BERT E. COWAN 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 , r.v 
 
 C. P. HUNTINGTON 
 
 d U N . 
 
 Accession No. W 0^0^- Class N 
 
METRICAL PASTIMES 
 
FOUNTAIN ROCK. 
 
FOUNTAIN ROCK, 
 
 AMY WIEB, 
 
 OTHER METRICAL PASTIMES 
 
 oar 
 
 GEORGE HAY RIXGGOLD, 
 
 TJ. S. A. 
 
 "What shadows we are, what shadows we pursue! 11 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 "W. A.. TO^VNSEN 
 
 1860. 
 
Entered, according to the Act of Congress, in the year I860, by 
 
 GEOEGE HAY EIXGGOLD, 
 
 In the Clerk s Office of the District Court of the United States for the 
 Southern District of New York. 
 
 C. A. ALTOBD, 6TEBEOTTFEB AND PRINTER, 15 VANDEWATEJl STREET, If. T. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 r PACK 
 
 FOUNTAIN ROCK, 13 
 
 ii. 
 
 AMY WIER, .... .31 
 
 in. 
 MISCELLANEOUS, ... .43 
 
 ELUISE, .... 45 
 
 A SERENADE, ...... 47 
 
 GERALDINE, ...... 
 
 DARKNESS, .... .52 
 
 SUMMER LEAVES, ... 54 
 
 To A TRAVELLER, ... .55 
 
 SAN PABLO, ... 56 
 
 LINES AT SEA, ..... 60 
 
 AGNES, .... 62 
 
 MISERERE, ...... 64 
 
 NANNIE DARLING, .... 67 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 OH ! WOULD I WERE WITH TlIEE FOREVER, 70 
 
 THE Two VIOLETS, .... 72 
 
 OH ! WOULD I WERE FREE, . . .78 
 
 LIFE, .. . . . . . . 81 
 
 THE DOG AND THE CROCODILE, . . 86 
 
 AN EVENING SKETCH, . . . , 87 
 
 ROSALINDA, . 1 . . . . . 90 
 
 NOW WHEN THE SlIADES, ETC., . . 93 
 
 LOST AT SEA, , . . . . . . 94 
 
 DEATH, . .. *"..,. . . . 97 
 
 UNSELFISH LOVE, i . . . .100 
 
 DOWN BY SILENT WATERS, *. . . 102 
 
 FORTUNE S FAVORITE, I . . . 105 
 
 LONGINGS, . . . . . . 108 
 
 A WINTER ELEGY, . . . . . . Ill 
 
 CONFIDENCE, . *. : . . . 114 
 
 MARGARET, *. .* i . . . 117 
 
 THE BRIDAL MORN, V . . . 121 
 
 To Miss K. M., ON HER WEDDING DAY, . 129 
 
 CAST DOWN, .". V . ; v 131 
 
 THE YELLOW FEVER, * . . . 133 
 
 HOPE AND DESPAIR, . . . . 130 
 
CONTENTS. 7 
 
 PAGE 
 
 AFTER AN ILLNESS, . . . . .141 
 MEMORY OF CHILDHOOD, . . . 143 
 
 THE DYING GIRL TO HER LOVER, . .146 
 MORNING, . . . . . . 147 
 
 NIGHT, 151 
 
 SPIRIT OF THE NIGHT WIND, . . 156 
 
 To Miss II. McT., 161 
 
 A NIGHT AT SEA, . . . . 163 
 
 THE Two WORLDS, . . . .165 
 
 CONSTANCY, . . . . . . 168 
 
 RHYMES ABOUT THE CABLE, . . . 171 
 FOR ALL BUT ME, . . . . 174 
 
 LITTLE TOMMY, . . . . .176 
 
 THOUGHTS OF HEAVEN, . . . 178 
 
 SUNDAY EVENING, . . 180 
 
 EVENING HYMN, . . . . . 183 
 
 AUBURN, MY HOME, . . . .185 
 
 DESOLATION, . . . . . 186 
 
 HOPE, 188 
 
 EVA, 189 
 
 IV. 
 
 GRANDMAMMA S CHRISTMAS TALE, . 191 
 
8 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 V. 
 
 NEVERMORE, . . . . . . 209 
 
 MY MARY, -. . ... . . 211 
 
 FAREWELL, . ^ % * p . 212 
 
 To MARY, WITH A DOUBLE WILD JASMINE, 214 
 
 LINES TO THE WILD JASMINE, . *. 21 G 
 THE STEAMBOAT, ... . . .218 
 
 SONG WHEN EARLY BEAMS, . . . 221 
 
 SONG Tis PLEASANT, ETC., -. ... . 222 
 
 SONG WHEN THE BRIGHT GAUDY BEAMS, 223 
 
 THE NOISY OLD MILL, . . . . 225 
 
 SONG, . , , . , . . / 228 
 Tis ABSENCE PROVES, ... . .230 
 
 SONG THOU ART NOT HERE, . . 232 
 
 ABSENCE, . . . . . 233 
 
 THE FIRST FIRE OP AUTUMN, . . 234 
 
 IMPROMPTU, .. ... " .. . 235 
 
 RETURN HOME, , , . . ; f . 237 
 
 I AM NOT OLD, , ; % v .. . 239 
 
I. 
 FOUNTAIN ROCK. 
 

 FOUNTAIN ROCK. 
 
 INVOCATION TO MEMORY. 
 
 "ARTIST rare! whose pencil brings 
 To view the forms of perished things ; 
 Whose faithful, yet whose sadd ning touch, 
 Of the sweet past portrays so much ; 
 And with the tints thy pallet bears 
 Those sombre lines of vanished years 
 While warm the bright ning picture glows, 
 O er all a pensive shadow throws : 
 Thee I invoke ! whose wondrous art 
 So captivates the wounded heart, 
 That in thy mirror, for each grief, 
 Reflected lies some sweet relief, 
 A little while the soul to bless, 
 And cheat it of its bitterness. 
 
14 FOUNTAIN ROCK. 
 
 Thy power alone can fill my gaze 
 With visions of departed days; 
 Alone can thy unrivaled skill 
 With long-lost joys the canvas fill. 
 Thy task begin then, graphic maid, 
 With spirit let the sketch be made; 
 Shades of vanished times renew, 
 Paint the picture strong and true ; 
 And while before my eager eye 
 The panorama passes by, 
 And each sweet scene, with softened ray, 
 One moment glows, then glides away. 
 Pause whene er that hallowed place, 
 My childhood s happy home, I trace. 
 And grant, O generous Nymph, one boon- 
 Let me detain the bright cartoon, 
 Whose faithful outline fills my brain 
 With thee, old Fountain Rock, again. 
 And on each feature let me dwell, 
 Let me scan each object well, 
 Each op ning flower, each tender leaf, 
 With beauty tinted bright, but brief. 
 Then let some glow of generous fire 
 With truth and force my song inspire, 
 
FOUNTAIN ROCK. 15 
 
 And in gay measures flowing fast, 
 Call up the spirit of the past." 
 
 Dearest of all the spots of earth, 
 That sweetly smiled upon my birth, 
 Where first the vital air I drew, 
 Invigorate with wholesome dew, 
 Where calmly slept the nnfathomed sea 
 Of my unconscious infancy, 
 And mid bright birds and budding flowers, 
 Flew childhood s sweet and rosy hours; 
 Methinks e en now, in summer bloom, 
 I see thee in the distance loom, 
 As winding down the shady road, 
 I reach the gate beside the wood. 
 Here let me yield to sweet delay, 
 Nor in my haste be drawn away, 
 Till every tree, or stump, or stone, 
 Rises, familiar, one by one. 
 [n each some pleasing memory lives, 
 Tli at silently its welcome gives, 
 Not framed in studied phrase of art, 
 But speaking sweetly to the heart. 
 
16 FOUNTAIN ROCK. 
 
 II. 
 
 At length is neared the grassy brook, 
 "Where oft I ve sat with line and hook, 
 And if a tiny minnow took, 
 With prize so rich I felt more pride, 
 I ween, than half the world beside 
 More pure delight than conquerors, far, 
 With all their laurels won in war. 
 
 in. 
 
 At every step more eager grown, 
 With quickening pace I hurry on, 
 And now I rise the hill at last; 
 The hedge is neared the gate is passed 
 The path with sudden turn displays, 
 Full bursting on my raptured gaze, 
 The Eden of my early days. 
 And oh! with what impetuous gush, 
 Old feelings through my bosom rush ; 
 The same sensations thrill me through, 
 As \vhen a boy they used to do. 
 How well I mind at that sweet time, 
 With youth s bright blossoms in their prime. 
 
FOUNTAIN BOCK. IT 
 
 When absent for a single day, 
 
 I sighed the weary hours away, 
 
 And thought the moment ne er would come, 
 
 To seek once more my own blest home. 
 
 IV. 
 
 !N"ow, as of yore, the peaceful scene 
 Extends in loveliness serene; 
 The white- walled mansion, stretching wide 
 Its airy wings on either side; 
 The slated roof, the dormers grey, 
 Touched by the morning s misty ray ; 
 The stately poplars, lifting high 
 Their mitred heads against the sky; 
 The oval plot, the road around, 
 That served us for our racing ground, 
 Where oft we strove like blooded bays, 
 To reach the goal and win the praise ; 
 Yet, harmless as this sport appears, 
 Tis the dark type of future years 
 First print of passion s hand on life 
 Baptismal mark of after strife ; 
 For at our childhood s very dawn, 
 The seeds of rivalry are sown, 
 2 
 
18 FOUNTAIN KOCK, 
 
 And emulation s germ is nursed 
 
 With fostering care, until, at first 
 
 A puny shrub, it grows to be 
 
 Ambition s deadly Upas tree. 
 
 Alas ! the troubled heart of man 
 
 Throbs on through life as it began; 
 
 "With youth s first flush tis taught to crave, 
 
 Nor finds repose but in the grave. 
 
 v. 
 
 How qniet sleeps the grassy green! 
 Here at the musing hour of e en, 
 When cooling dews begin to fall, 
 Tis sweet, beneath this old gray wall, 
 Where thickly weaves the mantling vine, 
 To mark the twilight s mild decline, 
 As its last ling ring tints decay 
 Before the full moon s mellow ray, 
 That, streaming o er yon Eastern wood, 
 Bathes it in a silvery flood; 
 While in calm ether poised above, 
 The lazy clouds forget to move ; 
 And the soft hour invites the throng 
 Of insects to their evening song; 
 
FOUNTAIN ROCK. 19 
 
 While all around, below, above, 
 
 Breathe such an air of peace and love, 
 
 Enchantment seems with gentle sway, 
 
 To lure the willing soul away. 
 
 But changed with manhood s serious years, 
 
 This holy, quiet scene appears; 
 
 The present hath, with altered mien, 
 
 Thrust its cold shadow in between, 
 
 And saddened down that cheerful tone, 
 
 Till sombrous now as is its own. 
 
 Yet doth the moon, with tender light, 
 
 Smile through the shadows of the night, 
 
 Bringing with her a beauty, too, 
 
 The golden sunlight never knew. 
 
 Tis thus when life s best hours have flown. 
 
 And twilight cold conies creeping on, 
 
 AYe look beyond this ruined waste, 
 
 A gleam seems widening in the east; 
 
 We leave our broken dreams behind, 
 
 In heaven s own light our joys to find. 
 
 VI. 
 
 And here, when noon-day warm and bright, 
 Had heavenward wooed the dews of night, 
 
20 FOUNTAIN ROCK. 
 
 I loved at liide-and-seek to play, 
 Among the tents of new-made hay. 
 Again methinks I liear the sound 
 Of merry laughter pealing round, 
 From yonder troop of romping boys, 
 Companions of my youthful joys. 
 And tis so sweet again to trace 
 The features of each welcome face 
 The sparkling eye the ruddy cheek 
 The lips ne er parted but to speak 
 In young delight s wild, thoughtless glee 
 Of hope, and love, and ecstacy. 
 Play on, O blessed childhood, play! 
 No thorns beset thy flowery way ; 
 All thy joys are born above, 
 And guarded by an angel s love, 
 Till, full matured, they wander thence, 
 To light on truth and innocence ; 
 Ling ring a little season here, 
 Making all things bright appear, 
 But when years to youth are given,. 
 Flying back again to heaven. 
 
FOUNTAIN ROOK. 21 
 
 VII. 
 
 At length I reach, in bright ning mood, 
 The grassy knoll where oft I ve stood, 
 And gaze o er field, and hill, and wood ; 
 Mark the "broad vale, the mountains blue, 
 Distant ranging in the view ; 
 The pleasant fields, the meadows gay 
 With many a rick of fragrant hay; 
 The hawthorn hedge with berries red, 
 The lawn a perfect flower-bed ; 
 The dingle deep around the spring, 
 Where used the russet wren to sins?, 
 
 o" 
 
 And, with the robin and the thrush, 
 
 Made melody in every bush; 
 
 While darting through the flowers was heard 
 
 The green enameled humming-bird. 
 
 Lo ! in the East the morn appears, 
 
 Glist ning, wet with night s fresh tears; 
 
 And playfully a gentle breeze 
 
 Is murmuring through the leafy trees. 
 
 Flowers around of every hue, 
 
 Bend with the weight of morning dew; 
 
 The lark pours forth her carol blithe, 
 
22 FOUNTAIN ROCK. 
 
 Tlie mower sweeps liis dripping scythe, 
 While down yon narrow lane, just seen 
 O er the tall corn that waves between, 
 The heifers to the meadow pass, 
 To feed upon the juicy grass; 
 And quietly on yonder hill 
 Around whose foot a gentle rill, 
 By flowery banks, with easy flow, 
 Goes murmuring to the meads below 
 Browsing there the bleating sheep, 
 In timid crowds together keep, 
 While falls upon the pleased ear, 
 The shepherd s whistle, sweet and clear; 
 With chorus joyous, full, and free, 
 From the feathered minstrelsy. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Leaving this cherished scene behind, 
 Along the straggling path I wind, 
 And soon spreads out the garden neat, 
 Like chaste embroidery, at my feet. 
 Here art and nature strive to bring, 
 Each one, a richer offering; 
 Here bright Pomona s smiles appear, 
 
FOUNTAIN ROCK. 23 
 
 To promise plenty to tlie year ; 
 
 And green-clad growth with noiseless tread, 
 
 Glides easy o er each flowery bed, 
 
 Leads by the hand luxuriance wild, 
 
 Xor cares to check her wayward child ; 
 
 And luscious fruits of every hue, 
 
 The blushing peach, the damson blue, 
 
 The gage, the ripe and juicy pear, 
 
 Low drooping boughs inviting bear. 
 
 And there, too, stands the rude old bower 
 
 The cool retreat in sunny hour ; 
 
 "Where vines, thick woven overhead, 
 
 Throw all within in mystic shade. 
 
 Here, sheltered from the fervid noon, 
 
 That browns the brow of ruddy June, 
 
 With rested cheek I ve often sate, 
 
 And mused upon my doubtful fate ; 
 
 And I have thought twere better far, 
 
 Vv T 
 When passion /aged her frantic war, 
 
 With life still young to sound retreat, 
 To fly her fierce meridian heat, 
 And for a refuge seek to find 
 The bower of the tranquil mind. 
 
24 FOUNTAIN ROCK. 
 
 IX. 
 
 ~Now let me to the fancy yield, 
 And seek the golden harvest field ; 
 Where, reclined in pleasant shade, 
 By a spreading locust made, 
 Wooing the uncertain breeze, 
 That, whispering among the trees, 
 Full freighted comes from green, retreat 
 "With wild herbs perfume, fresh and sweet, 
 As of yore, with eye serene, 
 I contemplate the busy scene 
 The rolling slopes of ripened grain, 
 Like the gently swelling main, 
 On whose edge the sturdy troop, 
 To the rustling treasure stoop ; 
 And hum of distant voices hear, 
 Sweetly droning on the ear; 
 Or the cradles crashing sweep, 
 That in a measured cadence keep, 
 While in rear the rustic train, 
 Tent with yellow shocks the plain . 
 
FOUNTAIN ROCK. 25 
 
 From tliis fair scene, where labor browned, 
 "With plenty s golden wreath is crowned, 
 I half reluctant turn away, 
 Through other cherished haunts to stray. 
 But fierce the noon-tide fervor glows. 
 
 O 
 
 And yon oak-grove with wide spread boughs 
 For me a rural bower has made, 
 And calls me to enjoy its shade. 
 Here scathless from the storms of years, 
 A massy rock its form uprears, 
 Crowned with rank growth of weeds, and grass, 
 And vines, that in a tangled mass 
 Hang o er its rough and frowning face, 
 Down to the cleft that rends its base; 
 From whose dark jaws, with constant gush. 
 Bright silvery streams of water rush, 
 And fill, with sweetly murmuring sound, 
 The leafy nooks that lie around. 
 Wearied, I reach this gelid spring, 
 Upon whose mossy brink, I fling 
 Myself at easy length, or lave 
 My limbs in its refreshing wave. 
 9, 
 
26 FOUNTAIN ROCK. 
 
 Sweet stream! how much to thee I owe! 
 Along thy current s gentle flow, 
 With all of youth s keen zest, I d fain 
 Indulge in childhood s sports again ; 
 Launch pigmy ships upon the tide, 
 Thy tiny waves in state to ride, 
 As sails that sweep the ocean wide. 
 Or light, from rock to rock I d hound, 
 O er gurgling runnels eddying round, 
 Or watch the little fish that swim 
 Around thy mossy margin s rim. 
 
 XI. 
 
 Sweet Fountain Rock! where er I stray, 
 My heart to thee still finds its way, 
 Still in each cherished scene delays, 
 And all my favorite haunts portrays. 
 Child as I was, yet still to me 
 There was a magic witchery 
 In the unfrequented dell, 
 Where holy quiet loves to dwell, 
 In the dark and lonely glen, 
 With Meditation far from men ; 
 Now leaving noisy Mirth behind, 
 
FOUNTAIN ROCK. 27 
 
 O er Autumn s sun-browned hills to wind, 
 
 Aiion with fancy for my guide, 
 
 To thread the streamlet s sedgy side, 
 
 Or hold in yonder sombre w r ood, 
 
 A parlance sweet with solitude. 
 
 XII. 
 
 Dear spot, alas ! for me no more 
 Shall Spring thy vernal bloom restore ; 
 Thy Summer charms shall bud and die, 
 But greet no more my longing eye ; 
 Thy Autumn s bracing breeze shall be 
 Surcharged with health, but not for me; 
 For now thy wide and smiling lands 
 Have passed into a stranger s hands, 
 And years have flown, life s brightest best, 
 Since thy sweet fields my steps have pressed. 
 Yet though no parents kind are there, 
 To raise for me a pious prayer, 
 Or Winter evenings to employ 
 In thinking of their absent boy, 
 Xor kindred hearts impatient burn 
 To hail the wanderer s return; 
 Yet home I must regard thee still, 
 
28 FOUNTAIN ROOK. 
 
 Though strangers now thy portals fill; 
 Though now, within thy saddened hall, 
 Strange voices speak strange footsteps fall ; 
 For there is home where most we find 
 To sooth and satisfy the mind, 
 Whether it in the present lie, 
 Or in the fields of memory. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 When life s short race shall ended be, 
 And naught but dust remains of me, 
 That mouldering dust I d fain have laid 
 In thy green grave-yard s quiet shade. 
 And though no sculptured stone relate, 
 "Here sleep the ashes of the great" 
 Yet flowers as fair will o er me bloom 
 As ever decked a hero s tomb. 
 And to my humble, lowly grave 
 A boast the mighty seldom have 
 Oft when gray evening s dusky wing, 
 Its shadow o er the spot shall fling, 
 Some loyal heart shall come to spend 
 An hour s vigils with his friend. 
 But not the tears of grief alone 
 
FOUNTAIN BOCK. 29 
 
 Shall fall upon the nameless stone ; 
 
 Like dews that weep at summer e en, 
 
 Yet gem with light the lonely green, 
 
 The bitterest drops that spring from woe 
 
 Shall find some sweetness as they flow, 
 
 And hope, with joy, her dose ally, 
 
 Shall glisten in the mourner s eye, 
 
 When angels seem to whisper near, 
 
 That in a better brighter sphere, 
 
 Friends meet once more, though parted here. 
 
