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Digitized by the Internet Arciiive 
 
 in 2007 with funding from 
 
 IVIicrosoft Corporation 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/bennebootherpoemOOstuarich 
 
EN 
 
 EBO: 
 
 AND 
 
 OTHER ^ O E M S. 
 
 BY 
 
 HECTOR A. STUART, 
 
 "CAUBAN." 
 
 \8 raT 
 
 or TMI 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 Sm 
 
 or 
 
 SECOND EDITION 
 
 1876 
 
ftTftrf-c l» Act of CuMgw, ia th* year 1876, by Hktor A. Stuart, in 
 Um OCot of the Librariaa of Oongrea*, at Wadiington. 
 
TO 
 
 Gen. JOHN BIDWELL, 
 
 of Chico, 
 
 This Volume is inscribed. Being a Token of the Author's 
 
 Esteem of a sterling Pioneer and Representative 
 
 Citizen of California. 
 
INTHODUCTEOK 
 
 This is the second edition of *'Ben Nebo," the success of the 
 first, warranting the assumption that its successor would be 
 equally well received. To the chief Poem, are added a number 
 of shorter works, varied in character, and as such, calculated to 
 please as varied tastes. Each of these is inscribed to some per- 
 son of note, either in Literature, Art, Medicine, Jurisprudence, 
 Journalism and Commerce; the distinction so accorded, being 
 the result of friendship, or of personal esteem, entertained by the 
 author for those thus honored, who exercises the privilege of a 
 poet in so doing. 
 
 As regards the merit of the poems, that must be left to the 
 judgment of the reader, yet, if there is any truth in cultivated 
 opinion which has stamped these productions with approbation, 
 the decision cannot be unfavorable. In this connection, the 
 author may be excused in citing the appended extract, taken 
 from " La Voce del Popolo," the editor of which being himself 
 a poet, may be justly regarded as authority on subjects of a 
 poetic character. 
 
 "Abbiamo ricevuti i primi fogli della seconda edizione del ben 
 noto poema cui porta per titilo ' Ben Nebo,' del rinomato poeta 
 americano Hector A. Stuart. La nuova edizione 4 accresciuta 
 di molti canti e poemetti finora inediti; la carta e della migliore 
 e piii costosa, la stampa niditissima. Gran parte del poema h 
 dedicato ad avventure e scene amorose nelle incantevoli isole 
 
VI 
 
 tropicali dell'oceano Pacifico. II signer Stuart ha immaginzione 
 vivace, inventiva felice, verseggiatura facile e chiara; il linguagio 
 n*e terso, elevato, dolce, impeiuoso o terribile, secondo il bisogno 
 degli oggetti cui imprende a narrare o descrivere. Tutto ci6 
 rende la nuova edizione del 'Ben Nebo* un lavoro interessante pel 
 cultori del bello e degno d'un posto onorevole fra i poemi piii 
 classici cui vanta la giovane America." 
 
 The following is another indorsement from an equally high 
 authority, John Mac Donough Foard, who thus speaks of the 
 preceding volume: 
 
 ** We are indebted to the author, Hector A. Stuart, for a copy 
 of his new poem, entitled " Ben Nebo; a pilgrimage in the South 
 Seas." The theme being the adventures of a semi-piratical hero, 
 there is a charm about the work akin to that which makes 
 **The Corsair" of Byron so irresistibly attractive to the lovers of 
 marine literature. As "Ben Nebo" tells his own story, we will 
 not attempt to enlighten the reader. The poem consists of three 
 cantos in the Spenserian measure, and is beautifully illustrated — 
 the frontispiece being a life-like portrait of Mr. Stuart, in the 
 character of the hero. It is the most pretentious poem which has 
 yet emanated from the brain of a California poet. The story is 
 well sustained, and the rj'thm musical and harmonious, the dic- 
 tion pure, and the imagery all that the most fanciful imagination 
 could desire. In a word, " Ben Nebo" is a production of un- 
 common merit, and bespeaks for its author — who is yet on the 
 sunny side of thirty — an honorable niche in the " Temple of the 
 Tuneful." Mr. Stuart is better known to our readers as "Cal- 
 iban," whose satires and epigrams have attracted much attention 
 in the literary world." 
 
-* i 
 
 
 BEN NEBO; 
 
 A PILGRIMAGE IN THE SOUTH SEAS. 
 
 Inscribed to THOS. B. LEWIS, Esq., Banker, of San Francisco. 
 
 Canto I 
 
 Retired within this gloomy cave, that stands 
 
 All lonely on the sad, sea-beaten shore, 
 'Tis mine to sing of Ascian's glowing lands — 
 To plow again her sparkling waters o'er, 
 And from Oblivion strange events restore. 
 And as the Genius of th' eventful song 
 
 Exultant springs his mingled tones to pour, 
 Deep-hidden deeds in every whisper throng, 
 And chanting Pity weeps as roll the strains along. 
 
 The sun is red on Australs' flashing main, 
 
 And fresh the wind that curls the rushing foam; 
 No more' inert! Upheave the lengthened chain! 
 
 We must away o'er distant seas to roam; 
 
 Self-exiled from our fair and much-loved home. 
 On deck Ben Nebo stood, and sadder grew 
 
 As darker evening's curtain 'gan to loam; 
 And oft he sighed, as o'er the surges blue 
 The fond familiar land receded from his view. 
 
Now out upon the open sea we ride, 
 
 And to the pressing gale the vessel bends; 
 
 Her sturdy bows push headlong through the tide, 
 And far beyond her tapering shade extends, 
 As deep astern the lurid sun descends; 
 
 While round the mast the sea-gull circling flies, 
 And to the watch his dirgeful murmur sends. 
 
 Till his untiring wing sidelong he plies, 
 And melts in gloom as Eve forsakes the dark'ning skies. 
 
 Beyond the boiling wake, his eyes in vain 
 Ben Nebo cast to view the fading shore. 
 
 But shadows loom along the leaden main. 
 And doubtful outlines gloam the distance o'er, 
 Where waves on waves in chilling fury roar. 
 
 His native land has melted from his sight, 
 But Recollection can its scenes restore; 
 
 Yet many a joyous image cheers the night, 
 And weeping sorrows rise like phantoms to aftVight. 
 
 "Adieu, fair land ! long years may first revolve 
 Ere I again thy vernal meads shall tread — 
 The dreams of youth in frosty age dissolve, 
 And new bom pleasures mingle with the dead, 
 As Time with chilly wind beats round ray head; 
 Adieu, fair land! I love thee; yet 'twas thou 
 
 Gave me this being which I so much dread; 
 'Twas thou sustained my infant steps, yet now 
 Self-exiled from thy shores, the wintry waves I plow. 
 
 "Yet why should I complain, since all are doomed 
 To various toil by ruthless Destiny ! 
 Some in the stifling cell, or mine, are tombed — 
 Some rove neglected on the warring sea; 
 Yet every fate is such as it should be. 
 Man is but dust in Fate's almighty eye, 
 Though he may claim to immortality. 
 And deem he lives when dumb his ashes lie — 
 And none have e'er came back to tell him how to die. 
 
"Man is but dust upon the wheel of life — 
 As it revolves so he must circle round ; 
 He who resists — in the unequal strife — 
 Is first into insensate powder ground, 
 While still unstopp'd the tireless rim will bound. 
 Man's puny arm can naught of use avail, 
 
 To clamp the law that Fate approveth sound, 
 At best he can his helf)less state bewail. 
 Or, if foolhardy, at its mighty author rail." 
 
 Thus mused Ben Nebo, as across the skies 
 
 He saw the stars their pathless courses thread- 
 The wondrous planets from the east arise, 
 
 Or in the west their paling lustre shed ; 
 
 While like a fiery serpent, overhead 
 A mighty comet meets his wondering sight. 
 
 And fills the crew with superstitious dread; 
 Who in its vast array of ruddy light, 
 Behold some demon fell in flaming wrath bedight. 
 
 Majestic wanderer, wheeling through the gloom 
 With none to guide thee in thy wayward flight, 
 
 What, as wind-fanned thy flames terrific loom. 
 Doth lead thee through the dark involving night. 
 Or steer thy bulk 'mongst countless spheres aright? 
 
 In orb erratic doomed for aye to sweep. 
 
 And darkened nations with thy glance affright; 
 
 What fate is thine thus tireless on to leap. 
 And blast with quenchless fires the vast etherial deep? 
 
 In vain to ask : our thoughts to earth are prest, 
 
 Though some inspiring wish exalts the soul 
 To rise above the grosser sense, and quest 
 The mystic marvels that above us roll, 
 Or deeper seek the spirit's subtle goal; 
 But ah! such flights a sober mind denies, 
 Pleased with its little earthly-natured dole — 
 'Tis but the wandering thought that heavenward flies, 
 Or to pierce what is hid with pride presuming tries. 
 
'Tis folly when the rigid will of fate 
 
 Has closed the Future to our darkened gaze, 
 To press obtrusive at the folded gate, 
 
 And thread unasked the unfrequented maze ; 
 For, could we view its scenes, anguish might craze 
 Our souls ; or we might see in dark distress 
 
 No sign of bliss to cheer our ghostly days; 
 If like the ox, man is no more nor less — 
 Death snuffs the spark of life and all is nothingness. 
 
 But yet this cannot be ; there is within 
 
 This ashy casket something that will glow 
 When Earth has claimed her poor terrestrious kin, 
 
 And all that lived is laid forever low! 
 
 As dust no more of lingering grief to know, 
 A spark ignited at a deathless fire, 
 
 A soul immortal, yet alive to woe 
 And bliss, still having that which will inspire 
 It with transcendent light when all its dregs expire. 
 
 'Tis this that lifts the man above the brute, 
 
 Exalts his mind, and fires his soul with dreams 
 Bright and incarnate — the appointed fruit 
 Of that celestial joy which ever teems 
 In a well ordered mind — a mind that deems 
 Its great Creator the sole object worth 
 
 A life-long adoration ; such as streams 
 Spontaneous from the ruder tribes of earth 
 When in united strain they hail fair Nature's birth. 
 
 Sunk are the bulwarks of the winding lands — 
 On every side the boundless sea extends; 
 
 Still like a statue fixed, Ben Nebo stands. 
 
 And to the reckless gales his anguish sends — 
 That anguish which his manly bosom rends ; 
 
 For he was one whom Fate relentless casts 
 Upon a troubled surge ; nor joy descends 
 
 To shield him from the ever howling blasts 
 That shook his heart like winds a wreck's unsteady masts. 
 
" Roll on ye waves ! ye loud-voiced breezes blow ! 
 Your mournful sounds congenial strike my ear; 
 Although there falls betimes a note of woe — 
 A mystic sound as spirit-voices drear 
 That wail of pleasures lost and sorrows near; 
 Still, still ! your gloomy diapasons roll, 
 
 And bear me onward as ye swift career ; 
 While in consonance with your cries, my soul 
 Shall mingling rise and sweep through Sorrow's pensive goal! 
 
 "Shades of the Past! why should your grisled forms 
 Eternal haunt my vain-averted sight? 
 More woful ye than ocean's windy storms. 
 Or shaft that thunders in the dreadful tight, 
 Or bolt that hurtles in the dead of night ; 
 These though, too oft with wrath unseemly fraught 
 
 Smite at a blow, nor long the fated fright, 
 But ye with deathless pangs my soul hath taught 
 That of all barbs none vie with sorrow-haunting Thought. 
 
 "Here as I muse amid the whirlwind's wail. 
 
 The sea's deep sob, the mew's complaining cry, 
 My heart pours out her melancholy tale 
 Of buried joys that still uncovered lie, 
 Though darkly sealed from each obtrusive eye. 
 And what is life to him whose bosom owns 
 
 Such pangs as these that were not made to die.^ 
 In vain for respite he continual groans. 
 Or flies as from himself to earth's remotest zones." 
 
 But lo! the night is waning, and afar 
 
 Morn's early blush comes dappling o'er the verge ; 
 Now paler-gleams each white, translucent star. 
 
 And fairer foams the onward-dashing surge ; 
 
 While from their watery beds, the gulls emerge, 
 And shivering sweep across the wide expanse. 
 
 Still on her course fair winds the vessel urge. 
 As hope beams forth in every wanderer's glance. 
 And high each bosom beats as round the waters dance. 
 
Fair was the voyage till on the hazy lee 
 
 The Maori shores loomed like a belt of blue, 
 
 When darkly o'er the dim, north-western sea, 
 A murky cloud rose ominous to view. 
 And whistling winds in rising gamuts blew ; 
 
 Anon across the wild, upsurging tides 
 Storm-boding petrels in confusion flew ; 
 
 And the fleet porpoise o'er the surges rides, 
 And far to calmer seas his shape unwieldy guides. 
 
 Firm at his post the sun-browned master stands, 
 Yet views with awe yon wind-announcing cloud ; 
 
 For on his lee app)eared New Zealand's strands. 
 Half-hid in one long, dark incumbent shroud, 
 And far beyond with devious shoals endowed. 
 
 But still deep versant in the windy jar, 
 
 He stood alert, though hoarse the tempest soughed. 
 
 And huge o'er many a circumjacent bar 
 The frothy breakers raged in mad vehement war. 
 
 He stood unmoved, and with experienced skill 
 
 Prepared his ship to meet the coming gale; 
 E'en now resounding through the rigging, shrill — 
 
 Tremendous straining on the belching sail; 
 
 While rushed the seas along the weather rail 
 Like hoary demons thirsting for their prey; 
 
 Though vainly yet they can her sides assail, 
 They rise to smite; she nimbly glides away, 
 And seems with those dread crests like a coquette to play. 
 
 Now grouped on deck, all hands in dumb suspense 
 Watch her bold course along the watery maze. 
 
 And as they look to windward, looming thence 
 Like some weird turrets through the drifting haze. 
 Three lonely islets strike their wond'ring gaze; 
 
 Upon their towering cones the last red glare 
 Of dying Eve sheds a portentous blaze, 
 
 As if the torch of Hell had kindled there 
 A triple fire to lure sad wanderers to despair. 
 
The "Three Kings" these! infixed amid the flood, 
 
 Like sentries grim that watch the outmost shore 
 Of this rude land, where oft barbaric blood 
 
 Is made in sacrificial founts to pour; 
 
 When the fierce shock of direful battle o'er, 
 The victors haste their captives to devour; 
 
 Like ogres foul, exulting lap the gore, 
 And deem the feast their gods "appointed dower — 
 Such is this race on whom a genius dark doth lower. 
 
 But who shall blame, since Nature's self doth urge 
 
 These savage people to such horrid deeds; 
 *Tis her edicts that form as they diverge 
 
 Our various states, our actions, and our creeds; 
 
 And who can say her influence e'er misleads? 
 To follow Nature, is but to obey 
 
 That potent voice which in each bosom pleads 
 Against all that our pleasure might bewray, 
 And seeks to guide us on the prime appointed way. 
 
 All men are vile! but Fate has favored some, 
 And raised them o'er their less enlighten 'd kind; 
 
 Yet all from the same dusty substance come, 
 And all to equal follies are inclined. 
 And all at last a common rest must find; 
 
 Yet earth-born favors shed upon a few, 
 
 Aft'ect them so, they fancy Heaven designed 
 
 Them as superior to the general crew, 
 When peradventure they more loathsome wiles pursue. 
 
 But hark! the gale with added fury blows, 
 
 And wilder from their chains the waves are cast; 
 Still to the storm our ship her canvas shows. 
 
 Fearful to reef until to starboard past 
 
 Those three lone isles. Then from each shiv'ring mast 
 The belching sails were shortened in amain; 
 
 Laborious task! to furl in such a blast, 
 Or on the yard a footing to maintain 
 When deep the vessel heels as ne'er to right again. 
 
And one there \vas among our trusty crew, 
 
 Who sought the lee yard arm — a dangerous post 
 
 When ^\^nds like these so energetic blew. 
 
 He came from Candia, somewhere on the coast, 
 And in his youth, as he was wont to boast, 
 
 Had ser\ed in a smart Levantine polacca ; 
 And oft among the Turks, his corsair host 
 
 Would single out some ship, board her and sack her, 
 And with unchristian gore her pitchy timbers lacker. 
 
 Antonio he was called; nor seaman's life 
 Than his career had e'er so chetjuer'd been; 
 
 With stirring acts each vivid page was rife, 
 Or tinged with hues of many a Horid scene. 
 Such as invest youth's morn with dazzling sheen. 
 
 In manhood's prime again he swept the seas. 
 That stretch the weird Malaysian isles a-tween, 
 
 And oft as flashed his silver-glinting krees, 
 He gave his pirate banner to the piping breeze. 
 
 'Twas said he loved; that disai)pointment fell, 
 With its enduring sting had smote his heart, 
 
 And made of life an ever- burning hell, 
 
 Till all of good expired beneath the smart, 
 And demons rose to play their horrid part. 
 
 He had the air of one subdued by grief — 
 Of one who bore within a restless dart, 
 
 To whom no thing of earth could bring relief; 
 But in his lightest hours black Misery was chief. 
 
 But that was past; the blow had come and gone; 
 
 The wound was healed, though still the scar remained; 
 And oft in merriest mood, some flash upon 
 
 His soul would burst — and there awhile detained — 
 
 Writhe with a woe intense, that lingering reigned 
 Like an unconquered sin; till Pride would bring 
 
 His iron will to bear; Peace then regained 
 Stood fast; while Memory's envenomed sting, 
 Couched in her lair, prepared to make her cat-like spring. 
 
Genius of ill ! that ruthless doth awake 
 The buried shadows of departed years, 
 
 And on our souls in mournful music break 
 The dirges of the dead; and bid our fears 
 Rise with the sound dissolved in kindred tears; 
 
 Alas! how few the joys thy pencil gilds; 
 
 How dark the scene that in thy lune appears! 
 
 When retrosj)ection sweeps the vanished wilds — 
 Her even- backward glance another ruin builds! 
 
 He who hath mused until his mind became 
 
 A boiling gulf of fierce tempestuous thought, 
 Where fiends disported and with tongues of flame 
 
 Up from the deep incessant horrors brought; 
 
 Must by such woe — such hellish sorrow taught — 
 Have cursed the hour of his nativity, 
 
 And longed for respite — respite even sought 
 In cold Occlusion's shadowy apathy; 
 For soul may keenly feel when pulse hath ceased to be. 
 
 And thus Antonio: by continuous woe 
 From cheerful man into a demon turned; 
 
 His sullen breast still owned the fatal blow — 
 Still for one shade his manly spirit burned, 
 One lovely shade in sweet devotion urned; 
 
 And his bronze cheek was plow'd by furrow'd care, 
 The signals of a love that ever yearned, 
 
 That ever felt its yearning empty air, 
 Till it recoiling sank a prey to grim Despair. 
 
 Withal he lived — the wretched often live — 
 When happier beings find untimely tombs; 
 
 Each Fate their proper state doth rightly give — 
 One suffers here — one in immortal glooms — 
 As good or ill their future being dooms. 
 
 So lived Antonio; till the awful roar 
 
 Of coming Death through his rude nature booms, 
 
 Calling his- ghost to that mysterious shore, 
 Whence none who tread its maze can earth again explore. 
 
10 
 
 High swell the >^^nds, as up the tapering stay 
 
 Antonio springs. Thence on tlie yard he goes, 
 O'er which in cascades huge the surges play — 
 
 And there the flapping sail he snugly stows. 
 
 Whilst thus employ 'd, aloft the vessel rose 
 On a vast wave, then plunging lurched a-lee; 
 
 The quick conN'ulsion down Antonio throws 
 From his loose hold into the whelming sea, 
 'Gainst which he long did cojhj in mortal agony. 
 
 Hoarse o'er the deck the dire alarum ran, 
 And far astern the rattling life-line sped — 
 
 Uncoiled in vain; swift from the drowning man 
 The stooping ship in long-vibrations fled, 
 .\nd wintry beat the wave on his devoted head. 
 
 He shouted; but his shrill, ear-piercing cries 
 Bay'd but the winds and filled our hearts with dread 
 
 As fixed perforce we stood; whilst from our eyes 
 The bubbling drops showed how we mourned the sacrifice. 
 
 'Twas done! The drama of his life was played; 
 
 The curtain fell and all of earth had past; 
 The closing debt of Nature had been paid; 
 The full account of his existence cast, 
 And the obstructed .soul was free at last. 
 Nor should we mourn him, or at his swift fate— 
 
 If sudden, not untimely — stand aghast 
 Since once we all must j)ass the dreadful gate, 
 And to the crawling womi our temples dedicate. 
 
 White-starred Orion sinks beyond the deep, 
 And calmer now the dying whirlwinds beat; 
 
 The seas decreasing gradual sink to sleep. 
 And clouds disparting, still on pinions fleet 
 To leeward borne, career in wild retreat — 
 
 Subsides the storm; the night revolving wanes, 
 And mom awakes our weary eyes to greet; 
 
 Then o'er the void a calm unbroken reigns; — 
 Three days the vessel hangs, nor breath of wind obtains. 
 
11 
 
 Three days wind-bound she burned beneath the sun 
 That cloudless shot its fiery-natured rays; 
 
 When, as the eveninp^ shades descended dun, 
 A languid breeze across the ocean plays — 
 Its urging force the yielding ship obeys. 
 
 Then soon upon our beam a coast appear'd, 
 
 Whose vernal heights awoke our loudest praise — 
 
 Whilst Expectation, every bosom cheer'd. 
 As tow'rd the smiling shore our wonted course we veer'd. 
 
 He who hath tost upon the restless seas 
 
 Whilst months unvaried rolled above his head — 
 
 Dull months, surcharged with grim uncertainties. 
 And all the dangerous toils the deeps bestead 
 On such as may their treacherous mazes thread; 
 
 How hath he felt his pulse vibrate anew 
 When slow emerging from its watery bed — 
 
 Thin as a vaj)or and as ether blue. 
 Some land's dim outline beamed auspicious to his view 
 
 High beat our hearts as brighter morning grew. 
 
 And dim revealed, amid the purple haze — 
 As silky mists aside their curtains drew — 
 
 A lofty shore, to each expectant gaze. 
 
 A shore with beauty clad, that might amaze 
 The ardent Moslem, who in feverish dreams 
 
 Foresees that blissful land, where houries' blaze, 
 Sweet gardens bloom, and by clear-tinkling streams, 
 The faithful gently rest while Joy perpetual beams. 
 
 Such this fair land. Soon on the placid tide 
 Near quiet Auckland we at anchor swing; 
 
 Anon with rapid keel the wave divide, 
 
 As in the launch our sweeps resounding spring — 
 To shoreward bent on subtle bartering. 
 
 The strand attained; out from the boat we leap 
 And join a troop of savages, who bring 
 
 Barbaric objects all cast in a heap, 
 Which like sly Jews they vow to barter very cheap. 
 
