1 ;< *V^i t i 51 THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES CONTENTS. Page Preface v Autobiography of the Author ix Self I The Force of Circumstances 15 Thoughts 37 Lines written by request, after leading Sherlock on Death .. 45 written impromptu, on the fly leaf of a young Lady's PiizeBook 4 9 written impromptu, on being asked by a young Lady to write some Verses on Heat h R 1 Monody on the Death of a Favourite Dog 55 Lines, impromptu, on being asked by Laura to write " some- thing " in her Album 59 A Paradox f>3 To 67 To the same 7 1 Lines sent with a Bottle of " Parfait Amour" to ■ , previously to her Marriage 75 Farewell 79 Lines, on being asked by a young Lady to wiite her some- thing on her Birth-day 81 The Terribly Early Man 85 Charade 87 Ditto 91 Ditto 93 Ditto 97 Ditto 99 Ditto 101 Ditto l<)3 8 PREFACE. This little Volume consists of a compila- tion of several scraps of Poetry — which have been written from time to time— some very recently — others long ago. The Author has led so erratic a life, for many years past, that he has lost, — or mislaid, — many of his Manuscripts, which would have increased this "little Volume" to a much greater bulk — None of them were ever intended for publication. And he now prints what remain to him, in a condensed form, solely for the purpose of guarding against the future loss of his poetical lucu- brations, — which — after all — may be "of no value but to the owner." ! VI PREFACE. The Poem on " Self" speaks for its- " self?' If it should offend any one, it must proceed from " the ardor of conviction" that what is there advanced is — in the main — too true! The " Force of Circumstances" requires some little explanation. It was written under the full belief that what it contains is essentially true — namely, that the after- life of every individual is — more or less — forcibly influenced by the " circumstances" in which his early — or even, later — life happens to be placed — no one can contravene this. The Author is far from having any wish — or intention — of impugning the Provi- dence of God — of which " without contro- versy, great is the mystery." ! The " Thoughts, by a Quasi- Predestina- rian Layman," also requires — perhaps more PREFACE. Vll — explanation. It was the manifest discre- pancy between some texts of Scripture with others that first led the Author's mind to the subject. Some passages of it may appear to be harshly put — but all that the Author intends to convey, is the conviction, in his own mind, that the " Texts" to which it has reference, — cannot be accurately translated from i/ie original/ The "Autobiography" of the Author was written — on a request — to which he, thoughtlessly, acceded. He had scarcely written twenty lines, before he discovered what a difficult task he had undertaken ! Let those that doubt the weight of this ex- cuse, — themselves attempt to write their " autobiography" in verse/ They will then find out the restraints and "difficulties" to which they are exposed ! Many passages in the Author's life have, Vlll PREFACE. of necessity, been passed over — more out of deference to the feelings of others than his own. It can, therefore, hardly be attributed to him, that he has, in any essential degree, gone counter to his motto — " Nothing ex- tenuate ;" and, most certainly, has not set down " aught in malice." The trifles that follow speak for them- selves — they were written, at various times, as an amusement in the occasional leisure hour of the writer. The Charades may puzzle some — to others, they may be of easy solution. The whole will — no doubt — be considered as a curious poetical medley ! AUTOBIOGRAPHY II IE AUTHOR. •' Nothing extenuate." Oft as the seasons roll their rapid course, And bring to me, their sorrows, and remorse, I sit me down, to contemplate the plan, Fixed, — from Eternity, — to govern man ! And then recoil — bewildered with the theme,— " Is this not fancy — or — a Phantom dream' 1 '' f ! But when — alas ! — I strive to think it so, The stern realities but answer — " No" / " This is the chequered life, you 're doomed to spend," — " In joys, or sorrows, till its term shall end," — " And then, shall come, that final — endless — Fate " " To fix — for ever — your eternal state"! A AUTOBIOGH A1U1V Well ! be it so ! there's naughl I 've power to do, I 've hud my pleasures, and — my sorrows too, ! And now — in this drear time of ending life, I suffer, sorely, from unworthy strife! But what is that to others? — yet to me, It adds a load of bitter misery ! Still — let me not on such sad topics dwell, I '11 'tempt — howe'er unprofitable — to tell The simple story of a life, nigh spent, That leaves its remnant anything but content .' My life began — with every prospect fail - , I know not one with whom it could compare I speak not, now, of those scholastic years, (Prescriptive period of smiles and tears) The •• smiles" arose from prospect of " vacation," The ' tears' and sorrows, for its short duration ! And yet — I had my pleasures, e'en at school, (1 never was considered quite a fool ! — ) I well remember, that -on one occasion. There was a fete — rejoicing— an ovation OF THE UJTHOK. XI To celebrate a certain fame — Which gallant Englishmen can, ever claim, At sea? — on shore? but that I quite forget, Its main remembrance is still vivid yet ; — I think it was the victory off Trafalgar, No matter ! — 'twas an incident of the war ; A poem — prize was offered for the best, Which (on that topic,) should transcend the rest : I wrote my lines — on fancied conquest bent— (Was ever Poetaster more content? !) A certain Dullard, then prefers a claim, That /should write something in the ' Dullard's' name; I penned the lines, and gave them to my friend. His "heart-felt gratitude" would " never end"! The time complete, to claim the valued prize, ( Which all aspirants viewed with eager eyes,) We both advance! — when — what was my disgust. To see my hopes all crumbled in the dust! The wished-for boon was handed to my neighbour, Vicarious pro/it of his brother's labor ! Ml Al TOBIOGRAPHY These follies past —I then was sent to College, To '• make acquaintances," and — gather knowledge! The "knowledge" gathered, was of small extent, I left the College — poorer than 1 went! Whose fault was this ? tne ' fault 9 was all my own,/ I ne'er was horn to mount the classic Throne ! I picked the crumbs that fell beneath the chair, And was content with what I "gathered" there. — But let not Isis claim the sole behoof, Of sending such a scholar from her roof! The Cam might almost 'claim' an equal share, I had a " Liceat Migrare" there! 1 spent my time, — as Undergraduates do, — In hunting — shooting — after chapel -Loo! I lost three hundred pounds, one luckless night ! Its payment gave me an uneasy fright ! I wrote my creditors an " /. (). U." — ( Portentous vowels in the distant view!) But how to pay it from an empty pocket?! Nothing was left me but — to — " strike the docket !" In miserable plight — I bent my joyless way. In wonder what my Creditors had to sav ! OF nil. u riiou. xiii They jeered - and ridiculed— my rueful mien, — Declaring that 'twas ' nothing but a fit of spleen' ! And then, said something (I cannot find a rhyme) Of — " Fortune's favors at another time" — ! I sate me doivn, and won FIVE hundred hack'. More than equivalent to my former lack! And then, they said, that—" as a young beginner," " I'd been a pretty tolerable winner" ! Casting a slur on, what they called my "honor" ! For rursiny Fortune — and then — ride home upon Iter .' At once I rose ! — and placed upon the table, Two hundred pounds — to share as they were able, — " There ! take the surplus, that I've lately won," " I 'in only ending — just where I begun" — ! They sneered — and gibed, me— for my dastard feeling, " no more tempting of dame fortune's dealing" ! From that day forward — until this day now, I 've never looked on Fortune's chequered brow ! Have never played for more than half-a-tcrown, — Careless of witnessing either smile or frown ! XIV AUTOBIOGK MMIV Listen to this — ye gamblers in the hud ! Mark the temptation that has been withstood ! I claim some credit for determination, In thus resisting so great " temptation" ! Oh ! let me warn — if warning can but save, — One soul from courting an untimely grave! Let me but tell him — what he little knows, — When once a Gambler then— Farewell re- pose ! Farewell 1 the joys, and blessings of the world, From every comfort is the Gambler hurled! There is a feeling — prurient in itself — ( Apart from seeking an increase of pelf I) A • feeling' none but Gamblers can pourtray, That tempts - and drags them — on their downward way ! The Siren's voice — her meretricious air — Tempted her victims to their own despair ! Whether on Italy's or Sicilia's shore, — Her 'voice," once heard — they sank, to rise no more ! And what is this — but just the Gambler's fate? lie finds his error, but alas! Too Late! I OK Till, All I IIOK. And sinks, at length, — from loss of others' gains, - Becomes delirious, and — blows out his bruins ! ! Avoid a Gambler — as you would a " It ell" ! < )h ! " touch" nor—" taste,"— for— thus the Scrip- tures tell — " Whoe'er with pitch to dally was beguiled," " And