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 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 THE 
 
 PLEASURES OF MUSIC 
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 
 
 JOHN CLAKK FERGUSON. 
 
 LATELY PUBLISHED UNDER. THE NAME OF "ALFRED LEE/ 
 
 SECOND EDITION, 
 
 GREATLY ENLARGED. 
 
 tnhn : 
 
 R. GROOMBKIDGE & SONS ; 
 
 LONGMAN & CO. ; HAMILTON, ADAMS, & CO. ; G. EOUTLEDGE & CO. 
 
 CARLISLE : CHAKLES THUBNAM. 
 
 1850.
 
 C-VKLISLE : 
 
 PRINTED AT THE oniCE OF CIIAIILES TUURNAM.
 
 : rv 
 
 TO 
 
 DR. ANSTER, 
 
 THE CELEBRATED TRANSLATOR OF FAUST, 
 
 THIS VOLUME 
 
 IS MOST RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED, BY 
 
 THE AUTHOR. 
 
 ^^812
 
 PEEFAGE. 
 
 Considering the exceedingly favouiable and 
 flattering manner in which the First Edition 
 of tliis Volume was received, both by the 
 Press and by literary individuals of the highest 
 eminence, the Author has determined upon 
 issuing a second, wliich he trusts will meet 
 with an equally favourable reception at the 
 hands of the public.
 
 VI PREFACE. 
 
 He lias also thought fit to abandon the 
 fictitious name under which the Volume was 
 first published^ sUghtly to alter the title of 
 the principal poem, also to make the addition 
 of several smaller ones. 
 
 Caklisle, October Ibih, 1850.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 PLEASURES OF MUSIC 
 
 •AMERICA, A SATIRE 37 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS 53 
 
 VALEDICTORY ST.iNZAS TO "W. C. MACREADY, ON 
 
 HIS LAST APPE-IR.ANCE ON THE BRITISH STAGE 55 
 
 TO THE RHINE 59 
 
 ODE TO POETRY CO 
 
 SONNET: TO THE LOWER LAKE OF KILLARNET, 
 
 WRITTEN ON THE SPOT 63 
 
 SONNET: WRITTEN AT ABBOTSFORD 61 
 
 LINES WRITTEN ON REVISITING ALLONBY 65 
 
 VERSES MEANT TO BE INSCRIBED ON THE MONU- 
 MENT OF CAMPBELL, IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY 69 
 
 TO THE OCE.VN 71 
 
 LINES WRITTEN ON A THUNDER-STORM 73
 
 VIU CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 WRITTEN ON A CHESS-TABLE, MADE FKOM A PIECE 
 OF OAK T.1KEN OUT OF QUEEN MAHY'S TOWER, 
 
 IN CARLISLE CASTLE 74 
 
 VERSES 76 
 
 SONNET: TO THE FIRESIDE 77 
 
 AN EMIGRANT'S SOLILOQUY 78 
 
 LINES SUPPOSED TO BE WRITTEN BY A WE^iRIED 
 
 M.VN OF FASHION 80 
 
 TO A WILD FLOWER IN AUTUMN 83 
 
 A WINTER SOLILOQUY 86 
 
 LINES WRITTEN ON VISITING HOLTROOD 91
 
 THE PLEA8UKE8 OF MUSIC. 
 
 THE ARGUMENT. 
 
 Music given by Heaven to relieve the cares of life — Its refining influence, 
 and connection with all the nobler feelings of humanity — The IMusic 
 of Natiu'e — A Moonlight Scene and Summer Morning — The Music 
 of Church-bells, and the associations it awakens — The effect on the 
 mind of sacred Music — Allusion to the splendid display of Cathedral, 
 and the simpler form of Presbyterian worship — The feeling produced 
 by Music at a Soldier's Funeral — Its power of awakening patriotic 
 emotion — Allusion to the Battle of Trafalgai- — Social sensibility and 
 the love of Music connected — Description of a Winter's evening at 
 home, and the influence of Music in increasing domestic enjoyment 
 — Its power of awakening the dance — The ^olian Lyre — The pleas- 
 ing effect produced by Music amid a beautiful landscape by moon- 
 light — Music the most eloquent appealer to the heart — Its power 
 over memory — Over the emotion of pity — Its influence in soothing 
 the m-itation of the feelings— The human voice — The last appear- 
 ance of Malibran — Jenny Lind — Conclusion. 
 
 ^^^Q^MID the weary wilderness of Life, 
 ^^^^'Toiling along in bitterness and strife. 
 Say, Traveller, liast tliou found no fairy spell, 
 To charm thy care, thy mournfulness to quell ? 
 
 B
 
 10 THE PLEASURES OF MUSIC. 
 
 Music ! that spell is thine, to thee we owe 
 The sweet refreshing rest that gladdens Woe ; 
 'Tis thine to bid the throb of sorrow cease, 
 *Tis thine to jDour the grateful balm of peace, 
 And thine to make the raptur'd bosom feel 
 As much of Heaven as Nature can reveal. 
 
 Music ! sweet Goddess ! by thy power refin'd. 
 The charms of Taste exalt the cultur'd mind ; 
 Inspir'd by thee, Expression's varying art 
 Can warmth of fancy, feeling, soul impart ! 
 Each gen'rous impulse brightens into day, 
 Our finer nature has its wonted play, 
 While the sweet Sister Arts thy power attend^ 
 And all the softness of refinement lend.
 
 THE PLEASURES OF MUSIC. 11 
 
 Music ! where'er o'er Nature's face we roam, 
 Wide o'er the world's domain, we find thy home ; 
 The whisp'ring breeze, the murmur of the sea, 
 The song of birds are buoyant all with thee ; 
 Thine is the charm of each delightful hour. 
 When Spring's best beauty blooms around the bower, 
 And thine the sadness of the wintry blast, 
 That seems to mourn o'er Summer's glories past. 
 'Tis night ! the sounds of busy tumult cease, 
 The sturdy sons of labour sleep in peace. 
 No voice is heard around, no steps intrude 
 To mar the pleasing calm of solitude ; 
 The moon with silver gems the silent scene, 
 And o'er the waters throws her light serene. 
 Wide o'er the view the lovely landscape glows 
 In all the chasten'd beauty of repose,
 
 12 THE PLEASURES OF MUSIC. 
 
 And here, where wrapt in midnight, Nature sleeps, 
 Her tranquillizing empire Music keeps ; 
 The breeze that falls like magic on the ear. 
 The gently-whispering wave that murmurs near, 
 Breathe o'er the musing mind the tone of rest. 
 And lull each fever'd passion of the breast ; 
 Kemembrance there recalls each cherish'd scene, 
 Hid by the tide of years that rolls between. 
 Views the sweet hours of pleasure, long since fled, 
 Hours to the hopes, the joys of boyhood wed. 
 When lightsome Ardour gladden' d every heart, 
 And sportive Pleasure played her smiling part. 
 When Care and Sorrow were alike unknown, 
 Nor Vice had mark'd the bosom for her own. 
 
 How fair the brightness of the early morn, 
 "When by the breeze the flower's sweet breath is borne.
 
 THE PLEASURES OP MUSIC. 13 
 
 When the mild radiance of the dawning day- 
 Sheds its sweet sunshine o'er the landscape gay, 
 When the glad voice of birds salutes the ear, 
 And not a cloud o'ercasts Heaven's azure clear ! 
 Say, does the musing mind not feel the sway 
 Of gladness chase its sorrow here away ? 
 Does not the festive tone of Nature's voice 
 Bid the forlorn, the aching heart rejoice ? 
 Yes ! Music, yes ! thy joyful presence here 
 Inspires the heart with thoughts to rapture dear ; 
 Hope's cheering visions fill the lightsome breast, 
 And Life seems now in Fancy's splendour drest, 
 Age feels the sweetness of thy aid restore 
 The buoyant freshness felt in youth before, 
 And all the sportive fondness of the boy 
 Returns recall'd by thy glad tones of joy.
 
 14 THE PLEASURES OF MUSIC. 
 
 'Tis sweet to hear the gentle Sabbath bell 
 Breathe its soft accents o'er the village dell ; 
 And, as its silvery cadence meets the ear, 
 What feelings rise to English nature dear ! 
 How glows the bosom with that loyal pride. 
 To all our best and bravest thoughts allied ! 
 For, 'tis the sweetest Music of this land. 
 Where Peace and Freedom flourish hand in hand. 
 Where smiling verdure decks the gentle vale. 
 And health is wafted in the freshening gale. 
 Where live the brave in arms, the great in song, 
 Where Commerce dwells her crowded shores along, 
 Whose stately navy on the broad deep rolls, 
 And whose majestic sway unites the poles. 
 