12 
 
 We met these natives several leagues north-west 
 Of Auckland; on a wide and barren shore 
 
 Where spir}' fern-trees waved in wild unrest, 
 And rifted rocks with yellow lichens hoar 
 Strew'd the sea's-margin in confusion oer. 
 
 Whilst far south-east, a lonely mountain rose, 
 Whose peak no foot had ventured to explore, 
 
 For thus the wise-men say — the legend goes — 
 That round its granite head a storm malignant blows. 
 
 Extending west two lofty peaks appear, 
 
 Once horrid in volcanic energy. 
 But now extina; bold, ru^ed, bleak and sere, 
 
 They sullen stand in sad tor|)idity, 
 
 Whilst round their craters mingled hideously 
 Huge scoria-blocks oppress the rocky sides, — 
 
 Huge lava-tracks still rug the blasted lea — 
 Or from the ledge that land and sea divides 
 In shivering columns yawn above the chafing tides. 
 
 'Twas daring Tasman and his roving crew 
 
 Who first these islands in their wanderings found; 
 
 When hither led in quest of countries new; 
 
 Then heard one night the rolling breakers sound, 
 The next at anchor lay in harbor-bound; 
 
 Upon thy cliflfs Eaheianowmawe, first 
 
 His vision glanced; yet must his teeth have ground 
 
 When thee, or Tavia Poenamoo, he burst 
 From his torn jaws. Lud, how the Dutchman must have curst ! 
 
 But if infernal in their names, these isles 
 
 Are by boon Nature with rich gifts endow 'd 
 Such as few lands may boast. Yet vicious wiles 
 
 Their copper hosts in a dark mantle cloud. 
 
 A stalwart race are they, self-will'd and proud, 
 Revengeful, fierce, and as a tiger cruel; 
 
 Thus when a foe is caught th' inhuman crowd 
 Consign him to a stack of blazing fuel; 
 Then eat him with the gust of Scotchmen eating gruel. 
 
13 
 
 Meanwhile as on the sandy beach we stood, 
 A runner from an ancient chieftain came 
 
 Desiring us to visit — if we would — 
 
 His kingly home, as helpless, old and lame 
 He lay bed-ridden — living on the fame 
 
 Won when he joy'd in manhood's vigorous prime. 
 Ere long we went — for commerce was our aim- 
 
 And led, began a mountain-side to climb. 
 Till reached a grot we saw a relic of old Time. 
 
 Dark was the grot, worn in a hollow crag 
 Impending from the mount's basaltic side, 
 
 Mete dwelling for some foul night-haunting hag; 
 Or yelling ghost, or evil thing to bide. 
 Or witch her spell to ply at eventide. 
 
 Blood-freezing, too, as Winter's frigid scowl, 
 
 This maori dread; where many chiefs had died; 
 
 And gave their flesh to the carnivorous fowl, 
 Which wheeling overhead in doleful flocks did howl. 
 
 We boldly prest into the gloomy grot. 
 
 And soon distinguish'd through the twilight shade 
 A withered being on a leafy cot. 
 
 By a slow fire, almost untended laid. 
 
 But one, a dark and pleasant-featur'd maid 
 Stood by the couch of her expiring sire; 
 
 In gleaming jad and maro white array 'd, 
 While oft she smote a rude, canorous lyre 
 As if to soothe the soul so wrought with anguish dire. 
 
 Bu^ when the dusky maid ourselves beheld. 
 She ceas'd to play and trembled in afi"right, 
 
 While frequent sobs in sad succession well'd 
 From her lorn breast. Betimes a xarying light 
 Glanc'd from her eyes, dark as the noon of night. 
 
 She seemed so kind, so beautiful, so good, 
 That the most rugged softened at the sight; 
 
 And wrapt in wonder bold" Ben Nebo stood, 
 While warm Desire aroused the current of his blood. 
 
14 
 
 Nor deem him weak within whose fier)- veins 
 Love's gushing torrent rolls its molten stream, 
 
 'Tis Nature's self, this v.ondrous law ordains, 
 
 And cliarms the sense with glowing thoughts, that seem 
 But the wild fancies of a heated dream. 
 
 'Tis Nature's self ihat cheers this lower state 
 With Love's magnetic and exciting l>eam; 
 
 That man may feel — and feeling recreate 
 In pleasures which the dreams of Heaven ante-date. 
 
 But if each breast in loving tumult heaved, 
 
 Still it was held within decorous bound, 
 For all were with the sad event aggrieved 
 
 And sorrow'd for the maid in anguish drown'd; 
 
 For men at limes with humane hearts are found. 
 And gazing on the chief — a deep-drawn sigh 
 
 Foretold th' event. Mad-like he glared around. 
 In Deaths rude grasp convuls'd. Then glaz'd his eye, 
 The dank sweat stood upon his brow — he soon must die. 
 
 Ere long he went the ever solemn way 
 
 That all 'must pass who eat of mortal food; 
 
 And as inane u|>on the couch he lay. 
 
 His beauteous child with tears his brow bedew'd, 
 And fragrant flowers upon his bosom strew'd. 
 
 Anon with pliant hand her liarp she strung, 
 And sang his praise in elegiac rude; 
 
 Sonorous forth her plaintive voice she flung, 
 And Echo shrill replied the answ'ring woods among. 
 
 Ben Nebo heard enrapt those ditties wild. 
 As at the cavern's mouth he i)ensive stood 
 
 Gazing upon the maid, by love beguil'd. 
 In feverish, dreamy and uncertain mood. 
 As passion kindled in his glowing blood. 
 
 Yet he was not of common dust; he dealt 
 Severely with the sports of Earth, pursued 
 
 By her poor parasites. Yet now he felt — 
 Ignoble thought! his heart in soft affection melt. 
 
15 
 
 Nor proof against his love-inciting glance 
 
 Was she — nymph of this rude volcanic glade; 
 
 Coy in her tearful eye a flash would dance 
 That could alight a hermit's bosom staid, 
 And oft had havoc of lorn striplings made. 
 
 Her gaze on Nebo fell, and added flame 
 On his awaking love was surely laid. 
 
 His whole frame kindled. He was not the same 
 Now as erstwhile unto this fated place he came. 
 
 Ere long a troop of Maori's thread the cave, 
 
 And bade the maiden hasten swift away; 
 For day hung trembling o'er the western wave, 
 
 And fixed for sea their lengthy barges lay; 
 
 Obedient to their will she ceased to play, 
 And sobbing left the cell; whilst all our band 
 
 Departing, coursed the deep-ilcscending way. 
 But yet afore we reached the open strand 
 Gray shadows stooped ui)On the circumambient land. 
 
 And when the sea's wide margin was attain'd — 
 When sooty Night her veil incumbent spread 
 
 On flood and fell, with keen emotion pain'd, 
 We found that Nebo, who had walked ahead, 
 Had from the ranks most singularly fled. 
 
 The alarum given; at a halt we stood, 
 
 Unslung our firelocks, and, with stealthy tread 
 
 Through the dark glen our restless search j)ursued, 
 And oftentimes we {)aused and lustily hallooed. 
 
 In vain; but Echo, from her weird recess 
 
 Repeating, murmured to each wild halloo; 
 Till with misgivings none would fain express, 
 
 We stopp'd awhile uncertain what to do; 
 
 When from a copse near by, a whistle blew. 
 And instantly a shower of arrows fell 
 
 Among our ranks. At once to arms we flew, 
 Pour'd forth a volley, which produced a yell 
 From the swart wretches. Then, we turned and crost the dell. 
 
16 
 
 And on a ridge, like tigers held at bay, 
 
 We kept our station all that ling'ring night, 
 
 Unmoved till dawn; then formed in close array 
 We made a charge to terminate the fight — 
 We charged, and put the siwages to flight; 
 
 Then as we chased the |)anic-stricken men, 
 Our hearts no mercj' knew; but grim delight 
 
 We felt, ai> furious through the rugged glen 
 We gave them rolls of shot until they howled again. 
 
 Still Nebo came not; nor a single trace 
 
 Of him, far as we sought was visible. 
 Sudden he disappear'd, and at a place 
 
 Where woods of densest growth o'er-hung the fell, 
 
 And splinter'd chasms yawned all terrible — 
 Here he was lost; tho' through what cause, in vain 
 
 We strove to know. Still most believed the .spell 
 That bore him hence, was that pernicious bane 
 Of weak-souled man — a woman — save this canting strain! 
 
 Is woman, then, a source of ill to man? 
 
 It cannot be! 'Twas Nature sent her here 
 His ills to soothe, but not his ire to fan; 
 
 To temper every blast that circles near; 
 
 To love and cheer him as a being dear. 
 For this she lives; and as your husband teaches, 
 
 Your matron follows up her part austere — 
 Hugs, cooks, doats, toils, and even neatly stitches 
 That most rejmlsive thing — a jKiir of worn out breeches. 
 
 Is woman, then, the enemy of man.? 
 
 She who will love him so that e'en his pants — 
 Snip's curse upon them! pass beneath her scan. 
 
 And those sweet eyes that kindle at a glance 
 
 O'er torn limb-covers sharply look askance. 
 Is she his foe.^ She who would do all this? 
 
 Hear Echo answer, no! What can enhance 
 Man's comfort more — What so increase his bliss, 
 As a sweet woman who in nothing is remiss? 
 
.17 
 
 A truce to preaching. As the sun declined 
 
 We reached our boats and o'er the chafing main 
 
 Swift-puUing sought the brig, aggrieved to find 
 No sign of our lost comrade; but again 
 Resolved to press no more the Maori plain, 
 
 Straitway uphove our chain; and smart the breeze 
 That filled our sails. Yet as we toiled amain, 
 
 A seaman, on the beach a figure sees; 
 And cries vociferous rise in sounding melodies. 
 
 Our task laborious for awhile we stay'd; 
 
 Our glasses on the stranger bring to bear, 
 And gladly scan through the involving shade 
 
 Our bold Ben Nebo. Soon a lusty pair 
 
 Of oarsmen in the gig, no labor spare 
 To fetch the truant to his pitchy home. 
 
 Thence safe install'd, he told with simple air 
 How he from the land-rovers came to roam; 
 But we'll be brief, for all he said would fill a tome. 
 
 The cause of his evanishment, was this: 
 
 That being caught in Love's pernicious snare, 
 
 He had determined — though he went to Dis — 
 To seize the dusky maid — and perforce bear 
 Her to the brig. Yet ere the deed he dare 
 
 Attempt, a band of Maoris plac'd amid 
 A thicket sent a shower of arrows fair 
 
 A-past his ears; but the thick darkness hid 
 Him from their aim. He fled; and where a pyramid 
 
 Of rock arose he made a warlike stand 
 
 Against the cruel hordes that battled round; 
 
 But when in pieces flew his shivered brand. 
 Death had indeed the misadventure crown'd 
 Had he in timely flight no refuge found. 
 
 Thence safe he lay conceal'd in forest close, 
 Whilst serpent-like his crafty foe-men wound 
 
 Through the dark wood. At length reliev'd of foes, 
 He sallied from his lair and to the sea-shore gees. 
 
18 
 
 But though escap'd with life, he was, in sooth, 
 
 A man of grief — sad to the last degree — 
 For hopeless Love frowned on his oj^ening youth, 
 
 And ever)' year increased his miser)'; 
 
 But still his cup full as it seem'd to be, 
 Was yet to darken with a deadlier gall; 
 
 A wilder wave must nxg his angry sea; 
 A dismal blast descend surpassing all — 
 And gloomy Desolation on his bos(Mii fall. 
 
 Avast! let Luna-smitten songsters sing 
 
 The pangs of hojieless I-X)vc in measured state! 
 We, who cold-blooded are in every thing 
 
 Are somewhat skeptic on that pensive fate — 
 
 The ghostly vajx)r of a morbid pate. 
 If such there be — as poets represent — 
 
 Unhappy lovers forced to separate. 
 And moan through drear)' years with sorrow shent, 
 Then by the gods 'tis well when they with earth are blent 
 
 Three weeks revolve: and now afloat again 
 We sweep excursive o'er the lawless wave; 
 
 Nor aught of ill ex|)erience; nor restrain 
 
 Our course, till Farewell, from his briny grave 
 Cloud-cappd ascends. Then rude the tempests rave; 
 
 But nautic skill prevails their fury o'er. 
 
 And smoother seas at length our channels lave; 
 
 North-curving now we seek the broken shore, 
 Press through the boisterous straits and see the Cape no more. 
 
 Chain-bound we swing. Ashore the seamen leap; 
 
 Engage in barter with a swarthy band, 
 Who had of native wares a motley heap, 
 
 Such as are wrought by many a skilful hand — 
 
 By nature taught — within this unknown land; 
 And they — the people — were a noble race — 
 
 Few forms so perfect eye of limner scann'd; 
 Yet quaint tattoo disfigured every face, 
 Where untam'd Passion left its grim, repellent trace. 
 
19 
 
 Uncouth the manners of these vengeful tribes — 
 
 As polar night their minds barbaric dark; 
 These briefly th' untutored muse describes, 
 
 Or rather customs worthy of remark; 
 
 Thus, wlien in death a ^Iaori lieth stark, 
 They think three days from thence, his heart away 
 
 Is borne, closed in a shell of kouri bark, 
 By a huge angel, swift to climes that lay 
 Beyond the molten disk, there as a soul to stay. 
 
 Here in the midst of pleasure, quite at ease 
 
 The hearty ghost maintains an envied state — 
 Alone it lives. No other ghost can tease 
 
 (Jr maul, when once 't has left its fleshy weight 
 
 Like an old chrysalis, to dessicate 
 On this dry earth. But in that blest abode 
 
 All sorts of pleasures tend to elevate; 
 Which to enjoy, should make a man unload 
 Life's mighty burden, and pursue so fair a road. 
 
 And suicide, that rather doubtful act 
 The stolid Maori deems a proj^er deed; 
 
 Nor on the couch of anguish long be rack'd, 
 When from a scratch an artery can bleed. 
 And his good heart from every trouble freed, 
 
 Find sweet repose in its appointed Heaven; 
 
 But women most, who most may Heaven need. 
 
 Affect this sort of soul-exalting leaven; 
 And to one man self-slain of women there are seven, 
 
 For instance, 'tis a very common thing. 
 
 For maids to whom Love's favors come amiss. 
 To end their mishaps by a sliding string, 
 
 And slip their souls into eternal bliss — 
 
 A most judicious policy is this. 
 Ay, even matrons who have wrought to passion 
 
 Their loving lords, and felt a cudgel kiss 
 Their shoulders, have eschewed another lashin'. 
 By cutting their dear throats. A very worthy fashion. 
 
20 
 
 And quite worth copying by our christian dames; 
 
 As then of nuptial ills there mijj^ht Ix? less, 
 And less of those debasing midnight games, 
 
 That sometimes Wedlock's votaries distress, 
 
 With pangs that celibates could ne'er depress. 
 For if they used the Maori's hard decree — 
 
 That wives when flogg'd should turn to nothingness, 
 A horsewhip would set ill-match'd couples free, 
 Silence their growls — egad! and help morality. 
 
 But if from saN'age ethics we should scorn 
 To learn, let us the fierce liarbarian view 
 
 With some attention, as of fable shorn 
 He stands in his primeval nature true, 
 Disclosing traits that moralists may rue. 
 
 How strange the i)hases of our mortal race! 
 How strong in all is evil shadow'd through! 
 
 How hard to deem such grovelling things the place, 
 The shrine, of a pure flame that time cannot efface! 
 
 But who shall judge.-* Perhaps in the vilest, dwells 
 That which may live when planets have expired; 
 
 There is in man a monitor that tells 
 Of an immortal something; but enwired 
 In fleshly coils, that yield not as desired; 
 
 It lies in cryptic bars im bound, close pent 
 Like a caged eagle, whose spirit fired 
 
 With thoughts exultant as for Heaven meant — 
 Shackled remains — a soul — with callow ashes blent. 
 
 Terrific thought! Is man a deathless thing.? 
 
 Will he exist when known no longer here? 
 If so, 'tis well to give up vaporing 
 
 And trim the sails anew; nor more career 
 
 In those fell tracks through which so many steer. 
 Life's but a dream — a little puppet show — 
 
 Compared to what may be beyond the bier; 
 If all its years were prest into one woe, 
 They would not make the wise one joy of Heaven forego. 
 
21 
 
 What is this world; what are its trifling joys 
 To him who hears the last sad tocsin sound? 
 
 When all that's beautiful his fancy cloys, 
 And his wan sight, wliere'er it glares around 
 Sees but a hollow in the yawning ground. 
 
 How vain, how pigmy, then all earth appears, 
 How dread the future deep in horrors drowned. 
 
 How much the soul the doubtful exit fears; 
 And anguish in each sigh foreboding Conscience hears. 
 
 Enough of this cant, theologic stuflf— 
 
 Out on the man who would his betters teach! 
 
 He merits for his pains a sound rebuff; 
 
 For 'tis the height of impudence to preach, 
 Or with rude sense the chafing rabble teach. 
 
 The wisest mind will on itself revert, 
 
 And by exi)erience warned, like flint, to each 
 
 Gregarian sentiment remain inert; 
 The dullest student thinks the wisest tutor pert. 
 
 Whilst thronged upon the shell-bespangled strand 
 Our men a commerce with the blacks essay 'd. 
 
 The chief Tom-a-tee-wa-kee, and a band 
 Of giant guards, a first appearance made, 
 Stalking ih lordly pride the vernal glade. 
 
 A man of war this chief— 'his endless name 
 Was syllabled afar. 'Twas grimly said 
 
 That when Tasman unto this island came, 
 He ate a whole boat's crew and made a deathless fame. 
 
 As on the beach he stood, his tawny hand 
 
 Vain-glorious swayed a stony-headed spear; 
 Two anklets wrought of jad his ankles spann'd. 
 
 And coral drops hung pendant from each ear; 
 
 But what the timid most did strike with fear, 
 Were blood-red patches o'er his features smear'd, 
 
 So that he made a figure rather queer 
 To contemplate; but woe to such as sneer'd, 
 Since in his own conceit, perfection he appeared. 
 
22 
 
 Nor on his face alone vermilion glowed, 
 
 Big rings of crimson 'bout his limbs were placed, 
 Whilst lurid moons in hideous glor)' showed 
 
 A wavering cluster round his naked waist, 
 
 By a light maro negligently braced. 
 A king he was: beneath a moa's plume 
 
 He slootl like some old god in splendor graced, 
 Whose glance might |)enetrate the farthest glotim; 
 Bid Nature smile serene, or funeral garbs assume. 
 
 But most he gloried in an ornament 
 That kings had seldom worn upon their backs, 
 
 Save when u|)on the scaffold overbent; 
 It was but a ship-car|)enter's broad-axe 
 Fit to fell spars or beat off deck attacks; 
 
 Which as a present came from Captain Cook, 
 Who sent it by a dozen well-armed jacks. 
 
 The shining pledge our chief delighted took — 
 Then hung it from his neck to make him better look. 
 
 Meanwhile we traded; and like traders smart, 
 
 Extoll'd our own and damn'd the Maori wares; 
 In short, engaged in every trading art — 
 
 To plant our coils or scape our neighbor's snares; 
 
 For he who in commercial matters spares. 
 Is a mere fool; since if our sight be true 
 
 Twould be as safe to thread brigandish lairs 
 With a fat wallet; as in business, to 
 Look for fair-dealing when so many like to jew. 
 
 When the Sinopean with his greasy link 
 Went barking out to seek an honest man, 
 
 He must have been a little daft, to think 
 
 That with a common flambeau, he could scan 
 That creature never known since time began. 
 
 Though often sought, remaining still unknown; 
 A phoenix in the great creative plan; — 
 
 A priceless gift from human bosoms flown; 
 Enough to make a god though held itself alone. 
 
23 
 
 "An honest man's the noblest work of God": — 
 So wrote that curt, incisive genius, Pope; 
 And, whilst accordant to its truth we nod, 
 The axiom cuts into the heart of Hope, 
 And Nature vainly emulates the trope. 
 Withal, the world survives the bitter loss, 
 Or, if it feel, can with its sorrow coj>e. 
 An honest man no doubt — like gold in dross — 
 Might with pure lustre shine; but who would bear his cross? 
 
 To be eccentric by the mob is deemed 
 A woful, or at least unseemly, sign; 
 
 An independent mind is ill esteemed. 
 By oafs who never trespass on the line 
 Which Fashion sets, her vassals to confine. 
 
 Hence woe to him who, in this l)iping age, 
 
 Would as an "honest man" his course define — 
 
 Right soon would he in Bedlam find a cage. 
 Or in inch peices rent attest the public rage. 
 
 Go to, thou preacher — cease thy irksome strain! 
 
 These dull, long-winded dissertations fly; 
 Resume thy j)rime discourse, and tell again 
 
 How pass'd events our hardy seamen by. 
 
 Soon as dusk Kve in shadows brooded nigh, 
 A maid ap])ears! Fair is her blooming form, 
 
 And coy the glance of her expressive eye; 
 Long are her locks, and red her lips, and warm 
 Her winning smile — 'twould take the coldest heart by storm. 
 
 Clad in such charms, no wonder if this maid 
 Were by our heroes very much admired; 
 
 For man is with such wanton thoughts inlaid 
 That by a simple look his blood is fired. 
 And Reason sinks in sodden passion mired. 
 
 Pale Virtue, then, completely jmt to rout, 
 
 Retreats till Pleasure gains what Love desired; 
 
 Which, after all, is hardly worth a flout — 
 Venus insidious lures, then rudely turns you out. 
 
34 
 
 Pernicious goddess! sent to trouble man 
 With thy all-powerful — all-alluring bane; 
 
 Chief of our ills, since mother Eve began 
 To long for that whose sad effect was Cain — 
 Whose sad effect still haunts the human strain. 
 
 Nor with the heart alone thy mission ends; 
 But at thy mercy oft our purse is lain; 
 
 And when thy worshipper his cash expends, 
 Cast from thy arms to rot the hapless wretch descends. 
 
 As stood the maid within an etsy ken, 
 
 Ned liastion's eyes her buxom charms explore; 
 
 With heated blood he gazed, deep blushing, when 
 Her eyes gave forth their hot, electric store, 
 And conjured fancies full of love galore. 
 
 She, too, obedient to a subtle power. 
 
 Felt weird sensations through her bosom pour; 
 
 And shivering at the lad's magnetic lower. 
 Shrunk like some tender plant that at the storm doth cower. 
 
 Ned saw her tremor, and like a bold tar — 
 Never to war, or grog, or love averse — 
 
 Resolved to win the prize, should nothing mar 
 The course he laid. So first his beaded purse 
 He gave to smooth the way — ne'er a whit worse 
 
 For such fair grading. Then his wiles he plied. 
 Till close-besieged Love cried for quarter; terse 
 
 Was his answer. As fell the eventide. 
 Afar with glowing steps he bore the willing bride. 
 
 The bull-horn 'd moon above the woods arose, 
 
 Diffusing round a pale, mysterious light, 
 When from an arduous search, the sailors close, 
 
 And meditate on Ba.stion's sudden flight. 
 