left the filthy compound—" undefiled " ! ? This little episode on vice of gambling — May seem to so/tie, a vain — discursive — rambling ! That 'seeming' taunt, the Poet well can bear, 11' he but save one Gambler from the snare ! Emerged, at length, from " Alma Mater's" care, I trod the world, with feelings light as air — But, — as the younger of a noble scion— I had not much property t<> rely on, XVI AUTOBIOGKAPHY Must, therefore, seek an erudite profession, To give me something of the world's possession. The Church was mooted, but did not suit my bent, My voice against the ministry — " Non-content!" The Laic was next proposed — id est — the Bai — But, — after all, — my "destiny'''' was — War! Become a Soldier ! and without a care, I donned the scarlet with a martial air ! And bade the world defiance ! — Alas ! — how soon, did fancy's truthless mien, Disclose another — and a sterner — scene ! The God of war — triumphant o'er the land — Commanded those, enrolled within His band, To seek the hottest of the mortal fray, (Woe be to those, who dared to slink away !) I bowed obedience to my country's call, And went, where many a hero met his fall, — Returned intact — without a broken bone, — I wandered o'er the country, quite alone — On " leave of absence" — and on pleasure bent — I passed my time in comfort and — content — OF THE AUTHOR. X\U But all enjoyments reach their final end, As erring mortals to corruption tend — My " leave" expired — I joined my gallant corps,' And soon young " Richard was himself" once more ! But not " on velvet" as a tyro thinks, There's something ever " in my nostril stinks"! And what is that ? some readers might demand, s More than you fancy ! — Is the sole command V Of many a high-born noble of the land, J Under some vulgar — low-bred — ' martinet,* Of none account ? ! — who is it can forget The galling treatment that can never fail, To make subordinates of none avail ! ? The Wretched creature that commanded me, Seemed to delight in causing misery, To all those hapless victims, that were sent, To suffer such tyrannic government ! If this should meet the eye of some, now past Their climacteric, in life's stormy blast, I claim their voice that in our ripened youth, The facts narrated were the simple truth .' XVH1 AUTOBIOGH \IMIV Their honest evidence, that I don't exceed " One jot or tittle'' of the very deed. — T headed this — my narrative — with a motto — " Nothing extenuate" —so, now then, " voce sotto" Will, therefore, tell a plain unvarnished — story, However it may derogate from my glory ! My Commandant — a wily — clannish — Scot— (Resolved (for English) to make his corps too hot) Carried his system to the very worst. Until our stifled indignation burst! Let others tell their individual grief, For me — what follows, I demand belief 7- Ordered to the presence of the " wily Scot " (His name, Mac — something — but no matter what — !) I'd been out shooting, and had missed "parade" His countenance assumed a darkened shade, Made use of language that / could not stand, So told him plainly — " I ceased from his command'" ! He rang the bell — his Satrap soon appeared, The monarch smiled — his countenance upreared ! " Well, Sir! repeat the words you just have said.*' " I cannot Sir! *i has quite escaped my head!" OF THE AUTHOR. MX The great man's face assumed a livid hue, " What Sir! and am I thus to be cajoled by you'? I looked as meek as any sucking- child. Hut was not thus so easily beguiled ! He tried by threats — and then he tried a coax, But found himself — at length — the victim of a hoax! The Satrap gone — we now were left alone, The gallant Colonel took another tone, ! Extolled " the Service" with a solemn face — And then, said something HARD about " disgrace" ! My blood was up! — I could not help the action, — I rushed across — and whispered — " Satisfaction" ! The bell again! — with greater force than ever! — He that could catch me, had, indeed, been clever! I seized my horse — and once upon his back, I bade defiance to his venal pack ! I rode as hard, as heel and hoof could go, And fairly distanced my pursuing foe ! I sped my way — scarce knowing where I went — And stopt at the portal of Supreme Government ! Sent in my card — was admitted in a trice, Told my plain story, and received — advice! NX AUT0B1OGR \P11V (Ignorant of my particular pathology) To go, and make a — base apology ! I told his Lordship that it could not !><■ .' In fact, that — 1 determined to be free ! — He hum'd and ha'd — then told me to sit down, And valued my Commission at — half-a-erown ! But soon the Man — in native accents mild — (I should have said he knew me from a child) Bade me be quick — and write my resignation — This done — he quickly wrote his " approbation" " With power to sell" — its ink was scarcely dry, When who should arrive — but — mine indignant enemy ? ! Requested audience — and was ushered in, — I scanned, and gave him, a sardonic grin ! He told his tale — as I had told before, — But left out something he would fain ignore! The gallant Colonel look'd "carving-knives" at me, And then proceeded with his history— " I beg to question you — most noble Lord," — " lias this young officer told every word," OF THE AUTHOR. XXI " That passeil between us, on a late occasion," '• Without the slightest — any — deviation"? " How can I tell" — the noble Lord replied — " He told me "something" that I wish to hide" ! " And ended — with a simple — plain desire," " That I would allow him to retire" — " And — (having bought) — dispose of his Commis- sion " " To which I tendered him ray full permission" " Seeing — -from what he told me — that 'twas vain " " To hope his Colonel's favor to regain ! " The Colonel's face then turned as black as thunder, Pourtraying — disappointment — rage, and wonder ! Talked of court-martials — and of " close arrest" Ending — obsequiously — " but my Lord knows best"!— His Lordship then — to finish the debate — " I fear me — Colonel — that you're now too late" ! " Had you but come just half-an-hour before" "Your wounded pride might not have felt so sore" ! " The power granted cannot be retracted" " However ill your Subaltern has acted"! XX11 AUTOBIOGRAPHY The disconcerted Colonel then retired— His darkened countenance with malice fired ! I caught him at the gate, — repeated what In one short hour, he could not have forgot '. He turned an ear, as deaf as any post, — And showed a countenance white as any ghost ! 1 met my noble friend a few days after, His placid countenance convulsed with laughter ! All this occurred in India's torrid clinic. (Tt is so difficult to find a rhyme!) I sold my ' bit of parchment' at Calcutta, And then was left with — scarcely /tread and butter! Hut, be it known — I never meant to stay, J ust to be shot at for my paltry pay ! I 've other little episodes to tell, But, then, they would not shine in poetry so well ! Such as my marriage — while a thoughtless boy. With little scions — bringing — any tiling hut joy ! By treading closely 'pon their father's heel, Achilles — like — 'tis there he 'feels the steeV ! Where is the boy, whoever yet was wed. And took a partner to the marriage bed. OF THE AUTHOR. XX111 But wedded one who might have been his mother.' And then the son be taken for his brother ! ? ■ Well! — to proceed— I sojourned in the East, (Its baleful climate good for man nor beast) When health, and funds, were both alike, at fault, I could no longer, with discretion, halt. So — took my passage, to get home again— For months, I wandered o'er the trackless main, Until, at length, bright Albion's chalky shore, Welcomed the wand'rer to her arms once more ! But not to riches — or e'en —competence / I counted shillings — aye! — and counted pence / My wretched poverty was most intense, ! I knock'd at the portal of my father's house, — My trembling summons, meek as any mouse, — Sent in my name — requested to be seen, My honor'd Parent stands behind the screen, f And whispers something that I could not hear, The tone conveyed was pregnant with a fear, ! The pampered menial soon again appears, And told me what still tingles in mg ears ! Said that " his honor" would not see my face, In fact — to hold myself in dire disgrace! I XXIV AUTOBIOGR \V\l\ No prayers— entreaties - could :it all avail, His heart was obdurate as an iron nail ! Far be the thought ! (scant justice must be done) To cast all blame upon my sire alone ! Still must the verdict somewhat harsh appear, " Starvation on — One Hundred Pounds a- year" ! My Father rolling in abundant wealth, Wanting for nothing but that blessing — health ! The lack of which — or else some other cause, Hardened — and steeled him against nature's laws ! Behold me sent — to struggle on with life, — On such a pittance — with a sickly wife! Pent in a cottage, with a single room, Myself compeWd to wield the siveeping-broom ! To act the carter, for a load of peat ! To keep us warm— and cook our scanty meat ! Still — like a blood-horse, in a huxter's cart — I never swerved, and yet I felt the smart ! In this sad plight, I spent some years of time, In economic Scotia's classic clime — And when, at length, events compell'd a change. From our poor cottage, to a wider range, OF THE