THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 " Westwiml tlie course of empire takes its way." BKKKKI.KY. 
 
 THE 
 
 RETROSPECT, 
 
 A POEM. 
 
 IN FOUR CANTOS. 
 
 BY 
 
 JOHN AP THOMAS JONES. 
 
 PHILADELPHIA: 
 
 J. B. LIPPINCOTT & CO. 
 
 1884.
 
 Copyright, 1884, by JOHN AP THOMAS JONES.
 
 PS 
 
 PEEFAOE. 
 
 IN presenting " The Retrospect" to the public the 
 author deems it almost unnecessary to follow the 
 usual custom of an introductory explanation. The 
 poem, which must speak for itself, had its origin 
 simply in the recreation of leisure hours. But, the 
 prompting of its inspiration is freely admitted as 
 having a higher purpose ; for often has the author 
 felt an impassioned desire, as he saw the inarch of 
 progress sweeping away every landmark of the pio 
 neer and early emigrant, to rescue if possible from 
 oblivion, not their historic record, but the memory 
 of that spirit which controlled those days of our 
 Arcadian simplicity. As a narrative poem the style 
 adopted is that flowing, familiar measure easily 
 read, and always popular : while the language aims 
 
 759804
 
 4 PREFACE. 
 
 to be forcible without ostentation, plain without 
 commonplace. The experience of the writer has 
 particularly qualified him for the work; ;is a famil 
 iar intercourse with many of those old characters, 
 now passed away, has, through their lives and their 
 traditions, given him a fund of information : while 
 the landscapes depicted are but the developments of 
 scenery impressed from nature upon his mind. So 
 having finished his task, a pleasure within itself, he 
 presents it to the public, for what it is worth, as the 
 work of one who always loved the picturesque and 
 poetic in the history of his people.
 
 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 CANTO I. 
 
 'TWAS eve the sun had grandly rolled, 
 Through crimson clouds all fringed with gold, 
 
 In triumph down the west; 
 But left behind, as king of day, 
 His twilight's soft enchanting ray, 
 
 To meditations blest. 
 A thousand plants, of Summer's bloom, 
 Were blending in one sweet perfume 
 
 Their breath upon the air ; 
 Where all, in bliss, appeared to fill 
 Life's transient cup without an ill, 
 
 As once did Eden fair. 
 A stately mansion near us stood 
 Beneath a grand old grove of wood,
 
 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 Whose ancient roots searched deep the ground, 
 Whose giant limbs on high around 
 Their leafy branches spread above, 
 Like wings that shield a brood of love. 
 
 This home, beneath this sylvan shade, 
 
 Was of a taste refined ; 
 Around its handsome colonnade 
 
 The woodbine sweetly twined : 
 While on the lawn, refreshing, cool, 
 There stood a bass-carved marble pool ; 
 
 Where nymph-like fountains tossed their spray 
 In crystals o'er a sportive school 
 
 Of golden fish at play. 
 From thence, we saw the distance bound 
 By chains of mountain foot-hills round ; 
 
 While in the valley lay 
 A spacious city sending high 
 Her towering steeples, to the sky, 
 
 Which caught the coming ray
 
 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 Of rising Cynthia, queen of night, 
 Whose silvery sheen, in ripples bright, 
 Danced on a river, rolling free 
 Through rosy banks, to greet the sea. 
 
 This landscape, though with beauty spread, 
 
 Would be to me of little care ; 
 Earth's grandest scenes are cheerless dead ! 
 
 If woman never enters there. 
 In Eden, e'en, when Time had birth, 
 
 Who could its loneliness withstand ? 
 But woman came ! the gem of earth, 
 
 The masterpiece of nature's hand ! 
 Then changed indeed ! how bright the hour ! 
 
 When radiant beauty spread around 
 Her charms ; which paled the fairest flower 
 
 That bloomed on man's celestial ground. 
 
 So on the active stage of strife 
 We'll raise the veil ; displaying life 
 In scenes that might regale
 
 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 The senses with adventures wild ; 
 Or charm with love's devotions mild ; 
 Like strange Aladdin's tale. 
 
 Grouped on the colonnade a band 
 
 Of lassies clustered in their prime, 
 Like fairies from a dreamer's land ; 
 
 Or goddesses of Homer's time. 
 Their tresses, some retained the ray 
 Of gold that crowned the parting day ; 
 While some, their sable locks so bright, 
 Reflected back the coming night; 
 And this bright group, all young and fair, 
 Sat building castles in the air. 
 
 An aged grandam sat alone, 
 
 The queen of life's domestic throne; 
 
 A link she seemed, by nature cast 
 
 In silver, with the buried past : 
 
 Her locks were bleached in sorrow's tide, 
 
 Fair as the robes that deck the bride ;
 
 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 Yet stately was her mien and grace, 
 Though care had marked her noble face. 
 
 Her mind was calling in review 
 
 The times of fourscore years or more ; 
 Her dreams awoke old scenes anew 
 
 That long had slept in mem'ry's store. 
 The stars were lighting up the sky; 
 
 But she their beauty heeded not. 
 The fire-flies were flashing nigh ; 
 
 Yet things around were all forgot. 
 'Twas in the past her vision trod, 
 
 Retracing all her paths of time; 
 Or paused, to view the verdant sod 
 
 Where sleeps her own best love sublime. 
 It was a pensive hour to dwell 
 
 On dreamy hopes, or fading past, 
 To thrill the soul with rapture's swell 
 
 In visions far too bright to last. 
 
 'Twas then a lady with an air 
 
 Of matron grace, relieved from care,
 
 10 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 Stepped forth, exclaiming with surprise, 
 As beaming nature met her eyes : 
 Oh, grandma! see! Oh, what a sight ! 
 How grand the moon shines out to-night ! 
 It looks it seems the world awhile 
 Is bathed in nature's sweetest smile ! 
 It was not always thus you've seen 
 This word in tranquil bliss serene: 
 I've told these girls how you could tell 
 Them many a changing story well ; 
 For you are last of all our race 
 Who first had settled in this place. 
 
 The youthful band took up the plea, 
 While moving round like fairies free, 
 They pressed her hard, in merry glee, 
 
 To. hear her story told. 
 With zeal they gave her love's embrace, 
 They smoothed her brow, they kissed her face. 
 Until with unaffected grace 
 
 She gave these tales as told.
 
 THE RETROSPECT. \\ 
 
 My children, I was dreaming how 
 
 Old scenes have changed, for once the space 
 
 Below was one wild wood, but now 
 A mighty city fills the place. 
 
 Great grandeur fell before the hand 
 
 That came to delve and till the land ; 
 
 That laid the stately forest low, 
 
 To gain what labor might bestow. 
 
 Back, far as mem'ry bears my dreams 
 
 I see or so to me it seems 
 
 A village fair, of rural taste, 
 
 Its church refined, its mansions chaste ; 
 
 And then a scene, a busy scene, 
 
 A moving long conies in between 
 
 That place and after-years. 
 But I will make my theme to-night 
 The changes that occurred in sight ; 
 
 Tales of the pioneers. 
 
 My father's bold and restless will 
 Was of a nature naught could still ;
 
 12 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 The settled scenes he left behind 
 Were fetters to his iron mind ; 
 So like a royal bird that spread 
 Its wings for freedom, father fled, 
 Away from men ! away he flew ! 
 It mattered not ! he little knew ! 
 Until he found this place to fill 
 The measure of his reckless will. 
 
 When first we came no human sound 
 
 Had broke the solitude around, 
 
 Save but the savage of our race 
 
 Who prowled the wood in search of chase 
 
 And I have seen the red man stand 
 
 In rapt amazement to behold 
 Reared on his choicest hunting land 
 
 The wigwam of the Paleface bold. 
 
 'Twas then indeed sublime to see 
 The untouched forests waving free ; 
 These valleys, far as eye can reach, 
 With ash, the oak, the birch, the beech,
 
 THE RETROSPECT. 13 
 
 The walnut, elms, were filled in fine 
 With trees unnumbered ; and the pine 
 Crowned like the plumes of royal pride 
 Each mountain-top ; while down the side 
 The cypress and the cedar grew 
 In majesty, to charm the view. 
 
 That spot where stands yon marble dome, 
 
 To all my youthful memories dear, 
 Was where my father built his home 
 
 Of logs, felled in the forest near. 
 With loam and leaves he made it proof 
 
 In every seam against the roar 
 Of winter's blast, and for the roof 
 
 He spread with bark the structure o'er. 
 The chimney and the hearth he made 
 Of wicker-work, and overlaid 
 Them both within and out, entire, 
 With mud, to guard against the fire ; 
 But all was strongly built for war : 
 The very planks that formed the door
 
 14 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 Were riven from old oaken forms 
 
 Whose strength had braved a thousand storms. 
 
 On wings of thought I wander hack 
 
 To childhood's days, o'er memory's track ; 
 
 I see them now in every change 
 
 Of beauty and of terrors strange. 
 
 When nights were long and winters cold, 
 
 The wolves would prowl in hunger near, 
 Around the house, while in the fold 
 
 The frightened lambs all cringed with fear. 
 The bears, the panthers, and a score 
 Of consternations spread before 
 My youthful path, when yet a child 
 I ventured in the forest wild. 
 But violets sweet, and daisies bright, 
 And roses wild allured the sight, 
 And made me all forgetful roam 
 In realms of beauty round my home : 
 And madly, too, I loved the rills, 
 The ceaseless music of the hills,
 
 THE RETROSPECT. 15 
 
 Ere they their final leap would take, 
 To rest forever in the lake. 
 But oh, how changed ! those waters feel 
 Upon the lake the ploughing keel ; 
 Those dancing rills are led to trace 
 Their sluggish way along a race, 
 Until each bridled stream is made 
 To turn the grinding wheels of trade. 
 
 But we should not repine though gone, 
 Great nature's charm for at the dawn 
 Of culture, came in beauty's stead, 
 Security instead of dread ; 
 Security to live in peace ; 
 
 Security for honest toil ; 
 Security for that increase 
 
 Which wastes not as the huntsman's spoil. 
 
 Not long alone were we, for soon 
 Another came, I think 'twas June? 
 The second June, when all was bright ! 
 A stranger paused before a sight
 
 16 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 As fair to see as e'er the earth 
 Displayed since Mother Nature's birth. 
 The man was of colossal size ; 
 Strong as an oak ; with eagle eyes : 
 Quick as a panther, and as bold 
 A man as ever dared the wold. 
 The wife, in contrast by his side. 
 Unfit to stem life's stormy tide, 
 Was of a nature calm and mild ; 
 And she was God's anointed child. 
 One child had they, but one, and he 
 Was like his father strong and free, 
 While from his mother's soul he drew 
 The grace of God that made him true. 
 
 And this was Reuben, bless the boy ! 
 
 Who through my days of childhood's play 
 Was my protector, guide, and joy, 
 
 And in my after-years my stay. 
 Once, I remember well when we 
 
 Went forth to greet the fragrant spring;
 
 THE RETROSPECT. |7 
 
 Went forth in youth, with spirits free, 
 When song was on the feathered wing ; 
 
 For all the grove seemed then alive 
 
 With birds, and bees, in nature's hive. 
 
 The birds sang love-songs in the bower ; 
 
 The bees sipped honey from each flower ; 
 
 While we went forth to hail with pride 
 
 The vernal, charms on every side. 
 
 Yes, we beneath those arbors green 
 Of arching boughs in heedless play, 
 
 Went onward, charmed with every scene, 
 Regardless where their paths would stray, 
 
 Went onward, weaving garlands sweet, 
 
 Of buds and blossoms at our feet ; 
 
 For he declared, from east to west 
 
 He'd cull the gems of Flora's best, 
 
 To twine a diadem for me ; 
 
 The peerless queen of Flora's lea. 
 
 But soon beclouded was that dream ; 
 For in a glen where scarce a beam
 
 18 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 Of searching sunlight's strength could learn 
 The depth of that dark vale of fern, 
 We lost our way ; yes, lost our pnth, 
 As if the spirit, dark, of wrath, 
 In evil mood, had come to blight 
 That glow of transient blisses bright. 
 
 Lost! lost! I know that awful sound, 
 With solitude supreme around. 
 It checked my blood like winter's blast; 
 That moment seemed indeed my last ; 
 For all in terror, where I stood, 
 I saw but danger's boundless wood. 
 But in his strength, of manly might, 
 He led me where a sunbeam bright 
 Broke through a glade; and as he smiled 
 He asked me, " Are you yet a child ?" 
 A child ! As I that question caught, 
 It raised a strange, o'erwhelming thought, 
 For I had sprung as girlhood grows, 
 A bud just blooming out a rose.
 
 THE RETROSPECT. 19 
 
 And oh ! estranged ! there seemed to yawn 
 Between me and my friend of old 
 
 A wondrous gulf, when reason's dawn 
 Revealed myself of woman's mould. 
 
 Instinctively I shrank away, 
 Doubt, fear, on that eventful day, 
 Possessed ray soul, till Reuben's mind 
 Displayed itself in acts refined 
 In self-reliant courage rare ; 
 In gentle words, in tender care ; 
 Until my feelings soon regained 
 That confidence his life sustained. 
 Bold was his step while leading on : 
 
 Light as an antelope and free ; 
 One well might deem all danger gone 
 
 Who had the privilege to see. 
 But as I watched each anxious look 
 
 With which his roving eye would stray, 
 I saw with every path he took 
 
 'Twas hope alone that led the way.
 
 20 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 Then I to cheer him, o'er and o'er 
 Went prattling fancy's mystic lore, 
 To draw from superstition, hope 
 Found only in diviner scope : 
 For where religion fails to hold 
 A people in its sacred fold, 
 Their hungry souls are sure to cling 
 For comfort to some occult thing. 
 So in that wild, unsettled life 
 
 The daring pioneer must lead, 
 He finds but little through the strife 
 
 On which the Christian soul can feed. 
 The very nature of his mind 
 Has rent him from a world refined 
 And sent him, like a morning ray, 
 The herald of a coming day. 
 We had no caste distinctions there; 
 The learned, the coarse, the tender fair 
 Leaned all alike on common might, 
 For safety, in a savage fright. 
 And superstition's idle dream 
 Held almost every hope supreme :
 
 THE RETROSPECT. 21 
 
 They pow-wowed o'er their sick for health ; 
 Misfortunes came by witches' stealth, 
 And great were they whose charm could break 
 The coil of the wizard's snake. 
 
