 Whom you will refuse, 
 
 Tom, or Dick, or Harry. 
 
 * As siv in the play of th " Deed of Sift. 
 
SENTIMENTAL. 105 
 
 Men may boast the bliss 
 
 Of a free election, 
 Women ask but this, 
 
 Uncontrolled affection ; 
 Then we cheerly say, 
 
 Tutor d by the pastor, 
 " Honour, love, obey," 
 
 To our lord and master. 
 Daughters, guard and save 
 
 Rights too dear to barter, 
 Spurn the name of slave, 
 
 Freedom is our charter. 
 
 There s a claim more strong 
 
 Than a sire s or brother s ; 
 If they think us wrong, 
 
 Let them ask our mothers : 
 When they play d their parts, 
 
 Urged by love and beauty, 
 With their hands and hearts 
 
 They transferr d their duty. 
 Tis our charter d right, 
 
 Nature s hand has penn d it, 
 Let us then unite 
 
 Bravely to defend it. 
 
 FRIENDSHIP. 
 
 From this bright source a stream of blessings flows, 
 To more than balance all Pandora s woes. 
 
106 MELODIES. 
 
 THE WATERMAN. 
 
 From a Manuscript Play. 
 
 Let philosophers boast of their learning and skill, 
 
 And tell us what sages have thought o men ; 
 It yet is a fact, sirs, deny it who will, 
 
 Human nature s the study for watermen 
 For ours is the talent to soon put afloat 
 
 All ages, professions, and sizes ; 
 From the sweep s sooty rug to the gaudy laced coat, 
 As the grade to the general rises. 
 While we row, 
 To and fro, 
 One way look, the other go. 
 
 Our boats convey from shore to shore, 
 The great, the small, the rich, the poor, 
 The short, the tall, the fat, the lean, 
 The fair, the brown, the brave, the mean ; 
 The maid, the widow, wife, and mother, 
 And some who re neither one nor tother. 
 Thus ours is the talent, &c. 
 
 There s querists, quibblers, quids and quakers, 
 Butchers, brokers, brewers, bakers, 
 Blacksmiths, boatmen, bailiffs, butlers, 
 Cartmen, coopers, caulkers, cutlers, 
 Drummers, drapers, drivellers, drovers, 
 Riggers, ravers, ranters, rovers; 
 
SENTIMENTAL. 107 
 
 Farmers, fiddlers, fuddlers, furriers, 
 Carvers, clothiers, clerks, and curriers ; 
 Gownmen, grocers, gardeners, gilders, 
 Bullies, bruisers, barbers, builders; 
 Founders, framers, fools, refiners, 
 Jurors, judges, jobbers, joiners ; 
 Saddlers, sweepers, singers, sailors, 
 Tanners, turners, tinkers, tailors ; 
 Tenants, tyrants, truants, teachers, 
 Poets, printers, painters, preachers. 
 Thus ours is the talent, &c. 
 
 Tobacconists, book-binders, stone-cutters, sawyers, 
 With carpenters, constables, lovers, and lawyers ; 
 Musicians, confectioners, vintners and glaziers, 
 With inn-keepers, ink-makers, hatters, and braziers ; 
 Auctioneers, and attorneys, with priests, and physicians, 
 Engravers, designers, and scribbling magicians. 
 Thus ours is the talent, &c. 
 
 Shoe-makers, watch-makers, coach-makers, sail-maker^ 
 Rope-makers, chair-makers, pin-makers, pail-makers ; 
 With weighers, surveyors, 
 Street inspectors, 
 Bank directors ; 
 The seller of jewels, 
 And the fighter of duels. 
 Thus ours is the talent to soon put afloat, 
 
 All ages, professions, and sizes, 
 From the sweep s sooty rug, &c. 
 
108 MELODIES. 
 
 THE NEEDLE. 
 
 The gay belles of fashion may boast of excelling 
 
 In waltz or cotillion at whist or quadrille j 
 And seek admiration by vauntingly telling 
 
 Of drawing, and painting, and musical skill ; 
 But give me the fair one, in country or city, 
 
 Whose home and its duties are dear to her heart, 
 Who cheerfully warbles some rustical ditty, 
 
 While plying the needle with exquisite art. 
 The bright little needle the swift-flying needle, 
 
 The needle directed by beauty and art. 
 
 If Love have a potent, a magical token, 
 
 A talisman, ever resistless and true 
 A charm that is never evaded or broken, 
 
 A witchery certain the heart to subdue 
 Tis this and hfs armoury never has furnish d 
 
 So keen and unerring, or polish d a dart; 
 Let Beauty direct it, so pointed and burnish d, 
 
 And Oh ! it is certain of touching the heart* 
 
 Be wise then, ye maidens, nor seek admiration 
 
 By dressing for conquest, and flirting with all ; 
 You never, whate er be your fortune or station, 
 
 Appear half so lovely at rout or at ball, 
 As gaily convened at a work-covered table, 
 
 Each cheerfully active and playing her part, 
 Beguiling the task with a song or a fable, 
 
 And plying the needle with exquisite art. 
 
ii i>; s i 1 , K 
 
MELODIES. 
 
 IV...NATI01TAL AND PATRIOTIC. 
 
 WAR. 
 
 tfie 6ee is to the floweret. 
 
 Gentle Peace, on ruffled pinion, 
 Flies from Freedom s injured realm; 
 
 War extends his rough dominion, 
 Vengeance nodding on his helm. 
 
 Harshly sounds the trumpet s clamour, 
 While our warriors leap to arms ; 
 
 Beauty shrinks in fearful tremour, 
 Snatching graces from alarms. 
 
 Harsh to us the martial clarion, 
 Who with peace and freedom blest> 
 
 Bade the desert, drear and barren, 
 Smile a garden in the west. 
 
 Harsh to us, whose fair pretentions 
 Ne er infringed a nation s right, 
 
 Who have tamely borne aggressions, 
 Rather than engage in fight. 
 10 
 
HO MELODIES. 
 
 FREEDOM S STAR. 
 
 Air God save the king. 
 
 Hail, Star of Freedom, hail ! 
 Whose splendour ne er shall fail, 
 
 In peace or war ; 
 Long shall thy golden ray 
 O er these bless d regions play, 
 While millions own the sway 
 
 Of Freedom s Star. 
 
 Our sires, a pilgrim band, 
 Who sought this promis d land, 
 
 From realms afar, 
 Spurn d fell oppression s sway, 
 And dared the pathless way, 
 Led by the golden ray 
 
 Of Freedom s Star. 
 
 Their sons, with kindred flame, 
 Have earn d an equal fame, 
 
 In peace and war ; 
 Determined to be free, 
 Have fought by land and sea ; 
 Led on to victory, 
 
 By Freedom s Star. 
 
 Beneath her temple s dome, 
 Here wanderers find a home 
 
PATRIOTIC. Ill 
 
 From realms afar ; 
 Blest in their happy choice, 
 Here will they long rejoice, 
 And with united voice, 
 
 Hail Freedom s Star. 
 
 YES, YES, I GO. 
 A Polacca Music by Davies. 
 
 " Yes, yes, I go" he whispered soft, 
 
 " In freedom s cause my sword to wield, 
 " Columbia s banner waves aloft, 
 
 "And glory calls me to the field." 
 Then foremost on the foe he prest, 
 
 While war s rude tempest wildly roar d, 
 Till gushing from the hero s breast 
 
 The purple tide in torrents pour d. 
 
 He fell, and oh ! what fancies stole 
 Through memory s vista, bright and warm, 
 
 Till one loved image o er his soul 
 Came like an angel in the storm. 
 
 But loudly swell d the bugle s blast, 
 His hand instinctive grasp d the steel, 
 
 Again it swell d but all was past, 
 
 The warrior s breast had ceased to feel. 
 
112 MELODIES. 
 
 rREHraOM S CONSTELLATION. 
 
 Air Yankee-doodle. 
 
 Glory gilds the western skies 
 
 With bright irradiation, 
 Where twenty brilliant stars arise, 
 
 In Freedom s Constellation. 
 See the glittering orbs revolve 
 
 Around the sun of union ! 
 And never shall the tie dissolve 
 
 Which holds them in communion. 
 This exalts Columbia s cause, 
 
 And gilds her reputation ; 
 This secures her earth s applause, 
 
 And Heaven s approbation. 
 
 Long shall live Columbia s name, 
 
 In patriotic story, 
 And long around her brow shall flame 
 
 A bright unsullied glory. 
 Virtue s panoply she wears, 
 
 Her weapons truth and justice, 
 The olive-branch her standard bears, 
 
 In Heaven alone her trust is. 
 This exalts Columbia s cause, &c. 
 
 Mild religion s lucid ray 
 Her glowing prospect brightens, 
 
 And superstition shuns the day 
 Which literature enlightens. 
 
PATRIOTIC. 113 
 
 Charity s celestial flame 
 
 Here sheds its mild effulgence, 
 For every party, sect, and name, 
 
 Enjoys the same indulgence. 
 This exalts Columbia s cause, &c. 
 
 Freemen reap the fertile soil 
 
 Their valour has defended, 
 And smiling plenty crowns the toil 
 
 Which health and hope attended. 
 Exiles here a refuge find, 
 
 Secure from persecution, 
 And bless the wisdom that design d 
 
 Our glorious constitution. 
 This exalts Columbia s cause, &c. 
 
 See our mighty realm increase, 
 
 Since independence crown d it, 
 And its growth shall never cease, 
 
 Till oceans only bound it ; 
 Still Columbia never fights 
 
 For conquest or for plunder, 
 Nothing but insulted rights 
 
 Can wake her martial thunder. 
 This exalts Columbia s cause, &c. 
 
 See Neptune with the lakes allied, 
 
 No legendary story, 
 The god of ocean gains a bride 
 
 Where Perry wedded glory. 
 10* 
 
114 MELODIES. 
 
 See potent steam s resistless charm 
 Uniting distant places, 
 
 Till Mississippi s giant arm 
 The Hudson s form embraces. 
 
 This exalts Columbia s cause, &c. 
 
 Hail, thou mistress of the west ! 
 
 Where freemen hold dominion, 
 Where the dove may safely rest 
 
 Beneath the eagle s pinion ; 
 Long as Cynthia wheels her car, 
 
 Or Phoebus holds his station, 
 Be virtue still the brightest star 
 
 In Freedom s Constellation. 
 This exalts Columbia s cause, &c, 
 
 TWAS WAR. 
 
 Air O breathe not his name. 
 
 Twas war and the plough in the furrow was stayed, 
 Each art was relinquish d for musket and blade; 
 The pipe of the swain in the valley was still, 
 While the bugle rung loud from each fortified hill. 
 
 The cause of humanity, freedom, and truth, 
 Enkindled o, flame in the breast of each youth, 
 Which, fann d by the air that our freemen respire, 
 Soon burst on the foe in a deluge of fire. 
 
PATRIOTIC. 115 
 
 FREEDOM S JUBILEE. 
 
 Air Scots who, hae wi Wallace bled. 
 
 Freedom s Jubilee again 
 Calls for music s richest strain, 
 Hail her bright auspicious reign, 
 
 Hail the Jubilee. 
 Louder let the Anthem swell, 
 And to listening seraphs tell, 
 That the land in which we dwell 
 
 Ever will be free. 
 
 On this day Columbians broke 
 Stern oppression s galling yoke, 
 And, by one decisive stroke, 
 
 Made their children free ; 
 Twas the birth of freedom here, 
 Tis a day to freemen dear, 
 Let us, then, each rolling year, 
 
 Keep the Jubilee. 
 
 Long and bloody was the fray 
 Ere Columbia gain d the day, 
 Lowly many a hero lay, 
 
 Dying to be free. 
 But immortal Washington 
 Led Columbia s patriots on, 
 Till the glorious prize was won, 
 
 PEACE and LIBERTY. 
 
116 MELODIES. 
 
 THE BATTLE. 
 
 A Martial Medley Music by Dames. 
 
 Recitative. 
 O who, reclined in dastard ease, 
 
 Could hear his country call in vain, 
 
 Or view her banner court the breeze, 
 
 Nor sigh to seek the hostile plain ? 
 
 Air. 
 
 O perish such wretches ! while, eager for glory, 
 The youth of our country are rushing to arms ; 
 The deeds of our sires, if we list to the story, 
 Excite in our bosoms a spirit that charms. 
 
 Recitative. 
 
 But hark ! the cannon s awful roar 
 Proclaims the deadly fray begun ! 
 The hostile ranks have met once more, 
 And clouds of smoke obscure the sun. 
 
 Air. 
 The soul-stirring bugle now sounds to the charge, 
 
 And our cavalry rush like a tempest along ; 
 The wing of the foe, on the cataract s verge, 
 Is broken and turn d by a current so strong. 
 
 The havoc increases, the squadrons unite, 
 The clashing of sabres is heard in the din, 
 
 All rushing with ardour to share in the fight, 
 While bayonets bristle terrific between. 
 
PATRIOTIC. 117 
 
 The shouts of the victors, the groans of the dying, 
 
 The shrill-sounding fife, and the drum s noisy rattle, 
 The prancing of coursers, in charging or flying, 
 Unite in augmenting the din of the battle. 
 
 Recitative. 
 But, hark ! the distant bugle s strain 
 
 Proclaims the vanquish d foe is flying; 
 He leaves behind the ensanguined plain, 
 Where half his host are dead or dying. 
 
 Air. 
 
 The tumult subsides, and the carnage is done, 
 The field is our own, for the battle is won ; 
 Our bugle proclaims us the lords of the day, 
 With victory, liberty, glory, huzza ! 
 
 THE ONSET. 
 
 Air Harp of Memnon. 
 
 See ! at length, indignant Justice 
 Bares her sabre s spotless blade ! 
 
 Swears by Him in whom her trust is, 
 Every wrong shall be repaid ! 
 
 Hark ! the horrid fray commences ! 
 
 Mars has slipp d the dogs of war, 
 Death on every side dispenses, 
 
 Spreading ruin round his car. 
 
US MELODIES. 
 
 THE BUGLE. 
 Music by E. C. Riley. 
 
 Deep murmuring down the lonely dell, 
 The dull tattoo, with drowsy swell, 
 Had bid the march- worn soldier rest, 
 With armour buckled on his breast. 
 
 But, hark ! what cry alarms ? 
 
 The foe at hand ! to arms ! 
 
 And, darting from the ground, 
 
 The slumbering veterans bound, 
 While the bugle sounds the charge, rousing echo with 
 
 the sound. 
 
 And now the cannon s sullen roar, 
 Deep rolls along Ontario s shore, 
 While Freedom s sons surprised remain, 
 Their watchword stole their pickets slain. 
 In vain their trump alarms, 
 In vain they cry, to arms ! 
 The foe from ambush springs, 
 Their yell the welkin rings, 
 
 While the bugle sounds retreat, adding speed to ter 
 ror s wings. 
 
 Shall Freedom s veterans fly the field, 
 Her heroes shrink her chieftains yield? 
 Say, where s the spirit of the brave 
 Who bled Columbia s rights to save? 
 
PATRIOTIC. 119 
 
 It lives ! it breathes ! it warms ! 
 Roused by the clash of arms, 
 Vengeance, with eye of flame, 
 Fires with a love of fame, 
 
 While the bugle sounds the rally, until victory we 
 claim. 
 
 LA FAYETTE S WELCOME. 
 
 Air When first infant Liberty. 
 
 The banner of Liberty, proudly unfurl d, 
 
 Is waving in triumph o er turret and dome, 
 For the hero, whose fame has enlightened the world, 
 
 Revisits a people who welcome him home. 
 The hero, who, spurning the pleasures that wait 
 On fortune and rank, in the halls of the great, 
 The foes of Columbia intrepidly met, 
 Our national guest, is the brave La Fayette. 
 
 He saw infant Liberty struggling for life, 
 
 When clouds of despair had her prospects o ercast, 
 The tempest was raging, he courted the strife, 
 His generous bosom was bared to the blast. 
 Then welcome him, freemen ! he succour d our cause, 
 With Washington fought for our rights and our laws ; 
 The foes of Columbia intrepidly met, 
 Then hail the return of the brave La Fayette. 
 
120 MELODIES. 
 
 A MASONIC ODE. 
 
 Air Hail to the Chief. 
 
 Dark was the hour, when Columbia, despairing, 
 
 Breathed her petitions for succour in vain, 
 While in her vallies the war-torch was glaring, 
 
 Sweeping her hamlets and cots from the plain. 
 Wounded and bleeding her sons were retiring, 
 Flush d with successes, the foeman pursued ; 
 Freedom and Hope seem d in tortures expiring, 
 Heroes were sleeping in death, unsubdued 
 " Great source of light!" she cried, 
 " No more thy presence hide, 
 "/* there no help? We are sorely beset." 
 Soon as the mourner spoke, 
 Bright rays of glory broke, 
 Round a young hero the brave La Fayette. 
 
 Lo ! from the east , with a mystic resplendence, 
 
 Rose the bright star which enlightened the gloom ; 
 Led by its ray, and our loved Independence, 
 
 Came the young knight, with his bright glossy plume. 
 Washington saw, and with rapture elated, 
 
 Press d to his bosom the chivalrous boy ; 
 Tyranny frown d, and with hate unabated, 
 
 Sought, like a Herod, the youth to destroy. 
 Fierce raged the vengeful fray, 
 Till freemen gain d the day, 
 
 Age-frosted veterans remember it yet : 
 
PATRIOTIC. 121 
 
 Then gallant Washington 
 Hail d Gallia s godlike son, 
 Champion of freedom, the brave La Fayette. 
 
 Thus was the temple of freedom erected, 
 
 Crown d with the key-stone of union and love; 
 Wisdom, and Beauty, and Strength, were connecters 
 
 Three noble pillars which nothing can move. 
 Tyrants may rage, and in triple alliance, 
 
 Seek to demolish so sacred a dome ; 
 Trusting in Heaven, we bid them defiance, 
 While we thus welcome its architect home. 
 Hail ! friend of Washington ! 
 Hail ! Gallia s godlike son ! 
 Brother ! companion ! as such dearer yet, 
 Long may thy friendly smile 
 Our festive hours beguile, 
 Long may freemasons thus hail La Fayette. 
 
 LA FAYETTE. 
 
 When the lily of Gallia first bloom d in our valley, 
 Twas planted by one we shall never forget, 
 
 It was spotless and white, like the delicate light 
 Which beam d from the eye of the young La Fayette. 
 
 When the ever-green laurel we won in the quarrel, 
 By Washington s finger beside it was set, 
 
 O the beautiful cluster emitted a lustre 
 Like that which now circles the brave La Fayette. 
 11 
 
122 MELODIES. 
 
 HAIL, LA FAYETTE! 
 
 Mr The Last Bugle. 
 
 Hark ! the martial drum hails the approach of the brave ! 
 The hero who comes o er the proud-swelling wave, 
 To the land he defended, the land of the free, 
 Which greets his return with a grand jubilee, 
 While her sons, to acknowledge sweet gratitude s debt, 
 Now awake the loud bugle, to hail La Fayette. 
 
 All hail, gallant soldier ! thy fame shall extend, 
 As Liberty s champion, and Washington s friend, 
 Till all, in the light of its glory, shall see 
 A world disenthrall d, independent, and free; 
 While millions, inspired by sweet gratitude s debt, 
 Shall awake the loud bugle, to hail La Fayette. 
 
 LA FAYETTE. 
 
 See him surrounded by admiring crowds, 
 
 And modestly receive their salutations, 
 While their united plaudits rend the clouds, 
 
 To prove republics may be grateful nations. 
 Behold him grasp some hoary veteran s hand, 
 
 Or press an old associate to his breast, 
 While in his eyes the tears of rapture stand, 
 
 By which the noblest feelings are exprest. 
 
 Behold him in the festive scene, where one 
 Full tide of pleasure through each bosom flowi, 
 
PATRIOTIC. 123 
 
 Or bending o er the tomb of Washington, 
 Or on the ensanguined spot where freedom s foes 
 Beheld him leading her resistless van 
 In every scene you find him still a man. 
 But O, the moral grandeur of that hour, 
 When introduced beneath our Senate s dome, 
 The solemn conclave hailed him welcome home, 
 Leaves human language destitute of power 
 To do it justice. It was more sublime 
 Than any scene upon the page of time. 
 
 THE GOD OF BATTLE. 
 
 Music by Swindells. 
 
 The god of battle be thy shield, 
 And guard my love from danger, 
 
 When havoc desolates the field, 
 Whence pity flies a stranger. 
 
 Where hearts, determined to be free, 
 
 Assume relentless rigour, 
 And arms which strike for liberty, 
 
 Possess immortal vigour, 
 
 There guard my gallant soldier s breast, 
 Till victory light upon his crest ; 
 And when the foeman flies before him, 
 O then to love and me restore him. 
 
124 MELODIES. 
 
 PROGRESS OF IMPROVEMENT. 
 
 Yes, blest Columbians ! In this favour d clime, 
 What new-born beauties mark the track of time ! 
 His every footstep, through the forest s gloom, 
 Gives birth to flowerets of unfading bloom. 
 No crumbling towers (the monuments of pride 
 And stern oppression) at his touch divide ; 
 No fertile fields here fade beneath his tread, 
 No smoke of blazing cities wreathes his head ; 
 But in his path a blushing Eden springs, 
 While countless joys are scatter d from his wings ! 
 
 Our late departed guest, brave La Fayette, 
 To whom Columbia owes so vast a debt, 
 With almost speechless joy and wonder, traced 
 Refinement s progress through the savage waste, 
 Where erst his youthful arm had bared the blade, 
 The drooping cause of liberty to aid ; 
 When from a princely court he sped his way 
 To meet the foes of freedom in the fray; 
 Resolved for glory s dazzling goal to run, 
 And share the prize with none but Washington ! 
 
 Where then dark forests echoed war s alarms, 
 The veteran now beheld rich cultured farms ! 
 With meadows, orchards, fields of waving grain, 
 And herds of cattle grazing on the plain ! 
 Where then the wolf and panther prowl d for prey, 
 He now beheld our flocks in safety stray ! 
 
PATRIOTIC. 125 
 
 Saw lowing kine supply the milk-maid s pail, 
 Where antlered stags once hounded through the vale ! 
 And heard the shepherd s wild-notes sweetly swell 
 O er the rocks once startled by the Indian yell ! 
 
 More westward still, he turn d his wondering eyes, 
 Where hamlets, towns, and villages, arise 
 Along the course of that stupendous chain 
 Which now unites fair Erie to the main. 
 Commerce was there, in all his golden pride, 
 With blooming agriculture at his side ; 
 While smiling plenty followed in their train, 
 And pour d her bounties o er the teeming plain; 
 The chief beheld, and felt his bosom glow, 
 To view the blessings which from freedom flow. 
 
 But when he saw the sages of the land 
 Convened, to place in some deserving hand 
 The reins of power, the car of state to guide, 
 In peace or war, whatever fate betide ; 
 A chief installed, without that vain parade 
 Which dazzles vassals when their kings are made 
 Fired with the moral grandeur of the scene, 
 With tear-drops gushing from an eye serene, 
 He saw he heard and with expanding breast, 
 Pronounced Columbia s sons supremely blest. 
 
 Fair Science her portals of light shall unfold, 
 And Genius soar upwards on pinions of gold. 
 
126 MELODIES. 
 
 INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 Air The Reel of Tullochgorum.* 
 
 Come crowd around the festive board, 
 And join the song with one accord, 
 Be every breast with pleasure stored, 
 
 And care and envy send hence. 
 Our dear-bought freedom we will praise, 
 Dear bought freedom dear bought freedom 
 Our dear-bought freedom we will praise, 
 
 The right of our descendants ; 
 Our dear-bought freedom we will praise, 
 And every glowing heart shall raise 
 The chorus of our joyful lays, 
 
 Columbia s Independence. 
 
 Be party rancour banish d hence, 
 For peace is virtue s recompense ; 
 Friendship and love on no pretence 
 
 Should ever meet with hinderance. 
 Let sons of freedom e er agree 
 Sons of freedom sons of freedom 
 Let sons of freedom e er agree, 
 
 In amity s attendance ; 
 Let sons of freedom e er agree, 
 For why should men, existing free, 
 Deform with discord s stormy sea 
 
 Columbia s Independence ? 
 
 * A celebrated Scotch dance, much in vogue at Aberdeen, in Scotland 
 
PATRIOTIC. 127 
 
 We here assemble to rejoice 
 That patriots, with united voice, 
 Once rose and made this manly choice, 
 
 For them and their descendants. 
 They freedom s eagle raised on high 
 Freedom s eagle freedom s eagle 
 They freedom s eagle raised on high, 
 
 Amid the stars resplendence ; 
 They freedom s eagle raised on high, 
 And swore to fight or bravely die, 
 If foreign despots dare deny 
 
 Columbia s Independence. 
 
 Bellona goads her foaming steeds, 
 Beneath her car oppression bleeds, 
 And tyranny with haste recedes, 
 
 With all its curst attendants ; 
 Our patriot fathers gain d the day 
 Patriot fathers patriot fathers 
 Our patriot fathers gain d the day, 
 
 For them and their descendants ; 
 Our patriot fathers gain d the day, 
 For which we raise the joyful lay, 
 And on our banners still display 
 
 Columbia s Independence. 
 
 Then freedom bade her temple rise, 
 Whose fabric every foe defies, 
 While joyous seraphs from the skies 
 Bestow their glad attendance ; 
 
128 MELODIES. 
 
 And shades of martyrs smiling see 
 Shades of martyrs shades of martyrs 
 And shades of martyrs smiling see 
 
 The joy of their descendants; 
 And shades of martyrs smiling see 
 Their sons united, brave and free, 
 And yearly hail, with mirth and glee, 
 
 Columbia s Independence. 
 
 PRINTERS ODE. 
 
 Air Anacreon in heaven. 
 
 From the crystalline courts of the temple of light, 
 
 The dove-eye of mercy to earth was directed, 
 Where mortals were grov ling, deep shrouded in night ; 
 For passion was worshipp d and wisdom rejected: 
 Immersed in each ill 
 Of corrupted free-will, 
 Yet mercy was patient, and patience slept still : 
 
 For infinite Love had his banner unfurl d, 
 And the precepts of wisdom were preach d to the world. 
 
 But haughty ambition extended his reign, 
 
 And wielded the sceptre of magic delusion, 
 Held reason enshackled in tyranny s chain, 
 
 And govern d by knowledge and learning s exclusion. 
 With mitre and hood, 
 Superstition and blood, 
 Corruption and vice deluged earth like a flood ; 
 
PATRIOTIC. 129 
 
 The blood-crimson d banner of war was unfurl d, 
 And knowledge and science were swept from the world. 
 
 Deep lock d in the shrine of antiquity s lore, 
 
 The Scriptures of light were withheld unexpounded, 
 A counterfeit Peter still guarded the door, 
 
 And the seekers of truth were by error confounded. 
 Omnipotence saw 
 Bade delusion withdraw, 
 
 And ordain d that our art should promulgate his law. 
 Then Genius his fetters at tyranny hurl d, 
 And printing appeared, to enlighten the world. 
 
 The blush of Aurora now lighted the east, 
 
 And banish d the darkness of mystical terror : 
 Man sprang from the shrine of the mystical beast, 
 While prejudice own d and relinquish d his error, 
 The truth was received, 
 Admired and believed, 
 
 And our s is the art which the blessing achieved: 
 For now was the banner of wisdom unfurl d, 
 And printing arose, like a sun, to the world. 
 