AUTHOR. XXV T left the neighbourhood —in honor held — Received the "Freedom" of an ancient 'Guild'! — I Prize that document, as a treasure yet, The Pride it caused I never can forget ! A poor — but well-born - stranger, settled down, Upon the confines of an ancient town, With income — scarce enough to let him live, — Receives all honors that the " Guild" could give ! — Let those that will, decry fair Scotia's land, From me, respect alone, may she command ! — I, since, have travelled both her breadth, and length, The grateful feeling has but gathered strength—! I '11 cut my story short as I can make it, / cannot tell what made me undertake it ! A "leisure hour" to spare, from time to time, Or else a " cacoetkes" tuste for rhyme ! I dare not call it Poetry — because You '11 find infractions of poetic laws — ! a XXVI AUTOBIOGRAPHY And yet we scribblers have a text to cheer ns- " Aliquando bonus Dor mit at Homeri s"! Proceed we then, with this, my simple tale, In which one element — can alone avail — And that is Truth ! — however it may tend. To raise suspicions of the Poets curl .' And who art thou, that judgest of thy brother?! Art thou in office, to condemn another? ! Look to thyself— examine well thy ways, — Art thou an object of thy Maker's praise ? ! Answer this question, to thy very heart, — ! Say but that -in them — ' Self' has had no part ! Be silent then ! attend to what 's thine own. And leave thv brother to himself alone ! There i< a party- rampant in the land — Call it an't please you — " Th' Evangelic Band" — OF III I : \r niOR. XX\ II There — should a brother tail — however little — To hold their tenets, by "one jot or tittle"— The hapless recusant is at once consigned, To " Comminations" horrors — all combined ! And then, — the Roman Catholic — Maynooth and all — Is it a wrong — or an unrighteous call, — That seven millions should demand a meed, To rear their Priests, in their own honest creed? ! In Jinn belief, that all, without her pale, By prayer — or charity — can have naught avail ? ! After all, — the Church, — called " Anglican," — is a sect, Dissenting from the Romanists ! — why not protect. Your " Nursing mother" -and whom all agree, To be the parent of your ancestry ! ? Yet,— but another word, before we part, — Is not Religion in a man's own heart? .' The object plain — his individual soul ! ! Who dares to place it under aught control ? ! I hold Religion as a sacred feeling — In which another can have no just dealing ! XXV1I1 AUTOBIOGRAPHY All interference but amounts to this — You say " follow wine" — and then, are bid, to — "follow" his! Which is in right, and which is in the wrong? ! — He holds his tenets in con fiction strong — You may deplore, but can't impugn his right, To hold those ' tenets' 'gainst his Ruler's might ! And then — as subjects — do they not deserve, Assistance from the government they serve ? ! And serve her xoell — in England's urgent hour, — - To swell her forces — and support her power; Again ! — remember ! that her Church was plun- dered, (The date was eighty-eight, and sixteen hundred,) Of all the revenues, that were tier's alone, By the brute power of a reckless throne !— Let Statesmen — aye ! — let Englishmen beware ! Lest they should LOSE what England ill could spare ! Let not the Reader, by these lines, suppose The humble Poe1 to be one of those. OF I'll I : AUTHOR. xxix \\ ho hold the tenets of the Roman creed, From which he differs, and recoils indeed ! He writes, alone, to serve his country's good, The mass of numbers can never ise with- stood ! Apologising for this long — and vague — digression, (At utter variance with my late profession) I '11 tell my tale -concisely as 1 can, Adopting closely the laconic plan — Some years elapsed — not fraught with much to tell — I wandered o'er the world, and fared full well ; — The "Iron Duke" then took me by the hand, Gave me the post, o'er which he held command, — Was "passing rich" — possessing something clear, Beyond the ' Parson's' " forty pounds a-year"! AW U I OBlOGK APIIY And then, at length — the time now long since past) My honor'd parent sank. — and breathed his last,! And left me some £***»- thousand pounds of rent. Which, — as the younger, — inside me quite content. Possessed — at last — of tolerable funds, I went to France — and — kept a pack of hounds I Hunted the boar the stag — and spent my time, How much more pleasantly^ than penning rhyme ' But every pleasure must attain its term, As flowers tend to perish from the germ !— ■ The riots in the country brought me back, Compell'd — per force — to leave my gallant pack. And act the Magistrate in my native land. To check the mischief of a lawless band, That wander'd through the country right and left— ( lommitting murder — rapine, — plunder— theft! The 'band' dispersed— I sojourned for a while In the old halls of my Fathers' domicile. Again from causes, not to be revealed I roamed once more, and fairly "took thr field"! OF THE AUTHOR. XXXI If hut a nameless witness such as uie. Can aught avail to bear his testimony Avoid America! — no people 'pon the earth, (Whatever this — my ( testimony' is worth) Are so detestable! — This may strange appear — ! Just let an Englishman sojourn there oneyear! — Return — and tell his own unvarnish'd story — ■ 'Twill ill redound to "fair Columbia's" glory ! .' I 've travell'd North — South— East, and West— But oh ! my native land ! I love thee best !- As for the " Yankees" — a more hateful set, Upon this earth, I never yet have met ! If but a Briton dares confess his race, Insult is cast upon his very fare ! On one occasion — in a Northern State, — In conversation, I ventured a debate, — ! The " Man of Congress" held his head on high, So " guess'd" and "calculated" accordingly ! Something ivas said about the " Mother Land," And that his country held supreme command NXX1I u TOBIOGRAPHY Over that clement that, none but we, Can ever claim so great authority ! — Talked of the "Chesapeake," and the " Shannon" too — His classic answer- -*" Pray, what's that to you"?! (Doubtless — in speaking—" Jonathan's" uncouth, By why the nose — and not employ the mouth f ! ) As for the sequel — I would fain conceal The degradation that I made him feel ! I met him once again —still further South, — The wretch decamp'd, and — " open'd not his mouth !" All these events have long since pass'd away, To me, they seem but just "the other day !" I still have much to tell of all I saw. But oh ! — Those Legislators of Yankee Law ! ! What would ;i member of our senate think. Of vulgar ruffians, in tobacco stink — Spitting- and chewing, that detested leaf? ! The scene presented was beyond belief// * A literal fact ! OF THE AUTHOR. XXXIM The facts I witnessed happen'd long ago — So let us hope it may not still be so ! But e're we leave this most wra-classic ground. Let me record the wonder that is found In that one Great Phenomenon ! — that defies The world to show the least approach — in size- — To Grand Niagara ! f To give the slightest notion of the fact, Of that enormous — that stupendous — cataract, Let not the reader's ignorance suppose, (Whether in Poetry— or in duller Prose — ) That 'Prose' — or even ' Poetry'— can avail, — To paint a scene, where all descriptions fail ! ! Those that would wish from all disguise to free it, Just take advice — " Pack up, and go and see it" ! Again I cross'd the Broad Atlantic Ocean — Retraced my steps— but not without emotion — Events had happen'd, that well-nigh broke my heart ! The pangs inflicted ne'er can cease to smart ! \XXl\ AUTOBIOGRAPHY I roamed again — in something like despair — In hopes, excitement my spirits would repair! For ease of mind, I had but slender warrant !" "Coelum — non animum . . . qui trans mare currunt !" So Horace sang — some thousand years ago — Who can assert that still it is not so ? ! Ireland, and Scotland, Wales, and England too,\ In turn, I passed those countries in review, Then, went to France, to seek for something new ! / But all in vain! — I sought the world around, For the one blessing — that's so seldom found ! At length— EupijKa ! Yes ! I've " found it out" ! But found what Time has been too long about! The Span of Life " can little more supply" " Than just to look about us — and, to die !'" And yet the dregs of life are oft the sweetest — When future Hope— and pleasure are completest ! And oh ! — the blessings that I now possess, In that, where centres all my happiness! Still "Hope deferred*' is apt to " sicken'" those, Who look for its fruition in repose '. OF I III". U TIIOK. XXXV Mv Tale is told! — we all must wait to see, What still remains in dark futurity ! Some hundred line? now past — in this "my Life," I spoke of " suff 'ring from unworthy strife,'' I did so then — ' Tis gone /—so who can say, Or calculate the issues of a single day ? ! All this may seem a mystery those, Whose optics cannot reach beyond their nose ! And still, the scenes depicted are as true, As that many passages are withheld from YOU / I think I hear Curiosity exclaim — " Who may this be ? and what can be his name?"! His "name" dear Madam ! — you'll not get from me, Oh ! yes ! I'll tell you !