II. 
 AMY WIEB. 
 
AMY WIER. 
 
 This is the dear old spot ! 
 
 So little changed, too, with these fleeting years. 
 Life seems a dream a thing forgot, 
 With all its hopes and fears. 
 
 IT. 
 
 My heart as then is stirred, 
 When long ago one summer evening, I 
 
 This leafy stream s low music heard, 
 As it went rippling by. 
 
 m. 
 
 And o er yon fleecy pile, 
 
 As sheds the round moon now her pearly light. 
 Just such a heavenly radiant smile, 
 
 She gave to that sweet night. 
 2* 2 
 
34 AMY WIER. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Thus standing here again, 
 I fall to musing on our childhood s years, 
 A throng of joys for every pain ! 
 Smiles ever chasing tears ! 
 
 v. 
 
 Our childhood s years, I said, 
 For with my own, another image came, 
 That of a little brown-haired maid, 
 Amy, her simple name. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Life like a lake did lie, 
 
 No breath of passion stirred its waters then, 
 A youth of fourteen summers I, 
 She but a child of ten. 
 
 vn. 
 
 But as my Amy grew, 
 
 And passed from youth to thoughtful woman 
 hood, 
 
 Born in my breast a passion new, 
 Rose like an April flood. 
 
AMY WIER. 35 
 
 vm. 
 
 Yet by no word of mine, 
 Or look that might a loving thought make 
 
 known, 
 
 Sought I to let her heart divine 
 The secret of my own. 
 
 IX. 
 
 For if I e er began, 
 
 Honor would check me with a stern reproof; 
 Her father was my guardian, 
 And I, beneath his roof, 
 
 x. 
 
 But love, like light, its track 
 Breaks through the cold clear ice of self-control, 
 Its subtile signals, darting back 
 And forth, from soul to soul. 
 
 XI. 
 
 And thus, whate er might seem, 
 By sense refined each heart the other knew, 
 While silently as in a dream, 
 Love s golden season flew, 
 
36 AMY WIER. 
 
 XII. 
 
 Till by and by, the hour 
 Of parting came, and I was sent away, 
 
 At learning s source to gather store. 
 Life s sterner part to play. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 And thus some seasons fled, 
 When homeward bound I found myself once 
 
 more; 
 
 "While with a mingled hope and dread, 
 My heart was running o er. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 At length the house I neared 
 Moonlight and shadow on each angled wall 
 And sounds of merry music heard, 
 Within the lighted hall. 
 
 xv. 
 
 Some tongues there ll always be, 
 With good or bad intent ill news to bear, 
 
 And such there now were near to me, 
 To whisper in my ear. 
 
AMY WIER. 37 
 
 XVI. 
 
 Another s name, not mine, 
 They told me that my Amy soon would bear, 
 With orange blossoms he d entwine 
 My Amy s nut-brown hair. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 Stunned by the sudden blow, 
 That crushed the fabric hope had reared so high, 
 I would have given the world to know, 
 That moment I could die. 
 
 xviir. 
 
 Twas but a moment though, 
 And then I cast the impious thought from mo; 
 "Teach me, my God," I cried, "to bow 
 My soul to thy decree." 
 
 XIX. 
 
 How wonderful the peace 
 That in an instant sometimes answers prayer, 
 Thus in my heart could not but cease, 
 The promptings of despair. 
 
38 AMY WIER. 
 
 XX. 
 
 Yet throbbed with keenest pain, 
 That cruel wound, time s balm alone could lied, 
 For though my heart might not complain, 
 It could not cease to feel. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 Thus, in more tranquil mind, 
 I sought the brook-side sheltered by this wood, 
 For wounded spirits ever find 
 Solace in solitude. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 And sadly here I sat, 
 
 Though fresh as now the velvet verdure grew, 
 And seemed, all earth to saturate, 
 The breath of evening dew. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 \ 
 
 Ah ! I remember well, 
 
 Death, than that day, could not more cruel be, 
 Whose vesper hour had tolled the knell 
 Of earthly joys for me. 
 
AMY WIER. 39 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 Tims, then, revealed to none, 
 Must lie the secret of my heart s disease, 
 Nor dared I, save when thus alone, 
 To utter words like these : 
 
 XXV. 
 
 "Farewell! dear Amy Wier, 
 Farewell ! forever art thou lost to me 
 
 Lost, though no time can ever tear 
 Thee from my memory. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 " I might have won thy love, 
 This night, perhaps, my bride thou miglit st 
 
 have been, 
 
 But where the right could not approve, 
 I would not wish to win." 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 The word I scarce had said, 
 When well-nigh froze the current of my blood, 
 For there her father and the maid, 
 All breathing near me stood. 
 
40 AMY WIEB. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 " Well done, indeed, my boy ! 
 Right nobly done!" with warmth the old man 
 
 cried, 
 
 "That gold hath surely no alloy, 
 By fire that s purified. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 " Its right arm Heaven assures, 
 To pilot him whose course is just and true ; 
 My daughter s heart was always yours, 
 So shall her hand be too. 
 
 XXX. 
 
 "While stand the heavens and earth. 
 In time s hand- writ ing shall the record live 
 God s bounty can, than honest worth, 
 No nobler title give." 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 The rising tear repressed, 
 Yet might the beating of my heart be heard, 
 I drew my Amy to my breast, 
 Without a spoken word. 
 
AMY WIER. 41 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 And many a day has flown, 
 And nuicli of sunshine rested on my life, 
 For Amy she has been my own, 
 My joy my hope my wife. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 And blessed tis again, 
 After long years in this dear spot to be, 
 
 With heart no older grown than then, 
 For Amy sits by me. 
 
MISCELLANEOUS. 
 
ELOISE. 45 
 
 ELOISE. 
 
 ROUNDED form of faultless mould, 
 Such, in marble chaste and cold, 
 Wrought the master hands of old. 
 
 O er each temple s swelling sphere, 
 Casting dreamy shadows there, 
 Flow the tresses of her hair, 
 
 As waves their sister waves pursue; 
 !S"or brown, nor flaxen is their hue, 
 But of a shade between the two. 
 
 Deeply blue as Tuscan skies, 
 Are her quiet, thoughtful eyes 
 Orbs like Eve s in Paradise. 
 
 Fresh her cheek, but coldly fair ; 
 Blush if ever faint and rare, 
 Flits like summer lightning there. 
 
ELOISE. 
 
 Little dotli her face disclose 
 
 Beautiful, but in repose 
 
 Of the wealth her nature knows. 
 
 Lava fires undying glow 
 
 In unfathomed depths below. 
 
 Curtained by a wall of snow. 
 
 Gentle is she as a dove, 
 
 But by nature formed to move 
 
 Queen o er all the realms of love. 
 
 A crown of constancy she wears, 
 
 As Blanc s cold heights, a thousand years, 
 
 Have pointed to the starry spheres. 
 
A SERENADE, 47 
 
 A SEKE1STADE. 
 
 ASLEEP, art thou, dearest, and dreaming of me ? 
 Or liear st tliou my song as it floats up to tliee ? 
 Let thy hand gently loosen thy lattice, and 
 
 prove 
 That thy heart is awake to the call of thy love. 
 
 Not of gold, nor broad lands, to my darling I 
 
 sing, 
 But devotion the warmest and truest I brine: ; 
 
 o " 
 
 No language so glowing, no music so rare, 
 A love can depict, that with mine can compare. 
 
 How radiant and pure shine the stars in the 
 
 While the great sleeping earth in deep shadow 
 
 doth lie; 
 
 But purer and deeper than either, must be 
 The passion that dwells in this bosom for thee. 
 
 il 1 
 
48 A SERENADE. 
 
 Come, dearest, enrobed in thy mantle of snow, 
 A glimpse of thy form on thy lover bestow ; 
 One wave of thy hand, and no longer alone, 
 His soul shall go forth to unite with thine own. 
 
GERALDINE. 49 
 
 GEEALDIHE. 
 
 A SIESTA. 
 
 IT happened shall I e er forget? 
 
 One day that my yonng bride 
 My own, my charming Geraldine, 
 
 Sat sewing by my side. 
 
 The afternoon so lovely was, 
 
 A walk with her I planned ; 
 So having laid her needle by, 
 
 "We went forth hand in hand. 
 
 And wand ring through the grand old woods, 
 
 No words my joy conld tell, 
 I thought within my soul, I ne er 
 
 Had loved her half so well. 
 3 4 
 
50 GERALDINE. 
 
 At length we readied a dark retreat, 
 
 Within the wood that slept, 
 "Where often in our courting days, 
 
 The try sting we had kept. 
 
 A fascinating, fearfully 
 
 Romantic spot was this, 
 Upon the very edges of 
 
 A dizzy precipice. 
 
 And old fantastic oaks, their arms 
 Far o er the brink did throw, 
 
 While a thread of limpid water leaped 
 Into the gulf below. 
 
 And thus we stood I gazing with 
 
 Delight upon my dove, 
 For beauty is so precious in 
 
 The being that we love. 
 
 When suddenly a step she took, 
 
 I scarce had time to think ; 
 She stooped to pluck a flower that grew 
 
 Upon the fatal brink. 
 
GERALDINE. 51 
 
 Transfixed I stood I could not speak, 
 
 2s~or warning could bestow, 
 Alas ! I saw her balance lost, 
 
 She headlong fell below. 
 
 I shrieked I sprang to save her, 
 
 When wide awake, I saw, 
 KT nose, the laughing Geraldine, 
 
 Was tickling with a straw. 
 
52 DARKNESS. 
 
 DARKNESS. 
 
 WHO hath not followed with despair 
 Lost faith, and staggered blind with doubt 
 
 Nor felt that there were times when life s 
 Last joy seemed trampled out? 
 
 From such a wreck of ruined hopes, 
 Borne passive down a sweeping tide, 
 
 I turned, and- through the darkness climbed 
 Far up a mountain side. 
 
 With heart all crushed as were its rocks, 
 And cold as seemed its silent frown, 
 
 I stood above that mountain rift, 
 And saw the moon go down. 
 
 I saw the moon go down, all pale 
 As her own kiss upon a shroud, 
 
 And then I heard the hollow wind, 
 Reverberating loud. 
 
DARKNESS. 53 
 
 And I was all alone alone. 
 
 Upon that mountain wild and bare; 
 
 All ! there are times when human hearts 
 Will fellow with despair. 
 
SUMMER LEAVES. 
 
 SUMMER LEAVES. 
 
 SUMMER leaves are dying, 
 
 Autumn winds are sighing, 
 
 Heralds sad of winter drear, 
 
 Howling round the stricken year. 
 Thus, soon our own short life has flown, 
 
 Youth s summer dream is o er ; 
 And the heart grieves o er withered leaves. 
 
 Of joys that are no more 
 
 Of joys that are no more. 
 
TO A TRAVELER. 55 
 
 TO A TRAVELER. 
 
 To wander o er earth s strange lands, 
 
 Obedient to a fate, 
 That points to some far distant prize, 
 
 Thy toil to compensate; 
 To know that they are far away, 
 
 "Who are most dear to tliee, 
 To miss their gentle, loving tones 
 
 Spoken so tenderly ; 
 To feel an utter loneliness, 
 
 Though mingling with a throng, 
 With nothing left but memory, 
 
 To feed thy heart upon ; 
 In thy lone journey, wearied one ! 
 
 How sad thy soul must be, 
 With years that like an ocean lie, 
 
 Between thy home and tliee. 
 
56 SAN PABLO. 
 
 SAN PABLO. 
 
 OH ! it is a night of beauty, that hath drawn 
 
 me thus away 
 .From the glare of lighted chambers, with their 
 
 gallant guests and gay ; 
 "With a tenderness she greets me, for the wind 
 
 is sweet and low, 
 And like thoughts that move a quiet heart, its 
 
 pulses come and go. 
 
 See! the moon upon her cloud-car rides, of 
 
 pure and pearly gray, 
 Scatt ring fragments of a shattered world of 
 
 silver o er the bay, 
 And beyond the hills that fade away as distance 
 
 swims between, 
 There the tall sierra through the misty deep is 
 
 dimly seen. 
 
SAN PABLO. 57 
 
 Like a line of lurid lava glows the night-fire 
 
 on the strand, 
 "While in creamy folds the white smoke lifts 
 
 itself above the land, 
 Till upon the breeze it rises to a region still 
 
 and clear, 
 Hanging like a wide and motionless pavilion in 
 
 the air. 
 
 Oh ! it is a night of beauty, for the stars shine 
 
 sweetly down, 
 With a quiet gaze, as loving eyes have looked 
 
 into our own ; 
 Tis a night to charm the spirit with the touch 
 
 of other years, 
 Where embalmed lie youth s precious joys or 
 
 youth s most precious tears. 
 
 With a gentle hand adown the silent past slie 
 
 guideth me, 
 As I move among the forms of things that long 
 
 have ceased to be; 
 3* 
 
58 SAN PABLO. 
 
 And with sure, unerring footstep leadeth to a 
 
 scene of bliss, 
 Folded in the quiet shadows of a night the 
 
 twin to this. 
 
 I am standing by the wicket of a cottage, while 
 
 the moon 
 Throws her waste of liquid silver over all the 
 
 leafy June; 
 And with happy smile a maiden s young and 
 
 joyous face is seen, 
 Peeping ^ through the shaded loopholes of the 
 
 ivy s glittering green. 
 
 From that home where sped her happy youth 
 
 in blest security, 
 With the perfect trust of innocence she cometh 
 
 forth to me ; 
 Then with half directed footsteps we go wan- 
 
 d ring through the shade 
 Of an aisle of pointed arches by the lofty cedars 
 
 made. 
 
SAX PABLO. 59 
 
 And I m telling her a tale of love in earnest 
 words, and low 
 
 As the laugh of dimpled waters on their jour 
 ney as they go; 
 
 And she listens without chiding me, nor bids 
 me to depart, 
 
 But comes trembling like a frighted bird, and 
 nestles near my heart. 
 
 But alas ! I dream ; the picture fast and faster 
 
 fades away, 
 And I wake amid the solitude that wraps the 
 
 lonely bay ; 
 And my heart will not be comforted, but keepp 
 
 its store of love 
 For the golden land that lieth there those 
 
 starry heights above. 
 
60 LINES AT SEA. 
 
 LINES AT SEA. 
 
 ADDRESSED TO MY DAUGHTER. 
 
 Ox the bosom I m borne of a calm summer 
 
 sea, 
 
 That seems to be sleeping as tranquilly, 
 As though the dark hurricane s wild rushing 
 
 sweep, 
 Had ne er wakened to fury its waters so deep. 
 
 O er these sweet peaceful waters we noiselessly 
 
 glide, 
 
 Save w r hen a low breeze gently ripples the tide, 
 From the silvery crests of whose wavelets emerge 
 The low lulling sounds of the whispering surge. 
 
 To the far verge of ocean now wanders the eye, 
 To catch a faint image that looms in the sky, 
 Tis a glimpse of the land, through the distance 
 
 that smiles, 
 Of the Florida coast with its thousand green 
 
 isles. 
 
LINES AT SEA. 61 
 
 Kow fades the broad daylight as evening draws 
 
 nigh, 
 And a single star peeps from its home in the 
 
 From its azure depths seeming a smile to bestow 
 On the grottos far down in the ocean below. 
 
 And I m thinking, dear daughter, of thee, all 
 
 the while, 
 And the clear silvery radiance that beams in 
 
 thy smile ; 
 May thy spirit through life be unclouded and 
 
 free, 
 And in peaceful repose, like this calm summer 
 
 sea. 
 
62 AGNES. 
 
 AGNES. 
 
 WHY, poor heart, so prone to cover, 
 
 From each curious, searching eye, 
 Faintest trace that might discover 
 
 What doth deepest in thee lie? 
 Dost thou nurse a secret sorrow 
 
 Hast thou found a joy serene? 
 Still thou seek st from art to borrow 
 
 Means to hide the fire within. 
 
 "When upon thee joy is stealing, 
 
 Bringing blissful ecstacy, 
 Close enshrined, the cherished feeling, 
 
 Cunning heart, lies locked in thee. 
 Like the miser s hidden treasure, 
 
 He so fondly gloats upon, 
 Deeper, sweeter is the pleasure, 
 
 Thus to feel tis all thine own. 
 
AGNES. 
 
 When, poor bleeding heart, expiring 
 
 "With the waste of hidden grief, 
 Efforts gentle, yet untiring, 
 
 Fail to render thee relief, 
 "Wilt thou not, thyself revealing, 
 
 Faith at last in friends repose? 
 Yain persuasion ! in concealing, 
 
 Balm descendeth on thy woes. 
 
MISERERE. 
 
 MISERERE. 
 
 DOWN by the sea an old man sat, 
 
 While on the rocks the rough sea broke. 
 
 "Tell me, I pray, what makes you look 
 So sad," twas thus to him I spoke ; 
 
 When, lifting up his silvery head, 
 
 And looking in my face, he said: 
 
 "Three years ago! alas! since then 
 How many cherished hopes have fled; 
 
 And griefs that passed like storm-clouds by, 
 And rosy joys that now are dead 
 
 Those joys and griefs a spectral throng, 
 
 That to the shadowy past belong. 
 
 " Three years ago ! it seems a dream, 
 But one whose forms are vivid yet: 
 
 That day is graven on rny heart, 
 A day I never shall forget ; 
 
MISERERE. 65 
 
 For two were sitting by my side, 
 And one of them a plighted bride. 
 
 " A hand of each I held in mine, 
 The union of their hearts to bless, 
 
 And never shall I see again, 
 So mute but full a happiness. 
 
 He noble was, she very fair, 
 
 And one aye both, my children were. 
 
 u But trials come, or soon or late, 
 To all who walk this realm of sin, 
 
 He had to struggle like the rest, 
 His fortune from the world to win. 
 
 For this he braved the stormy maiii 
 
 We never heard of him again. 
 
 " For days for months a weary time, 
 Along the sea-side would she roam, 
 
 And with a deep, confiding faith, 
 
 She prayed and watched for him to come, 
 
 But by degrees she came to know 
 
 The dreadful measure of her woe. 
 5 
 
66 MISERERE. 
 
 " To the sea-side she went no more, 
 But meekly strove to meet her fate, 
 
 And with the same sweet grace performed 
 The simple duties of her state ; 
 
 Through all that weary age of pain, 
 
 I never knew her to complain. 
 
 "Three days ago, a fresh-raised mound 
 Of earth, I saw with weeping eyes. 
 
 I try the mournful truth to hide, 
 But in my heart this record lies : 
 
 O er him now rolls the sullen wave, 
 
 She fills a maiden s early grave." 
 
NANNIE DARLING. 67 
 
 NANNIE DA KLIN G. 
 
 NANNIE darling! Nannie darling! 
 
 Ever blessed be tins day, 
 That liatli brought us to the altar, 
 
 And thus given thee away. 
 
 That hath placed thee in my keeping ; 
 
 "While my life blood courses warm, 
 Thee to comfort, thee to cherish, 
 
 And to shield from every harm. 
 
 Ah! that eve I well remember, 
 In the full leafed summer time, 
 
 When the dew was on the flowers 
 Blooming round us in their prime. 
 
 Then twas in the tender moonlight, 
 "With my hand close grasping thine, 
 
 In my face you looked so fondly, 
 As you promised to be mine. 
 
68 NANNIE DARLING. 
 
 And those days were bright and happy, 
 When the autumn time drew near, 
 
 When the yellow leaves were falling, 
 When, the corn was in the ear. 
 
 When we roamed beside the river, 
 Heeding not how it might run, 
 
 Thinking only of the precious 
 
 Time, when we two would be one. 
 
 Twas the same in piercing winter, 
 
 Or when oped the budding spring- 
 In the joy our hearts were nestling 
 That this blessed day would bring. 
 
 Yes, my darling, darling Nannie ! 
 
 Ever blessed be this day, 
 That hath brought us to the altar, 
 
 And thus given thee away. 
 
 In the summer in the autumn 
 In the winter in the spring, 
 
 I have loved my darling Nannie, 
 Best of every earthly thing. 
 
NANNIE DARLING. 09 
 
 Through the long years will I love her 
 Till the end of life shall be 
 
 Till the moss is on my grave-stone 
 Aye ! for all eternity ! 
 