 Some wished to seek him even thro' the night, 
 But others on the project sternly frowned. 
 
 And urged it best to wait till morn, when right 
 They could the wilds explore. Meanwhile profound 
 And dense, confluent clouds the waning orb surround. 
 
25 
 
 While yet they stood in doubtful council bound, 
 Led by the mate, who acted as their chief, 
 
 A lengthen'd yell burst from the woods around. 
 Grim-startling all. At once for fell relief 
 To arms they flew; and from a neighboring reef 
 
 Stood fast — whilst arrows sped in whistling showers, 
 Sore-wounding several — and one man, Tom Keef, 
 
 Death-laying on the rock. Fierce battle lowers. 
 Shots, yells, and imprecations fill the silvan bowers. 
 
 But such a stream of missiles on them rained, 
 That they at last were driven to the beach; 
 
 And leaping in their boats, awhile sustained 
 The brunt unflinching, pent within the reach 
 Of the barbaric darts. At length, when each 
 
 Had half-a-dozen hideous injuries got, 
 
 They desp'ratc grew, together made a breach, 
 
 And raked the foe with fusilades of shot. 
 Whilst heaps of swarthy dead begrimed th' accursed spot. 
 
 Meanwhile they set the carpenter to work, 
 Who of some timbers built a sturdy screen; 
 
 Behind this all the crew did closely lurk. 
 And fire whene'er the crafty foes were seen 
 To issue from their covert, and between 
 
 The arching trees discharge their weapons rude. 
 But though our men maintain'd a dauntless mien. 
 
 The Maoris were with such fierce rage endued, 
 That neither vantage gained in the protracted feud. 
 
 While yet the seamen held their wav'ring state, 
 A sullen boom rolled o'er the ruffled deep: 
 
 A signal from the ship, bidding the mate 
 
 And his bold comrades from the battle keep. 
 And swift unto the waiting vessel sweep. 
 
 They heed the summons: soon her pitchy walls 
 Receive them from the waves that warring leap. 
 
 The windlass arm; and as the tempest falls. 
 Heave round the rattling coils tim'd by the clanging pauls. 
 
 ''V£Ra,T. \ 
 
26 
 
 The moon recedes beyond the misty west, 
 And all around but foaming billows play; 
 
 Swift wing the frigate-birds in wild unrest, 
 And shrieking the descending orbic bay, 
 Whilst fast the trader plows her onward way. 
 
 The land is gone, no more its rocky arms 
 A shelter lend, no more its shoals betray; 
 
 All, all have pass'd, and sea-born storms and calms, 
 And terrors unexpress'd here vent their dread alarms. 
 
 Canto II. 
 
 Ye shrill sea-breezes that so plaintive sigh 
 O'er the bleak bosom of the slee])less sea: — 
 
 Sing as resounds your doleful lullaby. 
 Of .such as exiled from the peaceful lea, 
 Feel thy sharp fangs in full .severity; 
 
 In thunder tones, O ocean! roll along 
 
 The dark, dark woe of those whom Destiny 
 
 Dooms o'er the lawless wave their course prolong- 
 Caerulean Neptune join, O join the mournful song! 
 
 As the free bird that cleaves the boundless air 
 With nought to interrupt her forward flight. 
 
 So once again the dashing sea we dare. 
 And fly exultant on the tempest's might, 
 While swift astern the billow flashes white; 
 
 And sweet the joy we feel, when piping loud 
 The wild wind whistles round the topmast light. 
 
 Strains the taut sail and murmurs thro' the shroud, 
 Whilst on the good ship flies with vibrant force endowed. 
 
Lost was Ned Bastion. Oblivion drew 
 
 O'er him a veil which none could penetrate; 
 
 Nor to be lifted, till with hand anew 
 Upon the tablets of omniscient Fate, 
 Should rise cxpos'd each vague, mysterious trait. 
 
 So let him rest. Nor on his errors dwell; 
 Nor anxious on his doubtful end debate — 
 
 Since 'tis the same, where'er we cast the shell 
 When we shall cease to be, all equal slumber well. 
 
 Cook's fretful Straits have far to windward past, 
 
 And smiling skies inspire each hopeful breast; 
 The course for Santelmo is set; and fast 
 
 Before fresh aiding gales the trader prest; 
 
 And by no ill-presaging sign distrest. 
 The men rejoice. To merriment give rein; 
 
 Huge canteens flow — rude music adds its zest; 
 They dance, they revel, and they sing amain; 
 And long as storms permit their jocund sports maintain. 
 
 Ah, could we thus with lithesome folly cheer 
 The cold dull round of this attritious life. 
 
 Less grim, less absolute, it might apj^ar — 
 Man less with upas attributes seem rife, 
 And to exist require less bitter strife. 
 
 But no! this is a dismal phce of tears, 
 
 Where to each heart Destruction holds a knife: 
 
 He who with mirth his cup of sorrow cheers. 
 Like a mad clown among a troop of ghosts appears. 
 
 Who stranger is to woe.'' Whose breast ne'er felt 
 The arrowy thought of that terrific hour 
 
 When flesh shall into mould'ring ashes melt, 
 And all that lived, at Death's corrosive lower, 
 Yield all its beauty, all its pomp, and power. 
 
 Who hath not trembled at the very thought, 
 And felt the sweetest cup of pleasure sour. 
 
 That all he loved, lived for, and wrought. 
 Must feed the livid worm, and crumble into nought? 
 
28 
 
 111 boots it what our state, when earthward prone 
 We hear the clarion callinp^ us to leave 
 
 This shallow world, and enter all alone 
 
 The mansions of the dead. How deep we grieve 
 To part, for on this little scene we weave 
 
 Those fragile woofs our wonder and delight — 
 Alas! so often shining to deceive. 
 
 Poor timid things! We loathe so far a flight; 
 Fearful if lost the way we plunge in endless night. 
 
 What riseth dimly on the briny verge 
 
 With rugged peak ascending to the sky.-* 
 'Tis fair Santelmo, centred on the surge, 
 
 Aloof from all the isles, that clust'ring lie 
 
 Ikneath A.scian's azure canopy. 
 Here like some goddess of the deep, she stands; 
 
 Whose strength alone the tempest can defy, 
 
 Nor Ocean heed, though harsh upon her sands 
 
 He leads with sullen rein his rude, impetuous bands. 
 
 As to our gaze the island plainer grew, 
 
 A hideous spectre caught each startled eye; 
 By whirlwinds urged across the deep, it blew 
 
 Till on our lx?am it foaming thundered by; 
 
 Alarmed we saw the watery spire draw nigh, 
 And steer almost athwart the traders' course; 
 
 While round the billows heave, and upward fly, 
 Till one huge jet revolves with lightning force: 
 Loud howl the curling winds; seas raging bellow hoarse. 
 
 Our gunner comes: the starboard guns are primed. 
 
 Their muzzles on the watery column bear; 
 Quick as the vessel lurched — by order timed — 
 
 The linstocks on the nitrous i)riming flare; 
 
 One loud concussion rends the trembling air. 
 Re-echoing ocean murmurs to the roar 
 
 Deep as the lion thunders, when his lair 
 Invasive feels the foe. Down-crashing pour 
 The broken torrents vast; and lo! the peril's o'er! 
 
29 
 
 The transient deluge past; our course again 
 
 For Santelnio's uprising shores we held; 
 When, as the glaring day began to wane, 
 
 Oer a long shelf where high the breakers swell'd; 
 
 Into a landlocked cove the brig impell'd; 
 Here laid secure, we swing at anchor bound 
 
 Amid a scene whose weird enchantment spell'd 
 Our souls as with a talisman; around 
 Romantic prospects rose with ncmorous beauties crowned. 
 
 Soon as the crimson beams of daylight rose, 
 Away to land our men for water rowed; 
 
 Moor near a fount, whose cr)'stal current flows 
 
 Low-bickering down a ledge. The casks they load, 
 And strong- lashed, in appointed order stowed. 
 
 This done, in dalliance for awhile on shore 
 They roam excursivcA As along they strode, 
 
 With wistful eyes they scan the landscape o'er, 
 And muse on scenes whose like none e'er beheld before. 
 
 Scenes bright as visions of that beauteous home, 
 Islam's great Prophet promiscth the blest; 
 
 Led by sweet houries, ever pleased, they roam 
 Through fairy regions of enchanted rest. 
 Where suns are clear; fields alway vernal drest; 
 
 W'oods thick with leaves; and flower)- all the dales. 
 Where brooklets wind; and o'er the lakelet's breast 
 
 The sacred bird in tuneful joyance sails, 
 And beats with flapping wing the spicy-laden gales. 
 
 Here in this isle a dreamy beauty reigned; 
 
 Soft overhead the fleecy clouds appeared; 
 Harmonious warblers in the woods maintained 
 
 A joyous chorus that diffusive cheered — 
 
 Our seamen wondering at the music weird. 
 Delicious languor, too, her elfin woof 
 
 Spread o'er the lands. Romance each spot endear'd; 
 Still unimprest by man's destructive hoof, 
 All-glorious Nature bloomed from human wiles aloof. 
 
30 
 
 Here the wild bee pursued its droning flight, 
 
 Industrious plunderer of the honeyed flowers; 
 And chiming through tlie long moon-shining night 
 
 Sad campanero tolled the waning hours; 
 
 Or, sealed amid the deep umbnigcous bowers, 
 Her dual note the lonely cuckoo plays; 
 
 Whilst — keen prcsagcr of approaching showers — 
 The restless heron flutters through the maze. 
 Or, from some blasted tree th' :vrial tumult bays. 
 
 Eld trees arise: grim druids of the wood, 
 Long since beshorn of their prime loveliness, 
 
 Solemn they frown uj)on the solitude; 
 Whilst younger monarchs tenderly caress 
 Their gay comi)anions, and with pomp impress 
 
 The neighboring scenery. Ten thousand dyes 
 Imprint the glebe; and in each green recess 
 
 Sun-colored fruits the dazzled eye surprise, 
 And the prospective still in varied beauty vies. 
 
 Prime over all the Artocarpus reigns — 
 Majestic monarch of the torrid zone — 
 
 From whose all-generous and prolific veins, 
 As winds among his topmost branches moan. 
 The goodly bread-fruit is spontaneous thrown. 
 
 Tree of the countless isles! Thou beauteous thing- 
 Thou life dispenser; what could e'er atone 
 
 The loss of thee.** whence blessings constant spring; 
 Nature's auspicious gift, Ascian muses sing! 
 
 Ascia's dusky race thy fruit maintains; 
 
 Thy bark a shelter offers from the heat; 
 From thy light wood the swift canoe obtains; 
 
 As plates thy leaves support the frugal treat; 
 
 And from thy pores glutinous juices sweet 
 Distilled, the pangs of fiery thirst abate; 
 
 Or lime exude to snare th' ortolans feet; 
 No part of thee is waste. Benignant Fate, 
 Thee into being called sharp misery to rebate. 
 
31 
 
 Whilst gazing on the varied prospect round, 
 On a tall hummock the bold seamen stood, 
 
 And saw immured in shady groves profound, 
 A hamlet just obtruding through the wood — 
 Sole sign of man in this deep solitude. 
 
 Fired at the sight; all caution cast aside; 
 And vowed with many an exclamation rude, 
 
 That if the chief should not averse decide, 
 To reach the village ere descent of eventide. 
 
 Permission given, at once they haste away. 
 
 Led by the mate, and well supplied with arms; 
 When, just as shut the drooping lid of day, 
 
 Their van vociferous the watch alarms; 
 
 Men sought their spears, and maids conceal'd their charms. 
 But mauger all; they marched into the town — 
 
 A pretty place o'ergrown by waving palms; 
 When soon they met^a native with a crown; 
 He was a king they found — else they had knocked him down. 
 
 Soon as he saw them, his sardonic mien 
 Vouchsafed to wrinkle with an ugly smile; 
 
 He turned and led them to an arbor green, 
 Where he was wont his liesure to beguile, 
 And toy with maidens loveliest of the isle; 
 
 Thence he produced a most substantial cheer; 
 Flesh, herbs and fruit, and fish aglow in oil; 
 
 And bade them eat, nor aught of evil fear; 
 For he by Nature was a generous cavalier. 
 
 Withal they longed for an inspiring taste 
 Of cr)'stal whisky or brown-colored rum; 
 
 Either of which when ardently embraced, 
 Will act the part of a funereal drum. 
 And tap a man head-first to regions glum. 
 
 They had no grog. To ease this want severe. 
 Old cocoa-toddy served their wits to numb — 
 
 And so 'twixt many an oath, and many a leer. 
 They swore their host was quite a royal grenadier. 
 
32 
 
 Nor stopt his bounty here. It farther spread, 
 
 And joys provided of a fairer kind; 
 His guests into a spacious hut he led, 
 
 And to each tar a buxom girl assigned, 
 
 In whom a Pasha might new pleasure find; 
 And when like doves the wanton throngs were paired; 
 
 He bade a fluter raise the sounding-wind, 
 Whereat each maid her agile figure bared. 
 And wjth our fervid men in mazy dancing shared. 
 
 Bismillah! 'twould astound a sultan's eyes 
 To see those dark girls in that amorous dance; 
 
 As each coy maid her toil enslaving plies, 
 Her lover's native ardor to enchance 
 And steep his soul in Passion's molten trance; 
 
 Whilst as she swept in graceful circles round. 
 Desires' hot wishes flashed in every glance. 
 
 And firing at each warm, bewildering bound, 
 Longed in fruition's dreams to find those wishes crowned. 
 
 Out on the dance! it is the vilest thing 
 
 The cloven-footed genius ever brought 
 Into this world; virtue to loose, and fling 
 
 Light-headed souls, by rapid motion caught, 
 
 Into the gulf — or better, into naught. 
 Out on the dance! "Fis in the giddy reel 
 
 The plastic virgin Love's delights is taught; 
 When made the pressing hand betimes to feel, 
 Her bosom throbs with thoughts 'twere safer to conceal. 
 
 Forbear! These natives are a comely race — 
 
 True sons of Anak, as their stature quite 
 O'er-topt our tallest lad — Alonzo Brace, 
 
 A Portuguese, above six feet in hight; 
 
 And all in strength display 'd enormous might. 
 Unclad the men; the younger women, though 
 
 Less careless, hide their graces from the sight 
 By flaxen aprons, yet contrive to show- 
 Enough of charms, whose like few pale-faced maidens know. 
 
33 
 
 Both sexes use tattoo; dye their teeth black; 
 
 And every man has several lusty wives, 
 Whom he as serfs compels the grain to stack, 
 
 Hew wood, draw water, edge his flinty knives, 
 
 Rear children, cook, and first the honey'd hives 
 Bare-faced attack. Whilst he as master oft 
 
 Loud-roaring to her task the woman drives; 
 I'hus by hard usage she becomes quite soft. 
 And humbled never bears a haughty port aloft. 
 
 The native king was quite an ancient man, 
 
 With power despotic vested in his will; 
 The isle was his; and since his reign began 
 
 He had contrived with very little skill. 
 
 One half of his unhappy race to kill. 
 But he was king; and kings, though common dust. 
 
 Would lower be unless they loved to spill 
 Blood by the hogshead. However, Fate is just, 
 And kingly souls from Heaven may old Saint Peter thrust. 
 
 He had a daughter with great beauty rife — 
 No lovelier damsel e'er was ushered in, 
 (To lead an easy sort of useless life) 
 
 In this round world of wretchedness and sin — 
 Of doubtful virtue and distempered gin. 
 Lithe was her form in dusk}' charms array'd. 
 
 And fit her glance the coldest heart to win. 
 For Love's delicious wiles by Nature made, 
 She reigned the queen of hearts o'er all this sea-girt glade. 
 
 But sealed within her breast there was a pang 
 That told of feverish wishes unsubdued — 
 
 Of sleepless thoughts, whose adder-venomed fang 
 Wounds deepest in the hour of solitude. 
 Nor fails to lance in the convivial mood. 
 
 Soul-piercing dreams that fated mortals speed 
 
 To graves unripe. With such life's road is strewed; 
 
 Our steps along these hopeless ruins lead — 
 Ruins by sad affection ever doomed to bleed. 
 
34 
 
 O Love! what is thy genius, that thou must 
 
 With anguish wring the too-confiding heart? 
 Pursue with terror till he turn to dust 
 
 The hapless wretch destined to feel the dart; 
 
 Vet. yet delay the soul from flesh to part! 
 Thou fatal archer! Tyrant of our race, 
 
 Ordained to smite with never-healing smart, 
 And in our breast a beauteous image place, 
 Wliich if in y<^uiirs ])rin»e fixed no other can eftace. 
 
 Supreme thy i)ower; yet, but a sacred few 
 
 Feel its eflect through long and ling'ring years; 
 Whose souls are tempered in a furnace, true — 
 
 Whose iiearts are pure — whom misery bathes in tears. 
 
 These, these thy ruthless brand delighted sears; 
 Tiiese thy delight to fill with sharp unrest — 
 
 Unrest increasing as the sand careers; 
 Till, last dread refuge of the grief opprest. 
 The gloomy grave extends its cold sequestered breast. 
 
 In vain earth's shallow joys to him atone 
 Who mourns the loss of a congenial love; 
 
 He in relentless pathos stands alone. 
 
 Like some lorn tree, that singled from the grove- 
 Smote by th' electric fury from above. 
 
 Changed by the shock, becomes a ruined spar. 
 All cheerful beauties from its nature drove, 
 
 Sad droops its rifted head, and every scar 
 Pernicious speaks its fate and heralds it afar. 
 
 Enough, enough, forbear so dull a theme, 
 The dark chimera of disordered brains; 
 'Tis sickly kinds that of affection dream; 
 
 Or think its bands com|X)sed of iron chains. 
 Love is but Passion, changing as the vanes 
 That restless wander to the veering winds; 
 
 A moment in one heart perchance remains — 
 Then with frail bonds another victim binds; 
 Tis like true Virtue which no searcher ever finds. 
 
35 
 
 It chanced there was among the crew, a youth 
 Who from Tasmania as a sea-boy came; 
 
 His sire had been a ranger, and in sooth, 
 Upon a scaffold tumbled out in shame, 
 Leaving to prison writs a doubtful fame. 
 
 He was a Maltese — Jack Ispara called — 
 
 And like his honored sire was counted game; 
 
 At least his spirit never could be thralled: 
 He beat the boatswain thrice — and once the skipper mauled. 
 
 Jack had a lion heart; yet he was famed 
 
 For his success in acts of gallantr\'; 
 Acts so profound, Don Juan would have shamed 
 
 Had he e'er lived to hear their strategy, 
 
 Or to behold the youth's pomposity. 
 But let these pass; to j)rudes they might appear 
 
 As spiced with something of coarse ribaldr)' — 
 And we are moral too; Jack — it was queer — 
 Would charm the dullest girl by one good sidelong leer. 
 
 May the good Virgin save all virtuous maids 
 
 From such dread men and from their looks oblique; 
 
 But most from their embrace, which so degrades 
 All that is lo\ely in the sex, so meek — 
 The sex by vulgar error reckoned weak. 
 
 May all the angels — if indeed, there's any — 
 Preserve their lower sisters, when men seek 
 
 To blast their characters, of which there's many. 
 Nor deem a moral man no better than a zanv. 
 
 Jack saw the gentle maid: "Aha!" quoth he, 
 (As on her charms his eye admiring shone), 
 "This buxom maiden is a prize for me; 
 
 No arms but mine so fair a form shall own — 
 My lips her cheek impress and mine alone," 
 He said: then sprang his amorous arts to wield — 
 
 Sighed as he gazed and spoke in piteous tone. 
 When soon the god of hearts this truth reveal'd: 
 That woman close-besieged must to the sieger yield. 
 
36 
 
 Love knit their hearts: he stoopt to Beaiit)''s charms; 
 
 She blooming youth in modest zeal desir'd; 
 Love's magnet lured to warm congenial arms, 
 
 And Hymen's torch voluptuous wishes fired — 
 
 Such the keen joys affection fond inspir'd. 
 Ispara, in the sweet enchantment bound, 
 
 With his beloved into the isle retired, 
 And wandering where no trace could e'er be found. 
 In secret hid. Success their resolution crowned. 
 
 Our commerce ended: to the seas once more 
 
 We give our lives and our storm-beaten bark; 
 While sinks astern Santelmo's azure shore, 
 
 And rolling clouds arise in squadrons dark. 
 
 Winds still are mute; but lo! afar, wc mark 
 A sable cloud upon the purple sky 
 
 Advancing towr'd the vertic. And soon, hark 
 That melancholy sough — th' presaging sigh 
 Of howling winds that rack the starless canopy. 
 
 Adieu ye scenes of sweet arcadian bliss, 
 
 That to our eyes your varied beauties spread; 
 
 How fair the contrast to a scene like this 
 Where jarring temf)ests rouse the watery bed 
 And beat inclement on the wanderer's head. 
 
 Hoarse-sounding from the hyperborean pole 
 The windy gods across the billows tread; 
 
 Jove's thund'ring bolts along the concave roll, 
 And the terrific scene with horror fills the soul. 
 
 And fast before the wild, pursuing waves, 
 
 Like a winged thing the shivering vessel flew; 
 
 Whilst, as with force increased the tempest raves, 
 Green fear glowers on the pale, despairing crew, 
 Who sick at heart their doleful station rue. 
 
 But Fate at length, with milder aspect frowned; 
 Fixed to a point the hoarse tornado blew; 
 
 North- west- by- west we scoured the bleak profound; 
 Three weary weeks elapse and terrors still confound. 
 
37 
 
 Low did she stoop among those boiling seas, 
 Whilst every joint rang out its sad refrain, 
 
 As if with voice endowed, its miseries 
 
 To chant unto the rude, tumultuous main, 
 
 On which full many a heart had toiled in vain, 
 
 As roared the billows in malignant glee; 
 And many a tender heart had mused amain 
 
 When the shrill night-winds, driving o'er the lea 
 Have piped around the home of him who plowed the sea, 
 
 At length the blust'ring winds began to lull — 
 The seas to sleep — the clouds to break away; 
 
 And the awaking sun, emerging full, 
 Gave cheering promise of a calmer day, 
 And roused our spirits with his smiling ray. 
 
 Again the long imprisoned sails are spread, 
 Whilst aiding gales in strains alluring play; 
 
 Nor more the wind-god's hellish wrath we dread; 
 Peace gilds the shining wave; the long, long storm has fled. 
 
 "A sail, a sail!" the watch sonorous cries. 
 
 And at the cry all hands expectant gaze; 
 "A sail, a sail," the master's voice replies. 
 
 As through his glass he sweeps the distant haze, 
 And with attention a dim speck surveys; 
 Soon round the deck the sad announcement goes. 
 
 And every face emotion dark betrays; 
 She is a proa — fellcst of the foes — 
 Who in these lonely seas commercial barks oppose. 
 