— his name is " Mystery!" He writes in secret — fires behind a hedge— And keeps anonymous— on his Printer's pledge! " Amphora coepit" " tnstitui— currente rota, cur urceus exit" ? .' I Iorace. MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. By J. C. OMITTED BY THE PRIMER IN THE ORIGINAL MS. To be inserted between the 6th and 1th I hies of ' the Poem on "Self. This seems a Paradox to some, But let them take the subject Home, And ask themselves, — in simple Truths — Whether, — till now, — from early youth, They've never felt a lingering doubt, In any scheme they've thought about, Of certain contemplated deeds, That raised the question — " Whence proceeds " The motive for this act of mine ; " Is it un-Sel/ish, — Pure, — Divine, — " Or — am I guided on my way, ' By something that I dare not my /" "SEL F." 'Tv«'J0*I -'» >t6v,"— Sol ON If one of Athens' seven Sages Could pen the precept here above, That stands the test of after ages, What more is wanted ? what to prove- That man above — the beast below— Has nothing but bare "self" to show '! " V'erum illud est. vulgo, quod dii '• Omnes sibi malle melius quam alteri." How much mistaken, — much abused,— Is that one word so often m Do all that use it clearly see That word involved in mystery?! 'Tis sad to think, that all we do, Has "self" and "self" alone in view ! Let us dissect — and let us find — The hidden secrets ihere combined : And then (sad thought !) the world at large, Is not acquitted of the charge ! The Priest, — the Statesman, — Christian, — Poet,— (Whate'er the pain to let them know it) Are all alike involved in " self," Some for ambition — some for pelf ! I would, — for human nature's sake, — That it were otherwise ! But take The Priest — is he so full at ease? (Or call it by what name you please) Is he so pure — unselfish — good — That, if he wins one soul to God — Is he so free from selfish views, As ? No matter!— Why the 'Priest' abuse?! The very soul he saves from death, (Or fancies) at its latest breath, Has he no selfish pleasure there ? Or, are his motives pure as air ? ! Again,— when deckVl in priestly trim, — Giving the bread the wine — in him View the "self" comfort honest zeal — With which be hopes from death to steal One soul to life ! Has he no joy - In pure disinterest no alloy?! The Statesman, next in order, see ! Is he I'rom selfishness so free, As not to dream of £ s. d. ? ! But granted, that his stores of wld Are overflowing, — wealth untold, — And that his country's weal alone, Impelled him to support the Throne ! Give him his fullest meed, and say — " Crown him with laurel, — ivy, — bay" ! But ask him, — in his inmost soul, — Has not ambition some control O'er all his efforts to transcend His Peers — Competitors — his Friend ? What is ambition but a test Of all — in life,— his soul loves best ? ! He gains the summit of the tree, And cries, triumphantly, " Look at me" ! ! B 2 He dreams of marble — breathless stone- To tell posterity how he shone ! Is there no self in all his aim ? 'A man's a man' — we're all the same ! The Christian comes the next in view . What can I have to say to you ? .' How littie irot i/o, that thy creed, Is utter selfishness indeed ! You start ! No wonder ! But attend ! What is thine object? What thine end? Is it not " self" — and " self " alone — Impels thee to the Mercy throne, ? To plead for pardon for thy sin, In outward acts, — and thoughts within. That, at thy last — thy latest — breath. Thy soul be saved eternal death ? ! Your very Charities imply A love of " selfr You ask me " why " ? The kindest act that man can do Points number ONE, then number TWO ! I know the sweetest, dearest face ; Her sphere of goodness. L — n place, She gives her time, — her health,— her store To ground the brats in worldly lore ; And then, — like Dorcas, — as of old, — She makes them " coats" to check the cold ! The body warmed, — she tends the soul, And points her finger to the goal, Where all their sorrows — all their Grief — Is sure to find a blest relief ! She clothes — and feeds — the parent,— child - Imparts her gifts with accents mild, — Sheds lustre round the path she treads. And comfort o'er their squalid beds ! In all her kindness — all her zeal — Is she not selfish ? does she feel No gentle sense — no sweet delight- In all her efforts to do riffhl ? I would, I could, the Poet spare ! But see! what selfishness is there! 6 I pen these lines — and what their end ? To please myself — and pain, my friend ! The friend I love— of all the rest — The purest — kindest— dearest —best — And yet, I say — on selfish laws, She acts — and feels a "self-applause ! Grant that a Poet may be pure, Writes not for lucre — can endure The world's cold contumely — but mind ! He wants to leave a name behind! (All very pleasant to the Dead? But will it give the living bread ?) ! Still it is "SELF"— and "self" it is That guides him to his fancied bliss ! The Poet still shall be my theme, Howe'er wrcsclfish as to fame! My " theme" myself — what's that to me, So long as I can truthful be ? I lash my-" self"— I lash my friend, To shew that " self'' is all our end ! I low seldom do we learn the //•///// In ripened age or early youth ? Be mine the task — tho' small the pleasure- To shew the world its " form and pressure." ! The Poet! — we must cut him short! lie can't appear in "open court I" Who then ? because 't would take a ream. To tell my readers all I dream,— I'll take tlie Surgeon and Physician, (I've written down the Politician), And shew them that 'twere hard to see, Which of the two had mastery ! In fair precedence comes the second, The " Head of his profession" reckoned, But, after all — pray, why not club The two— whom all " the Doctor" dub ? They work together- hand in hand — The Jirst obeys his lord's command; What matter if the patient dies ? " He died ! — he would— his no surprise !" " Think of the trouble we have had !" "And now he leaves us! Tis TOO bad !' Then comes the trip to Kensal Green .' i No bad in nst went there —I ween) I Wen; ever two such mart\ rs seen?! J With hat-band scarf— and eke the gloves, The sable train, in sadness, moves. The conversation thus begins " Doubtless the parson shrived the sins" " Of our most dear, departed friend," ki But what is that to us? his end" ■• Was fast approaching— but yet if" " 5Tou had not made that draught so stiff" "' I do believe it to be true.'" "• I might have had a fee or two!" The second — loquitur — to ask, "• Why moot this point? a bootless task !" '• Besides. I entertain the notion," " That you administered a strong /to/ion.'" •' Bui neither could intend to kill /" " Have you, by accident, seen the WILL?" And thus, in converse,- time to cheat, — They place him in his last retreat ! And then — oh! then— from that same hour, His meni'rv dwindled like a Mower! But, after all, these men of pills, That tend the sick, to cure their ills, Are guided by the " self-same power, That rules us all at every hour ! The Lawyers next must show their face, ("Precedence" 1 warns me — out of place), But what of that? when now they find I have not left them quite behind ! ? Tell me, Sir Pundit, are you suit, That all your acts {unselfish, pure) Are such as could well stand the " trial" Of honesty, and .s*7f-denial ? ! A suit in court — a legal fight — (No matter which is wrong or right,) You, haply, may defend a thief, Or hold, from " Strachan and Paul," a brief! You do your best, — exert your art, — To make " the worse the better part ! Say — what but " self" that makes you try To do the world an injury ? ! 10 The judge sums up — your client hangs— You cannot keep him from the tangs Of outraged justice ; but suppose He 'scapes the rope, — who fancies those Wlio rescued him, a whit more free „ // From utter selfishness than ho Who risked his neck, to gain his end, By basely ruining his friend ? ! In either case you work for " self" If not ambitiously — for pelf! How sad to think that all we do. Has but " Iixvtov" (self) in view ! There's not a soul that e'er had birth.— There 's not a brute upon the earth, — That did not — does not — feel, the force Of "self" in all their live-long course ! No ! no! depend upon it — all That breathe, are servants to the call Of " self" in every grade of life ! The lover — mistress husband— wife ! 11 I love my wife — 1 love my child,— But do not fancy me beguiled Into the false, complacent notion, But that it comes from " self* '-emotion \ Still, let me not mistaken be, Or question my " Philanthropy." Between " .sv/f "-love, there is a line, And selfishness, however fine — This comes from Satan — that Divine! 