70 OH! WOULD I WERE 
 
 OH! WOULD I W E E E WIT II 
 THEE FOREVEK! 
 
 OH! would I were with tliee forever, 
 
 Oli ! would that we never might part, 
 That the joy that now thrills me might ever 
 
 Fill up every vein of my heart. 
 I have traveled the fairy world over, 
 
 I have tasted of many a bliss, 
 But twas madness to hope to discover 
 
 The wealth of a moment like this. 
 
 Fate might point to the hour with her finger, 
 
 That should tear me asunder from thee, 
 Yet my spirit would near thee still linger, 
 
 And laugh at the harmless decree. 
 But no fancies like these will I cherish, 
 
 Kor fear the sweet dream will not last-- 
 That the bliss of this moment will perish, 
 
 Or live but a dream of the past. 
 
WITH THEE FOREVER! 71 
 
 Xo ! enough that I know thou art near me, 
 
 Enough that I feel thou art mine 
 As you gaze in my face, that you hear me, 
 
 In accents responding to thine. 
 Then away with the future before me, 
 
 Like a syren still singing of bliss, 
 Xot the breadth of all time can allure me, 
 
 While I live in a moment like this. 
 
72 THE TWO VIOLETS. 
 
 THE TWO VIOLETS. 
 
 A DKEAM. 
 
 As by a murmuring stream I lay, 
 
 Upon a shrubby knoll, 
 Soothed by the balmy breath of May, 
 
 Sweet languor o er me stole. 
 
 The bees low hum, the leafy shade 
 In stillness seemed to steep, 
 
 While drowsy zephyrs o er me played. 
 And whispered me to sleep. 
 
 And as with fancies oddly knit, 
 My wandering senses teemed, 
 
 I lost me in their mazy flight, 
 And thus it was I dreamed: 
 
THE TWO VIOLETS. 73 
 
 Methought two violets, side by side, 
 
 Bloomed in a valley low ; 
 In golden purple one was dyed, 
 
 And one was white as snow. 
 
 The dews that on them lightly lie, 
 
 The beams of heaven disperse, 
 While thus in friendly colloquy, 
 
 The gentle pair converse : 
 
 "Fair sister," quoth the purple flower, 
 
 "I ll tell thee why I fled 
 The gorgeous domes of pride and power, 
 And sought this quiet shade. 
 
 "In ancient days, Rome foremost stood 
 
 In science, arts, and laws, 
 Pleading, in her patrician blood, 
 
 The mind s triumphant cause. 
 
 " Twas here, where Tiber s waters flow 
 Through banks with olives crowned, 
 
 And groves of citron trees, that throw 
 Their odorous sweets around. 
 
t THE TWO VIOLETS. 
 
 " I first upon tlie earth appeared, 
 
 An emblem fair, designed 
 To show that here the gods had reared 
 
 The garden of the mind. 
 
 " For no plebeian might appear 
 
 In garb of purple hue, 
 While from the royal robe I wear, 
 
 Its tint the toga drew. 
 
 u llere Learning s midnight lamp was fed 
 In broad-browed Wisdom s cell, 
 
 While Folly, oft rebuked, had fled, 
 In wilder climes to dwell. 
 
 "And Greatness then had reached the goal 
 
 That mortals might attain 
 A lofty nobleness of soul, 
 
 More fitting gods than men. 
 
 e 
 
 " But when corrupt the state had grown, 
 
 And Luxury forged a chain 
 To drag the shaft of Virtue down, 
 
 That propped her golden reign, 
 
THE TWO VIOLETS. 
 
 "Home yielded to the odious thrall 
 
 That Sloth about her threw, 
 And Jove, offended at her fall, 
 
 His tutelage withdrew. 
 
 " The badre of Greatness ceased to erace 
 
 * ^ o 
 
 The broad and lofty brow, 
 
 And Honor lifted to her place 
 
 The grov ling and the low. 
 
 "And from that hour, the great of mind 
 
 Retired from city strife, 
 Happy in rural peace to find 
 
 The cordial balm of life. 
 
 "And I, the mind s pure emblem flower, 
 Alike from crowds withdrew, 
 
 To bud and bloom from that same hour, 
 In sweet seclusion too. 
 
 "Pray tell me, fairer sister, now, 
 
 Why in this dreary shade, 
 In plain attire delightest thou 
 
 To hide thy gentle head?" 
 
76 THE TWO VIOLETS. 
 
 Pausing, the other thus replied : 
 
 " Sister, our fates are one ; 
 To bloom unnoticed side by side, 
 
 Where crime and tumult shun. 
 
 " Emblem of white-robed purity, 
 
 My spotless petals tell 
 That where the wild wind wanders free, 
 
 Fair Virtue loves to dwell. 
 
 "That where fresh fields and woods wave green, 
 
 And purling streamlets roll, 
 The winning charms alone are seen, 
 
 That catch the ingenuous soul. 
 
 "A truth we thus to man impart, 
 
 That oft nest will he find, 
 The noble mind, the virtuous heart, 
 
 In rural life combined/ 
 
 " 
 
 Just then, a storm o ercast the day, 
 And rolled the thunder deep, 
 
 And as the vision swam away, 
 I started from my sleep. 
 
THE TWO VIOLETS. 7? 
 
 But ere I shelter sought to find, 
 
 Beneath yon hawthorn s shade, 
 I reasoned thus within my niind, 
 
 And these reflections made. 
 
 "With various views while all mankind 
 
 On happiness are bent, 
 Striving with restless heat to find 
 
 A haven of content, 
 
 My standard I have fixed so low, 
 
 And yet withal so high, 
 Methinks that Heaven may still bestow 
 
 The blessing ere I die. 
 
 Give me a mind with wisdom blest, 
 
 A goodly stock of health, 
 A warm, true heart within my breast, 
 
 And competence, not wealth. 
 
 With these, and those sweet, simple joys 
 
 That rural charms supply, 
 In some sweet nook removed from noise, 
 
 I d wish to live and die. 
 
78 OH, WOULD I WERE FEEEI 
 
 O H , W O U L D I WEEE FKEE! 
 
 "On, would I were free!" with what fervent 
 
 expression, 
 This thought gushes up from the wells of the 
 
 heart, 
 
 Or holds of its chambers a silent possession, 
 Ne er in life s weary lease from its tenure to 
 part. 
 
 Methinks in the eye of that winged prisoner 
 
 yonder, 
 
 A look of sweet pitiful pleading I see, 
 And the song he is singing so plaintive and 
 
 tender, 
 
 Tells his captive heart s longing " Oh, would 
 I were free!" 
 
OH, WOULD I WERE FREE! 79 
 
 " Oil, would I were free !" sighs with earnest 
 
 emotion, 
 The school-boy as out from his prison he 
 
 peers 
 O er the fields and the woods from the breeze 
 
 all in motion, 
 And in the wild vesture that liberty wears. 
 
 When far from his mistress, thus speaks, too, 
 
 the lover, 
 While the star of the evening sheds on him 
 
 its ray, 
 " Oh ! would that the days of my exile were 
 
 over, 
 That with joy I might break from my fetters 
 
 And the wand rer that has from his loved ones 
 
 been parted, 
 
 Between them long years and the great heav 
 ing sea, 
 
 Awakes at the dead of the night broken-hearted, 
 And weeps on his pillow, " Oh, would I were 
 free!" 
 
80 Oil, WOULD I WERE FREE! 
 
 Alas ! every creature from Adam descended, 
 Of lowly estate or exalted degree, 
 
 As the price to tlie boon of existence appended, 
 Feels the clasp of some fetter from whicl; 
 he d be free. 
 
 Then patience, good brother! Time s waters are 
 
 healing, 
 
 And every affliction that grieves us can cure, 
 But tis just when he pleases, his gifts he ll be 
 
 dealing, 
 So let us be valiant and learn to endure. 
 
 Unwise tis to wish Time s swift pinions to 
 
 hasten, 
 
 For sooner, perhaps, than we d will it to be, 
 Death, that punctual old turnkey, will come to 
 
 unfasten 
 The doors of our prison, and set us all free. 
 
LIFE. 81 
 
 LIFE. 
 
 FINIS COKONAT OPUS." 
 
 As tranquil joy to hearts long hopeless, so 
 A golden sunset ends a day of storms ; 
 
 And gay the craft on polar seas sore tost, 
 Whose sails at last a rosy summer warms. 
 
 O happy life! in roughest pathways tried, 
 
 Whose steps at eve through peaceful valleys 
 glide. 
 
 " Promise," above the cradle where he slept, 
 Was writ in characters of glowing light ; 
 
 Then happy, laughing childhood came, and then 
 A youth of beauty crowned with all delight ; 
 
 And twenty blooming summers, joining hands. 
 
 Led him at last to manhood s shining lands. 
 4* 6 
 
82 LIF E. 
 
 On dewy mound as stands a stag at morn, 
 Snuffs the fresh mountain air and glances o er 
 
 His boundless range of hazel, so with eye 
 Dilated, and all eager to explore 
 
 The future s glimmering vista, once he stood, 
 
 While hope and faith stirred in his ardent blood. 
 
 Then forth into the world s wide lists he stepped, 
 With life s grim foes to battle face to face, 
 
 Or, doffing casque and lance, with agile feet 
 To struggle with the swiftest in the race ; 
 
 Till, as on easy pinions of the wind, 
 
 He led the field and left all far behind. 
 
 Fortune with ready hand her treasures heaped, 
 And strewed them broadcast in his path, and 
 fame, 
 
 Loud paeans singing, crowned his brow T with bays, 
 And on a flood of honor bore his name ; 
 
 Till incense, flung from censers swinging wide, 
 
 Seemed without perfume to his sated pride. 
 
 Tli en for a time he grasped the flying mane 
 Of pleasure, vaulted on the frantic steed, 
 
LIFE. 83 
 
 And skimmed the edges of her dizzy track ; 
 Till love the crowned queen stayed his wild 
 
 speed, 
 
 And turned his courser with a gentle hand, 
 To the sweet pastures of her flowery land. 
 
 In sunny lustre lies the home of love, 
 Connubial love, to holy flame akin, 
 Where joy forever on the threshold smiles, 
 And peace and sweet contentment dwell 
 
 within, 
 
 And warm delights, but pure as summer rain; 
 Where passions rude for entrance knock in 
 vain. 
 
 Here, with his other self, and offspring fair, 
 
 All gathered round him in that rare retreat, 
 He had his dream forgetful of the years 
 
 O v 
 
 That came and glided by with noiseless feet 
 O mortal joy ! thy roots all shallow lie ; 
 When blooming fairest, doomed alway to die. 
 
 As a low wind first ripples o er a lake, 
 Then, piping on the mountain s piny comb, 
 
84: LIFE. 
 
 Sweeps down the rocky gorge, a roaring "blast, 
 
 And lashes the chafed waters to a foam ; 
 So bursts at once in dark and stormy strife, 
 Its first wild grief upon a joyful life. 
 
 A babe was born, but with its first faint cry, 
 O God! the mother passed from earth away; 
 
 Then sudden night came down upon his soul, 
 An icy darkness shutting out all day ; 
 
 As if the living sun, struck dead in space, 
 
 Had left but one pale star to fill its place. 
 
 All listless lay the sullen sands of life 
 
 As grain by grain they fell. A single day 
 
 Had touched with death the very face of time ; 
 While seasons all unheeded lapsed away ; 
 
 A pulseless pause hung round the rolling years, 
 
 And brooded o er a grief too deep for tears. 
 
 So, soon or late, to ashes crumble all 
 
 The shrines where men their dearest treasures 
 trust ; 
 
 We build on frailty and the fabric falls; 
 We grasp the apple but to find it dust. 
 
LIFE 85 
 
 And does this poor, unprofitable strife 
 To nothing lead? Is this the end of life? 
 
 Not so; it spins a thread beyond the grave, 
 That links it fast to the eternal years ; 
 
 Yet seems a short, imperfect fragment here, 
 Till through the mists of death it reappears, 
 
 And shows, at last, the great Creator s plan 
 
 Of endless glory for his creature man. 
 
 And he, of whom these lines make record brief, 
 Long prostrate lay, nor strove again to rise: 
 
 First on his spirit broke a feeble light, 
 Then fell the holy glow of evening skies; 
 
 And resignation, bringing peace and rest, 
 
 Folded her wings and nestled in his breast. 
 
 As helmsman bold the breakers who hath braved, 
 Looketh not back upon the dangers past, 
 
 Nor farther in where sleeps the sunny shore, 
 But seaward points his steady prow at last; 
 
 So gained the good old man the open sea, 
 
 Whose waters mingled with eternity. 
 
80 THE DOG AND THE CKOCODILE. 
 
 THE DOG AND THE CEOCODILE 
 
 SPANISH FABLE. 
 
 A KIISTD, considerate crocodile, 
 Lay sunning in his favorite Nile; 
 As by the margin of the river 
 To quench his thirst, or cool his liver 
 A cur discreet, like master man, 
 Lapped the sweet water as he ran. 
 The cayman oily chap cried out, 
 "My friend, what canst thou be about? 
 Such haste shows plainly some delusion, 
 Most hifrtful to thy constitution." 
 Dash still kept on, but spoke thus wise: 
 " Thanks for your very kind advice ; 
 But I ve a silly sort of notion, 
 I d rather die of too much motion, 
 Than suffer you to solve the question, 
 If I be fit for your digestion." 
 
AN" EVENING SKETCH. 87 
 
 AN EVENING SKETCH. 
 
 OH! what a marvellous perfection, hath 
 Tliis summer eve put on ! with subtle glide 
 It penetrates the soul, infusing there 
 A sense supreme of nature s peerless power. 
 The cumbrous harness of life s dusty way, 
 Falls at its touch; cares in oblivion sink, 
 And the freed spirit seems on rushing wings, 
 Rising through regions of the beautiful, 
 To catch some glimpses of its promised home. 
 Low in the western sky, the sun hath sunk 
 Behind a gorgeous pyramid of clouds, 
 In purple robed, and edged with liquid gold ; 
 And while upon the sweet and quiet earth, 
 That lies below, a softened shadow falls, 
 Some glittering lights still touch the lofty spire, 
 That mounts above the old cathedral s dome. 
 Time-honored pile ! grey with the mould of years, 
 In venerable grandeur rooted there, 
 
88 AN EVENING SKETCH. 
 
 Like some bold beacon formed by nature s Land 
 In earth s young days, when the old hills were 
 
 born. 
 Hark ! as from vasty lungs, a voice speaks 
 
 out, 
 
 In full, deep measured tones of earnestness. 
 For on the air that seems to gather in 
 From far and near, the myriad sounds of earth, 
 And mingle them in one low, droning hum 
 Solemn and deep the vesper bell sends forth 
 Its summons to the children of the vale. 
 And soon, obedient to the holy call, 
 They throng the way, now singly, now in groups. 
 Here mothers, smiling with maternal eyes, 
 Lead by the hand their sinless little ones ; 
 And youths and maidens full of careless life, 
 And men in prime of days, with marks of care 
 Upon their brows, by turns come into view. 
 Others with tottering step, that tells of age, 
 With the poor cripple and the beggar join, 
 And all press forward, on one purpose bent 
 To gain the gateway of the house of God. 
 Nor faded yet the golden summer eve! 
 A sweeter depth of beauty e en she wears. 
 
AN EVENING SKETCH. 89 
 
 But nature liatli no hold upon me more. 
 
 I ponder on that wondrous mystery 
 
 Of beauty prayer that brightening track of 
 
 light, 
 
 Up which the fervent soul may run may Hy, 
 And mount upon the wings of love, to hold 
 Communion with the denizens of heaven. 
 
 Lift up thy soul in grateful praise, O man ! 
 That in thy hearts deep sanctuary, lies 
 The source supernal of a beauty, far 
 Transcending all that nature can bestow ; 
 For nature s but a ray of God s magnificence, 
 But God, himself, comes to the soul in prayer. 
 
90 ROSALINDA. 
 
 ROSALINDA. 
 
 ROSALINDA ! I love tliee and thou lovest me, 
 The spell it is broken onr hearts are now free ; 
 Free as streams that through rock-shrouded 
 
 darkness have run, 
 To burst into sunlight and mingle in one. 
 
 Long the heart-hidden mystery lay unrevealed, 
 And each from the other the secret concealed; 
 For we kept it enshrined without word, with 
 out look 
 
 
 
 Between two silent natures, as in a sealed book. 
 
 With a root in each heart, yet together they 
 
 drew, 
 
 To become but one passion that secretly grew; 
 And in sunshine and darkness, with hopes and 
 
 w T ith fears, 
 "We have cherished the plant with the patience 
 
 of years. 
 
ROSALINDA. 91 
 
 Till at length in mute language it spoke from 
 
 the eyes; 
 We have told it in words, we have breathed 
 
 it in sighs ; 
 
 "We have rent the dull curtain that kept us apart, 
 And our vows have been ratified, heart against 
 
 heart. 
 
 Rosalinda! I love thee and thou lovest me, 
 But the wealth of our passion the world cannot 
 
 see, 
 For of all that s most prized what is hidden is 
 
 best, 
 If unveiled twould eclipse twould o ershadow 
 
 the rest. 
 
 Who hath fathomed the earth and its treasures 
 * all told? 
 
 Or hath counted the gems its dark caverns 
 enfold? 
 
 Who hath weighed all the gold in the glitter 
 ing rills, 
 
 Or that s swelling the veins of the rock-hearted 
 hills? 
 
92 ROSALINDA. 
 
 Who liatli dreamed not of beauties, for vision 
 
 too bright, 
 
 That lie hid in yon fathomless ocean of light ? 
 Or knows not that yon little star distant and 
 
 dim, 
 Is a beautiful world lost forever to him? 
 
 Rosalinda ! I love thee and thou lovest me, 
 We are floating in light other eyes cannot see, 
 Tis all darkness to them, yet to us it appears 
 To illumme every path in this valley of tears. 
 
THE SHADES OF SUMMER EYE. 93 
 
 WHEN THE SHADES OF 
 SUMMER EYE. 
 
 Now when the shades of summer eve begin to 
 
 close, 
 And night to weary mortals soon shall bring 
 
 repose, 
 
 The gentle stars shall shine on me, 
 And light the path that leads to thee, 
 And light the path light the path that leads 
 to thee. 
 
 Upon my ear, as through the dewy woods I 
 
 hie, 
 The whip-poor-will s low liquid note falls plain 
 
 tively, 
 
 Till love s low greeting welcomes me, 
 "Where ends the path that leads to thee, 
 \Vhere ends the path ends the path that leads 
 to thee. 
 
LOST AT SEA. 
 
 LOST AT SEA. 
 
 FAR out upon tlie dreary waste 
 Of ocean waters, dark and deep, 
 
 Where boundless space embosomed lies, 
 By silence nursed to sleep : 
 
 Lifted above those awful depths, 
 That dream in endless night below, 
 
 Where stillness ever reigns where waves 
 Break not, nor tempests blow ; 
 
 A solitary object swings 
 
 Cpon the stately swelling sea 
 
 A human creature, wrestling with 
 A frightful destiny. 
 
 A shattered spar he clings to, but 
 
 "With feeble hold, that drowning man ; 
 
 The strong stout heart no longer nerves 
 His form, grown weak and wan. 
 
LOST AT SEA. 95 
 
 Thrice hath he seen the sun come up, 
 And thrice sink down into the sea, 
 
 As struggling, life s frail hold to keep, 
 He nears eternity. 
 
 Fear s icy zone his soul hath passed, 
 Its terrors now bring no dismay; 
 
 E en hope, that for a season cheered 
 His heart, hath passed away. 
 
 Great God ! can thought e er comprehend 
 The height and depth of such a woe, 
 
 When the spent flesh almost hath ceased 
 Of suffering to know ? 
 
 Feebly he lifts his dying eyes, 
 As, from the cold and quiet sea, 
 
 The moon, upon night s pearly shell, 
 Rises in majesty. 
 
 Why throbs again life s ebbing tide? 
 
 Why gleams that wild light in his eye? 
 Oil the horizon s glittering line, 
 
 A sail looms in the sky. 
 
96 LOSTATSEA. 
 
 Nearer she comes and nearer still, 
 
 Her masts her very shrouds are seen ; 
 
 In mercy will she yet ride o er 
 The space that lies between ? 
 