 One wild old waif surpassed them all ; 
 
 Her land, her lineage, none could tell ; 
 O'er spirits great, or spirits small, 
 
 She claimed to hold a magic spell. 
 Half savage, and half civilized, 
 Old Cora seemed, and highly prized 
 The faith, the honor, and the dread 
 Her very presence round her spread. 
 A captive maiden, crushed, a slave 
 Her lot had been to serve her brave ; 
 Till hardship ploughed each gentle trace 
 Of woman from her wrinkled face ; 
 Then, like a sibyl-crone of old, 
 She gained a power uncontrolled 
 O'er Indian, and the white as well ! 
 For none disputed Cora's spell.
 
 22 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 Her tales were those I told that day, 
 To cheer us on our doubtful way. 
 Tales of the Fairy Spirits bright, 
 Born, as she said, of air and light ; 
 When Spring returns with all her cheer, 
 The mother of the fruitful year. 
 These tiny elves seemed in her mind 
 To hold a spirit place refined ; 
 Created for the special good 
 Of guarding mortals in the wood. 
 
 I've heard her tell with zealous vim, 
 Tell how they came in fairy-trim ; 
 Tell how the snow-drop, blooming white, 
 Was planted first by their Frigid Knight 
 As he came in furs, to prepare the way 
 
 For the King and Queen, 
 
 In their beautiful sheen, 
 At the head of their grand array. 
 And how the Queen, on her butterfly, 
 Rode with her maids of honor nigh ;
 
 THE RETROSPECT. 23 
 
 While the monarch bold, 
 
 On his bug of gold, 
 Led his host with banners high ; 
 With flaunting banners ! but instead of drum, 
 The music he brought was the wild-bees' hum, 
 Who fed, from their bags of honey-dew, 
 The motley throng of the Fairy crew. 
 
 And the rank and file would gather, she said, 
 Gather by night, in a moonlit glade ; 
 In mirth and might, yet ceased their sport 
 To build a throne for their royal court ; 
 All built of th' soft white silver-light 
 That falls from the moon on a Fairy-night. 
 
 But the beautiful Queen was the brilliant theme 
 That roused the crone to her brightest dream. 
 Clad, as she said, in gossamer blue, 
 That changed and turned to every hue 
 The Fairies from the rainbow drew, 
 Or robbed from even* flower.
 
 24 THK RETROSPECT. 
 
 And the crown she wore was a golden stream 
 The Fairies plucked from a morning beam ; 
 Twined and twisted, with many a gem 
 Of rosy-dew, in a diadem 
 
 That glistened through the bower : 
 Where all supreme "she ruled in might; 
 While forth her King, with armies bright, 
 Sped out to guard their wood by night; 
 
 In pomp of Fairy power. 
 
 Here Cora's face would darkly scowl, 
 Her voice assume a sullen growl, 
 As she described old Giant Grim ; 
 His bulky form, his massive limb, 
 His staff made of a lofty tree 
 With which he strode the forest free, 
 Or stalked across the hills, to steal 
 A brace of mortals for his meal. 
 
 Then bright her wrinkled features grew, 
 As wild her zeal and fancy drew
 
 THE RETROSPECT. 25 
 
 The fall of Giant Grim. 
 'Twas on a night, the moon shone bright, 
 The Fairy choir, by its light, 
 
 Had sung their evening hymn ; 
 When all were startled by the sound 
 Of screams; and by the trembling ground, 
 That told the Giant prowled around, 
 
 With mortals in his hand. 
 Then to her herald-cricket gave 
 The Queen command, to call the brave 
 Around the trysting-tree, to save 
 
 That earth-born helpless band. 
 
 The Fairies hearing, left their mirth 
 In swarms, from trees, and caves of earth ; 
 They left, from where the blooming rose 
 Concealed* the butterfly's repose ; 
 And from the ferns, where waters leap 
 Along the rock-bound chasm deep, 
 To do their Royal King's command ; 
 As guards of their enchanted land.
 
 26 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 And as her tale went on to say, 
 The King arrived in armed array; 
 Where, mounting on his toadstool -stand, 
 He hailed his legions of command ; 
 And made in hurried accent loud 
 This proclamation to the crowd : 
 " Ye Braves ! we have a word to say, 
 Stands here a single knightly fay 
 Who lance in hand, amid this gloom, 
 Will save these mortals from their doom? 
 If so ! we pledge our Crown and Life, 
 Our Royal Child shall be his wife !" 
 
 Forth stepped a knightly fay of fame, 
 She said 'twas Fairy Dare, by name ; 
 His tiny form, right brave to see, 
 Was armed a soldier cap-a-pie. * 
 His helmet was a skull, bleached white, 
 Of humming-bird gained in a fight ; 
 The plates that formed his coat of mail 
 Were gold and silver ; each a scale
 
 THE RETROSPECT. 27 
 
 Of tiny fish, wrecked on the strand 
 Where surging oceans storm the land. 
 
 " My Liege," the little knight replied, 
 
 " One word before I leave your side ; 
 
 My lance unbought is for the right ; 
 
 At your command I charge to-night : 
 
 And if I die, let no one say 
 
 I died a mercenary Fay, 
 
 Or that I failed my King's command, 
 
 Till purchased by his daughter's hand ; 
 
 If I return I now disown 
 
 All claims; unless from her alone." 
 
 Then to the air he spread his wings, 
 Two gauze-like, gilded, speckled things, 
 And like in size but as a fly, 
 Dare perched on Grim's great shoulder high, 
 Where long he held his thorny lance, 
 Awaiting but a Fairy's chance 
 To work his purpose well.
 
 28 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 He climbed the hair and eyelids near ; 
 Explored within the Giant's ear ; 
 But not a vital spot he found 
 In all his explorations round, 
 
 Till in a weary spell 
 The Giant sought refreshing sleep ; 
 Beneath a thicket dark and deep, 
 
 Where scarce a moon-beam fell. 
 
 Then for his work the Fay prepared, 
 
 When searching round he found, forsooth ! 
 A chance that desperation dared, 
 
 A cavern in a hollow tooth. 
 So, in the tooth without reserve 
 
 The Fairy hid, to try his game, 
 Of battling on the laughing nerve ; 
 
 The nerve that ruled the Giant's frame. 
 
 I cannot now, at this late date, 
 Do justice to, or half relate 
 Old Cora's story of that strife 
 The Fairy waged for human life.
 
 THE RETROSPECT. 29 
 
 But from his cave, all undeterred, 
 
 The Giant's tongue with might he speared, 
 
 Until the wood and hills around 
 
 Were moved by one unearthly sound 
 
 Of laughter loud ; that scarce a bird 
 
 O * 
 
 Has since that night in song been heard ; 
 Except the owl, who in dismay 
 Screams frightful yet for dawning day. 
 
 But Dare he tickled, might and main ; 
 He scratched, he thrust, he charged again ; 
 While Grim with howling laughter rolled, 
 For laughter all his force controlled, 
 Until he weak, and weaker grew, 
 As he in fierce contortions threw 
 Himself around, and gasped for breath, 
 Till Dare had tickled him to death. 
 
 Then Cora told in mirthful glee 
 How merry Dare leaped forth to see 
 The helpless mortals safe and free ;
 
 30 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 And how he blew his tiny horn ; 
 And how the signal back was borne, 
 That called the Fay of phantom light 
 With all his Jack-a-lanterns bright; 
 Who lured the lost bewildered through 
 The wood to homeward paths they knew. 
 
 These tales, and more, I told that day, 
 A parrot keeping fear at bay ; 
 And I in faith, indeed, believed 
 Those tales, as truths by most received. 
 But looking up, I saw revealed 
 In Reuben's smile a doubt concealed, 
 That banished every hope I drew 
 Of help from Cora's Fairy crew. 
 
 Oh ! I remember every trace 
 Of Reuben's frank, expressive face, 
 As I besought him thus to tell 
 What he believed of spirits fell. 
 I told him, father said a youth 
 
 He was of deep discernment keen ;
 
 THE RETROSPECT. 31 
 
 And begged him, O, to tell in truth 
 
 If he had e'er a fairy seen ? 
 For I have heard grim stories old, 
 
 I said, of ghosts and giants dread ; 
 Until my very blood ran cold, 
 
 And terror dazed my reeling head. 
 But you are always calm and still ; 
 
 You seem to fear no earthly sound; 
 What is it that controls your will ? 
 
 Are there no terrors lurking round ? 
 IVe often dwelt in quiet dream 
 
 How grand it is to be like you ; 
 And longed to drink that precious stream, 
 
 Which makes a life so brave and true. 
 
 " I never saw," he said, " nor could, 
 These air-born spirits of the wood. - 
 They spring from superstition's brain, 
 Or from the poet's dreamy strain, 
 To terrify, or please the mind, 
 Of ignorance, or taste refined.
 
 32 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 But one I know, of passing worth, 
 
 A fairy form-like child of earth, 
 
 Who far excels in beauty rare 
 
 Your figment spirits of the air. 
 
 'Tis not her robes of gaudy glow 
 
 Plucked from the storm-cloud's brilliant bow, 
 
 But sparkling eyes dark as the night, 
 
 A heart supreme in all that's right ;" 
 
 But modesty forbids me tell 
 His glowing words of praise, that fell, 
 Like sounds eolian, on my ear, 
 And thrilled me with a love sincere. 
 I answered not. I could not speak. 
 I felt the crimson in my cheek : 
 But with an impulse naught could check 
 I threw my arms around his neck ; 
 For in my breast had burst the same 
 Bright glow that rose from Eden's flame, 
 When God first gave to man in bliss 
 The rapture of Eve's loving kiss.
 
 THE RETROSPECT. 33 
 
 True love is life's celestial flame, 
 
 A lamp that lights earth's darkest hour, 
 It was a bridal-gift that came 
 
 When man, a new created power, 
 Walked in the rich ambrosial grove 
 
 Of Eden, ere he fell from grace : 
 'Twas God his Maker gave him love, 
 
 Before he lost that sacred place. 
 It was the only gift divine 
 
 He bore from thence. It never dies ! 
 'Tis Heaven's own ! and yet 'tis mine ! 
 
 To bless the earth ! and bless the skies ! 
 O, sacred thought ! I wait the store 
 
 When I shall join my friends above, 
 Where we shall meet, to part no more, 
 
 Around the hallow'd throne of love ! 
 
 That day, on rapture's pinions bright, 
 Care took an eagle's airy flight 
 Awhile away ; till terror's dread 
 Aroused us to those dangers spread
 
 34 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 Around us there, and changed the dream 
 Of earth to hope's almighty theme. 
 He cheered me on with tales of love, 
 Celestial love, how God above 
 Beholds our wants, and sends us aid 
 Unseen, in every form : he said, 
 " God sends us blessings in each shower ; 
 He breathes from every perfume-flower ; 
 He whispers in the rippling rills ; 
 He made the everlasting hills; 
 And do you think He would forget 
 A soul on which His seal is set ? 
 That seal that binds us to His shrine 
 Of hope eternal ; all divine!" 
 
 Then smilingly, he said, "And you 
 Have wondered whence the stream I drew, 
 Those waters that have made me hail 
 With coldness every idle tale, 
 That fills this grand majestic place 
 With people of a goblin race.
 
 THE RETROSPECT. 35 
 
 " Know then, that stream the saints revered ; 
 
 'Tis inspiration's Holy Word : 
 
 Through every page salvation flows ; 
 
 There, Glory's crown of mercy glows ; 
 
 And there alone can sorrow find 
 
 The bairn that heals the wounded mind." 
 
 I then knew little of that Book, 
 
 For hope- eternal's shining brook 
 
 Had scarcely cast its flaky foam 
 
 Around my good, but worldly home. 
 
 But Reuben's soul was like a star 
 Lit from the shining gates, ajar, 
 And cast that day its light o'er me; 
 A light that set my spirit free. 
 He first described in flights superb 
 The beauty of the Sacred Word ; 
 How by the voice of God divine 
 The sun and stars were bid to shine ; 
 And how the cloud of glory rolled 
 Through Zion's temple, lined witli gold ;
 
 36 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 And closed, at last, where John relates 
 His visions of the pearly gates. 
 
 And then he spoke of Giant Grirn ; 
 
 Of Satan's power ; and told of him 
 
 Who prowled, and prowls the stricken earth 
 
 In fury since creation's birth. 
 
 How by ambition's fault he fell, 
 
 An angel peer, to rule in hell ; 
 
 And how he wears a subtle smile, 
 
 The thoughtless worldlings to beguile, 
 
 As raving through the earth he strolls : 
 
 The ruin of immortal souls ! 
 
 But when he touched that theme above 
 All other themes, the theme of love, 
 His mind ! his soul ! his spirit fired ! 
 He spoke! he looked ! like one inspired. 
 And in my mind I saw the view 
 Of Jesus crucified he drew.
 
 THE RETROSPECT. 37 
 
 J saw the crown of plaited thorn ; 
 The sacred brow of mercy torn ; 
 The crimson drops of hallow'd blood, 
 Each drop a world's redemptive flood. 
 I saw the anguish of the eye ; 
 I heard the Mediator cry ; 
 While from the cross appeared to shine 
 Refulgent beams of light divine. 
 That day its mem'ries sweet remain ; 
 For I, that day, was born again ! 
 Born in a wilderness untrod 
 By Christian foot, a child of God ! 
 
 Born of the Spirit ! Thought sublime! 
 O, who unmoved can on it dwell ? 
 
 A life that knows no roll of time ! 
 A holy gift! a hallow'd spell ! 
 
 A person of the Triune one, 
 
 The Comforter sent by the Son ; 
 
 We scarcely dream a Godhead form 
 
 Keeps every Christ-born spirit warm.
 
 38 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 To mortal minds His hallow'd course 
 
 Seems often but a subtle force, 
 
 Like dews that fall upon the earth, 
 
 To feed the things of soulless birth. 
 
 Yet strange ! to some He comes with power, 
 
 As lightning through a summer shower; 
 
 To strike the proud the haughty down ; 
 
 Like rocks rent from the mountain's crown. 
 
 While some, in grace, grow like the gem 
 
 Of vernal life, on nature's stem, 
 
 A doubtful speck that's scarcely seen, 
 
 A larger bulb of leafy green, 
 
 A bursting bud, a brilliant bloom , 
 
 That fills the air with sweet perfume. 
 
 I've seen myself a man of sin 
 Touched by a monitor within ; 
 Who trembled like the aspen leaf 
 When first he heard, with bitter grief, 
 The lost estate of those who scorn 
 The blessings of the sacred born.
 
 THE RETROSPECT. 39 
 
 I saw him bowed in anxious prayer, 
 
 I heard him cry in wild despair ; 
 
 When to his soul the Spirit came 
 
 And filled with light that child of shame. 
 