'Twould take a Locke — who wrote so well On human mysteries — to tell The very "line" where they begin, This is a virtue, that a sin ! "Twould take a better pen than mine, The broad distinction to define, For " broad" the " line" that thus divides, "Where sin, or virtue, there resides ! Had I but Byron's graphic fire, Or any other Poefs lyre, I could a tale of truth unfold, In verse — not prose — that ne'er was told ! Yes ! my " besetting sin" is ' verse? Which, if not classical, is terse! L2 I St //-compliment I scarce may rest on, The critic, then, may "raise the question.") And something shorter said than those, Who write prosaically in prose ! I "m not acquainted with "the Nine" ("The Tuneful") sprung from source Divine, Nor tasted of Castalia's tide, Where Music — Poesy — reside ! So read these lines, as they are meant. To show created nature's bent; And do not carp at every fault, Wherein the Poet seems to halt, But "read — mark — learn," its obvious text — 1 '11 take more trouble with my next! — And, haply, may say something more, Mankind has seldom heard before ! THE FORCE OF CIRCUMSTANCES." " Homo sum, — Humani nihil a me alienum puto." — Terence. Grant me, ye Gods, the graphic power to show. The " Force of Circumstances" here below ! Teach me to wield this unaccustomed pen, To show the world it's " pressure," — and that men Are guided more to each " besetting sin," By outward " circumstance" than vice within ! Here is a sphere for moralists— not me, — To show my fellow-sinners the degree, Of guilt involved in every act and deed ; " These are from virtue — those from vice proceed !" Doubtless the Scriptures tell us — in plain terms, — That " man is prone to evil " that the germs Of damning sin, in every heart reside. Lust, and detraction— rapine— murder — pride ! 16 All these are dormant in the human breast, T would take a catalogue to tell the rest! But while we. thus, acknowledge the defects 3 Of human nature in sin's dire effects, — Oh! let us not — like misanthropes — deer//. The teeming virtues that in manhood lie ! And yet — these sins and "virtues" are the grow th, Of opportunity — " circumstances''' — both ! You doubt this truth!? Then, take a spade in hand, Dig fathoms deep — and now throw up the sand. Guard well the soil — (with glass, or what you please) And then expose it to the vernal breeze! See the vile trials that rankle in tin- sun ! Which — but for YOU — they never might have done! Is it so strange, — with this bare fact in view — That human nature should he pregnant too. With every germ of wickedness and sin?! Let them lie ' dormant? — they would die within I But, brought to light, by some mysterious cause, They Bproul and flourish— obedient to the laws Of nature — whose, unbending — stern, — behest — By man. nor beast, can ever be suppresi ! 17 Let those that doubt this self-convincing truth, Recal the mem'ries of their early youth, Which — if not treacherous — can hardly lack To bring some sad recollections back, Of follies — vices — sins — or what you will — Which, — left untempted, — might be 'dormant' still ! The greatest sinners that were ever born — The highest virtues that mankind adorn — Are, all alike, the puppets of the law — A '■fate — that guides — disposes — and ' Foresaw" 1 — The various acts — for censure, or for praise, — Which man commits in all his devious ways ! A theft — manslaughter — or an act of strife. Involves the culprit, for his term of life, In penal servitude — a living death ! He pines — invokes — implores— his dying breath ! Trace the poor sinner from his cradle — where The 'force of circumstance' first wove the snare ! From step to step — (his parents, haply dead, And he left, helpless, on an orphan bed !) c 18 Thrown on the world, he creeps his downward course, From vice to vice — a stranger to remorse ! His vile associates — and his dastard train — Cheer him on acts — of which they share the gain ; Too craven, they, to risk their precious self, Avoid the danger — but partake the pelf ! In nature — noble — disposition — kind, — He leaves these ' dormant" 1 attributes behind ! Now past the Rubicon ! — he hides his face, And wa«;es battle on the human race ! 'Till doomed, at length, by destiny to fall, He dies !— a felon — the reproach of all ! Change we the scene! — and let us view 7 the child, — (By ' Force of circumstance,' with guilt defiled) View the same 'child' — witli fond endearment prest — Reclining softly 'pon his mother's breast, His father, — doating on his "darling boy," — ■ Shelters and saves him — from the world's alloy ! 19 He grows to manhood- -from temptation free, — And shows — in manhood — what a man should be! Contrast the two ! The one — by fate decreed — To fall — and suffer, for some damning deed, Evoked — by ' force of circumstance' — to sin, Despite the virtues that lay hid within ! The other lapped — in comfortable ease — Free from temptation — mounts, by slow degrees — To honor — -competence— distinction — power — Until — at length— at death's relentless hour, — He yields his breath— obedient to the call — And dies regretted — as beloved — by all ! ' Contrast the two !' — let " circumstance" appear ! Does 'force of circumstance' not riot here ? ! Are both alike responsible to Him ! The pliant puppets of their fortune's ichim? ! Nor Locke — nor Abercrombie* — could define — " This is TH Y guilt— and this— of virtue — THINE !" Let those that rest on soft and balmy down, Cast not on sin, that harsh— condemning frown, * Abercrombie " On the Moral Feelings." C 2 20 \\ hich — but for 'force of circumstance' might lead That self-same 'frown' upon the fr owner's head ! Who was it wrote that " Yiee — of hideous mien," " Which to be hated — needs but to be seen ?" " But seen too oft — familiar with her lace" " We first endure — then pity — then embrace" ! ? He mighth&ve asked — with equal— earnest— truth— " Where the spectator, in his early youth ! /"' Was it not " force of circumstance" that shed Its baleful influence o'er the Seer's head? And led him on, — from infancy to man, — The vicious victim of some hidden plan. That scattered round his path the luring bait. To tempt — and drag — him to his downward fate ? ! Hail, gentle charity! — how rare we find. Thy saint-like virtues in the human mind ! Too prone the mass to judge their fellow-men, By the false standard of the world — and then, Consign the wretched victim of a Cause, To the stern vengeance of his country's laws ! 21 t What reck " the mass*' to ascertain the truth, How ' force of circumstance' beset his youth ? And quenched his 'moral feelings' in the "slough Of deep " despond " to sink — he knetv not how ! ? Take, next, the scions of a noble tree — Cradled in down — and lapped in luxury ! — The first-born claims his old ancestral halls — Regardless — careless — of his brothers' calls : — His noble father gathered to " the Tomb" " Of all the Capulets," — and yet for whom, He cares much less than e'en the meanest serf, Whose fathers moulder under yonder turf! Cast on the world ! these sons of high degree, — Impelled — per " force" — to seek their destiny ! — With the small pittance, that a mother's care Endows her " boys," to keep them from despair ! But just enough to save them from the need Of abject poverty !— How bitter to proceed, To the sad sequel of their destined fate ! Betrayed abandoned penitent -too late - 22 ' Too late ' — to save their station in the world, From which — by ' force of circumstances' — hurled, Their very blood now curdles in their veins ! Too proud— for aid — to tax their brother's gains, Which primogeniture, by law decreed, To be his riches— and — his brothers' need ! Here is the point at which the Poet halts, To guage the moral turpitude of faults. Of those compelled, by ' circumstance ,' to trend The path that leads them to a pauper's bed ! Beset with poverty ! Patrician blood ! Stagnates in contact with a meaner flood ! Now draw the veil ! The Poet stands aghast ! How paint these wretched victims at the last?! Oh! let not Moralists stand coldly by, And tauut the Poet with a seeming LIE The very facts narrated — are the truth — He kneic them well, in their — the writer's — youth! Two nobler scions of a nobler stock Were never born ! — Unequal to the shock Of adverse 'circumstance' — they downward fell, And vanished from the sphere they graced so well ! 23 Some rigid Puritan might haply say — " Who was to blame for all this sad display" " Of talents wasted — of such reckless course" " The certain harbingers of a vain remorse ? !" Just let that self-complacent saint be placed, (Where all his movements could he fairly traced) Place him where those sad " two" were placed before, Would he not act the same as they of yore ? ! " Odi profanum valgus !" old Horace said — How many centuries has he been dead ? ! And now — one thousand — eight, and — fifty-six — Are ice still guided by the priestly tricks, That whilom ruled the world — and even now, — Place man in thraldom — but he knows not how ! Well ! let that pass ! The Priest may blame the writer, The Poet, — still, — may be the harder ' biter' ! And show the Priest that Priestcraft is a trade, For which — perchance — the man was never made! Or ' made' by ' force of circumstance' to fill A place — whose duties he performed so ill ' 24 A well-known noble — and of good report, — Has many sons, who claim their sires support — He " cuts and carves" their ' destinies' in life — For .John — the forum- — Charles — a wealthy wife Robert- — a soldier — lives at home, in ease, The next — a sailor — navigates the seas Now George remains — a lad of doubtful thrift! ( There 's a fat living in his father's gift ! ) He goes to college — has a private " coach" Keeps his set ' terms' — but not without reproach ! Until by dint of more, or less, " reproaching" — Some college favors — and some private ' coach- ing,'— lie blooms at length — (the 'parson' lately dead) — With Parish honors on his " Reverend" head ! ! Is it not thus that wolves 'protect* the sheep? ! And .scatter folds that they were sworn to keep ? ! Is it not ' tints' that " circumstance" attends. To drag her victims to her specious ends? ! Where is the man — -the woman — or the child— Whom " force of circumstance" has not beguiled, 25 Into some course that led their after-life To blessings — honors — or — to sin and strife ? ! What solid 'comfort' would mankind possess — How would the ' many sons' the father bless — If left unfettered in their nature's bent — And not — by " force of circumstances" sent, To tread the path their " nature" never meant ! Let us discuss another case — wherein, The " force of circumstance" first led to sin ! — A young and lovely girl is sent to school — To learn "accomplishments" and — play the fool ! ! German — Italian — French — and every art, — In which the woman has to " play her part !" Oh ! 