 Is there on earth no great, no potent spell, 
 To raise the raptur'd mind from where we dwell ?
 
 THE PLEASURES OF MUSIC. 15 
 
 Is there no power below to fix the thought 
 On scenes of heavenly loveliness renaote ? 
 To bid us look beyond this narrow sj)here, 
 And feel that Mind's enthronement is not here ? 
 Thine is that spell, sweet Music ! thine the power 
 Which elevates, refines Devotion's houi*, 
 And wafts the spirit, on its heaven-ward flight. 
 To scenes that shine in everlasting light ! 
 
 Let Admiration pause, and ponder near — 
 Lo, York's majestic Minster choir is here ! 
 As the deep organ's tone inspires the while, 
 Come, let us pause amid the cloister'd aisle. 
 And let the rapt, the spell-bound footsteps bend 
 Where tower and arch their gothic splendour lend ;: 
 Here, as the rising anthem rends the air, 
 Devotion lifts the raptur'd soul in prayer,
 
 16 THE PLEASURES OF MUSIC. 
 
 Far fairer scenes delight the ravish'd view, 
 And Fancy's fading fire now burns anew. 
 For, in the sacred joy each strain supplies. 
 We feel the ecstatic powers of Paradise. 
 
 Or, would you pause where pious rustics sing 
 A simpler song of praise to Heaven's great King, 
 Go, view the spot where Scotia's mountains rise. 
 And torrents foam beneath the aziu'e skies. 
 Here, in the midst of solitude sublime. 
 Where craggy cliffs resist the power of Time, 
 Within those rustic walls that storms defy, 
 The solemn song of praise ascends on high ; 
 And, as united voices breathe around 
 The pure, iingarnish'd majesty of sound. 
 The sweet and simple form of worship here 
 Draws from its silent source the trembling tear,
 
 THE PLEASURES OF MUSIC. 17 
 
 We own the cliarm that Music can impart 
 "When least assisted by the aid of Art, 
 And, as the purest sanctuary, hail 
 The healthful freshness of the mountain gale. 
 
 Say, would you feel sweet Music's mournful spell 
 Cast a chaste sadness o'er the funeral knell ? 
 Then view the pomp which ushers to the grave 
 In martial state the relics of the brave ! 
 Mark the deep accents of the muffled drum ! 
 And mark the slow and solemn ranks that come ! 
 Here, as the plaintive march salutes the air, 
 "What mournful thoughts the musing fancy share, 
 "What gen'rous sorrow holds the spell-bound throng, 
 That marks the pensive pageant pass along !
 
 18 THE PLEASURES OE MUSIC. 
 
 Lives there a man to nobler impulse dead. 
 His best desires to sensual pleasure wed, 
 Whose clay-cold feelings never yet have known 
 That gen'rous pride the patriot calls his own ? 
 Say, is his form the temple where the light 
 Of Mind immortal glows divinely bright ? 
 Say, does it claim that majesty divine, 
 Through which the vivid beams of Godhead shine ? 
 But, Music ! charmed by thee what feelings rise ! 
 At thy command each base emotion flies. 
 Then brave, ennobling thoughts inspire the mind, 
 Heroic virtues flourish unconfined. 
 The love of freedom stamps the manly brow, 
 And injur'd Virtue prompts the gen'rous vow. 
 Yes ! mark the soldier on the battle plain, 
 Stirr'd by the power of ^lusic's martial strain,
 
 THE PLEASURES OF MUSIC. 19 
 
 When warlike hosts combine in dread array, 
 And Death's stern progress stains with gore his way, 
 See, how inspiring Freedom bids him glow, 
 And how his dauntless ardour braves the foe, 
 Till Triumph sheds her lustre o'er the day. 
 And cheers the warrior with her welcome ray — 
 Thus, when Trafalgar's wave disclosed to sight 
 Opposing fleets array'd in hostile might, 
 "When, ere the conflict rag'd, that strain^ arose, 
 Warm'd by whose power each British bosom glows. 
 The valour of her sons, fair England's pride, 
 Then stemm'd the stormy wildness of the tide, 
 Dispers'd the hostile navy that assail'd. 
 And Britain's matchless majesty prevail'd. 
 
 1 It is said, that just before the Battle of Trafalgar took place, the 
 band of the British Navy played the air of " Kule Britannia," and 
 thus inspirited the hearts of the seamen.
 
 20 THE PLEASURES OP MUSIC. 
 
 Who liatli not proved the cmj)iro of that power, 
 Which sways the joys of Youth's delightful hour ? 
 Who hath not known the social hearth impart 
 The glow of transport to the feeling heart ? 
 Who hath not felt sweet Beauty's magic sway 
 The Stoic firmness of the soul betray ? 
 But, waked by Music, all those feelings live, 
 Warm with the brightest fervour Hope can give ; 
 For, from that nobler nature of the mind. 
 Whose purest source is by her power refined. 
 Spring the sweet joys to so;:ial virtue true, 
 Joys which enliven but the heav'n-taught few, 
 And which the gen'rous heart dehghts to claim 
 As winds that fan the brightness of its flame. 
 
 How calm the joy Domestic Comfort brings. 
 When o'er the pensive world grey Evening flings
 
 THE PLEASURES OF MUSIC. 21 
 
 Her sombre veil, and round the social hearth 
 Delighted kindred show their wonted mirth ; 
 When the bright taper cheers the peaceful scene, 
 And Fortune's sweetest sunshine smiles serene ; 
 When fond AiFection has her purest play. 
 And Wit beguiles the happy hours away ! 
 Who would not leave the busy scenes of life, 
 Where jarring Discord swells the voice of Strife, 
 To view Domestic Comfort's calm retreat. 
 That spot where all the gentler virtues meet ? 
 What though no idle pomp, nor vain parade. 
 Proclaim the sway of Fashion's lordly grade ! 
 What though no flatt'ring courtier meets the view, 
 To utter what the heart believes untrue ! 
 Still the sweet joys that leave no sting behind 
 Give tranquil transport to the wearied mind.
 
 22 THE PLEASURES OF MUSIC. 
 
 Yes ! here are pleasiu'es, purer, dearer far, 
 
 Which e'en the Avorld's contagion cannot mar, 
 
 For Woman here, "within the storm-scath'd dome, 
 
 Inspires the calm, but heart-felt joys of home, 
 
 Gives a soft impulse to the tone of mirth. 
 
 And beams her sweetness round the household hearth, 
 
 'Tis here her virtues have their gentlest sway ! 
 
 'Tis here her presence sheds its purest ray ! 
 
 'Tis here the chasten'd lustre of her love 
 
 Shines like the silver moon-beam from above. 
 
 And here we feel that Nature chose to give 
 
 Her heav'nly form, that Man might love to live ! 
 
 But say, does Music here perform no part. 
 
 To bid the slumb'ring pulse of pleasure start ? 
 
 Say, does the tide of social joy receive 
 
 No streams, to swell the rapture it can leave ?
 
 THE PLEASURES OF MUSIC. 23 
 
 Yes ! Music, yes ! thy tributary aid 
 
 Has oft to evening's joys its homage paid ; 
 
 Oft have thy charms made glad the wintry hour, 
 
 And oft have ardent souls there owned thy power. 
 
 For, when thy cheering voice is heard around, 
 
 What welcome thoughts inspire us at the sound ! 
 
 Then brighter, fairer are our kindred's smiles, 
 
 Then fonder far the gladness that beguiles. 
 
 And doubly sweet the joys of home appear, 
 
 When Music's mirthful presence lingers near. 
 
 When Youth's gay numbers throng the festive ball. 
 How Pleasure's liveliest powers the sense enthral ! 
 Then Beauty shows the brightness of her sheen. 
 While Fashion's splendour dignifies the scene, 
 And, as the dance invigorates the night. 
 How glows the heart with undisguis'd delight !
 
