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 THE 
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 
 
 Bt SAMUEL SALKELD, Oitickr op E- 
 
 LLANGOLLEN. 
 
 "Oh, 'tis sweet to retire from the world and its wiles, 
 "And renounce all life's idle inducements to roam, 
 
 "To fly from its tumults, to court not its smiles, 
 "And centre our joys in the circle at Homb." 
 
 Shrewsbury : 
 
 rRlKTED FOR THE AUTHOR, BY J. WaTTON, ChrONICLE-OFFICK 
 AND PUBLISHKD 
 
 ix London by Whittakkr, Treacher, and ( 
 Ave Maria-lank.
 
 te*/M 
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES 
 
 FREDERIC THOMAS BLANCHARD 
 ENDOWMENT FUND
 
 THE 
 
 PLEASURES OF HOME ; 
 
 AND OTHER POEMS.
 
 THE 
 
 PLEASURES OF HOME, 
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 
 
 By SAMUEL SALKELD, 
 
 Officer of Excise, Llangollen. 
 
 SHREWSBURY : 
 
 Printed roR the Author, by J. Watton, Chronicle-office ; 
 
 Published in London 
 
 by Whittaker, Treacher, and Co.; and sold 
 
 by all Booksellers.
 
 PR 
 367/ 
 
 S/67p 
 
 DEDICATION. 
 
 TO THE HONOURABLE 
 
 SIR WATKIN WILLIAMS WYNN, 
 BARONET, M.P. 
 
 Lord Lieutenant and Custos Rotulorum of the County of Denbigh. 
 
 Sir, 
 
 J. O you, who have so kindly permitted me to 
 make use of your name in my dedication, I would 
 now offer my most grateful acknowledgments, 
 trusting, with becoming deference, that the senti- 
 ments blended with the following pages may be 
 deemed not unworthy of it. 
 
 It is at all times a gratifying circumstance, while 
 the sword is in its scabbard, to behold" the rising 
 youth of a nation strong in the pursuit of useful 
 science and literature, at the same time cultivating 
 
 765762
 
 VI. DEDICATION. 
 
 in the lap of domestic enjoyment the smiling arts 
 of peace, benevolence, and industry ; but wider, 
 much wider, Sir, are those pleasurable feelings 
 disseminated when we see the humbler walks of 
 society cherished with the bright rays of encourage- 
 ment from the portals of high station and illustrious 
 places. 
 
 It is from this feeling, emanating from a Gros- 
 venor and a Devonshire, that we are indebted as 
 a nation for the ornamental and immortal names 
 of a Gifford and a Kirk White. It is from this 
 feeling among her nobles that the kindling spirit 
 of the Principality now glows with such literary 
 ardour, and that the blue of her Cymrodorian sky 
 sparkles with so many young and interesting 
 spanglets. 
 
 That your Honour may long live to adorn the 
 Institutions of Cambria, formed for the nurture of 
 genius, and to receive the blessings of a grateful 
 Cymry, is the fervant prayer of 
 
 Your Honour's most obliged 
 
 Humble and obedient Servant, 
 
 SAMUEL SALKELD.
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 A LTHOUGH some of the poems constituting this 
 work have already received the stamp of public 
 approbation, it is, I confess, with considerable 
 diffidence that I thus venture to appear before the 
 public in the character of an author ; and this feel- 
 ing is much augmented when I consider how very- 
 few have appeared with advantage in that character 
 whose time has not been solely devoted to it : 
 and more especially when I look at my own 
 individual case, where the opportunities for study 
 and research have principally been snatched while 
 traversing the beautiful vallies on the borders of 
 Shropshire on the one hand, or while scaling the 
 mountains of Cambria on the other. 
 
 It must be gratifying to the feelings of every 
 individual, of whatever profession, to meet with 
 the approving smile of the discriminating few; 
 this has hitherto been my fortunate, though perhaps 
 undeserved, portion; and, united with the illustri- 
 ous patronage which has so unexpectedly dawned 
 upon me, must not only operate as a potent stimulus 
 to grateful reflection, but as a strong incentive to 
 present improvement and future exertion.
 
 Vlll. PREFACE. 
 
 With regard to the time chosen for publication, 
 the present appears to be highly favourable for a 
 production of this description now that the public 
 mind is fast settling down from a condition of high 
 excitement to its wonted state of social intercourse 
 and domestic repose, and, at this particular period, 
 when the Laureats of the day have descended as it 
 were the brow of Parnassus, and betaken them- 
 selves to the more prolific regions of history and 
 biography : It is when the monarchs of the river 
 retire into the deeps, that the "smaller fry" may 
 venture forth with safety, and disport themselves 
 in the streams. 
 
 I now present my little volume to the public, 
 trusting with respectful confidence that it will be 
 received as the mineral is received from the miner 
 by the hand of the smelter, whose calculating view 
 is to extract the richer and purer parts for his more 
 immediate and remunerating purposes, and not to 
 cast aside even the dross itself while the remotest 
 prospect remaineth of reducing it to the designs of 
 utilitv.
 
 SUBSCRIBERS' NAMES. 
 
 Her Royal Highness theDuchess of Kent (12copies) . 
 Her Royal Highness the Princess Victoria (12 
 
 copies) . 
 The Right Hon. the Lord Chancellor (6 copies). 
 His Excellency the Marquis of Anglesea (10 copies). 
 Sir Watkin Williams Wynne, Bart. M.P. (10 copies). 
 The Right Hon. Lord Viscount Clive (4 copies). 
 James Brougham, Esq., M.P. (6 copies.) 
 R. A. Slaney, Esq., M.P. (4 copies). 
 R. M. Biddulph, Esq., M.P. (4 copies). 
 
 Asterley, John, Esq., Pentre. 
 
 Allen, J. Esq., Wern frwd. 
 
 Andrews, Miss, Plas newydd. 
 
 Allen, Mr., Rheuabon. 
 
 Atkinson, Mr. B., Kendal. 
 
 Abbat, Mr. William, Ditto. 
 
 Andrew, Mr. Thomas, Ditto. 
 
 Ashley, Mr. Robert, Bunbury. 
 
 Bickerstaff", Rev. R., St. Martin's. 
 
 Briscoe, Rev. Mr., Llangollen. 
 
 Broughton, John, Esq., Llan-y-mynech (2 copies). 
 
 Broughton, Richard, Esq., Ditto. (2 copies). 
 
 Baugh, Mr. R., Ditto. 
 
 Burroughs, Mrs., Knockin. 
 
 Bromley, Mrs. 
 
 Benyon, E., Esq., Surgeon. 
 
 Birch, Mr. James, Manchester. 
 
 Bridden, Mr., Chirk.
 
 X. SUBSCRIBERS NAMES. 
 
 Brellesford, Mr. J., Llangollen. 
 
 Broster, , Esq., Rheuabon. 
 
 Bolas, W., Esq., Oswestry. 
 
 Best, Mr. Thomas, Kendal. 
 
 Banks, J., Esq., Ditto. 
 
 Barker, Mr. J. G., Ditto. 
 
 Bowman, Mr. Thomas, Ditto. 
 
 Bateman, Mr. William, Ditto. 
 
 Banks, Mr. John, Ditto. 
 
 Bell, Mr. John, Ditto. 
 
 Brockelbank, Mr. Thomas, Ditto. 
 
 Box, Mr. Josiah, Ditto. 
 
 Branthwaite, Mr. M., Ditto. 
 
 Burton, Miss 
 
 Crewdson, W. D., Esq., Kendal. 
 
 Clubb, Mr. John, Ruthin. 
 
 Cunnah, Mr., Rheuabon. 
 
 Cole, Mr. Samuel, Liverpool. 
 
 Coward, Mr. John, Llangollen. 
 
 Carr, Mr. Henry, Kendal. 
 
 Crosthevaite, Mr. W., Ditto. 
 
 Currie, Mr. F., Ditto. 
 
 Cooper, Mr. E., Llangollen. 
 
 Clement, Mr. W. J., Surgeon, Shrewsbury. 
 
 Dawson, R., Esq., Llangollen. 
 
 Dawson, C, Esq., Ditto. 
 
 Dovaston, J. F. M., Esq., Felton. 
 
 Dovaston, M., Esq., Surgeon. 
 
 Dovaston, Mr. M., Llandrinio. 
 
 Davies, Mr., Schoolmaster, Llanyblodwyll. 
 
 Davies, Mr. E., Llangollen. 
 
 Davies, Mr. B. W., Ditto. 
 
 Davies, Miss Ann, Ditto. 
 
 Downes, Mrs., Oswestry. 
 
 Davies, J., Esq., Maesbury. 
 
 Davies, Mr. J., Saddler, Oswestrv.
 
 SUBSCRIBERS NAMES. XI. 
 
 Davies, Mr. J., Aqueduct. 
 
 Dodge, , Esq., Solicitor, Liverpool. 
 
 Downes, Mr., Jun. 
 
 Dawson, Mr. John, Kendal. 
 
 Dawson, Mr. John, Ditto. 
 
 Davies, Mr. James, Cefn. 
 
 Davies, Mrs., Rheuabon. 
 
 Davies, Mr., Surgeon, Ditto. 
 
 Evans, J., Esq., M. D., Llwyn-y-groes (4 copies) 
 
 Eyton, Rev. R., Llangollen (2 copies). 
 
 Eyton, Mr. J., Liverpool. 
 
 Ellis, Rev. John Thomas Augustus 
 
 Edgeworth, J., Esq., Solicitor, Wrexham. 
 
 Edwards, Mr. Thomas, Llangollen. 
 
 Evans, Master David, Sweeney. 
 
 Edwards, Miss, Parkgate. 
 
 Evans, Mr., Rheuabon. 
 
 Edwards, Mr. William, Rhos-y-medre. 
 
 Edwards, Mr., Cross-street, Chirk. 
 
 Evans, Mr., Queen's head, Cefn. 
 
 Evans, Mr. Henry 
 
 Edwards, Mr. E., Guage. 
 
 Edwards, Mr. R., Queen's head, Oswestry. 
 
 Evans, T., Esq., Sweeney. 
 
 Evans, T., Esq., Solicitor, Denbigh. 
 
 Edwards, Mr., junior, Queen's head, Oswestrv. 
 
 Eglin, Mr. H. 
 
 Frank, J., Esq., Massbury Hall (2 copies). 
 
 Frank, J., Esq., Felton. 
 
 Frank, E., Esq., Felton. 
 
 Frank, Miss Hannah, Dairy. 
 
 Frank, Miss Ann, Ditto. 
 
 Faulder, Miss M., Oswestry. 
 
 Faulder, Mr. William, Bridgenorth. 
 
 Furnival, Mr. E., Llan-y-mynech. 
 
 Fisher, Mr. T., Kendal.
 
 Xll. SUBSCRIBERS NAMES. 
 
 Field, Mr. T., Supervisor of Excise, Kendal, 
 
 Fawcett, Mr. James, Kendal. 
 
 Greenhow, James, Esq., Ditto. 
 
 Greenhow, Edward, Esq., Ditto. 
 
 Griffiths, Mr. John, Knockin. 
 
 Griffiths, Mr. William, senior, Llansantfraid. 
 
 Griffiths, Mr. John, Llan-y-mynech. 
 
 Griffiths, Mr. William, junior, Llansantfraid. 
 
 Griffiths, Mr. Richard, Ruyton. 
 
 Griffiths, Mr. R., Grocer, Llangollen. 
 
 Griffiths, Mr., Rhos-y-medre. 
 
 Green, Mr. J., Officer of Excise, Shrewsbury. 
 
 Hudson, Rev. J., Kendal (2 copies). 
 
 Hickman, Rev. H., Bill Hall, Stourbridge (2 
 
 copies) . 
 Harrison, Mr. John, Kendal. 
 Harker, Mr. James, Ditto. 
 Hartley, Mr. F., Ditto. 
 
 Harling, Mr. Richard, Ditto. 
 Hodgson, Mr. W. B., Ditto. 
 Howell, Mr. John, senior, Trefonon. 
 Hughes, C., Esq., solicitor, Ellesmere (2 copies). 
 Hughes, Edward, Esq., Pentre'r felin. 
 Hughes, Mr., surveyor, Gybowen. 
 Hughes, Mr. John, Oswestry. 
 Hughes, H., Esq., Ditto, 
 Holland, William, Esq. 
 Hughes, Mrs., Duke, Cefn. 
 Hughes, Mr. Richard, builder, Oswestry. 
 Hayward, J., Esq., solicitor, Oswestry (2 copies). 
 Harrison, Mrs., grocer, Ditto. 
 Jones, J., Esq., Brook-street, Oswestry. 
 Jones, Richard, Esq., Dinbren Hall. 
 Jebb, R., Esq., Chirk. 
 
 Jones, R., Esq. solicitor, Llangollen (2 copies). 
 Jones, Mr. T., Knockin.
 
 SUBSCRIBERS NAMES. Xlll. 
 
 Johnson, Mr. Thomas, Chirk. 
 Jones, Mr. John, Draper, Llangollen. 
 Jones, Miss, Royal Hotel, Ditto. 
 Johnson, Mr. F., Pont-y-blew. 
 Jones, Mr. John, Llangollen. 
 Jones, Mr., Abbey. 
 Jones, Mr. Hugh, Llangollen. 
 Jones, Mr. Robert, Rheuabon. 
 Jones, Mr., Reeve. 
 Jones, Mr., Machine, Oswestry. 
 Jones, Mr. Evan, Maltster. 
 Jones, Mr., smith, Chirk. 
 Jones, Mr. Thomas, Llanvorda Mill. 
 Jones, Mr., auctioneer, Llangollen. 
 Jackson, Mr., Officer of Excise, Shrewsbury. 
 Johnson, Mr. P., Rhos-y-medre. 
 Jones, R. H., Esq., Glan Conway. 
 James, Mr. R., Kendal. 
 Kemp, Mr., Supervisor of Excise, Oswestry. 
 Kempster, William, Esq., Virniew Bank. 
 Kidd, Mr. William, Kendal. 
 Knowles, Mr. Matthew, Ditto. 
 Luxmore, Rev. J., Llan-y-mynech (2 copies). 
 Llewelyn, Christopher, Esq., Ditto (2 copies). 
 Lloyd, Godfrey, Esq., Llangollen. 
 Lough, Mrs., Kendal. 
 
 Lonsdale, Mr. J., Supervisor of Excise, Wrexham. 
 Langhorn, Mr. Hugh, Kendal. 
 Lucas, Mr., Trever. 
 Lever, Mr., Chirk. 
 Lee, Mr., Rhos-y-medw. 
 Lloyd, Mr. Edward, Maes gwyn. 
 Lewis, Mr. John, Whittington. 
 Lowe, Mr. James, Oswestry. 
 Lloyd, Mr. John, Llan-y-mynech. 
 Lolly, Miss, Plas newydd. 
 6
 
 XIV. - SUBSCRIBERS NAMES. 
 
 Lloyd, Captain, Osbaston. 
 
 Morris, T., Esq., surgeon, Llangollen. 
 
 Morgan, Mr. W., Ditto. 
 
 Morris, Mr. David, Ditto. 
 
 Minshull, Mr., Llandyn. 
 
 Medcalf, Mr. John, Kendal. 
 
 Medcalf, Mr. Edward, Ditto. 
 
 Moser, R., Esq., solicitor, Ditto. 
 
 Mann, Mr. John, Ditto. 
 
 Moreland, Mr. J., Ditto (2 copies). 
 
 Mullard, Mr. John, Ditto. 
 
 Murgatroyd, Mr. R. F., Ditto. 
 
 Matthews, Mr., Brynkinalt. 
 
 Morris, Mr., Ditto. 
 
 M'Donald, Mr., Wynnstay (2 copies). 
 
 Morris, Mr., Llewn-y-kiln. 
 
 Milnes, Mr., Oswestry. 
 
 Morris, Mrs. Margaret, Ditto. 
 
 M'Cartney, Mr., Wrexham. 
 
 Nicholson, Mr. C., Kendal. 
 
 Nixon, Mr. J., Officer of Excise, Denbigh (2 copies), 
 
 Owen, Mr. O., Llangollen. 
 
 Pickering, E., Esq., Cottage. 
 
 Pickering, E., Esq., junior. 
 
 Pickering, Mr. H. 
 
 Payne, T., Esq., Pentre ucha. 
 
 Phillips, Mrs., Hand Hotel, Llangollen. 
 
 Phillips, Miss Jane, Ditto. 
 
 Powell, Mr. William, artist, Oswestry. 
 
 Pugh, Mr. Thomas, Llangollen. 
 
 Phenna, Mr., near Chirk. 
 
 Putterton, Mr. 
 
 Pugh, Mr. J., Officer of Excise, Denbigh. 
 
 Porter, Mr. I., Oswestry (2 copies). 
 
 Powell, J., Esq., Preesgwyn. 
 
 Parry, Mr. J., Officer of Excise.
 
 SUBSCRIBERS NAMES. XV. 
 