 And now she squares the rising gale before, 
 Fresh canvas spreads and for our vessel steers; 
 
 Whilst from each port the long resounding oar 
 Aglow with foam in serried file appears, 
 And cannon loom above in frowning tiers. 
 
 As the swift vulture on its quarry flies, 
 So to her prey the fierce Sumatran veers; 
 
 Till fancy seems to hear th' exultant cries 
 That crown the triumph of her darkling enterprise. 
 
88 
 
 No season this for craven-like delay, 
 
 For fast the corsair draws within the range 
 
 Of her bow guns. At once to bear away 
 
 The orders* given: anew our course we change, 
 And north-west scud for Fijiian waters strange. 
 
 Three hours we fly; when lo. a jet of smoke 
 
 Springs from the proa's head, and poor Will Stange, 
 
 Falls bleeding to the deck; his shoulder broke 
 By a huge splint rent from the counter's solid oak. 
 
 The fearful spectacle our vengeance woke, 
 And swift a-port the carronades we ran; 
 
 Then as the proa cleared her smoky cloak 
 We luffed, and sudden thro' her teeming van 
 A broadside pour'd. And now the fight began 
 
 In real earnest. Shots incessant stream; 
 Small arms resound; and louder o'er the span 
 
 Great cannon roar; anon a piercing scream 
 Foretold some wretch had closed lifes' miserable dream. 
 
 But fate is everything. A plunging shot 
 From out the proa's forward chaser sped; 
 
 It struck the mainmast; from the riven spot 
 A splinter issued; one sailor dead, 
 Another wounded on the deck it spread. 
 
 These to the sick-bay we at once convey 'd, 
 
 Cleard off the wreck, the mainmast's tottering head 
 
 With sturdy tackle in position stay'd, 
 Then to the brunt of war like bold tarpaulins laid. 
 
 Unbent the contest till the veil of night 
 
 In deepest shade the grim combatants hid, 
 Then ceased contention; though the gory fight 
 
 Might yet begin when morning's waking lid, 
 
 Diffusing lustre, should the hostile bid 
 To arms. But as auspicious winds prevailed 
 
 And darkness favored, we resolved to rid 
 Ourselves of the Malay. Away we sailed, 
 And many leagues had crost ere Heaven's beacons paled. 
 
39 
 
 As sunk in light Bootes silvery car, 
 
 And from the vertic fled the Northern Wain, 
 
 We gazed across the heaving deep afar, 
 But saw no proa ply the chase amain 
 All-furious bent the battle to maintain; 
 
 Clear were the seas, far as we questioned, clear; 
 Pleased at the sight our courage we regain; 
 
 And urged tow'rd Fijiian Isles three days career — 
 When lo! what mystic coasts upon our lee appear! 
 
 His chart the master scans, but scans in vain, 
 
 Whilst dark suspicions o'er his senses creep; 
 No isle here marks the hydrographic plane, 
 
 Unsounded billows here unbroken sweep; 
 
 Still as he looked upon the frowning steep, 
 In full relief against the azure thrown, 
 
 With quicker force his throbbing pulses leap, 
 And added lustre in his vision shone; 
 He first had found this land, unto the world unknown! 
 
 He slyly laughed, and when his sextant showed 
 The true location of this nameless isle, 
 
 He almost seemed to feel Fame's crushing load 
 Upon his shoulders press, in such fine style 
 That he ranked far above the common file. 
 
 For he, like humans all, was soft on fame, 
 And to be famous would as lief exile 
 
 The few poor virtues which adorn a name, 
 Or raise man o'er the bnite, by instinct much the same. 
 
 Oh for a voice like some gruft" auctioneer, 
 To curse the mischiefs that proceed from fame; 
 
 Which like another Eve, has settled here 
 To spread awide the scathing blast of shame. 
 And Satan's larders fill with human game. 
 
 Of all the ills in life's portentous list, 
 
 Fame is the worst. She is an artful dame, 
 
 Who pouts her lips but rarely can be kiss'd, 
 And when within our grasp most suddenly is miss'd. 
 
 Of THt 
 Of 
 
40 
 
 She is a jilt — the deuce to every heart, 
 
 A queen with every wicked fancy frauglu; 
 Withal admired, and lured by every art; 
 
 Since few desire to be accounted nought. 
 
 Or die without one battle being fought; 
 For men are fond of rising — like good leaven — 
 
 More bent on leaching than on being taught; 
 
 Still, where one floats, of sinker's there are seven; 
 
 And after all there's doubt if this one gets to Heaven. 
 
 And man's a pompous creature; like a crane, 
 
 Though placed on earth he lifts his head on high, 
 
 And often soars above his low domain, 
 As if his nature was to upward fly 
 And in remoteness dodge the sharpest eye. 
 
 Vain fool! however far he chance to soar, 
 His clumsy shape the dullest sight can spy. 
 
 And though gay plumes his carcass cover o'er, 
 Tis but a man beneath — a paltr)- man — no more. 
 
 "Fame is a rose upon a dead man's breast" — 
 So saith the proverb — but, my lad, belay; 
 This tiresome canting now should surely rest; 
 Preaching is folly when it fails to pay — 
 So quoth the canters of the present day; 
 And taking their advice, our moral strain, 
 Like a coiled halser, shall in storage lay 
 Until the spirit moves us, when again 
 We may resume our theme and sermonize — in vain. 
 
 Ben Nebo stood upon the deck, as Eve, 
 
 Deep-blushing, gleamed across the purple surge; 
 
 And pensive, saw the ruddy glimmer leave 
 
 The western skies, and glowering o'er the verge 
 Slow-paced to Night's engulfing void emerge; 
 
 He heard the billow's sob, the mews' shrill cry, 
 The fitful zephyrs melancholy dirge, 
 
 Till Thought awaking, with a deep-drawn sigh 
 Joined the sad chorus with her plaintive lullaby. 
 
41 
 
 What Cometh from the gloomy realms of death, 
 With graceful step and form of fairest mold? 
 
 Whilst soft as summer winds expiring breath — 
 As bells that tinkle from some distant fold, 
 Or music from some seraph harpist roU'd, 
 
 Her voice melodious steals. Ben Nebo wakes, 
 And shudders at the beauteous phantom cold. 
 
 Whose glance the frozen seal of memor}- breaks. 
 And bids him breathe anew, while Hope expectant quakes. 
 
 "Ye moaning billows chant of Nora, dead — 
 Nora who perished in the bloom of youth! 
 Ye sea-winds wail so fair a spirit fled! 
 Ye mermaids sing the desolating truth! 
 And you ye dolphins hoarsely groan in ruth 
 Of her whose exit all my being wrings — 
 
 Discourse of Nora! Left forlorn, in sooth 
 No joy to me a gleam of pleasure brings, 
 But melting dirges Love in chime funereal rings. 
 
 "Her beauteous form is now insensate dust; 
 Long years of anguish prove her exit true; 
 And I have felt upon my heart the rust, 
 
 The blight, the canker, of a grief which few 
 Have felt tho' lives of sorrow passing through. 
 And since the hour that ga\e her to the tomb. 
 
 This weary pilgrimage I've learned to rue; 
 Yet Fate forbids an issuance from the gloom, 
 Till th' appointed blow completes my ling'ring doom. 
 
 "Fair Nora sleeps! her sweet voice now is mute, 
 No more its cadence can my senses please; 
 Her palsied hand no more awakes the lute, 
 No more her lips in ringing symphonies 
 Of Love — sad Love — resound the elegies. 
 Her woodland pets their darling mistress mourn. 
 
 But Time their grief oblivious shall appease, 
 Whilst I, less favored, wailing still forlorn, 
 Of hapless Nora chant, untimely from me torn. 
 
42 
 
 "For her no more the wreathy crown I tNvine 
 As when we roamed in days to memory dear; 
 For her no more enweave the fragrant vine, 
 Or lure the minnow from the streamlet clear. 
 Still, still of her I sing in strain austere, 
 As fits the dismal tenor of my soul; 
 
 And oft methinks her spirit hovers near; 
 Her elfin dirges with my moanings roll; 
 O beauteous shade awake and with my grief condole! 
 
 "I then might know what I shall never know, 
 
 A gleam of bliss these shadows to dispel. 
 
 And lifting up the weight of crushing woe, 
 
 Make life appear less a terrestrial hell. 
 
 Where Pleasures rarely flit — where Sorrows dwell; 
 
 I then might be what I was in time past — 
 
 A firm believer in the flimsy spell, 
 That man was in a sacred image cast — 
 Which like all things of earth, exf>erience proves 'avast"! 
 
 The loud-voiced boatswain cries, as crawling aft. 
 Some order to a forward tar he gave, 
 
 Who with a gang was taking in the gaft. 
 
 Soon as his tones rang o'er the sounding wave, 
 Ben Nebo's plaints found a remorseless grave; 
 
 As up he sprang, shook ofl[' his dreams, and stood 
 Like one resolved such evil wraiths to brave, 
 
 Or crush at once the ghastly-natured brood. 
 That with relentless scowl accurst his solitude. 
 
 Shrill blew the winds and fast our keel impell'd 
 
 Into a placid and majestic bay; 
 Green woods upon the heights adjacent swell'd, 
 
 Where cawing birds in various plumage gay 
 
 Reshot the lustre of th' meridian ray. 
 Far as the eye could range, new prospects rose; 
 
 Hills roll on hills and mountains Heav'n survey; 
 Soft on the strand the deep meand'ring flows, 
 And Nature's added charms a perfect scene compose. 
 
43 
 
 And here no sign of human Hfe was seen; 
 
 No rural hamlet peeped between the wood, 
 No lonely hut appear'd upon the green, 
 
 No vocal murmurs from the savage brood. 
 
 Broke the dead silence of the solitude. 
 Far as the vision swept — 'twas barren all 
 
 A place where Nature reign'd unrivall'd rude. 
 Where Beauty made her gorgeous capital, 
 And the curs'd foot of man was never heard to fall. 
 
 The sea, the sea! once more we plow the sea, 
 Loud pipe the winds that curl the onward wave; 
 
 The sea, the sea! its billows fierce and free 
 Are terrors to the dull lu.xurious slave, 
 Whose heart revolts when roaring breezes rave. 
 
 The sea, the sea! we love its rushing foam — 
 And whistling gales and flowing canvas crave; 
 
 Let timid landsmen vaunt their anchor'd home — 
 Be ours the better fate — the boundless seas to roam. 
 
 Such the glad thoughts that every bosom held 
 As o'er the yesty surge we gaily sail'd; 
 
 Yet oft Ben Ncbo's feverish soul rebell'd — 
 Oft his long exile from his land he wail'd — 
 Oft in deep grief relentless Fate assail'd. 
 
 And thus one night, as thrO' the etherial blue, 
 The glistering signs his awe-struck sight regal'd, 
 
 With restless step he paced the watches through, 
 And pensive dreamed as they on noiseless pinions flew. 
 
 And thus he mused: "Twas in the waning year 
 When sereing leaves presaged their coming doom; 
 
 When wintry blasts deep-sounding blew severe 
 And crushed the flow'ret in its tardy bloom, 
 That much-lov'd Nora sank into the tomb. 
 
 I still can see that pale, angelic brow — 
 That lovely face a paler hue assume; 
 
 Death's rugged coulter those sweet features plow — 
 That dark eye dim — all — all appear before me now. 
 
44 
 
 "And thou art dead! say, shall I e'er again 
 Behold thee as thou wert in hours before 
 The icy hand of Death had on thee lain? 
 
 I know not. Who can pierce the jealous door 
 That 'gainst us shuts the Future's mystic store? 
 I know not — yet illusive wish would gild 
 The vision, and upon my senses pour 
 A train of thought with this dear fancy fill'd; 
 But grisled doubt succeeds and frozen hope lies still'd. 
 
 "And I have loved!" Aloud the steersman here 
 Broke in upon the muser's reverie: — 
 Quoth he: "What light is that so red, yet clear, 
 Whose lustre radiates the western sea, 
 And tints the stooping vapors luridly?" 
 Ben Nebo gazed across the sullen gloom 
 
 To where a flickering glare ujKjn the lee 
 Bespoke some ship a-fire. A hollow boom 
 Remurmuring o'er the deep, confirmed the fancied doom. 
 
 "A ship on fire!" the up-roused seamen cry, 
 As curious to the leeward rail they run; 
 Anon to indicate assistance nigh — 
 
 So wills the chief — discharge a signal gun; 
 And scarce the simple task is fully done, 
 Ere from the light there comes another roar; 
 
 A minute gun — we fire a second one 
 In hoarse reply. But as we heard no more, 
 Braced on the wind and tow'rd the hapless vessel bore. 
 
 It was a grand — a truly solemn sight — 
 The burning of that ship upon the main; 
 
 Afar there shone a glare of ruddy light, 
 As if Avernus bursting through its chain 
 Had spill'd its horrors on the watery plain; 
 
 But as we gazed the rueful scene upon, 
 A train of meteors lit the skies amain; 
 
 Flames, sparks, and smoke, commingled hurtling on, 
 Shook the dank void and glared a new Phelegethon. 
 
45 
 
 And then a sound like the last trumpet, loud, 
 Hoarse and terrific, roared along the waste; 
 
 And high above a black revolving cloud 
 Through the abyss its nitrous volume trac'd 
 Like some gigantic pall in ether placed, 
 
 Then as the fiery ruins downward fell, 
 Diffusive, in effulgent armor cased; 
 
 The roar disparting died across the swell. 
 And silence over all resumed her torpid spell. 
 
 'Twas done! the wreck in countless atoms torn, 
 
 Evanished from our deeply-wondering gaze; 
 So the ill-fated wretch by woes o'er borne, 
 Ends at a stroke his sorrow-laden days, 
 And in one last o'crwhelming ruin lays. 
 Such is the stern, unswerving law of Fate — 
 
 The smallest principle that law obeys; 
 Man least of all that edict can rebate, 
 It guides the very will that seeks oblivion's state. 
 
 Oblivion! what a mystic word is thine! 
 
 Thou opiate of all sublunary things; 
 Thy wraith in Death's twin-sister we divine 
 
 Congenial balm of spirit-wounding stings. 
 
 Whose poppy draught narcotic languor brings. 
 Grateful we sip; but ah! we wake again, 
 
 And shackless Thought like a hyena springs 
 Intent to rend. He clanks his riven chain; 
 Sharp-cutting, wounds our peace and riots in our pain. 
 
 Let such as in Voltarian dreams delight, 
 Draw solace from their cold philosophy; 
 
 Believe that Death is but enduring night, 
 
 That soul dissolves when sense hath ceas'd to be- 
 That life is but magnetic energ)'. 
 
 Let such believe — believe thus if they can; 
 He must renounce such callow sophistry 
 
 Who taught the inmost shades of thought to scan. 
 Hath felt that subtle fire which shone ere earth began. 
 
46 
 
 Can genius die? Go ask the glorious shades 
 
 Of the Immortals, who on Nature's page 
 Graved in a character that never fades 
 
 Their mighty glories to remotest age. 
 
 Can Manfred die — or th' Avonian sage 
 In stony crypt forever sleep unknown? 
 
 How vain to ask. 'Gainst these the cycles wage 
 Unequal war. Like gods they stand alone — 
 Like gods they make a sure eternity their own. 
 
 What matter if the outer husk decay, 
 
 If the inherent germ existeth still; 
 Or, if the spirit of the germ shall stay 
 
 Forever quickened and forever thrill 
 
 Innumerous spirits to its sovereign will. 
 Such the grand fate of earth's illustrious men, 
 
 Whose god-like souls distill'd such thoughts as fill 
 The eternal years, and with a molten pen 
 Imprest congenial minds until they glowed again. 
 
 What mote appeareth on the distant tide 
 As Dawn emerges from her rosy bed? 
 What mote that draws the lookout's glance aside, 
 As perched upon the foremast's dizzy head, 
 He quests to ken what ocean may bestead? 
 "A boat! a boat'/' he hails the watch on deck; 
 Soon thro' the ship the news is trumpeted. 
 And the long glass is levell'd on the speck: 
 It is, it is a boat — a relic of the wreck! 
 
 Long was the tug across th' opposing seas, 
 And slow that boat u|X)n the vessel drew; 
 
 At length an end to all uncertainties 
 
 Appear'd as Solus wheeled the vertic through, 
 When to our deck we hauled the wearied crew; 
 
 And when refreshing cheer their wants supplied, 
 They told their story — one that all might rue — 
 
 How took the ship a-fire — and how they tried 
 To still the angry flames, whose rage their power defied. 
 
47 
 
 She was a Lusian ship from Lima, bound 
 For Lisbon, with a load of silver ore; 
 
 When three days out a fierce tornado frown'd, 
 And forced to scud at its wild mercy, bore 
 South-west by-south for Pitcairn's lonely shore. 
 
 Amid the tempest — in alarm they hear 
 
 The ship's on fire! At once the hold explore, 
 
 Where fangs of flame in hideous wrath appear — 
 And aftward trend, seen first within the cable tier. 
 
 In vain they toiled to quench the raging fires. 
 
 That swept devouring through the crumbling shell; 
 The flames increase; soon wearied strength expires, 
 
 And Fate on every billow seems to swell. 
 
 Then mad for life unto the guns they fell, 
 And rolled afar their hoarse funereal notes, 
 
 Such as in minute guns alone may dwell; 
 Nor long these spoke. Replied our brazen throats; 
 Told of assistance near — and urged to launch their boats. 
 
 But as the billows ran extremely high, 
 
 One boat was in the act of launching staved, 
 
 And eighteen souls with one united cry 
 
 Sank in the flood; but three its fury braved. 
 And nearly drown'd were by the pinnace saved. 
 
 Just then her people heard our cannon sound. 
 And stood away for succor; but so raved 
 
 The waters, that high noon was blazing round, 
 Ere on the trader's deck, a resting place they found. 
 
 And one there was among that fated train. 
 
 Whom Memor}' oft in hue primeval shows, 
 When dreaming o'er those faded scenes, again 
 
 Some picture in vivific beauty glows; 
 
 Celestial thou destined to many woes, 
 Torn from thy love — an exile on the deep; 
 
 Till kindly Fate resolved thy toils to close; 
 And where Papuan seas cerulean creep, 
 On couch of coral laid thy beauteous shell may sleep. 
 
48 
 
 Yet why recall a melancholy theme 
 
 Long since in dumb negation cast away? 
 'Tis futile o'er departed scenes to dream, 
 
 Or the sad past in pensive grief survey. 
 
 The present is not one unclouded day — 
 But actual sorrows claim our constant care, 
 
 And various terrors line our devious way; 
 Ideal anguish fades — dissolves to air, 
 Beside the darker shapes that haunt us everywhere. 
 
 Most sullen of the jxmgs that sully life — 
 Grief gloomy hydra lurks in every heart; 
 
 Ceaseless until the soul-dissevering knife 
 
 Gives its last keen — its last destructive smart — 
 And bids the spirit from its temple start. 
 
 Man here was made to mourn — 'tis Fate's decree — 
 And he who .suffers most can best depart, 
 
 Can best resign these scenes of miser)-, 
 Can best take the dread leap into eternity. 
 
 Yet life's a farce, though haply some may cry: 
 
 Life is no farce — it is a tragedy. 
 Where each wan actor as he passeth by 
 Howls out a lengthen'd note of misery, 
 And shivering dreads his frail mortality. 
 A farce hath merriment — in life there's none; 
 
 'Tis one long woe — devoid of pleasantry — 
 From man's first wail until his task be done 
 'Tis one continual strife; best closed when first begun. 
 
 Still, life's a farce. Allow that there is ill 
 In many things that to this state befall; 
 
 Yet if gauged at their real worth, we will 
 Discover that the hugest of them all 
 Into the merest dwarfs of trouble fall. 
 
 Deaths, disappointments, pangs and penalties, 
 Are ills indeed — but ills so very small 
 
 That it is strange they should disturb the ease 
 Of reasoning beings versed in stem philosophies. 
 
4d 
 
 To thoughtful men existence is a farce— 
 
 A play composed of hollow vagaries 
 In which the players all one censor pass, 
 
 And fly like chaff before the wintry breeze 
 
 Into Eternity's unfathomed seas. 
 All is unreal, heartless, and unsound — 
 
 Virtue and man unyielding enemies; 
 The greatest ass is oft with honors crown'd, 
 And plaudits greet the knave whose limbs no fetters bound. 
 
 Canto III 
 
 The toils of seamen, rulers of the waves, 
 Twice and again we celebrate in song; 
 
 Ye manly hearts! who, when hoarse Neptune raves 
 And Boreas howls, excursive scud along, 
 Proud of the blast — as merciful as strong! 
 
 Sons of the surge! where'er the whirli)ools hiss — 
 In storm-defying ships — a fearless throng 
 
 On danger's edge you ride! What courage this? 
 What voice can sing your deeds, ye rovers of th' abyss? 
 
 But lo! emergent from the gleaming deep — 
 Serenely fair, in hues prismatic drest — 
 
 Tahitian shores along the starboard creep. 
 Long-wished for haven of auspicious rest — 
 A glistening gem on ocean's azure breast 
 
 Art thou, sweet isle. Hope skims the rolling tide 
 With joyful wing to seek thy woody nest, 
 
 And taste those joys already dim descried — 
 Utopian joys, where every sense is gratified. 
 
50 
 
 But soon, alas! these dreams illusive flee, 
 
 And terror draj^es th' extended prospect round; 
 For now alarming signs that storms decree 
 
 Our anxious eyes with woeful glare astound; 
 
 Three mighty zones the sickly moon surround, 
 O'er the North Star a blackening haze appears. 
 
 While oft across the heaven's dark profound, 
 A lurid spark in rapid fligiit careers; 
 Anon indignant Jove hurls his electric spears. 
 
 Swift, too, the silver in the glassy spire 
 
 Shrinks with the pressure of th' x-rial weight; 
 
 Mysterious agent! fraught with seer-like fire 
 Ether's incessant change to ante-date, 
 And half the seaman's doubtful dread abate. 
 
 Still lower shrunk the boding mercury, 
 Breaking the si)cll of leisure enervate; 
 
 All hands are rous'd — all now alert must be, 
 For hark, the blust'ring winds now curl the jarring sea! 
 
 North-east-by-east the blasts converging blew, 
 And fast the brig before their fury sped; 
 
 Till dark above the murky verge, anew 
 A mighty cliff uplifts its beetling head, 
 And o'er the crew presaging terrors shed; 
 
 For futile now to clear the threat'ning edge, 
 By naked masts whence every sail has lied; 
 
 Yet none despair; we may not round the ledge. 
 But on the beach escape the sea's engulfing dredge. 
 
 In this distress, while horror froze our blood, 
 
 Instant elapsed all thought of danger past; 
 For to each eye, above the angr)' flood. 
 
 Of every peril we beheld the last. 
 