 24 THE PLEASURES OF MUSIC. 
 
 Who does not feel the pulse's quicken'd play, 
 When Music then gives impulse to the gay ? 
 Yes ! when that sweetest pastime gains command, 
 To swell the joy of Pleasure's votive band. 
 When all the powers of Love's divine controul 
 Possess the spell-bound ardour of the soul. 
 And when exulting Youth delights to find 
 The madd'ning throb of rapture unconfin'd. 
 Then Music, then, the triumph of thy might ! 
 And then the splendour of thy noon-tide light ! 
 
 But, would you know the melancholy sway 
 Of thoughts which mourn the march of Time's decay, 
 Go where stern Winter sweeps the iEolian lyre. 
 And feel the pensive mood his gales inspire ; 
 Here does each whisper of the murm'ring wind 
 Wake to reflection's power the musing mind ;
 
 THE PLEASURES OP MUSIC. 25 
 
 Its mournful Music brings to Mem'ry's view 
 Far distant scenes to artless childhood true, 
 When Hope's delusive visions cheer'd the breast, 
 And promis'd joys that never were possest, 
 When the sweet fondness of Affection's power 
 Secm'd the fair boyhood of the ripen'd flower, 
 And when each simple sport could please, could charm 
 The mind where Care awaken'd no alarm. 
 
 Say, would you feel the sweet and soft controul 
 Of Music lull the passions of the soul, 
 And the fine fervour of the fancy rise 
 With Night's serenest scene to harmonize ? 
 Then, view the beauty of Italia's clime, 
 Where pillar'd arch displays the touch of Time, 
 And landscape lies beneath a lovelier sky 
 Tlmn e'er iu realms more Northern meets the eye ; 
 
 D
 
 26 THE PLEASURES OF MUSIC. 
 
 There, as the moon adorns each ancient tower, 
 And clothes with pensive grace the midnight hour, 
 O'er the hush'd wave should reach us from afar 
 The echoed softness of the wild guitar, 
 "Wliat magic thoughts inspire the ravish'd mind, 
 As each sweet note is wafted hy the wind ! 
 What fairy dreams invest Heav'n's vault serene. 
 Whose azure splendour decks the peaceful scene, 
 And what oblivion to the things of Time 
 Wafts the aspiring soul to realms sublime ! 
 
 But would you say in Woman's gentle ear, 
 How charms divine as hers to Man are dear ? 
 Yes ! would you speak that sentiment refined. 
 The tender homage of the love-taught mind ? 
 Then let the power of Music's voice appeal. 
 And the fond fervour of the soul reveal,
 
 THE PLEASURES OF MUSIC. 27 
 
 For, in its plaintive tone there works a cliarm, 
 Which can the storm of angry passion calm, 
 Which in impassion'd eloquence can speak. 
 When the best accents of the tongue are weak, 
 Can bid the coldness of contempt depart, 
 And touch the secret springs of Woman's heart ! 
 
 How sweet the power of Mem'ry's blest controul, 
 When scenes long past refresh the wearied soul. 
 When absent forms appear to Fancy's view, 
 And dreams of pleasure fled the mind renew ! 
 But can soft Music's voice not Mcm'ry sway, 
 Nor call her pensive beauty into day ? 
 Yes ! let that strain beguile the raptur'd ear, 
 Which oft in happier hours we lov'd to hear, 
 And ah ! what feelings rise within the breast. 
 We seem to be with bye-gone pleasures blest,
 
 28 THE PLEASL'llES OF MUSIC. 
 
 And each sweet, social scene again to view, 
 That cheer'd the heart when life's best joys were new; 
 We seem to live again in long-fled hours, 
 Sweet with the perfum'd breath of fairy flowers. 
 And all that heart-felt happiness to share. 
 That never knew the scathing hand of Care. 
 But would you see how Music can impart 
 Past pleasure's fond remembrance to the heart, 
 And with what plaintive eloquence disclose 
 The fountain whence our purest rapture flows ; 
 Then view the Switzer, when from home astray 
 He hears the air that cheer'd'^ his mountain way. 
 And mark the tear that moistens o'er his eye. 
 As Mcm'ry then recounts sweet scenes gone by, 
 
 2 The celebrated Eaiu do Vaches. " Get air si clif-ri dos Suisses qu'il 
 fut defendu sous peine de mort de Ic jouer dans leur troupes, pai-ce ([u'il 
 faisait fondre en I'armes, deserter ou niourir ceux qui I'cntendoient, tant 
 il excitait un nex4'ardent dC-sii' de revoir leux pays."— EousSEAU.
 
 THE PLEASURES OF MUSIC. 29 
 
 See how liis ardour longs once more to stand 
 'Mid the lov'd wildness of Helvetia's laud ! 
 And gaze upon each oft-remember'd spot, 
 Where humble happiness once cheer'd his lot ! 
 But such the thoughts the pensive Stranger' knew 
 When Mem'ry brought the scenes of youth to view, 
 When, through the mournful strain that met his ear. 
 He saw the joys to happier moments dear, 
 Joys that were his while yet the hand of Care 
 The ties of kindred and of home could spare. 
 While the undimmed sunshine of delight 
 Knew not the cheerless gloom of Sorrow's nieht. 
 
 Where is the heart whose feelings never knew 
 One tender pang to pensive pity true ? 
 
 8 Allusion is here made to Kotzcbuc's beautiful play of " Tlic 
 Strangei," Act iv. Scene 1.
 
 80 TUE PLEASURES OF MUSIC. 
 
 That never paid the tribute of a tear, 
 "When Grief's dejected accents met the ear ? 
 Say, can that heart of coldness deign to tell j 
 Of Music's magic sway and soft'ning spell ? 
 Yes ! hath it felt Expression's kindling ray 
 Give to its dark retreat the light of day ? 
 No ! Music breathes on all her heav'nly tone, 
 But finds respoDse in gen'rous hearts alone; 
 'Tis there she strikes a sympathetic chord, 
 That vibrates to the tune her lips afford, 
 And there she wakes the fulness of that grief 
 That finds in sorrow's burst refin'd relief. 
 Hark ! through the breeze* those warbled accents swell. 
 That speak the grief of Flora's last farewell. 
 When that frail bark departed from her view 
 That held the form her best affections knew ; 
 
 i The beautiful and pathetic Scottish melody, ciJlcd " Tloia 
 M-Douald's Lament."
 
 THE PLEASURES OF MUSIC. 31 
 
 Say, is that plaintive sweetness spent for nought ? 
 Say, does its fervour wake no gen'rous thought ? 
 Then is the glow of nohler nature fled, 
 And the dull soul to sordid silence wed ! 
 
 But, is the mind whence finer feelings flow 
 Not pierced more deeply with the pangs of Woe ? 
 And does each bitter ordinance of Fate 
 Youth's fairy dream of pleasure not await ? 
 True ! but the touch of Music tends to heal 
 Those keener pains that gen'rous spirits feel ; 
 Her gentle presence lulls the troubled breast. 
 And bids the tempest of the passions rest, 
 Steeps in repose the anguish of our grief. 
 And yields the care-worn spirit sweet relief, 
 Bids the fond dreams of Hope again arise. 
 And points to brighter scenes and purer skies.
 
 32 THE PLEASURES OF MUSIC. 
 
 But whilst her varied charms entranc'd we scan. 
 The brightest beam of Music shines in Man, 
 And through the wondrous fabric of his speech, 
 Perfection's purest powers she shows to each ; 
 For here the lamp of Life and Godhead glows. 
 And here the mighty tide of Reason flows ; 
 Here we perceive a deity divine 
 In all that Thought and Feeling can combine. 
 And here the fulness of Expression's grace 
 Has left the lustre of its brightest trace ! 
 For, when in song the warbling voice is heard, 
 What more than Music vibrates in each word ! 
 A something o'er us, life-fraught, sweet, refin'd. 
 Bursts with the winged swiftness of the wind ; 
 We feel a god-like sympathy within, 
 Touched by a magnet to itself akin,
 
 THE PLEASUEES OF MUSIC. 33 
 
 And drawn from earth to purer realms serene, 
 Where brighter glories gild each heav'nly scene, 
 Where ravish'd Fancy finds a fuller view 
 Than e'er below her stinted vision knew. 
 And where the influence of a purer clime 
 Tunes Mind's immortal chord to thought subHme ! 
 