 His form changed not; his rough, scarred face 
 
 Lost not a single earthly trace ; 
 
 But when he spoke profaneless, calm ; 
 
 We found the wolf was born a lamb. 
 
 That man to sin was shackled fast, 
 
 Till Jesus cleansed him from the past. 
 
 But to my tale : The sun for rest 
 Was fast descending in the west, 
 When, wearied, near a gnarled old oak, 
 W"e tarried by a spring that broke, 
 As if to cheer our dark despair, 
 Bright from a rock, in crystals clear. 
 We bathed our faces, drink refreshed 
 Our anxious hopes, by fear oppressed ; 
 When turning round I asked him there, 
 To plead of God a guide in prayer.
 
 40 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 Grand was that orison he made, 
 
 That God would guide us from that glade 
 
 It sparkled, like the dewy leaf, 
 
 With sacred faith and firm belief ; 
 
 And poured in love's most earnest plea, 
 
 It seemed a prayer alone for me. 
 
 The prayer was done. The quiet hush 
 Was broken by a rustling bush, 
 That startled both with sudden doubt, 
 When father's dog sprang wildly out ; 
 And dancing, leaping from the ground, 
 As if he felt the lost were found, 
 Went circling round, and ran before, 
 A guide to rny own father's door. 
 That day was one with danger fraught, 
 ^hat day was one of sacred thought : 
 Yet blest is still to me that day 
 I learned to love, and learned to pray.
 
 CANTO II. 
 
 THE great-grandmother paused, for here 
 
 Her story reached its seeming close ; 
 Amid those scenes, to memory dear, 
 
 Where hope had found repose. 
 Amid those scenes, while years remain, 
 The aged love to walk again ; 
 Transported o'er a world of care 
 To youth's Elysian fields of air. 
 But those around, with youthful praise, 
 Besought her to recount her days 
 That followed those in that wild grove; 
 And tell the sequel of her love. 
 But she, the ancient, dwelt in thought 
 Like one by seeming doubts overwrought, 
 Until her eye revealed the span 
 
 Of doubt was past; and thus began : 
 
 41
 
 42 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 No dream of words can ever paint 
 
 Devotion fond, sublimely true: 
 Love-pictures are but shadows faint 
 
 The poet's genius spreads to view. 
 True hearts, like crystal drops that meet 
 
 Upon the petal of a flower, 
 Are blended in one union sweet; 
 
 Defying fancy's brightest power. 
 Love smooths the troubled path of life; 
 
 For, like the calm and limpid tide, 
 It flows above the ills of strife ; 
 
 As waters o'er the rocks they hide. 
 And so the world rolled smoothly on, 
 
 Nor marked we how the years swept by, 
 As time entwined our souls as one, 
 
 In love, in hope, in rapture's tie. 
 
 The seasons changed, enchanting flew, 
 Without a change between us two ; 
 Although, by observation, they 
 Are often types of love's display.
 
 THE RETROSPECT. 43 
 
 
 
 We see the south winds softly bring 
 Coquettish promise in the spring; 
 Then turn and fly with all their charms, 
 And leave the world in winter's arms. 
 So oft the doubtful lovers fly ; 
 A yearning youth, a maiden shy, 
 When but devotion's earnest sigh 
 Would melt the frost of folly's fear, 
 And bid the bloom of hope appear. 
 All bliss was ours. A buoyant time 
 Swept over Reuben's spring, and mine : 
 No storms disturbed our peaceful rest, 
 No icy doubt chilled either breast. 
 For us sweet Flora, through the bowers, 
 Strewed nothing but her choicest flowers. 
 
 Then tranquil summer bright in June 
 Comes with her ripening rays above, 
 
 Comes with the mocking-bird's sweet tune, 
 Comes with her brilliant beams of love 
 That strengthen day by day ;
 
 44 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 Until the swain, where labor spread 
 The seed of faith, beholds his bread 
 
 In harvest's rich array. 
 So love's implanted faith sublime 
 Grows stronger 'neath the roll of time, 
 Like to that blazing orb on high, 
 Undimmed, undying in the sky. 
 All brilliant were our summers, we 
 Were rustics then both strong and free, 
 
 Who gathered in the field 
 With all the neighbors round, for hands 
 Were few in those fresh broken lands, 
 
 To harvest in the yield. 
 And merry were those days, when all 
 Each other helped, both great and small, 
 And swelled at noon the chorus long, 
 That lengthened out the harvest song. 
 Where Reuben reaped, I followed there, 
 To bind with skill, and loving care, 
 Our golden sheaves, and have them stand 
 The praise and pride of all the band.
 
 THE RETROSPECT. 45 
 
 Then when at eve the twilight's ray 
 Dispersed the laborers of the day, 
 We homeward strolled, while all was still, 
 Save but, perhaps, the whip-poor-will, 
 And talked love's air-built castles o'er : 
 
 
 
 The garners of youth's hopeful store. 
 
 Then Autumn, in her gaudy pride, 
 A transformation comes, a show 
 
 Of beauty, as the forest wide 
 
 Displays its changing leaves aglow ; 
 
 Like love's life-sunset when the twain 
 
 Have reached their autumn, sans a stain. 
 
 In their kaleidoscope of years, 
 
 Unblighted by remorseful tears, 
 
 They see revolving o'er and o'er 
 
 Their brightly-tinted days of yore ; 
 
 Or see around the ripened fruit, 
 
 Of children trained without dispute; 
 
 Where aged, honored, parents blest 
 
 May pillow on aifection's reast
 
 46 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 But discord sows u bitter seed ; 
 When age shall feel devotion's need, 
 Alone, they'll find, though sorrow grieves, 
 But Autumn's dry, dead, cheerless leaves. 
 The seasons changed, the seasons flew, 
 Without a change between us two. 
 Our love was like the pine as seen ; 
 It lived in strength a fadeless green 
 Through summer's suns, and Avi liter's roar, 
 Till time to Reuben was no more. 
 
 E'en when the howling Winter came 
 With sleeting storms and driving rain, 
 It still had pleasures in its flow; 
 Though earth was shrouded o'er with snow. 
 For brighter than the sparkling lights 
 Of jewel stars, on frosty nights, 
 Are lovers' hopes ; when round the blaze 
 They talk, and dream, of brighter days. 
 
 I often stop to ponder how 
 
 The things have changed 'tween then and now:
 
 THE RETROSPECT. 47 
 
 This house so grand, with comforts rare, 
 Its frescoed walls, and finished stair, 
 Its velvet floors, and stately dome, 
 And wonder can it be my home. 
 And strange it seems from far below 
 The furnace sends its pleasant glow 
 Of heat so mild, through every room, 
 That melts away the winter's gloom ; 
 As if the art of man could bring 
 The fairy breeze of endless spring. 
 
 And when I wander through yon mill 
 The sight around seems stranger still ; 
 The spinning-mule's unnumbered reels 
 Have far eclipsed the rustic wheels, 
 And cast a blessing o'er the land, 
 Where once the overburdened hand 
 Of woman, night and day to win 
 But comforts small, would toil and spin ; 
 To spin and toil she seemed a slave, 
 Between the cradle and the grave.
 
 48 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 Yet all these modern things of art 
 May be but trammels on the heart ; 
 That throbs in forest homes as free 
 As boughs wave on the mountain tree. 
 
 Our cabin home, i know it well. 
 
 No royal palace can excel, 
 
 In charming bliss, the winter night, 
 
 When hearts were warm and sorrows light ; 
 
 As we sat 'round the blazing hearth 
 
 All buoyant love, all simple mirth, 
 
 To tell the ventures of the day, 
 
 Or watch the young at rustic play. 
 
 And when I hear the modern strain 
 
 It wafts me to that home again ; 
 
 And in my heart I keenly feel 
 
 The music of the spinning-wheel, 
 
 When I would sit with Reuben nigh 
 
 And spin the flax, that seemed to tie 
 
 Our hearts, our hopes, our thoughts as one, 
 
 With every thread my fingers spun.
 
 THE RETROSPECT. 49 
 
 But many a day's auspicious morn 
 Has been ere noon all tempest torn ; 
 Yes, many a ship of royal power 
 Has foundered in its proudest hour ! 
 Once, when the broad green woodlands round 
 Seemed wrapped in lasting peace profound, 
 A band of wealthy strangers came, 
 As huntsmen searching after game. 
 A guide they sought around our place, 
 One skilled ; who knew the wary chase ; 
 And pressed my Reuben, whom they made 
 Their leader, through the woodland-glade ; 
 For he was formed by nature's hand, 
 A man majestic, to command ! 
 
 There was among that stranger train 
 
 A popinjay, of follies vain ; 
 
 Who pleaded sickness, want of care ; 
 
 A nurse among the ladies fair ; 
 
 And stayed behind, to play the part 
 
 Of foolish suitor for my heart.
 
 50 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 He told me tales of foreign climes ; 
 He changed his theme to rapture's rhymes ; 
 He spoke of mansions rich and grand ; 
 And placed them all at my command. 
 But O ! the contrast grandly shed 
 A halo round rny Reuben's head ; 
 That weakling, to my darling one, 
 Was as a rush-light to the sun. 
 
 Three fleeting days had scarcely passed 
 
 Since Reuben forth the hunters led 
 Before our homes were overcast 
 
 With deep solicitude and dread : 
 For near the spring, we found around 
 Deep Indian footprints o'er the ground ; 
 Revealing death, and savage war, 
 In ambush near each scattered door. 
 Then darkly deep spread terror's shade, 
 For out preparing in the glade 
 The men, or nearly all, had gone 
 As trappers for the season long.
 
 THE RETROSPECT. 51 
 
 But Reuben and my father strove 
 To fortify there in the grove 
 Our home, the strongest and the best 
 Built on the frontier of the west. 
 And there the scattered people came, 
 The young, the old, the weak, the lame ; 
 But when the men were counted o'er, 
 The stranger only numbered four. 
 
 . That day of days ! that awful day ! 
 The trembling crowd, with anxious flush, 
 Watched every movement of each bush ; 
 For every bush, to all the crowd, 
 Was but grim Death's dark lurking shroud ; 
 
 The wolves we kept at bay ! 
 Till day had measured out its span, 
 Then oh ! Death's carnival began ! 
 That night ! O night ! that horrid night ! 
 Oh, could but mercy quench that sight! 
 For when I see the leaping flame 
 The horrid vision turns my brain !
 
 52 T H E RETROSPECT. 
 
 Each Indian brought his fagot store, 
 
 By stealth, and placed them near the door ; 
 
 Then with a fiend's malignant ire 
 
 They lit that pile of dreadful fire ; 
 
 The smothered smoke soon told the tale, 
 
 How naught but daring could avail ; 
 
 The strong the weak sought to inspire 
 
 With hope, as higher rolled the fire ; 
 
 While all the hordes of open hell 
 
 It seemed, had joined the war-whoop yell. 
 
 Despair then nerved those arms of oak ; 
 But few and hurried words were spoke; 
 When wide the door was open flung ! 
 And quick to death ! and danger sprung ! 
 Bold, noble hearts, who sold their lives 
 To save their children and their wives. 
 But courage there could not avail ; 
 For I, of all that peopled dale, 
 
 Was left alone to tell 
 How by the blazing glare of light 
 They stood unequal in the fight ;
 
 THE RETROSPECT. 53 
 
 And how, at bay, each daring brave, 
 Without the power to strike or save, 
 By savage marksman fell. 
 
 Then, oh, the scene ! the scene I saw ! 
 
 No tiger ever licked his claw 
 
 For blood that from his victim flew 
 
 With half the zest those Indians drew 
 
 Of transport dark, while gloating o'er 
 
 Our writhing children's reeking gore ! 
 
 But from the house, when wrapped in flame, 
 
 The last of all, the stranger came ; 
 
 Not like a man, but raving wild, 
 
 He prayed for mercy like a child. 
 
 I swooned, 
 
 And when that night again 
 I saw through my bewildered brain, 
 The scene was changed, in that dark hour 
 It looked to me like Pluto's bower. 
 I saw a fire, a savage band, 
 In groups around a victim stand .
 
 54 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 I saw the stranger, tightly bound, 
 In torture writhing on the ground. 
 I heard his wild, his piercing cries; 
 I saw them sear his gleaming eyes; 
 Then with a fiendish impulse dire, 
 They cast him on their smouldering fire; 
 And danced the war-dance, in their pride, 
 Until their helpless victim died. 
 
 Then stirring up their fire, till late, 
 They wrangled o'er my trembling fate ; 
 When near a hideous Indian came, 
 A savage chief of bloody fame, 
 Who claimed, in English, that my life 
 He saved to be his pale-face wife. 
 Just then I saw the rifles' flash. 
 I screamed to hear their welcome crash. 
 Each friend had marked his savage well ; 
 For every flash an Indian fell. 
 Surprise, and consternation dread, 
 Dispersed the rest; all quickly fled,
 
 THE RETROSPECT. 55 
 
 Except the one that sought my charms ; 
 He grasped me in his brawny arms, 
 And strove to make my form his shield, 
 While backing, sullen, from the field. 
 
 But one there was among that train 
 Who never drew his mark in vain ; 
 I saw his face reflect the light, 
 As I have seen the moon by night 
 Reflect its cheering beams aglow 
 O'er hope's despairing paths below. 
 His shot was well reserved, to see 
 How best it might be used for me, 
 Then with a nerve-controlling will 
 He raised his rifle, calmly, still, 
 But I was made so close a screen 
 The Indian's form was scarcely seen : 
 At last his head showed but a trace, 
 A flash ! his brain besmeared my face ; 
 And I could draw sweet freedom's breath, 
 Though folded in the arms of death !
 
 56 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 The hunters came, but ah ! too late ! 
 Too late to change the doom of fate ! 
 They found but death around the place 
 Where all was life before the chase. 
 Then hard upon the savage trail 
 They pressed, to see what might avail, 
 But failed to reach the camp before 
 The tophet-dance of death was o'er. 
 As Reuben reconnoitred round 
 He saw me pinioned, on the ground, 
 Then gave in haste his hurried plan, 
 How every one should mark his man ; 
 That he alone would save me, there, 
 Or perish in that savage lair. 
 The work was done ; but oh, the sorrow ! 
 His all were gone, but me his Laura ; 
 And as I stood there breathing free, 
 He was the all fate left to me. 
 
 I soon became my Reuben's bride ; 
 Both one in love, naught could divide, 
 Till death removed him from my side,
 
 THE RETROSPECT. 57 
 
 And left me years ago 
 Alone in this cold world, to wait 
 Till we shall meet within that gate 
 Where Christ receives his own in state; 
 
 The ransomed from below. 
 