 Already Fancy sees us shipwreck'd, cast 
 Tom, dumb, and bleeding from the raging waves; 
 
 Or seaward urged, in hopeless fear aghast 
 Sank in the stifling surge to nameless graves, 
 Where the voracious newt his hideous banquet craves. 
 
51 
 
 Stars of the storm! twin brothers placed on high, 
 Who erst were saviors of storm-beaten crews, 
 
 Say, now, where is thy aid? Loud, loud we cry. 
 Bright pair! thy sea-comf)Osing bands to loose, 
 Nor more resistless winds awide dift'use. 
 
 In vain, in vain — as merciless and bleak 
 As the hail-volley cold — ye glint obtuse. 
 
 Whilst coastward drives the wreck; soon its huge beak 
 Grates on the snapping rock, and wild the drowning shriek. 
 
 The waves where'er they list, the ruins urge 
 Fierce-crashing as they smite the flinty coast; 
 
 Amid them, drove before the howling surge, 
 Ben Ncbo shoreward hastes. Of all the host 
 He and the mate but scaped th' infernal ghost, 
 
 And shivering issued from the yawning seas; 
 
 The rest were lost; they and their floating boast 
 
 Found a release from all calamities, 
 And as a holocaust did Neptune's wrath appease. 
 
 Prone on the beach the dumb survivors lay, 
 Left as they fell by the retreating wave. 
 
 Till life relit its frail and fluttering ray 
 
 just glimmering on the margin of the grave, 
 And to their shells again the spirit gave. 
 
 Then Nebo rose; then next the hardy mate 
 Crept from the sea; and in a winding cave 
 
 That scoop'd the toppling cliff", they weary sate. 
 And sullenly bewailed their sorrow-darken'd state. 
 
 And there throughout the lingering night, they held 
 
 Their fearful vigils in that dismal cell; 
 Whilst ceaselessly without, the breakers swell'd, 
 
 And in sonorous murmurs seemed to knell 
 
 A funeral chant above the dead, who fell 
 Untimely coffined in the bleak abyss; 
 
 Anon attentive Fancy in each swell 
 Caught whispers sad — the requiems of bliss — 
 Foretelling coming ills dark as the shade of Dis. 
 
 Of 
 
 ) 
 
52 
 
 But Morn's effulgent light their gloom dispels, 
 And wins them from their desolate abode; 
 
 Away they haste — explore tiie bosky dells, 
 And tread the glebes with artocarpus strowed, 
 Or wind the sloj>es where brawling streamlets flowed. 
 
 All pleasure yield; prolific Nature here 
 
 Uncquall'd gifts dispensed, and radiant showed 
 
 Her loveliest phases through the changeless year; 
 Adoring bent our men, and soothed their grief austere. 
 
 Fatigued at length, within a cool retreat 
 They shelter seek from the meridian blaze; 
 
 A mango-wood re|)els the flaming heat, 
 
 And to each breath in rustling tremor plays. 
 Whilst beauteous pros|)ecls ojkju to their gaze. 
 
 Here vernal glades in serried vistas lie; 
 There jxilm-trees nod; here tamarinds fleck the maze; 
 
 There monkeys mewl; here gaudy parrots cry; 
 There solemn woods api>al; here meadows charm the eye. 
 
 While thus our heroes lay upon the ground, 
 
 Musing on what their wand'ring .sight could find, 
 
 They marked a cliain of hills the vision bound, 
 And rise against the western sky, defined 
 With striking clearness. Thence their gaze assigned, 
 
 When lo! reared on an isolated cone 
 A warlike ruin stands, and to each mind 
 
 Recalls those strongholds which by age o'erthrown. 
 Still on Europa's lands like broken gems are strown. 
 
 And much they pondered on that ruin eld. 
 
 And marveled by whose hands its walls were made; 
 
 Yet as they looked, Ben Nebo dazed, beheld 
 The mate's stern features wear a darker shade. 
 And ner\'ous throes his stalwart form invade. 
 
 But these soon pass'd; the ruling wish prevailed; 
 Both men no longer on the green-sward laid, 
 
 But rose; and by no vagueful terrors quailed, 
 They gained the hillock's brow and thence the fortress scaled. 
 
53 
 
 They knocked: unanswered were their sounding blows 
 Save by the echoes from the neighboring!^ hights, 
 
 Or shriller cries of parrots, that uprose 
 
 From a thick copse. Again our hardy wights 
 Their summons beat; no sound; but wilder flights 
 
 Of the twice-startled birds. They knock no more; 
 Ben Nebo's eye upon a pass alights; 
 
 An olive's stem from its foundation tore, 
 Serves at a stroke to burst the age-decaying door. 
 
 It fell: they stood within a spacious hall, 
 
 With arms of every structure girt around; 
 Quaint armor rusted on the crumbling wall, 
 
 Or clasped in moss decayed ui)on the ground; 
 
 All they beheld in ruin lay imbound. 
 Here the last relics of a daring crew 
 
 In this lone cell a sepulchcr had found, 
 Whilst those who erst their hardy usage knew, 
 Beneath the gelid wave might ocean's floor bestrew. 
 
 Now twilight on the varied landscape fell, 
 
 And glimmer'd through the oriel of the tower. 
 
 Rousing the owlet from his mortised cell. 
 
 And the dim bat from slce[)'s occlusive power, 
 On prey intent to course the nightly hour. 
 
 And then Ben Nebo marked a darker change 
 
 Come o'er the mate: his brows despondent lower. 
 
 And aspen-like he shook; convulsion strange 
 In one who lustily bestrode th' uneven range. 
 
 Ben Nebo gazed upon the man askance, 
 
 And pondered on the grief his face betrayed; 
 Then gently asked its cause — a frenzied glance 
 Shot from the mate's dark eye; he seem'd afraid. 
 But curbed his fear and then to speak essayed: 
 "Last eve," quoth he, "as wandering by the shore 
 I pensive walked, there rose a hideous shade 
 From out the deep; and like a mist before 
 My awe-struck vision pass'd; then lost 'twas seen no more. 
 
54 
 
 "Aghast I stood, liut oft in years agone 
 
 Had I unblanched belield tliis goblin rise; 
 But now its grisled terrors smile upon 
 My spirit with a frenzy, that defies 
 Mere human strength. E'en now his awful size 
 Hefore me looms. Avaunt! Hut this despite, 
 
 Let me reliearse a tale that sleepless lies 
 In memory's urn. With gory ills bedight, 
 Long hath it groaned within Seclusion's sliadowy night. 
 
 "This tower was once a famous pirate-haunt; 
 From here Ulas Matsi issued for the main, 
 With his prize-loving lads, his flag to vaunt, 
 To chase, to pillage, and by arms obtain 
 From booly-laden ships the shining gain. 
 For years the tyrant of the Hood confest, 
 
 No hostile cruisers could his course restrain; 
 Fearless he roved where'er he cared to quest — 
 A gallant chief was he — pride of each corsair breast. 
 
 "Those were brave days: among his lusty crew 
 I then a youth was a fore-top-man found; 
 And divers brisk affairs passed boldly through 
 Had made my name above the rest renown'd, 
 Whilst added wealth my rising prospects crown'd. 
 But yet no dreams of mere ]>rcferment rose 
 
 With sordid ])ang my early bloom to wound; 
 I fought from instinct — loved hardhanded blows — 
 And felt upon the wave the equal of all foes. 
 
 "But Fate is stern: once off Gilolo's shore, 
 In a smooth sea and with a sinking wind, 
 A Briush cruiser down upon us bore, 
 
 And her broadside upon our quarter lined. 
 Our men to their appointed posts assigned 
 Stood to their arms, all resolute, prepared 
 
 To rake the Briton, till her lads should find 
 That rogues could do what rogues had ever dared, 
 And when their blood was up for man nor devil cared. 
 
55 
 
 "The battle opened; and a cannon shot 
 
 Dread-whistHng bold Bias Matsi overthrew; 
 And prone he gasped upon the fatal spot 
 Where he had often taught the foe to rue 
 They e'er assailed him and liis daring crew; 
 But ah! his loss we vainly could repair; 
 
 In nautic skill — in gunnery — but few 
 His equals were; in danger first to dare; 
 He well could guide the bark and guard the secret lair. 
 
 "He fell; two rivals for his post arose: 
 
 Dave Vangs, a son of nide Northumbria's shore, 
 Whose cutlass foremost gleam 'd in batde's close, 
 Unwilling sheathed till hope of blood was o'er; 
 Next to the chief a second rank he bore; 
 Yet as command the general voice conferr'd, 
 
 So none by right of station ever wore 
 The chieftain's plume. To Vangs the most dcmurr'd- 
 A flinty hearted man who mercy deemed absurd. 
 
 "His rival was myself. I simply placed 
 
 My cause in deeds and not in vainful boasts; 
 I, too, as oft the jaws of danger faced, 
 
 And burthened Stygia with untimely ghosts, 
 When foemen Irespass'd on our guarded coasts. 
 Our claims acknowledged, lots by all were drawn, 
 And soon the issue rcach'd th' assembled hosts; 
 Vangs, who ambition lured, had learned to fawn. 
 And gained by specious arts the men he held in scorn. 
 
 "He won; but still the action was opposed, 
 And discontent prevailed among the crew, 
 While those who hated him, together closed. 
 And swore that ere the waning moon was new 
 He should his transitory honor rue. 
 I counselled j)eace, and sought by ever)' wile 
 
 To quench the murmurs that portentous grew; 
 But all in vain, for as we made the isle 
 We rose in arms and wrought in true seafaring style. 
 
56 
 
 "I can recall the deed, though years in flight 
 Have borne it to tlie cloudy past away; 
 Still now it rises in rekindled light 
 As plain as if it hapjjed but yesterday. 
 For there are things that never can decay, 
 Though deep we hide them in negation's mine; 
 And when we deem they are unspeaking clay. 
 They wake and fright us with a voice malign. 
 And in their sinewy coils the stoutest heart entwine. 
 
 "As sunk the Pleiads in the leaden brine, 
 And winds blew light from Oyolava's land, 
 The signal rang; and bent on ill design 
 In grim array appeared th' rebellious band. 
 To strife they fell; dealt with such lusty hand 
 That at their mercy soon the vessel laid; 
 
 But still unconquered Vangs applied his brand. 
 And on their ranks a dread impression made; 
 The bravest at his rage uncertain stood dismay'd. 
 
 "At once the jarring rovers to compose, 
 And bring the Briton to an early peace, 
 I headlong pushed among the clenching foes, 
 And shouting, bade the work of carnage cease. 
 The combat lulled; and as by slow degrees 
 Order returned, I challeng'd Vangs to try 
 
 A single combat. Flash'd like fire his krees. 
 And dark his scowl and fierce his angry eye; 
 Ere long we closed in wrath — to conquer or to die. 
 
 "With cruel force my foeman plied his brand, 
 His blood was hot in ire; the fiery glow 
 Of his wild eyes gleam 'd wilder, as his hand 
 That oft had caused the gory streams to flow 
 Aimed to inflict a last — a fatal blow. 
 In vain I sought to beat his .strokes aside, 
 
 My arm was powerless 'gainst so dread a foe, 
 And when at length a des[)erate lunge I tried, 
 I caught his point and fell, bathed in a crimson tide. 
 
57 
 
 "My wound was sharp. All feeling fled before 
 The shock that paralyzed the vital stream; 
 And senseless to my berth the seamen bore 
 
 My blood-grim'd form. There with uncertain gleam 
 Life's taper burned. At length the doubtful dream 
 Passed o'er, and by degrees my strength renew 'd. 
 
 But fast in durance pent, no sunny beam 
 With genial warmth — Nature's inspiring food — 
 My energies awoke, by mingled ills subdued. 
 
 "Thus I remain'd, whilst on our course we stood— 
 Bound homeward to our long-forsaken isle — 
 When one dark night, as in a dreary mood 
 I sought in sleep my anguish to beguile, 
 I heard o'er-head, shouts, maledictions vile, 
 And Vangs' deep voice o'er all arising higher; 
 
 Intent I heard; and in a little while 
 The awful truth flashed on my senses dire; 
 Grim fear upon me seized — the vessel was on fire! 
 
 "In frantic rage my prison bars I beat, 
 
 For now the boats were filling with the crew; 
 Each moment too, increased the scorching heat, 
 As more abaft the flames devouring flew; 
 And then I gazed my cabin window through, 
 And felt augmented horror o'er me creep. 
 
 As swift the boats receded from my view 
 
 Across the smooth and molten-bosomed deep; 
 
 Anon for help implored or hopeless sank to weep. 
 
 "But sudden on my ear there fell a sound 
 Of oars, and gazing o'er the lurid tide, 
 Amid the pitchy smoke that drifted round, 
 A boat with one lone oarsman I descried; 
 Hope flashed anew. My voice for aid I plied; 
 He heard — he paused — then swiftly row'd away. 
 
 I thought him gone; but soon the door awide 
 Was thrown, and ere I could delight betray, 
 Dave Vangs himself appeared my terror to allay. 
 
58 
 
 "Forth through the suffocating heat he led 
 
 Me to the pinnace, and when set within, 
 
 With nen'ous strokes across the deep we sped; 
 
 For ever and anon — with sounding din — 
 
 Shot from the heated guns began to spin 
 
 Above our heads. Beyond this cannonade 
 
 We paused to ^^'atch the fiery demon win 
 Its rapid way. Ere long the flames invade 
 The powder store; and lo! in ruin all is laid! 
 
 "We suffered much; but as the wind was fair, 
 Held the light skiff before the veering foam. 
 Three days elapse; when, through the ambient air. 
 Like a blue vapor, loom'd our islet-home; 
 And just as Twilight's glimmer 'gan to gloam, 
 Shot o'er the bar and moored upon the strand. 
 Thankful for life — resolved no more to roam 
 From the safe-circuit of the genial land; 
 Thus musing hied away and pleased each object scann'd. 
 
 "With weary feet we sought this lonely tower, 
 Where fixed remained a section of our band 
 To guard the spoil, lest in an evil hour 
 Invasive keels should pass the circling sand, 
 And fell possession of the isle demand. 
 To these lorn comrades we rehearsed our tale — 
 So sad but few its influence could withstand — 
 And mingled with the dull vibrating gale 
 Was manhood's broken groan and woman's plaintive wail, 
 
 "But who with heart a-breaking, most bewailed 
 The missing brave, who most in pity sighed. 
 Like thee, Timandra! Thou whose glance assailed 
 My inmost soul, that conscious vainly tried 
 To turn the woe-presaging shaft aside. 
 Thou fair Timandra, how I worshipped thee! 
 
 How for thee suffered, since my hand was dyed 
 With that red stain which blots whate'er I see, 
 And conjures goblins foul that rack me hideously! 
 
59 
 
 "Ah, well I loved thee! For thee I yearned 
 With an intensity, hot as the rays 
 Of Barca's sun! Ay, loved when passion spumed, 
 Merged into one fierce bolt — one hellish blaze 
 That still within my scorching bosom plays! 
 But why arouse the dead? Why from their tomb 
 
 The spectres of a grisled past upraise ? 
 What though Vangs won thee? In nocturnal gloom 
 Deep in yon stagnant pool he met a murderous doom ! 
 
 "I slew him; and his gurgling sobs, as crept 
 The whelming eddies o'er his gelid mold, 
 Into my ears like stygian peans leapt. 
 
 Fierce was my joy; and short as fierce, there roll'd 
 Amid those strains a subtler note that told 
 Of peace departed. From that hour I bore 
 
 The mark of Cain, that where, or sea or wold 
 I chanced a fugitive to wander o'er, 
 Confest my crime — that crime that steept my soul in gore. 
 
 "It matters not to tell how I escaped 
 
 From this curst isle — the region of that crime; 
 Or how through weary years my course I shaped, 
 Until besprinkled with the frosts of time, 
 A hopeless man, I sought this lonely clime. 
 'Twas tenantless. Amazed I groped around. 
 
 And near yon palms that to the sea-winds chime, 
 I, choked with grief, espied a grassy mound 
 Marked by a wooden cross with clustering blossoms crowned. 
 
 "Timandra's grave! Amid the clasping turf 
 
 She sleeps in trance unbroken — sleeps though shrill 
 The keen winds whistle — and the rumbling surf 
 Sonorous thunders; or from yonder hill 
 The cowering birds with cries the concave fill. 
 She sleeps! With her my fondest hopes are laid, 
 
 With her shall they remain, entombed, until 
 Th' imperious voice of Fate shall bid my shade 
 Launch from its ashy coil and ghostly realms invade!" 
 
60 
 
 The pirate ceased: as closed his story grim, 
 
 Aurora smiled above the eastern hills; 
 The woods resound, and through the azure dim 
 
 In golden eddies foam the moaning rills. 
 
 Nature awakes; her pulse the landscape thrills. 
 And all with life inspires. Our men uprose 
 
 And hasty sought their cheer. Hen Nebo wills 
 The forest to explore — thenceward he goes; 
 His comrade into life the arid tinder blows. 
 
 Anon when rural fare their hunger fed, 
 
 The circumjacent lands around they rove, 
 And jocund view spontaneous bounties spread 
 
 O'er mountain, glen, and solemn-looking grove. 
 
 Long thus they rambled, till a thicket wove 
 With heat-excluding woof, to rest invites. 
 
 Here stretch'd at length, across a glassy cove. 
 They saw astounded, from the neighboring heights, 
 Titanic moas wing their long, laborious flights. 
 
 While thus in idlesse prone the seamen lay, 
 Watchful of what their vision pass'd before, 
 
 Ben Nebo's thoughts were wand 'ring far away. 
 And often sought his long forsaken shore — 
 That shore which he might never visit more. 
 
 And musing thus his thoughts began to lower, 
 Congenial to the winds, that whisp'ring o'er 
 
 The distant seas, sighed thro' the nemorous bower, 
 And filled with pensive dreams the spirit-soothing hour. 
 
 Then Nora's charms in added freshness rose, 
 And woke to voice the love-inspiring song; 
 
 From his distilling lips the measure flows 
 In nervous verse — in mellow tide along, 
 As thousand beauteous scenes his fancy throng. 
 
 Of love he sang, whence sprang its mystic birth, 
 Its mystic chain that binds the weak and strong, 
 
 Or bends to anguish or exalts to mirth, 
 All that as mortals press the air-suspended earth. 
 
61 
 
 As the sweet image rose before his mind — 
 
 Thought he, no other with such charms could vie: 
 For Love is selfish, arrogant and blind. 
 
 And prone to cheat the most experienced eye; 
 
 Besides, by nature being rather sly 
 He rollicks in a good, clean-cutting jest. 
 
 Nor cares how deep love-smitten creatures sigh; 
 How swains go mad; how feverish maidens rest; 
 Or how the grandam coos with spasms in her breast. 
 
 Ere yet the crescent reached the middle dome, 
 Both heroes trod the steep-ascending road, 
 
 Rejoiced to gain their rude, but friendly home. 
 And cast aside their heart-oppressive load 
 In slumber's torpid spell. I3ut dreams forebode 
 
 The wished enchantment; troubled they repose; 
 Within each sleeper thoughts tumultuous rode — 
 
 In slumber-breaking hosts — presaging woes 
 Portentous which no mere word-painting can disclose. 
 
 Ben Nebo vainly sought to fall asleep; 
 
 Keen were his senses — feverish they wrought 
 In tempest visions such as darkling sweep 
 
 Through some Byronic soul by Angels taught 
 
 To sing the terrors of Immortal thought. 
 He tost, he murmur'd, as ^long they cours'd, 
 
 Till all the darkness scem'd with spectres fraught; 
 Then, horrified, from his deep silence forc'd, 
 He hailed his comrade: long the two sad men discours'd. 
 
 And thus the mate: "'Perchance these dreams are sent 
 
 As subtle warnings of some peril laid 
 By foes unknown, yet primed with fell intent 
 
 Our lives to end. But by this mystic aid 
 
 We may the dangers of the hour evade," 
 He said. The twain uprose; throughout that night 
 
 With nervous steps bestrode the dewy glade; 
 When in alarm Ben Nebo saw a light 
 Fixed on the barren shore below the turret's hight. 
 
62 
 
 He then his comrade hailed; both men alarmed 
 
 Gazed on the light, which, as the air was clear. 
 Proved a huge tire, by wild-men lit, who swarmed 
 
 Around the whirling blaze in rude career. 
 
 Till dawn our sailors watched in livid fear 
 The blacks carouse; when in periguas stowed 
 
 They stood away. Once from the island sheer, 
 Our seamen to the smould'ring embers strode, 
 And there beheld a sight that man's foul nature showed. 
 
 There, cast about the ashes, did appear 
 
 Fragments of human flesh; dark clots of gore 
 
 And bones black -si ngcil, grim relics of the cheer 
 Which had sufliccd the cannibals, when o'er 
 The >*-aters roaming, on this lonesome shore 
 
 They landed to partake their hideous fare. 
 Sick at the sight our heroes homeward bore, 
 
 Musing on what they saw; and loth to spare 
 The next swart troop that should invade their lonely lair. 
 
 But scarce they left the foul-ensanguin'd scene, 
 \\'hen Nebo roused a black, who fast asleep 
 
 Had laid a copse of sago-trees between. 
 Woke by th' intrusion, with a sudden leap 
 He rose, and fled so swiftly, as to keep 
 
 Our seamen far l)ehind, though hot to slay 
 The flying wretch. At length a rocky steep 
 
 Enveiled him from pursuit. There hid he lay 
 Till the blue waters drank the fading hues of day; 
 
 Then cat-like out he came. In quest of prey 
 He sought the offals of the ghastful feast; 
 
 But by our heroes seen, they dogged his way 
 As hunters dog some dread, ferocious beast, 
 Nor till the spot was reached this duty ceased. 
 
 But as from out the wood they boldly prest 
 The savage turned — his inky visage creased — 
 
 And ere a death shot could the deed arrest, 
 Th' illfated mate received a javelin in his breast. 
 
63 
 
 As sinks the shotted corse beneath the wave, 
 So sank the mate at that death-deaHng blow; 
 
 Yet ere his spirit to the winds he gave, 
 Ben Nebo's musket laid the slayer low — 
 Yet poorly recompensed his poignant woe. 
 
 Then on the mate's remains he sadly gazed, 
 And mused on things but the afflicted know — 
 
 Things that grim-shapen nigh his reason crazed, 
 Which doleful Horror from his devilish gulfs upraised. 
 
 All things must perish. Once their work is done, 
 
 All in negation must dissolve away; 
 The noble oak when its last sand has run 
 
 Shall only later than frail man decay; 
 
 But later still the Pyramids shall lay 
 In atoms prone, and Earth, still later rent, 
 
 Shall like these all Destruction's law obey. 
 All, all must perish, such their chief intent, 
 From chaos first they came in chaos to be blent. 
 
 Ay, all must perish: nought of earth can stand 
 
 The ever-gnawing tooth of deathful Time 
 That eats into all things. Man's temples grand; 
 
 His proudest columns; empires reared sublime; 
 
 The mind's great efforts; Nature's wonders prime. 
 In his sharp fang succumb. Thus Allah wills — 
 
 They rise spontaneous; at th' appointed chime 
 Expiring sink. The mightiest globe that fills 
 The depthless void for naught its wondrous power distills. 
 