'tis not thus that daughters can be led — In virgin pureness, to the marriage bed ! Let those that make a trade of female lore, Confess — with shame — the facts they knew before ! How one was tempted o'er the garden wall — Into those arms that made not SAVED — her fall! 26 How others stole — in silent — dead of night — Despite the trembling of their girlish fright — To talk on subjects that were " not allowed" But boldly canvassed in the school-room croivd ! Has not the Poet felt — in inmost soul — The bitter sequence ! — noic beyond control ? ! Send hoys to school! — for classics — manly pride — - But GIRLS!! — -Oh! keep them by their mothers' 1 side ! ! A score of pages would not serve to tell, The sad results that parents know too well ! The prurient feelings of the purest maid, Arc trilling victims to that fruitful trade, Which fosters elements that lie within, — T< > sprout, and germinate, in active sin ! " Young Ladies' Seminaries"! — (an awkward word ! ) But say — the best of which one ever heard ! — Religion — morals — all that would appear, To fit the pupils for their after sphere ! The lady— Principal — of blameless lite lias had some troubles in her worldly strife. 27 That fit her " eminently" for charge of those Whose parents fancy they may well repose Their simple confidence ! — in care of whom, She holds the guidance of their after-doom ! ! What is a " seminary" — but a field to grow, The seeds that innocence should never know f ! Not even when she enters into life, To charm her husband, as his wedded wife ! — " Domus et placens uxor" ! How many a man, And woman too — now lives to rue the plan Of sending daughters from their * mothers' side,' — To foster " dormant' 1 ' 1 wickedness and pride, Into that worst of hotbeds — which pretends, To lead its pupils but to virtues ends ! ! Can " force of circumstance " much further go? ! When all these facts unquestionably show The sad results attendant upon those, Who trace their after-miseries and woes, To that mistaken — {Imply well-meant) — scheme/ The victims waken — from a ghastly dream — To find, too late, that all their after course, Is hopeless wretchedness ! — a vain remorse ! ! 28 The lowesl grade that woman o'er attained, — The worst pre-eminence she ever gained — And every female element effaced — May still to ' force of circumstance' be traced ! The wretched creature that infests the streets, Should draw compassion from all those she meets! — If, — on that countenance, — you clearly trace The beauties, sin, nor sorrow, could efface, Oh ! pass not by, with that contemptuous sneer, But pause and meditate ! — then — shed a tear ! Yes ! drop a ' tear' that all her prospects fell, Before that Monster whom she " loved too well," Who lured, and tempted, her to be his Bride, With arts, that false sincerity can hide ; ! Then — warmed by passion — in an evil hour — She bent before it and lie pluck'dthe flower! The flower pluck'd -he threw the stem away To rot, and fester, in its own deca\ ! Is this not " force of circumstance" that shed Such wretched misery o'er her hapless bed? ! — The sequel needs qoI Poetry to paint The lot of one that might have been a saint 29 But for the fate that led her to depend, On him who ruined her — to gain his end ! Still must the Poet painfully pourtray — The downward steps of her thus led astray ! Bereft of what was onee her honest pride, — She glided slowly down the venom'd tide. That washed all Virtue's feelings from her mind, And left her naught but recklessness behind ! Here must we stop ! — and veil the squalid room In which — too surely — she must meet her doom ! Bowed down by sickness — poverty — remorse — She lies — at length — a scorned — neglected corse ! The man that boldly meets the coming strife, And claims, at once, " Your money or your life? Is perfect innocence compared with him, Who stabs his victim for a carnal whim, And then abandons, to her hopeless ruin, The helpless creature of his own undoing! ! 30 Still must I drag the Reader to my theme ! And ask — " Is 'force of circumstance' a dream"?! What — but that element could thus displace The charms of innocence from that beauteous face, And print the stamp of wretchedness and woe, Which — but for him — might never have been so?! 'Tis well for those who float a-down the stream — Who look on life, as but a pleasant dream, — And whom Temptation never yet assailed, — To tread the path in which our victim failed ! 'Tis well for them, to turn their scornful eyes, And close their senses to the wretch's cries !— Unlike the "Good Samaritan" of yore, — Make light of burdens that they never bore ! Woman, alas ! — is woman's direst foe ! Let her but fail ! — 'tis there she feels the blow ! But why should this be? — when 'tis woman's pride, To range her energies upon woman's side ! 31 Yet — let but once — an " erring sister" stray — Whom " force of circumstance 1 ' has led away — Mark the contempt — the dark-averted eye, — With which — too scornfully — they pass her by ! And close all avenues to that only door, On which is written — " Go, and sin no more /" Still — to pursue my deep — unfathomed — theme, That hovers o'er the senses, like a dream ! A ' theme' — not wisely — chosen, as my text— That rules this nether being — and the next ! ! That casts its influence on all we see — Directing all, — in great — or small degree, — Imparting riches — honors — all that tends, To that on which our happiness depends ! — While others, forced by ' circumstance' — to drink The bitter cup of sorrow to the brink ! In spite of all their efforts to keep free, From rocks and quicksands — in this stormy sea, — They find their bark — still drifting on the shoal, — Spurning the rudder's weak and vain control ! 'Till dashed — at length — on Scylla's dreaded shore, They suffer shipwreck — and are seen no more ! 32 But should they fail to touch thai fearful Rock- Escaping, scarcely, from the horrid shock — Behold Charybdis ! — on the other side ! Engulphing all who venture on her tide ! ! What need of tropes and figures, as a proof, That those who wish for peace, must stand aloof From every art — from all temptation — free — If "force of circumstance " icon Id let it be .' f Need it be said that ' Scylla' gives the trope, Of all, — in life, — that is beyond a hope ? That Rock, on which, full many a victim dies, In hope of gaining a long wished-for prize ! And then — ' Charybdis' ! is ii hard to find, The vortex where all 'hope' is left behind — ? The whirlpool — where — all moral feeling past — The wretched victim is engulphed at lasl ! Drawn in by that resistless love of all, On which our frailties are so prone to fall ! That ( entripetal poiaer, whence few can ' hope' Escape, when, once, betrayed within its scope ' ! 33 A sheet of white — unsullied — paper gives The fittest type where virgin pureness lives And if — perchance — a drop of ink should fall — Upon that — yet untarnished -surface — all That man can do — to veil the seeming blot, Himself had caused — then let him share her lot, And write his mime on where he dropt the stain, The tarnished paper is restored again ! Or — if some pure — but rigid — passer by. Should close her eyes — and heave a sneering sigh, Let Iwr beware — when next those two may meet- She may not pass her in the public street ! The Poet's pen might flow as long as ink Was found — and lie had common sense to think ! But why prolong a subject on a theme, Which — but for reality — might be a dream ! ? A 'dream' that age — nor middle age — nor youth - But must acknowledge it to be the truth ! D 34 Let not the Critic bear too hard on him, Who writes for pleasure — or a fancy whim — He may — perchance — unwittingly — ii'ive pain. But shrinks from looking to hi> pen for gain ! Could he but write, in prose — as well as verse, - ( Critics may well deny that these are terse) How many pages could the writer trace. Tn proof of all his Thesis would embrace, That each. — and every — grade, on earth, relies On all that "force of circumstance" supplies ! Let not the Reader cast these lines aside. A> fancied offsprings of poetic pride ! But let him read.