 What potent pencil can depict the scene, 
 That owned the sway of song's majestic Queen ? 
 Yes ! what bright fancy can those moments scan. 
 When sank the setting sun of Malibran ? 
 There, the surpassing sweetness of her song 
 Thrill'd with admiring awe a raptur'd throng ! 
 There, in the fervour of each fearful tone. 
 The flash of more than inspiration shone ! 
 And there, with all the majesty of art. 
 Her heaven-taught genius triumph'd o'er the heart !
 
 34 THE PLEASURES OF MUSIC. 
 
 But, with that mighty energy's display, 
 The strain'd supports of Nature yielded way ! 
 Her soul aspir'd in fairer climes to glow, 
 And burst the ties that bound it here below ; 
 The powers of struggling Sense were overcome. 
 And that transcendant voice in death was dumb ! 
 But who that mark'd the splendour of that scene 
 Can pause unmov'd, and muse o'er what hath been ? 
 Or who that heard her parting accents tone 
 Will cast her image e'er from Mem'ry's throne ? 
 No ! the wild fervour of that last display. 
 The meteor blaze of Life's expiring ray, 
 And each convulsive bvirst of piercing strain, 
 That mark'd the dawn of Death's redoubted reign. 
 These, on the page that tells of nobler man, 
 Shall fix the immortal name of Malibran !
 
 THE PLEASURES OP MUSIC. 35 
 
 But who is she whom glitt'ring throngs admire. 
 Nor own the magic of her Music tire ? 
 Lo ! Sweden's far-fam'd songstress meets the view, 
 And kings and princes pay the tribute due ; 
 Here, as she sings, her voice with wonder thrills. 
 And with delight her raptur'd bosom fills, 
 Her gesture's grace, by Inspiration taught. 
 Makes song the picture of each finer thought, 
 And while the past one image can supply, 
 Her great and glorious name will never die ! 
 
 Music ! the magic of thy matchless power 
 Sheds its sweet halo o'er our darkest hour ; 
 'Tis thine to cheer this mourning world of woe, 
 'Tis thine o'er Heav'n enchantment to bestow ! 
 Yes ! when the mind has cast aside its clay. 
 And soars unfetter'd into endless day,
 
 36 THE PLEASURES OF MUSIC. 
 
 When bright Perfection crovras each nobler hope, 
 And fairer scenes give Fancy fuller scope. 
 When with the sense's finer, sweeter flow. 
 We feel the purest pleasure Thought can know, 
 Then will we own the climax of thy sway. 
 And to tjiy boundless empire tribute pay !
 
 AMERICA.
 
 A M E K I C A . 
 
 A SATIRE. 
 
 Fann'd by the freshness of the fav'ring gale, 
 From England's shore we ardent turn our sail, 
 And, o'er the waters carried, plough our way 
 To where the western mountain greets the day ; 
 For there, in zenith fulness Freedom reigns. 
 And beams her matchless splendour o'er those plains; 
 There, in the naked majesty of worth, 
 Creation's lord untitled walks the earth ; 
 There does the tide of justice ampler flow. 
 Than e'er in climes more favour'd here below : 
 Surely a land so great, so good as this. 
 Should rank the noblest 'mid the realms of bliss.
 
 40 AMERICA, A SATIRE. 
 
 O Art's most useful gift, Perryan pen, 
 Thou mighty lever of the thoughts of men ! 
 Sent from thy home in Birmingham, to lift 
 Each load entail'd on Nature's noblest gift ; 
 Thee would the Muse invoke, thine aid implore, 
 To conquer gravitation while I soar, 
 To raise with Titan strength my giant strain. 
 Then reeky Soho wont have smok'd in vain. 
 
 Now landed on the Transatlantic shore, 
 We view the laud where Bondage smiles no more ; 
 But how surprise and indignation burn ! — 
 A man in chains ! To England we'll ret\irn ! 
 Ah, no ! a man in chains it cannot be ; 
 'Tis but a form of woo to please the free — 
 What bad translators of each view are we !
 
 AMERICA, A SATIRE. 41 
 
 Alas ! that this is bondage is too true ! 
 'Tis real woe that darkly meets the view ! 
 Is this your freedom, shameless land of slaves, 
 Where the rough scourge the brutal master waves ? 
 Where stern Oppression chains her fellow-man, 
 Whom God could once with admiration scan ? 
 If this be freedom, where such wrong attends, 
 Such vile injustice — save me from my friends ! 
 O Yankee, Yankee ! where your right to claim. 
 Deceiving boaster, Liberty's great name ? 
 Is not the slave whose sufF'ring meets the view, 
 Seal'd by the Master-hand that fram'd you too ? 
 Beams not in him that noble, deathless ray, 
 The fire of Heav'n transmitted down to clay ? 
 If (as you say, then) equal rights should blend 
 The human race, in what clime shall they end ?
 
 4-2 AMERICA, A SATIRE. 
 
 Justice is blind, for, next her darken'd eyes, 
 The well-tied bandage light of Heav'n denies. 
 And in her hands she holds those awful scales, 
 Whose fair and honest measure never fails ; 
 But brib'd by Jonathan, though next her face, 
 The kerchief hides her beauty's beaming grace. 
 Still from beneath she steals a cunning glance, 
 In all the crooked beauty called askance ! 
 Nor are her measures all the proper weight. 
 To meet the searching majesty of light. 
 O I'm asham'd ! hold, Justice, hold, enough ! 
 Such blindness will not do for bliudman's-buff ! 
 Why does the negro not enlist your aid ? 
 You only act for him by whom you're paid. 
 And in the court that bears your Grace's name. 
 White versus black does still your favour claim ;
 
 AMERICA, A SATIRE. 43 
 
 There on the bench (if true the rumour goes) 
 Your Grace's weary eye-lids like a dose l^ 
 Pardon your most obedient — I'm afraid 
 Affront and insult to my charge are laid ! 
 No ! 'tis to show the wonders of that art, 
 Of which clairvoyance prov'd in you's a part, 
 That I unfold to European view 
 Mesmeric sleep that snores and judges too ! 
 
 " True modesty is a discerning grace" 
 That rarely blushes in a Yankee's face. 
 Nor have his manners e'er to us reveal'd 
 A useful reading of Lord Chesterfield ; 
 
 1 Mrs. TroUope, in her work descriptive of America, g-ives a very 
 ludicrous account of the manner in wliich justice is administered in 
 that country — a prisoner frequently making his defence before a 
 snoring judge.
 
 4-1 AMERICA, A SATIRE. 
 
 Or lie would give to rank the tribute due. 
 In other words than — " I'm as good as you." 
 Made by one God, we're equal all, 'tis true, 
 But, on the chosen Nature still we find 
 Bestow a more than wonted share of mind, 
 And to a lofty station man may rise 
 By skill or virtue, as the matter lies ; 
 Then should he not from us a portion claim 
 Of that which we bestow on Shakspeare's name ? 
 
 Politeness is that index placed without, 
 That tells a place of dwelling beyond doubt, 
 Its highest point Park Lane, or thereabout. 
 And ragg'd St. Giles's distant far below. 
 Owns the vile crowds that near the gallows go ; 
 Yes ! true politeness beaming in the face. 
 Adds lustre to refinement's purest grace,
 
 AMERICA J A SATIRE. 45 
 
 Though crush'd by sad misfortune's cruel sting, 
 
 Its owner wears the dignity of king, 
 
 And though in uncouth garb his form appear, 
 
 We feel the power of moral greatness near : 
 
 But coarseness is the Transatlantic boast. 
 
 And rude each vulgar scene that charms him most, 
 
 Nor do you view the graceful and refin'd 
 
 Fix their abode in his unpolish'd mind ; 
 
 You'll rather find that Billinsgatish slang 
 
 Will better suit the Transatlantic twang. 
 
 O Jonathan ! it is indeed no pleasing sight 
 To see all kinds of sects beside the right — 
 I fear you're blinded by excess of light ; 
 But, it is said, extremes will often meet, 
 The cold of Greenland and the Lybian lieat.
 
 46 AMERICA, A SATIRE. 
 
 And in your land, in morals so remiss, 
 Perhaps the Christian faith and Pagan kiss, 
 Or piety in you may oft produce 
 By counter-irritation practice loose ; 
 Thus for your sects, perhaps, wc may account, 
 Without quite draining Charity's fair fount, 
 Freethinker, Atheist, Mormonite, and all 
 Who in the list of Antichristian fall. 
 