 The smoke that rose that tragic night 
 Rolled o'er and filled the land with friglit, 
 As when the Lord's avenger swept 
 Through Egypt's skies, while Egypt wept 
 Beneath those dripping wings of dread, 
 That left in every home its dead. 
 The frontiers mustered in their fright ; 
 The nation marched in martial might; 
 The drum, the fife, the trumpet's sound 
 Through days and nights re-echoed round ; 
 And told the tale, how savage war 
 Had roused the land from shore to shore. 
 
 My Reuben, like a star of fate, 
 
 Rose o'er the tumult grand and great ;
 
 58 THE' RETROSPECT. 
 
 His light became the guide of all 
 Who gathered at the nation's call : 
 And rapid as the meteors fly, 
 His brilliant course swept upward, high ; 
 Until he held supreme command 
 Of all the forces of this Ian ' . 
 His very presence seemed to fill 
 The soldiers with a dauntless will ; 
 While with a corresponding fear 
 The savage held his presence near ; 
 For some believed the spirit Death 
 Obeyed the white chief's flaming breath. 
 
 The war rolled on with fearful force; 
 Destruction widely strewed its course 
 With tattered wigwams, scattered graves, 
 Green couches of unnumbered braves, 
 Who fell believing valor's hand 
 Could purge the white man from their land. 
 But Reuben's soul was bowed in grief, 
 To see them fall, as falls the leaf,
 
 THE RETROSPECT. 59 
 
 And perish where they fell : 
 He sent to every tribe that bore 
 Their totem in that cruel war, 
 And bade them each their bravest gend, 
 To meet in council, friend with friend, 
 
 In kindly greeting well. 
 
 Time passed, but yet, at last they came ; 
 Dark, sullen chiefs, of horrid fame, 
 In all their war-paint's fierce display, 
 In blankets robed, in plumed array ; 
 With arrows, tomahawks, and knives, 
 And scalps displayed, that told the lives 
 Each dastard slew ; and how he tore 
 The vanquished victims of the war. 
 
 Arrangements then and there were made 
 To hold this council in the glade, 
 Where all was settled, as discreet, 
 That Indians and the whites should meet
 
 60 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 Unarmed, except each leader grand, 
 Who came arrayed as in command. 
 
 I saw that council ; 'twas at night ; 
 Within the centre, glowing rose 
 A fire that cast o'er friends and foes 
 
 A weird-like phantom light. 
 The Indians round, upon the ground, 
 Appeared like ogres; not a, sound 
 Fell from their lips ; while those who came 
 For us, commissioners of fame, 
 Seemed moved by every fleeting change, 
 Of novelties around them strange. 
 
 At last the General Reuben rose, 
 Eyed by his fierce, relentless foes, 
 And thus addressed, in mercy's strain, 
 Why peace should bless the land again : 
 
 " Ye braves ! to-night around this fire 
 We welcome every Indian sire !
 
 THE RETROSPECT. Q] 
 
 We meet you here to stay this wrong 
 
 That has accursed the land so long ! 
 
 No woman's spirit nerves the whites 
 
 When striking for their home, and rights ! 
 
 And well we know, a truth sincere, 
 
 An Indian never knew a fear ! 
 
 But much we grieve to see the hands 
 
 Of soldiers armed, with swords and brands ! 
 
 To see for naught your heroes die ! 
 
 To hear your helpless orphans cry ! 
 
 And now we pause to ask you why ! 
 
 Why shall we spread in death's array 
 
 Your braves as food for birds of prey? 
 
 Why shall they not live, love, and roam 
 
 In peace these forest glades their home? 
 
 Ye love your homes ! ye do them wrong 
 
 To battle with my people strong ! 
 
 They would not strike if you would give 
 
 Them friendship for their love, and live 
 
 In peace and faith like brothers should, 
 
 That dwell together in the wood !
 
 62 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 The same Great Spirit made us both ! 
 
 The same Great Father marks the growth, 
 
 Of all his children ! why shall we 
 
 Contend against a fixed decree ? 
 
 Why shall we not this slaughter cease? 
 
 And why not smoke the pipe of peace ? 
 
 Why bury not the hatchet here, 
 
 In honor, faith, in love sincere, 
 
 And live beneath those laws that shed 
 
 Their peaceful blessings o'er each head ?" 
 
 Then all was quiet ; not a breath 
 Seemed moving o'er a scene of death, 
 When like the rustling of the leaves 
 The great Plausawa, chief of chiefs, 
 Arose, and I remember well 
 That man who seemed an evil spell. 
 His form was over middle height ; 
 Compact, elastic, quick, and light ; 
 His features like a vulture's beak ; 
 An eagle-eye that well could seek
 
 THE RETROSPECT. 63 
 
 An unprotected place away, 
 
 Where he could swoop, and sweep his prey. 
 
 His face was painted red and blue ; 
 
 Around his graceful form he threw 
 
 A panther-skin ; a royal gear, 
 
 Of eagle plumes and beaver-fur, 
 
 Adorned his head ; while, girt, he wore 
 
 His deadly weapons used in war. 
 
 And there this man, of fortune ill, 
 
 Arose and thus expressed his will : 
 
 " Brave Sungernumby,* hear ye me ! 
 The Spirit Great but smiles when he 
 Beholds his red men roving free ! 
 Yes, roving in these woodlands deep 
 He gave his forest-sons to keep ! 
 Then why shall we that race admire 
 Who brought his people liquid fire?f 
 Who came with lightning! in their hand ! 
 
 Very strong man.* f Whiskey. J Fire-arms.
 
 64 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 Who came to desolate the land ! 
 Whose love is in their blazing brand ! 
 A race before whose blighting tread 
 Our food, the forest game, has fled. 
 Brave Sungernumby ! you behold 
 In me the chieftain of this wold ; 
 You know me well ! for I command 
 The tribes around on every hand, 
 And in their name I tell you plain, 
 This land must yet be theirs again ! 
 Two men once met when in the sky 
 The eye of day was rolling high ; 
 The first, four moons, had wandered forth, 
 The howling spirit of the north : 
 His hair and beard of frosty white 
 Fell round a form of brawny might; 
 And he all homage would command, 
 As frost-chief of the frozen land. 
 The younger one, of blushing mould, 
 Who met this hoary figure cold,
 
 THE RETROSPECT. 65 
 
 Wore on his head a wreath of flowers, 
 The happy child of blooming bowers ; 
 Around whose spirit-form did cling 
 All fruitful blossoms, born of spring. 
 They met, these men, and built a blaze, 
 To talk to each of other days; 
 But as the first his story told 
 The second felt a blighting cold 
 Around his heart ; and in despair 
 He almost fell a victim there. 
 The spirit white, by power strong, 
 Claimed all must by that right belong 
 To him ! for I can check the way, 
 He said, and mine shall be the sway ! 
 If I a river meet, but thrice 
 I blow my breath, when on the ice 
 I cross the stream, and 'neath my feet 
 The ground becomes a frozen sleet ; 
 And all must yield where'er I go, 
 I bind with ice, and shroud with snow ! 
 5
 
 66 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 The ruddy Spirit-of-the-Spring 
 Smiled as he heard the braggart fling 
 A challenge out, for life or death, 
 Then calmly blew his perfumed breath, 
 When down he saw on either side 
 The boaster's arms in currents glide, 
 Who passed as mountain-mist away ; 
 While Spring remained in full array. 
 Your words are smooth, great mighty chief, 
 But words can never give relief 
 When Indian children cry for bread ! 
 And can an Indian Jay his head 
 In peace upon his land of shame, 
 From whence the Pale-face drove the game 
 And left him naught, but like a squaw, 
 To live beneath the white man's law ? 
 Your words are strong, but while we blow 
 The breath of war your blood shall flow ! 
 Like water ! till we drive you home ! 
 Back from these forests where we roam !"
 
 THE RETROSPECT. 67 
 
 " I'm sorry," Reuben then replied, 
 
 " To hear Plausawa now decide 
 
 To struggle on, in useless strife ; 
 
 To waste away the red man's life. 
 
 My people, like the drops of rain, 
 
 Are numberless, o'er hill and plain ! 
 
 And like the flood's resistless power 
 
 When thunders roll ! and torrents shower ! 
 
 They surging come ! and naught below 
 
 Can stay that freshet's onward flow ! 
 
 Pause ! pause, ye braves ! and think before 
 
 You give your counsel still for war ! 
 
 Pause ere you send Death in his wrath, 
 
 To scorch, like lightni ig, every path ! 
 
 The white man woul'i not strike you down ; 
 
 You need not live beneath his frown ; 
 
 We speak for peace, that all may rove 
 
 Like brothers through this mighty grove ! 
 
 Remember how the whirlwinds sweep 
 
 The forests from the lofty steep ! 
 
 So will the war sweep hill and plain 
 
 If we unbind its force ao;ain !
 
 68 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 But if we bid these sorrows cease ; 
 If we but pass the pipe of peace ; 
 Its smoke will like the rainbow's cast, 
 Rejoicing tell the storm has passed. 
 We offer peace, that it may cheer 
 The mother's hope the children's fear; 
 And turn the heart of every brave 
 Toward his home, and not his grave. 
 Let every warrior pause and think ! 
 For now ye stand upon the brink 
 Where but a step ! you may too late 
 Forever seal your nation's fate ! 
 These brothers great, who gather near, 
 Have come to see ! to talk ! and hear 
 From every brave that burning grief, 
 For which by war he seeks relief !" 
 
 Then came a pause, long and profound, 
 
 Each heart beat its own muffled sound ; 
 
 But none their hope betrayed.
 
 THE RETROSPECT. 69 
 
 It seemed the angel dark of death 
 Was hov'ring o'er, and filled the breath 
 
 Of every savage with despair, 
 As they the time delayed. 
 
 They saw unmoved Plausawa's air, 
 As he arose and sternly said, 
 
 " My answer, braves, is but this knife !" 
 Then raised aloft his scalping blade, 
 
 That terror of my life. 
 The Indians all on ruin bent 
 Responded, grunting their assent ; 
 When Reuben rose, but no reply, 
 
 He calmly drew his shining sword, 
 Then scanning round, he raised it high, 
 
 Accepting war without a word. 
 
 Fierce, wild, and dread, the struggle rolled; 
 O'er mountains, plains, when uncontrolled 
 Contention lit again the brand ; 
 Extermination stalked the land ; 
 When armed for death was every hand,
 
 70 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 Until Plausawa sank beneath 
 
 The war-cloud, on his wasted heath. 
 
 From that time on, whene'er I dwell 
 
 Upon the past, it seems a spell 
 
 Has wrought the wondrous changes wide 
 
 I see around on every side. 
 
 Below, a fort once held the ground, 
 
 From whence we hear, like swarming bees, 
 The hum of yon great city's round 
 
 Arising high on every breeze ; 
 That tells how peace now bids them drive 
 Their business in that busy hive. 
 
 Yes, on a field of blood it grew, 
 This city for the conflict drew 
 The men of every clime and cast 
 Together in the distant past. 
 There followed, first, the martial train, 
 A motley throng, for good or gain ;
 
 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 Like cormorants some, to seek th' yield, 
 
 As vultures seek the battle-field : 
 
 To pluck the savage of his right ; 
 
 To rob the soldier of his mite ; 
 
 By every means to gather in 
 
 The price of sorrow, shame, or sin. 
 
 The honest trader ; and a crowd 
 Of restless spirits, true and proud, 
 Of stirring men, impulsive, strong, 
 At home alone in hurry's throng ; 
 And those who must excitement drink ; 
 Although it dripped from terror's brink. 
 
 And then, again, the blessed few ; 
 Moved only by kind feelings true. 
 Samaritans, who sought to bind 
 The cruel wounds war left behind. 
 They came commissioned from above, 
 Guides to the land of hallow'd love.
 
 72 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 Where wars, and wounds, afflict no more 
 The ransomed on that deathless shore. 
 
 The conflict o'er, the varied scope 
 Of every soldier found its hope, 
 Some, who had longed to reach the dome 
 Of peace parental, wandered home ; 
 While many laid their armor down 
 And stopped, to build the growing town. 
 
 Crude was the hamlet first indeed 
 That rose to serve the moment's need, 
 Of shanties, huts, and cabins small ; 
 The rover's lodge, the trader's stall ; 
 Of boards, and logs, in rough array, 
 Built only for the pressing day. 
 But as the land filled up around, 
 As fields of culture clothed the ground, 
 The hamlet to a village grew ; 
 For trade toward this centre drew :
 
 THE RETROSPECT. 73 
 
 And as the village gained renown 
 The place became a trading town. 
 
 I saw in all that social flow, 
 That great commingling tide below, 
 How man, with man, when left alone, 
 Was to his reckless nature prone. 
 But woman came, and like the dew 
 
 That falls amid the shades of gloom, 
 Her gentle presence softly threw 
 
 A suasion round, that called in bloom 
 The buds of every manly part 
 That hidden lies within his heart. 
 He reared his home in better style, 
 
 He robed himself in better taste, 
 His boisterous laugh became a smile, 
 
 Frugality succeeded waste ; 
 He made the desert as a rose 
 
 To bloom along her gentle way ; 
 The world around was all repose 
 
 Beneath her kind, her loving sway ;
 
 74 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 Like oil upon the troubled sea, 
 
 She calmed the current of his mind ; 
 
 She bid his stormy passions flee, 
 And gave us social man refined. 
 
 Then came those days of great unrest, 
 When all the world seemed moving West ; 
 When there, a stream of people run 
 Like Pilgrims to the setting sun : 
 And as this road was of its class 
 The best across the mountain-pass, 
 Here poured that ever-ceaseless tide, 
 That drained the country far and wide, 
 And bore, or so it seemed, a trace, 
 Of every clime and every race, 
 A headlong, heedless swarm. 
 Old age came tottering on his staff; 
 The youth would pass with merry laugh ; 
 The jaded mother, and her child, 
 Went dragging on toward the wild ;
 
 THE RETROSPECT. 75 
 
 A frail, too oft, and helpless band, 
 To break a wild, unsettled land 
 And brave privation's storm. 
 
 But as the current onward rolled, 
 
 Some, like the patriarchs of old, 
 
 Moved flocks and herds, and well prepared 
 
 They bore their tents, the herdsmen shared ; 
 
 And seemed, indeed, but to repeat 
 
 In substance Abram's life complete. 
 