 The sage of Genoa, whose emulous soul, 
 
 By a flash from our art, glow d with new inspiration ; 
 In brilliant perspective saw glory s bright goal, 
 And enroll d a new world on the page of creation. 
 With high-swelling breast, 
 Still onward he press d, 
 Till Eden s bright regions appear d in the west, 
 
130 MELODIES. 
 
 Each clime saw the canvas of Europe unfurl d, 
 While printing taught commerce to polish the world. 
 
 But the sons of the west to more glory were born, 
 
 And to us shall proud Europe the laurel surrender; 
 For tho her s was the blushing effulgence of morn, 
 Yet our s is the noon of meridian splendour; 
 For Heaven decreed 
 That Columbia be freed, 
 And printing and valour accomplish d the deed. 
 The banner of war was by justice unfurl d, 
 And freedom by printing proclaim d to the world. 
 
 Our standard the eagle of liberty bears, 
 
 His eyes, like the stars that surround him, resplendent, 
 While the olive asks peace, every arrow declares, 
 Columbia for ever shall be independent ; 
 For freedom is our s, 
 Nor shall Europe s mad powers 
 A feather e er filch from our bird as he towers; 
 And while a free PRESS thus enlightens the world, 
 The banner of Liberty ne er shall be furl d. 
 
 MY LYRE. 
 
 Columbia call d to arms her heroes sprung, 
 I felt the impulse, and of glory sung ; 
 Swept o er the chords, assumed a loftier lay, 
 And venturous dared with bolder hand to play. 
 
PATRIOTIC. 131 
 
 ART OF PRINTING. 
 
 Air The Dauphin. 
 
 When o er proud Tiber s flood 
 
 Fair Science rear d her dome, 
 And Greece had lent her arts 
 
 To gild imperial Rome ; 
 Ambitious Genius aim d her flight 
 
 To seek Unknown renown, 
 But, veil d in sable shades of night, 
 
 She sunk bewildered down ; 
 For fate to them denied the art 
 
 Which gives to knowledge birth, 
 Refines the human heart, 
 
 And scatters bliss on earth. 
 
 No soft refinements graced 
 
 Or harmonized the mind, 
 For maddening war s career 
 
 Left calmer joys behind; 
 The social ties which life endear 
 
 Their thoughts could ne er engage; 
 The sympathetic smile and tear 
 
 Were lost in battle s rage : 
 For fate to them denied the art 
 
 Which gives to knowledge birth, 
 Refines the human heart, 
 
 And scatters bliss on earth. 
 
13 J MELODIES. 
 
 Time told a thousand years 
 
 On his eventful page, 
 When Faust, at length, appears 
 
 To bless the happy age ; 
 His plastic hand lends genius wings. 
 
 Bids wisdom proudly soar, 
 And infant learning joyful springs 
 
 With powers unknown before. 
 His was the heaven-descended art 
 
 To give fair knowledge birth, 
 To mend the human heart, 
 
 And civilize the earth. 
 
 The sun of science rose, 
 
 And chased the clouds of night; 
 While wondering realms survey d, 
 
 Astonish d at the sight 
 The social arts, in wisdom s train, 
 
 With love and peace advance, 
 Teach man to feel his fellow s pain, 
 
 A brother s joy enhance. 
 Ours is the heaven-descended art 
 
 To give fair knowledge birth, 
 To mend the human heart, 
 
 And civilize the earth. 
 
 Hail, art of arts! all hail! 
 
 Thy praises mock the lyre ; 
 To reach the boundless theme, 
 
 Its tones in vain aspire ; 
 
PATRIOTIC. 133 
 
 But grateful hearts, who feel the bliss 
 
 Thy magic power bestows, 
 Respond to every strain like this, 
 
 How dull soe er it flows : 
 Our s is the heaven-descended art, 
 
 To give fair knowledge birth, 
 To mend the human heart, 
 
 And civilize the earth. 
 
 NEW-YORK. 
 
 As Freedom s first-born, this, our happy land, 
 First in the rank of nations still shall stand. 
 Here freedom, learning, piety, and worth, 
 Proclaim our country queen of all the earth ; 
 To whom such boundless stores of bliss are given, 
 As mark her for the favoured child of heaven. 
 But, though each section of our realm be blest, 
 There s one, to me, still dearer than the rest 
 Tis that lov d region, famed for arts and arms, 
 Where patriot virtue every bosom warms ; 
 Where Literature has reared her classic dome, 
 And heaven-descended science finds a home ; 
 Whose eldest city now can proudly vie 
 With any rival neath the western sky ; 
 Whose towns, and hamlets, villages, and farms, 
 Are dress d in art s and nature s richest charms ; 
 While through the whole extends that lucid chain, 
 Which now unites fair Erie with the main! 
 12 
 
134 MELODIES. 
 
 PRINTING AND INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 Air Rise, Columbia. 
 
 When, wrapp d in folds of papal gloom, 
 Dark superstition awed the world, 
 
 Consign d fair knowledge to the tomb, 
 And error s sable flag unfurl d ; 
 
 Earth heard the mandate from the skies 
 
 " Let there be light great ART, arise!" 
 
 Young Science wiped her tears and smiled, 
 And infant Genius plumed his wing ; 
 
 The arts assemble round the child, 
 And all this glowing chorus sing 
 
 Rise, sun of science ! quick arise ! 
 
 And lend thy light to darken d eyes. 
 
 Our Art arose, and man had light, 
 
 The clouds of superstition fled, 
 The fiend of ignorance took his flight, 
 
 And Error hid his hateful head ; 
 Whilst swell d this chorus to the skies 
 " Our Art shall live, and Freedom rise." 
 
 The goddess, who for ages past 
 Had wept beneath despotic night, 
 
 Her cankering fetters burst at last, 
 And claim d the charter of her right , 
 
 While men and seraphs join d this strain-.* 
 
 Printing shall live, and Freedom reign n 
 
PATRIOTIC. 136 
 
 Hail, Freedom ! hail, celestial guest ! 
 
 O never from thy sons depart ; 
 Thine be the empire of the west, 
 
 Thy temple every freeman s heart ; 
 The Art of Printing gave thee birth, 
 And brightens still thy reign on earth. 
 
 Arise, ye favour d sons of light, 
 Professors of our heaven-born ART 
 
 And in the chorus all unite, 
 
 While joy expands the throbbing heart; 
 
 " The Art of Printing shall endure, 
 
 "And Independence be secure." 
 
 HARK! THE CLAMOROUS BUGLE. 
 
 He.. .Hark ! the clamorous bugle calls me, 
 
 Fare thee well, I must away ; 
 She.. .How, alas! the sound appals me! 
 Heaven protect thee in the fray. 
 
 He Fame invites me, 
 
 She Danger frights me, 
 
 He Danger is the path to fame; 
 
 She Fame shall bless thee ; 
 
 Love caress thee, 
 
 He Love and glory gild my name. 
 
 She.. .Hark ! again the bugle loudly 
 
 Both Echoes through the leafy dell; 
 
 Warrior plumes are nodding proudly ; 
 He. . . Glory calls me, fare thee well. 
 Both. . . Fare thee well, love, fare thee well. 
 
136 MELODIES. 
 
 TYPOGRAPHICAL ODE. 
 
 Air Let Fame sound the trumpet. 
 
 Awake the loud trumpet, tis Freedom invites, 
 
 Let heroes respond to the strain ; 
 The olive of peace with the laurel unites, 
 
 And music swells sweet o er the plain. 
 Thy birth, Independence, by freemen be kept, 
 
 Till Tyranny s banner be furl d, 
 Till despots have bled, where their victims have wept, 
 
 And Freedom has spread o er the world. 
 
 When dark Superstition had fetter d the mind, 
 
 And Reason in bondage was bound, 
 The goddess descended to ransom mankind, 
 
 And Genius arose from the ground. 
 The PRESS she establish d, a pillar of fire, 
 
 (While night s sable curtain was furl d,) 
 Its splendour bade mystic delusion retire, 
 
 And PRINTING gave light to the world. 
 
 The daring Columbus his canvas unfurl d, 
 
 A nation arose in the west, 
 The store-house of Europe, a mart for the world, 
 
 A home for the poor and oppress d. 
 HereFreedom s bright temple effulgent shall shine, 
 
 Her flag o er its turrets unfurl d, 
 Our arms have twice saved it, twill never decline 
 
 While PRINTING gives light to the world. 
 
PATRIOTIC. 
 
 THE GRAND CANAL. 
 
 Air Huzza ! Here s Columbia for ever ! 
 
 Triumphant ! victorious ! the rapturous lay 
 
 The voice of each freeman awakes, 
 For Neptune and Erie were wedded to-day, 
 
 The ocean is join d to the lakes. 
 Tis the triumph of mind over matter we hail, 
 
 In pseans of rapture and praise ; 
 The genius of Clinton will ever prevail, 
 
 And light the whole world with its rays. 
 Huzza ! huzza ! huzza ! for the work is completed. 
 
 The glory and pride of our state. 
 
 The waters have met, and they never can part, 
 
 While the earth shall continue to roll ; 
 Of the universe now is our city the mart, 
 
 And its fame shall enlighten the whole. 
 Tis the triumph of mind over matter we hail, 
 
 In pseans of rapture and praise, 
 The genius of Clinton will ever prevail, 
 
 And light the whole world with its rays. 
 Huzza ! huzza ! huzza ! for the work is completed, 
 
 The glory and pride of the state. 
 
 CRITICISM. 
 
 To native genius would you prove a friend, 
 Point out his faults, and teach him how to mend. 
 
138 MELODIES. 
 
 HAIL TO THE ART. 
 
 Air Hail to the Chief. 
 
 Hail to the Art, whose effulgence has brighten d 
 
 The darkness that shrouded, for ages, the world ; 
 Long shall her sons, by its lustre enlighten d, 
 Wave the bright banner which Freedom unfurl d. 
 
 Dark was the human mind, 
 
 And hood-wink d reason blind, 
 While Tyranny gave to his war-steeds the rein ; 
 
 Then Faust arose to bless, 
 
 And gave to man the press, 
 Free as the billows of Neptune s domain. 
 
 Then Liberty roused from the slumber of ages, 
 And taught a new nation to rise in the west ; 
 While history, smiling, unfolded her pages, 
 And show d the bright name of Columbia impress d. 
 
 Long fought her patriot band, 
 
 Blood flow d around the land, 
 Till liberty triumph d o er tyranny s powers ; 
 
 The light which printing shed, 
 
 Like Sol s effulgence spread, 
 And glory, with bright Independence, was ours. 
 
 Beaming with splendour, from Liberty s altar, 
 
 Ascended the flame which our art had kept bright, 
 
 When demons united again to assault her, 
 Demolish her shrine, and extinguish its light. 
 
PATRIOTIC. 130 
 
 Hark! trumpets sound alarms; 
 
 Drums, bugles, call to arms 
 Arouse, freemen, rouse ! to the field like your sires 
 
 Soon shall the foeman yield, 
 
 Or fly the embattled field, 
 For Liberty triumphs while Printing inspires. 
 
 Fwice have our arms Independence protected, 
 
 And twice haughty Britain has yielded the fight ; 
 Long shall our valour and rights be respected, 
 Long shall the blaze of our glory be bright. 
 
 Then hail the heaven-born art, 
 
 Which first improved the heart, 
 And ransom d the mind from the thraldom of sense; 
 
 Long shall Columbia bless 
 
 The free unshackled Press, 
 Liberty s ^Egis, and Virtue s defence. 
 
 COLUMBIA. 
 
 Here freedom shall flourish a star in the west; 
 The dove and the eagle together shall rest ; 
 While science shall glow with a lustre more bright, 
 And genius soar upwards on pinions of light. 
 
 The arts shall increase and refinement extend, 
 New graces to beauty shall piety lend ; 
 The demon of selfishness shrink to his hole, 
 And the form of each action have use for its soul. 
 
140 MELODIES. 
 
 PRINTERS JUBILEE. 
 
 Air Hail to the Chief. 
 
 Hark ! twas the trumpet of Freedom that sounded, 
 
 Millions of voices respond to the strain, 
 Hailing the day when an empire was founded, 
 
 Firm as our mountains, and free as the main ! 
 Brightly the star of its glory is beaming 
 
 Loudly the paeans of gladness arise ; 
 Gaily our star-spangled banners are streaming ; 
 Proudly our cannon are shaking the skies. 
 Tis Freedom s Jubilee, 
 Then join ye brave and free, 
 Hail its return, independent and blest ! 
 Wake music s sweetest voice, 
 Long may we thus rejoice ! 
 Hail to Columbia, the queen of the west ! 
 
 Dark was the gloom which her temple surrounded, 
 
 Sad were the sighs that exhausted her breath, 
 When, from its deep-vaulted roof, first resounded, 
 
 The soul stirring words Independence or Death ! 
 Franklin, the pride of our art and the nation, 
 
 Fixed on the charter of glory his seal, 
 Freemen confirmed it, with loud acclamation, 
 Heaven has sanctioned the solemn appeal. 
 Sons of the brightest art 
 Heaven can to man impart, 
 Join in the chorus our country is blest 
 
FATj-aonc. 141 
 
 This is her Jubilee, 
 Long shall her sons be free ; 
 Hail to Columbia, the queen of the west ! 
 
 Long wets the struggle for freedom and glory ; 
 
 Fierce was the conflict our fathers sustained ; 
 Bright are their actions emblazoned in story: 
 
 Long may we guard what their valour obtained. 
 Hail to the art which such zeal could awaken I 
 
 Long may it flourish, their sons to inspire ; 
 Freedom for ever the world had forsaken, 
 Had not the Press been " a pillar of fire." 
 Sons of the brightest art 
 Heaven can to man impart, 
 Join in the chorus our country is blest ; 
 This is her Jubilee 
 Long may her sons be free 
 Hail to Columbia, the queen of the west. 
 
 OUR COUNTRY. 
 
 Now Commerce revives, and her hundred wheels roll, 
 Our canvas is spread from equator to pole ; 
 Antipodes gaze on our banner unfurl d, 
 For the course of our eagle shall girdle the world. 
 
 The genius of plenty her office resumes, 
 The treasures of India Arabia s perfumes, 
 Each gem and each fruit that the world can produce, 
 Her horn pours around for our pleasure or use. 
 
142 MELODIES. 
 
 THE JUBILEE. 
 
 Air Anacreon in heaven. 
 
 While freedom s bright banner is waving unfurl d, 
 
 And millions are hailing the birth of a nation, 
 Let the voice of our cannon proclaim to the world 
 The joy that we feel on this grand celebration. 
 Independent and free, 
 We swear still to be, 
 
 And bequeath to our children this bright Jubilee. 
 And millions unborn shall exultingly say, 
 A nation of freemen was born in a day. 
 
 But long was the conflict our fathers sustain d, 
 
 For strong was the iron-nerved arm of oppression, 
 Till valour and justice the victory gain d, 
 
 And wrung from the foe a reluctant concession. 
 In field, and on flood, 
 Mid torrents of blood, 
 
 Undaunted, the bulwark of freedom, they stood, 
 Till an empire was founded that ne er shall decay, 
 When a nation of freemen was born in a day. 
 
 Their souls at no prospect of danger e er quaked, 
 
 In securing the right of their grateful descendants, 
 For fortune, existence, and honour, were staked, 
 To support the bold charter of proud independence. 
 They swore to be free, 
 And the godlike decree 
 Secures us the bliss of this grand jubilee. 
 
PATRIOTIC. 143 
 
 For an empire was founded that ne er shall decay, 
 And a nation of freemen was born in a day. 
 
 ?he white dove of peace with her olive return d, 
 By science, and learning, and genius attended, 
 )n liberty s altar new incense was burn d, 
 Where valour and love were in harmony blended. 
 In union combin d, 
 They expanded the mind, 
 ?ill ocean, and rivers, and lakes are combined. 
 Thus an empire is founded, that ne er shall decay, 
 Since a nation of freemen was born in a day. 
 
 ?hen wake the loud anthem in liberty s praise, 
 
 While millions unite in the grand celebration, 
 Lnd the symbols of joy which our country displays, 
 Shall spread thro the world a sublime emulation. 
 Till happy and free, 
 All nations agree, 
 !*o celebrate Liberty s grand jubilee. 
 And millions unborn shall exultingly say, 
 A nation of freemen was born in a day 
 
 OUR COUNTRY. 
 
 The names of our heroes, recorded by Fame, 
 Shall glow in her tablets in letters of flame ; 
 And patriots, and sages, and bards yet unborn, 
 With splendour as brilliant the page shall adorn. 
 
POEMS. 
 
 EPISTLES, TALES, RECITATIONS, &.O. 
 
 THE ZODIAC. 
 
 Addressed to a young lady, on New-Year s Day. 
 
 Dear Julia Philosophers gravely assert 
 That our beautiful world is a spherule of dirt, 
 That rolls, in a circuit, through regions of space, 
 And pas&es, each year, through the very same place ; 
 That while it turns over, hy day or by night, 
 We scarcely know whether we er standing upright; 
 But, yet, that our love for it sticks us so fast, 
 We cannot fall off but adhere to the last. 
 
 The truth of such doctrine I will not dispute, 
 Because I m engaged in another pursuit ; 
 Besides, since I first crept about this machine, 
 Such queer topsy-turvy manoeuvres I ve seen, 
 That twenty to one (as the learned have said) 
 But mortals are, half the time, heels over head, 
 Yet, still, as a poet, you know, I am bound 
 To believe that the sun always travels around 
 13 
 
140 POEMS. 
 
 The turnpike of heaven, in chnriot of fire, 
 Drawn rapidly onward by steeds that ne er tire, 
 Nor stop to refresh, tho they pass, as they fly, 
 The signs of a dozen fine inns, in the sky. 
 
 When last I address d yon, this bright charioteer 
 Was galloping 1 on in his brilliant career, 
 The steeds from their nostrils still vomiting flame, 
 As past the next stage-house they rapidly came. 
 Poor Phoebus in vain might have thirsted for wine, 
 For nothing but water appeared on the sign: 
 So onward he drove in the bright starry zone, 
 And left the cold cheerless Aquarius alone. 
 
 The scaly star, Pisces, soon greeted his eye, 
 His old stopping-place, if the ancients don t lie, 
 Who counted this stage as the last on his rout, 
 Its sign is so tempting a fine salmon trout. 
 But soon the fierce steeds left it far in the rear, 
 For another, that promised some mutton, was near; 
 That Ram which had once a fair rider upon t, 
 And let her fall plump in the famed Hellespont ; 
 The crooked-horn Aries, whose rich golden fleece 
 Was carried by Jason, in triumph, to Greece, 
 Was the sign that invited the driver to bait, 
 But nothing, it seems, could induce him to wait ; 
 A crack of his whip, and the mettlesome steeds 
 Start forward like lightning, while Aries recedes. 
 
 But Phoebus, tis said, when he saw the next sign> 
 Was almost determin d to stop and to dine ; 
 
EPISTLES. 147 
 
 For the golden-horn d Bull, which so gallantly bore 
 The lovely Europa to Crete s happy shore, 
 Invitingly promised, for hunger s relief, 
 A fine smoking sirloin of English roast beef. 
 
 Apollo, however, regardless of inns, 
 Drove onward, nor even accosted the Twins, 
 Those famous Tyndarian brothers, that dwell, 
 By changes alternate, in heaven or hell ; 
 The comrades of Jason in winning the fleece, 
 Whose smiles, it is said, lull the tempest to peace, 
 If sailors sincerely their favours invoke, 
 To save from the wreck which the billows have broke. 
 Behind were the Crab and the Lion afar, 
 As well as the Virgin, Engone s star ; 
 Astrea s bright balance now glow d on his sight, 
 It trembled he threw in a handful of light, 
 And finding the darkness just equall d the day, 
 He whipp d up his horses, and posted away. 
 The Scorpion and Centaur he rapidly pass d, 
 And Pan, his old friend, he saluted at last ; 
 For his steeds, at the moment these verses were wrote, 
 Was galloping up to the sign of the Goat. 
 In pure native English, your minstrel would say, 
 That another New-Year is commencing to-day. 
 
 Dear Julia, may blessings attend its return, 
 While life s little taper continues to burn ; 
 And then, when the last welcome summons you hear. 
 May you wake to a happy, thrice happy New Year. 
 
148 EPISTLES. 
 
 TO A YOUNG LADY, 
 
 With a miniature volume of Montgomery s Poems, as 
 published in Boston, 1807. 
 
 [A JUVENILE PRODUCTION.] 
 
 Accept, lovely maiden, this little bequest, 
 
 An advocate certain my suit to obtain ; 
 To the generous, feeling, susceptible breast, 
 
 The muse of MONTGOMERY plead not in vain. 
 
 And when that sweet eye of cerulean hue, 
 Drops the warm tear of pity for virtue distressed, 
 
 Then think of the donor, whose sympathy true, 
 The number thou shed st will engrave on his breast. 
 
 While Switzerland s Wanderer draws on the heart 
 For the tribute which sentiment e er must bestow; 
 
 Then think of thy friend, in a far distant part, 
 A Wanderer press d with his portion of wo. 
 
 And when o er the Grave thou art bending with pain, 
 But a pain not unmingled with pensive delight, 
 
 Let one gem of pity be shed for the swain 
 
 Who is buried to pleasure, when banished thy sight. 
 
 While the tones of the Lyre brighten sadness to joy, 
 And thou hearest with rapture its solacing lays, 
 
 Remember the youth whose delightful employ 
 Is to sing to his lyre while it warbles thy praise. 
 
TO A LADY. 149 
 
 The Remonstrance to Winter is heard and obeyed, 
 And Flora unfolds every beautiful hue ; 
 
 But remember, tho nature in spring is arrayed, 
 To me all is winter while absent from you. 
 
 The Fowler s simplicity cannot but please, 
 Religion has beauties that never decay ; 
 
 E en Grief has its Joy, and anguish finds ease, 
 In listening to pious Montgomery s lay. 
 
 Alexandria s Battle admire, not approve, 
 
 But haste from the scene to the Pillow for rest ; 
 
 On the pinion of fancy then pensively rove, 
 But let thy friend s image still dwell in thy breast. 
 
 View Brown with compassion, breathe pity s soft sigh, 
 
 For sorrows unmerited, cruel, unjust ; 
 But smile on the Thunder-storm rolling on high, 
 
 Tis the voice of thy God, but he wars not with dust- 
 Hail the brave Volunteers of Albion s isle, 
 
 And cherish the patriot glow in thy breast ; 
 St. Mark s ancient Vigil a tear may beguile, 
 
 Thy friend then remember, like Edwin distressed. 
 
 Remember thy friend is the donor s request, 
 And this Advocate proffers his suit to obtain ; 
 
 To the generous, feeling, susceptible breast, 
 The muse of Montgomery pleads not in vain. 
 
 13* 
 
150 POEMS. 
 
 THE SEASON S. 
 
 To the same, with a volume of Thompson s Seasons. 
 
 Julia each season of the changeful year, 
 In every stage of fleeting time s career, 
 Comes with a wreath of joy around it thrown, 
 Some bliss, peculiar to itself alone ; 
 For Heaven, throughout creation s wondrous plan, 
 Has had but one end the happiness of man. 
 
 Pregnant with buds and flowers, the Spring appears, 
 Like a young bride, arrayed in smiles and tears; 
 Then sweetest odours float on every breeze, 
 And new-made liveries clothe the sturdy trees ; 
 Each bush and shrub a verdant garb assumes, 
 The apple blossoms, and the lilac blooms ; 
 A thousand flowerets in the meadow spring, 
 And feathered choirs their grateful anthems sing; 
 While vallies, hills, and woods, in rich array, 
 Hail, with delight, the bright return of May. 
 
 Then Summer comes, the noontide of the year, 
 When the sun gallops in his full career ; 
 She comes her brows with yellow wheat-ears crown d, 
 Her laughing face by heat and toil embrown d ; 
 She comes with full and bounteous hand to bring 
 Ah 1 that was promised by the hopeful Spring. 
 Tis then the long protracted sultry day 
 Perfects the embryon blossoms on each spray ; 
 
EPISTLES. 151 
 
 Bids the young fruit with richest juices teem, 
 And blush and ripen in the solar beam ; 
 Then scarlet strawberries court the eager taste, 
 And luscious melons yield a sweet repast ; 
 While nectarious berries of each varied dye, 
 On every buth and bramble greet the eye. 
 
 Next, temperate Autumn comes upon the stage, 
 The sober mean twixt vigorous youth and age ; 
 The evening twilight of the fading year, 
 When objects all in mellowest tints appear; 
 When feathered songsters cease their tuneful notes, 
 And liveried groves appear with yellow coats ; 
 The fruit-trees then, with golden burdens bend, 
 And clustering grapes from shadowy vines impend ; 
 Pomona s treasures lie in heaps around, 
 Scattered in rich profusion on the ground ; 
 From juicy apples, tortured in the mill, 
 Sweet streams of grateful beverage distil ; 
 While ponderous wagons every field displays, 
 Groaning beneath their loads of ripened maize. 
 
 Winter succeeds, with snow-wreaths on his brow 
 Julia, I feel his icy fingers now ! 
 Winter succeeds the midnight of the year, 
 And all the fields are barren, cold, and drear ; 
 He binds the streams and lakes in silver chains, 
 And hoary frost has candied all the plains ; 
 The liveried trees their yellow coats forego, 
 And shivering stand, in shrouds of frozen snow ; 
 
152 POEMS. 
 
 While the chill d sap leaves succorless the shoot, 
 And shrinks below, to cheer the dying root. 
 
 Nor is stern Winter s icy sceptre swayed 
 O er sylvan scenes alone his shafts invade 
 Our splendid city, too and every street 
 Is rendered cheerless by his pointed sleet ; 
 For every arrow from the centaur s bow, 
 Is tipt with ice, and feathered, too, with snow. 
 The Battery, now, each verdant charm has lost, 
 And e en the Park is silvered o er with frost ; 
 Vauxhall and Castle- Garden, late so gay, 
 Where night gave place to artificial day, 
 Are now deserted even Chatham mourns, 
 And all must droop till gentle Spring returns. 
 
 But still, amid his tempest s rude alarms, 
 Still Winter brings his own redeeming charms ; 
 Pleasures to no preceding season known, 
 Delights peculiar to himself alone. 
 His gelid breath (a healthful vapour, which 
 Screws up this living lyre to concert-pitch) 
 Enriches every fluid, and preserves 
 An equal tension of the chords and nerves. 
 Elastic as the air, our spirits soar, 
 By heat and languor now depressed no more ; 
 While health and vigour wanton through our veins, 
 And drive each azure demon from the brains. 
 
 But that blest space between the day and night, 
 A winter s evening, gives the most delight ; 
 
EPISTLES. 153 
 
 Sacred to friendship, love, and social mirth, 
 
 When kindred souls surround the blazing hearth, 
 
 Where wine, and wit, and sentiment abound, 
 
 And modest jests and repartees go round. 
 