 Hail ! last-nam'd tribe ! who wait a latter day. 
 And to the Rocky Mountains bend your way ; 
 Who think yourselves the noble, chosen few. 
 Whose praise will one day make the world look blue ; 
 Do you not consecrate that sacred bush 
 Whence Mormon's laws were first perceiv'd to gush ? 
 And does its berry raise your soaring pride 
 To taste its juice, no higher aim beside ?
 
 AMERICA, A SATIRE. 47 
 
 And wliy so vilify your founder's name 
 
 "With common epithet of Joe, for shame ! 
 
 Your great religious founder ought to he 
 
 A prelate, or at least in dean's degree ; 
 
 Archhishop Smith would nobly meet the ear — 
 
 And strike the mind with reverential fear. 
 
 And e'en the Keverend Joseph Smith would seem 
 
 A little more respectable, I deem, 
 
 Than the unworthy, common name of " Joe," 
 
 The title of the « lowest of the low." 
 
 You say you speak in hidden tongues, 'tis well ! 
 
 Heav'n speed the day when Knowledge vice shall quell ! 
 
 But, I forget, you coin phrase of your own. 
 
 That nonsense may for want of words atone, 
 
 Like that far-famed Hibernian, Pat O'Toole,'' 
 
 That linguist learned in the Jewish school, 
 
 2 Reference is here made to the laughable play of " The Irish Tutor."
 
 48 AMERICA^ A SATIRE. 
 
 Wlio on the gaping rustics, rang'd around, 
 
 Pour'd sucli a volley of o'erwhelming sound, 
 
 They would have thought (had they e'er heard the name) 
 
 That Pat with Person equal right should claim. 
 
 O skill'd in hidden tongues ! I wish to know 
 
 If through thy brain does Lindley Murray flow, 
 
 If thou hast learnt its use, or from thee flung, 
 
 Too simple, unadorn'd, thy mother tongue ? 
 
 California, had Columbus known 
 When first he made the Western world his own, 
 Of all the treasure hid beneath thy soil, 
 Well would thy shores have recompens'd his toil. 
 Nor to the court of Spain would he have told 
 Of lands that fill'd his carpet-bag with gold ; 
 More cunning he ! not yet in ardour gone, 
 Further than first to look to Number One,
 
 AMERICA, A SATIRE. 49 
 
 And to bestow, in that far spot of earth, 
 On his intrepid crew a jolly berth. 
 Who are the first to seek thy famous shore, 
 Which holds so rich a mine of Mammon's ore ? 
 Thou art the first, Yankee, in that race. 
 Where lucre's love has left so deep a trace ; 
 Vain in thy wish, and greedy in thine aim, 
 Attempt, Jonathan, some nobler game, 
 Eedeem the grovelling character of man. 
 Nor in the quest of Mammon head the van. 
 
 Oh, Oregon, alas ! how thou hast been 
 A bone of strife, disputing realms between ! 
 True, it is said that equal right may claim 
 To share thy pastures, and thy beasts to tame, 
 America and England ; one first found. 
 And first the other coloniz'd thy ground ;
 
 50 AMERICA; A SATIRE. 
 
 But, with that justice which was always hers, 
 
 England says " Halve," America demurs : 
 
 " No, on my rights hath crafty England stole, 
 
 I'll have my bond, the whole, the whole, the whole ! 
 
 Go, (like the fabled Acres in the play)^ 
 
 Tell her I kill at least my man a-day. 
 
 And if she wont concede me then my due. 
 
 Bid her confess her sins, her days are few." 
 
 But Mem'ry did within her boasting breast 
 
 Recall a day of England's pluck the test ; 
 
 She knew that on the field of Waterloo, 
 
 France to her cost the might of Britain knew, 
 
 And fearing lest, if she should try her claim. 
 
 The British tar would make her fare the same, 
 
 S Bob Acres, in Shenclau's celebrated piny of " The Rivals."
 
 AMERICA, A SATIRE. 51 
 
 Felt all her valour through her thumbs expire, 
 And ne'er did England feel her threaten'd ire. 
 
 Britannia ! through thy peaceful, blest domains, 
 The tide of Freedom ever-flowing reigns ; 
 There Justice beams the majesty of day. 
 And Mercy's moonbeam sheds its purer ray ; 
 Yes ! there Religion elevates the mind. 
 And all her springs by Knowledge are refin'd, 
 And whilst we kingdoms view to ruin hurl'd. 
 Thy throne is fix'd, the wonder of the world. 
 But oft we see a worthy mother rear 
 A son whom manhood draws in shame's career, 
 And thus hath England rear'd a scornful child, 
 Who oft his mother's goodness has revil'd.
 
 52 AMERICA, A SATIRE. 
 
 Then learn the precept which her virtues teach, 
 Nor, Yankee, hate the good thou canst not reach, 
 Spurn not her form that gave thee to the light, 
 And nurs'd thee on her lap, her fond delight, 
 Copy that justice which a world admires, 
 And whose deserv'd eulogium never tires.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.
 
 VALEDICTORY STANZAS TO W. C. MACREADY 
 
 ON HIS LAST APPEAEANCE ON THE BKITISH 
 STAGE. 
 
 Sun of the drama ! ere thy parting ray 
 Beam its last smile of intellectual day, 
 Ere from the raptur'd sight thy presence fade, 
 By me shall be thy warmest tribute paid. 
 
 Mirror of Shakspeare ! where the gazer views 
 The master-mind whose spell each thought subdues. 
 And whose bright splendour lights the hidden maze, 
 Where works the spring that mental life conveys, 
 Thee would I view again, once more to see 
 His wisdom and his genius shine in thee.
 
 56 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Who that has heard in thee a Hamlet speak, 
 When he with vengeance would a murd'rer seek, 
 And through the cunning scheming of a play, 
 He mark'd the villain safely dragg'd to day, 
 Who that has seen thy hitter hatred there, 
 Hid from his sight its vengeance doomed to hear. 
 Who that has seen the spirit-stirring sight. 
 But feels the spell of intellectual might ? 
 
 Who that has heard in thee Othello mourn. 
 With grief unnerv'd, and jealous anguish torn. 
 And seen those tender bursts to nature true. 
 Which e'en his bosom harb'ring vengeance knew. 
 When o'er the sleeping Desdemona's form, 
 He felt it still with pure affection warm ; 
 Who that has seen but feels how tragic art 
 Unbinds the liner feelings of the heart ?
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 57 
 
 But most as Richelieu I tliy form admire, 
 Still the proud statesman, though the faded sire ! 
 There do we view the struggling might of mind 
 Triumphant spurn the bonds that strive to bind ; 
 The pure, eternal spirit's deathless flame. 
 Light the decay of this exhausted frame ! 
 And, 'mid that tott'ring wreck, we witness still 
 The proud, commanding majesty of will ! 
 
 In thee we view the well-adapted mien 
 Bend to the purpose of each changing scene. 
 And every art that language can display 
 Through the mute graces of thy gesture play. 
 Forth with the tones of thy harmonious speech 
 The tide of Music gently flows to each, 
 And these combin'd in one majestic whole 
 Show the bright fervour of a Kemble's soul !
 
 58 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Macready ! when thy tragic reign is past, 
 Shall Shakspeare's grandeur fade away at last ? 
 Say, will no master-mind like thine delay 
 The drama hast'ning to a dull decay ? 
 Nor wake within the mem'ry of the breast 
 Each glorious day with Kean and Kemble blest ? 
 Then will each thought that admiration lends 
 More brightly tinge thy mem'ry 'mid thy friends, 
 And oft'ner shall the musing fancy dwell 
 On all the wonders of thy tragic spell.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 59 
 
 TO THE RHINE. 
 
 O NOBLEST of rivers, wliom now I survey, 
 Majestic, pursuing thy journey along ! 
 
 The splendour of Nature environs thy way, 
 Her sun and her breeze to thy waters belong. 
 
 Thou joy'st to encounter the fierce torrent's force. 
 And Heav'n's purest image is seen in thy glass ; 
 
 The highway of nations is laid in thy course, 
 And kings in thy steps have delighted to pass.
 
 60 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 ODE TO POETRY. 
 
 LOVELIEST from among tlie Nine, 
 Whose features every grace combine, 
 Come from thy grand Parnassian height. 
 With love's own pensive beauty bright, 
 Or come in grandeur, clad with state, 
 Enthron'd majestic 'mid the great. 
 And with thy tragic charms inspire 
 Some glimm'ring of poetic fire. 
 
