m A = = CI ■ o 1 A3 _. o s — cz 1 — ^ — i 1 - :r 1 ■ — JJ 1 1 —S. Z 1 == JD 1 ^^^^ m 1 3 = === -Z" 1 7 = ■ r - 1 9 m 1 — CD 1 "^^ ZD 1 9 § === > 1 = 33 1 4 = 3> 1 7 S —— i — I ■ n 1 ^ s ..//Ss. THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES SKETCHES or BANDIT LIFE; OTHER POEMS. W. v. p. Upon what eager wings M \ spirit turns to thee, and, birdlike, flings It's best, it's breath, it's spring, and song, o'er thee, JV1 y lute's enchanted world. L. E. L. YORK: PRINTED FOR THE AUTHOR; BY H. BEI.LERBY, GAZETTE-OFFICE. 1830. [ENTERED AT STATIONERS'-HAIA.] ro WILLIAM DANBY, (tl s\\ IVKiN PARK, IN THE COUNTY OF YORK, ESQ. AS A SLIGHT TESTIMONIAL OF GRATITUDE, ESTEEM, AND RESPECT, THIS LITTLE VOLUME IS HUMBLY INSCRIBED, BY HIS OBLIGED, UND VERY OBEDIENT SERVANT, THE AUTHOR. . : ■■ PREFACE. The following pages are presented to the notice of the indulgent reader, with a mingled feeling of hope and fear. They are the produc- tion of leisure hours, snatched from the more important pursuit of professional acquirement. With the exception of the ' Sketches of Bandit Life,' which are among the later efforts, they are arranged, as nearly as possible, in the order of their composition, and it is hoped that they exhibit a gradual and progressive, however slight, improvement in style and sentiment. I shall not here attempt to obtrude my own feelings : they are such as spring from the dictates VI <>l youth and inexperience, and such as must constantly attend every one, who, for the first time, ventures to present his productions at the bar of criticism. The author of any work, how- ever humble it may be, and however low it's pretensions, must prove a very inadequate judge of it's merits, but he must ever (eel tremblingly alive to the encomiums or censures which are passed upon his labours. If the former part of the work contain less inaccuracies than the latter portion, it must be ascribed to the friendly aid of a gentleman, whose judgment and good taste, as well as literary acquirements, are only equalled by his urbanity and condescension. I have to regret that cir- cumstances prevented me from availing myself throughout of his kind and valuable assistance. In leaving this little work in the hands ol tli«- public, it's author embraces the opportunity of returning his mosl grateful acknowledgements Vll for the encouragement he has received from a numerous circle of considerate friends ; who are already in possession of the motives which led him to publish, and who, he trusts, will not expect too much from these his earliest essays in poetical composition. CONTENTS. Page. PREFACE, ETC V INTRODUCTION xi SKETCHES OF BANDIT LIFE. 1. THE BRIGAND CHIEF 2. THE CHIEFTAIN AND HIS WIFE (» 3. REGRETS 10 1. happiness 1:5 }. MORNING 15 6. THE OMEN 19 7. PRAYER 2'1 8. THE GROTTO 2<> 9. THE DEATH '■> 1 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. GREEK SONG 45 SONNET 48 THE LADY'S PETITION i'J TO A YOUNG LADY J I ATTEMPT TO PARAPHRASE A PORTION OF A SERMON.... VI PAUL BEFORE AGRIPPA V7 LINES ON A PIECE OF WILLOW FROM THE TOMB OF NAPOLEON 63 SALATHIEL 66 FAREWELL 69 Pagt . Mil'. TOMB 01 nil UIGHT1 "I ! in: MARTYR 77 JOB, CHAP. 17, V. 11, AND CHAP. -I. \. 20 91 THE PRINCE OF DARKNESS 93 \ DREAM 101 INVASION 108 LOVE 115 WOMAN 117 MUSIC 119 DEATH 123 A VISION 136 THE TWIN SISTERS 117 ON A YOUNG MOTHER WATCHING HER SLEEPING INFANT 151 THE DELUGE 156 HAT TLE 162 STANZAS I6(j 'THE CAMPBELLS ARE COMING' 168 nu: POET ' 171 ! INTRODUCTION rhere arc who, Imoy'd on wings of verse sublime Hover, majestic, o'er the gulf of time ; Wrapt in the hoary mists of parted years How spectre-like each awful form appears. In dim unearthly grandeur, — shades of woe, When idly view'd, but bright'ning as they grow Upon remembrance, till, with sacred blaze, They stand confess'd before our conscious gaze Visions of hallow'd light ! Tho' round them spread Are gloom and darkness, even of the dead, Yet lightning dashes from each lofty page Unfold their wond'rous pow'r from age to age, Stamp on each mighty work the seal divine, And bid us worship at their hallow'd shrine. Such the rapt poet's lot, but in mine aim, My humble wish, there is no hope for fame, Oh ! would but heav'n my sluggish thoughts inspire, And grant a portion of celestial fire, XI 1 How could 1 then, amid the woes of life, Look with contempt on every petty strife, Bid proud defiance to each rising care, And charm, with verse, away the fiend, Despair: Then would 1 strike the lyre, whate'er my skill, \nd while it's silver dulcet tones should thrill Along- the quiv'ring chord, and trembling string, Essay some humble strains, like these, to sing. SKETCHES OF BANDIT LIFE. SKETCHES OF BANDIT LIFE. THE BRIGAND CHIEF. Pass we the tale, for it were long- To tell how, urg'd by flagrant wrong, The outlaw left his feudal hearth To roam a Brigand thro' the earth, In evil hour, and how he came To wear a robber's dreaded name. A southern clime, and fertile shore, His acts of heartless rapine bore, Where oft' the peasant's tale made known His desperate deeds, with trembling tone, b2 THE BRIGAND CHIEF. And at his name ungovcrn'd fear Came o'er each hardy mountaineer, Till, when his form they turn'd to scan, They deem'd him something more than man, And rumours, far and widely spread, Unearthly horrors round him shed ; They hinted something of a spell Which he could sway too wildly well, A talisman, on him conferral, Within whose deep and potent word The pow'r to act his will was held, For evil or for good, A charm which fealty compelTd From those who dwell by field and flood, Spirits of darkness and of blood ! To work his bidding, and to do Whale'er his mandate urg'd them to. Preposterous thought ! The only spell Which in his bosom dar'd to dwell Was form'd of those deep wrongs which press'd Darkly, how darkly ! on his breast, In gloomy clouds, and madden'd there With all the anguish of despair. Yet, true it was, in that dark hour, Dwelt in his soul the deadliest pow'r Of demons, urging on to guilt, THE BRIGAND CHIEF. And seas of gore, profusely spilt ; For, oh ! there is no deeper hell Than oft' is wont in man to dwell When vengeance, fiery vengeance, reigns Supreme, with reason in her chains, With every better feeling crush'd, And mercy, heavenly mercy, hush'd. II. THE CHIEFTAIN AND HIS \\ 1 1 'I, Oft' in the long and lonely night, When spent by toil, or march, or fight, The wearied outlaw soundly slept, His bride o'er him kept watch, and wept ; Yea many a time the darken'd air Beheld her kneeling, weeping, there, Where never human eye might see The burst of human misery. For she was woman all, endued With more than woman's fortitude, 'Tis true, but with a woman's fears, Her fond devotedness, her tears, Which ever find a ready flow, Less for her own than others' woe : And often it was her's to gaze, By the red watchfire's fitful blaze, On the dark features of her chief, Which slumber's stern and wild reli< I THE CHIEFTAIN AND HIS WIFE. Had stamp'd, in more than earthly skill, With the deep workings of his will. He was a man of sturdy frame, With heart of flint, and eye of flame ; Yet not unknown a nat'ral grace, Which lighten'd sometimes on his face. And in his voice there dwelt a tone Such as might stamp him mercy's own, So that the stranger tum'd again To hear it's rich and plaintive strain. He lov'd her passing well ; — tho' brief, As best befits a robber chief, To others, and with feelings stern, And vengeance swiftly rous'd to burn ; Whate'er to men his outward mien, To her was nought but kindness seen : He felt what she had left to share His dangerous life, and humble fare ; How from the scenes where fashion calls It's votaries to princely halls, Where beauty, deck'd in gems of price, Adorns each earthly paradise, Where music's soft and pensive tone Is round the list'ner's spirit thrown, Where woman's form and woman's voice Combine to bid the heart rejoice, THE CHIEFTAIN AND HIS WIFE. And all is spread in ample state Which eye or car can captivate, From such as these, and from her home, To cheer his fortunes, she had come. T know that all the specious wiles By which the heart is led astray, With syren-pleasure's gaudy smiles, Must pall the fancy, and decay, B ut not as yet her youthful eye Beheld their artful sophistry, Nor could we deem that chill neglect Her bark of gladness yet had wreck'd, For she was fair, so passing fail- As well might reign unrivall'd there, And, doubtless, all the courtly train, Who bend at beauty's dazzling shrine, To wear her light and paphian chain Had strove in long and eager line, — This, nor deem lightly of its price, She made for him a sacrifice. There, too, in far more solemn hour Were other ties of deeper pow'r ; They who her opening fancy taught Lessons with chastening purport fraught, Whom from her first, her natal daj She learn' d to honour, and obey ; THE CHIEFTAIN AND HIS WIPE. 9 With many a person else, and tiling, Which round the young affections cling ; Scenes, too, endear'd by friendship's birth, By memory, or love, or worth ; The temple where, with awe sublime, Her spirit pray'd, full many a time ; From such as these, and from her home, To cheer his fortunes, she had come. 10 III. REGRETS. Oh ! there were feelings closely twin'd Around her heart, and deeply shrin'd Within the temple of her breast, Which would not wholly sink to rest : When evening's lonely shadows cast A sense of wildness on the blast, Her quivering lips, and voice, gave note That sadden'd fancies were afloat, And 'ere the darkness, from on high, Drew it's black curtain o'er the sky, The sun, whose purple splendours roll'd In beauty o'er her lovely head, Tinging her raven locks with gold, As sinking to his ocean-bed, Look'd on a cheek, as marble white, And bosom, fluttering with affright : REGRETS. U By night — when stillness reign'd, and gow A shadow round, as of the grave, When ev'ry conscious star look'd down, And seem'd upon her love to frown — Then would she hang upon her chief In heavy and impassion'd grief; While in the darkness, dimly set, Her proud ancestral coronet Appeared before her startl'd eyes, And all who wore that lofty prize Seem'd, too, as they were there, and spurn'd The wretch whose fire, so meanly burn'd As that she left her father's hall, It's pomp, it's revelry, and pride, To hold her spirit's carnival With robbers, on the mountain side : There, too, by morbid fancy led, There seem'd to stand her mother's shade, A pale and broken spirit, torn By sorrow from it's fleshly urn, Which in the moon-beam faintly smil'd To view again her erring child : Nor aught her husband said to cheer His wife, in this her wayward mood, Could wile away the load of care She felt in midnight solitude, 12 REGRETS. Until exhausted nature lost The power to think ; — the tempest-tost Then found in calm unwak'd repose A healing halm to soothe her woes, And morn, and love, as heretofore, Gave back her happiness once more. 13 l\ r HAPPINESS. Form'd for each other, still more 'true, And more devoted either grew, So that, when, on his distant way To seek, or to secure his prey, The outlaw left his consort's bow'r, She wiled away the lonely hour By ev'ry trivial female art To wind yet closer round his heart, And if she fram'd a small device, Some little simple artifice, By which to cast a moment's glow Of pleasure on his sunburnt brow, Her breast was lighten'd by the thought, Which in it's depths with gladness wrougb And shook her frame with pleasure's thri' That he would love her better still. I I HAPPINESS. The outlaw, when, for gain to search, He hasted on his lawless march, 'Ere on his breast the belt he slung Or o'er his brawny shoulder flung The carbine, or, with martial pride, Girded his weapon to his side, Would bid her promise he should sliai. The breathings of her pious pray'r, And deem himself secure from harm Defended by that holy charm : Or when, returning from the toil, Himself and comrades flush'd with spoil, How brightly on the landscape broke His distant col, whose wreath-like smok( Curling upon the mountain air, Betoken'd peace and safely there ; Then, springing on with lighter pace, He clasp'd his wife with fond embrace, Prais'd all that she had done, and gave Such thanks as pay the truly brave To her he lov'd, whose conscious eye Beam'd brightly, gladly, softly, nigh, And thrilling to his ardent touch She felt that all was scarce too much Which she had yielded to possess A robber's heart, and happiness 15 MORNING. By night, when slumber kept away, Revolving plans the chieftain lay, — And, stirring with the earliest light, Arous'd his men to seek the fight, Related how his scheme was plann'd, And gave instructions to the band ; — Away they went, along the glen, A brave and hardy troop of men, Of well-tried prowess in the field, Each arm'd with carbine, sword, and shield j Away they went, with ready zeal, Glanc'd in the sun their polish'd steel, And, far along their winding track, The shout and song came rudely back, Till faint and fainter grew it's tone, It died away — he was alone. ili MORNING. Still wrapt in sleep his consort lay, And dreams of childhood, far away, Like to a folded flow'rel lying, She heeded not how time was flying ; Perchance her mem'ry gave again The years when, 'mid her youthful train Of friends, she took, in dance and son-- Pre-eminence amid' the throng ; Or, it might be, her spirit felt How, in those favour'd years, she knelt Beneath her tender parents' eye, And humbly sought from Heav'n on hi Thither- to 'scape the sultry heat, And in that lone secure retreat Hold social converse thro' the day — The outlaw led his beauteous bride, As oft' before, to wile away The course of time till even-tide; There, list'ning to the torrent's rush, — It's wild and ever varying gush, — And watching, as the glitt'ring dew In diamond lustre by them flew, And feeling in this world alone, Each for the other form'd, with none To break, or warp, the sacred tie, Which bound their mutual sympathy, They were so happy that the crowd, Who laugh in giddy mirth aloud, And hide beneath a smiling brow, With glitt'ring splendour deck'd, a heart Writhing in all the depths of woe, Might almost wish to change their part In life's sad drama for the cot They dwelt in, and their humb'e lot. — They rested there the livelong day, Which fleeted like a dream away, iO THE GROTTO Together seated, gazing forth Upon the green luxuriant earth, Enjoying ev'ry sound thai came, The whisper'd music of the wood, The roaring of the mountain stream, The thousand murmurs solitude Pours on the gales of southern clime ; — Then, oh ! how should they think of time ' How long they sat they scarcely knew, When hearts are join'd, so firm and true, In either deep affection springing, They heed not how the moments, winging Across the world their mystic way, Steal silently upon the tomb, Curtail life's brief uncertain day. And take Prom youth it's early bloomj Leaving instead a brow of woe, With wrinkles which around it grow, liven as round the lofty oak, When scath'd by lightning's sudden stroke, The ivy's verdant tendrils fling Their garlands in perpetual spring . Each tell, unconsciously, that fate Hath made the beings desolate From whence their own existence comes, \ drear existence, as of tombs ' THE GROTT©. 