 'Tis evening's hour. The dying orb of day 
 Veils his last gleam beyond the purple sea, 
 
 As sad Ben Nebo wends his lonely way 
 
 Down the steep hill and o'er the winding lea, 
 To where a trench beneath a rifted tree 
 
 Wide-gaping yawns. Here must the mate repose; 
 His oft-selected tomb, and near where she, 
 
 Timandra, whom he loved, when living chose 
 As her eternal crypt when life's black dream should close. 
 
€4 
 
 Whilst his dull task the pensive man pursues, 
 Excursive sorrows through his bosom stream; 
 
 Again the chequered past his mind reviews, 
 
 And scans a length'ned waste, where scarce a gleam 
 Of light breaks thro' the gloom — where horrors teem, 
 
 And all is turmoil, doubt and wretchedness; 
 
 Such the dark thoughts — unlit by cheering beam — 
 
 That his afflicted spirit earthward press; 
 Until he doubted life and longed for nothingness. 
 
 In vain! Who can reverse his orbit here, 
 Or guide his being as his sovereign mind? 
 
 Who shape his course as his own timoneer. 
 Or sail without an over-ruling wind — 
 Who mauger Fate can journey unconfined? 
 
 Man's but the toy of an omniscient power. 
 Whose foresight hath his farthest acts designed. 
 
 Hath sent him here to mewl his little hour, 
 And wither at a blast like the frost-bitten flower. 
 
 His day is closed before his Morn's begun — 
 Ere yet the grain is ripe the scythe resounds — 
 
 At one fell swoop his life-inspiring sun 
 
 From beaming light into grim darkness bounds, 
 Like downy-blossomed plants o'er meadow grounds 
 
 By winds impelled, his flying years succeed, 
 One raven shadow all his sky surrounds, 
 
 And dim the ray that may his spirit lead; 
 Here till his work be done, unhappy man must bleed. 
 
 Yet Allah ruleth all — in Him we move, 
 In Him our being have, our bents pursue; 
 
 He prompts to toil, he leads mankind above; 
 He bathes the landscape in its varied hue, 
 And wheels the stars etherial orbits through. 
 
 All, all are full of Him: the Seasons raise 
 Their thankful homage as they sweep anew; 
 
 And man, vain man should join the votive praise- 
 ExtolHng the great Source, of all that he surveys. 
 
Go 
 
 The crow is chanting on the rifted ledge, 
 
 Loud-roarings echo from the deep, where white, 
 
 'Gainst billow-breaking rocks along the edge. 
 
 Hoarse beats the surge. No more in serried flight 
 The wild-ducks fly; but on the sheltered hight 
 
 Condensed await in expectation still 
 
 The gathering storm. Anon in rising might 
 
 Upsurging ocean chafes; shores whistle shrill; 
 Crags moan; woods nodding roar, and howls the topmost hill. 
 
 As night o'er all her sable mantle spread, 
 Ben Nebo sought the solitary tower, 
 
 And whilst the embers weird reflections shed, 
 He close-encoiled in Retrospection's power 
 In doleful thought beguiled the wintr\- hour; 
 
 No soothing slumber lulled that thought to rest, 
 But fiery pangs his deepest soul devour; 
 
 Love still a vigil kept within his breast, 
 .\nd by the sounds without still deeper was imprest. 
 
 Imbound in moody dreams he drooping bent 
 Before the lurid and inconstant blaze — 
 
 Heedless of all — on his own woes intent — 
 Though rude without the blust'ring tempest plays. 
 And blows the flame a thousand diflferent ways. 
 
 But he, sad hermit in his ruined cell, 
 
 Disowns the present, and the past surveys; 
 
 By sorrow taught within himself to dwell — 
 He breathed on earth but lived in climes invisible. 
 
66 
 
 LAGOS ; 
 A TALE OF MEXICO 
 
 To GEORGE T. HANLY, Esq., Editor " San Frmndsco Star. 
 This Poem a inscribed. 
 
 I. 
 
 High-towering in the fulgent skies, 
 Rich with a thousand radiant dyes, 
 CoHma Hfts his rugged head 
 Where Evening's beam is glimmering red, 
 And gazing down the scope afar 
 First hails the waking vesper-star, 
 That, trembling o'er the western main. 
 Leads forth the nightly-glittering train; 
 And glancing on the latticed porch, 
 Still tinged with Eve's empurpling torch, 
 With pensive lightness coyly steals — 
 A graceful figure half-reveals, 
 A matron rich in beauty's charms, 
 Who lulls an infant in her arms, 
 And soft as plaintive zephyrs sigh 
 Peals the sleep-wooing lullaby. 
 
 Her face in glowing beauties drest. 
 The riches of her mind exprest. 
 Her lovely cheeks vermillion shed 
 Like blooming roses streaked with red; 
 Majestic grace her form displays. 
 Her eyes like radiant sapphires blaze, 
 Or drooping cast a softer gleam 
 Calm as the night dispelling beam. 
 
67 
 
 In garb of richest woof arrayed 
 
 That well her matchless form displayed, 
 
 She seemed a thing of higher birth 
 
 Than being of this lowly earth; 
 
 Flowers decked her rich brocaded vest. 
 
 And pearls gleamed brightly on her breast, 
 
 Which, whiter than the fairest snow, 
 
 Heaved with an ever-gentle flow 
 
 Like summer waves when winds are low. 
 
 She was in sooth a thing divine, 
 
 Of beauty the transcendant shrine — 
 
 Beauty, which Seraphs might adore 
 
 And hymns in admiration pour; 
 
 Such beauty as in days agone 
 
 On beauteous Eve was showered upon, 
 
 Or that fair queen of all above, 
 
 Pronounced the arbitress of Love. 
 
 Prone on her lap the cherub lay. 
 Nor agile more in wanton play; 
 But locked within its mother's arms 
 Sequestered slept from all alarms, 
 Blest by the tender look that fell 
 From her who loved it ovenvell; 
 For of all fires that warm the heart 
 Maternal love can best impart 
 A lustrous and unquenching flame, 
 That burns in every change the same. 
 
 As on her babe the mother's glance 
 Shone in a calm and pensive trance, 
 She dreamed as only mothers dream 
 Of what the future might beseem 
 To that, who of herself a part, 
 Now closely nestled to her heait. 
 She dreamed until her dreams were stilled 
 By a deep voice that through her thrilled; 
 And soon a graceful youth appeared — 
 His look her drooping spirits cheered, 
 And Lagos to his loving breast 
 His darling wife Corina prest! 
 
68 
 
 A daring youth lo ^\'arfare bred, 
 He long a troop of horsemen led 
 On many a dark, ensanguined field, 
 Where might the subtle Aztec wield 
 In all the craft of savage art 
 The lassoo and the venomed dart. 
 In worth, in honor fauUless found, 
 For deeds of daring far renowned 
 He left Altata's barren glade 
 To seek Colima's woody shade, 
 Whence from a thousand envious eyes 
 He bore Corina — lovely prize. 
 Unto his home again he came 
 Victorious with the beauteous dame, 
 And passed awhile the circling hours 
 Sweet as the balm of nectared flowers, 
 Till duty summoned him afar, 
 And bade him wait the shock of war, 
 Beneath the shadowy vail, that down. 
 Far-stretching from Colima's crown, 
 Throws on the varied landscape wide 
 Deep gloom when evening shadows glide. 
 
 In vain can dim-eyed man descry 
 The clouds that blot the future's sky; 
 To him it glistens all serene, 
 No shadows mar the smiling scene; 
 But whilst he gazes, shades arise. 
 And hoarse the howling tempest flies. 
 The drum-note wakes the camp around, 
 Colima hears the stirring sound. 
 And answers as from yonder hill 
 The bugle pours its summons shrill. 
 Rousing the soldier from his bed 
 War's slippery path again to thread — 
 That path that manly spirits claim 
 That lures but darkly leads to fame. 
 Yet which the brave so boldly dare, 
 Content to meet Death's fearful glare 
 A victor's gory wreath to wear. 
 The martial sounds vibrating far, 
 To Lagos speak of coming war; 
 
69 
 
 Up from his downy couch he sprang, 
 Obedient to the warHke clang, 
 And pausing but his babe to bless — 
 Corina's Hps to fondly press, 
 He hurried to the frowning fort 
 Where Vega held his martial court, 
 And joining there his chosen band 
 Of heroes from Durango's land, 
 Awaited his grim chiefs command. 
 
 As mustered on the level ground 
 The swarthy warriors stood around; 
 Doblado — second to his chief — 
 Bespoke his mandate stern and brief — 
 This Lagos bade in urgent need 
 His soldiers to Altata lead, 
 Whose people for some unknown cause 
 Had mocked the honor of the laws, 
 And conquering now in wrath and pride, 
 The nation's power unawed defied. 
 
 The soldier heard : with nervous hand 
 
 He raised aloft his glittering brand, 
 
 And waving the extended blade 
 
 Thus to the haughty chieftain said: 
 
 "Throughout the world no land I know 
 
 But this fair land of Mexico; 
 
 A native of her ardent clime. 
 
 Life should to her my faith sublime, 
 
 And I would gladly spill my blood. 
 
 Could she obtain a meed of good, 
 
 Yet to Altata 's hallowed site, 
 
 I cannot lead the deathful fight; 
 
 'Twas there my native breath I drew. 
 
 There to maturing manhood grew. 
 
 There still in honest worth reside 
 
 The friends of youth — my cherished pride. 
 
 Wherefore, I ask, oh gracious chief. 
 
 To spare an act so full of grief. 
 
 Nor to my ever deep disgrace 
 
 Press me to strike my native place 1 " 
 
70 
 
 Fierce ire aroused Doblado's soul, 
 And burst headlong through all control ! 
 In tig'rish wrath he glared around 
 And his set teeth spasmodic ground, 
 Then, as the angry torrent broke, 
 To Lagos thus he hoarsely spoke: 
 " Ha, dost thy craven spirit dread 
 The gor)' path of war to thread ? 
 And shun the duty which thy word 
 By Heaven and all thy comrades heard, 
 Avouched unto thy country's laws — 
 Reckless, if right or wrong the cause. 
 Ha, dost thou quail when danger calls. 
 And foes are thundering at our walls; 
 Oh, man accursed — oh, craven base — 
 Thou foul dishonor to thy race, 
 I will awake thy livid soul 
 And thy unmanly fear control, 
 For thou this order shalt obey 
 Or crushed beneath our stirrup lay." 
 
 He said: but scarce his words were cold 
 Than grasped within its iron hold. 
 Flashed logos' sabre in the light 
 Like bolt amid the gloom of night. 
 And, thence upon the haughty foe 
 Descended the resistless blow, 
 And bounding on the dusty mold 
 His gor)' head convulsive rolled! 
 
 Then from a thousand dusky throats 
 Grim horror rang in thunderous notes, 
 And fiercely many a visage dark, 
 On Lagos scowled with vengeance stark. 
 While sinewy arms around him closed 
 Which vainly all his strength opposed. 
 And him exultant bore away 
 To dungeon cell there pent to lay 
 Till prone beneath the muskets' breath 
 His haughty spirit sank in death. 
 
71 
 II. 
 
 Soft is the dying blush of day 
 
 That gHnts across the azure bay, 
 
 And touching Manzanillo's roofs 
 
 With pensive fire — meek evenings' woofs 
 
 In varied brightness bids them shine, 
 
 Like crystals from Golconda's mine. 
 
 And poised on many a drooping spray 
 
 Tuneful as evening melts away, 
 
 The warbling race their anthems raise 
 
 In deep, melodious roundelays, 
 
 That heard the echoing woods among 
 
 Seem tones by choirs ether ial sung; 
 
 While o'er the landscape beauty drew 
 
 Her pencil rich with every hue 
 
 That limner might attempt in vain 
 
 From mimic colors to obtain. 
 
 And as the lustre softer fell. 
 
 Meek silence breathed her elfin spell, 
 
 Save when the herdsman's light guitar 
 
 In plaintive tinklings rolled afar, 
 
 And stealing througli the sylvan wild 
 
 With dreamy notes the ear beguiled. 
 
 Sweet was the hour and sweet the scene — 
 Sweeter than Beauty's sweetest mien, 
 It soothed the gazing dreamer's breast, 
 Brought visions of that hallowed rest 
 Messiah promiseth the Blest. 
 
 Boom! boom! boom! 
 But, see, from yonder fort, how slow, 
 
 Grim-faced and mute, the soldiers come; 
 The trumpet wails a note of woe, 
 And hoarsely rolls the muflled drum: 
 Booml boom! boom! 
 
 Now halting on the training-ground 
 They form in hollow square around, 
 While from the hill, with cannon crowned. 
 Deep guns in minute thunders sound. 
 
 vNIVERSfiy 
 
 ) 
 
7* 
 
 Ay, he must fall, no hand can save 
 That warrior from a gor)^ grave, 
 Yet still he bears himself as proud 
 As if with war-worn wreath endowed; 
 Though shorn of every outward grace 
 Pride still is vivid on his face, 
 That pride which every hero feels 
 Though death-charged fate invading steals, 
 Which shines effulgent in distress 
 Nor pales till lost in nothingness. 
 
 The guns have ceased their thundering sounds- 
 No more the trumpet wails, 
 
 Nor funeral drum with dismal notes 
 The woeful ear assails. 
 
 But silence in her grave-like fold 
 
 Wraps every heart around. 
 And all in anxious dread await 
 
 The volley's closing sound. 
 
 But ere death freed his dauntless soul, 
 Ere yet he heard the drum's last roll, 
 A child's sweet voice the silence broke — 
 ** Mamma, mamma," it lisping spoke. 
 Roused at the cr}- — the prisoner turned — 
 And soon the lovely babe discerned ; 
 Then with a scream as woman's shrill, 
 That through each gazer sent a thrill, 
 Cried in a voice half-wild with joy — 
 **Ah, art thou there, my darling boy ? 
 Come, let me once again thee press — 
 Thee with my breath departing bless, 
 And thee unto my bosom strain. 
 Sweet babe — I ne'er shall see again ! " 
 
 She said: and from the guardsmen flew 
 And to her heart the infant drew; 
 Who gazing on her beaming eyes 
 Exprest its joy in piercing cries. 
 While all the stricken crowd around 
 Stood mute in deep amazement bound. 
 ♦ * * * 
 
73 
 
 'Twas soon explained — the loving wife 
 Resolved to save her loved one's life. 
 Disguised, she sought his prison cell, 
 As dusk enweaved her shadowy spell — 
 An agent from Corina came, - 
 From death the fated man to claim, 
 And bade him fly with quickest speed 
 While she would in his favor plead 
 For pardon of such wild misdeed. 
 
 He heard: forth from the dungeon sped 
 And toward the sea-coast swiftly fled, 
 Unknowing that Corina stood 
 Alone to brave a tyrant's mood. 
 And haply with her life-blood seal 
 That faith her fears could not conceal — 
 Sublime in woe as true in weal. 
 
 Thus rarely does the manly sense 
 To woman yield due recompense, 
 Or feel the ecstasy that lies 
 In an unselfish sacrifice. 
 When urged by love to idolize 
 She gladly for that idol dies. 
 
 To her who loves, but one deep sting 
 Can life with all its sorrows bring; 
 The baneful sting that galls the heart 
 Beyond the aid of human art, 
 When the terrific truth is known, 
 That all she loved 's no more her own. 
 That the fond object — loved o'er well, 
 Which o'er her cast a deathless spell. 
 Hath chilled its fires in blighting frost 
 And sinks from her — forever lost! 
 
 Corina felt the heavenly flame — 
 
 Resolved her idol's tomb to claim; 
 
 She daring trod the path of death. 
 
 Nor shunned the muskets' volleyed breath. 
 
74 
 
 Which soon beneath the leaden stoim 
 Had mangled laid her beauteous form, 
 But for her babe — whose instinct keen 
 Descried beneath that haughty mien, 
 That martial dress and visage swart, 
 And proud, imperious, scornful port, 
 The mother who with dauntless soul 
 Had crushed the feelings which control 
 Less noble spirits, and to save 
 Her Lagos, dared a tragic grave. 
 Its voice with talismanic power 
 Dispersed the terrors of that hour; 
 And nestling on its mother's breast 
 The lovely cherub — fondly blest, 
 There gently sank in soothing rest! 
 
 ITALIA. 
 
 Addreaed to Carlo Dondkro, the lulian Poet. 
 
 Italia, heaven-favored land. 
 Where Arts and Arms in pomp expand, 
 Where Beauty smiles and Passion glows, 
 And Music sweetly-chorded flows, 
 Where Love and Lore and Poetry 
 In holy sisterhood agree; 
 Land of Durante, mighty bard. 
 And Angelo, immortal-starred, 
 Who reared aloft the glorious dome 
 That signals still eternal Rome. 
 Land of the past, regenerate. 
 Of Garibaldi, hero great, 
 Freedom's transcendant magistrate ! 
 
75 
 
 SERPENT'S HEAD. 
 
 To WASHINGTON MARION, Esq., of San Francisco, 
 This Poem is inscribed. 
 
 Once in a sea-girt land 
 By tropic breezes fanned, 
 
 An ancient black to me a Fetish gave; 
 And solemnly averred 
 As he the boon conferred, 
 
 That it the wearer would from danger save. 
 
 The mystic thing I took, 
 Yet ill its shape could brook 
 
 For 'twas a Serpent's head of livid hue, 
 Enswathed in platted grass — 
 Begirt with clasps of brass. 
 
 And brazen chains most singular to view. 
 
 Of rubies were the eyes — 
 Death seeming to devise; 
 
 An azure crest upon its brow appeared, 
 And fangs of hideous white 
 Gleamed, a terrific sight 
 
 From yawning jaws ringed with a purple beard. 
 
 From Niger's sacred bank 
 Where nods the rushlet dank, 
 
 And huge behemoth growling mocks the main; 
 Chafing in endless jar 
 The marly river-bar, 
 
 From there this relic came — of ill the bane. 
 
 Blessed in the full-moon's light 
 Upon a festal night 
 
 From priestly hands an amulet it came. 
 And twined in grasses wierd, 
 Three-sided — double-speared, 
 
 For virtues great had won a shining fame. 
 
76 
 
 I took the talisman; 
 
 (And ye explain who can — ) 
 
 I from that hour was blessed by guardian Fate; 
 Coursed seas of vast extent — 
 Unscathed through perils went, 
 
 Through terrors which might Tophet ante-date. 
 
 And long that hallowed sign 
 Did near my heart enshrine, 
 
 For sooth, it seemed with sybil-powers endowed — 
 Braced me in hurricane, 
 On Cortez* howling main, 
 
 To steadfast stand when terror others cowed. 
 
 To mock the lightning flash, 
 The thunder's deafening crash — 
 
 And when a deadly bolt the steersman slew; 
 Nerved me with steady hand 
 To at the tiller stand. 
 
 And hold my post that night-long tempest through. 
 
 Yea, thus to me a charm 
 From every mortal harm 
 
 It was until one glimmering-moon-lit night, 
 When in the cannoned trench. 
 Upon a turfy bench, 
 
 I slumbered dense, worn with the noon-day fight. 
 
 There as I slept profound — 
 As near the sentry round. 
 
 His vigils held and pealed his signal-note; 
 In drowsy visions I 
 A swart form did espy 
 
 Winding his subtle hands around my throat. 
 
 Then with a sudden grasp. 
 The Fetish did unclasp, 
 
 That Fetish I so long as sacred held; 
 Then swiftly from me flew, 
 Ere I my sabre drew. 
 
 Or him did chase by deep amazement spelled. 
 
n 
 
 Then led my loss to me, 
 Alert I did pursue, 
 
 But that curst shade had from the gun-hill fled; 
 Nor aught of him descried 
 Though spread the chase awide 
 
 No sign of him, no trace of serpent head. 
 
 And thus I lost my charm — 
 So fate did me disarm 
 
 Of that eld negros' ill-averting-spell ; 
 And from that fated hour 
 In many a baneful shower 
 
 Misfortunes' ills upon me darkly fell. 
 
 But time rolled on — again 
 On Esquinapa's plain 
 
 A lovelier Fetish to my bosom came; 
 No serpent's skull it bore, 
 No waft from Quorra's shore, 
 
 No grisled charm — no eyes of soulless flame. 
 
 But in a woman's form 
 With vivid beauty warm, 
 
 And saintly face and eyes of raven hue; 
 And shape of peerless mold. 
 Locks rich as radiant gold. 
 
 And sweetness such as Eve unsinning knew. 
 
 With bosom lily-white, 
 With graces soft alight. 
 
 And spirit as Alaskan snow-flake pure; 
 A spirit breathing love 
 Like that the turtle-dove. 
 
 Avouches oft, that will till death endure. 
 
 So pure, so fair, so kind, 
 
 She seemed by Heaven designed 
 
 To show Perfection yet on earth had place; 
 That here in mortal mold, 
 As in earth precious gold, 
 
 Appeared a being of celestial race. 
 
78 
 
 And such to me she seemed, 
 Upon me brightly gleamed, 
 
 As yon night-lamp that now looks softly down; 
 Chasing each shadow grim. 
 That did my spirit dim. 
 
 As when the moon o*er gloom exalts her crown. 
 
 Yet ere the light I hailed, 
 It sank in shade enveiled, 
 
 As sinks yon star that late so brightly shone; 
 Hope from me swiftly past, 
 Despair his mantle cast, 
 
 My Fetish lost, I stood in clouds alone. 
 
 Long chafed I at my fate 
 In sadness, desolate. 
 
 As men have chafed whose idols all destroyed — 
 Have felt all pleasure fled, 
 That living they were dead. 
 
 By nought of hope in seas of sorrow buoyed. 
 
 Disconsolate I grieved, 
 
 And wreaths of cypress weaved 
 
 Around the love so rudely from me torn; 
 Nor deemed an earthly balm. 
 Could grief of pangs disarm. 
 
 Save that which comes to him to Ades borne. 
 
 Till I a Fetish found 
 In oracles imbound — 
 
 In oracles to man by Shiloh sent — 
 To soothe his every pain. 
 And wean him back again 
 
 To that pure state he once did ornament. 
 
 In Heaven's oracles 
 Mid many mystic spells 
 
 The Fetish Grace did there effulgent shine — 
 Grace with Redemption crowned, 
 And Faith, an anchor sound. 
 
 Fairest of gifts to man from hand divine. 
 
79 
 
 Nor withered serpent's head, 
 This Fetish could bestead 
 
 Nor that subHmer charm of woman pure — 
 Though this in beauty's sheen, 
 And that in ghastly mien, 
 
 Would fain the sense with magic art allure. 
 