 Pennington, J., Esq., Kendal. 
 
 Pymm, Mr. J., Ditto. 
 
 Pennington, James, Esq., solicitor, Ditto. 
 
 Rogers. Mr., Osbaston. 
 
 Ratcliff, Mr., Knockin Hall. 
 
 Rhodes, Mr. William, Officer of Excise. 
 
 Richardson, Mr. John, Manchester. 
 
 Richardson, Miss Agness, Ditto. 
 
 Roberts, Mr., druggist, Llangollen. 
 
 Roberts, Mr. J., Currier, Rheuabon. 
 
 Richards, Mr., schoolmaster, Chirk. 
 
 Roberts, Mr., Inspector, Corwen. 
 
 Roberts, Mr. E., Llangollen. 
 
 Roberts, Mr., surgeon, Rheuabon. 
 
 Robinson, Mr. 
 
 Roberts, Mr. R., Three Tuns, Oswestry, 
 
 Rogers, F., Esq., Oswestry. 
 
 Roberts, Mr., Pont-y-cyswllt. 
 
 Roberts, Mr. Thomas, Cross lanes. 
 
 Rogers, , Esq., solicitor, Oswestry. 
 
 Roberts, Mr., grocer, Ditto. 
 
 Robley, Mr. J., Oswestry. 
 
 Roberts, Mr. John, Sweeny. 
 
 Rogers, J., Esq., Newhall. 
 
 Rowland, J., Esq., Solicitor, Wrexham. 
 
 Richards, J., Esq., Kirkland. 
 
 Rigge, Mr. Isaac, junior, Kendal. 
 
 Richardson, Mr. Thomas, Ditto. 
 
 Reveley, Thomas, Esq., Ditto. 
 
 Ross, Mr. Isaac, Officer of Excise, Ditto. 
 
 Robinson, Mr. Stephen, Ditto. 
 
 Roberts, Mr. J., Cross-street, Oswestry. 
 
 Salter, R., Esq., Oswestry. 
 
 Shuker, F., Esq., Colket Hall. 
 
 Stanton, Mr., watchmaker, Oswestry. 
 
 Swift, Mr., near Chirk.
 
 XVI. SUBSCRIBERS NAMES. 
 
 Smith, Mr., Rheuabon. 
 
 Shapley, Mr., Supervisor of Excise. 
 
 Shirt, Mr., Officer of Excise. 
 
 Summerfield, Mrs., Maesbrook. 
 
 Socket, Mr., Oswestry. 
 
 Steed, Mr. J. O., Officer of Excise, Chester. 
 
 Sampson, Rev. John, Kendal. 
 
 Scaarsbrick, Mr. Thomas, Ditto. 
 
 Stoney, Mr., Ditto. 
 
 Smith, Mr., Leeds. 
 
 Stanton, Mr. R., Oswestry. 
 
 Sniffer, Mr. Thomas, Denbigh. 
 
 Tyrwhitt, Mrs., Nantyr Hall. 
 
 Thompson, Mr. R., Kendal. 
 
 Tebay, Mr. J., Ditto. 
 
 Tannatt, Mr. E., Llan-y-mynech. 
 
 Tannatt, Mr. W., Gravel hill. 
 
 Thomas, Mr. David, Oswestry. 
 
 Vaughan, J. H., Esq., solicitor, Denbigh. 
 
 Wilson, Edward, Esq., Abbot Hall, Kendal. 
 
 Wingfield, Rev. R., Rheuabon (2 copies). 
 
 Whitehurst, Rev. E., Virniew Bank. 
 
 Ward, T., Esq., Collector of Excise, Chester. 
 
 Ward, T., Esq., Black Park. 
 
 Wilson, W., Esq., Chirk. 
 
 Willoughby, S., Esq., Llangollen. 
 
 Watson, Mr. T, Llan-y-mynech. 
 
 Wordsworth, W., Esq., Rydal Mount (2 copies). 
 
 Whitaker, Mr. J., Kendal. 
 
 Webster, Mr. J., Ditto. 
 
 Whitwell, Mr. W. Ditto. 
 
 Wood, Mr., veterinary surgeon, Ditto. 
 
 Wilkinson, Mr. J., Ditto. 
 
 Wilson, Isaac, Esq., solicitor, Ditto. 
 
 Wilson, Mr. John, Ditto. 
 
 Whiteman, Mr. Thomas, Ditto.
 
 SUBSCRIBERS NAMES. XV11. 
 
 Watton, Mr., bookseller, Shrewsbury (4 copies). 
 
 Walne, Mr. Thomas, Kendal. 
 
 Wilson, Mr. William, Netherfield. 
 
 Wilson, Mr., Plas Kynaston. 
 
 Williams, Mr., druggist, Cefn. 
 
 Windsor, Mr. F., Cefn. 
 
 Wright, Mr. John, Ditto. 
 
 Woodcock, W., Esq., Surgeon, Llangollen. 
 
 Wilkiss, Mr., Oswestry. 
 
 Williams, Mr., Officer of Excise (2 copies). 
 
 Wigan, Mr., Rheuabon. 
 
 Wynn, Miss 
 
 Westmacott, H. P., Esq. (2 copies). 
 
 Warren, Mr. John, Oswestry.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 Dedication .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. v 
 
 Preface . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . vii 
 
 Subscribers' names . . . . . . . . . . ix 
 
 THE PLEASURES OF HOME, a Poem. 9 
 
 Notes to tbe Pleasures of Home . . . . . . . . 33 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 The Robber's Hut 43 
 
 Calumny . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 45 
 
 Taste. Written in a Lady's Album . . . . . . . . 47 
 
 The Choice ... . . 49 
 
 Chirk 51 
 
 On hearing a Blackbird sing on the 4th of December, 1826 54 
 
 Elegiac Stanzas, written on the Death of the Author's Wife . . 56 
 
 On the Death of a Sister . . . . . . . . . . 60 
 
 Spring . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 62 
 
 On the Death of the Right Hon. George Canning . . . . 64 
 
 Home . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 64 
 
 On hearing a Redbreast sing in Church during Divine Service 67 
 
 Tears 69
 
 XX. CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE. 
 
 On hearing a Farewell Sermon, by the Rev W- Evans, of 
 Llan-y-mynech, Shropshire . . . . . . . . 71 
 
 Westmorland . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 74 
 
 On reading Sir Walter Scott's description of the eye of Burns 
 the poet . . . . . . . . . . . . 77 
 
 The Cluster of Two . ." 78 
 
 The Withered Rosebud 80 
 
 The Mountain Lovers . . . . . . . . . . . . -81 
 
 Colonial Slavery . .... . . . . . . 82 
 
 The Riots at Bristol, October, 1831 84 
 
 On the Coronation of their Majesties King William 4th and Queen 
 
 Adelade 87 
 
 On the Arrival of their Royal Highnesses the Duchess of Kent 
 and the Princess Victoria in the Principality of North Wales, 
 
 in 1832 90 
 
 The Birthday of the Author's Infant Son . . . . . . 92 
 
 Harvest Home . . . . . . . . . . . . 95 
 
 " Hark-away." 97 
 
 The Steward and Tom of Shambrawern a tale . . . . 99 
 
 Wonders in the Sporting World a tale .. .. ..102
 
 THE 
 
 PLEASURES OF HOME. 
 
 A POEM. 
 
 ' ' Oh, 'tis sweet to retire from the world and its wiles, 
 *' And renounce all life's idle inducements to roam ; 
 
 "To fly from its tumults, to court not its smiles, 
 " And centre our joys in the circle at Home."
 
 THE 
 
 PLEASURES OF HOME. 
 
 Poesy awake, and with thy latent fire, 
 
 The eager ardour of the muse inspire. 
 
 Rich with thy treasures charge her venturous wing, 
 
 As bees are trusted with the sweets of Spring. 
 
 Lo ! wide diffusing with their Campbell's name, 
 
 "Hope's Pleasures" groan beneath their weight of 
 
 fame; 
 
 While with her Rogers, " Memory" hastes to trace 
 
 The glowing beauties of her early place { 
 
 Where every eve and every dawn of light, 
 
 Bring on their gales some whisperings of delight ; 
 
 And where each scene with wonted beauty rife, 
 
 Yields its first pleasures to a well-spent life. 
 
 Oh, Life ! if thus an unexpiring ray ~\ 
 
 Breaks on thy path, then bless the poet's lay, > 
 
 That points its fires, and warms thy transient day.) 
 
 And thou, the genius of that cheering glow, 
 
 Teach every heart its benefits to know; 
 B
 
 10 PLEASURES GF HOME. 
 
 While with that harp, again to rapture strung, 
 Thou wak'st the strains of pleasures yet unsung. 
 Go, child of wealth, if such thy taste may be, 
 Increase the blaze of gorgeous revelry ; 
 Ride with the foremost of the bounding course, 
 Bestud with gold the trappings of thy horse ; 
 Give to the rout thy patronizing aid, 
 Adorn the waltz and sportive gallopade. 
 Pursue the gleam of Pleasure's gilded ray, 
 Be stars and midnight firmaments thy day ; 
 And let the eye of Sol's meridian light 
 Behold thee pillow 'd on the couch of night. 
 
 Such to the world's broad, wondering gaze may shine, 
 But such, I ween, would form no joys of mine. 
 
 Splendour apart, O place me by the cot, 
 And nigh the streams of that heart-drawing spot, 
 Where my day dawn'd, and where my infant feet 
 First ran a mother's anxious arms to meet ; 
 Where romp and frolic, river sports and play, 
 Compos 'd the pastime of my boyish day. 
 Thrice happy theme ! and happier yet to tell, 
 That the young fires of Home's endearing spell, 
 Through a long train of ills, and harrowing pain, 
 Still unextiguish'd as at first remain. 
 E'en thou, who, reinless as the tempest's sweep, 
 Encounterest life's precipitating steep,
 
 PLEASURES OF HOME. 11 
 
 Tearing asunder many a tie of good, 
 
 In Dissipation's overwhelming flood ; 
 
 E'en thou, when wreck'd, and from thy orgies cast, 
 
 Unpitied, spurned, and shivering in the blast, 
 
 (If yet some feeling for a parent's rest 
 
 May start compunction in thy yielding breast,) 
 
 E'en thou, returning to thy home's employ, 
 
 Again may'st smile, again may'st hope for joy. 
 
 Hail, peerless spot ! by industry and love 
 Form'd every spring of social bliss to prove. 
 Here friends shall meet around the cheerful fire, 
 Unmarr'd by pomp, or petulant desire ; 
 While from the fount of unrestrain'd discourse, 
 More genuine wit, more intellectual force, 
 In the brief compass of an evening flows, 
 Than many a haunt, or boasted banquet knows. 
 There, oft in fumes the brilliant thought is born, 
 Blazes awh^e, but sickens with the morn : 
 Here, morning opening placidly, or wild, 
 Sees father, mother, brother, sister, child, 
 In sweet assemblage round the window meet, 
 Her early smile or tempest-rush to greet. 
 Noon marks their joy and ripening concord rise, 
 As the sun strengthens in the mid -day skies, 
 While every hand their willing aids devote, 
 The general weal and interest to promote ; 
 b 2
 
 12 PLEASURES OF HOME. 
 
 Corrected still by that unerring square, 
 A father's counsel and a mother's care. 
 Eve, cloth 'd with beauty from the dazzling rays, 
 And streaking light of Sol's departing blaze, 
 Sees, as he sinks adown the western sky, 
 The day's employment, with its cares, laid by ; 
 Marks the young offspring with their satchels run, 
 High flush 'd with glee, to tell of laurels won, 
 Or breathing quick, nigh terrified, and pale, 
 Recount the wonders of some new-learned tale ; 
 Beholds the mother start the fire-flame bright, 
 Till all around is glittering with its light. 
 The father, strictly mindful of his hour, 
 And the strong impulse of example's power, 
 Seated amid his home's light-hearted mirth, 
 The most entire, the happiest glee on earth, 
 Hears, at her parting, streams of blessings shed 
 On every land, on every human head : 
 While to their Hope, their anthem voices raise 
 One grateful song of soul-dissolving praise. 
 
 Ah, how unlike the peace-consuming blast, 
 Forth from the eye of rage tyrannic cast ! 
 How different from the fault-reviving theme, 
 The drunken bluster, and the midnight scream, 
 The haggard look, the self-brought threadbare mien, 
 The scowling flash of penury and spleen !
 
 PLEASURES OF HOME. 13 
 
 Hark ! there are sounds which of devotion tell ; 
 Heard you the chiming of the sabbath bell? 
 Creation now seems hush'd with man of rest, 
 ' Like a child slumbering on its mother's breast. 
 Commerce stands still, the ear no harshness meets 
 From the thick thunder of the rattling streets ; 
 The farm-yard now assumes a quiet mien, 
 The flail lies dormant by the hush'd machine ; 
 Nor is there heard the heavy sounding cracks 
 Of the loud carman's whip, or woodman's axe : 
 Silence pervades the sacred scene around, 
 Save the grove music, and tbe milkpail's sound. 
 Now, where the sweets of home delights are spread, 
 A hallow'd unction round the abode is shed, 
 And some new joys, just issuing at their gate, 
 The happy inmates of of its walls await. 
 Look at the neatness of that lowly spot, 
 And know its beauties bring no sabbath blot ; 
 Each shining steel which now the fire- wings 1 grace, 
 The night before had found its chosen place. 
 See the fair group, clad with the hand of care, 
 Moving in order to the house of prayer : 
 The children, differing but a step in size 
 And rang'd devoutly, glad their parent's eyes. 
 Behold them through the sacred portals go, 
 Each step bespeaks a reverential awe. 
 Seated, observe there's no imperious glance, 
 No vacant stare, or prying look askance :
 
 14 PLEA8USES OF HOME. 
 
 Bow'd with the awful stillness of the place, 
 
 A solemn dread sits mark'd on every face. 
 
 Deep opening hear, the organ, rapturous, vast, 
 
 Heaven's mighty praise rolls rushing in the blast ; 
 
 In unison their heart-taught voices rise, 
 
 And blend their honours with the smiling skies. 
 
 Ah ! where art thou, child of misfortune's birth, 
 Lone, houseless, homeless, wanderer of the earth ? 
 Where are thy joys ? what comforts dost thou know? 
 From whence, alas ! must thy poor pleasures flow ? 
 "What spot beholds thee to thy book betake, 
 Or hears thy lonely orisons awake ? 
 Ye, who have never with misfortune striven, 
 Who daily bask beneath the smile of heaven, 
 Oh, let that smile a sister kindness teach, 
 And let its rays the lair of suffering reach ; 
 Be yours the channel where the kindred blood 
 Of bounty pours its philanthropic flood. 
 
 Now o'er the meads, and on the beds of flowers, 
 The spring clouds drop their germ-awak'ning showers, 
 The hedge-rows laugh, with op 'ning verdure crown'd, 
 And blossoms, bursting, breath their sweets around, 
 Light fly the life-stirred people of the wing, 
 And with their song the ravine echoes ring ; 
 The warming sun his cordial influence sheds, 
 And earth, arous'd, her varying produce spreads.
 
 PLEASURES OF HOME. 15 
 
 Now let us to the garden work repair, 
 To taste the pleasures emanating there ; 
 And in the abundance of the mind's employ, 
 Say, where is bliss less mingled with alloy ? 
 Here, while your bride some floral work finds out, 
 And blithe your children romp the walks about, 
 With joy you contemplate the faithful seed, 
 And check the progress of the noisome weed ; 
 Or trim the hedge, or form the sheltering bower, 
 A screen from heat or sudden-falling shower ; 
 Or watch the bees in busy numbers dwell, 
 A moment probing every opening bell, 
 Till charg'd at length with treasures for the comb, 
 They bear the product of their labours home. 
 Summer arriving, when the foliage gay, 
 Appears in full magnificent display, 
 You, joyous, gather from the garden store 
 A rich return for all your pains before. 
 Glad, flickering run your little ones to cull 
 The ripening berries from the branches full ; 
 As eager oft their little eyes will roll, 
 O'er the ripe stone-fruit on the towering wall. 
 Or should you find, within the thicket's breast, 
 The cunning harbour of the nestling's nest, 
 How will they round their happy parent leap, 
 To gain a fluttering, gratifying peep ! 
 And when the year is ripe, and plenty's hand 
 Fresh life diffuses thro' a smiling land ;
 
 16 PLEASURES OF HOME. 
 
 When the shorn, sheaves the merry reapers bind, 
 And every tree is teeming with its kind, 
 Then view the home-glanc'd sun-rays of delight, 
 The nimble footstep, and the joy -Jit sight. 
 Observe the orchard with a group of love, 
 Watching their store come showering from above, 
 The red-cheek'd apples vieing with their own, 
 And then the mirth-shout at some fruit-crack'd crown . 
 These, these are joys, though sometimes sung before, 
 Hope smiling hears, and seems awake for more. 
 Yet think not that a sordid feeling brings 
 The bliss arising from those ample springs : 
 It is. not that your own alone shall share 
 The bounteous fullness of the fruitful year ; 
 The mind that can with grateful feelings bow, 
 Knows all the influence of their impulse now. 
 