 Or if the same domestic happy group, 
 
 Adjourn to hear our new Italian troupe;* 
 
 Or gaze intensely on the tragic scene, 
 
 When Conway, Cooper, Hamblin, Booth, or Kean, 
 
 Pours a bright flood of wonder o er their minds, 
 
 And in his train the captive stranger binds ; 
 
 Whether they join in laughing with the pit, 
 
 At Barnes s humour, or at Hilson s wit ; 
 
 Tremble at base lago s cruel hate, 
 
 Or mourn for lovely Belvidera s fate ; 
 
 Or weep, at Chatham, for poor Blanche s grief, 
 
 Inflicted by Clan Alpine s desperate chief; 
 
 And then, in pleased and breathless silence, hear 
 
 The requiem chanted o er his silent bier ; 
 
 Or with the brave Fitz-James, admiring view, 
 
 Fair Ellen guide her little frail canoe ; 
 
 Or view the Ethiop, from the Turkish tomb, 
 
 Rise like a troubled spirit through the gloom ; 
 
 Or should they mingle in the mazy dance, 
 
 Where hearts bound quick at beauty s tender glance, 
 
 : Tis still domestic bliss, wher e er they roam, 
 
 For every place, to kindred hearts, is home. 
 
 But Winter s brightest joy, in towns like this, 
 Is yet unsung I mean that scene of bliss 
 
 * This Epistle was written on Christmas Eve, 1825. 
 
154 POEMS. 
 
 To which our annual holy-days give birth, 
 A foretaste of Elysium here on earth ! 
 That period to generous hearts so dear, 
 That little week of joy that shuts the year, 
 And brings to light the bright auspicious morn, 
 When all unite to hail a New-Year born ! 
 
 In all my wanderings thro this vale of tears, 
 From infancy, to manhood s riper years, 
 Whatever pains assail d, or griefs oppress d, 
 Christmas and New- Year always saw me blesi! 
 A lengthened absence o er, how pleasant, then, 
 The friends I dearest love to meet again ! 
 Grasp the warm hand, or share the fond embrace, 
 And see new smiles lit up in every face ! 
 Twas Christmas eve ! the supper board was spread, 
 The fire blazed high, with logs of hickory fed ; 
 The candles, too, unusual lustre lent, 
 Candles expressly made for this event. 
 Old tales were told, the cheerful glass went round, 
 While peals of laughter made the cot resound. 
 A thousand welcomes hail d the truant boy, 
 And swift the moments flew on wings of joy; 
 Till (as they thought, too soon) the hour of prayer 
 Bade the young urchins to their beds repair. 
 But first the stocking, from each little leg, 
 Must be suspended to a hook or peg, 
 That Santaclaus, who travels all the night, 
 
 Might, in the dark, bestow his favours right ; 
 
 \ 
 
EPISTLES. 155 
 
 These rites observed, they take a parting kiss, 
 And go to dream of morning s promised bliss ! 
 Thus did a week of festive pleasures roll, 
 Till New- Year s happy morning crown d the whole. 
 
 But though long past are days and joys so dear, 
 Others as sweet still crown each fleeting year ; 
 E en brighter pleasures, now, tis mine to prove, 
 In Julia s friendship, and my Lydia s love. 
 While our gay prattlers, innocent as young, 
 Re-act the drama here so coldly sung, 
 Accept this token of my pure regard, 
 The Seasons, sung by an immortal bard, 
 The peerless THOMPSON ; hear his rural strains, 
 And you ll forget that blustering winter reigns ; 
 Accept this tribute of a heart sincere, 
 And be you happy many a future year. 
 
 FASHIONS. 
 
 Addressed to my friend, G. P. Morris, Esq. 
 
 How fashions change in this inconstant world ! 
 
 Powder and queues held undisputed sway 
 When I was young ; anon, the hair was curl d, 
 
 And, after that, the top-knot had its day. 
 
 The last, I understand, has given way 
 To Saunders plain-cropt crown. So much for men 
 
 The ladies bless their pretty faces ! may 
 Recount a thousand changes to our ten. 
 
156 POEMS. 
 
 There were the huge crape cushion, hoop, and stays, 
 To go no further back; my mother wore them 
 
 Before her marriage; and, in after days, 
 
 I ve heard her wish that fashion might restore them 
 
 Short waists, and long, have had alternate sway, 
 
 Since hoops were banished, to the present day. 
 
 And I have prized them all for I confess, 
 
 Tis my opinion, that the virtuous fair, 
 While they derive no one new charm from dress, 
 
 Impart a charm to every dress they wear. 
 
 But Fashion s freaks, we know, are not confined 
 
 To the habiliments her votaries wear ; 
 She even dictates to the immortal MIND, 
 
 And deigns to take beneath her tender care 
 Celestial genius, fancy, taste, and wit, 
 And e en religion, too, must oft submit ; 
 For since great Johnson frown d upon dissenters, 
 Tis the established church that Fashion enters ; 
 And were eachpm a diamond, she d not take one,. 
 Because the Doctor had not wit to make one; 
 Just as the fox condemn d the grapes as sour* 
 Because he found them not within his pow r. 
 
 Mark but the movements of the goddess, through 
 A few short years : Moore s Lyrics were in 
 
 Till Byron s vision burst upon the view, 
 
 Scattering, from demon wings, a storm of passion. 
 
EPISTLES. 157 
 
 Then fashion taught her votaries to adore 
 
 The idol which tempestuous clouds environ, 
 And left the sweet elysian fields of Moore, 
 
 To wander o er the Upas realms of Byron, 
 With bones of human victims covered o er, 
 Or to the snow-capt mountain trembling soar, 
 Where huge volcanoes vomit quenchless flame, 
 Fierce as his soul, and brilliant as his fame. 
 
 Scott was, awhile, the star of the ascendant, 
 (If Scott wrote Waverly and Kenilworth,) 
 And dazzled with a glory as resplendent 
 As ever beam d upon the moral earth 
 Since Shakspeare lived, whose magic pen 
 Explored the very souls of men : 
 Like his, for painting character and passion, 
 The muse of Waverly was long in fashion. 
 
 With all such changes in proud Albion s clime, 
 
 Allowing, say a month, for transportation, 
 Their humble parasites have here kept time, 
 
 In dress and morals, taste and conversation. 
 Tis true, our wondrous spirit of invention 
 
 Has added to the stock of information, 
 And there are some improvements I could mention, 
 
 That add new lustre to our reputation. 
 
 Awhile ago, and Greece was all the rage, 
 That is, we felt enraged against the Turks, 
 
 And every daily paper had a page 
 Filled up entirely with their bloody works, 
 14 
 
158 POEMS. 
 
 With battles, massacres, heroic deeds, 
 
 And self-devotedness of patriot men, 
 And cruelties at which the bosom bleeds, 
 
 When memory calls the picture back again. 
 Wives, mothers, maids, compelled to slay themselves, 
 Or yield to these infernal turban d elves. 
 
 One general burst of honest indignation 
 
 Was heard throughout the land ; our public halls 
 Echoed to strains of lofty declamation, 
 
 Or sweeter strains of riddles for our balls, 
 And every other pastime, were intended 
 To aid the cause which Grecian arms defended. 
 To save their sisters from such cruel foes, 
 
 Our patriot ladies danced with ceaseless ardour, 
 As some say masses for the sake of those 
 
 Whose destiny below is somewhat harder. 
 Whole families were doomed to starve for weeks, 
 
 (Who had no banker whom to draw for cash on,) 
 For splendid dresses worn to aid the Greeks ! 
 
 But, recollect, the Greeks were then in fashion. 
 
 Fayette, who help d to make Columbia free, 
 
 The man whom free-born millions now revere, 
 Great La Fayette, the friend of Liberty, 
 
 Has been in fashion more than half a year ; 
 And will be so for centuries, no doubt, 
 
 For millions yet unborn shall shout his name, 
 And seek the dangerous path he singled out 
 
 To reach the summit of immortal fame. 
 
EPISTLES. 15? 
 
 Canals are much in vogue at present, though 
 
 Twas once the fashion to oppose them; 
 From Maine to Georgia now, they re all the go, 
 
 And half her real wealth Columbia owes them. 
 E en Darien, whose adamantine throne 
 
 Still dares two kindred oceans to divide, 
 Is doom d to see its empire overthrown, 
 
 And commerce o er its ruins proudly ride. 
 
 But there s one fashion I must not forget 
 
 On this occasion one that s worth commending, 
 And justly venerated, you ll admit, 
 
 For its antiquity ; tis that of sending 
 To some one we esteem on New- Year s day 
 A short, familiar, tributary lay, 
 
 Such as I now address to you, 
 Deficient both in sentiment and passion, 
 
 But ending with kind wishes, warm and true 
 Accept it, George for I must be in fashion. 
 
 May every bliss that heaven can give be yours, 
 While the brief term of human life endures; 
 Domestic joys, a moderate share of wealth, 
 Contented mind, vivacity, and health; 
 Friends that are faithful, able, and refined, 
 Children obedient consort true and kind; 
 The will and means the child of want to save, 
 And thus secure a fund beyond the grave. 
 If these be yours, there cannot be a fear 
 But you will hail with joy the infant year. 
 
160 TALES AND 
 
 TIT FOR TAT, 
 
 OR, THE COQUETTE PUNISHED. 
 
 Ellen was fair, and kntw it too, 
 As other village beauties do 
 
 Whose mirrors never lie ; 
 Secure of any swain she chose, 
 She smiled on half a dozen heaux, 
 And, reckless of a lover s woes, 
 She cheated these, and taunted those ; 
 <( For how could any one suppose 
 
 " A clown could take her eye ?" 
 
 But whispers through the village ran, 
 That Edgar was the happy man 
 
 The maid design d to bless ; 
 For wheresoever moved the fair, 
 The youth was, like her shadow, there, 
 And rumour boldly match d the pair, 
 
 For village folks will guess. 
 
 Edgar did love, but still delay d 
 To make confession to the maid, 
 
 So bashful was the youth ; 
 But let the flame in secret burn, 
 Certain of meeting a return, 
 When, from his lips, the fair should learn, 
 
 Officially, the truth. 
 
RECITATIONS. 161 
 
 At length, one morn, to taste the air, 
 The youth and maid, in one horse chair, 
 
 A long excursion took. 
 Edgar had nerved his bashful heart 
 The sweet confession to impart, 
 For ah ! suspense had caused a smart 
 
 He could no longer brook. 
 
 He drove, nor slackened once his reins, 
 Till Hempstead s wide extended plains 
 
 Seem d join d to skies above ; 
 Nor house, nor tree, nor shrub was near, 
 The rude and dreary scene to cheer, 
 Nor soul within ten miles to hear 
 And still poor Edgar s silly fear 
 
 Forbade to speak of love. 
 
 At last, one desperate effort broke 
 The bashful spell, and Edgar spoke 
 
 With most persuasive tone ; 
 Recounted past attendance o er, 
 And then, by all that s lovely, swore 
 That he would love for evermore, 
 
 If she d become his own. 
 
 The maid, in silence, heard his prayer, 
 Then, with a most provoking air, 
 
 She tittered in his face ; 
 And said, " Tis time for you to know 
 " A lively girl must have a beau, 
 
 14* 
 
162 TALES AND 
 
 " Just like a reticule for show ; 
 " And at her nod to come and go 
 
 " But he should know his place. 
 " Your penetration must be dull, 
 " To let a hope within your skull 
 
 " Of matrimony spring. 
 " Your wife ! ha, ha ! upon my word, 
 "The thought is laughably absurd 
 " As any thing I ever heard 
 " I never dream d of such a thing." 
 
 The lover sudden dropp d his rein, 
 Now on the centre of the plain 
 
 " The linch-pin s out !" he cried; 
 " Be pleased, one moment, to alight, 
 " Till I can set the matter right, 
 
 " That we may safely ride." 
 
 He said, and handed out the fair 
 Then laughing, crack d his whip in air, 
 And wheeling round his horse and chair, 
 Exclaim d, " Adieu, I leave you there 
 
 " In solitude to roam." 
 " What mean you, sir !" the maiden cried, 
 " Did you invite me out to ride 
 " To leave me here without a guide ? 
 
 "Nay, stop, and take me home." 
 
 " What ! take you home ?" exclaimed the beau, 
 " Indeed, my dear, I d like to know 
 
RECITATIONS. 163 
 
 " How such a hopeless wish could grow, 
 
 " Or in your bosom spring? 
 " Take Ellen home ! upon my word, 
 {t The thought s as laughably absurd 
 " As any thing I ever heard 
 
 "I never dream d of such a thing." 
 
 THE WHISKERS. 
 
 The kings, who rule mankind with haughty sway, 
 The prouder pope, whom even kings obey 
 Love, at whose shrine both popes and monarchs fall, 
 And e en self-interest, that controls them all 
 Possess a petty power, when all combined, 
 Compared with fashion s influence on mankind ; 
 For love itself will oft to fashion bow, 
 The following story will convince you how : 
 
 A petit maitre wooed a fair, 
 Of virtue, wealth, and graces rare ; 
 But vainly had preferr d his claim, 
 The maiden own d no answering flame ; 
 At length, by doubt and anguish torn, 
 Suspense, too painful to be borne, 
 Low at her feet he humbly kneel d, 
 And thus his ardent flame reveal d : 
 
 " Pity my grief, angelic fair, 
 Behold my anguish and despair ; 
 
164 TALES AND 
 
 * 
 
 For you this heart must ever burn 
 O bless me with a kind return ; 
 My love no language can express, 
 Reward it then with happiness ; 
 Nothing on earth but you I prize, 
 All else is trifling in my eyes ; 
 And cheerfully would I resign 
 The wealth of worlds, to call you mine* 
 But, if another gain your hand, 
 Far distant from my native land, 
 Far hence, from you and hope, I ll fly, 
 And in some foreign region die." 
 
 The virgin heard, and thus replied : 
 " If my consent to be your bride 
 Will make you happy, then be blest, 
 But grant me first one small request ; 
 A sacrifice I must demand, 
 And in return will give my hand." 
 
 " A sacrifice ! O speak its name, 
 For you I d forfeit wealth and fame ; 
 Take my whole fortune every cent 
 " Twas something more than wealth I meant." 
 " Must I the realms of Neptune trace? 
 O speak the word where er the place, 
 For you, the idol of my soul, 
 I d e en explore the frozen pole ; 
 Arabia s sandy desert tread, 
 Or trace the Tigris to its head." 
 
RECITATIONS. 165 
 
 " O no, dear sir, I do not ask 
 So long a voyage, so long a task ; 
 You must but ah ! the boon I want, 
 
 I have no hope that you will grant." 
 
 , 
 
 " Shall I, like Bonaparte, aspire 
 To be the world s imperial sire ? 
 Express the wish, and here I vow, 
 To place a crown upon your brow." 
 
 " Sir, these are trifles" she replied 
 " But if you wish me for your bride, 
 You must but still I fear to speak 
 You ll never grant the boon I seek." 
 
 - .-: > - , , 
 
 "O say !" he cried " dear angel say 
 What I must do, and I obey ; 
 No longer rack me with suspense, 
 Speak your commands, and send me hence." 
 
 " Well, then, dear generous youth!" she cries, 
 " If thus my heart you really prize, 
 And wish to link your fate with mine, 
 On one condition I am thine ; 
 Twill then become my pleasing duty, 
 To contemplate a husband s beauty ; 
 And gazing on his manly face, 
 His feelings and his wishes trace ; 
 To banish thence each mark of care, 
 And light a smile of pleasure there. 
 
166 TALES AND 
 
 O let me then, tis all I ask, 
 
 Commence at once the pleasing task ; 
 
 O let me, as becomes my place, 
 
 Cut those huge whiskers from your face." 
 
 She said but O, what strange surprise 
 Was pictured in her lover s eyes ! 
 Like lightning from the ground he sprung, 
 While wild amazement tied his tongue ; 
 A statue, motionless, he gazed, 
 Astonish d, horror-struck, amazed. 
 So look d the gallant Perseus, when 
 Medusa s visage met his ken ; 
 So look d Macbeth, whose guilty eye 
 Discern d an "air drawn dagger" nigh; 
 And so the prince of Denmark stared, 
 When first his father s ghost appeared. 
 
 At length our hero silence broke, 
 And thus in wildest accents spoke : 
 " Cut off my whiskers ! O ye gods ! 
 I d sooner lose my ears, by odds; 
 Madam, I d not be so disgraced, 
 So lost to fashion and to taste, 
 To win an empress to my arms, 
 Though blest with more than mortal charms. 
 My whiskers! Zounds!" He said no more, 
 But quick retreated through the door, 
 And sought a less obdurate fair, 
 To take the beau with all his hair. 
 
RECITATIONS. 167 
 
 THE EXPERT FRISEUR. 
 
 The other day, a certain beau, 
 Before he could a courting go, 
 Must needs be dress d ; so off he flew 
 To the first shop that met his view ; 
 " Come, barber," he exclaimes in haste, 
 " Display for once a little taste, 
 Exert your powers, and don t be stupid. 
 But make me pretty as a Cupid. 
 Consult my visage now with care, 
 And to my looks adapt my hair." 
 The man, a master of his trade, 
 His best abilities display d ; . , 
 
 And Cupid from his chair arose, 
 A finished beauty, we suppose; 
 Approach d the glass, his visage spied, 
 Then turning to the barber, cried 
 " Is this your boasted taste ? for shame ! 
 Such dressing don t deserve the name ; 
 My head, with all these curls and plaster, 
 Looks like the very devil, master." 
 The barber, in a humble tone, 
 Replied, " Dear sir, the fault s your own, 
 You bade me view your face with care, 
 And to your looks adapt your hair." 
 
 O be a man, and let proud reason tread 
 In triumph on each rebel passion s head. 
 
168 TALES AND 
 
 THE HARD-HEARTED LANDLORD. 
 
 In Ormond s garret, near proud Hudson s stream, 
 Resided once a fond contented pair: 
 The youthful Edwin, just in wedlock join d 
 To the dear object of his boyish love, 
 The fair Amelia. Though their humble hopes 
 Were bounded by necessity s demand, 
 They were but barely realized ; and want 
 Would sometimes knock, but never dared intrude. 
 Yet still industry, by affection urged, 
 With frugal management, and sprightly health, 
 Secured them comfort and domestic peace ; 
 Eadi homely meal receiving higher zest, 
 From being earn d before it was enjoy d. 
 
 One year roll d round, and in their favour left 
 A trifling balance, after all demands 
 Were satisfied with scrupulous exactness. 
 Sacred treasure ! for one fond event 
 Now hastening on, the consecrated boon 
 Was joyfully reserved; while smiling hope 
 Lent double vigour to the daily task 
 Which fed the pair, and saved the little fund. 
 
 But, ah ! relentless fate had woes in store 
 Unmerited by virtue such as theirs. 
 The tender moment, destined to complete 
 Their little plan of happiness, arrived i 
 But only came to blast their fondest hopes. 
 
RECITATIONS. 169 
 
 The poor Amelia, after nameless pangs, 
 That push d her to the precipice of fate, 
 And left her trembling on its dizzy verge, 
 Usher d to light, but not to life, a babe. 
 
 Edwin, distracted, o er the sufferer hung, 
 As though his loved Amelia s wasting life 
 Was with the web of his existence wove. 
 Night after night, and day succeeding day, 
 His eyes estranged from sleep, his frame from rest, 
 He watch d her fading form, and by her couch, 
 Entranced in speechless agony, remained. 
 
 Physicians, nurses, nostrums, fuel, food, 
 And all the nameless calls of sickness, soon 
 Exhausted Edwin s little frugal store, 
 And nought but want, disease, and deep despair, 
 Remain d the inmates of his drear abode. 
 The few utensils of domestic use 
 Their humble means afforded, one by one, 
 Were sacrificed to stern relentless want ; 
 Till the poor couch on which Amelia lay 
 (The scene of all his joys and all his woes) 
 Alone remain d of Edwin s worldly wealth. 
 
 Twas at this crisis, while the husband stood, 
 Absorb d in grief, beside the senseless fair, 
 His landlord entered. Ormond, who could count 
 The annual tribute of an hundred rents ; 
 Ormond, whose coffers groan d with their contents, 
 15 
 
170 TALES AND 
 
 Came to demand the recent quarter s due ! 
 
 The heart-broke mourner raised his humid eyes 
 
 And threw them round the desolated room. 
 
 Then, pointing to the melancholy bed, 
 
 Bade savage Ormond view his little all. 
 
 " Ha! swindling wretch!" the human monster cried, 
 
 " Your goods embezzled, and myself unpaid ! 
 
 Thus every year some cursed loss like this 
 
 Have I to meet: but you shall not escape." 
 
 " Forbear!" cries Edwin, " and respect my grief! 
 
 This scene is sacred to despair and silence. 
 
 Let me but catch Amelia s parting breath, 
 
 Close her dear eyes, and give a farewell kiss, 
 
 Then, wretch ! dispose of Edwin as you please." 
 
 " What little your dishonesty has left," 
 
 Ormond replies, "this moment shall secure; 
 
 Your bed is mine !" A marshal, at his beck, 
 
 Entered the room, and both approach d the couch. 
 
 Edwin, whose spirit sorrow had subdued, 
 
 Entreated, prayed, and on his knees implored 
 
 A little respite but, alas ! in vain ! 
 
 With savage coolness, they commenced the task 
 
 Amelia, writhing in the pangs of death, 
 
 They placed, ungently, on the cheerless floor, 
 
 Secured their prey, and saw the sufferer die ! 
 
 POETRY. 
 
 Music s fair sister for behold in each, 
 
 Are nameless graces which no methods teach, 
 
 And which a master s hand alone can reach. 
 
RECITATIONS. 171 
 
 DOCTOR 
 
 Air Nothing at all. 
 
 A last and a lapstone, were once my delight, 
 And I sung while I hammered, from morning till night ; 
 But all the day s earnings, at eve, I would spend, 
 Till the thread of my credit was brought to an end. 
 
 Spoken. 
 
 For 1 was up to a thing or two, and loved fun ; passed the night 
 in reciting Shakspeare at the ale-house, and kept myself awake 
 the next day, by beating time with the hammer, while I sung 
 
 Make a death, cut a stick, high time I tramp d, 
 Rise again, tick again, credit new vamp d. 
 
 2 
 
 I next taught the gamut, the sharps, and the flats, 
 To a nasal-twang d bass, and a treble of cats ; 
 Till my private duet with a miss, got abroad, 
 Which chang d the key note, and produced a discord. 
 
 Spoken. 
 
 A little love affair, that ran counter to my wishes, and induced 
 some slanderous tongues to pronounce the whole tenor of" my 
 conduct to be thorough bass. So, without venturing a da capo, I 
 pocketed the slur, leapt the bar with a quick movement, and left 
 the flats to harmonize as they could ; for all the gossips had de 
 creed that their daughters should have nothing more to do with my 
 
 Fa, sol, la; fa, sol, la; fa, sol, la, me ; 
 
 Hop a twig, such a rig ought not to be. 
 
 3 
 
 A travelling merchant I quickly became, 
 With a new stock in trade, a new dress, and new name; 
 And I bartered my goods with such exquisite grace, 
 That I left a fair mourner in ever place. 
 
 Spoken. 
 
 " O Tabitha, what will become of me ! The dear sweet Mr. 
 Rover, (for that was my travelling name,) my dear sweet Mr. Ro- 
 
172 TALES AND 
 
 ver, the pedler, is gone, and perhaps 1 shall never see him again. 
 
 dear !" " Your dear sweet Mr. Rover, indeed ! I d have you 
 to know, cousin Keziah, that he is my dear sweet Mr. Rover, and 
 he has left me something to remember him by." " O the base, 
 wicked deceiver ! He has left me something too." Thus would 
 they sympathize with each other, or tear caps for poor Rover, 
 while I was unconsciously preparing a similar mine to spring in 
 the next village \ or jogging quietly along the road, inviting every 
 one to buy my 
 
 Dutch ovens, cullenders, dippers and pans, 
 Broaches and buckles, with ear-rings and fans. 
 
 4 
 
 A schoolmaster, next, with a visage severe, 
 Board, lodging and washing, and twelve pounds a year, 
 For teaching the rustics to spell, and to read 
 The New-England Primer, the Psalter and Creed. 
 
 Spoke*. 
 
 You must know, that 1 undertook to hammer a little learning 
 through the calfskin d pates of seventy or eighty square-toed, 
 leather- headed numskulls. But after vainly trying the experi 
 ment at both ends of the patients, I lost my own patience, and my 
 school into the bargain, and was glad to make a precipitate retreal 
 with a whole skin 5 and this so forcibly reminded me of my mu 
 sical scrape, that 1 struck up the old chorus of 
 
 Fa, sol, la ; fa, sol, la ; fa, sol, la, me ; 
 Hop a twig, such a rig ought not to be. 
 5 
 
 1 then became preacher without any call, 
 
 When a sweet village lass came to hear brother Paul ; 
 And told her experience o er with such grace, 
 That I gave the dear creature an ardent embrace. 
 
 Spoken. 
 
 There was the devil to pay, and poor I once more in the voc 
 ative. But, I made my escape to the back-woods, singing my old 
 Crispin d itty 
 
 Make a death, cut a stick, high time I tramp d, 
 Rise again, tick again, credit new vamp d. 
 
RECITATIONS. 179 
 
 And now a physician, with cock d hat and wig, 
 I can feel ladies pujses, look wise, and talk big; 
 With a fine ruffled shirt, and good coat to my back, 
 I pluck the poor geese, while the ducks exclaim quack ! 
 
 Spoken. 
 
 " O Doctor, I am so glad you are come. I have such a consarned 
 beating of the heart, that 1 can hardly draw my breath. Oh !" 
 " Let me see your tongue, Miss." " My tongue ! Law souls, 
 Doctor, what in the world has the tongue lo do with the heart ?" 
 " In general, Miss, not much ; but your case is an exception." 
 " An exception ! O goody gracious ! now, you don t say so ; is an 
 exception a dangerous disorder, Doctor?" "Not at all danger 
 ous, Miss. An application of stramonium externally, and copi 
 ous draughts of catnip tea internally, will soon restore you." 
 The lady s heart becomes composed, I pocket my fee, and make 
 my exit, singing 
 
 Feel the pulse, smell the cane, look at the tongue* 
 Touch the gold, praise the old, flatter the young. 
 
 RAISING- THE WIND. 
 
 Spoken by a Player^ on the night of his Benefit 
 
 It s ever been the study of mankind, 
 In every station, how to raise the wind ; 
 And who attempts it with the least address, 
 Is oft rewarded with the most success ; 
 As many a novice, by a lucky throw, 
 Has foil d the science of a veteran foe. 
 
 Raising the wind, however, I ll engage, 
 Is not confined to climate, sex, or age ; 
 But is, in fact, the universal trade, 
 Of infant, parent, widow, wife, and maid. 
 15* 
 
174 TALES AND 
 
 Young master Fretful, spoil d by fond mamma, 
 Espies a treasure in the sweetmeat jar ; 
 And, if refused to taste the luscious store, 
 Tunes up his pipes to a melodious roar. 
 
 " Give him a rod!" the angry father cries; 
 "Nay, nay! my dear!" the tender spouse replies, 
 " You ll break poor Jacky s heart, or spoil his eyes ; 
 Tis hard to cross so innocent a wish 
 Here, Jacky, take some, on this china dish ; 
 Here, deary, wipe your eyes papa s unkind" 
 Jack smiles again for he has raised the wind. 
 
 Tom Rustic throws the hoe indignant down, 
 Assumes his Sunday suit, and comes to town, 
 Obtains employment in a dry-goods store, 
 And soon forgets whate er he knew before : 
 Commences dandy in his dress and air, 
 And learns to* smoke and gamble, drink and swear; 
 Transform d in manners, dialect, and feature, 
 Till his own parents scarcely know the creature. 
 