 Then, too, the heavy teams would pass, 
 The symbols of another class ; 
 Hale farmers, solid men of worth, 
 Whose skilful hands control the earth, 
 
 Their wagons, on the road, 
 Were all broad-wheeled, and iron-bound, 
 Less prone to cut the swarded ground ; 
 
 And built to bear a load. 
 Their shapes were mostly curved below, 
 Much like an upturned flattened bow ;
 
 76 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 While overhead were arches bent 
 And roofed with canvas like a tent, 
 To shield the old, to house the young, 
 Who still around the mother clung ; 
 While by their side, along the road, 
 The farmer trudged, or driving strode 
 A wheel-horse, chosen from a breed 
 Of strength, peculiar, for his need. 
 
 And then would come the humble cart, 
 That served a poor, ambitious heart, 
 Whose wife and babe perched up before, 
 The sum of all his earthly store, 
 Went with him, toiling on, to find 
 The Eldorado of his mind. 
 
 And in the stream the pack-mule passed, 
 A het'rogeneous pile amassed ; 
 A grand display of human skill 
 Which made the means at hand fulfil
 
 THE RETROSPECT. 77 
 
 Their dire need ; and with surprise, 
 I've watched them oft with puzzled eyes, 
 To see how such a varied load 
 Could keep together on the road. 
 The loads were mixed, of bedding, tools, 
 And grindstones, packed upon the mules ; 
 With axes, scythes, and earthenware, 
 And stoves, and tins, for household care ; 
 The food the owner most would need 
 Along the road, and bags of seed, 
 All lashed around so close and tight 
 The beast was scarcely left in sight. 
 
 And then, the ox-team's movements slow 
 Was ever in that ceaseless flow ; 
 While falling still behind the throng 
 It dragged its measured pace along, 
 A gait so sluggish none could stand, 
 Except it moved towards a land 
 O'er which Hope cast that phantom beam 
 That dazzles every dreamer's dream.
 
 78 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 But when at last the sun for rest 
 Rolled down the confines of the west, 
 Then for the night a halt was made, 
 On mountain, road, or in the glade, 
 As chanced the travellers, there they stayed 
 
 And lit their evening fire : 
 Where all the labors round were shared ; 
 The mother and the young prepared 
 The evening meal ; while men with care 
 Groomed all their horses, spread their fare, 
 
 And did what might require 
 Sucli things as needed strength of frame ; 
 As hewing wood to feed their flame, 
 
 Which burned the night entire. 
 For every camp a watcher's blaze 
 Kept for its night-protecting rays ; 
 While all the wayworn sought their sleep 
 
 In wagons round on nature's breast, 
 Save those who did the vigil keep : 
 
 Then onward for the West!
 
 THE RETROSPECT. 79 
 
 Yes, sought their rest, a precious prize 
 
 To honest toilers of the clod ! 
 Who turn to God their hopeful eyes, 
 
 Though resting on their native sod ! 
 But what a place ! a dreary blight! 
 
 Are beds of down when revel's brain 
 Seeks for repose, as fades the night 
 
 That marks a soul with sorrow's stain. 
 Sleep comes not when the conscience burns 
 
 The brand of doom upon the heart, 
 Nor silken shades, nor scented urns, 
 
 Can bid the evil haunt depart. 
 But to the man whose life is spent 
 In worthy deeds of good intent, 
 There comes within his honest breast 
 A calm, that gives a peaceful rest. 
 Rest for the weary ! what a sound ! 
 
 It seems an echo from the sky, 
 While guardian angels wait around, 
 
 To guide a fleeting soul on high.
 
 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 But as I've called in quick review 
 Those passing groups, like pictures new, 
 I gave but scenes when skies were fair, 
 Withholding those of dark despair 
 That daily came before the eye, 
 Among the hapless passers-by. 
 But time has never once effaced 
 A single scene that anguish traced 
 Upon my heart when forced to stay, 
 Beholding wrecks along the way, 
 
 Like one who from her sea-girt home 
 Appalling ! sees, beneath the frown 
 Of storming clouds, a bark go down ; 
 All helpless, while the hopeless drown 
 
 Amid the seething foam !
 
 CANTO III. 
 
 THE moon, round as an ancient shield, 
 Full, argent burnished, held the field 
 
 Against the hosts of night. 
 Eclipsed were all, save but a few 
 Bright, glowing stars, that kept in view 
 
 The glory of their light. 
 But of the group none marked the time, 
 None marked the glowing scene sublime 
 All listened to the tales as told 
 Of their determined kindred old, 
 Who, with their brave compatriots bold, 
 Had settled first this trackless wold, 
 
 In days long passed away : 
 And listening looked, in reverent awe, 
 On her who all those changes saw, 
 
 As she resumed the lay. 
 
 (i 81
 
 82 T *H K RETROSPECT. 
 
 While in the West the mingling throng 
 Implanted firm an empire strong ; 
 Its days, at first, saw thousands there 
 Arrive to perish in despair : 
 For few indeed, who felt the hand 
 
 Of poverty, could find again 
 The means, or strength, to reach the land 
 
 They left, to swell the westward train ; 
 For through the country, scattered wide, 
 The onward, outward, selfish tide 
 Had calmly learned to coldly see 
 Privations in their worst degree. 
 
 I well remember, now, the time, 
 'Twas in the Summer's middle prime, 
 
 A drought, when days were warm, 
 Had lingered long, when looming high 
 Along the margin of the sky 
 All things appeared ; forewarning nigh 
 
 A coming eastern storm.
 
 THE RETROSPECT. g3 
 
 It was indeed a busy day ; 
 The farmers strove to guard the hay, 
 To stack the grain, and well prepare 
 Against the threatened winds with care. 
 At last, toward the evening hour, 
 Plutonic-black, began to lower 
 Both east and west with swelling storms, 
 Which rolling came like mountain forms 
 Arrayed to meet, and filled with woe 
 All living things on earth below. 
 The wild beasts for a refuge fled ; 
 The cattle hurried home in dread ; 
 While men who had the taste and time 
 Beheld a scene at once sublime. 
 The massive clouds approaching rolled 
 Wild as the flocks that left the fold, 
 Impelled by some appalling fright, 
 Or like the eagles in their flight, 
 The ragged racks careered on high ; 
 Until they deeply veiled the sky.
 
 84 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 Then for a moment nature stood, 
 As armies, breathless, ere the strife 
 
 Arouses up the fiend of blood, 
 To revel in the waste of life. 
 
 No breath of air, the very leaf 
 
 Stood motionless, a moment brief, 
 
 When 'thwart the dome the lightning flashed ;- 
 
 The simultaneous thunders crashed ; 
 
 While circling gusts came sweeping by 
 
 That twirled the dust and leaves on high, 
 
 Until the big descending rain 
 
 Drove all things back to earth again. 
 
 The lightnings flashed ; the thunders roared 
 Continuous, while the showers poured ; 
 As if indeed old Jove, in might, 
 Was storming every mountain-height ; 
 Or Noah's days had come again, 
 A deluge in the falling rain ; 
 And this terrific scene of awe, 
 Surpassing all I ever saw,
 
 THE RETROSPECT. 35 
 
 Continued in its might and power 
 Until the night's deep middle hour. 
 
 'Twas on that wild, tempestuous night 
 Two women, with a babe, in fright, 
 Within our barn a refuge sought, 
 All drenched, for they were tempest caught ; 
 
 And near appeared their end. 
 Dark was their gloom, and deep their care, 
 The storm, their want, their blank despair : 
 And death-like sickness, too, was there, 
 
 And they without a friend. 
 But He who hears the raven's cry 
 Neglected not the prayerful sigh, 
 
 But proved a friend indeed. 
 For Reuben, from his steady course, 
 Was moved by some resistless force 
 
 To serve their pressing need. 
 Impelled, or by an impulse led, 
 He rose and left his midnight bed
 
 86 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 To go and see if aught befell 
 The cattle housed, if all were well. 
 For sleep had fled, he could not stay 
 Until the coming dawn of day. 
 
 As Reuben went, on drawing nigh, 
 
 He heard a baby's sickly cry 
 
 Come from the barn ; and then a song, 
 
 The words were mixed with sobs along 
 
 The lines, that bore a strange refrain ; 
 
 Attuned to some pathetic strain. 
 
 It seemed to cease, and then a cry, 
 
 And then the mother's sob, and sigh, 
 
 All blending in this lullaby : 
 
 Hush, my baby ! though the thunder 
 Tore the storming clouds asunder, 
 Pouring down their deluge under, 
 
 God the Father ruled the sky. 
 
 Hush, my baby ! hush, my baby ! 
 
 God is love, and ever nigh.
 
 THE RETROSPECT. 87 
 
 Stars, while clouds above were weeping, 
 Still were shining, never sleeping, 
 Hovering angels watch were keeping, 
 
 While the tempest rent the air. 
 Hush, my baby ! hush, my baby ! 
 
 Angels watched my darling fair. 
 
 Dews of evening feed the flowers ; 
 Growing harvests drink the showers ; 
 Little baby's brightest hours 
 
 Come in love's own peaceful rest, 
 Hush, my baby ! hush, my baby ! 
 
 Sleeping on its mother's breast. 
 
 Little bees will gather houey 
 
 When the days are bright and sunny, 
 
 Baby's boon, unbought for money, 
 
 Is its sleep without a fear : 
 
 Hush, my baby ! hush, my baby ! 
 
 Is its sleep with Jesus near.
 
 88 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 Daily hours have told their number ; 
 
 Butterflies in roses slumber ; 
 
 Nothing should thy dreams encumber; 
 
 Blessful dreams from realms "above. 
 Hush, my baby ! hush, my baby I 
 
 Lord of mercy guard my love ! 
 
 When Reuben paused to learn the why 
 Of all those sobs, that sickly cry, 
 He heard, while moving round with care, 
 Behind the mow, a stifled prayer 
 Come from a woman pleading wild, 
 That God would save a dying child. 
 
 It was a breaking heart that poured 
 Her plea to Him her soul adored, 
 
 As few have ever prayed : 
 For with the child she craved for one 
 
 The hand of mercy's tender care ; 
 For one, the widow of her son, 
 
 So true, so young, so fair.
 
 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 So true, whose steps had been delayed 
 By filial love's unselfish arm 
 That strove to shield, from every harm, 
 Her tottering age through dread's alarm ; 
 And then again her prayer grew wild, 
 " Oh, let me perish ! Save the child !" 
 
 Then back, with quick impatient speed, 
 Came Reuben from that place of need ; 
 Came bidding me arise ! for Death 
 Was waiting for a lingering breath ! 
 While one was sending prayers on high 
 That she mio-ht for another die ! 
 
 But then an anxious care arose 
 Between us, how we might disclose 
 The fact that coming aid was near, 
 Lest we might terror add to fear. 
 I bid him sing, I knew that voice 
 Could make despair itself rejoice.
 
 90 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 I knew it. well ! its force was clear, 
 As sounds the trumpet through the air 
 When cheering on in martial might 
 His braves, recoiling in the fight, 
 Or soft in peace, as sighs the flute ; 
 Or gentle as the lover's lute ; 
 When friendship, or when mercy's call 
 Had roused a heart that throbbed for all. 
 
 Then rich in cadence, softly clear, 
 He raised a grand, sweet, sacred air ; 
 Which rolled like swelling notes that bore 
 God's promise to a shipwreck shore. 
 I never heard him sing again 
 
 So like an angel, as it rung 
 Clear, yet subdued, that blest refrain 
 
 When thus ray noble Reuben sung : 
 
 Oh ! bear to the Saviour your burden of sorrow, 
 His all-searching eye is beholding your grief;
 
 THE RETROSPECT. 91 
 
 Though night's sable shadows are dark, yet the 
 
 morrow 
 Is sure by His promise to bring its relief. 
 
 Though wild beat the tempest, though wild winds 
 were blowing, 
 
 The Lord o'er His children was watching below ; 
 And from the free fountains of grace, overflowing, 
 
 He sends the rich blessings His mercies bestow. 
 
 Beyond the world's darkness forever is shining 
 That Light o'er the billows of sorrow and gloom ; 
 
 Where love, and where faith, and where grace, all 
 
 combining, 
 Will guide to their glory the blest of the tomb. 
 
 Then trust to the Master each heart of affliction, 
 The Lord calls His own beloved children to come ; 
 
 And He will reward with that blest benediction, 
 That fits u.s to dwell in His glorified home.
 
 92 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 While time shall last, I'll ne'er forget 
 The scene, within the barn, we saw, 
 On entering there, I see it yet ! 
 
 The woman ! babe ! the scattered straw ! 
 Recalled to me in majesty 
 My dream of the nativity. 
 A woman young, of queenly grace, 
 Was on her knees, her hallow'd face 
 Was all aglow, her soft blue eyes 
 Were raised, to supplicate the skies. 
 Love swayed the soul ; it was not fear 
 Which brought the gush, the sparkling tear, 
 That fell upon her faded child ; 
 I saw it turned but once, and smiled, 
 As first, amid the gloom of night, 
 It caught our lantern's sudden light; 
 Then fainted on its mother's breast, 
 Like one in death's eternal rest. 
 
 And then the ag6d saint was there, 
 Relieved, and strengthened, for her prayer
 
 THE RETROSPECT. 93 
 
 Had brought a peace unknown to those 
 Who stand as God's rebellious foes. 
 Calm was her brow, her spirit won 
 
 Faith's resignation from on high ; 
 Calm as when storms their course have run 
 
 And left to peace a cloudless sky, 
 Where glory's hosts triumphant shine, 
 With all their radiant lights divine. 
 
 Yet haggard was her face, it bore 
 Deep marks of dread privation sore ; 
 While with a modesty refined 
 She still displayed her cultured mind, 
 In striving to excuse, with grace, 
 Their storm-forced trespass in the place. 
 But with a word, a kindly word, 
 We checked her story half unheard; 
 And bid them move with instant speed, 
 For we had learned their helpless need 
 And both in urgent haste had come, 
 With help, with comfort, and a home.
 
 94 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 Oh ! such a scene ! when grief, repressed, 
 Is turned to joy in sorrow's breast, 
 
 I never saw before. 
 
 The wringing hands. the gushing eyes, 
 The stifled words, the broken cries, 
 Gave thankful tokens of surprise 
 
 At mercy's gifts in store. 
 
 And when toward the babe we turned, 
 Aglow ray heart with pity burned ; 
 For Death, to all appearance there, 
 Had marked that tiny bud to deck 
 His march of ruin o'er the wreck, 
 Where buried lay the old and fair, 
 Beneath the ploughman's thoughtless share. 
 
 But care, and watchfulness, and prayer, 
 All night in earnest, constant strife, 
 
 Did much ere morning to repair 
 That flick'ring flame of life.
 