31 And, oh! if early loveliness, Cut down and withered by distress, Fall in its unpolluted years, Consum'd by grief and blighting tears, Then should they bring no glaring flowers, Procur'd from gay and sunny bowers, To deck, as oft, the youthful bier, And die in heartless mockery there; At such a time the crimson rose A bright unnatural gladness throws, The lily — pale and virgin bloom — Can be no emblem of the tomb ; Lilies, and pearls, and jessamine, Together in one wreath should twine To ornament earth's fairest pride — A blushing, young, and timid bride, — Apt emblems of the thoughts which rest Within her mild and dove-like breast. Which with her spotless robes may vie To emulate her purity: But, when the knell of death is ringing, And o'er the scene a sadness flinging, Then bring the ivy — be it strown Upon the bier, and be it thrown AVithin the tomb, for it will rear lt'> head when all is ruin near, 32 THE GROTTO. And if, at length, vre see it wither. Our hope is then extinct for ever. Long- had they rested, till the charm Of twilight's soft and pensive balm. Shedding- a soothing languor, stole Athwart the sky, from pole to pole, And eve approaching, lent it's povv'r To scatter wildness on the hour : The day was past — another day ] [ad wing'd it's airy flight away, Tho' still remain'd in crimson blaze The parting sun's last splendid rays, Which their bright banner proudly threw O'er the calm ocean's depths of blue : The gentle breeze, which rush'd along, Bore on it's wing the mermaid's song, She, springing up from emerald caves, PourM her wild love-notes to the waves, Which ceas'd, awhile, their dash to hear Her voice, as of some holier sphere, Then rippling by with whisper'd moan Mingled with her's their dreamy tone, And yielded harmony to earth, Such as miffhl seem of heavenly birth, THE GROTTO. 33 Music which hath been seldom met, But heard, we never can forget, For, sweeping o'er the wailing surge, It seems a fading spirit's dirge, Some being sinking to decay, Whose voice in murmurs dies away. Such was the scene which round them grew, A fair and beauteous sight to view ; And often would they turn to mark The progress of the distant bark, Whose white sail thro' the gathering haze Seem'd almost to elude their sraze, Now scudding on with stately pride, Now hovering, bird-like, o'er the tide, Then lost in distance, and the plain Of ocean lay unbroke again : But warn'd once more to seek their home 'Ere — flush'd with light, with plunder fraught, In token of their vict'ry brought — His band returning back should come, The outlaw and his bride arose To seek their cottage of repose. D 34 IX. THE DEATH. The outlaw and his bride arose, But found their path beset with foes. Sudden the vision ! To the right A file of soldiers barr'd their flight, No hope remain'd, no other path Was there, and foemen, in their wrath, Prepared to strike, in order ranged ; The robber look'd on them, unchang'd In aught, save feature; o'er his frame No tremblings, as of terror, came, He stood confronted to their sight With dauntless eye, but brow like night, Darker and darker at the thought Not his alone the life they sought, THE DEATH. 35 And at this sense of deeper ill His face grew stern, as if to kill With very look, and, holding back His bride, who press'd upon the track, Gaz'd on their ranks, which, kneeling, took Their aim, nor then his bosom shook, But with quick pressure of the hand He gave his wife to understand That all was over, save to die, — A brief, tho' bitter, agony ! Still paus'd the men as if to give A short permission yet to live, Wherein some pray'r, tho' brief the time. Might expiate a life of crime, And hope of pard'ning grace afford ; As waiting for the signal-word Each soldier knelt with levell'd gun, In awful silence. There was one, Who, standing higher on the bank, Seem'd as he held superior rank, From whom the kneeling troop aw ail His voice to seal the robber's fate. d 2 3G THE DEATH. That haughty chief a moment scann'd The scene, then, turning to liis band, Whose, very breath was stay'd to hear His voice upon the silence near, Iiifted his arm on high — then higher — It fell — he gave the signal — " Fire !" The shot ! The smoke ! The answering yell ! The death-shriek on the ear which fell ! Responsive echo's mimic cry — Which mock'd that bitter agony, And gave again the volley's roar — Then all was silent as before ! Slowly the smoke, in wreath-like pall, Spread o'er the scene around, Tt wrapt the neighb'ring torrent's fall, And hung in darkness on the ground ; Slowly it spread, as slowly rose Upon the mountain air, And much of horror to disclose Melted in ether fair. For whatsoe'er of human life Had met that unrelenting strife, And whatsoe'er of human breath, Lay in the cold embrace of death. THT DEATH. 37 Sadly and heavily a splash Mingl'cl amid' the water's dash, Broke on it's current, and with blood Dyed deeply the ensanguin'd flood. With one strong effort his young bride Had broken from her husband's side, And o'er his much lov'd form had cast, To shield her lord, her faithful breast : The ball which in his bosom drank Profusely of life's purple tide, First thro' her bleeding brain had sank, So late his dearly cherish'd bride, And, leaving death behind, had sped To lav him level with the dead ; And he had fall'n ! They could not tell If life was ended 'ere he fell, Or if the dark and sullen wave Destroy'd him 'ere it form'd his grave ; But he was gone ! Beneath the tide Mis agonies and sorrows hide, Whate'er he hath been, and whate'er He is, shall never more appear, — Roll wildly on, impetuous river, His form is in thy depths for ever; Tomb of the undistinguish'd brave Thou art his coffin, shroud, and grave. 38 THE DEATH. NTol such as this her lol — she sunk At once upon the rocky bunk, Her eyelids clos'd in endless sleep, With scarce a pang, she pass'd away, Her tresses, floating o'er the steep, Were bath'd within the dewy spray, Which fell around as if the deep Their fate untimely seem'd to weep ; On her white aim reclin'd her head, And not one feature of the dead, Within her face, was discompos'd, And, saving that her eyes were clos'd, And that the smile upon her face Was holier in that lifeless place, And struck upon the gazer's eye With feelings, such as wont to spring When sculptured statues almost vie With life, in vivid imaging, Except for these we might have deem'd That lite remain'd, as well it seem'd, But on her brow one bloody streak, And one wild flush upon her cheek, Told but too well her soul was fled, And she was number'd with the dead : Beneath her long hair's jetty veil, Which strove that horror to conceal, THE DEATH. 39 Her skull was shatter'd, whence the blood WelPd swiftly, in a crimson flood, From ev'ry torn and panting vein Within her crush' d and mangl'd brain. Alas ! alas ! and is it o'er, And must their forms be seen no more ? Their spirits warm with hope, and rife With all the energies of life, The feelings of each mutual breast, Loving and lov'd — are these at rest ? 'Tis even so ! Each form is chill, Each pulse, which throbb'd so wildly, still ; The tongue which rais'd it's sacred hymn, Amid' the mountain's ambient air, Is hush'd to peace, the eye is dim Which glanc'd in pleasure and in pray'r : All, all, is past, the spirit flown To glory in a nobler throne ; And it is well ! — Why should they know The blighted hope, the withering gloom, We feel when all we lov'd below Rest in the silent tomb ? For who can tell how soon disease, Or life's unnumber'd casualties, ID THE DEATH. Might have destroy'd the chief, and lefl His bride, of ev'ry stay bereft? But thus together taking flight, And winging to etherial light, And soaring, hand in hand, afar To reach the final judgment-bar, They were too happy — neither wept Over the one more blest which slept, There were no tears as offerings shed By the lone living o'er the dead, Kind heav'n, in mercy, aim'd the blow, And laid both hearts together low. Meantime the troop had gain'd the bank, Where, mid the vapours, dim and dank. They saw as much of beauty lie Tn death's embrace as e'er could die : Ev'n as they look'd upon her face, Radiant with ev'ry female grace, And as her lovely form they saw, Came o'er each heart a sense of awe, Till, at their accents of amaze, Their proud commander stoop'd to gaze, He turn'd, he started, and, surpris'd, Each pallid feature scrutiniz'd ; THE DEATH. 11 (Joel, (or thy mercy ! Who may write The awful stroke, the withering blight, The feeling of dismay which fell On his crush'd soul, and made it hell ? For in that dreadful hour of slaughter The parent had destroy' d his daughter. Unbroken silent melancholy reigns On Count Abruzzo's fair and wide domains, Ruin sits brooding on his crumbling balls, The festoon'd ivy waves upon the walls ; And these are desolate, with none to tell How, by the sire's command the daughter fell, And how the parent wither'd day by day, Till, cold in death, he mixed with kindred clay, And sank to rest in that unbroken sleep Where joy forgets to smile, and grief to weep. Within the chapel of his splendid pile, 'Mid the dim glories of the vaulted aisle, Beneath the richly fretted gothic shrine, The pompous tomb of all his haugbty line, With proud heraldic bearings hung on high, The murder'd daughter and her parent lie : 42 THE DEATH. Brief is their epitaph, it mentions not Aught of her erring love, her dreadful lot, Or of his rash command, his hasty ire, The keen remorse, that with unceasing fire Uurn'd in his bosom, like the boiling wave Of molten fire, in realms beyond the grave. ■ MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 45 GREEK SONG. Two birds sat on an ancient tree, And thus I heard the elder say — " Oh ! joyful time, and happy me That I should live to see this day." As thus she spake, she plum'd her vnngs, Joy sparkl'd in her brilliant eye, And to her fellow-bird she sings In fitful cadence, wild and high. " The torch is lit which, o'er the land, Shines far and near, a beacon light, Which bids us draw the battle-brand, Which warns us to the deadly fight 4G GREEK SONG. " Wc come ! we come ! no more to fly, But arm'd to conquer, or to die, To hurl destruction, woe, and war, Upon the vengeful Moslemah. " We come ! we come ! our rifle's flash Shall lay the turban'd ruffian low, Each gleaming sabre's ringing clash Shall cause a caitiff's blood to flow. "■ Mark where the booming cannon's roar Re-echoes round from shore to shore. 'Ere on the air it's smoke hath curl'd A thousand banners are unfurl'd. "Hark! 'Tis the Moslem's battle cry Which on the troubl'd ether floats, And do we here inactive lie ? Rise Mainotes ! Klephtai ! Suliotes ! " Rise comrades, rise, and, hand to hand, Drive back the fierce invading band ; Compel the scoffing Turk to fly, Or 'mid your country's ashes lie. GREEK SONG. 47 "There's not a spot from sea to sea But tells of deeds of fearful praise, Deeds done for home and liberty Amid' the mortal combat's blaze. " And shall we fear to lose our breath ? And shall we fear to meet our death ? When honour calls we may not flee, But on to death or victory. " The torch is lit which, o'er the land, Shines far and wide, a beacon light, Which bids us draw the battle-brand, Which warns us to the deadly fight." 48 SONNET. Fair art thou, lovely woman, when the hlaze Of jewel'd splendour flashes all around, And, oh ! how graceful 'mid the winning maze, AVhen dancers' footsteps o'er the hall rebound ; And thou art lair, when, with delightful sound, Thy pliant fingers sweep the quiv'ring string, Responsive to the notes thy voice doth sing ; But fairest, lov'liest, when amid' the sphere Of home, and all home's duties, beaming high, Heaves the full bosom, and the blissful tear Of thrilling rapture trembles in thine eye, That crystal dew-drop angels, from the sky, Might stoop to gain, and place it in their shrine — The clear blue vault of heav'n— a star with ray divine ! 4i) THE LADY'S PETITION. WRITTEN IN THE COMMENCEMENT OF A NEW ALBUM. Pity the pages of my album white, Whose virgin purity is all forlorn, Whose leaves, of spotless hue, are empty quite, Oh ! give relief, and leave me not to scorn. It is not much to grant a single line, And sign it with the impress of your name, The gift would be a treasure so divine Well might my album hope for deathless fame. 'Tis kindness adds to loveliness a grace, Beyond each art, and ev'ry playful wile, There is more lustre in the sweetest face When goodness lights it with a sunny smile. E 50 mi: lady's petition. For what arc charms unless compassion lend The feeling heart, the ready hand to give, 'Twill not impoverish you to condescend, Small were the bounty that would bid me live. Pity the pages of my album white, Whose virgin purity is all forlorn, Whose leaves, of spotless hue, are empty quite, Oh ! give relief, and leave me not to scorn. 51 TO A YOUNG LADY. Lady ! Two rolling months have driv'n Their course across the earth and heav'n, Spring, which was then upon the wane, Hath giv'n place to summer's train, Where the young budding leaflets grew Expanded nature bursts to view ; And many a vision, thou hast made, Since then has found a time to fade, And all thy dreams of gay delight Have chang'd to loneliness and night; Yet marvel not, for all of clay Are frail and perishing as they : And as for me — what I have been It matters not, nor what I've seen ; Suffice to say Time hath not rang'd By me and I remain unchang'd, e2 52 TO A YOUNG LADY. Suffice to say full well I know Dark desolation's gloomy brow. All this hath happen'd since to thee I promis'd — and I will not break That promise, even for thy sake — A lay of pensive poesy. But, ah ! how faint the gleams which shed Their feeble influence round my head, And how unlike the rays which dart From heav'n into the poet's heart, Which there, with beams of dazzling light, Illumine misery's darkest night ; Nor do I feel that burning glow The raptur'd sons of fancy know, Or revel in that sacred fire Which quivers round the hallow'd lyre, But, far in distance, humbly name The laurel which I dare not claim : Yet would I breathe a sigh, a pray'r, Might mount to heav'n, and linger there, Might humbly name thy name on high, Then for it's vast presumption die : — May'st thou, then, live in peace and joy, Which earth gives not, nor can destroy, A pure, delightful, holy peace, To gild thy path till life shall cease ; TO A YOUNG LADY. 53 And when, at length, the final doom Shall how thy body to the tomb, May thine exulting spirit soar To happier realms, untrod before, Unchanged in aught, save that thy worth Is unrestrain'd by things of earth, And, tinted with immortal dyes, Shines forth unclouded in the skies; So may eternity prolong The wishes of my humble song. .1 ATTEMPT TO PARAPHRASE A PORTION OF A SERMON. When the first beam of morning's earliest light Shoots o'er the gloomy pathway of the night, It's dawning radiance on the darken'd skies Gleams with a few, short, transitory dyes, And mingling, timidly, amid' the shade Seems half within the vast profound to fade, Till, gath'ring strength, with each successive ray, It bursts into the fulness of the day. So when the soul, in darkness lull'd before, Feels the new-born conviction thro' it pour, PARAPHRASE. 55 Doubtful it uses it's unwonted sight, And, half afraid, expands to meet the light, First fears, then hopes, till, bold and bolder grown, It's doubts are vanish'd, and it's terrors gone : Slowly it rises to behold the beams Which dart from heav'n in bright refulgent streams, Which flash from clime to clime — salvation's rays — Till earth can scarce support the gospel's glorious blaze. II. What tho', for sin, o'er-shadow'd is the sky, Tho' clouds arise, and tempests roll on high ? Still 'mid the darkest depths one sacred ray, One lovely, star-like, light illumes the way : Tis this which eases all our pain and care, Affords us hope, and saves us from despair ; Prompts the dull spirit on it's heav'n ward task, Where mercy dwells, for pard'ning grace to ask. Spark all divine ! Which lightens far and wide, The Christian's comforter, his hope, and guide, Where'er the world's infertile deserts spread Their arid plains beneath his fault'ring tread ; 'Tis this which cheers him in the arms of death, This bids him peacefully resign his breath : 5b' PARAPHRASE. When o'er the swelling Jordan's boist'rous tide, Safe in her haven, his glad bark may ride, Rises in glory, blessing and to bless, The new Jerus'lem's light, the sun of righteousness, 57 PAUL BEFORE AGRIPPA. King Agrippa, believest thou thv Prophets ? I know that thou believest. — Acts c. 26, v. 27. Agrippa rested on his throne of state, With guards around, his high behests to wait, Burn'd in his swarthy cheek an angry glow, But fear was stamp'd upon his pallid brow ; What then the danger, what the peril near To make the haughty monarch quake with fear ? Behold the cause ! Enclos'd by soldier-bands, And girt with chains, a pris'ner near him stands, Famine — disease — had rag'd without control, And bow'd his form, but left uncurb'd his soul ; 58 PAUL BEFORE AGRIPPA. Wan is his look, his cheek with sorrow glaz'd, Hut bright his eye, his arm to heav'n uprais'd, As if to call it's aid, his lips apart, Sever'd by words which pierce the guilty heart; Flows from his tongue a theme whose onward course Brings truth, resistless as the whirlwind's force, Inspir'd, and prompted by the holy Dove, And this the subject, stern, yet full of love. " What, tremblest thou ? Behold, beneath thine eye, " Thy dauntless captive well prepaid to die, "A single word — a nod — the slightest sign — " And at thy feet would lay this form of mine ; " Yet shrink I not ; in this my trying hour " There is a being nerves my soul with pow'r, "That one, the Christ, whom Jewish seers of old, " And hoary priests, in mystic types foretold, " Thro' lengthen'd years ; and king Agrippa ! say " Dost thou believe the prophet's record ? Yea ! " Full well I know thy faith, but slavish fear — " The dread of fellow-men assembl'd here — " Forbids the truth : — O mortal ! wherefore stay P " High is thy power, be thine to lead the way ; " Hoint to those holy books, where God hath giv'n " A faithful guide to lead us up to heav'n, ' Whose awful words, once lcarn'd, for ever leave " Their trace behind — yes King, ihou dost believe! I'Al'L BEFORE AGRIPFA. 59 And, oh ! bethink I bee, in thine hour of pride, " Thy jewell'd splendour, and dominion wide, 'Think of the hour of never-failing doom, " To thee, as all men, shall that period come, " What will avail it then, thy potent sway, " What all thy vain delights ? Agrippa, say I" II. He ceas'd ! Cold tremors shook the monarch's frame, Died from his angry cheek the lightning-flame, As thus he answer'd — "Almost dost thou make " My wavering spirit thine opinion take." III. " Oh ! fan the sacred flame, oh ! bid it burn "In ev'ry heart, as in a living urn. "I would to heav'n that thou, and these, and all " Who hear me now, within this lofty hall, " Were the partakers of my heav'nly gains, "And altogether such — except these chains: " Let me beseech thee, as thine humble slave, "Thy deathless soul to rescue from the grave, "There is a better world, and be it thine "As, in triumphant hope, I feel it mine." 00 PAUL BEFORE AGRIPPA. IV. At this appeal, a stillness, as of death, Made the spectators almost hush their breath, Each look was on him, ev'ry heart beat high To hear the monarch bid th' apostle die, For at a despot's throne to speak thus free What less than death a worthy meed could be ? But no ! — " Remove him to his secret cell, " And heed my mandate — guard the pris'ner well ; "Just now the cares of state, in num'rous throng, " With pow'rful voice, forbid my tarrying long, " Some other time, some more convenient hour, " Be mine to search his words, and learn their povv'r." V. Forth went the ruler, chieftains round him press'd, In gold array'd, and rob'd in purple vest ; On mov'd the gallant train, with stately pace, Amid the plaudits of the abject race, And like a dazzling meteor past away The regal train, the sceptre, and the sway. VI. What of the spoken word! The joys and woe Which mingle in our scenes of life below, PAUL BEFORE AGRIPPA. (H It's cares and thorns, had put such thoughts to flight Almost before the curtain of the night Clos'd round the kingly city, and repose The eyes of wearied mortals came to close. vir. 'Ere this a clash of arms, the hurried tread Of warlike troops by martial captains led Bore the apostle to the castle gate, Where the paid hirelings of the tyrant wait; He enters, and his dungeon's massive wall Ag-ain receives the more than human Paul, Therein to wile the hours till princes find Leisure to try the workings of his mind. vrn. Long watch'd the anxious captive — but in vain, Nought save the heavy clanking of the chain Broke on his longing ear. From day to day, Slow rose the morn, and sadly roll'd away, In dreary heaviness, the ling'ring light, Succeeded only by more tedious night: In vain th' apostle watch'd, if o'er the king The pow'r of grace a serious thought should fling, (i-2 PAUL BEFORE &GBIPPA. If in sonic moment when the giddy round Of pleasure ceas'd, and meditation found A time when conscience, breathing pious fear, Should pour its threats to an attentive ear, When the awaken'd soul should learn to think, He should attempt to shun destruction's brink ; In vain he watch'd ! Too haughty in his state, In all the pomp of towering pride elate, The monarch thought not of his future fate : Nor came the wish'd for period. Time fled past, The hour of liberation came at last, And the apostle, round his form unfurl'd, Beheld the beauty of a smiling world, Free from his fetters — but the king, whose eye Quail'd at a shackl'd captive's firm reply, Alas for him ! The gay and festive board, The sway of empire by it's princely lord, The pomp, the pageantry, the battle-roar, All these could find a time, but never more Came there a leisure season, or a space Wherein to seek the holy spirit's grace. G-J LINES ON A PIECE OF WILLOW FROM NAPOLEON'S TOMB. And hath this branch of willow bent All green, and fair, antl flourishing, O'er the usurper's monument? A simple tomb of sculptur'd stone, Beneath whose canopy, alone, He rests like a forgotten thing. He, for whose ends were thousands slain, To swell whose triumphs millions bled, Amid the rolling western main, The bravest of the nobly brave, Hath found an unlamented grave Wherein to mingle with the dead. 64 Ah! little thought he when he stood As victor o'er a conquer'd world — When carnage dyed his throne with blood, And delug'd earth with human gore, — That on this wild and distant shore His flag of tjlory should be furl'd. And little thought he in his pride, When thousands waited round his pillow, When hosts, to rear his empire, died — That in his last eternal sleep, The only thing to watch and weep O'er him should be this drooping willow. He rose in grandeur's fairest morn, He bask'd in all it's noontide height; Behold him now ! His honours shorn, The few who lov'd him left to grieve. As sinks the western sun at eve So set his meteor blaze in night. There let him rest, or if a breath Recall the magic of his name, Oh ! let the sacred seal of death 6'5 Cast o'er his faults Oblivion's veil ; And let no tongue recount the tale Which blasts the hero's life with shame. Ambition was the guiding star By which he rose, by which he fell, And if he follow'd it too far His errors he hath dearly paid, — And why should busy mem'ry aid The hist'ry of his crimes to swell. no SALATHIEL. Away, away, thou fearful sun Across the hriny deep, For I remain the only one To view thy beams, and weep : Away, thy brief diurnal round Hath past on fairy wing, Nor in it's ample course hath found, Save me, a living thing. Well may I weep ! I cannot die ! The curse is on my brow, 'Tis stamp'd in thunder in the sky, (>li ! God, I feel it now! SALATHIKL. 67 All silently and spectrally The evening shadows come, Tinging the vales, which sloping lie, With overwhelming gloom : The moon, but not with placid light, Glares broadly on the sea, And ev'ry star which decks the night Laughs scornfully at me ; The gathering tempest murmurs loud, Uprising from it's lair, And here and there a drifting cloud Is dark as my despair. I knelt me down, I strove to pray, Nor words, nor utt'rance came, By dreary midnight, and by day I still must be the same. Oh for the welcome hour of death ! What luxury it were To lay aside this loathsome breath, Nor longer sojourn here ! The wearied one his hour of rest Ne'er thirsted to enjoy, As pants, with hope deferr'd, my breast For lightnings to destroy. f2 / 68 SAJiATHIEL. But no ! Von red and awful moon, Each dimly waning star, And ev'n the sun, at highest noon, Proclaim it distant far : Then onward roll, thou ghastly orb, Along thy course of light, Thou wilt not by thy pow'r absorb My life, as well thou might : Away upon thy trackless path, Nor heed the boon I crave, Since heav'n denies, in endless wrath, That last repose, a grave : And ever on my conscious ear Rings heavily the doom. The knell of all my pleasure here, " Tarry thou till I come." (JJ) FAREWELL. WRITTEN UN MY BROTHER'S DEPARTURE FOR SOUTH AMEHH i Farewell to England ! Hark the sound The boatswain's whistle pours around, " All hands aloft" — the vessel feels The impulse, and away she wheels ; How gallantly she bears her head, With sails, to catch the breezes, spread ! Across the wave, across the foam, She bears me to a distant home. There is a stillness in the air Which lightens half my spirit's care, And yet, withal, there is a sadness Repressing ev'ry tone of gladness ; 70 FAREWELL. Wliate'er I do, where'er I turn, Still in my mem'ry feelings yearn, Feelings by which my soul opprest Can know no pleasure, know no rest ; A wand'rer on another strand, In exile from my native land, Far distant from my youthful home, I go — in fervid climes to roam ; How oft' mine eye will turn to gaze Upon the sun's unclouded blaze, And think my friends, remaining here, With me will view his bright career; I hail the thought ! A holy theme, Beyond the poet's fairest dream, — And never ray at morn shall throw It's burnish'd lustre o'er the sky, Nor eve a purple gleam bestow, But it shall bring their mem'ry nigh : Then the wild wind's uncertain moan Shall be to me a friendly tone : Then ev'ry cloud, of changeful hue, Which sails thro' heav'n's unclouded blue ; Then the rich fragrance floating near, Wafted from flow'rs of brilliant dyes, Which in that gaudy hemisphere In all their gay luxuriance rise ; FAREWELL. 71 And the sad music which the trees Respond to the caressing breeze; In mingling unison shall tell That I am still remember'd well : Remembered ! Oh ! upon that word How much of my existence dwells ! My name shall yet be sometimes heard Within my country's verdant dells, And in my mother's daily prayer — How sweet to think 'tis whisper'd there ! Return I from these dreams of things (Which yet are but imaginings, These visions, all too fair to last,) To present things, around me cast. 'Tis ev'ning now ! Amid the haze, In distance dim, the watchfires blaze, And, stretch'd in far and shadowy line, The guardian cliffs my home enshrine, Invisible, save where some star Sheds it's mild lustre from afar, Or where the moon's uncertain ray Quivers upon the crescent-bay. 72 FAREWELL. The night rolls on ! If, haply, sleep Forbid these eyes to watch and weep, If, wrapt in slumber's silent arms, Forgetfulness my spirit calms, 'Ere the glad sun, at morn, shall shed His beams upon my waking head, The little left of all I prize Will vanish from my longing eyes; Nought will there be to meet my view Save the wide waste of waters blue, And round me spread the rolling main, A vast interminable plain. Oh ! then, while mimic fancy's eye Can in yon outlines dim descry, With vivid tints, the hopes and fear>. The joys, the woes, of earlier years, Can mould reflections to her will, What tho' they be illusive! Still Be mine, with thought intense, to dwell On friends afar, remember'd well, Touch'd by their goodness, and subdued By all their soft solicitude ; By watch ings o'er me, when disease Came, on my fainting frame to seize, By guidance when afflictions lower'd, By sympathy when blessings showei J d ; FAREWELL. 73 By these, and for all these, my heart Shall think on those from whom I part, Shall on each act of kindness dwell, And sigh as now — " I bid farewell !" 74 THE TOMB OF THE MIGHTY. And is there then indeed no more ? Can this be deem'd a resting-place For him, the mighty conqueror, Who thought this earth too small a space P Yes, even here, the laurell'd head, Tho' wreath'd with Gallia's ancient crown, Amid the dark and silent dead, Hath laid his regal honours down. Oh ! let no sacrilegious theme Profane this more than sacred spot, Let ev'ry worldly selfish dream, Each idle fancy, be forgot. THE TOMB OF THE MIGHTY. 75 Breathe not a wish upon his tomb, But such as might ascend in pray'r, For who can hope to 'scape their doom, When even he must moulder there? Napoleon! Emperor !— Many a thought Attaches to that stirring name, And many a recollection, fraught With many a deed of guilty shame. Yet judge not harshly of the dead, Whose deeds were crimes in British eyes; In warfare nurs'd, to concmest bred, His acts were ting'd by victory's dyes. Defame him not! There is no need, He never laid his chain on thee; From all his darings England free'd Retain'd her boasted liberty. Where'er o'er subject Europe stream'd The banners of the Gaul unfurl'd, There British sabres proudly gleam'd, There she her vengeful thunders hurl'd 76 THE TOMB OF THE MIGHTY. She was the first to point the way, To bid the nations rally round, She urg'd them to a glorious day, And well they sought it — they have found ! But what of that ? Her troops were rang'd Against a proud imperious foe, But when the tide of fate was chang'd, She spar'd to crush him in his woe. Such be thy conduct — to revere The nobler actions of the brave, Uut for the crimes his breast which Bear Oh ! give them to Oblivion's wave. And may the hero calmly sleep, In peace, that peace he never gave, While the enfranchis'd nations reap Their freedom from his lonely grave. 77 TIIK MARTYR. I. Now twilight spreads it's dusky veil Across the sea-bark's less'ning sail ; The voice of man is heard no more, The holy even-song is o'er, It's echoes, ling'ring on the deep, Seem orPrings at the shrine of sleep : 'Tis past, but, hark ! what minstrelsy Still sends it's cadence o'er the sea P That sea whose billows brightly throw Around a soft phosphoric glow; Two voices, mingling in the song, Their simple melody prolong : Yet is it not the monkish hymn Which heav'nward flows thro' evening dim, 78 THE MARTYR. Nor comes it from the chapel-quire, Nor from the cell of holy sire, But where the dungeon grates appear, With awful front, it comes from there. II. Draw gently near, and downward stoop, Noiseless behold yon woe-worn group, A heretic, by all revil'd, And at his side, his faithful child. Alas ! that poor old man, whose hair Is grey with mingl'd age and care, Must expiate, by fire, when dawn Breathes o'er the sky th' approaching morn, The creed he holds, and die the death Keserv'd for heretics in faith : And that pale girl who near him stands, With downcast eye, and folded hands, Tho' all his former friends are gone, — Inconstant as the wild wind's tone, — Stays, 'mid the wreck of hope, to share A portion of her father's care, That father's last farewell to hear, While, ever and anon, a sigh Tells her con\ul>ive agony; THE MARTYR. 79 Yet never speech, nor single word, Nor whisper of distrust is heard, Tho' deep in anguish, no despair Can enter in with fervent pray'r, Bred in whose deep and holy pow'r, She felt a comfort in that hour ; Tho' all the springs whence human aid Might flow by bigotry are staid, Her meek blue eyes the heav'n have sought, And her pure bosom's purer thought Felt, tho' her hopes from earth were driv'n, They had a resting place in heav'n, She bow'd beneath the chastening rod, And her support was — faith in God. And he — the tear which nature bids Was dropping from his palsied lids, The big round drop, which, gath'ring, fell Upon a cheek he lov'd too well, And on a brow, which, but the Lord Reign'd in his soul, he had ador'd. Well might he weep, for fairer child Ne'er on a doting parent smil'd, Nurs'd amid woe and tears, she grew As a young lily, wet with dew, And strove, with all her pow'r, to cheer His miseries, while he linger'd here, RO THE MARTYR. While such us these the words which dwell Upon his tongue, to bid farewell. " Farewell my child ! Nay do not weep, " I only go in dust to sleep, " Lean not upon me thus, and sigh, " Look up to yonder vaulted sky ; " Where myriads of glitt'ring spheres " Shine calmly on my daughter's tears ; " Each ev'ning turn your sacred gaze " To view the moon's unclouded blaze, " Or if obscur'd her silver car " Behold each bright and sparkling star, " And think amid the boundless space " Is fix'd my glorious dwelling-place ; " Or, nearer still, amid the night, " When slumber from thy couch hath fled, " Albeit not in mortal sight, " Think that I watch around thy bed. " No more of this. — A parent's pray'r " Attend thee thro' this scene of care, " Yet hold the faith, and dare to fall, "If needful, at religion's call : " To those who view aright the pyre " ' Tis more a cause of joy than ire, " Tho' sharp and keen the pang to come " Which wins the crown of martyrdom, HIE MARTYR. 81 " Who would not bear the transient pain •' Undying happiness to gain ? " A troubl'd pathway for the blest, " A fiery track to endless rest, " One moment of convulsive strife — " The portal to eternal life !" III. He paus'd ! The maiden's cheek was glowing, And fast and free the tears were flowing, — But that she could not speak the thought Which in her bursting bosom wrought, — She would have said, " Whate'er betide, " In death as life I'm by thy side." IV. She past away ! The pris'ner turn'd, His soul with anxious bodings yearn'd, So young, so fair, so delicate, And yet withall so desolate, With none to shield her from the cares Of life, from all the crafty snares Of those who strive, with cunning wile, Defenceless beauty to beguile ; G 82 i hi: martyr. But what of that ? A holy pow'r Shall guard her youth each passing hour ; At all events, the pang to part, Which deepest wrings the human heart. Was rooted from his bosom's cote. The bitterness of death was o'er. — V. The hour of midnight — on the lonely gale How flings the bell it's all unearthly wail, O'er the long avenues and streets around Slowly reverberates the awful sound. Then, distant dying, leaves a thrilling peace, As time, itself, must with the echo cease: Darkness upon the city — gloom enshrouds It's dusky precincts with unwonted clouds ; Silence upon the city — stillness lowers Around it's princely palaces and towers, Slumber upon the city — peaceful rest — Which soothes the sick, which makes the wretched blest, And proves a grateful interval to those Whose waking moments brood upon their woes: Repose and stillness reign supreme o'er all, And darkness wraps them in her sable pall. I UK JIAIiTV!!. s; * J lark! on the solemn silence of the hour, Rises a clear sweet voice, with holy pow'r ; As sunlight gleaming o'er a stormy sky, As ' beauty's daughters' smiling thro' their tears, As the soft voice of childhood's melody Recurring to the thoughts of after years, Or fairy spells, upon the young heart, cast. Such is that music, borne upon the blast : Once tun'd those lips to bliss, but now alone Sacred to sorrow is their rich full tone, Oft' chok'd that voice by many a rising sigh, And tears are dimming that o'er-clouded eye, It shall beam bright again — tho' sorrows curl In serpent folds around thy heart, poor girl ! Tho' grief is tainting ev'ry throbbing vein, Brief is the rule of agony and pain ; Soon shall that God thou worship'st here below, Translate thee, purer than the driven snow, To meet the cherish'd being of thy love, No more to part, in happier realms above : And, oh ! thou bearest nobly ! Fancy paints Thy white-rob'd form amid the choir of saints, Hymning, as now, the praise which is the Lord's, In more seraphic strain, with holier words ; Again that music floating on the breeze, The words, but not the air or tone I seize. g2 84 THE MARTY It. God of the wretched let my voice Ascend, in pray'r, to thee ! Oh ! bid my fainting soul rejoice, And acquiesce, whate'er the choice Thou hast decreed for me. My heart, in deep distress, I raise, Lord ! to thy glorious throne, 1 strive to hymn, in fervent lays, The depths of thy mysterious ways, And wonders, all thine own. My spirit dreams of many things My faith still trusts to see, And glorious imaginings. Till fancy lends me airy wings. Whereon to fly to thee. Oh ! if thy providence see good To bid my father die, To seal his faith with human blood, Sustain his spirit in the flood Of mortal agony. THK MARTYR. 85 And, oh ! as thou art mercy all, Lord hear a sinner pray, Grant that the moment of his fall His daughter may to dust recall, And bear my soul away. In murmurs dies away the pensive strain, And the lone midnight hour is still again. — Pillow'd upon the couch beneath her spread, With all religion's influence o'er her shed, Exhausted by her thousand miseries, All peaceful slumber gently seals her eyes, And she is sleeping, ( for no foe to rest Hath soil'd the current of her sinless breast,' Repose drops lightly o'er her innocence, And in oblivion wraps each suff'ring sense, There may she rest, and may recruited pow'r Sustain her firmness in the trying hour. VI. Lightly comes down the morning ray, Glad presage of approaching day, And night's black curtain, slowly furl'd, Leaves, for a time, this guilty world ; 86 THE MARTYR. Hul why, with deep and solemn knell, Tolls sadly forth the convent hell ? And why that trumpet's wailing hlast, Which, far in distance, sweepeth past ? They come — the monks in order moving, The lowlier crowd more loosely roving, The soldiers' plumes are gaily dancing, Their armour in the sunbeams glancing, With swords which, flashing ev'ry way, Spread all around a sparkling ray ; And in the midst a pris'ner bound, And well with guards encircl'd round, Moves slowly on to reach the pile Prepar'd for one who knew not guile. Brief* preparation ! Soon his frame Is hid by volum'd wreaths of flame, The liery streamers swift ascend, And with the dazzling sunlight blend, A moment stay, then soar on high, Beyond the reach of mortal eye, Where, rang'd in order bright and fair, They form a car of fire to bear Th' enfranchis'd spirit thro' the air, A chariot celestial, giv'n To waft i 1 !'' guiltless soul to heav'n. THE MARTYR. 87 Nor waits it long, — a moment's space His voice was heard in pray'r and praise, " Forgive them, Lord !" the martyr said, Then feebly bow'd his aged head ; One struggle, one convulsive shiver — 'Twas past — his sorrows slept for ever. The fire sank down — it flicker'd — dropt — His life was gone — his pulse was stopt. VII. Alas ! that sad and with'ring shriek Of some poor heart, about to break ! She came, and the deep crowded press Gave back before her wild distress, Till, all amid the multitude, An angel o'er the dead she stood ; Her wan and slender form was drest In virgin robe, and flowing vest : No sound she utter'd, save that cry, No tear was glancing in her eye, But there amid the smould'ring fire She clasp'd her arms around her sire, Near to his blacken'd corpse she clung, And on his neck in anguish hung; 88 THE MARTYR. They who the nearest stood might hear A stifl'd murmur strike their ear, Might trace a long and feeble moan, And life exhal'd in that deep groan, All heavily fell down her head, And all was past, her soul was fled : When lowly kneeling, fervently, She gave to God her humble cry, That God, whose splendour maketh dim The majesty, compar'd to him, Of Cherubim, and Seraphim, Look'd down upon her, weeping there, And gave his sanction to her pray'r ; The hour which summon'd from this earth The sire to whom she ow'd her birth Releas'd her from the load of woe, Which such as her alone can know, And, in the mansions of the blest, Afforded her an endless rest, Spake peace unto her wounded soul, And made her broken spirit whole : Lovely were they in life and breath, And undivided in their death. VIII. Three hundred years have past away, Kv'n as the parted yesterday, THE MARTYR. 89 Three hundred years of blood and crime Are wafted down the stream of time ; A change on cities, and on kings, Transition to all mortal things; Where are the breasts which, 'erewhile, felt Whatever makes our bosoms melt, Beings whose forms were like our own, Who thought our thoughts, where are they ? Gone — Forgotten — past — another race Usurp their honours, and their place. How beautiful, amid the scene, Is yonder turf of emerald green, Thro' which the bubbling waters run, On which looks down the glorious sun, Around it trees their shadows throw, Upon it flow'rs of fragrance grow ; Within its precincts is a tomb, Ah ! man, thou minister of doom ! Ever where nature fairest smiles Some violence the place defiles ; Here meek religion's sufF'rings clos'd, Here is the sacred dust repos'd, And, even from this verdant sod, The martyr's spirit wingM to God. 1)0 THE M kRTYR. They, whose harsh spirits' vengeful hate, And fiery zeal had wrought this fate, Have past away without a name, A record of their endless shame ; While they, whose sufferings and whose WOi I feebly have essay'd to show , Their deep emotions, blood, and tears. Are themes of long departed years; And all their sorrows but avail ' To point a moral or adorn a lale.' :>l The worm shall feed sweetly on him. Job c. 24, v. 20. / have saiil tn the worm. Thou art my sister. Job c. 17, v. 11. Lo ! the corpse to death resign'd By it's more immortal spark, On the guidance of the wind, Launching timidly it's bark, Oh ! how cheerh--- Is the cold unconscious ark. Fair in life, but loathsome then, Hid beneath the silent urn, All that lovely seem'd to men Vanish'd, never to return, And no more shall Fond affection o'er it mourn. 92 There, enclos'd from mortal view, The body festers in it's shroud. Fungous plants, of livid hue, Spring from the corrupted blood ; There the worms shall Batten on their horrid food. Closer still the reptiles clinging Banquet with increasing lust, Plants, with more luxuriance springing, Form the acme of disgust : This the progress Of the fiat ' dust to dust.' ' The worm thy sister there shall be, ' Sweetly shall it feed on thee.' But and if the spark divine Rises to a nobler sphere, Gladly may this earthly shrine Moulder in destruction here, It avails not So the soul in God appear. ' The worm my sister there may be, ' Sweetly may it feed on me.' 93 THE PRINCE OF DARKNESS. T. He sat upon his throne, a world By some chaotic tumult hurl'd Far blazing- from its sphere on high — The brilliant empyrean sky : At times, a wild and lurid glow Shot fiercely o'er his scowling brow, Which, writh'd in wild contortions, seems The bodied shape of fever's dreams ; There was a something in his eye But few could look on steadfastly; It was not pride, it was not hate, Nor dark ambition's haughty state, Nought that I know could contrast well With his large eye-ball's restless swell, })! I III: PRINCE OF DARKNESS. Not one who met his gaze could give A glance of anger back, and li\» ■: Around his feature's pallid hue His hair it's long black tresses threw, While deep-suppress'd emotion gave His face the sternness of the grave. The spirit rested, all alone, Upon his vast but ruin'd throne ; Within his presence, and around, live met no vision, ear no sound, Where'er he wav'd his shadowy wing Nor mov'd, nor breath'd, a living thing. Exulting in his arrowy speed. His eye with youthful vigour glancing, Fleeter than light, a sportive steed Rush'd on thro' space, all wildly prancing, He near^d the spot, a transient quiver — Existence fled his frame for ever; A bird soar'd by, on airy pinion, But, ent'ring to his drear dominion, A moment flutter'd, fell, and died, Heavily dropping at his side : He heeded not, for ebbing breath He coveted, and mortal death ; THE PRINCE OF DARKNESS. !>■"> Perpetual in misery, It was his doom, he could not die, But still in gloomy grandeur sale, Crown'd ruler of the desolate, Struggling, 'mid anger, pride, and woe, His punishment to undergo — With outward scoff, and scom of care, To hide the depths of his despair; Ever his features' wild expression Gave fearful token of transgression, Yet, with assum'd indifference, Strove to assert his innocence ; Tenant, in wrath, of endless space — The guiltiest of a guilty race. — Boundless in pow'r, and uncontroll'd Where'er his haughtiest wishes roll'd, Mightiest of essences, save one, And yet he sate alone, alone ! II. When on th' horizon's smiling bound The glorious sun looks brightly round, If on the west appear a speck — The harbinger of many a wreck — }><) THE PRINCE OF DARKNESS Tho' calmly o'er her wat'ry throne The gallant vessel glideth on, Tho' scarce is breeze enough to urge Her progress o'er the sleeping surge, And from the deck glad melody Sweeps softly o'er the rolling main, As fabPd swans, about to die. Pour to the gale their sweetest strain, And tho' beneath the azure hue Of ocean yonder arch of blue, With wav'ring motion, wildly bright, Is back reflected into light ; Sudden ihe practis'd seaman views. And tells the inauspicious news, The sails are close reev'd to the block, In readiness to meet the shock, And awful silence reigneth there : — Destruction's whirlwind messenger Sweepeth across the foaming sea, And the proud vessel — Where is she ? A moment's strife for mastery, And then the last appalling cry ! Seek ye some lov'd remains to weep ? Go, ask them of the raging deep ; Search ye the waters ? On them cast A splintered beam, or shatter'd mast, 1 1 1 1 : PRINCE OF DARKNESS. i»7 These tell the triumphs of the wave, But, for the dear ones whom ye seek, Doth not the storm, in thunder speak, And point to their unfathom'd graves ? ' Tis ever thus — all human ties Are rent from human sympathies. Dark chieftain of the desolate ! Herein behold thy bitter fate ; Heav'n was thy brightly smiling sky, Thy God the luminary nigh ; And for that cloud which scathe foretold To thee — when in seraphic mould. ' Mong cherub legions hovering near Thou to the brightest wer't the peer. When morning saw thy pinions ride On rays of light — know, thou, 'twas pride: As the fierce whirlwind rushing past It bore thee on it's lightning-blast, It hurl'd thee to the depths below, And gloried in thine overthrow ; But they who o'er thy fate should mourn With thee to the abyss are borne, Condemn'd with thee to banishment, And endless life their punishment, H 98 THE PRINCE OF DARKNESS. Si ill longing for that milder fate The woe time might annihilate, But never ! Earth may melt away, The heav'ns be rent, the stars decay. Still, 'mid the elemental strife, Their's is thy curse — unending life — Bade far from heav'n and hope to dwell, This is their doom, and this thy hell. III. Oh ! not unknown in scripture lines The magnitude of thy designs, Too oft' in holy writ pourtray'd Are shewn the suff'rings thou hast mad. Thou dark destroyer ! It was thine The bliss of man to undermine, Thy fell and subtle promptings led The eldest-born, in wrath, to shed, With murd'rous ire, his brother's blood, When earth first drank the crimson flood : Evermore, in thy vengeful pride, It was thine aim to dash aside The pow'r of God, and slight his laws; These were thine efforts ! Thou the cause Why burst on Egypt's fertile plain Plagues, darkness, tempest, storm, and rain ' THE PRINCE OF DARKNESS. 99 Insatiate still, thou did'st impart That deeper curse, a hard en'd heart, Whence came her people vainly tried To brave their God; they strove and died; Thousands, nay tens of thousands, fall Buried beneath the wat'ry wall, Kings, rulers, nobles, all thy slaves, Perish beneath the whelming waves. Since then thine impress bears the stamp, Where darkly in th' Assyrian camp Wide the destroying angel waves His weapon o'er unnumbered graves ; A host, uncounted as the sand Where the proud ocean meets the land, Had spread at eve their martial feast, And thence retired to sleep their fill, But when the sun rose in the east Death had been busy — all was still ! The war steed's tramp, the trumpet's tone, The bugle's clangor — all were gone ! The fiery troops to vict'ry led By princely Satraps — all were dead ! Yet wherefore vainly seek to trace Thine hatred of the human race, H 2 100 THE PRINCE OF DARKNESS. Since all the waste of blood in strife, The prodigality of life, The widows' woes, the orphans' tears, The heroes' deaths, thro' lapsing years, Rise up with horrors, all their own, In baleful mists around thy throne; And, oh ! for these, and more to come, Fix'd in irrevocable doom, Darker and darker still shall be, Chieftain of wrong ! thine agony ; As age rolls on, succeeding age, Eternity in every stage, No ray of hope shall cheer thy doom, But endless woe be thine, and never ending gloom. 101 \ DREAM. Spirits of other days, awake, arise ! In countless train appear before mine eyes, From those drear scenes where stern Oblivion's power Bids the cold shades of parted ages cower, Yet to be thron'd, within the silent tomb, On present hours, and unborn years to come, Brooding on desolation, on the crimes, The blood, the horrors, of departed times. Ye must behold strange sights, ye mighty dead ! Visions of things from earthly spirits hid, And deeds of thrilling pow'r, the voiceless stream Of other worlds, a long, a shadowy dream : L02 a DREAM. Oh ! from your cold receptacles, the colls Where human flesh with foul corruption dwells, Where this frail dust, which in it's spider folds Of finite life the immortal spirit holds, That life departed, sinks to dust— arise, And hlend my thoughts with deeper phantasies ! In indistinct appearance dimly reign, And hid ideas flash across my hrain, Strange as the destinies of your dark bed, And solemn as yourselves, ye mighty dead ! Strong as the waters when, in rapid force, They foam, and dash, and whirl, along their course, Impetuous rolling o'er the rocky steep, They rush to mingle with the distant deep ; While, hovering brightly o'er their eddying streams, The rising spray — a gorgeous canopy — fn the gay glitter of the sunlight, seems A many colour'd robe of majesty, To shroud it's deep sublimity from eyes Which view such wondrous scenes without surprise. II. They come ! they hover ! Struggling thro' the night, Each bedded on a cloud of purple light, A DREAM. 103 As if too soon the early morn had ris'n, And burst the portals of her orient pris'n, \s if the bright Aurora's hand had thrown A glorious robe, ' her beautiful, her own/ Of gold and purple's rich embroidery, Even in that dead hour across the sky : Host upon host, a long, a countless train, Arrang'd and class'd in order fair and plain, Not in respect to time, or space, or aught Of man's invention, or of earthly thought; The wild Arabian from his deserts bare, And he who held in classic realms a share, The Indian dweller at the torrid zone, With Europe's favour'd sons, together thrown, He who all recently resign'd his breath, And he who slept for ages past in death, The one who liv'd and breath'd but yesterday, With him who wielded Rome's imperial sway. Where yon red flag a proud defiance waves, And flutters wildly o'er uncounted graves, Are rank'd the warriors. Mark the lofty grace, The upcurl'd lip, die all commanding face, And stout athletic form — 'tis Gallia's Lord, Who strove to reign upon a vanquished world, But when the nations, leagued in wide accord, The soaring chieftain from his empire hurl'd, 104 \ DREAM. Vailing his pride to overwhelming force, He own'd that pow'r, whose mighi he could not quell, And, stay'd midway in his gigantic course, A^ Caesar yielded, so Napoleon fell. III. There, where Minerva's aegis spreads around The piercing rays of truth, is Genius found ; First in the vanguard of whose hosts, behold, Immortal Shakspeare's deathless name enroll'd ; And he, across whose melancholy brow l-uxuriant curls their dark'ning shadows throw, He, the sad bard, whose unfulfill'd desire Rais'd to the highest his poetic fire, Whose fairest hopes were ever whelm'd in dust, And his fine features moulded to disgust, Seal'd with the impress of consuming grief Which ever sought, but never found relief; From that sad moment when his home's fond ties Were rent in twain before his suffering eyes, To disappointed aims on Graecia's shore, One freight of grief his shatter'd vessel bore, Toss'd on the billows of desponding care, Or plunging madly to thy gulf; despair ! A DREAM. 105 Too early wreck'd. Ye thronging hosts away a My drooping spirit will no longer stay To L^aze again upon the sadden'd sight. What is this world ? Oh ! what each vain delight ' If he who held communion with the sky, Thron'd on whose writings, Immortality Well pleas'd, had seated her majestic throne, Folded her wings, and mark'd him for her own. If melancholy even in his breast It's deep corroding canker-worm had bred, Till the dark fiend, with sorrow and unrest, Had broke his heart, and life with youth had tied. I pause no longer. Ye who taught the stone The magic of your mighty skill to own, Who bade the rugged blocks of nature's mine To emulate the ' human form divine ;' Ye who upon the glowing canvass trac'd Departed scenes, and glorious acts embrac'd, Gave to posterity the virtuous train, With their heroic actions, to remain, Vivid with life-like tints, to after years ; Or ye who sweetly charm'd the list'ning ears With music ravish'd from the Seraph-choir, And form'd the lute of heav'n's celestial fire ; All ye away : it is not happiness, It is not good ye teach, He found not bliss, lOH \ DREAM. He was not happy — on life's paths astray ;- My soul is weary: idle forms, away! IV. The solemn rushing of the mighty blast Thro' the still arch of heav'n ! Before it cast As vessels drifting wildly thro' the storm So floats each spectre-cloud, each shadowy form, Those insubstantial visions slowly die, In less'ning distance, till the gazer's eye, In place of all that crowd, as sunshine bright, Beholds the lonely aspect of the night. My dream is over ! Jn these midnight hours My soul endeavours to recall her pow'rs; It was a gorgeous vision, forms of light, In long succession, rush'd upon the sight, Yet in yon azure concave, where each star Is wheeling calmly on it's course afar, And in it's sphere is shedding silver rays, Are none of supernatural essences ; Of all the hosts my soul with being shrouds Remaineth nought, save where the sombre clouds, A DREAM. 107 In close array, await the coming morn, These, and heav'n's fair Sultana's silver horn Tinging with midnight holiness the scene, How like to fairy dreams, which 'erst have been ! Bring magic slumber on — to sleep — to dream — And waft my soul, on Lethe's rapid stream, To worlds where mimic fancy pranks her bow'r, And decks it's precincts with her airiest pow'r, Come balmy sleep, thy peaceful influence shed, Thy choicest blessings, round my lonely bed. 10* [N V AS 10 N . Lo ! tlie flaring beacon rise Redly to the midnight skies, Sec the flames all wildly skim O'er the forest umbrage dim, Over scenes where many a feud Delug'd earth with human blood, And parted ages idly gave The noble to untimely grave ; Over hill, and dale, and heath, Glancing on each misty wreath, Startling, with it's sudden light, The dreary stillness of the night. INVASION. 109 It is answer'd ! Hill and peak Roll the fiery signal back, Ev'ry headland, cape, and height, (I litter in the warning light, Caught and answer'd from afar, Till, as 't were, each twinkling star Had fall'n on Britain's shore, and lent A wild and ominous portent. They are answer'd ! Nobly now Valour fires each dauntless brow, Pouring onward to the coast, Wavelike rolls the mighty host, Not a word which tells of fear Breaks upon the list'ning ear, Not an accent of despair From the thousands gather'd there No ! For they are Britons come To defend their hearth and home, To guard their best and dearest ties From the grasp of enemies : — ' Ere the dark usurper's force Sweep in proud and lawless course, Like the angry surge's swell, To conquer the impregnable. 110 INVASION. Many a cold and nerveless hand Shall dying yield the shattcr'd brand ; Desolation, stillness, death, These shall weave the victor's wreath, — Meet diadem to bind his head, Whose only rule is o'er the dead, — For while one living hand can wing It's dart against the despot king, So long resistance still shall cast It's deadly weapon to the last, So long shall British zeal defend Our native country to the end ; And should he mount at length the throne. By Freedom hallow'd as her own, Poor triumph will be his to reign As monarch o'er a pile of slain. ' Ere he gain the promis'd land Hosts shall strew the crimson sand, Heaps on heaps shall bravely fall, Battling for their country's weal, Rang'd around, a living wall, Arm'd with thunder, fire, and steel ; Yea, the meanest peasant then, Issuing from his barren glen, With the proudest peer shall vie Tn the cause to win or die : INVASION. Serf and Lord, Esquire and Knight, All shall bravely stem the fight, Never on her ramparts, Gaul ! Shall thy blazon'd lilies wreath Float till horror's deepest pall Shroud her hardy sons in death ; Yet beware ! A people fighting For a nation's name and place, The red Simoom in fury blighting All within it's fiery space Were a zephyr's breath compar'd To the deeds which such have dar'd. II. Pride of the world — by sea and land How nobly rose thy guardian band, My country ! As the theme I trace A glow upon my brow and face Speaks to the swelling thoughts which roll Across my proud exulting soul, And bids me joy to know my birth Took place upon this sainted earth : For, in that deeply sacred hour, Pale terror lost it's wonted pow'r, 111 112 INVASION. Females, who scarcely dar'd to read Of distant war, and bloody deed, Repress'd their fears, and nobly strove In freedom's cause to conquer love ; Yea, even then, the timid bride Girt to her late-won husband's side The glitt'ring sword, and, with a tear Emblem of firmness, not of fear, Bade him to seek the battle's roar, And conquer, or return no more; The widow'd mother, bent with age, Foresaw unmov'd the combat's rage, She gave her life's sole prop, her son, She had no more, the only one, She sent him to the glorious field, There might he die, but never yield ; Aye, in that hour, the father cast On his sweet babe, one look, the last, One moment in affection prest His tender nursling to his breast. Which smil'd adieu, and forth lie went. Steel'd to the war with firm intent. It was indeed a sacred cause ; Our homes ! our liberties ! our laws ! Our monarch! — Oh! if one had licl\ week, and day by day, Were nought but rain, and tempest's sway, It' o'er the gloomy landscape fly A sunbea.ni glancing from on high, Across the field, or on the lake, Or darting thro' the thorny brake, How lovely is it's fairy form, Which tells of the subsiding storm. And, herald-like, it's badge displays In sign of peace, and brighter days, Which bids the mournful earth rejoice, And hail the near-approaching calm ; Such the effect of woman's voice, On bosoms which can feel the charm, Yielding unto the heart again Serenity in lieu of pain. Soft voice and holy ! Mem'ry brings It's tone to our imaginings, Whene'er our roving thoughts we cast, In retrospect, upon the past; From the first breath of life which came Painfully on each infant frame, From the first dawn of earliest years. Thro' childhood's vale of smiles and tears, Still thro' advancing years it sheds Jt's chast'ning influence o'er our heads ; J -2-2 Ml SIC. Tn manhood >h>' is by i<> share. And to enhance each mutual Ui^. Doth sorrow threaten ? She is near. In love to ward off even ihis. Her voice the fount whence gladness flows, Her voice the soother of our woe-- ; And in declining years, when age Warns us to quit life's gloomy stage, It's music still is lent to charm, It pours around it's soothing- balm, Sheds peace upon our ebbing breath, \nd cheers us in the arms of death. DEATH. Ye whom affection's golden chord hath bound The dreary couch of death to wait around, Who near the bed of anguish, day by day, Beheld some lov'd one slowly pass away, Who pillow'd gently on your breast the head, Soon to be number'd with the silent dead, Say, did not ev'ry fainter pulse that beat To make their near-appointed sum complete, — Each groan, the voice of agonizing pain, — Bind round your bleeding hearts a firmer chain ? When the chill damps of death were slowly stealing Along the brow, and dark'ning ev'ry feeling, Did not each fainter gasp, each fleeting sigh, Around you cast a deeper, fonder, tie ? 124 DEATH. Till there the lov'd one rested, fix'd in death, No sound, no motion, no complaint, no breath; Each mortal function vanish'd, one by our. And last the gratitude for kindness gone, While the o'erpow'ring sense of anguish broke The heart awhile, and bow'd it to the stroke. Oh! ever thus ! and when, at length, despair < l-ave way to milder forms of sentient care, Waking once more to sorrow's deep'ning povv'r The soul which felt not in that darkened hour, Did ye not count again the bounding throbs, And number o'er the last convulsive sobs, Till burst the stream from each o'erlabour'd breast, The fountain ebb'd away, and then came rest 3 Then came the calm and chasten'd band of grief, Not in it's agony to spurn relief, But mix'd with resignation, which can own ' Who gave hath taken back, his will be done.' Years will roll on; the sorrows of the soul, Bound to their chariot wheels, may with them roll. Joy may again be found, and pleasure bring To the gay bosom a perpetual spring, Bui underneath it all are sorrow's train, Which only wait the word to wake again. How wonderful the human heart appears! Where rest the themes of long departed years, DEATH. 125 And rest in darkness, till a single word, A glance, a tone, a whisper scarcely beard, Some unforgotten note of music's swell, Brings them to mem'ry back with potent spell ; But chiefly midnight, silence, and to roam On fancy's wing across the boundless heav'n, Bring back past scenes of deepest int'rest home, At least o'er me such pow'r to-night is giv'n ; Awaking dreams of bliss, long fleeted by, Too fair to live, which never wholly die, Each in succession rising on the mind, To fill the void another left behind, And giving way in turn to one whose reign, Brief as the former, sinks to dust again : So when the sun in parting glory dies, His evening splendours tinge with light the skies, Ten thousand varied tints on ether stream, And fade, succeeded by as short a gleam, Till gath'ring twilight shuts the scene from sight. And the last lovely colour fades to night. II. What then is death? It is a pathway giv'n, A portal gate, an entrance into heav'n, It is the ceasing of a toilsome strife, The spirit's earliest glimpse of endless lib'. 126 DEATH. Exchanging grief, and care, and pain, and breath, For immortality — and this is death ! Yes this is death, hut tho' it be the sen I Of all those hopes which holy books reveal, Tho' the glad spirits which triumphant rise O'er sin and fate it speeds to yonder skies, Yet to the friends on earth's dark border left. Of brother, sister, parent, child, bereft, Death from it's earliest records still hath been A melancholy and a fearful scene ; We cannot rend at once from out the heart Ties which within it grew — nor feel the smart, We cannot ponder on the marble urn Of those who once were dear to us — nor mourn ; We scarce can view a flovv'r whose leaves are shed, It's beauty gone, it's fragrant odour fled, But we perforce shall find a chillness cling A round the gayest bosom's vital spring : The bird which dies within the forest glade, The wildling flow'ret, blooming but to fade, The meanest thing which falls, to us unknown, Is mourn'd by nature, grieving for her own. TTT. Death then is mournful ! Sorrow is tbe lot [mpos'd by sin, the doom is unforgot, DEATH. L-27 But hope, too, may be there, her piercing sight Lays open other realms of dazzling light, And bids us know, while we in anguish weep, That death is not to be eternal sleep. What, tho' the body rest in stillness here ? The soul is tenant of a nobler sphere ; Destruction, darkness, agony, and gloom, These all are buried in the silent tomb, Glory, and life, and light, and pleasure, beam Beyond the grave in one continued stream. IV. Poor mourning child of error and of care. A moment pause, nor impiously despair ; Survey the universe from pole to pole, And mark the worlds of light which o'er it roll, Ten thousand dazzling spheres on ether shine, Each form'd to be a temple and a shrine ; And if apart from others, pensively. One gem appear upon the spangl'd sky. Shedding it's melancholy rays afar, Gaze, mutely, deeply, on that lovely star; And, with absorbing interest, fix thy sight. Nay more, thy soul, upon that lamp of light ; 1JS DEATH. People it's orb with beings, such as may Live thro' eternity's unbounded day, Form them that never sorrow nor distress Pervade their lives, but, blessing and to bless, They may exist in joys unbroken dream, Fnharm'd, untouch'd, by time's overwhelming stream 'Tis pictur'd well ! Suppose from yonder sphere, For some deep misdemeanour banish'd here, It's guardian Seraph, reft from joys on high, Were bid on earth to toil thro' life, and die, Veil'd all the glories of his princely state, His kingdom gone, his empire desolate, With none to watch his pleasure, none to bear His messages of honour here and there, None at his high command to spread the board, To wait his pleasure, list his slightest word, But here condemn'd to poverty and toil, To eat the bread of care, to till the soil, Could happiness be his ? Oh ! surely not ! Too deep his guilt, too abject were his lot. But should that judge, by whose severe decree He suffers here this load of misery, B id him, when death shall bear his soul away, Again exult in realms of endless day, Govern once more in his paternal orb, Direct it's course, the planet's system curb, DEATH. I -J!) Restor'd to empire, reign the monarch sole To guide his kingdom's path from pole to pole. Suppose him then upon the couch of death, And, ling'ring there, he faintly draws his breath, What countless visions of unuttcr'd joy I lis anguish'd spirit's ev'ry thought employ, How slow appears the lagging hour to come Which bears him back to his eternal home ; Still, as he waits, behold a deeper throb, A fainter gasp, a more convulsive sob, A yet more ardent interval of strife, He quits this globe, and enters into life : Then, as an arrow loosen'd from a bow, So speeds the Seraph from this world below, Borne on impatient pinions, lo ! he flies Again to seek his mansion in the skies ; Away, away, he darts, the lightning's flash Left far behind it's airy brightness flings, Away, away, the thunder's echoing crash Rolls in wild grandeur from his waving wings. Onward he speeds ! We mark his awful form Wafted upon the chariot of the storm ; Nor storm, nor tempest, nor the deluge fall Of mighty waters, can his soul appal, — Nurs'd, 'mid the conflicts of the clouds, he soars Where'er their jarring element appears, K l:il) DEATH. Bred in their whirlwind vortex, all their roars And all their horrors, wake his earlier years Again in mem'ry's eye, and they hut urge Him onward, even as the warrior-steed, Spent with the toil, and heedless of the scourge, Hearing the trumpet, hursts to fleeter speed : Away past spheres which never human thought, Not e'en thy soaring genius, Newton ! sought, Not e'en thy spirit, from it's vantage place, Beheld so boundless or so bright a space ; Now yon fair orb, which lights to open day This globe, and regulates it's annual way. Appears but as some feebler star to gleam Amid yon nobler planets' brighter beam, Planets, whose golden rays, with swift-wing'd pow'r, From the first dawn of the creation's hour Have held athwart the universe their flight, Yet still unnotic'd here their arrowy light, Which, when ten thousand thousand years have sped, Their virgin brightness on this world will shed ; Unknown till then, such distance intervenes Betwixt their source and earth's more humble scenes. Be still my soul ! Thy best attempts how vain To track the Seraph to his home again ; I f the great poet who made man his theme, Or the fam'd bard who sang redemption's scheme DEATH. ISJ If Milton's genius, or if Shakspeare's fire, Again return'd to sway the lofty lyre, If, join'cl to these, the Mantuan's skill again, Or the deep grandeur of th' Homeric strain, Rising, thro' parted ages, should awake, And speak, as yet to come, the trump shall speak, That trump, of which 'lis said it's voice will shake The earth and ocean to their base, too weak, Too feeble the attempt, they could not trace The lofty ruler to his dwelling place. Yet, oh ! 'tis but a thought, and fancy will In her dominion reign unconquer'd still, Fancy, which bursts thro' bonds and death to soar On wings where never mortal came before ; She pictures brightly forth the massive gate Flung open wide, and in unmeasur'd state, Amid the homage of encircling peers, The long departed prince his people cheers, Celestial odours waft delight around, And mingle softly with sweet music's sound ; Lo ! deck'd with rainbow tints, all richly wrought, And form'd of gold from heav'n's eternal zone. In glowing radiance, far surpassing thought, Stands in the princely court the regal throne ; Thereon he seats himself, and straight a cry Reverberates along the startl'd sky, k 2 132 DKATH. Which bursts from all lh' assembl'd hosts around — " He that was dead is ris'n, the h>si is found." Such then is death, and such my humble verse Attempts, but ah ! how feebly, to rehearse ; Engrav'd the sentence stands in writ of old, By him, the one who cannot lie ! foretold, That, when beyond the confines of the grave, The soul returns unto the Cion who gave ; So when the spirits of the just in faith, For sin, are brought unto the gates of death, When carried on by Jordan's swelling wave, They sink, the swift to hear and strong to save ! Rescues them from that high and foaming flood, And bids them weleome, ransom'd by his blood ; Then the redeem'd, array'd in spotless white, And moving in an atmosphere of light, \iv bid by him, who died such pow'r to gain, \^ kings and princes evermore i<> reign. VI. Poor mourner, that, with aspect desolate, Sit'st grieving, weep not then thy lov'd one's fate. DEATH. 133 Over the boundless universe he roves, And with supreme delight — a Seraph moves ; Celestial attributes his form enshrine, And gold and gems around his head entwine, Nor add to his pure brow a richer blaze, But gather lustre from his brighter rays; While angel-bands, in holy chorus, sing- Hymns which thro' heav'n's expanse, in music, ring, " Glory and honour for the soul which pass'd " To earth as mortal is retum'd at last." The scene grows brighter, ages still roll on. And perfect bliss surrounds th' almighty throne, Myriads of years, as atoms, float away, But still unqueneh'd that all effulgent day, In lengthened vista joys on joys arise, The bright, the boundless glories of the skit But here I pause ! A sense of giddy pain Darts thro' the burning chamber of my brain, Too high the fount of mine imaginings, 1 dare not muse upon such lofty things ; There are who glowing themes are wont to trace, In words of tire, which time can ne'er efface, To such the honours of this verse belong. Worthy the theme — all worthy he Hie soul: ' I.»i DEATH. VII. For me, there are who deem my mind too weak Of such exalted mysteries to speak; There are whose brighter nobler spirits deem Mine not the voice to hymn such lofty theme ; Yet wherefore thus ? Not all can reach the height Of the thron'd eagle, which, in tow'ring flight, I lovers, all cloud-like, o'er the sacred hill, * And strives it's eyrie in the heav'n to make ; Nor touch'd the lyre with an unvaried skill By all whose hands the sacred symbol take, Yit they who highest aim the loftiest soar, And if I fail, have others not before? If the mysterious lays of sacred truth Are not the themes for mine untutor'd youth, And hope there is not that maturer age May cast a brighter lustre o'er my page, Why let me sing awhile unheeded on, To please myself I wake the varied tone, * Parnassus. Vide the following lines of Byron : — On Parnassus seen the eagles fly, Like spirits of the spot, unutterably high. CiiiLnii Haroldl. DEATH. 135 Or if, a> praise is sweet, and never praise Sounds to the ear as in our youthful days, If there be those who pause on simple things, Whoso 1, roasts respond to music's wilder strings, [f such there be who list an early strain. Who, for a moment, entertain and cherish Feelings which but for them would early perish, For such I strike the lyre, nor touch it's chords in vain. 1 36 A VISION These our actors, As i foretold you, were all spirits, and Are melted into air, into thin air, And like the baseless fabric of this vision, The cloud capt towers, the gorgeous palaces, The solemn temples, the great globe itself, Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve ; And like this insubstantial pageant faded, Leave not a rack behind. SlIAKSPEAUE. 1 dream'd that it should be my doom To be no tenant of the tomb, That I was fated ne'er to die, Nor yield me to mortality ; Yea, even then, my fancy sped Thro" ages yet lo come, \ vision. 137 T past, with slow desponding tread, The ashes of my home, All that my fancy e'er had known To darkness and the grave uere gone, Years had roll'd by, I wander'd forth To look upon the alter'd earth. TI. I sought for London, it was gone, The place whereon it stood Had neither ruin, wall, nor stone, But on it grew a wood, The slightest tree wherein which wav'd An hundred centuries had brav'd : I ask'd of those who dwelt around If they had never heard a sound, By far tradition wafted down, That once had flourish'd there a town, They answer'd " no," and in amaze, Turn'd on the questioner to gaze. TIT. My bark was swift, my men were brave, We hasted o'er the foaming wave, 188 a vish'V Like sea-birds speeding, and behold ! The dark blue rushing waters roll'd Onward to lave the distant shore, With ceaseless dash, as heretofore, And there was gladness in their roar, It seem'd as I had still a friend W hose friendship would not warp nor hen. I. It seem'd as if the changeless sea Alone held immortality. [V I hasted to Italia'-- shore. And it was lovely as before. The curtain of the sniilinu sk\ Beam'd with as pun an azure dye, The peasant girls as sweetly sang, And music o'er the landscape rang, Beauty came forth, and join'd her hand With nature, in celestial band. V. lake to a speck of ocean-loam. Borne on the wafting breeze 1 hasted lo eternal Rome, Citv Of Palaces! A VISION. 139 Ruler of nations ! Altar-shrine Of Pagan race, and Christian line ! I thought at least to find thy home, Eternal city ! Endless Rome ! But it was gone, a desert spread Where monarchs vail'd the princely head : Where lordly priests and prelates sale In more than regal pomp and state, Had desolation spread her pall, Of mourning, for that empire's fall. With hopeless eye, and aspect wan, I sought to find the Vatican, The ravens o'er me darkly scowl'd, The gaunt wolves round me wildly how I'd : The temple of the God divine, The beautiful, the peerless shrine, Which rear'd on high it's awful form, Sublime as an embodied storm ! Far o'er the world, a beacon light, To bid the nations worship right ; Where that had been the grass was rank, With marshy exhalations dank, Reptiles, and birds, and beasts, flock'd by, (i hiring on me with curious eye; They wonder'd, as I thought, to set A thing uncouth and rare as me. 1 10 A VISION. VI. \n;iin upon the wat'ry waste, With fiery speed, and eager haste, The wind came by upon the deep, My white sail nobly swelling, Swiftly my course afar to sweep Again to earthly dwelling ; So fleet my gallant bark sped on Like eagles soaring to the sun, Till having past the distance o'er I landed upon Egypt's shore. VII. With fleetness of the reindeer shod, Immeasurable wilds I trod, Till after sultry deserts past On Cairo's plains I stood at last, And look'd around, a level track Gave to my glance an answer back Tombs of the mighty, are ye hid ? Each everlasting Pyramid ! Tombs of the mighty, where are y< Moulder'd into mortality, * VISION. 141 Things which arc not, a shadowy dream, Like to some tale's departed theme, Or forms of beauty dwelt upon, Or music's scarce rememher'd tone, Or childhood's parted hours of glee, Tombs of the mighty, such are ye ! VIII. T look'd up to the burning sun, Which wont his daily course to run, But he was fix'd, a lamp in heav'n, For ever and for ever triv'n, Firm in his place, compell'd to stay, Shedding a bright perpetual day On ev'ry island, sea, and shore, Till time itself shall be no more. IX. " Nought then is left unchanged" I cried, The words in silence faintly died ; But, oh ! not thus, the ocean plain Is still as erst, upon the main, 1 [•> i VISION. Urg'd by sonic pow'r, unseen, unknown. T saiPd beneath the torrid zone, To various realms and climes I came, And hope reviv'd, 'twas all the same : A voice came by upon the blast, Tt enter'd in my soul, Tt bid me o'er the waters haste, And seek the arctic pole : Obedient to the high behest, T spurn'd the surge's gath'ring crest. And fann'd by breezes, ocean-tost, Attain'd the very realm of frost, And reach'd the ice-bound northern sea. Where winter reign'd continually : ft was not thus, nought met my view Save the wide ocean's depths of blue, There were no icebergs rear'd on high, Like mountains towering 1o the sky, No glitt'ring hills, congeal'd by cold, But still and deep the waters roll'd. Where huge chaotic masses pil'd, In heap'd confusion, vast and wild, The crash of elements, the jar Of warring worlds, were dearer far ; They would at least have been of earth, Co-eval with mine hour of birth. \ VISION. M-'i X. Despair and darkness, gath'ring gloom, A frightful yearning- for the tomb, These were the lightest thoughts which came, In tenfold horror, o'er my frame, Hope from my bosom wing'd her flight, And left behind a with'ring blight, The utmost frenzy of despair Came to my heart, and rested there : But years roll'd on until in vain I strove to count their lengthen'd chain, The world grew old, and, day by day, Some portion of it wan'd away ; Some fragment, falling from it's station, Crumbl'd into annihilation; Thick darkness on the mountains huno- Whence rolling clouds of vapour sprung, From fires within their depths, unheard. Unseen, the smoke on ether eurl'd, As waiting but the signal word To burst, in ruin, on the world. The signal came, devouring fire Lighted this globe's funereal pyre, In awful blaze from shore to shore The conflagration spread. Ill A VISION. With volum'd flame, and ocean roar, To lay creation with the dead, The forests blaz'd, the mountains glow'd, The melting hills in lava flow'd : Still swell'd the flame ! The sea fled back, And gave to view it's mighty track. Depths from the earliest times conceal'd, Were now to open sight reveal'd, And gave to life and earth again The bodies of it's myriads slain; They who had fallen 'mid the rage, When warring fleets in strife engage, And they whose fragile barks oppos'd, As chafF the gale, unbridl'd storms, O'er whom th' abyss of ocean clos'd, And veil'd their hapless forms, In countless numbers, rank on rank, Gather'd in armies on the bank. XT. And, lo ! a trumpet's solemn sound, Which shook creation's utmost bound ! The flame wax'd fiercer at that cry, Ami uav'd it's blood-red flag on high, A VISION. 145 Then o'er me came a sense of rest, Oblivion grew within my breast, My mem'ry and my sense were gone, 1 felt not, mov'd not, gave no tone, Appearing as devoid of breath, In all the luxury of death. XII. A change upon me, feeling cam? Again across my tortur'd frame; I was alone, I knew not where, A feather sway'd upon the air; I was a speck, an essence left, Of all mortality bereft, And wander'd in a pathless void Where erst the universe had stood, Which by Almighty pow'r destroy'd, Lay whelm'd beneath a sea of blood, And where of old had been it's place There was a vast unbounded space, Which had no tenant saving me, An atom in immensity : A diadem my brow had on, And darkness was my regal throne, i. 146 A VISION. My territory, measureless — The realm of utler loneliness — Such my dominion, for a slave, I rul'd the silence of the grave. XITT. Not long my strain'd and aching brain The vast idea could contain, The very grandeur of my dream — The scope of such unbounded theme — Upon it's long duration broke, The vision fled, — and I awoke. 147 THE TWIN SISTERS. Two rose-buds grew upon a single stem, Wet with the varied dew of April show'rs, Each deck'd with crimson hue, a ruby gem, The pride and glory of surrounding bow'rs ; Budding, then bursting, as advancing hours Matur'd the fruitful promise of the spring, At length full grown, two rich luxuriant flow'rs, The butterfly swept past, on sapphire wing, To pay due homage to their early blossoming. l2 148 THE TWIN SISTERS. TT. Together grew they, flourish'd, fair and bright, Perfuming with their breath the morning ray, Together faded when approaching night Swept, with keen frost, the early prize away, Their leaves around in silent ruin lay, Beauteous in death, and fragrant, but so chill ! There were two lovely sisters, fair as they, Which grew together with as mutual will, But not so early cropt, for they are blooming still TTT. Together nurs'd in infancy, and led By gentle steps thro' childhood's flow'ry way, Till female loveliness profusely shed On their young features an etherial ray Of woman's angel beauty, day by day, Some soft and spiritual expression threw A robe of mildness o'er their forms of clay, And as more lovrly, so more fond they grew, Expand in;; in affection to each other's view. rm: TWIN SISTERS. 149 IV. Orphans are they, for those who gave them birth, Honoured, belov'd, and Cull of years, are gone, Their mortal portions to congenial earth, Their deathless spirits to a heav'nly throne, And these are left upon this earth — alone, But, oh ! not desolate — a sacred tie, OC deeper pow'r than erst their souls had known, Hath bound their bosoms' mutual sympathy With chords of holy love, tho' viewless to the eye. And each is fair as Seraphs, which, from high, Look down to guide our erring steps aright, And bear the immortal soul beyond the sky, On wings of gladness, harmony, and light ; Constant are they as doves, whose evening flight Carries them homeward, each unto her mate, So these young twins, by morn, by noon, and night, With social converse cheer their lonely state, In sweet communion. — No, they are not desolate ! 150 THE TWIN SISTERS. VI. Young buds of beauty, blossoms of a clime By far more holy than this world below, Yet sent in mercy here, a moment's time, Our grosser fancies to reprove, and show What man should be, how stainless.; like the flow Of crystal rivers, in their limpid swell ; May never suff'ring, agony, or woe, Within those joyous hearts a moment dwell, Twin buds of youth and beauty, forms of light, farewell ! 151 ON A YOUNG MOTHER, WATCHING HER SLEEPING INFANT. A mother knelt beside the bed Wherein her first-born lay, And distant tar her fancy sped Thro' future years away ; She dream' d of bliss for him who slept In infant weakness there, And often o'er his couch she wept, And often breath'd a pray'r. Oh ! how can man, whose earliest years Were hallow'd by a mother's tears, Plunge into guilt, and rend the breast Whereon he took his childish rest. 152 Before he step aside from truth, A moment should he pause To think of her who train'd his youth In virtue's holier cause, Whose best delight it was to teach Religion's peaceful ways, To guide the infant's lisping speech To themes of sacred praise ; Who hung upon each budding thought, And, in maternal kindness, sought, With efforts of unwearied love, To raise the youthful soul above. So would he shun with eager haste One step in guilt's career, If for an instant mem'ry cast A glance on things so dear; There is not, and there cannot be A heart in crime so deep, But at such thought would backward flee, And turn aside, and weep : Such feelings have uncounted force To wake the spirit to remorse, As torrents to the ocean roll, So rush they o'er the conscious soul. 15.} Bui nought of this the mother thought, While bending o'er her boy ; Her bosom's youthful spring was fraught With thankfulness and joy ; Full often would she start to catch Ev'n from his sleep a tone, Then smilingly resume to watch ' Her beautiful, her own,' Within whose fair and rosy face Were childhood's joy, and beauty's grace, Whose sever'd lips appear'd to frame, Tho' word was not, a parent's name. Beautiful in his calm delight, And moveless as the sea, Beneath a summer's smiling night, When, silently as he, It's waves are resting on the shore, As peaceful and as calm, And heav'n's blue concave arching o'er, Breathes on the landscape balm ; While not a breeze is there to sweep The surface of the tranquil deep ; Such is that babe, — the azure sky Is as the mother watching by. [54 There are. who turn from such a theme With coldness and contempt, Who think these fancies are a dream, By visionaries dreamt ; Who, as they never were aware What pleasure springs from hence, From shielding- by a mother's care An infant's innocence, Reject the joys of richest worth Which heav'n in mercy lent to earth, And count as nothing ev'ry tie Which ought to hind their sympathy. And is it nothing, then, — the glance Of childhood's speaking eye, The all imperfect utterance Of infant piety ; The docile mind, which dwells upon Each lesson that it hears, Whose joy is in a mother's tone, Whose grief is in her tears ? Oh yes ! and there are many still Whose breasts, responsive to the thrill Of female love, can answering tell These early fruits to rapture swell. 155 Then still, young mother! for awhile Outwatch the lonely night, And still the anxious hours beguile With visions pure and bright: Still hang upon his dreamless sleep, His form in slumber laid, And never be thy lot to weep Affection ill repaid; So may he grow in youthful prime That thou may'st ever bless the time When, on the shades of midnight giv'n, The parent's pray'r arose to heav'n. 156 TH K DKLlKiK. There is a book within whose sacred page The records lie of many a vanish'd age, Whose words are truth, and on whose ev'ry line Appears the seal of majesty divine ; Whose theme is all of thee, Eternal God ! Thy works of love, or thine avenging - rod. Oh ! thou, who rear'd creation's lofty span, Who built this globe, and peopl'd it with man, Whose bounteous goodness yielded ev'ry grace, And stamp'd thine awful image on his face ; Who yet, for sin, for mercy oft' abus'd, For love derided, and for gifts misus'd, Awoke in ire, and rob'd in lightnings came To sweep away from earth it's guilty shame ; — THE DELUGE. 157 Humbly of thee, Almighty Pow'r ! J ask One spark divine to guide me in my task, To tell how, in that book of olden years, The stirring tale of heav'nly wrath appears, Bright with supernal fire, and vivid gleam, Still casting far, thro' time's encroaching stream, A solemn warning glare, a beacon light, To guide the soul in error's darksome night : Oh ! fill my spirit with unwonted fire, And bid my hand attempt the sacred lyre, Not now, as erst, howe'er unskill'd, to sing The lofty daring of Seraphic wing, But wilder strains attempt, with stern essay, And heav'nly vengeance be the dreadful lay, II. Far in the regions of primeval time, Shrouded by mists and majesty sublime, There was a mission then, a message giv'n To form one wat'ry waste beneath the heav'n ; The lofty ruler of the universe Issued in wrath the dread, the solemn curse, 'Gainst those who dar'd his spirit to annoy, "Go forth ye whelming waters, and destroy!" They heard the voice, and, as a war-steed sweeps Across the plain of battle, so their deeps 15S THE DELUCJK. Swept o'er the surface of the globe, and gar< Death to ' the young, the beautiful, and brave :' Deep call'd on deep, and, hasten'd by the blast, Wave upon wave came swiftly rolling past, Red lightnings shot around with awful glare, And peal on peal of thunder rent the air : The first day fleeted by, th' astonish'd sun, His course of daily duty being run, Sank to repose, and darkness lowering sped It's gloomy curtain on the world 1o shed : The cries, the cries, the shrieks of wild despair, Swell on the gale, and echo on the air, The howls, the howls of frenzy, and the gush Of ocean-waves, the deluge, and the rush Of headlong tempests thro' the lonely night, Fill the astounded hours with wild affright : Still time rolls on, — still, borne upon his wings, Morn o'er the sky again, tho' dimly, springs, The early dawn is breaking on the air, But, oh ! what sad approach of day is there ; Silence and solitude — each mountain top In one unbounded ruin swallow'd up, Death and the grave — for earth beholds no more A human dweller, or a single shore, But one wide ocean rolls upon the ball. Consumer, tyrant, ruler, over all ! THE DELUGE. 1">«) III. Behold ! behold ! an object far away, Like an exhausted bird, whose pinions play Along th' horizon, seeking where to rest Her weary wing, and plume her drooping cresl ; Nearer it comes, and nearer — drifting by' — Borne on the foaming billows to the sky, Haughtily resting on it's liquid throne, Whose waves, obsequious, waft the vessel on, — Still nearing to the view, a mighty bark, Shrine of protection, heav'n's own work, the ark, Destin'd the sacred spark of life to bear Thro' scenes of peril, horror, and despair, Which thus preserv'd, and guarded from the death. Inflicted on all else of mortal breath, Earth's cheerless bosom shall again restore .To warmth and animation as before. IV. Full many a day the gallant vessel pass'd Swiftly, heav'n-guided, o'er the rolling waste Or, hov'ring for awhile, becalm'd she stood Destruction's ruler, monarch of the flood. And queen of desolation, where no eye Beheld her state, no voice with festal cry l()l> THE DELUGE. Hail'd her approach, bvit silence, deep and drear, Mingl'd with shades of night and shapes of fear, Hunir on the srale, which moan'd not on it's way, There were no sins to weep, no human day For which creation's voice, with solemn wail, Should fling- it's murmurs on the lonely gale ; Annihilation's pow'r had stretch'd his arm, In prompt obedience to th' eternal will, And earth was silent, desolate, and calm, God rode upon the waters — all was still! The sun withheld his beams, he could not brook Upon the world, the ruin'd world, to look, The silver moon, and ev'ry twinkling star Shrank from encount'ring the tempestuous war, Darkness with death, co.eval, reign'd abroad, And havoc mark'd the pathway of the Lord. TiOng time nor sun, nor moon, nor stars, appear, To gild with light the sad revolving year, And all but everlasting death is cast On the embosom'd earth, and rolling waste : Not always thus ! By slow and sure degrees The mighty waters shrink to humbler seas, The gloomy darkness slowly melts away No more from heav'n the arrowy tempests play, THE DELUG1 lb'l Peak after peak uprears it's lofty head — A giant issuing from liis wat'ry bed — The growing- earth more clear to view is seen Clad in it's mantle of reviving green, The sun again affords a genial glow, And springs in heav'n the richly-tinted bow, The cov'nant of the Lord, who saith aloud, " Behold ! I place my symbol in the cloud, " In sign of peace, and never from this day " Till heav'n, and earth, and ocean, pass away, " Shall my vindictive messenger — the wave — " Envelope all things in one common grave." Thus stands the record of th' Almighty will, The bow in heav'n attests the promise still, Emblem and type of thee, Thou Pow'r divine ! Whose works of mercy all conspicuous shine : Ages have past away on fairy wing, And unborn ages yet to life shall spring, They who exist therein shall view with fear The raging storm it's awful forehead rear, And turn to look if, brightly spread on high, The rainbow's mingling tints adorn the sky ; Then, with exulting voice, shall cry, " behold ! " The flag of God, along the heav'n, unrolPd, " His word is faithful still, and still the same, ' Unehang'd and changeless, praise his glorious name !" M 162 UATTLE. A moment more the hollow -round Shall rock beneath the courser's bound, A moment more the smoke shall veil Yon azure sky with ' vapours pale,' And warrior-hosts shall meet in strife To pay for mastery with life; Each dauntless hand is on the rein, And expectation thrills to pain ; The word is giv'n— a moment more Shall ris.' the battle's mino-lino- roar. BATTLK. 163 I lurk to the trumpet's brazen note! Rolling, how wildly ! on the air, See how the loosen'd banners float, The sheathless swords, how bright they glare ! Ten thousand sabres flash at large, Whose owners hasten to the charge, Ten thousand steeds, as fleet as light, Bear the glad riders to the fight ; On to the field, with spear and shield, The cannon's signal boom hath peal'd. On to the field ! The battle crj Reverberates along the sky, Hosts pour on hosts, they meet, they reel, They fall, beneath the fire and steel ; The combat thickens — death is there, Rides on the gale, and wings the air, Wrapt in his own dark banner's fold, The sulphur-smoke, he sits inroll'd, And gluts his eye, and palls his sense With horror's dread magni licence. M 2 it; I battll;. On to the field ! By night and day What spirit seeks not the melee? Where prowess reigns with eagle eye, And laurel-cinetur'd victory, AVhere glory aims the soldier's spear, And smiles on valour's proud career, Where armies meeting on the field Charge front to front, and shield to shield ; Time lingers till we join the fray. On to the fight — away, away ! But, oh ! there are warm hearts and Inn Which, 'ere the combat's rage is o'er, Bath'd in their blood's ensanguin'd line. Shall cease to beat for evermore : No matter,— on their hallow'd grave, hi mem'ry of the parted brave, The rifle's vivid peal shall Hash, It's echoing boom responsive crash. And sad survivors mourn for those Who sink in glory to repose. BATTLK. 165 Yea, rather, it is sweet to rest Amid the host of noble dead, With scars implanted on each breast, That in the cause of freedom bled ; The war-cloak for a pall and shroud, The bugles wailing- shrill and loud, The final glance, the parting tear By comrades shed upon the bier, And many a bright eye's holy rain Shall fall, like dew, upon the slain. For e'en the widow's, orphan's sigh, The parent's, sister's tearful eye, Howe'er they speak the heart's distress, Tell not of utter bitterness ; There is a proudly conscious thought Swells in the mourner's aching breast, Sweet to the soul, tho' dearly bought, Which names the hero in his rest Ev'n as it were a martyr dead, His country needed, he hath bled, Her deepest claims are nobly met, And we may mourn, but not regret. Kifi ST A XZAs Xo\i i^ the hour of calmness and repose, The hour of stillness, languor, and delight, Soft twilight, 'ore the mellow evening close Day's lofty splendours, fading into night; Far in the western sky the sloping rays Fall, with their sunset brilliance, on the world, And many a cloud of purple lustre plays Along the sky, and golden vapours, curl'd Around the mountains, their hoar summits lave With floods of light, still rolling wave on wave. STANZAS. 167 As eve draws on a coronet of gems Circles the queen of heav'n, with richer state Than all the pomp of earthly diadems, On brows which bend beneath their gorgeous weight : She, mild Diana, gentle goddess, roves, Lit with star-torches, thro' the sapphire plain, Seeking the lost Endymion of her loves, For aye ador'd, and still for aye in vain, While, as hath been thro' lapse of countless years, Attends her path the music of the spheres. Celestial melody ! May we not deem That myriad angels tune their holy hymn ? Which steals upon the senses as a dream, At close of day, when shadows, wild and dim, Attract our wond'ring eyes, which turn to gaze, Ev'n from the innate longings of the breast, Tho' sight is barrM by twilight's gath'ring haze, And those we deem the voices of the blest Are but a haunting vision, still we long To mount on high, and join their glorious throng. 168 ' THE CAMPBELLS ARE COMING.' WRITTEN UPON HEARING A REGIMENTAL BAND PLAY I'll!: ABOVE AIR. ' The Campbells are coming.' The voice of delight, The gathering of thousands to gaze on the sight, The glancing of tartans, the pibroch's loud wail, The war-cry of Albyn, the voice of the Gael ! 1 The Campbells are coming-.' In concord they move, Their banners are waving around us in love, The pibroch is sounding the slogan afar, And proudly each heart greets the signal of war. The Campbells are coming.' But not as of old, N\ lien the fire-cross, far blazing, along the hills roll'd, When the shout of Mac Cullum affrighted the air, As the vassals, like tigers, arose from their lair. rni: c \ m iM'.nr.i.s are coming. 1<>!) • The Campbells are coming." Not as in past years. When the noise of their muster was signal for tears, When the cheek of the bravest with terror grew pale \-^ the tramp of their warriors tame loud on the '■ale. ' The Campbells are coming.' In friendship they come, Each heart be their temple, each bosom their home ; Firm friends to the right, but a scourge to the foe, As dreadful as lions — as generous too. ■ The Campbells are coming.' Their chieftain is there, With the heron's dark feather entwin'd in his hair, The plume of the eagle still waves as his crest, But the feud and the foray have sunken to rest. ' The Campbell is coming.' Oh ! still may he be A staff of support, and a watchword to thee, Fair Scotia ! The land of the noble and brave, The birth-place of heroes, their cradle, and grave. 170 THE CAMPBELLS \RE COMING. ' The Campbell is coming.' And still may he live As long as this world has a pleasure to give, Nor fall till infirmities weigh on his breast, And the blessings of thousands go with him to rest. 171 THE POET. COMPANION or THE SOUL'S LliASl EARTHLY HOUR. I.. ]'.. L I. Genius within the bosom is like weeds Within a garden, whose neglected soil, Fertile, tho' cultureless, is strown with seeds Of wildling plants, which ask nor care nor toil To bid them flourish ; serpent-like they coil Around the choicer flow'rs, with fatal aim: Too oft' is genius known the heart to spoil, All better things are sacrific'd to fame, And what should be man's glory is his shame. 172 TIIK POET. II. Delights it hath, indeed, and hopes, which thrill Deeper, far deeper, than more vulgar joys, But from their very depth ariseth ill, Which with a sine and speedy hand destroys; The sweetest pleasure but the soonest cloys, Leaviner an irksome weariness behind ; The lyre's seductive chords are poison'd toj s, Whose deadly venom preys upon the mind, Which is more delicate the more refin'd. III. Thus with the poet ! In his happiest mood He looks around in vain for sympathy ; Tho' crowds are near he stands in solitude, For who can know his aspirations high ? Blossoms of fragrance, born to fade and die ! As one by one they wither in the blast Of chill neglect, he heaves a bitter sigh, The hectic on his cheek spreads deep and last, Existence snaps in twain, and all is past. I UK POET. 17:; IV. But rests there nought beyond ? An early tomb ! Perchance some stranger, pausing on his lay, Asks of his lot : alas ! the ocean-foam, The air-blown bubble, have a longer day ; All he hath done of good is past away. Even as on the gale the midnight chime, Or as the twilight shadows, lone and grey, So hath their mem'ry vanish'd, saving crime He hath no record on the page of time. And crime be sure there hath been, for the soul From whence such high and tow'ring thoughts arise, Is all too masterless to bear control ; On wings of eagle grandeur forth it flies, And in the burst of those fierce energies Curbs not it's actions with a needful rein, And thus the life is tracM in sombre dyes, A speck of light amid a sea of stain, Which tears may strive to cleanse, but all in vain. 174 I If i: POET. VI. \ixl yel there will be poets, while one breasl Is lit, than others, with a brighter beam, Or is with passions more intense imprest, That man will offer incense up to fame, Will rear an altar, and will light a flame, Albeit to consume him : hope mounts high Within such spirits, seeking for a name, On giddy wing, around the lure they fly, Like moths around the taper, lill they die. //. BeUerby, Printer, Gazette Office, York. UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY Los Angeles This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. Form L9-50m-7,'54 (5990)444 TOE LIBRARY ENWEE.;: : AUFQRNM LOS ANGELES PR Sketches of ban- uc SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 3991 P3S6 dit life AA 000 379 947 5 PR 3991 P3S6