 " I say Ned demme where was you last night ? 
 We d fun enough at Cato s blame me tight! 
 I bilk d the driver, too ha, ha ! keep dark, 
 Poor yellow Billy, down there by the Park : 
 You know that Hudson note well, don t you think, 
 The fellow took it gave the change in chink ; 
 The rascal certainly was drunk or blind, 
 But, ha! ha! ha! egad, I raised the wind." 
 
RECITATIONS. 175 
 
 Sir Richard Rake, once lord of boundless wealth. 
 A bankrupt now, in fortune, fame, and health, 
 Becomes enamour d of the widow Dash, 
 Possess d of many thousand charms in cash ; 
 His passion knows no bounds he kneels and sighs, 
 While his whole soul is beaming from his eyes. 
 
 "Divine, angelic creature! Here I vow, 
 This bosom never glow d with love till now; 
 O, then, be kind, and grant my ardent prayer, 
 Nor doom a faithful lover to despair ! 
 Your matchless charms" 
 
 " O fie ! Sir Richard, hushl 
 Such high-flown praises really make me blush ; 
 Fled are the trifling charms which once were mine, 
 Though, to be sure, I m only thirty nine. 1 
 
 " Nay, hear me, dearest madam though I prize, 
 Above all earthly good, those beauteous eyes ! 
 It is your mental charms that touch my heart, 
 That cultivated mind, that heavenly part, 
 So high above the reach of flattery s art." 
 
 " And do you really think so?" " Shall I swear?" 
 " O no, I would not drive you to despair 
 There there s my hand I cannot be unkind." 
 Tis thus our fortune-hunters raise the wind. 
 
 But time would fail me, and your patience too, 
 Should I this boundless subject thus pursue, 
 
176 TALES AND 
 
 And show the various arts by which mankind, 
 Of every grade, contrive to raise the wind. 
 The quack effects it, when and where he pleases, 
 By advertising cures for all diseases ; 
 The politician gives his friends a lift, 
 Then takes the fattest office in their gift; 
 The Wall-street broker shaves you in a note, 
 The humble showman, with a learned goat. 
 A more adventurous soul will raise a breeze 
 By seal-clad natives brought from over seas ; 
 While lottery venders, thinking fortune blind, 
 Assume her functions, and so raise the wind. 
 
 Not so your humble servant, whose sole wish 
 Was to prepare an intellectual dish 
 To treat his friends and if he cannot raise 
 A gale of approbation in his praise, 
 Yet still he hopes his well-intended toils 
 Will meet the gentler sunshine of your smiles. 
 
 THE FIRST OF MATT. 
 
 Or, the City of New-York in an uproar. 
 
 The curtain rises, and the play begins 
 Here at the corner, screened by oaken post, 
 The muse shall take her stand, and view the scene. 
 At every door, behold the ready cart 
 Receive its cumbrous load ; the horse throws round 
 A glance of meek compassion, which to me 
 
RECITATIONS. 1T7 
 
 Speaks in a language, plain as brutes can speak, 
 " What a poor fool is man !" His driver swears, 
 Wives scold, dogs bark, cats mew, and children cry, 
 Pots break, chairs crack, pans ring, and jarring notes, 
 Of harshest discord, rise on every side. 
 
 There goes a matron with her looking-glass, 
 A legacy from mother to her child 
 For several generations, and she ll trust 
 None to remove it but her careful self. 
 But better had she stowed it on the car 
 Where all her baggage rides ; for fate has doom d, 
 (By sudden contact with a porter s load) 
 To dash the sacred treasure from her hand 
 On the unchristian pavements, where she views 
 Her scattered hopes in rude disorder spread, 
 Reflecting houses, passengers, and skies. 
 Here a full barrow, piled with feather-beds, 
 Pushed by a sturdy porter, runs you down, 
 Ere you can shun the danger ; yonder goes 
 The sweating bearer of a precious load, 
 Baskets of china-ware, and sweetmeat jars, 
 And the cold relics of some late repast. 
 And here a lumbering cart moves slowly on, 
 Piled high with bureaus, bedsteads, tables, desks, 
 Chairs, cradle, rubbish, wash-tubs, kettles, pots, 
 Old empty barrels, benches, trammels, pans, 
 The fire utensils, carpet-rags, old books, 
 And musty pamphlets, oil jugs, bottles, frames, 
 Mats, brooms, Dutch-ovens, gridirons, griddles, jacks, 
 Trunks, piggins, toasters, pickle-pots, and all. 
 
178 TALES AND 
 
 ADDRESS 
 
 For the Opening of the new Park Theatre Spoken by 
 Jtfrs. Barnes, in character of J\Ielpomene. 
 
 What glorious vision bursts upon my view ! 
 Does fancy mock me ? No, tis true ! tis true ! 
 No false illusive dream of past delight, 
 But blest realities, salute my sight : 
 The ruthless fiend of ruin is displaced, 
 By beauty, fashion, elegance, and taste. 
 Thrill d with such rapture as when first I press d 
 The infant Shakspeare to this throbbing breast, 
 I hail the scene, my temple and my home, 
 While rays of beauty light the vaulted dome. 
 Despair, avaunt ! the storm of grief is past, 
 And joy s bright sunshine gilds the scene at last! 
 
 Here, where the tragic muse has mourn d so long 
 The sleep of passion, and the death of song , 
 Where o er the urn of blighted hopes she hung, 
 With vacant, beamless eye, and silent tongue ; 
 While shapeless heaps of ruins smoked around, 
 And desolation mark d the blacken d ground 
 Here, from its ashes, see her temple burst, 
 With grace and splendour that surpass the first. 
 So from its parent s dust the phoenix springs, 
 With Eden s richest plumage in his wings ; 
 Thus dazzling soars, unrivall d, and alone, 
 His age a century, and a world his own. 
 
, : 
 
 RECITATIONS. 170 
 
 Ye generous freemen, who in danger stand 
 The shield and bulwark of our happy land ; 
 Who, mid the sweeter luxuries of peace, 
 Behold your greatness with your arts increase; 
 Whose liberal minds throw lustre on the age, 
 O still protect and patronise the stage ; 
 That bright auxiliar in refinement s cause, 
 Which raised proud Greece to what at length she was, 
 Invited forth, and scattered, unconfined, 
 The boundless treasures of a Shakspeare a mind ; 
 And taught the vulgar barbarous sons of strife 
 The gentler courtesies that sweeten life. 
 
 Ye freeborn fair, who grace Columbia s clime, 
 Whose bosoms glow with sentiments sublime ; 
 Whose smiles inspire the actions they reward, 
 Whose tears embalm the virtues they applaud ; 
 Still let those smiles and tears alternate prove 
 That wit can charm, that sympathy can move. 
 And while your hearts celestial truth revere, 
 Still condescend to trace her picture here ; 
 Still let your presence consecrate the art 
 That holds a mirror to the human heart ; 
 That shows the black and hideous form of vice, 
 And raises virtue s worth beyond a price ; 
 That culls the fruits of fancy s wide domains, 
 That calls from poesy her sweetest strains; 
 That teaches young affection what alone 
 Can make a virtuous, manly heart, her own ; 
 
 J 
 
180 RECITATIONS. 
 
 \nd shows to art how vain are all its wiles, 
 That he who wins must first deserve your smiles. 
 
 Columbians, all ! ye patriots, and ye fair, 
 Still let the drama claim your generous care ; 
 Cherish d by you, it will the champion prove 
 Of freedom, virtue, and the arts you love ; 
 So shall this city, by refinement blest, 
 Become the pride and mistress of the west; 
 So shall your country rise to greater fame, 
 And endless glory gild Columbia s name. 
 
 MOKNIXTG. 
 
 An Extract from Beasts at Law. 
 
 The morn, in purple glories dight, 
 Now burst upon the rear of Night, 
 Who, gathering up his lurid vest, 
 Is swift retreating towards the west. 
 All nature wakes from soft repose, 
 The flowers their dewy breasts unclose, 
 Where insect tribes their votaries pay, 
 And sip their nectared sweets away. 
 The birds commence their matin song, 
 And streams of music float along : 
 The herds their grassy couch forsake, 
 To crop the mead, or taste the lake, 
 And all commence the infant day, 
 As toil or pleasure points the way. 
 
MELODIES. 
 
 RELIGIOUS, MORAL, AND ELEGIAC. 
 
 SIN 170 MORE. 
 
 A song of gratitude begin, 
 To praise the God who saves from sin ; 
 Who marks the penitential tear, 
 And deigns the contrite sigh to hear ; 
 Who whispers hope, when we our sins deplore 
 " Thy God condemns thee not offend no more." 
 
 But ah ! such love can ne er be sung 
 Such boundless grace ! by mortal tongue ; 
 For e en celestial minstrels deem 
 Their highest skill below the theme ; 
 Yet mortals can, with gratitude, adore 
 The God who pardons all that sin no more. 
 
 Dear Lord ! is this condition all 
 To fight the foes that wrought our fall ? 
 Thus arm d with hope, I ll quell a host, 
 Nor let so cheap a heaven be lost ; 
 O then repeat the sweet assurance o er, 
 " Thy God will not condemn thee sin no more." 
 16 
 
182 MELODIES. 
 
 PHILOSOPHY AND RELIGION. 
 
 There is a Philosophy, hollow, unsound, 
 To matter confining its false speculations ; 
 
 Whose flight is confined within Nature s dull round, 
 Its pinions the web of sophistic persuasions. 
 
 And there s a Philosophy truly divine, 
 That traces effects up to spiritual causes, 
 
 Determines the link of the chain where they join, 
 And soars to an infinite height ere it pauses. 
 
 That meanly debases the image of God, 
 To rank with the brutes in the scale of creation. 
 
 This raises the tenant of light from the sod, 
 And bears him to heaven, his primitive station. 
 
 Hail, science of Angels ! Theosophy, hail ! 
 
 That shows us the regions of bliss by reflection ; 
 Removes from creation s broad mirror the vail, 
 
 Where spirit and matter appear in connexion. 
 
 It breaks on the soul in an ocean of light, 
 
 She starts from her lethargy, stretches her pinions. 
 
 Beholds a new world bursting forth on her sight, 
 And, soaring in ecstacy, claims her dominions. 
 
 A sense of original, dignified worth, 
 
 Her bosom expands with sublime exultation; 
 
 She tastes immortality even on earth, 
 In light that eclipses the sun s emanation. 
 
RELIGIOUS. 183 
 
 Be sages and pedants to nature confined, 
 
 As the bat darkly flutters in Luna s pale presence; 
 
 I ll soar, like the eagle, through regions of mind,. 
 In the blaze of that Sun which is truth in its essence. 
 
 AND BID I SAY. 
 
 And did I say, my lyre should sleep, 
 
 Because no laurels deck d it ; 
 That I no more its chords would swee^ 
 Because its lay is valued cheap, 
 
 And all the world neglect it ? 
 I did but felt not then the flame 
 
 Which now within me blazes, 
 Nor reck d of His eternal claim, 
 Who gave the lyre to sing His name, 
 
 And utter forth His praises. 
 
 But now that lyre shall sleep no more* 
 
 Nor wake to earthly measures ; 
 But every strain it warbles o er, 
 Shall that Eternal Source adore, 
 
 Whence flow immortal pleasures. 
 No more I prostitute its lay, 
 
 To subjects evanescent; 
 But sing those scenes of endless day, 
 Where angel harps in rapture play, 
 
 And praises flow incessant. 
 
14 MELODIES. 
 
 WEEPING MARY. 
 
 Imitated from the Latin, in the Catholic Hymn-book. 
 
 Weeping Mary, bathed in sorrow, 
 Linger d near the scene of horror, 
 
 Where the dying Saviour hung; 
 From whose bursting heart arising, 
 Groans of anguish agonizing, 
 
 Floated o er His fevered tongue ! 
 
 O what sorrow, deep, unbounded, 
 That maternal bosom wounded, 
 
 Once the Saviour s couch of rest ! 
 How she wept to see Him languish, 
 How she trembled for the anguish 
 
 Labouring in His guiltless breast ! 
 
 Who could witness, without weeping, 
 Gushing streams of sorrow sweeping 
 
 Dov. T n the mother s pallid cheek? 
 Who r with bosom unrelenting, 
 Could behold her thus lamenting, 
 
 Looking what no tongue could speak ? 
 
 While such pangs as fiends invented, 
 Still her suffering Son tormented, 
 
 Scorn and bruises, stripes and death ; 
 She beheld Him thus expiring, 
 Human friends in fear retiring, , 
 
 Whilst in groans He spent His breath ! 
 
RELIGIOUS. 186 
 
 Matchless mercy ! love amazing ! 
 Far above our feeble praising, 
 
 Far beyond our humble lays ; 
 May its influence never vary, 
 Till my heart, like that of Mary, 
 
 Glow with a seraphic blaze. 
 
 Gracious Saviour, now in glory ! 
 Be this sad affecting story 
 
 Deeply on thy soul imprest ! 
 May the scene of such affliction, 
 Bring the hardest heart conviction, 
 
 Melt the most obdurate breast ! 
 
 EPITAPHS. 
 
 O who, that beheld her delectable smile, 
 When lent to the hopes of her parents awhile, 
 And read in the glance of her infantile eye 
 A soul of affection that never can die ; 
 Attended the silvery tones of her tongue, 
 And fancied a seraph had spoken or sung ; 
 Survey d her dear form, as the model of beauty, 
 When moving in acts of affection and duty 
 But ready assent to this precept has given : 
 Of such is the kingdom of Jesus in Heaven. 
 
 Sacred to Virtue, let this marble stand. 
 And time forbear the tablet to destroy, 
 
 Whose lay disarms the king of terrors hand 
 " Death is the gate to everlasting joy " 
 
 16* 
 
186 MELODIES. 
 
 INCARNATION. 
 AirMew Sabbath. 
 
 O for a Seraph s golden lyre, 
 
 With chords of light, and tones of fire, 
 
 To sing that wondrous love 
 Which brought a Deity below, 
 To save an erring race from wo, 
 
 And give them joys above. 
 
 O may that love inspire my soul, 
 Till such ecstatic numbers roll, 
 
 As rre by angels given; 
 To tell Redemption s wondrous plan, 
 How Heaven descended down to man, 
 
 That man might rise to Heaven. 
 
 His creatures fell no pitying eye, 
 No powerful arm to save, was nigh, 
 
 Or aid our feeble powers ; 
 He saw He came He fought alone, 
 And conquered evils not his own, 
 
 That we might conquer ours. 
 
 Temptation s thorny path He trod, 
 In form, a man in soul, a God, 
 
 And trod the path alone ; 
 In vain the direst fiends assail d, 
 His mighty arm of power prevail d, 
 
 And hell was overthrown. 
 
RELIGIOUS. 187 
 
 He pass d the dismal vale of death 
 The human form resign d its breath, 
 
 And like a mortal died ; 
 But death was crush d beneath His feet, 
 He rose a God and Man complete, 
 
 His human glorified. 
 
 Amazing mercy ! love immense ! 
 Surpassing every human sense, 
 
 Since time and sense began ! 
 That man might shun the realms of pain. 
 And know and love his God again, 
 
 His God became a man ! 
 
 EPITAPH. 
 
 She is not here tis but her veil of clay 
 That moulders into dust beneath this stone ; 
 
 Mary herself, in realms of endless day, 
 Has put a robe of fadeless glory on. 
 
 This monumental urn is not design d 
 To tell of beauties withering in the tomb ; 
 
 Her brightest charms were centred in a mind 
 Which still survives, and will forever bloom. 
 
 Yet may this marble teach the solemn truth, 
 That virtue only can true bliss impart ; 
 
 While neither friendship, beauty, health, nor youth, 
 Can shield the breast from death s insatiate dart. 
 
188 MELODIES. 
 
 NEW JERUSALEM. 
 
 Air Hotham. 
 
 Rich in mercy, Jesus reigns, 
 
 Heaven owns no other king ; 
 Crown Him, mortals, in your strains, 
 
 While His matchless grace you sing. 
 Angels wake their loftier lays, 
 
 Kindled from celestial fires, 
 Humbler spirits bid His praise 
 
 Sweetly flow from silver lyres. 
 
 Mortals ! catch the pleasing strain, 
 
 Gratitude demands the song 
 Jesus builds His church again, 
 
 Where your Babel stood so long. 
 Truth divine her wall supports, 
 
 Love has paved her streets with gold 
 See her jasper towers and courts, 
 
 Gates of pearl that never fold. 
 
 Pilgrims! enter and rejoice 
 
 Here your Saviour holds his throne ; 
 Tis the City of His choice, 
 
 Tis the Church He calls His own. 
 Precious gems, on every side, 
 
 Lend new lustre to her charms 
 Tis the Lamb s celestial Bride, 
 
 Smiling hi her husband s arms. 
 
RELIGIOUS. 189 
 
 REGENERATION. 
 
 Blessed is the man who walketh not in the counsel of the ungodly, 4c. Pialai i. 1, 2, 3. 
 
 How happy the man who discards from his breast 
 The lusts and the passions which daily molest ; 
 Who heeds not their counsel or softest persuasion. 
 But treats them as foes upon every occasion. 
 
 Tho the sunshine of peace such a bosom illume, 
 Or nights of temptation involve it in gloom ; 
 Whatever his state be, with calm resignation, 
 He looks to the Word of his God for salvation. 
 
 And the Word of his God, like a river of truth, 
 Gives each young-budding virtue the vigour of youth ; 
 While practical love is still tempered by reason, 
 As the green leaflet decks the ripe fruit in its season. 
 
 Thus regeneration proceeds from the Word, 
 If we combat our evils, and trust in the Lord ; 
 Then prosper, dear Saviour, each humble endeavour > 
 And thine be the glory, for ever and ever ! 
 
 BE WISE! 
 
 The graver moralist resumes his theme, 
 To wake the soul from error s fatal dream ; 
 To show the path which leads to solid bliss, 
 The happy goal which slaves of passion miss. 
 
190 MELODIC. 
 
 REDEMPTION. 
 
 Redemption claims our highest lays, 
 To Jesus Christ belongs the praise ; 
 The lofty theme should fire the soul, 
 And music s richest numbers roll. 
 Our blest Redeemer is the God we own, 
 Then swell the chorus to His name alone. 
 
 Unseen, unknown, and unreveal d, 
 No creature s eye our God beheld, 
 Till He the wondrous work begun, 
 And showed the Father in the Son ; 
 Jehovah now as Jesus Christ is known, 
 Then swell the chorus to his name alone 
 
 From heaven His pitying eye surveyed 
 The ruin sin on earth had made ; 
 He saw His creatures run the road 
 Which led from happiness and God ; 
 He saw, and saved the work was all his own, 
 Then swell the chorus to His name alone. 
 
 Swift from supernal realms of day, 
 Seraphic minstrels wing d their way, 
 To hail the great Redeemer s birth, 
 And publish peace to men on earth : 
 " To God give glory" sung the joyous throng, 
 Let men and angels still repeat the song. 
 
 Alas ! no human accents can 
 Express the love of God to man ; 
 
RELIGIOUS. 191 
 
 Who, to redeem a sinful worm, 
 Assumed the human mind and form ; 
 
 Was born a man, that man might be re-born ! 
 
 Then let us praise Him on His natal morn. 
 
 BRIGHT IS THE WORD. 
 
 Arranged and published by E. Riley. 
 
 Bright is the Word, tis light divine, 
 A Sun that will forever shine, 
 To light us o er the pathless sand, 
 From Egypt to the promised land. 
 Then swell the anthem to its author s praise, 
 Who through the world extends its cheering rays. 
 
 Clear is the word, whose living stream, 
 
 Reflecting love s celestial beam, 
 
 Thro every sterile desert rolls, 
 
 Imparting life to dying souls ; 
 The tree of life adorns its verdant brink, 
 It flows to all and all may freely drink. 
 
 Then let the grateful anthem rise 
 To God, the only good and wise, 
 Who bids the heathen hear his voice, 
 And in his boundless love rejoice. 
 The light shall spread, the bounteous river flow, 
 Till all the earth a Saviour s love shall know. 
 
tS MELODIES. 
 
 THE NATIVITY. 
 
 Air Hail to the Chief. 
 
 Strike the loud anthem, to hail the blest morning, 
 
 Jesus the Saviour an infant appears ; 
 Lo! in the East, a new day-spring is dawning ! 
 Hark ! the glad tidings which sound in our ears ! 
 On this auspicious morn, 
 To us a child is born, 
 Glory to God in the highest be given ; 
 Hail our Redeemer s birth 
 Good will and peace on earth 
 Man shall again have conjunction with Heaven. 
 
 Hark ! twas the voice of a seraph that sounded 
 
 Shepherds of Judea start with surprise, 
 While, with a radiance of glory surrounded, 
 Troops of bright angels descend from the skies. 
 Now loud the choral strain 
 Swells round the happy plain, 
 Glory to God in the highest be given; 
 Hail our Redeemer s birth 
 Good will and peace on earth 
 Man shall again have conjunction with Heaven. 
 
RELIGIOUS. 193 
 
 Praise Him with grateful lays, 
 
 Pour forth the soul in praise ; 
 The government rests on His shoulders alone : 
 
 In Him the Godhead dwells 
 
 Which has subdued the hells; 
 And God the Creator as Jesus is known. 
 
 SEEK YE THE LOUD. 
 
 Ye sons of men, come, seek the Lord, 
 While yet He may be found ; 
 
 He ll meet you in His holy Word, 
 Where love and truth abound. 
 
 Call on Him while He yet is near 
 
 To hear a sinner s call; 
 A humble penitential tear 
 
 Will never vainly fall. 
 
 Let man forsake the sinner s road, 
 Discard each vicious thought, 
 
 Return to Jesus, as his God, 
 And be by Jesus taught ; 
 
 Then will the Lord his mercy show, 
 
 His pardon freely give ; 
 Then man his only good will know, 
 
 And in that knowledge live. 
 
194 MELODIES. 
 
 GOD IN HIS TEMPLE. 
 Music by E. C. Riley. 
 
 God is in His holy temple, 
 
 Sons of earth, be silent now ; 
 Hither let the saints assemble, 
 
 And before His footstool bow. 
 Lo, He s present with us ever, 
 
 When assembled in His name ; 
 Aiding every good endeavour, 
 
 Guiding every humble aim. 
 
 God is in His holy temple, 
 
 Tis each renovated mind ; 
 Where the purer thoughts assemble, 
 
 While the base are cast behind. 
 Every earthly, low affection, 
 
 Long opposed, is silent now ; 
 Every passion, in subjection, 
 
 Must at Wisdom s altar bow. 
 
 God is in His holy temple, 
 
 Tis the church He calls His own, 
 Tis the city where assemble 
 
 All who worship Him alone. 
 New-Jerusalem the holy 
 
 Is the city of our God, 
 There our Saviour governs solely, 
 
 With the balance and the rod. 
 
RELIGIOUS. 195 
 
 God is in His holy temple, 
 
 Tis the hody of our Lord ; 
 Infidels may doubt and tremble, 
 
 We have learn d it from His Word; 
 From the Word which wrought creation, 
 
 From that Word which flesh became, 
 Which alone can give salvation 
 
 God and Jesus are the same. 
 
 EPITAPH ON A. CHILD. 
 
 In life s parterre, what numerous germs disclose 
 
 The loveliest tints, the sweetest blushing dyes ! 
 The enraptured florist views the opening rose, 
 Screens it from every ruder wind that blows, 
 
 And richer future charms in embryo espies. 
 But, ah ! the spoiler stalks abroad, whose breath 
 Is pestilence, whose chilling touch is death ! 
 
 With merciless hand he crops the flower, 
 And all its promised beauty flies, 
 
 It falls beneath his baneful power, 
 
 Its sweets are scattered in an hour ; 
 
 It shrinks, it withers, droops, and dies. 
 Yet, mourn not, ye, whose fostering love and care 
 
 To culture a beloved plant has fail d ; 
 Tis but transplanted to a garden, where 
 Eternal summer smiles ; twill flourish these 
 
 In living hues, by spoilers unassail d. 
 
196 MELODIES. 
 
 THE WIDOW. 
 
 We parted : Oh ! it was a painful hour ! 
 
 Not that I thought him lost to me for ever, 
 I knew that mighty love s resistless power 
 
 Would re-unite us, ne er again to sever ; 
 For we are wedded not as thoughtless mortals, 
 
 Incited only by terrestrial views, 
 Enter that sacred fane s mysterious portals. 
 
 Our souls are wedded ; that assurance strews 
 
 My widowed path with flowers of fadeless hues. 
 
 Yet is the briefest parting hard ; for love, 
 
 Deprived of wisdom, is a rayless sun ; 
 A summer midnight, when no star above 
 
 Throws down one cheering ray ; tis GOOD, alone, 
 Without her partner TRUTH ; or it resembles 
 
 Warm melting CHARITY, intent to bless, 
 When, without FAITH to guide her steps, she trembles 
 
 O er the dark scene of human wretchedness, 
 
 Wondering if Heaven permit or wills distress. 
 
 Twas hard to part ; and while his spirit hovered 
 
 On the cold lips my kisses could not warm, 
 I prayed and murmured ; but, alas ! when covered 
 
 By the dark pall, they bore that manly form 
 To its cold grave, I lost the pang of sorrow, 
 
 For reason fled, and I d a dreamless sleep; 
 But woke, in anguish, on the coming morrow, 
 
 No more to murmur, pray, or even weep, 
 
 For grief is ever silent when it s deep. 
 
RELIGIOUS. 19T 
 
 Humbled to earth, my self-upbraiding soul, 
 
 With mental tongue, exclaim d, Thy will be done ! 
 When, through my bosom, such a feeling stole 
 As mocks the power of language ; it was one 
 Of those delicious thrills of nameless rapture 
 We feel, when conscience, Heav n, and friends approve; 
 When earthly joys have lost their power to capture ; 
 For REUBEN S spirit whispered, " Peace, sweet dove, 
 We re joined for ever, in Conjugial 
 
 TO THE REV. J. HARGROVE, 
 
 On hearing him preach on the Pleasures of Religion. 
 
 When o er the sacred desk, with modest grace 
 
 And lowly meekness, bends thy reverend form, 
 While the great theme that animates thy face, 
 
 Bids every bosom glow with transport warm- 
 How could I listen to the heavenly theme, 
 
 Forget the pleasures that entice me here, 
 Think human life a transitory dream, 
 
 And wish, with thee, to gain a higher sphere ! 
 
 Go on, thou champion in the cause of truth, 
 Armed by thy Saviour, still the foe engage ; 
 
 Still charm from vice the steps of ardent youth, 
 And strew with rosy hopes the path of age. 
 
 * From the Latin term r.tnjuffiaJ.a, a higher dejrrec of union than is undei 
 tood by the term conjugal, which is from the Latin word conjugate. 
 
198 MELODIES. 
 
 THE WORLD OF MIND. 
 
 First day of Creation. 
 
 There is a world the world of mind, 
 By neither time nor space confined ; 
 And when we cease in flesh to dwell, 
 That world will be our heaven or hell. 
 