— and think,— the subject o'er, The Poet asks for— and can claim— no more ! THOUGHTS Suggested to the Writer on his endeavouring to reconcile some Texts of Scripture with others. See the Preface. Non cuivis liomin contingit adire Corinthum." — Horace. This world of trial ! — this heritage of woe ! Why was it made ? — why constituted so ? / never asked my being— never for my birth — Why then encumber me with wretched earth? Was it that God his vengeance wished to wreak On babes and sucklings, ere they learned to speak? " Predestined'''' they, this bitter course to run — To live — to suffer — and to be undone! Far be the thought I ! Religion has her sway ! — And teaches man " unceasingly to pray !" To "pray" for ichat? for something freely given? For manna scattered by the hand of Heaven ? Look to the Bible ! Churchmen ! tell the Truth ! Was / not Blest— or " Filled" from my youth .' f 38 From countless ages, hid from mortal ken — \\ as not my destiny determined then?! " JForeknozoledge" here -" Predestination there! "\\ as Human Reason ulven as a snare? ! Why to be told the "narrow path*' to tread? — The Scriptures say that "all who run may read." And yet — in characters unfurled to sight, — The wretch " Predestined" never can go right ! Say ! — -Is there anything that / can do, To change my Fate and make that Booh untrue? ! ^\ 1 1 < > that has lived could alter its behesl ? He writhed, and suffered — and is Curst or Blest/ — Such the Decree — and such the 'scapeless lot— Of all that live, and — dying — are forgot!! The Passions — planted in the Human breast — Find shelter there — but not at our request! The madman — moping in his wretched cell — Is he foredoomed to taste the curse of Hell?! Why should the man, with strong commanding sense, His brother meet with scarce a competence?! Why should the one be "elected" from on High, The other doomed self-helplessly to die? 39 Arc nil alike responsible to God — The man of genius— and the senseless clod? [s this the way those attributes to prove, Of justice — mercy — never-failing Ion ? Let Sophists tench — let Casuists declaim— Look to the text ! — infallibly the same ! These are sad truths — unfit for us to scan — Who shall instruct us in the Omniscient plan ? " The Bible" says the priest — " search well through that" Have I not " searched" it — and discovered — what? ! Just this — in spite of all that man can try — - His Doom is fixed from all Eternity ! Where can we turn to find some solid ground On which to rest?— in vain we look around! Deluded man ! — let this conviction be — Our "Doom" depends not upon you nor me! Judas Iscariot — who betrayed the Christ, Had he the power to thwart the plan devised?! Had he the power to change the mighty " Plan," Fixed — from Eternity — to govern Man V ! 40 What then can " Sophist-* wlmt can " Casuists" saj . But that his breath was given to betray?! Strirc as he would — and let him do his best — lie must be Cursed — lie nerer could lie Blest! ! All that we know of Judas — is to tell That he " repented him"— and that Hell Had more attractions for him than remorse — So " went and hanged himself!" Think not, ray Reader, that I thus impugn The Great Creator of the Sun and Moon — This glorious orb — the Firmament of Stars — The God of Peace!— yet eke the God of Wars ! The " God of Battles" — in which myriads bled, In deeper dye, than ever since was shed ! From pregnant women ! from the suckling child ! Survivors cursing — with a madness wild. The 'scapeless Edict issued from on High That doomed their helpless innocents to die!! What right the " clay" the " potter" to upbraid That from his plastic substance should be made, One "vessel" here, consigned to hopeless wrath, Its brother, there — saved from eternal death ? ! 41 Is it that " Faith" and " Works" are so combined, As to leave nothing for the Unman Mind?! " Faith, without Harks," is nothing- we are taught, Works, without Faith,— the Scriptures tell us — " naught" Look then around ! examine well your heart — This is the " Gift" from which you cannot part! Your kind affection — purest, holiest, deed — Is not your own! yet — you receive the meed Of praise from Man — however justly given — For Virtues lavished by the hand of Heaven ! — Your prayers - your vigils—" every perfect gift, Doth come from God !" Say — that, of that bereft, Would you, or could you, tread the " Narrow Path" That leads to Bliss?— 'scaping Eternal wrath. Reserved for him who fain would save his soul, But for that " Edict" that defies control? ! 'Tis folly — worse — 'tis madness to suppose, That " works" alone, can lead us to repose ! Wanting that element which " Faith'''' supplies, To raise those " works" triumphant to the skies! 42 The Scriptures tell us ask for that in " Prayer'''' — The Power to " ask" it — is it here or there ? '. Have / that " Power" — have / that sacred boon ? That must be tested either late or soon ! Till then, I travel over life's dull round, And wonder where— HOT? — happiness is found! I do my best — I do what many do — And yet 1 think — and fear — and doubt — that I am true .' But why should thus, be sacred writ so strained, As to leave doidjts upon the " Plan ordained?"! Hoic can we " Run and Read" when many a text, Throws such dark shadows o'er the soul perplext ? ! The simple Indian entertains no " doubt" But that the " Great Spirit" is within — without — Watching, at every turn, his devious way, To point the " Trail" and check him when astray ! Look to the Christian! racked with marry a " doubt," liaises this question — " am I in or out f n ! Admitted fully > that {these " texts" apart) The Blessed Scriptures comfort every heart 43 Smooth the sick couch— disarm the demon Death — Give hope to sinners at their latest breath ! Here must I stop ! and check that honest zeal, That fain would give utterance to what I feel ! Leaving to Churchmen fairly to display, And reconcile, these " texts" as best they may ! Now must the Poet plead his own defence, For writing what— to some — will give offence, To many Churchmen, it may icormwood be ! While, haply, Calvinists may think with me! But let not, either one, or other, blame The ' Spectre Bard,' who writes without a name, Simply to register his own conviction ; That the TRANSLATiONSare — a Contradiction I How gladly would the writer hail the day, When all these difficulties were done away ! And that the plain— and honest — simple Word In Christian Churches, were as simply heard! 4.'> LINES Written (on request) after the Author had rend " Sherlock on Death:' When first Jehovah, from his blest abode, On perfect man, the breath of life bestowed, The nascent offspring of his Maker's love, On earth partook the blessings of above, 'Twas there — for reasons, still from us concealed — Nor, till the end of time, can be revealed — ' 'Twas then' — we learn— permitted— or decreed — (No subtle casuist— I narrate the deed) Thai Man — Apostate — proud — rebellious — Man, Should fall — by Sin — from God's angelic Plan ! Mercy refused — lo!— Justice takes her place! The Kins of Terrors claims the Human race ! Claims and receives — obedient to the call, Relentless Death becomes the lot of all ! Yet — not abandoned in this lost estate. By scheme — how deep — how wonderful — how great, The offended Monarch of the realms above, Repays man's base ingratitude by Love ! And sends — in Peace — his sole-begotten Son, To be the Saviour of a world undone ! The Sacred Volume, eke in Mercy given, Pourtrays the Blest realities of Heaven, Grace follows grace — fresh mercies still appear, And mortal agents make the truth more clear ! In this great work— see Sherlock take his stand, In calm obedience to divine command, The proud subduing — giving strength to weak — Eyes to the blind — and courage to the meek — Hope to the Christian at his latest breath — A staff— and comfort — in the vale of Death ! Read him — -ye wise! — from Sherlock learn to know, How fleeting — frail — is happiness below ! -17 Unstayed by Virtue — unimproved by Grace, To speed thee forward on thy Heavenly race ! Learn him ye blind — let Sherlock ope thine eyes, To view the splendid glories of the skies, Let all peruse him— all who prize their soul, And pant — impatient — for the wish'd-for gosd ! 49 Written (impromptu) on the Fly-Leaf of a young Lady's Prize Booh. It' prizes, such as this, bestowed, On education's bright success, Can tend to give a sharper goal. To learning and to happiness. (io on proceed — strain every nerve, Thy little book-case soon shall groan. And every future prize shall serve, To make succeeding ones thine own ! And when that anxious hour shall come, In which thy lot — by Fate decreed — Is cast — the man that seeks his doom In thee — shall find a Prtze i wired .' E 51 LINES (Impromptu ) on being a shed hij a young Lady to write some verses " on Death." As Sysiphus, erst, by the gods was decreed, On a summit, to drag a huge rock of the plain, When, by dint of much toiling, he hoped to succeed, But discovered alas! that his labor was vain! Just such is the labor imposed, when you ask Me to write you some lines on the subject of Death ! The blessings of life were an easier task, — On love — beauty — fame- alas ! fame's but :i breath ! E 2 52 But how can the cases be parallel? — thus — I labor and toil to fulfil the decree, And proceed, In the fruitless attempt to discuss The delights of the blest — from corruption set free ! Like JEolus' offspring success is denied! 