 By Faith I learned to rise, 
 Above the woe that lies 
 
 A boundless flood around this lower state, 
 And saw if Heaven austere. 
 Sent anguish to us here, 
 
 'Twas but from dross our souls to renovate. 
 
 Ay, Faith alone can bless 
 All else is nothingness, 
 
 Nor rest like this Philosophy unfolds; 
 Where he by sorrow torn — 
 Above its billows borne 
 
 Rides into Peace, while Mercy steadfast holds. 
 
 So nerved with this ally — 
 I every blast defy, 
 
 Nor more a desperate man to ruin scud; 
 Elohim guards me well, 
 His grace my fetish-spell 
 
 For sinners wrought through the Redeemer's blood ! 
 
 LEDA. 
 
 Peters, who paints a portrait well, 
 In higher Art can too, excel. 
 As all must own, who gaze upon 
 Fair Leda and the amorous swan! 
 
8o 
 
 SAMOA. 
 
 To GEO. HUDSON, Esq., CounscUor-at-Uiw. ot San Francisco, 
 this Poem is inscribed. 
 
 By the sea-marge dreaming, 
 While the sea-wave gleaming, 
 
 Shakes its snouy crest along the shore; 
 Rest I sadly brooding, 
 Pensive thought obtruding, 
 
 Wailing visions lost forevermore. 
 
 While yon Orb descending, 
 O'er the sea-line bending, 
 
 Dips his golden axle in the main, 
 And wth added splendor. 
 Takes his last look tender. 
 
 Of an hour he ne'er shall see again. 
 
 And around him glowing, 
 Hues irradiant showing, 
 
 Flash the skies with draperies of gold, 
 O'er the offing glancing, 
 Elfin-like, entrancing 
 
 Every sense in Rapture's vivid fold. 
 
 Mj-stic fancies wreathing, 
 While the zeph)T breathing 
 
 Through the rustling palm-tops, scarcely heard, 
 Soothes the soul repining. 
 Every thought refining — 
 
 Tuneful as the nightly-singing bird. 
 
 And majestic rearing, 
 O'er the verge appearing, 
 
 Looms thy peak, Samoa, in the skies; 
 While like death drums beating. 
 Requiem strains repeating, 
 
 Sea-waves chant where lost Marina lies. 
 
8i 
 
 There her hallowed ashes, 
 Oft the Sea-sprite dashes 
 
 Ruthless-souled upon the coral strand; 
 There in anger broken, 
 Scatters many a token 
 
 Riven from her form with wrenching hand. 
 
 There the Sea-elf, droning, 
 Joins the green-wave moaning — 
 
 There the conch its sea-born murmur rings; 
 There the white gull wailing, 
 On the night-gust sailing 
 
 Dirgeful o'er her mouldering image sings. 
 
 Still, though lockt in ocean. 
 Memory, with devotion, 
 
 O'er thy tomb, Marina, oft shall bend; 
 And in lustre shining, 
 From the surge confining. 
 
 Beauteous as in life, thou shalt ascend : 
 
 Every murmur sounding, 
 Every scene surrounding, 
 
 Every changing hue thy shape restore; 
 In each mystic vision. 
 Like a dream elysian. 
 
 Rise thy lustrous form my gaze before. 
 
 Then ye hoarse-tongued surges. 
 Why in endless dirges 
 
 Sing her anthems, as forever lost ? 
 Though with sea-kelp laden, 
 Tombed, the dark-eyed maiden 
 
 Sleeps in ocean's billow rudely tost. 
 
 When each sunset beaming, 
 When my spirit dreaming, 
 
 Wakes her from her coral-guarded tomb; 
 Wakes no phantom livid, 
 But a seraph vivid. 
 
 Who with radiant light can every shade illume ! 
 
8i 
 
 SHI LOH. 
 
 To JAMES S. COLEMAN, M. D., of San Francisco, 
 this Poem a inscribed. 
 
 The glorious hour draws near, 
 Foretold by eld time seer, 
 
 When from a Virgin's loins a babe shall spring; 
 Nen'ed with celestial fire, 
 Elohim his mighty sire, 
 
 To sinful man enduring bliss to bring. 
 
 No quakings of the world, 
 No standards bright unfurled, 
 
 No shout of nations hailed the wondrous child; 
 The sphere unheeding rolled 
 Upon its axis, cold, 
 
 Nor mortal cheered though hosts seraphic smiled. 
 
 Not in illustrious power. 
 Nor light-bedazzling hour 
 
 He came in mortal shape to mortal kind. 
 But in a manger low. 
 Where but the star-beams show 
 
 His sacred form on couch of straw reclined. 
 
 Nor regal was the place 
 Whence to his erring race 
 
 He first to them an earthly shape assumed. 
 But in a lowly town 
 He left his godly crown 
 
 And bliss forsook to hideous trials doomed. 
 
 And thus the heaven-sent child 
 From pomp, from power exiled, 
 
 His life momentous upon earth began; 
 So into manhood grew, 
 So won by labor's dew 
 
 His daily bread, a humble, toiling man. 
 
83 
 
 So came the son of Him 
 Whom man with vision dim 
 
 Can darkly scan, as darkly contemplate; 
 Infinite, yet finite, 
 Eternal source of light, 
 
 Of mercy vast, of love compassionate. 
 
 No sect, no creed, he knew, 
 No Gentile, Pagan, Jew, 
 
 But that one creed which love sublime bestows; 
 That in all how'er base 
 Sees part of Heaven's race, 
 
 And o'er their faults a veil of kindness throws. 
 
 The mystic Three in one, 
 God, Holy Ghost and Son, 
 
 Shaddai, Logos, Shiloh, Comforter, 
 Emanuel, Paraclete, 
 With holy grace replete. 
 
 Of newer life to man — the messenger. 
 
 Yea, grace of compass vast. 
 For which might earth aghast, 
 
 In vainful search revolve her axle round; 
 Grace without curbing span — 
 To angel, demon, man. 
 
 And now as then to all unstinted found. 
 
 Thus charged with love to win 
 Men from the bond of sin 
 
 He came to lead them to their gracious Lord; 
 So made himself as dross. 
 So dared the fearful Cross, 
 
 So poured his blood for souls who him abhorred. 
 
 Oh, awful sacrifice. 
 Which but he could devise 
 
 Who stood o'er all for deep affection crowned; 
 Thou Shiloh, thou alone. 
 For man could thus atone. 
 
 Thou fount of heavenly Grace, of Love profound ! 
 
84 
 
 OUR LAND: 
 A CENTENNIAL ODE. 
 
 To IRA P. RANKIN, Esq., President of the Handel Mid Haydn Society, 
 this Poem is inscribed. 
 
 Time, wheeling in untiring round, 
 Now with a Century's garland crowned. 
 
 Signals that honored day 
 When Freedom, rising from her chains, 
 Triumphant swept her native plains * 
 
 On her auspicious way. 
 
 No trumpet now with shrill alarms 
 Awakes our warlike youth to arms. 
 
 Nor rackt vrith grief profound. 
 The matron lists in boding fear, 
 Or maiden trembling, hearkens near 
 
 The drums' convulsing sound. 
 
 Oh, favored land ! May Peace, as now 
 Thy free-bom hosts with bliss endow — 
 
 And Plenty ever reign: 
 Nor clamorous Strife with grisled hand 
 Across thy fruitful vales expand. 
 
 Nor thy escutcheon stain. 
 
 But vivid with a spotless fame, 
 And jealous of a noble name 
 
 Such as their grandsires bore — 
 Thy sons, the path of Right pursue, 
 With balanced Justice held in view, 
 
 And Freedom's beam before. 
 
85 
 
 While through each justly-ordered State, 
 Strict duty nerves each magistrate; 
 
 And villains, struck with awe, 
 Feel, though in public rapine bold, 
 That wealth cannot swell uncontrolled. 
 
 Nor power defy the law. 
 
 That all are equal — brothers blent 
 In sacred ties — on good intent. 
 
 And earnest to advance 
 The cause of Progress, and afar, 
 Extend the light of Freedom's star 
 
 Through Earth's unlit expanse. 
 
 Such be our land — this heritage — 
 This gift of an illustrious age; 
 
 By heroes boldly won, 
 When Tyranny they backward hurled. 
 And shook a deeply-wondering world 
 
 At glorious Lexington! 
 
 Heroic men ! They freely gave 
 All life allowed, this boon to save, 
 
 And by example showed 
 How we may use the gracious prize. 
 How duly to distinction rise, 
 
 On Honor's golden road. 
 
 They, nerved by Faith, and strictly just. 
 In Heaven placed unswerving trust, 
 
 And wrought with hope elate; 
 Conscious a never-failing power 
 Would guide them in disaster's hour, 
 
 And guard the forming State. 
 
 So led by an AU-Powerful hand 
 May we advance our goodly land, 
 
 Nor dread afflicting woes — 
 Disease, that smites with unseen force — 
 Nor haggard Famine, croaking hoarse. 
 
 Nor death-disparting foes. 
 
86 
 
 But while Contentment smiles around, 
 And decks the vales with Plenty crowned, 
 
 The husbandman shall sing, 
 And bless in many a gleesoine lay 
 The gifts which every circling day 
 
 In sumptuous bounty bring. 
 
 And as the strain vibrates along 
 Let ever)' voice resound the song, 
 
 And every heart expand; 
 Grateful to that Auspicious Power, 
 Who sheds an ever-bounteous shower, 
 
 Such blessings on our land ! 
 
 JOHN P. JONES. 
 
 When dark Inflation lowered upon the land 
 One spirit dared its wild career witlistand, 
 One voice was heard above the clamorous throng, 
 One voice that stayed its onward course along; 
 When JoxEs, uprising in the Nation's Halls, 
 Inclosed the monster in enduring thralls, 
 And all sagacious, nerved with Logic's force 
 Silenced its minions round him clamoring hoarse. 
 
 So armed with reason, fearless in debate, 
 May he still guard the interests of the State, 
 Be now, as then to public weal the friend, 
 Nor from his lofty station deign to bend; 
 So may he still against Corruption war. 
 And shine Nevada's peerless Senator ! 
 
87 
 
 INEZ BERRY 
 
 Inscribed to WASHINGTON MARION, Esq., of San Francisco. 
 
 Sad is the strain, by sorrow moved to sing; 
 
 I wail a gentle spirit passed away, 
 Smote like a lovely floweret in its spring 
 
 Ere yet full blooming destined to decay. 
 
 So thou, sweet Inez, once our cherished pride 
 Whom now we mourn with never-ending sighs, 
 
 A lengthened span on this low orb denied — 
 Thee only now our hearts can memorize. 
 
 Bright were thy virtues — bright thy winsome mind. 
 Fair was thy form — thy heart compassionate; 
 
 In thee, the fairest charms of womankind — 
 Those radiant charms that grace this lowly state 
 
 Beamed sweetly forth; a noble soul was thine. 
 With lofty purpose and with good imprest; 
 
 Yea, heavenly light did on thee brightly shine, 
 And thee in Virtue's beaming graces drest. 
 
 By this thou walked serenely to the goal 
 
 Of deathless life, though ills did thee surround; 
 
 Foresaw eternal rest when freed thy soul, 
 And passing hence a blessed refuge found. 
 
 And though departed ere thy star was full, 
 Why at the stroke should we in grief repine ? 
 
 No mortal plaint can Heaven's will annul. 
 And love with faith its idol must resign. 
 
88 
 
 Nor should we grieve, since thy translated shade 
 Now feels the bliss of life by goodness won; 
 
 Why hopeless droop in dismal serge arrayed 
 When thou art cheered by an unclouded sun ? 
 
 Alas! The heart still toward its idols turns, 
 Still dreams of those once hallowed by its love, 
 
 Still incense to the loved one fondly burns, 
 And hapless ^'ails the seraph throned above. 
 
 So thou, sweet Inez, still our hearts for thee 
 In never-ceasing plaints of anguish weep. 
 
 Grieving, alas! that thou hast ceased to be, 
 Or with us here thine earthly pathway keep. 
 
 And grieving still, as evening circles round. 
 And ruddy tinges flush the western sky. 
 
 Shall Pity at thy shrine be constant found, 
 And sad Remembrance o'er thee deeply sigh ! 
 
 POET'S GRAVE. 
 
 To EDWIN DEAKIN. Etq.. Artist, of S»n Francisco. 
 This Poem is inscribed. 
 
 When after all the toils of life 
 
 The minstrel seeks the mystic shore, 
 
 And anchored from the stormy strife, 
 At earthly tempests frets no more; 
 
 Then in a woodland's questered shade 
 Be his forsaken temple laid. 
 Where mortal foot may rarely press; 
 Secluded in the wilderness, 
 Where human plaint or human tear, 
 Or voice of pilgrim passing near 
 
 Cannot offend 
 His shadow, lost in thought austere. 
 
89 
 
 But where impend 
 Arboreal clusters dense, may gales 
 In ever deep, pathetic wails, 
 
 His dirges sound. 
 
 And woods, vine-crowned. 
 Their wild-toned tributes breathe, 
 And grasses fondly wreathe 
 
 His burial mound; 
 The only laurels save his song, 
 As should enwave his tomb along, 
 Or murmur, as they nod inclined, 
 His memory to the rustling wind. 
 Or when the wild blast hoarsely sings 
 And strikes the woodland's mazy strings, 
 Be this alone his funeral peal; 
 Or, if a softer music steal 
 From warbling choirs in secret hid, 
 He needs no worthier pyramid 
 Than their sweet lays — a votive song 
 That rolls unending as the sphere along. 
 
 While in successive round, 
 
 With rose or snow-drop crowned. 
 The flying years on tireless axle bound; 
 While Spring in radiant smiles appears, 
 Or Autumn, sallow-browed careers. 
 Shall flower)' tributes, grasses brown, 
 And withered leaves and tufts that crown 
 The arching oak and riven bark. 
 And mosses white and lichens dark, 
 Immingling o'er his grave arise, 
 Like him, to time a sacrifice. 
 And build his monument, that lasts 
 Till Winter wakes his sullen blasts. 
 That wastes with every year away, 
 And rises to again decay. 
 
 While through the woods that intervene 
 His tomb and ocean's marge between. 
 May through the curving boughs be seen 
 The heaving billow, crisp and green, 
 O'er which in life he may have been. 
 
90 
 
 Now stretching far and foaming white, 
 
 And glancing in the mii-day Hght, 
 
 Or flushed with morning's crimson ray, 
 
 Or golden-hued at set of day; 
 
 Yet in each change the same vast deep 
 
 Where airj* sprites their orgies keep, . 
 
 And whose hoarse voice upon the shore, 
 
 Perpetual pours its muffled roar, 
 
 That roar, which he who sleeps, again 
 
 May soothe as when the billowy plain 
 
 He swept and grimly joyed to hear 
 
 Those mournful echoes pulsing near. 
 
 Still pulsing may his shadow hear, 
 
 And tremble with a joy severe, 
 
 Like that which shades from earth removed, 
 
 May feel lor those they deeply loved, 
 
 When some chance accent wakes again 
 
 The hallowed face and sacred strain; 
 
 Or saddened at the gloomy peal 
 
 Perchance a tinge of sadness feel 
 
 When Memory, answering to the sound. 
 
 Recalls the past, with sorrow crowned. 
 
 Or when as Eventide 
 
 In rosy blushes dyed, 
 Crawls wierdly o'er the glimmering land, 
 And deeper on the winding strand 
 
 The billows beat. 
 
 And elfin strains repeat: 
 
 May one blest Shade arise. 
 
 One whom Love deifies, 
 And white- winged to his tomb repair, 
 And cheer his shadow drooping there, 
 Which haply mourns the lyre foregone. 
 Nor heard its strains the earth upon ; 
 As nerveless as the minstrel's fame 
 That's but a tablets fading name, 
 Yet which ^the'powers of Nature own, 
 Though deep in nought by mankind thrown. 
 And so the winds his requiems sing, 
 So trills with grief each leafy string. 
 So warbling birds awake their lays. 
 So o'er his dust stars sadly blaze; 
 
91 
 
 While fairy shapes at midnight brood, 
 And wailing shake the solitude, 
 Or nymphs by moonlight haunt the glade 
 Where he they loved is mouldering laid — 
 A deep-set grief all Nature feels, 
 Each gust, each lay, this grief reveals. 
 She mourns the Bard, who loving her 
 Was her sweet-tongued interpreter ! 
 
 MIDNIGHT: 
 A REMINISCENCE OF MAZATLAN. 
 
 Inscribed to HENRY A. COBB, Major-General, 
 National Guard of California. 
 
 'Tis midnight, and across the azure skies 
 
 The glistening spheres with noiseless step pursue 
 
 Their endless march. Silence o'er all expands 
 
 Her dreamy pall, nor voice is heard to break 
 
 Its funeral stillness, save the sentry's cry 
 
 As on the Cuartel's parapet he keeps 
 
 His watchful vigil — or, when lengthening deep 
 
 From oceans' marge the restless surge resounds, 
 
 And moaning, fills the heart with sadness wierd. 
 
 Save these dull sounds, the air unbroken rests, 
 
 And earth and sky in silence sleep enjoined. 
 
 It was an hour for thought — for solemn thought 
 Born of its mystery, when visions strange 
 And nameless from the realms of shade, arise 
 In shape fantastic; when the soul returns 
 Upon the past and mirrors various things 
 Long in oblivion tombed, and spectres wake 
 To blast the senses with their woful forms. 
 
 Of rM£ '^ 
 
 'NIYER8(Tr 
 
0* 
 
 Cbanned by the hour, across my spirit stole 
 
 A soothing harmo.iy. yet mixt with j^in 
 
 As all things earth-b.irn, and in dreams profound 
 
 I silent sat without the gate that led 
 
 Into the guard-room. At length, upon 
 
 My ears a sound of hoofs resounded, and 
 
 I saw the figure of a horseman speed 
 
 Along the highway. Thundering on he came. 
 
 But ere the gate he reached, a loud report 
 
 Prolonged upon the air and from his steed 
 
 The rider fell. Quick at the sound 
 
 The guard turned out; some, hastened to the spot 
 
 Where he had fallen — others, ran to seize 
 
 The assassin, whom they found concealed beneath 
 
 The carriage of a cannon. Him they seized 
 
 And bore with haste imperious to the ward 
 
 Where stood the colonel of the barrack, roused 
 
 From slumber, by the shot's alarming sound. 
 
 He was a renegade from Ures — 
 An Indio, who for some slight had sworn 
 The General's life. Encharged with this resolve 
 He deftly lurked within the Cuartel-yard 
 By a huge field-piece hid, and screened by night 
 There, as the General, rode as wont to make 
 His midnight round, the stealthy watcher fired, 
 And from his carbine, launched the messenger 
 Of death precipitate. The victim fell 
 And from the wound his soul immediate rushed. 
 One act was played. 
 
 The second hastened on. 
 There was an ancient Square that fronted on 
 The sea, but now abandoned, rarely used 
 Save when some deed of blood betimes required 
 Its brief employment. In the centre stood 
 A tall and time-worn column, on whose top 
 A ponderous lantern swung— a lurid star 
 That oft had lighted souls to fate malign. 
 And now must light another soul along 
 The road of death. 
 
93 
 
 Against this mouldering spire 
 The swarthy murderer stood. His iron face 
 No sign of fear evincing, as erect 
 He scowled upon the deathful band, whose hands 
 Trained the portentous muzzles on his heart. 
 Without, in a half-crescent, stood the crowd 
 Restless and silent, while aligned within 
 The soldiery appeared. 
 
 All was prepared. 
 Sudden the drum-note rolled, and rattling loud 
 The muskets' voice in hoarse alarum swelled — 
 And weltering in his gore the murderer lay 
 Quivering beneath the glimmering light. Then quick 
 A woman frenzied— aged, yet strong withal, 
 Burst wildly through the throng, and with a shriek 
 Fell headlong on the blood-stained corse, and cried — 
 ** My son! my son! " 
 
 PARADISE 
 
 To GEORGE ED. BARNES, Dramatic Editor " Morning Call, 
 This Poem is inscribed. 
 
 It is the hour of eve 
 
 When radiant flushes leave 
 The pallid visage of departing day, 
 
 And on the purple rim 
 
 Of ocean, glimmering dim, 
 His golden team retiring steals away. 
 
 Now hushed, the balmy air. 
 
 Is sprent with tinges fair — 
 With blazing wafts that round his axle cling, 
 
 Nor wavers at a sound, 
 
 Save ocean's voice profound, 
 Or veering sea-gull wierdly murmuring. 
 
94 
 
 A season meet for rest 
 
 By meditation blest, 
 When Fancy weaves her soul-enchanting spells, 
 
 And elfish visions rise 
 
 As bright as yonder skies, 
 And Recollection many a legend tells. 
 
 Lockt in this alley green — 
 
 These cassia plumes between. 
 Supinely laid , a dreamer rests alone — 
 
 Beholds with pensive eyes 
 
 The sunset-painted skies, 
 And saddens at the surfs unceasing moan. 
 
 While as the lulling wind. 
 
 Like harp of spirit kind, 
 Sings its aerial dirges sadly low, 
 
 He owns a grief austere, 
 
 He mourns a memory dear. 
 He droops above the urn of long ago. 
 
 And marks a rising star, 
 
 A glistening gem afar, 
 Pinnwi on the sombre cowl of lowering night, 
 
 A lustrous messenger, 
 
 A halcyon ray, from her 
 Who long from earth hath winged a heavenly flight. 
 
 He kindles at the glow, 
 
 A joy dispels his woe, 
 As shadow flies before advancing light. 
 
 The heavens open wide, 
 
 Celestial beings glide — 
 Celestial scenes amaze his raptured sight. 
 
 He sees a land of flowers. 
 
 Of rose-bespangled bowers, 
 Of emerald lawns and twilight-shaded dells, 
 
 Where dreamy silence broods 
 
 In olive-tinted woods, 
 And jocund Pleasure, haunts the grottoed cells. 
 
95 
 
 Where dark-eyed houris fair, 
 
 Await his advent there, 
 And one he loved — with soul-entrancing eyes, 
 
 Leads forth the glowing throng, 
 
 While love, and mirth, and song. 
 Proclaim the wildering joys of Paradise! 
 
 THY SACRED TOMB. 
 
 Inez, upon thy sacred tomb 
 
 Perpetual blossoms sweetly spring, 
 
 There, curtained in the sylvan gloom, 
 The warbling birds thy dirges sing. 
 
 There, the complaining dove bemoans 
 Thy beauteous form, the turf beneath, 
 
 And gentle winds in plaintive tones, 
 Their mournful tributes sadly breathe. 
 
 Each wailing gust, each warbled sound, 
 Thy form in fancy shall restore, 
 
 Thy face in every thought be found. 
 Till thought itself shall be no more ! 
 
 CHARLES W. ALEXANDER. 
 
 He paints a portrait of unusual power — 
 By travel's lightened many a weary hour — 
 And had his gifts to Art devoted been, 
 A better artist we had rarely seen; 
 But, druid-like, he loves the sylvan wild. 
 And worships Nature far from man exiled. 
 