 By fallen nature, tis, alas ! 
 A rude, chaotic, shapeless mass ; 
 Devoid of goodness, truth, or light, 
 And veil d in blackest shades of night 
 
 But He who gave creation birth, 
 Can re-create this mental earth ; 
 For this His spirit, like a dove, 
 Broods o er our secret thoughts in love 
 
 If we consent to be renewed, 
 
 And wish our evil lust subdued; 
 
 " Let there be light," He says, and straight 
 
 We see our low disordered state. 
 
 Then do we seek to know the Lord, 
 Receive instruction from His word ; 
 While He divides the day from night, 
 And we proceed from shade to light. 
 
 Lord, let thy spirit, like a dove, 
 Brood over all our souls in love ; 
 Then give us light our state to see, 
 And we will give the praise to thee. 
 
RELIGIOUS. 199 
 
 THE WORLD OF MIND. 
 
 Second day of Creation. 
 
 Our God can re-create, 
 
 And form the soul anew ; 
 And all who will co-operate, 
 
 Shall find His promise true. 
 
 When we permit His light 
 
 Our evils to reprove, 
 And then those evils boldly fight, 
 
 He will the whole remove. 
 
 Though hard the contest prove, 
 
 And doubtful seem the fray, 
 He hovers o er us with His love, 
 
 Till we have gain d the day. 
 
 The Lord will then create 
 
 A firmament sublime, 
 Celestial thoughts to separate 
 
 From those of sense and time. 
 
 We then no more believe 
 
 The work to be our own ; 
 But all of good that we receive 
 
 Ascribe to God alone. 
 
 Thus will a second birth 
 
 Form heaven within the soul, 
 And man, a new created earth, 
 
 In order s orbit roll. 
 
00 MELODIES. 
 
 MIRIAM S SONG. 
 
 Air Sound the loud timbrel o er Egypt s dark sea. 
 
 Sing to Jehovah an anthem of praise, 
 And tell of His glory in rapturous lays ; 
 Sing of His triumphs when demons assaulted, 
 When hosts of infernals His human assail d, 
 The hells were subdued, and the Victor exalted 
 Like man He was tempted like God He prevail d. 
 Sing to Jehovah an anthem of praise, 
 And tell of His triumphs in rapturous lays. 
 
 Praise Him, ye ransomed He conquered for you, 
 Who fled from your sins, and beheld them pursue ; 
 Whelming your spirits in deep tribulation, 
 But Jesus was present, a pillar of fire, 
 And led you in safety through seas of temptation, 
 In which you beheld each assailant expire. 
 Sing to Jehovah an anthem of praise, 
 And tell of His triumphs in rapturous lays. 
 
 Praise Him who conquer d our spiritual foes, 
 When fierce, like an army of horsemen, they rose, 
 Threatening again in their shackles to bind us ; 
 
 Through billows of trouble He led us to shore, 
 While the horse and his rider were founder d behind us, 
 O erwhelm d in the gulf, to assail us no more. 
 Sing to Jehovah an anthem of praise, 
 And tell of His triumphs in rapturous lays. 
 
RELIGIOUS. 201 
 
 OPEN THE DOOR. 
 
 Sabbath. 
 
 That God who calls the human mind, 
 A temple for himself design d, 
 
 A house upon a rock 
 Assures us He will patient wait, 
 In mercy, at the mental gate, 
 
 And for admittance knock. 
 
 Who hears the gracious call within, 
 And draws the iron bolts of sin, 
 
 Which barricade the door, 
 Will banquet with a guest divine, 
 On life-imparting food and wine, 
 
 From Love s exhaustless store. 
 
 Come, then, dear Saviour be my guest, 
 Knock louder at this flinty breast, 
 
 And rouse me with thy voice ; 
 Then will I struggle to remove 
 The sins which now obstruct thy love, 
 
 And in that love rejoice. 
 
 Thou wilt not let me strive in vain 
 The gates of brass shall burst in twain, 
 
 The iron bars shall fall ; 
 Then will my soul thy temple be, 
 Where I shall ever feast with thee, 
 
 My God, my life, my all ! 
 
202 MELODIES. 
 
 HOW SHALL I COME BEFORE 
 
 How shall we sinners come before 
 Our blessed Saviour s dazzling throne; 
 
 Or how acceptably adore 
 The great redeeming God we own ? 
 
 Shall fatlings on His altar burn, 
 Or oil in bounteous rivers flow ? 
 
 Will God be pleased with such return, 
 For all the mighty debt we owe ? 
 
 Or shall we burst the tenderest tie 
 
 That binds the throbbing seat of sense, 
 
 And with our body s offspring buy 
 A pardon for our soul s offence ? 
 
 Ah ! no a humble, contrite heart, 
 Is all the offering God requires ; 
 
 Our only sacrifice, to part 
 With evil loves and false desires. 
 
 O let us, then, no longer stray, 
 
 Along the dangerous paths we ve trod ; 
 For he has plainly show d the way 
 
 Which will conduct us back to God. 
 
 Tis but to regulate the mind 
 By the pure precepts of his word ; 
 
 To act with truth and love combined, 
 And humbly imitate the Lord, 
 
RELIGIOUS. 203 
 
 OK THE DEATH OF AN INFANT. 
 
 Air Magdalen. 
 
 Almighty God! tis right, tis just, 
 That earthly frames should turn to dust ; 
 But, ah ! forgive the wishful tear, 
 That would detain a spirit here. 
 
 Go, gentle babe, to realms of bliss, 
 The chastening rod we humbly kiss ; 
 Thy Saviour calls thee home, my son, 
 And let his holy will be done. 
 
 Thy earthly form, now icy cold, 
 Was framed in beauty s fairest mould ; 
 But now, prepared by love divine, 
 A fairer, brighter form is thine. 
 
 Thy earthly parents loved thee well 
 So much, that language fails to tell ; 
 But, ah ! our love was weak and poor, 
 Thy heavenly Parent loves thee more. 
 
 Here, thou wert tenderly caress d, 
 Upon a fond maternal breast ; 
 But angel-nurses, forms of love, 
 Shall now caress my babe above. 
 
 Fain would paternal love have taught 
 Thy little opening world of thought ; 
 But we the pleasing task resign 
 To heavenly schools, and books divine. 
 
204 MELODIES. 
 
 Twaa all our thoughts and wishes still 
 To guard our darling here from ill ; 
 But that great God who call d thee home, 
 Has saved from greater ills to come. 
 
 Then let us hush the rising sigh, 
 And bid affliction s tear be dry ; 
 Our child still lives, his sorrows o er, 
 Where we shall meet to part no more. 
 
 There, shall the sweet maternal kiss, 
 Increase his joy enhance his bliss; 
 There, through redeeming love and grace, 
 The father shall his son embrace. 
 
 Almighty God ! tis right, tis just, 
 That earthly frames should turn to dust ; 
 But, O the sweet, transporting truth 
 The soul shall bloom in endless youth. 
 
 EPITAPH. 
 
 This frail memorial cannot tell his worth, 
 For brighter virtues seldom bloom on earth ; 
 Nor in one heart such various beauties blend, 
 As husband, father, mason, Christian, friend. 
 These duties done, to heaven his spirit bears 
 The widow s blessing, and the orphan s prayers; 
 For such his active charity has bless d, 
 And they must love him most who knew him best. 
 
ELEGIAC. 205 
 
 A JVIONODY 
 
 On the death of a highly-esteemed Friend. . .A. D. 1807. 
 
 My lyre, which erst to friendship tuned, I woke 
 
 In strains the sacred theme inspired, 
 While with its flame the glowing chords were fired, 
 Ah ! sad exchange ! the tie of friendship broke, 
 By death dissolved, must make its sadder theme ! 
 While every falling note with wo shall teem ! 
 To FLORIAN S early fate the muse shall pay 
 
 Sincere affection s purest lay ; 
 The emanation of a grief-fraught soul, 
 The real feelings of an honest heart, 
 Unfeign d, and unadorn d by art, 
 Who all her paler hues from nature stole. 
 
 Ye youths, ye virgin train, 
 Whose eyes to his responsive smiled, 
 When festive rites the hours beguiled, 
 
 With me complain ! 
 
 Me, whom the closer link of friendship join d 
 To his expanded heart where truth, combined 
 With every glowing grace, superior shone ; 
 With me commingle sympathetic tears, 
 While faithful Memory shall own 
 His worth, his virtues, past ! 
 She bids retrace the journey of his years, 
 Eeview the path, nor see a blemish cast. 
 
206 MELODIES. 
 
 Flush d by the balmy spring of youth, he rose, 
 In life s parterre, a flower of fairest hue ; 
 Denied affection s fostering, pearly dew, 
 Parental sunshine yet his tints disclose 
 Beauty internal fragrance all his own ; 
 Benevolence conspicuous shone, 
 And nectared charity distill d 
 In grateful odours! Who beheld him bloom 
 
 And yet their love withheld ? 
 Who, could they have foreseen his early doom, 
 
 But would have shed anticipated tears ; 
 Withheld the victim from the insatiate tomb, 
 If prayers could hold, for many, many years? 
 
 But prayers, nor youth, nor virtue, nought avail 
 
 Against diseases, ministers of death ! 
 
 The tyrant claims our forfeit breath, 
 
 And who his claim withstands? Entreaties fail! 
 
 One gift alone can make us scorn the foe, 
 
 Though not his shaft evade ; 
 The heavenly gift our Saviour brought below, 
 
 Religion., sweet, celestial maid ! 
 By thee sustained, the darkened path grows bright, 
 And leads to realms of everlasting light ! 
 Cease, then, my tears, to flow, 
 Cease, sighs, to murmur wo, 
 This peerless guide my friend secured, 
 While he the ills of life endured ; 
 Cheered by a seraph s song, 
 The youth she led along 
 
ELEGIAC. 207 
 
 The gloomy path its roughness fled, 
 
 And Terror hid his grisly head ; 
 
 The gate of Paradise displayed 
 
 Cherubs in robes of light arrayed : 
 And songs re-echoed through the empyreal dome, 
 As heavenly minstrels hailed him welcome home ! 
 
 But selfish sorrow will intrude 
 The loss is ours and nature will be heard 
 Till sorrow is subdued 
 
 By cooler reason s unimpassioned sway; 
 The worth we loved, the virtues we revered, 
 
 We must lament when torn away. 
 So young, to fall ! but youth, as hoary age, 
 
 Finds no respect ! The infant dies 
 When scarcely entered on the stage ; 
 
 His part to ope, and then to close his eyes. 
 Some claim a longer scene, and bustle round 
 Their little walk, with rant and sound ; 
 The curtain drops, and they are seen no more ! 
 
 Few labour onward through the tedious play 
 Till life s allotted, farthest verge is o er, 
 
 Then fall like fruit when autumn melts away. 
 Thus is it ordered, ORDER S Source to please ; 
 Who will impeach His infinite decrees ? 
 
 Granted, tis just yet sympathy must weep 
 To see him hastening to the silent dead 
 Without a kindred tear of sorrow shed! 
 Nor bosom where to fall asleep ! 
 
 TVnr finrul tn plrA Vii f>iro 
 
206 MELODIES. 
 
 Strangers thai mournful task performed ! 
 Yet strangers here were friends ; their tears, their sighs, 
 From bosoms flowed by purest feelings warmed. 
 
 Friends tied by nature could no more ; 
 
 Nor more sincerely such a loss deplore. 
 
 Might fond fraternal offices assuage 
 The pangs of sore disease ? these too denied ! 
 
 For ah ! a brother still of lesser age, 
 At distance languished, while his brother died ! 
 
 No tender sister weeping o er his bed ! 
 
 No anxious father soothing with his love ! 
 No mother ! God ! I touch a tender string ! 
 
 My heart s acutest nerve its vital thread ; 
 
 Struck too unkindly, tears of crimson move, 
 And wakened sorrow whets her blunted sting ! 
 
 O grant, ye powers that rule the lives of all, 
 If I am doomed, like him I mourn, to fall 
 Far from the bosom of my home, 
 Where fate may call, and I may roam 
 O grant my wish may hearts like those which bled 
 O er Florian s corse, mourn too for me ; 
 Such be the strangers round my bed ; 
 Such be the tears they shed. 
 
 Whoe er they be : 
 Such be the sacred care my ashes find, 
 
 When death has closed the scene : 
 Such be the impression on the youthful mind, 
 When followers round my grave convene ; 
 But more than all may I, like him, arise, 
 And join my friend in worlds beyond the skies. 
 
ELEGIAC. 20S 
 
 A DIRGE, 
 
 On the Deaths of John Adams and Thomas Jefferson. 
 July 4, 1826. 
 
 The strains of joy no longer float, 
 Or thrill upon our raptured ears, 
 
 But Sorrow wakes her saddest note, 
 And millions are dissolved in tears. 
 
 A nation, clad in sable weeds, 
 
 The dark habiliments of grief; 
 A nation famed for matchless deeds, 
 
 Weeps for a father and a chief. 
 
 Columbia mourns, though not bereft 
 Of all which makes existence dear, 
 
 For blessings, joys, and hopes, are left, 
 Which brighten in affliction s tear. 
 
 Yet still she mourns for they are gone, 
 Whose wisdom raised her fame so high, 
 
 Whose god-like acts her name adorn 
 With honour that can never die. 
 
 Who framed that bold, that dauntless chart, 
 Which gave a mighty empire birth, 
 
 Aroused to freedom every heart, 
 And spread its influence thro the earth. 
 
 18* 
 
210 MELODIES. 
 
 Who in her service laboured, both, 
 And ask d no recompense but this, 
 
 To watch her greatness in its growth, 
 Promote her fame, and share her bliss. 
 
 And Heaven vouchsafed to grant the boon 
 Till half a century had passed, 
 
 Until her sun had reached its noon, 
 There to be fixed while time shall last. 
 
 Then burst, with joy, their mighty hearts, 
 And set their raptured spirits free, 
 
 So Sol, in flood of light, departs, 
 And sets in glory s dazzling sea. 
 
 In peace the reverend sages slept, 
 
 Adorned with honours, crowned with years, 
 
 And angels smiled, while nature wept, 
 A silvery shower of sparkling tears. 
 
 Then, freemen, mourn but not as those 
 Whose hopes are laid beneath the sod, 
 
 For your lamented chiefs repose 
 Upon the bosorn of their God. 
 
 Mourn for the worth which all admired, 
 Now crowned with heavenly diadem, 
 
 And be with emulation fired 
 To live, to act, to die, like them. 
 
ELEGIAC. 211 
 
 A MONODY, 
 
 On the Deaths of the Ex-Presidents, John Adams, and 
 Thomas Jefferson, July 4, 1826. 
 
 The mid-day peal of joy had rung, 
 
 When Sol, in his car of glory, 
 A radiant glance from the zenith flung, 
 
 On a spot far famed in story. 
 
 He gazed on the scene, but sought in vain 
 
 For that band of patriot sages, 
 Whose deathless names alone remain, 
 
 Emblazoned on History s pages. 
 
 All, all were gone, but the godlike THREE 
 
 Revered by a grateful nation, 
 And they were our Adams, our Carroll, and he 
 
 Who drafted the DECLARATION. 
 
 He thought of the time, when in deep despair, 
 
 Columbia s troops were receding, 
 For millions were now rejoicing where 
 
 Her heroes then lay bleeding ! 
 
 " Tis done !" he cried, " and this JUBILEE 
 " Shall long be remembered in story, 
 
 " For TWO of the patriot godlike THREE, 
 " Shall depart in this blaze of glory." 
 
212 MELODIES. 
 
 He said, and amidst the joy and mirth, 
 
 (For the mandate had been given,) 
 The spirit of JEFFERSON rose from earth, 
 
 To meet its reward in Heaven. 
 
 He soared on high, to his place of rest, 
 
 With cherubim attendants, 
 And he smiling soared, for his country was biesi 
 
 With FREEDOM and INDEPENDENCE. 
 
 One glance of love was downward cast, 
 
 Like a beam of celestial glory, 
 O er Quincy s reverend sage it pass d, 
 
 Renowned like himself, in story. 
 
 He felt the ray, and his mighty heart 
 
 Burst with the sweet emotion, 
 Twas the year and the day he had prayed to depart 
 
 In the fervour of pure devotion. 
 
 Together they gained the elysium bower, 
 
 By angels received with gladness, 
 While nature wept in a silvery shower, 
 
 But not with tears of sadness. 
 
 Together they toiled for their country s good, 
 
 In her darkest hour of danger, 
 Together the arm of oppression withstood, 
 
 Each heart to fear a stranger. 
 
RELIGIOUS. 213 
 
 Together they soared to realms of bliss, 
 
 In a world of fadeless splendour ; 
 Together their names shall live in this 
 
 While LIBERTY has a defender. 
 
 HAPPINESS. 
 
 An Extract from Quarter-Day. 
 
 Who then is happy ? Ere she close the strain, 
 The muse herself shall answer. Tis the man 
 (Of easy fortune and a generous heart) 
 Whose charity by wisdom is directed ; 
 Who loves his God, his neighbour, and himself, 
 In just descending order ; whose employ 
 Is doing good to others ; whose reward, 
 The bright reflection of the joy he gives. 
 Like a mild taper in a diamond lustre, 
 Which multiplies one little ray to thousands, 
 His means of blessing still increase by use. 
 Not all the Horrors of thejlrst of May^ 
 Can shake the solid peace of such a man. 
 The changing seasons, times, events, and all 
 The various scenes that chequer human life, 
 And e en the chilling adverse storms of fate, 
 Serve but to ripen the celestial fruits 
 His active love produces ; draughts of bliss 
 He quaffs for every little taste he gives, 
 And finds a heaven in wishing others there. 
 To seek for happiness in things of sense, 
 
214 FOEMS. 
 
 in wealth, ambition, pleasure, or supineness, 
 
 Is but a vain exertion idle hope 5 
 
 For then we chase a transitory cheat, 
 
 And leave the game, the real prize, behind, 
 
 Hid in contentment s calm sequestered vale, 
 
 While we toil up the mountain s rugged side, 
 
 Tempting new dangers, and exposed to all 
 
 The storms that beat ambition s bleaker road; 
 
 Or perils worse than these, concealed beneath 
 
 The treacherous sweets that bloom in pleasure s path, 
 
 A thousand serpent-stings, unseen, but fatal. 
 
 And if in dastard indolence we rest, 
 
 Our lazy hopes are certain of defeat. 
 
 Then learn the true, the only real source 
 
 Whence happiness can flow a precept drawn 
 
 From holy writ this heavenly source proclaims 
 
 " To fear the Lord, and his commands obey, 
 
 Is man s whole duty," in u. single line ; 
 
 An easy yoke, a burthen light to bear. 
 
 Tis but to love in heart and action both 
 
 For love is the fulfilling of the law. 
 
 EPIGRAM. 
 
 " Tis priestcraft all," the impious atheist cries, 
 " The world was made by chance the Bible lies ! 
 Twere useless such assertions to repel ; 
 But what if chance has also made a hell ? 
 
RELIGIOUS. 215 
 
 CONSECRATION. 
 
 Jesus is God, and God alone, 
 
 O, be this TRUTH confest, 
 For tis the sure foundation stone 
 
 On which the church shall rest. 
 
 Though modern builders pass it by, 
 
 And scribes and priests reject, 
 On this blest TRUTH, which they deny, 
 
 We now the church erect. 
 
 Though earth and hell against it join, 
 
 Yet must this building rise ; 
 The work, Almighty God, is thine, 
 
 And wondrous in our eyes. 
 
 FLORIAN S GRAVE. 
 
 Extract from a Poem entitled New-Haven. 
 
 Here while I stray, beneath this poplar gloom, 
 Friendship demands a tear for yonder tomb ; 
 Where, freed from all the cares that life attend, 
 Reclines fair Virtue s and the Muses friend. 
 When first these grateful scenes allured mine eyes, 
 He taught me where to rove, and what to prize ; 
 When pensive Vesper led the starry train, 
 And Cynthia s splendours mark d the eastern main, 
 Here would we ramble, while the sighing breeze 
 
216 MELODIES. 
 
 Waved the tall verdure and disturb d the trees ; 
 Weave in our converse threads of moral thought, 
 And scan the truths surrounding emblems taught ; 
 Then with warm ardour dart our rapid view 
 Through present clouds to scenes of brighter hue ; 
 Anticipated joys we hoped to share, 
 And in imagination revell d there ; 
 Laid future plans of happiness and ease, 
 When love and fortune would unite to please ; 
 With rapture dwelt upon the grateful theme, 
 And with regret dismiss d the waking dream. 
 Yes, twas a dream ! and I remain to prove 
 That both were shadows, promised wealth and love, 
 Whilst thou wcrt call d from visionary scenes 
 To real pleasures and eternal greens, 
 Ere sad experience taught the cruel truth 
 That shadows only tempted ardent youth. 
 Florian ! tis mine to wish that Heaven s decree 
 Had snatch d us both from this tempestuous sea, 
 That life had ended ere despair begun, 
 And, as below our hopes, above our joys been one. 
 
POEMS. 
 
 XOJSCELLANEOUS PIECES. 
 
 AN ODE, 
 
 For the Grand Canal Celebration, November 4, 1825 
 
 Tis done, tis done ! The mighty chain 
 Which joins bright ERIE to the MAIN, 
 For ages, shall perpetuate 
 The glory of our native State. 
 
 Tis done ! Proud ART o er NATURE has prevailed ! 
 
 GENIUS and PERSEVERANCE have succeeded! 
 Though selfish PREJUDICE assailed, 
 
 And honest PRUDENCE pleaded. 
 
 Tis donel The monarch of the briny tide, 
 
 Whose giant arm encircles earth, 
 To virgin ERIE is allied, 
 
 A bright-eyed nymph of mountain birth. 
 
 To-day, the Sire of Ocean takes 
 
 A sylvan maiden to his arms, 
 The goddess of the crystal lakes, 
 
 In all her native charms ! 
 19 
 
218 POEMS. 
 
 She comes ! attended by a sparkling train ; 
 
 The Naiads of the West her nuptials grace ; 
 She meets the sceptred father of the main, 
 
 And in his heaving bosom hides her virgin face. 
 
 Rising from their watery cells, 
 Tritons sport upon the tide, 
 And gaily blow their trumpet-shells, 
 
 In honour of the bride. 
 Sea-nymphs leave their coral caves, 
 Deep beneath the ocean-waves, 
 Where they string, with tasteful care, 
 Pearls upon their sea-green hair. 
 
 Thetis virgin train advances, 
 Mingling in the bridal dances ; 
 Jove, himself, with raptured eye, 
 Throws his forked thunders by, 
 
 And bids Apollo seize his golden lyre, 
 A strain of joy to wake; 
 
 While Fame proclaims that Ocean s Sire 
 Is wedded to the goddess of the Lake. 
 The smiling god of song obeys, 
 
 And heaven re-echoes with his sounding lays. 
 
 " All hail to the ART which unshackles the soul ! 
 
 And fires it with love of glory ! 
 And causes the victor, who reaches the goal, 
 
 To live in deathless story ! 
 
MISCELLANEOUS. 219 
 
 " Which teaches young Genius to rise from earth, 
 
 On fancy s airy pinion, 
 To assert the claims of its heavenly birth, 
 
 And seize on its blest dominion. 
 
 " The ART which the banner of Truth unfurl d, 
 
 When darkness veiled each nation, 
 And prompted Columbus to seek a new world 
 
 On the unexplored map of creation. 
 
 " Which lighted the path of the pilgrim band, 
 
 Who braved the storms of ocean, 
 To seek, in a wild and distant land, 
 
 The freedom of pure devotion. 
 
 " Which kindled, on Freedom s shrine, a flame 
 
 That will glow through future ages, 
 And cover with glory and endless fame 
 
 Columbia s immortal sages. 
 
 " The ART which enabled her FRANKLIN to prove, 
 
 And solve each mystic wonder ! 
 To arrest the forked shafts of Jove, 
 
 And play with his bolts of thunder. 
 
 " The ART, which enables her sons to aspire, 
 
 Beyond all the wonders in story ; 
 For an unshackled PRESS is the pillar of fire 
 
 Which lights them to Freedom and Glory. 
 
220 POEMS. 
 
 " Tis this which called forth the immortal decree, 
 And gave the great work its first motion ; 
 
 Tis done ! by the hands of the brave and free, 
 And ERIE is link d to the OCEAN. 
 
 " Then hail fco the ART which unshackles the soul, 
 
 And fires it with love of glory, 
 And causes the victor who reaches the goal, 
 
 To live in deathless story." 
 
 Such strains if earthly strains may be 
 
 Compared to his who tunes a heavenly lyre 
 
 Are warbled by the bright-haired deity, 
 While listening orbs admire. 
 
 Such strains shall unborn millions yet awake, 
 While, with her golden trumpet, smiling Fame 
 
 Proclaims the union of the Mam and Lake, 
 And on her scroll emblazons CLINTON S name. 
 
 OUR NATIVE LAND. 
 
 In this vast rising empire of the west, 
 With freedom, science, fame, and plenty blest, 
 Where earthly comforts in profusion flow, 
 Each virtuous bosom must with rapture glow; 
 For here, where Liberty her fane has built, 
 No grief is found, but in the path of guilt ; 
 No pains, nor fears, the good man s heart annoy, 
 No tears are shed but those of sympathy or joy. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 THE HUNTERS OF KENTUCKY. 
 
 Air Miss Bailey. 
 
 Ye gentlemen and ladies fair, 
 
 Who grace this famous city, 
 Just listen, if ye ve time to spare, 
 
 While I rehearse a ditty ; 
 And for the opportunity, 
 
 Conceive yourselves quite lucky, 
 For : tis not often that you see, 
 
 A hunter from Kentucky. 
 Oh ! Kentucky, the hunters of Kentucky, 
 
 The hunters of Kentucky. 
 
 We are a hardy free-born race, 
 
 Each man to fear a stranger, 
 Whate er the game, we join in chase, 
 
 Despising toil and danger ; 
 And if a daring foe annoys, 
 
 Whate er his strength and forces, 
 We ll show him that Kentucky boys 
 
 Are " alligator horses." 
 Oh ! Kentucky, the hunters of Kentucky, 
 
 The hunters of Kentucky. 
 
 I s pose you ve read it in the prints, 
 
 How Packenham attempted 
 To make Old Hickory JACKSON wince, 
 
 But soon his scheme repented ; 
 
MELODIES. 
 
 For we with rifles ready cock d, 
 Thought such occasion lucky, 
 
 And soon around the General flock d 
 The hunters of Kentucky. 
 
 Oh ! Kentucky, &c. 
 
 You ve heard, I s pose, how New-Orleans 
 
 Is famed for wealth and beauty 
 There s girls of every hue, it seems, 
 
 From snowy white to sooty : 
 So Packenham he made his brags, 
 
 If he in fight was lucky, 
 He d have their girls and cotton bags, 
 
 In spite of Old Kentucky. 
 
 Oh ! Kentucky, &c. 
 
 But JACKSON, he was wide awake, 
 
 And was nt scared at trifles ; 
 For well he knew what aim we take, 
 
 With our Kentucky rifles ; 
 So he led us down to Cypress swamp, 
 
 The ground was low and mucky ; 
 There stood John Bull, in martial pomp, 
 
 And here was Old Kentucky. 
 Oh ! Kentucky, &c. 
 
 A bank was raised to hide our breast, 
 Not that we thought of dying, 
 
 But then we always like to rest, 
 Unless the game is flying ; 
 
MISCELLANEOUS. 223 
 
 Behind it stood our little force 
 
 None wished it to be greater, 
 For every man was half a horse, 
 
 And half an alligator. 
 