'Tis in vain that — in fancy — bright visions I see, I stop! — become giddy — and turning aside- All niv senses fall back to the world and to Thee! 55 MONODY On the Death of a very favorite Dog. BY HIS MISTRESS. My darling " Prince!" and art thon dead!? And is thy life thus quickly sped? How many years have you and I, Bach other loved in sympathy!? "lis nigh two lustres — something short — Since first thy young — endearing — sport Amused me - lacking many joys, To which they were some counterpoise ! Since then — of all thy winning traits — These lines can only dim the praise; I would, I could, thy life extend To where this life <>f mine AyaW end ! 56 But now — oh! now — that thou art gone. And I — in sadness — left alone, I low many retrospective ties Bring sorrow to these tearful eyes! But this is vain! why should I weep? Thy course is run now calmly sleep, In full assurance that thy place Is dosed against thv faithful race ! 59 l i x i : s .' Written impromptu) an being asked by Lama fa write " SOMETHING" in her ' Album.' 5Tes! Laura! I'll write — if it be but a line, — And convert this blank page to a mirror of truth. In which all thy virtues shall faithfully shine, What though tarnished by some few slight failings of youth ; To begin then — you're passably fair — let us say That you've stores of good humour — of laughter and joy May your heart's best affections — I earnestly pray For ever be sheltered from worldly alloy! 60 Ave! "worldly alloy"! that Charybdis of life, Thai vortex thai swallows our charities up — "Tis the withering blast 'tis the source of all -frife, 'Tis the curse 'tis the drug — that embitters your cup ! Abandon it Laura! lei reason have sway, Let religion in all its benignity reign, *Once more — to your Maker in fervency pray. That the sin of ingratitude cease to be thine ! The force of example the scoffs of the proud Th' allurements of fashion no solace can bring, When the scene that's before us shall vanish in cloud, There's one Judge for the peasant, the peer, and the kins ! riiis expression alludes to an acknowledgment of 'Laura' to the i lHat »he "used to say her p ti/crs bul had then given it up .'" 61 An " album's" a vain — foolish — venomous thinir Ladies sometimes find out that it carries .1 sting ! By thrusting it into each visitor's face, Until some one more " rude" than the rest of his race. Might write in it, something they'd wish to efface '. \ 63 A PAliADOX. I frequently look on a certain dear face, Delighted — enchanted — to see That beautiful countenance — suavity — grace- With what sweetness it beams upon me ! I do not believe that the world can contain, Such an index of all that is dear, Such tender avoidance of all that can pain, Let it's object be distant, or near ! And yet — with this deep-felt devotion avowed, Another iidine steals on my sense ! Of whose love — but in death — I can cease to be proud, With a feelino; — absorbing — -intense ! — 64 This appears a rank paradox! banish the thought^ ■• Maria" — " Louisa" — they're one! — There's naught of unfaithfulness — fickleness naught — "Tis but ending just where I begun ! n that countenance, easy to trace Of patient endurance submission— content ? ! 'Tis well that the world can boast something like this : That / can find " something" to cling to my heart. That all my sad sorrows now centre in hliss ! Oh! say my sweet child that we never shall part ! 7.0 LINES, Sent with a Bottle of " Parfait Amour" to— previously to her Marriage. Accept — dear girl — this little token. The fondest — richest — I can give, Oh ! guard the fragile gift unbroken, The longest day yon have to live ! The more you drain the precious treasure, E'en to the dregs — believe the muse ! The more 'twill yield an ample measure, Exhaustlesa as the widow's cruse ! If —as you pass life's fitful season- Friends should e'er ungrateful prove, What balm can heal the galling treason, What? but a mutual " Perfect love"?I 76 How oft, when writhing under sorrow, [lacked by many an anxious care, Looking sadly to the morrow, Have /not found my solace there ?! Fail not, then, to guard the fountain, Whence such genial blessings flow. Source, from whence, is ever mounting, Heaven's foretaste here below ■ 7!) FAREWELL. And wilt thou — must thou say ' Farewell,' Does cruel fate decree to part. Does stern necessity compel, Such woe to this distracted heart ? ! Repeat it not ! In mercy spare Such bitter anguish to my soul, Can false deceit have sojourned where I fondly quaffed the nectar'd bowl ? ! Far be the thought. ! — It cannot be ! Oh ! rather tell me that I dwell, In cherished memory, with thee, This heart betrays, I love too well ! ( ro then beloved ! but oh ! that sound, — — That dreaded sound — " Farewell" forbear! Say but — oh ! spare the bitter wound, Say — that we part— to meet again ! Hi LINKS On being ashed by a young lad;/ to write something on tier Birth-day. \ on ask me to write you some lines on a day That can never ' return' — tell me— what can I say? Can I say that it will? — can I speak it with truth, That age and disease are not sequels of youth, That to death you're exempt from the perilous call, — E'en so young? — soon or late — 'tis the lot of us all. Ah ! no ! — look around you — look forward, look back — See the ravages Time leaves behind in his track ! The sins— the remorses— calamities — strife — And the cares that attend on this turbulent life ! It this won't convince you — just look in the glass. Sketch your portrait,— and keep it — two lustres shall pass, G 82 And then look again—how like you the face? Has the brow not been touched by Time's envious trace ? ! " Rejoice," then, " with trembling," at every « " Return" Of the day that will bring you still nearer " the bourn, " Whence no trav'ller returns" — rather keep it" in fear, Lest the next— in it's orbit — should fail to appear. Still irishiiuj you many a happy long year! 85 THE ' k TERRIBLY EARLY MAN." The proverb is good — it is said, That " they who'd be wealthy and wise," " Should always go early to bed," " And never be late when they rise ;" To others — -the system's distressing, — For ages, Vve followed the plan, \\ itli the, — somewhat equivocal, — blessing, '• You're a terribly early man"! I rise with the twilight of morning, — Which I never neglect if I can, — When, the cook, and the chambermaid, yawning, Cry " Oh ! what a terrible man"! I steal out of- bed from my wife, Who is always averse to the plan. And imploringly cries- -" Oh! my life! •• \ ou're a terribly early man" ! N7 CHARADE. Look to your map — and point your finger where My First stands prominent in distinction — there, The Spaniard claims a long and far descent, That stands in place of mental ornament, ! Assumes a courage, that is not his own, The type, — and semblance, — of the stingless drone! What endless changes does my Second take! In form, — in size — in various shape, and make 1 , Now plain — now intricate — now large — now small,- And yet — one little ivord reveals it all ! It opens locks — displays what treasure's there, — What hidden secrets docs it not declare ! These very lines would still (Enigma he, But for that ' word' to solve the mystery ! 88 My patient WHOLE! it's heritage the whip! With abject poverty tor fellowship,— Bearing a burden oft too hard to hear, To find it's recompense in scanty fare ! Then say— what am I? — tell me what's my name, You ain't'. Then take it- your's is just tin- same! til CHARADE. The Roman cohorts — midst the clash of arms, Rushed on my First — despising war's alarms, Flushed with unerring victory — my SECOND Can hardly less imperative be reckoned ! It rants — it raves — calls sinners to reflect, — - And even bids the good — " Be ch*cumspect," Holds out all sorts of punishments to these, To those it promises eternity of ease, Tells of the pitfalls, that encircle youth, The sure, — -and lasting, — benefits of truth ! Beware my whole ! look well behind the screen! Is there no tipstaff stealing on the scene, Armed with a dreaded instrument of law, To drag thee, trembling, to the justice-bar? ! Say then— what am I? what my mystic WHOLE, That part affects the body— part— the soul ! ? 93 CHARADE. Search through the world — all nations must admit, That I — my First — sad ravages commit, Spoiling their fruits — and— frankly be it known— I claim — and take — a portion as my own ! — Nor can the ocean an exemption claim, At sea — on shore — I serve them all the same, Nay more !— on me, full many a shipwreck's In id, Numbering myself — and others — with the dead ! My Second's quite a different sort of thing, Tt helps to make the trappings of a king, And peasant too — " There nothing is like leather,"' It serves to bind e'en opposites together! So spake the cobbler and 80 sings the muse, Why not? She's thinking of a pair of shoes! 94 My whole in torrid climates has it's bed, Rankling in dunk luxuriance it is said ; — Transported thence— it graces the saloon — Supports a titled lady in a swoon. — The truant — subject to scholastic laws — Dreads me as much as he would dread the "taws"— Then what my name? Declare it— or confess My simple riddle lies beyond your guess ! 1)7 CHARADE. ( )"