 To wave a signal with his hand, 
 He gathers all his feeble force ; 
 
 Alas ! his only hope expires ; 
 She keeps upon her course. 
 
 No watchful eye that signal sees, 
 
 No friendly hand is stretched to save, 
 
 Too much ! frail nature can no more, 
 He sinks into the wave. 
 
 And wailing winds his dirge shall sing. 
 
 Nor sadder could the requiem be, 
 O er him who rests in dreamless sleep, 
 
 Beneath the cold blue sea. 
 
DEATH. 07 
 
 DEATH. 
 
 CRUEL Death ! relentless foe ! 
 Striking down with crushing blow, 
 What our hearts cling closest to ; 
 The sharp the agonizing pang, 
 
 Thy shaft doth give, 
 
 To those that live, 
 Is keener, deeper, "bitterer than 
 The anguish of the dying man. 
 
 Past are his pains, 
 
 When through his veins, 
 With subtle speed is driven, 
 Quick as th electric flash of heaven, 
 The freezing poison of thy fang. 
 He, thy malice now defies, 
 He who still and pallid lies, 
 5 7 
 
98 DEATH. 
 
 Like a marble effigy, upon his funeral bier ; 
 Turn, turn away, 
 From the cold clay, 
 
 In bleeding hearts your triumph lies, not here 
 ~No more upon that placid brow, 
 With all thy torturing arts, wilt thou 
 Excite a frown. 
 "With his last moan, 
 The mortal throe was o er, 
 Now he can feel 
 Thy deadly steel 
 
 No more. 
 See, all the while, 
 A happy smile 
 
 Plays round his lips and seems to tell, 
 His spirit light, 
 Has winged its flight 
 To heaven, with its God to dwell. 
 
 n. 
 
 Death ! here s your prey this mourning troop 
 Of friends, this weeping band 
 Of kindred, too, who stand 
 Around the grave, a wretched group. 
 
DEATH. 
 
 While 011 the hushed and silent air 
 Breathe the low waitings of despair, 
 Wrung from yon pale and wasted one, 
 Whose tottering step and faded cheek, 
 And sunken eye, too plainly speak 
 The havoc thoii hast done. 
 
 Complete thy work, O Death! 
 Snatch away her feeble breath, 
 Let thy spell about her creep, 
 Shroud her in thy icy sleep. 
 She s thy captive now art sure 3 
 Is she thine for evermore I 
 Blind, indeed, O Death! thou art, 
 To the bright immortal part; 
 All that s left thee for thy portion of the prize, 
 Is the cold insensate clay, 
 While her spirit s gone away, 
 To the dwellings of the angels in the skies. 
 
100 UNSELFISH LOYE. 
 
 UNSELFISH LOYE. 
 
 IN woody dell, where dark boughs meet 
 
 O er waters murmuring at my feet, 
 
 Mid depths of mystic shade I lie, 
 
 And muse on life s sad mystery. 
 
 Alas ! why should my lips disclose 
 
 The secret of my bosom s woes? 
 
 Why even by a look reveal 
 
 The passion that for her I feel? 
 
 Some chord within her heart may lie, 
 
 Already tuned to sympathy, 
 
 That only needs the master tone, 
 
 To wake the music of its own. 
 
 But had not best that answering lay, 
 
 Another touch than mine obey ? 
 
 One in whose love she d haply be 
 
 More blest than sharing life with me. 
 
 Alas ! I know no other dwells 
 
 On earth, up from whose bosom wells 
 
UNSELFISH LOVE. . 101 
 
 For her, so warm, but pure a flood 
 
 Of deep, intense solicitude ; 
 
 And all of wealth heaven could bestow, 
 
 All that of fame man s heart might know, 
 
 All he might glean from earth, in fine, 
 
 I d barter all to call her mine. 
 
 But would I not, for wealth or fame 
 
 That fancy s wildest dream, could name, 
 
 Beguiled by self, consent to throw 
 
 One shadow on her cloudless brow. 
 
 No I rather let my secret rest 
 
 Forever buried in my breast, 
 
 Unless sweet proofs my senses move, 
 
 That she d delight in my poor love. 
 
102 DOWN BY SILENT WATERS. 
 
 DOWN BY SILENT W A T E E S 
 
 by silent waters, 
 Stretching far away 
 In the misty distance, 
 Sat we one sweet day, 
 
 Near the grassy margin 
 Of those waters still, 
 In the shadow of the 
 
 Overhanging hill. 
 
 One sweet day in Autumn, 
 Sat we there alone, 
 
 Hushed the heart of nature, 
 Hushed as were our own. 
 
 Silence all around us, 
 
 Silence in the air, 
 Silence o er the waters 
 
 Silence everywhere. 
 
DOWN BY SILENT WATERS. 103 
 
 Till the full enchantment 
 
 On our spirits fell, 
 With a depth of meaning, 
 
 Words can never tell ; t 
 
 Till with mute emotion, 
 
 Hand in hand was laid 
 Vows the purest, truest, 
 
 Silently were made; 
 
 Yows, outliving seasons : 
 
 Fraught with joys or tears, 
 Standing like pale tombstones 
 
 Over buried years 
 
 Of a life the record 
 
 All too bright to last 
 Pointing to a shadow 
 
 In the spectral past ; 
 
 Years that back have brought me, 
 
 As on that sweet day, 
 To these silent waters 
 
 Stretching far away, 
 
104 DOWN BY SILENT .WATERS, 
 
 From their grassy margin, 
 
 There reposing still, 
 In the shadow of the 
 
 Overhanging hill. 
 
 Silence all around me, 
 
 Silence in the air, 
 Silence o er the waters 
 
 Silence everywhere. 
 
 Shroud-like while it wraps me, 
 
 Lingering here alone, 
 Seems the heart of nature 
 
 Dead as is my own. 
 
FORTUNE S FAVORITE. 105 
 
 FOKTUXE S FAYOKITE. 
 
 How poorly dotli the shallow World 
 Our hearts dark currents scan ! 
 
 Metliinks I hear the thoughtless crowd 
 Exclaim, " Oh, happy man ! 
 
 "Life s richest prizes thou hast won, 
 Friends, fortune, and a name, 
 
 For to the very dregs thou st drained 
 The honied cup of fame." 
 
 Ah ! could they penetrate this breast, 
 And mark the gloom that s there, 
 
 Earth s humblest son would not exchange 
 His lot for one so drear. 
 
106 FORTUNE S FAVORITE.. 
 
 Ah ! Mary, thou hast left me here, 
 With naught thy place to fill, 
 
 For the sunshine of my life went out 
 When thy warm pulse stood still. 
 
 Men look with envy at my life, 
 
 The honors that are mine, 
 Heaven knows I d freely give them all 
 
 For one sweet smile of thine. 
 
 ISTow through the world s admiring throngs 
 
 Indifferent I move ; 
 What is man s feeble praise to me? 
 
 I ve nothing left to love. 
 
 The laurel wreath upon my brow 
 
 An idle mockery seems; 
 Thy tenderness was more to me 
 
 Than glory s wildest dreams. 
 
 I cannot call thee back to life; 
 
 Tliou rt gone for evermore ; 
 Yet do I feel that we shall meet 
 
 When life s dull season s o er. 
 
FORTUNE S FAVORITE. 107 
 
 And in eternal bonds re-joined, 
 When tlie last trump shall sound, 
 
 Roaming through sunny paths of peace, 
 Our spirits will be found. 
 
108 LONGINGS. 
 
 L ONGINGS. 
 
 Tis a flower divinely rare, 
 I ve been seeking everywhere, 
 Neath the ocean depths of air. 
 
 Where the broad earth sweeps away 
 In the glimmering dawn of day, 
 Searching still my footsteps stray. 
 
 Round me streams the amber sun, 
 Oft as in my haste I run, 
 But my task is never done. 
 
 Sometimes when with glittering light, 
 Stars shine o er me cold and bright, 
 Search I hopeless through the night. 
 
 And the morning young and fair T 
 Dawns again to find me there, 
 With a spirit crushed with care. 
 
LONGINGS. 109 
 
 Climb I then the cliffs that rise, 
 Lost in folds that veil the skies, 
 Hoping there to seize my prize. 
 
 Where the waters ebb and flow 
 O er their pebbly depths below, 
 I have dreamed the flower might grow ; 
 
 And with power that fancy gave, 
 
 Fathomed every ocean cave, 
 
 But it bloomed not neath the wave. 
 
 Sea and land, sunshine and shade, 
 Mountain proud and lowly glade, 
 Fruitless search through all I ve made. 
 
 Oft I ve scanned the brazen sky, 
 
 Pond ring on the mystery, 
 
 Till my eyes were strained and dry. 
 
 Then to earth I ve turned again 
 Fruitful soil, where grief and pain 
 Thrive in tears as plants in rain. 
 
110 LONGINGS. 
 
 Life is nearly spent and gone, 
 Weary grows my heart, and lone, 
 Shall 1 call the flower my own ? 
 
 Ne er on earth that joy may be, 
 Only will it bloom for me, 
 On thy shores, eternity ! 
 
A WINTER ELEGY. Ill 
 
 A WINTER ELEGY. 
 
 IMITATION OF GEAY. r 
 
 THE wintry blast howls through the forest grey, 
 The leafless branches rattle on each tree, 
 
 The withered leaves in eddies whirl away, 
 And stricken nature meditates with me. 
 
 Now lulls in lessening gusts the wind away, 
 And sounds in stagnant silence seem tc 
 freeze, 
 
 Save where yon wild stream dashes on its way, 
 Or whisp ring sedges catcli the dying breeze. 
 
 Save that from yonder venerable tree, 
 The raven croaks her melancholy strain, 
 
 To such as heedless sail o er life s smooth sea, 
 ~NoT dream that death is slumbering on the 
 
 o 
 
 main. 
 
112 A WINTER ELEGY. 
 
 Beneath these aged oaks these hoary boughs, 
 "Where daily now the white man toils for 
 food, 
 
 The smoky wigwam knew its simple joys, 
 Or round its fires the Indian warriors stood. 
 
 The thunder-smiting crash, nor falling pine, 
 Nor roaring whirlwind, nor the battle yell, 
 
 Nor arrow s whiz, nor strong bow s twanging 
 
 line, 
 Shall ever break their slumber s heavy spell. 
 
 For them no more the martial fire shall burn, 
 When some old chieftain tells his battles 
 o er, 
 
 Nor dusky bride await her lord s return, 
 Or fearful, dread lest he return no more. 
 
 Oft through the thicket sped the fatal dart, 
 The bounding deer oft felt the unerring 
 
 stroke, 
 How wild and free throbbed each unfettered 
 
 heart ! 
 How glad their shout the forest silence broke ! 
 
A WINTER ELEGY. 113 
 
 Let not refinement criticise their ways, 
 Their vengeful hate their thirst for bloody 
 
 fame, 
 Nor cultured man withhold his meed of praise, 
 
 For vengeance, then, and virtue, were the 
 
 same. 
 
 8 
 
114 CONFIDENCE. 
 
 CONFIDENCE. 
 
 IMITATION OF SHENSTONE. 
 
 YE damsels, blithe, happy, and free! 
 
 With hearts unacquainted with love ; 
 Ye shepherds, who pipe o er the lea ! 
 
 Content with your lambkins to rove. 
 In you I can never confide, 
 
 Gay maidens and light-hearted swains, 
 For I very well know you ll deride 
 
 The sweet secret my bosom contains. 
 
 But I ll hie me away to yon wood, 
 
 In whose covert the low cooing dove, 
 Undisturbed in her sweet solitude, 
 
 Ever warbles her lament of love. 
 And I ll mingle my sighs with the strain, 
 
 In w T hich her lost mate she bewails ; 
 To the rocks and the trees I ll complain, 
 
 For such confidants never tell tales. 
 
CONFIDENCE. 115 
 
 When I peep in the streams as I pass, 
 
 Alas ! what sad changes appear ; 
 The lilies tis easy to trace, 
 
 But the roses no longer are there. 
 ~Now can I be blamed that I m sad, 
 
 That my mirth and good humor are flown? 
 Should I not be ashamed to seem glad, 
 
 When my Lubin sweet shepherd is gone? 
 
 When free with my Lubin to stray, 
 
 And list the sweet truths lie would own, 
 The hours so quick flew away, 
 
 They were past ere I thought them begun ; 
 Since his voice I no longer may hear, 
 
 I am lost in abstraction profound ; 
 I sit by the hour unaware 
 
 Of a thing that is passing around. 
 
 They may tell me my Lubin s untrue, 
 
 Nor cares his lost Delia to see, 
 That his heart he has promised to Sue, 
 
 That was long ago given to me ; 
 But such slanders I will not believe, 
 
 Foul envy is all that they prove; 
 
11*6 CONFIDENCE. 
 
 For my Lubin would never deceive 
 The lassie that once fixed his love. 
 
 Then listen, thou soft-scented gale! 
 
 Nor hasten unkindly away, 
 Till thou hear st from my lips a true tale, 
 
 To be borne to my Lubin this day: 
 Oh, tell him 110 other than he, 
 
 Can lift from my bosom its pain! 
 Oh, tell him to come back to me, 
 
 And I shall be happy again! 
 
MARGARET. 117 
 
 MAEGAEET. 
 
 I HAD a dream, a pleasant dream, last niglit, 
 And much I marvel that so vividly, 
 
 By memory s untrimmed light, 
 Should glow the image of an old delight, 
 And come with such a freshness back to me. 
 
 The village where my boyhood glided by, 
 I saw reposing, as in days of yore, 
 Beneath an evening sky ; 
 And like a low and plaintive melody, 
 The quiet picture touched my soul once more. 
 
 Then joy stole o er me, like a thought of love, 
 The outline of the pale new moon to see, 
 
 Poised in the vault above, 
 As floats a feather from a snow T -w T hite dove, 
 For thus she said, "Thv wish shall answered 
 be." 
 
118 MARGARET. 
 
 The wish, unuttered, only lived in thought, 
 And yet a pleasing change came o er the scene, 
 
 Most marvellously wrought 
 A fair-haired girl close to my side seemed 
 
 brought, 
 And wandered with me o er the village green. 
 
 From her sealed lips no soft confession fell, 
 "No word of love I yet had dared to breathe 
 
 her, 
 
 Why twas I could not tell, 
 But hushed our simple hearts seemed by a 
 
 spell, 
 Though beating such a sweet tattoo together. 
 
 I never have forgotten Margaret, 
 
 She was the gentlest thing I ever knew, 
 
 So serious, and yet 
 Sweet mirth sometimes came like a sparkling 
 
 jet, 
 From out her eyes of bright, but earnest blue. 
 
 Without a cloud her morn of life had been, 
 And to my own its sunny light imparted, 
 
MARGARET, 119 
 
 Our future all unseen 
 So woven into one our hearts seemed then, 
 We never dreamed that we could e er be parted. 
 
 Alas ! that those first golden blooms of love 
 Those promises of youth so true and tender 
 
 Should perishable prove, 
 Or only live in dreams, the heart to move ; 
 Scant tribute to those dear old times to render. 
 
 Swift years, ah, whither flown ! I know not now 
 The country e en where Margaret is dwelling; 
 
 Mayhap her form lies low 
 
 Beneath the turf where the wild daisies grow, 
 Some time-worn stone her simple story telling. 
 
 Peace to thee, Margaret; peace, where er thou 
 
 art, 
 In earthly home, or heaven, hence summoned 
 
 eavly ; 
 
 Yet ere from thee I part, 
 I ll breathe once more, peace to the gentle 
 
 heart 
 Of her, whom, long ago, I loved so dearly. 
 
120 MARGARET. 
 
 My dream is o er ; nay, is t not one long dream . 
 This life of mine? phantasmagoria, all 
 
 Its lights and darks must gleam, 
 Until eternity s bright morning beam 
 To deathless life my slumbering soul shall call. 
 
THE BRIDAL MORN. 121 
 
 THE BKIDAL M O E K 
 
 UPON a grassy slope that scarce had given 
 All its fresh moisture to the morning sun, 
 
 o 
 
 But still some sparkling drops contrived to 
 
 screen 
 
 From the warm wooings of his amorous beams. 
 A youth, whose fair unfurrowed brow pro 
 claimed 
 
 A fresh young soul, free from all taint of care. 
 Among a joyous group conspicuous stood. 
 His clear bright eye, from which, at other times, 
 A. glorious energy oft shone, with look 
 Of fond and earnest tenderness, now gazed 
 Upon another and a fairer form 
 One that with fluttering heart, in dubious maze 
 Of mingled joy and fear, stood half unnerved, 
 Y"et happy by his side. Yes, happy both! 
 And* in the changing scenes of after years, 
 6 
 
122 THE BRIDAL MORN. 
 
 Whate er betide, tins of all others will 
 Remembered be. For twas the bridal day 
 Of this young pair an Indian summer morn. 
 That veiled itself in haze of dreamy blue, 
 Sleeping so stilly, that the rustlings of 
 The dropping leaves, like whispers seemed into 
 The ear to glide. While all unconscious of 
 The scene, or viewing, in its mirroring face, 
 Reflexes only of their own light hearts, 
 This merry troop saw not the shadow cast 
 By melancholy there that spectre dim, 
 That follows nature wheresoe er she dwells, 
 Sadd ning her every smile but in a mood 
 Of jollity, chatting in under tone 
 Of whispered mirth, or half checked gayety, 
 Toward the chapel bent their lightsome steps. 
 And to the portal as they nearer drew, 
 That dimly brought to view the sacred aisle, 
 The little birds up in the old oak trees 
 Poured forth a welcome in a stream of song ; 
 While breathing from the sanctuary, came 
 Issuing forth, the fragrance of fresh flowers, 
 That pious hands had on the altar placed. 
 And now from yon old lofty granite pile, 
 
THE BRIDAL M R X . 123 
 
 The merry, merry wedding bells are ringing, 
 And a gay and lively phantasy seem singing, 
 As if a spirit from the realms of joy and light, 
 Tinman hearts had come to ravish with delight, 
 Or rather seemed it only to impart 
 The faithful echo of the bridegroom s joyous 
 
 heart. 
 But a voice seems wailing from the depths of 
 
 time, 
 
 And it mingles, oh ! how sadly, with that chime. 
 Scattered fragments of a wild prophetic rhyme. 
 
 Chime. 
 
 Happy, happy, happy youth ! 
 Seeing with the eye of truth, 
 And proclaiming all things fair, 
 That the lovely earth doth wear, 
 With a spirit pure and free, 
 Loving life s reality, 
 Time no terrors hath for tliee. 
 
 Voice. 
 There s joy in thy smile, and there s light in 
 
 thine eye, 
 
 Then why struggles up from thy bosom that, 
 sigh? 
 
124: THE BRIDAL MORN. 
 
 Why trembles thy hand, and why blanches thy 
 
 cheek ? 
 
 Happy heart ! in those whispers does joy seem 
 to speak ? 
 
 Chime. 
 
 As to-day thou know st no sorrow, 
 So twill likewise be to-morrow. 
 So with each succeeding sun, 
 Till life s pleasant course be run. 
 
 Voice. 
 
 "Now from the fair east, like a warrior bold, 
 The sun rideth forth in his armor of gold, 
 But ere to their rest the winged songsters shall 
 
 hie, 
 More shadows than one shall pass over the sky. 
 
 Chime. 
 
 Passing all things fair is she, 
 "Whose heart, fond youth, is pledged to thee; 
 Aye ! lovely as in snowy white, 
 The daisies on a mountain height. 
 
 Voice. 
 
 A violet to place in the hair of the bride, 
 Fresh plucked from the bed of green turf at 
 her side, 
 
THE BRIDAL MORN. 125 
 
 Tis bright as the tints of the morning to-day, 
 
 To-morrow twill droop, soon to perish away. 
 
 Chime. 
 
 Life s a gently flowing stream, 
 Life s a sweet untroubled dream, 
 Life s a string of sunny hours, 
 Bright as clew-drops on the flowers, 
 Life is gold without alloy, 
 Full of hope, and love, and joy. 
 Voice. 
 
 Hear ye not the waters moan. 
 
 In a low and wailing tone, 
 
 Ever murmuring on the air, 
 
 Joy is sister-twin to care? 
 