 Oh ! Kentucky, &c. 
 
 They did not let our patience tire, 
 
 Before they showed their faces 
 We did not choose to waste our fire, 
 
 So snugly kept our places ; 
 But when so near we saw them wink, 
 
 We thought it time to stop them ; 
 And twould have done you good, I think, 
 
 To see Kentucky pop them. 
 Oh ! Kentucky, &c. 
 
 They found at last twas vain to fight 
 
 Where lead was all their booty, 
 And so they wisely took to flight, 
 
 And left us all the beauty. 
 And now, if danger e er annoys, 
 
 Remember what our trade is, 
 Just send for us Kentucky boys, 
 
 And we ll protect you, Ladies. 
 Oh! Kentucky, &c. 
 
 That vast extensive region of the west, 
 So long by Spanish tyranny oppress d, 
 Has risen in her might, and bravely broke 
 Her galling shackles and degrading yoke. 
 
224 POEMS. 
 
 PRIZE ADDRESS, 
 
 On the Opening of the La F&yette Circus, for which was 
 awarded a Silver Cup, of Fifty Dollars value. 
 
 The cultured mind, accustomed to explore 
 And taste the choicest sweets of classic lore, 
 With rapture dwells on each inspiring lay 
 That paints the sports of Grecia s proudest day ; 
 When the throng d stadium rang with loud acclaims, 
 To hail the victor in her manly games ; 
 Those daring feats which famed Alcides taught, 
 To nerve the limb, and elevate the thought ; 
 Feats which the royal Iphitus restored, 
 And consecrated to the powers adored ; 
 Which gave to Greece a wreath of fadeless bloom, 
 And raised the glory of imperial Rome. 
 
 There, the fleet courser, with an eye of flame, 
 Bold, like his rider and as proud of fame. 
 Impatient champ d the bit, or pawed the ground, 
 With ear erect, to catch the trumpet s sound ; 
 Then, with a speed that mock d the passing wind, 
 Spurn d the dull earth, and left the world behind. 
 And with him flew erect upon his feet ! 
 The bold equestrian, through the furious heat, 
 Reckless of danger (such are Grecians still) 
 The rein submitted to the courser s will, 
 While, at the target, with unerring art, 
 The fearless rider threw the whizzing dart ! 
 
MISCELLANEOUS. 2 
 
 Or, with a harness d pair, of equal speed, 
 Vaulted with matchless grace, from steed to steed, 
 While mingled sounds of wonder and applause 
 Proclaimed the deepest interest in his cause ; 
 Till, past the goal, and claimant of the prize, 
 When peals of acclamation pierced the skies. 
 
 With feats like these, to charm the present age, 
 And join the stadium to the modern stage ; 
 To elevate the pleasures of the ring, 
 By every aid dramatic art can bring 
 For this, you see, another fabric reared 
 Where late a dreary, barren waste appeared ! 
 For this, kind patrons, we would humbly sue, 
 To dedicate the tasteful fane to you. 
 
 Here shall Latona s bright-hair d son impart 
 The sweetest lessons of his tuneful art ; 
 Here may the eye of taste admire the speed, 
 And graceful prowess, of the generous steed ; 
 And here, in pleased astonishment, may scan 
 The still more wondrous active powers of man. 
 Here, studious votaries of the classic page 
 May view the feats of Grecia s golden age ; 
 Feats which secured the victors of the game 
 Unfading honours, and a deathless fame ; 
 Inspired her youth with that chivalric glow 
 Which urged them onward to subdue the foe ; 
 Which fired her sons with emulative zeal, 
 To rise the guardians of their country s weal ; 
 
226 POEMS. 
 
 To which she owed the glory of her state, 
 And that unconquered pride which made her great; 
 Preserved her freedom gained the world s applause, 
 And prompts her now to be what then she was. 
 
 And if like causes like effects produce, 
 If you admit the stadium s wondrous use, 
 May not a thousand equal blessings spring 
 From such achievements as shall grace our ring? 
 May not our patriot youth, who here perceive 
 What sprightliness and courage can achieve, 
 Be fired with emulation to command 
 ** The fiery steed, and train him to their hand !" 
 To vault, like feathered Hermes, on his back, 
 And fearless guide him to the fierce attack ; 
 To wield the sabre, or direct the dart, 
 And boldly practice each equestrian art ; 
 To wrestle, leap, or throw the ponderous quoit, 
 And bear away the palm in each exploit ? 
 
 Yes, generous patrons thus our gallant youth, 
 Champions of freedom, honour, love, and truth, 
 Will learn to guard the sacred rights you prize, 
 And raise Columbia s glory to the skies ; 
 In every clime behold her flag unfurl d, 
 Till Freedom s golden star shall light the world. 
 
 The cross is rear d, the Turkish cresent wanes, 
 Grecia no more shall wear a despot s chains. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS. 227 
 
 -WASHINGTON S BIRTH. 
 
 Air Hail to the Chief. 
 
 Bright were her smiles, when the blushing Aurora, 
 
 Greeted the newly-born hope of the west ; 
 Phrebus, advancing in chariot of glory, 
 
 Gazed with delight on the infantile guest ; 
 Seraphs, commission d to watch o er his slumbers, 
 
 Shake from their pinions the odours of bliss ; 
 While, in the softest and sweetest of numbers, 
 Hark ! they are chanting an anthem like this : 
 Bright heir of endless fame, 
 Thine be a deathless name, 
 Thine be a glory to brighten the earth ; 
 Then shall a nation join, 
 Round Freedom s sacred shrine, 
 Hailing the day of our WASHINGTON S birth. 
 
 Fame heard the chorus, and braided the laurel, 
 
 Mars caught the tidings, and burnished his shield 
 Ruthless Bellona prepared for the quarrel, 
 
 Justice presented her sword for the field ; 
 Jove, from Olympus, beheld and commended, 
 
 Armed his own eagle in Liberty s cause ; 
 Pallas, the goddess of wisdom, descended, 
 Bearing the new Constitution and Laws : 
 While o er her hills and plains, 
 Swell d these seraphic strains, 
 Rise, blest Columbia, the Queen of the Earth ; 
 
228 MELODIES. 
 
 Soon shall your tyrants flee, 
 Soon shall your sons be free, 
 Hail to the day of your WASHINGTON S birth. 
 
 Hope smiled extatic, while Freedom, delighted, 
 
 Fix d on a scite for her temple to stand ; 
 There is her altar erected and lighted, 
 
 Thence does its splendour illumine the land ; 
 Hail an event of such glory and splendour, 
 
 Waken your paeans to Washington s name ; 
 Champion of Freedom, our nation s defender, 
 Hero and statesman, eternal his fame; 
 Still round our verdant plains, 
 Swell these seraphic strains, 
 Rise, blest Columbia, the Queen of the Earth - 
 Still shall a nation join, 
 Round Freedom s sacred shrine, 
 Hail to the day of our WASHINGTON S birth. 
 
 TO AMY. 
 
 What if the awful mandate should be given, 
 
 By Him who spoke creation into birth, 
 To blot for ever from the map of heaven, 
 
 The polar star would this enamoured earth 
 Still pay its adoration to the spot 
 Where once it twinkled ? Banish such a thought- 
 Believe me, dearest Amy, it would not. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS. 229 
 
 And would the widowed needle still present 
 Its polished point, to where that planet shone ? 
 
 Would all its mystic powers be idly spent, 
 Its homage paid to vacancy alone, 
 
 While Love s warm star was beaming in the west ? 
 
 O no its influence soon would be confest, 
 
 And, till it pointed there, the trembler would not rest. 
 
 Such is the heart its favourite star is gone, 
 And is it doomed to tremble without rest ? 
 O, must such matchless beauty waste alone, 
 Designed by heaven to make a lover blest ? 
 O, no, dear girl ! defeat not heaven s design, 
 Reward my love, O, say thou wilt be mine, 
 Or give me leave to hope, and I will not repine. 
 
 NEWSPAPERS. 
 
 A Paraphrase on part of Cowper s Task. 
 
 Tis pleasant, through the loop-holes of retreat, 
 (So Cowper sang, in strains divinely sweet,) 
 To peep at such a world ; and as it turns, 
 Survey at ease, the globe and its concerns ; 
 To seem advanced to more than mortal height, 
 With this vast spherule rolling in your sight ; 
 To view the noisy Babel from a cloud, 
 Behold the bustle, and not feel the crowd ; 
 To he ar the mighty din she sends around, 
 At a safe distance, where the dying sound 
 20 
 
230 POEMS. 
 
 Falls a soft murmur on the uninjured ear, 
 And thus to scan the whole without a fear. 
 The sound of war, if such a scene you view, 
 Loses its terrors ere it reaches you ; 
 And desolation, caused by hostile arms, 
 Excites your pity, grieves, but not alarms ; 
 Perhaps you mourn the avarice and pride 
 That render man a cruel fratricide ; 
 And at the echo of those thunders start, 
 In which he speaks the language of his heart ; 
 Perhaps you wonder as it floats around, 
 And sigh, but never tremble, at the sound. 
 
 As roves the bee, when vernal flowers expand, 
 So roves the traveller from land to land, 
 Where manners, customs, policy, and scenes, 
 Pay contributions to the stores he gleans ; 
 Still like the bee, in Summer s blushing prime, 
 He sucks intelligence from every clime ; 
 And on returning to his native shores, 
 He thus spreads out his hoarded honied stores, 
 And welcomes all a rich repast for you, 
 For as he travelled, you can travel too ; 
 Ascend his topmast, through his piercing eyes 
 Behold new countries in the distance rise : 
 With sympathising feeling, tread his deck, 
 Or cling, in terror, to the midnight wreck ! 
 With kindred heart, you suffer all his woes, 
 Share his escapes, his comforts, and repose. 
 Thus may your fancy the great circuit roam, 
 While (like a dial s index) safe at home. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS. 231 
 
 p 
 
 THE SOLAR SYSTEM. 
 
 Suggested by viewing Mr. Goodacre s Grand Orrery. 
 
 Behold yon orbs, in paths harmonious, run 
 
 Their destined courses round the parent sun ; 
 
 Grand correspondent of that sun above, 
 
 Whose light is wisdom, and whose heat is love. 
 
 There terra rolls a speck upon the sky, 
 
 Less than a speck to some more distant eye ; 
 
 Suppose, that on the surface of that ball 
 
 Myriads of little thinking insects crawl, 
 
 Whose trembling spark of life, at longest, burns 
 
 While round the sun they make an hundred turns 
 
 And then expire ; suppose your eye could trace 
 
 The various movements of this tiny race ; 
 
 Suppose you saw a few ambitious mites 
 
 Attempt to lord it o er their fellows rights ; 
 
 Or view d a host, who placed their hope and trust 
 
 In hoarding glittering grains of yellow dust ; 
 
 Or thousands, whose ambition but aspired 
 
 To see their gaudy hues awhile admired ; 
 
 Or millions, whose less innocent intents, 
 
 Concentrate in the groveling joys of sense 
 
 Would you not think they marr d their Maker s plan? 
 
 Then blush, proud mortal such, alas ! is man : 
 
 Such follies, or such crimes, apply to all 
 
 The busy insects of our native ball 
 
 And were not aid divine in mercy given, 
 
 Each had forever lost his destined Heaven. 
 
232 POEMS. 
 
 But think not, vainly, that the human race 
 Is limited to such contracted space ; 
 Dream not that those bright orbs were set on high, 
 To run their various courses through the sky, 
 For ornament alone ignoble thought, 
 To reason listen, and be better taught J 
 Know that Eternal Love conceived the plan, 
 And love eternal rests at last on man ; 
 For each effect its energies produce, 
 Is wrought by wisdom, and its end is use ; 
 Hence learn that every moving twinkling light 
 That decks the azure vault of heaven, at night, 
 Is round a central sun resistless hurl d, 
 Itself a ponderous globe a peopled world: 
 A world, perhaps, unstained by crime or blood, 
 Where social love prefers its neighbour s good ; 
 Where every joy derives its sweetest zest 
 From the fond wish of making others blest 
 Where Heaven-born charity exerts her powers 
 A world of bliss, as man might render ours. 
 Such peopled orbs in countless numbers fly 
 In never-varying order through the sky ; 
 And all with one accordant voice proclaim, 
 The power which made and still supports their frame* 
 
 Presumptuous Atheist ! if such wretch exist, 
 Can thy vain reasoning proofs like these resist ? 
 Say, can these planets, in harmonious dance, 
 Perform their revolutions thus by chance ? 
 
MISCELLANEOUS. 233 
 
 Perish the thought ! rise from thy native clod, 
 Renounce thy error, and confess a God. 
 For though with every mortal honour clad, 
 " An undevout Astronomer is mad ;" 
 Conviction seals thy lips presume no more, 
 But in mute wonder tremble and adore. 
 
 TO HARRIET. 
 
 New-York, January 1st, 1825. 
 
 Twas near that "witching time of night, 
 When spectres walk, and poets write ; 
 The play was out, the shops were closed, 
 And all the labouring world reposed ; 
 The waning moon was yet asleep, 
 Or had not risen from the deep ; 
 The Bridewell s trusty sentinel 
 Had cried aloud that all was well! 
 And some one, near the Debtor s Jail, 
 Had echoed back the lying tale ! 
 When, in my elbow-chair reclined, 
 The form of Harriet cross d my mind, 
 And I resolved to frame a lay, 
 Addressed to her, on New-Year s day : 
 But strove in vain for every Muse 
 Appeared determined to refuse 
 The smallest favour I could ask 
 And I resign d the hopeless task ; 
 
 20* 
 
234 POEMS. 
 
 Sank backward in my crazy chair, 
 The haggard picture of despair ! 
 
 When, suddenly, my vision failed! 
 And such a sound my ears assailed, 
 As filled my trembling heart with dread, 
 And shook the rafters o er my head ! 
 (Tis true, just then, I can t deny, 
 Four hackney coaches thundered by;) 
 Grimalkin gave a dreadful scream ! 
 (She might have had a frightful dream ;) 
 And Pug emitted such a groan, 
 As if some cur had stole his bone ! 
 I felt my creeping blood recoil ! 
 The lamp burnt blue ! (it wanted oil ;) 
 My bristling hair now stood erect ! 
 (For lack of combing, I suspect ;) 
 My eye-balls, in their sockets, glared ! 
 A certain sign that I was scared. 
 I listened, still, in breathless dread, 
 To hear the slow and heavy tread 
 Of some ascending footstep near, 
 Which fell like lead upon my ear ! 
 Nor listened long my garret door, 
 Which has been safely latched before, 
 Without a touch, wide open flew ! 
 And what a spectre met my view ! 
 
 An old decrepid sage appeared, 
 With hollow cheek, and snowy beard ; 
 
MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
 A wrinkled forehead, soaring high 
 Above a deeply-sunken eye ; 
 With head quite bald, except before, 
 Where one long silver lock he wore ; 
 One arm a ponderous scythe sustained, 
 One hand an hour-glass, almost drained, 
 In which the sand was wasting fast 
 (The recent year was almost past;) 
 Twas father TIME! I knew him well, 
 And hailed him welcome to my cell ; 
 Intreating him awhile to stop, 
 To warm his hands, and take a drop. 
 
 ; Time never stops . " he hoarsely cried, 
 " For no one tarries time nor tide ! 
 Though all abuse me, as I pass, 
 And strive to break my scythe and glass ; 
 Though all misuse and treat me ill, 
 Yet I keep jogging forward still. 
 But having ever met from you 
 That courtesy, to old age due, 
 Which you are exercising now, 
 (I smiled, and made my prettiest bow,) 
 I felt inclined, in passing by, 
 To let you know the reason why 
 The Muses came not at your call 
 They re going to the New-Year s ball, 
 For which they practised all last week, 
 And at this moment, while I speak, 
 
236 POEMS. 
 
 Are chatting, though tis dark and misty, 
 With fair Langlois and lively Christie ; 
 And then, at such an hour, you know, 
 Tis requisite to have a beau ; 
 Of course, it naturally will follow, 
 That their gallant is gay Apollo. 
 No wonder, then, that you, in vain, 
 Have summoned this Parnassian train ; 
 For let the fair but scent a ball, 
 And all, but Death, may vainly call. 
 
 " But fare you well ! I cannot stay, 
 For ere these sands have run away, 
 The custom-house of Heaven will clear 
 Jin out-bound ship the good Old- Year ; 
 And there s another one, I learn, 
 Belonging to the same concern, 
 Full freighted, just come in from sea, 
 Arrived below, consigned to me ; 
 And ere the hour of twelve be toll d, 
 Her precious cargo must be sold ; 
 Comprising minutes, hours, and days, 
 And other goods above all praise ; 
 Put up in lots, as each prefers, 
 To suit all sorts of purchasers , 
 A day, a week, a month, or year, 
 And I must play the Auctioneer. 
 Come with me, and attend the sale, 
 Twill serve you for a new-year s tale, 
 Your Harriet s fancy to regale. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS. *37 
 
 No sooner had the spectre spoke, 
 Than quick I seized my hat and cloak, 
 And sallied forth, with hope inspired 
 The citizens had all retired, 
 One " guardian of the night" except, 
 Who on a stoop securely slept. 
 My sage companion tottered on, 
 Exclaiming " Going ! going ! gone ! 
 A YEAR, in months, or weeks,ybr sale I 
 Who bids for part, or all the hale ! 
 What for an hour ? or twenty-four ? 
 With privilege of taking more ! 
 Who bids ! the sale s without reserve, 
 And none must from the contract swerve." 
 
 " Put up," exclaimed a bright-wing d elf, 
 " Each moonlight evening by itself; 
 The summer ones so much I prize, 
 I ll bid a thousand tender sighs." 
 " Once ! twice ! a going ! who bids more !" 
 Grief added to the sum a score, 
 With twenty thousand tears beside. 
 Philosophy stept up with pride, 
 And offered for each cloudless night. 
 Twelve problems, which he meant to write. 
 
 Poor Poetry approached the scene, 
 With threadbare coat, and pensive rnein, 
 A brimful heart, and empty purse. 
 And bid two thousand feet of verse ! 
 
233 POEMS. 
 
 Old Time, who took the wink from me, 
 Knock d down the lot to Poetry, 
 Who would no article remove, 
 Till he had shared the whole with Love ! 
 
 Another lot, of darker hue, 
 The salesman next held up to view, 
 Exclaiming, as he shook his glass 
 * Here s goods of quite a different class ; 
 A lot of nights, in cloudy weather, 
 Who bids the whole must go together ; 
 For fireworks and illuminations, 
 And various other demonstrations, 
 This kind of goods is just the thing; 
 Who bids ! they ll go for what they ll bring. 1 
 
 A host of fiends approached the spot, 
 Each eager to secure the lot : 
 Sly crafty Fraud, mean Breach-of-trust, 
 Intemperance, Murder, Theft, and Lust, 
 And every imp of Heaven accurs d. 
 Such rapid bids from crime and vice, f f 
 Secured the goods a heavy price ; 
 And ere the buyers left the spot, 
 Thy all agreed to share the lot. 
 
 The crowd increased ; the sage, perplext. 
 Put up a lot of week-days next ; 
 Industry bid, but Speculation 
 Out-bid him without hesitation, 
 
MISCELLANEOUS. 230 
 
 Until they run the lot so high, 
 That all the rest refused to buy ; 
 The auctioneer to dwell was loth, 
 So knocked the package down to both. 
 
 The Sundays only now remained, 
 For which fair bids were soon obtained ; 
 Pleasure and Indolence expected 
 To have the pleasant ones selected 
 For them alone, to take the best, 
 And leave Religion all the rest. 
 But TIME to this would not agree, 
 So knocked them down to Piety ; 
 Exclaiming, " Going! going ! gone! ! !" 
 The clock struck twelve! twas New-year s morn! 
 Aroused by poor grimalkin s scream, 
 I woke, and found twas all a dream. 
 
 But, Harriet, should my dream prove true, 
 And TIME have sold such goods to you, 
 May every bale, and lot, and piece, 
 Your capital of bliss increase, 
 While you deposit the avails 
 In Heaven, a bank that never fails. 
 And when the great account, at last, 
 Is posted, and correctly cast, 
 The balance-sheet will clearly prove, 
 That you ve eternal/wrafe above. 
 Till then, may pleasure crown you here, 
 For many a JVcto and Happy Year. 
 
240 POEMS. 
 
 REJECTED ADDRESS. 
 
 Intended for the opening of the New- York Theatre. 
 
 When simple nature first devised the plan, 
 And gave the chart of life to erring man, 
 With tearful eye, dejected Pity traced 
 His cheerless path across the sterile waste, 
 Nor found, amid the wilderness of woes 
 A single spot for shelter or repose. 
 There roved the form and image of her God, 
 Wild as the dreary trackless realms he trod ; 
 Savage and rude, uncultured, unrefined, 
 By turns the prey and butcher of his kind. 
 She saw, and sighed, in agony of soul, 
 And prayed that Mercy would revise the ecroll. 
 
 With magic pencil, dipt in hues of light, 
 ART touched the map, and all the scene was bright \ 
 A thousand islets, crown d with sylvan bowers, 
 The freshest verdure, and the sweetest flowers, 
 With gushing fountains, pure meandering rills, 
 Delightful valleys, and majestic hills, 
 Refresh d with dews by fragrant zephyrs fann d, 
 Seem d scatter d o er that shoreless sea of sand ; 
 The goddess saw dismiss d her false alarms, 
 And own d that life was not without its charms. 
 
 Among those charms, designed by polish d art 
 To warm the fancy, and improve the heart, 
 
MISCELLANEOUS. 241 
 
 The Drama opes its bright enchanting scenes, 
 Its object use amusement but the means ; 
 For though the muse resort to fiction s aid, 
 Fiction is here but truth in masquerade ; 
 And thousands, who her grave entreaties shun, 
 Are, by her borrowed smiles, allured and won. 
 
 She shows what ills beset our devious way, 
 When reason yields to passion s lawless sway, 
 And what inspiring hopes his steps attend, 
 Who clings to Virtue as his guide and friend ; 
 What glory crowns the hero and the sage, 
 Whose present labours bless a future age ; 
 And what celestial ecstacies reward 
 Each act that conscience, truth, and He-av n applaud. 
 Where er is felt the drama s genial sway, 
 The mists of vice and ignorance melt away, 
 Refinement follows, and her empire grows 
 Till moral deserts blossom like the rose. 
 
 Thus has her power this growing city blest, 
 The pride, the boast, the mistress of the west; 
 Where genius, science, arts, and taste abound, 
 And every sweet embellishment is found ; 
 And where the drama sees her cause extend, 
 Till virtue hails her as her warmest friend ; 
 While bigot Prejudice, with scowl austere, 
 Views her new temple proudly towering here ; 
 A fane, which we to-night, with rituals due, 
 
 Would consecrate to genius and to you. 
 21 
 
242 POEMS. 
 
 Accept the offeringlet this splendid pile, 
 Illumed by beauty s soul-inspiring smile, 
 Become the school of morals, wit, and taste, 
 By art embellished, and by fashion graced ; 
 Tis done, if you but deign to aid the cause, 
 Success is certain, blest with your applause. 
 
 REASON AND PASSION. 
 
 An extract from Beasts at Law. 
 
 The human mind s a tilting field, 
 Where two strong active spirits wield 
 The missive dart or pointed lance, 
 And parry, thrust, repeat, advance, 
 Or close, in obstinate affray, 
 Till one or t other gains the day. 
 But still the fight is not decided, 
 Their powers and rights are so divided, 
 The desperate war is still renew d, 
 For neither can be quite subdued ; 
 But each is, in his turn, the master, 
 Like Pollux and his brother Castor, 
 These spirits (as we might suppose, 
 They being such eternal foes) 
 Are as unlike in form and feature, 
 As much opposed in looks and nature, 
 And as dissimilar in all, 
 As men and angels since the fall. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS. 243 
 
 When charity expands the breast, 
 The first of virtues and the best ; 
 When LOVE within the soul arises, 
 Which all the law of GOD comprises ; 
 In short, when we re inclined to good, 
 And have some selfish wish subdued ; 
 We may be sure the fiend has reel d, 
 And that the angel holds the field. 
 But when we yield to passion s sway, 
 And hate or envy s rule obey ; 
 It will as certainly be found, 
 The angel welters on the ground ; 
 That we have turn d the fate of war, 
 And placed Apollyon on the car. 
 For though we fight on neither side, 
 Tis ours the victory to guide, 
 And by a vote we turn the scale, 
 For Vice and Virtue to prevail. 
 Too indolent, unless befriended, 
 To keep our heavy arm extended, 
 In careless ease we let it drop, 
 And Virtue falls with Vice atop. 
 In such a case, tis my opinion, 
 Rather than Vice should hold dominion, 
 We d best confess our arm is weak, 
 And succour of Religion seek ; 
 There we can find a potent charm, 
 Sufficient to support an arm 
 Of nature s smallest, weakest son, 
 Although that arm should weigh a ton. 
 
244 POEMS. 
 
 But stay, I ll demonstrate my meaning : 
 When Victory once by turns was leaning 
 To different sides of hostile foes, 
 Now aiding these, now helping those ; 
 Doubtful which way to turn the scale, 
 That this or that should most prevail ; 
 The leader of the chosen band, 
 In Israel s favour raised his hand, 
 And quick as thought their foes retreat, 
 Nor dared the tide of fate to meet ; 
 His hand withdrawn, the vanquish d turn, 
 And with rekindled ardor burn, 
 While Israel s ranks confused and broke, 
 By thousands fell beneath the stroke. 
 In this dilemma, undismay d, 
 He calls for holy Aaron s aid ; 
 (A beauteous figure of that power, 
 Who still supports us every hour ;) 
 The wearied arm the Priest sustain d, 
 And Israel soon the field regain d, 
 On their pursuers turned the flood, 
 And dyed the plain with heathen blood ; 
 Thus gain d the day and battle too, 
 And pay d their vows where justly due. 
 
 That minstrel wakes the song in vain, 
 Who weaves no moral with his strain ; 
 And he who flatters vice for pelf, 
 Deserves its penalty himself. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS. 245 
 
 VALE COLLEGE. 
 
 Extract from a Poem entitled New-Haven. 
 
 Access is mine, the willing gates unfold, 
 
 And Yale s assembled sons mine eyes behold ; 
 
 Our future statesmen, patriots, bards, divines, 
 
 For whom bright Fame the fadeless laurel twines, 
 
 Are here convened, and in each youthful face 
 
 Their rising greatness fancy fain would trace. 
 
 Say, are not here some souls that restless bum, 
 
 On life s great stage to take an active turn ; 
 
 To rise, the awful pillars of the state, 
 
 And rival ancient Tully in debate ? 
 
 Some who possess a portion of that flame 
 
 That gain d our Washington immortal fame ? 
 
 Others, whose philanthropic bosoms glow 
 
 To act like Franklin in relieving wo ? 
 
 Whose philosophic souls his fame inspires 
 
 To wield the thunder and direct its fires ; 
 
 To soar, on Fancy s wing, through trackless space, 
 
 View countless orbs and all their movements trace, 
 
 Govern d by order and unchanging laws, 
 
 And in effects behold the eternal cause ? 
 
 Some glowing with a Homer s living fire, 
 
 Design d to " wake to ecstacy the lyre," 
 
 To bid Columbia s future fame arise, 
 
 And rear Parnassus under western skies ; 
 
 Here fix the temple of the tuneful throng, 
 
 And rival Albion s boasted sons of song ? 
 