 Let thine awak'ning aid reveal 
 The chords that Nature's fingers feel, 
 And let its potent power impart 
 A Shakspeare's knowledge of the heart ;
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 61 
 
 Or let each master-passion speak, 
 When words less eloquent are weak, 
 With all that vigour where we find 
 A Byron's majesty of mind. 
 Within the bosom wake that pride 
 Which glow'd in rustic Burns beside. 
 The pride of honesty and worth, 
 The dignifier of lowly birth. ; 
 O let the warblings of thy lyre 
 With Nature's love my mind inspire, 
 That I with Cowper's gaze may view 
 The form whose charm is ever new, 
 And in retirement's placid peace, 
 From worldly care may find release. 
 Let thy melodious voice rehearse 
 A Rogers' sweet and polisli'd verse,
 
 63 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Or let a Campbell's livelier strain 
 O'er the delighted fancy reign ; 
 May pictures of domestic life, 
 Remov'd from tumult and from strife, 
 Describ'd as in his graceful song. 
 To my inspired verse belong. 
 May scenes of Pleasure's fairest bower 
 Delight my meditation's hour, 
 And love, a Moore's enraptur'd theme. 
 Inspire my most poetic dream. 
 Assist me, Muse, to mount the height 
 Where stern Parnassus meets the sight. 
 And teach my nobler pride to fly 
 To Glory's temple in the sky.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 63 
 
 SONNET. 
 
 TO THE LOWER LAKE OF KILLAHNEY, WRITTEN ON THE 
 SPOT. 
 
 Yes, peace is mirror'd in thy spotless wave, 
 
 Delightful one ! enshrin'd in tranquil rest j 
 surely Nature thee thy being gave. 
 
 That thou might'st be on earth Heav'n's image best ! 
 Killarney ! blooms Hibernia's purest green 
 
 Around thee, sweetest spot of all the West, 
 And thy child, Echo, tenderly is seen 
 
 To cling with infant rapture to thy breast. 
 Worn with the ceaseless tumult of this life. 
 
 Alone with thee I solitude would find. 
 That refuge from Contention's bitter strife. 
 
 To which Philosophy invites the mind. 
 O here may Life's departing vigour fade. 
 In this sequester'd spot my bones be laid.
 
 64 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 SONNET. 
 
 WBITTEN AT ABBOTSFORD. 
 
 Spot where the Bard of Scotia's grandeur dwelt, 
 
 And tun'd to rapture's strain his potent lyre. 
 Home where his soul that inspiration felt, 
 
 That bid a list'ning world its theme admire, 
 At every step what visions rise around 
 
 Of Legend's Master and Romance's Sire ! 
 Forsooth, the picture of thy classic ground 
 
 Can ne'er the vision of the fancy tire ! 
 Methinks, beneath yon sweetly-soothing shade, 
 
 Whose verdant beauty decks the gentle stream. 
 At evening's hour he felt his spirit sway'd 
 
 By musing Sorrow's melancholy dream, 
 And saw with Fancy's ken young Edgar's bride, 
 
 Whom and her lover death could not divide.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 65 
 
 LINES WEITTEN ON REVISITING ALLONBY 
 
 SUGGESTED BY A LADY. 
 
 Sweet spot ! whose pastimes charm'dmy childhood's hour 
 When life was new, and fresh its buoyant power ! 
 Dear, oft-remember'd home of early years, 
 Whose lovely image Mem'ry still endears ; 
 Belov'd abode of innocence and health, 
 More sweet to me than all the pride of wealth, 
 With joy I tread thine oft-accustom'd shore. 
 Again I view each walk oft-lov'd before. 
 
 Blest spot ! what freshness animates thy breeze. 
 
 As now it fans us from thy deep blue seas ! 
 
 What health-inspiring freedom fills thine air ! 
 
 What soothing dreams thy murm'ring billows bear ! 
 I
 
 GQ MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 And as we walk thy long-extended sand, 
 What thoughts are rais'd by Mem'ry's magic wand ! 
 Here we were wont to gambol with the wave, 
 And pluck each weed its ebbing waters gave ; 
 Yes ! here its winding length could joy inspire, 
 As with the spade we thought to bid the tide retire. 
 Or o'er its smooth expanse were pleas'd to roam. 
 To find each shelly child of Ocean's foam. 
 
 As o'er Crookhurst's green path we bend our way. 
 What fond illusions o'er the vision stray ! 
 Here we were wont, in childhood's happy hour, 
 To fondly pluck the sweetly-scented flower. 
 To weave the rush the neighb'ring stream could yield, 
 And chase the gaudy fly from field to field ; 
 Yon murm'ring mill, too, claim'd our earliest joy — 
 That pure delight that leaves the least alloy !
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 67 
 
 Here we were pleas'd, at Evening's peaceful hour, 
 To seek the soothing charm of Legend's power, 
 Here fond each fairy tale we lov'd to hear, 
 And list'ning felt a strangely pleasing fear, 
 As ghosts or giants claim'd the awe-struck ear. 
 Or robber-stories, fraught with dread romance, 
 Bath'd the rapt senses in Elysian trance. 
 
 Ah ! youthful joys, ye source of fond delight, 
 When Life's blest morning dawn'd in splendour bright, 
 Ye peaceful sports, to artless nature true, 
 How musing Mem'ry loves to picture you ! 
 Would that this mind matur'd could now return 
 To that sweet age of guileless unconcern ! 
 And that this peaceful spot could now restore 
 Those simple pleasures felt in youth before !
 
 "68 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 But life's stern cares are harbour'd in this breast, 
 And blighted is each flower that promis'd best. 
 True ! Wisdom's voice has not appeal'd in vain, 
 And Vice has left behind no dark'ning stain ; 
 But now those pure delights can charm no more. 
 Where manhood's grave pursuits are laid in store. 
 And where each anxious wish the world awakes. 
 The artless joys of boyhood soon forsakes.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 09 
 
 VERSES 
 
 MEANT TO BE INSCEIBED ON THE MONUMENT OF CAMPBELL, 
 IN WESTMINSTEE ABBEY. 
 
 Here, where the gothic aisle inspires around 
 Its stern cathedral gloom, and grandeur sheds. 
 
 Approach with awe this consecrated ground, 
 For here the dust a wreck of genius weds. 
 
 At thy blest name the grateful mem'ry burns. 
 Departed Campbell ! Freedom's fondest child ! 
 
 And the sad thought of Poland's wrong returns. 
 But Hope's bright radiance cheers the darkness wild. 
 
 Sweet Bard ! thy gentle strain our fancy charm'd 
 "With loveliest pictures of domestic life ; 
 
 Thy martial strain the kindling bosom warm'd 
 With rising ardour for heroic strife.
 
 70 MISCELLAl^EOUS POEMS. 
 
 Still shall the slave resound thy deathless name, 
 When he with rapture flings his chain away, 
 
 And Liberty shall lift aloft thy fame, 
 Whene'er Oppression and Misrule decay. 
 
 But when the song of Hope the fates fulfil, 
 
 And Freedom draws her sword, long left to rust. 
 
 And Poland lifts, with honour glorious still, 
 Her lowly head majestic from the dust ! 
 
 Then shall thy mem'ry's most effulgent beam 
 With splendour burn in each heroic breast ! 
 
 And then shall Glory more transcendant seem 
 Ting'd by the lustre of thine image blest ! 
 
 Farewell ! but whilst the heart a rapture feels, 
 When Evening gives domestic pleasure scope. 
 
 Still shall we find that that sweet hour reveals 
 Some thought of thee, immortal Bard of Hope !
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 71 
 
 TO THE OCEAN. 
 
 SUGGESTED BY A LADY. 
 
 Majestic Ocean ! liow I greet tliy view, 
 As one who finds a dear and long-lost friend ; 
 
 Thy glorious vision now I feel renew 
 The thoughts that on immensity attend, 
 And this frail being with the endless blend ! 
 
 Thou shadow of the Everlasting's frame, 
 Wliat feelings of the Godhead thou dost lend, 
 
 Through countless ages the majestic same. 
 
 The puny pride of man thou lovest still to tame ! 
 
 The wreath of Freedom compasses thy brow, 
 Her spirit stirs in thy enliv'ning breeze,
 
 7£ MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Whose health-restoring freshness breathing now, 
 Gives life to languor, and to labour ease. 
 Dull were the heart that owns no power to please, 
 
 Nor rapture finds in thy enliv'ning charm ; 
 But I, a cherish'd nursling of thy seas. 
 
 Cling to thy breast, nor feel a vain alarm, 
 
 From mischief shielded by a mothers tender arm. 
 
 Majestic deep ! still shall thy surges roll 
 
 Wlien this poor frame is mould'ring in the grave ! 
 
 Still kingdoms' pomp shall feel the proud controul, 
 And realms the changeless empire of thy wave, 
 Earth's mightiest potentate thy crouching slave ! 
 
 Still shalt thou flow till Time shall be no more, 
 Unchang'd as Him who thee existence gave, 
 
 Shalt flow the greatness of his name to teach, 
 
 And o'er the wreck of realms his majesty to preach.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 73 
 
 LINES WRITTEN ON A THUNDER-STOEM. 
 
 Would you know Nature in her awful form, 
 Go, mark the grandeur of the thunder-storm ! 
 Mark the dread silence all around that reigns. 
 And mark the gloom that stretches o'er the plains ! 
 Here do we feel, as vivid lightnings fly, 
 The dread, majestic hand of Deity, 
 And, as the thunder rolls, that voice we hear 
 Whose awful music fills the soul with fear ! 
 
 2C
 
 74 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 WEITTEN ON A CHESS-TABLE, 
 
 MADE FROM A PIECE OF OAK TAKEN OUT OF QUEEN MAKY'S 
 TOWER, IN CARLISLE CASTLE. 
 
 Remembrancer of Mary's injur'd name, 
 
 That saw'st her form immur'd in Carlisle's tower, 
 Remaining pledge of their eternal shame, 
 
 Who marr'd the virgin beauty of the flower ! 
 
 Companion of her solitary hour, 
 Say, did no friend the bitter anguish cheer 
 
 Of her enslav'd by dire Oppression's power, 
 Dry the sad fount of her lamenting tear, 
 And breathe each welcome note of comfort in her ear ? 
 
 Yes ! thou didst hear each sorrow-breathing sigh 
 That rent the breast of that much-injur'd Queen,
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 75 
 
 When Mem'ry did in bright array supply 
 
 The thought of joy that in her youth had been ; 
 But when the moonbeam beautified the scene, 
 
 And Criffel show'd in all his mountain height. 
 Did she in fancy stem the wave between. 
 
 Till Hope's bright vision vanish'd from her sight. 
 
 And then return to grief, and thraldom's cruel might ? 
 
 Pledge of the past ! thy form has now become 
 
 A mimic field, on which may warriors meet. 
 And, in abstraction intellectual, some 
 
 Forget thy strange biography to greet ; 
 
 But when the flight of Time shall years repeat. 
 And Earth has claim'd again her long-lost child. 
 
 Say, shall again some antiquarian treat 
 Of thy then curious form, and legend wild. 
 Of stately halls o'er thee in massive grandeur pil'd ?
 
 76 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 VEESES. 
 
 Tir'd of the clamour of contentious strife. 
 
 Worn with the labour of a public life, 
 
 Within the town's oppressive vapours pent, 
 
 O for a purer, calmer element ! 
 
 O for that spot where Labour may repose, 
 
 'Mid scenes where Spring's reviving brightness glow» ; 
 
 Yes ! where the pure and health-restoring breeze 
 
 Gives life and freedom to the pulse of ease, 
 
 Where crystal streams diversify the scene, 
 
 And tinge with silver hue the forest green, 
 
 Where fragrant freshness scents the cooling shade, 
 
 And Friendship's frankness animates the glade.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 77 
 
 SONNET. 
 
 TO THE FIRESIDE. 
 
 There is a spot I love to linger near, 
 
 When in tlieir gloom the storms of Winter rise, 
 When the chill blast proclaims the falling year, 
 
 And o'er the midnight heath the tempest sighs ; 
 Yes ! I do love thy glow, Domestic Hearth, 
 
 Which can each sweet and social scene endear, 
 Can give fresh vigour to the tone of mirth, 
 
 And lend Affection's voice the power to cheer ; 
 For, still the purer feelings find in thee 
 
 The central spot of all that empire sweet. 
 Where the dear charms that Exile longs to see 
 
 With home's own freedom round that centre meet. 
 And where the heart-felt happiness of peace 
 Has caus'd the pangs of anxious care to cease.
 
 78 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 AN EMIGRANTS SOLILOQUY. 
 
 O'er the wide precincts of the world I've been, 
 
 O'er many a rugged spot and smiling scene ; 
 
 Oft have I roam'd where Nature meets the view 
 
 Clad in the wildness of the wintry hue. 
 
 Where mountains, crown'd with everlasting snow, 
 
 Frown o'er a dreary wilderness below, 
 
 O'er where more pleasing prospects meet the eye, 
 
 And Summer's splendour tints the western sky, 
 
 Where purest crystal ripples in the stream. 
 
 And all are there to raise the poet's theme. 
 
 Oft on such scenes has Admiration gaz'd. 
 
 With beauty pleas'd, at majesty amaz'd ; 
 
 But still my visions centred far away. 
 
 To distant scenes Remembrance lov'd to stray,
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 79 
 
 And Fancy linger'd o'er that cherish'd spot 
 
 Where Exiles' weary sorrows are forgot. 
 
 O blest retreat, to youth and childhood dear, 
 
 Spot that has claim'd the warmth of Sorrow's tear, 
 
 Home where my sweetest, happiest hours were spent. 
 
 And where fond Transport made the heart content, 
 
 Now does awak'ning Mem'ry fondly burn 
 
 To all those heart-felt pleasures to retiirn ; 
 
 Yes ! this unhappy spirit, worn with care. 
 
 Sighs for the freshness of thy native air ! 
 
 may I breathe the freedom of that joy 
 
 Which home alone inspires, and feel once more a boy ! 
 
 And may I linger out this life's decline 
 
 Amid those fairy scenes and walks of thine.
 
 80 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 LINES 
 
 SUPPOSED TO BE WKITTEN BY A WE.IIIIED MAN OF FASHION. 
 
 Sweet sleep ! recaller of the pleasing past, 
 Of joys in this sad heart now rarely known, 
 I love thy soothing presence, 'tis to me 
 The sweet forgetfulness of present woe, 
 The spring whence fond Imagination draws 
 A balm and solace for the aching heart ; 
 For thou recall'st those hours of social bliss. 
 That cast the sunny beam of cheerfulness 
 O'er the expanse of Youth's unclouded sky : 
 Ah ! then the fresh and buoyant spirits knew 
 Not Care's corroding touch, but pastimes bade 
 The bosom echo to the tone of joy ; 
 Truth and affection in the visage bcam'd, 
 And show'd how pure the spirit was within,
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 81 
 
 Ere Avarice its virgin loveliness 
 
 Had blighted, or e'er Vice had stay'd tlie springs 
 
 Of unsophisticated innocence ; 
 
 Health ting'd the cheek with ruby, and the brow 
 
 Shone with its pristine brightness, ere the heart 
 
 Was school'd in dissipation's wantonness ; 
 
 All beam'd with hope and happiness ; no cloud 
 
 Spread its portending darkness o'er the bright 
 
 And sweetly-smiling future. But the scene, 
 
 Alas ! how chang'd ! the pleasing mirthfulness 
 
 Of boyhood is departed, and the friends 
 
 I lov'd in youth, companions of each sport, 
 
 Are mould'ring in the cold and silent tomb ! 
 
 Yes ! I have felt the stern realities 
 
 And bitter cares that Life has dealt to all, 
 
 And Vice the bloom of Innocence and Health 
 
 Has blighted with the winter of her breath.
 
 82 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Yes ! that elastic buoyancy of soul, 
 
 The spring of youthful gaiety, 
 
 And happiness, companion of the heart 
 
 Untaught in guile, are now for ever fled ! 
 
 O that the cheering glow of boyhood would 
 
 Again invigorate this wasted frame. 
 
 And that I felt the pure, spontaneous play 
 
 Of sportive mirthfulness, no need would be 
 
 For Fashion then to gloss with smiles the care 
 
 And wretchedness that lurks within the breast. 
 
 But to lament what ne'er can be recall'd 
 
 Is vain, and Time rolls onward in his course. 
 
 While o'er the guilty past we moralize ; 
 
 Then let me consecrate to Virtue's cause 
 
 The strength and vigour of each future aim. 
 
 And yet may peace and hcart-fclt happiness 
 
 Gild the sweet close of Life's departing day.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 83 
 
 TO A WILD FLOWER IN AUTUMN. 
 
 Flower ! thou hast felt the gladd'ning ray 
 
 Of the invigorating Spring, 
 Which to manhood's noontide day 
 
 The freshness of thy youth did bring, 
 And Summer's powerful beam has shed 
 Its sunny splendours o'er thine head. 
 
 A gentler sun, a milder ray. 
 
 Now dedicates thy fragrant breath 
 
 To that decline, that sweet decay, 
 The herald of approaching death ! 
 
 Yes ! thou wert born 'mid Spring to bloom. 
 
 Then sink in Autumn to the tomb !
 
 84< MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 The joys of youth on me have smil'd, 
 Like thee, I've known a brighter hour, 
 
 Love's ardour has my thoughts beguil'd. 
 But now I feel no more its power, 
 
 No longer passion fires this breast. 
 
 Which seeks the soothing shades of rest. 
 
 And now, amid this life's decline, 
 I feel a transport more serene, 
 
 In Friendship's calm and pure sunshine. 
 Than e'er in brighter days hath been, 
 
 A mirth that cheers without alloy, 
 
 A tranquil but a heart-felt joy ! 
 
 I now, amid life's evening, choose 
 That rural and that calm retreat.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 85 
 
 Where pensive Mem'ry still may muse 
 O'er all that was to boyhood sweet. 
 Where all affection lov'd may seem 
 Restor'd in Fancy's pleasing dream. 
 
 Not long thy fragrance, flower ! shall shed 
 Its sweetness o'er September's wind. 
 
 Soon shall this wearied spirit wed 
 The home of the immortal mind ; 
 
 Like thee I've bloom'd, like thine my breath 
 
 Shall fade, my sun shall set in death.
 
 86 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 A WINTER SOLILOQUY. 
 
 And can the brightness of the landscape fade ? 
 The smile of Summer cease to deck the glade ? 
 Can the sweet rosebud lose its wonted bloom, 
 Like beauty when it finds an early tomb ? 
 Is this the tranquil, the delightful scene. 
 That bloom'd in all the summer life of green ? 
 How chang'd, indeed, my wonted path appears, 
 Where now no fragrant gale of freshness cheers, 
 "Where slumb'ring Nature darkly meets the view. 
 Bright with no sunny smile, no living hue. 
 But where the blast that sweeps the lonely plain. 
 Proclaims the cheerless spread of "Winter's reign ! 
 And such is life ! In childhood's day it seems 
 The fairest scene of Hope's enchanting dreams,
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 87 
 
 While to tlie artless mind no anxious fears 
 Disturb the peaceful joys of future years. 
 And pure the brightest of affection shines 
 O'er all the varied pleasures Hope combines ; 
 The tender fondness of a mother's love 
 Seems onward with the lapse of time to move, 
 The pure delight that evening's joys inspire, 
 The cheering brightness of the wintry fire, 
 The sportive mirth that knows not envy's guile. 
 And the fond sweetness of a father's smile. 
 The social charms that bid us not to roam, 
 And all the heart-felt happiness of home : 
 These, these the youthful fancy loves to view 
 As springs of bliss the future shall renew, 
 A cheering prelude to those scenes of joy, 
 Where Fear and Sorrow never bring alloy.
 
 88 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 And are they such ? Go, ask the silent grave ! 
 There lie the dearest forms that Heav'n e'er gave. 
 There in its gloomy precincts now decay 
 Those youthful hearts that once were fondly gay. 
 Yes ! I have felt Affection's gentle mirth 
 Breathe life and sweetness round the social hearth, 
 Have known the brightest hopes that make life dear, 
 But hopes o'er which Rememhrance drops a tear ! 
 Hopes that have felt the blasting hand of Fate, 
 And left their once glad mansion desolate ! 
 And now I feel this wintry scene impart 
 A tone congenial to my aching heart ; 
 Yes ! the wild blast that sweeps the lonely heath, 
 Mcthinks, laments the chilling hand of Death, 
 And mourns the joys of childhood pass'd away. 
 That hail'd the cloudless morn of life's bright day.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 89 
 
 But say, sad Muse, though 'mid this transient scene, 
 Remembrance sighs o'er joys that once have been, 
 Though all we love must hear that mournful knell. 
 That watch-word of Despair and Death, "Farewell !" 
 And though the dreary coldness of the tomb 
 O'er life and beauty spreads its sullen gloom, 
 Yet can no dream of sweetness cheer the sight 
 "With the fond rapture of foretold delight ? 
 Can Hope afford no glimpse of brighter day, 
 To cheer the weary pilgrim on his way ? 
 Yes ! let her hand the sacred word unfold. 
 And all the Christian's future bliss be told ; 
 That though this mortal frame to dust return. 
 The lamp of life shall never cease to burn, 
 But brightly shine when worlds shall be no more. 
 And Time his restless course has travell'd o'er. 
 
 M
 
 90 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Yes ! though the righteous find no place of rest 
 'Mid earthly scenes, in Heav'n he shall be blest, 
 And though the charms of friendship shall decay. 
 And home's enliv'ning joys shall pass away, 
 Yet still, beyond the grave, his eye shall meet 
 Those oft-remember'd friends he lov'd to greet ; 
 There shall the forms that meet his raptur'd view. 
 The more than joy of early life renew. 
 And Death's destroying arm no more shall part 
 The friends, the kindred sacred to his heart.
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 91 
 
 LINES 
 
 WRITTEN ON VISITING HOLYROOD. 
 
 The mind recurs to Scotia's lovely Queen, 
 
 Whose best and brightest hours were here beguil'd ; 
 The morning of her reign here dawn'd serene. 
 
 And here the sunshine of her fortune smil'd. 
 Ah ! in those hours but little did she deem 
 
 How soon her joyous morn would be o'ercast ! 
 How soon would Pleasure's transitory dream 
 
 Like Beauty fade, too lovely for to last ! 
 She, when a captive in the lonely tower. 
 
 Far from the splendour of Edina's view. 
 Would oft the fond remembrance of each hour. 
 
 Within these walls beguil'd, in grief renew !
 
 92 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 Metliinks when Fortune frown'd upon her lot, 
 
 Deceiving Hope her thoughts would often cheer 
 With visions of this fondly cherish'd spot, 
 
 Brought by the welcome hand of Freedom near ! 
 But ah ! how stern was Destiny's decree 
 
 Let Sorrow's mournful eloquence declare. 
 For, while the gen'rous heart can pity, she 
 
 The pensive sadness of its grief will share.
 
 CRITICAL NOTICES OF THE FIRST EDITION. 
 
 "A volume of very considerable promise." — Dublin Univeesitv 
 Magazine. 
 
 " ' The Pleasures of Music' is a creditable production of the school 
 of Campbell and Rogers. The execution of the whole is creditable, 
 at times something more." — Spectator. 
 
 "There is great beauty in the poem on the influence of music. 
 The illustrations are well selected, and clothed with poetic taste." — 
 Morning Herald. 
 
 " ' The Pleasures of Music and other Poems' show a study of Pope 
 and his school in their smoothness of versification. Those readers 
 who find a charm, both for the ear and the mind, in the more measured 
 style of English verse, will meet with great gratification from their 
 perusal." — Harriet Martineau. 
 
 *' The style is very graceful throughout, and occasionally brilliant. 
 The talents of the wi-iter are, beyond all question, of a very high order, 
 and many passages of his poems exceedingly beautiful." — Dk. Anstek 
 C Translator of Faust J. 
 
 " Respectable throughout, with many lines of great power and 
 beauty."— Carlisle Patriot. 
 
 " These poems are the production of one who, in our opinion, is 
 likely to become a poet of great excellence." — York Herald. 
 
 " ' The Pleasures of Music' is an exceedingly beautiful and original 
 poem, replete with polished elegance and classic refinement." — Liver- 
 pool Mail. 
 
 " The subject is very gracefully handled throughout." — Carlisle 
 Journal. 
 
 "'The Pleasures of Music' affords sufficient evidence of the 
 possession, on the part of its author, of a degree of talent he does 
 well to cultivate."— Englishwoman's Magazine.
 
 This book is DUE on the last 
 date stamped below 
 
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