 Doth not every thing betray 
 
 Lights all crossed with shadows grey 
 
 Brightest blossoms everywhere, 
 
 Saddened by the blights tliev bear ? 
 
 v o t/ 
 
 And shall human hearts free, 
 
 o " 
 
 When naught that springs from earth can flee 
 
 The universal destiny? 
 
 Chime. 
 
 In the spring time when sweet May 
 Strewed the fields with flow rets gay, 
 
126 THE BRIDAL MORN. 
 
 Up and down on airy wing, 
 Two gay birds went wandering; 
 And first a wreathy flight they weave, 
 As loath their wild retreat to leave, 
 But soon a bolder flight they take, 
 And skim along the quiet lake, 
 Or upward spring on high to soar, 
 Till back to earth they dip once more, 
 Again to poise to dart to glide, 
 Forever by each other s side. 
 Oh ! in how wild a wantoning 
 They pass the merry days of spring! 
 Youth and maiden, plighted pair, 
 These two birds your shadows are, 
 In their May-day flight ye see 
 Your own unclouded destiny. 
 
 Voice. 
 
 Hark! the winds of winter sigh, 
 Listen ! oh, how mournfully ! 
 As o er blighted fields they stray, 
 Murmuring, summer s passed away 
 Summer with its sun and showers, 
 Grass and dew-drops, birds and flowers 
 Offspring of the fleeting hours ; 
 
THE BRIDAL MORN. 127 
 
 All are gone; and hovering there, 
 
 Like sickly phantoms in the air, 
 
 Shadows now all grey and cold, 
 
 As in a shroud the earth enfold. 
 
 And whence that low and plaintive cry 
 
 That one sad note of agony? 
 
 On yonder stript and withered bough, 
 
 Alas ! the lonely mourner iiow r 
 
 The minstrel whose wild notes of spring, 
 
 JSTo more through woodland haunts shall ring, 
 
 To fly the spot attempts in vain 
 
 And to his perch returns again; 
 
 To linger there disconsolate 
 
 Where last he saw his dying mate. 
 
 Alas ! full soon all hearts shall know 
 
 That joy must ebb as well as flow, 
 
 For never yet was nursed a bliss 
 
 That bore not fruits of bitterness. 
 
 The birds have ceased their Carolina-, 
 
 o" 
 
 The bride has worn the wedding ring, 
 
 o O7 
 
 The nuptial blessing has been given, 
 And registered the rite in heaven. 
 
128 THE BRIDAL MORN. 
 
 Now stay thee, Time! why farther run, 
 "When joy s bright goal this day is won? 
 Or if thy course must onward be, 
 Why drag these happy hearts with thee? 
 * * * * * * * 
 Alas! it was an idle prayer, 
 That day has flown so bright and fair; 
 And many more that sped as fast, 
 Gone down to slumber in the past. 
 
TO MISS K. M. 120 
 
 TO MISS K. M. 
 
 ON HER WEDDING DAY. 
 
 
 
 A BRIGHTER morn, O maiden ! 
 
 K"ow 011 thy pathway beams, 
 Tli an ever shed its joy on tliee, 
 
 In fancy s wildest dreams. 
 The earth has grown more beautiful, 
 
 A balmier air it breathes, 
 As round thy heart a chaplet bright 
 
 Of sunny hopes she wreathes. 
 
 Oh, ever joyful destiny 
 
 Of those who wed with love- 
 A shadow of the perfect state 
 
 Of souls that dwell above! 
 Glad tidings, gentle maiden ! 
 
 This blissful morning brings, 
 From true affection s dropping dew. 
 
 An endless verdure springs. 
 6* 9 
 
130 TO MISS K. M. 
 
 Then sweetly glide thy hours, and when 
 
 Long years have passed away, 
 May every memory be bright, 
 
 That s linked with this bright day. 
 Perchance, you too, may sometimes cast 
 
 A thought of kindly hue, 
 On him who from his exile pens 
 
 These simple lines to you. 
 
CAST DOWN. 131 
 
 CAST DO WIST. 
 
 COLD, listless, dull! what o er my soul hath 
 
 come, 
 
 That day by day, emotionless and dumb, 
 Chained to the earth, a helpless weight I lie? 
 Why, living still, a very stone am I? 
 
 I hear I feel the same broad earth I see, 
 Myself, a parcel of the mystery ! 
 All still remains to point the soul to God. 
 And yet my heart is dead, and I a clod. 
 
 He only who gave nature life and law, 
 And out of nothing deigned my soul to draw, 
 With vital flame can bid this rush-light burn, 
 His hand withdrawn to nothing I return. 
 
 He, then, the King, o er seas that hath com 
 mand, 
 Who holds them in the hollow of his hand, 
 
132 CAST DOWN. 
 
 Who lets the tempest loose, or by whose will 
 The angry waters and the waves are still; 
 
 He tis, whose rule the gathering ages own, 
 Who man s proud nature brings in mercy down, 
 That from his deep abasement he may see, 
 Abandoned thus, how poor a wretch is he. 
 
 "Re-light in me, my God! thy fire divine. 
 Construct anew this prostrate wreck of thine ! 
 One look of love shall all-sufficient be, 
 To lift it up from earth to heaven and Thee. 
 
YELLOW FEVER. 133 
 
 YELLOW FEVEK. 
 
 THE fever fiend ! the fever fiend ! lie comes, 
 make haste to fly; 
 
 Fly all who can, nor stay to swell the low de 
 spairing cry 
 
 Of you poor crouching multitude, whose time 
 has come to die. 
 
 With noiseless tread he stalks among his unre 
 sisting foe, 
 
 Invisible his murd rous blade, but sure the fatal 
 blow, - 
 
 As right and left, with steady hand, he strikes 
 his victims low. 
 
 What frightful thing is this that can the strong 
 man thus restrain, 
 
 Can make him like an infant, weak, can fill his 
 bones with pain, 
 
 His blood can clog with poison, and with mad 
 ness fire his brain? 
 
134 YELLOW FEVER. 
 
 He cometli now whence cometli he? no living 
 man can tell 
 
 We know him only by the slain about our 
 hearths that fell, 
 
 By the rumbling of the dismal hearse, the toll 
 ing of the bell. 
 
 All weathers are alike to him, he scorns the 
 
 tempest s rage, 
 With dauntless front he walks abroad, a deadlier 
 
 war to wage, 
 A dark day s work that night he writes upon 
 
 his bloody page. 
 
 Oh ! one would think, so sweet a breeze as 
 
 this from off the sea, 
 
 With not a cloud to mar the azure continuity, 
 Might gain one day of grace at least alas ! no 
 
 grace grants he. 
 
 A score of sunny days are linked by nights, 
 
 oh! how serene, 
 With skies of strange transparency Avhere not 
 
 a cloud is seen, 
 
YELLOW FEVER. 135 
 
 But fiercer grows the slaughter now than ever 
 it had been. 
 
 N"o day, no night, no time of storm, no calm, 
 
 no sun, no shower, 
 Can stay the fatal pestilence, nor battle with 
 
 its power, 
 Until the Lord of hosts relent, and mark its 
 
 final hour. 
 
136 HOPE AND DESPAIR. 
 
 HOPE AND DESPAIE. 
 
 Hope. 
 
 MORTALS, come along with, me, 
 We will roam futurity. 
 All is happy, all is free, 
 In the bright futurity. 
 Sons of earth, rejoice, rejoice ! 
 Hear ye not Hope s cheering voice ? 
 Mortals mortals, will ye come ? 
 Hope invites* you to her home. 
 Hark! I touch the trembling string, 
 Rich celestial raptures sing, 
 The unborn hour alone can bring. 
 Ye shall loiter in my bowers, 
 Shall eat my fruits, shall plutk rny flowers, 
 Shall drink the nectar of my rill, 
 While odors soft your senses fill. 
 No glossy berries tempting glare, 
 To fill your veins with poison there; 
 
HOPE AND DESPAIR. 137 
 
 No hidden bee with sudden sting, 
 One momentary pang shall bring ; 
 There no unwholesome nauseous drop. 
 With bitterness shall dash your cup, 
 For in my bright enchanted isle, 
 Grief shall grow glad and sorrow smile. 
 Look at the stars in yonder sky, 
 They shine not half so bright as I ; 
 Yon ruined tower, yon aged tree, 
 The moon is veiling mellowly, 
 With molten silver landscape laves, 
 And glitters on the dancing waves. 
 But mortals, mortals, turn to me, 
 Far brighter is futurity. 
 
 Despair. 
 
 Out ! out ! wanton sprite, thou could st never 
 
 yet dare 
 
 To face the dark lowering scowl of Despair. 
 Thy promises vanish like mists from the air, 
 And man finds a haven at last in Despair. 
 Loud, solemn, and deep tolls yon old chapel 
 
 bell, 
 It is ringing thy requiem Hope, fare thee well ! 
 
138 HOPE AND DESPAIR. 
 
 Come along, come along with me, children of 
 
 clay, 
 
 Your life s like a shadow that passeth away ; 
 Yon sun as he rose seemed to smile on your 
 
 birth, 
 But ye mingle at e en with the dust of the 
 
 earth. 
 
 O mortal, O mortal, come wander with me, 
 Along the wild shore of the dark rolling sea, 
 And hear from the depths of my grim rocky 
 
 *,ave, 
 
 The dash of the breaker, the roar of the wave. 
 When clouds in black volumes roll over the sky, 
 And the storm in its fury sweeps fearfully by, 
 Unmoved tliou shalt smile at the terrors of 
 
 night, 
 
 And brood o er thy woes with a savage delight. 
 When the thunder-clap bursts, and the red 
 
 lightnings gleam, 
 
 Thou shalt mingle thy shrieks with the sea- 
 bird s wild scream, 
 And thy laugh, like a demon s, shall ring 
 
 through the air, 
 Oh ! fierce is the triumph that waits on Despair. 
 
HOPE AND DESPAIR. 139 
 
 Observe yonder planet tlie queen of the even, 
 How proudly she walks through the dark vault 
 
 of heaven, 
 
 See ! see ! she is Hearing the Line of yon height, 
 And now she sinks down &tf the "bosom of 
 
 night. 
 
 O 
 
 O man! in that star thy dark destinies gloar, 
 Like her a brief moment your spirit may soar, 
 Like her, too, a frowning horizon you ll near, 
 And seek for repose ,on the night of Despair. 
 
 Hope. 
 
 Gentle spirit, come away, 
 Come into the dawning day. 
 Darkness all around thee lies, 
 Deepening for the sacrifice. 
 Ruin waits to stab thee there, 
 On the altar of Despair. 
 One more victim still to gain 
 For the realms of endless pain. 
 Come, freed spirit, come away, 
 Come into the dawning day. 
 Erst to lure thee and to save, 
 Dreams of earthly bliss I gave, 
 
 r- ;? *TT 
 ,- *A -. V 
 
140 HOPE AND DESPAIR. 
 
 Now to earth no longer cling, 
 
 Earth is but a hollow thing. 
 
 All the joy, and all the woe 
 
 It can give, like shadows go ; 
 
 But thou fihalt, when they re all gone, 
 
 Lean on me, poor lonely one; 
 
 Gently will I soothe thy pain, 
 
 And thy strength renew again, 
 
 Train thy wings to soar with me 
 
 To the land I promised thee ; 
 
 Far away beyond the skies, 
 
 In an endless spring it lies. 
 
 Spirit, come then, come with me, 
 
 Rest thou in eternity. 
 
AFTER AN ILLNESS. 141 
 
 AFTER AN ILLNESS. 
 
 How quiet my eye, and how pale iny cheek, 
 My breathing how low, and my pulse how 
 
 weak, 
 
 I struggle to lift up my head, but in vain, 
 It feebly sinks back on its pillow again. 
 
 But the fire is quenched that but yesterday 
 Was drying the streams of my life away, 
 And like the cool wave as it kisses the shore, 
 The fresh tide of health is returning once more. 
 
 From the wild dreams of phrensy my spirit 
 
 awakes, 
 And on me the morn of sweet consciousness 
 
 breaks, 
 
 To the music of earth once again I m alive, 
 And my heart overflows as my senses revive. 
 
142 AFTER AN" ILLNESS. 
 
 My friends are about me, now quiet their tread 
 As they softly steal up to the side of my bed, 
 To take my thin hand in their own to be 
 
 pressed, 
 And with words of encouragement gladden my 
 
 breast. 
 
 Come pillow me up in my easy chair, 
 And let me be placed where the pure fresh air 
 Of heaven, may play o er my fevered skin, 
 And woo the red streams from their fountain 
 within. 
 
 Bright, beautiful world! once again I behold 
 
 Thy glorious day-sky of azure and gold, 
 
 Thy mountains, thy trees, thy gay streams, thy 
 
 green sod, 
 All preaching alike of the glory of God. 
 
 Why dost thou, my soul, at life s ills so repine, 
 And forget all the wonderful gifts that are 
 
 thine? 
 
 Be mindful that God in his wisdom employs 
 Afflictions as showers to freshen our joys. 
 
MEMORY OF CHILDHOOD. 143 
 
 MEMOKY OF CHILDHOOD 
 
 COME, Memory ! mistress as thou art 
 
 Of sweetest chords to move my heart, 
 
 "Who canst beguile each wayward mood, 
 
 That grieves my own loved solitude, 
 
 Come, let rne nestle close to thee, 
 
 My sweet companion, Memory ; 
 
 And lie entranced from hour to hour, 
 
 "Within thy world-excluding bower. 
 
 Aladdin-like thy lamp supplies 
 
 What most my soul hath learned to prize, 
 
 Its piercing, penetrating ray 
 
 Illumes life s dim and faded way, 
 
 And through the shadowy haze of years, 
 
 The long-forgotten past appears 
 
 The Past, far pleasanter to me 
 
 Than dark, unknown Futurity, 
 
 Where hope and fear alternate rise, 
 
 To rule her ever-changing skies. 
 
144 MEMORY OF CHILDHOOD. 
 
 Sweet mistress of the lonely hour, 
 By thee detained with dreamy lore 
 Of other days, I seem again 
 Transported to my native glen ; 
 Again I frisk through forests wild, 
 Where once I roved a happy child, 
 Light, careless, gay, and ever free 
 As the inconstant honey bee, 
 That wand ring on from flower to flower. 
 Lights on a hundred in an hour. 
 Thus does wild youth its sports pursue, 
 And ever flies to what is new ; 
 Pleasures are only won to cloy, 
 Or dropped to seize some brighter joy. 
 With thee, sweet Memory, for my guide, 
 Thus back to fairy-land I glide, 
 Where I was wont from meadows gay, 
 To cull the brightest flowers of May, 
 Or over hill and valley hie, 
 To catch the bright-winged butterfly. 
 But if, while innocence and truth 
 Smiled on my bright and happy youth, 
 Some pigmy grief chanced to pursue 
 For childhood has its sorrows too 
 
MEMORY OF CHILDHOOD. 
 
 I d sit me down and weep the while, 
 But soon would come a cheery smile, 
 That quickly chased my tears away, 
 And I once more was blithe and gay. 
 
 Thus gushes free my heart in praise, 
 When I review those dear old days, 
 When virtue with her mild control, 
 Guided aright my untaught soul, 
 Kept from my path all guilt or care, 
 That after many a stormy year, 
 I yet might find, at least in tliee, 
 One blameless joy, dear Memory! 
 
 7 10 
 
146 THE DYING GIRL. 
 
 THE D.YING GIRL TO HER 
 LOVER. 
 
 A SONG. 
 
 Too late, ah ! dearest one, too late, 
 
 Thou comest to thine own again ; 
 Alas ! to die is my sad fate, 
 
 Why, why must bliss thus end in pain ? 
 They parted us ah ! doom too sure 
 
 To leave me thus in grief to pine ! 
 Thy fondness now can ne er restore 
 
 This pale and wasted form of mine. 
 
 But better thus, at life s last hour, 
 
 To know that thou dost love me still, 
 Than linger on, a faded flower, 
 
 Touched by a blight that could not kill. 
 Fast fade those features dear of thine, 
 
 No more I mark thy anxious eye, 
 Then press thy warm sweet lips to mine, 
 
 And let me thus in rapture die. 
 
MORNING, 147 
 
 M O K tf I N G . 
 
 Tis day, tis day, for hark! I hear 
 
 The joyous voice of chanticleer ; 
 
 He tosses high his coral crest, 
 
 He flaps his wings, he ruffs his breast, 
 
 And proudly seems the while to say, 
 
 As loud he winds his clarion gay, 
 
 "I m the glad herald of the day." 
 
 The first faint gleam of grey now flies 
 In silver streaks athwart the skies, 
 Night s sahle veil asunder tears, 
 When lo ! yon eastern height appears, 
 With web of light about it spread 
 And stars thick clustering round its head, 
 But these, like pearls on field of jet 
 That grace a queenly coronet, 
 At every instant grow less bright, 
 And one by one dissolve in light, 
 At whose soft touch night s paling woof 
 Shrinks from the heavens o erarching roof. 
 
148 MORNING. 
 
 And o er yon hills, whose bases lie 
 In formless, dim uncertainty, 
 But rising from the shadowy night, 
 Their outline lies in glimmering light, 
 Long wavy clouds are seen to flare 
 Like pennants streaming to the air. 
 Through every hue their color flies, 
 As when the changing dolphin dies ; 
 A rosy blush an instant seen 
 An orange glows where it had been, 
 And yellow melting into green. 
 And as we mark each flying hue, 
 That tender*, mild, delicious blue, 
 That only when the skies are clear 
 May tinge the mellow atmosphere, 
 Appears, absorbing all the rest, 
 And smiling spreads from east to west. 
 A golden glory far and near, 
 N"ow fires the orient hemisphere, 
 A broader, brighter circle throws, 
 Until from pole to pole it glows, 
 And blazing Phoebus, upward whirled, 
 Sheds lustre o er a waking world. 
 
 But turn from Phoebus and the skies, 
 
MORNING. 14:9 
 
 New beauties in the landscape rise. 
 Upon the wood-sprung zephyr-tide, 
 The mists career the mountain side ; 
 And setting o er yon dark ravine, 
 Through their grey depths no longer seen, 
 In crowded phalanx there await 
 The certain issue of their fate ; 
 For in a thousand shadowy forms, 
 They vanish as the morning warms. 
 And tumbling down the broken steep, 
 Bright sparkling cascades headlong leap, 
 Which coursing, as they fall below, 
 The winding vale, their murmuring now 
 
 O O 
 
 Commingles with the melody 
 Of warbling throats from brake and tree, 
 And far off sheep-bell s tinkling note, 
 And sound of woodman s axe remote, 
 And insects droning symphony. 
 While the shrill mountain clarion clear, 
 That quivering cleaves the dewy air, 
 Startles fleet echo from the woods, 
 Her shades and dreamy solitudes, 
 Who, shy, retreats the vale along, 
 Yet with gay mischief on her tongue. 
 
150 MORNING. 
 
 Repeats each sound with sweet decay, 
 Fainter, as fast she flies away. 
 
 Now let ns climb to yonder height, 
 And give expansion to the sight. 
 O er rolling woods, whose stately trees 
 In bending grace obey the breeze, 
 The ravished eye dilated bounds 
 O er miles of cultivated grounds, 
 Fields of ripe grain and meads in flower, 
 With cottage homes all dotted o er 
 Homes that repay for all their toil, 
 The happy tillers of the soil. 
 Such scenes the generous sonl must fire, 
 And elevating thoughts inspire. 
 Who can behold so fair a show, 
 Nor feel his breast with fervor glow? 
 With tenderer charities inclined 
 T ward all the race of human kind ; 
 And t ward that bounteous God above, 
 Who ever guards us with his love, 
 A gratitude without alloy, 
 For all the blessings we enjoy. 
 
NIGHT. 151 
 
 JSTIGHT. 
 
 NIGHT ! gentle queen of life s far sweeter half, 
 
 Mild mistress of the meditative mind ! 
 
 To thee, beneath whose deep enchanting power, 
 
 The minstrels of all ages and all climes 
 
 Have their enamored souls poured forth in 
 
 song ; 
 
 To thee, while music strikes her stirring chords. 
 That in sweet modulations rise and fall 
 Upon the evening medium still, I ll weave 
 A simple lay. 
 