246 POEMS. 
 
 Or are not here some destined yet to shine, 
 With cloudless lustre, in the desk divine ; 
 To wake the soul, and guide its feeble view 
 To Him who made, and can its form renew ; 
 Recal the wandering wretch, his course restrain, 
 And gently lead him to the fold again ; 
 Arouse the careless, and support the weak, 
 And gospel truths with voice unfaltering speak ? 
 
 ************ 
 Hail ! sons of Genius ! youthful sages, hail ! 
 The glory, pride, support, and boast of Yale ; 
 Your country s ornaments aspire to prove, 
 And grace the spheres in which you re call d to move ; 
 So shall your Alma Mater rise in fame, 
 And deathless honours decorate her name. 
 And here the muse bewails her hapless bard, 
 Whose cruel fate such golden prospects marr d, 
 For Hope once whisper d to his ardent breast, 
 " Thy dearest, fondest wish shall be possess d" 
 Unfolded to his view the classic page, 
 And all its treasures promised ripening age ; 
 Show d Learning s flowery path which led to Fame, 
 Whose distant temple glittered with his name. 
 Illusive all! the phantom all believe, 
 Though still we know her promises deceive ; 
 Chill penury convinced the wretch too late, 
 Her words were false, and his a hapless fate. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS. 247 
 
 AN ADDRESS, 
 
 Intended to have been spoken at the Park Theatre, 
 
 for the Benefit of the Widow and Orphans of 
 
 HOPKINS ROBERTSON. 
 
 Patrons of worth whose presence oft has graced 
 The mental banquet here prepared for taste ; 
 But whose compassion led you here to-night, 
 To make affliction s burthen sit more light 
 Deign to accept tis virtue s sweetest food, 
 The widow s thanks the orphan s gratitude. 
 
 No visage, wet with artificial tears, 
 No bosom, shook with counterfeited fears 
 No feign d affliction no fictitious grief, 
 Now claim, from sympathizing hearts, relief. 
 The tears, now shed, from real fountains spring, 
 The purest tribute gratitude can bring ; 
 The sighs now breathed, to Mercy s footstool bear, 
 For you and you the widow s grateful prayer, 
 The sweetest incense that to heaven ascends, 
 To call down blessings on the orphan s friends, 
 And the reward is yours for sure, to-night, 
 The happiest dreams will on your slumbers light : 
 Fancy will paint a family of grief 
 Receiving, from your generous hands, relief; 
 And smiles shall greet you, from the humid eye 
 Which your benevolence alone could dry. 
 
248 POEMS. 
 
 But yet so well I know each generous heart, 
 You think this but a debt, discharged in part 
 A payment, to the offspring and the wife 
 Of one who served you faithfully thro life ; 
 Whose talents, labours, time were all combined 
 To please the fancy and improve the mind. 
 
 Whether as monarch of these mimic realms, 
 Or peasant, mid our canvas oaks and elms, 
 The hoary veteran, or the beardless lad 
 The lover happy or, the tyrant mad ! 
 In every character or gay or grave 
 You can attest the pleasure that he gave. 
 On life s great stage, he also play d his part, 
 Cheered by the plaudits of an honest heart ; 
 As husband, father, friend his business ran 
 The citizen the patriot the man ! 
 In all, he acted well yet, tis confess d, 
 One scene eclipsed in splendour all the rest : 
 When hapless Richmond, on one funeral pyre, 
 Saw beauty, talents, worth, and wealth, expire 
 When death abrupt on pleasure s precincts broke, 
 And held his carnival mid flames and smoke ; 
 When shrieks of madness and despair, combined 
 To freeze the blood, and agonize the mind 
 He stood undaunted, mid the unequal strife, 
 Encountering death, to save another s life ! 
 Tho blazing ruin revels o er his head, 
 Pouring a tempest on the quick and dead 
 
MISCELLANEOUS. 249 
 
 Tho* thousand forked tongues of flame demand 
 Their rescued victims from his daring hand 
 He still remains, the dreadful scene to brave, 
 Till hope expires, and fate forbids to save ! 
 This to his fame the brightest ray has given, 
 And called down blessings from approving heaven. 
 
 But ah ! the worth which you have all admired, 
 With humbler virtues tenderer, more retired 
 Could not avail from early death to save 
 Him who had rescued other s from the grave. 
 His part is o ec the manly form, which trod 
 These boards so oil, now sleeps beneath the sod ; 
 But the immortal mind, which never dies, 
 To scenes more bright and permanent must rise 5 
 There enter on eternity s vast stage, 
 And act an angel s part, an endless age. 
 
 Your generous bounty cannot reach him there 
 But ah ! he s left dear pledges to your care, 
 Whose fate may e en affect his bliss in heaven, 
 As your protection is withheld or given. 
 O then continue as you do to-night, 
 " To make affliction s burthen sit more light;" 
 Protect the hapless orphan shield the form 
 Of widowed love, from misery s " pitiless storm ;" 
 So will you hear angelic lips applaud, 
 And find the act itself a rich reward ! 
 
250 POEMS. 
 
 EPILOGUE, 
 
 To the Native Drama of " Narrah. Mattah" 
 
 tfpoken by Mrs. Sharpe, in the character 
 
 of Narrah Mattah. 
 
 The curtain s down and while they re all behind 
 Doffing their pilgrim dresses I ve a mind 
 At the gay modern world to have one peep, 
 And just say " how d ye do ?" before I sleep. 
 (Looks round the boxes.) 
 
 But how is this ? am I to understand 
 That these are the descendants of that band 
 Of pious plain-clad pilgrims, who came o er 
 To seek for freedom on this western shore ? 
 Why where s the plain mob cap ? the russet gown 7 
 The puritanic coat ? the close-cropt crown ? 
 Where s all that neat simplicity of dress 
 Which marked the puritans ? Egad ! I guess 
 I wan t alone more of them must have wed 
 With native chiefs, and mingled white and red ; 
 Else why this taste for feathers, beads, and shells, 
 In their descendants ? Why do modern belles 
 Paint their sweet faces, and from either ear 
 Suspend those sparkling trinkets ? And then here, 
 (touching her own arm.) 
 
MISCELLANEOUS. 251 
 
 So modestly to bury half their charms, 
 
 In those huge silken bags that hide their arms . 
 
 there s red blood in some of your blue veins, 
 And so there is in yours, ye dapper swains, 
 Or what s the meaning of those dandy chains 
 Extending from your bosoms to your pockets ? 
 
 1 wonder if you modern beaux wear lockets ! 
 
 Nay, hope not to escape me you will fail, (laughing / 
 These treacherous square-toes, I shall know your trail. 
 
 (Looks at the second tier.) 
 I see you there, but I won t tell your name, 
 He with the whiskers yes that s he the same ; 
 A mighty chief of some great tribe, no doubt, 
 You need not tell me I shall make it out : 
 Yes, yes I see it plainly now appears, 
 Those artificial whiskers hide long ears ! 
 
 But he with that blue blanket on one shoulder, 
 And feathered lip, must be a chief still bolder ; 
 Perhaps a sachem, sagamore, or scribe, 
 O, I perceive, he s of the cockney tribe. 
 
 (Looks at the third tier.) 
 
 But what is that thing ? yonder up above 1 
 He with the eye-glass ? There ! he s dropt his glove \ 
 What tribe claims him or it that taper shape ? 
 I ve strong suspicions it must be the ape ! 
 
252 POEMS. 
 
 You needn t smile, here, in the pit, below, 
 For I ve a word with you before I go. 
 Yes, do smile ! In mercy don t look grave, 
 For tis your tribe must either damn or save 
 The little bantling just gone off the stage. 
 Forget its faults, but not its tender age. 
 What if it be a little rude and wild, 
 Remember that a parent loves his child : 
 And I ll be sworn he s somewhere here to-night, 
 With feelings none can know but they who write. 
 So be good-natured, now, ye critic tribe j 
 Nay, do not frown can I not name some bribe? 
 Yes, here it goes don t let the new play fall, 
 And Narrah Mattah vows to kiss you all. 
 
 [Great applause. 
 
 Tis safe ! tis safe ! your generous hands decide it 
 There take a kiss among you, and divide it, 
 [Kisses her Tiand, and exit. 
 
 EPITAPH, 
 
 On a charming and much lamented Female, 
 
 This humble stone is meant to show 
 That Anna s vesture lies below ; 
 But she who wore it she we love, 
 IB in her bridal dress above. 
 
TffiTE 
 
MISCELLANEOUS. 253 
 
 THE ORFHAXT MAID. 
 
 Mr Bonnie Doon. 
 
 How hard the maiden orphan s fate, 
 
 Whose early joys and hopes are fled, 
 Who vainly asks the rich and great 
 
 For leave to earn her daily bread ! 
 Exposed to frowns, rebukes, and sneers, 
 
 In humble menial garb arrayed, 
 While heartless fools deride her tears, 
 
 And spurn the hapless orphan maid. 
 
 There was a time alas ! tis fled 
 
 When fortune, friends, and kindred smiled, 
 When sunny rays of joy were shed 
 
 Around the gay and happy child ; 
 When, shielded by parental care, 
 
 No pang of sorrow dared invade, 
 Save when she saw the meek despair 
 
 Of some poor hapless orphan maid. 
 
 But ah ! her parents died, and left 
 
 Their darling unprotected child, 
 Of fortune, friends, and joy bereft, 
 
 And then the maiden never smiled. 
 She only asked to toil for bread, 
 
 She sought no unrequited aid 
 But asked in vain ! till hope was fled, 
 
 And death relieved the orphan maid ! 
 
 22 
 
254 POEMS. 
 
 EPILOGUE, 
 
 TO COX S MUCH-ADMIRED OPERA OF " ROKEBY." 
 SPOKEN BY BARNES, PLACIDE, AND HILSON. 
 
 Enter Barnes, in character of a. Physician. 
 
 Barnes. 0, spare your hands tis useless, all this blarney , 
 The play can t live, without a word from Barney : 
 Tis like a patient quacks to death may steam him, 
 And he is damned, if science don t redeem him, 
 Grappling with fate, tis I alone can part em 
 Barney will save the piece, secundem artem. 
 
 Go on that s right your smiles are what I m after 
 The best prescription is a roar of laughter ; 
 One hearty lauh, no matter how excited, 
 May save a life when every hope is blighted. 
 
 Tis true, Placide has got an epilogue, 
 But taint the thing it don t " go the whole hog ;" 
 So, while he s back there, spelling out each line, 
 I ll give you an extrumpery of mine ; 
 Original throughout no one has read it 
 So, if you have a tear, prepare to shed it. 
 
 " A certain fair one once, in days of yore 
 Caught a bad quinsy, and her throat was sore ; 
 She could not speak, nor swallow, chew, nor sup, 
 She scarcely breathed the doctors gave her up ! 
 Her weeping friends, in silence, breathed their sighs, 
 And stood prepared to close her fading eyes ! 
 Twas at this awful crisis, rnid the gloom, 
 Her favourite monkey stole into the room ; 
 
MISCELLANEOUS. 55 
 
 With doctor s formal air approach d the bed, 
 Seized hold her wrist, then gravely shook his head ! 
 The droll manoeuvre call d a smile from death, 
 And one convulsive laugh restored her breath ; 
 Broke her disorder, let the fair escape, 
 Who owed her cure alone to Dr. Ape." 
 
 D ye take? or must I give your wits a jog ? 
 
 Stay here comes Harry, with his epilogue. 
 
 Enter Placide, who comes forward and speaks : 
 
 P. " In ancient times, when plighted vowa were broken" 
 
 Barnes You re too late, Hal the epilogue is spoken. 
 
 Placide Spoken ! By whom ? 
 
 Barnes By me. 
 
 Placide By you ! 
 
 Barnes Tis certain. 
 
 Placide... .Why taint a minute since they dropt the curtain, 
 And my address a good half hour employs. 
 
 Barnes I ve done the deed didst thou not hear a noise ? 
 
 If you attempt, you ll find yourself mistaken ; 
 I made them laugh that saved the author s bacon. 
 
 Placide*.,.*And who bade you display your monkey capers ? 
 The sun requires no aid from farthing tapers 
 1 saved the piece, sir. 
 
 Barnes ..You ! 
 
 Placide My humble talents 
 
 Secured the thing s success, and turn d the balance; 
 Or, as Prince Rupert says "alone I did it . " 
 Jt s true, I pledge my honour ! 
 
 Enter HUson, speaking: 
 
 ttilson ..Heaven forbid it ! 
 
 To put so mere a trifle " up the spout ! " 
 
 Placide. Hilson, be quiet ! I know what I m about. 
 
256 POEMS. 
 
 HUson That tone, my boy, smacks sharply of the acid. 
 
 Barnes. Placide by name, but not exactly placid. 
 You re somewhat wroth. 
 
 Placide I am and shall be wrother 
 
 I ll speak my speech ! 
 
 HUson. Not if you love the author. 
 
 Since I have saved his opera, twere wrong 
 To jeopardize it with a speech so long. 
 
 Placide You saved the opera ! 
 
 Barnes You saved it ! 
 
 Both You ! 
 
 Httgon Yes, I myself alone you know it s true ; 
 
 I hit it on the head and, lest it fail, 
 Here s a short epilogue, to clinch the nail : 
 
 Addressing the Audience. 
 
 " When erst the muses, on Parnassus top. 
 In mazy dances" 
 
 Barnes Prithee, Tommy, stop; 
 
 Throw poetry and physic to the dogs, 
 
 Nor bore our friends, here, with dull epilogues. 
 
 HUson Agreed, old Barney ! and, to end disputes, 
 
 The readiest way to harmonize our flutes 
 
 Is to admit so be it understood, 
 
 To please our friends we ve all done what we could. 
 
 If we have failed 
 
 Placide Why, then 
 
 Barnes What then, Placide? 
 
 Placide They ll take a good intention for the deed. 
 
 HUson I ll answer for t I know these gen rous folks, 
 
 They re always laughing at us, or our jokes. 
 But what of our young author ? Jests nor wit 
 Won t add a penny to his benefit. 
 
 Placide His benefit is safe. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS. 357 
 
 Barnei , ...What then of Rokeby? 
 
 HUsoti Should that be damn d it would a serious joke be. 
 
 But see! there s mercy in each judge s eye 
 The bard s acquitted! Rokeby shall not die! 
 
 Placide Egad ! their plaudits make old Drury shake ! 
 
 Httson It s just the thing! 
 
 Barnes I say " there s no mistake ." 
 
 EPISTLE, 
 
 ADDRESSED TO MY FRIEND G. P. MORRIS, ESQ. 
 
 The muse and myself, the other day, 
 
 Held a short colloquy together ; 
 
 For she sometimes calls, when she comes that way, 
 Though scarcely a moment she deigns to stay, 
 And seldom has any thing to say, 
 Save, " how d ye do what news to-day ! 
 
 Tis really charming weather ^ 
 
 She found rne alone, in my elbow chair 
 
 One arm has long been broken 
 In the attic, George you well know where, 
 For once, last summer, I saw you there, 
 When you kindly offered to pay my fair, 
 If I d brush my coat, and with you repair- 
 To breathe a mouthful of country air, 
 
 On the heights of green Hoboken. 
 
 As I said before, her ladyship came, 
 
 En disJiabille, as usual, 
 In costume resembling the slipshod 
 22* 
 
258 POEMS. 
 
 Whose Black-book sketches arc known to fame 
 Her robe was blue, and her hose the same, 
 Her sandals unlaced, and her gait was lame, 
 As she entered the room, and pronounced my name 
 In a manner and tone fiducial. 
 
 " Good day t ye, Reuben don t ask me to stay, 
 
 For I must hasten home to my toilet ; 
 As I go out with NORNA a-shopping to-day, 
 And HINDA goes with us besides, I must pay 
 A visit to THIRZA it s all in our way, 
 And then to IANTHE I ve something to say ; 
 Besides, I must call upon WETMORE and FAT, 
 And then there would be the Old Nick to pay, 
 If I didn t look in upon MORRIS too eigh ! 
 But now, while I think of it Reuben, do say, 
 Who is that comical C** ? I will lay 
 He is building a fame that will never decav ; 
 And so is my favourite PROTEUS nay, 
 No jealousy, Reuben, but win your own bay, 
 
 And never let envy soil it. 
 
 " Hush ! don t interrupt me there s tender ESTKLLE, 
 
 EVERARD, LARA, and ALPHA, and INMAN, 
 ISIDORA, or HARRIET with sweet ISABELLE, 
 And hundreds of others, are like to excel, 
 If they treat me politely, But, Reuben, do tell, 
 If I don t appear charming in this dishabille ? 
 " Say, why the deuce do you grin, man ?" 
 
 You look," I replied, " both ugly and old, 
 
 In these rascally dishabille dresses ; 
 Why, when you are visiting others, I m told, 
 The finest light gossamer vestures infold 
 
MISCELLANEOUS. 259 
 
 A 
 
 That form and those limbs of such exquisite mould, 
 With sandals that sparkle with spangles and gold, 
 While a chaplet of roses and diamonds untold, 
 Confine those wandering tresses. 
 
 " When others petition, you make reply, 
 
 In numbers of sweetest measure, 
 But to me you prate, like a chattering pie, 
 Of shopping, and visits, and a few small fry 
 Of Mirror contributors while here, poor I 
 
 In silence must wait your leisure ! 
 
 " Why not on me such favours bestow 
 
 As your other votaries win ? 
 Why prattle tome on subjects so low, 
 In a tuneless, senseless din ?" 
 
 " Why then you must know," 
 
 She said with a smile, 
 " That, when here below, 
 
 I adapt my style 
 To the company I am in. 
 
 " But, jesting apart, what is it you claim ? 
 
 I ll grant you the boon, I swear it : 
 That is, if I m able come, give it a name." 
 "Then fire me, at once," I replied, " with the flame 
 That animates HALLCCK, and lights him to fame ; 
 To alike ,dazzling summit direct my aim, 
 Procure for my numbers an equal acclaim ; 
 Secure me a chaplet as bright not the same, 
 
 And teach me as humbly to wear it." 
 
 She smiling replied, while her head she shook, 
 " In vain should I bid you take it ; 
 
260 POEMS. 
 
 For Apollo, when late, with a shepherd s crook, 
 He toy d with a maid, by a gurgling brook, 
 Hadjconcealed his lyre in a private nook, 
 Which HALLECK observed, and slyly took, 
 And none but HALLECK can wake it." 
 
 THE 
 
 n Occasional Address, spoken by Mrs. Duff, at the Bowery 
 Theatre Firemen 1 s Benefit, January 24, 1827. 
 
 Hoarse wintry blasts a solemn requiem sung 
 
 To the departed day upon whose bier 
 The velvet pall of midnight had been flung, 
 
 And nature mourn d through one wide hemisphere. 
 Silence and darkness held their cheerless sway, 
 Save in the haunts of riotous excess ; 
 And half the world in dreamy slumbers lay, 
 
 Lost in the maze of sweet forgetfulness. 
 
 When lo ! upon the startled ear 
 There broke a sound, so dread and drear, 
 As, like a sudden peal of thunder, 
 Burst the bands of sleep asunder, 
 And filled a thousand throbbing hearts with fear. 
 Hark ! the faithful watchman s cry 
 Speaks a conflagration nigh ! 
 See ! yon glow upon the sky 
 
 Confirms the fearful tale ! 
 The deep-mouth d bells, with rapid tone, 
 Combine to make the tidings known ; 
 Affrighted silence now has flown, 
 And sounds of terror freight the chilly gale ! 
 
MISCELLANEOUS. 261 
 
 At the first note of this discordant din, 
 
 The gallant FIREMAN from his slumber starts, 
 Reckless of toil or danger, if he win 
 The tributary meed of grateful hearts. 
 From pavement rough, or frozen ground, 
 His engine s rattling wheels resound, 
 
 And soon, before his eyes, 
 The lurid flames, with horrid glare, 
 
 Mingled with murky vapour, rise 
 In wreathy folds, upon the air, 
 And veil the frowning skies . 
 
 Sudden, a shriek assails his heart ! 
 
 A" female shriek ! so piercing wild 
 As makes his very life-blood start 
 
 " My child ! Almighty God ! My child * 
 
 He hears and gainst the tottering wall 
 
 The ponderous ladder rears, 
 While blazing fragments round him fall, 
 
 And crackling sounds assail his ears ! 
 His sinewy arm, with one rude crash, < ," o 
 Hurls to the earth the opposing sash, 
 
 And, heedless of the startling din, 
 Tho smoky volumes round him roll, 
 The mother s shriek has pierced his soul ! 
 
 See! See ! He plunges in ! 
 
 The admiring crowd, with hopes and fears, 
 
 In breathless expectation stand ! 
 When lo ! the daring youth appears, 
 Hailed by a burst of warm, extatic cheers, 
 
 Bearing the child, triumphant, in his hand ! 
 
262 POEMS. 
 
 TO CAFT. J. B. AIID LADY, 
 
 ON THE DEATH OP THEIR THIRD AND LAST REMAINING CHILD. 
 
 " Insatiate archer ! could not one suffice ! 
 
 Thy shaft flew THRICE, and thrice my peace was slain ." 
 
 YOUNG. 
 
 Weep on, bereaved ones there s no sin in tears, 
 When nature s tenderest ties by death are broken, 
 
 For HE who pities while he chastens, hears 
 The sigh of sorrow, as submission s token ; 
 
 And HE remembers, too, when Lazarus slept, 
 
 His own divine compassion "Jesus wept!" 
 
 Weep on but mourn not with a hopeless sorrow, 
 Raise your moist eyes to scenes beyond the grave, 
 
 And own that HE, from whom each bliss we borrow, 
 Takes back in mercy, what his mercy gave : 
 
 He takes them home tis love s, not fate s, decree, 
 
 That where our treasures are, our hearts may be. 
 
 Weep on, bereaved ones twas for this your God 
 Severed the ties that kept your hearts below j 
 
 Thwart not his purpose, but revere the rod, 
 And meekly kiss the hand that gave the blow : 
 
 The keenest pangs are all in mercy given 
 
 Humility s the only path to heaven. 
 
 Weep on but waste not one delicious tear 
 On the cold sui face of their earthy bed ; 
 
 Your babes are risen nought but dust is here, 
 Why seek the living, then, among the dead? 
 
 Their souls have risen, from the mouldering tomb, 
 
 To scenes of bliss, where joys eternal bloom. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS. 263 
 
 Weep on but, like a sunbeam in a shower, 
 Let this bright truth a ray of light from heaven, 
 
 Shine through the gloom of sorrow s darkest hour, 
 The smile of peace the hope of sins forgiven : 
 
 The sweet assurance, that the ties of love, 
 
 Can ne er be severed in the realms above. 
 
 TO MARY ANN. 
 
 Dear Mary Ann, the sparkling gems, 
 
 Which deck the brow of even, 
 Are rayless, to the diadems 
 And jewels on the garment hems 
 Of sainted maids in heaven. 
 
 The fleecy snow, so pure and white, 
 
 By winds of winter driven, 
 Is darker than the shades of night, 
 To those celestial robes of light 
 
 Which clothe the nymphs of heaven. 
 
 No banquet e er by mortal spread, 
 
 No feast by monarch given, 
 Can match the living wine and bread, 
 With which the virgin train are fed, 
 
 Who crowd the courts of heaven. 
 
 The crown, the robe, the feast be thine ; 
 
 To all who ask, they re given ; 
 The jewels, gems, the bread and wine, 
 Will fill thee with that flame divine, 
 
 Which lights the maids of heaven. 
 
264 POEMS. 
 
 Thine be the pearl of nameless worth, 
 
 By Christ alone tis given 
 And though we never meet on earth, 
 If we obtain the second birth, 
 Thou lt kiss the bard in heaven. 
 
 THE BOOK OF THE HEART. 
 
 WRITTEN IN A TOUNG LADY S ALBUM. 
 
 Thy MIND is an ALBUM, unsullied and bright, 
 Just opened for angels and spirits to write 
 Each thought and affection, intent and desire, 
 That wisdom may sanction that love may inspire. 
 
 The book is immortal guard it with care, 
 Lest demons should sully its pages so fair ; 
 Repulse such intruders, nor shrink from the strife, 
 And Jesus will smile on the Book of thy /." 
 
 EPITAPH. 
 
 that the icy touch of death should blight, 
 Just in the bloom of youth, a form so bright ; 
 When smiling hope illumed a cultured mind, 
 Rich in endowments of the fairest kind ! 
 By all respected, by the good approved, 
 By kindred hearts, how tenderly beloved ! 
 Yet, cease to mourn for virtue cannot die 
 The youth still lives in realms beyond the ky. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS. 265 
 
 APOLOGUE, 
 
 My little girl, the other day, 
 
 (Three years of age a month ago,) 
 Wounded her finger while at play, 
 
 And saw the crimson fluid flow. 
 With pleading optics, raining tears, 
 
 She sought my aid, in terror wild ; 
 I smiling said " dismiss your fears, 
 
 And all shall soon be well, my child." 
 Her little bosom ceased to swell, 
 
 While she replied with calmer brow, 
 " I know that you can make it well, 
 
 " But how, papa? I don t see how." 
 
 Our children oft instruct us thus ; 
 
 For succour, or for recompense, 
 They look with confidence to us, 
 
 As we should look to Providence. 
 For each infantile doubt and fear, 
 
 And every little childish grief, 
 Is uttered to a parent s ear, 
 
 With full assurance of relief. 
 A grateful sense of favours past, 
 
 Incites them to petition now, 
 With faith in succour to the last, 
 
 Although they can t imagine how. 
 
 And shall I doubtingly repine, 
 When clouds of dark affliction lower ? 
 
 A tenderer Father still is mine, 
 Of greater mercy, love, and power : 
 
 He clothes the lily, feeds the dove, 
 The meanest insect feels his care : 
 23 
 
POEMS. 
 
 And shall not man confess his love, 
 Man, his own offspring, and his heir? 
 
 Yes, though he slay, I ll trust him still, 
 And still with resignation how ; 
 
 He may relieve, he can, he will 
 
 Although I cannot yet see how. 
 
 FOR VIOLA S ALBUM. 
 
 Yes, I would add one humble leaf, 
 To the bright chaplet thou art twining, 
 
 But ah ! its verdure will be brief, 
 
 For time is such an errant thief, 
 
 He blights the sweetest buds with grief, 
 And leaves the fairest flower declining. 
 
 But there s a wreath, that ne er can fade, 
 Already for thy temples twined, 
 
 Such as in heaven the angels braid, 
 
 To deck the brows of every maid, 
 
 Who, like Viola, here displayed 
 The beauties of a cultured mind. 
 
 That wreath shall deck Viola s brow, 
 
 In realms unknown to time or grief, 
 
 And each young plant she cultures now, 
 
 Each infant mind her toils endow, 
 
 Will breathe to heaven a fragrant vow, 
 
 Brightning the tints of every leaf. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS. 267 
 
 MASONIC ODE. 
 
 Intended for the opening of the grand Gothic Saloon, in th& 
 new Masonic Hall. 
 
 When the great Architect of heaven and earth, 
 Spoke this magnific system into birth, 
 
 And bade its numerous orbs in order roll, 
 To perfect wide creation s wondrous plan, u 
 He breathed his own pure spirit into man, 
 
 And man became a living soul ; 
 Lord of the fair elysian fields he trod, 
 An image and a likeness of his God ; 
 Designed, by wisdom infinite, to be 
 A living temple of the Deity ; 
 An earthly palace, where would deign to dwell 
 A guest divine, of name ineffable ! 
 