 Rise, glowing muse ! with renovated song, 
 Urge thy advancing energies along. 
 Lo ! fresh delights, and pleasures ever new, 
 Thick'ning around, come pouring on the view. 
 And now, when a dense darkness veils the skies, 
 And thro' the air the shivering tempest flies, 
 When desolation's hand is seen afar, 
 And wintry horrors mount their iron car, 
 While dissipation to its death-work creeps, 
 And the rack'd brain in burning lethe steeps ;
 
 PLEASURES OF HOME. 17 
 
 While the harsh mind, bound groveling to the earth, 
 
 Gives to some new privation withering birth, 
 
 And tries with arts as reckless as unkind, 
 
 Base wealth from out curb'd industry to grind ; 
 
 And while the radiance oi compassion's rays, 
 
 Is made to seem one great o'erwheming blaze, 
 
 By those who, loud yet frigid as the north, 
 
 Send the swoln praises of their bounty forth. 
 
 Oh ! let me from whate'er my home may spare, 
 
 At least the pleasures of its silence share. 
 
 And when the brief glass of the day is run, 
 
 And eve proclaims her avocations done, 
 
 Then let me, with a choice book-store supplied, 
 
 And my lov'd partner seated by my side, 
 
 Drink the deep sweets of poesy's rich page, 
 
 Sigh with its griefs, and kindle with its rage. 
 
 O ye ! whose blood flowed in no common veins, 
 
 Ye who have sung in never-dying strains ; 
 
 How shall I pass so great an host of fame, 
 
 And yield no humble tribute to your name ? 
 
 Dryden and Milton foremost in the throng 
 That tower'd above the wreck of early song. 
 Oh ! had ye still to poesy confin'd, 
 Shunn'd public strife and cast its stir behind, 
 Yours had not been one spirit-paining fate, 
 Shorn, living victims of a changing State.
 
 18 PLEASURES OF HOME. 
 
 But chiefly thou, whose mighty numbers roll 
 Like ocean-waves, deep deluging the soul, 
 Shtikespear, to thee my tributary lays 
 Would buoyant flow, though feeble were the praise ; 
 To thee who, when my dawning thought began 
 To contemplate that high-born being, man, 
 Full on the sight laid open every part, 
 And each vast spring of manhood's seat, the heart ; 
 Wielding its passions in their varying form, 
 Now lull'd in peace, now gathering into storm. 
 Here love is seen by some lone flower-bank straying, 
 Mantling in smiles and with her tresses playing ; 
 There, raging wild amid opposing shocks, 
 Dash'd with the billows o'er their lurking rocks, 
 Or spurr'd to madness by a thousand stings, 
 Flapping o'er death-forms her ensanguined wings. 
 What mind like thine, piercing the walls of state, 
 Has shown so deep a knowledge of the great ? 
 Wondering we see thee rising o'er a crown, 
 And on its bright head pouring lustre down, 
 Appall'd we stand, as through the senate-hall 
 We hear the tempest of thy periods roll. 
 What are to thee the red-wing'd shafts of war ? 
 Or clashing death-spears gleaming from afar ? 
 The rebel-rush ? its deluge foaming wide ? 
 Or the blanch'd wreck of its retiring tide ? 
 Alike are all to thee ; e'en the young dream 
 Of beauty's tenderest sleep, a murmuring stream,
 
 PLEASURES OP HOME. 19 
 
 And the sweet breathing of some lonely flower, 
 
 Alike have felt the touches of thy power, 
 
 All have a charm from thy majestic mind, 
 
 Unequall'd, dreadful, soothing, unconfin'd. 
 
 Ye too, who stand in prominent array, 
 
 Masters in song of yet a later day. 
 
 To me ye seem as stars at night appear, 
 
 Or tones of music opening on the ear, 
 
 Some smooth, some strong, some ravishingly deep, 
 
 Some pealing onward like an organ's sweep j 
 
 Soft as the lute another pours his lay, 
 
 And melting dies iEolian-like away. 
 
 First in the ranks, where each his steed bestrides, 
 
 Girt with renown the dazzling Marmion rides, 
 
 Next, flaming out in streaming, wild attire. 
 
 Childe Harold spurs his mettled steed of fire ; 
 
 Yok'd with the lightning-speed of the wild horse, 
 
 That whizz'd Mazzeppa on his dreadful course. 
 
 Thee too, sweet Moore ! nigh foremost in the flight 
 
 Cover'd with roses and new beams of light, 
 
 Thy swift- wing'd Pegasus, of brilliant name, 
 
 Still unimpeded holds her speed with fame. 
 
 Montgomery, Southey, Coleridge, Polloh* Burns, 
 
 All strike their pleasure-giving chords by turns. 
 
 And there is Onef the sparkling gems among, 
 
 A child of sweetness and mellifluous song, 
 
 * Author of " The Course of Time." t Wordsworth.
 
 20 
 
 PLEASURES OF HOME. 
 
 Born in a new untrodden path to please, 
 Bright beaming with simplicity and ease, 
 Who, where a Grasmere smiles in vernal pride, 
 Looks from her hills as from Parnassia's side, . 
 His temples girt with an unfading crown 
 Starr'd with poetic chrysolites, his own. 
 Hail land of love, of waterfall, and hill, 
 Flock-spotted valley, woodland, lake, and rill ! 
 Where first these eyes, with life's commencing fay, 
 Open'd their young lids on the sun-lit day. 
 Oh ! how this heart-pulse vibrates at the view, 
 Scenes of my youth, for ever, ever new ! 
 There thou, my father, taught this early lip 
 At truth's unerring crystal rill to sip. (1) 
 E'en now, methinks, I see thy manly eye 
 Glow like a sunbeam on a sabbath sky ; 
 While thy outpouring, spirit-stirring voice 
 Bade the rais'd functions of the heart rejoice, 
 Pointing to realms where life's commotions cease, 
 And every gust of passion is at peace. 
 There, bright in years, a mother still is there, 
 Still breathing her sweet spirit out in prayer, 
 And daily on that aged, bended knee, 
 Mingled with tears, is uttered one for me. 
 O tender thought ! could I ungrateful prove ? 
 Oh ! monstrous bosom ! O maternal love ! 
 Possess you peace, with that fair blessing health ? 
 They form a mother's joy, her dearest wealth :
 
 PLEASURES OF HOME. 
 
 Drink ye the nectar of that glittering fount 
 Which spreads its breast on flattery's giddy mount ? 
 It is her voice, meek, trembling in the air, 
 That first informs you of your peril there. 
 The wretch undone and torn with mental pain, 
 Doom'd for his crimes to bear the dungeon chain, 
 When not a soul shall hear what he would tell 
 Of the fell horrors of his clanking cell ; 
 When all his hopes and all his friends are fled, 
 E'en the fair breast that pillowed his head 
 May oft perceive one ray of solace given, 
 A mother's sigh breath'd on the ear of heaven : 
 She, while mankind his failings only know, 
 In secret suffers many a tear to flow : 
 And ever first, with never-ceasing care, 
 Untir'd she tries some healing balm to bear : 
 Still in the midst we see her, feebly strong, 
 Clinging like hope his fortune's rocks among. 
 When from her seat the angel Health hath fled, 
 And Pain supplants the slumbers of her bed ; 
 When the pulse reels, and fevers flush the eye, 
 And through the veins their fiery arrows fly : 
 And when we see the wished-for dawn" of light, 
 Yet cheerless turn and wish again 'twas night ; 
 And when 'tis night we ever tossing lay, 
 Pore on the lamp and wish again 'twas day ; 
 There is a form which must not be denied, 
 That ever sits attendant at our side,
 
 22 PLEASURES OF HOME, 
 
 An eye that silent runs with pearly rain, 
 But brightens at each interval from pain ; 
 A hand that tries all untried means to cheer, 
 A voice that whispers Jesu in the ear ! 
 
 A mother once I knew, but she was left, 
 And of her only darling son bereft, 
 He'd hear'd of valour and of veteran scars, 
 And sought to earn their laurels in the wars. 
 A youth was he of truth-erected mien, 
 Possess'd of merit more than yet was seen. 
 But he was reckless and of headstrong mind, 
 Spurn'd at controul, to admonition blind, 
 And he was silent many a passing year : 
 No tidings of the wanderer could we hear. 
 His lovely mother felt her lonely state, 
 And, sorrowing, deem'd a foreign grave his fate ; 
 Yet oft amid illusive dreams she'd start, 
 Clasping imagin'd Henry to her heart. 
 And she would dream of waters huge and dark, 
 And of some reeling, leeward-driven bark ; 
 Of wrecks and shoals, of ocean's rending roar, 
 Of dead men cast upon a savage shore, 
 Of precipices and the howling Alps, 
 Of battle-fields, of soldiers' fleshless scalps, 
 Of graves and danger, hunger, thirst, despair, 
 With death-shrieks borne along the clamorous air.
 
 PLEASURES OF HOME. 23 
 
 And she would say, when evening spread her wing, 
 Fann'd with the fragrant blossom-gales of spring, 
 " This is the seat where oft an hour he took, 
 " And sat in silence with his favourite book ; 
 " And there, full oft, among those shadowy trees 
 " His curl'd locks waving in the infant breeze, 
 " There with a mate incessantly he'd play, 
 " And prattle something all the live-long day." 
 On such an eve it was, when nigh the spot, 
 I sought to wake the music of her cot, 
 A letter came : 'Twas his ! 'twas Henry's hand, 
 Henry oace more safe in his native land ! 
 The startled mother spoke about her boy, 
 It might be madness but 'twas more like joy, 
 The bosom labour'd, yet a vivid flush 
 Flit o'er the cheek like joy's returning rush. 
 The eye, though fix'd, was like a wandering star 
 When seen at first, bright coming from afar, 
 And though it broke not, a sweet accent hung 
 Like heavenly gratitude upon the tongue. 
 A rap was heard : I saw the door-latch fly, 
 'Twas Him ! we knew him by his sparkling eye ; 
 I mark'd the glance, and saw the mother run : 
 I heard the wild cry " Oh ! my son ! my son !" 
 Such are the scenes of home, and such have been 
 Mens' purest pleasures since their dawn was seen. 
 Most other joys, such as deserve the name, 
 Shine here but to irradiate their flame.
 
 24 PLEASURES OF HOME. 
 
 The joys of eloquence and valiant deeds, 
 Where minions crouch and the oppressor bleeds, 
 Reach not the summit of their glory's pile, 
 Till crown'd at Home with an approving smile. 
 
 What means that noise, and that alarming hum? 
 It is the foeman's cry, the foeman's drum ! 
 See, on our hills a sudden host appears, 
 With naming flambeaux and with bristling spears : 
 And shall we not enjoy our peaceful toil ? 
 Nor reap the fruitful harvest of our soil ? 
 Has the foul eye of envy's scathing blast 
 Upon the neatness of our homes been cast ? 
 Comes it beneath some paltry pretext's brow, 
 To gulp the plunder of its spirit now ? 
 Are these our cultur'd sweets so long enjoy'd, 
 The objects to be rifled or destroy'd ? 
 Enough : I see your streaming banners rise, 
 The watchword " Home !" runs pealing on the skies, 
 Uplifted high is every manly hand 
 With nerve of steel grasping the battle-brand ; 
 Forth comes the thunder and the onset-shout, 
 Gods ! what a cry ! how terrible the rout ! 
 Prone lies the plunderer's arm, it's life-blood quaff 'd, 
 The heart was conquer'd e're it felt the shaft. 
 Men may do much for plunder or applause : 
 What wakes the spirit is a Nobler Cause.
 
 PLEASURES OP HOME. 
 
 25 
 
 But pause not here at this unhallowed blow, 
 Home knows another and a deadlier foe : 
 He comes, not like the open steel-girt man 
 Who bears aloft his purpose in his van ; 
 He comes, as came the origin of wiles 
 Wreathed in all the winningness of smiles : 
 And where of beauty blooms a portion rare, 
 The smiler worms his serpent spirit there, 
 Tis ardour all, and all from seeming youth, 
 And not a shadow veils the plighted truth ; 
 The parents smile upon their favourite gem, 
 And hope shines round this half-ingrafted stem. 
 Bright dawns the bridal morn ; becoming glee 
 Mantles the cheek of modest buoyancy : 
 No more ; another smiles o'er broken ties 
 Proclaim'd, as on the nuptial chariot flies. 
 
 Such was Amelia's fate, of mind serene, 
 Fair as an early flower when earliest seen ; 
 And she had beauty of that peerless kind 
 Which takes its lustre from a polished mind. 
 She lov'd, but her's was love of such a name 
 That never saw the ashes of its flame. 
 She did not rave, nor did there once a tear 
 Upon her steadfast eyelids-brim appear, 
 But there was something working in the brain 
 With blighting hand : she never smiled again. 
 
 D 
 
 <v
 
 26 PLEASURES OF HOME. 
 
 And there was brightness in her eye of jet, 
 
 But 'twas a spring sky when the sun has set. 
 
 The aged, venerable father stood 
 
 Contending with a weak obtruding flood, 
 
 And when 'twas down, forth went a look of ire 
 
 That never flash'd but from an eye of fire, 
 
 The mind was on some writhing thought intent, 
 
 Its fires were kindling but were inly bent. 
 
 The mother look'd as might an heavenly smile 
 
 When cast upon its burning funeral pile, 
 
 'Twas resignation beautifully meek 
 
 That lit the radiant furrows of her cheek ; 
 
 Her's was the form that stood as light-towers stand 
 
 To night-caught seamen on a dangerous strand. 
 
 Lorenza died ; but e'er the spirit fled 
 
 No common feeling mark'd that fiery bed, 
 
 The soul was up, its unexpung'd arrear 
 
 Shook to the base the fabric of its sphere ; 
 
 There flit a livid dew-damp o'er the eye, 
 
 As clouds o'er sunshine with their shadows fly, 
 
 And on the Up a quivering accent hung, 
 
 Amelia's name was last upon his tongue. 
 
 Here end thy foes, theme of the bard's delight ! 
 And come ye fam'd with aspects beaming bright, 
 Who wrapt in pure affection's heavenly vest, 
 Deal gladness round as your own homes are blest.
 
 PLEASURES OF HOME. 27 
 
 None ever felt the full rewards of joy 
 Till blessing man became his blest employ. 
 Wealth, power, and talent concentrated here, 
 Have found the pathway of their best career. 
 
 Hail Britain's isle ! the spot whence many a star 
 Shines out refulgently on realms afar. 
 Clime of the East ! where roll'd the Indian eye 
 With savage glare upon thy fiery sky, 
 How art thou chang'd ! how soothing now the tone 
 That cheers thy sons and warbles in thy zone I 
 Where idols stood, and superstition wild 
 Urg'd its fierce flame from parent down to child, 
 The sons of truth aloft their standard raise, 
 And pagan voices chant Jehovah's praise. 
 Clime of the West ! degraded as thou art, 
 And deep as is thy red internal smart, 
 There's yet a beam from hope's high station smiles, 
 That sheds its mellowing influence on thy isles. 
 The voice is up, that, borne along the main, 00 
 Shall snap the brittle rivets of thy chain, 
 And with its triple lightning-tipped point 
 Shall strike the shackles from each goaded joint. 
 Thrice glorious day when on thy burning strand 
 Free as its breeze the Negro race shall stand ! 
 When to their grasp the rightful boon is given ; 
 To hold their rank among the heirs of heaven !
 
 28 PLEASURES OF HOME. 
 
 How will the song around their hamlets ring (3) 
 
 To England's patriots, to England's king ! 
 
 As the young vital fire of freedom warms, 
 
 And spreads the sweets of Home's new tasted charms, 
 
 Who shall refuse to join the heaven- ward strain ? 
 
 Its theme as noble, worthy William's reign. 
 
 Clime of the North ! along whose distant shore, (4) 
 
 The waves of ocean break their labouring roar, 
 
 There on the verge of Shetland's utmost bounds, 
 
 Britannia's voice awakes celestial sounds ; 
 
 The lonely fisherman imbibes the flame, 
 
 And round his hearth-fire breathes Messiah's name. 
 
 Clime of the South ! there too the glowing word 
 
 From Albion's love-wing'd messengers is heard ; 
 
 Where erst red vengeance hurl'd her death-barb'd 
 
 stings, (5) 
 Peace hovering waves her seraph-plumed wings ; (6) 
 And where was found the damp, gramineous bed, (7) 
 The murky tenement and " wig-wam shed," 
 Array 'd in white the coral cot is seen, (8) 
 Rising amid the mapes and plaintains green ; (9) 
 Where mothers in Tahitian fierceness stood, (10) 
 And steep'd their wild hands in their infants blood : 
 (Not once alone has thus that tie been broke, 
 Ten thousand cries have echo'd to its stroke :) 
 There bright with love, and smilingly serene (11) 
 Bent on their mats the home-form'd groups are seen,
 
 PLEASURES OF HOME. 29 
 
 The mother stretching out the arm of care, 
 And shielding her sweet innocents with prayer. 
 
 From north, from south, from being's farthest span, 
 Where'er is found the impress-foot of Man, 
 Come with a spirit touch'd with heavenly fire, 
 Spread wide the glow and strike the grateful lyre ! 
 Tell of the deeds in every climate wrought, 
 The growth of knowledge and the stretch of thought ; 
 And let that verse which skims the surface wave 
 Disperse into its own aerial grave ; 
 And that to which miss-shapen minds give birth, 
 Find its own spot the rottenness of earth. 
 Be your's the song that leads the mind to Him 
 Who sways the sceptre of the cherubim, 
 Once seen on earth amid the laugh of scorn, 
 And branded with a diadem of thorn ! 
 
 Hark ! 'tis a sound responsive to your voice, 
 It peals again and cries " Rejoice ! rejoice !" 
 Anticipation borne on lofty wing 
 Reaches the portals whence these plaudits ring, 
 Wide fly the barriers of obstructing night, 
 Jehovah reigns and all around is light 
 Afar she sees the gathered myriads stand 
 Of varying hues from every clime and land, 
 And on her ear the halleluja-cry 
 In rapture shouts the Welcome of the Sky ;
 
 30 PLEASURES OF HOME. 
 
 The triumph past, joy's requiems intervene 
 Then all is music breathingly serene. 
 
 And it shall come ! that day when all shall rise 
 And flap their pinions onward to the skies : 
 That day be yours be mine the bliss to be 
 With all the armies of eternity ! 
 Heirs of that sphere whence none shall ever roam 
 One bright, Celestial, Universal Home.
 
 NOTES 
 
 PLEASURES OF HOME. 
 
 A POEM.
 
 NOTES 
 
 TO THE PLEASURES OF HOME. 
 
 (1.) Page 20. 
 
 " There Thou, my father, taught this early lip, 
 " At Truth's unerring crystal rill to sip." 
 
 The Author's father was a minister in the Wesleyan connexion 
 for nearly half a century. His name in Westmoreland, and Cum- 
 berland, and on the borders of Lancashire, is gratefully remembered 
 by many. 
 
 (2.) Page 27. 
 
 " The voice is up, that borne along the main." 
 
 These lines were written during the celebrated Yorkshire election, 
 when the Lord Chancellor (Brougham) was elected member for that 
 county. 
 
 (3.) Page 28. 
 
 " How will the song around their hamlets ring !" 
 
 " I sometimes wish that I was the Owner of Africa, to do at once 
 what Wilberforce will do in time, viz. : sweep Slavery from her 
 deserts, and look upon the first dance of their freedom." Byron. 
 E
 
 34 NOTES TO THE 
 
 (4.) Page 28. 
 
 "Clime of the north !" 
 
 See " Sermons" published a few years since by the late Dr. Adam 
 Clark, founder of a mission in the Shetland islands. 
 
 (5.) Page 28. 
 
 " Where erst red vengeance hurl'd her death-barb'd 
 stings." 
 
 "They (the inhabitants of the Polynesian islands) do not use the 
 patia, or dagger of the Sandwich islands, but substitute an equally 
 fatal weapon, the arofai, or the backbone of the Stinging Ray (fish) ; 
 which being serrated on the edges, and barbed towards the point, 
 is very destructive in a dexterous hand." Ellis's Polynesian Re- 
 searches, vol ii, p. 497. 
 
 (6.) Page 28. 
 
 " Peace hovering waves her seraph-plumed wings." 
 
 Before the introduction of Christianity into the South Sea islands 
 Mr. Ellis, in the work above quoted, observes, p. 495, and 496, 
 vol. ii. 
 
 " Provision for war was attended to when every other considera- 
 tion was disregarded. In the perpetration of the unnatural crime 
 of infanticide, boys were more frequently spared than female 
 children, with a view of their becoming warriors. In all our schools 
 we were surprised at the disproportion between the boys and the 
 girls that attended, and at the small number of women in the adult 
 population, and, on inquiring the cause, were invariably told that 
 more girls than boy6 were destroyed, because they would, if spared, 
 be comparatively useless in war. War, therefore, being esteemed 
 by the majority as the most important end of life, every kind of 
 training for battle was held in the highest repute." 
 
 Sometime after the establishment of British Missionaries in Poly- 
 nesia, he gives the following beautiful contrast, vol. ii, p. 519, and 
 530.
 
 PLEASURES OF HOME. 35 
 
 " As the people began to feel the blessings of Peace, with its con- 
 tinuance, their desire to perpetuate it become stronger. Its preva- 
 lence and extent are often surprising even to themselves ; and some 
 of the most striking illustrations of the advantages of true religion, 
 and appeals for its support and extension, are drawn from this fact, 
 and expressed in terms like these : ' Let our hands forget how hi te 
 a more,' or 'vero ti patia,' (lift the club, or throw the spear.) ? Let 
 our guns decay with rust, we want them not ; for though we have 
 been pierced with balls or spears, if we pierce each other now, let it 
 be with the word of God. How happy are we now ! we sleep not 
 with our cartridges under our heads, our muskets by our sides, and 
 our hearts palpitating with alarm : now we have the Bible, we know 
 the Saviour ; and if all knew him, if all bowed the knee to him, 
 there would be no more War on the earth.' 
 
 "It is not in public only that they manifest these sentiments ; in 
 ordinary life at home, they act upon them. The most affectionate 
 and friendly intercourse is cultivated between the parties who for- 
 merly cherished the most implacable hatred, and vowed each others 
 extermination. Offices of kindness and affection are performed with 
 promptitude and cheerfulness, and though by some their weapons 
 are retained as relics of past days, or securities against invasion, by 
 many they are destroyed. Often have I seen a gun barrel, or other 
 iron weapon that has been carried to the forge, submitted to the fire, 
 laid upon the anvil, and beaten, not exactly into a ploughshare or a 
 pruning hook, (for the vine does not stretch its luxuriant branches 
 along their sunny hills,) but beaten into an implement of husbandry, 
 and used by its proprietor in the culture of his plantation, or his 
 garden. Their weapons of wood also have often been employed as 
 handles for their tools ; and their implements of war have been 
 converted with promptitude into the furniture of the earthly sanc- 
 tuary of Jehovah. The last pulpit that I ascended in the South Sea 
 islands was at Rurutu. I had ministered to a large congregation, in 
 a spacious and well-built chapel of native architecture, over which 
 the natives conducted me at the close of the service. The floor was 
 boarded, and a considerable portion of the interior space fitted up 
 with seats or forms. The pulpit was well though rudely constructed;
 
 36 NOTES TO THE 
 
 the stairs that led to it were guarded by rails, surmounted by a banister 
 of mahogany-coloured tamanu wood ; the rails were of black aito 
 wood, and highly polished. I asked my companions where they had 
 procured those rails, and they replied, that they had made them 
 with the handles of warriors' spears." 
 
 (7.) Page 28. 
 
 " And where was found the damp gramineous bed, 
 " The murky tenement and ' wig- warn shed.' " 
 
 ** Although we always urged the completion of their houses as 
 soon as they could, we were often highly interested in visiting their 
 partially finished dwellings. There is something peculiarly pleasing 
 in watching the process which periodically changes the face of 
 the natural world. The swelling bud the opening blossom 
 the expanding leaves the tiny fruit formations, as they regularly 
 pass under the eye of the observer, are not less interesting than the 
 bough bending with full ripe fruit. The process which effects the 
 changes marking the progress from birth to maturity is not less 
 curious, and which was rapidly transforming the character, and 
 habits of a nation, and materially altering even the aspect of the 
 habitable portions of their country. This gave a peculiar interest to 
 the nondescript sort of dwelling, half native hut, and half European 
 cottage, which many of the people at this time inhabited. They 
 marked the steps, and developed the process, by which they were 
 rising from the rude and cheerless degradation of the one, to the 
 elevation and enjoyment of the other. These sensations were often 
 heightened by our beholding in the neighbourhood of these half 
 finished houses, the lonely and comfortless hut they had aban- 
 doned, and the neatly finished cottage in which the inmates enjoyed 
 a degree of comfort, that, to use their own powerful expression, 
 made them sometimes ready to doubt whether they were the same 
 people who had been contented to inhabit their former dwellings, 
 surrounded by pigs and dogs, and swarms of vermin, while the 
 wind blew over them, and the rain beat upon them." Ibid, vol. ii, 
 p. 79. 80.
 
 PLEASURES OF HOME. 37 
 
 (8.) Page 28. 
 
 " Array 'd in white the coral cot is seen.'"' 
 
 " The stone in the northern parts of the island of Eimeo is a kind 
 of compact, ancient lava, and though rather hard, is, we think 
 adapted for buildings. We were desirous to induce some of the chiefs 
 to attempt the erection of a stone house ; but they had no proper 
 tools for preparing the stone, and the labour was also greater than in 
 the present state of civilization they were disposed to undertake. It 
 is not, however, improbable that stone buildings will ultimately super- 
 cede the neat, yet, compared with those erected of less perishable 
 materials, temporary dwellings they are now occupying. The coral 
 rock is also more durable than plaster, and although soft, and 
 easily hewn when first taken out of the sea, it afterwards assumes a 
 degree of hardness which resists the weather for a long series of 
 years. A chapel has been built with the material in the island of 
 Eimeo, and will probably last longer than any yet erected." Ibid, 
 vol ii, p. 81. 
 
 (9.) Page 28. 
 
 " Rising amid the mapes and plantains green." 
 
 " Like other chesnut trees, the mape is of stately growth and 
 splendid foliage. It is occasionally seen in the high grounds, but 
 flourishes only in the rich bottoms of the vallies, and seldom ap- 
 pears in greater perfection than on the margin of a stream. From 
 the top of a mountain I have often been able to mark the course of 
 a river by the winding, and almost unbroken line of chesnuts, that 
 have towered in majesty above the trees of humbler growth. The 
 mape is branching ; but the trunk, which is the most singular part 
 of it, usually rises ten or twelve feet without a branch, after which 
 the arms are large and spreading." Ibid, vol. i, p. 375.
 
 38 NOTES TO THE 
 
 (10.) Page 28. 
 
 " Where mothers in Tahitian fierceness stood, 
 And steep'd their wild hands in their infants' blood." 
 
 " In point of number the disproportion between the infants 
 spared and those destroyed, was truly distressing. It was not easy 
 to learn exactly what this disproportion was ; but the first mission- 
 aries published it as their opinion that not less than two-thirds of 
 the children were murdered by their own parents. Subsequent in- 
 tercoixrse with the people, and the affecting details many have given 
 since their reception of Christianity, authorize the adoption of the 
 opinion as correct. The first three infants, they observed, were fre- 
 quently killed ; and in the event of twins being born, both were 
 rarely permitted to live. In the largest families more than two or 
 three children were seldom spared, whde the numbers that were 
 killed were incredible. The very circumstance of their destroying, 
 instead of nursing, their children, rendered their offspring more nu- 
 merous than it would otherwise have been. We have been acquainted 
 with a number of parents, who, according to their own confessions, 
 or the united testimony of their friends and neighbours, had inhu- 
 manly consigned to an untimely grave, four, or six, or eight, or ten 
 children, and some even a greater number. I feel hence the pain- 
 ful and humiliating conviction, which I have ever been reluctant to 
 admit, forced upon me, from the testimony of the natives themselves, 
 the proportion found by the first missionaries, and existing in the 
 population at the time of our arrival, that during the generations im- 
 mediately preceding the subversion of paganism, not less than two- 
 thirds of the children were massacred. A female who was fre- 
 quently accustomed to wash the linen for our family had thus cruelly 
 destroyed five or six. Another who had resided very near us, had 
 been the mother of eight, of which only one had been spared. But 
 I will not multiply instances which are numerous in every island, 
 and of the accounts of which the recollection is most distinct. I am 
 desirous to establish beyond doubt the belief of the practice, as it is 
 one, from every consideration, the subversion of which must be
 
 PLEASURES OF HOME. 39 
 
 most gratifying to the christian mind, as well as calculated to 
 awaken its energies for the further amelioration of the wretched 
 condition of the heathen." Ibid, vol, i, p. 334, 335. 
 
 (11.) Page 28. 
 
 " There, bright with love, and smilingly serene, 
 Bent on their mats the home-formed groups are seen, 
 The mother stretching out the arm of care, 
 And shielding her sweet innocents with prayer." 
 
 " The abolition of this practice, (infanticide), with the subversion' 
 of idolatry, is a great reward to those who have sent the mild and 
 humane principles of true religion, to those islands. This single 
 fact demands the gratitude of every christian parent, especially of 
 every christian female, and affords the most cheering encourage- 
 ment to those engaged in spreading the gospel through the world. 
 The elevating, mild, and humanizing influence of Christianity, has 
 not only effected its entire abolition, but it has received and cherished 
 those emotions of parental tenderness and affection originally im- 
 planted in the human bosom. A change of feeling and of conduct, 
 in this respect, has taken place, as delightful as it is astonishing. 
 The most civilized and christian parts of the world do not furnish 
 more affectionate parents than the Society Islanders now are. In 
 general they are too tender towards their children, and do not exer- 
 cise that discipline and control over them, which the well-being of 
 the child, and the happiness of the parent, require. Ibid, vol. i, 
 p. 341. 
 
 oo oo
 
 00- 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS POEMS. 
 
 -oo
 
 43 
 
 THE ROBBER'S HUT. 
 
 In November it was, when the hedges were bare 
 
 And the dry leaves were rustling about, 
 That I saw for the first time the robber-man's lair 
 
 When 'twas whisper'd the robber was out. 
 
 2. 
 It stood, where no cottager's shelter was nigh, 
 
 At the foot of a crag-cover 'd slope, 
 And it look'd like the home of an infidel-eye, 
 
 Or of age long bereft of its hope. 
 
 3. 
 'Twas eve : and the clouds seem'd to hurry away 
 
 O'er the gloom of so cheerless a sight, 
 And the winds as they urged their course with the Day, 
 
 Seem'd to drag, as a fugitive, Night. 
 
 4. 
 On the brow of the slope stood one storm-beaten tree 
 
 Lowly bent, with its branches astray ; 
 By the hut was a green spot, or seemed to be, 
 
 But its fences were gone to decay.
 
 44 
 
 THE ROBBER S HUT. 
 
 5. 
 
 In the distance were hills whose dark shadows were cast 
 
 O'er a gulph, that dash'd wild on the shore ; 
 And the ocean-sound opening along with the blast, 
 
 Made more drear that lone spot with its roar. 
 
 6. 
 The beams of the moon now beginning to peep, 
 
 I espy'd through a chink where I sat 
 A cautious, slow length from that cabin to creep, 
 
 'Twas the Robber half hid by his hat. 
 
 7. 
 
 He stood : when there pass'd the wild shriek of a bird, 
 
 He shrunk back again to his hut ; 
 Not a footstep,^or sound, or a creak, could be heard 
 
 As the lattice behind him he shut. 
 
 8. 
 I have pass'd by the mountain-bred cottager's door 
 
 As the younkers were gamboling about, 
 Andhave mark'dthe light-hearted, bright look of the poor, 
 
 In the midst of their innocent rout. 
 
 9. 
 I have seen too, where industry fosters the ground, 
 
 With what grace the cot-rose will appear ! 
 While the moss-cultur'd plots which are smiling around 
 
 Teem with food for the dearth of the year. 
 
 10. 
 But ah ! when I look'd on that dreary abode, 
 
 What a contrast of feelings arose !
 
 CALUMNY. 45 
 
 Here Crime with the night-shade sends Terror abroad ; 
 There slumbereth the Peace of Repose. 
 
 CALUMNY. 
 
 Whence art thou? whispering fiend ! I hate thy 
 
 name; 
 Thy grin out-grins the vilest imp of hell ; 
 And if thou thence into these regions came, 
 Go get thee back to where the furies yell, 
 And ever there in ten-fold darkness dwell. 
 I'd rather bear what painful sickness brings, 
 Than harbour thee, or hear what thou would'st tell, 
 Oh, monster of a thousand barbed stings ! 
 When must the genius rise shall clip thy baneful 
 
 wings ? 
 
 2. 
 Offspring of untruth, envy, malice, guile, 
 The basest-born of meanness and deceit ! 
 How dost thou shrink beneath a simpering smile, 
 When face to face thou should'st thy victim meet. 
 If there's on earth a corner-seeking cheat, 
 One who is fearful of the morning light, 
 His breast might melt and with repentance beat ; 
 But thou all recklessly pursuest thy flight, 
 Man's bane thy darling theme, his ruin thy delight.
 
 46 CALUMNY. 
 
 3. 
 
 Oh, how I hate thee, Calumny ! and yet 
 
 It is not that thy winged shafts I fear, 
 
 For Probity, by conscious Virtue whet, 
 
 Shall break thy javelin's aim and mar thy spear ; 
 
 Far, far behind thy venom shall appear 
 
 To eyes lit up by reason's placid ray, 
 
 Not only shalt thou linger in the rear, 
 
 But when thou'rt summon'd to the face of day 
 
 How wilt thou hide thy head from him thou deem'st 
 
 thy prey ! 
 
 4. 
 I envy not those little earth-minds, who, 
 Forever ready for the slanderous tale, 
 Eager imbibe what falsehood says, then go 
 "Where others, still as eager, catch the gale. 
 Can ye not over thoughts like these prevail ? 
 'Tis pity that a being like to man, 
 Should bend to deeds so impotently frail : 
 Behold the grandeur of Creation's plan ! 
 And then survey your works, and love them if you 
 
 can.
 
 TASTK. 47 
 
 TASTE. 
 
 WRITTEN IN A LADY'S ALBUM. 
 
 Taste ! gentle flame, let me hallow thee now, 
 And with joy at this moment renew 
 
 Those feelings instill'd hy thy spirit when thou 
 Thy mantle first over me threw. 
 
 2. 
 Like the rose-foot of spring, when her young dews 
 fall 
 On the heath where no verdure is seen, 
 Thou first lit on this heart where 'twas barren- 
 ness all, 
 And thy smile bad'st it bud and be green. 
 
 3. 
 It is sweet with some kindred spirit to meet 
 
 On the journey of life as we go, 
 Where the pulse of affection shall ceaselessly beat, 
 And where hopes we are cherishing glow. 
 4. 
 
 1 know not a feeling more dear to the mind, 
 A more gently heart -warming beam, 
 
 Than that we derive, when with intellect join'd, 
 
 Is the converse of those we esteem. 
 5. 
 When we first heard Eliza, her gentle words fell 
 
 As though music were witching the ear,
 
 48 TASTE. 
 
 And the soul, as by magic, was bound with a spell, 
 Like the bird with its mate singing near. 
 
 6. 
 
 The beauties of " Scott" she went o'er with delight, 
 But her brother would talk of his hogs, 
 
 And yawning, he started, and said " It is night ; 
 It were time to look after the dogs." 
 
 7- 
 
 At ten, he must forth to a merry-night go, 
 
 To see villagers dance in a ring, 
 Where the bowl with its foam will abundantly flow T , 
 
 And where John the old piper will sing. 
 8. 
 Let the gay in voluptuous pleasures delight, 
 
 And with ardour their revels pursue, 
 'Tis a day that might sink in a sorrowful night, 
 
 Like a star in a cloud dropping dew. 
 9. 
 How meagre and gross are those random pursuits, 
 
 When beheld through the glass of a mind 
 Whose favourite repast are those elegant fruits 
 
 Which in learning's pure circle we find !
 
 THE CHOICE. 49 
 
 THE CHOICE. 
 
 High-life, though beauteous as the light 
 That gilds the shadowy track of night, 
 
 Where darkling waters roll, 
 Wears too much chilly, stiff restraint, 
 Too much of coquetry and paint, 
 
 Too little of the soul. 
 2. 
 Low-life may have its " humble good," 
 Souls that may combat penury's flood 
 
 And smile amid the strife ; 
 But there, the intellect confln'd 
 Shows not those flowrets of the mind 
 
 Which scent and sweeten life. 
 3. 
 And who shall be that flippant thing, 
 Who, guided still by fancy's wing, 
 
 Would be what it is not ? 
 Now aping great ones, now the clown, 
 Trying all gestures but its own : 
 Here met by laughter, there a frown, 
 
 But finds no resting spot. 
 4. 
 Though beauties vernal smile around, 
 Amid seclusion-haunts profound, 
 
 Who'd spend his being there? 
 
 G
 
 50 THE CHOICE. 
 
 Was Man not for his fellow made ? 
 Flows there no balm in friendship's aid ? 
 
 No solace of our care ? 
 5. 
 Give me, kind powers who rule our fates !- 
 That state in life that but awaits 
 
 The cheerful and the free ; 
 Where flows the brilliant joke and glass, 
 And smiling sits the school-taught lass 
 
 All sparkling at the glee. 
 6. 
 I would not mark ! o'erleap the line 
 Which truth and modesty combine 
 
 Their moral aids to form : 
 The mariner prefers the gale 
 That swells, but ruffles not, the sail, 
 
 There's peril in the storm. 
 
 7- 
 
 Should I regard the nuptial tie, 
 Be thou my mate, in virtues eye 
 
 What virtue-' might approve ; 
 Still to my friends and kindred kind, - 
 To all my little foibles blind, 
 Of manners gentle as thy mind, 
 
 A fountain-flow of love. 
 8. 
 Life having thus found out its charm, 
 With friends intelligent and warm 
 
 How must the moments flee !
 
 CHIRK. 51 
 
 With means to ease the poor man's fate 
 And hold me fearless of the great, 
 Would you not envy me ? 
 
 CHIRK,* 
 
 A POEM. 
 
 Tis not thy ancient towers nor massive walls, 
 Thy bending forests, nor thy spacious halls, 
 Nor wide-extending parks, where herding deer 
 And merry lambkins crop the vernal year ; 
 Sweet spot ! which now I sing, those themes belong 
 The bard who better knows descriptive song : 
 There he may warble all the live-long day, 
 And find fresh beauties for his favourite lay. 
 Touch'd with the theme, Britannia's dear delight, 
 I sing the growth and spread of moral light, 
 
 * Chirk is a small village, beautifully situated on the northern bor- 
 der of Denbighshire, surrounded with forest scenery and coal 
 mines. The castle is a very ancient and noble structure ; the Lady 
 of which, viz. Mrs. Myddleton Biddulph, in 1824, erected a hand- 
 some School in the village for the Free Education of the children in 
 the parish. This, together with means previously adopted, has had 
 a visible effect in the improvement of the moral character of the 
 neighbourhood. A select number of children are taken from the 
 school, who constitute the choir of the church. 1 he author of this 
 Poem has frequently listened to their sweet voices with great 
 pleasure.
 
 52 
 
 CHIRK. 
 
 The sway of learning on old Ceiriog's shore, 
 Where mental darkness long had reign'd before. 
 Fain would the muse those cheerless days pass by, 
 When irreligion vaunted in her cry, 
 And smiling nature in her robe of green, 
 Encheer'df with music, pass'd as though unseen ; 
 When ' ' Summer suns" with ripening blessings glow'd, 
 And men regardless car'd not whence they flow'd : 
 When Autumn spread her bounties o'er the land, 
 And hearts ungrateful took them at her hand ; 
 Deep wrapt in gloom when winter's howling blast 
 Came rushing forth and o'er these vallies past, 
 And we unmindful of a guardian power, 
 Mark'd not its presence in the volant hour ; 
 When midnight bacchanals brawl'd o'er the bowl, 
 And sabbaths rung with imprecations foul ; 
 When social intercourse gave place to strife, 
 And dead to numbers was the Book of Life. 
 
 Recount no more ; far be those days behind : 
 A morn more genial dawns upon the mind. 
 Hark ! on the ear young cherub voices rise, 
 Which, borne in anthems, swell upon the skies. 
 See the fond mother bending o'er her son, 
 His infant lips new-taught " Thy will be done," 
 View too the modest air and sober mien, 
 The love for pastors and the garment clean. 
 
 f " No sweet remain of life cnchcers the sight." Kirk White.
 
 CHIRK. 53 
 
 And mark the bright enquiring eye of youth 
 Intensely bent upon the page of truth. 
 O how the heart at every period glows ! 
 How sweet to drink the rock-stream as it flows ! 
 And then again, behold the youth's desire 
 Impetuous, flush 'd with emulative fire ; 
 Wide to his view is spread the field of fame, 
 He reads, enraptur'd, many a glorious name : 
 Shakspeare, and Milton, Otway, Thompson, Burns, 
 Homer, and Virgil, fire his mind by turns : 
 And, ardent now, his youthful soul aspires 
 E'en to the flame that lights the patriot's fires. 
 Thrice happy change ! now he delights to rove 
 Where evening zephyrs fan the tale of love, 
 And young-eyed friendship, generous and refin'd, 
 Unfolds the balmy essence of her mind : 
 Music's sweet tones, mellifluent and clear, 
 Which float around, now charm his listening ear. 
 High, on the mountain's brow he takes his stand, 
 Surveying nature's wonder-working hand, 
 Or, in the vale, the rising hills between, 
 Selecting beauties for his pencil keen. 
 
 Now wrapt in thought he studies nature's laws, 
 And, seeing effects, tries to point out their cause : 
 Or with a Neivton, truth's abyss to sound, 
 Plunges in mathematic depths profound ; 
 Thence issuing, with a Ferguson surveys 
 Yon lunar orb reflect the solar blaze.
 
 54 ON HEARING A BLACKBIRD SING. 
 
 Hail Erudition ! soul-expanding power, 
 Companion meet of life's progressing hour ! 
 O teach us how to ornament the land 
 Where once a Myddleton, of spirit bland, 
 His bounty shower'd ! And teach us to revere 
 The hand which now bestrews thy blessings here ! 
 So shall we live upon the scroll of fame. 
 And future thousands bless a Biddulph's name. 
 
 ON HEARING A BLACKBIRD SING, 
 
 On the 4th of December, 1826. 
 
 Lone warbler ! well I know thy note, though now 
 
 It comes not on the balmy gale of spring, 
 
 Nor from the green wood's sweet embowering shade, 
 
 Nor with that full, unfettered melody 
 
 Which, floating on the breeze of vernal eve, 
 
 Flows on the ravish'd ear of nature's child, 
 
 As lone he walks by grove or winding stream, 
 
 Where all is music, gaiety, and peace. 
 
 Amid this scene, where desolation's arm 
 
 Far stretching, holds its gloom-inspiring sway, 
 
 Where roars the hurrying flood, and cheerless all 
 
 Woods, mountains, vales, and leafless groves appear ; 
 
 And now, that o'er the hyperborean hills 
 
 The tempest mustering threatens man with woe,
 
 ON HEARING A BLACKBIRD SING. 55 
 
 Say Warbler ! say what lures thee to the song ? 
 
 Is it the note of gratitude to heaven 
 
 For that brief sunbeam, which, though transient, 
 
 glow'd 
 And, shooting through the gloom of nature's 
 
 sadness, 
 Seem'd only to direct its rays to thee ? 
 Or, hast thou some instinctive power within, 
 That, whispering, says a bard is passing by, 
 And thou would'st gladly cheer his loneliness, 
 Or wake his muse to emulate thy lay ? 
 Sweet bird ! I thank thee for the pleasing theme ! 
 Thou mind'st me of the "still small voice" of truth, 
 When first it trembled on an heathen shore ; 
 Thine soon shall mingle with the teeming spring, 
 And this is gathering fast. O for that day 
 When Christian, Turk, and Jew, shall feel its power, 
 And giving to the winds dark error's robe, 
 Creation's vast expanse shall own a Saviour's name !
 
 56 ELEGIAC STANZAS. 
 
 ELEGIAC STANZAS, 
 
 WRITTEN ON THE DEATH OF THE AUTHOR'S WlFE, WHO 
 DIED DECEMBER, 2, 1827- 
 
 And was it not enough that I should know, 
 
 Ere yet three moons had run their short career, 
 
 The withering weight of thy repeated blow 
 
 Which laid two valued friends upon the bier,* 
 
 But that thou should 'st in threefold force appear 
 
 Oh death ! and blast my half-returning joys ? 
 
 Could'st thou not rest one solitary year 
 
 Beneath the covering of thy sable guise, 
 
 Which saved awhile from tears these sorrow-smitten 
 
 eyes? 
 
 2. 
 
 I see the busy wheels of traffic roll, 
 
 And man on man high-sounding names bestow ; 
 
 I see ambition's offspring rise and fall, 
 
 And the rich streams of wit's young spirit flow ; 
 
 I see the flash of fashion come and go, 
 
 Intent upon or thwarted of its glee, 
 
 And the long dazzling trains of wealth below ; 
 
 I hear the sound of waking minstrelsy 
 
 And music's vocal swell; but what are these to Me? 
 
 3. 
 
 Lone, on an isolated spot of earth, 
 
 Where bends some aged, tempest-blighted tree, 
 
 * A much-beloved sister and a brother-in-law.
 
 ELEGIAC STANZAS. 57 
 
 Whose form inspires the opposite of mirth, 
 I'd sit, and, Mary ! think, oh ! think on Thee, 
 And of those hours of tenderness, when we, 
 By dear appointment, from the morning bed 
 Would trace the lawn and catch creation's glee ; 
 Or, when at eve our walks with flowers were spread, 
 Whose light, elastic stems " scarce bent beneath" 
 
 thy tread. 
 
 4. 
 
 In life's fair day-spring, when the heart was light, 
 
 The passions ardent and the eye was fire, 
 
 When thine would kindle to a lustre bright 
 
 At the weak music of my feeble lyre ; 
 
 When all this heart was thine, and thy desire 
 
 Was but with mine each secret thought to blend, 
 
 When others' converse might thy patience tire, 
 
 And thou would'st tell it to thy bosom friend, 
 
 I caught the gathering bliss, but dreamt not of its 
 
 end. 
 
 5. 
 
 Nor dreamt I, mid the flow of wedded bliss, 
 
 When eager flock 'd our little-ones around 
 
 With arms outstretch'd to share the wonted kiss 
 
 Before repose their nightly slumbers crown'd ; 
 
 Nor, as we listened to the sabbath-sound 
 
 Of their sweet voices, and I saw the glow 
 
 Of heavenly rapture all thy looks surround, 
 
 Ah no ! I dreamt not as these charms would flow 
 
 That their mild current ran so near the cup of woe. 
 
 H
 
 58 ELEGIAC STANZAS. 
 
 6. 
 
 Had I not tasted bliss, I had not now 
 Upon the lee- shore of my hopes been cast, 
 Nor would this spirit, thus nigh broken, bow 
 At the quick coming of privation's blast, 
 Nor would this heart revert to feelings past, 
 Nor yearn o'er you, my darlings, at your play, 
 Who know not yet how long this stroke shall last, 
 But meet, light bounding, each returning day, 
 Unconscious of the spears which lurk along your 
 wav. 
 
 7. 
 
 Yes, thou art gone ! and now the blustering storms 
 Of midnight revel o'er thy lowly bed, 
 And thou regardest not their threatening forms, 
 Nor the soft utterance of my nightly tread, 
 Nor e'en those eye-drops on thy covering shed, 
 While round their sire thy babes in silence creep ; 
 Sweet babes ! they marvel at these heaps of dead ; 
 They know not of this dark, sepulchral sleep, 
 Nor whence the 'wildering cause which makes their 
 parent weep. 
 
 8. 
 
 But yet a little longer, let thy stream 
 
 O Time ! pursue its ravage- working way, 
 
 And they shall wake from out this infant dream, 
 
 Amid the dawning of perception's day ; 
 
 And when to that accumulating ray
 
 ELEGIAC STANZAS. 
 
 59 
 
 The ever-shifting hue of life appears, 
 
 My sweets shall catch this tremor of our clay, 
 
 And, as they watch the wreck of passing years, 
 
 Their wonderment shall be the barrenness of tears. 
 
 9. 
 
 Soft ! heard you not a seraph-speaking voice 
 
 That pierc'd the lonely silence of the tomb ? 
 
 It is! it is the angel-peal " Rejoice" 
 
 Breaks on the night and dissipates its gloom. 
 
 I feel the beams of Hope celestial come : 
 
 Away ye shadows of desponding thought ! 
 
 That Power which gives to beauty's cheek its bloom, 
 
 And from chaotic depths existence brought, 
 
 Shall He not take His own ? his own by sufFring 
 
 bought. 
 
 10. 
 
 Hark ! from the confines of " heaven's blissful seat" 
 
 Again a voice familiar seems to speak, 
 
 A voice once dear but now more purely sweet, 
 
 Yet still the sound of admonition meek : 
 
 " Go, search the Word, and in a Saviour seek 
 
 "Where can alone be found the Spirit's bread ; 
 
 " Forth from the trammels of these sorrows break, 
 
 " Rest on His expiating wounds thy head ; 
 
 " Their blood was spilt for thee, and what hast thou 
 
 to dread ? 
 
 11. 
 
 " Ah ! when thou view'st this holy, sapphire shore, 
 
 "And hear'st its shining myriad minstrels play,
 
 60 ON THE DEATH OF A SISTER. 
 
 " Then shall thy peaceful spirit weep no more, 
 " But mount, as on the naming wings of day, 
 " Fledg'd for the concert of a heavenly lay: 
 " Far distant then shall be the sting of pain, 
 ' This waving hand shall beckon thee away, 
 'This voice, new-ton'd, shall aid the seraph-strain, 
 1 That bids thee welcome Here ! Yes, we shall meet 
 again ! " 
 
 ON THE DEATH OF A BELOVED SISTER, 
 
 who died at gamblesby, in cumberland, 
 Jan. 18th, 1827. 
 
 " Smitten friends 
 Are angels sent on errands full of love, 
 For us they sicken, and for us they die. 
 And shall they sicken, shall they die in rain ? 
 
 Young. 
 
 1. 
 
 As roll the salt waves of the bark-heaving ocean, 
 Which press on each other to break on the shore, 
 
 So sorrow's deep drops, with their fountain in motion, 
 As urgently now the eye-coverlets o'er.
 
 ON THE DEATH OF A SISTER. 61 
 
 2. 
 
 I think of the days of our lore-gleaning duty, 
 And the heart-knitting scenes of the years that 
 are gone, 
 I think of thy mind's growing sweetness and beauty, 
 And the drops of the fountain will ever roll on. 
 3. 
 I heard not thy last feeble efforts to bless me, 
 
 I caught not the balm of thy life-ebbing breath, 
 I felt not that hand, ever eager to press me, 
 As its pulse-flutter fled at the quiver of Death. 
 
 4. 
 But there was an Arm that did aid and sustain thee, 
 
 That came in its mind-healing attributes drest, 
 That did chase the world's care-giving thoughts which 
 might pain thee, 
 And finally bore thy sweet spirit to rest.
 
 62 
 
 SPRING. 
 
 1. 
 
 Now Spring cometh on with her foliage and flowers, 
 
 And dons the gay meadows with green ; 
 She comes to enliven our streamlets and bowers, 
 
 And to wake the perfume of the bean : 
 2. 
 But what does she bring to the mem'ry of those 
 
 Who have tasted privation's abyss ? 
 The gales that have lull'd the fond breast to repose 
 
 Whistle wild o'er the wreck of its bliss. 
 3. 
 The lark soars aloft with her sky-kissing note, 
 
 As the morning comes all mantling along, 
 And youth drinks the balm of her tones as they float, 
 
 Not aware there's a sting in the song. 
 4. 
 When I see the green buds on the thorn-bushes smile, 
 
 And the garden-gems round me appear, 
 There shall feelings arise in this bosom the while, 
 
 That will only subside with a tear. 
 5. 
 Oh, ye zephyrs of eve ! still your sweetness impart, 
 
 I could dwell 'midst the odours you bring ; 
 Did you tell not of those who so dear to the heart 
 
 Gave a smile to the beauty of spring.
 
 SPRING. 
 
 63 
 
 6. 
 
 And yet, gentle Spring, tho' thy far- spreading blush 
 
 May recal what to memory is dear, 
 Though the tear at thy tints may be prompted to gush, 
 
 I could wish thou forever wert here. 
 
 7. 
 
 There are soul-lifting themes in thy bounteous advance, 
 
 And thy woods sing the coming of joy ; 
 One may catch a young bliss at the primrose's glance, 
 
 That the world cannot give or destroy. 
 8. 
 At thy smile the sweet glow of affection awakes 
 
 From the bed of its infant repose, 
 And beauty new fire to its witchery takes 
 
 When adorn'd with its emblem, the rose. 
 9. 
 How barren that heart that can haste by thy streams, 
 
 Where their dimples the angler invite, 
 
 That can range where the sun sheds his life-warming 
 beams, 
 
 And yet taste not some thrill of delight ! 
 10. 
 The eye that shall gaze but shall view not thy charms, 
 
 Unto beauty impervious must be, 
 And that heart must be steePd to love's gentle alarms 
 
 That can find not her semblance in thee.
 
 64 DEATH OF CANNING. 
 
 LINES 
 
 Written on pirst hearing of the Death of the 
 Right Hon. George Canning. 
 
 It came like the night-sound of Death on mine ear, 
 
 On the wings of the wind it is gone ; 
 Nor shall ocean impede its grief- waking career, 
 
 Nor the smile-scathing blast of its tone. 
 At that sound the wing'd spirit of poesy droops, 
 
 And alone to her covert she flies, 
 Whilst the high crest of learning in languishment 
 stoops, 
 
 And the Genius of Eloquence dies. 
 
 HOME. 
 
 To Hannah. 
 
 1. 
 
 O come ! and forever my cottage adorn, 
 My soul-cheering boast and my pride ; 
 I'd care not a straw for the finger of scorn, 
 For pride's haughty bearing, or slander new born, 
 Nor for envy's barb'd arrows and rankling thorn, 
 My lov'd one, with thee at my.side.
 
 HOME. 65 
 
 2. 
 
 They know not the soft-breathing freshness of Bliss, 
 
 Who from Home ever seek her retreat ; 
 They shall go where each gale may salute with a kiss, 
 May banquet with fame, nor encounter a hiss, 
 They may plunge into pleasure's wide, whirling abyss, 
 Nor yet the heart's peace-giver meet. 
 
 3. 
 
 To what does the spur of our ardour belong 
 
 As we pass thro' the perils of life ? 
 What makes the tar sing the rough billows among ? 
 The soldier to hurl his red carnage along ? 
 Oh, is it not something bewitching and strong 
 
 In the language of Home and of Wife ? 
 
 4. 
 
 Give, give me to taste that felicity found 
 
 Where the home-voice of welcome is heard! 
 And the votaries of fashion may nutter around, 
 The yeoman may talk of his horse and his hound, 
 And the miser may stand by his gold-coffer's sound, 
 As a schoolboy would list to his bird. 
 
 5. 
 
 Hark ! what means that gladness, that romp, and 
 that rout, 
 I ne'er heard such mirth I declare ; 
 O see ! 'tis a wife with her babes who are out, 
 Dear me, how the young things are running about !
 
 G(J HOME. 
 
 There, there ! one is down ! bless that laugh and 
 
 that shout, 
 I dare say at night, nay, there's scarcely a doubt, 
 One might find all those sweet ones at prayer. 
 6. 
 The storm had been up at a terrible rate, 
 
 When the husband, well pelted with rain, 
 And with cheeks well-nigh blister'd, return'd to his 
 
 mate ; 
 He heard, and he felt, all the prattle elate, 
 And dear was the smile which his own might create, 
 As he said, " I am with you again." 
 
 7- 
 
 Oh ! life is a pleasure, my lov'd one, with thee, 
 
 And smooth is the path we shall go ; 
 The evening-breeze fanning the shores of the sea, 
 The night-tones of music, the clamour of glee, 
 Are sweet in their places as sweetness may be ; 
 
 But ah ! not like that which we know.
 
 ON HEARING A REDBREAST SING. 67 
 
 e 
 
 ON HEARING A REDBREAST SING IN THE 
 CHURCH, DURING DIVINE SEVICE. 
 
 1. 
 
 Though surly Winter's piercing sting 
 
 May force thee from the fold, 
 Thou here art welcome, little thing, 
 
 To shield thyself from cold. 
 2. 
 When on the moral world a gloom 
 
 And with threat'ning tempests bear, 
 Like thee, we seek the sacred dome, 
 
 And find a refuge there. 
 3. 
 Bird of the storm! thy notes prolong, 
 
 And aid the choir divine, 
 The solemn, deep, and sacred song, 
 
 Is not profan'd by thine. 
 4. 
 Ye wandering few, who cease to seek 
 
 The spot that once ye knew, 
 To you in shame he seems to speak, 
 
 While thus he sings for you. 
 5. 
 And ye who form the tuneful choir 
 
 That hails the gladsome day,
 
 68 ON HEARING A REDBREAST SING. 
 
 Catch but the little songster's fire, 
 And pure shall be your lay. 
 6. 
 
 Should darkness veil the mental eye, 
 Like him with eager flight 
 
 Quick to the gospel windows fly, 
 And flutter for the light. 
 
 7. 
 
 Poor Robin! when the spring resumes 
 
 Her blood-reviving powers, 
 Then thou wilt spread thy little plumes, 
 
 And seek her fostering bowers. 
 8. 
 So may we, when life's storms subside, 
 
 Be ready for the plains, 
 Where bliss still rolls her swelling tide, 
 
 And spring eternal reigns !
 
 TEARS. 
 
 TEARS. 
 
 1. 
 
 He went, 'twas my friend, to a distant shore, 
 And since have we hop'd, as we hoped before, 
 
 He might die where his relatives dwell ; 
 At the moment of parting we something did say 
 Of times that were past, and of scenes far away ; 
 But the most of that hour which I bear to this day 
 
 Are the Tear-drops of Friendship that fell. 
 
 2. 
 
 From home 'twas my lot to wander awhile, 
 I courted, but found not prosperity's smile, 
 
 And return'd to my Father's surprise ; 
 I ne'er shall forget an occurrence that day, 
 When my dear little Sister came in from her play, 
 "My Brother!" she cried, and she clasp'd me 
 straightway, 
 
 It was joy that ran out at her eyes. 
 
 3. 
 
 Should a friend I have trusted neglect me, 
 The word "he has ceas'd to respect me" 
 
 Might kindle resentment within : 
 He is told with what thoughts I am burning, 
 Regret fills his bosom while learning, 
 He weeps, and where then is my spurning ? 
 Or where shall my vengeance begin ?
 
 70 TEARS. 
 
 4. 
 
 There is beauty in Tears that are streaming, 
 Where nature, unsullied and beaming, 
 
 Appears at their crystalline start ; 
 Words oft are with various meanings replete, 
 A Sigh may awake from the breast of deceit ; 
 But Tears such as these have an eloquence sweet, 
 
 For theirs is the speech of the Heart. 
 5. 
 But there is an eye-gem that melts, that fires, 
 That soothes in affliction, in danger inspires, 
 
 Its rays have connexion with heaven ; 
 It waters your couch when you seem in distress, 
 It kindles to fury when Men would oppress ; 
 Should you frown/ tis more lovely thanlove's loveliness, 
 
 And to Woman alone it is given.
 
 ON HEARING A FAREWELL SERMON. 71 
 
 On hearing the "FAREWELL SERMON" 
 
 of the Rev. W. Evans op Llanymynech, Shropshire, on 
 
 HIS LEAVING THE CURACY OF THAT VILLAGE. 
 
 What prompts the step to tread the courts of Truth, 
 The ear to listen to her searching voice ? 
 Say not that it is formal all and void. 
 There is a tie beyond external form 
 That guides the step and draws the listening ear. 
 Hark! thro' the stillness of that sacred dome, 
 How sweetly swells the hymning voice of Praise, 
 Breaking the solemn silence of the morn : 
 More solemn thence, and waking in the mind 
 Devotion's tender, animating fire, 
 Furnishing new-fledg'd pinions to the soul, 
 And opening on the heart's enlarged view 
 The mansions of the New Jerusalem, 
 Where round the Throne adoring Angels tune 
 Their harps harmonious as the listening spheres, 
 And where, in one wide universal song, 
 To^Him who reigns and to the Lamb forever, 
 Myriads on myriads join, where all is love 
 And every heart and every tongue is praise. 
 Hear then that deeply earnest speaking voice, 
 Pour'd forth in accents suppliant and meek, 
 Invoking on a people, favour'd much,
 
 72 ON HEARING A FAREWELL SERMON. 
 
 The choisest blessings of Omnipotence, 
 Heaven's Love and "Mercy fair," fixing on high 
 The attentive mind, and where our errors flow 
 Pointing their source, and blessed antidote, 
 The blood of Calvary : and when befitting 
 Awful and deep, clothed in Majesty 
 Speaking the thunders, of avenging Heaven ; 
 Strengthening the weak, encouraging the strong, 
 Fostering the babes and sucklings ; flaming out 
 Girt with the mandates of eternity ; 
 Or, gentle as an harbinger of peace, 
 Tracing the love, humility, and tears, 
 And death-disarming miracles of Him 
 Who with amazing brightness robed the mount; 
 Himself in glory wrapt, the man of griefs, 
 " Who had not where to lay his sinless head;" 
 Guiding the young, and on the furrow'd brow 
 And whitened head pouring the oil of gladness. 
 'Tis these, and sweetly-breathing numbers more 
 Of soul-endearing offices of love, 
 Which bind the hearts of Pastor and his flock, 
 And lead them gently on to bowers of song, 
 Of bliss substantial, harmony and peace. 
 Hail sacred tie! form'd by the secret hand 
 Of silent- working heaven. Nor art thou broke, 
 Tho' thro' the tremulous air the word "Farewell" 
 Hath breath'd its whispering accent on our ear. 
 Thou art not broke ; witness those gentle tears
 
 ON HEARING A FAREWELL SERMON. 73 
 
 Which falling brighten'd many a manly cheek. 
 Yok'd with the wheels of Time day follows day, 
 Month follows month, and year succeeds to year, 
 Scattering the worm of canker in their course, 
 But while the spirit of Devotion breathes, 
 Thy mild attaching influence shall remain ; 
 While Virtue lives thy tender form must stand 
 A link essential in the moral world, 
 The Father's pride, the Mother's ornament, 
 The Child's unconscious mind-engaging sway : 
 For, with thy smile, the immortal things of man, 
 His bliss, his hope, connected stand or fall. 
 Shine out bright sun of feelings such as these ! 
 Be lasting as the mind's ethereal beam ! 
 Cease not e'en with expiring nature's groan ! * 
 Cherish them youth ! age make them thy delight ! 
 And you, the guardians of the moral tie, 
 Arm'd with the light and sevenfold shield of truth, 
 Looking to Him the meek and lowly one, 
 Inculcate in your lives their sacred glow : 
 So shall ye prove, amid opposing fire 
 When peril threatens and the foeman strikes, 
 A Nation's glory, ornament, and strength. 
 
 * The following extract, illustrative of this subject, is from an 
 excellent work recently published by the Rev. John East, M. A. 
 entitled "The Village." 
 
 " Long may the privilege be continued to our Village, and while 
 the doctrine of salvation " drops as the rain and distils, like the dew," 
 upon the souls of the hearers, may ministers and their congregations 
 rejoice together in their common happiness and mutual hopes. Then 
 
 K
 
 74 WESTMORLAND. 
 
 WESTMORLAND. 
 
 1. 
 
 Would you know that Eden, where 
 Nature's choisest beauties are? 
 Where her gentlest zephyrs blow ? 
 Where her sweetest rivers flow 
 Mildly streaming? take your stand 
 Mid the Vales of Westmorland. 
 
 2. 
 
 Would you taste a thought sublime ? 
 Leave her Vales, her Mountains climb. 
 View their huge-heads darkly lowering, 
 Lakes beneath, and torrents pouring 
 Tumbling awfully, as grand ? 
 These are scenes of Westmorland. 
 
 when they shall all have passed into eternity, with what unut- 
 terable joy will they look back to the hours which they spent in 
 expounding and hearing the word of God, and experiencing its 
 blessing. The feebleness of our memory now soon looses hold of 
 what for the time impresses our hearts. It will be one fruitful source 
 of heavenly bliss, that our faculty of remembrance will then be 
 renewed and perfected, so as to recall with exact fidelity, not only 
 the prominent events of life, but even the history of our spiritual 
 impressions and experience : as a molton mirror which has long been 
 dimmed, and imperfectly performed its office, is repolished and 
 rendered capable of reflecting every image with clearness and 
 fidelity."
 
 WESTMORLAND. 7*> 
 
 3. 
 
 Where is Genius ? tell me where ? 
 Hark ! I hear her accents there. 
 Lo! she spreads her glowing wings, 
 Hovering where a Wordsworth sings, 
 Take the laurel at her hand ; 
 Home of Genius, Westmorland, 
 
 4. 
 
 What is worth? Behold display 'd 
 Her Sons by honest feelings sway'd. 
 First to wreathe the child of rhyme, 
 First in valour, last in crime ; 
 Manly, generous, social, bland: 
 Such are thine, O Westmorland! 
 
 5. 
 
 Search the world of beauty through 
 For loveliest forms of every hue : 
 Find the seat of chaste desire, 
 Lips of ruby, eyes of fire, 
 And you'll tell, as once you stand, 
 Beauty's home is Westmorland. 
 
 6. 
 
 I have heard the hunters' cry, 
 From the burst of spirits high 
 On a southern noon-gale borne ; 
 But the voice, the hound, the horn, 
 Lack'd thy music-teeming land, 
 Seat of Echo, Westmoreland.
 
 76 
 
 WESTMORLAND. 
 
 7. 
 
 Far, where eyes were new to mine, 
 
 Once I met a son of thine j 
 
 Intently he gaz'd as we nearer drew, 
 
 And no wonder he did, 'twas a face he knew. 
 
 "My friend!" he exclaimed, and his cheek was 
 
 flush'd 
 With a glow of surprise, and the bright tearnish'd 
 To the eyelids brim as he gave his hand, 
 And our hearts were both in Westmorland. 
 
 8. 
 I have felt it sweet at eve 
 To view the sprayless ocean heave, 
 Whilst the sun far shot his rays, 
 And the eye could rest upon the blaze, 
 And the breeze as it came the hush'd billows o'er 
 Was breathing its balm on the quiet shore ; 
 But sweeter were the gales which fann'd 
 My love and I in Westmorland. 
 
 9. 
 Little spot ! 'tis sweet to see 
 The eye of learning turn'd to thee ; 
 Others clothed in phrase sublime 
 May start a doubting creed in rhyme, 
 Thine have only felt the pride 
 With truth to labour side by side: 
 Snatching their brightness from her hue, 
 Their girdle and their weapon too. 
 Impregnable forever stand, 
 Shield of virtue, Westmorland.
 
 THE EYE OF BURNS. 77 
 
 WRITTEN ON READING 
 
 SIR WALTER SCOTT'S DESCRIPTION OF THE 
 EYE OF BURNS THE POET.* 
 
 That was a moment, Walter, when the eye 
 Of Scotia's Genius cast a ray on thine 
 That might employ a pencil from the sky 
 To paint the glow alternately divine : 
 Tho' in description it but came to mine, 
 There seem'd a flash of such a soul-lit fire 
 That, were the heart in poesy supine, 
 Might with new energies its pulse inspire, 
 Call thoughts in embryo forth and wake their 
 dormant lyre. 
 
 It was a moment when that Bard of light, 
 But little deem'd on whom he glanc'd upon ; 
 So Cynthia, riding thro' the dun of night, 
 As little deems her rays shall be outdone 
 By the near lustre of a morning sun. 
 Ah ! had he known how would his glowing mind 
 Have wak'd its raptures at the sight of one 
 Whose future genius a new world should find, 
 Where One alone must tread (great thought !) of all 
 mankind. 
 
 *The following is an extract of alette- written by the, now deeply 
 lamented Baronet. (From the Life of Burns, in Constable's Mis- 
 cellany.) "As for Burns I may truly say, Virgilium vidi tantum. I was
 
 78 THE CLUSTER OF TWO. 
 
 THE CLUSTER OF TWO. 
 
 1. 
 
 There is not a nut in that green-nut tree 
 That looks half so fair, half so lovely to me, 
 
 Or that hangs so inviting to view 
 As that one social bunch just approaching to brown, 
 And that seems not to wish for one more than its own ; 
 
 Tis a sweet little cluster of two. 
 
 a lad of 1 5 in 1786-7 when he came first to Edinburgh, but had sense 
 and feeling enough to be much interested with his poetry, and 
 would have given the world to know him. I saw him one day at 
 the late venerable Professor Fergusson's, where there were several 
 gentlemen of literary reputation, among whom I remember the cele- 
 brated Mr. Dugald Stewart. Burns in person was strong and 
 robust ; his manners rustic, not clownish ; a sort of dignified plain- 
 ness and simplicity, which received part of its effect, perhaps, from 
 one's knowledge of his extraordinary talent3. His features are repre- 
 sented in Mr. Naysmith's picture, but to me it conveys the idea 
 that they are diminished as if seen in perspective. I think his 
 countenance was more massive than it looks in any of the portraits. 
 I would have taken the poet, had I not known what he was, for a 
 sagacious country farmer of the old Scots school, i. e. none of your 
 modern agriculturists, who keep labourers for their drudgery, but 
 the douce gudeman who held his own plough. There was a strong 
 expression of sense and shrewdness in all his linaments ; the eye 
 alone, I think, indicated the poetical character and temperament. 
 It was large, and of a dark cast, which glowed (I say literally 
 glowed) when he spoke with feeling or interest. I never saw such
 
 THE CLUSTER OF TWO. 7^ 
 
 2. 
 
 I have marked, when taking a three or a four, 
 That a part of their number were dead at the core 
 
 Whilst their husks were all dying away ; 
 And the rest, as though life had but newly begun, 
 Were spreading their red-ripening heads to the sun, 
 
 Quite regardless of those in decay. 
 
 3. 
 
 And again I have marked the single one, 
 And all drooping it seemed when gaz'd upon, 
 
 And just ready to drop from its bell ; 
 But when broken, the sight wrought alarm I declare, 
 For the grub had made terrible ravages there, 
 
 And had left little more than the shell. 
 
 4. 
 
 And what are those nuts the large clusters I mean 
 But near emblems of friendship? whose votaries 
 keen, 
 
 another eye in a human head, though I have seen the most distin- 
 guished men of my time. His conversation expressed perfect self- 
 confidence, without the slightest presumption. Among the men 
 who were most learned of their time and country he expressed 
 himself with perfect firmness, hut without the least intrusive for- 
 wardness ; and when he differed in opinion, he did not hesitate to 
 express it firmly, yet at the same time with modesty. I do not 
 remember any part of his conversation distinctly enough to be 
 quoted, nor did I ever see him again, except in the street, where 
 he did not recognize me, as I could not expect he should. He was 
 much caressed in Edinburgh, but (considering what literary emolu- 
 ments have been since his day) the efforts made for his relief were 
 extremely trifling."
 
 80 
 
 THE WITHERED ROSE-BUD. 
 
 Crowd too thick on one perilous stem ; 
 Whilst the single-ones, self-eaten-batchelors be, 
 Who serve but to harass and burthen the tree, 
 
 Including old maidens with them. 
 
 5. 
 
 Ye young men and fair ones, attend and be wise, 
 And the counsel intended pray never despise, 
 
 Tis the best I can offer to you ; 
 If to Friendship and Love the young fancy incline, 
 Would you taste the felicity found at their shrine 
 
 O bend there in clusters of two ! 
 
 THE WITHERED ROSE-BUD. 
 
 Withered rose-bud, blighted flower, 
 The dew in vain shall wet thy leaf, 
 Thy head hath felt the bleak -winds power, 
 And bends an emblem-form of grief. 
 
 2. 
 
 To think upon thy early bloom, 
 The freshness of thy red and green, 
 But sheds a deeper tinge of gloom 
 Around the wreck where they have been.
 
 THE MOUNTAIN LOVERS. 81 
 
 3. 
 
 The tender hand that rear'd thy stem 
 No more its early gems shall greet : 
 The humming fly that sang round them 
 Finds other leaflets for its feet. 
 
 4. 
 Yet here, e'en at the rose-bud's tomb, 
 Shall pensive sadness find relief; 
 She gathers yet a sweet perfume, 
 And then she finds a smile in grief. 
 
 THE MOUNTAIN LOVERS. 
 
 1. 
 
 The winds were loosen'd from their caves, 
 The torrent-falls were pouring, 
 The clouds of heaven were stretching out 
 With darkling aspect lowering. 
 
 2. 
 When Mary on the mountain-brow 
 Stray'd, for her lover calling; 
 The dark storm thickening, deep around, 
 To all but her appalling. 
 
 4. 
 Stray wildly there, thou lonely thing, 
 Thou knowest not half thy sorrow ;
 
 82 COLONIAL SLAVERY. 
 
 For thou a fearful tale shalt know 
 Before the dawn of morrow. 
 
 5. 
 The bitch-wolf bounding o'er the rocks 
 Surprised her lover sleeping, 
 And now bent o'er his mangled corse 
 The shepherd youths are weeping. 
 
 6. 
 Stray wildly there, thou lonely thing, 
 Thou know'st not half thy sorrow : 
 Ah ! thine will be an aching heart 
 Before the dawn of morrow. 
 
 COLONIAL SLAVERY. 
 
 1. 
 
 Oh ! heard you that spirit-rent moan 
 
 As it came o'er the breast of the main ? 
 
 "Tis the cry of the Slave, w T ith its soul-hitting tone;- 
 
 And it comes not in waitings of manhood alone : 
 
 The babe and the feeble-one speak in the groan 
 
 That ascends with the clank of the chain. 
 
 2. 
 Behold you that fair -looking man 
 By the breeze of the sugar-grove fann'd, 
 Who brandishes high the red lash in his van, 
 And who tearless has look'd on the blood as it ran?
 
 COLONIAL SLAVERY. 83 
 
 He says that in Albion his race he began, 
 And he claims for his birth-place her land ! 
 
 3. 
 
 His eyes are as dark as a cloud 
 
 Where the wrath of dread elements meet, 
 
 And the wreck of young feeling lies deep in their 
 
 shroud ; 
 The heart-springs are lock'd, save the base and the 
 
 proud ; 
 He will laugh at Misfortune's recital aloud, 
 Tho' a brother lay stretch'd at his feet. 
 
 4. 
 
 Oh ! is there a youth of the day 
 
 Shall equip for a mission like this ? 
 
 Who would leave the fair scenes of his boyhood 
 
 and play, 
 And give ear to the fiend for the glitter of pay, 
 Dissolving life's tender endearments away 
 At the time they should blossom with bliss ? 
 
 5. 
 
 Fie, fie on the wealth that is got 
 
 From the sweat of the goaded-one's brow, 
 
 That flows from young spirits borne down with 
 
 their lot : 
 The soil that upholds it shall groan with its rot, 
 And the Banner of Freedom shall wave o'er the spot, 
 And the time of its coming is now.
 
 84 
 
 THE BRISTOL RIOTS. 
 
 6. 
 
 Hark ! what is that shout in the air 
 
 That comes like the swell of the sea ? 
 
 That speaketh like Hope to the heart of Despair ? 
 
 That echoes ten thousand young efforts of prayer ? 
 
 Tis the Voice of a Nation j (of justice aware) 
 
 And it cries, " Let the Negro be free!" 
 
 THE BRISTOL RIOTS.* 
 
 1. 
 
 The chariot wheels were rattling to and fro, 
 
 The pageantry of pomp had now begun, 
 
 And Rashness lit up by a ray or so 
 
 Of reason's light, wav'd wildly o'er her Son, 
 
 A fearful race He was about to run ; 
 
 And many a one did wish that day was o'er : 
 
 So, from portentous signs, around the sun 
 
 We watch the thick clouds gathering more and 
 
 more, 
 Till comes the deluge-crash, the wild convulsive roar. 
 
 These riots took place at Bristol, October 29th, 1831, on the 
 occasion of Sir Charles Witherell (the Recorder) making a public 
 entry into that city after the rejection of the Reform Bill by the 
 House of Commons.
 
 THE BRISTOL RIOTS. ' 85 
 
 2. 
 
 The feast Vith buoyant spirit was prepar'd, 
 And tastefully the garnish'd meats were spread, 
 Sweet sounds of music in the hall were heard, 
 And brilliant were the lights within it shed, 
 When suddenly came on the shout of dread 
 Loud yelling, borne with wild impetuous speed ; 
 Red flew the raging fire-brand overhead, 
 The city's pride fell crumbling at the deed, 
 The iron pillars burst before it like a reed. 
 
 3. 
 
 It was the peaceful Sabbath-hour of prayer, 
 
 The wonted hour of love-diffusing light, 
 
 When, issuing forth with fierce unearthly glare, 
 
 The rabble rose, black, reeking from the night ! 
 
 Again the fire-brand flew with horrid flight, 
 
 The fearful citizen appalled stood, 
 
 Crash follow'd crash, the sky gleam'd with affright ; 
 
 The blazing city flar'd upon the flood, 
 
 And told the hellish work of gluttony and blood ! 
 
 4. 
 
 It was the hour of prayer. O sacred day ! 
 Was e'er thy name dishonour'd thus before? 
 Could not the warm beams of thy sunny ray 
 Restrain awhile the foul infuriate roar ? 
 We've known men's moral feelings to run o'er 
 At thy approach, and dim the fiercest eye ; 
 But here the angry yell, the reek of gore,
 
 86 THE BRISTOL RIOTS. 
 
 The scream, the curse, the wail, the dying cry 
 In dread confusion mix'd, rush'd awful on the sky. 
 
 5. 
 Spirit of Evil! thou wert on the spot : 
 Behold the frighful havoc thou hast made ; 
 The wreck of wealth, the palace and the cot, 
 The human ashes in their ruins laid ! 
 Behold the terrors of remorse upbraid 
 Thy rash unguarded sons, the widow's tear, 
 The orphan shrieking for a parent's aid ; 
 Behold a nation tremulous with fear, 
 And the wide-spreading waste of thy unlov'd career. 
 
 6. 
 Enough : thou busy demon of the night ! 
 Fell, brooding parent of the brand and flame ! 
 We want the eye of Peace forth-beaming light, 
 Instilling vigour in our moral frame. 
 Descend, thou glorious Being! and reclaim 
 Thy misled wanderers far gone astray, 
 Awake the blush of self-accusing shame, 
 Hold in thy hand a bright and shining ray, 
 And lead them forth again to industry and day.
 
 THE CORONATION. 87 
 
 ON THE CORONATION 
 
 OF THEIR MAJESTIES 
 
 KING WILLIAM IV. & QUEEN ADELAIDE. 
 
 1. 
 
 In thy records, O Albion! thy days have been bright 
 As the stars that appear thro' the shadows of night; 
 And thy deeds of effulgence, in peace and in war, 
 Still blaze in the vision of nations afar. 
 
 2. 
 Thy high-crested Monarchs, with sword and with 
 
 shield, 
 Have reap'd themselves glory by ocean and field ; 
 And full bright were the diadems over their brow 
 But the best that e'er gemm'd thee shines over us now. 
 
 3. 
 O ! rich are the blessings a Monarch imparts, 
 Whose choice is his people's, whose home is their 
 
 hearts : 
 That home is a rock and a fortress of power ; 
 'Tis a whirlwind of strength in the perilous hour. 
 
 4. 
 See! the banners are spread, and the trumpeter's 
 
 sound 
 With the shout of the song shakes the welkin around ;
 
 88 THE CORONATION. 
 
 Now let gratitude sweetly accord with the strains, 
 For 'tis William, the beacon of Majesty, reigns. 
 
 5. 
 On the wings of the morn a fair herald has flown 
 To the Isles of the West that were spots on the crown ; 
 And there's brightness in eyes that with sadness 
 
 were dim, 
 For the fetters are struck from the manacled limb.* 
 
 6. 
 Lo ! delight like a ray finds the hearts of the brave, 
 Who now boldly erect their stern fronts on the wave ; 
 For the day of their scorn, with its canker, is fled 
 When the stripling might rise o'er the storm- 
 beaten head. 
 
 7. 
 
 Ah ! where would'st thou go, fiend of infidel eyes? 
 Why attempt to uprear thy rash crest to the skies? 
 Dost thou deem the mild eye ever slumbering to be? 
 There is hope of return there is justice for thee. J 
 
 8. 
 Flow on, thou sweet stream of that life-giving fount 
 That healingly issues from Calvary's mount ! 
 While the sceptre of William shall over us shine, 
 Our home is our fortress, our fig-tree and vine. 
 
 * Orders have been sent to emancipate all the Slaves which were 
 the property of The Crown. Lord Althorp's speech in the House of 
 Commons, August, 1831. 
 
 X This stanza was occasioned by the trials of Carlisle and Taylor, 
 which took place about this time, and ended in the conviction of 
 both for blasphemy.
 
 THE CORONATION. 89 
 
 9. 
 
 O " Green Isle of Ocean!" whose pastures among 
 Dwells the spirit of love and the magic of song, 
 We may hope there is gathering a cloud o'er thy sea 
 That shall break in a shower of fresh roses on thee. # 
 
 10. 
 
 From the^North, from the South, from the East and 
 
 the West 
 There issues a voice, like the voice of one breast, 
 For the King and the Queen; and upborne is the 
 
 prayer 
 That a Crown still more glorious awaiteth them there ! 
 
 * An allusion to the second appointment of his excellency the 
 Marquis of Anglesey as Lord Lieutenant of Ireland. 
 
 mm 
 
 M
 
 90 THE ARRIVAL IN WALES OF THE 
 
 WRITTEN ON THE ARRIVAL OF THEIR 
 
 ROYAL HIGHNESSES THE DUCHESS OF KENT 
 AND THE PRINCESS VICTORIA 
 
 IN THE PRINCIPALITY OF 
 
 WALES, 
 
 WHEN COMING ON A VISIT TO CAMBRIA. 
 
 1. 
 
 Hush'd had been the voice of song, 
 Time had o'er its spirit flung 
 The stillness of a dream ; 
 The mountain harp had silence kept, 
 Its tones had on the willow slept 
 As sleeps a polar stream. 
 
 2. 
 See the beacon-blazing lamp ! 
 Hark the horses' martial tramp 
 The plaudit and the shout ! 
 The arching wreathes rise green as May, 
 The banners stream upon Wynnstay 
 And mountain-tops about. 
 
 3. 
 The " Star of Brunswick " meekly high 
 Appears beneath a Cambrian sky, 
 Bright sparkling on its shore :
 
 DUCHESS OF KENT AND THE PRINCESS VICTORIA. 91 
 
 The kindling spirit wakes to song, 
 The salute-thunder rolls along 
 With valley startling roar. 
 4. 
 
 The harp, the harp is heard again! 
 
 Loudly peals the loyal strain 
 
 By Cambrian breezes fann'd : 
 
 Its tones the sleeping hamlets shake, 
 
 And, with its impulse-starts, awake 
 
 The minstrels of the land. 
 
 5. 
 
 Bright-eyed Maid of Royalty ! 
 
 Harp they ? Yea, they harp for thee 
 
 As with a seraph's lyre: 
 
 They view their babes as though thine own, 
 
 And shed around thy hovering crown 
 
 A bright and holy fire. 
 
 6. 
 
 Hark again! another sound 
 
 Breaks sweetly from the hills around, 
 
 The voice of girlish mirth ; 
 
 It sings of what the eye has seen, 
 
 The smiling Mother, future Queen, 
 
 And triumphs in their birth. 
 
 7. 
 
 Long shall grateful bosoms feel 
 The glow, the energetic zeal 
 That marks this joyous hour ;
 
 92 BIRTH-DAY OF THE AUTHOR'S SON. 
 
 It is not couch'd in words alone, 
 It's temple is the spirit's throne 
 Tis love, 'tis hope, 'tis power. 
 
 LINES ON THE BIRTH-DAY OF THE AU- 
 THOR'S INFANT SON. 
 
 Welcome, sunny time of year, 
 
 When fair and lovely things appear, 
 
 The "rippling runnels" round us flowing, 
 
 The garden-gems and roses blowing, 
 
 The evening sola-singing thrush 
 
 From out the rural hawthorn bush, 
 
 The vernal leaf, and blossom fair 
 
 Its fragrance rising in the air, 
 
 The lambkins on the mountains playing, 
 
 The cattle in the pastures straying, 
 
 The woodlands on the banks of Dee 
 
 Teeming with vocal melody 
 
 Proclaim the natal day of joy, 
 
 And breath of thine my cherub-boy ; 
 
 For thine was in the song-bird time, 
 
 The meadows' and the leaflets' prime, 
 
 When drizzly showers on summer-blooms 
 
 Awake their lightly-lock'd perfumes.
 
 BIRTH-DAY OF THE AUTHOR'S SON. 93 
 
 Intently, since, an eye on thee 
 Has mark'd thy budding infancy, 
 Thy dimpling hands and nickering feet, 
 Thy dreamy smiles and slumbers sweet, 
 The first impression-rays of light 
 Upon thy infant dawning sight, 
 Thy flutterless attention mute 
 To the near breathings of the lute, 
 Thy mother's tender fingers prest 
 Upon thy life-sustaining breast, 
 Thy little, blue, upturning eye 
 Feeding her gazing extacy, 
 And then again thy cupid form 
 Amid the morning's watery storm, 
 The whitening foam about thy ears, 
 Thy little eyelid-twinkling fears, 
 The joy at thy appearing teeth, 
 The dimple on thy chin beneath, 
 The lively laughing means to teach 
 The efforts of thy early speech, 
 The glee-shout at thy tottering tread, 
 When by a parent's finger led. 
 
 These, and a thousand more, have been 
 The infant charms that eye has seen ; 
 And fancy on her ardent wing 
 Has made thee still a lovelier thing: 
 To her thy future form appears 
 Fast rising to the bloom of years ;
 
 94 BIRTH-DAY OF THE AUTHOR'S SON. 
 
 Beyond the reach of folly blind 
 
 Blight of the germinating mind 
 
 She sees thee in the spring of youth, 
 
 Pacing the sunny realms of truth, 
 
 Strong in the growing strength of thought, 
 
 By probity and science taught, 
 
 Or snatching with the muse's eye, 
 
 Some glowing spanglet of her sky, 
 
 While gathering early round thy name 
 
 Are rays of love, and e'en of fame : 
 
 For Hope will ne'er discern a blot 
 
 Upon her future radiance-spot : 
 
 She sees thee by thy parents treading, 
 
 The dayspring of thy duty shedding, 
 
 Impell'd at every step to prove 
 
 A sonlike gratitude and love. 
 
 Should sickness threaten round their cup 
 
 To drink the vital current up, 
 
 Hope sees thy hand beneath the frown 
 
 Smoothing their latest pillow down, 
 
 And there, when in their earthly bed, 
 
 She marks thy silent frequent tread, 
 
 And on their rural quiet grave 
 
 Sees flowers of every season wave. 
 
 But, baby dear, 'tis now the prime, 
 
 The very life of joyous time ; 
 
 Thy romping little birth-day band 
 
 Are running ringlets hand in hand :
 
 HARVEST HOME. 95 
 
 Bound thee, bound thee, little thing, 
 Turn thee where the voices sing, 
 Hark! thy mother joins the call, 
 Thrilling thro' the sounding hall 
 "Harper! harper! come away, 
 Mirth is ready, all is gay, 
 Happy and as young as May." 
 
 HARVEST HOME. 
 
 Bright has been the cheering sun: 
 
 Lo! the reaper's work is done. 
 
 Hark ! it is their harvest-shout 
 
 Rings the merry vales about. 
 
 See upon the rising banks 
 
 Form in love-inspiring ranks 
 
 Where the rural groups advance 
 
 Mingling in the rustic dance, 
 
 Waking every minstrel hand, 
 
 Shouting "welcome" through the land. 
 
 Gather, youths, the spirits up 
 
 Drain the overflowing cup. 
 
 All a benefit derives 
 
 Drink to husbands, sweethearts, wives. 
 
 Some may start a vocal storm 
 
 Round the standard of Reform ;'
 
 96 HARVEST H0MF. 
 
 Sounds may gather strength afar 
 'Mid the thunder-crush of war; 
 Your's the festal joy must be, 
 Harp'd by native minstrelsy, 
 And the voice that floats along 
 Shall meet an echo to its song. 
 
 Though along the orchard plains 
 Languidly Pomona reigns, 
 Ceres smiles ; her spreading wings 
 Round your mirth an halo flings: 
 Plumed with hope, she soars on high, 
 And bears your gladness to the sky. 
 
 Now the disencumbered plain 
 Spreads its stubble-breast again, 
 In whose harbour, thickly bristling, 
 Coveys undisturbed lie nestling; 
 With Aurora's early tints 
 Come with copper-caps and flints ; 
 Early come, again I ask; 
 Bring the pellet-belt and flask, 
 Setters, too, but not to quarrel, 
 Pocket -horn and double-barrel; 
 Stilton ripe, and ham from York, 
 Russia tongue and German pork. 
 Furnish'd thus, with spirits gay, 
 Let us to the fields away. 
 
 Pause awhile, and there shall be 
 The Nimrod cry of mountain glee,
 
 HARK AWAY. 1)J 
 
 Opening with the blushing morn, 
 Shouting to the hunter's horn. 
 Tell us not, with rueful face, 
 Of the death-inflicting chase; 
 Of the swamps and rocky steeps, 
 Torrent floods, and peril leaps. 
 Let us have the hunter's bound, 
 Flying horse and pealing hound, 
 Music-tones that never cloy: 
 This is pastime! this is joy! 
 
 "HARK AWAY." 
 
 A JUVENILE PRODUCTION. 
 1. 
 
 When young, I for music would run up and down 
 To concerts and all the fam'd haunts of the town : 
 I heard the grand chorus, the catch and the glee, 
 But somehow this was not the music for me. 
 
 2. 
 
 The harp and the viol are sweet to the ear, 
 
 And the tones of the spring-birds sound mellow 
 
 and clear ; 
 But where is the joy of their harmony, say? 
 When the valley-cry comes from the woods "Hark 
 
 away!" 
 
 N
 
 98 HARK AWAY. 
 
 3. 
 
 The warrior, whose great heart swells high with 
 
 the sound 
 
 That thunders afar from the conflict around, 
 
 Still feels a fresh spark in his bosom to play 
 
 When the early horn wakes to the cry "Hark 
 
 away!" 
 
 4. 
 
 Have you seen the younghorse in his pasture at ease. 
 
 When the cry of the hunters came borne on the 
 
 breeze ? 
 Then you've mark'd the quick impulse, the snort, 
 
 and the neigh, 
 
 As he sprang to the blood-stirring cry ' ' Hark 
 
 away." 
 
 5. 
 
 One Orpheus, they tell us, with harp and with song 
 
 Could e'en make the wild rocks come dancing along ; 
 
 But had the pack pass'd by, where Orpheus did play, 
 
 His audience had rush'd to the cry -"Hark away! " 
 
 6. 
 
 When wide o'er the country the bold-hunters go, 
 
 The pack in full tune, and themselves in a row ; 
 
 It is pleasing to see the milk-damsels so gay, 
 
 With their light-footed bound at the cry " Hark 
 
 away." 
 
 7- 
 
 In his fold, when the husbandman hears the glad 
 
 sound 
 Ringing loud from the hills and the vallies around,
 
 A TALE. 99 
 
 He tears off the plough-gear, bestrides the "old 
 
 grey," 
 And from his full heart bursts the cry "Hark 
 
 away!" 
 
 8. 
 
 Yea, this is the music whose tones can inspire 
 The breast with fresh ardour, the blood with new fire ; 
 The bright eye of youth beams a vigorous ray, 
 Old age drops the crutch at the cry "Hark away ! " 
 
 9. 
 Ye sportsmen so noble ! ye generous throng ! 
 Who love to be shouting the vallies among, 
 May the bowl of your bliss overflow every day, 
 And felicity crown your last shout "Hark away ! " 
 
 THE STEWARD & TOM OF SHAMBRAWERN : 
 
 A TALE FOUNDED ON FACT. 
 
 T\vas the season when people begin to make hay, 
 And the young birds just fledg'd 'gin to perch on the 
 
 spray, 
 When the fruit-yielding orchards their treasures disclose 
 And the morning-dew shines on the cap of the rose, 
 When the farmer all joyous his evening-walk takes 
 To survey a blithe peasantry plying their rakes,
 
 100 A TALE. 
 
 That a Steward whose efforts were never delay 'd 
 To fulfil in all points every promise he made ; 
 Who, tho' not so clever as some, was as big, 
 And had got 'neath his hat something more than his wig ; 
 Who, in fine, was right honest; and what is most true 
 Was belov'd, and "nay start not" was affable too. 
 Observing the clouds at a distance to lower, 
 Which threaten'd to deluge the fields with a shower, 
 And seeing the folks to their hay-meadows flocking, 
 Sent word to his rakers to go on with cocking. 
 They began in a trice, as the story we learn; 
 And among them was seen Tom Shambrawern. 
 Now Tom, though deem'd silly, was more of a cheat, 
 His sayings were shrew'd and with humour replete ; 
 His merry jokes oft sent a shout through the air, 
 And none would rake more should the Bottle be there. 
 Wide over the meadows the haymakers spread ; 
 But Tom, who had got a droll whim in his head, 
 Oft casting a look at the empty canteen, 
 Made up such a hay-cock as seldom is seen : 
 In size it resembled a little oak tree ; 
 Some say it outmeasur'd a buoy on the sea ; 
 And others there are will declare it as soon, 
 That in bulk 'twas more like an inflated balloon. 
 He made up another, but not quite so round, 
 And a third, somewhat smaller all on the same ground. 
 The Steward came up and said, "Bless me! what now? 
 "This baffles my latest experience I vow: 
 " You silly old man, can you tell me for why 
 4< You have made up a hay-cock thus monstrously high?
 
 A TALE. 101 
 
 " Good gracious!" he utter'd, 'tis more like a stack:" 
 
 Then gave a broad hint, as he turned his back, 
 
 That such conduct should certainly meet with the sack. 
 
 " Please your Honor," quoth Tom, "list a moment I pray, 
 
 " And my plan you shall know for the making of hay. 
 
 " 'Tis said, and I oft think the saying is true, 
 
 ' ' That men should have what to their stations be due : 
 
 " So I made this big hay-cock, good Steward, for you; 
 
 " And this," he observ'd, "which is not quite so tall, 
 
 ' ' For the fat little Bailiff who lives at the Hall ; 
 
 " And this, but I bow for not making it higher, 
 
 " Was form'd of the rakings, and made for the 'Squire : 
 
 " Excuse me," quoth Tom, "'tis not mine to bestow it, 
 
 " I mean 'tis the 'Squires if you will allow it." 
 
 Enough! the good Steward no more nonsense would take, 
 
 But instantly bounding, he seized a rake. 
 
 Tom, guessing at what such a symptom reveals, 
 
 Laid hold of his jacket and took to his heels. 
 
 High swollen with ire the offended declar'd, 
 
 Not one bone in the scoundrel's skin should be spar'd ; 
 
 And the rest, who from laughter could scarcely refrain, 
 
 Were threaten'd the like should they giggle again. 
 
 The rain now descending prevented a riot, 
 Dispersed the rakers and clos'd all in quiet.
 
 102 A TALE. 
 
 WONDERS IN THE SPORTING WORLD. 
 
 A TALE. 
 
 It happen'd one evening, just after a chase, 
 That a party of sportsmen came into the place 
 Where I sat, with the news of the day in my gripe, 
 And a pot of good cwrw at hand and a pipe. 
 Full charg'd with the game, all at once they began, 
 To recount each achievement of greyhound and man ; 
 But what form'd the point which all others surpass'd 
 Was the one that gave each the superlative cast ; 
 The first wonder told was the secret of spying; 
 And then came the leaping, the turning, the flying: 
 Not Munchausen himself, who went up to the Moon, 
 Could have topp'd e'en one half of the fences so soon. 
 "Young Smoker," roar'd one, "knows the way how to 
 
 win: 
 "His equal this hour is not wrap'd in a skin." 
 "Hold there ! " cried a blood with his purse-string un- 
 
 furl'd, 
 1 ' This here dog shall run ever a dog in the world : 
 "He's game, Sir, he knows how to tackle a dike, 
 "And shall run that 'ere dog for what ever you like." 
 "Pshaw! nonsense!" another bawl'd lustily out, 
 "You talk, but what is it you're talking about, 
 " Old Charley's the breed, any wager I'll lay 
 "He kills more in an hour than you'll shoot in a day."
 
 A TALE. 103 
 
 Bob Bounceable, catching his darling word shoot, 
 
 Declar'd that his barrel should ever be mute 
 
 If he did not bring more real game to the ground 
 
 Than ever a man in the neighbourhood round. 
 
 He swore by his flints a new piece he had got 
 
 That would kill no one knows what amount at a shot ; 
 
 For no longer ago than that evening he went, 
 
 A covey got up, and right at them he sent, 
 
 Lots fell, tho' he stood full fourscore yards behind 'em, 
 
 And he said the first thing the next morning he'd find 'em . 
 
 "Not a doubt," cried Bill Eclipse, "I once knew a case 
 
 "As like that as may be not far from this place: 
 
 "I shot but the distance was fourscore and ten 
 
 "Some fell dead on the spot and some ran up the glen ; 
 
 "But what was most strange, my prime bitch from the 
 
 South 
 " Brought all the birds home the next day in her mouth." 
 
 A stranger observ'd, who sat biting his thumb, 
 "That sporting to wonderous perfection had come ; 
 "And he'd say, what he oft had been thinking upon, 
 "'Twere as easy to kill with both eyes shut as one" 
 "You are right, Sir," Jack Ramrod declar'd in a trice, 
 "As to sight-taking matters he never was nice ; 
 "For once, whilst his piece o'er his shoulder he'd got, 
 "He let drive, and, my eye! 'twas a 'deuce of a shot, 
 "For when he went back there lay five on the green 
 "Of the finest cock-pheasants that ever were seen. 
 "And once, which was still more peculiar " he said, 
 "He heard something like snipes cry 'escape* o'er his 
 head;
 
 104 A TALE. 
 
 "He struck at his flint, just like striking a docket, 
 "He felt, and a brace had dropped into his pocket" 
 
 Job Slyboots, who sat by the wing of the fire, 
 To tell them a tale now express 'd his desire : 
 "He said that himself and his brother one day 
 "Went out a duck-shooting, as many folks may ; 
 "And anon, from a spot where green-bulrushes crowd 
 " Some thousands of ducks rose aloft, like a cloud; 
 "In an instant," said Job, "we sent into their train, 
 "When, lo! they came showering round us like rain; 
 "We next," he observed, "got a number of strings, 
 ' ' And tied all the birds in a bunch by their wings ; 
 "This done in the presence of many beholders, 
 "I took and I strapp'd them on Benjamin's shoulders ; 
 "But, woeful mishap! like the spring of a knife 
 "They started, and suddenly sprang into life. 
 "Amazing! I cried, for that moment 'tis true 
 "They went off, and away with my brother they flew! 
 "And the very last time that these gazing eyes saw him 
 "His legs o'er the top of yon mountain were going!" 
 Job finishing thus some seem'd wrap'd in surprise, 
 Whilst some almost seem'd to eat Job with their eyes : 
 But all were aware, nay declar'd by their king, 
 They ne'er before heard of so marvelous a thing. 
 
 nxis.
 
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 OBSERVATIONS 
 
 SURGERY 'AJSJD PATHOLOGY: 
 
 ILLUSTRATED BY CASES, 
 
 AND 3Y THK 
 
 TilKATMENT OF SOME OF THE MOST 
 
 IMPORTANT SwRGICAI* AFFECTIONS 
 
 WILLIAM JAMES CLEMENT. 
 
 SURGEON 
 
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