 The sunset glow is passed, 
 The purple eve has faded into grey, 
 And twilight dim has gone to hide herself 
 Within thy folding robe of silence and 
 Repose. The stars that speak of heaven and 
 
 God, 
 
 Are clustered in thy bosom: the new moon- 
 Pale crescent sits upon thy brow, and o er 
 The noiseless world a silvery lustre sheds, 
 
152 NIGHT. 
 
 Soft as the mellow calm that crept at eve 
 Through Eden s happy groves. And not a 
 
 sound 
 
 Is heard save such as swell the melody 
 That saturates, like balm of summer flowers, 
 The depths of nature save the murmu rings of 
 The distant waterfall, the droning hum 
 Of insects, or the whisperings of the breeze. 
 Oh ! what a time to listen to the voice 
 Of Memory, as she whispers of the past, 
 Once loved so well, but now, alas ! no more. 
 The troops of friends that thronged the busy 
 
 field, 
 Through which life s pathway wound, where 
 
 are they now ? 
 Gone from the earth like mists from off the 
 
 hills. 
 
 Some lie unhonored in a stranger land, 
 With not a stone to mark their last sad place 
 Of rest ; others have found a watery grave, 
 Food for the monsters of the deep ; while some 
 Still bear the onerous charge of life, tired of 
 Their burdens, yet reluctant to depart. 
 
 But not on such sad themes, beneath thy smile 
 
XI GUT. 153 
 
 O placid Night ! will memory linger long. 
 Pleasures, whose bare remembrance gives them 
 
 back 
 
 To be enjoyed again, rush fast and thick 
 Upon the expanding heart. Who doth not 
 
 mind 
 
 The moonlight rambles with the gentle maid 
 That won his early vow his gaze intense 
 Of soft beseeching, and the blush that gave 
 In silent eloquence its sweet response ? 
 Happy thrice happy season! once enjoyed, 
 No counterpart e er comes a single spot 
 Of green in the wild waste of life, the past 
 Unclouded by the shadow of regret, 
 The future radiant as the glory of 
 The morning star. 
 
 And holy is the theme, 
 To which, sweet Night! tliou lov st to lead 
 
 along 
 
 The home of childhood. But a few short years 
 Have sped away, since the first dawn of life, 
 When infancy awoke to consciousness, 
 And consciousness expanding, clust ring bore 
 The buds that quickly opened into joys 
 
154 NIGHT. 
 
 Joys that the home of childhood only knows 
 Pure joys and ripe, that in a countless throng, 
 Through the young unchecked heart come 
 
 capering 
 After each other in a merry chase. 
 
 But why explore the regions of the past, 
 In search of gems to string the strand of life? 
 When with each little instant, ere it flies, 
 The bounteous hand of heaven opes for man 
 New channels of delight, showering down 
 Its gifts, alike upon the lofty and 
 The low. Night tunes the soul to rapturous 
 
 joy ; 
 
 For here beneath this cloudless canopy, 
 Where all creation wears the sober garb 
 Of peace, the heart, its restless passions laid, 
 And all its warring tumults stilled, assumes 
 A corresponding tone, and eager drinks 
 The luxury of the beautiful and good. 
 The day may have its feverish delights, 
 Its train of fierce excitements and pursuits, 
 But when the noisy and tumultuous world 
 Is hushed in sleep, when the last sounds of 
 mirth 
 
NIGHT. 155 
 
 Have died, and thoughtless gayety sinks down 
 Exhausted from her giddy round, then is 
 The hour the holy hour for memory, 
 For meditation, and for God. 
 
156 SPIRIT OF THE NIGHT WIND. 
 
 SPIKIT OF THE NIGHT 
 WIND. 
 
 DAYLIGHT S last ray expiring, 
 Leaves of the real but a dream behind, 
 Then whither but to its own depths retiring, 
 
 Shall turn my drooping mind? 
 
 Like a dark prison seeming, 
 Stagnant and dull this world my soul enthralls, 
 That fain would go into the light that s beam 
 ing 
 
 Beyond life s stony walls. 
 
 Yet while these fancies nursing, 
 
 in 
 
 Still dwells the spirit in tktf house of clay, 
 And here with nature finds herself conversing, 
 In the old familiar way. 
 
SPIRIT OF THE NIGHT WIND. 157 
 
 Tims while the still earth lying 
 Asleep in night s cool dew, methinks I hear 
 The spirit of the wind, in whispers sighing 
 
 Sweet counsel in my ear. 
 
 And thus it seems reproving: 
 " Why stands a mortal musing here alone ? 
 As if the vain regrets his heart now moving, 
 
 None but himself had known. 
 
 " Over the far earth roaming, 
 No nook so hidden but tis known to me; 
 Now from the mountain s breezy summit 
 coming, 
 
 Now from the booming sea. 
 
 "There s not a human dwelling 
 Be it the hut where crime and want are wed, 
 Or gilded dome where pride s vain heart is 
 swelling 
 
 That I ve not visited. 
 
 " Seeking, but never finding 
 One spot so guarded that the serpent care 
 
158 SPIRIT OF THE NIGHT WIND. 
 
 Could come not in, through treacherous path 
 ways winding, 
 To deal its venom there. 
 
 "Behind a trellis gliding, 
 
 While streamed the yellow moonlight from above, 
 I ve heard the beatings of two hearts confiding 
 
 In their summer dream of love. 
 
 " Time, oil ! how soon departing ; 
 A twelvemonth passes, and I seek once more 
 That spot the moonbeams bright as ever dart 
 ing 
 
 Down down on the cold floor ; 
 
 " But with love s warm flood heaving, 
 Why do I hear no more their hearts full beat ? 
 Alas! one only lives she for her lover griev 
 ing 
 
 He in his winding-sheet. 
 
 " Morn s faint grey glimmer creeping 
 Through the white curtains round them closely 
 drawn, 
 
SPIRIT OF THE NIGHT WIND. 159 
 
 I ve seen upon a mother s bosom sleeping, 
 An infant newly born. 
 
 " Her loving eye was watching 
 Her treasure with a grateful, gushing joy, 
 Unconscious that an icy hand was touching 
 
 The forehead of her boy. 
 
 " Alas ! on all sides turning, 
 The fatal truth is found still written there 
 Each human heart has its own secret yearn 
 ing, 
 
 Each has its cross to bear. 
 
 "The nun her decades telling, 
 In cell retired the holy man of prayer, 
 The youth, his heart with mad ambition swell 
 ing, 
 
 Fame s idle wreath to wear; 
 
 "The haughty monarch reigning, 
 The merchant with his ships and freighted store, 
 The houseless wanderer his cold morsel gaining 
 
 As he begs from door to door 
 
160 SPIRIT OF THE NIGHT WIND. 
 
 " All would of joy be reaping, 
 But with the grain wild grass too must fall, 
 And sin s rank vines that round the heart come 
 creeping 
 
 The curse alike of all. 
 
 " Vain, then, is all repining ; 
 The thorn still rankles wheresoever we roam ; 
 Until at last life s weary weight resigning, 
 
 The wanderer finds his home." 
 
 To a sweet cadence bringing 
 Its song, the night wind wanders on its way, 
 But still the burden in my ear is ringing, 
 
 And ever seems to say, 
 
 In gentle tones reproving : 
 " Why stands a mortal musing here alone ? 
 As if the vain regrets his heart now moving, 
 but himself had known." 
 
TO MISS H. McT. 161 
 
 TO MISS H. McT. 
 
 YOUTH magic word ! that o er the spirit brings 
 Those dreamy visions of departed days 
 
 Those images of bright and lovely things 
 That brief, sweet season of our smiles and 
 tears ; 
 
 Oft when the cares that in life s pathway 
 spring, 
 
 As time rolls on and steals our years away, 
 Upon my brow their gloomy shadows fling, 
 
 Thou dartest to my soul a sunny ray. 
 
 And like the birds that fly from wintry wind, 
 
 O er stormy seas to find a summer home; 
 My spirit leaves its present ills behind, 
 
 In fancy o er youth s summer scenes to roam 
 11 
 
162 TO MISS H. McT. 
 
 The bright, unclouded gayety of youth, 
 The joyous sparkle of a childish eye, 
 
 Springs from the fount of purity and truth. 
 And claims my heart s o erflowing sympathy. 
 
 But most I feel, dear girl, for one like thee, 
 Whose dreams of childhood tho forever gone, 
 
 Have left thee still thy sinless purity, 
 
 And beauty, too, and youth to call thine own. 
 
 Oft as I gaze upon thy smiling brow, 
 
 I wish a happier fate thy days may crown, 
 
 Than tis the lot of mortals oft to know, 
 
 And that thy youth may prove an endless 
 one. 
 
A XIGHT IT SEA. 163 
 
 A ]S T IGHT AT SEA. 
 
 DARK is the night, the fiendish winds are howl 
 ing fitfully; 
 
 In inky mountains lifts itself, the hideous, hiss 
 ing sea; 
 
 But fear, my heart can touch not, love! if 
 thou but lowest me. 
 
 Still drives the storm ; oh, trying hour ! in bark 
 
 so frail to be 
 Thus plunging lielmless through the dark to 
 
 brave a maddened sea; 
 But fear thee not, my precious one ; no harm 
 
 shall come to thee. 
 
 The timbers crack, each sail is rent, still higher 
 
 leaps the sea; 
 Loud, and yet louder shrieks the blast in wild 
 
 and mocking glee ; 
 But high above the storm doth Heaven keep 
 
 watch o er thee and me. 
 
164: A NIGHT AT SEA. 
 
 Who knows ! Our shattered bark may yet ride 
 
 on the gale and be, 
 Ere breaks to-morrow s dawning light, from 
 
 every danger free; 
 With sails all set to win the breeze the land 
 
 upon our lee. 
 
 Come closer to my heart, my love, my love 
 
 that lovest me; 
 And if o erwhelmed the ship goes down, we ll 
 
 yet united be, 
 Nor fear another stormy night, through all 
 
 eternity. 
 
THE TWO WORLDS. 1G5 
 
 THE TWO W O K L D S . 
 
 WHAT seems this world to me? in one bold 
 
 point 
 
 Of view, I see it as a rolling sphere, 
 On which I headlong plunge through trackless 
 
 space, 
 Like a wild courser in his mad career. 
 
 Yet all the while she seems to stand unmoved, 
 The centre of a fathomless domain ; 
 
 Wherein sun, moon, and stars revolving seem, 
 Around their queen, as her attendant train. 
 
 Again she seems, in quiet majesty, 
 
 To lead the seasons of each coining year 
 
 Stern winter smiling, budding, blushing 
 
 spring 
 Kipe summer aumtun all in turn appear. 
 
166 THE TWO WORLDS. 
 
 I see her in her flowing robe of flowers, 
 Or like a brooding bird upon her nest, 
 
 Mid foliage rich and motionless, as tranced 
 In noonday dreams she lies at rest. 
 
 O er hoary forests seems she now to reign. 
 
 Dark as the shadowy brow of night ; where 
 
 broods 
 The silence of a hundred centimes, 
 
 Unbroken in those mighty solitudes. 
 
 And then she comes in evening mood, when 
 
 low 
 The pale new moon, upon yon western 
 
 hill, 
 
 Hangs like a silver lamp of transient hope, 
 "With gleams at least of joy, lone hearts to 
 fill. 
 
 I see her in my waking hours; in dreams 
 She visiteth the dreary realms of night, 
 
 To people them with forms of loveliness, 
 Such as the seraphs are who dwell J VL 
 light. 
 
THE TWO WORLDS. 167 
 
 Yet oft, alas ! when e en this peerless earth 
 To my bruised spirit can no balm impart, 
 
 I turn for solace to that little world, 
 That hides itself within my silent heart. 
 
 For e en mid ruins mouldering in decay, 
 Some flower unblighted still the spot may 
 bear ; 
 
 And in my heart something may yet remain, 
 To say to me, that all niy world is there. 
 
168 CONSTANCY. 
 
 CONSTANCY. 
 
 Tis man s dull way to prate that constancy 
 Belongeth not to anglit of womankind ; 
 That with the gentler sex, over the grave 
 Of one dead fancy yet another climbs, 
 Which in its turn lies buried with the rest. 
 Yet is there oft beneath the outward form 
 Of woman s perishable loveliness, 
 A soul that lifteth up its latch but once, 
 And letting enter but a single guest, 
 Closeth its gates and casts the key away. 
 O Love ! how strong in such a soul art thou ! 
 For with a chain of adamantine strength, 
 Thou girdest it around with closest ties, 
 That loosen not while life s warm currents flow. 
 O Love ! how bright in such a soul art thou ! 
 Bright as the lightning in a midnight cloud, 
 But flashing not like it, one moment ere 
 It dies : for as the sun, in torrid climes, 
 
CONSTANCY. 169 
 
 Ne er suffers eartli to cool, and only sinks 
 At night, that purest dews from heaven may 
 Descend, and freshen every tender plant ; 
 Thus doth the full uprisen orb of love 
 Warm into life, and to perfection bring 
 A thousand rich, luxuriant evergreens, 
 That know no frost, no cold autumnal blasts ; 
 That nourishment imbibe from bitterest tears, 
 And sturdier grow in sorrow s darkest hour. 
 O Love ! how pure in such a soul art tliou ! 
 Self, with its subtile dye, discoloreth not 
 Thy crystal depths, transparent as the light, 
 "Wherein are treasured aspirations pure, 
 And holy thoughts, and generous resolves, 
 Such as the angels look on and are glad. 
 Light but that spark, what if her passion s vain, 
 She still loves on still garners in her soul 
 The memory of a once fond bein^. though 
 
 v O" f> 
 
 Perchance he may have proved as faithless as 
 The fickle wind, that sighs awhile upon 
 Some tender flower, then leaves it there to die 
 Or he to whom confiding! V she duns , 
 
 o / " o" 
 
 Though faithful to the last, may yet have gone 
 Upon the summons of an early doom. 
 
170 CONSTANCY. 
 
 Yet e en this cruel blow the flame outlives, 
 And burns with secret fire tho life be dead ; 
 Or lingering on, despoiled- of hope, to bring 
 At last a willing victim to the tomb 
 The easy gate through which her soul, set free, 
 Rejoins its kindred essence in the skies. 
 
 Nor is she changed when hope s fulfilled, and 
 
 all 
 
 Is prosperous ; the bark in which is borne 
 Her soul s best prize, 011 time s rough sea s 
 
 ne er wrecked, 
 
 Nor led by cunning wiles and smooth deceits, 
 Into the vortex of inconstancy ; 
 Days, weeks, and years serve only to increase 
 Its precious freight of rich, delicious joy. 
 
RHYMES ABOUT THE CABLE. 171 
 
 KHYMES ABOUT THE CABLE 
 
 UP, up ! and let s hasten away 
 
 Through tlie canon of ages to climb, 
 
 Till we sit by the fountains that play 
 At the very head-waters of time. 
 
 "Where chaos, cold, formless, and dead, 
 In a pall of black midnight was hung, 
 
 Till creation her smiling first-born 
 From the womb of eternity sprung. 
 
 Here 011 the dread confines of space,- 
 All silent and awe-struck we stand, 
 
 As the fair earth from nothing comes forth 
 Into lisjlit at its Maker s command. 
 
 O 
 
 Then mark, mid the wonders w r e see, 
 
 That in his inscrutable plan, 
 One hemisphere only he gives 
 
 To be trodden by footstep of man. 
 
172 RHYMES ABOUT THE CABLE. 
 
 The other in solitude dwells 
 
 Far out o er the unexplored main, 
 
 And the waters that gulf the great deep, 
 He has bidden to sunder the twain. 
 
 And not until ages shall roll, 
 And Adam s race multiplied be, 
 
 As the leaves of the forests of earth, 
 As the sands in the drifts of the sea, 
 
 Shall the great Ocean Prophet go forth 
 With faith s lofty banner unfurled, 
 
 To fathom the fearful unknown, 
 
 And give to mankind a New World. 
 
 Where scattered broad-cast shall upspring 
 The seed of the old fatherland 
 
 Thirty million new hearts to unfold, 
 And unite to the family band. 
 
 And the white sail shall swell to the wind, 
 As with greetings it goes and returns : 
 
 But dull seems the breeze to the mind 
 That expects, or the bosom that burns. 
 
RHYMES ABOUT THE CABLE. 
 
 And what if, outwinging the wind, 
 
 The steamers sweep over the sea? 
 E en the flight of the carrier-bird 
 
 O 
 
 Must too slow for this century be. 
 
 For our kindred are over the deep, 
 And daily we d wish them God -speed; 
 
 So the Cable once more must be laid, 
 The Great Enterprise must succeed. 
 
 Thus the lightning is made to come down, 
 
 And under the ocean to run ; 
 To thrill like a delicate nerve 
 
 Of sensation and motion in one; 
 
 Till two worlds, with an ocean between, 
 Respond like the bells of a chime ; 
 
 Or as two gentle lovers converse 
 To the sweet beating pulses of time. 
 
 O wondrous invention of man ! 
 
 Usurping the province of thought, 
 That the uttermost ends of the earth 
 
 May in closest communion be brought. 
 
FOR ALL BUT ME. 
 
 FOE ALL BUT ME. 
 
 THE cool, sweet morning air comes breathing 
 
 on me, 
 With store of fragrance from the world of 
 
 flowers ; 
 
 I hear the quavering trill of birds beguiling, 
 "With honied strains, the bright but fleeting 
 
 hours. 
 
 How fair and happy seems this world to be, 
 Alas ! for all but me. 
 
 Voices I hear in various converse joining, 
 
 Beneath my window as they come and go, 
 And some in cheerful tones and some in laugh 
 ter, 
 
 And some in tender accents, sweet and low. 
 Drops yet of joy there seem for all to be, 
 Alas ! why not for me ! 
 
FOE ALL BUT ME. 175 
 
 Hark ! how the church bell in its turret swiner- 
 
 o 
 
 in , 
 Flings on the air its voice full toned and 
 
 deep, 
 
 A tranquil peace to countless bosoms bringing, 
 That never jet have learnt what tis to weep. 
 Full oft again twill ring out merrily, 
 
 But not, alas, for me ! 
 
 Adown the viewless track of time I m gliding, 
 And earth s rich beauties all around me 
 
 glow ; 
 A glorious walk it seems for all abiding 
 
 In the valley we are treading here below. 
 But there s a land they call eternity, 
 
 Brighter, I hope, for me ! 
 
176 LITTLE TOMMY. 
 
 LITTLE TOMMY. 
 
 How strange to us the ways of God ! 
 
 How quick is grief to grow ! 
 And hearts without a warning word. 
 
 Their first afflictions know. 
 
 1 saw a group with smiling looks, 
 That told the joy they felt ; 
 
 Love filled the sunny atmosphere 
 "With light wherein they dwelt. 
 
 A sweeter scene of quiet peace, 
 
 My fancy never drew 
 The father and the mother, and 
 
 Those little brothers two. 
 
 Oh sudden came the mandate 
 
 From the chancery above, 
 To shatter, like a thunderbolt, 
 
 That shrine of life and love ! 
 
LITTLE TOMMY. ITT 
 
 The youngest and the fairest 
 The pearl the precious flower 
 
 The mother s darling little pet. 
 Ah, pitiful the hour ! 
 
 Dropped like a blossom from a tree, 
 
 And passed from earth away, 
 Yet never more to suffer 
 
 In this vesture frail of clay. 
 
 Weep not for him, poor mother ; 
 
 Twas thy God, who knows thy pain, 
 That gave him, and His blessed will 
 
 That calls him back again. 
 
 Lift up thy drooping spirit high, 
 
 Thy loving Lord adore, 
 And "Father," say, "Thy will be done, 
 
 IXow and forever more." 
 
 For precious priceless is the grace, 
 On bruised ones that s poured, 
 
 Who in their hour of darkness come 
 To lean upon their Lord. 
 
 8* 12 
 
178 THOUGHTS OF HEAVEN. 
 
 THOUGHTS OF HE A YEN. 
 