 But, love of self, a wily serpent, stole 
 Into the sacred precincts of the soul, 
 
 And tempted man to taste and eat 
 The specious, fair, forbidden fruit of pride, 
 Which heavenly love in mercy had denied ; 
 
 By which offence, 
 He lost the Eden of his innocence, 
 
 And fled, an exile, from the blissful seat. 
 The hallowed mental temple thus became 
 
 A mass of shapeless ruins, where 
 Eternal Truth no more inscribed His name, 
 
 A den of thieves, and not a house of prayer, 
 
 Twas to rebuttdihis miniature of heaven, 
 
 This temple of Jehovah in the mind, 
 That the eternal three-fold WORD was given, 
 
 And our symbolic mystic ART design d. 
 
268 POEMS. 
 
 For this, confiding Faith, and smiling Hope, 
 With sweet celestial Charity, appear d ; 
 
 Wisdom, and Strength, and Beauty, join d the group, 
 And each a column of the fabric rear d ; 
 Surmounted by the royal-arch above, 
 Join d by the key-stone of celestial love. 
 The work completed, on this heavenly plan, 
 His tabernacle is again with man. 
 
 As an auxiliar in this glorious cause, 
 
 Our fellow-craft have reared this gothc pile, 
 Sacred to pure Benevolence, whose laws 
 Of mutual kindness light a blissful smile 
 In sorrow s dewy eye. 
 This splendid dome 
 Shall never echo an unheeded sigh, 
 For Charity, descending from the sky, 
 Claims the proud fabric as her future home, 
 Her earthly temple, where her blazing shrine 
 Glows with a light that never shall decline, 
 Till thousands yet unborn, admiring see 
 And own the peerless worth of MASONRY. 
 
 EPITAPH. 
 
 He is not here, but risen wherefore shed 
 Affliction s tear, or seek among the dead 
 For one that lives, and claims immortal youth, 
 With all the bliss that flows from love and truth? 
 Grieve not for dustnor let one sigh alloy 
 A new-made angel s ecstasy of joy. 
 
* * 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS. 269 
 
 TO A YOTWG LADY, 
 
 Could any charm have broke the spell, 
 That long has chained my humble lyre, 
 
 Thy smile had waked the silent shell, 
 
 And taught its sweetest notes to swell 
 With pure poetic fire. 
 
 But, oh ! its cords are sleeping still, 
 
 And e en thy charms must plead in vain ; 
 
 This heart has lost its wonted thrill, 
 
 Intruding cares its fervours chill, 
 And check its votive strain. 
 
 TO 
 
 And wilt thou think of him who traced 
 
 This tributary lay, 
 Or will his image be effaced, 
 As foot-prints in the dew are chased 
 
 By the nexl solar ray? -,, _>.,- 
 
 Can memory s light become so dim, 
 That thou wilt not remember him ? 
 
 I will not libel thus a heart, 
 
 Where every grace resides, 
 Where modest nature, void of art, 
 Directed still by virtue s chart, 
 In peerless state presides : 
 She shall thy silent prompter be, 
 Sometimes, dear girl, to think of me. 
 23* 
 
< i i 
 
 270 POEMS. 
 
 TO BELINDA. 
 
 those eyes ! but that right eye in particular ! 
 
 BILLY LACKADAT. 
 
 Those auburn traces sweetly play, 
 
 Around that pearly neck so fair, 
 And sweetly does that brow display 
 
 The clustering ringlets slumbering there. 
 Not sea-born Venus, famed of old, 
 With streaming locks, like threads of gold, 
 
 Sparkling with ocean s liquid brightness, 
 Could boast of graces so divine, 
 As those bewitching locks of thine, 
 
 Which shade thy forehead s sunny whiteness. 
 
 The softest shade of Tyrian dye, 
 
 Could never with that cheek compare ; 
 Nor will the bright carnation vie 
 
 In colour, with thy Up, my fair. 
 What though Cashmere s delightful vale, 
 With balmy odour freights the gale 
 
 At every fragrant feast of roses, 
 Its charms are here why farther seek ? 
 Its tints are blooming on thy cheek, 
 
 Its fragrance on thy lip reposes. 
 
 That lip, so like the bow of love, 
 
 In graceful curvature and hue, 
 And there s a dimple just above, 
 
 A quiver for his arrows, too, 
 That sacred shrine of nameless charms, 
 That faultless shape, those graceful arms, 
 
MISCELLANEOUS. 271 
 
 That peerless elegance of motion ; 
 With richer beauties of the mind, 
 All all, in pne dear form combined, 
 
 May well inspire this heart s devotion. 
 
 But oh, that eye, that beaming eye, 
 
 Mild as the softest star of even, 
 Clear as the azure of the sky, 
 
 Bright as the vesper lamp of heaven I 
 Whence was that orb of beauty stole, 
 Whose matchless lustre, in my soul 
 
 Has lit a flame no power can smother? 
 " Which ? asked the fair" I m clear of theft 
 These sixteen years I ve own d the left, 
 
 And pa paid Scudderforthe other. 1 
 
 DUETT. 
 
 Air " When poor, the spirits flag." 
 
 SHE When grief the heart benumbs, 
 
 How the pulses languish ! 
 HE. Hopo, like a cherub, comes, 
 
 Then we lose the anguish. 
 SHE. Here, late, were clouds of gloom, 
 
 All the scene surrounding; 
 HE. Now all is dressed in bloom, 
 
 Hearts are gaily bounding. 
 BOTH Still, then, in pleasure s bower, 
 
 Let us rove delighted ; 
 Joy is a transient flower, 
 
 Taste it ere tis blighted. 
 
272 POEMS. 
 
 SHE. Should dark despair return 
 
 On the coming morrow, 
 HE. Love s torch will brighter burn 
 
 Mid the gloom of sorrow. 
 SHE. Love may himself decamp, 
 
 In the hour of sadness ; 
 HE. Then feed the urchin s lamp 
 
 With the oil of gladness. 
 BOTH. Thus, here, in pleasure s bower, 
 
 Let us rove delighted ; 
 Joy is a transient flower, 
 
 Taste it, ere tis blighted. 
 
 COME, LET US TRIP IT LIGHTLY. 
 
 Come, let us trip it lightly, love, 
 
 Where Flora s sweets are blending ; 
 The moon is beaming brightly, love, 
 
 With starry lamps attending. 
 The grove and hill, the mead and rill, 
 
 Have charms that must delight thee, 
 Then let us haste their sweets to taste, 
 
 \Vhile zephyr s sighs invite thee. 
 An hour like this imparts a bliss 
 
 To souls of kindred feeling, 
 A pure delight, serenely bright, 
 
 Along the pulses stealing. 
 
 The evening star is peeping, love, 
 
 From yonder paler cluster, 
 The glassy lake i? sleeping, love, 
 
 Enriched \vilh borrowed lustre. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS. S7S 
 
 The babbling brook, with brighter look, 
 
 Meanders through the dingle ; 
 And chirping notes from insect throats, 
 
 In tuneless measures mingle. 
 An hour like this, which wakes to bliss, 
 
 The hearts of meaner creatures. 
 Must surely light a smile as bright 
 
 On love s expressive features. 
 
 THE SILENT CONFESSION. 
 
 To a lady, who asked the author if he could interpret a blush that 
 he had noted. 
 
 O yes, twas a fervour of feeling, 
 
 That gush d like a stream from the heart, 
 And flew thro the pulses, revealing 
 
 What language could never impart. 
 It gave to that frame an emotion, 
 
 Which sweetly the feeling confessed j 
 A zephyr might breathe on the ocean, 
 
 And wake such a swell on its breast. 
 
 The glow of thy visage express d it, 
 
 Twas borne to my heart in a sigh ; 
 An eloquent silence confess d it, 
 
 It spoke in the glance of thine eye. 
 In short, twas the soul of my treasure,. 
 
 Aroused in alarm from its sleep, 
 That flew to those windows of azure, 
 
 And lifted their curtains to peep. 
 
276 POEMS. 
 
 TO IAITTHE. 
 
 lanthe, could I touch the lyre, 
 
 With magic art like thine, 
 I d wake the spirit-breathing wire 
 To thoughts of light and tones of fire, 
 Like those which, breathed by thee, inspire 
 
 This raptured heart of mine. 
 And I would still the lay prolong, 
 
 And oft the strain repeat, 
 To tell how much I love thy song, 
 Its numbers are so sweet. 
 
 I ve marked thee ere a dozen springs 
 
 Had bloomed upon thy cheek, 
 When, buoyant on her glittering wings,. 
 Thy infant fancy warbled things 
 Sach delicate imaginings, 
 
 As poesy can speak. 
 Twas genius, uncontrolled by art, 
 
 And reckless of defeat, 
 I heard the lay, it touched my heart, 
 
 Twas wild and simply sweet. 
 
 I marked the next, with cultured mind, 
 
 In all the charms of youth, 
 And knew thy lovely form enshrined 
 A heart which every grace combined, 
 By native taste and art refined, 
 
 The pure abode of truth. 
 Then, when I listened to thy lay, 
 
 Each pulse with rapture beat, 
 It seemed to bear the soul away, 
 
 Twas exquisitely sweet. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS. 277 
 
 Another heard the one alone 
 
 Whose worth inspired the strain ; 
 Whose manly heart is honour s throne, 
 Who breathed a sigh for every tone, 
 And made his modest wishes known, 
 
 Nor did he plead in vain. 
 And when a wife I heard thee still 
 
 The matchless strain repeat ; 
 How must his heart with transport thrill ! 
 
 Twas ravishingly sweet. 
 
 And is there yet a tenderer tie 
 
 To twine lanthe s heart ? 
 Can warmer feelings light her eye, 
 And bid her pulses quicker fly ? 
 Can any other s smile or sigh 
 
 Such ecstasies impart ? 
 There can an infant s smiles inspire 
 
 A strain with joy replete ; 
 A mother s love attunes the lyre 
 
 Tis now divinely sweet ! 
 
 _________ <t ,;< 
 
 COLUMBIA, THE PRIDE OF THE WORLD. 
 
 there is a region, a realm in the west, 
 
 To tyranny s shackles unknown, 
 A country with union and liberty blest, 
 
 That fairest of lands is our own. 
 Where commerce has opened her richest of marts, 
 
 Where freedom s bright flag is unfurled, 
 The garden of science, the seat of the arts, 
 
 Columbia, the pride of the world. 
 24 
 
278 POEMS. 
 
 The rays of her glory have lighted the earth, 
 
 While tyranny s minions, dismayed, 
 Acknowledged her prowess, admitted her worth, 
 
 And shrunk at the flash of her blade. 
 For conquest or plunder she never contends, 
 
 For freedom, her flag is unfurled ; 
 And foemen in battle, in peace are thy friends, 
 
 Columbia, the pride of the world. 
 
 Her clime is a refuge for all the oppress d, 
 
 Whom tyranny urges to roam ; 
 And every exile we greet as a guest, 
 
 Soon feels like a brother at home. 
 Then hail to our country, the land of our birth, 
 
 Where freedom s bright flag is unfurled , 
 The rays of whose glory have lighted the earth, 
 
 Columbia, the pride of the world. 
 
 TO A. 
 
 When that soft beaming eye reviews 
 This grateful tribute of the Muse, 
 Those coral lips must not refuse 
 
 One little word to frame. 
 And be the little word they choose, 
 
 The Poet s name. 
 
 O breathe but that, in one soft sigh, 
 Whene er these couplets meet thine eye, 
 And Zephyr, as he flutters by, 
 
 Shall bear the sigh to me, 
 And whisper in thine ear, that I 
 
 Remember thee. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS. 279 
 
 PRINTERS ODE. 
 
 For the Fourth oJJuly, 1827. 
 
 Sons of Faust, to whom belong 
 Hearts and arms for freedom strong, 
 Festive rites, and patriot song, 
 
 Join in revelry. 
 Raise the tributary lay, 
 "fis Columbia s natal day, 
 Let each heart be light and gay, 
 
 Heirs of liberty ! 
 
 Banish hence each petty feud, 
 Let no selfish care intrude. 
 Tis the hour for gratitude, 
 
 Social mirth and glee ; 
 While the sparkling rubies swim, 
 Round each mantling goblet s brim, 
 Quaff them ere their light be dim, 
 
 Drink to liberty. 
 
 Think what cause for joy is ours, 
 In tliis land of fruits and flowers, 
 Splendid towns, and shady bowers, 
 
 Blest with liberty; 
 
 Freed from sceptre, crown, and throne, 
 Independence is our own, 
 Never, but to Heaven alone, 
 
 Will we bend the knee. 
 
 Peace and plenty, through the land, 
 Scatter joys on every hand, 
 Bidding grateful hearts expand, 
 
 On our jubilee ; 
 
POEMS. 
 
 Hark ! the cannon s martial roar, 
 Loud proclaims from shore to shore, 
 That Columbia s sons adore 
 
 Heaven-born liberty ! 
 
 We who boast the matchless art 
 Which can light and truth impart, 
 Let us all, with hand and heart, 
 
 Keep the jubilee ; 
 Tis our ART, and that alone, 
 Makes the worth of freedom known, 
 While admiring millions own, 
 
 That has made them free. 
 
 What inspired our sires to brave 
 Ocean s rough tempestuous wave, 
 Seeking freedom, or a grave, 
 
 Death, or liberty ? 
 Twas the PRESS, a beacon-light. 
 Beaming on their mental sight, 
 Led them through that gloomy night, 
 
 O er the stormy sea. 
 
 This sustained them in the field, 
 This compelled the foe to yield, 
 This is freedom s sword and shield, 
 
 This proclaims us free. 
 Let us, then, our joy express, 
 For the blessings we possess, 
 While a free unshackled PRESS 
 
 Guards our liberty. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS. 281 
 
 THE FEMALE INVINCIBLES. 
 
 Written for Miss Rock. 
 
 MUSIC BY THE LATE CHARLES GILFERT, ESQ. 
 
 When Love s rcveillee summons matron and maid, 
 
 Julia- Ann is the first to appear on parade; 
 
 Ever ready at roll- call, with weapon in hand, 
 
 To advance, wheel, and halt, at the word of command. 
 
 With a passing salute, as we march in review, 
 
 To the rub-a-dub-dub and the rat-tat-too ! 
 
 SPOKEN, Attention, company ! Right, dress ! Support 
 arms ! By platoons, right wheel ! Forward, guide left, 
 march i 
 
 With a passing salute as we march in review, 
 To the rub-a-dub-dub and the rat-tat-too ! 
 
 For conquest prepared, yet determined to yield, 
 Fair Therese and Sophia are the next in the field ; 
 Where they gaily manoeuvre their bright polished charms, 
 Waiting Hymen s command for presenting their arms. 
 With a passing salute as we march in review. 
 To the rub-a-dub-dub and the rat-tat-loo ! 
 
 SPOKEN. Halt! Ready! Aim! As you were! By 
 the right flank, file left march ! 
 
 With a passing salute as we march in review, 
 To the rub-a-dub-dub and the rat-tat-loo I 
 
 Well armed and equipped for a trial of skill, 
 Fair Eliza and Jane next appear at the drill ; 
 Though reckless of danger, they ll face any man, 
 Yet their fire often proves but a flash in the pan. 
 24* 
 
282 POEMS. 
 
 With a passing salute as we march in review, 
 To the rub-a-dub-dub and the rat-tat-too ! 
 
 SPOKEN. On right, file into line ! Rear rank, open 
 order, march ! Present arms ! Carry arms . Close order ! 
 Right face, march ! Recover arms ! 
 
 With a passing salute as we march in review, 
 With the rub-a-dub-dub and the rat-tat-too ! 
 
 A SONNET ON SONNETS. 
 
 When memory takes a retrospective gaze 
 Upon the bright effusions of my brain, 
 She cannot find I note the fact with pain 
 
 Mid all that heterogeneous mass of lays, 
 A single SONNET ! This might blight a fame 
 
 Greater if greater can be than the one 
 
 Which now rewards the muses favourite son 
 I mean myself and gilds his deathless name. 
 
 This must not be, and so I ll write one now. 
 Let s see ; it must comprise just fourteen lines, 
 Dull, flat, and heavy ; this at least combines 
 
 The requisites alluded to, I trow ; 
 Two more complete it; now the bard entwines 
 
 The neplus ultra garland round his laurelled brow! 
 
 THE END. 
 
INDEX 
 
 TO THB 
 
 CONTENTS OF THIS VOLUME. 
 
 Arise, my love 10 
 
 Awake, my dear Jane . , , 1 ! 1 ! .... 31 
 
 Awake again thy witching lyre . . . . .* . . . ...... 56 
 
 A smile from thee - 37 
 
 And did I upbraid you, my love . . ... 57 
 
 And may I hope, thou kind one? 68 
 
 And did I say my lyre should sleep 183 
 
 And wilt thou think of him 269 
 
 Ah, why, sweet minstrel . 69 
 
 Adelaide, Felicity " Before thy infant lips" 82 
 
 Address Opening of the Park Theatre 178 
 
 Address Opening of La Fayette Circus 224 
 
 Address Opening of the Bowery 240 
 
 Address Firemen s Benefit, 260 
 
 Address Hopkins Robertson 247 
 
 Apologue -"My little girl," 265 
 
 Believe me, if there s aught on earth 11 
 
 Believe not the slanders 43 
 
 Bucket" How dear to this heart," 12 
 
 Balm of the heart 16 
 
 Bashful lover 22 
 
 Beside a streamlet 33 
 
 Bankruptcy of the heart 73 
 
 Before thy infant lips could frame 82 
 
 Beauty, sweet mysterious power 99 
 
 Bugle " Deep murmurinp- down the lonely dell," .... 118 
 
 Bright is the Word 191 
 
 Book of the heart 264 
 
 Come to my cot 6 
 
 Cottage Lass , 15 
 
 Christmas Gambols . . , 76 
 
284 INDEX. 
 
 Calumny" Ah, what avails," 94 
 
 Confiding woman 101 
 
 Canal, the Grand, 137 217 
 
 Consecration 215 
 
 Cathleen O Moore 275 
 
 Come, let us trip it lightly, love .. .. . ... ... 272 
 
 Columbia, the pride of the world 277 
 
 Dancing gaily on the green 18 
 
 Deaf and dumb" The ills that call," 98 
 
 Deep murmuring down the lonely dell 1 18 
 
 Dark was the hour 120 
 
 Doctor Stramonum 171 
 
 Death of an infant 203 
 
 Dirge Adams and Jefferson 209 21 1 
 
 Evening " Tis pleasant when the world is still,".. .. 23 
 
 Embarked on the ocean of life 67 
 
 Edwin Deslile " The battle was ended," 90 
 
 Epitaphs 185, 187,195, 204, 261 2G8 
 
 Epilogue to Narrah-Mattah 2oO 
 
 Epilogue, to Itokeby 254 
 
 Epistle to Geo. P. Morris, Esq 184, 297 
 
 Flowers of Life 88 
 
 Friendship " What power can prop," 92 
 
 Fair vocalist 91* 
 
 Female ornaments "All hues," 96 
 
 Fashions" To tyrant fashion," 103 
 
 Freedom s star 110 
 
 Freedom s Constellation 112 
 
 Free.lom s Jubilee 115 
 
 Fashions " How fashions change," 155 
 
 Friseur, the expert 1 67 
 
 Florian s grave 215 
 
 Fireman, the an Address 260 
 
 Female Invincibles 28 1 
 
 Grave of hapless Mary 19 
 
 Got x i Morning 28 
 
 Giving and receiving 55 
 
 Gentle peace, on ruffled pinion 109 
 
 Glory gilds the western skies 112 
 
 God is in his holy temple 1 94 
 
 Gamut, the 67 
 
 How dear to this heart. 12 
 
 jHere, in scenes of sweet .-vclusion 13 
 
INDEX. 858 
 
 Harlem Mary 21 
 
 Harvest home " When mellow autumn," 30 
 
 Hay-makers " It is sweet, love, to stray" 34 
 
 Harriet s favourite poems 64 
 
 Hail! the season of joy and festivity 76 
 
 Hibernia s tears for ever flow 93 
 
 How happy is the minstrel s lot 100 
 
 Hail, La Fayette ! 122 
 
 Hark! the martial drum 122 
 
 Hark! the clamorous bugle 135 
 
 How shall we sinners come before him .... 202 
 
 Happiness an extract from Quarter-day 213 
 
 Hunters of Kentucky 221 
 
 Halleck, the purloiner of Apollo s lyre 257 
 
 I ve a peaceful little cot f} 
 
 Is therela light whose effulgence 16 
 
 I love to* hear the flute s sweet notes 24 
 
 I love only thee 43 
 
 I would a garland twine, my love 49 
 
 I sigh not for glory 53 
 
 I had a lyre, when hope was young. 59 
 
 I heard a sweet strain in the grove 63 
 
 I own I chid the pensive strain 68 
 
 I asked the muse to breathe a name 85 
 
 Imprisoned Debtor 87 
 
 Independence. ..126, 128, 131, 134, 136, 138, 140, 142, 279 
 
 Incarnation . .......... 186 
 
 lanthe, could I touch the lyre 276 
 
 Invincibles, Female 281 
 
 Kiss " Does Eliza remember?" 47 
 
 Kaleidescope " Just like hope" 86 
 
 Let those whose hearts 19 
 
 Loves she like me ? 32 
 
 Love and jealousy 41 
 
 Love s eyes are so enchanting 44 
 
 Love and valour 45 
 
 Love s Ledger" I own myselt" 46 
 
 Land s End {v The gale was propitious" 78 
 
 Let politicians rail and fight . . , , 83 
 
 La Fayette s welcome 119,121, 122 
 
 Landlord, the hard-hearted 168 
 
 Milkmaid c; When blushing Aurora" g 
 
 Morn of May " Arise, my love" 10 
 
286 INDEX. 
 
 .. 
 
 My father s farm 11 
 
 Mary s grave " Let those whose hearts" 19 
 
 Morning " Aurora paints the orient skies 29 
 
 Miniature " That tranquil brow" 39 
 
 Music, the language of love : 42 
 
 Meeting " I saw them meet" 60 
 
 Minstrel " How happy is the minstrel s lot". ........ 100 
 
 Masonic Odes 120, 267 
 
 Montgomery s poems to a young lady 148 
 
 Morning an extract from Beasts at Law 180 
 
 Miriam s song 200 
 
 Monody, on the death of a friend 205 
 
 Do do do Jefferson and Adams... 209, 211 
 
 Maids of heaven 263 
 
 My little girl, the other day 265 
 
 Nay, my all of joy that s left 50 
 
 Nosegay " Here the rose and lily" 51 
 
 Nature and the passions 58 
 
 Nuptial song c O blest is the festival" 74 
 
 Now amity, hope, and pleasure 81 
 
 Nay, ask me not for wit or rhyme 84 
 
 Now the torch of rapture burns 101 
 
 New-York 1 33 
 
 New- Jerusalem 1 88 
 
 Nativity 192 
 
 Newspapers 229 
 
 O green was the poplar 20 
 
 O I shall ne er forget the spot 48 
 
 stay, sweet vision ! 61 
 
 O blest is the festival hallowed by duty 74 
 
 O trust not faithless hope too far 95 
 
 O who, reclined in dastard ease 116 
 
 Open the door 201 
 
 Orphan maid 253 
 
 O say, can this be love 274 
 
 O yes, twas a fervor of feeling 273 
 
 Pride of the valley 17 
 
 Poplar " green was the poplar" 20 
 
 Peaceful home " The heart sustained" 40 
 
 Progress of improvement 124 
 
 Philosophy and religion 182 
 
 Quarter-day 176 
 
 Repulse " When first I sought" 54 
 
INDEX. 287 
 
 Returning home " No longer shall fortune" 71 
 
 Rights of woman 104 
 
 Regeneration 189 
 
 Redemption 190 
 
 Reason and passion 242 
 
 Sweet seclusion 13 
 
 Smile of affection 16 
 
 Sweet the hour, when freed from labour 18 
 
 Sounds of war were swelling wild 45 
 
 Sigh " Softly stealing from her breast" 52 
 
 Smile of love 62 
 
 See him surrounded 122 
 
 Seasons, the To Julia 150 
 
 Sin no more 181 
 
 Seek ye the Lord 193 
 
 Solar system , . 231 
 
 Suppliant, or the orphan maid 253 
 
 She hung on my bosom 275 
 
 Silent confession 273 
 
 Sonnet on Sonnets 282 
 
 The moonbeam on the Hudson 5 
 
 The morn awakes, in blushes dressed 9 
 
 Twas noon, and the reapers t 14 
 
 The cottage lass, the courtly dame 15 
 
 The pride of the valley is lovely young Ellen 17 
 
 They sing of blue-eyed Mary 21 
 
 Tis pleasant when the world is still > 23 
 
 The groves their vernal sweets have lost 25 
 
 Tomb of Henry 26 
 
 The blushing precursor of Phoebus 28 
 
 The heart sustained by hope alone 40 
 
 The budding hopes 40 
 
 The world is no longer the desert 65 
 
 Though thousand gems 70 
 
 The gale was propitious 78 
 
 Tear of Gratitude--" There is a gem" 79 
 
 Thy ruby lips must kiss the brim 97 
 
 The drum had ceased, the bugle slept 102 
 
 Twas war and the plough in the furrow 114 
 
 The banner of liberty, proudly unfurled 119 
 
 The God of battle bo thy shield 123 
 
 Tit for tat the coquet punished , 160 
 
 To the Rev. J. Hargrove 197 
 
 Time s auction 233 
 
588 INDEX. 
 
 The muse and myself the other day 257 
 
 To Capt. J. B. and Lady 162 
 
 Those auburn tresses 270 
 
 To my wife 50 
 
 Village clock The morn awakes 9 
 
 Variety" The noblest talent" 27 
 
 When blushing Aurora 8 
 
 Water-melon " Tvvas noon" 14 
 
 When the mild star of evening 16 
 
 When bashful Lubin sought my hand 22 
 
 Where Hudson s murmuring billows 26 
 
 Wreath of love 38 
 
 When infant Cupid ventured first 41 
 
 When first I sought my Lydia s love 54 
 
 Widowed ivy " I marked of late 5 75 
 
 When eyes are bright with pleasure 80 
 
 What nymph, asked Apollo 91 
 
 William s promotion 102 
 
 While each freeman s son 104 
 
 Waterman " Let philosophers boast" 106 
 
 When the lily of Gallia 121 
 
 Whiskers a tale , 163 
 
 Weeping Mary bathed in sorrow 184 
 
 Widow, the 196 
 
 Worldofmind 198,199 
 
 Washington s birth 227 
 
 What, if the awful mandate 223 
 
 When grief the heart benumbs 271 
 
 Why does my heart 274 
 
 Yes, or no " The groves their vernal sweets" 25 
 
 Yes, love can discourse 42 
 
 Yes, yes, I go he whispered soft Ill 
 
 Yale college 245 
 
 Yes, I would add one humble leaf. . 266 
 
 Zodiac To Julia 145 
 
Melodies, 
 
 duets, trios 
 
 * . me 
 
 
 
 
 JUN 1 8 194 
 
 "MENDING 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 x 
 
 
 
 / 
 
 M272177 
 
 KV 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRA