THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES SPRING BUDS AUTUMN LEAVES. SPRING BUDS A XI) AUTUMN LEAVES. J) C 1U 5. A. \V. L O X I) O X : 11UHST AM) IJLAl'KI-nT, I'l'HUSHEHS, SU('(T.SM>US 10 IIKNKV COLBUHN, i;i, (;KI:AT MAKI.IU>UOL'GII STKKLT. B1I.UNU, PRINTER AND STF.RKOTYt ER, 103, II ATI ON UAliUICN, LONDON, ANI> QUILUFOKI). SURREY. PR CONTKNTS. PACK Prefatory Versos . 1 Time was, Time is, Time shall be . . . . .3 Spring ......... 6 To the Moon ......... 8 Life'* Young Dream ....... 10 Sir KKlml. A Ballad 11 The Forsaken 20 Impromptu ......... 22 To the Westwood Oak 23 The Foreed Smile . . . . . . . .20 To the Last. Rose 27 To the Stars 21) Impromptu. \Vritten on the Sand . . . .31 January 1st, 1837 32 The Departure of the Swallows ..... 31 The Desolate Heart 36 Autumn Flowers. ....... 38 A Sketeh. Drawn from Life by the Sea-Shore The Fisher's Wife -10 Farewell to the Old Year, 1S52 45 Reminiseeneea. ... . 17 9181^3 VI CONTENTS. PAGE Sonnet. The Nameless Grave 51 Stanzas 52 To 54 To illustrate a Painting of two Frogs sitting under a Mushroom . .... ... 55 Recipe for a Scent Jar 59 To the Bee 61 On Eeading some Lines in Censure of the late Lord Byron 63 Sonnet. To Night 66 To my Brother, A. J., with Flowers .... 67 Lines written in the long Winter of 1814 . . .70 Alone 72 Farewell to 1858 74 " I Loathe it, I Loathe it. I would not Live always " 76 To my Foster-Child in Heaven 78 " She is not Dead, hut Sleepeth " .... 81 Retrospection 83 Composed in a Garden 85 Stanzas for Sacred Music . . . . . .88 Composed in the Prospect of an LTnexpected Recovery from Illness 89 Summer Evening by the Sea-Shore . . . . .92 To C. C 94 The Farewell 9G Impromptu. To S. T., on her Birthday, 1822 . . 97 Sonnet 99 To the Robin 100 She Mourneth in Secret . . . . . . 102 Impromptu . .... 103 CONTENTS. VI! PAOB A Bont Song. Set to Music 104 Translated from the French 106 Stanzas set to Music 107 To F , with a Kettle- Holder, on the 14th of Fe- bruary 108 Stanzas adapted to Music ..... 109 Composed on Hearing the Bells on Christmas Morning, 1859 110 Solemn Musings .... 112 Composed in Sickness. . . . . . .116 A Ballad 118 To 135 JUVENILE POEMS, miNCIl'ALLY WRITTEN BETWEEN THE AGE OF TEN AND SIXTEEN YEARS. On the Death of my Beloved Mother. Composed in my Tenth Year 137 Farewell to n Favourite Nurse ..... 139 Alwyn and Evelina. A Fact versified in my Eleventh Year 141 The Flower Garden ....... 141 To a Robin which dropped on the Floor in a Half-frozen State 147 On seeing Children Building Houses with Card? . 149 On a Heartsease that Bloomed through the Year . 151 To M. M., with Violets . .... 154 To Laura. An Invocation to rise .... 155 On the Hes'-rted Cotdure on Danwick Cliff . 157 Vlll CONTENTS. PAR To Spring ; 159 To Mary 161 Elegy on a Pet Leveret 162 A Satire in Imitation of Horace. Impromptu . . 164 To a Friend with the First Violet .... 166 " The Wind passeth over it, and it is gone " . , 168 To Mary, with a Basket of Flowers. . . . 170 Impromptu ........ 172 Lines 17g Supposed to be Written by a Disappointed Lover . 174 Love's Logic ........ 176 Little Alice. A Kiddle ...'.. 178 ORIGINAL ENIGMAS, CHARADES, ETC. Enigmas 181 Charades 192 Rebuses . 206 PREFATORY YERSES. Go, little Barque, trembling I send thee forth, My first bold venture on the shoreless deep : Although thy freightage be of little worth, Yet on thy course an anxious watch 1 keep. Alas thy merchandize hath cost me dear, I culled ' ; Sjiriiif/ Jhx/x" while calmer spirits slept, And " Autumn's falling Leaves" collected here, With many a pang of fond regret were swept. Li^ht is thy cargo, may fair breezes speed Thee on thy way, nor shoal, nor fatal rock, Nor statelier craft, thy buoyant course impede. And bear thee down, with overwhelming shock. 2 PBEFATOBY TEESES. Poor little Barque ! thy frame is wondrous slight, And should the awful Board that scans thee o'er, Pronounce thee not sea-worthy, trim, nor tight, Thy Builder will not launch thee from the shore, But break thy timbers up, and never trust thee more. SPRING BUDS AND AUTUMN LEAVES. TIME WAS, TIME IS, TIME SHALL UK. TIME was, when my young heart, unscathed by cure Leapt forth with joy to greet the coining year : Gay, smiling Hope hung her bright garlands there And hade the unknown hours all light appear; And if perchance mine eye confessed a tear, 'Twa* a fi :i;l *Hbute to the parting one, (>i>e w! i Mr sweet r.u-mon was passing dear, \s tht nights that hover o'er a iViend long known. To look with smiles upon us, now for ever gone ! Time was, when, in the stillness of the night, Mine ear kept vigil for the sweet bell's tone. That waked the new-horn year, and told the flight, The instant flight, of the departing one, Thou sweet sad requiem of moments gone ! 4 TIME WAS, TIME IS, TIME SHALL BE. What said thy warning voice to my young heart ? Did it not whisper of fond hopes o'erthrown ? Did it not raise, with necromantic art, Phantoms of wasted hours, making pale conscience start ? Tes, but these sage reflections on the past Soon yielded to the light and buoyant play Of untired spirits, and were rudely cast, E'en as a noisome weed, away away ! Then came the dream of joys that might not stay, Yain earthborn visions ! cheaters of the brain ! Fret-work of fancy ! that one lucid ray Had melled into nothingness again, But young hearts will not brook stern reason's sober rein. Time is, when Fancy's wild creations sink Beneath the touch of cold reality, AVhen tried experience trembles on the brink Of time gone by, and that which is to be, For in prophetic vision he can see The future as the past, with sorrows rife, The serpent sin. in dread vitality. Shudd'ring lie views, with crest upreared for strife. Or coiled amidst the flowers that would embellish lite. TIME WAS, TIMK IS, TIME SHALL BK. O Time shall he, when this restless, changing scene, Of mortal conflict, this perturbed clay, To me shall be as if it ne'er had been, And hope and fear alike shall pass away ; Aye, soon shall vanish all this bright arrav, This gorgeous pageantry of earth and sky. Then, oh, my soul, amid the wide decay, The crash of spheres, the wreck of vanity, Look up with joy, for thy redemption draweth nigh. SPEING. 'Tis Spring-tide, and each lovely bloom, That slept the wintry night away, Now springs exulting from its tomb, And laughing meets the genial ray. Each bright eye gazes on the sun, Each woos him with expanded breast, And when his farewell beam is gone, Each folds her rich embroidered vest. They weep all night their gentle tears, Their soft eyes closed, resigned and meek, Till their loved golden beam appears, Kindling new beauty on their cheek. Fair worshippers ! their fragrant sighs, As clouds of grateful incense spread, "While their bright Parent from the skies Showers dewy blessings on their head. Afar the playful breeze has borne The honied breath of fairest flowers; Hark ! how the wilt/ bee winds his horn, And revels mid the scented bowers. All nature seems with gladness rife, The wilil birds trill their raptured lav, And countless forms of insect life Spread their glad wings and dart away. Oh ! Spring, T love thy hopeful time ! Thy budding sprays, thy skies of blue, Thou emblem of my youthful prime, When all was bright, and fresh, and new ! Summer unfolds her peerless rose, But canker-worms oft mar the bloom ; And Autumn with bright fruitage glows, But falling leaves prepare her tomb. Sweet Spring ! all changeful as thou art, I can 1 not for thy passing frown ; I clasp thy promise to my heart, For smiling Hope is all thy own. TO THE MOON YES, thou art fair, sweet Moon, to-night, And yet methinks thou'rt far less bright Than when I saw thee last ; Thy smile illumes as calm a sea, And quiet hills, as when on thee I gazed in moments past. But there were eyes whose blessed light Made thine appear more softly bright Than e'er it did before ; Gone are those eyes, beloved rays, Alone upon thine orb I gaze, And think thee bright no more. Ye few sweet moments of our day, Ye treasured few, of transient stay, That flit on rainbow wing ; Dancing in pleasure's meteor ray, Pair flowers that bloom in life's dull way, What bitterness ye bring ! TO THE MOON. The light-winged breatli of Summer throws His balmy freshness o'er the rose, And then pursues his flight, Yet oft returns the wayward power, To revel with the happy flower ; But ye have left me quite Quite left me, and her magic art, To soothe the sorrow of my heart, Fond memory tries in vain ; Alas! her tale of pleasures o'er, Can only make me weep the more, And wish them mine again. 10 LIFE'S YOTJXG DEEAM. FABEWELL sweet dream ! 'tis bitterness to part With thee, sweet dream, the solace of long years, Like a fair flower entwining round my heart, In its sweet bloom absorbing all my tears, Or as the western beam at evening peers Through parting clouds that wept the morn away, So that thought's sunshine brightened through my fears, And cheered my spirit with its blessed ray, Ah ! wherefore must I mourn, sweet dream, thy broken sway. SIR ELDEED. A BALLAD. " OH ! why dost them turn from the dark green wood? And why is thy cheek BO pale ? And why must we cross that perilous flood, That heaves to the midnight gale r" " Oh, Lady ! I turn with a thrilling dread, When the moon is riding high ; For shadowy forms in that dark green shade Are nightly gliding by. " Yon hawthorn, which brightened the hill's dark brow, AVhen the silvery radiance shone, And looks like a moving mass of snow, Now the clouds sail over the moon ' When beauty has passed from the wintry bowers, And fields no more are green, That hawthorn all white with its pearly flowers, As in pride of May is seen. 12 Sill ELDEED. " Though all the winds of heaven should sleep, And no breath sweep over the hill ; That hawthorn will tremble and bow o'er the steep, And toss its white garland still. " They tell of a knight and a youthful maid, A lady of noble degree, "Who oft-times stole through the secret shade, And met 'neath the hawthorn tree. " Oh ! the maid was fair as that snowy bell That droops in the dewy vale ; The knight was brave, and he loved her well ; Now, Lady, give ear to my tale." Fair Leonore leaned on her lover's breast, And her tears were falling fast, For Sir Eldred had donned his warrior Test, And he came to woo his last. "Oh, Leonore !" sighed the enamoured knight, " Wilt thou love me when far away ? When thy Eldred no longer can visit thy sight, Will his form in thy memory stay ?" " Believe," said the maid, " though thine absence be Until youth and hope be flown ; My tenderest thought shall be given to thee, I will love but thee alone." SIR ELDHED. 13 " Oh ! wilt thou forgive, dear maid, if I yield To a lover's jealous fears ! Should thy warrior fall on the battle field, AVilt thou soon forget thy tears?" " Oh, Eldred !" she murmured with shuddering breath, " Mav merey avert that blow, These eyes must close in the sleep of death, Ere tor Kldred they eease to How." " When the lord of the valley beholds thy face, Thy beauty will make him sigh, .And the lord of the valley has every grace That can tempt a maiden's eye. ' Fair is the fame, and high the degree Of that young and wealthy lord, "While thy soldier's sole merit is loving thee, And his wealth lies in his sword.'' A frown came over her lovely brow, As a cloud comes over the moon ; And her fair check flushed with a crimson glow, Hut the fr.nvn and the blush lied soon. She frowned with a feeling of maiden pride, Her lover's distrust to blame ; l>ut he t^a/ed in her eyes till resentment died. And she blushed from maiden shame. 14 SIB ELDBED. " When Leonore, faithless to love and thee, To another shall plight her vow, This hawthorn, to witness her perfidy, Shall bloom 'mid December's snow." " Then give me a tress of thy golden hair, As a pledge, before we part ; No earthly power shall the treasure tear From thy Eldred's faithful heart." She loosed the chaplet that bound her hair, And her locks fell in golden showers, And they played on her cheek and her bosom fair, As sunbeams amid the flowers. Then she raised a ringlet from Eldred's brow, With her fingers so taper and white, And they gleamed like mountain-peaks of snow 'Mid the sable clouds of night. " Now twine them together in mystic braid, And vow thou wilt never forget, 'Till this raven lock change to a silvery grey, And this golden be black as jet." " I twine them together," replied the maid, " And vow I will never forget 'Till thy raven lock change to a silvery grey, And my golden be black as jet." SIR ELDREU. 15 As she gave him the token, a sound of fear Stole over the peaceful vale ; Sir Eldred's eye kindled, that sound to hear, Hut Leonore's cheek grew pale. 'Tis the trumpet's call ! the hour is come ! No longer the parting delay, One farewell embrace hark youder's the drum, Fond lover, away away ! Like the roebuckjhe sprang from the hawthorn shade, Nor lingered to falter adieu ! But he waved his plumed helm tothesorrowingmau!, Ere the deep wood concealed him from view. The lord of the valley came over the hill While the lady was yet in her woe ; He sprang from his steed, and stole softly and still Behind the o'ershadowing hough. lie ga/.ed as she leaned on hoi snowy an::. And her hair as a curium of gold, Half veiiiii' r her features and elegant form. O "Was floating in manv a fold. He ga/.od with emotion on Leonotv's tears, lie ga/ed and he fondly admired; But lest his bold presence should waken her fears, He unseen and in silence retired. 16 SIB ELDEED. The lord of the valley no rest could know 'Till he sought for that fair one's love ; But Leonore, true to her plighted vow, Nor sighs nor entreaties could move. They tell how this comely and wealthy young lord Fell sick for the maid of the vale ; How he fled from his friends and the festive board, And wandered by moonlight pale. They tell how he haunted the fatal shade Where the mourner first won his proud heart ; How he softened the scorn of the pitying maid, And stole on her soul by his art. They tell how 'twas rumoured Sir Eldred had died In a foreign and barbarous land ; How her new lover soothed her and flattered her pride, Till she promised to yield him her hand. ' On the eve of the bridal, on courser white, He stopped at fair Leonore's bower, And urged her to fly by the pale moonlight, For danger was hovering o'er. He set her in haste on his snowy white steed, And flung o'er her his mantle of blue ; SIR ELDRED. 17 The tangled wood stayed not their perilous speed, And o'er mountain and valley they flew. He waa cased in armour, his vizor was down, But she gazed on his terrible eye ; Its language was dark, she shrank from its frown, But she trembled to ask him for why. In silence they went, till the terrified maid Asked, trembling, how far they must ride ? " A priest in you abbey is waiting," he said, " My fair one, to make thee my bride." By a newly dug grave fair Leonore saw A priest stand with uncovered head ; And he read, with a voice of tremulous awe, The service which honours the dead. And round, there stood a mourning train, All clad in the garb of woe ; And they were chanting the requiem strain In cadences mournful and low. Her lover looked on with a bitter smile, 'Twas a tearful smile to see ; ' Sir Priest, thou must rest from that work awhile To marry my true love and me." Fair Leonore turned as she heard him speak, And aside his dark mantle he threw ; 18 SIB ELDKED. His vizor was raised, she uttered a shriek, For the face of Sir Eldred she knew. On his helmet was waving a long dark tress, With a ringlet of silvery grey ; And white with the raven-black plume of his crest, A garland of hawthorn did play. " Come, let me adorn thee as fitting my bride," In a deep hollow murmur he said, As he tore the white wreath from his helmet's pride, And twined it round Leonore's head. Then he drew the pale maid to the wide yawning grave, And pointed with shadowy hand ; " There lies thy Sir Eldred, the faithful and brave, Basely slain by his rival's command. " For seven long moons has my murdered form In a barbarous region been laid, Unhonoured and bare to the pitiless storm, In the deep wood's guilty shade. " The lord of the valley may howl in despair, Thou hast vowed and thou yet shall be mine ; Come, join thy pale bridegroom in regions of air, His spirit shall mingle with thine." SIE ELDBED. 19 She sank in the grave on the dead man'8 breast, That bosom so still and so cold ; But his bloodless arms were round her prest, And he held her in icy fold. No human might could those arms unclasp, Though many a prayer was said ; But soon as she sank in that death-cold grasp, Fair Leonore's spirit had fled. Now the spectre knight, on his shadowy steed, And his lady by moonlight pale, Are seen, while he flies, with incredible speed, To chase the false lord of the vale. c 2 20 THE FOKSAKEK WHY should I bind my hair with flowers, Or teach my braided locks to shine ? The eyes they pleased in happier hours, Now gaze on brighter locks than mine. Away with all this idle show, It mocks me with unfitting bloom ; These wreaths were on my mournful brow, As roses scattered o'er a tomb. I'd have a sombre garland made, Dark cypress and funereal yew ; This brow of sadness I would shade With something of congenial hue. Why should I join the festive throng, Where mirthful tones my peace annoy ? Ah ! what to me is dance or song ? They cannot wake a kindred joy. THE FORSAKEN". 21 And where are music's soothing powers ? I only hear in that soft swell The requiem of departed hours, The dirge of pleasures loved too well. I threw me by the ocean's side, And watched the restless billows roll ; The sullen murmur of the tide Made music fitted to my souL Upon the shore, with careful hand, I traced the lines my fancy gave ; And marked how soon the yielding sand llesigned them to the sweeping wave. And thus I said, Man's fickle mind Awhile some treasured form may bear, But time steals o'er, nor leaves behind A trace of fond impression there. IMPEOMPTTJ. BZTTINA, though the flow'ry wreath, Which thy kind hand for me had twined, Long since hath faded unto death, Breathed its last odour on the wind ; Tet cease to mourn its transient doom, For memory's inmost cell doth bear The treasured gift, and bids it bloom In renovated beauty there. 23 TO THE WESTWOOD OAK. THE Druid bard of other days would look Upon thy form with reverence less profound Than I behold tliee, thou majestic oak ! Stretch thy wide shadow o'er this circling mound. May the axe spare thy venerable age, Idly around thee may tierce Eurus blow, Harmless above thy head the tempest rage, Nor rend one honour from thy sacred brow. M v la-art's recording book thy trunk shall be, Each treasured name that faithful page shall bear Time of thy youthful grace may ravage thee, Yet those dear names unharmed shall flourish there. The woodbine's wreaths thy branches shall adorn. And breathe their incense round thy favoured seat : For oft within that circle hast thou drawn The cheerful, friendly baud I love to meet. 24 TO THE WESTWOOD OAK. When yon forsaken roof is theirs no more, When in those walls no form beloved I spy, IS^o ready step to meet me at the door, And speak my welcome \\ ith the beaming eye. Oh ! when those gates are coldly closed on me, When each deserted room looks blank and bare, Thou'lt stretch thy verdant arms, dear faithful tree, I yet may find a friendly shelter there. And while beneath thy canopy I rest, And feed my sorrows with the sad survey, Dreams of the past shall triumph o'er my breast, Peopling thy shade with beings far away. Fancy shall bid the friendly group arise That erst assembled in thy magic bound ; On me shall beam the light of absent eyes, And distant voices bless me with their sound. The rugged cliff, the wave's unruffled blue, The little light-winged skiff that glides beneath The scattered farms, the grove of various hue, The dark plantation, the uncultured heath ; The smoke, slow rising from the sheltered vale, Where lurks the shepherd's peaceful cot unseen ; The hill bold swelling, the retiring dale, The waving corn fields and the meadows greeu. TO THE WEBTWOOD OAK. 25 Each object witnessed from this wild retreat Shall speak of brighter hours, too bright to last ; Hours, which my loved companions made so sweet, Sweet hours ! ah, wherefore should ye fly so fast ? Where'er I roam, however changed my lot, From my true heart these scenes shall never fade; Affection still shall hover o'er the spot, And memory hallow each familiar shade. THE EOECED SMILE. 'Tis hard to force that ray less smile, That gives no lustre to the eye, Which plays upon the lip awhile, But brings the cheek no warmer dye. It is as though a meteor's gleam Just tinged a cloud with sudden light, Just glanced upon a frozen stream, Then fled, and left no traces bright. The dark cloud brightened as it passed, The streamlet caught its transient ray ; But ah ! no warmth the meteor cast, No roseate colours tracked its way TO THE LAST EOSE. TITOF lingering flower of summer's bloom, What dost thou here ? Are not thy sisters in their tomb ? "Would'st thou survive the general doom, The dying year ? Strange ! now from Autumn's sadd'ning brow Drops the pale wreath ; Thy cheek with tints so warm should glow, Thy bosom breathe such fragrance now O'er scenes of death. Alas ! thou lone, thou lovely flower, I view in thee An emblem of the last sweet hour Of many, that for evermore Have passed from me. 28 TO THE LAST BOSE. The summer rose, my hours of joy Together came ; I've seen those hours and roses die, And thou, fair flower, ere long must lie "Withering with them. But though thy glowing hues decay, We will not part ; And though the last hour speeds away. Yet its sweet mem'ry ne'er shall stray From this sad heart. I'll cherish thee, thou rosebud fair, When beauty's flown ; Thy every petal hoard with care, And each shall some fond record bear Of moments gone. From scenes and friends beloved so well, 'Tis hard to sever ; 'Tis sweet on past delights to dwell, 'Tis sad when Eeason comes to tell They're past for ever ! 29 TO THE STAES. YE silent watchers of the night, That sentinel the solemn sky ! Whence is that pure and holy light, That beams from every starry eye ? Fain would I deem that living flame The pledge divine of peace and love ; Symbol of th' Eternal Name, Traced in bright characters above. Downward ye look with tranquil gaze. On human woe and crime and strife, Still moving in harmonious ina/.e, Above the storms of mortal life. There's beauty in the gladsome earth, There's grandeur in the pathless sea ! And every form of nature's birth matchless skill and bounty free. 30 TO THE STABS. But in yon lofty starlit dome, So solemn, holy, and sublime, The winged soul beholds its home, And soars beyond the bounds of time. Beautiful stars ! was it for nought Your forms in radiant orbs were cast ? No but to wake the pious thought, that light and truth shall rule at last. Mysterious worlds ! still daring man, With soaring mind, will seek in vain To solve the universal plan, Till God vouchsafe to make it plain. 31 IMPROMPTU. WBITTEN OTK THE SAND. WHILE kneeling on the golden sand, With beating heart and trembling hand, The name beloved I trace ; The wave which next cornea sweeping o'er, May, ere it leaves the pebbly shore, The characters erase. But in my bosom's inmost cell That name is traced too deep, too well, By aught to be removed ; The tide of years may onward roll, But never from my faithful soul Shall aweep that name beloved. 32 JANUARY IST, 1837. 'Tis midnight ; and hark ! on the clear cold air, There pealeth a sound that awakens iny heart, Forgotten scenes to my couch repair, And buried forms into beings start. There is magical power in your voices, ye bells, To call up the ghosts of the sepulchred past ; My spirit replies to your musical spells, While their changing shadows fond memories cast. Childhood hath fled like a dream away, With its sportive wiles and its short-lived flowers ; And youth hath passed as an April day, With its buds of promise and gilded showers. The days of my sunny prime are gone, And some of its roses 1 thought were my own, But the blooming petals dropped one by one, And I grasped but the thorny stem alune. JANUARY 1ST, 1839. 33 Autumn is come with its chastened glow, And its mellowed fruits tor a wintry store ; Hut the yellow leaf whirls from the topmost bough, And the blooms of summer are mine no more. I see in the distance, with stealthy pace, Stern Winter advancing, begirt with his snows ; When his chill touch withers the last lingering grace, And scatters hoar frosts o'er my care-furrowed brows, Ah where shall I seek for my lost summer rose ': Oh Sharon's sweet rose ! I have found thee now, Thou hast taught me the worth of that blossom- less stem ; Jlence thy thorny chaplet 1 bind on my brow. And scorn a less glorious diadem. 34 THE DEPASTURE OP THE SWALLOWS. BIEDS of the restless, wandering wing, Joyous companions of the Spring ! Heralds of Summer's rosy hours,! Stay stay awhile your parting flight, As yet the Autumn noon is bright, And beauty lingers with the flowers. Tour insect prey still haunts the stream, Still dances in the western beam, The thrush yet pours his gushing lay ; The woodland bowers are densely green, No faded yellow leaf is seen, Then wherefore would ye speed away ? Like Angel messengers, ye bring Glad tidings from th' Eternal King, Of glorious summer's blessed birth Tour low sweet song proclaims the reign, Of peace and love restored again, To renovate the gladdened earth. THE DEPARTURE OF THE SWALLOWS. 35 Oh tarry yet awhile with me, 1 caunot bear to part from ye, Sweet guests of Summer's radiant day ; With ye all lovely things appear, That charm the eye, enchant the ear, And with ye they will pass away. Yet go seek some more genial clime, Full well ye know th' appointed time, Te faithful followers of the Sun ; Still his illumined track pursue, Still keep his worshipped beam in view, And wintry cold and darkness shun. Farewell, farewell ! but ere we part, I take the lesson to my heart, Nor wish in this cold world to stay ; Still onward, with obedient flight, Spread my glad wings for scenes more bright, Where God sheds one eternal day. i) li 36 THE DESOLATE HEAET. WHO knoweth the pang of the desolate heart ? She who hath toiled through the weary day With household cares for one that's away, Who hath bent o'er the pillow of infantine sleep, Aiid then in her loneliness turneth to weep, And count the dull hours till her Lord's return, And watch how the fast waning tapers burn, At each passing sound she starts from her seat, And her pulses throb with a quicker beat, Por she fancies the clang of his courser's feet, Then hopelessly sighs as the cock's shrill tone Warns her to creep to her couch alone, Where she watcheth and prayeth for him the while, Who hath left her side for a wanton's smile Xeglected wife ! whoever thou art, Thou knowest the pang of the desolate heart ! Who knoweth the pang of the desolate heart ? THE DESOLATE HEART. .37 She who hath numbered her spring's young hours, And plucked the last wreath of her summer's bright flowers, In her maiden bower she sitteth alone, Musing o'er loves and o'er friendships flown. And broods on the past till the teardrops start She knoweth the pang of the desolate heart ! AVho knoweth the pang of the desolate heart ? He who, enthroned in His glory above, Came down from the regions of light and love. (Where hosts of bright angels awaited his call,) To sutler for man on this .sin-darkened ball, Alone, mid the thousands His bounty had fed, Creation's dread Lord, had no place for his head. Betrayed, denied, " forsaken and lied," By those who had shared in his daily bread, He who endured in that last dark hour " The sting of death" in its fiercest power, "Which wrung from His bosom that agonized crv, " My God, why hast thoii forsaken me," why ': j\'t>ir> enthroned in His glory above. He looks from the region of light and love ; He hath borne all thy sorrows. lie taketh thy part, He knoweth and healeth the desolate heart. 38 AUTUMN FLCTWEES. I LOTE the fair young buds of spring, And the tender green of the vernal bowers, "When the light breeze bears on his gossamer wing The odorous breath of the violet flowers. "When the primrose peeps from the mossy nook, And the pearly hawthorn scents the air, And the sweet brier hangs o'er the glassy brook, And blushes to find her cheek so fair. But the sweet young spring has a changeful brow, And the green buds shrink from her frowning face, E'en the venturous hyacinth crouches low, And wraps her bells in their silken case. I love the hour when summer glows, "When the bee and the butterfly revel in bloom, "When Zephyr sports with the laughing rose, And pants with his burden of rich perfume. AUTUMN FI.OWEBS. 39 But the green moss pules on the streamlet's brink, When the landscape is wrapt in a fiery ha/.e ; And the brightest blossom will fade and shrink, When the sun looks down with too bold a ga/.e. But autumn flowers, bright autumn ilowers ! The charm of your beauty is freshness and glow ; Ye are smiling on, when from fading bowers The yellow leaf whirls from the storm-shaken bough. Ye laugh in the sunshine, ye dance in the gale, Ve shake from your tresses the chill dews of night, Ye ga/.e undismayed when the tempests assail, And glow mid the darkness as creatures of light. As the long-tried friends of our youth ye stay, When the gauds of summer have spent their bloom, Like Angel spirits to bless our way, And brighten our path to the wintry tomb. 40 A SKETCH, DRAWN FROM LIFE BY THE SEA-SHORE. THE FISHEE'S WIFE. SHE stood and watched him from the beetling brow Of the tall cliff, and listened with fond ear, As, busied at his wonted task to fit His little light-winged skiff for the blue wave, He whistled sprightly notes, his heart's wild music, Sweeter to her, that untaught melody, Than all the varied strains of laboured art. It touched her simple bosom's answering chords, And told her of a thousand smiling things, Homeborn delights, endearing fireside joys, When resting from his daily toil, at eve, "With her he sat, and still with gentle words And sunny looks repaid her watchful cares. A laughing boy she clasps in her fond arms, And oft she breathes the fondly cherished name Of " Father," to the pleased and playful child, That points its dimpled hand to mark the spot, The well-known spot, where, on the pebbly shore, THE FISITER'S WIFE. 41 He spreads his nets and stretches the white sail. His gallant little skiff, the well-earned meed Of his industrious hours, with honest prido He views, and now his cheerful shout is heard, And instant bounding from the rugged side Of the steep cliff, his sturdy mates obey The wonted signal, and their captain's pride Dances already on the heaving wave. Ifc turns to gaze upon his happy home, And that fair form which crowned his household bliss ]\let his pleased eye; and that dear mutual joy, That sportive cherub with its rose-tinged cheek, Its sunny ringlets, and blue laughing eyes, Spell-bind his steps, how can he leave the shore, While that sweet vision lures him to return ? "With rapid stride he rushes up the steep, And once more clasps his treasures to his heart "With many a fond caress and loving pledge ; Then joins his waiting comrades, springs on board, And nives his swelling sail to the light bree/.e. 1 saw that gentle woman wipe the tears That slovvlv gathered in her deep blue eye; Thev came unbidden, for she was not sad ; Thev were the tender tribute of her love To him upon whose bosom she had leaned The minutes past, and he was gone to toil 42 THE FISHEB'S WIFE. A few brief hours for those he cherished most. K"o coward fears were trembling in her heart, She was a hero's wife, and that still wave, On which her husband's little pinnace sat, Like a blue halcyon calmly floating there, That azure mirror, could not shock her soul "With presages of dread, for she had seen That little pinnace, as a bird of storm Careering proudly o'er the crested waves, Dipping her white wing in the wreathed foam, And braving all the fury of the blast E'en in those hours a calm and holy trust Stilled the wild fears that throbbed her woman's heart. Now, all was tranquil, bright, and beautiful, And those soft drops which gemmed her fringed lids Pell on her cheek as dew upon the flowers, Brightening tbe roseate bloom that mantled there : Her earnest eye still followed the white sail, And the gay pennon streaming on the breeze, Till the bold jutting cliff, with envious point, Shut from her view the form beloved, and then Slowly she turned to seek her cottage home, And wing with household cares the lagging hours. Past was the morn's fair prime again I saw That youthful mother and that sportive child THE FISHER'S WIFE. 43 O'erlooking the wide sea : a change came o'er Its tranquil bosom dark'ning the blue wave. The wind was busy with her fluttering robes, And rudely scattered her dark silken hair ; And her fair boy clung closer to her breast. Black massive clouds hung like a mournful pall Over the deep, which the fierce howling blast Lashed into fury, and each yawning wave Shewed " like the grave of some devoted bark." The aged seamen gather on the clitf, And watch the progress of the awful storm. Here, a fond mother, there, an anxious wife Paces with restless step and straining eye ; "NVln'le many a dismal tale of goue-by storms, Of foundering vessels and their hapless crew, Of childless mothers and of widowed wives ; Fill with foreboding fears that trembling group. There were but tiro, whose bosoms were not wild "NYith dread of ill. One clapped his little hands, And laughed for joy to see the billows toss Their snowy manes on high, and the wild winds Chase the light frothy globes along the strand. The other, with a calm and steady ga/.e, Surveyed the elemental strife, her heart Fast anchored on the " Kock of ages," rode E'en like a gallant ship above the storm, 44 THE FISHEB'S WIFE. A hope sublime and holy smoothed her brow, A patient trust subdued her natural dread, And still she sought with cheering words to soothe The clamorous terrors of the gathered crowd, As if upon that black, perturbed sea Her own heart's treasure had not been embarked. So calm her bearing showed, that those unskilled To read the heart's deep mysteries, might deem Hers cold and passionless, but He who stilled Her spirit's tempest, knew that deeper love Ne'er dwelt in woman'sbreast than throbbed in hers. I saw her hastening to her lowly home, To trim the hearth, and rouse the cheerful blaze, To greet her storm-drenched mariner's return. And did he then return ? the cottage door AVas yet unclosed when a rejoicing shout Proclaimed a sail ! a sail! With breathless haste She flies regains the cliff, and knows full well The gallant bearing of that fairy barque, Though her dismantled mast stooped to the deep, And her storm-tattered sail clung idly there. On, on she dashes through the angry surf, And lands in safety her adventurous crew. A cry of transport bursts from Mary's lips, And the next moment sees the happy wife Shedding sweet tears upon her husband's breast. FAREWELL TO THE OLD TEAR, 1S52. TIIKRK are, who sunk in careless sleep Heed not, old year, thy passing knell ; Fain would I solemn vigil keep, To bid thee, dying friend, farewell. 1 would not have thee fleet away, Albeit thou'st eost me many a tear, "Without one tributary lay, One willow wreath to deck thy bier. It' ever in thy onward way Thy hand for me a garland strung, Rude storm-winds have forbid its stay, And far away the sweet gift Hung. The day hath had a frowning close, Which nii-t me with a smile at dawn; And if, perchance, I've plucked a rose, 31 v hand hath surely felt the thorn. 46 FAREWELL TO THE OLD YEAR, 1852. Farewell, harsh teacher as thou art, Thou shalt not from my memory flee ; Thou leavest me with a chastened heart, And therefore will I honor thee. 47 REMINISCENCES. WE trod together our flowery path In the sunny days of youth ; We loved, as young hearts only love, Witli pure confiding truth. Thou just escaped from school-day thrall, And / in girlhood's bloom, Met in my sire's ancestral hall, My childhood's happy home. What simple pleasures winged the hours Within our calm retreat, Our books, our pencils, music, flowers, Together shared, how sweet ! Oft in the sultry hours of noon, We trod the shadowy dell, Or 'neath the ''glimpses of the moon," We sought the hermit's cell. 48 EEMINISCENCES. Still paused we by the streamlet's brink, To watch the sparkling sheen, And see the willows stoop to drink, Which formed our leafy screen. Our star of life shone clear and bright, No shadows dimmed its ray ; "We felt no chill, we feared no blight, For all looked fair and gay. But time stole on, and thou must climb Ambition's giddy steep, And spend afar thy manhood's prime, And I be left to weep. Our farewell pledge was violet flowers, No vows dwelt on our tongue, No promise bound our parting hours, For these we were too young. Haply within our hearts might rise Hopes unexpressed, but fair ; We looked into each other's eyes, And read our future there. Tears passed away, and thou hadst won The deathless wreath of fame, And first upon the victor's scroll Appeared thy lofty name. REMINISCENCES. 49 Methinks I see thy stately form, And Hashing eye of pride, When glorious from the battle's storm Thou earnest to elaim thy bride. Oh ! with what joy did we retrace The paths our childhood trod ; We loved and praised fair Nature's face ; But we forgot her God. With warbling birds and wild flowers' bloom, And rippling streamlets clear, We saw an Eden in our home, Nor deemed the serpent near. Our air-built dome, too frail to last, Based on the shifting sand, .By life's first dreadful storm o'ercast, Lay wrecked upon the strand. My sire, who once thy suit denied, Would now that suit approve ; But ah! to feed vindictive pride, T/ti/te, sacrificed our love. Oh! scalding are the tears that start When life's young dream hath lleil, They well, like life-blood from the heart, AuJ leave it seared and dead. K 50 The purpose of thy life o'erthrown, Thy dream of joy was past, My ardent heart was turned to stone ; Then frenzy came at last. Whilst thou the wine-cup madly drained To drown thy careless grief, A dreary blank to me remained, And then, there came relief. But honour calls, and thou must go To India's burning shore, To win fresh laurels for thy brow, And thus we met no more. And though with one who sought me long, I found a peaceful home, And gave to him my grateful love, 'Twas love without its bloom. Thou'rt wandering yet in distant lands, And I, a widowed wife, Count wearily my ebbing sands ; All me ! and is this life ? Hush ! murmuring heart ! nor seek alone The ills of life to bear ; Lay at the Cross thy burden down, t Thou'lt find thy solace there. 61 SONNET. THE NAMELESS ORATE. NOR sculptured marble canopies the head So coldly pillowed there, nor rustic stone Eecords the name of that departed one. The time-worn ruin from th' unhallowed tread Defends it ; but that low and cheerless bed No sun-glow brightens, a wan light alone Gilds the grey arches, when the full-orbed moon Flings shadowy mysteries o'er the nameless dead. No verdure smiles on that neglected sod, But wreaths of mournful ivy clasp the mound, And a young grove of elders gather round As if to watch o'er the unhououred clod. Sleeper ! thy name is registered with God, And then shalt waken at the trumpet's sound. 52 STANZAS. I WANDEEED by the ocean side, And watched the billows ceaseless roll ; The solemn murmur of the tide Made music suited to my soul ; Each strong emotion of the breast Was sweetly calmed and hushed to rest. 1 traced upon the yellow strand The names that fond remembrance gave, And marked how soon the treacherous sand Would yield them to the sweeping wave ; Onward it rolls, and now the shore detains those cherished names no more. 1 thought on days long passed away, On love's warm hopes and friendship's glow ; Fair flowers ! that mocked my youthful day, Where is your nattering beauty now ? Full many a bud I've lived to see Wither or bloom no more for me. 8TAX7AS. 53 Hearts are grown cold that lately seemed To leap with joy at my advance, And eyes that once with fondness beamed, Now turn a cold, averted glance ; These things have cost me many a groan, But now their bitterness is gone ! Change is inscribed on all below, Yea, death in everything I see ; Then why should earth attract thee so, My heart ? what is this earth to thee ? Its cares and joys, its hopes and fears, All vanish when thy Lord appears. Thou canst not rest, poor fluttering thing, The swelling waves forbid thy stay ; Still must thou stretch thy feeble wing, Still onward ily thy weary way ; Thou, trembling Dove ! shalt find no rest Save in the ark, thy Saviour's breast. TO . YEABS have rolled on, and we have met, But not as we were wont to meet ; Coldly we bade farewell, and yet, As though we could not quite forget When intercourse was free and sweet. And is it thus we meet and part, My early friend, and art thou gone ? Thy love still twines around my heart ; These tears attest how dear thou art ; I've only loved thee less than One ! One who hath shed his blood for me, And claims me to be all His own ; One who hath set my spirit free Prom earth's delusive vanity, And bids me seek a Heavenly crown. That One e'en more than thee I prize, And for His sake thy loss can bear ; Then let us part ! yet to yon skies Thy friend will raise her suppliant eyes, And pray that she may meet thee there. TO ILLUSTRATE A PAINTING OF TWO FROGS SITTING UNDER A MUSHROOM. Two frogs which had spent their whole lives in a feu, Remote from the dwellings of civilised men, Beginning to find such seclusion a bore, Determined to quit, and set out on a tour; So a council was held by the whole croaking nation To discuss the great subject of frog-emigration, As a means of correcting confined education. The point was well argued on one side the question, "When a sage-looking frog rose to make a suggestion. " We have dwelt," said the elder, '' in comfort and ease, In this pool, whence we pop out or in as we please, And our ancestors here lived contented and free, For no nation on earth can be freer than we. Should we venture to stray from this peaceful retreat. "Who knows what disasters and toils we may meet ': My mind is, that every well-judging frog Be content where he is, and still stick to the bog." 56 TO ILLUSTBATE A PAINTING. Th' assembly was struck with this splendid oration, And croaked in full chorus their just approbation. So the council broke up and abandoned the scheme, Save the two restless spirits that started the theme. Said Croaker, " This antediluvian lore Comes well from a doting old frog of fourscore. But Froglings of spirit should scorn such weak trash ; For me, I'm determined to made a bold dash. The moon is just up, it is very fine weather, So make up your mind, and let's hop off together." " Agreed, but be silent, for fear of detection ; If our parents awake, they will raise an objection." So off went the friends quite light-hearted and gay, And talked of the wonders they met by the way ; They travelled all night by the light of the moon, And cleared the morass just before it was noon. The day was so sultry, that Spruwly was fain To pause and just stretch his long shanks on the plain, And they both thought with secret regret on the pool AVT.ere their kindred were basking so charmingly cool ; Said Croaker, " I spy a delicious retreat, Yon mushroom will shelter us both from the heat ;" TO ILLUSTRATE A. PATNTTXO. f>7 So they squatted beneath, and so ample its spread, That it formed quite a canopy over each head ; They sat on their haunches and looked just as grand, As if they were monarchs of Faery land. Quoth Croaker, " How travel enlarges the mind! And the appetite too, I'm beginning to find." Said Sprawly, " Let's peep out for something to eat, A breakfast were now a delectable treat. " " Hush ! hush !" whispered Croaker, " don't make such a fuss, Or yon monstrous bird will make breakfast of us." A Heron just flapped his broad wings o'er the waste, So the comrades sneaked back to their shelter in haste, And skulked till the scream died away on the blast, But popped out as soon as the danger was past ; And though somewhat feeble, resuming their route, Returned to the theme they were talking about. Said Croaker, " I own 1 am fired with ambition To make the yrand tour, as befits my condition. A Frogling of rank should know something of life, Before he sits down with his children and wife ; My pedigree dates from the reign of ' King Log," And your ancestor was a most valorous Frog." " Yes, truly," said Sprawley, " the deeds of my sire Were worthy the great Grecian 13ard to inspire, 58 TO ILLTJSTBATE A PAINTING. Who Bang their exploits on his heroic lyre ;' But methinks I would barter my ancestral fame For a good meal of slugs now, for what's in a name When the stomach is empty, and craving for food ? So pray let us try to find something that's good." They hopped up a hillock, and saw with delight A broad sheet of water so cooling and bright ; But Sprawly shrank back from some objects he saw Skimming over its surface, and silenced his craw. Said Croaker, " Friend Sprawl, you know nothing, I see, Be tranquil and leave our safe convoy to me ; Those monsters you speak of, which make such bold dips, Are snug floating houses, by mankind called ships ; Let us hop to the water, and since we need rest, We will call for a boat and take passage to Brest." So his friend taking courage hopped on by his side, And they joyfully bathed their tired limbs in the tide; But poor Croker's Flotilla soon sailed on their track, And gobbled up both with a satisfied quack. Thus folly and pride lured these frogs to their doom ; So youngsters beware of a passion to roam, Be content in your youth to learn wisdom at home. RECIPE FOE A SCEXT JAR. Go to thy garden's perfumed bowers, When Spring awakes the laughing flowers, Cull the sweet blossoms, ere they fade, Of violets lurking in the shade, Pale primroses that love to dwell On shady bank or weeping dell, Cowslips that lure with honied breath The wild bee rover from the heath ; Aspiring lilacs which exhale Arabian spices on the gale; The fair Syringa's breathing flowers, That emulate Ausonia's bowers, And when the ripening summer glows. Snatch from her breast the peerless rose. Its blushing petals freely shower, Amid the fair and fragrant store, "With jasmine blossoms silvery white, Like stars upon the brow of night. 60 RECIPE FOE A SCENT JAB. Go where the clustering woodbinds twine, Where blushes the wild eglantine, Where mignonette sweet breath exhales, And lavender the sense regales ; Where wall-flowers grateful odour fling, And stocks allure each insect wing. Take them while yet their radiant eyes Gaze on the fair unclouded skies ; Soon as their worshipped sun appears, To kiss away the morning's tears. Now let a vase of ample size Eeceive the beauteous floral prize, Then strew o'er all, with liberal hand, The spicy spoils of India's land, But most the snowy mineral* shower, That wondrous life-preserving power ; So in the hours of wintry gloom Shall summer's breath pervade the room ; When the bright sun has chased the dew, Each morn the pleasing task renew, Till the sweet blooming time is o'er, Or the full vase can hold no more. * Bay salt. 01 TO THE BEE. OH welcome to my noontide seat, Thou child of sunbeams wild and free ! That lov'st to woo each floral sweet, Gay wanderer, how I envy thee ! A honied load is all thy care, Thy roughest path mid perfumed bowers, Thy hardest toil to skim the air, And roam o'er beds of fairest flowers. Stay stay awhile thy restless wing, And let me still thy murmur hear ; That murmur is the voice of spring, Oh ! it is music to my ear. A thousand odours with that sound Come floating on the western breeze, A thousand blooms are scattered round, And buds of promise gem the trees. 62 TO THE BEE. Oh happy bee ! what bliss is thine, For thee the blushing queen is born, Securely on her breast recline, Tor thee she points no treacherous thorn. I see thee flit o'er sunny beds, To kiss the violet's eye of blue ; I see thee bend the primrose heads, To sip that flower's delicious dew. Now clinging to a cowslip's bell, Now in a jonquil's bosom laid ; Now in a woodbine's fragrant cell, Where thy loved sunbeams kindly played. Go seek the wall with garlands drest, Where spreads the peach her liberal bloom ; There flit about, profusely blest, Then bear thy golden treasure home. , Oh welcome to my noontide seat, Thou child of sunbeams wild and free, That lov'st to woo each floral sweet, Gay wanderer ! how I envy thee ! 63 OX READIXO SOME LTXES IX CEXSURE OF THE LATE LOUD BYHOX. AND is that master-spirit fled ? Ami bowed to earth that lofty head, And mute that tongue's imperious tone, And sunk that brow's dark withering frown, And quenched that eye's excursive glance, Which ranged Creation's wide expanse ? That eye where frenzied genius shone, Kindling whate'er it glanced upon, As when the storm's dark shadowy wing Awakes the wind harp's answering string, JSo his inspiring numbers came, Thrilling each chord of feeling's frame, Till that wild music's influence stole Like a strong passion on the soul. Ye blighters of his fame! forbear! Would ye the mouldering relics tear 64 ON THE LATE LOED BTEOK. From earth's kind sheltering breast, and tread "With reckless footsteps on the dead ? Think ye the partner of his vows, Or that "lone scion of his house," Will joy to find reproach and shame Follow the memory of that name ? Will not their generous feelings spurn The rude disturbers of his urn ? Will not their gentle bosoms bleed, And shudder at such heartless deed ? Oh ! let the weeping marble hide All that was not his country's pride. Whate'er he did, or spake or wrote, That charity would wish forgot, Oh breathe it not ! let silence steep Its memory in oblivious sleep. Perhaps in that last solemn hour, When earth's delusions charmed no more, And swiftly from his glazing eye Kolled off each shadowy vanity, That erring spirit " knew the rod," And owned and blest the Christian's God. The secrets of that hour are known To that just God, and Him alone, And shall be till that awful day When heaven and earth shall pass away ! OTX TUB LATE LORD BYIlON. G5 Proud genius may a lesson find, From the sad wreck of that vast mind ; That mighty mind whose giant grasp Could learning's ponderous tomes unclasp ; That powerful mind whose noontide bla/.e Dimmed all contemporary rays ; That powerful mind could not discern AV r hat humbler lleav'n-taught spirits learn. Not all the light by science given, Can guide man's wandering feet to Heaven. 66 SONNET TO NIGHT. OH, niglit, I love thy dark and silent reign, When all the tedious din of life is o'er ; When the tired world sinks 'neath the charmed power Of tranquillizing sleep, that chases pain From the sad sufferer's brow and crowds his brain With images of joy, thine are the hours When. Fancy loves to twine her wreathed flowers, Ah ! let her not invoke thine aid in vain ! To me more lovely is thy ebon brow, Though not a star thy diadem adorns, To me more welcome than the orient glow, When Phu/bus flings his tresses on the morn, For thy waste silent hours escape control, And spread the banquet to my hungry soul. . 07 TO MY BROTHER, A. J., WITH FLOWERS. I HAVE ransacked the beds, I have ravaged the bowers, To find brother Ambrose the fairest of flowers, To brighten his cell while their beauty shall last, And to live on his canvas when life shall be past ; But, alas for my boasting, I find, to my cost, That the brightest and best have been nipped by Jack Frost. The morning rose fair, and the noon-tide was bright, The evening with blushes had ushered in night ; The stars shone out clear, and each sharp-pointed ray Gave hints of the pranks Frost intended to play. That demon of mischief already was near, He peered from the moon with malevolent sneer ; From his thin, shrivelled lips these stinging words came, That chilled every blossom and thrilled through its frame. " These minions of Flora, that cut such a dash, That have smiled through each storm, and shook oil' each rain plash, F 2 68 TO MT BEOTHEB. I will pelt with white stones, till I make them turn pale, And hang their pert heads, as the flower of the vale. Rose de Chine, a relation of summer's bright Queen, Still simpers and blushes, and tries to be seen. But I'll pinch her soft cheek till I make it turn blue, I'll teach her to mimic her cousin's bright hue \ Ton Fuchsia that towers with pride o'er the ground, Like a Chinese pagoda with bells hung around, I will give such a shock from his toe to his crown As shall change his rich crimson to dull tawny brown ; There is Lady Anemone decked out so bright, AVith her splendid mantilla of scarlet and white, But I'll tear it to tatters, and strew them around, Till torn and dismantled she stands on the ground. I'll blacken the fringe of her tall stately stem, But in mockery leave her that rich diadem. Polyanthus, the fop, has just perked up his head, AVith his new velvet wideawake, yellow and red, AVith lu's pale green santoir, and affected grimace ; But I'll give him a squeeze that will blacken his face. Primrose, his fair sister, meek child of the dale, Already I've kissed her and made her turn pale ; And I've sent the poor rustic to hide her young head AVithin the green folds of her canopied bed. TO MY BROTHER. GO There is Pansy, the dandy, in purple and gold, Who changes so often his dress, I am told, And affects to look young, though he's full twelve months old ; But he looks in my face with so saucy a leer, I will leave him alone till the end of the year. And there is the Violet, pensive and sweet, Just venturing forth from her leafy retreat ; But I'll give a rebuff to that forward young tiling, That shall keep her in bed till the advent of spring. And there is Forget-me-not living hard by, Beginning to open her merry blue eye ; But I'll frighten her so, to her couch she will creep And I'll give her a dose that shall lengthen her sleep. Chrysanthemums flaunting in colours so gay, "With a touch of my finger shall wither away." So spake the fell fiend, and his pestilent breath Directly consigned his poor victims to death. The rest of the train heard his menace with dread, Each dropped timid tears and declined her fair head; But some more robust survived the dark hour, And shook their bright locks, and still laughed at his power. So I send you my best, and I trust, gentle friend, They'll arrive ill good order and answer your cud. 70 LINES WRITTEN IN THE LONG- WINTER OF 1814. YE leafless bowers, ye blootnless vales, Te desolated plains ! Where Winter, breathing icy gales, Prolongs his tedious reign ; Still through the dark, the joyless day, Th' unvaried landscape I survey, I watch the fleecy shower ; When will the tyrant quit the scene ? Oh, when shall Spring, with smile serene, Your ravaged charms restore ? Tell me, ye dim, snow-laden t'rees, That stretch your widowed arms ; Will ye e'er flutter in the breeze, With renovated charms ? Ye mournful shrubs ! will ye resume Your vivid green, your various bloom, And flourish as before ? Ye sleeping flowers, that hide the head Beneath the cold earth's frozen, bed, Will ye e'er blossom more ? THE LOXO WINTER OF 1814. To choristers ! that fill the grove "With anthems to Almighty love, Why are ye mute so long ? "When will morn's herald pierce the sky, And from that deep blue canopy Pour the full tide of song ? Ye fair, ye rainbow-tinted things ! That skim the pool with glancing wings, Or hide amid the bowers, Ye lovers of the garden's bloom ! When will ye burst your silken tomb, And revel with the flowers ? Ye chartered pilferers of the gold That Flora's jewelled coders hold, Awake your bugle strain ! Ye countless winged sprites appear ! With hum and \n\/./. enchant my ear, And tell of Summer's reign. ALONE. THE morning smiles alone ! alone ! I gaze upon the sparkling sheen Of diamond drops profusely sown O'er all that decks the rural scene. My heart responds to Nature's voice ; Yet how can I alone rejoice ? I stray amid the woodland bowers, I hearken to the wild bird's lay, I search each nook for hidden flowers, And treasure every blooming spray : I praise their beauty with a groan, For ah ! I view them quite alone. f They greatly err, who say " the heart, When it has found communion high, Can freely with its loved ones part, Nor needeth human sympathy." Ah ! He who strung its trembling chords, Knoweth these are but dreamy words. ALONE. 73 No rebel tears are these I shed, Father ! to Theo I dare appeal ! While to thy stroke I bow my head, Thou will'st thy chastened one should feel. T kiss the rod and own it just, But my heart bleeds and weep I must ! There is a high, mysterious life, Beyond the life that worldlings know ; A peace unharmed by outer strife, While fainting nature owns the blow. Fast falling tears may dim the eyes, Yet soars the spirit to the skiea ! FAEEWELL TO 1858. FABEAVELL, farewell, old year ! thou art tlie last Dim, tarnished portion of the brighter past, An iron link in that same golden chain Of time, which I must never count again. And I am free ! free the wide world to range ! But to the captive, liberty seems strange. I shrink and hide within my lonely cell, And feel I loved my fetters but too well. I am no more the stately fostering tree, Beneath whose shade fair blossoms clustered free, Around whose trunk would fondly clasp and twine Green ivy wreaths, and loving sweet woodbine. Through many a storm, that tree, more firmly bound, Hath seen its leafy honours scattered round ; But when ungentle hands the rough bark tear, The mantling wreaths flaunt wild, the wounded trunk stands bare ! The unclasped garlands for a moment droop, But youthful plants instinct with life and hope, FABEWELL TO 1858. 75 With searching tendrils, float in air awhile, Clasp the next prop, and then look up and smile. But the dismantled tree, in lonely pain, Bleeds at the core, and spreads its arms in vain ! 76 I LOATHE IT, I LOATHE IT. I WOULD NOT LIVE ALWAYS." On, take me, Father ! take me home ! I have no portion here ; It irks my spirit yet to roam This desert lone and drear. My best-beloved are gone before, And some who prized me well, Their looks of love shall never more Brighten my lonely cell. Oh bear me to my Mother Earth, Her arms shall wrap me round, Till I shall spring to glorious birth, Waked by the trumpet's sound. My panting soul with outstretched wings Awaits her call from thee, And spurning earth's inferior things, She longeth to be free ! "I WOULD NOT LIVE ALWAYS.' Free to dissolve in that pure breath From whence her being eame, Till Thou, who eonquered sin and death, Eeauimate this frame. Oh blissful union ! wondrous change ! When shall fruition be ? When shall this glorious being range The fields of air with thee ? Lord, grant me patience to fulfil The measure of my span ; My only quest to know thy will, And carry forth thy plan. A few brief years of toil and strife Perhaps for me remain, Then shall I rise to eudltss life, Aud never weep again. 78 TO MY FOSTEK-CHILD IN HEAVEN. MY child ! what bitter tears I shed, Yv r hile thou, in restless pain, Wer't tossing on thy fevered bed, And I not near, to bathe thy head, And cool thy throbbing brain. I might not kiss thy burning brow, IS or clasp thy hand in mine, Nor join the prayer God only heard, Nor say the " fitly spoken word," AVhen consciousness was thine. Oh ! had'st thou heard my well-known tongue, Soothing thy transports wild, Thy wakened love had backward sprung To her who o'er thy pillow hung, "When thou wert yet a child. TO MY FOSTEB-CHILD IX HEAVEN. If e'er thy young warm heart hath owned A thought that made thee pine, I might have probed thy bosom's wound, And thou a safe relief have found, 111 trusting it to mine. To me! who trained thy infant years, And watched thy girlhood's prime, Kead in thine eyes thy hopes, thy fears, Fathomed thy wishes, dried thy tears, And tau< r ht thee truths sublime. O Ah, did'st thou not one record keep Upon thy wandering brain, Of her who hushed thy baby sleep, Of her whom thou hast left to weep In solitary pain ? And must I never more behold That beaming look of thine ? Those clustering curls of wavy gold, Those earnest eyes, whose quick glance told The soul's rich sparkling mine? Thy bounding step on Heathy Hill Shall never more be found, Xor lingering by the mossy rill, With ready pencil tracing still The graceful forms around. 80 TO MY FOSTER-CHILD IN HEAYEN. My gifted one ; in few I find, Whatever their degree, Who, in the native powers of mind, In works of skill, in taste refined, Can more than rival thee ! And thou, sweet girl ! ere thou could'st climb Life's rugged steep, art gone ! Stopped in thy course in blooming prime, While I, the wreck of grief and time, Drag my existence on ! Hush, murmuring heart ! 'tis not for thee To question or repine. Father in Heaven ! 'tis thine to see The fitness of thine own decree, Be meek submission mine ! A few brief years, and these sad eyes Will sleep their last long night ; Then my freed soul will upward rise, Meet its lost treasure in the skies. And dwell with her in light ! 81 "SHE IS NOT DEAD, BUT SLEEPETH." SHE sleeps, but not as once she slept, When feverish cares perturbed her breast ; Then, on a couch of down she wept, And oft with pain sad vigil kept. She sleeps ! and nought can break her rest. She sleeps, the green sod wraps her round. And coldly pillowed is her head ; But oh ! her sleep is sweet and sound, No storm can shake that deep profound, No cares disturb that narrow bed. What though the Form we loved so well Must mingle soon with kindred dust : Angels shall guard the lowly cell AVhereiu those crumbling ashes dwell, Till power Divine redeem the trust. 82 " SHE IS NOT DEAD, BUT SLEEPETH." That precious seed shall ne'er decay, 'Tis sown in hope, 'tis watched with care, Till it shall rise on that great day, When God shall wake the slumbering clay, And clothe it with a form more fair. We will not weep as some may weep, Whose hope expires with closing earth ; May we like her " in Jesus sleep," " In sure and certain hope" to reap The glories of our Heavenly birth. Xow, let us raise our mournful eyes, And trace the spirit freed from clay ; Lo ! she hath won the Heavenly prize ! She meets her Lord in Paradise, And He hath wiped her tears away ! KETKOSPECTIOX. Ix early day, when life was young, AVhen hopes were unsuspected wiles, When Pleasure like a syreu sung, Aud wore a radiant mask of smiles I knew not that enchanting light Was but the meteor's transient glare, That shoots athwart the vault of night, But leaves no trace of brightness there. But ere the morn of life was past, Pale sorrow dimmed each specious ray ; And disappointment's withering blast Whirled the sweet flowers of Hope away. Awhile I wept my joys o'erthrowu, But tears soon fail in youthful eyes, And youthful hearts, unwout to groan, From sorrow's touch elastic rise. 84 EETEOSPECTIOX. I gave to earth my heart again, IVew friendships formed, newpleasures planned; I leaned on " hroken reeds," and then Grieved that they pierced my trusting hand. When deeper woes obscured my day, When all my cherished hopes had fled, The Eye of Mercy Avatched my way, The Arm of Might my footsteps led. Oh ! when I deemed myself alone, That Arm sustained my sinking form ; When every earthly stay was gone, I sought a refuge from the storm. I wandered in this waste of woe, And found no place of peaceful rest, Till Grace illumed my path, and now I lean upon my Saviour's breast. Hope comes, commissioned from the skies, To dissipate my spirit's night, But turns from earth her radiant eyes, And points to scenes of purer light. The dearest joy this heart can know, The fondest bands that love can twine, Lord, at thy feet I lay them low, Take all I have, and be Thou mine ! 85 COMPOSED IX A G A EDEN. Trs not the blossom-scented breeze, Nor rainbow dyes of flowers, 'Tis not the shade of vernal trees, Nor melody of bowers, Though fragrant, soft, and fair they be, That makes this scene so dear to me. It is that He, the wondrous " Word," That called them out of nought, The presence of Creator's Lord Irradiates the spot. There have 1 sought His face in prayer, And He has deigned to meet me there. There's not a little (lower that springs Within this cultured bound, Nor warbling bird, nor tree that flings Its graceful shadow round ; But in its Ivmg 1 can prove Some token of Jehovah's love. 86 COMPOSED IN A GARDEN. The lily o'er her lowly bed, That bends her spotless form, Tells me of Him who bowed His head Beneath wrath's dreadful storm ; And when the Queen of Summer glows, I think on " Sharon's matchless Hose."* When clouds retire, and sunbeams bless, And Morn her freshness flings, I see the " Sun of Righteousness With healing on His wings." That glorious Sun ! whose potent ray On darkness pours the living day ! I think, when 'neath some sheltering tree, I shun the noontide power, So may my soul to Jesus flee In every trying hour ; Beneath His shadow take her seat, And taste His fruit and find it sweet, f Or when tli' aspiring cedar quakes Beneath the ruffling north, Or gentle south each blossom wakes, And calls its spices forth ; So with my soul The Spirit strives, And every drooping grace revives. J * Canticles, ii. 1. f Canticles, ii 3. J Canticles, iv 10. COMPOSED IX A OABDEN. S7 I hoar in every ^bird that sings The raptured notes "of praise ; Each insect opening its " glad wings " To sport in summer rays, Unites with angels round The Throne, To glorify the " Three in One." " All thy works praise Thee," oh my God ! And I that chorus love ; But oh ! to quit this earthly load, And join the choir above, There to behold Thee face to face, And sing the triumphs of Thy grace. When faith is swallowed up in sight, Then shall those joys be mine, Then on '' The Bride " with cloudless light, ' The Bridegroom's " face shall shine. No tears shall veil Him from Her eye, And hope shall in fruition die. 88 STANZAS FOE SACEED MUSIC. WAND'BINQ o'er this waste of sadness, What the weary pilgrim cheers ? "What can raise his soul to gladness, Chase his doubts, and dry his tears ? 'Tis the glance beyond to-morrow, "Tis the upward eye of faith, Piercing through the cloud of sorrow, Smiles at danger, welcomes death. Faith can joy in tribulation, Tracing still a Father's part, Triumphs in the dear Eelation, Clasps the promise to his heart, Fears not though a host assail him, Safe in that unchanging love, Which shall ne'er forsake nor fail him, Till he sit with Christ above. 89 COMPOSED IN THE PROSPECT OF AN UNEXPECTED KECOVEEY FBOM ILL- NESS. AH ! where are the scenes so alluringly bright ! The visions of glory that dawned on my^view ! Alas ! they are wrapped in the shadows of night, And I see them but distantly glimmering through. My spirit exultingly thought how her chains At the voice of the Bridegroom would quickly bo riven ; And I smiled on the fever that raged in my veins, For I hoped 'twas the chariot tobearme tolleaven. No longer this earth had a share of my love, All its conflicts, its hopes, its enjoyments, were o'er : 1 saw in Faith's vision my mansion above, Where sickness and sorrow should grieve me no more. 90 ON BECOYEBY FEOM ILLNESS. I saw the bright portals thrown open for me, And " Him that was slain " in the midst of " the Throne ;" "What sweetness ! what love in His face did I see, "When He saw my white rohe, and proclaimed it His own. Methought the bright myriads that worshipped around, Gave glory to God for a sinner brought home, While this song made the glorious Temple resound: " Come in, thou redeemed one ! for yet there is room !" But ah ! while these scenes all my senses engage, And my soul, as a bird, soared to regions of day, Health came like a foe to rebuild this dark cage, And she languishes still in her prison of clay. Farewell ! ye sweet visions of glory and bliss, Methought a few hours would have made ye my own ; And must I return to a desert like this ? Oh world! how insipid! how trifling thou'rt grown ! Must I still play my part on this mutable stage, And mingle once more with my brethren below ? Must I still in the spiritual conflict engage, And groan 'neath the weight of my indwelling foe ? ON RECOVERY FROM ILLNESS. 91 Cense, murmurer, cease ! thou proud rebel, be still ; Presume not to question the Kighteous Deeree ; Oh, Father! conform my whole soul to Thy will ; Then life, as Thy gift, shall be precious to me. What though the crown glitters not yet on my brow, And the golden-stringed harp is withheld from my hand, They are mine as securely as if I could now With Jesus my Saviour in Paradise stand. Safe, safe in His keeping they're laid up for me, And I soon shall His power and faithfulness prove. My own they are sealed by Eternal decree, And my Lord's is a fixed, an unchangeable love. Thy glory, my God, is the end of my days, To Thy glory I'd live, to Thy glory J'd die ; May the time Thou'st assigned me be spent to Tl.y praise, Till Thou call me to join in Thy praises on high ! SUMMER EVENING BY THE SEA-SHOEE. A SUNNY beam yet lingers in the west, A trembling glory gilds the distant groves, And Ocean, tranquil as a heart at rest, Breathes the low murmur meditation loves. Eve's deep'ning shades are stealing o'er the wave, The moon is bright'ning in the deep blue sky ; The busy, ruffling gale has ceased to rave, And the white sail glides swift and noiseless by. In this delicious hour of calm repose The mourner's eye awhile may cease to weep ; The wounded heart may slumber o'er its woes, Nor heave one sigh responsive to the deep. Now soothed remembrance broods o'er vanished days, Reviews each form beloved, each blissful scene, A word a glance with fond devotion weighs And lives regretted moments o'er again. SUMMER EVENING BY THE SEA-SHORE. 03 If the pale mourner on a scene like this Can gaze, with tearless eye, from anguish free ; To peaceful bosoms, what an eve of bliss ! Oh how cxtatic must such moments be ! For still as Memory sighs o'er parted hours, Hope lingers near with liberal hand the while, She strews th'untrodden path with fairer flowers, And lovelier prospects brighten in her smile. TO C. C. 'Tw.vs not the spirit of a love unblest, Chanting the funeral dirge of earthly pleasure 'T\vas not the anguish of a lonely breast Mourning the absence of its dearest treasure, That waked the trembling chords of that sad measure. Not that the deep-toned plaints of settled woe Wrung from the tortured heart that hopes no healing, But quiet tears, whose mild and tranquil flow, In brightness from the eye of sorrow stealing, Soothe and embalm the wounds of tender feeling. Well hast thou deemed it was a withered flower That , waked the thrilling sigh those notes are breathing ; I snatched a glowing rose from Friendship's bower, The fair deceit its thorny mischief sheathing, While on my heedless brow its buds were wreathincr. TO c. c. 95 That rose of beauty in the past's dark tomb With many n kindred flower haa long been sleeping ; But on the parent tree an embryo bloom Of future blossoms 'neath the leaves are peeping, Their infant charms with tears of Heaven weeping. E'en like that rose, the moments that are fled, As fair their hue, as fragrant and as fleeting, And forms as bright Hope's magic pencil spread As those sweet buds beneath their leaves re- treating, AVhile on their tender bloom the storm is beating. Though the dishevelled rose lie pale in death, Though on her faded cheek no blush be glowing, let in her bosom lives delicious breath, So from past joys a fragrance still is glowing, AVhile memory all their early bloom is shewing. THE FAEEWELL, Go go, I feel 'tis best to part, Dear friend ! how dear, I may not tell. Alas ! how can I teach my heart To bear that dreaded word, " Farewell !" The blood must not forsake my cheek, No tear must in my eyelid swell, No tell-tale sigh must dare to speak, How painful is the word " Farewell !" When upon me, with parting gaze, Thy dark expressive eyes shall dwell, How shall I meet their softened rays ? How shall I see them, look " Farewell !" When some fair maid in distant land Pours on thy ear soft music's spell, Eemember her whose trembling hand Awaked for thee the strain " Farewell !" When on the moon-illumined stream Thine eye with pensive gaze shall dwell, Think how we watched her gentle beam Oil ! think upon our last " Farewell !" 97 IMPROMPTU, TO S. T. ON HER BIRTH-DAY. 1822. HAPLY, dear girl, thy ardent heart With many a wish is beating, And Hope tor thce a garland twines, Of (lowers fair and fleeting. Haply thou deem'st the fervent prayer, Breathed from true friendship's bosom, Should be that thou may'st taste the fruit Of Hope's expanding blossom. For tliee I ask no earthly good, No sublunary pleasure, Nor friendship true, nor faithful love, Nor health, that choicest treasure. 1 will not wish thee length of days, Though warm the love 1 boar thee ; Thy friend, Susanna ! has but one, One single wish to spare thee. 11 98 IMPROMPTU. This, this, is still my earnest prayer, And oh ! may grace receive it ; That He who bore the curse for thee, Would give thee to believe it. Oh ! what a gift were this, my friend ! Beyond all thought it rises ! 'Tis Christ himself! who in Himself All other gifts comprises* If Christ be thine, Jehovah T s thine, And nought His love can sever ; Then " present things, and things to come," Are thine, and thine for ever ! SONNET. How sweet ! to watch the Sun's slow lingering beam Stream o'er the west, and evening's bashful brow Ilia farewell kiss receive, with roseate glow, And timid flowers, that of late did seem To shun with downcast eye his fervid gleam, Now lift their heads and blended fragrance throw. To bless the breeze that half forgets to blow ; Reposing on their sweets, the sleeping stream No whispering leaf awakes. Oh moments bright ! "When Contemplation heavenward lifts her eye, And tender Memory, with rapt delight, Turns her full page, dear melancholy joy ! Still be thou mine, when day's retiring light Gleams faint and tremulous in the western skv. 11 2 100 TO THE ROBIN. WAEBLER of the rosy breast, and the merry spark- ling eye, Of all the birds I love thee best ; Eobin, shall I tell thee why ? When the minstrel of the night from our groves has taken flight, When the merry Thrush is mute, hushed the Black- bird's mellow flute, When the seraph Lark no more his hymn of rap- tured praise doth pour, Then I hear thy cheerful lay, trilling through the wintry day ; Then I see, in many a row, thy tiny footprints in the snow. Duly as the morning comes, to seek thy dole of scattered crumbs, There thou art with head awry, and frequent hop and glancing eye ; TO THE UOniN. 101 Trusting Eobin, come thou still to my well-spread window sill. "Well thou know'st there's nought to fear, thou art ever welcome here, AVarbler of the rosy breast! this is why I love thee best. 102 SHE MOUENETH IN SECEET. THIS eye is never seen to weep, The world believes me gay ; Within its chambers dark and deep, My bosom's secret sorrows sleep, Hid from the garish day. But oh when darkness wraps the skies, My restless couch I seek, Xight ! thou art witness to my sighs, My clasping hands, my streaming eyes, My pale, disordered cheek. When peaceful bosoms find repose, I count each gloomy hour, And if o'erspent with bitter woes, My weary, aching eyelids close, Touched by the " balmy power." Ah me ! in visionary skies Unreal splendours gleam, While phantom flowers gaily rise I start, I lift my languid eyes, And mourn the vanished dream. IMPROMPTU. Ix vain for me is nature robed in green, In vain for me each vernal bloom appears, Ah me ! how dimly are their beauties seen Through the sad medium of my falling tears. Sweet Woodbine! wreathing o'er my fav'rite bower I twined thy garlands with a heart at rest ; Sweet Rose ! I trained thee from thy infant hour, And thought to wear thee on a peaceful breast. 'Tis not for me to pluck thy earlv bloom, Tis not for thee to blossom o'er a heart Whose hopes lie withering in the dark, cold tomb Hopes, sweet and fair and fleeting as thou art. 104 A BOAT SONG. SET TO MUSIC. LIGHTLY o'er the azure tide Skims our fairy boat, Gaily on the summer air Her silken pennons float. Look ! Low the bright Sun Tints the golden west, And curtains with purple His couch of rosy rest. Eobed in light, the Lily Queen Lifts her diadem, Like Albion's fair and royal Dame, Begirt with many a gem ; The Avavelets gather round her, And shield from danger nigh ; She's throned amid the waters, And heav'nward lifts her eye. A BOAT 8OJTO. 105 Sweetly on the heated brow Fans the twilight brcex.e, Softly to his whispered vow Sigh the bending trees. Xoir, while the moonlight Gems our sparkling way, Rest we on our glancing oars, And chant our vesper lay. Hark ! hark ! the dancing waves Have caught the choral strain, And Echo from her mountain caves Reflects it back again. Xoic let our light bark AVave her snowy wing, And pour we forth our wild notes, Like joyous birds of spring. 106 TEANSLATED FBOM THE FEENCH. OH ! that I were a little bird ! Beneath thy window every morn New melodies should wake the dawn ; I'd pour my raptured soul to thee, And thou perhaps wouldst list to me, Were I a little bird. Oh ! that I were a little bird ! Thy steps I'd follow to the mead, Where thy pet lamb thou'rt wont to lead, To browse upon the flowery grass, And there the sultry noon I'd pass, Were I a little bird. Oh ! that I were a little bird ! At eve my tuneful breath I'd hold Within thy curtain's snowy fold ; Thence to thy fairy slipper creep, And pass the night in blissful sleep, Were I a little bird. 107 STANZAS SET TO MUSIC. STARS of heaven ! books of light ! Let me read your pagea bright. Say, does Laura ga/.e on ye ? Does she gaze, remembering me ? Could 1 read some message fair Her bright eyes have written there ? Eyes whose sweetness o'er my soul In light of dangerous beauty stole. Oh ! what joy my heart would prove ! Oh ! how blest in Laura's love ! Rose of beauty, tell me why * Laura blushes when I sigh. Is it seorn that fires her brow ? Is it Love's responsive glow ? Go, sweet rose, to Laura go, On thy leaves I write my vow ; If a kiss on thee imprest Bid thee welcome to her breast, Oh ! what joy my heart would prove ! Oh! how blest in Laura's love! 108 TO P - , WITH A KETTLE-HOLDEE, ON THE 14TH FEBEUAEY. thy trim kettle sings its dreamy song, And thy lip quaffs the tea's refreshing balm, May pleasing memories around thee throng, And o'er thy heart diffuse a soothing calm, Clasp in thy hand this token of good will, "Which seeks from evil taint to guard it still ; Welcome it, Lady, though of homely frame, Humble alike its office and its name. True to its trust, 'twixt thee and harm it stands, To guard from steam or stain thy gentle hands ; Apt emblem of thy friend, whose loving heart Would gladly shield thee from affliction's dart. Though taste and Nature's instincts may combine \ To bid thee seek some other love than mine, Yet shalt thou never find a truer Valentine. 109 STANZAS ADAPTED TO MUSIC. On the merry, merry village bells ! How that peal my sad heart swells, Calling from the tomb of years Memories fraught with smites and tears. Oh the merry, merry village bells, What a tale thy pealing tells ! 1 flippy bride that beareth now The white wreath on thy fairer brow, Mav this peal in future days Fill thv heart with grateful praise. Oh, the merry, merry marriage bells, How that sound thy young heart swells ! But should their altered tones awake The knell that bids the fond heart ache ; Lift from earth thy tearful eyes, Hark ! the anthem of the skies ! A tale of loftier jov it tells. More musical than marriage bells! 110 COMPOSED ON HEABING THE BELLS ON CHEISTMAS MOBNING, 1859. WELCOME, auspicious day ! Day of the Saviour's birth ; Let the glad air the sound convey Through the wide range of earth. Lift up your voice, ye bells, Ye sacred fanes resound, Till the full pealing chorus swells Triumphantly around. Sing on, celestial train ! Circling the radiant Throne ; My heart responds the hallowed strain, To mortal ear unknown. And shall it be my own, To join that white-robed Throng, Cast at His feet my starry crown, And harp th' untiring song ? THE BILLS OK CHRISTMAS MOBNIKO. Ill Shall such a one as I, So weak, so frail, so base, Wave the bright palm of victory, And wear the robe of grace ? Dwell with the blest above, From sin for ever free ; Shall I behold His looks of love, Who lived and died for me ? While hopes eternal and sublime Such healing balm impart, No more the fleeting cares of time Shall desolate my heart. Still as I tread the thorny way, No more by doubt opprest, I'll look above the stars, and say, Yonder 'a my place of rest. 112 SOLEMN MUSINGS. OH Thou ! who sittefch on that dreadful Throne, Whose pillars are eternity ; oh thou Whose mighty arm upholds the universe ! Embracing all the varied forms of being, From the archangel to the insensate clod ; Oh tell me, shall Thy creatures of the earth, The dwellers of this mystic orb, e'er know 'The secret springs, the complicated chains That bind, propel, restrain this vast machine ? Shall they e'er grasp the mysteries of mind, And reconcile, without a shadowy doubt, Volition's freedom, with th' Eternal will ! Whence these high aspirations of the soul, This quenchless thirst to know ? are they of Thee? Creator ! Father ! Author of all good ! I would not lift to the high throne of God A bold, enquiring look ; behold I bend Low in the dust, and raise a suppliant eye, Father ! instruct thy child, nor let me lose SOLEMN MfSINGS. 113 My wandering spirit, in the doubtful wilds, Th' inextricable maze of human thought ! I look around upon this wondrous world, Beautiful in its changes! whether fair Spring Unfolds her laughing buds, or Summer glows In plentitude of bloom, or Autumn wreathes The vine's rich clusters in her yellow locks, Or Winter stalks o'er the white mantled plain, And sends his voice amid the trembling woods, Oh Earth ! how beautiful in all thy forms ! Whether thou lift thy mountain heighls sublime. Mocking the gorgeous clouds that float beneath, Or sink into the fair luxuriant vale, Or stretch in wild interminable wastes, Or deep green woods, impervious to the day, Or lighter groves, whose graceful shadows sport "With sunbeams glancing on the limpid brook Thou wondrous world of waters! deep, sublime ! Circling with giant arms the beauteous earth. What unseen force enchains thee in thy bed, Thou raving maniac! leaping to the blast, Hurling with desperate and remorseless po\ver. Like drifted weeds upon the fatal rock. The floating castle with its living freight, Tossing in scorn thy hoar and shaggy locks. And shouting forth thy laugh of savage L r le'.'. I 114 SOLEMN MUSINGS. Sublimely dreadful in thy angry mood Art thou, great Ocean ! but thou hast thy phase Of tranquil beauty, of voluptuous calm. The passionate throbbings of thy mighty heart Are stilled, and then thou liest in thy quiet bed, Dimpling and smiling in thy blissful sleep, Like a hushed infant on its mother's breast, Breathing soft murmurs in its dreamy joy. Then mirrored in thy crystal depths are seen Things wondrous, quaint, and beautiful ! Myriad on myriads batten on thy stores, And every floating weed and feathery spray That clothe thy sparry grots are teeming all "With wondrous forms of strange, mysterious life. And thou, ethereal Vast ! whose azure vault Bends with maternal care o'er earth and sea, Thou bearest on thy brow that eye of flame "Which radiates heat, and light and life, and thence Glides forth the Queenly Moon from her cloud canopy, Gilding the ocean wave and flooding earth, And sprinkling tree and tower with holy light. And ye remoter worlds ! ye countless stars, Beautiful mysteries! say what are ye ? "What is your mission ? what your destiny ? Are ye the ' ; Mansions of Oar Father's House," SOLEMN MUSIKOS. 115 Of which that blessed Elder Brother spake, Who said, " I go your places to prepare ?" There is such calm enchantment in your looks, As to the ga/.er seems to promise rest, \Vhen Earth, your fallen sister, shall arise, Chastened and purified from penal fire, When she hath yielded up her precious trust, The buried seed of ages, to be clothed afresh In robes of glory, fitted to receive The spirit pure and holy, that, enshrined In the Eternal bosom, still awaits The promised blest reunion, shall not lie "Who called ye forth, great host of rolling worlds, People your orbs with blissful, endless life ? Great God ! it is enough for me to know Thou art of life and love the bounteous source, Thou hast no sympathy with pain and death, Thy great creative power went forth to bless, And Thou wilt perfect all thy grand design. 116 COMPOSED IN SICKNESS. WELL, be it so I'll not complain ; And yet, to cheer the couch of pain, Me thinks I could awhile have borne The rigour of a bleaker morn. But oh, my soul ! though many a plea May keep my dearest friends from me, Yet have / One, whose watchful love Would never from my side remove. He smooths the pillow for my head, " Makes in my sickness all my bed ;" His everlasting arms beneath AV r ould be my firm support in death. My voice so feebly meets the ear, Attention's self may fail to hear ; But One my every want supplies Before my faint petitions rise. COMPOSED iy SICKNESS. 117 Weakness may need support awhile, And even kindness dread the toil ; Hut One untired, One faithful breast, Would yield me an eternal rest. My weak complainings tire and grieve The friends who cannot all relieve ; Hut One invites me to complain, And sweetly soothes and heals my pain. My kind Physician ! Brother Friend ! On thee for healing 1 depend; Thy precious balms can soothe my heart, Though anguish tortures every part. And while thy faithfulness I prove, ' Thy banner over me is love ;" Not all the storms that o'er me roll, Shall from her refuge shake my soul. In sorrow's or temptation's hour, AVhile my frail nature owns its power, The anchor of my soul shall be, Firm ' ; Kock of Ages," iixed on thee ! 118 A BALLAD. THERE was feasting and song in the baron's halls, And the lamps poured a flood of light, And odorous flowers festooned the walls ; But the sweetest and loveliest blossom of all Was the baron's daughter that night. There was many a dame of regal port, And maiden of beauty rare ; But Blanche appeared in such a sort, As the Queen of beauty holding her court, And they but her handmaids fair. Oh ! many a fairy foot did bound To music's joyous tone ; Fair Sylph-like creatures floated round, But neither form nor step was found So graceful as her own. And many a voice awoke in song To the harp's inspiring swell, Bearing the raptured sense along, But Blanche, amid that warbling throng, Was the soul-stirring Philomel. A BALLAD. 119 The noble, the wealthy, had sought her hand, And yeomen gallant and tall, But little recked she of broad sword or broad land ; To her the red gold was but shining sand, And coldly she looked on them all. Did scornful pride so rule her breast That she frowned alike on all ? Ah no! one image her heart imprest, Which threw its shadow on all the rest, And he was her father's Thrall ! Of goodly presence was he in truth, And lofty and noble his air ; The Baron retained the stranger youth As Ranger of park and woods, forsooth, Nor dreamed he of danger there. " Raymond the Ranger" was all the name He e'er at the castle bore, And whenever in <|iicst of svlvnn game, In park or wood, the Ranger came, Blanche would be there before. She comes to search for earlv (lowers, And strawberries wild and sweet. And thus she whiles the sultrv hours, Amid the warbling woodland bowers. A staii-hoand at her feet. 120 A BALLAD. And aye she pats the noble hound, While he with speaking eye Licks the fair hand that gaily wound A flowery chain his neck around, And bids the captive lie. Ah, gentle Blanche ! thy words are vain, When eager for the race, With one glad bound he bursts the chain, As Raymond stalks along the plain, Accoutred for the chase. And still the Ranger lingers nigh, And bends with conscious grace, While with slow step he passes by, Well pleased to meet her downcast eye, And mark her blushing face. One rosy eve Blanche sought her bower, Where cooed the turtle-dove, And Philomel her soul did pour ; Truly it was a witching hour For youthful hearts that love. In secret Raymond watched hard by, And heard, 'mid musings sweet, His murmured name, with gentle sigh, And instant, with astonished eye, Blanche sees him at her feet. A BALLAD. 121 "With faltering tongue he then made known The secret of his heart, And how to call her love hia own, lie freely would renounce a throne, And from all glory part. " Oh say that thou wilt be my bride," He said with bended knee. Then Blanche arose in stately pride : " How canst thou dare, base churl," she cried, " Speak such wild words to me '? Rash youth ! if to my noble Sire This insolence were known, Thy life were forfeit to his ire, By steel, by poison, or by fire ; No mercy would be shewn." Proudly he stood as Mountain Pine, Housed by this bitter scorn. ' Lady, my blood is pure as thine, 1 sprang from e'en a loftier line Than that in which tlum'rt born. A cloud o'ershades my present life, The past is as a dream, Thy pride is with thy love at strife, No vassal asks tliee for his wife, 1 am not what 1 seem." 122 A BALLAD. Then to her wondering ear confest, Why he in base disguise Unknown must for a season rest ; Then fervently his suit he pressed, With pleading voice and eyes. She gazed upon his princely mien, His high and noble brow, His steadfast eye assured and keen, And sought her blushing face to screen, Love only triumphs now. Her trembling hand she placed in his, Who clasped her to his heart, And sealed the bond with love's first kiss. Oh ! in that sweet delirious bliss, How hard it is to part. But hist ! a rustling, crackling sound, As of some footstep near, While Raymond fiercely glares around, Blanche from his side with sudden bound Flies like a startled deer. And thus upon the festal day They met, and sighed to part, For she must lead the revels gay, And he in solitude must stay, And school his jealous heart. A BALLAD. 123 Antl pearls have wreathed her bosom fair, Anil clasped her anna of snow, And gems are blazing in her hair, But Blanche tor these doth little care, He must not see her no\v. 'Mid the festive throng was a stranger guest, With a bearing of lofty degree ; " I come. Lord Baron, as liketh thee best, To join in thy revels and dance with the rest, Or measure broad swords with thee." " Welcome, Sir Knight," the Baron replied, " Thv bearing is bold and free, It were fitting to lav thy valour aside, And choose from this circle of beauty's pride, The fairest thy partner to be." " My noble host," said the Stranger Knight, " Thy garden of beauty is rare, Its roses and tulips may da/./,le my sight, But the lily's robes are of woven light, And that is the flower I would wear." The stranger glanced around the hall, Till the Ladv Blanche he found, lie sought no more 'mid short or tall, Hers was the form amongst them all That his vision of beaut v crowned. 124 A BALLAD. He takes her band with trembling grasp, And her cheek wears the rose-bud's glow, Ah ! well she knows that tender clasp, And the sweet breath came with panting gasp, And her cheek is pallid now. The Baron marked her changing hue ; " My child, what aileth thee ? Nay, lead oft' without more ado, Thy partner noble is, and true, Thou owest him courtesy." JN"ow Bruno, Kaymond's favourite hound, Who tracked with mournful cries His missing Master's footsteps round, With tail erect and nose to ground, Straight to the castle hies. He scratches at the half-closed door, Nor heeds the festal din, The blazing lamps, the pictured floor, The courtly figures gliding o'er, Fearless he rushes in. He looked not right, he looked not left, But like an arrow fleet Straight through the crowd his way he cleft, And fawning on the stranger guest, Lay crouching at his feet. A. BALLAD. 125 The Baron's brow grew black as night, And wrathful flashed his eye. " I know thee now, base stranger wight, Unmask thee, churl ! and no true knight, For this thou'rt doomed to die." Forth rushed four stalwart serving men, To bind their master's Thrall. Fierce as a lion in his den, With savage growl roused Bruno then, And sprang upon them all. " Down, Bruno, down !" the Hanger said, *' What Fortune brought thee here?" AVith courteous mien he bowed his head. And paced the hall with statelv tread, While all stepped back with lear. For Bruno, still his jealous guard, Stalked grimly by his side, With bristling coat and teeth all bared, To keep each foe at bay prepared, AVhatever might betide. "Thy taunting words, my noble host, 1 pardon thee outright, But know a lineage I boast Noble as thine, and oft in joust Have proved myself true knight. 126 A BALLAD. " In days of yore our Louse I ween Hath been to thine a foe ; For this I sought my name to screen, For this have I a Ranger been, To win thy milk-white Doe. " For her dear love I've served thee well, These twice twelve moons and o'er ; For her sweet sake content to dwell Like Hart within my sylvan cell, And could for evermore. " My sire now sleepeth his last sleep, Be thy feud buried there ; Of wrong, the brave no record keep, "When Death's cold hand in Lethe steep The grievances that were." " Broad are my lands, my arm's renown Will not belie my race ; Grant me thy daughter for my own, Freely I'd barter Scotland's crown, To win from thee this grace." In bitter scorn the Baron cried, " liather than child of mine To thy accursed race allied, Should grace thy halls and feed thy pride, Her death-doom I would sign. A DAM.AD. 127 " Mv only son thy father slew, And shall I end the strife ? No to my purposed vengeance true, Thy father's heir shall have his due, I claim thy forfeit life." " Now choose thee on the gallows tree Thy airy dance to keep, Or torn hv blood-hounds would'st thou ilee, Or in the donjon pining be, Till thy last rotting sleep ?" ' Sinee my life's blood thy ire must slake, Baron. I'll sell it dear ; I dare thy thralls my life to take ; Thine o\vu, for thv fair daughter's sake, From me hath nought to fear." " Bold youth, thus far I'll do thee grace, And then our parley's done; Far as the bridge 1 grant thee space, To keep unchecked thy stately pace, Then counsel thee to run." Blanche clasps her hands in mute appeal, And seeks her father's eye ; That eye was cold and hard as steel. That vengeful heart no ruth could feel, Then came a piercing cry. 128 A BALLAD. And lowly sinking on her knee, " Oh spare his life," she cried ; " The stroke that sets his spirit free, As surely will my passport be, Not death shall us divide." " Hence to thy bower, I was to blame, I deemed thee pure and good ; Thou art a scandal to my name. Plead not for him, fond fool, for shame ! Think on thy brother's blood !' " In youthful heat thy noble son Provoked that luckless fight : 'Twas in fair field the deed was done, In knightly honour lost and won, The victory of that night." Thus Raymond, as with footsteps free He gained the water's side ; Up goes the creaking drawbridge high, The Porter laughs with mocking eye, All egress is denied. Ten archers range on the castle wall, With barb and bended bow ; " Swim for thy life !" they loudly call. " Swim ! Caitiff, swim, thy chance is small,' The Baron shouts below. A BALLAD. 129 He plunges in the flashing wave, Hut another form is there ; An angel form is come to save ; She cries aloud, " True men and brave. Shoot boldly if you dare !" That spectral form, like wreath of snow, On all has laid a spell ; The hound's unslipped, unbent each bow, Js'o danger threatens Kaymond now, Sweet Blanche is loved too well. She walks the waters by his side, But soon no footing found. " Wind thy white arms round me," he cried, " And mine shall bufl'et with the tide, And bring thee safe to ground." Free on the waters all unbound, Bright streamed her sunny hair, Her silken kirtle fluttered round, And floated on, like a snow-white swan. The fearless maiden fair. And they have swam the moat so wide. And safely gained the shore ; One moment are their forms descried, AV'ith Bruno pacing by their side, And then are seen no more. 130 A BALLAD. The Baron raved and tore his hair As he beheld his child Thus for her love so boldly dare, And each gay reveller rent the air "With shrieks or accents wild. Alas ! for that unhappy sire, Blind fury rules his breast ; Parental love is lost in ire, All night he feeds th' unholy fire, As if by fiends possest. But morning comes, and with it grief That will not be supprest ; His looks are wan, his words are brief, The wassail bowl brings 110 relief, The couch of down no rest. JSTor sylvan chase, nor hawk, nor hound, To him. can pleasure give ; All former joys are tasteless found, Since she to whom his heart was bound, For him has ceased to live. But hatred to his ancient foe Hath dried affection's spring, And though he pines in lonely woe, 5Tet he disdains to seek her now, Who left his sheltering wing. A BALLAD. 131 And now "Fit/allan, free as air, Abandons all disguise, Soothing her grief with gentle care, Straight to a holy father bare Jlis fair and fainting pri/.e. The wondering Priest their story hears, Their dripping garments dried, With holy words dispelled her fears, And ere the morning sun appears, "Blanche is Fit/.allan's bride. A Prince is lie in his domain, With nobles at his call ; And Blanche in royal guise doth reign, Surrounded by a courtly train. The fairest of them all. And she is blessed in her liege lord, And blest in her is he; All the delights of life outpoured Upon the loving pair are showered, r Who bounteous are and free. Thus was their wedded life begun, And then, to crown the rest, Before twelve moons their course had run, Fit/allaii sees his infant son Clasped to his mother's breast. 132 A BALLAD. And Blanche assumes the pleasing care That tender mothers shew, And bending o 'er her blossom fair, She weeps to think Fitzallan's heir May ne'er his grandsire know. She knoweth now the yearning love Which throbs a parent's heart, That steady fire all flames above Nor guilt can quench, nor absence move, To smoulder or depart. Pallid and wan grows Blanche's cheek, And sunk her heavy eye; Her step is slow, her nerves are weak, She feels a grief she dares not speak, Save in a faltering sigh. She pines for him, the lonely one, Her childless greyhaired sire; She broods o'er days for ever gone, When nis fond eye indulgent shone On all her young desire. She longs to bathe his hand with tears, And clasp his honoured knee; To win acceptance for her lord, To hear him speak the pardoning word, And bless their progeny. A. BALLAD. 133 Fitzallan marked her altered tone: " Sweet love, declare to mo What is thy wish ? it shall be done: Is there a good beneath the sun, I would deny to thee r" " Oh ! bear me to my lather's seat, To seek his dear loved face, To bathe with duteous tears his feet, A blessing for our child entreat, For us forgiving grace! So will my cheek renew its bloom, My heart be light and free; His daughter to an early tomb A father's curse would surely doom, It presseth heavily." Six prancing steeds were harnessed straight, Swift on their way they went ; Fit/.allan and his lady wait A parley at the castle gate, And forth a white Hag sent. Before the year its course had run, The Baron's anger past, lie yearns to clasp his only one, To own Fit/.allan for his ^on, And heal the feud at last. 134 A. BALLAD. A messenger he sends before, Bearing tbe flag of peace ; And words of pardoning grace lie bore, "With welcome to a father's door, And love no more to cease. Upon the bridge the white flags meet, And glad shouts rend the air, The Baron comes his guests to greet, Fold to his heart his daughter sweet, And bless Fitzallan's heir ! 135 TO WE have met, my friend, and the lapse of years, And the sorrows that open the fount of tears, Have sprinkled our locks with grey ; But our hearts are yet green in their fadeless truth, And the kindly feelings which blessed our youth, Not yet have passed away. Thou art sad, my friend, and thy drooping ga/.e Too painfully telleth of cheerless days, And the lonely spirit's blight ; Our path in life hath been wide apart, But we each know the throb of a sensitive heart, And feeling which shrinks from the light. Springs there no flower in thy desolate way ? Warbles no bird its J leaven-taught lay, To cheer thy lonely hearth \ Then turn thee to Him, whose bleeding brows AV'ore a chaplet of thorns for thy soul's repose, lie can make thee a Heaven on earth. 136 TO . Then cheer thee, dear friend of my early youth, Drink deep from the fount of eternal truth, Thy faltering steps to aid. Oh ! lift thine eye to the realms above, And seek in those regions of light and love For the flowers that never shall fade. 137 JUVENILE POEMS; PRINCIPALLY WRITTEN BETWEEN THE AGE OF 'TEN AND SIXTEEN YEARS. OX THE DEATH OF MY BELOVED MOTHER. COMPOSED IN MY TENTH YEAR. IN yon churchyard lies my best friend, Too worthy in this world to stay ; 'T\vas God's owu will her life should end, So bore her sainted soid away. And now above she happy soars, IVrhaps looks down with pitying eye, To see how many still deplore The hapless day that saw her die. Alas ! the partner of her life, Long must he pine in lonely grief, Still must he mourn his dear lost wile, Till in the disclose. And while 1 yet admiring stood, To watch her form maturer grow, The blushing lli>.\ret. as L viewed, "With deeper blushes seemed to glow. i. 146 THE TLOWEE GARDEN. Next morn I rose and sought the spot Which lately gave so much delight ; Ah ! as I went, I little thought To view the ravages of night. Nought of my favourite could I see, Till looking earnestly around, I viewed the poor forsaken tree, And Rose-leaves scattered on the ground. 'Tis thus, alas ! with joys we prize, Thus life's fair flowers are blooming gay ; But when misfortune's storms arise, The withered blossoms strew the way. 1-47 TO A ROBIX WHICH DROPPED ON THE FLOOR IN A HALF FROZEN STATE. POOR little Bird, thou com'st in woful plight, Thy trembling limbs are numbed by the chill wind ; Here sleep securely through the wintry night, "Warm as my hearth the welcome thou wilt find. Come, trembler, come, and warm tliee in my breast. Needless thy doubt, and vain thy timid fear ; Oh let that fluttering heart subside to rest, Welcome, my little favourite, welcome here ! Be my companion while the drifting snow Mantles the scene ; for ah ! thy natal trees All'ord no food nor shelter for thee now, With hunger thou must pine, with cold must freeze. 'Twould please me much to see thee sit and preen Thy rosy breast and plume thy glossy wing ; Or perched upon my chair or loftier siTf-en, Thine own wild notes melodiously sing. L 2 148 TO A ROBIN. I'll shelter thee from cold and every -wrong, I'll spread thy little banquet day by day ; When spring returns repay me with thy song, And thou shalt freely hop from spray to spray. No latticed cage my Eobin shall confine, Free shall he be to take his early flight ; Breathe the fresh air upon the lofty pine, Or taste the ripened berry's sweet delight. Mine is no tyrant's hand to bid thee mope Within thy wiry prison's narrow bound, To watch thy feathered mates in freedom group, Rocked on the trees or fly their airy round. When the glad earth throws off her snowy screen And budding trees proclaim the coming spring ; Then, little Pensioner, shalt thou be seen, Hopping the turf and stretching thy free wing. 149 ON SEEING CHILDREN BUILDING HOUSES WITH CARDS. N builds some Innocent, in earnest play, The paper edifice with careful hands ; If chance an urchin, mischievously gay, Shake the unsteady plain on which it stands, Down in an instant falls each painted room, Each gilded column strews the faithless plain; Awhile the Infant mourns its ruined dome, Then with new ardour falls to work again, And thus it is in solitary hours Creative Fancy rears a structure gay ; She wreaths the pile with amaranthine flowers, And flings each thorn and noisome weed away, But should a step the solitude invade, Or foliage tremble in a ruder blast, The structure falls, the beauteous chaplets fade, Aud all the visionary bliss is past. 150 BUILDING HOUSES WITH CARDS. Oh, strange vicissitudes of joy and grief! For should that footstep die upon the ear, Or should the breeze be hushed that waved the leaf, Again the fair aerial forms appear. Oh, Fancy ! still at meditative Eve Renew thy work, so exquisitely fine ; Dull probability to others leave, Be thy enraptured visions ever mine. 151 OX A HEARTSEASE THAT BLOOMED THROUGH THE YEAH. THERE is a little, laughing flower, That tearless looks on Winter's face, And vainly strives the tyrant power To rob her of one simple grace. 1 marked her when the Autumn Hose Its lingering blossoms palely spread; I marked her when December's snows Fell lightly o'er her fro/en bed. I marked her when the ruthless gale Tore the dark branch from many a tree; ] marked her 'mid the pelting hail, The patient llower still smiled on me, As if she saw the future day, When wintrv storms shall sink to rest, When light-winged /.ephyrs softly play O'er blossomed sweets on .Muia's breast. 152 ON A HEARTSEASE. Now virgin Snowdrops newly blown, Bend toward earth the timid eye, As if they feared the parting frown Of their stern sire yet lingering by. Ere Winter from the scene withdrew, His icy fingers formed the flower, Spring streaked it with her emerald hue, And smiled and triumphed in her power. In gorgeous robes the Crocus drest, Now closes 'mid the changeful day, Now pleased expands her radiant vest, To catch the Sun's congenial ray. In softest purple tints arrayed, Close at their feet the Violet springs, And 'mid her leaves' luxuriant shade Her perfume on the breeze she flings. The Hawthorn falls in slender wreaths, Gemmed with fair Nature's darling hue ; The Primrose meekly lurks beneath, And bathes her paly cheek in dew. And near that flower so meek and pale, Fond Zephyr oft suspends his wing, The Cowslip's honied breath to steal, And breathe abroad the varied spring. ON A ITEAIITSEASE. 153 But those, when Summer heats advance, Ami Hoses blush with infant day, These, sinking 1'rom the fervid glance, Shall sigh their fragrant souls away ; While lliou, unchanged, unfading flower, "When all their timid beauties cease, Shall still adorn my favoured bower, And cheer it with thy smile of peace. Thus, while I mourn departed days, (Pale, faded flowers in fancy's eye,) Thus Hope with smiling patience stavs, And points to scenes of future joy. TO M. M., WITH VIOLETS. ERE the young buds revealed their purple hue, I marked, dear friend, these violets for thee ; Early each morn I hastened where they grew, And watched with tender care their infancy. But when bright Sol, to renovate the day, Appeared with splendour in the blue serene They gave their fragrance to his cheering ray, And burst at length their covering of green. With joy each spring I hail this darling flower, Its modest merit yields a charm for me, But doubly now I own its pleasing power, Since, Margaretta, it is prized by thee. 155 TO LAUKA. AN INVOCATION TO RISE. Now Morning, with refulgent eye, Looks up from Ocean's crystal caves, Ajid bids the rose-tinged vapours fly, And gilds the curtain of the waves. Laura, thy laughing eyes unclose, Rise ere the bright hues speed away ; Ah ! would'st thou give to dull repose The first, best moments of the day ? H se, that the balmy breath of morn May give her freshness to thy brow ; Lift thy light ringlets, and adorn Thy cheek with youth's extatic glow. Though Ocean smiles so blue, so fair, Not yet we'll rove his pebbly shore, For chilling gales still linger there, And tosd the foam-crowned billow o'er. 156 TO LATTBA. But when the winds no longer rave, Again we'll seek the murmuring strand, Cull the hright treasures of the wave, That gleam upon the golden sand ; , Or mark the sea-fowl's circling wing, And see her stem with snowy breast The azure tide, and wild notes sing, To charm the list'ning waves to rest. While yet the Spring is dim and pale, We'll stray amid our cultured bowers, Mark the first Snowdrop's graceful bell, And bless the pledge of brighter hours. Still as we view that flowret fair, Fancy's keen eye shall pierce the gloom, Hang with fresh green the branches bare, And deck the scene with Summer's bloom. 157 ON THE DESERTED COTTAGE ON DUN- WICK CLIFF. Ox the clifFs nigged brow, that o'erlooks the wide ocean, All wild and deserted a lone cottage stood ; Kounds its desolate walls the long grass was in motion, The li/.ard's and toad's unmolested abode. Ah, sadly it stood like the hall of desertion, AVithin all was silent, without all was still ; Save the billows' low musie, that seemed in diver- sion Each other to chase to the steep chalky hill. The light osier fence which the garden surrounded In withered disorder lay quite overthrown, Encumbering the borders it lately had bounded. And the paths with rauk nettles aud weeds were o'erirrowu. 158 THE DESEETED COTTAGE. One poor little flower to the desert soil clinging, Just marked out the spot where its sisters had been ; On the breeze its pale blossoms so carelessly swinging, As heedless of beauty that seldom was seen. As a maiden bereft of her kindred and lover, Still haunts the sad spot which received their cold earth, Still loves in pale grief o'er their ashes to hover. So watched that lone flower o'er the place of its birth. 139 TO SPKIXG. Oir, fairest of the year! delightful Spring! How oft thy name has waked the poet's song, How shall I dare attempt the joys to sing, And countless graces that to thee belong ! Yet when I view the eye-refreshing green. 1 That clothes the branches of yon graceful trees, And the fair blossom gaily peep between; Ah, how can I forbear mid scenes like these ? Alas ! I've little power thy praise to speak, Unskilled to touch the Lyre with magic art ; Yet the warm tear that trembles on my cheek, la the pure language of a grateful heart. Ye that can rove with cold, uusearching eye, "Whose frigid suuls fair Nature ne'er could melt, Who pass her beauties all unheeded by ; Will laugh at raptures which ye never felt. 160 TO But ye whose hearts a ray of feeling warms, Come rove with me o'er yon delightful plain, Where every hedgerow boasts a thousand charms, And every field is rich in waving grain. The desert heath erewhile so drear and sad, AVith golden blossoms is profusely gay ; The slender Harebell in soft azure clad, And Hyacinths their purple charms display. There on the yielding turf, with moss o'ergrown, The little Heathbell blooms with simple grace ; And Nature with a lavish hand hath thrown Unnumbered sweets to decorate the place. Far o'er the hedge with many a curling wreath, In wild luxuriance, the Woodbine grows ; The little Violet seeks the shade beneath, And fragrant Brier unfolds its blushing Rose. The Hawthorn sparkling in the dews of morn, The drooping Cowslip and the primrose pale, In sweet disorder all the banks adorn, And charge with balmy breath the playful gale. While o'er these scenes my eye delighted strays, Oh ! let me not forget by whom they're given, So every charm, that draws the curious gaze, May lift my soul in gratitude to Heaven. 161 TO MAET. Ou ! Mary, when this humble shed Shall hear thy gentle voice no more, "\Vheu thy light step shall cease to tread This garden's little boundary o'er Oh ! sometimes let thy fancy rove From happier scenes to this lone spot ; Oh, spare one little beam of love. To brighten this forsaken cot. Oh, spare one little tender thought. To hover o'er these drooping bowers, Deserted by the hand that taught Their shade to bless the sultry hours. "When thou art gone, thy sister's hand Shall foster well thy favourite tree, And while beneath its shade I stand. I'll breathe a fervent prayer for thee. M 162 ELEGY OX A PET LEVERET. SOO:N~ as thy timid eye beheld the light, Poor little orphan, mis'ry marked thy way ; Thy tender mother, hurried from thy sight, To savage greyhounds fell a hapless prey. Then by the fond maternal care unblessed, Soon had thy little form resigned its breath, But soft compassion touched the sportsman's breast, He stretched his hand, and rescued thee from death. 'Twas mine to shield thee from the chilling air, 'Twas mine to act the nurse's tender part ; I fed, I watched thee with the fondest care, And hushed the throbbings of thy fearful heart. Ah, what availed the generous wish to save, The warm asylum and the fragrant bed ; Thy beating heart lies quiet in the grave, Where pitying flowers bend o'er thy lifeless head. ELEOY ON A PET LEVERET. 1G3 No Willow shades thy couch of lowly sleep, No Cypress spreads its dark funereal gloom, But the sweet Eose with tears of Heaven doth weep, And scatter o'er thy turf her earliest bloom. M 2 164 A SATIKE IN IMITATION OF HORACE. IMPKOMPTU. LESBIA, the little and the vain, Anxious a lover to obtain, Employs each female art ; Bedecked with silks, and flowers, and lace, She flits about from place to place, And tries each dandy's heart. Each fancied grace the nymph unfurls, With studied ease her countless curls In bright redundance flow ; Vain as that fly, of rainbow wing, That revels with the flowers of spring, She flutters round each Beau. She sees some active youth advance, And instant, in the mazy dance Her utmost skill she tries ; With languid swim, or airy bound, She seeks amid the festive round To lure some coxcomb's eyes. IMPUOMl'TU. 105 But Lesbia plays a different part, "When doumcd to practise on the heart Of Bachelor staid and prim ; She praises all his prudent w;'ys, .Her culinary art displays, And flatters every whim. Maid ot'the soft and flexile mind, llo\v kindly, still thou art inclined To cherish Sage or Beau. ; Aii cruel ! should the Fates ordain That little Lesbia should remain In cheerless single woe. Forbear, fond maid, these fruitless arts, (.'online thy powers to making tarts, Or garnishing a dish ; Scorn the vile sex! and take instead, A little Beau of gingerbread, And mould him to thy wish. 166 TO A FRIEXD WITH THE FIRST VIOLET. Tyrant "Winter quits the plain, And Spring resumes her gentle reign, I search each bank and hedgerow wild For thee, sweet flower, her darling child. The balmy breath of western breeze, That waved the flowers and kissed the trees, Revealed thee in thy shy retreat, And wafted me thy odours sweet. I saw thee bow thy modest head, To hide within thy leafy bed, And snatched thee from that sylvan bower, Sweet Violet ! purple-vested flower. Awhile upon niy breast recline, Awhile thy fragrance shall be mine ; Then, little favourite, must thou hie, Far from the scenes that gave thee birth, To soothe her heart, and please her eye, "Who loves thy unassuming worth ; TO A FRIEND. 107 And when thou shalt her bivast adorn, Say how I went at early morn, And tended thee with careful hand, And watched thy infant charms expand. And when, oppressed by solar rays, Thou languished in the noontide bla/.e, How oft the kind relief I'd bring, Of liquid crystal from the spring. Tell her, though soon thy bloom must fade, Thy dying odour must be shed ; Yet, if 'tis mine again to view Pair Spring resume her vernal hue, I'll search the spot where first my eye Glanced on thy wild simplicity, And rove the infant shades among, To find thy fairest sister throng. And sure their lot and thine were blest, To wither ou so true a breast. 168 "THE WIND PASSETH OVEK IT, AND IT IS GONE." THE Lark poured forth her melody, Oh ! 'twas a morning fair, The dew-steeped grass was scarcely dry, Serenely smiled the azure sky, No vapour floated there; But soon black clouds came rolling by, And thunder rent the air. The Ocean as it softly crept, A soothing murmur gave, So calm, so smooth, so still it slept, The Zephyr that its bosom swept, Scarce curled the silver wave ; Not long this peace the ocean kept, I saw it foam and rave. Where many a Sister flower grew, A lovely Eose I found, Still sparkling with the earlv dew, And far the blushing beautv threw THE WIXD. 109 HIT fragrant breath around ; A gust of lingering winter blew, And dashed her to the ground. Oli, may it teach my heart to prize Life's pleasures as they are, To ti\ my hopes beyond the skies ; Whatever griefs may then arise, Whatever ills I be:ir, I'll Keav'nward turn my wishful eyes, And lind mv solace there. 170 TO MAEY WITH A BASKET OF FLOWEKS. KECEIVE this basket, dearest Maid, With every Floral beauty crowned That scents my bower's delicious shade, Or blooms within the garden's bound. Fresh from soft April's gilded showers, The Violet see in vernal pride ; And Jonquils bright with golden flowers, Bend by the fair Narcissus' side. These, rich in ruby's deepest hue, Auricula with lavish bloom ; There Hyacinths white and azure blue, Mingle their tints and rich perfume. And there the flower of varied dye, Close by the Primrose pale and meek ; And there, in regal majesty, Anemone with glowing cheek. BASKET OF FLOWERS. 171 Conspicuous in her brilliant dress, The Heartsease lights up every flower; Oh ! may her presence ever bless My Mary'a path, my Mary's bower. 172 IMPEOMPTTJ. THOUGH Fate denied my humble prayer, To breathe the evening's perfumed air, Yet in your joys I have a share My Sisters ! This purple Thyme, and Violet sweet, Culled from the hedgerow's green retreat, "With added charms my senses greet My Sisters ! This Hawthorn, with its blossomed snow, Has brought my heart a warmer glow Than if these eyes had seen it grow My Sisters ! The simple gift so kindly made, To memory's cell shall be conveyed, And there its hues shall never fade My Sisters ! 173 LINES. I THOUGHT as I wandered from home, I had left every comfort behind ; And I wept at the merciless doom That tore me from beings so kind. The moments passed languidly by, And I longed for the hour of repose, For then unobserved 1 might sigh, And brood o'er my heart's secret woes. I could think on the days that are gone, The days I can never forget ; 1 could linger o'er joys I have known, Xor check the fond tear of regret. Thou pillow canst witness my grief. When my cheek thy kind refuge hath prest, Did its softness e'er give me relief? Did its smoothness compose me to rest ? 174 SUPPOSED TO BE WBITTEN BY A DIS- APPOINTED LOVER. WHERE are the tranquil joys I late possest ? Why does the ready tear unbidden start ? Why from my pillow flies its balmy rest ? And why art thou so sad, my fluttering heart ? Sportive as Zephyr on a summer morn, My heedless footsteps sought a fairy bower, I saw a Eose, and, reckless of the thorn, I bent to gaze on the fair, treacherous flower. Sure 'twas the sweetest bud that e'er revealed Its bashful beauty to th' admiring gaze ; But ah ! those charms the lurking foe concealed, That dim the prospect of my future days. While yet my youthful heart throbbed high with hope, And Fancy wove her wild, romantic scheme, Pale Disappointment came, and rudely shook The baseless fabric of my airy dream. WRITTEN UT A DISAPPOINTED LOTER. 175 "Wide o'er the scene she stretched her dusky wing, And breathed a poison on the coming hours, Like those bleak, chilling blasts in early spring That blight the fairest of her infant flowers. As the last beam that gilds the fading sky, When Phu-bus hastens to his western goal, So Hope's last ray still trembles in my eye, And sheds a lingering brightness on my soul. 176 LOVE'S LOGIC. On tell, tell me not of Love, My heart disowns the wayward power ; Through life's fair scenes I mean to rove, TJntempted by that treacherous flower. How oft the fair wild Eose we meet, All sparkling with the dews of morn ; Looking so innocently sweet, But ah ! beware the lurking thorn. Nay, talk no more of Love to me, It is at best a feverish dream ; Full swiftly would the vision flee, Chased by the morn of Reason's beam. Love as a foaming torrent seems Impetuous, rushing o'er a steep, But Friendship is a gentle stream, In whose calm wave the moonbeams sleep. LOVE'B LOGIC. 177 Hut what, Alexis, dost thou say, That Love with Friendship is combined ? And though with Youth Love speeds away, Vet Friendship still is left behind ? Ah ! plainly then indeed appears, To slight your counsel would be wrong, Since Love can gild our early years, And Friendship last our whole lives long. 178 LITTLE ALICE. A BIDDLE. LITTLE Alice is gone to her early rest, And a tear is in her eye, For the Sun has flung from the golden west The crimson folds of his gorgeous vest, And they float in the deep blue sky, And the child had gazed till it throbbed her breast "With emotions new and high. Little Alice has pillowed her glowing cheek, And she cannot choose but weep ; For her upturned eyes so blue and meek, 1 Are watching the change of each fiery streak That between the curtains peep, Till the sweet lids drooped like a closing flower. And she sunk in a tranquil sleep. Through her parted lips, as a rose-bud fair, Bedropped with pearly dew, The sweet breath passed like a spicy air, And stirred the ringlets of golden hair LITTLE ALICE. 179 That over her temples flew ; While the sultry breath of the summer air Heightened her roseate hue. Sleep on, fair child, for the time draws near When thou shalt sleep no more. Already a voice assails thine ear, Which is ever to thee a sound of fear, In the dreary midnight hour. Awake ! awake! thy foe is near, He hath wound his horn, he hath couched his spear, It is dripping with crimson gore ! He came like a pilgrim robed in grey, Hymning a vesper song; He stole to the couch where the young child lay Like a dew-spangled Hose or a sleeping Fav, And he mustered his blood-thirsty throng, "While the holy strain changed to a Roundelay, Fearfully shrill aud strong. Kight valiantly grappled the little maid With her tierce and wily foe, She uttered no cry, she sought no aid, While that furious troop the onslaught made; But she dealt them many a blow, Till many a glittering spear was stayed, And plumed helm laid lo\v. 180 LITTLE ALICE. Thus Alice spent the long, long night, And she joyfully hailed the day, When the Sun looked forth in a flood of light, And put her terrible foes to flight, Who stealthily sneaked away. But they vowed at eve to renew the fight, And furbished their blood-stained weapons bright, Whilst they in ambush lay. ^Reader, unfold the flimsy veil Which seeks to mystify my tale, And say who were the midnight foes That broke the little maid's repose ? 181 ORIGINAL ENIGMAS, CHARADES, ETC. EXIGMA 1. A ii ! once I revelled wild and free, O'er battle-field or flowery lea ; My graceful form no fetters bound, I danced in air or swept the ground. My sire, though somewhat old and grey, Had been a trooper in his day, And then it was a great delight To train his offspring for the tight, Teach me to parry thrusts and blows, And scatter our blood-thirstv foes. When he to sylvan sports inclined, 1 always followed close behind, Or if he figured in the race, 1 ever kept an equal pace ; Thus unrestrained my youth 1 passed, .But " life's young dream'' is tied at last ! 182 ENIGMAS. While I was sporting in my pride, Some wretch my fine proportions spied, Me by my locks the felon took, And my whole form he rudely shook ; Stretched on the rack my helpless frame, My stubborn will to bend and tame ; From all this suffering is it strange That o'er me came a wondrous change ? My form once flexile, now is tough, Bony and sinewy enough ; Once slender, now where'er I stand, I cover some extent of land ; Since from my parent I was torn, I am so altered and so worn, That those who formerly knew me, Would doubt of my identity ; Besides my pristine name I've lost, And bear another to my cost, For wheresoever it is heard, 'Tis smiled at as a tiling absurd. O I crowd the court, the park, the ring, In fashion's haunts I take my swing, Yet though grave folks affect to flout me, Yet very few will do without me. T.XIOMAS. 1S3 ENIGMA II. LOGIC through your wardrobe, lady am I there ? If so, perchance you seek the fact to hide, E'en as the proud man shirks, whene'er lie dare, The poor relation hovering by his side ; Hut when-fore should you thus disdain to own Companionship with honest folks like me ? Since from the humblest cottage to the throne, 1 hold a character for industry. I love the dwellings of the decent poor, For there I shew my face from censure free, And when I meet you at the cottage door, You seldom fail to kindly notice me ; But ah ! what sorrows cloud my latter days, When my strength fails me and when fades my beauty, Ungrateful man my services repays, With calling me vile names when past my duty ; Then after taking from me my good name, lie casts me out to roam the country round, Till as a vagrant I am brought to shame, Beaten and bruised, and fast in prison bound; Happy for me there's yet a day to come, When tried and puriticd I shall be free, And springing forth as from a living tomb, The Sage, the Bard, the Wit will honour me ; 184 ENIGMAS. But I must now resume my pristine name, And in a different phase your favour seek. I've been at court with many a noble dame, And unreproved have often kissed her cheek ; Though mild and plastic in my first address, Tet, statesman-like, I'm prone to stick to place . To oust me were no easy task " I guess," I dare to tell the Queen so, to her face ; But though my temperament is soft and bland, My warlike ancestors, whene'er they came, With civil discord filled this happy land, And fixed reproach upon their spotted name. I have some distant relatives, I'm told, But they are cross, and never can agree, So very little intercourse we hold, I love not them, nor do they care for me. My martial ardour perished long ago, And now I exercise the healing art ; No longer will I act as beauty's foe, Then never fear to take me to your heart. EXIGMA III. I AM a little elfish thing, Born and cradled in the spring, ENIGMAS. 185 And these maternal acts are done, For me in senses more than one ; MV infancy is wondrous strange, And subject to perpetual change; Hlack is my robe through every stage, Till [ attain my perfect age ; And then in motley coat 1 shine, Lustrous and smooth, and superfine ; But still of such a sober hue, A Quaker might adopt it too. My legs, though rather spare and long, Are agile, muscular and strong, As I have proved in frequent bound, When it's my will to clear the ground ; My eves arc' wondrous bright and clear, But all! mv mouth's from ear to ear; "When all the warbling birds combine, To celebrate Saint Valentine, I emulate the choral throng, With mv own deep sonorous song. But those who understood it best, Assert it comes below mv chest; Hut howsoever this mav be, It matters not to you or me ; i 1 ' or well 1 know mv welceme voice (."alls on all nature to rejoice ; 186 ENIGMAS. "While every Naiad binds her tresses With the fresh cooling water-cresses. I've figured oft in classic story, And have some claim to martial glory ; My ancestors have been a theme For a great epic poet's dream ! But boasting now is out of place, I must confess, to man's disgrace, We are a persecuted race ; Now some have dared t' assume our name, Who cannot any kindred claim, And time has been, when in this nation They took high military station E'en the " Great Captain" of our host Advanced them to an honoured post ; And though in tactics they'd no part, He bore them very near his heart. In battle-field I've heard it said, They never came, but on parade, Soft silken forms, in ranks they stood, Mere carpet knights that ne'er shed blood ; Permit me now in other guise To pass before your sapient eyes ; Without my aid your favourite steed Would shamble awkwardly indeed, And fail you in a case of speed ! ENIGMAS. 1S7 Thus if to travel so unable, 'Twere best to leave him in his stable What is my name ? cannot you tell ? Seek me, like truth, withm a well ! ENIGMA IV. I'M a repulsive being, it is true, Yet many bid me welcome to their door ; And though I am a churl, fair ladies, you full oft consign to me your choicest store. Lo ! I am changed, and now to me belong The laugh of revelry, the jovial song ; Hourly 1 ofl'er the enchanting cup, And reckless mortals throng to quail' it up. Now in another guise you'll plainly see The lirst musicians borrow help from me, And oft in feats equestrian you may trace High training from a brother of our race. Behold me now an object of affright, The wretched culprit trembles at my sight. Yet for mv notice some for years have sighed. And at my call attend with joy and pride, Now Proteus-like again 1 change my form, The dread of seamen in the ocean, storm, 188 ENIGMAS. While within view of their desired rest, I keep them tossing on the billow's breast ; Till some strong hurricane's opposing power Shake up my fatal bed, and drive me from the shore. ENIGMA V. I EOLI upon the gladsome earth When Summer fills her lap with flowers ; I glide upon the icebound flood When wintry blasts have stripped the bowers ; I float upon the waves of air, And hold communion with the sky, And far above the shadowy clouds That veil my form from mortal eye ; I say not 'tis myself to please That I these varied rambles take Unurged, I'm studious of my ease, And never an excursion make ; Oh no! in all my forms I need Some stimulant to urge me on ; Then oft I match the wind in speed, Or loiter leisurely along. ETflOMAS. ISO ENIGMA VI. I AM a little tiny elf, Sportive and harmless by myself; My course is brief as it is bright, If nobody obstructs my flight ; lint should 1 in collision come, With spirits that provoke their doom, My form dilates, my victims shrink, And shrivel at my slightest blink; No beast more furious than I, I've made the forest monarch fly. Fair Ladies, if report speaks true, My namesakes oft attend on you ; Beware of their insidious arts, Yield not too soon your trusting hearts Lest in the sequel you should pine At tyranny e'en worse than mine. ENIGMA VII. THE giiests were merry in Brandon Hall, And lamps were blazing bright, AVhen Emmeline stealthily left the ball, At a si r u from her own true knieht. 190 ENIGMAS. Softly she glides through the marble arch, "With a swift and noiseless tread ; Where the Kingly Oak and the tasseled Larch Their shadowy branches spread. The Moon had hung her cresset high, Gilding each arch and tower ; And smiling gazed with placid eye On lake and tree and flower. Fair Emmeline heard the sounds of mirth, As the revellers tripped along ; And she thought, " one moonlight walk is worth, A life of dance and song." She hied her to the trysting place, But nothing could she spy, Save the dark, dark pines and the boding owl Heavily flapping by. And thrice upon a name she calls, And her cheek was pale with fear ; For she has strayed from her Father's halls, And she finds no lover near. She wanders east, she wanders west, She sinks upon her knee ; Distracting terrors fill her breast, For she finds herself in Me, ENIGMAS. 101 But a bugle sounds again ! again ! And her eyes are bright with glee ; She follows straight the signal strain, And thus escapes from Me. She springs to meet a stately form, That stands by a Linden tree ; But linds herself in her Father's arms, As fainting she fails in Me. The recreant Knight had danced all night With a lady fair and free ; They are missed from the hall, And his steed from the stall ; And the wondering guests, as they leave the ball, Are instantly plunged in Me. Maidens, my tale this moral bears, lie ware of treaeherie ; Distrust the love that tempts the heart To act clandestinelie. 192 CHAKADE3. CHAEADE I. MY first leads the van of a numerous host, And in argument always has place ; My next of heraldic distinction can boast, And oft an escutcheon may grace. Give a head to my third, and lo ! Israel's pride, Her glory, her hope, and her aim ; My whole may to honour and truth be allied, Or prove but a vain, empty name. CHAEADE II. MY first is of various signification, And in one is of general use in the nation ; In a sense more restricted, it hints at the woes Impending on all academical beaux, And big wigs forensic heave many a sigh When they find the unwelcome intruder draws nigh; My next to describe I shall utterly fail, Unless my grave second will lend me his tail. And oh ! what a change makes the new situation, The tail of my first is the head of a nation ; CHARADES. 103 A nation so populous as to defy E'en Cocker to number them accurately. They're a people quite careless of warlike renown, And shut themselves up in a fortified town ; Yet in seasons of scarcity, 1 have heard tell, They will eat through the walls of their own citadel. And when they're besieged by an enemy's host, They never do battle, but die at their post, While their savage invaders so bent upon strife, That the cry of attack is "^vare'en to the knife !" My puissant total inarch straight on their way, And follow their leader in battle array. Their sappers and miners quite cover the ground, And spread desolation and rapine around. Ah, Albion ! Albion ! laud of the free ! May that terrible host never cross thine own sea. C'HAKADE 10. WIIKXK'KU an argument takes place, My first's a pleader in the case ; Nor is the privilege more than due, Since his opponent does so too. My second is of melting mood, And sometimes does a mint of good ; o 194 CHARADES. But when in contact with the pot, His temper oft becomes too hot. Admit my whole within your house, 'Twill do more mischief than a mouse ; 'Twill follow you from room to room, And even in your wardrobe come. Oh ! never may such dire disgrace Produce its namesake in your face ; For it is conscious guilt alone Can make that countenance your own. CHAEADE IV. MY first, without doubt, is of Roman extraction, And its welfare depends upon freedom of action ; With moving on gently, long years it may last, But oft, like young England, it goes on too fast ; Then the spendthrift is stopped in its frantic career, Supplies are withheld, and destruction is near. My next has a very intelligent face, Though the footmarks of time in its lines you may trace ; Of many good qualities I am possest, My notable fingers are seldom at rest. I'm a truthful narrator, and though I might fail, In o-ases of moment, perchance, in my tale, CHARADES. lf)5 If you gaze in my round, honest face, you will see That the fault is another's, and seldom in me. Though blandly seductive, in seasons of need My total has oft proved a good friend indeed ; Yet trust not too much ; with insidious art It will steal by degrees on your mind and your heart ; It will fetter your limbs with its adamant chain, And then, helpless victim, you'll struggle in vain ! CHAEADE V. As my first on four feet always patters about, You may class it with quadrupeds, there is no doubt; But as there is scarcely a homestead without it, Perhaps 'twill sullice to say little about it. My second is useful in many a line, But whatever its oilice, it cannot define. My third may be ranked as a creature of prey, With its teeth like a shark's set in double array ; Hut though it is said to put hundreds to flight, It may give you a scratch, but was ne'er known to bite. My whole is a meeting house placed under groxind, Where the guests sit like Quakers, in silence pro- found. o 2 196 CKAEADES. CHAEADE VI. To be rny first is every statesman's aim ; To be my first's the end of many a game ; ' To be my first's the jockey's pride and boast ; To be my first and next, might please a host. My whole is said, without fair truth's infraction, To be immovable, yet still in action. CHAEADE VII. the whole circle of ingenious art, My comprehensive first still bears a part ; Xay, stop not there, for much of nature's store My useful lap exhibits o'er and o'er. Xow change my office, but retain my name, I lend my aid to many a childish game ; ^say, full-grown triflers draw me to their side, And eye the rising heap with joy and pride. My polished second bears upon its face A living picture, full of truth and grace ; The ever-changing figures come and go, Like shadowy phantoms in the niagic show. CHARADES. 107 Tho merits of my whole must now be told, \\ Inch, useful in its ornamental fold, At once adorns, and covers from the cold. CIIAKADE VIII. My first sometimes adonis the form of bounty, Or hanging pendant at the call of duty, It aids the pulpit with a decent grace, Or at the bar presents its solemn face. Gravely professional, in days of yore, It walked with famed M.D.'s to sick man's door And while he felt the pulse and shook his head, In sympathy it trembled o'er the bed; Hut times are changed, and now my aid I lend, N'ot the M.D., but surgeon to befriend. In other guise it captivates your ears, Or lifts the raptured spirit to the spheres ; It often designates a brotherhood, For deeds of evil, or for purpose good. My next is but an affix to some name, Whose table -talk is handed down by fame. My whole in some dark nook its form will fold, And mostly comes abroad to meet the cold. 198 CHABADES. CHAEADE IX. MY first, prefixed to certain words, Oft indicates co-operation. My next's a connoisseur in birds, And of the lesser brute creation. Without my third, your daintiest meat Would really be unfit for table ; The hungry beggar in the street Would trample it beneath his feet ; To eat it, dogs would be unable. My fourth, in comprehensive view We may a brotherhood proclaim, Though in it lurks a factious crew, Whose discords oft belie the name. My whole's an intellectual chain, More ductile than the finest gold ; Each precious link enchants the brain With visions new, or memories old. CHAEADE X. MY first, of various form and hue, Cone, circle, square, black, white, red, blue, With youth or age is seen. CHABADE8. 100 By night, by day, abroad, at home, 1 sit in silence while you room, And wait on clown or queen. My next holds a distinguished place Amid the worthies of his race, And boasts a glorious name ; He leads his troops to every clime, Whose deeds beyond the bounds of time JIave won a bloodless fame. Behold my stately third arise, Crested and crowned to meet the skies, The fairest of the fair ; But soon that lofty head may bow, And time or vengeance lay it low, "With brighter things that were ! ^Header, you have my whole, no doubt, And with slight pains will find me out. CHAKADE XII. AT a festival held in this feast-loving nation, My first always holds a most prominent station. My next, though attended by sorrow and pain, Js a point which most people desire to attain. My whole, if you roam in Australia's bowers. Will rival, you'll find, the most lovely of flowers. 200 CHARADES. CHARADE XII. I SHALL wish you my first, if I find you too near ; I shall wish you my next, if I think you too fat. My third, should you live to the close of next year, You will probably meet, so take care of your hat. My whole is a garment, if rightly I guess, Much worn in the reign of our merry Queen Bess. CHARADE XIII. NOT long with industry abides my first. My next's an article in general use. My dainty third, in fiery regions nursed, Gives added zest to Hyson's grateful juice. My squalid total roams the country round, For that which industry at home had found. CHARADE XIV. ~\VHE> T EVE:R you assume my first, You give it an exalted station. My next in fertile India nursed, Yields food and wealth to many a nation. Ladies, my whole's ascribed to you ; But if you give the men their due, CHARADES. 201 You'll all acknowledge 'tis but fuir To dub them with an equal share. CHARADE XV. To bo my first, oh ! 'tis a fearful Hut there are some would gladly be my second. My third, although it pain and trouble bring. Vet is a badge of pride and honour reckoned. My whole is often subject to commotion, And vet is fast imbedded in the ocean. C1IABADE XVI. Or various use and form and price. My first the housewife knows full well ; AVhene'er my second gives advice, Take it, or you will ne'er excel. If in my whole you find good store, Then, lady, think upon the poor. ('IIAKADK XVII MY cruel tirsl, with venomed dart Assailed a lovely woman's heart. 202 CHABADES. And all ! before the close of day That breathing form was lifeless clay ; My second seeks to gain attention, And is of very old invention ; My third is a romantic spot, Well fitted for a Dryad's grot, "With dripping leaves and mossy seat, And weeping flowers at your feet. Curtail my third, and then behold, My total will a plant unfold. CHAEADE XVIII. MY first, when he maintains his station, Becomes the head of the creation; My next oft beautifies the skies, Yet has no beauty in your eyes. Oh may my total's fiery dart rankle in your gentle heart ! CHAEADE XIX. MY first, though very mean and small, Has claims to your respect withal. An Eastern monarch, wise and great, Beheld it in its low estate, CIIARADKS. 203 And raised it to the honoured place Of Mentor to his numerous raee. You'll find my second in a mine, Or with his mates upon the line, Or standing lone in stately pride, Without one helper by his side. My third, to do is far from sage, Especially in feeble age ; Should e'er such weakness sei/e vour mind, Mav YOU mv whole in reason find! CHARADE XX. MY first with bold, impetuous course, Comes rushing with resistless force, And on, and on. still comes my second. My whole I do not wish to see In waiting upon vou or me, Although a wonder he be reckoned. CHARADK XXI. MY first leads the van of a numerous host, And in argument always lakes place ; MY next of heraldic distinction can boast, And oft an escutcheon may grace ; 201 CHARADES. Give a Lead to my third, and lo ! Israel's pride, Her glory, her hope, and her aim ! . My whole may to honour and truth be allied, Or prove but a vain, empty name. CHAEADE XXII. SMALL, but potential is my first, A very self-sufficient elf ; But when it is by wisdom nurst, It leads to honour, fame, or pelf. My second, dead to present times, Always refers to actions past. If you're my whole, you'll say these rhymes Have o'er me but a thin veil cast. CHAEADE XXIII. MY first was the chief actor in a royal tragedy ; My next and third a pendant that no one likes to see ; My fourth, I trust, a happy pair in legal union bound, And oft in their vocation there, may on the line be found. CHARADES. 205 My whole, though surely not a fish, yet scaly I define, And often figures in a dish at table when you dine. CHARADE XXIV. MY first's a superstitious rite, Nursed in the lap of Koine ; My second, if you look aright, Surrounds the rural home ; Mv total is a barbarous deed, O'er which all Keutle hearts must bleed. CHARADE XXV. CJ.OTHI:I> in my first my whole behold, A wretched outcast old and poor, All. once how jaunty, gay and bold, He swaggered at the tavern door ; Would he attend to wisdom's voice, And from my next a lesson take, How would he make those hearts rejoice, Which now with shame aud sorrow ache. 206 EEBUSES. CHAEADE XXVI. Mr first has a strong inclination to flirt, Though the day of its triumphs is over ; A shrewd Irish beggar, as some folks assert, Was my second, and " living in clover ;" Should you sigh for repose, my third you should do, Where nothing exists to excite you ; But if to my whole you are wishing to go, Persuade some old don to invite you. REBUS I. AWAKED by my whole in the dead of the night, No doubt you would be in a terrible fright ; But take off my head, and then, if you please, Tou may revel in visions of butter and cheese. Behead me once more, and then, if you're wary, I may serve you for years, and be yet stationary. EEBTJS II. COMPLETE, my glory is in revolution ; Behead me, I may give you a contusion ; Behead again, and if your cook has skill, She'll make a turncoat of me 'gainst my will. HEBCSES. 207 REBUS III. I AM the only thing a brave man fears; Strike off my head, a Scottish home appears ; Again behead me, I shall then declare What monsieur often calls his favourite fair. EEBUS IV. SHOULD you meet with my whole when you're taking the air, Behead me and mount me as soon as you dare ; Behead me once more, if you've surgical skill, For while I'm alive I must always be ill. REBUS V. I AM the navigator's trusty guide, And oft the tourist woos me to his side ; Strike off my head, and if I stand at bay, Take to your heels, 'twill be the safest way ; Ikhead once more, and in my name you'll find That which debases or exalts the miiid. 208 KEBUSES. EEBUS VI. DEAR ladies, I own 'tis niy trade to deceive, But cut off my head and I beg you'll believe I shall then prove a very warm friend ; Behead me once more, Should you live to fourscore, To my hint you will gladly attend. THE END. EILLISU, PKIXTFU AXD STEEEOTTPKR, 103, HATTO.V OABDKS, LONDON, A.VD GUILLiFOIU.', Sl'BRtY. This book is DUE on the last date stamped below 10m-ll,'50(2555)470 THE LIBRAKY OF CALIFORNUE _ ! H II II III 11 HI L 006 341 305 8 PR 3991 A 001 352673 6 I it