96 
 YOSEMITE 
 
 CompoAMl on tuing a painting of Vosemite, by William Kbith. 
 
 Before me grandly rise 
 
 Like turrets to the skies 
 The rampart walls that bound Yoscmite; 
 
 Whose vale, an emerald gem 
 
 On Nature's diadem, 
 Lies walled in rock, as guarded jealously. 
 
 And high in sunlight thrown, 
 
 Each mighty beveled cone 
 Glints back the saffron hues of setting day, 
 
 And sliafts of crispy light 
 
 Pierce the deep valley's night, 
 Where lucent rivers wind their solemn way. 
 
 While from the topmost ledge 
 
 That )-awns o'er ether's edge, 
 Descending, Merced, rolls his foaming stream ; 
 
 And seems in fancy's ear 
 
 To chant in tones austere 
 The story of his ever-hallowed dream. 
 
 Of ages that have past. 
 
 Of nations' tomb^^^ard cast. 
 Of a>»-ful deeds within this temple wrought 
 
 By elemental rage. 
 
 Whose deeply graven page 
 Is the tremendous vale with wonders fraught. 
 
 A dream of m}'stic days. 
 
 Ere yet the Saxon's gaze 
 Upon this scene of marvels swept profound; 
 
 Ere yet thy genius, Keith, 
 
 Had wove thy artist wreath. 
 Or bade the canvas glow with nature crowned. 
 
97 
 UNDER THE PALM. 
 
 To Don MIGUEL G. PRITCHARD. (San Francisco.) 
 Acting Consul of Mexico, this Poem is inscribed. 
 
 Here beneath this shading palm 
 Let me rest in dreamy ease, 
 Far from every rude alarm, 
 While the spirit- soothing breeze, 
 And the ever-moaning seas 
 Roll their elfin lullabies. 
 Now my vision wanders o'er 
 Boundless surge and broken shore, 
 To yon crest of seething foam, 
 Where the shrieking sea-gulls roam, 
 And the breakers' endless jar, 
 Like a drum-peal heard afar, 
 Rises from the coral-bar; 
 Thence, beyond the glimmering deep, 
 Where the long-drawn cloudlets sleep — 
 Stretcht profound. 
 Crimson-crowned, 
 Drowsy as the stillness brooding round. 
 
 Now I mark the setting sun, 
 (His diurnal circuit run,) 
 On the golden-tinted verge. 
 His effulgent wheel immerge — 
 Flashing, ere he sinks in night. 
 O'er the scene a richer light; 
 While aglow with rainbow dyes. 
 Blaze the cloudy-pillared skies, 
 And the ocean, flushed with light. 
 Glints like jasper on the sight. 
 Till adown the purple rim 
 
 Softly veering — 
 
 Disappearing, 
 Pales his glance in shadow dim. 
 
98 
 
 Now the gull on fluttering wings 
 
 Wear)' seeks her nightly rest, 
 
 Home-returning, wierdly sings — 
 
 Toil-worn from the billow's crest. 
 And the elfs of night come out, 
 Hear the owlets dismal shout — 
 See the fire-flies flit about! 
 Bearing through the woodland dark, 
 Each his redly- glancing spark, 
 While the beetle deeply drones; 
 And with louder pulsing tones 
 Like a dirge-peal beat afar, 
 Hoarsely chants the harbor-bar; 
 Hoarsely chants, while softly rise 
 Star-lamps in the arching skies. 
 And her leaden-colored pall 
 Sadly, Night, casts over all. 
 
 Now within this sylvan gloom 
 Let my soul with Love commune, 
 
 lA)ve, whose light, 
 
 Ever bright, 
 Can the darkest shade illume. 
 
 Lo, awakened by his ray 
 
 Comes a shape all grief beguiling, 
 Radiant as the blaze of day — 
 
 Like a syren blandly smiling! 
 
 See her waxen beauties glow. 
 See her bosom white as snow. 
 See her face with blushes sweet. 
 See her form with grace replete. 
 See her eyes — how bright they shine. 
 How they glance with light divine! 
 
 And what bliss 
 
 In each kiss. 
 As her arms around me twine! 
 
99 
 LOS PADRES. 
 
 Composed in the Burial-Ground of the Old Church 
 At the Mission Dolores. 
 
 To JOHN MAC DONOUGH FOARD, Editor " Golden Era' 
 This Poem is inscribed. 
 
 Here beneath the willow, 
 
 Moaning like the billow 
 Softly rolling on a distant shore — 
 
 Rest I, sadly musing, 
 
 Pensive thought diffusing — 
 Vanished cycles deeply pondering o'er. 
 
 And around me lying — 
 
 Winds above them sighing — 
 Sleep the dead of long-receded years; 
 
 In the casket Hvid, 
 
 Ere the Saxon vivid, 
 Stained the hallowed sod with blood and tears. 
 
 Ere across the ocean, 
 
 Zealous with devotion. 
 Came the Cross-crowned Padre from afar — 
 
 Bent on holy mission. 
 
 Braving all perdition, 
 Following in his course the western star. 
 
 Through the portal golden 
 
 Sailed his galley olden. 
 Till in Verba Buena's spacious bay. 
 
 With her saintly cargo, 
 
 Peace her last embargo, 
 Anchored on the placid wave she lay. 
 
 Soon a church arising, 
 
 Savage eye surprising, 
 Beacon-like illumed the wilderness, 
 
 Rampart-walled infolding, 
 
 Ever steadfast holding 
 Gospel fires that burning shone to bless. 
 
100 
 
 Now the founders banished, 
 
 From the living vanished, 
 Moulder in the firmly-clasping mould. 
 
 Blind to every wonder, 
 
 Heedless of the thunder 
 Of Progression's Car, above them rolled. 
 
 Yei betimes appearing 
 
 From their tombs uprearing, 
 Rise their shado>^'s as they rise to night. 
 
 While the moonbeam tender, 
 
 Bathes in silverj-splendor 
 Every solemn-visaged, long-robed sprite. 
 
 And before me sweeping, 
 
 Time's wide chasm leaping, 
 Rolls the Past with all its varied 'deeds, 
 
 And the Friar v^'aking, 
 
 To his task betaking, 
 Muttering by the dim light, tells his beads. 
 
 Or, low-voiced intoning, 
 
 Through the chancel droning, 
 Slowly peals the spirit-soothing lay, 
 
 While the pilgrim, bending 
 
 Swells the chant ascending. 
 Veiled within the censer's incense gray. 
 
 With the vapor stealing. 
 
 Elfin-sounding pealing. 
 Strains unearthly breathe a mystic spell ; 
 
 On the spirit falling 
 
 With a power apf)alling, 
 Like the pulsing of a death-toned bell. 
 
 Harking to the chiming. 
 
 Faith the hour subliming, 
 Angel shapes in tuneful lays repeat 
 
 To my senses dreaming, 
 
 Rising heavenward seeming, 
 Benedictions unto Him, with Grace replete I 
 
lOI 
 
 TW^I LIGHT 
 
 To ALBERT P. BRAYTON, Esq., of the Pacific Iron Works, 
 This Poem is inscribed. 
 
 When in the twilight dim 
 
 I muse in sorrow grim 
 Upon the past and all its scenes recall, 
 
 I feel a pang intense, 
 
 As retrospective thence, 
 I think on those I've seen death-stricken fall. 
 
 Where are the forms I knew 
 
 Ere I to manhood grew, 
 Where are the youthful hearts that then beat high 
 
 With hope and ardor keen ? 
 
 Ah, vanished from the scene 
 In dark forgetfulness they mouldering lie. 
 
 Where are the sterner race 
 
 That later, filled their place ? 
 Alas! they too, have ceased to meet my gaze. 
 
 Save when, as now they come 
 
 From deep oblivion numb. 
 And fade again — ghosts of departed days. 
 
 So many thus have fled, 
 
 So many with the dead 
 Enrolled have been — that pondering on them all, 
 
 I seem to stand alone — 
 
 A life immortal own. 
 Proof to the shafts that fell and round me fall. 
 
 Yet though ordained to part. 
 
 Grief still distracts the heart 
 When forced to yield those whom it has enshrined 
 
 Among its idols fond; 
 
 Ay, sadly will despond, 
 Though in their exit wisdom be divined. 
 
 
102 
 
 Still, as we journey on, 
 
 Each step, a pilgrim gone, 
 Leaves a fresh void in the soul's caravan, 
 
 If love around him cast 
 
 Its silver cords, or fast 
 In stronger links, some gentler shape did span. 
 
 So as we trench on age, 
 
 Draw near our pilgrimage, 
 A vale of tombs the trodden past appears — 
 
 With horrors darkly spread, 
 
 Hopes broken, visions (led, 
 A vale of grief brewed with ceaseless tears. 
 
 Yet o'er the wraiths of all. 
 
 One form may love recall, 
 One form mayhap in beauty first beheld 
 
 At life's a>a'aking mom, 
 
 The day-star of its dawn — 
 That every hour with joy electric spelled. 
 
 Each heart bears such a star 
 
 That bums, though shadows mar 
 Its brightness, and to him who bears it glows, 
 
 An eamest of that bliss 
 
 That passed, the dark abyss, 
 All gracious Heaven on the good bestows. 
 
 Then hail, oh, sacred ray! 
 
 Sign of a brighter day — 
 Of sinless rest, which grief can never dim, 
 
 When those we loved, refound. 
 
 As seraphs, golden-crowned, 
 Our souls to endless joy exultant hymn ! 
 
 From apes, says Darwin, man has sprung — 
 He proves it by his apish tongue. 
 
103 
 PERDU 
 
 Inscribed to JOHN L. BOONE, Esq.. of San Francisco. 
 
 Where the sea-winds mutter, 
 And the sea-waves utter 
 
 Sounding dirges on the echoing shore; 
 Where the vocal leaflet 
 Sighs upon the reeflet, 
 
 There Marina slumbers evermore. 
 
 There the sea-witch moaning, 
 Times the sea-surge groaning, 
 
 There wierd Echo pours her solemn roar 
 Through the sea-cave broken, 
 Sprent with many a token, 
 
 Many a spoil from Ocean's wizard store. 
 
 There, where dimly breaking. 
 From the sea-verge waking, 
 
 Samoa's peak the azure waste surveys; 
 There in sea-weed braided — 
 Deep in coral shaded. 
 
 Hidden, sleeps Marina from my gaze. 
 
 Far from Pity weeping — 
 Love his vigil keeping; 
 
 In the sea urn mouldering in her bloom. 
 Sleeps the dark-eyed maiden — 
 Sleeps, while sorrow- laden 
 
 Sad rememberance wails above her tomb. 
 
 But though ruthless surges 
 Chant her only dirges, 
 
 And no signal points her place of doom; 
 Though no mourner wailing, 
 But the sea-gull sailing 
 
 Mourns her lustre sank in endless gloom ; 
 
I04 
 
 Still, when evening glimmers, 
 And the crisp \i-ave shimmers, 
 
 And thy brow, Samoa, purple dyes; 
 Pensive thought shall render 
 Votive oflferings lender, 
 
 Breathing o'er her fate responsive sighs. 
 
 And the crested billow 
 Beating round her pillow — 
 
 F.lfln-winged celestial realms explore, 
 And the gust au-aking. 
 Through the death-locks breaking, 
 
 Oft unto my sight her beauteous shape restore I 
 
 HAUNTED SHORE. 
 
 To DAVID WOOSTER, M. D., of San Francisco, 
 This Poem is inscril>ed. 
 
 Ho I nearer veer thy reeling skiff. 
 Ho! nearer to>*'ard yon looming cliff. 
 
 Upon whose pyramid, 
 
 Eve's glimmering lid 
 Now droops in twilight-shadow liid. 
 
 Lo, where yon white-topt billows roar, 
 There, Oarsman, lies the haunted shore; 
 There, three years since, at eventide 
 I stood that shadowing crag beside. 
 And saw her lustrous form expand — 
 A meteor-light along the strand; 
 I saw her fleckt with sea-sedge o'er, 
 And rise my wildered gaze before 
 To where yon planet glowing lies. 
 Like jasper in the purple skies; 
 I saw her, and — bismillah! now — 
 She comes! behold that headland's brow, 
 It lightens! say, what seest thou? 
 
I05 
 
 Naught but the rising evening star. 
 
 Away, purbHnd, yon lustre far 
 Outshines the brightest gem of heaven — 
 ' Tis she, by all my sins forgiven; 
 She comes from ocean's caverned tomb, 
 This heart of darkness to illume. 
 Oh, spirit, hail! thy form I know, 
 Though urned unfathomed seas below; 
 Thou comest to soothe my endless pain, 
 To light the fires of hope again, 
 To teach my spirit still to bear 
 The fiery wrenchings of despair. 
 Sweet image, hail! I thought thee fled. 
 Yea, tombed among the pallid dead; 
 Forever gone — though love like thine, 
 And sweetness, beauty, so divine, 
 Should surely be immortal things, 
 And rise from death on angel-wings; 
 Themselves a part of heaven, they 
 Should mock the canker of decay — 
 Ay, ever as enduring be. 
 As is my love, sweet Shade for thee! 
 
 THREE ARTISTS. 
 
 Within an attic reared on high. 
 
 Three artists skilled, their pencils wield ; 
 Brookes, who in fish can all defy, 
 
 And Deakin, prone to rush a-field, 
 And from Dame Nature beauties take, 
 That ever-pleasing pictures make; 
 While Loomis, of deep-sounding voice, 
 Will in a woodland sketch rejoice, 
 Or leaving oil, a " thought " to lay on, 
 Oft shows his fancy with a crayon ! 
 
io6 
 WHERE YON ELMS. 
 
 iMcribcd to MRS. H. A. DEM INC. of Sui Franciaco. 
 
 I^, where yon elms inweave a mystic shade, 
 And twining woodbine breathes a sweet perfume; 
 There, while my flocks have indolently strayed, 
 Have I with Fanq-'s pictures filled the gloom. 
 There, heard the bubbling streamlet chide along, 
 While rustling winds responsive murmured round; 
 There, heard the linnet pipe her cheerful song 
 And join the throstle's more harmonious sound. 
 3 here, in deep chorus heard the warbling choirs 
 With \-aried note the echoing labyrinth fill, 
 Jo)ful as Dawn alit her morning fires 
 And shone effulgent o'er the tufted hill, 
 Or mournful, when declining in the West, 
 Day sank in ebon shade his golden crest. 
 
 Hark! now their plaintive madrigals they raise 
 And all the wood remurmuring owns the sound, 
 While yonder sun enveils his crimsom blaze, 
 And Twilight spreads her dusky robe around. 
 
 I, too, shall breathe a sorrow-laden strain. 
 And sigh as fades the spirit-soothing light; 
 Bewail a day I ne'er shall see again. 
 Lost in the gloom of Grief's perpetual night ! 
 
 EPIGRAM. 
 
 Death once upon his usual round, 
 A cobbler on the work-bench found, 
 And cutting short his mortal tether. 
 Removed the sole from the top leather. 
 
I07 
 AWAY! UNCLASPI 
 
 Ii»3cribcd to GIOVANNI B. CEVASCO, Editor •• La Voce del Popolo." 
 
 Away! Unclasp thy waxen arms, 
 I cannot gaze upon thy charms. 
 Away! Enveil thy star-Uke eyes 
 Where death in dazzHng beauty Hes, 
 Or outward launched, a upas dart, 
 With ruin blasts the gazer's heart. 
 Away ! I dare not look on thee, 
 Or gazing, ever blinded be; 
 Those rosy lips I will not press. 
 Thrice deadlier in their loveliness 
 Than Papua's fruit of deepest gold, 
 Where venom lurks in every fold. 
 Away! Nor will 1 wind a tress 
 Though flowing in luxuriousness 
 It tempts the touch, a serpent-twine 
 I see in every ringlet shine — 
 As on thy brow, whose crystal white 
 Pales the pale moon's translucent light, 
 I mark a grisled spectre glare. 
 The death -fanged shadow of despair. 
 That warns — 
 
 Awaylvthy arms unclasp, 
 Than these, yea, rather python's grasp 
 Or barb of life-destroying asp; 
 Thou art too deadly— dear to me — 
 I dread thy love, yet worship thee! 
 
 EYES. 
 
 There's beauty in the light that lies 
 In gems that stud the vaulted skies, 
 But fairer is the glance that flies 
 From woman's love-inspiring eyes. 
 
io8 
 IN EVERY CLOUD. 
 
 laKhbMl to A. T. DEWEY. Eiq.. Publisher of the <• Pacific Rund 
 Pre»" and " Mining and Scientific Press." 
 
 In every cloud 
 Which may enshroud 
 This gloomy vale of woe; 
 
 Is hid a purpose, Heaven-sent 
 To man, on sordid wiles intent, 
 With worldly pride aglow. 
 
 If sunshine here unchanging shone, 
 
 Its lustre he would deem his own : 
 
 Of this low earth grow overfond, 
 
 Nor seek the fairer realm beyond 
 
 The mystic pall that darkly lies 
 
 Tween him and endless Paradise. 
 
 But wrenched by grief, his humbled sense 
 
 Desires a brighter recompense 
 
 Than's found within this earthy state, 
 
 E'en at its fairest, desolate. 
 
 And chastened by the wounding smart. 
 To Heaven lifts his suppliant heart, 
 Till adoration kindling grovs. 
 And soothes his spirit-lancing woes 
 With Faith, of bliss the harbinger. 
 From Christ, the eternal Comforter. 
 
 Thus, when upon a deluged world 
 The Dove her trembling wings unfurled, 
 No tree she saw — no place of rest 
 Where she might pause her weary quest; 
 And turning, smitten with despair, 
 Resought the Ark and sheltered there. 
 
 But when she found the floods disperst. 
 Nor earth in boundless seas immerst. 
 The greening hill-tops lured her sight, 
 She winged afar her wanton flight; 
 Forgetful, from the Refuge bore 
 Which she had sought distrest before ! 
 
I09 
 CARA MIA 
 
 Inscribed to Dr. S. H. ROBERTS, of San Francisco. 
 
 How fair yon planet's light 
 That gems the crystal night! 
 Yet fairer still art thou 
 Whom I with love endow, 
 Cara Mia! 
 
 In thy enchanting face, 
 A heavenly charm I trace, 
 The outward beam that shows 
 The spirit's pure repose, 
 That like a nimbus glows. 
 And sacred lustre throws, 
 Cara Mia! 
 
 Yea, saintly modesty. 
 With gentle ray, in thee 
 An earnest shines of worth, 
 And makes thee scarce of earth, 
 Cara Mia. 
 
 Thou art the beacon-star 
 That through life's stormy war 
 My being lures; thou art 
 The idol of my heart, 
 Cara Mia. 
 
 EPIGRAM 
 
 Augustus as a beau would pass 
 And so consults his looking-glass; 
 But finds whenever he looks there 
 A smirking fool return his stare. 
 
no 
 
 WHO ART THOU? 
 
 iMcribcd to A. ROMAN. Siq.. Pnbluher. of Su Francisco. 
 
 Hol who art ihou iliat comest to me? 
 A phantom from beneath the sea — 
 Pale as the form that lies below 
 Samoa's billow; white as snow. 
 And lovelier than yon rising star 
 That glances in the skies afar. 
 
 I know that shape — and art thou still 
 
 Obedient to an earthly will ? 
 
 Or dost thou come from climes unknown 
 
 To make this heart again thine own ? 
 
 Say, spirit; say — or do I dream, 
 
 And art thou but a fancied gleam, 
 
 A radiant vision of the mind, 
 
 Tliat passing, leaves distress behind ? 
 
 If this aw^y ! but if thou art 
 Of her the uncreated part, 
 Oh, with thee bid my spirit rise 
 Beyond those azure-arching skies; 
 Farther than Memor)''s surge can roll. 
 Or Anguish shake the hopeless soul ! 
 
 TO ALEXANDER BADLAM. 
 
 When from your meerschaum rolls the vapor gray, 
 Let every curl this salient truth convey: 
 1 hat, like a Pipe, Man is a thing of clay. 
 And, like its Weed, pre-destined to decay; 
 Each Nature's law unchanging must obey. 
 Puff here awhile and puffing melt away 1 
 
Ill 
 
 LAKE DONNER 
 
 Composed on seeing a picture of Lake Donner by Edwin Deakin. 
 
 Where mounts tremendous rise 
 
 In fleecy-clouded skies, 
 An azure sheet, thy lake, oh, Donner spreads; 
 
 Where Silence dreaming broods, 
 
 And dark, mysterious woods 
 Like giants crown the rifted mountain-heads. 
 
 There sleeps thy placid wave, 
 
 For now no tempests rave, 
 No ghostly shroud upon thy surface lies, 
 
 But winding valleys green 
 
 Appear thy cliffs between. 
 And mellowed light each crag with saffron dyes. 
 
 A scene of beauty all. 
 
 Marred by no darkling pall — 
 Here hallowed Rest, her dove-like wings unfolds; 
 
 Yet Memory o'er thee casts 
 
 A tale that sense aghasts. 
 And Nature in a coil of terror holds. 
 
 A shade of tragic gloom, 
 
 Which suns can ne'er illume, 
 Broods o'er thy wave, and will with thee endure — 
 
 Will sadden every gaze 
 
 That o'er thy bosom strays, 
 Yet still to thee the pilgrim wierdly lure; 
 
 As this impressive view 
 
 Composed with pencil true 
 By Deakin, wont to haunt thy gloomy shore, 
 
 And druid-like admire. 
 
 When flushed with morning's fire, 
 Thy rural wonders glowed his gaze before. 
 
112 
 
 MIGNONETTE. 
 
 InKTibcd to Mm, JENNIE & CLARKE, of San Franciaco. 
 
 Ether incense filling, 
 
 Spirit rapture thrilling, 
 Mignonette her fragrant breath exhales; 
 
 Fairy dreams inspiring, 
 
 Like the fanc>' firing, 
 Soul-entrancing, balm of Yemen's gales. 
 
 Oh, sweet joy distiller, 
 
 Subtle pleasure filler. 
 Thee I breathe, and wafted to the skies. 
 
 Deem thy essence glowing 
 
 Is the sweetness flowing 
 From the honeyed lips of girls in Paradise I 
 
 EPITAPH ON A COQUETTE. 
 
 Inscribed to P. L. PETERS, Emu., Aitia, of Saa Francisco. 
 
 A gay coquette, to many a gallant dear, 
 Lies buried in a rose-wood casket here; 
 Clotilda — she whose lips, all lips above, 
 Breathed of devotion, breathed of constant love. 
 But now, by Lethe's stream, in realms of night, 
 She weeps o'er scenes on earth her sole delight; 
 She mourns the lisping beaux she left behind 
 Low-browed Augustus for an ape designed, 
 And high-heeled Tummus, silly, but refined; 
 Yet more than these delightful men, or noodles, 
 She mourns her fan, her paint-box and her poodles. 
 
 
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