 THE RETROSPECT. 95 
 
 For with the dawn the lengthened breath 
 Proclaimed our triumph over Death, 
 And health returning gave again 
 The child to soothe the mother's pain. 
 
 But she who kindly, grandly gave 
 Her life, a sacrifice to save 
 The little babe, we quickly saw 
 
 Had been accepted in its stead ; 
 An offering free, to fill the law 
 
 That gives to Death his numbered dead, 
 Yes, passed away to realms of peace 
 Where cares, and tears, and sorrows cease, 
 Yes, called to furl her time was o'er 
 Life's tattered sails on Jordan's shore, 
 To find above, at Glory's shrine, 
 The saint's eternal rest divine. 
 
 FAITH was her name, and of that stock 
 Who followed those of Plymouth rock ;
 
 96 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 Strong, earnest men, a sturdy race 
 Who every danger dared to face 
 
 That crossed their honest path : 
 Be it a wrong to freedom's right; 
 An ill that might their conscience blight; 
 Or war's wild raging, when the fight 
 
 Terrific rolls in wrath. 
 But she was gentle as a dove, 
 Calm in her faith, strong in her love; 
 And ever ready stood to share 
 With others all their toiling care. 
 
 And strangely checkered was her life, 
 Its joys were few, and much its strife ; 
 Her maidenhood, of happy years, 
 Were spent without affliction's tears. 
 But scarcely had she reached that hour 
 When youthful bliss, beneath the bovver 
 Of nuptial love, in love reclining, 
 Building castles, all divining, 
 Deemed earth's cares were o'er,
 
 THE RETROSPECT. 97 
 
 When o'er New England widely spread 
 The Revolution's cloud of dread, 
 
 That told of coming war. 
 I've heard her tell, how on the night 
 Preceding Bunker Hill's fierce fight, 
 She heard the constant, steady tramp, 
 Of soldiers marching to the camp, 
 For Charlestown was her home, and there 
 
 The yeomanry of Freedom came, 
 In all their conscious power, to dare 
 
 Great Britain's bands of martial fame: 
 And first in Freedom's host to go 
 Her husband sped, to meet the foe , 
 Sped on that night, and left alone 
 His youthful wife and babe at home. 
 
 That night, in terror's deep dismay, 
 She waited, weary, for the ray 
 Of morning ; when, behold, around 
 The hills were seen with ramparts crowned ; 
 A challenge to the foe.
 
 98 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 A challenge to the royal host, 
 
 Who launched, to charge the rebel coast, 
 
 And lay rebellion low. 
 She saw them land and charge the hill ; 
 
 She saw them storm the strong redoubt ; 
 She saw the might of Freedom's will 
 
 When Death's wild flash rolled fiercely out, 
 And mowed the soldiers of the crown, 
 As reapers sweep the harvest down. 
 Recoiling back, they charged again, 
 Like wild waves from the angry main ; 
 Then back, again in terror bore, 
 As breakers from a rock-bound shore: 
 Again, till legions fell again, 
 That tyrants might a land enchain. 
 
 The while, firm anchored on the tide, 
 Lay England's royal oaks of pride, 
 
 Like monsters of the deep. 
 Aroused, their guns all charged with shell, 
 They opened ports, when fires of hell
 
 THE RETROSPECT. 99 
 
 Blazed from their sides against the shore ; 
 Their thunders swelled with awful roar ; 
 While Charlestown, all to sate their ire, 
 From hearth to roof, was wrapt in fire 
 
 That skyward strove to leap. 
 She saw her home in embers smoke; 
 She found her husband, but he spoke 
 No more to her ; by Warren's side 
 He bravely fought, and nobly died. 
 
 There was her home in ashes spread. 
 
 Flown was her hope, her husband dead : 
 
 Her all on earth were gone, save one 
 
 Poor tiny thing, a helpless son 
 
 A helpless child, where all could trace 
 
 The impress of its father's face, 
 
 Alone, was left by fate, to throw 
 
 A blessing o'er her path of woe. 
 
 Her tale was one so often told, 
 
 It seemed a theme of sorrows old,
 
 100 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 A toiling widow sighs and tears 
 An anxious mother's hopes and fears 
 Her doubt of every thoughtful plan, 
 Until her boy became a man. 
 
 Then bright again her star arose, 
 
 To herald in a hopeful day, 
 With every promise of repose, 
 
 With filial love's resplendent ray. 
 Such love as cheers the mother's heart, 
 As blunts the point of sorrow's dart, 
 As smooths the rugged round of life 
 In all its ceaseless whirl of strife. 
 E'en in his choice, a fortune rare 
 Came with his bride, a Christian fair ; 
 A guide, a stay, a gem was she, 
 Of every selfish impulse free ; 
 A wife to him, a daughter blest 
 
 To Faith's old age: like Ruth sublime 
 She gave her arm, a stay of rest, 
 
 Supporting down the paths of time
 
 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 The mother of that one, above, 
 Whose mem'ry bound their deathless love. 
 So bound as one, their home was strong; 
 Love there reposed without a wrong ; 
 
 No jealousy, no jarring strife : 
 No poison-fang to mar or blight, 
 They knew naught but the path of right ; 
 
 The mother, son, and wife. 
 But then that season of unrest 
 Illumed their fancy for the West, 
 For they believed in faith, as true, 
 The phantasies that Fortune drew ; 
 And swelled the tide, that rolled away, 
 Along the onward course of day. 
 
 They found, indeed, the forest grand ! 
 But then that wild, unbroken land 
 Required the firm, the steady hand 
 
 Of might, to break the virgin sod ; 
 While all their strength was that of mind, 
 Their statures all were light, refined, 
 
 111 suited to the clod.
 
 102 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 But with undaunted courage true 
 
 The father built their forest home ; 
 With comforts equalled there by fe\v, 
 
 And bravely broke the stubborn loam ; 
 When fell Disease, with blighting breath, 
 Came as the messenger of Death, 
 Came with his deep, dark, sullen frown, 
 And struck the man with fever down. 
 
 I've heard their story, o'er and o'er, 
 
 How many an anxious, trembling hour 
 They watched ; and how the patient bore 
 
 The fever's raging, wasting power : 
 And how he firmly clung to life, 
 With hope, to shield his babe and wife, 
 And mother, where a savage race 
 Disputed every right of place. 
 
 I've heard them tell, how, when the hand 
 Of Death he felt, with dauntless nerve,
 
 THE RETROSPECT. 1Q3 
 
 He bid them sell their stock and land ; : 
 And told which horse they should reserve 
 
 To draw them back whence they had come, 
 
 To build among their friends a home. 
 
 IVe heard them tell, how dark the day, 
 
 When in his narrow couch of clay, 
 They laid the father down ; 
 
 And how they both in anguish turned 
 
 Heart-broken from the home he earned, 
 To meet misfortune's frown. 
 
 Their steed, howe'er, surpassed by few, 
 For step, for strength, for kindness true, 
 Gave both, with each succeeding day, 
 New confidence along the way ; 
 Until at last, before their gaze 
 They saw the lofty mountains raise 
 
 Like bulwarks to the very sky ; 
 Where Giants might their revels keep 
 On every castellated steep, 
 
 Appalling to the eye.
 
 104 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 I knew, myself, their road, so grand ! 
 Just as it was when nature's hand 
 
 Had rent the rocks in twain ! 
 Or had, perhaps, in better mood, 
 The hardship of the way subdued, 
 
 Down to a level plain. 
 I've gone with Reuben often o'er 
 Their very road, in days of yore, 
 Before the vandal hand of man, 
 With many an engineering plan, 
 
 Despoiled rich beauty's store. 
 
 Description never can enhance 
 Those scenes in fact, or in romance. 
 Terrific ! wild ! the valleys deep 
 Would terrify or from a steep 
 Grand landscapes, that all words defy, 
 Burst forth on man's enraptured eye ; 
 
 Remembered evermore ! 
 
 Oft would the road, through some wild glen, 
 Wind round a fern-bound mossy fen,
 
 THE RETROSPECT. 105 
 
 Or lead, where naught but slippery clay, 
 From leaping cascades' scattered spray, 
 Became, through gorges darkly deep, 
 But doubtful footing, hard to keep ; 
 And then, again, would slowly climb 
 To those broad scenes, so rich, sublime ! 
 Of which I spoke before. 
 
 These anxious women, with their child, 
 
 By toiling on, had nearly gained 
 The boundary stream, that does divide 
 
 The rugged from the rolling side, 
 Before the close of day. 
 
 For from the peak, that last remained, 
 They saw the winding river run, 
 
 Just like a golden thread that drained 
 Its color from the setting sun : 
 But long they found the road, that lay 
 In zigzags down the mountain way, 
 Consumed the fleeting time before 
 They forded to the distant shore, 
 Beneath the twilight's ray.
 
 106 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 And yet, though worn, with eager chase 
 They forward press'd, to reach the place 
 
 Of some encamping outward train ; 
 For as they crossed the ford they found 
 Two footpads on the rising ground, 
 
 That thrilled with terror every vein. 
 The scoundrels begged, but all could see 
 Some deep design beneath their plea ; 
 When startled by the rapid tread 
 Of horsemen, both the villains fled, 
 As if they, too, would cross by flight 
 The ford, before the fall of night. 
 
 But fear possessed each woman's thought : 
 Protection's hand was what they sought, 
 On! on they pushed ! but all in vain; 
 They found encamped no coming train ; 
 And forced at last, in sheer dismay, 
 Strove hard to hide themselves away. 
 Deep, there, within a gorge they drove, 
 Where trees, and vines, and chaparral,
 
 THE RETROSPECT. 1Q7 
 
 Commingling formed a darksome grove, 
 
 Like those where wolves and panthers dwell ; 
 But sooner would they trust the den 
 Of preying beasts than prowling men. 
 
 Poor souls ! that night, terrific night ! 
 Hid, crouching, trembling, all afright, 
 They waited for the morning light 
 
 In terror's depths of gloom. 
 Nor were they wrong ; at last they heard 
 The sound of voices, sounds they feared, 
 
 Pronounce their coming doom. 
 They heard vile disappointment's oath ; 
 They heard the counter-plans of both ; 
 As they were forced, with stifled breath, 
 To hear the villains argue death. 
 One argued murder ; for, he said, 
 Naught keeps a secret like the blade ; 
 And that their every plan might fail 
 If one was left to tell the tale.
 
 108 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 The other strove against the knife, 
 And held it but a craven shame 
 To take a helpless woman's life, 
 
 When plunder was alone the game. 
 That rob they could, and travel on, 
 Afar in safety ere the dawn. 
 Just then their restless horse revealed 
 The place where all had been concealed ; 
 And brought the robbers on their prey, 
 While turning from the search away. 
 
 I've seen these women deathly pale, 
 Rehearsing o'er their frightful tale ; 
 Of how the would-be-murderer swore,- 
 How hope seemed gone for evermore r 
 When fiercely with his purpose set, 
 The fiend, to carry out his threat, 
 
 Rushed forth to strike the blow. 
 And how his comrade, moved aright, 
 With what appeared a giant's might,
 
 THE RETROSPECT. JQ9 
 
 Hurled back, in boisterous fury wild, 
 The worthless dastard, like a child, 
 
 Among the brambles low. 
 And how the craven came, in fear, 
 Back, cringing, like a punished cur, 
 To make his act a jest appear ; 
 
 With doubtful step, and slow. 
 
 Though left unhurt yet robbed they were 
 Of all but life, and dark despair ; 
 
 A babe and helpless women twain ! 
 Their tale would bring but tears to hear 
 Each day of hardship, hope, and fear; 
 Until that stormy night severe, 
 
 When thunders, lightnings, rush of rain, 
 
 Drove in their wild alarm 
 The three beneath our hand of care, 
 To find, when all seemed but despair, 
 
 A covert free from harm.
 
 HO THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 The child grew well, the fatal spark, 
 
 Of death, had reached another mark ; 
 
 Had reached that heart who pleading gave 
 
 Herself a sacrifice, to save 
 
 The little life, that he might be 
 
 A solace on the mother's knee, 
 
 And well he proved, in after-years, 
 
 A recompense most richly given, 
 To her whose love, through toil and tears, 
 
 Had blest a soul that soared to heaven. 
 
 The failing grandma's forced delay 
 Forever checked their homeward way ; 
 
 To meet each day's demand, 
 Brave Grace determined, while she stayed, 
 To try her skill and thrift at trade ; 
 And though she came with many a tear, 
 The smiles of Fortune kept her here, 
 
 An honor to the Land.
 
 CANTO IV. 
 
 SWIFT rolled the time the hour was late, 
 Yet still the ancient queen held state; 
 While round, her maids-of-honor fair 
 Had clustered near the royal chair 
 In loving mood with tender care. 
 Nor marked they how the moments flew ; 
 Who heeds the time when tales are new ? 
 And these to them were stories true. 
 One held her hand, some found a seat, 
 Like Paul at great Gamaliel's feet, 
 While all, without art's skilful care, 
 Had formed a group beyond compare. 
 
 Then to her band this sovereign said : 
 " Time flies, and I have long delayed, 
 So I will not the time employ 
 
 With tales about the growing boy, 
 
 111
 
 112 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 And all you cousins here can tell, 
 Can all from certain knowledge draw 
 
 The stories of his manhood well, 
 Your grandsire and my son-in-law ! 
 
 His fame has spread from shore to shore. 
 Where mountains rise and oceans roar. 
 In Senate of the nation great, 
 Executive of this grand State, 
 A minister of high report 
 Where England's Crown holds royal court ;- 
 And proudly all the people tell 
 How honestly he served them well. 
 In politics he stood supreme 
 For honest worth and noble mien 
 Among that class which, sad to say, 
 Seems destined soon to pass away. 
 
 I've oft rejoiced I've often told 
 
 How much improved are things of old;
 
 THE RETROSPECT. H3 
 
 And yet it grieves me to behold 
 
 Corruptions of the State. 
 For now we see the tricksters guide 
 The fate of all ; and fraud decide 
 The people's will for selfish aim, 
 And I have wept, to fee the shame 
 
 Of this our modern date : 
 To know how in the slums by night, 
 Where Satan's sulphurs dim the light, 
 Conspiracies against the right 
 Of every man are formed ; and men 
 Are chosen in perdition's den 
 Who cater to the every taste 
 Of plunder, wrong, and public wast '. 
 