 To him who bounding not with narrow view, 
 His vision, to the cold, dull things of earth, 
 But who, with eye of faith, reaches beyond 
 The illusive promises of pleasure, fame, 
 Or power, with steadfast soul to rest upon 
 The thought of an eternity beyond, 
 There s not a gleam on the flood tide of hope, 
 Swimming before him, that with readier glance 
 His eye discerns, than that bright moment, 
 
 when, 
 
 Mortality cast off, w r ith all its cruel stings 
 Of blight and sorrow^, care, mistrust, and woe, 
 He, soul-freed as from dismal dreams shall wake ; 
 Aye, w^ake to brimful joy, in greetings with 
 Those dear companions of his heart, from whom 
 He parted one by one on life s dull shore. 
 Glorious reunion, and so sure the bond ; 
 Free, too, each heart, and gushing as his own. 
 
THOUGHTS OF HEAYEN. 179 
 
 All coldness gone; all old estrangements dead; 
 All grievous wounds healed up without a scar, 
 And every thing most prized now perfect grown. 
 Ah ! could we but in bright, unshadowed view 
 This vision keep, how easy were the task, 
 By God imposed, to labor to the end; 
 Losing, in hopes of heaven, all painful sense 
 Of present ills, planting the pathway to 
 The grave with flowers, and at each step to 
 ward 
 
 That narrow house, seeing, without regret, 
 Another stone fall in to fill the chasm 
 That lies between us and eternity. 
 
180 SUNDAY EVENING. 
 
 SUNDAY EYEXIXG. 
 
 " Six days," saith the Lord, " slialt tliou labor, 
 
 Six out of the seven are thine ; 
 Six to sow, and to reap, and to gather ; 
 
 But remember the seventh is mine." 
 
 He hath said it, the Lord and the Master, 
 But man knoweth better than He, 
 
 For he grudgeth his maker His fraction, 
 And frowns at His loving decree. 
 
 Oh! weary the hearts that are wasting, 
 
 And wearing their tissues away, 
 Because of the hard and the selfish, 
 
 Who heed not the Lord s blessed day. 
 
 So the sun t ward the ocean is sinking, 
 And morning s bright hours have all gone, 
 
 Consecrated to rest and devotion, 
 
 Ere the task they have set me is done. 
 
SUNDAY EVENING. 181 
 
 But at length I have crept from my prison, 
 From my fetters awhile to be free, 
 
 From the din of the hive I have wandered 
 To the hills that look out o er the sea. 
 
 To these hills that rise up from the waters. 
 
 So cold and so silent and lone, 
 That they seem to respond to my sadness 
 
 From hearts that are sad as my own. 
 
 Here I sit while the hushed hours are leaving 
 Scarce even their shadows for me, 
 
 Till the great fiery globe slowly sinketli 
 In the depths of the violet sea; 
 
 Till the night s wide pavilion descendeth, 
 
 And silence sits under her pall, 
 And seems in the dread supernatural, 
 My soul by its touch to enthrall ; 
 
 Till the stars their bright radiance are darting 
 From the depths of the dark dome above 
 
 As brilliant as sparkles the hoar frost, 
 But cold as a home without love. 
 
182 SUNDAY EVENING. 
 
 Yet steadily rest they upon me, 
 So pure in their passionless gaze, 
 
 That from earth and its dulness they draw me, 
 To God and his wonderful ways. 
 
 For He saith that the poor are His children, 
 As well as the mighty and grand, 
 
 That for them, too, He scatters Plis blessings, 
 As the sower the seed from his hand. 
 
 Then peace, murm ring heart, in all "bosoms 
 Joy mingles its measure with care ; 
 
 So the rich and the poor should be brothers, 
 For both have their burdens to bear. 
 
 On the breeze from the bay s rippling bosom, 
 Comes the hum of the city again, 
 
 And as night s deep ning shadows close round 
 
 me, 
 I return to the dwellings of men. 
 
EVENING HYMN. 183 
 
 EVENING II Y MIST. 
 
 THE evening stillness sweetly steals 
 O er earth and air ; 
 
 The vesper chimes, in solemn peals, 
 The hour of prayer ; 
 
 While with rapt hearts and bended knee, 
 
 We chant our evening hymn to thee, 
 Virgin Bless d, to thee ! 
 
 The birds with music sweet, no more 
 
 The forest fill ; 
 The melody of day is o er, 
 
 All, all is still ; 
 Save that in holy harmony, 
 We chant our evening hymn to thee, 
 
 Virgin Bless d to thee! 
 
EVENING HYMN. 
 
 Virgin Mother, linger near, 
 
 Our prayers approve, 
 
 And upward to our Father bear 
 Our words of love, 
 
 While robed in faith our souls agree 
 
 To chant our evening hymn to thee. 
 
 Virgin Bless d, to thee! 
 
AUBURN, MY HOME 185 
 
 AUBURN, MY HOME. 
 
 AH ! darker still settles the gloom on my brow, 
 
 As long years creep cheerlessly on ; 
 And sadly I turn from the dark picture now, 
 
 Of a life whose bright hopes have all gone ; 
 For the voices that once were so sweet to my ear, 
 
 Hushed and silent forever must keep, 
 And the friends of my youth, to my bosom so 
 dear, 
 
 Keath the green sod of Auburn now sleep. 
 
 For me the bright waters of life s joyous stream 
 
 Shall glitter and sparkle no more ; 
 Of its once cheerful sunlight there s scarce a 
 
 faint gleam 
 
 Left to gladden its desolate shore. 
 But though the dark billows between us now 
 
 roll, 
 
 And sad though my spirit must be, 
 Sweet solace, dear Auburn, my world-wearied 
 
 soul 
 Still finds in its memories of thee. 
 
186 DESOLATION. 
 
 DES OL ATIOX. 
 
 SHRIEK, cold wind, shriek! 
 
 O er this hill-top bleak, 
 Never cease with your w r oeful wail 
 
 Through the jagged lines 
 
 Of the tall, dark pines, 
 As they shake in the icy gale. 
 
 And past is the fright 
 Of the long, wild night, 
 
 As it lifts up its horrible pall ; 
 And the snow and sleet, 
 Like a winding sheet, 
 
 Have covered the mountains all. 
 
 And the eagle swings 
 On his mighty wings, 
 
 And screams in the clear blue sky, 
 As he rushes past, 
 In the whirl of the blast, 
 
 To his white-hooded crag on high. 
 
DESOLATION. 187 
 
 And wretched and lone 
 
 On this frozen stone, 
 Sits one who is longing to lie 
 
 By her side who was laid 
 
 In the grave that they made 
 Last night ere the storm came by. 
 
188 HOPE. 
 
 HOPE. 
 
 HOPE, like a mocking spectre, lingers last 
 Among the fragments of a ruined life ; 
 And, ever and anon, drags the dark soul 
 Out of itself, pointing fallaciously 
 To images of joy ne er to be realized. 
 
EVA. 189 
 
 E YA. 
 
 EVA, Eva, on thy brow, 
 Why that brooding shadow now? 
 Why that filling, swimming eye, 
 Quivering lip and broken sigh? 
 
 Come, my dove ! 
 
 Mood like this should ne er be thine ; 
 Place thy little hand in mine. 
 Set at once thy secret free, 
 Give thy bosom all to me. 
 
 Wilt thou, love? 
 
 Spoke no word the pretty creature ; 
 
 Sadness still touched every feature ; 
 
 Twas as clear as crystal water, 
 
 That the green-eyed ghoul had brought her 
 Into trouble. 
 
 Then unto my heart I drew her ; 
 
 Whispered earnest words unto her ; 
 
 Strove to show by soft persuasion, 
 
 Twas a mere infatuation- 
 All a bubble. 
 
190 EYA. 
 
 Half she smiled, then through her pouting, 
 Half convinced, and yet half doubting. 
 Oh what mischief may arise 
 From a pair of midnight eyes ! 
 
 If another s 
 
 Bright and blue ones should discover, 
 Or but fancy that her lover 
 Sipped a single drop of pleasure 
 From the jetty liquid measure 
 
 Of the other s. 
 
IV. 
 
 GRANDMAMMA S 
 CHRISTMAS TALE 
 
CHRISTMAS TALE. 193 
 
 GKA?s T D MAMMA S CHEISTMAS 
 TALE. 
 
 i. 
 
 On ! we youngsters were a merry set, a keeping 
 
 Christmas night 
 
 In the parlor snug and cozy, where the fire 
 blazed warm and bright ; 
 
 And in cushioned easy chair, 
 Grandmamma sat dozing there, 
 Quite unconscious, tho the fun was at its height. 
 
 n. 
 But at length we quiet grew, then cried a rosy 
 
 little elf, 
 
 "This is stupid, let s have grandma s tale, tis 
 all about herself; 
 
 To her promise she shall keep, 
 So let s rouse her from her sleep; 
 If she s angry, why, I ll bear the blame myself." 
 9 13 
 
194: CHRISTMAS TALE. 
 
 III. 
 Then the saucy creature pulled the dear old 
 
 lady s apron string, 
 
 On whose cheek was smacked a kiss that made 
 the very ceiling ring, 
 
 While she lifted up her eyes, 
 With a look of half surprise, 
 And a smile that gentlest heart alone could bring. 
 
 IV. 
 
 In her cap of snowy dimity she looked so clean 
 
 and neat, 
 
 Then her eye was full of kindness, and her 
 voice was low and sweet ; 
 
 And the tales she used to tell, 
 Wove around our hearts a spell, 
 In the dreary winter evenings when we d meet. 
 
 v. 
 But the story of her own young life, to us was 
 
 yet a dream, 
 
 For although we often pressed her, she con 
 trived to shun the theme; 
 
 And the wish each day grew stronger, 
 Till we vowed we d wait no longer, 
 
 O " 
 
 For her pledge this very night she must r 
 
CHRISTMAS TALE. 195 
 
 VI. 
 
 Like a knot of little gypsies then we gathered 
 
 round her knees ; 
 
 And our whispers fainter grew as dies the 
 playful summer breeze, 
 
 As in her own gentle way, 
 She began without delay 
 Her story, and the words she spoke were these : 
 
 yn. 
 In my eyes sweet tears oft glisten as I sit 
 
 alone and think, 
 
 When my heart up to the gushing streams of 
 memory goes to drink ; 
 
 And the forms of those that were 
 In my childhood s home so dear, 
 In one happy picture fancy seems to link. 
 
 yni. 
 
 There the vine-enwoveii cottage, near the elder- 
 clustered dell, 
 
 Stood, half hidden by the branches from the 
 spreading elms that fell ; 
 
 And twere rash to disbelieve 
 That at morning, noon, or eve, 
 Holy peace about the precincts loved to dwell 
 
196 CHRISTMAS TALE. 
 
 IX. 
 
 And my father, I remember him, as twere but 
 
 yesterday, 
 
 With his look of sweet contentedness, that al 
 ways seemed to say, 
 
 Oh ! how blessed is our lot, 
 In this quiet little cot, 
 From the world and all its falseness, far away. 
 
 x. 
 
 And I seem as then to watch again the fea 
 tures of my mother, 
 
 As she gazed with earnest tenderness upon my 
 little brother ; 
 
 For too frail a thing was he, 
 Long in this chill world to be, 
 While the angels waited for him in the other. 
 
 XI. 
 
 Twas one evening, when to realms of light he 
 
 knew he must depart, 
 
 And the thought that we should lose him 
 nearly broke my little heart, 
 
 That he turned to me and said : 
 " Sister dear, when I am dead 
 Do not think that we shall always be apart. 
 
CHRISTMAS TALE. 197 
 
 XII. 
 " On my angel wings I ll come to thee at 
 
 evening sweet and still ; 
 
 I will visit thee at morning when the sun 
 comes o er the hill ; 
 
 When alone, I will be near thee, 
 Or when loving voices cheer thee, 
 "When in sadness, or when joys thy bosom fill." 
 
 XIII. 
 
 And that little dying brother, now an angel 
 
 pure and bright, 
 
 Said he d bring me gentle warnings from the 
 fount of truth and light ; 
 
 Promised always to be near 
 To whisper counsel in my ear, 
 When through frailty I might w r aver in the right. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Thus my angel watched and shielded me through 
 
 each unfolding year, 
 
 Kept my heart admonished always with a salu 
 tary fear; 
 
 When evil thoughts would tyrannize, 
 Taught my trembling soul to rise 
 To a purer height upon the wdngs of prayer. 
 
198 CHRISTMAS TALE. 
 
 XV. 
 
 "N"ow the days of youth at length were o er, 
 
 and thoughtfully I stood 
 
 On the margin where the maiden merges into 
 womanhood ; 
 
 And a fuller joy dwelt in me, 
 For a fond one sought to win me, 
 And my virgin heart consented as he wooed. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 Ne er give heed, my darling children, to the 
 
 voice that laughs at love, 
 
 Tis the manna of life s wilderness that falleth 
 from above; 
 
 But pure hearts alone twill bless, 
 Strong in truth and earnestness, 
 That thro all, and unto death, shall faithful prove. 
 
 . xvn. 
 Oh! the earth came forth in richer garb in 
 
 those dear days, I ween ; 
 
 Then, the mornings all seemed brighter, and 
 the evenings more serene; 
 
 Every simple flower that grew 
 Took a warmer, deeper hue; 
 Every opening plant put on a tend rer green. 
 
CHRISTMAS TALE. 199 
 
 XVIII. 
 Thus I gave myself to present joy, for very 
 
 well I knew 
 
 That still nearer, each revolving sun, the hour 
 of trial drew ; 
 
 For too oft it is the part 
 Of a fondly loving heart, 
 By long suffering to prove if it be true, 
 
 XIX. 
 
 When, alas! the day of parting came, my heart 
 
 grew chill with fear, 
 
 When I pondered all the dangers that would 
 soon beset my dear ; 
 
 Till & voice my spirit awed, 
 Saying, "Put thy trust in God." 
 Twas my angel that was whisp ring in my ear. 
 
 xx. 
 Xow a noble ship is bearing him; before the 
 
 breeze she flies. 
 
 Oh ! the crowd of deep, unuttered thoughts that 
 in my bosom rise, 
 
 As my fancy telleth me 
 How she skims the Indian sea, 
 Skims the ocean where the spicy Ceylon lies. 
 
200 CHRISTMAS TALE. 
 
 And witli all my heart s devotedness I begged 
 
 of Heaven each day, 
 
 So to bless his generous efforts that he might 
 not long delay. 
 
 Oh! what joy then to have heard 
 But one only little word, * 
 Just to tell us he was safe, though far away. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 But the weary months rolled round and yet no 
 
 tidings could we hear, 
 
 Till at last the radiant face of hope grew pale 
 with ghastly fear. 
 
 But my angel still would sigh : 
 "Trust in him who is on high, 
 To His true and faithful ones He s always near." 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 Then a bark from the Brazils one morn to us 
 
 the rumor bore, 
 
 That his vessel went to pieces on the Amazo 
 nian shore; 
 
 And of passengers and crew, 
 There remained but only two, 
 While the rest of them were heard of nevermore. 
 
CHRISTMAS TALE. 201 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 But a new - born hope, as quick as thought, 
 
 sprung up within my breast, 
 That the one our thoughts were following 
 might yet survive the rest; 
 
 And I never, from that day, 
 Could the image put away, 
 Thus indelibly upon my soul impressed. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 But misfortune s crowning hour came ere many 
 
 months went by, 
 
 With the darkness of a storm-cloud rising o er 
 our summer sky, 
 
 When we felt ourselves secure 
 In our cottage home no more; 
 Twas another wound our trust in God to trv. 
 
 i/ 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 By a cruel course of fraud they sought to rob 
 
 us of our own 
 
 Of an undisputed heritage through generations 
 gone. 
 
 When, alas! shall righteous cause 
 Find its champion in the laws? 
 Laws in whose great name all justice should be 
 done. 
 
202 CHRISTMAS TALE. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 Utter ruin seemed impending. In my poor old 
 
 father s face, 
 
 Deepening lines of cank ring care from day to 
 day twas plain to trace 
 
 From his hearth-stone to be hurled 
 On a cold, unfeeling world, 
 To begin again life s rough and toilsome race. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 Oh ! my heart was torn by many a pang of an 
 guish, thus to see 
 
 The peace that blessed those dear ones turned 
 to bitter poverty ; 
 
 Twas a cruel thought to brook, 
 So a stern resolve I took , 
 I would offer up myself and set them free. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 For as he who had so crushed us was by am 
 ple fortune crow r ned, 
 
 It was not in simple greed of gain his purpose 
 could be found, 
 
 For by all that art could do, 
 He d sought my hand, tho 1 well he knew 
 That my heart by solemn pledge had long been 
 bound 3 
 
CHRISTMAS TALE. 203 
 
 XXX. 
 
 Till I told him that his suit was vain, nay, 
 
 odious to me, 
 
 And that while the light of heaven shone his 
 bride I d never be. 
 
 Then within his selfish heart 
 He contrived, with subtle art, 
 How he d weave this web of dark iniquity. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 Then I said, "His purpose he shall gain, but 
 
 all for their dear sake ; 
 
 Of myself I have resolved a willing sacrifice to 
 make ; " 
 
 So I dressed me 011 the day 
 In a bridal garment gay, 
 "With a cheerful air at least my vows to take. 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 "When beneath the church s hallow d dome we 
 
 all had entered in, 
 
 And the venerable priest kail arose the service 
 to begin, 
 
 Then these words I seemed to hear, 
 Like a knell upon my ear : 
 " Oh ! to marry thus would be a dreadful sin." 
 
CHRISTMAS TALE. 
 XXXIII. 
 
 Then I saw no more the joyous light, nor heard 
 
 the anthem sweet, 
 
 But it seemed as if a dark abyss were yawning 
 at my feet ; 
 
 Till my angel s voice I heard, 
 Like the singing of a bird ; 
 Even now methinks the strain I could repeat. 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 And it whispered of the vow that I had regis 
 tered above, 
 
 Of the beauty and the holiness of one undying 
 love; 
 
 Then my heart made this reply : 
 "In the grave until I lie, 
 Ever faithful to his memory will I prove." 
 
 xxxv. 
 Then I spoke and said, "Dear father, there is 
 
 naught I would not do 
 
 To shield thy age from grief or pain, or bless 
 ings to bestow ; 
 
 Peace and joy for thee to buy, 
 Oh, how gladly would I die ! 
 But you know my heart was plighted Ions: 
 
CHRISTMAS TALE. 205 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 "And to wed in hate twere better that you 
 
 heard my funeral chime, 
 
 Than to have so dark a record placed upon 
 the book of time. 
 
 Though to you I know twill bring 
 Sorrow, ruin every thing, 
 Yet you would not have your daughter do a crime." 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 Twas my father, then, that spoke, and oh! 
 
 how noble was his air, 
 
 As he turned to me and with his hands put 
 back my braided hair 
 
 " You are right, my child," said he, 
 "For this marriage shall not be; 
 Be the burden what it may that we must bear." 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 Now the one who would have bound me by a 
 
 false, unholy vow, 
 
 With a look of rage and shame upon his dark 
 and scowling brow, 
 
 As a deadly adder stings, 
 Muttered coarse, unfeeling things; 
 I remember how they pained me, even now. 
 
206 CHRISTMAS TALE. 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 But the touch of peace was on my heart, al 
 though a pallid trace 
 
 Of the struggle I had undergone, remained upon 
 my face. 
 
 But when the grace of Heaven, 
 In the blessing had been given, 
 And at length we turned to leave the sacred place, 
 
 XL. 
 Then a stranger stepped from out the crowd 
 
 and took me by the hand ; 
 Bronzed his face and thickly bearded, and his 
 dress of foreign land ; 
 
 But it proved a poor disguise, 
 When he cast on me his eyes, 
 With that look I used so well to understand. 
 
 XLI. 
 Tli en I felt a wild sensation, half of joy and 
 
 half of pain, 
 
 For the shock it was so sudden it had well 
 nigh crazed my brain. 
 
 And my heart was all a nutter ; 
 Not a word my tongue could utter ; 
 But my tears fell on the floor like drops of rain 
 
CHRISTMAS TALE. 207 
 
 XLII. 
 
 Tims twas in the holy presence of our blessed 
 
 Lord, tli at we 
 
 In the bonds of true affection should again 
 united be ; 
 
 There he pressed me to his heart, 
 And I knew we ne er should part, 
 For my angel stooped and whispered so to me. 
 
 XLIII. 
 It was Christmas morn, and never shone from 
 
 heaven a brighter day, 
 
 That our wanderer returned, and promised 
 never more to stray ; 
 
 And twas on that Christmas night, 
 That we heard him there recite 
 All that happened to him since he went away. 
 
 XLIV. 
 He had travelled many a weary mile, and 
 
 traversed many a sea, 
 
 And the wealth that he was bringing back, 
 he d gathered all for me. 
 
 In sweet peace that night I slept, 
 For in life I ne er had kept 
 Such a holy, quiet Christmas jubilee. 
 
 
 
208 CHRISTMAS TALE. 
 
 XLV. 
 
 "With these words it was that grandma to an 
 
 end her story drew, 
 
 Then in silent reverie remained as she was 
 wont to do. 
 
 But before the spell had flown, 
 That around us she had thrown, 
 And had left us free our pastimes to renew, 
 
 XLVI. 
 " Tis a very pretty tale, that," cried a voice 
 
 behind her chair ; 
 
 Quick we turned, when, who but grandpa 
 should be standing laughing there ; 
 But twas plain enough to trace, 
 As we looked into his face, 
 That the old man s eye w r as glist uing with a tear. 
 
V. 
 
 NEVERMORE I 
 
MY MARY. 
 
 MY MARY. 
 
 LOVELY in mind, in form, in face, 
 Thy gentle heart the dwelling place 
 Of every winning gift and grace, 
 My Mary. 
 
 Though beauty try, with witching wile, 
 The lazy hours to beguile, 
 Alas! tis Vain without thy smile, 
 My Mary. 
 
 When life looks drear and sadness reigns, 
 
 o 
 
 And faint each hope my heart contains, 
 AVhat then can ease my bosom s pains ? 
 My Mary. 
 
 Let fate against me hurl her dart, 
 Let fortune, friends let all depart, 
 Have I not still thy loving heart, 
 My Mary ? 
 
212 FAREWELL. 
 
 FAKE WELL. 
 
 OUE boat impatient bears delay, 
 
 Hark, hark, the warning bell ; 
 Alas ! tis come, the fatal day, 
 
 So Mary, fare thee well! 
 Farewell! dear Mary, thou shalt be, 
 
 When I am wandering far, 
 To light me in my lonely way, 
 
 A never setting star. 
 
 Our paths that part in winter drear, 
 
 Shall meet again when spring 
 Shall deck the earth with grass and flowers, 
 
 And birds begin to sing. 
 Farewell! though all our tender joys 
 
 This parting turns to pain, 
 Old Time shall drain the bitter cup, 
 
 And fill with joy again. 
 
FAREWELL. 213 
 
 Our love again shall beam out bright, 
 
 Though darkened now with sorrow ; 
 In clouds though sinks the setting sun. 
 
 He ll brightly rise to-morrow. 
 Soon shall we meet no more to part, 
 
 A whispering something says, 
 Then here s a health to her I love, 
 
 A health to happier days. 
 
21J: TO MARY 
 
 TO MAEY. 
 
 WITH A DOUBLE WILD JASMINE. 
 
 1836. 
 
 WHILE walking in the green wood s shade, 
 With thoughts of thee, my absent maid, 
 
 I spied these blossoms rare ; 
 Upon a tender vine they hung, 
 Sweet, dreamy depths of moss among, 
 That iii the soft air gently swung 
 
 Around the little pair. 
 
 In mingled sweetness round they threw 
 Their fragrance, for they double grew 
 
 Upon a single stem ; 
 And thus they closely clung together 
 In sunr:y days, in chilling weather, 
 And each one seemed unto the other 
 
 A crowning gem. 
 
TO MARY. 215 
 
 Ah! thus, I cried, may fate decree 
 The current of our lives to be, 
 
 And gently onward move; 
 And may our hearts in joy s green sprinir. 
 Or when they re touched by sorrow s sting, 
 Like these sweet flowers together cling 
 
 In endless love. 
 
216 TO THE WILD JASMINE. 
 
 LINES TO THE WILD JASMINE. 
 
 1850. 
 
 WHY, little plant, so delicate and frail, 
 "While forest beauties all around me lie, 
 
 Wafting unheeding fragrance to the gale, 
 Canst thou alone arrest my wandering eye ? 
 
 Why on these golden bulbs, that tender stem, 
 Do I still linger in so fond a maze? 
 
 More fondly far than on a diadem, 
 
 Ambition s votary sets his raptured gaze. 
 
 Tis not thy beauty, tenderness, and grace, 
 That weave about me now this potent spell ; 
 
 Though years ago they won for thee a place 
 In my esteem, no flower could fill so well. 
 
 But thou, by skilful touch, hast joined the chain 
 That links the present with the far-off past; 
 
 And one bright sunny spot in youth again 
 Sweetly attracts, then binds my spirit fast. 
 
TO THE WILD JASMINE. 217 
 
 Once on a day when soft the west wind blew, 
 And my warm bosom amorous answers lent, 
 
 A double bloom of thine, of golden hue, 
 I plucked and to my gentle Mary sent. 
 
 And now one boon one other double flower, 
 
 "Which like the former I ll to Mary send ; 
 That it may touch that happy chord once more, 
 
 And keep it thrilling to life s latest end. 
 10 
 
218 THE STEAMBOAT. 
 
 THE STEAMBOAT. 
 
 THE fires are up, the chimneys high 
 Roll their black volumes gainst the sky ; 
 The steam set free its deafening roar 
 In echoes dies along the shore. 
 Then at the word the line s cast off; 
 The scape-pipe puffs with hollow cough ; 
 Our keel the parting waves obey, 
 And we are bounding on our way. 
 Then one last look we cast behind, 
 Some face familiar still to find, 
 Or yet to catch some farewell word ; 
 But only can the hum be heard 
 Of mingled voices murmuring on, 
 Till in the distance lost and gone. 
 
 Then turning from this fading scene, 
 "We pace the deck with careless mien, 
 To gaze into the oily deep, 
 As through its surge we swiftly sweep; 
 
THE STEAMBOAT. 219 
 
 Or watch the wreaths of vapor rise 
 
 And mingle with the misty skies 
 
 Types of those few who from their birth - 
 
 The loveliest and the best of earth, 
 
 Are ever doomed the first to fade, 
 
 And slumber with the early dead. 
 
 Xow back and forth the engine plies, 
 With giant force the axle flies, 
 While from the fluttering wheels are thrown 
 Two waving tracks of milk-white foam. 
 Away, away ! o er the glassy tide, 
 Like an airy creature she seems to glide; 
 Aside she casts the silvery spray, 
 That melts beneath the waves away. 
 And a balmy breeze is whispering o er 
 Our prow from off yon sylvan shore, 
 Where roses and wild jasmines bloom, 
 And violets yield their soft perfume. 
 
 Here while I sit in pensive mind, 
 And listen to the murmuring wind, 
 
 O / 
 
 That dimples o er the smiling tide, 
 In dreams my senses seem to glide ; 
 Fond floating visions fill my brain, 
 Old friends I seem to greet again; 
 
220 THE STEAMBOAT. 
 
 My prattling little ones I see 
 Again come forth to welcome me ; 
 And one, beloved o er all the rest, 
 Weeps out her joy upon my breast. 
 
 Oh! such sweet dreams must surely be 
 Faint shadows of futurity 
 Promises to mortals given 
 Angel whispers breathed from heaven. 
 Speed on my boat! like a fairy glide, 
 "Who laughs alike at wind and tide, 
 O er dancing waves, through sparkling foam, 
 Oh! bear me to my happy home. 
 
WHEN EARLY BEAMS. 
 
 SO]STG. 
 
 WHEN EAKLY BEAMS, ETC. 
 
 WHEN early beams of blushing morn 
 
 Are stealing through the trees; 
 "When sparkling dew-drops deck the lawn, 
 
 And fresh the morning breeze ; 
 When rarest beauties meet the eye, 
 
 And honeyed sweets the smell ; 
 When on a thousand charming sounds 
 
 The ears delighted dwell : 
 
 Then from care and sadness free, 
 My heart in fondness turns to thee. 
 
 Wlien list ning to the varied songs 
 
 That fill the shady grove 
 The red-breast wild, the merry lark, 
 
 The gently murmuring dove 
 Or to the humming honey-bee 
 
 That sips the clover red, 
 Or to the streamlet gurgling o er 
 
 Its silvery, sandy bed : 
 
 Then my spirit glad and free, 
 Lightly bounds away to thee. 
 
222 TIS PLEASANT. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 ? TI8 PLEASANT, ETC. 
 
 Tis pleasant to watch at the eventide hour 
 
 The sunset soft sinking away ; 
 ? Tis pleas-ant to gaze just after the shower 
 
 On the rose in its dripping array ; 
 And pleasant it is in the grove to give ear 
 
 To the amorous plaint of the dove: 
 But to me, ah ! tis pleasanter far to be near 
 
 To the beautiful maid that I love. 
 
 The softness of twilight can never compare 
 
 With the mildness her glances bespeak ; 
 No rose ever scattered its sweets to the air 
 
 That can rival the bloom on her cheek ; 
 And the musical tones of the sorrowing dove 
 
 Such melody never can pour, 
 AB the accents that melt on the lips, as they 
 move, 
 
 Of the beautiful maid I adore. 
 
WHEN BRIGHT GAUDY BEAMS. 223 
 
 SONG. 
 
 WHEN THE BRIGHT GAUDY BEAMS, ETC. 
 
 X the bright gaudy beams of the day have 
 
 departed, 
 
 And silently steal the soft shadows of e en, 
 When instead of the lustre the sunlight im 
 parted, 
 The soft touch of twilight has purpled the 
 
 scene ; 
 We regret not that down to his -rest in the 
 
 O 
 
 ocean, 
 
 Gay Phoebus has driven his dazzling car, 
 But we linger to gaze with a deeper emotion 
 On the brightening ray of the evening star. 
 
 It is thus, my dear Moll, in the rich sunny glad 
 ness 
 
 Of pleasure I lingered enchanted a day, 
 And I turned from the scene with my heart 
 
 filled with sadness, 
 
 When its false glare had passed like the day- 
 light away. 
 
224: WHEN BRIGHT GAUDY BEAMS. 
 
 But in thee, dearest girl, generous Heaven hath 
 
 shown me 
 
 A soul-soothing radiance no fortune can mar ; 
 And oft when the light of thy smile is upon 
 
 me, 
 I think of that beautiful evening star. 
 
THE NOISY OLD MILL. 225 
 
 THE NOISY OLD klLL. 
 1839. 
 
 How dear to my heart is the bright sunny green, 
 Through whose vines the white walls of my 
 
 dwelling are seen ; 
 
 Xo sounds from the world s noisy riot e er come 
 To invade the sweet peace that embosoms my 
 
 home. 
 For the soul of tranquillity breathes through the 
 
 air, 
 And the bees and the birds happy music is 
 
 there, 
 
 Softly murmurs the stream at the foot of the hill; 
 There s a charm for me e en in the noisy old mill. 
 
 Ah ! sweet tis, when forced from these scenes 
 
 now to stray, 
 
 To fancy the eve of that too happy day, 
 When back to my home once returning again, 
 And silent and slowly I wind o er the plain, 
 10* 15 
 
226 THE NOISY OLD MILL. 
 
 Come thoughts of my wife and my little ones 
 
 dear, 
 And the smiles of rich joy that will welcome 
 
 me there ; 
 
 And oh ! with what rapture my bosom will thrill 
 When aroused by the sound of the noisy old 
 
 mill. 
 
 1859. 
 
 It was thus in the morning of life that I sang, 
 Twas a psean of hope in my bosom that rang, 
 And that bright, blessed dream I so longed to 
 
 renew, 
 
 Awaited me always, sweet cottage, in you. 
 Where now are those mornings so dewy and 
 
 bright ? 
 
 Those sweet, quiet evenings of peaceful delight? 
 When the clear, liquid note of the lone whip- 
 poor-will 
 Filled the woods that embosomed the noisy old 
 
 mill. 
 
 Many long, dreary years have I wandered since 
 
 then, 
 And joined in the strife and the struggles of men, 
 
THE NOISY OLD MILL. 227 
 
 But my heart grows aweary, nor farther will 
 
 roam, 
 And fondly turns back to its sweet country 
 
 home. 
 
 Then comes a reminder all muttering and low : 
 "Mem ry nothing but mem ry is left to thee 
 
 now 
 
 Of a form that is cold and a voice that is still : " 
 And I weep when I think of the noisy old mill. 
 
226 SONG. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 MY Mary, why does fate thus sever, 
 
 Though the weary period s short, 
 Hearts like ours, whose pulse must ever 
 
 Throb in torture when apart? 
 For one embrace what would I give 
 
 One precious moment now with thee ; 
 A lifetime in a kiss we d live, 
 
 Nay, nay ! a whole eternity. 
 
 When earth and sky in smiles I see, 
 
 And all around me gay and glad, 
 Tis strange that though I think of thee, 
 
 My heart should be so very sad 
 Tis not that nature is less bright, 
 
 That I no more her charms can see ; 
 It is that naught that yields delight 
 
 Can please unless tis shared with thee. 
 
SONG. 
 
 229 
 
 But most at night s dull, dreary hour, 
 
 When I, alone, lie down to sleep, 
 Thought busy thought asserts her power, 
 
 And bids me still my vigils keep. 
 Alone, alone, with sleepless eye, 
 I count the long hours tolling by, 
 And wrapt in tearful ecstasy, 
 "With all my soul I think of tliee. 
 
230 TIS ABSENCE PEOYES. 
 
 TIS ABSENCE PROVES. 
 
 Tis absence proves with touchstone rare, 
 
 If firm or frail the heart ; 
 Pure gold a shining trace leaves there, 
 
 To base ore can impart. 
 
 Tried thus and true, hope gently folds 
 
 Her network round the soul, 
 And each frail web a fond wish holds, 
 
 To draw it to its goal. 
 
 Thus have I sought within my breast, 
 
 If falseness there could be, 
 But every fibre stands impressed 
 
 "With constancy to thee. 
 
 Like lark at morn, on upward wings 
 
 My spirit strives to soar, 
 And with a loving fancy springs 
 
 Back to its own once more. 
 
TIS ABSENCE PROVES. 231 
 
 Clear as yon star, when we re apart, 
 Let faith s pure name then bum, 
 
 Best proof how one devoted heart, 
 At least, for thee doth yearn. 
 
 As mountain stream the valley seeks, 
 
 As rivers seek the sea, 
 As back the wood its echo speaks, 
 
 So bounds my heart to thee. 
 
232 THOU ART XOT HERE. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 TIIOTJ ART NOT HEEK. 
 
 THOU art not here, 
 
 My heart is lonely; 
 But as when near, 
 
 Beats for thee only. 
 Ah ! best beloved one, 
 In thine own loving tone, 
 When wilt thou greet me again, love ; 
 "When wilt thou greet me again, love? 
 
 Each coming morn, 
 
 Night s gloom succeeding, 
 Presses the thorn 
 
 In my heart bleeding; 
 Aye must its stinging pain 
 In this fond heart remain, 
 Till it is press d against thine, love; 
 Till it is pressed against thine, love. 
 
ABSENCE. 233 
 
 ABSENCE. 
 
 WITHOUT, all s dark and cliill and bleak, 
 Tlie mournful night wind sighs; 
 
 It seems unto my heart to speak 
 Of life s realities, 
 
 Of sad and lonely hours, now 
 That home s sweet joys are flown ; 
 
 Oh ! the dull, aching void of heart, 
 When one is all alone. 
 
 Yet sweetly will to-morrow s light 
 
 Chase all this gloom away, 
 And to my present lonely night, 
 
 Succeed a smiling day. 
 
234 FIRST FIRE OF AUTUMN. 
 
 THE FIKST FIKE OF AUTUMN. 
 
 On, happy fireside ! sweet autumnal eve ! 
 When, from the sharp and chilly air without, 
 We cluster, as the dusky hour draws near, 
 Around the first bright blaze that warms the 
 
 hearth, 
 
 Neglected long, but cheerful once again. 
 There is, dear wife! a happiness complete, 
 Thus mid the prattling of our little ones 
 To let the time slip by ; or when their joy 
 Is o er, and sleep hath sent them to their couch 
 Of sinless dreams, to sit together by 
 This friendly blaze, with spirits hushed and 
 
 still, 
 
 But satisfied ; nor craving aught that the 
 Great world, w T ith all its pride and pomp, can on 
 Its votaries bestow. Ah ! this indeed 
 Is happiness complete a vision dim, 
 Of the bright joys of our celestial home. 
 
IMPROMPTU. 235 
 
 IMPKOMPTU. 
 
 years, dear wife, liave passed away since 
 
 we, 
 
 Upon the verge of life s expanding scene, 
 Stood hand and hand and gazed with trustful 
 
 hearts, 
 
 Far. down the dim, uncertain vale of time. 
 Long years, alas ! and half our journey here. 
 Like a short morning ramble in the fields, 
 Already we ve completed ; many spots 
 That charmed us, have we dallied in upon 
 The wayside; many buds and flowers have 
 We culled, the passing hours to beguile. 
 And if some clouds have crossed our sky, soon 
 
 have 
 
 They cleared away and left all bright again. 
 Let us not sigh, then, at the passing thought, 
 That time begins to print some tell-tale marks, 
 
236 IMPROMPTU. 
 
 Reminding us that we re no longer young. 
 For me as I grow old like others I grow 
 
 blind- 
 Blind to thy faults, if faults indeed are thine. 
 If on thy face some lines too many are 
 For beauty s strict requirement if the rose 
 Is fainter on thy cheek, and now and then 
 A silvery thread steals in among thy locks 
 Of chesnut brown, I see them not, but o er 
 The graces and the youthful charms of all 
 The world beside, my eyes unheeding strain 
 Until they rest on thee, and then I bless 
 My God that thou art all to me, and I 
 To thee. 
 
RETURN HOME. 237 
 
 EETURK HOME. 
 
 OH ! happy, happy, happy clay ! 
 When leaping ont upon the quay, 
 I bid old hackey whip away, 
 
 And haste me to my Molly. 
 
 For many a weary mile I ve been, 
 Far o er the dark and stormy main, 
 But safe and sound I m back again, 
 To see my darling Molly. 
 
 For when in danger, night or day, 
 I d look aloft and to Him pray, 
 Whose voice the seas and winds obey. 
 He spared me for my Molly. 
 
 "Whip up, my lad ! for here we are, 
 Such hearty shouts as rend the air. 
 My darling little ones, I swear, 
 
 Among them, too, my Molly. 
 
238 RETURN HOME. 
 
 Oil ! happy, happy, happy day ! 
 
 Sweet sunshine round my heart doth play, 
 
 Oh ! that with rapture too it may 
 
 Light up the heart of Molly. 
 
I AM NOT OLD. 239 
 
 I AM NOT OLD. 
 
 I AM not old the count of years 
 
 That age should reckon, are not mine. 
 Above me still that height appears, 
 
 Whence downward all man s steps incline. 
 None of those marks as yet I bear, 
 
 That in the aged we behold, 
 Nor feeble step, nor silvery hair, 
 
 Reminds me that I m growing old. 
 
 Yet when my senses all betray 
 
 That o er the earth a change has come, 
 That all that once was bright and gay 
 
 Has lost its beauty and its bloom 
 That Heaven my portion has decreed, 
 
 In loneliness to w T alk among 
 Earth s joyous scenes, ah ! then, indeed, 
 
 I know that I m no longer young. 
 
240 I AM NOT OLD. 
 
 It needs not years to steal away 
 
 The sunshine of a happy heart; 
 Alas ! in one brief, bitter day, 
 
 The promises of life depart. 
 And what is life, when cold and dead 
 
 Lie all the hopes to which we ve clung, 
 And fondly nursed ? Alas ! indeed, 
 
 I feel that I m no longer young. 
 
 Oh ! let Time s dreaded tide roll on 
 Toward yon dim and distant strand. 
 
 Do I not see the form of one 
 
 There beckoning to me w T ith her hand ? 
 
 Roll on, dark stream ! not thus alone, 
 Earth s scenes I care to dwell among ; 
 
 Alas ! quite old my heart has grown, 
 
 And never more can I be young. 
 
 / & 
 

YC 1442!