 Once, public deeds were done in view 
 With every honest feeling true, 
 When all the land assembled wide 
 From hill and dale, on every side, 
 To hold a barbecue
 
 114 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 Nor was that feast, now passed away, 
 
 Barbaric in its simple day ; 
 
 But formed a pageant rich and gay, 
 
 Where gathered old and young. 
 The rich, that they might still retain 
 Their vaunted scope, and then the vain, 
 As sycophants, would toady round 
 To every group throughout the ground, 
 
 Where pride and power clung. 
 The honest farmer came to see 
 The would-be-leaders of the free ; 
 And youth, and beauty, rich and rare, 
 Would come to visit fashion's fair, 
 
 In all their bright attire. 
 The ancient mother, matron, maid, 
 Would come to grace the public glade, 
 With men of every social shade, 
 
 From youth to tot'ring sire. 
 
 Political the public call 
 Proclaimed a festival for all ;
 
 THE RETROSPECT. H5 
 
 Presided o'er by chosen men, 
 
 Who ruled with autocratic power 
 Supreme in each sequestered glen, 
 
 Supreme throughout their bower : 
 Supreme, amid primeval trees 
 Whose branches, hailing every breeze, 
 
 Cast cooling shades below : 
 Where rustic tables, rough and strong, 
 Were braced between the trees along, 
 
 Or built to form a row. 
 
 For days there, on a spit-like pole, 
 
 Before a monster fire, 
 They roasted swine, and oxen whole, 
 
 Each barbecued entire : 
 And all that pleasure could advance, 
 Pavilions for the festive dance - 
 The feast the coming throng would share 
 The managers, with every care, 
 
 Done as it might require.
 
 116 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 Then came tae morn to mem'ry dear, 
 And found the anxious land astir, 
 For twenty miles or more around, 
 
 Found every class, found each abode, 
 Preparing for the festive ground, 
 
 Or moving on the road. 
 Their wagons, carts, were brought in play ;- 
 Their equipage of rich display ; 
 With crowds that footed all the way, 
 And speedy horses, dashing gay, 
 
 By daring riders strode. 
 
 Then hands were clasped, and greetings past, 
 
 With heart throughout the ground ; 
 There would the proud forget their caste, 
 
 And with the plain be found : 
 Until the vast assembly grew 
 As neighbors, firm in friendship true, 
 All seeming with one thought in view, 
 To find the men of state.
 
 THE RETROSPECT. H7 
 
 And knots would gather in a crowd, 
 And call for favored men, aloud, 
 Who ready found a stump at hand 
 That served for each, a speaker's stand, 
 E'en for the ruling great : 
 
 And easy were it then to tell, 
 As cheers rose high, and cheers rolled long, 
 In wild excitement from the throng, 
 
 The man in favor well. 
 
 The speaking done, a jubilee 
 
 Like horn assembled all the free 
 
 To dinner, 'mid the wildest glee ; 
 
 Where youthful knights, with gallant care, 
 
 To win their laurels, served the fair 
 
 Around the teeming board. 
 And in return, each girl would serve, 
 All merry, as he might deserve, 
 
 The palate of her lord. 
 Then to the dance, the mazy dance, 
 
 The fiddle and the piping fife,
 
 118 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 Called through the afternoon's expanse 
 
 The young and hale to active life, 
 While Cupid's arrows flew apace, 
 And filled with wounded hearts the place. 
 
 'Twas in those scenes those scenes of joy, 
 
 The people caught the sparks of light 
 Shed by your grandsire, then a boy, 
 
 Or scarcely more, when first in flight 
 His soul sublime took wings and soared 
 To heights the weak and wise adored. 
 His eloquence, no tongue can tell 
 His mighty power, the magic spell 
 By which he swayed the human heart 
 And swept its cords through every part. 
 His burning words each soul's desire 
 Would thrill, and fill the eye with fire ; 
 Would blanch the cheek with dangers near ; 
 Could ope the fount of sorrow's tear ; 
 Or at his grand, majestic will 
 Bid every troubled heart be still.
 
 THE RETROSPECT. H9 
 
 And such the man, and such the men, 
 The people made their leaders then ; 
 But oh ! Behold ! in sorrow bow, 
 To see the party rulers now ! 
 Machinery now rules the day ! 
 Professing politicians sway ! 
 Who, Arnold-like in shame and vice, 
 Would sell their country for a price ! 
 God help the people if they stand 
 And yield to demagogues the land ; 
 Who seek to ride upon the tide 
 Of discontent on every side ; 
 Who strive to foment anger, strife, 
 Between the rich and poor in life, 
 While common sense will tell to all 
 We must together stand or fall. 
 God save the land ! Lord, may it be 
 A land forever blest by Thee ! 
 A land of every land the best ! 
 A refuge for the world's oppressed !
 
 120 THK RETROSPECT. 
 
 I see another cloud appear 
 
 That fills my aged heart with fear ! 
 
 It makes my cheek with sorrow burn ; 
 
 An ill that modest worth should spurn. 
 
 It is a blight would dim the rose 
 
 That blooms on purity's fair cheek, 
 'Twould chill the love of home's repose, 
 
 Exalt the vile and crush the weak. 
 In woman's sacred name it craves 
 
 For her the ballot's sovereign might, 
 The game of deep designing knaves, 
 
 Who clamor round for " woman's right." 
 What are her rights to leave her home 
 Amid the vicious haunts to roam ? 
 Can virtue pure remain and meet 
 With prostitutes in their retreat, 
 Like snow upon the filthy street, 
 
 And hope to mend the time? 
 When men of strength can scarcely stand 
 Against the vile on every hand, 
 
 Who glory in their crime.
 
 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 Heroic oft is woman's strife, 
 
 When sad her fate appears as given, 
 Contending for the bread of life, 
 
 To feed her brood, a gift of Heaven. 
 But if she leaves her sacred sphere 
 A land accursed should quake with fear, 
 To see the worst of evils near. 
 Shall Cleopatra's evil fame, 
 Shall vile Aspasia's open shame, 
 
 Blight Liberty's fair brow ? 
 And spread their curse o'er every hearth, 
 Where sits a wife of moral worth, 
 
 In peace and comfort now. 
 Almighty hope ! forbid the crime ! 
 Long may true mothers rule sublime, 
 By Christian home-love's guiding hand ! 
 The will that trains ! controls the land ! 
 We see in Moses, now, the plan, 
 W T hom God ordained to mould the man ! 
 
 But I must cease my gloomy wail, 
 A plain old woman's simple tale
 
 122 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 Was all at first I thought to trace, 
 
 And tell how time had changed the place, 
 
 But strange 'twill seem when strangers tread, 
 
 In coming years, among our dead, 
 
 To see a tomb inscribed " Unknown," 
 
 As one among our sacred own : 
 
 And as my days are nearly o'er, 
 
 I'll tell you all just how it came, 
 A stranger's tomb that never bore 
 
 A shadowy trace of home or name, 
 The story runs in times of old ; 
 Among the early dates I told. 
 
 ' Twas in the Winter, blighting chill, 
 The bleak winds swept from every hill ; 
 Came howling 'mid the branches bare ; 
 Came whirling dead leaves through the air; 
 As men brought in the wood, with care, 
 To keep our hearth, of bliss, aglow 
 Through that portentous storm of snow ;
 
 THE RETROSPECT. 123 
 
 For well we knew the signs o'erhead, 
 
 When leaden clouds all overspread 
 
 The skies with nature's sullen frown, 
 
 The storm must soon come sweeping down ; 
 
 And so it did ! ere morning's hour, 
 
 With wild Siberia's driving power, 
 
 It came and baffles now to tell, 
 
 In language, how all day it fell ; 
 
 Until in drifts, and plains below, 
 
 The world lay buried deep in snow. 
 
 That gloomy day, its sombre light, 
 Was blending with the gathering night ; 
 When in our servant rushed, to state, 
 1 A crazy man was at the gate : 
 A wild-like helpless half-clad form, 
 That seemed nigh frozen by the storm.' 
 We sought the door, and standing saw 
 A figure strange, that filled with awe 
 My heart, in all my checkered days 
 I never saw so wild a gaze !
 
 124 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 There, weird indeed, the figure stood, 
 Like some wild spectre of the wood, 
 Clothed in a garb of scant array 
 Unfit to brave a winter's day. 
 
 His moccasins were thin and old ; 
 His pants were worn at every fold ; 
 And coatless was his shivering form 
 While round, to guard him from the storm, 
 He drew a blanket, thin and bare, 
 That stood as naught against the air. 
 Grotesque, upon his head a gear 
 He wore, of crape and raccoon fur, 
 Which ended with the striped tails, 
 That hung behind a brace of trails : 
 While round his neck, beneath his jaw, 
 He wrapped a heavy twist of straw ; 
 And then what added to the sight, 
 The man, with snow, was covered white. 
 
 Blue was his face, the chill of death 
 Seemed breathing from his icy breath,
 
 THE RETROSPECT. ]25 
 
 That rose as vapor, and appeared 
 Like frost upon his frozen beard ; 
 That sight unpitied none could see, 
 'Twas suffering in its worst degree. 
 I now can see his features thin, 
 As Reuben strove to coax him in, 
 From out that wild and blinding storm, 
 To share a refuge safe and warm. 
 
 Wild was his look, his vacant stare 
 Made up the picture of despair; 
 Yet while refusing every aid, 
 ILL wandering words, he kindly said, 
 ' I have no time, by night or morn ! 
 My pilgrimage is onward ! on ! 
 
 I'll grasp the wind ! 
 
 I'll safely bind ! 
 The tempest with a string ! 
 
 And then all day 
 
 I'll watch and pray, 
 And hear the angels sing !
 
 126 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 Do you hear ! do you hear ! 
 How sweetly, and clear, 
 They warble around ! they're ever near !' 
 
 And yet again ! again we tiued, 
 
 To have him but that stormy night 
 Come in, and safely there abide 
 
 Until the morrow's dawning light, 
 And break with us our evening bread, 
 That stood upon the table spread. 
 He paused then heaved a heavy sigh, 
 While something calmed his restless eye ; 
 Yet still Jie gave this strange reply: 
 1 I'll catch the snow 
 The wild winds blow, 
 For meal to make my bread ! 
 But who will make 
 The bread, and bake, 
 For my poor wife is dead ! 
 Whoo ! whoo ! what a dirge !
 
 THE RETROSPECT. 127 
 
 Around her grave these wild winds surge ! 
 But storms must cease at glory's verge !' 
 
 All seemed as useless, every plea 
 Was wasted, to the last degree, 
 Upon the man, who failed to see 
 
 Naught but his visions wild. 
 When smiling came behind, to scan, 
 And peeped, to see the ' stranger-man/ 
 
 Your grandma, then a child. 
 Her tiny smile was like a ray, 
 It drove his clouds of doubt away, 
 
 The man at once was changed. 
 He came, and took the proffered chair, 
 He shared the table's waiting fare, 
 And spent within the evening there, 
 
 In not the least estranged : 
 And freely talked, though strangely wild, 
 
 Yet lucid moments came ; 
 When he appeared serenely mild, 
 
 Then thus would often name
 
 128 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 His wife ; who ever seemed a part 
 Of every dream that filled his heart: 
 
 ' I had a wife ! I blest the hour 
 I took my Marg'ret, not a flower 
 That ever bloomed was half so bright 
 As she, my heart ! her eyes of light 
 Shone like that pure and fadeless guide 
 Which seamen watch across the tide, 
 True as that star, which marks the pole, 
 Was Marg'ret's faith, that thrilled her soul. 
 But Glory's gracious courts above 
 Were wanting angels; and my love 
 They called to realms of bliss on high, 
 Amid the mansions of the sky ; 
 
 Where storms shall cease ! 
 
 Where all is peace ! 
 But yet they left our callow dove, 
 Our own, one, precious pledge of love. 
 
 ' But oh ! when in the chilly grave 
 
 They laid her form, all pleasure fled !
 
 THE RETROSPECT. 129 
 
 For all that earth in transport gave 
 
 To me, lay sleeping with the dead. 
 It was not death ! she could not die ! 
 
 I knew my darling only slept, 
 And o'er her grave, when none were nigh, 
 
 I nightly prayed, and watched, and wept, 
 And at her head I raised a cross, 
 
 An empty cross ! I raised it there ; 
 To mark the lonely mound of moss 
 
 That covers her, my matchless fair. 
 An empty cross ! no drooping head ! 
 No symbol of a Lord that's dead ! 
 No figure telling by its gloom 
 That Death, triumphant, rules the tomb ! 
 An empty cross ! The risen Lord !- 
 It symbolizes life restored ! 
 And tells! oh, what a jubilee ! 
 That Marg'ret lives, and waits for me ! 
 For me ! upon that deathless shore 
 Where howling storms shall rage no more."
 
 130 THK RETROSPECT. 
 
 While talking thus, he seemed to be 
 But dwelling on those thoughts refined 
 
 That once possessed his spirit free, 
 Before affliction touched his mind. 
 
 But starting wildly up, he said, 
 
 'My precious time I've long delayed 
 
 And I must go ! must go ! must go ! 
 
 Let howling tempests drive the snow ! 
 
 What care I for the things below ! 
 
 No house shall shield my troubled head ! 
 
 My child is lost ! my wife is dead ! 
 
 Oh, let the cold winds bitter blow ! 
 
 I'll seek the lost, through wind and snow ! 
 
 And I must go ! must go ! must go ! 
 
 ' They took me to my little child 
 When it but slept! and sweetly smiled ! 
 And said the little darling died ! 
 And it should lie by Marg'ret's .side ! 
 
 They lied ! they lied ! 
 
 It never died !
 
 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 'Twas but asleep ! 
 
 Oh ! I could weep 
 To tell how they refused delay ! 
 And how they tore my child away ! 
 As I ! its father ! on this arm 
 Was hugging its pale form from harm ! 
 But round its cold, its icy form, 
 I wrapt my coat to keep it warm ; 
 And now I wear no coat ! no ! no ! 
 For it would feel this biting snow ! 
 An angel came and told me so ! 
 Before the storm the angel came, 
 And called my darling lamb by name ; 
 And did to me this truth unfold : 
 When I am warm the child is cold ; 
 
 And I will go ! 
 
 Through wind and snow ! 
 Until I find my precious fair ! 
 With sky-like eyes! and flaxen hair! 
 That Marg'ret, when she soared above, 
 Left with me here ! Her child of love !'
 
 132 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 And then he took a bundle small, 
 
 That held its little clothing all, 
 
 And spread them out, with tender care, 
 
 To see if all were in repair. 
 
 And as he viewed the poor display, 
 
 And turned the pieces o'er, 
 The madman seemed to pass away; 
 
 As oft from memory's store, 
 Kind words would fall, amid the maze, 
 That gave a glimpse of better days. 
 
 'This dress, all stitched along the band, 
 Was made,' he said, ' by Marg'ret's hand. 
 Yes ! oft when night around had flung 
 Its mantle dark, she sewed, and sung 
 With me, the songs of love and praise ; 
 The sweet refrain of brighter days. 
 Oh, these were happy times ! they're flown 1 
 And I am left, alone ! alone ! 
 
 1 This little coat, all wrought so fine, 
 Our baby's coat ! 'twas hers and mine !
 
 THE RETROSPECT. 133 
 
 Was made when she, so thin and pale, 
 Looked haggard. Oh ! with no avail 
 I strove my bursting grief to hide, 
 As I sat loving by her side. 
 She saw that I was nearly wild, 
 When stooping o'er she kissed the child ; 
 And asked me, as she saintly smiled, 
 That I should read to her, anon, 
 The fourteenth chapter of Saint John. 
 The mansion doors were open wide, 
 And soon she found her Saviour's side ; 
 
 But I was left 
 The honored lot, 
 
 Of her bereft, 
 
 To mark the spot 
 
 Where Marg'ret sleeps, until that day 
 When Christ shall come in grand array ; 
 And earth shall melt like wax away. 
 But none are left to mark the breast 
 Of mother-earth where I shall rest ;
 
 134 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 No ! none to place a single stone 
 Or cross where I must sleep alone. 
 
 ' And oh, these shoes ! so worn and old, 
 Recalls me now my child is cold ! 
 Lost ! lost ! oh, lost ! she waits for me, 
 While time is ebbing like the sea ! 
 How oft these little shoes, to meet 
 Thy mother's love, have borne thy feet ! 
 Have brought to me a welcome sweet ! 
 
 And yet while blowing 
 
 Clouds are snowing 
 
 I've halting, stopped ! Oh, woe is me ! 
 I'm coming now ! I'll come to thee !' 
 
 But we against his going stood, 
 We humored every changing mood 
 
 In kindness, to delay 
 The man till Reuben could prepare 
 In town a safe asylum there, 
 Soon as returned the day.
 
 THE RETROSPECT. 135 
 
 But with a madman's cunning art 
 He shrewdly played a sleeper's part ; 
 Till he perceived his watcher slept, 
 Then softly from the kitchen crept, 
 And found the child and mother's home, 
 Above the storm, in Glory's dome, 
 For when the sun rose, all aglow, 
 We tracked the stranger o'er the snow, 
 And found a frozen form below. 
 
 Poor Reuben, moved with pitying grief, 
 
 Wept o'er a sight so sad to see, 
 Although it gave a soul relief, 
 
 And set the wanderer's spirit free. 
 And all remaining yet to do 
 We did, with Christian feeling true. 
 We gave to this wild stranger's head 
 A resting-place among our dead, 
 And carved upon his cross of stone, 
 ' To Marg'ret's spouse a poor unknown.'
 
 136 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 But I have wandered long, to tell 
 
 The incidents and scenes I saw, 
 In changes that around me fell, 
 As moved by some strange occult spell, 
 
 And not by nature's law. 
 But when I wandered on this range 
 
 We left the place a thriving town, 
 And yet, it seems a power strange, 
 That made that village by its change 
 
 This city of renown. 
 
 In vain I look around to find 
 A scene familiar to my mind, 
 As when the red man's warlike hand 
 Did battle for his native land : 
 But all in vain ; the grand array 
 Reveals the old has passed away ; 
 No ! not one poor old Indian brave 
 Remains .to deck his father's grave, 
 Or tell how once his savage race 
 Were masters of this settled place.
 
 THE RETROSPECT. 137 
 
 An alien people well may dread 
 
 The bold Caucasian's onward tread ; 
 
 If they but meet, or cross his frown, 
 
 The ruthless white man ploughs them down. 
 
 But to the country came a rest, 
 
 As thriving cities filled the West ; 
 
 The commerce with the East 
 Conveniences for travel made, 
 And transportations for the trade, 
 
 As things around increased. 
 
 Long wagon trains, the freighted class 
 Like merchant fleets, would daily pass; 
 And proudly on they bore their course, 
 With bells arched o'er each leading horse ; 
 
 Arched o'er their collars broad. 
 That gave a merry signal clear, 
 A jingling, chime-like, ringing air, 
 
 To all upon the road :
 
 138 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 And then, the stage, in bright array 
 Passed swiftly by, and da<hed away : 
 His four-in-hand the driver held, 
 While every heart with rapture swelled, 
 Within, to look, to hear, and see 
 The people in their merry glee, 
 Who cheered them as they swept along, 
 Or gave an echo to their song. 
 
 And at the station all was life, 
 All bustle, all in active strife ; 
 Where hostlers dashed about with speed 
 To groom the panting, smoking steed 
 
 That late so quickly flew : 
 Or harness for the onward trip ; 
 To hear the driver crack his whip ! 
 
 Then quickly out of view ! 
 But every gilded cloud we see 
 Has still a shadow on the lea, 
 
 Where brightest flowers dwell.
 
 THE RETROSPECT. 139 
 
 And staging had its dismal side, 
 
 To those whom business forced to ride, 
 
 That broke the fancy spell. 
 For with an uncongenial throng, 
 
 Their time appeared a cruel waste, 
 All jostled, with a crowd along 
 
 Devoid of courtesy or taste : 
 Where nothing could relieve the thrall 
 That bound them in a space so small. 
 
 And oft the driver's early horn 
 Aroused the village by its blast, 
 
 To see a weary crowd, forlorn, 
 
 All dusted o'er, and travel- worn, 
 With heads of drooping cast. 
 
 For staging, through a chilly night, 
 
 Will make the best a sorry sight, 
 To hail the coming morn. 
 
 Give me the steam ! The modern steam ! 
 That as a swallow skims the stream
 
 140 THK RETROSPECT. 
 
 The train sweeps on, and, like the wind, 
 Leaves distance, as a waste behind. 
 Far better than the stage of old, 
 The heated cars defy the cold ; 
 And human skill has in the race 
 Annihilated time, and space. 
 
 The grand hotels of modern time 
 Were never reached in dreams sublime 
 
 By us in days of yore. 
 Where now the costly carpets greet 
 The tramp of every comer's feet, 
 
 We had the sanded floor. 
 The wayside inn, in days of old, 
 Was but a kind of social fold, 
 Where man and beast could stop, and feel 
 At home ; or find a hasty meal, 
 As time allowed a lengthened stay, 
 Or business urged their onward way.
 
 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 No architectural pile arose 
 Their stately grandeur to impose 
 
 With domes, and turrets high. 
 Our ancient inns were mostly low, 
 Built all for use, with little show, 
 And near the door would standing be 
 A pump, and trough, and bucket free. 
 
 For every passer-by. 
 While overhead a swinging sign, 
 Of letters, or some crude design, 
 
 Would catch the trav'ler's eye ; 
 And tell the tavern standing there 
 Was one of comfort, rich of fare, 
 Built for the rover's special care. 
 
 Within, the kitchen gave a view, 
 Indorsing much, the sign as true ; 
 For from the spacious hearth the blaze 
 Would send its heat, and cast its rays 
 Of gold, to gild away the gloom 
 Of every corner round the room.
 
 142 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 And in the chimney-place there swung 
 An iron crane, and on it hung 
 The boiling vessels, in array, 
 That sung their merry roundelay; 
 While hanging from the rafters high 
 Were tongues, and hams, and flitch to dry ; 
 
 That gave a scene of cheer. 
 And round the hearth, in social chat, 
 Commingling, for the evening, sat 
 All those the waiters of the inn, 
 And those who served the guests, within, 
 
 From every scattered sphere. 
 
 Now gorgeous ! grand ! to grace our day- 
 Magnificent in rich display ! 
 Hotels arise, that almost seem 
 The substance of an Eastern dream. 
 Each mirrored room, Corinthian hall, 
 Their crystal lights, their comforts all, 
 Where round, in winter, softly flows , 
 A warmth that lulls us to repose,
 
 THE RETROSPECT. 143 
 
 As if the stately palace, grand, 
 
 Belonged to some enchanted land. 
 
 Not so the rural inns of old ; 
 
 Rude were their drawing-rooms, and cold, 
 
 Naught but the log-piled hearth, whose heat, 
 
 Midway across the room, would meet 
 
 An arctic rigor from without, 
 
 That forced us in a group about 
 
 The hearth, with blaze aglow ; 
 Where merry hearts, a buoyant throng ! 
 For people in those days were strong, 
 Would tell their tales, or pass the jest, 
 In rivalry, to prove the best ; 
 
 But this was long ago ! 
 
 And yet, I often loath to praise 
 
 The change of time; for pride displays 
 
 A falling off, we all can trace, 
 
 In what evolves a manly race. 
 
 The girl, who only dreams of roses, 
 
 As she on silk and down reposes,
 
 144 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 Presents a sorry sight, 
 As one to make a man a wife, 
 When forced to stem the tide of life 
 
 Against misfortune's blight. 
 I think the race, in torrid clime, 
 
 Those gardens of free birth, 
 Where nature's rich, prolific soil 
 Gives all to man without his toil, 
 
 And leaves his life a dearth, 
 Would quickly reach their end of time, 
 Amid their gorgeous scenes, sublime, 
 If they were not repeopled there 
 With north-men, who in frozen air 
 Had fought their sterile hills, amain, 
 Their scanty needs of life to gain. 
 So boys, who reared as tender plants, 
 Are apt to prove but frail gallants ; 
 Unfit to serve their country's need ; 
 Unfit to do a daring deed ; 
 Unfit to brave, in manly strife, 
 The struggles of an active life.
 
 THE RETROSPECT. 145 
 
 But I must stop ! 
 
 And yet a thought 
 Has on my flying fancy caught ! 
 There is a mighty change, no breath 
 Can tell its wonders. It is Death ! 
 I've seen its work; of all who trod 
 This land at first, above the sod 
 I ! only I ! remain to-day ; 
 The rest the rest have passed away. 
 The change has brought strange men unknown, 
 To those who gathered with our own ; 
 And as I o'er the scene survey, 
 I wonder, where, oh ! where are they ; 
 The many who have met their doom 
 Of fate beyond the silent tomb? 
 
 Death gathers all, of human mould, 
 
 Within his dark eternal fold. 
 
 The poor, the rich, the weak, the brave ; 
 
 The beggar's rags, the king his crown ; 
 
 Both worthless, both must lay them down, 
 
 And sleep within the grave. 
 10
 
 146 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 mystery of mysteries ! Thou 
 
 To whom the living world must bow; 
 Thou canst but conquer things of earth ; 
 The righteous have a blessed birth ; 
 From all the might that rests in thee, 
 When thou hast set the spirit free. 
 I've watched the hero's parting sigh 
 I've seen the honored statesman die; 
 I've laid the baby from my breast 
 Down in its narrow couch of rest ; 
 But soon I wiped my tears away, 
 For well I knew a brighter day 
 They saw, where we shall meet above, 
 In Glory's dome of deathless love. 
 
 1 go ! and you must follow soon, 
 Though now in vigor's youthful bloom ; 
 For all must soon receive the call 
 That spreads for us the sable pall. 
 
 Oh, what is pride ! oh, what is power ! 
 Or pomp in that dread final hour !
 
 THE RETROSPECT. J47 
 
 When every form of mortal clay, 
 Must fade to dust, and pass away ! 
 I've often wondered what we love 
 
 In those of earth, to whom we cling ? 
 
 But logic science fail to bring 
 A reason, or a fact, to prove 
 
 The mystery of the thing. 
 
 We see around the couch of death 
 
 The loved ones watch the fleeting breath ; 
 
 The potions, vying hands prepare, 
 
 The couch is smoothed with tender care, 
 
 They stand, and watch the taper light 
 
 Of life, that's flickering in their sight ; 
 
 Until the spirit takes its flight : 
 
 Then turn, and leave to strangers' hands 
 
 To do the last the world commands ; 
 
 And quickly bear away that form, 
 
 Which once with love and life was warm.
 
 148 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 I know we love the soul ! and why ? 
 
 Because the soul can never die ! 
 
 If thou wouldst test this truth, go tell 
 
 The tender tale, and watch the spell ; 
 
 'Tis from the eye we see the glow 
 
 Of love's soft beam so sweetly flow, 
 
 That for a moment sorrow's power 
 
 Is lost in Eden's blissful hour. 
 
 But when the spirit-soul has fled, 
 
 Go whisper to the silent dead ; 
 
 And watch the eye, the glassy stare 
 
 Will tell that love's no longer there. 
 
 O death ! thy bitter sting has flown 
 
 When God but gathers in his own. 
 
 O grave ! thy victory is o'er 
 
 When we shall meet on Canaan's shore. 
 
 But now, before we say good-night, 
 Just look above ; behold the sight, 
 The starry hosts, without a rest, 
 Are ever sinking in the west ;
 
 THE RETROSPECT. 149 
 
 While from the brink of eastern space 
 Roll others up to fill their place : 
 And in the dome of spangled light 
 There shines the brilliant queen of night, 
 Who pours around her silv'ry beam, 
 Like floods of blessing, all serene. 
 And so mankind, since time had birth, 
 Has sunk from off the living earth ; 
 While others rise, to .fill the room 
 Of those who pass to meet their doom. 
 Yet over all, oh, glorious sight ! 
 The spirit sees Jehovah's light, 
 Who came, incarnate, here to save 
 The lost, from dark perdition's grave. 
 Light-of-the-world, Almighty ray, 
 Incarnate God ! oh, guide our way ! 
 Until at last, by mercy's grace, 
 We all shall see Thy hallow'd face ! 
 
 Good-night ! good-night ! before in sleep 
 We close our eyes, in earnest prayer,
 
 150 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 We'll pray our Father God to keep 
 
 Us all within His special care. 
 Good-night ! for good it is to be 
 From sickness, pain, and sorrow free ; 
 To dwell in peace, without a fear, 
 In kindred love's own circle dear. 
 
 Good-night ! remember, ere \ve sleep, 
 The thoughtless sinner ever nigh ; 
 The heathen dark, the poor who weep, 
 
 And crave them mercies from on high. 
 And then, return for blessings given, 
 Our own best heartfelt thanks to Heaven ; 
 That we, in these our fleeting years, 
 Are placed beyond the gloom of tears. 
 
 Good-night ! good-night ! I give you here 
 Such blessings as my love can give ; 
 
 And oh, my children, ever dear ! 
 I pray that you in God may live.
 
 THE RETROSPECT. 
 
 That you may walk the path of right, 
 
 Nor ever wander from His sight ; 
 
 That He will guide us by His might, 
 
 Until we sleep in death, good-night. 
 
 Good-night ! good-night ! good-night ! good-night !" 
 
 THE END.
 
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